Chapter 2: Problems, Answers, and More Problems
It was a loud bump on the rocky trail that finally stirred Simon "Ghost" Riley awake. Shifting uncomfortably in the horse-drawn wagon where he sat, Ghost blinked under his sunglasses a few times as the world groggily came back into focus. He had no idea where he was or what was happening; the last thing he remembered was getting jumped by two wannabe knights and getting punched in the face. Adding to that, his hands were still bound tight, and the guns one of his attackers had taken were nowhere to be seen.
Taking a moment to look around, Ghost noticed that his surroundings had changed yet again. The thick forest landscape from before had receded somewhat, and tall mountains now surrounded the carriage in every direction he could see. Large boulders littered the ground next to the road. Topping it all off, the cart was flanked frontward and backwards by several Imperial soldiers riding horses, all led by a middle-aged man in fancy red armor.
"Hey, you. You're finally awake." an unfamiliar voice spoke in a thick Norse accent.
Ghost set his eyes on another man sitting across from him. He was a powerfully built, blonde-haired man who was probably in his early to mid-thirties. He wore a blue and brown tunic with a layer of chainmail underneath, brown trousers, and leather boots.
The lieutenant said nothing, too dumbfounded to speak.
"You were trying to cross the border, right?" the stranger asked, taking Ghost's silence as a signal to continue. "Same as us, along with that thief over there. You and your companion were captured by Imperial scouts, just as we were. Sad day when you can't freely walk into your own homeland..."
Ghost looked to his right and saw three other people in the wagon with them. The one seated next to him was bound and gagged, and looked to be the most unhappy out of anyone in the group. He had shoulder-length brown hair and wore a long fur coat with ornate armor underneath, steel gauntlets, black pants, and heavy steel boots. Ghost could easily conclude by his appearance that this man held some position of power in... wherever the hell they were.
The second man was much less appealing. Like the other two strangers, his brown hair was long and fairly tidy, but that was where the similarities ended. He was wearing a filthy brown sleeveless shirt, ragged brown trousers, and tan foot wrappings. The thief looked scared out of his wits, with a sickly expression painted on his dirt-smeared face.
Roach was jostling around, back and forth, on the floor of the carriage due to a lack of seating space. The scout from earlier must've slugged him hard since he hadn't yet awoken.
"Damn you Stormcloaks," the thief hissed, "Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy."
"Anyone care to explain what the hell he's talking about?" Ghost asked, annoyed with this whole situation he was now stuck in.
The blonde man raised an eyebrow. "You mean you don't know?"
"If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and be halfway to Hammerfell," the thief whined. He nodded in Ghost's direction. "You there. You and me- we shouldn't be here. It's the Stormcloaks the Empire wants."
"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief," the blonde man said indifferently.
"Shut up back there!" the driver of the cart snapped.
Ghost sighed. He probably wasn't going to be getting any answers about his current predicament anytime soon, so for now he decided to just play along with whatever anyone else said. There'd be time for a proper interrogation later.
The haggard-looking thief gestured to the man with the gag around his mouth. "What's wrong with him, huh?"
"Watch your tongue!" the first man barked. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!"
Ghost looked at Ulfric. Now this was just getting weird. High King?
"Sounds like you hold this Ulfric fellow in high regard," he said.
"Aye, that I do." the blonde Nord nodded.
"Wait... Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion!" the thief exclaimed, surprised. "But if they've captured you, then... Oh gods, where are they taking us?!"
"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits," the first man replied solemnly.
"Umm... yeah. Sovngarde. Not looking forward to going there anytime soon," Ghost added.
Their words only served to make the lowlife even more hysterical. "No, this can't be happening, this isn't happening!" he bawled pathetically.
"Hey... what village are you from, horse thief?" the blonde man asked, changing the subject.
"Why do you care?" the other man snapped.
"A Nord's last thoughts... should be of home."
"Oh. Rorikstead. I'm... I'm from Rorikstead." the thief murmured, eyes downtrodden.
The blonde man nodded sadly, then turned to face Ghost once more. "And what about you, woodsman? Where did you spend your boyhood?"
"Before I answer that, I have my own question for you," Ghost said craftily. "Have you ever heard of the Internet before?"
The Nord looked confused and intrigued at the same time. "Can't say I have. Tell me, what is this 'Internet' you speak of, and what does it have to do with anything?"
"The Internet is a... a deity from my homeland. It offers us mortals vast amounts of knowledge and entertainment, but it can also trick you and make your life miserable if you aren't careful of what you ask of it." Ghost replied half-truthfully. Inside, he felt a horrible sinking feeling in his gut. The stranger's answer confirmed the insane theory he had been suspecting- He wasn't in Russia anymore. Hell, he knew in the back of his mind that he wasn't even on Earth anymore, either.
