Todagog – Stories of an Orc Battlemage: Volume 2 (Unbound)

I remember feeling ignorant, shameful and most of all, groggy beyond all comprehension. As if it wasn't enough to wake from a drunken slumber into an imperial ambush, but to be knocked out cold and stripped of all but some rags... Embarrassing was the least an Orc would feel.

As my vision came back into focus, I remember seeing Aura's of tree's and people. There was the sound of rickety wooden wheels clutching to the dirt as they rolled. The air was cold and brisk, as if we where somewhere on a mountain, I thought to myself perhaps we were somewhere back in Highrock. But no, it was ground level, and to much life surrounded us. I looked to my left, a broad looking man, hair blonde like a Nord, bound at the wrists and seated. And which point I realised, so was I, (years from now, scholars may suggest I came from humble beginnings... such a though makes me chuckle).

And at that point also, and found myself in the afore mentioned rags. I took note of the carriage driver, an Imperial, and could see just yonder more of em, some sort of escort. Couldn't think why you'd need that many Imperials for simple prisoners. But then I noticed the garbs on the blonde... Didn't recognise them for the life of me.

With that, I looked to my right, There was another two men, one gagged as well as bound, black garbs, fancy lookin' too. The other was like me it seems, some Breton in rags... Though unlike me, looked scare to the point his bowels might collapse. Then I remember the voice, the voice of the Nord whose life I would eventually, and then unknowingly take... Yet this Nord would help would help me with what was to shortly come...

I thought writing these words would alter my perceptions, but no, I feel know as I did then. Ralof was a means to an end. (Though I hope his sister does not live to read these words. I sense a most volatile temper in her).

Ralof explained my situation. We were in Skyrim, by some distance than from what I first believed. It would seem the previous night I had walked a much greater distance than a stroll whilst drunk. Apparently, he was a Stormcloak. How I remember not caring, such naivety, salty tasting nostalgic naivety.

And apparently, I was in a carriage with royalty... Some Royal now, buried in a tomb and all might know. I had no true liking for Ulfric Stormcloak, man was a spoilt brat and yet a powerful warrior. Might have respected him more if he'd chosen the latter of the two. Believing himself to be High King of Skyrim, and apparently he had the power to shout a man to pieces. As a Mage, I was naturally curious and sceptical at such a claim, especially at that of a Nord. Turned out the squeamish Breton was a thief, trying to make a getaway from the ambush. He didn't give me much eye contact... Almost like he seemed guilty. Eyed up my rags enough times though... I think about it now, and I can't help but wonder as to how a Thief just stumbles into an ambush, and how the imperials went to such a ways as to remove my armour... Though of course, I was never told by the guards that it was them who removed my gear.

We were coming up on a gate. Rolaf told us it was Helgen upon entering, and pointing out some Thalmor agents. The Stormcloaks certainly didn't seem to like them at all. Couldn't think why back then... Can't stop hearing about why now.

We got off the carriage, an Imperial taking names on a list. That Thief, his name I didn't care to remember. Much like the arrow's entry point that took his life... Was it in the neck? Or to the knee?

I lowered my head as the priest commenced prayer, we were at the chopping block. Ironic, how the Thief was so scared of death that he ran right into... Backwards in way a perhaps.

Then I recall, another Nord, disrespectfully interrupting the prayer and having his head taken. Then I felt my body surge slightly... Something was out of place. I was not sure completely, but I sensed something was imminent, and it was not death.

I stepped forth to the block, and the guard called my name. I stepped forward cautiously, lowering my head, knowing that whatever it was that was coming would be soon... If only I had ignored that guards words, or had not been drinking the night prior, I would have known that those sounds, sounds so loud, where that of a Dragon.

It came, Alduin, first son of Akatosh, a Dragon so powerful, his landing on a Tower shook the entire of Helgen. And with a single roar, summoned a storm, and fire rained from the sky. With this the execution was quickly and permanently reprieved, as I took cover in another nearby tower, dodging citizens, my arms still tightly bound. If ever I could imagine a scene so full with helplessness, it would be Helgen.

-TBC