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The Lost Dragon

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Lady N's picture
Joined: 06/26/2010

Author - Squishyfaun/Marisela G.

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Upon the snowy mountains, the wind stirred only in a soft breeze yet the air still hold it's harsh icy embrace for any traveler wandering through it's realm. Fortunately for them, they have one accompany them in their isolation as the traveler trudges through the snow, hoping to find a dry place to slumber for the night. Many would be confused on why such a person be wandering about in these harsh conditions than cozy up in a inn or their home? Perhaps if you were in this particular individual's boots, you too would desire comforts of nocturnal's shadows enveloping you to the point of numbness.

This traveler has gain many names: champion, blood-kin, brother, new-blade, swifty paws...the prisoner and so many more. As of now, they've gain a title that brings people and many creatures of the lands trembling to their gods, Dovalkin, but in mortal tongue, Dragonborn. The dragonborn known as Diarmuid, doesn't deem the title utmost important along with the many other given names he has gain throughout his years of traveling all over Nirn. He has seen what power can make a being do and it's something he has no interest in it yet the fates bestowed him the opportunities where Diarmuid only got himself  involved either for the need to help, gain money to buy food, weapons, spells or armor to survive the tough lands. It's confusing to see how within an hour, villagers scoff you off to praising you as if you shared the same blood of a god or a daedra, depending on what our traveler stumbles upon.

After years of venturing out the lands, Diarmuid decided to return to the lands of Skyrim and leave himself to be isolated upon the frozen tundra. Nevertheless, you've noticed, the fates have more up their sleeve for him as he recently discover he’s been bestowed Akatosh’s gift as the next dragonborn; capable of speaking the tongue within a wave of a hand or shall we say, a shout. The mountains above boom a thundery roar to heed Diarmuid for his calling where he must venture out to where the Greybeards reside. They’re known as a group of elders who spent years on mastering the “Way of the Voice” which is a more peaceful approach on using the dragon-language than the usual malicious intentions. Diarmuid, however, is never at peace for he had to spend everyday surviving to find answers of a forgotten life. Regardless, he still took upon himself to accept the invitation and is now at the ruin stairs that lead to High H'rothgar, known as the tallest mountain of in Skyrim.

On his way to the top, he stops to read the stone tablets that share the tales of Akatosh to the era of dragons enslaving mortals and the origins of the dragonborn. As he read theses, he looks out at the blizzard sky, wondering if he should bother at all.

"I didn't ask for this...", Diarmuid speaks calmly to the darken skies. "What makes you think I'm of worthy? I..I have all of this power, that I also didn't ask yet out of everyone in this damned realms, you trust me? Should it be considered unwise to gift the broken or lost?" Whether it was the cold or exhaustion, he couldn't tell, but Diarmuid knew he's speaking nonsense to the darken clouds. Sighing in defeat, the dragonborn continues on as he would stumble upon ravage wolves, bears, and some troll which was beneath a perfect spot for Diarmuid to settle a bit before confronting the Greybeards. He curls up in his thick clothing cape and allowed the heat to build up, which surprisingly formed right away.

"Well at least it makes sense now on why I can tolerate with cold climates.", Diarmuid snorts to himself as he watches the snowflakes falling, one by one to calm his nerves. Breathing heavily, he can feel his entire body glued to the ground, unsure what to do. Stay here and embrace the cold or continue forward, accepting this newfound destiny.

"You won’t be at peace till you recover yourself, Diarmuid."

A self reminder to his will that regardless of it all, whether it be a strange, cruel joke from the fates, a plan from the gods or daedra, or a test, Diarmuid has to continue on. He has to find the answer, so far he's unsure of what it'll solve, but at least it'll ease this prisoner of many names his life of wandering...wandering what does he need, where does he belong and who he really is.

Lady N's picture
Joined: 06/26/2010

This piece was written for our 20th anniversary fan art contest! It is strictly property of its original creator - you may not modify, publish, or redistribute it without explicit permission from the artist.