Post by Will on Nov 9, 2011 12:10:26 GMT -5
“Greetings, recruit,” says a voice from behind you. You turn, and see an armored Legion soldier walking up to you. “I hope your training has been going well, because our Captain has decided to promote you to a Legion Ranger. He expects to see you and some other recruits tonight at eight. You’ll meet in the barracks. Carry on then,” and he walks off.
The city’s new clock tower was on the opposite side of the district from your post, so you just mark the position of the sun as you always did to know when your shift was close to ending. After two more uneventful hours standing at your post, you see the sun dip below the city’s outside wall, and right on cue, the clock tower bell begins ringing, signaling your relief at six. You glance around, and within three minutes, you see the night guard Darius approaching.
“Hello friend,” he says, shaking your hand. “I heard the news about your promotion, about time if you ask me…I have yet to win a sparring match with you. Head over to the Market District and see if you can get one of the armorers there to polish your gear, and head straight across the bridge to the prison afterwards. Don’t be late, the Captain hates that.”
You do as he said, and just as the sun signaled eight-o-clock, you push open the heavy doors into the barracks, your freshly polished armor gleaming in the torchlight. There are a number of recruits sitting on various surfaces in the barracks, and the Captain, in his silver and gold armor, strolling around the cramped room. He turns to you as you enter, and opens his arms wide. “Ah, glad to see you made it!” He points you to a chair in the corner of the room, and turns to address the rest of the recruits.
“As you all should know, I am Legion Captain Agrippa. Each of you ten recruits has shown great potential in both swordsmanship and marksmanship, as well as skill on horseback. You all will become Legion Rangers, traveling Cyrodiil while keeping the roads safe for unarmed civilians. However, before you can take these positions, there is an important matter with our men in Skyrim. There has been a number of attacks on legion soldiers by rebels known as the Stormcloak. Our task is to travel to the province of Skyrim and aid the soldiers there until permanent replacements for their lost men can be provided by the Empire. As of this moment, you are all officially Legion Rangers. We will leave for Bruma in the morning, and continue north from there. That is all.” And the Captain leaves the barracks
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“Wake up, Nord,” says a deep voice from beside your table. You open your eyes and see Captain Agrippa, sitting on a barstool, sharpening his large battleaxe. You sit up, and look around the room. The nine other Rangers sat around the inn. You had arrived before them due to Captain Agrippa sending you ahead to inform the town of your arrival, and you must have drifted to sleep while waiting for the rest of the men. He stepped back, and a smaller man walked up to you, his armor, which was much too large for him, clanking around noisily.
“Hello there friend. I’m Alexander Maurus, a new Ranger like you. Anyway, here’s the plan; this inn is way too small for our numbers to sleep at, so we’ll begin traveling north and set up camp in the forest come nightfall. Our horses are crowding the town’s stable so lets head out eh?” He lifts his sword, also much too large for him, and exits the inn. The other guardsmen follow suit. After three hours of travel high into the mountains, the Captain throws up his hand, signaling the group to stop.
“We camp here,” he grunts, and he slides off of his horse, tying it to a nearby tree. You help the other men set up their small tents, and once the campsite was in good shape, you sink to the ground, leaning on a tree. You breathe in the thin mountain air, gazing across the moonlit province, the massive Imperial Palace visible even from this distance. You hear the distinctive clanking of Alexander walking towards you, and you snap yourself out of your daze.
“The Captain says we’re only an hour’s walk away from Skyrim. Get yourself out of your armor and have a good night’s rest, we’ll need it for the journey to Riften tomorrow.” You take the young soldier’s advice, and unstrap your heavy Legion armor, placing it against the tree you were leaning on. You crawl into your tent and fall asleep almost instantly.
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“WHERE’S ROLAND? ROLAND!?”
“CAPTAIN, BEHIND YOU!”
The sound of metal hitting metal, the sight of red light flickering through your eyelids. You faded back into sleep.
“Ralno, they’re all Legion, from the Imperial City I would guess, from their armor.”
“Search the bodies, perhaps one of them has orders as to why they’ve come so close to Skyrim.”
“I doubt it. Their captain managed to escape. Not to worry, he ran towards Skyrim, the reinforcements on their way from Solitude will capture him.”
You open your eyes, trying to shake yourself out of your strange dream. It was still dark out, and you peek your head through the small opening of the tent. You stifle a shout, and retreat back into the tent. It was no dream. Imperial bodies littered the ground, the light snow red with their blood. You could see men wearing various furs walking through the carnage, poking through the bodies with their weapons, checking for survivors. They must have missed your tent due to it’s concealed position between two large bushes.
Just as you finish this thought, you gasp as your tent is violently ripped from the ground. A tall, mad-eyed Nord stands above you, drawing his sword. You kick out, smashing your foot into his stomach, and he doubles over. You leap to your feet, drawing your small dagger, sinking it into the back of his neck. You clasp your hand over his mouth to stifle his moans, and after a few seconds, he goes limp. None of the other Nords heard, and you take the man’s sword and sprint into the forest. The canopy of the trees block out the stars, and you could not determine which way was north or south, you just had to get away from the campsite. After ten minutes of stumbling blindly through the thick forest, you trip and tumble down a large hill.
