Legends of Tamriel IC

[Archmage Jeremiah]

Oh, what a joy. Well, this at least distracted him from the matter at hand. He's dealt with Bretons like this before, they're pretty much steel plated mannequins of each other. With the gaze of snails pace that meets with his, he looks at him with a rather bored and unamused look of general tiredness. "Oh. Is your cooking as repugnant, unsavory and inclement as your general attitude or you're just happy to see us? If so, it's nice to get the special treatment."

Tiajia glanced back and forth between Ri'zhid and Fen once, and smirked, before feigning an expression of empathy. "No no, ja'qara, grant the man his final wish!" she interjected, and suddenly sounded as if the spirit of an Imperial countess had possessed her with the drastic changes Tiajia made to her pronunciation and inflection in the snap of a finger, even purposefully mispronouncing her own language to complete the mockery.
"I dearly apologize on behalf of his behaviour and mine, good sir. This is our first time being executed, and we're both dying from the anxiety. I do hope you understand,"

@Almighty-Kuma @Zelosse​

 

[Tyrannosaurus Rekt]

Falx, Priest of Stendarr

---

Falx laughed. "I am not dead," he said to the Imperial looking Nord. "So, Stendarr still protects me." He leaned back at her question. "Talos, Stendarr, Akay, Dibella, Mara, no matter one's religion, people do not take to aggression warmly." He paused. "That is why I am here. Fight vampires until the end, even if their beguiling extends to those of authority. And those of authority see you fit to die."

His attention turned towards a true Nord. Her question wasn't insulting of his religion. Instead, she inquired why he would tend to this life. Truth be told, it was not a soft living. It was not made of friends, family, and pleasantries. It was always doubting. Always fearing. And always having one's magic and weapons drawn close. "Since we are so close to death," he said, "why don't I tell you a story." He sighed. "When I was a child, I was chased down by a vampire. It was killed before it killed me, but I witnessed it kill others. I didn't want to be that dead and afraid person. The decision seemed simple. But I found hope in gods and monster slayers." He smiled. "Stendarr protected me. He clothed me in magicks and power. Even if you don't believe in such things, you have to acknowledge that some celestial being thought I was a decent hunter."

---

@Cactush @Applo

 

[BlueFlameNikku]

Gulauk Ruusgar!!!
​

The massive orc with the given name Gulauk Russgar sat on edge within the cart that was containing other individuals of various race and gender. He could hear the Nords ahead of them seeming to cheer about their coming afterlife while those seated within the same carriage as him seemed more solemnly accepting of coming death. The broad orc's breath was heavy and quite audible before he spoke fairly loudly as he didn't care if the Imperial guards escorting them heard as he spoke semi angrily at those around him. "Many of you speak as though the worms are already feasting upon your corpses." He grunted as he turned his wrists; the Imperials were smart enough to not just double but triple bind the orc's hands. The mountain of muscle could still get himself free with his shear strength but it would take enough time that by then a crossbow bolt would surely pierce his throat.

Gulauk spoke loudly enough that one of the Imperial guards to the side of the carriage/wagon even spoke to him. "Shut up back there." To which Gulauk responded by quickly turning his head to the mounted Imperial and snarled like a caged beast that was waiting to intact violence upon prey. "A threat so empty from someone so far away." The Imperial did his best not to respond as he'd look back forwards down the road with a smug look on his face. The orc made a mental note of that one's face before returning to his more natural yet slightly hunched sitting position. He spoke this time with a more normal volume breathy tone. "I refuse to die, not yet. But that one...that one dies...soon...soon..." All of the orc's countless scars were on display as the rags they had put him in only truly covered just above and below the green monster's waist. Gulauk would become more and more restless as much like most orcs he too felt naked and not in proper dress without some kind of metal weaponry or armor on his person. He clenched his fists and teeth tightly in silent anger though the increasingly heavy breaths weren't so silent of course.

 

[Cactush]

Falx, Priest of Stendarr

---

Falx laughed. "I am not dead," he said to the Imperial looking Nord. "So, Stendarr still protects me." He leaned back at her question. "Talos, Stendarr, Akay, Dibella, Mara, no matter one's religion, people do not take to aggression warmly." He paused. "That is why I am here. Fight vampires until the end, even if their beguiling extends to those of authority. And those of authority see you fit to die."

His attention turned towards a true Nord. Her question wasn't insulting of his religion. Instead, she inquired why he would tend to this life. Truth be told, it was not a soft living. It was not made of friends, family, and pleasantries. It was always doubting. Always fearing. And always having one's magic and weapons drawn close. "Since we are so close to death," he said, "why don't I tell you a story." He sighed. "When I was a child, I was chased down by a vampire. It was killed before it killed me, but I witnessed it kill others. I didn't want to be that dead and afraid person. The decision seemed simple. But I found hope in gods and monster slayers." He smiled. "Stendarr protected me. He clothed me in magicks and power. Even if you don't believe in such things, you have to acknowledge that some celestial being thought I was a decent hunter."

