Prologue
Vald Rootarm was a skinny man, with blonde hair, he was a Nord. He was not a particularly strong one; he wore fur armor and had an iron sword. He was on his way to Whiterun from Solitude; he was crossing a bridge over a gushing waterfall when he spotted a body lying on the ground. He gasped and rushed over, he was about half way there when he noticed something was wrong. The body had pale grey skin and seemed to be shorter than normal people; he stopped about three meters short. He heard a growling noise behind him, drawing his sword he turned. Vald saw a pale grey skinned creature, it was stunted and bent over, it had pinkish skin covering where its eyes were, this thing was a Falmer! Vald had heard stories of them but had never believed in them, it carried a small Falmer Sword. The thing seemed to smile as it sniffed the air, then ran at Vald, he screamed and brought his sword up and caught the Falmer full in the face, piercing its 'eye'. The Falmer screeched and fell back, dead. Vald smiled, that had been easy enough, no blood – well Nord blood anyway – he sighed, this might be the start of an adventure, he almost laughed at the idea, he dreamt of himself wearing steel armor and holding a-.
A pain in his chest interrupted his thoughts; he looked down and saw a Falmer sword sticking out of his chest. He opened his mouth to scream but only managed a whimper. Whoever attacked Vald pushed him off their blade. When Vald fell, he saw a Falmer dressed in banded iron armor, HEY! That was the dead body he saw on the ground, he thought as the last of his life left his body.
My main character is an Orc Dragonborn who goes by the name of Grendel Bloodspiller, who wears dragonbone armor, he usually uses a Blades sword, and is in the Companions circle (he is a werewolf) he is in the dark brotherhood and lives in the Falkreath hold, living in Lake view manor he built himself.
Grendel Bloodspiller leapt off the ridge in the cave and kicked the cave Troll in the face, and then as it fell back he simply said, well shouted "YOL TOOR SHUL!" The cave Troll was thrown backwards off its feet, on fire. Grendel jumped on its chest and plunged his Blades sword where the heart should have been, it flailed and thrashed madly, knocking the sword out of the wound, the curved blade with its black and gold hilt flew to the back of the cave into a pile of bones. The Trolls wound opened, blood started to gush out over his arms and up his body then traveled up into his mouth and down his throat. He leapt off the Trolls chest into the pile of bones; he watched the Troll thrash on the floor then lay still. The blood in his mouth tasted like bad Black-Briar Mead, he spat out blood back on the Troll, he turned and stooped to pick up the sword. He retrieved it then heard growling behind him, he cursed then turned and fought the third troll today . . .
Back at the Jorrvaskr mead hall Grendel hungrily wolfed down venison stew with cooked beef and Honningbrew mead, while he washed his dragonbone armor of the troll blood. Once he had finished washing the armor he handed it to a maid who would take it away to be dried. He was uncomfortable in the leather armor he was wearing, but it was better than being covered in troll blood. He then heard Aela the Huntress come into the hall, she then spoke up, "There has been reports of people going missing around a bridge south of here, I thought you and Vilkas could go and scourer the scene."
"Aela" Grendel started to stay, but they was no point, she was the most stubborn of the Companions, and that was a feat in its self. Grendel stood and started towards the door when Aela said "Vilkas is waiting outside the walls of the city, he'll meet you there. Luck to you Grendel." She finished but Grendel was already gone, heading to what could have been his end . . .