Hey everyone!
This is my first story in this style, so I don't know how well it'll read. I hope there isn't any annoying mistakes throughout this chapter, but I'm pretty proud of it.
Now to clarify, this story is going to be set in a modded version of Skyrim. There is going to be content from multiple different mods of varying sizes, but there is also going to be different alterations of my own to spice things up.
This will range from completely original stories that will be part of this adventure to minor (or major) changes to the plots of both vanilla Skyrim content and the content from mods. Just keep in mind, there will be changes to just about everything discussed in this story.
Anyways, I hope you enjoy the first chapter of this journey! Without further ado, this is is:
Chapter One: Helgen Burned
Sundas, the 17th of Last Seed 4E 201.
Father has finally decided that I am of the age to run shipment deliveries for myself. It's about time, too. I can tell his old age is starting to get to him, even if he won't admit it. Besides, I'm a man now, it's about time I take over some of the more physical jobs so he can finally get his rest.
I know the war was hard on him. He never talks about it, but I've read his journals. Serving in the Sons of Talos and experiencing the battles he went through during his time as a soldier through his writings is actually what inspired me to begin a journal of my own.
I suppose I should start by introducing myself, now that I think about it. My name is Soll Goldwood, and I am the son of the war hero, Weylin Goldwood. The way he says it, though, he wasn't much of a hero. War stories tend to be exaggerated, according to him.
Dad taught me a lot about what he learned about using a sword, which is probably the only reason he let me go on this trip alone. Mom was still worried sick, though.
Her name's Marianne, and she's just about the sweetest woman you'd ever meet. She might be a little overprotective, but given the state that Skyrim is in, I would be too. Tensions have been at a high ever since the High King was murdered, which was really the event that ignited the sparks of war.
The only province not on a side is the one I call home, Whiterun, though I'm not sure how long that'll last. We live out near Rorikstead, but even then, we're pretty isolated from the rest of them. Father bought some land from Rorik, who he met during the Great War, and he's lived and worked the land there ever since.
We deliver food as far west as Morthal and as far east as Ivarstead, and for the longest time, father would dare the journey on his own, but now that he's realizing that his age is hindering his ability to move, it's my time to take up that duty. Besides, this is a great opportunity to explore parts of Skyrim I've never gotten to see before!
The only major city I've ever been to is Whiterun, and even then, I never went past the gates because I had to watch after the family horse.
I suppose that doesn't really matter, but I figured that it'd be a good idea to give a backstory for my life in case I ever become a famous adventure like I've always wanted to.
The excitement of a good adventure was always appealing, and I've decided to consider this the beginning of an amazing journey!
As the sun sat low, just barely poking out from behind the mountains behind Helgen, I stared up to see two guards wearing the standard uniforms of the Imperial Legion. "What is your business here?" demanded the older of the two, his age evident from the gray hairs on his long and scruffy beard. Divines, I wish I could grow a beard as good as that.
"Er, just delivering supplies!" I called, squinting in the sunlight. The guard to the elder of the two's left whispered something unintelligible to myself into the outspoken one's ear.
The guard grinned. "Open up the gate!" he ordered. "Vikk'll be glad to hear you've arrived!" Left to assume Vikk was the one who ran the inn here in Helgen. The wooden doors to Helgen swung open, seeming very welcoming. Stone walls gave way to a semi open road with a handful of buildings lining the leftmost wall. There was a large tower towards the center of the small town and on my left sat the keep to Helgen. At least a dozen guards were patrolling as I slowly strode past them on Garr, which was the name of my horse.
Garr was a good horse, but one could never be too careful. After all, there were a few small children running around, playing tag. So, in order to prevent any accidents resulting from a youthful curiosity, I leashed Garr to a wooden bar that jutted out from the ground, clearly planted there for this very purpose.
