Last time, Hadvar tried to help Shealyne with her troll problem, but ultimately failed. Therefore, a homeless Shealyne decides to follow Hadvar to Skyrim! Enjoy!
Elder Scrolls belongs to Bethesda. The following characters belong to us: Shealyne, Arlen, Olana, Thearis, Anya, and Anya's kid.
"Alright. It is set, then. We leave at once."
The two set out with a few units of the Legion on a course for the village of Helgen: the nearest civilized place in Skyrim. Over a few weeks, the group travelled across the Colovian Highlands of Cyrodiil, and eventually met up with General Tullius's men with the Stormcloak prisoner wagon train, en route to Helgen not too far away.
"So there are these Stormcloak rebels you speak of, and their leader. Then who are these last few people tied up? They don't wear the rebel symbols." Shealyne asked Hadvar, who marched behind his company of men who in turn marched behind the wagon train.
"Those? Oh, those are just criminals found in the area. Trying to cross the border into Cyrodiil without a writ of passage. Some have been captured before for other crimes, others just new. Quite noisy, however. You, horse thief! Quiet!" Hadvar shouted to a prisoner on the last wagon, a redhead who sat next to Ulfric himself along with a few others.
Shealyne moved her eyes to the last wagon to these other prisoners: The skinny red-headed horse thief; a fur-caped gagged man who's been identified as Ulfric Stormcloak; a blonde bearded man who seems to be a staunch follower of Stormcloak; a burly armor-clad clean-shaven man, and a wild-looking, blonde-haired woman next to him. All were quiet except for the blonde man and horse thief quarrelling back and forth about...gods know what, which led to Hadvar's scolding.
"I don't know their names or any underlying information about them," Hadvar almost read Shealyne's mind, which was itching to ask who they were. He continued, "Yet, anyway. I was assigned the role of caller, which is to call them up to the Captain to be properly identified and sentenced. We like to do things formally here in the Legion." Shealyne hated to admit that she liked his knightly personality.
"And where shall you go after the sentencing of Stormcloak?" she asked.
"Wherever I am posted. It may be here, or it may be back to Cyrodiil. Look, here's Helgen now. See the gate?"
Shealyne indeed saw the gate, and going through it, took in the view of the village. It was small and cozy, but still to serve the purpose of the Legion, whose aim was to formally sentence and execute Stormcloak and his followers as quickly as possible before an escape happens.
The few wagons were driven into the square, where high Helgen Keep watches over with might. A few villagers gathered in the square to watch what was about to happen, and some villagers stood on their porches, gawking. Some jeering at the Stormcloaks, a few even begging for the prisoners' forgiveness in the eyes of the Eight.
The prisoners jumped off their wagons, and clustered together. Except for the tall armored man and the wild woman, they stood off to the side.
Shealyne took her place by the Keep with the rest of the Legion soldiers, and watched as Hadvar stood next to the female Captain and unraveled a scroll containing the names of all the present prisoners. She also spied the grisly hooded headsman, who prepared the chopping block and his axe.
"Step forward when I call your name. Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." Hadvar announced.
The gagged Ulfric stepped forward. A nearby Stormcloak muttered, "It has been an honor..Jarl Ulfric."
Hadvar continued, "Ralof of Riverwood." The blonde bearded Stormcloak who just spoke and who was quarreling with the horse thief stepped forward as well.
"Lokir of Rorikstead."
"No, I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" the red-headed horse thief suddenly jumped at the sound of his name being called. He looked around for a moment, and then jolted off past the Captain and Hadvar, hands tied, "You're not gonna kill me!" Some villagers gasped in shock.
"Halt!" the Captain shouted with a steely voice. With no indication of his stopping, she then shouted, "Archers!" and the few Imperial archers on standby aimed at the moving target, and let their arrows fly with immaculate precision. Lokir slumped to the ground and did not move.
The Captain faced the remaining prisoners, "Anyone else feel like running?" With a few moments of silence from the prisoners, she nodded to Hadvar to continue calling. And he did call the Stormcloak names, one by one, with each stepping forward to the group who was already called.
When all the prisoners were called, there remained two in the back who were not called. These were the tall man and the wild woman.
