It was a frigid day, as was expected, in the northern Tamrielic province of Skyrim. Skyrim, for those who may not know (which is to be expected due to circumstances I will explain), is currently home to a human race called the Nords, among others. ,Humans are a bipedal, mostly hairless race that reside wherever civilization may be found unlike in Black Marsh, where Argonians, a reptilian race live. Subspecies of Humans are Bretons, Imperials, and Redguards. There are, of course, the Elves. Some hate them, others tolerate them, and others treat them the same as they would any other. Their subspecies include High Elves (Altmer), Wood Elves (Bosmer), the Orcs (Orsimer), and the Dark Elves (Dunmer). Finally, there are the beast races, prejudiced and reviled. The Argonians, of which I am a part, and the Khajiit, a feline race. They all have their particular character traits which can be easily found out by looking at the names of each race. One of the most important parts of this story you may be reading, is my status as Dragonborn. A Dragonborn is not someone literally born of a Dragon. Unless you consider Akatosh himself a true dragon, instead of a divin- oh dear. Explaining all of these concepts will be very, very difficult. I fear I won’t have enough time to do this. Besides this story isn’t about my world now is it? It is about my adventures in YOUR world. I’ll make sure to bring a set of books about my world to bring to you. Perhaps as a companion guide. You will most certainly need it. I speak of things that my new acquaintances have never known, nor dreamed of. Read on, my little Ponies. Or my fellow men and mer. Do what you must.

Ah yes, it was cold in Skyrim. I believe a statement as painfully obvious as this was never spoken until now. I myself was sleeping in this morning, in my quaint home in Whiterun, a city in Skyrim. I? My brothers and friends know me as Dragonborn, among many other names, although I like to refer to myself as Darr-Ei. I am an Argonian, an attribute which is only known through appearance of my tail, for my head is protected by a helmet, and not many see my face nor do they hear the typical Argonian accent. This I do not quite understand, but my heritage as Dragonborn may help with providing an answer. Argonians rarely shout, so maybe the Nine took my true voice away so I could better do their bidding? I digress. I was taking a brief respite from my adventures that consisted of: ending a civil war, destroying an ancient being capable of wiping out all life, traveling through time, killing dragons, and generally being a savior of this province and perhaps even the world.

I awoke from my bed after a dream that I could not recount to you for its contents might offend. They do not consist of what you think they would. Let us just say that when one kills as much as I have, the mind tends to delve into very odd places. Perhaps it was not the killing, but it was the fact that I did the bidding of daedric lords to further my own power? I immediately rose out of bed and set my clawed feet upon the floor, wondering what I would do next. I looked at my armor from across the room. I felt a sort of longing for it, like I would not be myself without it, but I decided that being a (relatively) normal citizen would do for today, something I normally would not decide to do. Today was special I thought, for reasons I experience difficulty relaying to you. I simply felt it in my scales, as my brothers would say. Of course, I didn't feel safe being completely vulnerable, so I wore only my gauntlets and brought along my battle-axe, Neck Taker, that I... received from an anonymous executioner in his home. I mean I killed him in cold-blood. I’m not going to explain myself, this isn’t what this is about. Do you understand? As I was saying: I was about to walk outside and greet the day when I found myself gazing around my house looking at all of my armaments. And Thusly, the longing came back, in full force this time. I sighed deeply.

Hmm... Perhaps today won't be as special a day as I thought.

***

I ended up wearing some Blades armor I had received from the Blades themselves and some ebony boots that I had forged myself. A long amount of time was spent determining what I was going to bring as a weapon. I was debating between stylish weapon, a scimitar, or a terrifiying malicious presence borne of the King of Rape himself. That is to say, Molag Bal’s mace. I chose the Scimitar, Luna, partly because people would become nervous in the presence of the Mace. The name of the scimitar, Luna, also spoke to me in ways I couldn’t understand until now. Alas, I opened the door and I started on my way.

***

"HEED MY WORDS!" yelled the mad priest who I would normally find in front of a statue to Talos. Something in his voice made me stop and listen, unlike when I would simply ignore him, designating his gospel as pretty much useless.. He seemed more panicked and worried than normal. I stopped and smiled at the crowds gathering. As rude and dishonest as it was, I believed that there was some money and perhaps a moral boost to be gained here. I walked toward the crowd. The reaction I normally would get was nowhere to be found here. No mentions of my heritage as Dragonborn, nothing about my Thane-ship, and not even a disapproving look from the prejudiced. I ignored this, and swaggered toward the Priest when a hand grabbed roughly me upon the shoulder and spun me around. I turned and faced a Nord who was wearing a strange insignia on his clothes. He held a dagger clenched in his fist out toward my neck, and he wore a manic countenance. I waited for him to say his piece before I would violently behead him, and he opened his mouth and said "First Winterhold, and now this?" as he prepared to plunge the dagger into my chest "DAMN MAGES!"

***

I prepared my Thu'um, inhaling deeply, and unleashed it at full force, "TIID KLO UL!" and time began to slow down around me. I pushed his arm off of mine lightly with my right, and I pulled my left hand backward to knock his teeth out with my gauntlet. The hit connected. Spittle, teeth and blood splashed slowly out of his mouth, my punch having caused significant damage. He was stunned and in tremendous pain. Time was slowed by my Shout, so I had plenty of time to figure out what to do next. His slowed reaction time allowed me to punch him directly in the face. I felt his jaw break and the force knocked his head to the side. I kicked him backwards, knocking him towards the ground, and I unsheathed my Neck Taker. I advanced towards him as he hit the ground. I raised the instrument of judgment and prepared to do what my weapon was named for, that being painfully obvious. Suddenly the Shout's effects ceased. The crowd immediately became aware of what occurred. I recognized that the majority of the crowd had that strange insignia on them in some way. The priest, I realized was nervous the whole time throughout the speech and would glance in my direction. I began to think it was a trap. The crowd turned toward me and they reached into their clothing to pull out whatever they may have concealed...

A Dragonborn, Destiny, and Very Small Horses

by DarrParrot

The First