Oblivion Diary

2011-08-18T20:46:00.002+01:00

As you are all doubtless aware, Beth have announced Skyrim (yay!).

I'm celebrating with a... you guessed it... Skyrim Diary!

Actually it starts a fair time before the events of Skyrim, because I want to have some interesting things in place and established before my character(s) arrive there on 11-11-11.

Who will make a return?

Victoria. Alexander. House Indoril.

... the doubtless exciting list goes on.

Link

Can I avoid the same inactivity death that I eventually inflicted upon Oblivion Diary? Hopefully.

2007-08-14T00:27:00.000+01:00

An update:

I don't know if anyone still checks up on this site (there hasn't really been anything to check up on...), but I thought that seems as I'm writing again, I should provide an update. Not writing here unfortunately, if that is what you were hoping. You can find my new project here

It's my first ever web page and I'm writing it using notepad, so expect 'functional' rather than beautiful. Also, don't be surprised if even chapter 1 is still clearly under construction when you visit. Give it a look and see what you think - I'd appreciate any feedback either as a comment to this post, or via e-mail at the above site.

Sorry if this wasn't the news you'd been hoping for, and thanks for checking back.

-Victoria

p.s. - That isn't to say Oblivion Diary will never return, its situation remains the same as it has for the past 10 or so months - although the fact I'm writing again might be an encouraging sign.

2006-10-09T20:36:00.000+01:00

Oblivion Diary Closed Until Further Notice:

I regret to announce that I cannot forsee any real likelihood of Oblivion Diary continuing in the short term due to my own personal commitments. I feel this especially unfortunate as I had already planned (in some detail) the paths the story would take. Rather than 'end' this story in a single (likely brutal) entry, which would be both anti-climactic and erode the entire narrative, I will simply leave Oblivion Diary until such time as I can give it the effort that it requires. I am sorry for the rather scattered updating schedule (and long gaps) prior to now - however it is now evident that I cannot continue developing the plot, short of turning it into some kind of 'stop-start' travesty.

Given the chance, I will continue Oblivion Diary at a later date, as I believe the story and characters have potential, and I enjoyed writing it. However I do not believe I will have the time in the coming months to write the time consuming entries required - or if I did so, the quality would be compromised through a lack of time. The fact that I have yet to play Oblivion (the game) to any extent greater than that told here (yes, this really is the entirity) has also served as a hinderance - in the little time I have had available to play, the game has (for now) failed to maintain my attention. While this latter point may change once I have hardware capable of running it effectively (read, once the next generation of high end GPU's are released), there is little likelihood of me having an opportunity to apply myself to Oblivion Diary in the coming months.

I would like to thank those who have followed Oblivion Diary, and especially those that have provided feedback. Farewell.

-Victoria

2006-08-28T00:50:00.000+01:00

31 - Alexander - Journeyman:

The journey to Anvil was indeed long, although I stopped at the Imperial City on the way, hoping to talk again with Brother Andrew. Unfortunately the temple was deserted, and none would admit to know anyone by his name. I left slightly bemused, but with nothing else to occupy me in the city I simply continued onwards.

The roads cannot be considered safe - certainly for simple citizens - for I suffered from several bandit attacks en route. Fortunately none seemed particularly capable at combat, and I am left with the feeling that perhaps the residents of Cyrodiil (or at least the low life’s I have encountered) are relatively unskilled at combat; at least compared to the Redguards of Hammerfell. I killed the bandits, finding I could now put aside my former inhibitions relatively easily – it helped that none chose to speak (beyond demanding my money).

Anvil is ringed by a tall stone wall, as indeed it seems are all such towns in Cyrodiil – a testament to its military past. The roads were quiet, with many having chosen to dwell in the safety of the towns in these unsettled times – the Emperors assassination had left many distinctly unnerved. Perhaps it was the scarcity of travellers that caused the bandits to resort to me as a target despite my clear combat abilities.

Aside from the presence of the guards, I suspect the imposing Fighters Guild building also allays civilian fears – the tall, smooth stone walls once again adorned by red banners. Azzan, the Guild head, was easy to find – the Redguard appeared to spend his days in the office on the top floor. I was issued my contract swiftly (for which I was thankful considering my long journey) – the job being to clear up a problem involving rats for one “Arvena Thelas”.

Killing rats would be a simple (if demeaning) task, but it transpired that I should protect them rather than kill them. Thelas - a Dunmar lady - appeared to keep them as pets in her basement, but something was killing them. Immediately upon entering the basement I encountered the problem – a mountain lion. It was already in the process of attacking one of the rats (a rather one sided battle), but while it was thus distracted I killed it easily - a single blow to the neck ending its life. Unfortunately the rat now appeared wild from its injuries - immediately attacking me, and leaving me with no option but to kill it.

Thelas appeared shocked to learn of the lion (I admit I was surprised myself, although I know little of the native wildlife), and tasked me with hunting down any in the area, pointing me in the direction of a local woodsman who would assist me in tracking them down.

We encountered the pride in a clearing just outside the city walls, but even after killing them it remained unclear what had drawn them into the city. Thelas, however, had a theory; her neighbour – Quill-Weave. Initially it seemed mere paranoia to me, but never the less I was duty bound to fulfil my contract, and I therefore followed Quill-Weave for much of the day. A tedious task, made all the more tiresome (albeit easier) by the fact that she spent much of her day in the Mages Guild. Despite my formidable skills in healing, I felt I could not tail her there without attracting notice, and therefore compromised by following her only after she left the building. Fortunately this proved enough, for as night fell I observed her creep behind Thelas’ house with a piece of stinking meat in her hand, which she laid behind the house.

It was obvious that this must be what had drawn the lions to Thelas’ house – perhaps the rats had been dragging the meat into the basement, and then the lions had been attracted by the scent. As Quill-Weave began to make her way back out of the garden I stepped out of the shadows to confront her, a shocked hissing exclamation accompanying the Argonian sighting me.

She explained (reluctantly) that she had been leaving the meat to draw the rats out, apparently so that the town residents would deal with them, but claimed to have had no knowledge of the mountain lions – and asked that I not mention my discovery to Thelas.

Returning to the Thelas household, I was duty bound to inform her of my finding. She was angry, but fortunately my contract was now over – although I was fairly certain it would not have allowed her to order me to attack civilians, it was never the less a relief to leave.

Returning to the Fighters Guild, I was rewarded not with promotion, but instead with a new task – to guard a shop from robbers. This task, although more dangerous than the last, proved considerably shorter - I remained in the shop until finally (at around mid-night) the thieves entered - and upon seeing me, attacked.

There were three; a Bosner, a Dunmar and a Nord. Initially I took few chances, backing up the stairway so they could not assail me simultaneously. However it swiftly became apparent that they were outclassed, and after dealing a deadly blow to the Nord I pressed my advantage, killing the remaining two in the same minute. I had no regrets – Brother Andrew was right, these three had given up their rights the moment they became criminals.

This time I was finally rewarded with promotion, to the rank of Journeyman, but unfortunately there was no further work for me here. Apparently my next guild task would be assigned in Chorrol, however I decided I would first return to the Imperial City – perhaps the Temple would now be occupied.

2006-08-20T23:18:00.000+01:00

30 - Alexander - The Cheydinhal Mine:

I spent until the next morning resting at the temple of the Nine Divines. Brother Andrew led a small congregation, his charismatic speech filling the spherical hall from floor to roof, holding the audience in rapture. He spoke of the creation, the glory of the Nine Divines, and the evil in this world. I stood aside, though his words appealed to me – I felt they had a ring of truth.

One thing was clear – I could not continue on as I had. I spent much of the night discussing the events since my arrival with Andrew. He was sympathetic, but felt my perspective had been flawed. Those outside the law had no rights under the law, and that included bandits – the duty of a warrior is to protect the innocent. He also believed that the Arena was honourable – he felt it was the only place where two “good” individuals could fight. The Divines would see to the victory of those who deserved it, as they would in all things.

I departed with the dawn, my mind made up. What he had said made sense to me, and I vowed now to set aside the rights of the lawless without hesitation. Despite this, I felt I could not return to the Arena immediately, the cruel memories of my blunder still haunting me. Fortunately (in a way) my journey to undertake my initiation into the Fighters Guild would take me far from the Imperial Capital, and I arbitrarily chose Cheydinhal over Anvil as my destination.

A low rumble dispelled any hopes I had of a pleasant journey - a storm was brewing, and judging from the sounds it would not pass swiftly. Sure enough, I had barely reached the Red Ring Road before experiencing the all too familiar sensation of rain drops impacting upon iron plate. It was going to be a long trip.

Regarding the journey, there is little to say. The storm continued into the night, and so did I, eventually reaching the town of Cheydinhal after midnight (by now thoroughly exhausted). The road had not been uneventful, for while I had not actively looked for trouble (walking through abandoned Imperial Forts without pausing to investigate), trouble had found me nevertheless – primarily in the form of Wolves. However, again my journey was interrupted by bandits – I would rather not speak of the incidents. Suffice to say that none proved a challenge in combat, and that I managed to set aside my concern for their life. They had no rights, existing only to prey upon the innocent – of whom I am a sworn protector.

Fortunately the gate to Cheydinal was open despite the lateness of the hour, and after a cursory interrogation by the miserable guards (the storm yet continued unabated) I entered without problem. The long road had left my legs leaden; I simply entered the first Inn I could see – the Newlands Lodge – where I purchased a simple room, collapsing swiftly into a deep sleep.

While woken early by the sounds emanating from below (the land lady, Dervera, had warned me to expect disturbances – this was not a peaceful establishment) I did not in fact rise until after mid-day, such was my fatigue. Finally need stirred me; I had not eaten that day and was short on money. I needed the income that the Fighters Guild would provide, and with that in mind I departed the Inn in search of the Guild hall.

The Fighters Guild stood besides the main road, red banners fluttering proudly in the cool breeze, the air freshened by the passage of the storm. Unfortunately I entered now as the lowest of the low in terms of rank, but everyone had to start somewhere. Expecting a relatively menial task, I was unsurprised to be instructed to convey a weapon shipment by the Orc Guildmaster, Burz gro-Khash.

The recipients of the order were in a mine just north of the town, and I arrived without difficulty – handing out the steel bow, sword and hammer to the three assembled guild members. They were here to clean out a Goblin infestation, and I joined them in this. Although not strictly the task assigned, I felt it would be a valued contribution.

‘Infestation’ had been a fair assessment – there seemed to be an entire tribe in these caves, but none matched their viciousness in skill, and it was a simple - if tedious - task to clear them from the mine. Upon reaching the base of the mine my companions thanked me with a gift – ingots of silver and gold from the mine. In truth I feel slightly ashamed to have accepted it, for I suspect it was not theirs to give – but doubtless the open metal vein will be taken into account when the Guild is paid by the miners.

Returning to Cheydinhal, I stopped en route to hammer my iron equipment back into shape, silently thanking the generosity of my adopted parents. Already I missed them a little, and vowed that once I had attained a respectable position here I would return and visit them.

Burz seemed satisfied with my performance (I might even go so far as to say ‘pleased’, but it is hard to tell in an Orc), rewarding me with one hundred Septims – before promoting me to the rank of Apprentice! Unfortunately not all the news was so welcome – there was no work here for one of my rank, and I must now journey to Anvil for my next task, which I would receive off ‘Azzan’.

Departing the guild, I donated a coin to Bruccius the Orphan, before leaving by the main gates. The journey to Anvil from Cheydinhal would be long, but the Imperial City lay between.

2006-08-11T00:58:00.000+01:00

29 - Alexander - A Torturous Mistake:

I lay in bed for a time, staring at the ceiling. A man had failed to see this dawn due to my action...and my inaction. My adoptive father had always said I had a gift - an extraordinary talent in combat. Here it had been proven – I had delivered a mortal wound on instinct alone. I had trained with the intent of defending others, but was defending myself alone a worthy act? I had no immediate answer, but there seemed little honour in it.

Paradoxically, while my skills at combat appeared to have developed only too well, my other ability – for which I had been better known among the people of Hammerfell – had achieved nothing. Had I simply been too late in casting the spell of healing? If so, my immediate reaction of disgust had fuelled further injury to the wounded, simply through my inaction. My hesitation had cost a life, and I now vowed never to hesitate again – not when I knew what was right.

What then was I doing now other than hesitating... contemplating the past with regret. In line with my new vow, I forced myself to rise, and - with a sensation almost of revulsion - clad myself in my iron armour. Leaving without a further word to Nerussa (and hoping she would forgive my lack of manners) I turned towards where the Imperial City awaited me.

The rising sun shone from behind the walls, lighting the sky as I paced across the immense bridge that spanned Lake Rumare. The light would have blinded me, but for the fact that I walked now in the shadow of the Palace Tower – so great as to be visible from the very borders of Cyrodiil. The gates hung open, guards standing to attention on either side, and I strode into the city.

Standing in Talos Plaze I gazed around in open wonder. Here stood a guard, dressed in intricate ornate armour, there a marble house – generations old, and here - the great statue of a Dragon. I suppose in time this shall become familiar to me – certainly the inhabitants seemed to be keeping their heads down – but for now, the sights were new and wondrous.

My reverie was broken however, by the intrusion of a beggar. He stood forlorn and desperate, his face speaking of sorrow and poverty. A single coin? I handed it over without hesitation, food for a day said he, and my heart lightened with my purse.

Alas my purse was already light enough, for beyond my armour, a sword, a change of clothes and the smiths hammers gifted upon me by my father, I too was in need. I had hoped that the Fighters Guild might provide some income, but it seemed now as if that would have to wait until I journeyed to a far flung town – and I could not travel on an empty purse. Yet I did not begrudge the beggar my gold for even a second; his need was greater than mine, and it merely spurred my efforts.

Walking onwards, I came upon a striking poster adorning a wall. It illustrated a scene of glory, bold combatants standing in the foreground, while in the background – The Arena! Perhaps this could provide me with some income. The idea appealed to me, for the fights would be honourable and against willing opponents. Further, I would use my healing magic upon my opponents upon defeating them, and likewise presumable an official would do so unto me if I were bested.

So it was that ten minutes later I found myself approaching the blond haired Bosner who stood before the Arena coliseum.

“Ah, a fresh face. Welcome! Come to place a wager on the outcome of a match? Or perhaps you wish to become one of our fine combatants?” An enthusiastic patter of speech.

“Not the former, betting is dishonoura…” I began, pausing, before deciding that simplicity would suffice “I would be a combatant”

“Excellent, we’re always looking for new bodie…ah, that is, new faces. Very well, you will be assigned to the yellow team. They’re a little undermanned these days, mainly due to a certain…” he paused, glancing around, before hissing “…witch”

“Do the duels allow magic then? I know only healing magic”

“Ah that’s good…no that shouldn’t be a problem. There is only one person who reall…look, it’s nothing to be concerned about. I wish you luck”

He had already turned away, espying a man in blue robes approaching. A regular customer perhaps… not the 'witch' anyway.

‘No hesitation’ I had vowed, and I therefore strode into the yellow teams’ under works; a dimly lit training facility. Approaching an Orchish gladiator, I was informed in a gruff and dismissive tone that the yellow supervisor didn’t “waste his time on Pit Dogs”, and that I should simply grab an Arena Raiment and head up to the Arena floor.

The armour was lain out upon the side. Standardised armour for all combatants…I approved of that, it spoke of fairness. Stripping off my iron garb, and leaving only my helm, shield and sword, I donned a heavier form of the raiment, before walking up a winding passage which would take me to the Arena proper. Clotted blood marked the floor, and I began to wonder whether sometimes the Arena healers didn’t always get there in time. No…surely they would be trained beyond even my notable skills. This was no time to get distracted; I stepped forth into the harsh blinding light of the Arena.

An announcer’s voice boomed out, introducing the opponent and I – she being a female Dunmar. It seemed she too was a ‘Pit Dog’, and had yet to fight. Perhaps they were easing us in; it seemed a little unlikely that I could otherwise have come up against an unproven combatant. Hoping she would prove an honourable opponent, I nevertheless cast aside such considerations as the gate fell.

We both charged, meeting at the centre of the Arena. She armed with a short sword and light raiment, while I wielding my iron long sword and shield. It became clear almost instantly that she was outmatched, her cuts and lunges positively lethargic compared to my swift fencing and footwork. A series of quick feints threw her off balance and I struck, cutting lightly into her sword arm’s shoulder. She leapt backwards panting.

