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> A Life, Forgotten, The Tale of an Amnesiac Bosmer in Skyrim
Kane
post Nov 8 2016, 05:36 PM
Post #1


Master
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Joined: 26-September 16
From: Hammerfell



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. smile.gif

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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


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Kane
post Nov 8 2016, 06:10 PM
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Joined: 26-September 16
From: Hammerfell





Entry #17


The two men sat huddled around a small fire they managed to ignite inside a rundown cabin. The journey was treacherous, but they had persevered through the trolls, bears, and wolves that plagued their journey to Alftand. The point of puncture. Marc seemed to have a nervous look about him....and that worried Khalor. "Something on your mind, friend?"

Marcurio glanced up, "Ah, yes, I suppose you could say that. I'm worried what we will find inside. These Dwemer ruins usually involve dealings with the Falmer."
"Falmer? What's a Falmer?"
"Sorry, I still forget sometimes that you don't remember most things. They're horrible, twisted creatures that dwell in the deepest depths of Skyrim. Brutal, deformed savages that prey on anything foolish enough to venture down into the depths of the earth," said Marc.
"Can't be anymore foolish than some of the other things we've done," said Khalor.
"I guess we'll see."


A few hours later, they rolled up their packs and made way down into the glacial ruins. A small cave opening marked the way in, and the two men ventured in with torch's ablaze. Everything felt....wrong. Immediately they could tell something foul was at play, especially once they began hearing a deranged sort of chattering, emanating from further in. Khalor and Marc soon rounded a corner to find a Khajiit rushing them with an axe. They quickly put him down, and moved further in. Fighting their way through the dwemer constructs was tricky, but the combined efforts of Khalor's sword work and Marcurio's magic led them through without harm. Eventually they came to a ledge, where the ramp had broken off and fallen. "Do we jump?"
"Aye," said Marcurio. "Nothing else for it.

As the landed with a slight thud, they were immediately set upon by some mysterious creature. It fought savagely with a strange axe imbued with some kind of poison. Once it was felled, Khalor knelt to examine it. "What a strange being. It almost looks elven."
"Quite astute, Khalor. Scholars believe them to be the remnants of the Sow Elves."
"Snow Elves?
"Later. I think I hear more of them...."

More was understatement. There were hordes of them in this dark and foul ruin. After resting for a few hours, Khalor and Marc were underway again, fighting when needed, and evading when possible. Alftand never seemed to end, and neither did it's supply of foes. Eventually they made their way to some kind of open cavern dubbed a 'Cathedral'. They eliminated the Falmer nearby and set about to open the large gate in their path. Marc found a lever on the balcony above that did the trick, and the two made their way in.

Khalor was checking out a mysterious blue rock formation when it happened. A sudden burst of steam and the clinking of pistons caused them to quickly ready, as the massive automaton stepped out of it's gantry with it's sight set on them. The ensuing battle was lengthy and perilous. Thrice during it's course saw the near death of either Marc or Khalor and it took all the skill they had, combined with luck and plenty of healing spells to bring the behemoth down. Exhausted from the fight, the duo slumped down against the wall to finally catch their breath. "Let's never do that again," said Khalor.

"No arguments here. That was worse than the Falmer. Here, drink this." Khalor snagged the stamina potion Marc chucked at him and took a few deep swigs from it.
"Much better, thanks. Should we--" Khalor stopped, mid sentence and motioned for Marcurio to come over.
"What is it?" asked Marc.
"Voices. Up there, behind the gate.

Marcurio nodded, and they rose up silently and continued on through the gate. There was two people gearing up for a fight, across the dais. Khalor tapped Marc on the shoulder. "Let it play out. We're better off having to deal with only one of them, and maybe we can reason with the victor."
"Agreed." Marc motioned to the column on their right. "Let's wait back here."

It wasn't a long fight, and the woman quickly came out on top. They stepped out of the shadows to try and have a word with her, but she immediately attacked them. Together they once again made short work of the fight and Khalor ended up with a new shield. "Be careful with those spikes," said Marc. "I don't want you stabbing me in the ass by accident."

"Oh, you'll be fine. Did you notice the podium? I think that's what the sphere is for."
"Well, give it a try, then."

Khalor laid the tuning sphere into the receptacle. Nothing happened for a few seconds, but quite suddenly, the floor began to rumble and the tiles beneath their feet dropped down to form a staircase leading down even further into the earth. "How much further down can this place be?"



Entry #18


Blackreach was an understatement. The darkness stretched to nearly every corner, making it near impossible to guess it's size. The only discernable light came from massive luminescent fungi, and a large orb hanging a good bit away. "Marc, I can't see a damned thing. You got a torch, by chance?"

"Nope, but I do have a spell that will work for us. Hopefully it doesn't go out during a fight, though."

A ball of light appeared in front of them, and hovered along ahead when they moved. "So, what do you think?"

"We could use a break after that fight. Let's head for that structure over there," said Marcurio. "Watch your step, and keep an eye peeled for Falmer. There's no way they aren't here." Khalor nodded, and they set off across the road. A Falmer and a Sphere beset them near the door, but they were childs play compared to what they had been through. The door swung open to reveal a modest living space, complete with an alchemy station and a skeleton.

"Isn't that just lovely," said Khalor.
"It could be worse. At least it isn't recent. Check that journal, maybe it will tell us who this poor sod is. I wonder what the deal with this plant is..."

Khalor knelt and grabbed the worn journal on the floor. "Sinderion. Definitely an alchemist on some kind of research expedition. Looks like the Falmer did him in. Do you have an interest in plants, Marc? He seemed to think that red Nirnroot was something special."

"It's definitely unique. I've not heard of any other types, until now. Maybe I'll bring a sample along with us." He stowed the glowing plant into his pack, and took a seat by the fire. "I'll take first watch. Get some sleep."

"How the hell am I supposed to get any sleep in a stone bed?" said Khalor. Marcurio grinned, "if that's how you feel, I'd advise you to skip Markarth during your journey's."



Several hours later saw the pair leaving the lab to continue on their journey. "I have no idea which way to go, Marc. Can you make anything out that looks like a tower?"

"No, not from here at least. Give me a boost up to the roof; maybe I'll get a better view from there." Khalor gave him a lift towards the top, and Marcurio scurried up onto the roof of the lab. He extinguished his light spell and let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Khalor's voice rang out from below, "See anything promising?"

"Aye. Off in the far corner is an illuminated tower of sorts," said Marcurio. He jumped down from the roof and motioned to Khalor, "C'mon, we'll follow the road, for now." The winding brick road lead them past several more Falmer and even a few Charus, but luckily the Centurion remained in his slumber. Blackreach is an odd place, to be sure, thought Khalor. The glowing fungi grew to towering heights, almost becoming lost in the highest reaches of the massive cavern. More of the odd glowing rock outcrops littered the expanse, as well.

They progressed well, and soon came in sight of the tower that Marcurio spotted from Sinderion's roof. It looked promising. "I think we're on the right track, Marc," said Khalor. "We may soon be out of this place, and unharmed to boot." It was just then that a huge, lumbering figure strode out of the darkness. "Marc, go! RUN! It's a Giant!"



Entry #19

They barely escaped the swing of its massive club. Darting as fast as the two could, they made their way into the tower and slammed the door behind them. “What in blazes is a giant doing down here?”
“I don’t know,” said Marcurio. “And I don’t want to find out. Unless, you want to go ask him...”
“Fat chance,” said Khalor. He pointed to a lever, just ahead of them. “Looks like another one of those lifts. Let’s get to it!”

A short rise later, they were standing in a circular common room filled with various odds and ends. Another door across from them seemed to lead to a large, open chamber with a strange apparatus near the top.

Khalor whistled. “What do you make of that, Marc?”
“I haven’t a clue. Some kind of observatory, maybe? Let’s head up to that balcony, it looks like there are some kind of control mechanisms up there.”

Once at the top, Khalor placed the lexicon in it’s receptacle and the machine sprang to life. Not having a clue about what to do next, he started hitting buttons until something happened. After a few hits, another pedestal light illuminated. “You seem to be on the right track....hit that one next, “ said Marcurio.

A few minutes later they had it. A long cylindrical case lowered down from the inner workings and opened above the center platform. It revealed exactly what they had been looking for, and even had left some kind of mnemonic imprint on the lexicon. “That must be what Septimus was hoping for,” said Khalor, as he studied pulled the cube from it’s receptacle. “Now, let’s get that scroll, and get out of this place. I’ve had enough of this Dwemer ruin and it’s denizens.”

They headed down the tunnel below the balcony and found another lift. This time, though, they emerged into a small exterior chamber in the mountains. The weather was not in their favor, as they emerged into a punishing snow storm. An abandoned camp was seated at the base of the ramp, and that’s what Khalor and Marcurio made their way to. The fire was extinguished and half buried in the snow, but the tent was still dry and secure.

“Good thing this was here...or we’d be going back inside,” said Khalor.
“You’re not getting me back inside there. I’m just as sick of being underground as you are.” Marcurio got up and peered out into the snow filled sky. “It looks to be pretty late in the night. You can take first watch this time, I’m going to sleep.”



The next day, they began their trek down out of the mountains. The weather had broken sometime during the night, and the sky was now a clear, sunny blue. The view was vast and impressive, easily allowing Khalor and Marc to pinpoint their location. “There’s Dragonsreach, off in the distance,” said Marcurio. “We’re about half a days walk from Whiterun.”

“Do they have a carriage in Whiterun?” asked Khalor. “That’d be a hell of a lot easier than trekking to Winterhold, again.”
“Aye, that they do. That was my though, too.”

Soon they were coming down out of the foothills, and onto the plains of Whiterun. The rocky outcrops began to thin out and the landscape turned into more of a tundra. It was beautiful and unlike anything Khalor had yet seen, but he still found himself longing for the woods of Falkreath and the Rift. Marcurio gathered alchemy ingredients as they walked, and Khalor stopped to mine the occasional ore vein. About halfway through their journey, they rested in a small grove of trees and munched on a quick meal.

“I’m starting to dread our return to the north,” said Khalor. “This weather is much more to my liking. What about you? Have you always lived in the pleasant weather that Riften offers?”

“Yes. At least, since I came up from Cyrodiil. I’ve gotten somewhat used to the cold though.... Something about Skyrim does that t--.” Marcurio stopped mid-sentence.

“I heard it too,” whispered Khalor. “Sounded like fast footfalls, and frantic breathing...”

Quite suddenly, a woman dashed into their small campsite. Her clothes were in tatters and she was covered in muck and grime. Leaning against the tree to catch her breath, she clutched at her side and gasped at them, “Oh, thank goodness! I've been wandering alone for so long, I thought I'd never see another soul again."

“Calm down,” said Khalor. “We’re not going to hurt you. How’d you end up out here like this?”

