This is my first story on this site. The basic (admittedly weird idea) is the story of Skyrim told through the view of the player characters of my favorite game "Planescape Torment." Odd idea I know, and since this is my first story on this site, feel free to leave any criticism or ideas for how you think the story can improve.

Skyrim and all its characters are owned by Bethesda, and Planescape Torment Enhanced Edition and all its characters are owned by Beamdog

You slowly open your eyelids. The last thing you remember is you tried to cross the border and now… a skull in a cage.

"Hey chief, you okay? You playing corpse or you putting the blinds on the Imps? Heh, I thought you were a deader for sure?"

"Wh.. who are you," you stammer out.

"Don't see the point in saying that here chief. The way I see it, no point in making acquaintances on death's door."

"Death's door? What the hell are you talking about?"

I'm talking about you. Me, I've already kicked the bucket. But you? Seems you've still got some life left in you. Though I can't imagine how, given all those scars you've got. They really did a number on you, huh chief?"

Unable to deal with the shock of a talking skull chatting like it was a regular everyday thing, you stand up to move, only to find your hands bound. Looking around, you suddenly recognize you're on one of what appear to be several carts carting through a forest. Turning away from the anomaly of the chatting head, you find two other "passengers." One a man in rags looking at you and the skull with understandable confusion. The other is dressed in an impressive fur coat with a gag over his mouth. You get a sense of déjà vu staring at him.

"Damn you stormcloaks," the man in rags says to the skull. "Skyrim was fine until you came along. The Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell."

The man looks at you, grimacing at your admittedly grotesque body but making an attempt to plead nonetheless. "You there. You and me – we shouldn't be here. It's these stormcloaks the Empire wants."

"Stormcloak?" The skull looks incredulously at the thief (at least you think it's incredulous. It's understandably difficult with no facial expression except the eyelids) and then bursts out laughing. "Do I look like a Stormcloak to you berk?"

"Well, uh-"

"Because I can totally see myself out there swinging a big fancy sword with my arms. Which I don't have!"

"But they found you with these traitors."

"That don't make me a Stormcloak berk! I got no more allegiances in this world than you! Hey chief. Chief!" The skull stares at you. "Do I look like a big macho Stormcloak to you? Do I?"

Even with the countless odd scenarios you've experienced in your life, you must admit this is a new one. Being asked point blank by a talking skull if he looks anything like muscular boasting men. Looking at the thief, you can see he's befuddled by this too.

"Uh.."

"Shut up back there," the cart driver says.

"See?" Morte grins (aka looks) at the thief. "Not a Stormcloak."

"Then why were you with them?"

"I was a prisoner. Well I suppose I still am. Except I was a prisoner to them. Being delivered to that guy." He nods at the man with the gag over his mouth.

"Wait," the thief mutters his eyes widening in realization and shock. "You… you're him! Ulfric Stormcloak himself!"

"Yep. Old stormy reckoned he'd bagged a big catch. Enough to come out of hiding. Got bagged himself," the skull snickered.

"The leader of the Rebellion. But if they've captured you. Oh god! Where are they taking us?"

"Where do you think?" The head bobs, which you take to be as a shrug. "Probably off to Sovngarde or wherever they go when they die. You though," looking at the thief, "doubt you'll be so lucky."

"How can you be so calm about this!? They'll behead us!"

The skull gives another look of are you kidding me? "What're they gonna behead? If they can find my neck they're welcome to it. But I can't find it anywhere. On account of being dead and all. You should try it." He grins at you. "You're at least halfway there."

You give him the dead eye then turn to see you've arrived at a village.

"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!"

"Good let's get this over with." On a bridge, you're about to pass under, you see an elderly well-cropped man in armor glaring down at the prisoners. He looks at your cart frowning at the sight of Ulfric Stormcloak then noticing you and giving an expression of immense shock. It would have been funny if you weren't at death's door.

The thief meanwhile started barking out some names of people or deities you didn't recognize. You notice besides the general are a group of green-skinned people with pointy ears.

"Oh joy, the Thalmor. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this."

The skull turns away from the Thalmor and looks about wistfully.

"Ah Helgen. You know when I was alive I was quite a hit with the ladies. Wonder if Vilad is still making that mead with the Juniper berries. Oh Vilad. When you die, please come back with skin."

While the skull presumably drools (or tries to. No water when you're dead) you notice a boy questioning his parents about the prisoners. Well, specifically about you.

