» Wed May 02, 2012 8:38 pm Chapter 1
Pretty Girls with Swords
Skyrim’s cold air filtered down through the crowd, nipping at my face as I forced myself through the large crowd of people. Men and Mer of all kinds milled about the plaza, purchasing worthless trinkets and foodstuffs from vendors, and gossiping feverously with one another. Fat fingered merchants advertised their wares with bellowing shouts, and fortune-telling gypsies weaved destinies at the whim of some fool’s purse. I, however, was not interested in any of these distractions that Riften’s marketplace offered.
After pushing through the crowd, and receiving several disrespectful shoves from impatient shoppers, I had finally emerged from the plaza alive, with my purse intact. I crossed the wooden bridge that spanned the canol, a long, putrid waterway that flowed through the center of Riften, providing a place for foreign merchants to dock their ships. The streets on this side of the river were lined with pretentious mansions and houses, crafted from articulate wood and ancient granite, giving them a very stately look. The homes bellow that lined the canol, however, were just grimy holes in the wall, fashioned from abandoned sections of Riften’s sewers.
I ducked into a narrow side alley, with foliage overgrowing the cobbled path and brick walls, continuing my walk. The alley emerged into an open area between the mansions and the city’s towering stone wall. There were not streets here, just unkempt grass and some minor shrubbery. Another breeze blew through the city, ruffling my shoulder-length hair, causing me to pull my duster more closely around my body to retain heat. I traveled through this area in near seclusion, as people rarely traversed the area, until I emerged into the graveyard behind the temple of Mara.
The graveyard was a large, peaceful area, with old, crumbling gravestones, gardens of Lavender and Nightshade, as well as a few small mausoleums constructed of fine marble. I took a seat on a nearby bench, and closed my eyes, wondering how I was going to pay my rent, when a felt a presence nearby. My eyes snapped open, bringing a woman into my vision.
No, it isn’t right to call her a woman. Perhaps the term “angel”, or “goddess” would suffice. Standing at five foot six, with long stands of wispy brown hair framed a face that had the complexion of buttermilk, and with eyes so deep and blue that I felt like I was tumbling into the depths of the ocean, she smiled at me playfully. She was muscular, the curves of her body gracefully defined, but no so sinewy that it was unattractive. A tight fitting leather jerkin was clad on her body, with the sigil of The Rift embroiled onto the shoulder pads. A broadsword swung loosely from her hip, almost ruining her pristine visage of purity. Almost.
“Hello there” she said as she took a seat next to me on the bench, her voice rich with a Nordic accent, revealing her to be one of Skyrim’s natural inhabitants. I faintly smelled the scent of snowberries, not too much to envelop me, but just enough to make me what to lean closer and smell more of it.
“Well hi” I replied, turning towards her general direction, as well as scooting ever so slightly away from her. I have learned- the hard way, mind you, to keep my distance from people, especially from people with broadswords. Especially from beautiful Nord women with broadswords. During my career as a bounty hunter and private detective for hire, I have made many, many enemies. Everyone from two-bit crime lords and drug dealers to insane Necromancers want my head on a plate after I screwed them the wrong way, and I had no idea if this woman/goddess was a lacky of said enemies. In addition to being on a lot of bad people’s bad side, and I a Mer, or more commonly known as a High Elf. Not many Nords like High Elves, for obvious reasons, and I have gotten in many fights over the issue of my race.
“You are Valmir Aunde, correct?” she asked, a shade of curiosity assuming control of her features. I didn’t think it was possible, but it made her look twice as gorgeous.
“I am indeed” I said. “Who is inquiring?” I asked, hoping that my fear was masked well enough. Classy men don’t look scared in front of pretty girls.
Her smile morphed into a smirk. “I am, or more specifically, the Jarl is.” If she sensed my fear, she didn’t show it.
Relief flooded over me. If this woman one of the Jarl’s new attendants or whoever the nobility employed, then I shouldn’t have anything to fear from her. My tense muscles relaxed just a bit- but I was still wary of this woman, and aware that she could be lying to me. After all, I knew most of the Jarl’s housecarls and stewards, and this woman was unfamiliar. “And what would Laila like from me today?”
“I was told to give you this” she said, producing a piece of sealed parchment. “And tell you to arrive in milady’s court this evening for a job of utmost importance.”
My smirk matched her own as I took the paper from her hands. So Laila has needed use of my services once more, eh? Well, this certainly solved my rent problems, and since the Jarl would be the one paying me, I would probably end up with a bit of extra coin as well. “Well, thank you, miss…?”
“You may call me Siri” the woman replied, her eyes twinkling with sudden excitement. “The Jarl has told me that she contacts you often.”
“That she does” I said. Jarl Laila-Law-Bringer hired me occasionally to deal with your common banditry, drug dealers, and paranormal investigation. Nothing major, just enough to buy essentials and pay my landlord. I was surprised that Laila, your normal Talos loving anti-thalmor would tolerate, and even pay a Mer such as myself. “Let her know I’ll be there” I said, rising from the bench, my financial problems seeming to dissolve before my eyes. “And nice to meet you, Siri.”
“I shall. And it was nice to meet you as well, Valmir” replied the Nord as she rose from the bench as well. “I am disappointed that the Jarl never told me how handsome you are” she said with a playful wink before striding from the garden.
I felt my face turn red and my anger flared, but I held my tongue. I didn’t like being played by women. Especially pretty women. Pretty women with swords. Whatever, I wouldn’t let pretty girls distract me anymore. Tearing the wax seal on the parchment Siri had given me, I unfolded the paper, and read its contents thrice. Even to this day, I have its contents memorized, because that’s just how my brain works.
Valmir, son of clan Audne, I, Jarl Laila-Law-Bringer request your presence in the hall of Mistveil Keep this evening to discuss a [well-paying] contract that is of utmost importance to the security of the Rift, and that of Skyrim itself. Prepare yourself, time is short.
You would have thought that such a vague, forbidding message would have set off mental alarms then and caused me to stay home. Well, I wish it would have.
I saved a lot of character development and such for the second chapter, including a bit of past, why he isnt a haughty bastard, and his combat abilities. I honestly didnt think I adhered to the game very much, such as with the description with his walk- those places actually are not like I described them in-game. Just wait till he starts fighting- thats when I really change things up. Thanks for the review! Shall keep the tips in mind 
