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Thread: Fractured Dragon - A Skyrim AAR

  1. #21
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    Default Re: Fractured Dragon - A Skyrim AAR

    Character List


    Gared Macer - An Adept pledged to the Mages' Hall, currently on a quest to discover the location of the lost Wellspring. Current ranks and titles held - Adept in the Mages' Hall, Praefect in the Imperial Legion, Rogue in the Thieves' Guild, Warrior in The Companions

    Legate Rikke - Co-commander (De Facto Leader) of Praefect Macer's Detachment, General Tullius' Chief Advisor

    Legionnaire Alwyn - Friend of Gared Macer, Legionnaire in Praefect Macer's Detachment

    Legionnaire Hadvar - Friend of Gared Macer, Legionnaire in Praefect Macer's Detachment




    Chapter IV: Exposed
    Gared Macer

    Tirdas | 18th of Last Seed | West of Dawnstar, The Pale



    The Stormcloaks charging towards me slowed ever so slightly, uncertain if I was attempting to fool them or actually trying to surrender.

    Neither of those options was on my mind.

    My father had told me stories of how, in the days when the Wellspring’s power could be felt from all across Tamriel, mages could cast spells simply by thinking. That was why duels always ended so quickly – if you didn’t outthink your opponent in a matter of seconds, you would have been defeated, or even worse, killed if it was an actual fight.

    Now, with the Wellspring lost to the ages and its power somehow nullified, the ability of mages to perform feats of magic were severely limited. No meteors would rain down from the sky to obliterate my opponents and incinerate the survivors. No bolts of lightning could be summoned from the heavens to lash down at my adversaries. Only basic spells could be cast, and if you had the luxury of having been trained before, perhaps you would be proficient enough to cast adept levelled spells.

    Thankfully, my father had been training me from a young age. All the levitation exercises, all the mental resistance workouts, they had all served to strengthen my connection with the magicka within me, preparing me well for the day when I would finally call upon its power in combat.

    Today was that day.

    It wasn’t an easy task by any means. The last time I had cast an actual spell, hidden from the prying eyes of the world, was when I was 18 and on the verge of leaving my father’s tutelage to explore the world. Now, I’m 34, and I have all but forgotten how it feels like to draw upon my reserves of magicka.

    The barriers in my mind were tough to break down, for all this time I had been building them up, masking the magic within me from everyone, and sometimes even from myself. For a magicka imbued individual, the hardest thing to do was getting used to a life without magic. It would have been nothing short of disastrous if in the middle of a melee I suffered a wound and reflexively used restoration magic to mend it, exposing myself to everyone. The mental barriers were vital in preventing such accidents, as well as masking my own abilities from other magic users – a skill I could not do without when I spent that year as a Legionnaire year cozying up to the Thalmor.

    But in the end, these barriers were erected by me and me alone, and I knew the best way to bring them down. Once that was accomplished it was a simple task to draw upon that power and channel it to my palms.

    The howling of the winds died down; it was as if someone had wrapped a veil of silence around all of us. The air around me grew chilly, a statement that was not lightly made considering the natural wintry atmosphere of The Pale. That was followed by a tingling sensation enveloping my entire body from the strands of my hair to the ends of my toes.

    A great burst of frost colder than any ice in the vicinity was expelled from my hands and soared towards the onrushing Stormcloaks. It was a terrible thing, to behold their expressions: consternation mixed with confusion as a wave of sub-zero air froze everything in them – their blood, their lungs… everything. They didn’t even have time to react. Their weapons clattered to the floor, their limbs ceased all movement, and their bodies tumbled to the ground, devoid of any life.


    The feeling was foreign to me, alien almost. It had been so long since I let loose such a surge of power, so long since I used any form of magic that I was almost surprised it had worked. The drain on my energy was immediate. I staggered back and shook my head in a mildly successful attempt to clear it.

    The few Stormcloaks that had managed to dodge the icy storm had fallen into disarray, and no longer had the wits to keep moving. Instead, they stood stock still and stared wide-eyed at their frozen comrades. That was their last mistake.

    I banished all thoughts of a wintry demise from my mind as a fiery bolt of inferno shot forth from my palms, instantly melting most of the snow in the area. But the more profound effect was the one that it had on the remaining Stormcloaks – the fire fed on them, covering them, burning them, and then roasting them all in a manner of seconds.


    Once again, I stumbled backwards, the energy drain taking its toll on me. But this time, I was ready for it. I recovered quickly and conjured up two more fireballs, and sent them flying rapidly towards the Stormcloak archers. After witnessing the massacre in front of them, they didn’t bother staying to fight – they were already running for their lives.

    But you can’t outrun a fireball.

    Two loud cracks resonated around the area as the fireballs stuck the fleeing archers. Most of them were blown off their feet and sent flying. I saw one ragdoll face first onto a rock, his neck snapping with a sickening crunch. And that was the end of it.

    Slightly dizzy, I glanced around me. The ice around the bodies of the dead had thawed, and the flames that had been licking at their corpses had fizzled out. All that was left was a group of corpses and an abundance of blood that was slowly seeping into the snow. Wow.


    As I stared at the multitude of corpses, the gruesome visage of destruction that I had wrought with my powers was a stark reminder of the overwhelming havoc that magic could wreak, and why it so rightly engendered feelings of abhorrence and fear even when mentioned.

    “Unbelievable.”

    I spun on the spot, raising my hands, fearing that one of them had gotten behind me, but it was just Alwyn, who had apparently regained consciousness while I was fighting off the Stormcloaks.

    “I saw everything.” Alwyn stated. The words were coming out of his mouth slowly, but whether it was from the shock or his brief spell of unconsciousness I didn’t know. “You were flinging fireballs at the Stormcloaks as easily as throwing rotten cabbages.”

    I lowered my hands, slightly taken aback that Alwyn seemed to have absorbed that information so quickly. “I have my reasons.” I mumbled, knowing full well it wasn’t an explanation anyone in their right minds was going to accept.

    Just then, Hadvar stirred, coughing up blood and gripping his stomach tightly. He looked around, confused, before collapsing to the ground. I moved to treat him, but Alwyn held out his left hand, with his right on his sword's pommel.

    Frustrated, I removed my helm and looked him in the eye. “Alwyn. I know there must be a myriad of thoughts swirling through your mind right now, but listen to me. I never meant any of you any harm. Everything I’ve said to you, to Hadvar, to the Legate, it’s all true. I’m still the Praefect you’ve known all this time.”

    I lowered my voice as Hadvar regained his consciousness. “I don’t know your position on magic, but if you don’t let me heal him, he might die.”

    For a split-second, Alwyn flashed Hadvar a concerned glance when the latter groaned in pain. You’re a smart man, Alwyn. I know you’ll make the right choice.


    For a good ten seconds, nothing else could be heard but Hadvar’s constant moans of pain, and the endless whistling of the wind. Alwyn’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment I feared his emotions had gotten the better of him, but he stepped aside. “Alright.”

    Just as my father had taught me, I raised my hands, but instead of wishing for a fiery death or a freezing icicle, I focused on healing and mending. A warm glow of yellow light floated towards Hadvar, and he cried out in pain and collapsed. Alwyn went slack jawed in shock, but I quickly assured him that everything had gone according to plan.

    “I’ve healed all his wounds, but the rapid healing has side effects. He’ll be out for a short while.” As Alwyn knelt to inspect the now unconscious Hadvar, I glanced around, anxious to get a move on before anyone showed up.

    “Incredible.” Alwyn had whispered it so softly I almost didn’t catch it, though there was an edge to his voice that I couldn’t quite identify. “The wounds have closed, and his body’s involuntary spasms seem to have petered out.”

    “Right, that’s how it works. Help me get him up and –”

    Alwyn stood up so quickly most of the snow fell off his armour. I had no time to ask his intentions – he grabbed me by my pauldrons and snarled.

    “You could do that, all this time? So the rest of our legionnaires meant NOTHING to you, then? YOU just LET them die? Audeius, Clagius, Arenara –”

    With no small amount of difficulty, I wrenched myself free of his iron grip, which was much firmer than I had expected for a man of his age. Gasping and stumbling in the heavy snow, I somehow managed to evade Alwyn when he lunged at me, while at the same time shoving him face first into the ground.

    I wanted him to stay down and listen to what I was going to say, but he got to his feet and took a swing at me, blind with rage. I hopped back and dodged to the right when he tried again, nearly losing my footing as I brushed the leg of one of the Stormcloak dead. I can’t keep this up.

    I slammed my sword’s hilt into his face, mindful not to do so with undue force. Alwyn staggered back, clutching his nose, as minute rivulets of blood started to trickle out of it. I wasted no time and followed up with a swing of my sword, the flat side of the blade connecting with Alwyn’s legs. As was my intention, he fell to the ground, the wind temporarily knocked out of him.

    “Listen carefully, Alwyn. I don’t quite have the time to explain to you why I’m doing what I’m doing. When you return to General Tullius without the Jagged Crown, you’re going to tell him a modified version of the truth. You were ambushed by Stormcloaks, but in the midst of the fighting a rogue mage appeared and wrestled the Jagged Crown away from all of you. Then the mage slew the Stormcloaks who were pursuing him, and vanished without a trace. Unfortunately, I was killed. You got that?”

    Alwyn stared blankly at me. “You’re taking the crown?”

    “Yes.” I extended my right hand towards him. “I need it. Don’t worry, I won’t let the Stormcloaks catch even a whiff of it. When I’m done with it, the Legion will get it back.”

    My right hand hung there for only a few moments, but it seemed like an eternity had passed before Alwyn reached out and grasped it. Panting heavily from the recent exertions, I heaved and pulled him to his feet, then raised my arms and backed away slowly. “Peace?”

