A/N: So this is my first time posting a story. After playing Skyrim for so long, this story just started developing in my head and I had to write it down.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim ... actually it's quite the opposite; Skyrim owns me.
The Dovahkiin; Dragonborn. That's what the people call me… well I suppose they used to, though I haven't been addressed as such for so long. It seems like a lifetime ago.
I had no home, no family, for as long as I can remember. I had always lived in the woods, in the great forests of Skyrim. As a child, I nearly starved to death. I was fortunate that a couple of kindly hunters took pity on me. They gave me food and water, nursed me back to health. And then they taught me how to hunt, how to survive. Showed me the ways of my people, the Bosmer. When they had no more to teach me, we went our separate ways. I seldom entered cities, only when I was in dire need of shelter or supplies.
That's how I lived for many years. Until one day, I had taken chase of a majestic elk deep into the forest. I knew I must have been nearing the border between Skyrim and Morrowind, but it would not have been the first time. But that day, luck was not on my side. For on that day, the Imperial Legion had devised a trap in order to capture the rebel, Ulfric Stormcloak. And I had run right into the thick of it all. They took me prisoner and I did not resist, for I knew it was futile to argue. I had always thought that the wilds would claim me, and wild indeed were the hearts of men. Upon reaching Helgen, we stopped. So this would be my final resting place, my soul trapped in the confines of these stone walls. It was only now that a Nord Legionnaire took notice that I was not a Stormcloak rebel and asked for my name.
"Icsarus.". The name had been engraved on a pendant, one that I had worn my entire life. One that I can only assume was given to me by my parents, before I had been abandoned. My only tie to my past, though that meant nothing to me now. The Nord was apologetic, knowing that my fate was sealed. I stood and watched as a Stormcloak stepped forward, was pushed to the ground, his body relieved of his head. Then I was next. Blood rushed to my head, I could hear nothing, feel nothing, I was paralyzed. "Next prisoner!", my daze was broken. Stepping forward, I was forced to my knees, my head pushed against the cold stone. I turned my eyes towards my executioner, so I could see the man who would take my life from me. But as I looked up, I saw it; a dragon. Its scales as black as night and a voice which rumbled straight to the core of my being. And then the fire, exhaled so effortlessly from its mouth, I couldn't see straight.
The execution was off, but my life was still forfeit. That is, until one of the Stormcloaks called to me, telling me to take cover. We ran into a tower, "We're trapped" I thought to myself. I ran up the stairs, though I'll never know what drove me to do so. Halfway up, the walls were blasted in, and the dragon stuck its grotesque head inside for a peek. I took cover as best I could, avoiding the flames that came. Once I deemed it safe to move again, I saw there was no point in going up higher. With nowhere to go, I looked out the hole in the wall. And then I made the leap, out the tower and into what I assume was once a house. Running out, I saw the legionnaires with their bows out, trying to reign in the beast, but to no avail. The Nord saw me, and told me to follow him. His name was Hadvar. Told me to stick close to him in order to survive, and so I did. We ran across the Stormcloak who had taken me to cover earlier, Ralof, Hadvar had called him. Both Ralof and Hadvar told me to follow them as they ran into separate entrances. Do I follow Ralof, whose cause had gotten me captured? Or do I follow Hadvar, whose legion was ready to kill an innocent man.
I knew little of the politics of this world, but what I did know was that the Stormcloaks had little love for anyone who wasn't a Nord. I followed my heart, and my heart told me to go with Hadvar. I entered the building and Hadvar cut my binds. I found some armor and a sword and we were off. We escaped the building, having run into a few Stormcloaks on the way. Even amidst this dragon attack, these men still fought among themselves. In the end, the Stormcloak soldiers perished and Hadvar and I escaped from Helgen. We ran to Riverwood for safety, and to rest.
Upon reaching Riverwood, I was exhausted. I found a place to rest for the night. When I woke in the morning, Hadvar's uncle asked me to send word to the Jarl of Whiterun, to warn him of the dragon attack. I wanted to refuse, to leave this all behind me and return to my simple life as a wanderer of the woods. But I knew I had to, for it was the honorable thing to do. I couldn't just run off, leaving these people defenseless against such a monstrous creature. I agreed, and set off right away. That's how my adventure began.
Perhaps Jarl Balgruff mistook me for some ambitious mercenary when I brought him word of the attack, for immediately after, he and his court wizard were requesting that I travel the world in search of some special artefact. I really had no choice but to do it. So off I went, to Bleakfalls Barrow, into unknown danger. Luckily, my years of hunting had given me the skills to survive the tomb; the silence required when tracking a deer and a good shot with a bow were all that kept me from perishing at the hands of the draugr. Before now, I had little experience with swords. I tended to avoid close encounters, preferring to keep a distance between myself and imminent danger. But in a moment of carelessness I became distracted by a thunderous noise, it sounded like chanting. The chanting drew me in, called to me. I walked towards it, the wall covered in engravings, the likes of which I had never seen before. And yet, when I looked upon the wall, I had a feeling that deep down, I understood. Upon realizing this, the air around me stilled; the chanting had ceased. Thud, thud, CRACK! I turned faster than I thought possible and before me stood a draugr deathlord.
Dropping my bow, I fumbled nervously for my sword. The draugr opened its mouth and I knew I had to get away. I ran, and hid behind the tomb as the draugr uttered three syllables "Fus ro dah". I was shaking, never had I felt such fear. I could hear its footsteps drawing near. My heart beat faster and harder, I could hear the blood pumping in my ears and I could feel my heart jumping into my throat. It was now or never. My hand once again went to my sword. Grasping the hilt, I pulled the sword out as I dashed away from the approaching draugr. Once I had put enough distance between us, I turned around and faced it, looking for a weak spot. The legs looked relatively unprotected, but that would do me little good. What I needed was a killing blow. My only choice would be the neck. It ran towards me, opening its mouth; it was ready to shout again. This time I was prepared… somewhat. I stood my ground, waiting, and upon hearing the first indication of the shout, I rolled out of harm's way and ran quickly towards the deathlord. The draugr was slow, luckily for me, and when it realized how fast I was coming towards it, it was too late. I descended upon it, my blade ready. I plunged the blade straight through its throat and watched as the light left the monster's eyes. I pulled my blade out, and for extra measure, I swung with all my strength and cut the head clean off.
It fell to its knees, and so did I. I braced myself with my sword, gasping for breath. It didn't take long for me to lose the contents of my stomach. I felt myself growing tired, teetering on the border of consciousness. I looked around me, "No" I thought to myself, "I can't, not here". To pass out here would mean certain death. Then something caught my eye; red. A red flask, "Please, oh Divines, please be a healing potion". I crawled pathetically towards it, snatching the flask and opening it. I brought the flask to my lips and downed the contents. Dropping the empty bottle, I could feel my strength returning to me, my mind clearing, and my breathing slowed. I picked my sword up, sheathed it, and ran to retrieve my trusted bow. The Dragonstone, I had nearly forgotten it. My sole reason for coming to this damned crypt. I found it in a chest by the tomb, luckily, and made my way out of the crypt as quickly as I could.
So how was that so far? Let me know what you think =)