G'day readers, MufasaToSoar here. Ummmm... first of all, this is one of my first Fanfictions. You can find me on DeviantArt (as Simsy658). Second, this was made on an iPad. Before I forget, reviews are welcome, but keep them positive and/or helpful.
Thanks!
There was a sound of something. Sounds of wood travelling across gravel. She was faintly aware of her sitting upright against wood. She tried to reach up to her pounding head but her hands were tied together at the wrists.
"Hey, you. You're finally awake!" Someone said.
Witseva a looked towards the source of the voice. A rugged Nord, blonde hair and beard, was looking towards her. Witseva caught the his lips move at the last part.
"You were trying to cross the border, right?" He asked.
'Shut up, Nord. Or I'll kill you later.' Witseva thought, baring her teeth.
"Walked right into that Imperial ambush. Same as us, and that thief over there." He continued, motioning his head over to his left.
Witseva looked over, seeing a fancily dressed Nord male with a gag and a Redguard male in similar attire like herself.
"Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I'd have stolen that horse and halfway to Hammerfell." The Redguard complained.
Witseva was surprised. Usually thieves go to jail if they are caught, something she knows all too well. She didn't catch the last part of his talk.
"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." The Nord retorted.
"Shut up back there!" The Imperial soldier shouted.
Witseva looked over to the carriage in front of theirs, and saw another group of people of both genders wearing the same outfit as the Nord to her left.
'This is going to be a very long day.' Witseva thought.
They rode into a fortress soon enough. More words and orders were exchanged before the carts just stopped somewhere.
"Wh- Why are we stopping?" The Redguard asked, clearly nervous.
"What do you think? End of the line." The Nord replied before everyone in the cart stood up and got off the cart.
Witseva tuned out the Redguard's cries, but she knew they fell on deaf ears. She was more concentrated on not falling over.
"Walk over there when we call your name! One at a time!" An imperial lady, obviously the one in charge, ordered.
The four paid attention to the Nord soldier in front of them.
"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm."
Witseva was surprised. She tuned out the conversation on the carriage. The Nord with the gag left the small line and walked over to an executioner's block.
"Ralof of Riverwood."
The blonde Nord left the line.
"Lokir of Rorikstead."
"No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" Lokir shouted before dashing off. He was shot by the archers in the ankle, but died due to a hit in the neck after.
Witseva was so absorbed by the stupidity of the Redguard that she almost missed the order for her to step forward.
"Who are you?" The Nord asked.
"My name is Witseva Cadorees." The Argonian female replied in a raspy tone, which is her normal voice.
Witseva has dark brown scales with red highlights along her neck and mouth. Her eyes were an odd shade of blue slits. On top of her head there was hair, although it looked a lot like leaves and were coloured green.
"You a relative of one of the Riften dock workers, Argonian?" The Nord joked, earning himself a snarl from Witseva.
He leant over to the heavily armoured Imperial soldier. "Captain, what should we do? She's not on the list." He whispered.
"Forget the list. She goes to the block." The Captain answered.
'That's odd. Usually Imperial soldiers follow the code of conduct.' Witseva thought.
"By your orders Captain." He said before turning to Witseva. "I'm sorry, Witseva Cadorees. We'll make sure your remains return to Black Marsh."
'NO! Don't send me back! I've worked so hard to get away from there!' Witseva thought.
He took a breath, "Follow the Captain, prisoner." He continued.
Witseva kept snarling, even when following the Captain to the small circle. She saw Ulfric being talked to by some important Imperial.
"Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like The Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne." He said.
Ulfric grumbled his reply.
"YOU started this war! Plunged Skyrim into CHAOS! Now the Empire is going to PUT YOU DOWN, and RESTORE the peace!"
They heard an unnatural roar in the distance. Everyone looked everywhere to find the source. They couldn't find it.
"Did you hear that?" One Imperial soldier asked.
"It's nothing. Carry on." The important soldier said.
"Yes, General Tullius." The Captain said.
Witseva marked the important person as the General. There was obvious friction between Ulfric and Tullius.
"Give them their last rites." The Captain ordered to a priest standing beside the executioner.
"When we grant your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you-" The priest chanted, raising her hands in the air.
Witseva silently groaned. She always hated the Cyrodillian religion. Being raised in the Black Marsh, as one of the last Shadowscales, she followed the ways of the Hist.
"For the love of Talos, SHUT UP and let's get this OVER WITH!" A red-haired Nord interrupted.
"As you wish." The priest said, being very sarcastic to him.
The Captain walked behind the Nord and started to get him ready for the execution.
"COME ON! I haven't got all morning!" The Nord taunted.
He was pushed down to his knees and pushed even more so that his head was on the block.
"My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" He informed, before he was permanently silenced by the beheading from the headsman's axe.
The prisoners stood in silence. Witseva stood stoically, as she was used to death due to her time as being an assassin and a thief.
"YOU IMPERIAL BASTARDS!" The only other female prisoner yelled out.
"JUSTICE!" One of the local villagers yelled out.
"DEATH TO THE STORMCLOAKS!" Another local yelled.
"As fearless in death, as he was in life." Ralof said, looking towards his now headless comrade.
