It had all happened so fast.
One minute, I lied in a makeshift camp. I was going home, back to Skyrim, back to Riften and my mother's cheap ale.
The next, I find myself in a cart heading towards death. But no, not just me. 3 strangers had been captured with me.
One, a blonde headed man with a hard looks of himself, the next a scrawny man with a mean look about him. And finally, a Jarl.
Or whom I believe to be a Jarl, by the way his clothes are finely shaped and the way he stood before being beaten into submission
as I had.
"Are you awake yet?" The blonde man asked, and I nodded in stony silence. He looked back at me with a hard glare, as if he didn't know that him and his team of milk drinkers were the reason I was in this mess with them. "I thought they had beaten you too badly, like they did Ulfric."
He looked towards the now-official Jarl the same time I did. Was I really in a cart with a Jarl? Or was this still a dead dream?
"Where are they taking us?" The scrawny man demanded, "Me and her, we don't belong here with you Stormcloaks!" As much as I hated his timid voice, he had a point. I surely wasn't meant to be in a mess with these idiots. But as I was about to make a retort, the cart stopped. I looked around the city, And with a sickening realization, I knew this town. Helgen.
"Alright, Prisoners! Get out into the clearing!" A harsh voice called out. A tanned skinned woman in silver and red armor glared at us as we all left the safety of the cart. I could see a small crowd drawing near. What, did they expect a show? To watch me beg for mercy as I watched the axe rise and fall?
Ha! I wasn't going to give them such entertainment. Slowly, one by one, they called everyone towards the chopping block, until my carriage remained.
"Ralof of Riverwood." A middle aged man called. The blonde man I rode with step forward, and what? Were those..tears in his eyes? Surely that was a bead of sweat. The scrawny man came next, and attempted to run. I nearly winced when I saw the arrow shoot through his body, the poor fool. Who can outrun an arrow?
"Wait, you." The imperial called at me, "Step forward." I gave a snort as I stepped towards them, earning a glare from the woman. "Who..are you?"
I looked downwards at myself. I had a stocky Nord body, as I was meant to be. My brown hair barely touched my shoulders as I looked at them with my dark eyes. My skin, pale and smooth. And my ancestral face paint below and above my eye, an old symbol of my family name.
"My name is Canis."