» Mon Jul 30, 2012 5:47 pm The cart’s wheels creak. It was the first thing he had noticed really. At first it seemed trivial, compared to the situation he was in. Now it was at the front of his thoughts, and he sat grinding his teeth, consumed with his frustration with the legions squeaky cart wheels.
At least it would be over soon, he had heard the cart driver say that Helgen was insight. He shared his unpleasant cart ride with three nords. One of them was a horse thief, a crime that was treated with death in Skyrim apparently, not that Aldinor could see any reason why anyone would want to ride one of the smelly beasts, let alone steal one.
The second appeared to be apart of the local rebellion, he was telling the horse thief to accept his fate, and die with honor. Sovengarde awaited and all that, not that Aldinor believed in the nord afterlife, or really any life beyond the mundus. He silently hoped that the nords would continue to leave him alone, they hadn’t said anything to him since he was rudely forced on the cart, and he didn’t feel the need to console them in their final moments.
The last passenger in the cart was different. He wore a fur trimmed cloak, with battered mail underneath it. It spoke of royalty, or wealth. He was someone important, he believed one of them named him Ulfric, the leader of their rebellion. He was bound at his hands, like the rest of them, but he was also gagged, which seemed strange. Maybe the imperials were afraid he incite a riot as they passed through a town.
Aldinor looked up at the town they were entering, actually it was more of a fort. Imperial design from what he could tell, with high wooden walls. A small number of civilians gawked at the carts slow procession through the town. He slumped lower on the bench he was sitting on, he didn’t like the idea of being the butt end of a bunch of backward nord’s joke.
The cart neared a open space between two towers, and came to a stop. Everyone was getting off of the cart, it shifted with their weight as they came to the back of it and hopped off. He stood and followed them off of it.
He landed somewhat gracefully, or with as much grace as you can manage with your hand bound, and your legs stiff and numb. He stretched as best he could, and was glad to feel the pins and needles in his legs go away.
A nord in front of him held a list, and was taking note of the prisoners that had been brought to face imperial justice.
“Jarl Ulfric of Windhelm” The regal looking nord stepped forward into place.
“Ralof of Riverwood” The talkative nord from the cart stepped forward and stood near his leader.
“It has been an honor to serve you Jarl Ulfric” Ralof said. The look in his face showed pride as he drew himself up.
The legion nord approached the horse thief, and recorded him as Lokir of Rorickstead. Lokir responded by bolting, hands still tied. He didn’t make it very far before an imperial archer’s arrow hit him in his back.
Aldinor turned back to the legionnaire with the scroll. The legionnaire asked for his name. “Aldinor” he said hoarsely, “of Alinor”.
“Not with the Thalmor embassy are you?” the nord asked, he then responded to his own question “No can’t be, but your not on the list.” He looked to his captain, a clovian in heavier armor and asked “What should we do with him?”
“Forget the list, he goes to the block” she said without ever really looking at him.
Aldinor was shocked, he wasn’t really sure what he expected, but it sure wasn’t a headsman ax in backwoods skyrim. He went slightly numb after that, and events all sort of slid together.
Ralof didn’t experience any sort of mental numbness. His bindings had been loosened over the carriage ride, now it was just keeping up the act that he was still bound. He was just waiting for the right moment to attack.
The imperial general took the opportunity to mock his jarl, insisting that Ulfric had murdered the imperial puppet king with the voice. HA! Everyone knew that Torygg agreed to the fight fair and square.
Ralof took the opportunity to scan the area, it was actually lightly defended, the imperials thinking they had already won. In the immediate area the storm cloaks outnumbered the imperials, if they could surprise them maybe they could flee for the mountains. If only they could remove Jarl Ulfric’s gag.
A shrill cry broke through his thoughts of escape, and brought his attention to the sky. Everyone was looking around for a moment.
The imperial captain brought them all back down to nirn as she told the priest of Arkay to give them their last rites.
The priest nodded and began a rehearsed sermon that involved the imperial afterlife of Atherius. He cursed as Ingar stepped forward telling the priest to just get on with it.
The imperial captain said “As you wish,” and then she pushed him down onto the block.
“Come on, I haven’t got all morning,” Ignar snarled as he was forced down, “I know my ancestors are smiling at me Imperial, can you say the same?”
SMACK! The headman’s ax answered for the captain. Ralof watched as Ignar’s head landed in the basket with a wet thump. Ralof’s teeth grinded together in anger.
The townspeople shouts were mixed, he was glad to see that the storm cloaks had some supporters. Ralof also felt the need to comment, “Ignar was as fearless in death as he was in life”
The captain scanned the remaining prisoners “Next the high elf.” The elf looked blankly at her for a moment before walking up to the block. Ralof gave the goldenrod some credit, he faced death with honor.
“Next the high elf.” She’s pointing at me Aldinor thought dully. He felt his feet shuffle forward, to the block where the headless rebel lay, still shooting a jet of blood out, although the jets were becoming less with each time he noticed. The executioner kicked the body away, it limply rolled enough out of the way for him to have room to kneel. How courteous, a mad voice gibbered inside his head.
