The Imperial Paladin wasn't so much a warrior on the battlefield as a presence; a solid center to the mass of terrified Imperial soldiers that threatened to flee and scatter under the Dragon's assault. Her armor glinted underneath a grimy mixture of dust and blood, faint traces of carbon visible from where she'd been licked or burned by the remnants of the dragon's flames. Had it not been for her constant use of wards, she might've been in some distress. As it was, her faith couldn't supply the energy to protect herself again. Perhaps that's why she ducked under the shadows of the gate, holding onto her Warhammer in a fierce grip, knuckles white. "Buy time for people to leave, now! For the Empire! For Akatosh!"<br/>"For Akatosh!" Her cry was repeated by the remnants of Imperial forces, while she bent down, bolting along the battlefield towards the rampaging dragon.<br/><br/>Originally, she'd never intended to visit Helgen. The village was firmly in the hands and protection of the Imperial Military, and slightly beyond her intended route of travel. Riverwood had, apparently, cultivated some resentment against the Empire, and according to intelligence, harbored a small number of Stormcloaks. Her original purpose had been to walk in and earn the trust and respect of the village - take control of the hearts and minds, and see what happened as a result. Unfortunately, however, that plan had fallen by the wayside when the small group of Stormcloaks had been captured. Jarl Ulfric, no less. When she'd seen the traveling cart of prisoners, she'd decided it was best to accompany them, just in case. If the Jarl did get loose, she'd at least have a shot at stopping his slaughter.<br/>And thus she'd entered Helgen, deciding that her journey could Riverwood could wait just a moment longer - the news of Ulfric's death would be a boon for the Empire - and watching an execution. Somewhere along the way, she'd started fighting alongside the few Imperials left, struggling to slay a dragon. Akatosh help her, she had no idea how the two were linked, beyond Ulfric's impending death, perhaps.<br/><br/>None of this mattered, however. The dragon had, so far, slaughtered half of the Imperial Garrison on Helgen, and though she prayed that Akatosh would deliver them in his mercy, she was dimly aware of the damage and carnage around her. Helgen was lost, she decided, even as she turned her helmed head to stare at the yelling Dunmer. Even at a distance, her  dark skin shone with sweat, both from the fire's heat and the exertion of currently running. Despite her significant distaste for the race, the simple fact was that too many men had fallen for her to deny any help. Beyond that, his plan had potential. Without a second thought, she changed her path, bolting for the stairs that let up to the gate, even as her heavy armor clanking with each heavy step. "Keep him there!" she shouted, a rush of adrenaline suffusing her system, making her tired body carry on - for just a moment longer.<br/><br/>As long as Akatosh gave her breath, she would fight in his name.<br/><br/><span style="font-size: 9px"><i>level 34 pally tank lfg helgen</i></span><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>