So here it is, first chapter of what is going to be a multi-book epic. Spanning from the beginning of the main quest. through the College of Winterhold, the Imperial questline, Dark Brotherhood, Dawnguard, and finally Dragonborn. Each questline is planned to be its own book, though lengths may vary, and so will specifics of quests, to avoid a feeling of having copy-pasted directly from the game. Enjoy!
Don't own it, never will.
My head pounded mercilessly. I could feel myself being jostled around, and could hear the turning of wheels. A wagon, though what kind was still a mystery
I forced my eyes open, wincing as even the dull light streaming through the clouds caused me pain. As my vision focussed, and the pounding in my head lessened slightly, I pushed myself into a sitting position. Two others sat in the cart with me, who they were I didn't much care. Especially since I knew where we were going.
Gone was the armour I had been wearing, replaced by a ruined tunic and tattered pants, though my feet remained uncovered. I flexed my wrists against the rope that was binding them, wincing as they tightened and bit into my skin.
"Hey, you're finally awake." I lazily turned my head to the speaker, a Nord from the looks of him. Dirty blonde hair that ran down to his shoulders, pale blue eyes, and a beard the same colour as his hair. "Those Imperials really did a number on you, they hold some kind of grudge against you?" I shook my head.
"Don't they with everyone?" He chuckled mirthlessly.
"Aye lass, that's true. Might we be so blessed as to know your name and homeland, elf?"
"Telvarla, from the West, my home is long since lost. I tend not to dwell on such things." If only he knew. I glanced at the Imperial soldier driving the cart, thus missing the cautious glance Ralof threw my way.
"An odd name for an elf, but a pleasing name none-the-less. And you have my apologies it's always a shame when one's home is lost. I oft forget elves lead such long lives, how much more you must see." He finally turned his attention to the man beside me. It was another Nord, black haired and a great deal smaller than the blond one. "I'm Ralof, of Riverwood. And you, horse thief, what about you?"
"What does it matter?" The other man snarled. "We're all dead anyway."
"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."
The small Nord sighed before saying, "Lokir, from… from Rorikstead."
For the first time, I gazed around at our surroundings. It was a forest, though where I couldn't be sure. The pine trees around us stretched into the sky, their points swaying slightly in the breeze. I could hear bird song from every angle, though a light fog obscured them from my vision. For a moment, I zoned out. Nothing else around me mattered. For just a second, it was like I was home.
"General Tullius, sir, the headsman is waiting!" The yell broke me from my trance, and intense anger flared inside me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I could feel lightning crackling across my skin.
"Calm yourself, lass." I snapped my attention over to Ralof. "I can feel that magic from here, and I can't even cast a healing spell." I took a deep breath, focussing on my magic. It took a few seconds, but eventually the anger faded away to nothing, taking the escaped magic with it. Ralof opened his mouth to speak, but the biting glare I sent his way stilled his voice.
Once more my attention was drawn outside of the wagon. We were in some kind of keep, high stone walls towered far above us. Small village huts lined the outside walls, and a series of towers lined the walls. I hated cities, they were too claustrophobic, too artificial.
The line of wagons drew into a small courtyard. The three carts stopping in a line against the far wall.
"What… why are we stopping?" Lokir asked, his voice trembling.
"Why do you think, brother? End of the line."
"Oh Gods, please. I don't want to die!."
"Everyone out! Quickly now!" One of the Imperial soldiers yelled, his voice carrying around the courtyard.
"Come on thief," Ralof's voice was calm, even in the face of death. "Face your death with some courage." Lokir rounded on Ralof.
"Easy for you to say, soldier!" He snarled. "All I wanted to do was steal that horse and flee to Hammerfell. And I would have made it too!"
"Out of the cart! Now!" The Imperial yelled again. Reluctantly, Lokir stood and jumped out of the wagon. All around us, other Stormcloak soldiers were doing the same. Lining up in front of their carts, to be recorded and listed before their deaths.
As my feet hit the ground behind Ralof, I savoured the feeling of the dirt beneath me. I scrunched up my toes, and dug them through the soft earth, committing the feeling to memory.
All through the courtyard, the sound of Imperial soldiers yelling names echoed. As I heard Lokir's name called, a fourth cart rolled into the courtyard. This one was different. It was surrounded on all sides by heavily armed guards, with a heavy steel cage in the middle of it. As the cart came to a stop opposite us, the cage door was swung open, and a man was pulled from it.
He was huge, taller than even Ralof. His armour was caked with dried blood, the fur of his bear-skin cape matted and knotted. Cuts and bruises marred his face, his mouth gagged with thick cloth.
Ulfric Stormcloak. Leader of the rebellion. He was exactly like what I had heard of him.