"I was kidnapped by these bandits weeks ago. They locked me up in the towers near Mistwatch. I managed to pick the lock and slip out while the guard slept, but now I'm completely lost. Can you help me, please?"

“Sure,” said Marcurio. “You’re welcome to travel with us, we’re heading to Whiterun soon ourselves.”

She shook her head, “No, thank you, though. Just point me in the right direction. Please.”

“Alright, if you insist,” said Khalor. “Whiterun is due south of here. A few hours march that way.” He raised his arm and pointed in the right direction, and as he did the frightened woman let out a shriek of fear.

“By the Gods, that tattoo you have! You’re one of the bastards who did this to me!” She ran away from them as fast as she could, off into the tundra from where she came.

Khalor lowered his arm, and studied the tattoo again. He had almost forgotten it was there. An ‘M’ and a ‘W’ overlapping. “Uh, Marc... I think I finally have some answers....”



Entry #20


Dinner at the Bannered Mare was a quiet affair once again. Sort of. With all the rabble and the bard singing, it's never really quiet. But, Khalor and Marcurio weren't the liveliest duo in the tavern, that's for sure. They ate and drank in virtual silence while they each pondered on recent events. A Mistwatch bandit. It fit perfectly with what they had learned so far, but still left a multitude of unanswered questions.

It explained why Khalor was part of a raid on Riften, but not why he ended up left for dead. If he had such a high position at Mistwatch, what had he done to earn the fate he had now? These questions swirled around Khalor's head as he ate, and drowned out everything around him. Even Marcurio, who was trying to talk to him directly, could barely get through...

"Khalor, are you listening? Hello, Nirn to Khalor! Damn it, elf, snap out of it." Marc gave him a nudge on the shoulder. "Are you in there?"

"Oy, don't hit me. What's the matter?" said Khalor.

"We need to come up with a plan," said Marcurio. "We can't just charge into those towers, swords and magic blazin'. Neither of us are very well equipped, and that is going to be a tough nut to crack."

Khalor looked down at his leathers. Every piece seemed to be worn and frayed. It had been through a lot, and it was a wonder that it still held together. Evidently, he was somewhat of an expert leatherman. "That's all well and good but we don't have the supplies or the coin for anything better."

"I know. We may have to look into some work, while were here in Whiterun. Feel up for a bounty, or trying to get some work from the Companions?" asked Marcurio?

"I saw a bounty poster over by the bar. I'll asked the bar maiden about it in the morning. For now, I'm heading off to sleep."

Sleep did not come easy, though. His thoughts were dwelling on Mistwatch, as he drifted off to sleep. He'd spent much of the last day searching the deepest reaches of his mind for anything he could remember about the place, but came blank. Just like he always did. The memories he was reaching for finally did emerge in his dreams, though. Random images of tall towers, and blank faces flitted in and out of his mind while he slumbered, clearing up slightly as the night wore on. Memories of sitting around a table, feasting and drinking all night, and something else... a face he recalled from a prior dream. The face of a woman. Strong and beautiful, she had long brown hair, blue eyes, and a lightly colored war paint design across her face.

She reached across the table and grabbed his hand. Where are we going? asked Khalor, Her glowing gaze burned into his very being. To my bed chamber of course, my love. Before you drink too much of that mead... They got up from the table and walked up through the towers, up to the highest room. The door close behind them with a snap, and Khalor awoke from his dream with a start.



He laid in bed, fuming for a several seconds before he realized that the door to his room actually had closed. Someone is in here with me, thought Khalor. He slid his dagger out from under his pillow and waited with bated breath. Suddenly, the whole room was illuminated by a floating ball of the purest light. "Kahlor, wake up," said Marcurio. "We need to get out of here!"

"I'm up, I'm up. What's the matter?" asked Khalor.

"I think that woman ratted us out. I went out for a walk and overheard a couple of guards conversing about us. She must have came to Whiterun in the night, and told the guards about our encounter."

Khalor was up and ready in mere seconds. "Let's go. I was pardoned in Riften and presumed dead in Falkreath, but I doubt that matters, especially since they know I came from Mistwatch." They bolted down the stairs, and out the side door into the darkness. Guards were swirling about every which way, trying to corner them inside the tavern.

Marcurio reached into his bag and handed Khalor a potion. "Drink this, it will render you invisible."

"What about you?" said Khalor. "They'll know you're with me, now."

"I have a spell for that. Drink quickly."

As the two faded out of visibility, they began working their way down the outer wall, towards the main gate. As, expected though, the guards had cordoned off the exit. Thinking quickly, Marc grabbed Khalor's hand and pulled him through a nook to to a small storage cubby, just off the main gate. He motioned to go up and over, so one by one, they jumped up on a barrel and leaped over the wall, down onto the slopes outside the city.



Entry #21


They made camp just outside of Riverwood. Marc wanted to rent a room at the Sleeping Giant, but Khalor refused. "The man I escaped Helgen with is in this town, and I don't want to get caught up in that mess again. We can stop by the traders in the morning, but we're not hanging around for long." Marcurio agreed with a small nod, and they went to sleep for what was left of the night. It was almost midday when they emerged from their slumber, and packed up. Khalor headed for the smithy, while Marc visited the general goods store. Later on, they met back up outside of the village. "Anything good?" asked Khalor.

"Nothing worthwhile. I mostly sold potions for gold. What about you?"
"I learned a few new tricks on smithing from Alvor, and improved the fit of my leathers. But, I could still use a lot more training," said Khalor. "I think we should head back to Riften. It's the only place where we can put up lodgings without worry, while we make up a plan on how to tackle Mistwatch."
"Agreed. It's long walk, though. Are you up for it?"
"Not like we have any other options," said Khalor.

It was an uneventful journey through the Rift, and a few days later brought about their arrival in Riften. A peaceful day under a sunny, blue sky showed the marketplace, bustling like always, with the various vendors all trying to talk over one another. Marcurio made his way to the inn, and Khalor found a quiet place to sit and relax. It occurred to him after a few minutes that he felt....content. Riften was home, he reckoned. Then he began to wonder... Is Mistwatch worth the trouble? He now knew where he came from and what he was. Did he really need more than that? His journey's with Marc had been highly enjoyable, even with all the trouble they had gone through, and it felt good to help people along the way.



The sun began to set, so Khalor made his way to the inn. It was refreshing to enjoy himself with the other patrons, and not have a care for what went on around him. The two friends both enjoyed a bit too much mead, and much merriment ensued in the Bee and Barb that night. Khalor eventually stumbled up to bed and passed out from all the alcohol consumed. As he slept, the dreams began again. They started just the same way they had many nights ago with random, broken memories flitting in and out. But, before long, they took a stark turn in a different direction.

An otherworldly, yet distinctly feminine voice echoed into his mind, with a very ethereal tone. "You have come a long way since the events leading up to Helgen, Khalor. And you have persevered in ways I had not thought possible, but you still have darkness to cast out from your soul. The Elder Scroll you now carry helps to blot out that darkness, which is why I have chosen to commune with you. You are right to question whether or not the scourge of Mistwatch is worth dealing with....you know now who you were, and what you have become. Ask yourself this; is it worth throwing away all that you have achieved by seeking vengeance on that scum? For that path will only lead you back into the darkness that you have since emerged from. Follow your heart, Khalor, and do what you feel is right. Bear in mind, though, that I will always be watching from beyond the Twilight.

The voice faded out, along with his dreams, and Khalor slept more soundly than he had in ages.



Entry #22


Over breakfast, Khalor informed Marc of what he had been considering yesterday. "But, what of the scroll and recovering your memories? We went through hell to get that thing," said Marcurio.

"That we did, and I still intend to return the lexicon to Septimus, too. After that, well, I don't know. But, I really do feel that the past is best left forgotten."

Marc sighed, "If that's what you wish. What brought on this change, if I may ask?"
"Mostly just being back in Riften, Marc. It's home and I feel content here, which made me think more about what we were considering. Would I even have found what we were looking for at Mistwatch? Or would it just have been an act of vengeance. Things have turned around for me so much, since I arrived here and it occurred to me that I'm content, with the way things are. Also, it helps when Azura pops into your dreams and confirms just that."

Marc spit out his water, "What?! Azura spoke to you in a dream?! You should probably START with that next time, you bloody elf!"
Khalor grinned, "Now where's the fun in that? So, I take it your on board?"
"It's your life, friend. If it's the path you choose to follow, I'll respect that decision. But, where do you plan on going with this next? A visit to the Lady's shrine isn't a bad idea, you know."

"True, but all in good time." Khalor explained to Marc the reason she had chosen to visit him last night. "I'm on the right track, but I still have more to do with clearing my name. And my conscience." Knowing what came next, Khalor paused for a moment. "We have to go our separate ways for a while."

"I knew you were going to say that," said Marcurio. "Might I ask why, though?"
"I leave for Falkreath, tomorrow morning. I intend to pay my penance, for what I did in that city, and I don't want you caught up in it with me.
"How, though?" asked Marcurio. "Do they not believe you to be dead? I thought Laila wrapped that up for you?"
"I'll speak to her about it once I head out for the day. I think she'll understand. Afterwards, If your up for it, a journey into the Ratway is in order."

"Come again? The Ratway? Why in divines name do you want to go down there?" asked Marcurio. "It's nothing but a cesspool of muck and thievery."
"I'm looking for this rumored 'face sculptor'. Way I see it, if she can change your appearance, she can remove a simple tattoo," said Kahlor, with a wink.



Entry #23


Khalor's conversation with Laila, wasn't pleasant, but she did understand. She drafted a letter and gave it to a courier bound for Falkreath, and instructed Khalor to wait a few days before heading out. He would be met in Falkreath by a Riften guard, to ease Falkreath's citizens and the Jarl on his arrival. Laila wished him luck, and dismissed him curtly. No doubt this would make her look bad in Sidgeir's eyes, but Khalor felt that the worm of a Jarl didn't have enough pull for it to matter anyway.

Heading back to the inn, Khalor found Marc ready and waiting. The Ratway was their next stop, as soon as they could find the entrance. They approached Maul, the large fellow Khalor met upon his first arrival, many weeks ago, and asked him here the entrance was. He was hesitant, at first, but waving a sack of gold in ones face can change their mind right quick. So, they headed down to the lower walkway, and through the southern door...

"Ratway, schmatway," said Khalor. "I don't get it, why is everyone afraid of this place? We just strode through that like it was nothing."
"Most people that come down here, aren't seasoned mages/adventurers," Marc answered. "They're usually folks who don't know any better, and end up getting mugged by the lowlifes. Now, before we head in to the Flagon, let's get out story straight."
"We don't need a story, Marc. I'm here for the sculptor, I don't give a skeever's ass about the Thieves Guild."
"We still have to get past that bouncer," said Marcurio. "And charging past isn't going to work, especially since we don't know where the sculptor is in there."

