26 - Victoria - Rufio's Cursed Rest:

It was in many ways a shame that I had not been informed of Rufio earlier, which would have avoided this backtracking - however it was unlikely this could ever have happened if they had indeed set me this task to force me to return to the crime scene. However, the Inn of Ill Omen is isolated, and I was therefore cautiously optimistic, expecting only a few Imperial Guards at most.

I wished to arrive in the evening, and therefore took my time riding back. Normally I would use such time productively, training... plundering...earning advancement, but in the end I had decided I would avoid any taxing actions. It would not do to return to the Inn ill prepared, and I arrived as the evening set in. The Imperial presence was clear; three brown horses grazed to the side of the path. I would have to take this very carefully.

I had two items of consideration to balance immediately; whether to wear my current robes, which in their dark red would be difficult to spot, but which would, if seen, point towards me as the perpetrator of the crime. Alternatively I could wear some of my other clothing, making myself appear less characteristically 'me', at the expense of increased visibility. In the end I concluded that the dark grey mage robes I possessed would serve as the best compromise – their ubiquity among mages leaving no specific evidence against me. As for the fact they would, if seen, reveal my magical abilities, I felt that could not be helped. If my guess was right, I expected magery was one thing I could not sensibly avoid tonight. With this in mind I again whispered in Shadows ear, he could take care of himself, and with no immediate need of him he would merely act as a cue to my presence.

As he departed I crept against the front wall, pausing to listen. Inside I could hear two guards talking in hushed tones to one another.

“...'m telling you, that's what I saw!” hissed the first, a gruff but worried voice

“Yeah, we got lots of ghosts taking up murder as a vocation...heh heh, you're an idiot” a higher pitched voice for this one, the tone openly scornful. At least they would be easy to tell apart.

The problem lay with the fact they were on the opposite side of the door, and I knew from previous experience that there was no other entry point. The next choice then; whether to kill them, get them to kill each other, or simply create a distraction and sneak past. Killing them by my hand seemed, after some thought, a rash course of action – it would lead to a greatly increased Imperial interest in the case, something that I could do without, no matter how much care I took. The other two options seemed more suitably, and I decided to use both.

Crouched in the shadows to the side of the door, I focussed my mind, summoning forth a lesser spirit. This then would be the distraction. Commanding it with my will, I sent it towards the guardsmen's horses, who seemed to sense it coming. Unsurprisingly, animals typically have a low threshold when confronted with the undead, but this appeared to be an exception, at least in one case. While two horses bolted immediately, the third reared up, a snort of fear and rage accompanying its wild kicking with its forelegs. It might as well have been kicking the air for all the effect it had on the spirit, although to the horses I suspected it felt rather more like kicking a pool of icy water. By the time the spirit lashed out for the final time it was clear the two guardsmen had heard the commotion, the door slamming open as they ran forth. Fortunately the summoning spell expired prior to them actually seeing the ghost (it would be better if they didn't see it vanish in a manor characteristic of a summon spell), as it was the spirit left no trace.

They were panicking a little, glancing nervously into the dim expanses of the forest – however being where I was - in the shade adjacent to a bright light source (the doorway) - there was little chance of them seeing me. It was here that they again, gratifyingly, fulfilled my expectations, calling for their comrade to come out. He came, but as he passed I reached out, brushing my hand upon his back as he passed. He had no time to react before the spell took effect, clouding his mind and leading him to see friend as foe. His pace increased as he ran towards his friends, pulling forth a steel axe from his belt. I don't think either of them realised anything was amiss until the axe buried itself inches deep into the neck of the squeakier guard... if the gruff Imperial had been 'on edge' before, this was enough to cause him to snap. Spinning with his sword, he slashed through the shoulder of his magically deluded friend, and his arm fell upon the ground with a sickening thud. Such cries the three made...two dying, and one seemingly torn by madness, yet I had no time to waste watching, slipping though the front door while they were yet 'distracted'.

Rufio had to be in the basement, there was no other possibility – I had already been elsewhere, and I therefore wasted no time before lowering myself through the trapdoor and into the cellar. I paused to regain my poise, yet as I did so I heard the surviving Imperial charge into the room above, before the clatter of furniture being thrown asunder clamoured through the floor. He appeared to be blocking every opening, including the trap door, presumably in an attempt to protect himself from the 'haunting spirit'. It was clear then that teleportation would be the only suitable manor of exit, as I had suspected all along.

