Orgrim hovered on the edge of consciousness, he had a splitting headache and the back of his head felt like a tree had fallen on it. He was seated in and his hands were tightly bound, his kept his eyes closed as he assessed his situation. The pain was so great he felt like he was going to be sick, he could taste the bile as it threatened to overwhelm him, he willed his stomach to calm. Focusing his mind he began to manage the pain he forced his battered body to deal with it. Orgrim then began sifting through his recent memories to try and piece together how he ended up in this situation. He was caught in an ambush that part he remembered. Imperials he recalled by the uniforms his attacker wore, he had been knocked off his horse. No that wasn't right his horse had fallen, the poor beast had taken an arrow no doubt intended for him, dam he liked that horse.
He had fallen heavily and managed to roll to his feet and draw his sword. Then the attack came, an imperial leapt towards him, a youngster clearly inexperienced in battle, caught up in the moment perhaps trying to prove himself and gain some glory. Orgrim easily parried his clumsy attack and then kicked him in the stomach sending him sprawling. Orgrim remembered hearing more imperials closing in, their armour brushing against the undergrowth from all directions. He had no beef with them, why would they attack him it didn't make sense. He turned towards the advancing soldiers and found himself face to face with a greying veteran. Lowering the tip of his sword to the ground Orgrim yielded. Surely once they realized they had the wrong man this could all be cleared up. Then, someone had hit him from behind they had hit him hard.
Orgrim softly swore under his breath, he hadn't killed anyone, broken any laws why was he bound, why was he a prisoner. He slowly opened his eyes, he was in a cart with other prisoners, military by the look, at least a couple of them were, the other appeared to be common rabble. Orgrim looked down and to his dismay his clothes were gone he was dressed in rags, something was terribly wrong. One of the military type prisoners a tall Nord started talking to him, Orgrim ignored them he didn't want to inadvertently inherit their problems by association. Over the next few minutes the prisoners banter told him all he needed to know, one of the military types with a rag over his mouth was a Jarl and the leader of the Stormcloaks and he had killed the former High King in a duel. Dam the Nord's and their archaic traditions, apparently the Imperials didn't recognise the tradition and the Jarl was about to be made eight inches shorter curtsy of a headman's axe.
The common rabble turned out to be a horse thief and a skittish one at that, he was trying to weasel his way out and blame everyone for his problems. All his bleating and moaning became annoying and was eventually silenced by a sharp command from the Imperial driving the wagon. Orgrim faced a grim reality, he was caught in a political game and the price for playing would the lives of all in this wagon. He strained against his bonds, there was little point whoever had tied him up knew their craft, all he succeeded in doing was cause a fresh wave of pain that he definitely didn't need right now. He sighed to himself, and closed his eyes, he should never have yielded, better to die sword in hand and walk the long road to Solenguard proudly with the men you killed.
The journey by cart ended in some small backwater town named Helgen, complete with jeering locals and a few pointy ears in the mix. They were hauled out, asked names and sent to the block. Death didn't particularly scare Orgrim he had lived in its shadow for so long now it felt like an old friend. He watched impassively as the horse thief got shot in the back by an arrow trying to run from his fate. He watched as a rough looking red haired Nord stepped up defiantly to the block and have his head removed for good measure. Their actions mattered little coward or defiant warrior, they were both dead now. Then it was his turn, his initial pleas had fallen on deaf ears and he had marked the bitch that condemned him, but there would be no chance to seek retribution.
He moved to the block hearing a distant roar, thinking it, his imagination, perhaps Solenguard calls to me he thought. On his knees, this time he heard the roar clearly, nothing on this earthly world made that sort of noise. Forced down on the block he looked at his the man that would end his life, an overweight Imperial hiding his face behind a mask. Orgrim slowly exhaled he would not even see the face of his killer, there is no justice in the miserable world, he thought. Something was wrong, Orgrim thought his mind was going, perhaps called away to spare him his final seconds of humiliation. A large bird flew towards him, no not a bird a lizard, too big to be real. The headman raised his axe. Orgrim couldn't focus on anything other than this lizard or this bird it was a giant. Suddenly someone gave a name to this beast Dragon! They screamed.
