Standard disclaimer, I do not own rights to skyrim or the elder scrolls series, any locations, names, groups ect belong to their respective copyright holders . so on and so forth.
"I once met the dragonborn you know, he killed his first dragon right here in whiterun hold. A true nord, strong, fierce, loyal, brave, skilled with his axe, a mighty warrior."
"Get on with the tale, we want to hear how he travelled to Sovngarde and beat Alduin!" the croud yelled
"I was setting the scene you ungrateful louts." muttered the under-appreciated bard.
"Oh aye the dragonborn had large rippling muscles that he showed off never wearing a shirt, and the one night he came in here got drunk and hammered Mikael here against the tables, the walls, the bar and in all the beds!" One boisterous nord shouted with a drunken grin. his comment was met with laughter and catcalls and whistles.
Mikaels reply to thus was elegant in its simplicity. He made a rude gesture to the troublemaker and carried on with his tale.
"O' course noone knew about the dragons returning yet or about the dragonborn but when a dragon attacked the hold Jarl Balgruuf sent a complement of guards and our hero to slay the mighty beast the battle was long and fierce"
"Thats what she said!" several men chorused from a corner to a round of laughter.
Mikael took a long swig of his ale ordered another and continued recounting the epic fight.
"They found the watchtower burning, but with no guards in sight, when suddenly the sole surviving guard yelled at them to hide or find safety and the dragon swooped from the sky, it incinerated most of the guards in a torrent of fire gushing forth from its fanged maw, the rest of the guards shambled inside desperate to hide from the flames, not so the dragon born he stood tall axe in one hand, shield in another, he cursed and raged against the dragon in the sky whilst the terrified guards were shamed into shooting their bows at the great beast, the dragon wheeled about in the sky, occasionally blasting fire at the dragonborn, whilst the archers frantically shot at the dragon, with most missing and many of those that hit simply bouncing of the scales or not drawing forth blood.
Eventually the wrym swooped down meaning to grab the young adventurer and then drop him from the clouds, but the dragonborn didn't waver he stood determined and the the beast got close enough he flung the axe at the dragon where it tore at its wing and brought it crashing down to the earth. the dragonborn set about it with a sword a guard tossed to him, slashing and stabbing, cracking scales and cutting tough leathery skin here and there, the dragon once again breathed fire at him, he raised his shield, his sword glowed red hot and he was forced to drop it by the intense heat, the searing flame drove him to his knees, Irileth charged from the tower and hacked at the dragons back legs cutting tendones and causing it to scream to the heavens and lash its tail at her whilst it stumbled around to bite her.
Irileth slashed her sword at its face as it tried to bite her, she kept it at bay a few seconds and wounded it lightly with blood running into one eye, then it suddenlt whipped its long neck out and tore her shield away leaving long deep cuts into her arm, dizzy she fell to her knees and awaited the inferno that would finish her, staring her death in the face valiantly.
Today was not the day of her death though, like a true nord the dragonborn overcame adversity and protected his comrades, he stumbled to his feet and yanked his axe from the dragons wing, he sent mighty blows into its wing and broke the bone, then he climbled onto its back and started hacking at its neck, holding his axe with both hands he screamed his frustration and finally cleaved the monsters head from its neck.
Standing in triumph, basking in the glory our hero came to the realisation that he had done what no hero had for many an age, he had defeated a dragon! Suddenly its body withered away and the dragonborn was wreathed in light, when it faded a new power exploded from him in the form of a shout, FUS! and thats when the story really begins..."
"Eh, I thought you started the story half an hour ago"
"I was speaking figuratively"
"Well speak plainer then"
"How about you dont speak and don't interrupt you fool"
"Carry on with the story then"
The tavern erupted with requests for various sections of the great saga, "Tell us how he became harbinger, Tell us about the wenches e screwed! tell us how he became ruler of the college" at this last comment another argument erupted.
"He weren't never in the college, he didn't never learn no magic."
"Whats a shout if not magic then?"
"That don't count"
"Got him into the college didn't it"
"Yeah but its not proper magic, he never learnt any proper spells!"
"Right so using magic shouts far more powerful than any other spells aren't proper magic"
"He didn't learn how to shout in the college, they couldn't teach him."
"He got in and he became archmage though, I dunnae care wha' ya say"
Mikael finally intervened before the argument spiralled down into a brawl
"Its true that the shouts aren't true magic, but it did get him into the college and he did become the archmage"
"How"
"Well he found a magic staff that stole magicians magic so they couldn't fight back, then he stabbed some thalmor who was high ranked in the college after the thalmor had killed the archmage, because their most powerful mages were gone and the dragonborn could shout any of the rest easily and stop them from magicking him they made him leader, apparently there was another high ranked mage who really run the place and now they just pay the dragonborn from the money they earn."
"Lazy mages, how do those pathetic milk drinkers earn any money its not like they sell themselves for good honest fighting" a huge grey haired nord grumbled.
"They enchant weapons and jewl'ry and stuff"
"Pah, only pathetic weaklings use magic"
"S'not using magic though"
"Oh really, well when you smith a sword that can explode a man you let me know"
"It's not that different from someone with a sharp orcish sword killing someone who only has a rusty iron sword"
"Milk drinker!"
"Brute!"
Mikael sighed and sauntered towards the bar to get another drink before the brawls ended up cracking the barrels of mead open, a friendly smiling face greeted him with an ale in hand and mikael sat with the stranger who he had seen before but couldn't remember his name, and shared drinks and stories, Mikael payed close attention to several particularly the one involving the chapel of Dibella.
A/N alrighty then this is a start to hopefully a long series of tales of the dragonborn, I'm trying to highlight how the civil war has divided nords and the other assorted residents of skyrim and these stories will generably be able to be set either during or many years after the civil war questline, if its set after the civil war questline then I'm trying to keep it ambigous in most cases which side won, and if in a drabble i do say one side has won in the next drabble the opposite might be true.
so um yeah... basically just drabbles, some will be connected others wont be, i might try making my own "proper" story but i would have to make my own questline not just retell the main quests, and honestly i don't believe I'm a good enough writer to do that. But stay tuned kiddies, we shall see whatever we shall see...