Skyrim Day 068 - A Collection of Crazy

23 Frostfall, 4E201

Morthal

~~~

This morning was a rare one for me: I had nothing pressing to attend to. I woke early, alone in my massive house and had a leisurely breakfast while contemplating my next move. I had Isran's Dawnguard to visit again, news to deliver to Winterhold College, and various small tasks I accepted months ago before my life became somewhat exciting again. I still had a lot to do, but none of it seemed important this morning. With a light step I left my home and walked into a disaster.

The crazy old man who had waved some poor creature's pelvic bone in my face awhile back had returned to my doorstep wielding another bone and rambling about his 'master' being lost. I tried to walk past him, but he followed me, bleating incessantly about his lost master. Guessing that he would follow me all the way to Winterhold College I turned to him and asked what he expected of me.

It was to enter the Blue Palace and sneak into an abandoned wing of the castle where his master was having tea with another gentleman. The very nature of that meant the wing was not, in fact, abandoned, but the poor man wound up being correct, as events would show. Wishing me luck he pushed the bone he was carrying into my hands and skipped off towards the city gate. It was a very odd exchange.

Despite the early hour the doors of the Blue Palace were open to visitors and I ran into the Steward on my way in. We talked for a bit, things around Solitude are quiet for the moment, and I ordered some enchanting equipment for my home. He asked what brought me back to Solitude and I told him of my previous encounter with the crazy man and the continuation of it this morning. Falk was puzzled as to why the man thought I needed to enter the abandoned wing, but trusted me enough to lend me the key for it.

The place was a ruin, furniture was strewn all over and hopeful cobwebs were stretched between every available surface. A small fortune in silver plates and goblets were enticingly left out in the open, but I suspect I would be found leaving with a dozen of each stuffed in my pack and no acceptable reason for it.

I continued to explore the place, but it was clear no one had been there in a very long time. Wherever the beggar's "master" had gone, it was not to this place.

Or so I thought.

One moment I was walking down a dusty hallway pulling cobwebs off of my fur and the next found me in a field, damp with a cold fog that hindered my effort to figure out just what had happened.

Some of the fog cleared, revealing a long table set for many people, but only two were present: a sullen, hunched man sitting opposite his gregarious and very colorfully-dressed dinner partner. They were discussing something, the colorful man animatedly, the sullen man with barely a mumble. 

As I approached the first stood up and the second disappeared in a flash of purple light. Nothing about any of it suggested something good, but I felt I was going to get nowhere unless I played the part I was beginning to suspect I had been set up for. The remaining man complained to me that Pelagius was being very rude and refusing to host him for dinner...for a decade or two. I had no idea what was going on, but suspected that the colorful man was the "master" the beggar had been looking for.

When he asked my business I replied that a servant of his was looking for him to return from wherever we were then. He laughed and asked how I expected to make him, Sheogorath, Daedric Prince of Madness, leave the mind of Pelagius the Third, where all three of us were stuck...or at least Pelagius and I were.

I could have been more surprised, but I find my mind has aged far quicker than the rest of me and I thought only of what task the Skooma Cat would ask of me before he would let me leave. It is the nature of the Princes to watch us scurry and no Prince is happier than when one is scurrying under his direction. That is how I feel, at least.

True to my belief, Sheogorath promised to leave, but only if I could find the way out. This did not appear difficult, there were three archways away from the dining table, one surely would be the way out of Pelagius's mind, though why I was in it to begin with is a mystery I never quite solved today.

To aid me in my desperate quest the Skooma Cat gave me a staff he called the 'Wabbajack' or something like that. Armed with a staff topped by three screaming heads I set off underneath one of the archways.

Sheogorath continued to talk as I walked away. Pelagius, according to him, had no easy home life. His mother apparently murdered people without provocation and Pelagius grew to be a fearful, paranoid King. If I remember my history correctly he died at an asylum, completely insane.

I took the story as mere rambling and came to a small arena where Pelagius was watching two Storm Atronachs fight each other while under the protection of two bodyguards.

Pelagius was unresponsive, but I found that using the staff on one of the Atronachs would turn it from Storm to Fire to Ice, then back to Storm. I thought I needed to only change "my" Atronach to defeat the other, but it would change along with mine, resulting in a battle with no end. I was at a loss, but then thought to use the staff on Pelagius...to no result.

The final words of Sheogorath's story was that Pelaguis grew to expect danger at any time from anyone and I realized this was a hint of sorts, intentional or not. I used the staff on one of his bodyguards and the man changed into a wolf, attacking Pelagius immediately. The Atronachs, the mad King, and the wolf disappeared and the Daedric Prince congratulated me on completing the puzzle.

So that was it then: The remaining two archways led to clearings as well, each with some aspect of Pelagius's fears or desires manifested in a physical way. Solving the other two puzzles required the use of the "Wabbajack", which had different results on different things at different times. I solved the other two puzzles after some trial and error.

Triumphant, I returned to Sheogorath and announced my success at calming the spirit of Pelagius's mind. He conceded his "defeat" readily and told me I was free to leave. I was about to ask him how to, exactly, when the beggar of Solitude suddenly appeared before us.

He was overjoyed to be reunited with Sheogorath again, but I cannot understand why. Perhaps it was a similar relationship as Barbas had with Clavicus Vile. No matter to me. They talked for a bit, then I found myself back in the Blue Palace with not a warning, still holding the "Wabbajack", which I suppose is my reward for curing a mind I did not know existed. A weapon so unpredictable as Sheogorath's staff is not one I want to be carrying around with me though.

It had been morning when I entered the Blue Palace, but it was evening by the time I left. I thought I had time to walk to Morthal to return a book I promised Jami a long time ago and left Solitude as the sky began to grow dark.

I came upon a trio of Dragon cultists on the road, but managed to sneak by them in the dark. Arriving at Morthal I took a room at the Inn, then spent a few minutes talking to the others in the common room. The Jarl's housecarl, Gorm, appeared distraught, but opened up to me before I even had the chance to ask him what was wrong.

He fears the Jarl is losing her sanity and asked me to deliver a sealed letter to the the Captain of the Imperial Legion stationed in Solitude, Captain Aldis. I am expected not to open the letter, of course, but I am not curious about the workings of Skyrim's politics anyway. I will give Jami her book tomorrow, deliver this letter, then see what next should be done.

Skyrim Day 067 - From the Skies, Death

22 Frostfall, 4E201

Solitude

