From Wood to Stone: Year 4E:30
In one of Valenwood's many canopy treehouses something unprecedented was taking place, a meeting between 2 Bosmer, and 3 Orsimer.
The alcove carved out of the still living tree; one of the massive ones that were scattered around Valenwood and made the cities of these tree folk, contained a rather modest and almost cozy living space, this was clearly the ‘lounge’ or living area, the area that the inhabitants discussed important matters or spent time to relax with a book or the family.
In this instance the latter was taking place.

“The era has been short lived- a mere 30 years and yet much has happened, grave are the omens for the future ahead of us all.” The words came from a gruff Orc, the chieftain of the the nearby Stronghold in the North North-East Of Valenwood- it was tremendously rare for the Chieftain ever to leave the stronghold, if matters were of import they would be discussed in the Chieftain's hut, but Wood Orcs were different than traditional
Orcs found in Orsinium, not by much, but enough for them to be a tad more lenient in matters such as this.

“I agree Muzgurn, that’s why we are here though. Orsinium lies in ruins; once again, but last year, our government here was overthrown.
The Bosmer have seldom ever agreed with the Dominion, not now and never have we done in the past.”
This time the male Bosmer spoke.
Galhiel; and his wife Belenilwen were blood-kin to the Orsimer here; it was no surprise due to the fact that they had been in contact for quite some time, the devout green pact Galhiel had performed various favours especially in the acquisition of pelts, being the carnivore and exceptional hunter that he was he came into a considerable amount of pelts that greatly benefited the Orcish stronghold during the winter; being on the fringe, the vast forest didn’t grant the usual insulation it gave to the rest of the populace.
After a few years of this and some other favours to the chief they granted him the Blood-kin status, his wife was extended the same after Galhiel and the chief became friends some time later in his life; a high tolerance to the ale those Orcs drink helped this along no doubt.

“Yeah well enough dawdling and pussyfooting, you know what me and my stronghold intend to do, we’ve been preparing and planning it for some years now. Orsinium needs it’s Orcs, and strong ones at that- that’s where we come in.” Muzgurn extended his arms out wide towards the two Orc’s flanking him; looking strong no doubt, but them sitting on the spindly carved and decorated wooden chairs made them far less intimidating; it was like a Troll that had a perm.
“Anyway..” Muzgurn lowered his arms and his bravado ended abruptly, he was deadly serious now.
“We know that you don’t want to stay under the boot of those arseholes in their little island home; dictating to you that you’ve got to chop trees and shit.”
Pausing and seeing the distressed look on their faces Muzgurn waves his hands defensively.
“Okay okay, I’ll get to it, I want you to come with us, hell It’s not just me; many in the hold wants you to come with us, you two are responsible for some great things to us and it wouldn’t be fair for us to just up and leave without offering you something back after all these years; you’re family, and we aren’t gunna leave that to fester under the dominions boot.”
The Bosmer exchanged glances that confirmed what both were thinking- they had been looking for any excuse to leave as it was; they just didn’t quite expect it to arrive in this form.
Belenilwen replied for the pair. “That was oddly touching coming from you Muzgurn; I’ll retract what I said before about you having no heart.”
She smiled weakly to signify that it was a joke before continuing. “But, we have been looking for a way out of our home since our government fell… a mountainous region will be a bit difficult for us to adapt to; that being said, it will be better than this hollow forest…”

Muzgurn nodded to this and said jokingly “At least there will be fewer trees to worry about?”
Leaving one’s home is never easy, especially when in the north an attempt to do as much as possible for the Empire-loyal Bosmer was in effect, one of the other ways out of the country both had contemplated.
Finally after a few tense silent moments Galhiel answered.
“Of course we will come Muzgurn, as my wife said, it will be difficult at first, we are bonded with trees and we will miss them- it is said that mountains are trees of the earth though, so maybe we won’t be too far from them as we first thought.
Helping the Orcs… or rather helping your clan rebuild will be a worthy pursuit, that can’t be denied.”
Muzgurn's face lit up after this statement and he practically jumped from his seat in happiness, unless he beats you in cards he doesn’t do this often.

