FUS RO DAH!
The sound of the mighty Thuum echoed all across the plains of Whiterun, a sound so powerful it froze every fighter on sight.
This was the siege of Whiterun, a battle to gain the most advantageous hold in all of Skyrim, the battle that will decide the victor.
At least...
That was before the Dragonborn came.
The formation of imperial and Whiterun guards began to part, freezing the Stormcloaks, their breath ragged, their faces pale with fear.
Right in the middle of the parting bodies of their opponents wasn't just a warrior, it was a demigod, the chosen of Akatosh, the imperial legion's biggest trump card.
"T-this... It's the dragonborn!"
"Talos save us..."
The sounds of terrified stormcloaks were music to the legion's ears, but despite that, one stormcloak began to move.
Bjorn Hrothgard, wearing the equipment of your average stormcloak, hide armor with blue paint, an issued steel sword, but with the might and cold of Shor.
"Hail Dragonborn... let us see who gets to see Sovnegarde this day."
*** Months before - Before the hero who faced the Dragonborn stood upon the fields of Whiterun, he was just Bjorn Hrothgard, farmer, son of the North, and foolish enough to dream that one man could change Skyrim. ***
It was just a normal chilly day in Windhelm, another day, another struggle for survival.
And this is my story.
CHCK! CHCK! CHCK!
"Another day of hard work, eh, Bjorn?"
Torsten Cruel-Sea spoke, the owner of Hollyfrost Farm.
"Anything to live another day, ey?"
I replied, covered in sweat despite the tough, endless winter that covered Windhelm, the Nordic blood within me was enough to keep me going.
"Say, lad, what about you join the Stormcloaks?"
Torsten offered, his arms crossed as he leaned on the stone wall of his house, a proud supporter of the rebellion.
"The stormcloaks?" I replied, taking a break from plowing the fields as I considered his suggestion.
"Aye, the pay's good, and the glory along with it should be better than working the fields."
Torsten laughed. He was a kind boss, at least, kind to Nords like me.
"You don't mind losing a worker?"
"As long as you find a job that serves a better purpose, lad, like fighting for Skyrim."
Torsten replied with a smile, approaching me and handing me a pouch of coins for the day's work.
"Here, a bonus from me, think of it as a gift, eh?"
I laughed at his generosity. What was with him today?
"A bonus? That's special. What's the occasion?"
Torsten only chuckled, slapping me in the back lightheartedly as he urged me to head back to the city; night was coming after all.
"Don't think too much about it, and give my suggestion some thought, got it?"
I could only give him a respectful nod; it was too big a decision to agree on, but it was good to have extra gold in the savings nonetheless.
"Of course, boss."
"Now off you go!"
*** Windhelm ***
As soon as I entered the familiar sights of the city, I was met with trouble immediately.
It was Rolff and Angrenor picking a fight with a Dunmer woman, Suvaris, a common sight, but today seemed to be special, since it seemed like he finally took notice of me.
"You, Bjorn, right? Torsten's lad?"
Rolff pointed at me, a frown on his face.
"You're a true Nord, aren't you?"
"Yes?"
"How about we do some good around here and search this Dunmer's house?"
Rolff offered in front of Suvaris; he didn't even care that she heard his plans of looting her house for whatever stupid reason he came up with.
"You have to be kidding! I am not an imperial spy!"
"Shut up, grey-skin."
Angrenor silenced her immediately; it seemed like even talking was prohibited when it came to them.
"I'll have to refuse on that, Rolff."
"Huh!? What are you-?" Rolff stuttered. "Don't tell me you sympathize with these animals?"
Those words alone were enough to convince me to finally act. I usually would ignore his antics, but now I wouldn't. If he was going to include me in his xenophobic remarks, then I had a good enough reason to knock him out.
"Did I strike a nerve? milk-drinker?"
THUD.
Rolff's smug face was immediately gone, replaced with a mark on his face as I delivered a swift punch to his face that knocked him out, the benefits of being a laborer.
Strength wasn't a problem.
"Rolff!"
Angrenor yelled out in surprise.
"You... ah, forget it, this isn't worth attracting the guards over."
Agrenor spat out, hauling Rolff over his shoulder as they both left, heading towards Candlehearth Hall.
"That was more satisfying than expected..."
Who knew punching a fellow Nord in the face would be so satisfying? Certainly, I didn't.
"You threw quite a punch."
Suvaris nodded at me before leaving, clearly pleased at my actions.
"This city is a mess..."
I mumbled, pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration. It was definitely the same Windhelm I grew up in.
"I'm guessing Rolff tangled you up in his mess?"
Captain Lonely-Gale approached me, his face filled with sympathy towards me.
"I myself can't stand him, glad to see you silenced him for me."
Lonely-Gale laughed, patting me on the shoulder before heading to Candlehearth Hall himself. It seemed like everyone in the city was finally finishing up for the night.
The interactions alone were enough to make me remember Torsten's words, to join the Stormcloaks.
While it was a messy and chaotic faction, maybe if he joined, he could reform it from the inside out.
It was a hopeful thought coming from a humble farmer like me, but... during troublesome times like this, it pains me to just stay as a bystander and watch things unfold.
"I guess I should give Jarl Ulfric a visit..."
Maybe the gods had grown tired of waiting for heroes. Maybe they'd settle for a farmer with a sword.