A shrill cry sounded again, this time closer. The nord with the scroll asked if anyone else was hearing the sound. The captain ignored it told Aldinor to kneel. He did as he was asked, he even put his head neatly onto the block. He hoped the executioner cut him clean, he didn’t really want to be flopping around painfully waiting for a second TWAK of the ax.
Then he saw it. The origin of the shrill cries from the mountain. Something massive, scaly and flying with great wings was coming toward the fort town. It flew in fast with each beat of its massive wings. Closer however was the headsman raising his ax, ready to come down with a lethal strike.
The great winged beast landed on one of the towers with enough force to knock the executioner down when he was unbalanced with the ax high above him. Aldinor rose up onto his knees and stared at the monster, it appeared to be looking right at him.
It shrieked, and the sky ripped open. Rocks and fire rained down onto the town. Aldinor jumped to his feet. The dragon cocked its head and shrieked again, this time it roar came out like a wave and knocked him backwards. He rolled twice before coming to a stop, disorientated and dizzy.
“Hey elf, Get up! The gods won’t give us another chance!” Aldinor looked up to see the nord from the cart ride standing a few yards from him. He rose up and followed the nord into the tower up the road slightly. He turned around to look for the dragon, and saw it flying to the other side of the village. The nord from the cart grabbed him by the arm and jerked him inside the tower. They slammed the door shut behind him.
“Jarl Ulfric, what was that thing? Could the legends be true?” The nord asked excitedly.
“Legend don’t burn down villages” Ulfric replied. Aldinor noticed his gag was gone. They all heard the dragon shriek again and collectively winced. “We need to move NOW!”
“We need to get up this tower, come on” He ran up the steps quick as he could. Aldinor followed as quick as he could. When they neared the top they saw the way was blocked with rubble, two of the rebel solders were working at clearing it.
Aldinor and Ralof moved to help them when the wall exploded in front of them. They saw the dragon’s massive head snake through the new entrance and it spewed a blast of fire at the nords working to clear the way. It then retreated back, and flew off. Ralof looked out of the hole the dragon had made.
“See the inn on the other side? Jump through and try to land over there, hurry we’ll follow when we can.”
Aldinor could think of several reasons to object to this plan, but couldn’t think of anything better. “Auri-el watch over me!” He turned and leapt out the hole and landed in the inn below. Once inside he lept down into the first floor and walked through a burned wall into a small band of legionaries evacuating the town.
One of them was the nord with the scroll from before. He noticed Aldinor and said “your still alive prisoner?” he looked behind him and pursed his lips “Alright prisoner, stay with me and we’ll make it through this, we’re heading toward the fort, come on this way” he motioned behind him and took off.
Aldinor followed closely, He saw a great shadow momentarily block out the sun. as they went through an alleyway. The nord grabbed him and pushed him against the wall as the dragon landed above them. It seemed not to notice them as it incinerated a legion soldier who had ineffectively shot at it with a bow. The dragon took off with a gust of wind harsh enough to push Aldinor to his knees. The nord helped him back up and they took off through another burning building.
“We’re almost there!” the nord shouted as they neared the fort proper. Behind them mages and archers were trying hopelessly to bring the beast down. As the two of them made it to the door of the fort the rebel Ralof came around a hole in the wall of the town.
“RALOF YOU DAMN TRATIOR, OUT OF MY WAY” the legionnaire shouted, his sword unsheathed.
“We’re escaping Hadvar, you’re not stopping us this time,”
“Fine, I hope that dragon drags you all to Sovengarde” he turned to look at Aldinor, “with me prisoner, into the keep.” Aldinor followed him, as Ralof ran off behind them.
Once inside Hadvar cut off his bindings, and asked him if they had really just escaped a dragon. “Harbingers of the end times” as he put it.
“I don’t know,” Aldinor said truthfully “I haven’t heard of a dragon being around since before the third empire.”
Hadvar grunted and looked around the room, “there is a spare suit of armor on over there, it might fit you,” he said doubtfully “and over there on the weapon rack is a sword”
Aldinor looked at the armor, it was made for a man much thicker and shorter than the spindly altmer, he shook his head and told Hadvar he didn’t think it would fit. And he didn’t even bother with the sword, “I wouldn’t know how to use one to save my life, I’d be much better off casting spells”
“Ah a mage,” Hadvar said, ”Probably be useful” The door that led deeper into the fort was opened with crank that turned the lock from their side, through the door was a hallway. At the end of the hallway was a group of angry storm cloak soldiers.
They took one look at Hadvar and Aldinor and raised their axes for battle. Aldinor raised his hands and let out a jet of fire toward the closer one. He ran forward but collapsed at Aldinor’s feet. He turned his attention to the other one to see that Hadvar had already snuck up behind him and run him through with his imperial sword. Hadvar nodded and headed toward the gate opposite the way they had come in.
It led down, and opened up into a large room with a door about a quarter the way through it. They started forward and were immediately stopped as the room caved in. The rubble blocked their way forward so they went into the side door, a few more storm cloaks were rifling through the barrels, it must have been a store room, and they failed to notice Aldinor or Hadvar.