    Alwyn shook his head, muttering to himself. “You’re a crazy man, Gared. This is just crazy.”

    “I have my reasons, Alwyn.” I whistled thrice and grabbed my helm off the ground. Alwyn looked at me before glancing around uneasily as hooves thundered in the forest. “Don’t be alarmed.” I said. “It’s just my horse.”

    Aeonbarr sauntered up to me and eyed the battleground inquisitively. After a very brief inspection, I was relieved to see that no harm had come to him. Thank the Eight for small miracles.

    I prepared to mount Aeonbarr, but Alwyn called out. “You’re going to take the last horse, too? What am I to do with Hadvar, carry him all the way to Morthal on foot?”

    “You’re nearly there.” I pointed out. “Another hour of walking and you should be able to call on the border guards for assistance. I’m sorry to leave you like this, and maybe someday I’ll be able to explain it all to you, but right now I have to go. A lot of people are counting on me.” A lot of dead people.

    Alwyn shot me a mystified look. “What, you can’t just teleport yourself somewhere?”

    Despite the situation, I let out a small chuckle. “No, Alwyn, magic doesn’t work that way. I’d explain it to you, but I don’t have the time and you wouldn’t understand.”

    Alwyn frowned and crossed his arms. “Huh. Try me.”

    Sighing, I strode over and proffered my hand, this time for a handshake. “If we meet again. And I do hope we meet again.”

    Just like before, I had to wait for more than a few moments before Alwyn reciprocated. After shaking his hand, I patted him gently on the back. When he spoke, the slight tremor in his voice was gone, replaced by what sounded like confusion and a certain…understanding.

    “The General’s not going to like this, Gared. He’ll send men after the ‘mage’. He might even send your detachment.”

    I mounted Aeonbarr expertly and grasped the reins. “That’s alright. They’ll never find me. If you want to save them the trouble of searching though, which I strongly recommend you do, you’ll find a way to convince the General to let this go.”

    I pulled on the reins lightly and tightened my legs around Aeonbarr, a signal he was all too familiar with. Without any further encouragement, he took off at a gallop. I didn’t bother to yell out a final goodbye; the wind would have swallowed my words before it ever reached Alwyn’s ears.

    It seems my time in the Legion is at an end.

    Alwyn

    I took a few minutes to catch my breath. My body was aching all over, and my nose was still bleeding from where Gared had hit me. Gared…a mage. This is insane. And yet the corpses on the ice begged to differ.



    I stumbled over to Hadvar, who was lying face up on the ground. We need to get out of here. As I was helping him to his feet, Hadvar twitched. He blinked thrice and gazed at the scene before him.

    “What happened?” He croaked weakly.

    I hesitated. I still wasn’t sure if I trusted Gared enough to lie for him. He's been lying to us all for the past year...who knows what other secrets he keeps?

    “You did that all by yourself?” Hadvar continued, staring at his surroundings in awe, still very groggy.

    “Yes.” I replied, shaking my head in disbelief. “Don’t you know what an excellent fighter I am? Now be quiet, and conserve your strength. We have an hour’s hike ahead of us, and I don’t intend to carry you on my back.”





    Author’s Note:
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 
    Alwyn please don't send the Dark Brotherhood after me I promise to treat your character better.

    I had a really hard time writing this chapter. I spent a day! rewriting the ending of this battle over and over again. The original ending was to have Alwyn and Hadvar both be unconscious and Gared taking off. Then I changed it to one of them waking up halfway, but I still wasn't sure which. Hadvar would have been more opposed to the magic, I suppose, so I chose Alwyn. Scholarly man has hits wits about him, ya know?

    You will also notice I wrote the last part from Alwyn's perspective. It's going to be like God's Justice, with the protagonist having most of the screen time and a few other characters having things written from their perspective every once in a while. But whilst God's Justice is from Lord Jean's perspective I think roughly 60% of the time, this AAR should be from Gared's perspective almost 90% of the time. I don't want to let the tale be told from too many perspectives, after all this is Gared's adventure. For now.
    Last edited by Swaeft; January 24, 2019 at 01:24 AM. Reason: Hmm...this looks like it needs 1 more image!

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  2. #22
    Alwyn's Avatar Frothy Goodness
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    Default Re: Fractured Dragon - A Skyrim AAR

    It sounds like it wasn't easy for Gared to break through the inner barriers when he took on the Stormcloaks. Now that he's moved on from his previous position, I imagine he'll be more free to use magic - which sounds both tempting and risky for him. I wonder if the level of trust (or the lack of it) between Gared, Alwyn and Hadvar might be important at some stage in the future. Great update!

  3. #23
    Swaeft's Avatar Drama King
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    Default Re: Fractured Dragon - A Skyrim AAR

    Quote Originally Posted by Alwyn View Post
    It sounds like it wasn't easy for Gared to break through the inner barriers when he took on the Stormcloaks. Now that he's moved on from his previous position, I imagine he'll be more free to use magic - which sounds both tempting and risky for him. I wonder if the level of trust (or the lack of it) between Gared, Alwyn and Hadvar might be important at some stage in the future. Great update!
    Many thanks Alwyn! Indeed he might use magic more often now, but at what cost? Trust is also hard to come by in this terrible world. We shall have to see.

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  4. #24
    Swaeft's Avatar Drama King
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    Default Re: Fractured Dragon - A Skyrim AAR

    Character List


    Gared Macer - An Adept pledged to the Mages' Hall, currently on a quest to discover the location of the lost Wellspring. Current ranks and titles held - Adept in the Mages' Hall, Praefect in the Imperial Legion, Rogue in the Thieves' Guild, Warrior in The Companions

    Legate Rikke - Co-commander (De Facto Leader) of Praefect Macer's Detachment, General Tullius' Chief Advisor

    Legionnaire Alwyn - Friend of Gared Macer, Legionnaire in Praefect Macer's Detachment

    Legionnaire Hadvar - Friend of Gared Macer, Legionnaire in Praefect Macer's Detachment




    Chapter V: Interlude
    Gared Macer

    Tirdas | 18th of Last Seed | South of Dawnstar, The Pale



    The Sun’s awakening did little to alleviate the bitter cold I was feeling.

    Warm golden rays filtered through the clouds, lighting up everything they deigned to touch, bringing much needed heat to the frozen, wintry landscape. The scathing, howling winds remained, but their strength and frequency had evaporated somewhat with the arrival of dawn.

    Aeonbarr, my loyal steed, trudged forwards at a clip slower than a gallop, but faster than a trot. He was a Cheydinhal Thoroughbred, the prime breed of choice back in the day when the Imperial City was still the reigning symbol of power in Tamriel. The hardest I’d seen my father tax him was a half hour’s journey at a full sprint, but going at a slower pace helped to preserve his stamina when I wasn’t in combat. Aeonbarr’s great reserves of stamina had saved my father’s life many times, and I learned from a young age never to tire him unnecessarily, no matter how much he loved a good race. He was no stranger to combat as well, having staved in a few of our enemies’ heads with his metal horseshoes, though both my father and I preferred to keep him out of harm’s way.

    I was headed to Whiterun, or at least, in that direction. After the altercation with the Stormcloaks in the Pale, I knew I had to avoid both the Stormcloaks and the Imperials. I couldn’t go north, as Dawnstar was Stormcloak aligned, and similarly to the east, Windhelm was the capital of the Stormcloak uprising. To the west, Morthal remained faithful to the Imperials, and so the only option was south, towards the only neutral city in Skyrim – Whiterun.

    When I reached the relative safety of Whiterun Hold, with its towering mountains and lush, verdant landscape some hours later, I stopped a guard and inquired if a troop of Imperial soldiers had come by this way. When he shook his head, a pit of fear opened up in my stomach. What had become of my detachment?

    Wondering if perhaps the guard had simply not seen them, I continued onwards, but each time I repeated my query to passers-by, I was met with the same response. Anxiety gripped me tightly, and I was wracked with indecision. If Aeonbarr hadn’t kept moving towards Whiterun, I might have diverted from my journey there and then out of a burning desire to search for them.


    In the end, I had to make the difficult choice to brush them off my mind. Perhaps they had been captured by the Stormcloaks, but it was also possible they had been forced to venture someplace else. After all, I could not prioritize them over my ancestor’s work, and they were simply a means to an end…

    or were they?

    This…quest is taking a toll on me. Father, I don’t know how much left I have to give. While pondering over the merits of becoming a ‘free’ man once again, I made the decision to rest at Whiterun, in order to gather my thoughts and plan my next move. My stomach was growling, and I desperately needed some rest.

    As I approached the city for the umpteenth time, my thoughts turned towards that of the clue in the Jagged Crown. A series of letters: L, Z, T, U, M, and F. I had no idea what they were, or what they even meant. Were they some sort of abbreviation? Some kind of code? A list of his most loyal followers? I would have to pour through my father’s journals to figure out all the possibilities, and conveniently enough for me, I always keep them on my person. All I needed was a place to sit down and safely examine them, and the Inns of Whiterun provided just that.

    I left Aeonbarr at the stables and paid the stablemaster, Skulvar Sabre-Hilt, extra to feed him well. “Don’t worry, Praefect, he’ll be well taken care of.” Skulvar said with a bow, and it was only then I realized that I was still wearing my Legion armour. As I walked towards the gates of Whiterun, I toyed about with the idea of pretending to still be a Praefect. It would afford me more options politically and socially, but in the end I decided against it. If anyone mentioned that a Praefect was seen wandering around Whiterun, and the wrong people caught wind of it, I would be in serious trouble. Not to mention the fact that if I somehow met Legate Rikke and my detachment here I would have some difficult explaining to do, given that I was supposed to be halfway to Solitude by now. This whole ‘Praefect’ thing was a second layer of skin anyway, to be shed when I’d accomplished what I had set out to do.

