Greetings again. Steve here. I have decided not to address my journal as “Journal” each entry, as it can get tiresome and repetitious. Not that I couldn’t use some mundanity to my life as of late. I tried to get some sleep, but my thoughts would not let go of the previous day’s events.
So when I last left off, I had just run, my hands tied, into a tower in Helgen, away from an unexpected dragon attack (as most dragon attacks were at the time.) I was now trapped securely in there with condemned jarl Ulfric Stormcloack (whose cloak did look pretty nice, by the way), Braelof The Friendly Nord, and some other random injured guy.
I was prepared to wait out the attack within the stone walls, but Braeolf wasn’t having it. “We need to move! Now!” I wasn’t sure what made him the expert on dragon safety, but he seemed to be the only one with a semblance of a clue, so I followed his instructions, which were “Up through the tower! Let’s go!”
Up through the tower? But wasn’t that where the dragon was waiting? But again, who was I to argue, so up the stairs I scampered, goaded by Ulfric’s concern that the dragon might bring down the whole tower. I’d say we were already brought down by the proceedings before the dragon ever showed up, but whatever.
I was halfway up the flight of stairs, when BOOM! The dragon smashed its head through the wall as if to say, “Oh yeah!” And then scorched the entire immediate vicinity with its firey breath. I flattened up against the wall so that my hairs were merely singed. The dragon had flown away, much to my relief, but Braelof wanted me to jump out the newly-formed hole and over to the inn. Which made no sense to me, after we’d gone through all the trouble of putting solid wall between us and the dragon. Even if it had just proven that it could break through it like papyrus.
Not knowing what else to do, and counting on my (very) cat-like reflexes, I jumped across, and mid-jump I heard him say, “We’ll follow when we can!” Which sounded rather noncommital. Did this mean I was the bait, or a distraction? Terrific.
Sufficed to say, I made the jump okay, though I did land in some burning debris, which hurt a bit. Everything was on fire, with few exceptions. People were panicking and running around, while the dragon circled overhead doing that thing it does.
A few people got out of the way just as the dragon touched ground and let out another firey blast in my general direction. Luckily for me, it stopped just short of where I was. Had I run outside of the ruined inn, I might have been toast for sure.
“Still alive, prisoner?” It was the clipboard guy, who had already forgotten I was Steve. “Keep close to me if you want to stay that way.” I wasn’t sure I wanted to trust the guy who had assumed I was a troublesome caravaner, but in firey light of the circumstances, I was in no position to be picky.
He told an old man to watch some kid, and talked of joining General Tullius in the defense (great, what was I getting into?) And the old man said, “gods be with you, Halvar.” So his name was Halvar. If we survived this, I would be sure to send him a gift basket in gratitude. I wasn’t sure where Braelof was at that point, but his advice hadn’t been too helpful so far, so I wasn’t going to worry about him.
I ran as best I could behind Halvar, looking up above to make sure nothing was about to rain down upon me, when suddenly he shouted, “Stay close to the wall!” Not knowing why, I hugged the neartest wall, just as the dragon landed RIGHT on TOP Of it with a loud, trouser-soiling THWUMP! Its taloned, poorly moisturized wing was mere inches from my whiskers, so close that I could smell it. Kinda smelled like a really old Argonian, mixed with rotten eggs. It’s an aroma I don’t recommend experiencing, and not just because of the dragon proximity required.
I thought for sure it was going to spot me and have me for a mid-fight snack, but instead it just took a pot-shot at some soldiers and then flew back up into the sky. Halvar told me to quickly follow him, so I did. He could have told me to spin in circles screaming like a Khajiit child, and I’d have probably done that, too. I was very susceptible to instruction at this point.
As we ran through the gutted buildings, I spotted numerous things I’d have liked to loot, but with my hands tied (plus a rampaging fire lizard above), that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. And what’s the point in loot if you don’t live to spend it, as the old Khajiit saying goes.
We rounded a corner where numerous soldiers and a mage were fighting the dragon, which I couldn’t help but find a bit ridiculous. I mean, who could possibly expect to fight a dragon and win? The only win here was survival, in my opinion, which meant getting as far away from it as possible, and possibly hiding until it got bored. I eyed the fortress gate, but it was shut and probably locked, so I resignedly followed Hadvar (not Halvar, I was mistaken before) to the Keep.
Hadvar called back to me, “It’s you and me, prisoner!” Again with the not calling me Steve. I could see this getting annoying rather quickly. Why even ask someone their name if you’re not going to remember it? Though in his defense, things had gotten a tad hectic since he asked, plus he thought I was going to be dead, so there wasn’t much reason to remember who I was. Still, if he was going to form this alliance of necessity, he could at least ask, “What was your name again?”
But then we saw Braelof, whom Hadvar called a traitor. Oh, so we weren’t busy enough to keep grudges, I take it? Interesting. And then they had a brief argument in which I was apparently on both sides. To be honest, I was on my side. I didn’t know these people. I was on the side of not dying. Sign me up for that.
So I had a choice: did I follow Hadvar into the Keep and avoid certain firey doom, at the risk of possibly being executed later? Or follow Braelof into the Keep and avoid certain firey doom, at the risk of possibly having my ear talked off later? At that point, the answer was clear. I would follow Hadvar into the keep. No offense, Braelof.
I took one last glance around, only to discover the dragon suddenly landing right in front of me, and about to strike, when Hadvar shoved me into the Keep and slammed the clearly dragon-proof door behind him.
[To be continued in Chapter 02.]
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