12 Sun's Height, 4E 200
The 'city of stone', an impenetrable fortress. At least, the guards would have you think that.
If anything was out of line in Markarth, a guard would be there to cover it up. Paid by the
richest to conceal any mishap to the public that may cause them issues in the future.
To be honest, it sickens me. But, I digress; I believe an introduction is in order. My name
is Brutus Vlindrel, decendant of the great Sir Berich Vlindrel of the Knights of the Nine.
I have lived in the city of Markarth for 7 years prior to now, though that was long ago. You
see, when you encountered such trauma as I have, you tend to avoid the site of said trauma,
for fear of rekindling the fire, so to speak. I will detail this in a later memoir.
I am writing these memoirs for I am currently being pursued by the Thalmor, no doubt they
will burn my writings, as they burn anything else that opposes them. These memoirs will
detail my life until the present, telling the true story of the Vlindrels. I fear I may not have
much time left to live, but if these pages are found untouched, then I beg of you, dear
reader, to tell my story and find my sister. She is all I had left, and they took her away.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Welcome to the story of Brutus Vlindrel, a scarred swordsman from the ruined Vlindrel family.
This is a tale of vengeance and conspiracies, inspired by my current (and hopefully long-lived) Skyrim character of the same name.
As this is my first addition to the Story Corner, feel free to criticize my work. I will upload as often as possible.
Prologue:
Chapter 1: Briarheart
Chapter 2: Frostmoon
12 Sun's Height, 4E 200
The 'city of stone', an impenetrable fortress. At least, the guards would have you think that.
If anything was out of line in Markarth, a guard would be there to cover it up. Paid by the
richest to conceal any mishap to the public that may cause them issues in the future.
To be honest, it sickens me. But, I digress; I believe an introduction is in order. My name
is Brutus Vlindrel, decendant of the great Sir Berich Vlindrel of the Knights of the Nine.
I have lived in the city of Markarth for 7 years prior to now, though that was long ago. You
see, when you encountered such trauma as I have, you tend to avoid the site of said trauma,
for fear of rekindling the fire, so to speak. I will detail this in a later memoir.
I am writing these memoirs for I am currently being pursued by the Thalmor, no doubt they
will burn my writings, as they burn anything else that opposes them. These memoirs will
detail my life until the present, telling the true story of the Vlindrels. I fear I may not have
much time left to live, but if these pages are found untouched, then I beg of you, dear
reader, to tell my story and find my sister. She is all I had left, and they took her away.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Welcome to the story of Brutus Vlindrel, a scarred swordsman from the ruined Vlindrel family.
This is a tale of vengeance and conspiracies, inspired by my current (and hopefully long-lived) Skyrim character of the same name.
As this is my first addition to the Story Corner, feel free to criticize my work. I will upload as often as possible.
Prologue:
Chapter 1: Briarheart
Chapter 2: Frostmoon
