Disclaimer: I DO NOT own the gaming franchise Elder Scrolls by Bethesda Game Studios nor am in any way associated with them or their affiliates other than through the purchasing of their products.
Author's Note: Off the bat I have to say: apologies to any fans of my Frost Emblem series, for I was forced to tear it down due to it violating certain policies on . However, despair not, for I do intend on remaking it under the title Frost Emblem: Re-Animation, but it may be some time as I have to now completely redo most of my story's plot. While I work on that, I decided to start this new Fic called Gio Dragonsbane. It's based off the game for PS3/Xbox 360/PC called Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, but will have some major differences, including a little less dungeon-crawling and fewer miscellaneous quests that my heroes will be going on (not to mention the hero himself, who (spoiler alert) isn't even of one of the races found in Skyrim). So, enjoy, leave a Review, Favorite, Follow, and if you haven't already, check out my Fic which is gaining popularity almost as fast as Frost Emblem was (if not faster) called Fossil Fighters II.
Chapter 1: Salvation
I opened my eyes slowly, awakened by the feeling of being jostled around wildly. My vision was bleary, and my body felt weak and numb. I tried to rub my eyes, but found my hands to be roped together.
"Are you awake?" a baritone man's voice said.
My vision cleared, and I could see a bulky man sitting just across from me. He was wearing leather armor died blue, and his light hair fell down just past his shoulders. He was handsome, but I wouldn't say that he had chiseled marble features; more like he'd been hammered out of granite.
I looked around. I was sitting in the back of a wagon, along with the blonde man and two other men. One of them wore similar clothing to the one who'd spoken and also appeared slightly similar, but the other one was scrawny and wore only rags. All of us had our hands bound with ropes.
"Where are we?" I asked hazily in a voice that wasn't quite as deep as the other man's, but it had its own power.
"In the back of an Imperial prison wagon," the man said. "We're prisoners of war."
"I shouldn't even be here!" the scrawny man cried out. "If it weren't for you damned Stormcloaks, I'd've stolen a horse and been halfway to the border by now. Empire was nice and lazy before you showed up."
"Shut up back there," the driver of the wagon said, his accent different from either one of the men's. He was wearing leather armor similar to the two broad men sitting in the back of the wagon with me, but in red.
The two men went silent for a minute, and I looked around. We were headed down a dirt road, with one wagon in front of us and another behind, both of which were filled with other prisoners. The scenery was nice, with tall pine trees lining the road and the occasional fox or deer running about. But, somehow, it felt like the last thing I'd ever see. As if we were headed to our ends.
"What's this guy's problem?" the thief said, nodding towards the man who sat next to me and across from him. He had a cloth muzzle on, and was glowering menacingly at nothing in particular.
"Watch your tongue!" the man across from me scolded. "You speak to Ulfric Stormcloak, true High King of Skyrim."
"Ulfric? Jarl of Windhelm? Leader of the Stormcloaks?"" the thief stuttered. "But if he's here— Oh, gods, where are they taking us?!"
The bulkier man said nothing.
After another minute, he said, "Where do you hale from, horse thief?"
"What's it matter to you, Stormcloak?" he challenged.
"A true Nord's last thoughts should be of home."
"I'm from Rorikstead."
He looked across at me. "What about you? I doubt I'll recognize the name, however. You're the one that was caught crossing the border into Skyrim, were you not? Aye, you have the look of a foreigner, you do. What's your name?"
"Gio," I said. "Gio Dragonsbane."
As I thought about it, that was all that I knew about myself. My name. When I tried to think of what or where my hometown might be, nothing came to mind. I couldn't even guess what my hair or eye color was.
"Gio…Dragonsbane? That's definitely not a Nord name, and if it was Imperial, you wouldn't be here with us now would you?"
I gave no reply.
Up ahead, a wooden stockade wall was coming into view. Its gates were hanging wide open, and several soldiers dressed similarly to the wagon drivers stood protectively along the tops of the walls and at the gates.
"General Tullius," I heard one of the soldiers saying. "The headsman is waiting."
"Headsman?" I heard the horse thief say fearfully. "Gods, what do they intend to do with us? Oh, Divines, help me!"
