The sun slowly envelopes the horizon, but through the overcast weather, the overpowering rays are dimmed such that the start of the new day begins in a dark and gloomy haze.
The morning mist lingering in the cold air did little to help the sun shed light on the land.
The land of Skyrim.
A vast stretch of land that is situated in the northernmost province of the titanic continent known as Tamriel.
One of many on the planet Nirn.
Like many such places, here in this land of Skyrim is where many different races coexist.
From the native Nords to Orcs, Redguards, Bretons, Khajiits, Elves and Argonians, Skyrim and her different inhabitants were numerous.
Although, being friendly towards each other and respecting their beliefs was a touchy subject among many.
As Skyrim's inhabitants started to stir awake and begin their daily toils of life, just outside the town walls of a quaint place called Helgen, horse-drawn carts carrying many criminals and fugitives, caught during the ongoing conflict between the Imperials and the Stormcloaks, were already set course for their impending execution.
In one such cart, our protagonist stirs awake.
He slowly takes a deep breath, making sure the entirety of his lungs are filled with the fresh, cool morning air before he sits up in his seat.
Then taking but mere moments to adjust himself, he slowly took in his surroundings.
Noticing the towering pines surrounding the path that the carts followed along in, he could make out the figures of wild elk prancing about in the distance along with other various wildlife.
Some of which he had not even known of before.
It would've been a comfortable situation to be in, he thought. Had it not been for the current circumstance that he found himself in just a few days prior, he would be enjoying this serenity to the absolute fullest.
Though, his actions were not left ignored as a Nord with fair skin and, like many in Nord fashion, shoulder-length hair, that was seated in front of him noticed that he was now conscious and broke him out of his thoughts.
"Hey you, you're finally awake! You were trying to cross the border right?"
He grumbles and lets out a sigh before replying with a simple nod.
Stretching out his stiff limbs, he continued, "But what does it matter now. We're headed to share the same fate."
Upon hearing this, another Nord who was in a haggard state, sat diagonally from him visibly shaking in fear and anger.
"Damn you Stormcloaks! Skyrim was fine until you came along." He exclaimed to the Nord beside him.
"Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell."
He then turned towards our laid-back protagonist, who's face showed not a care in the world.
He spoke in a desperate manner, "You there, you and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks that the Empire wants."
The Nord sitting beside him scoffs and said, "We're all sisters and brothers in binds now, thief."
"Shut up, back there!" The Imperial coach shouted.
The feeble minded Nord looked at the last and unknown man on the cart that had his hands bound and his mouth silenced with a white piece of cloth tied around his head.
"What's wrong with him?"
The Nord beside him was infuriated due to the lack of respect and careless attitude shown to the man and shouted "Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King."
At the mention of this man's title, our protagonist raised an eyebrow showing that his interest was piqued.
The Nord questioning this man, known as Ulfric, seemed to be at a loss for words momentarily before he asked in confusion.
"Ulfric? Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion-"
He seemed to have caught on to something as he gulped hard and continued in a shaky voice, "But if they captured you…Oh Gods, where are they taking us!"
The Nord, looking solemnly, answered him, "I don't know…but Sovngarde awaits."
Our protagonist, at the mere mention of Sovngarde, gives off a peaceful look. A look that attracted the attention of the Nord directly across from him.
"Where are you from?" the Nord asked with a questioning look.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're not from around here, that I know. Your frame is far too large to be a Nord. So tell me lad, where do you hail from." the Nord said as he leaned in a little closer.
Our protagonist squinted before he tried to change the subject, "Lad, eh?"
"I meant no offense, of course. It's just that you look young. So as your senior, I thought it appropriate."
Our protagonist, noticing the respective tone in this man's reasoning for his choice of words, quickly started to laugh.
His laughter came in as a shocker to these men. Albeit his size and stature, they assumed his voice would have been rough and hoarse, but it was quite the opposite.
His laughter had a nice warm and deep tone to it that gave the men heading towards wherever fate led them, a soothing sensation.
A temporary calming effect had washed over them but was short lived before they approached one of the town's gates.
"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" an Imperial watchman yelled towards the person at the front who led everyone inside the town.
"Good. Let's get this over with." he said before giving the signal to the coachmen to get ready to drop the prisoners.
At this point, the haggard looking Nord had a look in his eye before he started to pray towards the divines.
"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me."
The Nord across from our protagonist noticed Tullius joining up with what looked to be a group of Altmer, high elves, and wrinkled his nose in anger.
"Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this."
The mention of this group called the "Thalmor" also piqued the interest of our protagonist.
Though most of what Skyrim offered was already a massive upgrade from what he had grown from.
"Quite a nice town here, yeah? Everything is so close to each other." he asked the Nord, who was reminiscing over his memories of this place before he broke into a chuckle.
"You haven't seen Windhelm yet, lad? Oh you're in for a treat." he said.
"This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in."
His tone then sounded a little sad before he continued, "Funny…when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers made me feel so safe."
As the carts entered the town and made their way towards a small clearing with many other prisoners that were already lined up, a few townsfolk came out of their homes to view the ongoing situation.
"Who are they, father? Where are they going?" asked a child that was sitting on the front porch of his house.
His father, already understanding the situation at hand, sternly told his son, "You need to go back inside, little cub."
"Why? I want to watch the soldiers."
"Inside the house. Now."
Just as the child pouted before heading inside as he was told, the cart carrying the prisoners stopped at a wall near the chopping block.
The disheveled looking Nord at this point in time was absolutely terrified.
"Why are they stopping?" he asked, fearing for the answer to come.
"Why do you think? End of the line."
Seeing every prisoner/fugitive present getting out of their respective carts, the Nord across from our protagonist looked at him and said in a dejected tone, "Let's go. Shouldn't keep the Gods waiting for us."
One of the Imperials already waiting for the arrival of the prisoners walked up to the cart and signaled for everyone to get off.
At the command of this soldier they had no other choice but to comply and stood up from their seated positions.
Though, there came a slight shocker, as our protagonist rose to his feet after seeing everyone else do the same, all eyes were on him.
Not even mentioning that the leader of the ongoing rebellion was in binds, this would have already attracted everyone's attention. As soon as he rose to his feet, his mere towering figure was already in everyone's eyes.
He looked like a giant.
Though it probably would've been a stretch as he was standing on the cart and not on the ground like everyone else.
As soon as the surprise passed, they all got off from the cart and waited for their identities to be confirmed.
Before they got off, however, our protagonist did notice a particular looking expression that appeared for but a mere moment on the sleazy looking Nord.
A look that he was all too familiar with.
Stupidity
'Seems like the horse thief has something stupid planned' is what would be the thought that occurred in our protagonist's mind as he carefully observed the Nord in question.
"No, wait! We're not rebels!" the Nord now shouting at the Imperials in a desperate attempt at trying to save his own hide.
"Face your death with some courage." our protagonist said as he jumped down.
"You've got to tell them, we weren't with you! This is a mistake!" he continued as he asked for assistance from the other Nord.
"Silence!" said a female Imperial captain by the look of her armor, which was made out of a steel alloy instead of the normal leather worn by all the other soldiers.
"Step towards the block when we call your name! One at a time! And no funny business!" she yelled towards all the captives.
The Nord who sat directly in front of our protagonist the entire cart ride, grumbled and mockingly stated, "Empire loves their damned lists."
It probably would've been funny to our protagonist had it not been for the fact that he merely arrived on this land not even a few days prior.
Where he was from, this rebellion held little meaning.
It probably held absolutely no meaning at all.
'What even is this war about?' would've been the last thing on his mind when he arrived here.
Though, before he could delve deeper into his thoughts, an Imperial soldier holding a list in his hands called out each prisoners' name and their respective holds.
"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm."
"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric." said the Nord beside the protagonist as Ulfric walked towards the chopping block.
"Ralof of Riverwood."
Ralof followed behind Ulfric to the block after hearing his name get called.
"Lokir of Rorikstead."
As soon as his name was called, this Nord named Lokir slowly stepped in front of the Imperial soldier while shouting, "No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!"
'I was right. Look at him go.' our protagonist thought as he saw Lokir making a run for it.
"Halt!" demanded the Imperial captain as she stood by not doing anything to give chase.
"You're not gonna kill me!" Lokir said as he ran up the path.
"Archers!" she simply yelled out.
Right at that command, an Imperial archer that was observing for any action quickly nocked an arrow and drew back his bowstring.
As Lokir thought freedom was right in front of his very eyes, an arrow impaled itself into his back causing him to immediately lose his momentum and fall to the ground.
Our protagonist could see him writhe for a few moments before the pain eventually overtook him and Lokir of Rorikstead was no more, his soul now in the hands of the Gods.
