Bound in Factions

The Stormcloaks have defeated the Empire, Ulfric taking his place as the High King, Skyrim has never been the same. Chaos has abound. Racism, more war and more violence grip Skyrim to the point where it burns. Therefore the factions of Skyrim must bind together, to save what they have left of their precious home land. But dispute between the factions is sure to break out, one way or another.


4. Bear Hunting

The night was as deep a black as coal freshly mined from the earth down below, the heavy air being like freezing honey to breath. Yelor and the Listener shuffled up onto a high rock, over looking a path that they knew a Stormcloak patrol would pass through eventually. The green lights in the sky flickered and weaved up above, the moon shining a bright white. The trees stood still for the wind stayed dormant and there was not a whisper to be heard, but only a bright orange light coming from the corner.

"Be ready." she said faintly, pulling up her face mask and hood. Yelor did the same, also drawing out his bow. The patrol walked on ward, one of the soldiers holding a torch in his hand up high, conversing with his comrade.

"Ellar, I'm telling you. I heard it. Howling. Those tales about werewolves are true!" he asserted. 

"Please. Don't go spreading rumours again Harfnar." she replied back to him, a rather unamused tone. 

"Hmph... Well I'll be the one laughing when a werewolf comes and rips off your head." he chuckled. The patrol kept walking, the damp light of the torch help by Harfnar barely showing the path infront of them. A small sound like paper ripping in two faint wafted through the air, and Harfnar turned around. Ellar had disappeared. "Hey! Stop! Stop!" 
The patrol came to a halt, looking back at Harfnar suspiciously. 

"What now Harfnar?" the officer growled. 

"Ellar... she's-she's gone." 
The patrol unsheathed their weapons, senses on alert. There came another slitting sound from behind them. They turned and another Stormcloak soldier had vanished. The Stormcloaks said nothing more as fear began to surge through their bodies. They stood back to back in a circle, listening, watching, waiting. 

All that could be heard was the creatures of the night, singing their songs and the torch flickering. 

"Sir," one of the soldiers whispered, "perhaps we should keep moving."

"No! We're Nords, we do not run from cowards who won't show their faces..." he growled. "Come out and show yourselves bastards!"
From out of the blue, Ellar's body fell in front of them, her masked helmet still on, but with blood pouring out from underneath it. The morale of the patrol began to stoop further and further, with their confidence wavering at the sight of their dead comrade. Whilst the soldiers looked ready to rout, the officer smiled, his iron warhammer clenched in his hands. 
"You think that will scare me! HA!" he stepped forward, shouting at the night. "I was there at Solitude! I was there at every battle during the war against the Empire! I am not afraid! I am a true son of Skyrim!" 
He soon turned around to now see his whole patrol gone, just a torch on the floor, still alight. He looked closer at the torch, a red mark on the handle. Closer examination, showed a red hand print, wrapped around the light wood. His arrogance soon wavered as the air became more quite in suspense. 

He backed up against a rock, trying to reduce his vision to only 180°. 

"You... you don't scare me, assassins! You're foolish cowards who like to cower in the shadows! But I am not afraid, I am not afraid!" he roared, anger pained on his face. The paint then soon washed away, as the Listener popped her face out infront of him, upside down.

"Peek-a-boo!" she giggled. She slammed The Blade of Woe square into the officer's forehead, his skull cracking open. His face went blank, and he dropped to the floor face first, his warhammer falling with him in loyalty. The dagger went further into his head as he hit the floor, the very tip peeking out the back of his head. Yelor dropped down next to her, squinting at the scene. 


"Oh come on, you milk-drinker." she said as she lifted up the corpse's head to grab the hilt of her dagger. She yanked it out with a jolt and she smiled as she gazed at the dripping blade. "See that?" she pointed, "Dark red blood. He was scared the whole time." 
Yelor looked over her shoulder. 

"You can tell that from the colour of his blood?" he asked. 

"No." she snorted, putting the dagger back at her hip. "C'mon. Let's head back to the sanctuary." she walked off, calmly. Yelor followed her, and they both vanished, without effort, into the dark.

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