Dragonborn Ascendant (1)

The cold wind sweeping the tundra made me shiver and curse being woefully underdressed in Skyrim. It was summer but the plains were still deceitfully cold, a chill wind coming from the Pale on the north, carrying with it the turning of a season. Whiterun rose in the distance atop of a hill, Dragonsreach looming far away, still encased in the shadows of the early morning's first light. My destination was clear as I got up, finishing putting out the little campfire I had lit for the night; and my mission was urgent.

I got up, picking the two bags with provisions, supplies and equipment I had been handed over or collected on my way here and retraced my path to the road cutting the tundra. I didn't expect having to spend the night out in the wilderness when I left Riverwood. I had walked almost the entire day since I departed the small town, but all that seemed to amount to was only me getting out of the valley the White River ran through. I hoped that with my early rising I could finish the trek to the hold's capital city, but I knew the distances in a plain field could be misleading.

Skyrim.

I was in Skyrim…

If it wasn't the shock, or perhaps the incredulity of this entire situation leaving me as numb as I was, as well as the urgency of my mission, then I was sure I would be breaking down into a panicked mess right at this moment. Tamriel scared me. Nirn did. This world was not a gentle one, Skyrim was torn in Civil War and numerous threats were rising from every corner. An ancient dragonborn, an insurrection of a folk exiled in their own land, vampires rising with a plan to blot out the sun, the resurface of the first dragonborn hellbent on conquering the land and the return of the dragons, primarily amongst them Alduin, who would destroy the world or conquer it once again.

Assuming the role of the Last Dragonborn in a videogame was easy. A game could be exploited, AI and enemies were sometimes not even nearly as strong as they should and no matter what, if you died, you could always come back to try another time. But real life was not so easy, and being the Last Dragonborn certainly felt daunting. All the tasks, all the trials I had gone through in a video game, I would have to go through all those ordeals in my life if I ever wanted for there to be peace, however momentary.

It terrified me. It made me hesitate to even take a step because I didn't want to be the hero of this story.

But I didn't have a choice on that matter, all signs pointed that I was the Last Dragonborn. So it only remained to me the option of proceeding forward and fulfilling whatever role I might have in this world.

It was while walking through the Whiterun Hold tundra as the day progressed that I started to realise just the sheer size of the world, and how Whiterun proper far dwarfed whatever representation it had in game. The city was massive, sprawling all across a hill on its less steep part, with three layers of thick and imposing dark stone walls that I could see from afar. At a guess, I would say the city housed… a few thousand people comfortably, and maybe a dozen or two perhaps, but that was only inside the walls because even outside of it the city seemed to be bustling and teeming with life and activity.

Fellow travellers, caravans, numerous carts pulled by oxen or horses carrying with them the entire surplus harvest of farmers that tooks the risky trip to the city looking to get some more coin. I was only thankful I wasn’t wearing anymore the imperial uniform Hadvar had advised me to take, instead ditching it at the Riverwood Trader in favour of a lighter set of clothes I now regretted taking; otherwise I was fairly certain the imperials would have scrutinised me much more than they did when their patrol passed through me. As it stood however, I only got some suspicious looks thrown my way on occasion, as well as some berth through the road.

People in Skyrim viewed mages rather unfavourably. Well, no, that’s not true, Nords viewed mages with some mistrust. Something which wasn’t entirely unreasonable at all, sensible even, since mages, and magic as such, were very dangerous things that should not be trifled with lightly. I was no mage by any means, but in retrospect, I must have looked like one. That or, well, a complete foreigner arriving at Skyrim for the first time. Which wasn’t wrong and much more likely. I must have made for quite the comical sight too.

Slowly as the hours started to blend and the sun was closest to its apex on the sky I could finally say I was close to the city. The fields here were much more bare, although there were still plenty in which had yet to be harvested. Wheat, barley, lettuce, cabbage, onion, carrot and potato, the crops were numerous and fairly numerous, something I found quite impressive.

Until that is, I found a giant.

There was a huge roadblock where people were gathering around. Sometimes I could hear the sounds of shouting, but for the most part there were only apprehensive murmurs and nervous looks going on around as the people jittered, being organised by the Whiterun guards into a queue.

