The way of the Cathay-Rhat,
An Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim tale
L.T: This one welcomes you to Elsweyr. Come, sit by the fire. The nights are cold, and dangerous. Oh, there is no need for alarm, friends. This one will protect you. Come, eat, drink, and listen to the tale that this one has to tell…
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THE FOURTH ERA. SKYRIM IS PLUNGED INTO A BITTER CIVIL WAR, WHICH HAS RAGED FOR MANY YEARS. ON ONE SIDE, THE STORMCLOAKS, THE 'TRUE SONS OF SKYRIM', LED BY THE FORMER JARL OF WINDHELM, ULFRIC STORMCLOAK. ON THE OTHER, THE EMPIRE OF CYRODIIL. THIS IS A TALE OF THESE TIMES, AND THE PART THAT ONE SMALL KHAJIIT HAS TO PLAY…
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Pain… this one's head aches. The last thing he remembers is Running into the Stormcloaks, and then the Imperial Guard hitting him on the head, then…nothing.
Sitting up, this one opens his eyes, squinting at the light. It is now full day, but when this one was hit, it was still the dead of night.
"Hey, you, you're finally awake!" Looking around, this one saw a nord, wearing scaled armour and a blue cloak, sitting on the bench opposite him. "You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there…2 he gestured to his left, and this one turned his head. The thief, sitting there scowling, glared at the tall nord. "Damn you Stormcloaks! Skyrim was fine until you came along! The Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I'd've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell. " Turning to this one, the thief, Lokir, continued his ranting. "You there, you and me. We shouldn't be here! It's the Stormcloaks the Empire wants!"
The fair-furred Nord muttered, "We're all brothers in binds now, thief." The Imperial steering the wagon looked over his shoulder and ordered, "Shut up back there!"
As the Guard stared back at the road, Lokir cut his eyes at the man sitting next to this one, and muttered, "What's wrong with him, huh?" The Nord opposite this one snarled, "Watch your mouth! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the TRUE High King!"
Startled, the thief jabbered, "U-Ulfric?! Jarl of Windhelm?! You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you…Oh, gods, where are they taking us?"
"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits." Lokir began rocking on his seat, mumbling over and over, "no, no, no, this can't be happening, this can't be happening…" the Nord sitting next to him elbowed him in the ribs. "Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?"
Blinking in surprise, Lokir asked, "Why do you care?" The blond man looked at him pityingly. "A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."
Lokir sat, a tear slipping down his grimy cheek. "R-Rorikstead. I-I'm from Rorikstead."
As the name of his home burst from his lips, and voice, so clear and bell-like that it rang in the quiet mountain air, reported, "General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!"
A gruffer reply came. "Good, let's get this over with."
Lokir began weeping in earnest. "Shor, Mara, Dibella, Akatosh…Divines, please, help me!"
As we passed through the gate, the big nord grinned sardonically. "Look at him, General Tullius, the 'Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves."
As the cart drew near to the centre of the village, the blond sighed. "This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in…" turning his head, he scowled. "Funny. When I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe." The cart drew to a rumbling halt. "Wait, why are we stopping?" Lokir had snapped out of his despair for a time. The nord snorted. "Why do you think? End of the line." Shunting the poor man ahead of him, he grinned. "Let's go. Shouldn't keep the guards waiting for us." Ignoring all his protests, we lined up in a block, and the Imperial captain smirked at us. "Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time!" the man beside this one sniggered. "Empire loves their damn lists."
"ULFRIC STORMCLOAK, Jarl of Windhelm." The Imperial guard who had driven our wagon called ou.t the gagged man in front of this one stepped forward, followed by the Nord next to this one's call. "It has been an honour, Jarl Ulfric!"
"RALOF OF RIVERWOOD!" The nord next to this one stepped around the quaking thief, and joined the other man, Ulfric, in the line for the most drastic haircut in his life.
"LOKIR OF RORIKSTEAD!" the thief screamed, "NO! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this! He took off running. "ARCHERS!" bellowed the Imperial captain overseeing the executions. The sound of a flight of arrows, like angry hornets, buzzed through the silence. A faint grunt, and then a thud, as the foolish thief's run was cut short.
This one stood firm. He will face his end with the dignity of his people. "Wait. You there." This one looked at him "step forward." When this one complied, he asked, "Who are you?"
"This one has the honour of being named J'Ghasta, the Clawed Beast." The imperial soldier said, "You with one of the trade caravans, Khajiit? You're kind always seems to find trouble." He looked down at his hand, reading the paper he held there. "Captain, what do we do? He's not on the list."
"Forget the list. He goes to the block." The Imperial looked at this one with a shamefaced expression. "I'm sorry. I'll make sure your remains are returned to Elsweyr." This one nods, then walks to his death. The Imperial General, Tullius, stood in front of Jarl Ulfric. "Some in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne." he inclined his head, took a deep breath, and raised his voice. "Now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace!" a roar echoed down from the surrounding mountains. The Thalmor ignored it, and summoned one of the Stormcloak men from the line. As he was forced down onto the block, he spat, "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?"
The headsman raised his heavy, brutal axe, it's edge keen, and, though old, This one could see it was well-cared for. It curved through the air, and struck off the kneeling man's head with a single blow. The captain looked satisfied. Turning back to the line of silent men, she barked, "Next, the cat." This one growled when he heard that. NEVER call a Khajiit a 'cat', not if you like having a throat.
A second roar burned in the sky. When this one stayed put, the captain narrowed he eyes and gritted her teeth. "I said, Next. Prisoner." This one strode forward proudly, twitching his tail then knelt. As the headsman raised his axe a second time, this one saw… with a crashing thump, a "DRAGON!" landed on the tower, and Shouted. The yellow wave of energy threw the headsman down, and arrows flew, snapping in half as they struck the thing's scaled form.
As This one knelt, alone in a cleared space, the thing, once a myth, now, more terrible than any Daedra, glared it's hatred at this one, the Shouted again, and this one saw nothing…
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