Cearbhail: A short chapter, but hey... almost all my chapters are short. I try to get the message behind the chapter out and then... I move onto a new message, a new chapter. So... here's the latest Shoutmen.

-Bloodstain-

Bloodstain's journal, entry 1

I have decided to follow one of the core principles of the Shoutmen; to write our thoughts in a journal. The very idea was created from our late Shoutman, Seer. She was the daughter of our Dragonborn, a princess of our nation. She made us for the very reason of fighting the Aldmeri Dominion. It was a grand war, a war that I was not alive in. A war that I had no chance of being part of. It was a war that I wished I could have fought in. I know that I was good enough to make a difference, making some choices that some of the previous Shoutmen, Graybeard included. He was one of the young Dragonborn who were discovered after the Thalmor used our original Dragonborn's blood to create new Thalmor Inquisitors.

He hated the Thalmor. The experiments, the training, the blood draws. He told us, the younger generation, about some of the things he had to go through. When the war came, there were so many Shouters that the Shoutmen did not stand a chance. Our proud nation was destroyed, our High King killed, our princess murdered. I am all that's left, me and a few Shoutmen who are hidden among the locals. They long hung their masks and silenced their Thu'um. As such, I can see why I was targeted, me and Graybeard. The older generation is being hunted, killed, and I…the only active Shoutman, is everything the Aldmeri Dominion hates. I am their fear and I will find out why.

What has them worried? 100 years and now they strike? Something smells rotten. There must be something wrong on their end. Maybe this is my chance to change the world.

Bloodstain.

…

I managed to escape from Graybeard's murder site without inquiring any injury or attack. Just to make sure I stayed out of sight, I threw myself underwater and started swimming. I knew that there was at least one more Shoutman still alive. He was in hiding. If you think I'm paranoid, you should meet him. He's a Forsworn. He's been hiding in the hills with a bunch of madmen who have become guerilla warriors. Funny enough, when he presented himself to the Shoutmen, he actually named himself Forsworn. Just like how Graybeard called himself by his title.

Currently, I was walking around mask-less. I did not want anyone to know who I was and it worked well. Since I never came out of the closet, so to say, no one really knew I was who I was. Getting from the river near Windhelm to Reach territory was not easy. Of course, I don't trust any form of travel that I can't control. That left out carriages and caravans. A grown Imperial man walking with a bunch of Khajiit outcasts? Nope, that does not bode well with people who know how to think. So, I was going to steal a horse, but then I thought better of it. Word gets around that a horse gets stolen and then so man who may or may not be the famous Bloodstain just happens to be on a horse heading to the Reach? No, someone would figure that out too.

So, with all those options out of the equation, I was stuck with one option: walk. Here's how I did it. I stop by a local tavern, grilled a person there, grabbed a bounty, and said I was a bounty hunter. Now while I'm walking around, heading to some cave near the Reach, I can claim that I'm a bounty hunter. That will satisfy any Thalmor agents who are out looking for Bloodstain, enough to the point to where they will at least question my whereabouts. If nothing else, my cleaning lady at Whiterun Hall will state that I was in my lobby studying before heading out to collect a bounty to bring in some extra cash to pay for my excessive drinking habit and cheap hookers. She knows the drill, that's our thing. When questioned, that's her story. I live by it every time I leave the house.

Luckily for me, my bounty was an easy one. Only 1,000,000 gold…to kill a man dressed in a large overcoat, sporting a bloodstained mask. He wears a hat, and is a Nord. He is also a Shouter…hmm. Gee, I wonder who that could be. No sign of who requested it, only to bring his head to the Thalmor Embassy up in Solitude. Jeez, think I might go crash a party later. Once I get a team together. I have one old guy to go find and one young guy like myself. This was going to be fun.

Currently, even though I walked nonstop for perhaps a day, I was sitting in another tavern, just drinking a pint. I was listening to the current talk around town.

"Did you hear? The Stormcloaks that followed Bloodstain up the mountain said that he found his old buddy, dead. He jumped right off the mountain, it seems." A drunk Nord who was spilling his drink all over the floor couldn't help but read off of the paper sitting in front of him. I could not help but glance over.

