Little Italy — Roleplayer Guild

Elle calmed her breathing and shut her eyes for a moment. It was over, the creature was dead. But wait, what about- Her eyes snapped open again and she looked around for Nil. As far as she knew, he had been burned alive. However, she was a little surprised to look up to see him looking down at her with one extended, no worse for wear, albeit missing some clothing. But at the moment, she was to relieved that he was in one piece, accepting his hand and getting to her feet, and, without really thinking about it, hugged him tightly as she said, “Thank divines, you scared me half to death.” She looked up at him, realizing he probably wasn’t comfortable with the gesture,  before letting him go and turning around to look at the dragon silently. 

When the Breton embraced him suddenly, Nil stiffened, unused to and surprised by the spontaneous action. His cheeks darkened even further, if such a thing was possible, as he stood there awkwardly, too uncomfortable and out of his depth to be able to react. Is this a… normal thing for mortals to do? If so, I really know nothing of their culture, he wondered, looking at Eilonwy with confusion evident in his features—as well as the overwhelming amount of shame he currently felt. Once she had relinquished her hold on him, however, his focus then turned to the dead dragon, curiosity warring with his slight mortification as he looked towards its carcass.

The other guards were starting to cautiously approach now, realizing that the creature wasn’t moving ever again. She stood still for a moment, before walking forward intending to pull her sword from the dead beast’s corpse, when something strange happened. The moment she got close, she noticed a flake of hot glowing ash loose itself from the dragon’s hide and float rapidly upward, more following shortly after in increasingly larger chunks. Soon, the body was disintegrating right before her eyes, the scales and flesh burning up and disappearing into the air. She stumbled back abruptly when a sudden rush of air hit her in the face, bright streams of lights originating from the ribcage of the fallen dragon rushing toward her, exactly like the ones from the strange dragon shrine from the barrow. She was too shocked to move, the golden light filling her vision and a sudden surge of heat rising in her chest. Her ears rang and her head felt like it was on fire, but with the bizarre sensation came a feeling of sheer, raw power coursing through her veins that both frightened and fascinated her at the same time. Her insides felt like an inferno, as though someone had set her heart ablaze and the flames had spread through every inch of her. In her mind, she could see flashes of random images that made absolutely no sense, and the sensory overload was too much for her to even begin to make sense of them at the moment. The onslaught was overwhelming both physically and mentally, and she had no idea how to stop it.

Then suddenly, it was over. The light disappeared and her sight was extremely blurry, her body still tingling from what she had just experienced. What that was? She had absolutely no idea, because her head felt as though it had been thrust into a forge and her limbs felt heavy, as if they were made of iron. She slowly sunk to her knees before slumping forward, coming into abrupt contact with the earth, the darkness crawling into the corners of her vision not giving her much choice on whether she remained conscious or not. 

Nil stared in shock as the dragon’s skin began to flake off and smoulder, unsure of what on Nirn was happening to its carcass as it continued to disintegrate, the skin sagging and scales dropping off of flesh in a rather unpleasant manner as it rapidly decomposed. His awe and horror was only doubled when, rather suddenly, a bright light shot out from the creature’s corpse, the beam flying past him and ghosting across his skin before beginning to make their residence in his companion. It appeared as if she was literally glowing, surrounded by a maelstrom of cacophonous and colorful wisps of light—the half-dunmer had never seen anything like it in all his years, and didn’t know what to make of it. Was Eilonwy in trouble, or was this simply a part of dragon slaying? He certainly wasn’t the one to know the answer, and found rather frustratingly the only action he could take was to watch her cautiously to see what ight unfold. 

As the lights around his comrade finally faded away, he watched the small breton sway in place before sinking to her knees, appearing unnaturally drained as she fell face-forward into the dirt. She appeared to have gone completely still for a moment, and unease rose within the demiprince as he cautiously approached her, having no clue if it was safe to even attempt such a thing. She seemed to only be unconscious, luckily, but there was no telling what… well, whatever it was, had done to her. He raised his gaze to look at the other guards who had managed to survive the battle, wondering if they were just as clueless as he was. The overall expressions of the men and women who had fought alongside them seemed to be ones of awe—and perhaps even reverence?—, but the silence that had fallen over the group had yet to be broken. 

