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The story of how Fahdonmul defeated Alduin in the Dragonborn's absence continues - it will run to eight chapters.
Fahdonmul faces his greatest enemy yet
Icon art by
den-99
While Sweet-Roll-Devour is my creation, I owe a lot to an anonymous contributor writing a fanfic about him, which helped gel his personality. Skyrim and its characters are property of Bethesda, of course.
=================
Chapter 7 - Dragonslayer
"Ruth," Fahdonmul cursed, materialising in the realm of the dead. "I forgot to ask them how I'm supposed to get back!"
He had appeared in a valley surrounded by snow-capped mountain slopes, giant statues on either side. It was like night, and an eerie mist hung over the place. Of Alduin there was no sign.
The brown dragon considered his options for a few moments, before deciding that discretion was the better part of valour. Rather than stray into the mist, he flew up one side of the valley and looked down over it.
There, perched on a word-wall on a hill in the centre of the valley, the World-Eater sat, minding his own business.
Fahdonmul's eyes narrowed and he grinned viciously. "Alduin..." he started, wheeling around, "My teeth to your neck!"
The Eater of the World looked up, stunned, as Fahdonmul dived at him like a kestrel taking a mouse. Claws sharper than daedric blades ripped through his spine as he was lifted up and then dropped to fall, brokenly, onto the word-wall.
The black dragon screamed and thrashed as he died. "I am unending!" he screamed in defiance. "I cannot end!" Then death took him. The World-Eater's body exploded and tendrils of energy, the dying dragon's zii, flailed around his corpse.
Fahdonmul had seen this kind of energy release before, and the sight of it made him shudder. Sometimes it could be a positive thing - one dovah could teach another directly, willingly sharing their understanding with another and tendrils of energy containing that knowledge would flow out in such a way.
But usually it meant that one dragon had devoured another of his kind... consuming their very soul, at least in part. Fahdonmul could never bring himself to believe that Father Akatosh would be so merciless and cruel to have designed His own children to receive a final death, the complete annihilation of a sentient mind with hopes, dreams and ambitions... But whatever such soul-stealing actually did to a dovah, none had ever returned from it - at least, not in this kalpa.
As he watched Alduin die, body exploding, flesh and bones boiling way to nothing, Fahdonmul felt a mounting sense of profound guilt, until he realised that the life-energies were flowing upwards instead of towards him... Father Akatosh had claimed His wayward son.
Relief that he was not going to accidentally cannibalise a fellow dovah's immortal soul gave way to a swell of pride and triumph at what he had accomplished against all the odds. "Father Akatosh," he roared, thumping his tail against the ground triumphantly, "...Thy will be done!"
It had taken longer for Alduin's death throes to play out than it had taken Fahdonmul to arrive in Sovngarde and slay him. As the mist finally dissipated, the skies cleared and the darkness gave way to an ethereal dawn, Fahdonmul perched himself on the word-wall and pondered what to do next.
Alduin's Other Wall, he thought. Well, he won't be needing this anymore!
Fahdonmul sat upon Alduin's former throne, admiring the lush scenery of Sovngarde as the enormity of what he had done sank in. Alduin was the mightiest of Akatosh's children, and now he, a mere lesser dragon, had slain him. "Now I am the mightiest of Your children," he mused, quoting the 34th Sermon of Vivec, and shook his head. The dov were a proud race, but Fahdonmul was smart enough to realise that too much pride would simply turn him into another Alduin.
"Why would you even build a word-wall in Sovngarde?" He wondered aloud, craning his his neck to study the perch on which he sat. "Who would ever sit on this thing besides Alduin...? Or was it intended that some of our kind, after suffering a little-death, should be sent here as a reward for exceptional deeds...?
"...Come to that, how would you build a word-wall here? I don't suppose the inhabitants of Sovngarde would be too enthusiastic about building them, especially the ones who died in the Dragon War."
"Do you know the way? I'm weary and lost..." a voice said, interrupting his musing. Fahdonmul looked down to see a dead soldier staring back up at him.
"Hello there," Fahdonmul said, considering the lost soul. "I'm not actually Alduin... He's dead. I am the mighty dragon, Fahdonmul! Pleased to meet you. The castle's over there," he added, gesturing with his snout.
"But the World-Eater waits within the mist!" the soul protested.
"I don't think he's going to be bothering you anymore," Fahdonmul replied.
