Rolls-in-Hay

The big, burly Nord eyed me for a moment. "Captain. What should we do? She's not on the list."

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

"By your orders, Captain,” the big man said. “Follow the Captain, prisoner."

"Ulfric Stormcloak,” the silver general spoke, with fiercely grey eyes. “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."

Ulfric, still tied up, groaned. He didn’t even have to use his voice, because even from a distance, his deep blue eyes said everything anyone needed to know. If he could, he wouldn’t have hesitated to take Tullius down.

"You started this war,” Tullius continued, as if he had read same thing in the jarl’s eyes I had. “Plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace."

The wind turned to caress my scales, and suddenly I heard a deep, rumbling groan on the crisp air.

The Nord trembled. "What was that?"

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

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

The priestess stepped into the light, spread her arms, and turned her face upwards. "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..."

A tough-looking Nord interrupted her. "For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with."

The priestess was shaken. "As you wish."

“Come on,” the stormcloak continued. 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 took out his big weapon and sent it into the man’s throat. The lovely captain then pushed him aside, but another stormcloak charged forward.

“You Imperial bastards,” she screamed, before she was silenced by one of the soldiers.

The crowds approved of how the soldier handled the woman, and cheered.

"As fearless in **** as he was in life," a man next to me said.

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

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

"I said, next prisoner," the captain said, “The Argonian”

The Nord threw me a sad look. "I’m sorry girl,” he said. “On your knees. Nice and easy."

I stepped forward to the man with the big weapon. The block was still wet from the previous prisoner. I got on my knees, and waited for the man to take what he wanted. I groaned a little, awaiting his tool, and I saw my life flash before my eyes. If I somehow wondrously escaped my predicament, I swore on the Hist, I would spend my time making the world a happier place.

For a third time, I heard the mighty groan, and this time I saw its source. Back then, I wasn’t sure if it was a really big bird, or a really big cliff racer. I did know that it was headed straight towards me.

I heard the silver general shout. “What in Oblivion is that?”

“Sentries,” the lovely captain called. “What do you see?”

All I saw, was the headsman’s gigantic tool looming overhead. I swallowed at the size of the thing; it was even bigger up close. I prayed to Sithis it wouldn’t hurt too much. Then, the dark monster crashed down onto the tower. The tower pulsed, and it caused the headsman to drop to the floor, trembling. Before he could recover, the creature opened its mouth, and the excitement got the better of me.