"Forward! Forward!!!" our Chieftain cried, standing at the Dragon-ships mast. His name was Harrold Stone-smasher, as tall as a horse and with arms the size of boulders, with a gut to match after a life time of roasted mutton and mead, of course. But Harrold was loved by his crew dearly. Under Harrold Stone-smasher, you came back from your expeditions alive, with enough gold to keep your wife and kids fed on a pretty piece of land too. Harrold recently had got his great paws on a map to a place called "Tamriel", a continent said to have all manner of things on it, including lizard and cat people, elves, trolls and there have even been rumours of dragons living there.
But of course, it wasn't the cat people, nor the lizard people, not the trolls or dragons old Stone-smasher had his big old heart set on, oh no. It was gold, battle, honour and perhaps even a trip to Valhalla. Which, unbeknownst to myself, Herrfing Sea-bear, was exactly what the Norns had in store for us, and more, of course. "Ha, ha! That's it boys! Put your backs in it and row like Hell! The glory of being the first men to settle this new found continent is ours! Gold and battle awaits us! Let us not keep the Valkyries waiting! Ha, ha!" Stone-smasher cried out, brandishing one of his axes at the sky.
"Give the boys a break Stone-smasher" I said examining the map. "We're close and they could use a rest" I added. "Very well" Stone-smasher said. "It's a'ight boys, gold, wenches, mead and glory can wait!" he yelled out, then looking at me with a cheeky grin. I shook my head "this is the coastline of an area called "Skyrim" apparently very similar to home" I told Stone-smasher. He sighed deeply and said "I didn't come all this way to see a second version of Norway!". I chuckled at his sudden wanderlust "oh come now, I'm sure there'll be plenty there for us to see, new things of course not just ice and iron, but since when did you care about the geography of a place? I thought your only cares when it came to exploring were gold, sex, mead and food?" I said, gently punching him on his enormous arm, built up through years of swinging axes, rowing boats and tossing women over his shoulder.
"Oh Sea-bear my old friend, I do enjoy seeing new things, things other than wooden homes and snow, I long for the wonders this world has to offer, I grow old, and I fear I may never see all of Europa and beyond. I wasted my youth in the same old places, fighting, eating, drinking.... but when I found out about Tamriel, I felt it call to me, I have to see some place extraordinary and different. Before Oden calls me to his Golden halls." this was a side of Stone-smasher I'd never seen. "But don't tell any of the other boys about our conversation, I may be old, but I can't have them thinking I'm soft" he added. "Ha! Of course not old friend." I replied.
But before I get too much into it the story, allow me to introduce the other members of our crew.
First there was Homnur Braveheart. Rightfully named, the man had literally no fear of anything, they say he has never once been even remotely frightened in his life, he is a very calm fellow, but he has real fire in him when needed.
Brovir The short, a Dwarf man, no higher than a normal persons waist, but incredibly muscular and strong for his size. He is a good warrior and is a great man, he is not one for acting up to compensate for his size, nor do the taunts seem to bother him.
Then there was Sigvar Hammer hand. Apt name for a professional black smith, forged every piece of weaponry and armour on this old ship. A dark haired, tall, handsome fellow, muscular and without a piece of fat on his body, sporting the looks of a man decades below his real age, he is an absolute kill with the women.
Throrgran Moon-born. A very hairy man to say the least. So hairy people back home believe he is a werewolf. Growing up with this stigma attached to him has made him a rather cold man, who has grown a hard heart on account of his ostracising. The man is a real fighter, bursting with rage, perhaps one day he would have been second in command to Stone-smasher rather than myself...
After him was a fellow who went by the name "Raven". Not even he himself knew his birth name, being a child of the wilds, he was the most capable hunter perhaps in all the world, no beast was too big, too fast, too anything for him, having grown up in the wilds of Norway, he was at home in the forests. He had a single eye which had a pitch black iris and a long gaze.
And finally there was Jorn Hestenberg. Jorn was the most recent addition to out crew, he's a good man and a capable fighter, being only 20 years old, he is yet to earn himself a title and so we still call him by his last name. He has been trying to get us to call him all manner of fanciful names, "Jorn Bone breaker", "Jorn the fierce" and my personal favourite "Jorn the Bear man". But his birth name has stuck. I do fear Jorn's untimely death on the battlefield. His Mother is a raging bull of a woman and I don't think even Stone-Smasher in his prime could stand up to her!
We had soon landed on a shore, Skyrim was definitely very similar to Norway, the mountains covered in snow, fields of ice covering green pastures, the cold nip in your air that was so sharp as you breathed it into your lungs. We set up our camp for the night, drinking the last of our mead and eating the last of our food before we headed off in search of more in the morning. That night we sang songs around the fire, and we revelled in our glory as the first travellers to brave the seas out here and reach this place, it seemed as though Jorgumand didn't swallow out ship like the others back in the village warned would happen if we came out this far!.
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im interested to hear more.