13 - Victoria - The Roots of a Warrior:

Resting until late morning, I finally forced myself to rise. Healing magic may restore broken bones and bind torn flesh, but a dull ache can continue for some time thereafter. No on is quite sure why this occurs, perhaps it is simply the body's memory of the events, or maybe the magic only caters for the visible symptoms of an injury. Magic itself is a violent form of healing, restoring wounds at unnatural speeds. Perhaps the toughness of veterans results from the loss of sensation extensive exposure to healing magic causes. I tried to press this from my mind - but it didn't matter that much anyway; I was no veteran, and it would take years of such punishment before such a state of events could occur.

My mind felt slightly muddled, and not simply from tiredness – and it was then that I remembered my current affliction; 'Witbane'. Perhaps this was also, in part, to blame for my continued fatigue. Either way I wished the condition gone as soon as possible, and made my first stop 'All Things Alchemical' – the alchemy shop across from the mages guild. Here I immediately bought a potion of cure common disease, for the rather elevated price of two hundred and thirty gold; I wanted all my wits about me before I got into selling my stock, and until I was adept in the curative forms of restoration, potions would have to suffice.

While there I asked Falanu whether she could tell me anything regarding the unidentified root, but she to directed me to 'Sinderion', claiming I could find him at the West Weald Inn. Perhaps he was a permanent resident? Bidding Falanu farewell I decided to track him down before I got to the business of selling my gains.

I found Sinderion in the basement of the West Weald Inn, he was an Almter, senior in years, and tall – as is characteristic of all High Elves. The basement appeared to serve as both a bedroom for Sinderion himself, and as a laboratory for his experimentation, for ingredients and alchemy equipment could be found carefully set around the room. I decided not to investigate too closely, fearing I might give him cause for alarm – an alchemists greatest fear is a clumsy stranger ruining their experiments. I was hardly a stranger, to alchemy that is, and neither was I clumsy – but as ever I preferred to hide what knowledge I had, letting others underestimate me.

Presenting him with the root, I carefully studied his face – I was intent on reading him correctly, for I did not want him to lie to me. His reaction was one of surprise, but also of recognition and pleasure; for he claimed this was 'Nirnroot', a rare plant with powerful magical properties. Nothing new there, but I held my temper in check; the respect shown to him by the Alchemists I had asked, and the state of his residence, all suggested that he was extremely knowledgeable – and at last my patience was rewarded.

His first encounter with Nirnroot had apparently been upon buying a rare tome of ancient potions from a traveller, in which it was listed as the key component in what Sinderion referred to as the “ultimate dungeon delver's brew” - which certainly caught my attention. I became a little suspicious at this point however, for my own analysis had revealed only detrimental effects – and hardly mild ones at that. Could he be lying, or perhaps the tome itself was inaccurate? I decided to hold judgement for now, for he seemed genuine, and my alchemy skills had some way to go before I could consider myself unequivocally a master in the field. Further, upon completing his analysis he returned the root to me, so I shall wait and see what transpires upon completing his task.

The task he gave me was to seek out and gather a number of Nirnroot samples, from which he could presumably grow more – for he said the variant was in danger of extinction. For this he would give me a free sample of the potion, and sell me any further potions at a greatly reduced price. I would have attempted to collect more samples for myself even without his request, and so him providing specific pointers regarding where he believed it could be found was very useful. Even if what he said turned out to be true I would still desire to keep a sample for myself to develop into my own poisons, and I hoped that I would find sufficient quantities to provide for both our needs, unless I could somehow replicate what I found. He suggested I investigate Shadeleaf Copse, some distance north-east of here, and with that I left him to his work.

I now entered the general trading shop of Anvil, ran by Gunder. He was pleased to see me, due both to my prior patronage, and doubtless my prior ingratiation. I sold at only a little over half an items true value, for despite my efforts I was yet relatively unskilled at mercantile – how I wished for a good charm spell. Illusion was one of my favourite fields...

The staff itself was sold for four hundred and fifty gold, while the Varla stone achieved a sale price of five hundred and fifty. The remaining items were, when taken individually, no where near as impressive, yet in total my sales took me to four thousand seven hundred; this including the sale of those pathetic scrolls provided for me by the Anvil guild head (which sold for forty five gold, in total), and a batch of thirty nine potions I created on the spot. I felt my skills in that field advancing – soon I suspected I would make a breakthrough, just as I had in conjuration in the ruins of Miscarcand, and perhaps then I could study the Nirnroot in greater depth.

My work here done for now, I exited Skingrad via the east gate, turning now towards the Imperial City - I would postpone my investigation of Shadeleaf Copse until a more opportune time; for now the Arena called to me, along with the acquisition of a valuable steed. The path was steep, winding upwards into the hills. At first I would occasionally pass Imperial patrols, but these became vanishingly rare as I moved further from civilisation – being replaced instead with encounters with highwaymen, bandits, and wolves. None proved a major obstacle, at least in comparison with the challenges the Lich had provided.

Indeed it was the Lich that occupied much of my thoughts for the earlier part of this journey. From the folklore I had heard they were supposed to be intelligent – or at least originally have been, having been created through a dark ceremony of transformation by a powerful and power hungry mage. Perhaps immortality had lain too heavily upon this one, or the ceremony had gone amiss (from what little I knew of such ceremonies, this would not be unusual – even a single flaw can have far reaching consequences) – for the Lich had not stopped to attempt communication. Neither had the ruins themselves seemed like a fitting place for such a being – with no collection of tomes, or even of treasure. What then had drawn the Lich to that dark and lonely place? I rather suspected the answer was with me in my pack; the very stone whose removal had triggered the encounter. I felt the pull of it even now, which required a great deal of willpower to resist; the temptation being to stare into the light until you yourself faded, and were but a shadow. Perhaps such a light had formed an irresistible beacon to the undead Lich, drawing it like a candle draws a moth. Or perhaps my theories were all for nothing, I had little to go on, yet even now I felt the tug of the stone upon my mind. It was dangerous, of that I was certain, too dangerous to carry – yet too dangerous to leave. I shall bear it for now; my will is strong - and I will not be broken.

Reaching the top of the hill, my thoughts were disrupted for a time as I saw the Imperial City looming in the distance. The forest stretched league upon league between us, yet the tower stood tall and in plain sight - visible for miles around. I must find a way to ascend to the peak, for I am sure the view would be incredible, not to mention the sensation.

The path downwards was easier to follow than the ascension, but proved harder to walk, for at every turn I seemed to encounter hostility. Wolves and bandits again tried to take advantage of me, yet now I was also assaulted by Imps – who concealed themselves in bushes besides the path, announcing their presence with bursts of lightning. Wondering at the sudden concentration of the creatures, I soon found the cause; Graystone Cave, a veritable hive of the beasts located just off the path. Deciding it wouldn't hurt to investigate, I pulled aside the tracked wooden door, and ventured into the gloom.

The name was apt to the point of banality, although it occasionally appeared green under the lighting. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, accompanied by a floor the mushrooms and, of course, stalagmites. As might be expected considering the formative process of these two structures, the cave was damp – echoing with the constant dripping of milky water, rich with minerals. Rich with little else however, for upon surveying it I was a great deal less optimistic of finding anything of value here. Nevertheless, with a barely restrained sigh, I began to search the caverns.

After fifteen minutes of searching the inauspicious start had become a dull exercise in covering ground. Besides some scattered coin and bonemeal, the most I had claimed was a rather disgusting mess of Imp Bile, which had congealed into a single lump. The Imps themselves had proved tiresome, and while none had been any real danger to me, their persistent petty bursts of lightning had left my nerves frayed. It was at this point - when I was seriously considering turning back - that I stumbled across a skeleton. This alone was nothing special – for the cave was littered with them – however this particular exemplar of the human frame was accompanied by a light shield, whose enchantment glowed softly in the shadows. Reaching out I placed my hand upon the face of it and concentrated upon a advanced cantrip of identification. The sensation it returned was like nothing I had experienced from an inanimate object before, and I leapt back, startled – for it felt alive, albeit faintly. Summoning illumination with my starlight spell I regarded it carefully; it certainly didn't look alive. Once again I placed my hand upon it, again receiving the same feeling...something familiar.