"Oh!" the soldier said, confused and not entirely sure whether to believe him or not.
Fahdonmul spread his wings and hopped off the word-wall onto the hill. A soul in kingly dress looked up to him, and as the dragon turned to look, his wing bumped into them, knocking the ethereal figure clean off the hill and down to the paths below.
"Shit! Sorry...!" Fahdonmul called.
"That was High King Toryg," the soldier said, looking mortified.
"Can you check he's okay?" the dragon asked. "I'd better see if I can find a way home."
At the foot of the hill, a bridge made from gigantic bones stretched over a precipice to an ominous-looking castle. Fahdonmul started at first, thinking it to be made from a murdered dovah, until he took in the scale and realised that the bridge was made from the bones of a colossal whale.
At this end of the bridge, a tall figure scanned the skies, and the dragon came in to land in front of him, hoping to ask directions. He paused for a second, going over Nord mythology, before recalling that this was a minor god - Tsun, shieldbearer to the dead god Shor, who seemed to run Sovngarde.
"Hi," Fahdonmul said. "I've just killed Alduin. You're a god, right...? Could you possibly send me back to Mundus...?"
"Can't do that," the god said. "You have to fight Alduin first."
"But I did!" Fahdonmul insisted. "I fought Alduin, and he is now pretty dead. His ziil has flowed back to Father Akatosh, that he may face justice."
"No, you assassinated him," Tsun argued. "It was supposed to be a glorious, epic battle and instead, it was a butchery! It doesn't count - it wasn't a proper fight! It's a prophecy - you have to do things by the book, or not at all."
"I killed the World-Eater!" Fahdonmul roared. "I saved the world! I saved your precious Sovngarde!"
"I don't make the rules," Tsun said. "It's what the prophecy says."
"You're gods!" Fahdonmul retorted. "If the prophecy went wrong that's your fault, not mine!"
"Not my department," Tsun said. "You want to go home? You have to go into the castle, get the three Tongues to come out and then fight Alduin. That's what the prophecy says."
"Are you seriously telling me that you want to watch us fight his corpse?" Fahdonmul looked shocked. "What kind of sick bastard are you?"
"Frankly, no," Tsun grimaced. "But there's clearly been some kind of cock-up and I'll have to okay it with my boss. Meanwhile, you fetch the Tongues, pose next to him so it looks like you've just slain him, and I can tick everything off the list."
"I don't believe this," Fahdonmul said, fanning his wings for take-off.
"HALT!" Tsun commanded.
"What's the matter now?" Fahdonmul snapped.
"You may not cross the bridge, dragon."
Fahdonmul looked enraged. "But you just said..." he started.
"You must earn the right to do so," Tsun retorted. "Living or dead, by decree of Shor, none may pass this perilous bridge 'till I judge them worthy by the warrior's test."
Fahdonmul snarled, thumping his tail against the ground. "I'm a dragon!" he snapped. "I don't have time for this shit!"
"I don't care if you're Ysgramor himself," Tsun retorted. "Shor's might will strike you down if you approach the halls without a permit."
Finally losing his temper, Fahdonmul threw a dragon-tantrum and blasted a large sheet of flame at the god's face.
Tsun hefted his axe and stomped forwards, looking delighted. "That's more like it! I've waited long for such a worthy opponent!"
Fahdonmul sighed, craned his neck over and chomped down hard upon the minor deity. A mortal would have been sliced in two. "Hmmm... You're pretty chewy," he remarked.
Tsun collapsed to the ground in agony, bent over double and breathing heavily.
"Happy now?" the dragon asked peevishly.
"You fought... well..." Tsun croaked. "I find you... worthy... May Shor's... favour... follow you..."
The brown dragon fanned his wings and flew across the whalebone bridge. The doors were large, far larger than necessary for a mortal, or even a minor god such as Tsun, but it proved a problem for Fahdonmul, who was too stubborn to assume a mortal guise.
Squeezing through the doorway, he beheld a large room, where rows of tables were set with gold plates and four oxen roasted above a fire-pit in the centre of the room. Ancient dead heroes went about the place, eating, drinking and sparring.
Bards played music, which suddenly gave way to silence as the dragon poked his head into the room.
"Shor protect us!" Someone said. "Wait... that's not Alduin!"
"Uh... Hello...?" Fahdonmul called. "Can I come in...?"