“Everything is fine,” they would tell the people, trying to reassure them. “The Companions are already taking care of it.” And the earth would tremble with the deaf thuds of the giant’s golps slamming against the ground not too far away.

It was recklessness, I knew, but I saw this as an opportunity.

I ducked out of the line that was forming, ignoring the calls of the guards when they noticed me heading directly towards the area the battle was happening, but by then I was too far away for them to care enough to come and bring me back.

I followed the perimeter of a house to the backyard where an area, an entire plot of land, had seen fences raised surrounding it. It was a field, much smaller than one of the others I had seen on my way here which led me to think it was meant to serve the families nearby at most. There was a clear hole in the fence from which a giant had come through, a giant that found himself surrounded on all sides by one Companion or another. One was a tall man fully decked in steel armour, carrying with him and swinging an impressive sword that kept chipping at the giant. The other man looked far less impressive, donning a set of studded armour with a smaller sword and a shield held on each hand just like the woman closest to him. Together, the three of them kept punishing the giant while another woman rained arrows on the beast.

“Out of the way, milk drinker!” The fiery red haired archer yelled. “You will get yourself killed.”

“I can help,” I shouted back, hopping over the fence and pulling my sword from my hip.

The huntress made some noise of protest which I easily ignored. To be frank, I was itching for something to happen. The walk from Riverwood to Whiterun was not a short one, and beyond that, this being practically the fourth day of almost non stop walking ever since I fled from Helgen at Alduin’s return. I was tired, my body ached and I felt a bone deep soreness seeping into my every pore. Despite claiming not being an adrenaline junkie, it was my heart pumping in my chest, the burning hotness of feeling the blood actively flow through my veins and the state of sudden alertness that pushed me to do this, beyond this being a prime opportunity to ingratiate myself to some of the Companion’s inner circle.

I exhaled a deep breath from my lungs, gripping my sword a tad more tightly. The giant was, well, tall. Easily five metres in height, almost completely naked except for a loincloth made of fur and pelts of some kind and what looked like a bandolier across his exposed chest. The creature was ugly, heidious even, with large, gangly members that were entirely too disproportionate with the lanky body and unnatural pale skin. This was a creature that could kill a patrol of soldiers without much difficulty, and I was rushing right along to fight it.

Something had changed inside me.

“Oi, mammoth fucker!” I yelled with my full lungs, somehow managing to cut through and be heard over the sounds of fighting.

And that is how I discovered that giants aren’t mindless brutes that don’t understand the common tamrielic tongue, giving the absolutely murderous glare he shot me.

The momentary pause proved a mistake, however, for that was all it took for the Nord wielding the two handed sword to swing his blade down, coasting off momentum and power for the tip of the blade bite and making more than a superficial glance on the giant’s thigh.

“Ugh!” The giant grunted, legs wavering for a moment as an expression of fury contorted on its face, and the other two warriors fell down on him with fury.

But before a counterattack could happen I once again drew in the beast’s attention. “Hey!” I yelled. “Eat this!” I shot my hand forward.

Magicka lurched within me, it was a sort of energy that was unmistakable in its feeling, and it surged from deep within my guts, coiling around my arms as it flowed naturally to my hand. It took me barely even a conscious thought to call it, and only a flicker of will and intent as it pushed. My hand crackled, and sparks flew from my fingers in the direction I was pointing at.

The giant’s head snapped back, recoiling as if he was suddenly struck. Sparks flew, lightning arcing through the air as I unleashed my most powerful - and embarrassingly enough, the most basic - shock spell I had in my repertoire. The giant flinched with the electricity hitting his face, and a moment of hesitation saw his knees wobbling and legs buckling as the extensive wounds, the many small cuts on the legs and tendons of the creature finally seemed to take their toll on the absurd constitution.

“It’s wounded!” Someone yelled, and there were three furious roars.

Four, as I joined the Companions, yelling as I threw myself in the fray.

With one hand I slashed and with the other I called for flickering flames to burn and char the giant whenever I could. Our pressure was immense, four people simultaneously attacking a wounded beast. Not even a giant that had been already suffering in their hands would have been able to resist the onslaught for long.

