Unfortunate twenty-one-year-old Ciara Razzo meets a strange man at a bar on her birthday. That man was a Daedra in disguise looking for fun or trouble depends on which one it is. The night was great until she started that drink off, she can't remember anything that happened after those drinks. She woke up in an all too familiar carriage from a video game she loved (and still does) as an early teen. Now that she's there she may as well do what she wants and have fun doing it right? And try not to die while she's at it.
Reply to the reviewer; JesusFreakkk:
I must agree with you, it was a bit too fast-paced for me as well. I had mostly started this to see if it was liked enough to continue. But have decided it doesn't matter and I semi-rewrote this first chapter to fit the plot I have planned. Thank you for your constructive criticism. I do so appreciate it! It really helps one to improve their writing... or gets them on the road to improving at the least... Anyway, this is the new-ish first chapter hope it is better than before.
Chapter One: Helgen
Ciara felt as if her head had been smashed with a mallet then got bashed against a wall it was that sore. It throbbed painfully as she pried her eyes open. Her eyesight was blurry and her memory of the night before was just as foggy.
The last thing she remembers was going out with her friends to celebrate her twenty-first birthday and getting drunk with some guy at the bar. Her eyesight started to clear, assaulted by the bright light of the sun.
Squinting her eyes Ciara could make out the blurry outline of what she assumed was a person, sitting across from herself. It was still hard to tell with the sun glaring in her face, but from what she could see it was a man with blond hair and a strong frame. Not too bulky but certainly no pushover.
Her ears were ringing. Her breathing sped up when she realised her hands were bound. The last time that had happened... No, she wasn't going to think about that, nothing had come of it except maybe a tainted childhood.
She wouldn't let that day cloud her judgement and Ciara forced herself to listen to the man. He seemed to be talking to her now. The white noise stopped when the man started speaking to her his voice was low and loud as most men she knew were... she paused, she couldn't remember any of their names. What was going on?
"Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there." he said jerking his head to the scrawny brunette next to her. Ciara turned as much as she could to get a better look at him the both of them looked familiar. But she didn't know why. Or what was happening. Why were their hands bound? Why were they on some old-timey kart thing? Where were they going? The questions flooded her mind faster than she could process each of them. Her breathing hadn't slowed either. She shook her head to try and refocus the skinnier man was talking now, he didn't sound very pleased.
"Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell. You there... You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants." he said sounding desperate almost as he awkwardly gestured between them with his rope bound hands. Now if she could just... slip her hand... and success! Her left-hand loosened the if she added her two cents, shit knot. But she kept the rope on her hands to not arouse any suspicion from the others. She didn't know these people even if she felt she should.
Her throat was dry but she managed to speak or croak, but they weren't her words falling from her lips and it wasn't her voice. Ciara straightened her back and glared at both of them, "The Empire? The Empire doesn't want the Stormcloaks they want Peace! They want the war to end. It..." She forced herself to stop. Ciara had no idea where that outburst came from and had no idea what she was saying. What Empire? Who were these people? And why can't she remember how she got here?
"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." The blond said and she found herself scoffing and frowned internally at the action. They were interrupted by the guy upfront in what looked to be... Leather. He was wearing leather armour. Her breathing sped up again. This wasn't right. People don't dress like that. Or at least she thought. She couldn't really remember what clothes were supposed to look like and it was starting to freak her out. More than any other stressful situation she had ever been in.
"Shut up back there!" one of the men yelled at them. Either the skinny one didn't hear him or was ignoring him.
"And what's wrong with him, huh?" Skinny said jerking his head to the man across from him who had his mouth covered with a cloth. A very dirty one her inner OCD cringed at it. She shook her head and refocused on Blondie who seemed to take offence to what Skinny said.
"Watch your tongue. You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King." Ciara felt her jaw drop and knew that her eyes were wide too. She was shaking her head. This could not be happening.
"No no no this isn't happening, this can't be happening. I'm not here. This isn't real. It's a dream. It must be..." she begged silently biting her lip hard. She winced, she definitely felt that. "An elaborate prank then? This can't be real. If this is someone's idea of a joke she didn't find it very funny..." Was the world spinning? She snapped back to reality... err... dream-prank-thing when skinny spoke dragging her out of her brooding.
"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you... Oh, gods, where are they taking us?" Skinny asked himself, she scraped her brain for his name. Ron? Lommy? Loren? Lock-something.
"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits," Blondie said... now, what was his name it was on the tip of her tongue. She knew it, but what was it? The cart went over a bump in the middle of the stone-laden road.
"No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening." The... Breton. Yes! that was what he was! A Breton! And Blondie was a... err... Ciara cursed when the word left her again. This place she definitely knew but the problem was she didn't know how she knew it. She was sure she hadn't drunk that much... Then again who was counting?
"Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?" Blondie asked as they neared the castle-looking-thing ahead of the horse-drawn cart. A feeling of dread filled her stomach.
