Alright. Trying my hand at a liveblog. This will be a script, from the perspective of the Dragonborn. A male Argonian, for the purpose of A:Histskin is the best racial power IMHO, and B: For the sake of jokes to be seen later.
-A cart is being dragged through the woods. We see several people in chains. A large, imposing man it at the back, bound and gagged. A blue-scaled Argonian is beside him, also in chains and currently asleep, his tongue hanging out and resting on his neighbor's shoulder. After a few moments, the Nord elbows the lizard beside him, and he wakes up.
Argonian: Uhgh...How much mead did I drink last night?
Blond Nord: hey, you? Finally awake, then? Do you remember what happened?
Argonian: Not really. It all became a blur after the fifth of so glass of mead.
Ralof: You were trying to cross the border. Walked right into an Imperial trap, same as us. Well, more like stumbled into it, crashed into a tree, and passes out. The Imperials dragged you off too, along with that thief.
Lokir: Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If it weren't for you I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell.
Argonian: I thought there was really tight border control around here. Wouldn't you need papers or something to get through? And if the horse was branded like most, they would have known it was stolen.
Lokir : I....uh...shut up!
Ralof: It doesn't matter. We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.
Argonian: I don't see any women around here.
Ralof: There's always the chance someone is secretly a woman dressed as a man to go on adventures or join the army to fight. It happens all the time in books. Just making sure.
Driver: Shut up or I'll just cut off your heads and be done with it!
Lokir: What's wrong with him? -Looks towards the big guy-
Ralof: Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the True High King!
Lokir: Ulfric? The Jarl of Wildhelm? You're the leader of the Rebellion!
Ulfric: -Muffled- And I would've gotten away with it too, if it weren't for those meddling Imperials!
Argonian: So we're off to jail, then. Guess getting out on good behavior isn't an option.
Lokir: No, this isn't happening! -Begins hyperventilating-
Ralof: So, thief, what village are you from?
Lokir: -Passes out from fear-
Ralof: Never mind.
Driver: General Caesar! The headsman is waiting!
Tullius: I told you, stop calling me that!
Driver: Yes sir, General Caesar sir!
Tullius: -Sighs- Let's just get this over with.
Argonian:...Well, sucks to be you, Ulfric.
Ulfric: -Muffled- As if their weak Imperial steel can pierce the flesh of a true Nord.
Ralof Look at him. General Tullius, the military govenor. Looks like the Thalmor are with him, too. Damn elves.
Argonian: I thought elves were supposed to be nice?
Ralof: Wrong. You really need to read more.
-Silence. The horse comes to a stop, clipping through the wall.
Argonian: Huh. I must still be drunk.
Glitch Count: 1
Captain Asshole: Step towards the block when we call your names! One at a time!
-Ulfric is called to the block, and gets in line for head chopping. Ralof is next. Lokir is called, but he is still passed out on the carriage. Several guards pick im up and dump him in the crowd of prisoners.
Hadvar: Who...are you?
-The camera pand dramatically to our hero, Hunter the Argonian.
Hunter: I'm Hunter. What am I in for?
Asshole Captain: You were there with the rebels, so you're obviously one of them!
Hunter: Ow! Not so loud, I'm still hung over.
Asshole Captain: Silence! To the block now!
Hadvar: But ma'am, he's not on the list!
Asshole Captain: Forget it. He's obviously a Stormcloak in disguise!
Hunter: Greeeeat. Can I at least get my one letter?
-End of Part One.
As you can see, we've gone off the rails slightly. Lokir will be Spared By The Adaption. Two words for my plans regarding him.
Something like that.
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