You groan, and push yourself onto your knees. You can hear shouting in the distance, and you look around madly. You squint to see through the darkness, and you see a wooden door hanging on a broken hinge, leading into a dark cave under a small hill across from you. You sprint into the cave, shoving the sword into the dirt above the entrance. You jerk the blade around, and step back as the entrance caves in. It was only dirt, you would be able to dig out of it easily if you had to.
While Magic was not your strong suit, you only needed light, so you held out your hand and struggled to ignite a small ball of flame in your fist. It was not the most powerful light source, but it would do. You look around the cave, and see the passage descending into the ground. You had no real choice but to follow it, find either a way out or a way to hide from the attacking Nords until they left the area.
You wish you had your armor. As a Nord, the cold meant nothing to you, but you feel very vulnerable to any form of attack. The sword was also uncomfortable. It was much thicker and heavier than the steel swords provided in the Imperial City. You lightly slide your finger across the blade, and feel the slight prickling of a professionally sharpened sword. While heavy, it would do fine in combat.
You slowly proceed further into the cave, holding your small flame ahead of you. Not only could there already be enemy soldiers in the cave, there could also be animals, bandits, or any number of other hostiles. You keep the sword clenched tightly in your hand, peering around every corner you come across in the dark cave. You notice that you were no longer descending, and the cave flattens out into a narrow hall fading into the darkness.
After about ten minutes of walking in a straight line, the narrow path begins to widen, and you can see wooden beams supporting the ceiling of the cave. You place your hand on the wood, and you can tell that it was placed there recently. There was no rot or large cracks, someone must either be inhabiting the cave, or have done so recently. You continue through the continually widening cavern, and you see light in the distance. You close your fist, and the flame dissipates from your hand.
The light was flickering, meaning it was fire, not daylight. You didn’t even know if it was day outside, it was pitch black when you entered the cave, and you had made the mistake of not noting the position of the moon in your panic. You drop into a crouch, and slowly make your way towards the fire. You come upon an opening in the cave, leading into a wide, circular chamber, an absolutely massive fire burning in the center. Roasting over the flame was a very strange creature, it was large and heavy looking, with large fins protruding from it’s sides. It had a long, wide, and pink beak on the front of it’s face, and a tail that resembled that of a whale.
There were massive chairs, beds, and a nine-foot-wide ladder leading up into another part of the cave. You felt apprehensive about continuing through this cave, you had heard stories of Giants who resided in Skyrim, and it appeared that you had just wandered into their home. There was nothing to walk back to, and you could hear no sounds from inside the cave.
Very slowly, you begin to creep into the large chamber, and no sooner than you set foot into the cavern…
“Hey!” A loud voice shouted from directly behind you, and you nearly fall over from shock. You stumble forwards, spinning around and find yourself staring at a Khajiit and a Nord tied to a couple of pillars leaning against the wall. “Hey buddy, we could use some help here. We were captured by these Giants and they could be back any moment,” the Khajiit hissed.
You step back, raising your sword, anticipating a trap. The Nord struggles with his ropes, and stares at the sword you took from your earlier attacker. “We are not enemies of yours, Stormcloak. We have no business with the rebellion or the Legion, just cut us out of here before we become the Giant’s second dinner,” he says, motioning at the roasting creature with his head.
Just as this Nord said, you also had no real desire to get involved with the wars in Skyrim. You just wanted to get home to the Imperial City.
You walk to the pillar, and begin to chop at the two inch thick ropes binding the two captives. Just as you nearly have the Khajiit free, he kicks out, knocking you to the side just as a ten foot long bone crashes down onto the spot you were just standing. You hear a deafening roar as the Giant drops down from a perch above you, it’s landing shaking the foundation of the cave. The Giant was wearing what appeared to be the skull of a massive beast as a helmet, and a strapped together ribcage as a cuirass. It picks up its bone sword, and with another roar, charges straight at you.
You dive away, but the Giant was surprisingly quick to turn, swinging its weapon in an arc towards you. You throw yourself to the ground, but the weapon grazes your arm, and while the weapon was not sharp, the weight of the attack dislocates your right shoulder. You yell in pain, your sword dropping from your hand, and you begin to crawl away from the Giant. It stomps towards you, lifting its two-meter long foot off the ground, and out the corner of your eye, you can see the Khajiit break free from his binds. You exhale deeply, and push off with your left arm, rolling out of the way of the Giant’s stomp. You continue to roll away, and you can feel your dislocated shoulder nearly ripping from the motion. You scream in agony again, coming to a stop and breathing heavily.
Before you can even refill your lungs, the Giant is on you again, its foot once again raised above your body. You try to move, but your shoulder throbs with unbelievable pain, and you remain motionless. The Giant begins to bring its foot down, and you curl up just as the Khajiit launches himself on top of you, thrusting your stolen sword upwards into the Giant’s foot, sinking it in to the hilt. The Giant roars and falls backwards, once again shaking the whole cave.
