In the small village outside of Whiterun knows as Riverwood, the villagers all turn their heads to the pack of men walking through the path in the centre of the town. Three of the men were in light leather armour with their swords on their belts showing their Legion logo. Behind the second Imperial was a man dressed all in ragged robes with bruises on his arms and face. He looked young for his age with blonde hair that flowed down his shoulders. "What happened to that man?" asked a villager, he sounded like he wasn't much older than 10. "Who knows, who cares, he's a traitor to all of us. Damn Stormcloaks."
The pair slowly made their way past the village and followed the path which would lead them ultimately to Whiterun.
"Get a move on, prisoner." Said the guard which stood behind him.
"If I wasn't tied up i'd be walking faster," the ragged man said, "How about you untie me?"
As he spoke the group came to a halt and the Imperial who stood before him stuck him across the face, making him fall to his knees. "Let's just do it here, I can't stand this traitor anymore." said the attacker.
The man leading the group drew his sword from his scabbard and stood before the kneeling man. the two Imperials stood on the other sides so he couldn't run if he tried.
"We hear you're quite the killer. If we're correct you're Mjorin of the Snow-Born clan, hm?" said the bladed man.
"Aye.. That's me.. and the rumours are true.. I've spilt lots of Imperial blood, with honour and pleasure as well." Mjorin spoke with a grin forming on his face. One guard from the side kicked him in the side of the ribs, doubling him over but not wiping the grin off his face.
"You Stormcloaks are idiots. Ulfric is a traitor and so are all of you and his army.. The empire will put the rebels to and end and Skyrim will stay under the empire," The bladed man said.
"Ulfric is the true high king… this is our land.. the empire is weak as well as it's leader and followers." Replied Mjorin.
"You're but a worthless dog, Stormcloak. Choose these words carefully Snow-Born, they're the last you got." He readied his blade.
"Death to the empire, Death to the emperor and death to everyone who follows your path.. Sovngarde is calling… Talos guide me…"
As Mjorin said these words the Imperial raised his blade. Mjorin held his chin high, accepting death and greeting it with pride. As the Imperial went to strike, he stopped in his path and his blade dropped from his hand before he ultimately did, an arrow in the back of his throat. The two Imperials drew their swords and Mjorin opened his eyes once he head the 'thud' he stood up and made a run for it. Four Stormcloak soldiers stepped out of the bush and charged into battle with a blood curling roar. The Imperials were cut down quickly and Mjorin turned and faced his comrades.
"Looks like you got your ass in a situation." Said the bowman, removing his helm.
"And it's about time you repaid me back, Daryl." Mjorin said, Daryl gave him a cold glare before the two broke into a laugh. The two stepped forward and held out their hands, grabbing each others wrists.
"Good to have you back." Daryl said.
"Aye, i'm glad you found me. I don't plan on dying before I see Skyrim brought back and Ulfric sit on the throne. And if I do, I want it sword in hand not tied up like a chained dog."
"We all say the same Mjorin, I think Ulfric would be happy to see you again. C'mon, get your arse moving, we're heading home to Windhelm!" Daryl said as he slung his bow and turned to start a march. Mjorin chuckled and the rest followed him.
"But by Talos… I need a damn mead when we get there," The men laughed along with Mjorin, making their way home.