Skyrim Day 000 - A New Start

16 Last Seed, 4E201

Bruma

~~~

It has been a long time since I have felt the urge to write down my thoughts. The curse of the now-forgotten Dagoth Ur turned out to be just as I feared: I am well over two hundred and twenty years old. If his curse had turned me into a vampire I would not have been surprised by this, but instead I alternately benefit and suffer from an immunity to diseases, an inexhaustible well of magicka to draw upon, and as of seventy-five years ago or so, the healing of wounds within moments that would otherwise take weeks.

But I am getting ahead of myself. So that I shall not forgot, I may as well start from the last time I kept a journal.

After the conclusion of the Oblivion Crisis I stayed in Cyrodiil for some time leading small patrols of volunteers out of Bruma to walk the roads of Cyrodiil just to keep them clear of predators and bandits. Later, as the Empire continued to die, the provincial cities became unable to afford a salaried Guard and I would regularly visit each city to train volunteers. It was not a glamorous life, but there was a measure of certainty and peace to it. I would learn, much later, that some of the volunteers formed a band calling themselves the 'Keepers of the Razor', though I never learned what the Razor actually was or what they did.

Morrowind's Red Mountain erupted a few years after the Crisis, destroying most of the province and likely killing everyone there I had met. Smelling a wounded foe, the Argonians withdrew from the Empire and invaded Morrowind, weakening the Empire greatly after the Legion failed to respond. The High Chancellor was assassinated a few years after that and the remainder of the Council slid into impotency.

They manged to place a madman upon the Throne for a few years and the Throne lost its hold on the rest of the races. The Orcs were driven from their home by the Bretons and the Redguards and the High King of Skyrim gave the island of Solstheim to the Dunmer in what I would have called a generous gesture if I had not spent time on that island already.

The insane Emperor was soon overthrown by a bandit warlord who styled himself 'Emperor Titus Mede' after marching his troops into the Imperial City. I prudently buried my Imperial Dragon armor somewhere in the hills of Bruma and left the province via the Pale Pass before anyone of the warlord's started looking for the 'Champion of Cyrodiil'. I had a suspicion anyone who would be looking for me would not be seeking an autograph.

I disappeared into Skyrim for a long time, taking odd jobs and occasionally serving as a bodyguard to merchants and the like. It was not a satisfying life, but the world continued to become more chaotic and I relished my near-anonymity in the home of the Nords.

The Thalmor seized the Sumerset Isles maybe ten years after the Emperor's coronation and contact with the province was completely lost for almost seventy years. The floating Daedric city of Umbriel ravaged Black Marsh, Morrowind, and Cyrodiil before it left as unexpectedly as it arrived, further weakening the Legion.

Fifty years later the disappearance of the moons Masser and Secunda triggered the two years known as the 'Void Nights' between 4E98 and 4E100. The Thalmor were quick to credit themselves with the return of the moons, earning the gratitude of Elsweyr which would break from the Empire soon after. Fools.

With a Thalmor-allied province so close to the Imperial City war was inevitable. After the ascension of Emperor Titus Mede the Second the Empire was limited to three healthy provinces: Cyrodiil, High Rock, and fortunately for me, Skyrim. Without the continent-spanning taxes and manpower, the Legion was a shadow of what it had been during the Crisis. So when the Thalmor invaded in 4E171 the Emperor fought a fighting retreating from the Imperial City to link up with the Legion in Skyrim. The Imperial City was occupied by Thalmor soldiers and I often wonder if Martin's statue still remains. Probably not.

In the following year the Emperor returned to Cyrodiil and re-occupied his city, taking such losses that he signed the White-Gold Concordat peace treaty, surrendering to all of the Thalmor's demands. The local government of Hammerfell refused to recognize the treaty and continued to battle the Thalmor, causing the Emperor to formally remove it from the Empire. Hammerfell actually "won" its battle and became an independent, though impoverished, province some time later.

As for Skyrim, a band of rebels took the undefended city of Markarth after the Emperor had marched back to Cyrodiil with Skyrim's legions and were eventually driven out by a Nord Jarl, Ulfric Stormcloak, and his militia, a battle which became known as the Markarth Incident.

This act of loyalty to the Empire bore bitter fruit, for the White-Gold Concordat forbade worship of Talos and the Empire was forced to adhere to the treaty, apparently going back on their promise they made to the Jarl in exchange for the return of Markarth. Ulfric was arrested and later released, becoming the Jarl of Windhelm. Peace in Skyrim followed for a number of years and I left the province and returned to Cyrodiil just in time to take part in a three-way war within Bravil between the guards and two powerful skooma dealers. After that business was concluded I continued to wander about, mostly laboring on farms and such for a few days at a time. No one remembered the 'Champion of Cyrodiil' any longer and that's fine with me.

But you can only wander around the same places so many times before people start questioning why you never seem to age. So it's back to Skyrim I go, a land that likely thinks all Khajiit look the same anyway. On a lark I tried to dig up the Imperial Dragon armor of so long ago, only to discover I have completely forgotten where I buried it.

Having sought for so many years to keep a low profile, I have also forgotten much of what I used to know about magicka and combat and I hope to keep it all forgotten, lest I draw attention upon myself that I really do not want. All that has to happen is that someone sees a sword slash upon myself close up and heal in seconds and its to the Thalmor I will go, a fate I am eager to avoid.

Tomorrow I will sneak into Skyrim again via the Pale Pass and take up work somewhere for awhile. I confess to being completely bored with my unending life and have come to the realization that despite all the benefits it provided me, Dagoth Ur's curse is really just that. I do not anticipate making many journal entries in the times ahead, for what excitement follows a day of chopping wood?

Morrowind Day 0 - Introduction

15 Last Seed

