The Journal of Shakur "the Red" Ir Shin Options

[Red]

color=white]I have decided to do this FanFic as a Journal recovered from Shakur's tomb, and not an autobiography.[/color]

On a certain night, of a certain month all contained in a certain year, I sat at the dinner table, chewing away, laughing, talking and smiling. I had invited my friend Hides-In-Eyes, a very sneaky Argonian but a good lad, for dinner. My parents, my sister, my friend and myself sat around the table, until the “Raining” took place. A flush of flaming arrows landed at once like hail on a tin roof, one piercing through the wood and cutting Hides-In-Eyes’ hand. Four men, three Imperials and one Dunmer rushed in. I was fourteen, fourteen, when I drew blood. Most 50 year olds haven’t killed a man. But there I was, stabbing an imperial in the face with a steak knife and then strangling another with my hands. And yet I didn’t think. I just acted. Watching my mother burning a man to death isn’t all too pleasant either. The Dunmer had been set aflame, but escaped death by ripping of his shirt. He ran screaming “You Redguard S’wit are scum!”. And that wasn’t the bad part. The town ignored it. They ignored the neighbors stopping the fire on the arrows. They ignored Hides-In-Eyes’ stitched wound. They ignored the bodies being dragged off by the local mage. They ignored that whole night as if it were torn from the calendar. But no one could ignore the Daedric writing on the robe. The writing that only the local librarian deciphered. Raelan Telganii.[/b]