To my dearest family,
I have gotten into some awful trouble, Mother, Father, Brothers.
As I was entering Skyrim, the great land of the Nords, I was arrested!
Arrested for being in an unfortunate circumstance that was beyond my own control.
You were right, Father, I should not have gone to Skyrim…
The Thalmor are putting immense pressure on the Empire to keep the Nords in check, and it appears that they have crossed the line on both sides.
I fear that I may not be able to return home soon…
As for my arrest, I was not aware of what charges were pressed against me, though I would assume that their reasoning was that I am of Khajiit blood, therefore I am there to cause mischief and other misdeeds.
For whatever reasoning they had, they were not in the mindset of fair and equal trial.
I am afraid to say, but I was to be executed!
Now now, Mother, Father, Brothers, shed not a tear, as I am (mostly) unharmed and well, as I am in no bad relation to the Empire anymore (for the moment, anyhow)!
I was captured as I was crossing the border from Cyrodiil, with everything (including my clothing!) confiscated from my person.
I was among men and women calling themselves the "Stormcloaks", if I hear them correctly.
I am afraid this lot has eluded me in the recent news and I am unsure of what to think of them.
Anyhow, I had been treated rather harshly as the Legion seemed to be agitated to an extended degree while conversing with these Stormcloaks.
From what I have hear the two parties saying, the Jarl of Windhelm has murdered Skyrim's High King!
I heard whispers of Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm (whom was sitting next to me in such a proximity that our legs touched!) using the power of The Voice to rip High King Torygg apart!
Being seated so close to a murderer made me more than a bit nervous, especially with the power that he possessed (though he had a gag placed in his mouth so that he could not Shout).
I was not the only one that was not of the resistance to be arrested this dreary day, for a petty horse thief was caught in the act of stealing one of the Legion's horses!
I know not if this man is mad, or if ignorance of the situation is what lead him to commit this crime, but what is certain is that he is praying to his Gods for salvation.
As his ramblings and swears got unbearable to the point that even the Stormcloak soldier in front of me grew anxious and weary.
Said his name was Ralof, if my memory serves me correctly.
He seemed like he was convinced that he was doing the right thing by rebelling against the Empire.
I have nothing to say on the matter, I am in enough trouble as it is so I will keep my head down for now.
I know, Mother, Father, Brothers that you are wondering about my execution, and frankly, as do I!
We were brought to a small town called Helgen, where the residents all cheered for the deaths of the rebels and praised the Legion for its noble deeds in seeking order and justice.
I am unsure if this is what I would consider justice, for the horse thief was to be executed for a crime that would otherwise be resolved by a fine and a stern slap on the wrist, and I was to be put to death for merely crossing the border at an inopportune time!
I was shocked and appalled at the manner in which these soldiers went about their duties.
Names were called, and the horse thief begged for his life.
He was killed by the sentries as he attempted to flee.
Scared and coming to the realization that I, too, was about to be executed, I walked up to a soldier, ashen and shaken by the event that had just unfolded.
He remarked that many Khajiit caravans often get into some definition of trouble, as more of a way to ease his own nerves than to seek offense, then asked me my name, to which I replied with my head held high, "This one is W'rah Xeirssius of Elsweyr." with my head held high.
The young Imperial frowned and turned to his captain and said "What should we do, Ma'am, she's not on the list."
"Take her to the block!" the captain shouted with little regard.
The Imperial soldier sighed heavily, looked at my feet, then said, "I'm sorry… I'll see that your remains are sent to Elsweyr…"
I felt a sensation that I have never felt before…
Fear, regret, sadness, anger, dread…
I don't remember much of what happened after the Imperial soldier talked to me.
One of the rebels were executed, I heard the faint cheer of spectators in the distance.
Then I heard the one thing that I was dreading…
"Bring the cat up next!"
I cannot begin to describe the raw fear and panic I felt as I was dragged up to the chopping block…
There was a noise in the clouds, a distant roar, something that shook me to the core.
"I said NEXT PRISONER!" the captain shouted.
Dearest family, I thought I was about to die..!
As the Imperial captain shoved me down and placed her foot on my back to keep me down, I saw….
I saw something that I thought was only legends and old stories told to entertain children!
Out of the clouds, a large dragon that was as black as night and as fierce and terrifying as in the stories of old!
I can hardly believe it as I write it on this parchment!
A dragon, of all things! Here at my execution!
This horrid beast looked down at us all, and, I will swear this to my grave, looked me in the eye as it Shouted and raised a storm of hellfire!
I know you think me mad now, but news of this fantastic beast will reach all over Tamriel and mark my words, this is just the beginning!
Now dear family, I am alright, no need to go out and rush to Skyrim.
In the confusion of the dragon attack, I fled the burning town with an Imperial Soldier, the very one that assured me that my body would be returned to the warm sands of Elsweyr.
His name is Hadvar, born and raised in Skyrim in a village near the now ravaged Helgen named Riverwood.
I am currently writing this letter in the home of Hadvar's Uncle, Aunt, and young Cousin.
I must say, it is an odd comfort to hear the child make such rapid, excited inquiries about what has happened to us.
She in a way reminds me of the twins in the way she cannot seem to hold her tongue or understand what personal space is.
Nevertheless, I must quickly finish this letter, for I need to speak with the Jarl of Whiterun so that this village can be protected from the dragon (if mortal men can defeat such a creature!) and the eventual bandits that will come for whatever is left at Helgen.
With that in mind, Mother, Father, Brothers, I say this:
I love you all from the bottom of my heart, I fear that I have gotten myself into quite the predicament!
I shall write in a speedy and regular manner so that you shall not fret over my well-being.
With the end of this letter, I beg you this, dear family:
Stay away from Skyrim and spread the word around Elsweyr (though I fear that news of this upcoming war will entice, not deter, the caravans from this dangerous province).
With the thought of warm sands and you in my mind my dear family,
Much love and worry, W'rah