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Skyrim: Darkness Rising Chapter 1

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It's incredible how much one appreciates the little things, like pausing to watch the waves of the Ghost Sea, or sitting in one's house and watching children as they play in the streets down below.  You never realise just how calming those simple moments can be until you've fought a war.  Or two, in my case.  And now Skyrim's in a time of peace, or so it thinks.  What the many call peacetime, the few who know better know that it's really just a calm before the storm.  

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The sun blazed in the sky above the Solitude docks, offering a rare, natural respite from the dull grey clouds.  On one of the wooden walkways, several Legionnaires, most wearing light armour, were loading up a ship, the Empire's symbol proudly emblazoned on the ship's sails.  

"Make sure the mead barrels are tied in place.  We'll need them if we have any hope of surviving the trip to Cyrodiil," a large Nord in heavy armour shouted at the men, chuckling with them as he oversaw the supplies, occasionally glancing at a list as he checked everything.  His long red hair reached his shoulders, his beard stopping just at his neckline.  His brown eyes scanned the list before he ticked something off.  A quiver of steel arrows hung on his back, while two Imperial swords hung from his hips.

"Well, well, the great Orion lowered to stock keeping.  I'm glad I was only a temporary Legionnaire," a young, female voice laughed, the sound of metal on wood making him look up, a large grin on his face as he greeted his friend.

"Uh huh.  At least I can get cheaper drinks in the taverns," Orion laughed, putting away his list as he turned to the young Breton woman, the two embracing each other as best they could in their armour.

"Yeah, and I can get them for free with just one word," the woman chuckled, crossing her arms.  Her Daedric armour blazed red in the sunlight, while the emeralds in her gold circlet shone like torches.  Her long raven hair shone purple in the light, while her bloodshot blue eyes shone like sapphires.  Her black war paint formed upward curves on her eyes, while her three scars ran down from her left eye.  At her hips hung two Daedric swords, their curved, jagged blades an unnatural silver while a Daedric bow and a quiver of Dwarven arrows rested on her back.

"You win.  For now.  You sure you're going to be okay here Siarra?  I doubt that killing Alduin, Ancano and Ulfric will get Vathik off your tail that easily," Orion mumbled, the two friends walking to the edge of the dock.

"Maybe not.  Don't forget all the allies we have, and the fact that, together, we've managed to unite all of them.  I can't think of much that can stand against the Companions, Dark Brotherhood and Thieves Guild fighting together," Siarra sighed, glancing out into the distance as she leaned against her friend.  "Is it strange that I can face Alduin, the Word Eater, Bringer of the end times, but I'm scared to death of one elf," she mumbled, sapphire blue meeting bright brown as she looked up into Orion's eyes.

"Not at all.  And look how far you've come.  Like you said, remember the allies we've made.  You aren't alone in this fight.  We'll get through this, I promise," Orion reassured, pulling the young Dragonborn into a hug as the sound of massive wings beat overhead, the two of them turning to see a red dragon land on the Imperial ship, causing it to sink slightly under his weight.

"Drem Yol Lok.  Paarthurnax sends his regards, Orion," the dragon boomed, startling many of the soldiers on the walkway.  The Stormcloak Rebellion had been more than a month ago, but the soldiers still remembered the sight of Winged Snow Hunter, or Odahviing, as was his true name, descending from the mountains, his fiery Thu'um devastating Stormcloaks as they tried to hold their ground.

"Give him my thanks, and my well wishes.  I'm still amazed at how you two have managed to avoid the Blades.  Especially Delphine," Orion chuckled.

"Thank the Dovahkiin.  She was very….persuasive during her last visit to their temple," the dovah murmured, the ends of his mouth curling up into a small smile at the memory.  He had been there, along with Paarthurnax, when Siarra had confronted the Blades, daring them to attack.  The fact that she'd summoned a raging storm with two words had clearly been enough to convince them to back off.  They'd also been very quick to hand the sword Dragonbane and a set of armour to her.

