The thanks. To DragonXander, thanks for all the reviews! I'm pleased that Djurien reminds you of yourself. I never thought of him like that, but I will definitely incorporate that into his personality. And quickly, they weren't that drunk. Make no mistake, Thorek is an incredible fighter. Truly incredible. That will become more apparent as we continue. I'm glad that you think that he's unpredictable, because he should be, hopefully. Yep, Iggy had to die for the story to progress. To Delphine hater, thanks for the review and the idea. The sex scene will be included at some point. By OC, do you mean a POV? To Darth Rabbits, thanks for the Story Follower. To Mega Kilo 69, thanks for the Story Favourite and Story Follower. To Shadowstar125, thanks for the Story Follower and Story Favourite.
First, Thorek was way better received than I originally anticipated. There will be a few more bad-good characters, but Thorek is unique in my writing and I'm glad you guys liked him because he is seriously fun to write.
Secondly, the sex scene will be included then. Not soon, but I have a moment planned now.
Here we go guys. I know you have all been waiting to see Stormcloak on the end of a characters name, and this guy is pretty special. I've waiting two stories to put down that name.
Carl Alsfur Stormcloak
Carl Alsfur Stormcloak looked over the boulder he was hiding behind. Steam hissed up and he recoiled with a curse. The dragon they were stalking turned, looking up from its meal and scouring the surrounding landscape before deciding it was nothing and turning back. Alsfur let out his pent up breath. His heart was racing.
They had been hunting the dragon for five days now. It had taken them deep into the salty plains of geysers and pools of mineral water that sprawled between the cracked earth that dominated the centre of Eastmarch. Around this area were the plains, forests and mountains that made up the rest of the Hold. It was late evening now. Alsfur didn't doubt the importance of this moment. Tonight, his future would be decided.
Alsfur looked round at his Lord Father, Jon Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm, Lord of Eastmarch, Warden of the East and Marshal of the Old Armies. He was crouched next to him. His father's black hair was streaked with grey now, and he had lines around his mouth and eyes. Despite his age (he was in his late thirties now!), his body was as strong as ever, six feet and seven inches of muscle, compacted into a relatively slim frame, although not the 'slim' of other Nords. His width still dwarfed other men. His father's eyes, like Alsfur's own, were a light, sky blue rimmed in silver. They almost hummed with power. He had a heavy black fur cloak on, with leather under as it light armour. At his side hung the legendary sword, Kodaav.
Kodaav was long, the equivalent to a hand and a half sword, with a straight crossguard and a supple black leather grip. The skyforge steel shone like silver and rippled in the fading light.
Alsfur turned his attention back to the dragon, but his father put a hand on his shoulder.
'See that? It's curling up. It's going to sleep soon.'
'I don't want to kill a sleeping dragon,' Alsfur shot back. 'There's no honour in it!'
Father looked at him, his eyes blazing into Alsfur's own. He knew he had overstepped the line now. Alsfur waited for his father's anger but it never came. Instead he smiled grimly and clapped his son on the shoulder.
'Good. You have listened, and learnt. Life isn't fair, but not because of us or a lack of trying. That said, onikaan ni ov dovah. Never trust a dragon. Before sleep, a dragon is less ready, or able, to defend itself. It's fire has gone out and will take at least a good hour or so to reheat. You still kill an opponent, but a weakened one. Understand?'
'Yes, Father. But aren't you immune to fire and frost?'
His father pursed his lips. 'Mostly, yes, but you aren't and neither are these Nords.' He waved his arm at the other guardsmen waiting around them.
'Why am I not immune?'
'To activate the sossedov you must first absorb a soul. Hence our purpose here. Now, it's time to attack; you have the warhorn?'
Jarl Jon just nodded and Alsfur raised the horn to his lips, his excitement mounting up in his chest. He blew it and the sound echoed off the air. It was a devastating and inspiring noise, one capable of making opponents flee, and men rally. Father said deep magic resided in the horn, though he hadn't told him where he had gotten it from. It was just another of his mysteries…
His father leapt up and Alsfur did the same. Around him the guardsmen followed suit.
