Saggaris Posted December 19, 2013 Share Posted December 19, 2013 Has anyone thought about creating a 'Proper' Dragon Cave with perhaps two or three Dragons residing in it, even maybe entering and exiting on occasions?I used to love the Dungeons and Dragons RPGs that had Dragon fights and a 'Dragon's Hoard' for the party to haul out of the cave after the Victory, and I have never seen the like in Skyrim even though we have been blessed with fantastic caves and wonderful Dragons! Be nice to hear of anyone interested. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
reyzark Posted December 19, 2013 Share Posted December 19, 2013 i miss my D&D days, supporting this one and looking foward to see it. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dernachtwolf Posted December 25, 2013 Share Posted December 25, 2013 It would likely require a change in the dragon's AI, since the dragon would try to fly. Unless this dungeon is ridiculously huge Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TaeRai Posted December 25, 2013 Share Posted December 25, 2013 What about a small cave that wasn't a cell? Wouldn't be too hard to do Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
MJAB98 Posted December 25, 2013 Share Posted December 25, 2013 You could create a new dragon race (easily done in CK) then just turn off ability to fly in the race menu. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Deleted1308005User Posted December 25, 2013 Share Posted December 25, 2013 You could create a new dragon race (easily done in CK) then just turn off ability to fly in the race menu. Also, ever done "Mage's College" quest line? *HINT HINT HINT* Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
VanKrill Posted December 25, 2013 Share Posted December 25, 2013 THE HOARD'When the moon was new and the sun youngof silver and gold the gods sung:in the green grass they silver spilled,and the white waters they with gold filled.Ere the pit was dug or Hell yawned,ere dwarf was bred or dragon spawned,there were Elves of old, and strong spellsunder green hills in hollow dellsthey sang as they wrought many fair things,and the bright crowns of the Elf-kings.But their doom fell, and their song waned,by iron hewn and by steel chained.Greed that sang not, nor with mouth smiled,in dark holes their wealth piled,graven silver and carven gold:over Elvenhome the shadow rolled.There was an old dwarf in a dark cave,to silver and gold his fingers clave;with hammer and tongs and anvil-stonehe worked his hands to the hard bone.and coins he made, and strings of rings,and thought to buy the power of kings.But his eyes grew dim and his ears dulland the skin yellow on his old skull;through his bony claw with a pale sheenthe stony jewels slipped unseen.No feet he heard, though the earth quaked.when the young dragon his thirst slaked.and the stream smoked at his dark door.The flames hissed on the dank floor,and he died alone in the red fire;his bones were ashes in the hot mire.There was an old dragon under grey stone;his red eyes blinked as he lay alone.His joy was dead and his youth spent,he was knobbed and wrinkled, and his limbs bentin the long years to his gold chained;in his heart's furnace the fire waned.To his belly's slime gems stuck thick,silver and gold he would snuff and lick:he knew the place of the least ringbeneath the shadow of his black wing.Of thieves he thought on his hard bed,and dreamed that on their flesh he fed,their bones crushed, and their blood drank:his ears drooped and his breath sank.Mail-rings rang. He heard them not.A voice echoed in his deep grot:a young warrior with a bright swordcalled him forth to defend his hoard.His teeth were knives, and of horn his hide,but iron tore him, and his flame died.There was an old king on a high throne:his white beard lay on knees of bone;his mouth savoured neither meat nor drink,nor his ears song; he could only thinkof his huge chest with carven lidwhere pale gems and gold lay hidin secret treasury in the dark ground;its strong doors were iron-bound.The swords of his thanes were dull with rust,his glory fallen, his rule unjust,his halls hollow, and his bowers cold,but king he was of elvish gold.He heard not the horns in the mountain-pass,he smelt not the blood on the trodden grass,but his halls were burned, his kingdom lost;in a cold pit his bones were tossed.There is an old hoard in a dark rock,forgotten behind doors none can unlock;that grim gate no man can pass.On the mound grows the green grass;there sheep feed and the larks soar,and the wind blows from the sea-shore.The old hoard the Night shall keep,while earth waits and the Elves sleep.' - J.R.R Tolkien, The Tolkien Reader. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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