"What can I say?  I have a way with words," Siarra shrugged, the three friends laughing as another Nord walked towards them, his short brown hair neat while his pale blue eyes glanced cautiously to the dragon perched on the ship, his past experience still leaving him weary around him.

"So, not long till you're off to Cyrodiil, eh Orion?" Hadvar greeted, the two men sharing a strong handshake.  

"Only a matter of hours.  Might be a little delayed if these men don't stop gawking," Orion ordered, breaking some of the soldiers from their trance, some of them having never seen the large reptile before.

"I just came by to wish you well, maybe enjoy one last drink together.  And to let Siarra know that she has a visitor," he replied, gesturing to the top of the wooden steps, where a High Elf stood in Thalmor robes, her hood down to reveal shoulder length blond hair, her yellow eyes fixed on the young woman.

"Enjoy your drink.  I think it was time we were leaving anyway," Siarra sighed, glancing at Odahviing, who took flight, pushing the boat further down into the water as he did so, while she walked quickly towards the elven woman, glancing back as Hadvar held out two bottles of mead, her best friend taking his bottle and pulling the cork out.

"I thought that was your dragon I saw from the Embassy.  Giving your farewells?" the older woman inquired, stepping back as Siarra reached the top of the stairs.

"Orion is leaving for Cyrodiil.  Now that the war here's over, he's needed elsewhere," she sighed, her blue eyes watching the two Nords below, their laughing audible from where she was standing.

"An unfortunate occurrence.  And I come with even more unfortunate news," Elenwen murmured, looking away as realisation dawned on Siarra's face.  "He arrives in a few months, and I have done everything in my power to stop it, but it's now out of my hands."

"We both know what his coming here means.  If he finds me, manages to get me alone, then the alliance between the three groups falls apart.  And no-one is ready to face him, or the army he'll have waiting for his command," Siarra exclaimed, her normally bright blue eyes now filled with fear.

"There isn't much more I can do, for the moment.  I can try to delay him closer to the time, but I doubt it will last for very long.  In the meantime, I would recommend finding as many powerful artefacts as possible," the Thalmor added, placing a reassuring hand on Siarra's armoured shoulder.

"And hide them somewhere only I would know where to find them, or with people I can trust," the Breton mumbled, turning around as she put two fingers into her mouth, a loud, shrill whistle piercing the quiet, followed by the sound of hooves as her horse galloped towards her, his red eyes aglow and hair as black as the darkest night.  From his saddle hung a travel bag, which Siarra began rummaging around in, pulling out an ancient looking mask.

"I got this from Skuldafn, from one of the Dragon Priests.  It has a very powerful enchantment on it, one we wouldn't want Vathik to get his hands on," she explained, holding it out towards her elven friend.

"I'm not sure I should be keeping this.  Are you sure…"

"It's not permanent.  For the time being, it'll be safer in your Embassy's walls than in my possession.  It's only until I can find a better place to hide it, along with any other masks I find," she interrupted, leaving out the fact that she'd already found a second mask, which Tolfdir was safeguarding while she was away.  

"Very well.  But, if I may ask, where do you plan on travelling to now?"  Elenwen questioned, watching as Siarra mounted Shadowmere, her black and red armour matching her mount's hair and eyes.

"Falkreath.  Rumour has it that there's something Daedra related there.  It might be nothing, but if there's an artefact there, I plan on getting it first," she answered as she took her leave, Shadowmere quickly breaking into a gallop as she spurred him on, quickly gone from sight.

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The wild expanse of Skyrim was amazingly quiet as Siarra rode on, the sky already darkening as clouds blew in, threatening to unleash pouring rain upon the land.  As she rode down the wooded road, she could already feel small droplets of rain splashing against her face before trickling down her cheeks.

