Who am I? Perhaps a better question to ask would be who was I? I have been many men over the course of my bleak existence. A child, raised poor and hungry, accommodated by a widow who shared no blood of mine. Her husband, like many Nords, fell before the Aldmeri Dominion. The conflict shattered the spirits of man and stained the lands a shade of crimson never before seen or so she told me. I knew not the plights of these men for I was just an orphaned boy. My only concepts were ferocious hunger and the devilishly bitter cold that made Skyrim my home.
The widow was a compassionate woman. Her heart radiated the warmth necessary to prevent me from living the life of a thief or a murderer; or so I thought. I was no more than a lad of 14 years when she fell ill. It was some incurable illness she had presumably contracted from the local wildlife. I say incurable but we simply lacked the septim to provide her with treatment. Once again, as if I was destined, I was back to having nobody. The temptation to succumb to my instinctual need to survive by any means was astronomical. She; however, was a devout follower of the nine. The days and subsequent nights were filled with prayer and stories of reverence one could expect from someone so loyal to their faith. Had she been alive today she would have vehemently fought against the ban of Talos worship until her head was lopped off by a kingdom that supposedly represented her own people.
Memories of her teachings: compassion, respect, hopefulness and most importantly seeing the good in one another kept me earnest. Instead of resorting to petty crime to survive like many in my situation I turned to the Jarl. I offered myself, body and soul, to the Jarl of Riften. I wished to protect its vibrant wood from all means of attack providing I had food and shelter. I had a distinguishable lack of muscle largely due to malnutrition but the Jarl respected my conviction enough to offer me a position in the town guard. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth I worked diligently to become one of the most trusted and dependable members of the guard. This loyalty was met with a much welcomed promotion to captain of the town guard.
For the first time in my life I had felt like the nine were smiling upon me and my good fortune. How does one go from orphan to losing his only parent to becoming captain of the guard in his hold without the blessings of the nine? When I thought things couldn't be any better I met the love of my life. Within a year we were married under the binds of Mara and conceived our child; a radiant baby girl with a gleaming smile. I was happy. We were happy.
I don't know what action I had taken but the blessings of the nine were not permanent. Everything was inconceivably perfect…until she came.
I had heard word of a middle-aged, stern maiden by the name of Black-Briar opening up shop in Riften. Seeing as she was a law-abiding citizen I had no reason to question her motives. Until one day I noticed that things were beginning to change. I'm unaware as to what alerted me at first, whether it was a change in the wind or something else entirely, but I knew that the Black-Briar family were rotten to the core. This became especially apparent when the Jarl had taken on a new steward under the name of Anuriel.
Members of the guard began changing. Some men were discharged under unlawful pretence while others committed crimes that I would've never imagined in all my years of service alongside them. When new members were being added to the guard without my approval or any semblance of a discussion I knew outside interference was becoming prevalent. Thievery had reached an all time high and the once silent Thieves guild were beginning to make themselves comfortable within the walls of Riften. I expressed time and time again that these changes were only going to harm the innocent citizens of Riften but they fell upon the deaf ears of the Jarl's steward. I had a feeling she was nothing more than a plant and this entire show was orchestrated by the wretch of the Black-Briar family.
I decided at that moment that if I liked my head atop my shoulders that I should remain quiet and use my resources to root out corruption in our own ranks. I was on the verge of a major breakthrough when an incident occurred. Maven's son Sibbi had made a pass on my wife while I was at Mistveil Keep. He was a young lad but under threats of harming our daughter my wife complied with his demands. I returned home to my wife who was crying frantically for me to forgive her. Upon calming her down she explained what had happened. Had it not been for my need to comfort her in that moment I would have surely gutted that despicable whelp in the street for all to see; position be damned.
I knew now, more than ever, that I needed to pluck this contaminated root before it festered any longer. I marched to Mistveil Keep but spotted the slimy bastard along the way. The various vibrant colours of the famous Rift Forest bled into a disturbing red hue before my very eyes. The nine could not save me from what I was about to do. With sword drawn I charged at the lad. He was unaware of my presence until the moment I could have cut him down but it was as if the nine had transferred their good will to this reprehensible sack of flesh.
