The day the legend came true

  • NOTE: I did some changes to some of the characters. For instance, Vilod is in the game a supporter of the imperial side. 

    Helgen woke up for another day. Familiar sounds began to sound as the sun showed himself and lit the roofs of many houses.

     Greeting his fellow citizens, Vilod made his way to the inn. He stopped to let a few children pass, playing as soldiers. His smile disappeared as he noticed the people who the children where imitating. It was the local Imperial captain, followed by imperial soldiers. Vilod growled.

    Torolf, standing at the other side of the street, slowly shook his head. Vilod understood the message. It would not be the first time Vilod started a riot, and the lumberjack knew that. Continuing his way, a few words reached his ears. ‘Prisoners’, ‘Execution’, and ‘Stormcloack’ were words Vilod could recognize from their sayings.

    It was a common phenomenon, an execution in Helgen. The Imperials were busy capturing everyone who ingnored their authority. Stormcloacks, people who whorshipped Talos, or just your day-to-day highwaymen. At least one time a week a cart came rolling in. Birds would fly up as the Headsman waved his axe on the first victim.

    Vilod still waited for the day that not the Stormcloacks, but the imperials, were the ones sitting in those carts. The day that this city was back in the hands of the nords, was the day on which he could die in peace. Die under the cries of triumph from his brothers, that’s how Vilod wanted it.

    And that’s why Vilod never missed the chance to show a bit of resistance against imperial scum. Until today. Today he realized that it made no sense, it served no purpose. Every cart entering the gates of Helgen, was another personal defeat for Vilod.

    Calmly, but with withheld anger, Vilod unlocked the doors of the inn. He looked around. This was his domain, his pride, his workplace. The imperials wouldn’t conquer the inn, that’s what Vilod kept telling himself. He was lucky that the imperials didn’t take consequences when Vilod didn’t allow them in.

     The inn was still the center of the Nords in town. Things were said here that where said nowhere else. Ambitious plans were forged here but they were never performed.The inn was the only place that made Vilod happy.

    It took not long before his regulars came in for a morning beer. He avoided Torolf’s look. The mood was different today, and Vilod understood that the news was been spread around town. ‘How late?’ he asked. Gunnar stood up and reached the counter. ‘Just after noon. Couple of thieves, Imperial ambush.’ Vilod nodded, thanking the elder man. Gunnar was and always has been the man with the information. No-one knew how he knew of all of the imperial schedules and pursuits, but everyone knew better than to ask.

    ‘So, stormcloacks again, eh?’ Torolf turned off from his beer and looked at Gunnar. ‘Any news on what they were doing, stone-eye?’ Gunnar’s face tightened, but he answered. He didn’t like how Torolf called him. ‘Just doing their routes, I guess!’

    Vilod observed the conversation. Nothing special, he thought. No hints to a major Stormcloack recapture, nothing exciting.

    Midday had just passed as Vilod noticed the noise outside. Here they come, he thought. He walked to the front of his porch and leaned on the fence. He had a great view on the execution from his inn, and it was not long before he recognized most of his friends and the other citizens. Gunnar and Torolf had joined their family and kept their eyes at the gates. Following a battalion of soldiers, the cart made his way to the execution ground. Vilod took notice of a yelling Hamming, eager to see the imperials. It was one of the younger members of a imperial family, and Vilod obviously didn´t like them. ´I wanna watch the soldiers!´ he screamed. Vilod realized that he was one of the children he saw playing earlier today. How gone is this world as children see the soldiers as examples for themselves, Vilod mused.

    The prisoners were told to form ranks and one by one their names were called. The last one you got to hear saying your name was Hadvar, a rather mild edition of the imperial prototype. The captain shouted him back to his task, because he kept going on telling were the remains of the prisoners would end.

    That was one of the few respectful deeds the imperials were able to perform. They were not too far gone to give up on the rituals of death, and throw the remains into the imperial fireplaces.

    A terribly loud noice drew Vilod back to reality. The crowd turned quiet and looked at the sky.

    Most educated Nords knew the dragons were a Legend, a story to scare the kids. But they did get credited for every unaccountable happening, and this shout was no exception. It was raw, yet elegant. Impressive, yet terrifying. Vilod felt the shiver through the bodies of the people of Helgen.

    However, it didn´t stop the Captain to continue her duty´s, and she already gave the headsman order for another finishing blow.

    During the executions, the shout repeated from time to time, and Vilod tried to read the face of Gunnar. But even the man who seemed to know everything, had a face of total incomprehension. It was not a comforting feel that even Gunnar was unable to solve this riddle.

    One of the last to step to the front, got Vilod´s attention. The man had something special to him, a power deep inside. Most people were still looking at the sky, searching for any signs of the source of the noise, but Vilod noticed that Gunnar was also looking at the black haired man, who slowly made his way to the block. Vilod´s glance crossed Gunnar´s, and the fear that was expressed on his face was not to be mistaken. A terrible conclusion crept up to Vilod´s mind, and he began to shake as a cold sea swimmer. The link was made, the noise was not just a lumberjack hitting his toe. From the moment the mysterious man came into sight, Gunnar connected the pieces and created the puzzle.

    The time stood still. Screaming. Crying. Swords being unsheathed. A monstrous stature at the top of the tower. And then….Heat. Fire. Vilod´s skin began to burn. But as he plopped on the ground, as a children´s doll, He noticed that the Dragonborn had made his way to the keep, and he knew that this man would save them all.

    Thank you for reading my first story,