    The warmth of crackling fires spread around the town was a welcome change from the chilly air of The Pale. After passing through the twin wooden gates of Whiterun and receiving two more nods of respect from the guards there, I went straight to the local blacksmith, Adrianne Avenicci, and sold my Praefect armour. That brought me quite a bit of gold, and a surprised look from Adrianne. “Well, I don’t usually see armour of this quality here in Whiterun.” She had remarked as she handed me a sack of gold. “Where did you get this? Are you a legionnaire?”

    Yes. I almost said. “No. This was my father’s armour. I thought it high time I got rid of it.” Then, I stole away before she could pry any further.

    The difference was immediate. It felt like a giant weight had been lifted off of me. Having the sun kiss my skin directly and the wind ruffle playfully through my hair was something one could not experience while garbed in the suffocating embrace of heavy armour. It was an enjoyable feeling that I had sorely missed – it truly felt as though I had shed an outer layer of skin.

    As my family did not maintain a permanent residence here in Whiterun, I only travelled here during my young adult years as a member of The Companions. As such, the people of Whiterun knew me only as ‘Gared of The Companions’. It would be highly desirable for that to remain as the status quo.

    As I paused in the middle of the street debating what to do next, a man tapped me on the back.


    I turned around and came face to face with my Shield-Brother Vilkas, who was wearing a peculiar expression on his face. “Brother. Where have you been? Priestess Danica says if we wait any longer, the body will start to decay and decompose.”

    I nearly opened my mouth to ask what body, but stopped short of doing so as a tremendous wave of guilt washed over me. Cursing beneath my breath, a spurt of rage welled up internally as I realized that I had allowed myself to forget something so close to my heart. It pained me to lie to my fellow Companion, but I forced out a wry smile and did so anyway. “Forgive me, brother Vilkas. I was overcome with grief the past few days, and I was not willing to accept the terrible truth. But I’m ready now.”

    “We’ll await the Sun’s rising, then.” Vilkas patted me on the back. I thanked him, and we walked down the rest of the Plains District together before parting ways at the marketplace. Vilkas was headed back to Jorrvaskr, but I wasn’t ready to face the rest of my Shield-Brothers and Sisters just yet. Instead, I headed for the Bannered Mare.

    The tavern was as boisterous as I remembered it to be. Mikael the bard was still singing his lousy rendition of ‘Ragnar the Red’ whilst winking suggestively at the women, and Hulda was still prattling on about selling the inn to Ysolda. The rest of inn was business as usual, which suited me just fine. I strode over to Hulda and ordered a drink. The warmth from the roaring fire in the centre of the Inn was particularly contagious, and I allowed myself a smile as I basked in the comfort of the heat and soaked it all up. After I was snug and satisfied, I approached the counter and plopped myself on one of the stools.


    “I heard about your father, Gared, and for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. This one’s on me.” Hulda set down a tankard of Honningbrew mead in front of me, which I gratefully accepted. “What’s the word around here?” I inquired, taking a few sips out of the tankard. Molag’s balls, this tastes like rat poison!

    “No rumours or gossip to satiate your curiosity today, I’m afraid.” Hulda replied with a heavy sigh. “The war has brought business in Whiterun to almost a standstill. Not many caravans travel this way, and no traders means no news. You’re better off checking with the Khajit outside town, or with Elrindir at the Drunken Huntsman. ”

    I muttered my thanks, drank deeply from the tankard, then fished my coin pouch out of my vestments after I was done. I removed ten Septims from it and slid them across the table to Hulda when she returned to clean my mug. “A room, please, for the night.”

    Hulda grabbed the Septims and shoved them beneath the counter. “Sure thing, it’s yours for a day.” Slightly perplexed by her choice of words, I waved away her offer of more mead and headed upstairs for some peace and quiet.

    Despite the floor being made out of wooden planks, they were boarded together well, and once the room door was shut most of the tavern hubbub was drowned out, which pleased me. Time to get to work.

    I spent the next few hours combing through my father’s journals, searching for High King Logrolf’s list of retainers and whatever else I thought of. Even though it wasn’t possible, I wished that Alwyn could have been here with me. His help in reading through the journals and identifying points of interest would have been useful.

    Is that all I think of him as? A tool?
    **

    I closed the last of my father’s journals in frustration.

    I had spent almost the entire evening sifting through pile after pile of notes, yet the location of the Wellspring still eluded me. Even after adding the knowledge in father’s journals to my own, it was a pointless affair – there was no link between the Wellspring and the Jagged Crown. Mindful of the need to attend my father’s funeral early the next morning, I bit back a yawn and decided to call it a night.

    Sleep did not come easy to me. My bouts of insomnia had started the week after father burdened me with the importance of finding the Wellspring, and even on the occasional days when I wasn’t afflicted, I struggled to relax myself enough to nod off. How did my father manage to sleep, with what seems like the weight of the world on his shoulders?

    As I pulled the fur blankets up to my neck, my thoughts once again turned inadvertently to the Wellspring, and the knowledge that my father had drilled relentlessly into me.

    The Wellspring was the secret behind the power of the Masters; it was a source of magical energy discovered very early in the Second Era, and upon which the Arcane University was built. Throughout the entire existence of the Mages Guild, groups of researchers dedicated their lives to understanding the Wellspring and how it functioned, but none were successful. They couldn’t even deduce what the Wellspring was made of, much less study its creation. All the Arch Mages knew about it was that it predated the founding of the Imperial City, and was discovered by Vanus Galerion himself.

    That, and they knew how to extract its power. In fact, often enough, the main difference between an adept and a master was not his or her skill level, but whether he or she had been exposed to the Wellspring. One’s own abilities could only take one so far, and the path to magic beyond one’s own potential lay in acquiring the Wellspring’s power. Initially, this caused a huge uproar when it came to sharing the power of the Wellspring. If everyone could absorb the Wellspring’s power, that would mean everyone would have unlimited magical ability without the knowledge to control it. In the end, it was agreed that only Masters and above would have access to the Wellspring, and once an adept proved beyond doubt that he would be able to resist the temptations that came along with great power, he would be able to join the ranks of the Masters and receive the power of the Wellspring.

    Even then, the first few to receive the power, or blessing as some liked to call it, of the Wellspring, died because they were not ready to handle the sudden infusion of magicka. The first Masters, after much thought and reflection, came up with a ritual to determine if a student was ready to receive this power or not. But along with the location of the Wellspring, this too had been lost to the ages.

    There is still so much we do not know. What if this is a fruitless quest? My ancestors have been searching to no avail for this Wellspring for hundreds of years. Why would I be the one to uncover it?

    Assailed by the constant thought of failure and with the exhaustion from the fight at Korvanjund finally kicking in, I reluctantly drifted off into an uneasy sleep.






    Author's Note:
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 
    I find myself enjoying this experience as I write more and more, it's the same spark that I felt at the start of God's Justice some six months back. I wonder which spark will last longer. I guess it's something to do with playing a game that I haven't touched in a long while and pacing myself.

    Also, good news, almost the entirety of the backstory has been fleshed out, now I can write about the present and the future with gusto

    Gared's travels this chapter:
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 


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  5. #25
    Turkafinwë's Avatar The Sick Baby Jester
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    Default Re: Fractured Dragon - A Skyrim AAR

    Two great chapter! I especially liked the way you explained what it is like to use magic, the mental power that is needed and it's effects on the body. I love the inner conflict within our hero, ambition and duty is often the death of friendship and comradery. Gared must feel very much alone in this world, not able to truly open himself to others. A very interesting character you've created here Swaeft!

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    An interesting tale I'm not entirely sure what the Wellspring is, or if it's something you've just made up, but I like the idea that Gared is on a secret quest to find it, passed down through the generations. Although he seems to have built up quite an impressive - and dare I say eclectic - CV in his search; from the Legion, to the Companions, to the Thieves Guilds, the bandits and ultimately the Mages. I'm interested to see how he juggles these various responsibilities and identities, and what might befall him when he gets caught in the middle of their varied and myriad interests; I'm not sure the Legion for one just lets people walk away on a whim...

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    Swaeft's Avatar Drama King
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    Default Re: Fractured Dragon - A Skyrim AAR

    Quote Originally Posted by Turkafinwë View Post
    Two great chapter! I especially liked the way you explained what it is like to use magic, the mental power that is needed and it's effects on the body. I love the inner conflict within our hero, ambition and duty is often the death of friendship and comradery. Gared must feel very much alone in this world, not able to truly open himself to others. A very interesting character you've created here Swaeft!
    Deciding on how magic would work in this AAR was one of the bigger decisions I've had to make. I actually thought up many elaborate and I think confusing ways of how it works, but in the end I decided to make it simple to understand and congruent with the way it worked in The Astray Apprentice. I'm glad you like the character, I can tell you I spent more effort on character development here than in God's Justice, heh.

    Quote Originally Posted by Hitai de Bodemloze View Post
    An interesting tale I'm not entirely sure what the Wellspring is, or if it's something you've just made up, but I like the idea that Gared is on a secret quest to find it, passed down through the generations. Although he seems to have built up quite an impressive - and dare I say eclectic - CV in his search; from the Legion, to the Companions, to the Thieves Guilds, the bandits and ultimately the Mages. I'm interested to see how he juggles these various responsibilities and identities, and what might befall him when he gets caught in the middle of their varied and myriad interests; I'm not sure the Legion for one just lets people walk away on a whim...
    Thank you very much, Hitai! Believe it or not the idea came to me in a dream (the idea of continuing your ancestor's work, not the idea of Gared and his mage stuff! ) Indeed he has built up a solid resume, but it is not improbable, I hope, when one considers that he has dedicated his life to discovering the whereabouts of the Wellspring (and training to do so). Oh and about that, I hope to answer your question on the Wellspring in good time, but for a short description of what it is, look no further than the last few paragraphs of chapter 5!

