Children of No One's - 1 - On the Thread of Fate

For a long time I wandered through the woods trying to remember in practice what it was like to hunt and eat something still throbbing in my teeth, that thick blood mixed with bone chips as the icy wind hits my face making me want to go back to where I was banished long ago, where there was only horkers and the most scaly fish in a fire that will almost be extinguished by the cold that seemed to weaken the bones and by the wind that managed to cut my skin. Yes, that was my home.

I covered myself with the dense fur on my coats, on my legs boots thick like the trunk that kept my memory of a shelter. Today my skin has gotten used to everything, the few scars no longer exist, because my skin has thickened so much like a rock, from pain . I was just a wretch who walked from village to village, door to door. I miss my friends.

Yes, I had friends in the gallop of the waves of the seas, of Mother Sea. Of the only mother who was the sea. They taught me everything I know about crossing paths, facing dangers, surrounding myself with doubts about the intentions of a naive smile, a beautiful body, and that's why I wanted to walk my path alone, to be in places I couldn't before. For being a skinny bodyguard for an excellent smuggler. I was experiencing the deep waters that he knew how cruel, It was trying to be honest that I came to know how deep, cruel, sneaky the sea was and how it plays many tricks, because it was in the veil of the waters that I was taken to my inquisitors.

A man who had almost forgotten his own name, the nature of the disgrace he carries, suddenly found himself in the fate of an ax that was of a justice that weighed on only one side of the scale. But they didn't want to know, a large man on trial amidst armed soldiers judged as a vagabond who wanted to cross the border. Assholes push me in the same basket as the warriors who fought for freedom, to die with them.

For the honorable Empire I was almost grateful that I would no longer suffer on moonlit nights, for not sleeping without feeling pain and agony, much less tasting raw and thick flesh bittering my awakening. Or, at least, the honorable Empire thought I should have that honor.

*The sun timidly appeared between the clouds, the wind was sharp as it should be in a good place in Skyrim, between woods and broken and worn stone roads for so many times receiving the hard weight of carts, troops and wars, once again I witnessed of wagons that carried honorable warriors to where their lives would be extinguished. The rocking of that structure was dizzying and nauseating for those who were not used to it, sounds of vomiting echoed through the woods and the smell of horse shit mingled with the anguished feeling of fear of many and pride of few, for having their lives on the line, but with the certainty that something greater awaited them. *

*In the escort, imperial soldiers led by a general whose expression of duty accomplished was almost disguised by a victorious look from a man who accomplished his mission well, beside him, his soldiers with expressions of judgment ready to take those who would be the trash removed of a problem that grew too much, whose minds used to dying days were just marching to what they knew how to do and were trained for it, even the horses seemed to tread heavier, the carriage seemed firmer, victory was relative and curious to each be that was there*

The prisoner asks himself: Yes, my vision blurred, I had pains that were not just the usual ones, they were burning blows, cowardly blows delivered when my consciousness was almost lost, I could feel the memory of the blow, but not the face that wounded me in the dam n moment. My axes were in the ass of one of these obedient beings of the Empire, who once again did his job well, and that's not a compliment

*The animals that passed by were witnesses, the trees that the wind swayed and that even made entire branches fall were about to be complicit in the imperial work, the eyes of that man who was sitting there and did not match the others due to his physique size finally opened. They were blurry, eyes that were a mixture of dry tears and smudges of a face that for a long time has not known what fresh water is on them, facing a soldier who, despite death, who embraced him with all his tentacles, smiled kindly and greeted me like an old friend.*

Ralof: Hey you, you finally woke up...

You were trying to cross the border, weren't you? And he fell into this imperial ambush, with us and this thief.

The prisoner thinks: I could only manage a wry smile, for someone who was so used to running away and facing danger suddenly finds himself at an end there, sitting, for falling into a trap due to his exhaustion. because he was doing what he was so used to doing, he was betrayed for being just a being who got tired, exhausted himself, like every mortal who is trapped, I just had to take a deep breath, accepting that there could be the thread he was about to face defenseless

*Just ahead, in the right part of his gaze, a thief was right in a mixture of fear and fury, as if he didn't accept what fate might have prepared for him. like every good man loving life, or fearing remorse for the mistakes that only death can give him at the end that begins.*

Lokir: Damn Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you guys showed up. The empire was good and lazy

Prisoner reflected: I don't know why, but the man with the gag in his mouth breathing deeply after the thief's speech sounded terribly funny, I must be going crazy

Lokir: If they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell.

Hey! You. You and I shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the empire wants.

Ralof: We're all brothers and sisters prisoners now, thief

Imperial Soldier: "Shut up there!"

Lokir: And what's wrong with him, huh?

Ralof: Watch your tongue. You are speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King.

Prisoner reflects: Ulfric Stormcloak? The man who represents the honor and morals of these soldiers who march to their death and, his gaze seems serene despite everything, dying for what he believes in must be something fantastic. Because I don't know that in life...

Lokir: Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You are the leader of the rebellion. But if they captured him... Oh gods, where are they waiting for us?

Ralof: "I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde is waiting for us."

Prisoner reflected: In that moment he realized that it was Sovngarde that motivated them to face the end of each story with calm, it was that it impelled them to walk with passion, driving through the valley of death so deeply while admiring the disgusting back of the cart driver that half for the tormentor who was prepared for another execution that would make that morning with a cloudy sky.

Will Sovngarde wait for me too?

Lokir: "No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening!"

