A Life, Forgotten, The Tale of an Amnesiac Bosmer in Skyrim Options

[Kane]

This story began as a Dead is Dead tale, but I decided to continue it after it was cut short in Treva's Watch. It's also the first story I continuously wrote, so apologies if my writing skills are a bit lacking.

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Introduction

Khalor awoke to a splitting headache that was not helped by the jostling of whatever wagon he was on. He opened his eyes to find a blonde man staring at him expectantly. Ralof, was his name, as Khalor would come to find out. He began to speak, but Khalor tuned him and the others out, for the rest of the ride. He was trying to remember something....anything. It wasn't long, though, before the wagon came to a halt in a small town, at the base of a tower.

It seemed that he was headed to the execution block, for reasons he didn't even know.

Entry #1

"You were found on the side of the road, with a bounty notice pinned to your tunic, and that lovely gash on the back of your head", said Ralof.

That would explain why I have no memory, thought Khalor, as he jogged behind him.

"So, what are you anyway? Some kind of thief or bandit? he asked.
"I wish I knew. I can't remember anything before waking up in that damned wagon. All I get are flashes", said Khalor.
"Really? That must have been some blow to the head! We should make for Riverwood. I have family there that can help us lay low, for a while", said Ralof. "And then we can return to Windhelm. Ulfric could use a man like yourself. You seem to be no stranger to combat!"
"No thanks", replied Khalor. "The only thing I care about right now is finding a way to recover my memories. All I know so far, is that I'm a wood elf. I don't even know where I pulled the name 'Khalor' from. It was just the first thing that crept into my mind."
"Alright, then", sighed Ralof. "It's probably best if we split up. Good luck. I wouldn't have made it without your help today."

Khalor trudged on ahead, leaving Ralof to find his own way. As he continued on down the road, he came to split and took the west road toward a town called Falkreath.

To hell if I go anywhere near Riverwood, he thought inwardly.

Seeing smoke rise above the trees, he veered off the road, and up a small dirt path. Hearing voices, Khalor crouched down and strained his ears. Brigands, it sounded like....

He quickly dispatched all three with the bow he found in the keep. He definitely had some kind of affinity with a bow and utilizing stealth. Khalor pondered on that, while he went through the camp looking for valuables. He stopped halfway through, wondering why he was raiding all this junk. Deeply troubled, he got back on the road toward Falkreath. The rest of his trip was uneventful, and as he walked into Falkreath, he made his way right to the inn for a drink.

With the meager amount of gold he raided from the bandit camp, he bought himself dinner and a mead.

"Where can I find a healer?", he asked the inkeeper. "I was attacked and hit over the head, and now I have no memories from before this morning."
"Oh my, that's awful", said Valga. "Your best bet would be the College of Winterhold. But that's a long and dangerous journey. Especially if you have no idea where to go or what to expect."

Troubled by that, and the fact that he spent all his gold on food, Khalor left the inn to wander the town. After selling some weapons and armors he took from the bandits, he ventured into the Jarl's hall to pay his respects. He was greeted by a beautiful elf named Nenya, and told he may approach the Jarl. On the way back out he pulled her aside.

"I'd like to buy you a drink, miss", said Khalor boldly. "I'm a sucker for a pretty face, and yours is about as fair as I have ever seen!"
Nenya blushed, and with the smallest hint of a smile replied, "We'll see."
"You can find me at the inn, miss. I have a room rented, while I'm in town."

As he exited the longhouse, he wandered where that charm had suddenly sprung up from.

I'm going to have no shortage of these questions, he surmised.

Entry #2

Khalor walked in the door of the Dead Man's Drink and made right for the bar. Sliding up on a stool, he asked Valga some more questions about this college she had mentioned, and what made the journey dangerous.


"Mostly, its the terrain, " she said with a grimace. "The northern fringes of Skyrim are cold and treacherous. The gales that come in off the Sea of Ghosts breed near constant snowfall, and the cold bites right to the bone. You need to learn how to survive the cold, before you can even think of setting out into it."

"Well, that certainly isn't ideal," said Khalor. "Do I have any other options?"

"Hmmm...you could try Solitude. And if there's no help to be found there, you could at least take a carriage to Winterhold, rather than make the trek on foot."

She marked down Solitude on Khalor's map and have him some brief directions on how to get there.
This looks like an easy enough journey, he thought.


"Ok, on to the more important matter, Valga.... what is the finest bottle of spirits that you have?'' asked Khalor. "I am hoping that a fair maiden will meet me for a drink tonight, and no offense, but this Nord mead is pigswill."

"You can never go wrong with Argonian Bloodwine," said Valga, as she pulled the blue bottle out from under the bar. "If you have the Septims for it that is. Good luck."


As she went to help out another patron, Khalor got up and found a nice chair in the corner to sit at. It was the first time since Helgen that he was able to sit and think in silence. He began racking his brain, trying to remember anything from before he woke up in that cart. But, there was nothing. All he had is his wits and instincts. It would have to be enough.

The hours passed and he had almost given it up and gone to bed, when the door opened and in stepped Nenya. As beautiful as the day is long, he remarked to himself. She spotted him in the corner and came to sit in the chair next to him. Khalor found that he was not nervous at all and the two elves made conversation easily. When it came around to who he was and why he was there, Nenya also seemed genuinely concerned for him.


"You remember nothing from before today?"

"Not a thing," said Khalor. "I have no idea who I am, or what I was. The only thing that stands out to me is this odd marking on my wrist. It almost seems like a brand..."


He showed her the mark in question. It had a reddish hue to it, and appeared to be some kind of ambigram with
the letters 'M' and 'W' overlapping. Nenya grabbed his wrist to study it...


Her face paled. "You need to leave. Now."

"I.....what?" said a dumbstruck Khalor.

"Leave. Before I call the guards. I won't warn you again."


Confused, Khalor grabbed his meager belongings and left the inn. As he walked out the door, he ran right into a guard, lost his balance, and almost fell over the railing.


"Whoa, elf!" said the guard, and as he grabbed Khalor to steady him, he saw the mark on his wrist. "By the Nine! You are coming with me brigand. We have a special place in the dungeons for your kind."


Khalor's mind began racing in the confusion, and without haste, he pulled out his dagger and plunged it right into the guards gut. The guard fell to the floor without a sound, and aghast at what he had just done, Khalor took off into the night. He ran as fast as he could, and when he heard the other guards shouting, he spurred himself on even more.

But, he could here them gaining. Spotting a small copse just off the road, he darted into it and buried himself in the loam.

He laid there, for what felt like hours, straining his ears and listening for nearby commotion. After a period of silence, he relaxed, and fell into an uneasy sleep. He awoke in the morning to the realization that he was completely lost. He made his way back to the road and headed east, away from Falkreath, and everything that happened there. He looked at the dried blood on his hand and the strange mark, and wondered for what seemed like the thousandth time, who the hell he was.

Khalor felt nothing but remorse for what happened, and he wasn't even sure why it happened. His instincts had just taken over, but where did THAT particular brand of instincts even come from? As he walked, he reflected on what he knew, and decided that he would still try and make the journey to Winterhold, risk be damned. The sun set quickly as he marched on, and soon he was walking down a mountain path in the moonlit snow.

