Bah, too late now. Let's make this the TWHLder Scrolls Story Thread, rather than two separate ones.
Part 2Morning has arisen, and the sun can almost be seen through the haze of fog and snow. The temperature has risen only slightly since last night, but I suppose it's good enough and head out on the mighty road to see where it takes me. It's hard to check my map through all of the raging winds and unbelievable weather, so I head in a direction I hope is correct.
I find a guard about half a mile away from Winterhold, and he seems pretty lost from home, the poor thing. Either I'm the greatest magical genius who ever lived, or this guard was too stupid to follow the linear road back home. I had to point him in the right direction, only to watch him walk the opposite direction, and then fall off a hillside. I run down to help the guy and I turns out he's blind. Well, I feel like an asshole. Especially since I left him lying there in the hillside. It's not like it's my problem or anything, I've got shit to do.
Karma really has bitten me in the ass. The road sort of disappeared, and started to drift into bandit territory, so I figured I'd take a little detour up the rocky hillsides to avoid them. But now, I can't seem to find the road, and my vision has gone blurry. My skin's gone red and numb, and I stumble more and more as the snow gets thicker and thicker.
For Talos' sake, where the hell am I . . .
I guess I'll just turn around and, oh . . .
Woah - woahp! Ah, shit, shit, shit! Agh! Oogh! Eegh! Ah, oh . . . I think I'm sa-- oh augh, ook, ow ow ow ow ow ow! Agh, shit!
So here I lay, motionless for many minutes, in a pile of snow. I can't even feel my limbs anymore, nor do I feel like I can control them. Besides, I just need a rest for a minute. I just need a drink of . . . and I'm out of potions. Somehow, I manage to cast myself a fireball for warmth, and wander my way out of the tundra towards the nearest settlement.
I find myself at the port of Windhelm. I don't remember the place very well, but as soon as I climb onto the port, one of the guards dashes over to me and puts himself in an authoritative stance.
"Don't think I don't know you!" he shouts at me. "You're a wanted criminal, and it's time that you paid for your actions!"
"You really have a bounty on me?" I sigh, dusting the snow off my tattered robes of alteration and finally gaining enough feeling to notice that half of the items in my knapsack have either shattered or fallen out. "How much?"
"6,000 septims," he tells me.
Now . . . now I think I remember. The end of the first semester at the College of Winterhold--about four years ago--some of my friends decided to come down to Winterhold to get really drunk. I don't know what was in my drink, but the last think I remember was I suddenly got a lot hairier . . . and bigger . . . and . . .
Shit. I've gotta get out of this prison.