“Brilliant! Me and the boys will help you gather your stuff, we leave on the morrow!”

The passage through Cyrodiil 4E:30-32
It didn’t take long for the clan to pack up and depart from Valenwood, their close proximity to the Northern border was beneficial to say the least, but the ease of the journey ended there. The passage through the Colovian heartlands wasn’t smooth, interrupted by bandits and even a marauding Daedroth clearly left from the Oblivion crisis. A wonder as to how it had survived for thirty years, but never-the-less it’s skull was a bounty worth it after the chief and his best took it down. It managed to claim 2 lives, but their deaths were honoured with drink the following night.
Altogether there must have been about 56 people traveling together with the caravan of supplies and food, as well as a few empty ones that would include anything they ‘acquired’ along the way.
They first stopped near the still ruined city of Kvatch; it appeared that it was low on the list of the Empire's current agendas, made worse was the fact that squatters of all types; namely bandits or marauders would be inhabiting the ruins as it is it lies right on the road that has supplies coming from Anvil- a large trading hub.
However they camped and set up shop far enough from the city to make them seem less favourable of a target, not that making an attempt on an Orcish stronghold was clever at any rate, since everyone knew how to fight like a warrior.
The plan was to stay for a month or two to scavenge, collect wood, trade and learn what was happening around Cyrodiil and Skyrim, since the path they would take would cross through there instead of going through Hammerfell; for obvious reasons.

During this time they learnt that the empire was struggling all across Tamriel, despite this they have helped significantly with both the Bosmer and Orsimer, and most of all- the best piece of news has that no follow up attack into the new Orsinium had occurred and the Orcs were establishing themselves in the Western Reach, a stretch of mountains in High Rock that bordered the Reach in Skyrim; that would be their entrance point.
Once the clan packed up and moved North; they timed their excursion through the Pale pass to ensure it was done during Mid-Spring, the best time to travel the Jerral mountains and Southern Skyrim; the journey through the reach would be considerably smoother as it didn’t have as brutal late seasonal weather as the rest of the continent.

The transition through the rest of Cyrodiil was fairly smooth, they tried to veer away from main roads as much as they could up until Bruma, and through there they stocked up supplies and made their way through the Pale pass.

Trouble in the Reach 4E:32-35
The Reach had a notoriety about it; one that was known even in Valenwood, it has been a constant place of death and war, namely by the Reachmen who inhabit it, a band of men and women whom are from Breton descent, it is uncertain as to how they will react to a band of Orsimer and a few Bosmer traveling through ‘their land’, but surely they won’t bother them if they just stick to themselves and try and make their way through this area of land as fast as possible.
If only the world worked so ideally however.
It didn’t take long for things to take a sour turn, the clan had established themselves outside of a city named Falkreath, which was the closest settlement that would allow them any where near the walls- Helgen told them to move on as they didn’t want them clogging up the highway through the Pass, and it didn’t make sense to go to the small town called Riverwood.

As it turned out Falkreath had seen its fair share of Orcs in the past couple of years, as many that fled from the war and joined the Empire went south towards Falkreath down into Cyrodiil, unless they were stationed within Skyrim itself.
They were oddly hospitable here towards the Orcs; they were evidently aware of how tough it was getting for their race, the 4th time Orsinium has been sacked now, odd for Nords to feel this way about Orsimer, but they did; at least they did here.
The Pine forest that surrounded Falkreath was abundant with game and they filled their boots before they decided to move on- lest they overstay their welcome.
They had only been camped there for a month, but that was enough, they got everything they needed- even a few extra orcs that straggled behind and decided against the Empire.
Their knowledge of what had happened and the areas ahead made them beyond value, even if they were not the best in terms of strength- Muzgurn said the mines would soon fix that regardless.
The stories they told were nothing if not harrowing, it’s hard to believe that the Orcs had underwent this pain for the 4th time.
They would endure however; the race of outcasts that were the Orcs, the respect that both Galhiel and Belenilwen held for the Orsimer increased significantly.