I laughed, my voice echoing hollowly around the caves, of course, so simple! The enchantment was not of life, but a minor form of reflection – what I had sensed had merely been the mirror of my own life force. That certainly explained the familiarity, and besides simply humouring me, the shield further raised my spirits through the knowledge that the search had not been in vain – I had known equipment of that type sell for over four thousand gold before, and while it was unlikely I could find such a generous buyer, I was certainly looking at a good couple of thousand. It was fortunate that I had found this when I did, for the remainder of the cave contained nothing of note, and I returned to the road; the day now having passed into late evening.

Pressing onwards now without pause – for I was keen to return to the bustle of the Imperial City – I made swift progress. The cave had held little challenge, and my thoughts ranged once more over the events of the past couple of weeks. Although I had been subtle in action and speech, I realised that my magical arsenal was rather limited – predominantly consisting of the conjuration of daggers and undead servants, and the raw application of destructive magic – besides of course from my usage of the spells of light, night eye and detect life. My magic was too overt, too loud and unabashed – and I yearned for the refined powers of illusion. Opening my copy of the mages guild charter I scanned the guild halls respective entries. It appeared that Cheydinhal specialised in the school of alteration, while it was Chorrol which held favour on conjuration, and Bravil of Illusion. I decided upon purchasing my steed that I would visit these places, and, funds permitting, expand upon my current range of spells. It would also doubtless double as a good way to test my new steed.

I was now approaching the Imperial City, for I began to recognise local landmarks – before finally encountering the drowned ruin where I had found the archer in the lake. Standing upon a tall rock for a time, I admired the moon light reflecting from the pale marble, and the Imperial City standing proud before the mountains in the distance – the reflection from the lake creating the apparition of a mirror city submerged beneath the surface.

Passing the Wawnet Inn - doubtlessly still housing the lady with the wine request – I proceeded swiftly into the city; and there, stopping only to to question a guard regarding the Gray Fox (apparently either a grandiose thief, or a myth), I proceeded directly to the Arena. The sounds of bashing swords and the hiss of arrows greeted me as I entered the Bloodworks; training continued throughout much of the night – but I refused to let that deter me, collapsing at last into the welcoming blankets of a vacant bed.

The following day was rewarding but bloody, passing swiftly despite my never leaving the Arena, for I had decided to ascend the ranks, and cast aside my current 'Bloodletter' title.

The fights were not easy, but neither were they desperate – for I knew now that I always could fall back upon my Welkyd stones if all went ill. This precaution proved unnecessary however, and ultimately I prevailed without wasting any of the precious stones. The fights were many and varied; I began by fighting a Redgaurd - whom Owyn had warned me was known to be capable of fighting with both a mace and a sword. Perhaps this garnered him some respect from the spectators, but I personally felt it to be a waste; rather than becoming a master with either weapon he was merely competent with either, and competent wasn't good enough. At last his silver mace slipped from his nerveless hands and I walked out of the arena, the cheers of the crowd shadowing me.

All the combatants had one flaw of other which I exploited, a Breton lady proved too weak to survive using combat alone; despite her heavy armour. A dark elf came armed with sword and bow, but, favouring the latter, fell easily to my minion as I provided a continual hail of fire from behind a pillar. This very fight claimed me the rank of 'Myrmidon', yet I continued on, hoping to grasp the coveted title of Warrior before the day was up.

A Bosner with an enchanted blade was my next opponent, however it transpired that his reach was too short, and he too weak – for he fell to my attacks within moments, and I surprised Owyn with my swift return; him thinking that I had perhaps forgotten something. My next foe was a female high elf; where before I had been concerned by the enchanted blade, now I feared that I would finally have magic used against me. Astonishingly, this was not to be, for the Altmer appeared to have snubbed her races magical advantages. This was fine by me, for while she could ignore her strengths, I would not ignore her weaknesses – and high elves are famous for their frailty to elemental magic. If any in the audience had not known this useful fact before now, they did by the time I had left the Arena – each of my spells having exacted a devastating toll upon the Altmers health, until she finally fell to the floor, and moved no more.

Realising at this point that I need only win one final fight to claim the rank of Warrior, I approached Owyn to arrange the final match of the day. The defeat of the Altmer had put him in high spirits, yet he cautioned me to be careful – for I was facing a heavily armoured Orc wielding an Axe, not something to be taken lightly.

The fight lasted longer than any prior matches, however this was due more to the Orcs natural resistance to magic rather than any particular difficulties I faced, for I used my speed to great advantage, avoiding the devastating swings of his Axe, until at last he fell before me.

Returning to the Bloodworks, Oywn awarded me my title, and two hundred and fifty gold – before I returned to my bed. While I had barely moved further than thirty metres from this spot, I had achieved much today. Come the dawn I would sell the shield and any other spare valuables in the city shops, before continuing upon my way to Cheydinhal. As my mind drifted into unconsciousness I considered the irony of the Arena; 'Bloodletter', 'Warrior', and indeed the whole set up seemed to speak only of valour in arms; yet my magic was forging me a path through their ranks. Why did they neglect it as a weapon? Laying my hand upon my pack to secure the stone of Miscarcand, I drifted into an uneasy rest.

12 - Victoria - The Lord of Miscarcand:

My last action before leaving Anvil was to peruse the spells available at the guild, however it appeared that this particular branch specialised in the school of Restoration. I don't dismiss this school, for some of the spells - most notably the spells of absorbation, are both dark and powerful; while the fortify attribute spells can also be most effective if used correctly. Unfortunately however the spell variants on offer here were rather weak, and with no access to spell making facilities – in addition to a rather tight budget – I decided to pass on them for now, pending a return at a later date.

Leaving by the main gate with the intent of beginning my journey, I had returned within less than a minute, for immediately outside the gate and just off the path I had found a most peculiar root. It was a pale blue, and was like nothing I had seen before - or indeed even heard. It was doubtless extremely rare, and I had thus decided to see if the guilds resident alchemist could provide any insight. Unfortunately this was not the case, for although intrigued, the only help that was provided was the suggestion to show the root to 'Sinderion' of Skingrad; happily directly on my path. Departing again I paused next to the stables for a time, studying it intently. In reality I was little more than an advanced apprentice in alchemy, yet I believed that I could read two effects from this root. The first, that it had the power to drain health, and secondly that it had the ability to drain fatigue. I was stunned, surely my masters training should have covered such a reagent, for it was the most effective poisonous substrate that I had yet encountered. I would treasure this in the hope of procuring more at a later date – and intended to study it again in greater depth upon the advancement of my skills.

Walking along the path my thoughts again drifted to my financial situation, what other methods were there to earn money? The obvious approach was to both gather what I could as I walked this route, and to investigate any ruins I saw in search of a healthy return; certainly the Elven ruins had paid well enough. A mounted guard overtook me, greeting me in passing; however he ignored the corpse of the highway cat. Obviously I had been correct in thinking no one would miss a bandit, although I began to wonder how long the body would lie there. Certainly it would soon be in an 'advanced' state that none would wish to approach it. This was not my problem however, hadn't I already done everybody a favour through killing it? Walking past the Khajiit I felt something, something vague...I paused, trying to ascertain what was causing the sensation. A nagging suspicion began to form in my mind. The Khajiit lay there unburied and forgotten, perhaps it was its soul that I felt – for I had a strange affinity with the dead. Then it struck me, I still had nine soul gems, and although all were of a moderately inferior quality, I felt they could likely trap the spirits of most of the creatures or unlife that I would be dealing with in the near future – and they would surely sell for a moderate price, or at least prove useful. I could hardly believe I had overlooked this, and decided that before I reached Skingrad I would attempt to fill the of the gems with unwilling occupants.

