Beorning Saga, pt 1

Falkreath, Skyrim Region, Tamriel, 4E 165

Kynareth's hammer had pounded the night leaving the Thistles and Mountain flowers bent and dripping with her mercy.  As the fire of the morning crested the Jerall Mountains Farengar wandered out of the farmhouse sleepily scratching, the cold clean mountain air awakening him.  From the farmhouse, typical of the area; two storied with a strong stone base and wooden upper level, the wood smoke issued and his stomach reminded him about breakfast.  Mother was talking to a new arrival and recognition brought a smile.
"Uncle!"
He broke into a run clasping his Uncle's fore-arm in welcome.  Before he could continue  a courier arrived  with a note in his hand.
"I have a message for you..."
The courier grinned, obviously liking this rare announcement message for the mother of Farengar SecretFire and her clan folk.  Farengar's cousin, Kudri WhiteFire, had given birth.  Any birth to the Fire clan was a cause for celebration and Farengar and his folk would raise a glass of the famous Nord Mead to the child. 
The courier who read the note stated
"On this day, the 29th Morningstar, to Kudri WhiteFire of the Bruma guard was born a beautiful boy - Beorning the new member of the Fire clan.  All hail Beorning!"
The courier then hastened to his next destination to deliver the message to other clan members.  The family walked to the kitchen to break fast and celebrate this welcome news.

Briefly staring into the flames of the kitchen fire.   Farengar mused on his cousin, Kudri, remembering their naming & clan welcoming ceremony back in Falkreath when they were little.     He'd been given the name Secret, in addition to his birth and clan names by the priest of Talos who recognised his desire to be a magician.  Kudri all skinny with long red-brown hair had come back from the priest of Kynareth with the name White.  He'd always teased her about being part snow-elf because of the milkiness of her skin.  He'd also teased her about her love for Kynareth over Talos.  She always primly called back that "The Nine are One and Eight & One are Nine".  Even though they only met during clan gatherings held at Sun's Dawn, Sun's Height and Sun's Dusk he realised that he missed her.    Of all his siblings and cousins she was the one that understood him, although he'd never understood her fascination with Kynareth and nature. 
Memories of their last meeting two years ago floated into his minds-eye.
"Hey, hey Farengar how's you?   When you off to Winterhold for magician training?" Kudri's sing-song voice rang in his ear. 
"Kudri, good to see you!   I'm off at Rain's Hand to start with Tolfdir.   I hope we get clear skies and that it doesn't rain the whole way there." Farengar shuddered at the thought.  "What are you going to do now you're of age?"
"The BaleFire has contacts in the Bruma guard so I was going to travel over the passes as soon as they open in Second Seed and start there.   Maybe once I've trained I'll head across the Empire as an adventurer!   I might even join the Mages Guild and be better than you!"
Farengar smiled, that internal knowing smile that earned him his naming
"I don't think so girl-cousin but I hope Bruma is good to you.  Maybe we'll catch up next year or the year after."
His attention returned to the present and the room of his clan...

"So the boy is called Beorning.  May he live to be big, bold and brave.  A true Nord!" toasted his Mother.  She was a typical Nord woman; bold & brassy, plainly dressed today in breeks and an embroidered over-dress with a flowing vine and fruit pattern.
"Aye!" "Beorning!" "Kudri's son!" toasted the others.
"Mother, does anyone know who the father is?" asked Farengar.
The others looked around muttering about how Cyrodiil and the Empire was a right mix of people 
"As long as it's not an Altmer!" 
"A pasty Half-Orc would be ugly, but a good fighter"
"Hmmm I was in Bruma the past year, she was always at the Jerall Inn with a big Nord Battle-Mage, rumour was that he was a Blade from Cloud Ruler Temple.  Can't remember his name though..." 
His uncle Eirik BaleFire was strong, hale and with an energy that belied his years. He travelled a lot as a Merchant Adventurer,  always in conflict with the East Empire Company, he rarely stopped complaining about them.  When he did stop whinging he was the main source of accurate gossip within the Clan.
Not being able to remember a conversation or piece of information like this always annoyed his Uncle greatly and he started stroking his braided salt and pepper beard, then drumming his fingers on his wide sword belt, much to Farengar's  mother's annoyance.  With a swift 'snap' Eirik clicked his fingers;
"Rig - that was his name, no clan name just Rig.  Not sure what sort of a name Rig is.  A big fellow with his share of scars and light grey hair which was strange in one as young as he."

