Alrightie, here we go with more of Ter'im's adventures. I'm basing this off of my own gameplays, and I'm trying fit in all the places as if I were playing, like this is where I would go in my own gameplay. Anyways, enjoy.

Ter'im got good time riding, stopping in Whiterun to inform Farkas and the other Companions that he was alive, trading off his bulky dwarven armor for some patched up ebony armor he'd looted and brought to Eorlund, and stocking up on plenty of health potions. He continued on, ignoring the occasionally bear and wolf pack that loved to jump out and spook his horse at the worst times.

A shudder racked up and down Ter'im's spine as he neared Reachcliff cave, and he twisted the ring he wore on his thumb and smiled darkly as he remembered the day he gained the ring. Markarth never seemed to change, the same thrown together market at the front gates, the Silverblood Inn with its drunkards, and the Understone Keep set back into the cliff face all remained unchanged from the day Ter'im left and vowed never to set foot in again.

Ter'im shielded his face against the harsh sun and hurried to the shadow the ledge leading to the keep provided. His ear flicked backwards as he passed a guard and heard the guard mutter about 'filthy half bloods in Skyrim'. Ter'im twitched his whiskers and made a note of the guard should his blade get thirsty.

Once inside the cool earthy palace, he veered sharply to the left, picking his way across rubble and mounds of dirt. He spotted the foul mannered man in seconds and picked his way over to the temperamental court wizard.

"What, what? I told you I'm not accepting any more guards, not after the other ones died anyway. What is it with people disrupting my very important research?! Now, if you'll excuse me I have important business to attend to."

Ter'im's hand was on his dagger when he took a deep breath and waited.

"Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I just keep running into problems with the dig site and my research. What can I help you with?"

"Calcelmo sent a letter to Ter'im wanting a Dwarven helmet. Ter'im has come to deliver the helmet and get back to his husband, yes."

The Altmer looked up in surprise.

"Ah, yes, I did. Do you still have it?"

Ter'im resisted the urge to face palm and pulled the helmet out of his pack.

"Yes, yes this is exactly what I need. Are you willing to sell it?"

"Of course, of course Ter'im is willing to sell, how about 250 gold?"

"I- uh, that's quite a bit I mean I could always-,"

Ter'im flashed the dagger under the weak light of the palace.

"Right, right, here's 250 gold. Pleasure doing business with you. While you're here, could you maybe take a look at the excavation site? Seems a frostbite spider named Nimhe has eaten the other researchers I had hired."

Ter'im held a hand out for the key. "Ter'im will take a look at it the next time he's in Markarth. Important things must be taken care of first."

Calcelmo grumbled a bit at that and this time, Ter'im completely unsheathed his dagger. He pressed the tip of it into Calcelmo's nose, ignoring the trickle of red that followed.

"Do not test me Altmer. Ter'im's blades will shine with your blood if you are foolish enough to test him. Now, Ter'im will make his way out of this skeever dump of a city and you will go back to your research, and maybe one of us will live to see another day."

Calcelmo nodded against the dagger and Ter'im spun on his heel and made his way back out of the city. He nearly strode right by the stables and left his horse, remembering the poor thing after he got halfway down the stone bridge. Ter'im trekked back with a huff, got on his horse this time and then continued on his journey. Surprisingly, the trip had not been very bad so far. He'd only been gone eight days out of the promised fourteen and felt he could make it back to Windhelm with a day or two to spare.

That was, until he met the Thalmor soldiers along the side of the road heading back into Morthal. Ter'im saw the haggard prisoner stumbling along the path and took two seconds to swing off the horse and unsheathe his warhammer. He flung some leather armor and a steel sword at the prisoner after he'd cut the bonds and took out the first guard before the elf knew what hit him. The prisoner shrugged into the armor and took after the second guard, leaving the magic wielder to Ter'im. The Thalmor caught Ter'im with a strong bolt of lightning, snatching his breath away in an instant and causing his heart to skip.

Ter'im gritted his teeth and dove to the side, just narrowly avoiding another lightning bolt. He swung up with his hammer to catch a thin eleven blade and knock it from its path of diving between his ribs. The Thalmor may have been cowardly dogs, but they did put stock in their training. The agent swung harder at Ter'im, the blow just barley being deflected at the last moment and glancing off of Ter'im's gauntlets.

Another blow and Ter'im felt the hammer leave his fingers. Ter'im cursed and scrambled after the blade, but stopping when he took another bolt in his side. Ter'im's left hand tingled and he'd lost the feeling in a couple of fingers. Ter'im danced away from the blade again and delved into his spells, hastily throwing up a ward, then sending a fireball that exploded in the elf's face.

While the agent recovered from the attack, Ter'im darted out and scooped up his hammer and swung it through the agent's skull, spattering brains and blood across the cobbled road. The body slumped to the ground with a slick noise and Ter'im wrenched his hammer from what was left of the elf's head. Ter'im then looked up, suddenly aware of the lack of noise and found that the prisoner had managed to survive. The prisoner stepped forward and grasped Ter'im's hand in his.

"Thank you so much, brother. Perhaps we'll meet in Sovngarde someday?"

Ter'im twitched his whiskers amused. "Perhaps we will. Be careful on the roads, stranger. Ter'im does not want to find you dead from a bandit attack. You wouldn't have happened to see a horse, would you?"

The prisoner shook his head, "It spooked and ran when the lightning started."

Ter'im nodded and pulled off his mask to scratch a hand over his face. He still couldn't feel his left hand and he was shaking all over.

"Damn storm mages." He muttered under his breath before bidding the prisoner goodbye and limping his way back to Morthal.