“Do you yield, honourable opponent?” I asked

She spoke not a word, looking at me in disbelief and…fear? I had never had a woman look upon me with fear in her eyes, and it unnerved me. Would she not yield before I dealt her a serious injury? I had no option but to continue, again easily overcoming her defences to deal a second blow, this time sending her helm flying and landing a thin gash across her brow.

“Will you not yield!?” I demanded again, louder than before

“Do not…mock me!” She spoke through clenched teeth, clearly in some pain.

I struggled to understand her words; did she refer to the wounds I had given her? However, I had no time to formulate a reply, for she charged upon me with a cry. Alas her defence was wide open, and I merely leapt aside lightly, drawing forth a trail of blood from her left hand. She stood again, breathing heavily.

Cries emerged from the crowd, yet I could not hear the words. Were they disappointed with the fight? An aspect of it? What more could I do… she would not yield. Perhaps her stubbornness then was the cause for the crowds’ impatience. I had won, she had been defeated, and now I should heal her and support her out of the Arena, making way for the next match.

I stepped forward, palm outstretched, but she fell back, tripping as she went – staring at me in abject terror. I approached again, leaning forward and reaching forth – but as I did so she grabbed for her short sword, stabbing upwards. I twisted away, slipping, and fell upon her, the short sword between us. Scrabbling desperately, I leapt back in a single movement, but it was too late - none would now ever come from her.

A pool of blood spread outward from her…from the wound in her chest…from the sword that my body had driven through her. I jumped forward summoning a spell of healing with all my strength, casting it again and again into her still body…but she would not move. I howled in despair, my vision clouding.

I can remember little of the following minutes; eventually I found myself sitting propped against a wall in the under works. None approached, and indeed my fellow fighters appeared to be eying me with disgust. Would they ever forgive me for killing a gladiator? I was desolate, and grabbing my pack (and a purse that had been cast beside me) I left the under works behind without a word.

Upon emerging, blinking, into the streets above, I was approached by the blue robed man I had observed earlier. Before he could speak however, a drunk man swaggered past, swearing at me.

“Cruel Alexander you are…ye…why did ye ‘av to kill ‘er like that? She waz ‘jus a little lady..n you…you tortured ‘err you did! You tortured er' before th' end! N' then...n' then desecratin 'er body wit magic...pah”

“But I…she wouldn’t yield! I tried to save her, I swear I tried!” I cried; but the drunk had walked away, his spittle the only reply.

I felt an arm upon my shoulder; the man in blue.

“I understand my son, I can understand you... and this tragedy, completely” he spoke softly, reassuringly “Come with me, I have a place we can go…please”

“I begged her to yield!” I began “I begged her, but she wouldn’t give up! Why!?”

A look of sympathy crossed his face “Aye lad, these are mortal fights, only one emerges alive. I see you’re in need of help, and I won’t turn away from one in need, come with me to the temple”

I could barely understand his words. Fights to the death? Then the accusations of torture had been because of my refusal to mortally wound the lady? My actions appearing to prolong agony out of evil cruelty? I could scarcely begin to appreciate the enormity of my blunder. I stumbled alongside the robed man, leaning upon him for support as tears streamed down my face.

A beggar clawed at my leg from the gutter; I looked down through swollen eyes to see the man was afflicted with plague. He flinched as I stooped, and I almost hesitated…the recent memories…but I forced myself not to shrink, casting a spell of healing upon him. As my new friend tugged upon my arm, I turned one last time, throwing the blood money from the Arena to the beggar in the dirt; his look of fear replaced now with wonder.

“I see ye have more than one gift friend Alexander, it was wasn’t it? I am Brother Andrew, please come with me and rest at the temple, we can help you there”

Directionless, I simply followed Brother Andrew as we stumbled through the central graveyard; I like a lame man, he a guide. The temple district lay before us.

2006-08-08T22:26:00.000+01:00

28 - Alexander - A Departure from Hammerfell:

Today was the day I finally returned to Cyrodiil, and as expected, it proved entirely unfamiliar – despite being the province of my birth. It had clearly been unrealistic to hope that any memories laid as an infant might be reawakened, however in many ways this is a blessing; I may experience the province anew.

Leaving the Border Inn at dawn and bidding my comrade farewell, I crossed the mountain pass into the westerly regions of the Imperial province. I suppose I should have no reason to feel out of place here, being an Imperial myself, but a lifetime of dwelling among the Redguards of Hammerfell has made an alien of a native.

The worn map in my backpack had indicated that the first town that I would encounter was “Chorrol”, which lay a short distance along the Black Road. Before I caught sight of any town however, I was assailed by a wolf. It proved welcome as a chance to hone my swordsmanship skills, and may indeed have helped steel me for my next encounter – bandits! I had barely left the wolf behind me when an arrow shot from the woods, the shaft glancing off my iron armour. Turning, the ambush was clear – a female archer stood some distance away, while a mace wielding Redguard ran at me.

Despite having imagined situations such as this innumerable times, I was nevertheless frozen to the spot in shock. Frozen that is, until the mace finally swung towards me, at which point my training took over. Raising my iron longsword, I deflected the mace to my left while simultaneously stepping to the right. As momentum carried my assailant past me I stepped into his side heavily, knocking him to the floor.

I stepped close and stretched my arm out, to which he flinched. I paused, confused, didn’t he want to be helped back up, so as to engage on equal terms? It was at this point that the second shaft struck, this time impacting upon the chain glove of my left hand. As I spun around, raising my shield, I felt the bandit lunge towards me from behind. Ducking frantically, the mace whistled past where my head had been, and I struck instinctively, my sword stabbing through the torso of my assailant.

He fell screaming upon the ground as I stood there, shocked. The criminal convulsed, clutching his stomach; I stared. Finally, as the bile rose in my throat, I turned, vomiting upon the grass. Shaking now, I returned to where the bandit lay, his movements feeble. The archer had clearly abandoned her comrade, and we were alone.

Reaching out, I laid my gloved hand upon the forehead of the twitching bandit, casting a spell of healing. The spell took effect slowly, but even as the magical energies circulated his body the life gave out. Where my spell had been acting upon a living being, it now found itself in dead flesh. The energies rebounded back into me, leaving a dull ache. I had killed a man.

He had been deserving of death, I tried to convince myself… but all I could see was the agony in his face as he lay dying, choking, his body twitching in agony. And then the sensation of his life dissolving conveyed to me directly by the failed healing spell…it was too much to bear. I couldn’t bring myself to touch his body, and simply began to shuffle towards Chorrol, my enthusiasm turned to ashes.

Chorrol was a large town, by Hammerfell reckoning at least. Granite stone walls stood in a tall ring, testifying to the military past of the Empire. Here I sat by a statue for a time, the effigy itself portraying a dying soldier. The bandit had deserved to die…surely. I forced into my mind all the murders and thefts done by individuals such as he. It had been self defence. I should have just killed him cleanly and walked away. I told myself these same things again and again, forcing myself to believe them. If I could not bear to kill a bandit in self defence, how could I defend others in need? I steeled myself, rose, and walked the town in search of the Fighters guild.

My first conversation in Cyrodiil, if you could call it that, was not in fact with an Imperial, but rather a female Altmer. She paced the streets, an aged (and slightly singed) book in her hands, looking up only long enough to snap out that the Fighters guild was at the top of the town, beside “Teekeeus’ thrice accursed mages guild”. Suspecting a link between the scarred tome and her obvious antipathy towards the mages guild, I nevertheless departed without further comment – I was not inclined to become involved.

The guild hall did indeed stand at the top of the town, and upon entering I was directed towards the guild hall head; Vilena Donton. It seemed that the sole entry requirement to the guild was a clean criminal record, and this not being a problem, I was entered into the Fighters Guild ranks as an Associate. A problem did exist however; there were no tasks available here for someone of my rank. I would have to visit “Cheydinhal” or “Anvil”. If my map was anything to go by, she could scarcely have picked two more disparate towns.

I departed Chorrol in the afternoon - the Imperial City lay between here and either of these locations, and it was therefore towards the Imperial City that I now travelled. My journey was largely uninterrupted for a time, and indeed I took the opportunity to explore the ruins of an Imperial fort – Fort Ash, now a dwelling place of Goblins. The interior was dark, but my fighting skills proved superior to any of the foul creatures I encountered, and here I killed without regret.

As the afternoon stretched into evening I finally caught sight of the Imperial City. It lay on an island, a lake (“Lake Rumare” claimed my map) surrounding it. The moonlight illuminated the marble walls, their reflection dancing in the dark, mirror-like water below. Above this stood the Imperial Tower; a true wonder. The sight was awe inspiring, and with it came the knowledge that this, this amazing display of power and skill, this was my heritage as an Imperial. I would not forget it.

As the night began to advance I finally arrived at the City bridge, finding lodgings for the night at the “Wawnet Inn” - it had been a long day. Worn, weary, and ten Septims poorer (courtesy of the landlady, Nerussa) I collapsed into bed. I had entered Cyrodiil only today, and I have already killed my first man. Is this the lauded life of a warrior? Struggling to even strip off my armour, let alone put my life into perspective, I soon fell into a deep sleep.

2006-08-07T01:09:00.000+01:00

27 - Victoria - Speculation:

The tower was as silent as ever as I stood there, drained by the nights efforts. Everything had gone to plan, and that was now my lasting regret – my plan had killed Rufio, and with it, the answers I now sought.

My mind on other things, I nevertheless automatically attended to the practical, turning and walking towards the tower gate with the knife in hand; it was bloody, and I would clean it in the snow without. It was only as I unsealed the door that I became aware of the blizzard shrieking outside; flakes rushed through the arch, and within seconds a thin layer of frost was building up on the floor below.

I stepped forward and plunged the Brotherhood dagger into the nearest snow drift, twisting it before pulling it back; the dagger blade now coated by snow crystals stained pink with blood. Clasping the blade lightly, I focused a minor spell of fire upon it, melting the ice, and leaving the weapon glinting golden in the darkness.

I entered again, shivering slightly, the dagger now warming my hands. I doubted the Brotherhood Speaker would contact me here, if he even knew the location. Isolation precluded easy travel, and the weather only compounded this. The main question I had for him was simple; who had sponsored the assassination? Even now however, I was not optimistic about the chances of him simply volunteering the information outright – myself a novice, and the backer doubtless desiring privacy. It would also be short sighted to jeopardise my status in the guild this early in my ‘career’; I would not be able to press the point.

The more I thought about it, the more it seemed to me that the only way I could retain the initiative would be to leave the incident unmentioned. There was the possibility that my target had been chosen for this very eventuality to occur, and I didn’t want to simply play into anyones hands. Not like this… blindly, I would have to investigate surreptitiously.

I wondered what state the survivor at the Inn of Ill Omen was in. Perhaps I should have taken the blade from the ‘crazed’ soldier and stabbed Rufio’s corpse with it, so as to mask the injuries from the true weapon. Despite the confusion the killing would have thrown up, there was yet a chance that the identity of the blade type might be established by a conscientious investigator. Being enchanted, the weapon would surely leave detectable traces in the wound, and further, I doubted blades of this type were typical murder weapons. If the identity of Rufio was who I suspected, and the blade wound was indeed identified, then two and two might be put together. The only person immediately obvious to me who might be able to link this to me was Raminus Polus – however I was more worried about those who undoubtedly stood behind him.

Still, my situation could be worse, I am safe, my mission is accomplished, and the majority of my worries are merely speculation - and with that in mind I have decided to simply rest here for the remainder of the night.

2006-06-30T00:49:00.000+01:00

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.

2006-06-28T02:15:00.000+01:00

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...

2006-06-21T03:33:00.000+01:00

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.

2006-06-13T02:07:00.000+01:00

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.

2006-05-21T18:27:00.000+01:00

22 - Victoria - Frostcrag Spire:

Upon entering I was confronted with a curved stone wall. Judging from the scale of the tower from the outside, this wall blocked my path, but it appeared to have no particular features allowing for interaction. A number of glowing plinths lay in a half circle, each low upon the floor, while at the centre of the room a hand sculpted in ice held aloft a dark leather bound book.

I lifted the tome, its pages untouched by frost, and opened it. The book appeared to be a cross between a set of abridged memoirs, and information for me regarding this tower. The writing was jagged and shaky however, appearing rushed, and indeed the wording at times seemed...alarming. What circumstance had gripped the author as they wrote this? Something was not right here, but the immediate cause was not apparent to me. It was at this moment that the curved wall began to move, and I cast the book aside, readying myself for what ever awaited me in the next room.

Nothing, or nothing to cause alarm. Rather I beheld the ground floor of the tower. Although bare of furnishings, there were a number of items of note. The first of these was an elevated alter, which stood upon a raised dais on the opposite side of the room, flanked by two golden magical structures. Approaching, they were revealed to be alters of enchanting, and of spellmaking. This alone served to intensify my interest in this tower – what could be more convenient than my own private facilities? This would serve to sever my reliance upon the good will of the Mages Guild – which had previously been necessary for arcane development. However, both alters lacked the magical candles which fuelled them – I would clearly have to find these elsewhere.

The alter itself appeared to be one of summoning, replete with a slot for placing alchemical ingredients within. The memoirs had mentioned that Atronachs could be summoned forth with this, however my mind began to race at the prospect of...other...items, which I might use for summoning. Here, distanced from the populace of Cyrodiil, and the sadly regressive policies of the Arch-Mage, perhaps I could begin my own research. I cast my mind back to the black soul gems I had seen...they too were worthy of investigation. However I had yet to explore the remainder of the tower, and the teleportation portals beckoned.

The first portal moved me below the ground, into what appeared to be a storage facility, or vault. At least, that is the use that sprang to mind – it was currently bare, and I had no desire to simply throw my items upon the ground. The upper floor meanwhile held a small garden of ingredients, lit from a shaft high above. It was here that the living quarters had been housed, but again was now bare. It was clear I would indeed have to purchase furnishings myself, likely from the Imperial City. I also felt here would be the ideal floor to house an alchemy lab, and filed this idea away until I was back in the Imperial City. The obvious difficulty was how I could possibly bring bulky furniture here, if I so chose – particularly without publicising the location of the tower.

Also upon this floor was an exterior balcony, and here I found the other key feature of this tower – it allowed teleportation to each of the Mage Guild halls in Cyrodiil, in addition to the Arcane University. The teleportation fortunately appeared to be one way – meaning I would not received unexpected visitors. However this was a double edged sword – I had not forgotten the difficult journey required to reach here, and looking down even now I could see Shadow huddled against the shelter of the wall, from the biting wind. I could not remain here long.

One area remained, the roof of the tower itself, and I entered the final portal. The roof held its own mystery, or perhaps a cryptic answer to a previous one, for upon it lay the stripped corpse of a man. His age appeared advanced...to an exceptional extent. He looked older than I had believed an ageing mortal could live, sagging and wrinkled skin, appearing dry and chalky even in the storm, lay loose upon his body. His face too appeared unusual – his eyes were missing, as if they had rotted away. This all seemed strange, but as I reached across to touch his face I realised the body was still warm. Judging from the ambient air temperature this far to the north, and at such an exposed and elevated location, I judged that he must have been alive until at least the time of my arrival. Stranger still.

Lifting the light corpse slightly, I beheld a scroll lying beneath him. Opening it, I found it contained a spell of teleportation, which would allow the owner of the tower to teleport here instantly. The writing appeared different from that of the memoirs below, this time a crisp and flowing script. I could not waste time however, for it would not do to leave Shadow here, and I therefore lifted the body and, with some effort, carried it through the teleportation portal. I decided to place the corpse within the vault for now, before again studying the spell I had found. Judging from its composition, only the legal owner of the tower could teleport through the wards surrounding it, and after further examination I concluded that it was safe to use – moving me to where ever I wished to appear within, or upon, the tower.

Now I appeared to have the ability to travel both to and from my tower near instantly, which exceeded any reasonable expectations I had held prior to arriving here. It would be my home, I decided.

Exiting the main chamber, I approached the wall and whispered in Shadows ear. The words drew upon my knowledge of magic, although they were not magical themselves. In this case they were simple, providing instruction for Shadow to return to the Imperial City alone, and dwell in the vicinity until I called him forth. Finally, I took the saddle bags, and cast them into the main chamber of the tower. By now Shadow had departed, and I decided to use the portal to the Arcane University.

I achieved the purchase of my vault storage, book shelves and bed, in addition to some ornamentation, from the Mystic Emporium. Finally I had a rather specific request, which I made to Aurelinwae – my own alchemy lab. Despite the spells of charm I had used during this acquisition, the purchase of this enchanted laboratory consumed the remainder of my gold reserves – and I now held barely the amount I had exited the prison sewers holding. Nevertheless I had now achieved much of what I had set out to do – including acquiring entry to the Arcane University, and possession of a steed, and a residence – the latter two in particular having met my exacting standards.

