The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

[Quindiana Jones]

Almost every companion is a dick. When you ask them to hold your stuff, they're all "the smurf should I hold this for?". Yeah? Well smurf you guys, there's a new cat in town, and his name is Khajiit. My Khajiit friend never complained. "I will shoulder some of your burden" he'd say, happily. All I had to do was get him his Moon Amulet, et voila, we're best buds. Oh, we went everywhere, that Khajiit of some name and I. However, tragedy struck as we fought against a teleporting Gaulderson! I was waiting back, firing arrows and magic, while my best buddy distracted them with the old "sword to the face" trick; "Khajiit, you magnificent bastard!" I cried, as Dashwoodian as I could manage. The Gaulderson spectre is on the ground, weakened. It looks at me: time freezes, my hand blazes. I loose the Firebolt straight at him. An explosion blinds me!

When my eyes finally refocus, I see a horrible purple and black shadow slowing fading and reappearing threefold all over the dungeon. I don't understand! I saw the explosion connect! I look around to try to figure out what happened, and it is then that I discover the horror that I have unwittingly committed. My Khajiit, bloodied and broken, his warriors face locked in rage. I look away quickly, vanquish that foe that vanquished my friend, loot everything and flee, my thoughts focused on one haunting question...

Was he angry at me, or at the spirit that manipulated us? I will never find out. I will never be able to apologise.

I spend the next few days tracking his old crew: the merchants he was once guarding from dragons. I find them outside Dawnstar. They look at me as if to say "we understand". I speak to them, try to bring up the topic and beg for forgiveness, but they are obviously shocked as they simply repeat the same sentence over and over. Where words cannot communicate, actions must suffice. I take the Moon Amulet, my old friend's most treasured possession, his last memento of his former home, from my pocket and stare at it as if trying to will him back into existence through the amulet's sapphire eye. Hoping that it will one day find his mother, I hand it to the merchant he once protected.

She will not find it till the morning. But I hope that when she sees it, in as pristine condition as the day it was made, she will know that there are some in these barren lands who do not loathe or stigmatise the Khajiiti, that not all High Elves are oppressive wankers. She will know that her old friend died doing what he lov- oh smurf! She caught me pickpocketing! Fortunately, her ex-guard is an ex-Khajiit, and there is nobody around to witness my almighty nighttime smiting.

Rest in peace, old friends. You are together now. And I have a nifty little amulet!