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Hey, it's me, Destana. At this point, I'd been living in Skyrim for about four months, and it was right around Saturnalia and the turning of the new year to 2E 202. I turned 19 back in Last Seed (I know, I'm younger than you might think on account of my mad skills). Last time Ulfric Stormcloak sent me to deliver an axe to Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun. I was accompanied by an entourage of Inigo, Vilja, Sofia and Shirley. I'd been to Whiterun previously (even recently, infact to contact Vilja). But when I approached, the gates were closed on account of dragon attacks. "Dragons?" I asked incredulously, "Aren't they extinct? Or like... mythological?" "Sorry, no passage into the gates," the guard returned. "I have an important message from Ulfric Stormcloak for the Jarl. I believe it is a challenge. Or an ultimatum," I raised the axe. "The Jarl will want to hear this," the guard opened the gate. I went straight to the Jarl. "Hold! What makes you think you can interrupt us during an important council meeting?" Jarl Balgruuf said. "I have an urgent message from Ulfric Stormcloak." "I'm sure he told you it was very urgent," Balgruf said, "Save it. We're having a council meeting about the recent dragon attack on Helgen." "I... think Ulfric was there," I said. Balgruf stroked his chin for a moment, studying me, "On second thought, you may be able to help me. Would you do me a favor while you're here? Let's talk to my court wizard." I jogged into the adjoining room. Farengar Secret-Fire nodded to me and said, "What do you need, traveler?" "The Jarl said you needed help with something." "Well I'm very busy, I don't think I do." "Be careful, you're about to step on your own Shock Rune," I joked. Farengar jumped, then he smiled, "I see you're a mage as well. What did you say you needed?" Jarl Balgruuf stepped in behind me now, "Use her for your project." "I see. I have an errand. And by errand I mean a ruin that holds information about the dragons. Bleak Falls Barrow," Farengar replied, "Think you're up for it?" "Easy," I bought a couple spell tomes from him and then turned to the Jarl. "Ulfric wanted me to deliver this axe, by the way," I said. "The man is persistent. I'll give you your answer after you've dealt with this matter," he replied. I sighed, getting on the road to the Barrow. I think I'd been there before, but all these ruins are kinda the same. Nope, not been there. I'm going to stop trying to guess, these ruins all look the same. There were a mix of bandits trying to raid the tomb, but they felt like we were their competition so they had to die after they attacked us. A giant spider, a man wrapped up in webbing with a golden claw. He ran, but the draugr got him and I put him down with my crossbow before he could be ripped apart by the undead. And I claimed the puzzle claw. We continued on past a hallway with blades. I just ran through and activated the pull chain so nobody else had to endanger themselves. We plowed through this time, even more than before. If there was a measure of the level of evil power of a place - this one seemed very low. A couple puzzles, like nord ruins do, and another word wall. This one was, "Fus." Wait wait wait... Fus! I'd heard that word. I stood there, brain firing on all dwemer cylinders for a moment, thinking, 'Fus. That's the thing the draugr keep shouting at us when they blow us back. Are these word rune things some kind of words of power? Wait... Ulfric supposedly shouted the High King to death or something. And I keep seeing these walls and they're reacting to me.' I also picked up a Gem that talked to me, revealing herself as Merida. I slid it into my pack to sell it later. And... the Dragonstone! I brought it back to Farengar. He was speaking with a woman named Delphine. He turned to me, "A cut above the usual brutes the Jarl sends my way. That is where your job ends and mine begins, friend. My friend here is the one who knew where to find it." "How?" "Don't worry yourself about that," she replied, not looking up at me from the Dragonstone. "Farengar! Adventurers!" Irileth, the Jarl's housecarl bustled in, "There are reports of a dragon attack!" "This will be perfect for my research if we can down it!" Farengar smiled. I smiled too. I wanted to see one of these things in action. See if they were really real. Irileth went to the Jarl on the raised area above the mead hall. He was talking with a guard. "My Jarl, I saw a dragon circling over head near the Western Watchtower. I ran for my life. I thought it was going to kill me." "Good work son, dragon hunting is no one-man job. You may have saved Whiterun if we can kill it outside," Balgruuf turned to us, "Friends, Irileth, take some guards and go hunt that dragon. It