"General Tullius, the militant leader of the Imperials," the bulky man scoffed. "And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damned elves…"
He paused, taking a deep sniff from the air.
"Ah," he said wistfully. "This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a pretty Imperial lass from here. I wander if Velod still makes that mead with juniper berries." He looked around at the stone and wood walls. "Funny. When I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel safe. But now…"
"Who are they?" I heard a boy's voice ask behind me.
"Get inside the house," a man told him.
"But I wanna watch the soldiers—"
"In the house. Now!"
The wagon clambered down the road a few more meters before coming to a halt in a square. Several people—ordinary villagers and soldiers alike—had gathered around, watching us. I noticed a black, wolfish dog sitting far away from the people as well, watching intently as they.
"Why are we stopping?" the horse thief stammered.
"Why do you think?" the other man said. "It's the end of the line." He looked over at me. "Come on; we shouldn't keep the gods waiting."
One of the soldiers ushered us off the back of the wagon, lining us up before two other soldiers who appeared slightly higher in rank. There was woman, wearing iron as well as red leather with a sword belted at her hip, and a man who wore no helmet that was looking over a list.
"Wait, I'm not a rebel!" the thief said. "Please, you have to tell them that I'm not with you!"
"Face your death with some honor, horse thief."
"Step to the block as we call your names, one at a time," the woman officer said.
"Empire loves their damned lists," the bulky man mumbled, standing behind me.
After glancing at his list, the male officer said, "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm."
"It has been an honor, Jarl," the man behind me said earnestly as the muzzled man walked towards the block where prisoners from the other wagons were gathering at already.
"Ralof of Riverwood," the officer called.
Wordlessly, the man standing behind me followed after Ulfric.
"Lokir of Rorikstead."
"No, I'm not a rebel!" the horse thief insisted, stumbling towards the officers.
"Step to the block, prisoner," the woman officer ordered.
"No, you're not going to kill me!" Lokir said.
He dashed forward, shoving past the two soldiers and sprinting recklessly down the dirt road.
"Archers!" the woman officer ordered as she recovered. Before Lokir the horse thief even made it ten meters, he was made to resemble the world's largest pincushion.
"Anymore of you bastards feel like running?" the officer asked.
Shaking his head, the male soldier turned back to his list, when he seemed to notice me for the first time.
"You there, step forward," he said.
Wordlessly, I complied.
"Who are you?" he said questioningly. "Raven black hair, moon white skin… You don't resemble any of the races of Skyrim."
"Of course not," the woman said. "He's the one we picked up crossing the border into Skyrim."
"Crossing the border into Skyrim? I don't see why anyone would want to come to Skyrim during these dark days." He looked carefully over me. "Well, what do we do with him?"
"He's here now. We might as well send him to the block as well. Better he die here with dignity than out in the wilds to be eaten alive by wolves."
"By your orders, Captain," the man said. Then, to me, "Forgive me, friend. Might you tell us where you hale from, so we may return your remains?"
"No," I said. "I have no memories of who I am or where I am from. All I have is a name."
"A name? And what might that be?"
"Gio Dragonsbane."
The man looked to his captain questioningly. "I don't recognize the origins of that name; do you?"
"It doesn't matter. We'll just give him a funeral here."
"Forgive me," the man said to me. "I hope you find solace in Sovengard. Follow the Captain, prisoner."
The woman officer started towards the block, and I followed behind her without complaint. I was a man of no past, no future; what did it matter if I died at the present?
I stopped beside Ralof, who stood behind the muzzled Ulfric, but the Captain continued forward to stand before all of us along with a clergywoman and an executioner wearing a leather mask and bearing a heavy axe. There were several other soldiers as well, and a man astride a charger and wearing heavy armor. I recognized him as the man that everyone was referring to as General Tullius.
"General Tullius, the prisoners are all ready," the man who'd been reading off the list said.
Tullius was too focused on Ulfric to regard the soldier's comment.
"Ulfric Stormcloak," he said accusingly. "Many people across Skyrim would call you a hero; but heroes don't abuse the power of the Voice to murder their king and usurp his throne!"
Ulfric growled through his muzzle, scowling at the general.
"It was your barbaric actions that started this civil war and has caused so much strife amongst the races of Skyrim. Now the Empire is going to put you down like the dog you are and restore the peace!"
