Glamdring

I woke with clear memory of a dream from the night.  I had rested with Glamdring across my chest, my hands on her hilt, due to my weakened condition.  And she spoke to me. I saw where she has been.  As in most ancient myth and legend there is truth and there is fiction.  She is not a sword of the great war to destroy the elves. Far from it. She is a sword of the elves.  And through her eyes I saw a glimpse of  far more ancient world than my own.

In the dawn of time the elves where here before men but so was evil.  And war was made against that great demonic evil.  Some elves were taken and twisted by this evil into horrible things, orcs.  They were nothing like the orcs of today.  These were terrible stunted creatures driven by hatred and desire for blood and death.  In these days was Glamdring born forged by the hands of a mighty elvens smith.  And she had magic.

For an age she rested in the hallowed grave of a dead elven warrior until discovered by one of the seven ancient guardians sent to this world to overcome the evil that remained from that first age.  And by first age, I do not mean the first age as we consider it in our annals of the history of Tamriel.  No, our world is far older.  There is an ancient land where life first stirred.

I saw Glamdring as a great dragon flew overhead being destorying all.  This mighty monster, nothing like I've ever seen.  It defies even the dragon I saw over Helgen and makes the dragon that defeated the demon Dagon in the imperial city look like a child or a pet.  I saw armies of men, elves, and dwarves make war on this dragon and drive it away.  But then came the orcs seeking for the rumored treasures of the dragon and mighty war of five races.  And Glamdring dripped in blood.

I saw her last great battle against a demon.  A mighty horned goat of fire and smoke and ash, an ancient demon from the time before whose whip of fire sought out the mighty guardian.  I saw them falling so deep into inner caverns below mountains so mighty that they make the great throat look like the hills of the south.  I saw the guardian stab Glamdring deep into it heart with his last strength and she gave all she had.  She gave her life and the magic was drained out of her to destroy this mighty foe.

Lost in time below the mountain she lay. She does not know how she was found.  She awoke in the hands of a young elven warrior in this land.  She lived though merely a shadow of what she once was.  But her soul is still there. She was with this young elf as he made his life, as he and his kind were sought and slaughtered by my kind for land and for glory.  And she wept for the days when elves and men were friends and the enemy was known as the enemy.  This young lord fell in battle and the sword taken with many others. And passed down amongst humans as a trophy, one of many, unrecognized for what she is.  But I know.  She speaks to me. 

This sword is alive.

This sword is living breathing sword.  And I have to wonder if the words inscribed in her could make her power live again if somehow they could be infused with truth and spirit.  I will have to ponder this. 

Near death experience

Ok, I must admit that I miss Faen.  I purchased a horse on my way out of town, and while his body heat is much appreciated, his conversation skills are somewhat lacking.  On the way to meet my new companion, we chanced upon a campsite of sorts with an entrance into the ground.  Thinking it looked quite deserted it beckoned.  I was ambushed inside by a man with quite a set of warrior skills.  I barely survived the battle, having to summon a creature of fire to assist me.  I detest summoning these bound creatures of another world, but it was that or die.  Still as I write this I am deeply wounded.  My healing skills have saved my life, but my arrival will be delayed at the treasure site.  At least it is beautiful here, and a bit warmer.

And speaking of treaure, I have found map for a treasure near Whiterun.  I shall have to look this up upon my return.

Pain hinders my sleep.  And thinking of treasure has me remembering my grandmother and something she shared with me years ago.  Her father had an estate here in the northern lands.  I am not sure where, but I seem to recall she spoke of the great mountain cutting off most of the northern winter sun.  That would place it somewhere to the south of the throat of the world.  Her family name was White, taken I suppose from this snowy land.  A common name, it may be hard to find should I ever go looking for it.  The white hall.  And now that I think of it, she described water falls near the estate, that it was on the water.  I purchased a map before I set out and looking at it I wonder if her ancestral land could be somewhere near Ivarstead on Lake Geir.  It certainly lies in the shadow of the throat of the world.



Now I turn from these pages to rest my eyes and hope my steed fares well during the night.

Companions

Faen does not like these "companions".  He stayed in my home while I sought them out.  No one there seemed to know much about this tribal incursion.  In fact, most seemed surprised and think I am blowing it out of proportion.  I should have brought that letter talking of some invasion with me. 

