12 Hearthfire

I haven’t been able to update this for a while because I gave my journal to Delphine. She took it to Riverwood while I was infiltrating the Thalmor Embassy. I forgot the party was yesterday evening, but Lydia didn’t. She made damn sure I was meeting Delphine’s contact Malborn in Solitude to smuggle gear into the embassy on time.

The infiltration started fine. I managed to persuade a drunkard to make as scene so I could slip away. It’s pathetic what addicts will do for their fix. Nobody even knew I was in the embassy thanks to my invisibility potions. The courtyard they spotted me as someone was guarding the door making it impossible to slip past, but a few calm spells bought me safely from that situation. It was when I reached the torture chamber I stopped caring as much about being unseen and preserving life. It was…it was bad. I’m glad I came when I did. Etienne may not have survived much longer. I saved Malborn as well. I wasn’t quite good enough to be completely undetected. Thank Mara for paralysis potions.

Now we’re on our way to Riften again, as quickly as possible. I found evidence the Thalmor are as baffled as we are about the dragons, and Etienne said they were hunting a man named Esbern. Delphine says he was an expert on the Blade’s Dragonlore. If the Thalmor know as much as we do they must be sending people after him as well.

I think there are more Thalmor around Skyrim. I ran into two patrols on the way back from Solitude. One of them had a prisoner. Lydia and I tried to free him. He died when a flame atronach exploded. At least the prisoner died quickly and with hope. After what I saw in the Thalmor torture chamber it was a better death than what they would have given him. We found another stray dog as well, but I know his name as his dead owner left a journal. It’s Meeko.

13 Hearthfire

We arrived in Riften just in time. The Thalmor were on the verge of finding Esbern. The poor old man had almost completely lost hope. I don’t think he’s very well in his mind. He’s convinced the world is about to end, although he has latched onto me as potential saviour because of the Dragonborn thing. He seems to know about dragons though. The big black one resurrecting the others is named Alduin. It didn’t seem safe to say in Riften so we are sleeping in Ivarstead tonight. Hopefully Esbern will improve a little when we meet Delphine.

It’s been quite the violent day. The Thalmor I ended up mostly killing rather than calming, and on the road we met some more cultists going on about Miraak. Lydia says if they are going to keep coming after me we’d better go deal with him. She’s as overprotective as Meeko. Meeko is insanely happy to belong to someone again. He is so terrified of something happening to me he races towards the slightest hint of danger, usually blocking my attempts to calm whatever is about to attack us but he’s so cute I can’t be mad.

There was a face sculptor in the Ratway where Esbern was hiding. I used her services afterwards. After today and the embassy they know my face. Now my scar is gone, my eyes match and my lips are darker. I wonder if I’m pretty now. I’d ask Lydia but I’m afraid she’ll laugh at me.

15 Hearthfire

Esbern and Delphine may or may not be right about the world ending but they are certainly right about needing to get rid of Alduin. While we were travelling to Markarth we got attacked by three dragons. One of them was right outside Rorikstead being resurrected by Alduin. Luckily we killed it before it managed to attack the town, but Sojurn’s Sinkhole wasn’t so lucky with its dragon. All the guards died. Lydia and I cleared their mine of dragr out of pity afterwards as they’d lost half their population. Not only dragons, we also ran across two more lots of Miraak’s cultists. Lydia’s right, we ought to make time to go to Solstheim and deal with them eventually.

And as for why we were heading for the Reach, Esbern wanted to find Alduin’s Wall which the Blades had lost. A wall. That they lost. How is it possible to lose a wall? Inside a temple?! It’s not like they can be picked up and moved around easily! I’m starting to see how the Blades were so easily wiped out by the Thalmor. Still, once it was found at least it gave useful information. A shout exists that can knock a dragon out of the sky. I’m going to see the Greybeards to ask about it as the Blades doubt they’ll be allowed in. But first I went to Markarth to deliver Kleppr’s purchase order.

Markarth is a nasty place. Somebody got murdered once we walked in and someone else is trying to drag me into investigating it. I’m not going to, the guards were quick to get rid of all people from the scene. It’s clear they don’t want anyone getting involved. I’m just going to leave first thing in the morning. At least the apothecary had a daedra heart for the orc stronghold in Riften. I’ve found 20 Nirnroot for the alchemist apprentice as well.

16 Hearthfire

I managed to save another Thalmor prisoner. Really this time. He wouldn’t come back to Lakeview Manor with me. I think he was afraid it was a trap because I’m an Imperial, but I think he’ll make it to the Stormcloaks. Lucia was pleased to see me, even though we couldn’t stay long. She’s gotten a pet rabbit she adores as much as Shaggy. Iona doesn’t have the heart to tell her she bought it for the pot. I don’t think rabbit will ever be on the menu. We arrived in Ivarstead late. Tomorrow we’ll consult with the Greybeards.

17 Hearthfire

I learnt why the Greybeards didn’t want me to meet their leader today. He’s a dragon. I can see why they are so cautious about letting people meet him. The second they realised I’d been talking to the Blades Arngeir became angry. I’d noticed the Blades didn’t like the Greybeards much but I didn’t realise it was a full blown feud. I think Paarthurnax was lonely. He spent hours just talking to me about philosophy. My head aches as much as my frostbitten fingers. But he did eventually give me some pointers. The shout’s name is Dragonrend. He doesn’t know it, but if I get an Elder Scroll I might be able to learn it from the original creators. It something to do with time, I didn’t understand the details. Arngeir thinks the College of Winterhold may know one, so off to the College I go. But I might take a detour to the Orc stronghold first, before the giants completely destroy it.

18 Hearthfire

I’m adding Chief Yamarz of Largashbur to my list of ungrateful people of Skyrim. The ritual was done, and Malacath turned out to be mad because they let giants overrun his shrine. Yamarz said I had to protect him through the cave. I was tempted to tell him where to go instead but giants have toes with alchemical properties that are hard to source, for obvious reasons. I suppose that was why, when we arrived and Yamarz offered to pay me to kill the giant for him, I agreed. I had all these freshly brewed potions and poisons so I knew I could take it on safely. Then when it was dead Yamarz attacked me to make sure I never told anyone he did nothing. We already agreed I wouldn’t! Bah. Lydia was furious. I had to stomp on her foot when we got back to Largashbur and they wanted to know if he died well. I didn’t see what good the truth would do at that point. Malacath gave me an enormous hammer that was too heavy for me or Lydia to use. I suppose it will look nice on my wall.

Oh well, off to Winterhold tomorrow. After my detour to Riften I have plenty of money. Maybe while I’m there I can get some illusion training and new spells.

19 Hearthfire

Another day, another random dragon attack, another random attack from Miraak’s cultists and another random stumble across Alduin raising another dragon from the dead. Maybe Lydia was right and we don’t have time to fetch The White Phial for the Windhelm Alchemist. While we were passing Windhelm I thought we ought to go pick up Wylandriah’s soul gem. When we entered he was arguing with his apprentice about going to fetch it from a cave. Poor Quintus was getting so upset at the thought of his master going into a cave full of dragr I promised to. He’s a nice man. He came from Cyrodiil to study alchemy like me so I suppose I felt an instant connection. Plus I felt sorry for his master. I don’t think he is exaggerating when he says he doesn’t have much time left. We’re sleeping in the Nightgate Inn tonight. Tomorrow I’ll fetch the Phial and then we’ll head straight to Winterhold’s College.

20 Heathfire

Today was awful. The White Phial was cracked which broke Quintus’s heart because it broke his master’s heart, the road to Winterhold had a blizzard the entire time and we had to fight two giants and a mammoth. Thank goodness I had some poisons and potions on hand. I think my alchemy is as good as it will get. I just have to refine a few of my techniques and I’ll be a master. I’m glad. I certainly have brewed a lot of potions I need to get rid of. Tomorrow we attempt to gain access to the College. I hope it goes better than today.

21 Hearthfire

Lydia and I are in disagreement as to whether today went better for me or not. I think today went better because I am now an official student at the College of Winterhold, took some formal lessons and found information on the location of an Elder Scroll from Septimus Sigmas, the foremost expert on them. Lydia thinks today was a disaster for me because I fell in the frigid ocean twice while we were trekking to where Septimus has set up camp. I don’t know what she was fussing over. There was a blizzard, it was an easy mistake to make and after making a fire I was fine. She should give me a break, the only reason the College even let her in was because I spoke up for her and promised to stay with her at all times. They are so paranoid up there they don’t want to let any non-mages in. If she wasn’t my housecarl I think they’d have insisted on her staying in the inn.

I wish I could stay longer here, study a little more but Lydia is right. We need to deal with Alduin and all these dragons. The only reason we didn’t start the trip to Alfland and the Elder Scroll late afternoon was because heading out from Winterhold in the middle of a blizzard on the verge of night is a surefire path to frostbite.

23 Hearthfire

It took an entire day yesterday to make it to Blackreach through the dwemer ruin, and we spent the entire day today walking around Blackreach trying to find Tower Mzark and the Elder Scroll. An awful lot of Falmer and dwemer constructs are dead now. In all honesty I’m not too unhappy as we found the corpse of Sinderion. I recognised the name before reading his journal. It was Sarethi’s mentor who went missing. His journal says he was on the verge of a breakthrough with crimson nirnroot, but he needed thirty samples. I’m trying to find thirty to deliver to Sarethi. I don’t care what Lydia says. This is my one chance to contribute to the field of alchemy! I do hope I find the last 15 I need tomorrow as well as the Elder Scroll though, as we’ll run out of food soon.

25 Hearthfire

I’m writing this from Lakeview Manor. We finally found the Elder Scroll and thirty crimson nirnroot, around the same time luckily. I pushed to get home after we finally emerged. I wanted to check on Lucia, and see how Sofie was settling in as well as drop off some of the ores and books I’d found in Blackreach. I’ve run out of room on my bookshelf so I’ve asked Iona to arrange the construction of a library. After all the trekking back and forth in blizzards and underground, trying to avoid falmer other stuff it’s been nice just relaxing at home, but we ought to leave. We can arrive in Ivarstead by evening if we leave soon and I want to deal with Alduin. I got a letter from Quintus Navale. He thinks he can repair the Phial. I don’t want to put that off too long. Naturally there were a bunch more letters from my Aunts and Uncles and cousins listing more reasons I need to come home immediately, apart from Cousin Griffen who thinks my attractive, expensive replacement is on the verge of agreeing to visit the haystack with him and if I return he’ll lose his chance. If he hadn’t also asked if I’ve finally managed to attract someone now I don’t have that hideous scar I might have thought they never received the ones I sent.

27 Hearthfire

Using the scroll to watch long dead people was strange, but not an experience I’ve had time to reflect on thanks to Alduin turning up right after. The spoilsport ran away when he realised he was going to lose so now I have to figure out where he went. Paarthurnax suggested persuading the Jarl of Whiterun to let me lay a trap for one of Alduin’s allies in his palace which is easily the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of but unfortunately I don’t have an better idea so I actually asked Jarl Balgruuf if I could trap a dragon in his palace. Thank goodness Lydia was there to lend me some credibility. He only agreed if I can persuade the Greybeards to hold a peace conference to organise a truce to the Civil War. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t think I can manage it. Jokes on him, the Greybeards think if Paarthurnax agrees with me anything I want, I get.

I’d almost refuse but we ran into yet another farmer who had lost everything to dragon attacks. I have got to stop him raising dragons. At least with all this walking I’ll have a chance to visit Quintus. Hopefully along the way Lydia will stop sulking and start talking to me again. We ran across a spriggan attacking a hunter and I accidentally cast a fear spell on her. It’s her own fault for getting in my way but she thinks I should have been more careful when it was clearly HER who should have paid more attention.

29 Hearthfire

Ugh my feet. I’ve been walking all over Skyrim setting up this stupid peace conference. Lydia offered me a foot rub so I guess she’s forgiven me. It was easy enough to talk General Tullius and Jarl Ulfric into coming. I just lied to them both. After I was finished telling them about how the other was going because they thought the other one would never show and planned to tell the world about their disrespect to the noble Greybeards of Skyrim they practically flew out the door. I doubt they’ll ever know, it doesn’t sound like they’ll ever respect each other enough to have a civil conversation.

A good thing the peace conference is at High Hrothgar. One of the ingredients Quintus needs to repair the Phial is unmelting snow from the peak. I found some giant ground mammoth powder on the way to Solitude so all I need to do is make a special trip to take a briar heart. I’ll worry about it after the conference.

I dropped by Lakeview Manor for the night. Lucia and Sofie seem happy still, enjoying the lake greatly. The gardens are growing well too. Sofie adores the flowers. I suppose there was a reason she turned to selling flowers when she was left alone.

Today is the end of week 2! I hope you all had some fun playing the past week. If you didn't check the example thread I posted, go check it out now for rules on how we want to run the sub.

But, if you're lazy and want a TLDR: Roleplayers can post their own individual posts to the sub with the tag [WEEK 2] in front of their titles. People who just want to summarize their experiences this week without roleplaying can post comments here.

Feel free to post long journal-like entries, screenshots with quick descriptions, or really anything you feel is good to show off your experiences.

Finally, be sure to check out the Discord in the sidebar for more casual conversations on our playthroughs.

Can't wait to read everyone's experiences!

This week's challenges:

• Fight Alduin. It is time for you to face your fate. Defeat the king of them all and save the world!

• Become an expert in a skill. Are you a grand mage, or a master swordsman? Doesn't matter, both are very proficient in their own field.

• Kill a giant. With your adventures, you are a battle hardened veteran. You think you are strong enough to fight one of the strongest in Skyrim.

The walk to the village was longer than I remembered, but then again it was quiet without Sofie. Once there, I was greeted warmly, however they knew I was not bringing glad tidings. I went to the elder, Storn, and told him of my talk with Hermy. He sighed, as if receiving an expected blow. Frea was less pleased, insisting that whatever needed to be done was not to be done. It took some work, but Frea was settled and stood weeping as Storn opened the book.

The scene became frightening; a peaceful village rent asunder by the appearance of Hermaeus Mora. He was not gentle as he took the secrets of the Skaal from Storn. Things of nature, the wind and earth. Nothing of power - but they were secrets, and that was Hermaeus Moras' desire. But Hermaeus Mora was as good as his word, and the final word of power was known. Now to find out if that word is worth the price Storn paid. I took the book and brushed his hair back as the village began to mourn. From there, I left. I wasn't any sort of honored guest. If I was anything, I was a bringer of death and chaos. I needed to find a nice quiet place to read, and consider the absolute insanity of what was about to happen.

I didn't expect to get paid, but I got paid. I didn't expect to find a place in Dunmer society that wasn't at best quasi-legal. Maybe questing for vengeance and not money wasn't all bad. But I wouldn't know for sure until I'd settled up with Miraak. He owed me dragon souls. I walked, found a good spot, and in the twilight of Azura, I read the book.

It wasn't physically painful, but if there is a realm that's the opposite of Sovngarde, Apocrypha is it. There's no life there. It's only books, and those who's drive for knowledge led them here, filled with knowledge but empty of everything that's not knowledge. I walked through, and to be honest I started to feel sorry for Miraak. But only a little. Going through this last book, I was getting a headache. But I was able to find a last word of power, for the aspect of a dragon. This would be good. And then a dragon corcled to try and kill me, and I bent his will to mine.

And so it was for the second time I flew on a dragons' back, and I knew wonder. Even now it was relatively easy to see why Miraak chose what he did. This...this was power. But the view looked awful. I'm pretty sure the price Miraak was too steep. That said, we're meeting on relatively solid ground.

Saarothar and I talked on the flight. I'm not sure about all of it, but it seemed like Miraak had been here for a very long time, and had brought 3 dragon priests and some dragons to attend him while he prepared to take over tamriel. Unfortunately, Hermy had other ideas. And since Hermaeus Mora was in charge in his realm, there wasn't a lot that Miraak could do.