Khalor nodded in agreement, and they decided on a plan of action. They approached the man at the entrance and went for the honesty approach. His name was Dirge, and luckily, he heard them out, pointing to where she sat. Khalor was not expecting to find an Altmer woman down in this sewer, but he asked her about the tattoo anyway.

One thousand Septims and a some considerable pain later, Khalor's only tie to Mistwatch was finally severed.



Entry #24


Early the next morning, Khalor and Marcurio went their separate ways. Khalor was met with a bright, sunny day under clear blue skies as he exited the inn. He decided to walk trek to Falkreath, rather than take a carriage, so that he could grab his belongings from the shack he stumbled into just outside of Ivarstead. It was a long time since he was last there, so hopefully nothing was missing.

He grabbed a bounty on the way out for a nearby Spriggan den, and decided the extra gold couldn't hurt. Checking his map, Khalor found that Autumnshade Clearing was on the northern side of the lake, so that's where he headed. It wasn't a long journey and he soon made short work of the mysterious creature and the animals it had enthralled. Avoiding a large ruined fort, he made his way back down to the shore line of the river, and continued on his westward trek.

As dusk approached, he spotted another ruined fort, but this time there was smoke from a campfire of sorts, on the nearby shore. Khalor approached the campsite to find 3 men sitting around it.

One of the men saw him approach, and stood up to greet him, "Are you here to help?"
"That depends. What are you doing out here?" asked Khalor.
"Waiting for reinforcements! I was expecting more though, you'd better be good."
"Why should I help you, though?"

The man sighed and told him why they were out here, "We left to help with the war and these filth bags swooped in and seized the place. My family is in there. I suspect Brurid planned this, there's been bad blood between us since the king's death. But to invade my home, kidnap my family..."

"What about a reward?"
"My family is everything to me. Clear the fort and on top of the posted reward you can have whatever items you'd like."
"That's all well and good, but do you have a plan? Other than letting me go in there and do all the dirty work?" said Khalor.
"The front gate is locked so you'll need to use the mine entrance behind us. Open the front gate and we'll try and give you some support. I wish we could offer more help, but our last attack went sour and we're all that is left. Good luck."

Khalor rested for a moment, before heading inside. I have a bad feeling about this, he thought. I wish Marc was here... He emerged into the depths of the fort into a small storeroom. He could hear voices at the top of a the nearby stairs. Peering around the corner, he spotted three bandits milling about. They were standing directly underneath an oil lamp. Khalor grinned, readied his bow, and loosed an arrow into it and watched as they ensuing ball of fire engulfed the bandits, quickly dispatching them.

A fourth bandit dashed out of a nearby room, and Khalor met him with his sword at the ready, making short work of him. He checked the nearby containers for anything of worth before moving down the next hallway. Ascending another flight of stairs, he spotted a bandit working over a forge...with his back to Khalor. A swift arrow ended the threat, and Khalor continued on. The next room has three corpses pile up in it. I wonder if this is Stalleo's family? I hope not, for his sake, thought Khalor.

Khalor went through the adjacent door and into the heart of Treva's Watch. Two more nearby bandits met a swift end, before he continued on into a hallway. Space was tight here, so he swung his bow onto his back, and readied his sword and shield. Khalor crept forward at a slow pace, and glanced into the first bedroom he found. Two more bandits where in there, and stealth was not an option in the narrow corridor, so he charged in and engaged the two of them head on.

This, as it turns out, was a big mistake. Four other bandits in a nearby chamber heard the ruckus, and Khalor had only felled one by the time they arrived. He spun around to engage them, but it wasn't long before everything went dark.



Entry #25


Heed this vision, young elf.

Khalor awoke with a start and immediately checked to see where he was. The cacophony he heard coming from somewhere below eased his mind and he realized he was still in bed at The Bee and Barb. He lowered his head back down onto his pillow and stared at the ceiling. That had been such a vivid dream. Unlike anything else he had experienced before, and he started to wonder if it even was a dream at all. Then it hit him....the voice he heard just before he woke. Azura, thought Khalor. I really need to pay her shrine a visit. Turning back over, he dozed off again, with a much more relaxed feeling.

Early the next morning, Khalor and Marcurio went their separate ways. Khalor was met with a bright, sunny day under clear blue skies as he exited the inn. He decided to walk trek to Falkreath, rather than take a carriage, so that he could grab his belongings from the shack he stumbled into just outside of Ivarstead. It was a long time since he was last there, so hopefully nothing was missing. This time, though, he ignored the bounty poster he saw, and headed out the southern gate, intent on following the main road to Ivarstead.

Along the way, Khalor gathered a lot of plants and insects. Seeing the usefulness of Marc's potions, he'd decided to start learning the craft himself. Once he got out of jail, that is.

He arrived in Ivarstead just as the sun began to set. I couldn't have timed that any more perfectly , thought Khalor. The Vilemyr Inn was open, and that suited Khalor just fine. He could grab a bite to eat and maybe a few ale's too, before heading off to bed. It was fairly quiet in the inn, except for the bard performing by the fire. She was an exceptionally good looking bard, too, and Khalor couldn't help but stare. A couple hours later, he decided it'd be wise to rent a room while he still could count his coins out. Then he turned back towards the fire...and the bard.

Deciding it was time to enjoy life a little more, he went up and introduced himself to her. Her name was Lynly Star-Sung and he offered to buy her a drink, which she graciously accepted. The two hit it off and talked well into the night, pouring many drinks along the way. And when it came time for bed, Lynly agreed with Khalor that it would be a good idea to head into his room together.

If only there was a door to his room....Oh well.



Entry #26

The sun rose over Ivarstead for everyone but Khalor, who was still sound asleep in his rented bed. Once he finally woke up, he noticed that Lynly was gone, and gathered his things up to head out. She wasn't around the bar, and Wilhelm hadn't seen her yet, either. Shaking his head, Khalor headed out into the morning. A short hike later found him back in the shack he thought would be home. The ingredients he had left in the nightstand were all still there, and he decided to mix some potions for the road, before he continued on. The journey to Falkreath was uneventful and he met up with the Riften Guard just outside the walls. "You ready, elf?"

"Aye, I'm ready. Where is the Falkreath jail?" asked Khalor.
"It's in the guard barracks, but we'll have to go see the Jarl first. Slimy git."
Khalor laughed, "I'm glad I'm not the only one who thinks that!"
"He has a reputation. Now, come on."

They headed into Jarl's Longhouse so that Khalor could turn himself in. Helvard kept a close watch in him as he communed with Siddgeir and soon Khalor was being escorted to the barracks, to serve his sentence. Before he left the longhouse, Siddgeir hailed him down, "When you get released, come and see me again. I have work for you to do, too." Khalor nodded, and exited with Helvard.

The jail was dark and dank, with only a small hay pile to sleep on. Khalor would be here for seven days, so settled down and got as comfortable as he could. The guards made occasional conversation with him, remarking that he didn't seem to be the bad person he was made out to be, but he could tell they were still salty about their comrade being slain by him. "Finish your sentence and help the Jarl. Maybe then, we'll be more cordial with you, elf."

"Fair enough," said Khalor. "How many more days do I have left?"
"Just two."


Two days later, Khalor walked out of the barracks a free man. Now he just had Whiterun to worry about, if anything even came from it. Feeling hungry, he stopped by the inn for a proper meal, before heading to see the Jarl. It seems that everyone had either forgotten or forgiven him, because no one in town made mention of him. Finding that odd, Khalor made his way to the longhouse. Siddgeir was waiting for him, "there's a group of bandits in my Hold that I... may have had a few discreet dealings with. The cut they were giving me was good at first, but now it's time to clean things up. Go and take care of it."

"I'll take care of it, sir."
"Good. Begone, then."

Khalor bowed, and headed back out into Falkreath.



Entry# 27


Khalor stopped by the local trader to unload some junk before he headed out to deal with the bandits. Gray Pine Goods was on the outskirts of town, right across from the inn. As he walked through the door a brute of a Nord said something rude about him, but the proprietor Solaf, seemed a decent man. They haggled for a few minutes over various goods, and when they were done Khalor asked him if he knew of his target.

"Aye, Embershard Mine is on the border northern border of Falkreath and Whiterun. Closer to Riverwood than here, actually," said Solaf.

Khalor frowned. "Hopefully not too close to Riverwood. I don't need tangled up in some silly civil war." Solaf gave him a questioning look, but Khalor told him not to worry about it, and left for the road. Falkreath was almost as pretty as Riften, and the clear day made for an enjoyable walk. He felt good knowing that his name was clear in Falkreath, and that the last step was checking in on Whiterun. Hopefully they'd given up on finding him there, but even then, the tattoo to identify him was gone.

The sun was setting as Khalor rounded the bend and spotted the path leading up to the mine entrance. A lone bandit guard was posted outside and he didn't see Khalor as he crept up the path. A well placed arrow cleared the way for him to enter and after checking that he had everything he needed, he continued on in. The first cavern was filled with water and had two bridges across it, with one being raised up. Khalor moved forward but quickly stopped when he heard voices coming from his right. They didn't seem to know that he was there, because one of them started mining, while the other one rambled on about some 'brat'.

Khalor was at the advantage here, because they had to climb a small staircase and cross a bridge to get to him. His first loosed arrow found it's mark in the mining bandits back, and the second one quickly followed suit. Moving onward, he spotted a lever through the natural window in the rock wall, and headed up there. The second bridge lowered with a thud that alerted some other bandits, forcing Khalor to engage them with his sword and shield, instead of bow. They weren't ready for the experienced adventurer that Khalor has become and fell quickly to his blade. Another bandit guarding a large chest was felled as the Bosmer silently slid through the mine, to the final open air chamber.

He hid in the shadows for a few minutes, watching their paces and habits. Once he was sure, he started firing arrows in quick succession. Before long, all the bandits lay dead, with their plunder ripe for the taking. "Well, that was easy enough," said Kahlor to one in particular. "I guess it's time to head back." He spotted a path leading under the waterfall and followed it out. "A rear entrance....that would have been helpful to know before." It was now dark outside and Khalor could barely see under the pitch darkness of the night. A faint glow off to the north east told him he must be near Riverwood. I guess there's nothing else for it, thought Khalor.



Entry #28


The door shut with a snap, as Khalor entered the Sleeping Giant Inn. He gazed around the room, taking in who was present. He didn't see Ralof anywhere, and that suited him just fine. The innkeeper was up near the bar, brooming the floor aimlessly. Khalor opted for bed, rather than pouring down a few drinks, so he asked about renting a room.

