Chapter I: A Thread Woven
"Deep within the Great Forest the moon shines bright on a mold ridden, dark, old shack. Within this shack sits a man driven by fear across the lands we call Cyrodill. "Hmm?...W-was that?No?No. Just my imagination?" An old Dunmer sat on a rickety and battered stool, clutching a dwindling candle, and whispering empty assurances to himself. As paranoia's grip slowly wrapped itself around the Dark Elf's senses every creak, every gust, every scratch of from a tree limb, forced the frightened old Elf to jump despite his constant assurances. But this timid and tortured creature is unaware of his presence, oblivious to the danger, of the one known as..."
Kaden would take the moment of suspense to take his final gulp of ale. Slamming the empty tankard on the bar table the Redguard looked out into the cramped room. His eyes moving slowly from left to right surveying his audience, which consisted mostly of the tavern regulars, and grinned. "Well my tankard is empty and my voice grows hoarse, so gentlemen I bid you all good night."
Angry and annoyed voices cried out from the crowd. "What! You canna end now!"One portly, white haired Nord cried. "Whoa, hey now, settle down gents. If you truly enjoyed my tale come back tomorrow." The crowd hesitantly dispersed around the bar, but not without a few drunken patrons tossing a few choice words at Kaden, who merely shrugged them off, and walked up to his room. Considering the many Nords in the inn he was lucky that was all they threw.
The room in which Kaden stayed was much like the inn; dirty and smelled of vomit. But Kaden simply didn't care. His first story in this inn and he had already captured quite a crowd. So a little stench was worth the promise of tips. Kaden stumbled onto the bedroll and slipped into sleep. The Drunken Dragon was indeed all that was promised.