Dovakiin

Dragonborn, Dragonborn by his honor is sworn To keep evil forever at bay! And the fiercest foes rout when they hear triumph's shout, Dragonborn, for your blessing we pray!

[mary-stuart-odonnell-archive]

She stumbles as he yanks her towards the keep, but picks up pace and burts through the doors one step-head!

“Jarl Haldor!” Moria doesn’t hear the second half of  what the stormcloak says. 

Oh thank TALOS the king’s alive! 

“Legends don’t burn down villages.” His voice is commanding, cutting through the chaos.  “We need to move. NOW!”

Moria is already halfway up the steps dragging the fool behind her by the time the stormcloak is beconing others to follow.

Suddenly the wall EXPLODES! Stone bursting out in all directions as the  deafening ROAR of the dragon  drowns out the screams from below.

In one quick motion Moria spin around, GRABS the fool’s shoulder, and PINS him against the wall, SHIELDING him from the flying debris and raging FIRES.

And then the moment it’s passed, she’s scrambling for the dragon-made hole in the keep. There has to be a way out.

There HAS  to be a way OUT!

She sees it!

“JUMP!” The upper floor of a half-burned house is just a dangerous leap away. 

She shoves at his back and shouts in frantic desperation over the noise, “WE HAVE TO JUMP!”

[dxvakiin]

His ears are RINGING with the roar of the dragon, with the sounds of STEEL clashing on STEEL. His body SINGING with confusion and adrenaline and PAIN, wrists BURNING from the shackles and lungs GASPING for air from the smoke.

He wastes NO time in hurrying up the steps-- but then there’s an EXPLOSION, and she’s got him back up against the wall as FIRE BURSTS through the gaping HOLE in the wall. It SINGES his hair, burns the left side of his face, searing white hot.

Then the dragon’s gone, flown off somewhere, and she’s pushing him to the opening. There’s the destroyed roof of an inn on the other side, in flames-- but it’s their only way out.

Jump! We have to jump!

He looks at her, looks at the jump they have to make, and while HE knows HE’S strong enough, large enough to make the jump, he knows SHE isn’t. He’s grown up jumping rooftops, down mountainsides, chasing thieves,  running from guards, hunting deer in the forests of Falkreath. He knows what he’s doing-- but her?

In seconds, he grabs her by the waist and hauls her to edge and THROWS her in the air toward the inn’s floor. And then he pushes off and JUMPS, the air whizzing through his ears, his heart pounding in his chest. He hits the floor and breaks his fall, rolling forward, grunting. 

Some bruising, nothing more-- he’ll be fine. His arm shoots out and he GRABS for the redhead and hauls her to her feet, keeps running. 

[mary-stuart-odonnell-archive]

He head is on the block, the scent of it’s first victim’s blood filling her nose as the priest recites prayers to the gods she does not worship. And then the axe raises. Moria closes her eyes, waiting. Waiting-

The earth SHAKES and her eyes snap open as defaning THUNDER CRASHES and RUMBLES through the air! No- it is not thunder

Into her vision, a creature of nightmare and legend  appears as the executioner stumbles and falls. 

And suddenly a survival instinct takes over. In the face of a monster of myth, in the midst of sudden panic and destruction, her focus hones in on the executioner’s axe. Abandoned.

She throws herself forward and rolls over. There is fire and smoke! The roar of the beast and the screams of man. She has to free her hands. She HAS to free her hands! 

Desperately she runs the rope over the blade again and again, feeling it nick her wrists a few times. She’s almost there… almost free…

The rope CUTS! Moria ROLLS to the side just as a flying stone SLAMS into the ground where she lay. Scrambling to her feet, taking the axe with her as she goes, she RUNS to the nearest person in her line of sight.

The fatalistic fool.

She GRABS his arm and shoves him around so she can get at his back. His ropes are short work. The moment they fall, she’s pulls him to the ground.

“Slim chances!” She shouts over the chaos.

[dxvakiin]

Highest pandemonium explodes around his ears as the dragon swarms up into the air. There’s a  flurry of arrows from Imperial bows blacken the sky. Halbjorn ducks under cover before they start coming back down and one hits him in the throat. His mouth is filled with smoke, it burns his EYES-- and then he feels someone GRAB at him and suddenly his hands are FREE and he turns-- turns to punch--

and stops.

It’s that damned redhead from Cyrodill.

Slim chances! she shouts--

Halbjorn makes an obscene gesture with his right hand. 

The dragon swoops above them and he hears a SHOUT from a voice he recognizes: the other stormcloak prisoner.

“Into the keep! Let’s go! The gods won’t give us another chance!” 

