The armored Captain looked over at her subordinate, a perplexed look upon her face. The Ledger simply looked back at her, an eyebrow raised in confusion before returning his stare to the man in front of him, an expectant look upon his face. He was awaiting an answer.
"Krassus" He spoke, lips moving slowly, as if the name was foreign to him, and in some ways it was, a memory brought forth to the front of his mind by some unspoken reason. It felt right to use it, but for some reason, it felt as if he had not used it in years. The thought could wait, for the populace of Helgen was now gazing at him, curiosity alight in their eyes. For him it felt as if he had simply spoken as if in private conversation with someone, but for both the prisoners and the captors, it had seemed as if the very mountains had shifted to speak his name, carrying his voice across the keep. The winds whistled for a few moments, before being broken by the hushed whispers and the scratching of a quill on parchment.
"Captain," the man said after marking down his name, looking back at his commander, whose eyes had steeled themselves as she gazed upon the massive man in front of her," His name is not on the list, what should we do?"
She gazed at Him for a few moments more before electing to respond. "Forget the list, he goes to the Block too." The captain turned away, marching off to the side as the ledger returned his gaze to Him, a frown creasing his lips as he marked yet another note upon the parchment.
"I'm sorry prisoner, but at least you'll die here, in your homeland." The man said, sadness and acceptance filling his voice even as he looked up at Him. He gestured towards the clearing with the rest of the prisoners, who had finished gathering before the wooden block and basket. He moved, arms held before him, His footsteps unnaturally quiet for a man of his size. He filled the empty spot remaining and sized the people across the line up. The first were two of the imperial soldiers, armed in a manner similar to the Book Keeper, with short swords at their sides, they stood on each of the flanks. The next was the Captain, who had condemned him to the line. The remaining three were different, one, a woman of short stature clad in yellow and orange robes, her hood draw above her head, the other was a man clad in black, his wear covered in metal rings and a horned cap that stood up, with only two eye holes and a mouth to expose his beard. He held aloft a massive axe in a single hand, it's blade sharp and gleaming in the harsh daylight, and before him sat a carved block at knee height with a basket in front of it.
The final man was of darker complexion, similar to the captain from before, he had several stress lines crossing his face, and a scar upon his nose. his hair was short cut and hugged his scalp, but had lost its color some time ago and was now a light grey. He wore leather armor, but it's seams were adorned with gold, alongside a massive imprint of a dragon upon his chest. It was of good craft, and was a personal fit too. A small red cloak, held upon his shoulders by gold clasp listed down to his knees and swayed slightly as he broke the line. He crossed the clearing to come before Ulfric, their gazes locked as they sized each other up. He opened his mouth to speak
"Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne." he said, his voice harsh as it cut through the sounds of the clearing, Ulfric merely grunted in response, the gag still placed upon his mouth. Continuing on, he spoke "You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace." His words were spoken with a formality and finality alike, his victory near completion against these Stormcloaks. The light within his eyes was not one of happiness, but of contempt. The tension and silence in wake of the man's statement was broken by a faint sound upon the mountains.
"What was that?" one of the soldiers on the flanks asked, looking about for the source.
"It was nothing, carry on." the leader said, before stepping back and turning to the woman in robes. "Give them their last rites."
The woman simply nodded, before raising her arms, and began to speak. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nim, our beloved..." she began, only to be interrupted by one of the Stormcloaks.
"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with." he said, approaching the block. the priestess mutters in reply "As you wish." as he stops before the block. The captain steps behind him, a hand upon his shoulder as she forces him down to his knees. He speaks again as he bends over and rests his chest upon the block, before looking at the man in black.
"Come on, I haven't got all morning." he begins, contempt and arrogance filling his voice even as the headsman begins to raise his axe, "My Ancestors are smiling down upon me Imperials, can you say the same?" The execution had brought his axe above his head, at a zenith, and with a push brought it falling down upon the Stormcloak's head, shaving it clear off, allowing it to fall within the basket with a slight 'thump'. An insult is thrown out from the spectators beyond the clearing, before being quelled by a single word: Justice. Krassus knew of justice, and did not fully understand the implications upon the lifeless body at the block. What justice was there to kill a man fighting for his own home? The captain pushed the man's corpse away from the block, before looking and pointing at Him.