Ralof: Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?

Lokir: "Why do you care?"

Ralof: A Nord's last thoughts must be at home.

Prisoner reflects: I wonder what was my home until then, was it the village on an icy island, where my neighbors were Nordic traditionalists in their customs and an image of creator of everything?

It was the ice, the walruses, the fish and the forest that I had to learn to call home, as soon as I got lucky with a badly healed wound in my chest, whose only will to live accepted being a guinea pig for a will. of someone who made me bend the knees and call him "dad", thus giving me the opportunity to be the game that learned to be a voracious hunter, out of sheer necessity?

It was a ship of my good old smuggler friend, along with three other different beings that one day made me want to call them brothers, although I was doing something that I wasn't proud of doing, and that only now makes me see how I loved them, contrary to their thoughts and stories and pain. Where we bleed, smile, drink, work and meet beautiful women together. About the oath in the twilight after the dizziness from so much mead.

Where must my last confused thoughts go now?

Lokir: Rorikstead. I'm... I'm from Rorikstead.

Ralof: Oh yes, good land, good people...

*The calm moment of the almost tearful and trembling voice of the thief vanished when the soldier who was in the village guardhouse that the wagons entered shouted in a firm and authoritative tone of voice*

GENERAL TULLIUS, SR! THE EXECUTIONER IS WAITING!

*In a firm, authoritative, but more measured tone of voice, the imposing general in golden armor, with an air still sovereign in his eyes, just responds*

Tullius: Great. Let's get this over with.

Lokir: Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me.

*How clear was the fear of the miserable horse thief*

Ralof: Look at him, General Tullius, the military governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they have something to do with it.

This is Helgen. I used to get along really well with a girl from here. I still wonder if Vilod is making that mead with Juniper Berries.

Funny, when I was a boy, imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe

Haming: "Who are they, Daddy? Where are they going?"

Torolf: Son, come home now

Haming: But Dad, I so wanted to see the soldiers.

Torolf: What did I say?

Haming: All right, Dad.

Imperial Army Captain: Get the prisoners out of the wagon, now!

Soldier: Yes captain

Lokir: Why are we stopping?

Ralph: Why do you think? End of the line. Let's hurry. We must not keep the gods waiting for us.

Lokir: No! Wait! We are not rebels!

Ralof: Face your death with some courage, thief.

Lokir: You have to tell them! We weren't with you! That's a mistake!

Imperial Captain: Take a step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time.

Ralof: The empire loves your goddamn lists.

Hadvar: "Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm.

Ralof: "It was an honor to serve alongside you, Jarl Ulfric!

Prisoner Admires: The Jarl of Windhelm's fearless seriousness is truly astonishing, a look that seems not to regret whatever things may have been done or imputed in his name. The bravery to mark death is to marvel at whatever wretch is looking at the executioner's merciless axe.

Hadvar: Ralof of Riverwood.

Prisoner reflects: Ralof just smiled, the joy of a man who not only walked towards the valley of death, but headed towards it with a sense of accomplishment, something completely satisfying for any nord, I sincerely miss thinking I can be dying for something, if I could go back, maybe defending an ideal would be a perfect way for a being forgotten by the world to defend, to be remembered.

The prisoner, lost in his thoughts, is startled by the desperate cries of fleeing his destiny.

Lokir: No, I'm not a rebel. You can not do that!

Captain: Stop! it's an order.

Lokir: You can kill me!

Captain: Archers!

Anyone else want to run?

*The experienced archers fired their arrows causing the horse thief's body to be riddled with the icy spikes of death piercing skin, flesh, bones, easily tearing them apart, a howling scream of pain only makes those present understand that it was a decision agonizingly wrong, her body drops heavily, specks of dust are kicked up on impact, her face drops heavily, blood from the affected parts and also in the form of a temporary sphere comes out of her mouth when she involuntarily opens it by the disobedience of a body losing its functions *

Prisoner is impressed with the little thought and desperate fact of the poor horse thief and thinks: Poor devil, he could never have thought that this was an inevitable path for everyone, his body there all wounded by well-aimed arrows, which not only incapacitated him but slowly stealing his life was a stupid, desperate act of someone who perhaps didn't think he was going to die, a sin we all think about, that immortality embraces us when death is not considered.

Hadvar: Wait.

You there. Take a step forward.

Who are you?

Prisoner reflects: I could have said so many things at that moment to that poor guy who was just following orders. It could have made an intimidating look, a frightening pose, or even disdain.

So many things I could have said, that I belong to a guard that I don't really know how it works, that I am the chaos of the icy forests of an island that for many years no longer belongs to the people of Skyrim, that I am the terror of all legends, and that all beings fear the being that is called Skepna by the one who through the forest claims to protect me, but I decided only in a grunt almost growling, which was all my thirsty and hungry throat managed to emit, a name came from my lips that I thought I had forgotten they had baptized me.

Kjetil...

Hadvar: I'm sorry this is a bad time to return to Skyrim, compatriot.

Kjetill: I am not your countryman, I am a Skaal...

Hadvar: Hmm... Captain, what are the orders? He's not on the list.

Captain: Forget the list, he will taste our axe.

Hadvar: Your orders captain

I'm sorry, what a sad circumstance to meet someone like you.

