—Heartfire, 13Th, 4E 201—
Much has happened since last I penned my journey. The guards in Markarth arrested me for nothing more than asking questions. I killed their first group of three, but somehow, the entire city guard learned of it. I could not take them all. I surrendered.
The prison is not pleasant. Those sentenced there are forced to mine for the Silver-Bloods, making them fat. I came across the king of the Forsworn. My only choice was to lend him aid, in order to win my freedom. I did. It gives me no pleasure to do such a thing, but there was no fine ending to this story. I chose the best for myself.
I don’t know whether that ‘king’ survived his rampage on the city. I left when I could. There is little left for me there. Good riddance.
So it is with great puzzlement that my very next encounter was with an Argonian within an Eyrie called ‘Two-Tails’, claiming to be the ‘Dwarven-born’. He believes the flowers to be intricate listening devices of the Dwemer. He’s quite nuts.
On my journey, I have come across many ruins and caves. One was abandoned by its prior occupants, now teeming with bandits and Forsworn. I must visit again, to see if I can gain access to this ‘Pit’ below.
Finally, I have returned to Whiterun. The road has been long, and shall be even longer in the coming days. But for now, I have earned a rest.