Siege of Skyrim

Chapter 1

But first, let us see just how Lucas got into this situation...

It was a damp evening in the small city of Falkreath. Rain fell from the sky hammering on the roof like a thousand small feet, creating an endless drumming sound. Lucas didn't envy the guards patrolling outside in this weather. His lute rested against the side of the chair he was sat in and a cup of Canis Root Tea sat on the table next to him. Lucas was a bard, and he came to this inn every night to perform. Being a bard was the way he made a living, and it payed quite well. Not as well as it could though, because Falkreath was allied with the Stormcloaks and he was an Imperial.

He stood up and picked up his lute. "This is a classic, and one of the first songs I ever learnt: Ragnar the Red." He announced, beginning to strum the tune on his lute.

"Oh,
There once was a hero named Ragnar the Red
Who came riding to Whiterun from ole Rorikstead.
And the braggart did swagger and brandish his blade
As he told of bold batts and gold he had made.
But then he went quiet did Ragnar the Red
When he meet the Shield-Maiden Matilda who said
'Oh you talk and you lie and you drink all our mead
Now I think it high time that you lie down and bleed!'
And so there came bashing and clashing of steel
As the brave lass Matilda charged in full of zeal.
And the braggart named Ragnar was boastful no more
When his ugly red head rolled around on the floor!"

Lucas was met with applause when he finished, and there was some gold handed to him. "Very good! I like that song!" Called out a burly Nord in iron armour. Lucas bowed, "Thank you!" He said before sitting back down. The relative calm of the evening was shattered by a scream from outside. Everyone in the inn leapt to their feet and ran outside.

The scream had come from a woman dressed in a revealing gown, and a dead guard lay at her feet. He had been struck in the head by an arrow. Lucas looked to see where the arrow had come from, and saw around thirty Imperial soldiers lead by a cloaked man. "People of Falkreath!" He announced, "You have nothing to fear! I am a general of the Legion, sent here to take this town back from the rebel scum! The only ones of you who should be fearful are those who ally themselves with the Stormcloaks!" The cloaked general announced. He jerked a thumb at a blaze on the other side of town where the Jarl's Longhouse was. "Come with us and you shall not be harmed!" The general finished.

The iron-clad Nord who had congratulated Lucas stepped forward.
"Not be harmed? Like hell! I know what you Legion brutes are like! You cut off my brother's head because he said a positive thing about Ulfric! He didn't any himself with them, but he was still harmed. And I'm not about to leave my home town to you bastards!" The Nord yelled. Several more stepped up alongside him, including Lucas.
"You're all fools," The general replied. "Kill them." He ordered.
"But sir, they're just civilians." A soldier protested.
"And you're just a soldier. Now do as you're told, unless you want to be flayed." The general hissed. The Legionairre crumbled under this threat. "Y-y-yes s-sir." He stammered before drawing his sword.
"So, you want a fight? Well then it's a fight you'll get!" The Nord yelled, drawing his axe. The others drew their weapons: daggers, rusty swords and the like. Lucas held his lute like a club. The small resistance ran at the Imperials.

Several of them were killed almost instantly. The iron-clad Nord wasn't among them. He was a whirl of axe strokes and fists, and Lucas saw at least ten Legion troops fall to the Nord before a hail of crossbow bolts brought him down. An Orc with two maces went into a berserker rage, slaughtering Imperials left right and center. Lucas was so caught up in watching the Orc and Nord slay the attackers, he had almost forgotten he was amongst the resistance. He only remembered when the general pinned him to the wall by the chest. "You were a foolish Imperial. And now you'll pay the price." The general snarled. Lucas smashed him over the face with his lute and the general staggered away. "Get that bard!" The general yelled. Lucas couldn't seek refuge with the other civilians, they'd probably turn him in. So he ran. He heard the general yell, "Well don't just stand there you fools! Get him!" By which time Lucas was already out of the gate.

Lucas's legs ached from the run. He was more of a short distance sprinter than a long distance runner. He could hear voices not far behind. He couldn't outrun them so he had to hide. He jumped down the nearest drop he saw, and tumbled. There was a strange black pool down here, and he got in, hoping to the Nine that it wasn't poisonous. He heard the braying of horses and then voices. "Woah, woah!" He heard a Legionairre call as he stopped his horse. The soldier turned to his companions. "Spread out. He could be hiding down there." The soldier ordered. Lucas had only his head peeking out of the pool, and he hastily pulled some floating foliage over him. He heard the soldiers boots hit the floor as they dismounted their horses. Two men came down the drop where he was. Lucas held his breath as they approached.

He could hear them beating away shrubs to look for him. "Nothing." The soldier finally announced. "Hey, what about in here?" Another asked. "No way. That's the old Dark Brotherhood sanctuary, it's all collapsed and burnt up. Anyway, you'd never get in without the password. And everyone who knows it escaped or got killed. And that bard ain't one of them." The first soldier replied.
"I suppose. C'mon, let's head back." Lucas listened as the men went back to their horses and rode away.

He waited another few minutes before getting out of the pool in case it was a trick. Strangely, when he exited the pool he was as dry as when he had gotten in. He looked at the strange pool and realized, with disgust and horror, that the "foliage" he had pulled over himself had been half of a decomposing Penitus Oculatus soldier. He gagged and was nearly sick.
'Yep. Never standing up to the Legion again. Never supporting them either though.' He thought to himself.