Mr. B Egret Presents:
The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim: The Dragonborn
(Original IP owned by Bethesda Game Studios)
Chapter I: The Prisoner in the Cart
'Why did today have to happen? There's just too much happening in Skyrim, things that I shouldn't even be concerned with. Now, I'm on my way to some Imperial prison or something along with these three fools.' Those were the thoughts going through the mind of one of four individuals sitting in a cart.
The one across from them looked at them and sighed, "hey you, you're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, weren't you?"
They didn't answer the man with words, but a glare instead.
"You walked right into that Imperial ambush, just like us and that thief over there."
"Damn you Stormcloaks," the brown haired man in the cart cursed. "Skyrim was fine until YOU came along, Empire was nice and Lazy! If they hadn't found you, I could've stolen that horse and be halfway to Hammerfell by now!"
"Hey, you back there, shut up!" The Imperial driver ordered.
"...And what's with him?"
The Prisoner looked towards a man similar to the one who talked to them; he was gagged for some reason and wore an outfit that a Jarl would wear, albeit in somewhat darker colors, unlike everyone else.
"Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true high king!" The first man scolded.
"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm and leader of the rebellion? Oh gods, WHERE ARE THEY TAKING US?!"
'Figures! As if today couldn't get any worse, I'm riding with a bunch of war criminals!' The Prisoner thought as they scowled at the men.
...
As they arrived in town, Helgan was its name, they spotted some individuals in black robes.
"The Thalmor, what are they doing here?!" The man across from The Prisoner exclaimed. "Damned elves, I bet they had something to do with this!"
Soon, the four reached their destination, or rather: their FINAL destination.
"Out of the cart, prisoners!" A woman's voice barked.
One by one, the prisoners exited the carts for their execution, like cattle being herded to a slaughterhouse. A few of the Thalmor watched this from the background.
"Ah, what a fine day for execution," one of them said with a smile on his face.
"Whatever do you mean, sir?" A Thalmor soldier asked. "You never attend executions."
"That's because most of the time, it involves these filthy Nords. Today is special, because we have a special kind of filth: the Jarl of Windhelm Ulfric Stromcloak." A Thalmor in glass armor explained.
"This will be entertaining to watch," the first Thalmor said while stroking his chin and smiling. "Hopefully at least one of them will reach Sovengarde."
"Ulfric Stormcloak of Windhelm," a brown haired man known as Hadvar called out as he read through a list of names.
"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric." The man who would later be revealed as Ralof said while looking down as the Jarl marched towards the chopping block.
"Ralof of Riverwood. Lokir of Rorikstead."
"No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" Lokir protested before breaking off into a sprint.
"Halt!" The Imperial Captain shouted.
"You're not going to kill me!"
"Archers!"
Soon as the order was given, Lokir was felled by arrows into his back, long before he could reach the gate. He was proven wrong, but not the way he intended.
"Anyone else feel like running," the Captain asked rhetorically.
"Wait, you there, step right up." Hadvar requested. "Who are you?"
"I'm just a Nord, like the rest who are getting executed today." The Prisoner finally spoke with a sigh.
Indeed The Prisoner was a Nord. He had typical typical Nord features except for his hair (or rather lack of it), as it was a bit shorter than the others but still unkempt and messy, and facial hair seemed to be completely absent.
"You've picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, Kinsman. Captain, what should we do? He's not on the list!"
"Forget the list, he goes to the block." The Captain answered.
"By your orders, Captain. I'm sorry. At least you'll die here in your home country. Follow the Captain, prisoner."
'Even if I were a true Nord or believed it, I doubt I'll ever get into Sovengarde.' The Young Nord thought as he listened to the ramblings of the others, as well as hearing a foreign sound, all the while watching as the first prisoner's head was separated from his head by the swing of the executioner's axe.
"YOU IMPERIAL BASTARDS!" A woman's voice cried out.
"JUSTICE!" A man in the crowd cheered.
"DEATH TO THE STORMCLOAKS!" A different woman's voice added.
"As fearless in death as he was in life," Ralof mourned.
"Next, the Nord in the rags!" The Captain called out, pointing towards him. Suddenly, everyone heard the same mysterious sound in the distance.
"There it is again!" An unknown voice asked.
"I said 'NEXT PRISONER'," the Captain demanded in a much more firm tone.
"To the block, prisoner, nice and easy." Hadvar requested with a sigh.
As everyone watched as the Young Nord meandered towards the chopping block, a Thalmor soldier demanded, "can we hurry this along? I want to see Ulfric Stormcloak next!"
"Patience," the hooded Thalmor advised. "It's best he be executed last."
As the Nord lied his head down on the block, he soon felt a rush of wind, followed by a flapping sound.
"What in Oblivion is THAT?!" A voice called out.
"Sentries, what do you see," the Captain asked.
"Shit...," the Nord muttered under his breath as he could see what 'it' was. Black as darkness and as large as a house, this 'thing' was known by one name alone.
"DRAGON!" A woman's voice called out, right before the beast... SHOUTED... at them, followed by summoning balls of fire from the sky.
The Nord, now lying on the ground, was pulled to his feet by Ralof. "Come on, the gods won't give us another chance!" He urged.
The two ran as quickly as they could into the tower, closing the door behind them. They heard the screams coming from outside of the Imperials who were being charred alive like fine meat, roasting over a fire on a spit.
Ralof turned to Ulfric and asked, "Jarl Ulfric, what is that thing? Could the legends be true?"
"Legends don't burn down villages." Ulfric answered somewhat ominously.
Ralof said to the Nord, "come on, let's go! Up through the tower!"
Before reaching the top, the dragon burst through the wall and shouted the words 'toor shul' before letting out a stream of fire.
...
Elsewhere in Helgan, the Thalmor were pulling out. The leader of them still looked at the carnage the dragon was causing.
One of the soldiers asked, "sir, shouldn't we be reporting this to the embassy?"
"Hmm, yes...," he replied as he clasped his chin and smiled. "The embassy most certainly must know of this... 'dragon'!"
...
"Ralof you damned traitor, OUT OF MY WAY!" Hadvar exclaimed as he encountered Ralof again.
Ralof protested, "we're escaping, Hadvar! There's nothing you can do about it!"
Just before the Nord could decide who to go with, the dragon landed behind him.
"You cannot prevail against me," it spoke, "I will outlast you, mortal!"