    I too have not heard of the Legion letting people quit as and when they like.

    Thanks for stopping by, y'all! A great source of motivation indeed!

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    Default Re: Fractured Dragon - A Skyrim AAR

    Character List


    Gared Macer - An Adept pledged to the Mages' Hall, currently on a quest to discover the location of the lost Wellspring. Current ranks and titles held - Adept in the Mages' Hall, Praefect in the Imperial Legion, Rogue in the Thieves' Guild, Warrior in The Companions

    Legate Rikke - Co-commander (De Facto Leader) of Praefect Macer's Detachment, General Tullius' Chief Advisor

    Legionnaire Alwyn - Friend of Gared Macer, Legionnaire in Praefect Macer's Detachment

    Legionnaire Hadvar - Friend of Gared Macer, Legionnaire in Praefect Macer's Detachment




    Chapter VI: Discovery
    Gared Macer

    Middas | 19th of Last Seed | The City of Whiterun


    “There’s a small hole in the roof here that I haven’t repaired for one reason.” Hulda had told me when I inquired as to the possibility of a morning call. “The sunlight shines through every morning at dawn. Sleep on the left side of the bed, it will be enough to wake you.”

    She was right. When I stirred the next morning, I was temporarily blinded by the small sliver of light pouring through the crack. Nifty little trick. I did the standard morning routine of washing and cleaning up, then grabbed my things and bid farewell to Hulda.

    Aside from Solitude, Whiterun was Skyrim’s most populated city, and it was easy to see why. In the mornings, the air was crisp and cool, yet enough of the Sun’s rays reached the city so that it wasn’t too chilly. This sort of temperature was, in my opinion, just right. It was refreshing and invigorating, and did wonders for living conditions. Crops could grow, people could lounge about outdoors, and game would thrive on the great plains outside.

    Crops and game were definitely not on my mind as I strode towards the Skyforge. Vilkas met me at the bottom of the steps with a lit torch in his hand. “Here.” He handed it to me. “You’re his son. The fire signifies the strength of your fighting spirit and your will to live on. Carry it high.”



    I accepted the torch, and Vilkas escorted me for the rest of the way. When I reached the apex, I was pleasantly surprised to see that many people had come to attend my father’s funeral. Every single member of The Companions was present, as well as Eorlund Grey-Mane, Danica the priestess, and Idolaf, the head of clan Battle-Born.

    Perhaps the solemnness of the occasion overwhelmed me, or perhaps the fact that I was never, ever going to see my father again finally sunk in. I felt weak-kneed and light-headed, and I must have paused for a tad too long, for Vilkas gave me a gentle nudge and guided me to my assigned spot in front of the Skyforge.

    “Stand here, and follow our instructions. This is all in keeping with the highest traditions of our forebears.”


    As Aela began her monologue, the tears started to manifest. Try as I might, I did not succeed in holding all of them back, yet I was too numb to wipe those that had fallen away. The pain paralyzed my body, and the sadness, my mind.

    “As is our tradition, we honour the families of our own Companions when they pass from this world.” Aela began, her voice a touch softer than its usual brusqueness. “Today, we are gathered to commemorate Gared Macer’s father, who was slain fighting a gang of bandits in Falkreath.”

    Another lie. Even though The Companions were the people closest to me and had kindly agreed to perform funeral rites for my father, I still couldn’t entrust them with the details of his death. Lying to people who cared about me aggrieved me to no end, but by my father’s command no one else was to know the truth, and I was nothing if not a filial son.

    “When people close to our hearts move on from this world, it is customary for us to mourn them. But we of The Companions do not gather to weep and sob.” Aela remarked, the fierceness of a huntress returning to her voice. “Instead, we celebrate the achievements and relive the treasured memories of the deceased. To that end, Gared will say a few words.”

    Vilkas had warned that this was expected of me, but I hadn’t really prepared anything, and even now as my fellow Companions twiddled their thumbs and shifted their feet, nothing leaped to my mind. I was ashamed to admit that I didn’t have very fond memories of my childhood, but there was no way I was going to utter anything of that sort here and now.

    “My father was a great teacher.” I finally began. And that is the truth. “He taught me the importance of having a good heart and a sharp mind. It was from him that I learned the meaning of duty, respect, and wisdom.”

    For a moment I debated ending my speech there and then – I really didn’t feel like saying anything else – but suddenly, it was as if all my pent up emotions came spilling forth at once.

    “As a child, I had the privilege of journeying around Skyrim together with my father.” To hide from the rest of the world until I could control my powers.

    “We never stayed in one place for very long. I put that down to my father’s love of the land.” We traveled to avoid being shunned, or worse, exposed.

    “He was a man of great intellect, and he endeavored to pass that on to me in any way he could. I was given a mountain of books and scrolls to read, and more often than not, that was what I did to pass the time when travelling from one place to another.” That was what I did to learn more about our history and to study the ways of magic.

    “But more importantly, he led by example. As a travelling swordsman, I saw first-hand the number of people he helped, and the reactions of strangers who were the recipients of his kindness and generosity. It would not be beyond belief to say that many people in Falkreath and The Reach owe him their lives.” He saved them all, yet he couldn’t save himself.

    “The world knows it has lost a great man.” And I have lost a father I never really knew. Apart from the mission and training, we never really talked about much else.

    All around me, the mourners bowed their heads in a respectful silence, and for a time all I heard was the light whistling of the wind. I for one simply stared at my father’s body, garbed in the armour of The Companions, lying atop a simple structure made out of wooden planks, a few banners adorning its sides. Someone must have woken up really early to get this done. Someone like Eorlund. I do hope I can repay him and The Companions one day.

    “Now we commit the soul of the deceased to whatever plane beyond this world he deigns to venture to.” Aela intoned. As Eorlund handed her a torch, she beckoned me over. She lowered her torch into the Skyforge, and I understood that I was to do likewise.

    Eourlund must have sprinkled some fire salts into the forge before I had arrived, for the flames jumped from my torch to the Skyforge instantaneously, creating a roaring conflagration that hungrily consumed the wooden planks. Aela turned around and motioned for me to follow, but I couldn’t help staring at the flames making their way higher and higher, until at last it started licking at the armour of my father.


    It was at that point I accepted that he was truly gone, and this time, when the flood of tears came forth unbidden, I didn’t try to hold them back at all.

    I will finish what our ancestors started, Father. This I swear upon you.

    Only then was I able to use all the willpower left in me to bid him farewell for the final time, before wrenching myself away from the blazing inferno.

    **
    I left Jorrvaskr with my thirst satiated and my belly full. I had no idea where I was supposed to go next, but I was conscious of the need to get out of Whiterun. I couldn’t be carrying my father’s journals and the Jagged Crown around in a city like it was today’s groceries – it was too risky. But where am I to go? I have no leads.

    I decided to heed Hulda’s advice and visit the Drunken Huntsman to see if its owner, Elrindir, had anything interesting to tell me. “Hah, the Bannered Mare usually steals away most of the crowd. Not many customers these days, except for the regular patrons. If it is information you want, best check with my brother Anoriath at the market, he just got back from a hunt this morning. He loves to regale me with his tales of life outside this city. Don’t believe everything you hear, though, he enjoys embellishing.”

    I thanked Elrindir and headed to Anoriath’s shop at the marketplace. It was a small coincidence – I needed supplies and food for my journey anyway.


    Anoriath was every bit as talkative as his brother had said. When I asked him about his journey outside the city, the experienced hunter’s eyes lit up and he started gesturing energetically about all that he had seen in a lifetime of hunting. I expected some of that vibrancy to dissipate when I clarified that I was only asking about his most recent hunt, but Anoriath simply grinned at me and beckoned me close.

    “Just yesterday when I was returning from my hunt, I saw a whole bunch of Stormcloaks near Whiterun Hold’s northern borders, and they had some captive Imperials to boot!” He whispered excitedly. “The Jarl won’t be happy when he finds out that Ulfric and Tullius sent men into his lands without his permission!”

    This revelation astounded me, but once I got over the initial shock, I realized that my detachment was in a very bad way. Ulfric was known to make prisoner exchanges, but these did not happen often. I could only hope that General Tullius had some Stormcloaks of equivalent rank and importance locked away in the Castle Dour dungeon, because the alternative did not bear thinking about.

    “Stormcloaks transporting Imperial prisoners, you say? How many of them were there? Where were they headed?”

    Anoriath shrugged, and I felt a tinge of disappointment worm into my mind. “I don’t know. I steered clear of them the moment I saw them. They were heading East, so I assume Windhelm. Don’t really know, and don’t really care to guess.”

    Not wanting to draw any more attention to myself, I thanked Anoriath and paid for some of his best cuts, as well as a little bit extra for that information. As I headed for the stables, I pondered over trying to rescue my detachment. Not mine. At least, not anymore. I reminded myself. You gave them up, Gared. You decided to set them aside. Stick to your convictions. Father’s quest comes first. General Tullius won’t abandon them.

    I spoke with the Khajit merchants encamped outside of town, hoping for more information than what Anoriath had given me. Their leader, Ri’saad, was less forthcoming and clammed up quickly, but once I dangled a sack of gold in his face he started talking more freely.

    “Please, sit. I did not see these soldiers you speak of, but on my way here from Eastmarch I did see something else that could perhaps be more interesting to you…if you have the coin. A tale about magic.”

    Magic? I plopped myself down on the floor and gazed at the aged Khajit.


