#lurbuk

I was tagged by @dirty-bosmer @gilgamish and @tallmatcha last week so now I am queuing up my WIP Wednesday post for early morning so it is YOU WHO ARE THE TAGGED BWAHAHAHA

Fandom: The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim Rating: T (blood and violence) Category: gen Genre(s): Adventure, Homer retelling Main characters: Borgakh the Steel Heart, the Orcs of Mor Khazgur

Summary: Borgakh is a dutiful daughter of Mor Khazgur, an orc stronghold in a remote corner of the Reach that has existed since the Merethic era. Expected to someday become the shield-wife of a distant chieftain, Borgakh tries to uphold the Code of Malacath as best she can. But when her father, the chief of their stronghold, goes missing while on a quest for vengeance, the suitors that show up to vie for his place cause no end of trouble and threaten the strength of Mor Khazgur. Borgakh soon finds herself traveling far from home across the Druadach Mountains to find her father and save the stronghold.

The fic so far is here on AO3.

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Borgakh stood, and Kharag lifted his head from the patch of clover at her movement. She looked around wildly. She could not un-hobble and hide Kharag in time to conceal both of them. The voices grew louder, and a branch snapped, echoing around the tall rocks that lined the clearing. The people coming down the path were not trying to be stealthy.

“If Forge-Mother hears you say that—” a young Orc, tall but thin, pushed through the brush on the far side of the little spring, saw Borgakh, and stopped dead in his tracks. They stared at each other: his mouth open around unsaid words and her hand hovering over her undrawn sword.

”Oof!” He staggered forward, pushed by another Orc stepping from the thicket.

“Hey, watch it Lurbuk—” This Orc was older, and instead of the tunic and jerkin of the younger one, he wore several skins around his waist and shoulders; his chest was bare. He too stared at Borgakh.

Both carried several rabbits at their belts; the younger one had a sling and a knife strapped to his hip, while the older had a bow at his back and the handle of a hatchet poked out from behind his quiver.

The younger of the two recovered first, pulled himself up to his full height, and spoke. “You stand on Dushnikh Yal terri—” his voice broke in a hoarse squeak, and a bronze flush bloomed on his cheeks as he continued, “—territory, identify yourself!”

Rolling his eyes, the other Orc pushed him out of the way and approached Borgakh. “I’m Nagrub, son of Arob, Hunts-Wife of Dushnikh Yal. This is Lurbuk, son of Hearth-Wife Umogza. Who are you? Why do you come armed onto our stronghold’s land?”

Borgakh lifted her chin, looking down her nose at the two, though it was challenging with Nagrub as he was at least a hand taller than she. “I am Borgakh Abbas, daughter of Bagrak, Shield-Wife of Mor Khazgur. I am on a quest from Malacath.”

Whatever answer Nagrub was expecting, it did not seem to be that. His brow climbed in surprise, but he recovered quickly.

“You can’t be an abbas,” Lurbuk interrupted whatever his brother was about to say. “You’re just a child!”

fandom || Skyrim rating || G categories || gen pairings || f!OC&Lurbuk genre || comedy characters of note || Lurbuk status || 1/1, 3.4k

He was bottom of his class during his tenure at the Bard’s College, but now, he’s the savior of Skyrim. These are the adventures of Lurbuk, Tamriel’s worst bard, and the unlucky assassin hired to kill him.

***

“So, you’re here to kill me?”

“Yes.”

“But you can’t because…?”

Just a few feet away, a dragon was dead. Its thousands of sharp bones pointed up to Aetherius. Several minutes earlier, the dragon’s soul had dissipated from its body, along with its scales, and been absorbed into a bard’s body. It also appeared that this bard was, in fact, the Last Dragonborn and had the ability to harness the power of the Thu’um, just like the legends said.

She blinked at him.

I'm still fighting with this outline but I like this (fragment of a) scene I wrote early on in the process. A meet cute, by Skyrim standards, and introductions. It's just over 700 words.

--

Ghorbash didn't often find himself away from Dushnikh Yal, but when he did, he was usually in Morthal. His uncle, self-exiled after the last chief overtook from their father, was the notoriously terrible bard of the Moorside Inn, and often when Ghorbash had disagreements with his own brother and the current chief, Burguk, he would take on the journey to clear his mind and remind himself (perhaps, cruelly to Lurbuk) that life outside the stronghold wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

This time, however, as he chatted and drank with his uncle, a stranger tumbled through the doors. A Bosmer, hair red as blood and clutching his hand to his chest, the fingers blackening.

Tagged by my friend @tallmatcha — be sure to check out her wonderfully wistful excerpt on Einarth looking back on his years at High Hrothgar!

This is from a crazy story I hope to publish within the next few weeks: a Christmas fic pairing Lurbuk, the horrible Orc bard of Morthal, and Balagog gro-Nolob — better known as the Gourmet. In-game, both of them end up unfortunate targets of the Dark Brotherhood. But what if instead they ended up meeting each other and having a grand old time together?

Saturalia in Morthal! The most wonderful day of the year, in the happiest village in all of Skyrim; it was almost enough to send tears running down Lurbuk’s face as he played.

“Joy and exultation, merriment and cheer, won’t you lend this fine Orc your ear?” Lurbuk followed up this wonder of song with a masterful performance on his lute. His fingers danced along the strings like spiders in their death throes. “Gifts and good friendship, and sweet candies abound, for the largest Nord and the smallest hound! Happy Saturalia, Morthal!”

Oh, if only a tiny dog had been present, that last part would have landed perfectly! Instead the effect was only amazing, but such a minor issue could hardly detract from Lurbuk’s bright mood. He hummed a lovely tune and swayed his way around the Moorside Inn. Jonna, his most loyal and dedicated of patrons, sat behind her bar watching with a glaze to her eyes any festive sweetroll would have envied. This was certainly not the first time sweet Lurbuk’s singing had mesmerized his good host!

The other resident of the inn sat on a stool in front of the bar and stared into the depths of his tankard.

Lurbuk sidled up beside him and laughed. “You know, Thonnir, that line about ‘the largest’ Nord...that was you! Happy Saturalia, my friend.”

Thonnir set down his tankard, but did not look up at fair Lurbuk. “Saturalia? Truly? S’pose I haven’t really been keeping track of the days. Y'know, it used to be Laelette’s favorite holiday. We would stay up all night just talkin’ and laughin’ with each other. And now here I am. Sittin’ in the village inn, listenin’ to you. Mara have mercy.”

“I know, I know.” Lurbuk plucked one of his lute strings emphatically, and Thonnir’s face went all funny. Now I’ve got him! Somehow, noting the impact of his music never grew old for Morthal’s favorite bard. “Who could imagine a more splendid setting to spend these joyous hours?”

Coloured sketches of some underrated NPCs that deserve more attention!

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Malacath (Elder Scrolls), Trinimac (Elder Scrolls), Dwemer (Elder Scrolls), Original Dwemer Character(s), Original Orsimer Character(s), Volendrung, Lurbuk (Elder Scrolls), Original Female Orsimer Character(s) Additional Tags: Epic Poetry, Poetry, Bards, Bisexual Male Character, Lost Love Series: Part 3 of Nahlnehviir - "Living and Never Dying" Summary:

This third chapter is the first interlude of the ancient epic poem, The Ballad of Wayland , into the story. The Ballad is set sometime in the 8th or 9th century of the first era, although scholars often debate it’s time frame and legitimacy as a historical document. It is a backstory to Nahlnehviir and explores some original ideas about Orsimer culture. It also introduces a new city and province into Tamriel: Wayland.