Dovah Thuri

[AronGurnic]

It was the single stupidest idea he had heard all week. Gruffly huffing out a laugh, Hoth crossed his took a swig of his ale. He'd need at least two more by the time the self-proclaimed scholar was finished with his rant. The hooded and robed fellow was talking animatedly, gesturing wildly with his hands. The innkeeper Jonna looked rather annoyed, but it wasn't like there were many customers to irritate in the first place. Morthal was quiet like that.

"It's nearly fool-proof, I'm telling you! The advantages and opportunities outweigh the risks by far my friend, and best of all, no one else can hope to match what we'd accomplish!"

Hoth drained his bottle. Yup, he'd need a few more at this pace. He waved the empty bottle at the excited stranger.

"Listen, your proposal is oh-so very interesting and all, but listening so much makes me thirsty. You want me to keep listening, right?"

The stranger took the hint, waving down Jonna to bring more ale. It could be worse, Hoth mused silently, he'd heard much worse offers from more grating clients. This one at least bought him drinks while he gave his speech.

"As I was saying, it really is an unmatched opportunity, but like all good ideas, it just needs some support before it can become profitable. And, of course, as one of the individuals who'd help get that idea off the ground, you'd be compensated appropriately."

Hoth's ears pricked up at the word, his eyes narrowing at the mention of compensation. Oh he'd heard that word often, usually from people who talked about all sorts of amazing riches he'd be compensated with just after their latest spelunk into another Gods-forsaken ruin. Those people had little in the way of coin, and he'd learned not to rely on would-be bone-walker looters. Said deadbeat looters had a way of compensating him back with their belongings once "accidents" happened.

"I don't do charity work. You can pay my fee up front or shut up."

Hoth practically spat the words out, his gold-grey eyes staring at the masked stranger. He still hadn't been able to peg what race he was yet, and that was suspicious as all hells. His nose was sharper than most, but the stranger didn't smell like Mer or Men, or even beastfolk. Some could tuck their tails and fold their ears to blend in, but smell gave them away. This one smelled like metal and magic.

"If it's coin you want, then rest assured I have coin. I take it you'd be interested in my proposal?"

The stranger hefted a coinpurse onto the wooden table, the septims making a pleasing muffled clink. Hoth opened it and began to count. Maybe one of these days he'd get around to learning his letters and numbers beyond a layman's, make a proper ledger.

"Just tell me what you need me to kill or keep you getting killed from."

The stranger sighed. He steepled his fingers, taking a moment to think.

"Then let me summarize. I pay your fee, you accompany me to the Dwemer ruins of Avanchnzel along with a team of other mercenaries, laborers and scholars. You would remain with me on retainer for a number of weeks as we establish a foothold in the ruins while I pursue my, uh, projects. Sound simple enough?"

Hoth finished his count, coming to three stacks of twenty and one of seven. That was almost a week's lodging and food, but not counting equipment expenses. But, if he was setting down at an encampment, that meant food and gear was already handled. An almost full profit if he charged a bit more on account of "dangerous ruins", and bought some preserved food before he left. It sounded like a good deal. Besides, he'd killed Dwemer automatons before, a good hit to the joints was all it took to have them clanking crooked.

"You keep the gold flowing, and we might have a deal. When're you leaving?"

The stranger pumped a fist and slapped the table in excitement.

"I knew you'd agree! We would leave tomorrow, most of the others have already begun traveling separately in groups of a few, and we'd be the last."

Hoth paused. Smaller groups? Not as a large caravan? Most scholars he worked for had at least a wagon and six people plus beasts of burden to haul everything around. Only scouts and hunters traveled light. Maybe this was going to be a different kind of job than his usual. Or maybe not. As long as he was paid, it didn't make much difference. Job's a job.

"Fine. Pay me six hundred septims in two weeks, and we'll be settled up. I'll be ready at first light tomorrow morning."

