Tales of Tamriel
Book One The Barbarian
(Adult Version)
Name: Brenda Dragniel
(Non Dragonborn Character)
Age: 27
Height: 6'7''
Eye Color: Green
Hair Color: Peach Blond
Skin Color: Dark Tan
Breast Size: DD42
Class: Barbarian
Sexual Preference: Bisexual
Stat Focus: Two Handed, Heavy Armor, Blocking, Speech (For… reasons lol)
Base Stat Focus: High HP, small Stamina Boost
Skilled in two handed Norse swordsmanship, & the balance of heavy skimpy armor. Keeping the enemies distracted opening up opportunities to strike.
Chapter 1
I was crossing the boarder to the land of Skyrim. It's deep within the woods not to far from Helgen. My village is positioned just beyond a a cave passage leading under a mountain that otherwise would take a fortnight to go around.
This passage was built by my people & the Dwemer long ago for easy trade rout.
For the most part my people keep to themselves, but we still trade with the humble people of Helgen & Riverwood. Beyond that, we are disconnected from the outside world.
My father Dagr Dragniel son of Gudleifr Draniel, was asked by the Stormcloaks leader once if he would help in their efforts to fight off the Imperials from their homeland. Upon which he replied,
"I am not some lowly warrior for higher. Nor can my people be swayed to your cause through cheap gestures."
I think my father pissed off Ulfric Stormcloak, because he stormed out of there.
Dagr informed me why he declined. "Although he fought High King Torygg with the old traditions of the Norse people, he did it in such a way that the fight was not actually a fair fight."
My father the ever proud & just warrior truly believes in a challenging fight. His stubbornness in the past has matched that of the Jarl's of Falkreath, & Whiterun.
His stature winning his people over through sheer will.
He strokes his long orange beard contemplating Ulfrics retreat. His eyes settling from the flame that ignited upon the very thought of a worthy fight with Jarl Ulfric.
Although Brenda can't see for sure, she knows her father well. He was a little bit disappointed by Jarl Ulfric's lack of action.
Brenda stood to her father's left just behind his halls throne… Which is a bit more like a high chair than an actual throne.
Despite Dagr being the village leader, he does not rule like the Jarl's of Tamriel. Rather he listens to the people's needs & requirements, & sends people to assist them. There have been times when his subjects were to busy with the incoming crops or other projects, that he could be seen pulling a tiller. His massive muscles working over time because these people don't have a mule, or horse.
My people are not particularly wealthy. What we own in wealth are products of our own two hands. Food, clothing, weapons, animals, timber, the likes of which we maintain well enough.
Even my father only has a couple hundred septims which he utilizes in trade with other towns mainly.
My father is a very somber man. Rarely showing expression except excitement when a fight might break out. He is very tall reaching 6'8'' towering above most in our village. He has dark skin, & orange hair & beard. Little strands of silver creeping from the depths of his temple.
Despite his age his muscle tone is exceedingly fit. Although his gut has started to show his age.
Our name carries a lot of weight. Our ancestors having done great deeds beyond belief. Some having fought against dragons even. Proof of this feat is the dragon skull mounted to the back wall.
My father by himself defeated 5 frost trolls that came down the mountainside. Killing four of them & injuring the fifth.
Dagr turns to inform me, "I have a task for you my girl. If you would, can you take these coins with you & pick up some supplies from the Riverwood trader? Also take a party with you & make sure he leaves our boarders. I don't want any trouble from him."
My vibrant green eyes light up with excitement as I stride across my father's hall to the main entrance. My intimidating height towering over a couple men walking in with complaints.
They stare at me as I pass. My natural beauty incomparable in our village. I have very tan skin, medium length, mildly curly peach blond hair billowing through the air.
For my 25th birthday I got my full left hand side tattooed with a black dragon. To represent my families name that came from a dragon of olden days.
My clothes for the day was my every day fur cover. Straps criss-cross tying the front & back together like a one piece. The back arches to show a bit of my back showing off my muscular stature.
I have no shoes at this time… I am very much a wild child. I prefer to not hinder my movement much under any situation. My demeanor is pretty lax for the most part. I live a life of a hunter, & a warrior. Much like my fore father's. I can be quite hot headed, & just as stubborn as my father at times. Plus being a tom boy, I tend to not fit the usual feminine whiles most look to in the female figure. Something my father never had a problem with. He always wanted a son…
I have been informed by my old childhood friend, Sleipnir son of Vilhjalmr that even sparring, I am quite frightful to behold. I tend to make friends with men more than I can with women.
