Sundas, 17th of Last Seed

	My intentions of migrating north to Skyrim seemed rational in my humble opinion. As a bounty hunter for the Empire, the possible riches that could be obtained through the Stormcloak rebellion could be endless. Unfortunately, my expedition came to a rough halt in its consummation at my unjust capture by the very people I served. If I was a less wise woman, I might have assumed that the Empire had intentionally grouped me in with that band of Stormcloak bastards that had been ambushed, but frankly the whole situation seemed as if it was simply a run of bad luck on my part. 

I awoke with a throbbing head, bound in the back of a cart with the other rabble, one of which was surprisingly the enemy leader, Ulfric Stormcloak. We were led into a small town where we were to be executed, but something very surprising came about before that, and I know that this may seem upmost insane, but a literal dragon swooped in and started destroying the hamlet. The whole thing was honestly one big blur, and I am very glad I had chosen to eat lightly before I set out this morning. Thankfully, I am alive, and managed to escape, heading down a snowy road leading east to a town called Riften.

Already I am not free of troubles; a robbed caravan with bandits hiding in the bushes blocked the way forward, but my blade made sure to spill their dirty blood. A quick prayer was said to the poor Khajiit merchants that had been slaughtered before I continued on to find sanctuary. With night approaching and the air getting colder by the moment, a cave off to the side of the road felt like my best option… only it appeared to be the den of more bandits. Or so it seemed. As I fought through the cavern I encountered strange beings with red eyes that cast a spell of the same shade that drained me of my energy. They did not prove to be very challenging, and I’ll have to remember to take Darius out to drinks when I get back home for teaching me that spark spell. I can still smell the charred corpses of a few of them.

The only thing more disgusting than that stench is the mutilated, bloody remains that I find littered throughout the place. Worse still, there are no beds here, only coffins. Could this be the home of vampires? The individuals that resided here had all the traits of their kind, so it’s very likely. That, or I’ve stumbled across a cult of cannibals. Either way, they are now dead, and I am free to rest here without worrying about wildlife or the harsh Skyrim winter. It may be unorthodox, but I’ve filled one of the coffins with hay and plan to spend the night encased inside. I shan’t be doing anything more strenuous today; I grow more and more weary with each passing minute.