Ralof

Ralof leans against a jagged stone pillar, the smoke from the ruined towers of Helgen still curling into the gray sky behind him. He wipes a smear of soot from his forehead with the back of his gauntlet and lets out a long, heavy sigh of relief. He turns his head as you approach, a small, weary smile breaking through his blonde beard.

Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there. He gestures toward the smoldering path leading away from the fortress. I don't know what brought a dragon to this gods-forsaken place, but the Divines clearly aren't done with us yet. We need to move before the Legion regroups or that winged shadow returns. My sister has a place in Riverwood where we can find a warm meal and a sharp blade. Are you coming, or do you fancy your chances alone in the wilds?