Two weeks ago, I brought you the first installment of what may have been the most epic one-shot convention game, ever. This week, I continue the tale of the “Skyrim Six,” the name I’ve given to the dysfunctional band of dragon brothers I and my fellow gamers brought to life, undoubtedly to both the chagrin and entertainment of our extremely patient GM, Kimi (aka @LadyAdeena). If you haven’t already, go check out Part I, then prepare for the next level of epic dragon shenanigans after the jump!
Where the Ladies At? – ACT II
After making short work of the inept and tasty “Mudcrab Knights,” we six brothers – Fendufyn, Qorohgol, Haslovaas, Strunduving, Yolvolun, and Lizinjot (me) – took to the air, maws still full of barbecued knight and raw horse meat. However, Strunduving first had to be rounded up, as he had deemed it great sport to nip at the heels of the one surviving knight as he fled down the mountainside in terror… Think on that visual for a moment… This terrified knight, fleeing down a mountain, pursued by a giant dragon like a dog chases a ball… Can you say Viking PTSD?
Anyway, we circled high into the air to begin out flight toward The Throat of The World, making sure to dive bomb and buzz the village at the base of our mountain abode. It was our way of thanking the good citizens for the offerings of food and livestock they had kept so accessible in their fields and giant wooden lunch boxes (they called them barns) all these years as we grew into the upstanding examples of Dragonhood that we were.
It wasn’t long before we reached the base of the mountain sure to hold the answers of where our parents were, and what exactly was that tingling sensation we all get getting in our scales from time to time… But first, we made a pit-stop in the small logging village of Ivarstead, much to the horror of the villagers!
Granted, out stop in Ivarstead was brief, but highly memorable, mostly due to Haslovaas’ nifty trick of landing in the middle of town, turning ethereal, then popping back into corporeal form only long enough to swallow villagers whole. I’m pretty sure he ate the butcher, the blacksmith, and the baker’s son before the city guards could even react. Meanwhile, Qorohgol and Strunduving continued their game of “Dragon Tag,” Yolvolon incinerated the town’s saw-mill (just because), and I, Lizinjot, circled the perimeter of town and proceeded to blast the nearest trees with my icy breath, flash-freezing them as punishment for their tree-cousin’s treachery in revealing me to the Mudcrab Knights. All the while, Fendufyn, attempted to wrangle us together and get moving up the mountain. After some harsh words, and increasing number of arrows whizzing through the air, and the reminder that there definitely had to be girls at the top of the Throat of The World we proceeded onward, leaving Ivarstead with a legendary “WTF!!” moment for the village’s lore.
The Greybeards of High Hrogarth
We circled our way up the mountain, fighting the thinning air, blowing winds, and our own ADHD. We finally reached the summit, and before us was a structure unlike any we had seen before. The ancient temple of High Hrogarth stood before us, all stone and snow and definitely lacking dragons. Within the walls was a large courtyard, ringed by large pillar-like stones, each carved with runes in the Dragon tongue. I immediately took this as a sign that Mom and Dad had been here (remember, abandonment issues) and latched on to one of the stones, venting my sadness and frustrations at the stone, looking for answers (which prompted Kimi, our GM, to respond “It’s a rock, it doesn’t do anything.”)
While I sulked in a snowy, lonely corner of the courtyard, Haslovaas and Fendufyn, sensed a presence within the main building on the temple grounds. Fendufyn begin peering through the windows of the building while Haslovaas promptly hopped atop the structure, turned ethereal, and dropped into the building proper – much to the horror and awe of the Greybeards meditating inside. In the courtyard proper, Qorohgol finally, grabbed hold of the lighting-quick Strunduving and proceeded to put him int a headlock and provide him with “Dragon Noogies.” Yolvolon, being the solitary and contemplative brother, perched on high, keeping a wary eye to the mountain path and undoubtedly wondering if there was a chance he was adopted.
While the majority of the dragon brethren did what they do best (which is to say they acted like complete morons), Haslovaas opened a dialogue with the Greybeards regarding the books and the attack on the cave we called home. Seeing as I had gone full-blown Emo over the carved rock, and given the ruckus of Qorohgol and Strunduving’s wrestling, the gist of the conversation was as such:
- These guys had never seen dragons, but devoted their lives to worshiping them – ipso facto, Us!
- Some group called the Blades (aka Jerk-faces) had been running around killing Dragons for centuries.
- They didn’t know where Mom and Dad were.
- They didn’t know where the Girl Dragons were.
The leader of the Greybeards (we’ll call him Santa) asked to speak with the rest of the brethren, upon assurance that he would not be eaten. Haslovaas agreed to terms, Fendufyn slapped us all around to pay attention, and Santa began telling us of the danger we faced from the Blades and human’s possessed with the power to speak the Dragon tongue to devastating. This claim was doubted by all, particularly Qorohghol, the most powerful of the Skyrim Six.
After Santa demonstrated the reality of the power by blasting my surrogate-parent stone across the courtyard did we all realize that we were in some pretty deep trouble. We hatched a plan do go and find these Jerk-face Blades and show them what was what. If they hunted dragons, they could tell us where the Girl Dragons where, as well as mom and dad. With a blessing and an undoubted sigh of relief, Santa saw us on our way as we headed West on our continued journey to find love in all the wrong places.
As we flew off, the players around the table came to the conclusion that the Greybeards had met not just one, but SIX great dragons whom they revered as Gods. The problem however, was that they had met their Gods, and their Gods were a bunch of jackasses that eat townspeople for fun… I’m guessing there wasn’t enough regret in all of Skyrim to match that of the Greybeards and there vows of celibacy and silence. I’m guessing they tapped those kegs of Alto Wine and cut loose from that point on… until we come back…
Check out the conclusion to the epic tale of the Skyrim Six, “Are You My Daddy?” here!