Earthlings! This is my new story based on the awesomeness and epic game of Skyrim. I have ported in my favorite character I have created along with a few OCs. This will not be a long story (in my opinion, others say I write extremely long for so few pages) but either way, this is the beginning of a hero that is more lost than a fish in frying pan.

...SHUT UP IT WAS FUNNY!

Enjoy(:

Dragonborn Leira

Chapter 1: Helgen

Pitter patter of hooves were sounding through the air like a drum on the battlefield. Clomping on the cold hard ground crunching dirt and stone beneath mighty weights. Although these sounds were heard, nothing was seen. Blackness surrounded a fragile woman. Her form was poorly wrapped in tattered cloth. Her small petite body could barely hold in warmth as it shivered. She was slowly regained eyes had a hard time adjusting tithe light and her surroundings. She had no marks of age nor any scars. She barely looked the age of twenty.
Finally opening her eyes fully she viewed the world of Skyrim before her.
Trees swaying with the invisible wind, plants dying away with the coming winter. Snow laid in several patches on the dead grass. She shifted her gaze and realized she was bound. Ropes tied her hands together. They were so tight her wrists were red from agitation and rubbing. She sat in a wooden carriage being drug by large muscular work horses being lead by Imperial soldiers. "Hey, you. You're finally awake."
The woman peered across from her and locked eyes with a pair of brown ones. A burly man with blonde hair and beard stared at her. Braids formed a frame around his face and displayed how rugged it looked.
"You were the one who tried to cross the border. Walked right into that Imperial ambush like us and that thief over there."
At the mention of the ambush the girl tried to clutch her head with her bound hands. Her head ached and throbbed as a memory poked through her mind.
'Muscle flexing, lungs drying, her voice cracked. The poor woman was running. Her fear forced her to keep moving, to avoid whatever was behind her. She was sprinting so blindly her turquoise tunic was ripping with every snag it made contact with. Her breathing was desperate. With each suck of air she felt the rawness of her vocal cords stricken by the frigid wind of winter.
During her trial of escape she had lost her footing and fallen down a steep slope into a valley. Snow dampened her clothes and scratches marred parts of her body.
Lethargy took over her body as she went in and out of consciousness. When she finally lost her awareness, she laid in the snow.
She awoke to the sound of clanging metal. Lifting herself from the now wet ground she viewed a battle in play. Imperial soldiers were colliding blades with men and women wearing blue tunics and brown leather armor. The blue troops were losing men fast. They were all surrounded by the Imperials.
As the woman searched her surroundings she spotted one large and tall man. He had six soldiers about him at the ready to attack. But they didn't. Why the hesitation? They held their weapons pointed at him while he had his sword tip down. He looked up at the imperials and they shrunk away at his gaze.
He slowly opened his mouth and the woman felt herself being flung into the air.'
That was all she remembered. Nothing before hand about her past. Just that and a name.
Her head began to gain reality back when a soldier got impatient. "Shut up back there!"
The thief dropped his head in guilt and shifted his gaze to another man on the wagon. "What's wrong with him?" he asked towards anyone who could answer.
The woman couldn't see the face of the desolate man at the end. He refused to show himself and preferred to look at the ground.
The yellow haired man suddenly got angered and lashed out at the thief. "Watch your tongue! That's Ulfric Stormcloak your are talking to. The true high king!" he said proudly.
The thief took on a look of shock. Returning to peer at Ulfric he began shaking. "Ulfric Stormcloak? If they have you then..." his eyes widened at his own realization. "Oh gods, where are they taking us?" the woman wondered that also. 'Jail? The main city in Skyrim? Where ARE they taking all of us?' she thought.
The blonde now dropped his head. "I don't know where they are taking us. But Sovngarde awaits us."
The woman began panicking as the clues clicked. They were going to be executed. Had she done something so horrible to be killed for it?
She went to look at any of the soldiers to ask a question of escape and found her eyes staring into a pair of green. Ulfric was looking at her. He had a saddened expression plastered on him. He couldn't speak, for the girl saw he was gagged. She wondered why.
Then she made the connection. He was the man in her memory flash. He spoke something to cause her to fly and be knocked unconscious in the midst of the battle.
He must've seen her eyes change at her epiphany and closed his eyes in what seemed like shame. He turned his attention back to the more interesting road.
