Rain rapts the window softly as the storm draws on. Rohan sat at his mother's bedside. Her frail body laid there weak and wheezing while she watches him stare at the smooth black pendant in his hand. "That," she says in a soft voice, "Was on you the day we found you." Rohan stared at the pendant intentively as it dangled on the necklace band, the strange markings etched on the back of you. "My boy…" his mother places a frail hand on his lap. "You were gift from the divines." Tears then suddenly began to swell in Rohan's eyes. "Almost twenty plus years of happiness you've brought to your father and I." she smiled weakly.
"Ma…" he gasped trying not to cry any further, he places his hand over her's.
"But…" she continued. "You have so much life ahead of you but my time has come to an end."
"Mother no." Rohan said plainly. She only struggled out a faint chuckle.
"I know you my son. I know you were selling a sword arm pushing every coin you earned for a healer but as I said before, my time has come. I must rejoin Raxle, I must rejoin your father."
Tears began to roll down Rohan's face. "Mother, please!"
Her faint greying eyes then stared directly at him "I had a dream about you know, I dreamed that I was standing in land in fire and blood, darkness shrouding over me and scream hollered out. But then you came in light of glorious virtue."
"You must go my dear boy" she continued. "You must go to your home, to Skyrim."
"I am home." Rohan said, holding her hand.
"You must. For I know the Gods have plans for you. I see it in my dreams."
Her hands start to feel cold as it shakes rapidly in Rohan's grasp.
"It…" she says in faint gasps, "Is your...destiny."
The shaking stops and she turns her head facing the other way closing her eyes.
"Mother?"
Pain….
Hot, sore, thundering pain was all Rohan could feel in the back of his head. His vision began to slowly return to him in anguishing thick haze. He could he see the bright rays of sunlight streaming down in beam through the trees, the thick smell of pine of the forest, the sound of horses tapping their hooves on the cobblestones as his senses formulate. It took but a second to realize he was going on a carriage ride what was even more shocking that this particular ride seemed to be part of some imperial legion convoy. His wrists burned raw for they were tightly bound in leather binds.
Another anomaly he noticed was this dress and personal belongings had been gone and was wearing some simple shirt and trousers made of the most unruly fabric. His weapons and coin were gone, and even… Taking his bound hands to his chest, he felt for something and realized it was bare. "The amulet!? It's gone!" his mind trailed. "Great job Rohan, first steps in Skyrim and you already lost it."
"Hey, you." said a voice. It was the passenger across from him speaking. A blonde nord dressed in light armor and with a blue tunic, come to think of it Rohan noticed that the carriage in front of him seemed to had passengers wearing the same style of dress as the nord before him there.
"You're finally awake." Blondie continued. Rohan said nothing, his throat dry and felt sore, to much for him to speak. So he only smiled at the man and nodded his head.
"You were trying to cross the border right?" the man said. "Walked right into that ambush, same as us and that thief over there."
The nord used his head to point towards the scraggly looking fellow next to him. The lad was dressed in rags and had dirt caked on his face and ginger hair. A scowl pursed him for he seemed to not like the label on which blondie had given him. "Damn you stormcloaks, Skyrim was fine until you came along! The Empire was nice and lazy."
"Stormcloaks!?" Rohan screamed inside his head, "Well...shit, this explains everything." Word of the civil war had hit all corners of the Empire, it was one of the main reason why travel to Skyrim was ill advised.
"If it hadn't been for you I could've taken that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell!" said the thief accusatory. "You there!" he was now speaking to Rohan. You and me, we shouldn't be here, it's these stormcloaks the Empire wants."
"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now thief!" the blonde spat back.
"Shut up back there!" said the soldier driving their carriage.
Rohan tried to move his hands but the binds grew tighter at every amount of struggle so he decided to relent. "What's wrong with him huh?" the thief spoke looking to the gagged nord on Rohan's right.
"Watch your tongue!" snapped the blonde, "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the True High King!"
A tinge of nerves heighten in Rohan's stomach. Jarl Ulfric? That name has met infamy throughout Tamriel dependent whom to ask. To some, he's just some upstart using the political recession of the Empire to promote discord and advance his standings within the Province. To others he's a revolutionary leading Skyrim back to independence.
Both sides had merit and both sides gave Rohan the stature of staying out of it, nord or not he was not taking sides.
Strange however for the Jarl wasn't pay no attention to the thief but Rohan. He keeping his steely stare into Rohan's cold ice blue eyes. An odd feeling came to Rohan, "Why do I feel like I should know you?" His mind ponders.
