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Some call him the crimson warrior, others bloodborn. his name, unknown. his goal, the destruction of abominations.

The sun light glazed the northern shore, basking it in a brilliant glow of warmth. The scene that afternoon would have been perfect save for the scarlet figure wandering the shore. He paused his pacing to greet a fur-clad hunter.

"What is it, boy? Why do you approach me?"

"Pardon me sir, but the Pale Watchman asks an audience with you."

The Crimson warrior seemed to recoil. The Pale watchman was a legend among the people of the Pale. He slays all who oppose the Pale and its folk, and is said that he is one of the wises minds in all of Skyrim. Maybe he can answer these troublesome rumors of a Dire. "How may I might I find him?"

"He said that he can be found at Candlehearth Hall in Windhelm. He will find you there."

"Very well I shall see him in one weeks time."

The Crimson Warrior wandered his way from the shore into the mountains with troublesome thoughts on his mind.

With in two days of hiking the warrior stood atop Halvisk Peak and gazed upon the bustling city of Solitude. Stripping his armor off, and carefully storing it in his pack, Xanthor Coal-Mane made his way down to the metropolis. Half way down the mount he stopped, a ravaged corpse lay on the side of the road. Xanthor gazed into it's empty eyes, searching for a hint of crimson. The had turn blood red, the corpse had been striped of it's soul, by a Dire.

So the rumors are true. 

To be continued...