I will not bore you with the details as to how I arrived in Skyrim without so much as an invitation. If you know my journals, you know Ilyana, a vampire near goddess status, plagues my life with her deranged sense of humor as if to say: You are not as powerful as I am, and so you must endure my wrath.
I have swum the streams of Skyrim by night, known the darkness of endless underground fortresses, and served time in the netherworld where I survived a quest that ended in owning a spectral horse.
And then I joined the Dark Brotherhood.
My leader’s name was Astrid. I say “was,” for I killed her with the Blade of Woe. But no more on that least it affect your own journey in similar parallel worlds. But I shall tell you that my quest to kill the emperor began when I took my first quest under Astrid’s direction. Woe. I should have listened to the shadows of her underground base, but I did not. “Every life form must end sooner or later,” they whispered. And fool that I am, I should know that better than anyone else since I am vampyre.
I am now pondering vengeance for my leader. Who does this vengeance serve? Me? Astrid? Should I do the deed, well, well, well. How many mortals will seek me out? Where can a killer of an emperor hide once the deed is done? I would not mind running with Astrid, but that ship has sailed.
Turning my back on Astrid’s burning base, I set my feet towards Solstice, reasoning that a direction may be changed afore the act is done, ripened, matured.
Who is fooling whom?
Death to the emperor!