The world seemed to be turned upside down in a heartbeat the Dragon, a beast as big as a ship, landed on the courtyard tower. It bellowed some strange words that escaped Orgrim's understanding and the clear skies filled with dark rolling clouds. It bellowed again this time Orgrim heard strange words in its call, and the earth shook. Orgrim slowly stood up dazed and unfocussed, his hands still bound, looking around through the chaos this creature created he saw one of the prisoners from the cart beckoning him to a crumbling tower, Orgrim ran.
He charged into the building and ran straight up the stairs just as this huge beast broke through the top of the tower. For a few tense seconds, he looked into the eyes of this beast. Its head easily the size of the cart he had been riding in. Its reptilian features dominated by teeth the size of long swords. The beast's eyes were not that of a mindless creature, they were calculating and intelligent. Then Orgrim felt the air shift this creature of legend and myth was breathing in: no it was actually taking a massive breath, Orgrim didn't know anything about Dragons however he had already experienced its strange bellow and he didn't want another taste.
Without hesitation he took two quick steps and leapt blindly out the side of the crumbling tower, the dragon unleashed its fiery breath. Orgrim plummeted down into the ruins of a burning building, he landed awkwardly on a smashed sleeping pallet and his momentum carried him further into the ruins. With images of that huge head reaching in and grabbing him he scrambled up and ran. Fire, chaos and death rained down on the Helgen. Orgrim ran past the destruction, smoke and fire ignoring burning soldiers and dying people. He narrowly avoided the snapping jaws of a beast that seemed too big to exist on this world.
Then like some guardian angel, twice in one day he saw the same prisoner from the cart again pointing the way to safety, what was his dam name Ralof, that it Ralof his guardian angel. He didn't hesitate and ran into the keep and out of the carnage and the nightmare. No sooner had they shut the great door when something crashed against it bending the massive hinges and splitting the timber in a couple of places. For a second Orgrim thought the beast was following them into the keep. The doors remained buckled and he realised the damage was from falling rocks from the top of the keep. Ralof tested the doors they were jammed firmly shut. "Well we won't get out that way" he intoned.
The Nord Ralof continued to make small talk about end times and legends, Orgrim could see he was juiced up on adrenalin and waited patiently until the soldier talked himself back to reason." Let me get those binds off you" Orgrim winced as the bindings were cut and the blood flow as restored and absently massaged the pain from them. Picking up a serviceable axe from a Dead Nord he turned towards his guardian angel, who was at this point noisily chewing on some left-over food on a table whilst rattling the various doors looking for an exit.
Orgrim quietly observed his companion, Ralof was boisterous and likable character and he seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve. Orgrim had met his kind many times before, the perfect soldier loyal and trusting, he would never leave a man behind, and he was the salt of the earth. Just then he turned to Orgrim and an easy smile flooded his unshaven features. Orgrim acknowledged his smile with a brief nod. The Nord turned his attention back to the bolted door. Orgrim had to kill this man; it was the only logical choice. If the Imperial's recaptured them it would not bode well, in the company of a Stormcloak Orgrim's fate was a good as sealed. Orgrim stood silently and moved quietly towards Ralof he slowly raised his axe and was just about to strike when he heard the distant unmistakable sound of someone running in heavy armour. Instinctively Orgrim and Ralof moved to the metal grate and listened intently to the approaching people.
Orgrim tensed and closed his eyes at hearing one of the voices in the distance; it was that Imperial bitch the one that sent him to the block. She had held his life in the balance and had sent to be executed without so much as a look. Orgrim felt the familiar cold embrace of pending battle infuse his mind. Death had come again into his small world and it would not leave without its due. Orgrim opened his eyes and looked up; at the same time Ralof looked to his companion to gauge if he could depend on him in this fight. Ralof was unprepared for the transformation in his quiet companion. He was staring into emotionless cold eyes of a killer. Ralof was no stranger to fighting, a true son of Skyrim, a Nord who fought for his country, yet now he wondered just who or what kind of man had he saved.
