Character: Staboyo,
Class: Psycho-Killer
Race: Dunmer

Mental Journal of Staboyo the Psycho-Killer (if you need to ask why a Psycho-Killer narrates his own life to himself, you're not paying attention)
Day 1
A Lucky Break!! I manged to escape from prison during the chaos of an imperial assassination!! The senile old emperor practically forced me to take his amulet, babbling about delivering it to someone named... Jeffery or Jerry or something. The damned Captain of the blades just stood there mumbling incoherently about how he had failed his duty and didn't seem to want the thing... It looks valuable but I doubt anyone would be willing to buy such a dangerous item... If a guard caught them with it the consequences would be terrible. I certainly dont want the blasted thing but for some reason I cant throw it away!! Its definitely cursed! Finally decided the safest place to hide it was on my own person... in a place where the guards wouldnt search were I to be arrested.... again.

Had a terrible time hiding the cursed amulet... Walking is incredibly uncomfortable now but I suppose I'll get used to it eventually, besides the excitement of finally being out of the prison and free from demented ramblings of the prisoner in the next cell had put me in an excellent mood. Decided it was best to put some distance between me and the Imperial city so I crossed the river and started to head as far away from the Legion and its self-righteous guards as I possibly could... As I passed by some nearby ruins I was suddenly attacked by two bandits! A redguard woman wielding a deadly (and rusty) looking axe as well as a Dunmer Archer charged out from behind some broken pillars, spewing threats of violence. The dunmer at least was clearly insane because he kept screaming about how I was a "Traitor to my own race", despite the fact that it was he and his ugly friend that were attacking me. I put the sword I had pilfered during my escape to good use and quickly slew the odd duo. I stood above their tattered corpses in bewilderment for a short while before realizing what an excellent opportunity this was... I quickly stripped them of their armour (no more prison rags for me!!) and grabbed whatever goods I could from the tents they had pitched outside the ruins. (mostly lettuce but a bit of ham as well)

I was more suitably armed now and feeling rather emboldened by my recent string of good fortune (being provided an escape route from prison and free, albeit bloody fur armour) I decided the ruins warranted further exploration. Perhaps the pair outside were part of a band I could join... Its always better to have friends when you're an outlaw... Even if your friends have to be murderous cut-throats of questionable mental stability. But what if they wanted revenge for the comrades I slew?? I would have to approach this endeavour with great care... I decided it would be most prudent to advance stealthily into the ruins and observe any bandits I found before propositioning them.... If only I had a quill and some paper I could draw up a resume... Alas my previous one had been taken by those blasted legion soldiers when they arrested me.... I'd just have to play it by ear and hope for the best... I quickly prepared a mental list of reasons why the bandits should take me into their fold, took a deep breath to steel my resolve and then plunged into the darkness of the ruined citadel...

*Here's the List*
-Quick with a blade
-Good at sneaking into places
-Clearly my ability in combat was greater than the sum of the two recently deceased lookouts
-A basic understanding of magic
*------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------*

Day One continued...

It had been several hours since Staboyo descended into the Ayleid ruins. Despite the complete and utter failure of his attempt at joining the small group of bandits the Dark Elf was in quite a good mood. True, the outlaw organization that had at first seemed such a promising source of manpower, had proven unreasonable and required slaughtering down to the last man, but the excursion into ruins hadn't been totally without profit. The clever elf had come into possession of a number of valuable magical stones that would surely fetch a good price at the Mages Guild as well as an ancient Ayleid statue that seemed to be worth a few septims itself.

