Skyrim Day 024 & 025 - Mzulft, the Unpronounceable Ruin

9 Heartfire, 4E201

Whiterun

~~~

No rest for the weary indeed.

I woke yesterday morning and once again sought out Mirabelle to see if she could answer my latest questions. While wandering about the College I briefly stopped to chat with J'zargo, but he only had boastful things to say about himself, as I suspect is usual. Mirabelle admitted that no one knew where the Staff of Magnus was, but that one of the magical factions in Cyrodiil, the Synod, had recently sent its members to the College to inquire after the same. After sending them away she overheard them discuss their next destination: the Dwemer ruin of Mzulft.

According to what she heard, the ruin was dug into the mountains along the hot springs where I had visited the tree 'Eldergleam'. Another long walk.

So it was out into the snow and ice once again. I had not made it far outside Winterhold before I began to hear shouting carried along by the ever-present stormy winds. Ahead of me a group of hunters were trying to shoot down a Troll that had wandered into their camp. By the time I had gotten close enough to effectively fire my crossbow the hunters were dead and the Troll weakened enough that two bolts into its back were enough to put it down.

One of the hunters had ring with a minor enchantment, but the rest just had bows, axes, and leathers. I found a book inside of one of the tents that provided guidance on how better to move silently while armored, a skill I feel I must continue to work on.

It was early in the afternoon when I arrived at the springs and a helpful hunter directed me towards Mzulft, warning me that others had entered, but none yet left. With that she wished me luck, resuming her scraping of the hide of some creature unfortunate enough to find its way in front of her bow.

The ruins appeared to be similar to every other Dwemer ruin I have visited, it appears they did not value creativity, variety, or artistic talent of any sort. A small, locked storeroom built outside the entrance yielded to my meager lock-picking skill, but there was nothing of value inside and only one item of interest: a curiously blue, metallic emblem.

Naturally I took it.

Just inside the main entrance a man lay dying, a mage of Synod order. All I could hear of his last moments was the word "Oculory". On his body I found the group's journal, which was not helpful, and a key to proceed further into the ruin, which was.

Mzulft contains all of the decorations common with the Dwemer: stoic visages and tubes that shot burning steam everywhere. The constructs were still clattering around well after their architects had departed this Plane, but this was not my first Dwemer ruin, try as I might to limit my adventures into them. I recognized the portals built into the walls that would likely eject a hostile machine as I passed and the spider-like creations patrolling the halls proved rather susceptible to crossbow bolts.

Deeper inside the ruin were the detestable Chaurus, large insects that could swarm an unlucky adventurer if she found herself overwhelmed or asleep. One of these two things had happened to a Synod mage camping atop a hastily-built watchtower, but I only encountered the bugs one at a time and had no difficulty with them.

The natural cavern merged back into the Dwemer architecture and the Chaurus were replaced with more Dwemer creations that fell out of holes in the walls, crawled from behind steam vents, and generally made as much a nuisance of themselves as they could. The spider-like crawling things were the most common, but more articulated warriors were built into spheres that they managed to roll on while firing crossbows at me and swinging blades. Defeating one of them earned me a handful of Dwemer crossbow bolts which, surprisingly, fit my own.

These warriors seemed to draw their power from soul gems inserted into their foreheads and I managed to salvage a 'Greater' soul gem which I am sure I can sell for a decent amount.

Eventually my soul gem collecting brought me to a door in front of which lay a dead Falmer, as if murderous machines and acid-spitting giant bugs were not enough trouble.

Evidently the creature succumbed to injuries sustained against two destroyed Dwemer spider-machines and I had little doubt there would be more Falmer behind the door. I have little experience with fighting the things, for my time spent in Skyrim previously was largely limited to chopping wood and walking alongside wagons, activities which kept me from the underground where the Falmer exclusively lived. It is said their dwelling underground has blinded them, but that their hearing is exceptional. That may be true, but also fails to explain how they still manage to craft their crude swords and shields.

The blind Falmer fell one after another to my Dwemer crossbow bolts and I continued deeper into Mzulft, finding absolutely nothing else of interest or value. Eventually my wandering brought me before a door with the trembling voice of an Imperial sounding behind it, Paratus Decimius, the sole survivor of the Synod expedition.

Paratus explained that his group had been trying to find a focusing crystal to power an astronomy machine that would lead them to objects of great power. I searched through my satchel for anything that appeared to be a crystal, but the only thing I had was the blue emblem which he dismissed as worthless. However, what I took to be a Falmer ornament wound up being the crystal Paratus sought. He led me to the astronomy machine and placed the focusing crystal on top of it.

Instantly a beam of light shot from the crystal into the ceiling.

According to Paratus the crystal could be manipulated by striking it with frost and fire magicka, two things I am not very good at doing. He took my honesty rather poorly, snapping that it was fortunate for me that a member of his team brought the simplest books he could find to sell in Skyrim. I ignored his attempts at humor and studied the books. They were, as he said, very simple and after a bit of study I felt ready to try both sets of spells.

The fire magicka did nothing when directed against the crystal, but the frost spell rotated it within the cradle, reflecting the beam of light into multiple points along the ceiling. After some minutes of exhausting myself with the easiest of Destruction magicka, Paratus nodded and told me to manipulate the buttons behind the machine to spin the ceiling until each beam of light was focused into its own mirror.