"You're that visitor, been pokin' around," said Delphine. She offered a room behind him, and told him to see Orgnar if he was feeling peckish. Khalor resigned to not eating in the hopes of leaving Riverwood as quickly as possible. He got his wish, too, managing to wake up before the sun even broke. Gathering his supplies, Khalor quickly made his way out the southern road, back towards Falkreath and it's sticky Jarl. Thank the gods for that, thought Khalor. I want nothing to do with that war or anymore dragons. It was a dreary hike back to the south hold, as the rain came down in a consistent drizzle, soaking everything through. That didn't stop the local game from being out, though, and Khalor snagged a couple deer pelts on his way through.

It was well into the afternoon, when he finally arrived back in Falkreath and the rain still continued to fall. Electing to turn in the bounty first, Khalor headed for the longhouse and it's Jarl. Siddgeir thanked him with a decent sum and offered him some more work, and the right to a plot of land, if he so chose. "Perhaps later, Jarl. I'm not interested in laying down roots, at this time," said Khalor.

"Very well. If you change your mind, come back and talk to my Steward."

Exiting the longhouse brought a pleasant surprise. The clouds had finally broke, and the beautiful yellow sun was beaming down on the small village, with a steamy mist rising up off the ground. Khalor sat on the step for a moment, just to take in the beauty. As he sat, it occurred to him for the first time that nothing was tying him down. He had no bounties on him, and he had cut all ties from his past. "Hmm, what to do next," he wondered aloud. His mind returned to Riften, and it's surrounding country. Deciding that was the place he still wanted to be, Khalor readied himself for the road, and started his journey anew.

This time, though, heading for Whiterun and it's much closer carriage. He'd walked long enough recently, and this would save him a lot more walking. Solaf told him of a longer, less direct route to take, to avoid Riverwood again, but it involved swimming across a large lake just to the north, and bit of cave exploring. Khalor didn't mind, though, since it was still a better alternative.

Darkness fell as he came across a ruined tower near the lake shore. It's single occupant was a necromancer, but she didn't put up much of a fight. Khalor slung her body over the edge of the tower and hunkered down for the night in his makeshift camp. The next morning brought more sunlight and warmth, so Khalor decided a bath was in order, since he had to swim across the lake anyway. The water was cool and refreshing, and it wasn't until he saw the grime floating around him that he realized just how filthy he had been. I need to remember to do this more often, thought Khalor.



Entry #29


The swim across the lake was uneventful, and Khalor soon stood at the mouth of a Brittleshin Pass. It was a cave that stretched through the mountain and out on to the grassy plains of Whiterun. He ventured inside dispatching the odd, creaky skeletons that were guarding the place, as he made his way deeper in. As Khalor crept down a flight of stairs and darted around the bend, he spotted a robed figure across the room, atop a small set of stairs. The undead throughout the cave indicated that this was a Necromancer of sort, and that Khalor would likely encounter more of the walking dead throughout the caves.

Deciding that a sneak attack was his best option, he nocked an arrow to his bow, and let it fly. It's release was swift and true, burying itself just below the mage's neck, dropping him to the floor. The remaining skeletons in the room quickly turned in Khalor's direction, but his sword made short work of them. He gathered up what valuable items that interested him and continued on. In an antechamber just off of the altar room, a large, unlocked chest awaited him, tucked away in a small nook. He opened it up, and found a strange, white, pockmarked orb sitting on top of everything else. Khalor reached for it, intending to toss it off to the side, but the moment his fingers clasped around it, a booming voice echoed through the chamber.

"A NEW HAND TOUCHES THE BEACON." Khalor, dropped the orb in surprise and stumbled back onto the seat of his pants. The voice continued on, "LISTEN. HEAR ME AND OBEY. A FOUL DARKNESS HAS SEEPED INTO MY TEMPLE. A DARKNESS THAT YOU WILL DESTROY. RETURN MY BEACON TO MOUNT KILKREATH. AND I WILL MAKE YOU THE INSTRUMENT OF MY CLEANSING LIGHT."

And then....stillness. Khalor sat on the floor staring mystified at the chest. "[censored]. What have I gotten myself into now...." He rose back up to his feet and glanced inside the chest, but the orb was gone. "Huh. I wonder where it went," he said aloud. It definitely wasn't there anymore, as he dug through the contents of the chest, gathering up the gold and few gems. As he began to stow the valuables in his pack, he felt something out of place. The beacon. It had gotten in his pack on it's own somehow. He pulled it out, shoved it in the chest and quickly shut the lid with a snap. Khalor backed up a few paces and checked his pack, only to find the beacon there once again. Great. Just...great, thought Khalor.

Nothing Khalor did would make it go away. He lobbed it down a flight of stairs, tried to burn it with a spell, even locking it in one of the cages back in the altar room. Each time, it ended up back in his pack within seconds. Finally, after at least half an hour of fruitless attempts at disposing of the beacon, he gave up and continued through the cave. I'll get to it when I'm ready, thought Khalor. Daft woman can wait a while longer.


Shortly afterwards, the Bosmer exited the cave's northern point of ingress and emerged back out into the midday sun. The vast plains stretched as far as he could see, with a single lonely mountain at it's center. A dirt path beneath his feet ran down towards the main road, and soon Khalor was heading east towards Whiterun at a decent pace. Only the occasional wolf or two served any kind of threat, which allowed him to quickly come into sight of the city. It rose up a small mountain, with several structures rising ever higher towards a large palace that dominated the northeastern skyline. Khalor briefly stared in awe at it's sheer height, before continuing on towards the stables.

A carriage and it's driver sat ready to go, wherever Khalor paid him to. "I can take you to any of the hold capitals." Khalor handed him twenty gold pieces and they were soon underway, bound for Riften.

_____________

More to come!


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Acadian
post Nov 8 2016, 08:38 PM
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Welcome to our world of fan fiction at chorrol! My goodness, you've given us a lot to digest here. I'm going to pick away this - reading a handful of entries at a time. I'm up through entry 5 now and enjoying Khalor's mysterious background so far. I'll comment again when I'm caught up. smile.gif


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post Nov 8 2016, 09:39 PM
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Yeah, I know its quite a large story dump. Khalor's story started in early June with only the occasional break.


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post Nov 10 2016, 04:09 PM
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Entry#30



It felt good to be back on the road with Marcurio. The two friends had no plan on what they wanted to do next, but they found that that suited them quite well, for the time being. All of Skyrim was open to them, and for now Khalor just wanted to see it all without worry. They stopped at Shor’s Stone for the night and were sitting around the campfire with the others when Khalor made up his mind. He turned to Marc, “What do you think about Solitude?”

“I think its large city, way up North,” Marc replied, sarcastically. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, don’t be a wise ass. I’d very much like to see it, and as we’ve got nothing else going on, I say we might as well head up there.”

“That’s all well and good, but what prompted your desire to see it?”

“While I was serving my sentence in Falkreath, the guards gave me a book to read to pass the time. ‘Skyrim’s Rule’ it was called, and it told of the politics and hierarchy of Skyrim. Normally, I probably wouldn’t trouble myself with these kinds of things, but I find myself wanting to visit the Capital and see its grand palace.”

“I supposed it’s better than wandering aimlessly. Just don’t expect to meet the High King.”

“....How come?” asked Khalor. Marc stared him, mouth agape. “Because he’s dead. Dammit, elf, did you really not know that? It’s the whole reason that this pointless war is tearing Skyrim asunder!”

“Hm, I guess I never asked about it. That Ralof bloke tried to recruit me to the Stormcloaks after Helgen, and I’ve avoided him ever since. I never bothered to learn the details of the war, and it’s not like remembered that from before.”

“Aye, you’re right, I suppose. We can talk about it once were on the road again. I’m off to bed now. See you on the morrow, Khalor.”

He headed inside, leaving Khalor to tend the flames with the other miners. They were a cheery lot, and still quite grateful that they cleared the mine out for them all those days ago. They’d apparently struck some new veins, and the guards had taken measures to keep an infestation like that from happening again. Even Filnjar came down to shoot the breeze with them, which was a rarity according to the others. It was a merry night of drinking and they were awake late into the night, before Khalor had that one drink too many. The others chuckled as he fell backward onto the grass and began snoring away.



Dawn broke over the Rift with a brilliant orange light filling the sky, as it shone down upon Shor’s Stone and a Bosmer, laying under a blanket of furs. Khalor started to stir and groggily opened his eyes. “Gods, I need to learn my limits,” said Khalor, as the drums pounded away inside his head. “Oh, your awake now, are you?” said a voice from nearby. He propped himself up and looked around. Marc was roasting some venison over the flames, with a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Feeling hungry? C’mon let’s eat, before we hit the road.

Khalor roused himself and stumbled over to the seat next to Marcurio. “Why in blazes did they leave me out here? I’m lucky a bear didn’t drag me off into the night.”

Marc chuckled, “You weren’t the only one who was inebriated last night, friend. The others were toasted, too, and couldn’t get you to budge from your new bed on the ground.”

“Oh well,” said Kahlor. “S’pose it’s my own damn fault anyway. Is that meat done cooking?”

“Sure is, go ahead and eat. I had my fill already, so I’ll get our gear together in the meantime. Stop over and see Sylgja, too, before we head out. She mentioned something about doing her a favor.”

Not much later, the duo was back on the road, with a satchel full of notes for Sylgja’s family in Darkwater Crossing. They continued south on the road until they hit the fork at the foot of Eastmarch. They turned westward towards Whiterun. “Darkwater is just off the road, about half a day’s walk,” said Marc. “We might stop there for the day, depending on how long it actually takes us.” Khalor nodded, eager to get underway. As the two friends journeyed, Marcurio gave him a proper explanation of the civil war that Skyrim was up to its neck in, and what started it all. He was telling Khalor of the ‘duel’ in the Blue Palace, when the elf stopped dead in his tracks.

“What is it, Khalor? You look like you’ve seen a ghost....” Khalor said nothing at first, but continued to stare down the cliff side at the stone towers rising up from it’s base. He eventually broke the silence, “That’s Mistwatch. I know it is.”

“That it is,” sighed Marc. Khalor said nothing, but Marcurio could practically hear his friend’s brain churning. “You don’t want to go in there, don't you?” said Marc. Khalor nodded. “I do. But, not in the way your thinking. Let’s head down there, I’ll explain on the way.”



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Acadian
post Nov 10 2016, 06:06 PM
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Okay, still not quite caught up yet but have read up through entry 20 and am enjoying Khalor's mystery.

'Tis an interesting perspective to open his background with memory loss and fill the reader in gradually – even as he begins to learn who he is. Escape from Helgen and Falkreath, then some answers from Jarl Laila of Riften – and a pardon of sorts.

Off to the College but, en route, even Azura cannot help. Nor could Urag at the Arcanium (very much). Septimus and Mora? *shivers*

And finally some answers from his own tatoo – MistWatch.

Eeep! ohmy.gif A harrowing escape from Whiterun. To be continued. . . .


