Snippet #2148837

Adanion:

The streets of Whiterun were teeming with activity. The myriad of strange noises in large towns had always made him tense, and under the current cirsumstances, he wished that he could silence everyone. Making use of his nimble Elven feet, he hurried to the cloud district. His only guide was the pale light of the moon. His heart pounded like a hammer on cloth, pulsing through his limbs until the vibrations reached his very fingertips. Sweat dripped from his brow, stinging as it seeped into his eyes. "They could be anywhere. . ." Adanion said to himself in a whisper. It was mere seconds before a Thalmor mage appeared around the corner.

As the Thalmor's eyes met his, Adanion felt fear jabbing at his heart. He ran. He ran like a frightened deer, attempting vainly to escape death. But it was too late. A horrendous pain struck his leg, and they responded by sending him hurdling into the ground. His nostrils were filled with the pungent odor of burning flesh—his burning flesh. He glanced down at his leg, where the pain seemed to stem from, and was horrified to find that the skin on his leg was completely gone; torn away by a raging fireball.

He screamed, begging for assistance from any who would offer it, but his pleas went unanswered. As he lay, he felt the world slip away from him. He gave in to what he considered his fate. It is forunate that he was wrong. A man appeared. He smiled assuringly at Adanion, or at least it appeared that way to Adanion in his dream-like state. Adanion heard the Thalmor mage release a blood-curdling screech that was cut off abruptly.

During these events, Adanion's eyes never left the magnificent man before him. His skin; beautiful, flawless, and glowing with an ethereal green aura. His gait; confident, graceful, and masculine. Adanion fought the urge to cry, but he could still feel a warm stream falling down his cheeks.

"Your story is not yet finished, Adanion. It is just beginning. Go forth, my son. May your paths always be green and golden." The stranger declared, his voice deep and reassuring. As he spoke, Adanion felt the pain in his limbs fade. His every fatigue and aching pain vanished, and he felt as if he had been born again. His eyes closed, and his world became darkness.

---

Sitting up, Adanion awoke with a start. His every sense as sharp as a razor. He was in a small cabin, the light of candles dancing on the hard wooden walls. Underneath him, was a small wooden cot. He moaned, his head wreathing in pain. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and reached instinctively for his dagger, but to his dismay it was not there. He looked up, and before him was a beautiful woman.

"You are awake! This is good. How do you feel?" She asked, her voice revealing her interest.

"I—I feel wonderful. Who are you? Where am I?" Adanion replied to the maiden.

"My name is Camilla Valerius, and you sir, are in Whiterun. We found you passed out near the house of Clan Gray-Mane. What happend to you?"

Memories swirled in Adanion's mind. The Thalmor agent. . . The man. . . Who were they? His head began to ache, and he moaned, "Ugh. . . I am not completely sure." He sat up, and removed himself from the bed.

"Careful now. You might be injured and not even know it." Camilla cautioned, steadying Adanion by placing a hand around his arm.

Adanion looked down at his leg, and let out a gasp of amazement. The flesh was completely intact, in fact, a scar that he had beared there for years was gone. The skin itself was soft and new. He caressed it before returning his gaze to the woman.

"Thank you for opening your home to me, but I must go now. I have a destination to reach." Adanion explained as he reached into his pocket and handed Camilla a few septims.

"No thanks is needed. I simply did what I would have wanted someone to do for me. Even so, you are welcome." She replied, stuffing the septims into a pocket in the front of her apron. As Adanion made his way for the door, he heard, "Wait! I never caught your name, stranger."

He turned back to Camilla and said, "My name is Adanion Eldenhearth." And with that, he exited the house. Making sure to shut the door securely after leaving. As he walked through the streets of Whiterun, he spotted a flyer nailed into the wall of a house. It said,

Adventurers,
Are you alone in this life? Do you wander without purpose? Do you seek to do good in this world? In an attempt to help reform Skyrim since the Dragonborn Crisis, The Watchers Guild has been formed. We are located in Helgen, and any are welcome to join. Simply report to our Guild Hall, and speak with our leader Lyra Victus. We look forward to your arrival.

Hmmm. . . Adanion entertained the thought.

---

Soon, he found himself at the gates of Helgen. Upon entering the courtyard, he saw a tall Orc conversing with a Khajiit. He decided to approach, even though his gut twisted when he looked at the Orc. "Uhm... Hello," He began awkwardly. "Do either of you know where I could find a woman named Lyra Victus?"