Hey there, folks, WeisseTod here, with a Skyrim story in the works. I won't bore you with a long description, so let's get right to it!
The carriage's movement is what ended up waking Lona-Ku. With the sound of the wheels and horses, as well as moving from the bumpy road, he couldn't keep unconscious for long. He still remained in a state of semi-consciousness. Within seconds, though, he tried to move, and found it difficult.
Are... are my hands tied? What's going on?
"Hey, you."
Lona-Ku jolted his head upwards, to see a Nord sitting across from him, in chain-mail armor. It was quite the contrast to the rags he was wearing. Where had his clothes gone?
"You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right?" The prisoner (for that seemed correct to him now,) thought about his situation for a second, then answered. "Yes." He was trying to get into Skyrim, as he had heard that he might be able to get a job in Riften.
The armored Nord gave a short chuckle. "Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us. And that thief over there," he added as he jerked his head to his left, towards another Nord, in rags similar to his own. Lona-Ku looked over to the thief, and back to the other Nord. "Why were you ambushed?"
He began to respond, but the other man decided to pick this as the time to interject. "Damned Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along; Empire was nice and lazy." Lona-Ku was unfamiliar with that term. Were Stormcloaks some new faction? They seemed to pop up by the dozens, these days. "If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell." He then looked from the other Nord to Lona-Ku. "You there, you and me. We shouldn't be here! It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."
Lona-Ku nodded. "I didn't do anything. Why am I here?"
He ended up being ignored, apparently the thief was more self-centered than his statement made him seem. In any case, the armored man replied. "We're all brothers in binds now, thief." He also gave a look to Lona-Ku, seeming to say the same thing with the look on his face. And he was right, in a way. Even though he was only crossing the border, he had still been captured like the rest of these men.
"Shut up back there!" The Imperial driver shouted, still looking down the road. He was immediately ignored, as the horse thief looked to the third Nord in the carriage, who appeared to be a nobleman of some sort. He was gagged, unlike the others. "What's wrong with him, huh?" Lona-Ku looked to the bearded man for an answer, and an answer he got.
"Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!" Lona-Ku just managed to look more confused. So the Stormcloaks were a family of sorts? Were they all criminals? He regretted not speaking with any Khajitt caravans in his travels; they tended to pass through every province in Tamriel. Hopefully, he'd get some explanation soon. Still, it never hurts to ask. "Who is that?"
The thief looked between Lona-Ku and Ulfric. "Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm?" Then, in a more fearful voice, he realized, "You're the leader of the rebellion! But if they've captured you, then..." Lona-Ku remained silent. At least he had some more information. The Stormcloaks were a rebellion of some sort. Come to think of it, he had heard of a civil war in Skyrim while he was in the remains of Morrowind. This was probably part of that very war. He hung his head a little, realizing what was probably going to happen to him. He caught a sympathetic look from the other Stormcloak. "Despair not, friend. Rejoice," he said in a quiet voice.
The thief didn't seem to hear him. "...Oh, gods, where are they taking us?"
"I don't know where we're going, but Savngarde awaits." Now, Savngarde, Lona-Ku knew a little about. The statement ended up sealing things for him. He was going to his own execution. He wasn't entirely sure how to react, so he just stuck with silence for now.
"No, this can't be happening, this isn't happening!" the thief started to break down. Lona-Ku was seconds away from doing the same, when the ungagged Stormcloak spoke up. "Hey. What village are you from, horse thief?"
The thief looked towards the speaker, tears in his eyes. "Why do you care?" he asked. His tone of voice was almost pathetic.
"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home." On that, the thief seemed to calm down, if only a little. "...Rorikstead. I'm... I'm from Rorikstead."
The Stormcloak then turned to Lona-Ku. "And you, Argonian? Where are you from?"
Lona-Ku looked up. "My name is Lona-Ku Footpad. And... I don't really come from anywhere."
"A wanderer, eh?" He gave a smile. "Bad time to come to Skyrim." After a moment, he added. "You have given us your name, I will give mine. I am Ralof."
The thief gave a deep breath. "Lokir," he said, before withdrawing to himself.
Lona-Ku heard some chatter among the Imperials as they came to a city wall. The only words he could hear well were "Tullius" and "headsman." Not very reassuring, he thought.
Lokir started to mutter to himself. "Shor. Mara. Dibella. Kynareth. Akatosh. Divines, please help me." Lona-Ku couldn't help but snort a little. "The nine won't help you here, Lokir. Might as well accept it." And now the Argonian had decided on cynicism and a brutal acceptance of his fate. Oh well, better than other reactions.
Ralof was busy looking at the Imperial on the wall. "Look at him. General Tullius, the military governor! And it looks like the Thalmor are with him." Lona-Ku tried to look back around to see the high elves, but they'd already gone too far along.
"Damned elves. I bet they had something to do with this." Lona-Ku gave a silent agreement. If it weren't for the Aldmeri, he'd have been able to safely travel the roads of Cyrodiil, and perhaps visit the ruins of Kvatch.
