A/N:This is just a silly little Skyrim spoof that I'm writing with my brother, he's the real genuis behind this! Hope you enjoy it!
"There's a pile of bodies at the door! Let's loot them!" shouted Thane Ribcrusher the Orc before charging towards the corpses.
"I saw them first!' yelled Lydia as she barrelled across the hall. However, Ribcrusher reached the pile first. He discovered a heavy elven warhammer on the top body and immediately shoved it into his bottomless pockets. Sadly, he was now over encumbered. Sifting through his pockets, he searched for something to give to Lydia as a 'wedding gift'. He lifted out an old iron warhammer with a bright pink handle.
"Where in Oblivion did I get this?" he exclaimed.
"LYDIA! LYDIA! LYDIA!" he bellowed, looking around. Completing a full 360 degree turn, he found himself face to face with his 'loyal' follower.
"What is it, my Thane?" she questioned innocently, fluttering her eyelashes from beneath her steel helmet.
"Lydia! Where did you go? I thought I'd lost you! Here, have a present!"
"I'm sworn to carry your burdens..." she sassed sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
"I love you too, Lydia."
It was then that the Priest of Malacath interjected. "Will the bride and groom please refrain from looting the wedding guests, deceased or otherwise?"
The couple began to walk down the aisle, Ribcrusher slightly in front.
SNAP!
"Ow!"
Ribcrusher turned round and was not surprised to see Lydia with her foot stuck in a bear trap.
"What are they doing here? I ordered mead, not bear traps! Lydia, is this your doing?"
"They're for you!" Lydia smashed the bear trap with her new wedding gift and grinned maniacally.
"Happy wedding day, lad!" shouted Brynjolf, the best man.
"I've been meaning to ask, why do you have a Scottish accent? I mean, you're a Nord, all the other Nord's accents are.. well... Nordic," asked Ribcrusher.
"This is no time for impertinent questions and long-winded answers... lad."
SMASH!
Lydia came up behind Brynjolf and cracked him across the head.
"Skyrim's for the Nords!" she yelled.
"I am a Nord, you crazy woman!
"Now you'll pay!"
The priest interjected again."Can we please get on with the ceremony please? I need to go and hit things!"
"By Malacath! A fellow Orc! Ribcrusher yelled. The priest glared at him. But then there was another interruption.
"By the Gods! A dragon!" shouted a random elderly women walking by.
"Save me Lydia!" Ribcrusher shouted, pushing Lydia out of the door and closing the door behind her.
So there she stood, just Lydia, against a dragon ten times her size. The dragon unleashed from its maw deadly fire, which incinerated everything in the area. Except Lydia.
"Like the bite of a flea!" she yelled, before firing off an arrow at the dragon which was now about to make a pass and make another attempt at incineration. The arrow whizzed forth and struck the dragon in the chest. It plummeted to the ground in a pile of dust. Lydia ran forward, hoping to catch the dragon off guard, but she was too slow. The dragon rose and swiped her down, and she was sent flying back against the temple's door. Ribcrusher smashed the door open, barely missing Lydia's head.
"Lydia! What happened?" he yelled.
"I'll avenge you!" With that, he charged towards the dragon, pausing to drink a potion of Resist Fire.
He drew his bow, accidentally notching it with one of the worst arrows that he carried. He took a deep breath and prepared to loose off the arrow at the dragon. Suddenly, Lydia popped into view.
"Slay it! Slay the dragon!" she screamed, brandishing her weapon.
"LYDIA! LYDIA! LYDIA! You're always in the way!" Ribcrusher shouted. But it was too late. He had loosed the arrow. It flew true and straight, hitting Lydia's helmet and bouncing off.
"Hey, an arrow!" Ribcrusher exclaimed joyfully, like a child with a stick. He pushed past his housecarl, bending to retrieve the arrow. "Oh, it's only one of those rubbish ones," he sulked, adding it to his quiver.
The dragon reared back its fearsome, scaly head, it's jaws gaping wide in a roar that shook the timber houses. From its jaws, flames burst forth, headed straight for Lydia. She charged forth, heedless of the danger, leaping onto the dragon's head in a heroic dive. Gripping on with her knees, she hefted the warhammer above her head, bringing it down in a crashing blow against the dragon's skull. It collapsed to the ground, dead, sending up a cloud of dust.
As its body shivered and began to disintegrate, its scales blowing away in the wind, Lydia stepped out of the ashes.
Ribcrusher sprinted forwards to loot the corpse.
"What's the hurry?" Lydia asked his speeding form. She turned around. "A dragon! By the gods, what happened here?"
"Urgh, heavy dragon bones," Ribcrusher snorted. "Here, I want to trade some things with you, Lydia."
"Come here, you big ugly lump of orc," the housecarl said and pulled Ribcrusher into a loving embrace. His ribs creaked in protest, the joints of his armour squealing lovingly.
"Let's go get married," he sighed, kissing her on the cheek.
"Oh, yeah. Hang on, why do these houses NEVER catch fire?"
The malacath priest stormed out of the church, waving his ceremonial bludgeon. He walked up to the bride and groom, then hit them on the head, one after the other.
"I now pronounce you orc and wife," he snarled, an encouraging smile on his face.
Lydia accepted the bludgeon from the priest. She weighted in her hands, testing the weight, before smacking it heavily against Ribcrusher's helmet.
Swaying slightly, he said "I accept your proposal, Lydia. May Malacath watch over us."
He wrenched the bludgeon from her hands and returned the hit. Lydia crumpled to the ground romanticly, the front of her helmet dented with love.
"Lydia! What have I done?" The big orc fell to his knees beside the woman and cradled her in his arms. She opened her eyes and looked up at him.
"Get off me, you stupid Nord," she mumbled, eyes unfocused.
"Oh Lydia, do you remember when we first met...?"