Becoming a Legend


'I'll ask Tier to have dinner with me tomorrow night. If she says no, I'll back off a while longer. I'll keep trying for her hand; even 'til Sovngarde takes me.'


Chapter 4 RE – Dovahkiin fah hin kogaan mu draal!


High above the pool-marked Rift, a white dragon circles the Bonestrewn Crest…

Krinvahzii…

Courageous Sky Spirit…

Yet another name for me to get used to. The sheer power I felt coursing through me; deep within me I could feel my very soul cry out with joy as I freewheeled through the clouds. Being a dragon wasn't half bad…

My wings stilled, leveling out as I descended from the clouds, keeping an eye out for any dragon nesting on the hilltop. I saw none for miles so I glided down and landed heavily before the Dragon Wall. Gazing upon the wall, I found that I could read the strange slashes.

"Pah WERID SONaan LUNERIO

WEN YUVON LOVaaS MeyZ

FO HET KO VULON"

"All praise Bard Lunerio

Whose golden music became

Frost here in night"

The word 'Fo – Frost' glowed brightly and I gained an…understanding of it. I knew instinctively how to channel the word into my thu'um, creating a shout of icy winds. I knew that the shout was inherently different than my own natural fire breath, an ability that was not a true Shout, merely an instinctual weapon. My fire was more than enough against any joor, but against another dovah? It was comparable to an iron dagger against Daedric sword at best.

Yet, something wasn't right. I knew that while I learned Frost Breath, it was still incomplete. It wasn't at full power.

Sighing, or rather growling in frustration, I took to the skies once more; I racked my brain for clues on the locations of other Walls. Seeing as I had only received some inconsistent images of the Walls from whatever sent me here, I had very little success.

I soared just above the clouds towards the Throat of the World, highest mountain in all of Tamriel. Up on its peak I could see a half-buried Wall along with a monastery of some sort a few dragon-lengths below. Suddenly a white dragon like me, but ancient from the look of his faded scales and torn wings, landed atop the mountain and gazed right at me. I almost wheeled away when I heard him shout out to me, his voice laced with a powerful thu'um.

"Come young one; let us speak as two dov. It has been long since I have felt the flames of another."

Against my better judgment I flew towards the old one and landed heavily on the snowy mountaintop. I looked up to him as he perched on the Wall. I had yet to speak to him when the Wall lit up like at the Bonestrewn Crest.

A stream of shadows and light, greater than before, was absorbed into me and I now somehow knew a new full Shout:

Yol-Toor-Shul

Fire-Inferno-Sun

*From this point on, all dialogue between myself and Paarthurnax is to be considered entirely in the Dragon Language*

I had barely sorted out my new Shout when the white dragon loosed a weak torrent of flames at my face, barely strong enough to melt the snow freshly fallen around me. Shaking off the mild embers I retaliated with a flame just as strong (or weak) at his scaly mug.

"Why is your Voice so weak, old one? That barely singed the snow beneath me."

It merely chuckled, a deep mountain shaking sound. I had the feeling that I was missing something here…

"Had I wished to hurt you youngling, I would have loosed flames hot enough to melt the scales from your bones and scorch the very earth below you. Nay, I merely greeted you as a fellow dragon. Now that our, as the mortals say, pleasantries are done with, let us speak of the return of all dragons to this land."

And with that, we spoke at great length. We spoke of the many centuries passed. The Numidium, the Warp in the West, the death of the Three Mortal 'Gods', the eruption of Red Mountain and finally the coming of Alduin and the Last Dragonborn.

Days passed yet I barely noticed the traveling of the sun and the moons. The land had become consumed by war yet I took little note of it. It was the night of the last day of Rain's Hand that Paarthurnax dismissed me from that mountain, sending me off to find my own path. Or as he said it:

"I grow weary and need my rest. Fly to the west and search out your mortal descendent and the Dragonborn. Through them you shall find your answers. Be wary of Alduin's vengeance; his allies great in number while we are few in strength.

"And test the might of your Thu'um. It is only through practice and meditation that your Voice may grow beyond what it is now. "

So here I am flying above what I believe is Rorikstead in the darkness of the new moon. Once again I am filled with the ecstasy that is flight. I really enjoy it. I only mildly wished that I had returned as a human; I sorta missed swinging a sword around in the midst of battle.

Now I could enjoy my time roasting the poor bastards from the sky…

That's not healthy thinking is it? *shrug mentally* It's healthy enough for a dragon I suppose…


In the Druadach Mountains, Ragnar's 'Elites' Camp

The scum of Ulfric's forces had slowly been culled, unbeknownst to the bastards. It had taken much planning on Galmar's part and the cooperation of his captains, but they had accomplished it. Only Ragnar and his men remained of those set to be…sacrificed.

Up in the mountains northeast of Dragon Bridge, Ragnar and his men rested in a small camp underneath a rocky overhang.

"Scout says that the troops are mobilizing. Looks like the Dragonborn's attacking at first light."

Ragnar grunted in acknowledgement at his second's report. The heavily scarred Enrick was a steadfast follower, a veteran of the Great War.

"Be ready then. Have the men take up positions along the ridge, hauling boulders with them. Once the Dragonborn has the Legion distracted, we'll drop a mountain on the bastards."

As his second left the campsite, Ragnar turned once more to stare into the dying flames. By noon tomorrow, he'd once again be a hero and would have that wench lying at his feet.


