OC Poems/Descriptions

Thankful

Category: Short Story

Character: Ace the Argonian

Fandom: Skyrim: Dragonborn

It made sense, Ace was an Argonian, a reptilian species, of course, there was a chance he'd be Dragonborn. Of course, since he was an Argonian other would be prejudice, but not as much as if he were a Kajit. To Ace, things made sense pretty easily if he thought about it a bit with an open mind.

What didn't make sense is how he didn't remember anything about himself before he woke up in the wagon that was carrying him, the Stormcloacks, and that thief to Helgen.

He contemplated this as he walked around the remains of Helgen collecting whatever he could and maybe to see if there was anyone left. Who was my mother? What was my favorite color? Did I have any friends? His thoughts were calm, a little more quickly than usual, but his mind was always thinking of something anyway so he never minded it.

"Cicero thinks we should go back to the guild. Night Mother won't be pleased if we take to long." The jester said in his high pitched voice. Ace nodded and they made their long journey back to Dawnstar.

Ace understood the benefits of wearing the outfit of the Dark Brotherhood. He did, just as he understood the benefits of being a cannibal, werewolf, soon-to-be lead mage at the Winterhold College for mages, leader of the Thieves Guild, and somehow earning the approval and almost half of the Dadrea's artifacts and almost approval. He found the fact that he was one of the most dangerous beings, along with being Dragonborn, and yet he was seen as such a kind and great friend of the people by others.

Not one person questioned him on where he was from, who he supported in the war, nor did they bother to think on how, or why, he was crossing the border.

He didn't know himself, but he figured that maybe he'd get answers if he defeated Alduin. He was so close, just a few more shouts and he'll have defeated the world eater... Well, for the moment at least.

Sighing Ace looked over towards the great giant not too far from him. He knew there was no need to kill it, and it'd only waste arrows, but he moved towards it anyway. He didn't draw his weapon, but he did get close to the giant. Oddly enough it didn't attack him and he just walked right past it, as if it were a horse.

Is there a force beyond the Deadra and Gods and Goddesses that could be influencing my decisions and withholding my knowledge of my past? He questioned to himself. He supposed it was a large possibility, but he chose not to delve too deep into that thought, though he still kept it in the back of his mind.

He walked, and walked, and walked until he came upon Darkwater Crossing. He heard the people needed help as some needed medicine and a friend had gone missing. He got them the medicine they needed and brought back their friend. Normally he'd be content with just that, but he knew there were a few more things he'd need to do for Skyrim and her people.

He sighed once more before going on to find another small thing he could do to help the people. And so on and on that went, he became the champion of the people, stopped a war without siding, defeated the world eater, and yet he knew he had one last quest in mind.

Leave the game. After so long of not truly dying, but seeing how others he's come to care for having died, even his dogs Vigilant and a stray dog whose owner had died, he knew what he was. He wasn't real, and yet the player strives to help him be his truest self.

And for that he was thankful.