16th of Sun’s Dusk, 4E 201
The dragons seem to follow me.
One of them attacked several students on the steps of the College about a week ago. I fought it, though the bloody bastard kept hovering above the tower. I fixed that problem by rushing up to the roof via the Archmage’s quarters. Archmage Savos Aren was pretty indigent that I burst through his private rooms, but once he followed me to the roof and realized what was going on, he helped me bring the dragon down.
It crashed to the ground like a tremendous thunderbolt, its head finally resting in front of Magnus’s statue, like a supplicant kneeling before the god of magic.
Some of the mages and students were thrilled once it was dead, they had a chance to study a dragon’s skeleton. Others, the more sensible ones I think, were afraid. This was the second dragon to attack Winterhold.
I’ve lost count of how many have appeared in the skies. I hate having to fight them, even when it’s to save my own life. They are so beautiful, their bodies cut from the very fabric of Aetherius and shaped by the hands of the gods. It feels sad to look at their skeletal bodies when they die, bereft of everything that made them beautiful.
Maybe I also hate to fight dragons because I’m so damned tired of fighting. I had my fill of it during the Great War. After that ended, I went back to adventuring because it was all I knew how to do, but what I really wanted was to retire somewhere and be left the hell alone. Not that the Thalmor will ever let that happen.
I went to Whiterun to visit Elrindir yesterday. I promised him I’d show him one of the Dawnguard’s crossbows. If he was interested, I’d talk to Isran about letting him make more for us. Sorine’s good at making them, but we’re growing too large for her to supply us by herself.
I was chatting with him in his shop when I heard the flapping of wings outside. I remember cursing, then running out with the crossbow in my hands. Like I expected, a dragon was just outside the city gates, dammit.
I fought the creature alongside a handful of guards, but this one was more powerful than the others I fought before. Soon the guards laid at my feet, and I was barely standing.
My magicka was spent, and my left arm was broken in two places. My crossbow was laying on the ground, useless. I didn’t want to use the thu’um, especially so close to the city, but I didn’t have any choice.
The words ripped themselves from my throat: Gaan, Lah, Haas. Their power shook the ground where I stood, sending me to my knees. I watched the air ripple, the dragon lurch, then it fell dead in front of me. I could feel hot tears in my eyes as its soul merged with my own.
Gods, I hate doing this!
A few hours later, I was resting in the Temple of Kynareth, letting a priest tend to my arm, when a courier arrived with a letter for me. It reads:
- Tel’kiira Kethrina,
- You caused a bit of stir in Whiterun when you demonstrated the power of your Thu’um. Not everyone is anxious for the return of the Dragonborn.
- I for one desire to see you grow and develop your talents. Skyrim needs a true hero these days.
- You should turn your attention to Ironbind Barrow. I understand it holds a mysterious source of power that can only be unlocked by the Dragonborn.
- Sincerely,
- A Friend
Lovely, another word wall. I’ve been sent a handful of these, wish I knew from who.
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