They have asked me to accompany Farkas on a journey to recover shards of an ancient blade that according to legend comes from the homeland of the ancient elves and was used by the founder of the original companions to finish off the elves in these northern lands.  I skoffed at this, but was told to check with the master of the Sky Forge as he had elven blades passed down in his family line.  He does. 

He has several long swords including one evil dark looking sword and the remnant of what looks like a great ancient weapon. But the most beautiful was a long slim elegent blade.  Clearly ancient but alive and sharp as a razor.  Engraved near the hilt were letters in a long dead language.  He did not know it, but I remember studying this ancient elvish language in my days as a novice at the Citadel.  While I do not know what the word means, the sword would appear to be named Glamdring. 

The forge master did not know how the sword came into his family.  He only knew it came from the time of the founding of the companions. Was it a trophy of war?  Was it looted from an elven soldier or even a lord?  Was it secured through an elf/human marriage?  I was able to talk him into selling it to me for small fortune in gold and in exchange for an enchanted mace I had found deep back in the mines behind Riverwood. 

I decided to join Farkas on his journey.  These elvish blades may be worth looking into.  I have also discovered the mage in the local rulers hall has an enchanting device.  So I made us of this to enchant a few blades, but Glamdring I leave virgin. 

Faen would not join us.  He return to Riverwood.  Farkas left a day or so before myself as I had matters to attend to in town securing my home for an extended absence.  It was pouring the rain as I left once again into the countryside.  What lies ahead?  And who will this Farkas come to be? 

Questions

My feet grow sore from all the walking.  And my head grows sore from the growing number of questions.  And my arms and shoulders are certainly sore for Faen and I have been sparing of late. 

We camped out a few days in the bandit camp, not feeling especially welcome in the town below.  About a half day journey to the east we spotted a castle on a rise.  Thinking to find warm food and a bed for the night we approached, but something seemed wrong, so we delayed and approached under cover of darkness.  We discovered more of the same tribesman holding the walls.  Bow fire thinned the sentries and we reduced the small force of about a dozen men without great difficulty.  We saw no sign of the original garrision, nor did I find any indications as to who these people are and why there are here.  We did discover in the base of one of the towers what appeared to be whole other under layer, but neither one of us could discover a way to enter.

The next morning we headed west making for the Companion lodge to find out more about why I was sent after these tribesmen in the first place.  Two days out we found a cave and once again thinking to find shelter for the night we entered.  We were rapidly beset by a life sucking vampire.  Vampires?  Here? In this age?  There were signs in the upper chambers that more than just the one was present.  Faen and I agreed, this was better left alone, and we departed the area making our way some distance before settling for the night.

The cold hard ground left me sore and was more conducive to thinking than sleeping.  I continue to ponder this connection of blood, dragon, and word.  I was half asleep and in this mid dream like state saw once again the face of Martin's father in my dungeon cell below the captial as he stopped and stared and said "You".  What was it he saw?  I woke and remembered a book I had been reading in my first days at the college. 

I recall an obscure text regarding the emperors of Skyrim that I had read back in the college.  I hadn't thought much of it at the time, as the emperors are now gone, but the text made an interesting suggestion that it was not just direct descendancy that gave the emperor a connection to the Avatar of Akatosh, the great guardian who stands between this created realm and the demonic.  The text mentioned the presence of dragon blood in the line of Uriel Septim. 

It seems like a lifetime ago that I was taken and imprisoned in the keeps below the capital for inability to pay my debts.  A modest swordsman at the time, I had failed to keep a contract protecting a caravan and its loss had ruined me.  But I had desperately needed the work as my wife was ill and the healers demanded a steady supply of gold.  But I failed to secure the gold.  When the emperor allowed me to follow him out of the dungeon and I escaped the city, it was many months before I returned to the small collection of hovels by the docks.  My home was still there, though foreclosed upon.  Neighbors told me my wife had passed quietly in the night.  But that story is of another time.

My thoughts returned to the blood.  What had the emperor seen in me when he said "you!".  Why had Martin trusted me?  Why was the gift suddenly blooming up in the midst of that crisis?  Why does it return quickly now? What is the power of this word that rests in me like a child waiting to be born?

I was still pondering when dawn arrived.  Faen stirred and we set out. 

Near the city we were stopped by a woman fleeing across the countryside.  She exclaimed she had escaped evil men camped out in Mistwatch and asked us to go kill them for her.  I don't even know where Mistwatch is.  She went her way, we went ours.

