A Letter From UlfdisDear Aunt Hervor and Uncle Jomar,
Sometimes I wonder why I am still here. I met a family in Whiterun called the Grey Manes. One of their sons had disappeared, been taken by the Imperials. The other son was in hiding, else he be next. I found their missing son. He was a man bigger than Uncle Jomar! But the Thalmor had him, and had been working him over for some time. It was the Imperials that gave him to the Thalmor, them and a family of Nordic collaborators known as the Battle-Borns.
It is just as so many say. The Empire licks the boots of the high elves. I see the damned goldenrods here in Skyrim, dragging men off in chains for worshipping Talos. Some people still do it openly here, not in secret like we did back in Bruma. Jarl Ulfric and his Stormcloaks do. They fight for Talos, and for a free Skyrim.
So do I. It started with the damned Thalmor. First when I set Thorald Grey Mane free, then when I saw Thalmor patrols on the road, dragging people off in chains. The Empire does the same thing. After Helgen, I have no doubt what dark fate awaits those prisoners… It has to stop. The Jarls like Balgruuf will not do anything though. He even said to me that it was no concern of his who the Imperials executed. Only the Stormcloaks seem willing to fight for what is right.
I have seen more of Balgruuf too. I met a young man named Erik in place called Rorikstead. We went into Bleak Falls Barrow and pulled out that stupid dragonstone for the idiot court mage. I felt like choking the peacock with it when I got back to Whiterun. The dragon did not give me the chance though.
Yes, another dragon, different from the first one. It was attacking one of Whiterun's outer towers. The next thing I knew I was out there with a band of Whiterun soldiers, and it was flying overhead. Many were called to Sovngarde, and the blood-swans ate till they were fat afterward. I fought as the rest, and in the end the beast was felled. With its last breath it called me Dovahkiin. Whatever it means, it must be a curse.
Some fools started calling me Dragonborn after that. All I did was be the last to thrust the wolf of wounds into its gullet. That hardly makes me dragon in human form. I may not know what my Ma and Pa's names were, but I know they were not scaly beasts!
I was glad to be quit of Whiterun. The city is big, and wealthy, but I have seen where that wealth comes from. Imperial bribes, traitors like the Battle-Borns selling faithful Nords to the Thalmor. A hard rain will fall upon Whiterun and its conniving Jarl. I feel sorry for those good folk still living there, like the Grey-Manes. They will suffer for the machinations of their leader.
Windhelm is a much different city. It is just as big as Whiterun. Larger perhaps. Certainly much older. It is the ancient capital of the Kings of Skyrim. The city is all dark and brooding stone, whose dour mood is barely lifted by the white blanket of snow that covers everything. A shrine to Talos rises from a hill across the river from it, as if the Old Man was looking out over his city. There is even a temple dedicated to him inside the walls, next to the palace!
For these Nords fight, rather than take the Empire's bribes. I have joined them. I may not have been born in Skyrim, and I may not have a home here, but I can see this is my fight. Even as I write this, I am on my way to an ancient tomb. Ulfric's right hand - Galmar Stone-Fist - thinks we can find the Jagged Crown there. It is the ancient crown of the High Kings itself. If the gods grant that we bring that back to Windhelm and place it on Ulfric's head, it will show that they favor us over the damned faithless Imperials and their puppets.
-Ulfdis, Windhelm.
This post has been edited by SubRosa: Apr 12 2012, 10:41 PM