The white horses of Anvil had cost four thousand gold, but if the black horses of Cheydinhal were faster then it was unlikely they would cost any less, meaning I must attempt to collect a couple of thousand gold before I reached there. Having left Anvil at a little past mid day, I passed the Brina Cross Inn at two fifteen, and felt I was making good time. There was no point entering, although I suppose the landlord might have been pleased to learn of the death of the murderess – as it would be good for business. It was at this moment that a woman rode past at high speed upon a black horse – likely one of the very breed I was myself considering. It had looked healthy enough, but I had barely had time to notice it before it was upon me, and then passed, leaving me slightly disappointed at not getting a better look. This was of course offset by the knowledge that they could clearly ride like the wind, and would indeed serve me well.

Further along I passed the corpse of Caminadala, whom I had stripped earlier – obviously those battle mages hadn't cared to clear up. Perhaps it was a display designed to reassure the public that justice had been served; although personally I doubted that upon seeing a dead semi naked woman many would realise this had been the murderer who had plagued this road, rather than merely a victim.

Disappointingly I encountered no creatures along the path, besides a pair of shy deer. Their souls would be weak, but that was to an extent irrelevant - they moved too fast for me to cast my soul trap spell upon them, for it required a touch; something I would change as and when I finally gained access to the spell making facilities of the Arcane University.

Now passing the Gotshaw Inn I turned to look towards Kvatch; it remained out of sight, masked by an elevated cliff, however the trees upon the cliff looked dead and bare – was this a symptom of the attack? The answer would have to wait for another day, as I continued onwards feeling I could make Skingrad before the night set in. Unfortunately I had fought nothing more deadly than a particularly stubborn Flax flower thus far, and I could hardly soul trap that, so my gems remained transparent and silent.

It was at this point that I sighted a marble wall in the woods ahead of me to my left – raising the hope that there might be a full Elven ruin just out of sight. The prior ruin had paid well, and so I immediately left the path, heading directly towards the remains.

I was in luck, for although hidden from the road, there was indeed an Elven ruin; it stood gleaming in the late afternoon light. I paused for a time, gazing upon both its enchanting beauty, and attempting to see if any creatures prowled the exterior. A winged statue, hung with creepers, stood in the foreground – and it was behind this that I at last observed movement; a pair of goblins. Deciding that this was the perfect opportunity to get some experience capturing souls – for there was a fair chance that I might not have that luxury in the interior – I readied my spell.

Soul capture is a curious spell, but that can be said for all of the school of Mysticism; it works by enveloping the recipient for a limited duration. If the individual dies while the spell is in effect the spell snatches the soul of the deceased, ripping it from the body and sealing it in the casters soul gem. Such magic was extremely unpopular among the unenlightened public, but the benefits overcome many scruples. A soul that was contained, rather than following its natural path, could be used to power enchanted items – recharging their power, or alternatively it could be bound to an item; enchanting it with what ever magical effects the creators intent, and skill, allowed. The souls of the Goblins would be too weak to form the foundation of a useful enchantment, however they would at least provide additional charge to an already enchanted item, or provide me with some income.

I ran forward, hoping to cover as much of the ground between myself and them as possible, both due to the necessity for physical contact to cast the spell, and as one of the goblins was an archer. I was largely successful in this, and had to dodge only one arrow before I was upon them. Having focussed my mind during my swift advance, I clasped my hand upon the forehead of the Goblin archer, casting the spell of binding upon him. I think perhaps he recognised it, for a look of fear rose in his eyes, yet he did not run – instead notching the next arrow while calling for his friend to help. At least that is what I inferred, the speech of Goblins is not part of my repertoire – if such screeches can indeed be considered speech.

The spell would last only twenty seconds (an additional reason to create an improved variant) and, with his friend approaching, I wasted no time, unleashing wave after wave of crackling lightning upon him. His twitching body fell within seconds, and I could feel my spell come into effect, a strange sensation. As his body twitched for the last time, with the last wave of power passing over him, I felt the soul begin to rise from the body, only to be torn towards me. I wondered idly if souls retained cognitive function before admonishing myself, surely it was so, for did not ghosts occasionally haunt locations? What then could the spirit of the Goblin perceive, trapped as it was inside the now cloudy soul gem - which had acquired a soft glow.

The second Goblin swiftly followed the first, and I continued into the ruins; until at last I came upon the characteristic spiral staircase which would lead to the interior. With no sign of further creatures outside, I approached, the stone door yawning back to reveal the interior...

Entering, the thought cross my mind that I could trap and sell the souls of my own summons, an interesting idea – although it would perhaps be a breach of trust. For the time being at least however this was not necessary; the ruins yielding all manor of undeath.

Creeping down the initial passage, I found myself upon an elevated path; a small cavern below and to my right – and from my vantage point I observed what appeared to be both zombies and skeletons. There seemed little point in waiting and, ignoring the biting cold of the crypt, I raised my bow; sending a shaft into the neck of a zombie below. The undead abruptly raced out of the door, leaving me with the disquieting suspicion that they were coming my way – for undead never flee without the use of specific magic. I did not have long to wait before I was proved correct, the silence broken by the grinding of bone upon stone, heralding their arrival. I had put the time to good use however, retreating to a point where they could only assault me in single file, and having readied a wave of fire – and my bow – I felled one before they had even reached me. From here I summoned my Daedric dagger and alternated between using it and my devastating lightning touch. Having dealt with the majority of them it was clear I would prevail, and I used this opportunity to seal the souls of my foes in many of my remaining soul gems, until at last I stood alone.

I will be more brief regarding the clearing of the upper levels of the ruins, for no particular encounter stood out. Perhaps the main item of note was the advancement of my own abilities, for upon summoning my minion forth I felt I had advanced to a new level of mastery in the school of conjuration.

The ruins transpired to contain life in addition to unlife, for it appeared that the Goblins on the surface had been part of a larger group, who were attempting to pillage the interior. They were largely unsuccessful, and I took the opportunity to pick them off when the chance presented itself – not that this was exactly necessary, as they appeared outmatched by the undead.

The upper levels cleared, I was rather pleased with how things had gone; for I collected more of the valuable Welkyd stones, in addition to a small range of other valuables. However there had been a couple of set backs; most notably my inability to open a number of locks, and a mind stunting disease I contracted in combat with a zombie, which I suspect to be a minor form of 'Witbane'. This should be relatively easy to cure, and the thought of it was wiped from my mind upon pressing upon a stone panel, revealing a previously hidden Varla stone. These were extremely valuable, potentially worth up to one thousand gold, and I immediately began to suspect that I had perhaps missed the stone in the earlier Elven ruin, if they were indeed a common feature. I would have to return there, hopefully before it became repopulated. I was now, as before, confronted by a door etched with a glowing tree, and I knew the sanctum must lie behind...

The sanctum was better defended than the upper regions, but despite this I continued attempting to trap the souls of my foes, until finally the soul of a defeated zombie escaped, signalling that I had no stones left of sufficient power to contain my foes. Looting as I went, I dropped the majority of my arrows in an attempt to carry more treasure, for I held well over a hundred arrows in my quiver – and I seemed to be acquiring them faster than they were being used. Following my advancement in conjuration I decided I would attempt to raise my abilities in the field of destruction, and so the dark caverns were soon lit with the light of fire, and the smell of burning flesh and bone.

The practise did me good, and I continued my search until at last I stumbled across an object that astounded me – a mighty stone that glowed with a fierce, cold light.

I stood before it for a time, transfixed by the sight of it – for it was almost hypnotising. It lit the entire chamber with an eerie glow, coloured an icy blue. Despite a period of study I had no idea what it was, and felt it likely that few would – for it seemed unearthly. I decided there and then that I would not sell this on, for any price I received from a shop keeper would surely undervalue it. I would wait until I came across someone who knew what it was, or until I learned a use for it.

