Imperial Legion Headquarters, Castle Dour, Solitude



23rd of Frostfall, 4th Era 201

Only I could have joined the Dark Brotherhood and the Imperial Legion in the same month. But I am getting ahead of myself. Before I did either of those things, I went Thalmor-hunting.

Now, hunting even the despicable Thalmor is a serious crime, that crime is called murder. Evil kidnapping monsters scheming world domination they may be, but under the laws of Whiterun Hold they have the full protection of the law and cannot be murdered in cold blood as they surely ought to be.

I caught up with some a few miles southwest of Fort Greymoor, which is west of the Western Watchtower. There were two soldiers and a mage escorting a Talos-worshipping Nord prisoner to his rendezvous with the Thalmor torture dungeons. At first I was committed to a strategy of stealth, and shot an arrow into one of them from a great distance away. Unfortunately the damn Thalmor conjured a Flame Atronach and scoured the area searching for me, and soon found me. I switched to swords and soon dispatched the two armored Thalmor soldiers, but their battlemage in Thalmor robes was trying to turn me into a cinder with his fireballs. I ducked into a crevice and drank a couple quick potions, and then closed on him and skewered him with both my sword and my dagger, up under the ribcage and into the diaphragm and lungs.

I couldn't pause to loot the bodies though, I had to find that prisoner. I am a rather... distinctive... looking personage in the Hold, and I knew they would recapture him and torture him until he told them what happened here, and then a warrant would be issued for my arrest. I tracked him down, his hands still bound, running desperately towards Whiterun, but there were innocent witnesses nearby. I hid carefully and shot an arrow at the fleeing captive, and the bystanders were none the wiser. He died straight away of course, unarmored as he was, like a surprised deer. I am sorry I had to do it, but I did have to do it, and it was a cleaner fate than what the Thalmor had in store for him. I went back and looted the Thalmor bodies, and I had my armor. I cut off their heads to add to my collection of trophies. Barbaric according to the traditions of the Nords, perhaps, but nothing communicates a message quite as effectively as a stack of skulls outside your front door. Back home in the bleak wetlands of Hjaalmarch I put the heads in an iron mesh box and drop the container out in the marsh. Soon the little fishes have picked them clean. They even eat the brains from their stupid elf heads, so they can adorn my front steps without their decayed brains leaking out all over the place. Which would be unsightly, as well as unsanitary.

I then went to Solitude, cleared up some... past issues with the Legion, and they sent me to clean some bandits out of Fort Hraggstad. It is somewhat disturbing that they didn't control a fort this close to their headquarters in Solitude, and perhaps even more disturbing that they sent me on what would have been, for the average Legion soldier, a suicide mission. One person alone against a fort full of bandits. I suppose they didn't expect me to survive, and if I did survive, they could certainly forgive a matter of a little... death sentence on my head from that whole mess in Helgen. If I could take out Fort Hraggstad alone, I would be a person they definitely would want fighting for them, and if I didn't, well, sentence served.

Of course they had no way of knowing what I was capable of. Most of them, I never had to soil my scimitar on them. I either took them out from afar with arrows from my fire-enchanted bow, or cut their throats with my dagger as they lounged around the fort in a mead-induced stupor. One young lady, if I may call her that, was facing right in the direction I had to enter the room. I shot an arrow into a corner of the room to attract her attention, and came up behind her and slit her throat as she was investigating. Her boss at the far end of the room never even looked up, his turn was next.

Before returning to Solitude to report my success (I figured I would make them sweat a little), I went down to Falkreath to talk to the Dark Brotherhood. I met the family - a rather nice Argonian shadowscale named Veezara, a humorous child-vampire named Babette, and the lovely dunmer assassin Gabriella, and of course the den mother of this strange tribe, Astrid herself. Less cordial were the mage Festus, the werewolf Arnbjorn, and the redguard Nazir, though I imagine I will warm up to Nazir in time. For the time being, he made his feelings clear: as far as he knows, I could screw up a job and be dead tomorrow, so no point in getting better acquainted now. He gave me my first contracts and told me to do them whenever I wanted, which worked out well for me since I have the Legion to report to. I told Astrid I needed to complete my work with them before I could do any contracts.

The contracts were for two guys severely down on their luck, and one was for an angry ex-wife and business competitor of her husband who was likely the person who put out the contract. Nazir wasn't offering to tell me who the clients were. The first two guys are just bums, crazy vagrants. I don't understand why anyone would go to all the trouble of actually getting a Dark Brotherhood contract for a couple of unfortunates. Seems like kicking them when they are already down, but whatever. A contract is a contract.

I also met what must be the world's only tame frostbite spider, Lis. When I first saw it in the room with the alchemy table, I started to reach for my bow but Babette warned me sternly that Lis was a pet and not to be harmed. I went down into the pit to see it and it was indeed tame.

