Chapter 2: Brothers and sisters in bind

[17th of Last Seed 4E 201]

When I woke up again, I had no idea where I was at first, and I also did not have a clue how much time might have passed. With my eyes still closed and my eyelids feeling very heavy, I could hear some rattling noise like hard wheels on solid ground, I felt vibrations and sensed movement, and I noticed cool air on and around my body, which seemed to lack proper and warm clothes. My fur, though, apparently kept the cold out to a large extent and helped to keep me warm, which was good and felt nice and comfortable.

Wait a second – my fur? I had my hands resting on my thighs, and indeed I registered short but dense fur there, rather than bare skin with sparse body hair; in addition, I also noticed that my legs seemed to be much more massive and muscular than they used to be. What the …? With quite some effort, as I was still feeling very dizzy, I managed to open my eyes a little bit, and they confirmed my initial assessment. Not only my thighs, but all parts of my body I could see looked like they were fur covered. Above and beyond that, I seemed to be sitting on a hard bench or so in a wooden cart drawn by horses, and my body was jolted around almost constantly. What was going on, and where was I all of a sudden? Quite obviously I was not in my bed or anywhere else at home, I also could not be drunk, as I never drank anything with alcohol, so had I been drugged, or was this an odd dream? Oh, of course, I had dreamed of Skyrim many times before, and this was probably just the next dream chapter. Playing as a Khajiit had been my favorite lately, not necessarily for reasons like skills or perks, but just because I liked the exotic touch and look. Wow – what an interesting dream, indeed, and it felt so much more real than my dreams of Tamriel before, too.

With my mind being at ease for now, I closed my eyes again to give me a chance to recover from the dizziness I still felt, and I vaguely recalled glimpses from the earlier dream with Akatosh asking me to accept a new life in Skyrim, my car getting hit by the truck and myself levitating in the hospital, followed by the Dragon God giving me a chance to reconsider. Had that all really happened? If it had, this might not just be another dream at all, maybe one induced by high fever while I was in a coma or so. It might actually be the real Skyrim, with me on the carriage to Helgen, right in the middle of the intro at the start of the game, not playing, but living the events, courtesy of Akatosh and some other Divines. If it wasn't real, it was for sure the most realistic dream I had ever had, at least according to what I remembered. I could feel the rattling of the wagon wheels and smell some sweat and body odors from the people around me, providing a sensory input which did not normally happen in a dream, so it did indeed feel very real to me. Wow – had Akatosh actually spoken to me? Had the dream been a real vision, and had the Divines really not just brought me here, but also changed my body into a Khajiit? Also, if I was not going to be the Dragonborn, was this the cart to Helgen or another one going somewhere else, to some kind of alternate start? If the former applied, I was on my way to the block now, hopefully to be rescued by Alduin, the World-Eater. I shuddered when thinking about it; it was one thing doing the intro session and tutorial in the game, but in reality? Would it work out like in the game? First things first, though – Don't panic!

Slowly I opened my eyes again, a little wider this time, and the person sitting across from me apparently noticed that and used the opportunity to address me:

"Hey, you, Khajiit. Are you finally awake now? You got hit quite hard when that other Khajiit clubbed you on the head just before he managed to escape the Imperial soldiers, and I almost thought you'd never wake up. You were trying to cross the border, I assume, and they caught you, just like that thief over there?"

The last part, about the thief, was uttered with some disgust, and I realized that I was sitting across from Ralof, the Stormcloak. He looked just like in the game, blond and pale, with a somewhat rugged face and a beard, too, but so much more real than in the vanilla game. He had his hands bound in front of him, like mine were bound, too. I had no memory of being clubbed, but a part of my head actually hurt like from a lump. I did not recall another Khajiit either; if I got a chance, I should probably ask about that at a later time. When I raised my head and looked around, I could see some grass, flowers and bushes at the side of the road as well as trees and hills further away, and various noises of nature were around us, although they were mostly drowned by the noise from the moving cart. The sun was up, but it provided more light than nice and comfortable temperatures.

Next to Ralof was a ragged and scared looking Nord, apparently the thief Ralof had mentioned, who now complained:

"Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was just fine until you came along. The empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've been halfway to Hammerfell already with that horse I tried to acquire."

Really, 'acquire'? Sure. While that comment had been addressed to Ralof, he now looked at me:

"You there, Khajiit... You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire really wants, not us."

He was probably right with that statement. I did not trust my voice yet – I would have to find out later how to speak as a Khajiit and with a short snout instead of a human mouth and with a tongue which felt larger and longer – and thus I just slowly nodded.

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." That was Ralof again.

For a moment I pondered his statement; were we really 'brothers and sisters'? Did our status as Imperial prisoners automatically make us allies and friends? I was not sure about that yet, but thinking about the options would have to wait. For now, our guards seemed to dislike our conversation, and one of them, who was riding close to us on a horse, shouted:

"Shut up over there!"

