drem yol lok my little joore. I am sorry for my absence, but I have returned very much alive.
Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zin los vahriin, wah dein vokul mahfaerak ahst vaal!
Arhk fin norok paal graan fod nust hon zindro zaan, Dovahkiin, fah him kogaan mu draal!
Huzrah nu, kul do od, wah aan bok lingrah vod, Aahrk fin tey, boziik fun do fin gein!
Wo lost fron wah ney dov, ahrk fin reylik do jul, voth aan sulyek wah ronit faal krein!
Arhk fin zul, rok drey kod, nau tol morokei frod, rul lot Taazokaan motaad voth kein!
Sahrot Thu'um, med aan tuz, vey zeim hokoron pah, ol fin Dovahkiin komeyt ok rein!
Ahrk fin Kel lost prodah, do ved viing ko fin krah, tol fod zemyah win kein meyz fundein!
Alduin, feyn do jun, kruziik vokun staadnau, voth aan bahlok wah diivon fin lein!
Nuz aan sul, fent alok, fod fin vul dovah nok, fen kos nahlot mahfaeraak ahrk ruz!
Paaz Keizaal fen kos stin nol bein Alduin jot, Dovahkiin kos fin savik do muz!
If someone is a hero do they only do "good" things? I was once a hero but then I was also a master thief, and leader of an infamous group of assassins...I never was attacked by a Vampire; I willingly became one, but it came with a terrible price. As I stayed the same in my two hundred years of un-life I watched those I loved most grow old and die. My Brother Vicente was the one who gave me the gift, and it was he who stood by me for most of those two hundred years. Fifty years ago he decided to stay in Skyrim while I wandered all across Tamriel. My visit to him is not going exactly as well as I had first planned.
"Hey you, you're finally awake. You walked into that ambush same as us. You we caught trying to cross the border right?" I slowly open my eyes and see a young blonde haired Nord. I remember nothing of this supposed ambush but then I remember nothing from before my time in the Imperial Prison so I suppose it's not too horribly surprising.
"You stupid rebels. Before you showed up Skyrim was just fine. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell by now!" Only an incompetent thief blames others for what he cannot do.
"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now horse-thief."
"You there, Khajiit. It's not us they want it's these rebels, we shouldn't be here." That is truer than he realizes, but only to a certain point. I should have died two hundred years ago, but here I have stayed. Hunting down any and every Thalmor or Imperial Legionare I can find. The Empire did with Martin. I stretch my neck slowly and look at the man sitting next to me. Great, just great. Put me next to the man who wants my head on a pike. Me and Ulfric had a...shall we say disagreement? It happened after he had learned the Voice, wich I suppose explains the gag he's wearing. You can practically smell the fury radiating from him. Soon we approach I settlement that I believe is called Helgen.
"Look at him General Tullius the Military Governor. The Thalmor are with him too. I bet they had something to do with this."
"Papa, papa what are the soldiers doing?"
"Back inside little one." A smile almost quirks my mouth as I remember my Night Mother, she used to call me her little kitten. She also called me small-one-with-no-sense-of-self-preservation. But that was long, long ago. Before I left the Brotherhood in the hands of my more capable Sister, Shaziira.
"Awww but papa I want to stay and watch the soldiers."
"Inside. Now." Soon we stop in about the middle of the settlement, the last carriage to arrive.
"Wait, why are we stopping?"
"Why do you think little mortal? It's the end of the line for us." Or rather for them. We jump down from the cart and the thief is in hysterics; going on and on about how the Stormcloaks need to tell them it was just a mistake that he was there. An...acquaintance of mine begins calling names.
"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm."
"It has been an honor my King." This last word turns into a snarl and he turns back to me briefly. If looks could kill I would be dead a thousand times over.
"Ralof of Riverwoood." The young blonde Nord who had awoken me walks to the others.
"Lokir of Rorikstead." I have seen many people face death, usually dealt by my own hand. His response is no different than that of many.
"No you can't do this! I'm not a rebel! You're not going to kill me!" Where exactly did he think he would be able to go? He is surrounded by Legionaries and his hands are bound. His death is a swift and painless one.
"Anyone else feel like running?"
"You there, step forwards. Who are you?" I move my head back enough to cause the hood of my cloak to fall and give a smile just wide enough to show razor sharp fangs that have ended many a persons life. The blood drains out of his face. "Sh-Shabhira? H-h-how? You're supposed to be...dead."
"Do I detect some disappointment child? You know if you kill someone you should really make sure they are actually dead." When I told Hadvar of who and what I was he flew into a fit of rage and landed a blow that would have killed any mortal.
"I know where I cut you, you're head was practically cut off."
"Almost, but not quite." His hands are shaking slightly as he checks his list.
"Captain, she's not on here."
"Kill her with the others."
"I would say I'm sorry but I'm not. Follow the Captain Prisoner and this time I'll make sure you're truly dead." I growl softly but follow the Captain to the outskirts of the rather large group of prisoners assembled. It must be quite a spectacle; a snow white Khajiit vampire with long black hair and blood red eyes among all of these Nords