He snatches at the girl’s hand and runs toward the tower, and the shadow on the ground LOOMS after them.

[mary-stuart-odonnell-archive]

Moria is scrambling for a plan. A panic is threatening  to rise within her and she desperately quells it. And then there is the anger. 

“I said we were wasting TIME. Wasting time because  the MOMENT we passed through those GATES even our slim chances of survival vanished!”

“So if you and this USELESS group of excueses for Nords would have just-”

“Wait. You there.”

Moria whips around to find the guard (the one with the list) looking right at HER. 

 “Step forward.”

Ladies first.

She gives the fatalist fool one last glare, then steps forward, DEFIANCE in her steel blue eyes. No. She will not grant them her fear. 

“Who… are you?”

“Bergritte,” she lies. It is the first name she thinks of besides her own. 

He gives her a long look, and then there is a flicker of something in his eyes that she could almost take for pity. “You picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, kinsman.”

He voices what she’s been thinking since this  whole ordeal STARTED.

“Captain. What should we do? She’s not on the list.” For a moment, there is a glimmer of hope…

“Forget the list,” the captain replies harshly. “She goes to the block.”

And that hope is gone. Those Imperial BASTARDS. She bitterly wonders how many other innocents have been wrongly executed without trial under their rule…

“By your orders, Captain. Follow the Captain, prisoner.” 

And she does. Step by step, she approaches the block. Each step closer to her death. Praying to Talos for a  miracle…

[dxvakiin]

Halbjorn waits. He always does, waits as the headsman raises his axe and waits with baited breath for it to FALL. And then there’s a sound... a sound sort of like thunder that calls on the wind over their heads.

The captain looks up to the cloud-streaked sky. “What was that?”

The headsman, too, has paused. But then it’s General Tullius who speaks: “It’s nothing.” he growls, “Carry on!”

“Yes! General Tullius!” 

The axe raises again, Halbjorn holds his breath. 

And then he hears the thunder again, the thunder that sounds like a roar-- and then there’s a shadow that passes over the sun, black WINGS that FILL up the sky, a tail, smoldering red eyes, a shape swooping down in a gust of air onto the tower above their heads. It drops like a COMET, and there’s a THUNDERCLAP that rips apart the sky, a burst of light and FLAME and FIRE, SMOKE fills the air. 

“What in Oblivion is THAT?” 

“Sentries, what do you see?”

The black wings slam up into the air again, swarm into the sky--

“--It’s in the clouds!”

Another roar, and the creature comes to roost on the tower. It looms above them, scale-sharpened sides GLISTENING in the sunlight, ebony, bigger than a house-- 

“DRAGON!” 

[mary-stuart-odonnell-archive]

“So you suggest we just… GIVE UP. Yes, I’d  like my head chopped off today. How about you? Oh yes! Sounds lovely. Thank you. A  vacation to Sovngarde is in MY travel plans, how about yours?”

She looks from this hopeless realist to the High King.  “We can’t AFFORD to just GIVE UP!” Back to the pessimistic one. “The chances may be slim, but they are still chances. Even YOU must agree: likely death is preferable to certain death!”

[dxvakiin]

Halbjorn is about to respond when the guard cuts in for him:

“Shut UP back there!” 

They pass under the gates of Helgen and drive through the city. Townspeople wander out, watching the caravan as they go. And then he can see it-- the block, waiting for them. 

“General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!” 

The general starts after them. The cart rolls to a stop, and a captain stands in front of it with a list. The empire loves  their damned LISTS. 

“Step forward when we call your name, one at a time!” --and the first name is called, Lokir of Rorikstead. Halbjorn has been to Rorikstead, once or twice, it’s a nice little hamlet, he supposes. Not that it matters, beings how he’s never going to see it again.

Lokir steps off the cart shouting protests: “You can’t do this! I’m not a rebel!” 

And then, when nobody seems to be listening, a sudden sort of reckless desperation overtakes the horsethief and he starts to  run. 

Within seconds an arrow whizzes after him and lodges in his back.

The captain turns back to the group. “Anyone else feel like running?”

Halbjorn looks at the redhead, nods toward the road. “Ladies first.”

[mary-stuart-odonnell-archive]

When Moria set out for her homeland, she’d considered the risk of being CAUGHT, and  even come up with some back up plans in case it happened. But her plans failing and ending up bound, disarmed, on the way to certain death… now THAT she hadn’t counted on. 

Her brothers in chains are fatalistic. As if  resigned to death. And the one whose mouth is bond more tightly then his hands… High King Haldor HIMSELF. 

“Sovngarde will have to wait a bit longer,” she cuts in between their pessimistic musings. “But WE can’t be wasting our time with idle chatter. There are FIVE of us! Now if we think quick and  think together we may actually escape with our heads still attached to our bodies.”