Stumbling through the darkness that opened up as he came down the mountain, a sliver of moonlight allowed him to glimpse a structure, just off the road. He made his way into it and crashed into the bed, exhausted.

Entry #3

After a fitful night of rest, Khalor awoke to the sounds of birds chirping and insects buzzing. He roused himself from his borrowed bed and took stock of his surroundings. It seemed that had stumbled into a small shack that, by the look of things, was home to an alchemist of some sort. There were various ingredients lying around, and even a strange jar with a bug hovering inside of it.

Feeling the need to stretch his legs, he got up off the bed and walked out into the back garden. It was a small enclosure with a few uncommon plants and a brewing station. The location was absolutely perfect, situated in the woods just off the roads, right in the shadow of the great mountain. The woods were brimming with wildlife and the flora was the lushest that Khalor had seen in this cold, hard land. This could be home, he thought to himself.

Heading back inside, he found a journal on the night stand. It was covered in dust and it's contents indicated that the shack's owner had left for ingredients some time ago, and not returned.

Well, it looks like this IS my new home, thought Khalor.

After resting for a few days, Khalor ventured down the road to see what he could make of the surrounding area. He noted an Imperial outpost, just off the road, down in the woods, and soon found himself in Ivarstead.


"What a quaint, little town", said Khalor, to nobody in particular.


Spotting the local inn, he made his way inside to see what this town was about. Khalor ordered an ale and asked the barkeep about some of the towns history. It seemed that it was just a small village for folk to rest at, before they head up the mountain.


"Riften would be your best bet, if your looking to trade or find carriage travel", said Wilhelm. "Cross the southern bridge and stay on the east road. You'll be following the lake's shoreline all the way to Riften. Be careful in that city, though. It's rife with corruption and thieves."


After Khalor finished his ale, he decided to head back to his cabin. Along the way he managed to bring down a deer to bolster his food supplies with. I'll have to dry out this venison, so that I can fit it in my pack, thought Khalor

A couple days later, he set off down the eastern road, bound for Riften. The sun was shining warmly as the morning mist began to dissipate. He couldn't help but admire the beauty of the Rift as he walked, and basked in it's beauty. The autumn season was truly a sight to behold, with the beautifully colored leaves still in the tress and strewn across the ground.

There did seem to be a lot of bears in the area, but Khalor knew that if he left them alone, they would leave him alone. It was a notion that didn't last very long, though. After a few hours march, a bear suddenly burst out of the undergrowth and charged at him. Under normal circumstances, Khalor would have stood his ground, but the noise from the encounter caught the ear of a nearby troll who decided to join in the fray.

This prompted Khalor to high tail it out of there, and when he came to a fork in the road, he saw the lake on his left and followed the road along side it. He seemed to have outran his fur clad foes, and as he slowed to a normal pace, he found a camp on the side of the road. Checking to see if anyone was around, he found a note on top of a barrel.

"Go to the island near the edge of the lake.
Look for where a great tree once stood.
That is where I buried it."

Pocketing the note, Khalor headed down to the shoreline. He spotted the treasure hunters just up the shore a ways, fighting each other over the contents of a chest. Deciding to not get involved, he headed back up to the road and continued on.

The sun was setting as Khalor came across a bridge, with another camp of some sort on the other side. There was a man sitting in the shadows on the road, that Khalor hadn't seen. When he spoke, Khalor nearly jumped out of his skin.


"Are they gone?" said the man. "Please help. I can pay you. Bandits attacked and ransacked my cart.... Can you help me?"....

Entry #4

"Who are you?"
"Telrav", replied the man on the ground.

Khalor studied his face. He seemed.... familiar somehow. Could this be somebody he knew of in the past? There was a decidedly uneasy feeling in his stomach as he brooded over this development.

"Where do you need to go?" asked Khalor.
"Nilheim. It's just across the bridge here. You can see the smoke from our fires, rising up over the trees."

Nilheim. Something else that seemed familiar, and Khalor's sense of foreboding grew. He decided against it. Khalor couldn't afford the risk anymore, especially after Falkreath.

"Sorry, but I haven't got the time. Here, take this healing potion. It should be enough to get you home."
"Thanks for nothing, you fetcher."

Khalor turned to continue back down the road when he saw Telrav's cart laying upended. He began to comb through it's contents to see if there was anything useful. It was mostly scraps and useless baubles, but he did manage to dig up a map of Skyrim from the bottom of a satchel. Examining the map, he realized that the troll and bear had chased him down the wrong road.

With a sigh, he turned back and began the long walk towards Riften.



The rest of his journey was uneventful, for a change. He stopped at a mill to rest and ended up promising to help the woman find her deadbeat husband. Khalor mostly walked in silence, brooding over his troubled mind and still trying to stir up his memories. As he approached Riften, he started to become a little more worried. What if word had spread from Falkreath? Holds don't take lightly to guards being murdered. He decided to rest outside and head into the town when night began to fall. Just to help avoid recognition.

Watching the sun set over the lake was a to sight to see. The golden sky reflected off of the lake as the sun sank behind the shadowy great mountain peak. Arising from his makeshift camp, Khalor made his way to the city gates.

"You need to use the north gate", said a guard, as Khalor approached.
"Why?"
"Because I said so. Now get out of here before I haul into the dungeons myself".

I'm going to hate this place, thought Khalor. Knowing the lake was on his left, he headed east around the city walls. If nothing else, it was a nice moonlit stroll through the woods. He was just rounding the corner of the northern wall when another guard spotted him.

"Hold up. If you want to enter the city, you need to pay the visitors tax."

So, that's the kind of city this is, thought Khalor. It seemed that extortion was the name of the game and that the whole city was likely to be corrupt. This annoyed Khalor, who was tired and hungry from all the walking.

"How about you open the gate for me, and I'll promise not to kill you where you stand."
"Whoa now! Easy there, elf. It was just a joke. I'll unlock the gate and you can go in when you're ready."

Khalor entered the city and headed across the footbridge to the inn. There seemed to be some a good bit of hustle and bustle going on between the patrons, but he wasn't interested and made straight for the bar. Ordering some food, he ate in silence and then rented a room for the night.



The next day, Khalor arose from bed and headed out into the market. He walked about cautiously, at first, but no one seemed to know who or what he was.. Feeling a little more at ease, he fended off the plot of some ne'er do well in the market and spoke to the smithy about using his forge. His bow needed some work, and Khalor decided that his clothes just weren't cutting it anymore. He used the hides he collected on his journey to Riften and smithed himself some basic leather armor and improved the fit to his liking.

Feeling his coinpurse had gotten a bit too light, he figured that the Jarl would probably have some work for him. Khalor entered the keep and approached the Jarl.

"Excuse me, milady. My name is Khalor and I'm new in town, just looking for some work."

Jarl Laila looked at him and immediately her expression turned to one of disgust. "You dare enter my city with such audacity, scum? Did you think we'd forgotten who you are? You filthy retches are all the same - dumb as the day is long. Guards! Take this scum down to the dungeons and see that he never leaves again...."

