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.