    I rolled my eyes and poured half the sack – about 50 Septims – into Ri’saad’s hands. “You get the other half if I like what I hear.” I wasn’t particularly hopeful – since the Emperor’s ban on magic all those years ago, rumours and stories of rogue magicians wandering the wilds had sprung up all over Skyrim, and most of them were outright falsehoods – tales meant to entertain a tavern crowd or scare children into behaving.

    Ri’saad pocketed the money faster than anyone that I’d seen, grinned with self-satisfaction, then spoke. “Near the mountains of Eastmarch, we passed a group of strange hooded fellows. They asked us for directions to a nearby dwarven ruin, Mzulft, and when I mentioned that I was familiar with the area, they paid us pretty handsomely to guide them there.”

    Slightly frustrated but also mildly curious, I feigned disinterest and prepared to keep the sack of coins.

    “Wait!” Ri’saad exclaimed, grabbing my hand. “My tale is not over. A few minutes after we left them outside the ruins, the winds carried over to us the sounds of a serious scuffle.” Ri’saad’s eyes widened. “I saw fire shoot into the sky! Suddenly the stories my father told me about magic all rang true. We had been escorting a group of mages! I got my caravan as far away from the area as possible straight away. I still shiver in fear when I think of how close we were to those mages.”

    Ri’saad held out his hands expectantly upon completing his recount, and I shook my head wryly. If only he knew he was within two feet of one!

    “You want a hundred gold for that?” I voiced my disapproval. As interesting as the story was, the information was of little use to me. “You should be satisfied with the fifty you got.”

    Ri’saad muttered something in the Khajit tongue that sounded a lot like an insult, but I chose not to respond. Oddly enough, Ri’saad then smiled at me and dismissed me with a wave of his paws. “Thank you for your business.”

    Khajit and their weird customs. Or is this the simple duplicity of a salesman? “No problem.” I muttered, more to myself than to Ri’saad. I stood and stretched, still wondering where I should head to next, when it hit me.

    No way.

    I spun around and almost bumped into Ri’saad, who was in the process of standing up. He sidestepped nimbly and shot me a perplexed look. “The ruin, what was it called?” I pressed, holding out the sack of coins again. This time, Ri’saad snatched them out of my hands before answering.

    “Mzulft. Old Dwemer ruin near the Eastmarch mountains.”

    The letters flashed before my eyes. M. Z. U. L. F. T. Molag’s Balls!

    I exhaled sharply and grabbed Ri’saad a little more forcefully than was appropriate, but niceties and politeness were not really on my mind.

    “Can you take me there?”





    Author's Note:
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 
    Happy Chinese New Year to all who celebrate it! I must admit this chapter was a little rushed, since I was out visiting most of the week and I still have two more days to go. Anthem and Apex Legends have also taken up the remainder of my free time, heh. Have a good weekend ahead!
    Last edited by Swaeft; March 02, 2019 at 06:10 AM. Reason: Lmao I've been living in Tirdas this whole time

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  9. #29
    Hitai de Bodemloze's Avatar 避世絕俗
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    Default Re: Fractured Dragon - A Skyrim AAR

    Oh, that's cool! I was wondering what those letters meant as well - should've realised it was an anagram! Mzulft though ey? I can take a guess at who that group of mages were - sounds like Gared's going to have a very interesting time indeed Interesting as well that he is so quick to abandon his old Legionmates - but I like that; he has a greater purpose, even if it makes him seem a bit heartless, moving different pawns around the board to further his own ends. I do wonder what will happen if the Companions - who he seems to be a lot closer to - end up getting in the way of his quest...

    I also liked the way you wrote the speech Gared gave at the funeral - only giving everyone half the information. It's starting to show the difficulties of living these different dual lives of his. Keep it up!

  10. #30
    Turkafinwë's Avatar The Sick Baby Jester
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    Default Re: Fractured Dragon - A Skyrim AAR

    I wholeheartedly agree with Hitai on this one! Gared using people for his greater purpose but not particularly liking it, reluctant to shed the small bonds he made with these persons, though he still sheds them in the end. I especially liked the double-layered speech Gared gave at his father's funeral giving us a perspective the rest of the world wouldn't know about. The music you chose was, of course, marvelous and fitted perfectly for the occassion. You can never go wrong with music from Gladiator. My only criticism is that it was a tad too short for me, but that could be because I'm a slow reader. Either way it brought me into the right mood so I would describe it as a succes.

  11. #31
    Alwyn's Avatar Frothy Goodness
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    Default Re: Fractured Dragon - A Skyrim AAR

    Like Hitai and Turk, I enjoyed the combination of what Gared said and what he didn't say at the funeral. It sounds like he got used to a life in which he is constantly on the move to avoid his secret beign revealed. The encounter with Ri'saad is done well too, I look forward to seeing what will happen. Happy Chinese New Year!

  12. #32
    Swaeft's Avatar Drama King
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    Default Re: Fractured Dragon - A Skyrim AAR

    Quote Originally Posted by Hitai de Bodemloze View Post
    Oh, that's cool! I was wondering what those letters meant as well - should've realised it was an anagram! Mzulft though ey? I can take a guess at who that group of mages were - sounds like Gared's going to have a very interesting time indeed Interesting as well that he is so quick to abandon his old Legionmates - but I like that; he has a greater purpose, even if it makes him seem a bit heartless, moving different pawns around the board to further his own ends. I do wonder what will happen if the Companions - who he seems to be a lot closer to - end up getting in the way of his quest...

    I also liked the way you wrote the speech Gared gave at the funeral - only giving everyone half the information. It's starting to show the difficulties of living these different dual lives of his. Keep it up!
    Haha, my first attempt at hiding secrets in plain sight is a success! I wonder when I shall do it again And I didn't expect you to remember the group of mages there, that's a nice catch. Not everything will be as it seems, though. He's playing a dangerous game of chess, and I'm not sure how long he can keep playing before his sins catch up to him.

    Thanks for the feedback on the speech, the italics were a last minute addition, glad they're being well received


    Quote Originally Posted by Turkafinwë View Post
    I wholeheartedly agree with Hitai on this one! Gared using people for his greater purpose but not particularly liking it, reluctant to shed the small bonds he made with these persons, though he still sheds them in the end. I especially liked the double-layered speech Gared gave at his father's funeral giving us a perspective the rest of the world wouldn't know about. The music you chose was, of course, marvelous and fitted perfectly for the occassion. You can never go wrong with music from Gladiator. My only criticism is that it was a tad too short for me, but that could be because I'm a slow reader. Either way it brought me into the right mood so I would describe it as a succes.
    Good to see you picked up on the reluctance, I feared it would be too subtle. I'm not that good at character development, I'm afraid. Also, thanks for the feedback on the music, I'll have to take that into consideration. I guess I'm something of a speed reader, I usually finish reading AAR chapters in less than 10 minutes. But that may be because I already know what I'm reading since I'm the one who typed it. I'll have to time myself the next time I read someone else's AAR chapter (just missed Hitai's one), that might be an interesting thing to do.


    Quote Originally Posted by Alwyn View Post
    Like Hitai and Turk, I enjoyed the combination of what Gared said and what he didn't say at the funeral. It sounds like he got used to a life in which he is constantly on the move to avoid his secret beign revealed. The encounter with Ri'saad is done well too, I look forward to seeing what will happen. Happy Chinese New Year!
    Indeed, but will Gared be able to keep this life up? Those questions will all be answered in good time. Happy CNY to you too, and thanks again to all of you for your constant feedback and support.
    Last edited by Swaeft; February 12, 2019 at 10:35 PM.

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    Default Re: Fractured Dragon - A Skyrim AAR

    Character List


    Gared Macer - An Adept pledged to the Mages' Hall, currently on a quest to discover the location of the lost Wellspring. Current ranks and titles held - Adept in the Mages' Hall, Praefect in the Imperial Legion, Rogue in the Thieves' Guild, Warrior in The Companions

    Legate Rikke - Co-commander (De Facto Leader) of Praefect Macer's Detachment, General Tullius' Chief Advisor

    Legionnaire Alwyn - Friend of Gared Macer, Legionnaire in Praefect Macer's Detachment

    Legionnaire Hadvar - Friend of Gared Macer, Legionnaire in Praefect Macer's Detachment




    Chapter VII: Kinship
    Gared Macer

    Middas | 19th of Last Seed | The Outskirts of Whiterun


    Ri’saad had looked at me as if I was demented. “Did you not hear what I said, Imperial? I got out of there as fast –”

    I removed from my pack the rest of the money I had obtained from selling my Praefect armour and held it out.

    Ri’saad’s eyes bulged at the sight of so much gold. He stuttered and stammered, before regaining his composure. “Of course, for a price, anything is possible. I will have to discuss this with my caravan members. Return to us at sundown and we shall give you our reply.”

    “Sundown? The day has just begun!” I argued impatiently that time was of the essence, but Ri’saad was adamant that the other three members of his caravan had to be consulted, and two of them were currently away on errands.

    “Could you not mark it on my map for me, then?”

    “No.” Ri’saad shook his head. “The mountains there are steep and treacherous, and within them lie many winding and confusing paths. You will never find it just by looking at a dot on a map. Besides, I will not have you lose your way in the mountains. We do this my way, or not at all.”

    I could see that any further protest would do more harm than good, and there was no way I could locate the ruin on my own, so I reluctantly acquiesced. “I will see you at sundown, then.”

    The Companions had been kind enough to leave me undisturbed for the past hour, but I knew that before long I would be called back to their service. Such was the life of a warrior for hire. And so when I sought out the two unspoken leaders of the Companions I had to tell yet another repulsive lie.

