19th of Last Seed, 4E 201:
This morning was beautiful in a way that I could never dream of or imagine. Witnessing the fog settle upon the river, the dew dribbling from the grass, it was mesmerizing. I took my time with everything: eating, packing up, all the while being engrossed within the landscape. It was a peace I had yet to feel from Skyrim, tumultuous as it is. I knew that peace wouldn't last long though.
Every step I took toward Helgen, that peace was chipped away by a growing dread within me. I could not tell what it was for the life of me. The sky was a crystal clear blue, the trees stood steadfast unaffected by any wind, the creatures were deathly silent and still. Not a single wolf or skeever attempted to cross my path unlike the previous days. Now that I write, maybe that is what it was? The perfection and stillness of it all, as if something had to swoop in and take it all away.
Before I knew it, I was standing before the Helgen gates. The small town was much more fortified than Riverwood, there was a stone wall surrounding it alongside many watchtowers. I stopped a villager and inquired about the defensives and they told me it was because Helgen acted as a checkpoint between Skyrim and Cyrodil, and with the ongoing war, the Imperials had to be as careful as ever. The walls and towers became more constricting after hearing of this, as if they were sucking the life out of Helgen and its people. Although it was quite early in the day, I decided to let myself rest for the remainder. The lonely tavern I chose was perfect for so much needed relaxation, I remained in my room and decided to read the old tomes my mother gave me before I left.
The two I picked erupted with dust as I opened them, with even more spilling out as I flipped the pages. I realized these had not been touched in ages and was surprised at the state of them. Outside of the dust and mildew, the words had not faded, the pages not wrinkled or ripped, in fact, it looked to have been written only yesterday. They detailed techniques on casting certain spells: one on how to produce flames themselves from just your palms, the other on how to mend your wounds with frankly mystical restorative powers. I had seen mother use certain types of magic before, but nothing that was on the scale of what was held within these books. I studied these books closely, attempting to perform the hand signs and summoning the willpower necessary to perform such feats. After several hours, I was able to produce small flames and a restorative light within my palms. The sensation of magicka coursing through your body is incredibly difficult to put into words. Your entire body becomes numb, the feeling of pins and needles persists in all limbs, except the arm in which the magic flows. That arm could not feel more alive with sensation; pain is not the correct word, sensitive is more akin to the feeling. I assume that the more adept the mage, the less this feeling persists, but it is ever present in what I cast. I fell asleep not shortly after studying, channeling the magicka required for spells is quite exhausting and I sleep came rather easily. However, I was awakened only two hours after, it seemed it was not meant to be a restful night for anyone inHelgen.
I heard chatter coming from the main hall of the Inn, a child, mentioning an Imperial convoy that had just arrived, then, it seems they all left to watch it arrive into town. Sleep was not coming and I found myself curious of what could be brought in so I donned the Jarls steel armor and stepped out into the night. It was quite difficult to make anything out, the calm, clear day had been replaced by black night that was buffeted by a large thunderstorm. Lightning would strike occasionally, illuminating the approaching carts, as well as their cargo. They all held prisoners, rebels of the Stormcloak Army that opposed the Imperials rule. With them was their leader, Ulfirc Stormclaok himself. The carts slowly pulled into the center of town as they became illuminated by the torches of the watchtower. A feeble man quickly laid out a block within the center before scurrying off while his superior barked orders at him. As the prisoners began descending from their cats, I began to understand what I was witnessing. This was an execution, a bastardization of justice the imperials had felt was necessary for the rebels. Everyone had taken their locations: prisoners on one side, the imperials on the other alongside a priest and a man clad in black. The priest began spouting out rites before one of the Stormcloaks stepped up, telling them to get on with it, and took their place on the chopping block. The Imperials were all too happy to oblige as the axe came down upon the man's neck, severing his head from his body. I had to look away before it happened but as I turned back, lightning flashed and the limp head was all too visible upon the ground. I admit, it was a horrid sight to see, I had only little time to absorb it all before a thunderous quake echoed across the sky and ground. A giant mass of darkness blotted out the moon and, as if plucked from a storybook itself, a…dragon perched itself upon the watchtower. It…did something similar to shouting, but it was much more powerful, violently shaking everything around. In the next instant, I found myself thrust upon the ground as fire rained across the sky, lighting up the dreary sky. The rest was a haze, all I heard was screaming and crashing as buildings toppled upon the ground.
