Records of the White Wolf

Koray 1 - Day 1 - Arrival in Skyrim

When they find out you cannot see, they say things like, you’re missing the beauty of the world or they label you a hero. You must be very brave to have made it this far in life, they never added the part they should which is “without dying”. They believe when you cannot see, that you are missing a part of the world.

Though I doubt I am missing any part of the world. I have missed nothing, I find it is those who have all their senses that miss the most. I smell probably more than the woman who claims to pick seasonal flowers because she likes the way they smell. I probably feel more with my hands more so than the man who holds a knife in his hand for a living killing.

I feel every fiber of fine hairs and spines, on each thistle I pick, and the velvet of the petals of each mountain flower I pick. I feel the ink that has raised on the paper, leaving embossed trails that I can read. I felt magic, and that’s how I saw. Not traditional sight, no, but I saw. And the very hands that guided me across the lands, that could feel the ink welling at the paper, used the same hands to guide steadily in my journal to write theses passages.

In fact I had more senses than anyone could guess, simply by looking into my deadless expression. I more than likely attributed it to the gifts of Hircine, gifts I did not squander, but instead cherished as a gift. I had nowhere in particular to go today, mostly because I had just arrived in Skyrim. People were speaking of a dragon attack somewhere. Though I had not been directly involved in such an event and I had no care.

I had just arrived in Skyrim, and I was already not use to the chill. Despite being layered in warm robes, the Skyrim cold bit at you. I took the time to pick alchemical ingredients, meanwhile the roads in the distance were busy. There was a business going on, but it had nothing to do with my involvement and I didn’t want to become involved.

I could hear the settling of the brush, as grass was being led down by heaving footsteps.

“Do you need help mister?” asked an aging voice, an elderly man was rasping behind me. Making sure I knew where to cut near the root, I took the flower out before responding.

“There is no need to worry about me,” I responded.

The aging man only made a worried whimpering noise, especially after I had turned in his direction. Not a surprising reaction, that kind of reaction did not surprise me any more.

“Are you-”

“-I am” before he had time to respond.

“Then you mustn't know, they’ve caught Ulfrod Stormcloak in Haven, it was attacked by a dragon, perhaps you want inside a city of protection stranger,”

“Thank you, but I do not need the concern of a stranger,” I responded.

“Sir, there’s a civil war out here, and the wilderness is not safe, if the Stormcloaks and Imperials fighting get to you, then it will be the Thalmor,”

I honestly was not concerned. While, from what I gathered of little time I have hard here, the Nords put their faith in their god Talos. I put mine in the knowledge of Mora and the strength of Hircine. I was not worried about their civil war, no were I worried about this boogeyman known as the Thalmor.

“There is no need to be so concerned, I have made it this far without the concern of others,” I assured him.

“You would know,” the man barked.

What he meant to add was, I would know because I stood facing him, speaking with him, conversing. I was alive, not something most people would believe possible. I was blind, but I was not helpless.

“Again I appreciate your concern, but it is not needed,” I told the man, who only grumbled.

“I’m Ivegor, I own a farm not too far from here, if you change your mind, my doors are open,” the man told me, I could hear the grass once again being crushed by the man’s heavy footsteps.

Kind offers were worth nothing. They were merely that, kind suggestions that people made in order to feel better about themselves. I prefered to distance myself from that reality. I felt great comfort in both silence, and conversing with the dead. Both were more honest than people. Had Ivegor offered me a stay in his farm if he had not seen the state of my eyes? The answer would have been no if I had looked strong enough.

“I am called Koray, by most,” I told the man. Though only because it was the polite way of ending a conversation. I had just arrived in Skyrim, and I came here with goals of my own. I was not worried about the Nord’s boogeymen, because I was a boogeyman they should be worried about as well.

For my father’s legacy. And for the consort of the Princes, I came here on my own terms and my own reasonings.