Potential future idea- (Patreon)

The cart rocked and jostled, she could hear the clomping of horse hooves, 

Odd. She didn’t remember falling asleep on a cart.

The rocking motion was soothing, rhythmic. It almost lulled her to sleep all over again even as she let her other senses paint the picture currently surrounding her. 

Touch was the first of course. The rough feel of carved wood on her back, the kiss of cold snow on her cheek. The cloth over her as a blanket was rough and coarse. Roughspun sack cloth by her guess.

Sound came next. Her long ears twitching. The clomping of hooves. The sound of people talking. Accents she couldn’t quite place, birds she didn’t quite recognize.

Smell was the third. Pine. The rich, pleasant smell was contrasting rather unpleasantly with the stink of unwashed humans. Sweat… and the faint tinge of blood.

She groaned, turning away. What kind of cart was she on? And why couldn’t she hear or smell F-

“Hey- you, You’re finally awake?”

Again, she groaned at the voice, pulled from the blissful pull of wonderful sleep.

She turned away from the voice.

“Hey.”

She felt the hand reaching before it touched her, cold fingers brushing her cheek.

Ice cold.

She shivered. A shudder racing up her spine. 

“Don’t.” She demanded, curling into the rough sack cloth. 

The person let out a laugh. “Sorry Elf, but you’ll thank me if I cut your nap short. Maybe you can get you and yours out of this.”

Hers…

And it sounded like they were in trouble somehow.

She forced one eye open, wincing at the brightness of snowcast sky before groaning as she forced herself to sit up. 

She looked around.

The evil evil man that had pulled her from the wonderful realm of sleep was a large, blonde man. Young? She thought he was young. But all humans were young. 

She noticed his hands were bound…

Infact, the hands of everyone around her were bound.

It was a prisoner cart.

Why would Fern put her on a prisoner cart? Where was- Oh.

She cast her eyes to the next cart over; where indeed she could see Fern and Stark were there, similarly bound and even gagged, her charges were staring at her, relieved that she’d finally woken up and likely looking for her to try and solve things.

She looked down at her hands, unbound.

So there didn’t seem to be an immediate crisis at least. So probably just a misunderstanding. 

And with that she closed her eyes and plopped down to fall asleep agai-

She could suddenly feel a very different kind of chill crawl down her spine.

Opening her eyes she found Fern glaring at her across the distance. 

Frieren sighed. 

She wasn’t getting back to sleep today.

—

“Captain, what do we do? None of them are on the list; and they don’t look local.”

This was getting stranger and stranger.

Frieren had lived for a great many years. She’d traveled through the length and breadth of all kingdoms and states in that time. Outlived many.

She certainly didn’t remember any with these sigils, or armor styles.

The woman infront of them, a captain, looked frustrated at her subordinate, but with an eye cast towards the Elven woman, for what else could it be but an elven woman; sitting upon a horse overlooking the proceedings, and wasn’t that odd. Another elf.

“Altmer’s fine. Send the other prisoners to the block.”

The block? 

A thunk of a heavy axe and a rolling head made her turn- and she understood. 

A headsman’s block. 

“Oh Fuck you.” A human male beside her spat, Fern and Stark looked just about ready to panic as the guards began to drag them all away.

She stepped forward, placing herself in the guards way and reaching to grasp the other one that had been escorting Stark to stop him as well.

“I’m sorry, but these are my charges.” She declared quietly, I’m afraid I can’t simply let you take them to the… block because you don’t want to… do extra paperwork.” 

The captain, who seemed to be a rather unpleasant woman, sneered. “You want to join them Altmer?”

That word again- Altmer.

“I’m sure you’re not suggesting one of our own would be a Stormcloak captain.” The elven woman drolled behind the captain. 

The human woman quietly proceeded to grind her teeth down to powder.

Frieren’s ears twitched.

Were those… Wingbeats?

She turned towards the sound.

Yes. They were Wingbeats.

She pointed, raising one finger. “Dragon.” 

They didn’t quite seem to hear her.

When the beast crashed down on a large nearby tower, someone else shouted ‘Dragon’ and that they heard.

People began to scream, She watched the beast open its mouth, its Voice spilling out in a cascade of raw, unbridled magic-

Her hand reached out, grasping Fern’s hand in her own and before she could grab for Stark the guard that had been escorting him ran, pulling him along into a different building. 

“Run.”

And that’s about as far as she got before the sky split apart and Fire sundered the heavens.

She ran, Fern right behind her; she kept one eye or one ear on Stark as she and Fern ducked into the shadow of another tower;

They took cover, Fern casting a barrier over them as a flaming rock descended from above and she used her rope unbinding spell to have the rope untie itself..

The instant the gag was off Fern’s eyes were wide. ‘Mistress Frieren what do we do?!”

She opened her mouth, ready to answer when a red blur shot upwards like a comet, large axe in hand headed straight for the Black scaled beast.

It was a creature much much smaller than the one Stark already felled, and it didn’t even have its front claws. But Frieren could sense it, almost even see it before it happened;

He wouldn’t win.

Stark swung, and the pilfered axe shattered against those black scales, raw, unstoppable power meeting an unbreakable object. Shards of metal and wood flew everywhere and Stark had to cover his eyes as he lost control, tumbling from on high to land hard on the ground.

The Dragon growled, fire gathering in its mouth.

No. Not fire.

A word.

YOL!

The blast of flame barreled towards her charge, she heard Fern scream.

Frieren moved.

And she was there, standing beside Stark, staring up at the onrushing inferno before it smashed into her barrier.

She felt the word there, tasted it almost. 

It truly was like no magic she’d ever felt before.

The flames dispersed, and she stared up at red eyes as she conjured her staff into her hand. 

It had been a while since she fought a dragon.(X)(X)(X)Needed to take my mind off of things and got bitten by a potential plot bunny for a future idea once I'm done with my current projects.So this one is of course, Elder Scrolls Skyrim and Frieren: Beyond Journey's end.Don't know if it'd be exactly like this at the start things might change but I would certainly want it to be a bit more lighthearted and maybe even 'silly' compared to weaving Force as Frieren is by default.So this is just me gauging interest. Tell me what you all think.