Reminiscence
Fenora breathed heavily and pressed her back up against the rotted stump of an ancient tree, the only cover she could find. Blood made a steady trickle down one of her arms; the limb itself had been torn open to the point of being useless dead weight. She had the means to patch it up... maybe, but there was no time to do it. Her breathing quickened, and her left hand tightened on her sword with what strength she hadn’t lost.
An explosion sounded out, followed by the crackle of flame. It was close, but not close to her.
She rotated her head against the dead wood and spotted Lydia and Stross. Her housecarl was unconscious, her armor charred and blackened from a direct hit. Stross meanwhile was doing his best to stabilize her with his healing, even as more balls of flaming death landed all around them.
She had to take some of that heat off of them, or better yet, kill the cursed abomination responsible for all this.
“Fus r- oh fuck me!”
Fenora had barely jumped back to safety before a massive fireball landed where she had been standing, and even still the fire splashed outward and washed over her feet.
“You killed my disciples!” the Hagraven screeched as she readied another round of fireballs. “Only I get to kill my disciples!”
The stump Fenora hid behind exploded into wooden shrapnel, and she fell to the ground covering her head with her only functioning arm.
Out in the open and a prime target now, Fenora knew she’d be easy to hit if she fled. Each direction she could run was the worst direction. So she figured the best worst place to run was straight at the bird-witch.
Not a great idea. But really, better options weren’t a thing she had at the moment.
“Wuld… nah kest!” her thu’um ended with a thunderous crack.
A fallen tree served as a bridge to the hagraven’s nest, and Fenora threw herself across it with reckless abandon, hoping at least to draw attention away from her friends.
The Hagraven turned to face her, and Fenora pivoted on her heel as she swung her sword at the creature to put as much force behind the blow as she could.
Strangely enough, in this moment before bloody impact, Fenora took a second to remember how she got in this situation in the first place.
...
While they were making their way back to Whiterun, Stross told them about a place called Orphan Rock that was on the way, and suggested that they check it out. She hadn’t thought too much of it at the time, and the only resistance they encountered along the way were a couple witches that attacked them on sight. Their spells were pretty weak, and their black mage robes offered next to zero protection against arrows and swords, and so they crumpled like a tower of homemade biscuits.
Things got tougher when they actually made it to Orphan Rock. Like... twelve-day-old homemade biscuit levels of tough.
It was there that they first laid eyes on the Hagraven; the lanky, twisted creature that was neither bird nor woman, but something horrible that lay in between. Until then, Fenora had only heard old stories about the witches who had sacrificed their humanity in exchange for unspeakable power, warping their bodies and minds in the process. Now she and her friends were on the losing side of a life and death struggle with one of the wretched creatures.
And for what?! Because a group of drug-dealing, plutomanic women in Whiterun were abusing a holy tree for their own gain and accidentally killed it, and because Stross decided to help them cover their stupid butts when he should have told them to sort out their own shit?!
Okay… maybe Fenora was being a little unkind with her thoughts.
On the other hand, she’d probably earned the right.
...
The hagraven met her head-on assault, locking her blade in her razor sharp talons. With her free hand the Hagraven started clawing at Fenora while the elf was struggling to get her sword free.
After tearing open her sides enough, the Hagraven switched targets and started raking her talons across Fenora's face.
“OW! Fuck you too…” Fenora hissed through her teeth, through the pain of having her flesh rent. “Fus Ro DAH!”
The shockwave slammed into the hagraven sent it tumbling like a ragdoll, and Fenora thanked every one of the gods that she was dragonborn.
She was still bleeding, and her vision was obscured by a trickle of blood dripping down her face, but she could still see her target and swing a sword at it. The dwarven greatsword was heavy with only one arm, but when she threw all her weight and momentum into it, and the tip of her blade sliced across the hagraven’s chest with an artful spray of deep crimson.
The bird witch was far from done though. Leaping to a safe distance, her talons began to glow with a healing magic Fenora was all too familiar with, and in seconds the mortal wound she’d dealt was closed.
