I thought I'd write a story on my characters since playing Skyrim over and over and over beating it with one race after another is just insanely boring. I thought I'd experiment with this small tale.
"It begin in Helgen, To me it just seemed like a dream. When I first came to this place only then did I learn that this was just a curse."
A Nord. In my life I had to be born a Nord at this time. Damn imperials will capture anyone that even looks like he wants to kill you. Although I won't lie, I wanted to kill them. All of them. I didn't actually have that power to do so, just thinking it made me feel better. I didn't have long to think that though, I was knocked unconscious before I could move. When I awake from my slumber, one of my brethren greets me. He was a friendly fellow, can't remember his name at the moment I didn't really seem him again after those events. Some Nord thief begins going hysteric because, as I recall, was the usurper Ulfric Stormcloak. I never saw eye to eye with this man, but I knew why the thief was going mad. Pleading for you life, such a sad life he has had. I don't have much to talk about, I was enslaved by Orcs for most of my life. My chance to survive again dashed with this, but I didn't care still. Its the gods will for me to die then so be it.
I went from fort to fort, master to master, but what never changed was the kindness of the elders there. I learned to read and write, this eventually made me an ambassador to a large band of Nord bandits. I could negotiate contracts with the Savage Orcs and those Murderous Nords, after awhile the amount of guards started to drop on my "tours" to the bases. By the time I was thirty-eight, it was just me and my old mentor Rok'Gora. The Orcs saw no reason for me to run and they were right. I had no home, no family, and no way to survive if left alone. My old mentor and master, being an Orc himself, cared little for his own kin. He had once been a great warrior, he told me his name came from when he was very little he had killed three Redguards with a single rock. Although they had swords drawn, years of beatings and whippings had toughened the old Orc's hide protecting him from any mortal wounds. He was known as a Stone Mountain in his prime, beating his enemies with his large Warhammer or Fists and never giving ground to an enemy. In a series of failed attacks against Hammerfall Castles he was eventually removed from any command. Spared from death for the deeds he had done while in servitude he eventually settled as a scholar. I had only come into his apprenticeship when I was nineteen and again when I was twenty-five (he had sold me for three new spell books, when I was sold again for cheaper then what he bought me for he jumped on the situation. When he came to get me with open arms, I punched him in the face. After that he became like a father to me). Now while traveling down the road with this frail old Orc on my way from Hammerfall after negotiating with a faction a the Nord bandits. Rok'Gora suddenly stops, when I turn to question him why a fire bolt zooms past my head head. "An Orc wishes to go out honorably" he says quietly. Tossing down a knife he begins to speak again. "My aim isn't as well in my old age, stand still if you aren't brave enough to fight back slave. Hammerfall knows my face well and there are plenty of those scarlet bastards around here who want to make a name. You can trust me I won't go down easy." I begin to get a lump in my stomach, the cruel fate I am to face. The bastard had probably planned this when he had bought me the second time, to die at the hands of the one he trained seemed a respectable death to him. Picking up the knife, a million thoughts race through my mind, one that Rok'Gora taught me the most freezes. Survive. Survive until you feel you've done everything you wanted before your passing. I charge the Orc with his teachings in my mind. Fire and lightning roar around me. I finally grab onto my master putting my knife into his chest. jumping back I watch as he slinks onto the ground. Two things that will stay for me forever from this event is the single tear that rolls down his face and the smile which haunted me forever as if to say congratulations your free. I don't know how long I walk for, but the air eventually becomes colder and colder. I pass out onto the ground from exhaustion from there the Imperials find me and I wind up on the cart.
Back at the fort in Helgen, its like being a child again. My father was actually a Jarl's housecarl until he was killed protecting the Jarl. I had journeyed much of the land with him visiting forts and towns and cities. Helgen was a very lively town, but returning now is a very depressing sight, the villagers calling for the death of there own kin and friends even relatives. After we stop, the thief tries to escape. What a fool he was, six arrows land into his back and we continue to our death sentenced. Damn Imperials don't care if you are a rebel or not, I could've just been imprisoned for all they cared and forgotten. No one knows my real name, but if I had to be called something I told them to call me Malru'Thean. We are lined up and prepare to be put on the chopping block. some Imperial General begins to give Ulfric some long awaited speech as how he had been foolish to try and overthrow the Imperials and the Thal-- forget whatever he says both are asses I was just ready to die and get this over with. The strange thing was the roaring noise the whole time. I just ignored it because we'd all be dead anyway. The first Nord is hasty. funny how being eager to die was running in this crowd. I was the next to go. Just as I was about to go, some god must have been watching and sent me a savior. A Dragon. long extinct, end-bringers of time, blah blah blah. Didn't matter to me, I could live again. the executioner couldn't finish his job on me and the Imperials were thrown into panic. Perfect I had thought. The friendly Nord had the same idea as me, the tower was safe for now. After that everything was a blur. I run through the burning streets watch man, women and child dying, I reached the keep and decide I had better chances with the friendly Stormcloak then the Imperial Dog. Safe from the Dragon and in the hands of Imperials. running deeper and deeper in the keep, when we get to the dungeon we've killed the last of the imperials in the keep. I find a spell book my master had tried to teach me when I first entered into his home, it was strange to me why he'd teach me to fight. Now picking up this book the old bastard prepared me for my future. Putting away the knife I had picked up I enchanted robes of the previous owner of the book. Poor Nord never learned the spell if it was still here. Mages have a habit of destroying the spells they learn so that no others may learn their secrets. Magic is power, power is what I thought was everything, but I soon learned that magic connects this world, that is later. We escape through the underground chasms. After I part ways with the Nord, and travel, I don't know where. Something drew me there though, the college I mean. I proved my power to the "guard" out front and headed in. talked with the other wizards there and eventually traveled into the ruins of long forgotten rulers of the lands. The event which was truly a mystery was when I returned to the college, the center well blasted me in flames, I was then given the image of three Nords. . .