As everyone had stumbled about due to the initial impact, I had braced as best as I could by squatting.  As soon as I could move, I stood and glanced at the tower nearby that the Dragonborn was meant to run to next.  I moved swiftly, faster than any of the stormcloaks and opened the door.

"COME ON, I yelled out as a stream of them came rushing through."  Once the dragonborn followed, I slammed the door behind me in a fluster.

At this point, I chose to stay behind the dragonborn, preparing to run up the stairs.  Somehow, I braved the jump from the tower to the second story of the building next to it.  Somehow, I managed to follow the Dragonborn through the chaos of the storm.  Somehow I stayed close and didn't delay as we followed Hadvar, nearly freezing when witnessing Alduin's right wing nearly skewer me.

Even though I knew what was coming, it didn't change how terrifying the experience was.  When it came to the final decision the Dragonborn had to make, he looked conflicted as I often was between running after Hadvar and the Imperials and Ralof with the Stormcloaks.  In a situation where we only had one shot though, I figured we should go with the side that was probably the least likely to execute us in future.  Also their door was closer.

"Stormcloaks are probably our best bet to avoid execution.", I yelled at him.  The dragonborn nodded silently and we ran to Ralof, leaving Hadvar, probably to die, we'll never truly know.

"Let me get those bindings off you both.  And you..."  He says as he unties me.  "You kept the door open for us when the dragon attacked.  You're okay, but no offense, you don't look like much of a fighter.  Until you have a weapon, stay behind us."  I look towards the dragonborn, who was already changing into the stormcloak curaiss he'd taken from the dead soldier in front of him.  He grunts with a nod in my direction and I nod in return.

"Okay, I'll stay out of the way."  I didn't like the sound of my new voice.  Lokir was what the Nords would have referred to as a cowardly milk drinker.  Why did I have to reincarnate in him?  Why not the dragonborn?  I thought back to my previous life... I suppose I hadnt really done anything to warrant being reborn as a hero...  Yeah, that was probably it.  Maybe I drank too much Mountain Dew in my previous life.  Yeah, that's fair.

I hide off to the side as I hear imperial soldiers come around the corner.  One of them is of course the captain from earlier.  Ralof and the Dragonborn make short work of them and I move up quickly.  The Dragonborn pauses a moment before handing one of their swords over.

"We'll see what we can find further along"  Ralof replies.  "Come on, let's get out of here before the dragon brings the whole tower down on our heads."

As we proceed further along, I stick behind the others and stand back when they enter into combat, a couple of times picking up and throwing things at the enemy, which maybe helped our team out a little?  I don't know.  What I didn't expect, was the horrors of the dead bodies.  I'd been doing my best to ignore them up until now, but I knew soon that we would be approaching the torture room, where several people would be killed there.

I tried to psych myself up, not for the battle, but the possibility of loot.  I knew there was a dead man in a cell dressed in wizards robes and a tome for learning the 'sparks' spell.  Though this was normally reserved for the Dragonborn, I thought it could be my ticket to being useful.

I was also unsure if I had any Magicka, being from a non-magical world, or if I had Lokir's original reserves.  If Lokir was like any basic npc, I'll have 50 health, stamina and magicka, assuming I'm level 1.  But if I have none at all, then the mages hood will give me enough to at least be able to cast a little something, that is if I can simply glance at the tome to instantly learn it.  Otherwise, this was going to take some time.

My plan was simple.  As we rushed down the stairs, I follow behind the others.  Everyone is distracted by battle and I keep my distance with my sword drawn, but see my chance and am able to slip over and pick up a bag sitting on a table in the middle of the room.  Shouldering it, I keep my sword raised and watch for any sudden attacks, watching as one of the stormcloaks rams his sword through the chest of the torturer, ending the battle.  I wince at the sight of this, turning away to the cell in front of me, taking the bag off my back and moving towards the locked door.

At this point, I feel a little guilty for doing this, but I knew how important it would be to get a head start with any magical equipment I could get my hands on.  There was no way in hell I would know what to do with a sword any time soon compared to any seasoned warrior.

You see the bag contains lockpicks, which in the game, were pretty much placed there for the Dragonborn to use on this cell.  I guess I figured if I grabbed the bag first and mention an excuse to Ralof about helping with the fighting, I could claim the gear for myself and the Dragonborn would be none the wiser.  I glance sheepishly out to the side and am relieved to see the Dragonborn doesn't appear interested in what i'm doing, instead he has picked up an old iron shield in the other corner of the room and is testing it for comfort.

I nod in reply, hands shaking a little.  "Give me a minute, this sort of thing is tricky... I think."

I begin attempting to pick the lock.  I know from youtube videos and from Oblivion, Skyrim's predecessor that the Skyrim lockpicking minigame is nothing like how lockpicking really works.  Oblivion on the other hand was surprisingly close.  Depending on their complexity, locks will have a number of spring loaded teeth pushing down towards the chamber that houses the key.  In Oblivion, the simplest locks would have no more than one of these teeth descended and with any luck, this lock would be the same.

All I had to do was use the tension bar I found with the picks to gently apply the pressure of a turning key and gently tap the tooth up to be able to turn the lock.  The most difficult part of this not surprisingly, was in having to co-ordinate different pressures and movements to both hands at once.  Unfortunately I broke the first pick, but on the second, I was actually successful.  Maybe it was luck, or maybe it was something to do with Lokir's thief backgorund, I couldn't be sure.

I reached in, picking up the tome first because I needed to know whether it would do as I needed.  For a moment, nothing happened, then suddenly I could feel the symbols within it burning into my mind as its pages magically flipped in front of me.  Just as it finished and I expected it to drop to the ground, it disintegrated.

I could feel it now, the way to use the spell was instinctive.  I quickly took the hood and robes from the body of the mage, gagging a little when I started to smell the stink of their dead corpse.  But I pushed through and within a couple of minutes, I was dressed.  I was just thankful this dungeon was so cold, it really must have helped to keep the corpse fresh for however long.

I smiled as I emerged from the cell, bringing forth the idea of casting the 

sparks spell and raised my hands in order to ready it.

I could see electicity softly buzzing through my hand.  This was doable.  I can do this!