I posted this story almost seven years ago back when this site was Waiting4Oblivion.com, I just noticed it again and thought that since it was set in Skyrim, somebody might enjoy reading it. It is about a fictional village that was besieged by imperial troops. Little did I know that many years after it was written, that the Empire would be in shambles and Skryim would actually be in the middle of a civil war in which something like this could happen.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Many do not know of the place where the last unconquered nords stood when the empire began its reign and many would not believe if they were told the story. I must try, I shall tell you of a place long forgotten, a place of a legend that was never recorded.

There once was a brute of a man called Horden the Brawler, a strong and stubborn nord with many followers, who left his home on a grand adventure.

After many years of adventure he grew famous and wealthy. With his wealth he set off in search of the perfect place to build his home where he would retire.

He searched far and wide for this perfect place and finally, Horden found it, just atop a small hill overlooking a vast plain. The location was perfectly situated west of the nordic town of Solitude and just east of the border of High Rock so that people could stop and rest on their travels, sharing mead and song as was customary in Skyrim.

Valden started as just a small shed and slowly grew into a large colony in which the people lived close, giving to those among them who needed and recieving as needed like brothers and sisters did. The town's location drew many adventurers and smugglers to it and eventually it became a large town filled with friends and warriors alike, all of which were brothers and sisters in arms.

It had been many years since the town was founded when a messenger showed up of imperial origin who told Horden that he must swear his service to the empire or his estate would be taken. Horden, who bore no love to the empire, gave his answer and after the messenger left he began setting up defenses.

The enormous wooden keep of the clan-leader stood upon a small mound overlooking the village. Several hundred yards stood between the keep and the place where the crude wall of wooden spikes began, their slanted design made them useful for stopping cavalry invasions, forcing the attacker to fight the nord warriors up close and personal where they had the advantage.

The keep itself had two floors with only a rope ladder leading to the upper level where the archers stayed on watch. The bottom level was one room where a large feast was held on a regular basis but it now was gloomy and silent, even the fire in the center of the dark room dared not make a sound.

The nords in the upper level peered through the windows holding their bows close to them, practicing drawing arrows from their quivers while watching the other nords in the courtyard below as they grouped together. Many types of armor blended in the crowd, leather, steel, and iron were all mixed, few of the warriors had full suits of anything. Nords and various other races alike, all were residents of Skryim and would fight to their last breath to protect their homes. The few nords that had yet to enter the courtyard were silently painting their faces next to Horden's throne in the great hall.

After painting his face with a pale blue mixture, Horden stood from his chair and stepped toward the entrance. As he steps outward he peers outward toward the mountains south of them to see the silver lines marching toward the village. A sea of silver armor and torches marched towards them, unhalted by the heavy rain.

The clouds rolled and moved about in the sky as the rain fell down upon the village of Valden and the dirt turned to thick brown mud. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled over the mountains from which the imperials came as if oblivion itself followed them.

As he looked out over the village, he remembered the way it once was. It had been filled with women and children laughing and conversing not long ago but soon it would be filled with imperial soldiers closing on their position.

He had refused the messenger's proposal to swear his allegiance to the emperor and because of this a small army had been dispatched, over three hundred armored men. The women and children had been moved underground into a passage under the greathall. They were outnumbered one hundred and fifty nords to three hundred or more armored soldiers, yet still the nords stood in the courtyard bravely, waiting for the arrival of the army.

Horden knew that the nords had little chance against the imperials but he refused to swear his allegiance to the emperor and perhaps with a bit of luck they would prevail. He waved to the man in one of the guard towers near the gate to blow the horn and signal the troops afore him in the courtyard that the imperials were in sight.

The horn rang out loud and clear, silencing the group of warriors populating the courtyard.

Horden plunged the iron longsword he held into the ground and raised his hands to make his final speech. The imperials were getting close now, less than a mile away and he knew that he must hurry.

"My brothers, we have built this city into a grand place! A proud town worthy of being called a nord village! I'll be damned if I live to see it taken from me!" Horden said before stopping for a moment

The men all cheered and thrust their weapons into the air, rusted swords and axes bounce up and down within the crowd. Many races of different origin jumped and yelled as if not a single one feared death.

"I will not see it under the rule of the emperor, all of the larger cities have given up now and those still willing to fight have fled here. Those brave, selfless men that are willing to fight for their freedom have come here. Look to the men beside you and know that they are heroes! Just as every man that has taken up arms shall be remembered. Let us show the emperor that we cannot be conquered! Send him a message that is loud and clear as thunder!" Horden yelled to the crowd

The men all roared again and began picking up the small nordic roundsheilds from the ground, getting ready for the onslaught.