Entry #5

Khalor sat in his cell wondering how many days had passed. Or was it weeks? He had managed to slip one lockpick in with him, but he broke it and his only escape route on day one. So, he sat now in the silence of his cell and stared at the blank wall before him. Even with all the free time he had on his hands, Khalor still couldn't focus on anything from his past. It was maddening to the point of frustration.

The latest event didn't help his psyche at all, either. The look of thorough disgust on the Jarl's face shone like a bright light in his mind. Who was he really? Or more importantly.....what was he? Khalor decided to ponder on what he knew and how people reacted to him. After a few days of brooding, some of the puzzles pieces started to become clearer....

His thoughts were interrupted, however, when he heard a door open nearby and a lot of bustling around. Someone of importance must be nearby, though Khalor. Straining his neck to look down the hall, he was surprised to see the Jarl down here, of all places.

"I would speak with the elf. Now."
"Yes, milady. Right this way."

Uh oh. This can't be good.

"You. On your feet scum", said Jarl Laila. "Something has been troubling me... Why did you come back here?"
"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, miss," Khalor said, honestly. "As far as I know, this is my first visit to Riften."
"Don't play dumb with me, elf. You know damn well that you've been here before and what atrocities you helped to commit!"

Atrocities? This confirmed the picture that Khalor was starting to see.

"....The guard that brought me down here - he called me a brigand. And you, you've been calling me scum. This explains much," said Khalor.

Laila stared intently at him, apparently in deep thought. Khalor could practically see the smoke rising from her head.

"Hmmm. I thought as much. You really don't remember what you did, do you?"
"No, ma'am."

He explained to the Jarl what he knew and what had happened to him over the last month or so. It felt good to talk about it and seemed to make things even clearer. The Jarl confirmed his fears afterwards. He was a bandit. A bandit who had likely committed unspeakable acts of terror. The thought of it filled Khalor with terrible regret, and it seemed to show on his face.

"I'm surprised, elf. Whatever blow to the head you received not only seems to have erased your memory, but also seems to have knocked some sense into who you are as a person. I see the regret on your face and it is a definite improvement over the last time I saw you in my city. Is there anything else you wish to tell me?"

Khalor remained silent for a second. "Yes, there is, actually..." He told her about the incident in Falkreath and why he fled the hold.

"I see," said Laila. "Well, I'll send word to the Jarl of Falkreath that we have you, so that they can rest easy."

Khalor nodded. But he had one more question.

"Milady?"
"What is it, elf?"

He paused. Did he really want to know? Yes. He had to.

"You mentioned a few times that I had done something here, in Riften. What was it?"

She looked at him, with what seemed to be concern. "You were part of a bandit raid. Biggest one the city has seen in some time. It was a well coordinated attack and it very nearly overpowered us. The guards managed to rally and drive the raid back, but at great cost. Many soldiers were lost and a few citizens, as well."

"That can't be all of the story, can it?" said Khalor.
The Jarl replied, with a sigh, "No. It's not. You weren't just a pawn in the game....you appeared to be it's leader."

Entry #6

A few weeks had passed since recent revelations and Khalor was still stunned. He had worked out that he'd been some kind of brigand but..... the leader of an apparently powerful group? This was too much, and it sickened him to his very core to think of it. Khalor was definitely a changed man. There was no doubt about that anymore. All he need do now was fight those instincts that still cropped up on occasion.

So now, he knew what he was. Just not the why or the who. Or even the where, but that seemed to be the least important of the three. And what would the Jarl of Falkreath do? He would undoubtedly want Khalor executed for his crime. Would Laila have to oblige? She seemed to be a decent person but politics are a delicate matters.

His thoughts were disturbed by the sound of footsteps approaching. A guard appeared outside his cell.

"On your feet, elf. We're taking you on a field trip."
"Oh? Where to, then?" asked Khalor.
"The Jarl has requested your presence," said the guard as he shackled Khalor's hands together. "No funny business, or I'll run you through myself."

Khalor nodded, and they headed on their way. Winding there way up through the tower, the thoughts began pouring in again. What was this about? Would he be sent to Falkreath? Or perhaps to the Riften gallows.... Whatever happened, Khalor had decided that he would accept whatever punishment that would be doled out to him.

They entered a room somewhere high up in the keep to find the Jarl and her housecarl waiting for him at a table.

"Sit down, elf," said Laila, motioning to the seat across from them. "You're dismissed, Henrik."

The guard gave a short bow and headed back to his duties. Khalor sat down at the table staring at the food laid out before him. His stomach growled audibly.

"Unmid, get those shackles off of Khalor. He looks famished."
Khalor looked across at the Jarl as Unmid undid the shackles. "You used my actual name. That's a first."
"We're at a table setting, Khalor. Civility is certainly called for in a situation such as this, wouldn't you agree? The only question is whether or not you can be civilized..."
"I will endeavor to do just that," replied Khalor.
"In that case, help yourself to some food and drink. Your look as if your about to waste away to nothingness."

And with that, Khalor dug in. It took all his willpower to not gorge himself like the brigand he once was, but he managed to feast somewhat civilly. Once he was done, he turned his attention back to the situation at hand.

Trying not to sound rude, he asked the Jarl "So, why have you brought me here?"
"Right to the point then, I see. Very well. I wished to notify you that Siddgeir is not expecting you back in Falkreath. I informed him of your apparent demise, at the hand of the Riften guards."

Khalor looked at her in awe. "Why would you tell him that and not the truth?"
"Because I believe you to be a different man than the one you used to be. I saw the shock and surprise on your face when I ordered you arrested. I also felt the deep sadness and regret emanating from your very being when you learned of who, and what, you are. It's my belief that the Divines have offered you a second chance and it would be foolish of me to ignore that."

Khalor said nothing, as he looked at her in disbelief. This can't be happening.

Laila continued, "I also believe in repentance and redemption, so I offer you a chance at just that. What you do with that chance shall define who you really are, and hopefully, allow you to leave behind your prior life."
"Milady, I would be remiss to not immediately accept what you offer me, and I will do whatever it is that you want of me for a chance at redemption. As far as repentance....I've had plenty of time to reflect on that in the last few weeks but, I fear I'll never be free of that."

She nodded. "The things we do in life never tend to leave us. Good or bad. I expected nothing less from you."

Khalor bowed his head in respect. He couldn't believe his fortune. After all that happened, and all that he learned of himself, he thought for sure his end was near. That death was soon to embrace him. But now, he had a purpose, and it put him at a peace he had not yet known. Maybe....just maybe, he could begin to lead a normal life.

He looked back up at Laila. "What would you have me do, ma'am?"
"Well aren't you the eager one? I like that. To business, then, but first things first. Anuriel - come in here, please."

The door opened and a fellow Bosmer entered the room. Khalor was taken aback, for a moment. She was beautiful.... but he quickly trounced the notion forming in his head. He was not going down that road again.

"Take this note down to the jail and see that the warden gets it. We need to have our friend here officially released."
"Yes, milady."

As she exited the room, the Jarl cleared her throat. Whoops. She must have caught me staring, thought Khalor.

