Ralof: 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.

Lokir: 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.

Ralof: We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.

Imperial Soldier: Shut up back there!

Lokir: And what’s wrong with him?

Ralof: Watch your tongue! You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King.

Lokir: Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You’re the leader of the rebellion. But if they captured you… Oh gods, where are they taking us?

Ralof: I don’t know where we’re going, but Sovngarde awaits.

Lokir: No, this can’t be happening. This isn’t happening.

Ralof: Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?

Lokir: Why do you care?

Ralof: A Nord’s last thoughts should be of home.

Lokir: Rorikstead. I’m…I’m from Rorikstead...