"Who's that daddy," he points at you. "Who's that man with the scars."

His father shoos him inside looking at your body in horror and disgust. You frown. Let him have the kind of life you've had and not get this beat up!

Next thing you know the carts have stopped. The thief looks about in fear.

"What's happening? Why have we stopped?"

"Why do you think," the skull grins. "End of the line."

You notice in the other cart the prisoners marching out. You sigh. "Might as well go. Don't want to keep the gods waiting for us."

The skull smiles (presumably, it's hard to tell. You just assume that he's making that expression and that's that). "That's the spirit chief. Go out with a smile. Besides I think you'll agree. Skin and you don't agree. Come on now, the headsman's waiting."

A soldier picks up the cage containing the skull. You and your fellow passengers step out. Ulfric in silence, the thief begging.

"No wait! We're not rebels!"

"Relax thief. It ain't so bad," the skull calls out from his cage. "A quick swipe and then no more need to steal horses. "Great, right?"

"No! This can't be happening! I'm not a Stormcloak. I'm not!"

At this the thief takes off like a bucking bronco. It's actually somewhat humerous you think to yourself until he gets shot in the back with an arrow.

"Wah wah wah." The skull chants.

"Anyone else?" Calls out a woman in armor.

"Hail stranger." A quiet and somber voice calls to you. An elf in a loose-fitting orange tunic distinctive from the imperial armor that adorns the rest of the soldiers stares at you. In his hands, he holds a list of names supposedly for the prisoners.

"Come forward," he beckons. "Who are you?"

You stare at him intensely. For some reason, he looks very familiar. You've seen Thalmor before. Or at least you think so. You suddenly notice at his side…

"Who are you," he repeats.

You bite your lip, hesitant to be forthcoming with your real name. Especially because you don't know it. You decide to do the right thing. Lie

"Uh…Adahn. MY name is Adahn."

"Adahn?" The skull snorts. "And here I thought you were someone special."

"That name is not known to me," the Thalmor murmers. "Are you from Hammerfell?"

"Yes." That at least is not a lie. You think. After all, who else but a redguard could sport your dark skin and such killer dreads?

"This one is not on the list," the Thalmor turns to the guard next to him. "What must be done? I do not know."

"Enough with your knowing and list nonsense. He gets the block," the woman snaps.

"Understood." The Thalmor turns back to you. "My apologies. Know that your ashes shall be sent home to Hammerfell."

Turning away from the odd elf, you witness general Tullius angrily spitting in Ulfric Stromcloak's face. The skull appears to frown from his cage. Although to be fair, you can't really tell since skulls have poor facial expressions.

"New taunts! All right!"

You have no idea what to make of that statement. You hear a priestess of Arkay making some praise to her diety. You barely hear it. Priesthood never really appealed to you. For some reason, the gods never liked you it seems.

"Boo!" The skull shouts. "No talking!"

The priestess looks annoyed. "As you wish."

A stormcloak soldier makes his way to the block by which stands an executioner with a big honking axe. The soldier kneels his head down on the block and sneers up at the executioner.

"My ancestors are smiling at me Imperials. Can you say the same?"

With that his head comes off into the basket in front of him.

"You imperial bastards," yells a stormcloak soldier.

"He knew himself," the Thalmor in orange mutters to himself. "It was his will that he die the way he did."

"Shut up Dak'kon!" The captain barks at him. "Next, the hammerguard with the scars."

The skull looks at you. "Nice knowing you, scar face. If you ever come back as a skull, look me up."

You walk up to the block, trying to act brave but inwardly afraid. You place your neck down on the block and look up to see the executioner raising his axe… and an abish- dragon overhead.

The monster roars, or shouts you can't really tell and everyone falls to their feet in shock.

"Dragon," yells the captain. "What the hell is that doing here!?"

"That is not known to me."

"Be quiet Dak'kon!"

"I got no idea what that's about." You turn your head up to see the skull floating above you and looking down. "But I'd say that a fair bit of good luck. Come on berk, unless you wanna end up like that thief."

Dazed and confused from everything happening around you; the near execution, the dragon, and a floating talking skull, you follow him into a nearby tower and shut the door behind you.

"Here mate. Let me see about those bond-. Oh great not you again!"

You turn to see Ulfric Stromcloak and two of his soldiers have taken shelter here too.

"This doesn't change anything skull. You're still coming with us."

