Dragonborn Origins: Thrall
I'm awake. I glance around me, somehow familiar with these walls, yet unsure where I am, or even who I am. I am unsteady... I reach out and see a dark green arm press against a rough stone wall. The pressure of the points in the rock confirms that I am at last awake.
In a rush, I begin to remember things. I am Grognut, an Orc of Skyrim, and I have been in a haze ever since I can remember. I look to my hands, examining them for some sign of my recent fate.
They are well calloused, indicating I've been doing some sort of manual labour during my time out of full consciousness. My claws have dulled somewhat, meaning I haven't been fighting much recently.
On the tip of my right little finger sits a ring, and I sense a small amount of magical power exuding from it. I push it down, securing it more fully below the knuckle. As I do, I feel the confusion leaving me further. I have a faint memory of accidentally putting my finger through it just before I awoke, which points to this ring being enchanted to resist magic spells. My last memory comes rushing back to me. I remember seeing a man in robes then a flash of light. I've been under the spell of a magician!
Looking around, I realize that I stand next to a strange table which glows with runes and symbols. If my memory serves, it is an enchantment table, and probably the source of the ring's enchantments. A few other rings and a set of dark robes lay on the table as well.
I hear a shuffle of feet from nearby, and I turn to see a small man, a Nord, in black robes approaching. The Nord has a skull amulet around his neck, and a few silver rings on his fingers. His eyes blaze with a determination unusual for one his size. A black beard adorns his chin, and he holds a glowing crystal in his left hand, a soul gem. Seeing my look of confusion, his face stretches in a matching look.
I quickly dull my expression and say, attempting to keep his suspicions down, "What is your bidding, Master?"
The Nord's face returns to a soft grin. He seems reassured of my continuing service. "Clean up this mess!" He shouts, pointing to a spot behind me. Turning to look, I see a pile of random junk that filled the area farther back in the cave. I set to work, methodically sorting each item into categories to sell, keep, or throw out, as directed by the Nord.
Eventually, the Nord grows bored of supervising me, and leaves the room momentarily. Leaping upon this chance, I quickly grab a steel dagger from the pile and hide it in my palm. When the Nord returns, he immediately suspects something is up, as I've stopped working.
"Why have you stopped?" He cries, "You're my thrall! Do my bidding!"
"Vengeance is mine!" I shout, and charge. To his credit, he manages to dodge my first strike, narrowly missing being hewn in two with my dagger. As I turn to attack again, the Nord throws a spell, likely meaning to reenchant me. I push through it, feeling my ring wicking the spell from my body. With a quick motion, I grab hold of the Nord by the scruff of his robes with my left hand and place the dagger to his throat with my right.
"Why did you do this to me?" I shout.
"Because I needed a thrall. And Orcs make fine servants." He sneers back, though I can see the fright in his eyes already.
I shove him against the wall, scraping and tearing his robes against the rough stone wall. "How long? How long have you stolen from my life?!" My rage builds, ready to burst.
"Only a year...so far." He somehow maintains his composure despite my rage.
As I'm about to end his miserable life, I feel a presence behind me. I look back momentarily and see a long wicked dagger hanging in the air just behind me. A voice seems to flow from everywhere at once. "Yes, take my blade and take your revenge!" It whispers.
In a whirl, I swing around and grab the blade by the pommel. With a shout, I ram it through the Nord's ribs, burying it to the cross guard. The Nord falls dead instantly.
Recovering from my bloodlust, I turn to where the dagger hung. I catch a glimpse of a demonic figure, which is quickly replaced by a smiling man, floating lazily in the air. "First rate revenge, if I may say," He chuckles.
"What do you want from me?" I ask, "and it is only tradition among Orsimer to severely punish those who do wrong against us." I pull the dagger from the Nord's chest. "I suppose I should return your weapon, sir Daedric lord."
"You have a quick mind for an Orc. Indeed, I am Mehrunes Dagon, Lord of Mischief. I could use a Mer like you. How would you like to serve under me?"
"How may I serve thee?" I respond, knowing never to insult a Daedric Lord. After all, they are extremely powerful beings.
"I will make you my champion of this realm. Simply go about your business as a warrior, and I will be with you as your benefactor. All I ask is that you carry my blade, "Mehrunes' Razor", and stain it with the blood of your enemies often." I look down at the weapon, and it floats out of the Nords and flies to my hand.
Turning my attention back to Dagon, I reply, "That I can do, Sir Dagon. Though do not be offended if I use a larger weapon at times, as your "Razor" is quite small for an Orc." I huff politely.
"Fair enough," he shrugs, "Fare thee well, Grognut, Champion of Skyrim!" And with a small whisper, the man disappears.
I breath a sigh of relief. The Daedra are not always so nice to mortals, especially Dagon. Heck, he tried to destroy the empire completely not 300 years ago. I decide not to worry too much about it.
I kick the Nord out of the way and carefully pick through the piles of armor. I find a good set of Steel Armor. After strapping it on, I also grab a nice Elven War Axe so I have something besides Mehrunes Razor.
I also grab a small bag from a corner, and toss anything of value inside to sell at the nearest town. Strapping on my new weaponry, I begin to leave the cave, but first I turn and give the Nord a swift kick to the head for good measure.
-T-
I step out into the light, blinking at the brightness. I guess that's what happens when you've been in a cave for a year.
