Account of the Seventeenth of Last Seed in the year Two Hundred and One of the Fourth Era.

Oh, where do I even begin? This was not how I imagined my first moments in my homeland.

So I was passing through Darkwater Crossing, this little speck of a mining camp in a region called Eastmarch, on my way to the major city-fort of Windhelm. The last information I had about my father, Brevar Renven, was that he was last seen there. Unfortunately for me, there was a skirmish going on between Imperial Legion soldiers and some group I didn't recognize. I was trying to give the fight a wide berth. I wasn't being paid to get in the middle, and I had to reach Windhelm quickly before the trail ran cold. Then I was knocked cold. Some Legion bastard got a lucky hit from behind, probably thinking I was an enemy trying to flank them.
    When I came to, I was stripped of everything but my undergarments, tied up, and riding in a cart with these three men. The first one who spoke to me was a guy named Ralof, one of the men fighting the Legion. Guy next to him was a wimpy horse thief. And I apparently had the honor of sitting next to Ralof's leader; one Ulfric Stormcloak. I'd heard the name in passing, but never lingered on rumors. Guess I should have, seeing as I'd be dying next to him.
    The cart was taking us towards a town called Helgen, and the people just stopped and stared. Watched us like we were the latest entertainment. Some Piss-skin Elves were also there, but I didn't get a chance to make my displeasure known. They left quickly. We were parked at the executioner's block, and they were reading lists of their prisoners. Horse Thief ran off and got arrows in the back for his trouble; the dumbass. The Legion guy reading the list of the cart I was in knew I wasn't on the list, and this bitch of a captain ordered I be killed anyway. AND THE CUCK AGREED!! Mother always told me that Skyrim had strong men! The hell was this guy doing, letting someone commit injustice?!
    Lucky for me, of all things, as I was on the chopping block, a damned DRAGON showed up and literally roared a shower of flaming rocks from the sky! In the chaos, Ralof and I were able to escape Helgen, and I even got to crush that captain bitch's skull for good measure. I think that Ulfric guy was also able to get away, but I wasn't about to go back and check. I barely got out alive as is! Thankfully, Ralof's a pretty nice guy. He's letting me crash with him at his sister's place in a little village called Riverwood just north of Helgen. On the way, he told me about who he fought with: a rebellion called the Stormcloaks. Apparently, after the war my mother ran from, the Empire signed a deal with the Thalmor that pissed off every true-blooded Nord in Skyrim. Something about trying to erase our culture, beginning with the worship of Talos.
    I didn't understand most of what he said. So much of it was highly political. But what I did understand was this: The Empire is a sinking ship, and the Stormcloaks don't want Skyrim to go down with it. While that's a great cause, I have to focus on finding my father. I asked Ralof if he knew him, since the Stormcloaks are based in Windhelm. He didn't know the name exactly, but knew of an "Old Brev" that does things in the city that are sympathetic to the Stormcloak cause. Sounded like as good a lead as any.

For now, I shall rest for the night in the home of Ralof's sister Gerdur. She's a kind woman, and loyal to her family; even her brother. I wish I knew what that was like...