The Legacy of Do'Saah : "My Name Is Foot-Foot!"

It's late night, the moon is high, the stars are out. There's only a single business in the whole city that is open at this ungodly hour. They call it The Tapered Rose. It's a tavern of sorts, a bar with housing. Two people breathe in this building. The rooms are empty. The only lights, are the candles on the tables, and on the bar. The old man stands behind the counter, wiping down flasks and glasses. His hair is balding, his face dripping with age. But the other one, sits in the back of the room, a candle lighting up his features. His sharp teeth, his dark skin. He's far from a human, yet his voice sounds like a man. Upon nearing closer to him, you see his scales, the horns on his head, and the long snake-like tail. He smiles when you take a seat at his table. He's the only reason you woke up so early.

"I won't start over." he says. "It's been a while. So let's just pick up where we left off." he lifts his right arm to the table and sets down a large hammer. It looks like a sledgehammer put on a simple stick. But you know better. You know it's part of the story.

"So I awoke on the ship. I didn't remember who I was, what I was, or where I was. All I knew was that I was saved from something. A man with dark skin looked at me funny." he would lean back in his chair, a low bellow from his lungs. "He was in a cage. He told me I was freed, but not him. Then another man came down and told me to follow him up the stairs. I'd follow him up one flight of stairs, only to get to a second. There was a latched door on the ceiling. He told me to go first, and I did. And I pressed the door open." leaning forward, his hand would fall on his hammer, feeling the wood of the grip. "The light was bright. I thought I died. I thought I had gone to Heaven. Only after hearing the birds chirp, and feeling the wind on my scales did I remember, I was bound for hell.

"I later found the name of this place to be Marrowind. It was an odd name for a dark colored wasteland. I felt like I was at home, but part of me questioned it.

"I was met by a light skinned man who pushed scrolls and quills at me and asked for my information. He wanted my name, my birth sign, my race, my skills. It was all so odd. I sat down, and he looked at me questionably. But I didn't know a single answer.

"I could hear her though. In the back of my mind, I could hear her calling out to me. She called me names like stupid, ugly, and brother. I couldn't help but wonder who she was, and why she looked nothing like me. That's when I wrote a name. Yang. Because I remember her calling me, ". . . . a demon who is the absence of darkness." and that's what I chose my new name to be.

"I looked to my right, and saw a stack of books. "If you need help knowing what you astronomical sign is, those books will help." the man said. So I took them in my hands. I opened it, and by fate, The Shadow was the one I saw. Then another memory came.

"Child of the night, I'm afraid you must go." I remember the voice. A woman. She sounded so pure, so innocent. "Sithis calls for you. You belong there, not here. You are a Shadowscale." And then I wrote it in. I was born under The Shadow."

He would take the hammer, and place it before you, pointing the handle at himself. "After I left the office, I was told to take what I needed from the next room. Now, I'm sure you're thinking that's where I got this, but not quite. I found a letter opener and took it as my own. I took a map and a few rings I found on the table. The man told me it was fine, and all the goods were donated to help people like me. He gave me a bag to put my things in, and I left quietly. When I left his office I saw a large lighthouse, and instinct told me to run to is. I clutched onto the dull blade and opened the door. I saw a man pull a sword and point it at me. It took no more than a second for me to put that one object in his throat. Then I took his blade and made my way to the top. I found his friend and stabbed him too. I took everything they had, took the food and left. I went to the inn that was maybe a leap and bound away. I sold their belongings and bought this hammer. The same hammer I used to reforge the blade I stole." he laughed, setting back in his seat. "Then I remember walking out, afraid, scared. Everyone's eyes seemed to glow red. I ran from there. I ran with everything in my bag, and I found a small cave.

"It was lit by torch light, kinda like this tavern with candles. But instead, I saw the back of a woman. She held a dagger fresh with blood. I saw a tail, furred and spotted, like a brown cheetah. There was bodies before her, bleeding and some burned. And she turned slowly to face me, her eyes wet. And you know was she said to me?" he would lean upon the table, setting his head on his hands. "She spoke, her voice shaken. I could still taste the fear.