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Kane
post Nov 11 2016, 02:01 PM
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Thanks, kind sir. smile.gif I'm looking to dive into some of the stories here at Chorrol, but I never know where to start. So many choices! ohmy.gif


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Acadian
post Nov 12 2016, 11:26 PM
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It was in reading entries 21-30 that I learned Khalor is an elf – and Bosmer at that!

Azura finally came through! She is not one to ignore a plea for help. goodjob.gif

I thought about the face sculpter as soon as the nature of Khalor’s history came out – I’m glad he thought of it too. Ahah – just had the tat removed.

Lynly Star-Sung along in his room. . . with no door! kvleft.gif

Carving a path through southern Skyrim and . . . Meridia! I chuckled over his attempts to get rid of her orb thing.

Back with his buddy Marc as they head (sort of) for Solitude. Uh oh. . . Mistwatch. . . . ohmy.gif

*

As far as reading other writers, naturally I’d recommend starting with someone who is reading your story – me. biggrin.gif

Specifically, I’d go to my sub forum here at chorrol (link in my siggie). Because Buffy’s fiction is so voluminous, I’d read the Executive Summary. In about 15 minutes that will catch you up through Book 1 and parts 1-3 of Book 2. Then join us in the main fanfic forum here in Book 2 starting at the beginning of Part 4 (Episode 19 / post 174). That gives you only two full episodes to read (and mine are not long) to be current. I figure that way you could be right up to speed with us in under an hour or so. smile.gif


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post Nov 14 2016, 03:09 PM
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QUOTE(Acadian @ Nov 12 2016, 05:26 PM) *

As far as reading other writers, naturally I’d recommend starting with someone who is reading your story – me. biggrin.gif

Specifically, I’d go to my sub forum here at chorrol (link in my siggie). Because Buffy’s fiction is so voluminous, I’d read the Executive Summary. In about 15 minutes that will catch you up through Book 1 and parts 1-3 of Book 2. Then join us in the main fanfic forum here in Book 2 starting at the beginning of Part 4 (Episode 19 / post 174). That gives you only two full episodes to read (and mine are not long) to be current. I figure that way you could be right up to speed with us in under an hour or so. smile.gif

Sounds like a plan!


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post Nov 16 2016, 04:55 PM
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Entry #31

They crept slowly down the dirt path towards the Keep’s exterior gate. Several bandits patrolled the courtyard, and a stealthy ingress of the towers did not seem possible without first removing this guard group. Khalor and Marc’s coordinated surprise attack of bow and magic quickly confused and overwhelmed the outmatched patrol, and they soon lay dead throughout the courtyard. After dragging the bodies out of sight, the two friends readied for the real challenge. As Marc unsheathed his dagger, Khalor stayed his hand, “I need you to wait out here on this one, friend.”

“Are you mad? What, you plan on waging a one elf war against all these brutes?”
“No, I plan on slipping through, undetected, actually,” said Khalor. “If I play this right, I won’t have to fight a single one of them. This isn’t a revenge mission, Marc. I just need information.”

Marcurio sighed, “You’re the most infuriating elf I’ve ever met. I can’t in good conscious let you embark on such a fool’s errand, even if you do have the means to infiltrate this place. One false step could lead to hordes of bandits closing in on you.”

“Well, if that would happen, I’d still have one last ditch hope.... Some of them may yet recognize me.” With that, Khalor spun around and headed in through the door, leaving a trouble Marc to anxiously wait outside.



The lowest level of the keep arraignment was dark and damp, but there didn’t seem to be any denizens watching the front door. Creeping forward towards the next chamber, even Khalor’s light footfalls echoed through the hall. He cursed under his breath, and readied his muffle spell, but not before a voice rang out from a side room. "Hey, who's there? You - over here, quick. Before any of them show up!" Khalor sighed, and entered the dimly lit room.

“Who are you?” asked Khalor.

“Christer. Stendarr's mercy - you aren't one of them. Please, you've got to help me!"

“With what? What are you even doing in here? This place is crawling with bandits, and is not the place for a farmer.

"It's my wife, Fjola! I think she's being held in this tower. Let me explain. Fjola, my wife, left the farm on errands and never came back. It's been months, and I've been searching for her since. I heard a rumor that these bandits were ransoming captives, so I thought she may be here. I managed to sneak past the guards and get this far, but... I don't think I can go on. I'm no warrior! Please, can you look for her?"

Khalor paused, and mulled over the request. This wasn’t what he was here for, and it added another layer of danger to his endeavor. But, his subconscious played at his thoughts, and made him wonder if he could be responsible for this in some way. Nearly a minute had passed before Khalor responded. “Very well, I’ll look for her on my way up. Just stay here, or head outside and join my friend.”

"Thank you! I don't have much, but I can give you some coin for the trouble. One of the guards dropped this key while I hid. I wager it will come in handy for you. Please hurry!"

The Bosmer pocketed the key, nodded in assent and began his infiltration once again. This time, though, with a muffle spell cast on himself. Only two bandits were patrolling the upper floor, and Khalor bypassed them with ease, heading up through a trap door to an outside balcony. The sun was setting as he emerged out into the cool, crisp evening. A good view of the land below him offered a bit of solace, as he could plainly see Marc pacing back and forth in the courtyard. Wanting to ease his friends mind, Khalor retrieved a piece of charcoal and a small slip of parchment from his waist pouch. On it he scrawled a quick note, before wrapping it tightly around an arrow shaft and binding it with a bit of rope. He fired the arrow into the earth near Marcurio and headed into the western tower.

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

Back down in the courtyard, Marc started with a fright as the arrow zoomed into the ground near his feet. He spotted the parchment bound to it, and yanked it from the dirt, unraveling the short message.

Marc,
Made it through the first tower. Not many bandit’s yet. Found a poor sod looking for his wife, and agreed to help him. I’ll keep sending these notes as I work my way to the top.
Kahlor

“Well, that was kind of him,” Marc said aloud. “He’s still a git, but at least he’s somewhat considerate.”

Entry #32


The western tower smelt of death. A reeking odor filled the around Khalor as he sneaked through the door, and down the curved corridor. He could hear two more bandits pacing back and forth, incessantly rambling on about their lives. Further in, he found where the acrid smell was coming from. A dead woman lie in a heap in a cell on his left, with blood spattered shackles hanging on the wall behind her. The note on the table nearby indicated that she went down fighting, having not been pleased with her abduction. What a shame, thought Khalor. At least she gave them something to think about.

He continued on, and soon found himself at the base of a curved stairway, complete with patrolling bandits. Khalor peered around the corner to get a handle on the situation, and noted that the first one seemed to be walking up and down aimlessly. A discreet knife thrust handled him, but the second bandit turned at an unfortunate time. He spotted the elf, and drew the long greatsword from his back, charging down the stairs. Khalor strafed out of the way of the oafs swing, and buried his poison laced dagger into his back, ending the fight. Luckily, the other two bandits below heard nothing, and Khalor headed up the stairs, down the hall, and out onto the next balcony.

It was now fully dark out, and Khalor could no longer see where Marc was. He scribbled another progress note, and loosed it down to the surface, before heading into the eastern tower. A curious sensation filled Khalor as he walked the curved hall of this tower, glancing here and there. He had the same feeling of familiarity that grabbed him on the road above, as he had gazed down at the Mistwatch Towers. This time though, it was a much more powerful feeling of deja vu, and it hearkened his mind back to the dream he had many days ago. Could this be....


Khalor's thoughts were interrupted as an armor clad women walked out of the towers central room and turned to face him, "All right, snowback. Who are you, and what are you doing in my tower?"

He stared intently at her face, and he knew without a doubt, that it was the face from his dream. The face that beckoned him into a room, with the promise of a long night filled with passionate sex. Khalor lowered his hood, "I think you know exactly who I am. And I would assume that you are Fjola."

Her face paled," You.... No. This can't be. They assured me you were dead. That I would never see or hear from your treacherous hide again! How is this possible? And why do you assume? You know damn well who I am."

"I do know who you are, but only just. Your crew did quite a number on me, even if they didn't finish the job. The result is me standing here with only hazy memories of you, and everything else before has been forgotten," said Khalor. "I may have lived, but I remember next to nothing of my life before then, thanks to you."

Fjola spit on the ground. "You deserve worse than this, turncoat."

"That's the second time you called me a traitor," said Khalor. "Why is that?"

"Because that's exactly what you became. After our raid in Riften, I could tell something had changed in you, and my suspicions were correct when I found a note hidden in your belongings. You were going to sell us out to the Jarl and her men."

This surprised Khalor. Evidently, he'd had his change of heart before he was left for dead, and in fact, was the reason he was here now, as the enemy of the bandits he once helped to lead. It was also why his love interest had ordered him to be executed. A warm surge of emotion filled Khalor's soul as the last remnants of darkness finally filtered out, and the words of Azura echoed in his head. Ask yourself this; is it worth throwing away all that you have achieved by seeking vengeance on that scum? For that path will only lead you back into the darkness that you have since emerged from.

He took a deep breath, and continued, "I have no interest in you, or this life any longer. But, your husband, Christer, is downstairs. He tracked you here on rumors of Mistwatch's foul deeds, and hopes you are here."

"Christer? He's here? I left that old scab a long time ago. I have no need for that man, and I'd die before I went back."

Khalor sheathed his blade, "It's your call." As he turned to leave, Fjola drew her weapon behind him. Turning around, the long Dwemer blade shown brightly under the torchlight. "You're not leaving here alive, elf. I'll see to that end myself. Nobody betrays me like you have, and lives to tell the tale."

She darted forward as Khalor drew his elven longsword, and the two blades locked furiously in combat. The duel raged back and forth for long minutes, with each of them trading blows and parrying thrusts. Khalor was at a disadvantage in his leather armor, which was being torn to pieces as his sword blows glanced harmlessly off Fjola's plated steel armor. He shook off a ruined bracer and pressed on, until she drove her sword into his side. Khalor gasped in shock at the ungodly pain and warm sensation spreading across his stomach. As he dropped his sword to the ground, his enemy withdrew her blade and pushed him to the ground, ready to deliver the final blow. But, Khalor had one last trick up his sleeve, and as Fjola crouched down to slit his throat, he plunged his trusty dagger into her neck.

As his forlorn lover fell backwards in death, Khalor used what strength he had left to cast a burst of healing. It was enough to let him crawl towards the balcony door, leaving a smearing trail of blood in his wake. Pushing his way outside, he once again wrote a hasty note and fired it all the way down to the courtyard, before falling unconscious.

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

Marcurio was sitting around a makeshift campsite when another arrow buried itself in the earth nearby. With a gasp of shock, he unwound the blood spattered note,

Need help. Highest balcony.

"Bloody hell!" shouted Marc, as he grabbed his gear and bolted inside the keep.


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Acadian
post Nov 16 2016, 09:10 PM
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Khalor ventures solo into Mistwatch in search of answers. Very clever to shoot notes down to his waiting mage pal.