"Now, back to the matter at hand," continued Laila. "You asked what I would have you do? You're going to assist me and the city of Riften for as long as I deem necessary. Firstly, you will finish what you started many weeks ago...."

Khalor was confused, and it must have shown in his expression.

"You told me of your visit to Heartwood Mill and of the search for Grosta's husband. I should like to see you find him, as you promised her you would. She deserves to know of her husbands fate, whatever it may become. Once you have taken care of that matter, come see me in the keep and we will move on to more pressing matters."
"It will be done, milady," said Khalor, as he rose from his seat.

As he turned and headed out the door, Laila addressed him once more. "Khalor.... I have put a lot of faith in you. Do not betray it. Or you will become very well acquainted with Unmid's greatsword."

Her tone was one of complete finality. Khalor bowed his head and exited the room.

Entry #7

After making camp just off the road, Khalor dove into the lake for a much needed bath. Eliminating the bandits at Broken Helm Hollow proved to be child's play, but all the blood and grime had left a mess on his tunic and he could not scrub it out no matter how hard he tried. He ended up discarding it in the bushes and returned to his fire to cook up a meal and watch the sunset. Khalor was still amazed at the beauty of the Rift, even more so as the sun went down over the lake turning everything a wonderful shade of orange.

After eating his meal, he retired to his bedroll early. The mill was a few hours walk still, and tomorrow morning seemed like a much better time to make the trek. Leifnarr hadn't survived his foolish endeavor and he didn't look forward to informing Grosta of his demise. She seemed a little too feisty for my taste, though Khalor, as he dozed off.

Sleep was fitful for Khalor at first, and once he fell into a deep sleep and began to dream, things did not get better. Flashes of places and people he once knew were darting in and out of his head for most of the night as his mind struggled to remember more about his past. It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that something finally crystallized in his mind. The face of a strong, beautiful woman... She had brown hair and some kind of lightly colored war paint across her face. Her gaze seemed to be one of endearment, but mixed with disappointment, as well. She motioned to something behind him and everything suddenly went black. Khalor awoke with a start and laid in wonder about what he had just dreamt about.

The sun was rising as Khalor broke camp and headed to Grosta's mill. It went better than expected and soon Kahlor was returning to Riften to see what was in store for him next.


Upon returning to the city, he decided to take a walk around Riften and get to know its layout. He talked to a few vendors and picked up some light work as he sold some of his miscellaneous belongings. On his way towards the meadery, he bumped into an Argonian dock worker who was in a sorry state.

"Please help me, I'm going to lose my job at the Riften Fishery," she said.
"Why is your job in danger?" asked Khalor.
"The owner, Bolli, said that if I show up for work in this condition one more time, then I'm out. I don't mean to do this to myself, but I can't help it. I tried some skooma a year ago, and ever since then, I can't stop!"

Khalor felt bad for her, so he gave her a healing potion to cleanse her of the poison. She thanked him vigorously and promised him that he had made a true friend today. He felt there was something more to this, though, and pressed her for more information.

"Look, I don't think I should say. I mean, they could kill me!" said Wujeeta, fearfully.
"I think you owe me one."
"Okay, okay, I'll tell you. I get my skooma from Sarthis Idren. He has some sort of a setup over at the Riften Warehouse. You can't get inside though. They've kept that place locked up tight since the war began."

Thanking her for the information, Khalor decided it was high time he returned to the keep. Maybe Laila knew more about this skooma situation...

Entry #8

"It's good that you stumbled upon this. I intended on having you deal with the situation before long anyway, and this just accelerates the issue," said Laila. "We know about Sarthis' presence in the Warehouse, but he had eluded us thus far. It would seem he has informants within the Keep."

A rat in the nest, thought Khalor. That seems perfectly in line with how this city is... "I assume that because I'm an outsider and a relative unknown, that I'll be paying him a visit?"
"Indeed, you will be," replied Laila. "Pay him a visit and convince him to put a stop to his practices. Here's the key to the Warehouse. Good luck."

With a short bow, Khalor exited the keep, and looked for a place to sit down, and work out how to tackle this. He had no doubts that Sarthis would not be the only one present. As he was mulling over a plan, a raven haired woman in noble attire strolled past, muttering about potions and an alchemy shop. Kahlor flagged her down and asked about the shop.

"It's on the lower walkway," said Ingun. "Cross the bridge by the Bunkhouse and take the stairs down below. You can't miss it."


As night fell, Khalor made his way to the docks. His trip to Elgrim's provided exactly what he needed. Poison. The Warehouse was down on the docks, and always under watch, but the darkness masked his presence. Lacing his dagger with the toxic mixtures, he crept inside and eliminated Sarthis' bodyguard, and then Sarthis' himself. Pocketing his key, Khalor made his way down to the basement and found a note naming the source of the skooma.


Back in the keep, he notified the Jarl. "Craglsane Cavern, ma'am. The skooma is being housed there before it comes into the city."
"Excellent work, Khalor. Unfortunately, the hardest part still lies ahead. I've no doubt that that hovel will be laced with scum. I'd advise against going it alone this time..."
"Sage advice, milady," said Khalor. "But, who else is there to help me? I've no acquaintances within the city, other than yourself, of course."
"Seek out Mjoll, in the city square. She's been a godsend to this city and it's fight against corruption. Or, if you fancy a mercenary type, pay a visit to the Bee and the Barb. Marcurio is an accomplished wizard for hire."


Khalor and Marc exited Riften the next day, as the sun was rising. A long day was in store, and Khalor first promised to drop off a sample in Shor's Stone for Elgrim. The teamwork and prowess of the duo was tested not far down the road at a ruined fort. The bandits didn't stand a chance, and Khalor felt much more confident than he had in a long time with a companion at his back.

Their quick stop in Shor's Stone proved to be profitable, after slaying a few spiders in the mine. They split the coin and continued on to Cragslane, eager to get there before the sun began to set. It was mid afternoon, when they approached the den, performing a light reconnaissance. The guard duty was fairly light... A single bandit and a few trained wolves. The were quickly dispatched, and quite soon, the duo was prepping for the fight inside.

"Bandits are desperate men," said Marcurio. "They have nothing to lose, and they fight like it..."

Entry #9

A little while later, the pair of bandit exterminators emerged from the cave, covered in blood and grime. The fight had taken its toll on them, and they both nearly collapsed from exhaustion. It took everything they had left to unpack their bedrolls before passing out on the ground. Concerned about wild animals, Marcurio blasted a gout of flame at the nearby fire pit to ward off any creatures during the night. Within minutes, both Khalor and Marcurio were out cold.

When the sun broke out over the trees, the duo finally awoke to the chill morning air, absolutely famished.

"Stay here and get another fire going," said Khalor. "I'm going out to hunt. I need some food before I pass out again."
With a sly grin, Marcurio replied, "Don't get eaten by a bear. I won't be there to save your sorry ass!"
"Yeah, yeah....."

Things had not gone as planned last night. The first stealthy arrow that Khalor loosed, lost a feather on it's way out of his bow and missed by several feet. The bandits didn't miss it, however, and what ensued nearly ended his life, had Marcurio not intervened in a hurry.

His magic is useful... I wonder if I have any aptitude in the arcane?