---

@Cactush @Applo

Selesia was bemused by this man. Usually people tried to strike at her or valiantly debate the powers of their gods, but this man was so simple in his response, and with no hint of outward aggression. She could not help but eavesdrop on the impending conversation between him and the Nord lady. A story of his past, he survived an encounter with a vampire, and lived to become the very thing that saved him. What a noble cause.

Selesia had never encountered Vampires, Werewolves, or other creatures of the night. Fearless beasts who prey on the innocent, and the unlucky. She could at least admit to herself she'd rather this clean execution over an eternal existence as one of them, or their thralls.

 

[Nanashi]

It would seem that everyone in the cart had some story to them, either present in appearance, demeanor, or they couldn't shut up about it. One of them, a thief, who was finding it hard to grasp the gravity of their situation. Sorris assumed this was her first time every being faced with certain death. Deep down he kind of envied her of that feeling of dread, that worried expression. He'd fought so many monsters, men, and braved so many harsh situations, he'd forgotten what it was like to fear death. At least in a bit longer he wouldn't have to see that same look on the faces of Skyrim's people as he walks by. She was quickly taken in with the prattle of the Khajiits, leading Sorris to huff and grin. Shaking his head surprised of how casual the rest were trying to be.

The many sidebar conversations would only increase upon the addition of a rather old Imperial's voice. Falx he called himself, a former Vigilant of Stendarr. Just what his ears needed... a Cleric who couldn't shut up about the "evils of Daedra." Or the "black hearten nature of witchcraft and vampires." Sorris never had anything against the Vigilant, but against some of their standing. Most he'd met in his travels were always preaching about how great their god was and why the creatures they hunt don't deserve life. When asked by a neighboring Nord woman, he proceeded to speak of his life and how it came to be. He stared at him for a time. Hearing his story he didn't seem like every other Vigilant Sorris had seen in life. The old man seemed actually rather joyful, prideful like any elder, but joyful.

The Dunmer's attention would soon be interrupted by the uproar of a massive orc he had the displeasure of sharing a ride with. His appearance was grotesque and imposing... But not as imposing as his breath. Sorris almost wretched at the third or fourth hint of it he caught under his nose, starting to regret his heightened senses. As it were, time was shortly running out and he couldn't help but eye the Imperial coddling his sword. The one guard finally decided to look back at him, drawing the unique blade and boasting it before Sorris' piercing glare.

"Quite the blade, this isn't she?" The guard taunted, smirking as he smoothed his fingers along the blade. "A foot-long handle for a variety between one-handed and two-handed attacks, wrapped tight in black leather with two wolf heads on the end of the pommel. And five feet worth of pure silver to makeup the blade." Sorris squinted as the guard started playfully tossing the sword from hand to hand. "What's a ash-skinned bastard like you doing with a sword like this anyway?"

"Why don't you untie me, let me off this cart, and I'll show you," he snarled, speaking for the first time since he'd been locked away and placed on the cart.

Wolf's Bane

 

[Zelosse]

Fen scoffed at the obviously sarcastic reply from the presumably female Khajit. The both of them were truly beyond insufferable. The whole bloody cart full of cutthroats and brigands was going to be one of the last memories he had.

The thought of execution was stealing his otherwise unshakable willpower to survive as he always had.

But a part of him admitted he was being harsh to these folks, some like him were probably here to die under false claims.
Though Fen doubted anybody here was being arrested for having consensual relations with a captain of the local watch.

"Your sarcasm is unwanted, flea bag. All of us are to be killed. Some of us, falsely accused crimes I'd wager.."

Out the corner of his eye he glanced at the holyman.

"But I suppose an apology is in order for my rudeness. I am Fen Dunwyr. To whom do I have to pleasure of being dragged along with."

 

[Applo]

For a while after the vigilant finished speaking Tóra watched the man's face. Somehow he seemed able to laugh and smile in spite of what awaited them. Maybe it was the power of the man's belief that Stendar would protect him or perhaps just the face of someone who had faced things worse than death in the beasts and abominations he had hunted. Either way Tóra found it slightly comforting for a moment and was about to ask the man to tell another story when two of the carriage's other occupants started throwing threats at the soldiers escorting them.

"Be quiet both of you" she said after turning her body so she could see both the Orc and the Dunmer. "I don't want to spend the rest of my life with my face pressed to the floor and a boot on my neck because you two are damned fools. Do you know who they have in that carriage? It is Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak. Half the soldiers in Skyrim will be here to make sure he dies today. How long do you think the legion would let you play with your sword before they cut you down with theirs grey skin? How about you Orc, how far do you think you would get before being filled with arrows?"

Tóra paused briefly to let her words sink through dense minds.

"I know enough of the Legion to know that our fates are in the hand's of the Nine today, not ours and I mean no offense vigilant but I don't think they care much for us".

