"What is it? Who? Huh. Guh." I was scrambling to slurp whatever drops left at the end of this rusty flagon. The way the last drop hit my throat was somewhat warm and filled with disappointment. Just one more thing that on life that is unpredictable ain't it? Nothing ever works out the way we had hoped and even this piss water they call mead is mocking me, the flagon is as empty as the end of my pocket too. Ah curse this Nalpa (Wretched, foul) and cruel world. And now I can't get a moment to myself even, I wave around my hands aimlessly to try to get a glimpse of the blurry figure in front of me, it's hard to see much with everything in pairs and triple, see?

"Hello friend, you don't look so good." The dark figure tried to put a hand on my shoulder try to orient me. Ah yes, I was spinning a bit, and it did help.

"I shake my head of disbelief, You talk to I? You are to the talking the poor, the defeated and lost Wuleen-Zish Pehrdes?" My words are hardly coherent and my mind is quite out of focus.

"You seem to be drinking alone and quite some much of it, troubles?" The dark figure seemed quite large, but maybe just blurry? I can't quite see well.

"Ah I straighten my back and now speak, Beeko (friend), you wonder about Wuleen-Zish Pehrdes, how kind, how thoughtful, and let the poor Wuleen-zish tell ya about the sad old tale of his." I sobbed a little while trying to reach for this stranger's cloth to wipe my tears but he swiftly dodges that.

"Where do I begin, where do I begin? I have a lot of thoughts and memories to weave through... Agh, let's start at the very beginning, Wuleen-Zish was born in the marsh you see, came to the world alone under a lotus leave in the darks of the swamps and grew up with the Deek-beekos - other egg brothers and sisters. Wuleen didn't want to fight, Wuleen is not a fighter, Wuleen is a lover you see, a lover, a poet and a bard. I wanted to sing, to bring the world joy and maybe get my tail wet from time to time. What the stranger doesn't approve, no matter, many have laughed at the poor Wuleen like he is a joke, until the Chukka-sei - when I became of age, I found my purpose and the path to my calling.

Wuleen heard that the best Bard's college in all of the world was in Skyrim, so Wuleen chopped wood, mined the rocks and finally made enough coin to pay for a carriage ride. You see, Poor Wuleen had laboured, and his beautiful scaley hands got callous all over. I labored but I sung because Wuleen had always wanted to become a bard.

Wuleen had always wanted to become the best bard in the whole world, then I will have the most beautiful Uxith-beeko (Nest-friend, romantic partner) would come flocking, see. Poor Wuleen had many dreams, many as big as this one.

So Wuleen had decided to come to Skyrim, on the back of a caravan with the others looking for a better life. This type of transport isn't exactly looked kindly upon you see, there were about 30 of us stacked in the caravan and barely had any room to stretch out your tails. And most days the kind hearted caravan merchant kept us covered under with no light to keep us out of sight. You know, he had us chained sure to prevent leaving the ride early, but he had us fed and most days he left us alone. Except on some nights, he would grab one of the young girls out back and they would come back shaken and wouldn't talk to anybody after. Wuleen felt bad for them but there was nothing we could do, the caravan leader is a Kajthux (ample Serpent, giant snake).

Not all 30 of us made it too see, a few feeble ones died on the way, including one of the girls taken out by the Caravan leader and he just tossed their bodies to not get the rest of us sick, what a kind man. Not Wuleen though, Wuleen held on, Wuleen is going to become the best bard ever in Skyrim, nay Tam-riel. Wuleen had big dreams and he was not about to die young.

When Wuleen can finally see the castle by the cliffs of Solitude, Wuleen pushed the kind hearted, warm spirited caravan leader down the cliff while he was taking a piss at the dock workers afar, Wuleen didn't want violence, but it felt like the right thing to do. Wuleen enjoyed watching this flaccid Koac (Vulgar expression) piss and shat himself as he tumbled down the cliff and splattered on the ground.

When the Caravan leader didn't come back, Wuleen pretended to accidentally found the keys to everyone's chains. Wuleen helped everyone go but some remained a bit longer cuz' they fear the caravan leader might come back and hurt them if they try to run. Wuleen yanked their tail and kicked their shins and they wouldn't go. Wuleen gave up on convincing them and walked up the roads alone to the castle on top of the cliff by the sea, Solitude."

I paused and sticked my long tongue out at the stranger in black, I am pretty sure my Argonian eyes flickered as I said this "I extend my tongue and convey that I am Thirsty, buy poor Wuleen-zish a drink so I can tell better stories. Wuleen tells the best stories yes, Wuleen had quite an adventure."

The Stranger smiled, can't quite see what his face was like under his helmet but I am sure he had smiled, and the words coming out of his mouth makes the Argonian's heart sing, "Bar-keep, another round for our scale-y friend here."

"Agh!" I greedily gulped down the flagon of whatever the men or mer calls these, and let out a satisfying burp, "I am satisfied with the stranger's gesture and will now resume the story, Where were we, yes, Poor Wuleen-zish came through the gates of the solitude, just after being warned by the guards that the city don't welcome beggars, Wuleen hadn't had a decent change of cloth you see, all this way here. But Wuleen made sure to fix it up a little.

