sebille kaleran. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
preyed) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
museboxings2013-03-05 08:32 pm
preyed) wrote in museboxings2013-03-05 08:32 pm
"the dragonborn comes"
It had been less than two weeks since the defeat of Alduin at the hands of the Dragonborn. Rumors of her victory spread far and wide, from the far ends of Skyrim and further into Cyrodiil and Morrowind. There were people coming to her door at all hours, offering her blessings and flowers, gifts of coin. There were warriors who wished to pledge their allegiance to her for the great victory she had brought them. They begged and kowtowed, calling her another savior from Akatosh, the likes that had not been seen since Martin Septim himself.
It was a disgusting display of penitence. She found herself lucky that there were many cities in Skyrim that did not recognize her face or title, people who were willing to think of her merely as an adventurer and nothing else. But as word traveled, so too did her anonymity vanish. It was becoming tiresome.
She abandoned the cottage in Whiterun and her larger home in Riften, allowing the two housecarls there to see to its safety. One house remained hers, a side project that no one knew about, and she would keep it that way. She'd had enough of this 'savior' business, instead taking her leave of the clustered cities to find refuge on the road. The cold air nipped at her skin almost pleasantly in contrast to the fire within her, forcing her to continue on well into the night and early dawn. Only when the sun began to rise on Rorikstead did she think to stop, pleased at her progress.
The roar of a dragon brought all of that to a screeching halt. The sky was lit ablaze with fire and she pulled out the bow slung across her back and fired up into the dragon as it came swooping down. It nearly barreled into her, its tail lashing and striking her back. She hit the ground and rolled into the grass, pitching her bow to the side in favor of her warhammer. She swung angrily, her cloak whipping back as she went. Fire seared past her and burned the fabric, forcing her to rip it off and cast it aside.
Oh, this one was going to be a challenge. She smiled slightly. Good. She liked a good fight.
It was a disgusting display of penitence. She found herself lucky that there were many cities in Skyrim that did not recognize her face or title, people who were willing to think of her merely as an adventurer and nothing else. But as word traveled, so too did her anonymity vanish. It was becoming tiresome.
She abandoned the cottage in Whiterun and her larger home in Riften, allowing the two housecarls there to see to its safety. One house remained hers, a side project that no one knew about, and she would keep it that way. She'd had enough of this 'savior' business, instead taking her leave of the clustered cities to find refuge on the road. The cold air nipped at her skin almost pleasantly in contrast to the fire within her, forcing her to continue on well into the night and early dawn. Only when the sun began to rise on Rorikstead did she think to stop, pleased at her progress.
The roar of a dragon brought all of that to a screeching halt. The sky was lit ablaze with fire and she pulled out the bow slung across her back and fired up into the dragon as it came swooping down. It nearly barreled into her, its tail lashing and striking her back. She hit the ground and rolled into the grass, pitching her bow to the side in favor of her warhammer. She swung angrily, her cloak whipping back as she went. Fire seared past her and burned the fabric, forcing her to rip it off and cast it aside.
Oh, this one was going to be a challenge. She smiled slightly. Good. She liked a good fight.