Harald had just arrived in Falkreath and was still angry about Lydia.

What a wench!

The last time he saw her was outside Windhelm. He was too lazy to walk the long way around the bridge and head east, so he dived into the icecold water off the bridge to take a shortcut. He could understand if Lydia didn't have the balls (heh) to do the same, but he at least expected her to catch up with him later on. Which she didn't. It made him wonder if it was her plan all along. He entrusted her with all his fancy loot, and was carrying ALL the resources he gathered. It stank of betrayal. To make matters worse he really could've done with her support against a bloody Snow Bear on his way to Falkreath... He was really wondering why people called him Dragonborn, if he was hardly strong enough to take out a bloody Bear on the way to a stinking sh1thole like Falkreath. But there you go.

Harald had been to Falkreath before, and the guard, upon entering the village, had already asked him if he had seen Lod's dog.

I dunno! Was busy killing stuff mate. he thought at the time. Was it really up to the Dragonborn to find a Smith's dog? For goodness sake, what is the world coming to? But here he was again, and he was bored and as it happened, he managed to catch Lod just before he retreated into his abode...

So about that hound of yours..., and my word did that start a monologue Harald wasn't interested in. To be fair it wasn't even that long but it seemed like an eternity as Lod was going on about his bloody disappeared fleasack. While he was boring Harald to death with his trivial peasant concerns, Harald heard a roar... and as he was pearing over Lod's shoulder saw a blast of ice hitting some guards... A DRAGON IS ATTACKING FALKREATH!! Harald was desperately trying to shut Lod up going on about his bloody dog, to go out and slay the Dragon like a true Dragonborn, but Lod wouldn't let him go... and it was only polite to let him finish... Until finally the Dragon landed right beside them with a great *THUMP* that sent them both staggering mid-conversation.

Har--harrr Harald was in his element and drew his Steel Axe to engage the beast, but before he could it took off again... it was circling about, spewing icecold death... except less death than that Snow Bear Harald had met on the way to Falkreath... it made Harald smile.

This is a jolly Harald thought, and sure enough, the Dragon landed in the Towncentre, blazing his teeth, spewing blue vomit....

Don't worry everybody! The Dragonborn is here to sort it out! Don't be afraid!, they weren't. Nobody was scared. In fact the entire village, no matter what age, six or position, whether they were trained guards or pathetic new-age-old-lady-hippies, drew their swords, daggers or wooden spoons, they all turned into bloodthristy warriors and attacked the Dragon with not even a slight inkling of fear.... Harald was well impressed and charged the Dragon from the flank, slashing right and left, he was being a true Dragonborn.

I'll show him what's what, it was brillaint.

This is way easier than that Snow Bear he was thinking, I guess this is why I'm the Dragonborn and not the Bearborn.

Harald was just about to deal the killing blow when he noticed the Dragon jerking about... he looked left and saw that a Guard had jumped on his neck and was bashing away at the Dragon's head and sure enough, killed it...
The people of Falkreath were overjoyed, everbody was cheering and were lifting the guard to their shoulders as he was saying: "My cousin is off klilling Dragons and what do I get? Guard duty."

Off the townsfolk went, chanting "Guard! Guard! Guard!" carrying him straight to the next Inn for some decent Mead... while Harald was just standing there... full of disbelief. Absorbing the Dragon's Soul with an expression of despair...

But... I'm the Dragonborne... that was my job...

When a Guard approached and asked him: What, did somebody steal your sweetroll?

I hate doing this but *bump*

After the 5,000th time a guard asked Olaf, "What's wrong did somebody take your Sweet Roll?" he snapped.

Later that evening a pile of guards laid at his feet as he let out a shout of rage, "FUS RO DAH!"

The bodies scattered like sand caught in a desert breeze.

The End.

The man named Dovahkiin. I heard he is Dragonborn. Anyways, I heard he was talking to that blacksmith. I kept on hearing that blacksmith saying "I don't claim to be the best blacksmith." or something. I hear her say that every time a person comes near her. Another time, he was walking toward his home at night. He stayed in that home for about 3 days without coming out! Then when I saw him again, he had this aura around him. Its like he leveled up times 50 or something! After that- after he just wore Elven Armor, he just built some Daedric Armor and wore it like he was a master of the Heavy Armor or something. Must have done some of that magic, maybe a "glitch" in the world or something. Then again, that night when he walked into his house, I saw him holding this strange book. It was all worn. It was a big book from the looks of it. I heard he went to Sovngarde and came back alive! This Dovahkiin man is amazing, but I still treat him like trash because I'm programmed to do so!-----Written by Whiterun guard.

^heh, thanks for your contributions guys.

this thread has the purpose of telling the story fo their own dragonborn. the more comical the better.
just to make a difference from the endless "master is too easy" "level scaling sux" "destruction is UP" "smithing is OP" etc etc threads that we see very effing day...

tell your Skyrim stories guys.

so I tried to make a thread about story telling on this forum... not hyping or flaming the game...

and it failed.

nevermind