¡Hola! This chapter I think will be mainly Mzar focused; I may find a spot to introduce one of my other 2 OCs. Hope ya like!
Mzar POV
He had meandered north through the wilds north of Helgen for a few days, setting snares for rabbits when he ran out of meat. He hadn't seen the dragon since his escape. One day he stumbled upon a small village nestled near a river, surrounded by pine forest.
"Ho, wanderer!" The blacksmith called as he entered through the town gate. "Care to take a look at some finely crafted weapons and armour?"
Mzar walked up to the man. He was quite large and had dirty blond hair and a beard.
"Name's Alvor." He said. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Mzar".
A man's head snapped up. He was in the corner of the porch, sharpening a dagger.
"Prisoner!" He shouted, jumping up with the dagger pointed at Mzar. He was tthe man with the list from Helgen.
Mzar took a step back and whipped out his dagger, reaching around his belt for an axe he had found. "Stay back." He said calmly.
The man lowered the dagger slightly. "You were at Helgen." He said. "Tell him what happened." He jerked his head at the smith.
"Hadvar, enough! We've been through this before. You need to rest a few days. You must've hit your head hard during the Stormcloak raid. And that's exactly what it was. A raid. Not some thrice-damned dragon."
"It was a dragon." Mzar said; an air of solemnity in his voice. Hadvar's not crazy. It tore Helgen to the floor.
Alvor turned to him, eyes narrow. "Why would I lie to a stranger I just met? Especially when defending a man who just pulled a knife on me?"
The questions hung in the air between the three. "Impossible." Alvor muttered, turning, a hand coming to his forehead.
Hadvar laid the knife on the table, and Mzar sheathed his own dagger. "If that was really was a dragon, then someone needs to inform the Jarl at once."
"Where does the Jarl reside?" Mzar asked. He had been hoping too find a largely populated area, where he could trade some of the items he had gathered.
"Whiterun. It's a city a few miles away. Over the ridge, on the other side of the river. If you'd take word to the Jarl, I'd be grateful."
"I had been planning to find somewhere big, with lots of markets. I'll set off on the morrow." He was relieved that he would be getting to a city.
"Here." Alvor handed him a bag "Those are some provisions for the trip"
He thanked Alvor, stepping out of the porch and heading out of the village. He hoped this Whiterun journey wouldn't take too long.
He had heard of Whiterun before, but had never visited it. He knew it lay somewhat in central Skyrim, but Blackreach was far to the North East, and his actual home in Nchuand-Zel was in the westernmost areas.
He slung the bag over his shoulder as he began to stride towards the bridge over the river. He stopped at the other side, glancing up ahead. There was a goat trail leading straight over the ridge, and a road leading around. He sighed as he began to ascend the goat rail. It was going to be rough going.
Jytte POV
She arrived at the gates of Riften. The guard stepped forth. "Visitor's tax." He said simply, holding out his hand.
"Tell Brynjolf he can shove it up his arse" She replied, walking forward and pushing open the gates.
She arrived at the graveyard thirty minutes later, and reached behind the empty coffin in the crypt. She grabbed up her old Thieves Guild armour and slid it on, shoving the Imperial leathers in it's place. It would be useful to have a bit of spare protection in case hers got damaged.
She crouched down an pressed in the seal on the coffin. A quiet sound of stone on stone resonated, and she ascended the stairs into the secret underground city that was the Riften Ratways.
A/N: Sorry to cut it short guys, but tonight I didn't have enough time to upload a proper chapter as I was busy. Hopefully I'll upload the other half of it tomorrow before I return to my normal length chapters. Hope you enjoyed, leave a review or favourite, follow the story if you're into it. See ya!