In the tombs of the dead
and the caves of the feral,
with every last word you have.
Let them taste of your voice, your steel, your spakrs,
till you're down to your very last arrow.
The dragons are back,
And the war rages on,
The Holds are no longer safe.
But comes forth the Dragonborn, firey and bright,
To fight them, or die, staying strong.
Whether you dine with the Jarls,
or run with the Guilds.
Be you Stormcloak or Imperial bred,
Whether you heed to the Daedra or follow the Divine,
You must defeat Alduin and cut off his head.
The bordering peaks at the Rim of the Sky
hold our home and our unbreakable pride.
May the enemy hear our responding cry,
as we cut them down with hate in our eyes.