The grate swung open and before Ralof could act this stranger silent as the grave, swiftly and smoothly moved between the two Imperials. Before the Imperials had time to understand they were being attacked. The first imperial fell lifelessly to the ground with an axe firmly embedded through his helmet. Ralof watched with detached fascination as his companion calmly released the axe then stepped towards the Imperial officer and drew her sword from her scabbard. Then with one hand grasping the handle of her sword and the other her shoulder, Orgrim rammed it under her chin up into her skull. With a gurgling grunt she dropped to the ground her dead eyes wide with shock. Ralof had no love of Imperials yet even he was shocked by the effortless efficiency and brutal outcome of the attack. Orgrim quickly stripped the dead and soon had some serviceable armour, it didn't fit very well but it would do until he got out of this mess.
Ripping a set of heavy keys out of the imperial officer's dead hands he moved to the most promising door and soon had it opened. Ralof shook himself out of his morbid thoughts and followed. "I haven't thanked you Nord" Orgrim intoned. "It's Ralof, friend and there is no need I sure you would have done the same for me ". There was an awkward silence then Orgrim muttered "perhaps". They moved further into the keep and encountered a few more groups, the soldiers they encountered were routed and scared. Orgrim and Ralof dispatched them with little effort. Along the way Orgrim added to his ragtag armour and now had two imperial swords, a long bow and a dagger.
They finally cleared the keep and entered an old sewer that storm damage had eroded into a small cave system. The cave had all the hallmarks of a smugglers route long abandoned. Soon the unmistakable stench of desiccated carrion emanated from the tunnel ahead. Ralof spat in disgust, "Dam Spiders, I know that smell anywhere ", Orgrim looked quizzically at his companion. "Frostbite spiders they are the scourge of Skyrim" Ralof elaborated, "Don't let em bite you, poison hurts like a bastard and watch cause they spit venom as well". They quietly approached a web filled cavern filled with the desiccated cocooned remains of many unfortunate creatures. Dominating the cavern were spiders ranging in size from a small dog to a large cow.
Using their bows they made short work of the oversized arachnids, dodging globs of venom they fired volleys in a slow retreating tactic that Ralof indicated was effective. Orgrim hadn't seen this species before and was glad that he decided not to kill his companion earlier; these would have posed a real threat had he been alone. Ralof quickly showed Orgrim how to harvest the venom using the spider's web to soak up the venom. "When it dries you grind up the web and mix it with water in a bottle then apply it as needed to your weapon, give a great bite to your attack" Ralof chuckled at his joke. Orgrim Carefully wrapped some web soaked in venom in a rag he found on an unfortunate spider victim and tucked it away in a pouch.
The narrow tunnel opened up in a large entrance cavern that contained a hibernating brown bear. After a little discussion they crept silently around the sleeping giant and moved out the entrance of the cavern. The smell of crisp mountain air greeted them at the entrance of the cave. The bright landscape was initially rather harsh on the eyes, just as they were getting use to the change from the low light of the caverns, an ominous roar sounded in the distance. They both ducked down behind a boulder and watched as the dreaded dragon flew directly overhead. They remained hidden until this creature of legend was well out of site.
Ralof quietly spoke breaking the silence after a few minutes "I know where we are friend Orgrim, the village I grew up in is not far". Orgrim looked at his companion "Many thanks Ralof, but from here I travel a different path". Ralof digested this information and looked credibly disappointed, "I understand friend Orgrim, and perhaps our paths may cross again, you should consider joining the Stormcloak's. Skyrim needs men of your calibre, Ulfric Stormcloak can be found in Windhelm that is where I will eventually head" Orgrim gave a noncommittal grunt then added "perhaps". Ralof shouldered his gear and with a quick nod set off at a determined pace down the small track.
