I'm Really Not the Dragonborn.

A young man on a cart slowly comes to his senses. He groggily shakes his head. The shakes he felt as the cart moved along the road only added to his disorientation. 

"Fuck.. My head.. Feels like it's going to explode." Ibnor grumbled as he tried to massage his temple only to find his hand was bound.

"What's going on? Shit.. my eyes." He tried to open his eyes but the light seemed so blinding, forcing him to close them shut again. It was then when he heard a man speaking.

"Hey, you.. Finally awake." The sentence froze him.

"The fuck..? Using that line on a guy who just woke up.. Not funny at all," he cursed in his mind. 

He kept his eyes shut, trying to focus his mind. The speaker continued speaking.

"You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial's ambush. Same as us, and that thief over there. And that greenhorn," the man continued. 

Ibnor opens his eyes to see the speaker. Sitting in front of him is a man he knew. A large man, golden hair with locks on the side and stubble on his face. Ralof. A man he knows very well. 

"No.. fucking.. Way.." his eyes went wide.

"Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. The Empire was nice and lazy. If they haven't been looking for you, I've stolen that horse and have been halfway through Hammerfell," said the horse thief, who is sitting next to Ralof. 

Ibnor was torn between laughing and crying. Laughing for his wish to be in Skyrim finally came true. Crying, also because his wish to be in Skyrim came true. While he would want to experience Skyrim personally and literally, taking away the benefit of modern day is not what he wants. Things like the internet, toilets, laws and safety, especially safety. Skyrim is a war torn country where death lurks in every corner. Danger could come in all forms such as bandits, armies, spiders, vampires and even dragons. Yes, spiders. Big ass spiders.

"You there, you and me. We shouldn't be here. It's the Stormcloaks the Empire wants," the horse thief said to the one sitting on Ibnor's right. 

"Wait, who's he talking to? Shouldn't I be the dov..," Ibnor's inner monologue trails off when he sees a good looking woman sitting next to him. 

Red hair and green eyes with freckles. Not excessively beautiful but easy on the eyes. The beauty mark on the left side of her chin accentuates her beauty in his eyes. However, her beauty is covered by her wild disposition. What surprised him was, she seemed to be staring at him with a fiery gaze, with a hint of disbelief and confusion.

"Damn… I think I've fallen in love…" Ibnor thought to himself. 

"We are all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief," said Ralof

"Shut up back there!" the cart driver, one of the soldiers reprimanded.

"What's wrong with him, huh?" asked the horse thief, pointing to the man sitting on my right with his chin, ignoring the driver.

"Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!" said Ralof.

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you, where are they taking us?" 

"I don't know where we are going, but Sovngarde awaits," Ralof replied.

"No! This can't be happening. This isn't happening!" said the horse thief in denial. 

"Yep, it's happening alright. My situation is more ridiculous than your bro.. But then again, let's see if your fate would be any different this time around," Ibnor muttered in his mind, looking at the horse thief with pity. 

Everyone in the cart went quiet. For a while, the driver had a moment of peace as they sat in silence.

"Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?" ask Ralof out of nowhere. 

"Why should you care?" ask the horse thief.

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home," said Ralof, not expecting any answer.

"Rorikstead. I'm.. I'm from Rorikstead." the horse thief finally said after considering his life journey. There is no place he considers as home, he is always on the move. But when his life was nearing the end, his thoughts went to the place where he was raised. 

The carts arrived at a huge gate of a town. Just as the gate opens, one of the soldiers informs the leader in a loud voice, stating the headsmen are ready and currently waiting for them. The carts then proceed through the gate, into the town. The horse thief then starts to pray to every divinity, the Aedras, begging for help. As the cart passes the gate, a man on a horse can be seen having a conversation with some elves.

"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 this," Ralof cursed under his breath, eying the General.

When they reach a certain part of the town, Ralof seems to recognize the town.

"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. Funny, when I was a boy Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe". Ralof seems to be resigned to his fate and starts reminiscing about his past. Finally the cart stops at the center of the town. 

"Get these prisoners out of the carts. Move it!" a female officer can be heard yelling out an order.

"Why are we stopping?" ask the horse thief.

"Why, do you think? End of the line. Let's go, shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us," Ralof replies as he gets down from the cart. Lokir tried to voice an objection, saying he is not a rebel like the Stormcloaks, but gets pushed down the cart nonetheless. 

"Face your death with some courage, thief," Ralof whispered to him. 

"You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!" Lokir pleaded. 

"Step towards the block when we call your names. One at a time!" the female officer ordered. 

"The Empire loves their damn list." Ralof muttered his dissatisfaction sarcastically. 

"Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm." Ulfric was called. He can only grunt as his mouth is gagged with a piece of cloth.

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric," said Ralof, bidding his early farewell.

"Ralof of Riverwood." Ralof simply moves towards the block when his name is called.