He started to say more, but was caught off by an odd sound in the distance. It was like some sort of a roar, but it was nothing that my limited memory could place. It was like the hunting cry of an eagle, crossed with the powerful shout of a lion and the trumpeting of a fanfare.
"What was that?" soldiers, prisoners, and villagers alike murmured.
"Probably an avalanche," one of the soldiers said unconvincingly.
"Let us carry on," Tullius said, though his tone suggested that he had more to say.
"Of course, General Tullius!" the Captain said. "Give them their last rights."
The clergywoman opened a tome and began reading from it. It was some babble about the "Eight Divines" and "the afterlife," which didn't take much more than a few words for me to lose interest in.
"For the love of Talos, shut up and get this over with!" one of the prisoners said, stepping up to the block.
"As you wish," the clergywoman said indignantly, closing her book and walking away.
"Come on!" the prisoner said in annoyance. "I'ven't got all morning!"
Without ceremony, the Captain pushed him down to his knees and pressed her boot on his back, forcing his neck into a slot in the stone block he was bowed before. The headsman aligned his axe to the man's neck before drawing it back and swinging it heavily down, cleaving the man's head from his shoulders in one clean strike with a spray of blood. With no regard to the man's corpse, the Captain kicked his body aside.
The response from the villagers was mixed, with variations of "You Imperial bastards!" to "Death to the Stormcloaks!" and other more disgusted noises.
"As fearless in death as in life," Ralof said ruefully, looking at the headless corpse.
"Next—you, foreigner!" the Captain said, pointing to me.
I started forward, but stopped when another trumpeting roar sounded off, even louder, or perhaps closer, than the last one.
"Did you hear that?" one of the prisoners said.
"I said next prisoner," the Captain said, acting as though she hadn't heard it at all.
"To the block, Gio," the soldier who'd been reading off the list said.
Without anymore delay, I walked over to the stone block, turning to face it. I didn't give the Captain the chance to shove me to my knees as I bowed down to the stone by my own will.
The executioner drew back his axe, much more hesitant with me than he'd been with the last man. As he raised his weapon of death, another roar, definitely closer than the previous two, thundered down from the clouds, and I caught sight of an immense, dark shape darting across the sky before vanishing behind the tower that we were before.
"What in Oblivion—?" I heard a man cry out in awe.
"Sentries, what is it?!" I heard the Captain call out, seeming frightened.
The executioner gave no regard to his surroundings as he finished drawing back his axe. Just as he was about to swing it don on the back of my neck, the dark creature reappeared, landing on top of the tower heavily enough to knock the executioner over.
"Dragon!" I heard a woman call, and I could hear the sound of swords being drawn from scabbards.
It let out a roar powerful enough to literally rend the skies, a shockwave blasting out from its mouth and blasting everything before it.
I was sent tumbling from the force of the roar, my vision blurry and my ears ringing. I could feel someone shaking me, and I saw Ralof standing above me.
"Come on, we need to go!" he was saying. I noticed that his hands were unbound, unlike mine. "The guards won't give us another chance, and we'll be killed if we stay out in the open like this! Follow me!"
He started toward a different tower, and I followed after him. Looking over my shoulder, I could see the black-scaled monstrosity. Its wings even when folded were great sales that blotted out the sun, and its spiked tail drooped all the way from the top of the tower to the ground. It was loosing firebreath and shockwaves all over, killing anyone caught in the attacks' wake instantly.
I dived into the tower after the light haired man, who quickly slammed shut a heavy wooden door behind us.
"Jarl Ulfric, what is that thing?!" I heard Ralof saying. "The legends…could they be true?"
"Legends don't burn down villages," a new voice that I didn't recognize said, one that hid immense power within it.
I turned and saw Ulfric standing before Ralof, untied and unmuzzled. His hair was slightly darker than Ralof's, and he was by far bigger than he was, but they were still racially similar.
We weren't the only one's hiding within the tower. There were several others, but most of them were severely injured with charred-black skin and mangled limbs and wounds that bled profusely. All of them were quivering and crying out in pain.
"We need to move," Ralof said. "You, foreigner, come with me, up the tower! We need to find a way out of here!"