Near the city Kajit traders were camped out and we made tidy profit selling our looted weapons and armour.  The coins in our pockets were no where near as heavy as the packs on our back.

Journey West

Faen and I traveled west for some two weeks before arriving at our destination to deal with some outlaws that had been troubling a small village hamlet.  I found more than I bargained for.

Before leaving the college I spoke with some of the longer residing students regarding the mysterious orb we had now taken custody of.  One claimed an ancient mage named Magnus was its creator, hence why the archmage wishes me to seek out the staff of Magnus, though no one knows where it is.  And one student recalled a delegation from the Synod of the Citadel that came demanding the staff be entrusted to them. 

This leaves me wondering, if perhaps there was a secret cabal in the Citadel the entire time I was there.  I had thought that my fall from power was orchestrated by the council of the Empire, but could it have been instigated by mages within the Citadel who were hungry for power?  I shall have to be on the watch for mages from the Citadel. 

I traveled to Whiterun by way of Dawnstar.  Faen and I stayed a few days in my home there in town.  It grows cozy now that I am coming into some money and a few books to pass the evenings.  Leaving out and heading west we found the western watch tower in flames, I suspect due to a raid by either the rebels or the imperial forces.  I saw no movement below, but we made a wide detour around the site not wishing to become engaged in these politics.

Not a span to the west we spotted a three man imperial patrol.  We hunkered down and let them pass not wishing to be misunderstood.  A few span further on we were ambushed by a very talented young swordswoman.  She did not look nordic but rather elvish.  I don't know why she thought we were a threat or if she meant to rob us, but she underestimated our skill at arms.  I now find myself in possession of some beautiful elven armour. I am hoping to regain the means for enchanting such items, so will keep them around for a future time.

The plains began to open up and I began to feel hope for this northern land.  Beautiful rugged landscapes lay open before us.  And in the midst, out of nowhere, was an ancient nordic druid shrine.  Once again after solving a short riddle an underground cache opened, but little of consequence was in it.  A bit of gold and a strange book about a treason.  I wonder if the book was important enough at some time to be kept secured away.  It will be added to my library in Whiterun for future research.

Faen spotted a cave about a week into our journey. We both needed rest so decided to make it our home for the evening.  But others were home.  We found ourselves in a nest of bandits.  And of all things they had a mage.  It was a stiff struggle, but I was able to take the mage out from a distance by bow.  I think I may be giving Faen a run for his money in marksmanship, but probably I just got lucky, as the bow is not my best weapon.  It never was. 

The next morning I was surprised by a huge sabercat. I've never seen anything like it before, all fur and teeth and appetite.  Faen took care of it from a distance with an incredible bow shot.  As he was skinning out the hide I looked around and found an altar down below where a few coin and some jewels had been left in token of appreciation to a god named Zenithar.

The rest of the week was uneventful as we drew near to the afflicted hamlet.  It was early evening and we decided to wait a few hours for full darkness then move into the outlaw camp.  There were perhaps a dozen guarding the perimeter but in the darkness they were not much trouble.  But entering the cavern below I discovered a gruesome scene.  Blood smeared all over in one location.  Looking from a balcony we spotted three of the enemy and using our bows took out all but the ring leader.  A battle commenced with him throw waves of cold magic in our direction and I responding with my gift for fire.  With his death I found a horrible site.  He appeared to be half human and half spriggen, those great tree like creatures found throughout our lands.  I decided we should stay in camp and do some research into this mystery.  In one of the small hovels up top I discovered a letter which seems to hint at a larger group of tribal people gathering for concentrated military action to push back invaders.  Are the settlers and townspeople considered invaders?  Does this refer to the imperials?  The rebel stormcloaks?  Does it have anything to do with that foreign mage hanging out at the college?  Or are there other invaders no one seems to have seen yet?

I went into town but the residents there seem largely ignorant of the tribal forces up top. They mayor seems more concerned about being caught up in the war between the rebels and the legion.  But he seemed to know nothing of the tribesmen on the hill top other than he had heard that some people called "the forsworn" were camped out nearby.  I think these are the same people.  Could there forswearing have something to do with the mutation that I saw in their leader?  Fain and I are going to return to Whitehall to speak with the Companion who asked me to look into this matter.  I begin to think there might be more to this group of companions in Whitehall than just a group of swellswords.