"Lokir of Rorikstead." 

"No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" The horse thief, Lokir protested and started running towards the gate.

"Halt!"

"You are not going to kill me!" Lokir yelled back, not intending to stop. 

"Archers!" 

Six arrows flew towards Lokir as soon as the command sounded. Three arrows struck his back, one on his leg, one on his shoulders and one straight to his head. Lokir dropped on the ground, dead.

" Anyone else feel like running?" asked the female officer, daring the prisoners. 

"Wait, you there. Who are you?" the officer who was holding a list in his hand asked the good looking redhead who was sitting next to Ibnor in the cart. 

"Harin." the redhead answered.

"You picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, kinsman. You, lad. What's your name?" the officer asked Ibnor.

"Ibnor." 

"An Imperial, huh. You're a long way from the Imperial city. What're you doing in Skyrim? Captain, what should we do? They are not on the list," said the officer to the female officer. 

"An Imperial? Well.. I do look like one." Ibnor thoughts as he looks at himself.

"Forget the list. They go to the block."

"By your order, Captain. Follow the captain, prisoners." the officer called Hadvar said to Harin and Ibnor. The female captain then leads both of them to the block, which turns out to be a simple block placed on the floor, intended for execution by beheading. 

"Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen called you a hero. But a hero doesn't use the power like The Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne! " General Tullius berating Ulfric. Ulfric only gave a muffled groan. 

"You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace." As soon as the General said that, a cry reverberated through the skies, drawing the attention of everyone gathered around the execution block. 

"What was that?" asked Hadvar.

"Nothing, carry on."

"Yes, General Tullius. Give them their last rite," the Imperial Captain said to the Priestess of Arkay. The priestess acknowledged and started the last rite.

"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessing of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved.."

"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with," a Stormcloak soldier interrupts the priestess from performing the last rite and walks directly to the block. 

"As you wish," said the priestess.

"Come on, I haven't got all morning. My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" The Stormcloak soldier arrogantly chided the Imperials. 

With those as his last words, his head rolls off after being chopped by the headsman. The Imperial Captain then kicked his lifeless body off to the side of the chopping block. The square where the execution is taking place became noisy with some of the residents who were watching started clamoring, some condemning the Stormcloak, while the others supporting them quietly. The Stormcloak present all curse the Imperials without care, as they know that they won't live to see the rising sun tomorrow.

"As fearless in death as he was in life," Ralof commented.

"Next, the Nord in the rags!" said the Imperial Captain, referring to Harin. By then, the cry reverberates through the sky again, this time louder than before, drawing attention to all present while unsettling Hadvar.

"There it is again. Did you hear that?" Hadvar voiced his concern.

"I said, next prisoner!" The Imperial Captain remains unfazed and calls out for execution. "And the renegade from Cyrodiil, after!"

"Be ready, it's coming," Ibnor whispered to Harin, making the redhead raise her brows. 

Confused, she makes her way to the chopping block. As the Imperial Captain pushed her on the chopping block, a third cry sounded, louder than the previous. This time, it sounded more like a roar.

"What in Oblivion is that?" General Tullius cursed.

"Sentries, what do you see?" the Imperial Captain asked. 

"It's in the clouds!" one of the sentries answered. Laying on the chopping block, Harin can clearly see a black being with wings, weaving through the clouds.

"Is that what he's referring to?" she wondered for a split second before remembering to cover her head with her arms.

*CRASH!!*

The landing was so hard that the ground shook. A pitch black body, darker than the night, glowing red vines around the body with two enormous wings landed on top of the tower in front of the execution block. Sounds of weapons being unsheathed can be heard as all eyes trained on the newcomer.

"Dragon!!!"

"Don't just stand there! Kill that thing! Guards, get the townspeople to safety!" General Tullius shouted several orders.

The dragon let out a shockwave that blasted everyone, including the headsman, and inadvertently saved Harin from decapitation at a small cost. The blast throws her backwards like a ragdoll before slamming onto a wall of the nearest building. She was not hurt much as she was ready for impact. 

"Motherfucker, it hurts! Th… This is real. This is fucking real! Shit, shit, shit!" Ibnor thought when he dropped to the ground after colliding with a nearby cart. 

His eyes are watery with tears forming on them as he grit his teeth and try to hold the pain in. 

"Hey, are you alright?" Harin went to him and helped him back up on his feet. 

Luckily their hands are tied on the front side, only providing little inconvenience when moving. The dragon is now flying through the air, raining fire breath after shouting to the sky. Soon enough, meteorites the size of a basketball started raining down, obliterating everything on their paths followed by lightning strikes. 

"Let's get into the watchtower first," he said. 

Harin nodded and once they made it into the watchtower, they found Ralof and Ulfric were already there together with a few injured Stormcloak soldiers.

"How are they?" Ulfric asked a Stormcloak soldier who was attending his injured comrade. 

