Far From Home: Tales of the Dragonborn
Chapter 1: Ambush
Art deftly pulled an arrow from his quiver and knocked it in his bow. The deer stood in the middle of the highway that connected Skyrim to the center of the Empire, Cyrodil. He had hunted this buck from Helgen almost all the way to the border, but it was all about to pay off now. This buck was huge, and he knew he could get a good price for its meat back in Helgen. Ever since the Imperials had set up camp there food had been scarcer than normal.
He pulled the arrow back to his ear, his bow taut. He aimed Just below the deer's shoulder, looking to give the animal a clean, painless death. Just because he was going to kill him doesn't mean he should suffer. He took a deep breath in, held it, and prepared to let loose his arrow…
When suddenly there came shouts from down the highway. They spooked the deer, who took off into the woods just as he let his arrow fly. It flew off into the woods, and he heard a thunk as it hit some tree trunk.
"Great, there goes a week of work." He knew he could chase the deer any further, since he barely had enough supplies to make it back to Helgen. Instead, he decided to go see what caused the commotion that had caused his prize to escape. Bandits had been working these roads as of late, and he worried that they had set on some innocent travellers. Besides, bandits always carried a few septims, and he needed to mitigate his loss.
He threw his pack over his shoulder, and with bow in hand jogged down the highway. The shouts were getting louder now, they were coming from just around the next bend. He thought he could make out what they were saying:
"Protect the Jarl!"
A Jarl? This could be his lucky day! Saving a Jarl's life could net him some serious coin! He broke into a sprint, pulling an arrow from his quiver as he ran. He flew around the bend in the road to find a full-fledged battle on the highway. He instantly recognized the plate mail and color of the Imperial Legion, but more importantly he saw who they were fighting. Their opponents wore the blue tunics of the Stormcloaks, the rebellion who wished Skyrim to secede from the Empire.
He stood there, an arrow knocked into his bow unsure of what to do. He was no lover of the Empire, but helping the Stormcloaks could be a death sentence. He stood there until an Imperial soldier spotted him, pointed and yelled "There's another one!"
Three Imperials broke off of the fight and rushed towards him.
"No! You've got it wrong" he screamed, "I'm not one of them!"
The Imperials either didn't hear him, or didn't care. They continued their charge, so he did the only thing he could, pulled the arrow back to his ear and loosed it at the closest Imperial. He aimed for his exposed knee, looking just to take him out of the fight, not to kill him. He didn't want this to get messier then it had to.
He was just pulling the second arrow out of his quiver, the Imperials having covered about half the original distance between them when out of the woods burst a big boar of a man, carrying an iron greatsword, with his blonde Norse braids trailing behind him. He slammed into the nearest Imperial, flipping him over his shoulder. The soldier fell in a heap, and didn't get up.
The Nord turned to the third Imperial, whose charge was taking him directly to the Nord. The Imperial lifted his shield and continued his charge. The Nord adopted a defensive stance, waiting for the right moment for the Imperial to strike. The Imperial used the momentum of his charge to deliver a swift lunge attack with his steel shortsword, which the Nord deftly sidestepped. As the Imperial's attack carried him past the Nord, the Nord brought his greatsword down on the soldier's head, crushing his helmet and the skull beneath it.
The Nord turned to face Art, standing there with an arrow still knocked in his bow. The rebel laughed a hearty laugh, a smile breaking out on his blood specked face.
"Don't just stand there!" He cried to Art, "There's glory to be had! Sovengarde awaits!"
Suddenly a voice called out over the din of battle, easily heard due to the sheer power of it.
"Stormcloaks! Lay down your swords! I will not allow you to die for me! I surrender!"
The Nord turned to face the battle. The Stormcloaks were all laying their weapons down on the ground and turning to face the man in a bearskin cloak, who towered over the Imperial soldiers surrounding him. Many of them were fleeing, the battle lost. Those who weren't were being beaten and shackled by the Imperials.
The great blonde Nord walked towards the Imperials, greatsword in position, ready to strike. The man in the bearskin cloak saw him approaching, and shook his head slightly, silently ordering him to stand down. The Nord paused, obviously torn between duty and honour. Finally he surrendered to the Imperials who were surrounding him.
As they were shackling the Nord, the soldiers noticed Art standing there, still holding his bow with the arrow knocked into it, loosely at his side.
"There's another one!" One of them yelled, don't let him escape! Two legionaries leveled their bows at him.
"Freeze, in the name of the Empire!" He had no choice but to drop his bow and comply with their orders. He raised his hands above his head and slowly approached the soldiers. As soon as he drew near enough one of them punched him across the face with his gauntleted hand, and he fell to the ground.
The last thing he heard before he passed out was one of the Imperials mutter "Damn Stormcloaks."
Then the world went black.