This was simple enough, each button turned one of the rings on the ceiling by a certain amount. Lining each one up with the reflected beams was trivial.

Once directed, the beams reflected back into the crystal and projected a surprisingly detailed map of the Tamriel on the wall.

I figured that Paratus would be happy with this result, but he was quite angry. He asked if I was playing some sort of joke on him, but I had no idea what he was talking about. According to his ranting the map should have shown the location of several magical artifacts the Synod were interested in but he claimed "interference" was affecting the output of the Dwemer machine, causing it to point to the College he and his colleagues had left several days ago. He shouted that if "we" wanted the Staff of Magnus so badly then "we" could meet our deaths in Labyrinthian for all he cared...which is exactly the information I had come to Mzulft to find. It was back to the College for me.

As I was leaving the ruins a mage of the Psijic Order popped into existence before me and congratulated me on what little progress I had made, stating that I was on the way towards the aversion of catastrophe. A nice morale booster, that.

Accustomed to using the sun to determine the time of day, I was confused for a moment as I stepped back outside, only to realize that it was already the next day, 9 Heartfire, and I had spent the previous afternoon, evening, and entire night fighting in the ruins of Mzulft. Fate was kind to this tired Khajiit and the long walk back to the College of Winterhold was completed without any incident.

My arrival at the College however was met with quite a bit of incident. The stupid Thalmor, Arcano, managed to shield the Hall of Elements from everyone while he worked on unlocking the mysterious Eye of Magnus. Arch-Mage Savos and Mirabelle were at the entrance when I arrived, both of them attempting to overwhelm the barrier with powerful magicka.

The Arch-Mage insisted that I lend my meager ability towards their effort and miraculously all three of us managed to destroy Arcano's barrier. Savos immediately charged at Arcano as Mirabelle shouted a warning to not do just that. Her warning was not heeded and suddenly there was a blinding explosion.

I woke moments later against the stone wall outside a second barrier. Mirabelle was nearby, slouched against a column. The Arch-Mage was nowhere to be seen, the explosion having flung him into the courtyard, killing him. Tolfdir and the other members of the College came running out of the dormitories, but towards the town of Winterhold, not the body of the Arch-Mage. They stopped at my shout and only then did they realize the Arch-Mage was dead. But there were worse things about than a dead mage. The explosion had somehow brought forth a herd of floating spirits that were busy attempting to level the unfortunate town. Tolfdir and the others had been running to the town's aid before I stopped them. With the Arch-Mage's death Tolfdir decided to keep everyone inside the college, sending me, of course, to the town alone.

Faralda was still guarding the entryway to the College, cautiously zapping any of the spirits that wobbled too close to her. She seemed relieved to see me, suggesting that the both of us work together to clear the town of whatever the things were. I agreed and we crept into the deserted town, the villagers and guards having taken refuge within the few buildings still standing. With my crossbow and Farlda's spells, the little balls of energy had no chance.

The situation was just as grim when we returned to the College. Faralda joined the others in the dormitory and I entered the Hall of Elements to check on Mirabelle. Arcano's barrier was still up, but the Arch-Mage's second-in-command was still okay, though a bit shaky.

I told her that the Staff of Magnus was to be found in Labyrinthian, between Whiterun, Solitude, and Morthal. She appeared puzzled or possibly concussed, remarking that the Arch-Mage had gifted her with an ordinary necklace before he died, stating that she would know what to do with it when the time came. Mirabelle decided that the time came about half an hour after that, handing me the necklace while telling me she was sure it would be helpful where I was going. I do hope she did not strike her head too hard on the column.

So it was back on the road for me without any sleep. An Argonian leaped at me from behind some bushes and died with a very surprised look on his face as he impaled himself on my sword. He had a very nice Dwemer dagger, which I am happy to now call my own.

It was late into the evening when I arrived at Whiterun, but a courier was waiting for me nonetheless. He handed me a sealed scroll, bowed, and left for the city's gate as I began to walk by him. The scroll was an invitation to an incredibly cruel joke.

A museum dedicated to the Mythic Dawn, the cult which destroyed the Septim lineage and brought the Empire to its knees, almost in submission to Mehrunes Dagon. Only through my unsung effort and the sacrifice of Martin Septim was the destruction of civilization averted, though at great cost.

And now someone wanted to give them a museum? Such arrogance from this Silus Vesuius person certainly deserves a personal response. The museum is also his home in Dawnstar, a village I found many years ago to be hostile to Khajiit looking for work. I believe it is time for another visit.

One of the Khajiit caravans was stopped at Whiterun, allowing me to unload a great deal of jewelry and gemstones taken along the way in exchange for a fine Dwemer long blade. The caravan master, Ri'Saad and I spoke of our respective travels for a bit and we parted cordially, his people beginning to set up camp for the night. The sight of the Khajiit gathering around the fire made me feel a bit lonely, so I hurried into the city so that I might be distracted.

It felt like a very long walk from the inside of the city gate to the 'Bannered Mare' inn, but I finally am gong to be getting a good night's rest. Tomorrow I strike for Labyrinthian and the Staff of Magnus. I joined the College so that I might further my skill and have yet to actually perform any useful magicka there. Such is my life.

Skyrim Day 023 - The Midden and the Augur

7 Heartfire, 4E201

Winterhold