Didn't matter, Wuleen had came all this way for the Bard's college in Solitude, and that's where Wuleen will go. Wuleen haven't got any more coin on him so wuleen can't quite exactly shop for new clothes or even a hot bath, but Wuleen is confident that the second that when I see whoever's in charge of the bards college, they will hear and fall in love with Wuleen's voice immediately. True talent, you see, do not need flowery. And Wuleen is nothing If not confident, plus we Argonians don't sweat.

So, the happy and excited Wuleen asked around for directions, a few cold shoulders and was harassed by a homeless old man who is looking for his master, this one's got the devil eyes you see, so Wuleen didn't want to talk to him more. Wuleen might smell bad right now but this one reek of death.

Wuleen eventually found his way to the college. It wasn't supposed to be difficult, see. The bards college is quite grand and right near the blue palace. And only the most luxurious people Wuleen had ever seen are coming and going in that place. The doors, oh, how old and well ornated, the windows, how well decorated and polished they are. It is a place just as Wuleen had dreamed, no even more. Wuleen had seen some buildings and cities before but the city of solitude was sure the most brilliant. Things that Wuleen had only ever read or heard the bards sung about, are all right here within reach."

I wiped some tears from my eyes and says, "I wept from the happiness, kind stranger, if you bear with me, Wuleen will only take a second."

Stranger waited patiently and when I seemed ready, he gestured for me to continue,

"Wuleen came upon this high elf, Viarmo, the headmaster of the bards college, he is quite well dressed in clothes that Wuleen didn't understand how it was crafted. You can tell he spent some time polishing his fur too, although there aren't quite a lot, only his hair and a trimmed beard. Before walking up to him, Wuleen took a little bit of moment in front of a bronze mirror and had used some spit to wipe some dirt from his own scales too. After that, Wuleen walked up to him abruptly and immediately grasped the attention of his. I will try my best to re-enact the conversation too.

'I erect the spine of gratitude for your precious time, headmaster Viarmo, if you have a second to hear, Wuleen had wanted to become a bard here at the college' I tried standing straight as possible in front of this brilliant man.

'Wait? What? Who are you, what's your business at the college.' The bearded headmaster jumped almost didn't realize that I was going to speak to him.

'Sir, Wuleen didn't mean to startle you, the young and the humble Wuleen would like to learn how to be a bard from here at the college, it is my dream to sing and cheer people on through their days and bring laughter to them all.'

'Oh…you?' the kind professor looked at Wuleen, 'An argonian… we don't get your kind here often.'

'Wuleen understands you don't see many marsh-lings here at the college, but it is my life's wish to sing for the people and cheer their spirits up at their darkest hours' Wuleen tried to be as eloquent in the common tongues as possible.

The kind headmaster nodded after taking a while to process all this, 'alright then, do you know "Ragnar the Red" or "Age of Aggression", let's hear it.'

'Wuleen is confused with his head feather down, Ah… What is this…Ragnar the red or Age of Affression, Wuleen had just come to Skyrim and are not familiar with the customs and popular songs here, but Wuleen knows many songs from the Marsh, wuleen can sing a song of the egg-born, it's a shame there isn't any frogs here, so Wuleen can't play with his music of vossa-satl'

The kind headmaster laughed in a cruel tone, 'An Argonian, with no idea of any song in the common tongue, wishes to be a bard. And they say comedy is dead.' He then waved and half dismissed me, 'Tell me, Argonian, who put you up to this, Erikur or a lady of the court? Ariaa? Or the others bards? Did they put you up to this? Hell of a good joke too, a great homage to the 'sultry Argonian bard'. To think I actually thought you were serious for a second, preposterous, what are you going to tell me next, that you are here to court a high born lady so she can tuck your tail?' he winked, the book he speak of is quite popular for some reasons, it appears that many lords and ladies North of the Marsh have a specific and odd liking to our kind.

Wuleen didn't get half of what he was saying, Wuleen had just wanted to sing, so Wuleen can prove it to him that I have the talent to become the best bard in Skyrim. So Wuleen started doing a few verses, his sweet and honeyed tunes from the people of the Marsh but before Wuleen could even finish, he was interrupted.

'Wait, wait, I don't know what kind of language is that, but its truly awful, its not melodious and nothing seem to rhyme. If you want to become a half decent singer, you are going to have to learn our language, but that is been proven hard for your people.' Viarmo shook his head and he tried to say it in a polite way, but his words cut as daggers. 'I am not so sure you will be a good fit here at the bard's college.'

'I shake with disbelief and tearing up from your harsh words, please, kind sir, it is Wuleen's dream to become a bard and I had come all the way from the black marsh to Skyrim on a caravan. Wuleen hadn't think to do anything else in this world.' I had dropped to the ground and begged in the way I thought would work, I cried out as loud as possible and threw myself on the ground to try to get the kind master to give me a chance.