​

​

 

[Archmage Jeremiah]

Fen scoffed at the obviously sarcastic reply from the presumably female Khajit. The both of them were truly beyond insufferable. The whole bloody cart full of cutthroats and brigands was going to be one of the last memories he had.

The thought of execution was stealing his otherwise unshakable willpower to survive as he always had.

But a part of him admitted he was being harsh to these folks, some like him were probably here to die under false claims.
Though Fen doubted anybody here was being arrested for having consensual relations with a captain of the local watch.

"Your sarcasm is unwanted, flea bag. All of us are to be killed. Some of us, falsely accused crimes I'd wager.."

Out the corner of his eye he glanced at the holyman.

"But I suppose an apology is in order for my rudeness. I am Fen Dunwyr. To whom do I have to pleasure of being dragged along with."

Tiajia narrowed her eyes and tilted her head at Fen with a curious whip of her tail. "Why give an apology by stating the necessity of one, hmm? That tarnishes the sincerity of said apology, no?" she wondered, but smiled anyway, however stoically, "Still, Khajiit respects one who understands the apology is a tool. This one is named Tiajia, and can sense she is in the presence of intellect,"

@Zelosse @Almighty-Kuma ​

 

[BlueFlameNikku]

Gulauk Ruusgar
Interactions: @Applo
Mentions: @Seishin Ryuu Vaguely others in the cart
​

The orc's attention was quickly grabbed as the Nord woman with brown hair retorted at him and the Dunmer. The large orc scoffed at her words in his deep grunting voice. "The chieftains of your people do not concern me and neither do the numbers of sheep dressed up like warriors." This semi imprisonment and leading to dishonorable execution was not the orc way and continued to boil Gulauk's blood even further. Without turning to the Dunmer Gulauk would speak of him. "I can see it in the Dunmer's eyes. We are not the one's who will bend the knee only to die; and if you think a few arrows will stop an orc then I'd bet you've never faced one." The male orc would stare determinedly at the Nord woman.

He too became silent though instead as the topic of religion seemed to be popping up about their fates being left up to the nine and other such divine forces. Gulauk instead bent down in silence and stared at his feet at the bottom of the cart. Malacath will aid me...he will provide an opportunity... Is what the orc would think to himself as he believed himself to be worthy of his deity's help as he felt himself to literally be an outcast of his own clan whom orcs themselves view themselves as outcasts.

 

[Nanashi]

@Applo @BlueFlameNikku
​

"You'd do right to listen to the big guy," Sorris added following the tall Orc's words. "If you've been following recent events, clearing towns of soldiers is a new expertise of mine..." He raised his head to look upon the Nord woman with a deep, intense glare of conviction and defiance. The glow of his amber eyes could almost singe through her flesh as if they were flame themselves. He sized her up from top to bottom, reading her demeanor and appearance to find she seems not so indifferent to struggle and conflict. She was caked with dirt and bruises, seeming cynical in her attitude.

"You look like someone who's already given up, so I suppose I shouldn't waste my breath." He turned his gaze back to the guard that teased him earlier, "With my sword or not, I'd carve through each of these mediocre warriors like a great-sword through a sweet roll." The Imperial of subject peered back and forth from Sorris' sword and Sorris, taking a swallow of his own fear that sounded louder than the trot of horse shoes on the ground. In a swift twist of the the blade, the Dunmer's reflection appeared and shook the soldier to his core. Startled he sheathed the weapon, and marched faster to avoid his gaze. Once out of his sight, Sorris returned his attention slowly back to the Nord woman.

"And if you call me Grey skin again, I'll make you pray the Nine Divines take you first." He paused to let his words cut at her ears. He was too bold to lay over and die, and too courageous to be in fear of death.

 

[Almighty-Kuma]

Ri'zhid felt something... Go through his mind. Either it be a ballsy attitude or a rather cynical outlook on events, he let out a single chuckle before he had the same bored look he had with the Breton supremacist he knew as Fen turned to the Orc. However, a smile is nowhere in site, but only an emotionless but calculating face. He looks up and down at the Orc before speaking as clearly and efficiently as an Imperial making a business deal.

"I can see it in the Dunmer's eyes. We are not the one's who will bend the knee only to die; and if you think a few arrows will stop an orc then I'd bet you've never faced one."

"I have faced Orsimer before and have a sizeable amount of information on them. Yes, I can wholeheartedly admit Orsimer have one of the highest durability and potential in battle thus far, but look at yourself. You're in rags with thrice tightened bounds, surrounded by Imperial soldiers and you are unarmed... That's not even the worst part."

Ri'zhid casually points behind him, where one could vaguely see a group of scouts... He points in the trees of a Bosmer group of the Aldmeri Dominion located in the trees following the carts. "I assume that, besides myself, the gasefi oriit can also see the troops hiding within the forests and hear their movements. You by yourself would not be able to survive, friend. No amount of prime Orsimer rage or luck can withstand arrows, magic and/or the might of... maybe a good twenty soldiers."

