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• Ra'jhera's Diary - Entry I Mar 2, 2012

  11:32 AM, 5th of Sun's Height, 4E 200
  Vilod's Inn, Helgen
  
  After 14 long years, I finally believe it is safe to settle, to relax, if only slightly.
  
  I was a child, only 17 years of age, when it happened. I am the daughter of the last Mane of Elsweyr.
  
  Perhaps I should start from the beginning.
  
  A Mane is a Khajiit that is born when a rarely-seen third moon aligns with Masser and Secunda. A Mane is the spiritual and governmental leader of Elsweyr and the Khajiit people. Only one Mane exists at any one time, because it is believed that the Mane is one soul incarnating into different bodies at different time. Traditionally, all Khajiit would shave their hair and braid it into the Mane's mane, but the large population of modern Elsweyr has made this tradition impractical and obsolete.
  
  I grew up as the Mane's daughter in southern Elsweyr, plantation country. We owned a plantation (with a fantastic view of the Topal Sea), and grew sugarcane, a cash crop slightly less profitable but much more legal than Moon Sugar.
  
  Though it was in a rural area, the mansion was never silent. Visitors and diplomats always filled the guest wing, and could often be seen touring the orchard or farms outside. Political arguments amongst the diplomats were always fun to watch, and you could always see Thalmor and Elsweyr diplomats duking it out with Cyrodiil and Skyrim representatives.
  
  As child of the Mane, I spent my days learning the art of melee beyond the level of mastery, as per tradition. Wizened Khajiit monks taught me the two ancient unarmed martial arts of Elsweyr.
  
  The Falling Sands style was the first form of martial arts in Tamriel, developed by Khajiit nomads in northern Elsweyr. It is an elegant martial art, seen by outsiders as a mix of combat and dancing. It involves constant motion to prevent one from being a still and easy target, and focuses on speed and power.
  
  The Whispering Fang style was created a few centuries later, by a group of Khajiit monks in the rainforests of southern Elsweyr. It is a more rugged, rough-and-tumble martial art. It focuses on both defense and offense, as opposed to the Falling Sands style, and is based on reacting to your opponent's movements and actions. The Whispering Fang style is a striking art using punching, kicking, knee and elbow strikes, and utilizes a Khajiit's claws as weapons.
  
  I was taught the styles, how to use them, when to use them, and even how to mix them up in the same fight.
  
  In addition, experienced mercenaries taught the art of weaponry. By the time I was ten years of age, I could shoot a bow like a Bosmer, swing a battleaxe like a Nord, and mastered one-handed weapons, even dual-wielding, to perfection. To hunt, I was taught how to sneak, how to analyze my surroundings and use them to my advantage. I was always trained under the use of heavy armor. I was told that true sneaks did not need to use light armor and heavy armor covered all flaws and blind spots in all fighting styles.
  
  For years I happily honed my skills, putting politics and other worldly affairs in the corner of my mind. Then, it all changed in one day. The entire week was an unusually quiet week as far as visitors. We had held maybe two guests a day and we only had one planned to visit for that morning. Her name was Elenwen, First Emissary of the Second Aldmeri Dominion, a name I will forever loathe and hate.
  
  It was breakfast when Elenwen came. My trainers and teachers, my mother, my father, my father's advisors and I were all seated when she walked through the door. She was alone except for her two bodyguards, or so we thought.
  
  "Welcome, welcome to Elsweyr, First Emissary. Please, sit. Sit and eat!", my father said.
  
  "Of course, Mane Ri'Darsha. It is a privilege to be here," Elenwen said, sitting at the table with her bodyguards.
  
  The advisors, Elenwen, and my father went through mostly idle chatter, discussing nothing in particular, just the state of Elsweyr and the Summerset Isles. Then Elenwen stated the true reason for her visit.
  
  "Well, Mane Ri'Darsha, as you know, the Aldmeri Dominion has been gaining power rapidly in Tamriel. We would like to propose one last time the offer for Elsweyr to join the Dominion. As our countries both look favorably upon another and both governments have things to offer one another, we believe that it is a great offer." Elenwen spoke in a rehearsed voice, smiling. My father returned the smile, replying in a kind voice.
  