Orgrim was glad to be rid of his companion, he didn't like people all that much, Ralof had been an amicable enough companion, but he was too involved in the politics of Skyrim and Orgrim needed time to decide if and when he should get involved in a civil war. Having lost his belongings and considerable gold in an ambush and now wearing the armour of dead imperials this wasn't the best time to wander into a local village. Moving off the track he sat down and closed his eyes, allowing a moment to let his senses adjust to the new land. He listened to the wilderness, noting the wind its direction, feeling the warmth of the sun and where it was in the sky. The noise of the insects, the small animals, a rabbit scampered past dislodging a small pebble that rolled down a rock before settling next to the base of a wild flower.
Next Orgrim drank in the aromas, the intoxicating and overpowering scent of the various mountain flowers the bittersweet pollens and the tangy pine sap of the trees. Yet there was something else, something he was familiar with, a potential solution to his problems; wood smoke. This meant people and possibly a chance to barter or trade his incriminating armour. Opening his eyes he surveyed his surroundings. Facing into the wind he followed the scent down the hills towards what looked like a river or lake and somewhere around here was a campfire.
The scent became stronger and Orgrim could hear the soft murmur of voices just over a ledge. A couple of things struck Orgrim as odd, the people below were talking too quietly and the position of the camp was well hidden and well back from the road. Orgrim lay down and crept along on his stomach to the rim of the rocky ledge, from here he could get a good look at the group. One glance confirmed his thoughts. They were bandits, way too geared up for hunters and too settled in for common travellers. No doubt the well-travelled path below would prove a rich hunting ground for the unsavoury trio below.
Orgrim didn't need this kind of confrontation so he carefully eased back from the ledge, fate however can be a cruel mistress and his mismatched armour dislodged a small stone the clattered noisily down the rock face into the camp. Orgrim froze as the noise seemed deafening to him, he cringed with each bounce, yet it appeared he was safe, letting out a shallow breath of relief he was just standing up when an angry arrow punched into his shoulder and sent him spinning over backwards.
Orgrim let out an oath and inwardly cursed his luck and not for the first time today, rolling backwards the tip of the arrow protruding from his back snapped but not before causing incredible pain and untold damage to his shoulder. Thankfully it was now barbless and a determined pull ripped the remaining part of the arrow out. Rising to his feet he dropped the bloodied arrow and scanned the bush for his attacker. He spotted the leather clad bandit and managed to dodge aside just as the archer released another arrow. Orgrim's left shoulder burned with pain he quickly put his back to a tree and focused his will. He felt the healing magic infuse his shoulder as the wound knitted together enough to stop the bleeding. It still hurt however his arm was now functional; trusting his instinct he dived to the left just as a second attacker lunged at him.
Orgrim knew he was as good as finished if he couldn't control that bloody archer, gambling on the bandit not being a great archer he charged straight at him. To his relief he saw the bandit hesitate then drop his bow and draw a dagger. At least one thing went his way, without stopping he ran straight past the startled bandit who was expecting an attack. Orgrim felt the bandits dagger slide off his armour and thanked the gods for small mercy's, he ran straight into the camp and down onto the road. Orgrim mind was working overtime, where was that third bandit. Reaching the road he received a rather direct response to his unspoken query, passing a non-descript bush the missing bandit neatly stepped out and shield bashed him.