"You look like someone who's already given up, so I suppose I shouldn't waste my breath." He turned his gaze back to the guard that teased him earlier, "With my sword or not, I'd carve through each of these mediocre warriors like a great-sword through a sweet roll."

Ri'zhid's aim goes towards the Dunmer-Redguard hybrid. He then raises an "eyebrow" as he looks at him closely and then chooses to speak. "Ri'zhid agrees fully that if this were only mere soldiers like the one you scared off, you'd probably be in a nearby town. Anyone such as yourself is extremely lucky. You possess the innate skill in light weaponry Redguards and the unmatched innate Dunmer skill with Destruction magics that even the masters of it can agree it's impressive.

He then pauses as he stops the praise and then gets to his point. "After the mediocre soldiers however... there's the Thalmor with their magics and more skilled soldiers that are expendable. One has to understand that whilst the soldiers will be easy at first... The higher ranking ones having superior skill, weaponry and intelligence. Even if you get that sword of yours back, you wouldn't be truly prepared."

"Your sarcasm is unwanted, flea bag. All of us are to be killed. Some of us, falsely accused crimes I'd wager.."

Out the corner of his eye he glanced at the holyman.

His eyes dart back to Fen. "The Gods may punish those who have judged and decided the fate of an innocent man or woman here, but see it from a perspective of someone who has seen executions carried out by these soldiers and have interacted with the mourning siblings, parents and children... The Empire does not care who they were or how much of a saint they were. They only care that they were caught with the crime and that they are to be hung the next week..."

He then exchanges a glance with Fen. "We are to die here, yes. If it were up to me to decide our fate, I would have freed all of us here and we would flee to another town. Able bodied warriors like the bearded Imperial and Orc, spellcasters such as the hybrid... and also yourself perhaps, seeing that insignia or your arm, and those who can blend with the shadows like the Nord, the crafty Imperial and aforementioned gasefi oriit. We may all have our differences and prejudices, but think about it from my perspective..." His expression then changes from a look of pure calculation to a wild smirk driven by either hatred for the idiocies of the Stormcloaks, Imperials and Thalmor or just the excitement of the thought. "If we were a group, who would honestly be able to stop us?"

That is when they start nearing Helgen. General Tullius is a name that is thrown around as a soldier alerts said man that the headsman is waiting. "Well... At least I'm dying with an interesting scenario to take with me. May the nine Divines guide you all to the afterlife."

@Applo @Zelosse @Seishin Ryuu @Cactush Tyrannosaurus Rekt @BlueFlameNikku @Archmage Jeremiah

 

[Cactush]

The debates of the others was starting to whittle away at Selesia's sanity, and her attention span, she had no real interest in the Orsimer's war ability, his pride, or his values, at the end of today, a corpse will still be a corpse, his will just be massive and green.

And the Nord, Tóra, as proud a Nord you'd ever find by the look of it,
While Selesia had been one for bending the knee, sometimes both, for survivals sake, she could not disagree with her on the situation, this Dunmer was going to get them all killed faster if he didn't shut up, and all over a damned sword, and she didn't plan on being first in line.

And the Breton...Fen, she wanted to keep an eye on him, he had an air of arrogance around him, but he didn't seem entirely bad. She concluded that if there was anyone she could use as a bargaining tool, it was him, there was always someone interested in 'royalty', in one way or another.

This went on for some time as she contemplated the stories of each person travelling in the cart, and if there was anything to be gained from them. Anything that could save her...
She didn't find much, mainly because each train of thought lead to the same conclusion, we're all probably worth more, or easier dealt with, by being killed right here. Perhaps Falx had a chance, but it would take a miracle, and the Eight and One don't deliver such things.

"Well... At least I'm dying with an interesting scenario to take with me. May the nine Divines guide you all to the afterlife."

Ri'zhid's words willed Selesia back into the real world, and his words finally shook some reality into her head, the weight of the situation sinking in a little further, and causing her to again ask herself the same question she had first asked when she was loaded onto the cart, "Why?"
She was a debt collector, not a killer; she'd made sure of that, not a rebellious king or his soldiers, not a lover of the Nine, in their eyes, Selesia should not be a threat. So why the chopping block? Why not some menial labour or some jail time, hell she'd even take time in Cidhna Mines in Markath over this, because at least she'd still be alive. By the Eight and One, she'd even try to slip back into Riften if it meant escaping this fate.

But now more thoughts were stirring, the name General Tullius had started being spoken in the further carts. "General Tullius...a Legionnaire I'd wager, and if the reactions to the name said anything, it was that this man was loathed by every Nord in Skyrim." This train of thought lead her nowhere, but it distracted her from her impending doom just a little longer.
With a deep breath and a heavy sigh, she took one last look at her company, and tried once again to put on a brave face, even if it was just for the sake of whatever pride she had left in her.