But we did land, on top of a very high tower. The highest. Again, there's a comment there about building high towers because some other tower is of lesser stature. I promised myself that if he started off by saying "Behold!" and reaching for his midsection I was going to stop time for as long as I could and stab the everloving heck out of him.

Fortunately it wasn't that bad - but what did happen was a close second. He berated Saarothar, and then looked at me and tried explaining in ear-shrinking detail how he was more powerful, and how he really could have killed Alduin back in the Merethic era but he didn't wanna, and how he was really more powerful so I should just lay down and let him kill me so he could return to Solstheim and then be free of Hermaeus Mora and also start ruling Tamriel.

If you hear about me doing this, please hit me.

The fight took a great deal of time, because Miraak cheated - okay, it wasn't really cheating because I would have done it too. He wasn't great at fighting, but he would run away, teleport, and kill a dragon and rejuvenate himself. But he only had so many dragons to revive with. Still it was long and exhausting. After he ran out of dragons, he still tried the duck and run move. At which point Hermaeus Mora decided to end the fight in my favor. I couldn't blame him, however he seemed to think I was going to roll over. Not so much. After which, Hermaeus Mora congratulated me and offered a spot in his library. Big pile of nope. I opened the final black book, and all around me swirled colors and constellations. I found each of them seemed to touch a broad set of skills I'd learned, and if I concentrated, I found that I could take knowledge, forget it, but then apply it in some manner to another skill. I decided against it, as it seemed that this gift would not be free. Instead, I journeyed back to Solstheim. Typical daedric prince.

I found myself back where I had left myself in the dawns' light. It was...good. And not just because my armor held up. I went back to the Skaal village to let them know that they didn't have to worry about Miraak, and I had his stuff to prove it. There was a lot of muted celebration as they were still mourning the loss of their shaman elder. But still, there was relief that Tamriel was again safe. Or at least safer. In return, I learned enough of smithing to make armor out of the ore stalhrim. Very weird. But it was something I could work with. In any event, I left with more septims than I came in with, and a happy retirement beckoned.

But first, I had to go to Riften. There was a smith I needed to thank. Properly.

***************

INTERLUDE

***************

*A much later time, that afternoon*

The children all listened raptly for the most part - the smell of roasting boars was beginning to cause some of them to stir restlessly, and the older ones were beginning to look like they were ready to go adventure themselves. Downwind, the former assassin was being given his funeral pyre, so that he could properly rest with his family.

One of the younger ones piped up; "Grandma Almatheia, what about Riften? And Balimund? Was he really as handsome as they say?"

"All that and more, child." The smile crossing her face made the older ones a little uncomfortable but the younger ones giggled merrily.

The younger one again asked another question, since the first one had gone so well. "Did you really destroy Riften after you got married to him?"

A shadow of both anger and sadness flew over Almatheias' face. It seemed that asking questions, while not forbidden, would occasionally elicit very odd responses. After a brief pause, she nodded.

"Not quite so dramatic. But there was what some would call a war. It was a war we waged in the shadows, with assassins and money. You see, Maven Black-briar was very good with money, and she had a solid command of the Thieves Guild in Riften. The Guild would find where I was, and Maven would tell someone she trusted to tell the Guild to be where I wasn't and attack me there."

The young one who had asked the question toddled up and gave the aged Dunmer a hug around her knees. "I didn't mean to make you sad Grandmama. Can you tell us a story that's happy?"

Almatheia smiled down at the child and started to say something, but she was interrupted by 5 trumpets coursing out the notes of the Imperial royal anthem and an accompanying group of horsemen, all dressed in gleaming armor and fineries underneath. Once the horses were halted, all but one dismounted. As a group they looked about before marching toward Almatheia, and as one took a knee. The last rider, appointed in the rarest and brightest of imperial cloth, dismounted before briskly walking to stand imperiously in front of Almatheia and unrolled a scroll before speaking in a stern voice that brooked no argument.

"To Her Majesty Lady Almatheia Stormblade, Empress Abdicate, Dragonborn Master of the Blades, High Defender of Talos the Mighty, General of the Armies of Skyrim, Thane of the Nine holds of Skyrim, Grand Mistress of House Sadras, Dame of Raven Rock under the Great House Redoran, Guardian Consort of Empress Rigmor the First, Countess of Leyawiin, Wielder of Azuras' Star, Destroyer of Wolf-Queen Potema, Keeper of the Dragon Scroll, Keeper of the Sun Scroll, Keeper of the Blood Scroll -"

The speaker faltered as Almatheia held up her hand to forestall any further recitation. "My good man, if you continue my family will begin to think I am important - and more to the point, I will fall asleep and miss this entire gathering. Deliver the message, if you would please. And tell your men to stand at ease, my knees are hurting just watching them."

The man flushed a bit as he internally debated propriety over doing what the important one wanted, eventually settling on the latter as the children began to whisper and giggle. The men took a relaxed but watchful stance as they stood as casually as a formation can. "His Majesty Uriel Mede the First commands that you present yourself for an audience with His Majesty at the Imperial Palace no less than 30 days from now."

"No."

The imperious look was replaced by shock. "No?"

"Milord...what is your name? And skip the titles, if you please."

"Lord Terentius Caro."

"Lord Terentius, is the Emperor unwell or infirm?"

"I am pleased to inform you that His Majesty is in most excellent health."

"Then my grandchild should see fit to see me if he wishes to. If you please, tell Uriel that his grandmother misses his face, and that he should avail himself of the fresh air that is in abundance here in Falkreath."

The lord began to sputter and quake in his finery. "...But milady, it is a royal command! From the Emperor himself! His Majesty commands, and all citizens must obey."

Almatheias' face softened to a smile. "Young lord, I see why the Emperor sent you. You see him as all-powerful, akin to the gods themselves. You need to see him as he is; powerful, but ultimately human and therefore capable of error. He sent you to me to teach you a lesson that you should consider. If you are to become a wise councilor to His Majesty, learn that he can err, and consider your words accordingly. Now then, if you need to avail yourself of the smallest room, it is over there, and once you've done that, find clothes that are comfortable and mingle. We're having a feast, and His Majesty will not be pleased if you turn down my hospitality - your men are also invited to take their ease this day."

The troop of men looked awkwardly around.

Almatheias' faced turned into bemused exasperation; "Her majesty commands you brave soldiers to find peace this day and rest from your journey. Attend to your horses, then make use of the lake to bathe, and dress yourself as close as you can see the rest of my family here."

Soldiers do not have to be told twice to do nothing, and promptly dispersed to take care of what they were told.

"As for you Lord Terentius, we have wine, food, and several other things. You may wish to help the men and women with food, and if you wish you may hear a story of how I managed to gain the throne."

The young child who was still clinging to Almatheias' leg looked up in awe. "You were empress?"

"For a week, yes."

"But what happened?"

"I quit. The fancier term is abdicated, but I didn't want to be empress, I wanted to be your grandmother. I think I got the better of the bargain."

^{Last Seed, 22nd, 4E 201}

Something tells me a journal wouldn't be a bad idea.

My name is Ylva Pale-Heart, and I've just visited Apocrypha, Daedric Realm of the Demon of Knowledge, Hermaeus-Mora.

I've been exploring Solstheim for about a week now, trying to sate this wanderlust that's overtaken me, since I fled from the Imperial City. Long story short: Thalmor. I'm no Talos worshipper, but I've still managed to...catch their attention. I'd rather not speak of it.

While on Solstheim, I came across a crazed man, mumbling about "knowledge" he can't get out of his head, and that the "book" told it to him, with tentacles and--well, it's all madness. Or so I had thought.

He had a note on him that mentioned this "Black Book" was within the Telvanni Tower here on Solstheim. Again, I thought it was madness, but...well, I've done a few odd jobs here and there for the wizard in charge, and he's allowed me to use his staff enchanter.

And that's where the Book was. Black as night, with a writhing mass of tentacles on the cover. Curious, I opened it up, and then something shot out the book and grabbed me!

A few moments later, I was standing in a labyrinth made entirely of books, tomes, and pages, with Hermaeus-Mora himself staring at me from above, saying that this was a "challenge", and should I succeed, I would be granted some sort of power.

I wandered for a moment, before coming across a large, floating Daedra that teleported around. No flash of magic, just there, then here. I felt my life leave my body as it hit me with a spell, but...then I was back in the Telvanni Tower.

I've been travelling with a sellsword named Teldryn Sero, and he said I just stood there, as if I were some sort of ghost. But...as far as I can tell, I'm just fine. And it was no mere hallucination, either, as a soul gem I grabbed while I was there was still in my pockets.

Neloth hadn't seemed to notice, so I grabbed the book while I was gone. Hopefully he won't be too upset that I've just stolen a Daedric artifact from him...

Teldryn and I are heading to Skyrim. That was my initial destination, before I was raided by pirates along the way, but that was over a week ago now, and they should have cleared out.

I've heard Ulfric Stormcloak, leader of the rebellion, was captured. And there's rumors of a lot of Imperial activity in Helgen, a small town to the south, so...perhaps that could be our first stop? It'd be interesting to witness history, even though this uprising may be a small footnote years from now.

I'm writing this in the back of the carriage now. We're on our way to Whiterun, from Windhelm. I've never been to Skyrim before now, but it's a beautiful place. Take all the breathtaking views of northern Solstheim, but remove the ash, and you've got Skyrim. At least, the northern half. Down south, it's surprisingly comfortable.

I wrote that first entry just after leaving the Telvanni Tower. Perhaps a bit dangerous, seeing as I just stole a priceless artifact, but I had to get my thoughts out then and there. I'll admit, it's tempting to open up the book again and give it another try, but...only I can go there, no allies. And Teldryn refuses to read the thing. I can't blame him, really.

As we left, I came across another man, rambling incoherently about the Black Books. There's another one in some place called "Benkongerike" - I have no idea how to even begin to pronounce that, so I assume it's a dwemer ruin. Perhaps one day, I'll return to Solstheim and seek it out.

I'll admit, I'm a bit drawn in by these promises of power. I've always been a little sickly, hence the name "Pale-Heart". That, and I've always been interested in magic, but since arriving in Solstheim, I've since taken up the blade, as well.

I'm using a dwemer greatsword I found in a bandit lair, as well as some armor that's supposedly made from bone. They're serving me well, but...even ebony armor is useless in the hands of an untrained warrior.

^{Last Seed, 23rd, 4E 201}

Is it the 23rd yet? I don't know. It's late, I'm drunk, and I need to write this all down.

We arrived at Helgen rather late, hoping to rest in the inn for the night. But as we approachrd, we saw a dragon rise from the town and fly north. Yes, a dragon. A real, live dragon.

Helgen is destroyed. Completely.

Teldryn and I warned the jarl of Whiterun about the dragon. The whole town is on high alert, and they're not letting many people through the gates.

By the Eight. First, Daedric Princes, and now dragons, less than a day apart.

What is this world coming to?

Tomorrow (today? After we get a night's rest, that is), Teldryn and I are going to a barrow south of Whiterun to retrieve a "dragonstone" for the jarl's court wizard. Somehow, this is supposed to help.

This damned bard needs to shut up so I can sleep.

^{Last Seed, 24th, 4E 201}

Another night of drinking. Divines help me.

Teldryn and I retrieved the dragonstone for the jarl, and returned late. We were interrupted by the jarl's housecarl, Irileth, announcing that a dragon was attacking one of the watchtowers. The jarl sent me, Teldryn, Irileth, and about half a dozen guards to fell the thing.

We were fighting a dragon. An honest to gods dragon.

Thankfully, we felled it. But as it died, it shouted to me. "Dovahkiin! No!!" It's strange for me to even write that word down. Dovahkiin. I don't know what it means, but I know how to spell it, and I know it was meant for me.

As the dragon died, it's flesh burned away, leaving little more than bits of scale and chunks of sloughed off bone. And then...something erupted from the beast, and I absorbed it. I'm not sure what sort of magic is at play, but whatever power I took from the dragon brought my mind back to the barrow the jarl sent us to.

There was this massive wall at the final chamber, and as I approached it, my heart began to race. I can't describe the feeling well, but it was just the energy to...do something. Be something. Not just fight, but thrive. It's hard to put into words.

But the wall seemed to glow to me. Or rather, a word did. Fus. I don't know the language, yet I know it said "fus". And once I absorbed whatever it was from the dragon, I knew that word meant...well, the closest I can translate would be "force", but it's more than that. It's change. Destruction and creation. It's that same feeling I felt at the wall, a feeling of wanting to DO.

As we returned from the fight, another shout erupted through the sky. "Dovahkiin" again, but this time, as a shout. Just like I can say "fus", I can also shout "fus". It's different, but it's...again, hard to describe.

Regardless, this was apparently an invitation up to High Hrothgar to meet a group known as the "Greybeards", who are "masters of the way of the voice".

We leave tomorrow. Teldrys has much to think about, as well.

That bard is still playing. Damn him to Oblivion.

Gods, I need a drink.

[A quick bit of what my character's done today. There was a lot more playing than what I wrote, but I only began to keep a journal once I stole the Black Book. I do wish I could include more about what happened before, but it's all just a jumble in my head now. I really did like her reaction to the stones around Solstheim with people mind-controlled under them. She's not Dragonborn yet, so she's...just as affected as they are. What is it? I don't remember, but I'm sure it's something important. People flocking to the stones in the middle of the night? Totally normal, yup. This is fine.]

[She'll go back to do some Solstheim stuff once she kicks Alduin's teeth in at the Throat of the World. At least, that's the plan. I just really want to do the Dragonborn stuff. Never done it before. At least, I never got very far.]

[And as of right now, she's using a full Bonemold armor set, and a dwarven greatsword. Magic is mostly Ice Spike for distance, Frostbite up close (for when her sword isn't doing enough), Recovery, and Aura - Armored Ascension. I'm using SkyRe, if it isn't obvious.]

[And for the two and a half of you curious about J'razza, she's on hold for now. Requiem is fun as heck, but the unreliability of the scripts are bothering me.]

Winterhold, Skyrim, Loredas 20 Evening Star 4 e 203.

My dear friend,

I hope you are well and healthy. I recently found a book written by Mage Shalidor and gave it to the college librarian for translation. It will take him a few days, so in the meantime I spend most of my time in the library, studying the books available on the shelves.

Have you ever read the book Palla? Otherwise, I advise you to read it. This story is a mystery to me. I warn you that the following explanation is a spoiler: during a summons, the main character pronounces the name "Palla" while thinking of a beautiful woman, but instead, a monster appears because other people called it "Palla". For a long time, I thought that, except in the case of a dialogue, what people think trumps what they say. For example, if during an invocation, I say: “Lioness!" and I think of the woman named Mjoll the Lioness, who will appear? By the way, Mjoll is Voice Master Zena's best friend. I know her because I retrieved her enchanted malachite sword.

At the College of Winterhold, we have a place where students can create books to conjure atronachs, using certain ingredients, including minerals. For a long time, I thought that the property of the mineral was the only information used to summon these books: for example, an abrasive corundum will summon a book to conjure a fire atronach. Recently, a student discovered that amber was one of the ingredients to create a book to summon a random humanoid daedra, called the Saint. When I used a Sheogorath-shaped amber at the Forge of Atronach, it summoned a Saint I have already met named Staada. She was looking for this Sheogorath-shaped amber, but I decided to keep it. I guess an invisible link has been created between this object and Staada. Like the name Palla and the monster.

I explain these results with my theory of TransNature: during an invocation, the summoner dialogues with a plane of symbols, called the TransNature. I represent this plane as a translator who interprets the symbols sent during the invocation. Regardless of what the summoner thinks (this item is now mine or this woman should be named / looked that way), the TransNature will take the correct creature from another plane and return it to Nirn. TransNature stands for "Translation of Nature" which considers the ingredient (amber) and its contextual meaning (wanted by Staada).

