4 Chapter Four: Upon The Dawn

Carrow crested a snowed over hill as the first rays of dawn lit up the sky. His hand still cradling the Clairvoyance spell, he stared down at the Harbor city of Dawnstar. Dawnstar was a lesser city of Skyrim, and in the game was nothing more than a few houses and holds, along with a single dock that had a singular ship docked at said dock. Safe to say it was kind of a shit place that could be barely counted as a town.

Now in the realized world of Skyrim, that was all false. This city was a City, with cleaver portcullis and gate houses that would make attacking the harbor difficult, as it used its rocky hills to its advantage. The city had a bustling harbor with many a ship already braving the icy northern sea, catching northern cod and other sea life for market and sale. With smoke stacks of burning charcoal and firewood, the distant chatter of people and men yelling out in the city streets. Even from a distance the small town looked like a bustling medieval port city.

Squaring his shoulders and preparing for conflict if anyone were to somehow recognize his nature. Carrow first used his rather limited knowledge of illusion to weave one covering his eyes. Gone was the blue glow that shined inside the dark skull helm, but instead a swallowing abyssal black was all that remained. Not knowing any other spell that would help him in hiding his nature, with dragon shouts not being one for subtly; Carrow move onward. He descended down from the outlook hill he'd stopped on, and intersected a cobbled roadway that lead to what seemed like the main gatehouse.

As Carrow moved toward the gatehouse he could see the guards pointing and hear distant shouts of orders. It made sense, Carrow was a strangely armored and armed warrior. He made his way to the gatehouse and was promptly stopped by three Dawnstar guards.

"Halt, what is your business here in Dawnstar, Warrior?" Carrow could all but feel the capitalization of the term Warrior. Respect mixed with caution laced the guards voice, and he noticed their eyes darted to his blade and armor. Not all of the guards wore the standard full face covering helmet that was so prevalent in the games. In a place as far north and cold, standardization was less of a concern than being warm and able to fight if needed. Not to mention the helm would limit vision. Many of them wore scarfs, cloaks, hoods, and warmer armor.

"I've recently explored a Draugr Ruin and cleared out a bandit encampment. I'm running low on supplies and seek to trade. Would there happen to be any caravans headed to Whiterun lately?" Carrow stated.

The guard nodded at Carrow's answer, before answering the question, "With the blizzard out there won't be many heading out. You have any proof of that bandit kill?" The guard asked.

"Other than a banded iron shield that their chief held, no." Carrow answered back.

The guard however perked up at that. "Banded Iron you say, pull it out, if its Tolfder's then you might get rewarded."

Interested in a reward Carrow held out his hand and reached into Oblivion. The guards didn't really react as they all recognized enchanted armor when they saw it, and most people who used such gear were versed in magic to a degree. The shield appeared in his hand as he removed it from Oblivion and presented it to the guard. The man flipped the shield to the back and rubbed his gloved thumb on a faded mark on the Iron.

"Yep, that's Tolfder's work. Follow me, I'll take you to the steward, you might get a few Septims as a reward for you time." Carrow nodded his head and followed the guard.

They trekked through the cobbled streets and Carrow scrunched up his nose at the smell of them. Shit and piss littered the streets and he couldn't help but wonder how a society with magic could stand such conditions. Further thought reminded him of the 'Cure All' potion for disease related effects, and he couldn't help but frown. It was a cure, not a preventative, although knowing human nature there was likely a group of alchemists who exacerbated living conditions to further the sale of the potion.

Carrow gave a small sigh at the stupidity of Ephemerals.

As they navigated the streets, dodging wagons and passerby, Carrow and the guard arrived at a long house located at the center of the city. Entering, he was met by the sight of an older white male with a ornate silver and sapphire circlet resting on his head. The man was wispy and old, looking like he'd fall over with a breeze. The guard led them to a side of the room and the man whispered into the ear of another guard as he passed. The guard pointed to another room on the opposite side of the hall, and they started moving towards it. Crossing the hall and entering the room, he was met by the sight of a scrawny man poring over a few documents.

"I told you not to bother me, I'm very busy right now." The man spoke with a tired and exasperated voice, obviously overworked.

"Steward, I have news regarding Holder and his gang of bandits." The guard spoke.

"Holder? Ah, we lost a caravan to his group. Apparently one of the tag along was a relative to a Thalmor Agent! What a mess, what a mess." The man rubbed his brow, before turning his attention to the guard. "Ah, Falk, how nice to see you lad, what is this news you speak of, and who is this you've brought. Intimidating fellow he is." The man spoke with a practiced charisma and cadence that could have only come from an Imperial, yet it was worn down by his exhaustion, falling flat and fake.

"Never got his name, but he brings one of Tolfder's stolen shields, a shield that was reportedly used by Holder." Falk reported.

The steward turned his attention to Carrow, "Ah, you bring good news I hope?"

"Aye, I was exploring a Nordic Tomb, a passion of mine, profitable to. Found him and a small party of bandits inside the entry way. Cut em' clean, deader than dead."

"Wonderful, wonderful. You wouldn't happen to have seen an Altmer girl there would you? She's related to someone quite important." The man asked, pep and energy coming back to him at the sight of good news.

"Ah, her, she was in a most deplorable state sadly. I hope I don't have to spell it out." Carrow said in soft voice, as if mourning the girl he killed on a whim.

"Damn it, Thalmor are going to kick up a fuss. Why couldn't she have been related to someone like Soldier, not a damn Agent!" The steward fussed.

"Ah, sorry for my display, I have lots of things to work on. Here, take this as a token of my esteem. Around thirty five Septims for your trouble. Tolfder would also want his shield back, it's actually one of his sons works: sentimental value and all." Carrow nodded and took the pouch of gold before vanishing it into the void.

Carrow then left the long hall with Falk, handing the man two Septims for the help. He was all smiles after that. Asking directions to an Inn, Carrow split off from the guard and entered the city. He didn't want to stay long, as his real goal was Whiterun. Whiterun was at the very center of the realm, and also a good area to broadcast his services. He was looking to become a bounty hunter and cultivate a reputation as a more than capable warrior, then go from there. One idea niggled at the back of his skull, one that he found both insane and hilarious. Joining the Dawnguard.