"Wait, you two. Step forward. Who..are you?" Hadvar seemed confused that these two were not on the list compiled by the scribe. Had they just not given their names, or did the scribe not even speak with them?
"Buddy, after a good many mugs of Dragons Breath, even I don't know who I am anymore." the large man exclaimed. Shealyne facepalmed. After a moment of confusion from Hadvar, the man snorted, "Oh, pff, you meant now? Ha, I'm Arlen, and this is-"
"Olana." the fur-clad woman spoke with a rough voice. She scowled and looked away as if she didn't have time for this.
"Right…" Hadvar wondered why these two complete opposites were traveling together. "Captain, what should we do? They're not on the list."
"Forget the list! They go to the block like all the rest." the Captain said coldly.
"What? Are you on skooma, lady?! Didn't get your fix today?" Arlen blurted out, trying to wiggle out of his binds.
"I'm sorry. I'll make sure your remains are seen to. Now come on, to the block. Nice and easy." Hadvar reassured them in a soft voice. With the archers' arrows trained on the two, they obeyed and went to the rest of the prisoners. The Captain and Hadvar followed them.
Then the aged Imperial Military Governor of Occupied Skyrim, General Tullius in his gleaming Imperial armor stepped out of the Keep to address the group of prisoners, followed by a robed priest of of Arkay. Tullius faced Ulfric and announced, "Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a true hero doesn't use a power like The Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne." Ulfric grunted.
Tullius continued, "You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace-"
He was almost interrupted by a distant, yet haunting cry of some unknown creature that resonated throughout the valley. Nearly everyone looked around and at each other, trying to guess what it was from. "What was that?" an Imperial soldier asked.
The soldier's voice came from a higher-ranked older man, but not yet grey. Thearis had walked to the execution, Imperial armor heavy, his movements slothful from his blindness, eyes burned by mage-fire. The dark haired man sported a beard, hair tied in a low ponytail. His eyes were unfocused and dead, the flesh around his useless orbs scarred and burnt.
Olana twitched when she caught sight of the man.
The old man had heard the roar-far better than any man or woman-though could not tell what it was. No, his mind had become focused upon a faintly familiar scent to him-one that he had never forgotten.
His daughter was here, but which one, he could not tell. The man dared not break rank and risk enraging the Military Governor.
"Damn it...that's my father." Olana whispered to Arlen, who bent down a little to listen, "I haven't seen him since...since I left Whiterun for good." she kept staring at him, wondering why he's posted here.
"It was nothing. Carry on." Tullius replied sternly.
"Yes, General Tullius." the Captain said. She turned to the priest, "Give them their last rights."
The female priest nodded, raised her arms, and in a chant-like voice recited, "We commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you-"
"For the love of Talos! Just shut up and let's get this over with!" a hot-headed Stormcloak strided up to the block, wanting to be first. The disgruntled priest murmured, "-as you wish."
"Come on, I haven't got all morning!" the rebel knelt down and put his neck over the block. "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" he managed to exclaim before the headsman's axe came down upon him in one, clean cut; the rebel's head rolled into the basket beside the block.
Shealyne cleared her throat upon seeing the blood flow from his severed head and body, the woman putting a hand over her mouth, hunching slightly. In truth, she hadn't seen that much blood in a while, and it brought back the bloody memories from her past-mainly within the Dark Brotherhood. Hopefully the spectators would view her action as one of horror, and not the constant hunger that always boiled underneath. Hadvar glanced over to her and had a look of pity for her discomfort.
The scent of blood hit her nostrils, and she was forced to turn away to try and block out the temptation to lick the still warm blood from the stone.
"It's okay...It's okay..." She mumbled to herself, trying to get her mind within a state of calm, rather than one of an animal that was starving and on a constant look out for prey. Poor Vicente would be rolling in his non-existent grave over her poor self-control which had long faded from lack of living interactions.
She then hugged herself, hoping it would looking like a panic attack as she forced herself to take slow, deep breaths, the woman beginning to shakily walk away and distance herself from the horrid executioner's block.
Hadvar took notice of her leave, and wished he could follow her, but had to remain at his post at the execution.