Outside I grab my father's most trusted man Vilkhan's shoulder & inform him, "Get ready to head out immediately. Father wants us to ensure Jarl Ulfric leaves peacefully."
My silky smooth voice breaks the sweltering warm August afternoon air.
Sleipnir approaches me with elation, "Hey; are you done with your meeting? I found this one girl I think you'd love…"
Sleipnir is one of those gallant ladies man, who at times can be very full of himself. But he has many redeeming features. His ability to work hard for instance… when he puts his mind to it.
Forgetting what she is supposed to be doing she turns to meet him. He has auburn brown hair that darkens as you peer further down. With him only wearing a loin clothe & a pair of soft shoes.
Despite her interest in his chiseled abs, she brings her self control forth with a snap.
"There's always time for fun & games later." She tells herself internally.
She frowns at him, "Sorry Sleip, I have fatherly duties today. Maybe later?"
He frowns back reproachfully, "Your going to miss out on all the fun Bren."
But all the same he waves goodbye as he turns away for his usual "social time".
As Brenda sets out with Vilkhan following closely behind. They head to the cave entrance leading to the outside world leading to the boarders of Cyrodiil & Skyrim.
The cave entrance is hidden on this side by a small bundle of trees & brush which they purposely keep there.
Brenda looks back at her people's village. A peace resides over Fela Horgr (Hidden Sanctuary) that just says "home".
Although she has felt that itch for adventure, it always seems easily satisfied by doing menial chores in the open world for her father. A call that now comes from the deep depths of the cold cave. An eerie sound coming from the darkness.
Excitement fills her veins as her heart quickens. She knows the sound is just the wind… but the sound of mystery still sends chills up her spine.
Vilkhan leads the way into the cave… the entrance of which is much bigger than it seems at first.
Inside a vast canopy of carved rock with massive carved beams set in large V's across the high ceiling. The craftsmanship here is astounding. Her predecessors really knew how to make a grand entrance.
The rock face is smooth with carvings, & etchings of epic fights, & great tales of old. One such is about the great black dragon. "The world ender" they called it.
Many of the etchings are about a clan of warriors dedicated to fighting dragons. Although she does not recall their name. Something like sword, or blade… Ether way it makes no sense to her.
As they tread deeper into the mountain, they light torches along the way. Holding onto a torch Vilkhan lights the path ahead. While the lit torches bring light from behind.
They stick pretty close to the North facing wall so as to not get lost in this chasm. Despite the factor that this place is mainly used as a passage way through the mountains, it also has vast hallways with infinite passages that lead deep with the bowels of the mountain. Some claim that it even reaches the heart of the mountain, where fire dances on the ground like water.
Most though, never tread beyond the North facing wall. The torches get maintained by a couple of hunters who pass through regularly. Usually with a small haul of game on pull wagons.
The sound of their footsteps echo off the wall & into the doorways of darkened hallways. The darkness pressing hard on her eyes as she tries to peer down one particular hallway she remembers going down as a child. It leads to a vast room meant for grand feasts & parties.
Any sign of life beyond the wanderings of village children & her people passing through, are now completely devoid of life.
While they tread noisily on, the flicker of flames dance the shadows about her eerily. Her eyes are sensitive to movement which sets her nerves on edge.
Vilkhan breaks the silence pressing hard on their ears, "I have been thinking of your mother these last few nights… I remember when her songs filled the halls of your father's hold."
Vilkan is like an uncle to her. He is the chiefs head warrior & strategist. His age perceives him. He has seen countless battles, & done grandiose things in his time. He is Dagr's most trusted warrior & brother in arms.
Heck he was there when Brenda was born. He's as good as any Uncle she could have ever asked for.
Brenda replies calmly, "It's hard to think she's been gone for five long years. I still wonder what happened to her."
Five years ago, her mother rightly named Hjordis (sword goddess) daughter of Hindi vanished without a trace. It has been claimed by many that she was taken by trolls, or maybe the mountain ate her.
Either way, nobody truly knows where she's at now. Maybe she just left one day. Her father never speaks of it. But Brenda knows he loved her beyond measure. So she has no suspicion of her father…
Maybe the mountain did eat her though. Many people who venture off the walked path just up & vanish without a trace. Who knows what actually lays in wait in these old halls.
Maybe one day she'll just appear again…
The exit appears in the distance. It's far away still, but they can now see light at the end of the tunnel.
She wont miss this cavern when she gets out. Her eyes are not adept to the harsh darkness here. The adventure was fun an all. But she prefers well lit places instead.