"You know what, forget I said anything. You wouldn't know where I grew up if I told you."
His new friend eyed him curiously. "Aye. This Internet sounds remarkably similar to some of the Daedric Princes. And you don't seem to be from around these parts, judging from your attire and accent... What's your name?"
"My name is Simon. Simon Riley. But everyone calls me Ghost. My friend, the one on the floor, is called Roach." the operative said, giving his fellow soldier a light kick. Roach mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep.
"Ghost, huh? I can certainly see why some people would bestow you that label." the Nord chuckled lightly. "I'm Ralof, by the way."
"Nice to meet you, Ralof. Shame it couldn't have been under better circumstances."
(A few minutes later...)
"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" the head of the Imperial column called out. Another soldier who had been riding a horse behind their wagon spurred up beside it, taking a quick look at each of the helpless captives. Ghost thought he saw the Imperial's eye linger over Ralof for a second, but the rider moved ahead to talk with the carriage driver before his mind could draw a conclusion. The man soon moved back to his original position.
"Good. Let's get this over with," the aggravated-sounding head of the lance replied, most likely the general in question. The small convoy soon entered the front gates of a small town with high stone walls guarding it. Stone huts with thatched roofs, along with many curious citizens, populated the interior of the town.
It's like something straight out of a history book, Ghost thought to himself as the cart moved through the main street. The thief, who had remained quiet for a few minutes, started freaking out again.
"Shor, Mala, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me!" he wailed.
Ghost wasn't familiar with most of the entities listed, but one stuck out in his mind like a sore thumb: Akatosh. The booming voice that had mentally assaulted him and Roach back at the Russian-Georgian border had mentioned the very same word, or in this case, divine being. Was divine intervention from this strange world responsible for them being mysteriously transported there? Perhaps for some kind of heroic quest, like he had once dreamed of partaking in as a child?
No, that was just crazy. He and Roach were wounded special forces soldiers; nothing more, nothing less. They weren't anything magnificent compared to legends like Price or MacTavish.
Ralof, unlike the thief, remained perfectly calm by contrast, looking over to the horse-mounted general in disdain.
"Look at him; General Tullius the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this," he spat bitterly.
Roach finally began to stir, clutching his head and moaning in pain. "Ugh... Ghost? What the bloody hell just happened?" he asked weakly.
Ghost shifted to his side, unintentionally bumping Ulfric Stormcloak as he did so (which earned him an icy glare from the Jarl that went unnoticed), and helped his dazed comrade into the small seat.
"It's complicated, Roach. I'll explain more to you when I have the time," Ghost promised.
Roach looked at the others in the cart, then scanned the surrounding village. "... Meh, fine. I followed Captain MacTavish into that mountain base in Kazakhstan; I'll follow you in Ye Olde Weird Village."
Ralof gave a quick nod to the newly awakened sergeant. His eyes followed Roach's over the town. "This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in," he reminisced.
The carriage was drawing up close to a medium-sized stone tower with a small crowd gathered out front.
"Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe," Ralof continued. To Ghost, it felt like the Nord was talking more to himself now than any of them. On the porch of one of the houses, a small boy tugged at his father's tunic.
"Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?" he asked innocently.
"You need to go inside, little cub," the father responded nervously.
"Why? I want to watch the soldiers!" the boy protested.
The father shook his head and ushered his son through the front door. "Inside the house. Now."
At long last, the cart pulled up beside the tower. Imperial and Stormcloak soldiers alike milled about everywhere, though each of the Stormcloaks had his or her hands bound together. More prisoners. Tullius dismounted his horse and stood off to the side, looking impatient, while a female soldier clad in heavy steel armor shouted out orders. A captian, if Ghost had to guess.
"Wh-Why are we stopping?" the thief whimpered.
"What do you think? End of the line." Ralof snorted, still as calm and collected as ever. Roach's head snapped sideways to face Ghost, eyes wide under his goggles. Ghost could only shrug helplessly.
"Let's go. The gods are waiting for us."
The thief, now desperate beyond measure, started pleading to the Imperial soldiers approaching the cart.
"No! Wait! We're not rebels!"
"Face your death with some courage, thief!" Ralof thundered. The prisoners were now being escorted off the wagon in single file.
"You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!" the thief begged to Ghost and Roach. The two glanced at each other, then turned back to the pitiful man.
"You're right; this is a mistake. But based on what I've seen and heard, you probably deserve to die anyway." Ghost commented.
