Today I have been clubbed senseless, carted East of the border, sent for exe-bloody-cution without so much as a word of explanation, let alone a trial, and then watched an ancient mythical creature destroy an entire village. Then some kind of soldier drags me out of there, and then disappears, after telling me he has an uncle in a place and to go there. Well thanks and all, but how am I supposed to know where that is? And do you honestly expect me to remember the names of anyone I met today? Or their faces? “Big guy, rough-looking. Aryan. Beard. Drinks a lot. Quite stabby” is basically a phenotype around here. And it’s not even noon.
It’s bloody freezing up here, too. Sigh. At least it’s not raining.
So. Here I am. Skyrim. Mountainville. Snowdriftistan. Land of the palefaced shoutymen. I can deal with that. I’m a Redguard – we’re basically the same, except we’re technique where they’re power, so this shouldn’t be too much of a culture shock. It’s not like I’m stuck in some backwards-ass dump like Valenwood or down in Cyrodiil. I’m probably still wanted in Cyrodiil. I should never have attacked that Nondrick guy.
I ought to take stock. I have some dirt cheap clothes, a little food and drink, a healing potion, and a cheap iron blade. I’ll need to work on that pretty fast. Won’t last long without some equipment, or anything to trade with, and I’ll need a lot of money to get back to Hammerfell. That won’t come cheap, especially as it sounds like there’s a war on, but I’m not getting caught up in someone else’s fight, especially not with a bloody dragon on the loose. Still not sure whether or not I hope I just imagined all that. It’s kind of a lose-lose situation really. Either I’m insane or the world is doomed. Or maybe I died at the border, and this is all some cruel celestial joke. It would explain the dragon, at least.
Be it a dragon or figment of my imagination, it flew off to my right, so I’m heading left.. There’s a fairly good path here, so maybe I’m in luck and there’s a town nearby. If not… well, I’ll learn to survive, I guess. It’ll probably be fine.
My name? Well. My name is Ymelda.