It seemed then that I had nothing to worry about regarding the Imperial above, he would not disturb us. That is, he would not disturb us physically, however my detect life spell made it clear that he had already disturbed Rufio's slumber - the shimmer of his spirit appeared to be standing like a statue besides the bed, from which he was presumably newly risen. Stealth was pointless now, I had no fear for Rufio seeing my face, and I opened the door with a single push, stepping into the room.

He stood silently, facing the doorway, until after a few seconds had passed he spoke, his face apparently vacant of expression.

“They're after me you know...they know what I've done...I...I...why wouldn't they listen? I begged forgiveness...” he trailed off, yet his voice was strange, as one sleep walking. Perhaps he was not truly awake...making this a rather surreal experience.

As I stepped forward he spoke again, his aged voice croaking slightly in the beginnings of fear.

“Did they send you? Why did they...how...I...please don't. Please! I had no other choice...I, there was no way I couldn't!” He was becoming more and more agitated, his wrinkled hands openly trembling. I rather suspected that left alone in such a state he might succumb of natural exhaustion, but that simply made me quicken my pace. Despite the array of options available to me, here and now, my only choice was the golden knife I had been given for this very task. It was the signing of a pact, a door opening for me...a door closing for the old man.

He cringed as I approached, beginning to babble now, a rush of information without order. “I'm the...the last...the others...all dead! And me! Here! Alone! How did...did they find me? He...I don't, how, did he...I must have...”

It was at this point that I reached him; he had backed against the wall, his arms raised in front of his face in a futile gesture of protection, but he had no hope of warding off my blows. I drew the dagger forth from its sheath in a single smooth movement, faster than the eye could see. Rufio's eye that is...but the age wearied eyes of an old man in a dim cellar had offered him little hope from the outset. Unable to see the movement, I slashed around his hands, pulling the edge of the blade across both wrists in a single motion.

He screamed, the shouts echoing and reverberating in the small room, before he began to sway on his feet – his ashen face bearing testament to the blood pooling at his feet, black as ink in the dim lighting. He swayed again, but I made no move, and finally he collapsed sideways, sprawling across the bed. Interestingly the blood loss seemed to have drained away his earlier frantic affect...that or he now had nothing to fear. He appeared to gaze at me with mute fascination, I stepped forward again, with the intent of ending his life, drawing my hood back as I approached. His eyes widened.

“You...you yet live...I...thought that...all died...other than the...ah, played me for..fool...” his voice was a husk of its earlier self, the merest echo of a whisper. It seemed there was no need for me to wound him further.

“Revenge...then...is it...never should have sold Ste...so cold...I feel...ah the ice in my veins...the chill in the hills and the rivers...the cold in the eyes of the Nords” his eyes began to glaze over, but my mind raced. This was completely unexpected, and I needed to hear more. I stepped forward, palm outstretched.

“Then...tell...y...our master...that...dead...I knew this...day...would come..from the moment...he revealed...his surv...that night...he didn't d...he...” Focussing my mind, I cast the strongest spell of healing I possessed into him. I needed to hear more! But it was too late...there was no life in this shell for the spell to reignite, and it merely raced through his body and back into my hand, accompanied by a hollow ache of cold.

I felt the beginnings of a dull headache, but tried to keep my mind clear. Was there anything left to do here? I stepped back into the hall, hearing nothing but the muted sobs of the man above. The deed was done. With a last look back into the room, I pushed the sense of regret from my mind, threw the grey hood over my head, and teleported away. Once again I would be expecting a visit from the Brotherhood...but this time I had questions, serious questions.

25 - Victoria - A Speaker in the Dark:

I had already decided upon my destination. If the rumours had spoken true then I would be 'visited' by an agent of the Dark Brotherhood in the night, and I had therefore chosen a suitable location with some care. The obvious choice – my tower – had the advantage of being isolated, but then again I didn't want an invader disturbing it's privacy. In addition there was also the strong possibility the agent would not be able to enter, possibly eliminating my chance of joining – if the agent lost patience that is. The other immediate option was to rest in one of the many Mages Guild buildings, but I had already decided I wanted to keep my Brotherhood activities as cloaked as possible. There was also the chance that the Brotherhood agent would travel to me under spells of concealment, which might prove ineffective in the presence of so many mages. I did not wish even the slightest possibility of disaster. I therefore chose the Wawnet Inn – it was centrally located, ideal for if I had swift business to attend to following the visit. It was also sited perfectly; both near to a city, but itself slightly isolated. We had little risk of being disturbed.

