The bard coughed once in the loud tavern, and the loud conversations died down. He was beginning the tale that all present had been waiting to hear. The man took a deep breath to calm his nerves. "My fellows, prepare yourselves for the tales of the greatest hero, the ruler of our Empire. This is the tale of the mortal who devoured the soul of Alduin, the World Eater. This is the story of the Doom-Driven warrior that brought death to Harkon, the Vampire Lord. A soul that triumphed against Miraak in the mad oceans of the wretched Apocrypha. The thu'um of this warrior destroyed armies and brought them victory in war. This is the Song of the Two that were touched by the gods' wisdom and power. This is the story of two who took that blessing, and crafted warring Empires.
"This is the story of the Dragonborn."
"Captain, these two aren't on the list," the young, broad shouldered Nord soldier said. His hold on the list of prisoners slated for execution at Helgen began to falter as a... feeling ran through the air. Hadvar glanced, half-worried, at the unusually tall human male, yet Breton or Imperial judging by the man's skin, in front of him and also an average height... she-elf of some sort, Hadvar couldn't quite place her. Both of them had this... fire burning in their eyes that linked their disparate physical forms.
"It doesn't matter," the Imperial Captain snapped in response. She glared at Hadvar angrily, and Hadvar's brow furrowed for a moment. "Well!?"
Hadvar sighed and turned his attention first to the human. Hadvar, a Nord, had to look up to look the man in the eyes. "By the Eight, ye could be an Atmoran!" Hadvar grunted. The human stared at Hadvar for a moment, and the edges of the man's lips tugged upward into a slight smile. "Sorry. Anyways, who are you?"
The human sighed. "Lucius Ashcroft. Mother was an Imperial, Father a Breton. His mother was a Giant, that's where the height comes from," the man joked, smiling even in the face of death. His hazel eyes sparkled good naturedly for a moment before his matted dirty-blonde hair fell across them to obscure his soul once again.
While Hadvar wrote this information down, he could vaguely hear General Tullius reprimanding or gloating to Ulfric Stormcloak, Traitor to the Empire. Tullius was asking about how Ulfric could misuse the voice to kill the king. Hadvar had little doubt, however, that the Empire would use the Voice at any given opportunity if it meant victory in even a single battle.
Hadvar turned his head slightly to the woman. "And you?" he asked, hoping that this one would be as easy to catalog as the man.
"What do you think?" the woman spat.
The Captain beside Hadvar sneered and backhanded the woman into the ground. "You will answer when you are told to, Prisoner!" she shouted. She added in a kick to the elf's midsection before letting Hadvar take over again.
"Gah, ha!" the elf gurgled, torn between pain and laughter. "You're just going to kill me anyways, why should I tell you who I am?" The woman's eyes glanced towards the Thalmor representative present at the executions.
Hadvar looked over at Elenwen, the Thalmor, as well. She had the look of a cold hearted bitch that hated humans based on "Elven Supremacy." Hadvar bet that the elven prisoner was hoping that the Thalmor would try to save this elf from a human execution. The woman didn't even receive a return glance from Elenwen.
The human prisoner leaned down to help the elf up, but was quickly shoved away by the Captain. "No contact between prisoners," she snapped. Hadvar sighed internally. It was a rule, but he doubted Lucius had a knife or two tucked up his ragged, burlap sleeves.
Lucius stood straight and followed the Captain's directions to stand in the line for the execution. "Let's try this again," Hadvar said, looking down at the elf woman. "Who are you?"
"Nord," she spat. "What do you think?"
"We won't ask nicely again," Hadvar warned.
"Cause you've asked nicely so far, Imperial scum?" the woman retorted. Hadvar just glared into her fiery eyes for a few moments, and she relented. "Whatever. Altmer-Dunmer mix. Thera Direnni."
"Thank you," Hadvar sighed while he wrote the woman's name and race down. She staggered to her feet and felt her crimson hair mixing with the blood of a wound caused by the captain. Her blood red eyes flashed with anger, but she followed Lucius with only a few mutterings about the Imperial Bastards.
Hadvar watched Lucius and Thera sadly. Just like the thief Lokir, they didn't look like people that were members of the Stormcloaks. They just happened to be at the border with Cyrodiil during the ambush on Ulfric and his men. Wrong place, wrong time and those two were going to follow Lokir to the grave. At least they weren't trying to run.