  "I'm afraid that I must once again turn down your offer, Elenwen," my father said, "I simply believe that our beliefs and interests simply do not merge with yours at this time." Elenwen's smile widened, starting to resemble a snake.
  
  "Really? How unfortunate. I had hoped that it would not have to come to this, but you have left us no choice". everyone at the table shot Elenwen a puzzled look as she calmly rose from her chair, brushing her robes off. Suddenly, her face turned to rage and spells started forming in her hands.
  
  "Soldiers!" Elenwen shouted. Suddenly, Thalmor soldiers broke though every window and door around us.
  
  "Assassins!" my mother shouted first, drawing her weapons. Everyone at the table rose to their feet, drawing their weapons, including me. However, Ri'habasi, my trainer in the Whispering Fang style, suddenly grabbed me with strength and speed I had never seen from the old monk, and she leaped over the table, pulling me into the kitchen.
  
  "Let me fight!" I protested, trying to get out of the old woman's grip.
  
  "No," Ri'hibasi said firmly "we have planned for assassination attempts on your father's life for months. We have planned and we picked to save you if we had the chance. Thankfully we aren't being followed." Ri'hibasi lifted a false kitchen tile and place me in the room beneath.
  
  "I must go, child. Please do not come out and fight. We have all always loved you. If things go wrong, go to Ma'zaddha and S'thasa's house in Senchal. They will help you. Goodbye."
  
  "Wait-"
  
  Ri'hibasi closed the tile, and I sat helpless, listening to battle cries above. I cried as I heard my friends and family scream as a final spell hit them or a sword was sent through them.
  
  I sat there for who knows how long. Minutes? Hours? Then, I heard two voices distinctly.
  
  "Well, Ri'Darsha, it seems Elsweyr will be joining the Dominion after all, hm?" Elenwen spoke from above.
  
  "I died defending my people. You, your dominion. You will fall. You will never gain control of Tamriel. I curse you with my final breath."
  
  "Then it was wasted. Goodbye, Ri'Darsha." I heard my father hiss in pain, and then there was silence.
  
  "Search for the girl. We shall leave no witnesses. I must report to back to the capital." Elenwen left and I heard voices, footsteps wandering around the mansion.
  
  I was trembling in rage, in sorrow. They killed my family, my friends, not with spells or weapons, but with hate. I could kill now too, for I now had hate.
  
  I burst through the false tile and was faced with five Thalmor assassins that survived. I looked around, seeing my trainers dead, my mother dead, Ri'hibasi dead, and my father dead. Everyone I loved and everyone I cared for were dead. The Thalmor would pay, all of them, even Elenwen, some day.
  
  "So the cat finally shows her face. Don't worry, you'll be with your family soon."
  
  I moved faster and with more power than I ever had. Spells were shot by two of them, and the other three charged at me with their weapons. The first one to reach me, I grabbed by the throat. My claws pierced his throat deeply, and I slammed him against the ground with all of my strength, hearing both his neck and skull crack upon impact. I kicked away the axe and swung my leg into the ribcage of the next Thalmor, hearing a few ribs snapping as she flew to the side, slumping against the wall.
  
  I grabbed the mace from the first elf, and used it to cave in the skull of the third assassin. I charged at the two mages next. They grew fearful as I effortlessly dodged every spell they cast. I sent my claws through the first mage's chest, piercing his heart, and tossed his body at the second mage. I crouched over the second mage as panic crossed her face. More swiftly than I should have, I snapped her neck, ending her life.
  
  I panted as I looked at the scene, and walked over to my father. I brushed the hair out of his eyes and kissed him on the forehead as I wept. Then, I silent lifted myself up and began my run to Senchal. If I ran fast enough, it was only two hours away. I didn't know what to think, and focused on running. I could think later.

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• Davina's Diary - Prologue Feb 27, 2012

  2:38 PM, 5th of Last Seed, 4E 264
  
  I stared out of the second-story window of Hjerim, smiling. I love Last Seed in Windhelm. It's the brief period of the year in which all of Eastmarch experiences autumn, and it has always been a breathtaking sight. Suddenly, I heard knocking on the door downstairs, startling me.
  
  As Thane of Eastmarch, it isn't unusual for me to experience an extreme amount of visitors in Hjerim whenever I visit. I wondered who it would be as I strolled down the stairs and over to the door. On the doorstep, though, was a thick, royal blue tome. Intrigued, I opened the book, finding the title and a note witten on the inside of the cover.
  
  The note read a simple, "We love you, Davina! Happy 96th Birthday! - From Brunwulf, Niranye, Orthus, Suvaris..." The list carried on with the names of various people in Windhelm. I laughed as I read, crunched in near the bottom, "Be sure to visit the Palace of Kings at 7:00 tonight for a surprise!". Nords weren't known for their discreetness when it came to planning surprise parties.
  
  I then looked at the title of the book, laughing, "The Life and Times of Arch-Mage Davina" by Waughin Jarth. I have heard of the book released about her life. It was supposed to be the biggest hit book since Uncommon Taste. Well, I suppose I could give it a read. I have time to kill before 7:00.
  
  I entered my secret laboratory, a place that only I knew of, and pulled up a chair.
  
  "Davina of Hammerfell, also known as the Lady of Poison and the Witch Queen of Skyrim, has achieved much in her lifetime. Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold, Legate of the Imperial Legion (many scholars agree that Davina was one of key reasons that the Empire won against the Stormcloaks), and the position of Thane in the holds of Haafingar, Whiterun, Eastmarch, Winterhold, and the Rift are but a few of the titles she's earned in her life.
  
  As Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold, the College has surpassed the Mages Guild as the greatest guild of magic-users. As Thane of Winterhold, she has also brought the city back to its former glory. A recent census reports that Winterhold now has more buildings and citizens than both Solitude and Whiterun combined.
  
  As Legate of the Imperial Legion, she, along with another legate and a general, lead the siege on Windhelm as the final battle of the Civil War of Skyrim. Many scholars agree that Davina was one of the sole reasons that the Empire won the Civil War.
  
  
  Rumors completely surround the Witch Queen of Skyrim. Rumors say that she may have been the Dragonborn of legend, the very one that exterminated Alduin in 4E 201. The court of Whiterun, where the Dragonborn first emerged into the public eye, refused to comment when questioned about the Dragonborn's identity.
  
  However, one cannot be in such a celebrity position with slanderous rumors circulating around as well. Rumors in Solitude claim Davina to be in the Dark Brotherhood, as far up as being the leader. Some preposterous claims even say that Davina was the one who killed the late Emperor Titus Mede II.
  
  In Riften, whispers circulate in the market and taverns that Davina is the guildmaster of the Thieves Guild and is even a Nightingale of myth.
  
  Such claims, of course, have no factual base and are simply the product of one person's boredom and malicious intent.
  
  Meanwhile, the Lady of Poison has made great leaps and strides in the fields of both magic and alchemy. Davina, along with Avrusa Sarethi, another master alchemist, published the famous revised version of the Nirnroot Missive, furthering the work of Sinderion. Since then, other alchemists have been feverishly studying the nirnroot, and its soil properties, working to prevent its extinction.
  
  Davina is also a legend in the field of theoretical applied harmonics and is praised for her inventiveness. With Wylandriah, court wizard of Riften, Davina discovered a way to create a magical construct and a reagent that would allow the construct to maintain a field of perfect harmonic energy while completely bypassing Rolston's Constant of Universal Inversion..."
  
  
  I the book, she sighed in nostalgia. She remembered now that she did have a journal, broken into several separate books, as she went through her travels. Interested in reading them, she looked outside to get a rough estimate at the time she had. It seemed to be about 4:30 PM, leaving plenty of time.
  
  Davina went to a chest hidden under the stairs and took out an armful of diaries, all of different sizes, color and material. She located a black one, made of and bound in leather. This was her first one, the one she started writing in shortly before coming to Skyrim.
  
  She opened the diary and started reliving her long, storied life.

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• Quick Announcement Feb 21, 2012

  Hey, guys. A quick announcement. For those of you who loved Lazare, I'm sorry, but I'm putting him to an early retirement. As I played him, his story seemed bland and a bit unoriginal. Now, I'm creating a character that will take his place, Davina!
  
  Davina is a Redguard female who's archetype could be classified as sneak-mage. She will utilize Sneak, Pickpocketing, Conjuration, Restoration and Illusion mainly. I plan for her to have a sort of shaman, gypsy, caravaneer, thief feel for her character. She will have moved to Skyrim after being a desert nomad in Hammerfell, but you'll see that in her entry soon.
  
  As for combat, I plan for her to never use a weapon or wield Destruction magic in combat. She will rely on sneaking and poisoning by pickpocketing as well as Conjuration (both atronachs and necromancy).
  
  I have not decided whether to make her a good (think "noble" shaman, likes people) or bad (think "evil" voodoo (well, technically, hoodoo), assassin). Or something inbetween, maybe? Please tell me what you guys think.
  
  Also, Lazare unfrotunately needs a new home. If any of you want to "adopt" him as your own character, feel free! LEt me know how he does .

  Comments: 2

• Lorenz's Journal - Entry II Feb 19, 2012

  8:42 AM, 18th of Last Seed, 4E 201
  Gerdur's House, Riverwood
  
  Ah, journal, it is good to see you after so very long. I apologize, but a month after my first entry, I tried to escape, and failed.
  
  I chewed down a bone from the dog meat they gave me for dinner. I chewed it until it could be used as a lockpick and barely managed to open my cell between guard shifts. I sneaked into the night, but, as I feared, my time in confinement had made me almost completely forget my skills and training. I was caught by a guard just before entering the courtyard. They raided my cell and found the journal. They tortured me for two days to try to discover who gave it to me. Thankfully, I never let slip who gave it to me.
  
  I spent the next two years, which was the rest of my time in Fort Amol, much like the first three. Yet, as the number of guards grew, so did the severity of their abuse and the amount of their torture sessions. I dont know what kept me going, other than Ralof. Im glad now that I suffered through it, as I am now free.
  
  My escape from Fort Amol happened a mere three days ago. I woke up, and there were no guards in sight, for the first time in five years. While this surprised me, I just sat back and enjoyed it. Although, there was a large amount of hustle and bustle going on upstairs. Voices were shouting, feet were scurrying and even horses were neighing outside.
  
  Suddenly, Ralof came sprinting down the stairs, a bundle of clothes and a key in the other. He opened my cell and, before I could do anything, he crouched down and practically shoved the lump of clothes in my hands. He drew in near, looking at me. He seemed like he had so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to express, but something, perhaps time, held him back.
  
  There isnt much time, Lorenz, Ralof whispered in a hushed tone, This is your only chance to escape. We have gotten a tip that General Tulius, along with his top Legates and an entire legion of soldiers, is coming through Eastmarch. Weve been preparing all morning to attack, even Jarl Ulfric. Every soldier in the fort is leaving and theyve thankfully seemed to have forgotten you. Put on this Stormcloak gear, get on a horse outside, and flee during the battle when no one will notice. Farewell, Lorenz. You have been a good friend. If only the situation was different. If only this were another time," Ralof stopped himself, before putting on his usual, "everything will be fine" smile, "No matter what path you take in life, Lorenz, I wish you the best. Hopefully, this is the last time we will see each other.
  
  As quickly as he had come, Ralof left. Wasting little time thinking about the emotions stemming from Ralof's departure, I dressed in the garb of the enemy. As I placed on the helmet, I seemed no different than any other Stormcloak, besides looking thin to the point of starvation and as pale as a ghost. I found that he had also managed to recover this journal, to my surprise. I slipped it inside the cuirass. I looked on the ground and found one thing left. Ralof had left his silver family amulet inside.
  
  He had told me that his family had forged it a few generations ago upon founding their own village, Riverwood. They had even had it enchanted by the College on a trip to Winterhold (before the Great Collapse). It was enchanted to enhance both the wearers skills with one-handed weapons and with bows. It was passed down through the generations and ended up with Ralof.
  
  I clutched the pendant, thinking of Riverwood and Ralof. Hearing hurried voices upstairs and the doors opening, I quickly put on the necklace and dashed outside. I hopped on a horse and blended in with the crowd.
  
  It felt unbelievable to breathe in the air of Skyrim for the first time in five years. I took appreciation in things I never had. The clouds, the sky, the mountain flowers. As we approached the destination, we were channeled through a small, very narrow mountain pass. A feeling of dread crept up in my stomach. Something wasnt right.
  
