NOTE - I wanted to get into the Fanfiction Contest, but I was 'busy' - and we all know how asshole-ish that excuse is. So here's a little something to satisfy my i-must-post urge. Hope you enjoy.
THE VULTURE
An Empire at war with itself. An empire where one can follow one path or another, and there's no middle way. An empire where one must choose between family and belief, never both.
You love it.
Never being the strongest or the fastest - nor the smartest - you have had to make do with leftovers all your life. The scraps left behind by the high and mighty, the honorable, the stupid, and now - the unfortunate. That's why the sight of Helgen in smoking ruins gives you an erection a thirteen year old might be proud of.
That's right, a thirteen year old (Hah!).
The dragon just made everything so easier. The whole village is dead. Its a large graveyard. A crypt without traps, without the undead draugr (hell yeah!) and lots and lots of cheap loot probably half-burnt to crisp (damn!!).
You decide that now you love dragons too.
Aren't you one positive son of a bitch! Where was this optimism and confidence when your day began, huh?? Now that you think back, so many scary, life-threatening, vomit-inducing, trouser-wetting events come into mind that you involuntarily shit yourself a little (as if its ever voluntary, duh!). But only a little, you tell yourself.
(Way to comfort yourself, dude)
So how did your day begin...
It began with you waking up from unconsciousness. You are bound very tightly, sitting on a wooden cart with other men shackled likewise and surrounded with very dangerous looking guards. This state of awareness is short however, for you faint -once again- when you come to know that you're going to be executed. But only after you let out a We-Are-All-Gonna-Die scream.
Hmm. That wasn't cool, man. Not one bit. Continue...
Then two things happen at once - you are pulled up from your faintiness (yeah I made a word, deal with it!!) and the cart at the same time, and you fall down on your face.
"Damn! You are one ugly butt-hole", an Imperial officer exclaims. He has a roll of parchment and a quill in his hands. You were scared at first, and still are, but you're a bit pissed now, and I'm not talking about the bit in your pants. So this is what you say-
"By the Divines! Have the legends come true?! The Imperials can read and write! What is this world coming too?"
You feel elated when you hear a smattering of laughter from the spectators. You deflate, however - or rather your testicles do - when the officer kicks you between the legs (Ooh, that hurt).
That was rather, err... ballsy of you (Hah!)
"Legends don't kick you between the legs, fool!", he spits out. That was very bad (for you), but really, should you be waging word-wars with a man wearing armoured boots? You crumple to the ground, cradling your marbles-of-manhood (Yikes!). Becoming a father was never on your to-do-list, but still.
"What shall we do with him? He's not on the list.", he says to the woman next to him. The woman with armour personally customised for her boobs. ( Yes, you are staring)
You wonder if they're real...
"Fuck the list! He goes to the block." Damn, metal-boobs is cruel. You try to burn her with the heat of your hatred-filled eyes. But it doesn't work (oh so close, no?). The officer mumbles something about throwing your remains to the dogs or something, but you don't pay attention. You just saw a poor bastard get his head struck off. Its not something you've never seen before, but its beauty never fails to awe you.
For God's sake, just admit you're scared out of your wits and shaking like the newest sex-toy sold by the Agents of Dibella.
"Now the... Are you crying?! Is he crying?!", you manage to shock the Imperial Captain.
(Achievement- you Cried before you Died)
You step forward to meet your death. In this case, a fat smelly man with a big, fuck-off axe. You are so dead, if you don't mind the obvious being stated. (Like somebody gives a shit what you mind or don't)
You kneel in front of the bloody, hacked wooden block, a mixture of tears and snot running down your nose. You try not to lick it. Don't!! Don't you dare lick it! Keep your tongue inside your mou... Oh God you licked it! Suddenly it happens. Down comes a dragon and starts burning stuff. Its a dragon, what the fuck is it supposed to do? People start shouting. All seems lost. But its not so.
Over the roaring and burning and falling-of-building sounds, nobody hears the shrill, high-pitched, very lady-like scream that rips its way out of your scrawny throat.
(Well, that's something)
Then it suddenly hits you.
Its not an idea, a solution , a vision or a premonition. You never seem to get hit by those. You get hit by a rock.
The last thing you remember is the feeling of being lifted into the air, that wonderful sense of floating.
You flap your arms...