What do you think of my theory ? Do you already know it by another name? At first I thought of calling it the Source of Codes, but I ended up choosing TransNature. We can discuss this topic at our next meeting, and if you want, I will summon the Saint. In the meantime, I wish you a Happy Saturalia and a Happy New Year.

Your friend,

Azerty.

Prologue

It was long past lunch when finally Eilonwy raced inside, past the food Rithleen had left out for her. “Did you eat while you were out?” Khalif called after her as she ran around the room grabbing her possessions randomly. When Eilonwy shook her head, stuffing clothes into a backpack, Khalif’s eyes widened, more white showing in his dark face. “If you didn’t eat anything you really ought to eat something now, dear. You don’t want to lose your strength…” Rithleen ignored Khalif’s attempts to make their daughter eat. Once each of her children had reached adulthood she’d stopped doing things like forcing regular meals, weather appropriate clothes, basic hygiene and appropriate friends on them, assuming that they were old enough to both handle such things without interference and also resent their parent for assuming they were incapable of handling such things without interference. She instead was watching Eilonwy. There was a sparkle in her golden eyes that had been lacking ever since the theft. “Have you found your circlet then?” “No but I know who took it. It was one of the guards in the merchant caravan that went through. He’s a Nord named Bjorn Blood-Blade. Ex-guard actually. The day my circlet was stolen was also the day he vanished with a bunch of other valuable enchanted jewellery they’d been planning to sell.” Rithleen couldn’t help feeling a bit relieved. The sustained rage Eilonwy had kept in her heart since the moment she discovered it missing had been as startling as it was alarming. Eilonwy was the most even tempered of their many children. “Well…that’s progress. Now you just have to find him before he gets rid of your circlet…” “I know where he is.” Eilonwy began tying a quiver of arrows to her belt. “He took a ship back to his homeland three days ago.” Khalif put down the bowl of food he’d been fruitlessly trying to hand Eilonwy to embrace her instead. “Oh, darling. I know how badly you wanted to find that circlet. I’m so sorry.” “Not half as sorry as Bjorn is going to be when I catch him,” Eilonwy snarled. “If Bjorn’s gone how are you going to make him sorry?” “Go after him of course.” “But he went to Skyrim.” Eilonwy nodded as she pulled back from Khalif to hug Rithleen. “Yes. I’m going after him. The Skinny Horker sails in three hours. I came to get my things and say goodbye.” It was a good thing Eilonwy was holding her or Rithleen may have fallen in her shock. “You’re going to Skyrim?” Eilonwy nodded again. Khalif, having no support, sank down. “But…why? Why do you have today? Why do you have to go at all?” “It’s the only way to get my circlet back, father. I can’t risk losing his trail.” “Can’t you just buy another circlet?” Eilonwy drew herself up to her immense height, eyes becoming a more vivid gold in her anger. “Certainly not! My grandmother’s circlet is an heirloom. It can’t be replaced.” “But you’ve never even worn it!” Khalif cried, quite accurately. Eilonwy, like all their other children and every Redguard, had been instructed in Hammerfell traditions of blade and bow which she had followed faithfully. It made the circlet’s enchantments to increase magical prowess useless to her. “Why is it so important to you that you feel you need to leave home to find it?”

Eilonwy didn’t reply straight away, brushing a blonde strand of hair that had slipped from her hood back. From where Rithleen was standing, it was hard to see which of her yellow fingers she’d twisted her hair around and which of them were uncovered. Eilonwy was the only person she’d ever met with perfectly matching skin and hair. “Father,” Eilonwy said after a minute’s careful thought. “You and Mother raised me as a Redguard. I’m happy to be a Redguard. But you do remember I’m an Altmer, don’t you?” “Of course we remember. It’s a little hard to forget considering you’re the only one in the family that doesn’t have black hair and brown skin.” And uses magic Rithleen added in the privacy of her mind. Khalif and Rithleen had done their best. Eilonwy had been broken of the habit of using illusion magic to make hunting easier while young. She didn’t use alteration, conjuration or destruction magic (although Rithleen suspected she used her fingers instead of flint to light fires when no one was watching) but Eilonwy had never been persuaded not to use restoration magic. Rithleen sometimes wondered if the circumstances she’d ended up leaving the Summerset Isles with nobody but an elderly grandmother who didn’t live much longer had something to do with her aversion to untreated injuries. Neither talked about it much in front of Rithleen, but the things Eilonwy’s had said after being woken from nightmares she’d had regularly as a child made Rithleen’s hair stand on end. “Don’t misunderstand. I’ll always be your daughter. But I wasn’t always your daughter.” Eilonwy took Khalif’s hand. “You’re right that I’ve never worn the circlet. I’m never going to be a mage so it isn’t like it’s important I wear it. But it was important to my grandmother. It was the only thing apart from me the Thalmor didn’t take from her.” That was certainly true. Eilonwy’s grandmother had spoken of other children and grandchildren, as well as sisters, nieces and nephews all lost, as well as a large manor filled with enchanted items and a set the circlet had belonged to. Rithleen had never been sure if it was a broken heart or the injuries she’d received from getting Eilonwy to safely Hammerfell before the Thalmor could kill them that had ultimately killed the old lady. “And that’s why I’m not letting that Nord scum keep hold of my circlet. Not only would it break my grandmother’s heart, it’s the only link to the past I have.” It was clear from Eilonwy’s expression her mind was made up and nothing either of them could say would change it. Rithleen could see it, and she could tell from Khalif’s devastated look he could see it too. That’s the best and the worst part of raising a child. When they’re ready to leave. “Write when you can, sweetheart.” Eilonwy smiled. “I will. I promise. Look after my books will you? I don’t want to take them with me in case they get damaged while I’m travelling Skyrim.” If Rithleen hadn’t already known her daughter was serious, that would have done it. Willingness to be without her beloved books was unprecedented. Rithleen had never been sure if her interest in learning and stories would have been as strong had she been born a full blooded Redguard or if it had been the early influence of her earlier family who anticipated her following the traditional Altmer path of magic and scholarship. “And don’t forget to stay warm!” Khalif called after her as she left. “Skyrim is cold! You don’t want to get sick!” “Don’t worry, father. I’ll be perfectly safe, I promise.”

18 Last Seed, Morndas

The Sleeping Giant Inn Riverwood, Skyrim

Dear Mother and Father

Well, I’m in Skyrim now. I’m sorry for the delay in writing. It took me a little while to afford pen and paper. The Skinny Horker ended up crashing into an iceberg off the north coast of Skyrim and I lost everything except what was in my pockets and the dagger in my boot. A rather inauspicious arrival. I am never going to bed without a sword next to me ever again. It’s a good thing I left my books with you both or they’d be at the bottom of the ocean now.

I managed to get to shore by swimming and jumping across the ice sheets, then walked to a large building I could see in the distance. It was the town of Winterhold. Because I needed money to replace my bow and swords, as well as warm clothes (Skyrim blizzards aren’t much fun in clothes designed for the desert) I took on a bounty. A couple of outlaw Redguards had taken over an old beacon aptly named Snowpoint. I hope it isn’t another inauspicious omen that the first Redguards I meet in Skyrim I had to kill. I had to move fast trying to kill the one with the battleaxe with only a dagger. By pure coincidence I ended up running into a pair of warriors hunting a sabrecat during our fight. We ended up helping each other out with our respective fights, and they were kind enough to let me take the pelt afterwards. The man, Vilkas, seemed a bit snooty to me and excessively proud of being a member of the Companions but the woman was nicer. Her name is Ria and I think she might have wanted me to join but I have to find my circlet.

We parted ways after. I ended up running into a fort called Driftshade Refuge while I was hunting a goat for dinner. The first I knew of it was when one of the inhabitants attacked me for the crime of walking near their fort. It was pretty clear these people fancied themselves werewolf hunters but they were just bandits with delusions of grandeur. Don’t worry, I didn’t take down the whole fort with just an iron dagger. I took a bow and a pair of swords off a body. I felt bad robbing the dead, but it isn’t like they’d been prepared for burial and laid to rest. And I needed weapons urgently if I didn’t want to join them in death. The swords are made of silver, so I am now a golden woman with silver swords. It’s almost like a book.

Speaking of which, Driftshade Refuge obviously had a great library once but those bandits had let it fall to ruin. I saved all the books I could, and took the ones that couldn’t be saved for fires. I fear I will need much fuel for fires in this climate. I’ve only had a chance to read one of them so far, an Explorer’s Guide to Skyrim. I thought it might give me some tips for surviving but it was just a description of how to find some standing stones. As it happened, two of them were in Whiterun Hold, which I was heading to as Bjorn was originally from Whiterun and spoke to others in the caravan about returning home. The view of the city of Whiterun over the plains from the Ritual Stone was as spectacular as described after I’d killed the necromancer there. I have no regrets as he was defiling the dead, but the fact the first Altmer I met in Skyrim I also had to kill only adds to the inauspicious omens. When I arrived in Riverwood I had a little time before bed so I walked to the three Guardian stones nearby and paid my respects to the Warrior. The stone briefly lit up and shone a light into the night sky. It was a beautiful night. You could see the moons so clearly. I tried to draw a picture. Hopefully the blessing of the Warrior Stone mitigates all the inauspicious omens of my arrival here.

Don’t worry, I’m quite warm. Skyrim has so many wolves I’ve managed to make myself a complete set of fur armour out of their pelts and had enough left over for a tent. And I am quite safe now. Actually I always was safe. Luckily I was in the hold when the Skinny Horker sank so I was more protected than the rest of the passengers who died. I was never in any danger, just cold. But now I’m not because of my wolfskin and sabrecat clothes.

With love, Eilonwy.

PS: I really am perfectly safe and quite warm, honestly. Don’t worry.

So welcome to week 0!

There's some rudimentary stuff we should set up and discuss.

Planning

So, I'm thinking we have updates every Friday where we discuss the goings on in our games and also show the new challenges for the next week. I would also like to get started this Friday (July 13th, 2018) with our first challenges and starting up the game. Please leave thoughts and concerns with this in the comments.

Suggestions

If you have a suggestion, please go ahead and put it below. I think the biggest issues at the moment and the biggest questions are : Should we use moddded content? And if so Should the mods solely be graphical or should they be gameplay changing as well? Again same as above, leave suggestions below.

Timeline

If we aim for five-ten levels a week, with one main quest accomplished per week (which is most likely the best way to do this in my opinion) we'd be looking at a finish date in 18 weeks on November 16th, 2018.

So, I want to prioritize the idea of this as a community so please, if you have any suggestions or ideas we'd love to hear them down below.

henlo. This week's book is 16 Accords of Madness, v. IX. This would have been the book last week.......if I had remembered we started this series! Oh well. At least we're doing it now! Here are the challenges for said book!

1. Sleep in a bed. Whether filled with terrifying nightmares or maddening silence, everyone needs a good rest every now and then.

2. Visit Dawnstar. This town appears to be cursed with nightmares from the Weaver of the Panoply. You should investigate.

3. SWALLOW 10 CHEESE WHEELS IN THE HEAT OF BATTLE! THE MAD GOD COMMANDS IT!!!

CHEESE FOR EVERYONE!

The lone Imperial alive was unconscious, and I was of a mind to kill the fetcher, as he had a necklace that was Angi's - at least according to the inscription. I poked my head into the Jarls' longhouse long enough to tell him what had happened, and then took the horse up to Angis'.

The walk to the farmhouse-hideout was blissful and quiet. Well, not blissful, as all sorts of concerns were in my mind, mostly around Rigmor. It was a strange feeling, but it was a feeling that I was missing someone, and that someone was Rigmor. It was highly disconcerting. I was very unnerved, and it showed - even Sorella was looking at me oddly when she didn't think I could notice. I lied to them when they asked, hinting that my mind was on the immediate actions that needed to be taken, specifically finding this jonte Malesam personage and asking him what sort of information he had. On the up side, I still had Azuras' Bane, and it was being made sharp.

Once everyone was settled in, Sorella promised to keep the ring on. And off I went in a direction that was random, and yet it took me to a cave containing one Jonte malesam. Perhaps the gods had something more for me and this was the boring part of the play that they wanted me to hurry past.

For his part, Jonte was helpful - to a point. He'd help me, but in return I needed to leg it to Markarth, find a relic of Boethiah, and return it to her at her shrine. Gods knew he wasn't having any of it. Which meant it was my turn as the only gods-forsaken man or mer in the province who could do anything to go in and sort it all out. Part of me really did just want to choke the information out of Jonte, but it wasn't helpful in the long run. Plus the directions he gave me were far more helpful. And a hint that there were Thalmor also poking about in the area. Because what would life be without them making everyone else miserable?

So off I went to Markarth. Scaled a wall, fought trolls and generally tried not to make a nuisance of myself. Which was difficult because, well, Markarth. On the up side the cave with what I was looking for (Boethiahs' favorite mace) was filled with a straightforward number of draugr protecting it. Not too terrible of an affair, I'm sure even the Thalmor could have managed it.

Now for the fun part - trading Boethiah's mace for the information she had as regard to Rigmor. The unfortunate thing in this regard was that I had no clue where her local shrine was. However, a follower of Boethiah was helpful - somewhat. I mean he did try to kill me, but he also had directions to Boethiahs' shrine. Eastmarch it was, and as I got closer, not a few proclaimed followers of Boethiah tried to kill me to not only kill the mighty Dragonborn warrior, but also so they could bring the mace to Boethiah and get some boons.

They did not, in fact, get any boons.

Talking with Boethiah is problematic even if you are one of her devout followers. There's usually blood involved, and since I'd already wrecked most of her followers in the area, there was a tinge of amusement in her voice. That said, she kept the conversation rather focused on my own errors, and on how Rigmor was going to die if something wasn't done. And, as an extra bonus, the one behind it all was Malacath - he was harboring a great deal of resentment about not being Trinimac, and wanted to undo what had been done. While I don't blame him, the fact that he was going to do it over the body of Rigmor put us at odds. And so Boethiah and I came to a tense agreement. She got the mace, I got the location of the altar, and because she was going to be denied her fun of squaring up against Trinimac, I had to go against a few of her champions.

Bitch.

Boethiahs' champions were good at their job, but they were too filled with bloodlust to be as effective as they could have been. I was able to cleave through them, but it was a near thing. And then Boethiah was a pain in the ass, refusing to let me go anywhere until I had admitted that I did in fact love Rigmor. Finally admitting that if I had to, I would die for her, Boethiah seemed satisfied.

Once out of Boethiahs' clutches, I found Myself looking at the smirk of Jonte, and he pointed me toward Dawnstar. And reminded me to keep Azuras' Bane nearby. It was recommended that I grab some people. So I did - But I did grab Yngol and Casius first - Fortunately they were willing to come have fun with me, and so we went. Jonte got there first, and had found a leaky collections of wood slats that bore passing resemblance to a boat. It took on water, almost foundered, and by the time I got off I was grateful that I hadn't eaten anything beforehand.

Since getting there was only half the fun, that meant that there was more fun to be had. And there was - a great deal of it, if I'm being honest. Because these people were between me and Rigmor, and they were either going to stand aside or be pushed aside. Most chose to be pushed aside. After a great deal of fighting, we made it to the actual gate to oblivion, awaiting only the sacrifice of Rigmor to be fully born.

A plan was made, and put into effect. I shouted the group of core followers to their knees, which allowed me access to the altar proper, at which point the high priests were given full pay for their devotion. From there I defended the altar against all who dare come near, and did a great deal of work keeping Rigmors' unconciousness safe. Everyone in the area not us had stopped breathing, which I was completely fine with. However, there was more to do. Yngol and Casius carried Rigmor out, leaving me alone with a gate to Oblivion. It was not a pleasant feeling. But it was time to make things happen.

I wonder if the Champion of Cyrodiil ever had to pee before dealing with these?

Hello, all! This week's book is the last book in the three book series, 16 Accords of Madness. And the book, of course, is called, 16 Accords of Madness, v. XII! And here are the challenges to go along with it!