For the second time in five minutes Orgrim found himself rolling around on the ground in pain, this time however he was in serious trouble. The other two bandits had caught up and the only glimmer of light was the archer was still armed with a dagger rather than a bow. The bandits spread out around him as he gingerly got to his feet. "Well milk-drinker, not your day is it" the bandit that shield bashed him intoned; this brought a rough barking laugh from the archer. "Didn't your mommy tell it's not nice to spy on people" the bandit continued. Orgrim swords flew from his scabbard with startling speed he twirled his wrists expertly spinning the swords in a dexterous display, coming to rest in a defensive posture. The bandits a bit taken aback by this, quickly recovered by the weight of their numerical advantage
Orgrim knew his situation was grim even that pathetic display had hurt his left shoulder, looking at the men slowly circling him he knew he had to even the odds on the first clash if he hoped to survive this. Looking over the shoulder of the most lightly armed, the archer, he lowered his guard and looked what he hoped was startled. The archer couldn't help himself and glanced over his shoulder. With all his strength Orgrim launched a decisive attack on the now distracted bandit. Using the left sword he drove it into the archer's chest, the effort reopening the wound on his shoulder. The archer crumpled wrenching the sword from Orgrim's weakened grasp. This move nearly cost Orgrim his life as the bandit with the heavy armour launched a ferocious overhand slash the Orgrim barley countered.
The attack from the bandit jarred Orgrim's right arm and now he was down to one sword and a useless shoulder. At least I got that bastard Orgrim thought. The bandits now clearly weary of this stranger circled around him looking to finish him off. "I say old boy, in a spot of bother are we" came a foppish voice from down the road. Orgrim and the bandits looked down the road and there dressed in finery that looked like it belonged in a court rather than the wilderness was a blonde haired dandy carrying a lute. It was so comical Orgrim had to shake the sweat off his brow and take a second look. It was no illusion, a minstrel was about to give him the break he needed.
The heavy armour bandit recovered first "Clear off Nord this is not your affair". "Oh I don't know" replied the minstrelwith a dismissive tone "I do need some new material for my songs". Orgrim noticed that as the minstrel spoke he kept steadily advancing on the bandits with no apparent sign of alarm. Hanging his brightly coloured lute on the branch he purposefully drew his sword. "I think this old chap has had enough for one day don't you, he looks a terrible fright" the minstrel intoned, "his shirt is positively ruined" he continued. The bandits unsure of the newcomer and his light banter were momentarily off guard. The heavy armour bandit suddenly launched at the ministerial who ducked effortlessly to his side and without pause dispatched him with a quick thrust of his sword. The other bandit seeing this lunged at the newcomer only to have Orgrim run him through from behind.
Orgrim sank down onto his knees, that last attack had drained all his reserved of strength, the minstrel wiped his sword and moved over to Orgrim helping him back up to the now former bandit camp. "Well my battered friend you look about all done in" Orgrim slumped down onto one of the bed pallets and tried to answer when everything went black. The smell of baking rabbit woke him, it was night and the minstrel sat by a very comfortable looking fire gently tuning his lute. His sharp eye caught Orgrim's movement and he smiled "Ah back from the dead I see, must say for an imperial you are a long way from home", the minstrel gave him a mischievous grin.
"I'm no imperial minstrel" admitted Orgrim warily, "Oh how rude of me" exclaimed the minstrel "My name is Talsgar, Talsgar the Wanderer, Minstral to the rich and famous, I have sung to kings and made many a maiden weep with the beauty of my words" Talsgar seem satisfied with his declaration and settled back to tending his lute. Orgrim gingerly felt his shoulder and was surprised to find it healed, sitting up he felt surprising well considering the last few hours. "Have some rabbit my imperial imposter ", Talsgar invited. Orgrim moved to the fire and welcomed its warmth. "Thank you, for…." Orgrim began, "Don't mention it, those scallywags had it coming" Talsgar confidently interrupted. "Far be it for me to give advice but I would not be seen in imperial cloths this side of Helgen if I were you" Talsgar continued.
Orgrim looked up sharply then smirked to himself "It seems you are Talsgar the wise, I seem to be swimming in trouble lately". After a moment of silence Talsgar continued "I'm sure our unsavoury friends have possessions they no longer need". Then standing the minstrel donned his lute and pack and turned to Orgrim "Let me be candid my friend you need to get far away from here before this attracts attention, the blacksmith in Whiterun will buy your imperial uniforms with no questions asked either sell then of bury them" then without another word Talsgar the minstrel wandered into the night whistling a rather catchy tune.