Dragon Bridge, Legion Encampment

The sun just began to peek over the horizon when the sleepy sentries were mercilessly riddled with dozens of arrows. The Dragonborn led a small contingent of men slowly across the bridge; great makeshift wooden shields protecting them from the Legion's arrows. Spell fire struck the advancing Stormcloaks, but to the Legion's surprise, their spells just rolled off the wooden barriers.

A faint glimmer shined from the advancing wall, signaling that the shields had been enchanted with a ward of some sort. A crude invention that wouldn't last, but it was holding.

Behind the Legion walls, Hadvar was gathering the men just behind the inn. He pulled half the archers and mages off the defensive wall and positioned them by the inn and the mill. Hadvar readied himself beside the fifteen legionnaires as he waited for the Stormcloaks to breach the gate.

*thud*

*thud*

"Fus…Ro!"

The gate was smashed open by a wave of blue energy, flinging the shards towards the first squads' positions. The men positioned just by the gate were bodily flung to the sides; the impact knocking them unconscious. The dust settled and Hadvar spotted the Dragonborn herself leading the charge.

"Hold steady men; wait for it…"

The charging Stormcloaks spread.

"Wait…"

They attacked the soldiers ferociously, the Dragonborn's dragonbone sword cleaving through shields and armor alike. Behind the northern houses the other squads tensed with the archers hidden on the rooftops.


Stormcloak View

Tier cleaved another legionnaire in two, wary of any surprises. It had been too easy to cross the bridge and her men had run into very little resistance within the town. As the last one fell, the Stormcloaks slowly spread out towards the town center. Tier had just turned the corner of the inn when she was tackled to the ground and a cry of "ATTACK!" sounded.

Out from behind the buildings, dozens of soldiers charged and took her men by surprise. Archers appeared on the roofs, bows taut and ready. Arrows rained on her men as they were pushed back towards the bridge.

Grappling with the man who tackled her, she managed to kick him away; stunning him long enough for her to fling a Firebolt into the northern sky. A warcry sounded and Ragnar's men poured from over the ridge, boulders leading the way. Tier joined her men at the gate and kept the Imperials off them long enough for Ragnar's force to slam into the unprepared Legion's backs.

She could hear Ragnar's bloodthirsty cries as his men cleaved into the Legion. She snorted at the man's reckless tactics. She had her men slowly backstep to their encampment, subtly motioning the survivors to retreat. It wasn't until she heard the war horn that she ordered the full retreat.

Her part was done; now for Ragnar to follow the plan and fight his way right to Sovngarde.


Legion View

The Legion was caught in the middle of a pincer strike: the Dragonborn's men to the east, Ragnar's to the west. Hadvar was hard-pressed to counter the attack when a war horn sounded from the northern gate. Capt. Arturia charged in, leading a dozen Legion heavy troopers. The new force slammed into Ragnar's men, the Stormcloaks standing little chance against the heavily armored legionnaires.

He had been almost too preoccupied with his opponent to notice the now retreating Dragonborn and men. Thinking quickly, Hadvar adapted to their lucky break.

"Archers; focus your fire on the western force! Mages; Rune spells to guard the bridge!"

The men were quick to follow. It was mere moments later that the last of the Stormcloaks within Dragon Bridge were either captured or killed that things quieted. Going amongst the dead, Hadvar spotted Arturia holding one particular at sword point despite him being bound tightly. Getting a better look at the captive, Hadvar realized who it was.

"Fort Commander Ragnar the Bloody… Who'd have thought that we'd catch you in a skirmish like this? I half expected you to come charging across that bridge with an army at your back. Looks like I was wrong…"

Ragnar just snarled at Arturia, spittle landing on her scratched breastplate. She just smirked at their new captive and turned to Hadvar.

"Cart this man to Solitude Hadvar; get him under lock and key in Castle Dour as soon as you can."

"Aye Captain."

Hadvar grabbed Ragnar and marched onto a cart. With five others, he set off to Solitude. Arturia had some work to do.


High above Dragon Bridge…

Gliding slowly in a downward spiral, I watched as the Legion warded off the Stormcloak attack. I was bemused by the fact that the current Legionnaire armor was pitifully weak compared to the armor of the Third Era. Studded leather and chainmail could not compare to good solid steel.

Using the wonderfully powerful eyesight granted by my draconic form, I could pick out the faces of every man and mer within the town-turned-fort. Two faces stood out in particular. One was a Nordic man in heavy legion steel escorting a prisoner to the city north of here, Solitude I believe. I vaguely remembered him from the gameplay videos of Skyrim I saw on TV.

The other was a woman with blazing red hair, so much like Renault's fiery locks. She too wore the heavy legion steel but wielded a sword unlike the ones used by others nowadays. It was so familiar…

Regardless, I decided it was time to cause a little havoc for the Legion and Stormcloaks. I swooped down quickly, the bleak skies covering my descent. The watchmen of both sides spotted me just as I loosed a torrent of flame on the Stormcloak fort walls.

"Yol…Toor…Shuuuuul!"

"Dragon!"

As I scorched the palisades and encampments, I couldn't help but hear the words of a song filtering up from both forts.

"Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zin los vahrin, wah dien vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal!

Ahrk fin norok paal graan fod nust hon zindro zaan.

Dovahkiin fah hin kogaan mu draal!"


For those wondering what the words above mean, here they are:

"Dragonborn, Dragonborn, by his honor is sworn, To keep evil forever at bay!

And the fiercest of foes rout when they hear triumph's shout.

Dragonborn, for your blessing we pray!"