Feodora and Faustus

          Feodora and I were at it again. She wanted me to chop enough wood for the next five days, in case a storm comes. There have been signs of a big storm coming, she said. Dark clouds are approaching us from the east and the air is becoming moist by the day. But chopping five days’ worth of firewood, that’s easier said than done. After all, she’s not the one guarding the city all day. She’s not the want who chased down a thief stealing from Arcadia’s alchemy shop, stopped a rampaging bear near stables outside the walls, or stood at the gates for six hours. So I told her I’ll do it tomorrow. Just like that, she summoned the wrath of Ysgramor on me. I had to get little Fiona out of the room and put her to bed. I swear, Feodora was so loud that even the monks at temple heard us.

Oh Feodora, my love, how did we come to this?

1^st of Last Seed, 4E 201.

Stage One: Yearning

       Hello? Hello. Can anyone see this? By the Divines, this thing actually works. If anyone is reading this, you are reading the words of Faustus Lachance. Also, if you are reading this, I assume that you, too, possess a scroll of your own. I found mine after a little bit of ransacking the attic last night. This is one among the many treasures I have accumulated over the years of my adventuring. However, all of that are only relics of a forgotten past. Now, I’m just a lowly guard in Whiterun, dealing with petty thieves and drunken brawls. It’s been a while since we even had a good bandit raid. Part of me wants to go back to that chapter of my life. I conquered Ayleid ruins, cleansed bandit hideouts, stared feral beasts in the eye then proceeded to mutilate them. Most important of all, I stood before Hermeus Mora himself and received this very scroll.

And yet, part of me wants to remain as I am. As I am… I am Faustus Lachance, a guard in the city of Whiterun, in the province of Skyrim. I chose to settle in Whiterun because of the city’s history. Legends say that long ago, when dragons existed, Whiterun was built to trap a dragon. I thought, hey, maybe someday, I’ll live to witness a dragon in captivity. Other than the legends, Whiterun is a city among many others in Skyrim. To the west, a great plain serves as home to wild beasts, mammoths, and giants. To the East, the tallest mountain in Skyrim stands. Its peak, the Throat of the World is a constant reminder of how insignificant we are.

I have been a guard here in Whiterun for thirteen years. I’m still where I was thirteen years ago; still a lowly guard, no promotions, no recognitions. All I have are anecdotes of times when Farkas has had too much mead. Thirteen years in uniform can do many things to a man. To me, it drained the life out of me more than a vampire ever could. It reduces my care to having enough septims to buy the next meal…

But, I feel a change coming. If this scroll has the power Hermeus Mora promised…I will live again…


31st of Sun's Height, 4E 201.