A Khajiit's Surprise (Skyrim pt 1)
This story series will be based off of my personal ventures whilst playing the new Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, by the company Bethesda. I do not own any characters or products that are part of the Elder Scrolls saga, this is my ventures, which most everyone must go through at the beginning. Enjoy.
A lone traveler awoke, bound as if prisoner in the back of a caravan, being taken to a small village visible in the distance. He tried to recollect everything that had happened recently. He was making a trip to Whiterun of Skyrim when he was caught in the middle of an ambush set by the Imperial army, capturing several Stormcloak rebels and himself in the process. While he was unharmed, he was still taken prisoner, just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
The year was 4E 201, and he, a Khajiit, was in Skyrim to sell his wares and make some profit. He knew the business trade, and he didn't want to be in his homeland of Elswyr to do his trading. With a civil war raging in Skyrim, he saw it fit that people needed wares of varying degrees to conduct battle or business, sometimes both. He was white with black paint in the form that would closely resemble the Snow Mountain Lion of Skyrim, making him standout, even amongst his kin.
After a few moments, a Nord across from him looked at the cat, starting a conversation. "I do not know which city you hail from, but at least you might make it to Sovngarde. We go now to Helgen, where we will meet our fate."
The Nord looked to his right, and the Khajiit's eyes followed, seeing someone in Stormcloak colors, but was gagged in addition to his bindings. "That is Ulfric Stormcloak, rightful ruler of Skyrim."
"You mean the leader of the rebels against the Imperial Army?" The cat asked modestly, hearing the name Ulfric many times as he trekked through Cyrodiil to come to Skyrim. He did not mean it in any disrespect, but only to clarify things. Hearing about Ulfric is one thing, seeing the man himself was another.
"Aye, some would say that, but for a just cause. Thanks to the White-Gold Concordat, the worship of Talos was outlawed, which any true Nord would not forsake. To us Stormcloaks, there are still Nine Divines, not Eight." The rebel responded as another Nord awoke in his bindings.
"Wh-where are we? Where are we headed?" He asked in confusion.
"From the scenery and the direction of the sun, we are headed to Helgen, probably to be executed." The Khajiit replied dryly, looking down the road again. The village was closer, but wasn't too close.
"This isn't right! I'm not with the Stormcloaks!" The captive human spouted out of panic, obviously hiding something of his past.
"You... you're a horsethief... at least have the dignity to die with some honor before you go to Sovngarde." The Stormcloak stated blatantly before turning back to the cat. "You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, correct?"
The trader nodded, keeping to himself for now, his green eyes noting other Imperials riding up to the caravan as they drew closer to the village, and ultimately, their fate at the axe. His ears twitched in irritation at the thief's frantic pleas of innocence from being connected to the Stormcloaks, but he knew how the Empire operated, if you commit a crime, you are either locked in a cell or beheaded, there was no use arguing one's own innocence in this time and age.
Sighing softly, he closed his eyes, remembering tales from his father in Elswyr how one of his ancestors helped the late Martin Septim reclaim his throne before using the Amulet of Kings to become the avatar of Akatosh to stop the Oblivion Crisis and Mehrunes Dagon from enslaving all of Tamriel. Despite having helped the last of the Septim line, he was meagerly rewarded with few items that were lost over the last two centuries, and he also knew that his family enjoyed time with the other races, for Mara's sake, his uncle married an Argonian!
A strong Imperial voice broke his train of thought and drew his attention to a grizzled veteran riding a steed equipped with some armor for horses, his own armor betraying his rank of General. The Imperial Army was quite known to be the strong arm of Empirical Law, and very strongly tied to protecting the Emporer when possible. But the general kept eyeing the captive Ulfric, as if he had won the civil war in a few strong moves.
Looking back to the road ahead, he noticed that the gates of Helgen were opening for the prisoners and soldiers, then he looked back to the rebel, trying to gleam a bit of knowledge on current events. Hearing it through Cyrodiil was one thing, but getting it from the horse's mouth was another, better to get facts straight rather than through the vineyard and pubs, as his mother had taught him, a wonderful woman of Nord standing.
"Here we are... Helgen... had a lass here last I stopped by... probably married already too..." was all the Nord had to offer before the caravan rounded a bend in the road and stopped, everyone being ordered out of the back. The horse thief decided to run when his name was called, getting a good fifteen arrows in the back before he made ten paces up the road.
