I passed out yesterday...no, today...no, both days..I - I couldn't remember. Can't remember a thing.

A little unedited. Sorry.

I tightened my cloak around myself, because I was going light, today. It protected me, and I hope Mikael's necklace did, too, like he'd said. The only thing I was allowed to put on was my gauntlets during recovery. I snuck out my Dwarven shoulder pads when I got ready to walk with Mikael, as well, and still had en in my sack, thankfully, along with my change. Now my sack was virtually empty, rid of my armor articles that I'd attached to myself, save from what jangled in it, and I needed to get more of such money if I were to survive somewhere I had no idea where I was at. I didn't return from selling along with Mikael carrying a boatload of septims. Which could be good and bad, monitoring the situation.

The little money I did had I made sure I spent on a sword. I didn't like the idea walking around unarmed and basically unarmored. I had no partner with me. I had nothing but a vague memory of where I was, and I was hoping I wasn't in Sovngarde, the place that I believed everyone who talked to me today had just covered up with the name "Markath". Markath's waterfalls were heavenly, and the mountainous terrain on which it was built was massively beautiful, and it reminded me so much of what a paradise like Sonvngarde would look like. Then it came to my mind, though, what Sam had also said: I only remember this drinking buddy's name is Sam because of the paper I saw on the floor of Dibella's temple, when I woke up in there today - for some odd reason, the only thing I can remember doing so far since I'd drank with Sam, more than him, a dark liquid which he gave me that was too strong for him even. He said, "I know a place where the water flows like wine." So this must've been his letter on the floor of the temple as I've been thinking, and this must be his plan. Because also, before I fainted, I heard him say something about a staff as well. That I won it. That that was what the contest was for, anyway. He had promised me a staff if I could drink more than him, and he even wrote something about me winning a staff on the letter I found on the floor of the temple.

When I looked at the letter after having wandered out of the temple and finding it a pain in the butt to try looking for the temple again in order to clean it up since one of the clergy ladies of the temple wouldn't speak to me on anything I said when I was drunk if I didn't clean her temple, such words I wanted to know about (and after that cleaning was done I according to her had business with a goat, she revealed), I finally had a nuance of what I was supposed to do...some direction for my moral-lorn night. Or days.

I couldn't have been drunk for days, though, could've I? Then again, alchemy was strong these days...and if he mixed in a few ingredients prolonging the disillusionment...well, let's just say with my condition in that state, anything could've been possible.

But Sam didn't harm me and this just seemed like a really sour prank. He must've left that letter or I must've gotten it from him a while ago since I was here in Markath, a city marked on my map that I updated when I saw the battle plans in cities sometimes, like when I first entered Whiterun and saw them, as some place far west of Whiterun, and such was not near any territory I've ever chartered or would've known existed if it weren't for my map saying so. What was I doing all that time I came here? I couldn't figure it out now. Especially because as soon as I tried looking around for anything or anyone familiar in vain, a stupid murder happened. And a stupid guard told me and everyone else to leave the site of it, but this smart man gave me a paper he said I'd dropped. Great, another paper mystery to unfold.

I glanced at Sam's when I had picked it up, but I didn't even get a chance to look at the murder witness' letter until later, when I actually cared. For now I was busying myself with a nice payment to a lady for a sword, as I told you I ended up buying despite my nakedness armor-wise; and then feeling slightly better for protection, I finally started mingling with the citizens.

The murder I told the merchant lady who sold me my sword about was actually the Forsworn's, a gang's that had been terrorizing the city even since before I arrived. I sighed, gripping my hilt as I left her shop, and made myself talk to more people after that, curious. It'd be a switch to immediate Forsworn talk after the casualties. I just wanted to know where these dudes were if they ever decided to attack me, here. But obviously, no one seemed to know where the Forsworn were at at a certain time, except of their Fort Kolskeggr mine, where one was sure to be able to see at least one Forsworn there at a given moment. I would storm that bandit camp right now if I had a follower and hadn't been in this ridiculous stranded situation. 

One highlight of my visit that shaped it maybe even more than the waterfalls that existed here, though, was the girl whose parents didn't see me playing tag with their daughter, happily. It was a simple, and not-pedo, enough game, even in my healing condition. Tag: I played it once, so that's why this time I decided to play hide and seek, with a kid. I've also plaid "I'm a monster" where I scare another kid from bullying another. Man, I'm great with kids, but I'm kinda a cheater: this girl in Markath said, 1, 2, 3, go, and ran, and I spied her as she did. I loved the way her little feet never ran too far too fast away from mine.