The woman didn't know what to think. She felt anger and depressed at her circumstances because of him but she also felt he didn't mean it and regretted getting her involved. The woman wanted to cry at her situation and confusion.
The wagon began to take a sharp turn to the left as the female felt her body leaning forward to balance herself on the swerve.
Before the prisoners was two large wooden gates creaking open to reveal a village in stone and log. Imperials were posted everywhere.
Down an alley were a few horsemen. One man in particular carried a certain ire about him. He commanded soldiers to take post and other duties. She heard the name, General Tulius, mentioned by a guard.
The blonde Stormcloak's mood descended. He suddenly became depressed and downcast. The woman listened to his tales of this place. She wished she could reminisce about a place that brought happiness to her, if she could only remember.
The Stormcloak then began talking of his different feelings now. He stuttered that he used to feel safe inside these walls of stone. But now he doesn't feel safe at all. There were families pushing into their homes children and some themselves joined in not being outside. All had the look of foreboding on their faces. This place. This place held much fear and dark reality. This place called, Helgen.
The wagon came to an abrupt stop with a slight jerk. The girl heard another woman's voice over the crowd. It held command and demanded respect. It was loud but she was not yelling. That's how much projection she could muster in her voice. "Each prisoner come out of the carriage and line up. One by one." she commanded.
The horse thief started spazzing. He denied any involvement with the rebels and begged to be released. The young woman didn't blame him. She in fact wanted to join in his testimony but couldn't gather enough courage to speak. Her voice was frozen with fear. It worsened when she looked around and saw multiple prisoners had the same emotion plastered on their visage.
Now a man's deep voice hovered over. The woman came to look upon a soldier with a list and pen in his hands. It's funny, how they didn't seem to belong in his palms. His hands were sturdy and thick with battle experience. A sword would be a better fit to be in his hands. He would peer at his list every once in a while checking to see if the same number of people were on the paper.
The booming voice of the woman was heard and the young female found her. She seemed redguard heritage with her darkened skin. She wore thick and clean steel armor with a defined helmet. "Once your name is read off step towards the block. Slowly."
The list man took a glance at his paper and looked up. The girl could hear several prisoners gulp down fear. "Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm."
The woman watched as the rebel leader took brave steps
towards the block.
The soldier with paper and pen announces another name. "Ralof of Riverwood."
Now the blonde Stormcloak took his leave to the others at the block.
"Toldir of Roikstead." the horse thief jumped at his name and began running, yelling he wasn't a rebel.
The redguard woman shouted, "Halt!" though once she realized that was useless she turned her gaze to posted archers.
'They'll shoot him!"
"Archers!" the older woman said. With that alone they fired. The poor man's last words were a pain stricken cry.
"Anyone else want to try to escape?!" taunted the darker female with anger in her words.
The list man then spoke. "Wait, you. Step forward."
He was referring to her. She shook. Her body was quivering, sweat began to bead down her face as stress rose in her being. She almost took off running herself, but stopped herself thinking of an image of her dead body stuck with arrows, blood dripping out of her.
She took the first few steps towards the redguard and the list man. She stopped when she was just ahead of the other prisoners to distinguish herself from the others. The list man stared at her in puzzlement. "Who are you?" he asked.
Opening her mouth she wished for words to form but all that came out was air. Her jaw was stiff with horror. She was frantic and scared. What if she said the wrong thing and they killed her there? Would she ever recover her memory?
The redguard woman looked impatient so the girl forced words to come out. "I...I'm Leira. I have no idea how I've come to be in Skyrim. I-I don't even have remembrance of anything. Just that I'm from Cyrodil." she was going to say more but saw how futile it seemed. Only the list man was listening to her story.
The imperial soldier with the list of names peered at the young woman with a saddened look, as if he believed her.
He saw how she had the imperial form. Small and petite but slightly athletic. Her red hair was bright like spilled blood. It was held back in a pony tail with strands of her bangs hanging on the side of her face framing it. Though she was in pitiful rags for clothing he took note of her muscular legs. 'Must run good.' he thought.
He peered down at his list and saw her name nowhere on it. "Long way from home, aren't you?"
He looked over towards the redguard woman who currently had her arms crossed. "Captain. What should we do? She's not on the list." he mentioned to her.