The healing ribbons of gold in her clawed hands were replaced with flames, and Fenora grit her teeth, knowing that this was a losing battle. Willpower alone couldn’t keep back the effects of blood loss; her vision obscured more, and she began to feel weak, too weak to stay standing even.
As she fell to a knee, Fenora thought she was done for, when suddenly an orange bolt hit the hagraven and the bird-witch fell to the ground, stiff and motionless.
Stross had just given her the chance she needed, and she wasn’t going to waste it! Fenora hobbled over the hagraven’s prone, defenseless form as fast as her injuries would let her and plunged her sword through the creature’s chest, again and again and again until she was certain it wouldn’t get up.
With the hagraven's top half removed from her bottom half, and the inbetweens a pile of giblets, Fenora breathed a sore and painful sigh of relief and fell to her knees again, using the blade of her sword to keep her steady, for as much as that was worth.
“Fen!” she heard Stross’s voice calling to her from a million miles away.
“Fen!” She felt him hug her shoulders a second later. Then she felt him flinch and with the greatest of care, lower her onto her back. It didn’t really matter though, the soreness and debilitating pain was slowly fading away on its own.
She turned her head so face him, blinking the redness out of her eyes. “So…” she began, her voice weaker than she thought it would be. “Be honest with me Stross. Am I still gonna be pretty when this heals?”
Fenora chuckled at her own humor, but the effect seemed to be lost on Stross with his fearful, worried eyes. But she just kept on laughing until all feeling fled from her, and the blackness swallowed her up.
Fenora was swimming in darkness until her eyes fluttered open and she peeled the bandage off her face. Her body was aching and sore, but remarkably alive. The first thing she noticed was the hard wood floor she was lying on. The next thing she noticed was her changeling tackle-hugging her.
“Fen! You're alive!" he cried while rubbing his face into hers. "I was so worried!”
"I'm guessing you're to thank for that." she smiled and nuzzled his cheek. "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Fenora pushed herself to her feet, and managed to stand. “Where are we?” she asked as she looked around. They were in some demolished wooden building that might have been an inn, or maybe someone’s house. Scorched timbers and wreckage lay everywhere, and it looked like a spot needed to be cleared just for her to lay on.
“We’re back in Helgen.”
The second Stross told her that, she felt… uneasy. That was probably the best word for it.
“It was the only place we could get out of the rain.” Stross continued, “I didn’t want to move you after that last fight; you were really torn up.”
“How bad was it?” Fenora bothered to ask, and checked over herself; her clothes were nearly in shreds in some places, but overall, she was fine. She had come to know Stross to be an overreactor, but she guessed it couldn’t hurt to know how close she came to-
“You almost bled out, twice.” Stross said, looking ashamed of all things. “Your whole side was all open and your guts were hanging out everywhere… and your face was…” the changeling traced a finger from her forehead to her chin along a line that no longer existed. “I’m glad I was able to save your eyes.”
Fenora could only stand there for a second. Finally she shook her head at herself. Yet again she'd gotten in over her head, and she would have died if Stross hadn't been there. “Stross,“ she began, wondering what to say to him, "I'm sorr-"
“I’M SORRY!” Stross cried and hugged her tightly.
“Stross?” Fenora gasped in shock. "What are you sorry for? You're the one that saved me, not the other way around."
“It was all my fault you got hurt like that in the first place. I wanted to help a bunch of people I’d never even met before, and I almost got you and Lydia killed just to get some stupid magic knife!”
Fenora couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“Stross, listen... It’s alright.” She said, returning the hug. “It was a bad fight, and we were outmatched. We'll just have to be more careful the next time. So next time we have to fetch a thing from a place where the monsters all hit like runaway merchant caravans, and can take just as many hits as one, we just have to be prepared so we don't get our butts handed to us.”
“*sniff* Okay, I guess that makes sense.” Stross nodded. "So you're not mad at me?"
Fenora lightly punched his shoulder. "Come on. Who could be mad at an adorable little changeling like you?"
"You'd be surprised." Stross chuckled dryly. "So... now that you can walk again... ready to go?"
“Yeah… after you.” Fenora said, looking out into the ruins of a once lively and prosperous town, smelling the charred wood a bit more clearly. “...After you.”