Not seeing any other options, I complied, following after the man with my hands still bound up a winding staircase.
Just as we made it to a landing, the wall was blown in, the dragon's head appearing inside the tower and blasting flames all over. Ralof and I were forced to hug ourselves against the wall to avoid being burned to a crisp.
The dragon flew away again, and Ralof looked through opening.
"We need to get over there," he said, pointing to a house next to the tower with a large segment of its roof missing. It was a good five meters below us. "You jump; the rest of us will follow when we can. Go, go!"
Not waiting for anymore invitation, I stepped back a little bit to give myself a running start before jumping out through the opening, landing neatly inside the house, rolling to reduce the impact. I continued forward, finding an opening in the floor boards and jumping down to the ground level.
"Get over here, boy!" I heard a soldier ahead of me calling to a child. It was the same soldier who'd been reading off the list.
The boy ran over to the soldier just as the dragon landed on the ground, loosing its firebreath. The boy, as well as I, just made it to cover in time. The dragon didn't stick around long enough to finish us off, taking off to ravage some other part of the village.
"Still alive, Gio?" he asked me. "Stay close to me if you want to stay that way!" He turned to face the other soldier that was with him. "Gunner, get the boy to safety! I'll get the prisoner out of here."
"Godspeed, Hadver," the soldier said.
Without further ado, the soldier started down the road with me in tow. We followed a low stone wall, hugging it close by his order. It was fortunate that we'd done so, as the dragon suddenly landed atop the wall directly above us, loosing a jet of flames. At the close quarters, it almost sounded to me as though its cries were some warbled language.
"Come on!" Hadver ordered, rushing towards a ruined building. "We're almost to the keep!"
We continued through the ruins to another square where several soldiers had gathered. They were all firing arrows at the dragon, and some of them even flames from the palms of their hands, but they weren't doing anything to the beast.
We made way to a second wall, dashing through an overhang and before a small fortress. We started for an entrance to the keep, but were stopped short as Ralof stepped in our path.
"Ralof! Come with us!" Hadver said to the larger man.
"Not a chance, Hadver," Ralof said. "We're getting out of here, and we're not going to let you Imperials capture us again!"
"Whatever, I hope that dragon takes all of you to Sovengard! With me prisoner!"
"Follow me, foreigner," Ralof called in contradiction.
I was left standing there, unsure of whom to go to. I felt that this was a bigger decision than I could know, but couldn't understand why. Suddenly, the dragon landed directly in front of me, its black maw only inches from my face. At the close proximity, I could definitely make out its growls to be some foreign language. In any case, it was blocking my path to Hadver, and I accepted it as fate's decision that I follow Ralof.
I dived after Ralof, narrowly avoiding being snapped up by the dragon. He opened the great door to the keep just wide enough for me to slip through before slamming it shut and barring it off.
"However it is that we're getting out of here," he said, "it's not going to be through there."
We went further into the keep, where we entered a round room with two barred off passages. At the back of the small room was a man dressed similarly to Ralof lying dead on the ground.
Ralof bowed before the corpse, saying, "We'll meet again in the afterlife, brother."
Standing back up, he turned to face me.
"Looks like we're the only ones who made it," he said, panting. "That thing out there was a dragon, no doubt about it. A harbinger of the End Times. We'd better get moving, if we intend on living another day. Come here; let me get those bindings off."
I stepped toward him, and he produced a knife. With one slice he cut the ropes that bound my hands together, and I rolled my wrists that were newly freed but still feeling stiff. They were a little red and I had rope burn from the restraints, but I'd live.
"You may as well take Gunjar's axe and armor," he said. "He won't be needing it, and you're dressed only in rags."
Ralof went over to one of the passages, checking the iron door that blocked it off while I got to work undressing the fallen man. I picked up his war axe first, giving it a couple swings. It felt like a powerful weapon, but was top heavy, and without something to hold in my left hand it felt imbalanced. I tried holding it in two hands, but the shaft was short and the palm of my hand was ground into the weapon's pommel. It'd have to do.
"This one is locked," Ralof stated. "Let me try the other."
He switched to the other side of the room but came to the same results with that door.
"Great," he cursed. "We're trapped in here."