The thief nearly wet himself in terror. He stepped away from the two, shoulders shaking as he was wracked up in sobs.
"Wait, what's this about dying?" Roach asked in a frightened whisper.
Ghost shrugged. "I honestly don't know, Roach. Man, if I survive these next few minutes, I'm going to interrogate the shit out of that Ralof guy..."
"Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time!" the female captain shouted. The soldier who had given Ralof the stink eye earlier stood next to the captain with a small book and a quill in hand. He restlessly shifted his weight from one leg to the other, as if wanting to get this whole thing over with as quickly as possible.
"Empire loves their damn lists," Ralof scowled in contempt. The Imperial cleared his throat and looked down at the book.
"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm," he read. The Jarl in question calmly moved to join another small group of prisoners, giving the Imperials an icy glare the whole time.
"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric," Ralof said graciously with a small bow.
"Ralof of Riverwood," the soldier continued. Ghost noticed a small smile creep up on the man's face as he read Ralof's name. Clearly those two must've had history.
Ralof dramatically flipped his hair for show as he walked over to the doomed men and women.
"Lokir of Rorikstead."
The thief's fear finally got the better of him. "No, I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!"
He turned and made a last-ditch break for freedom back down the road.
"Halt!" the captain screeched. Lokir ignored her and kept running.
"You're not going to kill me!" he called back with a deranged laugh.
The captain sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Not another one... Archers!"
Ghost and Roach cringed as Lokir had about half a dozen arrows shot into his back.
"Sucks to be him," Ghost remarked.
"Anyone else feel like running?" the captain barked. Everyone stared at the ground and muttered several muffled no's. The soldier with the book checked it once more, then looked up at Ghost and Roach.
"Wait. You two. Step forward." he ordered.
Ghost complied fearlessly. Roach followed, though he looked less than brave doing so.
"Who are you?"
"Last person to ask me that was some hot-headed barbarian who knocked me out cold when I told him who I was. The next thing I know, I'm on a cart headed for an execution I did nothing to warrant." Ghost replied acidly. "I'm not entitled to tell you anything."
From the side, Ulfric Stormcloak raised an eyebrow. This strange man, with the unfamiliar accent and unknown equipment, spoke out against the Empire when one of its highest-ranking generals was watching? He would've made a fine addition to the rebel army.
"How the fuck were we supposed to know where this 'border' was located, anyway? All we saw was a forest." Roach added. "Please, could you just let us go and be on our way? This is all a huge misunderstanding. We promise you no further trouble."
His companion, on the other hand...
"Captain, what should we do? Rebels or not, they have a point. There are no more names on the list." the soldier asked.
The Imperial captain, however, was too busy glaring at Ghost to pay much attention to her subbordinate. How dare this masked foreigner insult the great Mede Empire!
"Forget the list, they go to the block!" she shouted furiously.
"I humbly approve that notion," General Tullius added, voice laced with venom. As the two lost Task Force 141 members moved into the group to stand near Ralof, the Imperial Legion's leader next turned his wrath to Jarl Ulfric.
"Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne." Tullius stated.
Ulfric just gave a muffled grunt from underneath his gag, trying to bore through his mortal enemy's head with those laser-like eyes.
"Whoa, back up, what did this guy do again?" Ghost whispered to Ralof.
"The right thing," the Nord whispered back.
"You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace!" Tullius declared. The Imperial soldiers cheered.
Roach's ears picked up an odd sound amidst the celebration: A strange, distant roar that echoed around the surrounding mountains. His gut instict told him to flee, but his feet disobeyed, staying rooted to the ground. He didn't want to end up like poor Lokir.
The others apparently heard it, too. "What was that?" the soldier with the list asked.
"It's nothing. Carry on..." Tullius ordered, brushing it off.
"Yes, General Tullius. Give them their last rights," the captain commanded to a waiting priestess.
The robed woman nodded under the shadow of her hood, raising her hands to the sky and beginning to recite a speech. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved-"
"For the love of Talos, just shut up and let's get this over with!" a red-haired Stormcloak interrupted, stepping forward defiantly. For some reason he had become quite annoyed at the mention of the 'Eight Divines'.
"As you wish," the priestess said coldly.
"Come on, I haven't got all morning!" the Stormcloak soldier raved. The captain, fed up with all the disorder at what was supposed to be a simple execution, roughly pushed him to the ground and forced his head onto the block with her steel-clad foot.
"My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?"
Those were his last words. The executioner raised his massive double-handed axe into the air, then brought it down with a clear cut that cleaved the man's smiling head right off his shoulders. Blood spurted from the neck as the head fell into a small basket.