Well, he got his answers and tried to walk away. Fjola had differing plans though as she eventually learned why he used to be the boss of this band of baddies.

Interesting that it seems Khalor indeed had his change of heart and turned away from the dark side of the Force before he lost his memory. In fact his change of heart led to his memory loss.

It speaks highly of Marc that he immediately raced into the unknown danger of the fort without regard for what he might be running into.

I'm hoping if Khalor survives, he perhaps doesn't tell Fjola's farmboy the whole truth.

This post has been edited by Acadian: Nov 16 2016, 09:12 PM


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Kane
post Nov 17 2016, 05:00 PM
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He needed the closure. smile.gif I had intended on walking right past, but he said otherwise. nono.gif

(Bee the dub, the Buffy summary is nifty. I'm working my way through the Cloud Dancers, now!)


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post Nov 18 2016, 05:04 PM
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Entry #33


As the door shut behind him, Marc dropped into a crouch and headed inwards. Much to his surprise, he was hailed down by a farmer, just before moving onto the next chamber. Marc questioned him about why he was here and discovered that this was the man Khalor had agreed to help. "Stay here, Khalor is in trouble. Hopefully, we will see you on the way out." Before continuing, he cast his invisibility and muffle spells to avoid detection from any of the lingering bandits. Progress is easy when one is nigh undetectable, and Marcurio was soon climbing the last set of stairs up to the eastern tower's balcony.

Marc stepped out into the moonlit stone to find his elven friend lying in a pool of his own crimson blood. He rushed over to his side to check his vitals. "By the Eight, he's still alive...." But, it still looked bleak for Khalor, who was cold to the touch and still oozing blood from the wound on his side. Marcurio propped his head up and poured a strong healing potion down his throat, and began casting his healing spells. The wound began to bind, and the color drained back into his face, but Khalor remained unconscious for the time being.

Having done all that he could, Marc began setting up a campsite on the balcony for them. He headed into the tower to look for supplies, and was taken aback but what he saw inside. The floors were bathed in blood from the fight between his friend, and the mysterious bandit woman. Shocked at the sight of it all, he wondered how this much blood could be shed by two people, and realized how close to death Khalor actually was. He knelt down beside Fjola and pulled the dagger from her neck. "That elf's luck never ceases to amaze me." Further in, he found decent living quarters complete with food and supplies. I need to bring him in here, thought Marc. He'll rest far more comfortably on one of these beds.

Once he had his friend resting in the warmth of the tower, he cast a few runes by the door and in the hallway, in case any bandits got nosy. Afterwards, Marcurio returned to the living quarters, said a prayer to Mara and Stendarr before retiring to bed himself.


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ghastley
post Nov 18 2016, 05:20 PM
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I'm now expecting Khalor to wake with a fresh loss of memory, from the new trauma. ohmy.gif


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post Nov 18 2016, 11:27 PM
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Neat that you're quickly catching up with Buffy - let me know if I can help or answer any questions. smile.gif

Marc to the rescue! I loved his perspective as a mage - and he does both think and act like a mage. Whew, looks like Khalor's going to make it thanks to his arcane associate.

Lol at ghastley! laugh.gif


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post Nov 29 2016, 03:55 PM
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Entry# 34


You have done well, Khalor. Your journey has not been an easy one, but you have found the redemption you sought. For the first time in a long age, I see an elf that is untroubled and free of any ill intent. And what's more, you ended the scourge of Mistwatch without enacting the revenge I warned you of. Return to my shrine in the mountains, and I will guide you into your future.


Khalor awoke from his dream, opening his eyes for the first time in nearly a score of days. He was comfortable and warm in his bed, and he lay there for a while pondering on Azura's words. After a few minutes, the elf rose from his bed and looked around at the scene before him. Marcurio was asleep in a bed across the way, and a merry fire crackled and popped in the fireplace at the room's center. His eyes moved over to the hallway, and the sight of the blood spattered walls and floors brought everything back with a rush, as Khalor realized just how close to death he had been. He slid on a pair of boots near the bed, and began walking around, bending, and stretching. Everything seemed to be in order, and the elf didn't seem to have any lasting effects from his wounds.

Marc heard the noise and woke from his slumber, "About bloody time you woke up. It's been nigh on twenty days since your foolish endeavor. How are you feeling?"

"Well, I don't feel any worse for the wear. Seems to have healed up rather nicely, actually. I suppose I owe you quite a bit, don't I?"

He grinned, "Bah, don't dwell on it. I'm sure that in due time, we'll break even. Somehow our dealings always seem to put us in too much danger."

"No arguments there," said Khalor. He glanced over at the body of Fjola. "Does Christer know?"

"Know what?" asked Marc. "About this woman? Why does that matter?"

"Because this woman is Fjola. Leader of the Mistwatch bandits, his lost wife, and my former lover. She was the person I had to thank for my lack of memories, as well as being left for dead." Khalor paused, as he looked down at her. Oddly enough, he had a feeling of remorse... And pity. "Before we fought, she cleared up another matter too, Marc. It would seem that I had my change of heart before I was dumped on the side of the road."

Marc was staring intently at him. "Are you saying that..."

"Yes. It seems I was on the cusp of turning over Mistwatch to Laila and her men, before Fjola found me out. I had no intentions of fighting her after learning that, and would have just as soon walked out of here forever. But, she didn't intend to let me survive again."

Marcurio said nothing. He seemed just as stunned as Khalor had been, when Fjola told him of the truth. Khalor continued on, "Which reminds me.... Azura popped into my dreams again, and would like us to return to her shrine. It would seem that she is able to help me, now."

"Well, let's get going, then!" said Marc. "We shouldn't keep her waiting."

"Not yet," said Khalor. "First, we talk to Christer. After that, I still intend on visiting Solitude for the first time."


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Kane
post Dec 1 2016, 06:48 PM
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Entry #35


After packing up all their belongings, Khalor and Marcurio began the long descent through the towers. Combined, the two of them finished off the remaining bandits with ease, finally cleansing the land of the ruthless bandits. Khalor found it odd that none of them had bothered to come and see where Fjola had been for twenty days, but Marc reasoned that they were all probably afraid of her. "Happens all the time," said Marc. "They worry so much about pissing off the boss, that they don't bother to intrude on them." Shortly after, the entered the northern tower, and descended the stairs to wear Christer had been hiding. Khalor had just begun to wonder if he was still there, when heard that all too familiar voice ring out.

"Hey, who's there?"

Khalor turned to Marc, "Be ready if those goes south. I'd don't want to kill the poor man." The Imperial nodded in assent, and readied a Calm spell.

As they entered the antechamber, Christer hailed them, "What news? Why isn't Fjola with you?"

"I found her at the top of the highest keep, Christer. Turns out she wasn't kidnapped...she came here and joined of her own accord, eventually rising to be the leader of these scum," said Khalor. Christer stared at him in disbelief, apparently at a loss for words. "I had to kill her, Christer. She attacked me as I tried to leave."

"What? My Fjola would never... You monster! I'll kill you for this!" He charged at the two of them, but Marc was ready with this spell, and once he calmed down, they turned to head back out into the world. But, not before Khalor placed Fjola's ring in Christer's hand. "Good luck."

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


The sun shone brightly down on them as the two friends made their way west on the road above Mistwatch. Making excellent time, they soon found themselves resting at Darkwater Crossing. After eating lunch, and swapping stories with the locals, the road beckoned once more and they continued on towards the west. A ways up the road, Marc noticed that something seemed to be bothering Khalor again. "Something on your mind, friend?" Khalor said nothing for a moment.

"I s'pose you could say that. When I returned to Riften, I had forgotten to tell you something during my haste to get back on the road." Marc looked at him questioningly.

"Oh? What's it this time?"

Khalor reached into his bag, and pulled out the pockmarked beacon he'd found in Brittleshin. "I stumbled across this on my journey to Whiterun." He tossed it to Marc, "What do you make of it?"

"Dunno," said Marc. "It feels magical, though. Definitely an artifact of some kind."

"Well, when I grabbed it, and unnecessarily loud voice rang out to me. It was a woman's voice for sure, but I have no idea who. She told me I needed to return this thing to her temple, and that 'I would be the instrument of her cleansing light'."

"Well, that sounds ominous," said Marc. "Did she say where the temple was?"

"Aye. Mount Kilkreath." Marcurio looked at him, with his jaw dropped open.

"By the Eight, you bloody elf! That's Merida's temple. The Daedric Lady of Infinite Energies!"


Entry #36


Marc had been silent for the last couple hours. Kahlor didn't like it, so he tried to break the ice, "So, this Meridia business...." His friend shot him and icy glare, but Khalor ignored it, "Are we in for a rough time?" More silence, this time with a long sigh afterwards.

"It's hard to say. She's considered good Daedra by most standards, but we're still dealing with powers way beyond our control. And if she's chosen you, then there's no way your getting rid of that beacon."

"I thought as much," said Khalor. "Look, I don't want to keep dragging you into these situations. If you want to just meet me in Solitude, I understand. I can go this one alone, it is my own doing after all."

Marcurio looked over at him, "You should know by now, elf, that we're in this [censored] together. I may not like it, but I won't abandon my friend."

Khalor nodded with a smile, and they kept on their journey. When they reached the Whiterun Stables, Khalor told Marc to wait for him there, while he ducked into the city to see if he was still being sought after. Walking around the city, nobody seemed to care a bit about who he was. It seemed that his name was clear everywhere, and this bolstered Khalor's spirits. They were quickly dampened however, by some pompous ass raving about the 'Cloud District'. Whatever that was, it took every ounce of Khalor's patience to not knock him out cold. After selling some junk in the general store, he made his way back out to Marc.

"Looks like I'm in the clear throughout Skyrim," said Khalor. "Nobody batted at eye at me in there."

"Good. Let's get going, then. We've got a long hike up to Dragon bridge."

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


It was an uneventful trip. Something that pleased both of them, after all they'd been through, and what was to come next. Dragon Bridge was a quaint little town that Khalor found himself enjoying. The Four Shields Tavern was a nice, warm tavern to relax in for the night. Kilkreath wasn't much further, and they needed to be well rested before heading up to it. Khalor looked over at Marc as they ate their dinner, "What do you reckon we're going to find in that temple?"

"Hard to say," replied Marc. "From what I remember, Meridia despises the undead. Couple that with what you told me of your encounter with her and that beacon, it sounds like we may be in for some zombie control. Hopefully, that's all, too. I'd hate to run into something worse."

"What could be worse than hordes of the undead?" asked Khalor. "That seems to be pretty dire already."

"Necromancy."

Khalor hadn't considered that. If there was necromancy going on at the heart of this matter, it would be pretty bad, too, if a Daedra is concerned with it enough it to recruit help in dealing with it. He was beginning to get a bad feeling about this matter, and as he settled into a fitful sleep, it gnawed at his subconscious.