~~~

I did not have it in me this morning to stop at Morthal for the book, but I have no doubt I will be in that area at some point in the future anyway. Instead I left Whiterun and spent most of the morning walking the road back to Winterhold. As I left what could be considered the "end" of Whiterun I witnessed two city guards drag the bodies of three bandits away from one of the city's watchtowers. The banditry is getting bolder, if not smarter.

Near a farm I came upon another horse-and-cart, but this time its owner was very much alive. But if a person can be said to be unhinged, then this fellow had his door removed completely.

The little Imperial was dressed as a jester and introduced himself as 'Cicero'. Cicero had a very odd way of speaking: sort of singing, sort of whining, and somewhat poetic. I was able to understand that the cart belonged to him and that it was carrying the casket of his dead mother whom he hoped to re-bury (I assume) somewhere in Skyrim. But the wagon wheel had broken and he was unable to fix it himself.

Fortunately he had broken down right in front of a farm, but he said the farmer there was not willing to help him repair the wagon and the guardsman who was patrolling the road had not been any more helpful. I offered to speak with the farmer on his behalf and he did a little dance in front of me and offered bags of gold if I succeeded.

The farmer, Vantus Loreius, watched me warily as I walked up from the road and spoke first, telling me that there was no way he was getting involved with the strange man's wagon trouble. I pointed out that the quickest way to get rid of him was to fix the wagon, but he countered with the idea of going to the guard and having the man arrested. But then his wife spoke up and chided Vantus for not being "neighborly" and helping someone in need. With that his defenses collapsed and he sheepishly asked me to tell "that little Imperial" that he would be by shortly with tools to repair the wagon. My reward was another dance and three pouches of coins. I had no reason to wait to see the wagon fixed, so I wished Cicero and his late mother luck and continued on to Winterhold.

While on my way through the pass between Whiterun and Winterhold I found a horse standing placidly next to the body of what was probably a bandit.

Judging by the angle of the woman's broken neck she had been thrown from the horse and struck the frozen soil with her head, hopefully killing her instantly. If that were the case the horse did not seem bothered by it

It has only been a few hundred years since I have last ridden a horse, but the skill came back to me rather quickly...which was the only thing quick about the ride. I vaguely remember the horses of Cyrodiil being fast, but I could have ran faster than this horse galloped. It was considerably more sure-footed on the snow and ice than a quicker horse, so it did end up being worth the jostling I received, even if it had killed its former rider.

When I arrived back at Winterhold I sold the horse to a lucky guardsman for ten Septims and walked across the precarious-looking bridge to the College. Tolfdir and Savos had somehow managed to transport our treasure from Saarthal to Winterhold and while the image of them rolling the giant metal sphere across the snow and ice is amusing, they must have teleported it into the hall.

The ever gruff Urag gro-Shub was rather gracious in the acceptance of the missing volumes and presented me a gift of six much more common books, each a lesson in the use of a particular school of magic. He then suggested that I seek out Tolfdir to receive my next assignment pertaining to the College's new hall centerpiece and asked me to bring Tolfdir the 'Night of Tears', though having read it myself I could not see what help it would be.

Ancano chose that moment to make his entrance by striding into the Hall and politely insisting that Tolfdir find somewhere else to be. Tolfdir did not take the interruption likely, as he had just begun what I am beginning to understand is his favorite activity: lecturing. He left with the promise to issue a complain to the Thalmor Embassy and then it was just Ancano and I alone in the Hall with the giant, levitating ball.

Ancano only wanted to tell me that a visitor had arrived at the College and was waiting for me in the Arch-Mage's quarters, not an announcement I felt Tolfdir had to be dismissed over. I had little choice but to follow him upstairs to speak with whomever this was.

I should have known: the "visitor" was another Psijic mage. As soon as I opened my mouth to ask what his Order needed now the world froze and turned white.

I was still able to ask my question, but received far more of an answer than I had wanted. According to the mage, the artifact hovering in the College's Hall was known as the "Eye of Magnus", an artifact said to have been created by Magnus, the God of Magic. The mage said disaster was now unavoidable due to events that had already transpired, so naturally I asked him what was expected of me before an inevitable disaster. His response was one I might have received hundreds of years ago: do your best to contain it. He suggested that I speak with someone or something called the 'Augur of Dunlain' who would know more about what I needed to do.

With that the world regained its color and the mage excused himself to a very confused Arch-Mage and Thalmor. Ancano demanded to know what had happened, but he was in the Arch-Mage's personal residence and was asked, politely of course, to leave.

But when I asked Savos about the Augue he was only able to point me back to Tolfdir, so feeling a little silly I went back to the Hall where Tolfdir had been kicked out moments before.

Tolfdir knew of the Augur and offhandedly commented that he used to be a student at the College before his studies and experimentation went disastrously wrong and he became what he is today. I felt that sort of personal history deserved a bit more detail, but Tolfdir was not able to provide much more. His name long forgotten, the former student now went by the title of 'Augur of Dunlain' and resided, for lack of a better word, in the College midden accessible via a trapdoor in the courtyard.

The midden was half storage area, half illicit training ground. Skeletons raised and fallen by students littered the entire area as well as Draugr that students had lost control over. I also had to contend with more more natural predators in the form of giant spiders which were occupying a corner of the midden.

There was evidence scattered about the whole area that pointed towards generations of College students having retreated to the midden to further their own research, some of the evidence looking unfortunately violent. Some of the evidence was very interesting though, one being a magical "forge" of some sort that a nearby journal claimed could take several items and turn them into an Atronach.

The journal did warn that the Atronachs would not arrive loyal, so I fail to see the usefulness of such a tool, elegantly designed though it might be.

The only other item of deceitful interest was an obsidian altar which terminated in a gauntlet that appeared to be reaching for something. Again, a nearby journal explained what I was looking at. It began by declaring that the "missing students" had been found dead around the altar, their wounds being consistent with something the author called "conjurer's burn", a phrase apparently describing burns to the hands and arms. The author, an instructor at the time, removed four rings from the gauntlet's fingers and stored them at the College while they awaited examination from a master of Conjuration magics. Something to keep in mind for the future, perhaps.

