"Sure I'll let you leave the Stronghold to go study magic...if you can best me in a brawl." Chief Burguk smirked. He viewed Shakdan as weak. Shakdan had been the youngest born of the wisewoman Murbul. But instead of taking after his brother the chief like most of the other males of his tribe, he took after his mother. He enjoyed learning about the herbs and potions she made and was fascinated with her gifts of magic. When he hit puberty it became obvious his skill was with magic so he studied to become a shaman like his mother. In orc tribes, shamans were almost exclusively female. He was outcast for his lack of interest in swordsplay and brawling.
Shakdan glared back at his older brother. His skin was dark and his eyes an unusal bright blue with purple around the edges. Blue and purple warpaint in magical symbols ran down his nose and spiked his cheeks. His black hair was up in a high warrior braid and a double row of small horns jutted from his brow and forehead. He was dressed in shamanistic robes like his mother; revealing his body that glowed blue in shamanistic patterns.
"For Malacath's sake let the young pup leave!" Ghorbash their other brother stated.
"You left to join the Imperial army to fight, a noble cause. He wants to leave to study magic!" Burguk argued.
"I'll fight you." Shakdan simply stated. Just because he didnt prefer to fight physically, didnt mean he didnt know how. The fight was long and brutal. Burguk got in several good blows but Shakdan finally wore him down and won.
"Fine. You're free to go. Just dont bring back any of that fancy magic when you come crawling back. We do just fine with mother's abilities." Burguk sighed in resignation.
Shakdan was free! Free to go where he wished, do what he wished with no one harassing him for being 'different'. He was free to cast fireball after fireball, but he wanted to learn to control ice and lightning as well. Not even his mother could do that! He checked his map and found Markarth the closest city. He would head there and then travel on to the College of Winterhold.
He was quite taken aback on the road to Markarth when he encountered 3 drunken humans. They hailed him and offered him Honningbrew mead, a sweet drink the like's he'd never tasted before, and slapped him heartily on the back as he tried it. He hadn't expected their comradere behavior, but he'd lived a sheltered life in the stronghold and had always been told most races didnt like orcs.
The town of Winterhold was quiet and cold, simple as that. The moons rose high in the night sky covered by a sheer light aqua aurora borealis dappled with thousands of glittering stars. He inhaled the bitter cold wind and shifted his bear hood higher.
He met his first Orc of the outside world at the College surprisingly enough. He was the only other one but he passed Urag gro-Shub just as he was about to go in for his first magic lessons. Urag was in charge of the Arcaneum, one of the largest libraries in Skyrim. Shakdan was glad to help collect books for him and practice his new magic along the dangerous missions.
He met Borgakh the Steel Hearted at Mor Khazgur, one of the neighboring orc strongholds in Skyrim is mother had told him to visit. He'd just built himself a shaman's hut in the wetlands not far from Solitude and was in the market for some backup muscle. Borgakh was awaiting marriage whenever the local chieftan decided it, and felt chained inside the stronghold walls. Shakdan knew the feeling so offered to pay her dowry in gold, tempting her to tag along until the chieftan decided who she should marry. Including her dowry he also outfitted her with Warchief armor and Warchief's Might, an enormous spear he'd crafted himself. She was more suited to heavy armor anyway whereas his shaman robes were light armor.
He was the strangest orc she'd ever met. Borgakh was secretly glad to be away from the stronghold before becoming a cooped up wife. He was quiet for an orc but bold to look at. His striking eyes and glowing tattoos got him attention from many people. He seemed not to care but ignored everyone, intent on his own business yet never missing what was going on around him.
And she'd never seen an orc cast lightning and ice with such deadly accuracy before. She watched in awe as he shot the dragon out of the sky with Destruction as some magical transfer happened from the dragon to him. The local nords kept going on about Dragonborn and encouraging him to Shout.
He'd never felt a rush before like after he'd killed the dragon. It wasn't just the success of a foe well slain or the relief of survival. This was something different. The guards rushed up to him and called him Dragonborn, a term he'd never heard before. They instructed him on it and told him to try and Shout. He felt a welling up of power, different then when he cast magic and shouted 'FUS' as the guards all fell back. Now that was power! Immediatly he wanted more...