Fen and Stross met up with Lydia outside the broken house, and the three started picking their way through the rest of the ruined town to the other side. It was easier said than done.
Most of the roads were blocked by the scattered remains of homes, though it wasn't so much hard to get past, as it was disturbing to see. It had been days since the town of Helgen had been destroyed, yet in some places the fires still burned as brightly as the day they were started; not even the prior rains could quench them as they burned with the same undying hatred of their master. Adding the fact that the charred bodies of those killed by Alduin’s arrival remained where they had fallen didn't help any. Between the ash and bodies, the whole town stank of fire and death, and it weighed heavily on the heroes.
Nothing, not even rats dared to come near the place.
As the three continued picking their way through the labyrinth of debris, cutting through yet another destroyed house to get around a fallen guard tower. Stross had to look away when he saw the body of a father trying to shield his two children; they had been trapped under the roof when it caved it, crushing them to death. It was but one of many morbid scenes he’d encountered in the town.
“Why did I choose to cut through here? This is horrible.” He muttered.
It was then that he turned to see Fenora looking at the murdered family, seemingly distant.
“Fen?” he called, but got no answer. “Fenora!”
She blinked and came back to herself. “Huh? I’m-I'm right behind you.”
Stross opened his emotion sense as she walked past, and unlike her normal cool-grey calmness, Fenora was a twisting spectrum of guilt and pain.
“Are you okay Fen?” he asked carefully.
“Yeah… I’m fine.”
She was definitely not fine.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Fenora insisted.
Her footsteps came to a grinding halt when Stross hugged onto her like a really concerned restraining device. “Tell me.” he pleaded.
Fenora sighed. “You’re not going to stop until I tell you, are you?”
“Nu-uh.”
Fenora started by prying him off. Even if Stross came off as annoying, she couldn’t be mad at him, because she could tell he was just worried about her.
“This is another of those ‘don’t tell anyone else about this’ things. So don’t tell anyone else.” Fenora said, and once Stross nodded his compliance, and Lydia swore the same, she began in the best place she could think. “Did I ever tell you how my parents died?”
“Gimme a sec…” Stross said, pulled out a bottle of alto wine, and took a big gulp only to spit it out in shock. “WHAT?! Your parents are dead!?”
“My parents are deeaaaaaaad!” Fenora yelled, fighting the strange urge to slap him.
“Holy superhero cliche, my thanes!” Lydia shouted.
"Wha- that's not-" Stross sputtered. "How?"
Fenora glared into the distance and uttered one word. "Bandits."
===(years ago)===
A bosmer girl crawled as fast as she could through the covered spaces under the houses. Through the floorboards she could hear the stomping and frenzied screams of her neighbors and friends.
I was barely twelve. The town I lived in must have had over fifty people living in it, but most were farmers and old retired soldiers.
A bandit tribe we’d never even heard of stormed through one day. They were nearly a hundred strong, and knew that no one would be able to stand in their way.
So they took what they pleased, took what they wanted, and killed everyone they could find.
The front door of one house was slammed open and a man was thrown out onto the street, begging for his life. His pleas did him no good, and his life was callously ended on the tip of a sword.
My parents… gods bless them and their crazy souls. The second they heard the screaming they told me to hide, to get away from town as fast as I could. Then Trey grabbed his mace, and mom took her trusty kitchen knife, and the two of them walked out into the fray.
Does anyone remember the saying "respect your elders"? Those bandit scumbags sure didn't, and it cost them. Trey and Elaura knew the town well, and they had each other. I was there to watch it, hiding on the thatched roof of our house.
It was amazing. A blind elf woman, and an old man with metal stumps for limbs managed to kill a third of their clan, including their four elite warriors. They worked together so flawlessly it was like watching the two of them dancing, but with bodies falling at their feet. I had never been so proud of them before in my life... and I would never get the chance to again.
In the end they had lost each other in the middle fight, gotten separated. Their chief didn’t take to kindly to their defiance. His clan of warriors getting slaughtered by two old cripples? It was probably the worst insult he’d received in a long time. So he dragged them in front of everyone still alive and… he beat my parents to death with nothing but his fists!
