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I am Freystein Gaefumathr, and the thing you must know about me, milk-drinker, is that I am not from these lands. I am no Nord.
I am a vikingr and it all began when I sailed with Thorfinn Karlsefni to conquer Vinland. We knew nothing of Skyrim, or Tamriel, or Nirn, only that Leif Erickson had found a rich land to the west.
We sailed with five ships, 160 warriors. At first all went well. We made landfall in a fruitful place, with a sweet stream, and began raiding the natives. They had no mail to oppose our swords and axes, no steel to break our shields. In time, more ships came, and we grew to 300 in number. Life was good, the winters mild.
But in the third year, a native shaman appeared before our walls, at the breaking of the mid-summer's dawn. He shouted and cursed and waved his arms about like a berserker in the battle rage. Our people grew anxious, until Gunnvid Haddson put an arrow between the shaman's eyes. We were much relieved to escape whatever foul curse was being worked... until the next day's dinner when Gunnvid vanished mid quaff in the meadhall. One moment he was there; next, his drinking horn clattered down to the floor and Gunnvid was not to be found.
Three more of our company disappeared, in plain sight, before the real panic set in. What foul magic was this? We went out and slaughtered the nearest four native villages, hoping to find the witches responsible. We did not want to think that the shaman we killed may have completed his curse after all.
After the 20th disappearance, Thorfinn took 90 men and three ships in the night, burning the rest on the beaches. The natives began raiding us, almost daily. Our coats of mail and shields protected us well behind our walls, but the occassional arrow would find its mark. When we would charge out to fight them like men, they faded into the woods. And every day someone vanished.
Soon only Eindridi and I were left. The natives had left us alone for a fortnight, they seemed to know we were no more threat. Eindridi said it would be shameful to vanish and leave all the fine mead for the savages - so we tried to drink it all. He vanished sometime while I was passed out. I woke up alone with a pounding head. Or... I thought I was alone, until the Dragon-Man spoke, "I did not think to find one of my children in this world."
I cleared my eyes and looked at him. He had the body of a man and the head of a dragon. I was still drunk, clearly.
The Dragon-Man suddenly looked to his left and said, "You may not have this one, for he is one of mine."
I looked to see who was being spoken to and found a white haired man with a cane, sitting cross legged on the floor, leaning back against a pillar. He spoke, "Oh ho! One of yours!? Here? And a Northman, at that... my, my,... Hircine won't like that, you know he has his claws into these people, deep. Much too dangerous for me, personally, after all, we're not supposed to be here at all, you KNOW how Jehovah can get when we intrude and I'd rather not run into Vishnu again, either. Still... the locals called me and I promised them I'd take care of their little white man problem. It was fun, making them crazy with fear, but these last few were just so boringly resigned. Still, he can't stay here, you know."
Dragon-Man looked back at me and tilted his head, "You shouldn't be here."
"That's what I've been saying!" Cane-Man interjected, "and they call ME the crazy one... sheesh... that Warp in the West really messed you up didn't it, ol' Akky-baby?"
"Who are you people?" I managed to croak out, while Dragon-Man shot a glare at Cane-Man, but they didn't seem to notice me.
Dragon-Man looked my way again and suddenly seemed to grow taller as he said, "You should be in Skyrim. When you awaken, walk to the North. You must find your own way after that," and then added under his breathe, "Kyne won't let me hear the end of this."
Cane-Man let out a mighty guffaw, and I just had time to see Dragon-Man begin to glow brightly before I passed out again.
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