-Helgen-
He didn't want to be there. Nobody wanted to be there. Not even that horse thief, who couldn't stop complaining about the rebellion. It was understandable: how can one stay quiet when his own death awaits at the end of the line? But he was quiet, for the words spoken in front of him held valuable information, such as the identity of the gagged fellow on the right. However, this information brought him no comfort, as it meant there were truly no chances of escape. There was no doubt that the legionaries escorting the chariots were in large numbers: the Empire wouldn't want to let Ulfric Stormcloak escape from its grasp after all.
While he was thinking, the convoy entered Helgen, a city surrounded by sturdy stone walls. Once again, he thought, the imperial general didn't take much risks. Another one might have tried to join Solitude for a public execution, but this one definitively didn't want any chance of Ulfric getting away. Turning his head, he saw the same imperial general he was thinking of discussing with what seemed to be a thalmor envoy. This part didn't make much sense to him: why would the thalmors care for a rebel? Even if he did worship Talos, those elves didn't see that as important, otherwise they would have acted against the rebellion. His thoughts ended when the convoy stopped. The ride was over, and the executioner was waiting for the first head to chop.
Before being sent to their death, an Imperial captain, accompanied by a helmet-less legionary, recorded the names of each prisoner. When his turn came, he gave the name he was using at the time: Metellus. The soldier told him his ashes would be sent to Cyrodiil. A noble gesture, but quite useless for someone who planned to escape. Since his name was recorded, he moved toward the rest of the prisoners, who were waiting in front of the chopping block, just in time to catch a glimpse of the first execution. A stormcloak was the unfortunate first one to have his head chopped off. It didn't have much effect on him and the other prisoners. He was thinking that he had the time to plan his escape if they were killing all the stormcloaks first, but those thoughts were quickly proven wrong, as the Imperial captain ordered him to kneel in front of the chopping block. Without a plan, without any other alternative, he had to obey the orders. He had seen how the horse thief, who tried to simply run, had been effortlessly shot down by the imperial archers, and he didn't want to suffer the same fate.
His head lying on the block, he saw the ghosts of his victims march in front of his eyes? Would his life end up in this miserable little nord town? Was it retribution for all the wrong he did? Were the Daedra no longer amused by his actions? His mind being somewhere else, he didn't notice the strange roar which frightened the nearby soldiers, nor did he notice the dragon landing on the tower above him. Thus, he was quite surprised, for when he came back to reality, the imperial soldiers were in complete disarray, and Helgen was on fire.
He didn't have much time to think. His first reflex was to follow the other prisoners, who took shelter in a nearby tower. In the tower were Ralof, the nord who was speaking with the horse thief, Ulfric Stormcloak, leader of the rebellion, and a couple of rebels. It wasn't an ideal company for someone who had no intent on fighting the empire, but this would have to do for the moment. According to Ralof, there were several other rebels trying to clear the stairs on the first floor of the tower. Metellus was about to reach them when the wall was brutally breached and the stormcloaks incinerated by the breath of the dragon. However, he had a clear way out of this tower thanks to that. Only problem was that he had to jump on a neighboring building. It didn't look like much, but he hadn't eaten for days, and still had important bruises from the legionaries' treatment.
Nevertheless, he had to jump. And he jumped. The landing, if such word can describe the shock that ran through his body, was rough. He was almost sure he had some ribs broken. Getting up and walking was where the real test began. He had underestimated his wounds and bruises to the point where he had huge spikes of pain each time he moved. That coupled with his exhaustion made it extremely painful to leave the wood house, which was on the brink of collapse.
In front of the house, he saw the soldier who was recording the names of the prisoners, alongside a child and another inhabitant of Helgen. The same soldier yelled at him to take cover, and he understood why when the dragon landed near him and bathed the place in fire. He successfully plunged behind the remnants of the walls, and miraculously avoided getting burned. The soldier urged him to move:
" Quickly! Follow me!"
It's not like he had much of a choice, and he didn't know the place. Following him was basically staying alive for the moment. They reached the gate, and although it was blocked by the broken stones from the walls, it was where the last remnants of the cohort that had escorted them were regrouping, effectively making it the safest place in all Helgen. The man who was organizing this last line of defense was the general he had previously seen. He was no longer on his horse, and his ceremonial armor had revealed itself as a sturdy steel chestplate. But the dragon wasn't planning on letting them regroup forever. Landing near the surviving archers, he burned a dozen of them, and killed several others by simply swinging his tail. Immediately, the heavy infantry charged to protect the last archers, but was either pushed aside by the fearsome tail, or mauled by the large jaws. In a couple of minutes, the gate went from being the safest place in Helgen to a slaughterhouse.
The soldier he had been following must have had the same thoughts, for he quickly turned back and headed for the dungeon. Metellus had no reason not to follow him, so he managed to stay behind him despite his exhaustion. Before reaching the dungeon, they came face to face with Ralof and a few stormcloaks, who had apparently survived the dragon. After a quick exchange, both the soldier and Ralof headed for 2 different entries to the dungeon. This time, Metellus decided to follow Ralof.
-Helgen Keep-
The major difference between the dungeon and the outside was the quietness in the former. The thick walls of stones were stopping the sounds from the struggle outside to reach the people inside. The quietness was, however, disturbed quite quickly, as 3 imperial soldiers entered the keep by another way. Metellus recognized one of them as the Imperial captain who was in charge of the order of passage to the chopping block. Ralof and the 2 other stormcloaks had also seen the legionaries and were now charging, a battle cry upon their lips.