The movement of the furniture was surprisingly simple considering the distances involved – I simply placed a hand upon what I wished to bring, focused upon where in the tower I wished it to go, and used the teleportation spell to move it there. Soon my residence seemed a deal less empty, although it remained deliberately Spartan.

Having purchased enough food to last nearly a month using the very last of my money, I finally withdrew to the tower, securing my possessions in the vault. I now look forward to an uninterrupted period of training, and perhaps, in time, research – and the investigation of the mysteries surrounding the tower itself.

2006-05-12T00:14:00.000+01:00

21 - Victoria - The Road to Frostcrag Spire:

The deed paper held my attention, claiming I had 'inherited' Frostcrag Spire, an isolated wizards tower located to the far north of Cyrodiil. I had mixed thoughts regarding such distance – while I value solitude and security, it would surely be inconvenient to travel back and forth. Further, having explored northerly regions in the past, I am well aware of the inhospitable weather – and as the tower was unlikely to come with en suite stables it was likely that Shadow could not stay there, doubling the travel inconveniences. The closest town is Bruma, whose stables could be used, but it would be a compromising solution. Nevertheless, this tower was certainly worth investigating – I did, apparently, now own it – and it was always possible that I might find solutions to the difficulties I anticipated.

I had rested in the Arena Bloodworks for a time – it was a familiar place, and I was more confident of my safety there than I was sleeping at the Arcane University. Hopefully I will soon have the peace and security of a permanent residence however, and it was with this in mind that I left the Arena in mid afternoon, walking through the Palace gardens – which lay between the Arena and Talos Plaza, where the main gate could be found. It was the first time I had entered the 'Green Emperor Way', as it was named – and it was a refreshing change from the bustle of the market districts, with not a beggar in sight. Instead I was treated to the elegant but massive presence of the Imperial Tower, surrounded by green gardens, with gravestones dotting the lawns like teeth. Palace guards garbed in silver plate mail adorned with gold etchings stalked the pathways reverently, keen to maintain aesthetics as much as order, for few citizens were present. It was likely that following the assassination of the Emperor the level of protection had been stepped up, while idle visits were simultaneously discouraged.

As I exited into Telos Plaze rain began to fall, impelling those whose presence was not a duty into shelter, while the guards grumbled and muttered amongst themselves. Scattered words such as “rust” and “join the army they said, it's a man's life they said” were all that could be heard above the deluge – following the death of the emperor and his known heirs, morale was at an all time low. Of course I supposed it could yet get lower, that is if the prophesies of doom had any basis – although at least that would give the guards something to lay down their lives for, in a futile effort to prove their 'valour', ironically perhaps raising morale among them.

Leaving the main gates, I mounted Shadow, and we rode down the road and across the bridge. The weather combined with the presence of Lake Rumare contrived to lay a thin mist over the land – enough to cloak my movements perhaps, although it would do the same to any foes that lay in wait. However, I suspected that I would leave this humid climate, and its accompanying weather, behind as I climbed to the north of the land, turning now up the lake side path with the intent of ascending above Lake Rumare, and taking the Silver Road towards Bruma.

Upon leaving the Imperial City I had placed the greater part of my possessions in the Shadow's saddle bags, including all my ingredients (aside from the two Nirnroot I had found thus far), a number of the Welkynd stones (for emergency use), and of course the Stone of Miscarcand, which I kept ever close. The truth of the matter was that on top of the previously mentioned reasons for a residence, such as training and security, it would also prove useful as a location to secure valuable items which had no immediate use – chief among these being spare clothing, books, keys, and of course my alchemy equipment and reagents. Weighing down the fastest steed in the land with miscellaneous items seemed a great waste, and I intended to throw the saddle bags away for good upon securing permanent storage facilities.

Although this journey was intended so as to allow me to survey my property, and perhaps home, there was every chance I might have to pay for internal improvements – or a different residence if this proved inadequate. I had therefore determined that I would attempt to acquire as many valuables as I could carry while en route. Therefore instead of simply passing the ruins of Fort Empire I chose to investigate, to determine whether it was again inhabited (I had cleared it out on my last visit) – and perhaps scour it of wealth again, if it was. With this in mind I dismounted Shadow at the crumbling archway which had marked the periphery of the fort, and entered the interior of the ruins, having seen no signs of life while outside.

My eyes had barely began to adjust to the gloom when I felt as much as heard a movement behind me, and I dived to the right, my free hand instinctively moving to summon forth a lesser Atronach. It was fortunate that I did so, for it transpired that a troll, whom had gone previously unseen, had followed me in to the ruins. Trolls are stubborn foes, and while my minion took the greater share of the blows, I was still wounded in the conflict. Calling forth healing magic, I felt the influence of the restoration magic rushing down my body like a waterfall, painfully binding together torn flesh and flayed skin in a mere second of agony. This spell was of greater power than the variant with which I had emerged from the prison, but it was similar in that the healing was rushed, rather than working over a long duration. The lasting ache in my limbs was enough to lead me to set aside my previous bold intentions, and I therefore limited myself to a little scouting.

Descending to the base of the opening passage silently (the sounds of the fight having apparently drawn no attention), I hugged the wall and peered around, my detect life spell having already determined that two creatures were present, both some distance away. The closer of the two was a Troll, but I had no time for it, my attention instead being drawn to the shape drifting in the distance. It was as no creature I had seen before, my spell having established that it was indeed alive, despite looking more like a spell than a being with corporeal form. It was like a wisp of glowing mist, gliding above the ground in a swirl of glowing light – and senses other than my eyes prompted me to give it an examination of a different kind. Focussing my mind, I attempted to read into the thing before me. Such senses are best used in understanding magic, but proved particularly effective here – upon what appeared to simply be a form of malevolent living magicka. As I explored deeper my perception began to lose focus, but this itself was a clue as to the abilities of the wisp – it could drain mental and magical attributes. Shaking my head a little to clear it, I withdrew. Although I felt I could, through the use of spells and magical weapons, defeat this foe, that was not what I was here for. Besides, I needed all my wits about me for this journey, and didn't want them diminished in a pointless conflict. In time I would surely encounter one of its kind again, and use my newly trained skills against it, but for now that could wait.

Having given a detailed account of my short and tentative exploration of Fort Empire, I shall be brief regarding the following section of my journey. Riding along the path I encountered two bandits and a mountain lion before I arrived at the crossroads – the former proving stubborn, while the latter transpired to be extremely dangerous, its ripping claws leaving an ache despite and in consequence of the healing magic I was forced to use. I then paused for a time at the crossroads, exploring a small set of Elven ruins - for the second time, for I had been here some time ago. They had since been repopulated by bandits, and I again killed them all, claiming several sets of chainmail and mithril in the process. The only fight of particular note however was against the bandit ringleader, a female redgaurd. She was equipped with an enchanted shield and mace, and continued to target me despite the more immediate presence of my minion. For all that she died fairly quickly, and I departed the ruins with as much as I could carry unaided, including a number of Dwemer arrows.

The excess weight proved sufficient to slow our journey north, leading me to again hope for a time when I had a permanent storage location. Little of note occurred in this stage of the journey, although we came across an obelisk, glowing with a pale green light. I had seen similar structures in the past, but never from this close, and I recalling that the lecture I had passed at the Arcane University had been regarding such stones. Perhaps I would give them some study in the future, but for now the mounting cold impelled me to press onwards.

The road was relatively bare, with scattered camps marking the side of the path as we advanced from the east of Bruma, a chill now setting in. Ominously enough the camps I came across were completely deserted. Did those who use them only remain during the day? Or perhaps something had happened to them. Again however I chose not to pause to investigate, continuing onwards.

Frost clung to the grass and trees as we traversed the mountainous terrain, until after much path searching, I finally sighted Frostcrag Tower. In all honesty if I had not known its location in advance it is unlikely that anything short of a lengthy search would have found it – that in spite of its elevated position, providing a stunning view of much of Cyrodiil. The tower was circular, with steps leading up from its base, the peaks adorned by slowly spinning arcane ornamentation. Or inane decoration. It was hard to tell from here. As I approached rain began to fall, the chill of the location combined with this rising storm proving to create an almost unbearable, penetrating sensation. It was at times like this I wished I could control the weather... One thing was for certain however, Shadow could not survive long in such an exposed location, particularly due to the lack of grass – if it was present, then it was doubtless underneath several feet of ice. I would therefore have to be quick before I sent Shadow away – or indeed myself rode back.

Approaching the base of the tower, I ascended two flights of stairs, until I stood at the door - which appeared sealed. Drawing forth the deed of ownership from my robe, I pressed it against the entrance, while simultaneously speaking a basic word of opening. Such spells are not difficult, being more a statement of general intent as used in all unsealing spells – after which the specifics designed to defeat the locks are generally uttered. Such was unnecessary in this case, which was fortunate – as I judged that no spell alone would unseal this gate. The deed of ownership proved sufficient however, and the door yawned forth, providing an exit from the torrential downpour. With a final glance toward Shadow, who stood alone against the onslaught of the elements, I entered.

2006-05-07T23:05:00.000+01:00

20 - Victoria - Back to Square One:

The need to acquire more gold... it seemed a perpetual concern of mine. Unfortunately I had never been paid for any of my tasks for the Mages Guild, and the rewards for advancement in the Arena had proved pitiful. Looking back, the only serious income had occurred through the sale of items procured from ruins, and I realised it was this that I should now turn to. I was spoilt for choice considering the number of ruins I had rode past on my travels, but had no way to determine which possessed the greatest treasure. All tombs being equal, I now thought back to my exit from the sewers, upon escaping the prison. A ruin had lain across the lake there, and it was likely the closest. In addition, I was curious to see what would have awaited me had I ventured across immediately upon escaping the prison, rather than advancing to the Imperial City, as I had.

It would be quicker to exit the City by the road leading to the Prison, and Shadow would serve no purpose for such a short trip – especially considering the rough terrain, and the fact that I would have to travel across the lake. With no reason to wait, I began the walk to where I had first emerged, the lay of the land bringing back memories. Finally I stood above the grille from which I had exited, and looked down upon the pier, and the ruins across the lake. The only visible activity were a few mud crabs, which brought to mind my first act upon escaping – summoning a skeleton to kill a mudcrab. Doubtless such a fight would be even more one sided now, due to my ability to summon forth lesser Atronachs, but I now had no need to test the ability of my summon, and determined instead to cross the lake.

When I had emerged I had been wearing these same assassins robes, but there were noticeable differences between the me then and the me now. I have now regained the greater part of my strength, and recovered much of my arcane ability – a week or so of uninterrupted training would surely solve any remaining deficiencies. More obvious perhaps is the presence of new spells in my repertoire – for I crossed the lake using a spell of water walk, disdaining the cold and leaden weight of the water. It is a strange sensation, not like walking on ice (as people often imagine), but more as if walking upon silk being dragged across a slightly uneven surface. For all that it is not difficult to balance, at least on these calm waters, and at a mere walk.

The day was overcast, a low mist hanging over everything, probably a consequence of the presence of the lake. Such conditions suited me perfectly – a detect life spell highlighting the presence of bandits from beyond the range of simple sight. That is, I assumed they were bandits – as it is rare for any other type of person to hang around such a location – not that it mattered, whoever they were, I would kill them all the same. I wasn't here to exchange social niceties, simply to acquire wealth. Clearly the more efficient way to acquire valuable items is to let the bandits do the harvesting for you – they then collect it at one convenient location (in this case, here), and then I can collect it with minimal effort. Well, minimal travel effort anyway – the concentration of wealth generally correlated with the number of enemies defending it...

Crouching behind the low slung walls I summoned forth a Daedric bow – more deadly than any other bow I had yet possessed, and with no weight. Unfortunately you cannot summon arrows in a similar fashion – however they can generally be recovered from the remains of your target. Such was my intent in this case, allowing me to minimise the number I had to carry around. Leaning around the corner, I observed that the presences my spell had detected did indeed appear to be bandits, meaning that the law was unlikely to frown on my actions. They appeared to have established a minor camp on the surface of the ruins, including a pair of bed rolls with coverings hanging above to protect them from rain. Oddly enough one of them had a clove of Garlic hanging above it – were there vampires in the vicinity, or was the occupant simply paranoid? I supposed I might find out in due course, but I dismissed that train of thought for now, focussing upon my target.

A man. Hardly surprising, they seemed to be over represented within the bandit ranks. I doubted my upcoming actions would change the overall sex balance that much however, as I am an equal opportunity killer – meaning it is unlikely there will be proportional changes in the relative balance between bandit males and bandit females... He wore fur armour, while his companion stood a short distance away, himself clad in leather. An inauspicious start then, for neither article was likely to fetch a price worth speaking of, but I would have to kill them all the same – I currently lack a spell of invisibility, and would have to go through them to enter the ruins. Besides, it made good target practise.

The first arrow was also the last as far as the fur clad bandit was concerned, as he fell chocking, the silver arrow lodged in his throat. Considering idly that the silver in his throat would provide protection from werewolves, complimenting the existing herbal ward against vampires, I turned to his friend. Well...former friend anyway, although they would be reunited soon enough – whether such would be a meaningful turn of phrase remained to be seen, but not by me.

As my bow evaporated in my hands I summoned forth my flame Atronach, allowing her to deal with the remaining foe. I suppose being consumed by fire could be considered a cruel way to die, but at least it was a swift death – relative to the earlier bandit at least, who still lay choking, as his friend's corpse swiftly ceased struggling and began to smoulder. His armour would have even less worth now, scorched as it was, and I turned to my earlier target, his eyes staring at me desperately, pleadingly. I approached, running my hands over his shuddering frame. Unfortunately he possessed nothing of value, besides the silver lodged in his throat. That at least was easily recovered, and I tore it forth with a twist, a bubbling exhalation accompanying it from its previous owner. Wiping the arrow upon the grass I turned towards the entrance to the ruins, hauled the doors open, and entered.

As with earlier Elven ruins, illumination was provided by glowing stones, casting a chill light upon the cold stones. The upper levels contained only bandits, however I was in luck – the occupants wearing chainmail armour, and Mithril. Such should sell for a good price, and indeed I even considered wearing it myself for a moment. However doing so would obstruct my casting abilities, as I was relatively untrained in its use, and I therefore simply secured it for later sale. Besides this I collected a number of items, none of singular note, but all of which would provide at least some income – aside from the Welkyd stones, which I again chose to keep.

The deeper I delved into the ruins the colder it became, until at last I saw no more bandits – and began to suspect that the lower levels might be populated by the undead. Would a detect life spell illuminate them, being dead as they were? The answer seemed to be a yes, as I perceived the lumbering shapes of zombies and skeletons through the thick stone walls. Perhaps here even greater treasures would be hid, and while I had been forced to use a relieve burden spell, I still thirsted for more. Indeed this spell of relief proved of some irritation during my exploration, as I had to recast it every couple of minutes before it wore off. Here clearly was another spell I had to create at the University Alters – a longer lasting and greater magnitude spell of relieve burden.

The undead proved more fearsome opponents, absorbing large amounts of damage before finally collapsing in a heap. Indeed I found that headless zombies seemed to be tougher than their more complete counterparts – perhaps a selective process caused this, although it threw aside the myth that only damage to a zombies head would kill it. I myself consider fire to be the most deadly tool – and employed it both myself, and via my summoned servants.

The lowest level of the ruins contained a number of traps, including pressure plates which released more undead guardians. However the most notable trap proved to be a large section of floor, which would fall away into a spike pit following pressure. Fortunately I had perceived it, using it instead against the mindless undead who advanced upon me, however it was clear that something was being protected. It was here that frustration struck – I came up against doors which I could not unseal, lacking both the spells and ability to do so. Such was another cause for my need to train, and acquire a residence to do so within. It was clear then that I could advance no further, and I reluctantly began the ascension.

The most valuable fruits of my labour were a pair of enchanted gauntlets (the "Infiltrators Gauntlets"), and a Dwarven Claymore (which had weighed me down significantly). Having returned to the city proper, I sold both at the Fighting Chance, along with the armour I had acquired, and any other items I felt welling to sell. Ultimately the sale increased my wealth to forty seven hundred gold – just shy of the quantity needed to secure the purchase of the Manor I had been considering. The slight shortfall didn't concern me greatly, I felt confident that I could acquire such an amount during the long journey to the west.