"You Imperial bastards!" a female Stormcloak screamed from somewhere in the group.
"Justice!" a man on the street yelled. Roach forced himself to swallow the putrid vomit building up in his throat.
"As fearless in death as he was in life," Ralof commented sadly.
"Pssst... Roach. Ralof. I have a plan," Ghost murmured while the captain kicked the lifeless corpse aside. "Right before the next person gets executed, start causing a scene. Kick the guards, do anything to start a riot. We'll grab Ulfric and escape before anyone can restore order."
"I like that plan." Ralof nodded.
"What about our guns? We still haven't found them," Roach asked.
"Survival's more important than any weapon." Ghost said sagely.
"Next, the skull-faced ma-" the captain was cut off by another roar. Only this time it was louder, and sounded a lot closer than before.
"There it is again. Did you hear that?" the Imperial with the book persisted.
"I said, next prisoner!" the captain yelled. She shot a look in Ghost's direction.
"Aw shit," the lieutenant muttered.
"To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy."
Roach's heart threatened to burst out of his chest as he watched his friend being led to the block. The sergeant saved them both from death, but all the good it did for them was add a few extra hours to their lives. Now here they were, stuck in some kind of weird fantasy land where nothing made sense to him, about to get their heads chopped off as opposed to dying in a firey ditch. They had Ghost's plan to fall back on, of course, though Roach severely doubted they would get very far before they were captured again... or killed on the spot.
The captain shoved Ghost's head onto the block. Stubbornly, he turned his head to face his soon-to-be killer dead in the eye, the imposing stone tower and mountains decorating the background behind him. Ghost had to admit that, despite not having a damn clue where he was, the land looked truly beautiful in the morning sunlight.
The executioner raised his bloodstained axe once more. Time for action.
"Roach, now!"
An enormous shape suddenly fell from the sky and landed on the tower's roof. The force of the landing caused the executioner to stumble, dropping his axe in the process.
"What in Oblivion is that!" someone yelled.
Seizing this lucky opportunity, Ghost hastily got up and cracked his still attached neck.
"Wow guys, what the hell kind of distraction did you- OH MY GOD!"
"DRAGON!" the Imperial captain screamed.
The dragon took a deep breath and exhaled a strong torrent of fire and magical energy. The entire town of Helgen was instantly set ablaze, while dark storm clouds gathered up overhead. Any chance of the execution continuing was abandoned as the mythical creature continued its assault, unleashing more flames while archers' arrows harmlessly bounced off its scaly hide.
"Ghost! Roach! Let's hurry; the gods won't give us another chance!" Ralof shouted over the screams of panicked civilians. He grabbed the two by their arms and made a beeline for the keep.
"This way! Come on!"
The trio entered the stone tower, barely making it inside before another blast of heat and flame scorched the ground they had been standing on. On the hay-strewn floor lied a dead soldier and a wounded Stormcloak. Ulfric was also present, having discarded his gag and panting heavily.
"Jarl Ulfric!" Ralof greeted after a brief salute. "What is that thing? Could the legends be true?"
"Legends don't burn down villages." Ulfric grunted. His voice sounded unnaturally powerful, even for a ruler.
"Legends? What, you mean that slaughterfests getting interrupted by dragons who cause even more death doesn't happen often here?" Ghost asked sarcastically.
Ralof shook his head. "Nay, dragons haven't been sighted in centuries. This is all new to us."
"I could say the same," Roach muttered. Another harsh roar echoed from outside.
"We need to move, now!" the Jarl of Windhelm commanded.
"Up through the tower, let's go you two!" Ralof ordered. Ghost and Roach obeyed by instinct thanks to years of military service, following him up a winding spiral staircase. Unfortunately the top level of the tower was blocked off by collapsed rubble; another Stormcloak was trying to shift the rocks, but he wasn't having much luck.
"We just need to move..."
Before they could react, the dragon burst through the wall, knocking the three to the ground. Clinging to the outside of the tower with its lethally sharp talons, the beast stuck its head inside and breathed another white-hot jet of flame intermixed with a roar.
Roach, however, didn't hear a roar. Instead he heard words, spoken in an eerily familiar tongue.
"Yol Toor Shul!"
"Roach, get back!" Ghost shouted. He literally pulled his friend out of the line of fire before he was incinerated.
The dragon, not bothering to check if it had killed anyone, flew off to give those pesky archers a piece of its mind.
Ghost smacked the sergeant on his shoulder. "Roach, you okay?"
"Physically, yeah. Mentally, not so sure." Roach answered shakily.
"You'll be fine, lad." Ralof reassured him. "Now, see the inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going!"