Reaching forward at last I felt a sense of dread envelop me, but I would not stop, and I took the stone for my own. As I held it I felt the icy chill emanating from it, it was fortunate indeed that my hands were gloved, otherwise I would likely have been forced to use telekinesis to avoid contact with it. It was at this moment, as the stone was extinguished from the chamber, that I heard what sounded like a low whisper surrounding me. The ground itself seemed to groan and I stepped back, startled; the sound resulting from a passage opening in the wall. Fear struck my heart for the first time since my departure from the prison, as I beheld the guardian of the stone, and the architect of the trap...

The figure seemed to hover above the ground, a staff clasped in its right hand, which seemed withered. A crown of steel rested upon its head, my attention drawn to its age old face – and the almost unbearable hatred which could be felt. It wore a ragged robe, faded by untold years of age. I knew my foe from rumour and whispered tale – it was a Lich; an undead mage of great power, and utterly deadly.

My reverie was broken as it raised its staff, sending a beam of energy towards me which struck my chest, but I felt no change. Could there be some unseen force working upon me? I did not have the time or capacity to check, for it was at this point that a pair of the figures undead servants approached the plinth upon which I stood from either side, and I began my desperate fight.

Summoning my own minion, I darted behind the cage which had contained the stone – trying to keep it between me and my most deadly foe. From here I began assaulting the weaker pair, yet as the Lich approached I realised I could not afford to be distracted. Rushing forth I laid my hand upon its withered form, sending a storm of power over its skin; yet the very touch seemed to draw my strength, even through my glove, and – my magical resources drained – I raced away, in the hope of escaping through the passages.

Locked! The gates, once open, were now sealed around me; I confess this is the point I felt closest to panic – knowing that the creature would once again be bearing down on me. I had no time to pick the locks, and they were beyond my magical abilities – I turned, feeling despair as I saw the Lich bearing down upon me. Again I advanced upon it, feeling waves of cold strike me again and again from the hovering figure; I felt near collapse, but again succeeded in blasting it with my own powers. I ran on, feeling near death, my powers drained. Charging back to where the stone had stood I beheld the body of my minion, and one of the earlier pair; it seemed one zombie yet lived. I had barely reached this conclusion before I felt a rotten arm clasping my shoulder; I gagged, and, spinning reflexively, attempted to kick out, before retreating to the edge of the elevated plinth. I could see the Lich returning, and, with the last reserves of my power, summoned forth my minion to distract it; while I dived onto the floor below – exhausted and spent.

My ruse seemed to work in as much as the Lich did not immediately follow, but the zombie continued its dogged chase, and would soon be close – leaving me with no where to run. It was at this moment of desperation that I reached for one of the Welkyd stones I had collected, and, holding it aloft, I pierced the barrier with my mind. The shower was as nothing I had felt before; the cold of an icy lake, the bite of a blade, the feeling of triumph following a victory; the sensation was all these things, and more. It was overwhelming, yet I weathered it – and, the stone finally spent, I felt my power return.

I had no time to waste in contemplation at what had just happened, immediately summoning healing magic – melting the ice that coated my body, and breathing warmth into my wheezing lungs. Looking up, the zombie was almost upon me, but I was ready; diving forward I grasped the crown of its rotting head and, ignoring the soft, squelching sensation of its rotting flesh, I forced my raw energy into it – casting it against the far wall, where it moved no more.

I could see no sign of the Lich, and, deciding that I didn't really want to meet it again – for it had stood up to the full force of my magical abilities repeatedly, I ran for the door. The lock was strong, stronger than my spells – and in my frantic hurry I broke many lock picks before finally succeeding. I ascended the passage a little way, panting, before finally getting a hold of myself again – I had to finish this. Returning, I could see no sign, until at last – my way lit by my starlight spell, I found its body cast in the shadows, defeated.

Relief and regret washed over me; for it had been the hand of my minion rather than I that had ultimately ended its unlife – yet surely the vast majority of the damage had been caused by me. Near the body lay its staff, formed of twisted and blackened wood – which I claimed. Examining the enchantment I laughed softly, for I could now see why it had had no effect; it was a spell to disintegrate armour, and I wore none. Such a staff was unlikely to serve me well, however it would fetch a high price. The body of the Lich also held the key to all the locked doors, so my broken picks had been in vain. Gazing upon the empty chamber a word sprang unbidden into my mind, 'Miscarcand'. Intuitively I knew this to be the name of this place, although how I knew this I did not know. I spent my final moments searching the creatures tomb – before finally ascending to the surface.

I had entered in the late evening and it was late evening now; how much time had passed within? I was weary beyond measure, and suspected that I had spent a full day searching the interior. Such was my fatigue that I stumbled towards Skingrad without break, again wishing I had a faster mode of transport.

At last arriving at Skingrad I briefly approached the master of the stables regarding prices; their 'bay' horses were a mere thousand – but I felt confident that I could buy the black horse I wished for with the earnings of this most recent haul. Entering the west gate I dragged myself to the mages guild in the northern section of town, before finally collapsing into a bed, and a dreamless sleep.

11 - Victoria - The Brina Cross Murderess:

My first stop was, of course, the shops, it was now early afternoon and they were yet open. When I say 'all', that means maybe two in this town; and only one of interest - the traders shop in the harbour side district. Idly browsing my cluttered inventory en route, I realised that I had overestimated my fortune, which upon re-examination stood at a mere seventeen hundred gold. I was also beginning to doubt the value of the silver, hoping instead that the mess of ingredients I had collected might amount to something.

I still had the Welkyd stones I had collected from the Elven Ruin a number of days ago, and until now had paid them little thought. Holding one now I concentrated upon it, attempting to deduce what use the glowing stone might have, if any. A sense of raw magic power emanated - yet it felt contained. Closing my eyes and exploring the stone with my magical abilities I realised that with but a mental nudge this containment barrier could be breached - unleashing a flood of magicka into the immediate surroundings. Such a breach would of course render the stone useless thereafter, and I wondered how they had gained their power. Perhaps the barrier acted as a kind of one way filter, with the stones slowly absorbing ambient power from their surroundings, or perhaps they collected the lost energies of spent castings. Such theories were of course entirely hypothetical, for the secret of the stones manufacture had been lost with the departure of their creators. Still, I felt that it was entirely possible that, breaching a stones barrier, I could regain my own spent magical resources in the brief magicka shower. Such might prove extremely handy in situations such as the Arena, which I now had every intention of returning to, and so I decided that these items at least, would not be for sale.

Unfortunately, I had been correct in my estimation of the value of the silver, for upon selling everything I felt I had no need for (including the silver) I held a mere four hundred coin greater than when I had entered. Would the ingredients then provide a better source of income? I decided to make what potions and poisons I could from what I had collected right there and then, garnering some strange looks from the shop keeper as I set up my alchemy equipment upon a nearby bench and upended my pack – showering the floor with all manor of rare and dangerous reagents. I remained there for some time, working continually, until at last I had created the thirty fourth and final potion. The shop keeper had watched me throughout, but had not interfered – it seemed he had received no business that day, and so my eccentric actions could hardly cause him to lose custom. Besides, he surely knew that, judging from the array of source ingredients, many of these potions would practically sell themselves. Despite this I received only a further three hundred and fifty coin for all the created potions, leaving me with slightly under two thousand five hundred; no where near enough to even consider buying that manor.

Walking now upon the shoreline, I gave some thought to my situation. The manor seemed beyond my grasp, and even if I did scrape together enough to cover it I would be doing so to the detriment of my long term advancement. Perhaps I would postpone the purchase until such a time as I had established myself, and gained a source of income. I was also painfully aware from the dull ache in my legs that Anvil was a town on the very periphery of Cyrodiil – and was thus not conveniently located for me to be able to visit it easily considering the distances involved - and the likely need for activities around the capital itself. The more thought I gave, the greater the disadvantages appeared, for walking to and from the Imperial City was a great distance, measured in days. Further, I travelled light, and currently had little in need of permanent storage. I realised now that I could only purchase this residence once I had secured a fast means of transport, and indeed such would be useful as a catalyst for my other activities. With this in mind I decided to pay a visit to the Horse Whisperer Stables, located just outside the main gate.