When he was called forward, one of the soldiers noted that there was no Khajiit on the list, but his superior, a strong Nord woman who wouldn't take no for an answer on such things, said to scribe his name on the list. When asked his name, all he said was Flame, for his father and mother noted his passion during sparring sessions with a wooden blade. He wasn't skilled, but he had the passion to improve, and the ability to do well.
"I'm sorry you got caught up in this all, I'll make sure your remains are sent back to Elswyr." was all the soldier said before the Khajiit was moved amongst the rest of the prisoners.
A name was called, the rebel he had spoke with before stood forward, determination in his gaze, but also a bit of rest wanted in his face. He kneeled down and laid his head on the chopping block, saying that Skyrim's people will always remember Talos. A roar was heard far off, though it wasn't any kind of roar that even Nords could place. The female soldier said to continue with the execution, and the rebel's head was severed from his neck in one fell move from a sharpened axe, now lying in a basket.
Another roar was heard, sounding closer to Flame as he looked around, then to the sky, but seeing nothing. Fear and worry crept within his body as he wondered what sort of creature had these Nords worried and confused.
"Next, the cat!" was what drew his attention and he went forward, seeing the head in the back, the face against the bottom of the basket, easing his nerves a little before turning his head to look the executioner in the face. He always said that when he should die by a blade, he wanted to see the person's face, or at least, look them in the eye. As he was lowered, he saw something massive land on the building behind the soldier with the axe as he raised the heavy weapon, a massive wave of force pushing all there back, knocking the Khajiit face first into the dirt.
When he managed to look up and get to his feet, he rushed over to a building to hide. Was that... a dragon? Stories and legends from the first era coming back? He didn't have much time to ponder as he felt the overwhelming heat that would make Elswyr feel like a frozen wasteland overwhelm him, even though the flames themselves hadn't touch his furred body. He noticed someone motioning him to follow, and he hurried with all haste, his claws still bound.
Upon reaching to the person, he realized it was a Stormcloak. He didn't care much about this civil war, he only wanted to survive right now, and was lead through a building to the top floor, where another building could be seen, and was told to leap there, the others would catch up to him before too long. After leaping to the other building, he rushed down and was met by the same soldier who promised to return his body back home.
"Still alive I see, we'll make for the storehouse, it's the safest place right now." He said as he darted across the street, the cat hot on his heels as another intense burst of flame nearly caught his tail. He decided to keep his eyes on the soldier's back, not caring about much of anything else as they ran through the streets and entered the warehouse, the door closing soundly behind them.
After taking a few moments to breathe, the soldier released Flame of his bindings and told him to grab some gear, preferably armor and the iron sword on the shelf. He decided to go with some iron armor as well, liking the ability to protect himself rather than move around. He also managed to pick up a shield, knowing how invaluable it was to block an attack rather than recieve it head on.
Afterwards, he was lead down a winding staircase, into a torture chamber, sending cold chills down his spine. The Khajiit didn't like torture, even for vital information, and set about to getting some potions and lockpicks. Upon seeing something in a cell, he quickly moved to pick the lock, picking up a spell book that, upon reading, was about a small Destruction spell, known simply as Sparks. With a little bit of knowledge in his mind, he moved with the Imperial further into the dungeon, finding an opening, and several 'guests' who were more than ready to kill him, even though he had not chosen sides.
After they were quickly dispatched, he decided to pick up the bow and quiver one of the bodies had, having shown natural talent for the bow in his youth. They slowly moved deeper into the caverns, taking a few other Stormcloaks out along the way, and came upon a Frostbite Spider chamber, where a rather large spider dropped down and greet them with it's venom. Flame quickly dodged the projectile and moved it, trading a few blows with the large creature, blocking a few of the bites, before it fell, leaving him somewhat exhausted and bleeding.
After taking a few potions, the Imperial urged them to move onward, finally getting out of the caverns and onto the road. He decided to stick with the soldier, despite nearly being beheaded by the Imperials, and traded some small talk, finding out that it really was a dragon and not just a brief moment of hallucination before death. Apparently they weren't being chased by the massive black beast, so they kept their speed at a fast walk, giving them time to breathe and relax a little.
He then began to wonder just what all of this was about, and if dragons were really coming back, how and why now? With so many new questions on his mind, he began to confuse himself, which was a rare occurance for him. And was this civil war really about the 'treaty' that was signed by the current Emporer when he was left with no other choice by the Aldmeri Dominion? With so many questions, the Khajiit figured he'd get the answers, just not as fast as he would have wanted it. Skyrim, it seems, was getting a bit more interesting to the cat.