"Next, the lizard." The Captain ordered, gesturing towards Witseva.
Another unnatural roar was heard.
"There it is again. Did you hear it?" The Imperial Nord soldier said.
"I said, next prisoner!"
He sighed and turned to Witseva, who was snarling at whoever caught her eye, white teeth showing out of black scales.
"To the block, Witseva. Nice and easy."
'At least he is a lot more caring. He is truly sorry.' Witseva thought. 'I must resign to this fate. I hope no one will miss me.'
She walked forward, most of her walking ability was stunted due to her hands being bound. She turned to face the soldier, who still had the unhappy look on his white face.
'Stay strong, sister. At least you will no longer be sad to have an assassin in the family.' Witseva thought, thinking of the second reason why she came to Skyrim.
She was forced down onto the block, and none too gently. It was there that she saw the strangest thing. A huge, black, flying monster was seen.
"What in Oblivion is that?!" Tullius asked.
The thing landed on top of the tower that was in Witseva's view. It's landing sent shock waves through the ground, tipping the headsman onto his stomach.
"DRAGON!" The female prisoner said.
'Well, that answers your question, General. Now, how am I going to get out of here?' Witseva thought.
The executioner stood back up, only to be sent down again by the dragon's magic. The sky turned red and flaming rocks started to fall from the sky. Witseva was faintly aware of someone pulling her off of the block and General Tullius yelling.
"Argonian! Come on, the gods won't give us another chance!"
She looked around for who said that voice.
That blonde Nord! She remembers his name as Ralof.
"THIS WAY!" He yelled, running off towards a still standing tower.
Witseva ran behind Ralof, everything exploding around her. She got into the tower and Ulfric closed the door behind her.
"Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?" Ralof asked, seemingly forgetting that the first question was answered before they got in there.
"Legends don't burn down villages." Ulfric answered, his voice surprisingly calm.
Ulfric dared to open the door a crack. He closed it after a the look.
"We need to move! NOW!" Ulfric ordered.
"Up through the tower! Let's go!" Ralof said to Witseva, gesturing towards the stairs.
They ran up, stopping when the dragon head butted a hole through the wall and spat fire into the whole. Witseva was aware of it faintly speaking before filling the hole with flames.
When the dragon was gone, the two walked up to the hole.
"See the inn on the other side?" Ralof asked.
"Yes." Witseva answered.
"Jump through the roof and keep going."
"You can't be serious!"
"GO! We'll follow you when we can!"
Witseva psyched herself up. She called on her experiences as a thief to do so, since she used to do all manner of stuff.
She walked back a bit before running up and leaping towards the hole.
'I'm not going to make it.' Witseva thought, all the way in the the first quarter of the jump.
She landed on the inside of the burnt roof. She got a bit dirty but dismissed it for a second. Witseva continued through the roof and fell through the burnt hole made and her knees hit the wooden floor. Pain coursed through her body at the hard contact.
'Have to... keep going.' Witseva thought, standing up although it was clumsy.
She ran out into a open space. Immediately, she wanted to go into some shadow that hung around the edges of the space. She saw the Nord Imperial soldier. He got a boy out of the way but he couldn't save an older man from being scorched point blank.
He noticed Witseva. "Still alive, Witseva?" He asked.
"I am standing here in front of you." She answered.
"Stay close to me if you want to stay that way."
"Not like I have much of a choice."
He turned around to the two behind him. "Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defence."
"Gods guide you, Hadvar." Gunnar mumbled, Witseva hearing it fully.
Hadvar and Witseva walked off towards a broken wall. On the way, she saw the severely burnt corpse of the Nord kid's father.
"He was Torolf. He was a lumberjack who lived here in Helgen. We still need to keep moving though." Hadvar said, noticing Witseva mourning the corpse.
They continued on, coming up to the wall to the inner garrison. There were screams of terror and pain erupting all over Helgen. The kind that would leave mental scars and midnight terrors for months to come.
"Stay close to the wall!" Hadvar ordered. No sooner as he said it, the dragon's wing claw hooked onto the wall between them.
"Yol.. Toor Shul!" A plume of fire was sent from it's mouth after saying that.
'So it is speaking some kind of spell. But what is he saying? I've never heard of it before.' Witseva thought.
The dragon flew off and the two continued after they were sure it did. They went through the burnt remains of a house and into a courtyard. There, they saw Imperial archers and mages firing all sorts of projectiles at the dragon.
The two kept moving through, ignoring the cries and complaints of the dragon's victims and information. They came up to the inner garrison.
"Ralof, you damned traitor! Out of my way!"
"We're escaping, Hadvar! You're not stopping us this time!"
"Fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!"
'Sovn-what? Nords have some weird traditions.' Witseva thought after hearing the argument.
The two Nords ran off towards separate doors of the keep.
"Come on, you! With me!" Ralof called out towards Witseva.
"With me, Witseva! Into the keep!" Hadvar subsequently yelled.
Witseva stood dumbfounded. She was stuck. Which man to go with? The dragon knocked an archer off of the parapets. Witseva ran towards Hadvar. He opened the door for her to run into and, after running in, locked the door.