"Yoooo, man. I don't get any weed, but I gooot something better. LSD 2.0. It's new on the streets. Like, I haven't tried it yet. But I heard it'll give you the best trip of your life."

"Broo, this is why you're my bro. You'd even let me try this goood stuff."

"Hehe, of course. The bro code is always heeere."

Two men, sitting together on a comfy couch. They both had red eyes, and looked relaxed, sinking down into the deepest recesses. The second man reached into his pocket and pulled out two small, paper-like sheet, handing one to the other man.

The first man smelled it. It didn't have any scent. It just seemed like a sheet of paper.

"Do you liike burn this like weed? Or what?"

"Nah man, it's simple. Juust put it somewhere on your tongue and let it dissolve man. It's faster than normal LSD."

The first man trusted his friend and put the small sheet onto his tongue. He could feel the edges slowly disappearing. The wall he was staring at slowly turned into a rainbow of colors, mixing together and shifting. When the paper fully dissolved, his vision turned completely black.

Before long, his vision returned. He heard a voice, "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."

The man looked up and saw that he was sitting in an Imperial wagon driving four prisoners down a snowy mountain pass. All are seated and bound, and one dressed in finery is gagged.

Another man in the wagon responded to the first voice, "Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been half way to Hammerfell. You there. You and me – we should be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

The first voice replied, "We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief."

An imperial soldier driving the wagon shouted without looking back, "Shut up back there!"

The thief from earlier looked over at the gagged man, "And what's wrong with him?"

The one labelled as a Stormcloak rebuked his statement, "Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King."

The thief immediately had an anxious expression on his face, "Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they captured you... Oh gods, where are they taking us?"

"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits."

"No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening."

"Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?"

"Why do you care?"

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."

"Rorikstead. I'm...I'm from Rorikstead."

As the wagon slowly approached a village, their small conversation continued.