"Next, the half giant." she called. He slowly began to approach the block, aware that each of the Imperials were now gripping their weapons, as if he was going to suddenly break free and assault them. His heart was in it, but something within his mind told him to approach the block anyway. He strode forth, and turned, gazing down at the block. the captain approached him from behind, and he felt her hand going to the middle of his back, before she began to push.
"I will not kneel to you." He said, even as the woman began to put all of her strength into the push. She relented after a few moments, to find that He had not even shifted. She stepped back before drawing her sword.
"Fine, we'll do it the hard way." she said, before she swung with all of the force she could muster to the back of his knee. For most men it would have sheared the limb right off, but instead it merely sunk to the bone, dropping him to a singular knee, his head still too far away to rest upon the block. He showed no sign of being in pain besides that, no grunting or yelling, it was frankly unnerving to the people gathered around. She removed her sword slowly, a frown of disgust upon her lips. Another roar was heard in the distance, this one much louder however, as if the elements detested His harm. "Swing from here, if the half giant wants to be stubborn then let him die that way." she said, motioning for the Headsman to raise his axe horizontally as she stepped back.
As the executioner began to wind up for the swing, a great black shape appeared from behind the mountain behind them, roaring as it flew down at impossible speeds. "What in Oblivion is that?" the leader yelled, going for his sword. The executioner paid no mind, prepared to fulfill his order and kill Karrasus, and as he finished bringing the weapon back, the black creature landed upon the tower behind him, t's mighty form shaking the ground and sending the man sprawling to the ground. The creature gazed at Him, before letting loose a mighty shout. The world began to shake, and the sky tore open, as meteorites began to launch themselves at the earth itself.
"A Dragon!" someone shouted. Ancient beast that held insurmountable power and control, that once controlled the world before the age of man and were considered creations of the gods. They were thought dead, or at least, gone. Now one had returned, it's black wings spread upon a round tower as it shouted and set alight buildings with great gouts of flame and falling meteorites. It would have been worrisome to any warrior to hear that despite being bound, clothing in only rag pants, and without a weapon, that the massive form of the half giant only known as Karassus, was sizing the terrible creature up.
"Quickly, over here!" He turned around at the shout, rising from his kneeling to gaze upon the warrior from earlier, Ralof. The man stood up, and began jogging towards an opposite tower away from the Imperials, who had drawn bows and had begun to shoot at the Dragon. Krassus paid no attention to the fact that his left leg should not have been able to move in such a way to follow the man at a brisk pace. Ralof opened the door to the tower, ducking inside, before Krassus, who now had to crouch, ducked in behind him. The door slammed shut as a flaming rock landed outside, and the sounds of the dragon taking off and the ambience of the fight was muffled by stone and wood.
Inside, stood 4 more Stormcloaks and their leader, Ulfric. They had found a way to become unbound, and Ulfric was un-gagged as well, looking at Ralof. "Jarl Ulfric, what is that thing? Can the legends be true?" he says, looking back at his leader.
"Legends don't burn down villages."His voice was strong and proud, but there was an undertone of reverence to them, he was not expecting to have his death intervened by a Dragon of all things. He quickly collected himself. "We need to move, now!" Ralof patted His arm, before moving up the steps to the side.
"Come on, up the tower." he said, hugging the walls until they approached the second floor, to find another Stormcloak trying to push aside rubble to the next floor.
"If we can move some of this stone we can-'' he was cut off abruptly as the wall behind him was breached. The dragon's snout appeared and it's maw opened in a split second, engulfing the entire man in flame for five full seconds. It roared again, satisfied with it's kill, before pushing off the side of the tower to circle the air again. Ralof ran up, sticking his head outside the hole, before spying the broken roof across. He gestured back at Krassus, before pointing at the opening at the roof, "Quickly, jump across." He wasted no time, swiftly jumping and bracing himself for the landing. He flew through the roofing, beams alight with flames passing by his skin as he braced to land.
The house, or whatever building it had been, was not prepared for the landing of such a man, and the momentum carried by Krassus caused the man to simply smash through the second floor, and onto the first. He rose up from His heavy landing, and charged forward, the flames sizzling and cracking even as He moved across the room and into the open doorway that led to the outside. The fire chased after Him as if possessed, and He did not turn back to check if Ralof had followed as He tumbled through the doorway.
The outside had changed quite a bit since his minute in the tower. The meteors had ceased falling from the sky, however, the damage was clearly done. Thatch roofs had caved in and support beams had been alight. Stone walls were covered in ash and soot, large patches of blackened stone intersected with a few torched corpses. The dragon swooped in a harsh circle before coming to land before him, and the book keeper who had a sword drawn. A boy was between him and the dragon, terror written across his face.