We kept silent for a minute or two, and then Ralof lowered his voice and talked to me again:

"Why is a Khajiit so far from home? Are you a mercenary or so, maybe?"

I shrugged my shoulders and pondered his words. He could not know how far from home I really was, and I'd have to think about my background story at some time. As a Khajiit I might not be welcome in most cities, but I'd have to see how that worked in the real Skyrim – if I survived the execution scene, that is. While Ralof talked to me, I noticed that I had to look down at him; even when seated, my head was well above his. Apparently I really was like the big and tall Khajiit I had envisioned to be when playing. Well, that was cool, or at least I thought so.

The horse thief now spoke again:

"And what's wrong with him over there, huh?"

Ralof reprimanded the thief, of course:

"Watch your tongue, thief! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King of Skyrim!"

Of course – Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm and that hold called Eastwind or Eastfield or something like that, and leader of the rebellion. When I had played the game, I had usually either tried to stay neutral in the Civil War or joined the Empire side. The Stormcloaks were so racist that I could not stand it; 'Skyrim for the Nords' did not cut it for me, specifically, of course, when I played as Khajiit or Elf. When I had once played a Nord and Stormcloak supporter and had helped Jarl Ulfric to conquer Whiterun, it had felt so wrong to me to kill Jarl Balgruuf the Greater; I had done that only once. On the other hand, Talos had requested that I help to restore worship to all of the Nine Divines, and I'd only be able to do that on their side, or so I guessed at least. Interesting dilemma, but nothing I had to address right now. For the moment, I needed to survive and hope for Alduin to appear in time.

I did not pay too much attention to the next few sentences Ralof spoke, because when I looked over to my right and saw what must be Jarl Ulfric – the gag in his mouth clearly confirmed it – I found out that there was yet another person in the carriage with us. Close to my side and with her head resting on my upper right arm – she was on the petite side, and her head did not even reach my shoulder – there was a girl or young woman with medium dark skin, unruly dark brown shoulder length hair and long pointed elven ears, clothed in rags. The girl was either asleep or unconscious; I was not entirely sure but assumed that she was a Bosmer, a wood elf. If memory served me right, the wood elves were the smallest elf race, and I found myself unable to properly judge her age. On Earth I would have seen her as a girl in her mid teenage years and surely not much older, but here I really did not know; the game did not have that many female Bosmer, and I had never bothered to learn much about them.

While I had taken my time to look around, we approached a town, and soon I heard the familiar announcement:

"General Tullius, welcome back in Helgen, sir! The headsman is waiting!"

"Good. Let's finally get this over with."

How many times had I heard those or similar words when playing the game? I had never bothered to install a mod to skip the start scene, but I had usually kept playing for a long time once a character had been created, so that had been just fine. Now I was really here, and in my new reality now this town, Helgen, looked much more impressive than in the game. Thinking about that I realized that I could see my environment very clearly, even without wearing glasses any longer; that was good and very fortunate; I severely doubted that I'd be able to find an optometrist store anywhere in Tamriel. Besides, a Khajiit with glasses would really be odd. The colors were slightly different from what I had seen in the game, but that might just be due to my Khajiit eyes; contemplating that, did I now have cat eyes with vertical slit pupils rather than round ones? Further, I could not only see and hear, but also smell and feel my environment. In particular, the variation of smells confused me, and I assumed that I now had improved senses, with being a Khajiit and no longer a human being. For instance, I could sense the aroma of roast meat from the inn we passed. That reminded me that I was hungry, and I wondered for a moment what kind of diet I needed; would I still be able to eat like a human or better something more focused on meat, maybe even raw meat? Even more important, would the upcoming events even allow me to survive and get a chance to eat, or would I die right here in Helgen, with an empty stomach? Surely Akatosh would not have spent the effort to bring me here if that was the plan, I hoped and mused.

The cart slowed down, and the coachman called for the horses to stop, close to a wall; I understood that we had reached our destination. The headsman was waiting, and if things went according to plan, Alduin would soon show up. At least it wasn't raining, so that we should be able to enjoy the show. Oh boy, I was not sure if I was ready for that, but there was probably no way back now.

The carts, the one I was in and two others with more Stormcloaks, had stopped, with the horses facing a wall, and we were all roughly shoved out, so that I had to be careful not to fall down, with my bound hands. A female Imperial officer, who looked way too smug, so that I started to dislike her right here and now, commanded:

"Step towards the block when we call your name. Slowly, and one at a time."

