Ralof II
A fever broke through all of Skyrim after the Empire started drafting men into their forces. Windhelm and the Thanes of Eastmarch began seeking out recruits for an armed rebellion. Ulfric's militia was now known as the Stormcloaks, a name they carried with pride. The recruited through the countryside in small villages like Riverwood and even sent men into the bars and taverns of cities like Whiterun. My heart cried out for these rebels. They stood against the odds of facing the Imperial Legion. Entire Holds were joining this movement.
It was not long after Hadvar left for Solitude or Helgen or wherever he left for a Stormcloak came through the village trying to recruit the Nords to fight. He probably could have gotten Faendal's name on a list if he would have asked his story. Everyone in town knew Faendal was from Valenwood and left there when he crossed the Dominion. The Nord recruiter would only take Nords though.
That was my only problem with the Stormcloaks. I am not a racist. I just do not want someone to tell me how to live my life. I don't care of you are an Imperial, Nord, Redguard, Breton, whatever. I am suspicious of Khajiits and the High Elves. The cats because they are mainly thieves and the High Elves because I believe in Talos. If the Stormcloaks open their ranks to others then they would do a lot better in recruitment.
The recruiter was talking to Sven one day out at the mill when Hod and I walked up.
"Kinsmen, it is good to see you." The cheerful man greeted us.
"Aye, it is. Good day to you, but we need to get to work. This timber is in high demand thanks to your lot." Hod smiled at the man.
"That is good for you. I am glad we can help a fellow Nord. Speaking of which, have either of you two thought about joining up?" He clapped Sven on the shoulder. "I have been talking to this man here and he said I needed to speak with you."
"I have a wife and son to worry about. I have this mill to run. I protect this village when bandits raid. I will not fight in a rich man's war." Hod turned and walked away.
"And you?" He turned to me.
"I have no reason not to. I am just a farmer and lumberjack. I don't know how to fight." I did not handle pressure well. I could not think of a single reason. I thought the Stormcloaks were in the right after all.
Well, mostly right.
"Well, do you believe in the Ninth Divine, Skyrim's favorite son?"
"Damn straight I do. I believe in Talos." I pulled the amulet out from under my shirt and showed the man.
"Do you believe anyone else can tell you how to worship?"
"Hell no. I can believe in whoever I want to."
"Do you think them damn witch elves have any business patrolling Skyrim looking for reasons to kill our brothers and sisters?"
"Hell no!"
"And the Imperial milk drinkers who let them, do they have any business telling us what to do now that they have spit on the name of our most hallowed kinsmen?"
"No they don't" I was shouting. Sven rolled his eyes and walked away.
"Does any Elder Councilman in the Imperial City have any business telling the farmers, smiths, or lumberjacks of Skyrim how they need to raise their families?"
"No sir they don't." I looked at the man who had a grim look on his face.
"Boy get your ass to Windhelm the first chance you get. Report to Galmar Stone-Fist."
That I did the first chance I got. It took a week to get everything squared away with Gerdur and another week to travel to Windhelm. Skyrim's roads are dangerous for lone travelers and thankfully I met up with a group of traders going from Whiterun to Windhelm and journeyed with them.
After meeting Galmar and spying Jarl Ulfric for a few moments I was sent to Serpentstone Isle in Winterhold. I would spend two weeks camped there with a tent, an axe, and my new Stormcloak armor. When I returned I would bring back some sign that I had been there.
I traveled to the isle easily enough, I stuck to the main road and tried to stay with Stormcloak patrols when I could. I set traps for rabbits or snow foxes when I needed food and cooked them and melted snow to drink with the food. I did the same when I got there but I discovered not all was well when I arrived. The isle held one of the Standing Stones of Skyrim: the Serpent Stone. This Stone attracted Ice Wraiths, not just a few but they congregate in large numbers. Many animals avoided the wraiths so I would have to leave to find food and return to my sparse camp. Every day I would fight off any Ice Wraith that saw me. One in sight the creatures would attack anything. These frost spirits are hostile to anything that is not an Ice Wraith.
I lived like this for two weeks. My axe had become dull and I carried no whet stone to sharpen it. My armor was wearing thin. The wraith attacks tore through the light mail and dense fabric. My tent was falling apart. It was a cheap, quick military tent that would be in good use in Whiterun or Falkreath, not the dense snow of Winterhold. I was naturally able to fight the cold, but after two weeks of only what little heat I could get going by fire I was beginning to freeze.
When my last day came I was woken up by wraiths tearing through the remains of the tent and biting into my arm. I grabbed one end of the mouth of the wraith, my hand getting cut in its icy maw, pulling I freed my bleeding arm. Then I grabbed the other end of its mouth and pulled until I felt something give inside the beast's mouth. When it started to flop like a fish out of water I took my dull axe and began to slam it into the wraith's body. Ice went flying everywhere cutting into me, stinging, and making me bleed. When I finally stopped slamming into the frozen body of the ice wraith I realized it was long dead and I had went into a berserker state. I had become like the barbarians of lore.
When I made it back to the Palace of Kings I handed Galmar my axe, the ice of the wraith I killed that last morning still frozen onto the axe. Then I walked to the throne room where Ulfric looked bored on the throne and knelt.
He asked if I was ready for my next mission when Galmar reminded him that I had not yet taken the oath. It was a little repeat after me thing, like the prayers and oaths I was taught as a kid.
"I do swear my blood and honor to the service of Ulfric Stormcloak..."
"...Jarl of Windhelm and true High King of Skyrim."
"As Talos is my witness, may this oath bind me to death and beyond..."
"...even to my lord as to my fellow brothers and sisters in arms."
"All hail the Stormcloaks, the true sons and daughters of Skyrim!"