As they creep closer to the light her eyes sting from the direct light shining through the big gap that is the doorway. She can see the trees, & bushels of lavender just a few feet from her. From this side you can see clearly outside. But…
They walk through a veil that ripples with rainbow like effect. Kind of like stepping into a pond around their bodies.
On the other side she looks back & all she sees is rock face. Like as if the mountain was there the whole time. Only a few know about this place. Mainly leaders, & regulars. Anyone else would think it's just a mountain face.
Not far from them they can hear a commotion off to the North down the road leading to Helgen. All around them they are surrounded by forestry covered mountains. A small stream flows freely down the mountainside.
Morning glories are just now starting to fold away for the day. Must be late afternoon or so. She looks up, & can only barely make out blue of the sky through all the canopy of branches from the trees being so close together.
The commotion is not to far ahead. It sounds like combat as metal hits metal. They walk fourth listening intently. Brenda draws her sword, the blade scrapes the half scabbard on her back.
The sword in question is etched with old runes of her people's language. This sword her heirloom of her forefather's epic fights. Each tale carved right into the metal.
This blade is way different than any other she has ever held though. It weighs slightly lighter than most, & has a sheen that never fades. The blade named the "Elder Blade" has allegedly claimed the magic of a dragon, & slain countless creatures before her time.
Of all the swords she has owned, this one requires very little maintenance at all. She has only had to oil it from time to time between battles to clean it. It's only ever been sharpened twice in it's life. Yet not one nick or flaw lays upon the blade… miraculously.
Her father always claimed it to be a magical sword. But nobody has been able to confirm it for sure. Only a couple know any form of magic in her village. That's just knowing it exists. Not actually practicing it though.
As they encroach closer to the ensuing battle they see Jarl Ulfric shout & blast this Imperial guard into the mountainside. Where he lay motionless.
Reinforcements quickly come from the toll gate to the South. Vilkhan & Brenda are completely overlooked by the guards passing by. The brush hiding them well from plain sight.
As the fight ensues a Stormcloak dies to two Imperials blades sinking into his chest.
There are about 12 guards now, against 3 Stormcloaks, & two unfortunate people seemingly caught into the fray. Both of which are currently on the back of a wagon.
A Stormcloak close to Ulfric takes an arrow to the chest. He staggers to the ground, then tries to fight to his feet instead of giving up. He yells his battle cry as he takes another arrow to the chest. Then an axe to the face.
Just then, Ulfric commands his last two comrades to give up. This seems out of character for him… But maybe he has a plan?…
The Imperial commander bomb rushes Ulfric & ties him up tightly. Then puts a muzzle over his face to prevent him from speaking.
In a matter of moments Ulfric along with his comrades are loaded up into the wagon headed to Helgen.
Vilkhan, & Brenda stay hidden for quite some time before making a move. When they finally come out from their hiding place they tread along the road to inspect the man still leaned up against the hills side.
"He's not breathing…" Vilkhan informs.
Brenda looks about for a while, & she feels an air all about the trees. The wind seems to be inconsistent. Changing swiftly from one direction to the next.
A vast dark shadow casts over the clearing on the road as an unfamiliar roar cuts through the violent air.
Brenda, "What is that?"
She looks at Vilkhan wide eyed, unbelieving of what she saw. "Was that… a dragon?"
Another roar comes from Helgen as the sky becomes violent above. The clouds circling about like vultures to a corpse. Nothing about this is normal.
As they approach Helgen they see the entire town on fire. People screaming & crying clearly heard until a massive roar bursts from the flames.
A massive black winged creature lunges through the air as the beast spirals until it's wings spreads wide. It roars one last time before flying North towards Whiterun.
Vilkhan apprehensive says with bated breath, "Is that a dragon?"
Excitement rushes over Brenda as a old sense fills her mind. Fear; but it is quickly replaced with excitement. A trait she got from her father.
She rushes to Helgen to see what the damage is. Sort of sizing up this new beast.
In his stunned state Vilkan calls out after Brenda to which she retorts, "Keep up!"
When they get through the broken down gate of Helgen, they bare witness to the destructive power of the dragon.
Scorched bodies strewn about. What looks like flaming boulders planted firmly into the small craters. The horrid smell of burning bodies fills the air about them. Helgen's buildings on fire & massive holes broken through the walls of the stone towers. Some of the buildings completely collapsed in on themselves. If there was anyone left alive, they long fled from this place.
Side tracked in awe of the pure destructive power of this black dragon Brenda says, "We should report this to father. He will want to know about this."
Leading the way back slowly trying to cleanse the smell of burning corpses from her nostrils. She reaches down & plucks a lavender plant in full bloom & tucks it under her brazier strap to assist with the smell now seeped into her skin & armor.