Deserter - Prologue

• Posted by FishDout June 17, 2015 - 1,001 views

  

  'This must be it, then. The calm before the storm.' 

  The day's last light painted Whiterun hold's grassy plains vivid crimson shades. Towering over surrounding structures, Dragonsreach cast an ominous, jagged shadow over the southern prairie that engulfed whole buildings, and outlined a path to the city for a rapidly advancing horde of Stormcloaks. Whiterun was at war. 

  The shadowed form of a Hold Guard stood high on the City's outer wall - one of the many Guards that made up Whiterun's first line of defence. Faceless, nameless, and united they stood; not a soul dared make a sound to interrupt the grim serenity the impending battle had brought with it... save for one voice.

  'This must be it, then. The calm before the storm,' the owner of the voice repeated, with more than a hint of boredom.

  The Hold Guard's silhouetted figure turned its head, and the owner of the silhouette narrowed his eyes beneath his helmet in the direction of the sound. 

  'Who's the loudmouth?' He whispered to a neighbouring guard. All those employed by the Jarl to protect Whiterun were trained to be living embodiments of discipline, which was why - despite his unease - the Hold Guard had refrained from making asinine comments about the coming battle. 

  'The Jarl's Thane,' his companion breathed back. 'Balgruuf insisted he join the defence.'

  The Guard clenched his jaw. No doubt, the Thane was used to a cushy existence, and had no experience with warfare whatsoever. He'd most likely get in the way of the synergic machine that was the Whiterun Guard. Before the Guard could voice his concerns, however, the Thane slid off the wall and sauntered towards the wooden barricades... and towards the approaching Stormcloaks. 

  So the Thane was suicidal, then. No matter. No amount of idiocy would prevent Whiterun's protectors from doing their jobs. The deep blue of the Stormcloak uniforms began to come into view, nearing the outer wall. The sun had set completely, denying the surrounding area any natural light. Whiterun was mere feet from battle now, but before the Guard tensed for the fight, he stole a final glance at the seemingly self-destructive Thane. 

  Even seconds away from war, the Thane's figure stood defiant, his imposing pose overshadowed by the outter wall. The light from a nearby fire glinted briefly on his helmet, and the Guard could almost swear he saw the fool smiling. The Thane's lips parted ever-so-slightly; and a deafening roar shook the world.

  Once again, the Hold Guard was plunged into the familiar, steel-clad embrace of Skyrim's civil war. 

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