I entered the building, known as the Honeysweet Inn, judging by the sign, holding a bag of wheat that weighed nearly thirty pounds. It was quite the large order, but it wasn't like I was going to complain, all that it meant was that there would be more money to spend.
There was another bag still on Garr's saddle to bring in, but at the moment that wasn't my priority. I had never been in an inn before because we lived outside of any settlement in Whiterun. The closest was Rorikstead, but that was still a half day's journey away from us.
The warmth of the fireplace was a welcome sensation, given that the cold breeze that had been blowing nonstop during the ride to Helgen had made my face feel completely numb. The smell of an open bottle of mead entered my nostrils, coming from a drunkard in the corner who was listening to the bard as he played the lute.
The bard was singing the Age of Aggression, a common song on this side of Skyrim. I had to admit, he wasn't that bad, either. Whoever taught him had done a good job. I put the bard out of my mind and walked up to the man behind the counter. Long black hair and a thin beard was what I was met with. There was a long scar over his left eye, a trophy from some battle judging by the shape of it. That was no bear claw.
"I was told the owner, Vikk, ordered two sacks of grain?" I prompted, to which the half blind man grinned.
"That's me," came the deep voice of Vikk, showing off his missing tooth as he smiled at me. "Bring the rest inside and I'll hand over the payment." Vikk decided, and I set down the one bag I had brought in behind the counter.
Leaving the inn momentarily, I soon returned with the other half of the shipment. Vikk was ready for me upon my arrival, a large sack of coin in his hand. When I sat down the bag, he tossed the septims my way. I was able to catch them, if only barely.
"I'd stick around, if I were you. The war's about to finished for good," Vikk advised. I stared at the barkeeper in disbelief. For a war that had been going on for a while now, to have it end so abruptly did not seem likely. "Couple of soldiers came into town about an hour before you did. Said something about Jarl Ulfric being brought here soon."
The drunkard cleared his throat. "That Ulfric's a cold blooded traitor!" he spat, slamming his cup onto the table a couple of times. "Murdered the High King!" he added before spluttering out the mad ramblings of a drunken man.
"I wouldn't want to miss this day if I were you," Vikk said, ignoring the outburst from the patron. "I expect you'll be hearing a new song about today soon enough." Vikk shot a glance at the bard, who had just finished his song. Maybe this war really would be over, and Skyrim could finally be relatively peaceful.
"I think I will stay in the area, thanks," I agreed, kicking off my boots and setting them by the fire.
And so what felt like hours passed, and during that time, I had the time of my life. My first cup of mead, and then a few more, and then it slowly became over a dozen as I cheered with the drunkard whilst the bard sung his heart out. After hearing Vikk talk about the incoming soldiers, the bard began to sing songs that honored the Empire, for today would be a truly glorious day. The end of a bloody conflict that had taken the lives of many Nords was a pleasant prospect to me, as it should be for anyone else who had suffered because of this damnedable war.
But despite the gloomy last couple of years, spirits were high, and by the time a man donning the steel variant of Imperial armor rode in on a large steed, a woman whose arrival was announced by a local who barged in. Almost immediately, the inn was devoid of any life and lined up along the stone path. A hand on Garr's brown mane, I watched as the gates swung open.
Upon doing a double take, I noticed that there was a small group of High Elves from the Aldemeri Dominion present. Members of the Thalmor, judging by their long black robes, which also sported gold accents. The first of the Imperials to enter was General Tullius, the recently appointed military governor. He had only been in charge for a couple of months, but he had already made great strides to reuniting Skyrim.
The head of the group of Thalmor forced Tullius to break off from the rest of his men, who began to slowly file in. Many carriages of Stormcloak rebels came in four at a time, except for the very last of them. On that last cart was a blonde Nord man, one who looked a lot like a woman who I had talked to in Riverwood. To his left was, oddly enough, a man in rags, one that looked very out of place, but that wasn't the weirdest thing about that group.