The ride to the Inn was swift; nothing served to falter Shadows pace – including a hammer wielding Minatour. It was an unexpected encounter, and might have been interesting to engage in, had I not felt that present matters must run their course without interruption. So it was that we arrived at the Wawnet Inn as the new day was dawning. Having previously rested for the prior nights activities, I was yet to tire, and spent the majority of the day training. Finally as the evening again approached I ordered a room, deliberately clearing my mind of any potential risks as I forced myself into a shallow sleep – from what I could judge, I was more at risk from an assassin sent by Raminus than I was of being attacked by the Dark Brotherhood agent, that is, providing I played my cards right.

Barely an hour had passes before I felt a presence approach the building, though nothing could be heard. I remained still, keeping my breathing at the slow, deep breathing characteristic of one asleep. The presence now seemed to melt away – it was likely the agent was using sorcery to veil themself, in addition to employing stealth...but the game was up, forewarned, I simply cast a detect life spell sub-vocally, observing the shimmering spirit of my visitor silently approach the door.

He was good. I could hear nothing of his movements, even as the door opened. He silently approached the bed.

“You sleep rather soundly for a murdere...” he paused, having apparently just noticed that my eyes had been slightly open all along – it was clear he had supernaturally good vision, or a simple spell of night eye. I made no move.

“Oh? Perhaps not then – such fortitude speaks well of your skills...and it is these very skills, and your...how to say...willingness to apply them on a flexible basis...that brings me here”

I made no sound, but he was not thrown off balance, apparently taking that as an invitation to continue. He spoke briefly of the beliefs and structure of the Dark Brotherhood, of their actions, and of their powers; again I did not speak - there was little value in revealing how much I already knew of these things. He finally he came to the point;

“On the Green Road to the north of Bravil...” I already knew what was coming. Interesting... had the location been picked deliberately to force me to return to a known and actively investigated crime scene, or was it a coincidence? I had no way of knowing immediately, but subjectively judged there to be little chance of the latter...I returned my attention to him

“...Inn of Ill Omen. There you will find a man named Rufio. Kill him”

Well the Brotherhood weren't ones to bandy words after all. It seemed the target would be easy, an old man who 'slept his life away'. Pulling forth a golden blade, the agent placed it upon the bed, before casting a spell of invisibility and heading for the door. I made no move to follow, and had indeed said nothing throughout the entire conversation. Again then my path leads me to the Inn of Ill Omen...I wonder if I will find them attempting to exorcise a 'murderer' ghost when I return? It's their last chance to do so...I doubt any will dare tread near the Inn again once I am done with Rufio...

24 - Victoria - Murder:

Despite the hour (merely slightly past midday), my recent activities had tired me greatly – and with my coming plans regarding the Arena I decided to rest, leaving myself with a full day to use - therefore I therefore spent the remainder of the day examining past events. One item of interest was the disproportionate number of Argonians present in the Mage guild branches, particularly at high rank – including Deetsan, Kud-Ei and Teekeeus. Argonians are not typically noted for their native arcane abilities, and I wondered at this relative concentration – could it be an infiltration of the guild ranks, an organised move? Falcar had been displaced by a lizard during my very visit, could Deetsan have planted the evidence against him for me to find, having driven him to distraction? Other apparently ineffective guild heads provided support to this line of thought – Dagail had gone mad in the absence of her 'charm', and I doubted that Kalthar had acted alone. Perhaps he had been instructed to keep her in check, and a fellow Altmer – Hementier, had been afflicted with a charm that 'malfunctioned'. Was there a link? Time will likely tell, but I must examine the possibility.