"Haming, get back!" he yelled, an arm around the boy as he grabbed him and pushed him into cover next to another man. "That a boy, you're doing great." He moved to stay behind them in the cover as the dragon let loose another wave of fire, scorching the road where they had previously stood. He turned, crouched, gazing back at Him and spoke "Still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way." he turned back to the man and the boy. "Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense." the so proclaimed Gunnar put his hand upon the boy's shoulder before speaking, "Gods guide you, Hadvar." That was the name of the book keeper then, it held some he would prove worthy for a mortal.
That was an interesting thought, but where did it come from?
"Follow me prisoner." He was broken from his reprieve by Hadvar, who had started moving towards a pathway ahead now that the dragon had taken off. It was circling overhead, attacking the remaining archers upon the walls. He followed behind, avoiding the scorched spot on the ground, He was barefooted after-all. The buildings across from the road had collapsed and laid rubble across the way. They took a sharp turn instead, moving into a passageway. A short drop down and they were behind a row of the houses, covered on both sides. "Stay close to the wall!" Hadvar yelled, as the dragon came in and gripped the wall. It's wings gripped the wall directly in front of Hadvar and Himself, it's head pointing towards the gates as it released a stream of fire. It took off with a push and they resumed their pace through the alley, and passed into a ruined building.
They broke through the door of the house a moment later, moving forward towards the gates to find the Imperials gathered in a loose huddle, the proclaimed General Tullius shouting orders to his subordinates who were either firing arrows, or, strangely enough flinging fireballs from their palms. He turned to them as they approached. "Hadvar! Into the keep, soldier, we're leaving!" he yelled, pointing towards the keep behind them on the road, which looked relatively untouched. Hadvar, despite obviously wanting to stay and fight, nodded his head, before turning and gesturing towards Him to follow. They sprinted, moving towards the keep under an archway. He personally wanted to stay and fight, despite the lack of weapons or armor, a fire burned in His heart at the sight of the Dragon. It left a sour feeling upon His mind to turn his back upon a foe.
Suddenly, Hadvar had stopped, his sword drawn as he looked across the road to see Ralof, who was armed with a hand axe. "Ralof, you damn traitor!" He yelled "Outta my way!" Ralof locked eyes with the man.
"We're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time." he said in return, gesturing towards the keep.
"Fine." it was interesting to here to no argument in return. "I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovengarde!" There it was, a return insult, it was mean spirited, but the word "Sovengarde" was said with obvious reverence. It must be an important place. The two men broke away from their staring match, before moving towards the different entrances. Hadvar moved towards a pair of doors at the front of a squat building, whereas Ralof moved to the front of an attached tower.
Krassus did not follow at first, for he was at war with himself. His heart told him to follow the Imperial, something familiar resided within that name, and it called to Him in more ways than one. His mind on the other hand, sought to follow the Stormcloak, for the pure fact that they had not tried to cut His head off and list Him for a crime He did not commit. In the end, He aligned His body with his mind, moving toward Ralof. The man had a smile upon his face and opened the door with his free hand.
"I'm glad you made it," he said, before moving into the doorway, "in here, quickly." They travelled inside, the halls had moss growing on them, despite the occupation of the imperial troops. The cobblestone floor was smooth and worn out, years old. They moved from the entrance into a hallway that quickly led into a circular room; the base of the tower. There was a singular table within the room, against the far wall, along with two other entrances, the first being a heavy wooden gate, and the other a thin one out of iron bars. The room however was occupied, by a singular person, their back was towards them and they were resting it seems within a chair. The person wore the blue and brown of the Stormcloaks.
"it is good to see someone else made it here before us." Ralof said in terms of greeting, but the figure did not respond. The keep shook and another roar followed, the dragon outside all too real for either man's liking. they approached the person who was still sitting within the chair. It was strange that the person did not hear Ralof jogging up to them, despite the clanking of his metal and leather boots. As Krassus approached, he realized that the figure was not breathing and a dark puddle had pooled beneath the figure's feet. Ralof approached and grabbed ahold of the figure's shoulder before pushing slightly as if to wake the figure up.
"Are you alri-" he began, only to be cut off as the Stormcloak abruptly fell out of the seat, his body twisting upwards to reveal the worst to both men. Someone had slit his throat.