Upon reaching the stables I approached a Redgaurd, who informed me I should enquire inside the stable regarding buying horses. Judging from the enclosed paddock, white horses appeared to be the variant on offer here. Asking inside I discovered the horses cost four thousand gold, causing my heart to sink. Apparently the white horses are hardier than any other, however I was informed that there was a faster breed; the black horses of Cheydinhal. Personally, I would prefer to purchase the fastest horse around – and had little plans for my steed to become involved in any fighting. Besides, with such speed I doubted that anyone could even touch us. A horse is also a long term investment, and so I did not wish to waste money on an inferior breed. Besides, who wanted a white horse? Not I. Or at least not for that price.

Cheydinhal then would be my next 'port of call', although unlike Anvil it is far from the coast – lying as it does near the borders of the Morrowind district. The distance between here and there is essentially the longest single distance between two town in Cyrodiil, as the cliff racer flys. With this in mind I decided that I could not afford to waste my time here, and, the afternoon already late, entered the Anvil guild hall in search of my next reference to the Arcane Univrsity.

Carhil, the Altmer guild head, did indeed have a task for me which would, upon successful completion, 'earn' me her reference. How I detest leaping through these hoops, yet I have a long way to go before my powers reach their potential, and so I affected a patient expression, nodding in all the right places and doing my best to appear sincere.

The task, such as it was, involved acting as bait to a rogue mage who had been murdering traders travelling along the gold trail. Carahil claimed that I was the perfect choice as, being new, I was 'less likely to be recognised as one of their number' (that being the mages guild), however I think rather it is that as a new member I am considered disposable. If I happened to die then her purposes would still be achieved, for her hidden battle mages would have the murderer revealed to them – and the elitism of the 'Arcane University' would be maintained.

Enquiring further regarding the murders, Carahil revealed that those found dead appeared to have been killed by magical frost, before reluctantly handing over a few scrolls to protect me from elemental cold. Perhaps the miser thought she were doing me a service, but one look at the scrolls revealed their uselessness to me, for they would cut but one tenth of the damage. The wasted time it would take enacting these very wards would likely do more harm than they would prevent, and so I mentally assigned the scrolls to the 'sale' pile, before departing Anvil for the Brina Cross Inn.

It was by now early evening as I walked along the path, the objective being to make myself known as a trader, as well as make contact with the battle mages who would follow me from the shadows, - striding forth in the 'hopeful' event (from my beloved guild heads perspective) of the murderer attempting to assail me.

Spotting a mine off the path, I gave it a brief investigation. It was a strange place, for I encountered no life, or indeed unlife. Yet food lay upon tables and fires still burned. It was perhaps even more unnerving than the occupied caverns I had previously explored. This alone would not have halted my exploration, but the rewards were pitiful, and so having explored the majority of the complex I simply departed, feeling I was wasting my time. At least against foes, no matter how inane, you are gaining experience – here I was simply practising impatience and time wasting.

Returning to the path I continued onwards, only to be interrupted by a Khajiit 'highwaycat', who appeared to be under the delusion that he could intimidate me into paying him – or defeat me if I did not comply. I disappointed him on both counts, shredding him using only my summoned Daedric dagger, for I was in a foul mood. Besides, it made a change from using magic and letting my minions take care of the melee.

I left the corpse without even the dignity of a search (although I suppose some might consider such an action an indignity for the deceased, I personally believe that it implies that I think there is the possibility, however slight, that they have something I could conceivably want – a compliment in my mind) – and before long I sighted the Brina Cross.

The incident with the cat had allowed me to vent my frustrations and I knew I needed to concentrate in the upcoming events, for deliberately making myself a target to a known skilled mage was a little different from getting the drop on people from the shadows. Realising I must play the role of a merchant, I packed my hood, bow and quiver out of sight, before entering the tavern, looking – presumably, something like a merchant.

Entering, I had a brief word with Arielle Jerard, one of my 'protectors' for the coming day, who said she would catch me in private later. From here on I did my best to advertise the fact I was a trader, first to the barkeeper, and later in conversation with a woman named Caminalda – who expressed an interest in my route, although ostensibly affecting fear at taking it herself. She wore a blue dress that I rather liked the look of, as it might allow me to mingle better in certain instances; for although I am fond of my travel stained robes I realise that they are perhaps not appropriate in certain contexts. I suspected she might indeed be the murderer herself, and indeed rather hoped it – for that would be a convenient way to claim her clothes for myself. Wondering idly if I was the only person in Tamriel to think in such practical terms, I ascended to my room, where I discovered Arielle was waiting for me. She had little to say beyond that her and a fellow mage would follow from a distance and aid me if I were assailed; and following her departure I relaxed upon my bed, lying awake for a time before losing consciousness at perhaps three in the morning.

I would be damned if I would hurry up for the others, besides, I'm supposed to be a trader – and presumably an apparently lazy trader would cause my assailant to underestimate me all the more. Therefore I lay in bed comfortably until past nine, when I finally took my leave of the Inn - waving away the concerns and warnings of the Inn keeper with an apparently arrogant disregard. My brief glance around the bar revealed no sign of Caminalda, so perhaps she was still in bed, or had left before me – in which case there was a chance I would see her in due course. Considering she had claimed to be too afraid to leave the Inn yesterday I suppose I could have asked the Inn keeper if she had departed, which would have dispelled any doubts regarding her true identity, but ultimately I decided not to – for one it would ruin the surprise, and beyond that it could damage my whole 'clueless trader' identity.

My two mage protectors stood outside, and while appearing to ignore them (in case I was being watched) I gave the new arrival a glance. He stood larger than Arielle, and was obviously a battle mage – for both Arielle and he were in their full regalia – hardly subtle. Worse, they followed me out of the Inn gate in plain sight of anyone watching, and I was left merely hoping that their incompetence would not ruin what, to me at least, seemed a rather fragile plan. Certainly my attempt at appearing unfamiliar would now be to no avail, if any had indeed watched.

They moved to either side of the path behind the bushes, flanking me as I walked. I had remained un hooded and ostensibly unarmed, and now did my best to ignore any fears that crept into my mind. How would the attack come? Would the first I would know of it be the blast of a paralyzation spell from a hidden grove, or perhaps the mage would simply attempt an immediate coup de gras by unleashing the destructive ice magic which had killed the traders?

Expecting the unexpected, I was nevertheless stumped by the form the attack took. Stumped not by any particular cunning however, but by the blatant stupidity, the unforgivable foolishness, the sheer arrogance of it – for the murderess mage merely jumped into plain view. Not content with losing the element of surprise she further proved her ineptness by engaging me in conversation – saying she was going to kill me, as she had the other traders. She? Yes indeed, the very she whose dress I had so admired at the Inn.

Her presumptuous gloating over, she began back peddling and initiated a spell of summoning, which I matched with my own. Even now I had some thought that surely, surely this arrogance must have some basis in power – yet the summon was no Daedra Lord, nor even a Scamp for that matter, but a humble skeleton, who would be no match for my zombie, or even a spirited peasant for that matter...

My heroic rescuers chose this moment to intervene, having perhaps concluded that the assailant was sufficiently benign as to not even require the distraction I could provide. Caminadala might be known for her elemental cold, but it achieved little here, and ultimately my characteristic bolt of electricity proved her downfall. Maybe I should take up merchant killing? If an idiot such as she could get away with it then it could hardly be that hard. Besides, I felt that I could handle any battle mages who were sent my way – if they were of my 'rescuers' calibre at least.

Claiming the blue dress and matching shoes for myself, I left her body face down in the dirt as I turned back towards Anvil – my hood and bow now back in place. Coming across the cat's corpse on the way back, I amused myself through levitating the battle axe in front of me, before finally leaving it on the way side as I approached Anvil.