The third and final member was Ulfric Stormcloak, the Jarl of Windhelm and leader of the rebellion himself. That was to be expected, but the strange part was that his mouth was gagged. I had no idea as to why they would do such a thing, but then I realized that he was the leader of a rebellion for a reason. It was entirely possible that he could stir up a riot then and there with just his voice.
As they passed by the inn, I could only think of all that these rebels had been responsible for since they declared war on the Empire. After murdering High King Torryg, Ulfric had quickly received support from the holds east of Whiterun, and those west of it were opposed. Since then, not much ground had been gained by either side, but much had been lost. Not only soldiers, but also the poor citizens who had been caught up in battles that dotted the landscapes of Skyrim.
The Nord sitting with Ulfric was arguing with the out of place man, continuing until their carriage came to a stop.
At that point, there were many Stormcloaks lined up around the executioner's block, all awaiting for Ulfric to be grouped in with them. After checking the final two rebels off the list (and the death of the random man, who had attempted to flee), they began the execution.
General Tullius, who had returned from his meeting with the Thalmor, walked up to Ulfric, staring him directly in his eyes. "Ulfric Stormcloak, you started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos!" Tullius exclaimed. "Now, the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace!" Ulfric tried to speak through his gag, yet only muffled noises came out.
"Let's get this over with."
The first thing to happen was a priest stepping up to give them their rights. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius," began the regal sounding priest, "Blessings of the Eight Divines be upon you-" she continued, before being cut off by a loud mouthed Stormcloak with deep red hair.
"Shut up! Let's get this over with," barked the rebel, who began to walk up to the block, a steely gaze in his eyes. He did not fear death, and that much I could respect.
"Very well," relented the priest, who stepped back from the executioner.
An officer, the one who had been the first to arrive before the main band of soldiers, forced the rebel down to his knees. "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials," said the Stormcloak with a grin. As his head hit the stone cold block, he mocked them. "Can you say the same?"
The executioner's axe was all the response that he received.
When the Stormcloak's head landed in the basket, residents of Helgen cheered. "Justice!" one called. "Death to the Stormcloaks!" said another.
Despite the jeers of the residents, I could hear the one who had came in with Ulfric, Ralof, if I had heard the soldier right, say, "As fearless in death as he was in life." After the brief outburst from the Helgen townspeople, the officer there ordered the ceremony to continue.
"Next, the one from Riverwood!" barked the officer, who kicked the corpse of the decapitated Stormcloak off of the block. Before Ralof could move, a roar echoed throughout the valley between the Throat of the World and the border to Cyrodiil.
"What was that?" asked a soldier with short hair.
"I said next prisoner!" reiterated the captain.
"I'm sorry it had to be this way, Ralof," said the same soldier, who seemed to know Ralof to some capacity.
"I'm not," Ralof said simply. "Jarl Ulfric is the rightful High King of Skyrim!" he declared, and his voice was followed by another roar.
At this point, I was very suspicious. I had never heard of any kind of beast that was that loud, with the exception of a mammoth, but no mammoth sounded like what this mysterious beast did.
It wasn't like I was going to panic, after all, there were soldiers everywhere, keeping an eye out and protecting them. No animal could ever hope to attempt to attack Helgen right now and survive. "Get this over with!" the captain ordered. Ralof took one more step forward and was forced to the ground.
As he put his head against the block, a great black beast came out from behind the mountain. It was as big as a building and as black as night. The wings of the creature stretched out nearly twice as long as the beast's body went on for, which created quite the terrifying image as it turned to fly towards our location.
"It's in the clouds!" I shouted, alerting the soldiers to the beast hurtling through the air towards.
"Sentries, what do you see?" the captain asked, to which one responded with a single word that confirmed my worst fears. That thing was a dragon, no doubt about it. Even if they had been gone for millenia, there was no mistaking it. That was the harbinger of the End Times.