Seriously, did she think that we were in a rush to be put to death? Close to one of the guard towers, a roughly shaped block had been prepared, and it was obvious, judged by the person next to it, with a special hood and a huge axe, what that block was to be used for. Well, at least I found out that I could walk very nicely on my new Khajiit feet, and I managed to avoid the embarrassment of stumbling and falling, although it was a close call during my first steps. I so hoped that I'd get the chance to actually run and jump later on, but first I'd have to evade the block and hope that Alduin would arrive as planned, and not like a couple of minutes after my execution. After all, I did not think that I had a 'reload' or 'start new game' option any longer. Running now, though, with quite a few archers around, might not be a smart idea at all.

"The empire loves their damn lists" was Ralof՚s dry comment, once he had taken in the scene. He had not seen bureaucracy in Germany yet, though, and I almost chuckled when I made this comparison in my mind. A few of the prisoners started to talk, and the female officer commanded:

"Silence over there!"

I wondered what she'd do if we weren't going to obey; have us killed? Another Imperial soldier, who had some sheets of paper in his hands – presumably Hadvar – said:

"Ulfric Stormcloak – Jarl of Windhelm."

I got lost in my thinking for a few minutes while the other Stormcloak soldiers were called by name, including Ralof of Riverwood, who had been sitting right across from me, but paid attention again when the horse thief – I had not even caught his name – started to run and was killed by the archers. I shuddered when I realized that somebody had actually been killed now, and it had looked so much more real than a movie, with the body jerking from the impact of the arrows, blood clearly being visible, the stench going with it, as well as the last few moans from the dying person. This was way too realistic for a dream. Besides, shouldn't I have warned the thief that they'd kill him right away if he ran? I guess that I should have tried at least, but most likely he would not have listened to me anyway. Nevertheless I felt a little bit guilty, but I did not have time to think about the situation and events further, as a young looking female Dunmer I had not seen before was now brought forward. She was led out from the keep by two soldiers, and she had obviously not been part of the group on the carts. She was too far away from me to understand her name when she was asked, and I did not get a chance to think about her – had there actually been a Dunmer among the prisoners in the game at Helgen? – as the next question was directly addressed to me:

"You over there, the big Khajiit. Step forward. Who are you? What is your name and your occupation?"

In the game, this was the opportunity to define your character, but this was reality for me now, and no mysterious pop-ups and character creation screens allowed me to change my looks. I hoped that Akatosh and the other Divines had thought about that, and I'd have to take what I got. Actually, this was probably better than anything I could have come up with; I had never been good at all in defining my own looks in the game, and I had never bothered too much either, because I almost always played in first person mode and did not see myself anyway. Here and now, I just hoped that some Divine had tweaked the presets properly, and if not, there might still be this face sculptor in Riften. But, what about my name? Should I use my real name or a fantasy name? Should I make a joke and call myself 'Max Mustermann' or the English language equivalent 'John Doe' or so? No, that would not fit a Khajiit, and spontaneously I decided to use the name I had used last when playing as Khajiit, although I did not really know if this was an authentic Khajiit name:

"My name is B'lushona, and I am a peaceful traveler and scholar, neither a soldier nor a thief."

I had spoken for the first time, and my voice was very different from what it had been in my previous body. I now had a deep and almost growling voice, fitting a strong and tall Khajiit – I thought and hoped – and I liked very much what I heard. Too late I recalled that Khajiit in Tamriel had their own way of speaking, usually referring to themselves in the third person or as 'this one'; I hoped that this would not matter too much. Of course, I knew quite well that stating my name would not make a difference anyway, and I was not going to be disappointed. Hadvar tried to offer a partially friendly comment, at least:

"At least you can speak properly, but if you're actually a scholar, you must have lost your way. Did you try to invade Skyrim and join one of the trade caravans, Khajiit? Your kind always seems to find trouble."

Really, 'invade'? Like I was a one man army? Where did he get that from? So, a person could not just get lost or so? But all right, my way of speaking 'normally' at least seemed to be acceptable. And of course I could understand his worries; as far as I recalled, Khajiit in Skyrim were mostly found in caravans and had some reputation for stealing and causing trouble. For a moment I wished that Inigo was here with me, but he was from a mod, too, and even if he was really here in Skyrim, he'd be waiting for me in Riften, or maybe he'd be waiting for somebody else, like the Dragonborn.

Next, the petite wood elf girl who had been sitting next to me on the carriage was the one to be questioned. She had been jolted out of her sleep or faint when we had been pushed from the carriage earlier, and I could see her big eyes looking around with obvious fear. Seeing her face made me understand for the first time what the phrase 'big doe eyes' was supposed to imply, and, judged by the way she looked, the earlier killing of the horse thief had scared the living daylight out of her. When it was her turn to say her name, she had had to be asked twice, and even then she just replied in barely more than a whisper:

"Fiona."

Even when prompted she did not provide any further details, and Hadvar told her, with a trace of sympathy in his voice:

"Not many wood elves would choose to come alone to Skyrim."