"Why do you care?" The skinny Breton asked Blondie—Nord! the blonds were Nords! And skinny as a Breton and the guards were Imperials! Her heart sank when she realised where they were. She tried denying it. But this was too real no dream had ever been this detailed. She had never been able to say in her dreams that the air was fresh and unpolluted or that everything looked better and alive. The T.V she had, never did have the best graphics, nothing had ever looked so smooth or real on T.V or in a dream.
They were going to die she thought. "A Nord's last thoughts should be of home." the Nord-she-couldn't-remember-the-name-of said almost echoing her own thoughts.
"Rorikstead. I'm... I'm from Rorikstead." The Breton who seemed really unimportant in their current situation replied as the cart pulled to a stop in the courtyard of Helgen. Oh, God! They really were going to die! No one lives long in Skyrim. Well unless you're the one with the controller... but this was too real.
"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" the nameless Imperial soldier said and Ciara cringed. These people all looked far different than what she recalled from the game. Tullius looked younger and more alive than the old and grey-haired man she had fought against in the game. His voice sent shivers down her spine, this was it.
"Good. Let's get this over with." The leader of the Imperials said. As they got off the cart.
"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me." The Breton begged deities she wasn't sure until now were real. She closed her eyes and made her own prayers. This could not be happening. Why did all of her birthdays suck? They seemed to get worse since that day. That day her parents died. She brooded. She didn't even remember their names. How great of a daughter was she?
"Look at him, General Tullius, the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor is with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this. 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. Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe." The Nord–Ralof that was his name. Ralof said with a bitter kind of sadness lacing his words. Ciara was all conflicted on this whole thing. On the one hand, she was actually in a Game she had loved as a kid... but on the other... they were going to get their heads cut off. It really shouldn't be this hard.
Her heart dropped again. This was very very real. Ciara could only watch in muted horror as the nameless Breton from Rorikstead was shot dead on the woman–Captain Rikke's order. She had to force her attention back to the Imperial Nord...Hadvar? as his eyes landed on her.
"Wait, you there, step forward." He commanded. Ciara did as he said out of fear that she too would be shot down right there, her heart was in her throat. He spoke again with a frown as he looked back to his list. "Now tell me, who are you?"
Just like on the cart as if his words were some kind of trigger command, her mouth moved without her permission and she stood straighter like a soldier standing to attention before her superiors.
Her voice was more confident then she felt. "My name is Ciinara I hail from the imperial city in Cyrodiil. I was crossing the border to Skyrim on a mission sir." But the last part wasn't heard as one of the pasty-skinned-elf...err... Thalmor? glared at Ciara and spoke over her saying something about traitors to the empire and Rikke just sped the whole thing up.
Hadvar muttered his apologies and told her that he makes sure her remains are returned to Cyrodiil. Ciara or rather Ciinara's voice went cold as she spoke, "It wouldn't matter if it was. Just burn it for all I care there is nobody left who'd care anyway." Her mind raced. Where was she getting all of this from? She certainly wasn't from Cyrodiil or Tamriel or Nirn for that matter. And there were plenty of people who liked her back home she had friends and family who cared for her, but for the life of her, she couldn't remember any of their names. And she knew for a fact that her parents were dead anyway. Another bad birthday. What had she done to deserve such cruelty?
"I'm sorry to hear that Ciinara. I'll be sure your wishes are followed, " sweet young Hadvar informed her his tone sounded sorrowful but Ciara was never very good with understanding someone else feelings and emotions so she wasn't sure. Her own were too muddled for herself to care anyway.
She felt herself nod in thanks as she followed the other prisoners to the block. She shut off whatever it was that the priestess was yammering on about to assess her situation. Her breathing was still laboured and her hands were loose-ish. She still felt the rope tightly in her hands.
Then the roar came. And her memories of Helgen burning on screen came to the front of her mind she watched numbly as the first Stormcloaks head was taken, curses were thrown and then came the order for Ciara to be thrown to the block.
Her previous confidence and bravado dropped and she was visibly shaking as she stepped up to the block her hands still bound the headsman kicked the back of her knees so she was kneeling with her head rested on the cold stone block. She should have run she thought weakly tears burning the corner of her eyes as the putrid smell of the dead man's head reached her nose. Another roar. The headsman stumbled as the black dread himself appeared from behind the mountains.
His roar shook the ground and it nearly cracked open as he landed perched atop the stone tower.
Alduin shouted once bringing down a meteor shower then again burning half the town. The townsfolk around her were in a panic. One thing she heard through the noise was Tullius' call to his men to get the citizens to safety. Now that was something she hadn't heard before or didn't notice. Here she was thinking he was a selfish bastard, the whole reason she had joined the Stormcloaks in-game. A stupid reason sure but everyone had a preference in people. Everything seemed to speed up as the world fell into chaos buildings burned and children cried. Her ears were ringing again.