I have not been long in this northern land and already my life grows complicated.  A war is brewing.  Rumors of dragons fly everywhere and no one seems to know that Martin was transformed into a dragon to battle the great demon who sought to bring oblivion to our created realm.  The dead are walking, this I have seen with my own eyes.  (Though a few are not walking any longer given the taste of my mace.)  Mages are messing with power I suspect better left alone.  While in myself I find some ancient power I've never sensed before lingering just below the surface.  Is there perhaps a power tied to the land here that is not available elsewhere?  Could this explain the power of the standing stones that I discovered shortly after fleeing Helgen?  Add to this a mage from some land who is up to something, I know not what.  An oracle proclaiming doom is coming?  And now the Companions involving me in some conflict with not outlaws but a tribe of people, at least one of whom has been mutated by magic and I suspect on purpose. 






I am tempted to return to Riverwood and take up chopping wood as a living.

Troubled Dreams

I woke early with troubled dreams.  I dreamt of a strange artifact in the halls below my feet, something left over from the demonic incursion into our world.  A thing of power and summoning. That would be all I would need at this point, another round of demons to fight to save the world.

The oracle warned of danger coming.  I someone being so foolish as to use the new power source to open a doorway to summon a demon forth?  I also found a device in those halls below very similar to the device that I once owned in my tower that would summon and enslave a demon to serve.  But a small book warned that those summoned here would not be slaves but free.

Though I must confess to carrying an artifact on my person.  It came to me from the barrow and calls to me to a journey.  This I have not yet decided upon.

Also troubling is the mage Arakana or whatever. His name is unimportant as the oracle revealed to me that this is not his name.  He is a stranger and now appears to be pretending to be something he is not.  I think he wants the orb.  He may have somehow known of its existence all along.

Faen and I talked late last night.  Should we stay.  Should we go.  What if disaster strikes while we wait?  The dragon, the staff, the criminals.  Once again I find myself in a nexus point where people depend on my decisions.  Something is stirring in the north.  My gut tells me it is all connected somehow.  And the town below the college was devastated once before and the locals blame the school.  And this school is not the Citadel.  It is more a group of independent students blindly wander around. And its leader is more an absent landlord lost in his research than serving as mentor and overseer of his students.  There is no oversight here.  One person here even offered me live test subjects should I desire them. Another student asked me to be the target for their experimental spells.  The college needs help as well.

 But speaking of demons, I have already been attacked by a rogue flame demon in the wilderness near Dawnstar.  How it got here I do not know.  But it was dangerous and deadly.  I am hoping some fool conjured it and could not control it.  The thought of an open portal somewhere would be far worse.

But most troubling is this sense of something coming, like a storm that is lurking just over the horizon.  What is this here where a word calls to me?  Where my blood pounds at the sound of the word, where something feels like it wants to burst forth.  And why do I keep glancing at the sky and jump when the shadow of a eagle passes over?  Something seems amiss in this northern land. So I think perhaps a journey to the west to see more of the land and talk to the people is in order.  Perhaps I will here more of these rumors of dragons.

But we will have to be careful.  For some of the northern lords have risen in rebellion against the empire and legionnaires and rebels are about.  I was always a loyal subject of the empire.  And while I have no love for the council which put me in chains and ordered the Citadel to strip me of gift and title, I am loath to bare weapon against legionnaires.  But my northern friends have welcomed me.  I hope to stay out of this conflict. 

Steps Forward

I am resigned that I may never return south to my former homeland.  So I decided to put myself into the service of a local Yarl and enter a long dead place to retrieve an artifact that have something to say regarding the dragon.  So Faen and I set out heading south once again.  The land is much greener in the south and somewhat warmer.  We stopped by the city of Dawn to check my smuggler's hideout.  There was nothing new.  Perhaps it was an old stash.

The journey was somewhat long once again back to the southern mountains.  The site was on ridge overlooking Riverwood.  Riverwood welcomed us warmly, and after rest and food and trading a few items for some gold, we made the climb to the barrow.  We were not alone.  Bandits foolishly tried kill us, but Fain and I grow used to working as a team.

The barrow was a haunted place,  full of traps and puzzles.  It seemed designed to keep us out, or perhaps to keep something in.  Deep underground we crawled through the tunnels dispelling the dead and our fear.  We found the artifact but something that may be far more significant.

My blood arose.  My gift blossomed with a new talent, one I had never even suspected.  A wall glowed with strange ancient language beneath a large dragon head carved in stone.  The wall spoke to me.  I know that sounds strange, but the word sang to me and found its way into my soul.  But it will not speak forth for me.  I do not know why.  I feel its call to release, its hidden power.  But all attempts to this date to try to active this part of my gift fails.  I don't even where to start or who to talk to about this mystery.