~~~

Of all the words an Imperial recruit wanted to hear "Punishment detail" was certainly on the top. However, "Your first posting will be on the island of Morrowind" probably came in a close second. 

But for the sake of posterity, I'd better introduce myself to my own journal before I write any more. My name is Kerra, no last name given, a Khajiit of Cyrodiil, born and raised, I suppose. Certainly born, but my earliest memories are of lying on the stone steps of The Temple of the One, barely three years of age. I was fortunate to be taken in by the priests and nearly apprenticed myself to the Temple before the priests talked me into volunteering for the Imperial Legion Auxiliaries. I suspect they didn't know how to tell me that a Khajiit priest was simply not going to work, but I bear them no ill will. Thanks to them I had ample food, shelter, and education, more than most would have gotten with similar beginnings.

My last night at the Temple was a restless one. I wasn't combative, or even strong and what brief episodes of sleep I managed to get was plagued by blood, screams, and fields of dismembered corpses, all of them mine. Nevertheless, I set out for the Auxiliaries office early in the morning, determined to see what they were about. I figured I could simply desert one night if I wanted to.

The Auxiliaries were not quite what I thought they were. My nightmares had led me to expect something along the lines of a lighter infantry than the Legion's standard. When I arrived at the address the priests had given me I saw no mustering yard, no armory, not even one of the city's guard loitering at the entrance. A knock on the door revealed it to be unlatched and opened, so I walked in. The room was small and rectangular, bisected by a large wooden desk that was probably just as solid as the stone walls around it. A small wooden bench had been set along one of the walls, but the diminutive man at the desk beckoned me to approach.

A brief interview yielded a sheet of parchment with my name and the phrase "Field Observation Operative" under it. Directions to the actual Imperial Legion recruitment center were helpfully attached. 

When I reported to the recruitment center (armory, mustering yard and city guardsman also helpfully attached), I presented the parchment and was immediately sent into a small building attached to the main yard. Turns out the Auxiliaries should properly be called the Irregulars. They take in just about anyone with skills the Empire feels it can use to its advantage. In my case, the education I had at the Temple, combined with the physical labor I was typically employed with lent well to their needs. I wound up getting a smattering of magical education supplemented by a great deal of combat and survival skills. 

That was three months ago. I've since been employed locally, often along with a more experienced Auxiliary, though the tasks are not great. There is little chance for adventure in Cyrodiil and I've grown tired of chasing away bears and cutting back overgrown trails. I was told this morning that I'm being reassigned to the island province of Morrowind.

Morrowind. Derided among the Legion as a backwater, or as one particularly uncouth Legionarie described it: "The ass-end of the Empire". From what materials I've hurridely been able to consult between odd jobs today, as a Khajiit, slavery is going to be my largest concern, second to the rampant xenophobia I'll be facing. I'd feel better about this if I knew why I was going there without any equipment whatsoever, but I've led a fortunate life so far and hopefully my luck continues to hold out.

- Kerra, Cyrodiil, Imperial Legion Auxiliary barracks (for lack of a better term)