Oh, what a wonderful follower he was. Arrogant--yes. Annoying--yes. Often complaining he could only carry so much--yes. Speaking in third person in some sort of strange, lispy, Yoda-speak, yes. But, as a follower, he was beyond compare.

He didn't stand in my way in every doorway like Lydia, he didn't get fried on one of my first quests like that scary lady I had fisticuffs with in the Whiterun pub. When I gave him staffs to use, he used them, and didn't whine or complain--just kicked arse. (Except for that one time when one of his summoned Dremora attacked me, but I'll let that one go.)

We traveled through the plains, scaled mountains (even if it took him four hours to find his way up), he swam with me through the rivers and lakes, once I gave him a waterbreathing helmet. He was with me on every quest...until one fateful eve.

When the dumb Wolfqueen Awakened, and I went to exact revenge upon Potema, my furry friend was right there behind me, the whole way. He slaughtered the unruly as we made way to our goal, and was protected against every elemental force I could think of. Beefed up with improved armor sporting ridiculous resistance to frost, flames, et al, with crazy health, potions, and every fail safe I could think of, he sliced through the enemies like so much mushy butter. I was positive my feline companion was that much closer to knowing his goal of being wizard extraordinaire.

Until we got to Potema's room, that is.

She laughed, as she spun about the ceiling, like some sort of Tesla experiment gone mad. I exclaimed to her, never minding my fine friend who was always two steps behind me, "You're dead! You're so dead! Get your ethereal countenance down here, I will rip your soul to pieces!" I unleashed my most brutal attacks, dodging her spindly electrified tentacles and Draugr slaves. I was doing spectacularly. J'zargo was too, I looked over to see him holding his own with the Draugr and doing his own fair meting of justice and carnage.

I focused on Potema, and destroyed her.

But then, everything was very quiet...

"Meow?" I queried...

"Meow?..."

The echoes of my quickly-dampening voice rang throughout the chamber. All I saw at my feet were dead Draugr, dumb eletric veins still lighting up here and there.

"Well, J'zargo must have left," I thought to myself. He probably ran away, that was it. So, I returned to the College of Winterhold, expecting to see my caped crusader pacing around impatiently, worried about what trouble I had gotten myself into, practicing destruction spells, or curled up with his tail around his nose, taking a cat nap.

No where to be found.

Now my stomach was crawling with sickness, like a pit full of Chorus and frost spiders.

I went back to Potema's dungeon of death, I ran back through...corridor after corridor of those slain who had been smited by J'zargo's mighty prowess. Once back in Potema's room, I set aloft a magelight, and peered to the ground. There, on the floor, in a crumpled heap was the remains of my friend.

I was in utter disbelief. How could this happen!!!??? "NooooooOOOO!" I wailed, disconsolate, raised my fist to the sky, and shouted, "Damn you, Potema, Wolf Queen! Damn youuuuuuuuuuuuu!"

I threw myself upon the floor next to my friend and wept bitterly. For several seconds.

Then, I realized I had to...bury my friend. I could not leave him there in that dungeon of death, suffer the shame of having let him rot where he fell without a proper Nord burial (I know he's a Khajit, but still, I don't know what they do with their dead, probably turn them into Moonsugar, but I don't know how to do that.)

Oh, J'zargo! My heart was heavy, as I pulled my friend by his furry back paw, dragging him up and out of the pit with his 240 pounds of armor. I made it to the stairs, to ascend, still grasping him by his hind quarter, when the steps themselves mocked me, refusing to let me drag my friend from this fiendish place.

I then, having no other choice, I stripped my friend of everything I--I mean, he--owned. I was now overburdened by 1,000 pounds of trinkets, enchanted metal, and Daedra ephemera. "Farewell, my friend," I bade, glancing backward, as I dragged my feet, heavily encumbered by sets upon sets of heavy armor toward the exit door. Outside of the sanctum on a ledge, I attempted to relieve myself of some weight. I threw out 120 potions of various invicibility (Alchemy at 100, thank you very much), and found I still moved at the rate of a pregnant snail, so I took my stupid potions back, mumbling curses under my breath.

I slowly descended the cliff face, sliding and hopping down (and saving every two seconds in case it was possible to die from carrying seven times my body weight).





Two days later, when I arrived in the nearest city, I found a horse, and rode my overencumbered buttocks all the way back to my nearest house.

I made it safe, home, even though a dragon tried to fry me on the way, at which point I prayed to Talos to guide me, because I couldn't run if my horse became barbecue.

Safe, home...but without J'zargo. Not even a proper burial. :-( What a travesty.

I still think of him, months later, in mourning...every Khajit I see seems to have his face. Every Adept reminds me of him dualcasting his mightiness.

There will never be another J'zargo, I refuse to take another follower in his place. I just wish I could have heard him say, "Goodbye, my friend."

Or, at least during the fight, over the sounds of moaning Draugr and cackling Potema, "Potema does fry J'zargo's tail! J'zargo need help now, you are useless Argonian trollop! I knew you never be as good wizard as J'zargo! Restoration! Restoration! J'zargo on 8 1/2 cat life currently, move controller quick! Must J'zargo teach you everything? This is what J'zargo get for letting you sit in front of Alchemy table for forty hours, heh? Healing Hands! Grrrrand Healing! J'zargo is fading! Do quick! Argh...argh...meeeoww." (Clunk, as he falls to the floor.)

If only I heard. :-(

RIP, J'zargo.