So I decided to return to the college by way of the Jarl's capitol.  He rewarded me with title and I took what small money I had and purchased a humble home and a few furnishing.  If I must remain in the north, I will make a home in the north, such as it is.  But we stayed only a small time, for I felt the need to return to the college of mages. 

There is a mage here who seems more than he claims.  He is from a distant land beyond the sea and meddles in affairs not his concern.  He attempts to intimidate me, and I laugh inside for I who once sat at the pinnacle of the Citadel am now far beyond such games.  And interesting he claimed a mage of the Citadel had come asking for me personally.  I almost ran to meet this mage.  Was I being invited to return home?  Would I be welcomed into the fellowship again?  Only as I drew near did I ponder if perhaps he was here to expose my identity and take me back in chains to the empire.  But how would he have known who I was.  I have not shared that life with anyone.  I have even taken a new name.   And my skills are only a shadow of what they once were.  Surely they must thing I perished in Helgen.

But I was worried for naught, for the mage was not of the Citadel but rather of an obscure order concerned about this new source of power recently discovered by myself and the mages of the college.  He sent me searching for an oracle which I found from one of my teachers was rumored to be in the  halls far below the keep of the college.  He was right.  And the oracle warned of a coming disaster, a terrible tragedy brought about by human hubris and desire for power.  He sought me to find a staff to look through the power to help with the aftermath.  We shall see.

And I hear rumors of a dragon seen in the vicinity of my new home in Whiterun.  Hmmm... perhaps we'll see about that as well.

And I remember my promise to a group of warriors in Whiterun, who have welcomed me to their brotherhood, a fellow companion.  There are outlaws to the west that I should be seeing about.

I could find nothing in the college to help me understand power of the word.  But there is a story going around that a mighty noble of this land killed the king with the power of his voice. Perhaps the answer is out there somewhere.

A Long Month

I said goodbye to my new friends by the River and decided to journey to the last college still operating in the north to see what remains of my gift.  One friend, Faengal, decided to journey with me.  It was a long way to the school. 

This is a bleak bleak land.  Cold.  Rugged.  Our first stop was a small lodge of self-proclaimed watchmen who lookout for demonic activity.  We spent the night here, but found little warmth in their walls.  We traveled on, and had to kill some of the biggest spiders I've ever seen.  I hate spiders.  If anything is the result of demonic influence, it is spiders.  Faen is very good with his bow though. 

We stayed a few days in Dawn by the sea where I discovered an old smugglers haven still loaded with stolen goods.  Not sure if it is active or if these treasures remain from an older time though, will have to check back in a few weeks and see.  Was able to upgrade my wardrobe and weapons and sell some things.  Been very short on funds of late. 

Wandering around we found a shipwreck and I was almost seriously injured by a snow troll, but Faen killed it from a distance.  I owe him my life.  Traveling from Dawn to the Hall of White we were beset by white snow snake demon things.  Faen saved my life again.  They came so fast I couldn't even tell where they coming from.  I was injured and we had find a place for shelter as a storm front was coming in.  I think Faen sucks cold like a newborn babe at breast, but I am a man of the southern mountain. 

We took refuge in an ancient and very strange set of ruins.  Strange metal.  Strange machines.  Dangerous traps.  But safe from the weather.

White hall proved a dissapointment.  There is practically nothing here besides a small limited inn.  Faen decided to say here while I sought out the college.

The college accepted me after a small rather simple test. It is much smaller than the academy in the south and do not hold the academy in high regard here.  I wonder what they would think of me if they knew that once I had risen high but now was cast low.  But my first lesson humbled for it taught me a new magic that I had never even suspected existed before.  How much more can I learn here?

I settled into my humble room and the first full day took a field trip with my fellow students.  My power is stunted but my memory returns. I easily recognized signs of a hidden ward deep inside the dig in ancients ruins.  Dwelving deep into the halls that had seen a living heart in a thousand years, facing the dead, and a couple of rather simplistic puzzle locks, we discovered a power source with unknown benefits and dangers.  Its guardian was very strong, but impotent cut from the source.  I didn't know how to cut the source, but the teacher did, and I made short work of this guardian.  My sword arm grows stronger again.