All I had spoken to talked of a man with the strength and courage of a Cave Bear, a man who spoke the High King apart. All said he was to be the one to end the war.
And even now, though he had been caged, bound, and gagged, he exuded an air of confidence, of strength.
Almost as one, the Stormcloak soldiers around us stood straighter, held their heads higher.
And then Lokir ran.
"Stop him!" The shout came from the Imperial captain.
There was the twang of a bowstring, the whistle of an arrow flying through the air, and finally the thunk as said arrow pierced the back of Lokir's head. He made not a sound as he fell, dead before he hit the ground.
"Anyone else?" The captain said spitefully her voice dripping with venom.
"What does it matter if we run!" One of the Stormcloaks in another line yelled. "We're dead anyway!" The captain grinned evilly.
"You can be first then!"
"Fine by me!" The soldier walked over until he was face to face with the captain. "Come on, then! What are you waiting for!" Almost before I could blink again, the captain had driven her sword through the Stormcloaks chest, the bloodied blade bursting through the other side in a shower of gore.
The Stormcloak fell to his knees, gasping as the life left him, and the captain calmly placed her boot on his shoulder and kicked him off her sword. His lifeless body twitching as his last breaths left him.
"Good riddance," Someone muttered from the house behind me.
"I want no more interruptions! Keep the lines moving!" The sound of names being read once more filled the air.
"Ralof, of Riverwood. Step forward." The Imperial in front of us called, his accent thicker than any of the other Imperials.
"Hadvar," Ralof greeted the Imperial standing in front of us with a nod.
"I'm sorry, my friend." The whispered sentiment was almost missed, said so quiet you almost couldn't hear it.
Finally it was just me, standing before the captain and the man Ralof had called Hadvar.
"Who are you?" Hadvar asked, confusion lacing his voice.
"My name is Telvarla, from High Rock." He looked down at his papers in confusion once more.
"That's strange, I don't see you on the list anywhere." He turned to the captain. "What should we do?"
"She goes to the block," the captain said without hesitation. "Same as everyone else." Hadvar nodded slowly as the captain walked away.
"I'm sorry Telvarla. I'll make sure your remains are returned home."
He motioned for me to follow him over to where the other prisoners were standing, listening to General Tullius giving a speech, and pointed for me to stand next to Ralof.
Listening to the General give his speech, I couldn't help but mutter a curse in my native language under my breath. This time I didn't miss the questioning look from Ralof. I mustn't have been as quiet as I thought. I shook my head and turned away from him..
As the General finished his speech, a roar cut through the air. So loud it rattled small rocks on the ground. My eyes widened. But I quickly schooled my features. I was to die at the hands of these Imperials, let them suffer what was to come.
"We've dallied long enough!" The captain snapped, clearly just wishing for the day to be done with. "Bring the elf forwards, she'll be next."
I walked towards the block with only a hint of hesitation. I'd barely stopped in front of the worn stone before the back of my knee was kicked down, and a boot pressed on my back, forcing my head to slam onto the stone block. My vision blurred, becoming unfocused, and I turned my head to face the headsman. If I was going to die, I would at least face it with courage.
As the headsman raised his huge axe, I muttered a prayer, waiting for death.
But the axe never came.
"Dragon!" The yell came a second before I opened my eyes to see what was happening. Flying through the sky, on a beeline towards the keep, was something I hadn't seen in thousands of years.
It crashed down onto the tower in front of me, sending chunks of stone flying, and roared at the gathered crowd. The archers and mages began shooting arrows, and throwing fireballs. The great, black reptile was entirely unaffected by these attacks, so much so that it almost seemed amused.
The dragon observed for a split second, before raising its head to the sky. It inhaled deeply, before roaring again and sending what looked like a red, swirling maelstrom of magic into the air.
The sky darkened, the clouds swirled, and great, flaming balls of rock began to fall. The dragon turned its head down, locking eyes with me.
It tilted its head, as if it was confused by me.
"Gein do faal kruziik fahliille?" The deep rumbling voice echoed around the courtyard, everything froze. The archers and the mages stopped firing on the dragon, the soldiers and townspeople stopped running. Everything was still. "Nii los pogaan aan bok fah hin fron lost lahney. Hi lost sahlo ruz, hi los sahlo nu. Hi fent dir med pah do hin reyliik lost dreh!"
On the last word, the dragon stretched its wings, and took off into the sky. And began raining streams of fire upon the keep.
"Gein do faal kruziik fahliille?" "One of the ancient elves?"
"Nii los pogaan aan bok fah hin fron lost lahney. Hi lost sahlo ruz, hi los sahlo nu. Hi fent dir med pah do hin reyliik lost dreh!" "It is many an era since your kin have lived. You were weak then, you are weak now. You shall die like all of your race has done!"