Skyrim: The Ragtags

The time has come. The Greybeards have sensed the return of the Dragonborn. 13 year old Ingmar must be escorted to a safehouse before Klokimaar, an Elder Dragon intent on reviving Alduin, discovers his existence and kills him. And WHO do the Greybeards hire? Why, a pair of feuding Nord siblings, a blind Orc, a sarcastic Wood Elf, a Khajiit thief, and a Breton werewolf.....WHAT COULD GO WRONG?!


1. The Time Has Come

-High Hrothgar-

High Hrothgar. A majestic castle built just under the Throat of the World, home of two mighty dragons named Paarthurnax and Odahviing. Anyone who knew of this sacred place was sure to know the legend of the man who traveled there to speak with Paarthurnax during the time of Alduin's reign; the legend of the Dragonborn. A man gifted with the Words of Power who risked everything to slay the evil dragon. After the defeat of Alduin, legend said he met the daughter of a farmer and settled down; eventually inheriting her father's farm. He lived a happy life, not long after bringing his own son into the world and raising him as a hard working man. Ingmund the Dragonborn died while defending his home from bandits. Now his son, Ingmar, lives with his mother Sarina at the family farm. Life is peaceful and good.

But all that was about to change.


Arngeir, speaker for the Greybeards, opened the heavy door into High Hrothgar. Shutting out the wind behind him, he looked up to see the three other masters waiting silently for him.

"I have spoken to Lords Paarthurnax and Odahviing," he said sadly, "It is as we have feared. The Elder Dragon, Klakimaar, is trying to revive Alduin. He feels that he must rid Skyrim of all Dragonborns before his master's return. He will seek out the boy. Master Borri," the elder to the right took a step forward, taking a small list from Arngeir's hand, "Odahviing has told us to summon everyone on this list to High Hrothgar. Lord Paarthurnax will retrieve the boy himself, to ensure he gets here safely. Master Wolfgar and Einarth shall prepare the meeting hall for our guests. Quickly now, there isn't much time."

As the other masters scurried off to perform their duties, Arngeir glanced out the window, shivering as he noticed a large dragon flying in the distance. He knew Klokimaar would never be so foolish as to approach the nest of Paarthurnax and Odahviing, yet even from that distance the Elder Dragon struck fear into the old man's heart. He was the oldest dragon alive aside from Paarthurnax and Alduin's most loyal follower. His master's demise had been a particularly harsh blow to him. Now he seeks revenge against the child of the late Dragonborn; the only one who has any chance of stopping Alduin's return.

"The time has come," Arngeir whispered to himself as Klokimaar changed course, "we must rely on the power of the Dragonborn yet again."



"I swear! I have no idea how that got in there!"

"No one else has a key to your strong box, Brand-Shei. This is your second offense," the guard scowled, "I doubt the Jarl will be as forgiving as she was before. Let's go."

As the furious Dark Elf was led away, a shadow began to purr.

"Rasha cannot believe how easy that was," a black Khajiit gave her silvery hair a toss with a clawed hand, "Rasha does believe she is getting better than you, Brynjolf."

An elderly Nord chuckled as he left his stand, "Don't get too carried away, Lass."

"Rasha wishes to know why she can't get carried away. Rasha is good thief. Is Brynjolf denying that?"

"Not at all," he laughed again, "You're one of the best," he laid a gentle hand atop her head, "just remember who taught you everything you know."

Before the feline could retort, the pair were approached by a male Argonian. The lizard man turned to Rasha and took her hands in his.

"Hello, my darling. I was just admiring your work. Flawless, as always."

"Okan-Ru," Brynjolf rolled his eyes, "if you keep spoiling your wife, she'll become overconfident. Overconfidence leads to failure, and failure leads to death."

Ignoring the Nord, Okan-Ru pulled a small note from his pocket, "A letter for you, love. Straight from High Hrothgar."

Both Rasha and Brynjolf leaned forward to read the note.

-Rasha the Sleek

You have been summoned to High Hrothgar. More details will be given upon your arrival. Your presence is desired at once, so do not delay.

-Argneir, Speaker for The Greybeards

"What could the Greybeards want with you, Lass?"

"Rasha is unsure," the Khajiit shook her head, "but Rasha must go to High Hrothgar right away. Okan-Ru, tell our cubs that I will be home as soon as I can."

Her mate nodded and pulled her close to him, "Don't worry, Julanza and Rakasha will be safe in Riften. You just worry about coming home."



"No one joins the Companions without impressing Surani first," a large Nord with unruly hair crossed his arms, "and trust me, she's hard to impress."

"Also hard to bed," another Nord, a blonde known as Torvar, gave a small chuckle, "Amulet of Mara or not, she won't just take anyone."

"Torvar," the larger Nord scowled, "show some respect for your Harbinger!"