Little trouble has found for the clan for a good few weeks, eventually however when they were officially within the Reach; a group of their significant size was bound to draw attention quite early.
The forward scouts that Muzgurn had set out since entering the reach land had spotted Reachmen skirting the various hillocks that dotted the land, they were obviously observing the group from a distance and trying to establish something from afar.
They didn’t engage the Orcish scouts however.
As they progressed the number of observers increased and it created an oppressive feeling over the group, the Reachmen were following from afar, but they appeared to be closing the distance in on the clan.
It took a month of this before some Reachmen decided to wait for them ahead on the road they were travelling- at their current pace they were nearly halfway there to the Border between Skyrim and the Western Reach.
The conversation between the ‘leader’ of the Reachmen and Muzgurn went fairly well; they merely wished to ensure that they didn't plan to cause any trouble.
A lie that was painfully evident- that very night after they had set up camp Reachmen attacked the encampment from all sides- the craggy landscape made their archers almost impossible to hit, and the inky darkness of the night made matters much worse.
Thankfully once the clouds cleared mid fight the moon offered the landscape some silvery light and an opportunity to fight back with some semblance of a chance; once the heavy Orichalcum armour was one the arrows that were sent their way bounced off like they were being shot with pebbles, it turned out they used stone instead of metal for their arrowheads, lethal to those lightly armoured of course, but against the heavy durable Orcish steel, they did nothing but scratch the surface.
After an hour of intense fighting the camp sent the Reachmen packing, with almost 70% of their numbers killed or wounded.
That being said, all were dead after Muzgurn seethed his way around the battlefield with a Warhammer.
The Orcish clan had lost around 30% of their number though, and they knew they would be harassed from here to Markarth.
They were, but the attacks were weak and far and few between- they clearly were not used to dealing with such heavy armour otherwise their caravan would be peppered with arrows day and night.
Finally, they reached Markarth, it was an exhausting trip so far and after persuading the Jarl that they wouldn’t be any bother, and provided a few dozen Reachmen heads; slightly rotting, the was satisfied that they would be beneficial to Markarth during their stay.
Unfortunately the way through the mountain pass that lead to Orsinium was impassable, having arrived during late autumn the pass became treacherous, especially with the heavy snowfall that area had endured already before the winter had even begun.
As such, they stayed, moving their encampment a bit further from the city towards an Orichalcum deposit, much to the dismay of many this ‘short’ stay turned out to last for a few years, the clan wished to have a significant supply of Orichalcum before going to their new homeland, and being in the hostile environment they were in was certainly something to deteriorate moral, especially since the West Reach was so close.
Once the chief deemed the clan sufficiently supplied, he left a portion of his clan in the reach as an outpost and to continue mining the metal before taking the rest and moving into Orsinium.
The end to a long journey, and the beginning of a new life; with all the hardships that it would bring, especially with their unusual company of the Bosmer couple.

Gathering strength: 4E:35-56
Smooth Succession: 4E:56-57
Gathering Storm: 4E:57-89
Redguard incursion:4E:89-92
Enduring, Surviving, Thriving.:4E:89-145
Sylvanis is born. 4E:148
(I’ll probably fill in these stories at a later date, but they’re just fillers not relevant to how her parents got to Orsinium)

Sylvanis’ story: 4E:148-205

It’s fair to say that the new home of the Orsimer was far from hospitable, the Orcs adapted fairly quickly as mountainous regions have been their home for centuries- the same can't be said for a growing Bosmer; of course.
Tree’s were few and far between in this mountainous stretch of land and the majority of trade consisted of wood from skyrim, and as aid from the Empire.
Slyvanis grew fast both mentally and physically, considerably faster than most bosmer should or do, this was due the company and environment she grew up in.