However as I was about to head for the city gates, and my horse, I heard footsteps behind me. It was an Apprentice from the Arcane University, judging from the green robes and naive expression. He bore a scroll which he handed to me wordlessly, before departing as swiftly as he had appeared. Cautious, I probed the paper with my native magical perception, wary of any traps as might have been implanted by Raminus Polus, or those of a like mind.

Detecting nothing, I at last opened the scroll, scanning the page in a swift glance. It was unexpected, in that it claimed I had inherited a property, but expected in that it was surely a trap. However, the fact that it was a Wizard Tower caught my attention, perhaps I will talk into this trap with eyes open, it would certainly prove a fitting residence...

2006-04-28T03:36:00.000+01:00

19 - Victoria - An Unwelcome Welcome:

Before I visited the Arcane University I entered the Main Ingredient, selling the potions I had recently found or created – which amounted to fourteen potions, or three hundred gold. I then moved on to A Fighting Chance, where I sold any spare armour I had, in addition to the collected pelts. Finally I sold on the enchanted mace I had acquired from the bandit back on the road; it was a mace of dispel – and sold for two hundred gold. I had, of course, charmed the shopkeeper. Perhaps he should hit himself with it so as to be able to charge me more in future?

Returning now to Ogier Georick of the Main Ingredient, I purchased all ingredients he possessed which cost under ten gold, I was interested to see if I could earn a profit despite having purchased the reagents rather than simply acquiring them. Having entered with just over sixteen hundred gold, I spent just under four hundred on these ingredients.

Laying out my alchemy apparatus in the shop, as has become a habit, I considered the potential potion combinations. Although I was in part doing this for the money, it will also further my skills in alchemy - and I expected the large quantity of items to allow for a wide range of concoctions. The work was long and tiring, as I perceived more combinations than I had anticipated, and ultimately I was left with seventy four potions – created both from the items I had bought, and items I had already owned but could not use before. During the process I felt I had made a great deal of progress in understanding, however I didn't make any breakthroughs – I'm still no expert. Once again I charmed Ogier, and ultimately sold my creations for sixteen hundred gold in total; a very pleasing sum. With his stock now depleted it will be some time before I can purchase raw ingredients in such quantity from him, however it is clear that following the advancement of my skills, and the acquisition of higher quality equipment, I should be able to secure a reasonable income from alchemy alone. The work left me tired, and as it was now late in the day I decided to rest in the Arena Blookworks, the clamour of training proving insufficient to prevent me falling into a deep slumber.

Rising with the dawn, I had no intention of undertaking any Arena fights right now, that would wait until I had trained – and created some more effective and powerful spells. The Arcane University prevailed, and I had no intention of waiting any longer. Unfortunately, upon crossing to the building, I discovered the scholars were yet to rise – or at least yet to arrive at their posts, and I therefore walked the gardens for a time, until at last I noted the beginnings of activity. Again entering the main reception area, where I finally found Raminus Polus – who was to provide me entry to the University.

"I have heard a lot about you Associate" he began, clearly having recognised me from report.

Biting back the banal "Only good things I hope", I remained silent, eyeing him coldly. I had not come this far to bandy words with the door man, if he had a point to make he would have to make it himself. He waited for me to speak, but when it was clear I would not do so he spoke again, this time his tone more guarded.

"...Indeed, I have heard a great deal about your...progress, since you recently resurfaced."

Again I remained silent, although I began to suspect I knew the undertones of the conversation – and perhaps the underlying cause for at least one of my past tasks.

"And still you do not speak? Silent...but then that's to be expected for an...assassin" He hissed the last word, his eyes narrowing.

"I did of course hear rumour of your appearance many weeks ago, although I had hoped that they would prove false. Indeed I had hoped your accursed cult had gone the way of your late master!"

He spat the last word, evidently aiming to provoke a reaction – an opportunity I would not provide in the University foyer, being currently of so low a rank as to expect no real assistance.

Never the less, behind my expressionless mask my mind raced. It was clear that he knew some of my past – I suppose it had been to much to hope that no one would remember. Indeed, I suspected that he might have been involved in the operation against us itself...there had, after all, been a distinct magical element to the attack. However, I have no time for such recollections now – and neither did I wish to fight him here and now, so I knew I must speak.

"I really don't know what you're talking about" I replied blandly, affecting a complete lack of concern

"The reason I am here is to claim entry to this University, not to deal with imagined feuds and slander" I kept my tone light, but it was clear that my words hit home, his eyes burning. Yet he to was bound by the location, and could not act overtly against me.

"Very well...Apprentice" he finally said, "for that is indeed your new rank", he gave a mock bow. "I do so hope your tasks will prove to be safe and uneventful, although from what I hear you don't drown easily", his eye twitched. "Well, let's start with a simple task shall we, no danger, surely", he dragged the last word, "Every Apprentice needs a staff, and we use wood from a very special place....guarded of course", he gave a sly smile, tossing over a green enchanted robe and a map, upon which the location I should visit was marked, "We welcome you to the University, good day", with this ironic comment complete, he turned and walked away.

The gates to the University proper would open for me now, and I entered, my mind occupied by the recent conversation. How much of the dangers in the tasks given to me lately had been Polus' work? I suspected that the ring of burden quest might have been, although surely they underestimated me there if they thought that would kill me. Beyond that I can't be certain, and I don't want to end up paranoid, like that creep Glarthir. I pushed these thought to the side for now, taking in the surroundings my work had earned me. Mage scholars conversed, while Apprentices scurried about their activities – all wearing a green robe of the type I had been given (I had chosen to remain in my assassin's robes). Looking to my left as I walked the path, I saw a lecture taking place – with a number of Apprentices sat on benches outside.

I will have to pay attention to one of these lectures at some point, when I have the time, and the inclination. Right now my intent was both to explore the vicinity, and to create some training spells. Fortunately the halls of spellmaking turned out to be the first room I explored, which included a number of golden alters, each ornately decorated with golden leaves. A pair of candles was affixed to either side, and I wondered if they acted as a catalyst for the process, although there was no way no tell here, short of removing one of them. Certainly they helped me, as I allowed my gaze to lose focus, staring into the burning light, almost as in a trance. From here I formed a mental image of what I wished to create, imagining the spell element which I wanted to use, and then coaxing it into form. It was not a difficult task for me, although this may be in part simply due to the simplicity of the cantrips I was creating. I made one for every school magic, designing each of them to be effective for training even when I am alone. For a spell casting to increase the experience of the caster it has to have a target, and an actual effect, and this forced me to create a destruction spell that hurt me – in this case a fire spell. Although my native Breton resistance to magic will in part protect me, the training sessions may initially prove painful – however I will likely pair this with my cantrip of Restoration, restoring my health. Aside from candles (which didn't seem to get used up in any way), the alters of spellmaking consumed gold – indeed I suspect a spell of great magnitude or complexity might consume a larger sum, however in this case the spells were cheap to create.

Besides the hall of spellmaking there was a guard tower, a hall of enchanting (which I had no need for right now), an alchemy lab, and the Mystic Archives – basically a library. Scanning their inventory, one particular entry caught my eye – the Story of the Beggar Prince, which suggests that beggars know a great deal more than they let on. Hardly a feat, when they appear to know nothing more than how to annoy people...

I have also heard others say that the Gray Fox is popular with the poor...and indeed that the Beggars may act as the eyes of the Thieves Guild (those who believe it exists that is) – and therefore befriending a beggar may be the best method to track down the Gray Fox, and gain entry into the guild.

The final room I entered was the training halls, where Apprentices cast spells, most commonly of destruction, upon wooden targets. Perhaps they fail to appreciate that skill development is far slower without a true target, but I had no cause to enlighten them. Let them stay weak, I have no cause for complaint.

Although I had originally intended to create a number of custom high magnitude spells, I now decided to postpone this until I had acquired a residence. With the unfriendly presence of Polus in mind, I was now particularly keen on acquiring a place to call home – where I could also train in peace. However, I had barely over half the five thousand gold required to purchase the cheapest residence I had considered, and knew I must acquire and sell some items. It was unfortunate that I have found no housing truly befitting myself, yet I will keep my eyes open. My path is clear then, I shall build up my finances so I can establish myself in a permanent residence, and from here train – and then finally create my own spells, before establishing a foundation for myself across all the guilds. The coming months are likely to be no less eventful than the proceeding...

2006-04-20T17:54:00.000+01:00

18 - Victoria - The Road to the Arcane University:

I had no further business to attend to in Leyawiin, bar the sale of the miscellanies goods I had acquired, and with this in mind I headed for the 'Best Goods and Guarantees' – a shop run by the Bosner Gundalas. Although I doubted I would receive all that much coin for what I was selling, I nevertheless charmed him with my spell of beguiling touch, allowing me to achieve better prices. I sometimes wonder why people don't just use charm all the time, it certainly seems swift and effective, although the former is likely the reason it isn't so widely used – a couple of minutes is the longest you can expect the spell to last. The only items I wished to dispose of were a silver dagger, and a number of potions which I had found (as opposed to created – it seemed my riding had left me with far fewer reagents, as I had feared), and the sale of these increased my gold reserves from just under nine hundred to slightly over one thousand – better than nothing I suppose, but that staff at Rindir's will clearly have to wait. With this task out of the way I departed the town gate, mounted Shadow, and rode north. The weather was clear initially, although pleasantly cool – in part due to the moderating influence of a number of deep lakes in the vicinity.

I had departed Leyawiin at slightly before three in the afternoon, but within moments the sky had darkened – and the hills rumbled ominously. Obviously despite the prior promise of a clear day, my ride was likely to be a dark affair – and the rain began to fall heavily. The weather was the least of my concerns however, as I have said before I don't particularly mind storms – they can be rather exhilarating, rather my mind was focussed upon riding carefully, for the road was teeming with unfriendly creatures and bandits. Within but a few minutes I passed wolves, rats, bandits and deer – I was, fortunately, faster than them all, although it took a time for the chasing wolves to finally fall behind. In all these instances I avoided combat, wishing instead to make good time to Bruma, and attain my final guild reference – further, with the quantity of foes upon the road there was a chance I might be overwhelmed.

As the evening began to set in I encountered a group of goblins upon the road, in addition to a large black bear, which I again avoided. It seems I shall have to train myself to deal with these new and greater threats, although it is possible that this road is simply more dangerous than those I had travelled earlier. By this point I was on a similar latitude to the Imperial City, and it rose into view on my west as I rode – it seemed unlikely that I would reach Bruma before the night had fallen, but I had no intention of stopping at an inn or to rest.

The road remained dangerous even to the north of Lake Rumare, however here it was at least patrolled by mounted Imperial guards, and I encountered them fighting wolves and bears in two separate instances – and in both cases I waited the fight out, before taking the furs for myself - as I planned to sell them. Now above Lake Rumare, I joined the silver road leading north, the air now positively chilled, in part doubtless due to the onset of the night, however having been to Cloud Top I was well aware that the north of Cyrodiil seemed of a colder climate than the south. It was upon this road that I again passed a bandit, however judging from the purple glow emanating from the Khajiit's mace, it was enchanted, and I decided to dismount and claim it for myself – as it would likely sell for a high price. Unfortunately upon dismounting a trio of wolves ran from the woods onto the road, assaulting myself and Shadow. It was at this point that I discovered Shadow's previously unknown combat abilities, as he killed the wolves while I dealt with the highwayman. It seems he can take care for himself, which is pleasing – as to lose a horse that cost me five thousand gold would be a tad depressing.

The mace was indeed enchanted, and I judged its true worth to stand at slightly under half a thousand gold, although I doubted I would meet a shopkeeper willing to pay such. Nevertheless the stop had been instructive, if not particularly lucrative, and I again mounted Shadow, and rode north. The air was definitely getting colder, and as I finally caught sight of Bruma it began to snow, my robes fortunately protecting me from the chill.

I didn't investigate the town extensively, for not only was the snow yet falling, but the long ride had left me weary. I therefore made a bee line for the local mages guild, a building constructed of wood – although it looked a great deal better than Bravil's exemplar. Entering, I ascended some stairs to find a room – however it appeared to be the residence of the ranking guild head, and I therefore departed, choosing instead to sleep in the living quarters in the lower levels. It was by now just before eleven in the evening, and I stayed a bed till just after nine, enjoying a dreamless sleep.

The room I had occupied also played host to a number of alchemical ingredients, and I took these for myself – perhaps it would make up a little for the items I had passed as I rode. Being a member of the guild I don't think its exactly illegal for me to take them, but as no one was in sight it hardly mattered – it wasn't like I was planning to sell them in their current form. Leaving the room, I soon encountered the guild head – a Breton lady by the name of Jeanne Frasoric – and she told me my task – to find a missing individual; one J'skar. Judging from the name my target was a Khajiit, but with no further leads I determined to ask around the guild hall for information.

The first person I encountered was a cheerful Altmer named Volanaro, who I charmed before approaching. Such seems to be a habit for me, but I suspect he would have been pleasant enough even without its influence. He implied that he knew where I could find J'skar, but asked that I first retrieve, that is - steal, a manual of spellcraft from Jeanne. I knew where her room was (having wandered in the previous night), and although Volanaro offered to provide me with a spell of unlocking, it was far weaker than those I possessed, and I politely declined. Her room was unoccupied, and I found the book easily enough, although it seemed surprisingly basic in content, certainly when you consider it was owned by an 'Arch-Magister'. Volanaro had mentioned that he enjoyed practical jokes, and I suspected now that J'skar's disappearance may simply be another prank at Jeanne's expense. In that case the task should be simple enough to complete, as considering her lack lustre abilities at spell casting it was quite possible that the cat is simply wandering the halls invisible.

Returning to Volanaro, he thanked me for the stolen manual, and said he would meet me in the living quarters at ten in the evening, to show me J'skar. It was now late morning, but I had no particular desire to explore the town for now – particularly in the cold, and therefore I determined to practise my spellcraft in the living quarters while waiting for Volanaro. I also wished to see if I were correct in my suspicions regarding J'skar, and so upon entering the living quarters I cast a spell of detect life. It was here that I noticed the spell highlighting an otherwise empty space – obviously an invisible occupant was present. However I did not approach, preferring rather to appear ignorant and hold the card up my sleeve – as I have said before, I prefer others to underestimate me.

I spent until ten in the evening practising my basic summon spells, while occasionally resting to recover my strength and take a break, for training is a draining process. At last however I felt myself to be an expert in the field of conjuration – and spells which had previously been of great cost to my magical reserves were now significantly less costly. I now looked forward to the cantrips I would create and use for training that I could acquire in the Arcane University – as I have said before, my intention now is to become expert in all magical fields, while attaining a permanent residence befitting me.

My thoughts were disrupted by the entry of Volanaro, and the invisible individual – as again revealed by my detect life spell. Nevertheless I affected surprise when a dispel spell from Volanaro revealed J'skar – who was indeed a Khajiit; I suppose the cat races native stealth skills kept him unheard during this prank. He didn't mind me informing Jeanne, which was handy, as I would have told her anyway. She seemed a little distracted – likely by the loss of her book, but provided the guild reference as she had said she would. At last the road to the Arcane University stood open.

Once again I spent the night at the guild, this time considering the guild halls. They seemed extremely unprofessional to me, and while I had been told that the power of the guild rested at the Arcane University, I hoped this was not merely comparative power – for the vast majority of reference quests had amounted to petty games and vendettas. I wondered now if it had always been this way, or indeed if many applicants simply gave up on attaining entry to the guild – or had been killed from stupid demands, such as to collect a ring of burden from a well. My sleep was disturbed this night however, for in my dreams a bright light shone upon me, and I felt myself begin to lose substance. The light was bright, harsh, and above all cold – and it seemed familiar, yet I was woken by the rise of the residents of the mages guild before it became clear, and I was merely left with a sense of unease. This was not sufficient to slow my plans, and I immediately departed the guild hall, exited the main gate, mounted Shadow (who had been cared for by the local stables) and rode south.

The weather was clear but chill, until I at last approached the upper edge of Lake Rumare, where the sun at last warmed me. I avoided all hostile encounters, instead making all haste to the Imperial City, meaning at times I was being chased by a number of foes. So it was that as I reached the Wawnet Inn, which marked the bridge into the Imperial City, I noted a wolf was on my tail. Realising that there would be guards stationed outside the main gate I simply rode across the bridge, the wolf in pursuit, until at last I reached the main gate, where the sentry obliged in swift order, adding an additional pelt to my collection.

