DAY 36:

Running through the forest, I randomly found a witch. She was old and feeble and sat in a rocking chair. I put on a smile and slipped by, into her cottage. As I silently placed her money into my satchel, she looked back and said, "Don't think I didn't see that," with a voice persecuting and sweet still. I forced torrents of violent magics upon her weak body, but her flesh raged to life with a shrill gasp of air. She could not have anyone learning her secret. She told me so. She pressed the same spell back against mine, and there, with the witch I randomly encountered in the middle of nowhere, I committed murder for the first time, and stole her tattered robes with +50% Magicka regeneration. When I went to wear it, a thick smear of store-brand icyhot ointment lovingly basted my arm. That would not do. I burned the robes and set on to reach whatever settlement I could before whatever other wild beings would hunt me this night.

DAY 37:

I met a fellow traveler on the road today. He walked it while I crossed it, but he took notice of me and spoke. Strong as it was, I didn't care for his voice. He seemed to take pride in it however, going so far as to offer me song for some coin. I agreed. He turned away from me and began to sing; perhaps he was not so confident after all. I didn't enjoy the song and so decided to steal my gold back from him, along with a few extra coins for my trouble. He must have felt my rough knuckles brush his rump as they slid into his pocket, because he turned and hurled his massive blade at my throat. The force tore the seam of his pocket as my wrist was wrenched from his buttocks. He stood there, sword in one hand, and a cold magic in the other, the loose, flapping pocket making it impossible to take this man seriously. I continuously offered to bathe flames upon his person, to which he responded coldly (with a frost spell). Randomly, an on-looking Orc sprinted into the fray and beat this magical warrior to death with nothing but his fists. The Orc then offered me drugs, and when I confronted him about the illegal behavior, he randomly flopped over, limp and dead. Perhaps I, too, am a Dragonborn, because he did not appear to enjoy my words, going so far as to die at the sound of them.

DAY 41:

A light shower pelted my thin robes as the clouds wised and parted for the waking sun, and I stood from a high, rocky perch over the scattered plain. It was a sight to be sure, but, sadly, I could not enjoy it, for the moment I breathed long and refreshingly, a loud crack of thunder raged above, forcing my lungs to contract. The sound that came out of me then is one I dare not share with you. Confused, I glanced at the sky, still swollen blue with stormcloud, I saw something. Something curious. It was no cloud... certainly no bird, and definitely not a plane. I froze then, as if I'd known that a dragon would rip through the atmosphere and then through me. But no, it was not a dragon, either.

It was a mammoth.


The mammoth tried to run while it fell; perhaps it was trying to fly or swim it's way back up into the air in order to avoid crashing into Tamriel and exploding across the greenery. Well, it didn't work, and he did explode across the greenery. I had inadvertently stumbled upon the Gods having a laugh. At first light they drop a mammoth from sky to earth? My morning rituals are much different, usually first peeing and stealing rations from other travelers. Though, I suppose if the rain represented -- and then the mammoth would represent...


From now on, I think I'll leave matters of theism to the studious, but a mammoth fell from the sky and slammed into the ground, and that was my day. From Riverwood to Markarth, I am four days in, and I'm hardly a fourth the way.



Great.

DAY 49:

I just did a week-long stint in a jail for the theft of a small loaf of bread from the Riverwood Trader. While I do not condone the thievery of one's own livelihood, I had just returned from a long travel, questing for the merchant himself, and noticed the abundance of food across his tables. To be honest, I didn't even mean to pick it up without asking; my hunger had taken hold of me. He screamed immediately and he and his maid sister drew daggers I could not fathom that they had, and began to slice and slash at me until I fled to a corner. Even then, they did not let up until my infantile cries called the Guardsmen in. Rather than question the blades at my throat whatsoever, he immediately demanded I come quietly. When I tried to explain what happened, he too drew his blade and began his murderous hunt! I fled Riverwood then for Markarth. Never would I have dreamed that this man would have followed me across the whole of Skyrim for a small morsel of table scraps. But, that he did. I served my time, and he died of exhaustion shortly after locking my cell. Such dedication.

I only hope I can be as dedicated in my ambition to kill Lucan and Camilla Valerius should I ever venture back to the Eastern rim. I probably won't.

DAY 53:

It seems I may actually be Dragonborn. I was joking last I wrote, but I heard the thunderous crack of the Greybeards a few nights ago, not far from my meager encampment outside Dawnstar. I ignored it, as I'd heard talk of the return of Dragonborn amongst travelers and wayfaring merchants over my journey, but the thunder continued the next night. I thought on it awhile, and last night, not only did the thunder return, but it returned and did not dissipate for a good five seconds. Continuous blasts of thunder exploded all around me, and each time I would turn around, I'd hear it behind me again. My ears bled a little. The old bastards. I definitely got the picture. I'll be sure to return the favor when I visit High Hrothgar and scream as loudly as I can into their ears. It won't do much as I have no mastering of my Thu'um, but I suppose it will be the last chance I get before doing so would scramble whatever lay in those old skulls of theirs. Sweet vengeance. They can't complain either, unless they want to kill me, since they can not speak. And if they can't defend their ear drums with their Thu'um, they're not going to defend them at all. They are powerful in voice, but I fear even greeting hands with any one of them would crush the very foundations of their brittle skeletons.

Thunder all you will, Greybeards. I am not climbing that mountain. Send a carriage or leave me be.