Backstory: Kor, the Beginning Part III

• Posted by Doug S November 10, 2011 - 976 views

  The lumber camps gave me my skills, a bloody night raid set me on my path, a messenger gave me a reason, and the Divines gave me means.

   

  I am Kor the Nightbringer, and this is my story...

   

  Exhaustion overtook me as I sunk to the snowy ground following the fight with a young mountain lion. I had no choice. I had to move on. Making the decision just before nightfall to travel through the night and not stop to camp was looking like a deadly choice. My journey could have – should have ended there.

   

  Staggering up the increasing slop towards the high reaches of the Jerall Mountain range, the road ahead appeared more dark and menacing than I remembered from only moments ago. The crunching of new fallen snow was my only companion. The path ahead seemed grim.

   

  Sleep was about to overtake me, and in this place at this time, it would mean a permanent slumber if I stopped to rest. I snapped an overhead branch from a dead evergreen. My difficult time in the lumber camps taught me many hard lessons, including a few lesser spells. A Breton named Veric, who appeared but a short time in the camp to sell his wares, took some time with me and taught me three beginner spells.

   

  Veric laughed at me time and again claiming I had no affinity for magic, but I learned how to create fire nonetheless. Not a great fireball capable of destroying my enemies, just a small flame that, when applied to a dead piece of wood, produced a comfort to me in this trying time.

   

  My makeshift torch provided some emotional and physical comfort, but also gave me some light. With the addition of the starlight overhead, I could see the snow covered trail more clearly. I felt some renewed strength and trudged onward and upward.

   

  Someways upon the path, I spotted what appeared to be an unnatural light. Cautiously, I crept closer to see if such a light was an ill omen or a signal of good. In fact, this light was a campfire, large and hot, which was mighty tempting in my weakened state. Stumbling into an ogre or goblin camp, or even that of bandits could prove a fatal mistake. But I was resigned to a slower death if I remained on the frigid path ahead with no rest or food.

   

  With ax in one hand and torch in the other, I approached warily and cautiously. A single simple tent and a standard iron cooking set adorned the encampment. Unless the situation proved an ambush, whomever owned this would surely find my encroachment a surprise. And he, too, would be cautious and anxious about the stranger.

   

  A stranger he was. A calm old man, wrapped in a cloak and huddled near the fire, he made no sudden moves as I came closer. I made sure he could see me as not to surprise him. Surely, any fellow sleeping alone in the woods on the edge of Cyrodiil must be able to defend himself. If I appeared threatening, I could find myself a charred body scarring the white hills of the mountain in an instant.

   

  “Come, come closer Nightbringer!” he called, motioning me with a withered hand. His voice alarmed me... and comforted me at the same time. “I was expecting you. You are late young man.”

   

  At this, I was sure the man was crazy. He spoke to me as though he knew me which was impossible. “I don't understand,” I stammered in response. “Of course you don't,” he replied smiling. “For only at the end will you know who you are.”

   

  At this, I set on an opposite log and warmed myself. I ignored the man's ramblings. As long as he did not provoke me, I felt I could at least take advantage of his camp's assets. I had no inclination to rob him even if I could, but I truly hoped he would offer a bite to ease my hunger.

   

  “I know what it is you seek.” Of course you do, I thought sarcastically. The old man reached for the fire and plucked a leg of roasted chicken. He tossed it to me. I thanked him. “But food is not the desire of your heart,” he said with a gleam in his eye.

   

  The fire grew suddenly, causing me to retract quickly for fear it would set my clothes on fire. Covering my face from the blaze, I had to look away as the fire grew larger and for no apparent reason. But just as quickly as it grew, the fire receded to the small campfire it was before. And even stranger, the old cloaked man was gone, leaving me with an empty poor man's camp as refuge for the night.