One of the guards, a middle aged fellow with a dumbstruck look on his face, slowly walked over to the dunmer and the fallen girl and shook his head in amazement. “I can’t believe it…” he said, stopping a few feet away, “She’s… she’s dragonborn.”

“Hm?” Nil replied, at first not quite comprehending what the fellow was suggesting, “Wait. Her? Really?” However, he added silently Well, it would certainly explain a lot of recent events. And, in fact, it’d answer every question I have other than that of my own memory loss. But is whatever just happened to her normal for one of her… Kind? I’m not sure what to even make of this, if she does happen to play such a role in the world of men.

The guard nodded solemnly as he sheathed his sword, “How else do you explain it? She absorbed the dragon’s power. In the legends, the dragonborn is the only one who can truly slay a dragon by capturing its soul. If that’s not the case with your friend here, then I’m not really sure how to explain it,” he said, glancing over at Irileth who marched up with a puzzled expression on her face. “Dragonborn or not, the beast is slain, and that’s good enough for me. We should return and tell the Jarl that Whiterun is safe,” she stated, crossing her arms and eyeing the Breton girl on the ground almost warily now. 

As the guards and their captain continued to theorize, Nil was paying only the smallest amount of attention to their conversing, focused mainly on the fact that his companion had yet to awaken. Was it possible that whatever killing the dragon had done to her might be causing her harm? He frowned as he stared at her still form for a few minutes, wondering over whether or not he should do something—if he could do anything. However, it was equally as difficult to ignore how humiliatingly vulnerable he was at the moment, and in a moment of extreme self-centeredness he decided that, if Elle did happen to wake up in the near future, he’d prefer she not see him like this. And, for that matter, he’d rather not test whether or not Whiterun would arrest a man for public indecency. 

The other guards were now coming forward and murmuring to one another as they tried to figure out what had just occurred. One of them, noticing Nil’s current state, wordlessly offered him a cuirass that he had taken off of a fallen comrade. “She’s not dead, is she?” another piped up, the first guard kneeling down beside Elle, turning her onto her back, and holding two fingers to her throat. “No, she’s alive, just unconscious,” he announced. “Enough,” Irilieth stated, “it’s time we returned and explain what happened,” she ordered, turning on her heel and starting back the way they had come.

Deciding not to ask where the guard had found the spare uniform, Nilovas took it with a nod of acknowledgement, pulling on the cuirass with little difficulty, thankfully. However, although it was more than wide enough to fit him, length-wise, it was a bit short, but it’d have to do for the time being. Without another word, he approached Eilonwy’s still form, lifting her off of the ground and carefully hoisting her over one shoulder. She didn’t look like she’d be waking up anytime soon, and he figured that, seeing as there had been some sort of temple to the Divines in the city, if she was injured in any way they’d be the most qualified to help her. He quickly overtook Irileth, his strides quick and purposeful as he made his way back to the poorly-walled city, feeling more concern for the small mortal than he was comfortable with feeling. He’d stepped in to protect her without much of a thought—sure, that meant he’d repaid his debt to her, but somehow he found that didn’t seem to matter much now. In that moment, he had been acting fully on instinct, not out of duty. Something within him, even now, felt the need to protect her, as foolish and nonsensical as the notion was.  A traitorous thought arose within him at this, The Breton mentioned something about having friends. About me having made them. Perhaps… she considers herself among them? And she’s proven her use as an ally, finishing off the dragon. Maybe it would be wise not to fight this oddity. He would have to attempt to speak with her on the matter later, however, as ensuring that she was not in any immediate danger was more important than his shoddy attempts at working out any supposed ‘relationship issues’. 

In a matter of mere minutes, the demi-prince began to rapidly approach the outskirts ‘crown jewel’ of Skyrim, so focused on his task that he barely registered the murmurs of random farmhands and traveling merchants as he passed through. But it would be difficult for even him to ignore the sounds that came next.

“DOVAHKIIN!”