Which of course was without her knowing. I held my stitched torso tightly, and tried to play longer with her. To make it easier on myself, I watched her the whole time, while she literally blinded herself to my hiding. But I knew if I didn't see her hide I would never find her, haha.

So that's how I played. She let me get a running start right now, while her eyes were closed. I hid behind some wall, but she found me. I was that visible to her. So that's how I never managed to pickpocket a stranger or hide from bandits. That was embarrassing.

And the clunky armor didn't help hide my presence visibly or audibly now that I paid attention to myself every time I hid from her. What I missed, though, I made up for in my strength, and the numbers of beings I was able to kill single-handedly. I coughed, trying to stunt my tears that kept peering through the cracks of my eyes while the cemented wall protected me from her view. This happened whenever I thought of past battles, this tearing affect. But it was okay. Here, I was housecarl/follower-less. I could relax: I had no one to protect and no one to protect me, and the warrior in me blazed through my features while I was playing a tag game, making me smile wide now that I was alone.

The girl's fragile figure passed by me like a ghost. I barely noticed her as I whispered a small thanks, now that I was tired of our play. She said, Thank you for playing with me! I then continued what I was doing: figuring out where in the world I could get information at.

I knew this was a water-filled land, now. With many different people of different races. Some people were enslaved silver, I believe, miners. Others were hardworking salesmen and women. I noticed that a mahogany couple were selling jewelry, and a good looking set. Their daughter, the one I played tag with, wanted to be like them. Other people sold meat, and others fruits, kind of like in a regular marketplace. So this was a normal place. But the mountains surrounding it made it look heavenly.

Some rude mister bumped into me, but this wasn't the time for such ignorance, so I turned around and balled up my fist around my shield handle. He gave a jerky smirk and I did want to bash his face in with what I had in my hand, but I had to hear his comment for giving me such a look.

"Hm?" I addressed him. 

"You lookin' for a way to get gold?"

"Wh - you have a...?" I couldn't finish my sentence. The guy looked like a hagraven. Tattered clothing didn't make up for his rather threatening gaze that was smacked onto his ugly head, a dirty, wrinkly, rude one, to add. I could go on and on insulting him, but aside from his grimmace, he said "gold". And I wanted a few more septims in my pocket. I was just on 3,000.

"There's gold here in Markath. Aye," I nodded to let him continue this, "a whole heap of it. You see that Temple? Way up there." He nodded in an obscure upwards direction - was he talking about the temple of Dibella? Danggit. It took me forever to re-find the place and tidy it. They were having some ceremony and I didn't want to go back up there and bother them any more. "All them women, keeping to themselves. Won't let poor Degaine in, no. Not even for a look. But they've got a treasure in there," I laughed at him until I heard that end part. Of course they wouldn't let an old filthy geezer up there into their female temple - what was this guy, some pervert? Well, people needed their blessings, so it made sense...and why not gawk at the naked statues, hm? But they have a treasure? Man, why didn't I see it? At least, to gaze at it...anything rare was special to me to see at least once in my life, as a someone that hoarded way too much to even take with her, sometimes.

"What kind of treasure?" I asked, leaning in closer to him, seeming as this was some delicate information.

"Gold statue, size of a child. Who knows what they use it for, but I know what I'll use it for," he started to whisper. I then began to shake with a very visible laughter. He, the scrawny man that I could probably punch into pitch darkness wanted to go get the statue - wait, then he wouldn't be talking to me. Obviously it looks like I've done some adventuring and busting through peoples' defenses (and heads). And he was luring me as bait with some kind of reward to do his deed. Charred skeevers, why did I get into these situations so easily? Maybe I needed to cut down on the ancient armor set-wearing and put on a dress someday. Wait...I glanced quickly down at myself. I was wearing a dress today. Crap.

"So you want me to go up there and steal a statue?" I said, disbelief clogging my voice.

"Well let's not put it like that. Wouldn't want the guards catching wind of us, eh?" he continued to whisper now that this was delicate information he was speaking. "Nah, just creep in and have a go at taking it out. I'll be here, and pay you half of what my man promised for it. You'll be helping out an old beggar, and the Divines smile on that sort of thing."

"Sorry," I put my hand on my hip, "but I'm not the girl you think I am. And you were entirely rude to me, today."

"How, lass?"

"I remember your voice while I was walking through in here when I first arrived to Markath. You said, 'Alms. I said "alms" you backbiter.' And suggested I give you some gold.

He bit his lip. "Ah, I wasn't talking to you," he mumbled. "I have more people to worry about biting my back than you. You are actually one of the good ones."

