Escape

I actually breathed a sigh of relief when the man on my other side grew impatient with the rigamarole and 'volunteered' to go first, just like in the game. He stomped over to the block and knelt in position. The executioner raised his axe and let it fall. My stomach emptied violently on the ground.

Yes, I've seen this part of the prologue several times. No, it doesn't make me puke every time. Try having your own ass standing in line for the chopping block for a change. And it wasn't exactly like in the game, either. There were no censors here, making sure the gore was held to a minimum for a teenaged audience. And they spared us from the harsh reality of bowel release and convulsions in the guy's death, too. My knees about gave way.

One of the officers pointed me out as the next one for the axe, and I almost pissed down my leg. I cast a desperate look at the Orc, and I'm pretty sure my lower lip trembled. His head turned slightly, and I think he was actually looking at me out of the corner of his eye. Hard to tell with no pupils, etc. He grunted, and dipped his chin slightly.

That's it? That's all you've got? Shaking uncontrollably, I dragged myself over to the block.

It's weird how fear will make you deaf. I don't remember hearing the dragon's roar, and barely acknowledged the Imperials looking around in confusion when they heard it. All I could see was the black-clad executioner; all I heard was the crunch of my own feet on the ground as I approached. I'd rather not think about what I smelled. Jesus, they didn't even have the courtesy to shove the dead man out of the way, so not only did I have to kneel beside a shit-covered corpse, I had to look down into the meaty, bony, gooey, bloody mess of the stump of his neck sticking out of his head in the basket. No wonder your avatar in the game looks up at the executioner; much better view.

So I got a really awesome view of the dragon when it landed on the top of the tower and Shouted at everyone.

It was like getting hit by a blast from a wind tunnel. I fell across the block and my face actually rammed into the head stump. If the desperate desire to live hadn't been so strong, I might have vomited again. As it was, I just lay there in a stupor from the blast, with a face-full of dead guy head, until I felt a pair of bound hands grab my shirt in the middle of my back and literally drag me toward another tower. I never gained my feet, my rescuer was in such a damn hurry to reach cover. Once inside, I was tossed to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

"A dragon, Ulfric!" Ralof was saying. "They are the harbingers of the End Times. I never thought to see one in my lifetime. What does it mean?"

The same rough hands yanked me to my feet, and I saw it was the Orc. He presumably looked me over before turning to the other Nords. Other Nords. It occurred to me, for some reason, that the Imperials had assumed I was one of the natives. What the hell did I look like, then? Because back home, I had pretty dark hair and eyes. Not something you'd associate with this Viking-esque people, but then they came in all sorts of different shapes and sizes, I supposed.

I was startled out of my thoughts by what felt like a wrecking ball hitting the tower. Everyone was staggered.

"We've got to get out of here. We should separate," Ulfric said. "Take these prisoners with you. I'll take the others."

"We will make for Windhelm when this storm blows over," Ralof vowed, clasping wrists with the Jarl. Then he turned to the stairs. "Follow me, this way. There may be a way across to another tower up the stairs."

As expected, we only got around one turn of the curved stairs when the wall exploded, and a great gout of flame blew in, cooking one of the Stormcloaks in front of us. I nearly fell back down the stairs, but the Orc was like another wall at my back. However, when I fell into him, his bound hands were, of course, in front.

There's nothing quite like getting goosed by an Orc.

"You must jump down, to that inn," Ralof said, pointing out through the giant hole in the wall. I gaped at him.

"Jump? Are you insane?"

"We can go no further!" he shouted, gesturing at the rubble blocking the stairs above us. "You must!"

"You suck!" I shouted, because I knew his ass wasn't going to follow us. Behind me, the Orc just grunted and flung himself out into space.

Well, I couldn't let him do something that retarded without joining him. He might think I'm soft. So out I went. Thankfully, the Orc wasn't all that fast, and broke my fall quite nicely. This did not please him.

"Get off me!" he roared, swinging his arms like a club. I barely avoided a serious thunk. "Clumsy bitch!"

