A gritty bosmer and his Imperial companion

• Posted by Witschas November 7, 2011 - 908 views

  Now, the story of my encounter with Ulfgar was the event that turned out to be the onset of my adventure in the land of Skyrim. But you might find it relevant to know about my past before that incident. As I mentioned, I was nothing but a beggar. I was born into poverty - an immediate outcast of society with little hope of choosing my own destiny. I wasn't even given a name, as my mother always called me 'son'. I never knew my father, and my mother always refused to tell me about him. I don't know if it was because of shame or hatred or any other destructive feeling, for I was so young that I can't be certain to have read her emotions properly when she was confronted with the matter.

  I learned to take care of myself from the very start, as I observed the world around me. I saw how older kids stole food from the stands, and how thieves managed to rob people of their possessions through scams. One pair of thieves that always amused me was this gritty looking bosmer and his Imperial companion. They were magnificent, as the bosmer would sit on the ground by the market and beg for coins from passersby. When he saw a richer looking individual he jumped in front of him and begged as did his life depend on it. When the victim tried to push him aside the Imperial would swiftly cut off his coin purse and disappear in the blink of an eye. Now what amazed me was that these two thieves never kept the money for themselves. They gave away the money to beggars like myself, and every once in a while they'd purchase medicine for those who could not treat themselves.

  However, everything comes to an end, and one day they tried to rob a target, who turned out to be an agent of the Imperial Army. Before anyone could see what happened the bosmer and the Imperial lie face down in the mud with arrows sticking out of their lifeless bodies. I felt an indescribable anger, and vowed that I'd someday take revenge on the Imperial Army - despite them being my own kin. But my mother had noticed my fury, and quenched it with her warm embrace, as she told me they only did their job.' Thieves are frowned upon by all honest citizens', she had said, and I asked if we weren't honest. She sighed, as she explained to me that taking what is not rightfully yours is not acceptable. Sometimes desperation can push people over the edge, and they'll start breaking the rules of society to save their own lives. That is not a bad action - it is a fair and justified action, as life should always be valued above wealth. But it doesn't make the action acceptable by society. Still upset with what had just happened my anger turned to sorrow, and till the day I die I'll always remember my mother for what she had said that night. I promised myself that I would make my own rules as society obviously couldn't tell good from bad. And so I became a thief - much to my mother's dismay.

  She died when I was ten years old. Due to some disease which I could not cure. Her dying words to me was a wish for me to be a good and honorable man. A wish I still seek to fulfill this day.