User blog:DB Baxter/Song of the Dishonored

Despite all my success, it still haunts me.

I was a young and ignorant Orc. I was also a desperate Orc. Our stronghold had just been raided by bandits, and our home was completely destroyed. We were left homeless, wandering across the land and looking for a new home. We found a place to settle and rebuild, but we had no materials or septims to do so. We seemed to have ran out of options... until I was approached with an opportunity.

Some sleazeball Khajiit came up to me, in need of an enforcer. I hated the look of him. I hated the atmosphere around him. I hated the way he talked. But the man paid well. Extremely well. I couldn't refuse. The money he offered me would help us build a new home.

Everything went smooth for a while. I kept the slimy bastard safe, he paid me for it, and I put it towards rebuilding our stronghold. But then the day came. The day the asshole showed up at our stronghold with an empty bottle of mead in one hand and demanding to see me. That's when my deeds were told to the group. That's when they banished me from the village. That's also when I cleaved the cats head off when we were out of site.

The mercenary business, however, has proven fruitful. I've made a good amount of money and have gained quite the reputation. But even still, the memory of my friends and family casting me out like I was a vile dog is burned in my conscious. Now, I wish for nothing more than to redeem myself. I wish to find a worthy opponent to fight. His death or mine will grant me the restoration of my honor. Sadly, I have yet to find one. But I will continue to search until I'm too old to walk.

Rest assured, I will find one.