The Khajiit rips the sword from the Giant’s foot, crouches down, and then leaps through the air, landing on the Giant’s chest. He brings the sword above his head, and shoves it into the Giant’s left eye, jerking it around violently. The massive creature roars in agony, and throws out its hand, grabbing the Khajiit around the middle, and the Giant gets to its feet, holding the Khajiit out in front of it. Before it can begin to squeeze, the Khajiit wrenches his arm from the Giant’s grip, and you see two inch long claws protrude from the cat-creature’s hands. He slashes at the Giant’s wrist, and it roars once more, throwing the Khajiit towards the cavern wall. With incredible agility, he kicks off the wall and launches himself through the air again, this time sinking the blade into the Giant’s back as it stumbled around holding its eye and wrist.
Blood pours from both of the wounds like water through a broken dam, but the Khajiit would not relent. Sinking the claws of his left hand into the Giant’s flesh, he drew the sword from its back, and thrust it in again and again. Eventually the Giant collapses, still thrashing on the ground, and the Khajiit rolls off, calmly strides to the Giant’s head, and slashes its throat wide open. After one more death throe, it lay still.
The Khajiit walks over to you, holding out his hand. You take it and he pulls you to your feet. “Well, you’re certainly no Stormcloak. I’ve never seen one lose so badly in a fight,” he laughs. “Ah well, it’s unimportant. Let me see what I can do about that arm…” Without warning, he grabs you by the shoulder and violently jerks your bone back into place. You try to stifle a yell, but the pain faded soon after.
“Hey, Dar’Krishan, think you could do something about this?” You turn your head, and see the Nord still tied tight to the pillar. The Khajiit lets out another laugh, and jogs over to the pillar, cutting the Nord free, and then he tosses you back the sword. The Nord walks over to you, stretching out his arms. “I thank you, brother. Without your help we certainly would have perished down here. I don’t suppose you know a way out?”
You recount the story of how you ended up in this cave in the first place, leaving out the part about you being in the Imperial Legion. The Nord sighs. “Aye, you were definitely attacked by members of the Stormcloak rebellion. They’ve been very hostile towards outsiders recently, and I suppose it’s warranted with the Imperials and their recent rash of executions. They can’t risk letting any more Imperial reinforcements into the province. As I said, I’m not on either side. We should find another way out, if we go back the way you came, who’s to say the Stormcloak won’t greet us with a volley of arrows.
The Khajiit, Dar’Krishan, agreed with this statement, and the three of you begin climbing the massive ladder up to the rest of the cave. The ladder leads into a very wide and tall path, easily high enough to accommodate even the tallest Giant. “Keep up the pace, I’d rather not get into a fight with more of those creatures,” and the Nord begins to jog ahead. You and Dar’Krishan keep up, and eventually you come to a turn in the cave, with a massive stone door blocking the exit. You and the Nord push against it, but it won’t budge.
“Stand back, I can get this,” Dar’Krishan says, and he holds out both of his hands, and a stream of purple light bursts forth, and a massive being of ice stood before you. The Nord stepped back, glaring at Dar’Krishan. “If you could do that, how come you didn’t do so with the Giant!?” he yells.
“Well that wouldn’t have been as much fun, eh?” the Khajiit laughs again, as the Frost Atronach begins to pound on the large door. Eventually the Atronach manages to shove it open enough where the three of you could squeeze out into the darkness. It was still the middle of the night, the moon only a little lower than midnight. You listen for any sounds in the distance, but all was quiet.
“I thank you for freeing us, Nord, but we must go our own way now. I wish you a safe journey, be wary of any armed men you see in this province. It seems as though that cave was a path leading into Cyrodiil, but we are back in Skyrim now.”
“Goodbye, brother. I thank you as well, and hope to meet you again one day,” and the two of them run off into the forest. You know you needed to head south in order to get back into Cyrodiil, so you check the stars, find North, and begin heading in the opposite direction.
The pine forest in the mountains was extremely thick, you had to wind your way through trees and had a visibility of nigh ten meters. After what felt like an hour of slashing through branches and tripping in thorn bushes, you finally break out of the forest, and sigh in relief as you see the Imperial Palace far in the distance. You glance around, looking for a path that might lead down the mountains, but you’re interrupted by rustling in the trees behind you. You spin around, raising the sword, and see at least fifteen men emerge from the trees, all wearing the same fur and cloths as the party who attacked your camp.
One of them raises his axe and charges towards you, but he is grabbed by two of his companions and held back. “Don’t attack him, he’s one of us!” one of them yelled.
“He has our sword, but not our armor.”
“Who are you, why do you have our blade?”
Thinking quickly, you explain how your brother was a Stormcloak, and had died in battle, and you had traveled here from Solitude to try to join their ranks. The sword belonged to him.
One of them snatched the blade away from you, smelled the blade and then gave it a small lick. “Giant’s blood! HA! You are indeed not of the Legion, that’s for sure. Those bootlickers would piss themselves at the mere sight of a Giant!” One of the other men stepped from the ranks.