I slept from the evening, my intent being to rise early, and I also had plans for a coming night...and entry to a certain guild. Again however my dreams seemed unsettled and I woke unrefreshed. Despite this my period of rest had served its purpose and, gathering my Arena raiment from the trunk beside my bed, I utilised the teleportation portal to the Arcane University, before proceeding onward to the Arena. I arrived slightly after nine, the fights having yet to start – it appeared that I would be partaking in the first of the day.

Entering the Bloodworks, I changed from my robes into my raiment, the staff of Apotheosis upon my back. I'm not sure that Owyn has ever exactly approved of my methods in the Arena, preferring a more straightforward and blunt approach to the fights, and I was therefore not surprised as he looked slightly askance upon seeing my staff.

“Got some fireworks planned?” he asked

A rhetorical question - despite his reservations, he was well aware of the effectiveness of my abilities. I merely nodded silently, a cue for him to describe my first fight of the day.

The initial fight transpired to be against a Nordish woman wielding a long sword. Nords are typically resistant to frost based magic, but fortunately the Apotheosis deals multiple forms of elemental damage, and I expected the overall magnitude to maintain power. One problem with castable enchanted items (as opposed to those in continual effect) is that they require recharging, and I had yet to determine the costs of such services – although it was also possible to recharge the staff via the consumption of sealed souls. In addition to testing the staff then, this would also act as an experiment to determine the sustainability of its use - there was the distinct possibility that it might remain a reserve weapon in the near future if costs were prohibitive.

With the fight arranged I ascended to the Arena proper, the crowds yet thin due to the earliness of the hour. Upon seeing me exiting the blue team tunnel, murmurs began to circulate. By now I was a familiar face to many of them, and they could hardly help but notice the staff against my back. I noticed a few rush out of the door, to cast bets perhaps – I wondered what odds I was getting - it is unfortunate that you are not allowed to bet upon yourself. After all, in a fight to the death, who cares about losing your bet money when you yourself have lost your life? The possibility of the latter seemed distant in my mind however, as in a smooth motion I twisted the staff from my back, holding it in both hands; the fight was about to begin.

As the gates fell before us, the Nord began her charge across the Arena floor, but she never reached me. Holding the staff before me I focussed my mind upon it, triggering the release of an overwhelmingly powerful bolt of energy. Overwhelming for her that is, sparks of lightning, waves of flame and crystals of frost all pouring forth in a gale of destructive energy, striking her in the torso. She was thrown back, agony stamped across her features, yet to her credit she stood once again. Yet no sooner was she back on her feet than the second bolt struck, and this time she lay writhing upon the floor. Walking towards her slowly I could hear the chant of the gloating crowd, rejoicing in the violence, calling upon me to end her life. Her skin had been blackened by the fire, while her muscles twitched from the electricity – her wounds would likely have been permanent even if I had let her live, but I did not, and the third bolt left her corpse spread eagled upon the floor, moving no longer. The crowd continued their wild chanting, yet I filtered it out, instead focussing upon the staff – in an attempt to determine how much of its energy these three bolts had consumed. Energy yet burned within it, but judging from the sensation it had been drained by the powerful blasts, I estimated that it had little over ten uses from full charge before it lay empty.

Judging from its effectiveness however, I could use it again in the Arena before a recharge was required, and I therefore returned immediately to Owyn. Paying me the two hundred and fifty gold, he described the next fight – an Altmer sorceress. Now this was interesting, I had of course fought Altmer before in the Arena, but they had cast aside their arcane heritage. This one clearly had not, but then she also must yet possess the Altmer's innate weakness to magicka, and I suspected that the staff of Apotheosis would provide sufficient firepower to defeat her in a magical duel. In fact if she specialised in touch spells then she might not even reach me, assuming she lacked the ability and foresight to cast a three element high magnitude shield spell upon herself – an exceptionally difficult feat. No, likely this fight would prove easier than the last, provided I ended it quickly.

With this in mind I again ascended to the Arena, the roar of the crowd now louder than before. Not only had the Arena filled further, it was now later in the morning, I also suspect that rumour of my recent fight had circulated – besides, it isn't often that a true magical duel takes place in the Arena.

Unfortunately (for the spectators), a true magical duel was not what occurred here. It was brutally one sided, the Altmer scarcely having cast her second spell upon herself (perhaps some minor shield) before the Apotheosis ended her incompetent existence. Again the Altmer weakness to magic had shown itself, a mere two blasts sufficient to finish her. From the sounds of it the crowd were slightly disoriented, for within seconds of the gate falling the 'fight' had ended, and I was standing above her corpse. Still, those who had betted upon me were likely having a good day, as ever.

