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The Ballad of Dromik Horn-Blower, Chapter 1

Started by spartan1314
Post #16415

Likes Given: 5
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Faction & Race:
Ebonheart Pact (Nord)
They attacked came at sunrise. Bandits all, thirty men used the bright morning sun to approach close to the camp. The watchmen, drowsy from a night watch, did not notice the men as they approached the camp. The bandits crept ever closer, with the weary watchmen in their sights. They stopped as one of the watchmen stood and stretched, looking around. They were only twenty feet from the first tent when the watchman saw them. A panicked look came over his face and he reached for his horn. A bandit drew back his bow and fired at the watchmen. The first arrow missed, allowing the man to start to blow his horn, but the second caught him in throat, drowning the call in soggy blood. The men in the camp scrambled to their feet and scrambled to find weapons laid down the night before. The two watchmen still alive drew back bows, and tried to shoot the bandits hidden among the tree near the camp, but arrows were already flying towards them. One was struck in the chest, steel arrowhead puncturing his leather armor and rib cage, killing him instantly. The other was hit beneath the bottom of his thigh, wounding him severely. By this time, the men in the camp stood in a circle, ten of them against the twenty bandits. The bandits quickly circled around them all, leaving no way for any of the warriors to escape. One of the bandits, a Redguard, stepped forward, followed by a Nord and a High Elf. The Redguard wore steel armor, and a shiny steel sword, fairly new, hung from his sword belt. He wore no armor on his head, but a wooden shield reinforced with a steel sat on his left arm. He called out in a rich, deep voice.
"Good morning, my friendly warriors of Skyrim! A very fine sunrise of this Middas day! I am the leader of this band of...ah....miscreants. I be known as Sharfur Bearkiller! Which of you leads this group trespassing in our forest?"
One of the men in the group stepped forward slightly, keeping his shield raise at chest level, and called back " I lead this group of mercenaries in battle. I am known as Dromik Horn-blower. I am the carrier of Ysgramor's war horn."
Several of the bandits jumped, and looked closer at the man who had stepped forward. A Nord, tall, with dark brown hair pulled back in a war braid reaching to the middle of his back. Clean shaven, with a sharp face and piercing blue eyes. He wore expensive armor, Ebony, and it shine as black as night. In his hand he held a steel sword, clean and sharp. True to his word, a war horn hung at his belt, crafted in the design of Ysgramor's time. Legend said that if the possessor of this horn blew it fateful call, his enemy's would scatter like the wind, and his allies would flock to it's noble call.
Sharfur looked at this warrior with new interest, and a greedy gleam lept into his eye.
"I believe I can forgive your trespassing if you...ah....hand over that horn."
Dromik raised his sword to an attack position. "These men and women behind me would rather die then let this horn fall into the hands of someone who is not a descendant of Ysgramor, or one who is not worthy. " He looked around at the men encircling his group. "Brigands like yourselves are the farthest from worthy."
Sharfur grinned. "One way or another, I will have that horn. I should think you would rethink your position....My twenty men.....with your only ten. I think we all know who the victor is in this fight."
"Then come get it." Dromik replied, as he moved back into the shield wall his comrades had created.
Sharfur drew his sword. "I have heard that the Nords blood is ice. It seem I have plenty of bodies to prove this." He lowered his sword and pointed at the circle of warriors. He gave a simple command. "Kill them all. Save the horn."
The bandits drew their weapons and charged as one group. Three immeadiatley charged Dromik, two Argonians and a Orc. He charged forward and smashed his shield into the Orc, knocking him backwards. One of the Argonians swung his mace at him, and he met the mace with his sword, sliding the blade and catching the edge of the mace on his hilt. He smashed the Argonian in the face with his shield, crushing his skull. The second Argonian swung a war-hammer in an overhead smash. Dromik blocked by putting his shield over his head. It blocked most of the blow, but shattered his shield. With the war-hammer still in the air, Dromik lunged forward and put his sword through the Argonians stomach. The Orc had gotten up, and with two swords attacked Dromik. The Orc swung one sword in an overhand swing and brought the other in a left-handed slice. He blocked the slice with a tilt of his shield and the overhand with his lifted sword. They struggled to gain the upper hand on each other. After a minute of this Dromik headbutted the Orc with his helmet. The Orc fell to his knees, stunned. Dromik placed the tip of his sword over the Orc's heart.
"I hope Orc's have something like Sovangarde."
"To die in battle is the only reward we need." grunted the Orc.
Dromik nodded and and pushed his sword with all his might. The Orc grunted once, and then was silent. Dromik turned to see how his warriors were faring. They had the battle under control, with twelve of the bandits already dead, and none of them. He moved to join the battle. But as he took his first step, he felt something pierce his thigh and pain quickly spread through his leg. He fell to one knee. He felt another pierce his sword arm, making it useless. He fell onto his back, staring at the sky. Sharfur, who had not entered the battle, stood above him.
"This would all have been so much easier had you given me the horn. Now you will know the pain of death, Nord."
"I do not fear death," Dromik whispered through his pain.
"The go to....wherever you Nords go when you die...and know this. You failed in protecting you precious horn."
Rage welled up inside Dromik at the arrogance of this man. He swung his shield at his knee, hoping to knock him over. Sharfur lightly jumped back, then stepped on the shield and pinned it to the ground. He raised his sword, and plunged it into Dromik's heart. Before he died, he heard the scream of one of the women in his group, the one known as Annatha.
"Dromik! NOO!"
Then everything went black.
After a time, Dromik realize he wasn't dead. Or maybe he was. His eyes were closed. He felt himself laying on warm grass. He opened his eyes, facing the sky. Above him a vortex of colors spun in the sky, red, purple, blue. beyond the color, stars shimmered in the blackness. He stood. He was on a hill, surrounded by mountains on his sides and behind. In front, a path lead down the hill into a valley. It wandered through the valley, until it met a bridge made out of the bones of a giant, fish-like creature. Beyond the bridge, lay the largest hall he had ever seen. He knew at once where he lay.
"Sovangarde..."he said in awe.
"That is right, mortal. You are now in the final home of Nord heroes." said a voice.
Dromik looked down the path. Coming up the hill was the largest man he had ever seen. He had to be over seven feet tall. He was extremely well muscled, and a large war-hammer hung on his back. He worn only a leather kilt for armor.
"I am Tsun," he said. "Guardian of the Whale-Bone bridge, tester of the men and women of the Sovangarde's mead hall. But i am afraid I can not grant you access just yet, Dromik Horn-Blower. For Shor has a quest for you, and it must be completed the realm called Nirn, from whence you came. Are you prepared to be the messenger of the gods?"

The End of The Ballad of Dromik, Chapter 1

Dromik- Large, muscular Nord, greatsword fighter, part-time mercenary.
Guinevere Löthbrok- Smaller Nord with a fast axe, sharp tongue and merciless nature.
Fälondreth- Quiet, quick Bosmer bowman, nomad, nature-lover.
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