"Welcome, dragonbor... uh, dragon," an imposing figure said. "Our door has stood empty since Alduin first set his soul-snare here. By Shor's command, we-"
"Ysgramor?!" Fahdonmul exclaimed, looking really pleased. "It's been a while! Hope you're doing okay! I mean, apart from being dead and all..."
"Uh..." the ancient Atmoran looked a little confused.
"I remember you from Atmora!" Fahdonmul explained happily. "You were one of my favourite mortals there. I did not expect to see you again..."
"Coming from a dragon, that means a lot," Ysgramor said, looking pleasantly surprised. "I have been praised by Nords before, but your kind are not known for caring about the deeds of mortal races.
"Anyway... Three await your word to loose their fury upon the... On the..." he faltered. "...He's already dead, isn't he?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah!" Fahdonmul said proudly. "The World-Eater has finally tasted death, as he has dealt to so many innocents. I made sure of that... but apparently someone wants a second opinion. Maybe Shor should just ask Father Akatosh...?"
"Oh boy," Ysgramor chuckled, glancing around the hall. "This is gonna be fun."
"Hmm?" Fahdonmul asked.
"You know what Nords are like, sky-lord..." Ysgramor grinned. "They love their songs of valour and glory. Always writing poetic ballads about how the World-Eater will face his final doom, a hopeless battle of mortals against the devourer of Time itself. And now... well, 'Another dragon came and killed him' just doesn't have the same ring to it, does it...? The bards are going to be so disappointed."
"Plus they were hoping a Nord would do it," Fahdonmul prompted, grinning back.
"Aye, that too. But for my part, I am just glad that the evil one is dead."
"He had it coming," Fahdonmul said, looking more sombre. "His arrogance and foolishness started a war with mortals that devastated our kind, and devouring the souls of mortals is reprehensible.
"And yet at the same time, he was magnificent - the crown of Our Father's creation. I cannot forget that he was once, long, long ago, our best and brightest. An inspiration to us all... before he fell prey to madness and greed. Maybe, when Our Father has seen him suitably chastened, he will return a wiser, more responsible dragon, and less of a threat to all... Yet somehow, I doubt it."
"So se krongrah?" Ysgramor asked in dovahzul.
"The sorrow of victory," Fahdonmul confirmed. "Still, I take comfort that I have not devoured his soul. For if I had absorbed his power and knowledge, that could have made me the world-eater, and I want no such thing."
"Do you hear that?" Ysgramor called out suddenly. "The World-Eater is slain, praise Shor! And praise the... uh, dragon, for his valiant deed!"
"Sometimes it takes a dragon to slay a dragon," Fahdonmul called out, looking especially pleased with himself.
Some faces looked shocked. Most cheered, but only a few seemed to put their hearts in it.
"Ungrateful louts," Ysgramor did not look pleased, or surprised for that matter. "As you say, they hoped a Nord would do it."
"Screw 'em," Fahdonmul decided.
"My disciples still follow the difficult path," Jurgen Windcaller observed, looking up at Fahdonmul. "The Way of the Voice is neither wide nor easy."
"That path was too difficult for me, I'm afraid," Fahdonmul replied sadly. "But Paarthurnax is doing well, and he is teaching other dovahhe your creed too. My hope is that it can help bring understanding between our kinds. I can tell the Old One you said 'Hi' if you like...?"
"You are an unusual dragon," Windcaller replied, looking bemused.
"Anyway," Fahdonmul said, turning back to the old Atmoran hero. "I'm supposed to be meeting three bold warriors so we can pose next to Alduin's corpse, even though it's all boiled away and been collected by Father Akatosh or something. Where can I find them?"
"In the dining hall," Ysgramor pointed. Fahdonmul turned, his tail swinging out for balance and striking the dining table. A shower of ornate golden plates flew everywhere, bouncing off the walls and scattering across the main hall. A jug of wine landed in the firepit along with a large cabbage.
"Oops," Fahdonmul said. A sweet-roll landed in front of him, and he quickly snaffled it up like a dog.
Gingerly, he made his way to the main dining hall, where two knights and a mage stood, avidly discussing their hatred of Alduin.
"Hey there," Fahdonmul said. "I'm looking for three Tongues..."
The man, woman and old mystic abruptly turned to face him.
"YOU!" Gormlaith and Fahdonmul snarled together.