"Do'Saah. . ." she said to me, "I thought we lost you." then she dropped her weapon and ran at me, my sword in my hand. She wrapped her arms around me. I was confused, lost, unsure of the circumstance. But I knew that she did not mistake me for someone else. "Don't ever leave me again." she burrowed her head into my shirt. "I promise I'll be a better sister.""

The old man would appear behind you, setting a cup on the table. It was clear, the liquid visible. It was golden, with leaves set upon the top in many small bits. It was something you've seen only when listening to his stories.

"She explained everything to me. We took that cave as our own, and she explained the life I lived, and why we were in Marrowind.

"I was born from a swamp in the southeast of the continent. I called my home Shadowfen. I don't remember anything besides the rotting leaves and the smell of moss. I was hatched from an egg. I didn't know many of my kind. I remember voices when I hatched. I was one of three that survived. There was dozens of my eggkin that died. It was customary for all of us born under the sign of The Shadow to be offered to The Black Hand, or what is known now as the Dark Brotherhood.

"A strange masked man without a tail put the back of us in a cart. We were to travel far to a world no one had seen before. But it would seem that it was not my fate. In the middle of the night, I was stolen along with another of my eggkin. We were taken by dark skinned elves, same as the man who was in that boat. We were to become slaves. But even that road was short. That group of elves, the Dren family I believe, were raided in the middle of Cyrodill, the country the assassin was trying to get us to. And to make matters more confusing, again it was the dark skinned elves that stole us. But this time, they word clothing of sod and dust, paint upon their faces. They wanted to get us free. They called themselves Ashlanders.

"I know I told you before, but I'll go over again. The Ashlanders were a group of Dark Elves who were against the enslavement of my kind, the Argonian race. Their culture shared many ideals and views as ours, and their tribes existed almost beside our own. I did not know how to speak, or make words yet, but the other Argonian did. He told them we were supposed to be with the masked man. And they understood the problem. So instead of returning us to the Black Hand as our culture required, the entire tribe of Ashlanders took it upon themselves to hand deliver us to the Dark God himself. It was the second time I heard the name Sithis. I thought he was a god, and I wasn't far from the truth.

"It took a week for us to make it through Cyrodiil, but seeing as none in our party knew the land, we found ourselves in Arenthia, a city built in a forest. The country of Valenwood, home of the Wood Elves. Eventually, the tribe decided that their purpose was to train us until the Brotherhood arrived. I was told that some of the Bosmer, or wood elves had sent note to their superiors to come to Valenwood to claim us. It felt odd to me, to know so many people worked within this society, yet we were claimed from birth. As a child, I tried to grasp what made us special.

"Three more days passed. The Ashlanders taught us Alchemy as well as crafting armors from plants and hide. The Bosmer taught us archery, as well as hand to hand combat. It was only then I saw another masked man appear. His clothing red and black, the first time I saw one of them during the day. He looked at both me and the other Argonian boy.

"Do you have names?" he asked us. I knew few words from the Ashlanders.

"No." I answered. It would have been normal to be named on our hatching day, but we were Shadowscales. We were only allowed to be named by Sithis or the Night Mother herself. T

"Silent-Moss" he says, "I heard her call to me in my sleep." The man would nod and motion for him to follow. He would stare coldly at me and walk away with the other boy. I took a step to follow them, and the man turned to face me. "It is not your time yet." he told me. "We will find you when it is your time.""

"I stood there and watched as they walked away. I rubbed my eyes to make sure it wasn't a dream, and when I opened them, they were gone. The Bosmer stood there, confused. The Ashlanders were stunned. No one knew what had happened. I was young, a child. An infant. And now I was abandoned. I could not go back home, for it was not our way. And the Black Hand told me it was not my time, least, that one man. The Bosmer told the Ashlanders to go back to Argonia and talk to my people. She wanted to know what to do for my sake, as well as her own curiosity.

