The Elder Scrolls: Voice of the Sky (IC)

[NikkiNoNo]

Merilis stood alongside her comrades in arms, she was apart of what Arbus called the "Misfits" it was an odd name, but befitting name for a group such as themselves. Her eyes locked onto Helgen in the distance. The Nord could only guess what bloody battle could be going on down there. The dark haired Nord looked to the man as they met each other's gaze. She sometimes wondered why she was put into this group. They were different from her, not that she was like some of the other stubborn Nords who believed that Skyrim was only a place for the Nords, she believed that each culture of Tamriel was powerful, and could prove quite useful. It was the fact that she greatly disliked working with others. Call it her stubbornness, she just hated working with others, especially those who couldn't surpass her level. But she had to prove herself like the others. Patience.
As Arbus pointed her finger toward Helgen her attention returned to the city, her eyes closing as she caught the threatening cries of the dragon in the distance. By the Nine, who knows what could be going on down there, a battle against a dragon. She had all but thought that the dragons were gone, and whatever was left, were slaves to man and beast alike. To have one attacking after 5 years since Alduin's death did not set well with the Nord. As Ardus spoke the only word that caught her attention immediately was The Companions. Her eyes flashed open and turned to slits, the light blue color becoming darker in shade. The anger that filled her heart at the name of that guild was too much for her to keep a straight face. The expression of disgust and anger contorting her beauty. For a split second Merilis had the urge to walk away, to leave this mission to the others and return back into the cave, where her bed awaited her return. But she would not do such a thing. Down there blood was being spilled and, of course, she would not pass up the opportunity to kill a living dragon. When would their be such an opportunity?
Their mission seemed simple enough, kill the dragon, get the information and bring a bone as proof of their act, though it did have it's complications. She was not going to be big-headed and say she could take down a dragon with an arrow to the knee. The Nord looked to the others, were they ready or were they shitting in their armor like many who were told they were in for the fight of their lives against a dragon? Looking back to Arbus she was filled with more courage and excitement as he spoke:

"There’s a fight to be won, and glory to be had, go take it!"

Merilis let out her own battle cry, loud and booming through out the mountain range. "For Skyrim!"

[Rtron]

Gorzath glanced at their Nordic commander. You know what? I preferred wandering. Oh well. There's a dragon to be slain! Gorzath gave a feral grin at Killian. "Come on Killian. We've a dragon to slay! It also appears that there is several people climbing it's back. Best not let them take all the fun." With that, Gorzath summoned a horse Familiar. Leaping aboard, he rode off preparing an ice spike spell to fire at the dragon when in range. After a few minutes of riding, Gorzath leapt off the horse in range of Helgens gates and dispelled it. Gorzath walked in, looking around. There was obviously the dragon, with several people on it. One appeared to be a Brenton riding it. There was an orc with her arm covered in blood, holding on to the dragons face next to a punctured eye.

Stupid, effective, and brutal. Interesting. Gorzath thought as he took cover in a nearby ruined building. There was a Khajiit trying to help a Dunmer onto the back of the Dragon as well. The beast was thrashing about it's tail knocking pieces out of nearby buildings. Gorzath decided it was time to leave the building as the tail was getting a little to close for his taste. He ran out of the building and into another. Just as the dragons tail slammed into where he had been hiding, leveling the places. "Well. That was fortunate." Gorzath muttered as he turned around to view his new hiding place. And saw that there was two companions, and a Argonian. The companions looked ready to gut him. "Now calm down, I'm not here to do combat with you. Simply the dragon."

Gorzath said holding his hands up. When the gave no response, or made an attempt to gut him, Gorzath turned his attention back to the dragon. It was near a two story Inn levitating close by it as the it attempted to dislodge the orc on it's face. Gorzath had an idea. Speaking of stupid... Gorzath ran to the side of the inn, away from the dragon and it's thrashing. He noticed a window and wasted no time smashing it with his gauntlet covered fist. Crawling through, he jogged up to the second floor which had a large hole knocked in it. Well. Hole was an understatement. It was more like the entire wall was gone. The dragon was thrashing directly in front of it. "Damn. Time to get to the roof." Gorzath muttered.

