Path to the Shehai: A Sword Singer's Tale Prologue

  • Well everyone, alongside playing through Teccam's awesome Sword-Singer, I wanted to chronicle the adventures of my character, Altair Hawker. I hope you enjoy this prologue. 


    A warm wind blew over the cliff's rocky body. At the edge, a long figure stood, arms crossed. His scaled tunic, a red cloth draped around it rustled in the breeze, his buckled leather boots crunched against the gravel laying the cliff. His red tinted hood was pulled down, revealing his short black hair. His thin beard brushed against his copper skin. The lone Redguard, as the rest of Tamriel called his brethren who had fled to the land known as Hammerfell generations ago, took a breath. His name was Altair Hawker. 

    Taking one last look at the rising sun, he turned away, and started his walk back to his camp. "Tomorrow, my walk-about shall begin." He muttered to himself. He was from a long line of Yokudans which had survived the sundering of their homeland ages ago, closer to the ways of Tall Papa than the Crowns could ever be. He was to venture to Tamriel to begin his Walkabout, the tradition started by the legendary Frandar Hunding, Sword-Singer of Legend, wherein Yokudans would venture across the land, slaying monsters as he had done, doing noble deeds, and at the end, forming the fearsome spirit-blade, Shehai. Eating a quick meal of horse milk, toasted bread, wild berries, and strips of Guar meat, the sword-singer to be laid down on his mat, and fell asleep to the sound of the ocean's mighty currents splashing against the shore. 

    The cock's call awakened the young swordsman. Twenty-two years of age, and he had already slain his fair share of beasts. Relieving himself in a nearby bush, Finished, he sat down and unsheathed his blade. The steel was thin and quick, of Akaviri make. It was his family's ancestral sword, wielded by Sai Sahan, Grandmaster of the Blades, one of the Five Companions, and head of the security for Emperor Varen Aquilarious in his early years. With one hand he sharpened the ancient, spell-forged blade with a refined piece of ebony, and with the other he ate his small meal of roots, meat, and water. Once his stomach was full, and his blade sharpened, the Sword-Singer packed up his meager belongings, including some Septims he had gotten through trade, and placed them in his small boat. 

    With a prayer to Tava for a voyage, Altair said one final goodbye to his home, as his boast started its course for Tamriel, specifically Skyrim, where he had heard rumors of a Civil War and of dragons.

    His quest for his Shehai had begun.....