"Anyone else feel like running?" asked the Imperial captain to the rest of the prisoners, using what happened to Lokir as an example.
"Wait. You there! Step forward." said the man with the list.
"You're gigantic! If I didn't know any better, I would've mistaken you for an Atmoran." he jokingly stated.
'Oh gods! How does he know!' our protagonist internally screamed yet somehow kept a straight face.
He forced a laugh before outright denying that accusation, "Of course not. My family is just taller than most."
"I'm sure that's the reason. Name and place of origin."
"Leif Stoneheart. I'm just a wanderer."
The Imperial soldier gave Leif a look of pity at his response to his origin but looked towards his captain and asked, "Captain, what do we do? He's not on the list."
"Forget the list. He goes to the block." the captain said after a slight pause that dawned on her face from observing Leif's physique.
A sorrowful yet dutiful expression took over the Imperial soldier's face as he replied, "By your orders, captain."
He then turned to look at Leif with an apologetic tone in his voice as he said, "I'm sorry but as you do not have a definite place of origin, we'll try to bury your remains here in Skyrim."
Understanding that Leif really has no other options or escape, he gave a look of acceptance and told the Imperial soldier appreciatively, "Ah, I see. Well then, you have my thanks."
Leif slightly bowed his head towards the Imperial soldier as he turned to meet up with Ulfric and Ralof as they stood in front of the chopping block.
As he steadily walked towards them, General Tullius was conversing with Ulfric.
"Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the voice to murder his king and usurp his throne."
Ulfric's only reasonable response to this was a grunt that escaped his covered mouth.
'So that's what he did. Makes sense why he's here now.' Leif thought from their conversation.
"You started this war! Plunged Skyrim into chaos! And now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace!"
Just as General Tullius finished his thought, a crackling roar viciously rang and echoed in the sky.
"What was that?" the headsman asked as he gripped his executioner axe.
"It's nothing. Carry on." General Tullius said towards everyone.
"Yes, General Tullius." said the Imperial captain as she aimed to please the legionnaire.
"Give them their last rites." she commanded the priestess that stood next to the headsman.
"As we commend your souls to Aetherius. Blessings of the 8 divines upon you-"
"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!" said a courageous Stormcloak who walked directly to the chopping block, ready for death.
"As you wish."
"C'mon! I haven't got all morning!"
The imperial captain set him to where the Stormcloak knelt over on the chopping block and awaited the blade.
"My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same!"
Just as the Stormcloak soldier was not afraid of death, the headsman, who had his blade raised high in the air, brought the executioner's axe to his neck.
Leif, having experienced many such occurrences over his lifetime, was used to these viewings.
Though this time, he prayed towards the divines, specifically one, to at least guide him to wherever he was going as the Imperial captain eyed him up, as if he was next to go.
"You Imperials bastards!" screamed a Nord woman who was also a Stormcloak.
General Tullius, not feeling an ounce of guilt for this, just humphed and yelled, "Justice!"
"Death to the Stormcloaks" followed by the Imperial captain.
Ralof, feeling woeful at the loss of a brother-in-arms, said "As fearless in death, as he was in life." as he prayed for his soul to reach Sovngarde.
As soon as the decapitated body was moved, the Imperial captain pointed at Leif unsurprisingly, and called for his turn.
"Next! The tall one!"
Just before Leif began to make his way towards the block, the same echoing roar rang again over Helgen.
"There it is again. Did you hear that?"
"I said. Next. Prisoner."
"To the block, Leif. Nice and easy."
Leif, who felt appreciated to be called by his name, rather than the label of prisoner, calmly walked towards the block.
When he stood tall next to the headsman, he knelt over just as the Stormcloak before him, and awaited his end.
'What a life. What an end. Just wish I had more time to explore this wondrous land.' Leif thought somberly, as he exhaled what he believed to be his final breath; a large cloud of air that condensed due to the cold and brisk morning.
Just as Leif finally accepted his end and closed his eyes, the same roar sounded again.
Only this time, much closer than before.
Leif's eyes shot open as he witnessed what could have been considered an ancient legend.
But right now, this was all too real to be considered a legend.
A dragon, scales black as night and vicious rending spikes around its body, appeared right before his very eyes and the eyes of everyone present at this moment in time.
This dragon, though, looked eerily familiar to the one that Leif had seen in the murals of his small village, or what could be considered one, as his eyes widened even more to the point of popping out of his skull as he whispered under his breath….
"World Eater".