Lost Snow
In the land full of snow and rising peaks has a man wasting his day's coin on mead and sulking by himself. This man's name is Deseanus Wolfang and he is 22 years of age. He is a tall thick muscled Nord with slightly long light brown hair and hard brown eyes. He is a Stormcloak soldier fighting to liberate Skyrim from the Empire he thought corrupt and weak. He just recently got out of skirmish at Lake Yorgrim near Windhelm. The skirmish killed many of his shield brothers and sisters and his hatred for the Empire grew ever so more. He walked weakened and bloodied but very much alive back to Windhelm to report there success in repelling the Imperials from entering Eastmarch.
"Would you like another drink sir" the young bartender asked. Deseanus looked up from his mug and shook his head. " No, I think I've had enough" as he glanced at a small line of drinks he had. " Okay sir, have a nice night" she replied politely. Deseanus nodded and dropped a small bag of coins on the bar table. He stumbled a little out the door. He looked up at the stars and the soft blues and green waves of light. " Such beauty in this land of war and death" he muttered. Then he walked over to the chapel of Talos and let himself in and sat on a bench closest to the statue of the man himself. As much as I hate this fighting, I'll never stop fighting until I can freely worship my god in peace and get these damn faithless dogs out of our land. He quietly prayed for this conflict to end and have peace like the days of old.