~~~

Sorine Jurard was the remaining individual that Isran had asked me to find. A Breton, she was known to him as an inventor of some kind, he described her as being endlessly fascinated with mechanical things and was usually camping at one Dwemer ruin or another.

The last he had heard, she was seen in Markarth buying supplies for a trip into the hills north of the city. If there was a Dwemer ruin there, she would likely be found near or within it.

I used the trip as an opportunity to practice my Illusion magicka, using calming spells on the wildlife and quieting spells on myself when I wished to sneak by something instead. Despite being named the "Archmage" of Winterhold, my range of spells is quite narrow and not much used. I find that I simply do not require the use of it often. Besides, even calmed, a Sabre Cat is not a pleasant creature to walk near.

Unsurprisingly I found a Forsworn camp north of Markarth. With their leader no longer under the Silver-Blood family's thumb the strange bandits have grown more hostile and chaotic. Two attacked me with their wood-and-stone weapons, falling quickly. The melee failed to attract the attention of their brethren in the camp and I was able to sneak by without further trouble.

I came to one of the many meandering streams that run from the mountains and thought nothing of it other than to avoid the mudcrabs and avoid falling into the water.

But as I approached the water I noticed a shimmering between myself and the stream that I could not readily explain. The shimmering became more opaque and green as I drew closer, when suddenly it exploded into tendrils of angry light, flinging balls of energy at me.

I was not wholly unprepared, one of the balls careened off my shield, sending me staggering backwards as it sped towards the sky. Others followed and soon I was beset by four of these things, each trying its best to bludgeon me into submission.

They were similar to the energies that escaped at Winterhold while I was away searching for the 'Staff of Magnus'. The shimmering in the air was not familiar to me though and this is something I will have to return to the College in order to investigate further. If there are repercussions from the Eye of Magnus that we are not yet aware of they need to be dealt with as soon as possible, preferably by someone else, if I can have that hope. My sword-arm proved effective against the angry magicka and the shimmering thing disappeared once the last of its spawn did.

My quarry, Sorine Jurard, I found standing by...something that looked related to the Dwemer, but there was no true ruin around at all.

She greeted me, obviously distracted, not even asking why I was there to begin with. For all she knew then I could have been seeking her coins or her life, but she was too preoccupied with finding a satchel full of Dwemer gears that she had misplaced somewhere in the area. I had no interest in searching for her missing satchel and told her that Isran had sent me across the entire province just to find her.

Sorine was just as surprised as Gunmar to hear that her services were in demand. She said Isran had made it "exceedingly clear" that he was not interested in her help, implying quite a parting between him, Sorine, and Gunmar.

Much like Gunmar, Sorine demanded to know why Isran was having a change of heart and she was not surprised to hear of the newly awakened vampire menace. She told me that she had tried to explain to Isran three scenarios which would result in vampires overrunning the province, but he had not listened to her then. Again much like Gunmar, she appeared hesitant to help until I told her the vampires had an Elder Scroll, after which she was positively eager to start exploring this unforeseen event. Whatever got her walking back to Isran was good enough for me.

Of course I found her satchel of gears seconds after she left. A mud crab must have dragged it away from her, yet it was not more than twenty feet away...completely lost to Sorine. I wonder what help she could possibly be against vampires.