Ralof's attitude soon changed, and he gave a wistful sigh. "This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilad is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in." Lona-Ku gave a throaty chuckle at that. "I had meant to try some of Skyrim's finest mead when I found a town. Shame, that."
The Stormcloak chuckled at that, as well, before moving to another reflective voice. "Funny. When I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe." The Argonian didn't share that belief. Imperials had always disliked him. Whether for his race or his nomad nature, he didn't know. Nor did he care, especially not now.
Lona-Ku heard a child talking with his father, and cringed a little, though both he and Ralof relaxed when the boy went inside his family's house. "Children shouldn't have to see something like this," he said, and the Stormcloak nodded.
Then the voice of who seemed to be the leader of these Imperials materialized. "Get these prisoners out of the carts! Move it!" Still more finality dawned upon the wanderer. He was leaving the carriage. Only one place to go now.
"Why are we stopping?" Lokir spoke up for the first time since his little prayer, and Lona-Ku sighed. Ralof voiced his thoughts. "Why do you think? End of the line." He turned to he Argonian. "Let's go, friend. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us." He nodded, and stood up to disembark.
Lokir started to get desperate. "No, wait! We're not rebels!"
Ralof rolled his eyes at that. "Face your death with some courage, thief." Lona-Ku just looked at the thief with an incredulous look. They were all going to die here, so what was the point of pleading? Lokir, however, didn't listen, and looked at the Stormcloak, wide-eyed. "You've got to tell them; we weren't with you! This is a mistake!"
"Step towards the block when we call your name! One at a time!" the Imperial captain shouted. Lona-Ku heard his friend muttering about lists as he stepped out of the carriage.
The man beside the captain said the first name. "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." The gagged nobleman stepped forward, as Ralof praised him. Lona-Ku didn't pay attention.
"Ralof of Riverwood." The armored Stormcloak stepped forward, with a proud and straight posture. Or at least, as straight as possible with bound hands.
"Lokir of Rorikstead." The thief was not so proud. He blindly stepped toward the captain. "No, I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" Immediately afterward, Lokir made a mad dash, despite the captain's warning. She called for archers, who easily put an arrow into the fleeing Nord's back. And there it went, Lona-Ku's last hope of some form of escape.
"Anyone else feel like running?" The Argonian had to admit, he did feel like running. But an arrow in his back was more painful than a simple decapitation, so he didn't.
"Wait!" The man who had been reading off names cried out, looking straight at Lona-Ku. "You there, step forward." Not seeing any other option, the wanderer did so.
"Who are you?" Lona-Ku gave an inaudible gulp. "Lona-Ku Footpad, sir."
"Are you a relative of one of the Riften dock workers, Argonian?" He shook his head, and the man turned to the leader. "Captain. What should we do? He's not on the list." Lona-Ku, for a split second, felt a bit of hope. Was he going to be let go? Was this really just a misunderstanding?
"Forget the list. He goes to the block." And there it went again. The Argonian glared and gave a low growl at the captain. He didn't even get a sneer in return, so he just looked back to the man who had given him a chance.
"By your orders, Captain," he said. Then, to the Argonian, "I'm sorry. We'll deliver your remains to your next of kin in the Black Marsh." Lona-Ku almost laughed at that. What next of kin? He had no family, he'd been wandering for his whole adult life. He'd abandoned the Hist long ago. "Follow the captain, prisoner." The armored woman walked up to the block, and the traveler followed. He stopped in time to see that Imperial from the wall talking to Ulfric, but he didn't listen to that. What he did end up listening to, was the noise. It sounded like some sort of roar.
The noise ended up being ignored. The captain told a nearby priestess to give the prisoners their last rites. She began with "As we commend your souls to Etherius, blessings of the Eight Div-" another Nord in Stormcloak armor stepped forward to the block, interrupting with "For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!"
The priestess was dumbstruck, but responded with "If that is what you wish."
The captain seemed to be shocked as well, because she hesitated before pushing the man to his knees. This provoked him to continue with "Come on! I haven't got all morning!" As he fell to the block, he gave yet another quip. "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" It all ended up fruitless, though, as his head was still chopped off. The Argonian heard some cries from a few observers, but the most noteworthy came from Ralof:
"As fearless in death as he was in life."
And then, something much worse: "Next, the lizard!" Lona-Ku gave another, very audible growl upon being called that. He hated that term. He was a person, not some lizard.
And then that noise again. Everyone paused at it, like before. A guard tried to call the captain's attention to it, but she brushed it off and called for the Argonian to step to the block.
Lona-Ku tried to keep a proud step as he walked to his death, but only partially succeeded. He was slow, but steady. It wasn't long before he was at the block. They hadn't even bothered to move the first man's corpse. As he was pushed to his knees, he got the pleasant sight of the back of a severed head.
He was pushed so that his neck was in the spot for the headsman's axe. This is it, he thought, I'm going to die. And for no good reason.
Of course, anyone who's played Skyrim knows what happens next. I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, please give honest reviews and criticism.