I had always seen the life in front of me through a small lens, blinding me from what reality bestowed in front of my own eyes. I used to be careless of my actions, not thinking twice about how it would affect me or the people around me. Childhood was definitely the worst time of my life, seeing women turned into concubines and common people being slaughtered in the streets. Eventually, the lifestyle of robbing people blind became my profession for years. Nothing was safe from my hands, not food, jewelry, nor gold. Especially gold. My own family shunned me for what I was, leaving to my own when the time came. During my time, I got involved in a group thieves who trained me and treated me as one of their own, a feeling I didn't have for what seemed like eons. My greed took over, however, leaving me torn for betraying my fellow kinsman. I was left with nothing else, so I fled and never looked back. That is how my story started.

I sought a new life away from my home, Hammerfell, in what I had thought to be the most prosperous land in all of Tamriel, Skyrim. There was no way of knowing where I would be led to, but I did not care. One dull night, I stole a horse from a nearby barn and fled north into what I believed was Riften. I also pilfered much needed gold coin from some poor traders I encountered along the way; housing is not always cheap in Skyrim. I traveled around the countryside for some time before I came across an Imperial camp lodged near the mountains. It was at that time that I spared no time in picking out their goods when they were all asleep. I sifted through each and every chest, still not so worried about any noise I was making. I got lucky and found a small bag of assorted flawless jewels, probably in the same interest as my own of selling them. Unfortunately, one of the soldiers heard my excitement and called to his allies for my immediate arrest, and if necessary, execution. They chased me down for a good while, but even with being forced to leave my steed behind, I evaded them.

Of course, I found that I was also lost in an area of the mountains that was foreign to my knowledge. After what felt like an entire day of doing nothing but trudging through the snow, exhaustion washed over me like rainfall. During my hazy search for refuge, I was greeted with what looked like an abandoned watch tower. As I entered, my eyes were treated with the sight of dust and ashes at a nearby wall. I could not read any of its writings, the reason being that it was in Dovah, a language that I had only heard of in myths and legends told to me as a child. I was not able to ponder for long, and there stood the same soldiers who finally caught up to me. They carried me out in a carriage along with a few Stormcloak soldiers, Nords who I personally thought were fighting a hopeless cause. It was around that first night in custody that they would overlook my crime of stealing goods if I handed over all that I took. I did hand them over, with some reluctance; they said I would not be able to leave as there was the greater charge of crossing into Skyrim, or more importantly Imperial territory, illegally. A crime of that degree was punishable by death and that is what I was left to swallow.

Then the time finally came to be executed at Helgen, my supposed final resting place. I was comforted by the rebels in the hopes that I would find myself in Sovngarde. With my head at the chopping block, I looked to the sky and held my breath. I awaited death's call, but I couldn't muster up the strength to answer back. It was then that I saw him. Not death, but something much worse. Alduin, the World Eater.

Ironic, that I have the harbinger of all that is evil and chaotic in this plane to thank for allowing my life to continue. No, not continue, but to truly begin anew. This was my second chance and I took it with gratitude.

My adventures then ensued and might I say that I think may have set the bar high for the next Dragonborn. From becoming the Thane of the many holds to stopping the apocalypse, twice I might add, it all seemed clear what I was meant to be: a hero. "All hail the conquering hero," I would hear people say, "Praise be to the Dragonborn!" they would chant. Other would accompany me on my journey, yet while some were only present for the pay, they all stayed for the ties that brought us together in the first place.

It was with the Companions and the Blades that I found my calling as a warrior, none like any other. Aela and Farkas especially were two of the fiercest Nords I had ever seen, and that was before I found they were werewolves! If bloodlust and honor were to ever have twins, those two most certainly fit the roles perfectly. Lydia is definitely a contender for a role like that as well, given I have her to thank for aiding me in defeating Alduin and the rest of his snow-back army. I let her return home to Whiterun when I believed she had enough adventuring for one lifetime and frankly, she agreed, albeit with some hidden cravings for more. J'zargo, the arrogant Khajiit mage, and I were the best of friends and the greatest of rivals during my time at the College of WInterhold. He hoped to outmatch me in trials that very nearly pushed over the edge, and had it not been for him looking out for me while I did the same for him, we might not be so close as we are today. Marcurio was always a mysterious character, one with whom that I could not always count on in a life or death situation. He was very intelligent, despite his many downfalls when it came to the mastering the arcane arts. I spoke with him on a daily basis about his aspiration in becoming an archmage and I did what I could to help him pursue his goal; in the end, Marcurio was appreciative of my efforts and constantly asked how he might repay me. That is, until he had to leave in order to complete his quest elsewhere in the land. To this day, I hold no grudges or spite towards his idealism. It was during that time Mjoll stepped in when I helped her retrieve a lost weapon that she was held near and dear to her; during my first days in Riften, I had her to count on for cleaning up the crime that had plagued the city, especially when it came to halting the movement of the Thieves Guild, a great time of hardship that I had to come to terms with. Ending what created you and molded into what you were is never easy for anyone it seems, but I digress. Then came along Ghorbash, the Iron Hand and did he ever live up to the name. Nothing else really needs to be said about him other than he is one lean, mean son of a bitch.

Then, came the Dawnguard. A hardened brotherhood of vampire slayers was not something I could easily turn down; it was as if I created even more opportunities of great peril for myself. Isran, the leader of the Dawnguard, was someone I considered to be one of my greatest teachers, although being the harshest one as well. It was on my first quest after joining that came across Serana, the daughter of a crazed vampire lord who goes by the name of Harkon. She made it very clear she had no plans of being an instrument to help bring about the end of times, so she joined me in the struggle against her father. After numerous assassination attempts by his minions, a wild goose chase involving the Elder Scrolls, creating a crossbow that could slay even the mightiest beast, and we finally cornered Harkon on his own home turf. I do not normally relish in killing others, I found that his death brought me great satisfaction, possibly due to how long it took us to end his tyranny. This period with the Dawnguard lasted for several months and while I grew uneasy about being able to stop the vampire lord, Serana helped me grow as a person, and in return, I did the same. She shed the fangs and cured herself of the vampirism the accosted her for so long. I grew closer to her and something began to bud between us like the red mountain flowers out in the fields.

I stayed with them for a little longer until I adopted my daughter, Lucia, and secured a house for myself in Markarth, thanks to the my position as Thane. She had been roaming all of Whiterun for gold coins until she crossed my path and told me what happened to her mother. It was like looking in a pale reflection of myself and it was then that I knew I couldn't leave her in that city to beg for the rest of her days. When I told her I successfully adopted her, she squealed with joy and hugged ever so tightly. I introduced to some my many friends and they grew to adore her, even Ghorbash had a soft spot for her.

Of course, the time came for me to realize that my days of adventuring in the country were coming to end and I was rather looking forward to it. I had restored peace in the land, despite the civil war that rages on, so I felt that the world needed the Dragonborn no longer. A few companions traveled with me to Fort Dawnguard for the last goodbyes. I asked Serana if she would to stay with us and live happily as a family. While she acknowledged my offer with gratitude, she refused. She did agree that it was my to settle down, given all that I've done in the time spent, but she felt it necessary to stay with Dawnguard in the hopes of further protecting the land from more than just vampires now. I felt no obligation to dissuade her of her choice and respected her decision to stay. In the future, I felt that I would still hold my regards to her.

After returning to Markarth, six more months passed and I relished in my new homestead. Drinking in taverns, working as a lumberjack at the mill, and still running into thugs with bounties on me really spells this out as a new, comfortable life. I've finally found my place in Skyrim, the place that I now call my home.