Roach looked down outside. "You mean the one that's on fire?"
"What about you?" Ghost asked, ignoring his comrade.
Ralof shrugged. "I'll catch up."
"Oh... m'kay."
"Go! Ulfric and I will follow you when we can!"
Ghost fearlessly jumped down to the burning inn's second floor. Roach hesitated for a moment, but eventually jumped as well. Navigating their way through the fire and smoke, the two operatives soon descended down a flight of stairs and exited through the front enterance. The ruined inn collapsed in a pile of flaming straw and wood seconds after they made it out.
"Well, that was lucky," Ghost quipped.
"Hamming, get over here! Now!" a familiar voice shouted. The Imperial soldier from before was helping the same young boy who had wanted to watch the execution find shelter. The boy was crying and tightly clutching his injured right arm.
"That a boy, you're doing great!" the Imperial coaxed.
"Yol Toor Shul!"
Once again, only Roach heard the words, and once again Ghost had to yank his ass out of the fire's path.
"Gods!" the soldier exclaimed, shielding the boy with his body. "Everyone get back!"
At least this soldier seemed to have some humanity in him. Once the boy's father had been found, the Imperial noticed the two escaped prisoners nearby.
"Still alive, prisoners? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way."
He turned back to the father and his frightened son. "Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense."
"Gods guide you, Hadvar." the man said gratefully.
The heroic soldier, Hadvar, motioned for Roach and Ghost to follow him. Making a mad dash across the open plaza, he led them to a shadowed alleyway and cautiously made his way through it.
"That was a very brave thing you did back there," Ghost complimented.
"Don't mention it." Hadvar replied, not bothering to look back. Ghost didn't blame him; this entire town was now a combat zone, and he had to stay on full alert.
Roach suddenly perked up, having stayed quiet for a few minutes. "Guys, stay close to the wall! I hear something big coming!"
The trio flattened themselves against the wall just before the dragon landed on top of it and stretched its reptillian snout overhead. Huge, leathery wings spread outward as the creature drew breath.
"Yol Toor Shul!" it roared again.
"You guys are hearing this, right?" Roach asked frantically.
Ghost glanced back at him. "Hearing what? That loud fucking roar? Yeah, obviously!"
"Quickly, follow me!" Hadvar commanded. The three soldiers began another run through the corpse-ridden streets. The dragon was now occupied with the Imperial warrior trapped in its maw, flailing and biting on its unlucky victim like a dog with a chew toy.
"It's you and me, prisoners. Stay close!"
"You know, technically we're not your prisoners anymore," Ghost commented. As they ran towards the keep, he and Roach spotted Ralof emerging from a different alleyway. Ulfric wasn't with him.
Hadvar immediately grew furious at the sight. "Ralof you damn traitor! Out of the way!" he barked.
"We're escaping, Hadvar!" Ralof yelled back. "You're not stopping us this time!"
"Fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!"
So that's why Hadvar had been so hostile to Ralof on the way to the town, Ghost realized. The two were familiar with each other, but it was beyond obvious that they weren't on good terms anymore.
The two men simultaneously faced the lost Brits. "What are you waiting for? Come on prisoners, into the keep!" Hadvar ordered.
"No, this way! We'll be free!" Ralof argued, heading for a different door to the keep's interior.
While Roach seemed unsure, Ghost looked between them. "... Yeah, I'm going with Ralof. Bye Hadvar."
The Imperial tried to talk, but sputtered over his words in rage. Finally he forced out a sentence.
"You're going to regret this, traitors! Mark my words!"
Hadvar spun around and fled back down the alleyway.
Ralof, Ghost, and Roach quickly filed through the door before the Nord slammed it shut behind them. The three found themselves in a room mostly decorated with Imperial banners. A dead Stormcloak soldier was slumped on the ground near a small table.
"We'll meet again in Sovngarde, brother." Ralof said quietly, kneeling down and gently closing the man's eyelids with one hand. He stood up and looked back at his two followers.
"Looks like we're the only ones who made it. That thing was a dragon. No doubt. Just like the children's stories and the legends... the harbingers of the End Times," he murmured, again speaking more to himself.
"... What." Roach said flatly.
Ralof shook his head. "I'll explain more later; for now we better get moving. Come here. Let me see if I can get those bindings off."
"Finally! Those things are giving me some serious rope burn!" Ghost exclaimed in glee.
Taking a dagger off the table, the muscular Nord carefully cut through Ghost's bindings, then Roach's. "There you go."
"So what's the plan now?" the lieutenant inquired.
"First we find a way out of the keep." He nodded at the dead Stormcloak. "You may as well take Gunjar's gear. He won't be needing it any more."
