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Torkir had just finished burying his wife and children. Bandits attacked them earlier and Torkir was unable to prevent their deaths. "I will avenge your deaths" He whispered at the graves." He bent down and put some flowers onto the fresh earth mould. Tears were flowing down his cheeks. He knew where the bandits were located and tomorrow, he will show them what a nord with nothing to lose is capable. Torkir was a former Companion. The Companions, a guild of famed warriors in Skyrim and very selective. He had made a name for himself thanks to the guild. He retired 10 years ago to raise his family.

He opened the door to his ransacked house and entered it. The house looked like someone had let a rampaging mammoth in. Plates were smashed, pots thrown accross the floor and books had been thrown around. His pelt collection had been stolen as well as anything of value. He climbed the stairs to his bedroom that had been painted with the blood of his two sons and his daughter. Sorrow gripped him. "My sons and daughter, I'm sorry. I should have protected you. I wish i had been here when their attacked as i would have been able to save you" he cried aloud. Tears were still flowing down his cheeks as he entered the ransacked room. He sat in the chair that hadn't been destroyed by the bandits and put his head into his hands. For the next few hours, Torkir cried and eventually fell asleep.

The following day he woke up. Sorrow had been replaced with vengance. Tears no longer flowed down his cheeks. He snarled and procceed to the basement. His saferoom, which he had built to protect his family was the only room that hadn't been touched by the bandits due to it being very hard to spot. He put his hand on what seemed to be another part of the wall and pushed. The door opened and he entered the saferoom. The saferoom looked like another room in the house but was filled with supplies. He spotted his old Wolf Armour and ebony sword. Putting it on, he knew that a lot of people would die by his hand today. All of them would be bandits. He knew that the nearest cave was a few hours away so he packed some supplies and departed.

A few hours later, he approached the cave. Everyone knew it as Bloodcreak cavern and today, that name would describe the cave. The bandit that stood outside the cave saw him and told him to back off. The head went flying through the air. "One down, 30 to go" Torkir growled. He entered the cave and prepared for battle. "COME OUT AND FACE ME YOU F*CKING COWARDS" He yelled at the top of his voice after encountering a few bandits that he easily disposed off. The gang must have heard him as they all charged to where he was and surronded him. "YOU ARE ALL GOING TO F*CKING DIE YOU PIECES OF SH*T" He growled at them and procceeded to attack them. He parried the bandits strikes and killed them. He impaled the bandit that had tried to take him from behind with his sword and kicked the one in front before thrusting his sword straight into their head. "COME ON, YOU F*CKS!, IT'S NOT EASY TO KILL SOMEONE WHO CAN FIGHT BACK YOU B****DS" He yelled as he killed more bandits. The circle of bandits that he was surronded by slowly shrunk due to them attacking him a few at a time.

After half an hour, the bandits that had faced him were all dead. Torkir heard an earspliting roar coming from his left. He wasn't prepared for what was charging at him.

A Werewolf. It gathered speed as it got near to him. He waited for the beast to strike and managed to prevent it from leaping onto him. "So, you must be the leader of these milk drinkers" He growled whilst facing the beast. The Werewolf roared in response and swiped at him. He blocked the first strike but feel the claws scraping his face. He felt his blood dripping down the left side of his face. The beast leapt at him and managed to floor him to the ground, his sword had been knocked out of his grip and he was now trying to prevent the beast from killing him by punching it. The beast started to claw at him and he felt more blood being released from his body. He managed to get the beast off him and retrieved his sword. He knew that he would meet his end here but as long as he killed the last remaining bandit that had killed his family, he would go to Sovngarde a happy man. The Werewolf and Torkir looked at each other and walked around. "THIS IS FOR MY FAMILY YOU F*CKING PIECE OF FURRY SH*T!" He yelled and charged at the beast. The beast charged at him. He yelled as he ran at the wolf. Both landed a blow on each other. Torkir was thrown straight into the rocky walls of the cave. His sword left his grip. Letting out a loud groan as he landed against the hard rock, he struggled to get to his feet. He saw that his sword had managed to embed itself into the beast but it only wounded the beast, not kil it. He ran at the stunned beast and aimed to push the sword deeper into the beast. The wolf growled at him. Torkir managed to push his sword deeper into the beast and ignored the pain that it was inflicting on him. "THIS.....IS.....FOR.....MY....FAMILY!" He yelled as he thrust his sword into the beast's heart. The beast swiped at him one last time and managed to slit his throat. Both fell backwards towards the ground. The beast was dead and Torkir was quickly dying due to the blood pouring out of his throat. The cave became darker as seconds went by. "I'm coming!" He weakly yelled whislt clutching his throat. He perished 30 seconds after he had killed the beast.