Dawn seemed to come too fast for the two friends, and after a quick breakfast, they were back on the road once again. Kilkreath really was fairly close, and not longer after leaving Dragon Bridge, they headed up the northern fork in the road, towards a worn set of stairs carved into the mountain side. Meridia's temple was an impressive size, but it paled in comparison to Azura's statue. Khalor began to wonder what the next step was, but before he could converse with Marcurio, that all too familiar voice rang out in the morning sky.

"LOOK AT MY TEMPLE, LYING IN RUINS. SO MUCH FOR THE CONSTANCY OF MORTALS, THEIR CRAFTS AND THEIR HEARTS. IF THEY LOVE ME NOT, HOW CAN MY LOVE REACH THEM?"

"That was....unsettling," said Marc. "You weren't kidding about it being a loud, booming voice."

"Tell me about it. Just imagine that hitting you in the middle of a cave, as your shoulders deep in a chest." They climbed up to the top of the altar, where Meridia's statue stood, her stone arms raised in the air. A receptacle of sorts laid at it's base, and Khalor lowered the beacon gently into it. A bright. blinding white light shone all around them as a beam of energy shot upwards into the sky. Khalor felt his feet leave the ground, as he was elevated high above the temple, and all of Skyrim, for that matter. An intense ball of pure white appeared in front of him, high in the sky.

"It is time for my splendor to return to Skyrim. But the token of my truth lies buried in the ruins of my once great temple, now tainted by a profane darkness skittering within. The Necromancer Malkoran defiles my shrine with vile corruptions, trapping lost souls left in the wake of this war to do his bidding. Worse still, he uses the power stored within my own token to fuel his foul deeds. I have brought you here, mortal, to be my champion. You will enter my temple, retrieve my artifact, and destroy the defiler. Guide my light through the temple to open the inner sanctum and destroy the defiler."

"It doesn't really sound like I have a choice in the matter," said Khalor.

"But a single candle can banish the darkness of the entire Void. If not you, then someone else. My beacon is sure to attract a worthy soul. But if you are wise, you will heed my bidding."

"I'll do it, then."

"Of course you will. I have commanded it! Go now, the artifact must be reclaimed and Malkoran destroyed. Malkoran has forced the doors shut. But this is my temple, and it responds to my decree. I will send down a ray of light. Guide this light through my temple and its doors will open."

Seconds later, Khalor found himself back on the altar, watching as beam of light shot into the temple. Marc put his hand on his shoulder, "Are you alright, Khalor?" The elf turned to him and nodded.

"I'm fine, but your fears are confirmed. We're after a necromancer."


Entry #37


The breached the doors into the temple and the dread immediately set in. The old Nordic ruin stank of death, and an evil black mist swirled throughout the air. A desecrated corpse lie right near the entrance, and it appeared to be burn out in some way. "Something very foul is going on in here, Khalor. Tread carefully." The Bosmer nodded, and they descended the stone stairs into the ruins. There was not much of note as they silently walked the long forgotten halls of the Daedra's temple, and the black mist swirled ever onward. They finally emerged into a large open room where Meridia's beam of light shone down through the arches of support, directly into a pedestal. The pedestal contained an orb similar to the beacon Khalor had replaced outside.

They approached the orb, and as Khalor placed his hand on the receptacle, it rose into the air and refracted the light beam through to the next chamber. A large set of wooden double doors swung upon of their own accord, revealing their path further into the temple. "So, we need to guide this all the way though? Interesting," said Khalor.

"Looks that way. I know it's been relatively quite so far, but be on your guard anyway." Through the doors were more stairs, descending even further into the ruins. Silently, the crept down towards another set of open doors. On the other side, their first challenge awaited them. Two ghostly black figures seemed to float along above the ground, and were armed with various weapons. The still visible helmets they donned indicated that they must have been former soldiers, just as Meridia had warned them. Quite suddenly, the shades spotted them and charged their way, creaking along like the skeletal undead that haunted many other barrows. Khalor and Mar handled them well enough, but it was no easy task. "There is a serious evil at work here, friend," said Marc. "I fear Meridia may have sent us on a fool's errand."

"I agree. But, we can't walk away now, either, without incurring the wrath of a Daedra. We'll just have to ready for whatever comes our way."

Heading further in, the two friends continued their task of activating the various light refractors, and cutting down the corrupted shades. After a little while, they emerged out on to a balcony high above the road to Solitude. It was midday and the view of Skyrim from there was spectacular, so they took a short break to eat and rest up their sword arms. Before long they headed back inside the temple to continue their quest. Back on the inside Khalor sighed, "Funnily enough, I'm glad we're back inside. The noise from that bloody beam of light was downright annoying."

Marc grinned," I was just thinking the same thing. At least it's quiet, albeit deadly dangerous, in here." Further in they went, activating pedestals and cutting down shades. Only the occasional breather in between fights offered and respite for the two of them, but soon enough, they were entering the catacombs at the lowest point of the temple. One more pedestal stood at the center of a raised dais in the catacomb's first chamber. Khalor activated it, and the wooden doors ahead of them opened wide, revealing another set of stairs. As they crept forward, Marcurio raised his hand in warning. "Hold up, Khalor. I hear a lot of movement down there...."

Khalor strained his elven ears towards the final chamber. "Aye, I hear at least half a dozen of those ghoulish shades. How do you want to handle this?"

"Well, if we can eliminate this Malkoran character, his power over the shades should break. See if you can't get a shot on him with your bow. If he still stands, we concentrate on bring him down immediately."

The elf nodded and drew his trusty glass bow from his back, and nocked an arrow. He let the arrow fly, and it found it's mark in Malkoran's shoulder, but it didn't kill the evil Breton. He turned their way just as Khalor drew his sword and Marcurio readied his spells. All of the corrupted shades immediately closed in on them, cutting off a path to their summoner. The two friends battled furiously at the wave of evil, all the while dodging spells casted by Malkoran. They began to whittle away at the shades, but they were quickly being overwhelmed. Just to survive Khalor had dropped his shield in favor of a healing spell, as he swung viciously at the dark summons in their way.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Marcurio drop to his knees as he shouted, "Khalor! Get to Malkoran, we'll never kill all of these things!"

Enraged at seeing his friend struggling for his life, he broke through the line of shades and charged the necromancer head on. Just before he reached the altar, a massive blast of ice and snow erupted from the hooded Breton and dropped Khalor to his knees as the swirling blizzard blew right through him and the shades behind him. The only thing that saved the elf was his enchanted necklace of frost resist he had found long ago. Khalor rose to his feet after the cold passed and charged forward, plunging his sword into Malkoran's robed chest. The dark magician fell to the ground only to have his own shade burst free from it's dead husk. At this point, the remaining shades all congregated around Khalor as he battled the shade of Malkoran.

Khalor poured every last ounce of strength he had into one last, desperate, swing of his sword and as the necromancer's shade dissipated along with the others, the elf fell to his knees in complete exhaustion, on the verge of passing out from his fatigue.


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Kane
post Jan 12 2017, 03:29 PM
Post #18


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From: Hammerfell



Entry #38


Solitude was just as beautiful as Khalor had hoped it to be. A few days had passed since their ordeal at Meridia's temple, and things had finally settled down for Khalor and Marc. They decided that a small vacation was in order, and resigned to enjoy themselves in Solitude, without taking on any new work. It suited the elf well, as he wandered the streets of the province's capital city without a care. Once he'd gotten over the shock of walking into an execution, and fending off a crazy citizen, he'd relaxed quite nicely. The Blue Palace was a beautiful sight to see, but he had yet to pay his respects to the lovely young Jarl. There seemed to be a meeting of the minds taking place when he had visited, and he wanted nothing to do with what he began to overhear.

Khalor had left Marcurio back at the local tavern, where he was getting a head start on drinking that day. Last time he'd stopped in, Marc had been trying to woo the bard Lisette, but to no avail. Chuckling and shaking his head, Khalor headed back out into the cool afternoon air. He found a nice, calm place to sit in the residential district, and pondered on what they would do next. The words of Azura echoed in his head, making up his mind for him, as to where they would go next. I wonder what she has in store for us, thought Khalor.

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



Several drunken days later, Khalor and Marc were headed back out on the road, chatting amicably as the went. "So, we're headed to Winterhold again, K?"

"Aye. I don't think it's wise to ignore a Daedra, especially when she might be of help to us. After that, I don't know. I s'pose it depends on what we find out up there."

"Well, I'm very glad we stopped here and relaxed for the week," said Marc. "I was getting burned out, and that last debacle was just too much for me. Who would've thought clearing a ruin of shades would be worse than traversing an underground Dwemer city!"

"Ugh, don't talk about Blackreach. That place and those Falmer give me the heebie jeebies. How's that sword suiting you, by the way?"

Marcurio unsheathed Dawnbreaker and held it aloft, "it's balanced exceptionally well, and it definitely radiates power. I wonder what the enchantment on it is... It's like nothing I've ever come across before."

"Well, seeing as where it came from, my guess is that the Draugr won't like it."

Marc nodded, and returned it to it's scabbard on his belt. "C'mon, lets take the carriage to Winterhold. It's too far to walk."



Entry #39

A long ride to Winterhold and half a day's hike into the mountains finally brought Khalor and Marcurio back to Azura's massive statue. Aranea was ever present, praying always to her patron Daedra and greeted them warmly once again. "It has been many a long day since you first came to see us, child. I sense that much ahs changed for you. And you, too, Marcurio. It is pleasant to see that you've stuck with your friend."

Marc nodded, and Khalor returned the greeting in kind. "Aye, it has been a long and weary journey, but not one without success. I feel better than I have in a long time, and the lady Azure herself has summoned me back here to you and her."

"Indeed she has. Azura has followed your progress with a keen interest, and even shared visions of your fates with me along they way. I also know what you are seeking next, Khalor, and the Lady is willing to help you. But, the Goddess of Dawn and Dusk has one final task for you, before that time comes."

Khalor sighed. "Very well. What is required of me, this time?"

Aranea gazed at him with a somber look. "I know you have been through much, but it will not be without merit. Soon enough, Azura will help you as much as she can with your next endeavor. But, for now, you must go to a fortress, endangered by water, yet untouched by it. Inside, you will find an elven mage who can turn the brightest star as black as night."

This time, it was Marcurio who sighed. "Aranea, what's this about? And why all the mystery surrounding it?"

"It is cryptic, I know, but Azura's signs are never wrong. I believe the fortress may refer to Winterhold. Ask if they know this elven enchanter. Twilight guide your path."