Hadvar was soon struck from his deep thought by the echo of a roar in the distance. "What was that?" he asked, worried.
"It's nothing. Carry on," Tullius commanded, leaving no room for the fear that ran in Nord blood. Dragons haunted every Nord's dreams as a child, and it was a fear few could ever rid themselves of, despite its irrationality.
The priestess began shouting her prayers to the sky. Hadvar walked with his Captain to observe the executions and stood at attention, just as he was expected to do.
"By Talos, shut up. Can we just get this over with?" the first Stormcloak prisoner snapped at the priestess as she talked of the "Eight Divines." Hadvar had little doubt that – were the Thalmor not present – the priestess, the General, and the Stormcloaks would be praying to the "Nine Divines." Few humans truly believed in their hearts any of the wording in the white-gold concordat. The "Eight" was a formality that extended to any elven company, and that was all. Unfortunately, the belief in the Ninth Divine was heresy because of the Thalmor. The indestructible Empire finally lost a war, and it cost the people of that Empire their religion.
The headsmen's ax rushed downward and the blade snapped the Stormcloak's head cleanly from his shoulders. The head fell unceremoniously into the basket made ready to catch the discarded skulls, and the headsmen shoved the body away haphazardly with his foot. Hadvar saw the Stormcloak's foot twitching after death, and he mumbled to himself, "May Talos commend you to Sovngarde." He glanced around beneath his helmet as he said this, and was relieved that no one present seemed to have heard him.
"Next up, the Breton!" the Captain shouted. A distant roar echoed through the air while Lucius walked to the chopping block.
The roar echoed through the air again. "There it is again. Did you hear that?" Hadvar asked.
The Captain glared at Hadvar before adding in a sneer. "I said, next prisoner," she spat. "The Breton!"
"Technically, Breton-Imperial," Lucius said. "If you could just.. no?"
"Get down," the headsmen commanded. The tall harbinger of doom kicked the back of Lucius' knee and the man went down. He shrugged and placed his neck gingerly on the chopping block.
"Jeez, don't lose your head," Lucius joked while he laid still. Lucius sighed and closed his eyes to accept his fate.
Then it happened. The roar came again, much louder, and Tullius was the first to respond. "What in Oblivion is that!?" he screamed while drawing his sword. Hadvar followed the General's example and turned to see what was coming. He immediately felt his blood freeze, and for a moment he was just a boy hearing his uncle telling the nightmare story of Alduin the World Eater.
A dragon, Harbinger of the End Times, had landed on the prison tower just next to the prisoners. The monster was huge, perhaps just as large as the tower it was so precariously perched upon. The creature was covered in huge, black spikes that gave it a frightening, deadly visage. Added to that was a look of pure contempt in its terrifyingly intelligent eyes. Everyone present, Elf, Nord, Prisoner, Free, stared up at the creature.
Then, faster than they could hear or see, the dragon shouted. The sky lit up red and the clouds swirled into a vortex of bloody fire. It was bewitching, and not a man present could find themselves not staring at the sky. When the first flaming rock fell from the beautiful red vortex and crushed an Imperial Soldier, that was when Oblivion broke loose. Prisoners ran off and used anything sharp they could find to cut their bonds. Thera sprinted off next to Ralof, a Stormcloak prisoner that Hadvar had grown up with – best friends as boys, actually.
Hadvar glanced over at the execution area and saw that the other uncatalogued prisoner was alive. Dazed, but alive. Hadvar rushed over and dragged the dead body of the headsman off of Lucius. "Get up, we have to run!" Hadvar shouted. He dragged the prisoner to his feet. "We have to get out of here, come on! Stay by me and we'll stay alive."
Lucius nodded, half-dazed still. However, he could still summon the strength to chase after the the Nord Loyalist. The two ran around a building on which the large, black dragon was perched and tearing through the building stones like blocks.
Fahiil
Thera
Ralof was fast. I was barely able to keep up with that human trash. "This way, come on!" he shouted when the dragon attacked. He was probably the first to react. "We aren't going to have another chance like this!"
Of course, the Nord was right. I took off running with him, casting a glance over at Elenwen again. Her eyes followed me for just a moment, approving of the decision I had made for my mission, and then she ran off with General Tullius. "Jarl Ulfric, what was that? Could it have really been a dragon?" Ralof asked as soon as he sprinted into the building.
