It was a dark night in the skies of Tamriel, and not much had been going on. Most of the children and adults were asleep, shops had been closed, and guards bunched toward the castle. The castle hadn't been so quiet, for Hoag Stormcloak was about to have a son. He had awaited in the main hall while his wife was giving birth, for he did not like to see such things. A guard had walked to the throne with a cloth-wrapped baby i has arms. The child had been handed to Hoag, whom had been happy at the birth of his new child. He had shouted: "I shall name him Ulfric!" The happiness had had only ;asked for but a moment, only to hear of his wife's death. While he had to grieve for the loss of his beloved wife, he had a son in his arms, and couldn't help but to feel happy. The two had a long day ahead of them, for tomorrow brought a celebration that only the most royal of weddings could compare to. One of the gifts that Ulfric had received was a small sword made of wood. This would lead him into a life of war.

Years had passed, and Ulfric had become more of a king by the minute. Ulfric was ten, and old enough to handle steel weapons. He had dummies of straw tied to a wall in his room, to which he endlessly stricken with his sword. The amount of dummies that had been broken by Ulfric disturbed the guards, to the point where one of them had to come forward to the king about the matter. “Your majesty?” The guard had nervously replied. “Your son seems to be breaking an awful lot of dummies. It’s scaring some of the townspeople.” The king had given him a glare at first, but then had returned to a lighthearted face, laughing. “It’s no big matter! He is my son, after all!” The guard had walked away, terrified. Besides occasional fighting, Ulfric was going to have one glorious life ahead of him.

Ulfric had lived a fairly peaceful life inside the castle walls of Windhelm. Lest the matter be important, no one had disturbed him. His love for combat had ended, mainly for a school that he had to attend. It didn’t really teach him anything important about combat or war, but Hoag had insisted that he had to learn. He had wound up cutting anybody that had gotten in his way with a dagger, and had to be removed from school. One day, Ulfric was reading a book about the legends of the land, only to be interrupted by a guard barging in through his door. “This has better be worth my time!” Ulfric had shouted at him, accompanied by a menacing glare. “I’m sorry Prince Ulfric, but your father had requested that you be escorted to a camp that he is residing in.” “Very well. Take me to him.” Ulfric had replied to the guard. Upon arriving at the camp, Ulfric had been shocked at how many guards there had been there. Upon passing through, he was taken straight to his father, Hoag. “My son! I hope that the trip here wasn’t too difficult. However, there is something that I must ask of you.” “Ok Father, what is it that you request?” “My son, I need you to fight with me.” Ulfric’s face had gone pale, for he had forgotten how to fight in his studies. “Father, I do not know how to fight, it has been quite a long time since I’ve last fought.” Hoag had laughed, and began to train his son. Little did Hoag know, he was training a new king

Training was a lot harder than it had originally sounded to Ulfric. He had only thought it had been brushing up on some basic skills, but he had been off by a long shot. Many days he would have to return to the castle, scarred and weak after vigorous sword fighting, which had gone on for hours on end. The training had gone on for weeks, despite it feeling as if months had passed during the course of his training. He had finished, but only to see a tragic sight. His father had started to feel weak, and was unable to command the Stormcloaks. During the time of Ulfric’s command, something tragic had happened to him. During a fight, a fellow soldier had yanked him down to take cover, and had to inform him. “Sir I regret to inform you this, but your father has died.” Ulfric’s face had gone blank, and it almost seemed as if everything around him had slowed down. One thing had been made very clear when he had entered this mental state: The imperials were going to die. He had charged into the field, tearing through hoards of soldiers, cutting every last one of them down with a single swipe of his blade. Despite the amount of opposing soldiers appeared to be seemingly endless, Ulfric had spotted the Imperial fortress nearby. He had killed a few more men, and then charged his way inside.............

Upon charging into the Imperial fortress, Ulfric and his troops had gone ballistic. Other than fellow Stormcloaks, no one had actually left the building alive. While one could not count the amount of near unlimited death, it could have been estimated that the death tolls were in the thousands. The Stormcloaks had made it past the pathetic excuse for Imperial guard, they had traveled to the main castle. It had been surrounded in mere seconds by Stormcloaks, which had made some of the important imperials fear for their lives. They had bursted into the main room, which had the Imperials main commander in there: Tullius. Poor man had been beaten to a pulp, bleeding heavily from his face, and stab wounds in his chest. Thinking that he could end the fighting he had choked out: “No matter how many situations you end up in like this, they will all end the samewith endless conflict, and far too much death and tragedy.” Ulfric had just seen this as some worthless last words, and had cut down Tullius without a second thought. And with that final blow, the Imperials had been finished, and the war had been won........

Besides the take over of the Imperial City, there had been celebration in Windhelm for years. For once, everything had become what no one could have thought a war-ravaged kingdom like Tamriel could be: Peaceful. For years, there had been seemingly no conflict between anything in Tamriel. Even the smallest of fights could have been thwarted immediately. As for Ulfric, he was not really enjoying how Tamriel had turned out, being War-free. While he had definitely thought that no conflict and death was a good thing, he had tired of this far too peaceful life. He had sat on the throne for what had seemed to be endless days, waiting for a conflict to come and present itself to Tamriel. While still keeping the peace, Ulfric had resolved to picking fights with the less powerful cities, which didn’t really put up much of a fight at all. He had continued to do this for a while, and some of them had even been entertaining. However, Ulfric had not yet realized that one of these small places would nearly be the end of him...................

Over the course of the next few months, Ulfric had noticed something exciting: his opponents were getting stronger. He was practically itching to fight his much-stronger opponents, and had hundreds of soldiers at the ready all day and night. He had started to fight some of the stronger opponents, only to be very dissatisfied with the end result. They had been putting up a good fight, that had been more than obvious. And yet, they had lost most of the time. This just made Ulfric want more of a challenge, which caused even more war. It had almost seemed to him that a tough, and great fight just wasn’t going to come along anytime soon. He had been looking at who was actually left, and questioned himself if they were up to the challenge.....

Ulfric had made up his mind, and challenged a relatively small group. There had been a famous clan of fighters called Clan Wolf-Mane. They had been in Tamriel for some time, but Ulfric had never actually met them. He had known that they were very skilled warriors, despite being only a mere few of them in the group. He had held a meeting with his top-ranking soldiers, of whom had helped Ulfric win some of the many battles that he had fought. After everything in the meeting was said and done, Ulfric had decided to attack Clan Wolf-Mane. He had sent a large group of roughly 300 soldiers to their main base, and waited. For nearly a few weeks, Ulfric had heard nothing about the fight, and was wondering to himself that his soldiers had gone elsewhere. One day, a soldier had burst into his castle, leaning on the wall and heaving for breath. “Oh? What is your purpose here, soldier.” “Sir, hundreds of people had died at that battle, and few had made it out alive.” Ulfric had gone pale. Never had he ever lost a battle in his entire life, only to hear this news of a defeat. He had talked to the remaining survivors, saying that they had seen a wolf-like creature that had killed many of his men. Shocked and intrigued, Ulfric had planned a revolt against the Wolf-Manes. Little did he know, this was not going to go as on could expect...............