"Jarl Ulfric?" the thief spoke, "You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you...OH GODS! Where are they taking us?!"
"I don't know…." laments the blonde, "But Sovngarde awaits."
The air felt bitter but that was expected in Skyrim's frigid climate. Still the temperature bore no comfort for what Tullius desperately desired at this moment, but showed no sign of irritability other than his usual gruff mood and kept on his horse steering the caravan with his troops at the fore.
It was a steep climb on the rocky slope of the rode but their destination was near. Good. The sooner he finishes this the better. What the General was about to do was entirely against protocol, but he was sure no one within in Imperial Court would bear any protest. He was given job with the order to: "Dispose the Nordic Upstart, thoroughly and if possible swiftly."
And that is what he's actually doing. Bypass this due process bureaucratic shit and end this blood shed now so the Empire can finally go back to healing.
Tullius saw walls and a gate ahead and with small relief was ready to get this under way. The doors berth open wide as the legionary sertries spot the military convoy with the General approaching. "General Tullius sir!" says one sentry, "The headsman is waiting!"
"Good, let's get this over with." He grumbled.
A boor sense of morbidity crept upon him, Tullius always felt uneasy with public executions, no matter the enemy. But it need to be done, and if Ulfric was to be put down, witnesses need to be presence so evidence was assured.
This display was more of a process of showing security for the people of Skyrim than it was setting an example to discourage upstarts. The Empire was in control and not a crumbling figurehead leading its citizens on a leash of falsehood that Ulfric had tried so hard to convince the locals.
Entering the hamlet's threshold. Helgen as it was called formed itself as a well fortified and well supplied legion outpost while still being a small well populated village. It's fort Fort Helgen, served as the first station in Skyrim legions would attend to when coming out of Cyrodiil. It being near the southern border.
As the convoy entered, townsfolk cleared the way from the busy street as soldiers ushered them to. People all stood and ogled at the sight of the rebels being carted in like this was some festive parade. Some folk cheered at the sight "Down with the Stormcloaks!" they would shout. "Justice for Torygg!"
While other shout in protest, "Imperial dogs!" they'd yell. "Tyrants! Eleven slaves!" More than shouting ensued and the soldiers standing guard quickly tries to dispatch the rabble before a riot breaks lose.
Tullius ignores the chaos instead his attention drew to visitors he had not expected to be here, no wanted to. He steers his horse into the direction to meet with the elves of whom were watching the heavy crowd infighting.
The small group of were of Altmer, one a female adorned in black leather robes atop a golden steed, while two dressed in atypical golden eagle styled armor atop brown mares.
"Ambassador Elenwen, to what do I owe this pleasure." says Tullius addressing the elf in robes, sounding as nonchalant as possible, he liked to let the Thalmor know that he detested their presence. He was however quite nerve to see them, the damn Altmer had eyes and ears everywhere. No doubt someone within his own cohort pass some info idly down.
The high elf pursed a smile on her shrewd face, "I'm here to tell you stop. By authority of the Thalmor, I'm taking custody of these prisoners."
Tullius laughs a dry chuckle. "I'm sorry Elenwen even I know your authority has limits. I'm going to have to belay your request. By the authority of the Imperial Legion. Now I've got a horse thief and a vagabond on a cart but I doubt you want one of them."
Elenwen glared at him coldly, "Your Emperor will hear of this. By the terms of the White Gold Concordat, I operate with full imperial authority!"
"Yeah but your authority is still managed with by laws within the Imperial Court in correspondence within the Aldmeri Dominion." He turns his horse away back with of his traveling convoy
"So if you wish to complain." Tullius continued "You may put in a request with the Cyrodilic Council which would take a process within two to four weeks until you'll get a response. But, you're diplomat, you know how bureaucracy works."
"More than others!" She growled but Tullius ignores her and takes his horse trotting away, "You're making a big mistake!" the elf yelled out.
"This is Helgen." blondie spoke, turning his head to whichever direction he could, crowds of people coming from their homes, shops and wherever their place of business to gather near the roads and gawk at the parade before them. Rohan glances at the wide eyed peasants, he sees a nearby young boy being pulled from the street from his father dragging him off to their home.
"Used to be sweet on a girl from here." the blonde one continues, "I wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries in it."
The nord was feeling nostalgic Rohan thought, it figures nothing but death is waiting once the carriage stops. Sentimentality has always the been the last expense of the helpless. To know and even see your death coming, it's better to feel comfort than fear. "Hey…" the nord went on, speaking to the thief. "What village are you from?"
"Why do you care!?" the thief snarled, Rohan could see the small bit of tears welling up the skinny nord's eyes. "A nords lasts thought should be of home." the nord continued.