The one looking into the barrel was engulfed in flames as the one looking guard in the wrong direction took an arrow to his neck. Hadvar took a moment to grab some potions laying around on the tables, and he grabbed the bag the non scorched storm cloak was carrying. he passed the bag to Aldinor.
“We may need these” he told him “I think a few of them were for restoring magicka” Aldinor checked and he saw that one of them was, while the rest were health restoratives.
They left the store room and turned down the hallway, it went down a flight of stairs before it opened up to a room that smelled like burned hair and piss. “Gods, the torture room, I wish we didn’t need these.” Hadvar said quietly.
Inside the room a fight was going on between some rebels and the torturers. The torturers were wearing legion armor so Hadvar and Aldinor came to their rescue. They quickly dispatched the rebels with gouts of lightning and fire, and a few well placed arrows.
“You boys happened along just in time,” the old man said from under his hood as the fight ended. “They seemed a little upset at how I’d been treating some of their friends” he said kicking one of the rebels with his boot.
“Don’t you even know what’s going on up there?” Hadvar asked him, “There is a dragon attacking Helgen!”
“A dragon? Please, don’t make up nonsense” he sneered, “Although I did hear some strange noises coming from up there,” he took a moment to admire the ceiling.
“Come with us, we need to get out of here”
“You have no authority over me, boy”
“Didn’t you hear me? I said the keep is under attack!” he said baffled at the old man’s stubbornness.
“Forget the old man, I’m coming with you,” said the assistant.
“Sure take all my things” the old man said dismissively walking away from them. Aldinor looked up from the knapsack he had been looting around in, and when he noticed the old man wasn’t talking to him he shoved its contents into his robe pocket.
They left the old man behind and went further underground. A wall had collapsed during the dragon’s assault and it appeared to open up into a cave system. The caves them selves were empty of solders, the only opponents they met were the occasional spider. The old man’s assistant decided to turn back before they got to far in to try and convince the old man to leave.
“Better off without him eh” Hadvar had said. After what seemed like hours they finally managed to find an exit that was guarded by a bear. They opted to quietly sneak around it rather than try to fight it off. Neither one of them had ever been so happy to see sunlight as they stepped outside.
“Wait!” Hadvar whispered, above them a giant shadow darkened the sky and quickly disappeared. They looked up to see the dragon flying off to the north. “All right I think its gone now” he said sounding relieved.
“Closest town from here is Riverwood, my uncle is the blacksmith there” Hadvar said, “I’m sure he’d help you out.”
The trip down to Riverwood was calm all things considered. Hadvar pointed out the local landmarks, which seemed to include a tomb of some kind in the mountains off in the distance, guarded by something called Drauger, and farther down the path they saw three small monuments, Hadvar said they were a set of three guardian stones. When asked what sign he was born under Aldinor walked to the mage stone and laid his hand on it. He jumped back as it shot light up into the sky.
“The mage eh? Not for me to judge I guess” Aldinor gave him a look and headed back down the path to Riverwood. Along the way they encountered a pack of wolves that they made short work of. Aldinor noticed the local flora had alchemic properties and picked some of the plants leaves and seeds as they went along, storing them in separate pouches of his looted travel bag.
Once they reached the actual town Hadvar guided him toward the smithy where his uncle Alvor worked.
“Hey uncle!” he called
The big man at the forge looked up and waved them over. He took a look at them and proclaimed “Shor’s bones” (Aldinor winced a little at the devils name, but it wasn’t noticed) What happened to you two? Look like you took on a cave bear.” He noticed their singed clothing and smoky smell and added “one who could breath fire by the look of it,”
“It was a dragon Uncle” Hadvar answered, he then pointed at Aldinor “I probably wouldn’t have made it out without my new friend here.”
Alvor looked him over again and offered his hand “M’name is Alvor, I’m the smith in Riverwood.”
Aldinor looked at it a moment before raising his own, it was a strange greeting to him. “My name is Aldinor,” he said
The smith’s hand engulfed the smaller mer’s hand and it was shaken vigorously. “Come inside the both of ya, Sidgrid is just about done with dinner, we’ll discuss this inside.”
With Alvor leading the way they went inside his home. True enough Sigrid stood in front of a cauldron stirring some kind of stew, the smell of it reminded Aldinor that he hadn’t eaten in over a day.
Sigrid asked the same questions that Alvor had as she spooned out stew into bowls. Now that they were sitting down Hadvar told the tale of the dragon attack on Helgen, leaving out the part about Aldinor’s head being destined for the chopping block. Aldinor ate mostly in silence, occasionally adding in a detail he felt was important.
At the end of the tale Alvor looked Aldinor over “If Helgen was taken, word must be sent to the jarl” he said. “Can I ask you to deliver the message, Riverwood will need aid if a dragon comes to attack. I don’t have much, but I can offer you a decent blade and a few healing potions I have lying around.”
“I can deliver your message,” Aldinor said, he felt grateful for Hadvar helping him escape, and for the hospitality that Alvor and Sigrid had offered.
It was decided that he would set off in the morning toward Whiterun.