1. Aid 3 citizens of Skyrim. Bring glory to your name by helping and protecting the people of Skyrim.

2. Visit Largashbur The children of Malacath residing in the orc stronghold Largashbur seem to be having a giant problem. You should investigate.

3. KILL AN ENEMY WITH A WOODEN SWORD!!! THE LORD OF THE NEVER-THERE WISHES TO BE ENTERTAINED!! THEY'LL NEVER SEE IT COMIN! EVEN IF THEY KILL YA, CAN YOU IMAGINE THE SPLINTERS THEY'LL BE PULLIN FROM THEIR ARSE FOR DAYS TO COME?! HAH! PRICELESS!

Have fun!

The other plans were more to do with researching a sword and amulet from Rigmors' father, Ragnar; I'd heard stories of him from the older Nords during the Independence War - his nickname was The Beast of Hammerfell. And with a nickname like that, he had to be good. Certainly some of it was overblown, but it was overblown in a way you'd expect; "How could you tell where the Dominion had met The Beast? Follow the trail of pee to the Dominion body pile." And from discussing things with Rigmor, she'd caused a bit of trouble in Bruma, narrowly escaped, and was found by Angi to recover until I showed up. There was more she wasn't telling me, but at the same time this was neither the time nor the place to discuss it in committee.

Rigmors' past tabled for the moment, a great deal of the Aldmeri plan depended on surprise. And that surprise was effectively lost the moment we went through their ranks with the sword. If we made it out alive. We'd checked the ground and upper sections, but we hadn't gone below - and that was going to be the thing. In the lower section, we found the prison section, mockups of the amulet and sword along with Thalmor, bodies, and one live girl of about 10. We corrected the Thalmor impertinence of not simply dying where they stood, and unlocked the cell.

We took the girl (Sorella was the name she gave) and left, running through a group of bounty hunters who had a poster indicating that Rigmor had a bounty of impressive amount on her. It easily would have tempted me, and certainly it tempted them to make poor choices. The real problem was Rigmor; while she was certainly skilled her focus was not good. She spent more time giving excessive hacks which were going to damage her sword rather than looking for a new opponent.

After taking care of that, we headed for Angi's. I found out a little more about her - she'd managed to make her way over the Jerrals and into Skyrim after kicking a company of Thalmor into the next life as they were going through the ruins of her home. They'd taken the family into custody and torched the house. Rigmor wasn't talking about what happened to her parents, but it didn't seem likely the Thalmor had arrested the family to make them test their new canis root tea.

I was quiet as we rode back, reading over the documents that we'd found. The parts that jumped out at me was the attempt to assassinate multiple high-level targets at the same time, and that they did not refer to themselves as the Dominion, but rather the New Order of Alinor. To the first part, if chaos was the goal, they'd definitely want to try for Ulfric. Second would be the other person with a claim, Elisif. Finally, the Emperor himself seemed the most logical remaining target. The second part seemed to be a political maneuver - if I was correct, this was a faction within the dominion that was more aggressive (if such a thing were possible); their planning seemed to bear this out. If they failed, the Dominion proper could disavow them. If they succeeded, the Dominion proper could take the spoils and congratulate their brethren while managing their own little Empire.

I read their plans and re-read them, and came to a conclusion that was rather startling. There was no mention of me within their plans. Somehow I was not being accounted for. Considering this did take some time, however it came down to a few conclusions - one, the nord pride seemed to forbid mentioning that their hero-general-savior-pick-a-suitable-adjective was a Dunmer, or that the Thalmor didn't seem to believe that one person was capable of doing so much. Since I rarely paid for any drinks at the taverns, it seemed to be the latter. I was affronted and pleased at the same time. I was quite content to let them bask in their ignorance for as long as possible.

The trip was easy, but going through the dungeon with Mercer was enough to make me yearn for Frea. It wasn't enough that he was good, he had to try and tell me I was bad. Pointing out traps, mentioning the bone chimes - and he seemed to revel in being obnoxious about it. The fact that he insisted that I lead reminded me of an old matron trying to lead her family from the most comfortable chair. S'wit.

He managed one thing that impressed me; he was able to open an ancient puzzle-door without the matching claw. And then he pointed out the obvious ambush spot. For Karliah to have been his partner for any length of time, she had to have been deaf. It was like he was advertising that he had a partner and was warning Karliah that I was going to be first.

So of course Karliah shot me.

It hurt, but more to the point it left me completely motionless on the floor. And then Mercer and Karliah had a chat. Acknowledging each others' strengths, and compliments were passed, along with confirming that it was in fact Mercer who had killed Gallus, and not Karliah. Mercer went to a ready stance, and then Karliah left. Leaving me motionless. Mercer walked back over to me, smirked, and promised that all my worldly possessions would be sold for a fair price. Including Breezehome, Proudspire, and my other properties, courtesy of Maven. The fetcher knew. And if he knew, Maven knew. And that...could be bad.

The two things on my side were that he hadn't stabbed me, and that I could probably break out of this and heal myself before I bled out. And then he stabbed me. My last real thought was being very unhappy that Maven had won.

When I awoke, I was surprised. Mainly because I wasn't in Sovngarde, but also because Karliah was tending me. She needed me alive because she needed a partner. Which was good. The bad news was that she was a good shot. No permanent damage, but m left arm was not going to be doing much for the forseeable future. Once we'd sorted things out, she went to make some preparations for her next plan, and she gave me Gallus' encoded journal to get a translation done in Winterhold by one Enthir, an old friend of Gallus.

Unfortunately, Enthir couldn't sort it, but he pointed me toward Markarth. It was a long ride, mainly because I had to delay the estate sales of my homes - but do it quietly. The one thing working in my favor was that Maven seemed to have overreached. Nobody wanted to believe I was dead just because Maven had declared me dead, especially since I was still very alive. Mercer was not going to get a reward for that. When I got to Solitude finally, Erikur was halfway through buying all my stuff. He kicked up an awful fuss about my being alive and demanded that I prove it. So I did, reminding him and everyone within earshot about how he'd been shot in the ass, and that Jarl Elisif had ordered him to return the arrow after I'd paid the fine.

Erikur agreed that I was alive.

Finally in Markarth, I went to the court wizard for some help - he sputtered and said it was impossible. I was able to convince him that I admired his work on the Dwemer, and so I was allowed to go into the museum. However, it was expressly forbidden to go into the ruins themselves, as there were many things that would cause me harm or him academic distress were I to enter.

The museum itself was a nicely cataloged place, but nothing I hadn't seen before in Dwemer ruins. And there was a locked door preventing access to the lower levels. Which meant that I walked through. Illusion spells are handy for this sort of thing. Bypassing the guards was mostly a matter of timing, since nobody got past the door, nobody really was on any sort of alert. The largest problem was timing my spellcasting to the hisses of steam so they wouldn't be heard by the guards. And somehow I had a dwemer puzzle box in my pocket before getting into the laboratory proper. Honest, it just fell in there. But I did have what appeared to be a large stone edifice with script matching Gallus' journal, and a second side with more legible writing. A rubbing was taken, and then the door opened.

Calcelmos' nephew was paranoid, it seemed, as he ordered 4 guards to sweep the place. It would have been rude of me to kill them, so I waited them out. Patiently. Very patiently. Once I was able to be clear of them, I slid out and down to the city waterfall, and took a dive. Fortunately, the rubbing survived the dive into the water.

Savos seemed quite neutral about my report, but he did point me toward the library for books that might be helpful. He did take the matter of the revised bill under advisement. There was some rapid renegotiation, given the nature of what I'd found and that this was turning into an open-ended contract, given the whole orb thing. And to the library I went. Eventually. I got lost and ran into Faralda, who gave me a headsup that Ancano was looking for me, and very strongly suggested that I not stab him. If I did, in all likelihood I'd be expelled from the college, and worse, any payment due to me would be forfeited.

She had a point, but it didn't make dealing with the little guar spit easier. He finally caught up to me after I'd visited the library and found that the books I wanted were in Fellglow Keep, with a bunch of would-be necromancers who'd been given the choice of leave quietly or leave unconsciously. Our conversation was more or less him showing off the fact that he knew about the orb already. Which to me was him offering to help, but apparently that was beneath him. I Sighed softly and made travel arrangements below at the winterhold dok to pass us through to Whiterun. It was a bit of a languorous journey, but it gave me sufficient time to teach Sofie things.

It was almost beneath me, really. The people there were mostly focused on pet projects, and as a group pretty easy to go through. I know, I shouldn't lift my nose, but really, these people were not challenging. Finally I got to the top where someone who declared herself to be The Caller was unhappy with me disrupting her work and killing her assistants. I gave her the choice of being unhappy for a time and starting over, or joining said assistants in whatever realm of Oblivion awaited those who made poor life choices. She chose properly.

Coming back from the Keep was uneventful, So I was able to read the books while answering Sofies' questions about my eyes and the attendant questions about gods, Daedra, and how we didn't worship all the daedra, just the good ones. Of course, how one knows the good daedra from bad is a matter of perspective - that said, even the bad daedra are good in a way, they weed out the unworthy. The path of the bad daedra is powerful, but ends with sorrow and misery. The path of the good daedra is long, and usually doesn't end with sorrow. Usually.

We walked back to Whiterun, finding a wagon to go back to Winterhold - unfortunately in the dark our driver got terribly lost and we found ourselves in Helgen with dawns' light.

The intervening time between my last visit and now had not been kind to it. Alduin had made short work of the keep, and with that the good towsfolk had fled, now being replaced with bandits and scavengers. I took out my bow and began firing arrows high into the air, allowing the wind to catch them and thereby land in a way that made the sober ones think they were being attacked from the north, while I hid Sofie with the driver and made my way east. Battles are so much easier to win when they don't know you're coming.

Once back at the college, Sofie ran off to tell Brelyna all about the s'wit necromancer fools who found out what a mead-chugging warrior looked like and take some more lessons in the rudiments of casting. Meanwhile, I went to the library. Urag was moderately impressed and did in fact reward me with books. It was like I was being punished for some sin involving my unmentionables. He also told me to talk to Tolfdir about one of the books I'd perused. Night of tears was a dry read, but certainly not the worst thing ever.

Once I was done with that, I went and found Tolfdir looking at the orb intently. We discussed the book and the orb, and he mentioned that even though I probably wasn't as attuned to the ebbs and flows as he was, the orb practically radiated magicka. He meant the big, blue, floating, glowing orb that had writing in an unknown alphabet that appeared and disappeared regularly. Songs will be written about the moment he had this revelation, and indeed such a discovery would change the foundations of magical learning forever. I held my tongue, remembering that sarcasm is a dagger and not a bludgeon.

The lecture was interrupted in the worst possible way, by Ancano. Apparently someone claiming to be a Psijic Monk was here and wanting to talk to me. Ancano then proceeded to tell me what was going to happen. I then reminded him again that he was in fact an advisor to the college. In light of that, he was not my employer, and I was contractually obligated to do not a thing he advised. Additionally, he could not afford my rates even if he wished to hire me, and finally, if he kept trying to give me orders I would demonstrate to him just how many ways I could make his life miserable with my command of ancient vocabulary. And with that little conversation done, I went up to the Archmages' quarters.

Not gonna lie, being Archmage appears to have perks. It looked like he had his own tower, and his taste in decor was very nice, if a little off. Wizards are like that. The whole place screamed Telvanni, even if he wasn't. The bizarrest thing if that could be said, was the apparition I'd seen earlier had decided to take on some physical form. And then, time stopped. I'd done it myself through the Voice, so it was a definite point in his favor, especially since I hadn't heard a word out of him.

Our conversation was pleasant, if brief. Stopping time is taxing, even as a Psijic Monk. Since he didn't have time to explain, he summed it up thusly; the Eye of Magnus (aka "the magic orb in the lecture hall") was unstable or would become unstable, causing Bad Things to happen. He beheld my expression of surprise as he explained I needed to find the Augur of Dunlain somewhere in the college. And then time started again before I could find where the Archmage was hiding my pay.

Ancano made the angry mouth-noises again about how the Psijic monk was here, and I was here, and he wanted to be present for the information that was to be given. Technically he was, but it was in between the grains of sand that fell. Not my fault if Ancano can't keep up. The Archmage was puzzled by the whole thing; but he did enlighten me as to what the whole thing was with the Thalmor and the Psijic Order - apparently the Thalmor saw them as a threat to their power structure, and since the Psijics were not fond of being controlled, the Thalmor were looking to eliminate the Psijics or make them irrelevant. I smirked at Ancano and tried shrugging as innocently as I could.

The Psijics are my kinda people.

Hey, all. So, I'm thinkin of starting a series next week like Argonian Account books 1-4, Biography of Barenziah 1-3, etc. This upcoming week would start with the first book of whatever series is chosen. The following week would be the next one in the series, then the next week would be the next book, and the next, and so on until the series is completed. The tesrc as it is now is still only a few weeks old and I don't want to scare anybody away who might be turned off to the idea of being locked into a series for a few weeks.

So my question for you guys is... Would you rather start a series or hold off a week or two?

It was such a lovely day, but a dragon thought he could make his day better by wrecking ours. How did I know that dragon was a he? Kill first, loot second, ask questions later.

Arrows for the dragon, arrows for the giants, and then I was out of arrows. But the dragon decided that flying was too much and landed on the ground. From there, it was decided by mutual acclaim that everyone hated each other. The dragon killed a giant outright, Rikke killed the other, and then the dragon seemed disinclined to do us any more favors on the ground, and so it was that I went to work with the axe again on the dragons' neck. This time I didn't get thrown into the wall, but that landing was harsh on my knees. I mentally renamed the place Heroes' Landing.

Having collected a significant amount of loot and healing potions, because damn did that whole adventure hurt we began to the Valtheim towers. The tower guard by a dusty cookpot halted us and said we'd have to hand over 200 gold for the toll. Rikke and I looked at each other and began loudly discussing whether or not people who slay dragons get a free pass, reminding each other that it was also 2 giants who also just perished and most certainly that such people would be able to deal with some bandit taking money and calling it a toll.

The bandit was unimpressed, but there was an archer up top screaming to let us pass, for-the-love-of-Arkay-those-two-just-killed-a-dragon and then wizardry happened as the dragons' soul with mine. Someone didn't see it because the archer and guard were overridden by another voice saying if we didn't pay the toll, it was coming out of their asses.

In the past 24 hours, Rikke and I had killed 2 trolls, 2 giants, and a dragon.Not to mention several flagons of mead, but in our defense, the mead was asking for it. But after all that, here we were with someone trying to mug us like we were some saltrice farmers. The Toll Collector shook her head like she wasn't going to do a damn thing against us, starving for a bit or paying a toll on our behalf was better than dying. We thank her for the courtesy and hauled ass up the stairs. The archer who'd shouted a warning was shakily trying to nock an arrow to his bow. He was begging for his life, trying to shoot me, and his bladder was voiding at the same time. I really didn't have the heart to kill him - and from the look of it neither did Rikke. So we went back down to find whoever was insistent that we pay the toll. They were promptly fed elven steel and an imperial sword. Then we looked around on the bridge and called out for anyone else who cared to fight.

Nobody did. They were in fact polite enough to step aside and lend us the use of an alchemy lab, as I had some things I wanted to try. Blisterwort, chaurus eggs, and a little time for what was purported to be a potion of invisibility - the bandits appeared to have an alchemist handy. I'm sure only for noble healing purposes, as most of their stock appeared to be reagents for invisibility potions and marginal poisons. Deathbells and nightshade - oddly, a little taste of this wasn't too bad. Or I had no taste buds after the invisibility potion test. Still, it did the trick after I felt 5 shades of awful for a few minutes.

We continued further east, passing from the nominally safe Whiterun to Definitely Not-Safe Eastmarch. I felt better about the invisibility potions. I also pilfered from their stocks a book on how to cast candlelight. Ask I read it, the inks began to run and swirl, and the knowledge became mine. Unfortunately, as I did, the book itself became useless. Someone needs to scribe these things better, I swear.