An hour later saw his return to the cave mouth, with a dead goat in tow.
"Hope you like roasted goat," said Khalor.
"It'll do, I suppose. I rather prefer venison, but I'm guessing you didn't have much luck?"
Khalor shook his head. "The only one I spotted was being set upon by wolves. Didn't seem worth the trouble."
"Yeah, probably a wise choice. I'm surprised you manage to hit the target this time!" he chuckled.
"Oh, bite me! You know damn well what happened to that arrow," laughed Khalor.

Despite the madness from the night before, Khalor felt good. It was nice to have a friend again, and he could tell that their experience in the cave forged a deep level of respect and trust between them. It wasn't just Marcurio's magic that got them out alive, but Khalor's instincts, as well. The fight was hectic and through it all, Khalor learned that he had a really strong aptitude for swordplay. He looked down at the steel sword he picked up last night.

"You're pretty adept with a blade," Marcurio noted. "Where'd you come by that skill?"
"Like many things, I'm not sure."

Khalor went on to tell Marcurio about his troubled and mostly forgotten past. It felt good to talk about it with someone other than the Jarl. Someone who saw him as more than a means to an end.

"Wow, you are one unlucky elf," said Marcurio. "At least we know where your combat training came from. I find it hard to believe you were a brigand, though. You don't seem the type."
"I very well may be the type, and just don't remember."
"That, or, the blow to the head may have knocked some sense into you," said Marcurio, with a laugh.
"Aye. You might be right there," mused Khalor.
"We better get moving. I'm sure the Jarl is anxious for your return. And I need a stiff drink from Keerava," said Marcurio.

The hike back up to Riften was quick and easy, and they were back in the city by mid afternoon. Once in the square, they split up for the time and Khalor headed for the keep. He supposed he probably should have taken a dip in the lake before strolling through the town square. He knew looked a sight, covered in the dregs of combat. As he entered the keep, Khalor heard an audible gasp of shock, followed by derisive looks at him. He approached the Jarl.

"Cragslane is wiped clean, milady." She looks utterly surprised to see me, thought Khalor. She didn't expect me back...
"Why, this is excellent news!" said Laila. "Hopefully we can nip a problem like this in the bud, next time. I thank you for your efforts, Khalor. Guards! Let it be known that our friend here is officially pardoned. Now, Khalor....do us all a favor, and go take a bath!"

Khalor bowed, "Thank you, milady."
"And stop back in sometime. I might yet have some more work for you to do."

Entry #10

“Fat Chance,” Khalor muttered, on the way out. Exiting the keep, he made his way through the marketplace, selling off the oddments he gathered in Cragslane. Brand Shei was an interesting sort, and they struck up a conversation about his name. Khalor agreed to keep his eyes open, while out on his adventures, for any clues or the wrecked ship Brand was found in.

He entered the inn, and found Marcurio in his usual place. Khalor motioned to an empty table and they both sat down to relax with a pint, and a bit of food. They started to converse about their experience at the cave, but Khalor was only half engaged. The other half was back to dwelling on his past. Quite suddenly, he interrupted Marcurio in mid-sentence. “Where’d you learn your magic skills?”

“My magics? I trained at the College of Winterhold. Why do you ask?”

Khalor told him of his initial notion to travel there and seek aid. “Before all this skeever crap started, I was journeying to the College. I thought if anyone could help me recover my memories, it would be the mages.”

“Hmm, interesting notion, I couldn’t tell you with any certainty if they could help. I did not learn of all their arcane abilities, while I was there. But, the masters have much more knowledge of the arcane than they teach. Only those that stay for life explore the more mysterious secrets,” said Marcurio.

“Do you think it’s worth a journey?” asked Khalor. “I need answers. I can’t keep ignoring the past. The memories are in there....I just can’t find them. “
“Then that’s where we go next,” said Marcurio. “But, for now... we drink.”
“I won’t argue with that!”

Entry #11

As dawn broke the next day, the sun turned the sky a luminous orange that slowly crept in under the trees. The two friends exited Riften and were heading to the carriages when Marcurio spoke up.
“We’ll take the carriage to Windhelm to stock up on supplies. From there, we’ll trek north on foot.”

“Why not just take it straight to Winterhold? asked Khalor. “Trudging through the freezing cold and the snow seems like a stupid idea.”
“It may not seem ideal, but, it’s not without merit. We’d be foolish to not visit the Shrine of Azura.”
“The Daedra?! Why in blazes would that be a good idea?” said Khalor. “Nothing good could ever come of that! I’d just as soon they stay my past stay forgotten, rather than give myself to a Daedra!”
“You’ll just have to trust me. I have an old friend who tends the shrine and I can assure you that nothing will befall us. The sight alone is worth the effort, whether or not Azura can help us. She has been known to help those that are faithful to her.”

And with that, they climbed into the carriage, bound for Windhelm. Khalor was still uneasy about this next move, but he did trust Marcurio. The idea of cavorting with the Daedra frightened him, and he couldn’t help but think this was a bad idea. Everything he knew about the princes told him he was right to be apprehensive. I just know this won’t go well, thought Khalor.

The arrival in Windhelm was just as he suspected. It was already blisteringly cold and snowy, even though it was only a day’s ride north. Khalor and Marc headed into the city for supplies, soon found themselves in Sadri’s Used Wares. He didn’t have much, but it was enough for the journey, provided they didn’t run into any dire situations. They split up in front of the inn to shop for themselves. Khalor wanted to improve his gear, and Marc headed for the court wizard, looking for some new spells. Meeting up back at the inn, they grabbed a room for the night and got everything ready to travel the next day.

The arrival of morning did nothing to improve the weather from yesterday, so the duo bundled up and headed out into the cold. The journey was perilous, but the two combined made short work of anything that bothered them. Ice wolves seem to be the most common, with the occasional white sabre cat being a true threat. After sneaking past a ruined fort, they rounded a bend to find a wide path, heading up the mountain.

“Up we go,” said Marc, pointing up the hill.
Khalor whistled. ”Wow. That’s quite a climb. And I’m fairly certain that’s a troll stumbling about up there. Are you sure this is necessary?”
“Necessary? No. Helpful? I have a hunch that it will be, but only time will tell. Come on, we better get to it. And keep that bow drawn, just in case.”

Entry #12

“Wow,” said Khalor, as they came up over the crest. “You weren’t kidding. What a sight.”
The massive stone statue loomed tall against the aurorae lit night sky. A beautifully carved woman in robes, with a moon in one hand and a star in the other. Khalor had never seen anything like it, and was quite amazed by its sheer size.

“I told ya,” chuckled Marc. “I think I see Aranea up there. Let’s go.”

The two made their way towards the base of the shrine and headed up the stairs towards the altar. A robed Dunmer woman of untold age was chanting with her arms raised to the Azura, as they approached. When she took notice of them, she lowered her arms and turned their way.

“Hello Marcurio. It’s been a long time since you paid us a visit. To what do we owe the pleasure?”
Marc paused. “You didn’t foresee our arrival?”
“Strangely, I did not. And who is this, that you have brought with you?” asked Aranea.