 



I sold off some stuff in Whiterun and went back to Solitude to report my success to General Tullius. My career with the Legion has begun. Tullius is a serious man, to the point, and does not suffer fools gladly, but I like him. I like Legate Rikke as well, and Tullius seems to rely on her to interpret the world of Nords to him. He doesn't understand Nords and doesn't seem all that eager to start understanding them, but Rikke is a Nord and has insight into the actions of the Stormcloaks. It is also encouraging to see a woman in such a responsible position in the Legion.

Can one be a dedicated member of the Dark Brotherhood and a dedicated soldier of the Legion too? It remains to be seen. Off to battle I go.



9th of Frostfall, 4th Era 201

Dear Diary,

Finally sorted out that problem at College. The whole thing was so absurd, I don't want to talk about it. I will tell you this, if I ever get an opportunity to kill Thalmor in the future I certainly will.

Long story short, I had to go to Labyrinthian, an ancient Nord tomb complex ruled over by an undead guy. I thought I would never leave alive. I resigned myself to the prospect that my corpse would lie forever in Labyrinthian.

I learned something important in Labyrinthian though: I can't expect to win in a melee slugging match against serious opponents. Going sword to sword with a well-equipped guy in heavy armor just isn't going to work for me. My moments of deadly combat were only relieved by equally terrible visions, visions of dying in horrible ways. I take this to mean I should have died several times, those fates only averted because the visions warned me of what was coming. I only survived Labyrinthian because I embraced something I should have known to do all along: use stealth. Use arrows, use a stealthy dagger to the throat if need be. Only use spells as a last resort, use swords almost never. It's kind of a shame, since now I am far more powerful in destruction magic than I used to be. In the end, I danced around that dragon priest and shot arrows into him and he never had a clue where I was. He never had a chance, because he never could see me to kill me with his staffs of death. The fact that it was a dark crypt certainly helped.

I am torn between starting my work with the Dark Brotherhood and signing up to fight for the Empire in the Civil War. I told Astrid I would come, but that I didn't know when. It is not because of any patriotism that I want to join, perish the thought, but because I want to be supplied with a large number of relatively unthreatening targets to hit at. I have seen these Stormcloaks at work, they are weak and stupid, cannon fodder. Not like those damned wights I was dealing with in Labyrinthian. The Imperials aren't much better of course.

So yes, I am saying that I want to be in a position to deprive more people of their lives, quicker. I want living targets for my balls of fire and frost, and my arrows. The fact that they are Stormcloaks is almost incidental: like I said, I am not doing it because of patriotism. Even I however am taken aback by the numbers of widows and orphans I am contemplating making. To kill bandits or to assassinate powerful and privileged people is one thing, but these are farmers, husbands and wives of ordinary people. Am I okay with producing the number of widows and orphans that I will surely be producing when I turn my full force against the Stormcloaks? People who must surely be unprepared for dealing with one such as me?

I have to figure that they or someone like them would have died anyway. The sooner I can put the hurt to the Stormcloaks, the sooner this stupid civil war will be over. But I am not doing it for that, am I? I am doing it to help me become an ever more efficient dispenser of death. Why?

It's not something you think about when you kill bandits though perhaps I should. Of course draugr and wights have no family, or no living family anyway. Evil magic users keeping captives for their own sick experimentation, well they have to die. These men aren't any of that. Just stupid farmers who want to lay down their lives for a stupid cause that they think is right and good. I suppose the sooner I get used to the idea of killing people who are just ordinary folks, the better. The Dark Brotherhood doesn't discriminate, they'll kill anyone if the ritual is performed and the pay is right. It's all for Sithis. It all started with Sithis, it will all end up with Sithis. The time in between is just a dream. I bless my sword, my dagger and my bow, and pray that those who are deprived of their lives by them will go directly to the embrace of our dark Father. More souls for Sithis, fewer for Mundis. That's how I live my life.

Before I join the Imperial Legions however, I have some unfinished business. I need some Elven armor, and I hate the damn elves, so it is time to go hunting Thalmor. They ferry prisoners regularly between Whiterun and Solitude, it should be easy enough to catch some on the road. Legally of course it is a crime even to murder the wretched Thalmor, there must be no witnesses. Even their Nord captives must die, which is probably better than the fate the Thalmor have in store for them. The Thalmor will torture them until they renounce Talos and make them implicate all their friends, then probably they will kill them anyway. It is a mercy for them and for others for them to die.

In other, less grim news, I heard they are building a new college near Whiterun. Unlike Winterhold, it will be a college for all the major disciplines. Some group from Cyrodiil is setting it up. They must have spread Jarl Balgruuf's palm with a lot of cash to get permission, he's a conservative sort and not too keen on higher education, but I imagine he's desperate for cash these days with all the war preparations.

The bitter cold nights (and days) here in Hjaalmarch turn my thoughts to cozying up at night with something warmer than my dagger, but if I am to consider a mate they must be one who knows and accepts my way of life. When I enter the Dark Brotherhood, of course I cannot go around telling prospective mates "by the way, I am a Dark Brotherhood assassin, I hope this won't come between us?" Perhaps we shall have some clients who will be suitable candidates: people who will already know what I do.