Follow the captain

Kjetill then reflects: Circumstances, so many circumstances could keep me away from today, but I can't complain, even though I have to be a child of the woods and hunting, I lived by myself, with icy freedom in my hair, having calluses and wounds instead of gloves, as an old friend once whispered to me "a man's glove is the calluses of work, so such circumstances which this obedient soldier put on my head never existed, for I have always been free and free will I die, so like these people. Is that a good reason to die? for the freedom that circumstances have given me...

*Kjetill saw General Tullius approach Jarl Ulfic with his chest puffed out and with a certain insolence in his eyes, as if there he decreed the end of that gagged man, and another victory for the empire*

General Tullius: Ulfric Stormcloak. Here in Helgen these people consider him a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the "Voice" to name himself King and usurp his throne.

*Kjetill before questioning himself about anything, he heard the grunts of that man who was about to be murdered for being what we understand as a regicide, some Nords were somehow laughing, which made Tullius furious and raises his voice to show some anger*

General Tullius: You started this war, plunging Skyrim into chaos and now the Empire will crush you and finally restore peace.

Kjetill just whispers: This little dick in the ass...

*The skies echo a fierce roar, which resounds the corners of that place that would already be our final destination, the earth was shaking, what could it be, the wind increased, everyone's hair shook violently and the helmet of some imperial soldiers had to be held with the hands so that they do not fall to the ground and everyone instantly looks to all directions where the view can see from the sky.

Hadvar: What was that?

General Tullius: It's nothing. Continue.

Captain: Yes, General Tullius

Give them their last rites

* So said the captain to start the end of each being that was there with their destiny about to be closed in the hand of the executioner. I took a deep breath and could only look at the ironically beautiful cloud of Skyrim at that moment, like the cold nights of my beloved land, which was so ungrateful to me, but that inside me a nostalgic feeling hit me in that heart of mine that didn't know the memory of such a feeling*

Priestess of Arkay: "While we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings from the Eight Divines be upon you, for you are the salt and land of Nirn, our beloved..."

*Behold, the voice of the soldier who was about to be executed, in an angry tone only exalts*

Stormcloak Trooper: For Talos' sake, shut up and let's get this over with.

Priestess of Arkay: As you wish.

*Due to the at least unimputable situation, some of them laughed lightly, between tears of death that the beginning and a sentence in the mood of that brave soldier, was a warmth amid the smell of the end that invaded my nostrils and made me lose the timelines of my vague memories*.

Stormcloak Trooper: Come on, in case you didn't know, I don't have all morning.

*Pushed by the captain's foot, he demonstrates one foot on top of the cold stone, he demonstrates a smile as he looks at his car angrily and asks*

Stormcloak Soldier: My ancestors smile at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?

* The executioner did his work, and mercilessly raised the ax of justice which he thinks he wisely obeys and plunges it into the neck of the soldier who died there, the sound of steel cutting the skin, then the bones, mixing with the blood that came out and dripped on the blade of the axe, on the steel of the captain's boot, that the dead body she pushed with her foot, whose head fell quickly into the wooden box, sounding the crack of the same when the decapitation was done and the hair hit the wooden walls of that container*

*Some people shouted that the imperials were dogs, and others decreed the death of the soldiers who were there, who were called after the name of their leader. the Stormcloaks *

Ralof: As brave in death as he was in life.

* As soon as that body gave its last spasms of life, as if the sky were revolted by such an act it was again roaring echoed at the sound of such a demonic animal, that any imposing warrior would feel the urine come out of his penis and run down his legs, again there the earth shook, feeling the wooden structures of the houses creak and shake, the wind seemed to increase even more intensity, again everyone's attention turned to infinity blocked by gray clouds of a sky that seems to be warning everyone of something, however in a completely protocolized act, is ignored*

Hadvar: Again this, what would it be anyway?

General Tulius: I already told you it's nothing, and get on with it as quickly as possible, I'm already impatient.

Captain: Yes sir General. next prisoner

Hadvar: To the prisoner block, take it easy, please.

*Kjetil between whispers and thoughts just says: I don't have many options, do I?

*As he prepares to finally abandon his brief life, he makes what he thought was his last reflection: I think this time I can't try to escape anymore, so many times I've run away from the unfair bars of authoritarian men, I swallow saliva for the last time , just as the last gusts of fresh air enter my lungs. I'll feel the wind on my face and my eyes will close soon, after all, I think I'm tired of trying to run away, of fearing that the next look that hits my face will recognize me and scream my name to the nearest guard. I won't be able to dream anymore of my mother's face crying as my father ruthlessly agreed with our Shaman, and kicked me out of our village having only 15 full moons. I don't think I have any reason to think about my few friends from that place anymore, let alone that good imperial smuggler who suspiciously welcomed me, and drunk on the last trip called me brother. I can't complain, for a damn piece of existence I've lived long enough, eaten the best food, fought the greatest battles, slept with women as beautiful as the sun that invades the twilight to breathe new life into this world. I don't have to cry anymore, even though the captain's foot seems to be slow tapping my back so that I kneel before my executioner, who certainly sees me as one of many who will be thrown like carrion into unmarked holes. Soon my head would be in that wooden box next to the Nordic lover. I feel that we will not go together to the gates of Shor... Would that be my will? Because I ask myself, I have no way of answering myself anymore. There is no more crying or longing, if life is made of guilt and regret, I have always lived the exception of that. Maybe it's the only thing that motivates me in my inevitable end.