The dragon landed on the tower in front of us all and let out a mighty roar that shook the very ground they stood on. At that moment, the sky itself changed. Instantly, dark clouds blocked out the sun and fire fell like rain. A meteor landed nearby, crushing a wooden home. I could only hope no one was inside.
In the chaos, the executioner was killed and Ralof ran away to a nearby tower. Seeing as that was a stone building, which was presumably more safe from this terrifying foe, I took off for the same building. Right now, being a Stormcloak didn't really matter. This was all to survive in the world's most bizarre circumstances.
Allegiances not in my mind, I got in just as Ralof closed the door. There was a wounded Stormcloak laying on the ground nearby, being nursed by another of their own. "Jarl Ulfric, what was that thing?" Ralof asked, turning to his leader. "Could the legends be true?"
"Legends don't burn down villages," Ulfric replied dryly.
"We need to get a better view of what's happening!" I suggested, making my presence known.
Ralof gave me a quizzical look but went along with my idea. "Up the tower, let's go!" Ralof and I took off up the stairs, which spiraled up the tower to the roof of the structure. "Never thought this would be how I would die..." I heard Ralof mutter under his breath as we sprinted.
Upon reaching the second floor, I saw yet another Stormcloak rummaging through some rubble for something. Before I could ask him what he was doing, the wall on our right was knocked down by the dragon. "Get down!" I yelled. Ralof reacted in time, but the other did not. The Stormcloak was roasted by flames straight from the dragon's maw. It was tragic, yes, but this was a very dangerous situation, we couldn't stop to mourn the passing of a Nord.
"This dragon must be brought to justice," Ralof decided, a determined and steely look in his eyes. "You, go! Jump to the inn!" Ralof yelled. "You'll be safer out of this mess!" I nodded, praying to whichever Divine was listening that Ralof would be safe. Even if he was a Stormcloak, he seemed like a good guy, someone I could even call friend in other circumstances.
With a running start I leapt forward, rolling into a landing in the ruins of the inn owned by Vikk. Hopefully he was safe during this chaotic attack, but that was the least of my concerns at the moment. The roof was caving in and the building as a whole was on fire, likely from the fireballs raining from the sky.
Escaping the burning building, what I was met with was the Imperial who had been listing off the Stormcloaks earlier helping a young boy take cover. "Hamming! Over here, now!" he encouraged.
"Boy, get out of here!" a man, who had to be the boy, Hamming's father, demanded. "I'm a dead man walking," he stated, clutching his injured body as he lay on the ground, writhing in pain.
"Don't talk like that! We're gonna make it out of here just fine!" the Imperial shouted. Just as he said that, the dragon descended from the sky and landed in front of the injured man. "Behind me, now!" the Imperial ordered, and we all took cover behind the ruined building.
The dragon took off once more soon after killing the father and I kept running, though I was followed by the Imperial. "Stay close to the wall!" he advised as I ran away from the destroyed inn. As I heard a loud thud behind me, I realized the dragon was atop the walls and I stuck tightly to the stone wall.
The dragon killed an archer who had neglected to notice the beast and flew away to attack more people in the burning town. "Come on, the keeps not far, it'll keep you safe!" the Imperial yelled. Running through a burning building, we made it to the entrance I had taken to make it into the town, only now there were dead bodies everywhere. Most were of soldiers, but there were also some regular citizens who had been turned into victims of the dragon.
If there was something I could do to make the beast pay, I would do it.
"Hadvar! Get to the keep soldier, we're leaving!" Tullius, who was commanding the archers at the moment, shouted at the Imperial. Harvard had to be his name. Hadvar and I kept running for a short while longer, coming to the keep, which had two entrances. Surprisingly enough, Ralof was there too.
"Ralof! Out of my way!" Hadvar demanded.
"We're escaping, Hadvar! You're not stopping us this time!" Ralof responded. "Come on!" Ralof gestured for me to come with him and it wasn't that hard of a decision. After all, I felt closer to Ralof, and at the moment, his allegiance didn't really matter.