"You make a real shitty pillow," I snapped, struggling to my feet. He rose as well, and probably would have given me a similar cuddle to the one he gave the thief if we had the luxury of time. The dragon was having a field day out there, though. The screaming of the panicked citizens was frequently punctuated by the dragon's roar as he swooped back and forth, laying waste and setting everything on fire.

I followed the Orc down through a hole in the floor to the ground level, then out into the open. He didn't seem particularly disturbed, while I was having a hard time maintaining my composure. I kept trying to remind myself that everything was happening like in the game, so I knew how it would all play out. So far, it was going according to script. Except that if I was the Dragonborn, I didn't remember there being a cranky Orc companion this early.

Still, I had to admit that having a buddy in this hell hole was nice, especially since I could just follow in his wake. We emerged from the ruins of the inn, and joined a couple of Imperials trying to evacuate some citizens. One of them called us over.

"Follow me, prisoners, if you want to live." Then he took off, shouting over his shoulder, "Stay close to the walls!"

I exchanged a glance with the Orc, shrugged, and we followed the officer. It was a good thing we took his advice, because we weren't skirting the stonework for more than a few yards when the dragon landed on the wall right above us and set the adjacent building on fire. I swear, the monster's wing was so close I could touch it. I cringed up against the Orc for a moment, and heartily wished our hands weren't bound, because I could've used a hug right about now. Even from him.

We kept on, dodging people and flaming piles of people, until we reached this great big courtyard, and finally saw Ralof again. He had a manly exchange of harsh words with our Imperial guard, then ran for the keep. The Orc seemed to favor throwing his lot in with the Stormcloaks, and followed the Nord. I, of course, followed the Orc.

Once inside, we had a moment to catch our breaths, and finally Ralof saw fit to cut our bonds. I chafed my wrists as the Orc didn't hesitate to relieve a Stormcloak corpse of its armor and weapon. It didn't bother me that there was only one spare axe; he could have it. What the hell would I do with it? I could barely handle a kitchen knife. However, he didn't think twice about putting on the guy's armor, discarding his prisoner rags in the process.

I learned something in that moment; two things, actually. One, this Orc had no modesty whatsoever, stripping off right in front of me without a glance in my direction. Two, this was really really real. Like, devoid of those lame little cloth flaps to hide a man's equipment, kind of real.

It's not like I'm a total prude, but when presented with such a package as this Orc was sporting... he was an eye-catcher, that's for damn sure. Toned and muscular, if mossy greenish in skin tone. I confess I was curious. He wasn't human, after all. But there wasn't anything appreciably different between his endowments and that of a human male. He was just... darker. More like an African American than a Caucasian, but pretty much the same.

A few minutes later, we heard the arrival of a couple of Imperials, and found ourselves engaged in pitched battle. I pretty much cowered in a corner while Ralof and the Orc, who still hadn't bothered to introduce himself, dispatched them in short order. Then it was another round of striptease without the tease as the Orc went for one of the Imperial's steel armor. I forced myself to take the lighter-weight armor off the other one while Ralof fumbled a rusty key in the barred door that would lead us out. Unlike the Orc, I kept the flimsy rags on and just put the armor on over them.

At least, I tried to. There were a ton of buckles and straps, not to mention there were no leggings. You could probably call it a hauberk, but I would call it a well-armored skirt. I could feel a draft up the back. Regardless, I fumbled and swore under my breath, getting almost nowhere, until the Orc came over and batted my hands away. Those creepy eyes of his narrowed as he jerked the leather to hang properly, and pulled the buckles tight.

"You don't have to suffocate me," I hissed.

"Armor is like skin," he growled. "You wear it as such, and it will serve you, not hinder you."

"What the hell is your name?" I snapped. "If I'm going to be felt up, it would be nice to know who's doing it."

He glanced up at my face, or I think he did, anyway. "Mauronk."

"Great. Call me Danni." He grunted. It seemed to be his default response to anything he had no witty answer to.

Truth be told, he knew what he was doing. The armor did feel more natural when he got done with it. Finally dressed to kill, we followed the Nord out of the circular room and down into the dungeons.