I found the Augur in a little room of his (its?) own, hovering above a pool of what appeared to be oil.

Whatever he was now the Augur was surprisingly open and helpful about my problem. Right away he warned me that Arcano had already come down to the Midden to speak with him about the Eye of Magnus and that his interest would lead to his death and disaster for the College. 

Despite his incorporeal and presumably immortal form the Augur of Dunlain seemed to lean towards helping the College over the interests of the Thalmor. He instructed me to return to Savos and tell the Arch-Mage that Magnus's staff was required to harness, or perhaps just contain, the power within the Eye of Magnus. Without it, as Arcano is, usage of the Eye could destroy the College or worse.

Having said that, he withdrew into his pool of oil, leaving me with no time to ask any further questions. I made my way back out of the midden via a short passageway which deposited me on the shore, about one hundred feet beneath where I wanted to be.

I was not as fortunate during this walk as I have been recently. The weather cleared up as I made my way up the shoreline, but I was attacked by three black dogs that each had glowing red eyes and over-sized fangs occupying a distended mouth. Fearsome though they looked, they were still just dogs and I claimed a beaten silver collar from each one of them. I do wonder where they came from to have collars on.

The only other encounter I had was with a goat who trotted along with me as we passed the as-yet not-visited Shrine of Azura.

I went immediately to the Arch-Mage's quarters when I finally arrived back at the College, but he was not there despite it being several hours past midnight. Instead I found him in the Hall pondering the Eye of Magnus. I told him we needed to find the Staff of Magnus and once again was told to speak with Mirabelle. By this time some of the early risers were waking up for breakfast, so I shall only be getting an hour or two of sleep.

No rest for the weary.

Skyrim Day 022 - Just Books?

6 Heartfire, 4E201

Whiterun

~~~

"Find Mirabelle" was the only task I had from the College's Arch-Mage before he left for Saarthal in order to speak with Tolfdir about the metal egg. So after another quick breakfast I started the day as I did yesterday: wandering around a largely deserted school.

I did not have to wander long before I nearly ran into Mirabelle inside the 'Hall of Elements'. I asked her what she knew of the Psijic Order and received information I already knew. She was even less helpful with the business underneath Saarthal and told me to speak with Urag gro-Shub instead.

Urag demanded to know why I had not returned with the 'Hanging Gardens' and I had to point out that I only learned of it yesterday and have so far been too involved with my studies at the College to allow for a trip to Morthal. He begrudgingly agreed and asked what brought me back to the library. When I told him I needed books about Saarthal he sighed and told me that he did not have any books on the subject.

But he used to. A former student named 'Orthorn' had taken several books from the College as he sneaked out some time ago seeking to join a band of necromancers practicing their art at a ruined castle called 'Fellglow Keep', near Whiterun.

On my way out of the College I was accosted by Ancano, the Thalmor which Faralda had warned me of yesterday. He wanted to know what Tolfdir and I had found under Saarthal, but the only response I had was the honest one: I did not know. He assumed I was lying and cautioned me about the consequences of betraying the Thalmor. I wonder what he would have said if I had told him I was already wanted by his particular organization.

The walk from Winterhold to Fellglow Keep was surprisingly without incident. I passed a large fortress apparently garrisoned by the undead and spoke with a patrol of Imperial Legionnaires for a few minutes, but was spared the bandits, assassins, and wolves my journeys are normally plagued by.

The exterior of Fellglow Keep was guarded only by a single necromancer and his Flame Atronach, neither of which felt the crossbow bolts that ended their lives. I could not open the main door to the Keep, but a few minutes of searching revealed a second door dug into the earth that, for some reason, opened into a small prison area. Why the Keep has a second entrance no more than thirty feet from the first one is a mystery, but it saved me the trouble of waiting outside until someone else's shift came up.

This entrance was guarded by another necromancer just as easily felled by a bolt, plus two giant spiders, each of which I sent tumbling down the stairs with more shots from my faithful crossbow. The jail cells were occupied by eerily calm vampires, all of which I was perfectly okay with leaving captive. Further on were more vampires, all dead and horribly mutilated. This was the group Orthorn hoped to win over with the gift of books.

I found the naive Orthorn in a cell of his own next to a cage of wolves. One does not have to wonder as to what his eventual fate would have been. He expressed relief at the College having sent someone to rescue him, but I replied that he had been written off by the College, I had only been sent to retrieve the books. He begged to be let free either way and I could not abandon him to dehydration or starvation. Freed, he promised to make up for his transgression by helping me fight the remaining necromancers.

As for the books, the leader of the necromancers who he knew as the 'Caller' were in possession of them, but for what reason he did not know.

Orthorn proved surprisingly skilled in a fight and was able to summon Atronachs of his own as well as wield fire and lightning magicka. Alas, he fell in battle against two foes after recklessly charging ahead of me into a room where he was cornered and overpowered before I could assist. I will report to the College that he fell bravely in battle, which is only the truth, after all.

This 'Caller' leader was waiting for me in behind a locked door in a room seemingly redesigned as a summoning chamber of some kind. She accused me of taking her hospitality for granted, which elevated her from 'deluded' to 'insane' in my eyes and then summoned three Flame Atronachs to distract me while she flung fire and ice all of the room.

I ignored the Atronachs as best I could and chased after her relentlessly. Every time I struck her she managed to teleport to another corner of the room, but eventually the sum of my blows started to tell and she collapsed, her Atronachs extinguishing as she did.

The books I had killed to retrieve were on pedestals placed around the room to some unknown purpose. One of the books is about Saarthal and its "Night of Tears" when the Elves attacked Saarthal only to be repelled with heavy losses on both sides. The book questions what reason the Elves would have had to provoke such an attack, but I do think Tolfdir and I have answered at least part of the question.

As always it was late in the evening when I stepped back outside and I decided to stay at Whiterun for the night rather than walk all the way back to the College in the dark.

Other than witnessing the end of a fight between a vampire and two guards the walk from Fellglow Keep was just as boring as the walk to it was. I paid my ten Septims at the Bannered Mare and will be returning to the College in the morning. I may make a brief stop near Morthal for Urag's book on my way there.

Skyrim Day 021 - Under Saarthal

5 Heartfire, 4E201

Winterhold College