He dragged a table over, and leapt upon it, then leapt upon the roof. Now the Dragon was a few feet beneath him. "Here goes nothing..." With that, Gorzath leapt off the roof and landed on the dragon with an 'OOF'. He began sliding off and quickly fired off an ice spike, and grabbed the resulting hand hold, then drove his sword in to proved another. "Right. Now. Do I kill the crazy bitch riding the dragon or the dragon.." Gorzath mused calmly as he thrashed about on the beast. "Alright, killing it's rider it is." Gorzath began to climb the dragon, using the spike and sword to climb and secure his place if the thrashing got to bad, trying to get to the ridge of spikes on it's back.

[WittyReference]

Cub stood alongside the others as Arbus spoke, though in his head, he was miles away. Back in Windhelm, back in the dungeon...

Footsteps coming down the stairs, Shavie pushing him into a cell, then...then what? What had happened?

Staring to the faraway battle, scenes flashed before the young Cub's eyes. The dark of the cell, the footsteps growing louder then, what? What happened?! Shavie's voice, wait, yes, Shavie's voice then the footsteps stopped. Some arguing, th-they were yelling. They were yelling at Shavie and Cub just...

"Hid." The word fell heavy from the Orc's lips as he remained frozen, the others long since running headlong into battle. Turning to Arbus, Cub spoke frantically. "I hid. I hid. Again. They needed me, th-they helped me. I hid and then-an-an then I ran. I left them! Arb-sus, I left them!" Tears streaming from the Orc's eyes chilled bitter in the icy weather as his voice grew ever louder, near shouting at the old Nord before him.

Arbus had found Cub while scouting the surrounding areas, a crumpled mess of armour shivering in a snow bank and clinging to an imposing ebony warhammer. Surrounded by a pack of wolves, all crushed beneath the ebony weight, the man was surprised when he found no mortal wounds, simply an Orc shivering speechlessly in the wild. It had been three days since and Cub spoke not a word, silently but dutifully doing as the Nord instructed. Sharpening weapons, slaying vermin, anything that needed doing, Cub obliged without emotion.

Shocked at the sudden outburst of the formerly stoic Orc, Arbus stood before him, for the first time, examining the Orc. His eyes, though welling with tears, were bright, child-like even... This quality was only cemented by the fact the fearsome Orc now stood before him blubbering in the cold.

"I-I don't, I'm sorry Arb-sus" The Orc sniffled. "I'm sorry, I'll go kill your dragon now, okay? I'm brave, okay?" Eyes welling again, Cub's voice cracked and threatened to give way to another fit of tears before the Orc set off towards the fight.

[Voltin]

Killian stood there sneer on his lip. This trial Arbus had set them out on was a waste of his time. The creature appeared to be already half dead by the time they had happened upon it, so what was the point? There was no glory to be had in killing something that was already so close to death. By Arkay, he had killed a vampire that had been terrorizing that one one small town! What was it called though, Rorysteed? It didn't matter, it was just one small settlement, but that did not mean that people shouldn't know about it damnit!

Arbus finished his speech, slamming the butt of his axe down on a rock which let out a thunderous echo. Impressive, but he could do better. The nord woman, Meril he thought her name was, let out a cry. Huh, a patriot. As if this country needed another one of those! Killian sighed into the palm of his hand, he was probably dealing with amateurs that had never seen a real day of battle in their lives. "Come on Killian. We've a dragon to slay! It also appears that there is several people climbing it's back. Best not let them take all the fun." The breton couldn't understand this orc. They traveled around for a few seasons yes, but that didn't mean they were "friends" by any means. The only reason that he did it was as a favor for the guy's mentor anyways. The only benefit Killian could see to having the green-skin around was that he was the could handle only one he knew there that could handle himself in a fight. It was a damn shame that the orc couldn't make that horse of his explode though. Gorzath rushed off.

