19th of Last Seed, 4E 201-
This land is a lot more violent then I remembered. True, I was nine when father finally graduated and we relocated to Cyrodil, but there's NO WAY I could have missed this much bloodshed!
I made fairly decent time to Falkreath, made it there by around an hour into the afternoon. Which in retrospect is kind of impressive, as I has to ward off something like three bandit attacks and two wolf attacks along the way. On the up-side though, I'm getting much better at stabbing magically burning things!
... That's an upside. This country's fricking bloodthirsty, I tell you!
So I asked around looking for some honey, and lo and behold the only people who ever collect it are the hunters that live in the woods! So I went out to find one, but instead I ran into this wierd tree-person THING that, like every other strange thing I encountered today, immediately tried to kill me. They're called Spriggans, apparently.
But, I can always make my own beekeeping setup after I get hold of my land, right? So after dashing back to town and removing all the stingers and splinters from by face and ass, I went to see the Jarl. Who looks MAYBE three years older than me and was this super-snobby twat. I asked him about the piece of land on the hill, and he told me I had to "prove myself" by trekking all the way to frigging RIFTEN to grab some black-briar mead. I'd normally just grab some from the local tavern and spice it back to peak freshness, but this sickly sweet, "Honningbrew Mead" garbage was all they carried!
To make matters worse, Falkreath doesn't even have a proper carriage driver! I had to go all the way back to Whiterun to grab one, but I got... kind of incredibly lost. It started getting late, and I've got everything trying to kill me in the DAYTIME! I wasn't about to go roughing it! So... I went up to this fort. It looked old, but I had seen people moving about in it. Unfortunately, "people" turned out to be bandits. Cripes, the Dragons's got the army so out of whack that they were losing bases to frigging bandits!
I must've racked up, like, at LEAST ten counts of lethal self-defense with mage-fire and cutlery. And I gotta admit... whether through adaptation or over-exposure, I'm surprisingly okay with that. I mean, I think it can be objectively said that the bandits here are pretty much wild animals, and all the wild animals here want me, and everyone else, dead. I'm fairly certain I did the world a service really. OH! And I managed to lift a butt-ton of money along with a firebolt tome and an oakflesh tome off of one of the mage bandits.
Which reminds me, since when have Bandits had mages?
Strange times we live in. At least the Bandit Chief had good taste in soft, warm furs for his bed.
-Garcon LeManifique.