Contract.

This is a rewrite, seeing as a few journal pages were ruined.

After hearing word of Aventus Arenito, I took Windhelm. Upon entering, I found the town itself to be quite… Sullen. I allowed myself to look upon the stone walls of the town, seeing many of the homeless standing at fire pits in the town. They, of course, only begged for coin, or drink. I blessed a few with a few coin, before deciding to ask around about the boy. One woman pointed me to a barren looking home, that looked to be uninhabited. I thanked the kind woman, and ascended the stone steps. I found the door to the home to be unlocked, and pushed in with ease.

“Sweet mother, sweet mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood in fear.” Chanting. My partner, Faendal, expressed his concern with a scowl. “I’ve heard that chant.” Was all he sneered. Looking about the home, it was obvious if anyone lived there, they sure didn’t keep the house up. Faendal and I climbed the stairs, to find a boy crouched over a skeleton as he chanted over and over. I quietly approached, clearing my throat to make myself known. 

“It worked! I knew you’d come!” He exclaimed when he saw me, before standing. The boy could not be more than ten. He gave me his tale of woe, of his mother’s death, and a cruel woman keeping him in an orphanage. A woman known as Grelod the Kind. He told me he managed to escape her horrid grasp, and escaped back to his own home, where he tried to contact the Dark Brotherhood. Ah. There it was. That name again. He seemed to think I was a part of it.

“You can kill mean ol’ Grelod, can’t you mister?” He asked, practically begging. I gave him a smile, and told him to consider the deed done. Overjoyed, he continued praise of the Dark Brotherhood. I bid him my farewell, and decided to head over to Riften to pay Grelod the ‘Kind’ a visit. 

Oh my. It does seem a few pages of my journal have become soiled in water. Please, allow me to rewrite them. Maybe then things will make sense.

A New Follower.

I sent Lydia away to take care of my home in Whiterun, and set out to look for a new companion. I took to the Bee And The Barb in Riften, seeing as I was just out in the fields hunting previously. Upon entering the bar, I saw a man sitting by himself on a bench, flagon in hand. I requested a wine from a lovely woman working at the hold, as I looked around.  Most people were sitting in groups, singing and telling tales of their fights. Feeling generous, I sat by the lonely man, and struck up a conversation.

“Marcurio is the name, friend. What brings you to the Barb?” He asked, keeping his head down as he drank from his cup. I held a smile, watching the man. “Thy name is Loki. I only come for a drink.” I replied. He looked up at me and flashed a smile. “On a journey?” He asked. “Of sorts.” I said back, as the waitress returned with my wine. Taking a sip of my own drink, I eyed him. “And what of you?” “I mostly do petty work, whatever I can to make a decent coin. If you’re willing to pay me a bit, I could travel with you. Keep at your back, and all. I specialize in magics, so permanent scaring will be of no issue.” Ah, he was a mage. Just as I was. I held my bottle up, tapping at his flagon. “Consider yourself hired, my friend.” I said happily.

And we drank and we sang, and enjoyed our evening as new companions and friends. And when the liquor ran dry, we forced ourselves to the nearest inn to sleep off the drink. 

A Child In Trouble.—

After lightening my carrying load, and surprisingly seeing Lydia to care for my home, I figured a drink at the local bar would serve a fine idea. Faendal wasn’t much of a drinker, and nor was I, but the stress was just enough for me crave it.

It was only day break, but I did not care. When a man craves drink, he craves it. I hoisted up onto a bar stool, and ordered a single glass of wine. As I sipped at the alto, I questioned the barkeep about any rumors or jobs about. If I was to continue my fun, It would be best I do as many odd jobs as I could, to earn the extra coin.

“Well, there is a boy, named Aventus Arentino. Only a child, but I hear he is trying to get in touch with the Dark Brotherhood.” The barkeep told me as he cleaned the bar top. I hummed and sipped the wine, setting it down for only a moment. The Dark Brotherhood? Now, that was a name. I asked the man of the boy’s whereabouts, so that I may question him myself of this, ‘Dark Brotherhood’.

It was reviled the boy resided in Windhelm. I thanked the barkeep, payed a few coin for the drink, and set on my way to Windhelm.

A Home To Sleep.—

Since I had now become somewhat of a hero in Whiterun, I was given permission to purchase a home in the town. Prices on the home racked up over 5000 in coin, and there was no way I would pay something so outrageous. 

A little trickery was in the air. With a smile on my face, I waited until about three in the morning, until I would approach Avenicci, the Jarl’s right-hand man, about purchasing a home. As I woke him from his slumber, I made sure I was near a cupboard. As he sleepily arose from his sleep, I asked for the home. He still seemed most asleep, but he agreed. As he fished in his pocket for a key, I slipped all my coin into the cupboard at the side. Just as he was handing the key off, and waiting for pay, I quickly changed the conversation, to how he enjoys working for the Jarl.

Hook, line, and sinker. He took the bait. He yawned and explained the thrills of working for the man, as he handed off the key to my new home. I smiled and listened, or at least, pretended to listen to his rambles, until he crawled back into bed to sleep. As soon as I was sure he was asleep, I fished through the cupboard for my coin, and left, heading to my own home to store my books and items.

Companions.—

I didn’t say to the Jarl’s face, but I had no intent of visiting the so called ‘Grey-Beards’, or to learn more of ‘the Voice’. I had no clear mission or intent upon entering Skyrim, and I was destined to keep it that way. Just before I left the Jarl, he bestowed upon me one of his housecarl’s, a woman who only wished to serve me. No matter. I didn’t need a companion.

Speaking of which, as soon as the woman was done speaking to me, Faendral approached me, excited to see me again. What a useless elf. Had he not been a good way to distract enemies, or be a pack mule, I would had rid of him long ago. No matter. I allowed him to follow again.

He Who Is Born Of The Dragon.—

The Jarl of Whiterun has kept me on my toes as of late, sending me to do such mind numbing tasks, just to keep from growing too bored. He recently informed me of a dragon that had been stalking the town’s nearby watchtower. He insisted I investigate the commotion, and to bring along one of his right-hand men. Or, in this case, woman. 

I did not wish to wait around as the woman gathered her bearings, so I set forth for the tower myself. It seemed fairly quiet when I arrived. I did notice fire damage, along with several scattered bodies from the guards of Whiterun. Given they were already dead, I figured it would hurt no one to loot the bodies. They didn’t have much, but I scraped up a few bits of coin. From what remained of the tower, a lone guard, missing his armor, was quick to approach me. 

“Get down! That thing might still be here!” He reported frantically. Before I could ask of the dragon, a thunderous roar cut through the air. Even those whom have not seen a dragon could report it’s sound. A terrible, black-winged creature flew overhead, stalling midair for a moment to overbear the guard before me with a wave of fire. The man stood no chance, and fell to his knees in defeat. He didn’t even try to defend himself. The man simply gave up, and welcomed death’s graceful kiss.

I, however, was not one to back down unless to strategize and save my own life. And as hoped, I was in luck. I had remembered seeing a Giant’s camp not too far off. Using a bit of my magicka and flames to deter the dragon’s attention to myself, I lead him straight to the camp.

It was a little sad, really. Knowing that a Giant, or a mammoth might need to die in order to vanquish the dragon, but I paid no mind. The Giant I approached seemed docile, lazy, even. I changed that with a bit of flame at his foot. He immediately became enraged, and charged at me, his club swinging in the air, as if he was giving a battle cry. I smiled, pleased with myself. I would let the dragon and the Giant fight among each other, and then I would finish off whomever was left standing. I had a dragon to my north, and a giant to my south. I allowed them both close enough to me so they ran into each other, then I sprinted aside to watch the bloodbath.

