After my families ship sank, and I was washed ashore, life was challenging for me. For the first time in my life, I was alone, truly alone. I had nothing but the tattered clothes I was wearing, and without some sort of assistance, I was not going to survive much longer. I suspected I was somewhere near the coast of Haafingar, but since I could not see any signs of mountains, I was probably closer to Dawnstar than Solitude. Putting one foot in front of the next, fighting the wind and the snow, was all I could do. I was not of a mind to pay attention to the details of yet another ice block, or another lichen covered boulder. Let it suffice to say, that those days were cold, and if it were not for my descent into the ways of animals, I would not have survived. Ice wolves are survivors, and if it were not for scavenging their kills, and learning to fight them for the meat, I would not have lived. Little was I to know, that months later, my experiences of living as a beast would come back to haunt me.

First a small farmhouse, then a trip with a farmer to a larger village, and little by little, I made my way south. My goal was Anvil, and her lively harbor. Outside of the ship I had called home, the warm waters of Anvil were the most welcoming destination for me. I did not pay attention to the names of the hamlets and farms I passed. Navigating by land was difficult for me. Mountains halted direct travel, and I found myself traveling east to head south, or even being forced northwards, in my effort to reach Cyrodil. Sailing is so much easier. Find your star, and follow it until you reach port.

I was not even certain where I was, when I was stopped by a patrol of Legionaries. I was pleased to see them since bandits usually meant a fight, and an argument over who was going to bleed the most. I was caught by surprise by their actions, and hardly had time to react, when they grabbed me, and I was thrown to the ground. I had done nothing wrong, had not spoken against them or given them any cause for alarm. Naturally I resisted, and I put up as good a fight as a half-starved, unarmed man can do against a patrol of armored soldiers, but it was not looking good. Fortunately, the captain gave orders that everyone was to be captured alive, and put in the wagons. If it were not for her orders, I am certain they would have killed me on the spot, so it was no surprise that I took a hard blow to the back of my head. I awoke some hours later, bound and with a sore head. I was in a wagon, with a three other men, part of a line of wagons headed into the mountains. It seems I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The Legion had set a trap and I was caught in the net.

As the wagons neared a small walled town, Ralof, one of the other prisoners, told me about our destination, and about the other passengers. All were members of the Stormcloak rebellion, including the leader, Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak. There was also horse-thief who was caught in the trap like me. We were not part of the rebels, but the Imperials didn't care. They were taking all of us. Ralof hoped we were headed to the Imperial City, but it seemed General Tullius had other plans. Helgen and her chopping block were to be our final destination. It seemed cruel, that I could survive the wreck of my ship, cross most of Skryim by myself, and be so close to Cyrodil, and the last thing I would see would be my executioner's face in a small Nord village.

Our names were called out, and one by one, the prisoners stepped forward, and moved into position. The horse-thief from Rorikstad tried to escape, but Imperial archers are very skilled, and he didn't make it twenty feet. For a moment, I hoped that if I was not on the list, that I would be freed, but they did not appreciate my humor at calling myself Dragonborn, and the captain ordered me to join the others. A Nord would have laughed with me, cut me lose, and we could have shared a mead, but the Imperial Captain ordered me to the block anyway.

I walked calmly to my spot and waited through the speeches. What else could I do, but await the judgement of the Divines. My head still ached, my hands were bound, and the Imperial archers waited with drawn bows. There was a brief interruption from some beast making a noise, but it was quickly ignored. After the General had his word, the Priest of Arkay spoke up with last Rites. As little as I knew of the politics of Skyrim, I knew the Priest made an mistake when he called upon the -Eight- Divines. Nords are very devoted to Talos, and the Stormcloaks were even more so, and a Stormcloak took it upon himself to skip the blessings. If the blessing did not include Talos, he would have none of it. He marched forward and was the first to feel the fall of the axe. I truly believed he was relieved to die. He knew was going to Sovengarde. As his head rolled into the basket, I wondered where I was going. The Captain called for me to approach the block, and it seemed I was going to find out, far sooner that I wanted.

As my head was turned on the stone of the executioners block, that beast sound we heard earlier was repeated. Louder this time, and very near. As I gazed up into the mountains, I saw the beast himself. A dragon, and it was alive. This was no fevered dream, no mead-inspired tale. This beast was real. Could Arkay himself have come to save me? But no, this was not any divine I knew of. As the beast landed on the tower, he started destroying the town with fiery blasts. His roar almost sounded as if it was words, but no words I had ever known. Fire and stone fell from the sky, and the towers of the Imperials stared to collapse. As I struggled to my feet, and was guided to safety by Ralof, somehow I knew that dragon. I could feel the power of his words within me, calling out to me, almost as if he was taunting me. I was powerless to stop him, and he wanted to make certain that I knew that. All of Helgen was to be destroyed, so I would know his power and fear him.

It made no sense, but I knew he wanted me to survive. The Stormcloak prisoners had escaped their guards, and we found a way into a tower. There was no way out, except for us to jump from the roof. As we headed up the stairs, that dragon broke into the tower, blocking the stairs, and opening a gap with a much safer jump into the inn. I was so close to his breath, my hair was singed, and a moment longer he could have killed me, but he didn't. I leapt into the inn, and headed down, looking for a way out. An Imperial was busy trying to save the townsfolk, but another one barred my escape, until the dragon landed on the ground and crushed him. I heard the voice of the Imperial tell me to stay close, but I saw a gap between buildings, and ran for it. All I needed was to get past the wall, and the gate leading out of the city was right in front of me. An archer stood before me, but the Dragon landed on the very wall I was leaning against and the guard was no longer a problem. The gate was blocked, so I turned and headed for the other gate. Every move I made, an Imperial stood between me and freedom, and each time, the dragon destroyed them, opening a new route.

The arrows of the Imperials were doing nothing to him, and their wizards were totally out matched. The dragon was truly a might beast, fearsome and devastating, but yet, he was not a beast. He had foresight, he had plans, and he inspired respect for his strength. I headed for a tower gate, that should have a basemant, and a way out of the town. Just as every ship has a hold, every tower has a sewer, and I knew those sewers were my only way past the last of the Imperials. As I entered the tower door, I gave one last look at him, wings spread, hovering in the air above the towns' walls, shouting out his defiance to the mere mortals who defied him.

We would meet again.

A Nord Barrow

After escaping Helgen, and spending the night with Ralof and his sister, I headed to the general store to check up on supplies. Gerdur had given me some food, but someone had to get to Whiterun to warn them about the dragon. A bag full of food wasn't going to help me very much, and Ralof was still suffering from his wounds, so it fell to me to carry the report. I didn't have much that was useful, except for some odds and ends I picked up on the way out of Helgen.

As I entered the Riverwood Trader, I saw a man and woman arguing about a break-in. It turned out to be Lucan and his sister, Camilla Valerius. There was something odd about the fact that Lucan wasn't interested in going after some thieves. If something of great value had been taken, why didn't he go after it himself? He finally noticed me, and the argument stopped, so I shrug my shoulders apologetically and asked him what was going on. He told me the store was fine, lots of good left, but the thieves had run off with an heirloom, a golden claw. Camilla was eager to show me where the thieves had headed. I didn't ask how they know where the thieves were, or where Lucan had gotten the claw in the first place. Later Camilla mentioned he had 'found' it, but never explained anything more.

I wasn't feeling too well after being nearly beheaded, and chased by a dragon a day earlier but going after a few bumbling bandits, didn't seem like it would be that hard. Besides, I felt I needed a chance to get back into fighting shape, and see if I could still make a difference in a real fight. I had every intention of facing that dragon again, and I knew I needed to prepare well. So I told Lucan I would go after his claw before I headed to Whiterun. Then it was on to business. I wasn't interested in buying anything, so Lucan and I argued good-naturedly over the price of some slightly used armor, and barely dented weapons that were weighing me down.

As I walked up the trail that Camilla had so kindly pointed out, I pondered a few things. Lucan had 'found' the claw, and it was important enough that another bandit had stolen it from him. Considering that nothing else was taken, that claw must be very important for some reason, an expensive reason. After clearing out three bandits from a tower and continuing on, I began to wonder just how smart Lucan was. He had a store, modest profits from traders passing by, and lived in a fairly safe area, with Whiterun, just a few hours away. Seemed like the perfect place for a retired thief. Except that old 'friends' had caught up to him, and had gathered a large gang to use the claw. Three more bandits fell easily under my sword, as I climb the steps to Bleak Fall Barrows. Too spread out, and they couldn't support each other. Not very bright. If Lucan had been a thief, he was ceratinly the smartest one in this gang.

Once inside the Barrow, my opinion of these thieves didn't improve. Two bandits had died to skeever attacks, and there were two living bandits, but they were complaining about someone named Arvel who had gone on ahead and they seemed afraid. More skeevers I guess. I was going to ask them about Arvel and just go on my way, but they would have none of that. I was a little more trouble than skeevers for them, and soon enough their spirits joined their comrades. As I progressed further into the Barrow, I came across a couple more dead skeevers, then up ahead, I spotted the great Skeever-killer, just as he pulled a lever. It was a bad move for him, and that was the end of Skeever-killer. I hoped he was the one with the claw, but he wasn't. Likely he was just another two-septim guard hired by Arvel.

It wasn't really hard to figure out how to open the gate without getting killed, so I continued on. Eventually the corridor started to show spider webs, which become larger and stronger. I heard a voice echoing through the halls, speaking names I didn't know, and I guessed that master-thief Arvel was in trouble, and -now- he wanted his fighters around him. As I broke through a wall of webs I could see why he was screaming for help. A very large, very bloated frost spider. She would have been a fierce enemy, but she was crippled, and too large to get out of the door ways. She had grown fat on the prey that had fallen into her trap from above, or wandered in from the barrow entrance. I just stood in the safety of the archway and attacked with sword and cast an occasional fireball. It took a bit, but she did finally stop twitching. As I cut Arvel loose, he muttered that he had the claw and knew the secret to a great Nord treasure. But as soon as he was freed, he sprinted off into the crypts.

Passing through the crypts, I had to defend myself from some of the dead, that were not really dead. I had heard of Drauger, and these warriors still showed their skill from ages past, with one nasty weakness. At one point, I accidentally hit an oil lantern which had dripped oil onto the floor, and the explosion and fire had killed three of the Drauger. Definitely something to remember for the future. Arvel had not faired well, falling victim to an obvious trap, and then getting surround by three of the Drauger. After I finished the fight, I did find the claw on him. I had been thinking it was an Eagles claw, a single talon, but this was something else. More like a whole paw or foot, with three toes. There was an odd pattern on the palm, but I couldn't quite make it out. The light was poor enough I couldn't read the journal I found on him either. They would have to wait until I got back outside.

I turned to go back up the stairs, when I heard the singing. I stopped and looked back down the corridor, and I swear, I could almost make out words. It sounded like the words spoken by the dragon from Helgen, but somehow clearer and more human. I followed the faint echoes of the song, and ventured further into the barrows. I don't know how many more crypts I passed through, or how many Drauger I faced, before I came into the hall. Both sides were carved in deep relief with some sort of images. They were worn and covered by grime, and I could barely make out the images of men and something not human. At the end of the hall was a great round gate, and I knew this was what the Golden Claw was meant to open. A moment to read Arvel's journal, and ponder the puzzle, then I bent to move the rings, the sound of grating stone echoing throughout. Whatever was on the other side was surely going to hear me coming.

As the gate opened, I put the claw back in my pack and readied my sword. Far ahead, I could see sunlight, and what looked like a dais with a sarcophagus on it. The words of the song were stronger, the closer I came to the dais. "Here lies The Guardian" and "rage and darkness" kept running through my mind. I stepped passed the coffin, getting closer to the odd engravings on the tall, dark wall at the back of the chamber. "Here lies The Guardian ... a force of eternal rage and darkness" came to me, louder and louder. I fell to my knees, my sight dimming to darkness. Everything went dark, except one set of marks, glowing blue, flickering streamers reaching out to me. They washed over me, then delved deep into me, to my very soul, marking me forever. As my sight returned, the full words of the song came to me, but my memory could not hold them.

The sound of the sarcophagus opening up drew my attention, as my head began to clear. I stood up, and faced the largest Drauger I had ever seen. "Het Nok Faal" I heard from the song, as I raised my sword in defense. "... the Guardian Keeper ..." rang in my ears as I fought that ancient Nord warrior. The strange song faded out, and "Vulom" was the last word I heard, as the Drauger fell to my blade, his long years of guardianship now over. I took the stone clasped by the corpse, and stuffed it in my pack without even looking at it. There were a few things in a nearby chest, that would provide a decent living for a man with no job. I suppose Arvel and the dead bandits would have been thrilled to find that chest, but I knew, it was the Wall that was the true treasure.

On the long walk back to Riverwood, to return the Claw to Riverwood Traders, I knew this was only the beginning. How many more of the ancient dead waited? How many more of them would awake with the return of a dragon. The stone I had found, was marked with more of the same symbols that were on the wall, but I could not read them. Perhaps someone in Winterhold would understand them. I resolved to head that way, after a trip to warn the Jarl in Whiterun.