#undnar

Undnar, what makes a Nord a Nord?

Undnar stretches grandly and grins with his habitual chipped mirth. “Ah, what a timely question, friend! The old sagas will tell us that we Children of the Sky descend from mighty Atmorans, travelers from that lost homeland of which only legend and rumor remain, and so it is the blood coursing in our veins, as cool as eternal ice and as scorching as dragonfire that makes us who we are. But I ask you this: how does one know to call one’s hair fair if one sees only straw, or one’s stature great when the only eyes one meets, save for those of children, are at one’s level? So to call oneself Nord is not so dissimilar from calling oneself Redguard or Bosmer—one is Nord because one isn’t otherwise. But those are the sagas, friend. And what are sagas if not the bootprint left on a map that defines for all its contours?

But you ask about what makes a Nord, not what it means to be one, nor what it means to claim the word for oneself in this beautiful land that is mine. In which case... I'd say it's the same sort of procedure, give or take.” He leans in, his tawny eyes twinkling, and makes a lewd gesture with his hands by way of illustration.

[You are pretty sure that what’s coming is a talk about the birds and the bees. Would you like to throw something heavy at his head before he proceeds with the explanation?]