The ground shook with all the force of an earthquake and the cries of confused cityfolk filled the air as Nil stumbled, fighting desperately to stay upright whilst wincing at the severity of the clamorous cry. ”What in Oblivion…?” He muttered, torn between bewilderment and annoyance as he cast a wary glance at the suspiciously clear skies. Had another dragon—perhaps even the black dragon—come to contend with Eilonwy as well? If so, Nilovas was fairly certain his companion was in no condition to fight another one of the beasts within the same day. But upon realizing there were no flying, fire-breathing lizards in sight, a state of utter perplexion overcame the half-dunmer. Whatever it was had clearly been speaking in the Dragon Tongue. Could it be that someone else who could use the Voice now knew of Elle’s existence? 

Elle remained very still throughout the whole conversation going on over her head, but while they were bickering about what she was and what they were to do about it, she was fighting battles of her own. There was a dragon inside her head, and it wasn’t happy to be there. She wasn’t trying to slay it this time, she had nothing to kill it with, merely attempting to subdue the angry beast. It wasn’t like before, when she had help and a weapon, she and the dragon were more evenly matched this time, in a way. But whenever it landed a blow or injured her, the pain wasn’t simply local to the area, or even in her body. It was like it surrounded her, like the air was full of that pain that originated in her head, and it was an awful and strange sensation. The two wrestled with one another for what seemed like ages before she was finally able to emerge victorious again, both too exhausted to continue. It was all very perplexing, but it didn’t feel like a dream, even though she was quite aware of the fact that she was unconscious. However, she didn’t get to dwell on it, because a loud voice thundered the same words that this dragon spoken had before its death.

DOVAHKIIN.

The Breton’s eyes snapped open abruptly and she inhaled a sharp breath as she tried to sit up and pinpoint the source of the voice, only to find that she had been slung over someone’s shoulder and was no longer anywhere near the dragon’s corpse. She clung desperately to said person’s back to keep from falling off as she sucked in a few shaking breaths as everything that had just happened came rushing back to the forefront of her mind. She had just slain a dragon. She, a tiny Breton bookworm with hardly enough skill and courage to face a few bandits, had just killed a legendary creature and taken its power… somehow. She wasn’t entirely sure what that was all about. 

The moment that he felt Elle move, Nilovas stiffened in surprise and embarrassment, recovering quickly before carefully removing her from his shoulder and placing her on her feet as if he’d been setting down a kitten. Keeping a hand on her shoulder upon noticing how shaken she seemed, he asked quickly, “You all right? What happened there?”

His concern was genuine, and he scowled frustratedly at this realization, not at all comfortable with this relatively foreign feeling. Nevertheless, he really did want to know what on Nirn had just transpired—he was feeling a bit out of the loop regarding this whole dragonborn business. He had so many questions he wanted to ask her, but for the time being, held off, knowing that the more he asked, the more overwhelmed she’d be, rendering her unable to answer anything. Assuming she knew even any of the answers, that was. It seems the more I’ve tried to disengage myself from one problem, I’ve managed to entrench myself within something much more complex, he thought to himself tiredly as he observed Elle warily, ready to catch her should she collapse again. 

Elle held on tightly to Nil’s arm with one hand to steady herself, the other raised to her temples as she reordered her thoughts, looking up at Nil after he set her down with a blank, doe eyed expression for a moment. She had registered that he had just asked her a question, but a more important thought just occurred to her. The word she had seen on the dragon wall in Bleak Falls Barrow, the one that had glowed when she approached, she could say it, where she couldn’t before, despite knowing what it meant. She wasn’t sure how or why she knew that, but the word registered with her now, she could speak it properly, she could feel it. “I can say it,” she stated, “The one from the shrine, that word, it makes sense,” she told him, realizing she could stand on her own two feet and letting him go. However, she figured that her statement probably didn’t make much sense to him, but there a few things that struck her in that moment. She had heard tales of warriors that could absorb the souls of dragon and harness the power of their Thu’um without training, the dragonborn. What had just happened to her sounded eerily similar to the ancient Nordic myth, but at the same time, it didn’t seem quite possible.  But, I guess there’s only one way to find out, she thought to herself. 