“You must be Faren’s brother. He spoke of you all the time, his death was a sad one, but there is more glory to be found in Sovngarde, my friend. Of course you may join us. We’ll get you armor once we return to Solitude. We just traveled from there to back up our soldiers watching the border, you must have been right behind us the whole way.”
The first man spoke again. “Come with us back to camp, we’re going to search for the other Stormcloak in the morning.” You follow the group through the forest, and see fire flickering through the trees. You come into a clearing, and see three other men sitting around the fire, roasting a large boar.
“Welcome back, who’s the kid?” one of them says.
“Faren’s brother. Apparently he followed us all the way from Solitude, no short journey for one man. Not only that, he’s slain a Giant!” And before you could even get anyone’s name, half the men were embellishing stories about you, shoving mead into your hand, and generally treating you as one of their own. After a few drinks, you decide to pry them with some questions. Trying to be vague, you ask them what the Legion had done to each of them to cause them to join the rebellion.
As soon as you asked this, the whole camp went quiet. One of the oldest men in the camp spoke up. “As you know, the Legion’s been oppressing Skyrim for many years. They think they can march in here and take our homeland, but we will not allow it. They burn down our homes, rape our women, enslave and even attempt to recruit our children. Many of our men have had to kill their own friends and family because they tried to defect to the Imperials.
They indiscriminately execute any who try to stand against them, and they act like it’s some form of justice. I’ve seen kids no older than thirteen meet the chopping block for pickpocketing or stealing petty objects from the Legion. We’re at war, boy, and I’m sure your brother looks upon you with pride from his home in Sovngarde. We do not fight for glory, we fight for freedom and our home. Remember that.”
The rest of the night was quiet. You were shaken awake early in the morning by one of the Stormcloak, and saw the rest gathered around the older man, who was seemingly about to either give orders or some kind of speech. You sit up and join the rest of them as their apparent leader began to speak.
“Right before I woke you all, our scout returned with news of a Legion camp that was burned to the ground just east of our position. We’re to investigate it, as its destruction was likely caused by our brothers watching the border. Pack up the tents, and the rest of that boar better be in your gut or in the garbage, we need to head out in twenty minutes, we have no time to smoke the meat.” You scramble around the camp helping the men pack their tents, and take a few good chunks out of the boar.
You could not believe you were actually traveling with the enemy. They slaughtered your comrades, some of your friends. However, you couldn’t help feel conflicted about this entire thing…if they spoke the truth, this rebellion was indeed justified. You push the thought from your head and finish packing the last tent, and begin following the rest of the men into the forest.
After hours of travel, you begin to smell burning flesh in the distance. Soon, you come onto the road where your Legion party had camped. Imperial bodies were scattered around like thrown dolls, blood had soaked the road red.
“Lets get down and search for any signs of the other Stormcloak’s location. Also, on another front, Ulfric himself has been gathering Nord allies from Bruma, and he should be leading them towards Skyrim as we speak. They‘ll likely be coming through this road some time today. We will wait here until they arrive, and then continue our search,” the leader says. He then turned to you and spoke again. “See that hill? You can climb to the top of that hill and keep lookout, there could easily be a Legion ambush waiting for us. Yell if you see ANYONE approaching us, as we’re also waiting for Ulfric, our leader, and any aid he brings from Bruma.”
You do as he said, laying prone under a bush on the hill, eyes peering over the burned campsite. Why, in name of Martin, were you actually keeping lookout for your ENEMIES? You sigh deeply, and continue to scan the landscape. It seemed like forever that the Nords searched the burned camp, and you felt yourself drifting into a daze when you saw movement in the forest to the east. And then you saw it, the dark metal armor of Legion troops moving through the trees.
You find your mouth open, about to shout in order to warn the Stormcloaks, but you force it shut and groan. You could not betray the Legion, but you wouldn’t join them in the fight against the Stormcloak either. You stand and run, sprinting as fast as you can through the forest. You run and run, until the fighting fades from your ears. Eventually, you slide to a stop, breathing heavily. You look up into the sky, just as the sharp pain hits the back of your head. Everything fades to black as you collapse to the ground.
“Is he one of the Stormcloaks?”
“I don’t think so…we found him crossing the border.”
“He has their sword.”
“But why didn’t he join the fight? Stormcloaks are certainly not known for cowardice.”
“No matter, he tried to sneak into Skyrim during a civil war. Stormcloak or not, he must face execution.”
“Very well, bind his hands and throw him in the wagon with the others.”
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Alduin, Eater of Worlds and the Bane of Kings, has risen again,
and with skies fire-paved, he brings the destruction of the mortal plane of Nirn.
There is one, a Son of Skyrim, who has the power to defeat him.
The voice booms through your head, you try to look around, but all you see is fire and corpses. Buildings collapsed in the distance, and in the skies, great winged beasts breathing fire upon the land.
Roaring, flame, and finally blackness.
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You shake yourself awake from this nightmare, and after getting your bearings, you find yourself sitting in a wooden carriage being pulled down a bumpy road. There are three other men in the carriage with you, two Nords wearing Stormcloak furs, one of whom was gagged, and another wearing simple patched clothes. The wagon was being pulled by a Legion soldier, and there was another carriage, also carrying Stormcloaks, being pulled down the road ahead of you. The Stormcloak sitting across from you looks up.