Headmaster Viarmo took a step back, seemingly to avoid me getting the tears on his fancy new shoes, 'oh get up, you, Wuleen is it? You shouldn't do this, completely unnecessary, come on now, get up, people are staring geez.'

'Please, kind headmaster, give Wuleen a chance, I learn fast and I am a humble student' I cried some more and refused to get up.

'Agh, fine, get up, we will talk more.' The headmaster helped me from the floor and I quickly tried to wipe the tears and dust from my scales. 'You should be aware that many apply but we accept very few people. When possible, we ask applicants to perform tasks the college needs completed. In this case, I do have a task befitting an aspiring bard.' Oh, the kind headmaster, bless his soul, he had took pity on the poor Wuleen!

'yes, anything, Wuleen had always wanted to become a bard, I will do anything.'

'Sure, you are persistent, I will give you a chance,' the kind headmaster said.

'Oh thank you, divine blesses you, kind headmaster what would Wuleen need to do?'

'Jarl Elisif has forbidden the Burning of King Olaf, a Festival put on by the Bards College. We need to change her mind. To convince her I want to read King Olaf's Verse. A part of the Poetic Edda, the living history of Skyrim. Unfortunately, the verse was lost long ago.'

'Ah, and that will be Wuleen's task?'

'Yes. According to Giraud, our histories keeper, the portion of Edda dealing with King Olaf might still exist in Dead Man's respite. I need you to retrieve the poem and then you will be a part of our college.' The kind headmaster smiled and sent Wuleen on his way 'I wish you luck in finding the verse.'

Wuleen left the college and was ecstatic, see, didn't even think to ask him more details, Wuleen had thought that it will be an easy place to find if he asked around again. So Wuleen wandered on the streets and started poking around the town again, most people didn't want to talk to wuleen, except another egg brother Jaree-Ra, he seemed strong and harsh at first, but this warm and familiar face in his colorful head feathers didn't give Wuleen a hard time at all.

'You are looking for the Dead Man's respite? Eggbrother, What? Do you got a death wish? You don't look like a fighter Wuleen-Zish. The place is crawling with Draugrs and all the great warriors that went in didn't come back.' Jaree-Ra told me, 'who put you up to this, this is a trap, they didn't expect to see you out of there alive.'

He had said all of this in words of concern, after hearing Wuleen's story, he patted me on the back, 'Ah… I am sorry Wuleen-Zish, you have come to the wrong place, the people of Skyrim's minds are as closed as the Maxeem-urto (the river clam) when you picked them up and that's even before the wars. Take a word of advice and go home to the Marsh, Jaree-Ra miss there dearly.'

Poor Wuleen felt his world ended right there, and the colors of the world was drained, no songs left to sing and nothing has light anymore. Wuleen is not a fighter, Wuleen never held a sword or weapon of any kind, its not wuleens craft, wuleen will never survive and I will never become the greatest bard Tamriel has ever seen, it is all for naught.

Hence why you, kind stranger, found Wuleen here, drinking alone, because since there is no more hope for his life, it might as well be a happy ending, I shall drink myself to death, to the early grave and then be buried in the waters on stranger's tide." I numbly downed another drink, and pretty sure I hissed a few sounds as the concerned stranger took the rest of the drink from me. "Let me drink, just let poor Wuleen-Zish drink his sorrow away."

To Wuleen's surprise, the stranger smiled again, "don't give up your hopes just yet, Wuleen-zish right? I will help you get that damned verse so you can shove it in that Altmer's pompous ass-face."

"You? But didn't you hear, the place has Draugrs all over, Dead Man's respite, the place where warriors meet their doom, and the great tales and songs of theirs ended. I appreciate the gesture, kind ojei (People not of the argonian kind), but the great tale of Wuleen-Zish will end here."

"Not this warrior, and no this is not where your story end, my friend" he laughed and he threw his cloak open and underneath it, was the darkest, shiniest and most mesmerizing armor Wuleen has ever seen, it seemed to be made entirely out of ebony and is etched with the most fascinating patterns and he stood up from the table. If he looked tall before, he is now like a mountain towering over me and almost blocked the light coming in from the candles. "Are you in or not Argonian, you didn't sound like the type of person who would give up before giving it a shot based on your stories and frankly I have taken a liking to you if you spoke true of your past. Or have you lost your pair already in less than a day."

I didn't respond right away, but the gasps and whispers from other patrons has made me slowly sobering up. Wuleen can feel the others all looking over at their table.

"Isn't that the dragon-slayer, the savior of Solitude!"

"Yes, the black dragon-slayer, the nameless hero in ebony."

"It is truly him, he is still in solitude?"

"Oy, A toast to our hero, the Ebony Warrior!"

Even the beautiful and most famed bard that sings at the capital of the whole Skyrim, came over and gushfully tried to pay a song of tribute to the man in front of me, the kind stranger who bought Wuleen-zish drinks and listened to the poor Argonian bicker.

That is when Wuleen-Zish had realized that he may become the best bard in Tamriel after all.