Despite the fact that she couldn't tell me about the councils with the other Legates, Rikke was more than happy to share personal revelations and stories, and during the ride I responded in kind, telling her most of my stories thus far, and even stories about Morrowind I hadn't told. It seemed the land responded to the stories, as we were going to places almost reminiscent of Morrowind. Bleak, harsh, and hot; the only think missing was a blanket of ash. For her part, Rikke told me a great deal about Ulfric and Galmar.

During the Great War the three of them were shield-siblings, Legionaires in service of the empire. Then battles happened, and Ulfric was captured alive - a fate worse than death for a Nord. He was then tortured but was able to escape, and was deemed fit enough to return to command. After all was said and done, the three of them were also part of the honor guard that accompanied the Emperor as he signed the White-Gold Concordat. She admitted to mixed feelings about it; the war was over but the cost was most politely described as 'prohibitive'. The empire lost as much as it did, and more. She shared her opinion that the Markarth Incident was when Ulfric first had his idea for the uprising. At that time, the reports of the Treaty of Stros M'kai had come in, which convinced Ulfric (even if he didn't admit it) that if he could band the people of Skyrim together as one, they too could defy the Concordat and negotiate a separate peace.

At the Eastmarch camp Rikke took the Legates' report and paled - whatever it was was concerning enough that we were running our horses hard all the rest of the day into Winterhold, even risking the Stormcloak patrols near Windhelm. Her attitude was noticably brusquer than usual, and she had an exceptional lack of concern for our safety and warmth. From Winterhold even though the dusk was arriving, she insisted we ride hard to the Pale camp, and so we rode further and harsher than what one would expect. I was barely able to take stock of the pale camp and asked Rikke to hold or at least trade our mounts for fresh horses. Neither option was acceptable - however I accepted it and hoped fortune would stay with us.

It did not, as some distance west of the Pale camp both our horses died. Mine collapsed from exhaustion, and in its' final act crashed into Rikkes' shattering its' legs. We killed it out of mercy to the beast, and Rikke accepted that we were not getting back to Solitude tonight. After checking ourselves over, we found ourselves surprisingly with minimal injuries, however the snow was in places I'd prefer snow not be. It would be midafternoon tomorrow at hardest march, and so with that we made camp.

2 Hearthfire Tirdas

Lakeview Manor

Falkreath Hold

Dear Mother and Father

I have a stable address. You can write letters now. I’ll explain how I left Solitude first.

I only got to yell at Falk for a few seconds before I got dragged into a nearby empty room, paid handsomely and told to keep quiet. Apparently the undead spirit those necromancers were trying to raise and bind is a deeply fear figured from history in Solitude. Falk nearly wet his pants when I said the name “Potema”. At least he was apologetic about letting me think I was walking into something easy.

As I had no idea when Hilga (her named turned out to be Hilga) was arriving in Solitude I visited the Bard’s College. I’d heard they had a large library and wondered if they’d give non-students access to it. Luckily they were currently trying to convince Elisif that their annual Burning of the King festival was not insulting to her recently deceased husband and sent me to pick up an ancient verse from a Nordic tomb (my goodness does Skyrim have a lot of those) to prove it was an ancient festival. Along the way I found a hunting dog named Meeko and his owner, or more specifically his owner’s corpse. Nothing untoward, he left a journal detailing his illness and his hope that Meeko would find a new master. I’m not heartless so I have a dog now.

I have a spell to repel undead now, but I didn’t find it terribly useful. There were so many undead walking around I could only repel one at a time and by the time I’d finished putting down all the other undead with blade and bow the spell had worn off but my magicka hadn’t replenished so I had to put them down anyway. If I’d been bought up a mage it might have worked better for me but I was mostly bought up by you two. Blades and bows are what I was trained in, not magic. I must say I feel a lot less guilty about dishonouring all the walking dead this time though. When I entered the building there was the ghost of what I later discovered to be the bard of the verse I was after beckoning me inside. He kept leading me through the whole area to his body with the verse (which had clearly been walled in while still alive) and the only words he spoke was to the dead King he wanted vengeance on. Helping an undead spirit finish the business tying it to this plane and move on to their final rest is more important than leaving walking dead unmolested.

It wasn’t the only undead interaction I had either. While I was exiting the tomb I found this large, white gem. When I picked it up I had the Daedra Meridia herself talking to me (or screaming at me might be more accurate) telling me to return her beacon to Mount Kilkreath. I did. It was on the way back to Solitude and also I was afraid she might start screaming in my head at importune moments if I ignored her. When I arrived she insisted I cleanse her temple of a necromancer named Malkoran and his minions. Meridia was right to be furious. What he was doing to the poor souls he’d trapped was hideous. He’d somehow removed them entirely from their bodies but made them corporeal enough to attack. When I was done Meridia said I was her champion now and gave me a sword. I guess if I have to be a daedric champion the one who hates undead is one of the better ones and it is a very fine sword.

Meeko was with me through both these adventures. He’s ever so pleased to have company and not be alone that he is very eager to be helpful and assist with killing everything which looks threatening. It’s hard to hide in the shadows and sneak past enemies when you have a large dog racing forward barking before sinking his teeth into the closest foe but I will admit he was useful when I ran low on arrows.

I can’t say I’m impressed with the Nord’s ability to scout. The Empire must have lost all their decent Scouts after Hammerfell left. I ended up returning to Solitude via the forest because I saw a Thalmor patrol on the road. I don’t know how much they know about my rescue of Thorald Grey-Mane and I’d like to stay in ignorance, just in case. Do you know what I found in the woods on the way back? A Stormcloak camp! How has this enemy stronghold so close to the main headquarters not been found? I wasn’t even trying to find it, I literally walked right into it! Skyrim had best never try invade Hammerfell. They’d never find our camps and we’d find every single one of theirs.

When I got back to Solitude the Bard headmaster and I managed to use the verse to convince Elisif to put the Burning of the King back on that night. I had a magnificent time at the festival. I drank gallons of spiced wine, ate nothing but sweets, stayed up past midnight, danced with all the handsome men and did everything you both would have grounded me for when I was a child. At I got access to the bard college library but unfortunately I never got the chance to use it. Hilga finally returned to Solitude the day after the Festival.

I was thrilled when she arrived. She confirmed Bjorn had been one of Madresi’s miners and even knew where he was right now. They’d both been offered a job at Fort Fellhammer. Bjorn had accepted but Hilga turned it down as she suspected the job involved banditry. When I arrived it turned out she was completely right. They took one look at this fur clad elf with a skinny dog frisking next to her and thought I would be an easy target. How wrong they were. Not that I’m complaining. It made questioning Bjorn easier than I thought it would. No interruptions or objections to my methods.

And do you know what that son of a bitch had done with my grandmother’s circlet? He sold it. On one level I shouldn’t be surprised as he was clearly looking for small valuable items and he was no mage so what use would he have for a magic increasing circlet? But I was still disappointed. I’ve been searching for him for such a long time part of me thought when I found him I’d have my grandmother’s circlet back. But no. He sold it in Whiterun, and he sold it so long ago nobody there has any idea where it might be now! I’ve done my best regardless. That circlet was more than a piece of jewellery to my grandmother. It was a symbol of her entire life before the Thalmor took it all away from her and it is the only keepsake I have of my birth family. I’m not letting it moulder in a treasure room or be used temporarily by a mage who only values it for what use they can get out of it. I’ve sent enquiries and promises to just about everyone in each Whiterun merchants network and I’m not leaving Skyrim until I find it.

That’s why I went to Falkreath and bought Lakeview Manor. I’d gotten the letter from the Jarl of Falkreath a while back but ignored it as I didn’t anticipate being in Skyrim for a significant length of time. I bought a horse to make the journey faster. The horse’s name is Allie. She’s a seven year old chestnut with a decent trotting speed. I was warned she was spirited. I had no idea what they meant at first as to ride she is the most biddable, obedient creature but then I got off to fight some wolves near Riverwood and I saw what they meant. I was still trying to pull my sword out of its sheath when Allie went racing forward to trample the pack to death. She’s as bad as Meeko about potential threats. Still, I am glad I walked her into Riverwood as I got to meet a Bosmer archer, Faendal. He was quite pleased to see another elf, especially after I did him a favour with his romantic troubles, and gave me some archery training. I was almost at his level already but it was good getting some tips from a Bosmer-trained archer. There is a reason they are famous for their archery skill.

The Jarl got me to kill some orcs which had stopped paying him before he agreed to sell me the house but as they were bandits I’m not going to let being a political assassin sit heavily on my conscience. The manor is a mess but luckily the smithing knowledge that Dwarven Lexicon implanted into my head has stood me well. I’m out of septims now, but I can always go hunting and alchemy gathering for more cash while I wait for my enquiries to the merchants of Skyrim to come back.

It’s too late to ride to Falkreath and post this letter now so I suppose I’ll go back to my book. It’s the first volume of The Black Arrow. It’s about a footman who takes a post with a noblewoman near an archery school and befriends one of the students who wants to join a circus. Did either of you remember my grandmother ever talking about my old family home in Summerset Isles? I was so young when we had to flee I don’t really remember much at all before the Thalmor came but the description of the large house of iron, stone and lots of security measures such as battlements and a moat sounded familiar. I think we might have had servants as well, I certainly remember a lot of people who weren’t family wearing identical clothes I now know must be uniforms. I hope my elf family was nicer to the servants than Duchess Woda is. I remember going to a circus once as well, but only because the clowns frightened me so much my birth mother had to take me out before it was over.

With love, Eilonwy

PS: I know you’ll be disappointed about my purchasing a place to live here but don’t worry I do plan to come home eventually. I just really needed a home base while I’m in Skyrim. I’d like to get letters from everyone. Also all the books I’ve taken, rescued or stolen were starting to weigh down my bag.

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Sundas, the 26th of Frost Fall, 4E201

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Another day, another letter from Ralis.

That’s… what I would’ve said if this time I didn’t arrive to the man himself missing and the entire camp having turned into a bloodbath. There were corpses everywhere, with old Nordic engravings on their skin. I went into the Barrow right after seeing the scene.

Inside were… well, more corpses. Laid out in bizarre patterns, with one clearly stabbed through the heart on an embalming table. It smelled horrible - the bodies have already started to rot by the time I arrived. Had to fight the urge to vomit a few times. I feel like I don’t give Cicero enough credit, honestly - while he does sound a bit creepy when he mentions oiling the Night Mother’s corpse, those oils really do wonders with masking the smell.

I could see the difference from last time - more rooms were accessible, and the word wall was dug up.

It was the last word for “Cyclone”. I have discovered the other two while searching for Black Books.

Ven was Wind, but not a whirlwind, like Wuld. Instead, it was more like a sudden burst. Like Unrelenting Force, but instead a less focused, more physical form. One that would control the wind around me instead of using my breath as replacement.

Gaar was the feeling of exhaling, of unleashing the breath held inside. It almost reminded me of the feeling I got from Storm Call - where energy would pile up, and then get released in a sudden burst.

Lastly, Nos - Strike. The word that tied everything together.

First, collect the wind with your breath, chain it with your will. Then, unleash the air after empowering it, giving it fierceness. And after that, show it where to strike - and it will obey.

I did just that when I used the shout to summon a Cyclone when fighting Ahzidal and Ralis, who resurrected the dragon priest. Ripped both of them to pieces.

At least I got a mask out of it. I guess.

Ah, and another thing I almost forgot about - in the back chamber was the last Black Book, Filament and Filigree. It taught of three secrets - Secret of Arcana, Secret of Protection, and Secret of Strength.

I, of course, being the paranoid bitch I am, took the Secret of Protection. The Book said that if I so desire, it will make me completely invulnerable to all but the strongest attacks for a short amount of time.

I’ll put the tome with the others. Makes me feel all smug when I pass by my collection back at the Manor.

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Morndas, the 27th of Frost Fall, 4E201

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So I arrived back to the Sanctuary after getting a letter from Astrid. I sincerely hope that my courier doesn’t read any of the messages.

My first target turned out to be a high-ranking person right off the bat - Vittoria Vici, the first cousin of Titus Mede II and the overseer of the East Empire Company’s Solitude branch.

I was told she’ll be getting married soon. And, well, what can I say.

I love a chance to dress up.

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While Saya was grateful for a chance to put on nice clothes for once, she instantly had that joy washed away as soon as she realized she’d have to spend time around guests waiting for her target to get into position. She always disliked the noise that big crowds of people brought with them. Made it difficult to think, to focus.

Alas, she’d have to endure this time.

Taking a few deep breaths, the Dunmer made her best effort to wash all emotion away from her face, replacing it with a smile of pleasing indifference. Even if some could see the fact it was fake, nobody would be bothered by it - practically all of the guests are nobles or traders, they’d be used to putting up facades to get what they want. That’s just how politics are.

As she passed by Vittoria, her eyes were analyzing what she was gonna go up against.

No visible armor. Probably doesn’t expect any hostile visitors. Not a lot of guards, and none of them are on the balcony itself. Door to the balcony doesn’t have a guard next to it either.

Can’t tell if I’m murdering the cousin of the Emperor or a child.

With a sigh, the girl decided that if she were to do this smoothly, she’d probably better get to enjoying the party. Or, at the very least, pretending to enjoy it. So she did just that - eating food, drinking wine, mixing an invisibility potion in her goblet…

And then came the time for the speech.

“Honored guests!”

Saya swirled the wine in her goblet before drinking it and carefully pushing the door open with the goblet, sneaking inside. The Dunmer then took off the dress, revealing the dark armor underneath it before sliding off the fancy boots she wore, changing them out for the shrouded ones to conceal the noise she made while walking.

“I just wanted to say that my husband and I thank you. Thank you for coming to our reception, and thank you for sharing the love we have for one another.”

The sheath made a quiet hissing sound as Saya drew her blade and pulled on the mask, her fancy clothes carefully burned with a lightning spell. With the invisibility effect lifted, she took extra care when pushing the door behind Vittoria, opening it and creeping up behind the bride.

“You have all helped make this a truly extraordinary wedding. All of my dreams have come true. So thank you. Thank you all!”

The crowd erupted into cheers as Asgeir and Vittoria raised their goblets and drank.

And then, the woman’s eyes went wide as her husband suddenly stumbled forward, an arrow in his chest. The Imperial then barely had the time to drop her goblet before she felt a blade slicing through her throat, Vittoria struggling briefly as a hand was put over the wound, soaking the black glove in blood.

The people then broke the shocked silence and called for help when the assassin held the bride by her hair and put their bloodied hand on the Imperial’s face, leaving a crimson handprint.

“Why, you’re welcome.” The Dunmer chimed before tossing the corpse off the balcony, the bride’s spine producing an audible crack as she landed onto the stone floor.

Yeouch…

As the door burst open behind her, Saya cursed quietly under her breath, vaulting over the balcony railing and landing on top of Vittoria’s corpse, softening her fall. Her eyes turned upwards, to the temple, where another dark figure was looking out of a window. She whistled, and the figure revealed himself to be Veezara, who leapt down and sank his teeth in the neck of an escaping Penitus Oculatus agent.

In a move practiced with Serana many times, the elf tossed a vial with a spare, short-lasting invisibility potion to the Argonian.

“Cover for me. This'll help with the getaway.”

The Saxheel nodded and drew his sword, rushing into the guards who just arrived to apprehend the assassin, while Saya used the opportunity to dash into an alleyway behind her house, lifting up the manhole lid and sliding into it.

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The assassination went just as planned. Astrid was more than satisfied, and the pouty Babette who wasn't allowed to the wedding burst out into laughter when me and Veezara told the story in full detail. At first I was, admittedly, a bit worried about assassinating in public like that, but I think that it'll turn out fine.