~~~

Having arrived so late in the day at Winterhold yesterday I had no opportunity to find out what I was supposed to be doing here.

The other students were sleeping, so I left the 'Hall of Attainment' dormitory and wandered around for a bit. I ran into one of the mages, Mirabelle, whom Faralda had yesterday suggested I speak with. I took the opportunity to find out what was expected of a student, but Mirabelle simply replied that not killing anyone and limiting damage to the College were the only guidelines. When I asked her about Illusion magic she suggested I speak with Drevis Neloren, a Dunmer who she assured me would be willing to help further my skill.

I was accosted by another instructor as I was trying to locate Drevis. My assailant was Colette Marence, a seemingly insecure mage specializing in the school of Restoration. She complained that the other mages did not consider Restoration a "true" school of magic, but I assured her that hundreds of years of study validated her claim. Mollified, she offered to sell me some of her tomes, but my skill in Restoration is barely able to heal a splinter and I could cast none of her spells.

The library is managed by an Orsimer, Urag gro-Shub, who acted as if damaging one of the books warranted immediate execution. I politely told him that his library was one of the best I had visited and he gruffly thanked me, stating that there was always room for improvement. Scenting profit, I asked if there was anything he needed help with and he hesitated for a moment before admitting that he was after a copy of 'Hanging Gardens', a book he heard had been part of a caravan whose trip was abruptly terminated near a cave outside of the dismal town of Morthal. Naturally I agreed to the task.

This time when I visited the 'Hall of Attainment' it was completely empty of sleeping students, so I continued to the 'Hall of the Elements' where I was told the students and instructors congregated for lessons and was pleased to find everyone there. An amicable older Imperial, Tolfdir, was lecturing four other students on the use of magic, but they were unhappy and universally demanded to be taught something practical.

Bending to their demands, Tolfdir decided that we were to practice warding spells, a family of magic I know little about. He provided me a simple warding spell and the other students gave us room for him to cast a fire spell at me while I maintained the ward. Unskilled in Restoration, the effort of keeping the ward active under Tolfdir's fiery onslaught was exhausting and I hope no one noticed the strain it put on me.

With that Tolfdir suddenly declared we should all make a trip to the nearby ruin of Saarthal to search for artifacts. We all filed out of the Hall and the students, including myself, took the long walk as an opportunity to talk with one another. I was approached by an incredibly arrogant Khajiit who called himself J'zargo. He bragged that he had already mastered "Expert-level" Destruction spells and asked if I could claim the same. When I admitted I could not he expressed his disappointment in not being able to find someone with skills as high as his own.

The second student I spoke with was Brelyna, a quiet Dunmer who irritably rattled off answers to questions I had not even asked as soon as I approached. When I countered that I had not yet made her acquaintance she looked embarrassed and formally introduced herself as a member of House Telvanni, an admission that shocked me, as I assumed all the Great Houses of Morrowind had long since fallen. I would have liked to have talked with her more about Morrowind, but she seemed not in the mood for conversation and I let the matter be, at least for now.

The last was a Nord named Onmund. Unlike my other fellow apprentices, he was quite amicable and talked of the difficulties he had with his family in gaining entrance to the College. He did not approve, however, of our little jaunt to Saarthal as he felt we should not be disturbing the resting place of his ancestors. I had never heard of Saarthal before today and he was happy to give me a quick lesson on the history of Nordic settlements in Skyrim.

Saarthal was the first Nordic settlement in Skyrim and the provincial capital of the Nords for some time until its destruction by the now-extinct Snow Elves some time within the Mythic Era. It was later rebuilt by a Nordic king but was abandoned during the opening years of the First Era. Now it was just a ruin like any other, or so we thought.

After speaking with the trio I elected to make my own way to Saarthal so that I could see more of the surrounding area. I came upon a large statue of Azura and I wonder if the Daedric Prince has any memory of what I did for the Dunmer. I suspect not and that if she did, it would not matter for much. Still, I am interested to visit the shrine in the coming days.

Saarthal was about as impressive as any other ruin in Skyrim: snow, ice, and rubble. Tolfdir and the other students had arrived before me and were waiting at the doors leading underground, each of them of a different opinion of the place. J'zargo hoped to find enchanted items to further improve his skill and power. Onmund was uneasy about disturbing his ancestors, which elicited sympathy from Brelyna, though she was curious about what we would find inside.

Tolfdir led us inside and gave us our assignments. I was to proceed further inside and assist another mage from the College, Arniel Gane, who was trying to find and catalog minor artifacts of the ancient Nords, a task J'zargo must have envied.