The endeavor had gotten off to a poor start. Shortly after entering the ruins, Staboyo had been discovered by a massive redguard warrior while descending a circular stairwell . The Dark elf had carefully made his way down the spiral staircase, being mindful to watch for trip wires or trap panels but had failed to notice the shadowed form hiding within a little alcove off to the side. The Bandit it seemed, was quite adept at concealing his presence despite his large frame. However it became apparent that either he was not smart enough to utilize the advantage of an ambush or he didn't think he'd need it to deal with the puny elf creeping into his lair, as he suddenly stepped out of his hiding place effectively blocking Staboyo's path. The bandit was good two heads taller than the lithe dark elf and like his fellows above was clad in ragged fur armour that looked like it had been through many battles. His heavy-browed, scowling face was crisscrossed with a multitude of scars that only amplified his menacing presence. Staboyo quickly flashed an easy smile and raised his hands as a token of parley. "Well met mighty war..." he started but his greeting was cutoff mid-sentence by the lusty battlecry of the charging sentry. The redguard warrior leapt at Staboyo with surprising speed, a massive two-handed maul held at the ready high above his head. Staboyo barely got out of the path of the vicious swing in time, leaping to the side at the very last moment as the heavy head of the iron hammer crashed into the stone staircase, shattering the ancient tiles. Before Staboyo could recover the raging guard followed up with a second lethal backhanded blow that smashed into the nearby wall to devastating effect. Sparks and stone fragments tore through the air as Staboyo ducked below the weapons murderous arc. There was no time to think and certainly no time to talk the warrior down, seeing his opening Staboyo charged the redguard, unsheathing his blade mid-leap, responding to the danger with a hoarse battlecry of his own. The steel tip of his shortsword tore through tattered fur armour as easily as it would old parchment and Staboyo buried his blade up-to-the-hilt in his enemy's heavily muscled chest. A choked cry of anguish bubbled out from the stricken warrior's lips along with a spray of deep, crimson blood. The heavy hammer he had wielded so effectively fell from his nerveless grasp and clattered down the steps noisily. The Redguard stared into Staboyo's eyes for a brief moment, shock and terror evident on his face, before his legs gave out and he toppled over backwards, rolling down the stairs and into a crumpled heap at their base.

Meanwhile the cunning Dark Elf had already ducked into the very same alcove within which his assailant had been lying in wait. His shortsword had been wrenched out of his grasp and now lay at the bottom of the staircase along with the dead guard. From deeper within the ruins he heard cries of alarm and the clatter of oncoming footsteps. "Well that went well." he thought ruefully. "So much for reasoning with them." Staboyo slipped an iron dagger out of its sheath as he disappeared into the shadows, with a bloodthirsty grin dancing across his face and murder in his eyes.

*Later*

The long silent ruins rang with the sound of clashing steel as a solitary figure, clad in ragged, blood-soaked fur-armour battled pair of living skeletons. They were creatures of nightmare, walking bones clothed in tattered remains of ancient cloth and armour. They shambled forward relentlessly, rusted axes clutched in their bony hands. The undead monstrosities were tireless and mercilessly assaulted the lone warrior, assailing him with an endless barrage of blood thirsty blows. It was all Staboyo could do to keep the creatures at bay, using his shortsword and a shield of reinforced leather that he had "acquired" from one of the bandits that had been using the ruin as their hideaway. The skeleton on his left attacked with a lethal blow aimed at his head but Staboyo managed to block it with his shield. Before he could retaliate however the second skeleton leapt forward from his right, chopping down at his chest. Staboyo deflected the axe with his sword, slashing at its iron handle and throwing off the nightmare creature's attack, then before either monster could renew their assault he locked his shield arm and barreled into the leftmost skeleton. The twisted monstrosity was knocked off its feet by the sudden weight of his charge and tumbled to the floor with a clatter of dried bones. Before it could regain its feet Staboyo ran up behind it and kicked it in the head with all of his might. The ancient bones snapped under the force of the blow and its skull was sent flying across the cavernous chamber. If the remaining skeletal warrior felt grief at the loss of its comrade, it did not show it. The undead creature simply continued to attack Staboyo with an endless series of vicious blows. However its attacks were that of a mindless construct and now that it had lost the advantage of superior numbers, the faster Dark Elf easily dodged its clumsy swings, using the created opening to lop its head off with a well placed stroke of his sword.

