(This is a story of the fall of the Imperial City during the Sack of the City during The Great War in early 4E 174. Please tell me how you like it and what I should work on next.)
It has been a week since the siege of the Imperial City began, with one Legion tasked with defending it at all costs. This is my accounts of those times. My name is Johnathan Averni, a Captain of the Eighth Legion, Fourth Cohort. I am a Imperial born into a Breton family living in Cyrodiil. When I came of age, I enlisted into the Imperial Army, quickly rising through the ranks as the years passed by.
Too soon, The Great War came. And with it; the loss of a great many friends and family including my wife. It was not long before we were along the walls of the Imperial City, defending it from the ferocious attacks of the Thalmor. At this time, my Cohort was just inside of the gates readying ourselves for the coming waves of elves.
Smoke and fire filled the air as though an angry dragon swept through this once magnificent city. I would choke on the air if I breathed in too deeply, hope dwindling away among my men and myself. By now, we were the only Cohort remaining inside the city, the rest were defending the walls. We could hear the sounds of a large battle every waking moment. Even in our sleep we could hear the voices of our dyeing men, my dyeing men.
Within days parts of the wall were lain to rubble and Thalmor were pouring into the city. We fell back, closer and closer to the Imperial Palace, tacking losses with each step back. My Cohort of 40 men fell to ten brothers and sisters in arms, defending the doors to the Palace. A wall of shields around the entrance. We were the last line of Legionaries left, and I wasn't about to let the Thalmor even see a glimpse inside the Palace if I was still standing. Days without any sleep or food, we still stood there, our shields acting as a way against a merciless enemy.
Now the big question, how was I able to live? I ask myself and the nine that each day. One moment I was holding my shield against an elven swordsman; the next I am laying with my face in the dirt and my steel Captain's Armor torn off. I slowly looked in my surroundings and saw the most horrible sit I had seen to this day. The bodies of my brothers and sisters lay around me as fires burned in the White-Gold Tower, and it's smoke curled up into the sky. I slowly raised myself onto my feet searching for anything to be used as a weapon. I found a small dagger tucked between the leather skirt of one of my friends. That's when I noticed a deep gash running from my shoulder to near my heart. It looked like my armor protected me from a large part of the blow, but the cut felt deep and now was burning with pain.
I picked up the dagger with my shield hand and began to move away from the bodies. I could hear the screams and cries of those still remaining, but there was nothing I could do for them. The Thalmor wouldn't kill me, I was an Imperial Officer. They would torture me for all of the information that I could possibly give them, then they would give me a painful death. I was not about to allow the deaths of my 40 Legionaries to be for nothing. I had to make my way outside of the city and find my way to the Emperor.
That was what I tried to do, I cautiously made my way outside of the city as Thalmor flooded the streets and invaded our homes. I found a some people fleeing as well but not many. I assisted those that I could, get out of the city and away from the elves. One of the citizens wrapped a bandage around my chest and shoulder after doing away with my already torn armor.
We had finally made in out of the city as light began to pour over the horizon. We did what we could to avoid all roads and trails, but it was a difficult task. I only followed a general direction; away. Away from the sacked city, from the forty lost souls of my Cohort, away from the capitol to our great empire. None of our group knew nor cared where we were going, just away. So that is what we did.
Winter had soon come after that. We were surviving on land that was now all but unfamiliar to me. The sound of battle now a distant memory, but the trials of survival the all too present future. The cold now biting at all of us, threatening us. Hunger tugged at as and warmth seemed to turn it's back on us. I begged the nine for death, but death did not come for me. We found game and furs in an area where we thought was desolate. We handcrafted tools to cut trees down and build shelter. Using the stone and wood that we could, we made shelters and crafted our own houses. We trapped an caught our own food, fully away from everything that was going on and made our own future for ourselves. Our town is now known as The 8th. We found that we are among the border southern border of Skyrim, and have made contact with another town known as Helgen. I do hope that this book reaches someone within the greater cities of Skyrim and comes to us.