I found nothing save for a small engraved plate on a leather thong set in a little alcove. The smart thing to do, of course, was to grab it. As soon as I lifted the amulet from its resting place a series of metal rods shot up from the floor behind me, trapping me in the tiny room. Arniel called for Tolfdir, who was unworried and nodded towards the alcove which, unnoticed by me, was now shimmering with a red glow.

Tolfdir handed me a simple fire-element Destruction spell that I believe a newborn could have casted, but it was enough to somehow collapse the wall and retract the metal rods. Tolfdir eagerly stepped inside and beckoned me to follow as he disappeared into the new passageway. He was obviously enjoying himself and I noticed that his fellow mage Arniel had no inclination of following him at all, so forward I went as well.

We had not gone far before the world turned a blinding white and a figure clad in robes popped into existence right in front of me. Distressingly, I found I could not move at all and assumed Tolfdir was having similar problems.

The white mage introduced himself as a member of the "Psijic Order", a name that invoked a vague memory that I could not quite recollect. He spoke of great danger further inside the ruin and warned us that judgement would be levied upon the both of us depending on our actions today and that I alone had the potential to avert the disaster that was otherwise now in the making. Once again, a figure unknown to me has placed a heavy burden on my shoulders. Such is my fate.

The apparition then vanished and I turned to Tolfidr, sure that he would have something to say about what just occurred. But he appeared confused and asked what happened, as I had simply spent the past few minutes staring at nothing. Of course. I told him that a member of the Psijic Order had warned me of dangers further inside Saarthal and he was practically giddy over everything that was happening. His excitement did not diminish when undead Nordic warriors, the Draugr I had first encountered years ago on Solstheim, ambled in to deal with us. They were no match for an experienced mage and Khajiit adventurer.

We continued on, battling Draugr in every room until we reached a large chamber ringed with stone coffins. Predictably they all opened at once and six undead Nords rushed at us. Once they were laid to rest Tolfdir asked me to continue on alone, as he was interested in examining the engravings on the coffins. Onward I went.

I fought one more Draugr on my own, but this one was slightly different: it was able to emit some sort of guttural spell which produced enough force to knock me backwards a few steps. It was a rather minor irritant to an otherwise simple fight, but it was new.

Tolfdir re-joined me after I opened a locked gate by solving a simple puzzle of rotating columns with animal motifs. I had only to spin the column so that its animal engraving matched the engraving set up the wall behind it. I cannot guess as to what reason their architect had for creating a lock with such an obvious combination.

Beyond the gate was the danger the secretive Psijic mage had warned us about, though neither myself nor Tolfdir had any idea what it actually was. It appeared to be something similar to a giant metal egg and as we approached we saw that it was warded. The skeleton of a Draugr sat slumped on a throne in front of the egg, but Tolfdir seemed just as relaxed about this as he had everything else about today.

As I expected, the Draugr "woke" as we drew closer and Tolfdir shouted at me to distract it while he worked at dispelling the egg's ward. Nothing I did could damage the crowned Draugr, but once Tolfdir dispelled the ward the creature quickly fell to my blade.

Tolfdir was full of congratulations and urged me to return to the College immediately so that Arch-Mage Savos could be informed and assist in transporting the metal egg back to Winterhold. I agreed and left immediately, happy to be going back outside after being stuck in the giant tomb for so long.

I arrived back at Winterhold well past midnight, but the Arch-Mage was still awake in his quarters, reading. Without looking up he asked what I needed of him and I replied that Tolfdir and I found something mysterious and important and that Tolfidr remained at the ruins to await his most urgent arrival. Savos smiled and remarked that at least it was not a matter of another apprentice incinerated into ash and asked that I work alongside Mirabelle to research anything matching my description of a metal egg-looking artifact of the Nords.

But I was tired and went instead back to the dormitory where Faralda, one of the instructors, warned me that the Thalmor "representative" stationed at the College had started to ask questions about me. With a price on my head from both the Thalmor and the Dark Brotherhood, this cannot be a good thing. I shall have to be circumspect of what I say and do around this Thalmor, but I suspect one Khajiit looks much like another to them.

I do not know what tomorrow shall bring, but I am certainly guaranteed something of interest. I must admit that I am looking forward to it.