cannot make it to the city!" I nodded, getting a little excited now. "Oh and if you do this for me I'll let you purchase property within the hold." I blinked. Damn. If I'd known it would be that easy I wouldn't have wasted my time in Riften, though I was much more invested in the Thieves' Guild. I can with my company onto the field near the Western Watchtower. As we passed the stables, Sofia said, "Did I just hear correctly? The Jarl wants you to go fight a dragon? You're not seriously considering it are you?" "Sofia, you can see how fast I'm sprinting, right. I'm what you call an adrenaline junkie. I routinely put myself in deadly situations," I had a big grin on my face. "If you look around here, you will often find butterflies," Vilja said from behind us. "Shor's bones, Vilja. Eyes on the prize!" I shouted back as we neared it. Hmm, no dragon nearby. I poked my head into the tower, which was now half-collapsed and on fire. As I came out, Irileth was just arriving with the men. "Where's this beast?" She asked. I shrugged. The guard who'd spotted it originally shouted, "Oh gods! Here it comes!" I hit amidst the rubble as it glided past. Everyone else was already firing arrows. I pulled out my crossbow and silently trained a bolt at it. I could feel my heart racing. The rush was palpable. After a dozen arrows shooting it, it landed right near me. I shot it in the neck. Vilja jumped on its back and was slashing. I drew my sword and faced the thing directly with shield up. It went down surprisingly fast between the dozen of us. It slumped over, dead, allowing an eerie calm after the rush of terror the dragon brought with it. I stepped up to the dragon to poke at it. Then... something strange happened. I felt a rush of power, not unlike that power at the word walls. The dragon's magic, or spirit, or force drained the flesh from it's bones and surrounded me. I could feel that chanting again just like the word walls. It surrounded me, soaking into my very bones. "WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?" I shouted. The calm returned. I could feel some sort of power within me. When I opened my mouth to ask if anybody knew what just happened, it came out as, "FUS!" A bunch of the guards fell over. "My gods, I'm sorry!" I said, "What did I just do?" "That was a shout!" One of the guards said, "You must be truly dragonborn!" "Dragonwhat?" I asked. "You're dragonborn. You absorbed the dragon's power," another guard said. "Whatborn?" I asked. "You can shout now, you couldn't before right? The only explanation is that you're dragonborn." "...whatwhat?" I asked. "I don't know about any of that. I do know that's a dead dragon. We know we can kill them now. Just... go talk to the Jarl," Irileth said. As I walked through Whiterun with my entourage, I could hear more shouting. I looked up to find no dragons - I'd noticed when the dragon breathed fire he spoke words just like I'd done when I said 'FUS.' "Huh," I shrugged. Must be nothing. I approached the Jarl again. "What happened?" He asked. "The dragon is dead, but so's the watchtower. Something weird happened when I approached it. I absorbed some sort of power from the dragon and now it's just bones," I explained. "So it's true. The greybeards are summoning you." "Who?" I asked. "Masters of the way of the voice. Shouts," he explained. "If you are dragonborn, then you owe it to Skyrim to go talk to them," Hrongar said, a warrior standing off to the side. I stared daggers at Hrongar, "I don't owe Skyrim shit. If anything, it owes me quite a lot. And I imagine that debt is not going to go out of the red anytime soon." "What do the greybeards want with her?" Aventus asked. A woman from his court. "It's for them to know," the Jarl replied, "Even if you don't believe in our legends, you should go see them." I gritted my teeth, "Okay. But the only reason I'm going to see them is because I've seen what these shouts can do. But, hey, the reason I came here. Will you take the damn axe?" After a few moments of discussion, he returned the axe, "Give this to Ulfric. He has my answer." Then he turned to his scribe, "Get me a pen and some parchment. We're going to tell General Tullius what our conditions are for allowing his Legionnaires into this city." I sighed. Well that was bad news. I decided I would take that trek to High Hrothgar before I returned to Windhelm. We slept at the Inn, and I played, not knowing if and when I would be allowed back into the city since I was a Stormcloak. Then we set off. It was a long and grueling climb, and when I reached the front door, the old men were waiting for us. "So the Dragonborn appears," Arngeir said. He seemed to be in charge. "I'm answering a call. I'm not sure about this whole dragonborn business," I folded my arms. "We will test if you truly have