"Worry not, Scaled-one." she told me, "I will teach you our ways, so when Sithis is ready for you, you will be ready for him." She was kind. And she was like my mother. "But we have done too much here. We must go." she picked me up and carried me in her arms. We were on our way to Elswyr, the country of felines who were skilled in silver tongues and stealth.

"I don't remember much about my travels there, other than being left alone one night. I remember calling out to her, the elf with no name, and there was no answer. All I could see was the moons in the sky. But then I heard a voice. It was almost drenched in familiarity. It was younger than me, and it was a Khajiit, one of the cat-people. She came to me and sat beside me as I felt lost. She poked the side of my face with her claw. "Brother." was all she said to me.

"I learned her language. I lived with her. I begun to learn the names of the stars, the villagers. I taught her the things I learned. I showed her how to hold a sword. I showed her how to weave ropes and tie knots for various things. The Khajiits in turn taught me how to process skooma and the art of stealth. I didn't want to be Argonian. I wanted a family. I wanted to be a Khajiit. That was when they named me.

"Ja'saah," the elder called me, "Why are you here?" he asked, wondering why I was there. By then, I learned how to speak better. I was older.

"I am to become the night." I replied, "But my family gave me away, and others wanted me to be a slave." It felt so odd to tell the truth. But I knew I was not allowed to utter a word about the Black Hand in this country. Besides, I wanted to forget it all happened.

"Then you are one of us, Ja'saah." he said again. He made it to be my name.

"What does my name mean?" I asked him.

"Ja, you are child. Saah, for you have large feet!" And that was my name. Everyone made it so. "But Ja'Saah has family name, no?" he said, looking at me. But he knew. He nodded. I would remember my family eventually. Even if they gave me up, it was only right for the world to know where I came from." Sighing he shuffles in hands into his pockets. "That was how I lived. I lived among cats. I fought, I stole, I hunted. When I proved my worth, my sister gave me the title of Do, and I become Do'Saah. I was no longer Young-Foot. Now, they called me Strong-Foot. But in that moment of bliss, a scale among furreds, I had a nightmare that seemed real.

Imagine darkness, something darker than being in a cave at night, where the sky is clouded and a blindfold over your eyes. It seemed surreal, it seemed to move in around me, pushing me into nothing. I felt air from my lungs being drained and taken. Then I heard a voice, but it wasn't a voice. It was like a thousand whispers all speaking at once. They uttered the same thing over and over.

Shadowstep. Shadowstep. Shadowstep.

He had named me. I had forgotten him. But he did not forget me. Sithis gave me a name.

"I told my sister. I was only fair, as she knew that I came from Valenwood. She lingered over the name, and questioned it. "Shadowstep?" she asked, "So he named you Saah'Do Step?"

And that's was how it began. I was Do'Saah-Step, Argonian of Elswyr, Rejected Assassin of The Black Hand. "

Scoffing, he would reach down to his glass, lifting it to his mouth. He would sip the drink, the leaves floating on top, but not being consumed. They would press against his lips, but only the drink would pass.

"Next thing I remember is opening the door of our home and feeling a wave of heat on my face. Then I woke up on a boat, found myself in a new world, forgot who I was. And I guess you know where this goes." Laughing he would continue.

"My sister and I lived peacefully in our cave. We left sometimes. I was able to grow foods with nothing but the lights of crystals in the place of the sun. I captured animals and had our own livestock. We were the only beastkin in the entire country that we knew about. The one day, I woke up to find my sister gone. I felt darkness around me. I ran out of the cave to look for her. I remember being full of so much rage I killed everyone that couldn't give me an answer. I became a criminal. People hunted me, so I killed them too. I remember plunging my blade into millions of people, and reforging it with the same hammer on this table.