Skyrim Day 020 - The College of Winterhold

4 Heartfire, 4E201

Winterhold College

~~~

Little of what I had to do in Solitude held my interest and none of it long enough to prevent me from walking back out the city gate this morning. Before leaving I stopped at the 'Radiant Raiment' to purchase quilted clothing more suited to the snow and ice of Winterhold than my Hammerfell-inspired outfit.

The walk from Solitude to Winterhold College placed me near the impoverished hold of Morthal, a small town I always felt was too close to Solitude for its own good. Built on a swamp, Morthal has absolutely nothing to offer a traveler that Dragon Bridge or Solitude cannot and depends solely on a lumber mill to generate wealth. I thought to pass the place by entirely, but curiosity won the day and I walked through the meager fortifications, barely even eliciting a nod from the gate's bored guard.

As I entered I heard several voices arguing ahead of me, as usual a group of citizens had a complaint against the local Jarl. The group was complaining about a house fire that apparently had occurred recently under some suspicion. They wanted the Jarl to look into the matter, but I knew where this was going and immediately left Morthal. Had I stayed I am certain I would have become involved somehow.

Another Dark Brotherhood assassin made an attempt on my life along the road to Winterhold and he quickly joined his friends in whatever awaits us after death. I hope that at some point the Brotherhood simply gives up trying to kill me before they run out of members, but they do seem a dedicated lot. Should this continue I may have to convince them to ply their trade elsewhere.

I stopped at a hunting camp and was surprised to find them offering Dwemer armor for sale. One of the hunters explained that they had recently been delving into the ruins scattered about, but I did not entirely believe that story. Either way, Dwemer is far too cumbersome for me and, bandits or no, I sold them a Dwemer shield I had found some days ago.

Actual bandits attacked me a few minutes after I left the campsite, but they were evidently more accustomed to bludgeoning merchants and student mages than experienced fighters. One was even wielding a staff enchanted to discharge bolts of ice, but it was so weak that it may have been gusts of cold air. The staff's origin lay beyond the trio: a dead mage, a dead horse, and a ransacked cart.

The road to Winterhold college curved away from the hills along the coast, making a walk straight through the hills to Winterhold seem like an attractive option. Having already been attacked by an assassin and three bandits while on the road, I guessed that the hills would offer not much worse.

Climbing up and down the icy slopes was a challenge, but it did provide a bit of grim humor in the way of three hunters attempting to slay two giants and a mammoth.

Choosing to loose their arrows only after one of the giants was nearly on top of them meant that none of the three had a chance. Both giants shrugged off the arrows and methodically smashed each of the hunters into the snow with their massive clubs.

I stopped at Dawnstar to talk with an encamped Khajiit caravan and was provided a tale of loss by one 'Kharjo', one of the caravan guards. During a bandit ambush an heirloom of his which he greatly valued as a memory of his home was stolen and he was unable to leave the caravan to track it down. As I spend most of my time wandering around I offered to retrieve it for him, as a favor owed could be quite profitable in the future.

Continuing through the hills towards Winterhold, I passed a tower with a dead horse in front of it. It was saddled, but I could see no evidence of a rider, nor any way to enter the tower save for descending down a wall of ice to search for a door there.

As if that was not strange enough, my walking then brought me to a dead mammoth frozen upright inside a wall of ice.

There were a few arrows embedded into the ice next to it and a Dwemer axe frozen fast to the ground beneath it, but the creature appeared uninjured. I can only imagine how confused its hunters may have been when they realized what had happened.

The weather turned considerably for the worse as I drew closer to the College and it was not long before I could barely see an arm's length ahead of me through the snow. Fortunately someone had piled rocks along the increasingly covered path through the hills and I was able to follow these landmarks from Dawnstar to the remains of Winterhold.

I arrived well after all the shops had closed, but met a Nordic woman named Birna who ran the general store of in Winterhold. She complained of not receiving much business in the half-ruined town and of having to take risky deals that occasionally went bad for her, one recently. When I asked about her recent bad deal she laughed and said she had a genuine dragon's claw to sell me. That reminded me of the story the shopkeeper in Riverwood told me about Bleak Falls Barrow, so I asked to see her claw. She seemed about to refuse me, but shrugged instead and disappeared inside her shop.

She reappeared a few moments later cradling a large "claw" hewn roughly from bronze with three steel coins set into the base of the foot. Each coin had an animal engraved into it, but the item bore little else in the way of decoration. Seeing my interest Birna offered it for one hundred Septims, but I talked her down to fifty with the provision that it remain in her store until I left Winterhold. She agreed and as we parted she remembered that the man selling it to her remarked it would be of use at a place known as 'Yngol's Barrow' far to the east, near Windhelm.

This claw may be helpful in discovering what awaits me at Bleak Falls Barrow, but I am also in no hurry to see Windhelm, having just arrived at the College. For now the claw sits in Birna's shop.

The College of Winterhold was guarded by an Altmer named Faralda who demanded to see some ability from me before I would be allowed entrance into the college. Of course she demanded a spell of me I did not know, but she was ready with the spell's instruction...for only thirty Septims. I begrudged her the money and received a simple 'Magelight' Alternation spell in return. I effortlessly cast the spell upon the college's emblem set into the stones of the bridge, satisfying the College's requirement.

Several members of the College were in the plaza despite the late hour and poor weather. One of them was the Arch-Mage of the College, Savos Aren. He cautioned me against taking any actions that would reflect poorly upon the College, but also said that he was always happy to welcome a new student, commenting that I was the second Khajiit the school would be hosting, which was very surprising news to hear!

But it was very late and I have traveled a great deal today to come here, so I have retired to my room after being escorted there by Faralda. I am eager to start my training tomorrow and hope to further my skill in the Illusion and Alteration schools so that I can be more confident of surviving Bleak Falls Barrow in the hopefully near future.

Skyrim Day 019 - Subject to Daedric Harassment

3 Heartfire, 4E201

Solitude

~~~

I suppose an immortal Khajiit could not have expected to remain out of Daedric sight for long. Today was only to involve the return of a statue and wound up with me confronting yet another Daedric Prince of which I want little to do with.

The walk from Dragon Bridge to Markarth contained all of the usual encounters: attack by Sabre Cats an assassin, a group of bandits, the acquisition of cheap alchemy ingredients, and a wary encounter with some other brave souls journeying across Skyrim.

The Sabre Cats attacked in a trio as I was walking across a hill, but the animals proved to be susceptible to the weak Fury Illusion spell I had purchased some time ago and they soon turned on each other which allowed me to flee down the other side of the hill.

Back on the road I a farmer and his wife stopped to warn me about the dragon attacks plaguing Skyrim. I have only witnessed the one at Helgen, but thanked the man for his concern and asked where they were going. They didn't know, their home having been destroyed, allegedly, by a dragon. I was not sure if I believed his story, but gave the two of them five Septims each and wished them luck.