The thief looks down letting out an anguished sigh, "Rorikstead." he finally spoke, "I'm...I'm from Rorikstead."
Home….
That word ran through Rohan's mind like a terrible sickness. Home was what he longed for. He never could fit in Cyrodiil, it was never truly his home. Even with all the love and care his parents gave them, the cold hard truth that never truly were his parents and it made him feel more out of place. A bastard in a basket. That was his childhood. Then he comes here, to Skyrim the land of his ancestors only find that he isn't welcome here either. It pained him almost, to a point that now he felt the need to cry. Yet tears did not come down no matter how hard he squinted his eyes. His throat was still to cracked to speak and paint knotted his stomach for the effort to try and cry out. So he sits in silence, his bound hands resting on his lap.
Perhaps once I leave this world, I'll finally have a place in wherever plain in Oblivion takes me.
Hadvar dismounts his horse as the convoy slows to a halt. Captain Tenya, the garrison's stationed commander was already having her troops aligned and barking orders. Tenya was a crass redguard woman yet a dedicated soldier. It was in those aspects on why Hadvar feared and respected her.
"Get this prisons out of the carts. Move it!" Hadvar hears the captain barks. And too much agony he spots her walking his direction, her face the most terrifying sneer. She says nothing to him only looking to the captured who were slowly moving off the carts. "Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time." she says without raising her voice yet sounding strictly stern.
That was Hadvar's cue to pull out his log book and quickly recite those here on record. "Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm." Hadvar says clearly reading off the first name. Loud murmuring from the gathered crowds bustled as he spoke. The Jarl doing as he was told walked up and then turn and walked to others where the executioner waited. The next name was bad to speak, it almost felt difficult to form the words like he was cursing his own mother. But captainTenya's eyes glared at him and he did notwant rile her patience. "Ralof ofRiverwood." he says quickly and then he saw him.
Two boys playing thrush of the river, it current calm enough for them to dip their hands in and collect smooth stones. Hadvar finds a rock that looks be of malachite. He raises it in the sunlight and watches it shine a bright teal. "Look there!" Ralof says pointing to the mountain. An old ruin could be seen on the mountain's cliffside.
"You mean the barrow?" Hadvar asks examining the stone.
"Bleak Falls Barrow." Ralof says, "My grandda says there's an old treasure there, Power like you've never seen before!, he says. But if you seek the treasure and found unworthy, than death awaits." Ralof continued. Hadvar shakes his head, "Nothing but our buried dead there as are all the tombs in Skyrim. Any fool goes seeking for treasure will only death as punishment in disturbing our ancestors."
"What you mean draugr? Those who walk sleepless?" Ralof asks. Hadvar nods.
"I not scared of bonewalkers?" Ralof boasted. "Fact when I'm older I'm gonna take my trade as a warrior."
"Same here, I'm joining the legion." said Hadvar.
Ralof laughed, "The Emperor's army? They're one of the best fighting forces in Tamriel! Only bravest and strongest join the legion."
Hadvar rose his feet grinning, "I'm brave and strong." Ralof rolled his eyes yet Hadvar pins his finger in his chest, "And I'll be one of the fiercest warrior than you'll ever be." He says grinning.
"Suuure." Ralof teased, "But sees who would be the fastest, race ya to the mill!" He says darting off before Hadvar could react. Hadvar chases after him "Hey!" he giggled.
Not a word, not even a glance. The rebel did as he told was before, step forward and walked on to join his doomed comrades. Hadvar was compelled to speak but his thoughts blocked him from even forming words. What could you say? What is there to say?
It was time to forget the past and move on to the next condemned soul. "Lokir of Rorikstead!" he called out.
"No!" a feral looking man calls out. "I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!"
Hadvar rolled his eyes, the idiot didn't really believe they were keeping him here because they thought he was a rebel...did he?
"Stealing property from the legion can get you to the axe, thief." Hadvar said, aptly reminding the fool on why he was really here.
The thief says nothing at first, his pleas cut short then his eyes dart to an opening on where space between him, Hadvar and the captain were far apart enough for him to swiftly get by. Hadvar caught his gaze and gave him a stern look. Don't even try it.
The thief darts off, "You're not gonna catch me!" Hadvar shakes his head. "Idiot."
"Halt!" Captain Tenya barked. The thief was fast, fast enough for it took the legion guard half a minute to react. "Archers!" Tenya called out, four imperial sagittarii quickly line each have an arrow notched. They waited for the thief to scramble past two incoming guardsmen pursuing the man. Just as he runs into their lines of sight, they each in unison lose their arrows. Each making their shot. "GAH!" was all the thief could croak out as he fell to the dirt, arrows hitting him, three in the chest one in the neck.
