I woke up in the back of a moving wagon.

My head hurts and I have no idea were I am. As things come into focus I notice that I am not the only person in bonds on this carriage. Directly opposite me is a man with a pale coloured face and blond braids. I notice he is wearing blue and silver chain mail – I’m sure I’ve seen that armor before.

By the looks of him I conclude he is a Nord, the natives of Skyrim, the province just above Cyrodiil.

The one on his left doesn’t look too happy. He is wearing some rags and is staring at his toes in a mortified fashion. Before I can examine the third and final person on my right, the Nord starts talking.

He blabs on about I was caught in an ambush of some kind and now we are prisoners. PRISONERS! I am a prisoner because of this stupid oaf and his minions were being so rowdy that I failed to sneak through the mountain pass and instead they trigger an ambush and I get caught up in the middle of it! I hate Nord’s. I could have easily walked on past those Imperials but instead the stupid Mountain Nord’s start getting all aggressive and the Imperials jump on them. Turns out they thought I was one of the Mountain Nord’s. The past is not what matters right now, for I have no idea were I am and I realize why the Imperials were up a mountain catching stray Nord’s – The Civil War. And this Mountain Nord sitting opposite me is not just any Nord, he’s a Stormcloak.

As we approach the fortress like town I hear one of the Imperial guards call out to another man saying something like “General Tullius sir! The headsman is waiting!” Headsman? A headsman? Like a chop-off-heads sort of headsman? But I didn’t do anything wrong! And that’s where the man next to me is identified. He is Ulfric Stormcloak. Leader of the rebellion and looks like he is also tied around the hands. The man next to the blond Stormcloak starts fretting and saying stuff about how he’s gonna die and all he did was steal a horse. And what did I do? I was just peacefully crossing the Jerall Mountains when I ended up in a full on ambush. I’m just a lonely immigrant. I’m too young to die. The Mountain Nord opposite me starts talking about the town we are entering – apparently its called Helgen. I have never heard of Helgen, I was meant to end up in Riften. That was my destination from Cyrodiil. And now I am about to be executed by the Imperials, I am an Imperial for Pete’s-sake! Well I’m a Wood Elf, but I have always agreed with the Imperial’s laws and customs. Too bad I didn’t make it through customs. Well anyway by the time we got off the wagon we were among a crowd and sure enough there was a chopping block. A man with a list asks me who I am and I tell him I’m a Wood Elf and I don’t belong here but all he says is that he will make sure my remains are returned to Valenwood. Great. Just great. This guy is obviously really caring for what all Wood Elves need.

Well that’s my head to the block. And that’s the end of that. Well it would have been if everything had gone according to that man’s list. But it didn’t. It went according to a freaking great ugly dragon jumping on the watchtower. By this time I was leaning on the chopping block thinking how badly I failed at finding my brother. The dragon was huge! It opened its mouth and groaned and huge flying boulders started falling from the heavens. The headsman dropped his axe and scrambled to safety while I thought – I would prefer get disintegrated by an angry dragon than get sliced up by a misunderstood headsman. I got to feet expecting the ground to give way into hell and scuttled as fast as I could to another watchtower. I got inside easy then realized that this tower was obviously quite popular because in came that Stormcloak and shut the door behind him. Ulfric was already there. How he got his binds off so fast and somehow appeared inside the tower I have no clue.

Well that’s splendid. I escape a dragon and end up in a tiny tower packed with rebels. The Stormcloak ( which I now learn his name to be Ralof ) starts talking to Ulfric about how scary dragons are I get bored and start walking up the tower steps. Halfway up the steps the wall to my right blows up and then spontaneously combusts as the dragon pokes his head through. OK now I’m scared of dragons.