"Whoa, boy.  Stop here a moment," she whispered, the dark horse trotting to a halt at her command, raising his nose into the air, trying to sniff out that which made his mistress want to stop.  He watched as she dismounted, her blue eyes darting in every direction, trying to find something among the trees.

"Stay here," she mumbled, leaving the road as she drew her bow, notching an arrow as she sneaked forward, the darkness of the forest giving her a familiar feeling of stalking a target, briefly reminding her of her time with the Dark Brotherhood, before her full attention returned to the task at hand.  

"Hello!  Is anyone out there?!" a young voice cried, the desperation and hopelessness pulling at Siarra's heartstrings.  In a flash, her bow was on her back, her swords grasped tightly in her hands as she sprinted forward, moving with the swiftness and grace of a thief as the sound of sobbing grew louder and closer.  

Before long, she found the source of the sobbing in a small clearing.  A young girl sat huddled up on the forest floor, her red dress already damp, while her blonde hair was messy.  A chain was wrapped around a tree behind her, connected to a single shackle on her ankle.

"Don't worry, you're safe now," Siarra whispered, sheathing one of her swords as she approached, crouching down so as not to frighten the girl more than she already was.  "My name is Siarra.  What's your name?" she asked, her voice as soft as silk as she searched in her satchel for a lock pick.

"Sissel.  I'm from Rorikstead," the girl whimpered, looking up at the older Breton as she pulled out a pick, then looked behind her as the green glow of a charging spell appeared from the darkness.  "Look out!" she screamed, too late as the spell hit her saviour, Siarra standing back up only to fall over as the paralysis spell took hold, unable to block the war-hammer that slammed into her stomach, knocking her onto her back.

"So, this is the great Dragonborn?  Hardly lives up to the legend I'd say," a male voice taunted, the arrogant tone making it clear he was Altmer.

"We'll see," Siarra hissed, taking a deep breath as the words formed on her tongue, only to be cut off mid-shout by the Orc slamming his hammer onto her stomach again, coughing as the air was knocked out of her.  

"Won't be long before the spell wears off.  Get the ropes," another voice, this one female, ordered, the ashen grey skin giving her Dunmer heritage away.  As another of the group, another Altmer, grabbed some ropes, she was knocked flying as hooved feet kicked into her armoured chest as Shadowmere burst from the forest shadow, crimson eyes ablaze as he faced his mistress' attackers, snorting angrily as he prepared to charge again.

"No Shadowmere, go for help!  Find the Companions!" she yelled, only for the hammer to once again slam on her stomach, this time coughing up blood.  Despite the urge to protect his mistress, he turned to run, albeit hesitantly, as more elves emerged from the shadows, all of them armed better than common bandits.  

"Smart horse.  Not that he'll find help for you," the first Altmer, clearly the leader, sneered, watching as Siarra was hit with another paralysis spell, as Bosmer and Dunmer removing her Daedric armour, leaving her in ragged clothes which had several burns, before binding her, making sure she couldn't break out.

"Don't underestimate him.  He's not a typical horse," she spat, glaring as a piece of cloth was wrapped around her mouth, preventing her from shouting, before her circlet was removed.  Her blue eyes were filled with anger, before a hood was placed over her head to hide her face.

"Leave everything but the gold.  We don't want anyone linking this to us!" the Altmer ordered, before turning to Sissel, picking up one of Siarra's swords.  "And as for you.  Here, this should help you get free," he taunted, stabbing the sword into the ground just beyond the girl's reach, laughing as he followed his fellow elves, leaving Sissel alone in the clearing, watching helplessly as her would-be saviour was carried away, before she began to cry again.
"Chapter 1- Abducted"

My first Skyrim story, centreing around my Dovahkiin Siarra. This takes place after completing the main story, as well as all other factions, but with no Daedric artefacts. And don't worry, there will be flashbacks to help better understand Siarra at particular moments during the game's main events, if that makes sense. Also, I will include her journey through the Dawnguard quests once I've gotten it and played it. So yeah Read and enjoy.
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