I had one more fight to complete before I would advance in rank, but before that I felt it was time to recharge my staff. My next fight would be against a warhammer wielding Orc; a race resistant to magic, and it would not do to face her unprepared. Despite the excitement building in the Arena regarding the coming fight, I simply walked back out of the Bloodworks and into the city. Few recognise me as the Victoria of the Arena, at least at first glance and while in my robes, and I was not interrupted.

Unfortunately every shop I visited lacked the service of recharging enchanted items, and I therefore resorted to buying an empty common soul gem at the Mystic Imporium, which cost a few hundred gold. It was by now mid afternoon, and I decided to teleport back to Frostcrag Spire for the night, the Arena fight could wait.

Considering that I had taken part in two Arena matches, the day had left me surprisingly unworn – and I therefore chose to utilise my soul gem immediately. Standing in the main chamber of the tower, I summoned forth a Flame Atronach, and approaching it from the rear, cast soul trap upon it. Interestingly it did not immediately react to the binding magic, but I had no time to pause – I have yet to create a longer duration version, this iteration lasting a mere twenty seconds. Concentrating again, I thrust my open hand against the creature, sending bolts of lightning dancing over it. At last it turned against me, but was overwhelmed before it could get an attack in – I had no need to preserve magicka reserves here in the safety of my home. As its body fell to the ground I felt the spell bind the soul, dragging it into the stone like a strong tide pulling an unwilling swimmer. The stone now sparkled with inner light, a coal of fire burning within it. Although such wards typically continue for many millennia, I had no reason to wait, and lifted forth the staff. Shaping the wards of the stone with my mind, I shattered the rock, driving the soul into the hungry core of the staff. Despite the success of the operation however, the staff yet hungered, and it was now I truly appreciated the extreme demands of using this item. Recharging it would likely not be cheap, the entire soul of the Atronach having provided sufficient power for perhaps three uses of the staff.

Spending the night at the tower, I returned to the Arena the next morning, entering the fighting floor at around ten. By now, through a mixture of impatience and expectancy, the audience for the fight was greater than ever, although Owen mentioned that fights for the rank of Gladiator and above always draw a crowd. There is little to say regarding the fight, beyond that it took four blasts of the staff to finally end the Orcs life. This battle had earned me three hundred gold, but considering that the soul gem had cost that much, and itself provided power for but three uses of the staff, it was clear that the staff would not pay for itself, in the Arena at least.

Having achieved what I had set out to do, I determined to visit the guild halls to enquire as to recharging costs, in addition to picking up any useful spells with my spare change. I visited most of the halls in rapid succession, my teleportation making a mockery of the distances involved. Unfortunately as I soon learned, item recharging was anything but cheap – typically costing two and a half thousand gold, despite the remaining charge in my staff. Clearly I would have to be sparing in the use of the staff, and charge it myself – however it had not been my intent to rely too heavily upon it, for one cannot develop magical skills through a staff in the way that it is possible to via direct magic. During this tour I purchased an enhanced detect life spell, and summon scamp spell (to round off the collection), a weakness to magicka spell (for later use in my own spells), a command human spell, a command creature spell, a turn undead spell, and lastly a summoning spell.

The latter spell occupied my thoughts for some time, it was by far the most powerful and expensive spell I would be purchasing, and with my flame atronach having lost some of its punch by now, I was keen to pick the best summon I could cast. Eventually the decision came down to a choice between that of a Skeleton Champion, and a Faded Wraith - and I finally decided to learn the Wraith spell. Besides the psychological effect of such a creature, I felt the immunity to many attacks and lasting draining attacks of its own would all provide for an excellent minion. As with the staff of Apotheosis, I had already planned a method of testing its effectiveness....my path now lying towards the Inn of Ill Omen, and murder...

As the night began to set in I again teleported back to the Imperial City, and exiting by the main gate, summoned Shadow with a whistle. He came swiftly, and I rode forth into the night.

