"-ight into that Imperial ambush, same as us. And that thief over there!"
"Auurghhh. . .'' I audibly groan, and lift my newly rope-bound hands to my head.
"Damn you Stormcloaks, Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy." I looked up. The "thief," the gruff looking, yet very kind eyed man off to my left on the other side of the ' wooden cart?', had accused was ranting about some Empire.
"If they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell." He paused. "You there, you and me should be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants." This time he seemed to have directed a complaint directly to my left at another man. This one though, seemed no younger than 20 and just as confused as me. He eyed the thief with a questioning look and seemed like he was about to berate the man with all sorts of questions before the kind eyed man interrupted him.
"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." There was a hint of venom behind the scrawny man's nickname.
"Shut up back there." I turned my attention towards the cart driver. He was wearing a sort of leather 'roman armor?' It certainly had the look of ancient romans, albeit a very watered-down version.
"What's wrong with him, huh?" There was genuine curiosity in the thief's voice now, it seemed he had temporarily forgotten his situation.
Before I could find out for myself, the person adjacent to him quickly and angrily answered. "Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!"
'Wait. Ulfric Stormcloak, the Empire, High King, . . . Skyrim.'
'Oh.' It felt like I had forgotten how to breathe, this couldn't be Skyrim could it? The person to my left nudged me, snapping me out of my momentary haze.
"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm?" The thief, Lokir, if I remember correctly, has a moment of realization. "You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you. . . oh gods. Where are they taking us?"
"I don't know where we're going, but sovngarde awaits." But if that's Ralof, then the person across from him must be. . . "Dragonborn." I whisper. The man to my left turns in my direction, looking at me quizzically before returning his attention to Ralof. 'If this really is Skyrim, I need to be careful'.
It appears that the Dragonborn's movement alerted Ralof, as he soon after turned in my direction. "They dropped you with us pretty abruptly, I heard talk that you had been with a gang of bandits over by Falkreath." He paused, looking like he was about to scold me-
"No! This can't be happening, this isn't happening." Lokir again. Whether he forgot, or became uninterested, I was spared a lecture and a handful of improvised lies.
Soon after his interruption Ralof questions Lokir about his home. "Rorikstead. . . I'm-I'm from Rorikstead." Ralof sat back on the rough bench and sighed. "A nord's last thought should be of home. . ."
Right as he said ended his sentence the convoy came up on a town, signifying the end for the residents of the carts. The guards, posted on the rocky walls of the settlement recognize the prisoner transport and promptly open the gates. On of them calls out to their leader:
"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!"
"Good," He replies "Let's get this over with."
Lokir's eyes widen, not ready to meet their fate and begins to hurriedly pray. "Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me."
As we pass into the town, Helgen, Ralof looks towards Tullius and his two accomplices with malice. "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." 'They always do.'
Ralof sighs again, " 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." Pause, "Funny, when I was a boy Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."
"Yeah," I replied, trying to understand him. It's hard to imagine going from being protected by something to being hunted by it all for your beliefs and traditions. Though the Empire isn't completely in the wrong.
He nodded and glanced down before looking back up at me. "I understand." I continued.
"Huh, never thought I'd hear a bandit be sympathetic. We're nearing the block now, best say your prayers."
I could hear murmurs from the onlookers. I knew everyone else could too. It all seemed so bleak, the townsfolk would live to see another day, while we were meant to spend our last moments under their pitying and harsh looks and words. Of course, I knew better, but still. . .
We came to a halt just before an archway that cut through one of the stone walls. "Get these prisoners out of the carts. Move it!" Their captain yelled her orders.
"Why are we stopping?" Lokir asks. "Why do you think? End of the line." Ralof again.
Our cart driver quickly jumps off his seat to begin funneling us off the back. "Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us." Lokir glances at me and the Dragonborn: "No! Wait! We're not rebels!" "Face your death with some courage, thief." "You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!"
The Imperial Captain yells over Lokir's attempted excuses, "Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time!"
"Empire loves their damn lists."
Hadvar, the one with the list, calls our names one by one:
"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." Ulfric steps up, then over to the line in front of the chopping-block. "It has been an honor Jarl Ulfric." Ralof adds.
"Ralof of Riverwood." Ralof steps out.
"Lokir of Rorikstead." Lokir steps up, "No! I'm not a rebel. You can't do this!" He runs past the captain who yells for him to stop, "Archers!" "You're not gonna kill me!" Just as fast as they pull their bows off their backs he falls dead, a fresh pool of blood seeping out from under him and an arrow in his back. "Anyone else feel like running?"
"You two." Hadvar catches our attention. "Who are you?" He motions to the Dragonborn to speak first. "Elias, from Morthal." Hadvar nods, "Head to the block prisoner." He looks at me. "And you, Breton?" Breton? "Will." He gestures towards the line of prisoners, writing as he does. "Follow the captain prisoner."
My legs feel shaky as we make our way over. Even though I know the outcome, it's still a very nerve wracking experience, to be lined up, waiting to be killed. General Tullius giving his speech only serves to solidify my feelings.
". . .Some here in Helgen call you a hero," Everyone else has already been offloaded. "But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne." Ulfric, being gagged, does his best to defend his actions but nothing he attempts to say is eligible. "You started this war," Tullius continues, "plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace!"