"I heard that when he found out, he went mad, Shouted an innocent bystander, and then was shoved off a cliff by one of the Stormcloaks. They never found his body and now the Thalmor want his body recovered. They're offering a one million gold reward for it." His buddy spouted. Man…it was amazing how fast talk flew these days. Offer up a few gold coins and the word will spread like fire. The Thalmor have something going for them at least. They know how to make a man's home his enemy.

The bartender was eyeballing me the entire time. "You're an Imperial, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah? So?"

He wiped down another glass. "We don't see many of you anymore, not since the war between the Imperials and the Stormcloaks ages ago."

"That was 100 years ago. Times change." I offered back. It was true. My kind did not normally come to Skyrim. We were…disliked. We lost the war after all and when someone losses, they right to speak gets revoked. History is written by the survivors, and just like with the Thalmor, the history of my people was snuffed out. Once the Empire lost here, they retreated back to Cyrodiil, where they met a strong Aldmeri Dominion waiting for them. It was a bloodbath. Any surviving Imperials were a miracle…and here I was. I'm a fucking miracle.

The bartender turned around with a shrug. Everyone thought that Bloodstain was a Nord and for good reason. When I put on that mask, I become a Nord. Well, in speech patterns only. Everyone just assumes that someone that great at fighting can't be an Imperial. It's amazing how people forget the basic truth of our history. Well, it doesn't matter anymore. My breed is an endangered species, as are Orcs. They were long hunted to extinction, with the exclusion of the Thalmor Inquisitors, who were Orcs who were experimented on to turn into Shouting powerhouses. The experiments did a lot to them, twisting their minds, and rendering their bodies to mush after a year or two of being used. Their chemistry could not cope with the constant changes of the dragon blood.

"Did you see the latest bounty on the wall? Some guy in the Reach is worth one million as well. Some guy who dressed up like a Forsworn." He laughed. "Can you believe it? Two Shouters in one day make it to the top of the Thalmor's most wanted list?" It was the same guy from before.

I squeezed until my shot glass exploded into shards of glass. It was enough to catch everyone's attention. I spun from my seat, facing the Nord who dared to stand up and walk up to me, standing a good three inches taller than I was. I won't even bother going into muscle size.

He looked down at me. "Whatcha want? You have something to say?"

I tilted my head to the side. "Why do you think that is? Suddenly, the heroes of Skyrim are wanted by Skyrim's enemies? Doesn't that sound odd to you? They've existed for years past the war with no hunting, not as long as they played a part, and now…they're being hunted and killed? Do you think it's because the Thalmor are scared of something? Something that…they fear that they can't control? What if…all the Nords from Skyrim just woke up…and fought for their land? Do you think you could take it back?"

My words had everyone stunned. They looked like they were thinking for once. I grabbed another shot glass and downed another kick of brandy. I turned to face him again. "How has your life been since the purge? Ever since all the jarls, all the thanes, killed? How was it to be told that you could no longer own a sword; that you had to work in the mines…not because you had to earn a living, but so that your son would not end up at the execution camps around Tamriel? Do you even know what life was like before the Thalmor? A time without war?"

No one answered. I slammed my glass down. I looked around. "I thought so. You've all been living in your bubble, afraid that if you move the wrong way, it will pop. Well, guess what…" I pulled out my mask and slid it over my face. "I'M BLOODSTAIN!" I threw my arms out. "Now…who want's a piece of me?"

I looked around. No one moved. One Nord, someone who hadn't spoken all this time, unsheathed a knife and charged at me. As he came close, I grabbed his slashing arm, snapped his elbow, kicked him off his feet, flipped him onto his back, took his knife, and stabbed him in the throat.

After he was dispatched, I looked back up at the remaining Nords. "Now…I'm going to go help a friend. You can either sit here and live in your bubble, or… you can do the Nord thing and begin forming a revolution. The Thalmor are scared…and for good reason. We are taking back Skyrim."

Cearbhail: Alright 2/ possible 10 chapters. Good, almost done already.