Horden stepped back inside the greathall and breathed in the smell of the wet stone...a familiar smell that he'd hardly noticed before in all the years he'd spent there. He listened to the yelling outside as he picked up his mead from the table and took a few long drinks as he wiped the remnants of the drink from his mouth.

"'Tis good stuff, I shall miss it." Horden says to the officer next to him

His officer picked up a leather chestpiece from the floor and began to fasten it to the chest of his friend and lord.

"Good luck old friend." the subordinate said

"The same to you as well, it seems that we both shall need it." Horden laughs

Horden took the armor and began helping to lace the leather to his chest. As the imperial army closed in the nords grew even louder outside and Horden stepped out once again, rain landing upon his face but he refused to wipe it. He knew that it might be the last storm that he might enjoy.

He held his hand up to signal for the archers and they knock the arrows into their bows and wait. The imperials grew even closer and he could nearly make out the emblem on their armor. Each second that passed a small numb feeling in the pit of his stomach built as he watched the army advance, knowing that his death soon would follow. No matter, he would die in a way befitting a true nord.

"Fire!" Horden yelled as he threw his arm forward

Arrows rained down upon the imprials and screams rang out as the other soldiers continue over their fallen comrades.

The men in the courtyard let out their battle cries as the first line of imperial soldiers fall and Horden walks forward, pushing himself to the front of the nords and standing directly behind the gate.

As the wooden gate cracked and bellowed at the weight of the imperials against it Horden could see it begin to buckle. The time had come for them to fight as the front gate fell. The imperials rushed through and met with the mighty nords in fierce battle.

Horden ducked under the first blade and sliced between the greaves and chestplate of one of the imperials causing him to fall to the ground and bleed out. Yells and screams filled the battlefield as did the sound of metal clashing.

The nords were much stronger than the imperials which was obvious as the armored soldiers were pushed back outside the gates by the defenders. Horden began to believe that they had a chance and then the leader of the imperials stepped forth as if he was ready to fight. As Horden readied himself the leader pointed at him and stepped to the side.

Horden hardly saw the mass of arrows fall around him, three of which hit him in the chest. He grabbed and snapped the shafts of the arrows off before stepping forward toward the commander with his sword dragging desperately on the ground. The commander swung and Horden slapped the blade away, quickly raising his blade and slashing a deep gash into the imperial's chest in a single motion. As the light faded from the imperial's eyes, two more arrows hit Horden, one in his back and one in his leg.

Horden fell to his knees he looked around slowly as he gasped for air. The remaining nords circled him and fought the imperials bravely, fending off waves upon waves of the soldiers. Horden forced a smile right before his eyes closed and his body fell to the ground slowly, never to wake again.

They say that the nords fought the imperials off of his body for quite some time before the second wave of soldiers arrived and broke through. The men loyal to Holden were subdued and bound before their ride back to the imperial city for imprisonment. Horden's city was burned to the ground, his sword was taken for display in the imperial library, and his head was removed and displayed on a spike atop the hill where his city once stood as a reminder to those that might oppose the Empire.

The carriages transporting the brave men that fought for Horden were attacked and all of the prisoners were killed, strangely none of the soldiers escorting them were killed or even wounded, and so it was complete, the siege at Valden had never happened, all evidence was destroyed. Or so the imperials thought.

Only the women and children escaped to safety through the tunnel, I tell you this story now as one of those children so that you can pass it on to others so that the siege at Valden, may never be forgotten.

Well written sir! It would seem that Bethesda owes you a very large royalty check!

Wow, that was really ironic that it was so close! Good deal!!

That was pretty good, all in all; the general style kind of made me think of some older medieval prose pieces, and was a nicely put together short piece. The use of punctuation and grammar could probably be tightened up a bit, but overall I liked it quite a bit.

A chilling last stand – the unhappy outcome almost certain – for Valden and his defiantly brave band of Nords. And certainly not lacking in dark prophecy for TES V. Well done!

Good skills.
Had a very "vintage" feel to it and nicely done.
There were a couple of little grammatical bits in it; "bore no love for" rather than "to" but hey, that's a touch picky and the feel overall was really good, particularly in a short piece - I got the idea that it could almost have been an old poem, you know?