The Beginning of the End

Turdas 8:36 am

The morning dawned and for the first time, Figgin was up before his Bosmer friend. Faendal knew something was different. Figgin knew what he had to do. He knew he could not ask Faendal to continue with him. He was about to embark on journey that would forver change his  life. Two day ago, while in The Sleeping Giant, the bartender had mentioned something about a boy in Windhelm that was performing The Black Sacrament in order to attract The Dark Brotherhood. Figgin had only read of this ritual and heard his father talk about it. It was more of an urban myth than anything else in his mind. However, this was the only lead he had on finding the ever dwindleing Brotherhood and if he had any chance of bringing it to its past glory, he better not delay. The extinction of the Brotherhood loomed on the horizon, better yet, the coast of the Sea of Ghosts. Faendal, being a good soul, was not the type of person to bring along, plus Figgin would rather be alone, at least for his next move.

Figgin told Faendal that it was time to part ways but he would like to, possibly, meet again someday and partner up again. The two elves parted ways and Figgin left Riverwood, this time alone. He may have gotten 2 miles outside the city when he saw an Orc women standing on the side of the road. He recognized her dirty clothes and ashen cracked skin. A Skooma addict or dealer one of the two. Either way Figgin thought to himself, time to make some money here. He crept around the side of a giant boulder and drew his arrow tight. He took aim at her enourous ugly head and let the arrow fly. It struck the Orc in the back of the head and her brains splattered amongst the lavender plant on the side of the road. She never heard or felt a thing. Figgin looted her body and found 6 bottles of skooma on her. As he thought, a dealer. Now skooma was the drug of choice in all of Tamriel and he knew he could make some spetims if he were to sell it. He never touched the stuff himself. Should he wait fr whoever was coming to pick this up or sell it in Windhelm? Too many delays already so he would choose the latter. He carried the orc's body to the wood area just beyond the road and left her there. He sprinkled some skooma on her so nobody would think twice to investigate a an addict's murder, just chalk it up to another victim of the skooma epidemic.

The weather was nice so Figgin decided to opt out of the carriage ride he thought of last night and pursued Windhelm on foot. Figgin was attacked by a bandit, Skyrim is chock full of bandits, guarding a nearby cave entrance. Figgin plunged arrow after arrow into this Nord's body until it ceased to even twitch. What was in that cave that this idiot felt the need to attack me, raced through Figgin's head. Not checking it out was now, not an option. Figgin silently moved throught the cave as if he was an extension of the shadows. With pinpoint presicion, he snipered bandit after bandit until he came to the top entrance that overlooked Whiterun. What an amazing site from up here, it made Figgin almost not hate the new land he found himself in, almost. With not much of anythingin the cave, Figgin only wasted some time and delayed his route to Windhelm. He ate in the cave and resumed his trek.

It was getting very late and dark and Figgin was too far from Windhelm to continue tonight. He needed a place to crash for the night but where. He had left the Overlook cave 3 hours ago and now was on the road and alone. He looked across the river for a cave or a place there but what he found was neither of the two. He found an abandoned prison but figured that waht lay beyond the iron doors was not about to invite him to come in for some drink and food. He decided to move on but would mark this place on his map to visit when he had the time. Just as he turned back to cross the river, he felt a cold stingin his back that sent he reeling into the cold black water. His vision was blurred and all he heard was the rushing water of the waterfall ahead. He regained his footing and grabbed a dangling tree branch, again that cold sensation hit him in the leg, this time it burned his skin. He looked up to see a frost spider, damn, he hated these things. quickly Figgin, conjured up his flame spell and fired a blast of fire at the spider hitting him in the eyes. He then propelled himself to the bank of the river and drew his bow. He fired multiple arrows at the beast quickly bring him to a lifeless mass of legs and green blood. Figgin presse on and came to an old mill that looked a bit overun. Figgin was exhausted from the days events and decided he could find shelter here. He knocked on the servents door but no answer, he turned the knob and to his suprise,  it was unlocked and empty. He decided to sleep there the night. What was the worst that could happen?