http://www.gamesas.com/index.php?/topic/1233208-the-vipers-neck/- Hyperlink
http://www.gamesas.com/index.php?/topic/1239466-rashir-nashida/page__pid__18785089#entry18785089-Hyperlink
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Days in Skyrim have become years, from those simple moments of trying to escape this cold and fridged world, to the cold hard reality of a bitter drink. The days have gone by and my job seems stale; my purpose has seemed to have weakened as well. I find myself more and more hypocritical as I age and the years go by. I use to curse the Nord's of their racism, yet look at me Dunmer wife with a Dunmer child. My daughter is a disappointment in my eyes. She will never understand the harshness of the world. Instead she lives in the bliss I have made for her. Isn't that what parents should want though? Their children to never have to live the harshness of the world that bitterly fights against them. I truly didn't want a daughter. At least with a son I would have been able to confine my secrets. Instead I must treat my daughter as a daughter and a son. I don't think Yala appreciates it much. She thinks I have lost touch to the world, so does her mother, but I know my reasonings and I know my goals. I think back on it now in these clear drunken hazes and I wonder how I survived that day. My body scared with the wounds of the Viper's Neck. That sword, that ghostly sword haunts my waking life as well as my slumbering life. I dream and day dream about it.
But it's hidden from me. In the catacombs of the Dark Brotherhood, my brother lies in shadows and darkness keeping the family sword away from me. It is not a sword on my mother's side, but a sword on my father's side. It's meant for a son. But not just any son, a son who has worked hard, a son who knows hard work, and a son who doesn't disgrace the family name. My younger brother is a criminal, a murder. He disgraces the family's name with petty crime and murder. Murder of nobles and murder of the weak. He kills with no intention of repenting for his sins. And yet the sword is with him, at his side, hidden in the lost catacombs of the Black Brotherhood. Where he hides like a coward.
Then again I too am a coward. I hide behind the power of the Imperials. I protect my Empire, the people of this Empire, and I protect my Emperor and his queen in return my reward is power. Power I can use in whichever way I want. Power I can ue against those who go against me. Power that I can use to intimidate and change the world with. I'm a coward because I hide behind the Imperials whom treat me like a dog. I'm their Dunmer dog who performs tricks for them, bow wow wow.
"Father," my daughter came to me today.
I only replied with a solemn glance.
"Are you and mom my only family?"
I told her yes. How else was I to respond? Was I to tell her that her grandmother was a Graverobber and a petty thief. My mother tried to justify her actions by stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. It still made it thievry, it still made her a criminal. My father was a blacksmith in Skyrim, but I wouldn't have my Yala going to him asking questions. Her uncle is a murder, a criminal, and a thief he stole the Viper's Neck from me and kept it hidden from my grasp. For all I was concerned, I rather have Yala know me and her mother than the rest of the family. I held a bitter grudge towards them. I suppose now though I should stop muttering and rambling awkward thoughts down unto parchment and take my time to sleep. My wife has tucked in Yala, but no longer waits for me to come to bed. Either I'm out on watch or at this chair muttering through the days thoughts drinking a cold hard Nordic brew.