Rather than follow the foolish Breton back to Isran I proceeded around the hillside to make my way back across the opposite side. The tell-tale sounds of mining were echoing between the hills and I soon found a palisade encircling a mine of some kind. I figured the camp was for bandits or Forsworn, but I had stumbled upon another Orsimer Stronghold.

Though an outsider I would be welcome to trade so long as I did not step inside the gate...or so I thought. I approached, but instead of the cold greeting I expected I received the closest thing a Khajiit could get to a hero's welcome at an Orsimer camp. The resident wise-woman, Sharamph, declared me favorably marked by Malacath and I was hailed as Orsimer-friend, allowed inside to freely wander and mingle.

I spoke to Chief Larak, but he had little to say. I walked over to where Sharamph was mixing some concoction and opened my mouth to say...something, I forget what, when a roar from the mountains arrested everyone's attention.

The Dragon circled about harmlessly, giving every Orsimer time to don axe and bow before it chose to land at the gate. The entire tribe save for Sharamph rushed the beast, who took flight, sending streams of icy magicka down upon the angry Orsimer warriors.

Chief Larak fell at the first blast and I decided to join the fray lest more of them senselessly lost their lives. The Dragon chose to land near the gate again and I rushed it hoping to work the Dragon's great size against the confines of the hillside.

Between my Ebony blade and the remaining Orsimer, the Dragon was quickly weakened and overcome. The killing blow was mine, right between the eyes from atop its head. Daring, but I felt the Orsimer would appreciate such audacity in the wake of their Chief's death.

The way back to Solitude was quiet after that, almost unnaturally so. On a tiny island sitting amid a very small lake I found the remains of a Spriggan, long since dead, curled up against a tree trunk. Something about it unsettled me and I left quickly and walked the rest of the way to Solitude much faster.

I reached Solitude as the sun was beginning to set, the guards claiming that the Dragon and Vampire attacks were growing more frequent, heralding the end of the world. At least their end will come outside. To this day I have nightmares born from uncertain memories, being trapped underground in endless tunnels flowing with lava while a man in a golden mask stalks me. Dagoth Ur probably, but I cannot remember anything certain from my time then.

I suppose I should make for Winterhold College tomorrow. Sorine will likely take a few days to meet up with Isran, so I shall have to find something else to be bothered with or perhaps nothing if I can remember how to even do that anymore.

Skyrim Day 066 - Bearly A Problem

21 Frostfall, 4E201

Morthal

~~~

My task today was to find Gunmar, the man Isran said he would need to rebuild his Dawnguard. From what Isran said Gunmar used to be a successful bounty-hunter before he retired to tracking animals instead of people. Gunmar had been experimenting with taming some of Skyrim's more dangerous beasts before he and Isran parted and succeeded with trolls, at least according to Isran. I find the idea of "tame" troll to be unbelievable.

As I exited the chief's longhouse I saw that a horse was waiting by itself in the courtyard. Orsimer do not usually ride and it was not at the camp yesterday. Atub did not know how it came to be there and speculated that it wandered in overnight.

The problem with finding Gunmar was that Isran could not tell me where to start looking. The only thing he said was that Gunmar had last been seen in Morthal, though for what purpose he did not say. So it was to Morthal I was heading from the very south of the province.

Walking half the height of Skyrim proved to be rather boring. I was hailed by a group of drunken revelers along the side of the road, then ineffectively robbed by a Dunmer thief who reconsidered her chances and fled. I was attacked by a necromancer, but she and her skeletons were no match for me. On her body I found an unsigned letter demanding that the death of 'Malyn Varen', the Dunmer who trapped himself inside Azura's Star, would be avenged. I wonder who would care about his death. Nelacar perhaps.

I came upon another horse along the road, saddled but without an obvious rider. It seemed content to wait by the road and I do not ride, so I left the horse to whatever fate it chose.

Jonna at the Moorside Inn in Morthal had spoken to Gunmar two days prior about a contract requiring the elimination of a bear den to the south, along the river. She suggested I search the hills and caverns, he would either be there or in her Inn, drinking, which he clearly was not.

Gunmar had been after a bear, so I guessed that my chance of finding him would be best near a river or stream. I left the road near a bridge and continued along the river, stopping when I heard the roar of a Dragon above me. I turned towards the sound, prepared for a fight...but the Dragon took no notice of me and flew away.

I followed a small creek emptying from the hills into the river and was dismayed to find the body of a Khajiit at the source.

His body showed many claw marks and I thought I had found Gunmar's bear before he did. As I continued to search the area however I was approached by a Nord also sneaking about. Bandits do not typically announce themselves, so I asked the man's business.

The man was Gunmar himself, on the hunt for a family of bears who were being just as much a nuisance for the area's farmers as they had been for the unfortunate Khajiit. When I told him Isran had sent me to request his help he simply laughed, saying that Isran told him years ago that he needed no one's help. He asked what could have possibly happened to prompt Isran to seek assistance.

What happened was a family of vampires with a well-fortified castle coming into possession of what could be a genuine Elder Scroll. This was reason enough for him to reconsider his involvement with Isran and after a moment he agreed to meet with him if I helped track the family of bears.

We found the bears in a cavern underneath the creek's little waterfall. There were four of them and two of us, but we had no difficulty in slaying the bears. Gunmar started skinning the creatures and I reminded him of his new obligation to Isran, for I was not returning with him. He assured me that he would start towards Isran's "personal fortress", as he said, as soon as he received payment for his bounty. I had no interest in bear skins, so I left and returned to Morthal.

The aftermath of a battle littered the streets upon my arrival.

Black hounds lay where they fell, their hewn silver collars familiar to me from an encounter with the creatures some time ago. One of the guards remarked that two vampires had suddenly appeared with a pack of the dogs, setting themselves upon guards and townspeople alike. Those who live in Morthal are a hearty sort however and the invasion was beaten with no loss to the city.

The guards were pleased to claim the solid silver collars.

Tomorrow I will talk with Sorine Jurard, if I can find her. Isran suggested I look in the hills surrounding Karthwasten, the mining village I had hoped contained an Inn. 

Skyrim Day 054 - The Unhappiest Family Reunion

9 Frostfall, 4E201

Solitude