A blade pierced its belly. It was not mine, but we all celebrated as the giant roared in inpotent rage, a hand clutching his stomach protectively. Then there was a piercing on his back that bled profusely. My own blade sunk on the giant’s thigh at some point, and though it wasn't the first nor the last injury, after much struggling the beast finally toppled down, exhausted.

“Oogh.” The giant groaned before a final blow was landed.

“Hah!” Laughed the burly brunette man in steel armour. “This was a good fight. Is anyone injured?” He turned to his two companions, but none signalled so and he nodded satisfied. “Good.”

“Milk drinker,” the huntress's voice sounded from my back and we all turned to see a vision of beauty scowling fiercely my way. “You shouldn’t have done that, you could have gotten yourself killed. Worse, you could have gotten one of my shield siblings hurt, and I swear you would have regretted it if that came to happen.” She all but growled, taking firm steps until there were only a few inches separating the two of us.

For a woman that only reached my chest I had to admit she was more than a little intimidating. Perhaps the wolf’s blood speaking, but as she practically growled, eyes not leaving my own for a single second I could admit that she made me hesitant and almost made me stumble. Thankfully someone came to my rescue.

“Peace Aela,” the strong brunette interjected. “No harm fell on anyone, you shouldn’t be barking at the man.”

The woman growled at him this time, but just for a short few seconds before huffing and swirling around on her heels, storming off right after.

“And there she goes…” The other man mutters, stepping to my side. “She didn’t like you, Aela. No she didn’t.” He shook his head, clicking his tongue in pity.

“She’ll come around it, I’m sure.” Farkas said. Or maybe it was Vilkas. “I’m Farkas by the way, one of the Companions of Whiterun. You were a good help, milk drinker, if not a particularly skilled warrior. What’s your name?”

“Magnus,” I replied absent mindedly, taking his offered hand and clasping our wrists together in a firm shake.

“Magnus, I see,” Farkas hummed, testing the sound of my name. “Here, take this. You helped us with the giant, so you are entitled to a part of the bounty.”

“That’s very generous of you,” I said, graciously accepting the coins. Five septims. It might not look like much, particularly when one considers the prices inside the game, but here there wasn’t the inflation like in the modern day countries of Earth, and gold, however little they were in the form of these coins, was still extremely valuable. “Thank you.”

The larger companion grunted, slapping my shoulder as he started to walk back to the city with the other two in tow. And dragging me somewhat. “You earned it. Are you going to Whiterun, Magnus?” He asked and I nodded. “Then come with us, the guards will give you no trouble.”

“Aye, many thanks,” I breathed in relief. “I come from Riverwood with urgent news to the Jarl, being stopped at the gates would be… not ideal.”

“Trouble?” Farkas raised a curious eyebrow and I nodded in return.

“A dragon, it came from nowhere and attacked Helgen. Razed the entire castle down to the ground. I was there when it all happened, and would be dead myself if an legion soldier hadn’t helped me escape.” I told. “Good man, that one. I hope he is safe.”

“A dragon, you say, attacked Helgen…?” Farkas hummed, a dark frown crossing his face. “That’s some real big trouble.”

My adrenaline high finally stopped when we were almost at the gates to the city, and I suddenly felt even more exhausted than usual. The guards posted there gave me a efw odd looks for a moment but didn’t stop me from going inside with the Companions after Farkas traded a few words with them. They did comment about Aela, and how she came by first looking ready to murder whoever crossed her path.

I honestly didn’t know what I did that made her so… upset with me.

Maybe it was my dismissing of her order and heading right along into the fight with the giant. She could have probably taken it as me ignoring her authority, or not acknowledging it. I could see how people would feel annoyed by it, but to get so angry? Either she didn’t like me from the very beginning or the wolf’s blood fucked with a person more than I had imagined and the game had let on.

Most likely the latter.

Farkas, the good man he was, only laughed, slapping me across the back and making me wince as he reassured me that whatever was going on with Aela wouldn’t be for long.

“Women, eh?” He smiled. “You can never trust their moods.”

“Hey!” Ria, the other companion and the only female - an imperial, I think - in our little walking group protested. “That’s not true at all!”

That got a good laugh out of me.