The Brute, the Thief, and the Awkward (Skyrim Fanfiction)

A tear of hope

Tirdas, First seed, 10th, 4E 200

12:08am

*Thud*

On his final breath, the demented Ragnarok had fallen over, and his body became limp and lifeless. The pain faded from Neyya's body, replaced by pure adrenaline, realizing she killed her only friend for miles.

She rushed over to where he lay, and even in his vile form, held him. She felt the wound where her arrow made it's mark. Her face flooded, reminiscing the memories of the past few days, and how they were some of the best of her life, due in no small part to him. She gave her best attempt to convincing herself it had to happen, and yet the smallest part of her detested, claiming there had to be another way. Thankfully, her mind was so fogged she could find no indication of that being possible. She weeped and sobbed for what felt like years, but even so didn't want to leave.

A single droplet fell from her eyes and landed inside his wound.

-----

In the mind of Ragnarok

He sat in awe of his chiseled master, breathing, and staring back at him. Though the pitch black realm of Oblivion offered silence, until Ragnarok could take it no longer.

"Uh, Milord? Why is Ragnarok here, and not with Ney-ney?"

Malacath stood continuously, staring at his kneeling subject. After a long moment of further silence, and gave the simplest of solutions. "You died." He spoke, arrogance flooding his tone.

Most things did not come naturally to Ragnarok, like reading, alchemy, farming, and so on. However, what his master had just offered him seemed to strike him the hardest as most confusing. He continued kneeling, obviously stumped. Upon seeing this, Malacath spoke again, "Please, don't think too hard. You are here because you are dead, but I have something for you. But first..." With a snap of his fingers, Malacath transformed the darkness into a more familiar setting. "Remember this, Ragnarok?"

Ragnarok looked around and could not believe what he saw.

"Narzulbur, my home..."

Except it wasn't exactly as he remembered. It looks like the Thalmor were invading. The walls of the camp were set ablaze, and the orcs offered strong resistance. However, the sheer numbers of the elves made the battle-bred orcs look like a flower picking expedition. Many of the people who raised him from birth fell in bloody battle. Chief Mauhulakh, Yatul, Urog, Dushnamub...

Even Auntie Bolar...

"That isn't it." Malacath spoke, and showed Ragnarok a dragon's eye view of Skyrim. All of the major Orc Strongholds were burning. The Thalmor were on a full-fledged Orc extermination campaign.

"Why... Why elves kill Ragnarok's family? Why elves kill friends?"

Malacath pondered this for a moment, and replied, "Their purpose unknown to me. However, what I do know is that you are the only hope the orcs have of survival. I also know you can't save the orcs if you're dead."

In the palm of his stone hand, rays of light met, and formed a ruby shard. Malacath grasped the shard and planted it into Ragnarok's chest, causing a brief moment of extreme pain. "That should cure the poison, and prevent any future misunderstandings." Malacath offered a short grin, and turned to the map, manipulating it slightly. "Here!" His voiced boomed.

"What is that?" Ragnarok asked, thumbing the area the shard struck.

"Helgen." Malacath spoke. "Falkreath hold, nice size, plenty of potential."

"What are you talking about master?"

"Location! In order to ensure their survival, you must unite the orcs and prepare them for the upcoming war. I want you to learn as much as possible at the College of Winterhold, and once the dragons strike again, lead the orcs to Helgen. Rebuild it and make it prosper." Malacath strode back and forth, eyeing Helgen on the map.

"Master, surely Ragnarok is strong, but he cannot do something this big of a task alone!" He pleaded.

"Of course, Ragnarok. Who said you would do this alone? I have a friend who will help. He will introduce himself when the time is right. Now go, you have much to do."

The magnificent statue conjured a large sword, wound back, and sent it straight into Ragnarok, causing him to lose consciousness.

------

7:18am

She rose to the most frightening sound one could wake to. Standing quickly and spinning around, Neyya stood in awe of the lone giant that was before her. He looked down menacingly, and snorted in hostility.

Great. This is just what I needed. Take me away, I've already lost everything I ever cared about.

Finish me.

The giant, sensing fear in her, drew his club.

C'mon. Do it. I'm ready.

He lifted the enormous weapon high overhead.

"Do it now!" She yelled on the top of her lungs. As the club came down, Neyya closed her eyes to brace for imminent death. Her life flashed before her eyes, and a final tear flew from her eye.

Crack!