The stranger shook his hand, his grip surprisingly firm for man of learning. Or Mer. Whatever he was. Either way, all Hoth cared for was that he'd be on a job by tomorrow. It was welcome, Morthal had been blessedly slow and quiet, but he'd needed the septims. Maybe this time around, he wouldn't have to plug his ears with wax to tune out "conjecture" from his employer.

- - -

This one paced outside, impatient. His friend was taking long, and it was very unusual for him to request Inigo to remain apart like this. This one's nose was already clogged with the scents of swamp water and rotting, fungus-eaten wood. The stares and glances this one received from the various Nords in the village did little to help ease.

"Excuse me, are you a Cat- Kah- Khajiit?"
This one turned, only to find that the source of the voice was much smaller than this one expected. It was a Nord cub- a youngling on the cusp of manhood. Yet this one's nose did not pick up expected smells. The scent of magic was faint, bare but present. The youngling was staring up at him, showing no signs of the usual restless energy cubs had in cartloads. Were Nord children different?

"Ah, this one is indeed Khajiiti. Though you may call this one Inigo. What is your name, little one?"

The child said nothing for a moment, eyes wandering in thought. Suddenly he locked his eyes on this one's, unblinking.

"I've seen you before. Blue fur, almost purple. But someone's missing, someone pale like frost. I had a dream, you both went into a big cave. I couldn't see cus' there was steam and pipes everywhere. But then your friend found a big gem. He raised it and lightning shot from it and made metal men start marching, marching somewhere…"

This one's fur stood on end. This was not a usual child. How did he know about- the door of the Moorside Inn suddenly opened, a robed, hooded and masked figure stepping out.

"Ah, Inigo, thank you for being so patient, I- Oh hello there, what's your name?"

The child snapped out of his stupor, looking lost. He tilted his head in confusion, glancing between this one and his friend.

"I'm, I'm Joric. I don't… have you seen my sister? I got a little lost. She helps me when I get lost. It's hard to find my way back sometimes."

This one turned to his friend, ears laid flat, tail waving anxiously. He tilted his head subtly towards the child, in unspoken language. You deal with this, this one said.

"Oh, I know, it can be very hard sometimes. You get so wrapped up in what you're seeing that everything else fades away, right?"

Joric nodded twice, a small smile on his face. This one's friend crossed his arms and gave a knowing, sagely nod.

"It can be a lot, especially when dealing with special visions. Does your sister teach you about them?"

Joric shook his head, smile turning to a grumpy frown.

"No, Iddy never says anything helpful. She worries so much and says stuff like 'seer cursed' when she thinks I can't hear her."
This one's friend gave a hmph, then raised a finger in exaggeration.

"Oh, I know! Why don't we go find your sister, and I can give you this book?"

From his pack, this one's friend pulled out an off-red tome with a swirling triskelion of circles on the cover, dusting it off. Joric's eyes tracked the tome, boyish curiosity making his head follow as the book was lifted dramatically.

"You see, this is a very special tome, one that only those gifted in seeing the unseen can learn from. Have you been taught your letters yet?"

Joric nodded enthusiastically, his eyes lit up with excitement. This one could see none of the unsettling weight that accompanied the dream Joric had spoken of. This one's friend gestured dramatically with the book, his free hand sparking up with ethereal light.

"Then the only thing left to do is find your sister, and we can talk her into teaching you… this!"

This one's friend raised his hand, and a faint, foggy line spiraled from his palm to the ground, winding its way over the street towards the Jarl's longhouse. Joric gasped in delight as the trail curled over and around him, giggling as he tried swiping his hand through the ephemeral magic.

"Forward march!", this one's friend said, and mocked a soldier's hup-to, Joric giggling and following suit. This one trailed a few paces behind, glancing at the few guards that had been watching the whole show unfold with close attention. Some of their hands strayed near their belts, hooking thumbs and hands at ease.

Those hands were only a finger's width away from the hilts of their swords, too. This one followed, silently putting his worries aside. This one's friend had a plan, he always did.