“A friend of Marc’s, miss. My name is Khalor, and together we seek to unlock my past. My memories up until recently are gone, and all I have are fragments. We journey to Winterhold, but Marc thought it would be wise to seek help from Azura, too.”

“A forgotten past? Intriguing. I will do what I can to help. Any friend of Marcurio’s, is a friend of mine. Come forward, so that I can have a look at you,” said Aranea. “Hmm, that is strange. Your aura is clouded, Khalor. Let me commune with Azura. Perhaps she will know more of this.”

Khalor and Marc stepped back and cleared a place to sit. The stone was cold, but they were tired and needed the respite. Marc lit a small fire with some wood he found near the base of the shrine, and Khalor waited with bated breath, while Aranea silently prayed. After an hour or two went by, Marcurio became restless.

“Something is amiss, Khalor. This shouldn’t be taking so long. Aranea has helped me in the past, and it never takes her this long to commune with the Goddess.”

Before Khalor could respond, Aranea lowered her arms and walked towards them. “Marcurio, you are welcome to stay, but I’d ask that you leave, Khalor.”

“What? Why?” said Khalor. “Have I done something to offend Azura?”
“What gives, Aranea? I’ve never seen you turn away someone in need,” said Marc.

“As I said before, your aura is clouded. For me to say that is one thing. But, for Azura to say that is another. There is a darkness hanging over you, Khalor. And not even Azura, who has guided me for countless years, can see through it. You would do well to seek it’s source, but you’ll have to do so without her guidance.”

Entry #13

Dinner at the Frozen Hearth was a quiet affair. There was so much for Khalor to take in, that he sat in virtual silence whilst mulling it all over. Not even the Daedra wanted to help.

“What else is left?” said Khalor. “I can’t see the college being any help, if they all fear the darkness that supposedly surrounds me.”
“You sound ridiculous when you say that aloud,” laughed Marcurio. “I won’t deny things look pretty bleak for you. All you can do is keep looking for answers. We trudged all the way up to this gods forsaken town, the least we can do is pay a visit to the college.”
“S’pose you’re right. Do you have any friends we can see first, when we get up there?”
“A couple, but they won’t be able to help us. We’ll stop into the library first. Urag might have an old tome we can look through,” said Marcurio.

After dinner and a dozen or so ales, they headed into their rooms for the night. The dreams that Khalor had were fleet and consisted mostly of flashes and indiscernible voices cascading about his head. When he awoke the next morning, all he could remember of it was a lone eye staring at him. I need to lay off that Nord swill they call ale, thought Khalor.

Marcurio was able to secure them access to the college without the usual prerequisites. As they headed up the walkways into the courtyard, Khalor couldn’t help but wonder how this vast citadel still stood of its own accord. The entire college was sitting precariously on a huge stone pillar that looked like it could crumble at any moment. It’s no wonder the Nords think the mages are to blame for the sorry state of their city.

“So, where’s this library?” asked Khalor.
“It’s up the stairs here. C’mon.”

Up a spiral staircase of stone and through another heavy, inlaid door they found themselves in the stacks. Marcurio made his way to the counter, where an old Orsimer with white hair and beard was seated. Khalor wandered around the stacks, looking at the assorted tomes in various states of aging. Some looked fresh and newer, and some looked like they’d survived since the first era.

With the events that occurred high in the mountains, the Daedra were still fresh in the mind of Khalor. His interest was no doubt piqued when he saw a dusty old tome amongst the many named ‘The Book of Daedra’. A quick glance around proved that nobody was nearby, and he stowed the book in his pack.

From across the room he heard a gruff voice,"You are now in the Arcanaeum, of which I am in charge. It might as well be my own little plane of Oblivion. Disrupt my Arcanaeum, and I will have you torn apart by angry Atronachs. Now, do you require assistance?"

Entry #14

Khalor paled. I can’t do jail again. Especially in this cold armpit of the land, he thought. Marcurio gave him a look as if he was saying ‘all clear’, and motioned for him to come on over. Khalor relaxed, and trotted over to the counter, where some books were laid across it.

“These are your best bet,” said Urag. Khalor looked down at them. “Elder Scrolls?! Are you kidding me?”
“Orc’s don’t ‘kid’. If you want knowledge, that’s where you’ll get it.”

Marcurio glanced over at Khalor, “You ok? You look a little green...”
“Probably because that’s how I feel,” said Khalor. “There has to be another way.” He opened up one of the books and began to read it. Well, he tried to read it. “This is incomprehensible,” he said aloud. “What the hell do these ramblings even mean?”

“Heh, only Septimus knows the answer to that question. And he has been gone for years. Nobody is really sure what happened to him. He disappeared up into the ice fields.”

Khalor sighed, and set the book back down, deep in thought. Marcurio broke the silence a few seconds later. “Well, thank you for your help Urag. We’ll head back into town and figure things out from there.”
“Sure. Take care of yourself, Marc. And your friend here.”



Back at the inn, the mood was still gloomy. Khalor and Marcurio didn’t really speak much, as they both thought about the prospect of going that far north. The cold was bad enough, already and they weren’t eager to trudge across fields of ice. It wasn’t until after dinner and few meads that Khalor finally spoke up. “There might be another way to go about this, Marcurio.”

“What’d you have in mind? Does it have something to do with that book you pocketed?” he said, with a sly grin.
“You saw that, did you? For a moment, I thought Urag spotted me taking it, too.”
“Nah, you’re safe. Obviously. But, what book is it?”

Khalor reached into his pack and pulled out the tome. “The book of Daedra,” he said, as he laid it on the table.
“What in blazes do you want this book for?” hissed Marcurio. “You’re worried about getting an Elder Scroll while entertaining this notion? Azura is one thing, but no the rest are another. What grabbed your attention so much that you had to steal this?”

“Read the description for Hermaeus Mora,” said Khalor. Marcurio scanned down the page until he found it. Hermaeus Mora, whose sphere is scrying of the tides of Fate, of the past and future as read in the stars and heavens, and in whose dominion are the treasures of knowledge and memory.

“You can’t be serious. Dealings with Mora never go well, and most end up being driven mad,” said Marcurio. “Why do you think this would be a better option that reading an Elder Scroll.?”

“I don’t,” said Khalor. “But, we may need other options. What happens if we somehow manage to track a scroll down, and we get nowhere with it. Square one is a lot easier to swallow, when you have a back-up plan.”

“Logically yes, but practically? Stay away from Mora, friend. That is some of the soundest advice I can give you.”

“Alright, fine. We’ll head up into the ice tomorrow morning. Sleep well, Marcurio. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.

Entry #15

“This is a really stupid idea!” Khalor yelled, over the deafening gales that were blowing in off the Sea of Ghosts. “Whose bright idea was this anyway?”
“Eh, it doesn’t matter at this point. Don’t waste energy shouting over this, we’re going to need all we have!”

Khalor pulled his cloak in tighter, staving off the cold that tried to creep into every bone. He had never imagined it would be this bad out here near the ice. Visibility was less than ten feet and the winds were so strong, it took everything they had just to not get blown over. And they hadn’t even started to cross the water yet, this was just the shoreline.