The blonde gave a smirk, "Oh come on, Farkas. We've all seen how you and Vilkas look at her. I wonder which one of you will bed her first."

Before Farkas could retort, the doors to Jorrvaskr flew open to reveal a small Breton woman with blonde hair and silver eyes. She was pale and wore fur armor and wolf boots. A steel war ax hung at her side, the blade freshly cleaned and sharpened. She had on a silver ring with a small design in the shape of a wolf's head on her right hand. Around her neck was an Amulet of Mara, a sure sign that she was looking for marriage.

Both Torvar and Farkas fell silent as their Harbinger took a slow step towards the newcomer. She looked the boy up and down, placing her hand on her hips and scowling.

"Farkas, tell me something."

"What's that?"

"Have you kept yourself hidden inside Jorrvaskr for so long, that you have forgotten what a mail courier looks like?"

The boy breathed a breath of relief as the giant Nord began to stammer badly.

"Honestly," Surani scowled, "if you have nothing to do, then go hunting! The hall could always use more meat. Or would you rather clean the privy?"

"Ouch," Torvar chuckled, "SOMEONE'S in the dog house."

He fell silent once more at Surani's scowl, "And I'll deal with YOU later."

"L-lady Surani," the courier stammered, holding out a letter, "this is for you from the Greybeards!"

"Greybeards," she raised an eyebrow, taking the letter, "interesting."

-Surani the Beast

You have been summoned to High Hrothgar. More details will be given upon your arrival. Your presence is desired at once, so do not delay.

-Argneir, Speaker for The Greybeards

"Very well," she sighed, tossing the letter to Torvar, "Farkas," the Nord stepped forward, "inform Vilkas of my departure. Also, be sure to tell him that he and Aela are in charge until I return!"

"At once,Surani!"

"Torvar," he jumped at her command, "ready my horse. I must ready myself for the journey to High Hrothgar."


-Just Outside of Solitude-

"Easy Shadowmere," he said, smiling as his black mare settled and continued to walk on, "that's a good girl."

The Nord eased his grip on the reigns, allowing the horse to head home at her own pace. The trees became thinner as Katla's farm came into view. A salty breeze rode on the winds, bringing a slight warmth to the man's face. As he rode through the farm's gate, he was greeted by a peculiar sight; Fridrika and Geimund, the owners of Solitude's stables (and Katla's tenants), were arguing with a scrawny mail courier. They seemed very upset by whatever he had told them. Pulling Shadowmere to a stop, he dismounted and grabbed the large sack of fox and wolf pelts he had strapped to her saddle.

"Fridrika," he called out, "is something wrong?"

"Areas," she breathed a sigh of relief, "this buffoon said he's got a letter for you. Geimund told him that he'd give it to you, and that's when this fool said it was for your eyes only. Says the letter is from the Greybeards."

Brushing a strand of his long black hair out of his golden gaze, his eyebrows shot up in surprise. Areas held out his hand, accepting the letter. Opening it, he smirked as Fridrika and Geimund shoved each other aside to get a better look.

-Areas the Raven

You have been summoned to High Hrothgar. More details will be given upon your arrival. Your presence is desired at once, so do not delay.

-Argneir, Speaker for The Greybeards

"Areas," Geimund gave him a quizzical look, "I thought the Raven was retired?"

Scowling, the Nord merely folded the letter and put it in his pocket, "I was. But I can't ignore a call from the Greybeards. Looks like I'm heading to High Hrothgar. Geimund, would you mind watering Shadowmere while I go pack."

"Of course."

As he walked away his wife turned to her friend, "Areas...should I go and get your equipment?"

"If you would be so kind," the Nord nodded, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder, "something tells me that I'm going to need it on this trip. Thank you again for keeping them safe."

Turning, he made his way up the hill to the gates of Solitude. The Stormcloak guard gave him a brief nod as he walked inside.

"Staying safe I hope?"

"No place safer than Solitude," Areas smiled, nodding back, "don't let them work you too hard, Thonro."

"I'd be a lot happier with a belly full of mead!"

The two men shared a laugh as the gate shut behind him. Walking through the streets towards Proudspire Manor, Areas couldn't help but take in the happiness. Even though High King Ulfric Stormcloak sat on the throne in Castle Dour, the people prospered. Solitude was a pure Nord city, much to Areas' distaste, but he wasn't about to speak against the High King. As he passed by Radiant Raiment, he gave a wave of greeting to it's new Nord owner. Rostei blushed and hurried to catch up with him. As she began to talk about her day, Areas couldn't help but miss the Altmer sisters that had once run the shop. Rude though they were, the sisters were straight to the point and helped him when he retired, and he repaid them by chopping wood for their fireplace and catching the occasional shoplifter. After a while, the three gained a certain respect for one another. When Ulfric won the war, however, they were thrown out with every other Non-Nord race. He wasn't sure where they were now, but he hoped they were safe.