~~~

If I had to choose between Lydia and Serana as my companion, I would be hard pressed to make a decision within the week. Lydia may wear an expression that suggests mucking out stables is preferably to traveling with me, but at least she is quiet about it. Serana complains about getting up too early, starting out too late, the sun being out, the sun not being out, and also refuses to follow me inside anything resembling a cave or a tomb. In favor to Lydia she seemed to enjoy bashing Draugr into pieces.

Due to our relationship we were both eager to be on our way out of Morthal at first light. We left the inn before the sun burned away the morning's cold fog and made our way towards Dragon Bridge. A dog was waiting for us between Morthal and Dragon Bridge, immediately reminding me of Barbas. I nearly slew the dog right then and there, but it ran a ways into the trees, stopped, and looked at us, evidently waiting for us to follow. He led us to a small cabin in which his master lay dead, the man's journal revealing that he left his home to die in solitude of Rockjoint, accompanied only by his dog.

It is ceratinly the oddest suicide I have witnessed, Rockjoint is easily curable at any Temple or alchemist. The dog continued to follow Serana and I until we reached Dragon Bridge, after which it rushed off towards a farm and likely its new home.

A Khajiit caravan was leaving Solitude as we approached, irritating Serana as I stopped to chat and trade with them. After that she was free to direct our path over the hills to a small dock on the coast which faced an imposing, if somewhat foggy and blurry, island castle in the distance.

Naturally it was up to me to man the oars. but once we landed on the island she broke her normal silence to discuss what would happen inside Volkihar Keep. Serana thanked me for accompanying here thus far and announced that she would be staying at the Keep once my business inside was concluded, which was not a surprise. She suggested I say as little as possible inside and rely on her to speak instead. I was not willing to concede to this advice from someone who has barely said anything to me within the last few days, so I shrugged and walked up to the gatehouse.

I was challenged by a haggard-looking guard, but his demeanor changed once he saw who I was with. In a voice I can reasonably described as 'suffused with awe', he babbled about how great it was to have Serana back and welcomed her, and her "friend", to the Keep.

The gate opened and a blast of warm air stinking of death and blood rushed out of it to greet us, causing me to retch. Inside was worse: Bodies lay upon long tables next to blood-filled silver goblets, with the bloody remains of previous feasts scattered about the floor. I was glad to have Serana talking in place of myself for fear of being a poor guest via vomiting all over the hall.

Her father, Lord Harkon, greeted us cordially and demanded to know if Serana still carried his Elder Scroll. If I had not been so nauseous I might have been surprised to hear she had an actual Elder Scroll. The reunion was not a happy one. Serana was obviously annoyed at the Scroll being inquired after before her well-being, but Harkon brushed her concern off with a laugh, instead asking who I was.

Serana introduced me as her "savior" and Lord Harkon explained that his late wife had stolen his "greatest treasure" from him long ago. One could think the treasure was Serana, but was obvious that the treasure is the Elder Scroll, not the daughter. He offered me a reward of dubious value: vampirism, in exchange for my having returned it.

But this was not to be an ordinary exchange of blood. Lord Harkon bade me to behold his true form and with a crackling of magicka transformed himself into what could be described as an incredibly ugly half-giant, half-bat form.

