Well MY High Elf is called Phedher, named after my World of Warcraft Blood Elf mage, who killed her own twin brother several times, then married him under a disguise, then had a bunch of children with him, ate them to transform into a blood elemental, then killed him again, then got captured by him and got turned into his swords, then fell in love with him and is currently pregnant with a new child whom she doesn't plan on eating this time.
But that's a story for another time.
"I'm the fucking Dragonborn, I beat the shit out of dragons for fun and it's a good thing they respawn, otherwise I'd be out of a job. If you're about to attack me, you might want to consider that I can just yell at you and you'll get splattered on a wall; alternatively, I will bludgeon you to death with this here Mace of Molag Bal..."
"Wait, you have the Mace of Molag Bal?" said Lydia, visibly shocked.
Phedher turned to her companion, bending her arms at the hip, palms facing up as if to say "what the fuck are you doing", which was exactly what she was thinking.
"You... you made a deal with a Daedric Prince?"
"Are you high?" The Dragonborn leaned in to check her fellow's pupils, but then she realized it was no use, for she seemed terrified out of her mind at the idea of wielding such an unholy artefact. "It's just a fucking mace, Lydia, get over it, it's not like I eat children or something, Jesus Christ."
"W-what..."
"Yeah, anyway, what was I saying?"
The sweaty Nord at the top was keeping up his toothless, dumb, annoying grin.
"I think you were about to give us all of your money and get on your knees so we can carve your pretty little neck, Dragonborn!" The last word was uttered in an exaggerated tone, meant to mock her, Phedher thought. The other bandits laughed at their leader's jest, while playing with their rusty blades to show them off. Most of the swords looked ready to break if one were to so much as step on them by accident and all the daggers were right blunt. This was no challenge.
"Look, I don't wanna slaughter you..."
"Ha ha ha ha ha, slaughter us? Lady, you can barely stand up by the looks of it." It was true. Daylight was seeping deep into her flesh, burning her at the core. "You're funny, aren't you? Not too bad looking, either. I'll make you a deal. You drop all your weapons and armour right now and we only kill your friend... and I keep you for entertainment."
The Nord's mouth burst into a shower of spit with every word he spoke and she could feel it dropping on her yellow skin. She let her head hang forward for two seconds and shook it left and right. "Whatever..." she whispered and immediately charged the bandits that were at the base of the half-collapsed stone tower, all the while shouting "I TRIED, LYDIA! YOU CAN'T SAY I DIDN'T TRY!" The first two took three hits each to die and their blades broke her skin deep enough that blood flew out of her. The rest weren't so lucky. Once she was in the shade, she swatted them like flies before they could even feel the blow of her weapons. She scaled the stairs up to the top, where the toothless Nord looked just about ready to shit himself.
"Spare me, spare me..." he muttered, his sword trembling in front of his face, until he saw it and dropped it to the ground like it were some sort of slithering venomous critter aiming to pierce his veins and end him. She grabbed her mighty, dark bow and pulled back as far as her arm could pull, a black arrow with gray feathers at the fletchings and the tip coated in dried up blood, pointing it straight to his left eye. "Look, I dropped it, I dropped it! Spare me, I was going to spare you, right!? I was going to spare you! Have pity..."
She rose her arm, letting the arrow fly straight up. She took off her helmet to reveal her once beautiful Altmer face, now starved and tired looking.
"Thank The Eight..." sighed the toothless Nord.
She began to unwrap her armour, leaving herself covered in no more than rugs.
The stupid grin returned to his mouth.
"Well, well, it seems The Eight truly favour me today. A moment ago you were about to pierce my skull and now you want me to pierce you, ay? Can't say no to..." But his words were cut short.
There was a thunder in the distance and suddenly the day got dark. He looked up to the sun, but couldn't find it. He looked back down and neither could he find the pretty Altmer girl. In her place stood a tall, blue beast, with the face and wings of a bat and claws as long and sharp as an ebony dagger. She merely gestured with her hand and the Nord's blood quickly came streaming out of him to feed her.
"Hey! Hey, Lydia! What are you looking at?" Phedher said calmly, snapping her fingers next to her housecarl's ear. She gazed into her elven eyes for just a second before turning to look back at the blackened sun that had engulfed the skies in rays of crimson darkness.
"The... the..."
"Yeah. OK. Look, you seem a little tired, maybe you just spent too much time in the sun or something, so why don't you head back home! I can brave the wilds on my own for a while." The thought seem to wash off some of the dismay as Lydia looked back at the Dragonborn, not yet free of confusion. "Come on, help me put my armour back on." she said as she walked near the tower to sit down.
"Huh? Why'd you take it off?"
"It was getting too tight. After we're done with that, just gather up all the swords that still look like they can cut bread and take 'em with you, put 'em in the box upstairs."
"I, uh... I am sworn to..."
"... to carry my burdens, yeah, I know, you don't have to say it every time, Jesus Christ..."
"What is that?"
"What?"
"That thing you keep saying... Jesus Christ?"
"Oh, it's some guy from another world, I'm just breaking the fourth wall, don't worry about it."
"The fourth... Right... I think you're the one who's spent too much time in the sun!"
"You have no idea..."