Dear Ariena,
I imagine you have been looking for this missive for some time. I know I said I would write and I intend, if the Divines allow, to send you many more similar letters. My apologies as I encountered what you might call a delay in my travel to Windhelm. Let me begin by saying I am grateful beyond measure to be scribing these words. When one has had such a close call to damnation and death it causes you to forever to re-look at your present and at your future. It forces you to be thankful for any goodness that comes your way. How it came to pass that I was not some necromancer's experiment or dead in an unmarked grave is only through quick thinking and the ultimate grace of the Divines. But, I get ahead of myself.
Our walk towards Riften had been uneventful. We were all looking forward to the Inn; warm food, a bed and fresh ale from the Black-Briar Meadery. The weather had been excellent and we were in good but quiet spirits. I was excited to see Riften.
The bandits had been in hiding, possibly stalking us for some time and were experienced. They knew to take out Hurvan, the Nord sell-sword, first and to show no mercy. The arrows came from nowhere, first one and then two more. He fell to the side of the road before he was even able to draw his battle-axe. I reached for my own war axe on my belt but a bandit rushed at me from the bushes to my left. I felt a hard impact to the side of my head and everything spun. I remembered crashing into the dirt of the road. As I tried to get up I was kicked back down and I lost consciousness.
When I awoke, I was bound. Next to me, a fellow traveler, a dunmer stonecarver, was being lifted to his feet. In the road lay the bodies of the other two travellers. I watched as they looted their bodies and then we were hurriedly rushed off the road, threatened with our lives if we resisted. And so began my journey into Skyrim.
The bandits kept us alive and moved us northwards along narrow unused trails. Once at their camp it was explained we would be sold as slaves or simply killed if we became too burdensome. They cared little what that might mean to us and hinted at necromantic customers who would often buy slaves from them as experiments. Once they learned I had the knowledge of alchemy I become more valuable to them. We travelled often, moving from hidden camp to hidden camp. I lost track of the brutal days.
One the day the stone carver disappeared, to be sold I was told, and I realized I had to find a way out. I would rather die fighting or running toward freedom than to be sold like cattle! A few hours later, closer to nightfall than I would have preferred and with the bandit camp down two members an opportunity presented itself.
My captors had become comfortable with me, freeing me from my manacles to work on a very basic healing potion for them from ingredients I had told them to salvage. When they were not near me, I took a deep breath and threw a stone near an outcropping of rock on the edge of camp. It caused a clatter of noise and the bandits immediately took notice. Two stood up to investigate. The third looked at me and stayed close, hand on his blade. As soon as the two others were well away I tossed the steaming hot pot of mixture at the third one near me and turned to run for my life!
My only hope was to outdistance the bandits and to throw myself on the mercy on Skyrim itself. I did not expect to live through the day. I could hear the yells and cries behind me and then pursuit. My feet, clad only in rags, scrambled over rough and sharp rocks. As I ran around trees, branches scratched my arms and face.
I broke around a corner, continuing downhill and could not believe what I saw next. A pair of khajiit in travelling clothes inspecting something slightly off road. My spirit flew and I increased my speed. I gave a cry for help. Hearing my approach and that of the bandits, they looked up. The female khajiit ran towards me while the other drew a blade. A third khajiit, in steel armor, appeared from the road and drew his own blade. The female met me halfway, hissed at our attackers and then pulled my arm as she ran me back towards her companions.
As we ran downhill the other two male khajiit met us halfway and took up defensive positions as we ran past. Once at the road, we stopped and I looked back up the path. Two bandits were stopped, sizing up the situation. It was a tense moment but, judging against fighting the two armed and ready Khajiit, they turned away.
Relief and exhaustion hit me at once and I fell to one knee. Never before have I been hit with such a mixture. In a moment, the three khajiit surrounded me and pulled me up again. "Come," one said, "it is not safe. We will move on and then you may rest."
I was saved. I had thrown myself at the mercy of Skyrim and it had granted me life.
I see I have used much ink and so I will leave you with this for now. Know that I am well, warm and safe and in Windhelm. I will write again tomorrow so you may know the full ending of the tale.
Sincerely,
~Kallius~
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