The soldiers obeyed and began searching through the fallen man's belongings. Not wanting to get rid of their woodland camouflage outfits, they instead focused on looting any weapons they could find. Roach found another iron dagger that would perfectly compliment his knife in quick close-quarters combat. Ghost, on the other hand, went with an iron war axe.
When he saw the questioning look his comrade gave him, he merely responded with, "It's a freaking axe. I want it."
"Go ahead and give it a few swings; I'm going to see if I can find some way out of here." Ralof instructed, examining a nearby gate. "Hmm... this one's locked. Let's see about that gate."
Roach followed him while Ghost split the table in two for his own amusement. "Damn! No way to open this from our side."
"So we're trapped?" Roach gulped.
"Seems like it... hold on. I hear footsteps coming from the other side! Quick, both of you find a place to hide! I have a plan!"
In a flash, the Task Force 141 members pressed their backs against either side of the gate. Ralof intentionally remained in the open where he could be seen, waving at the Imperial squad as they came into view around a corner.
"Hey! Guess who just escaped your execution?! This guy did!" he taunted.
"It's him! Open the gate and kill that son of a bitch!" a voice shouted. The captain's voice, they recognized.
From his hiding spot in the darkness, Ghost smiled wickedly. Time for some payback.
The moment the gate lowered and the soldiers stepped through, Ghost and Roach made their move. Roach immediately lunged from his spot against the wall, then stabbed his dagger into one guard's back. Before she could cry out, the sergeant quickly and quietly slit her throat with his combat knife.
Ghost just violently cleaved his axe through the other guard's skull. As he fell, Ralof ducked under the Imperial captain's sword swipe and snatched the greatsword he held from his limp hands. Letting out a mighty battle cry, the Nord stretched to his full height, then gave a brutally powerful swing that instantly decapitated the captain. Her corpse hit the ground with an armored crash.
"Phew... that was fun," Ghost chuckled in between a few pants. "I- Hey, aren't these the goons who knocked us out?"
Upon closer inspection, the two soldiers realized that the guards accompanying the late captain were, indeed, Murlson and Hilda.
"Huh, so they are," Roach quipped.
Ignoring them, Ralof bent down and fished through the pockets of the captain's now-headless body. His searching awarded a small brass key.
"Let's try this out..." he muttered, moving back to the locked gate and inserting it into the keyhole. An audible click echoed inside the room, and the door lazily swung open. "That's it! Come on, let's all get out of here before the dragon brings the whole tower down on our heads."
The trio exited the room and descended a flight of stairs on the other side. They navigated through a set of twisting hallways for a minute, until another roar shook the entire underground.
"Look out!" Ghost warned, backing away moments before a portion of the ceiling collapsed in front of them.
"Damn, that dragon doesn't give up easy," Ralof growled.
Passing through an adjacent door, the three found themselves in a much more spacious area than before. Two more Imperial soldiers noticed the intruders inside.
"It's them! It's-!"
Before he could alert any reinforcements, one of the soldiers was impaled in the eye by an expertly thrown dagger courtesy of Roach. The other man was easily taken down by a simple flanking maneuver by Ghost while Ralof engaged him head on as a distraction.
After Roach recovered his dagger, they pressed forward into the next room. It was filled with crates, barrels, sacks, and other scattered containers. A large, locked wooden chest sat tucked away in a corner.
"A storeroom! See if you can find any potions. We'll need them." said Ralof.
He stood guard while the duo rummaged through the stockpiled items. Roach checked the barrels and found a few small red bottles, some cheese, several apples, and one green bottle. He pocketed each of those items in case they might be needed later.
While his companion moved about, Ghost went to work on the locked chest. The lock ultimately proved useless as the lieutenant's boot stomped down on the wooden lid, eventually breaking through it.
The skull pattern on his balaclava did all the malevolent grinning for him when he saw what was inside the chest.
"Roach? Roach, I found them! I found our guns!"
"Seriously?" Roach asked exitedly, jogging over to see for himself.
Sure enough, all of their lost equipment was stored safely inside the broken chest. Ralof watched from the side in confusion as the two operatives eagerly looted the container of every strange item they could get their hands on.
What those mechanical objects did, Ralof had no idea, but he didn't care. As long as whatever they were helped them get out of the keep alive, he wasn't about to complain.
"Done? Let's get moving." he declared.
Another flight of stairs led them somewhere far less pleasant. Skeletons hung in cages suspended from the ceiling, and corpses in various stages of decay sat locked up in tiny cells. Barbaric torture devices prompted Ralof to state the obvious.