The door slammed shut behind us just as the dragon crashed into the ground outside of the keep, leaving us to be alone for at least a brief moment. "That beast ought to not be able to get to us in here," Ralof said as he took in a deep breath and sighed. "That thing was a dragon, no doubt. Just like the children stories and the legends. The harbingers of the End Times," Ralof decided, a statement that I agreed with. There was nothing else that the beast could've been, based off of what I remember my mother telling me during my youth to lull me to sleep.
"That was Gunjar," Ralof said, looking over to a dead Stormcloak on the floor. "Some Imperial bastard must've found him in here. We'll seem him in Sovngarde," Ralof surmised before turning his gaze to a wooden gate barring off a corridor. "Put that armor on and give that axe a few swings," Ralof instructed.
If I was going to have to fight anyone, I would need the equipment to do so, so I didn't object to the idea.
The armor was a little big on me, but it wasn't egregiously so. The mesh underneath felt a little rough on my skin but if it would protect me better, I wouldn't complain. Wearing a dead man's armor was a little odd, that was for sure, but it was a necessity. I did know that I would be getting rid of it as soon as possible.
"Come on, soldier, keep moving!" came the stern voice of the Imperial captain from behind the wooden bars.
"It's the Imperials! Take cover!" Ralof hissed, crouching behind the wall to the immediate left of the bars. I took my place at his right and prepared myself for what would be a battle. Hadvar would be with the captain, but there could be many others with her as well, so I had to be ready for just about anything.
Ralof and I had our axes ready by our sides as the gate was lowered. Then, Hadvar walked into the room first, and Ralof took a big swing for his head. As he did, I ran past and took a shot at the captain. The captain, who had reflexes hardened from war, was able to get out of the way, but Hadvar was not. His limp form hit the stone floor as Ralof and I took on the captain together.
Ralof went for a sweeping attack with his axe, which the captain blocked with her standard issue blade. Then, she pulled a dagger out of her satchel, which she used to jab at Ralof, who jerked his body out of the way to avoid it.
I took a swing at her, landing a glancing blow on her sword arm, leaving a decently sized gash where spotless skin had once been. A cry of pain came from her mouth as her blade fell to the ground and Ralof kicked her onto the ground. "This is for all the sons and daughters of Skyrim you've killed," Ralof said before picking up her sword and stabbing it into her skull, gouging out one of her eyes and killing her outright.
Ralof turned away from the two dead Imperials, saying, "Search their bodies, one of them is bound to have a key. I'll see if that gate opens without it." As he rattled the gate in frustration, I searched the pockets of the captain, soon finding the very key we likely needed.
"Catch," I said before tossing the key Ralof's way. With one hand he grabbed it and inserted it into the lock, opening the gate swiftly. "I'm sure they're not the only ones in here," I stated as we walked down a staircase that led to a corridor.
"There's no doubt. With all the Imperials that were crawling around earlier, plenty likely made it down here," Ralof agreed just as the dragon roared from outside, shaking the keep itself and causing a part of the roof to cave in. "Those damned Imperials can't do anything right..." he muttered.
"I guess we need to go this way," I stated, pointing at the only door in the corridor. Ralof nodded, and as we drew nearer, I could hear talking from inside. That was the dignified voice of an Imperial alright. "There's more in there, get ready," I advised. Holding my new axe high in the air, I kicked open the door and charged inside.
Quickly scanning the room, I realized that this was a storage room, filled with potions that could help Ralof and I. Only two Imperials were on guard, and one was wearing the heaviest set of Imperial armor. The one wearing the lightest version was my decided target. With a cry I swung down, putting my weight into it as my axe collided with the man's skull, sending him sprawling onto the floor as blood poured out from where he had been hit, forming a pool around his head.