"What do we do now?" I asked, standing up from the fallen rebel soldier. I was still only in rags, but it didn't matter if there was nothing for us to fight.
Ralof started to say something, but stopped as the sound of someone talking loudly could be heard down the hall of the passage he was currently investigating.
"Imperial troops!" Ralof hissed. "Take cover. Maybe we can catch them off guard."
We took cover against the walls on either side of the gate, our axes at the ready. I suddenly felt foolish wearing only rags and no armor, but there was no time to change now.
"Get this damned gate open," a familiar woman's voice ordered.
"Yes, Captain," said a man.
I could hear a switch being thrown, and the gate started to slide up into the ceiling. Holding my breath, I readied myself to pounce on whoever stepped through the passageway.
Raw instinct took over as I saw two red clad soldiers step through. I swung my axe berserkly, its iron biting into the flesh of the woman officer from before. I downed her with one strike, as Ralof did to the man that accompanied her. My breath caught as I thought I recognized Hadver to be the fallen man, but I almost sighed from relief when I realized it was some other man.
"Come on, help me search their bodies," Ralof said. "One of them has to have a key."
Ralof started searching the man's body, leaving me to awkwardly search the woman. I felt like a necrophiliac, groping her body in search of the key, but forgot all about that when I found a skeleton key strung on her hip.
"Ah, you've found the key," Ralof said in relief. "Here, let me see it. I'll unlock the door."
He made a move to retrieve the key from my hand, but I pulled it away from him, leaving him to look at me in confusion.
"What is it that these Imperials did?" I asked.
"What is this?" Ralof asked.
"I want to know why it is that I should trust you and these Stormcloaks over the Imperials," I said firmly. "I don't have a clue about either one of you two, but listening to what they had to say about your great Ulfric, it sounds to me like you Stormcloaks are the wrong side."
"I can explain it later," Ralof insisted. "But while we have this dragon bearing down on us, we can only focus on one thing, and that's to keep moving forward. Now put some armor on and give me that key."
He swiped at it a second time, and this time I allowed him to take it.
While he set to work on the door, I put on Gunjar's cuirass. I considered taking his boots as well, but the Imperial man's leather ones seemed more sturdy than his fur, and I put those on along with the Imperial's arm bracers. I considered taking his helmet, but decided it would only be a hindrance. I took both of their swords and a dagger from the officer, leaving the bulky axe behind. Somehow, a longsword in either hand just felt right. I almost put on his studded leather armor as well, but Ralof said that it would make me look too much like an Imperial and might give any Stormcloaks already inside the wrong idea.
"If you're done," Ralof said as I finished straightening my armor, "we should get moving."
He unlocked the door, leading the way down the hall. We forced to stop however when the ceiling caved in right in front of us.
"Damn dragon's not giving up easily," Ralof said. "Come on, this way."
He opened up a door in the hall, leading into some sort of a break room.
"Grab everything important and let's move," someone said.
"Imperials!" Ralof spat as he spotted two red clad men rummaging through some barrels inside the room.
"Down with Ulfric!" one of them shouted as they drew their swords. Ralof produced his war axe, and I drew my dual blades.
I made it to the men before Ralof, getting first dibs on whom to fight. This time, I took on the inferior soldier while Ralof handled the officer. It turned out that I should've taken the more experienced one, as I twirled my blades, hacking and slashing through the defenseless young soldier while Ralof struggled just to parry his opponent's blows. Seizing the opportunity, I thrust my blade through the officer's back at the same time that I stuck my other blade in the young soldier's throat.
"You're pretty good with the blade," Ralof complimented. He looked around the room. "This seems to be some sort of storeroom. Look around and see if you can't find any sorts of potions. We may need them." He reached down to the fallen Imperials, untying coin purses from their corpses. "Here; your kill, your gold."
He tossed the purses to me and I deftly caught them. I didn't like the feeling of using blood money, but no doubt it would spend just the same as regular gold.
Ralof and I set to work quickly searching the room. We managed to come up with some potions that were colored red, blue, and green, Ralof informing me that they would heal my injuries, restore my magicka, and replenish my energy, respectively. I also came up with some salt and goat cheese and bread, which I would save for eating later.