I have no desire to look like I live inside of a child's nightmare so I rejected his offer as politely as I could while mumbling as few words as possible, but he did not take offense. He explained that in gratitude for my service I would be allowed to leave, but would never be welcome in his Keep again. Another crackling of magicka and I found myself back on the castle's jetty, for once glad to be breathing the freezing sea air of Skyrim. I gratefully took a deep breath...then promptly lost my breakfast on the shore. Heroic.

Isran will need to know that Serana's Elder Scroll was the true treasure of Dimhollow Crypt, though I have a feeling that the ancient vampiress still has a part to play in whatever the future brings. My more immediate future after rowing back to the mainland involved a room at Solitude's 'Winking Skeever' inn, but not before I was ambushed by three of the mask-wearing Dragon cultists I met in Whiterun.

Fortunately it was dark by then and they were foolish enough to use fire magicka, making it easy for me to circle around the group and eliminate them one-by-one. Warriors these cultists are not.

I reached Solitude, in solitude, just before midnight and handed over my ten Septims for a room. I need to speak with Isran, but he is on the opposite side of the province. I also should speak with the Greybeards, as well as investigate this Dragon cult that seems to be stalking me. Then there is also the matter of the Dark Brotherhood assassins I seem to be plagued with.

The list goes on and on.

Skyrim Day 053 - Dream Me Another Dream

8 Frostfall, 4E201

Morthal

~~~

With an impatient Serana trailing after me, we left the Windpeak Inn well before the sun even started to rise. It was the only thing she did not complain about all day.

This includes the attack on Dawnstar that swept in from the sea with a challenging roar. Hoping perhaps to catch the city asleep, a Dragon flew over the town as we were making our way to Nightcaller Temple.

If it hoped to cause a panic then it failed miserably. The Dragon War was a long time ago though and today's inhabitants of Skyrim are less willing to bend a knee to their supposed betters. The unfortunate Dragon died in a hail of arrow and fireballs that seemed to erupt from every corner of Dawnstar. As luck would have it, the beast's corpse smashed into the earth just behind the Inn, allowing everyone around me to witness the spectacle of a Dragonborn absorbing a soul, much to her surprise.

A small crowd gathered behind the Inn to gawk at the Dragon's skeletal corpse, one man going so far as to stand underneath the rib cage to better marvel at the creature's size. What they wound up doing with the bones is none of my concern.

After waiting ten minutes or so for Erandur's curiosity to be satiated we three continued our walk to the decrepit Nightcaller Temple.

Erandur stopped outside the door to warn me of the dangers we would find within. The Temple had been attacked by a tribe of Orsimer who were being plagued by nightmares just as Dawnstar was today. Desperately fighting back, the priests inside were slowly overpowered and released a gas throughout the Temple. This gas was normally used in their rituals to bring about a state of sleep said to allow communion with the Daedric Prince Vaermina.

Once the gas was released priest and raider alike fell asleep, protected from the natural ravages of time, but unable to wake. Erandur's warning was that both sides would likely be hostile to us once we turned off the gas, but I felt I could handle some priests and bandits. Serana thought otherwise and elected to "guard" the door while Erandur and I ventured inside to thwart the machinations of a Daedric Prince.

The cause of Dawnstar's trouble was a staff Erandur called the 'Skull of Corruption'. We could see it on a lower level of the Temple, but could not reach it at the time. The Temple itself was a large cylinder that spiraled downwards to laboratories and living quarters, each level one step closer to the Skull.

An archway further ahead was blocked by a purple barrier of magicka, but Erandur thought that the remains of the Temple's library would house a method to dispel it. He knew a lot about the temple for someone who had never been in it before and when I questioned his knowledge he admitted that he was a former disciple of Vaermina.

During the attack on the Temple Erandur fled, saving his own life at the expense of many of his brethren with the survivors being put into a sleep they would possibly never wake from. Overcome by guilt, he turned to Mara to seek comfort, waiting for a chance to redeem himself. When rumors of Dawnstar's nightmares reached him, he realized his redemption was at hand...if he could find someone to assist him.

The assistance was needed, for as we walked to the library the sleeping gas noticeably dissipated and the combatants of both sides started to wake up. The Orsimer probably cared not for who Erandur or I were, attacking us immediately. We were treated no better by the waking priests, I suppose to their perception no time had passed between the attack and today, making us a part of the raiding party. For all his guilt Erandur showed no hesitation in striking down his former brothers and sisters.

Once in the library we split up to search for an alchemy manual titled "The Dreamstride". Despite thousands of ruined pages fluttering about us Erandur was confident I would find the book we needed without much trouble. I did, the manual having escaped destruction due to being on a pedestal, away from everything else.

Inside the manual was a recipe for "Vaermina's Torpor", a concoction used by the Daedric Prince's devout to induce hallucinations mixed with plane-walking to traverse Tamriel via memories and dreams. A powerful ability, but one Erandur warned me was extremely dangerous. Some acolytes went mad after a single draught, others continued to make multiple dream-walks, only to finally come out of one without a shred of sanity.