The Captain had already moved the rebel's body away from the block, and the next prisoner was kneeling over it. The same grisly act had occurred, and Shealyne realized it, but was already walking away from the scene. This will happen again and again until all the prisoners are done, and she wanted to be nowhere near it.
"Next, the mouthy Nord in the armor." the Captain ordered and pointed to Arlen.
"Who, me? That's practically everyone here." Arlen shrugged.
"Stop trying to get out of it, scum." the Captain scowled.
"Alright, alright. It's been good, Olana." Arlen took a step forward, but as he did, that same mysterious roar was heard. This time, much louder. So much that some villagers retreated into their cottages, guiding their children inside. Trees seemed to sway, as if a great breeze moved them. There was a hushed silence among the spectators as well as the prisoners, and no one dared to speak or disrupt.
"There it is again. Did you hear that, General?" Thearis said quietly, "It is an unnatural sound. Like nothing I've heard before." Arlen looked to the skies, past the swaying trees, but saw nothing. Nothing that could move the trees besides this unusually strong wind.
"I said, next prisoner!" the rude Captain roared. Olana then shifted her position, picking up this uncomfortable feeling that she could not shake. She didn't know what it was that was making her feel this way, but hoped it would be over soon.
Arlen proceeded to bend down to the block and rest his head. As the headsman readied his axe, Arlen looked up out of the corner of his eye, and froze when he saw the sky was now stormy grey and a man screamed in terror, "What in Oblivion is that?!" Arlen's eyes widened when he spotted a giant, scaly hellish creature hovering over Helgen Keep, its wings flapping gusts of wind with the intensity of a hurricane as it let out an ear-shattering shriek, which toppled over the headsman. Several human screams sounded at once, many villagers running for cover.
"Scouts, what do you see!?" the Captain cried, the ground shaking as the beast landed on the tower, eyes red, hide a blackened hue, and its breath heavy with sulfur.
"It's in the clouds!" a soldier cried.
The Captain finally spotted it and screamed, "Archers! Open fire!"
Shealyne stopped in her tracks when she heard the cries and felt the wind. She had made it to the other side of the village by now, but knew that something had gone horribly wrong. Executions are hectic, but not this much. She started jogging back when villagers ran every which way around her.
Arlen froze in place on the block, staring in fear at the monster that he was so near to but could not move himself until Olana shouted from afar, "Arlen! Let's go!"
"Shit.." he was jolted awake, stood up, and tried to focus his blurry vision through all the chaos that was happening: soldiers firing arrows at the creature that seemed to be doing nothing, villagers running for their lives, the blind man Thearis running off behind a building feeling his way, and suddenly Olana was in front of Arlen saying words that he could not get a hold on or recognize through the fog in his mind. She ended up running off, hoping he'd follow, and he did.
The creature kept crying out and started spewing fire onto the village below, setting houses and wagons ablaze and anything else caught in the way.
Hadvar had his sword and shield readied as he went around, ushering out villagers and prisoners that were still here or were hurt. He was also searching for Shealyne, who he thought could probably fend for herself, but still wanted to know if she was okay.
He came upon Olana and Arlen just coming out of the square. "You! Prisoners! Come with me!"
"Go with the man that sentenced us to death? How do we know you won't just kill us later!?" Olana growled.
"I'm speaking to you as a protector, not an Imperial! I can cut off your binds, if you will just trust me!" Hadvar begged, sidestepping a fallen beam of a house that was on fire.
"Over my dead b-" Olana started.
"WEREWOLF!" Arlen shouted over Olana. Sure enough, a large, muscled wolf-man with unseeing scarred white eyes and dark brown fur spotted with grey launched from behind a building. Its snout was in the air, sniffing and its ears perked up, intently listening. Its head suddenly turned towards the group's direction, to which Hadvar gasped.
"Father!" Olana yelled. He'd already "seen" them, so he knows that she's here.
Thearis's head suddenly snapped to a different direction, sensing something much different than a human. It was the scent of a vampire. Automatically he lurched off into that direction, his muscles straining to run faster and faster on all fours.
"I don't know what's going on anymore, but we must get out of here! If you won't follow me, then so be it! Just don't endanger others!" Hadvar ran to the direction of the keep. Arlen and Olana looked at each other, then Arlen started after Hadvar, and Olana following with a sigh.