"If I ever make it out of this alive, I'm poisoning whoever put me in these chains and these damned itchy rags. And I'm going to enjoy watching them choke on every last drop!" It was her last day, she might as well boast loudly with the others.

 

[Archmage Jeremiah]

Ri'zhid felt something... Go through his mind. Either it be a ballsy attitude or a rather cynical outlook on events, he let out a single chuckle before he had the same bored look he had with the Breton supremacist he knew as Fen turned to the Orc. However, a smile is nowhere in site, but only an emotionless but calculating face. He looks up and down at the Orc before speaking as clearly and efficiently as an Imperial making a business deal.



"I have faced Orsimer before and have a sizeable amount of information on them. Yes, I can wholeheartedly admit Orsimer have one of the highest durability and potential in battle thus far, but look at yourself. You're in rags with thrice tightened bounds, surrounded by Imperial soldiers and you are unarmed... That's not even the worst part."

Ri'zhid casually points behind him, where one could vaguely see a group of scouts... He points in the trees of a Bosmer group of the Aldmeri Dominion located in the trees following the carts. "I assume that, besides myself, the gasefi oriit can also see the troops hiding within the forests and hear their movements. You by yourself would not be able to survive, friend. No amount of prime Orsimer rage or luck can withstand arrows, magic and/or the might of... maybe a good twenty soldiers."



Ri'zhid's aim goes towards the Dunmer-Redguard hybrid. He then raises an "eyebrow" as he looks at him closely and then chooses to speak. "Ri'zhid agrees fully that if this were only mere soldiers like the one you scared off, you'd probably be in a nearby town. Anyone such as yourself is extremely lucky. You possess the innate skill in light weaponry Redguards and the unmatched innate Dunmer skill with Destruction magics that even the masters of it can agree it's impressive.

He then pauses as he stops the praise and then gets to his point. "After the mediocre soldiers however... there's the Thalmor with their magics and more skilled soldiers that are expendable. One has to understand that whilst the soldiers will be easy at first... The higher ranking ones having superior skill, weaponry and intelligence. Even if you get that sword of yours back, you wouldn't be truly prepared."



His eyes dart back to Fen. "The Gods may punish those who have judged and decided the fate of an innocent man or woman here, but see it from a perspective of someone who has seen executions carried out by these soldiers and have interacted with the mourning siblings, parents and children... The Empire does not care who they were or how much of a saint they were. They only care that they were caught with the crime and that they are to be hung the next week..."

He then exchanges a glance with Fen. "We are to die here, yes. If it were up to me to decide our fate, I would have freed all of us here and we would flee to another town. Able bodied warriors like the bearded Imperial and Orc, spellcasters such as the hybrid... and also yourself perhaps, seeing that insignia or your arm, and those who can blend with the shadows like the Nord, the crafty Imperial and aforementioned gasefi oriit. We may all have our differences and prejudices, but think about it from my perspective..." His expression then changes from a look of pure calculation to a wild smirk driven by either hatred for the idiocies of the Stormcloaks, Imperials and Thalmor or just the excitement of the thought. "If we were a group, who would honestly be able to stop us?"

That is when they start nearing Helgen. General Tullius is a name that is thrown around as a soldier alerts said man that the headsman is waiting. "Well... At least I'm dying with an interesting scenario to take with me. May the nine Divines guide you all to the afterlife."

@Applo @Zelosse @Seishin Ryuu @Cactush Tyrannosaurus Rekt @BlueFlameNikku @Archmage Jeremiah

The round tips of Tiajia's sharp ears perked up when they caught a the new bit of Ta'agra Ri'zhid spoke in passing, and her head did too when it was spoken a second time, and she realized it was directed at her specifically. Humouring the nickname and Ri'zhid's perspective with a quirk of her brow, she said while maintaining her uniquely nonchalant tone: "For a foreign-born Khajiit, your eye for opportunity is keen. A shame your silver tongue sounds like brass to the wise ear, ja'qara,"

@Almighty-Kuma​

 

[Almighty-Kuma]

The round tips of Tiajia's sharp ears perked up when they caught a the new bit of Ta'agra Ri'zhid spoke in passing, and her head did too when it was spoken a second time, and she realized it was directed at her specifically. Humouring the nickname and Ri'zhid's perspective with a quirk of her brow, she said while maintaining her uniquely nonchalant tone: "For a foreign-born Khajiit, your eye for opportunity is keen. A shame your silver tongue sounds like brass to the wise ear, ja'qara,"

@Almighty-Kuma​

Ri'zhid did have a playful smirk. "My senses are enhanced by my culture and my knowledge. Lord knows I want the appreciation. And uh... Ahziss o'hama kiz vaba ma'i, bo ahziss shu naba, ike jer kor kaaka ahziss rhogur..." He accompanies that line with a playful purr. Hey, Ri'zhid was a dead man anyways, wasn't he? Why not have a little fun with the fellow Khajiit in the cart, even if she shuts it down with witticisms and sarcastic comments? He thought of it as a way to ease the pain before he eventually is met to the chopping block.