“Hey, you. You’re finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there…
TO BE CONTINUED: 11/11/11
The city’s new clock tower was on the opposite side of the district from your post, so you just mark the position of the sun as you always did to know when your shift was close to ending. After two more uneventful hours standing at your post, you see the sun dip below the city’s outside wall, and right on cue, the clock tower bell begins ringing, signaling your relief at six. You glance around, and within three minutes, you see the night guard Darius approaching.
“Hello friend,” he says, shaking your hand. “I heard the news about your promotion, about time if you ask me…I have yet to win a sparring match with you. Head over to the Market District and see if you can get one of the armorers there to polish your gear, and head straight across the bridge to the prison afterwards. Don’t be late, the Captain hates that.”
You do as he said, and just as the sun signaled eight-o-clock, you push open the heavy doors into the barracks, your freshly polished armor gleaming in the torchlight. There are a number of recruits sitting on various surfaces in the barracks, and the Captain, in his silver and gold armor, strolling around the cramped room. He turns to you as you enter, and opens his arms wide. “Ah, glad to see you made it!” He points you to a chair in the corner of the room, and turns to address the rest of the recruits.
“As you all should know, I am Legion Captain Agrippa. Each of you ten recruits has shown great potential in both swordsmanship and marksmanship, as well as skill on horseback. You all will become Legion Rangers, traveling Cyrodiil while keeping the roads safe for unarmed civilians. However, before you can take these positions, there is an important matter with our men in Skyrim. There has been a number of attacks on legion soldiers by rebels known as the Stormcloak. Our task is to travel to the province of Skyrim and aid the soldiers there until permanent replacements for their lost men can be provided by the Empire. As of this moment, you are all officially Legion Rangers. We will leave for Bruma in the morning, and continue north from there. That is all.” And the Captain leaves the barracks
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“Wake up, Nord,” says a deep voice from beside your table. You open your eyes and see Captain Agrippa, sitting on a barstool, sharpening his large battleaxe. You sit up, and look around the room. The nine other Rangers sat around the inn. You had arrived before them due to Captain Agrippa sending you ahead to inform the town of your arrival, and you must have drifted to sleep while waiting for the rest of the men. He stepped back, and a smaller man walked up to you, his armor, which was much too large for him, clanking around noisily.
“Hello there friend. I’m Alexander Maurus, a new Ranger like you. Anyway, here’s the plan; this inn is way too small for our numbers to sleep at, so we’ll begin traveling north and set up camp in the forest come nightfall. Our horses are crowding the town’s stable so lets head out eh?” He lifts his sword, also much too large for him, and exits the inn. The other guardsmen follow suit. After three hours of travel high into the mountains, the Captain throws up his hand, signaling the group to stop.
“We camp here,” he grunts, and he slides off of his horse, tying it to a nearby tree. You help the other men set up their small tents, and once the campsite was in good shape, you sink to the ground, leaning on a tree. You breathe in the thin mountain air, gazing across the moonlit province, the massive Imperial Palace visible even from this distance. You hear the distinctive clanking of Alexander walking towards you, and you snap yourself out of your daze.
“The Captain says we’re only an hour’s walk away from Skyrim. Get yourself out of your armor and have a good night’s rest, we’ll need it for the journey to Riften tomorrow.” You take the young soldier’s advice, and unstrap your heavy Legion armor, placing it against the tree you were leaning on. You crawl into your tent and fall asleep almost instantly.
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“WHERE’S ROLAND? ROLAND!?”
“CAPTAIN, BEHIND YOU!”
The sound of metal hitting metal, the sight of red light flickering through your eyelids. You faded back into sleep.
“Ralno, they’re all Legion, from the Imperial City I would guess, from their armor.”
“Search the bodies, perhaps one of them has orders as to why they’ve come so close to Skyrim.”
“I doubt it. Their captain managed to escape. Not to worry, he ran towards Skyrim, the reinforcements on their way from Solitude will capture him.”
You open your eyes, trying to shake yourself out of your strange dream. It was still dark out, and you peek your head through the small opening of the tent. You stifle a shout, and retreat back into the tent. It was no dream. Imperial bodies littered the ground, the light snow red with their blood. You could see men wearing various furs walking through the carnage, poking through the bodies with their weapons, checking for survivors. They must have missed your tent due to it’s concealed position between two large bushes.
Just as you finish this thought, you gasp as your tent is violently ripped from the ground. A tall, mad-eyed Nord stands above you, drawing his sword. You kick out, smashing your foot into his stomach, and he doubles over. You leap to your feet, drawing your small dagger, sinking it into the back of his neck. You clasp your hand over his mouth to stifle his moans, and after a few seconds, he goes limp. None of the other Nords heard, and you take the man’s sword and sprint into the forest. The canopy of the trees block out the stars, and you could not determine which way was north or south, you just had to get away from the campsite. After ten minutes of stumbling blindly through the thick forest, you trip and tumble down a large hill.
