Well.
My new life in Skyrim is off to a fantastic start.
All I wanted was to start a new life away from Summerset Isles! I had absolutely no intention of being taken prisoner with a bunch of smelly Nords.
I guess the Imperials thought I was part of Skyrim's little rebellion because five minutes past the border, I'm ambushed by a group of them screaming, "Death to the Stormcloaks!"
I tried to convince those blasted Imperials that I, in fact, wasn't a Stormcloak, but they wouldn't hear it. If I so much as opened my mouth, they would silence me with a "Shut it, elf."
I don't like being silenced.
No love came from the Stormcloaks, either. I heard one mutter, "Filthy Thalmor agent," as I boarded the cart. If my hands hadn't been bound, I would have punched him all the way to Oblivion. I'm no Thalmor, and I never will be.
But anyway. Thank Auri-El for spontaneous dragon attacks, especially if they interrupt a certain Altmer's decapitation. I followed an Imperial named Hadvor out of the hold while the guards fought the dragon off, hoping I could convince him to clear my name. He didn't try to chop my head off again, which was good enough for me.
Going through the keep, I found a new bow and some actual armour instead of ragged robes. The Imperial led me out of the keep and into a small village called Riverwood, where we met up with his aunt and uncle. I took all, er, most of the supplies from that the Imperial's aunt offered, and now his uncle is asking me to go to Whiterun and warn the Jarl about the dragon. I think I'll stick around for a bit, though, and see if I can find some good food. I'm awful hungry.