Today I got to thinking about the unknown. The fact that every second there are an infinite amount of chances for anything to happen, explained or not. I started thinking about other universes, universes where the cup I'm sitting next to has the letter 'N' on the bottom of it, and another where it has an 'N' that is slightly moved over, unnoticeably but different. Anything you can think of there is a universe for. Everything you want is in a specific universe.

There is matter and then there is being. There can be being everywhere, anywhere, at any time. Anything could be true. Anything can be hidden. Anything can be shown.

I cannot describe this feeling, if you can even call it that, as it is truly the loss of feeling. I realize the truths - or more specifically, the lack of truths in our realm of existence. Of physical matter and logic. Physical matter and logic.

I get to thinking about how we think of the world, logically. People, ideas, events, everything. What is everything? Well, everything is nothing. But nothing is everything, correct?

I'm going on about nothing now - literally.

Maybe one day you'll find it, the apathy of nothingness.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

The two tall Lurkers were partially enveloped in a hazy murk that seemed to completely swallow their captive, who remained a stately step or two ahead of them, head bowed, hands clasped together as if in prayer. The captive showed no fear at all of her captors. As they walked together in silence, the trio appeared to be lead by the captive, rather than pushed ahead from behind by the Lurkers. She was here according to her own Machiavellian plans, which had included being captured by these brutes. She showed no fear because she knew they held no power over her.

"Night Mistress, how good to see you again", thundered a deep, gravelly voice that echoed inside one's head as much as it echoed inside the chamber the trio had just entered. "What brings you to my realm?"

Without lifting her cowled head toward the writhing mass of tentacles from which the voice had emanated, the captive replied in a still, solemn voice that was hardly perceptible despite the acoustics of the grand chamber. "Lord of Secrets, do you not already know my purpose here?" she chided. "Is your tentacled grasp on knowledge and fate slipping?"

"You always were shrouded in mystery and suspicion, my dear", replied Hermaeus Mora, thoughtfully. "You have a proposition for me, no doubt." With the flick of a slender protuberance, the Daedra dismissed his two minions, who slipped back into the acidic green-black waters on either side of the dais above which their master hovered.

When the waters had stilled again, Nocturnal lifted her face to her brother. "You never could resist meddling in the affairs of mortals. Indeed I do have a proposal that would benefit us both greatly."

The mass of green tentacles quivered and undulated excitedly. "What prank do you suggest we play on the souls of men and mer this time? It has been too long since I last enjoyed interfering in their petty plans and squabbles."

"Patience", the shrouded Daughter of Twilight whispered, knowing that it so irked the Prince of Fate to be told to wait. She was savouring the moment when her devious plan would finally be given words. Although it had been building inside her for some time, she did not want to just blurt it out. She enjoyed the thrill of the sense of occasion, allowing it to tingle its way up her spine.

"Does this have to do with your recent misfortune?" asked Herma Mora boldly, trading subtle insults freely with his sibling. "Do you come to me for aid in seeking your revenge?"

"As always, you are well informed, brother", she replied calmly, not giving away the hint of disdain she held towards a particular mortal in her service who had offended her recently. This negotiation must appear to be beneficial to both parties, otherwise Mora would reject her proposal outright. "It is, and it isn't. That a mere mortal could steal from a Daedra is of no great concern to me. I allowed it. The theft of my Cowl was part of a greater plan."

"Why then involve me? I have better things to do than finding your lost garments!" thundered the tentacled one.

She had to wait for the echoes to subside in the great chamber before she could reply. "Finding is not the problem, brother. My Cowl will return to me in due time. While it is in the hands of mortals, however, I suggest we have a little fun with it."

"I'm listening", replied Mora, curtly.

i love this dude