The pointy ends of the Dark Brotherhood sprang out at me alongside the river, another young Khajiit hoping to make a name for herself among a bandit of mercenary murderers. A small part of me felt bad for having to kill her, but a much larger part did not want to be stabbed. She refused to walk away from the fight and paid the inevitable price. 

I returned to Markarth before noon and wasted no time in returning the statue to Lisbet. My reward was seven hundred and fifty Septims, making the statue a lot more valuable than I assumed. After exchanging some pleasantries with the woman I walked out of her shop intending to leave the city for good, but a man further up the street called out to me, so like a fool I actually stopped and listened to the man's plea.

The man was 'Vigilant Tyranus', a member of the 'Vigilants of Stendarr', a group of Daedric hunters I have talked with a bit along the roads. He had come to Markarth on the rumor that a home was secretly being used for Daedric worship. The townspeople had been of no help, so he was looking for someone to follow him inside should there be hostiles present. I estimated the chance of encountering Daedra inside of Markarth to be fairly low, so I agreed. I wish I had not.

Tyranus immediately noticed as we walked in that there was fresh food laid out on the tables and the furniture and fabrics were clean and without rot. The house had obviously not been abandoned for long. As we proceeded further into the house I began to hear a voice in my head urging me to kill Tyranus, but Barbas was in my head long before this new voice and I was able to ignore it.

However, the Vigilant at my side must have been receiving the same malevolent messages I was ignoring. He became increasingly distracted as the voice grew angrier and finally whomever it was snapped and screamed at us to fight or die together just as fruit, vegetables, and small furniture started to fly at us. I thought it a mere annoyance, but Tyranus panicked and tried to flee out of the house. I followed him but the door was stuck tight, no doubt due to our twisted host. With a shout that he was not going to die here, he drew his mace and attacked me!

Not everyone has had centuries of experience in dealing with Daedra and Daedric Princes, but Tyranus succumbed rather quickly for a Vigilant of Stendarr. He succumbed just as quick to a merciful dagger thrust to the back of his head, killing the poor man instantly without pain.

The voice was pleased then, purring that my reward was to be found on the lowest level of the house. The front door was still stuck shut, so I had little choice but to descend deeper. Each room now had a black, oily cloud hanging about the ceiling, an obvious sign that I was not moving towards something I was going to like.

The home's previous occupants had dug out of the house and into an unused portion of the Dwemer city where I can only assume they decided to install a shrine to Molag Bal, a thoroughly unpleasant Daedric Prince with which involvement could only lead to poor things. I sensed the trap before I approached the shrine, but knew that I would not be leaving the house without springing it.

Sure enough, touching the blood-caked iron mace embedded in the shrine caused spikes to shoot up from the floor around me, trapping me. Predictably the voice, Molag Bal, took great delight in having tricked me and asked what I saw. I replied that I saw an altar and he agreed, stating that it had seen better days, mostly when his worshipers would bring people to it in order to murder them in the Prince's name.

But the altar was not actually sending him any...whatever Daedric Princes receive from worship. A servant of Boethiah, the Daedric Prince of death, had intentionally damaged it to prevent Molag Bal's worshipers from using it. Evidently they were not up to the task of restoring it and abandoned the house and its secret. For some reason Molag Bal thought I would be interested in helping him, but I demanded that he let me go, not actually expecting that to work. To my surprise it did: the spikes retracted and he sighed within my head before letting me know his favor was still available if I rescued the wounded priest of Boethiah and brought him back to the shrine. I could see no reason why Molag Bal would want the priest at his shrine again and resolved to have nothing to do with either Molag Bal or Boethiah. I suppose to them I am a terrible aberration, but I did not ask for my inability to die.

The front door to the house was now unlocked and I stepped over the unfortunate Tyranus on my way out, never to return.

I started my way towards Solitude once again and hope to be at the College of Winterhold within a few days. At a crossroads I came upon three Imperial Legionnaires standing around three dead and nearly naked men. One of the "soldiers" heard me approach and warned me that holding a loaded crossbow around Imperial soldiers warranted a fine of two hundred Septims plus a search of one's belongings to aid in the war effort. I remarked that I had I known that I would have been carrying some shoes, for they had none and the bodies did. Fools to think they could deceive me.

With that I sent a crossbow bolt through the throat of the Orsimer who had tried to shake me down and charged at his two brigand comrades. One was lucky enough to block my chop at his neck and returned with his own semi-skilled blows. The other brigand wisely circled around the two of us to flank me, but was lacking in his approach. When he leaped at my back I turned and drove the pommel of my blade into his face, turning his snarl into a scream as his nose turned into a satisfying spray of blood. A swift cut into his shoulder rendered his weapon useless and I sprang behind his rapidly folding body so that my original foe could watch the man's throat get slit. Morale is key in any fight.

Watching his "leader" get a bolt to the throat and his other comrade get his neck opened took the wind out of the surviving man's sails, as they say on the coast. He halfheartedly started to attack me, but I smashed the sword out of his hand and drove my sword through his stolen Imperial leathers and into his chest. Predictably the trio had nothing of value on them, save for the insight that a more powerful Fury Illusion spell would have been very useful.

I arrived at Dragon Bridge as it began to grow dark and walked through towards Solitude without any further bandits, animal attacks, or Daedric requests. The guards were changing to the night shift as I approached Solitude's gates and gave me no trouble with entering after dark.

There are tasks I have yet to perform for people in Solitude, but I am not sure if I should attend to them now or proceed on along the coast to Winterhold. I face the dismal prospect of venturing through the province's coldest region, but as the name suggests there is no other way to reach the College of Winterhold other than by traveling through what many would consider to be a rather poor winter.