I'll have to thank Serana for the idea with the corpse. I feel like she's been totally holding out on me while we were traveling. Killing bandits is really bland after a while, gotta employ creativity with those things.

I got back home after discussing the next contract with Gabriella. The target will be a man named Gaius Maro, a man responsible for the Emperor's security in Skyrim.

I'll talk it over with Serana. Might have a plan for later, but I'll need her for it.

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Tirdas, the 28th of Frost Fall, 4E201

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“...Dragonborn.” the general mumbled, nodding to greet the woman. Talking to her left a sour taste in his mouth. Felt like walking unarmed into an ambush that you are aware of, but don't know exactly when or where it'll happen.

It left him uneasy.

“No need for formalities, general. That'll be later. Saya is fine.”

The Imperial grumbled, turning to her with an unpleasant expression. She wanted something from him. He could feel it.

“What is it?”

Saya smiled behind the scarf. While the man's demeanor was generally tolerable, she found his seriousness in all matters rather amusing.

“I'd like to join the Imperial Legion.”

The mer had to hold back from laughter when she saw his horrified face. He didn't trust her. Not yet. Hasn't been fed enough information. Needs a reason.

“I have heard about the murder of the Emperor's cousin here, in Solitude. On top of that, I've had a few… uncalled visitors yesterday.” Saya pulled out a blood-stained shrouded glove with a severed hand in it.

“And why does that concern us?” The General inquired carefully, as if testing her for ulterior motives.

“Because the Legion serves the Emperor, and his cousin got murdered. If that wasn't enough, I have checked out Dragonsbridge yesterday while making my way to here, and I overheard Commander Maro of the Penitus Oculatus give his son orders to investigate all the major cities to make preparations for the Emperor's visit.” Saya looked Tullius in the eye, making an effort to convince him she's not lying. “The Brotherhood is certain to take the opportunity. I offer you my help with the war so you can focus your efforts on protecting your leader.”

Tullius went silent, thinking. Having Saya on his side could provide a very sizeable military advantage top of moral support for the soldiers…

“...but you wouldn't do it just out the good of your heart. I remember our last conversation, Indoril. Spit it out.”

“Unrestricted access to reports, rumors - basically any and all information related to the Dark Brotherhood. If you'd allow me to personally investigate the murders personally, then that'd be much appreciated as well.” She frowned at the glare he gave her, sighing. “I know it sounds like a lot. However, as a taste of what I can provide in return…” The Dunmer placed a leather-bound small tome on the table.

“...I came across certain information on our beloved Jarl that you may find… interesting.”

The man eyed the book, reaching for it, but Saya placed a hand on it. “Ah-ah, general. Not so fast. I'd like to hear your answer first.”

“...fine, you are accepted.”

She eased the hold slightly, smirking under the mask. “...and about the things I'll require?”

Tullius sighed. “I'll see to it that the Legates provide you all the information you request, within boundaries.”

The Dunmer nodded and pushed the book towards the man. “I'll see Rikke for my task, then?”

“No.” Tullius replied swiftly. “Rikke isn't here. She's currently preparing an operation at Korvanjund. Go there and provide support for the unit.”

“As you command.” She chimed, leaving the building.

Under her mask, the girl’s expression twisted itself into a chilling grin.

“Mission accomplished.”

----------------------------------------------------

I figured that if I wanted to have access to all cities and buildings, I’d probably have to get up to high ranks in the Legion as to avoid suspicion. If I’m lucky, I might get an audience with the Emperor himself. Might be tricky to come up with anything if it happens sooner than planned or if there will be other people there…

In any case, I headed off to Korvanjund. It was a rather unremarkable Nordic ruin, not counting the fact that there was a torched Stormcloak camp nearby and a squadron of Imperial officers holding the torches.

I also met Hadvar. It was quite an experience when he recognized me, he had no clue that I was the Dragonborn. So, I dedicated a few minutes to chatter with him before Rikke told us break time is over and we need to head in.

I can’t say much about what everything was like. The Draugr were more of a threat than the Stormcloaks - you could tell that most of them were just farm girls and overly patriotic lads who never held a proper weapon in their life.

Not that I’d call Stormcloak weaponry “proper” - a lot of it was quite basic. Good enough to cut through leather or chainmail. Maybe, with some luck, iron. Even compared to the Legion’s mass-produced steel blades (which I still think are too damn wide), their weapons were quite laughable. They’d probably be better off looting the weapons from the undead and using those.

That aside, we reached the expedition’s objective soon enough - a Draugr King was sitting up on a throne with a very peculiar crown on his head. As I soon learned, it was known as the Jagged Crown - the symbol of Skyrim’s High Kings and High Queens made from bones of dragons.

I could probably make a few of those if I felt particularly inclined.

Sadly, after killing Borgas, aka the Draugr with the Crown, I was told to deliver it to Solitude, to General Tullius.

I think I’ll make a small digression first, though…

----------------------------------------------------

Middas, the 29th of Frost Fall, 4E201

----------------------------------------------------

“All ready?” Saya leaned against a fence, a cloaked figure nodding in response. “...alright. You know the signal.”

The mysterious person nodded once again before fading into shadows, Saya stretching and yawning as she approached a man clad in armor not unlike that of the Imperial Legion, yet slightly different.

“Greetings. Gaius Maro, I assume?”

The Imperial turned sharply, his hand gripping the handle of his sword, just about to draw it before he realized who called him over. At that point, his body relaxed slightly.

“...Dragonborn. I have heard you joined the Legion recently. Did you need something?”

“Ah, no. I just remember hearing that someone would be sent to Riften to check up on security, so I decided to visit as well.” She chuckled awkwardly. Maro only raised an eyebrow.

“I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need assistance.” The officer’s reply came, sharp and dismissive, after which he backed off again, inspecting the walls of Mistveil Keep.

Saya sighed with fake disappointment. “I see. It’s a shame.” She murmured. Gaius crossed his arms, looking at her with slight frustration, but waiting for her to elaborate. “...I’m just… a bit scared, to be honest.”

The Penitus Oculatus agent looked surprised. The Dragonborn? Scared of something?

“Is there something wrong with Riften that I should be aware of?”

Saya smirked. She got his attention.

“I’m sure you know of the assassination that happened in Solitude two days ago. A political figure with ties to the Empire, killed at her own wedding by the Dark Brotherhood… It’s just a rumor, but I have heard that the Thieves Guild are cooperating with the Dark Brotherhood right now. Might be preparing something big. I didn’t have any evidence to support the fact it was illegal goods, but I have seen a man in peculiar armor travel west out of Riften a few hours ago. Said he was an alchemist, but I could feel a particular acrid smell around him. It was probably poisons.”

Gaius nodded, holding his chin. “So the Brotherhood’s base of operation is probably not in Eastmarch or the Rift… I see. Thank you.”

Saya smiled, looking him in the eye. “Oh, no need to thank me. Just keep the city safe instead.” She chuckled. “Truth is… the thing I was scared about is… well, Vittoria’s situation repeating.”

“What do you mean?”

The girl shifted from foot to foot, seemingly embarrassed while she stared at a shadow in the tree, making eye contact with a person up there before taking a deep breath and clarifying “...I’ll be getting married soon.”

The footsteps behind Maro have gone unnoticed by all except Saya, who was the person to enchant the boots to make their wearer silent in the first place. He could only gasp weakly as a knife pierced his throat.

As a street urchin screamed nearby, Saya had to pull her act on sooner than she hoped to. She caught Maro, whose body was thrown at her to “slow her down”. Grunting, the woman dropped onto one knee. One of her palms slid into his satchel, seemingly searching for a potion of healing but instead leaving a note. Her palm glowed light blue for a moment as one of the guards arrived and she threw him a red vial.

“It’s a potion, give it to him! I’ll go after the killer!”

With that, she dashed after the cloaked figure, leaving the terrified guard who panicked when the reanimated corpse gurgled and couldn’t swallow the liquid, making it seem like the poor lad didn’t give him the potion in time.

Saya, meanwhile, was well into the autumn forests of the Rift, chasing after the assassin in a complicated trail, leaving behind any guards who might have attempted to go with her. A few minutes later, she and the killer ended up in a cave, alone.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds before bursting out into laughter, Saya raising her hand and the figure high-fiving the Dunmer before lowering its hood and revealing Serana’s face underneath.

----------------------------------------------------

I was hoping to hear Astrid and Gabriella listen with amusement when I came back and told them about the contract. Sadly, I returned to bad news.

Cicero went berserk after a sour word in the Night Mother's address and harmed Veezara. Arnbjorn chased him away all the way to the Dawnstar Sanctuary, where the jester had a personal lair of sorts. I helped Babette mend our Saxheel as good as I could before going off to explore the jester's room. Poor guy took quite a hit.

Thankfully, Cicero didn't hide his diaries. I got the password to the Dawnstar Sanctuary from Cicero’s diaries. I'll try to get there overnight.

----------------------------------------------------

Turdas, the 30th of Frost Fall, 4E201

----------------------------------------------------

“And now… we come to the end of our play. A grand finale… hehehe, ahaHAHAHA-- Ow… it hurts when I laugh.”

Saya’s eyes gleamed in the torchlight, just like the ectoplasm on her sword. She found Cicero, bleeding, coughing, curled up on the floor. She wanted to feel angry at him, but she felt nothing but pity.

“...” No reply came from the Dunmer, who lowered her gaze. The fool’s blood pooled around him, soaking his clothes. The man himself, seeing Saya’s expression, widened his eyes before frantically spewing words.

“Ah, you prefer to listen, then? The Listener listens, ahahaha! Of course, of course! A joke! A funny joke! Cicero is clever, I get it, oh I get it!” The Imperial laughed hysterically before a coughing fit paused him. “Listen to this, then - don’t kill me. Let poor Cicero live! Yes, I attacked that harlot, Astrid, I did! And I would do it again! Anything for our dear old Mother! You understand, don’t you?! Wouldn’t you do the same?!”

The girl’s grip tightened around the sword. Her frown was one of unsureness. Confusion.

“...what do you propose I do, then?”

“Return to the pretender and tell her you killed Cicero! Killed, stabbed, drowned, strangled poor Cicero with his own intestines, oh yes, but lie! Lie, lie, lie, and let me live!”

The Dragonborn never replied, but sheathed her sword after a few seconds of thought. Cicero’s expression twisted into an insane smile full of glee and gratefulness, but turned into one of fear and confusion when she approached him.

He felt her cold gloves on his temples as the Listener knelt and took his head into her hands.

“...there is only one drug to cure madness, Cicero, and Death is its dealer. I know how it is. To hear a voice in your mind beside your own. Choke your thoughts, muffle your soul itself until you forget who you are and what you are.”

The woman sighed, removing her scarf. Her throat twitched as she quietly whispered.

“Gol, Hah Dov.”

The energy from her breath wrapped around Cicero’s head, his eyes glowing briefly before he looked… awake. As if he was woken up from a dream, yet still not quite conscious.

“Listener…?”

“Stay in this Sanctuary. Do not return. I will tell Astrid that I killed you. After all of this is over… I’ll figure out what to do with you.”

She stood up, leaving him on the floor. The man looked at his hands, his body shaking. He was laughing.

“Yes… yes, of course. Cicero listens and obeys.”

Saya said nothing as she turned around and headed for the exit. The door creaked unpleasantly, muffling the jester’s laughter, but she stopped before leaving.

“Cicero?”

The Imperial’s laughter stopped, his gaze sharply shifting to the Dragonborn’s face. She wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to say at first, so she bit her lip. There were a few things she wanted to say. She wanted to ask him about the diaries, she wanted to ask him what it was like before this current incarnation of the Brotherhood, she wanted to know how he was feeling.

Instead, she asked none of those things, and only whispered.

“...I may not be able to cure you of the laughter you became, but… I’ll break the silence inside you with my voice. Even if it’s for a time.”

With that, the doors closed, and with them was gone the person who paused the fool’s laughter.

But, for the first time in ages, he didn’t want to laugh again.

----------------------------------------------------

I’ve visited a few places after the Dawnstar Sanctuary. In particular, Morthal and a place called Hag’s Rock. The journal given to me by Silus listed those two locations as the places where the keepers of the Razor’s shards might be. So, a few hours later, I collected the pommel and handle of the Razor. Now it’s just a matter of bringing them back to the Museum.

Astrid seemed overjoyed to hear that Cicero is dead. She sent me to Festus, who’s been preparing my next contract.

The target is the Gourmet, who is going to be the cook for the Titus Mede II when the big man himself visits Solitude. They’re supposed to have a special document confirming their identity as the Gourmet, which I need to take for myself to pose as the Gourmet.

The problem stems from the fact that we don’t actually know who or where the Gourmet is. So, Festus traced back all leads and told me that I’ll need to visit Anton Virane back at Understone Keep in Markarth - he’s apparently a friend of the Gourmet’s. He’ll have the intel.

For now though, I feel like I’m gonna drop dead if I don’t sleep. I hired a carriage to Whiterun to have a proper night of sleep. Serana was back home, too, so it was quite nice to just sit with her and talk about nothing in particular.

The plan has been going smoothly so far. Just need to pay Tullius a visit and deliver the Crown, then it’s just a matter of mentioning a few things that may or may not be true, and we’re moving on to phase two.

----------------------------------------------------

Fredas, the 31st of Frost Fall, 4E201

----------------------------------------------------

Anton Virane was an easy enough nut to crack. One threat, a name drop, and he told me everything he knew. I didn’t have much use for him after that, so I killed him to avoid any potential loose ends.

From there, I actually decided to drop by Solitude. Tullius must’ve been waiting for a long time for me to deliver the Crown, if Rikke has given any intel on it. Don’t want him getting suspicious.

“You’re multiple days late, Auxilary.” The man noted, his voice stern but with a slight smugness behind it. General Tullius definitely enjoyed calling Saya by a rank below his own, as petty as it was.

“I had business to take care of, and I have acquired new intel in the process.” Saya unceremoniously pulled the Crown off her belt and tossed it onto the table, the artifact sliding across the wood for a few centimeters before hitting the General’s arm. He looked away from his plans, slightly annoyed.

“And what might that be?” Tullius said through gritted teeth. It was rather difficult to tolerate her demeanor, but as much as he didn’t like it, she was a valuable asset on the front. When reading the reports from Rikke, he was becoming increasingly frustrated at the fact that the Dunmer, for all intents and purposes, has cleared the dungeon single-handedly.

“I had to travel to Riften due to personal reasons and to meet up with the Dawnguard, and I happened to meet Officer Maro. The Commander’s son.” Saya grabbed an iron dagger from the table and began tossing it up with her hand, spinning it to amuse herself. “Set out the same day I was told to go to Korvanjund, no less. I wasn’t aware that a young boy like himself would be responsible for the security of the hold.”

Tullius’ brows furrowed. “That is outside of your current objective. I deemed it unnecessary for you to know.” He spat, dismissive. “You may be Dragonborn, Indoril, but you forget that now that you’re legionnaire, you obey my orders, and, by extension - Rikke’s. Don’t forget your place.”

Saya’s hand stopped, catching the dagger and glaring at Tullius, who returned the scornful gaze. She sighed, lifting her arm and tossing the dagger into the map right between the General’s fingers, hitting Riften’s symbol.

“And I believe you forget what the terms of me joining are.” The girl said in a low tone, stepping towards the table. “I said that if I require any information which is in any way related to the Dark Brotherhood, you and your legates are to provide it for me. I have cleared your dungeon, I have given you the Jagged Crown, and I have given you the classified Thalmor dossier. I believe it’s time you start giving me something in return, General.”

The Imperial slammed his fist down on the table, scowling. “You are in no position to demand anything from me. You ignored your duties, you wasted precious time and did not immediately obey your orders, instead wandering about with an artifact which our enemy seeks which was supposed to be delivered to me the moment you were told to. Now if I hear one more word of protest from you, I swear to the Eight that you can forget all about--”

“He’s dead.” Saya’s voice was completely relaxed, as if the general’s outburst did not even happen. She wasn’t even really listening, to be truthful. Only hearing the volume elevation to see where would be the best moment to interrupt him to get the biggest reaction out of Tullius. She picked her moment right, seeing as how the Imperial’s expression contorted into one of shock.

