The Dragonborn’s Journal - Entry 1
Middas 18th of Last Seed 4E 201
I never know how I want to start these things... I suppose I should start with how I had to get a new journal from the local general goods store in this quaint town. My old one likely got burned in the fire...
To recount, my journey from Kvatch to Skyrim has been... Difficult overall. I left by carriage, as a hired guard, late in the morning for Skingrad. The ride was long and uneventful, with no bandits ambushing us. It might have been our company: a youthful, master Breton mage - Miliana, two Redguard brothers from the local Fighter’s Guild in Kvatch - Armaro and Wilcolm, and me. Miliana left us as at Skingrad, but we picked up an Altmer - they looked like they might have been part of the Thalmor considering the looks he gave us - on their way to the Imperial City.
We were ambushed on the way. The brothers and I were able to hold these highway men off fairly well and I think I surprised them with my own ambush and them stepping on some lightning runes while they weren’t looking. Though, Armaro and Wilcolm did most of the work and finished most of them off. As soon as battle was done, we went on our way once more.
The rest of the ride to the Imperial City was quiet with the brothers and I talking about how each other is going and how our reasons for travel. (I lied and said it was time for me leave home and make something of myself out there. They on the other hand were on their way to a job in Chorrol.) As soon as we got to the Imperial City, I parted ways and got a room at the inn, awaiting for the carriage to Bruma that would arrive anywhere from a day to a week.
I spent those next few days at the lake and getting info from the beggars, mainly on news from Skyrim and any rumors on the road. War was in Skyrim, gods know why my gut and He says I should go. Perhaps it’s me worrying over Leel-Naz, ever since he ran off to Skyrim with that no-good Nord friend of his... We still were getting letters from him, but I worry for my younger brother. As for the road, one beggar heard rumors of increased patrols, especially along the border, and one or two words about a few people going missing along the road from Chorrol to Bruma. Otherwise, all was fine.
The carriage for Bruma from Bravil arrived about two days after. I wasn’t the only hired guard for this trip. There was also some Nord mercenary returning home to go and see her ailing mother, a cryptic Dunmer spellsword, and Rogue whom seemed to be the coachman’s lover. We were escorting some merchants. The beggars were right and the roads were fairly clear, save for more frequent patrols we passed by. We made good time to Bruma.
Although, I was, from then on, on my own. After resting up in Bruma, I left immediately the next morning, just as the sun was starting to rise. The mountain air was freezing and I wasn’t well prepared so I moved swiftly. I was able to make it over the border, no problem - though the Imperial soldiers kept holding me up and searching through my things.
But, from then on, I got into some serious trouble. I got ambushed and knocked out. When I woke up, I was in the back of a carriage in rags with only the family heirloom - an extremely old coin with Tiber Septim’s face on it - safely on my person, under my tongue thanks to my paranoia of imperial soldiers stealing it. On the carriage, to my right was a Nord dressed up in some outfit of significance and his mouth bound. Across from me, there was were three other Nords. Two were in a blue soldier’s outfit and the other in rags like me.
One of the Nord soldiers, Rolaf, informed me that I walked into their ambush and the other, Lohksing, cursed about a “lizard” coming to the land of the Nords where I “don’t belong.” Rolaf quieted Lohksing and the one in rags, Lokir, apparently was as unfortunate as me. The man with a gag on was the leader of this rebellion - Ulfric Stormcloak. As it was very apparent the soldiers - I hoped to the gods not me while getting very angry with Him - were off to the block and we exchanged farewells.
When we got into Helgen, I wasn’t let go. Gods know why, the imperial captain was being lazy even with objections from Hadvar and sent me off to the block, after Lokir tried to make a run for it. Whether it was by luck or by fate, I was spared. By a dragon of all things.
His eyes were so red... Was, is, will be, like Him but with a hunger to them. His scales were blacker than the shadows during a starless night. The ground shook at the command of his powerful voice. I can see him with my eyes closed and he haunts my night terrors... I took this chance to escape, with Hadvar while Rolaf and Lohksing had run off together. Hadvar and I made it to Riverwood.
Hadvar’s extended family, Alvor and Sigrid, allowed us to stay at their house for a little while, only if I go and tell the jarl of this dragon attack. I’m thankful for the things they’ve given me and I’m going to leave for the road to Whiterun tomorrow.