Dúathil the Bosmer, Skyrim Anniversary Edition
It seems I'm actually turning into a respectable person... well, as much as those proud Nords and Imperials can respect a Bosmer anyway.
I delivered the Dragonstone to the court mage and all of a sudden an actual dragon was sighted near the watch tower... why I was sent to fight it, I have no idea. Apparently having seen a living dragon while down on my knees in front of the executioner's headblock makes me some kind of an expert.
At least this one was much smaller. I joined the Whiterun guards at the tower, trying to stick it with arrows while it circled above our heads, breathing fire. Some magic would have been useful now, but dipping my arrows in poison helped, too.
When the dragon landed, I got close enough for the kill, but ended up with singed hair and scorched armour.
Strangely, when the dragon died it burst into flame and released some kind of energy that I felt rushing through me.
I had no idea what was happening to me and tried to get back to Whiterun as fast as possible. I'm sure my scorched smell gave me away, but I'm getting better at remaining unseen.
In the forest of my childhood, and later as a thief in back alleys and on rooftops, nobody saw Dúathil the Night Shadow if she didn't want to be seen, but in this vast, open land I had to learn completely new skills to remain unseen.
Unseen doesn't mean unnoticed, though. When I got back to Whiterun, thunder cracked and a booming voice called out as if from the sky "DOVAHKIIN!" Dragonborn!
As if that weren't enough to paint a target on my back, the Jarl decided to make me Thane of Whiterun and gave me elven armour... which I could hardly refuse to wear, especially because my leather armour had black, smoking holes in it.
Yes, yes, elven armour is impressive, but it still looks far too flashy for a hunter and a sneaking scout. At least it's light and comfortable. I'd still prefer a hood instead of that restricting helmet, but I'll have to find an enchanted one.
I followed the dangerous path towards meeting the Greybeards, fought vampire fledglings, bears and bandits along the way, until I finally reached Ivarstead and took the 7000 steps up the mountain to reach the High Hrothgar.
Got attacked by a snow bear and something I had never seen before.
When it died, it dropped some translucent teeth. I took them with me and later a pilgrim told me it had been an ice wraith. Fascinating creatures.
It took half a day to climb that mountain, reading some stone tablets with information about dragons and their voices along the way. It was quite meditative, and I found that the calm that came with it greatly helped to sharpen the senses and reflexes even when being attacked by wild beasts. It almost feels as if time slows down in that moment. I think I can put this experience to good use.
(Yes! That perk is priceless for a lightly armoured archer, especially when a cave bear is running towards you at full speed).
I reached the fortress of the High Hrothgar in the middle of the night, but the Greybeards were expecting me and taught me how to use my new abilities and how to further improve them in the future. They couldn't tell me what it means, why I have those powers or what to use them for. I'll have to figure that out for myself. And a good thing that is, too. I wouldn't want to be a puppet for some political or religious purpose.
Afterwards they sent me on an errand that I'm not supposed to mention to anyone, but they're concerned about the return of the dragons. And right they are. Those beasts seem to smell my blood or sense me through those new abilities, I don't know. But the first one attacked me right there in Ivarstead just when I came down from the mountain.
From that day, they started hunting me through all of Skyrim. But I'm not prey, I'm a different kind of hunter. Here's one of them after crash landing in Riverwood. Quite an attraction for the children, as you can see.
"In all my life I've never seen such a thing!" she said. Yeah, kid, you and all of Skyrim, even those 10 times your age.
They're everywhere. When I meet them near settlements, I fight them. Right now, people whisper "Dragonborn" and are impressed, but if I don't show them what I do with it, a reputation of "she appears, and beasts follow to burn our town to the ground" is earned quickly, so I need to be careful.
If I'm alone in the wilderness and hear a dragon roar, I take cover and get away. I'm not suicidal. Look what happened to that person:
Meanwhile I got fully accepted into the Circle of the Companions. Aela enlisted my help to eliminate the Silver Hand, but the Harbinger, Kodlac Whitemane, wants me to find a cure for lycanthropy, because he wants to spend his afterlife in the eternal mead hall of Sovngarde. For that, I need to kill a Glenmoril Witch and bring her head to him. If only I knew where to find them.
On my way to sell my spares and get some fresh supplies in Riverwood, I was attacked by yet another dragon, in almost the same spot! What's wrong with those creatures? Do they really sense me? And if so, can I learn to do the same in return? I'll have to ask the Greybeards once I bring them the... the thing they sent me to find.
The lack of short-time memory in humans is a bit concerning, I think.
All of them, gawking like children, claiming in all their lives they had never seen such a thing, when they
literally stood there saying the same only a few days ago! Even Faendal, who is Bosmer like me! Or is that the way of village people, protecting themselves from fear and helplessness by simply repressing bad memories? Very odd.
Nobody could tell me where to find Glenmoril Witches, but the Harbinger is old and might not have much time left, and I really felt like getting away from all that Dragonborn fame. I do what I must, and I use any tool given to me, but I'm not some hero and won't be turned into a symbol (while they still call me "elf" in that condescending manner) or drawn into the crazy conflict between Stormcloaks and Imperials. I couldn't care less who worships which god. Let them fight their wars.
South I went, following the river into unknown territory, reaching the city of Riften. First they didn't allow me to pass the southern gate, then they wanted to charge me gold for passing the northern gate. I gave the guard just one calculated look and a word of advice, and he let me pass. Smart man.
I had heard whispers about an active thieves' guild in Riften, and immediately spotted some of their members among the crowd. But they saw me, too. Fancy armour doesn't fool someone in the secret business. You can't hide your upbringing under a gilded helmet. It's everywhere, in the way you walk, look, talk and even stand, if you know what to watch out for. So their leader (not the boss, most likely. Those don't come out into the streets. A lieutenant or general maybe), Brynjolf, approached me with a task, probably to see what I'm made of, to check if I'm a threat to be eliminated or an asset to be recruited.
I didn't leave my old life to be haunted by it now, but he saw me and I saw him. For the moment, I agreed to his terms, if only to check what this is about. I'll have to cooperate if I want to see what they're up to. I'm not naive. A well-organized thieves guild can help to control and discipline criminals who would cripple a city if they remained unchecked, and some gray business can provide an alternative for those unwilling or unable to make a living through official means. And sometimes, the thieves are the least criminal of all, unlike some fat, rich, officially licensed businessmen or noblemen.
But I swear to all the gods that might listen, if I see they are mistreating children and other weaker guild members the way it was done to me and my fellows in Cyrodiil, I will silently stick a poisoned dagger into every last one of them and display their bodies in the town square.
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