"The hell I am! I'm not getting my hands dirty in your little rebellion. Whatever you want from me, do it yourself!"

You're about to point out that the skull has no hands when you hear the dragon roar outside.

"We need to move now," yells Ulfric.

"He's right. Come on scarface, before that lizard brings this whole place down around our heads!"

You rush away up the stairs, just as the wall collapses and the dragon peeks its big black head in and unleashes an inferno within the tower.

You pull back, a hell of a lot luckier than the stormcloak soldier in front of you. The great black beast pulls his or her (hir?) head out and flies off. You stare out through the hole. You can see another building with the roof partially destroyed.

You take a leap out and land in the other building. Then all of a sudden you remember (a rarity for you) the skull. You look back where you just leaped from to see him caught in the grip of Ulfric himself.

"Let me go, king killer!"

"King killer? Really? Is that the best insult you can come up with?"

You contemplate whether to help the skull, then you remember. You just met him! And he was gloating over your imminent death! You think to yourself, fuck it and proceed down the stairs and out of the burning building…. Only to run once again into the dragon.

"Come boy!" The Thalmor Dak'kon pulls the child who had earlier been gawking at your execution behind a wall as the lizard unleashes another breath of fire nearly scorching you.

"You live," the Thalmor states calmly as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "I know the way to safety. If you possess the will to live then follow."

You have to say, following someone who just a minute ago condemned you to the block doesn't sound like the smartest idea. But hell, it's that or roasting alive. You run behind him and squeeze between a wall and another tower.

"Wait," he says quietly and presses himself against the wall. You follow suit as the dragon above looks around and flies off again.

"I know my eyes tell me that is a dragon, a legend of old. Yet I do not know how such a thing is possible. I do know this. This creature knows why he is here. He knows what he seeks is here, and he knows much of pain."

At this point you really can't keep quiet anymore.

"What is it with you and knowing?"

"In knowing, one becomes strong."

"That doesn't mean you have to keep saying it!"

"Know that I have no time to argue. Know this, that the exit is close and if you would know the way then stick close."

"You didn't have to say it s- oh forget it," you sigh in defeat as he's already taken off. You can't help but notice the sword he's holding shimmers strangely. Before you can get a better look though, you follow him past the general and captain from before ordering the attack, to little avail you notice.

"Dak'kon! About time," the General exclaims. "It's not going well. This thing is massacring us!"

"Know that we do not have the strength to defeat this creature. We must abandon this village and report to the Thalmor."

I suppose you're right. We need to retreat while we can. And to think we had Ulfric in our grasp!"

"There will be another day for that. It is not our time for death. Talos commands we live in service to him."

The general looks agast. "Talos?"

Dak'kon pales. "The Thalmor. Know that utterance was a mistake I shall not make again."

"Let's hope not. Make for the tunnels. We'll follow as soon as we can. We'll lose troops but you are an asset we cannot lose."

"What about him," the captain glares at you.

"He is not known to me," Dak'kon stares at her. "But I do not believe he is allied with the stormcloaks, and we have more pressing concerns."

The captain frowns at him then looks back at you. "Fine just get going."

You do more than "get going." You haul ass! You make it to the entrance to the tunnel when you hear…

"Hey wait up scarface!" You turn around to see the skull bobbing after you a finger in his mouth.

"You," Dak'kon grips his sword handle. "Where is Ulfric?"

The skull spits the finger out onto the ground. "Gone. Ran with his tail between his legs. Thought himself a real man, tangling with a poor defenseless skull," he cackles.

The dragon rears overhead again. The skull quits laughing and looks at you.

"Well it's been fun, but I'm not hanging around here for that dragon or any of you sorry lot to drag me off to whatever god's realm you believe in. Come on berk, let's blow this joint."

You're confused for a second. "You talking to me?"

"No I'm talking to Mr. Jolly over there. Of course, I'm talking to you! I need someone to watch my back through these tunnels, and since you're obviously not with any of these lunatics, that makes us the perfect match. So come on you with me?"

Dak'kon steps forward. "Know that the skull is treacherous. He serves only himself. Stick with me and you will know purpose."

"Oh please! He just tried to have your head! Come on, Adahn was it? Us outcasts gotta stick together!"

"Know that your crimes can be forgiven."

"Enough with the knows!" You suddenly shout. "Look I know, you're a badass noble elf warrior, and he's a frigging skull. But know there's no way I'm going with someone who sentenced me. And know that if I had to put up with your incessant knowing, I'd probably do the same to you! So know that I am sorry, but know that I'm outta here!"