Her parents were well aware of this however, and felt that it would be more harmful to let their daughter be coddled in a rough environment, by the time she was 8 her father began teaching her how to use a bow, by this time she was already reflecting her future personality she was loud, angry and commonly got into fights, however the Orcs in the clan loved her for this; she was called a ‘Stone Elf’, an Orsimer in personality but wood elf in appearance, that is until she was about 14 and began practicing the axe instead of the bow- much to her father's dismay.
Her mother on the other hand said that their daughter is attempting new avenues of combat, and for a while at least they should let her attempt to reach the Orcs skill.

Skill, she had. She bested almost every Orc in sparring at her own age, what she lacked however was the body to match and meet the demands of one on one combat for extended periods of time, as well as when she got older she simply lacked the ability to shrug off her opponent's attacks, the Orichalcum armour she began to wear when they used real sharp metal in spars and competitions really began to weigh her down further harming her endurance and capability to fight- her body was not designed for this sort of combat, and when she was 18 she finally realised that she must change that to continue down this path.

Her parents realised that their daughter loved the way of the warrior- they initially dismissed her birth sign as allowing her to use more powerful bows rather than donning a suit of armour and wielding a warhammer which is inevitably what their daughter became.

It was during this time- when Sylvanis began extensive training on her muscles and body that she; for the first time, picked up a Warhammer.
She was training extensively with an older Orc in the settlement, one of the best Warhammer wielders the clan had ever had; he’d have preferred to die with a hammer in his hand, but he felt that passing on his knowledge and training to the other clan members was ultimately more important for their strength.
Since the Bosmer family were held in high regard- still held in high regard even after all this time and multiple chiefs- the old grizzled Orc decided to pass on his knowledge and training to a girl he honestly thought would never get as fast she did- t’was not out of sympathy or to give a helping hand, if he honestly thought that she would gain nothing from his training or lacked the conviction to follow through the brutal training regime then he would have told her to start stinging bows, or alternatively marry an Orc.

To say that the regime was brutal by Orc standards meant that it was essentially Oblivion on the plane of Mundas itself for the little Bosmer girl.
Not that she shied away from it, she kept going through it despite the liturgy of bruises and scars she gained from it.
She trained like this for 10 years, when the old Orc- who was practically her second father at this point, said one day that he had taught her everything he knew, hell, that he even learnt some things himself during the time.
It was that day that he felt young again- packed up with his armour and hammer and left the West reach, to maraud in Hammerfell to the day he died, just as Malacath would be pleased with.
It was during this time that Sylvanis picked up many teachings from Malacath, and she began; not so much worshipping him, but following his code.

Sylvanis put her mentors teaching to good use, she acquired her first set of armour during the time she spent with the forge mother, the Orcish smithing process is incredible, the armour certainly matches it creators, requiring a strong arm to mold the metal to the shapes you require- that being said it’s little wonder that Orcish armour is very jagged, the metal is very difficult to work with.
Then after she was suited and ready to fight- she picked up her hammer and entered a tournament that celebrated the chief's birthday.
Much to everyone's surprise she hammered her way through the competition, the training and years of bruises and scars certainly paid off.
She didn’t win, she came second place to chief himself- typically the chief doesn’t participate but he got excited and entered it himself- another way to prove that he is the right chieftain for the clan at any rate.

Despite coming second, she was cheered by all and the celebrations later that night were merry and long.

Sylvanis made her way through the rest of her time in Orsinium with ease and she had certainly found her element after her training, her parents were proud of her despite the glaringly different path they thought she would go down initially.