She turned facing the side of the road away from Nilovas so that he stood to her left, remaining motionless for a moment. It truly seemed improbable, she was the most unlikely of candidates, but she wasn’t sure how else to explain this. Something inside of her had changed, for better or for worse. She narrowed her eyes slightly and sucked in as much air as her lungs could hold. 

“FUS!”

The shout left her mouth like a small clap of thunder, a strong force striking the plants and stones before her,  flattening the grass and scattering dust in the process. The power surprised her and she took a stumbling step backward, her eyes wide with shock as she looked over at Nil with disbelief written across her face. She had no words to even begin to describe or explain how and what she was feeling at the moment, and all she could do was stand frozen in place. There was something thrilling about it, but she was also terrified of herself, the fact that she was capable of such a thing was frightening to her. It may have just been a little shout in comparison to what it could become, but even that potential was something that she wasn’t sure how to handle or accept. 

“Hold on, what?” Nil replied to Elle’s bizarre claim, completely uninformed about her odd experience in the barrow. He'd seen her looking oddly at a prominent wall in the last room of the ruin, but what had she possibly learned from that? It made absolutely no sense to him, as the most logical conclusion he could make from her exclamation was that, somehow, thanks to the dragon’s soul, she could now knew the meaning of some word off of the ancient epithet. What good did that do anybody, least of all her? There had to be more to being Dragonborn than that. Was it possible that not only did she know what a specific word meant, but that she also understood it the way a dragon would - and therefore could use it the same way?

The half-daedra’s conjecture was swiftly proved correct when a deafening sound escaped from the Breton’s lips, a sound so deep and primal that he barely recognized her voice behind it. He was struck speechless by this display of power as the grass flattened and dirt flew into the air under the influence of her Voice. What was there that he could say to discovering his once unremarkable companion was capable of something like this? Nil was equal parts awed and horrified by this newfound knowledge; a mortal was capable of doing something he couldn’t, and they were standing just a few feet away from them, having just realized their strengths. But, as Elle didn’t promptly become a power-hungry madwoman eager to destroy everything in sight, or do anything but look to him in equal disbelief and confusion, Nil realized how ridiculous his fleeting fear of her new ability was. She was not at all the type to go about using such a talent to cause unnecessary harm, and so when he found a way to respond to her, he did so with a laugh, albeit a slightly shaken one, “Well, you certainly weren’t lying. That was… something.”

However, now that Elle was up and appeared fine, Nilovas didn’t want to tarry too much longer before returning to Dragonsreach—he didn’t doubt there would be a reward for the two for killing the dragon, and perhaps there was someone within the court who might know more about Eilonwy's abilities. “The Jarl will probably want to know about this—or he’ll have heard it, or someone will have told him about hearing it. We should head back into the city before it gets any later,” he remarked, starting towards the gates once more, although he did cast a glance over his shoulder to see if his companion was following suit.

Elle’s expression was still rather dazed as she looked back at Nil when he chuckled, his response both surprising and puzzling. But she didn’t say anything, staring at him quietly, still trying to wrap her head around what she had just done and what it meant. He didn’t seem too fazed, aside from the slightly uncertain expression and nervous laughter. Her thoughts were too preoccupied to really read into his body language and general behavior right about now. She hardly registered when he suggested they continue and started walking away from her. She nodded slowly in agreement and started to shuffle on behind him as she replied, “Yes, yes of course.”

She really was trying to get it together, but it was a lot to take in. The most excitement she had ever experienced before two days ago was a bandit attack; this sort of thing was what she read about, something that seemed so far off and in an entirely different realm. She wasn’t a warrior who ran around fighting monsters and seeking glory, but now she felt like she was in one of her books. She half expected this to be a really crazy dream and to wake up safe in her bed back home, but this was real, it was really happening. And suddenly the events of the last couple days were starting to fall into place, the coincidences now taking a more purposeful mantle in her memory alongside everything that had happened from Helgen all the way up to now. The dragon attack, the way the beast looked at her, the dreams, the shrine, everything. But she still didn’t know why, and that bothered her. She also still wasn’t sure how Nilovas fit into all this, why he had made the decision to stick with her.

She followed a few steps behind Nil, her face had going from hazy to intensely thoughtful by the time they neared the gates of Whiterun, and here she stopped for a moment and called, “Nil?” and waiting for him to turn around and face her, asked, “What am I?” 