"Areas," Rostei's voice cut through his thoughts, "are you okay?"

By now, they had reached Proudspire Manor. Pulling the key out of his pocket, Areas unlocked it and went inside without so much as a goodbye. Dropping the bag of pelts, he walked down a flight to his basement. There was an alchemy table, training dummy, and weapons of all sorts adorning the walls. At the far end of the room was another door, a large lock in place. As the Nord approached it, he reached beneath his tunic to pull out a black key on a rawhide string. Unlocking the door, he opened it with a sigh. The ebony armor gleamed in the light of a nearby torch. Areas couldn't deny that it was beautiful...flawless...perfect.


Startled by the sudden noise upstairs, he closed the closet and hurried to the door. Opening it, he gazed in surprise at the mail courier from earlier.

"M-master Areas," he said, breathing heavily, "I- I have a..."

"Take a breath boy," the Nord chuckled, "what's the problem?"

"I was wondering if you'd deliver this other letter for me? It's also from the Greybeards but...the guards won't let me into the jail to deliver it."

"Jail," the black haired man's eyebrows shot skywards, "Let me see that letter."

Taking the parchment from the man, he read the name scrawled on the top. Closing his eyes, he gave a sigh.

"Oh, this day just gets better and better."


-Windhelm Jail-

Areas strode through the halls, ignoring the threats and begs of the other inmates. Going straight back, he was met with another Stormcloak guard.

"Areas," he greeted, "what brings you here?"

"I'm posting bail for your...special prisoner."

The guard paled," Are you sure, Areas? She's kind of...insane!"

"Trust me," the Nord scowled as he opened the gate to the next room, "I know."

The room was large and had four cells along the right side of the wall with torture devices on the left. Suddenly a large wave of flames erupted from the last cell, along with an enraged roar.

"Do you have any idea who I am, you bastards," a woman screamed, sending more flames everywhere, "I am Fyermir the Bloody! I can rip your skin clear from your bodies before you even felt the pain! I can rip out your eyes and shove them down your throat so you can watch my blade tear your carcass open!"

"Give it a rest, Fy," he said, smirking, "you'll just tire yourself out."

"I'd recognize that arrogance anywhere," a tall Nord woman with ebony hair approached the bars, her light gold eyes sparkling as she gave him an evil smirk, ""

He approached her cell, his smirk never leaving as he sighed.

"You look good," she said, "retirement suits you."

"I've...come out of retirement," he said, "not by choice, but still."

Fyermir then became serious, "Whatever it is must be pretty damned important if it makes you come out of retirement."

He nodded, "I need you to come with me."

"Can't," she said curtly, "I'm working right now."

"Oh yes," he chuckled, "I can see how hard you're working."

"You don't understand," she insisted, lowering her voice, "Ulfric contacted the Brotherhood."

Areas looked at her in shock, his voice also lowering, "What? Why would he need the assassins?"

"He's discovered a coup against him. By the Jarl of Windhelm!"

"I see," her brother nodded, "and if he mobilized his troops then the Jarl will find out and escape."

She nodded, "He gave this mission to me personally. He wants it done quickly and quietly."

"And how does screaming and using Fire Magica count as quietly?"

She shrugged "I was bored. I'm waiting for nightfall."

"Ah," her brother smirked, "I see. Since the jail is directly UNDER the palace, all you had to do to get inside was get arrested. How'd you swing that?"

Fyermir smirked back, "I stole the Jarl's horse."

"Nice," he chuckled, "but I still need you to come with me."

She scowled, "I wouldn't even if I could. Anyone who threatens Ulfric's life needs to die."



"The Greybeards have summoned us," she froze, "here."

She took her letter and read it, giving a sigh.

"I still need to finish this job," she said, "Asufir is at the stables. Give me twenty minutes and I'll meet you out there."


Areas sat in his saddle, holding tightly to a pinto stallion's reigns. Shadowmere gave a soft nicker, her ears swiveling forward as the gates of Windhelm opened to reveal Fyermir. She was now dressed in shrouded armor, a red and black fabric that clung to her frame and brought out every curve. On her left hip was a golden hilted scimitar. She smirked as she mounted Asufir, her faithful steed. Shadowmere gave a happy neigh and nuzzled her leg. Smiling, she reached over and patted the mare.

"How'd it go?"

"I must report back to King Ulfric."

"All right," her brother nodded as they spurred their horses into action, "I've got to pick up some supplies anyways."



"Of course I get assigned the one person who hides in the woods," the courier scowled, slowly stepping over a log, "Who builds a cabin in the middle of nowhere?!"

