Birth of the Burnt Sprigganbyvencuyot©
Disclaimer: I do not own Elder Scrolls, nor any of their works.
The earth we abuse and the living things we kill will, in the end, take their revenge; for in exploiting their presence we are diminishing our future. - Marya Mannes.
Many of you know of Spriggans. Of how those feminine spirits appear, heralded by a buzzing sound akin to angry bees. How these spirits can command any being of nature to attack, even docile cows and deer, anyone foolish enough to trespass on their sacred grounds. There is even talk among some who examine the planes at the College of Winterhold that Kynareth, widow of Shor and Goddess of the Heavens, that she demanded the creation of the Spriggans in exchange for agreeing with her husband Shor for the creation of the mortal planes.
With the recent defeat of Alduin, the world eater by an Altmer Dovahkin, many in Skyrim have visited Solstheim and walked the grounds there. While in Solstheim, many have reported on a variation of the Spriggan, known as a Burnt Spriggan. Though new to Nords and other races that live in Skyrim, there are tales which describe how a Burnt Spriggan came to be. Sit a while and I will tell you.
In the Second Era, after the resolution of the Dragonfires and the Coldharbor crisis, there was a female Nord born in Kynesgrove to two parents. Both parents were ardent followers of the Goddess and they were rumored to be barren. The female child, then, was considered a blessing to the couple. Fair in skin with hair the color of wheat, she spent her formative years with her parents learning of the Goddess and what was expected. She learned that Kynareth was instrumental in both having Men and 'Mer learn the Thu'um and overthrow the Dragons of the First Era.
As she grew, and became even more comely, she learned of the Eight Divines, as Tiber Septim was not yet born. Of brave Akatosh, Chief of the Heavens, He who helped the first Empress form the Cyrodilic Empire; Arkay, Son of Akatosh, whose priests were responsible for helping souls achieve their final destination; "Queen of Heaven" Dibella, patron of women, love and of the Arta; Julianos the God of Mages, Literature and Law; Compassionate Mara; Stendarr, God of Mercy and apologist of Men; and of Zenithar, the God of Work and Trade. While her parents taught her to worship and honor each of the Divines, they preached and praised Kyne as they believed she was the reason their daughter was born.
It was when the daughter was of marriageable age that they were visited by a wandering Seer. This seer spent the night in the Inn and asked to speak to two who were 'blessed by Kyne herself'. Her father and mother came and spoke with the Seer, who explained that Shor had heard their prayers and had decided to bless them with a child. This child, they were told, was a "Dovahkin" or a mortal born with the soul of a dragon. Kyne was promised by her husband to have a guardian for her town and they were to be the guardians until she was of age. She stressed to the parents that the girl was "to never know the touch of Men or 'Mer, else Kyne's wrath will be upon her."
As a travelling priestess of Kyne, and one gifted with the Thu'um, their daughter went throughout the holds of Skyrim. Many wrongs were reversed, and many who walked the path of darkness were sent to Sovengarde. Our tale happened when the Dovahkin, Priestess of Kyne, had recently solved a murder on the Isle of Solstheim. Unknown to her the murderer was one highly favored by Mephala, Daedric Prince of Murder, Sex and Secrets.
The day after she left the mead hall, she was heading to the outskirts of the town. While she was doing so, she accidentally bumped into a stranger.
"Ooof!" he replied, the items in his hands falling to the ground. If the Dovahkin was paying attention, she would have had questions raised as there was some Nightshade and a dagger in a bundle, symbolic of someone trying to contact the Dark Brotherhood of assassins. Another item of concern was some Deathbell and Daedric Hearts. However, she noticed not these things. Instead, she noticed just how handsome the being was.
A Redguard, one of those raven-haired bronze skinned natives of Hammerfell. His almond shaped eyes held irises which were a deep lilac. Garbed in the outfit common to his people, which consisted of a loose fitting tunic dyed snow white, a pair of leather breeches, and a purple head wrap, his gaze glimpsed on the young woman.
"Oh... sorry" she murmured as their eyes locked. Kyne, why was her cheeks blushing like a schoolgirl! The way his eyes contrasted intriguingly against his bronze skin, the chiseled facial features and the well defined muscles of the man brought a stirring within the young woman that she had never felt before. Even the tattoo of a long, slender blade the color of ebony ore against the right side of his neck was striking. His name, sadly, has been lost to history.