Ralof and I then quickly finished off the second of the lost soldiers. He didn't stand much of a chance against the two of us, but it definitely felt like Ralof was doing most of the heavy lifting. "Search around, try to find anything we can use," Ralof said, despite the fact that I was already doing so. Soon, I found six potions total. Four red potions of healing and two green elixirs of stamina. "Is that everything?" Ralof asked, to which I nodded. "Let's go!"
Ralof and I sprinted down yet another staircase, and, much to out horror, we found ourselves in a torture chamber. Two Imperials, one mage and his assistant, were currently battling with two potential Stormcloak allies, and the Imperials were winning. "For the Stormcloaks!" yelled a rebel as he swung at the assistant, who raised his shield and blocked the heavy swing.
Ralof and I took advantage of the fact that the mage was distracted and swiftly killed him, eliminating the biggest threat in the room. Then, when faced with four opponents, the assistant didn't put up much of a fight. Now given a moment to slow down, Ralof began to speak with his allies. "Was Jarl Ulfric with you?" he questioned, worry in his voice.
"No, we haven't seen him since the dragon attacked," answered one of the Stormcloaks.
"Damn it!" Ralof exclaimed, slamming a fist into one of the cages, of which it was the only one to contain a body inside. In addition to that, it also had a book with a strange symbol on the front I wasn't familiar with. A couple of septims lied next to the unique book, which created an appealing prize behind the bars of the cage.
"We could use this when we get out of here," Ralof said as he gazed between the cold iron bars of the cell longingly. Then, he crouched down low, pulling a lockpick out of his pocket and began to work away at it. "I was a bit of a mischievous lad," he revealed, "Helped me learn a few things."
Ralof swung the door open and tossed the book my way. "Take that satchel on the table, it'll help us carry all of this," Ralof ordered. Resting the strap on my left shoulder, I opened up the flap and stuffed the book, which potentially had value to a mage somewhere, and we continued on our way. "Jarl Ulfric's tough, he'll have survived that beast. We need to find a way out of here," Ralof decided as we ran past hanging cages, one of which had a skeleton in it.
I would have vivid nightmares tonight, that was for sure.
As we rushed down a path that clearly lead into a cave, I could hear someone's voice echoing down the corridor. "Hold up! Hear that?" I loudly whispered, stopping abruptly, and by proxy forcing the others to halt.
From where we stood, I could hear what they were saying. "Any word from General Tullius?" one, who had a slight tremble in his voice asked.
"None. Our orders are to stay here until he arrives," answered another, who sounded much more confident assertive answered.
"I'm not waiting to be killed by a dragon, we need to fall back!" retorted the fearful Imperial.
"On my mark, we rush them," I said, getting low to the ground and slowly approaching the entrance that opened up to a much larger cavern. There was five Imperials in here, and one archer. When the closest, which was a lookout, had his back turned to talk with his fellow soldiers, I realized that was the moment to strike.
They never knew what hit them.
The fury of four Nords came crashing down upon the Imperials in the chamber. The two the farthest from the entrance readied arrows in their bows, though when they let them loose they missed their marks by a few inches.
There was a sense of camaraderie in the air as we fought. Even though these were complete strangers to me, they were my brothers in arms. I felt like I belonged here, fighting side by side with those I could trust. Granted, I didn't know the other two Stormcloaks, but going through a life or death situation with Ralof had caused a bond to form between the two of us.
As a result of our combined efforts, the Imperials were soon dead. Ralof and I stood at the exit to the large room, looking out to a raised bridge. "We'll stay back and look for Jarl Ulfric," said one of our recently found allies. "You two go on ahead and scout for an exit. Talos be with you."
With that, Ralof and I set out down the path. I pulled on a nearby lever, causing the bridge to lower and we walked across. "We're getting closer to the exit, we've gotta be," I commented, which was more a wishful thought than anything else. Just as we crossed the bridge, the cave shook. Dust came loose from the rocks above us and some behind us fell, crushing the wooden bridge beneath it and blocking the path back.