"Then darkness came over my mind. Then I woke up on the boat again. It was like it never happened. The same elf spoke to me. The same man asked me to fill out forms. But this time I knew the answers. He told me to take what I needed. I took only the map and the bag and left. I left without word. I did not go to the lighthouse. I went right to the cave. I found mercenaries all around, but my sister was gone. I went to the next city and stared into the faces that I had cut down just moments before. I begun to work, living in an inn, making just enough to survive. I had killed everyone, and now they all lived. And now that I remembered who I was, I couldn't find my sister. I tried forgetting who I was to try and bring her back, but I never forgot.

"In my room of the small in, there was an Argonian next door. She sang at night. I listened to her never night before I closed my eyes. The songs were often sad and solemn. She sang songs ans sometimes I quietly sang along.

She had a voice like an angel. She had a voice like my sister."

Taking another sip of his drink, you can feel the night become eternal. Time is lost, suspended in existence. It seems like both a second and a millennia has passed by. You grow weary, yet you stay for the tale. He continues.

"But like a dream, my torment was ended. I no longer lived to see the faces of the men, women and children I killed. Instead, I awoke to find myself barred up. I wondered if they found out, and I was finally being punished for my crimes. I prayed for the release of my life. I prayed my soul to be taken by the dark soul Sithis. . . but a different salvation came to me."

"You . . ." the voice of an older man interrupted my prayers for the end of my life. "I've seen you... let me see your face..." his voice was golden, his tone noble and rich with history. I felt like I knew the man. "you are the one from my dreams."

"I leaned in hear him better. The next moment I find myself escaping prison through a secret cavern. I looked at him and his garb, as well as the men who courted him. They seemed finely dressed and made of gold, something contrasting the cold obsidian earth I once lived on. I can't help but feel as if I was born again, my soul molding a new carcass. Only to follow a man who I was told to be the emperor.

"I didn't know why they locked him up, nor how I got into that cell. All I could remember was watching an assassin take the man's life, and him giving me an amulet to pass to another. For once, I felt like I had a purpose. For once, I had a goal. For once, I was going to save the world, not destroy it. I remember making my way through the prison sewers wearing the armor the former emperors guards. I was but a scavenger, and now I was the man employed by the dead. It seemed too much for me. But again, it didn't end.

"I made my way out of there killing rats and other beasts. I remember staring at the light at the end of the sewers. My life encased in darkness. I looked at the world through the sewer gates. And I heard the voices again, the same voice from my dreams.

Gates opened. Hellfire. Collect the scrolls.

"I touched the cold rusted metal of the sewers and I push it open. My life born again, but the taints of my past known to only two; Myself, and Sithis." Reaching down, his fingers would drip into his glass only to grasp the leaves set on top. They were now soggy, and he would eat them without stopping his story. Looking at your face, you can see into his eyes. Only now do you learn of the blood red color of his irises.

"In Valenwood, I was taught to follow the green pact. The other boy did not. They honored the god that lived in their forest by wasting nothing. They ate everything of their prey, and used the rest to arm themselves. I would whittle knives from bones and starve myself in preparation for rites. The other boy would learn how to mold steel and how to hide bodies. I can see how different we became. He was a closed fist, and I was an open palm. Maybe that's why The Night mother spoke to him first. She wanted a crude beast to dismember her targets, not someone taught to weave silver tongues. But in Elsweyr, I learned how to move without sound and with skooma, how to make potent toxins and hallucinogens. Maybe Sithis didn't need me yet, or maybe he needed me for something else. All of this went through my mind as I looked at the sun outside of that sewer. I knew where I was. I was back in Cyrodiil. And again, he spoke to me.

The Hist. Ancestry. Kvatch in ruins.

"I did not know this world, but Sithis showed me the way. I did not question the voices, I simply accepted them as him. From his words, I knew to expect some sky gates to open and rain fire. The first target would be Kvatch, whatever it was. And perhaps this Hist was my saving grace, or maybe that would show me the scrolls.