The next to speak, or rather blubber, was the other orc. How many green-skins did they actually need here? Really though, it wasn't a big deal about what he was whining about; this world was all about survival of the fittest really, so all the crying was pointless, he did what he had to to survive. The orc walked off as well, ebony maul in hand. Seeing as how everyone was leaving, he figured he could uncross his hand and actually do something. He went to the entrance of the cave, which was in sight of the dragon, positioned his hands, the left in front of the right, and the familiar rush of energy came forward. A ghostly bow appeared in his hand, from which he shot a single arrow. He didn't even check what it hit, probably one of the people fighting the scaly beast, and instead refocused his attention to the Khajiit who had, up til this point, been silent. She by far had the most amount of respect from him because of this. The knight hollered to her. "Come now Kitten, we have a dragon to slay." With that he walked off so that he could possibly get a better shot with his weapon.

[Sanquin]

Shouting, and more shouting. And even more shouting after that! Great, what was the group up to this time? The 'Misfits' they called themselves. A rag tag group of...well, adventurers was maybe a good description? And Quilh had joined them. Why, she didn't remember any more. But she was there, with them, in some kind of cave near Helgen. The shouting started to really bother her though. The woman sighed, slowly getting up from her seated position against the wall. A bottle of black liquid in one hand, a small piece of bread in the other. Since the group had stopped for a bit she had decided to take a break, have a drink, and fill her stomach a little. She had actually fallen half-asleep during that time. All the shouting had woken her up again though. Quilh made her way to the exit of the cave, where only two of the group remained at the moment. The rest had charged ahead to fight...wait...was that what she thought it was? Her hazy vision had a hard time making the monster out properly, but that definitely looked like a dragon! "Dat'sh...one big lizzzard..." She muttered as she started walking next to a man. Killian was his name. Some Khajiit was following him as well, the feline's name eluding Quilh at the moment. "Doubd punsshing id againsch idsh big toe wwould help." Quilh slurred, wondering how she'd ever be able to fight against such a big creature. Maybe sticking some pointy sticks into it would have some effect...

The three of them were getting close now though. So the drunk took another swig of her bottle and put it away, then scoffed down the last of her bread. She rubbed the back of her head as her eyes scanned the area for anything useful to work with. No swords or spears that happened to be laying around...no broken planks either at the moment. Not anything visible from this distance at least. So it was time to start looking around for something inside of the buildings she could enter. "Woa!" Quilh exclaimed as her attention was suddenly brought back to the airborne dragon. It had decided to try and torch her and anyone close to her. Luckily she was good at evading, and had managed to jump aside. "Ugh...tryin' da roasshd me eh? I'll show ya..." She muttered, entering the first building that looked like it could have something useful inside of it.

And indeed, Quilh had hit the jackpot. It was a general store of some kind. It didn't have anything truly good, but it had enough for her. A bundle of 3 spears, to be exact. Perfect for throwing. And hopefully they would be able to do some damage as well. However that's when she also noticed something...more fun. A large oil canister, probably to fill oil lamps with. Using her knowledge of alchemy, and thus of flasks and the like, she would be able to quickly put together a makeshift firebomb. Just have the oil and a fire separated in a glass bottle, and smash it against the dragon. Chuckling softly Quilh quickly got to work, muttering 'fight fire whid fire...' as she did.

[Silver Fox]

UPDATE

The young Khajiit girl who was currently residing in the cave, watched the Nord explain about the dragon not to far and was fighting wih people known as Companions. This confused her a little since she wasn't too experienced with such a term. Honestly she wasn't sure about everything since leaving the mountain and being imprisoned before following this little group. There were times she wanted to badger her poor companions with questions, ask what it was like living out here but she thought it was best to keep her muzzle shut. Her long ears twitched and pinned back as the Nord wanted her to bring back a dragon bone.

