The Great War-A Skyrim Fanfiction-Book One

Chapter One

Years Later

Talen-Glim opened his eyes as the cool morning light struck his face. His muddy green scales and spine almost glittered as he slowly sat up, trying not to gag at the rancid smells that struck his palate like a hammer and a nail. He tried to recall what had made that smell, but couldn't. Or, at least, until he saw his surroundings. He was in the tent he and his friend often spent nights at. Littered around him were at least a dozen empty bottles of alto wine, and the very rare Black-Briar Reserve, which Herrag-Shei had stolen from a rich couple visiting the nearby city of Windhelm.

Talen hardly remembered when Windhelm wasn't a place people visited. He had heard stories of a time at least a decade ago that it was the center for a revolution, and between that, the murders that took place, and the many illegal things that went on in the Grey Quarter, home to some of the sketchiest Dark Elves in all of Tamriel, it wasn't a place anyone wanted to go. But by the time Talen migrated to Skyrim, nearly a decade ago, peace had returned and the city became a thriving place, with it's dark past behind it.

Talen-Glim wobbily stood up. He was tall for an Argonian, and quite strong. Looking around, he noticed the body of Herrag-Shei lying in a crumpled heap, snoring, one hand still clutching a half-full bottle of wine. He smiled, thinking of all the fun nights of drinking and the awful hangovers that followed that he had shared with him.

Slowly stumbling outside, Talen was struck by a gust of wind. Finally noticing how cold it was, he walked over to the remains of last night's fire. He hurriedly collected some wood from a pile nearby and found the flint that was always by the firepit. After setting up the fire, he struck the flint to a nearby stone, creating enough sparks to light the fire. At this point,  he wished he had fire magic. The cold was painful, even to his thick hide, and the fire was taking forever to get going.

Waiting, Talen noticed a large pile of vomit, half-dried. A few flies clustered around it, clearly interested in it becoming their breakfast. He was quite disgusted by this sight and threw a log over it, trying to cover it up.

Finally, the fire was warm, and Talen stood around it, holding his hands over it. He then remembered that he had a sabre cat pelt tied to his waist, and wrapped the waterproof skin around him, which made him feel much better.

He walked over to the river and sat down on the hard stones by the riverbed. The water here was always warmer than the rest of the river, and never frozen. He ran his fingers through the cool water, thinking of how good it would feel to go for a swim, but he knew the water here wasn't deep enough to go fully underwater. He settled for taking scoops of it with his hands and pouring the water over his face. It felt wonderful, the perfect combination of cool and refreshing that made him love being an Argonian so much.

He scanned the riverbed around him, setting his eyes on a wide stone covered with claw marks. When he was a child, he had visited this spot, and marked it just in case he ever returned. When he moved to Windhelm due to the conflict in Black Marsh as a result of the Thalmor influence, he scoured the river nearby until he found the stone. Surprisingly, it was still marked. As he revisited the spot and eventually set up a camp, he always left a mark each time he was there. Now, the stone was covered in them, and little space was left. Regardless, Talen ejected the claw on his pointer finger and slowly etched another mark in.

"You're already up?" came a voice from behind him. "I expected you to be out until at least noon, the way you drained that Reserve!"

Talen turned around to see Herrag-Shei passing through the flap on the tent, a pelt already on him. As he walked over to the fire, he noticed the vomit underneath the log and made a face. In the light of the fire, he looked very tired, and Talen noticed his left hand was shaking violently. He disregarded this, as he always had this reaction to drink, and always recovered swiftly.