"Ready? Let's get moving," the Stormcloak said, opening up a different door.
We started down the corridor, now on the other side of the caved-in hall. Ralof prompted me to pick up the pace at the sound of conflict further down the hall.
"Troll's blood," he cursed as we came into a new room. "It's a torture room!"
Inside the room, there were already three Stormcloaks fighting with three Imperials. One of the Imperials was shooting blue energy bolts from his hands, a truly intimidating sight, but not so much so as the headsman and his battle axe that was pushing through a war hammer-wielding Stormcloak defenses with furious attacks.
Ralof backed up the Stormcloak fighting the spell caster while I leant my blades to the man up against the executioner. The two of us synced up perfectly, with him deflecting the large man's attacks while I tore into him with my swords. With only a few graceful flourishes with the Imperial iron, the butchered behemoth fell over. The other Imperials were dead as well.
"Have you seen Ulfric?" Ralof asked the other rebels.
"No," the only woman present said. Her accent was thicker than even the men's. "We haven't seen him since the dragon showed up."
In a separate conversation, the hammer-wielding Stormcloak offered me the executioner's axe.
"Your kill, your loot," he said.
I raised my swords. "I think I'm good. You take it."
The man shrugged, slinging the two heavy weapons over his shoulder as though they weighed nothing. I set to work checking their pockets, but found nothing more than some stray coins. I took the spell caster's clothes however at one of the Stormcloaks' prompting, saying that mage robes were worth a pretty penny.
"Hmm, look at what we've got here," Ralof said, looking into a cage inhabited by a dead mage.
"Don't bother," the woman said. "We can't find the key."
Ralof looked over at me. "Foreigner, why don't you try picking the lock? Here, I've got some picks."
"What do I look like, some kind of thief?" I asked, but I accepted the role of lock picks anyway.
I tried my luck fiddling with the lock, and in only a few seconds, it popped open. I swung the cage the rest of the way open. I found several coins littering the bottom of the cage as well as some potions, but what intrigued me most was the tome inscribed with a lightning bolt.
"Don't bother with that spell book," Ralof said. "Nords don't need to resort to cheap magic."
"I'm not a Nord, either," I said, pushing the book into a satchel I'd found back in the supplies room. I'd read it later.
"Let's move," Ralof said to me, and I realized that the other three blue clad soldiers had already left.
"Right," I said, trotting after Ralof down a moldy hall lined with cramped cells. Most of them were empty, but some of them had skeletons in them.
We reached a second torture room, but this one was empty, save more skeletons and some more recently deceased.
We continued further, reaching a new, more cave-like room with a waterfall in its center. Here, we encountered six more Imperials.
"Down with the Empire!" one of the Stormcloaks cried.
"Death to Ulfric!" the Imperials countered.
Shut up and die, I thought as I carved up a soldier to busy coming up with a battle cry to defend himself. The others seemed to have their opponents under wraps, but Imperials on the other side of the cave were firing arrows at us.
An arrow sprouted from my arm, and I let out a pained cry, dropping my swords. Without thinking, I raised my uninjured arm towards the Imperial who'd shot me, and with only an inkling of what to do, I forced all of my will through the palm of my hand, and a jet of red flames shot from it, engulfing the soldier.
I plucked the arrow from my arm and retrieved a longbow from one of the fallen Imperials, firing the reused arrow at another soldier. It connected with his chest with a satisfying thump and he dropped dead.
"This room is cleared," one of the Stormcloaks said. "I think I see an exit from in here. Will you be joining us, Ralof?"
"No," he said. "My friend and I will continue forward. Foreigner, why don't you collect some arrows so you can use that bow?"
I had originally intended to just discard the bow, but I supposed that it could have its uses later on and slung it over my shoulder along with a quiver of thirty or so iron-headed arrows. The other rebels forged their own path through the cave while I followed Ralof down the beaten road and further into the keep that was steadily growing more crude.
We came to a raised drawbridge, a lever on the ground near it.
"Let's see what this does," Ralof said, fearlessly flipping the switch. In response, the drawbridge lowered, creating a path for us that lead into a completely untamed cave. As we walked into it, the ground trembled under our feet and I could hear the dragon roaring outside and something crumbling behind us.
