User blog:NosanctuaryonIG/Alexander Brendmane.

Alexander Brendmane.

Chapter 1. Birthday.

Alxander was born in the land of Tamriel, on a cold, dreary night. His mother would have been warm, had she remained within the MorningHill Stronghold, where she was likely empregnated by one of many Orcs. Instead, she nearly froze to death in the small hut of a Khajiit Caravan. The frost, however, wasn't what ultimately led to her demise. While it's true that she struggled to stay alive through the freezing woodlands, she wasted the last of her life's energy pushing out a tiny, lifeless baby.

Dying moments after childbirth, the mother's Khajiit caravan mates were ultimately tasked with choosing the boy's name. Yaarjò set his paw on the shoulder of his sister, Lo'kjir, and she turned to embrace him while holding the baby.

"I...I cannot bear to dig two graves today," she said, lip quivering and body shaking. She looked at Yaarjò's bright, sympathetic eyes. The rest of the caravan surrounded them, their heads facing downward. The remaining Khajiits had been patroling the woods for any beasts that may pose a threat to the pregnant Nord, now deceased.

"You won't have to," said the voice of an elderly Bosmer emerging from a tent. The same, frail voice spoke, "Hand me the child."

Brallion was a man of magick that spent the majority of his time praying to Arkay, the God of the infinite cycle of life and death. Over time Brallion revealed to the Khajiits that his family died in a fire that had consumed everything in it's pathway. It was only he whom narrowly escaped, whilst both his daughter and her husband perished. He wandered the forests for several fortnights using the healing majick he learned to heal his burns and keep him from dying of starvation. He was too old and feeble to even catch his own meals. When the Khajiit caravan came across the old man, Yaarjò (their leader) had pity on him. He offered to feed the Bosmer, in exchange for his expertise in healing the scrapes the Caravan Guards would receive from the frostbite spiders and other wildlife.

During their travels, Brallion took a loan against the money contained in the Caravan strongbox to purchase books teaching Arkays' arts. After pressuring him for answers, Yaarjò eventually got Brallion to reveal to him that he used these books to study and pray to Arkay, so that he may be sent to Sovangarde: the plane of reality were men and women of honor went when they departed the realm of Tamriel. There was no doubt in Brallion's mind that his family would reside there, after being unjustly burned to a crisp like a skeever hide, and he longed to join them.

As Brallion took hold of the child, his warm hand turned to ice.

"Arkay," he said, his voice, raspy, "my time has come. I pray to you so that you may take the last of my life force and place it unto this child. I pray not only you send me to Sovangarde once you have performed this glorious action, but that these words and this magick flowing through my veins is yours not mine."

Brallion held one hand over the face of the dead newborn, using the other to support its head. His fingers were splayed across the newborn's face with beams of tinted orange and yellow energy flowing from their tips. Brallion shouted out in pain and the light dimmed as he crumpled onto the child. Yaarjò, Lo'kjir, and the other Khajiits stood still. Brallion's robe was all that remained of him. Yaarjó bravely crept forward to lift the robe, only to find a thick, bright blue dust coating it. Yaarjò's recognized what this meant from his days as a mercenary. He suddenly noticed movement inside the robe. Pulling it completely aside, the robe revealed a small, pale infant.

Alxander opened his eyelids for the first time, revealing his deep brown eyes to find the khajiit looking down at him. Yaarjò retracted his claws and picked up the baby with his warm paws. As he looked down at the squirming, wailing baby with dark fuzz on its head, he smiled. (For the rest of the story, follow storyweaver13 on Wattpad.)