I shouldn’t have watched it. I don't even think I wanted to, and even now I wish that I hadn’t. But I just couldn’t look away.
There was nothing I could have done for them but run. I had to escape and live... for them. But my thoughts turned to Vennik. I’d just lost my parents. I wasn’t about to lose my best friend too.
With the rest of the crawlspace blocked by a rapidly spreading fire, Fenora crawled out from under the house and ran through the open as fast as she could. Just in time she spotted a trio of bandits, armed and full of muscle heading her way, and hid behind a cart full of vegetables that had been set on fire. They walked right past her, not bothering to look over their shoulders, or even down at their feet while they trodded on the dead; they had far better things on their minds.
She chanced a look at them, and saw the bags each of them carried on their backs, practically bulging with gold and other valuables. They exchanged hearty laughs and bloodthirsty grins, poking jabs at each other over who had plundered the most.
It didn’t matter what they’d taken as long as it wasn’t the life of her friend.
I ran as fast as I could to where Vennik lived. He was an Argonian, and his family was poorer than most, so they lived in a bunkhouse on the edge of town. Unfortunately, that didn’t make them any less of a target.
Fenora felt her legs aching from the exertion, but she kept running, hoping with all she could muster that her friend was still alive. Her heart sank when she saw the bunkhouse burning. Torches had been tossed onto the thatched roof, and the whole two-story building was quickly going up in smoke.
Her hopes changed however, when she heard the familiar sound of Vennik screaming. She took off without delay, and found the argonian boy pounding his fists against a burning door, futilely trying to get it open.
Vennik was okay, but his family was trapped inside. Rather than just kill them, the bandits thought it would be funny to trap them and the other workers, light the place, and let them burn.
I don’t know if they were still alive in there or not by the time I arrived, but I knew that just the two of us couldn’t save them, and if we stayed any longer, we would risk getting caught and killed like everyone else. So I grabbed his hand and pulled him away. He kicked and screamed fought against me as I begged him to just run, to escape with me, convince him there was nothing we could do.
===(back in the present)===
“As far as I know, the two of us were the only ones who made it out that day. I still don’t think he ever forgave me for dragging him away like that.” Fenora finished her story with one last note. “I'll still remember him screaming at me with tears pouring down his face, ‘Fenora, how could you just leave them like that? We were there, and you just ran away and left them all to burn.'”
Stross suddenly remembered the words he used to get Fenora to stay and defend Skyrim, and felt a lump form in his gut.
“Fenora, I’m… I’m sorry.” He told her, but she shook her head.
“No. Vennik was right. I should have stayed and tried to do something… anything. But I wasn’t strong enough.” Fenora said sadly, but turned her gaze skyward with hardened resolve. “But that’s never going to happen again. I’m a god damned Dragonborn now. I've got a job to do here." she pointed to the ruins around them, "I'm going to make sure this never happens again. This time I... This time I won’t have to run.”
“And I’ll stay with you so you won’t have to do it alone.” Stross said confidently.
“As will I, my thane.”
Fenora smiled. “These dragons aren’t going to know what hit them.”
Riverwood was much as they had left it last, something they were all glad for.
Gerdur was passing by, and joined them while they walked through the center of town. “Welcome back friends. It’s good to see you’re well. We’re in debt to you for all your help. Just this morning some of the Jarl's men arrived to keep watch over the town, and with the bandits cleared from the barrow they can keep their eyes towards the sky. Ah, but I’m rambling now. How are you; you look quite haggard.”
“Well, I got torn to ribbons by a hagraven while looking for some magic knife to save a tree back in Whiterun. But Stross was able to heal me before I died.” Fenora told her bluntly, to which Gerdur looked deeply disturbed. “Hey, is Lucan open? I’ve got some stuff he might be interested in trading for.”
“Oh… why yes, I believe he and Camilla were bickering over something again.” Gerdur told her, shaking off her earlier comment.
“Great. Thanks.” Fenora took her housecarl and turned to the Riverwood Trader. “Oh, and… it’s good to see you again too.”