You groan, and push yourself onto your knees. You can hear shouting in the distance, and you look around madly. You squint to see through the darkness, and you see a wooden door hanging on a broken hinge, leading into a dark cave under a small hill across from you. You sprint into the cave, shoving the sword into the dirt above the entrance. You jerk the blade around, and step back as the entrance caves in. It was only dirt, you would be able to dig out of it easily if you had to.
While Magic was not your strong suit, you only needed light, so you held out your hand and struggled to ignite a small ball of flame in your fist. It was not the most powerful light source, but it would do. You look around the cave, and see the passage descending into the ground. You had no real choice but to follow it, find either a way out or a way to hide from the attacking Nords until they left the area.
You wish you had your armor. As a Nord, the cold meant nothing to you, but you feel very vulnerable to any form of attack. The sword was also uncomfortable. It was much thicker and heavier than the steel swords provided in the Imperial City. You lightly slide your finger across the blade, and feel the slight prickling of a professionally sharpened sword. While heavy, it would do fine in combat.
You slowly proceed further into the cave, holding your small flame ahead of you. Not only could there already be enemy soldiers in the cave, there could also be animals, bandits, or any number of other hostiles. You keep the sword clenched tightly in your hand, peering around every corner you come across in the dark cave. You notice that you were no longer descending, and the cave flattens out into a narrow hall fading into the darkness.
After about ten minutes of walking in a straight line, the narrow path begins to widen, and you can see wooden beams supporting the ceiling of the cave. You place your hand on the wood, and you can tell that it was placed there recently. There was no rot or large cracks, someone must either be inhabiting the cave, or have done so recently. You continue through the continually widening cavern, and you see light in the distance. You close your fist, and the flame dissipates from your hand.
The light was flickering, meaning it was fire, not daylight. You didn’t even know if it was day outside, it was pitch black when you entered the cave, and you had made the mistake of not noting the position of the moon in your panic. You drop into a crouch, and slowly make your way towards the fire. You come upon an opening in the cave, leading into a wide, circular chamber, an absolutely massive fire burning in the center. Roasting over the flame was a very strange creature, it was large and heavy looking, with large fins protruding from it’s sides. It had a long, wide, and pink beak on the front of it’s face, and a tail that resembled that of a whale.
There were massive chairs, beds, and a nine-foot-wide ladder leading up into another part of the cave. You felt apprehensive about continuing through this cave, you had heard stories of Giants who resided in Skyrim, and it appeared that you had just wandered into their home. There was nothing to walk back to, and you could hear no sounds from inside the cave.
Very slowly, you begin to creep into the large chamber, and no sooner than you set foot into the cavern…
“Hey!” A loud voice shouted from directly behind you, and you nearly fall over from shock. You stumble forwards, spinning around and find yourself staring at a Khajiit and a Nord tied to a couple of pillars leaning against the wall. “Hey buddy, we could use some help here. We were captured by these Giants and they could be back any moment,” the Khajiit hissed.
You step back, raising your sword, anticipating a trap. The Nord struggles with his ropes, and stares at the sword you took from your earlier attacker. “We are not enemies of yours, Stormcloak. We have no business with the rebellion or the Legion, just cut us out of here before we become the Giant’s second dinner,” he says, motioning at the roasting creature with his head.
Just as this Nord said, you also had no real desire to get involved with the wars in Skyrim. You just wanted to get home to the Imperial City.
You walk to the pillar, and begin to chop at the two inch thick ropes binding the two captives. Just as you nearly have the Khajiit free, he kicks out, knocking you to the side just as a ten foot long bone crashes down onto the spot you were just standing. You hear a deafening roar as the Giant drops down from a perch above you, it’s landing shaking the foundation of the cave. The Giant was wearing what appeared to be the skull of a massive beast as a helmet, and a strapped together ribcage as a cuirass. It picks up its bone sword, and with another roar, charges straight at you.
You dive away, but the Giant was surprisingly quick to turn, swinging its weapon in an arc towards you. You throw yourself to the ground, but the weapon grazes your arm, and while the weapon was not sharp, the weight of the attack dislocates your right shoulder. You yell in pain, your sword dropping from your hand, and you begin to crawl away from the Giant. It stomps towards you, lifting its two-meter long foot off the ground, and out the corner of your eye, you can see the Khajiit break free from his binds. You exhale deeply, and push off with your left arm, rolling out of the way of the Giant’s stomp. You continue to roll away, and you can feel your dislocated shoulder nearly ripping from the motion. You scream in agony again, coming to a stop and breathing heavily.
Before you can even refill your lungs, the Giant is on you again, its foot once again raised above your body. You try to move, but your shoulder throbs with unbelievable pain, and you remain motionless. The Giant begins to bring its foot down, and you curl up just as the Khajiit launches himself on top of you, thrusting your stolen sword upwards into the Giant’s foot, sinking it in to the hilt. The Giant roars and falls backwards, once again shaking the whole cave.