The carts start going through the town where people could stare at the prisoners in the cart. The glares from the townsfolk at the Stormcloaks could be felt even if you were paying attention... Meanwhile the stares at the group are... different. Maybe full of wonder and/or contempt, but it didn't really matter. The carriages then pulled up near the chopping block, where a bunch of Thalmor bodyguards, Imperial soldiers of all ranks, and the two leaders stand to watch Ulfric Stormcloak be executed; Elewen who is the head of the Thalmor Embassy here in Skyrim and General Tullius, the leader of the Imperial Legion.

"Alright, prisoner scum! Step out of the cart and line up one at a time as we check you off for execution! If anyone acts out of line, we will set you in line. If anyone tries to escape, you'll be dead within five seconds! I think I made myself clear! MOVE!" An Legion captain, whose namesake was to the absolute core... She was a fierce looking Imperial officer with a voice that grates on anyone's eardrums. The Stormcloak prisoners stand up and then hop off the carts.

"Feh... Annoying pest." Ri'zhid hops off first seeing is how he's the furthermost out, and then steps up to have himself checked off. After a few steps out, he yawns as he looks at both the rather healthy looking boy and the gruff, noisy Imperial captain. "Alright, what am I doing exactly?"

"Keep that mouth in check, cat. Tell us your name and reason why you're here." She then crosses her arms. Ri'zhid raises an eyebrow as he strands up straight and looks at her with a smirk.

"Ri'zhid. Renegade of Cyrodiil and slayer of a whole Thalmor justicar. T'was funny how his head popped off of his body like that." The young man then writes him down for execution. He then raises an eyebrow as he then laughs at a thought ant then look straight at the captain with a look that screams condescending and brutal. "I'm guessing they let all the pretty Imperials I've seen in Cyrodiil with wonderful bosoms and cheery faces be free while ones such as yourself are fighting for a fate of a country that isn't your own. Only thing missing is the short hair and deep voice---" He is then met with a punch to the face by the captain. This is met with some blood on his face, with him spitting it out. "Got another one in ya? Being manhandled makes me twirl and spin."

"Get this prisoner rounded up with the rest of them before I deal with him personally." Ri'zhid is then dragged off to the crowd with a bloody grin, and the captain then looks back at the line. "Next!"

 

[Applo]

As she stepped down from the cart, Tóra kept her eyes fixed on the khajiit's tail. From this distance she could practically smell the men and women she'd once called comrades and she was sure she could feel their glares boring into the side of her head.

"Next!"

As Ra'zeid, or had it been Ri'zed, was dragged away Tóra stepped forward to face the captain and her assistant.

"Name and crime prisoner"

"Tóra Gunnarsdotter of Falkreath" she said before pausing and glancing over at the occupants of the other carriage.

"Crime, prisoner!"

Tóra sighed, there was no point is trying to explain it again now. "Stormcloak rebel."

The captain signalled Tóra to move and as she made her way to stand next to the khajiit she suddenly found her way blocked by a woman whose name she couldn't quite recall.

"I hope your ancestors piss on you, you snowback bitch"

The statement was followed by the sudden sensation of wetness rolling down Tóra's cheek as the women spat on her before turning their back. Tóra tried to wipe the ball of spit away as she shuffled over to where the khajiit was standing but her bindings meant that all she really did was spread the saliva around her face. Still it wasn't like it was going to be a problem for much longer.​

 

[Tyrannosaurus Rekt]

Falx, Priest of Stendarr

---

General Tullius was a name that Falx knew. He didn't know the man personally, obviously, but he was more than aware of Imperials in places of power. With a name like that thrown around, there was going to be fanfare, probably an overabundance, in their executions. Stendarr still protected him, he was sure. Yet, there didn't seem to be a way out of this. Not that he thought himself so special as to worm his way from death, but maybe there'd been a fraction of a chance that things weren't so final. Falx wasn't one to hang his head low and bemoan his fate. He had far too much pride and honor to let his lips fall silent and his eyes fall dark.

He looked around at the others, as some of their words gathered traction and others became a whisper. A dunmer, though only vaguely so, insulted the Nord. He threatened her with death. Falx laughed. "Offering to kill someone on their way to execution is like offering a drowning man a cup of water. It is unnecessary and filled with useless spite. Why do you want to prove yourself against others? We all share the same sentence." He exhaled. "Why not find other words? We can all tell stories. Go out with our best memories on our lips."

Falx would have launched into a story had it not been for the parade of carriages finally breaking the threshold of the town. Eyes of all ages and types looked at them, judged them. There was so much vitriol in those stares, but he couldn't say what for. It wasn't that Falx had never met those that were antagonistic towards him, especially in Skyrim where Imperials were known as "the removers of Talos," though not said so politely. Still, it was a bit overwhelming to be viewed as he was now.