What for? It had done nothing to her. Were all dragons bad? Did they really have to freak out and kill them whenever they saw one? Her innocent soul didn't understand, sure she killed rabbits or deer out for survival, but she always gave words of thanks to them for feeding her hungry belly. A dragon could certainly feed a army, but weren't they wise creatures? And didn't everyone attack them for sport or fear?

Kyra was unsure as her blue eyes darted to the dragon who was climbing up. Well, they did look like they needed some help, even if she had no idea how to handle such a beast. Slowly she went out of the cave, her fluffy white fur standing on end, her slender body tense as she drew her bow and arrow. Her eyes scanning the others curiously to see what they were doing.

(Hope its better)

[Dervish]

The big, simple orc approached, tearfully sobbing about how he knew the people the Companions were sent to bring in, and how he had abandoned them. It was a surprising revelation, to say the least, but Arbus had somewhat of a soft spot for the orc, who despite his great size and strength seemed like a gentle-souled child. The Nord almost felt bad about sending him out to fight the dovah. He recalled finding the orc freezing in the snow, a wreck that had seemed to have given up on himself. This fight was a chance for the boy to regain his sense of worth and prove his strength. He had not spoken, but performed his duties without complaint and with competence that had made the boy endearing. Although this was the first time Arbus had heard Cub speak, it didn’t surprise him.

The Nord put a large, meaty hand on Cub’s shoulder, giving him a reassuring look. “Steel yourself, brother. Fate has given you a second chance to make amends with your former companions, and they need you now. Fight with honour, and may Talos guide you.” He smiled warmly at Cub saying he would be brave. Not just anyone would willingly fight a dragon, although Arbus had helped slay his fair share years ago, once alongside the Dovahkiin. The Skyrim orcs had proven time and time again to have been fierce, independent, and fearless in the face of danger. Cub’s people were worthy of respect and admiration.

The drunken Nord woman had stumbled from whatever hole she had fallen into in her last stupor, causing Arbus to inwardly groan. Now there was a sad example of his people, and Quilh made no apologies for how utterly useless she had been. Somehow, she always seemed to be intoxicated, even when the crews in charge of rationing the foot were instructed to keep the alcohol locked up from her. He scowled slightly as she walked past, slurring about the dragon as she went. “You’re going to fight?” he asked, incredulously. Without a response, the woman stumbled out of the cave and towards Helgen, and likely death. Arbus clung to his axe. He wouldn’t miss that one.
---
The cross-breed girl’s hand shot out and grabbed Marassa’s ankle and Wysteria used the khajiit warrior to climb to a better position, switching over to the opposite side of the dragon’s spine. Now that her temporary comrade in arms wasn’t about to plummet to her death, Marassa cut herself free of her snare and attempted to proceed up to the still-oblivious Praetorian. It was difficult moving on the back of a constantly moving and shifting dragon, but at least it’s back provided plenty of grips. There were worse things in the wild to try to stay mounted on, in any case.
Suddenly, a blur from her side caught her attention as the dragon passed by a building and a large, heavily armoured figure crashed onto the dragon’s back, causing it to roar in protest. Despite the heavy orcish armour, he appeared light on his feet. Perhaps he used the same feather trick as Marassa, the khajiit thought, pulling herself up into a crouched position. She didn’t trust this stranger, and already he was putting her, Wysteria, and Urzoth in peril. He begun to slip, driving a summoned ice-spike and his sword into the dragon’s back to keep him from slipping. The dragon twitched violently at that and its flight was more uneven. Marassa struggled to maintain her grip. The stupid orc was clumbsly clawing his way to the Praetorian! Did he not know what he was up against? “Khajiit thinks this one is a fool…” Marassa spat, reverting to her native speech patterns. It was a conscious effort to linguistically speak in a way that was common in Tamrielic tongues, and it was something that she learned was useful in having people think of you more than some thief or uncultured beast, as her people often were viewed as by the ‘civilized’ races of Tamriel. She suspected Zaveed didn’t even have to think about it, he’d been detached from their culture for so long.