Finding himself alone with Gerdur, Stross decided to get a bit more info on what all was happening as they walked. Coercing information was an art form that any changeling worth their scale was a master at. The trick was in keeping things light, while getting everything you needed to know. Stross decided to start with a bit of humor this time.
“So, I’m glad to see nothing big and fire-breathing has attacked since we left.” he said with a chuckle, though judging by how Gerdur tensed up, it was probably in poor taste.
"As am I." Gerdur let out a long drawn sigh, her normally calm and enduring attitude fading for that moment. “Honestly, when you came running into town with Hadvar and Ralof acting like the world was on fire, I scarcely believed what I was hearing. And I can’t speak for others, but I don’t think that they wanted to believe it either. I can't imagine anyone wants to be told the world is ending.”
Gerdur paused in her steps. “And in the midst of it all, we’ve got a civil war going on. If the damned dragons weren’t bad enough, we’re killing each other over a stupid age old squabble with the elves. No offence.”
Stross realized she was talking about his disguised form, and shrugged. “None taken. What happened to Hadvar and Ralof anyway?”
“I tried to get them to stay, tried to convince them that fighting a war was foolish when there are dragons on the loose.” She shook her head. “But they just wouldn’t hear any of it. As soon as they were able to stand, they went their separate ways; Ralof went back to the Stormcloaks in Windhelm, while Hadvar regrouped with the Legion in Solitude.”
Stross felt his magic map tingle, and unfurled it to see two new markers for the cities on each end.
“What’s the war about anyway? I don’t exactly come from Skyrim.” Stross asked.
“It's something to do with the war between the Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion. I don’t know all the details. I’ve got enough to deal with already when it comes to running the mill.” Gerdur told him. “From what I gathered from Ralof's ranting, the war between the Empire and the Thalmor led to the worship of Talos being banned, as part of a treaty. Ulfric Stromcloak was there when it happened, and decided he wouldn’t allow nord beliefs to be destroyed, nor support an empire that would allow such a thing. The civil war was what resulted.”
“Right, note to self; go to Ulfric and tell him to knock it off ‘till Alduin’s gone.” Stross mumbled to himself.
“I wish you luck if you do.” Gerdur said, having overheard him. “This war has brought nothing but misery in the first place.”
“Thanks. By the way, where are those guards you mentioned; I didn’t see them on the way in. Are they out scouting somewhere?” Stross asked, looking around the town interior. Guards were hardly the sneaky type after all.
“Gods, those two are probably getting drunk at the inn again. But I’ve got to get back to the mill. It was good to see you and Fenora, take care in your travels.” Gerdur told him and wandered off to get back to work. "Hopefully a lot more care."
“Two?” Stross wondered if he’d heard her right and wandered towards the Sleeping Giant Inn. “…Only two?”
Fenora and Lydia exited the Riverwood Trader, a bit disappointed at the amount of stuff they still had to carry around with them, but they knew Lucan only had so much gold to trade with.
On their way out of town, they found Stross slumped on a bench outside of the inn.
“Hey Stross, let’s get moving.” Fenora called to him.
“Fenora, we’ve got a problem.” Stross said as he joined them. He kept his voice down to a hoarse whisper, not wanting anyone else to overhear. “Balgruuf only sent two measly guards to protect this place, and all they’ve been doing is sitting around drinking mead! That dragon back at the watchtower wiped out all of Irileth’s men like it was nothing. What the heck is Riverwood going to do with just two?!”
Fenora frowned. “All the more reason for me to finish my training, and stop Alduin as soon as possible.”
Unless she could magically create people out of thin air, there was nothing else she could do to ensure people weren’t going to die. The best chance now was to cut the head off the snake, and hope the body died.
“I don’t want anyone else to die Fen. Without Equestria, Skyrim is all I have left.” Stross told her sadly. “We have to save it, for everyone.”
“I know Stross… I know.”
*F-Thwak!*
The noise cut through the air like a clap of thunder. They were a good distance outside the town, and in the clearing just ahead they saw the source of the sound.
