Dearest Skyrim,
This one has spent the last several weeks traversing your jagged terrain. I have endured the fiercest blizzards and the most torrential rainstorms, and have found that Khajiit's fur protects him from all.
Maybe living in such a place for so long has damaged your brain... like too much skooma. No matter my accomplishments or accolades, Khajiit is constantly berated for being Khajiit. My brothers and sisters who left the warm sands of Elsweyr to sell their wares in this land are not even allowed in your cities. This one has even found his kin slain and decorating the floors of bandit hideouts. Every Nord, from Jarl to beggar to bandit detests this one. I fear this feeling may be... mutual now.
Your people are violent and racist, and must be stopped. Murder is wrong, but were you to have your way, this one and any living soul not a Nord would be run out of the province or run through with a blade... Khajiit will not let this stand.
I have penned this letter as a formal declaration of invasion, and a small warning to make peace with whatever gods you follow. Soon, this one will return home and muster an army to march on this cold land, a land as cold as the hearts that beat in the breasts of its people. We will rid Tamriel of your taint and bigotry, and make this land ours. (Have you pounced through snow before? It is quite invigorating.)
Perhaps we will bring slavery here, as well, so the Nord highborn can finally get a taste of what has been Khajitt's lot in life for so long... and after Skyrim has been introduced to and ground under this one's hindpaw, we will poke Morrowind with an ebony arrow or a thousand, and liberate the Khajiit enslaved there... hm, we shall see, won't we? :3
In closing, this one pities the Nords. You really should know better than to kick a cat. Especially one as tall as you... wielding blades in lieu of claws... clad in armor, protecting him from what his fur will not.
Your past victim and future bane,
Sev'rr