The story of how Fahdonmul defeated Alduin in the Dragonborn's absence continues - it will run to eight chapters.
Fahdonmul faces his greatest enemy yet
Icon art by
den-99While Sweet-Roll-Devour is my creation, I owe a lot to an anonymous contributor writing a fanfic about him, which helped gel his personality. Skyrim and its characters are property of Bethesda, of course.
=================
Chapter 7 - Dragonslayer
"Ruth," Fahdonmul cursed, materialising in the realm of the dead. "I forgot to ask them how I'm supposed to get back!"
He had appeared in a valley surrounded by snow-capped mountain slopes, giant statues on either side. It was like night, and an eerie mist hung over the place. Of Alduin there was no sign.
The brown dragon considered his options for a few moments, before deciding that discretion was the better part of valour. Rather than stray into the mist, he flew up one side of the valley and looked down over it.
There, perched on a word-wall on a hill in the centre of the valley, the World-Eater sat, minding his own business.
Fahdonmul's eyes narrowed and he grinned viciously. "Alduin..." he started, wheeling around, "My teeth to your neck!"
The Eater of the World looked up, stunned, as Fahdonmul dived at him like a kestrel taking a mouse. Claws sharper than daedric blades ripped through his spine as he was lifted up and then dropped to fall, brokenly, onto the word-wall.
The black dragon screamed and thrashed as he died. "I am unending!" he screamed in defiance. "I cannot end!" Then death took him. The World-Eater's body exploded and tendrils of energy, the dying dragon's zii, flailed around his corpse.
Fahdonmul had seen this kind of energy release before, and the sight of it made him shudder. Sometimes it could be a positive thing - one dovah could teach another directly, willingly sharing their understanding with another and tendrils of energy containing that knowledge would flow out in such a way.
But usually it meant that one dragon had devoured another of his kind... consuming their very soul, at least in part. Fahdonmul could never bring himself to believe that Father Akatosh would be so merciless and cruel to have designed His own children to receive a final death, the complete annihilation of a sentient mind with hopes, dreams and ambitions... But whatever such soul-stealing actually did to a dovah, none had ever returned from it - at least, not in this kalpa.
As he watched Alduin die, body exploding, flesh and bones boiling way to nothing, Fahdonmul felt a mounting sense of profound guilt, until he realised that the life-energies were flowing upwards instead of towards him... Father Akatosh had claimed His wayward son.
Relief that he was not going to accidentally cannibalise a fellow dovah's immortal soul gave way to a swell of pride and triumph at what he had accomplished against all the odds. "Father Akatosh," he roared, thumping his tail against the ground triumphantly, "...Thy will be done!"
It had taken longer for Alduin's death throes to play out than it had taken Fahdonmul to arrive in Sovngarde and slay him. As the mist finally dissipated, the skies cleared and the darkness gave way to an ethereal dawn, Fahdonmul perched himself on the word-wall and pondered what to do next.
Alduin's Other Wall, he thought. Well, he won't be needing this anymore!
Fahdonmul sat upon Alduin's former throne, admiring the lush scenery of Sovngarde as the enormity of what he had done sank in. Alduin was the mightiest of Akatosh's children, and now he, a mere lesser dragon, had slain him. "Now I am the mightiest of Your children," he mused, quoting the 34th Sermon of Vivec, and shook his head. The dov were a proud race, but Fahdonmul was smart enough to realise that too much pride would simply turn him into another Alduin.
"Why would you even build a word-wall in Sovngarde?" He wondered aloud, craning his his neck to study the perch on which he sat. "Who would ever sit on this thing besides Alduin...? Or was it intended that some of our kind, after suffering a little-death, should be sent here as a reward for exceptional deeds...?
"...Come to that, how would you build a word-wall here? I don't suppose the inhabitants of Sovngarde would be too enthusiastic about building them, especially the ones who died in the Dragon War."
"Do you know the way? I'm weary and lost..." a voice said, interrupting his musing. Fahdonmul looked down to see a dead soldier staring back up at him.
"Hello there," Fahdonmul said, considering the lost soul. "I'm not actually Alduin... He's dead. I am the mighty dragon, Fahdonmul! Pleased to meet you. The castle's over there," he added, gesturing with his snout.
"But the World-Eater waits within the mist!" the soul protested.
"I don't think he's going to be bothering you anymore," Fahdonmul replied.