After weeks of travel and petty task, I have at last attained access to the Arcane University, where I can at last begin to progress through the ranks. However as I have said before, I intend to join all guilds before making particular progress in one, and therefore following the sale of my items, and entry into the University, I must at last consider how I can find the Grey Fox – surely the head of the Thieves Guild, if it does indeed exist, in addition to considering an individual to murder – and so gain me a visit from the Dark Brotherhood. Before this however I shall gain my staff, and further train my arcane skills, and finally – acquire a residence. I feel I have put that off long enough.

2006-04-07T23:23:00.000+01:00

17 - Victoria - Fort Blueblood:

The only remaining guild hall specialising in a school of magic was Leyamiin, which according to the guild book, concerned itself with mysticism. Of all the schools of magic mysticism lacks appeal to me, at least at this stage; the only practical spell I can use right now is soul trap, which would suffice for the time being. Nevertheless, I decided to make Leyamiin my next stop, despite it being located in the far south, while I was currently to the extreme north.

I didn't think Earana would have anything further to say of use, while it might be better to avoid the Argonian guild head for now – as he would likely suspect me of stealing his book. There was no point in waiting, or re-entering Chorrol, and I rode towards the Imperial City –which lay directly between here and Leyamiin.

The rain continued unabated, and despite my desire to claim what would be the second to last guild reference, I was becoming weary; and decided to spend the night at the Wawnet Inn – the place I have rested the most, besides the guild halls, and of course the Arena Bloodworks. I arrived at nine, although the whole day had seemed like late evening – the overcast sky casting a dreary light over the surroundings. Leaving the rain behind me I entered, purchased a room, and settled in for the night.

I rose at seven, a long road still ahead of me, seeming all the longer with the continuing deluge. I supposed that the flagstones must be slippery, but Shadow seemed to have no difficulty remaining steady, and we soon passed the bridge between the Imperial City and Bravil.

From here the road threaded south past Bravil, eventually arriving at Leyamiin, but I would again pass the Inn of Ill Omen before approaching Bravuk. However before I approached even this point I came across a bandit fighting a Khajiit, the latter dressed in a green flowing robe. The Khajiit seemed to be getting the worse of the encounter, and began to flee - I took this as my cue to intervene, disposing of the bandit quickly. Again however no reward was offered for the rescue, and I began to wonder if there was really any point helping in situations such as this. The bandit lacked any equipment of value, besides a war hammer, which I took – riding south once more

I had no intention of resting at the Inn of Ill Omen again, even if I had been tired, and thus ignored it – despite the continuing rain. Travelling as I was, I soon approached Bravil – previously the southernmost point of my travels, this being at ten o clock. I chose not to enter, riding the road further south. The land here, that being along the Green Road, is low lying and heavy with vegetation, but this is to be expected considering it lies alongside the Niben - the river that flows from Lake Rumare. The rain began to ease as I approached Legawiin, the journey having been uneventful – the only encounters of note being the passing of such scattered hamlets as the aptly named 'Water's Edge'.

Legawiin is a large and well build town, most buildings expansive and in good repair – however it is perhaps a little bland. I had arrived slightly after mid-day; once again I chose not to explore extensively at this point, and immediately sold the hammer I had claimed – in addition to my steel bow and iron arrows – at 'The Dividing Line', before replacing my sold iron arrows with steel replacements. From here I left, swiftly finding the guild hall, where I replaced my alembic and pestle & mortar with a better quality varient, leaving me with barely a couple of hundred gold. It is clear that I will have to explore a number of the ruins which I have rode past to regain my fortunes.

Enquiring regarding the recommendation I required, a dour man named Kalthar informed me that Dagail was the guild head, but thought that I might have some difficulty attaining what I desired. Having tracked down Dagail, an elderly female Altmer, I found that she seemed...confused. My task then seemed to be to cure her state through retrieving an item to protect her sanity from these intrusions. Agata, Degails assistant, suggested that I ask around the guild hall to see if any members could suggest where I could find an item that would treat Dagail. Returning again to Kalthar, he appeared to have a surprisingly vocal negative opinion of Dagail, although he also seemed to know a great deal of her history – including that her father had suffered from a similar affliction, and had died while in the Imperial Legion. Agata suggested that perhaps the body of Degails father held with it an item which she could use to maintain her sanity; she thought that the body might lie in a nearby Imperial Fort. Grave robbing it was then then... or at least it would be if the father had even been buried – Kalthar had implied that he had not.

I left immediately and explored the region, at last coming across Fort Blueblood, which I suspected contained the corpse, if I could indeed simply find it. Besides a bandit, no human remains could be found outside among the ruins, and I suspected that the body likely lay at the bottom of the interior complex.

The interior was dim, and rather similar to Fort Empire, unsurprisingly. Bandits appeared to be the only occupants, although of a particularly hardly type; every second one I met seemed to be a battlemage of some kind. I do wonder at how popular being a battlemage seems to be, I suppose they feel they are getting the best of both combat and magic, however in my opinion they gain neither – simply remaining competent and nothing better in both fields. In addition, to all but a master the armour limits casting ability, while simultaneously robbing the caster of all attempts at subtlety. I cleared the area as I progressed using my usual style – an arrow from the shadows, before calling forth my Atronach, and then dealing destructive damage of my own while it fought, stepping in myself when I deemed it necessary

It was in doing this that I felt I made a breakthrough in the arts of destruction, and was finally capable of casting my newest spell – Finger of the Mountain. It appeared effective, killing the first bandit it hit. However I find it extremely draining to use, and after a time reverted to my lightning touch. Contact spells deal more damage at less cost, and I am as yet not sufficiently skilled to cast more than a few ranged spells in a short time period. That said, there are certain benefits, for example one dullard was hit by three consecutive ranged spells, and yet still failed to see me hiding in the shadows.

Continuing downwards, I entered a large chamber in which I was required to fight a number of bandits simultaneously. A careful endeavour, made all the more so by the expensive Dwarven armour and sword used by one of the marauders, however upon their fall I realised that this might be the greatest reward of the search – I could sell the items and recover a quantity of my spent gold. The armour was however, rather heavy, and I was forced to cast aside any heavy and relatively inexpensive items – such as steel armour – in addition to casting relieve burden upon myself.

Advancing again, I now encountered a new enemy, a Troll. It was a short, brutish creature, its skin appearing hairy, while its limbs ended in vicious claws. I was extremely cautious, as I had yet to fight such a creature, and was unused of its abilities.

Retreating before it, I summoned my flame Atronach to give battle, simultaneously joining the fight with my own magic and bound Daedric dagger. For all its powerful appearance, the conflict was one sided, the Troll falling before me. It was soon after this that I came upon the chamber at the base of the ruins, which as I had hoped contained a number of coffins. Opening the most exposed of these revealed the amulet I had been searching for – obviously this then was the remains of Degails father. However it was at this moment I heard footsteps behind me, and I turned abruptly – for there stood Kalthar.

He appeared on edge and aggressive, and indeed informed me that it had been he who had taken Degails amulet – in the hope that her deranged state would lead to his advancement and departure. He felt he could not let me take this replacement item back to her, and drew his dagger upon me. I was unimpressed; for a mage to seek conflict at close quarters they should ensure they have potent contact spells, yet this was one thing which he appeared to lack, and he soon fell before me – his corpse revealing little of value, aside from a key – which I hoped might in time be the catalyst for the acquisition of such.

This achieved, I returned swiftly to Legawiin, entering the mages guild – however as it was now night, and I took to bed, spending until midday in sleep. Awakaning, I tracked down Degail – the amulet had a marked effect. At once her speech changed from incomprehensible, mildly deranged and directionless to mildly comprehensible, barely deranged speech - and with a vague sense of direction. She awarded me my recommendation, and I left via the door – seeking the sale of my recent loot, and the acquisition of the final guild reference.

2006-04-05T22:05:00.000+01:00

16 - Victoria - The Finger of the Mountain:

There was no point in waiting, and I was impatient to get this task behind me; however on my way out of Bravil I encountered Hemantier again, surprisingly he had nothing to say beyond passing on the latest rumours – that some thought the Arch-Mage was using the guild to his own ends. Someone in Cyrodiil has some intelligence then, although his fears of necromancy seemed irrational. However I bit back upon a mocking comment regarding the value of the reward Hemantier had given me – for having checked through the scrolls they appeared practically worthless. No matter, that had not been why I had undertaken the task, and it was this end – the recommendation – which drove me now.

Shadow had waited patiently, and seemed eager to be off; perhaps the ride will shake off the shackles of failure. It was now evening, and I had some thought of stopping at the Inn which I had passed part way between here and the Imperial City, but that had yet to come. Leaping lightly upon Shadows back, I urged him onward – for I too was looking forward to leaving this dreary town behind me for a time, my visit had hardly been the most successful in memory; and my inability to master the spells on offer still rankled.

The road was steep, yet once again we outpaced bandits and wolves, until we finally reached the Inn I had been considering at around mid night. Leaving Shadow outside I entered; the sign reading the Inn of Ill Omen. It certainly appeared ill favoured, yet I handed over the ten gold for a bed all the same, before proceeding to my room.

'Room' seemed a rather generous description, for upon ascending I discovered that my ten gold had merely earned me what could best be described as a dank cupboard, a pile of sheets upon the floor; presumably for sleeping in. It was smaller than my cell had been, worse however, from the smell one might almost think that the rooms previous occupants had mistaken this for a latrine – an easy mistake to make considering the meagre size. One thing was certain, I would not spend the night here – I would rather lie under the open stars than demean myself in this place, and I left within moments. One day I am determined to return and make the name all the more fitting, but I was loath to waste time now, once again calling Shadow and setting forth.

The ride was peaceful and uninterrupted, until we finally reached the Wawnet Inn at the base of the bridge leading in to the Imperial City. Everywhere in the city would be closed at this time, and I was weary, so it required no great justification to enter and pay for the second bed of the night – again ten gold. Pausing only to inform the land lady that I had yet to acquire her precious Shadowbane wine, I headed to my room. While Spartan, it was at least clean, and I remained here until the morning.

It would be pointless to rise earlier than nine, the streets would be empty, and I therefore chose that time to depart, riding Shadow across the great bridge without hurry. I had no further business to take care of right now, for I lacked the money to purchase the staff I desired, and I had already bought what spells I would want.

The Dunmer who possessed Ardalines staff, Soris Arenim, was not difficult to find, for he dwelt in Talos Plaze, into which the main gates lead. I didn't bother to engage him in conversation until I had charmed him – why waste the effort. This done, he did indeed have the staff, but would not simply return it, requesting two hundred gold instead. I took the offer immediately, handing over the Septims and taking the staff – a staff of charm as it turned out. I may make back half of this through the sale of the remaining charm scrolls I received from Ked-Ei - which have gone unused; but I would happily pay two hundred gold for each reference, if only for the convenience. It is unfortunate that the guild heads would not simply accept a bribe and be done. However my brief time in the City was up, and I rode back to Bravil with all haste, keen to leave this tiresome task behind me and claim the fourth of the seven references.

Once more Shadows speed made a mockery of all attempts to engage us, and we rode without pause, despite a nagging desire to express my feelings to the land lord of the Inn of Ill Omen. The road now had a number of travellers, including several horsemen, however they were coming the other way, and merely cantering - so I only saw them in passing. None of their horses was of the Cheydinhal breed, and so I had no fear of them catching up with me, if indeed that had any such intent. Arriving at Bravil just after mid day, I approached Ked-Ei with the staff, and she expressed her gratitude, rewarding me with my reference, and a spell of charm. The charm is weak, and while some think it may be 'the thought that counts' – such a pathetic spell from the head of a guild hall specializing in illusion seems to me to be a tacit insult. I made no comment upon this however, instead swiftly departing, with the intent of arriving at Chorrol before the sun had set.

Chorrol was both the centre for the school of conjuration, and the location where the long neglected Jauffre could be found. However if I had my way he would be neglected for some time to come, I planned to simply avoid meeting him while acquiring my reference. I had a great deal of progress to make before I finally met him, and would do so on my own terms, although he would presumably be expecting me.

The destruction of Kvatch had served at least one purpose – it meant one less reference to collect, if indeed there had ever been a mages guild there; if so they had failed miserably at dealing with the threat. That said, no school of magic seemed unaccounted for elsewhere, leaving only the possibility of it having been the centre for necomancy, which would have been shut down by the arch-mages directive as a matter of course.

Riding now I encountered a pair of horses galloping the same way as I; a lady and her guard – however again the horses were of a lesser breed. Still, this served as a chance to compare speeds, and as I expected I soon overtook and left them behind – clearly the extra money spent had been worthwhile. Reaching the short bridge between Bravil and Lake Rumare I heard fighting, and glancing to my right, I observed a well dressed woman fighting a bandit – I leapt from my horse and approached. The woman appeared to be putting up a spirited fight, although it seemed likely to me that she would lose eventually. I watched for a short time, before their fight carried them closer to the waters edge, and I chose to intervene. To join the fight at a later point would have forced me to enter the water, which I didn't feel like – and it was always possible the woman would die soon at this rate. The bandit didn't see me approach, or indeed anything thereafter, and I cast his body into the lake, the current driving it away.

The lady was the Countess Alessia Caro, certainly the kind of person it would be well to befriend, and I walked beside her for a time – now wearing the rich clothes I had claimed from the Brina Cross murderess. She offered no thanks, and indeed I was beginning to tire of her company when we encountered a Scamp, announcing itself with a poorly aimed fireball. Once more I dealt with her assailant, and once more she offered no thanks, frustrated, I headed back to Shadow once more. I was clearly wasting my time protecting this lady cum danger magnet.

Upon riding past her I immediately passed a wild boar, it would have been interesting to see if she was up to the challenge of defeating it alone - after her injuries at the hand of the bandit, but I suppose if I find a corpse upon returning here then that will attest regarding the outcome. Until that time I can entertain the pleasant notion that the rude countess might be boar feed – and indeed this amused me throughout much of the journey, until as the evening set in I came upon Chorrol.

I am certain that if a merchant would remain open during the night they would gain a great deal of business, but unfortunately none seem enterprising, and so I spent the night at the mages guild, as had become a habit. Come the morning I sold the scrolls I had acquired; unfortunately I had been correct in my estimation of the scrolls value, the two spare charm scrolls provided one hundred gold in total, while the remainder (as provided by Hemantier) sold for a mere forty gold, pathetic.

At least here in Chorrol the mages guild actually looked impressive, as opposed the the poor showing in Bravil, and I spent a time talking with the residents and buying such spells of conjuration as appeared useful. The spell of bound bow would allow me to travel lighter than ever, while conjuring a weapon of greater ability than any I had yet encountered. In addition to this I purchased a summoning spell, allowing me to call forth a Flame Atronach. I was curious to observe it, and called it forth right there at the centre of the guild hall. It certainly seems more impressive than my zombie minion, burning brightly, a constant hiss rising from its flesh.

I looked forward to seeing it in combat, but then realised that I could discover its abilities even here - through fighting it myself. With this in mind, I stepped up behind it, slashing it with my dagger repeatedly, until it at last turned upon me. As it raised an arm to summon forth a fireball I suddenly realised that the entire population of the guild hall had rushed into the room to aid me in the fight, despite no such request by myself. It is perhaps fortunate that none were significantly injured in the fight, however their intrusion had prevented me accurately assessing its abilities. I supposed that would have to wait until I was somewhere more isolated, or at least encountered an enemy.

The final set of spells I bought were those of summoned armour, which appeared particularly impressive. Unfortunately I had to conjure each piece individually, which was hardly convenient – I would have to create a spell combining them all upon my entry to the Arcane University. However despite the purchase I had no intention of using this armour any time soon, for I am as yet unskilled in armoured combat, and further despite being weightless it would still limit my casting abilities. However I knew that in time it would be both a powerful asset, and further might serve to hide my identity, certainly I felt my conjured Daedric armour differed markedly from my unremarkable robes.

The guild head for Chorrol is again an Argonian, this time a male by the name of Teekeeus. My task is to get rid of an Altmer by the name of 'Earana', who he says is claiming he is abusing his power as a guild head. However as my hopes began to rise – thinking that this might be the chance to 'kill two birds with one stone' I had been hoping for, and gain entry to the Dark Brotherhood – I was informed that I should achieve her departure through finding what she wanted, and giving it to her. A slightly strange request in my mind, particularly as Teeteeus seemed to dislike her intensely, however I suspected that this would not be as simple as it was initially presented.