A member of the guard, who I had presumed was working for the Black-Briars, shot me in the arm with an arrow. It crippled the use of my arm and saved his worthless life. It wasn't long before I was brought in front of the Jarl only to see Maven in her court; I could swear the bitch was smiling. I attempted to plead my case but the Jarl who I had served faithfully for years branded me a liar and I had no choice but to hang my head in shame as my title was forcefully stripped from me. The Jarl did not imprison me for what I had done because no actual crime was committed but I felt like that was nothing more than a convenient excuse as to not show bias towards my years of loyalty.
I was escorted out of the Keep with bottled feelings of rage and sorrow. I remember distinctly muttering to Maven that I hope she spends eternity burning in Oblivion. The guards seemingly didn't hear me but I'm positive that hagraven certainly did.
I walked through the door to my home and embraced my wife once more. I told her of the situation and I could not stop the flow of tears from my own typically unfaltering eyes. She comforted me in a way that only one's true love could and we discussed plans to use what little wealth we had to move to Whiterun. Things seemed to be under control there and I had befriended Jarl Balgruuf during annual summits to discuss various issues affecting Skyrim.
After some time I finally allowed my eyes to close for a moment of respite. I believed in my heart that the nine would smile upon us once more and that I had dug my way out of worse but what I didn't know was that I wasn't at the bottom yet.
I woke up amidst void-like darkness. The fire had gone out and I could feel a damp warmth beside me. I knew this warmth all too well: it was blood. I knew I wasn't injured and I quickly turned my head to see a silhouette with a dagger prepared to end my time on Nirn. If it wasn't for the moonlight glistening off the blade I surely would have perished. Just as the assassin made a lunge for my throat I shifted and grabbed their wrist. Fortunately the assassin was much smaller than myself so I used my strength to wrestle the dagger from their hand and threw them to the floor. I grabbed the dagger quickly and jabbed it into the side of the assailant as they desperately tried to exit my home.
I allowed them to flee. I allowed them to flee because I knew what was next. I could make out two pools of blood in separate parts of the room. I inspected myself to find no wounds which, accompanied by the deafening silence of the night, meant that my wife and daughter no longer drew breath. I collapsed to the cold wooden floor and could not make a sound. I was completely and utterly defeated. I knew with every fiber of my being that Maven did this. I knew she had the Thieves Guild and the Jarl in her pocket but the Dark Brotherhood?
No longer did I have any hope of victory. I was stripped of my title, my resources and my very will to live. I had no choice but to flee Riften under the veil of night before I was wrongfully accused of murdering my wife and child. Considering the manipulation Maven had issued thus far it was easy to predict that was the next step. I decided then and there to forgo my home. I could not save it. I grabbed what armour and weaponry I had laying around the house and left. I even took the dagger used to kill my wife and child on the off chance I ran into that dastardly Dark Brotherhood member once more.
I ran through the rift; unsure of where I was headed but knowing I needed to escape before my fate was sealed. I had heard rumours that one of the dishonourably discharged members of my guard had left Riften to join a childhood friend of his in banditry. The bandit group was fairly large and could offer me ample protection from the Dark Brotherhood attacks that I knew were coming. I heard that they were holed up in White River Watch outside of Whiterun. I only hoped that they would accept me considering I had some connection to one of my former men. The Whiterun guard was no longer an option in my mind. While I would have most likely been better protected than I would be by bandits, I would also forever be out in the open among watchful eyes, unsure of who to trust.
