After several years, I was 23 years old and all by myself. Adrianne, Arcadia, and Sergius had taught me all they could. My siblings, still fighting in the war. And My parents on their fifth deathiversary. Life isn't going my way anymore. But I have enough money and experience to do anything at this point. So what do I do? This though rang through my head for several days, then weeks, maybe even a month. But eventually, I found an Idea, A SHOP! Of course! I can open my own Smithing Shop. But I don't even have a home. I should worry about that first.
I bought some land in Falkreath, and started to build my home, bit by bit. When I was building my home, and just stood up the walls, some nords came over and were acting all tough. As far as I can remember, they said things like, "Hey fuzzball, where is your caravan? Power in numbers aren't that important to you?" I ignored them. They didn't like that, "Oh, we got a stitch mouth here boys. Looks like he has a master. Looks like he's been a bad boy, maybe we should help him with his problems." They then started walking over to me and started to push me around. I didn't like it, but I didn't do anything in reaction to their actions. But that was about to change dramatically.
I thankfully had the blade my mother bestowed upon me. It was an Ebony Dagger. The blade was made out of pure ebony, sharpened to a legendary lethality, the hilt wrapped in leather strips from the pelt and leather from a Snow Bear. This blade was to be the legacy of my family. I am going to keep my journey going through the spirit of my mother. I felt her heart and soul in the blade itself, which seems a bit weird to say. But it was literally glowing. It was like her soul was bound to it.
One of them grabbed my head and said something very... uh... explicit... So I grabbed my dagger and stabbed him in the gut and mysteriously, I felt like I was given more power in sacrifice of his blood. He winced like a wounded Sabre Kitten too. The rest of them grabbed their weapons and was ready for my next action. I didn't move at all.
Then the leader swung his steel battleaxe and I dove out of the way and sliced his arm, again another feeling of power. The next one put his shield up and then tried to stab me, I hit the blade to the side but he did get the side of my leg. I did draw a few drops of blood, but then I stabbed him in his neck. He dropped to the floor with lifelessness. I then didn't feel any more pain, and I looked at my wound, it was healed, not fully, there was a scar, but otherwise, healed and the blade felt heavier when he died.
This blade has some sort of health absorption and soul trap enchantments. ENCHANTMENTS! My mother enchanted it! But how did she get her hands on either of these enchantments? Did she steal the weapons that had these powers? Nevermind that, I have to survive this attack. The fourth bandit came running over yelling with a battlecry and tried to power attack me. I felt a surge of adrenaline run through me and I smacked him with the dagger's pommel. He staggered, I then stabbed him in the top of his neck. He then fell lifeless and the scar disappeared into a healthy slab of flesh and fur.
the fight wasn't over, the leader got up and swung his battleaxe at me and he slipped and the axe hit me flat-like (Not the blade, but the wall). I fell over. I thought it was the end of it. But I remembered the words of my parent's right before they left to get the mammoth cheese: "Don't forget this Do'Karo; Never give up, we as a family never give up on eachother or anything else. We keep going until we can't, even then, we keep going." I remembered this and before I knew what had happened, the bandit leader was right above me and was about to swing his axe downwards onto my head.
But I couldn't die here, No way, No how. I felt another surge of adrenaline. I grabbed the dagger and went under his legs and through the other end. I stood up and sliced his arms. He dropped his axe I grabbed the axe and threw it away. I stabbed each of his legs. He dropped but didn't die, yet. My how the tables have turned. "Any last words?" I said with a response of his silence. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? What happened to being a big, tough nord? Does that matter now? No, it doesn't." He was hyperventilating, I let him suffer. I made him look at me until he tasted the sweet juices of misery and then the satisfaction of death.