[dxvakiin]

When the girl speaks, Halbjorn gives her a CUTTING look. He doesn’t want to  die any more than she does-- but Helgen’s walls are looming and he knows this area better than he knows the back of his hand.

“This is imperial territory,” he hisses with a furtive glance at the cart driver. “Even if we all somehow managed to cut each other free... they’d be on us like skeevers on a corpse before you could say ‘For  Skyrim!’.” 

[dxvakiin]

Of course, OF COURSE the damn IMPERIALS had to be at the BORDER. Of ALL FUCKING TIMES. Here he is, just minding his own business, trying to get  to Hammerfell-- and now his life is OVER.

I don’t know where they’re taking us, but Sovngarde awaits~

Halbjorn is NOT ready to die. So he sits there, quietly, watching as the cart passes closer and closer to the gates of Helgen, waiting, watching for any possible way out. 

[starkmatriarch]

Catelyn wondered at that. A direwolf had not been seen south in the world in any memory of any living man, yet now six were here. Mayhaps there were other creatures of legend far larger. 

“A direwolf is a creature different from most animals, it is not as others; it is a creature of magic. An old magic long forgotten”

[dxvakiin]

“Magic?” Hjordis said, surprise lacing her features. “I thought Westeros had none.” Or so I’ve been told. 

The idea of it made her wary. She still, out of habit, checked the sky in case a dragon might swoop from it. But Hjordis had been led to believe that she was a long way from anywhere that dragons lived. If there was magic here, ancient magic, had the World Eater awakened the dragons here, too? She would like to think it was too far away. But then, everything was smaller from a dragon’s perspective.

Large wolves she could handle. “We have a similar creature where I’m from, though they’re smaller. Ice Wolves. I’ll admit, I’ve never  seen any natural creature as large as your direwolf.” A pause, “Save one.” 

But mammoths were hardly natural in her mind. Perhaps that was  because she’d grown up in the Rift. 

[starkmatriarch]

“Of a sort,” Catelyn replied simply, finding no fear in these creatures which had once been the thing of nightmarish tales woven by Old Nan to her children in the dark of night. “It is a direwolf”

[dxvakiin]

Direwolf. They didn’t have them in Skyrim. Hjordis’ eyes immediately light up at the idea of something entirely new to her.

“Is every animal bigger here? Or just those?”

[dxvakiin]

“...Was that a wolf?” 

If it is, it’s the biggest one she’s ever seen.

lady--catelyn-stark

[dxvakiin]

helenmxgnus

The Shout had boiled up from her lungs– Yol burning from her throat and out her mouth. It wasn’t seconds before her opponent was a screaming mass of fire– and another second before another shout– Fus pushed him back away from her far enough that she wouldn’t catch fire herself.

Hjordis limped up into a more upright position and wiped a small trickle of blood from her nose. When she turned to go, however– she was faced with  another person. Her fists curled and she could feel another defensive Fus beginning to curl in her diaphragm.  “I’d walk away, if I were you.”

[dxvakiin]

//I'm alive! Like for a starter!

[rubyredwisp]

Daenerys Targaryen vaulted onto the dragon’s back, seized the spear, and ripped it out. The point was half-melted, the iron red-hot, glowing. She flung it aside. Drogon twisted under her, his muscles rippling as he gathered his strength. The air was thick with sand. Dany could not see, she could not breathe, she could not think. The black wings cracked like thunder, and suddenly the scarlet sands were falling away beneath her.

[littleladyseraphine]

😂😂😂😂😂 If only I could play the guitar 🎸 #RagnarTheRed #Skyrim #Tumblr

[lifeinskyrim]

I may have to do this.

[beautifuldovahkiin]

[ofsnowdrops-blog1]

dxvakiin

[ofsnowdrops-blog1]

❝Wait, WAIT! You dropped this! ❞ She knows all too well that  they’re a traveler. & travelers can’t afford to lose things. The chain wrapped around her ankle tugs at her skin but she pays it no heed, calling out to the stranger.

[dxvakiin]

He turns in surprise, looking from the small stone amulet she’s holding out to him, to her face, then to the chain around her ankle. Halbjorn walks back toward her and takes it from her, fingers worrying over the small hammer, over the grooves he’s carved in it. It thrums in his hand, emitting a low-pitched whine until he places it back around his neck.

❝THANK YOU,❞ He replies, smiling, ❝ This is very important to me.❞

[sunfortune]

listen i know that character died but listen…….that character isnt dead

[rosawollschnecke-deactivated201]

Some pics from the whiterun hold