Erandur's plan was to mix this Torpor and use it to "walk" back to when the Temple was still under attack. The barrier blocking our way would not be there and when he woke from the dream-walk he would be on the other side of it in our time, allowing him to dispel it...or so I assumed.

I guess I should not have thought a former Priest of Vaermina would be drink the ritualistic drink dedicated to Vaermina so that he could briefly traverse Vaermina's crazed plane of nightmares. No, he was a priest of Mara now, so the Torpor would not work for him any longer. But someone unaffiliated to any Princes would be allowed the honor of possibly descending into eternal, nightmarish insanity.

Me, for example.

After reading the manual Erandur was forced to admit that he would not be able to mix a vial of the Torpor for us. Instead, we descended further into the gas-filled Temple, waking and slaying Orsimer and priest as we went. Not quite the behavior I expected from a follower of Mara, but who am I to judge?

In a small laboratory we found an unbroken vial of the Torpor, Erandur urging me to drink it at once. I was a bit put off by his eagerness, but I had no choice but to trust him in this matter. Down went the sour mixture, then everything blurred and went black.

I remember being able to see, somehow, memories of the Temple's previous inhabitants floating about, like globes with little worlds inside of them. I reached for one, then felt myself falling...only to awake to a blurriness around the edges of my vision and two priests arguing in front of the Skull.

The older of the two priests referred to me as 'Brother Casimir', ordering me to proceed to the front of the Temple, through the battle, to activate the 'Miasma', the sleeping gas Erandur and I let out of the Temple as we entered.

It felt as though I was there, in the Temple, fighting the battle, yet at the same time it all seemed an illusion. I "knew" as I ran through the several skirmishes that I would not, could not, be harmed. The raiders did not have the advantage, as I expected, but it was clear that their numbers would overwhelm the defenders soon enough.

The person whose memory I was inhabiting knew that he had to venture to a pull-chain near the entrance to the Temple to release the gas and after "I" did so the dream ended and I was on the other side of the formerly-blocked doorway, Erandur waiting where he could.

He immediately started pestering me with questions about how the "Dreamstride" was, but I could only offer the explanation that it was like being there, only not. He expressed his disappointment at not being able to undergo a Dreamstride himself, then on we went.

The two priests I whose argument I witnessed were, surprisingly, waiting for us at the foot of the Skull's altar. They were angry at Erandur, an anger I initially assumed was for trespassing, but as it turned out they personally knew Erandur...who was formerly known as Casimir, the man whose memory I walked. I guess that explains why his memories were the strongest in the Temple.

Naturally, a battle was inevitable and both priests attacked at once, their long sleep hindering them not in the slightest. But they were priests, not warriors.

Our path to the Skull of Corruption was finally clear. Before arriving at Dawnstar Erandur had a ritual granted to him by Mara to send the accursed staff back to where ever it came from, prompting the guilt-ridden man to make the journey to begin with. Now free to proceed, he bounded up the stairs, no doubt eager to free Dawnstar and clear his conscience.

Moments after he began a woman's voice coyly slid into my head, enticing me to slay Erandur while he remained enthralled in his ritual and take the Skull for my own. But I have had long before now had enough to do with Daedric Princes and ignored Vaermina's prodding.

The Skull of Corruption disappeared in a flash, the workings of Mara through Erandur, formerly known as Casimir. He appeared to be quite spent after he came out of his trance, but refused my offer of an escort back to town. Instead, he planned to construct a small shrine to Mara within the Temple and tend to the grounds, perhaps to one day convert it to Mara's worship, perhaps not. Erandur also offered his companionship should I need it on my adventures. I have found I work better alone, more often than not.

Speaking of being alone, Serana was still waiting for me outside the Temple, irritated and sullen about having been stuck outside the whole time with nothing to do. She said nothing on the walk from Dawnstar to Morthal.

I decided to stop at Morthal because one of the pieces of Mehrune's Razor was said to be here. A few questions led me to a modest farmhouse. The man inside, Jorgen, knew what he was in possession of, but cared little for it anyway. Three hundred Septims bought me the hilt to the dagger, the other two pieces will likely be harder to acquire.

Another day, another problem of someone else's solved. Serana is closer yet to her family's estate, should they still be there, but what we will find once we arrive is a mystery I have some trepidation about solving.

Skyrim Day 036 - The Joys of Literature

21 Heartfire, 4E201

Winterhold

~~~

Morthal has its charms, if you find the constant stench of swamp to be attractive. The inn was comfortable enough, but I was already a day behind on my self-imposed schedule and left earlier in the morning than I was perhaps expected to.

'Hanging Gardens' was located somewhere north of Morthal, according to Urag. How the book came to be in such a book-unhealthy place is a mystery to be pondering alongside how Urag knew it was there to begin with.