"It really was a blur. I was on so much adrenaline I begun to rush into things, following maps and eavesdropping on conversations for information. I gave the amulet to a monk and I ran to a burning city. With swords in hand I begun to slay demons. Daedra as they were called. I passed through a large portal that seemed to stand from volcanic rock. There was hellfire, as the dark lord mentioned. I was in fear of what was to come, but to have slain a whole country in such a short time, there was nothing to stand in my way.

"In that portal, I passed through a new plane of existence. I remember someone calling it the plane of oblivion. None followed me in, they stayed outside, fighting the few Daedra that made it past me. Inside of this firey hell, I found corpses burnt to a crisp, held in cages, personal prisons all over. There was puzzles with the tormented dead, and I made my way past the lava. Eventually I came to find a black black orb.

Take it.

"He spoke to me, and I obeyed without question. The world begun to shake. The walks begun to break. I ran for the exit. I would fall out, onto the cold stone ground. The portal behind me would close, the heat still searing my back. The demonic knights stood around, and I arose to slay them once more. I had saved a city, all because of a voice I heard in my head. The voice of the Dread Lord. Ruler of he Void. Sithis.

"But in the back of my mind, I wondered what became of the monk who I gave the jewel to. I would make my way back to save the amulet, but I came to find it stolen, and the monk still alive. I was somewhat disappointed, but still. They directed me to the Imperial City I believe. I think I was ambushed, or someone tried to kill them. Of course, I killed the assailant, but then I found a new thing. An Arena.

"They had a place to fight to the death. A champion was crowned. I don't remember how I found out, or why I went to join, but I did. And many lives were taken. I found disgusting enjoyment in it. In any case, I metaphorically told the monk and her friend to fuck off while I stab things. I remember the champions face when I was growing in the ranks. He asked of me to do a thing for him, to get a book I believe. When I returned with the book, the woman in charge of the fights told me to give a name the crowd would know me by. With blood lust in my soul, I told him Shadowstep, and the champion told me his truth. He wasn't of noble birth, but vampiric. It did hurt to see him full of sorrow, as it did to fight him. In the arena, he told me to take his life, and so I did. . . Then they came to me.

"We Know" were the words written. I saw the symbol, and I knew my own fate. After years, I had been chosen. My destiny was sealed long ago, and now they had reached to me.

Relight the fires. Age of Ash shall never begin.

"And he spoke to me, and I obeyed. Years ago I would have disregarded it all, but now he was my god. He was my savior. He was my conscience. And so I went on, working for the monk and her friend for the sake of the dead emperor. I took myself to the Arcane University and begun to create spells from nothing. I begun to train, hunting, finding portals left and right, closing them, taking these black orbs.

Touch the scrolls. Drop the sigils.

"He spoke after a dozen portals were closed, these eerie objects in my bag. Once again, I listened and I did. I lightly tapped the Scrolls of Flame in my bag for my spells, then I held the orb and dropped it. To my amazement, I would watch several sigils drop from my hand. And from that point, I learned the dark magic Sithis had bestowed upon me.

"Without repercussions, I began to experiment. I took my items, the one-of-kind jewels and gems and did the same. I reached out and lightly tapped my collection of scrolls, and I dropped the necklaces and rings on the floor. As they left my touch several were made from nothing. I had found the answer to my poverty. But with it confirmed, I thought of other things. I made my way to the closest store. I asked the man at the counter if I could trade my rings for another scroll. And my fun began.

"I smiled as I held my new spell of frostbite. I tapped my fire scrolls and dropped my Frostbite. Several scrolls hit the ground. I laughed, doing it over and over, until I had a hundred scrolls of fire, and a thousand of ice. I went to the next city and begun to sell jewelry and high end weapons and armor. I sold so many items and begun to experiment with alchemy with infinite ingredients. I had collected so much money, I had decided to settle down. I found myself buying a home at the low price of 5,000 gold in the city of Anvil.

"Life was grand and perfect. I now had a place to store my goods and other items. As I entered, I set my things around the dusted home. I begun to put my items in broken vases and stubborn bookshelves. I had grown from nothing, and for once, I had a roof over my head, and not a tree. It was my first home, and it was all mine."