"Anyone else feels like running?" Tenya cordially asks. Hadvar just shakes his head, the thief was fast but not fast enough, it didn't matter really he was dead now and now it was time for the next poor soul called for the slaughter. But checking on his list, Hadvar had found all the names logged were already checked off, yet there was still someone standing there, waiting patiently. Peculiar, if not very strange.
A nord, brawny fellow with dark hair and piercing blue eyes for what Hadvar could take it. "You!" he called out to him, "Step forth." The nord did as he was told and walked to him, eyes baring into him as he if he could see Hadvar's soul. It was eerie almost but Hadvar showed no imposture. "Who are you?" was all he asked.
The man smiled and menacing sneer and spoke, "Ysgramor!" he beamed.
Hadvar let out a disgruntled huff. A comedian, great. "And where from, Ysgramor?" he says playing along with this stupid game.
"Your ma's bed…" The nord taunts. That earned him a sharp punch in the gut by the captain. As big as he was, Tenya's blow was heavy enough for him to keel over into a bend, Tenya then sending him down to the ground by putting her boot on the side his face, pressing his head down into the mud. "You got jokes well we got jokes too!" she sneered, "Tell us your name or we strip you down, flog you and give you something worse than the axe!"
Mud had covered most of his face then with dirt falling into his mouth but he still managed to not break his smile, "Is….this….the….part...of the joke….where….I'm suppose to laugh?" He grumbles out.
Tenya pushed down hard, "NAME!" she growled.
"ROHAN!" he barked back.
"Place of origin?" said Hadvar logging the name on a clean page.
"I DON'T HAVE A HOME!" he roared from the dirt in his mouth. Tenya eased her foot off him, giving him the chance to rise to his feet. "I don't have any origin." the man continued now gasping, "Just a parentless bastard who was just unlucky enough to run into you lot. I'm a nord like the rest of these doomed sods here." he gestures to the rebels. "This is Skyrim ain't it? The Fatherland? What does it matter on where exactly I hail from."
It really did not to what Hadvar took it and thus wrote nothing further. "You picked a bad time to come to Skyrim kinsmen." he says, the sorrow sounding quite genuine. "Captain." Hadvar continued, "What do we do, he's not on the list?"
Tenya studied the man, her cold stare fixated on his but she then cuts away in a snort and spoke, "Forget the list, he goes to the block."
A tinge of nerves could be felt in Hadvar's chest and he was compelled to speak in protest. This was not protocol, under no circumstance did they truly had any right to have him in custody. Since when was bad timing an official charge? But Tenya had the stature of a bulwark that was too hard as stone to relent any resistance. And riling her up was something Hadvar did not want to do. So like a good soldier, Hadvar swallowed his irritation and did as commanded. "By your orders captain." he spoke.
"So that's it then?" the now condemned nord spoke, "No charge, no trial, no judge? Just the axe? Legion's a lot different in Skyrim than Cyrodiil." he laughed.
"I'm sorry." Hadvar said somberly, "At least you'll die here, in your homeland." like any of that helped. Any civilian could see this as plain murder but under the legion, just under the table protocol. "To the block prisoner."
Ralof watched as the bitch of a captain pushes another condemned soul with his group. It was poor fellow who rode with him and Ulfric, Rohan was the name Ralof caught when he spoke it earlier. Damn shame really, unlike the thief who beg for Ralof to testify his innocence this man here truly had no association with them and thus there is never a clear reason why he was here in the first place. From what he had overheard Hadvar saying, the poor bastard's only crime was being in the way. Saying anything would prove nothing, the imperials already cast their judgement. To Ralof, it almost seemed as if imperials enjoyed having their boots on a nord's neck.
Ralof spat at the ground as the imperial captain passed by him, pushing the rugged nord to stand next to him. "Sorry friend." Ralof said to him softly, it seem quite obligated for him to say something to him. In a way Ralof felt that this was his and comrade's fault. The man said nothing, only breathing heavy, his piercing blue eyes glaring through the dirt on his face right at the captain.
Both of them then turn their attention onto the approaching General Tullius, who strutted right past them on to Ulfric, who stood upright in a clear direct posture, wrists still bound and mouth still gagged.
"Ulfric Stormcloak." the General greeted, "Some here in Helgen call you a hero." His hand reaches out gesturing to the gathered crowd of peasants who were all looking on in dread silence. "But a hero doesn't use the power such as the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne."
