He stood tall in battle,
His swords raised high,
He spoke Deadric for those who died,
An Imperial as fierce and quick as his blade,
A teacher and warrior to the friends he made.
While the days seemed like weeks,
We did not know him for long,
Hear these words, for they are Sorex’s song
Time. It seemed to go too fast. At one moment everything is finally right with the world. In the next, the fragile thread that kept the balance between this right is torn to shreds. A story that spiraled downhill after one wrong turn.
Farth wasn't sure how long it had been since the group made up of Imperials, Nords, a Redguard, and a Dunmer first met. It might have been months - maybe years even. The bard that left Solitude would have kept track of the days. He would have taken note of all of the important events, the thoughts in his head, and even what he managed to eat after every exhausting night. Farth was no longer the same man as he once was. He was quick to protect and draw a blade if needed, a warrior by some standards. He still considered himself a bard - a master of speech and conversation - as he would always be. His time on the road had changed him, however. It had taught him the joys of friendship, to embrace the unknown, and the pain of loss.
When Sorex fell, it was a dark moment in his heart. He wished to not visit it in his thoughts. Sorex had come to be a brother to him, helping mold him into his new self. The Imperial was an important part of their group, even when it came down to his last moments. There was a terrible feeling in his mind whenever he thought of the man. It was worse than when he had left his family and the entire province of Hammerfell behind. It was his choice then, he mentally had been preparing for it. Sorex's death - or the death of any friend - was something that was impossible to prepare for. The bard-turned-warrior who once glowed with confidence was now somewhat uncertain.
After his death, they went through his things. It was not an act out of disrespect, but one of honor. He was a mysterious man, seeming to have few ties to other living beings. He had spoken about Morrowind, Cyrodiil, and master whom he trained under. Things like these were the pieces of his past that he told them of. Initially it was their intentions to return his belongings to any family or friends they could track down. Once they found his journals and opened it to the first page, they found a name and a city.
Garrus Palenix
Cheydinal
Relyn the Dark Elf, Elsa the Nord, and Farth had been the ones to make the journey to Cyrodiil to find Garrus and honor Sorex by delivering his journals - possibly his final memories included in their pages. If so, they would explain his story thus far. Farth was a storyteller himself, but Sorex's death was one story he did not wish to tell.
The group had travelled for many nights from Riften, heading south until they managed to reach Cheydinal. It was a tireless and hard journey, but it was for their friend. Farth did not deny that if he was in Sorex's place, he would wish for his sword to be delivered to his family in Dragonstar. So he continued without a second thought.
Cheydinhal was a beautiful city. At first impression, it may have been one of the most impressive sights he had ever seen. The city was obviously extremely old, but it was well constructed and kept neat by the Dunmer who had populated it for lifetimes. Farth's first suggestion was to check out the inn. His instincts as a bard were always going to be first, and an inn was home even in a completely different province.
Farth entered the Cheydinhal Bridge Inn, attempting to do his best to blend in. He didn't do quite a good job, but he couldn't help it if he was an unusually large, well armed Redguard who looked like he was there on a mission. Hell, if the Imperials in Solitude were alarmed and concerned about a Redguard's presence, he had to be quite a hazard coming to their home.
He walked up to the counter and took a seat, immediately ordering a pint of mead for himself. The inn was quite busy, definitely a good place to ask questions about the whereabouts of Sorex's friend. Or whoever Garrus was.
The huge Redguard suddenly reminded himself to keep a close eye on Elsa. She was now a seasoned traveller, but they were in a completely foreign place, and after departing from Freyr's group he had always felt a silent responsibility to keep an eye on her condition. Sorex would have a appreciated it.
Farth's eyes searched the room for the local bard. Did they not have bards here? His eyes stopped immediately after coming upon a dark figure in the corner of the room, wearing armor similar to Sorex. The Redguard's brows narrowed and he shook his head. If Sorex was from around here then a lot of men might have similar armor. Much like the iron armor found in Skyrim - everyone had it and loved its durability.
He watched as an Imperial soldier came up to the man. Farth crane his head and attempted to block out the other noise in the inn.
"Name. Age."
“Garrus Palenix. Aged 27 years - " That was all Farth needed to hear. After the soldier had finished his conversation he stood up and grabbed his mead in with a large hand, heading to the corner. His mind was only on the figure who spoke, completely forgotten about his companions.
He probably looked a bit strange walking through the inn with such purpose, weapons at his hip, clanking with each step. He probably also raised a few heads with the determination in his eyes. Farth may have even looked a bit scary. No, he was definitely not the same Redguard who had left Solitude.
The bard suddenly stopped at the stranger Garrus's, table. Looking the Imperial in the eye, he gave a wide smile - one of the few since Sorex's death - to show he had friendly intentions. Smiles were universal - a way to distinguish friend and foe. He was sure this was Sorex's Garrus - he looked the type and unless his ears were mistaken, he had the correct surname.
The large bard had to ask though,
"Do you know a man called Sorex?"