Fawn's Journal; Entry #6

• Posted by Master Zixx February 21, 2013 - 767 views

  Divines! These carriage rides are as boring as Apocrypha! Ironically it gives me time to write in this journal.

   

  It has only been one or two days since my last Journal entry. There seemed to be a war going on between bandits and witches down the mountain from where I was camping. I tried to lie low and stay out of it, which worked for most of the day.

  Per chance more hunters came by and I was still starving. Something I can only excuse as the beast within got me to kill the two hunters and take their pelts, meats and coin. I would need it more than them is what went through my thoughts… now they are dead. Yes they could have lived. My life over a few petty hunters. Competition for fuck sake! They are stealing my game!

   

  --I am once again arguing to a piece of paper. This Journal is not good for my health I don’t think.--

   

  From those pelts I made a backpack as well as a tent. The sun was beginning to set so I awaited the dreaded transformation. I still can’t explain properly what it is like because all I remember is the bloodlust and the terrific and ecstatic pain of turning.

  That is when I got into business with those witches and bandits. I had killed them all before turning back to myself. Though when I turned this time… part of the beast had stayed. I still remember the taste of human flesh on my tongue. It was still there and it made me eager for more. And I was hungry. I know it was wrong. Fucking wrong, and disgusting come to think of it. But I actually ate one of the bandits as human.

  Another bandit had a stunning snow-wolf pelt cloak that I just had to take.

  The next morning I was rudely awoken by a trio of witches. Two kind adventurers wandering buy saved my and also gave me directions to Markarth, thank Kynareth it was close by.

  Once there I repaired my axe, bought a torch, mortar and pestle, cooking pot and a guide to the holds in Skryim. I was not going to be caught unaware by frigid winds again. The nicest place apart from the occasional rain was the rift. With enough game for a lifetime!

   

  I hope no more freaks come bothering me like in Markarth:

  When I entered Markrth a burly old Orc in the strangest combination of leather with steel padding I had ever seen. He was recruiting for some clique called the Dawnguard and a fantasy Vampire apocalypse. Yes I got carried away by vampires. But that does not mean an apocalypse.

   

  I’m just worried for nightfall on this carriage. Maybe it was a better idea to go by foot… too late now. See you when I have set up camp in the Rift, hopefully far away from any madmen that need me for something they can’t seem to do themselves. 

  I hope you enjoyed, comments would be appreciated.

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