At the dig I saw a startling sight.  A burned body.  Mark of a dragon.  Had Martin been here?  Was my transformed friend this far north?  Was he fleeing to alien lands?  Had he forgotten all that he was or was he simply so angry that he would kill all?  Or is it even Martin?  I don't know.  I've seen no sign of the dragon.  But others, including the remnants of a caravan, have complained of dragons plaguing the land, especially in the hinter regions (as if this area could have more rugged barren places than I have already seen). 

But back to the power source.  It is alien and the books we needed to explore were stolen.  So I sought them out and retrieved them facing many strong adversaries who had gone rogue.  In the end it was a lady mage who was trying to form an evil cabal for some reason, I'll never know now since she no longer speak to the issue.  She tried and almost succeeded in killing me.  I left Faen behind because this was foe to great for him.  Flame demons and blizzard winds were conjured.  But in the end my gift and my arm was enough for now. 

Oh, what I would give for my ancient enchanted blade of the Blades, my armour that made the gift and blood flow.  But the imperials have stolen it.  Locked up on some vault or on some trophy rack in a nobles hall in the capitol for all I know.  The blade of my friend, who gave his life defending the world from the first major demonic incursion, is also gone.  Maybe it still rests in its case in my old castle.  I don't know. 

But I have new sword with a bit of power, and a bow with a bit more.  I have robes that make the gift stronger.  And day by day my blood grows thicker and my muscles regain their strength and movement.  I am coming alive again.  And I find one gift of some value still remains in full.  I can still draw, so I am illustrating my journal with art to convey this journey.



So I have decided a personal test is in order.  A Jarl has asked me to retrieve a tome of dragons.  Perhaps it will help me discover if the dragon is Martin or not.  So I am returning south to the barrow to find what I find.  Faen will journey with me.  I may even settle in and buy a house, though some Jarl I don't know has invited me to his lands far away and even offered me a bit of land to build my own.  But more coin is thin.  Hmmm... maybe on the way south I'll take a bit of a detour and stop by the city of Dawn first and see if the smugglers are still active.

Waking

I don't recall much of what came before.  I was a hero.  I helped save them all.  I went into the very pit of hell and fought the enemy where he lived and defeated him.  When the final battle came, I stood beside my friend as he gave his life to save us.  And they accuse me of murder.  They say I killed the emperor.  But I did not.  The emperor is still there, encased in stone, but they don't believe.

I was arrested, beaten, tortured, my body broken, the magic of my soul stripped.  No longer part of the academy.  No longer licensed with the guild.  My weapons, armour, artifacts, even my homes taken.  My castle of frost burned to the ground by the mages I served.  My castle of arms given to an upstart family.  I know not of my home by the sea or my home in the hinterland - probably sold to enrich the imperial treasury.

And taken chains I was dragged north to be imprisioned forever in that frozen waste land of the Nords.

We passed through the pass Pale, a place of significant history to me in the past.  This time though, there was not a whisper from the ghosts there.  My ancient glory had faded to less than the rags I wore.  My body hurt.  It was no longer my own.  My soul had lost faith.

I was there the day the fire consumed Helgen.  At first I thought it was my friend, returned to life, to wreck vengeance upon those who had wronged me.  And I am not certain at this time if that is not so.  Could my brother Martin have so lost himself into the dragon that he does not remember.  Or maybe he does and he sought me out.  It is worth pondering...this dragon.

I escaped, with the help of a northman.  Stumbling down and north into the cold rocky landscape I found a small village near the river and was able to secure work for food.  Chopping wood of all things.  I have chopped armor and demons and monsters and even men, but now I was chopping wood for my breakfast.  But it was good work and my strength begins to slowly return. 

Indeed, my old self comes back, rising to life again.  This some useless bandits in an old mine discovered to their demise.  And I find that my gift is not extinguished, but rather stunted, seriously so compared to what it was.  I cannot remember the words or the motions.  But I can learn.  I have the gift of fire again and frost and lightening.  And I can heal. The core is there. 

I made a new friend in the town by the river and he joined me as we journied north - I wanted to see Pale pass.  But the imperial forces have locked it down.  I cannot pass south.  I would appear that the north will be my home for some time.

I've me the local leader who wants me to go into some dank dangerous barrow to retrieve an important artifact regarding dragon.  I may, but not yet.  I am too weak.  I was almost killed by some pompous sellswords bought by someone I pissed in this little regional capital I visited.  So I am traveling to a college in the far north to see if I can relearn my gift.