The Saga of the Dragonborn, Harken all unto this tale! Options

[Colonel Mustard]

Hail, all ye fine folk of Chorrol!

I've been reading around a good deal of epic poems lately, and I've decided to try penning one of my own. With Skyrim fitting the bill for a classic Icelandic saga quite perfectly, I thought I'd give transcribing the events of one of my favourite games to the parchment digital.

For clarification, I'm basically treating this as a bit of Stormcloak propaganda; it makes the similes and epithets and so forth easier to write for some reason, and gives me leeway to have things a bit more hyperbolic and generally epic. On such a note, before anyone complains that the Dragonborn is overpowered then I must counter that by saying that this the point; he's an epic hero and those guys are hardcore (plus, y'know, propaganda. Bigging him up and all that). I mean seriously, go read Beowulf; that guy's a badas$. So I've got standards to maintain.

Anyway, that's all. Sit back, relax, and enjoy what is, as far as I know (which isn't much), the only piece of epic fan-poetry in existence.

Verily!

The Saga of the Dragonborn
(or; "What happens when Colonel Mustard reads more Beowulf than is good for him")


PART I

Harken ye, one and all, to the tale of the Dragonborn,

drake-bane, horn-helmed hero of prowess unmatchable

saviour of Skyrim and winner of honour unending!

Mighty Talos, bear witness unto me as such deeds are scribed,

thy wisdom and learning lend unto this humble scholar,

that thou might be exalted through texts such as this,

and thy favoured champion's fame grow with each word ascribed

and through such tales, tell of how Skyrim was freed,

how the Black Drake was vanquished, the Thalmor undone,

the traitorous dead put to an end and bid to rise no more.

Instruct me thus, that I might capture thy glories

and through these words, tell of the Dovahkiin

in tale the likes of which hath not been before seen.

In ropes was he brought unto the realm of Skyrim,

mountain-bound, snowclad home of hardy Nordfolk,

borne by cart and colt to the fane of Helgen

for crimes not recorded by scribes of the Empire

alongside Ulfric, Windhelm-Jarl and warrior bold,

battleking true of all Skyrim, sword of the Stormcloaks,

laid low by treachery most foul from craven Imperials.

Too fearful of him were they to face him in battle bold;

lurking in ambush with plot to lay him low,

the Thalmor-slaves struck with stealth and valiant though

the Stormcloaks were, and with courage did they fight,

such cowardice saw them undone; Ulfric brave was bound

to Helgen, to lie 'pon the block of the headsman.

Gagged was he, Imperials fearful of great Stormcloak's might,

the call of the Thu'um, magic ancient and mighty

wielded once by drake and man alike, that he did use

to beat the false boy-king Torygg in a duel most honourable

and now saw him suffer persecution unjust

for standing 'gainst the foul Thalmor that ruled man.

With him was Ralof, doughty bairn of Gerdur and Hod

and brave son of Skyrim, Stormcloak true, valiant defender

of her people and bounds, rightful land of Nords taken

by Elves most foul and treacherous in their ways.

By him did sit Lokir, thief of horses and craven weak,

lacking in courage he did flee his end, like not

the Doom of Alduin, the son of Hod, or Ulfric,

courageous and true lord of Nords that he was.

And betwixt the bairn of Hod and Gerdur and

Lokir thief-of-horses did sit the Dragonborn,

bane of wyrms most foul, saviour of all men,

slayer of Thalmor and draugr, champion favoured

of the Princes of Oblivion and beloved of the Nine.

Belike in stature to the great Eldergleam was he,

unshakeable as the stone roots of the World's Throat,

mightier than the largest of the bjorn; 'tis said that

his size was more belike that of giants than that of men,

that his strength was such that steel did bend in his palm

and the strongest oak was but splinters when broke by him.

The folk of the land did hail this hearty hero wherever

he did go, awed as they were that such a man might walk

amongst mere mortals such as they, strong, just and wise as he was,

belike more to Ysgramor, Talos or Dagon's Ender in aspect

than to mortal menfolk; 'tis said that many did fall faint

when in his presence, struck dumb by so valiant and great

a soul who would walk among them, the great drake-doom

who brought Skyrim to liberty and slew Alduin world-bane.

So it was that these souls worthy and great were bound

for Helgen, to face execution most unjust at hands

of Thalmor-thralls and foul elf-kin, scum most treacherous

and craven in their ways; but fate and valour did see

that in all things the Dragonborn would have triumph

and doing so be nought but the greatest of all man's heroes

just, mighty, and wise, slayer of many and saviour of Nirn;

lo, Talos did take watch over and favour this great soul,

Alduin-doom, mightiest of men and hero true!

This post has been edited by Colonel Mustard: Apr 7 2012, 01:56 PM