Returning to the mages guild, Carahil provided the second of the seven references for the Arcane University. From her words it seemed she underestimated my role in bringing about the completion of this mission, for in reality I could have accomplished it alone, ultimately however being underestimated is perhaps for the best. It's certainly what I'm used to, and I do so like to surprise...

10 - Victoria - To the Coast:

Spending the night at the mages guild, I rose at seven, and, exiting via the west gate - with which I am now rather familiar - I began to follow the south westerly road to Anvil.

I had a long walk ahead of me, for Anvil was a coastal town – but I tried to make the best of it through gathering plants as I went. Before long I noted a mine just off the path, and I decided to investigate. The presence of a bandit outside served as notice that perhaps all was not well, and following her defeat I entered, cautious of any possible dangers.

The mine was riddled with the marauders, however in many ways it was rather dull; at least in comparison to the Elven Ruins I had previously explored. Advancing using my detect life abilities, and when necessary the use of my faithful minion, I swiftly cleared the multi tiered mine of its unwelcome occupants. The only real risks I suffered were from traps which had been laid, for at one point I barely checked my step in time upon sighting a tripwire. Triggering this from a distance with an arrow, I beheld a pile of logs fall where I would have stood.

On a different occasion I was using my minion for cover as we advanced upon an archer, when the blind creature triggered a trap – causing a spiked sphere to swing towards me. Fortunately I was alert, and, realising I had no time to move aside, I swiftly cast a fireball against it; draining much of its inertia.

The mine transpired to be a silver mine, as was evident from the silver nuggets to be found - and ultimately a raw vein of the metal I discovered at the base of the mine. Unfortunately I came across no singularly valuable items in my search, and so took the opportunity to rest a little upon disposing of the occupants.

Returning to the path following my comparatively unrewarding expedition, I decided to proceed directly to Anvil without pause – for the day was passing, and I had yet to make any significant progress.

My journey was relatively uneventful for a time, broken only by the occasional intrusion of a wolf or bandit, who were swiftly dealt with. However upon reaching the branch turning towards Kvatch I beheld an Altmer running down the path. Turning I saw that he was being chased by an Imp, whom I promptly dealt with – however even then I thought it an unexpected encounter.

Returning now to the Altmer, I found him yet in a state of high panic. His name was Hirtel, and he claimed Kvatch was now a smoking ruin – destroyed by a host of Daedra. He would not stay, and fled into the night, leaving me to consider his tale. Could he be believed? It seemed unlikely, yet his panic had appeared genuine. Ultimately I decided that I would investigate the status of Kvatch at some later and more convenient hour, and simply pressed onwards towards Anvil. Here the path twisted around the countryside in a most inefficient manor, and I concluded it would be faster to cut across the open countryside. Short cuts make for long delays, as the saying goes, but not in this case – and standing upon a tall rock I beheld the coastal town in the distance.

Approaching the exterior of the castle, I asked the posted guard whether there were any rumours, and was very interested to hear that one 'Velwyn Benirus' was selling a property cheaply - a manor no less. I suspected there must be a catch of some kind, or simply their definition of 'cheap' differed markedly from my own, however it was certainly worth looking in to. Even if the manor turned out to be a dump I could simply pay for renovation, as and when I had the spare capital.

Entering the town proper, I found it to be a most pleasant location. The breeze blowing in from the coast carried the scent of the sea, while the faint sound of braking waves could be heard. The architecture meanwhile was no less pleasing; large and well spaced, with much artistic decoration.

Moving through the town I spotted the local mages guild and, without pausing to greet those present, I tracked down a bed, and slept for a number of hours; the road had been long and wearying. Upon rising I decided to track down Velwyn, and, asking around, I heard he could likely be found at the Counts Arms.

Entering, I found I had not been mislead, for the young man could be found dining at a table. He appeared most pleased upon hearing of my interest in the property, and said he would sell it for five thousand gold; but I could view my property first if I wished - which could be found opposite the chapel.

Returning the way I had came I beheld the manor; it appeared of a gratifying scale, if a little run down, and I decided that I would indeed have to buy it. The catch would doubtless present itself in time, but I would deal with that as and when it did.

However I could hardly ignore one blatant problem with my plans; I had a mere two thousand gold – and while the sale of my recently acquired silver would perhaps net me a further five hundred or so, I could still only cover half of the asking price. Further, my current plans regarding the mages guild, while likely to pay well in the long term, would yield little in the short. I sat upon a bench opposite my future manor in thought for a time. How could I raise the money swiftly? Perhaps I should return to the Arena and fight for glory now the rewards were greater. This would also serve to make a name for myself, and so seemed perhaps the best course of action. The long road back to the Imperial City beckoned...

09 - Victoria - The Rescue of Erthor:

Using the key I had found upon Glarthir's corpse, I entered his house in search of any items of interest. It was quite quite a large place, with a scattering of books which I took my time to read. 'Brothers of Darkness' caught my eye, and as I had guessed it referred to the Dark Brotherhood, that infamous guild of assassins. Perhaps I should join them? The pay would be good, and the work interesting - my earlier assassin training would likely come in handy. However I had learned from overheard rumour that you were only invited to join having killed an innocent; and so I shall bide my time until a useful opportunity presents itself. Two birds with one stone, so to speak. 'Disaster at Ionith' also proved an interesting read, for although I had heard of that terrible expedition, I had not read the commissioners report - and it was enlightening. The final book of note was the 'Manual of Spellcraft', which confirmed my earlier suspicions; spell making is only available from the Arcane University, and even then only to members of rank. It seems they will not trust the public with such powers. A wise move perhaps, but then any individual with the power to truly utilise such a tool could easily ascend the mages guild ranks, as I would prove to them. I detest resorting to using 'pre-made' spells, and had my mind had not been set upon gaining entry to those halls already, it would have been following learning this information.

Entering Glarthir's cellar I found a selection of foods and drinks, including some 'Surile Brother Wine' - obviously his paranoia had not prevented him drinking the products of one he believed conspired against him. It seemed even his twisted reasoning was warped. Ascending, I found his bed at the top of the house, which was littered with chests, and appeared almost like a store room; however again the locks proved beyond my skills. Deciding I had seen enough I took what gold I could find, perhaps a mere fifty or so. I claimed nothing else, for the items could be traced, and I knew of no fence to whom I could safely sell stolen goods. The gold meanwhile was as any other, and so would not be a problem.

Leaving the building, I spent the remainder of the night at the mages guild, rising at nine in the morning to buy a number of spells from Druja, namely an unsealing spell for 'easy' locks (alas I had yet to encounter a better spell of this kind, as so this must suffice for now) - and a soul trap spell, for I could not forget my heritage. Besides, in time I would surely acquire a staff of power, and if so I would need the souls of the vanquished to fuel its usage.

Leaving via the West Gate I began the journey to Black Flats Cave, which happened to take me through the vineyard from which I had stalked the Surile brother for Glarthir - now deceased. At last I entered the open countryside, walking through the flowers and bushes as the sun warmed my skin. It was pleasant enough, and besides the odd encounter with wolves, and occasional pauses to gather reagents, I made swift progress - arriving at the cave itself before midday.

The cave appeared agreeable enough from the outside, surrounded as it was by flowers and trees; it seemed a perfect place to live in peace – if one desired solitude. What then could have happened to Erthor? Entering the cave, it became a great deal less pleasant, for it was both dark and cavernous. Observing from the shadows I saw what appeared to be an undead zombie shambling in the chamber. My shot caught his attention, and he charged. He, and all his kind in that cave, proved surprisingly resilient, as my later accounts will attest. With him dealt with I continued to use caution; and, due to the darkness, scouted used my spell of Night Eye - which transformed the dark caverns.

