Harold The NPC – Chapter 2 – Harold is a Dragonborn?

                With every foot step he took he groaned.  The simple leather boots he wore, and had owned for as long as he had been with Martha, were not cut out for long paths.  But still, he was determined to see the Jarl in Whiterun.  Jarl Balgruuf had promised when he had taken the position that any of his people could always come to him with issues.  Could always plead their case if there was a wrong that needed righting.

                On his high horse of righteousness, Harold continued forward, one aching footstep after the other.  As he looked down for a brief moment, he noticed the laces on his leather boots had come undone.  Sighing he unshouldered his pack and bent down, making sure he tied the laces extra tight.

                While he tied the laces, he missed the shadow that flew above him, missed the way the sunlight was blocked out for a moment.  Missed the way heavy wings flapped to keep a body high up in the sky.  He simply saw a shadow as he righted himself, putting his hand above his eyes to try and see what had happened.

                Shrugging his shoulders he continued on.  One step turned into two, two steps turned into three, and three steps turned into a startled yelp as he heard the heavy clack of armor running at him, soldiers brandishing blades and bows running at rapid paces, screaming terrifying battle cries.

                His pack flew to the ground even as his aching feet stirred and raced to the nearby watchtower, prepared to hide inside of it until the guards were away.

                When he was tucked safely inside, when only his nose and worried eyes could peek out of an uncovered window, did Harold attempt to look up again.

                Above the still screaming soldiers flew the largest bird Harold had ever screen.  It screeched loudly, its wings flapping wildly, and then it dove.  The closer to the ground it got, the bigger it got, until a monster the size of the inn in Riverwood stood before them.  Its eyes were black, its wingspan large enough that a quick flap sent any loose scraps of grass flying.  When it opened its mouth again, it wasn’t to screech, but to instead breath fire hotter than Harold had ever felt before.

                Even behind a stone wall his eyes brows felt singed.

                Then, he saw him.  It was the Lizard in purple nightmare amour, brandishing a sword glowing with an eerie green flame.  He stood right in front of the flames being blown, and for a second Harold saw something above his head, a small red bar that rapidly depleted.

                It was almost gone when the world seemed to freeze around him.  The Lizard rooted around in his pocket for a long moment, the monster’s flames surrounding him frozen in times, and then he upheld a potato.  Without hesitation he shoved it in his mouth and the red bar above him increased.  And then there was another potato, a cheese wheel, a sweet roll, food item after food item crammed into their face until the red bar was once again full.

                The lizard sighed, and suddenly the chaos surrounding him resumed, the monsters fire started to deplete the red bar once again.

                The lizard however paid no attention, merely slashed his sword quickly across its face.  The monster let out one final screech, and then, it thundered to the ground, wings curling around it in death.

                As the Lizard went to sheath their weapon, Harold saw it.  His mothers pearl necklace hanging out of the Lizards pouch, glinting enticingly in the sunlight.  Unable to contain his anger, still feeling the wooden bucket placed atop his head, Harold snapped, storming from his hiding spot.

                “You!”  he screeched it, his voice much the same as the monsters that had been slain.  Harold stormed forward, ignoring the victory shouts of soldiers, ignoring the danger of walking forward.

                He ripped the pearl necklace from the Lizards pouch, and thrust his Great, Great, Great grandfathers sword forward, puncturing through the nightmare armor with ease.  “DO NOT COME INTO MY HOME AGAIN!” He commanded, as the Lizard fell to its knees.

                Harold turned to walk away, thrilled with the pearl necklace he had retrieved, only to come face to face with a rapidly decomposing corpse.  “The DRAGON!”  A guard screamed loudly in Harold’s ear.  But he couldn’t summon the rage.  All he could feel was the horror coursing through him at the magical waves of the dragon before him.  The grey matter swirling around it as nothing but bones were left behind.

                And then, a golden glow seemed to swarm towards him, moving so swiftly there was no chance to run.  The words “A dragon soul has been absorbed” swam in the edges of his vision, even as a shout of nonsense words depicted through the air.


                The words were white, right in front of his eyes.  Report back?  How could he report back when he had never been there?  The guards around him stared with terrified eyes.

                “Are you the Dragonborn?”  one asked suddenly.

                 Unsure of how to answer, and still clutching the pearl necklace in his hand, Harold turned abruptly and set off towards Whiterun.

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