*With a completely neutral expression the executioner watches Kjetill knowing he was about to pass sentence as he has done so many times in his entire life as an executioner, it was just his work, morbid, sordid and natural, how death is treated by those who know that one day she hugs us affectionately, about to lift her ax to finally put an end to that story he didn't know, again the roar that before seemed from the sky this time sounded closer, from the clouds a black and red shape appeared , and the screams of that mighty throat were deafening, all the living bodies present there trembled just with the vibration of the sound that looked like a throat from hell that ironically opened from the sky, did that look like a winged death, or was it just delirium?*

* It was something completely unexpected, its wings spread as a prelude to certain death, it greeted in its majestic grandeur its own arrival, the sensation of terror and horror it provoked there. Some men of courage before extolled by themselves, felt the middle of their buttocks dripping shit between their legs that already lost their movement, falling like this sitting where they were, I think no living being could imagine something of such greatness, and in a way beauty, the uplifted ax of the executioner that seemed so imposing and implacable, surrendered to a heavy, shaky landing that split the walls of the stone structure that held that creature black as the darkness of death's sights, and red as the liquid of life that was about to leave the body of the already delivered Kjetill. the earth shook, a scream like thunder torn and furious was sounded, the ears of those present absorbed the sound like a sharp point wrapped around other small razors that tore to the brain. it was something that made some heads shake, thinking they might even explode. That sovereign executioner there fell with a child before the grandeur of that terribly frightening being. The forces that were once extinct had a survival, Kjetill's legs in an attempt to get up tried to stay there when a Stormcloak soldier shouted: A DRAGON!!!!

*His scream that looked like thunder made the wind that before seemed strong, intensified to the point that Kjetill fell to his knees again, and also knocking down other people who gathered a little sense to seek shelter in the midst of the world that seemed to end. It was a strong jet that lifted a wall of thick dust and dislodged stones that for hundreds of years had been nailed to the ground as if they were a mere paperweight. As if one even louder scream was enough, the sky changed to a reddish hue like it hadn't been for centuries for those elven eyes that then witnessed such an event, and gigantic stones fell from the sky, it was the end of the world for many. Tulius, still gathering strength to try to understand such a situation, in a desperate cry ordered: Someone kill that thing!!!!

*The Gods would be there in a bizarre way they were giving me a new chance to live, a strange and terrible sign that my time would come, or that ceremony of death and terror angered the Gods to the point that we no longer deserve this land, then thought Kjetill with eyes covered in dirt, blurred trying to understand such a scene, he felt arms lifting him so hard, he didn't understand if it was all part of the same reality, then he understood, it was Ralof*

Ralof: Hey man, get up! Come on, the Gods won't give us another chance!

*Ralof pulled the astonished Kjetill by the ropes that bound him, with surprising calm, as if the desperation of a gigantic fire-breathing creature right behind them could save them from inevitable death at the hands of the executioner, burning women to their torn bodies. with the hot tongues that came out of the flames of the dragon's mouth, along with small children easily dropped dead not only by the hot carpet, but also possibly by fear, whose male arms that could remain were being devoured by the heat and fire that covered any creature. live like an impenetrable wall. *

* Up ahead was a tower, where Ulfric Stormcloak was also without his gag and his bonds. There were also burned bodies from failed attempts at survival, one soldier tending the wounds of another on the ground. Burnt viscera mixed with pieces of spiked wood only added a grotesque touch to that atypical scene*

Ralof: Jarl Ulfric! What is it? Could legends be real?

*One wise answer that only the obviousness of a man who was used to horror, like the seasoned warrior that every Jarl demonstrates or proves to be, answers in a deep, echoing voice*

Jarl Ulfric: Legends don't burn villages.

Ralof: Go up the tower, come on!

Stormcloak: They're wounded, but they'll live. One more second out there with the dragon, and they would both be dead...

*Ralof seeing that Kjetill still looked very astonished, he just said in a firm tone of voice as he walked towards her patting his shoulder*

Ralph: Let's go! With me, climb the tower!

*going up the stairs in a "snailed" corridor there were many stones in the way that blocked the passage, stones that collapsed from the tremor of the meteors that fell there*

Stormcloak: We just need to move some of those rocks to clear the way!

*After the end of the sentence, the brave soldier who had gone up with Ralof and Kjetill before didn't count that the wall would break making the stones that were so protective before, they killed him when they smashed him against the wall instantly, as if he didn't kill a huge wall of flames was spewed by the dragon which had left no doubt about the man's fate, the heat even from afar seemed to make the skin melt and burn, leaving small slivers of smoke from Kjetill's rags. Kjetill didn't understand, because he clearly heard what sounded like "Fire Hell sun", he didn't understand, why a dragon would say that... he thought he was hallucinating there, in the face of terror*

*The dragon was only lucky once more to Kjetill victimize only one poor Stormcloak soldier, so he flew, in what was previously a heat that from afar was already burning the skin of the two survivors, the walls that had a huge hole. were even more punished, with some stones still on fire and sparks*

Ralof: "See the inn on the other side? Jump across the roof and continue!

*Between the huge hole there was actually an inn that you could barely see the hole that was also made in the ceiling, it was a great distance and height to jump, but that didn't scare Kjetill at that time of this completely atypical day, but that Ralof looked like wouldn't follow you*

Kjetill: How so? This is you? Will you stay? You are crazy??

Ralph: Go! We will follow you when we can!