Continuing onwards, I moved through cavern after cavern, defeating the deranged zombies as I went. It was a tiring experience, for each stumbling corpse absorbed a great deal of damage before going down. Sneaking down one particular passage, I was distracted by the chamber ahead, and was thus greatly shocked when a zombie - who I had apparently unknowingly crept past - struck me from behind. Such events anger me greatly, for I prefer to be clinical in my methods, and this was clearly an unforgivable oversight. Following the destruction of the zombie my anger impelled me to create a deadly poison, made of Lotus Seeds and Nightshade; yet even as I made it I suspected that poison would have no effect upon the dead. I suppose the knowledge that it was ineffective is useful in itself, for the poison coated arrow appeared to do no additional damage as the next creature lurched towards me, leaving me to dispose of it through more traditional means.

The only other undead encounter of particular note occurred upon finding a pair of zombies at the base of a passage; where, realising I must fight them both simultaneously, I approached carefully, before firing an arrow from the shadows. As they turned I cast fire in their direction, while simultaneously retreating. As they approached I darted forward to deal my electrical touch, before again retreating. My magicka reserves now drained, I summoned my Daedric dagger, and held them at bay with skilled slashes until my powers had returned; whereupon I finished them both in short order with waves of fire.

Moving onward I beheld the silhouette of a figure in the distance, however its stance appeared unlike the previous undead encounters, and so I approached, using my Starlight spell to light my path, and reveal my target.

It was Erthor, who had apparently become trapped by the invading undead; although he did not say how or why they had come. He asked that I lead him to Skingrad, and so we headed back the way I had cleared, until at last the day shone upon us from the entry passage. The open sky was a welcome relief from the oppressive caverns, and the journey back provided little difficulty, although it was now early evening.

Entering via the West Gate through which I had left, I lead Erthor to the mages guild in the northern region of the town. Upon entering he immediately visited the guild head, and, their animated conversation complete, I was given my first reference to the Arcane University. My path is now clear; I shall follow the marked road to the south west, until I arrive at Anvil - and there must secure my next reference, while perhaps again enquiring regarding permanent housing.

08 - Victoria - Dubious Employ:

I left the Inn with a mere three hundred and fifty odd gold, determined to lighten my load, and increase my wealth. As I began to explore the streets I was approached by a wood elf named Glarthir, who apparently wanted to meet me behind the church at midnight, to avoid being seen together. He certainly seems paranoid. however I think I shall meet him; for I feel that if need be I can kill him, but before then I shall milk him for all he is worth...

The day is yet young, and I made the most of it through selling my goods. My first stop was a store run by the trader Gunder, whom I ingratiated myself with, before getting down to the real business of selling; after all, I wanted the best prices. Despite my success, I was getting perhaps half of the items true value, yet it is still an improvement - and I left the store with eight hundred and thirty gold to my name. Exiting the building, I noted both the fighters guild and the mages guild; which I made a mental note to later visit

However my next stop was the alchemists, at which I again 'befriended' the shopkeeper, Falanu Hlallu, before selling my surplus equipment. I then mixed what potions and poisons I could from the ingredients I had collected ,and sold them on, earning me a gratifying amount considering the minimal effort involed; and I departed with one and a half thousand gold.

Assuming that the castle was the most likely place to be responsible for house sales I approached it, an impressive looking structure.

My visit was short however, for I was not allowed to meet the count, for reasons which were not specified. Instead I was told to contact the counts butler; an Orc of all people, by the name of Shum Gro-Yurug'. Returning to the town proper I found him walking in the streets, but despite growing to like me, he still remained reluctant to discuss the housing. Although I hid it well, I found this infuriating. How dare an inane Orc prevent me from having my way!? I shall return in time and solve this dilemma, however for now I shall postpone this task.

Moving then to the mages guild, I chatted briefly with the members, before meeting the head of that branch on the top floor of the building. Her name was Adrienne Berene, and while happy to let me join the guild she would only provide a reference to the Arcane University if I completed a task for her, although she didn't say this in so many words. Her communication is... strange, but be that as it may I am now an Associate in the Mages Guild.

The task is to find 'Erthor', who hadn't been seen for some time. Asking around I discovered that Adrienne, who appears rather absent minded, had sent Erthor away to a cave, and it is there that I shall begin my investigations, when I get around to them. Druja, an Argonian, marked the cave upon my map, so I should have little difficulty getting there. While I was speaking with Druja I bought a basic telekinesis spell, which entertained me a great deal over the next few dull days.

Dull? It transpired that the paranoid wood elf believed he was being followed, and he asked me to stalk those of whom he had suspicions. I must confess I was initially a little curious, and as he was willing to pay me I agreed to trail a woman. Waiting outside her house that morning I was approached by a man, who suggested that I avoid associating with Glarthir. Although I was curt with him at the time, I later began to secretly agree, for the woman transpired to be a simple farmer - making the days 'stalking' extremely monotonous. Upon reporting this to Glarthir he appeared disbelieving, but paid me one hundred and fifty gold all the same, before telling me a new person to follow. The pattern repeated, and this time Glarthir seemed even more suspicious of my words, as I reported the innocence of the second individual. I rather suspect he will consider me to be a spy if I tell him that the last person he has tasked me to follow is innocent.

Innocent he appeared to be, as I followed the third and final man through his days activities; a vineyard owner. Upon returning to Glathir I decided to report that he had indeed been spying upon him, in large part out of interest to see what his reaction would be. His reaction was swift; for he wrote me a note asking me to assassinate the man I had reported as a spy, for which he would pay me one thousand gold. I was tempted by this offer, and ostensibly accepted it; however while I had no moral qualms regarding the murder, I felt that now was not the time to assassinate an innocent - and having seen his daily schedule I feared it would be difficult to kill him without being seen. This decided, I simply reported Glathir to the authorities, who claimed they would 'arrest' him. Some arrest it was, for he was simply hacked down by the blades of the guards; perhaps there was some substance to his paranoia after all?

He lay in a heap upon the floor, but upon searching his body I found little money - although a key to his house was there. Perhaps the thousand is in there, if indeed he ware not simply lying.

All in all this has been a relaxing few days, if a little dull - however my task is clear, I shall attempt to gain my reference to the Arcane University from Adrienne. The Skingrad guild appears to specialise in the magical school of Destruction, and certainly I saw a number of powerful spells for sale there. Too powerful for me to cast at this stage in my development, leaving me all the more eager for the skill and learning that the Arcane University may bring me.

07 - Victoria - The Road to Skingrad:

Although a small ladder behind the main chamber presented a swift route out of the Elven ruins, I again returned to the thrones which had drawn me earlier. Having looked upon them for a time, I approached and seated myself, a sense of elation washing over me. The juxtaposition of my pride contrasting with the ruins around me brought to mind the verse “Look upon my works, ye mighty... and despair” - for doubtless those who had once sat here had considered themselves unassailable. I remained in thought for some time, considering my plans for the future.

Finally I departed the ruins through the ladder, which lead into the forest, slightly off the main path. It was night time again, and heavy with rain. I felt in my element, yet decided to advance swiftly to Skingrad, avoiding any further distractions. I felt that I had spent too long so near the capital, and further my recent explorations had left me with as much treasure as I could carry unaided. I cut back to the road, before turning in the direction of Skingrad.

The journey was relatively uneventful, aside from encountering a guard fighting a bandit slightly off the path. The guard prevailed with ease before remounting his horse, greeting me in passing. At last the silhouette of Skingrad became visible, and as I approached I beheld a tall, torch lit bridge. It appeared a secure location, and I considered that it might be worthwhile establishing a permanent residence here, if a suitable place could be found.

Entering the town, I swiftly tracked down an Inn by the name of the 'West Weald'; a welcome sight after my long journey, for it was now midnight. The landlady seemed pleasant enough, but the price was not – twenty gold for a room! A pittance compared to what I had earned through my exploration perhaps, yet it again caused the thought of a permanent residence to rise to prominence in my mind.