He would begin to laugh, it would be amusing to hear his words. For once it was light, kind, sweet. But it wouldn't last for long. He never told a happy story.

"A spirit would wake me from my sleep. I found them trying to kill me, to end my life. But I was a hero, I had a duty to fulfill.

I took up my swords and swung at the creatures. They would fall and turn into dust, fog, or in some cases a glowing goo. I did not wish to disturb them, nor did I wish to embark on a journey that would distract me from my purpose. But I didn't want to end the lives of these lost spirits. If they wanted the home, it was theirs to keep. I would find myself checking on them, bringing magical artifacts for them to find some peace with, but nothing would be enough.

Eventually I would find myself lost, weak, and without a roof. But I had a king to honor. And in the back of my mind, I had a god to obey.

Islands. Giants. Demania.

Sithis spoke onto me, and his words I obeyed."

As he spoke, you could swear that you could see the glint of a single droplet rising from his eye. As you focus on it, it seemed to be sucked back into his iris only to disappear. It would be a bit of disappointment. You've never seen him cry before.

"I found a man with a boat. I told him to take me to the Island of Giants. I didn't know if their was such a place, but with nothing but words to light my path it was worth a shot.

"He would shiver at the thought, only to turn around and look at the sea. With a flash of a dozen bags of gold was he then persuaded. He told me that when he got there he would see me set foot on shore and he would leave shortly after. I didn't care. I was doing the work of my god.

I closed my eyes on that sailing, and when I opened them I found myself in an odd world of madness. . . But that place is something you wouldn't believe. that's a story for another time." He would reach up and wipe the tear. You aren't sure what to make of it.

And his story continued, but you knew enough to know it was never going to get better. His story could only get worse... much worse.

"If I learned anything, it's that if I wake up in chains or behind bars the world around me changes. Again, I found myself imprisoned. I was chained to other men. They were thieves, murderers. I tried to explain to the man that I didn't belong, and even he was unsure of why I was there. But still, they were leading me to my own execution. To them, I was just another nameless body bag." You heard his words, and you can't help but feel an odd similarity with another story, another person, another curse.

"When they took me off that dammed carriage they led us to the chopping block. They all stared at me, waiting to skin and maim my body. I knew the look. And in the flash of a dozen seconds my scales turned bright violet, and then a dark ebony black. It didn't stop them, only delayed them . . . delayed them long enough to catch the attention of a dragon . . . "

[Skyrim]
- Lol dragon
- Lol bears
- Lol dragons
- Lol stealing
- What you mean there was a plot?
- K, I'll go into the mountains
- FUCKIN PRIEST
- FUCKIN SHINY SHIT
- MAGIC SHIT
- Not Eye level, not here.
- Dungeon exploring
- Dweamer shit
- Ninja shit
- Werewolf shit. . . somewhere.
- Falmer
- one of us.

You want to leave, but the tale entices you. The night becomes eternal, and you begin to strive only on his words.

"Fate is a funny thing. But when your stories begin the same, you begin to question your own destiny. As it were, I awoke in a pit of hell. It was cold, yet familiar. It was like being in the gates of oblivion again, but this time without fire. Around me was this glass colored water that seemed to glow like stars in the sky. The stone was as black as shadow, and the demon knights, the daedra seemed to be stricken with an obsession of torture. But I knew the stories. I listened to the preaches. It was the doing by the darkest of the Daedric lords. It was done by Molag Baal."

OUTLINE:
- Another fuckin boat.
- Fuckin Cats and queens
- Nah, fuck this shit.
- OFF TO GRATROOT.
- Mai Peeps
- Homesick
- Fuckin snow and shit
- Lol Corruption
- Eat Support bitches.
- Fuckin Shadowfen
- Fuck your couch
- Back to pimpin.

A silence would fall. You were so invested in the tale, you didn't notice he had gotten several other cups of his drink. You still have little clue as to what he has been consuming, but whatever it was, it was something only he could ever drink.