*Kjetill on protest ended up accepting, taking a deep breath, taking a short distance, ran with his feet completely bare on the hot stones of the terrible dragon's flames, and from the cloud of smoke that came out of the crater he could see a big blond man jumping like a madman fleeing hell to get to the other side, the inn opened by a place that wasn't a door and wasn't even written "welcome" but it was what welcomed his awkward landing, with his legs touching the wooden floor that due to the weight of Kjetill multiplied with the height from which he was jumping, it sounded like cracked and some parts even broke, and also causing that prisoner to fall doing an involuntary somersault on the floor sliding in pain to the hole that was on the second floor, who barely and with difficulty kept himself safe with his hands over the edge of the hole, to absorb the second impact, but the inertia made him swing forward like a pendulum, and with his barrel ga hitting the ceiling on the first floor of the inn (second floor floor) made his hands lose their firmness and made him fall on his back to the clean floor, one more pain among the others added, which could only sketch a painful and trembling complain*

Kjetill: The ax edge wasn't a bad idea.

Hadvar: "Haming, you need to come here. Now! Torolf!"

*The dragon again spit its flame of fire that only the glow of the flames would almost blind anyone who passed by.*

Hadvar: Gods, get back. All. BACK!

*Getting up to try to sit, to steady his legs to propel him to his feet, through the front door he saw Hadvar bravely trying to protect a gentleman an old man and possibly his grandson from the footsteps that looked like tremors of the end that were the footsteps of that black man Dragon. *

Hadvar: Back prisoner, back from me.

Alduin: "Yol ... Toor ... Shul"

Hadvar: Still alive, prisoner? Stay close to me if you want to go on like this. Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join their defense.

Gunnar: Gods guide you, Hadvar.

Hadvar: Stand near the prisoner wall.

*Kjetill was patiently following the orders of the then worried, attentive and angry Hadvar, and following close to the wall so that dragon wouldn't victimize us. But he lands on top of the wall that seemed to be safe in the midst of that hell, his wings were between us, and they looked as big and hard as a fortified tower, only there Kjetill can see the black scales, and visibly hard as rocks. centenarians that are embedded in the mountains, where the red skin of the dragon seemed to pulse, like the hot breath of the same that prepared another intense and hot jet of flames that possibly could have victimized even more people who were unsuccessfully trying to escape.

There was Tullius in a mixture of fighting stance and also worried about the mages who were somehow stopping that huge winged being with scaly skin, next to him were soldiers and civilians wounded, dead and some trying to help in some way. All were mixed together in the fire, bodies, dismembered limbs whose bodies might have been devoured or pulverized. the imposing Imperial general amidst the scenery that not even his worst nightmares could have drawn it in his snoring*

Hadvar: Quick prisoner, follow me!

Tullius: Hadvar! To the fortress, soldier, we're leaving!

Hadvar: It's you and me, prisoner. Stay close!

*While Hadvar found a way out of that hellish turmoil alongside Kjetill, along the Norse laurel his companion and also found his savior for sure, made him smile in relief to learn that the brave Stormcloak soldier was alive, at the same time, Hadvar, showing fury and fear, screamed at the top of his lungs wanting to be heard amid so many desperate screams, pain, deafening flames and buildings in total collapse.*

Hadvar: Ralph! You damn traitor. Get out of my way!

*Ralof has a beautiful two-handed ax in his hand that not only survived, but seems to rearm very easily*

* There was disappointment, fear, anger, rancor, hurt in that exchange of looks that seemed eternal, two opposing sides that seemed to be much stronger than any bond of friendship, complicity, brotherhood and fraternity, even with the possible death of all by the claws of that one. fearsome dragon, they still had time and disposition to put their weapons ready to attack what was already broken long before we knew if this movement that followed the war was enough for something that stands out that was strong was so, so crushed*

Ralof: We're on the run, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time.

Hadvar: All right. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde.

Ralof: You! Let's go, to the fortress!

Kjetill then reflects: Two possible friends separated by ideologies, politics, leaders, their voices carried sadness, pain, rancor, a certain longing. I wish I had the ability to say anything that would make them run away from this terrible end together, but here I say goodbye to this Hadvar, who seems to have chosen a wrong side disguised as honorable, because after all he would choose a side that trapped me without even me asking who I was, tortured me even with myself without my senses, threw me like a sack of shit on a cart trapped without a charge. Ralof strikes me as a good man, and I can feel I could follow him anywhere, including my maybe second chance, as he said the Gods gave us. I would very much like Talos to finally look out for me, even though I am a curse.

*The fortress was just ahead and Ralof, seeing that Kjetill followed him, opened a relieved and happy smile, and together they desperately sought refuge, opening the huge doors of the place that also, even from afar, burned with the heat of the flames that burned everywhere. , the two felt as if they were inside a huge bonfire that enveloped all of Helgen, it was even a relief that inside the dark walled structure there were no flames, scorching heat, much less screams of innocent dying. How Kjetill wanted to take the moment to try to understand what was going on. Who knows how to rest, but impatient Ralof saw one of his compatriots dead on the floor on the side of the structure, and there he knelt a little sad*

Ralof: We'll meet soon in Sovngarde, brother.

*Breathes deeply and tries to compose himself both in feeling and bodily, keeping himself upright again*

Ralof: Looks like we were the only ones who managed to escape.

That thing out there is a dragon. Undoubtedly. As in the legends and stories that our parents and our grandparents told us as children. The announcement of the end of time.

Kjetill: If the end times were announced today, may the Gods watch over us when it really is.

Ralof: Oh yes, without a doubt, we might be lucky enough to run and take shelter as we are now. By the way, take off those dirty old rags the dogs dressed you.