The marshland was as pleasant as I expected it to be and a man walking into town as I was leaving warned me to not go into the swamps at night, advice I did not need to be told in this case. Surprisingly there were few monsters about, mostly just elk and the occasional mudcrab.

I came upon a cave marked with a lit brazier and could only guess that it might be the location of the book I was seeking. Inside I was greeted by two giant spiders, each of which fell to my bow. I thought I was facing ordinary bandits until the first one I killed started dissolving into black dust. Vampires. Terrifying to most people, the trick is in making sure they never bite you as you stab them to death.

Further inside the cave I heard someone talking to himself and watched as a vampire dragged three bodies from his cart into a nearby pit. He was so intent on his grisly task that he could not hear me creeping up behind him with my axe. One more body for the pit.

Those two were the only to die in their cave today. There were three more vampires sitting together in a small common area set with a table and chairs, but I stayed against the cavern wall, in the shadows, and passed by them with no notice at all. I am evidently becoming very skilled in not being seen, but I do not really live a life that greatly requires that. Perhaps I would make a good burglar if I was the kind of Khajiit everyone in Skyrim seems to expect.

'Hanging Gardens' was tucked into a chest underneath a a Dwemer warhammer and an Ebony mace, making the origin of the book even more mysterious. Whatever its journey, I stole the book back from the vampires and quietly exited their den.

Urag's second volume was south of Morthal, along the river. The weather was, once again, quite nice and the walk along the river peaceful, even with mudcrabs stolidly crawling at me every couple of seconds to defend their portion of the mud bank. I met a Redguard fisherwoman at her shack and paid her a few Septims for some dried fish.

The entrance to the bandit hideout was a great deal less ambiguous than the vampires'.

I suspect the bodies to have been dug up, for the bandits were organized more as a blacksmith's shop than a group of dangerous outlaws. Four of the six bandits died with smithing tools in their hands, not weapons. 'Shalidor's Insights' was also in a chest underneath a collection of valuable armaments.

With that I began the walk back to the College. Nothing interesting happened and I stepped into the icy courtyard just after midnight. As expected most of the instructors and students were still awake, toying with whatever experiments allowed them to ignore the rest of the province. 

Arniel was happy to receive his ten Dwemer cogwheels and Urag to have a copy of 'Hanging Gardens' and the unreadable' Shalidor's Inights'. He assured me that the latter could be translated if I gave him a day or two. I have no interest in such a thing, but I thanked him anyway.

I need to get rid of the stone plaque I found underneath Bleak Falls Barrow. I think I will simply prop it against something in the Arch-Mage's room and invite everyone in to see if they know what to do with it.