Earana happened to be immediately outside the guild hall, wandering the streets, and I walked up to her and engaged her in conversation – this time without bothering with a charm spell. She appeared to think I was different from the rest of the guild, and I encouraged such a train of thought in the hope of furthering my own ends, certainly it is not a lie however. It seemed she did indeed want something that she thought I could provide, a book as it happened, named 'Finger of the Mountain', which I could find at 'Cloud Top'. The location seemed likely to be apt, for it was high in the mountains north of Chorrol, but I nevertheless agreed to acquire it for her.

Returning now to the guild hall, I informed Teekeeus of the task she had assigned me. In retrospect this may have been a mistake, for in reality I had simply to get rid of her, as per the orders. However the recommendation Teekeeus would provide came above all else, and he certainly seemed to recognise the name of the book, immediately demanding that I give it to him rather than Earana. This then would earn me my recommendation, and my course now set, I departed by the south gate, mounted Shadow, and rode north.

Judging from the heavy cloud a storm was gathering, adding the possibility of additional danger from the lightning in such an exposed location, in addition to the unwelcome deluge. However such conditions would likely cloak my movements from unfriendly eyes, assuming that there were people who would be guarding Cloud Top. Even if there was not, the countryside in this region was thick with hostile creatures, including wolves, and what looked like a troll...although I deliberately didn't slow down to find out.

The windswept grasses swiftly gave way to mountain, and it finally became to steep to ascend further on horseback. Leaving Shadow at the highest clear landmark – a ruined imperial fort – I climbed the steep slopes alone, peering through the lashing rain in the hope of seeing the object of my search. My search was not entirely uninterrupted however, as I was assaulted by a wolf – which I used as an opportunity to again test my Fire Atronach. It seemed effective enough, steam rising where the rain struck it, and the wolf fell within seconds. I had no further use of it during that trip however, for either the steepness of the slopes or the exposed nature of the land during a raging storm transpired to lead to a peaceful passage. At last I sighted the ruins of Cloud Top, and approached.

The ruins, such as they were, appeared to be bare and open. There were no creatures or foes stalking the remains, and neither was there an interior or cave complex – which would have provided both a challenge for exploration, and a shelter from the weather. Indeed the sole occupant was a charred corpse lying next to a marble pillar, which appears slightly out of place. Fortunately the book was with the corpse, and appeared undamaged; however I could not open it. Realising there was little further to be achieved here, I clambered back down to the fort, before riding back to Chorrol, the book in hand.

I could return this to either Teeteeus or Earana, however as I had revealed the books title to the Argonian I realised that I could not gain my reference until it was in his hands, and I therefore entered the guild hall, sodden but satisfied with my progress. The guild head appeared pleased to have the book, and said that he would send the reference I needed off immediately, immediately after securing the book away that is.

Thinking it might be interesting to see Earanas reaction to the news, I exited the guild hall and approached her. She was, as might be expected, extremely angry that I had not given it to her. However it was at this point that I suggested that I could perhaps yet acquire the book for her – my reference now having been secured I was keen to see what reward this might earn me. Besides, I grow sick of these authoritarian lizards ordering me around. She claimed that she would yet reward me if I 'collected it' from the guild hall, and I re-entered with haste in search of Teeteeus.

My haste proved unnecessary, for despite his earlier words the Argonian had merely placed the book, unsecured, in a chest in the living quarters. Having verified that no one was present, I simply took it, and returned to Earana. It would take a day to decode according to her, and I left her be, resting for the night, and then spending the day wandering Chorrol, and in thought.

Chorrol certainly made a nice change from Bravil, clean stonework replacing ugly wooden planks, and I walked, thinking now of my recent activities. If I was correct, only two references remained to be secured, after which I would secure a residence and perhaps train for a time. My thoughts were also occupied with the pillar at cloud top. Was it a coincidence that the body lay next to a pillar that seemed completely out of place? Judging from the corpse it had been burned terribly, but the surrounding ground appeared unaffected – suggesting that it may have been a blast of electricity. I would suspect it had been struck by lightning in the storm, but for the fact that the corpse had been cold. My thoughts were not conclusive however, and sufficient time having passed, I again tracked down Earana.

As ever she was condescending in manor, however she provided me a scroll containing notes she had taken, which suggested that the pillar at Cloud Top contained a great power which could be unleashed. The catalysts necessary to unleash this were a Welkynd stone, and a spell of shock; happily I possessed both, and I again departed Chorrol for Clour Top.

Once more it was raining, however as I now knew the way the trip was easier this time, and I arrived within less than a couple of hours. In theory all that was required of me was to cast the shock spell upon the central pillar, which would gift me with the power alluded to in the note. I confess I was slightly nervous, the charred corpse providing testament to the powers of the pillar, however there was nothing to be gained by waiting. Stepping forth with trepidation, I held my hands forth and focussed a spell of shock upon the pillar, internally wishing I had a ranged variant to use, and thus keep my distance. As my spell came in to contact with the pillar the effects were magnified hugely, and lightning shot in all directions – including mine, scorching me badly.

Even as the light enveloped me I felt a change...had this been what the notes had mentioned? I felt new knowledge, and a new power – a spell; 'The Finger of the Mountain'. It was potent, yet was unhappily yet beyond my current abilities – a situation I was by now all too familiar with. Yet it would doubtless serve me well in time, and the road to the Arcane University is now shorter than ever...

2006-04-03T17:22:00.000+01:00

15 - Victoria - Shadow and Nightmare:

Although I had bought Shadow from Tovas Selvani yesterday, I had spent no further time there, choosing instead to enter Cheydinhal immediately and attend to my guild duties. This now done, I left the town in the early afternoon, crossing to the Black Waterside Stables and entering the enclosed paddock.

The fruits of my labour stood there, and seemed in appearance everything I had hoped for; healthy, and chafing from inactivity. I intended to change this swiftly – the inactivity that is, rather than the health - however I first placed my spare clothes, books, alchemy equipment and ingredients, and indeed the greater part of my collection of Welkyd stones (I didn't think I needed more than ten on my person) into the saddlebags. The arena raiment in particular was a weight off my back, as I only used it during the short time I spent in the combat pit; however I kept the Stone of Miscarcad with me - I couldn't bear to leave it out of my sight. These items having weighed me down for some time now, I was relieved to finally carry them no longer, and could myself now move a good deal faster than I had before. This however was only the lesser part of my reason for buying a horse, particularly at this heavy price this breed had cost me, for a mere Paint horse would have sufficed for cargo duties. I had never ridden before now, and therefore began with a carefully chosen slow walk out of the stables, my view elevated, and my posture surprisingly comfortable.

Now outside the paddock, I jumped off to close the gate behind us, and Shadow waited obligingly. Indeed I suspect that the black horses are not just notable for their speed, but also their ease of riding – for the movement is both smooth and quiet; Shadow was indeed a fitting name. Returning, I decided that there was little to learn from trotting down the path, and chose now to launch Shadow into a full gallop, and we rushed down the path. It seemed almost as if we were flying, so soft and swift were Shadows footfalls, and indeed the ease of riding led to the decision to simply ride onward to Bravil without pause.

The journey was perhaps notable only for the lack of notable events, as I had decided that we would ride on rather than pause to investigate any ruins or isolated buildings we passed, or indeed collect any reagents. Such is perhaps a disadvantage of riding, in addition to the decline in personal exercise, however the acquisition of goods was not the objective of this ride, which was both for its own sake, and to make good time to Bravil, the centre for illusionary magic. Shadow seemed tireless as the afternoon stretched into evening, and we left all behind us, outpacing bandits, boars, bears and wolves, in addition to overtaking the fleet deer who had previously fled before me. We thundered across the long bridge east of the Imperial City, leaving a Khajiit bandit behind us, until as the shadows lengthened we finally arrived at Bravil.

The law prohibits the entry of horses into towns, and I was therefore forced to leave Shadow grazing upon the main road. That said, Bravil itself appeared rather run down, the buildings constructed of wood. Perhaps it would appear better in the light of day, for it was now late evening, yet this is certainly not the sort of location I would choose to purchase a property. Indeed all the houses I had encountered thus far seemed a little disappointing, for in my heart I yearned for something that would be more fitting for a mage; however whether I would encounter such a building remained to be seen.

Perhaps the guild should work some of its illusionary magic upon Bravil itself, but such was probably an optimistic hope. My intent was now to secure such spells as were of use to me here, and then speedily acquire my recommendation. Upon claiming this I would be more than half way towards my objective of entry to the Arcane University. I was slightly less sure of what direction I would take from there, however my vague plans were to work my way further up the Arena ranks, in addition to acquiring a permanent residence, before I again returned to ascending the mages guild. I further felt that it would be better to establish a foothold in all guilds before advancing too far in any single one; I did not want the bizarre situation of becoming Arch-Mage, and then undertaking menial tasks for the fighters guild; if indeed such hopes were not entirely in vain. The guild hall here fitted in perfectly with the towns architecture, which was unfortunate in my mind, but pushing such thoughts aside I entered and found a bed to rest in until dawn.

Rising with the morning, I investigated the spells on offer in the guild. There was a wide range, as I had hoped, including such powerful spells of illusion as chameleon and invisibility; too powerful unfortunately, as they were beyond my skill. Ultimately I bought only one spell; 'beguiling touch' – a powerful charm spell. It was clear I would have to advance my skills further, and this is an additional reason to wish for access to the Arcane University; that I may create spells solely for the purposes of my own training.

Leaving the guild briefly to visit the stores in the town, I further purchased a spell of 'dispel'. I had no use for it right now, but such spells are excellent as a contingency. The Warlocks Luck would not however accept the sale of the potions I had recently created, so I opted to visit the general traders, earning me slightly under four hundred gold. With these tasks out of the way, I returned again to the guild hall in search of my recommendation.

The guild head transpired to be an Argonian by the name of Kud-Ei, who claimed that her task was 'unorthodox' – which is hardly a first. Initially she began speaking about a situation regarding 'Ardaline', however she soon then began talking about 'Hemantier' being missing. Unsure of which was the task, I began the latter and, having told her I was prepared, Kud-Ei asked me to follow her, leading me into a nearby house where Hementier could be found upon the bed.

The Argonian explained that he had enchanted a piece of jewellery that influenced his dreams, and might allow him to train, and to overcome his fears. Unfortunately (for him) he seemed to have become trapped, and Kud-Ei thought it would be best for me to try and enter his dreams - as he wouldn't recognise me, and thus wouldn't dismiss me out of hand. It seemed like a fairly benign task, until after further probing Ked-Ei revealed that dying in the dream would likely kill me in real life. However I didn't have a choice, I needed that reference, so I took the amulet, and, with some regret, allowed myself to fall asleep.

From here it went from bad to worse, for upon entering Hemantiers dream it was clear something was indeed wrong; I found myself with him in a ruined house, the light dim, and, to my consternation, I found that I had access to neither spells, nor indeed my items; including any clothes. Hemantier stood before me, yet seemed to not percieve me fully. Nevertheless he spoke, claiming to be trapped in his dream (which was a great surprise). This left me to pick up the pieces, which had been my intent (or Ked-Ei's rather), and I began to explore - having found some temporary garments.

There appeared to be four exits from the structure, and judging from the fact Hemantier had talked about failing to confront his fears, I suspected that a test of some kind existed behind each. With nothing to be gained by waiting, I entered the first...

I was confronted by an ashen red sky stretching over a structure which appeared strikingly similar to the Arena, or how it would look if ruined. Rather than immediately stepping out, I returned to a small container I had noted upon entering and, looking inside, I found various forms of armour, in addition to a staff. Evidently then this particular trial would involve combat, and disdaining the armour I reached for the latter item - which appeared to have an enchantment of lightning upon it. Knowledge such as this sprung fully formed into my mind, for it was of course, a dream, and so even the strangest things appeared to fit some kind of internal logic. I realised I would have to avoid being pulled in by such distortions of perception, and having readied my staff, I stepped forth to see what manor of foe awaited me.

Or rather, what manor of foes – for they were a pair – and I could see why Hemantier feared them - they were minotaurs; creatures with massive bull like heads upon smaller, yet mighty frames; I could see this would prove a difficult encounter. Of course as this was a dream, and as I was wielding a strange staff, such estimations might prove ill informed. As it transpired my fears were proved correct in that the two minotaurs were strong, sending me flying with a massive strike. However this occurred only after I had felled one of the pair with multiple bursts of electricity from my staff, and I knew I could prevail, at least in this dream world. As the latter followed the first I wished that I could bring this staff back to the waking world with me, but such would prove impossible. Again however it served to draw my mind back to the staff I wished to purchase, as and when I could afford it.

The combat complete, a stairway dropped into the arena, and ascending this I found a glowing rock, which I knew instantly to a token – and upon taking it I was transported instantly back to Hemantier. He had nothing new to say, but my path was now clear, I must gather the three remaining tokens, one for each respective remaining exit, after which we may presumably escape this twisted realm.

This 'test of resolve' complete, I now chose a different exit – which lead to a deep pool. The container nearby held a potion of water breathing, so once more the route was obvious – I must swim the passages, under the assumption that it would not simply lead to a dead end. This then was the trial of courage, and of them all the tests I found it to be the hardest, for I was forced to simply place my life at risk, and simply trust. Trust what? The fevered dreams of an Altmer? This was worse than I had feared, but I knew that I could only attain my reference for the Arcane University following it. With this in mind, I cast any fears aside and dived into the pool, leaving the water breathing potion unused for now.

The underwater passages were long and winding, until I at last found myself in an underwater cave – and it was here that I knew I must breath once more, or begin to drown, and I thus drank the potion of water breathing. Water breathing is a strange spell at the best of times, although it is perhaps stranger still when in a dream. Frequently the challenge lies in forcing yourself to 'breath' the water, for it is against all instinct, yet here in the dream world it was no challenge at all, and I swam smoothly on – finding a further potion of water breathing upon the floor. Holding this, I swam swiftly onward, until at last I returned to the open air – and found the second of the glowing tokens ahead of me.

Again I was returned to Hemantier, and again he had nothing new to say, so I forced myself to continue onward. “Hesitate and you will die” as my master had said, and I needed all he had taught me now as I focussed my determination to carry on. A situation such as this had acted to completely pull the floor out beneath me, and it was raw will power that allowed me to prevail.

The next task, following the trial of courage, involved traversing a trap laden path suspended in the air. My obstacles were spinning blades and falling guillotines, yet of the tasks it was perhaps the easiest for me, merely requiring superior skills of perception, and a lot of nerve. So it was that I observed the patterns until I at last beheld a safe path, and followed it without hesitation. Again a token awaited me, and claiming this I was transported to Hemantier; my final task awaited.

With the trial of perception behind me, the final door revealed a dark room, the floor lit by a pale light. This was not the notable feature of the floor however, for more importantly I beheld a grid of pressure pads, and looking upon the walls I saw a series of slots, each of which would send forth a dart. They were, of course, connected; I would have to pick the correct path through the rooms, avoiding the dangerous tiles, until I at came upon what would presumably be the last token.

Observing a container as in the previous rooms, I opened it to discover a scrap of parchment, which appeared to illustrate this room, and two further rooms – all apparently of a similar style as this, but of sequentially greater scale and complexity. I presumed that there was simply a code to be broken, but I did not wish to resort to a form of trial and error – for in this instance an error would likely lead to my instant death. So it was that, drawing upon the confidence gained in the trial of perception, I simply leapt between the flagstones, avoiding the pressure points completely. Perhaps the dream world had completely unnerved me, for in retrospect it seemed like a rash decision, yet it worked, and I at last found myself facing the final token.

With all tokens finally claimed I approached Hemantier, and he seemed to finally see me at last – and after claiming to now understand what had happened, the dream dissolved, returning me to my waking self. Hemantier rose immediately and came to thank me, giving me a number of scrolls as reward, and I accepted them, thinking that while a poor return for the effort, the reference for the university would be sufficient.

With this in mind I approached the guild head, Ked-Ei, who thanked me for rescuing my friend. However, she claimed that this had not been the task for which she would provide a reference. I cannot express the rage that I felt, and it was all I could do to mask it, turning away and departing before I did something...regrettable.

It was clear then that not only had all my efforts been in vain, but that I had to complete the task regarding Ardaline to attain my reference. I paced the town for a time until my temper was again in check, before returning to Ked-Ei; there was nothing else I could do.

