A/N: This story is basically a realistic narration of the play through of the game. Like how the whole world would be if it was a movie or a book. The protagonists may come off as cliché but I'll try to avoid that. There may be humor in there (though I'm not very good at it). I'll try to be accurate to the humor/friendship genre. The protagonists have their own origin stories. I got the idea from Skyrim Adventures by Furious wind (The assassin character is basically a copy from it).
Anyway, let's begin.
1. Unbound: (pt. 1)
"So when does Akvir leave for Skyrim?" the Khajit, Krita asked her Redguard friend as they sat on the grass for a last picnic in the meadows surrounding Cyrodil.
"What are you talking about? You know I am leaving tomorrow." He said munching on a full goat leg (you can't get him enough meat).
"I know that. What I ask is the time." Krita asked taking a bite from a sweetroll.
"Oh that. I'll leave before noon." Akvir replied. He saw his friend's face fall, so he put his goat leg down in the basket, grabbing her by the ears, got behind her and said excitedly, "I caught a Khajit!"
"No not this again. Release Krita you stupid Redguard before I rips you to shreds." She said turning in circles trying to swipe her claws at her friend and catching nothing but air. In a way you could call it animal cruelty. After quite a few rounds, Akvir finally released her. She immediately turned towards him hissing.
"Nice kitty. Nice kitty." He said backing away slowly from the hissing Khajit. However the next moment Krita leapt towards him and he turned around and ran for his life. After a few minutes of chasing they finally settled down to have their meal. Akvir, now with claw marks across his face, resumed his goat leg, all the while chuckling to himself while a furious looking Krita sat down beside him to silently munch on a sweet roll.
"Are… are you…. uh….. alright?" Krita asked after a few minutes in the lowest volume she could manage.
"Yes I'm fine. We both know you would never hurt me." Akvir replied shaking his goat leg towards his friend.
"I wouldn't bet on it though." Krita immediately said narrowing her eyes. But then she sighed and smiled at him. However Akvir easily saw the worry behind her smile and sighed.
"Why are you so worried, Krita? It's only for a few years. Besides you can visit me there anytime you want. If it's the civil war you're worried about then you shouldn't. We are both from noble houses of Cyrodil so it won't be a problem for us."
"But Ulfric Stormcloak is a madman if any of his soldiers find out that you are from a family that supports the Empire you know what they will do." she said burying her face in her hands.
Akvir shook his head and put his hands on her shoulders and said, "Listen, the city of Helgen is under Jarl Siddgeir who is an Empire supporter in this war and the hold above it, Whiterun is under Jarl Balgruff. So I will be safe there. And besides, do you really think that just four or five soldiers of any kind, will be a match for me?"
This made the khajit feel a little easy. She had heard that Jarl Balgruff was a reliable leader and trustworthy. Though she hadn't met him personally (neither had Akvir for that matter) she knew because her father (and her friend's) had met him in Whiterun when they visited Skyrim on business.
However, the thing that gave her the most comfort was Akvir's ability as a warrior. He had always been a good fighter although he preferred to solve things peacefully, if possible. He had been trained by the Fighter's Guild since the age of 9. His father (quite an accomplished warrior himself) once saved one of the prominent members of the guild from a bandit ambush outside the city, while he was teaching hunting to Akvir. As a result his father befriended the member and he became an honored guest at their guild hall. The guild members all seemed to take a liking to Akvir and began teaching him the various techniques the guild members had acquired from all over Tamriel.
Akvir turned out to be a natural, and now ten years later, despite not being a formal member, he was known as one of the best warriors that the guild had ever produced. Proficient in one handed swords, bow and arrow and magic he was one of the top contenders of the annual tournament organized by the Fighter's Guild to show off their member's skills by pitting them against outside warriors. Akvir along with a handful of guild members had managed to keep the trophy within the guild.
"You know, I have an idea that I can use to make you stay." Krita said.
"Oh? And what is it?" Akvir looked up from his goat leg just in time to see a wooden club swing toward him and then blackness….
His head throbbed like a hammer as he regained consciousness. He tried to raise his hands to his head but couldn't as they were bound tightly by a rope. He did not open his eyes immediately as he knew that the sudden rush of light (he could feel the sun on his skin) would only make the headache worse. So he kept them close and decided to wait for it to die down.
"Meanwhile let's see…," he said to himself and focused on his other senses. He was definitely in Skyrim, the cold air told him as much. The thudding of the wheels and the bumps and jerks told him that he was on a cart. So he was a prisoner being transported somewhere. He then focused on the rope that bound his hands and found that the knot was the same type as used by the Imperial Legion which was a relief as it told him that his captors probably were not bandits. However, it was a high probability that he had lost his identification papers or else he would not be in his situation.
By now his headache had subsided almost completely and now the throbbing remained only at the point of injury. He slowly opened his eyes and saw what he expected to see. Tall pine trees, arid dark soil with minimal grass that too rough. A vast expanse of snow and mountains which seemed to go beyond the horizon. The sun was directly overhead so it was noon.
However all this registered in his mind later. The first thing that caught his attention were the people around him. The first one was a blond Nord clad in standard military quality chainmail covered by blue cloth at the neck and the waist who was sitting right in front of him. Stormcloak. The second one was a brown haired, squirrely looking Nord who looked like he had seen a ghost. However, it was the man sitting right next to himself that made Akvir's heart sink in his chest. He had a dense but shapely beard, shoulder length hair and was wearing an expensive bearskin armor which was cleverly made to pass as just an expensive dress. His mouth was gagged by a cloth. The man fit the description perfectly and the fact that his mouth was gagged laid to rest any doubts that Akvir might be having.
"Just perfect." Akvir thought to himself banging head on the cart's railing behind his head and then resting it in that position so that he was looking up at the blue sky, "Ulfric Stormcloak. Akvir, you are in deep shit, man. How the hell did you get into this mess?" He asked himself knowing full well what it meant, "The last thing I remember is crossing it into Skyrim and then—"
"Hey you, you're awake." The Nord in front of him spoke breaking his train of thought.