The Khajiit rips the sword from the Giant’s foot, crouches down, and then leaps through the air, landing on the Giant’s chest. He brings the sword above his head, and shoves it into the Giant’s left eye, jerking it around violently. The massive creature roars in agony, and throws out its hand, grabbing the Khajiit around the middle, and the Giant gets to its feet, holding the Khajiit out in front of it. Before it can begin to squeeze, the Khajiit wrenches his arm from the Giant’s grip, and you see two inch long claws protrude from the cat-creature’s hands. He slashes at the Giant’s wrist, and it roars once more, throwing the Khajiit towards the cavern wall. With incredible agility, he kicks off the wall and launches himself through the air again, this time sinking the blade into the Giant’s back as it stumbled around holding its eye and wrist.
Blood pours from both of the wounds like water through a broken dam, but the Khajiit would not relent. Sinking the claws of his left hand into the Giant’s flesh, he drew the sword from its back, and thrust it in again and again. Eventually the Giant collapses, still thrashing on the ground, and the Khajiit rolls off, calmly strides to the Giant’s head, and slashes its throat wide open. After one more death throe, it lay still.
The Khajiit walks over to you, holding out his hand. You take it and he pulls you to your feet. “Well, you’re certainly no Stormcloak. I’ve never seen one lose so badly in a fight,” he laughs. “Ah well, it’s unimportant. Let me see what I can do about that arm…” Without warning, he grabs you by the shoulder and violently jerks your bone back into place. You try to stifle a yell, but the pain faded soon after.
“Hey, Dar’Krishan, think you could do something about this?” You turn your head, and see the Nord still tied tight to the pillar. The Khajiit lets out another laugh, and jogs over to the pillar, cutting the Nord free, and then he tosses you back the sword. The Nord walks over to you, stretching out his arms. “I thank you, brother. Without your help we certainly would have perished down here. I don’t suppose you know a way out?”
You recount the story of how you ended up in this cave in the first place, leaving out the part about you being in the Imperial Legion. The Nord sighs. “Aye, you were definitely attacked by members of the Stormcloak rebellion. They’ve been very hostile towards outsiders recently, and I suppose it’s warranted with the Imperials and their recent rash of executions. They can’t risk letting any more Imperial reinforcements into the province. As I said, I’m not on either side. We should find another way out, if we go back the way you came, who’s to say the Stormcloak won’t greet us with a volley of arrows.
The Khajiit, Dar’Krishan, agreed with this statement, and the three of you begin climbing the massive ladder up to the rest of the cave. The ladder leads into a very wide and tall path, easily high enough to accommodate even the tallest Giant. “Keep up the pace, I’d rather not get into a fight with more of those creatures,” and the Nord begins to jog ahead. You and Dar’Krishan keep up, and eventually you come to a turn in the cave, with a massive stone door blocking the exit. You and the Nord push against it, but it won’t budge.
“Stand back, I can get this,” Dar’Krishan says, and he holds out both of his hands, and a stream of purple light bursts forth, and a massive being of ice stood before you. The Nord stepped back, glaring at Dar’Krishan. “If you could do that, how come you didn’t do so with the Giant!?” he yells.
“Well that wouldn’t have been as much fun, eh?” the Khajiit laughs again, as the Frost Atronach begins to pound on the large door. Eventually the Atronach manages to shove it open enough where the three of you could squeeze out into the darkness. It was still the middle of the night, the moon only a little lower than midnight. You listen for any sounds in the distance, but all was quiet.
“I thank you for freeing us, Nord, but we must go our own way now. I wish you a safe journey, be wary of any armed men you see in this province. It seems as though that cave was a path leading into Cyrodiil, but we are back in Skyrim now.”
“Goodbye, brother. I thank you as well, and hope to meet you again one day,” and the two of them run off into the forest. You know you needed to head south in order to get back into Cyrodiil, so you check the stars, find North, and begin heading in the opposite direction.
The pine forest in the mountains was extremely thick, you had to wind your way through trees and had a visibility of nigh ten meters. After what felt like an hour of slashing through branches and tripping in thorn bushes, you finally break out of the forest, and sigh in relief as you see the Imperial Palace far in the distance. You glance around, looking for a path that might lead down the mountains, but you’re interrupted by rustling in the trees behind you. You spin around, raising the sword, and see at least fifteen men emerge from the trees, all wearing the same fur and cloths as the party who attacked your camp.
One of them raises his axe and charges towards you, but he is grabbed by two of his companions and held back. “Don’t attack him, he’s one of us!” one of them yelled.
“He has our sword, but not our armor.”
“Who are you, why do you have our blade?”
Thinking quickly, you explain how your brother was a Stormcloak, and had died in battle, and you had traveled here from Solitude to try to join their ranks. The sword belonged to him.
One of them snatched the blade away from you, smelled the blade and then gave it a small lick. “Giant’s blood! HA! You are indeed not of the Legion, that’s for sure. Those bootlickers would piss themselves at the mere sight of a Giant!” One of the other men stepped from the ranks.
“You must be Faren’s brother. He spoke of you all the time, his death was a sad one, but there is more glory to be found in Sovngarde, my friend. Of course you may join us. We’ll get you armor once we return to Solitude. We just traveled from there to back up our soldiers watching the border, you must have been right behind us the whole way.”