He glanced down at the letter in his hand. In fancy lettering was the name Avon Hawk-Eye. The courier sighed in frustration. It had taken him nearly all day to travel to Falkreath, only to learn that Avon didn't live in the town itself. A drunkard at the inn had drawn him a crude map to where he thought Avon's hunting cabin was located. Now, the boy was hopelessly lost. His eyes scanned the thick trees, catching a glimpse of the occasional elk or rabbit.

"Avon," he called out, "Avon Hawk-Eye! I have a letter for you!"

By now, the sun had begun to set and cloak the forest in shadows. The courier became nervous. After all, the number of wolves and bears in Falkreath were worse than any other part of Skyrim.

"A-Avon? Master Avon?"

Suddenly, the courier stopped and froze. He could hear the sound of something big walking through the fallen leaves. It moved slowly, like it was trying not to be seen. The courier, however, easily spotted the glowing yellow eyes. The wolf, realizing it's hiding spot had been discovered, leaped towards the defenseless young man. He screamed and shielded himself with his arms, squeezing his eyes shut.

Suddenly, the animal gave a split second yelp before the sound of splintering wood rang through the courier's ears.

"You okay," he opened his eyes to see a laughing Wood Elf, "didn't your ma teach you to stay out of the woods at night?"

The courier glanced up and gave a cry of fright. The wolf was pinned to a tree, hanging by the arrow in its skull. The Elf gave another chuckle before reaching down to help him up.

"What's an itty bitty fella like yourself doing on my side of town?"

"I-I'm looking for Avon Hawk-Eye. I have a letter for him."

"Well then," the Elf smirked, "hand it over."

The courier's eyebrow raised, "You're Avon?"

"Last I checked," he said sarcastically, "who's this letter from?"

"High Hrothgar."

"What would a group of old Nords want with me?"

As he opened his letter to read it, the courier looked him over. He wasn't that tall, barely passing himself in height, and wore standard leather armor. On his hip was a golden Dwarf sword and an Orcish bow on his back, along with a quiver of Orcish arrows.

"Well now," the Elf's voice cut through his thoughts, "this seems pretty important. I'd better head out at once."

Raising his fingers to his lips, Avon gave a shrill whistle. After a moment of silence, a neigh answered his call followed by a large bay stallion.

"Errol," Avon smirked, "we're going on a road trip!"

The Elf mounted his horse, who reared in excitement before taking off.

"Woah! Slow down you mule! I haven't even told you where we're going yet!"

As the archer and his steed disappeared into the forest, the courier watched in disbelief.



"Excuse me," the man tapped the blacksmith's shoulder, "excuse me sir, could you help me find someone?"

"Does it look like I have time to help you," the man scowled, "I've got all this steele to forge before sundown."

"If you could just point me in the right direction-"

"Certainly! The door is that way! Now, unless you're going to buy something, I would suggest you'd leave my shop."

Not wanting to anger the Nord any longer the courier rushed out into the street, nearly knocking a load of chopped logs from a Wood Elf with silvery hair.

"Hey! Watch it!"

"Sorry," he suddenly brightened up, "could you help me find someone?"

"Depends," he scowled, "who is it and what's he done?"

"I'm looking for an Orc named Kashna. I was told he'd be here."

The Wood Elf suddenly glared, "What do you want with Kashna? You another bounty hunter for Ulfric?"

"What? No, I have-"

"Look, just leave Kashna alone," the Elf yelled, "he's not harming anyone!"

"Faendal," the pair turned towards a voice as low as the ocean's bottom, "calm yourself."

Turning, the courier nearly feinted. The Orc was nearly ten feet tall, heavily built, and covered in Steele Nordic Armor. What little dreads he had were covered by a Novice Hood. On his back was a Steele great sword, which seemed recently sharpened.

"You there," the smaller man jumped in surprise, despite the fact that the Orc was not hostile in any way, "what is it you want?"

"P-Pardon me sir. I have a letter for Kashna."

"See Faendal," the Orc gave a small smile, "we must not accuse those we do not know. I am Kashna. Who is this letter from?"

"The Greybeards, Master Kashna," the courier began to relax, holding the piece of paper out for him, "here."

"Would you mind reading it to me," he asked politely, "my eyesight has never been good."

Faendal smirked, "You mean nonexistent?"

Confused, the man gazed up at the Orc. He nearly gasped in surprise; the Orc's eyes were a misty white, the brown barely visible.

"Oh! Forgive me, Master Kashna," he hastily opened the letter, "Kashna the Blind, You have been summoned to High Hrothgar. More details will be given upon your arrival. Your presence is desired at once, so do not delay. Signed Argneir, Speaker for The Greybeards."

"Greybeards," the Wood Elf raised his eyebrows, "perhaps I should come along?"

"No, my friend," he said, smiling, "I need you here. And I'm sure Camilla would enjoy it too."

The Wood Elf blushed, grateful that his friend was blind, "I'll...go saddle Malakath."

"I'd be grateful," Kashna gazed upwards, "I leave at once!"

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