On my way to cover the annual Honningbrew tasting in Whiterun, I got sidetracked by a curve ball of a story.
A couple of horse carriages with escorting cavalry rolled past me, just when I was heeding the call of nature behind a snowberry-bush.
See a cortege escorted by armed personnel? Drop whatever’s in your hands and follow them.
– The golden rule of reporting
Of course I had to pursue this.
They were headed for Helgen, a lush, inviting town.
My expectations were high. Was it a medal ceremony? Perhaps a fancy grill party? A roast? Or a showcase of the Stormcloaks new cloaks?
Representatives from both the Imperial Legion and the Thalmor attended the event.
A gentleman named Gunnar informed me that “it was certainly not a merry cross-country carriage tour”, but an execution.
The chains and handcuffs would have made it evident these guys were prisoners, if I had just bothered to look at the clues, like a reporter should, instead of prancing along with the horse.
Again, a reminder that I need to pay closer attention to the details.
In the town square, a more dramatic scene than I had pictured, was unfolding.
One of the prisoners did not want to see the show to its end and tried fleeing the scene.
It didn’t go so well. His adventuring days were definitely over.
During the ruckus, I positioned myself at a vantage point in hope of getting some great pics.
My flash went off, which of course placed all attention on me. I forgot that none of them had ever seen a camera before, no less on a carbon fiber extension pole.
A bit of ingenious negotiation got me out of a tough spot and landed me a good one, right next to the action.
The executioner was really nice. He let me try out the chopping block and get some shots from the to-be-beheaded’s point of view.
And with that, I bought the next in line some time. Looking back, probably not a nice thing to do to someone on death row.
I didn’t see it when taking it (too focused on the B.B.B. – Badass Butcher Bozo), but look at the pic below. Find one problem with it.
At that very moment, my life flashed in review as I got ready to face the afterlife, the unknown. For the first time in my life, I faced danger with nerves of the toughest steel.
Naw, I panicked, cried and shouted something along these lines:
Here, he (or she?) wanted to display his not-exactly-subtle shouting capabilities.
Spoiler: Really, really loud. Ruptured my left ear-drum.
The vain prick stole my camera to take a selfie and document his carnage. Apparently, ancient lizards know how to work a DSLR.
I felt no obligation to risk burning to a crisp, and someone had to bring this story to the public, so I made a tactical retreat.
Can a lump of charcoal report on current events? No. So I made the right decision. Definitely. No doubt.
Okay, the guilt of leaving them to fend off a dragon eats me up inside, but nevermind that. What’s done is done. Look! Here’s a bunny heeding the call of nature: