In the Mood for Lox (Revised)

(A revision of http://illfatedscrolls.blogspot.com/2012/02/in-mood-for-lox.html)

          I was assigned to stand guard at the main gate today. At around noon, I felt the oppressing sun, filtered through the holes in my chainmail, pressing against the back of my neck. It must’ve triggered something. A strange inclination took over me. I suddenly had the urge to eat some lox. I suddenly craved lox as if I was a vampire craving for blood.

          I felt as if I was under a spell. Could someone have casted an Illusion spell on me while I was unaware? It was almost like a state of sleep paralysis. My body moved perfectly, driven by an overwhelming epicurean crave for lox, a desire to gnaw a salmon down to its bones and sinews.

I couldn’t resist it. I faintly remember leaving my post, and walking over to Anoriath at the market. Images of salmon, swimming in the cold streams, flashed before me. I saw salmon jumping and pushing against the relentless stream. But when I got to the marketplace, I had already forgotten why I was there. So, I stood in front of Anoriath’s stall for a while, staring at those lox without saying anything. He spoke. But I could hear no words.

I told Dora and Fiona what happened to me when I returned. Dora, Divines bless her, immediately went to find Anoriath, the hunter and meat merchant at the market. It was already dark, so Anoriath closed the stall and was heading home. Somehow, Dora still managed to buy some lox from him. We had lox for dinner, a lot of it in fact. I couldn’t finish my portion, and had three pieces left.

Fiona enjoyed it through. She downed the about five pieces. If she had a craving like that every day, I don’t know how I would feed her. She’s growing up real fast.

11^th of Last Seed.

Stabbing and Burning (Revised)

(A revision of http://illfatedscrolls.blogspot.com/2012/02/stabbing-and-burning.html)

          Irileth is on to me. The woman is more thorough than a Whiterun guard on late night patrol. That was a joke, by the way. But seriously, she’s very thorough. Everyone knows Darien and I were the first to discover the body. She doesn’t just stop there. She wanted to know who saw the body first, if either of us touched the body, and who stayed at the scene and who called for backup, and why. Since Darien and I didn’t even discuss these things, I don’t know what he answered.

Darien was called in for questioning before me. He was told to wait outside for my interview to be over. After mine was done, Irileth told Darien and I to come with her to the Hall of the Dead, where Adriane’s body is.

          When we arrived, Irileth told the priest to open Adriane’s coffin. The priest refused at first, but it didn’t take long for him to submit to an angry dark elf investigating a murder case. A foul stench emerged from the coffin when the priest opened it. Adriane’s body is still charred as when we left it.

Looking at the body today was completely different than looking at it a few days ago. I was able to notice a lot more, not panicking and having Illusion spells casted on me and all. With the three of us looking for any clues, we were sure to find something. And we did. Turns out, there is stab wound on solar plexus of the body. The killer is no amateur. It was the only wound we found on the body, too. That means Adriane died from that one stab.

Irileth went on to check every conceivable organs and body parts. The elf’s meticulous examination revealed another clued. There was also a mark on Adriane’s tongue. It was as if the killer carved out letters on the poor girl’s tongue. He must’ve used a dagger, since the cuts are small. From what we could make out, it was the word “Krex.” Irileth concluded that the burning and cuts happened postmortem. Those features are probably signatures of the killer.

          “Gentleman, it looks like we have an experienced serial killer on our hands here.”

8^th of Last Seed.

Fathers and Daughters (Revised)

(A revision of http://illfatedscrolls.blogspot.com/2012/02/fathers-and-daughters.html)

          Adriane’s death has been all over the city. Rumors are spreading. It’s on the tongue of the innkeeper and the ears of all the guards.

It took me twenty minutes to walk from my home to HQ this morning. Everyone was out in the streets, talking to their neighbors. There were crowds of people gathered in front of Warmaiden. Some of them were there just to gossip. But, most people in Whiterun just wanted to pay respects to Adriane.

Even Farkas, the town idiot showed up. He gave quite a speech, too.

“I remember when I first met Adriane.” He began. “I had an assignment to clear out a cave infested with bears and spriggans. So I went to the Warmaiden to buy a steel hammer. Adriane was standing outside, working the smelter. I asked her if she could make a hammer fitting for a strong man like me. She got to work immediately.” He started to sob. “She even modified the hilt so that it would fit in my hands perfectly.” At this stage, it was more like wailing.

Belethor spoke up after Farkas. “She always saw herself as the second best smith in town. Though, that is not an insult, because Adriane always knew that Eorlund Gray-Mane was the best. The dear girl was so modest…”

          It was good until he started to talk about his General Goods. He went on about how Warmaiden undermined some of his business. Typical Belethor.

Sooner or later, this whole murder will come back to Darien and me. But for now, further investigation into the case has been postponed. Jarl Balgruuf, the mayor of this city, fear that the situation might be too sensitive. He’s right, too. Adriane was the daughter of Proventus Avenicci, the right hand man and advisor to the Jarl. When the guard brought news of the murder to Proventus, he broke into tears right in front of the whole court. Never before, have I seen Proventus in such a state. He collapsed to the floor, pounding on the cold granite of Whiterun and demanding the Nine Divines to return Adriane to him.

Poor Proventus, I can only imagine the pains that he suffers. To imagine losing a daughter is painful enough. I sometimes ask myself what I would do if I lose my dear Fiona. Regardless of how much thought and contemplation, I could never imagine a life without her. A life with my dear Fiona and beautiful Dora was all I wanted fourteen years ago. Before then, I would laugh at the idea of me walking a little girl to school. Now, not a day goes by that I don’t take Fiona to school in the morning, singing the Nordic rhymes, and picking the mountain flowers, along the way. A life with my dear Fiona and beautiful Dora was why I stashed my adventurer’s boots, and put on the working boots fourteen years ago.

4^th of Last Seed

Insecurity

This dragon rumor gets more spectacular by the hour. The line that separates truth from speculation is diminishing.

Helgen is not too far from here. It’s a small imperial fort just south of Whiterun. It’s about a two hour horse ride from here. I’m guessing for a dragon that’s about a two minute flight.

What if the dragon attack actually did happen? Will Whiterun be able to withstand should a dragon decide to indiscriminately rampage the city? Will I be able to protect Dora and Fiona?

18^th of Last Seed

Dragonborn!

         I can’t sleep for some reason. It’s 3AM right now, here in Whiterun.

The city is asleep. There’s only the occasional sound of the guards on night patrol, of the drunkards stumbling home from The Bannered Mane. Maybe it’s just me, but there’s also an occasional feral roar echoing from the distant mountains. Those hermits at the Throat of the Worlds are probably up to no good again.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the dragon rumors…Oh, I forgot. The rumors introduced another piece of the story today. My guard buddies are saying a mysterious person came to Whiterun today. He met with the Jarl and warned him of an impending dragon attack. They say that he is among the prisoners at Helgen when the dragon attacked; that he was scheduled to be executed along with Ulfric. The Jarl took him seriously, too. He met with Farengar, the court wizard and was assigned to retrieve an artifact in some perilous dungeon. Typical.

What is it about prisoners that make them so special, I wonder? The person who helped Martin defeat Dagon Mehrunes in Cyrodiil during the Oblivion Crisis was a prisoner. He was there when Uriel Septim was assassinated, too. And before that, the one who united the Dunmer Noble Houses in Morrowind was also a prisoner. Sometimes, I just don’t understand the Divines that designed this world.

18^th of Last Seed

Midday Reflections

          It is midday right now. I usually write in the evenings, but there are a lot of things happening right now.

          I don’t have anything better to do anyway. My arm is still frail like a dry twig. It’s going to take a sometime to heal. I can’t swing a sword or lift a barrel. For someone like me, that’s pretty much all I can do to contribute to society. So I might as well use this time to write and reflect.

Rumors of the dragon attack are intensifying. Reminds me of that murder that happened so long ago… Does Whiterun have nothing better to do than to indulge in speculations and half-truths? Everyone innkeeper and his brothers around Skyrim are talking about it.

Fiona still shows no signs of recovery despite all the alchemical treatments. She must’ve consumed over ten potions for the disease by now. Rockjoint usually isn’t that severe. I should know. I’ve contracted Rockjoint all the time back in my days of wandering Tamriel. The reason why Fiona is still struggling to recovery is because of malnutrition. Since I haven’t been able to earn any septims lately, we’ve been eating sparingly at home. A potato for breakfast, cabbage soup for lunch and mudcrab porridge for dinner. For a growing girl like Fiona, that’s simply not enough. She needs her meals and she especially needs it when ill like this. Malnutrition exacerbated the disease. It’s more resilient and harder to treat.

I just don’t know what to do anymore…

          18^th of Last Seed.

Skyrim My Home

          Fiona is finally as sleep. It is 2AM right now. I forgot to mention one thing. The rest of the day was uneventful. I couldn’t do anything but think of Fiona. Although, there’s some strange rumors traveling around Skyrim.

You see, there’s been a civil war going on in Skyrim for some time now. The Imperials are fighting the Stormcloak rebellion. The leader of the rebellion, Ulfric Stormcloak, was captured recently. He was scheduled to be executed in Helgen today. Everyone thought this is the end of the war.

          But apparently, Ulfric escaped from his execution today. People are claiming that dragons appeared at his execution. Dragons. Yes, Dragons. That’s the rumor, anyway. A dragon swooped in, killed almost everyone and burned down Helgen.

          If you ask me, there are two possibilities. Neither of them includes dragons. One, Ulfric got away because the Imperial guards were too incompetent in keeping an eye on him. So, the Imperial cooked up this story to save face. Two, the Imperials don’t want Ulfric to die yet. If Ulfric is dead, the Imperial would have no more excuse to overreach their authority into Skyrim. They’ll be forced to withdraw military presence from Skyrim. Sure, Skyrim is under the jurisdiction of the Empire. But, the Empire is more concerned with rebellions than whether or not Nords can pray to a certain dead man…

          Ugh. Even talking about this exhausts me. I usually don’t follow politics of the land. I’ve seen enough men rise and fall in my adventuring days. The stories of kings and lords are no more different than the ones of beggars and plebeians.

          17^th of Last Seed.