On the ride into Helgen I bond with a fellow prisoner. Lokir of Rorikstead, who tried to steal a horse but obviously didn’t make it too far. While he seemed to know why he was here, I am apparently struck with some brand of amnesia, wherein I don’t know who I am or what I look like.
Our cart finally came to a stop and we were let off. In a panic my dear friend of five minutes, Lokir of Rorikstead, decides that he had leg cramps and needed to jog it off.