"Oh!" the soldier said, confused and not entirely sure whether to believe him or not.
Fahdonmul spread his wings and hopped off the word-wall onto the hill. A soul in kingly dress looked up to him, and as the dragon turned to look, his wing bumped into them, knocking the ethereal figure clean off the hill and down to the paths below.
"Shit! Sorry...!" Fahdonmul called.
"That was High King Toryg," the soldier said, looking mortified.
"Can you check he's okay?" the dragon asked. "I'd better see if I can find a way home."
* * *At the foot of the hill, a bridge made from gigantic bones stretched over a precipice to an ominous-looking castle. Fahdonmul started at first, thinking it to be made from a murdered dovah, until he took in the scale and realised that the bridge was made from the bones of a colossal whale.
At this end of the bridge, a tall figure scanned the skies, and the dragon came in to land in front of him, hoping to ask directions. He paused for a second, going over Nord mythology, before recalling that this was a minor god - Tsun, shieldbearer to the dead god Shor, who seemed to run Sovngarde.
"Hi," Fahdonmul said. "I've just killed Alduin. You're a god, right...? Could you possibly send me back to Mundus...?"
"Can't do that," the god said. "You have to fight Alduin first."
"But I did!" Fahdonmul insisted. "I fought Alduin, and he is now pretty dead. His ziil has flowed back to Father Akatosh, that he may face justice."
"No, you assassinated him," Tsun argued. "It was supposed to be a glorious, epic battle and instead, it was a butchery! It doesn't count - it wasn't a proper fight! It's a prophecy - you have to do things by the book, or not at all."
"I killed the World-Eater!" Fahdonmul roared. "I saved the world! I saved your precious Sovngarde!"
"I don't make the rules," Tsun said. "It's what the prophecy says."
"You're gods!" Fahdonmul retorted. "If the prophecy went wrong that's your fault, not mine!"
"Not my department," Tsun said. "You want to go home? You have to go into the castle, get the three Tongues to come out and then fight Alduin. That's what the prophecy says."
"Are you seriously telling me that you want to watch us fight his corpse?" Fahdonmul looked shocked. "What kind of sick bastard are you?"
"Frankly, no," Tsun grimaced. "But there's clearly been some kind of cock-up and I'll have to okay it with my boss. Meanwhile, you fetch the Tongues, pose next to him so it looks like you've just slain him, and I can tick everything off the list."
"I don't believe this," Fahdonmul said, fanning his wings for take-off.
"HALT!" Tsun commanded.
"What's the matter now?" Fahdonmul snapped.
"You may not cross the bridge, dragon."
Fahdonmul looked enraged. "But you just said..." he started.
"You must earn the right to do so," Tsun retorted. "Living or dead, by decree of Shor, none may pass this perilous bridge 'till I judge them worthy by the warrior's test."
Fahdonmul snarled, thumping his tail against the ground. "I'm a dragon!" he snapped. "I don't have time for this shit!"
"I don't care if you're Ysgramor himself," Tsun retorted. "Shor's might will strike you down if you approach the halls without a permit."
Finally losing his temper, Fahdonmul threw a dragon-tantrum and blasted a large sheet of flame at the god's face.
Tsun hefted his axe and stomped forwards, looking delighted. "That's more like it! I've waited long for such a worthy opponent!"
Fahdonmul sighed, craned his neck over and chomped down hard upon the minor deity. A mortal would have been sliced in two. "Hmmm... You're pretty chewy," he remarked.
Tsun collapsed to the ground in agony, bent over double and breathing heavily.
"Happy now?" the dragon asked peevishly.
"You fought... well..." Tsun croaked. "I find you... worthy... May Shor's... favour... follow you..."
The brown dragon fanned his wings and flew across the whalebone bridge. The doors were large, far larger than necessary for a mortal, or even a minor god such as Tsun, but it proved a problem for Fahdonmul, who was too stubborn to assume a mortal guise.
Squeezing through the doorway, he beheld a large room, where rows of tables were set with gold plates and four oxen roasted above a fire-pit in the centre of the room. Ancient dead heroes went about the place, eating, drinking and sparring.
Bards played music, which suddenly gave way to silence as the dragon poked his head into the room.
"Shor protect us!" Someone said. "Wait... that's not Alduin!"
"Uh... Hello...?" Fahdonmul called. "Can I come in...?"
