Skyrim deserves an Epic poem like The Odyssey

[mcv001]

Like the topic says, Skyrim deserves an Epic poem like The Odyssey .
We can't provide that, but below is a rough cut attempt anyway.

Please forgive errors in wording, rhyme, meter, spelling, and time line.
This is meant for fun and enjoyment and we are certainly not Homer.
Not the Greek, and not even the Simpson either.

Skyrim has so much richness that will be hard to ever put into just wrods.
Still the quest challenge have been given and we will undertake the journey.

As there are spoilers we offer this here, don't know of a way to do this without them.

Hope you enjoy this,

mcv001 -aka- M Saevey


Sarthal with D'jargo

Oh Todd you world is replete
With charactors and stories
Some shallow, some deep
But does it hold the treasures we seek?

Our neck on the chopping block
What a start! Is this our luck?
In fear and amazement we behold
A dragon from days of old

He's our enemy, he makes it clear
Burning anyone that get's too near
Is our anemy's enemy our friend?
Little do we know we'll meet him again.

Hands tied until they are freed
By another who chooses to flee
Through the keep and the caverns later
Bodies mount that someone must slay sir.

Kill the spider to get its poison
Use that on the bear to keep things sporting
Gather from every nook and crany and body
Anything we can use or sell to somebody

We emerge from the cave with a friend
It's a beginning and not the end
Pick every flower along the trail
To Riverwood quick, do not fail

How can we complete your quest
When we find no bed to give us rest
Mysteries killed and thus not in store
We only find charcoal and paper in that drawer

Most barrels meager pickings we can take after a peek
Farm crops need gathering, we can sell them or keep
Wood won't chop itself but we help and sell for coin in our purse
At first it seems a hard living but it gets better and not worse.

If we stroll in your nature for a walk
Wolves, bears, and spiders our progress seem to block
Yet if we vanquish, run away, or die,
We're sure to learn and lotsomething, but what or why?

We make it to Riverwood and make some friends
If wolves and bandits on the way don't force our end
Help a fellow win his lady love unfairly
As an archer he'll follow us down the tree lined bends

With mysterious claws in frozen cold barrows
We can kill undead helped by our archer friends arrows
Burdened with loot it's to the Riverwood store
To sell all for a pittance or a fraction more

The Riverwood folk will remind us daily it seems
We need to tell the leader at Whiterun of the dragon's schemes
So it's across the bridge and along the trail
To Whiterun we sneak to avoid claws the impale

It's near Whiterun we come across an amazing scene
Warrior's fighting a giant at a farm past the stream
If by chance we help then it's praise we may get.
But it's easy to miss, besides our arrows got wet.

When we finally approach Whiteruns walls, gate and door.
Guards deny entry unless offical business we implore
Once in the town we may meet a lady blacksmith
Or head to that mead hall to make fighting friend quick

We're called a welp and then a milk drinker
By the Companion Lady, a giant slayer
Later in her groups mead hall
We're given many menial tasks, just do 'em and stand tall.

When we final gain the Companions trust one night
It's to a secret place where they give us a bite
Then things blur and we howl at the moon
They've made us a werewolf way too soon.

The Silver Hands have gotten out of hand
They've kill a member of the Companions band
A passing Companion told us later
We'll have to kill them, the threat is great Sir.

In Whiterun everone will have things to say
Including see the Jarl about that dragon, he's up this way
While alarmed at the message he'll thank us with a gift
Then set upon us a task, kill another dragon quick.

So it's follow the guards to a damged western tower
Where a dragon attacts and wants guards to devore.
We lend our aid and may be burnt by fire
It's a mere scratch twenty cheese wheels can expire.

With dragon dead there's soon an eerie sound
With swirls of magic it's soul we impound
Those that are there are bewildered and amazed
They'll call us DragonBorn, he who slays.

Then one will say to be sure you must try this quick
Make the voice of a dragon to prove this is not a trick
So with a voice like a mighty dragon shout
You words push them back and knock them about.

Next heard by all and from mountains distant
Comes the call from the Graybeards, they seem insistant
So you trudge to Iverstead to be near your goal
Seven thousand steps up the mountain to the Graybeard's abode.

Help the helper by taking supplies to the Graybeards on your trek
Avoid or kill wolves, bears and trolls or loss your neck.
Stop and read every shine along the way
Then animals will leave you alone, if only for a day.

The Graybeards test and teach you and then pronounce judegment
You are the Dragonborn, can you get our horn from where it's been sent?
After fighting undead for what seems like hours
You find no horn only a note card without flowers

With thoughts that magic may aid your quest
You decide to seek some and delay that quest
You find outside Whiterun a carriage driver
Take me to Winterhold and get me there alive Sir.

It's cold in Winterhold, just as you would've guessed
The folk talk bad of the Mage college, you think give it a rest
To the North of the town you climb the damaged way
Until a Mage bids you "Stop! Or you I will slay!"

You speak of your need for magical power and knowledge
If you pass her test she lets you in the Mage's College
You meet instructors and students and begin your studies
Do D'jargo's quest and and you can be buddies

After lessons your professor says one day.
We must go to Sarthal, it's safe with nothing to slay.
Thru snow storms you and other students make your way.
You asked them what they think about Sarthal and they all have things to say.

You search this dark place through passages dark and long
You don't feel safe despite the Mage Professor's song
Then you get traded in a cage, that didn't take long.
But your friends help you get out, you're glad they came along.




. . . to be continued . . .

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