Returning to his musings by the flickering light of the wood harmer Farengar slid into a visionary state. Raising itself in Farengar's inner world, out of the fire, was the blinking of a great eye.  Opening to show it's orange iris as if wakening within a great black rock.  The rock resolved to a cliff face, dark, jagged and granite hard.  The eye blinked and a rock slide began, a shape emerging from the rock. 
A great dragon head shape and both eyes turned to stare directly at Farengar as it's mouth opened and a great rumbling murmur began.   It sounded like a distant avalanche that grew in power until words formed
"Doh Vah Kiin"
Farengar shuddered back and fell from his seat so loud and powerful was the inner vision.  He was shaken and his arms automatically raised as if to ward from a blow.   His mother, uncle and the rest of the clan stared at him.
"What's up with you Faren'?" asked his Mother a little concerned although she was used to his odd behaviour at momentous times.
Farengar hastily gathered his wits and made to leave the room to ponder further.
"Nothing, I just got lost in thought."
"Hah!   Thinking eh!  Pity you're not more like cousin Kudri she's an action girl, a true Nord."
"May the boy be blessed of the Nine and be a bright blade during the argument of swords!"

Beorning Saga, pt 2

Cyrodiil region Tamriel, 4E 175. First Seed

Kudri Whitefire looked at the faces around her, mostly Nords like herself, but with a smattering of the other races; Redguards, Bretons, Orsimer, Dunmer and Cyrodiils. They wore a motley bunch of armour leather, studded, elven and glass with a whole range of different weapons and shields. It was all brought together by a common overcoat with the Bruma black eagle on yellow ochre background. To distinguish them from the regular Bruma troops the eagle clasped a red skull in it’s talons. These irregular troops, mostly adventurers whom the war had shorn of a living, were ill-disciplined in a military sense but powerful fighters and Kudri was proud to lead them. Because they were irregulars some generals had questioned their commitment in battle. Kudri knew that this speech was needed after the Imperial losses of the previous year and the vicious Sack of the Imperial City

"Our Imperial Jewel has been raped by those hungry for the bloody slavery of our peoples." She looked into the eyes of all her troops... "We are returning for vengeance!"... "But we, the Bruma Reivers, have to do our blood work first... We must harry and raid... We must throw a black noose round their mages... We must make sure those Dominion dogs know nothing of the battle blizzard that General Jonna brings!". She looked at their haggard, hardened jaws.
"Yes we've had losses over the past years and we've been at the blunt end of a hammering but us Reivers have been the hawks of harrying, have we not?"
"Arrr" assent rumbled like a low mist towards her.
"Did we keep the Bruma road open?", "Arrr" rumbled back. "Did we hack and harry and hit the Aldmeri? Have they come to fear our hawk call? Does the Dominion fear to leave their beds because the Reivers will bring the red ruin to them?"
"Arrr!", "Arr-arr", "Arr-arr!" The rumblings had increased in pitch until the high pitched hawk call that was their battle shout rang out. She knew she had their attention then.
"Our Emperor has a plan and General Jonna, along with the other legions, marches now. We are the light troops, the scouts, the harrowers who will keep those Aldmeri arselings blind to the Mede's might. We'll break our winter camp tomorrow and move back to our spring fighting pattern, your hand leaders will deliver your orders in the morning. Hand commanders to me, troops DISMISSED!"
......... _________ .........