- - -

The Jarl's longhouse was dim, the foggy afternoon light weakly filtering in from the rafters and windows above. Flickering candles and torches guttered with smoke, casting shadows on the Jarl's assembled court. Inigo stood to the side, a half-pace behind him, just as practiced. Appearances mattered, especially when dealing with influential people, and he needed to look the part of mysterious-yet-escorted-how-intriguing stranger.

At the end of the hall sat an old woman with jet-black hair and a piercing stare. Her high-backed chair was carved with swirling patterns of dragons, and around her was a semicircle of chairs with well-dressed but obviously bored people. The steward stepped forward, addressing the newcomers.

"I am Aslfur, the Jarl's Steward. You stand before the Jarl of Hjaalmarch, Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone the Elder, and before her court. State your intentions and business here, so that- Joric, what are you doing?"

Guiltily, Joric poked his head out from behind the stranger, clutching a tome in his hands. He scampered over, tripping over his words.

"Father, I got lost and found Inigo, and I told them about a dream I had and I was looking for Iddy but then Inigo's friend showed me magic and gave me a tome to-"

"Enough! Joric, go to your sister, you're embarrassing the court! Gorm, if you would."

Aslfur gave a stern look to Joric, one that spoke of absolutely no compromises or back-talk. A burly armored man approached along with an embarrassed woman to usher Joric away, giving a suspicious narrow-eyed look to the two strangers in the hall. They disappeared into a side room, and Aslfur cleared his throat.

"It seems you found my son, a traveller. I must apologize, he tends to wander as children are want to do."

The stranger stepped forwards, adjusting his goggles with his gloved hands. He spoke, yet his mask seemed to do nothing to muffle his voice.

"There is no need for apology, Steward Aslfur. Joric seems muchly enthusiastic about matters of magic and learning, a most noble thing. As such, I have gifted him with a rudimentary tome that shall serve as excellent practice, both for his literacy and spells."

Aslfur raised a brow, crossing his arms and shuffling his feet. He was uncertain of how to respond, his posture spoke volumes. Most Nords were unappreciative of magic, true, but rumors of the Jarl's mystical inclinations meant magic was a complicated subject in this court.

Good. Complicated meant opportunity, and complicated was where he shined.

"Then I suppose thanks are in order, traveller. Might I ask your name?"

"I am Nerilus Mercaris, and this is my companion Inigo. We seek hired hands for a scholarly excavation, in pursuit of knowledge and to preserve the history we find within. On the morrow we depart."

An elderly voice cut through, raspy yet strong.

"You cover yourself, Nerilus. Is our province so bitterly cold you must hide your face lest the chill claim it?"

Aslfur opened his mouth, closed it, tried to form words then stopped. He gave a mildly apologetic look as he stepped aside. Jarl Idgrod's question hung in the air, expectant.

"Ah, it is true the lands of Skyrim are of the most frigid, Jarl Idgrod. But I cannot bare my face, as my skin is of a hue most displeasing. An alchemical incident is to blame, and I would prefer not to inflict the scars on another."

Jarl Idgrod worked her jaw, looking Nerilus up and down. She tilted her chin up, seeming to come to a conclusion.

"I see. You possess much knowledge of herbs and words, magics as well if the tome Joric has is real."

"Yes, Jarl Idgrod. My education has served me well in scholarly pursuits, and my travels have only aided my knowledge. If I understand correctly, your son Joric is… gifted, in the seeing way, yes?"

Jarl Idgrod smiled without moving, her skin wrinkling like old leather. Her eyes remained cold and unblinking.

"He is young and untrained. He sees things that are yet to be, as I do. It is brazen still to put magic in the hands of a child. Have you considered that it is not best for him to become exposed so soon?

Nerilus stepped forward, gesturing with both arms.

"Magic is temperamental, and can be dangerous, true, and deserves due caution before approached. Yet, so too is the art of swordplay, and of rulership. Tradition and necessity demand he learn both as is proper of the Jarl's kin. We do not live in peaceful times, however, and necessity makes itself known in myriad ways.

