Town

The small town was bustling at this time of day. The sun was high in the sky and the heat scorched Sorbithor. He knew if he wanted to survive the night, he would want a room at the inn. However Sorbithor was from far away, in a place over the mountains. He could remember that, but nothing else as of now. Everything, even the recent events were fuzzy and blurry. He saw an iron-smith working his little forge, and went up to him to ask for directions, needing to find a place to relax and also alert about a dragon in the area. He approached the smith.

“What do you need son?” said the smith, standing up from the forge, hot iron in hand. His body was sweating profusely, beads of sweat hissing as they hit the hot iron and evaporated.

Sorbithor started explaining the attack, and how he managed to get out of the keep.

“You need to go to Jarl Balgruuf,” replied the smith. “He needs to send troops, as a dragon would wipe Riverwood off the plane.”, “I think it would be better if you didn’t hang around here.” he continued, “As after escaping the imperials may catch you and attack you for abandoning their men. I can offer you some spare gold and weapons to help you get there, so take your pick Sir and may Talos see your way be safe.”