She opened her mouth as if to reply something, but closed it again, obviously realizing or at least suspecting that whatever she said would not make a difference here and now, or maybe she was just too scared. Looking into his list and obviously missing our names there, Hadvar turned around and told his officer:

"Captain! What should we do? The male Khajiit and the female Bosmer are not on the list! Surely the young elf girl is not a spy?"

"Forget the list, Hadvar. They go to the block as well."

Of course; what else?

"By your orders, Captain. Prisoners, follow the Captain!" One could clearly see that Hadvar did not agree, but he had received an order and there was nothing he could do to change it. I could not be sure, but I thought that he added a subdued "I am sorry", just for us to hear.

The general now stepped closer and started to talk with a very smug and even cruel looking face:

"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."

Ulfric tried to reply, but of course could not as he was muffled. Were they really going to kill him without a trial? Well, maybe there had been a trial before already; what did I know after all?

I noticed that the general was flanked by a few tall elvish people in shining armor, likely Thalmor, and he continued his one-sided accusations:

"You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace, once and for all. I have won, Ulfric, and you know it! Your death will end the rebellion and finally bring peace and order back to Skyrim again. It's about time; this skirmish of yours has raged for too long already."

Right at this time there was a distant roar in the background, but nobody except me really paid attention. I almost smiled when I heard it, knowing exactly what it implied. I watched a priest offering the last rites, and I felt almost like being in a movie theater when the first Stormcloak was put to death. Well, at least I tried to imagine that I was watching a movie – a man had just been deliberately killed! Again I shuddered when I realized that this was not a film or a game; this was part of my new reality, and it sure would not be the last kill I'd have to watch. Sooner or later I might even have to kill somebody, and I hesitated to think about it. That was certainly something I had not considered when I had volunteered to come here.

The noise I knew to be a dragon roaring sounded again, closer and louder this time, and Hadvar asked:

"There it is again, this noise. Did you hear that?"

The Imperial Captain was not concerned: "I do not care about the noise – next prisoner!"

"To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy."

This was addressed to the wood elf girl. Why was it her turn now? Wasn't the Dragonborn the one being called to the block right when Alduin approached? So, maybe it was her? She had been sitting left of Ulfric in the cart – check; she was called to the block when Alduin approached – check. Well, why not? If I had played as a Khajiit or Breton a few times, why not a Bosmer? But wait, I was supposed to be her companion and protect and assist her? This tiny little girl, who was already trembling? She was cute, I gave her that, but clearly not a warrior, unless I was very much mistaken. In my book and my imagination, the Dragonborn always was a strong and brave warrior and hero; a woman was fine, but at least she was supposed to be some kind of Amazon, like Xena, the warrior princess, or maybe Wonder Woman, or even like Lara Croft, right? The petite wood elf looked more like … a teenage witch? On the other hand, if this was really Skyrim – and it did appear like it was – she might actually be able to cast magic, so maybe she was really something like a witch or a mage or a wizard or whatever they called magic users here. And, of course, I was not a warrior either, although some might expect me to be when they just looked at my size. I could hear the Bosmer girl crying now, and I understood most of her words:

"Was wollt ihr denn alle von mir? Ich hab' nichts getan, und ich hab' keine Ahnung wie ich hierher gekommen bin! Bitte, lasst mich gehen!"

{„What do you all want from me? I haven't done anything, and I have no idea how I got here. Please, let me go!"}

Wait a second – she was talking in German, my native language! I had not even consciously realized that all of the conversation until now had been in English language. I was absolutely fluent in English and had even spent a few years of my career living in the USA, and I had always played the game in its native language, so that was normal for me. I guess that I could consider myself lucky that Tamrielic or Cyrodiilic or whatever they called their own language was not an entirely different and foreign language. The Bosmer girl, though, seemed to have some trouble adapting. Either the real Skyrim had German as native language for wood elves or she was also originally from Earth, or both; hopefully I'd have time to talk to her later about that.

For now, the sobbing girl was pushed down on the block, hard. A guard had his boot between her shoulders, forcing her down, and her head was pushed sideways, facing me, so that I could see the sheer terror in her eyes. Interesting, I thought; in the game, the Dragonborn faced the tower, not the others. But anyway, with me being next in line, I now was in a first row position to see the huge black dragon approaching from between the clouds.

The general shouted now: "What in Oblivion is that?"

The captain also was not sure: "I don't know. Sentries! What do you see?"

One of them replied: "There's something big, but it's in the clouds!"

[Author's Notes: Here we go – an elderly electrical engineer with no combat experience is here as a Khajiit. He does not memorize every detail, and without a map pop-up option or fandom wiki access he is likely to misspell some places from time. It's not a big spoiler to say that not everything will go smoothly. Reviews are greatly appreciated, if you can find the time to write a few words.

There are of course other stories about human 'self-inserts', but the majority of them have the narrator and/ormain person turn out to be Dragonborn themselves. Let's see what the Divines have planned for our hero.]