The Argonian now explained her next task for me - as I fought to maintain a neutral expression; it appeared Ardalines staff had been stolen by a Dunmer named Varon Vamori, and I must return it – a situation of some delicacy, or so she claimed. Fortunately the Dunmer was yet in Brevil, and Ked-Ei gave me a scroll of charm to use upon him to attain cooperation – perhaps needless in light of my newly purchased spell, yet I took it all the same.

I found Varon easily, for he was in the tavern, and having cast both the scroll, and my own charm spell, he appeared most cooperative – regarding me as a long lost friend. He claimed to be in love with Ardaline, which didn't surprise me, however despite his shame in stealing the staff (to gain attention), he had then sold it on!

It seemed that the test of patience has persued me from Hemantier's dreams into the waking world, for I must now seek it out and purchase it in the Imperial City. It is well that I have Shadow to carry me, for these obstacles are driving me to distraction. A long road lies ahead...

2006-04-01T18:19:00.000+01:00

14 - Victoria - The Inundated Associate:

I awoke at seven with no memory of any dreams, although Owyn claimed I had been 'twitching uneasily', as he put it. Perhaps it was a poor attempt at humour, but I didn't ask around to find out – deciding instead to leave the murky Bloodworks. The open air made a welcome change, for when fighting in the Arena you have little chance to take your time or admire the scenery, while the Bloodworks themselves are dark, noisy, and well - bloody. I walked first to the market district, planning to sell any unwanted items, and perhaps pick up a few spells, before beginning my journey to Cheydinhal.

The streets were still quiet, for the shops had yet to open – leaving me at a loose end. I didn't particularly mind, enjoying the sound of silence as I wandered, lost in my own thoughts. I had made a great deal of progress considering it was barely two weeks since my escape from the Imperial prison, however the Arcane University was still beyond my reach, and I remained a mere associate in the mages guild.

I considered the public fear of necromancy, and the recent move against it by the guild. Such a change in policy had been the downfall of my master, and had left me incarcerated indefinitely in an Imperial prison. I missed him, for in a way he had been my only family; of course I do have memories of my 'true' parents, but they are dark and troubled. I have a nagging sensation that I am missing something important, for my last memories of them are vague and indistinct, and this serves as a constant vexation for me; yet perhaps it is nothing.

If the training with my master had continued unabated I can only imagine how elevated my skills would have become by now, as opposed to their current stunted state – for I had been chosen, my race and the star deciding my fate...I was abruptly shaken out of my ruminations by the first call of the day; the shops had at last opened.

My first act was to sell any miscellaneous items I happened to have collected, which I accomplished at the Three Brothers traders, before moving on to have my bow and arena raiment repaired by Varnado of the Best Defence. It was at this point that my heart sunk, for I suddenly realised that no merchant held more than a thousand gold. Prior to now this had not been a practical limitation in my transactions, as I had sold nothing of such value, yet it meant that I would collect only a thousand gold for my reflect shield, worth over four times that value. There was no helping the situation however, and I finally forced myself to sell it to Viator Accius – leaving me with seven thousand gold in total.

From here I decided to investigate the stores which dealt in magic, for I had sufficient coin to cover both a small selection of spells, and the probable cost of the horse – I suspected that at the very most it would cost no more than five thousand Septims. Moving first to the Mystic Emporium I bought 'Touch of Rage' from Calindil, a spell from the school of illusion I had been hoping to find. I find it strange how the public fears and suppress necromancy, which merely utilises the dead – while spells such as these - which can wreck havoc upon the living - are largely ignored. I suppose the subtle school of illusion is easy to underestimate, appearing to lack substance to those with a merely superficial understanding, yet a spell such as this can allow me to not only kill anyone I chose legally – ostensibly in self defence; but also cause others do the killing for me. Touch of Rage induces a frenzy into the target, leaving them running amok – a state of events which is generally brought to a close rather...conclusively, by guards and fellow residents alike.

In addition to this most excellent spell, I also acquired a pair from Edgar's Discount Spells store; namely Ease Burden and Major Wound – the former lightening my load while in effect, while the latter draining the health of my foes, thankfully a ranged spell. I now entered Rindirs staffs, intending merely to browse, however it was all I could do to prevent myself from spending the vast majority of the gold I had immediately upon a staff; the staff of 'Apotheosis'. Priced at six thousand Septims, this staff dealt not simply fire damage – but also frost and shock damage, and in each of these was more deadly that my lightning touch spell. Certainly such a weapon would transform my long Arena matches into a series of one sided firework displays, but I knew that I must first buy the horse I had been saving for. Still, it had displaced the manor from the top of my buying list – that would clearly have to wait.

My final stop was The Main Ingredient, ran by Oglier Georick, for I had a great deal of ingredients. Unfortunately the vast majority seemed mutually incompatible – that is until I finally made a breakthrough in my alchemical abilities while mixing a potion. It is hard to explain, something just clicked, and what had previously left me bemused now seemed transparent. Examining my ingredients again, I percieved new combinations that could be created; and I eventually created forty seven potions, now with such advanced effects as Light and Reflect. The sale of these covered the cost of my recent spell acquisitions and, pausing only to buy a higher quality Calcinator, I passed the Chestnut Handy Stables and crossed the bridge, leaving the capital behind me.

Although I walked purposefully, my mind was distracted. Having made my breakthrough in alchemy I had of course re-examined my Nirnroot, thinking that I might perhaps finally discover a positive effect, as would befit the potion Sinderion had described. Instead I had found that in addition to its prior effects, it also drained agility! Sinderion had talked of how the root seemed to have transformed itself in recent years, could the tome then be outdated, and the root radically different? I decided I would keep this finding to myself for now, and see what transpired, but if Sinderion were lying to me I would give him a dose of his own medicine – and a potent dose it would be, judging from the effects I had found thus far.

To reach Cheydinhal I would first have to rise above Lake Rumare, following the Red Ring Road north and around. I could perhaps have saved time through simply swimming the lake surrounding the Imperial City, but once again I felt the journey was an end in itself, and wished to collect as much money as I could – for my hands itched whenever I thought of the staff at Rindirs.

It was not difficult to follow the path, both through having the lake lying upon my right throughout the journey, and the presence of sign posts. This was perhaps fortunate, for this was a region I had yet to explore, and I soon reached Fort Empire; which marked the periphery of my earlier travels in this direction.

I visited the fort briefly, primarily intending to appreciate the view from the roof, as it was day – my previous visit having been in the dark. The fort seemed to have again become repopulated with Imps; perhaps the Elven Ruin where I suspected I might have missed the Varla stone was similarly repopulated. The thought was both depressing – in that I could never make a lasting impression, but also reassuring – for I was doing this not for the sake of good, but for myself – and such a repopulation implied that given time, there might again be valuables to gather.

The roof was swept by a light breeze blowing in from Lake Rumare, and with the sky clear I sat admiring the view for a time, my hood swept back. It was a stunning vista, for from this elevated position you could see not only the gleaming city, but also the bridge, forests and distant mountains. I remained here for a time, enjoying it for its own sake, while simultaneously consuming a little of my food.

Still, I could not remain here indefinitely, and I set forth once more, my journey broken only by a brief encounter with some deer – for they chose to run before me; and by an equally brief encounter with some timber wolves - for they chose to run towards me. Now north of the lake and travelling east, I came across a ruin to the side of the path – apparently guarded by an archer. The bandit was swiftly dispatched, and I paused to replace my iron bow with the superior steel variant which he had wielded; it wasn't like he had any use for it now.

It was likely that he had been using the ruins as some kind of base of operations, or perhaps was part of a group currently looting the interior – certainly the presence of more than one bedroll suggested that there must be others in the vicinity. A fire still burned, strange considering the warmth of the day, but perhaps this to was merely the sign of a permanent presence. I determined to enter the ruins, hoping to acquire something of value; although the ruins seemed a little smaller than those I had searched previously.

As I was now accustomed to, the interior was lit by glowing crystals affixed to the walls, removing the need for my night eye spell. It was not so bright however as to prohibit stealth, and I made my approach as silent as possible, creeping down the passage in the shadows, before finally reaching the main chamber without incident.

A fire burned ahead and to the side of the passage, the contrast between it and the dim chamber creating difficulty in my initial survey, but I could see enough to be sure that I had found the rest of the bandits. None had yet seen me, as they talked among themselves, occasionally pacing the room in what appeared to be chainmail; certainly that alone would pay better than the leather and fur armour I had previously collected.

I will not go into detail here, for this single chamber turned out to be the extent of the ruins, and I had no great difficulty pacifying the residents. Suffice to say that I put my new frenzy spell to good effect, sneaking up behind the toughest mail clad, hammer wielding and ultimately aggressive bandit I could find – and casting upon him. The effect was immediate and gratifying, for he gave a roar and charged towards his former friends, who stared disbelieving as he raised his weapon, before finally swinging into action. It was all too easy really, although I sent my zombie minion into the conflict to add some spice. While this continued I scouted the periphery of the chamber, picking off the odd couple of lone individuals, until finally the chamber was silent. No singularly valuable items could be found, but I did gather a number of Welkyd stones, which were by now beginning to weigh me down a little. I looked forward to the time that I could place most of them - and the better part of my alchemy apparatus - into the saddle bags of my horse. The interior empty, I returned to the bandit camp among the ruins, and it now being late evening, I slept there until morning.

I rose with the dawn, keen to have claimed my steed before the sun had set, and returned to the path. The ruins fell behind me, and I passed the Roxey Inn – used by more 'civilised' travellers in preference to claiming a bandit camp for themselves no doubt. Still, I had no cause for complaint, my rest having been undisturbed, and I was making good progress. Looking towards the Imperial City I now beheld the Imperial Prison, where I had remained incarcerated for so many years. A sense of rage passed through me, swiftly to be replaced by implacable purpose. They had locked me up when I had barely entered my teenage years, and there I had remained for perhaps a decade. And now the emperor and his servants had the arrogance to demand I do their bidding!? I suspected that if it were not for the fact he were dead, I would even now be planning his downfall. A pointless consideration now I suppose, but I felt I had been a political prisoner. I was thrown into the prison following the raid upon my former life; yes necromancy had been outlawed, and yes there was more to it than that, but I remained filled with a cold fury. I must take care to channel this only into useful purpose, for I must not falter.

Approaching the remains of Fort Urusak, the road forked, and I joined the Blue Road, which lead me to Cheydinhal - the way now steep and wooded. The path was relatively clear, although immediately after blasting a timber wolf with my electric touch I realised I had yet to test my spell of major wound – a situation I swiftly rectified, the wolf proving a willing volunteer to sate my curiosity. Unfortunately the effect was short lived, for the creature fell dead almost immediately, leaving me suspecting that it had perhaps been upon the brink of death following my earlier attacks; major wound works over a period of time, draining the health of its victim. Some consider it a rather cruel spell for that reason, and while I myself have no particular moral qualms, I will create a faster acting variant when I finally have access to the Arcane University - it is simply a matter of practicality.

At last the walls of Cheydinhal came into view, and with it the Black Waterside Stables. I shall go into greater depth regarding my horse in a later entry, and here will say no more than that the acquisition cost me five thousand gold, and that I chose not to ride immediately, deciding instead that I would sell the chainmail I had collected, as well as attempt to earn the recommendation of the local guild.

Entering the main gate, I beheld the streets of Cheydinal. The floor was paved with pale flagstones, while tall and ornately structured buildings stood at either side of the road, themselves appearing diminutive before the mountains. A stream flowed through the upper section of the town, crossing provided by a small bridge which led to the local church; however I did not explore extensively, deciding instead to track down the guild, and my recommendation, immediately.

Stopping only to sell the armour I had collected, I entered the local guild hall – revealing a slightly cramped interior. My first act was to purchase what spells I could find of use, for this centre specialised in the magic of alteration. Ultimately I purchased water breathing, water walk, open average lock and hindering touch. The former would soon prove to be of immediate use, however water walking might prove convenient on my travels – and I had some hope that it would also work upon my horse, although that remained to be seen. Hindering touch created the opposite effect of my earlier ease burden spell – leaving the recipient weighed down. Open average lock would also likely prove useful, but unfortunately my skills in alteration are insufficient to allow me to use it as of yet.

This initial objective complete, I tracked down the guild head in search of my recommendation; but upon learning whom it was my heart sank. The guild head was a male Altmer named Falcar, an arrogant and petty individual with an openly condescending attitude. Still, his task seemed easy enough – to recover a ring of burden which he claimed had been dropped down the well behind the guild hall by a clumsy associate. I would have to ask the Argonian woman Deetsan for the key to the well, but even now I suspected I could see where the challenge would lie – for a ring of burden underwater could trap and drown the holder. Still, I was now armed with spells of both ease burden and water breathing, so I felt I was up to the challenge.

Deetsan seemed concerned regarding the task, but would not speak to me until Falcar was out of earshot. While waiting for such an opportunity I secreted the better part of my goods in a chest in the guild basement – for it would not do to carry more than I needed, as the ring alone would likely provide sufficient weight to drag me down. Returning, I found Deetsan had settled down for tea, and I engaged her in conversation. Her fears seemed to arise from the fact that this challenge had already been given to an associate some time ago, an individual named 'Vidkun', who seemed to have promptly disappeared. Nevertheless she provided the key, and I departed the building in search of the well.

I had no difficulties finding it, for the well lay barely fifteen yards from the guild hall, and the key opened the lock immediately. Pausing only to cast my newly acquired spell of water breathing, I plunged into the murky depths. The water was cloudy, more so than I would consider healthy for a human consumption – but I soon discovered that using this well as a source of drinking water would be extremely ill advised; for trapped again the ceiling I found the body of Vidkun, still wearing the ring of burden. It was clear that one way or another he had been ill prepared, his bloated features bearing mute testament to his incompetence. As I had suspected the ring was extremely heavy – so much so that I was forced to use my ease burden spell before I could again swim freely. Leaving the body, I was about to exit when I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye. Investigating, I was thrilled to discover it was Nirnroot – suspiciously convenient. I wonder if the presence of a decomposing corpse in the water has given this particular sample additional alchemical properties? Too much to hope for perhaps.

Ascending the well I gave some thought to the situation. It was clear that Falcar had placed the ring here himself as a deliberate test, eliminating the associates who disturbed him in search of a recommendation. I suppose in his eyes it may have been an elegant solution, yet it struck me as a rather wasteful way of 'sorting' applicants – surely a use could have been found for the late Vidkun. My opinion of Falcar was low, yet with it dropped my estimation of Deetsan, had she not claimed to be worried about Vidkuns fate? And yet despite holding the keys to the well, knowing he had entered, and indeed her species innate ability of water breathing, she had not investigated the well herself. I was unimpressed at such hypocrisy.

Entering the guild hall, I could find no sign of Falcar, and, wearying of this constant burden, I tracked down Deetsan – for she had asked I contact her if I had learned the cause of Vidkuns...disappearance. She claimed to have confronted Falcar immediately following my departure, and after threatening to report his behaviour to the council he had apparently left the guild hall in a rage. Her incompetence certainly knew no ends – could she not have waited until I got my recommendation?

It seemed not, and further, she asked I investigate Falcars quarters to discover what had led him to act so strangely. Inhibiting my immediate reaction, which was to inform her that she was doubtless the source of his ire (and indeed mine), I forced myself to follow her words – for it seemed likely that in Falcars absense she would be the ranking member of this guild hall.

Searching Falcars belongings in the basement, I finally came across items in his chest which made my heart race. Black soul gems! I had never before held such items, yet I knew their significance, having studied them during my curtailed training. Black soul gems can be used to bind the souls not simply of beasts, but of man and mer, and are considered by some to be the very darkest form of necromancy. I burned to keep them for my own experimentation, but knew that these would likely have a sufficiently significant impact upon Deetsan to earn me my recommendation without a second thought. This turned out to be the case, but she took both from me, to my dismay. Perhaps I should have hidden one and then only shown her the other, leaving me with a black soul gem of my own? The risk might perhaps have been too great, but it is a lasting regret. Still, in time I will doubtless construct and study my own.

The spells bought and the recommendation acquired, my work in Cheydinal seemed complete, at least for now. Casting the worthless ring of burden back into the well (how ironic), I gathered my belongings, before exiting the main gate in search of my newly acquired horse. I looked forward to the ride to Bravil and Chorrol, for not only would I attempt to acquire recommendations from the two, but they also served as specialist centres in illusion and conjuration – and likely held spells that would serve me well. Further, the journey would familiarise me with my newest acquisition, my trusty steed, whom I have decided to name Shadow.

2006-03-31T12:15:00.000+01:00

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.

2006-03-30T12:56:00.000+01:00

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.

2006-03-28T22:13:00.000+01:00

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...