    “Sister Aela, Brother Vilkas, I seek your leave to head to Falkreath. The bandits who killed my father are still running about. This cannot stand. I intend to hunt them all down like the dogs that they are.” My voice trembled – both with mock rage, and self-loathing.

    Aela had nodded with firm approval, but Vilkas was more cautious in his reaction. “Be careful not to let the desire for revenge consume you, Gared. I don’t need to tell you what happens to those who –“

    “Begging your pardon, brother Vilkas.” I interrupted, uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken and wanting it to end as quickly as possible. “This time, I will be the one doing the ambushing. And I’ll take them on one by one.”

    “Take as long as you need, Companion.” Aela remarked. “Vilkas, we will not stop him. His heart yearns for righteous vengeances, and those filthy creatures need to see the error of their ways. You may return when you are done with them.”

    And so it was settled. I would be free of my obligations to the Companions, at least for a little while, though falsifying the truth to do so didn’t sit well with me at all.

    It was barely noon, and I didn’t feel like sitting around waiting for dusk to arrive. There is one more thing I should do.

    I saddled Aeonbarr and rode for the village of Riverwood.


    **

    Despite my nomadic lifestyle, I always told myself if I ever got to settle down somewhere, it would be in one of the southern holds. Personally, I always preferred the calm embrace of the wilds over the stony landscape of walled cities. It was much easier for me to appreciate a pack of elk striding gracefully through the woods, or the soothing serenity of crystal clear water flowing downstream at a constant pace, as opposed to, say, the bustling hubbub of a major city.

    As Aeonbarr sauntered down the idyllic footpaths heading to Riverwood, I was transported back to my childhood years. Although most of the memories of my youth are blur of training and travelling, I can always recall with fondness the pleasant times I had spent frolicking around the lush woodlands in and around Riverwood. The people were very friendly and welcoming, especially Lucan Valerius, who was a kindly shopkeeper who often gave me extra sweetrolls whenever I made a purchase.

    I rode a short distance to the west of the town and dismounted Aeonbarr near a small hut. As I approached the hut, I was dismayed to realize that I was feeling more apprehensive than I cared to. The last time didn’t end so well.


    I paused at the door. An elderly woman in her early sixties who looked younger than her age was mixing together some stew, using vegetables she had probably gathered from the wilds, and some fresh meat purchased from the local hunters.

    Just the way she liked it.

    I let the simple aroma waft towards my nostrils, before uttering a sentence I used to say every day at after dawn and before dusk. “That smells really good.” The woman turned around in surprise, clearly not expecting any visitors. She looked me up and down, and after a few moments, the wariness in her eyes was replaced by a spark of recognition.

    “Gared?” She dared to hope. I broke into a smile and spread my arms.

    “Indeed, mother.”

    My mother set her bowl of stew down and approached slowly, gingerly reaching out to touch my face. “Divines, it’s been too long. I’d almost forgotten what you looked like.” She pulled me into one of those motherly embraces that I had missed so much, and hugged me so tightly I almost cried. When she next spoke, she had to take deep breaths, and her voice came out ragged with elation.


    “Oh my, Gared. How you have grown.” She wiped away a few tears of her own before finding her voice again. “Come on in! Would you like some stew? What’s with the surprise visit? Finally found some time in your busy life to visit your dear mother?”

    A pang of guilt hit me, even as I chuckled and accepted some stew. Her words were blunt and cutting, as they should be. It was the simple truth – I hadn’t visited my mother often enough, and it was bordering on the edge of neglect.

    The stew tasted as excellent as ever, and I gulped it down in one go. “Slowly, Gared!” My mother chided. “A grown man and you still drink like a child.” I wiped away the residue on my lips with my hand and cracked a smile. Just like old times.

    “You’re right, mother, I do have a few hours to spare. Shall we speak by the lake? I always did love the view there.”

    “Of course, of course.” My mother beamed. “Just give me a few minutes, I’ll finish up here.”

    As I watched my mother scurry about tidying up the place, I realized just how much of a normal life she was trying to lead. Given the sensitivity and importance of his mission, my father thought it best that my mother lived in some nondescript area where no one would think to look. Somewhere far away from the major travel routes, yet not too far from civilization that gathering supplies and surviving would be difficult. Of course, if my father had his way, my mother would be living all alone, but she didn’t want to be completely cut off from human contact, and my father respected that.

    When my mother finally emerged, all smiles, I took her arm and together we strolled towards the lakeside. We said nothing – the companionship we afforded each other was enough. I simply enjoyed the rustling of the leaves as we stepped on them, as well as the cool freshness of the air.

    For the next few hours, my mother and I reminisced about days gone by. She fed me stories about how, as a child, I used to bawl my eyes out whenever I heard the howling of a wolf or the yelping of a dog. I grinned when she told me of the time when I first learned to swim, and I let loose a loud guffaw when she reminded me that I was so spooked by the first fish I saw I took a frantic leak in the waters of Lake Ilinalta. I in turn reminded her of her horrible cooking the first few times she whipped up some stew for me, and we shared a bout of laughter when I confessed to stealing cabbages from her kitchen and throwing them away because I hated the way they tasted.

    We watched elk and deer traipse around like they were the kings of the forest. We delighted in the feeling of bees buzzing around our necks, as ticklish as that was. We even trekked for a bit, and I helped my mother pluck a few mountain flowers that I thought would add nicely to the raw beauty of the hut and its surroundings. This was an amazing feeling – to feel familial comfort and to be unburdened – I could certainly have stayed here for an extended period of time, just reconnecting with my mother and making up for the childhood that I was deprived of.



    But all good things must come to an end. A couple of hours before the sun was due to set, my mother casually inquired as to the whereabouts of my father. “How did you manage to get away from his strict training regime?” She jested.

    My heart sank as I realized I would be able to hide the truth no longer, and that this blissful spell of elation was coming to an abrupt end. I stood up wordlessly and proceeded to remove a small urn from Aeonbarr’s saddle pouch. I held it with both hands and headed to the edge of the lake, motioning with my head for my mother to follow.

    My mother’s face darkened as she laid her eyes on the urn.

    “You know me, mother. I was never a good speaker, so forgive me for being blunt.” I inhaled before continuing. “Father was killed two weeks ago in Riften by a Thalmor mage. His funeral was held this morning in Whiterun.” I proffered the urn to my mother, even as her eyes narrowed and her fists clenched and unclenched. “This urn contains his ashes. I brought them here so you could scatter them into the lake as he wished, and perhaps, find some small measure of peace while doing so.”

    Instead of accepting the urn, my mother looked away, ashen faced, and said nothing.

    The awkward silence was suffocating, and when I could bear it no longer I opened my mouth, only to be silenced again by a wave of my mother’s hand. She was facing away from me, yet I could see the tears dripping off her face into the ground, and that was enough to still my tongue for the next few minutes.

    “I warned him.” She finally uttered. Her voice was full of pain, but behind the agony was something else – something I recognized to be anger. “I warned that this quest would be the death of him. But he didn’t listen.”

    “But –”

    “Don’t get me wrong, Gared. I loved your father deeply, and I admired the ideals he stood for. Protecting the weak, fulfilling his duty to his ancestors, these are all commendable goals. After all, that’s why I married him. But he had a duty to you and I as well, and he completely disregarded it.”

    “How can you speak of father like that?” I protested. “He had no choice. His ancestors bestowed this quest upon him.”

    “Indeed.” My mother retorted. “And you will one day do the same to your child, who will then pass it on to his or her child, and the viscous cycle will continue into eternity. Generations of our family will suffer.”

    “Mother, you of all people should understand the importance of –”

    My mother groaned with what sounded like disdain, and sat down next to the bank of the lake. She stared into the distance wistfully as I joined her.


    “I am well aware of the power of this Wellspring, Gared. Your father took great care to impress that upon me when I reluctantly agreed to live my days in this tiny hut so no one could use me against him. But have you, before taking up this mantle, thought of the fact that hundreds of years have passed, yet it still remains elusive? Have you never wondered that perhaps it was never meant to be found and you are all just wasting your lives?”

    This…this same argument is why my last visit with father didn’t end well. I had hoped to avoid this…

    My downcast expression must have showed, because my mother clapped me on the shoulder and softened her tone. “Do not think of me as an unkind, self-centered woman, Gared. I only want what’s best for you. I’ve seen for myself what this lust for power has done to your father, and I don’t want the same to happen to you. I don’t want you to go down the same path, Gared. Don’t make the same mistakes your father did. Go live a life of your choosing. Don’t you want to settle down someday, take a wife, and have kids of your own? Let the Wellspring rot in some forgotten corner of the world. Perhaps it’s best if it’s truly lost.”

    Once again my mother’s words stung, but to these questions I knew the answers to.

    “I do this so that one day, all of Tamriel’s families can live free of the shadow that magic has cast on them. This is greater than one person, and if I have to dedicate my life to it, I shall, for I believe it is a worthy goal.”

    My mother folded her arms. “Are those your words, or your father’s?”

    “I see that I have overstayed my welcome. I shall take my leave, then. Tonight I will be journeying to Eastmarch to explore a dwemer ruin named Mzulft.” I stated, ignoring my mother’s question and her accusatory stare. “I strongly believe that the Wellspring lies somewhere inside. I will find it, and I will finish what my ancestors started all those years ago.”

    As I headed back to Aeonbarr, my mother shook her head in disappointment and called out after me. “And if it’s not there? What then?”

    I patted Aeonbarr lightly and gracefully mounted him, before glancing over at my mother, still muttering to herself and standing with her hands on her hips. “Mother.” I said, considering my next words carefully. “Despite what you may think of me, know that I love you deeply, and that I too yearn to cast this all aside and settle down. But I have a duty to both you and father, and I will not shirk one for the other. I will not be the one to throw away centuries of work.”