The captain turned her glance to Leira and leered at her. Leira flinched at her stare and cowered at it's intensity. The captain snickered at her actions. "Forget the list. She goes to the block."
Leira's heart lodged itself in her throat. She's still going to die in the end. Tears began to appear at the rim of her eyelids. She wouldn't let them fall though, show them how much of a coward she really was.
"I am sorry, Imperial. We will make sure your remains get returned to Cyrodil."
'But who would receive them?' Leira thought depressed.
She slowly made her way to the block where everyone whose name was called. Leira wasn't stupid. Where she was heading she knew no one returns. She knew what the block was. It was the Executioner's chopping block. Prisoners were lined up in sloppy fashions. An imperial with golden armor and graying hair stood to the side leering at Ulfric Stormcloak. He had his arms crossed and never took his eyes off of Ulfric. When Leira joined the doomed prisoners, the man was taunting Ulfric with tales of his deeds. Leira watched but didn't really pay attention. She was still getting over the shock that she was sentenced to death.
Suddenly when the argumentative imperial almost got too heated a sound resonated through the air. It didn't sound familiar but it was a noticeable noise. Everyone began searching for the source. Leira thought that it was far off, whatever it was.
The redguard captain took her position between the imperial man and a priestess of Arkay. She did not seem fazed by the unknown origin if that sound."General Tulius, sir. We are ready." she relayed.
The graying man turned to face the captain. "Good." he stated.
He gave Ulfric one last glance of hatred before taking a few steps back. "Read them their final rights." he commanded.
The priestess of Arkay then began preaching words of Arkay to prepare them for their death.
She barely spoke two sentences before she was interrupted by another Stormcloak, Leira had not taken notice of. He practically offered himself to die first by walking up there and taunted the imperials cause by mentioning Talos. Everyone of the imperials were quickly agitated by this man's actions. The captain forcly pushed the man down on his knees. She then made him bend over the stained slab of rock that was referred to as the block. The executioner wore a traditional black mask to conceal his face, with some leather clothing. The most intimidating feature was his arms. They were exposed showin off his scars and huge muscles. He lofted his large axe in the air. But before it fell the Storcloak had last words to say.
"My ancestors are smiling on me imperials. Can you say the same?" With that the blade came down on his neck. A painless death. The only sound was of the flesh tearing and his head rolling into a basket. Blood spurted out of his vacant shoulders dripping down to the ground.
The captain rolled the body off. She never flinched. She didn't even blink. Leira could never understand how you could get used to killing, let alone watch it.
"Next! The renegade from Cyrodil!" shouted the redguard woman.
Leira paled. It was her. She was the renegade they spoke of. Why so soon? Was her supposed crime worse than the others? Stress rose in her being and her body stiffened in fear. She was about to faint when a hand laid itself upon her shoulder.
She whirled herself to the right of her where the large hand was. The list man placed it there. He had an expression that spoke, 'I'm so sorry.' he had a definate frown upon his face and his eyes never departed from hers. "You are very brave to still be able to go through with this young lass. But you must go forward and face what lies ahead. I'm sorry."
Leira almost began to cry, but refused to shed any. They already knew she was weak and she didn't want to worsen it.
*ROOAR*
The sound came again. Though this time it was much louder.
Which meant is was closer.
Soldiers now searched the skies as if it held the answer. "What was that?" spoke the list man.
The captain didn't much care it seemed. "Nevermind that. Get her to the block."
Leira approached the captain and was turned away from her. She was knelt down and her face was forced onto the bloodied rock chunk. it smelled of metal and of grime from previous kills. Leira looked up into her death-dealer's face. It held no emotion, nothing. Blank eyes stared back. His hands gripped his axe as he began to raise it. Leira didn't wish to see her end so she fixed her eyes on the mountains and forest behind the tower that stood behind the executioner.
The sound came again but it wasn't muffled. It was clear and crisp and Leira saw where it came from. A mythical beast came down from the mountain and flew above screeching. Leira heard the fear and chaos begin behind her.
"What in Oblivion is that?!"
It landed on the stone building ahead of her. Rubble fell from it's landing and toppled over the executioner, dropping his blade. Gold piercing eyes found her purple ones. In all of the screams and turmoil one word could be distinguished.
"DRAGON!"