Meara Benirus followed the rest of her hand back to their tent, she looked around at them; Sha gro-Shak "Shaker" a bright green warrior Orsimer, Droma Talylin "Tally" a quiet Dunmer mage-scout and then the Nords siblings Hafon "Hey boy" and Hartha "Hey gal" from Hjaalmarch. Hafon was hand-leader, due to the hard learnt lessons of the early part of the War only Nords could become hand leaders. The Thalmor were masters of disguise, illusion, infiltration and by those under-hand measures had nearly destroyed the Reivers in the first years of the war. Kudri WhiteFire, the pale Nord and her hand had been the only survivors for a reason; they had hard rules based upon the structure of the Dark Brotherhood.
Now the Reivers were strong, re-built upon their rules;
The Rule of Friendship - new members of a hand were introduced by other well trusted members, this also meant that each hand made enormous efforts to ensure the next rule did not need to be enforced. Whilst your hand and friends knew your first name it was never used only a second or nick name was used. The first name was hidden for the Rule of Identification.
Rule of Responsibility - No one gets left behind alive, thus it is each member of the hand's responsibility to ensure that none of the squad could be used by the Thalmor against the Reivers; each member carried a deadly poison to be used if they were taken. Standing orders meant any member of the Reivers seeing another Reiver captured were duty bound, upon pain of death after a court-martial if they failed, to shoot the deadly poison into their comrade.
Rule of Identification - On each meeting you prove who you are, a set of frequently changed handshakes and codes, particular to the hand members, used to ensure that the Thalmor had not impersonated or ensorcelled the Reiver. Sole survivors of a hand during battle were not allowed back into the Reivers and had to leave knowing that they'd not kept their friends alive. Three simple rules of survival in the Great War.
Tally dropped back, as a fellow Anviler, although a Dunmer, and Scout she'd taken Meara under her wing, her nickname was obvious... "Beni let's get some more training in before we head out.". Inwardly Meara groaned her muscles still feeling sore after weeks of hard training, mornings of sword & battlecraft, afternoons of woodcraft sneaking around the woods hunting deer and evenings of magecraft in illusion and conjuration.
Since her arrival at the Reivers the days had blurred in the world of her Hand, the Fiddlers "cos we like playing with ourselves". Most swordcraft sessions involved all the team; 3 on 2, 4 on 1 and battlecraft was against other Hands. This was their secret method, the team tactics employed by each Hand and their joint tactics amongst the Hands. The Thalmor with their fanatic organisation & discipline struggled against the flow and seeming chaos of the Reivers. Or rather, now they did since Kudri had reorganised the Reivers.
......... _________ .........

In the White City Magister Phaegol listened to General Naarifin with rising glee; a chance to prove himself to the Dominion high command as well as blasting those lesser Talos worshipping races. The evening was looking up. Naarifin finished
"I need you to wreck the Reivers and discover what Titus is planning."
Phaegol led a Thalmorion of troops; mostly Bosmer with an Altmer elite core of battle-magi. He was typical; pale, light haired, tall with a straight narrow nose, long pinched face with eyes also narrowed giving a supercilious look. This was only intensified when discussing the non Elven.
The Reivers had gained a fearsome reputation in 4E 174 by harrying the Thalmorions during Titus II's escape from the Imperial City. No quarter was given nor expected by the Reivers and the Altmer had learnt to respect their elusive combat prowess. It infuriated and insulted their Elven Supremacist sensibilities, hence there would be great kudos to the Magister who destroyed them.
Phaegol had built a unit based on closely ordered conjured elementals supported by Bosmer archers and a phalanx of battle-mages, conjuring the front rank of elementals, behind. They had well drilled battle tactics defined for all terrains and circumstances. Command and control was how he ran things. Of course the reason why the Dominion was superior was that humankind were weak, the Reiver’s traitor he'd secretly secured was proof of that.
The traitor sent intelligence via encrypted message returned by Bosmer controlled creatures. He knew they had been wintering in the Bruma Caverns, expanded into a military base and was awaiting the latest report.
......... _________ .........