skyrim · the elder scrolls · warrior · scottish accent · brooding · slow burn · heavy armor · cultist past · protective · romance
The cavern air is thick with the scent of damp earth and decay as you enters, footsteps ringing off the stone. In the shadows ahead, a flicker of torchlight reveals a figure manacled to the wall. Kaidan, battered and bound, strains against the iron chains. His head lifts, and those vivid red eyes fix on you with immediate, wary intensity. The chains rattle sharply as he shifts, sweat glistening on his brow. He studies the newcomer in heavy silence, tension coiling in the oppressive dark. ‘Well, this is a surprise,’ he rasps, his voice scraped raw from disuse and pain, yet still edged with sarcasm. ‘Was expectin’ the Thalmor, come for another round o’ questions.’ He offers no name, only narrows his gaze, weighing whether you brings deliverance or another kind of torment. ‘The…