Staboyo leaned against the cold, stone wall panting, taking a moment to catch his breath. These undead monsters may not have been particularly strong or skilled, but they were touched by neither fear nor fatigue and their single-minded pursuit of his blood had taken quite a toll on the Dunmer warrior . His armour was marked by several fresh tears and a jagged cut ran down his left cheek, spilling a steady flow of dark blood down his chin and onto the dead stone beneath him.
He had lost track of how many hours had passed since he had first entered the ruined Ayleid citadel but estimated at least three or four. The bandits he had meant to proposition were now all corpses, lying in puddles of congealing blood on the upper levels of dilapidated fortress. After being discovered shortly upon entry, his plan had rapidly degenerated and he had been forced to battle the band of cutthroats using a combination of stealth and ambushes. Within a chamber that they had been using as a storeroom, Staboyo had discovered a number of shining blue stones that "stunk of magicka". A journal written by the leader of the band had detailed a plan to sell them to the mages guild and the avaricious Dunmer had gladly taken the idea up for himself. Of further interest though was the bandit's mention of strange sounds from deeper inside the ruin and the disappearance of one of their number. The simple-minded thug had chalked it up desertion but Staboyo didn't want to spend the night without knowing exactly what he was sharing a camp with. As he ventured deeper into the ancient structure Staboyo had come across a number of horrors, living skeletons, somehow animated and still guarding the keep's deserted hallways!

Even deeper within the forgotten vault he had stumbled across a large open chamber with a raised dais in its center. Upon the dais lay the lost Khajit bandit. A look of pure terror was frozen on her face and her limbs were splayed out so that they formed a macabre pentagram. The gruesome sight filled Staboyo with dread and he had been very careful and quick while rifling through her pockets for valuables.

He had lost count of how many skeletons he had dispatched but Staboyo was certain that a good number still haunted these dead hallways. He could hear their eerie creaking as they shambled about searching for prey. Despite his wounds and fatigue Staboyo pushed himself onward. Drawn by the promise of whatever treasure was worth all this protection. He would find whatever these creatures were guarding, be it magickal artifact or a simple treasure horde and take it for himself. The thought of it caused a greedy grin to spread across his face and infused his limbs with the strength to carry on the struggle a bit longer.


Later Still

The Dunmer warrior sat resting on a musty crate within a large hall, nonchalantly chewing a piece of cheese. A cheery fire burned in the center of the chamber infusing the otherwise cold and unforgiving stone with a measure of welcome warmth. The room it seemed, had recently been converted into a shrine or necromantic laboratory of some sort as a number of skeletons, some ancient and others less so, lay scattered all about it. At one end was a large, raised stone slab that had apparently been used as an operating table, with its last victim still laying in a painful, twisted heap upon it. Thankfully the ancient bones still seemed completely inanimate.

Staboyo hungrily wolfed down the remainder of the cheese and then began fishing in his pack for a bottle of pilfered wine and a bit of ham. Holding the ham in one hand he uncorked the bottle with his teeth and spat the cap out into the fire. He helped himself to a deep draught and the thick, sweet liquid immediately filled him with a pleasant and relaxing warmth. "Not bad at all." he mused, raising his eyebrows as he appraised the vintage. "Far better than prison fare anyhow!!" he laughed out loud. He had developed the bad habit of thinking aloud during the long years spent languishing in the darkness of the Imperial prison. As he started on the ham, Staboyo made a mental note to keep the habit in check when he was in public. "Not that it matters right now with only the dead to hear me, eh Jalbert?!?" he cackled merrily, kicking the eviscerated corpse of the hall's former master. The Necromancer lay in a tattered and bloody heap at Staboyo's feet, his guts hanging out of a brutal gash running from the left side of his abdomen straight through to his spine. In death the sorcerer's face had frozen into an ugly mask of hate and agony and his long tongue hung out of his still-snarling mouth like a fat, purple worm.

Here was the master of the undead monstrosities that had so harried Staboyo. After fighting his way past the remainder of the reanimated guards, Staboyo had caught the Necromancer unaware within his sanctum. He had been enjoying using the bandits as a steady source of fresh bodies for his foul sorceries from the security of his haven. Shielded by his immortal, soulless guardians and confident in his own abilities, the mage had grown complacent and saw no reason to fear for his safety. Staboyo had lingered in the shadows, unwilling to face a powerful magick-wielder head on. He had made his way up a side passage onto a balcony overlooking the large, open chamber from which he could easily survey the area. Then it had been a simple matter of waiting for the right moment to drop down behind the wizard and put a blade into his vitals... or so Staboyo had thought.