The Breton Praetorian turned suddenly, lithely springing from her mount and standing in a crouched position, balancing without handholds on the dragon’s back. She was alerted to the intruders when something heavy crashed on the dragon’s back. What she wasn’t expecting was a khajiit and a dunmer-girl with Redguard features to be on board, as well. “I will not tolerate your audacity, you fools!” she snarled, approaching with one hand shrouded in a thick layer of frost and the other arcs of electricity. She wouldn’t need to kill the boarders if she could freeze their limbs and paralyze their nervous systems. The fall would do the rest. Her hands shot out, a deadly combination of frost and electricity launching towards Gorzath, given his proximity to her.
Her attack was short-lived as the mighty wing was awash in intense burning flames from a makeshift incendiary bomb that caused the Praetorian to step back and cover her eyes from the intense flames, Marassa used her arm to cover her own eyes and to shield herself from the licking flames. Beynpahlok screamed, barely avoiding a building only to crash into Helgen’s outer wall, shattering several meters of brick as the heavy creature barreled through it and crashed into the snow, dislodging all of its riders. The Praetorian nimbly was on her feet and moving away from the dragon, lest it attack her in its rage. She immediately cast several runes of the three destruction schools in the snow around her, both of her hands covered in frost and electricity once more. She was outnumbered, but that didn’t matter. She simply had to let the enemy come to her.

Marassa took the landing roughly, being tossed from the dragon when it hit the wall and landing hard on the ground on her back, which had her terrified she broke her back. While her entire body ached, the heavy, thick snow managed to cushion her fall enough to stun her. Regardless, she cast a healing spell on herself as she tried to stand, preparing to pull her sword from her scabbard on her back, her dagger lost in the fall. She didn’t have time to react to the dragon’s violently swinging tail, which struck her hard in the chest and send the khajiit flying into the wall, striking the stones violently, causing everything to go black as she fell to the ground, unconscious.

“Wyst!” Semedar cried, finally catching up to the scene. The whole incident happened not far from where she was, and she rushed towards Wyst and Urzoth, who both appeared to be largely okay if a little beat up. There was another orc man nearby she didn’t recognize, but it was plain he wasn’t with the dragon. “Zaveed sends his regards.” Semedar said, as she tossed Wysteria the bundle of her confiscated scimitars and drew a pair of her throwing daggers, facing off with the Praetorian. The dragon, for its part, clumbsily climbed over the wall to get away from his assailants and to try to recover himself somewhat. Marassa would have made a nice meal, had he been able to see her. However, it was a missed opportunity with the missing eye. What he did see, however, was an unarmed Nord woman holding a bundle of spears. Instinctively, he knew that was the one who threw the firebomb that had scorched his wing. The dragon was blind with pain and fury, no longer thinking rationally and instead working off of pure, uncontained fury and instinct. He faced down the woman, and the dragon’s terrible maw opened. “FO!” sending a terrible, deadly frost jet towards the Nord.

Zaveed was entirely out of arrows and had his bow slung over his shoulder, leaving the courtyard as the dragon had started to climb the wall. There was no way to know what was happening with the others, but he did not intend to be in that thing’s way while it was pissed off and in close quarters. He waited, out of sight of the gate, catching his breath. A strong female voice carried across the wind, "For Skyrim!" she called, the mountains amplifying her voice.
“Who in Oblivion is that?” he said, uncomfortable with how this situation was developing, but hopeful for help. At least the werewolves weren’t a threat at the moment. He looked around, trying to see where the sound was coming from and before long, a Nord warrior woman appeared with companions in tow, including a fellow khajiit, a Breton who stunk of mage, and a very familiar orc.

“CUB?!” Zaveed exclaimed, dumbfounded.

[Draexzhan]

Az-nari grinned when he saw the dragon fall. These... These are comerades I can rely on!