Just then, a faint roar can be heard in the distance. "What was that?" Hadvar asks. "It's nothing." Tullius brushes it off. "Carry on."
"Yes, General Tullius." The captain turns to the priestess behind her. "Give them their last rites." To which she nods and begins, "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the eight Divines upon you-" "For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with." A stormcloak interrupts. "As you wish." The priestess says with a glare.
He walks up to the block, and is pushed down with a boot and a kick to the back of the knee. "Come on. I haven't got all morning." He taunts the captain, who gives a nod to the executioner. "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" Before he could say anything else, the headsman brings down his axe. Severing the head of the poor stormcloak.
His body is pushed off the block without a second thought, as his head rolls into the basket in front of the block, leaving a red trail behind it.
"You Imperial bastards!" Another Stormcloak yells. Though, not everyone shares the same view as her. From the crowd I can hear people yelling that "justice had been served."
Ralof said something about the dead Stormcloak, but I can barely hear him now. I had only ever seen death in video games. I had heard about it of course, friends of relatives dying in some freak accident, an unfortunate bystander on the news, etc. But to see it, the nauseating red, to smell it. Somehow just the sight made the air stuffy, like when you know there's oxygen, but can't seem to get any of it. How can it be taken so lightly by the onlookers, it was sickening.
Another roar, louder this time.
"I said, the bandit!" The captain was angry now. I hadn't still hadn't taken my eyes off of when my legs took me in the direction of the block. It was worse as I got closer. A boot to my back snapped me out of my haze. She seemed more forceful this time.
As my head hit the block everyone seemed to freeze. I had seen what had caused it as well: a Dragon, headed straight towards us. Even the executioner turned to look at the massive creature, its wings seemed to span across the entirety of Helgen.
"What in Oblivion is that!?" General Tullius broke the deafening silence. "It's in the clouds!" "Sentries, what do you see?" The captain tried giving orders, but everything was already falling into chaos. "Dragon!" Someone answered, as it landed on the tower that the block was placed in front of.
'Alduin.' He's even more intimidating in person.
"Don't just stand there! Kill that thing!" Tullius directed "Guards get the townspeople to safety! Someone get the battlemages out here. Now!"
"What in the Eight Divines is this thing?!" Everyone was yelling: onlookers, Stormcloaks, guards, and especially the Imperial soldiers. Everything was hazy for a second before I heard Ralof call out to the Dragonborn. "Hey, you, Nord. Get up! Come on, the gods won't give us another chance." He sees me on the block and motions for me as well. "This way!"
All three of us bolt to the nearest shelter, a tower squished between two homes in the corner of the town about twenty feet from the chopping-block. My stomach, still twisted from what I had witnessed earlier, threatened to empty itself as we ran towards shelter. When we make it inside a Stormcloak soldier quickly shuts the wooden door behind us. "Jarl Ulfric," Ralof starts, "What is that thing? Could the legends be true?" "Legends don't burn down villages." His voice was hard to describe, calculating maybe? "We need to move now!" Alduin could be heard berating the tower with fireballs and shouts.
"Up through the tower," Ralof directed, "Let's go!" He jogged past me and the Dragonborn, Elias I think his name was, moving up the stairs we followed close behind. Near the top of the tower there was a pile of rubble blocking the path. A Stormcloak behind us offered to try and move the rubble, but as he moved to I put my arm out in front of him. I wasn't going to let anyone else die. "Wh-" He started. "Wait! Do you hear that?" Everyone paused, it was abnormally silent in the tower,the onslaught of fireballs seemed to recede, Alduin was waiting. Just as the Stormcloak attempted to push past me again the wall in front of the stairs was blown across to the room with enough force to kill someone on impact and fire was blown into the rubble.
Maybe it was selfishness, but I didn't want to experience what I had at the block again.
The short-haired nord nodded his thanks to me with wide eyes, equally as big as mine.
Ralof pulled me and Elias up to the hole as Alduin left, "See the inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going!" He grabs my arm as Elias jumps down, "Thank you." I nod. Go! We'll follow when we can!"
I step back to get a running start before hurling myself out of the tower. Landing with a thud and a groan, I make my way to a hole in the second floor and drop down as carefully as possible. I follow behind Elias to the best of my ability.
"Haming, you need to get over here. Now!" I look up to see Hadvar helping a boy out of the street and away from his father just as Alduin lands to finish him off. "That a boy. You're doing great."
"Gods. Everyone get back!" Everyone, including me and Elias make it behind a building intiem to escape from a torrent of fire. Hadvar turns to us after the dragon leaves, "Still alive prisoners? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way." "Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense." "Gods guide, you had Hadvar." an older man replies.
We hear another roar as we make our way to the front of the town, moving towards the keep. Alduin snatches an unfortunate Imperial as we reach the wall. Everyone is yelling. Some for help, others to help. "Hadvar! Into the keep soldier, we're leaving!" General Tullius attempts to yell over the chaos. "It's just us prisoners. Stay close!"
As we make it to the entrance, Ralof comes out from a burning home. "Ralof! You damn traitor. Out of my way!" "We're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time." "Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!"
This is it, the first major choice of the game. I turn to Elias, who seems indecisive. He glances at me and seems to decide, running with Ralof. Now the question is do I go with the Dragonborn? If this really is Skyrim, I have the power to save lives that are otherwise doomed.
So, with the Dragonborn it is.