THE ELDER SCROLLS:

DOWN WITH AN EMPIRE

Story by JinxJenks


"Cat, do you remember when we first came to Skyrim?" said a DarkElf man shadowed by the columns of the hollow, who sat upon a makeshift throne of stone and clay. They sat inside of a cave east of Solitude, up in the mountains. Dwemeri columns lined the way to his seat, men and women of all types sat and stood around the room.

Cat was leaning against the back of Logvarine's poor-man throne.

"Of course, how could one forget such a day?"


4E 201

"Did you bring your pipe?" asked Catath'een whispering toward Logvarine. He looked at her with joyful eyes.

"By the Divines I did." They laughed at that subtly for a bit and then the ride went quiet again. Most of the ride into Skyrim was quiet with a bit of small talk here and there; Talk of the rebellion in Skyrim and of the so called 'Killer of Kings' Ulfric, Jarl of Windhelm and leader of the Stormcloak Rebellion that has been threatening the Imperial presence in Skyrim. Logvarine assumed that their mission involved him, and he was right in a way…

"Halt!" shouted an Imperial guard dressed in his red and brown leather armor emblazoned with the red dragon symbol. "Let me see your papers please." Tylnar handed him the papers to allow them into Skyrim.

"Everything checks out, you may move along sir… oh and sir!"

"Yes, what is it?" asked an impatient Tylnar.

"I recommend heading to Helgen from here, word is we are going to execute Ulfric there if we catch him with the trap we have set today," spoke the guard, "will be a sight to see." Everyone was listening now, and Tylnar smiled with large teeth at him.

"Sounds like fun, we'll head there right away!"

"You folks behave yourselves in Skyrim." He said as they rode away.

If their mission did involve Ulfric, then it seemed like it would be over momentarily.


Logelaine had made his own way into Skyrim, through the woods and over the mountains. He had evaded border patrol like a master, and then he came upon an unlikely scene; a sole High elf woman tending to the wounds of some Stormcloak soldiers.

"Who are you?" asked Logelaine, she didn't turn when she answered him.

"My name is Saline. I happened across these poor sods in the forest and didn't have the heart to leave them to die." Logelaine was confused by the scene still.

"My name is Logelaine, would you like some help, I'm quite skilled in restoration." The woman still did not look at him, her clothes were rags, tattered and torn.

"Yes, I would appreciate help. Thank you." She said.

Logelaine got right to healing the injured soldiers, but they were interrupted soon after by the sound of horses. Logelaine drew his sword and turned around as Saline grabbed the axe off of one of the bodies. A stampede of Imperial horsemen rushed to them and pointed halberds and swords at the two elves. Silence set in again as the sounds of the woods returned.

"I am Logelaine: Son of Warnarn. What is the meaning of this?" Logelaine declared and asked.

A halberd swept down and hit the sword out of his hand and onto the ground. He received a blow to the back of his head and everything went black.


They arrived in Helgen at around noon, the architecture was very familiar, and they parked the carriage outside of the imperial tower there. The headsman was sharpening his axe and cackling to himself as he waited for his lambs to come walking.

"Greetings, Logvarine, is it? I think I knew your grandfather." Spoke General Tullius, an Imperial General assigned to Skyrim.

"Was his name Logsharn Hlaalu?" asked Logvarine.

"Yes, Yes, he helped train me, I even served under him at one time…" he sighed and crossed his arms, "He was a good man."

"And we shall remember him as such, General…" Logvarine continued, "Let me buy you a bottle of mead General."

"I would be honoured, it was rare for an elf to rise so quickly in the Imperial military; your family is Legendary." General Tullius and Logvarine's friends made their way into the Tavern.

"Hello Vilod." Said Tullius to the bartender. Vilod turned around and leaned against the counter.

"Greetings Tullius, are these your friends?"

"Yes, and Drinks are on me tonight." Logvarine threw a bag of coins onto the counter. "For the WHOLE bar." He said chuckling. There were hoots and cheers of joy, the people must have really liked their mead because they started cheering his name. For at least an hour everyone danced and sang, drinking their problems away, only Logvarine and Tullius sat in the corner talking about Ulfric and his rebellion.

"His Head must roll if-!" Catath'een interrupted Tullius by taking Logvarine by the arm for a dance as people played the Piccolo and the lute and sang merry songs of Joy and Happiness. How inappropriate for what was to come.


"Whe… Where am I?" muttered Logelaine with his hands bound and weapons gone. Saline sat beside him with her face bruised.

"So you're finally awake?" asked Ralof, "You walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

"We're going to be killed…" whispered Saline, "Executed for treason."

"What!?" Logelaine roared. "I am the son of-!"

"Shut up back there!"

"The Execution will start soon, they're outside the gates. You can stay here, I'll try to come and get you when it begins." Said Tullius. Logvarine put down his mead bottle and put his mask up.

"Okay, good luck to you." He replied. The General left for the main gate, while the rest stayed in the tavern. "I can't wait to see his head roll."


"Look at him, General Tullius the military Governor, and it looks like the Thalmor are with him, Damn Elves!" Ralof said as he spit in their direction.

"How are we going to get out of this?" Logelaine whispered to Saline.

"We're not, we are going to die, or fate will save us."

"Can we really trust Fate right now!?"


"It's time for the execution, we've already killed one of them!" screamed a guard into the tavern.

"Great, we missed the first one." Sighed Em-Shei the Argonian.

"It's fine, were here to see Ulfric, so let's get out there." When they got out there the sight was much different than imagined. Logelaine had his head on the chopping block.