"Troll's blood! It's a torture room!" the blonde man gasped in shock and horror.
Ghost nonchalantly looked around. "Meh, I've seen worse."
The sound of combat close by caught their attention. The three warriors rounded a corner just in time to witness a few Stormcloak soldiers slay a man in dark robes- the torturer, obviously- and his assistant. A female Stormcloak noticed the new arrivals and walked over to greet them.
"They weren't going to keep us in chains," she smirked. "Some help would've been nice, but fortunately we didn't suffer any casualties."
"Glad to see you alive, sister." Ralof bowed. "Was Jarl Ulfric with you?"
The woman shook her head. "No. I haven't seen him since the dragon showed up."
"Hm. Let's just keep going, then." the muscular Nord grunted.
"We'll come with you," another Stormcloak piped up.
"Alright, sweet. The more the merrier." Ghost chimed in.
In total, there were three Stormcloaks. The six of them moved deeper through the torture chambers- Roach once again tried to refrain from puking- before traveling down a small tunnel that led even deeper into Helgen Keep. Eventually they emerged into a large cavern with raised wooden walkways.
A total of ten Imperial soldiers, accompanied by another five archers, were waiting for them.
"There they are!"
"Kill the Stormcloaks!"
"We outnumber them!"
"Oh sweet Arkay is that a ghost?!"
"Ah hell..." muttered Ghost. "Roach, are you ready to show these bastards why it's a really bad idea to mess with the 141?"
Roach lifted up his M240 machine gun and took aim down the sights. "After seeing that torture room? Thought you'd never ask."
Ghost nodded and raised his ACR at the archers notching their arrows on the opposite side of the cave.
"Open fire!"
Thunder erupted in the cavern as the two soldiers unleashed hell. Before the Imperials could react, half of their number had been cut down by a hail of 7.62x51mm NATO rounds from Roach's LMG. The bullets pierced through their armor and flesh like wet tissue paper, creating a hilariously over-the-top spectacle of bloodshed and gore. The archers fared little better; nearly all of them were gunned down by the precision bursts of Ghost's assault rifle. Only one archer had managed to fire an arrow, but it went way off course as another bullet found its way inside his throat.
The remaining soldiers, once the initial chaos had died down somewhat, decided that their lives were more important than their pride and turned to flee. They didn't get very far. The combined firepower of both automatic weapons killed another four Imperials before they could reach the cavern's exit.
Roach holstered the M240 and pulled out his pistol. Exhaling a breath he hadn't known he was holding, he took steady aim and pulled the trigger. The round drilled straight through the back of the last man's skull and he slumped downward. He was dead before he hit the ground.
With the massacre complete, the Stormcloaks simply gazed at the mysterious foreigners with mixed expressions of wonder, bewilderment, and fear.
"Wh-What in Kynareth's holy name was that?" one man whispered. "You just wiped out a whole squad of General Tullius' soldiers in seconds! What are those strange weapons of thunder you carry?"
"Uhh... guns?" shrugged Ghost. "Standard issue where we come from."
"Well, they certainly get the job done." Ralof noted. "But we can discuss that later. We still need to get out of the underground as soon as possible."
The female Stormcloak approached him. "The boys and I shall stay behind, brother. We'll make sure none of Tullius' men follow you, and maybe see if Ulfric passes through here. Talos guide the three of you."
"And you as well, sister in arms." Ralof said gratefully. He led Ghost and Roach through a natural doorway out of the cavern and over to a drawbridge. "Come on. Let's see where this goes."
Roach pulled a lever to lower the bridge. Continuing forward, the trio soon found themselves in a beautiful cave with an underground river flowing through it.
Ghost whistled. "Nice place. We had nothing like this back in-"
An angry roar from the surface cut him off. Just like last time, dust fell from the ceiling moments before a portion of it collapsed into rubble over the doorway they had just come through.
"No going back that way, now. Guess we don't need the Stormcloaks guarding us anymore," Ralof sighed. "We'd better push on. The rest of them will have to find another way out."
"Most of the Imperials seemed occupied with that dragon; I think they'll be fine as long as they don't run into any stragglers." Roach assured the man.
The end of the river unfortunately led to a metal grate blocking the way forward. "Hmm... there has to be some way around this," Ralof mused.
Ghost doubled back to check for an alternate route, and in addition to some gold coins and another red potion they had missed earlier, he found a short tunnel leading away from the river.
"Here, let's try this way. I think we're getting close to an exit!" the lieutenant called to his traveling buddies.
The tunnel, however, led them straight into a massive spider's den. Mummified corpses wrapped in webbing swayed back and forth ominously from the ceiling, and large egg sacs dotted the walls.
