Shur'vahkiin (Skyrim X Inheritance)

Origin Story

When Celina said she wanted action, that was not what she meant.

The dark elf hybrid squeezed her eyes shut as the axe came down with a savage smack, slicing the Stormcloak soldier's head clean off his shoulders. She opened one gleaming crimson eye just a crack to peek at the carnage, and had to suppress a wave of bile rising in her throat. She had a snever wanted to actually see the inside of someone's neck. She shuddered, a movement that had nothing to do with the chill wind biting at her through the thin prisoner's rags she wore, and everything to do with the decapitated corpse staining the cobblestone street vermillion.

Rising up around the town square were long one story houses made of logs and stone. A large keep could be seen behind the houses, separated from the main part of the town by a thick stone wall. Two circular watchtowers stood guard over the gates that surrounded the city and the center of the town, where four wagon-fulls of rebel soldiers and other criminals stood in line for the chopping block.

Personally, Celina didn't think she needed to be there. She was hardly a wanted criminal, and she certainly wasn't a rebel Stormcloak. And yet, these imperial soldiers felt the need to chop off her head over the simple matter of a stolen trinket.

Okay, so it was a very expensive magical trinket. So what? Had these soldiers never heard of jail time?

Celina's crimson gaze was dragged harshly to her left as movement flickered in her periphery. A tall Nord man stood off to one side of the group, surrounded by Imperial guards with a rough cloth gag tied over his mouth. His fur cape was made of bearskin, and his attire simply screamed royalty. His blonde hair and fair skin fit right into the Nord stereotype.

This man was Ulfric Stormcloak. The leader of the rebellion, and the reason Celina was trapped here. She cast a sidelong glance at the rebel soldiers gathered on either side of her. The group was predominantly made of male Nords with bulky muscles, stringy blonde hair, and bushy beards, although Celina picked out a couple oddballs like herself in the line.

A slim Khajiit with dark grey fur and merchant's clothes stood off to the left, three people away from the scrawny elf hybrid. His teeth were bared and his ears pinned against his head as he stared in horror at the headless soldier on the block. Celina could vaguely see him shaking. The poor cat was probably there for the same reason as her: petty thievery.

Next to the Khajiit stood a massive orc with a partially shaved head and enormous tusks. Her shoulders were broader than even the strongest Nord warrior in the line, and her neck looked like it was the width of Celina's waist. She glowered at the Imperials as they walked by, and they kept every single eye and blade trained on the orc, no matter what happened. It must have taken several men to take her into custody, as her armor, size and intimidating demeanor simply screamed berserker. Her weapons were taken away, but it didn't look like that would stop her from tearing her enemies apart with her bare hands. Her hands were bound with chains rather than ropes like the rest of the prisoners.

Wedged between Celina and a female Stormcloak officer was a tall, muscular Altmer in blue mage's robes. He stared straight ahead with steely resignation and a hardened expression. Dark brown hair framed his tanned golden face and tumbled down to brush his shoulders. His sharp features were set in an unwavering scowl, his green eyes hard and cold. Celina shuddered and inched away from him.

In her haste to move away from the intimidating high elf, Celina bumped into a long-limbed Nord warrior on her left. He started and caught himself before he overbalanced and started a domino effect within the lines of prisoners. A questioning look was sent Celina's way, and the hybrid elf shrugged in reply.