Alsfur drew his sword and rushed the dragon, the anticipation of battle gone in a rush of air. It was strange, but when he thought of a dragon he never felt fear, only immense confidence. He put that down to his dragonblood.
The men surrounded the dragon, which was a deep brown. His father called out to the men, telling them the kill was Carl Alsfur's. He had been immensely proud when his first son was named a Carl, by the High King no less. Alsfur had trained long hours and cleared out most of the bandits in Eastmarch to accord such an honour. But that had been years ago now. He had felt fear then, but not now. Alsfur hadn't felt any fear in years, but not for a lack of trying.
The dragon circled, trying to cover all its sides unsuccessfully. Alsfur saw an opening and struck the dragon, drawing out it's silver specked blood. His father saw the hit and called off the guards. He knew that Alsfur was capable now; it was his battle. They gratefully retreated back and it was just Alsfur fighting the dragon while his father waited a short distance away.
The dragon focused its attention on the young Stormcloak now and the Carl had to dodge the lunges made by the dragon. It knew it couldn't breathe fire and instead it used its massive wingspan to hold Alsfur in place, so he couldn't move past it.
The wind from them buffeted him and Alsfur stepped back, trying to keep his balance. The dragon swept a claw at the Carl and he dodged, ducking down. Even so, he was off balance and the dragon's tail struck him, ripping up a section of his leather armour. One of his bracers was torn off his arm and it flew into one of the pools with a splash.
Alsfur knew he had made a mistake, but Father and the guardsmen were completely silent; this was his test, otherwise he would never be allowed to inherit Windhelm. As of yet his father hadn't named an Heir, and Alsfur knew why: he had to kill this dragon, or else he would be a worthless leader.
The Carl side-stepped around the dragon in an attempt to get behind it, ducking under its wings. The dragon tried to sweep Alsfur with its claws, but he sprang away, deflecting the blow off his blade. Although it still jarred him, the backward movement of his body reduced some of the power of the blow.
Despite his efforts, Alsfur was still trapped between it's two front legs. His heart was beating quickly now, and his mind was hammering facts and old techniques into his body. The Carl knew that the dragon could easily crush him if it wanted to. He needed to do something, and quick.
The dragon scented victory and mocked Alsfur with phrase in draconic. It swept in its claws, as it lunged with its head. Alsfur didn't think; he acted.
As the claws and head advanced things slowed and he leapt, catching hold of a grip on the dragons head. He pulled himself up lightly, away from the claws and above the mouth. With a quick motion, he swept his sword down into the dragon's eye. The steel punched through the jelly of its eye in an explosive movement and blood gushed out, covering Alsfur. He gritted his teeth against the burning sensation that scorched his bare skin as he fell, landing heavily. The dragon screamed loudly and buckled, so Alsfur had to roll to avoid it crushing him, shouting out curses as the blood continued to burn him.
With a grunt, Alsfur Stormcloak struggled to his feet and pain shot through his knees; they had been ripped from the fall and dragon ride. His back also hurt, but as he came to terms with what had just happened, a feeling of triumph rushed through the Carl.
Alsfur turned to find the dragon dissolving into fiery flames which turned into a mass of golden light that surrounded and covered him. Alsfur felt a jolt of fear before he realised that the flames weren't hurting him, rather strengthening him. Power rushed through his blood which hummed and boiled. It created a sudden sensation that rushed through his veins and shocked him strangely.
Father came up, his normally gloomy face lit by a wide smile. Alsfur felt a surge of pride surge through him, more powerful than the dragon soul, and settle in his stomach.
Father stepped forward. 'Hail, Carl Alsfur Stormcloak, the new Captain of the Stone Guards, and Heir to Windhelm.' He remained standing, nodding his head as the men knelt, leaving Alsfur in front of them, standing, feeling an immense success wash over him as the men bellowed the Jarl's proclamation.
Alsfur only heard one part of it; 'Heir to Windhelm.'
Short I know, but hopefully it was pretty good. Not much time to develop his personality, but you'll see more of that later. Anyway, I hope that was good. Another of my favourite characters is coming up next.