User blog:Shezza123/Of Men and Dragons - Unbound: Chapter Two

Fredas, The 17th of Last Seed, 4E 201

Everything seemed numb to Hastor. He hadn't put up a fight, or explained that he was in the wrong place, for he knew it would be futile. Even though he could easily use magic to escape, the life of an outlaw would not be a fun one. He hadn't even flinched when Lokir made a run for it, and was riddled with a barrage of arrows (although he did find it rather ironic that Lokir's last words had been, "You're not gonna kill me!").

He had accepted his fate in Sovngarde, of course. He would finally be able to see Papilio Pretium, the only friend he'd ever had. And his mother, Tabia Letrand. What pained him most was how sad Eurana, his older sister would be. This would surely break her. He figured his father would be, at most, minorly inconvenienced. Either way, the Imperial captain was now calling for Hastor.

"Next, the Lord from Glenumbra!" She shouted. Hastor hated being called a lord. Although it was his legal title, he only had it because of his father, Maletusdon, was part of House Letrand, one of High Rock's richest and most influential families. He hated being associated with, in his mind, the most classist, stuck-up, pretentious arsehole that was his father. Hastor's thought's were quickly interupted by a low rumbling, which shook the town. This was not the first time it had sounded, and it was louder now.

"There it is again," said one of the Legion soldiers, "Do you hear that?"

"I said, next prisoner!" The captain's tone of voice made it clear that she was not to be ignored again.

"To the block Lord Letrand," said a legionnaire, "Nice and easy."

Hastor silently made his way to the chopping block. He didn't feel like crying like most would. His legs didn't have the heavy feeling he expected them to. Most of the standers-by would might have been worried by how calm he looked, but he was dying inside. And he supposed, soon on the outside, too. A strong foot pushed him down onto the chopping block.

"There's something in the clouds!" Cried a townsperson. A large, winged, black shape was making it's way toward the city, a firey glow surrounding it.

"No...." Hastor told himself, "That can't be a-"

"DRAGON!" Shouted a soldier.

The beast swept up the headsman in a flash, and then spoke in some sort of ancient tongue, "Zu'u Alduin. Feyn se jun. Al se lein. Zu'u fen kipraan hin zii, joor!" Hastor hadn't any idea how, but he understood what it said: ''I am Alduin. Bane of kings. Destroyer of worlds. I am here to feast on your souls, mortals!''

"Guards, get the towns-people to safety!" General Tullius shouted. "Mister Letrand, come with me! The eight won't give us another chance!" With Tullius were two legionaires. The four men made there way to a tower, which Tullius slammed behind them.

"General Tullius," said one of the soldiers, removing his dented helmet, "What was that bloody thing?" Could the legends be true?"

"Last I checked, legends don't burn down villages, Hadvar. Mister Letrand, come here so that I can get those bindings off." The general produced a knife, and cut the leather strips from Hastor's wrists. "Are you a skilled fighter?" He asked.

"Not to brag, but I'm unmatched as a mage," Hastor said, nervously juggling a lightning bolt from hand to hand.

"Good. There's still hope we can pardon you, if you can help fight through this." Tullius said.

"Pardon me?" Hastor asked.

"That is, if we get out of this without being sent to Aetherius. I knew you weren't ment to be in that cart the moment I layed my eyes on you, but by Akatosh, no sane man would argue with Elenwen. But if we manage to get you out fighting, I can put in more than a few good words for you. Anyway, enough chit-chat. We need to go, up through the tower. Havar, Caius, come on!"