Emergence

Ralof and Mauronk made short work of the torturer and his apprentice down below, as I pretty much kept my distance. Watching the Orc was an eye-opener in a lot of ways, frequent full Monties notwithstanding. Maybe it was the exoticness of his being non-human, but I couldn't take my eyes off him. I wondered if I would have been just as transfixed by an elf, or even a Khajiit or Argonian. Possibly, but I probably wouldn't have been drooling over the latter two. Likely not an elf, either. Speaking of freaky eyes... He had eyes like a Dunmer, come to think of it, making me wonder if there hadn't been some embarrassing hanky panky in his family tree at some point.

Mauronk was a pretty controlled fighter, too. I watched him tear into the torturer with measured swings, applying just enough force to drop his opponent and move on to the next, even though Ralof had the other taken care of. I tried my hand at picking the locks on the cell doors, and actually did a pretty good job. Eventually, anyway. I broke about half a dozen lockpicks to manage it. All those times through the game playing stealthy characters certainly paid off, though, because once I had the feel for it, they got a bit easier.

The next batch of opposition we faced was in a more open cavern with a gurgling stream running through. The architects erected walkways and bridges, but Mauronk disdained them as he leaped right off with a roar, landing heavily on an Imperial archer down by the stream. Across the way, a couple more archers were shooting at us, thankfully with as good aim as Stormtroopers from "Star Wars." Ralof engaged a swordsman on the narrow bridge over the stream, while I fumbled with the torturer's apprentice's bow.

What I wouldn't give for a flaming arrow, because I could see the oily sheen on the walkway under the archers. Of course, as soon as I lamented it, I realized I was standing right next to a torch in a wall sconce. Getting the arrow shaft to catch wasn't easy, and took a bit of patience. The wood had been treated with something to keep it from warping in damp conditions, apparently, and it wouldn't take the flame for several moments.

When a spark finally caught, I nocked the arrow and aimed it for the stone floor on the opposite walkway, then let it fly, because the flame suddenly burst into life, threatening to consume the bow I held. That would have been really embarrassing.

The arrow skidded across the floor and into the oil. The resulting fwoosh as the oil caught on fire was both satisfying and nauseating. Two men, albeit men who were actively trying to kill us, burst into flames and died horribly right in front of my eyes. What was worse, I did it. For the second time, I launched a stomach volley, this time sinking to my knees and leaning on my hands.

"Get up," Mauronk snarled, grabbing me by the collar of my hauberk. I staggered weakly to my feet.

"Are you all right?" Ralof asked, concern on his face. I nodded, then shot a hateful look at the insensitive Orc. He just looked sort of... indifferent, I guess. His expressions were pretty hard to read, what with the red eyes and the big-ass tusks setting his mouth in a permanent grimace.

I didn't want to look like a complete wuss or anything, but the least Mauronk could do was show a little sympathy, you know? I just set a couple of strangers on fire, for crying out loud. I shook all over as we passed their bodies, contorted in agonized poses, charred to a crisp. This was another thing the game hadn't prepared me for: seeing the aftermath of a burning like that.

Ralof eventually led the way into a cavern with spiders in it, and that's where I really lost it. I'm not a big fan of spiders to begin with. Present me with half a dozen the size of a cow, and I come completely unhinged. The arrows never came out of my quiver, the bow didn't get unslung from my back. I curled up in a ball and screamed, over and over again, my arms covering my head.

This time, the Orc didn't content himself with hauling me to my feet. Once he had me up, he slapped me across the face.

I'd missed the entire fight in my hysteria, and now he was standing in front of me covered in greenish ichor. I think he was scowling more than usual.

"What are you doing, Orc?" Ralof barked, pushing him away from me. Mauronk rounded on the Nord.

"She hinders us," he roared. "Would you indulge her weakness? We will all die if you do."

"She is not a warrior!" he cried. "Let her be!"

"No, really, I'm fine," I ventured weakly, still shaken up. I tentatively touched my cheek and winced. It still hurt. "You're a real prize, Mauronk."

He grunted. "Now you will fight when it is needed."

"Hardly," I snapped. "More likely I'll just hide from you."

"And I will strike you again, and again, until you are less of a burden!" he retorted.

"If that's your attitude, maybe my next arrow will go right up your ass!"

"As long as you send one, I do not care where it goes!"

"Up your ass it is, then!"

He was quivering, actually shaking with rage, and it was probably Ralof pushing him back that kept him from giving me a good walloping right then and there. I could tell this relationship was going to be a rocky one.

I was glad when we put that cavern full of tunnels and embarrassing moments behind us, even if it meant being out in the open with a flipping dragon still around. We saw it fly over, heading northward.

"We should go to Riverwood, before the Imperials swarm over the hills, looking for us," Ralof said once the dragon disappeared in the distance. "They should be warned. We will seek out my sister, Gerdur, and tell her what has happened."

I was a little surprised that Mauronk didn't put up a fuss, though I could hear him grumbling under his breath. I could tell he didn't really want to spend any more time with us than he already had, and I couldn't say I blamed him. The whole thing was playing out too much like a script for me, and I didn't like being dragged by the nose, either. I kept thinking the only reason I was there was to fulfill the whole prophecy of being Dragonborn, and I did not think I was up to the task. Me, save the world? I couldn't even save a cat from a tree if I had the whole of my town's volunteer fire department at my side.

We made our way down the hillside, and it was becoming clear to me that this world was a ton bigger than the game version. I remember being able to see Bleak Falls Barrow in the distance the moment I stepped out of the cavern. I was able to make out the huge archways in front of the entrance even that far away. Double the distance, as was the case now, and it was a few darker shapes near the top of a mist-shrouded mountaintop so far away I wasn't even sure I was looking at the same mountain.

Except that Ralof made reference to it in passing, wondering why his sister wanted to live in its shadow, just like he did in the game.

It took us hours to get within sight of Riverwood. I was completely exhausted by then, and willing to do anything for a hot shower and a bed. Especially the hot shower, because remember I was wearing ragged clothing from who knows where, and armor stripped off a dead guy who'd been sweating from terror and adrenaline right before he died. I felt like I was dressed in an insect coat, and the natives were getting restless.

First order of business appeared to be unloading all the junk we collected, so Mauronk and I went to the local smithy and traded off all the extra armor and weapons we'd scavenged from the Imperials. It was nice to have a pocketful of coins instead of crap peeled off a dead guy, which I hastily traded for leather armor that hadn't been in contact with anything deceased. Not after it was skinned off the original host animal, that is. The Orc divested himself of the Imperial steel as well, going for more 'generic' steel instead. Again, not too troubled by the fact that he was standing in the center of a bustling little town full of innocent women and children who probably didn't want an unobstructed view of his junk. I was getting to the point where I could pick this Orc out of a lineup with only the one bit showing.

I, on the other hand, went into the smith's house to change. Some of us have at least a passing acquaintance with courtesy.