Skyrim Day 035 - Ghost Women and Metal Men

20 Heartfire, 4E201

Morthal

~~~

Retrieve some books or get distracted twice, dive into two ruins each occupied by a different group of hostile people, and be rewarded by some coin, more fatigue, and a mounting list of things to do the next day? I wound up choosing the latter, of course, but I complain when I am stuck at the College only to complain once I am free to roam. Nevertheless, this day offered some hints towards adjustments I could be making for myself, advice I am always glad to receive.

I thought I would visit Morthal first to get the first of Urag's books, then walk through Dragon Bridge to retrieve the second. The Nightgate inn's lack of comfort, heating, or quiet ensured I was up at two in the morning, not quite ready for the day's journey but unable to fall back asleep anyway. After a quick breakfast and a glare at the bard practicing in the common room at such an early hour I left the village and proceeded down another snowy road.

Under the bright moon I met with the Khajiit caravan, run by Ahkari, which Kharjo is tasked with guarding. Trading had been profitable for them so Ahkari was happy to pay for the assortment of jewelry taken from the assassins and ruins I seem unable to avoid. Kharjo wished me well and we parted ways, again.

The moon settled down for another day's rest and the sun had risen several hours ago when I turned the corner of the cobblestone road just in time to watch a mammoth catch a hunter with its tusks, flinging the woman thirty feet through the air. She hid the ground head-first with a too-familiar crack, her head broken from the impact against the frozen earth.

The mammoth stomped away and stopped next to a dead Giant, its sinewy body stuck full of cheap-looking arrows. The unfortunate huntress evidently killed the master only to fall against the pet...I think. My understanding of Skyrim's unique semi-intelligent herders is not very clear and I do not know what the relationship is between the Giants and their mammoths. All I know is that tangling with either is asking for trouble no one needs.

On the subject of trouble no one needs, I briefly ventured off the road near Dawnstar and came upon a magnificent Dwemer fortress in seemingly excellent condition.

My pride as an adventurer, if such a thing exists, would not let me pass the fortress without stopping for a cursory look around. I hoped to also find the remaining Dwemer cogs for Arniel. This, of course, meant that several bandits met their end, but that is now nearly a daily occurrence. Once I finished stalking the courtyard I proceeded inside and was almost immediately rewarded by battle debris left from a fight between the bandits and the Dwemer constructs. I found the required cogwheels without much trouble and could have left then, but curiosity insisted that I proceed.

Inevitably the bandits were replaced by Falmer as I crept deeper into the fortress, with the Dwemer constructs a constant, noisy companion. Why bandits see Dwemer ruins as great places to camp in I shall never know, for the Falmer are always there first and will likely always kill whomever stays there for longer than a day. One of the Falmer I shot down had a desiccated human heart in his pouch, a grisly trophy from a battle some time ago.

I made it through bandits and Falmer only to find myself facing one of the massive Dwemer battle-men similar to the one I had ran away from in Alftand.

There was no running away from this thing, yet all I had on me was my dagger, a bow, and an Ebony war axe I had won from a Draugr in the ruin where I found my first Nordic 'word'. Now I have never before wielded an axe in battle, but I felt nonetheless that my chances against the giant machine would go up if I wielded something with a reach longer than eight inches.

Unaccustomed to the lack of balance on the axe, my first few swings were probably more dangerous to myself than my opponent. But my next swings were directed into the thing's legs, satisfyingly crushing in the Dwemer plate protecting its joints. It attempted to defend itself, but even with the axe I was far too quick. We danced around for what felt like a long time before I managed to work a plate free of the machine, exposing the levers and gears beneath. Once these were destroyed the thing collapsed and I drove the butt-spike of the axe into its chest, silencing it forever.

The axe dislodged something in its chest and a bit of digging around revealed a a spherical shell with a red gemstone set inside of it. There were knobs on the outside of the shell that allowed for some sort of adjustment, but I could not figure out what to do with it. Whatever it was it appeared to be the power source for the machine and I guessed it to be valuable to someone, somewhere, so into my pack it went.

A door on the far side of our arena led to an elevator platform which deposited me back on to the surface of Skyrim. It was still day, the weather was clear, and there did not seem to be anything that could prevent me from recovering at least one of the books today. Save, of course, for my curiosity again.

I had only taken a dozen steps along the road when I heard the sound of fighting in the direction of a packed snow path off of the road. Thinking someone might be fighting for their lives against bandits, I drew my bow and tried to be as fast and sneaky as I could at the same time. I need not have worried. By the time I reached the fighting it was already over: a woman was walking away from the bodies of two bandits sprawled on stairs leading into a Nordic burial crypt and while she was surprised to see me, she was not hostile.

She introduced herself as Eisa Blackthorn, former bandit of the White River Gang, a group I had no knowledge of, and a more-recently former member of treasure hunters camping inside of the crypt. Eisa stated that she and another hunter had been marked for death after the disappearance of the boss's sword. She fought her way outside the crypt, but the other hunter had gone further inside, ranting about a lady he had to see there. She invited me to explore the mystery myself, but stated she would have nothing more to do with the entire business. What that she walked down the path to the road and I, having been provided another mystery to solve, stepped over the bodies and entered the crypt.

There was nothing interesting about it, other than that the treasure hunters (bandits) had discovered a forest somehow growing underground. One of them, the other hunter Eisa spoke about, went mad after exploring the area and stole a sword from the group's leader. That was all I found out from listening to the bandits talk among themselves before they died.

I arrived at the forested area just in time to witness the mad hunter attack a ghostly woman who killed him almost instantly.

This forest was dim, cold, and misty, as unpleasant as it was unusual. The ghost resembled a creature I have fought before: a bluish-green semi-transparent woman wearing wraps about her who was able to command wisps to fight alongside her. Whatever these things are, this one also had the ability to create copies of herself as well as wisps. She lacked endurance however and dissipated into nothing after only a few blows from my axe.

The dead hunter was a sparsely clothed Khajiit and he managed to retain his grip on the stolen sword even in death. It was a short blade, no more than a foot and a half and oddly shaped from a dark steel. The weapon fit perfectly on a pedestal just in front of the mad Khajiit, making me wonder if the ghost had not called the Khajiit to steal the blade back to her for some purpose. I had no need of it so I placed it on the pedestal and started towards a staircase carved into the rear of  the cavern.

As I approached I noticed that the stone alongside it was worked and through the mist I realized it was almost exactly as the other stone monuments which taught me the Nordic words. As before certain runes in the stonework began to glow as I drew closer.

A blinding light, a crippling pain in my head, and suddenly I knew the runes for 'flesh of ice', a phrase utterly mystifying without context. Now nursing a terrific headache I stumbled up the stairs and into a clear Skyrim night.

There was no place to stay between the crypt and Morthal, so it was early in the morning when I finally arrived at the dismal place, my head pounding and my feet slightly less so.

The room was the standard ten Septims per night and I settled in to write this just after midnight. One of the volumes Urag wanted is just north of Morthal, so I am confident I will be recovering at least one of them, if not both, tomorrow. Then it is back to the College again.