"I was in the Windpeak Inn, trying to calm the locals and assure them that everything would be alright. I was lying through my teeth, but I saw no need to alarm the townsfolk. The people of Dawnstar had been suffering nightmares night after night for some time by then; I took it upon myself to help them with the nightmares, giving them Mara's blessings daily and comforting them when necessary.
"The nightmares did not scare me nearly as much as the knowledge that the people of Dawnstar were doomed if the evil dreams were not stopped soon. I knew exactly what had to be done, but I could not do it alone.
"Then, as if sent by Mara herself, in stomped an orc to the inn's taproom. His bulky armour, a mix of sturdy dwemer and orichalcum plates, glistened with melting snow. The weather is harsh and cold in Skyrim, but only Winterhold boasts more blizzards than Dawnstar and The Pale. The orc, Khargol gro-Mashnar, took an interest in the talk of nightmares in the town. Something about him convinced me to ask for his help; perhaps the Divines were watching that day.
"I took Khargol aside and explained that the citizens of Dawnstar were in dire peril. Vaermina, Weaver of the Panoply, daedric prince of dreams, nightmares, and omens, was at work in the nightmares visited upon the town. He agreed to help me immediately. The townsfolk were joyous to hear that we were on our way to the ruined tower, Nightcaller Temple, that overshadowed their homes.
"Fortunately, their hope was not in vain. Khargol and I left Dawnstar and clambered up the snow-piled slopes to the tower. Although we were out of the snow once we found our way inside, a chill remained and made us both shiver. Me especially. I dispelled the enchantment that disguised the way ahead and warned Khargol what we were likely to face.
"Nightcaller Temple was once home to a sect of daedra worshipers; at some point they were assaulted by a band of orcs who had been suffering from similar nightmares to the ones the townsfolk were now experiencing. To defend themselves, the cultists released a magical gas called the Miasma. The Miasma caused everyone in the temple to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep - it also preserved them and kept them in a sort of stasis. Both the cultists and the orcs were caught by the Miasma, and both sides were still inside the temple, sleeping in an empty oblivion. Entering the temple, however, would interrupt the Miasma's enchantment and begin waking everyone up. Khargol nodded slowly as I explained that we would likely have to fight our way through both parties to reach the source of the nightmares.
"As we stalked through the temple's inner chambers, I saw the source of the curse with my own eyes; although it was beyond our immediate reach. The Skull of Corruption stood, leaking its foul arcane energies like a corpse vomiting maggots. I knew that we had to destroy it.
"It was then that Khargol confronted me and asked how a priest of Mara knew so much about a daedric artifact. He had read books on such things, but my extensive knowledge would have been obvious even to a fool. I told him the truth.
"I told him that I was once a priest of Vaermina, a cultist within these very same walls. But that life was behind me - now my direction came from the Divine Mara, and I was more than eager to repent for the life I had lived before. For half a moment I thought that Khargol would turn that keen axe of his on me, but he simply grimaced and asked what we needed to do to destroy the Skull.
"We made our way into the temple's library. A number of the cultists and orc raiders began to stir; when they did not slay one-another, we put them down with magic and steel. Khargol found the tome that we needed to make the potion we required. Passing through the magical barrier that protected the skull was not possible on this plane of existence. We needed to travel through another plane, the plane of dreams. The potion of Dreamstride was what we needed, and the book made our quest possible.
"After come round from the potion's effects, Khargol was on the opposite side of the magical barrier and able to lower it so that we could both progress to the inner chamber where the Skull stood. We flew through the remaining sleepers as their trances ended until we stood face-to-face with my closest companions from my time as a cultist of Vaermina. I told them what I was there to do, gave them a choice to repent and redeem themselves. They wouldn't turn.
"We began to battle, magic and steel, fire and blood. I fell back as arcane lightning seared my skin and shattered my magical wards. I thought I would be immolated there and then when a blast of force blew past me and cast my once-comrade against the chamber's wall. When I turned I realised that the force had come from Khargol - but he was no mage, so what had he done? It would be later in our travels that I would see the power of his voice; his thu'um.
"I will not go into detail on the ritual required to banish the Skull of Corruption back to Oblivion. Afterwards, Khargol confessed that he heard Vaermina's voice inside his head urging him to strike my in the back and take the Skull for himself. I thank Mara every day that he did not heed the daedra's words.
"In conclusion, the people of Dawnstar had their first peaceful sleep for a long time and I gained a trustworthy companion with whom I would have many adventures."'
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