The Dovahkiin Of Fairy Tail

Looking for Adventure

Tamriel, Province of Skyrim

In the land of Skyrim there is a man unlike any other. He was a man of great renown, a legend only spoken of in whispers. He is The Harbinger, The Listener, the Archmage, Guildmaster, The Nightingale. He is the Dragonborn. And he was kind of bored. He had all the factions in his hand, no enemies worthy of fighting, having saved the world countless times. He needed something dangerous, something exciting to do.

The Dragonborn was sitting in Proudspire Manor, his most luxurious home, thinking about what he wanted to do. All of Skyrim knew him, and either feared him, loved him, or adored him. He decided to take a walk around Solitude, and try to see what he could do.

He came upon the docks when he had an idea.

"I'll head to new places!" the Dragonborn thought. "I can make new friends, and fight new creatures!"

The Dragonborn returned to his manor. He kept everything he needed there, and needed time to pack instead of traveling from Hold to Hold gathering what he needed. He settled for a plain set of steel plate armor, with the Nightingale armor for when he needed to blend in with his surroundings. Weaponwise, he grabbed all the enchanted weapons that he had, and put a scabbard for an Ancient Hero Sword that he named Dovahbane through the belt, and slung the Shield of Ysgramor across his back. He packed plenty of gold, along with multiple potions and poisons.  Afterwards, he sold all of his houses, gaining even more gold for the journey. He went down to the docks and talked to some of the ship captains there, asking if they needed another hand on board. Many refused him. Until an old man came up to him.

"Looking to sail, lad?" the man asked.
"Yes, sir. I am." the Dragonborn replied.
"Where do you want to go?"
"Anywhere but here."
"Why is that?"
The Dragonborn hesitated. He knew this question would come up, yet he did not have an answer for it.

"For adventure. This land has gotten dull. I'm ready to se other lands that might challenge my skills." the Dragonborn replied. The man's eyes narrowed.

"What is your name, lad?" he asked. The Dragonborn hesitated again. It had been so long since he had to give his name, that he forgotten what his own name was.

"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue? Spit it out lad, or you can't sail." the man said, impatient.

"Akatosh." said a voice in the back of the Dragonborn's mind. "You were named Akatosh after the father of the dragons by your parents who saw in you a raging inferno of potential."

"Akatosh. My name is Akatosh." said the Dragonborn. The old man's brow furrowed.
"Akatosh? That's an odd coincidence to be named after the head of the Nine Divine." replied the man. "But it doesn't matter. You gave me your name, and you wanted to sail. We leave at the crack of dawn tomorrow. If you have family or loved ones, better say farewell."
"I'm ready now, sir." the Dragonborn impatiently said.
"Alright, then. Let us be off. Our cargo is a shipment of crystals that the group we're recieving calls Lacrima." the old man started for his ship, a small boat with only one mast, and many planks that are in different directions than the original woodworking.
"She's not pretty, but the Sun's Champion is a fast one, probably faster than the rest of these ships put together."
"Um, sir? You never told me your name." the Dragonborn qusestioned.
"My name isn't important. Raise the anchor! We have to make wake before the sun gets any lower or we're stuck here!" The old man ordered.