The winds died down as they approached the ice forms, so they decided to take a breather and light a fire. Usable wood was scarce, but a few jets of Marcurio’s flame spells made it child’s play to light the frozen timbers. They mostly sat in silence, chewing on their provisions. “I’d rather be back in the Riften Jail,” said Khalor.

“I tend to agree with you,” said Marcurio. “This is terrible.”

Not much else was said, as the two men relaxed. Khalor noticed the sun was already moving far to the west and so they got on their way once more. They each said a quick prayer to Kynareth, hoping that the winds didn’t stir up again, as the hopped across the frozen sea. The goddess seemed to have heard their prayers, for it wasn’t long before the sun set to a clear night sky.

They made camp for the night on a small sliver of dirt at the base of a huge glacier. Horkers were all around them. Bouncing back and forth and grunting their way occasionally, but the duo knew well enough to leave them alone. Horkers want nothing to do with men or mer and would leave them alone, too.

“Pretty soon the fire of the Gods will be dancing in the sky,” said Marcurio.

“Come again? Fire of the Gods? What in blazes is that supposed to mean?” asked Khalor.

“You’ve never been this far north have you? The auroa’s dance in the night sky, if it’s clear enough. And this is one of the clearest nights I’ve seen in years. Our lady Kynareth most have smiled her good fortune upon us.”

“Yeah, that’s all well and good, but what's this ‘aurora’ you’re going on about?”

“I can’t explain it adequately. You’ll just have to wait and see," Marcurio said, with a wink.

Entry #16

Khalor has never seen such an awesome display of nature the likes of the auroae. The bands of vivid colors dancing to and fro in the night sky, was something he could scant believe. They seem to enthrall him in that he could not look away from the beauty of Tamriel’s northern sky. He didn’t yet remember much from his past, but he was certain this was something he had never seen.

“You weren’t kidding, Marc. I wouldn’t even know where to start if someone asked me to describe this to them. What causes such beauty?”
“Not sure. If I had to guess, I’d say magic. Maybe residual power from when the Aedra walked the Nirn. Or maybe just an effect of magic escaping Aetherius, and making its way here.”
“Sounds like something the philosophers would debate,” said Khalor.
“Indeed. I say we turn in for the night, friend.”
“Not a bad idea. We’ll need all the energy we can muster tomorrow.”

Dawn broke as the intrepid duo made their way further north, into the ice. The clear skies seemed like they were likely to hold, as there wasn’t a cloud in sight. Fortune comes in spurts it would seem, though Khalor. It was midday when Khalor spotted a weathered longboat tethered outside of a cave entrance. A thatched wooden door separated the icy interior from harsh winds and a lit torch told them that someone must still be in there. Hopefully this Septimus character will have some had answers, though Khalor.


After what felt like less than a minute, Khalor pulled Marcurio aside. “This guy is a nutter. Does any of this make sense to you? “
“Vaguely. The old codger definitely knows more than he is letting on. Let’s hear him out.”


They emerged from the outpost a short while later, both with incredulous looks on their faces. “The Heart of a God? Is he serious?!” blurted Khalor.
“It would seem that way. Though of what I’ve read in books, the Heart he is speaking of was destroyed long ago, at Red Mountain,” said Marcurio.
“Hmm, I wonder what is actually in the box...”
“I don’t know, but at least we know where a scroll can be found. I’d ask you if you knew anything of this Blackreach, but something tells me you won’t remember,” grinned Marcurio.
“Har har. Good to know the cold hasn’t sapped your sense of ‘humor’,” said Khalor.

This post has been edited by Cain: Nov 8 2016, 05:41 PM

[Kane]

Entry #43

Khalor and Marcurio emerged from the sunken keep to a brilliantly colored evening sky. The orange light of the sunset shone brightly on the surface of the lake, as it made it's descent into the western reaches of the sky. They decided it was as good a place as any to rest up and have a bite to eat, before hitting the road once again. Soon, a small fire was crackling away as Marc prepared a stew out of various food they'd found inside Illinalta's Deep.

"Well, we have the Star now, Khalor... The next question is, how do go about returning it?"

"I say we hike to Whiterun and take the carriage to Winterhold. It'll be the quickest and easiest way to go about it. Plus, we can always relax in Whiterun for a day or so. Maybe get rid of some of the treasures we've picked up recently."

"Works for me, K. Head out after we eat?"

"Aye. The lake is a beautiful sight, but it takes on an eerie sort of tone at night. We'll be better off to cut through Brittleshin and camp on the plains, if need be." The stew Marc had thrown together was now ready, and they dug into it with gusto, washing it down with cool, crisp water from the lake. Once they were done, and their belongings were packed back up, Khalor stomped out the small fire. The trail up to the mountain pass was clear, and luckily the cave itself was still empty, too.

"This is where I found that blasted orb of Meridia's," said Khalor. "I probably looked like a right goof, trying to get rid of the damned thing in here!"

"I can only imagine!" laughed Marcurio. "What I'd have given to see you chucking that silly thing about in here!"

Shortly after, they emerged from the northern entrance to the now dark sky. Visibility was low, so Marc cast his Candlelight spell as Khalor lit a torch he'd plucked from inside the pass. The trail down to the east/west road lit up before them as they continued on their journey to Whiterun.

------------------------------------------------

The clouds cleared from the night sky as they approached the stables outside of Whiterun. Masser and Secunda dimly lit night around them, allowing Khalor and Marcurio to extinguish their own light sources, for the time being. Oddly enough, Bjorlam, the carriage driver was still sitting at the ready, even at the late hour of the night that it was. Khalor glanced over at Marc, "What do you think? Should we just get this over with? Or head into the city for the night?"

Marcurio sighed, "I say we just go. Let's be done with the Daedra for a while."

Khalor nodded, and hailed Bjorlam. "Take us to Winterhold."

"That'll be fifty Septims, elf."

Khalor handed over the gold, and the two friends clambered up into the back, bound for the icy north once again.

Entry #44

The cold wind blew around them as they made for Winterhold's lone place of refuge. Chilled to the core and tired from the long ride through the snow, Khalor and Marcurio didn't even bother to eat. Instead, they each rented a room and burrowed down into the warm bed furs for a much needed rest. Several hours later, Khalor rose from bed to find Marc already awake, and eating at a table in the common room. He settled in next to him on the bench, and grabbed an apple wedge off of Marc's plate. "What time of the day is it, anyway?"

"Late afternoon," said Marcurio. "Do you want to head up there now, or wait until the morning?"

Khalor looked around the nearly deserted common room. "Let's head up there now. There's nothing to do in this godsforsaken town to pass the time anyway."

Marc chuckled. "Yeah, you're not wrong there. C'mon, I had a feeling you'd say that. Our stuff is ready to go."

The wind and snow had finally died down outside, allowing a cold, but sunny trip into the mountains. A bear slowed them down on the way, but only just. They still made excellent time as they came over the last rise to the small plateau where Azura's beautiful shrine had been constructed. It dominated the evening sky with the aurorae just becoming visible around it's apex. Khalor and Marc made their way up the stairs towards the alter and the Dunmer priestess Aranea, who was ever tending to it.