In all honesty the Inn of Ill Omen just seemed like the perfect place to achieve my murder. It was isolated, and I expected to be able to act without being seen. In addition it simply seemed fitting – and of course I had not forgotten the insult of the ‘room’ I had received. The Inns name would soon be that much more apt…

To reach the Inn I followed the road towards Bravil, heading south of Lake Rumare along the Green Road. The path was quiet, and I easily out paced any who dared chase me. Fortunately I say none bar animals, meaning I had none witness to my passage. As I approached the Inn I slowed Shadow, his footfalls now silent, and I finally leapt forth.

Creeping towards the door, I paused for a time, utilising my new detect life spell to perceive shapes through the wall – it seemed the Inn keeper was alone. I had no worry of being interrupted then, and I crept through the door, the Inn keeper standing to my right, evidently having failed to note my stealthy entry.

I had already decided upon how I would kill him; through the use of my Faded Wraith. Not only would this test the spell, but it would mean that I left no evidence - and indeed I felt that the signs of a ghost might lead many to suspect a haunting and perhaps simply avoid the crime scene.

Crouching in a dark corner, I focussed my mind, calling forth the Wraith. A cold, burning sensation enveloped me, yet I retained my concentration, and finally the spirit rose before me. I had no need to provide verbal instructions, part of the summoning spell binding the creature to my will, and it glided towards the Inn Keeper. He did not see it until it was upon him, the first slash of chilled claws drawing a scream of terror for him as he spun around, his eyes bulging. It was clear that the murder would not be silent then, or at least his side of it wouldn’t be, but it was nevertheless swift. As he grabbed for a hammer, presumably in an attempt at combat (despite the Spirits immunity to normal corporeal weapons) the Wraith slashed again, ending his life in a single rattling breath.

This was the first innocent I had killed in Cyrodiil, but I have no fears regarding the law, for I did not even approach the corpse, instead leaving the Inn immediately. I had some thoughts about planting evidence, but decided against it in the end. The haunting theory might serve me yet. Now I too await a visitor in the night.

23 - Victoria - A Foundation:

A week has passed, with the only intrusion being the howl of the wind against the tower walls. As intended, I had spent the majority of this time training, both using the cantrips I had created at the Arcane University, and through combat against creatures summoned for this very purpose. It has been a major change of schedule, the time of day, or indeed the day itself, scarcely mattering. I feel that I am now more than an equal to my state when first imprisoned, and am indeed now perhaps more skilled in some fields (notably the school on Conjuration). Unfortunately this refers only to my magical abilities, for while I am now more than competent in all fields, I am physically less than I was during my training with the Eidolon cult. This is not particularly surprising, as I had spent the better part of a decade under Steerpike's tutorage, following the murder of my parents – and the icy conditions, peer pressure, training and tasks had refined me to a state beyond that which many would believe possible.

The chill of these northern regions reminds me of those childhood days, stalking the wastes of the Imperial Mining settlement - the Imperials themselves having long since abandoned Solstheim to the elements. I can barely imagine a harsher or more effective environment to develop in than that isolated isle, the hopes of Vvardenfell having fallen in to ash following the death of the Nereverine at the hands of the Dark Brotherhood. Some had suggested King Helseth as the culprit, still others believing it to be the wrath of Almalexia, or the darkest rumour – that the Nerevarine had merely been an Imperial agent, disposed of when no longer useful to his Blade masters. From my perspective however the cause was less relevant than the effect – Vvardenfell had declined into an ash strewn battleground where the Vampire clans fought both openly, and through their mortal vassals – the great houses, while Werewolves further split the community under the command of the legendary Hircine. The archipelago had moulded me into what I am today, and I am thankful for that at least.

Self improvement then had occurred through tutorage under my master, barely restrained sparring with my peers, and tasks assigned. The most recent of such tasks I had received - prior to the Imperial sponsored assault upon our cult – being the acquisition of Vampire dust – which had led to my first magical duel. In light of such events, it is unsurprising that I encountered no particular difficulties undergoing the training that I now assigned myself, which included developing my understanding of destructive magic through casting elemental fire upon myself. Although the damage my training spell renders is light, the pain is very real; with each casting my form is enveloped in flame. It certainly focuses the mind, and carries the secondary benefit of later developing my healing abilities. In comparison, the endurance training I undertook against those I summoned was relatively facile.

