An illustrated Skyrim story beyond the fall of the Dark Brotherhood~
After a surreal event, Cicero is inexplicably thrown back into a clear state of mind and his memories from his life prior to his madness return. We begin to learn who he really is...
Urf sighed as he dragged the tip of the Ebony Blade through the dirt at his feet drawing a sad face. He had been sitting on the front porch of Breezehome for five hours and was growing increasingly bored as the night dragged on. Jade had requested that he stand watch for 'any suspicious activity'. Apparently, she had a break-in the other night and was feeling vulnerable. It was Urf's duty as a newly appointed Whiterun guard to be of assistance.
After taking that arrow in the knee a few months before, Urf could finally walk again without pain but would never be able to return to adventuring. What a random act of senseless violence. He never found the culprit who shot him, but the whole thing seemed to be what started the riot and widespread panic at the South Wind's Prayer event.
"You look sad, friend," a voice purred from nearby.
He lifted his head to see a Khajiit standing only a few feet away.
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Surprised he'd not heard the soft-footed stranger approach, Urf scrambled to get his helmet on, "Halt!" he barked as he struggled to get to his feet, "No Khajiit within the city limits!"
"Oh, but Tripp is merely concerned for the sad guard and would like to offer a drink!"
"Begone, tresspasser! You know the rules!"
"This one does not know any rules against sharing a cold beverage and a warm heart under the stars. The pride of the former adventurer is broken, yes? Perhaps Tripp can help."
"What would a cat know about a man's problems?" Urf grunted and pointed the Ebony Blade at him. Tripp took a small step back while staring curiously at the weapon. He recognized it from the books that he had read.
"The drink of kings does not discriminate," he said puckering his whiskers a bit.
"Drink of kings?" Urf lowered his blade, "What are you on about?"
"Ah, you have not heard? It has the power to cure all that ails and bring out one's deepest potential."
"I'm listening..."
"Tripp only shares his private stash with those who have the most damaged of hearts. What is this guard's deepest passion?"
Urf blinked a few times, "I don't like riddles, cat. Your backwater booze does not intrigue me. Now exit the city limits before I have you arrested for trespassing!"
"Fair enough, my melancholy acquaintance. But if this humble Khajiit may insist..." Tripp took a step forward while reaching into the pocket of his robe. Urf lifted the blade again slightly and watched as he pulled out a small blue flask that resembled a skooma bottle and set it on the ground.
"Is that contraband?" Urf gasped in shock.
"It's merely an offering. This one sees fire in your heart. This is a gift. May you find your adventurous spirit once again..." Tripp bowed deeply and turned to make his way toward the front gates. The guards stationed there seemed surprised that he had somehow slipped through undetected but allowed him to exit without fuss.