When she saw them approaching with the star, she eagerly relieved it from them, and laid it on the altar, instructing Khalor to place his hands on it as well. He did as she asked, and no sooner had his hands lain down did he here the very same ethereal voice that had echoed in his dreams before. Only this time it was much more distinct, and....closer.

------------------------------------------------

Marcurio and Aranea watched from behind as their friend stood in silence, communicating with the Daedra. "What do you suppose the are chatting about, Aranea?"

"The star needs purified, Marc. It has been desecrated by the elven mage who was seeking immortality. I think Azura means to send him inside to do it, too.

"What do you mean? How can a person enter an artifcat like tha-"

He was interrupted by a sudden burst of white light, and the disappearance of Khalor. "As I thought, she has sent him inside to cleanse the star."

------------------------------------------------

The glare cleared from Khalor's eyes as he materialized inside the artifact of Azura. It seemed almost impossible but, there he was, inside a star that could fit inside his pocket. The interior was a fascinating sight, and not at all what he suspected. Crystalline structures of varying blue shades made up the architecture of the entire plane he found himself in. But, his wonderment was quickly interrupted by a harsh voice coming from ahead of him.

"Ah, my disciples have sent me a fresh soul. Good. I was getting... hungry. Wait... There's something different about you..."

"This experiment of yours is over, Malyn."

"And who are you to challenge me? I have conquered mortality itself. I've spat in the eyes of the Daedric Lords. This is my realm now. I've sacrificed too much to let you take it from me!" He retreated deeper in, throwing fireballs at Khalor, who was in quick pursuit. Quite suddenly, two Dremoras appeared in front of him, blocking his route to Malyn. "A CHALLENGER IS NEAR!"

Khalor dodged it's incoming attack and quickly countered, dropping the first summon in a flash of his keen blade. The second one obviously didn't learn from the first ones mistakes and rushed in just as fast, only to meet the same end. The path to Malyn was clear, so the elf drew his trusty bow, and laced an arrow with the most potent poison he had. Rounding the bend to Malyn's open space, he loosed his arrow just as he sidestepped another fireball. The poisoned missle flew true, burying itself in Malyn's heart, quickly bringing an end to his so-called immortality.

Azura's voice rang out around him, as she purified the star and began returning him to Tamriel.

Entry #45

Khalor reappeared in another flash before Marc and Aranea's eyes. He looked no worse for the wear, but what more was Azura's star. It was bright and whole once again, laying at the ready on the altar. Before they could say anything, Khalor turned around and place his hands on the altar once more and closed his eyes.

"Milady Azura, you promised to help me if I returned your star to you. I ask you now to do so."

The omniscient voice echoed in his mind. "Very well, Khalor. You have performed your duties to the letter, and I am most pleased with the results of your latest task, and your prior experiences. What would you ask of me?"

"I need to know more about who I am. All I know is my recent past, but there has to be more. Can you reverse this amnesia I suffer? Or am I resigned to living my life out from that fateful day in the wagon and on?"

There was a brief moment of silence before Azura's voice sounded again. "Yes, I can restore your memories, if that is what you wish. But, you may not like what you find, and you may be better off staying the path that you are on right now. Remember, I've seen all of your possible fates, and I can say for certain that if you choose the one you are asking of me, your life will change drastically."

Khalor thought on that in silence for a few moments, but it was no good. "Milady, I have to know. I know now that I'm a good person, and that I've rectified my past doings... But what if I had a family? What if they are still alive? I need to know...."

"Very well, Khalor. It shall be done. But, before you go, and before I return what has been lost, I'd like to give you one last bit of advice. Do not act impulsively. It will be your undoing."

------------------------------------------------

Another flash of the brightest light lit up the mountainside around Marcurio and Aranea, and once it cleared they found Khalor slumped over the altar, unconscious. Marc darted up and hurriedly checked to make sure he was still alive. Aranea's hand steadied his arm as she spoke softly to him, "It's ok, Marcurio. Azura has given him back that which he desired. All his life's memories have been returned, and it likely overburdened his mind for the time being. He just needs to rest."

Marc turned to her, with a look of amazement on his face, "You mean, she agreed to help him?"

"Of course. Azura rather took a liking to your friend, and his work in her name pleased her. But, we can discuss this later. For now, let's get Khalor to bed, and let him rest."

Epilogue

It was several days of lying asleep on his bed at the The Frozen Hearth before Khalor finally awoke. He laid there quietly enjoying his long forgotten past. Names and faces circulated throughout his head as events of his life reminded him of who he really was.

Khalor. A native of Valenwood and it's city of Haven, on the southern shore, just near the border of Elsweyr. And what's more, he had family there when he had left. Or rather, when he had been forced out. It seemed that he had put the skills he was apt with to crime very early on in his life, and when his misdeeds were discovered, Khalor was given an ultimatum. Turn yourself in or leave.

He now felt regret that he had chosen to leave, rather then repent for his crimes. And he felt lonely. All the family he'd left behind over something so unremarkable. His mind was set on where his journey would take him next, and he arose from his bed to find Marcurio.

Marc was sitting in a chair by the fire, with a tankard in hand. He didn't see Khalor approaching and jumped in surprise when the Bosmer sat down next to him. "By the Eight, don't surprise me like that, elf!" Marc clapped him on the back in delight, "Good to see your finally awake!"

"How long was I out for, Marc? My joints are quite stiff..."
"Three days. I was getting uneasy, but Aranea assured me that you were alright." He paused. "Did it work? Can you remember everything?"

Khalor nodded. "Aye, it's all in there. Everything. I'm not proud of all of it, either, but it could be worse."

"You alright, K? You seem...distracted."

"Just thinking on what Azura said. She gave me one last warning before I blacked out. 'Do not act impulsively. It will be your undoing'."

"She probably means the Elder Scroll. You were considering to use it, weren't you?"

"I was, actually. That must be it. We need to get rid of that bloody thing. Any ideas?"

"The college might take it," said Marcurio. "They are always interested in those sorts of things. Urag would probably squeal in delight if we offered him an Elder Scroll."

"Good thinking," said Khalor. "But we something else important to address, Marc. I want to return to Valenwood. I've made my amends here in Skyrim, but I still have more to do back home. It feels like the right thing to do."

Marc said nothing. It was now he who looked...distracted. Apparently lost in thought at this latest development in their adventures. Khalor began to worry. Marc had been through so much with him, and had always stuck with it. A true friend in Khalor's time of needs, and someone he could always count on. Khalor didn't want to leave Skyrim knowing he'd lost one of his only friends for his own selfish endeavors. But, the silence was unnerving. He decided to take his leave for the time being, and head up to the college.

Urag was indeed delighted, when Khalor offered him the Elder Scroll. He even paid quite a sum for it, ensuring Khalor the means for his long journey. With nothing left to do, he headed back to the inn. Hopefully Marc would be ready to talk to him about it...

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As he re-entered the Frozen Hearth, he found his friend still sitting silently by the fire, but the tankard was now set down on the floor. Khalor sat back down in the chair next to him, and was about to address Marc, but was beaten to the punch, "Well, I suppose there's only one thing left for it, then," said Marcurio. He looked back up at Khalor, "When do we head out?"