But so much was troubling him. Those damn Companions... What are they doing here? And the dragon. It had a rider. There's just no way that could be possible. Dragons were proud creatures. They'd rather die than serve humans. In just about every song he knew about dragons, such pride was made clear. Like how Alduin's Wrath told the story of why the World-Eater was such a tyrant: It all stemmed from his pride. Sure, sometimes exceptions are made, like when the Dovahkiin trapped the mighty Odahviing. But that was the dragonborn. What did the empire do to these dragons to make them mere tools?

Now able to stand up without too much pain, Az-nari left the confines of his temporary shelter, and looked around until he saw the Praetorian. Kill the head and the body dies. He thought to himself. Drawing Lullaby and Cadenza, he briskly approached the Praetorian from the side, while she was focusing her attention on the others. His mind entered a deep state of calm as it drifted off into another mental melody, played by a flute gentler than the breeze. All outside distractions and thoughts scurried out of his head as he covered the remaining distance to the Praetorian. In a single, graceful movement, but with deadly speed and power, he lunged forward and brought Lullaby downward in a diagonal slash, aiming at the back of the Praetorian's neck, where it met the skull. Should the Praetorian notice him in time, he was prepared to gut her with Cadenza.

[Rtron]

Gorzath cursed as he saw the woman preparing to cast frost and lightning. "Great, just GREAT. First time I fight a dragon, and I either get myself electrocuted, frozen, or fall to my death." He muttered. An ethereal arrow suddenly hit his shield. "Dammit Killian!" Then, there was a massive explosion, the dragon crashed into a wall, and Gorzath himself was thrown into the same wall. Luckily, it wasn't that far away, so the actual damage was minimal. He slid down and landed in a snow drift. His entire body hurt. As he got up, he groaned. After some careful probing, he decided nothing was broken. Then, a Khajiit flew into the wall next to him, unconscious. Gorzath was confused for a second, then he remembered the dragon. Mainly because he was shouting frost at a Nord. Gorzath picked up the Khajiit and began to the hut in which he had seen the Argonian and two companions. As he was doing so, he fired off two quick fire bolts. One at the Praetorian, the other at the dragons good eye. In doing so he saw an Argonian, bellowing something about the people of Tamriel,Brainwashing, and dragons as tools. Gorzath shook his head, dragging the Khajiit towards the hut. This should be an interesting aftermath...

[Sanquin]

Quilh was quick to put the oil in a bottle. And the fire wasn't too hard to do either. A direct flame would burn up the oxygen too fast, but a small red hot burning ember was all she needed after all. Once the concoction was done the woman stumbled outside again, almost dropping the bottle on accident as she went. However what happened next would paint an entirely different picture of the seeming stupid drunk. The woman threw the bottle, it flying through the air directly to one of the dragon's wings, and hit it's mark perfectly. Had someone given her a bow and arrow she might have missed, but bottles were easy to toss from her point of view. The dragon was visibly affected by the fire, and started to crash out of the air and into a wall. Good, it was a lot easier to fight something when you had both feet on the ground. As long as you avoided the razor sharp teeth the size of small daggers that is...

Quilh once again started to move, and once again in the direction of the dragon. It had flown away a little before hitting the wall, so she had to catch up again. However things went a little bit different than planned. As the dragon seemed to have the exact same idea, and was now coming for her! Quilh, totally fearless from her drunken stupor, grinned and grabbed one of her spears. But she was too late, as the dragon attacked first. A jet of frost came right at her. Quilh yelped, trying to dodge out of the way as best as possible. But still one of her lower legs was hit. She rolled a bit further and stood to her feet again, trying to maintain her balance on one foot. "Ow ow ow! Cooollldd!" She exclaimed, readying the spear once again and throwing it right at the dragon's face. It decided to bite her at that exact same time, devour her whole. Which resulted in the spear hitting the inside of the dragon's mouth, and getting stuck in there. Or...at least the iron spearhead did. The rest broke off once the giant beast clamped it's jaw shut and let out a loud groan of pain.