Camilla stood poised with a hunting bow before an impressive shooting range. Her yellow dress had been replaced with a set of green tights and leather arm guards. Gourds, cabbages, bales of hay, and even nearby trees had bulls-eyes painted on, waiting for an arrow to pierce them. Getting closer, they noticed the sweat plastering her hair to her head.
Her breath hitched as she let an arrow fly. It sailed past its intended target, missing by several inches and hitting the cliff behind instead. She had apparently been out there practicing for a long time now, and dispite the effort she was putting into her shots, most of her targets weren't even scratched. She’d gotten lucky a few times for sure, but for the most part, the targets were very much intact.
Camilla let another arrow fly only for it to miss by an even larger distance, and she grit her teeth. “This is hopeless!” she screamed and kicked at the ground in frustration.
“Relax your grip.” Fenora advised from where they stood.
Camilla spun around to face them. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t notice you there.”
“What are you doing out here?” Fenora asked, even though it was pretty obvious.
Camilla stared off into the distance for a second, then looked back at the targets. “I’m trying to learn how to shoot a bow. After what happened at the Barrow, and now with all this talk of dragons, I want to be able to defend myself. Lucan was against it, just like everything I do; he’s afraid I’ll just go and hurt myself again. And it didn’t help that I’m using his produce for targets.”
“That explains why he was so tight with his coin.” Fenora mumbled.
“But I’m tired of being the damsel in distress for someone else to save!” Camilla continued. “I know I can do this if could just get the hang of it.”
Fenora stepped up beside her and looked downrange. “Want a few tips?” she asked. "My mother taught me a few good tricks."
"Wasn't your mom blind?" Stross asked.
"Yes." Fenora said plainly.
Camilla looked hesitant to accept help, but decided to accept. “I guess it couldn’t make me a worse shot than I already am.”
Fenora smiled and looked over Camilla’s stance. “First of all… relax. Loosen your grip on the handle a bit, don’t lock your elbow, and most important of all, control your breathing.
Moving on to your other hand, it looks like your natural draw is the ‘thumb and two fingers’, as opposed to ‘thumb and index’ or ‘three fingers’. Really it doesn’t make too much difference which of the three you use; the important thing is to keep your right elbow level with your hand when you draw, otherwise it the arrow might tilt when you fire it.”
“Wow, that’s a lot to remember.” Camilla laughed.
“Don’t remember. Just do it.” Fenora nodded. “Show me what you’ve got.”
Camilla pointed an arrow downrange and pulled the string back again, aiming for the cabbage that had thus far mocked her with matrix-like arrow dodging. “Okay… loosen grip, elbow bent- not too much though. Okay, I-can-do-this I-can-do-this I-can-do-.”
“Camilla.” Fenora interrupted. “Breathe.”
Camilla sucked in a nervous breath, and slowly let it out before firing her arrow when her lungs had emptied halfway. The arrow didn’t hit its mark so much as graze it, cutting a sharp nick in the top of the cabbage.
Camilla was disappointed, but Fenora was merely impressed.
“Better.” She said, giving Camilla a pat on the shoulder. “Keep practicing and it’ll be so easy you won’t even have to think about it.”
Leaving towards Whiterun, the three of them heard another distant *thwack*, this time followed by a triumphant cheer. There was hope for Skyrim yet.
After following the path that was quickly becoming worn and familiar to them, our heroes made it to Whiterun. They couldn’t stay long however, only long enough to deliver Nettlebane to Ysolda, and to finish selling anything that would unduly weigh them down.
Now it was mid-afternoon, and they would have to find a way to get to Ustengrav. Morthal was the town closest to the old ruin, only an hour or two away by Stross’s map. Therefore, hiring a carriage to take them there seemed like the logical choice. That was… up until they actually put that plan into motion. Fenora wasn’t even halfway through paying for the three of them when they ran into a problem.
“Stross, what in gods’ names are you doing?” Fenora asked.
But Stross just stood there, face to face with the giant steed harnessed to the front of the wagon. Its head loomed over the disguised changeling’s, nose sorting puffs of air into his face, and its eyes flicking downward every now and then to look at him before just as quickly returning their vigil ahead, waiting for the driver’s command.
“’Sa matter wit’cha? Ya never seen a horse before?” the driver quipped.