"Hadvar!" Shealyne shouted when she saw Hadvar, dodging a fiery piece of debris. She ran towards him and Arlen and Olana, but before she could get there, she stopped and sensed a feeling that something was coming. Thearis crashed out of a burning house, following the scent of the vampire, and Shealyne scowling when she saw the werewolf.
"Into the keep!" Shealyne bolted for the door of the keep, with Hadvar immediately following along with Arlen and Olana. Thearis launched, reducing distance to them but was met with the slamming of the keep door when all of them were in. He continued to scratch and rap the door with his body, trying to break it down, but the door was too strong for now.
"He'll break that sooner or later. We should move." Olana hurriedly put the wooden bar down on the door.
"Every Imperial fort has an escape route; I'm willing to bet there's a way through the keep that leads to the mountainside, and we can escape this forsaken village. If you all will trust me, I can lead us." Hadvar said, looking at Shealyne, and finally the other two. Shealyne nodded, and the other two did the same. Hadvar took out his knife, "I'll cut these ropes off." and freed both Olana and Arlen, who rubbed their wrists and thanked him.
"There are armor and weapons in here; take what you want." Hadvar himself grabbed a leather Imperial helmet, as did Arlen a longsword and shield, and Olana a dagger since there were no more swords. Shealyne ran her hands over her own dagger, something of immeasurable value that was once given to her by the man she loved, now long gone.
"Finally I'm a man again." Arlen said, getting cozy with his armaments.
"Sure you are, iron arms." Olana muttered, a bit sarcastically with a wry smile to display her half-hearted comment.
"...Bitch." Arlen frowned, mocking hurt as Shealyne sighed, shaking her head.
"This way, then." Hadvar led the group down a stone stairway with torches hung on the walls. At the bottom was the torture chamber, its stone walls and floors stained with blood. How nice.
It seemed to be empty, except for the skeletons in some cages. The group pressed on, finding several dead Stormcloak soldiers-most likely having perished trying to escape the fort.
"Sweet, free shit!" Arlen exclaimed, grinning as he started looting the dead Nords for anything interesting. Hadvar stared at the strange male, unsure what to think of his antics as Olana managed to pry a steel sword from cold hands.
Shealyne looked around, spying a satchel on a nearby table before looking inside, finding a few lockpicks. She pocketed the helpful little guys before noticing a cage, a dead mage trapped inside.
The woman frowned, walking up to the door and pulling out one of her lockpicks before gently pushing it into the lock, the woman then taking the tip of her dagger and toying with the lock, and after several seconds heard a click and loud clang as the lock popped off. The sudden noise had drawn the attention of her companions, the woman freezing in awkwardness, cheeks flushing.
"What?...I used to be a kleptomaniac..." She muttered, Arlen suddenly bursting out laughing, Shealyne looking upon the large man with confusion.
"If that's true then you can pop the lock off my pants anytime, girl! Hahahahaha-hahahaaaa!" The man then paused in his laugh as he opened up a found bottle of ale and took a swig.
"...ummm...okay, then." Shealyne replied, not entirely sure how to respond as she went through the dead mage's pockets, finding nothing of use save for a few gold coins. Olana smacked the clean shaven man on the back of his head-though the action was quite difficult for her since she was the shortest one there, "Ignore him. He just needs his next hit."
Hadvar's eyes widened at that, "Skooma? By the Eight-you know what? I don't want to hear anymore of this. Let's just get out of here before that dragon gets us."
Arlen became serious and leaned against a stone wall with bottle of ale in hand, "That's not really a dragon, is it? They've been dead for, what-hundreds of years now?"
"Hmmm...But if dragons are here...how is that possible? The last Dragonborn was killed during the Oblivion Crisis...why is one awake?" The Breton questioned, trying to think back to when the last true crisis hit. And it was a crisis indeed. Daedra everywhere!
The woman thought, but to no avail as she summoned the Daedra Markynaz, the massive Daedra Lord looming over the group, armor gleaming with the torchlight, a greatsword resting upon his back as the Daedra's helmeted head looked down upon the Breton.
"Greeting, Markynaz. Are there any rumors in the Realms of Oblivion of disturbances?"