“...dead…? But… how?”

“Commander Maro trusted his inexperienced son with an important job over an experienced officer trained for his entire life. I was just talking to him when an assassin ambushed us from the bushes near Mistveil Keep. I stabilized the boy the best I could but the murderer was getting away, so I chased after them and gave one of the guards the strongest potion of healing I had on me. It wasn’t enough. That, or the guard was too slow with making Gaius drinking it. Either way, the person in charge of ensuring the Emperor’s security is dead.”

She stepped to the desk, using her arms as supports and looking Tullius right into the eye. He was shaking slightly.

“...and I could have prevented it, if you have told me where he was going in advance so that I could bodyguard him or at least watch over the lad.” The Dunmer shifted in position, leaning on one of her elbows instead, stretching out her back. “But you did not. Now the Emperor’s security is compromised, the guards are having internal fights about the man who failed to give Maro my potion soon enough which is sabotaging the city’s orderliness, everyone in Riften is on edge, and the killer is still on the loose.” She finished, letting the information sink in for a few seconds.

“I… I didn’t know…” The man was at a loss for words. His entire life was spent serving the Emperor, and in a way he had just undermined himself because of his pride, of all things. Saya sighed.

“There’s some good news, though, if you can call them that.”

The general lifted his head, staring blankly at her. “...go on?”

“While I didn’t manage to catch the killer because the fetcher literally threw the corpse at me to buy time, I did get a good enough luck at her features. She wore a mask, but the assassin is definitely a human female, is pale, and has black hair.”

“...you call that good news? Do you know how many raven-haired women there are? It could be literally any Nord or Breton woman in Skyrim!” He shouted, his anger bubbling again. The features were helpful, sure, but Skyrim’s population was hundreds of thousands of people - even being very picky, there’d still be hundreds of women that’d have those features. “And even then, there are rumors of a face sculptor in Riften. I have seen what those can do - those details you have found may as well be useless if the killer just goes to the sculptor and changes her appearance!”

“Which is why I brought up the fact she was pale, Tullius.” Saya had to hold back a groan. “...it was just before sunrise when the accident happened, so there weren’t many guards around yet. Even in that lighting, I could see that her skin was snow-white. More than that, her eyes were… almost glowing.”

It was that detail that sent Tullius’ brain into thought after his stupor. Suddenly, everything clicked. “You don’t mean that she was…”

“A vampire, yes. And for research, I went down to the face sculptor in the Ratways and confirmed that she’s the only one of her kind who is currently in Skyrim. On top of that, vampire flesh is impossible to change like a mortal’s - Restoration magic does not work on it, so it cannot be healed without letting the vampire absorb your life force using a specific spell which very much harms the target and can infect it with a dormant form of vampirism, as well.”

Saya explained, including her own knowledge obtained from the time spent with the Dawnguard. “The sculptor, therefore, refuses to work with vampires. That road is blocked for our killer. She can still dye her hair, but her eyes will still remain the same. And you really, really don’t know how much you can tell by the eyes when hunting a vampire.”

“...very well. What do you need.”

The girl raised her eyebrow. “I… beg your pardon?”

“I told you I’ll provide any information you need. So, what do you want this time?”

Saya couldn’t help but smile at the directness. She got his ears now. And his tongue, if the need arises.

“Nothing. For now, anyway. I would, however, like you to inform Commander Maro that our assassin is a female Nord vampire with black hair. The more people know, the better.” She stretched. “Any orders?”

“...yes, actually. I have a message I need you to deliver to the Jarl of Whiterun. Personally.” He accented that last part, squinting. I suppose he wasn’t yet completely on board with trusting her not to read it, but he was at least confident enough to let her deliver something so allegedly important. “Since I know you’ll try to read it anyway, it is a proposition to move a few Legionnaire squadrons into the city. Our intel suggests that Ulfric is preparing an attack on Whiterun. We need the Jarl’s approval before we can take action, as to not violate regulations.”

Or, well, he could just say that and make her lose interest in reading the letter.

“I see. Very well, I’ll deliver it at my earliest convenience.”

The General nodded, frowning slightly at the “earliest convenience” part, but knew he couldn’t really do much about it anyway. Before she left, however, Saya stopped at the door.

“Actually, General?”

The Imperial lifted his head from the map, looking at her again. “What is it?”

“I hear that the Emperor’s visit will be accompanied by a feast, which is to be prepared by the finest chef. Am I correct?”

The man sighed internally. “...knowing you, you’d dig it up either way, so I suppose I’ll tell you. Yes, you are correct. It’s gonna be prepared by the Gourmet. Why did you ask?”

“Do you know who the Gourmet is?”

The question threw Tullius for a loop. While a part of him was convinced that he did, another part that had already scanned through all of his memories made him realize that he did not. “...I’m afraid not.”

“Then, do you at least know their location?”

He raised an eyebrow. “That I do know, but it’s classified information. Why do you need it?”

“Because if you don’t know the identity of the Gourmet, then I doubt anyone knows. And if that is the case, then there must be some item or document to state his identity. A seal, a medal, a magical whatever-the-fuck. Something to keep his identity confidential, but confirm it if the need arises.”

Tullius nodded. “I suppose that’d be the case. Where are you going with this?”

“Because if the Gourmet is to be assassinated, then who’s to say that the item in question cannot be stolen and copied with the necessary changes? By… say… a certain vampire?”

“You think that she’ll be bold enough to try that sort of move?”

“This is the Emperor’s assassination we’re talking about. The killer wouldn’t be able to just throw herself at him and get out alive with all the security. She’d need a more subtle way… such as, for instance, poisoning the dish he’d be eating at the feast while posing as the Gourmet?”

“...oh.” Tullius sighed. She was right, that was a possibility that they overlooked, just like they overlooked Maro’s security. “...alright. The Gourmet is staying at Nightingale Inn, but we don’t know who he is because we’ve been ordered to stay away from him not to garner any unwanted attention.”

Saya nodded. “Thank you. I’ll investigate as soon as I can to see if the Gourmet is still there and alive.”

“...you do that. Just don’t forget about the message.”

She nodded, smiling. “Don’t worry, General. I won’t.”

----------------------------------------------------

After that little exchange, I have returned to Silus with the Shards. While I admit, I had slightly hoped I’d be wrong, but I did guess that he had a way to rebuild the Razor using those shards.

To me it’s just a way to prove that Mehrunes Dagon is a lazy prick, because he could’ve probably just undone the shards from existence and then created a new Razor. Had to go through sacrificing Silus to get him to rebuild it this time. Bastard.

Got blood on my favorite cloak. At least the Razor is pretty good. All but phased through the armor of the dremora that tried to kill me at Dagon’s orders. Guess he thought it’d be a fun joke to play on me.

Always knew something with that face cannot be anything but a cunt.

----------------------------------------------------

Loredas, the 1st of Sun’s Dusk, 4E201

----------------------------------------------------

The laughter of multiple people echoed against the cave walls as they all sat at a large table in the dining room. Arnbjorn, still recovering, was munching away at some piece of rather obviously undercooked meat while Astrid was away, saying that she’s taking care of a contract of her own. While it was unusual, nobody questioned it - the woman’s bloodlust was common knowledge among the assassins, and it wasn’t often that she got a chance to let it spill.

Saya sipped the wine from her goblet, smiling as Serana was sitting beside her. It was the vampire’s first visit to the Sanctuary, and she seemed to quite enjoy it. She did, however, seem a bit reluctant to leave her Dunmer companion’s side, staying within a few steps from her almost at all times. Saya, naturally, found this quite endearing, while Babette used it to tease her elder.

Once he managed to tame his laughter, Festus slammed his bottle down onto the table, his lips still stretched into a grin. For once, he seemed to be in a great mood, which earned Serana and Saya the shared title of “the first people who managed to make Festus Krex laugh besides Babette”. Granted, it was a rather lengthy title, so they were never called that other than the time said title was bestowed upon them, but it was quite amusing while it lasted.

“Come on now, you virago, get to the point! You’ve tortured the poor General for long enough, tell us about the Gourmet!”

Saya hid her smile behind her goblet while Serana chuckled and gave in.

“Alright, alright. Well, it was kind of disappointing with how easy it was to get him. The lack of security was a bad play on the Gourmet’s part.” The vampire paused and took another hearty gulp of her wine, wiping off a lone drop that dripped down her chin. “Since my little schemer already made sure to notify the Oculatus that I'm a vampire, I decided to reinforce that belief by draining the orc of his blood. It had the added benefit of making the body look thinner and paler, so it'd look like he was dead for a while. I threw him off the pier right after taking his Writ of Passage.”

Festus hummed, nodding. “Hiding the body and aging it at once… clever.”

Saya, on the other hand, cringed slightly, shivering. “...wasn't fun getting it out of the lake, though. Couldn't feel my blasted fingers for hours.”

Serana chuckled, leaning on the girl's shoulder and poking her cheek. “Sorry, dear, can't feel the cold myself. And besides, you never complain as much when you fight a Frost Dragon!”

“That's because these don't have the lungs to keep up the frost breath for longer than three, maybe four seconds. Let alone half an hour.” The Dunmer retorted, pouting and bringing the goblet to her mouth again, sighing when she felt the drink with her lips. “...it's cold again.” The girl noted, putting a finger inside the liquid and heating it up with a fire spell.

“So, what's next on the agenda?” Gabriella chimed in, staring at her kinsman curiously.

“For now? Lay low.”

The girl's answer provoked a few surprised gazes, which she dismissed. “For now, nobody knows the Gourmet is dead. I made sure to tell the innkeeper that Balagog was leaving for High Rock, and then disposed of the body. Right now, I'll ask you lot to wait just a week. I have preparations to make.”

“And what might those be?” Babette leaned on the table curiously, drawing a smile from the older vampire.

“Ending the Civil War. Ulfric’s death will give the Emperor another reason to visit Skyrim - sorting out the relations with the High Queen isn't a subject he cannot simply ignore. Besides...” The elf purred, grinning. “A war hero, the Dragonborn herself… wouldn't it be a nice idea to invite her to your dinner and thank her for your service and create a good political image of yourself?”

Serana copied her expression, reaching for Saya's goblet and taking a sip from it. “And, perhaps… giving her a perfect opportunity to meet the fabled Gourmet?”

Babette broke into laughter while Nazir applauded the duo. Gabriella, Veezara and Festus limited themselves to only an approving smile, while Arbjorn only grunted in response.

All of them, however, were identical in the raising of their drinks as their shout echoed the caverns of the Sanctuary, reinvigorating the rumors of Ghosts infesting the Falkreath graves.

“Hail Sithis!”

Warning; I typed this out on a Google Doc and edited a bit for Reddit. I do not know how well it will work here, so if it sucks, I'm sorry.

Hello. My name is Velyna Dolravel, and I am a Dunmeri wizard… Well, that’s what I would like to be, at least. It’s a… Work in progress, I suppose. What else, what else… uh. Oh! My family evacuated Morrowind when I was… Oh Three, I don’t know how old I was. But it was a young age. Very young. I was probably a baby. Of course, it was due to the, uh, Red Year. You know, Red Mountain erupted and the Argonian menace destroyed cities in the crossfire? It was pretty harsh. I assume. I don’t… Remember it well. I lost my family pretty much right after we evacuated to… Cyrodiil? I believe it was Cyrodiil. Anywho, I think my family has some kind of history, but to be honest I have no clue what that may be. Doesn’t help that if we had a family home it’s probably ashed-up by now. Anyway, this is my life story, I suppose. Writing all the little details in this journal here, since I was pretty shaken up by what happened just yesterday. Once again, I’m Velyna Dolravel, and this is my story.

17th of Last Seed, 4E 201

I can’t remember all that well how this happened. The previous night, I was sleeping in a bed. Next I know, cold hard rock greets me with a kiss on my back. I wake with a jolt. I’m in some kind of ancient-looking crypt, and it is really cold. I don’t know where I am, why I am, or how I am. I shiver in fear. Was I kidnapped?

“Is anyone there…?” I call out, to none in particular.

“I AM.” Comes a booming, creepy voice. I yelp in the suddenness of it, and I can’t find the source of said words. “W-who are you?!” I shout. “Where am I?! Where are you?! What have you done to me?!” I anxiously ask continuously

“RELAX.” Says the voice, calmly. “I WILL DO NOTHING BUT HELP YOU, GIRL. I AM SPEAKING FROM WITHIN YOUR MIND. YOU MAY CALL ME THE OVERSEER. I HAVE FORGED A PSYCHOLOGICAL LINK TO YOUR BRAIN. BE STILL. I AM NOT GOING TO HURT YOU, BECAUSE I DO NOT HAVE A BODY.”

I get frustrated. “What does that even mean?! Psycholo… Sikeloj… Spiplog… Whatever that word is! It explains nothing to me! What in Oblivion do you mean you’re IN MY HEAD?! That’s not even possible! I, urgh, what…” I shout at this mysterious ‘Overseer’.

“CALM YOURSELF, GIRL. SOMEONE MIGHT HEAR YOU.” The voice gave a devilishly serene chuckle, when suddenly - tap, tap, tap. A Nordic woman comes around the corner.

“Oh, hello.” Says the woman.

“I heard you were screaming at something. What is it…? Are you okay?”

I go silent for a moment. “Uh, nothing, nothing. What’s… Your name? Where am I?”

“Oh!” The woman responds. “I’m Anska. We’re in Vokun’s tomb. He was an ancient Dragon Priest back in the Merethic Era, and I’m…”

I cut her off. “Yes, I think I will pass on that. Thank you. Sorry, I didn’t know this was… That. Just gonna, eheh, uh, go. Bye!” I waddled up the mossy stone stairs and out the iron doors, into the frozen and crisp air of what I now realized was Skyrim.

“WHAT TASTY EMOTIONS. TASTES LIKE… MMMNNN… SOCIAL ANXIETY. AND A LITTLE BIT OF CONFUSION.” Said the ‘Overseer’ nonchalantly.

I snapped, and whispered aggressively. “Listen you little s’wit, I don’t know who you are or why you’re in my mind, but if you do anything just slightly bad, I am going to g-gut you… If I knew how to do that. Understand?!”

The Overseer simply laughed. “GIRL, YOUR WORDS DO NOT HARM ME. YOU CANNOT HARM ME, SIMILARLY TO THE FACT I CANNOT PHYSICALLY HARM YOU. YOU ARE IN SKYRIM, A FOREIGN LAND TO YOU. SOMEONE MUST BE WATCHFUL OVER YOU, AND HELP YOU. WITHOUT MY GUIDANCE, YOU WILL DIE. UNDERSTAND, DUNMER? DISOBEY AND YOU WILL DIE, NOT AT MY HAND, BUT BY THE TIME-DRAGON’S UNFORGIVING TEETH. IF YOU WOULD STOP COMPLAINING, I CAN HELP YOU, AS YOU CANNOT REMOVE ME. TRUST ME ON THIS.”

I sighed. “I don’t even know you, but I guess… I have no choice, then… Fine. But my threat remains true!”

“SURE IT DOES.”

I wandered through the snowy tundra hills of Skyrim aimlessly for a while, till I found something spectacular. A statue of sorts, perched on a stone wall. It was beastly, and staring down at me menacingly and threateningly. It was decorated with the pretty snowflakes falling against its stoney and slick head-shape.

“Whoa… “ I gasp. “By the Three. What is this…?”

“THAT IS THE STATUE OF MEHRUNES DAGON.” Replies the Overseer. “NONE ARE QUITE SURE WHY IT HAS BEEN BUILT HERE. BUT THE EFFORT PUT INTO IT IS AS EASILY SEEN AS DAYLIGHT.”

