Tirdas, 17th of Last Seed, 4E201

Dear Diary,

I have nowhere else to turn but to empty pages in the books I pick up in caves and bandit dens. My story shall live only in them for now, but where to start, I am not sure. I scarcely know who or what I am. I must, then, start with my first memory.

Do not worry, Diary, it is not of some babe, screaming into the sky on its day of birth. No, it is of some young and confused woman, waking up, bound and dazed in a prisoner cart to Helgen. While I have no memory of the event, a fellow prisoner named Ralof told me I had been ambushed on my way to cross the border by the Imperials. He implied that I was entering the land of Skyrim, so I have little clue as to where I am from, whether I am running or simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Shaken as I was, I looked around, noting two other men in the cart with me. One Ralof referred to as the thief; another was gagged and called Ulfric, leader of the Stormcloak rebellion. I knew nothing of this rebellion, nothing of Ulfric's enemy, General Tullius, but I did know that if I was to be killed by Tullius for little other than my own fault of existing in a place where he would have me not, I would likewise make him my enemy.

The theif had little pride, shaking in fear as our death approached. Ralof was proud to die an honorable, Nordic death, and I was at least resigned to it.

Strangely, as we stepped off the cart and names were called off the list, read by some woman soldier, mine was not. A long process ensued as they asked me numerous questions ranging from my race to my complexion; they even asked for information on scars and if I wore certain face paint before asking for my name. Ralof had made a comment about the Imperial obsession with lists, so I can only assume this extremely detailed documentation is for their records. I did not know what name to give, as my memory was still lost, but the name Sif came from my lips, and thus I am forever now Sif.

As we were led to have our lasts rites read, the thief attempted to run. Of course, he was shot down by archers. His death was suitable. He was a coward.

I listened to my last rites, full of the outcries of the crowd and commentary from Ralof. I watched one man as he was beheaded, realizing I was the only female prisoner. We also all appeared to be Nords. I could almost laugh as I was led next to the block, about to die without knowing anything but speech and common knowledge. Then, something happened that changed the course of my fate. As I laid my head on the bloody block, face only a reach away from the head of the previously fallen, a dragon landed.

Even I knew this appearance signaled trouble. As the dragon roared and blasted fire, the scene erupted into chaos. Prisoners took their chance to flee, guards not worried about the prisoners but were preoccupied with protecting dear Helgen from the vicious attack. I was beckoned by two men going in different directions. I recognized Ralof as one of them, and I followed him immediately.

We ran into a nearby tower as the city began to burn. Had my hands not been bound, I would have stopped to help the child I saw. Luckily, guards came to his aid, so I continued my retreat. Inside, we found a dead Nord Ralof called Gunjer. Ralof told me to take his gear, and I did. To my surprise, I donned it quickly and felt familiarity as I picked up his fallen war axe. Before I had the chance to speak, Imperial soldiers came into the room. Without thinking, I helped Ralof kill them, took their better gear, and followed Ralof out of the room. He led us to an underground pathway. I barely remember it well, still suffering the surprise at my ease of killing another person. I remember killing some frost spiders, sneaking around a bear, and all of it being ridiculously easy, as if this was some sort of tutorial reminding me of my previous life as a warrior. There was little other explanation.

Regardless, we both exited the pathway, alive. Part of me wishes I could saw we parted ways and both lived happy, relatively uneventful lives, but that did not happen, and the stronger part of me is glad. Ralof said his sister, Gerder, would help us in Riverwood, just up the road. As I had nowhere else to go, I agreed to go with him. He had much to say, though little I heard. He mentioned a Bleakfalls Barrow up a nearby mountain which overlooked Riverwood. He seemed to find the place sinister, but I cared little for it.

We came across Guardian Stones, and he told me to go touch one. I first picked the Mage Stone, but it felt quite unnatural and went with the Warrior Stone instead. This felt exhilarating, and I was satisfied with the choice. We killed a couple wolves outside of town and then entered Riverwood.

It is a small town, mostly residential. I followed Ralof to the mill where Gerder worked. We briefly met her husband, Hod, and son, Frodnar, before an intense discussion occurred. I followed little, still confused over the whole Imperial verse Stormcloak issue, but I quickly caught on to the fact that dragons have not been around in a very long time. Of course, I would be in the middle of the issue as I had survived the attack. Of course, Gerder would ask me to run an errand for her. Of course, I would accept the quest. At least it would give me something to do as I try to discover my past. Go tell the jarl in Whiterun that there is the distinct possibility of a dragon attack. Imminent is probably the better word. Regardless, I took her quest. She gave me food and other items to help me on my way before we parted.

I first found the trader to buy more provisions. Upon entering the building, I overheard an argument between Lucan Valerius, the owner, and his sister, Camilla. They had been robbed of an heirloom, a solid gold dragon claw. She wished to retrieve it. He wished she would stay at home. Another mission already? I immediately offered them my assistance. They told me that the thief had gone to Bleakfalls Barrow. Ironically, it was the very barrow that Ralof had found so sinister. I decided to go in the morning as it was getting late. Camilla was, however, prepared to lead me there right away. As we left the shop, she went straight to the gate as if I would follow her.

I went to see the blacksmith, Alvor, and bought better gear instead. He taught me to make a dagger, although the process was not as hard as I expected. He had more for me to do, but as it had grown even later, I retired to the Sleeping Giant Inn.

This town is full of bickering duos! As I entered, the owner, Orgnar, and his wife, Delphine, were arguing about spoilt wine. It was awkward to interrupt their conversation and request a room. I get the feeling Delphine knows all the rumors in this small town, and I do not doubt that she could give me useful tips for new work if mine ever ends.

Diary, but the end of the day, I was glad to sit and eat some bread and cheese. I immediately began to write using utensils from the inn and a book I had found in that tunnel. It all seems so long ago to have been only hours before! Ah, well, sleep I must for tomorrow is sure to be another eventful day.