Ralof: Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border,
right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that
thief over there.

Lokir: Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was
nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen
that horse and been half way to Hammerfell. You there. You and me -- we
should be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.

Ralof: We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.

Imperial Soldier: Shut up back there!

[Lokir looks at the gagged man.]

Lokir: And what's wrong with him?

Ralof: Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High
King.

Lokir: Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if
they captured you... Oh gods, where are they taking us?

Ralof: I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits.

Lokir: No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening.

Ralof: Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?

Lokir: Why do you care?

Ralof: A Nord's last thoughts should be of home.

Lokir: Rorikstead. I'm...I'm from Rorikstead.

[They approach the village of Helgen. A soldier calls out to the lead wagon.]

Imperial Soldier: General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!

General Tullius: Good. Let's get this over with.

Lokir: Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me.

Ralof: Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor. And it looks like
the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do
with this.

This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod
is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny...when I
was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.

[A man and son watch the prisoners pull into town.]

Haming: Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?

Torolf: You need to go inside, little cub.

Haming: Why? I want to watch the soldiers.

Torolf: Inside the house. Now.

[The wagon stops near the chopping block.]

Imperial Soldier: Whoa.

Lokir: Why are they stopping?

Ralof: Why do you think? End of the line. Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods
waiting for us.

Lokir: No! Wait! We're not rebels!

Ralof: Face your death with some courage, thief.

[Under the Imperials' watchful eye, the prisoners start jumping out.]

Lokir: You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!

Imperial Captain: Step toward the block when we call your name. One at a time!

Ralof: Empire loves their damn lists.

Hadvar: Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm.

Ralof: It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!

Hadvar: Ralof of Riverwood. Lokir of Rorikstead.

Lokir: No, I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!

[He makes a break for it.]

Imperial Captain: Halt!

Lokir: You're not going to kill me!

Imperial Captain: Archers!

[Lokir is downed with one bowshot.]

Imperial Captain: Anyone else feel like running?

Hadvar: Wait, you there. Step forward. Who are you?

[The player picks his/her character, prompting a race-related remark.]

Hadvar: • You picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, kinsman.
• Not many wood elves would choose to come alone to Skyrim.
• You from Daggerfall, Breton? Fleeing from some court intrigue?
• You from one of the strongholds, Orc? How did you end up here?
• Are you a relative of one of the Riften dock workers, Argonian?
• Another refugee? Gods really have abandoned your people, dark elf.
• You're a long way from the Imperial City. What're you doing in
Skyrim?
• What are you doing here, Redguard? You a sellsword? A sailor from
Stros M'kai?
• You with one of the trade caravans, Khajiit? Your kind always seems
to find trouble.
• You're not with the Thalmor Embassy, are you, high elf? No, that
can't be right...

Captain, what should we do? He's not on the list.

Imperial Captain: Forget the list. He goes to the block.

Hadvar: By your orders, captain.

• I'm sorry. At least you'll die here, in your homeland.
• I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to Elsweyr.
• I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to Cyrodiil.
• I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to Orsinium.
• I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to High Rock.
• I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to Morrowind.
• I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to Valenwood.
• I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to Hammerfell.
• I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to Black Marsh.
• I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to the Summerset
Isle.

Follow the Captain, prisoner.

[The player goes to stand with the other waiting prisoners by the block.]

Tullius: Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero
doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his
throne.

Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak: (grunting protest)

Tullius: You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos and now the Empire is
going to put you down, and restore the peace.

[A distant noise rings down the mountainside.]

Hadvar: What was that?

Tullius: It's nothing. Carry on.

Imperial Captain: Yes, General Tullius. Give them their last rites.

Priestess of Arkay: As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the
Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of
Nirn, our beloved--

[One of the prisoners from the lead wagon walks forward.]

Stormcloak Soldier: For the love of Talos, shut up and lets get this over with.

Priestess of Arkay: As you wish...

Stormcloak Soldier: Come on, I haven't got all morning. My ancestors are
smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?

[They behead the Stormcloak, eliciting responses from the onlookers.]

Stormcloak Soldier 2: You Imperial bastards!

Vilod: Justice!

Ingrid: Death to the Stormcloaks!

Ralof: As fearless in death as he was in life.

Imperial Captain: • Next, the cat!
• Next, the Orc!
• Next, the lizard!
• Next, the Breton!
• Next, the Redguard!
• Next, the dark elf!
• Next, the high elf!
• Next, the wood elf!
• Next, the Nord in the rags!
• Next, the renegade from Cyrodiil!

[Another cry rings out on the mountainside, this time much closer.]

Hadvar: There it is again. Did you hear that?

Imperial Captain: I said, next prisoner!

Hadvar: To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy.

[The player is brought to the chopping block. A large creature swoops over
the southern peaks, barreling toward Helgen.]

Tullius: What in Oblivion is that?

Imperial Captain: Sentries! What do you see?

Imperial Soldier: It's in the clouds!

[The creature, know seen as a dragon, lands on a tower, surprising everyone.]

Stormcloak Soldier: Dragon!

[The dragon uses its voice on the crowd, killing the headsman.]

Headsman: Nngh!

Tullius: Don't just stand there, kill that thing! Guards, get the townspeople
to safety!

Ralof: • Hey, Argonian. Get up! Come on, the gods won't give us another chance!
• Hey, Breton. Get up! Come on, the gods won't give us another chance!
• Hey, dark elf. Get up! Come on, the gods won't give us another chance!
• Hey, high elf. Get up! Come on, the gods won't give us another chance!
• Hey, you! Get up! Come on, the gods won't give us another chance!
• Hey, Khajiit! Get up! Come on, the gods won't give us another chance!
• Hey, kinsman. Get up! Come on, the gods won't give us another chance!
• Hey, Orc! Get up! Come on.