"They're hurt, but they'll live. Another second out there with the dragon, and they'd both be dead."

"Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?" Ralof asked.

"Legends don't burn down villages," Ulfric gave a short answer.

BOOM!! 

The ground shook once more. 

"We need to move, now!" Ulfric stressed.

"Up through the tower, let's go!" said Ralof. They hastily make their way up the tower but a section is blocked by fallen stone and wall debris. 

"We just need to move some of these rocks to clear the way," said a Stormcloak soldier. He and one another hurriedly remove the rocks. Unfortunately, right at that moment, the black Dragon bashes through the wall next to the staircase, killing a Stormcloak soldier in the process. 

"Yol.. Toor.. Shul." the black dragon muttered a fire breath towards the other Stormcloak soldier, killing him instantly before leaving the broken wall. Ralof went to the broken wall to survey the area. 

Ibnor was however rooted to the ground. Near the corpse of the Stormcloak, there seems to be few balls with different colors. He went to the corpse to check it out but when he tried to pick the balls, they disappeared once his hand touched them.

[Archery +0.2]

[Mental +0.2]

[Strength +0.1]

[Agility +0.3]

"Interesting.." Ibnor mused.

"See the inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going! Go! We'll follow when we can," Ralof said pointing to the ruined inn below.

Before Ibnor even says anything, Harin nudges him, signaling him to follow her. Without any hesitation, she jumps from the broken wall to the half destroyed inn below.

"Come on. I've done this few thousand times at least. Let's just hope doing it with my physical body for the first time won't cost me any inconvenience." he took a moment to readied himself. 

He then jumps to the first floor of the inn through the roof, rolling himself on the floor as he landed. Harin helped him up and they both then dropped down to the lower ground through an opening on the wooden floor.

"Haming, you need to get over here, now! That's a boy. You are doing great." Hadvar can be heard, persuading a young boy to get into cover.

"Torolf.." he called for a man but was interrupted by the black dragon, who landed behind Torolf and blew a Fire Breath, incinerating him instantly. 

"Gods! Everyone get back!" Hadvar brought the young boy and few townspeople into cover, away from Alduin's Fire Breath.

"Still alive, prisoners? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way," he said, glancing at both Ibnor and Harin, before handing Haming to one of the townspeople. "Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join their defense."

"Gods guide you, Hadvar." Gunnar replied.

"Come on, stay close to the wall," Hadvar said to Ibnor and Harin, leading them. The ruined buildings proved to be a good cover from the flying fireballs and occasional lighting strikes. Sometimes, they have to stop and crouch in a corner when the black dragon flies above their heads. Finally they regroup with General Tullius along with several soldiers. 

"It's too late for me, save yourself," an injured soldier on the ground pleaded .

"Hadvar, into the keep! Soldiers, we are leaving," said the General. His meaning is clear. A retreat from the overpowered assailant. 

"It's only us, prisoners. Stay close." Hadvar said.

Somehow in the middle of the chaos, Ibnor was hit by a surreal experience, as if everything was moving at a slow pace. His heart beating hard, with his brain still trying to process what he is currently experiencing. The fires, the smokes, corpses strewn all over the place and not to forget flying arrows and fireballs. 

As if reminding him of the elephant in the room, the black dragon swoops down near him, grabbing a soldier before dropping him, from a higher altitude. The soldier went splat on the ground with his limbs and is now positioned in a weird angle. 

That's when he feels an irony within a contradiction. The reality in front of him is so absurd and he is barely coping with the situation and by logical reasoning, he won't survive the way he is. A normal human fighting a mythical creature and coming out on top is an awesome fantasy, but he is living the fantasy, making it his reality. Amusingly, the solution to the problem he is facing can also be considered as absurd and non logical. The scattered colored balls lying around are the key to his survivability. Sounds ridiculous, but it's as real as it gets. 

He is hesitating. He knew time is of the essence but the multiple balls in different colors laying around is an opportunity not to be missed. Making up his mind, he went to every corpse, collecting the balls.

[Physique + 0.5]

[Agility +0.1]

[Mental +0.2]

[Strength +0.5]

[Archery +0.4]

While he was harvesting the balls, Harin had a subtle frown on her face while to the rest of the people, he looked like someone who had lost his mind, scampering around dead bodies. General Tullius is unable to stand it any longer and berate him. 

"Run, you idiot!" 

Hadvar comes to his senses and Harin grabs Ibnor before running towards the keep. As they make it to the Helgen Keep, they encounter Ralof who seems to be separated from the rest of the Stormcloaks.

"Ralof, you damned traitor! Out of my way!"

"We're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time."

"Fine! I hope the dragon takes you all to Sovngarde."

"You! Come, into the keep!" 

Ibnor followed Ralof without thinking much as his priority was getting out of there and Harin was tagging along with him with a dangerous glint in her eyes.