In an instant, it was king of the sky, verses the king of the land. The dragon had the advantage of flight, but made the mistake of flying low enough for the Giant to clip it’s wings with his club. The scaled beast let out a roar of pain, and landed before the Giant to fight on land. With the giant using his club, and the dragon shooting a barrage of fire from it’s mouth, it almost looked evenly matched. 

Moment after moment, the beasts dwindled down one another’s hit points, until one was certain to cave. It was that of the Giant. He had been lead too far from his camp to regain strength, and fell to his knees before the dragon lurched forward with the clamp of his terrifying jaws, ending the Giant then and there. The dragon was still much too weak to fly, and I decided to step in. With a quick blast of fire at the dragon’s back, the beast let out a defeated roar, and fell forward— lifeless. 

After the dragon was good and dead, I noticed it’s flesh begin to bubble and split. It almost looked like lava. The skin made the cracking sounds of fire on wood, and slowly disintegrated in thin air. a strong wind caused a bit of an updraft, which of course, isn’t uncommon. However, the wind swirled around me only, leaving the grass and the trees untouched. In a flash, I felt much, much stronger than I even have before. It was as if I become one with the dragon itself. With no other intent than to gather my reward from the Jarl, I made my way back to Whiterun. As I was about to push open the gates of the town, a loud crack of thunder out of the clear, blue sky startled me.

“Dragonborn!” A loud, slightly strained voice called. I looked about, but saw no one in my path. Certainly someone in town would know of this. Almost as soon as I had gotten into town, I was surrounded by the guards of Whiterun. 

“It’s you, you are Dragonborn!” “Show us the voice!” “You are of the legend!” They all seemed to swarm me at once. The voice? Certainly nothing I had hear of. Confused, I turned to my side, and opened my mouth. A thundering “FUS!” Erupted, and nearly knocked me back. I had no idea what in the God’s name it was. I shoved past the men who surrounded me, determined to question the Jarl on the ‘Dragonborn’, and the ‘Voice’.

It was almost as if the Jarl had been waiting for me to return, eager with news of the dragon. I reported all I knew— How the dragon was dead, how everyone had been killed, and then I told him of the voice. He seemed taken back, and stared at me with his mouth gawking. In fact, he sat in silence, before finally speaking. All he told me to do, was to see the men known as ‘The Grey-Beards’. To the Jarl’s knowledge, that’s who called to me in the thunder of Whiterun’s return. 

As I walked away, the Jarl was muttering to himself. “There is no way… How can there be two…?”

Two Dragonborn? Why, that makes things interesting. Perhaps I shall seek this other out, and test him myself.

Apologies.—

These last few days have been an exhilarated rush for me, hence why I have lost the time to write of my perils.

Use Of Brute Strength.—

God’s, do I absolutely despise using brute strength. I carry the ax of sparks on me at all times, if at any time my magic fails to restore in a fight. I had this happen while I was fighting a flame necromancer today. He and I were near evenly matched, but his magic was able to continue more than mine was. Out of sheer desperation and the will to keep from dying, I switched to my ax, and downed the man in a single blow. My staff of zombies was useless to me, if only because I need a soul gem to recharge the damned thing.

I was also ambushed by a group of bloodelves today. Given that the group was far too much to handle, I lured them to a giant’s cavern, and allowed him to dispose of them instead. And I managed to slip away before he could focus his sights on me.

I grow tired of the constant harassment I receive on a daily bases, if only because I choose magic over the strength of thy own muscles. I am not one to use them. Not because I can’t, but because I rather not make a mess of things. Magic is quick and deadly.

I noticed a group of warriors today. About four of them, three men and a woman. They all looked as if they would be easy targets, or so I hoped. Upon further inspection as I planned an ambush, the warriors managed to take down a mammoth in a matter of seconds. Rethinking my plans, I figured I might as well get stronger before trying to attack all of my enemies head-on.

Oh.—

I seem to have lost my companion. No doubt he was offed by a bear or a wolf. No matter. My intent was to kill him off anyways.