"I have gifted Joric with potential, that he may grow to wield his gift with skill and precision under your watchful eye, for I fear the world may demand it of him. The war encroaches ever closer to all homes and hearths; from our travels eastward we spotted no less than two Stormcloak couriers and even a full patrol of soldiery. You saw better than I did, Inigo, isn't that right?"

Gasps and murmurs broke out among the court, concerned looks being traded. Stormcloak rebels brazenly marching a stone's throw from Solitude, the Imperial stronghold of Skyrim? Yes, the effect was troubling, exactly as intended.

Inigo stepped forwards, clearing his throat and glancing at Nerilus. Nerilus sniffed loudly, subtly nodding his head.

"Yes, this one was fortunate enough to have smelled the soldier's approach before we could be spotted. We hid easily, as we were traveling during the night, and this one saw a band of six marching quickly without lights along the highway."

Jarl Idgrod steepled her fingers, a dark expression on her face.

"This is troubling news. We have had no such reports recently. How long ago was this?"

Nerilus bowed his head slightly.

"We had only just arrived yesterday, Jarl Idgrod. Our encounter was a day before that."

The court broke out into further murmurs, conversation becoming more heated around the Imperial Legate who had a pressed expression. Yes, a little pressure, put them on the backfoot, and then…

"I see. This is of great concern for the security of my Hold, but I thank you for bringing this news to me. It seems you herald change in more ways than one, Nerilus."

Nerilus gave a small bow, flourishing his hand slightly.

"Of course, Jarl Idgrod. I am glad to have been of service. As for our business in Morthal, we must depart soon, and I am loathe to take more of your valuable time, but I must ask a small favor. Our supplies of parchments and inks run low, and we seek to purchase more. Might you direct us where we may go to take care of this small errand?"

Jarl Idgrod waved her hand breezily, as if the request were nothing. It wasn't, paper and ink were damned expensive and hard to source, but with the troubling news and recently earned goodwill now stewing, paper was miniscule compared to rebel soldiers lurking in the swamps.

"Speak with Falion, the magical advisor of my court. You will find him near the edge of the village. He will provide you with what you need, and tell him that I see fit to provide you with a sheaf and inkpot as gratitude."

Nerilus bowed low, Inigo following suit.

"You are most gracious, Jarl Idgrod. We shall leave your court to its business. May you find good health and long life always."

The Jarl was only paying half-attention, and gave a dismissive wave as her assembly stood and began to make its way to a side room, their conversation tinged with fear. Nerilus and Inigo left quickly, the frigid air almost refreshing after the stuffy smoke of the longhouse. Cresting over a small bridge and away from any others, Nerilus gave a small punch to Inigo's leather shoulderpad.
"That was a damned good bit of improvisation there. 'Traveling during the night', and only you could see them? Really playing up the cat man angle huh."

Inigo grinned, incisors gleaming slightly in the afternoon light.

"Not only saw them, smelled them, my friend, like a hound on a hunt. This one would've stood more hunched on his paws with his claws hanging forward if the guards didn't look so eager to draw their swords."

Nerilus chuckled, shaking his head.

"Maybe I should've signalled for it anyways. Ah well, what's done is done. We have our merc, we have a grateful Jarl's wizard and soon his shiny new spells, and we have the last hardened hand we need to get started."

Nerilus stretched his hands out above his head, and loosened his goggles. Pale eyes shone out tricky and shifting to track every detail of the swamp around them.

"Tomorrow, Inigo, tomorrow is when great things happen, and we put in history in motion."

 

[AronGurnic]

Just to be clear, this story is inspired by my experiences with several modded companions and overhauls, I did not make the following chars, I only wrote what I felt like suited them:
Inigo by Smartbluecat
Lucien by JosephRussel
Hoth by Hothtrooper44
M'rissi by KreaQ

I also included another char inspired by derkernel's still work-in-progress mod, yall will see what I mean. As for most other chars, they are pulled straight from canon ES:5 or are my own addition (like Nerilus). By all means check out the mod authors and their mods, they're fantastic to include in almost any modded playthrough and breathe a little life into the world of Skyrim.