Delusional
Connoisseur of Hallucinations
“I never thought this would happen. I never thought that I would lose him. Throughout my entire life, I never imagined this. I never imagined it would happen this way. After losing my mother the way I did… I can’t bear to lose my father in the same manner. What could I do? I could look for him. I could embark on a journey, not ceasing until I have some sort of closure. But that’s not what I did. I wandered. I traveled Skyrim as I had been doing, a lost soul, trying to forget about it, trying to block it all out of my mind.
Ha, that didn’t work.
No, that didn’t work at all. I was miserable. Trying to bottle it all up… it just eats at you. Eats away at your humanity. Your sanity.
So here I am now. Here I am to do what I once feared. Here I am to begin the search for him. My father. I will find him. I will find him, and I will find his research. And for his sake, I will continue it. To honor him and his life, this I will do.”
To honor him and his life, this I will do. The words echoed through Marcus’ mind as he closed the journal, empty up until this point. He was never one for documenting his pasts, but he felt like the occasion warranted it.
Marcus looked up from the worn journal to the gaze upon the vista before him. The golden plains of Whiterun Hold stretched out in all directions, with the glorious city of Whiterun seated in the center, keeping a watchful eye from its commanding location, all cast in the sun’s early morning glow. Mountains shrouded in morning mists rose from the horizon in the distance, their snow-capped peaks reaching for the sky.
Marcus rose from the bluff where he was seated and dusted off his ratty leather armor before setting off down the well-traveled path. A leather swordbelt swung idly from his hip as he walked; a yew longbow was slung across his back, along with a small quiver of steel-tipped arrows.
Running a gloved hand through his greasy hair, Marcus sighed, exhausted. It had been days since he had last slept; the journey here had been taxing. Though his legs ached and begged for respite, he continued down the path and into the expansive plains, headed for Whiterun.
* * *
By the time he reached the city, the sun had risen above the horizon and the people of Whiterun were beginning their day. Bustling crowds had already gathered in the market, browsing the stalls’ wares, from imported fish and clam to fine jewelry. Marcus weaved through the throngs of citizens and slipped through the door of the Bannered Mare Tavern.
The fire had just been stoked, and an inviting aroma met the weary Imperial man as he entered the tavern. Fresh baked bread, he concluded. His mouth began to water; he had not realized how hungry he was. It had been at least two days since he last at a full meal, after all. Marcus approached a vacant wall of the tavern and used a rusted iron dagger to impale a small parchment in the wooden wall.
“Looking for adventurous individuals to assist in expedition. See Imperial upstairs for details.”
After the note had been tacked to the wall, Marcus stopped at the bar counter, purchasing a room, along with a loaf of warm, soft bread, a thick, steaming vegetable broth and a bottle of fine wine before ascending the stairs and disappearing behind the door. He trusted that any adventurer who wished to inquire further about this offer would be smart enough to peek behind the door in their search for this employer.
The room was not large by any means, but it suited Marcus’ needs sufficiently. A small bed was nestled along the wall in the far corner of the room, neatly fixed and clean. A nightstand adjacent to the bed held a small candle, its flame flickering as wax slowly dripped down into the brass holder. Marcus took a seat at a table tucked away in a second corner, setting his food down around the cast iron lantern that occupied most of the modest table’s surface.
Now, I wait, Marcus thought idly as he tore off a morsel of bread and began to eat his meal.
Ha, that didn’t work.
No, that didn’t work at all. I was miserable. Trying to bottle it all up… it just eats at you. Eats away at your humanity. Your sanity.
So here I am now. Here I am to do what I once feared. Here I am to begin the search for him. My father. I will find him. I will find him, and I will find his research. And for his sake, I will continue it. To honor him and his life, this I will do.”
To honor him and his life, this I will do. The words echoed through Marcus’ mind as he closed the journal, empty up until this point. He was never one for documenting his pasts, but he felt like the occasion warranted it.
Marcus looked up from the worn journal to the gaze upon the vista before him. The golden plains of Whiterun Hold stretched out in all directions, with the glorious city of Whiterun seated in the center, keeping a watchful eye from its commanding location, all cast in the sun’s early morning glow. Mountains shrouded in morning mists rose from the horizon in the distance, their snow-capped peaks reaching for the sky.
Marcus rose from the bluff where he was seated and dusted off his ratty leather armor before setting off down the well-traveled path. A leather swordbelt swung idly from his hip as he walked; a yew longbow was slung across his back, along with a small quiver of steel-tipped arrows.
Running a gloved hand through his greasy hair, Marcus sighed, exhausted. It had been days since he had last slept; the journey here had been taxing. Though his legs ached and begged for respite, he continued down the path and into the expansive plains, headed for Whiterun.
* * *
By the time he reached the city, the sun had risen above the horizon and the people of Whiterun were beginning their day. Bustling crowds had already gathered in the market, browsing the stalls’ wares, from imported fish and clam to fine jewelry. Marcus weaved through the throngs of citizens and slipped through the door of the Bannered Mare Tavern.
The fire had just been stoked, and an inviting aroma met the weary Imperial man as he entered the tavern. Fresh baked bread, he concluded. His mouth began to water; he had not realized how hungry he was. It had been at least two days since he last at a full meal, after all. Marcus approached a vacant wall of the tavern and used a rusted iron dagger to impale a small parchment in the wooden wall.
“Looking for adventurous individuals to assist in expedition. See Imperial upstairs for details.”
After the note had been tacked to the wall, Marcus stopped at the bar counter, purchasing a room, along with a loaf of warm, soft bread, a thick, steaming vegetable broth and a bottle of fine wine before ascending the stairs and disappearing behind the door. He trusted that any adventurer who wished to inquire further about this offer would be smart enough to peek behind the door in their search for this employer.
The room was not large by any means, but it suited Marcus’ needs sufficiently. A small bed was nestled along the wall in the far corner of the room, neatly fixed and clean. A nightstand adjacent to the bed held a small candle, its flame flickering as wax slowly dripped down into the brass holder. Marcus took a seat at a table tucked away in a second corner, setting his food down around the cast iron lantern that occupied most of the modest table’s surface.
Now, I wait, Marcus thought idly as he tore off a morsel of bread and began to eat his meal.