Nuula Dralen

The Nord stared at me for a moment, and I smiled. "Captain.” He said, flustered. “What should we do? She's not on the list"

The officer, a captain apparently, grunted. "Forget the list. She goes to the block."

"By your orders, Captain,” he said, hesitantly. “Follow the Captain, dark elf."

"Ulfric Stormcloak,” Tullius said, only partly to Ulfric himself, I suspect, as he turned away from the jarl and let his eyes wander through the crowd of humans. “Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like The Voice to **** his king and usurp his throne."

The jarl, still gagged, grunted. He didn’t even have to use his voice, because even from a distance, his eyes said everything anyone needed to know.

I wonder what it would look like if he wasn’t muffled, and he could use this Voice to **** the man.

"You started this war,” Tullius continued. “Plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace."

Listen closely now.

The wind turned, and suddenly I heard a deep, rumbling roar on the freezing air.

The Nord shivered. "What was that?"

Tullius gestured dismissively. "It's nothing. Carry on."

"Yes, General Tullius.” The captain nodded, and signaled a robed priestess taking shelter under the tall stone watchtower. “Give them their last rites."

Pay attention to her.

The priestess stepped into the daylight, spread her arms, and turned her face towards the sun. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved...”

One of the Nords snorted and stepped towards the block. "For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with."

The priestess looked stunned as a startled Guar. "As you wish."

She walked off towards what seemed to be a small temple, wooden and thatched, barely large enough to accommodate her alone.

Follow her.

“Come on,” the Nord continued, having reached the chopping block. He was already on his knees. “I haven't got all morning. My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?"

Tullius raised an eyebrow and nodded towards the executioner, who lopped the stormcloak’s head off in one swing. As the captain kicked his lifeless body off the chopping block, another Nord, a female, charged towards the general.

“You Imperial bastards,” she screamed, before she was thankfully silenced by a fist to the stomach.

"Justice,” a man called from the gathered audience, followed by a "**** to the Stormcloaks,” from someone else.

The Nord from my cart lowered his head. "As fearless in **** as he was in life," he said.

“Next,” the captain shouted, right before another roar rolled over the mountains, closer this time.

"There it is again,” the Nord muttered. “Did you hear that?"

"I said, next prisoner. You, uhh…” started the captain, staring at you, before her eyes went wide. “I, uhh…”

Wait for it.

Then, I heard the mighty roar again, and this time I saw its source. At first, I wasn’t sure if it was an illusion, or some sort of alteration spell, but it certainly didn’t look like any Daedra I’ve ever seen. The gruesome black horror swooped down from the mountains, turned its terrible wings, and headed straight towards me.

“What in Oblivion is that?”

“Sentries,” the captain, suddenly waking up from her trance, squealed. “What do you see?”

And then everyone saw it; the dark monster crashed down onto the tower. The gusts it caused made those in front of the tower lose their footing.

Now.

Before they could recover, I sprinted towards the small temple. Behind me, I heard the creature roar, and humans scream in response. I busted through the door, kicked it closed behind me, and saw the priestess jump up.

“What in Arkay’s name…”

“Please help me,” I said, and I grabbed the shrine of her god with my bound hands.

“What is happening? How can I help you?” She barely contained her panic at the rumbling outside.

“You can die,” I said, and I swung the pointed statue into her throat. Her eyes fluttered at the suddenness of it, and her hands meekly grabbed at my arms.

“Priestess,” a soldier called out, “over here.”

As soon as I left the temple, wearing the priestess’ robes, an Imperial spotted me, completely unaware of the gray skin underneath the golden monk’s hood.

“I’ll get you out of here,” he said, and he put me on his horse. “You’re safe now.”

“Thank you,” I said softly. “I could never repay you.”