The first man spoke again. “Come with us back to camp, we’re going to search for the other Stormcloak in the morning.” You follow the group through the forest, and see fire flickering through the trees. You come into a clearing, and see three other men sitting around the fire, roasting a large boar.
“Welcome back, who’s the kid?” one of them says.
“Faren’s brother. Apparently he followed us all the way from Solitude, no short journey for one man. Not only that, he’s slain a Giant!” And before you could even get anyone’s name, half the men were embellishing stories about you, shoving mead into your hand, and generally treating you as one of their own. After a few drinks, you decide to pry them with some questions. Trying to be vague, you ask them what the Legion had done to each of them to cause them to join the rebellion.
As soon as you asked this, the whole camp went quiet. One of the oldest men in the camp spoke up. “As you know, the Legion’s been oppressing Skyrim for many years. They think they can march in here and take our homeland, but we will not allow it. They burn down our homes, rape our women, enslave and even attempt to recruit our children. Many of our men have had to kill their own friends and family because they tried to defect to the Imperials.
They indiscriminately execute any who try to stand against them, and they act like it’s some form of justice. I’ve seen kids no older than thirteen meet the chopping block for pickpocketing or stealing petty objects from the Legion. We’re at war, boy, and I’m sure your brother looks upon you with pride from his home in Sovngarde. We do not fight for glory, we fight for freedom and our home. Remember that.”
The rest of the night was quiet. You were shaken awake early in the morning by one of the Stormcloak, and saw the rest gathered around the older man, who was seemingly about to either give orders or some kind of speech. You sit up and join the rest of them as their apparent leader began to speak.
“Right before I woke you all, our scout returned with news of a Legion camp that was burned to the ground just east of our position. We’re to investigate it, as its destruction was likely caused by our brothers watching the border. Pack up the tents, and the rest of that boar better be in your gut or in the garbage, we need to head out in twenty minutes, we have no time to smoke the meat.” You scramble around the camp helping the men pack their tents, and take a few good chunks out of the boar.
You could not believe you were actually traveling with the enemy. They slaughtered your comrades, some of your friends. However, you couldn’t help feel conflicted about this entire thing…if they spoke the truth, this rebellion was indeed justified. You push the thought from your head and finish packing the last tent, and begin following the rest of the men into the forest.
After hours of travel, you begin to smell burning flesh in the distance. Soon, you come onto the road where your Legion party had camped. Imperial bodies were scattered around like thrown dolls, blood had soaked the road red.
“Lets get down and search for any signs of the other Stormcloak’s location. Also, on another front, Ulfric himself has been gathering Nord allies from Bruma, and he should be leading them towards Skyrim as we speak. They‘ll likely be coming through this road some time today. We will wait here until they arrive, and then continue our search,” the leader says. He then turned to you and spoke again. “See that hill? You can climb to the top of that hill and keep lookout, there could easily be a Legion ambush waiting for us. Yell if you see ANYONE approaching us, as we’re also waiting for Ulfric, our leader, and any aid he brings from Bruma.”
You do as he said, laying prone under a bush on the hill, eyes peering over the burned campsite. Why, in name of Martin, were you actually keeping lookout for your ENEMIES? You sigh deeply, and continue to scan the landscape. It seemed like forever that the Nords searched the burned camp, and you felt yourself drifting into a daze when you saw movement in the forest to the east. And then you saw it, the dark metal armor of Legion troops moving through the trees.
You find your mouth open, about to shout in order to warn the Stormcloaks, but you force it shut and groan. You could not betray the Legion, but you wouldn’t join them in the fight against the Stormcloak either. You stand and run, sprinting as fast as you can through the forest. You run and run, until the fighting fades from your ears. Eventually, you slide to a stop, breathing heavily. You look up into the sky, just as the sharp pain hits the back of your head. Everything fades to black as you collapse to the ground.
“Is he one of the Stormcloaks?”
“I don’t think so…we found him crossing the border.”
“He has their sword.”
“But why didn’t he join the fight? Stormcloaks are certainly not known for cowardice.”
“No matter, he tried to sneak into Skyrim during a civil war. Stormcloak or not, he must face execution.”
“Very well, bind his hands and throw him in the wagon with the others.”
*************************************************************
Alduin, Eater of Worlds and the Bane of Kings, has risen again,
and with skies fire-paved, he brings the destruction of the mortal plane of Nirn.
There is one, a Son of Skyrim, who has the power to defeat him.
The voice booms through your head, you try to look around, but all you see is fire and corpses. Buildings collapsed in the distance, and in the skies, great winged beasts breathing fire upon the land.
Roaring, flame, and finally blackness.
*************************************************************
You shake yourself awake from this nightmare, and after getting your bearings, you find yourself sitting in a wooden carriage being pulled down a bumpy road. There are three other men in the carriage with you, two Nords wearing Stormcloak furs, one of whom was gagged, and another wearing simple patched clothes. The wagon was being pulled by a Legion soldier, and there was another carriage, also carrying Stormcloaks, being pulled down the road ahead of you. The Stormcloak sitting across from you looks up.
“Hey, you. You’re finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there…
TO BE CONTINUED: 11/11/11