    “Don’t come back, then.” My mother declared. “Begone. These visits cause me more heartache than comfort. The sudden rise of hope and the cruel loss of it just hours later is too much for me to bear, and this old heart can’t take any more.”

    Her last sentence crushed me. “Goodbye, mother.” I managed to eke out. Aeonbarr plodded forwards slowly, and as we drew further and further away from the hut, it became abundantly clear that no reply was forthcoming. Sighing heavily, I looked skyward and muttered a desperate prayer.

    Please be at Mzulft. Please.

    Had I looked back once more, I would have seen my mother finally breaking into tears, carrying father’s urn with her to the lake and praying in solitude to the eight divines.






    Author's Note:
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Sorry for the delay in between updates, but the chapter is here now. It is a bit on the lengthy side (or at least, what is considered lengthy these days), 2.7k words, similar to the battle of Korvanjund. I will be first to admit that I'm not that good at character development, so any feedback or critique you can give me for this particular scene would be extra useful. Of course, if you just want to chill and read the story that's fine too, what matters is that you enjoy it.

    No music this chapter, though I am very tempted to add one later on should I find a suitable one. I usually listen to instrumental music when I write, so if I do find a piece that's well suited I'll add it in.

    Fun fact: Annekke Crag Jumper is the NPC used to portray Gared's mum, I picked her because she is listed as one of the older ones. The bandit slaying quest she gave me was hard! Lost Knife Hideout was a really scenic place, though.

    Gared's travels this chapter:
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Last edited by Swaeft; March 02, 2019 at 06:10 AM. Reason: Lmao I've been living in Tirdas this whole time

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  14. #34
    Turkafinwë's Avatar The Sick Baby Jester
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    Default Re: Fractured Dragon - A Skyrim AAR

    I really liked this one, the encounter with the mother and the affirmation of Gared's quest. Using someone close to the main character to try and convince him to abandon his "fool's errand" is always a very effective way to strengthen the resolve in him or make him doubt it, depends on where you want it to go.

    I think you're doing an excellent job in developing the characters so I can't give much advice on that. I also believe how "deep" you go in character development is all up to the writer himself, how "deep" he wants to go with it, what kind of character he tries to create so I think it's hard to give advice on it in general. At least that's what I find. I can however give you my findings on Gared and then you can see if what I perceive is what you want the character to be. When I find the time I'll give you a summary on what I think who Gared is if that's okay with you?

    A great continuation of Gared's story and I'm really stoked to see the journey to Mzulft and then Mzulft itself of course! Don't worry about the delays, the chapters come when they come!


    PS: (NINE Divines - Praise Talos )

  15. #35
    Swaeft's Avatar Drama King
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    Default Re: Fractured Dragon - A Skyrim AAR

    Quote Originally Posted by Turkafinwë View Post
    I really liked this one, the encounter with the mother and the affirmation of Gared's quest. Using someone close to the main character to try and convince him to abandon his "fool's errand" is always a very effective way to strengthen the resolve in him or make him doubt it, depends on where you want it to go.

    I think you're doing an excellent job in developing the characters so I can't give much advice on that. I also believe how "deep" you go in character development is all up to the writer himself, how "deep" he wants to go with it, what kind of character he tries to create so I think it's hard to give advice on it in general. At least that's what I find. I can however give you my findings on Gared and then you can see if what I perceive is what you want the character to be. When I find the time I'll give you a summary on what I think who Gared is if that's okay with you?

    A great continuation of Gared's story and I'm really stoked to see the journey to Mzulft and then Mzulft itself of course! Don't worry about the delays, the chapters come when they come!


    PS: (NINE Divines - Praise Talos )
    Lovely, thanks! Also that's good advice there, I'll keep that in mind when writing character growth portions in future. Oh, that summary thing would be cool and it's really kind of you to offer, but please please do it only if you have the time and want to

    Mzulft will be...different. That's all I'm going to say, heh.

    P.P.S. Stormcloak traitor! Get him lads!

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  16. #36
    Swaeft's Avatar Drama King
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    Default Re: Fractured Dragon - A Skyrim AAR

    Character List


    Gared Macer - An Adept pledged to the Mages' Hall, currently on a quest to discover the location of the lost Wellspring. Current ranks and titles held - Adept in the Mages' Hall, former Praefect in the Imperial Legion, Rogue in the Thieves' Guild, Warrior in The Companions

    Legate Rikke - General Tullius' Chief Advisor

    Legionnaire Alwyn - Friend of Gared Macer, Legionnaire in Praefect Macer's Detachment

    Legionnaire Hadvar - Friend of Gared Macer, Legionnaire in Praefect Macer's Detachment




    Chapter VIII: Adventure
    Gared Macer

    Turdas | 20th of Last Seed | The Eastmarch Mountains


    “Imperial, we’re here.”

    Ri’saad shook me from my slumber and muttered something about not going any farther. It would seem that despite my best efforts, I fell asleep after all.

    I hopped off the back of the Khajit caravan and stared at the sky in wonder. Bright, scintillating auroras were making waves in the night sky, lighting up the surroundings easily despite the unholy hour of night. The auroras were a kaleidoscope of different colours, sometimes they were red, sometimes they were mainly green, and at other times they exuded a purple hue. It was breath-taking to watch, and I felt a slight tinge of regret at not remaining asleep during the majority of the journey.


    “Yes, those are quite the spectacle.” Ri’saad mumbled, somewhat annoyed at my just standing there. “If you would be so kind as to direct your attention a little closer to the ground, the dwemer ruin of Mzulft is a few hundred metres ahead, up that mountain.” Ri’saad extended a crooked finger and pointed at some crumbling architecture on the mountain ahead. “When you’re done, follow this same path all the way down and do not deviate from it until you reach the Darkwater River. That will bring you out of this mountain region.”

    I nodded and handed Ri’saad a thick pouch of Septims. One of his caravan members unhooked Aeonbarr from the caravan and led him over to me. “Many thanks.” The Khajit known as Atahbah remarked. “Your horse is strong, and without him we would not have made such good time.”

    I patted Aeonbarr affectionately as the Khajit merchants waved their goodbyes. It was only when they had disappeared from sight that I realized I was shivering. The warm air of Whiterun Hold was gone, now replaced by the chilly mountain winds of Eastmarch. Best get inside those ruins.

    The climb would probably have taken me an hour or more on foot, but with such an experienced and sure footed horse like Aeonbarr, I reached the entrance of the ruins in less than fifteen minutes. Once I reached the top, I sat atop Aeonbarr for a short period of time, unsure of what I expected to find. All was still and silent, so I dismounted and led him to the side.

    Whilst rummaging through the largest of Aeonbarr’s saddle pouches, I took a cursory glance around the immediate area. No bodies. What happened to the fight the Khajits claimed to witness? There were no signs of a battle, at least, none that I could pick up on. Perhaps the bodies are buried under the snow.

    I removed a set of heavy armour from the pouch I was digging around in, and Aeonbarr snorted in delight at having a significant amount of weight taken off his back. Good boy.

    The armour was, like most of my equipment, handed down to me by my father. However, unlike my sword or my pack, this was not given to me. Regrettably, this was removed from his corpse the day I found him at Falkreath, before I brought his body back to Whiterun. This was father’s most revered item – the armour of a Master of the Mage’s Hall. Expertly crafted by arcanists of times gone by, only a few of these treasured artefacts still existed, and my father was fortunate enough to be the owner of it.

    The armour was invaluable not because of the mithril and other rare earth elements used in its fusing, but because of the incantations bound and poured into it. Father often spoke of how the protective wards woven into the armour had saved his life on many occasions, and how this little detail was the most important aspect of the armour.

    As I donned the armour, I admired the glowing blue lights that ran along various portions of the armour – it was almost as if they had a life of their own. Don’t touch those, Gared. I recalled my father saying. Some say a fragment of the Wellspring’s power than runs within these glyphs and inscriptions. I’ve tested them myself, you know. I had to throw three fireballs at it before the first flames broke through the wards and started to singe the armour.

    I would most likely need this form of pre-emptive protection delving into the unknown. I clipped my sword onto the belt and transferred some of the pouches from Aeonbarr’s saddle onto the belt as well. For a journey as mysterious and unpredictable as this, it would only do me good to come well prepared, and I had stocked up on health poultices, healing potions and other restorative foodstuff, all packed nicely into my pouches, in addition to spare oil for my lantern, general foodstuffs and a bunch of torches. For all I knew, I could be down there for the next few weeks.

    “Alright, buddy.” I scratched Aeonbarr’s mane, and he nickered happily. “This might take a while, so feel free to run around if you want.”

    I took one last look at the mesmerizing, arching auroras as they crossed from one end of the horizon to the other, spilling forth with radiance and elegance. As the transcending beauty of the night sky filled me with hope, one sombre thought wormed its way into my mind.

    Father would have loved to be here. To see this to its conclusion.

    Then, shaking my head, I threw open the doors with some difficulty, and descended into the depths of the unknown, lighting a torch along the way.

    I didn’t have to go far before I was greeted by the body of a robed individual, slumped against the stone walls.



    Hadvar

    Turdas | 20th of Last Seed | The City of Solitude

    It had been a long time since I last set foot into the Imperial seat of power in Skyrim, but I never did forget Solitude’s imposing presence. Its high towers and stone walls inspired both awe and intimidation amongst the populace, which was how I always felt when I entered the city.

    Alwyn had filled me in on what had happened during our retreat from The Pale, and even now I still struggled to digest the mind-boggling truth. Gared, my friend, my Praefect…a mage.

