[color=f7941d][center][h1]TES: The Collector Chronicles[/h1][/center][/color]

[center][h2][i]Chapter One - Helgen[/i][/h2][/center]

[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/wrX3XUt.png[/img][/center]

"I'm tellin' yer," Zanvon spat. "Those Imperial scum are a bunch of incompetent skooma pigs. You wait! You'll see! We'll get there, and dear old Ulfric Stormcloak will be there to greet us. Hahaha." 

Zanvon was a Dunmer, and like most of his kind, he held a certain hatred for the Imperials. However, unlike most of his kind, he wouldn't shut up. Telling him to just didn't work, in fact, it seemed to encourage him to spout more of his mind-numbing nonsense. Ever since they'd seen the smoke rising in the distance, not just a day ago, Zanvon had been foretelling over and over how the Empire was minutes away from crumbling. 

Arielle, Aristobus and Jo'Resfo had reached the point where they just didn't care any more. Let him ramble on! If it kept him from harassing Arielle, or stealing Aristobus' books, then great! The sooner they could get that bottle of mead, the better. 60,000 septims wasn't worth that Dunmer's company, not even for a few days. 

"See! You see! The gate's closed! A raiding party don't shut the door after they leave!" Zanvon laughed, breaking into an awkward skip. "Ulfric! Ohhhhhhh Ulfric!" he sang, "How many Imperials did you kill today!?" 

The four agents of The Collector had arrived at Helgen's eastern gate. They'd encountered no Imperial patrols in the area, which was worrying given the settlement's strategical importance. More worrying however, was that they hadn't seen any of the notorious stormcloaks either. From behind the gate, pillars of smoke were still rising, and the crackling sounds of fire could be heard quite clearly on the crisp morning air. 

"Knock, knock!" Zanvon chuckled, pushing a gloved hand against one of the gates. He gave it a slight shove, and it moved with a screech. "I'll bet 30,000 of my share that we'll see a whole pile of those Imperial scumbags--- NO, no! I bet we'll see thirty Imperial heads mounted on spikes. That's one head per 1,000 septims. Who wants in on the bet? Eh? Eh?" He stopped, and gave a large toothy smile at Arielle. "How about you eh Princess? Want to take a chance with ole Zanvon? Tell ya wha-"

An arrow flew through the open gate and struck the Dunmer in the neck. His eyes went wide, and he tried to speak - but no sounds came to his lips. With a few staggers, he collapsed to the floor. 

Arielle, Aristobus and Jo'Resfo drew their weapons, just as three tall Nordic men surged through the gate. They were wearing tattered leather armour, and brandishing iron short swords. Their heads were hidden beneath horned iron helmets, but all three of their blonde beards sagged down to their chests. 

The middle Nord looked down at the slain Zanvon and spat. "Talked too much, that one," he said with a grunt. Then his eyes shifted up at Arielle, Aristobus and Jo'Resfo. "Helgen now belongs to Magnor the Black! And there's a toll to be paid for passing by. Either hand over everything you have, or--" he stopped, taking another eager look at them. "On second thoughts, you three look dangerous. Best not let you live, at 'em boys!"

The three bandits surged forwards, roaring their songs of battle. Arielle, Aristobus and Jo'Resfo stood fifty feet away from them; they had time to act, but that time was rapidly dwindling.