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


Khalor was relatively quiet as the two companions began their hike back down to the ruined city of Winterhold under the cover of darkness. Not even the beautiful dancing lights of the aurorae were enough to shake him from his thoughts on where they were headed to next in their journey. He was just beginning to understand just how powerful these Daedra actually were, with this latest revelation from Azura. Khalor had spoken to no one (not even Marcurio), about the desires for knowledge that had been slowly creeping into his mind over the past few weeks. The young Bosmer had long since learned what he was, and strived successfully to cast that part of his life away. But, that only brought him more questions about his past. A longing to know where he came from began to take root....and longing to know of his family.

A few minutes later, Marcurio finally pulled him from his thoughts. "So, do you have any idea what Aranea was speaking of back there? About what you are seeking next? It didn't sit well with me, for some reason. Almost like she knows of something more..."

"I do indeed, Marc, but he she knows what that is, is just another mark of how powerful a force we are meddling with," said Khalor. "I've not shared what's been nagging at me with anyone yet, but it would seem that nothing escapes Azura's sight." The elf sighed, "I want my memories back, Marc. All of them. I had to come from somewhere, and I have to have family somewhere, as well."

"Had a feeling you would get to this point sometime. It was only a matter of time, once things finally settled down for us," said Marcurio. "You still remember nothing?"

"Not a damn thing," said Khalor, with a grimace.

"Well, I suppose the only thing we can do then, is help out Azura. She's taken an interest in you, and perhaps she will point you in the right direction."

"Very true. We still have one other option, though, that also coincides with a loose end we've yet to tie up here in Winterhold. We have a lexicon to return, and I still have the Elder Scroll."



Entry #40


"This time, we pack accordingly for going back out on the ice," said Khalor. "I'm not freezing my ears off, like we did last time."

"Yeah, yeah, alright. Don't get your loincloth in a twist, elf," grinned Marc. They'd decided it was best to get rid of the lexicon before heading south again. Septimus has been waiting a long time for them to return from Mzark and was likely getting impatient. Under cover of dark, the two friends headed back into the deep north once more, at a quite a good pace. Neither of them wanted to camp out on the ice, so they made they're way to the outpost in haste. The auraoe lighted their path on the clear, crisp night, and soon they were outside of the sunken glacial cave.

The crazy old codger was as talkative as ever, even if what he said didn't make sense. Khalor asked him once more why this was so important to the wizened old mage, hoping to glean more of his motives.

"The box contains the heart," Septimus replied. "The essence of a god. I have devoted my life to the Elder Scrolls, but their knowledge is a passing awareness when compared to the encompassing mind of divinity. The Dwemer were the last to touch it. It was thought to have been destroyed by the Nerevarine, but my lord told me otherwise."

Marcurio frowned. "Who exactly is this 'lord' that you speak of?"

"The Daedric prince of the unknown. Hermaeus Mora. I thought there were no secrets left to know. Until I first spoke to him. He asks a price -- to work his will. A few murders, some dissent spread, a plague or two. For the secrets I can endure. In time, he brought me here. To the box. But he won't reveal how to open it. Maddening."

"Well, it's your lucky day," said Khalor, as reached into his pack. "We managed to get the lexicon for you."

"Give it, quickly." Septimus was gleeful when Khalor handed him the inscribed lexicon. He took the runed cube and began studying it in earnest, soon having the answer that he was looking for. How to open the dwemer vault. "Extraordinary. I see it now. The sealing structure interlocks in the tiniest fractals. Dwemer blood can loose the hooks, but none alive remain to bear it. A panoply of their brethren could gather to form a facsimile. A trick. Something they didn't anticipate, no, not even them. The blood of Altmer, Bosmer, Dunmer, Falmer, and Orsimer. The elves still living provide the key. Bear you hence this extractor. It will drink the fresh blood of elves. Come when its set is complete."

Khalor shook his head in protest. "No, this is to grisly. After all I've been through, I'm not about to go out and murder fellow elves at the behest the Daedra and a mad old hermit." He dropped the extractor on the icy cave floor and together him and Marc made their way towards the cave entrance. At the top of the ramp, they were stopped short by an unexpected sight. A hideous mass of green and black tentacles, interspersed with floating eyes blocked their path out of the glacier. It spoke to them as they approached.

"Come closer. Bask in my presence. I am Hermaeus Mora. I am the guardian of the unseen, and knower of the unknown. I have been watching you, mortal. Most impressive."

The two friends looked at each other in alarm. This was unexpected. Khalor spoke up first, and asked the revolting being what he wanted. It continued on, "Your continuing aid to Septimus renders him increasingly obsolete. He has served me well, but his time is nearing its end. Once that infernal lockbox is opened, he will have exhausted his usefulness to me. When that time comes, you shall take his place as my emissary. What say you?"

No hesitation was required for the two friends, and Khalor quickly rejected the offer. "I'll never join you, you vile demon."

That definitely angered the Daedra. "Be warned. Many have thought as you do. I have broken them all. You shall not evade me forever." And then, he vanished, leaving Khalor and Marcurio in an entirely new state of apprehension.



Entry #41


"We're in for it now, Khalor," said Marcurio. "You can't piss off a Daedra and expect it to end well for you."

"We'll deal with that when the time comes, Marc. For now, I've got more important things to take care of. Hold up a minute." Khalor pulled off his pack and set it on the ground. "I need a quick bite to eat, before we begin our walk in earnest." He began rummaging through his belongings, looking for that elusive green apple he knew was in there. 'Ouch, what the hell was that?"

Marc looked down at him, "what was what? You alright, elf?"

"Something sharp nicked me in there, but I don't know what it could be. Hang on..." Khalor grabbed the bag from the bottom and dumped the contents onto the snowy road, and began spreading out the pile evenly, when he noticed an odd golden glimmer from underneath a pair of his trousers. "What in the hell is that? Oh no......not this [censored] again."

"What is it, K?"

Khalor sighed. "It's the work of the Daedra once again, that's what it is! It's Meridia's damned beacon all over again!" He pulled out the essence extractor that he had dropped on the cave floor and held it aloft for Marcurio to see. "One way or another, they always seem to get what they want."

"Oh, just leave the bloody thing behind."

"It doesn't work like that, Marc. It'll just keep reappearing in my bag. I've been down this road before. We'll just have to ignore it from here on out."


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



A days hike later brought them into Windhelm, where they planned to catch a carriage to Falkreath. Night had fallen once again, so they headed towards the local tavern for food and bed. Khalor hoped for a quiet night, but that didn't happen once that sorry excuse for a human, Rolff, walked in and started spouting off again. Marc had tried to hold his friend back, but Khalor had had enough, and soon dropped Rolff to his knees.

"C'mon, K. Leave him be, you made your point, and I don't disagree with it at all." He guided Khalor upstairs where they could sit in peace by the fire, and listen to the bard play. "I'm not going to say he didn't deserve that, Khalor, but what made you snap like that?"

"I'm just so tired of the Daedra, Marc. It seems they're all we ever run into anymore, and I don't want to keep doing they're bidding all the time. There has to be an easier way than the path I'm being led down."

"Yeah, I know what you mean, friend. It has me uneasy, too. But, what else is there? It's not like the Gods are going to help us, ya know?"

Khalor said nothing, as he was lost in thought once again. He knew there was another option, even if Marc always seemed to avoid bringing it up. But, could Khalor bring himself to even consider it? That was an entire other story. Based on the little knowledge he had on it already, he rightly felt that he shouldn't even consider messing with an Elder Scroll. "Marc, you know as well as I do that the Elder Scrolls may offer exactly what it is we're searching for. Even if you don't want to admit it."

"No. Absolutely not, Khalor. There is just no way of knowing what could happen to you if you even open that scroll, let alone read it! It's not ideal to help the Daedra, or count on the, for help, but at least it seems that Azura favors you positively. If any of them would help you, it would definitely be her."



Entry #42

The carriage finally came to a halt just outside the limits of Falkreath. It was a long and bumpy ride, but it saved Khalor and Marcurio the time of walking all that way. Grey clouds had moved in and began dumping rain just as their ride had entered the forested hold. Kahlor sighed, "I swear, it's always raining in this damned town."

Marc chuckled, "Aye, Falkreath and rain do seem to go hand in hand. Should we head out? Or do you want to stick around town for a while?" He looked around the small village, wondering how so few managed to survive out here in the sticks, year after year. There was barely any activity, aside from a fellow chopping wood and an old woman meandering about. "Nah, let's just head out of here. I'm not exactly well regarded here, and it's early in the day yet. C'mon, Lake Illinalta is due north."

They set off at a brisk pace, eager to be well shot of this latest task that was thrust onto them. Just after lunch, the intrepid duo found themselves on the shores of Skyrim's great southern lake, pondering their next move. Khalor pointed out across the water, "Well, that has to be it." Marcurio followed his gaze to the far shoreline. A ruined fort appeared to be almost totally submerged in the lake, with only a single tower rising from the surface.

"Just our luck that it's all the way across the other side. Do we swim, or do we walk?"

"We swim, friend," said Khalor. "I've made the swim before, and it isn't that hard. We'll head up the shore a bit, and then swim to that island out there. From there, it's another quick swim to the keep."

"Okay. Lead on, my elven friend."

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


Illinalta's Deep was a fascinating sight to see, especially on the inside. The two friends entered into a circular vestibule adorned with a skeleton slung to a board as a warning. But, the truly interesting sight to see was the water pouring into the fort from the lake around them. It really put Aranea's vision into perspective to see this place somehow void of the water that should be filling it to the brim. "This truly is an odd place, Marc," said Khalor. "What do you make of this?"

"I don't know yet, K. But, it does give one a certain feeling of claustrophobia. How can this place not be underwater is beyond me, and it makes me feel as if the walls could collapse in at any time."

Khalor nodded, "I know what ya mean. This place gives me the creeps. Lets deal with these necro's and get out of here."

They crouched down and drew there weapons, as they silently moved through the fort, picking off dark conjurer's one by one. Various treasures were found and pocketed as they wend their way through the underwater keep. Khalor learned a little bit more about magic in a some of the books he found, and Marc had some new scrolls for future battles. Soon enough, they went through a door into Illinalta's Deluge. Plenty more evildoer's awaited them, but the season adventurers were more than a match for some skeletons and robe wearers. They passed through the fortress' dungeons and past another chamber before finally reaching a throne room of sorts.

It was empty, apart from the innumerable skeletons that scattered the floor, and a broken star of Azura lay at the base of the dais. A tattered book laying on the alter provided Khalor and Marc with the background knowledge on why they were here. "Now it makes sense," said Marc. "They've been tampering with it. Successfully, it would seem if I'm reading this correctly. Maylen Varen seems to have found a way to achieve immortality, by turning this into a black soul gem."

"So, Azura must want it back so that she can purify it. Interesting."


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Kane
post Jan 31 2017, 03:30 PM
Post #19


Master
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Joined: 26-September 16
From: Hammerfell



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.

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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.

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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."

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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."

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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?"


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