"No going back that way," Ralof decided as we turned to see that the ceiling had caved in, destroying the bridge.
"Fate has chosen our path," I said. "Forward."
Ralof lead us through the cavern at a steady pace, following a little stream of water. It went on for several meters before slipping away underneath a solid wall of stone.
"No going this way." Ralof turned to an alternate path. "This'll have to do."
We moved on down the natural corridor to a large opening in the cavern, but it felt anything but victorious as it was filled with huge spider webs and egg sacs.
"Damn, we've wandered into a frostbite spider nest!" Ralof cursed, producing his war axe.
I drew my swords as well at the sight of several hideous, oversized arachnids sliding down from the ceiling on silky threads. We both hesitated for moment too long, as the spiders spat amorphous orbs at us that we barely managed to parry away.
I targeted a trio of the smaller spiders while I left Ralof with the larger one. Fighting the spiders turned out to be easy despite how terrifyingly ugly they were, as all they knew how to do was spit and lunge. It took all of fifteen seconds to kill the last of them off and to milk some venom from their shriveled up carcasses.
"Man, I hate those things," Ralof said with a shiver as we continued along. "Too many eyes, you know?"
I said nothing as we found the stream again, along with a rundown little bridge over the stream and a merchant's cart that's only companion was a bleached-white skeleton.
"Hold it!" Ralof whispered franticly, ducking down. "There's a bear just up ahead."
I followed his gaze, spotting the creature he was talking about. The brown-furred beast seemed relaxed enough, but then again it also didn't seem to have noticed s ye either.
"It'd be foolish to take her on in a fight right now with our poor gear," he said. "We should just try and sneak by her for now. Or, if you're feeling lucky, you can try out your marksmanship with that bow. You might get lucky and take her by surprise."
I chose the latter, producing my bow and notching an arrow in it. I let the arrow fly, and it connected solidly with the beast. However, this didn't seem to affect it as it stood up, sniffing around for the source of the arrow. I let fly another one, this time killing it.
"Eh, sneaking's overrated anyway," Ralof said. "Go retrieve your arrows."
We continued through the cavern. We were at the ready the whole way, but nothing else happened. After we rounded a bend, I could see light, and Ralof was overjoyed.
"That must be the exit!" he exclaimed. "I knew we'd make it!"
Sheathing our weapons, we dashed for the exit, welcoming the icy kiss of the air outside. The wintery pines seemed oddly beautiful in the afternoon light, almost like how it is when you have a near death experience and suddenly you're just grateful to be alive and everything suddenly seems so much better than what it is.
"We've made it," Ralof said with relief.
That relief was quickly foregone however at the sound of a roar.
"Get down!" Ralof shouted, taking cover behind a rock.
I didn't bother. Somehow I knew that the dragon wouldn't see us, and even if it did it wouldn't cause us any trouble. Sure enough, the ebon scaled beast flew right by, soaring for the mountains.
"Ironic, isn't it?" the man said. "Dragons are considered the harbingers of death, and yet that one, intentionally or not, saved us."
I said nothing, something that I found myself skilled in doing. Ralof was treating this as a blessing. But I wasn't so sure. Somehow, I felt that this was the prelude to something much more.
But who was I to say? I was but a man with no past, no future, only present. I didn't even know what color my damn eyes were.
Author's Note: Egad! Man, that was startlingly painful. Did you know that this chapter has more than six thousand words and is fourteen pages long? That's a new personal record. I spent a full three days writing this (though of course not with much dedication). But, I'm happy with I've come up with. Anyway, credit also goes to YouTubers TheRadBrad and Ghost Robo for their awesome (though largely noob-ish) walkthroughs on Skyrim. I myself am playing the game, of course, but I can't remember all of the details to this seemingly never ending game, so I was pretty much writing in time to their episodes on this. Anyways, knowing just how long I've spent on this and how many muscles I've pulled writing it, please be sure to Favorite, Follow, and Review. I'll get to work on a second chapter right away, but the Fun Fact will explain why that I might be bullshitting you on that.
Fun Fact: It was 4:30 in the morning when I finished and posted this. In the god forsaken morning. You kids better drop some awesome Reviews and plenty of Favs.