2006-03-28T12:32:00.000+01:00

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...

2006-03-27T14:46:00.000+01:00

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.

2006-03-27T01:41:00.000+01:00

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.

2006-03-26T21:16:00.000+01:00

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...

2006-03-26T21:09:00.000+01:00

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...

2006-03-26T19:24:00.000+01:00

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...

2006-03-26T04:10:00.000+01:00

04 - Victoria - Westward Ho!

The weather cleared with startling speed, perhaps the climate around the capital was temperamental, although rumour would doubtless blame the recent assassination of the emperor - which many now considered the source of all bad luck. Disdaining the stables upon the outskirts I decided to travel forth on foot, setting my provisional destination as Chorral - where Jauffre dwelt. I had yet to decide whether I would indeed follow that up, for despite claims to the contrary by panic stricken citizens, the empire hardly seemed to be collapsing into 'the jaws of oblivion', to me at least.

Having crossed the bridge, I followed the course of the path at my leisure, pausing at times to gather ingredients, and to learn the lay of the land from the signposts. After a couple of moments of this I espied a wolf some distance away, to the side of the path. It would surely see me if I continued on my course and therefore I felt I must deal with it. This seemed to me a perfect time to test my new bound dagger, and so I approached without stealth - rather than engaging the animal from range, as was my normal tactic. The fight proved little challenge, my dagger biting deep into its flesh repeatedly; until at last it moved no more.

Continuing on, I came across a ruined outpost named 'Fort Empire'. The name struck me as ironic, for it was modest in size, and lay in heavy decay. Ever careful, I tested my new detect life spell, and was rewarded with advance warning of a shape hovering on the far side of the wall. I knew of a number of creatures who could fit such criteria, and thus was on my guard as I passed under the crumbling arch.

It turned out to be an Imp; a small flying creature with some small ability in magic. Far too small as it transpired, as with little effort on my part it plummeted to its resting place upon the floor - I, ever practical, harvested its bile, for it was known to have magical properties. The remainder of the ruins were apparently bereft of life, and with nothing further to prepare I entered the interior of the ruin.

The interior was dank and dimly lit, but beyond that little impeded my exploration. The only foes I encountered were more Imps, which were pitifully easy to defeat - a matter of only a few fireballs or a single touch of elemental electricity proved too much for them. My search was rewarded well however, for in a shaded and undisturbed chest near the base of the complex I discovered a speech gem, which was exceptionally valuable compared to anything I yet owned; worth the better part of one thousand gold. The other noteworthy item I collected was a 'ring of viper', worth perhaps two hundred and fifty coin, although knowing the city merchants I would likely see only a half of either items true value. Nevertheless this was a great return compared to the Arena, particularly when the minimal risk and effort was taken into account. I emerged to see night had once again fallen, the view from aloft the ruins revealing the capital in the distance...

2006-03-26T02:53:00.000+01:00

03 - Victoria - A New Beginning:

Despite my prior intention I did not wait for the dawn before moving on – for I had not remained incarcerated for so many years simply to lie at the gate of my prison. So it was that the stars above lit my path to the Imperial City, my passage interrupted only by an encounter with a mud crab. It proved no more than a source of amusement, as I tested my summoning abilities by calling forth a skeleton to fight it - a rather one sided confrontation that raised my spirits still higher. Harvesting from the body, I soon reached the main road leading into the Imperial City; my back now to the hateful prison.

The approach to the city was impressive, particularly after such a long period in an enclosed space, but I would not allow myself to be intimidated. Rather than diminishing me the sight merely warmed my ambition; fame would be mine, that or infamy - only time would tell.

My initial intent was to sell the myriad of items that were not of use immediate use to me which my escape had collected, and I went to this in short order; selling the armour at the Fighting Chance, along with all my weapons besides the bow and short sword. Following this I bought a novice Calcinator, Alembic and Retort, for my humble Pestle & Mortar was insufficient for reasonable usage on its own. The acquisition of this equipment cost me the greater part of the gold my earlier sales had garnered me, however I made some return through creating and selling a number of damage and restore fatigue concoctions created from ingredients I had collected previously.

I had kept my ears open during my wandering, and besides rumours regarding the 'Gray Fox' and the like, I was also reminded of the presence of the Arena; a combat coliseum in which bets are placed upon fights to the death, while the fighters themselves are well rewarded. I felt confident in my abilities, and feeling that this was potentially an excellent source of experience and money in a predictable environment my last act was to acquire a Shocking Touch spell. Although expensive, the elemental electricity would likely prove useful, for although I prefer to remain at a distance as a rule, this would likely prove infeasible in a closed arena against my opponents.

Arriving at the Arena I was asked whether I was here to fight, or to place a bet. Betting seemed simple enough; you simply placed between twenty five and one hundred gold upon a team, and if they won you got double this back. However I am not one to gamble, at least not in a situation whether the returns do not exceed the risk - and despite my recent escape I did not wish to risk my limited resources on mere luck. It was by now early afternoon, and feeling I had nothing to gain through postponing my plans, I ventured into the Arena Bloodworks in search of the Blademaster.

The Blademaster turned out to be a man named Owyn, gruff in speech and lacking in social graces. However I had not come in search of pleasant conversation, and despite his doubts in my abilities he nevertheless provided the combat garments that all fighters are required to wear. I must confess I dislike wearing it, for not only is it uncomfortable and revealing, but it also limits my casting abilities in a way robes do not. After approaching a number of the training fighters, including a meaty looking Orc named "The Gray Prince" who was apparently Arena champion, I decided to cut to the proverbial chase, and approached Owyn, now garbed in my arena raiment -and a fight was swiftly arranged. The gates unsealed, I advanced up the winding passage which ascended to the Arena.

The passage abruptly gave way to the arena itself, the sudden sunlight almost blinding me. As I stood preparing myself an announcer read the preparatory speech, and following this the two gates fell, revealing my opponent. My foe transpired to be a woman, and while no walkover, it was not long before my magic reduced her to a grave among the dust that marked the Arena floor. I had no regrets regarding her death; she had known the risks, and so I returned to an apparently surprised Owyn to claim my reward - which turned out to be a meagre fifty gold.

Having proved myself as a 'Pitdog' (a demeaning title I was determined to swiftly leave behind) I continued fighting opponents, and while none were complete walkovers, only one of the early fights proved particularly memorable; a duel against a pair of elven twins. Drawing from past experiences I strategised immediately - driving the sister armed with the bow into the opposite tunnel, before summoning a skeleton to deal with her as she stood trapped with her back against the locked door. As my minion dealt with her I attempted to keep my distance from the remaining fighter, until finally my magical barrage brought her to her knees; her sister now long dead. Well at least that was one less vengeful relative to worry about...

Having advanced to 'Brawler' my rewards were greater, yet they still scarcely exceeded one hundred gold - significantly less than I had hoped. I finally decided that I would prove my abilities, and perhaps begin to make a name for myself, through claiming the intermediate title of 'Bloodletter'; the earning of which would require the defeat of a heavily armed and armoured Khajit. It was now evening, and too late for the fights to continue, so I rested in the Arena quarters for the night – the first night outside a cell for longer than I would care recall. As the day dawned I arranged the final match with Owyn, before heading up to the Arena proper. As ever I was cautious, but ultimately I prevailed with little difficulty; the main challenge being to keep my distance from the heavy axe. So it was that I stood above the corpse of my fallen foe, and claimed the title of 'Bloodletter' - and a financial reward of one hundred and fifty gold.

I left the Arena some five hundred coin richer and with a renewed confidence in my skills, mentally vowing that I would later return and continue my ascension. I again toured the Market District, this time with my eyes on the more expensive items. A staff shop and fine clothing store in particular caught my attention, however the former was yet well beyond my means - the staffs costing between one and six thousand coin. The clothes shop meanwhile held nothing I could not afford, but ultimately I decided it would be better not to draw attention to myself at this point, choosing to instead continue wearing my unremarkable robes.

I now had in mind the objective of exploring the land surrounding the capital, and so I bought several spells which appeared particularly useful - among them summon Zombie, Eyes of Eventide and Bound Dagger. The former would serve as a replacement to the Skeleton, who had proved a little weak against a determined foe. Eyes of Eventide meanwhile revealed darkness to me, while the summoned dagger was to serve as a replacement for my short sword - which I then sold.

Wandering the streets, I visited the Arcane University; a school and centre of power for skill casters. Speaking to a battle mage outside however it became apparent that only a member of the mages guild with references from the guild heads could enter, and so I added these recommendations to my mental check list. How a man who had attained the rank of battle mage could demean himself through acting as a mere guard was beyond me. Perhaps satisfaction in such banal roles was what had held the empire together? Personally I would not stand for it; glory and power await me, and I shall let nothing and no ones stand in my way.

I felt myself to be gaining in strength, and so my remaining time in the city was spent practising my new summoning spells, until I rested and awoke, feeling stronger. My movements seemed quicker and more agile as I strode forth, the city behind me, and a gathering storm before me...

2006-03-25T18:57:00.000Z

02 - Victoria - Escape:

I write now, leaning against the exit of the Sewers, for I am free! The night sky provides a cloak for my presence, yet I suspect that my breakout will not attract official antagonism - however I shall start from the beginning.

The dawn found me pacing my new cell in the poor illumination; for the cell was lit only by a spluttering torch, and a narrow beam of light cast from the slit window high above. The cell was cold, for I had nothing to wear besides my basic prison garb and the chains upon my wrists, and thus I paced to keep warm. Yet any activity would have sufficed, for stagnation was perhaps my greatest threat. As my path took me to the bars a male Dunmer across the corridor hailed me with mocking words, but I payed him little heed; it would not do to react to such petty insults. He said I would die here, but I vowed would not be, and one day I would kill him on my own terms... any attempt made now would merely draw unwanted attention to my abilities.

My thoughts were distracted however with the sounds of guards approaching my cell, and as they approached I beheld the emperor Uriel Septim, whom I recognised with ease from my past tutorage. Had he not been the ultimate target of assassination for me following the completion of my training? My mind raced, for I feared that perhaps the words of the vile dunmer had not been idle; could they have learned more of my past, and come to execute me?

My fears were misplaced however, for as they approached the bars it became apparent that they came not for me, but for an exit hidden in my cell. Having arrived in the darkness the night before I had yet to attempt a search for any hidden exits, and now I cursed myself for not doing so immediately. Surely now they had voiced this secret in my presence I would again be relocated, if they indeed even let me live. They demanded I stand against the far wall and entered, however upon seeing me the emperor appeared startled and approached, claiming to recognise me. Apparently I had appeared in his dreams, or perhaps visions, yet he appeared not to know the crimes that had led me to be imprisoned in this, perhaps the most secure wing of the entire prison. He said assassins had killed his sons and were now seeking him, and so it was that he and his guards were attempting to flee via the secret passage, through my cell. Pressure placed upon a brick on the wall revealed the passage, yawning forth where my bed had previously been located.

They moved in haste and so little more was said at this point, however the emperor told me to follow in their wake, to the amazement of his guards - and myself. Not to be thrown off balance however I immediately followed them down the revealed passage. Within moments the assassins struck; men in dark red robes bearing summoned Daedric armour and clothing. Despite this they were no match for the blades of the guards, and soon fell. I took this opportunity to replace my worn prison clothing with the hooded robes of the fallen, for although they might mark me out as belonging to the assassins to some, they would at least not mark me out as a prisoner. I further acquired a steel short blade from the dead, for although I am no 'bold' warrior, a blade is at times a useful backup tool, and I am no coward regarding close combat. Here the emperor and his encourage left me, although he believed we would later meet.

As the door was sealed between us a passage opened to my right, and a giant rat leapt forth - which proved to be the first victim of my talents with elemental fire. Reconsidering my situation I decided I would attempt to escape this prison immediately, rather than deliberately track down the emperor again; if chance will have us again meet, why, chance may reunite us without my stir.

The passage revealed a network of natural caverns in which I immediately found a skeleton, from which I acquired an array of useful goods including lock picks, torches and a bow - for a bow and blade are both useful weapons to compliment my other powers. From here I continued onwards, killing rats from a distance with my bow, or burning them with magical fire if they approached - and as I went I plundered any valuable items I encountered, in addition to any ingredients.

Perhaps my first 'test' was an undead zombie, who attempted to run me down after noting the death of a rat - however although a greater threat than any previously he didn't get close enough to hurt me; for after firing two arrows into him I burned him with fire, leaving nothing besides his charred corpse - from which I retrieved some flesh for later use...

Continuing onwards, my next encounter of interest was with several columns of skulls, roped to the cieling. They reawoke memories in me of my old master, from before my imprisonment - necromancy had always been shunned, and when it was finally outlawed...but that is a tale for another time.

Hiding in the shadows as I advanced, I at last beheld a pestle and mortar; the tool essential in potion making - which would turn my useless assortment of materials into effective and deadly ingredients. A goblin stood admiring a burning rat on a scewer, and I took this opportunity to mix a very special poison to test upon him. Combining the mort flesh I had 'harvested' from the zombie with a piece of rat meat, I created a minor poison which would afflict its target with a sensation of overwhelming weiriness. Alas it was a weak poison, from both my recent lack of practise, and the limited quality of my apparatus; yet it proved potent enough as the poison coated arrow struck the back of the globlin. Interested in observing the effects first hand, I decided to combat him using my steel blade; and the poison did indeed seem to weary him, leaving his attacks poorly coordinated and without power - and a very easy target for my blade. Pleased to have reused some of my old skills I continued on, my next encounter of intest being with a goblin witch in an open cavern.

The cavern housed a number of goblins and a pit in which rats appeared to be stored, presumably for later consumption. The goblins fell to my arrows; until that is that I struck a goblin witch, who advanced upon me before attempting to aid his plight with both offensive and defensive magic. Despire being the first magical duel I had undertaken in many years it did not prove a major challenge; and having dodged a bolt of electricity I slew my foe with a barrage of elemental fire - sending his body flying into the rat infested pit below.

I followed his corpse into the pit below, killing the rats as I went, for I wished to search his corpse. This was not in vain, for I received a soul gem, and while currently out of practise I feel this will be of use to me in the future.

Soon following this I again met the emperor as he had predicted, and while one of his guards; Gleyroy, wished to kill me - the emperor bid him not to. Speaking to him I learned that he feared the time of his death was as hand, but he considered himself blessed by the knowledge. He asked whether I had been born under a particular star, and, hoping that he might provide some indication as to my future, I did not lie - revealing that I had been born under the Mage. He was now the only living man with this knowledge, for my old master was now doubtless dead - ironically this very information having originally drawn him to me.

Moving onwards the guards found the door they had planned to use to be barred, and leaving me in a side room with the emperor the two guards strode forth to deal with the ambush. Fearing his time was short the emperor now revealed to me that one of his heirs remained alive, a secret that few appeared to know, judging from Baurus' later reaction. Uriel gave me the Amulet of Kings and bade me seek out his heir by contacting 'Jauffre', and to "close shut the jaws of Oblivion...". It was at this point that a hidden passage opened and an assassin strode forth, killing the emperor with a single blow as I stood there. Baurus rushed in and with me slew the assassin, however it was clear that he had failed in his duty, for the emperor lay dead.

Upon learning of the mission imposed upon me Baurus bade me to complete it, revealing where I could locate Jauffre, apparently the grand master of the Blades, living alone at Weynon Priory. He asked me my profession, and I informed him I was a Sorceress; perhaps not far from the truth - for I would not reveal my true self to him, or any other. He remained to protect the body, bidding me to escape from the prison through the sewers; which I accomplished in short order. At last I found myself in a long passage which appears to lead into the open, even the dim light dazzling me.
A river flows below me, murmuring quietly as I sit here writing. Judging from the light, or lack thereof, many hours passed since the dawn light crept into my cell. My future now lies open, and many of my former magical skills have returned. Shall I indeed track down the heir and 'close shut the jaws of Oblivion'? I shall see what the dawn reveals...

2006-03-25T18:34:00.000Z

01 - Victoria - Relocation:

I have been moved to a new cell, more isolated than the last; they didn't provide a reason for the move - but I fear they observed my surreptitious magic practise, and feared that I was powerful enough to escape. They fear on good grounds, for I had indeed been planning to make a break out. While my powers are weak from the many seasons I have spent imprisoned I have at least succeeded in maintaining my abilities regarding the projection of elemental fire, and of healing. Alas this new isolated cell appears to be higher security, and the hanging chains and littered bones elude to the unpleasant reality. I fear I may be here for some time.