The training then progressed smoothly, though I have found that as each magical skills reached parity with its earlier peak, development within it slowed. Perhaps in time I should seek a teacher? However such thought is not for now – my finances being practically non existent.

The tower remained stubborn in the face of my probing curiosity. Clearly it had been designed by a skilled mage, with the purpose of many features – such as the eight circles upon the entrance floor – yet eluding me. The body I had discovered upon the roof meanwhile has suffered no decay in the frozen vault, but I have yet to discover the source of the peculiarities relating to it – it simply seems as if the life was sucked out of it, but how, or by what, I do not know.

Despite the chill and clear air, the atmosphere felt, at times, oppressive. I have abruptly awoken from sleep at times, my pulse racing, yet with no memory of what thoughts or dreams led to such a state of alarm. I wonder what it can be that causes such, if it is not simply the temperature, for my searches have revealed nothing recognisable that could have such an effect – and I myself have been spending the days lightly equipped, holding little beyond the keys to the tower, my robes, the stone of Miscarcand, and a small number of reserve Welkynd stones.

Eventually I concluded that I had spent sufficient time, for now, training alone in Frostcrag Spire. Although the isolated land around the tower appears changeless, I am aware that Cyrodiil does not stand still – and I cannot influence events thus separated. Casting my mind back to my ongoing plans, I decided that I should now direct my efforts towards establishing a foundation in all the guilds of power in Cyrodiil, in addition to the acquisition of a mages staff. The latter would facilitate progress in the former, and I therefore decided I would accomplish this first. What then for my staff? I had two options; the staff of Apotheosis from Rindir in the Imperial City, or the creation of my own staff as part of my introduction into the mages guild proper. In reality it was not a difficult decision – from experience I was aware of the weakness associated with the standard guild staffs, serving a primarily symbolic role. In addition I had not forgotten the words of Raminus Polus – or rather the implicit threat. A trap doubtless awaited me, and I would rather walk into it bearing the power of the Apotheosis than with my hands empty.

This decision made, it was merely a matter of raising the five thousand gold needed. Unfortunately I had no financial foundation to build upon this time – meaning I could not initially rely upon the creation of alchemical potions as a source of income, which would have otherwise likely have proved particularly effective, in light of my newly enchanted laboratory. I would therefore need to acquire the gold either through the sale of items I acquired, or from fight money in the Arena. Again I felt the latter could be better accomplished following the acquisition of the Apotheosis, and not before, therefore again the decision seemed simple – I must once more venture into the ruins of Cyrodiil.

Travel is exceptionally easy in my new circumstance – I had simply to walk to the balcony and use the Arcane Universities respective teleportation pad. The journey is fleeting, and I appeared without apparent complication at the University gates. It was late evening, my days of training having destroyed my compliance with solar timekeeping, but I had no current obligations in the city – instead exiting by the main gate having determined to search the drowned ruins. With the familiarity I have developed with such ruins I felt confident that I might now find an entrance into the interior, having achieved little on my previous visit beyond killing a swimming bandit.

The ruins appeared deserted, and my search went uninterrupted, until I finally found an entrance into the interior – an obscured and crumbling stairway curving downwards towards a marble door. Entering, I moved silently, a spell of detect life already active. Despite my recent development and the relative ease with which many spells now came to me, I did not wish to face any foe on terms other than my own. In addition, while my skills have improved, I have yet to acquire spells truly fitting for them - such costing money I currently lack. I am therefore limited to those spells and equipment I possessed before my recent training; it is simply that I myself am a great deal more capable in using them – my mind sharper, my will stronger, my skill greater.

I have yet to regret caution, and once again the validity of the strategy was borne out, as my probing spells perceived a foe through the rock walls. At last approaching, I crept around a corner, moving silently, until I could see my enemy clearly. The figure hovered, its appearance slightly transparent, yet dark against the walls, almost as if consuming and draining the light that illuminated it. The hall became colder still as I neared it, yet it seemed not to perceive me. Pausing to focus my mind, I reached out with my senses, feeling its substance. The sensation was similar to the wisp of light I had encountered in Fort Empire, yet the act of perceiving seemed easier than then. Was this the result of my recent development? It seemed the only possible explanation at the time, as my senses pierced the undead wraith. It too appeared to possess the ability to drain attributes from its foe, and as my mind considered it a word sprang into the forefront of my consciousness, accompanied by a dull ache and stab of ice; "Fanacasecul". Was this the name of the entity, the ruins, or something entirely different? I had no way of knowing, and this very fact disturbed me more than the enemy before me, despite my appreciation for its deadliness.