When she reached the mature age of 45 at 4E 193 she decided to leave home and the western reach behind her, as is the right of passage for many, this is what she wanted to do- to travel Skyrim and experience new things, new lands and maybe find a purpose for herself.
She didn’t leave however without a hell of a send off.
The night before she was to leave there was a large amount of drinking and claps on the back, and of course the odd brawl to top the night off.
She left with the Chief's blessing, giving her a token that would allow her to enter any Orcish stronghold as she seen fit, and to be treated as an equal- she was Blood-kin, but she was more than that.
She also left with two incredible items, a Warhammer crafted specially for Slyvanis- it was large and unweildly at firts look; its design was much a kin to any standard Orcish Warhammer; with the exception of a consoderbly larger head than most as such; being made from Orichalcum, it weighed a considerable amount, but it allowed an incredible arc from each swing, and had devastating results to those foolish enough to tarry in its path.
She was also granted a pair of gauntlets, they looked like a pair of battle scarred and old Orcish gauntlets to the eye, but when worn it granted the wearer incredible strength in the arms- to be able to lift even the heaviest of weapons- oddly it didn’t let the user swing weapons faster, it merely allowed them to wield seemingly unwieldy weapons.

Apparently a chieftain once worn these gloves to wield a blade that was 8 foot tall, he carved his way through many a foe- Sylvanis felt that this was a bit grandiose, but probably held some of the truth.
Finally she said farewell to her ageing parents- both were well into their early 200’s and were reaching the end of their lives- it’s surprising to say at the least, but apparently the fresh mountain air done some good for their health.

She entered through the same pass in that which her parents entered Orsinium in the first place, she stopped off at Markarth first, from a nation of stone to a city of stone- how appropriate.
Naturally she stopped of at the inn and began drinking and learning about the local area and what was going on in Skyrim at the current moment in time- turns out she hadn’t missed much, with the exception of a small rebellion in the reach- that was put down by Ulfric Stormcloak.
She asked where the best place to go for a drink was and her fellow drinking partners; off-duty guards, said that Whiterun had a good brewery there, but then an argument broke off that the one in Riften was better.
Leaving the following day she travelled with skip in her step excited about what laid ahead of her, she met up with a Khajiit caravan and got talking with a large Khajiit named Rhasha’Dar who after a night of drinking allowed her to tag along with the Caravan and to it’s destination at Whiterun, she got on well with the majority of the convoy- although there were a few insufferable annoyances in it- she was tempted to give them a taste of her hammer- but thought that would sour relations a bit.
She also picked up a bit restoration magic as well- this was due to the fact that the reach was still a dangerous place and Sylvanis commonly went chasing after the “little shits in fur” once they dared veer too close to the convoy.
Rhasha’Dar got sick of bandaging her wounds and taught her how to heal herself, as well as how to ward way “nasty fire”.
In the words of “his fluffiness”- a nickname branded on him when she was drunk.
Eventually they made it to Whiterun and parted on good terms, and she once again- rather predictably went straight to the nearest tavern.
She decided to linger here however- turns out there was work going at the local blacksmith and she decided she should polish her skills up for a while, and make some money whilst she is at it.
Her time her was uneventful in the grand scheme of things but she was known around town for her brawls and voracious drinking; well liked but known as a bit of a troublemaker.

She then moved on towards Riften, in her quest to drink; yes, at that moment in time it was her quest.
Simple things keep simple people happy.
It was along here though that she really started to pick up a bit of a merc lifestyle- she performed odd jobs and task that usually involved killing something, to say she got sidetracked is probably an understatement, she holed up in Kynesgrove taking anything the Jarl dropped by and killed it for the gold- in which she proceeded to spend on drink, lodging and food.
Eventually she slapped herself out of her little tavern and went on to Riften, as originally intended.
The year was 195 at this point, and she stayed herein Riften for several years taking any work that found its way to her and working the forge when it suited her.
It was a nomadic lifestyle but the advent of the Dragons meant that those in her ‘profession’ had very short life spans.
She finally left Riften in 204 and made her way to Windhelm, hoping to get some work.