Chapter One: ...to the east, to Morrowind

In Cyrodiil, we made our living by getting by. Setsuna and Sethyas Velas, twin Dunmer outcast orphans that from the age of majority, were sent from the Chapel of Stendarr, our father of mercy, to fend for ourselves. Despite the rhetoric you will hear from diplomats, the Imperials can be as racist as any of their subject cultures. For there is little in the way of gainful employment for a peoples seen as demons or savage daedra worshipers.

When times were good we could sell ourselves as guides, or perform odd jobs for merchants around the city. Perhaps it was only the fact that the good times allowed for better living conditions for my sister that prevented me from falling too deep into my secret art.

I had never told my sister the horrible things I had done. You see, I've always had a knack for the arts of the Bow and the shortblade, the practice for these weapons I had while hunting out in the Forests for deer, so that we could have a decent meal.

But on more than one occasion I had come across a traveling Merchant with wares and gold that foolishly had no escort or bodyguards. I felt remorse for firing an arrow into their backs or slitting their throats as I snuck up from behind, but I felt worse for my Sister, going hungry sitting around some campfire in the cold wilderness, or begging for a coin on the streets.

I would never tell her where I got the gold, and she would never ask. I couldn’t tell her that I was an a common bandit, an assassin, even if it was what I was good at.

And perhaps your wondering was a cutthroat dredge like me ever contacted by the Dark Brotherhood? Yes, not just once, but on several occasions.

It would always happen the same way; we would be asleep in some Tavern along one of the roads that ribbon through Cyrodiil, or making camp for the night. And I would sense a figure approaching, making certain the Setsuna was asleep I would walk a distance away and a dark shadow would come out of nowhere.

I grew used too what they would say, so I would whisper out: " I will not accept your offer! I love my Sister, and I would die before I break her heart! I beg you now, leave me in peace!"

There would be a moment of cold stillness in the air before I could just make out a Dark-Robed figure becoming translucent and vanishing into the Midnight Air. What I said was true, I couldn’t bring myself to break her heart, although the career would certainly bring more money, but the worst she had ever seen me do was steal food, and I felt that it was my duty to protect what little innocence she had left.

But it was during one of these encounters, that I grew unlucky, and was torn from Setsuna. In a trail not far from Cheydinhal I spied an Orcish woman bound in Leather Armor and saddlebags filled to the brim with Wolf Pelts on her horse. Realizing she was a Hunter and likely on the way back to the City too sell the pelts off I decided to take her horse and loot for myself.

Drawing out my worn wooden bow, I notched an arrow and aimed for her head, the arrow struck true and her horse whinnied and reared as she fell off, her body hitting the road with a sickening thump.

As I ran towards the kill to claim my spoils, I was approached by an Imperial Legion Forester; he came riding like a winged twilight out of Oblivion on his Bay Horse, sword drawn, and yelling to the high heavens.

"Stop right there, foul murderer! Surrender to me now, or I will give you the death your foul banditry deserves!'

I considered running, I often had. But he would have had me before I got too far. On top of the fact that further down the trail I could see torches silhouetting the unmistakable profile of more Imperial Legion horseman, who had heard the commotion I had made.

Resigning myself too a long stint in Prison, I knew that I could still get word to Setsuna as to what had happened. No. I would tell her a fabricated story, say that the Legion was just pinning this on me, or that it was an accident, but I would never tell her that I ever resorted to murder.