"Tails" of Skyrim
Followings of adventures of the Argonian, Dareen-Ves, and his adventures and travels through Skyrim.
When I came to, I found myself with my hands tied, on a cart puuled by horse along with several men. Two nords, one with his mouth covered so he could not speak, and a breton, apparently a thief who got caught by sheer chance in the ambush that found me in the predicament I was in. If this was typical Skyrim custom to welcome outsiders, then I could tell I was in for trouble. Sadly, I was right, as what came soon after no one could've foreseen. I looked around to see where I was. The snow capped trees and cobblestones that the prisoner wagons travelled upon made me realize just how far from home I truly was. That would be the last time I tried to cross the border without letting someone on the other side know first.
The wagon was being escorted by several Imperial soldiers astride their horses, all armed and on the look out for trouble, taking us all somewhere. I was addressed by one of the nord captives, who was revealed to be a member of a group called the "Stormcloaks", who seemed to be led by the gagged prisoner to my right, Ulfric Stormcloak, who the prisoner to the front of me claimed was the "true high king of Skyrim". That, it seems, was left to be seen. Upon arriving at our destination, a small walled village called Helgen, I spotted the Imperial Legion's General Tullius and several Thalmor, a strange sight to say the very least. Why they were all there together was beyond any reasoning I could think of.
At the moment a guard mentioned a headsman, a cold shiver ran down my spine. It looked like the nord village of Helgan would be the site of my demise. Not how I thought I'd go out, really. The presense of onlookers didn't give any comfort at all, as we prisoners were going to be the show of the day in our beheadings. A sad fate, one I wouldn't wish on anyone. A thought of meeting the Divines passed through my mind, and as the prisoners were let off the wagon and sorted, I closed my eyes and breathed a sigh of acceptance. If I was going to die in the cold, harsh mountains of Skyrim, I'd at least have the small comfort of knowing that there was nothing more I could do. One by one, we were called to line up for the block, the horse thief making a desperate attempt at freedom only to be shot down by Imperial arrows. Better to die on one's own terms that at the mercy of another, I suppose. When my turn came, I introduced myself as Dareem-Ves, from Black Marsh. Despite not being from the region, obviously, the Imperial Captain in charge of the execution demanded my presense near the block beside Ralof, the other prisoner from our wagon.
Just before the beheadings began, Tullius addressed Ulfric directly, calling him a traitor for killing the high king of Skyrim and starting open rebellion. As my turn for beheading came, a most unusual sound descended from the mountains. As I lay my head down onto the cold, bloody butcher's stone, I had a perfect view of what happened. An unearthly roar was let loose from a horrific, pitch black beast that was carried on powerful wings. I didn't want to believe it, but I knew what the beast was at first glance. Dragon, just like out of legends. As much as I hate to admit it, the devastation that followed saved my life, the midnight black monster breathing fire and wreaking havok upon everyone and everything in the village, Imperial soldiers doing their utmost to fend of the beast and protect the innocents. Ralof showed me a way through the debris and burning wreckage, taking me into a tower that provided no protection against the dragon that punched it's head through the stone and let out seering flames from its maw. I had to jump to "safety" and lost track of Ralof and Ulfric, not enjoying the sensation of the hard impact as I landed.
The Imperial soldier who was reading off names in the square, Hadvar, called me over and showed me the rest of the way through the burning village and into the Keep where he cut my wrists free and let me help in his search for a way out, though on our way into the Keep we saw Ulfric and Ralof making a break for the exits. Oblivion take the cowards. As we escaped, I heard what I thought must've been a trick of my ears: The dragon spoke! Not in any tongue I've ever heard, but I swear to the Divines it sounded like a voice, and not a benevolent one at that. The cursed thing landed and even took a few chomps at me! I couldn't catch a break!
Once inside the Keep, I found some Imperial gear that I chose to make use of. No way was I going to die without a fight, though I could still hear that beast's roars outside, the Keep shaking from its attacks. We made our way down through the corridors and torture chamber, picking off Stormcloak rebels that had taken refuge and were looting for what they could. Heartless bastards should've been outside protecting the innocents and defending the village, not trying to steal from their enemies. Their deaths brought me no satisfaction, but I admit I felt a rush as I killed them, the thought that I was NOT going to die there because of that bloody dragon spurring me on. Even as we made our way lower into the Keep, the dragon's attacks could still be felt, collapsing the passageways several times, forcing us to keep moving. Divines be praised the rubble didn't collapse on us both. In the torture room, the interigator claimed that he didn't believe a dragon was attacking, though I did find an interesting book detailing something called, a "dragonborn". An interesting name, though the time was not then to read. I was allowed to try my hand at picking a cell's lock, to get at what valuables might be inside from the remains of a long dead mage.
After that, we left, making our way down and out of the keep and into a network of caverns, inhabited by several stormcloaks, frostbite spiders, and a rather large bear. Fighting through them proved somewhat difficult, as they outnumbered us and one had a bow, but Hadvar was a capable sort. I remember thinking I was glad to have gone with him. The bear was relatively easy to dispatch, as I'd taken a bow and arrows off of the dead rebels from before. The spiders, though, were the size of me! A full grown Argonian! Nasty to ward off, but fortunately I'd found a shield earlier. Never will I understand how such creatures can range in size so. Normally, I'd be against looting the bodies of the dead, but as they attacked me and I intended to survive, I decided it was necessary. Found a few septims too. Guess I had some luck afterall.
When Hadvar and I finally made it out of the caves and into the daylight, we could see the dragon flying away from the scene towards the mountains. A sign of nothing good, I was sure. As we walked in the sunlight, Hadvar elaborated on things. Why the Empire in Skyrim was at war with the Stormcloaks, what Ulfric's story was, the story behind the war between the Legion and Stormcloaks, and even that I should've considered joining the Legion myself! I guess that I impressed him, though I admit I was not very familiar with the weapons I'd found, and barely familiar yet with the magic I could wield. I knew little of it, just that my skills at the time were sad to look at. And I don't know much about Talos, the one the Nords seemed to worship and be all fired up about since they'd been banned by the Altmeri Dominion from worshipping him, but it seemed to me a foolish thing to go to war over. No one can take belief away, only push a certain belief. Seems the stormcloaks wanted to kick the Empire and the elves out of Skyrim. That would be a bad idea, from what I've heard. I bear no love of the Altmer myself, but even I can see that starting war with them so soon after the Great War ended would end with nothing but blood.
We made our way to Riverwood, a nice quiet little town along the river. I could hear a local woman telling her kin about how she saw the dragon. No doubt things were going to get worse long before they got better. When Hadvar introduced me to his uncle, Alvar, the village blacksmith, we were told that we should go to Whiterun, and tell the Jarl of our situation and that the village could use more guards, as it didn't even have a wall to protect it.
Before I set out however, I needed to look around. After having been in bindings and nearly killed half a dozen times over in ten minutes time, I felt like I needed a breather. The village shop was cozy enough, run by two redguard siblings who'd came from the Imperial Province of Cyrodil. The sister was pleasant to look at, and the brother told me of how the shop had recently been robbed of a solid gold dragon claw by bandits and taken to a nearby ruin, Bleak Falls Barrow. Not exactly how I saw my evening going, but what can I say? I'm a sucker for the ladies in distress.