Get Gunjar's things. He won't need it anymore.

Come here. Let me see if I can get those handcuffs off.

*Kjetil finally freed, tries with his arms to sit the man's body to facilitate the removal of his soldier's clothes, to try to dress him there, Ralof turns his back to him so that he can take what looked like a sack of potatoes from the than a garment, to then wear the boots, the mail coats and the breastplate of what was a legitimate armor of a Nordic, heavy, resistant, which was molded to the size and musculature of the most brutal soldier. Kjetil looks at his own hair, and through the strands of hair that fall over his face, he looks at himself like a soldier, and a smile breaks out, finally dressed as something honorable, a Stormcloak soldier.*

* in his right hand he held an axe, with a blade that he didn't know was deadly enough, but that served him very well for any kind of eventuality that risked his life, a full armor and a weapon, finally he felt alive again.

Ralof: Damn, you look like one of us now. We cannot waste any more time, we must walk, before we are captured again by the Imperial soldiers, and now they must be looking for any Northman who has the gift of walking.

* Nearby, there was a door with bars, Ralof goes there in a hurry, but after a lot of trying, he can't open it

Ralph: Damn. There is no way to open this from our side.

Maybe one of those Imperials hunting us has the blessed key.

*If once again it was the Gods listening to the conversation, or the chance that helped us there, but two different voices sounded within that structure, they came to the opposite side we were on*

Ralof: Imperials... Hide, quick, I'll take the one on the left and you'll take the one on the right.

*Kjetil understands and there are noises of chain being pulled dragging on the wall, Kjetill gets up and screams so loud that it leaves the one who was a captain and an ordinary imperial soldier distracted, which Ralof takes advantage of to stick his ax in the captain's head come back with all your strengths. the force that made her scream in pain and try to gather strength in a desperate act of trying to reverse that situation, but she finds her story ending when at the same time her legs lose strength, as well as her senses, Ralof just feels the hot blood dripping into his hands bathing the steel of his axe, in which the soldier is distracted, which is a perfect opportunity for Kjetill to swing an ax with his right hand with full force, with downward hand motion, perfect uppercut with the axe. . he swings between his right jaw, crossing it and feeling the spurt of blood on his chest and face, along with what appears to be part of the shiny fascia skin. of bones, I couldn't tell at that moment, because with the force of the blow, the soldier's body turned 180 degrees and thus fell face down on the ground, with his back to Kjetill and Ralof*

Ralof: Wow, mighty blow brother, and what strength? What are you anyway? an animal?

Kjetill: Worse, I'm a Skaal.

Ralof: The Norse people of the island of Solstein? We are talking to a legitimate male of our beautiful species, this day is surprising me more and more.

But excitement aside, help me find the keys to this place so we can finally get out of this hell.

* The partnership that was built between the point of the ax on the neck of each, was starting to work, and the two stay together and try to escape from there, they enter shortly after Kjetill takes the keys to the corpse from the corpse's pocket. freedom that begins. Then they open the door and very carefully descend the dimly lit stairs, watching for any threat that might be present. to the right when turning right, a wooden door is the first thing you see, and a long hallway is later revealed in the duo's floor, but there was no time to see what or where to go as there was again a tremor of earth caused by the dragon and several stones fell covering all that corridor leaving only the door seen before, with the impact with the tremor, Kjetil and Ralof steady their feet and bend their knees so they don't take a big fall there*

Ralof: Be careful!

*Ralof after the quick shivering has passed, he returns to a full pose and looks at Kjetil with raised eyebrows and a wry laugh*

Ralof: Damn, that dragon doesn't give up easy.

Kjetill: May our perseverance be greater than this dragon's will to kill everything that moves

Ralof: HAHA that's a smart thought buddy.

*The two, after brief words and reflections without relevance for the moment, decide to carefully open the next door, the one left after the collapse, and again hear voices that are unfamiliar to Ralof, and by the accent they show, they are certainly imperial . Ralof sneaks in and hides in a shadow on the wall opposite the side the guards were searching. It was another soldier of higher rank and an ordinary soldier, Ralof and Kjetil decide to wait for the right moment to attack. Ralof, as more experienced, decides to run to the side of the soldier in silver armor and lands a right blow on his bald head, he even tries to raise his sword to make the move and propelling it forward, but the edge on the ax sticks in the head of the man, who sounds the noise of steel breaking the braincase into pieces and then pieces of the brain along with a lot of blood also drain from that soldier. The lower rank tries to unsheathe his sword, but his last sight was a furious Norseman with an ax in one hand striking a blow with a mix of strength and inertia from his run, the poor bastard didn't have time to think, just to feel that the steel wire pierced his back near the nape of the neck and first bone of the spine, bones were broken, a pool of blood was made there, and beside his superior the soldier fell. For now the Nordic fugitive duo were completely triumphant in their escape*

*The two Norsemen contemplated the death of their enemies, it was a combined attack of excellent execution, even with their forces that seemed too extinct. the blood was still flowing and it was audible*

Ralof: I think it's done, let's go

*steel impact noise echoed off the stone walls, promptly the Ralof and Kjetill head towards where the noise is coming from, a Norse woman defending herself from an Imperial sword thrust, while a bald, middle-aged Norseman tried to take care of the second Imperial warrior while at the same time trying to dodge the spells of another Imperial that threw flaming spheres, as if the hell out there wasn't enough. Ralof catches the distracted mage and kills him with an ax to the back of the head, almost decapitating him, while Kjetil takes the other soldier from behind and immobilizes him, holding him in his arms, causing the middle-aged Norseman to cut the man's neck in a subtle cut with his long sword, Kjetil hears the muffled and choking noise of the man's voice trying to scream amid the blood that drips from his neck, the great Northman decides to lift the dying soldier's body and throws him back with all his strength supporting his right arm over the chest, causing him to slam his back violently to the ground, like a familiar Full Nelson Slam. The Nordic soldier, on the other hand, takes advantage of the distraction of the soldier she was fighting, slaving her hatchet between the collarbone and the neck of her opponent and kicking his chest, in the tug the blood hits her clothes and she witnesses her opponent amidst her tired gasp. passing away. *

Ralof: Brothers! they are well?