As they came to the town square, there was a notable mixture of both Imperials and High Elves. So, the Thalmor also had an interest in Ulfric? Or was someone here a particular thorn in their side? Who had this motley crew not pissed off?

Falx didn't hear what the khajiit was guilty of, but apparently, it was nasty enough to get a punch across the face. The young woman he'd been speaking to earlier hopped off the carriage before him. He followed suit, making a line that the Imperial governments were so fond of. Falx tried not to chuckle. He shouldn't try to find so much humor in the gallows. The woman stated her name and her charges. A rebel, eh? In light of everything else, that seemed so miniscule.

The Imperial Captain stood before him and glared as if her eyes were made of pure fire. "Name and crime," she said in a tone that frankly stated: why am I even saying this, you know what to do.

"Falx Decius, Vigilant of Stendarr," he said. He could feel the glare getting hotter. "Arrested for the crime of attacking my Nord friend and the subsequent guards that tried to stop me." Falx would have gone on about the vampiric threat if thought it would have made any difference. It hadn't in any step until now. As long as a vampire wasn't chewing off the face of someone in power, then they were just a myth in the public's eye.

The captain waved him on. He moved to stand with Tora and the khajiit, whose name he hadn't quite heard. "Looks like Stendarr isn't having any mercy on you today," someone said. Falx didn't catch who, considering the varied crowd around them. He sighed but attempted a smile. The Nord looked quite distraught, and he wasn't about to seem like a small, prideless thing.

"Stendarr has mercy upon us all," he said.

---

 

[BlueFlameNikku]

Gulauk scoffed at the cat man's details regarding how pointless it was to fight one's way out of this. At this point the orc figured his words were being wasted on the people in the cart. They clearly weren't akin to an orc's way of life nor of course did he expect them to understand. However, the orc managed a smile and chuckle as the one woman wonderfully threatened whoever put her in chains and watching them die. "Hahaha, that one's got the right idea now." The orc saying jovially probably showing some ounce of happiness for the first time while in the cart and probably for the last few days even.

As the carts moved through town Gulauk didn't pay much mind to all the stares as they meant nothing to him; just a bunch of townsfolk sitting outside to watch a deathly spectacle not done by their own hands. The orc stepped down off the cart next, it noticeable raises a little as a heavy green burden was lifted from it. He approached the Imperial captain with his ridiculous sized difference and gave him his name before the captain could ask. "Gulauk Ruusgar." Slightly irritated the captain then asked the crime to which the towering orc responded. "Probably showing some of your soldiers how a real warrior fights." He remarked before he was quickly hit in the back of his knees with the pommel of a sword; grunting in annoyance and a little pain but he didn't fall to his knees. He was then escorted/shoved over to join the rest who were already marked on the list.

 

[Nanashi]

The Imperial's words of advice went in one ear and swiftly out of the other. Sorris was well aware of their impeding end. With all the guards, prisoners, and feigning aura of hopelessness consuming the air it was hard to forget. Even so it couldn't distract him from his own self loathing. He remained silent for the rest of the trip until they passed through the threshold of Helgen, to the notification of General Tullius, the military governor of Skyrim. He was familiar with his name, but not his face, catching it out of the corner of his eye watching him converse with the Thalmor. His attention quickly broke from him to switching between every pair of prying eyes that rested upon him as they passed.

His hearing picked up subtle whispers in the crowds attached to deep cutting glares and scowls. Most Nords of Skyrim initially despised Elves from the beginning. But Sorris knew why he merited such attention. He could read their lips as he heard the subtle phrases. Murderer, bastard. knife ear, monster; all words he'd become all too familiar with. Some would look upon him in fear as the carts came to a halt, and began to unload the unfortunate souls to their doom. He would take note of these few he conversed with. If they were all going to die together, he may as well have known who. With such a shortage on time it seemed irrelevant, but time has always been an abnormality. First went the Khajiit male who seemed to have more than his fair share of words to say before the block, and was met with fair retaliation. Sorris had to admit, he could take a punch for a Cat. Ri'zhid was his name, clever and somewhat refined for his dialect. Next came the Nord female who's bark didn't match her bite, seeing as she had nothing smart to say upon her calling. Nor when she was scolded from the crowd, not a response in sight. After came the the middle-aged Imperial, Falx was his name. A vigilant of Stendar accused of what basically the Imperials classed as murder and assault. Considering their line of work it could've been a misunderstanding, but what would an explanation do for him now? Last came the beastly sized Orc, Gulauk he announced himself to be, staying as proud and as prideful until the end. The Imperials didn't do much good trying to intimidate and manhandle him like a stouter adversary.

"Next prisoner," the Captain announced only to suddenly catch herself on her breath. Sorris began taking his steps towards her patiently, taking his time to peer at every pair of eyes locked on his position. "I know you..." She stated, Sorris taking one step closer letting his height tower her.