Luckily, I recognize the area. I am just south of the City of Solitude. I figure that I can get to the road by heading up toward Solitude. After traveling for a few moments, I sit down on a rock to rest. I feel like I haven't had a solid night's sleep in over a year, which seems entirely possible.
Just as I begin to relax, I hear the howling of wolves nearby. Grunting with the effort, I raise myself back off the rock. My axe skids from my belt with a soft scrape, and, searching the horizon, I spot a pack of 3 wolves headed my way.
"Finally, some true bloody combat," I grumble to myself.
As the first wolf approaches, I grab the Razor in my off hand and prep my attack. The wolf leaps to tear out my throat, but I smack it down with the side of my axe. I then quickly bring the Razor down, ending the wolf's life quickly.
Another wolf leaps to take me from above as I crouch. With a roar, I swing my axe overhead, cleaving open the wolf's torso.
As I kick the corpse from my blade, I see the third wolf trying to make a getaway, having seen its brothers' deaths. I heave my axe, throwing it straight and true into the wolf's legs, crippling it with large wounds across its hind legs. I calmly walk toward the final wolf with just a bit of swagger. It feels good to be back in business, fighting as an Orc should. I whisper "For Dagon," and slit the wolf's throat with the Razor.
I stand and roar as is the custom of my people, a great roar of triumph, "Braaaaagh!"
"Raaaaaaaaaaaaasssshhh"
Another roar comes from just to the south, which confuses me, as it doesn't sound Orcish at all. What else could roar like that?
Suddenly a huge gray creature whips past me from the hill to the south, a great reptilian beast! A Dragon!? It drops behind a hill to the north before I get another look, but I feel certain it must be a dragon.
I remembered the stories of the Dragons, long dead since the days of Ysgramor and the old Blades. It has always been every Orc's dream to face an enemy as great as the dragons of old. Now, I would get to see a dragon in the flesh!
I begin to run north, giddy at the prospect of so great a battle. I crest the hill, and see a horrific scene.
A small group of yellow garbed soldiers, the guards of Solitude, are regrouping behind a ruined tower. The great beast, more clearly a dragon now that I get a good look, is standing amongst the corpses of multiple dead guards. Quickly, I pick my way down the hill, sort of sneaking up behind the dragon.
The band of guards come around the tower, making for the dragon. I watch the reptile rear up, ready to roast these last guards, but I smash the head of my war axe right into its left leg. It mostly bounces off, but the small gash I create surprises the dragon, knocking it off balance. It doesn't fall, but the momentary lapse allows the guards to draw closer without dying.
As the dragon turns to face me, I grab a steel battle axe off of the ground and shout at the dragon. As it lashes out to bite me, I roll away, stuffing the axe down its throat. I get a few cuts from its teeth, but they quickly stop hurting as a guard casts a healing spell.
"Thanks," I growl, unsheathing the Razor.
The dragon seems to choke for a moment, but then its throat glows red and orange, releasing a wave of heat. Rivulets of melted steel trickle from every crevice of the dragon's snout. It melted the axe!
I quickly grab up a shield from the ground, deciding I'll need to be a bit more tactical here.
"Rain your arrows upon him," I shout to the guards, "I'll draw his attention." I quickly lift my shield, blocking a stream of fire as the dragon attacks. I circle around slowly, keeping the dragon's attention as a numerous arrows strike the dragon's back. We trade blows, and I manage to get a few good strikes in; the gashes bleed into the dragon's mouth and nose, distracting it momentarily each time its nose clogs. I take a few slashes and get some burns, but I'm surprised how well I hold up.
Eventually, I grow sick of waiting, and engage the dragon directly once more. Once it's nose clogs again, I run right up and heave myself onto its head. Hanging on for dear life, I manage to use the Razor to put out the dragon's eyes, then chop over and over with my war axe until it gives up. Finally, I whisper "For Dagon" and wiggle the Razor through the scales, driving it into the brain of the dragon.
I leap off as a strange reaction begins to occur. The dragon is spontaneously combusting! The dragon burns for a few moments, until only bones remain. Then, a strange energy flows from the skeleton, rushing straight at me. I take the assault head on, expecting an impact and pain, but the waves enter my body softly, revitalizing my strength to a point greater than I've felt since I awoke.
I feel a great pressure build in my lungs, and I open my mouth to release it, shouting a syllable pushing at my mind: "FUS!" I Shout.
A wave of force rattles the skeleton before me, and bends the nearby trees. The Solitude guards gather around me, in awe of my strange power.
"How'd you do that?" "Do it again!" "Hail the dragon slayer!" "Are you dragonborn?" They say all at the same time.
"What's Dragonborn?" I grunt hopefully, "Does it mean I get to fight more dragons?"
Just then, a loud noise rattles the entire countryside, saying "Doh-Vah-Kiin," with a similar bang to my own shout.
"The Graybeards! They call you, the Dragonborn!" The leader says excitedly, "Please, allow us to escort you to the Throat of the World to meet them."
I shove him aside. I can find my way myself. And with that, I left to seek my destiny as this Dragonborn. Perhaps, this was what Mehrunes Dagon had in mind...
AND THE REST IS HISTORY...
Thrall Outline:
* After years of confusion and hazy memories
* Orc Grognut finds a ring of magic resistance
* Realises he's been under a spell for 3 years, a thrall of a necromancer
* Lies in wait and kills the necromancer
* Leaves their cave dwelling to seek Orcish Fort Fargut
* Does battle with beasts, and fights a dragon.
* Hears the call of the greybeards