Frigg: For a little longer we would be part of this grotesque scenario.

Ralof: By Shor's beard, this is death row.

The Middle-Aged Soldier: Misfortunes Multiply Like Water

*There were hanging railings with one prisoner already cadaveric and another seems to have died a few days ago, his body was showing signs of putrefaction, his face was greenish and his mouth was full of small balls of pus and black, with flies poking around in search of food, in the cells on the ground, one stands out with a man also presenting almost the same state of putrefaction dressed in a wizard's robe and in it a book, some coins in his hands and a small and reddish bottle, which could be a potion *

Kjetill: They're like dogs after us, bastards seem just as persistent as the winged beast that continues to destroy everything.

Ralof: Singun, did you see Jarl Ulfric pass by? I entered the keep with Kjetill, but I didn't wonder if the Jarl was all right.

Singun: I can't say Ralof, but I highly doubt he's been through here, because as Kalf said, Tullius' soldiers seem to be everywhere.

Kalf: Listen, let's get going, we're not going to develop anything by standing here, but we'll be careful.

*The four warriors and maybe temporary escape partners head to the opposite side that Kjetill and Ralof came from, and begin to hear a sound of street running between the rocks and a few muffled speeches, indicating that they are enemies. the weather was already more humid, refreshing, which made everyone feel more comfortable, the heat of the terrible monster's tongues of fire were already starting to fade. As if a cave opened entirely in front of them revealing that beyond what appeared to be that fortress, entered the beauty of a gigantic rock opened as if it were only for the four to pass through, and there were three imperial soldiers, one of them on a bridge close by. there is a small waterfall, an officer and his subordinate right next to whoever is going there. They seem to be looking for any sign of enemy life to finish it off, but with the aggravating factor that the sound of the water invades any kind of strategy they may have. Perfect opportunity for the four fugitives, who ducked past the man near the stone bridge as they stood up to forcefully attack the Imperial officer and his subordinate, while the bridge soldier tries to understand the situation, unsuccessfully trying to raise his bow cocking. his wooden arrow to knock down one of the 3 men who were attacking his comrades, again Kjetill as a furious buffalo is running and the last image the inattentive soldier sees is Kjetill punching his black skinned face with his left hand on his back , and with the ax causing the soldier to take a few steps back, his bow and arrows fall away, while Kjetil in the inertia of the run knocks the soldier to the stones of the bridge and violently slams his ax numerous times on the face, chest and neck with With too much force, the blade stabbed in and out, making the steel scrape and scrape against bone, and the blood pounded harder in Kjetil's chest and face.

*Kjetill and Kalf rush towards the officer, Kalf already armed with his two-handed sword while Ralof is already slamming the back of the ax into the officer's face and right behind Kalf with the heavy sword raised high in the sky in one fell swoop slamming between the neck and collarbone and also catching the wire over part of the officer's chest, splitting his armor and drawing from him a dizzying, echoing scream of pain. Singun, with his hatchet, hits him hard on the chest and belly, holding the soldier by the arm and pulling him so that he falls backwards and she takes advantage of it and sticks her hatchet a few times with force and speed, killing him instantly*

Singun: Ralof, you can go, looks like there are no more Imperial soldiers to worry about, Kalf and I will stay and wait for our Jal in case he comes through here.

Ralof: Okay, let Talos guide you my brothers.

Kalf: To all of us brother.

*Kjetill just waved his vacant hand as a wave, indicating a see you later, he reflects on how just from the arduous battle, those three soldiers were so companions and treated each other so well, it is not known if the whole army is usually like that, but for sure the Stormcloak seemed to be all the time*

* When leaving that place, a small stone staircase led to a suspension bridge, a lever is activated and it goes down, just giving them time to cross it, and a new but small tremor happens, making loose stones block the return passage, despairing Kjetill*

Kjetill: Ralof, the others...

Ralof: Don't worry friend, they are warriors with a lot of experience, they will know how to turn around, let's go, before another one of these happens and does us a lot of damage

*On their feet, crystalline water descended between the stones, their boots were treading firmly in a fast run, the eyes of the two fighters were heavy, their arms quite tired, but the flame of escape motivated them, little by little the cave seemed to open up still more, following the flow of the water, the exit seemed close, they could feel it.

Ralof: Come on buddy, I feel full of freedom... And when it comes, I'll buy you a bottle of the best mead in Riverwood

Kjetill: Riverwood?

Ralof: Doesn't a Nordic know such a beautiful village? Boy, have you only known weeds and ice in your land? It's the best place to live.

Kjetill: It looks really beautiful, I need something beautiful to look at when I feel like this is all over.

