Sundas, 17th of Last Seed, 4E 201
I have managed to keep hold of my journal while escaping from the clutches of madness that this journey has suddenly turned into. I feel that it is best that I write this while the events are still fresh in my mind, that way I do not lose the sense of chaos that I had felt or the true feelings that I had in those precious moments that my life flashed before my eyes.
The only reason that I came to Skyrim in the first place is that Morrowind is in shambles. The Red Mountain has unleashed its wrath upon the land, and while I often revel in disaster, fire and brimstone raining from the sky atop my head – knowing that there is no way to escape it and that it was not caused by my own hand – simply is far too much for even me to revel in or to enjoy.
In walking away from one bad situation, I managed to walk myself straight into another purely by means of my own ignorance. I have lived too softly – too cushioned – in my lifestyle in Morrowind. I have forgotten the sense of adventure and that natural leeriness of both my surroundings and the people I would encounter. I had assumed, with so many fleeing from Morrowind that I would be safe… and that disgusting thought process had me knocked unconscious and placed in irons before I even knew what had really happened. I was placed in the back of a prisoners cart, my items taken from me – all but my journal and my undergarments taken from me – and placed with prisoners of a war that I hadn't even known was occurring.
In those fragile moments, just after watching one of the Stormcloaks be executed, I felt… elated. Perhaps that is a strange thing to feel, but my heart was pumping in my chest, like the adrenaline rushes I used to feel just after releasing an arrow into one of my targets. In a way – I felt like, soon, I would be going home to the void and that I would be feeling the Night Mother's embrace and be with Sithis in my death.
It seemed a fitting end – caught by the Imperial Legion, facing death for all of the crimes I had committed in Cyrodiil. I could have asked for no other, proper, death than the one I was facing before me. But just as I stepped up to join the Dread Father, I heard and saw something that I had never even imagined to be possible.
I suppose, in a way, after all I had been through in Cyrodiil, it should not have been such a shock. But watching the great dragon come down from the sky and land atop the tower, his voice roaring in my ears as the others fell from shock. Seeing him as he looked straight at me, as if he were there because of me, the only other feeling I had was… kinship for him, as if my blood called to his blood.
As I managed to stumble to my feet, my sight blurred from the flash of fire, I couldn't help but wonder – had this dragon been sent by Sithis in order to preserve me? I do not understand what my purpose is here in Skyrim just yet, but I feel it is important if my life was spared mere moments before it was forfeit.
I'm unsure now if the request that Rolof has made of me is important or not. A battle against the Imperial Legion could be of great importance, especially with their previous ties in infiltrating and destroying the Brotherhood. I have had to interfere with their attempts before now, after all.
For now, I will simply resupply myself here in Riverwood, with the assistance of Gerdur and her husband Hod. The townsfolk have been immensely helpful to me and I feel inclined to remain faithful to them and will travel to Whiterun as soon as I possibly can to inform the Jaarl of the dragons attack in Helgen.
Once that errand has been taken care of, I will see what more I can learn of my purpose here in Skyrim, but until then, Riverwood is a much needed and appreciated hideout for me to re-claim myself as an explorer, a bard, and an assassin.
Hail Sithis, for you have brought me purpose once again.