Celtic! I too write stories for my characters! It started after I quit WoW last May and I have a 50 page story for my paladin. Now for my character, Skarvald, I have a 1 1/2 story so far... Here it is...
It was in the early morning of Turdas, Sun’s Dusk 10th - 4E 201. The sky was bright and the air was warm with the trees moving as if they were in rhythm with the wind breezing by. I was walking, rather running, in the forests of Skyrim, one of the many providences on the continent called Tamriel. The reason I was running is because I was in a hurry. I was on a mission given to me by the Imperial Legion, whom I was working for as a sell-sword, a mercenary if you will.
As I ran on the cobble-stone paved roads, I stopped at the place I was looking for, a small tunnel where some Stormcloak rebels had step up camp. When I finally arrived just outside the encampment, I noticed that there was only one of them there, sitting down and drinking mead. I unsheathed my blade and cunningly, like a fox, snuck up to the Nord soldier. I noticed some of his features while looking at the rebel. His face showed his participation in the war; a scar lay on his left eye. He had brown hair, long enough to reach his shoulders; it was not braided. He had no beard, but was clean shaven. Finally, I was ready to strike the Nord when he noticed me. He got up and unsheathed his blade shouting, “Who are you? What do you want?”
I looked at him and stood up from my crouched position. “Skarvald Bladeborn. I am here on a mission given by the Legion. I am a mercenary,” I said confidently. The Stormcloak scoffed at the sound of the word ‘Legion’ and spoke in response, “A sell-sword, eh? Tell me, who is your superior?” Normally I was not allowed to disclose that kind of information, but since I was going to kill this bastard, I decided I’d take the risk. “He is General Santai, stationed in Markarth.” My opponent then said, “Well in that case, you can die!” He charged at me, attempting to thrust his blade at my right arm. I ducked, and brought my shield up and successfully deviated the attack. I then rushed towards him, and tackled him, bringing him to the ground. I stood up, keeping a boot on his chest and pointed my sword to his neck.
He looked at me, grinning, “You’ve won. A fair fight, but may I have a few last words?” I looked at him and said sternly, “I’m listening...” He then continued, “So tell me, Skarvald, what do you think about the Legion? About them here in Skyrim, serving the Aldmeri Dominion – The Thalmor?” The question made me think about what I was doing, why I served the Legion as a hired soldier. “I.. I hate them...” I said, “They burned my village to the ground when I was but a lad.” Tears formed in my eyes, though I tried to hide them from being noticed. “Why do you care?” I asked him. He then replied, “Because I hate them as much as you do, Skarvald. Come, I have something to show you.”
We walked out to a cliff overlooking Markarth, the view was amazing from here. The Nord stood at the edge, facing me. He then yelled, “Now shout at me! Shout with the Thu’um and blast me off this place!” I looked at him in confusion, “Shout? Are you crazy? I do not know the Thu’um, the Way of the Voice!” The soldier then laughed at me, “Oh, but that is where you are wrong. The words are locked inside you, all you need to do is find the key to unlock them. I believe you have the power, Skarvald, to find that key and unlock these words. Now shout!” I then closed my eyes and felt a tranquil presence, then an energy rushing through me like nothing I’ve ever felt before. When I opened my eyes, I open my mouth, roaring at him. It was at this time, that I shouted the words of a dragon, “FUS RO DAH!” The shout almost deafened me, it’s loud amplified blast ringed loudly in my ears. The Stormcloak was thrown off the cliff, beyond my line of sight. I thought that I had killed him, but that is were I was wrong. I turn back for one second, and I hear a loud roar, something that had not been heard in centuries. It was the roar, of a dragon. I quickly face forward and see the soldier, whose eyes glowed bright yellow and wore wings out of his back. It appeared to be a dragon-hybrid of some sort... I shook in fear at the sight of it.
To my utter surprise, the dragon-hybrid spoke in a tongue that I could hardly understand in a deep voice, “Hin, joor. Hin fron do brom... Nust lost dwiin ahrk zin. Nuz, nust dreh ni lost faal Thu’um, faal zul do faal Dov. You, Mortal. Your kin of Nord... They have steel and honor. But, they do not have the Thu’um, the shout of the Dragon.” It then shouted with flames coming from it’s mouth. I raised my shield again to block his attempts to injury and was successful once more. I then shouted again, this time like him. Fire shot from my throat, though not as powerful as he. The word for this shout, was ‘YOL’. I do not know how I knew these words, but something told me that I had a destiny like no other. My opponent then roared in pain, “Hin... Hin Thu’um los zoor! Drog Alduin fent hon do hin ahrk hin zoor Thu’um! You... Your shout is legend! Lord Alduin shall hear of you and your legendary Thu’um!”
As he flew away, now as a full dragon, he roared with echo, “Daar los ni faal oblaan, Dovahkiin! Hin dinok fent kos morokei wah Alduin ahrk faal praan do faal Dov! This is not the end, Dragonborn! Your death shall be glorious to Alduin and the rest of the Dragon-kind!” Soon, I would be told that I had a destiny with the return of the dragons, a destiny that would save the world from complete destruction.
...I shall post them in my blogs then! :-)