In my free time I have been trying to make my home feel more homey for the upcoming holidays. I suppose my interpretation of what that means is a little unorthodox. I think skulls and soul gems complete a holiday display, plus I need some way to creatively use the skulls of my enemies. We all define success differently.  

 



 

 

28th of Hearthfire, 4th Era 201

 

Dear Diary:

 

I am terrified. What a joke this is, a joke on me. When I wander through the mountains, I am always casting Detect Life so as to not be taken by surprise. I am scared of my big empty house in Hjaalmarch. I never exit the front door without a sword in my hand, I am thinking of not using the front door at all but only exiting through the roof. The big empty house and its echoes haunt me, I constantly feel that I need a sword or a spell in hand even in my own house. I should be dead many times over, I know this. The visions keep me from falling into dire harm, visions of myself dying in various horrible ways. I wonder if I am still sane. It would almost be reassuring if I weren't.

 

The irony of this is not lost on me. I am the boogeyman of the nightmares of others. I am the silent blade from the shadows. The arrow you never see, you only turn at a whisper of feathers and then the arrow through the brain and you are dead, without ever seeing your enemy. Grelod the Kind, did she have nightmares of me, I wonder?

I who am the nightmare of others, I am a nightmare to myself. Ever since I killed Grelod, most of the proper city merchants don't want to have any dealings with me. They know somehow it was me, word gets around. It's not bad enough that I am a Khajiit. For most Khajiits, simply being a Khajiit is bad enough to keep them banned from the cities. But I am a thane, I am the Dragonborn. It must really rankle the Nords that their first Dragonborn in centuries is a Khajiit and a woman. And wealthier and more powerful than they can ever dream of being. Not that it does me much good.

 

I am petrified in fear. Why do I do it? I could take my money and go buy a house in the Imperial City or back home in Elsweyr and set up shop as an alchemist or an enchanter. I suppose technically I could do that, though I know full well that's a lie. I know full well I am a slave of the gods.

 

I even know which ones. Being a Dragonborn, that's not something that happens to normal people. It hasn't happened in centuries. I am here because Sithis and Akatosh did a dirty deal with each other to save the stupid world, and I am their illegitimate offspring. That's why I'm not dead, that's why I get the visions that save my life. Because neither Sithis nor Akatosh want their investment ruined. Until they get theirs, I'm fucking infallible. Why then am I so afraid? Because I am, really really terrified, all the time. Even in my own home, my own home haunts me with its corners and its shadows and its sounds.

I guess I should start at the beginning. I entered Skyrim without a septim to my name. I fortunately happened on the first dragon attack in aeons, which both saved my life and gave me some dead corpses to loot for my first armor, my first robes, and my first crude weapons. Even then, I was desperately poor. I stole steel arrows from the guards in Falkreath because I couldn't afford to buy them. Stole them right off their backs, the oblivious fools. For my troubles, the Falkreath guards got together a collection to get some sellswords to come pay me visit me later. I was just walking out of my house, and bam, these four thugs. They are fertilizing my garden now, and I am some 300 septims richer. If that is what the guards paid them, it is a poor price for being dead.

My garden - I don't grow vegetables or anything normal like that. No. I grow ingredients for deadly poisons. Because I am an assassin. I was born to be an assassin. Before I ever knew anything about this Dragonborn business, I loved Sithis. And Sithis loves assassins. The Night Mother is the only mother I ever knew. As a child, my hard-drinking abusive grandmother would get lit up on skooma and tell me about Sithis, and his consort the Night Mother, and their children. The Dark Brotherhood. I killed 2 of their members too, who would have been my future brothers, probably new recruits they were sending off to prove their mettle or die in the attempt. They died in the attempt.

Anyway, in the beginning. In the beginning I was a poor thief in Skyrim, and a poor mercenary. Then the visions came more often. And the whole Dragonborn business started. I started winning, and I started making money, a lot of it. I paid some poor unemployed scribe in Whiterun to give me a basic education, and then I went to college of all things. The College of Winterhold, a college for magic. I am still attending, when I can get a minute to study away from all my killing. Grelod was my first actual assassination though, and a sloppy job it was too, that's why everyone in Skyrim knows it was me. Mostly I kill bandits, who rarely see me coming or if they do, don't realize what monster it is that they are dealing with. A monster I am, but I am also a frail small woman too. I am a tiny little thing, that's what makes it so funny. A tiny little Khajiit with strong sword arms who spits fire and ice, and whose voice can hit like a fist. But that's only if you see me. My black fur and me, we fade into the shadows pretty well.

 

And now I have the money and the power and the nice home in Hjaalmarch that is nicer than the Jarl's house, and it doesn't matter. It's not like I am happy. I am afraid all the time.

I was just recruited to the Dark Brotherhood. I haven't had a chance to meet up with my new family yet, strange things are happening in Winterhold, things I must resolve, but I will soon. My new home?

I am a witch, a thief, and an assassin. Why would I be such things, if they fill me with terror? I am a terror, a terror to others and I terrify myself, and my repeated visions of my death terrify me. I am a living embodiment of pure murder, child of Akatosh, child of Sithis. I am a hunter of men. Why am I so terribly afraid?