Prologue three: The Nord
For disclaimers, refer to other chapters.
"Another round of mead for me and my mates!" The nord known as Grombarth shouted at the waitress of Candlehearth Hall, in Windhelm. He was a large man, standing at six foot three, very muscular, and around average for education of most. He and his 'mates' had just finished another trip of privateering in Cyrodiil, and around Black Marsh, Grombarth's recently most-loathed province. The bugs there are enough to drive a man insane.
It did not take long for the group of men to finish off the mead. The nords of Skyrim were known for their steel stomach, and everlasting thirst.
"Oi, Grombarth, when in Oblivion are we going to search around the land o' da cats, Elsweyr?"A rather large sailor, named Frogharn, yelled. Grombarth, in his drunken state, was too intoxicated to come up with a decent reply.
"We go on tomeerow," he slurred, the men cheering as he did so. On the last trip, the crew's captain had died at sea, of a monster none had seen before. It had the scales of a fish, but the body of a dragon, a creature of legend. Myths stated these creatures as 'Sea Serpents', but we will know them as water dragons. This loss, had made Grombarth become the new captain, and half the crew was content, while the others...not so much.
The night passed, and all the men awoke, with full bellies, aching heads, and high spirits. They worked their way down to the docks, finding some Argonian workers piling cargo on-board.
"Hurry up you stupid lizards! I don't know WHY the dark elf made me want to pay you more! You were making a fortune off of me already!" The owner of the docks, Torsten Cruel-sea, shouted, 'encouraging' his workers to work harder. He had some other workers, like nords and imperials, but both earned twice as many septims as the beast-men.
The crew boarded, and left the docks, and later, hold. They were heading down one of the borders of the province, hoping to stop and resupply at some town in Cyrodill, and continue on their voyage.
However, close to the border, in The Rift, they were attacked by a Water Dragon.
"In the name of Talos! Why must these beasts continue to torment us?" Grombarth cried, as his men readied themselves for combat, some wielding heavy two-handed weapons, some swords, and two wielding bows. Grombarth himself enjoyed the strength of a Warhammer, and believed it to accomadate well to his own strength.
The 'dragon' had deep blue scales, and many, many horns. It's eyes looked as though it had crawled out of Oblivion, burning dark red, with an almost unsatiable hunger in them. However, unlike all other types of dragons, this one had a large, bony shark-like fin on it, making it seem like...well, a shark.
It began the attack by slamming its head up against the bottum of the boat, knocking the men about, one unlucky enough to fall into the water, whom was the fat one, Froghorn. If it survived, the dragon would eat well that night.
The dragon then rose its nasty head out of the water, and roared at them, using its ancient language to launch steaming water at them, which would be far worse than fire.
Grombarth rushed to the side of the boat, and leaped off, grappling onto the side, thanks to one of the creatures many horns. It tried snapping at him, but failing, as it could not reach him. Unfortunately, this made him drop his Warhammer into the deep blue. It then tried to submerge him, diving below the surface, and drown him.
The Nord climbed to the top of dragon-fish and pulled out a small, steel dagger. Always good to have a back-up plan. He used up the last of his strength, and slammed the dagger into the dragon's eye, forcing his arm into the hole it created, the water turning red with blood.
Grombarth rose to the surface, his lungs nearly imploding from lack of oxygen, and saw his boat, not immensely far away.
Aboard the ship, the men cheered as they saw their new captain emerge victorious from the depths. The quartermaster took the wheel, and steered the ship towards him, and got him out of the water.
"Sir, how in Oblivion did you kill that beast?" the quartermaster asked, dumbfounded, but fascinated.
"I do not know, Hrofgar. I just took a dagger, an-" His voice was interrupted by a sudden orange glow slam into him, though since it was not physical, it was purely metaphorical.
This glow filled him with a sort of power, of which he had never felt before.
"S-sir?"
M'kay, so, I mixed it up a bit, gave you a longer prologue, added a different type of dragon for some odd reason, made a sailor, and all to compensate for the month of not posting anything.