I stepped out of the musty chamber and into the sunlight of Cyrodill. I was just happy to be out of that dammed sewer. I have no idea why I wound up in that stupid cell in the first place, having to listen to that Dark Elf taunt me from the other cell. At least I didn't steal or murder anyone to have gotten place there.
I've lived in the cold of Skyrim my whole life, and I finally left. There was nothing for me in Skyrim. I was brave, I was a fighter, and I never thought my skills would do me justice in Skyrim so I left.
I was going around discovering all of the cities of Cyrodill when some kind of light knocked me out cold, and I woke up in the cell. Luckily I was only there for a few days, until the Emperor showed up and told me I was apart of some Godly plan. I hoped to help escort the Emperor out and be crowned free of the cell, but we were attacked by men with conjured armor and blood-red robes.
The guards took the Emperor on a separate route and after fumbling in the dark, I lodged a rock loose and discovered a cave. I eventually caught up again with the Emperor and his Guards, only then we were hit by an attack, The Blades (The Organization that protected the Emperor) ran ahead to fend them off and I was left to protect the Emperor. I just wish they had given me some of their armor or weapons, I had to resort to some rusty and tattered armor and weapons I had found in the caves and tunnels.
Then the Emperor gave me a shard of The Amulet of Kings, and told me that three other people received the shard and that I need to find them because the Gods have a greater plan that involves the four of us. He then told me to deliver the shard to Jaufree, and as if frozen in shock I couldn't move, and watched as the assassins cloaked in red killed him. So much for being a hero. The Blades member ran in and found him dead, me kneeling next to his body in horror, I had slain his murderers already. The Blades told me how to escape the Prison tunnels and here I am.
I take a quick breath, the air is warm and summery, nothing like the harsh chill of Skyrim.
I'm free. I looked above the sewer exit and saw the Imperial City. I had grabbed some extra gear just so I could sell it and find something to do with my time. I stumbled around the Market District and found a store called The Best Defense, that sounded good. After selling the armor, weapons, and jewels I'd found in the tunnels I started asking around. I wanted to know if anyone needed help with something, or if anyone could offer me work.
Passing by a heavily armored orc and a normal Imperial, I heard someone mention something about a Fighters Guild. That caught my attention,
"Sorry, but did you say Fighter's Guild?" I asked the orc.
"Yeah, word has it that they're recruiting new members. Talk to Azzan in Anvil, Burz-gro Kash in Cheydinhal, or Velena Donton in Chorrol if you're interested." The orc said impatiently. Typical Orc. I turned away and pulled out my map, Anvil seemed like a good place to start.
In Skyrim they had this stuck-up group called The Companions. I thought about joining, I lived in Markarth and the Companions were headquartered in Whiterun, but if the jobs were fun enough and everyone was levelheaded I would join. Of course, I was only 19 when I made the trip to Whiterun to join, but those warriors thought they were Gods among mortals, when I asked if I could join, the simply looked down at me and laughed, calling me 'whelp.' I sneered and drew my blade, steel, nothing special. They started rolling in laughter.
"Please, you're not that special. You're little hall is nothing grand, and it reeks of dog smell," I scoffed. Angry I made the trip back to Markarth. The Companions were mostly the reason I left Skyrim, plus the winters. I've never been to Hammerfell, even though I'm a Redguard. Even so, I feel like my body would adapt better to sand and blistering heat, the a frigid cold and blizzards. But Hammerfell wasn't the place for me, So I decided on a happy middle and came to Cyrodill.
The road to Anvil was quiet enough. Opening up the main gate, the Imperial Guard cloaked in yellow looked at me in shock. I rolled my eyes.
A few things about me that always pissed me off:
1, I look about 5 years younger than I really am. People always assume I'm so young because the wrinkles that should crease my face aren't noticeable due to my smooth skin and fragile looks.
2, Since I bear no battle scars on my face and I don't look worn or weathered, men always assume I'm some wife, taking care of kids and cooking dinner.
3, Even though I have dark skin, all my years of living in Skyrim turned it to a more caramel color, and since I have icy blue eyes, so I'm often assumed to be an Imperial.
4, People gawk at me if I'm wearing armor- because I don't look right wearing it, according to my mother. People gawk at me if I'm wearing clothes- because I look like I'm royalty, according to my mother.
5, I hate my name because it scarcely resembles the name of a god.
6, I hate it when people call me pretty. Because they're drunk and then I feel ugly because they don't say it sober. I'm not one to be self conscious, but I would never call myself pretty, and I refuse to accept the "compliment" from anyone. Pretty people just aren't fighters.
I pushed my doubts aside and scanned the area for any indication of the Fighters Guild. I found red banners with two swords making and X, with a shield placed on top of them. Just to be sure I asked the guard, still staring incredulously at me.
"Where are the guilds?" I ask, with what I hope is a sneer on my face.
"The guilds are near the north wall, Fighters Guild west of the north gate, and Mages Guild to the east,"
I was about to say thanks, but stopped myself, If people are going to see me as tough instead of a little girl, then I need to stop being so nice. But I had no reason to be cold, because that wasn't me.
"Thanks sir," I said with a smile.
"Headed to the Fighter's Guild?" He asked. I was surprised he wasn't taunting me.
"Yes," I held my head up high. He nodded me off and I walked up to the doorstep of the guild.