    I grudgingly accepted the fact that Gared being with us had done more good than harm – he was good with a sword and could lead men, but there was no telling what his intentions were now, especially since he had ridden off with the Jagged Crown and basically deserted.

    How do you trust a man like that?

    The two guards in front of Castle Dour opened the doors to let us in, and it wasn’t long before we were standing in the main chamber, nervous, uncomfortable, and anxiously dreading the arrival of General Tullius.

    “What do we tell the General?” I had asked whilst we were still on the road. Alwyn had thought long and hard on this issue before explaining to me his stance on the matter, and after a time, I had agreed with him.

    But going along with it didn’t mean that I liked it. We were comrades, we were brothers, we were ready to die for one another, and Gared just walked away from all that all too easily. He swore undying loyalty to the Emperor and the Legion, and yet this has happened. Alwyn had shared my concerns and seemed similarly aggrieved, though he was doing a good job of hiding it.

    “General Tullius, commander of the Ninth Legion.” A crier announced. Instinctively, Alwyn and I straightened our backs, but our pallid faces must have given away the bad news. “Soldiers.” The general rasped. “Legate Adventus here tells me you have news for me about the Jagged Crown. Where are your commanders? Why aren’t they here?”

    Those questions were expected. Alwyn and I took turns to recount the majority of the tale, from the start of our expedition to Korvanjund to the skirmish east of Morthal. After which, I only opened my mouth to fill in for him on the rare occasions when he slowed his speech.


    For the most part, the general was silent. To my utmost surprise, when Alwyn mentioned that a “rogue mage” had attacked us, killed Gared, the Stormcloaks and stole the crown, the general’s expression did not change at all, save for a slight quiver of his lips.

    “It is as I had feared, then.” General Tullius finally stated. “You may not know this, right before you two arrived, I received a ransom note from Ulfric himself. He claims to have the remainder of your detachment, including Legate Rikke, and he wants the Jagged Crown in exchange for their release. The terms are non-negotiable. Apparently, he is under the illusion that we have mages working for us.”

    My mind didn’t even register the general’s last sentence – it felt like I had just taken a strong punch to the stomach. I was completely dismayed to learn that Ulfric had captured the rest of our detachment, and I shuddered to think of what he was doing to them right now.

    “I dismissed that claim as wild nonsense, but now it seems that his letter had an element of truth to it.” The general paused to confer with his castle commander, Legate Adventus, leaving Alwyn and I to stand around and ponder over the fate of our compatriots. After a few moments, the Legate departed, and General Tullius turned to face us once more.



    “You both have performed really well, having survived all that and bringing me this news.” He remarked. “Efforts will be made to secure the release of your fellow legionnaires, but for now, seeing as you have lost your Praefect and your Legate has been captured, I have no choice but to assign you to another detachment – the eighty fifth.”

    Silence enveloped the chamber as we absorbed this new information. After a time, Alwyn was the first to speak up. “General? To my knowledge, there are only eighty four detachments spread throughout Skyrim.” Alwyn commented. “Are we to be posted out of Skyrim?”

    For a brief moment, I feared that that would be the case. The news that had been filtering in from Cyrodiil recently had been bad. Rumours that the Elder Council and the Thalmor Government were at each other’s throats had spread throughout Imperial camps, heightening tensions and stoking much distrust. Whatever the situation was in the Imperial heartland, I had no desire to be posted out of my own homeland. But a shake of the General’s head put those worries to bed straightaway.

    “Over the past few weeks, we have trained up enough new recruits to form one more detachment, which I am christening as the eighty fifth.” The general said. “And the eighty fifth needs a commander.” He paused to acknowledge Legate Adventus, who had returned carrying a helmet similar to the one Praefect Gared used to wear. Wrong. He’s just Gared now.

    “Normally there’s a more elaborate ceremony, but under the circumstances this will have to suffice. Legionnaire Alwyn, step forward.”

    Alwyn did so, his eyes widening as he realized what was happening. It took me a few extra moments and for Alwyn to bow his head before the same realization hit me. After I got over the initial shock, I began to feel glad that he had finally been recognized and rewarded for his efforts. The Eight knows he deserves this.

    “Legate Adventus here tells me that you’ve served honourably for quite some time now, and that both Legate Rikke and Praefect Macer had written you up for a promotion. So wear this helm with pride, Praefect, and remember that you now embody the high standards of the Imperial Legion more than ever before. Most importantly, never forget the reason we are here, fighting for the stability and order of the Empire.”

    General Tullius placed the helmet onto Alwyn’s head and saluted. Alwyn did likewise, the thump of his armored fist banging off his chest-plate resonating throughout the chamber.

    “Congratulations, Praefect. Remember to keep your sword sharp, and your wits sharper still.”

    “Yes, general.” Alwyn’s voice was steady but rife with excitement. “What are my orders?”

    “You have two days to rest and introduce yourself to your detachment, who are currently quartered in the castle barracks. After that, head for the city of Whiterun and report to Legate Quintus Cipius. Jarl Balgruuf has finally accepted our offer of assistance.”

    “Yes, General.” Praefect Alwyn replied. Almost as an afterthought, he added: “What will you do about the mage?”

    General Tullius frowned. “I will leave this matter to the Thalmor. Best they be the ones to die trying to track down and apprehend a mage. I will not send my own men for this.”

    Alwyn shot me an uneasy glance. “General, perhaps it would be best if we did not –”

    “That will be all, Praefect.” General Tullius did not raise his voice, but he uttered that phrase with a strong hint of finality. “You have your orders.”

    “Yes, General.”

    As Alwyn and I both departed Castle Dour, I told myself that was almost certainly what Gared deserved, but deep down, I couldn’t help but feel a touch of concern for the man whom I used to look up to.


    ???
    Turdas | 20th of Last Seed | Somewhere in Skyrim

    “They’re coming. Four Thalmor, patrolling the roads. What are you going to do?”

    I paid the young boy five Septims and ignored his question. “Run far away from here, and don’t come back.”

    As the young lad scampered away, I released the barriers in my mind and waited for the Thalmor patrol to approach.




    Author's Notes

    It is with great pleasure that I bring you this new chapter, a bit of a departure from the standard Gared only chapters to advance the plot in other areas. The music was a toss up between the current one and 'Spectre Induction' from Mass Effect, but in the end I felt the ME track sounded a bit too futuristic and the current one from Anthem fit better.

    A few Septims for you if you manage to guess our new character correctly, though I doubt it's much of a mystery.

    Gared's travels this chapter:
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Last edited by Swaeft; March 02, 2019 at 06:34 AM.

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  17. #37
    Turkafinwë's Avatar The Sick Baby Jester
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    Default Re: Fractured Dragon - A Skyrim AAR

    Another lovely chapter with great screenshots allround! (Favourite is Armoured up Gared about to enter Mzulft) Tension is building up on all fronts with Gared about to enter Mzulft not knowing what he will encounter, the Empire's and Thalmor's increasing hostile relations and a mysterious character encountering a Thalmor patrol (which is never a good sign). I've never been someone that likes to guess so I won't start now. The music was great once again!

    Quote Originally Posted by Swaeft View Post
    Lovely, thanks! Also that's good advice there, I'll keep that in mind when writing character growth portions in future. Oh, that summary thing would be cool and it's really kind of you to offer, but please please do it only if you have the time and want to

    Mzulft will be...different. That's all I'm going to say, heh.

    P.P.S. Stormcloak traitor! Get him lads!
    I want and will do it when I get the time I need to invest in it properly. Don't worry, if I didn't want to do it I wouldn't have offered it my friend. I'm glad I can be of service (or so I hope .)

    P.P.P.S. Thalmor scum!

  18. #38
    Swaeft's Avatar Drama King
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    Default Re: Fractured Dragon - A Skyrim AAR

    Quote Originally Posted by Turkafinwë View Post
    Another lovely chapter with great screenshots allround! (Favourite is Armoured up Gared about to enter Mzulft) Tension is building up on all fronts with Gared about to enter Mzulft not knowing what he will encounter, the Empire's and Thalmor's increasing hostile relations and a mysterious character encountering a Thalmor patrol (which is never a good sign). I've never been someone that likes to guess so I won't start now. The music was great once again!



    I want and will do it when I get the time I need to invest in it properly. Don't worry, if I didn't want to do it I wouldn't have offered it my friend. I'm glad I can be of service (or so I hope .)

    P.P.P.S. Thalmor scum!
    Well, you picked up on just about everything I wanted the readers to pick up on, great job! I tried to sneak that deteriorating relations part in, but you are a sharp one. Thank you so much for your kind words.

    P.P.P.P.S. Thalmor? Are you kidding me? For the Emperor!

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  19. #39
    Alwyn's Avatar Frothy Goodness
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    Default Re: Fractured Dragon - A Skyrim AAR

    Nicely done, I'm enjoying this! I like the detail of Aeonbarr's reaction to the removal of the heavy burden and I wondered about General Tullius's reaction to the report of the rogue mage (does he know, or suspect, more than he's saying?). I wonder how the 85th detachment will get on in this dangerous world, and whether the slumped figure will help or hinder Gared's mission (if they'll do either).

  20. #40
    Swaeft's Avatar Drama King
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    Default Re: Fractured Dragon - A Skyrim AAR

    Quote Originally Posted by Alwyn View Post
    Nicely done, I'm enjoying this! I like the detail of Aeonbarr's reaction to the removal of the heavy burden and I wondered about General Tullius's reaction to the report of the rogue mage (does he know, or suspect, more than he's saying?). I wonder how the 85th detachment will get on in this dangerous world, and whether the slumped figure will help or hinder Gared's mission (if they'll do either).
    Very good points, Alwyn, I will be sure to address them (congrats on your promotion ) in future updates! That point about General Tullius is interesting indeed...

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