It was a simple question that she was afraid that she already knew the answer to. She just didn’t want to be the first to suggest it out loud. Honestly, she didn’t want to be anything other than what she already was. She had been content, a simple and flexible path laid out before her. Divines knew that all changed the moment she tripped over that Imperial soldier. Now she was gallivanting around the countryside with a half-mer slaying legendary creatures who were supposed to be long extinct and absorbing their power. Or something along those lines. She still wasn’t sure what had just happened.

Nilovas paused at Eilonwy’s question, replying in a deceptively detached and simple manner, “I don’t know why you’d have to ask that. I would think it was obvious to you that you’re a particularly tiny mortal that asks far too many questions.”

If Elle bothered to look at him after he said this, however, she’d see the half-mer desperately attempting to fight off a small grin. Nilovas was relatively certain the mortal knew—or would soon figure out, anyway—that she was Dragonborn, although what that entailed was of far more interest to him than that mere fact. She seemed to be the type to lean towards using her powers to more benign ends, but even those with the best of intentions could go astray, if they didn’t burn themselves out first. The demiprince supposed that it would be quite a problem for Nirn should she expire before she knew how to use her powers, not to mention why an individual such as herself appeared in this particular age. Very few Divine-favored individuals were ever brought into existence without good reason.

Elle tilted her head and wrinkled her nose at him in irritation at this response, but she could tell by his expression and tone that he was just trying to lighten the mood and make her feel better. Which, she had to admit, seemed a little out of character for him. She crossed her arms and marched past him with the defiant response, “I’m not that tiny, you’re just weirdly tall.” She could sit and stew in her thoughts later, for now they needed to alert the jarl that the dragon had been slain. She didn’t want to add anything about her part in it, really, but she had a feeling she wouldn’t be able to escape that at this rate.  

She pushed through the heavy wooden gates into the city, following the cobbled road back up to Dragonsreach, although this time, she took more time to look at her surroundings, as the last few times she had blazed through with more pressing matters to accomplish. She liked the look of the place, nothing extravagant, but still well put together and orderly. Even though she had never been here before, there was a homey familiarity to it that she couldn’t put her finger on. At this point, she was just trying to distract herself from the feeling of incredibly raw power warm in her chest. Once they reached the doors to the great hall, she paused again and turned to Nil. “Um, why don’t you tell him?” she asked, clasping her hands behind her back. 

(Collab: Part 2)

Sorren decided that there was something off about the glassy look in the knight's eyes, considering he hadn't looked straight at either him or Mira once, and there wasn't a lot of eye movement even then. Upon closer inspection, when the soldier tugged him forward toward the middle aged man, he realized that he was blind. This made sense, since he had noticed the other guards informing him of details that one could have seen with the gift of sight. As upset as the he was with his current predicament, he couldn't help but have a certain degree of respect for the fellow, continuing to hold his position and do his job despite a rather debilitating handicap. He was also relieved that the knight was willing to hear him out, which gave him a shot at getting out of this. 

"Thank you," he said, casting a glance back toward Mira when she grunted in protest as they retrieved the cursing weasel from inside her shirt. She may have gotten him into this mess in the first place, but he didn't appreciate seeing her treated so roughly. It was a weasel, not the crown jewels. "Since you seem to be acquainted with Mira, I'm sure you're well aware that she is mute," he began, "She saved my life, so in exchange, I offered to help her get her voice back, per say. Although, I thought she would have snagged something off a fellow pirate or picked up a stray cat. Anyway, I enchanted the weasel to interpret and relay her signs, so that's why it's yelling profanity," he explained with a shake of his head, "Therefore, I don't think there's a reason to arrest us, since I can remove the spell and the weasel can be returned, and we can obtain a little companion for her through better channels," he shot a brief glance back at Mira before facing the knight again, "We didn't intend to cause such an uproar… over a rodent," he finished, arching an eyebrow and shooting the guard holding the rope a dirty glare when he rolled his eyes at the elf. 

Little Italy Member

Trash Panda

Status

Recent Statuses

Bio

Most Recent Posts