Jaeger: Chapter Seventeen: Heljarchen Creek


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    Strong as the Bear
    Swift as the Stag
    Silent as the Wolf
    True as the Eagle
    Such is the way of a Jaeger

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    In The Midst of the Snowy Tundras of The Pale
    Wulf and his companions are making their way to Windhelm

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    I strode through the freshly fallen snow that blanketed the ground like a coat of white. My boots crushed the white powder underfoot, and as a result, left my feet soaking. I looked around. Aela walked at the front of the group, her bow slung across her shoulder so she could draw it at a moment's notice. Fenrir walked behind me, talking pointlessly to Tovasi. Fenrir's dark fur robes were drenched, and you could see the ice as it froze on the fur collar of his black cloak. Tovasi was the best off. He simply had wrapped a cloak of living fire around him, twisting and turning his hands in intricate patterns. The red tongues of heat licked at the cold air, and melted the snow around Tovasi's simple leather travelling boots. He grinned smugly as I looked envyingly at him. We had been trudging through the snow-capped tundra's of the Pale. Aela had set our course for Heljarchen Creek, a small village on the bank of the Yogrim River, about a day's walk from Windhelm, our final destination. From thereon, we would stop and rent rooms at the local inn, and after that, we would make haste to Windhelm. According to Aela, Heljarchen Creek was three hour's walk from our current location. The snow began pelting down on us, and I was grateful for my thick fur to keep me warm as I continued traversing the deep powdery snow. 

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    Outside the Small Village of Heljarchen Creek
    A small village holed up in The Pale

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    We arrived at a small wooden gate made out of logs, with a large stone tower adorned with golden ornaments and symbols.  Two men wearing leather armor with light blue, almost white sashes slung across their chests, stood guard. They carried bows, and shortswords ready in leather sheaths. They wore no helmets. Aela approached first, and I followed her, a torch in my hand. The guard in front spoke first. She had short, dark hair that barely reached her ears, and piercing blue eyes. 'Welcome to Heljarchen Creek, strangers. What can I do for you?' She spoke with a harsh northern accent, as if she was raised up in the harsh mountains of Eastmarch. I answered. 'We seek food and bed for the night. Does this fine little village possess an inn, or failing that, a tavern?' The woman laughed heartily. 'Aye, we have an inn! The finest in all of Skyrim! The Nightgate Inn, owned by Hadring. You'll find it just directly down the road, next to the creek our town is named after.' I thanked the guard, and he turned next to him, pulling a golden lever that led to the woodenset gates opening up with a creak. The guard waved us through, and we strode inside the little village of wood and stone.

     

     

    The town was mostly constructed out of small wooden homes with thatched roofing and stone walls. People lounged on small chairs that had been set up on the balconies and porches of larger houses. Strange, stone towers soared high into the sky, golden ornings and artifacts built in with the grey rocks that made up the pillars. They seemed to be of a strange architecture, almost Dwemer in origin, as well as small gizmos made of the same golden metal, and in the same shape as the lever near the gate. Snow lay in blankets on the roofs of the huts, as well as covering the small walkways and roads through the village. As we strode through the small town, and I couldn't help feeling a connection to the little snow-covered settlement. Aela directed us down the snowy white path, and after a minute of strolling, we arrived at a large wooden building made out of planks and thatch. A small sign hung from a wooden pole that read - 'The Nightgate Inn.' I turned to my side, and a large stone gate with the same golden incatracies inset into it against the stone. It was built over a small wooden jetty with a thatched roof that led out over the lake that the guard had mentioned - Heljarchen Creek - and a fishing rod was hapharzadly lain across the jetty. I felt a voice in my head. Nice little town, isn't it? I agreed with Paws. It was a gorgeous little town. Aela nodded to me, and our little fellowship pushed open the wooden door and entered the tavern.

     

     

    The small tavern opened up to reveal a wooden main hall, with benches built outwards from the walls on each side. People sat on the benches, laughing and drinking from metal tankards. A bar was built up the front, and an old man with a grizzled grey beard occupied the bar. He wore a simple white shirt, and brown pants. A tablecloth hung from his belt, and he was shining a tankard in his hands. He had dark, grey eyes and a stormy look in them. Aela looked for a spare bench, and after around a minute of searching, located one next to an open doorway, that I assumed led into a bedroom. We sat down, and Fenrir went up to order. A minute later, he came back with a tray laden with four tankards of Honningbrew Mead, and slabs of meat that looked like cow or goat. Fenrir sat down, helping himself to some ale. He slipped it down his throat, mumbling happily as he swallowed the meat. I nibbled at the meat, not enjoying the taste. But the mead was excellent. Better than anything I'd had in the Guardhouse up in Solitude, that much was true. I surveyed our surroundings. Sitting next to me was Aela, and Paws on the floor curled up in a ball. On the other side, Tovasi and Fenrir. On the closest bench next to us, an Argonian with bright purple markings and purple feathers pluming from the back of his grey head. He had light grey scales coating his entire body, and grey leather armour with pouches and straps that exposed his scaly arms. The leather armor continued down his legs, and he wore similar leather boots that concealed his clawed feet. His eyes flitted across the inn eratically, flying from object to person to object to person. He had the look of an insane man whose mind had broken down long ago. His belt was fitted with an enormously large number of vials filled with randomly coloured liquids that didn't look healthy to ingest, but the Argonian simply reached for one, popped the little leather lid off, and poured a green liquid into his tankard. He then promptly swallowed it, and his eyes went even wilder. Concerned for his health, I reached over and tapped his shoulder. 'You're okay, right?' The Argonian looked at me, and shrugged. 
    'Fine. Want some?' He hefted a little red vial over to me, lifting it under my nose. I shook my head, answering the question. 'No, thanks.' The Argonian shrugged. 'Never mind. It's just a potion, s' all.' I didn't really want to be drinking any potions, I thought to myself. The Argonian shot out his clawed hand, and motioned for me to shake it. I had a strange feeling I would become well aquainted with this strange Argonian ...

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    Your's truly, Wulf

     

Comments

1 Comment   |   Paws and 2 others like this.
  • Paws
    Paws   ·  August 8
    I read before sleep. First intro to your new build character, nice!