"No, no. The sin was all mine." he replied, in a deep rich baritone. His eyes glimpsed upon the woman as he replied "Are you new to this isle?"
"Oh... just passing through. I am a wandering priestess of Kyne" she murmured.
Failing to see how his eyes darken with the name of the Divine, the young male stood still for a moment. This caused the woman to ask questions. What she didn't know was that the male had pledged himself to Mephala, though calling her of another name. His infernal mistress was whispering commands into the young man's ear. Realizing that he seemed to be lost in a daze, he shakes his head.
"Nothing, nothing. Sorry. I am from Hammerfell and the Divines, though we know of them.." he shrugged his shoulders in confusion. This seemed to make the woman more happy, as she always loved to talk of Kyne, widow of Shor. Making small talk, they agreed to meet later that evening in the house the village let the Dovahkin use.
This gave the male time to go shopping and to craft some items. What he crafted, we will see later.
As night fell, there was a knock on the door.
"Who is it?"
"It is I"
Opening the door, the surprised woman let her guest in. She seemed concerned as it was about an hour earlier than what he told her. There was a small feast prepared and she invited her guest in.
While they were eating, talk turned to each other's personal histories. Granted the young male had a lot to hide, he spun an agreeable story of being of a desert tribe, where the men and women were of equally voracious nature regarding their martial prowess.
This impressed the Dovahkin, who could not yet explain the feelings that were brewing from within her. Nor could she explain the slight grin that crossed her face when he said he had no spouse.
"And you, do you have children or a family?" he asked her.
"No... no." Kyne, why was she being so free with her words? It surely couldn't be the bottles of mead she was drinking, could it?
"Kyne herself had dictated I know no man's touch."
"Aye. Seems that my mom and da were barren and I was their blessed child. If you can believe it, I was blessed with the Thu'um as well."
"Do tell? Is there a way I could see it in action? It's so... if you will pardon the expression. It's so... awesome!"
What woman, mind you, when in front of a person she finds attractive, wouldn't mind showing off? For this, maybe, our Dovahkin could be forgiven what she does next. Rising from her chair, she began to undo her hair, which was wound up in a taut bun. Shaking her hair free, there was a small intake of breath.
As she opened her mouth, the male rose from his chair in a rapid fashion. Though Mephala usually prefers her agents to seduce, there are times where blunt force can be utilized in the same fashion for the same purpose. His right hand chopped forward toward her neck to paralyze her throat.
Savoring the look of surprise on the woman's face, he shakes his head as he leans in and whispers. "Dovahkin. Did you honestly expect my Mistress, the Webspinner Mephala, would ignore you sending one of her chosen to Sovengarde?" he asks. A bark of a laugh escapes his lips as the look of dawning horror appears on the woman's face. Struggling to breath, she tried to lift her arms to strike him. Sadly, even though Skyrim taught her daughters to be as strong as the men, when going against a male he is biologically stronger and he was able to keep her in check.
The table was knocked over, food and beverage spilled everywhere as the Webspinner's Champion dragged the Dovahkin to her sleeping mattress. She was roughly pushed forward over the side of the bed. As he kept one hand on her shoulder, the other hand removed a blade and began to rip at her tunic. With each rip of the fabric, it seemed that the woman was growing more petrified. Petrified, and a bit aroused as well.
Her tunic shred, the fullness of her breasts was visible, though he could only get a sideways glimpse. Leaning forward, pushing the swell into the mattress and causing her nipples to rub against the rough sheet used to cover it, he ripped the tunic into serviceable lengths to confine her. Though she could not speak, her body was doing its best to fight him off, to no avail. This seemed to spurn him on.
With her arms finally secured to the bed, he was able to work on her skirt. A part of him was internally praising the Nords for not believing in undergarments as the skirt, made of the same fabric as the tunic, was ripped and shredded, exposing her curvy rear end. This elicited a growl from his lips as he undid his own trousers.
A small smirk escaped his lips as his fingers brushed against the cleft lips, his eyes twinkling. Her writhing and thrashing beforehand in an attempt to get him off of her, was instead of a different sort. Fingertips brushed against her lips as he saw her ass involuntarily rise to greet the ministration.