To make matters worse, the den was occupied. Large creatures that resembled overgrown tarantulas emerged from their hiding spots, each of their eight eyes fixed on their prey and fangs dripping venom.
"... 'Course, I've been wrong before." Ghost said. He unclipped the dual G18 machine pistols from his belt while Roach hefted up his machine gun again. Ralof readied his greatsword in preparation to strike.
"Frostbite spiders! Don't let them get close; their venom can take down even the hardiest of men!" the Nord warned.
"You heard the man, Roach! Kill these eight-legged freaks!" Ghost shouted, already lighting up the dark cave with gunfire.
To put it short, the frostbite spiders stood about as much chance as the Imperials did against their attackers. They were all dead within seconds.
"I hate those damn things. Too may eyes, you know?" Ralof commented as he removed his sword from an unlucky spider's head.
"Hey Ghost, I just realized something important," Roach spoke up suddenly. "If we really are in some kind of backwards medieval fantasy land, then there's no way for us to get more ammunition for our guns. If we run out, then that's it."
"... Damn, you're right." sighed Ghost. "Fine. I guess that just means we'll have to prioritize our targets from now on."
Roach shrugged. "If it helps, then at least you'll get to use that axe more often."
A short walk later led them back to the river. The cave had opened up quite a bit; among the things laying around were an abandoned wooden cart stuffed with ale, a rusted iron helmet, a small pouch of gold... and a giant grizzly bear about to settle down for a nap.
"Hold up. There's a bear just ahead. See her?" whispered Ralof.
"Duh." Ghost replied while inwardly thinking, Does every damn thing in here besides the Stormcloaks want to kill us?
Roach unholstered his Barrett .50cal sniper rifle and looked through the scope. "I have a clean line of sight for a headshot. Want me to put her down?"
"I'd rather not tangle with her right now." Ralof frowned. "Let's try to sneak by. Just take it nice and slow, and watch where you step."
He then looked at the sergeant and added, "Or if you're feeling lucky, you can try to kill it. Might take her by surprise."
Roach pondered over his words for a moment. Then he reholstered his rifle. "Nah. I don't want to waste ammo if I can help it. Sneaking it is."
"Go ahead. I'll follow your lead and watch your backs." Ralof promised.
The trio of warriors crouched down and slowly began to make their way past the sleeping grizzly. A few times it snored or moved around, making them freeze in place and gaze at it expectantly, but it never awoke.
"Nice and easy now..." Ralof breathed.
They moved another few feet down the path.
"Almost there..."
Finally, after what seemed like forever, they made it past the bear's sightline. After taking a quick breather, the three men resumed their trek through the tunnels. Fortunately, they encountered no further nasty surprises.
A light in the distance soon drew their attention.
"That looks like the way out! I knew we'd make it!" Ralof exclaimed in joy.
Ghost and Roach fist-bumped; another minor victory for Task Force 141.
The three of them emerged from the keep's exit on the side of a snowy mountain peppered with evergreen trees. A very familiar roar suddenly rocked the earth, shaking some loose snow off the trees.
"Wait!" Ralof ordered, taking cover behind a nearby boulder.
Roach and Ghost quickly joined him in hiding. The dragon from earlier, its quest for destruction complete for now, suddenly flew by over the mountaintops and into the distant horizon.
"There he goes. Looks like he's gone for good this time." Ralof said with a sigh of relief.
"He'd better run. Now that I have my gun back, he'd better not expect me to run away next time." growled Ghost.
Roach remained silent, his mind flashing back to the dragon's odd chant earlier.
Yol Toor Shul.
What in the name of Price's beard did that mean?
Ralof interrupted his thoughs. "No way to know if anyone else made it out alive. But this place is going to be swarming with Imperials soon. We'd better clear out of here."
"So what should we do now?" Ghost asked.
"My sister Gerdur runs the mill in Riverwood, just up the road. I'm sure she'd help you out." Ralof replied. "It's probably best if we split up. Good luck, gentlemen. I wouldn't have made it without your help today."
"No way, Ralof. We're sticking together for now, at least until we reach this Riverwood place." Ghost said firmly. "And while we walk there, I'm going to ask you a couple of questions about where we are. And you're going to answer them."
Ralof's expression was unreadable when he answered.
"Fine. I'll tell you everything I can."
October 4th update: Fixed some grammar errors. I have a rough idea of what to do now, so the next few chapters shouldn't be much of a problem.
Next chapter will focus on Roach once more. This time, our brave heroes will explore the town of Riverwood, then tackle the challenges of Bleak Falls Barrow!