"Damn! There's no way back now," Ralof cursed. "We'll just have to hope they find another way out."
"Come on, there's no point in thinking about that," I said, motioning for Ralof to follow me. My hand hovering over my axe, I lead the way as we traversed through the dark and damp cave system. The only source of light was a hole in the roof, but other than that, there was nothing. Then, as we reached a dead end, with only other path to choose, a lamp lit the way.
Rather unsettlingly, an old and fragile skeleton lay on a bed of rocks next to said lamp. "Something's wrong..." I muttered. "Why would the Imperials leave this here? And so close to their keep?" I thought aloud.
"Never mind that. Let's get going," Ralof said after I stared at the bones for ten seconds straight. I nodded and got back on the move, discovering that the small and narrow pathway gave way to a large room filled with cobwebs. I definitely got a bad feeling about this place.
Cautiously, I walked forwards into the dirty cave. As I did, I heard a disgusting rustling and an odd, wet noise. Then, a spider the size of a wolf, if not larger, descended from the ceiling. Momentarily stunned, I did nothing as Ralof swung at it. After that one was down, we found ourselves surrounded. "I hate these things!" Ralof yelled as he went at another one.
Still recovering, I attacked one of the freakishly large spiders.
I had never seen anything like these before. Sure, it was no dragon, but this was just as horrifying. I had never liked spiders, and now I considered myself lucky I had never come face to face with the eight eyes of these disgusting things until now. My fear merely fueled my desire to see myself rid of these things.
Despite being so large, the spiders were eliminated almost as easily as a regular one. Sure, they were a little spongy, but they couldn't take nearly as much of a beating as men in armor. "Divines know I never wanna see those again," I sighed once the battle was over.
"I know what you mean. Too many eyes, y'know?" Ralof agreed, running out of the dwelling of spiders. For me, it was actually the legs. Nothing was meant to have that many legs, anything that did was an abomination.
"Come on, I don't wanna look at these things any longer," I suggested, taking the path that lead down into a larger part of the system. Ralof stuck close by as we slowly walked inside. Something was sleeping in here, judging my the low breathing that I could hear. It was much too deep to belong to any human or elf.
"Hold up, there's a bear just ahead, see her?" came Ralof's quiet voice. He had gone ahead to check out the noise, and as I caught up with him, making sure to be as quiet as possible, I saw what he was referring to. Laying in the light coming from a lamp nearby, belonging to a dead Imperial, was a cave bear. It was asleep, thankfully, but it was still dangerous. "Let's try and sneak past it, shall we?"
"I don't think either one of us wants to fight a bear," I agreed, getting low to the ground. Slowly we crept past the bear, as quiet as a skeever. Neither of us dared to speak up, fearful of a fight with the beast. We were both exhausted after so many battles, meaning that there was not a single wish for another fight between the two of us.
So, as the bear disappeared from view, blocked by a wall that looked as if it was able to fall apart, I breathed a silent sigh of relief. Hopefully the rest of the day could be a little quieter. Now that I thought about it, I realized how strange of a story this would be to tell my parents when I returned.
Surely they wouldn't believe my tale of a dragon as black as night attacking and burning Helgen to the ground, at least not until the word would spread. Granted, there was a chance that rumors were already being spread by those who had seen it fly in. With any luck, more men would soon be on the way to stop the fires raging thanks to the dragon.
In spite of the circumstances, a smile came upon my face. The idea of terrifying my parents with such a story was a pleasant, even entertaining, idea.
Still grinning from ear to ear, something which Ralof called into question with a raised eyebrow, I exited the cave, glad that I had managed to survive this strange occurrence.
In the back of my mind, I recognized how much this would change my life. Looking back on it now, it was pretty obvious, though I didn't have any idea how much it transform what I considered my fate. This was but the very first step in my life as an adventurer, and what an adventure it would prove to be.