Ulfric, the more commanding Nord, responded slowly, but intelligently. "I'm not sure what to believe, Ralof. We don't know enough, yet."
The younger man nodded as Ulfric cut the binds that were on his wrist. Ralof then took the knife from the Jarl and walked over to me. "Let's see if we can't get those bindings off," he said with a grin. He snapped the ropes that were digging into my wrists.
"Why are you helping an elf?" I asked, with just the right amount of suspicion doused with gratitude. It would make me look like I was of a lesser position than that of these Nords. But by right of my elven birth, it was obvious that I am the superior being.
"Anyone who hates the Empire is friend enough for me," Ulfric answered. "Especially if the Thalmor don't try to save her."
"Hm... Well, many thanks," I replied. I rubbed my wrists, just again getting used to the feeling of being unbound. "But we are still left with the problem of the -" the black monster outside screeched and the building began to heat up from the dragon's fire breath "- dragon. What do we do next?"
"Ralof, get her out of Helgen. We'll be right behind you," Ulfric commanded.
"But I can't leave without you, Sir! What would Galmar say?" Ralof begged.
"No! I have to make sure the rest of our soldiers get out of here okay. This one needs your help more than I do," Ulfric snapped. Ralof froze for a moment before nodding and giving in to his superior's orders. "Good. Now go."
Ralof grabbed my arm. "Come on. We have to get out of here," he said. He ran up the stairs and we came upon a hole that the dragon had punched in the wall. There was a five foot gap between the tower and the next building, and maybe a ten foot drop. It wouldn't kill me, but... it would hurt. "Ladies first."
I snarled on the inside. "Why thank you," I said as sarcastically – yet good naturedly – as possible. I looked down from the hole in the wall and hissed. It would not be fun. I took two shallow breaths, and then leaped through the smoky air and into the burning wooden building. My legs stung from the landing and the impact translated, at least partially, up my spine.
As Ralof landed next to me, I turned and growled. "What's the term? Frying pan, fire?" I shot.
Ralof rolled his eyes and ran forward towards a window. The crazy human was going to jump out of another building! To my amusement, however, the ground gave way beneath him as he approached the corner of the room. The wood collapsed and he fell to the ground floor in a clatter of wood and ash.
I walked up slowly and slid down as carefully as possible. I considered leaving the Nord to die. It would have been easy – fun, almost – to let such a lesser creature die. However, Elenwen's original orders had been to assist Ulfric and his men in escaping their execution, and those orders likely remained even in the face of the dragon attack. With a heavy internal sigh, I ran to Ralof's side and began dragging debris from atop his body. "Hurry, we have to run!" I said, injecting just a fraction of "damsel in distress" into my voice so I could appear that I needed him. It was always important to make men feel more important than they actually are – basic Thalmor Hidden-Justicar training. Spy training.
When I finally got enough of the junk off of the Nord, I was able to help him to his feet. "Can you walk?" I asked, well-crafted fake concern ringing through my voice.
"I'll be fine," Ralof said, his words barely intelligible through his thick, Nordic slur.
"Good. Let's get going." I slogged with Ralof supported by my shoulder. I dragged the human past insane Stormcloaks and Imperials – even some of my own stupid compatriots – struggling to shoot the beast down with nothing more than iron arrows and plain wooden bows.
"We should help!" Ralof said. Ugh, humans.
"No, Ulfric said we need to get out of here," I replied quickly. I shifted more of Ralof's weight onto my shoulder and dragged him down a hill. As we struggled downward, that Imperial soldier with the list and the human prisoner with whom I had been stuck ran into one side of the keep. I made a mental note to avoid those two – being with a Stormcloak, and all – and dragged Ralof into the other side of the keep and to freedom.
Jul
Lucius
Hadvar pulled me around the keep and forced me into a crouch. "By the Ni – Eight. A dragon..." I gasped. "I can't believe it."
"I'm not sure I could believe it if I wasn't watching one burn a town to the ground right now!" Hadvar replied. He glanced around the edge of the stone tower and nodded to himself. "Okay, the way should be clear now. We need to evacuate as many people as possible, so keep an eye out."
I nodded. "I wasn't expecting doing it any other way," I responded cheerily. I jogged after Hadvar around the building and summoned a spark of magickal flame to my fingertips to burn my rope bonds off. A few seconds of concentrated fire later, and the ropes snapped cleanly off.