As seemed the style in most Inns, the guest rooms were located at the top of the house, and I swiftly ascended – pausing only to lock the door before collapsing into the bed. I felt I had earned a rest and slept until mid day, the light streaming in through the windows above me.

Deciding that I had recovered sufficiently I departed, with the exploration of Skingrad proper and sale of items in mind – in addition to perhaps tracking down a mages guild, and having a look at any housing for sale...

06 - Victoria - Elven Decline:

The interior was better lit than the Imperial ruins, for a number of glowing stones provided a curious source of illumination. Upon entering I was almost immediately charged by a number of Scamps, and their conjurer creators; leading to a deal of blade and magic work for me, and the usage of my ever faithful minion.

The upper region I had cleared contained a number of items of interest, including two stone thrones, a bed, and a table with a book and a number of alchemy ingredients; including a Deadra heart. Having claimed the book for later reading, and any other items of sufficient value, I felt drawn towards the thrones – as they stood immobile, glinting in the darkness and hinting of power and age immeasurable.

However I felt it would be foolish to approach them while those hostile to me remained in the ruins, and thus proceeded downwards until I came across a door, etched with the glowing carving of a tree. Such skills appeared lost to the world of today, and I gazed upon the carvings for a time, enthralled by their delicacy.

An open cavern yawned behind the stone door, which appeared to be a natural feature of the landscape – and was perhaps the reason the structure had been sited here. I could see two Scamps in the distance, and feeling secure I decided to experiment. The former I decided to use fire against, rather than my preferred electricity. To my surprise the Scamp appeared almost unaffected by the fire, did they have magical immunity? Eventually I tired of this game, and finished the scamp with a burst of lightning, however such information is valuable. The latter Scamp had remained oblivious to these activities; the first thing it knew of my presence was an arrow in its neck. Again however the Scamp appeared ludicrously resistant; but perhaps it simply that I am insufficiently skilled in archery. Either way, the scamp was practically a pincushion by the time it died, and I renewed my appreciation of the lightning touch spell that had served me so well.

Beyond the opposite side of the cavern a door stood, made of a wrought metal of unknown origin. Creeping in the shadows I peered through the gaps and beheld a number of mages, in addition to some of the ubiquitous Scamps – while my detect life spell revealed a number of further foes.

Opening the door, I crept immediately into a dark cornerto my right, where I analysing the room and considering angles of approach while remaining unseen. With such a large group it would likely be suicidal, even for me, to simply announce my presence with a bold charge and generous blasts of destructive magic. None seemed to notice me as I remained there, until at last I decided upon a course of action.

Moving behind a pillar, and out of the view of those in the chamber, I summoned my undead comrade forth; and as he stepped forwards into the light I again withdrew against the wall. This time I continued around the room, skirting the periphery. It didn't take long for the zombies approach to be noted, and he was set upon in short order – a chaotic series of events involving the conjurers running in circles calling their Scamp allies, before attempting to knife my servant. They were disorganised, and I used the distraction fruitfully, approaching the backs of the conjurers when the opportunity presented itself - laying them low with a single touch, and leaving their bodies twitching as I again melted into the shadows. This tactic proved so successful that I was left eventually with a mere two Scamps, still apparently unaware of my presence – while I remained uninjured from the encounters. Throwing caution aside I simply stepped into the light, disposing of them in short order, before standing triumphant – the ruins my own.

Despite my success, my sense of power was diminished slightly upon realising that I could not defeat even the relatively basic locks upon the side rooms – which likely contained the most valuable treasure. Controlling my temper I decided that while in Skingrad I would search out the local mages guild and begin my ascension through the ranks. I needed the spells, power, and resources that only they could provide. I would return here in the future to search those side rooms – but the investigation had certainly not been in vain, for I had acquired more treasure than I could carry. Perhaps a spell of Feather would also prove a useful addition to my arsenal...

05 - Victoria - Misdirection:

The imperial fort cleared, I felt a need both for rest, and to focus my thought upon both what I had learned, and what my future plans were to be. I decided to return to the Warnet Inn, which I had passed on the outward journey. As I walked in the shadows I saw a fire burning above and behind a wall ahead of me. It appeared to move – and I approached stealthily, hugging the wall. Once close I cast a detect life spell to determine what it could be - for I had been unable to resolve this from the brief and distant glimpse. However it turned out both my caution and alarm had been for nothing, for the spell revealed only a torch bearing mounted guard, who greeted me as I passed. I moved onward swiftly, occasionally practised my summon spells, until at last I neared the Inn.

Entering the Inn, I could not initially find anyone besides a guard, and I wished only to get to my rest. Finally I found the landlady, Nerussa, asleep behind the counter. She didn't seem particularly upset to have been woken, and indeed after accepting my money for a room she began discussing her hobby; the collection of wine. Apparently she had an extensive collection, but one rare type eluded her; 'Shadowbanish' wine - which had been created by an alchemist for use by Imperial guards long ago. She asked me to bring her a number of bottles, which could perhaps be found in ruined forts, and I did not deny her - feeling that not only would the money be useful, but it was likely that I would be exploring a number of Imperial ruins as a matter of course irrespective of her request. Finally I ascended to my room, which had a clean but humble layout; and there I rested with my thoughts until dawn.

As the sun rose I was once again keen to be up and doing, and I had indeed decided upon a new course of action. Jauffre could wait for now, for I wished to explore further and gain experience, tools and of course, spells. I also had some suspicion that having met Jauffre, more would be asked of me; for the Amulet of Kings hardly seemed like an item to be given with no strings attached. So it was that I chose to head in the opposite direction in search of Skingrad, although I would take the course at my leisure.

The dawn sun brightened the sky as I began my journey, the road clear and the weather pleasant. I gathered ingredients as I went, until finally I came across some semi-submerged ruins in the distance, and decided to investigate further.

The ruins seemed deserted, yet as I approached the waters edge within them in search of reagents I was startled by the sight of an archer in the water. Apparently the bandit had, for whatever reason, either fallen from the outer regions of the ruins, or had been for a swim. It didn't matter to me, what did was both the amusing nature of the situation, and the fact she had her bow pointed at me. Her accuracy was poor, and I felt it would perhaps be more entertaining to simply stand here in the shallows and allow my undead minion to wade forth into the depths.

The archer now had her attention divided between us both, for what little effect it had, for I doubted she could really be considered a threat even against a single zombie. My minion plodded forth with a gratifying enthusiasm, leaving sparkling ripples in his wake; until finally, having received a number of arrows, he grappled with the woman. She seemed equally inept at melee combat as at her attempts regarding archery, and so the one sided combat lasted barely ten seconds before her brutal end came.

In good spirits I picked some Water Hyacinth and Sacred Lotus from the waters edge, before finally giving in to temptation, and approached the floating corpse of my would be assailant.

Claiming a number of iron arrows and lock picks as my own, I left the cadaver bobbing in the lake, turning back towards the shore. The remaining encounters were equally one sided. Seeing a Redgaurd bandit I again summoned my minion, however he becamedistracted by a Mudcrab; but he was not alone in this - for the Redgaurd also seemed preoccupied with an equally benign crustation, allowing me to boldly approach, and dispose of him with a single touch. Claiming his fur cuirass and iron war hammer I returned to the path and continued onwards, occasionally pausing to dispose of any wolves I encountered, and to claim their pelts for my own usage.

It came to my mind that I was perhaps off course, and after looking at my map I was sure of it; I had taken the wrong path. Although slightly irritating I didn't particularly mind, for as far as my current objectives were concerned the travelling was an end to itself. However as I was about to turn back I caught a glimpse of pale marble in the distance among the woods. Approaching I could see it was an elven ruin, guarded by what appeared to be a number of Scamps and a mage.

The mage transpired to be a conjurer, although such a name was not apt considering his laughable behaviour. Having summoned his minion where it had no chance of approaching me he charged with his dagger - only to be disposed of with a single burst of electricity from my outstretched hand. The scamps fared little better, and with the exterior clear I decided to investigate inside...