My Random Skyrim Stories

Sword and Shield (Argis) 1

(Argis the Bulwark is one of my favorite housecarls, but there's so little backstory on him I've never written a story with him before...
But I made an observation on my current play-through that got me actually brainstorming on Argis.
I'm well aware that the game developers probably just used the same character models for certain unrelated characters for simplicity sake, but it gives me story fodder.
Enjoy!)

Markarth was a cold, hard, corrupt city in Argis's opinion. Everything was stone or metal— even the beds were made of stone. He'd gotten used to it, but he couldn't say he liked it.

Despite having to say he was from Markarth, Argis had spent most of his youth in a smaller village out in the Reach where he'd at least had straw-piles to sleep on.

His mother was a priestess of Dibella who apparently didn't have time for a baby boy, and hadn't kept track of who Argis's father was, so Argis had been taken in by his uncle. Argis figured that had turned out for the better for him— and likely for his uncle too.

His Uncle Asgald had been a fearsome warrior in the Great War and worked as a sell-sword after the war. He didn't seem to approve much of his little sister's life choices and volunteered to take Argis as soon as he was weened and walking.

Becoming a surrogate father seemed to put new life in Asgald. He continued his work as a mercenary, but slacked up on his drinking and actually began seeing meaning in life again.

He was fiercely protective of Argis... but that didn't mean he sheltered him— he trained him. Argis learned to fight as soon as he was old enough to hold his uncle's dagger. By the time he was a teenager he'd been in several skirmishes with the Foresworn.

Who ever his father was, Argis could guess he must have been a big man, certainly a Nord, and likely with blond hair. Argis had gotten his mother's amber eyes, but not her red hair or petite stature. By the time Argis was fifteen he was as tall as his uncle and well on his way to being just as broad in the chest and shoulders.

He was nineteen when he earned himself the name 'The Bulwark'. He and Asgald had been hired to guard a merchant caravan traveling through the Reach, when they stumbled across a group of Forsworn. And not just a simple group of them— a large band, with two briar-hearts and a hag-raven.

Argis nearly lost his eye to the hag-raven, but despite the injury, he had continued fighting, bested the hag-raven, and held off the remainder of the Foresworn— defending the caravan until his uncle bested the briar-hearts and was able to back him up.

Asgald was so proud of him, he bought Argis his own warpaint stencil after that. Argis decided the dark red paint balanced the scars on his face well enough, and he was soon beginning to look as fearsome as his uncle.

Eventually, Asgald had killed enough Foresworn and rescued enough merchants that the Jarl of Markarth had named him a Thane and Argis volunteered to be sworn in as his housecarl.

That was when Argis really got to know the city of Markarth— living in it instead of simply stopping in to buy or sell goods or to visit his mother... he wasn't horribly impressed. But, as his uncle pointed out, their home built into the mountain there, was probably the most defensible place they'd ever lived.

It wasn't long after Asgald was named Thane and purchased a home that he officially retired. Argis missed traveling through the Reach with him, as his housecarl duties became much more domestic— tending the house, cooking their meals. Argis didn't mind though, he loved his uncle like a father, and it was an honor to take care of him.

But it soon became apparent that retirement had not been good for Asgald. His health began to fail as he stayed home and quit working. After only a few years of peace and quiet, it became obvious that Asgald was simply dying. It was difficult— caring for a loved one at the end of his life... seeing a once strong, proud man become weak and feeble... but Argis stayed with him until the end.

After Asgald's passing Argis mostly kept to himself. He wasn't really sure what to do. His mother actually came to visit him for once, but that didn't really help. She started giving him suggestions for all the lovely things he could do with the home and offered to have the place blessed and dedicated to Dibella.

Argis had long ago decided that the divine of beauty wasn't exactly the one for him— not with his face. Not to mention, Asgald's distaste for the temple had pretty well rubbed off on him over the years. Of course, he'd never been able to bring himself to tell his mother any of that though.

He eventually decided he had no interest in owning the home himself and simply sold the property back to the Jarl.

He tried going back to life as a sell-sword, but, even though he was still perfectly competent, no one wanted to hire a one-eyed mercenary. He could still see shadows and vague shapes with his bad eye, and he'd learned how to hone in with his hearing to compensate for his diminished field of view. If he'd been suave and talkative like some of the other sell-swords in town, he might have been able to convince someone of that, but Argis was more of a fighter than a talker.

He took the occasional bounty from the Jarl's steward, just to keep himself fed and not just burn through his entire inheritance, but after a couple of years everything just began to feel lonely and meaningless. So when the Jarl asked if he'd be interested in serving as housecarl to a new Thane, Argis didn't see any reason to refuse.

The new Thane had apparently even purchased his uncle's old property...