the gift," he said back, "Let me taste of your voice." "That is seriously one of the strangest things anyone has ever said to me," I replied, "And I'm not really sure how I did it." I thought about it for a few seconds, then let out a, "FUS!" "Welcome, dragonborn. We will do our best to help you fulfill your destiny." I squinted at him, "Destiny, huh? What's my destiny?" "Whatever you choose." Oh. I'd thought he was going to say it was my destiny to save the world, to slay the dark lord... in accordance with the prophecy or whatever. I shook my head. Those sorts of stories always annoyed me. Anybody with sound mind and a strong back can do anything if they put their mind to it. "We will teach you the second word of Unrelenting Force - Ro," Arngeir said. Another greybeard spoke the word and the burning runes appeared on the floor. As with the word walls, the knowledge streamed into me. "Normally years of practice allows someone to use shouts. As a dragonborn, you can absorb a dragon's knowledge and power directly and fuel your shouts. It took you moments to master what it took many a lifetime," Arngeir said. "Now, demonstrate your Thu'um," he continued. "FUS -- RO!" I shouted. It blew Vilja and Sofia off their feet. I said, "Seriously guys, you should probably stay out of my way while I'm doing this." Arngeir and the others walked towards the courtyard and I followed. Sofia mused, "I can't imagine being a greybeard. Having to sit in silence all day. I couldn't do it." "Clearly," I said, telling the others to stand back while we do this shouting business in the courtyard. "I will teach you a new shout," Arngeir said, and another of the greybeards repeated the process. This was 'WULD,' the Whirlwind Sprint. The greybeard who'd gifted me the shout then said, "WULD!" And ran through a gate almost faster than my eyes could see. "Now you," Arngeir said. I raised an eyebrow. I turned toward the gate and it opened again. "WULD," I said, passing through the gate harmlessly. This one would be useful for trapped hallways. "What's next?" I smirked. "Next you must recover the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller," Arngeir replied. "Ah, here we go," I smiled, tired from the last couple days of song-and-dance Balgruuf and now these guys were putting me through. "I'll go get the horn..." "Thank you, dragonborn," Arngeir said. "....eventually. When I get around to it," I explained, "Thanks for clarifying for me what all the word walls are about. I've already found several. Thanks for the new powers. I'll take that, but you can keep the destiny. I may or may not be a dragonborn or whatever. But I choose what my destiny is. Me. There's been a lot of talk of what I owe Nirn or Skyrim, or whatever. But the world is pretty much shit. I wouldn't give a shit if it gets burned to the ground. So I'm going to go back to Ulfric Stormcloak and let him know his civil war is on. And when and if I decide to come back here, its going to be because I want to. Are we clear?" I could see the looks of distain on their face, but I didn't care. "C'mon guys," I said. As we were walking out of there, Inigo said, "That seemed a little harsh." "Yeah," I said, "Probably. I'm tired of being forced to do things I don't want to do. I have priorities. Me and mine." And we traveled back to Windhelm. I put the axe on the table. Ulfric shook his head, and Galmar smiled. "We're going to hit them where it hurts," Galmar said. "Make preparations. I want you there on the battlefield, Destana, on the front lines," Ulfric said, and I nodded. That obstinate pig-headed Jarl would get what was coming to him. We went back to Whiterun. While we mustered up, I got wise and stripped off my Nightingale armor as Galmar talked, putting on robes and a circlet of destruction I'd picked up from the college. I readied Elemental Bolt on my offhand and drew my sword. I casted Rally and charged with the Stormcloaks as we stormed the gates. This time, I blew down the barricades and archers with explosive magic. When we finally reached the hold, the Jarl fought a good fight but surrendered before he and Irileth were killed. It was hard to fight someone who'd I'd fought beside only days before. And there were many deaths. I silently pledged to study restoration to see if there was a spell that would bring the recently dead back to life. "You would fight the Empire?" Balgruuf asked, "Now I know why the Greymanes weren't on the wall today." "We are the blood of the empire, and if it were ours, we would be able to worship whoever we damn well please," Vignar Greymane responded, "We should be fighting the elves, not bending knee to them." "Yeah, screw the Thalmor. They destroyed Hammerfell too!" I shouted. "Tell me, how many of those dead men out there once called you friend?" Balgruuf