It was clear that the draining attacks would pose the greatest threat, and I therefore summoned forth a lesser flame atronach to bear the brunt of its attacks. Using this summon as both a shield and distracter, and renewing the casting when necessary, I eventually succeeded in destroying the Wraith through the Finger of the Mountain spell I had acquired at Cloud Top. It stood up to a great deal of punishment, and I fear if I had encountered it unprepared, or indeed but a fortnight ago, it might have proved deadly against me. As is it still required the concentration of all my magical efforts.

This achieved I continued my progression in the ruins. It was in some ways unfortunate that my enemies were undead, rather than bandits - undead typically lack the armour that can make killing bandits so lucrative. That said, the first Skeleton I encountered wielded a Dwarven axe of some value, indeed this item paired with the skill of the bearer left me with the impression that it had been a champion in life, in addition to having received particularly strong necromantic wards. Such strength seemed typical of those I encountered in this ruin, although my investigation was brief – as I swiftly came upon a sealed container, the lock complexity unfortunately proving greater than the magnitude of my unsealing spells.

Thus prompted, I teleported to Frostcrag Spire, before jumping onwards to Cheydinal – the specialist in Alteration, of which lock opening was a part. Here I sold the Dwarven axe, providing enough gold to cover the acquisition of a more powerful unsealing spell than any I yet possessed. Again returning to Frostcrag Spire, I teleported back to the University, retracing my steps to the drowned ruin. As I approached however I observed activity – a bandit appeared to be walking the periphery. Most notably however, the bandit was clad in fine armour, appearing to include both Elven and Mithril. The value of such was too great to pass up, and I therefore stalked her for a time, before pressing my hand upon her back as she stood gazing out into the lake, standing at the edge in the shallows. The lake seemed to facilitate my electrical touch spell, for she convulsed uncontrollably, falling forwards into the water. That said, she seemed to retain life, the force having apparently merely robbed her limbs of movement. This concerned me little however; I simply stripped her of her armour, before casting her paralysed form face forward into the water. Lacking movement, her end would come swiftly enough (from my perspective), and I turned away from her yet twitching form, again entering the drowned ruins.

Returning to the container, my newly acquired spell proved sufficient to overcome the lock complexity, and I was gratified to find a pair of Ebony boots – which would likely more than cover the cost of the spell purchased as a catalyst for this and future acquisitions. This achieved, I swiftly returned to the Imperial City, disdaining the remaining unexplored depths of the drowned ruins, feeling I was yet under-equipped. Charming Rohssan of the Fighting Chance, I sold what armour I had gathered, leaving me with a little under fourteen hundred gold. From here I entered the Main Ingredient, again casting spells of charm, and purchasing all reagents of ten gold or less from an obliging Ogier Georick.

Returning now to Frostcrag Spire via the usual means, I mixed a wide range of potions, using both the newly bought ingredients, in addition to many I had stored in the lab itself. The enchantment proved worthwhile, boosting my skill considerably while I worked, until I held sixty five potions. Returning to the Imperial City, I sold these, earning me yet more money. Utilising my teleportation pad and spells, it was a simple matter to visit each mages guild, purchasing cheap ingredients in addition to valuable apparatus – indeed by the end of the day I possessed a full set of expert quality equipment. Working with this I developed yet more potions, until the sale of these left me with approximately six thousand gold. This having been achieved, I entered Rindirs, and finally purchased the long awaited staff.

Apparently formed of warped wood, examination revealed the power of fire, electricity and ice, all trapped within the core of the staff. I have taken to retaining it through a limited application of telekinesis holding it pressed against my back, until I have need of it. Although of limited charge, from previous experience with similar enchanted items I am aware I can recharge the core power through sacrificing the energy of trapped souls. I look forward to using the Apotheosis, and believe the Arena will be the perfect environment to first test its destructive powers...I will soon be a Warrior no longer.