-Foreword-
4E, 201 16th of Last Seed
My name is Rare, although that was not the name I was born with. If you have picked up this diary and begun reading it then it is undoubtedly true that you want to know who I am. If this is not true, it's likely you've already flung this book as far as possible... Since you've stuck with me thus far I will let you be privy to every private detail of my life – in due time of course. This diary might've been separated from my body after my demise, so I suppose it's my duty to tell you what I look like to give you an understanding of who I was
I suppose I was once a Breton if you care about that sort of thing. In terms of height, I stand fairly tall at a total height of nearly six feet. Altmer tower above me and Bosmer are puny beneath me. My body is very muscular, although I've never spent any great amount of time training my physical might. Why that is will become clear later. My skin is a dark olive tone that is unusual for Breton's and I've been asked in jest if my mother was a Redguard. She was not, although there would be nothing wrong if she were. My face is blocky and severe and my brow pushed upwards. I've been told I look continuously sad but "sad" looking or not, I enjoy my face. My hair is shaved close because I don't care to fuss or worry about the stuff that grows from my head. Where I'm from, I did not need it to keep me warm either. Some scruff grows about my chin and cheeks and I fuss with that more. I do not enjoy looking like a bald cave bear. My eyes are golden and piercing, but they weren't always this way and when I meet my own gaze I am scared by them. I miss when my eyes were brown but that was centuries ago. Indigo markings have formed over my left eye. Some would think the markings to be warpaint but they are not. Those markings were left by Sanguine.
I don't feel much like talking about my past anymore. For reasons you'll understand later, I have a great need to get out in the world and stretch my feet. Why? Because being immortal has made me blithering depressed.
Let this diary be a testament to my existence and if there is one person that reads this and gains any sense of wonder or entertainment then consider me blissful. My diary is a tale of rebirth for a soul that has been displaced in time.