Plunging his dagger into the necromancer's back had not produced the desired results at all. Instead of screaming and dying in agony the mage had responded with an unearthly cry of rage. As unholy, necormantic energy began immediately healing the wound, he swung his fist at Staboyo in a powerful backhanded blow that sent the would-be assassin sailing across the chamber. Staboyo crashed into the far wall with bone shattering force and crumpled to the floor stunned. Black spots danced in and out of his vision obscuring his sight. Suddenly he heard a strange electrical hum and felt the air prickle his face with pure energy. On instinct Staboyo rolled behind a nearby pillar as a bolt magickal lightening ripped through the air and into the space he had been occupying a second earlier. Adrenaline and the thought of the being roasted alive kept the Dunmer warrior moving though his body ached to simply collapse. He darted across the sanctum, using its broken pillars for cover and crouching low to keep out of the line of fire. Once he had gotten as close as possible Staboyo leapt out of cover and charged the necromancer, blade drawn. Jalbert fired another bolt of sorcerous lightening scorching the wall behind Staboyo as he zigzagged the last few meters. Then, with a desperate cry he ran headlong into the mage, ramming his sword straight into the wizard's chest. The necromancer was bowled over by the charge and fell to the ground, his staff knocked from his grip clattered uselessly to the floor a few feet away. Staboyo then proceeded to mercilessly hack at the fallen mage, pitting his bloody-minded thirst for violence against whatever evil, magick knitted the sorcerer's foul flesh together. By the time Staboyo had exhausted its regenerative powers, Jalbert's corpse was covered with dozens of ghastly wounds, each fatal in itself.

Victorious, the blood soaked warrior finally gave in to weariness and fell over. He lay there amidst Jalbert's blood and guts for awhile gathering his remaining energy. Eventually he rose and treated himself, wrapping his multiple wounds in bandages and drinking a restorative potion to help heal them. Once he was feeling a little stronger he had then searched the chamber for whatever valuables he could find, anything that would have made all this trouble worthwhile.

On a table in the corner, the warrior discovered an unsent letter written by the Necromancer. Letter in hand Staboyo settled down beside the recently deceased mage's fire and opened his pack to have his evening meal. The stolen pack was filled with the possessions and supplies of the dead bandits and he now had plenty of food and gold for the next few weeks of travel. As he ate Staboyo bgan reading the dead man's letter. According to it, the wretch had been driven from his home in Daggerfall after being found practicing Necromancy. Luckily the Guard Captain that had caught him in the act, a 'Captain Aluc Cardius', had been a close friend and allowed him to escape while staging a pursuit. Jalbert's letter was apparently one of gratitude, assuring the Captain that he was safe and still practicing his craft from a new haven. Staboyo took another healthy swig of the wine as he reread the letter. It seemed a risky thing to so clearly state the names of his co-conspirators... What if the letter was discovered? His allies would have been ruined, the guard would have all the proof they needed within the letter. Had Jalbert really been that foolish?

"Foolish enough to get caught and foolish enough to fall on my blade." the Psycho-Killer mused. Perhaps it was possible, but something didn't quite fit.... No, this wasn't carelessness. This was a calculated act of revenge. The letter was meant to be found! Jalbert's activities had been brought to light and he had been driven from his home by this Captain Cardius. Now he wanted revenge. What sweeter vengeance could there be than to condemn his accuser through the very crime he battled against?
Staboyo was developing a newfound sense of respect for the necromancer's creativity and vindictiveness. The warrior looked down at Jalbert's lifeless form and grinned wickedly. "You may have your revenge after all my foolish friend" he quipped as he pocketed the letter. If he had a chance he would see about sending it on to it recipients. After all it would be cruel to deny them news of their stalwart "ally".

Staboyo had decided to eventually make his way towards the City of Cheydinhal to the east as it had a large Dunmer population amidst which he could easily disappear. But for now he was content to merely enjoy the warmth of the fire and the sweetness of freedom.

He raised his bottle in a toast to the empty, blood streaked chamber. "To new beginnings!" he cheered, a malicious grin playing upon his fine features.


*Day One End*