"Here, just give me a few minutes and I can get those bindings off you," Hadvar said as he drew a dagger from his belt.
"Oh, ha... funny story," I chuckled. He turned around while we tried to sneak around the building.
"You could have escaped at any time?" he asked incredulously. "Well, why didn't you?"
"Well, it took some concentration. And it only wasn't obvious because of all the fire around us," I explained. I walked just behind Hadvar, who had tucked the knife back into his belt. I began keeping an eye out for anyone else that may have survived the attack thus far. "If I'd tried it on the way here, the guards would've beaten me into submission."
"I suppose we would have," Hadvar replied absently. The dragon roared once more and we looked around the corner.
"Run, Haming!" a Nord man was screaming. He was struggling to drag his son to safety with him.
"Father, stop! Help!" the boy cried out. The child suddenly tripped and lost his footing, he fell headfirst into the ground. The boy's hand slipped from his father's and he skidded across the ground.
"Haming, no!" the man screamed. The dragon's roar echoed through the sky once again and the creature slammed into the ground just behind Haming and his father. The man glanced down at his son and grabbed him by his left arm and right shoulder. "Run, son. Live."
The man threw his son forward just as the dragon shrieked in its alien tongue and fire flew forth from its jaw. The child rolled across the ground, just outside the reach of the flames. His father, however, was not so lucky. The flames ran across the man's body and he screamed in pain. His skin charred and blackened before us until there was little left.
"Joore ag!" the dragon screamed gleefully. With a few powerful beats of its mighty wings, the dragon was flying gleefully through the air, its roars echoing with bloodthirsty elation. "Fen krii Dovahkiin!"
I ran forward seconds after the dragon was gone; I was already cursing my inability to save the man. It had been as if my legs had frozen at the sight of the dragon, and I had been completely unwilling to help him, regardless of what I knew I should have done. I glanced up into the sky towards the dragon as it flew away to kill someone else. "Did you hear what it said?" I asked Hadvar while he collected the crying child. Dovahkiin... the word sounded oddly familiar, and I was not sure why.
"No. It was just roaring, right?" Hadvar asked. "Okay. Haming. You're going to come with us until we find some of your family, okay?"
The young boy cried. I walked over and picked him up. He was about eight – usually he wouldn't want to be carried, and very few would carry him. But given my strength and the circumstances, I thought he wouldn't mind. "Come on, Haming," I said quietly. I motioned for Hadvar to go first, and I followed the man through the burning township of Helgen.
A short while later, Hadvar and I came across a small group hiding out with a contingent of troops from both sides as defense. Everyone was casting leery eyes at each other, but it seemed to be going fine for the moment. "Froki, is that you?" Hadvar asked. I swung my head towards him, and saw an old man huddling in the corner. At a glimpse, the old man looked just like Haming's father. "Froki... Torolf is..."
The old man looked up at Hadvar in horror. I noticed his face was much more... experienced than his son's had been. "Is... Is Haming okay?" the old man asked, his voice scratching like gravel on a steel blade.
"Yes, we have him," I said. I walked over with the sleeping boy and laid him on the ground next to his grandfather. "He's... physically fine."
The old man glared at me in my prisoner's rags, then his eyes softened. "Many thanks. He is family, and so are you both, now."
"I am honored," I replied. I looked up at Hadvar. "Do we stay here or..."
"We must leave Froki. The soldiers here are going to keep you safe," Hadvar assured. He gestured for me to follow him and we ran off into the darkening shadows created by fires at night. "Stay safe, Old Man."
"I need to meet up with General Tullius as quickly as possible," Hadvar explained to me as we ran. "With the escape of Ulfric, the General's going to need all the men he can get in order to quell this rebellion and fight off the dragon – or dragons, gods forbid there is more than one. I bet if you helped, there would be a pardon in it for you."
I laughed dryly as we ran through the battlefield of mortal versus dragon. "You don't have to bribe me, Hadvar. The Stormcloaks left me behind and the dragon tried to kill me. They don't sound like the kind of people – or dragons – I would want to associate with."
Hadvar smiled at me for a moment. "Well then, I suppose the General will be happy. If you can fight with that fancy magic or a sword, I bet that you'll be a very welcome addition to the Legion."
We two rushed through the fires and the screams. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the she-elf and a blonde Stormcloak limping down the hill. I ignored them, for the moment, and Hadvar and I ran into one side of the Helgen Keep.