"No." The Daedra replied, crossing his arms over his chest, clearly not assuming that the little Breton had only summoned him to play twenty questions. Even one question was asking to get your head lopped off. Markynaz disappeared in a swirl of smoke.
"Well, I tried. There's nothing going on in Oblivion." Shealyne shrugged, the others staring at the odd woman, "What?...he's my friend."
"Daedra don't have friends!" Arlen cried, "He looked like he was gonna eat you for dinner! Roast you over a fire!"
"Make it rare." Olana randomly commented, "I like bloody meat..."
Hadvar looked at the strange group, wondering how the hell he was unfortunate enough to end up with such an idiotic and drug addicted group, "...this is what I get for being nice..."
A roar seemed to shake the whole fort as the ceiling began to cave in, Hadvar booking it towards where he thought was the mountain exit, his merry band of misfit friends following, "Come on! Damn, that dragon doesn't give up easy, eh?"
"I wonder what it's looking for. Animals in the wild are never on fools' errands; they always have a purpose for doing things. This dragon can't be any different." Olana muttered while the group descended down the tunnel, the other way blocked in.
The tunnel shortly became hollowed out of the stone; they must've reached the mountain. They continued to a large cave with an underground stream running through it. There was barely any light...they're lucky Hadvar took a torch with him.
"Yes..I remember now. I was taken through here at the beginning of my career as a soldier. I'm from Riverwood, you know. Just down the river." Hadvar told them, "The exit should be just on the other side of this cave."
"There better not be a damn bear in here or something. We have enough shit going on." Arlen remarked.
As they reached the other side, carefully treading, they saw there were indeed no bears.
A roar was then heard echoing throughout the caves, the group glancing behind them to notice that it was coming from the torture chambers.
"Damn!" Shealyne muttered, beginning to run through the darkness as if she had no problem seeing, the others struggling behind her.
"Oh, Papa, no..." Olana muttered, hoping they got out in time before the large male descended upon them, for the Beast was cruel and unmerciful.
"Shealyne!" Hadvar shouted, trying to follow her but she had fled into the darkness impossibly quick.
"Where's the exit? We have to leave now, he can easily move those rocks with his strength!" Arlen chased after Hadvar and shook him to get him to focus.
"R-Right, this way! Hurry!" with his torch, he spotted the landmark that indicated the exit: the three stalagmites all close together in a row. "The tunnel is behind this." and he led Arlen and Olana past them, hoping Shealyne would find them and follow.
It was not long until there was the light of the day, and the three of them plunged into the warm sunlight.
"Yes! Finally, the sun!" Arlen laid on the ground, taking in the sun rays.
"Ooh no, if she's stuck in there with that..thing!" Hadvar worried.
'She's a vampire. I can feel it now, too.' Olana thought to herself, 'My father is so much stronger than me, that's why he could sense her earlier. The abhorrence between werewolves and vampires gets to us at some point...'
Hadvar could not believe what he was seeing. He's in a group with a Daedric summoner, a drunken skooma sucker, a lady werewolf, and now being chased by Papa Wolf? What has his life come to? What happened to the peaceful days of guard duty back in Cyrodiil? No magic, no mythological creatures, just beating up criminals that got out of line.
Shealyne approached from the nearby bushes, having obviously ran for her life as she hesitantly approached, "...I'm sorry for...running away. I'm sorry." She wasn't sure what else to say, her red irises downcast from the sensitivity from the sun's rays.
Olana scowled at what she now knew was a vampire. She wondered if she should alert the others; not now, she decided, not with her father hot on their trail.
"It's all right, at least we're all together now...I suppose we should go to Riverwood: the closest town. My uncle is the blacksmith there. He can help us. Or if you want to split up, that's fine by me." Hadvar replied, beginning to walk down the path towards his hometown.
Shealyne looked around for a bit before slowly following, wishing to distance herself as far away from the threats as possible.
Arlen and Olana looked at each other before Arlen rose to his feet, the pair choosing to follow the young Nord down the river road.
"Ahh, Riverwood? Do we have to? My ex-wife is from there. Told me to go get her stupid 'family artifact' from some dungeon and I was like 'Hell no.' Left her right there." Arlen complained as they strode off the mountain towards Riverwood.