As I put these words to paper, I cannot help but think that I stared death in the face many times this day, and by all rights my corpse should be in a ditch somewhere, forgotten.
But this is not so. Despite everything that has occurred, I find myself sitting in a warm tavern devouring a roast rabbit leg. I can scarcely believe it, and my hand still shakes as I write.
But I get ahead of myself. I just bought this journal upon arriving here and to be honest I've never found anything in my life worth writing about... until today.
My name is Esias. I am a Khajiit with no friends, no family, and no past. I don't even possess a surname, for all the good it would do me. Perhaps it is better that way. I was abandoned you see, when I was very young. I cannot recall my birth parents, or how I came to be alone in the world. My life could have ended there, but my some miracle I was found and adopted by an Imperial couple living in the northern parts of Cyrodiil. As far as adoptive parents go, I believe I was quite lucky. They raised me well, treated me as their own, despite the fact that I owned a tail and they did not. For many years I lived the simple life of a commoner, helping my adoptive parents with chores, and even helping the other villagers with their day to day tasks. I became somewhat adept at hunting, I like to think my natural catlike abilities made me able to stalk deer and rabbits better than the rest. I knew how to handle a bow, skin an animal, and even spot plants with special properties. I soon found out that everything I had grown to learn would be of little use when put to the test.
I returned from hunting one day, slightly defeated with only one rabbit to show for my troubles. I should have realized the wildlife had been chased off by something other than myself. Screams and smoke were my only welcome back to my home. A group of bandits were in the process of ransacking my village...and killing everyone within eyesight. I watched, frozen in fear, as those I had called neighbors were cut into pieces, screaming the whole time. I tried with all my might to will myself to let loose an arrow at the bandits, but my body stubbornly refused. I had never taken a life before, and I found myself unable to do so that day, even as I saw the family that took me in, dead in the dirt.
The bandits began yelling amongst themselves. Some sort of commotion took hold, and in an instant they ran off, disappearing into the forests that surrounded the village. I had only taken a few tentative steps toward the bodies of they only people I knew before I heard them. The sound of hooves racing toward me. I had never seen Imperial Soldiers before, though I had heard many stories of them. However, I do not believe they had ever heard stories of a Khajiit being adopted by Imperials. I had only moments to register that they looked upon me as a murderer, and not a bystander. And with the unsheathing of many a sword, they didn't appear to be in the mood for taking prisoners.
So I ran. I ran as fast as my legs would take me, deep into the undergrowth where I was sure no horse or armored man could follow. I ran well into the night, and only as the sun began to rise did I collapse. It may have been the exhaustion, but I felt numb. I barely had time to mourn the loss of the only people who cared about me before trying to figure out my next move. As it happens, I'm not great at plans, so as soon as I found some berries and edible plants, I continued to move. As the sun passed overhead I realized I was heading north. The only thing that meant for me was away from my past, away from the soldiers and away from Cyrodiil. As it happens I only managed to put distance on that particular group of soldiers. I still managed to leave my past and Cyrodiil, as the soldiers who captured me the next day informed me that I had entered Skyrim. Illegally.
And so I managed to avoid capture from one group, only to be taken prisoner by another. My life appeared to be spiraling into the ground, where I was sure it would eventually be buried. I was carted off to a nearby town and informed that I was to be executed for taking part in a rebellion with my fellow prisoners. My explanations that I had only just found out what country I was in this very morning fell upon deaf ears. One Imperial soldier had the decency to tell me my body would be returned to Elsweyr. I felt telling him I'd never even been there wouldn't improve my chances of living all that much.
And so, once more I was face to face with death, who had taken on the form of a very ugly executioner with a very ugly axe. They shoved me before a small block and kicked my head upon it. And that's when I saw it. I had heard about them in a story my adoptive parents told me while growing up. But nothing could have ever prepared me for seeing a dragon with my own eyes. It appeared death was changing forms quite rapidly, as it roared so powerfully I felt my body leave the ground for a moment. Then I felt my return to the ground and my vision blurred with pain. I manged to stand up and vaguely realized that people were dying all around me. A Nord called to me, one of the prisoners who had escaped, and I followed him into the relative safety of a tower. I say relative because I don't think dragons find stone towers all that impressive. The Nord told me to follow him if I wanted to survive, and I obliged. I had just enough time to take some armor and an axe from a dead person before moving onward. I'm not sure what I expected to do with such things, perhaps the dragon would think me a less appealing target if I looked armed.
I continued to run, quite blindly and stupidly, avoiding bouts of fire and falling debris before I found two people yelling at me to come with them. The Imperial who had told me I was going to die a few minutes before, and the Nord who I had been following. It all happened so fast I'm not sure why I chose to follow who I did. While the Imperial was nice enough to offer a burial in my supposed homeland, I can't help but think a lot of my problems have involved Imperial soldiers and thinking I'm more of a threat than I actually am. So I followed the Nord... I still can't remember his name. Nice of him to offer to save my life though. We were just about to get our bearings when Imperial soldiers came barging in. I guess not following them had its drawbacks, and I suddenly found myself fighting for my life. By fighting I actually mean blocking his attacks and wondering why he even wanted to kill me. He has almost broken through my clumsy defense when I brought my axe crashing back into his face. To be honest I wasn't thrilled with killing someone, but with everything that had happened up to this point, I kind of wanted to cling on to living.
I can't quite explain how it feels going from not knowing how to fight, to killing several opponents. It's not something I'm proud of, but if these last few days have done any harsh teaching, it is that life will not stand by and let you sneak past it. If someone wants you dead, you can either kill them or let them kill you. The next few hours were a blur for me, a blur of steel, blood and panic. And then quite suddenly I was outside again. I watched with my Nord companion as the dragon flew off into the distance, still not quite sure if I was awake or if I had gone into a delusion at the sight of the executioners axe. The Nord assured me that I was still very much alive, and so was he, thanks to me. I didn't have it in me to correct him, and he was kind enough to point me the direction of a nearby town that I could stay. And with that he was off. With the sun rapidly setting I made a quick jog towards the nearby town.
I was almost there when I found myself making a wrong turn into what appeared to be an old mine. At its entrance stood a lone bandit. He looked at me, and I at him. Something hit me... the all too recent memories of my old life and the bandits that killed that old life... I was mad. Madder than I had ever been before. I had been captured, almost executed, nearly burnt and eaten by a dragon, and then parrying blows from a soldier. And then there's this asshole. grinning as he prepares to pull a knife from his waist.
Too slow.
With speed that surprised even myself, I leaped at him with a dagger in each hand. One found its home within his neck, the other his abdomen. He crumpled with a gurgle and I stood over him, shocked at my actions...and yet a little proud. Killing was not something I had gotten used to yet, and I hope that it is something I never will. But after today's events I vow never to stay my hand when lives are at stake, particularly my own.
And so here I sit, waiting for the adrenaline of the day's events to fade so that I can finally rest in the bed my money has bought me. I write this journal for reasons I don't fully understand... perhaps this day is only the beginning of something important in my life. My new life. My trials and tribulations in this land of Skyrim.
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