Over three years have passed since the orcish invaders were defeated. Three years since I became the Jarl of Whiterun, and while some folk have moved on the place remains the same. I guess my skills as El Presidente were pretty good! The peace was soon to be broken when a familiar face arrived in town, my old Argonian buddy Derkeethus who brought news of Thalmor incursions in the region, as well as a letter requesting my help in finding someone's missing brother at some forgotten ruins.
My cold-blooded ally.
I barely glanced at the letter, furious at the mere mention of the Thalmor. Without hesitation Derkeethus and I headed off towards Dragon's Bridge, finding a quaint little cottage called Nerelia house on the way that wasn't there before. A cursory examination showed the place was uninhabited apart from the red-eyed black horse named Red Shadow, whom I took as my own. I am the Jarl after all.
And who are you?
Soon after we arrived at the Dragon's Bridge hamlet and sure enough, a contingent of Thalmor had set up shop in the town. Unaware of who I was, they let me scout their positions out easily which made it all the easier to violently shank them all in the back, like a true hero.