Skyrim:A Thieves Tale

The sun rose over the hill. Riverwood couldn't look more beautiful. A few townspeople were going about their business. I decided to keep my distance. They don't like my kind. By my kind I mean a thief. My name is Dar'Ri, of course. I prefer not to tell anyone. I am of course Khajiit, and I am a thief. Of course, I prefer the term, borrower of gold.

My tale begins as I was walking back to the Ratway after a... Let us just call it a, trip to a rather wealthy manor. Nonetheless, I was walking and I felt a slight pain in my side. I took a look-see, and realised I had a rather sharp trinket stabbing me whilst I walked. So I took it, and put it in my back pocket. Though, maybe that was a bad idea considering I was in the middle of Riften. A towns-person took one look at me and called the guards at the top of her voice.

What happened after was rather sad actually. The guards hauled me to jail whilst I screamed, "Help, help! I'm not a thief! Just a very rich Khajiit! Really!" But that didn't stop them, apparently they trust wrinkly, foul smelling, senile old women, rather than a (very intelligent) Khajiit male in the prime of his life. So I was hauled off, and thrown in a cell like some dog, (I hate dogs) and now. I'm expected to just sit here and wait until Brynjolf came to my aid.

Turns out, strangely enough. Brynjolf never came. And I spend eight months in a rusty old cell, due to some wretched old hag. When I got out, I went to the Ratway. Brynjolf immediately stopped drinking from his golden goblet and asked me to sit down. "Hello Dar'Ri! How are you my friend?"

I gave him an angry look, "Fine, thanks for asking." He looked around frantically and said, "Why don't you take the week off hmm?"

"I think I will, thanks." I gave him a sarcastic smile and bit into a piece of bread.

More is on the way, if I can get five reviews I'll make some more.