I awoke not a few moments later, one of the stormcloaks shaking me awake and rushing me into a nearby watchtower. Many others were already inside, catching their breaths, including Ulfric Stormcloak himself. The man was a lot more imposing up close, even under the layer of clothing I could see his musculature flex and move as he talked to the man who awoke me. The man's name was Ralof, a Nord from Riverwood; he stood and listened to Ulfric patiently as he told us the quickest way out would most likely be to jump from the top of the tower onto the thatch roofs that lay below. I was halfway to the staircase before Ralof protested, laying his loyalty for Ulfirc on the line. He was quick to call him a fool and urge him to leave, assuring him he would find his way back to Windhelm and take his rightful spot on the throne. After a few more seconds of debating from Ralof, we flew up the stairs with haste, only to be stopped dead in our tracks by the dragon. It thrust its massive jaw through the stone wall like a fist through wet parchment, no effort being exerted by the great beast. I stared into its fiery eyes, seeing my doom spelled upon them before arrows flew from the ground below upon its back.. It pushed itself off of the tower, shaking it to its foundation, and flew shortly away. While we had faced certain death, Ralof and I also had a new way down. We hurriedly jumped onto the roof and the thatch collapsed under our combined weight. No time was wasted as we ran through the half-destroyed house and found our way to the street. The dragon had landed not far from us which shrouded our arrival in dirt, we looked and felt around for an exit before a great heat began emitting from behind us. We barely had enough time to move before a plume of fire pierced the dirt cloud and surrounded us in flames. Ralof grabbed me and ducked to the side; we hugged the stone wall as fire spewed from the beast's great maw. Once again, we accepted our demise before it flew away once more, and we did not waste this chance. We ran towards the fortress set within the town before an Imperial soldier that was present at the execution approached Ralof. The two argued for a short amount of time before the imperial turned to me, attempting to convince me to follow him. After what I saw at the execution site, I…I couldn't bring myself to do it, I wished him luck and went with Ralof, I pray the divines were kind to his soul.
The fortress stood strong against the dragon's onslaught for a short time, before partly collapsing as we fled further in. Some Imperials tried to stop us but Ralof and I…we dispatched them. It hurt greatly to do so, but part of me felt it was due justice for the sickening show that I saw earlier. Still, these moments flew by in a dizzying haze that before I was even aware, we were ourselves outside of the town, hiding from the massive dark silhouette in the sky, hoping it would not end us right there. As it grew to nothing but a tiny dot against the horizon, Ralof and I stood, the adrenaline and fear finally leaving our bodies. The lack of sleep and food caught up with me, my body and head ached where I had landed earlier, and thousands of thoughts were rushing through my mind. I listened absently as Ralof spoke about his sister in Riverwood and how we should go speak to her and hopefully get some lodging for the night. I believe I nodded but it's nothing but a blur to me now, a smear across a white canvas. The walk was uneventful from what I can make out, Ralof talked about some of the nearby landmarks and of Riverwood itself. He was extremely calm about what had happened, I suppose the Civil War had hardened him. I do not know if he could tell I was a wreck but about halfway there, we both went quiet, the only sounds being our footsteps and the crackling of the torches. After what seemed an eternity, Riverwood's walled entrance appeared in the distance. As we passed under it, I thought back to the first time I did so, when I thought it was a good defense for such a small town. Now it looks nothing more than a pile of loose stone, waiting to be scattered by the dragon.
I sat down on a stump by the river bank as Ralof talked to his sister, Gerdur. She and her husband run the nearby mill and offered us shelter for the night. We both gladly accepted and they led us to their humble house at the edge of town. We all had a modest, silent feast, the fear palpably clinging to the air. Before we went to sleep, Gerdur asked me to seek out Jarl Bulgruuf in Whiterun and tell him of what happened to Helgen. Ralof was going back to Windhelm for the stormcloaks and wouldn't be able to. I accepted, and then collapsed into the nearby bed. I could feel sleep overtaking me but the thoughts would not stop, I had to write before succumbing to slumber. I fear what tomorrow will bring, I fear for the people of Skyrim, I even fear for my parents in Cyrodil. If a dragon can appear here, who's to say they haven't cropped up everywhere else?