Ralof: This is impossible, it's not over yet and I'm still here to be admired, but not for you

*Between wheezing breaths, a tired laugh came out of the faces of the two men who had just met each other, but who talked with such intimacy*

*At the end of that water's cycle, it fled to a space between the stones that was humanly impossible for anyone to pass, so on the right side there was a dirt corridor between the rocks, and they decided to follow that path. only they who followed and turned left, saw a furious quintet of giant spiders slowly walking towards them two very large and others small by their standards had legs full of thorns and their mouth like pincers full of venom and will to tearing those men apart could frighten anyone, swallowing the fear was necessary*

Ralof: I hate Giant Spiders, they have too many eyes...

*At the end of the sentence, both looked at each other and fear was left aside, wielding their axes, they hoped they wouldn't spit out their acidic poisons and with heavy blows they broke their heads, the ax broke their bones that looked like a slimy and disgusting, greenish shell and thick, one by one they fell dead. - DIE DEVIL - Kjetill screamed*

* Just that fight already seemed to exhaust any being, however well prepared for the fight he was, added to everything that had already happened, it only made the body work automatically, because in the intention he would certainly fall next to the already dead spiders. however it was necessary to continue and join forces was necessary. to seek the way to Ralof's lair, and to whatever hole Kjetill might fall weary*

*Kjetill accompanies Ralof to the end of that place and saw another corridor with small nascent craters of clean water being present, but there was a bear that appeared to be sleeping. Ralof nudged Kjetill calmly and whispered -Come calmly-

- Stay here - Kjetil said, sneaking between a rock and another using the shadows with his camouflage, little by little he walked towards the huge bear, with a fixed gaze on every movement of the animal, his memory takes him to the hunts he had done. not only with his old tribe, but also by trying not to starve his whole life outside the skaal village. brandishing his axe, he held it with all the strength he could, and as he got close the bear hears his kjetill foot stepping on a loose stone and gets up on all fours and turns to the great Norse and roars trying to intimidate him. lo, the ax was delivered with force in the skull of the bear that felt the hard blow and pranced hitting Kjetil's chest with its front paws, so that the beast could stand, but when its brain understood that it was hit by a more resistant razor , blood from his eyes, mouth and nose came out and as he stood upright, he fell heavily*

* Kjetil at that time had fallen on his butt on the ground, and he got angry, he used his hands supporting them on the ground, he managed to get up, to remove his ax from the skull of the bear that was still fighting for life, to again deliver blows on the snout, neck, skull again and the blood of the almost dead animal, mixed with the blood of the victimized soldiers, his last blow didn't hit the bear, making him hit the wind and fall sitting with his back together with the now dead bear, his tired face looked at Ralof that arrived quickly*

Ralph: Are you okay?

Kjetill: I was better at this my friend, believe me.

Ralof: Come on, it's not show time, although it impressed me, come on, let's continue

Ralof extends his hand so that Kjetill can hold it firmly and so he is pulled back to his full height, taking his ax he tries to start walking again at the same pace as before, but there is a small distance between him and Ralof*

Ralof: The exit is near, friend.

* It seems that the bear was the last guardian for the long-awaited freedom, the rocks that once seemed to be dark with an eternal closing of the eyes, suddenly became clear being touched by the glare of the day, even though you can see that the sky is still cloudy, the light kissed the faces of the weary fugitives from the jaws of death*

Ralof: That looks like a way out. Yea! That's a way out, quick friend, it's not long. There is! I knew she was close

*The two men walked out between the open rock, and the light enveloped their tired bodies making their eyes half-close due to the strong light that their heads were understanding it was.

* Once again peace was shrouded in thunder in the form of the roar that echoed through the skies, and once again as the harbinger of death the reddish-armored black flew through the skies like a dragon king going to celebrate in his sovereign castle his trumpet upon his prey crushed by his strength and wrath*

Ralof: Watch out, on the floor!

*Both found it as they were sheltering on a nearby rock, the dragon luckily was not under his touch, the touch was cloudy, his vision obscured and giving a punishing God of the horrendous day, standing over walking corpses*

Ralof: There he goes. It seems like this time he's gone for good.

There's no way of knowing if anyone made it out alive. But this place will be full of Imperials soon. We better get out of here.

Well, normally I would say that we would be apart from now on, but I think after today, I can say that it's part of great people that I'm honored to know. So, seeing that you and I are mortally exhausted, I offer you a rest at my sister Gerdur's house. She owns a sawmill down the road. I'm sure she will help. This is an invitation as well as a gift, as I would probably not survive today without her valuable help.

Ralof: I think you should go with me to Windhelm and join Skyrim's fight for freedom. You saw the true face of the Empire that day, and what they do when there are masters tightening their chains.

If anyone knows what the reappearance of dragons means. that someone is Ulfric.

*Kjetil walks beside what appears to be his new and good friend, thinking of his friendly words, as the pure air, the fresh wind and the noise of the amazing and dazzling waterfall invade his ears, he reflects*

Before I was being condemned for something I didn't know or didn't remember what it was, after all this man invites me to his house, where his family will welcome me, he only knows that I'm a skaal, and not a curse, and his look shows don't mind if you knew, he's saved me so many times that I can't remember the exact number, and after all I believe your invitation to join his fight just made me realize that if there's a war going on in skyrim, and if every soldier of this Jarl Ulfric is like a family, where there is a strong brotherhood and love for his own, then in that instant the previously delivered corpse of Kjetill becomes Kjetill son of the hunt. a Stormcloak.*