"Then I awoke again, but this time, I was not in chains." The words sent a shiver down your back. Why did it make you feel that way? "Around me were bodies of deceased. I don't know how long they were there, but the stench of death filled the small stone room." He would stare off into the back. The room was empty, even the bartender had left.

"For one of the few times, I was filled with fear. All I had was to follow a light from down the halls of what seemed like a catacomb. So I did, I chased the light. But there was no torch. There was no fire, no bulb. No power. But there was a light that seemed to fill the walls, as if the stones gave light. But where I left, darkness fell."

A cold shiver could be felt going up your back. But why? "I left that tomb in a rush. I begun to run. I ran for what seemed like days. It was endless and I did not grow tired. When I did eventually stop to rest, I found myself at a lake. I looked into the water and saw myself. I was covered in blood. Hands seemed to drag through my clothing. I was scared. I unsheathed my blade, on it I found chips in the metal and blood mixed into it. The constancy was different throughout. . .  "

He would pause, giving a black stare at the table in front of you both. "I think I killed those people. Then in that moment I thought about every life I ended. The world seemed so dark and endless. I was in my own personal hell. I killed all of those people. I killed them all. So many worlds and so many lives I took. I was, no, I am a murderer." He was sure of it, you knew that. But what could you ever say to cheer him up? He had lived many lifetimes. . .  

"I continued to wander that desolate wasteland. It was torture to be alone with my thoughts. But one day, I heard someone crying. I was drawn to it. I was amused by it. yet, it pained me. So I went to it. I passed through the thickest of fog and shadows and found a boy with nothing but a notebook and the clothing on his back, curled into a ball, crying.

I wished to comfort him, but looking at him, I knew we were not from the same world. So I was born again, to rise as a killer who justifies himself with adventure. But I wasn't going to be evil. I had to help. So I sat there, quietly, watching the boy, waiting for him to notice me.

No more than a half hour passed and the boy silently sobbed. He slowly turned to look at me. His eyes. . . they were what had hurt me the most.

"Do'Saah Step, the last true Shadowscale." the boy would speak to me, as if he knew me. But who was he? I never seen him before. How could anyone know, here?

"How do you know me?" I would ask him.

"You are an Argonian raised in Elswyr. You were born to understand the birth eyes of that Khajiit. You are the only of your kind." But how? I never told anyone of my eyes. How did he know? Where did he come from? Why was my life known like this??

"HOW DO YOU KNOW ME?" I yelled at the boy. I couldn't hold myself.

"I made you." he would tell me, quietly, scare of what I was. He knew. but did he really? I opened my mouth to ask him the truth, but he answered first. He gave me no time to think, to process it all.

"Sithis is not real. Sithis is no being, we're in a new world. If Sithis was real, he, she, would have killed us both. But you? I made you. You were nothing but imaginary. I made you a hero." He... No. It's not true.

"If that's true. I'm no hero. You made me a killer." I said those words without thinking.

"Your sister's face changed with time. That wasn't your sister. My sister too, made someone up. It was out fantasy. You both were our escape. But soon she gave up. To you, I guess that meant she vanished forever." His words I could not understand. "When she gave up, I grew angry. I was not mad at her, I was mad at myself. I killed everything and everyone. If she wouldn't live this life, then nor would anyone else. So I killed everyone." The boy looked so sorrowful, yet his words were filled with hate.

"Is that why you made me kill all of those people?" I hated him. I hated him for being who he was. I could have killed him, but I would be just what they wanted me to be. He was my maker, he knew my life and secrets I long forgotten. He was the real thing. He was more real than Sithis could ever be.

"I made you kill all of those people because I'm weak. I made you kill because it was something I couldn't do myself. You ended all of those lives. . . because I could not end my own."

. . . And that's how I met my maker . . . My heroism was just his way of trying to pay me back for his own suffering. But I guess even creators aren't perfect. . ."