Reacting as disciplined soldiers would, the imperials quickly fell into formation and met the nords' charge head on. The first stormcloak to strike missed the imperial captain by an inch with his greatsword. The latter, unfazed, sliced open his throat and then walked toward Metellus. The situation wasn't good for him: his hands were bound, he was exhausted and both Ralof and the other rebel were locked in combat with the legionaries. If he was to win this fight, he would have to dodge the first hit. Which came right after he had the thought: a straight thrust, aiming for his belly. He dodged on the left it while taking care of letting the sword pass through the space between his two arms and found himself almost behind the captain. Using this newfound advantage, he savagely pulled her arm back, breaking it in the process. He then searched for her sword, which was lying a meter away. He took it and cut his bounds. Ralof and the other had successfully killed the two other legionaries, allowing them to move deeper into the keep.
After going through several rooms without encountering serious resistance, they found themselves in a cave filled with spiders. It wasn't a tough fight but they had to look out for the poison thrown across the cave. However, after the spiders came the true test. A bear was guarding the way out of the cave. They were 3: 2 stormcloaks and a prisoner. One of them was exhausted, the others were still in good shape. It was doable. They only needed the first strike. It was decided that the stormcloak armed with a warhammer would strike first in order to stun the bear, then Ralof and Metellus would aim for the eyes and hopefully kill him.
When they were in position, the stormcloak charged the bear, warhammer raised. Taken by surprise, it didn't have the time to avoid being hit and received the warhammer directly on his head. The warhammer bounced back, the bear uninjured. A moment of silence was then heard in the cave, which ended with the bear slashing the stormcloak's leg, making him unable to move. Ralof and Metellus looked at each other and a mutual understanding was reached. They began running toward the exit, leaving their companion to the bear, ignoring his cries for help. When they were out, Metellus noticed Ralof was silently weeping. He wasn't used to abandoning comrades, it seemed. Turning back, he saw that Helgen was almost completely destroyed. With the town gone, the imperial captain and her list gone, and no one who saw him escape from the keep, nobody knew what happened to the prisoner named Metellus.
Well, almost no one.
"Hey, fellow prisoner, closest town from here is Riverwoo-"
Ralof never got to finish his sentence, for his throat had been punctured by an imperial gladius. Leaving Ralof to die, Metellus began to make his way toward Riverwood. He knew the path, for he had studied Skyrim's maps before trying to cross the border. He had thought of retrieving Ralof's armor before trying to reach Riverwood, but if he was found by an imperial patrol, it wouldn't end well for him.
On the way to Riverwood, he met a farmer, who was bringing his cow as an offering to giants. It seemed like a strange gesture for Metellus, but the farmed assured him it was part of Nordic culture. It didn't really matter to him, but while the farmer was talking, Metellus grabbed his gladius, hidden in his rags, and plunged it in his skull. Such move allowed him to retrieve his clothes without too much blood on them. Now clad in his belted tunic, he continued to walk toward Riverwood.
-Riverwood-
He had finally arrived in Riverwood. On the contrary to Helgen, Riverwood only had a small wooden outer wall with lightly fortified gates. The garrison there was approximately 50 guards. Seeing how 400 legionaries were unable to stop a dragon, it was obviously quite defenseless when it came to those monsters.
Just after entering the town, he was stopped by a guard.
"Hey, you. Do you plan to keep travelling, or you're staying here?"
"Travelling."
"Perfect, can you go to Whiterun and warn the Jarl about a dragon?"
"A dragon?"
"Yes, Helgen went up in flames, and soon after some farmers came to us, scared shitless. Claimed they'd seen one of them dragon."
"I'll do it, then."
The news didn't surprise him. Helgen wasn't that far from Riverwood, and a dragon could fly, meaning it's quite easy to spot. At least, he now had an excuse to meet with the Jarl of Whiterun, but it also meant he couldn't stay in Riverwood for long. He had to keep going.
-Bleak Falls Barrow-
He had no idea how it came to this. He went to Whiterun to warn the Jarl about the dragon, and he now found himself spelunking in a cave to retrieve a stone for some senile wizard. He didn't even have time to rest, and so he was still exhausted. Fortunately, resistance was for now limited, as only simple draugrs came to face him. They were slow and moved awkwardly. No match for him in close combat, however their archers could be a problem. He kept going deeper in the cave, and was about to enter a room full of spider web, when he heard noises behind him. When he turned back, he was greeted with the sight of a large battle axe aiming for his head. He only dodged it by a few millimeters, but lost his balance in the process. He quickly got up, but was punched away by the draugr. It looked like this draugr was not normal. Metellus slowly got up again, this time entirely focused on his enemy. The latter was armed, and armored. This was some bad news. He wasn't sure his gladius could penetrate the armor, and his magic pool was too low to allow him to use any spell long enough to kill. However, he had an advantage. The draugr was standing in a small pool of water, while he was standing on a dry stone. If he could reach that pool with his hand, he would be able to electrocute the draugr in seconds. He would only get once chance, as the draugr would most likely move after that.
He quickly plunged toward the draugr, dodged the first strike, fell to the ground and extended his left han… he had no left hand. He was unable to move for a couple of seconds. How did the draugr do to strike with the axe again so fast? And then he noticed the ice shard. The draugr could use magic.