shouted. "Enough! All of you!" Galmar shouted, "There is a burning city out there that needs a government." Vignar took control as Jarl. It pains me, because Balgruuf was one of the good ones. I returned to Windhelm to report. That was the start of our war. I'm going to skim over a little bit. The next nine months gets a little tedious. The things to know are: - The Stormcloaks had the Jagged Crown and the Civil War was just beginning. I became instrumental in this conflict. At first, I was a shock trooper, bringing an eclectic cadre of sellswords to the mix to bolster the Stormcloaks' troops. Then I stood shoulder to shoulder with Galmar in deployment of troops when they realized just how valuable I was. These attacks were seldom - once every few weeks. Usually they were Imperial forts, usually near a hold. And for some reason, no reinforcements ever came from down south. Was the Empire really spread that thin? - After I took a hold with the Stormcloaks, I would play the Inn as a bard, and stay in the Inn before returning to Riften. But see the next bullet - - A few weeks back I took down Mercer Frey (with a little help from a few friends). As I was traveling around with my group, I was doing oddjobs for Vex and Delvin (which I would talk to them until they gave me the *right* jobs, winning us contacts in every major city. When my group would retire to the Inn after a raid, I would stay up and rob the place blind, returning to the guild the spoils after I took a cut of the plunder for my group. - In the morning after each raid I served as the go-between for the men and Ulfric, bringing him news of our victories. I often visited him after hours, and often shared his bed with him. I mean, I was pregnant and in control of my body. Why not? - Despite the College of Winterhold dealing with the Orb problem, they started up regular classes again. I would attend them between the raids - I was trying to master at least some magic. Besides just being cool and generally good for grouping, I thought about what could be GREAT if I ever went to prison again. If I'm stripped of all weapons and armor, well, I can still melt faces with Destruction. I can still bend minds with Illusion (or straight-up go invisible and walk out). I can pick locks without a lockpick with Alternation. I can summon meat shields or summon my own weapons with Conjuration. Infinite possibilities. - Dragons were returning to Skyrim. One bit of 'public service' I deigned to perform, if I was truly dragonborn, was to defend holds as they were attacked by dragons. During this few months I must've killed a dozen dragons (again, with help from my group), and they were getting worse. Most of them led to a dragon kill orgy. I mostly kept to interacting with my group, and each hold's guards usually had a dogpile with each other and the warriors involved. I think we might've started to get a reputation. - Last but certainly not least, I was pregnant with Sanguine's (the daedric lord of debauchery and now my husband) baby. Now a thane of Riften (probably because of all the 'public service' I did), I was spending all my off time with Sanguine and Iona in Honeyside while I continued to get bigger. You might say I was a very busy woman during this period. The nine months of my pregnancy rolled by in a hurry and my baby boy was born just a few days before my 20th birthday. Given the circumstances, I named him Damien. I wasn't sure if he was going to come out red and spiny or looking relatively human. But he was brown, with brown eyes and my near-white eyes. I wasn't sure what to think of this - or if he would manifest demonic powers later, but he was beautiful and perfect. I will let you know now - over the next few years his skin lightened to very pale, along with his hair. He looked Nordic, though he still had my eyes. One last note: on a dare, I got my first (semi-)consensual tattoo. I was drunk, the men and I were at an Inn after a raid, and somebody... I think it might have been Rolof bet me he could drink more than me. In this case, he won. And surprisingly, he didn't demand I have sex with him or something else. He told me I was a true Nord in spirit, having almost bested a Stormcloak warrior and I had to get something to commemorate. I got two axes across my stomach. The boys approved. "What are those tally marks?" One of them asked. "Don't ask. I don't want to talk about it. And yes, it is permanent, just like these," I said, pointing to the axes. They were better than most the Nords out there. Things like this made me want to stay with the Stormcloaks and see this through. This was near the end of the Civil War. Ulfric and Galmar and the men were gearing up for the Empire's final bastion: Solitude. With a grin, I volunteered to head the charge. Because, godsdamn I hate Solitude.