"For a supposed virgin of the Earth Goddess, you act like one of those Dibellan whores" he growled, his free hand striking her ass once. This caused the Dovahkin to jump a little bit and a small blush to form against her cheeks, though her assailant couldn't see. He continued to caress her pussy with one hand, making veiled remarks about how she eagerly responded to his touches.
"If Mephala didn't wish you to live with the shame of the assault, I would sell you to one of the harems in Dragonstar" he growled. Focused on his own needs for now, he was not remiss in noting that with each caress and brushstroke of the woman, she was getting more aroused. "Uncle always said the stone'd move if there was enough friction" he grumbled.
His shaft, freed of its confines, slowly entered the Dovahkin's pussy. Befitting one from the Hammerfell region, it was uncircumcised and rather thick. Hands used to hold the woman in place were instead transferred to her hips to help guide him as he began to thrust. As her windpipe's spasms cleared and starting to allow words to come out again, he was surprised. It seemed like she was making, instead of noises of protest, noises of undulation. Also of concern was a deeper alto voice laughing as he continued.
Feeling the warmth of the Dovahkin on his shaft, he growled. Pushing harder and faster, he increased the tempo of the thrusts. What surprised him was the fact she was pushing back, giving almost as good as she took.
He didn't notice the fact that heat was building up in the home given her, nor the fact that it seemed her pale skin was starting to become rather... amber in color. All he knew was that this was the tightest piece of ass he ever had and it just felt damn good... well... just rutting. For it was all that could be said of the act; there was no passion, no true seduction.
As he orgasmed, spent and content, there were a few things which came to his attention. The first was that the shack appeared to be on fire. Flames crackled and engulfed everything. Another thing, which he found quite bothersome, was the fact he could not pull out of the Dovahkin. Finally, and here was the kicker, he smelt burned flesh and roasting fat. It took him a moment to realize that he was the one on fire!
With a scream, he pulled out and landed right on his ass. Rolling around, trying to smother the flames, he heard a voice which was both rich and promised to consume him reply:
He rolled onto his backside and looked upward. Where the Nord beauty had been , was one of the treefolk known as Spriggans in all her naked splendor,. But where those he knew of had a light green tint on their bark, this one had a burnt amber tint.
"Did you not think I'd notice you violating one of my champions? Did you not think the Divines would find umbrage to this?" the voice asked as the burnt Spriggan walked around him, akin to a wild predator waiting for the prey to die. As the flames continued to consume him and the surroundings, the Spriggan whispered:
"Give my regard to Webspinner. Tell her she succeeded. With Arkay's help, I now have a new personification of my wrath here. Tell Webspinner she helped give birth to the Burnt Spriggan. Isn't she lovely?"
With that, as the male's consciousness began to fade, a cackle could be heard from the Spriggan. What concerned him, as his flesh was reduced to cinder and the shack destroyed, was that his own Mistress's laugh echoed with the Spriggan's. Before succumbing to the darkness, he heard both voices say the same thing:
"Be proud. Your child, the Burnt Spriggan, will continue to guard the Earth. To guard this section of Tamriel."
Ah. So you're back traveler. Good to know, and good to hear. I suppose I should answer some of your questions, since the Solstheim incident has been resolved. Fair enough.
If you're wondering what happened to the first Burnt Spriggan, the Dovahkin, Last Dragonborn, was there with his spouse Aela of the Companions and their housecarl Lydia of Whiterun. Each has confirmed the story that the Dovahkin was given a dream of what happened by Kyne herself. Lady Kyne whispered that the Burnt Spriggan had suffered and needed to be reunited with her father in Sovengarde. As both the songs Age of Oppression and Age of Aggression share the same lyric:
We're the children of Skyrim and we fight all our lives. And when Sovengarde beckons, every one of us dies!
They ended her suffering and allowed her to pass.
Ah, I see my explanation raised another question. If you haven't already gathered, I am the mother of the Dovahkin who became the Burnt Spriggan. Now go on, please. I'm an old woman and I need my rest. I fear my time is almost done.
The storyteller's body was discovered a few days later, having passed in her sleep. A book chronicling her life was found in her effects. In it, in an entry written the day she passed was this line from the song The Dragonborn Comes:
And the fiercest foes shout when they hear triumph's shout, Dragonborn for your blessing we pray!