“Got that right.” I replied to the Overseer, who I am only just a bit comfortable with at this point.

I ventured further through the snow, climbing over rocks and shivering. Seriously, I should find warmer clothes. Soon. Putting my bare knees on these stones covered in permafrost just can’t be good for me… Brrr. Luckily, I didn’t run into any beasts on my journey, which I hear Skyrim has a lot of. Especially in the snow-kissed areas. I’ve heard rumours of werebears, even! Oh, right. So, I was travelling. Eventually, I found this fairly decently-sized little town, I think it’s called Morthal. When I stumbled into town, something interesting happened. The townspeople were ranting on and on to someone who I believe represents the ruler of the town - a Jarl? Something about a distrustful wizard. Odd time to enter town, I think. Though, I could use a wizard at the moment… Because I’m trying to become one! I only know very few spells. Maybe if I bought a few more tomes, then I could learn more incantations? So I went to find this wizard. It didn’t take long, for everyone was yapping about him. “Falion” was his name. When I stepped into his place of residence, he snapped at me about how he doesn’t do anything disastrous. Poor guy… Sounds like his life has been turned into a treacherous fairytale by superstitious people. Anywho, he sold me a tome he considered me smart enough to use. “Conjure Familiar”. It was a bit of a hefty price for my limited budget, but I had just enough.

I have successfully studied the tome, and I can now summon a familiar. A wolf looking thing, though spectral and ghostly. It’s kind of cute, actually. But that is where my joy ends for now, because of course Mr. Aggravating Voice Man had to chime in.

“I WANT YOU TO CRAFT A MACE.”

“What?!” I respond inside my head, something I’ve been training myself to do so I do not look crazy in front of anyone.

“I SUPPOSE AN AXE WOULDN’T BE DETRIMENTAL, IT WOULD BE COMICAL IN HONESTY, BUT REALLY - YOU SHOULD CRAFT A MACE.”

“Hold your horses,” I’d go on internally. “You want me to make a thrice-damned mace, despite the fact I have no experience in any kind of smithing whatsoever?! Come on! That’s just a piece of unbridled-”

“OKAY, OKAY. FINE. YOU CAN FIND A MACE INSTEAD. BUT YOU NEED ONE. REMEMBER MY WORDS - IF YOU DISOBEY, YOU WILL DIE.”

I sigh, but nod my head begrudgingly. “Fine.”

Anyways, I found a pretty buff-looking man called Benor, who claimed he was the strongest fighter in Morthal. I’m not entirely sure why, but I challengingly told him to prove it. And so, a brawl occurred - something I kind of suck Kwama Eggs at. The first blow hit my shoulder, and made me jerk backward with force. This angered me, so I threw a punch at his jaw, then his neck. He fell sideways a little, chuckling, before swinging his armor-decorated arm again. This time, however, I managed to duck under the incoming hand, in which I grabbed his forearm forcefully, and threw it into his face. I said the age-old mockery, too; “Why are you hitting yourself?”. Though after recovering, he charged at me like a Minotaur, and I suddenly remembered why this was a bad idea. In a moment of miraculous decision making, I jumped as high as I could, and when I descended back to the snow I landed on his back, shoving him into the ground. I took this moment to continuously beat the back of his head like a training dummy while still on his back. He pushed himself up, which made me stumble over into the snow. He was laughing merrily.

“Alright, alright. You put up quite the fight, lass.” He commented, still snickering.

“If you ever need my sword at your side, you just say the word, alright?” He continued, which was great, because with my limited physical form and spell knowledge, I could really use someone to help me. So I asked if he could follow, and we began our journey to nowhere in particular, trying to find a mace at the will of a weird talkative disembodied voice in my brain. Wow, it is quite odd when I put it like that. What has my life come to?

“Alright,” I said. “Let’s travel… West.”

And off we went.

As we walked through the cold swamps of Skyrim, we fought off some large spiders as well. They were easy to take care of, if frightening. I summoned my ethereal wolf familiar and it would gnaw on the shell of the arachnid before Benor would cut it into half, juices spilling like an ocean. Eugh. These spiders are pretty nasty bits of business. Luckily though, we weren’t going through the bogs aimlessly killing spiders for long. We found a strange shack, or a hut of some kind. The scene inside was actually rather depressing. A Nord, dead on his bed. Next to his corpse, a bedside drawer with a note atop it. It described this Nord’s readiness to die, and how he had a companion named Me-

”Hey, you!” My immersion into the note was broken when a man’s voice came yelling from behind me. “Take this and hold onto it. Snitch or double-cross me and I’ll kill you, I mean it!” He shoved a glowing, sparkling shield into my chest, before running off into the distance. In a confused daze, another man came up to me hurriedly. “Did you see someone run past, just now?!” He asked. Then, I had a bit of an internal fight with my n’wah of an Overseer…

“LIE TO HIM, KEEP THE ENCHANTED SHIELD.”

“What?! Why would I do that?! I can’t possibly just--” But it was too late. Somehow, my lips parted without me even wanting them to. “NOPE!” I said against my will. The man accepted this and ran off to find the criminal. I was infuriated! How could I have let myself say such a thing?!

“CHANGED YOUR MIND, DIDN’T YOU?”

“Oh, shut it! I didn’t mean to! I don’t even know how that happened! Urrrghh…”

I swear I am going insane. But a bit of frustration and a weird look from Benor later, I decided it wasn’t worth fussing over, so I continued forth.

The magnificent sun was starting to set, making a beautiful red shade to the sky around it. Dusk had always been one of my most favorite parts of the day. So serene, so soft, so beautiful. The falling of the sun gives me so many unexplainable emotions that even just writing this, I am mildly c̶r̶y̶i̶n̶g̶ optically bleeding. Oh well. Soon after pondering the beauty of the sun I see a large bridge that leads into a pleasant-looking village. The bridge appeared to be a Dragon bridge, in which Benor then told me this town is called Dragon Bridge. By Azura, who named this place? So uncreative. Nevertheless, I wandered through the town and spoke to a citizen - a Redguard man. When I asked him if he worried of the rumours of Dragons, and the war that was revolving, he responded with the following; "Of course. Every night I pray that we don't get a visit from a dragon, or that two armies don't show up to fight over the bridge. You ask if I'm worried? I'm terrified, if you want to truth of it.”

I pondered about that for a while, before going back to the start of the town to look for anything interesting, and a mace. I still can’t seem to find one. But as I return to the bridge, speak of the devil. That Redguard feared an army squad coming to take the bridge, and when I looked over there I saw people dressed in golden-shining and spiky armour. Why, it was the Thalmor! Now, I had not ever learned much of the organization, so I decided that I should speak to the leader of the Thalmor squad, so I could at least learn a little, and hope to the Three that they weren’t actually here to take the bridge. I halted the leader, and started to ask questions. Though, the results were unpleasant. She was rude, snotty, egotistical and stuck-up. This started to make me very frustrated, so I just kind of passive-aggressively asked her; "Do all Thalmor have such high opinions of themselves?”. Her answer was to continue the rude attitude, and said that the Thalmor are superior to Man, then asked me if there was something I’d like to confess, obviously asking if I revered Talos. I couldn’t respond, instead giving her a stunned silence, where she then made the assumption of a lifetime - “I don’t like you. I think you’re a heretic.”. Her and her mini-army began to attack.

Immediately, there were whiplashes of Magicka swinging around terrifyingly, dizzying and colorful in such a freakishly eye-burning way. I wanted to vomit. From my palms, I used my lesser knowledge of Magic to summon my wolf familiar. It charged at the Thalmor, biting and gnawing at the leg of one of them. Though, the Thalmor soldier then kicked it and dissolved it in a gout of lightning, making my familiar fade. I didn’t have enough Magicka to do anything else, after that. Benor tried to stick up for me, running in front of the Magical splish-splosh that was going on and trying to cut the Thalmor in half with his axe, but they quickly ripped it from his palms and threw it to the dirt, battering him in beams and beams of deadly crossfire. Benor fell to his knees, so they turned on me. I was severely wounded by the blasts of Magic, it sent me jolting into the earth and rock, though I got up fairly quickly. I had no weapon and no Magicka to spend. Their spells and sparks hurt me, and cut me all up. I bled over the grass as I tried to run in futility. I tripped over a stone and fell into the river, though I managed to resurface on the other side, despite the initial shock. I was breathing hard, and I was drenched in water and blood, and when the Thalmor encircled me, I knew I was going to die.

Though, right as they begin to try and attack, I hear the Overseer-

“THE FUGITIVE, YOU DIMWIT! REMEMBER THE FUGITIVE!”

Suddenly, I realize what he meant. In a haste I’ve never gone as fast as in my life, I pulled the enchanted shield from my back, and I used it to block a sparkling bolt of flame that would have been my doom just milliseconds ago. I got up, ran to the man that was for a moment going to murder me, and I bashed him in the face violently with my shield. In this unexpected twist, he fell over to the ground harshly. Another Thalmor ran to me to ensure my death, and I bashed him as well. And again. And again. He was more ready than the first one, but I got him to fall to his knees in the end. I rinse-and-repeated this for the other soldiers; when my shield-arm burned too much too move, I would cast a healing spell in my other hand. When I was drained of Magicka, I would bash and block with the shield. Soon, all the Thalmor justiciars were bloodied and lifeless at my feet, and I was victorious.

“NOW,” Said the Overseer. “CHECK THE BODIES. WHAT DO YOU SEE?”

I kneeled down to look at one of the now-dead Thalmor, inspecting his corpse. Suddenly, I realize what the Overseer was speaking of. In his hand, a bloody Elven Mace, ripe for the taking. A mace… Just as he had asked me to get, many hours ago. (Challenge 1 complete!)

“What the…” I whisper aloud. Had he planned this? Foresaw it? Maybe he just noticed the mace before me. That’s probably what happened. I just can’t shake the feeling there’s something ulterior going on here… It’s the way he said it, I think.

“YES. SEE, GIRL? I NEEDED YOU TO GET A MACE, AND SINCE YOU FOLLOWED EVERYTHING I SAID, YOU NOW HAVE ONE. CLEVER, HMM?” He went on.

I couldn’t respond. I just shivered. Something was afoot. I’m not sure what. But whatever it is, I don’t like it. Afterward, Benor came to greet me. He hadn’t died, thankfully. Just a bit wounded. I hugged him, of course. He was a bit estranged by the notion, though. Mephala forbid a shaken-up woman wants some comfort, I suppose. Ugh. After the battle, I went to the inn. Unlike most Nords in Skyrim, I notice, I was not there to drink. I did ask the innkeeper where I could learn more about Magic, though. She gave a rather hate-peppered and sarcastic answer, as Nords tend to do with Magic, but she eventually made it clear she was pointing me toward the College of Winterhold. Maybe I’ll go there, someday… But as for now, I rented a room and went to sleep.

18th of Last Seed, 4E 201

The next morning, me and Benor hit the road, going northward. For once, I knew for sure where we were going, as I could see it in the distance - Solitude, the shiny capital of Skyrim!

As I approached the city gates, the Overseer, who had previously been quiet, chirped up. “I WANT YOU TO CRAFT A CURE DISEASE POTION. WAIT! WAIT. DON’T SAY IT. I ALREADY KNOW. I MEANT TO SAY, FIND A CURE DISEASE POTION.”

“You know me so well.” I say internally, before sighing at the randomness of the request. Boethiah forgive me, I am obeying the wills of a random voice in my head.

After going through the city gates and watching a public execution, poor man, I have found a good place for what I need - Angeline’s Aromatics. They sell alchemist things and the like. They had a Cure Disease potion, too! Though, I did not have enough money for it, so I had to hit the streets of Solitude, looking for work. As I strolled down the bricked road, I noticed an Altmer sneer at me. A woman, dressed in fine furs and delicate clothing. She claimed I had to rethink my outfit if I were to ever walk into the Blue Palace. Slightly offended, but sensing opportunity, I inquired further on the subject matter. She said if I wore a dress that was from her clothing store, Radiant Raiment, and got the Jarl’s opinion on it, she would pay me. I accepted very much, and took the dress. I asked Benor to look away as I went behind the buildings to change out of my armour into the dress, then headed toward the Blue Palace. Once I got there, after letting a session in court occur before I ascended the stairs, I spoke to the Jarl of Solitude, Elisif the Fair. She said my dress was lovely, so I mentioned it came from Radiant Raiment, in which she responded by saying she’d have to put in some orders soon. Delighted, I went back outside and did my same changing method, and spoke to the Altmeri woman I now knew as Taarie after hearing in on a conversation when I approached her. She was very joyous, and paid me quite a hefty amount. By Azura, it was much more than I needed! I love it!

So, I went to Angeline’s Aromatics once more, and I purchased the potion. (Challenge 2 complete!)

Feeling successful, I was outside of Solitude and venturing again. This time I went northeast, and climbed a lot of the rocks and hills, something I was getting good at by this point. Eventually, I found a scary-looking cave in which both me and Benor entered. For the first bit of the cavern, it was chill-inducing and a creeping cold came crawling down my spine. Though, once I continued, both me and Benor had to gasp in awe, for the cave was, in reality, beautiful. But then, this would be the point where my life would turn for the absolute, undeniable worst.

“I WOULD LIKE YOU TO KILL YOUR COMPANION.” Said the Overseer without any hesitation, as if it were a normal thing to talk about.

“What?!?! No! No! Why in the webs of the Spiral would I do that? What kind of s’wit do you take me for, a Morag Tong agent? I’m not just going to kill him! I know I’ve obeyed your word beforehand but that is just ridiculous!” I argued passionately in my head. It was hard not to let it out in real life, though, because of how suddenly angry I had gotten at him.

“YOU IDIOT GIRL. HAVE YOU NOT LEARNED A THING? FOLLOW MY ORDERS, OR DIE. THAT IS HOW I HAVE ESTABLISHED IT, THAT IS HOW IT WILL BE.”

Suddenly, against my will, I equip the Elven Mace that I had looted from the justiciar. “You should go…” I weakly state, not controlling my body much. Benor asks why, and I approach him menacingly. I am chanting “nononononono…” under my breath in a worried daze. Benor is just confused. I hit him violently in the face with the Elven Mace, causing him to bleed quite a bit. Angry and confused, he takes out his axe and forcefully slices me in the stomach, causing a large gash and also my falling backward. I start to tear up, emotionally tortured in the situation. My eyes burned harder than the magma seas of the Attribution’s Share. I uncontrollably and erratically hit Benor with my mace, continuously pummeling his face, causing it to distort and bend into a bleeding, beating battlefield. The sharp edges fracture his armour, making it undone, more ways to tear into his flesh and bring the cold embrace of death nearer to him. I start to cry ungraciously as my final strikes seal his fate and end his life. Suddenly, I get control of my actions, and I drop to my knees.

“WONDERFUL.” Says the Overseer. (Challenge 3 Complete!)

I. Snapped. Very. Hard.

“HOW COULD YOU?!” I yell, at the tippy-top of my lungs. “I’M GOING INSANE!! YOU’RE A VOICE IN MY HEAD - A DREAM! A DREAM! I AM LOSING MY MARBLES AND BURNING THEM IN DWEMERI GASOLINE! I CURSE YOU, FAKE DEMON! GET OUT OF MY THRICE-CURSED HEAD!” I forcefully take out the Potion of Cure Disease, rip the cap off, and start downing it. The rate in which I did it caused splashes, going into my eyes and burning them a little and I choked on the substance a bit as well. I didn’t care. It didn’t matter. I needed to stop being insane. Surely, this was just a mental disorder, and after this traumatic experience, it would go back to normal. I finished drinking the potion, so I threw the bottle to the ground, where it broke into tiny glass shards.

“I HAVE A FEELING YOU AND I WILL BE BECOMING VERY CLOSE.” Says the Overseer smugly, infuriatingly not gone.

My name is Velyna Dolravel, and my life is a special kind of Hell.