17th of Last Seed, 4E 201-

This is quite possibly one of the worst days I've ever had. When I awoke, I realized that my little run-in with the Cyrodilian arm of the Thieves Guild was NOT some far-fetched dream. That was the first bad thing in a chain of bad things that happened to me today.

As in my previous entry, I planned on sneaking across the border back into my homeland, Skyrim. The Thieves Guid presence there had dwindled considerably, and I thought I could work my way to some semblance of normalcy. These things happen in an artist's life from time to time, you know how it goes. Anyways, I think I'm about to make it across the border when I get jumped by a man in Imperial armor! I damn near bolted then and there, but he tackled me to the ground and bound my hands. Burly bastard chucked me in a wagon along with two Stormcloaks and a horse thief, like I was some sort of common criminal!

... Which, I guess I WAS for trying to emigrate without filing the proper papers with Cyrodil customs, but SERIOUSLY?

Anyways, they start carting us off for what seemed like an eternity. And when we finally get to our destination (which turned out to be Helgen) guess what cheery scene awaited us: Guards, a priestess, and a chopping block...

"Hey, Garcon, welcome home Garcon, say, mind if we KILL YOU?"

They took down my name. The man writing the list seemed sorry for me. Maybe he could tell I wasn't guilty somehow? Anyways... I was second on the block. It.. It was... The man who'd gone before me: his head was still in the basket! I could smell the blood on the block! I... I threw up. So much for true Nords dying with dignity. But as the axeman raised his weapon, this big black spiky THING crashed down on top of the tower behind him! The shockwave sent him crashing to the ground, and for a moment I thought I was saved! But then...

It looked at me. It looked straight at me. It had fire in it's eyes, I swear to the nine! It... it was a dragon. It roared to the heavens, and the heavens roared back. They spat fire down upon the town, and I bolted for a nearby tower. I managed to get inside, just moments before the dragon tore a chunk out of the floor above us. I was able to jump into a building through a hole that had been burned through the roof. I used the building for cover, until I'd heard a voice:

"Still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way!"

It was the guard from earlier. The one that had taken down my name. Talos bless him, he was able to lead me through that burning wreckage and into the keep. I... I was shocked. There were bodies everywhere. As we went through the town, I mean. Men's bodies were were burning, crushed, bit clean in two. Nothing could stop that beast!

Anyways, once we were inside the guard untied my hands. He introduced himself, went by the name of Hadvar. Bless the lad. we went deeper into the keep, to fine the emergency exit deep below. Along the way, we rand into some of those Stormcloaks, and they ATTACKED US! A thrice damned DRAGON was burning the town down around us, and they attacked US! I lost it. I started screaming at them, and they turned and ran when they saw Dad's old flame spell prepared in my hands, but I... burned them. I burned them both. I burned them until they stopped moving. Until they stopped screaming. Hadvar looked like he was both startled and impressed, but I just left the room as soon as I could.

There were a few more Stormcloaks in the storeroom. We disposed of them. I was able to get my hands on some cast-iron pots, some wooden plates, a bit of silverware, a ladle, a kettle, and I even grabbed some ingredients too. So at least I'll still be able to ply my trade. There were some potions too, but... blegh. Those things are just nasty. I let Hadvar take them. We managed to get further through the keep, and I'm pretty certain that my mind smooshed all of it together into one big blur. There were frostbite spiders and a bear, I think.

Anyways, Hadvar guided me to his hometown, Riverwood. I was able to snag some of the Salmon jumping in a nearby river with a flames spell, and I smoked them for Hadvar's family after we arrived. It was a big hit with the family. Which is good, because I'm fairly certain I cleaned them out for ingredients after that. I forgot how easy it was to get fresh produce here in Skyrim. Makes since, there's farms everywhere up here!

I was exhausted. But, somehow it was only noon when we finished the fish. Hadvar's sent me out to Whiterun to get additional defenses for Riverwood. Makes sense, considering they don't even have a wall there. I ran down the road, made it to Whiterun without much incident. Except for that wolf that attacked me. I torched it's fur and slit it's throat with surprising ease. I... I should probably keep an eye on that.

I helped some nearby farms with the harvest. I kept some of the vegetables instead of getting paid in gold. I forgot how huge Skyrim potatoes are! Just recently, right at sun-down, I reached this tavern in the town. I didn't have a septim to my name, but I was able to earn a night's stay in the kitchen. Oh, and this little beggar girl who'd asked me for some money out on the street wandered in at some point. Gave her a bowl of vegetable stew. Poor thing.

Anyways, I'm barely keeping my eyes open now, writing this. I need a decent night's rest. Gods willing, in the morning I'll be able to find a way to buy a carriage ride to Solitude, where I can get some decent clothing. Maybe if I try my hand at hunting? nobody would mind if the pelts were a little singed, right?...

There I go with talking about killing things again... not the best of signs. Guess Mom wasn't ALL wrong... that's something, I guess?

I hear they have chef's uniforms at the clothing shop there. One can only hope. I'm still in my rags from when I tried to jump the border. Well, I had come here looking for a fresh start. Maybe this one's just a little TOO fresh.

OH! I almost forgot! Since my old journal is with all the other things the Imperials confiscated, this new, blank one I grabbed at the Riverwood Trader needs a formal introduction:

Greetings! My name is Garcon LeManifique. I'm a twenty-five year old aspiring chef. I am the son of a screaming harpy of a Nord she-soldier and a humble, Imperial mage. I take after my mother's side with my looks and temper, but I've always favored my father's cooking. I have returned to the place of my birth, Skyrim, in hopes of finally being able to settle down and start carving a niche for myself in the culinary world. And it looks like I'm going to have to carve out that niche with my bare hands. Since you're reading this, you're obviously the lucky bard or scribe I selected to write my song/biography after I finally made it big. Congratulations! I trust you'll read over these journals with the utmost care, and get the first manuscripts to me promptly. You've just finished the first pages of a success story surely greater than anything I can picture from this shabby inn bed, this cold night.

After all, destiny always finds those chosen for greatness!

-Garcon LeManifique.