A harsh scowl morphed onto Ulfric's face and his jaws clench indicating the desire to speak but the gag was an obstacle, all that could be translated were muffled grunts.
"You started this war!" Tullius barked. "Plunge Skyrim right into chaos and so the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace!"
A more angrier look came from Ulfric's gaze and he slightly steps forward showing signs of his rebuttal when a sudden wail echoes from the sky. The sound was something unheard of and almost unnatural that by the second everyone had heard it, their gazes looked upwards onto where it supposedly came from. Murmurs from the local folk all sounding bewildered.
"What was that?" Hadvar spoke.
"It's nothing." said General passing it off, "Carry on."
Ralof had his gaze still to the sky, a look of confusion as well but what was more peculiar was when he then noticed Rohan next to him. His bright blue eyes were wide as he staring blankly towards the ground. He almost looked as if he was trembling. Strange it seemed, he didn't seem so fearful before but now he had looked to turn pale, even pale for a nord. "What is it?" Ralof whispered.
"Something's coming." he whispered back. "I...I can feel it somehow."
That caused Ralof to stir a bit but instead he looked back out the bright partly cloudy sky, trying to see if he could see what Rohan was sensing.
"Give them their last rites." the captain commanded speaking to the priest.
The affirmed chaplin was called out earlier by the legion's behest, as she was to perform the rite for the condemn as per protocol in any execution. The young woman in her robes step forward smiling with her hands out in a wide berth as if speaking to the sun as she began her sermon. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn. Our beloved…."
"FOR THE LOVE OF TALOS SHUT UP AND LET'S GET THIS OVER WITH!" barked a stormcloak soldier who already strutted his way out right at the block.
"As you wish!" the priestess seethed.
The rebel got to his knees and stretched his head over the block with no assist. "Come on, I haven't got all day!" he taunted. The headsman, a buff nord wearing a black cowl carrying a very blunt greataxe step forward, raising his blade of his head.
"My ancestors are smiling at me imperials! Can you say the same?" the rebel's lasts words before the axe slammed down on his neck. Screams and yelps of disgust and displeasure echoed all around from the crowd. "You imperial bastards!" shouted one of the stormcloaks as they all looked on watched as the captain kicked the rebel's headless body off the block, his head now easily rolled into a basket.
"Justice!" shouted someone from the peasant crowd, along with some cheers from others. "Death to the stormcloaks!" said another.
"As fearless as he is in death as he was in life." lamented Ralof reciting an old nord proverb watching two soldiers come and take the body.
"Next the nord in the rags!" barked the captain, she pointing at Rohan.
A second wail this time much louder than before echoes out. The pupils in Rohan's eyes shrank, as his heart started to race even faster. "Something's coming…" He says "Something's coming right towards us!"
"To the block prisoner." said Hadvar, "Nice and easy."
Face still blank with a wide stare, Rohan did what he was told and slowly stepped forward, his mind racing something's coming….something's coming.
It was as if the sound around him drowned out and all he could hear was the sound of his own heart beating along with another sound.
Something's coming….something's coming.
Like wings thrashing against the air.
Something's...coming….something's coming.
Stopping at the block, he could sense a great source energy rushing towards him.
Something's coming….something's coming.
He gets to his knees.
Something's coming...something's coming.
The air feels as if it is still but he could still feel a gasp of power thrashing at him. Power that his body feels as if it knows it yet does not at the same time. Something he does recognize yet feels as if he should.
Something's coming...something's coming.
He bends over the block, neck stretched out so that his head was hanging over. His eyes fixated on the axeman who as before began to slowly raise his blade.
Something's coming….something's coming…something's coming…..something's coming…
"IT"S HERE!" Rohan screams and just as he said that wail echoed out but it was more of a roar and this time the people of Helgen could see on whom the noise came from.
Tullius first caught a glimpse, to him it was like a large winged demon. "WHAT IN OBLIVION IS THAT?!" the general hollered. It casted a great shadow over the village, swooping low.
"Sentries!" called the captain, "What do you see!?" she says hastily.
"IT"S IN THE CLOUDS!" says one legion scout.
Rohan who was still bended over the headsman block watched in stunned terror of the great beast that landed on top of the stone tower before him. Screams and hollers of the peseant folk bellow out as the townspeople scramble. Legion guards all drawing steel and bow.
Rohan did not move, his eyes still caught on the sight of such a terrifying yet marvelous creature. It's scales were of rough pointed spikes blacker than a night sky, its eyes a firey red that glowed. What….what is!? Great wide wings, sharp tale, a snout lined with fangs.
Is….is that a….
"DRAGON!"