"Humph," I said, dragging my axe out of its custom hilt and then lugging it in one hand while I continued through the marketplace just in case some senseless person wanted to try something dirty, now that I was getting these random encounters that could be a Forsworn attack, mind anyone that thought otherwise or didn't notice such a threat that had now entered the city, a place they hadn't been according to citizens.

I walked across the cobblestones, and didn't find what I was looking for, yet. Some hooded figure, along my way of searching about for the staff and Sam, asked if I'd seen anyone go in and out of a building. I looked at his, I noticed from the countenance's, appearance before answering. He looked like a mage, himself, but I only said, instead of criticizing him, "No. I don't even live here."

"Hm. Fine."

"Why...you want to know, I mean?"

"Because this building has been used for Daedra worship. I am Vigilant Tyranus and it is my job to make sure such worship isn't going on. It's outlawed here, as everywhere else that has sense to outlaw it, of course, you see..."

"Sure. I'm honest when I say I have no idea about that darn abandoned building, however. Good luck on your racist - I mean important - search."

"Ugh...ignorant outsiders."

"Hey, at least I answered your question." I didn't know much about the Daedra, honestly. Except that different races worshiped different things, like that old orc who worshiped his god, Malacath. His people commonly worshiped him, I learned later in some books that I was able to read while recovering. I'm always reading a book in my spare time, though I may not talk much about it.

But my later adventures throughout the day in Markath solidified my thinking that Daedra worship was a primarily racial thing. The Daedra were worshiped by Dunmer and a few other races. The Dunmer were High Elves, and they were also badly looked upon because they were thought to practice necrophilia and other dark arts. I hummed to myself as I read such facts from a book planted upon a pillar's base in the middle of a mine below Markath, once I got down there into the mine. Supposedly more things exist here besides just the (Cidhna) mine. There were Dwarven ruins that I cannot pronounce that were considered a museum - both the mine and the ruins being connected by Markath's own ruins, or what I call a cheap name for bad construction. There were ruins literally past a big arch that I wasn't allowed to enter through without the 'okay' of a mage that was over the museum, and apparently over its access through the Markath ruins arch.

He was notably interesting to me once I met him, though, because for once, in his likeness, mages' skills weren't being just used for battle - they were also being used to preserve centuries of important artifacts. I really admired him, especially since this Dwarven armor was the best set I've had so far, past my steel and fur ones, which half of them are sold, and since he had such an interest in Dwarven artifacts as well. I intend to keep at least a little bit of my past, in case I find myself operating better with that equipment later in the road, despite the niceness of this Dwarven armor, however.

Afterwards, I ended up in the ring of confusion again that I had upon first entering Markath 'from the temple'. This one man who told me his name was Yngvar the Singer's arms were folded and he reminded me of a mercenary with his offish attitude, while I was scuttling about trying to find my way, though, thankfully he wasn't staring at me. I kinda wanted to knock his grimace off his face as well - however there was a reason a bunch of these citizens were so mad. "Have anything to tell me about Markath?"

"If anything was obvious here it's that the Silver Bloods run everything." His eyes regarded me closely, and his guard lessened, even eye-wise alone, noticing I was a senseless newbie to this place.

"They have anything to do with that Forsworn attack I just witnessed in here?"

"Ugh, another one? They've been bullying us like clockwork. Anyone you talk to, their loved ones died or their shipments were delayed by the Forsworn. I wish this mess would stop. You'd think the guards in this city would have it all under control. Our money here is endless. We could afford better defense and policing. But the Silver Bloods don't care about any of that. Makes me wonder if they have some sort of truce with each other or something. 'Hey, let's both put my city people into misery. Give them something to work for.' Blood and silver, woman, this city runs on blood and silver." He gave me the flick of his hand, a.k.a. the leave gesture. I did. I didn't want to work him up any more.

So when I saw the Silver Blood Inn, I approached it with skepticism. I listened to one man (noticeably Silver-blood) near its entrance about the glory the Silverbloods had and the importance of their name. And the pact between the bloods and the guards. It all stank of corruption to me, his stories, but I just went in, anyway. The Inn had fewer secrets than what I just heard from these two strangers, combined. There were (orc) people here, though, I noticed with previous info on daedra worship in mind. Well, I was being quite racist profiling them as Malacath bootlickers in my mind, but you never know what someone is besides the stereotype.

Besides, it wasn't so bad worshiping the supernatural being that ended your life when it was it's time, I guessed.

This one man was a mercenary in the Inn, however. My type of man to chat with, a manly man. And that's all I'd be doing until I actually understood who was Sam and why he'd like this corrupt place so much. Or me enough to bring me here.