Wicked_Fiction

Forged in Skyrim #67

Torin reached for the iron handle of the Harbinger’s door, his hand stopping an inch short as the heavy oak panel swung inward on its own.

Aela stepped out, her movements as silent and flui...

Forged in Skyrim #66

Torin shouldered open the heavy door of Jorrvaskr and walked into a wall of sound. It wasn’t the usual low rumble of conversation and clinking tankards. This was a full-throated roar, a chorus of...

Scribble-Scrabble

I was ambushed by a series of random errands today so I didn't have time to write a chapter. What time I had left was just enough to turn something that's been bouncing around in my mind into this....

Forged in Skyrim #65

The morning sun was just beginning to burn the chill off the stone of Whiterun when Torin shouldered his way through the main gate. The city was waking up in earnest, and the familiar, chaotic symp...

Forged in Skyrim #64

Torin stood in the flickering gloom of the cavern, half-naked, barefoot on the cold stone, and glared at the robed figure with a fury that was white-hot and utterly justified.

He was, to put ...

Forged in Skyrim #63

The hooded figure moved through the entrance of the Broken Fang cavern like a shadow slipping into a deeper dark. His boots—fine, supple leather, utterly out of place in the dusty wilds southeast...

Forged in Skyrim #62

Torin walked away from the heavy timber gates of Dushnikh Yal with a satisfied, if weary, smile on his face. A new, densely packed canvas bag hung from his shoulder, its strap biting into his tunic...

Forged in Skyrim #61

Ghorbash’s frown deepened, a ridge of thick brow shadowing his eyes. “Do you even understand what you’re saying, boy?” His voice was a low rumble, like stones grinding together.

He sh...

Forged in Skyrim #60

Seeing that Ghorbash was well and truly in a fighting mood, Torin didn't bother with further taunts. Words had done their job. He simply reached over his shoulder, his fingers closing around the fa...

Forged in Skyrim #59

An hour later, with the sun fully risen and the morning chill beginning to burn away, Torin and Echo left their assigned lodging. Both were fully awake, the bear having finally deigned to start her...

Discord Members!

This for those of you in my discord server. If you got a private message from me with a link, please don't click it. If you did, and you're on PC, I highly recommend you change your discord account...

Forged in Skyrim #58

As Torin followed the female Orc—who had introduced herself as Murbul, mother of the current chief, elder and wisewoman of the tribe—his eyes naturally wandered, taking in the stronghold’s in...

Forged in Skyrim #57

Torin frowned, his senses snapping to high alert. His eyes scanned the surrounding trees, the rocky outcrops, the riverbank—searching for any flicker of movement, any hint of an ambush. Echo’s ...

Forged in Skyrim #56

The next morning, inside the Silver-Blood Inn, Torin sat at his usual corner table, mechanically working his way through a bowl of oatmeal. Echo was on the floor beside him, noisily devouring a bow...

Forged in Skyrim #55

An hour and a half later, under the watchful, impatient eyes of Torin, the guard, and a still-lurking crowd, Jorvan finally lowered his hammer. He barely resisted the urge to let out a long, shudde...

Forged in Skyrim #54

The next day dawned grey and damp, a typical Reach morning. In the smithy, Jorvan was pacing back and forth like a caged bear, his mood as foul as the weather.

A daunting pile of work lay bef...

Forged in Skyrim #53

It goes without saying that Torin was shocked. Out of all the things one might expect upon returning to a rented room—a mess, a thief, even a particularly bold skeever—the sight of an Orc warri...

Announcement

Hey everyone,

Just wanted to give you a quick update on why things have been quiet. My uncle (on my mom's side) had been unwell for a while, and since we live close by, I've been helping care...

Forged in Skyrim #52

The Nord smith, his argument with the Orc woman apparently spent for the moment, finally seemed to notice Torin’s presence. His eyes widened slightly, and a flicker of something like alarm crosse...

Made in Cyrodiil, Forged in Skyrim #51

One day later, as the sun bled its last fiery light over the jagged peaks of the Reach, Torin and Qasim finally laid eyes on their destination. The city walls of Markarth, the capital of the hold, ...

Made in Cyrodiil, Forged in Skyrim #50

Eyes narrowing against the spirit’s ethereal glow, Torin spoke up, his voice cutting through the spectral chill. “Alright. Who are you? And what is it you want?”

The massive, armored sp...

Currency Change!

Hey everyone,

You might have noticed I switched the pricing from USD to EUR. That's because Patreon finally lets creators outside the U.S. get paid straight to their bank—no middleman (Payo...

Made in Cyrodiil, Forged in Skyrim #49

Torin’s stunned silence was broken by the creak of the stairs. Qasim descended with calm purpose, his curved sword held low and ready, while Echo padded hesitantly behind him, her nose twitching ...

Made in Cyrodiil, Forged in Skyrim #48

The innkeeper gave Torin a strange, sidelong look as his laughter finally died down. “Oh? And what did you imagine this place was, then? A den of cutthroats? A coven of witches...

Made in Cyrodiil, Forged in Skyrim #47

Torin leaned back in his chair with a deep, satisfied sigh, pushing the now-empty platter away. It had been a masterpiece of roasted meats—thick slices of tender beef, venison seared to perfectio...

Made in Cyrodiil, Forged in Skyrim #46

After a full day of picking their way across the Reach's unforgiving, stony ribs, they were all feeling it. Torin’s feet ached in his boots, Qasim moved with a quiet weariness, and even Echo’s ...

Made in Cyrodiil, Forged in Skyrim #45

Life in Skyrim had a way of taking the simplest plans and snapping them over its knee. It was a land of strange twists and stranger turns, where a straightforward errand could spiral into a saga be...

Made in Cyrodiil, Forged in Skyrim #44

The common room of the Dead Man’s Drink was quiet, the way only a Falkreath tavern could be. The air was thick with the smell of stew and woodsmoke. Torin sat at his table, the new amulet cool an...

Made in Cyrodiil, Forged in Skyrim #43

The small, hidden camp felt hollow now, its owner nothing but a cooling corpse wrapped in a spare cloak a mile back. Torin sat on a mossy log, the dead bandit's journal open in his hands.

He�...

Made in Cyrodiil, Forged in Skyrim #42

Torin’s fingers wrapped around the haft of the silver throwing axe, the cool metal a familiar comfort. His world narrowed to a single point: the golden-skinned elf staggering back, swatting frant...