How not to Dragon-born
Breornic liked to drink, it was his second love after smashing the skulls off skeletons and breaking the bones of freshly resurrected Draugr. After a few days of wandering around various tombs and crypts in the search for loot, nothing tasted better than a well-earned ale or some Nord mead whilst eating a roasting hot meal from the local Inn.
This day however, was not a celebratory meal and the drink was not mead but a weak watered down wine, sitting at a table in the Riverwood Inn he pondered over his meal the reason for the foul mood in which he had awoke. He thought back to the previous days travel down to Helgen after crossing the imperial border. Here he had stumbled upon the freshly wrought ruins of what had once been a bustling border town with high walls and a battle hardened garrison, however the destruction was complete with little to be salvaged amidst the blackened corpses and burnt out rubble.
Moving swiftly on from the devastated town he headed for the next town along the road and into Riverwood where he sought a bed at the Inn. Waking that morning left him a foul mood, wondering at what could cause such destruction to such a peaceful and well-guarded town. After musing over this topic for some time he decided it was not of his concern and the local Jarl would have the matter well in hand, grunting with satisfaction at this thought he went ahead to prepare for his days task. Finishing his meal Breornic went a stored his unessential belongings into his room, which he had renting for another night taking only the equipment that he would need for the small adventure ahead. He was to head out of Riverwood and over the old stone bridge he heading northward up towards the mountainous peaks rising over the clouds surrounding the small village towards Bleak fall barrow, an old crypt as of yet unexplored and hopefully littered with loot and valuables.
Donning his battle tested steel armour and hefting his steel warhammer he set out towards the barrow. Setting eastward out of town and across the old stone bridge he headed up the winding trails, overgrown with flora and fauna of various varieties, not pausing long enough to even admire these herbs and potential alchemical ingredients Breornic kept his mind focused on the path beneath his feet at goal set atop the frosted peaks rising above him. The path was seldom used and treacherous underfoot, this however did not bother the warrior, the constant howling and harassment from the local wolf population however did prove to be an irritant to the climb.
After chasing off what must have been the fifth wolf in as many minutes Breornic turned the corner nearing the peak of the hillside. He noticed a watchtower in the near distance, yet strangely this tower was not deserted as there were fires flickering in the windows, presumably from camp fires or candles. Knowing the dangerous nature of the province and the likelihood of bandits nestling in the area he proceeded with caution, warhammer at the ready.
The wind whistled around and over the peaks surrounding the Cliffside where the watchtower stood, slightly protecting from the rising peaks the snow underfoot remained unmoved for some time, and within the fresh snow Breornic could make out the distinct shape of footprints heading straight for the tower ahead of him. Using these steps as a guide he carefully followed these prints leading to the door, until the moment he nearly fell over the corpse of what appeared to be a bandit lying still, crimson stark against the blinding white of the snow around him. A quick analysis and examination of the surrounding area showed a short brutal fight between the unlucky bandit and an unknown other, heading into the tower across a narrow stone bridge Breornic discovered two more bodies left unceremoniously inside the ruined tower, which had clearly been looted in the process of murdering the bandits.
Judging by the freshness of the blood and the lack of snow and frost coating the bodies the killer of the bandits could not be too far ahead, realisation of this fact made Breornic think twice about rushing ahead. Carefully picking his way around the bodies, and taking anything of value left behind. Breornic headed around the bluff to find Bleak falls barrow spanned out and displayed in all of its ancient glory before him.
Towering edifices and walkways rose above the snowy tundra, winged peaks and archways extended gloriously reaching towards the sky. Depictions of dragons at rest and in flight adorned the grand structure, the walkways overlooking the stairs up to the main courtyard offered supreme defensive advantage to any who would project the ancient structure.
Following the single line of footprints headed directly for the staircase up to the courtyard Breornic carried himself ready for ambush, warhammer grasped ready to block an incoming attack. Regardless of bandit or unknown killer, they would find Breornic ready to defend himself should an attack occur. Reaching the foot of the grand staircase Breornic strode over four more bandits, carelessly slaughtered and left the bleed red over the ancient stone. Muttering darkly to himself about the nature of this would be bandit slayer, Breornic almost considered turning back but before a decision could be reached he crested the top of the stairs and looked right towards the entrance to the barrow proper. Stopping still upon witnessing the figure stood before those great doors, blood drenched, shrouded in shadow with a shield over the left arm and a sword dripping crimson in his right.
From this distance the man in question cut a rather unimposing figure, in fact he was a distinctly unremarkable fellow, clad in a battered and unkempt imperial uniform, carrying very little except his weaponry and coin purse, the thin, wiry and short imperial before him did showed nothing to warrant the destruction left in his wake. The little man turned to look over his shoulder meeting the gaze of the towering mass of Steel armour and heavy warhammer that was Breornic, gazing languidly he turned to face the barbarian warrior.
Without preamble and carrying a look of contempt the little man made his way towards Breornic, nonchalantly strolling across the divide between the two men. Breornic was too stunned to move, still trying to figure out how this tiny homunculus had defeated several moderately well-equipped bandits and wondering what hidden talents this man must obviously possess.
During Breornic's momentary internal monologue the small warrior had crossed the space in between them and then with a look of utter boredom stretched across his face thrust his sword straight towards the barbarian's undefended chest!
A searing ring of metal striking metal accompanied by a scream of pain jolted Breornic's mind back to his surroundings, as the inferior rusted iron of the oppositions sword had met the refined and treated steel of his breastplate, the blade had shattered sending a sharp retort back along the blade and handle breaking the tiny man's arm in several places, causing him to screech in pain and fall to the ground cradling his injured arm. A flicker of fear and pain flashed intermittently across the young man's face as he stared up into the unwavering gaze of the mountainous Breornic, managing to catch his breath for a short moment, the smaller form cried petulantly;
"This is not supposed to happen! Why didn't you die?"
Breornic could only look down in wonder as the imperial sulked up at him, silent tears rolling down his face. Once the initial shock of all that had occurred began to wear off Breornic started with the realisation that the impudent whelp before him had tried to kill him! And had scratched his armour with his pathetic blade, that was at least 25 Septims to repair! Rage slowly started to boil within, threatening to break into a flood. Slowly he took a wider stance, warhammer slowly and gradually beginning to raise above his head. Imperial eyes widened and a barely a word had formed on his lips when a heavy steel hammer head swung round in a vicious arc and landed squarely between his eyes!Aa sickening crunch and fountain of blood and brain matter flew through the air as Breornic brought his completed swing on the now red stained snow.
Methodically wiping the blood off his weapon on the now dead man's tunic Breornic began muttering to himself,
"Stupid boy, what did he think he was doing playing the hero, this isn't a game?"
Sighing slightly and standing tall he heading towards the barrow doors, as he started out he swore that a loud roar could be heard in the distance, one of joy and euphoria, as though some battle had just been won. Pushing the sound from his mind and muttering darkly to himself, Breornic headed into the barrow in search for loot and valuables and whatever darkness may wait within.