He stares at you hard as the chaos reigns around you. He sighs and looks at the skull. "Know that I do not have time to capture you, but it is the will of the empire that your knowledge be known to us and it shall be known. And you," referring to you obviously. "Know that I bear you no ill will, but if our paths cross again, I will be forced to uphold justice."

"Justice," spits the skull. "What are you, a companion?" Come on chief! Let's leave these numbskulls to burn."

And with that, he begins, bobbling (floating?) towards the nearest wooden door while Dak'kon makes for the further one. The skull turns back at you pleadingly.

"Uh yeah, in case it wasn't obvious. Another reason I need you. No hands."

You stare at him. A floating talking skull asking for your help with a simple wooden door while a dragon lights the town on fire. And in the center of it all, you a heavily scarred man with poor memory problems. And you thought your life was strange before.

Turning back for one look at the burning wreckage of what you thought would be your final resting spot, you accept that there really is no alternative, sigh, and open the door. Whee.

…

On the other side, you take a moment to catch your breath. Outside you can still hear the screams of death.

"Take a moment and catch your breath."

You look up in annoyance. "I already was."

"Well I'm sorry mate. I'd probably notice except I don't breathe myself. Haven't for years since I gave up the ghost, aka became this."

"And how did that happen exactly?" You ask genuinely curious.

"No time for that berk. We've gotta get out of here before someone or something finds us."

"Too late for that." You turn to find the female captain who ordered you dead with a fellow Imperial soldier behind her.

The skull piqued up not in fear but in excitement. "Hey chit. I knew you couldn't keep your hands off me, could you? Saw you eyeing me the whole time while you had your back on this chap."

She growls at him. "Not today skull. Ulfric Stormcloak may have escaped, but we're not letting the same for you. We need to get something out of this whole ordeal."

"Hey chit come on now," the skull seemingly pleaded. "You know this isn't about that. You wanted to see if it's true, didn't you? If skulls really do make better lovers?"

Everyone gapes at him, unable to make sense of everything wrong with that statement. After what seems like several minutes she finally snaps herself out of it and turns to you.

"I can't believe you chose this little cretin over Dak'kon. Still I don't have any qualms with you. Let us have him and we'll let you go."

"Come on Adam."

"Adahn."

"Right Adahn sorry. Come on Adahn. She's a stingy Imperial. She and the Stromcloaks. They're really the same. Fighting for power and control. She won't even apologize for what she did. We gotta stick together us outcasts. You need me."

"Please. You're good for one thing only, and he definitely does not need you for that." She turns back to you. "So what's it going to be?"

You think hard. Do you really need the skull? You want to get as far away from here as possible and if everyone's after him, you'll have a big target on your back.

"Fus doo rah!"

Suddenly out of nowhere the skull lets loose a shout that knocks the two soldiers off their feet. You stare at him in shock.

"Screw it," the captain climbs back to her feet. "Kill them both!"

She comes lunging at you when the skull suddenly charges (floats rapidly) and sinks his teeth into her throat. She screams in anger and surprise. The other soldier stares dumbfoundly then rushes forward. Thinking quickly, you lift your foot up and trip the poor bastard sending him sprawling over and… impaling himself on his own sword.

"Sad," the skull says licking his lips from all the blood. "What a waste of a perfectly good tunic.

You look at the captain with her throat torn open then back at the grinning, floating, talking, and now bloody skull.

"Care to explain what the hell that was?"

"It's a shout. The thing that started this whole civil war mess. And I'll tell you the rest as soon as we're far away from here. Now let me see those wrists."

He snaps your binds in half with his teeth then looks at the fallen captain.

"Reckon you'd better take her armor. Not like she'll be needing it anymore. And you'd best take her weapons as well. Cover up your scars."

Consigning yourself to this current path you begin to strip the captain of all her stuff and putting it on yourself. The skull looks around then turns back raising an eyebrow.

"Well aren't you a regular smashing joe. Looking spiffy. Seems you were born for that stuff. Can't hide your zombie face but it beats a loincloth, eh?"

You swing the sword around. It's been a while since you've welded a weapon this big but you think you can manage.

"All right if we're going to travel together, let's get some things straight. First of all, is your name really Adahn?"

"Well… no. I don't know my real name for certain actually. I go by several."