Stross would have explained that he had indeed seen horses before, but they were never… like this! The first time he’d seen a horse in Skyrim, they’d been carrying Ulfric and his men in the distance, and he still couldn’t believe just how mind-bendingly huge they were! They were like colossi compared to Equestrians, dwarfing even the most dedicated body-builders with their sheer hulking mass and muscle!
But in exchange for this physical strength and size, there came a price, and Stross could see it in the eyes of this horse. It lacked the intelligence of the ponies he knew. He could tell even now that this giant was truly no more than a trained animal, standing here sometimes for hours until the order to move was given.
So no, Stross had not seen horses. He had seen ponies. This creature standing before him was a beast. A warped reflection of the species he knew and fed on. A twisted visage of evolution that had exchanged brain for brawn. It was… it was…
“It’s so big.” Stross gaped.
Fenora turned back to the driver and got his attention with their travel fee. “They’re smaller where he comes from.” She explained in a partial truth.
“Do you see beyond just the world around you?” Stross asked the horse, “Can you understand the secrets of the universe? …Do you taste just like raisins?”
“Stross quit fooling around and get in! Let’s go.”
Stross would have to ponder the mysteries of life some other time. Right now they needed the answer to an even more puzzling question. How were they going to stop an army of dragons by themselves?
It would probably involve lots of shouting.
Stats
Page generated in 0.033 seconds
Total duration
933 users online
229,113 hits today, 2,244,100 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
I wonder if Lydia's secretly genre-savvy...
I once knew a horse who tried to understand the secrets of the universe. He succeeded...
comicbookresources.com/imgsrv/preview/0/0/1/BravestWarriors-ParalyzedHorseGiant-PRESS-22-3f06e.jpg
Its a good thing Stross gets by on love, otherwise Fenora would have great difficulty getting him away from that horse.
Its that part of the game where teh back and forth is in the walking, and not so much the talking, or hitting each other with sharp pointy bits of metal?
i thought is was Danica Puresprings who wanted Nettlebane...
7222303 She was involved with Ysolda and they were using sap from the tree to make drugs.
~Crystalline Electrostatic~
0:40_5/17/2016
there's this mod that I frequently put in my game called helgen rebuild or something like that, wonder if something like that will appear in this story sometime in the future
buts when she threw
and Fenora Grit her teeth
know Stross to be an over reactor
1. But. Because buts are for sitting on.
2. Guess Fenora got am edgier middle name.
3. Overreactor, one word in this case.
Hahahaha, awesomely done man, awesomely done!
glorious work on this.
Lydia, you so funny.
God i feel old for remembering that one.
Well, that horse is pretty amazing. I can see why Stross would be so enthralled with it.
I really hope Fenora runs into that bandit clan in the future so she can avenge her parents. It would be awesome to see her do the Princess Bride type thing: "Hello, my name is Fenora Tandis, you killed my parents. Prepare to Die!"
7248376 Yeah... I hated having to point it out, becuase it was fun, but I would hate for an entire story to get taken down just because of some small rule, you know? The adventure is only just getting started!
Hagravens, not a fun encounter for a low level character.
Oh wow, well that explains Fenora's reaction to bandits.
Bwhahahahaha! I've been wondering what Stross’s reaction to full sized Skyrim horses would be.
I really hope that Stross talking to horses continues to be a thing.
7453349
I'm enjoying this trail of comments so much.
Glad you're enjoying the story.
Ha! A Mr. Weebl quote! I salute you sir. Just don't check where the lemonade is made.
Out of curiosity do you do archery? Because as a archer I can say that was a surprisingly accurate archery lesson
The same Trey Sure-finder that got three of his limbs cut off before he conceded that he’d been driven into retirement?
Either he is hopping into battle on one leg with the mace clenched in his teeth, or they have even better medmagic than is presented.
10528854
A few paragraphs later, she mentions the relatively crude prosthetics he was using. Surprisingly enough, there are records of a mechanical arm in a similar era at least complex enough to hold a sword. Mind, the hand had to be manipulated into doing so with the other hand, but it kept the grip once you did.