"Name and crime," said the aid as he looked from Sorris to the book. "Sorris Kain," he trailed off, pausing for moment when the audience broke in a choir of gasps and whispers. "Butcher of Darkwater." Upon finishing his words the aid tensed in his stance, pressing into the page and piercing it with ink. The gathered crowd would roar with chatter and gossip of "the butcher." The female captain stepped back before waving him off. Sorris took a single step before the same cocky guardsman with his blade came at his back and rudely shoved him. He reacted as only his instincts demanded, by turning and swiftly kicking him in his groin, then delivering a finishing headbutt. The area would sound a loud, fleshy crackling sound as Sorris broke the soldier's nose on his forehead sending him wailing in pain. This beckoned two other guards to react, drawing their sword and crossing them at his neck to escort him to the block.

"Act up again, and I'll give the execution a break for the day..." said one, before withdrawing.

 

[Archmage Jeremiah]

Since stepping off the carriage, and feeling the cobblestone path made cold by the brisk Nordic morning underneath her bare, paw-like feet, Tiajia was stricken with the oddest sense of déjà vu. The sensation was only amplified each time a prisoner would tell the captain their name and offense before being ordered to the block. She cringed when Ri'zhid was struck, though as Tora went without a fuss, Tiajia instead looked outward, at the Thalmor guards whose mere presence and sheer number unearthed buried memories. As a couple more of the prisoners went peacefully, their words faded into little more than a constant hum intermittently rising and falling in volume, while the captain's words took full command. They gripped Tiajia like cold steel gauntlets wringing her neck - commanding the subjugated Khajiit's full attention while she faced death. And like a a strangled Khajiit, Tiajia's heart began to race, and she was unable to pry her eyes away from the one strangling her - the captain - even as blades were drawn on Sorris.

"Name and crime, prisoner!" barked the captain. Tiajia gasped and flinched in response - filled with horror upon finally meeting the captain's gaze. She had not heard the captain call "Next!" or even felt herself step before her, nor could she stop herself from cowering in the captain's presence. Tiajia flinched again upon hearing the captain release a scoff of a laugh and say "Is the cat scared to meet its maker?" in a mocking tone. Tiajia could feel her smirk. She could not see it, but she knew it was there, from the deepest, most anxious pit in her heart. "Name. And. Crime!" the captain repeated. Tiajia swallowed hard, and answered, after a thoughtful pause "Nemorabet. Petty theft, and smuggling Skooma..." The captain turned to her assistant who was now skimming his list, then skimmed it again, and again, before appearing confused. "None of the prisoners on this list go by-"

"Ask the alimer," Tiajia lifted her head, but only slightly. She was glaring down a nearby Thalmor guard, still hunched over, and steering her eyes clear of the captain's figure. Both the captain and her assistant turned to find the same guard. "You, Thalmor, front and centre," the captain ordered. Taken off-guard after being issued a command by an Imperial captain, the Thalmor guard cocked his head back, then at Elewen, who silently nodded at him. With a shrug, the Thalmor guard approached. "You have my ear,"

"The cat calls herself "Nemorabet" and isn't on the list," the captain explained, which appeared to pique the Thalmor guard's interest. He faced Tiajia, who bared her fangs at him, and the guard met her in kind with a grin. "My, you're every bit as feral as I've heard, Khajiit," he mocked. The captain narrowed her eyes at the Thalmor, who leaned in to whisper in her ear something that...apparently didn't sit well with the captain. She looked at him, appalled, as he leaned away. Immediately, the high elf turned defensive. "Here I thought I had you pegged for a racist..." he muttered. "What was that, knife-ears?" the captain responded. The Thalmor guard turned away to point at the assistant's list. "I said this is her, right here. Tiajia," he said instead to the captain's assistant, who aptly thanked him for the assistance. The Thalmor guard just scoffed and returned to his post. Afterwards, Tiajia hung her head again, and the captain looked down upon the defeated Khajiit with a new ounce of...pity, it seemed. "To the block, prisoner. You're holding up the line," the captain commanded, still required to perform her duties. Tiajia did so without question - anything to put distance between herself and the captain again.​

 

[Zelosse]

Pleasantries aside, Fen had elected to humor the last bit of the ride with a renewed focus on his meditation. Only one shot at survival and a lot of it seemed to hinge on one casting. A single spell out of all the ones he had diligently mastered and none of them were useful against so many guards in the middle of a stronghold. Perhaps 20 feet and 30 seconds of freedom before an arrow took him in the heart from behind like a coward instead of head on like a man.
That would be how he died.

"Name and crime, Prisoner."

Coughing to clear his throat, he called out loud enough for everyone gathered to hear him. If only for one last time to be remembered as a man worth remembering in days passed.

"Fen Dunwyr, the king in copper. Archmage and Nobleman of High Rock, former adviser to the Emperor. I am accused of sabotage. In truth, my sin is seducing the captain of your guard to meet me unclothed in her own chambers instead of guarding the walls."