"Fine then how about chief? Chief right? What I called you at first? Easy to remember. Second if you've got questions, feel free to ask me. I've been around Skyrim for some time now, and I can tell you're kind of new to these parts from your scent."

You frown and sniff yourself. What scent. The scent of sweat.

"All right now finally. I can fight as you can see, but I'm no heavy hitter and I'm hesitant to use that shout in here less it collapse a ceiling. Hence, I'm gonna need you to be the main offence. Think you can handle that?"

You look at your sword and shield then back at him. "I've got arms, I should be fine."

"Oh ha ha. Very funny. I'm laughing so hard my spleen might split if of course I had a spleen. Now let's go. Oh one other thing. The name's Morte."

Your eyebrow raises. "Morte?"

"Yeah Morte. It's Latin for death."

Your eyebrow raises even higher. "What's Latin?"

"No time for questions. This is a time for fleeing with our skirts hiked up! Let's go Chief or more smoking babes will suffer the same fate as this poor captain."

You pause to let that sink in. Then you sigh and follow the grinning, floating, talking, bloody, and apparently perverted skull.

You wander through the passages, mostly silent and keeping an ear out for any hostility. You do encounter some from Imperials. They fight hard but not enough to match the Zombie skull duo that is you and Morte! A short time later you find your way into what appears to be a pantry filled with apples cheese and rabbit hanging from the ceiling.

"Ah, now that's the spot. Quick grab whatever you can. We might not get another chance like this for some time."

"Uh, yeah," you say watching as Morte chomps one of the rabbits hanging from the ceiling, skin and all.

"Pardon, Morte?"

"Mfph? Que quer Chief?"

"How do you eat without a stomach? I mean where does that all go?"

"Eh, beats me. Then again I'm not totally sure how I came back as a floating skull. Now quit bellyaching and grab some of this stuff. Get it? Bellyaching?"

While he snorts, you grab a pouch and stuff it with whatever you can. You then notice some potions on the table, figuring they could do wonders for your look and health, you scoop them in to.

"All right vamoose. Let's float befor-"

You suddenly hear shouts from the passage beyond.

"Sounds like more of our "friends." Let's take it nice and slo- wait chief!"

You don't wait and instead stupidly and blindly go charging in with reckless abandon and find a stormcloak soldier engaged with two soldiers. Without thinking you stab one through the back. Just as the other turns to face you, the stormcloak cleaves his head off.

"Mfph!" You see Morte floating in with the food bag in his mouth. "Careful what you drop! You know how hard it is to carry something with your mouth?"

"The skull!" The woman whips out her sword. "Where is Jarl Ulfric?"

"No idea, love. No idea at all. It's just you and me, down here alone, with no one else around. So, whatcha doing after this?"

"What am I doing? I'm hauling your ass off to Windhelm as soon as we give that dragon the slip!"

"Ha! Fat chance! No way is my friend here letting you make off with me!"

"Ok. Let's go."

"What? Chief!"

"We could use the extra help. Once we're out we can discuss ownership. Until then let's work together."

"Fine. But know this tuts. You're boss ain't getting his hands on me. Now if you wanted to get your hands on me, that'd be a different story."

She just looks at you as if to say "is he for real?" You just shrug apologetically and notice a book title the "Book of the Dragonborn." You don't know why but you get the strongest urgency to read it so you pocket it for now and follow the two out.

You walk in silence for a bit. You at least. Morte can't quit trying to chat up the your new female companion who can't hesitate barking back at him. You meanwhile keep your ears open to the sound of the battle overhead and the roar of the dragon.

You eventually leave the building and make your way into a moist cavern with an underground river running through. Over the water and your companions arguing, you suddenly hear the dragon's roar much closer and the ceiling start to shake.

"Morte, get over here now!"

Morte looks up then at you. He won't make it in time, but the woman next to him with a determined look in her eyes grabs him and throws him with all her might at you.

He looks back in shock at the woman who only a moment ago despised him.

"Make sure he gets to Jarl Ulfric safely," she says as the ceiling falls down on her.

You both stare at each other for a moment until you finally let him go.

"So, to Ulfric then?"

He looks at you annoyed. "Don't get any ideas. I barely knew her, and Ulfric's no saint. Let's keep moving."

You march on in silence. This time with no chatter or sound of the dragon roaring overhead. Before long you see light. Eager to see the light again, you run, and Morte bobbles very fast to freedom.