"Welcome, dragonbor... uh, dragon," an imposing figure said. "Our door has stood empty since Alduin first set his soul-snare here. By Shor's command, we-"
"Ysgramor?!" Fahdonmul exclaimed, looking really pleased. "It's been a while! Hope you're doing okay! I mean, apart from being dead and all..."
"Uh..." the ancient Atmoran looked a little confused.
"I remember you from Atmora!" Fahdonmul explained happily. "You were one of my favourite mortals there. I did not expect to see you again..."
"Coming from a dragon, that means a lot," Ysgramor said, looking pleasantly surprised. "I have been praised by Nords before, but your kind are not known for caring about the deeds of mortal races.
"Anyway... Three await your word to loose their fury upon the... On the..." he faltered. "...He's already dead, isn't he?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah!" Fahdonmul said proudly. "The World-Eater has finally tasted death, as he has dealt to so many innocents. I made sure of that... but apparently someone wants a second opinion. Maybe Shor should just ask Father Akatosh...?"
"Oh boy," Ysgramor chuckled, glancing around the hall. "This is gonna be fun."
"Hmm?" Fahdonmul asked.
"You know what Nords are like, sky-lord..." Ysgramor grinned. "They love their songs of valour and glory. Always writing poetic ballads about how the World-Eater will face his final doom, a hopeless battle of mortals against the devourer of Time itself. And now... well, 'Another dragon came and killed him' just doesn't have the same ring to it, does it...? The bards are going to be so disappointed."
"Plus they were hoping a Nord would do it," Fahdonmul prompted, grinning back.
"Aye, that too. But for my part, I am just glad that the evil one is dead."
"He had it coming," Fahdonmul said, looking more sombre. "His arrogance and foolishness started a war with mortals that devastated our kind, and devouring the souls of mortals is reprehensible.
"And yet at the same time, he was magnificent - the crown of Our Father's creation. I cannot forget that he was once, long, long ago, our best and brightest. An inspiration to us all... before he fell prey to madness and greed. Maybe, when Our Father has seen him suitably chastened, he will return a wiser, more responsible dragon, and less of a threat to all... Yet somehow, I doubt it."
"So se krongrah?" Ysgramor asked in dovahzul.
"The sorrow of victory," Fahdonmul confirmed. "Still, I take comfort that I have not devoured his soul. For if I had absorbed his power and knowledge, that could have made me the world-eater, and I want no such thing."
"Do you hear that?" Ysgramor called out suddenly. "The World-Eater is slain, praise Shor! And praise the... uh, dragon, for his valiant deed!"
"Sometimes it takes a dragon to slay a dragon," Fahdonmul called out, looking especially pleased with himself.
Some faces looked shocked. Most cheered, but only a few seemed to put their hearts in it.
"Ungrateful louts," Ysgramor did not look pleased, or surprised for that matter. "As you say, they hoped a Nord would do it."
"Screw 'em," Fahdonmul decided.
"My disciples still follow the difficult path," Jurgen Windcaller observed, looking up at Fahdonmul. "The Way of the Voice is neither wide nor easy."
"That path was too difficult for me, I'm afraid," Fahdonmul replied sadly. "But Paarthurnax is doing well, and he is teaching other dovahhe your creed too. My hope is that it can help bring understanding between our kinds. I can tell the Old One you said 'Hi' if you like...?"
"You are an unusual dragon," Windcaller replied, looking bemused.
"Anyway," Fahdonmul said, turning back to the old Atmoran hero. "I'm supposed to be meeting three bold warriors so we can pose next to Alduin's corpse, even though it's all boiled away and been collected by Father Akatosh or something. Where can I find them?"
"In the dining hall," Ysgramor pointed. Fahdonmul turned, his tail swinging out for balance and striking the dining table. A shower of ornate golden plates flew everywhere, bouncing off the walls and scattering across the main hall. A jug of wine landed in the firepit along with a large cabbage.
"Oops," Fahdonmul said. A sweet-roll landed in front of him, and he quickly snaffled it up like a dog.
Gingerly, he made his way to the main dining hall, where two knights and a mage stood, avidly discussing their hatred of Alduin.
"Hey there," Fahdonmul said. "I'm looking for three Tongues..."
The man, woman and old mystic abruptly turned to face him.
"YOU!" Gormlaith and Fahdonmul snarled together.
Category Story / Fantasy
Species Wyvern
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 88.4 kB
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