Spur of the moment, forgive me thy brethren if this tale of glory is not worthy of the man whom I shall speak of. And let his words shake your soul.
The Dragonborn Comes.
Ten gold coins stacked up on the table as the wooden door slammed shut. The bard barely looked up as the wanderer sat down. She rolled her eyes, dam them all, the cold hurt her fingers. She sighed, sweeping her palms through the flames to cast away the chill before picking up her instrument.
"Which song sir?" She asked.
The wanderer smiled slightly, "The Dragonborn Comes." He answered as he adjusted himself in the chair. His leather jerkin tight on his chest, the fully scaled ebony on the sleeves shown signs of recent use, and his sword set on the floor beside him. He rested back, his cold black eyes nearly covered by the black and red hood as he stared at the mead.
The opening cords struck. She figured the wanderer didn't care if she sped the old song up, she liked to add her own twist on it. And she repeated the verses double anyway.
Our Hero, our Hero claims a warrior's heart
I tell you, I tell you the Dragonborn comes
With a voice wielding power of ancient Nord Art.
There was a small smile on the wanderers face as he set a bow on the table, then she noted his oddly scaled leggings and boots. They seemed to be made with an oddly mysterious, but familiar scales. She shook it off and continued.
Believe, believe the Dragonborn comes
It's an end to the evil, of all Skyrim's foes
Beware, beware the Dragonborn comes
She heard a loud echoing sound in the distance. Almost like a roar.
For the darkness has passed and the legend yet grows
You'll know, you'll know Dragonborn's come.
He seemed to mutter "Not yet it hasn't." As she said the first line and nod his head slightly at the second verse. She frowned, this wasn't a normal man. She could tell. No normal man would be walking around in that odd armor, nor carrying both a sword and a bow.
Dovahkiin Dovahkiin
Naal ok zin los vahriin
wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal
ahrk fin norok paal graan
fod nust hon zindro zaan
Dovahkiin fah hin kogaan mu draal
The roar shook the building as the man stood. He was taller than her by at least four inches. Then again, she wasn't all that tall. He smiled and grabbed the sword off the ground. The words of the song echoing though her head.
Our Hero, our Hero claims a Warriors heart
I tell you, I tell you the Dragonborn Comes.
The straw roof exploded as the rafters were ripped straight off the frame. She dropped her instrument. The worries of cold and pay gone as she stared at the blood red dragon whom stared at her. The wanderer laughed and unsheathed his sword.
With a voice wielding power of ancient Nord Art
Believe, believe the Dragonborn comes
The power filled his lungs as he took a deep breath. He was inside and didn't want to damage the building any more than it already was. "FUS RO" The words exploded from his mouth. The shimmering shockwave slamming the dragon back and spreading its wings to catch itself.
It's an end to the evil, of all Skyrim's foes
Beware, beware the Dragonborn comes
He laughed as he hopped onto the bar, then to the wooden wall top. He jumped, catching the talons of the beast, his feet swinging him up and onto its lower back. He scampered up the dragon, barely pausing to spit mead into its eyes before slashing the sword across its face. He jumped, executing a tight flip to have himself upside-down as he shouted into its face. "YOL TOOR SHUL" The power once again exploded from his lithe figure, sending the brilliant blast of searing heat into the stunned dragon.
He landed smiling as the shout ignited once again on the mead soaking into the wound. The fire exploding once more inside the dragon's scales.
For the darkness has passed and the legend yet grows
You'll know, you'll know the Dragonborn's come.
The dragon fell, the fire extinguishing it's life as it coursed through its veins, rapidly cooking it inside-out. She fell to her knees as the dragon's skin evaporated, it's scales, skin, muscles, everything was burned away. Then a white light erupted from it and soaked into the wanderer. She gasped.
You'll know, you'll know the Dragonborn's come
Dovahkiin Dovahkiin
Naal ok zin los vahriin
wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal
ahrk fin norok paal graan
fod nust hon zindro zaan
Dovahkiin fah hin kogaan mu draal
A writer's tale can only go so far. And the tale is ended, with a Dragonborn's part. Enjoy wanderers, adventures, warriors, thieves, and soldiers. Maybe his tale will come again. If not…enjoy the legend while it lasts. ( watch?v=bsP63Kz9kYE)