The journey was long, arduous and I had nearly lost my life to bears who made their home near Ivarstead but I made it. The bandit on watch had aimed a bow and arrow at me and insisted I pay up whatever I had in septim. I raised both hands in defeat and explained where I carried the septim on my person and that I had a relation to one of their men. Fortunately, he was within earshot and quickly arose from the cave to escort me inside. He explained to the others that I was a good man and then I explained what had happened to me at the hands of the Black Briars. The leader Hajvarr Iron-Hand was stoic during my recounting but surprisingly welcomed me to the band with open arms. In fact, all of them were surprisingly welcoming to a complete stranger. They couldn't be all bad considering they even trusted a blind man to watch the entrance; definitely not a choice I would've made myself. Hajvarr even insisted we have a banquet with what mead and meat they had "gathered" in the past week. I knew that by choosing to partake in this lifestyle that I was betraying the only mother I had ever known but I was so desperate that I could not think of another way.
Months had passed and the snow that kept us unwavering company throughout the season had vanished seemingly overnight. Flowers were beginning to bloom and accentuate the evergreen trees present on the mountainside as we continued to tyrannize merchants and other folk that happened to pass by the cave we called home. Some hauls were larger than others but we never went without. Being stationed just far enough away from Whiterun as to not alert the guard made it the perfect place to run our operation if you could call it that.
Occasionally we would catch hints of information from passing travelers or one of our members went into Whiterun to purchase alchemical ingredients. Typically it wasn't anything too special: a loaded caravan or some noble but this time it was different. The civil war between the Stormcloaks and the Imperial Legion had been ramping up to something big. Ulfric remained out of their clutches and was taking imperial camps left and right. His movement seemed like an unstoppable force by all metrics. That was…until that day. One of our men received word that Ulfric as well as a few others had been captured at the border and were due to be executed in Helgen. We anxiously awaited any further news but when it arrived we were wholly unprepared for it.
A dragon. A dragon had intervened in Ulfric's execution. A creature that resides exclusively in legends regaling folk with the tales of early man. What's more a dragonborn had appeared from seemingly nowhere and had slain a dragon merely paces from us. All of these tales seemed ludicrous. A dragon followed by a dragonborn? It had to be a farce! Hajvarr angrily refused the news and referred to it as "...nothing more than fairy tales drummed up to distract from the problems facing Skyrim. He threatened to mercilessly execute the next person who mentioned anything about dragons or dragonborn. And so…we dropped it.
The next day began like any other but there was a noticeable lack of travelers occupying our route. I initially thought that they had smartened up but considering our position they would've wasted substantial amounts of time going around us instead of taking the risk. I expected that by now Rodulf would have spotted someone and shook them down for a few septim and materials. It was quiet and then suddenly a thunderous blanket of noise echoed throughout the cavern from outside. Everyone immediately grabbed their weapon fearing whatever monstrosity's silhouette was about to appear through the entrance's blinding light.
The distinct sound of a blade ripping through flesh could be heard in the distance as we moved toward it. It was a large man, presumably a Nord, who was obliterating our ranks. His actions were seemingly inhuman. No man that large should be capable of movement that fast. He killed two of our members by bathing them in fire from his very own mouth and that was when it occurred to me. This man was the legendary dragonborn and our lives were now deemed forfeit by his might.
I was locked in a stare with his cold, seemingly lifeless eyes as he uttered a foreign language that I could only assume was dragon tongue and instantly appeared before me. He wrapped his massive hand around my throat and lifted me off the ground and I could not so much as beg for my life. I was mortified but at the same time I felt relief. I knew these were my dying breaths and that I would soon see my beloved and my child once more. In a way, I was thankful for the sweet release of death. Even though this man had slaughtered what few friends I had remaining I still viewed him as a hero. If I could have spoken at that moment I would have thanked him. I felt no pain as my world faded to black. Finally. Freedom.
Why am I prattling on about my past? Well, when your soul is trapped in a plane between life and death because the dragonborn himself was wielding an enchanted weapon you don't exactly have much to do. The dragonborn? A hero? Don't make me laugh. I'm just relieved I haven't encountered my wife and daughter in this vile place. May the nine protect them.
I've been playing through The Elder Scrolls III, IV, and V lately and this idea came to me so I sat down and wrote it all in a single sitting. I hope you enjoy and please don't hesitate to leave feedback!
TheMortalCoil
