TTHHHUUUMMMPPP
Valdemar reeled in pain as he felt the sharp, cold pain of the guards boot into his ribcage; instantly awakening him from a feverish sleep. Valdemar heaved in pain while the guard gazed at him with a cool contempt,“Get up you worthless dog, it’s almost time.”
Valdemar could barely see out of his scarred and crusted eyes, and the prison cell seemed ever smaller as each day went by. How many days have I been in here? Valdemar wondered. Or has it been weeks? Even months?
6 months earlier…
As Valdemar meandered up the road towards Riverwood he imagined what it would be like to be home again. Merta would certainly have a feast waiting at home, as they had both looked forward to this reunion since he was last home from the Legion, over 2 years prior. The boys Haesmar and Hrondar will certainly have grown since then, as Hrondar was still suckling when he was last home and Haesmar was barely big enough to hold his grandfathers sword he had gotten for his last name day.
As Valdemar entered into the city he could tell there was an uncomfortable stirring in the air. Small groups of Legion men were walking briskly through the market and the villagers were quick to stay out of their path. One of the men was dragging a woman by her hair through the street, and although she was screaming for someone to help the rest of the village looked on with trepidation and fear. Valdemar was surprised by what he was seeing, he knew that tensions were high when it came to the Legion, what with civil war between Skyrim and Cyrodiil, but he always knew Riverwood was a quaint, peaceful town. Certainly no one here was looking to cause trouble with the Imperial City.
Valdemar, certain that the guards would be willing to reason with a fellow member of the Legion, walked up to the men.“Ho Brother! Please I am a fellow Legionnaire, tell me what this wench has done to deserve this treatment.”
“Begone dog.” The Imperial replied, “Legion or not, you’re still a filthy Nord. You are no longer fit to call me Brother.”
Valdemar was taken aback. While he had heard there was growing mistrust and resentment towards the Nordic people thanks to the Civil War, the men of his unit had always given Valdemar their respect. Valdemar was stunned in silence, while he wanted to fight the Imperial lout for his lack of honor and dignity he knew that it would help no one; Imperial, Nord relations being what they were. Valdemar vowed to go to the local knight protector the next day to ensure the man was reprimanded for his behavior. With the streets beginning to clear as the confrontation was over Valdemar turned towards home.
Valdemar could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he opened the gate to his small cottage. He couldn’t smell bread in the oven nor could he hear the pleasant sound of the boys playing or their mother humming softly in the kitchen. He opened the front door and called out, “Merta…boys?” and that’s when he smelled it. Blood.
Valdemar ran through the entryway and saw a sight to horrific to describe. The kitchen resembled a butcher’s shop and the bodies were badly burnt and disfigured. Valdemar fell to his knees and began to weep. Valdemar, stricken with grief, began to raise his head when he heard men shouting in the yard. He knew that these were the men responsible for the deaths of his entire family, and Valdemar was going to make them pay. He ran to the sitting room, pulled his fathers sword off it’s stand above the fireplace and ran outside; lusting for revenge.
Valdemar nearly fell once he was outside. “Accius, is that you?” Knight-Commander Accius Inius stood outside with a squadron of 10 other Legion men, none of whom Valdemar recognized save for the commander.
“I’m sorry it had to be this way Valdemar … you were an … adequate member of the Legion.”
“DID YOU DO THIS!” screamed Valdemar, “not caring that it was his commanding officer that he spoke to.”
“Of course not Valdemar, I’m not a monster. These men were forced to kill the heathen woman and her ill-begotten children when they refused to cooperate.”
Before Valdemar could utter a single word another Imperial snickered and quietly said, “The little one screamed. Oh how he screamed.”
Valdemar heard nothing. In one fluid motion his sword was unsheathed and the man, whose face went pale with fear, was left quivering on the ground. His bowels spilling out of the gash left in his stomach. Valdemar felt nothing. The world was a blur of flashing steel and red blood splattering Valdemar’s vision. 2 were left dead, then 3, then 4. Valdemar could see Accius’ back as he began to retreat, but as soon as Valdemar began running towards him he felt a crash against his skull. The world was dark.
A few days later…
Valdemar could not sleep. The cell stank of sweat and shit. The guards gave him food once a day but he never ate it. They gave him water but he just left it there. Valdemar was going to die and he didn’t care. It seemed as if the end was near until a familiar face was standing outside his cell one morning. “Hello Valdemar” Accius said, holding a jug of water in his hand. “Don’t think I’m going to let you die you dog. You killed 4 men of the Imperial Legion and stand accused of treason. As there is no need to have a trial in this case you have been sentenced to death.”
Valdemar scarcely listened as he had no intention of living until that inevitable date. Accius flung open the gate to the cell and two other guards stepped in. One walked up to Valdemar and threw a quick jab through his jaw. CRACK. The men grabbed him by both arms and held his mouth open. Accius forced the jug into his mouth and poured. Valdemar thought he would drown but Accius stopped and cracked him across the head with the jug. As Valdemar lay on the ground dazed Accius spoke, “We’ll do this everyday until you decide you’ll drink by yourself. You don’t want to see what will happen if you don’t eat.”
6 months later
Valdemar slowly began to unroll off the ground, his muscles atrophied to the point where he was sure he looked nothing like the Legionnaire of his past. Valdemar slowly and carefully stood up, knowing that the day had finally come. The day he could finally die.
This is the background story for my first character, Valdemar the Nord. Feel free to comment if you like the story, and thanks to Vix for helping me flesh out my ideas!
Comments