  We heard roars and battle cries in the background, and my suspicions were proven true.
  
  An ambush! a Stormcloak warrior in the front screamed. Legion, my ass. This was easily half of the damn Imperial Army. They outnumbered us at least five to one and I couldnt do anything as I saw the soldiers swarm through the pass. I turned the horse around as quickly as I could, but it was too late. I felt a warhammer slam into my ribcage from the side. The blow from just a warhammer felt like a giants club and I was flung from my horse into a tree.
  
  I felt that I broke or at least bruised a few bones in the fall. Everything turned hazy and I blacked out as I witnessed the war scene break out before me.
  
  
  
  Oh, It's time for breakfast. I'll continue this after I eat.

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• Lorenz's Journal - Entry I Feb 18, 2012

  (Hey, guys. Meet Lorenz Star-Eye, the Nord assassin. I plan to play Lazare and Lorenz simultaneously, doing both of their journals as well, though they will be in different games, so they can both be Dovahkiin. Well, here we go!)
  
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  17th of First Seed, 4E 199
  
  One botched assassination, and it put me in this hell.
  
  I was 23, and I had been a freelance assassin since I was 16. My brother, Volund, who was ten years my senior, had taught me the art of combat for years, since he led a bandit clan. However, I found his methods a little messy. The murders weren't clean. Don't get me wrong. I loved him as any brother should, and he taught me things that changed my life forever, but I found that his way of murdering was ineffective. Screams of people, sounds of fighting, and no planning whatsoever left it very easy for the murder to be pinned on you.
  
  Sure enough, Volund, when I was 16, was murdered by guards. They ransacked his camp, and massacred everyone in his clan. I was never able to find those guards, but that's when I started picking up contracts. I stayed at my brother's camp and several couriers started coming. They had letter from people who wanted the clan to kill certain people. I carried out these murders and started finding the thrill in killing. To slip in and out of the shadows, lodge an arrow in someone's throat and leave without ever being detected offered an ultimate thrill.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  As the years passed, my mother and father, along with my baby sister, moved to a farm outside of Bruma, in Cyrodiil. I remained in Skyrim, taking up contracts as they came.
  
  I became a master assassin. I could shoot far better than most Bosmer. I could take down a clan of bandits with only a dagger. I could move in and out of shadows as if I were one. I could steal from a thief, and lockpicking became like breathing. Then came the failed assassination.
  
  I met a Thane of Solitude, I believe his name was Erikur, in a dark alley of the city. I was to assassinate Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak. He had created a group called the Stormcloaks.
  
  "While they aren't causing many problems right now," Erikur said, "I would like for him to be killed before he does cause problems. I can promise you 5000 septims when he dies, but do not be detected."
  
  The contract sounded simple, but it was a Jarl. I spent two weeks planning the kill. I stole travel schedules and took out a few guards, and I got my chance. I was silently creeping after the Jarl in a corridor of Fort Amol. He was alone. I raised my dagger and was about to slit his throat when he suddenly laughed and turned around.
  
  "IIZ SLEN NUS!" Ulfric bellowed, and I was frozen in my tracks. The bastard knew shouts, the ancient Thu'um of the Greybeards. Guards of the Stormcloaks surrounded me, dragging me off to the fort prison.
  
  "Nice try, assassin," Ulfric said as he turned and walked the opposite way, "I hope you enjoy rotting in prison for life." He laughed as he walked down the corridor.
  
  As I started to regain movement, a guard noticed and quickly shoved a paralysis poison down my throat forcing me to swallow it. When we reached the dungeons, the stripped me nude, removed my weapons, and threw me into a cell.
  
  This, I felt, was going to be my home for a long time.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I woke up the next morning, in my new "home". The hay pile and stone floor made my entire body ache. I was shivering as the guard shoved skeever meat and a dirty mug of mead through the cell. I was the only prisoner in the dungeons. The first, in fact, as I would find out later.
  
  "When are you bastards going to give me clothes?" I asked, rubbing my hands together for heat.
  
  "Oh, we aren't," the guard chuckled as he removed his hands from the bars.
  
  "What? You have to give me clothes! This is Eastmarch! I'll freeze!" I protested, though the guard simply waved his hand and walked away.
  
  
  
  Now, I have been here, in the dungeons of Fort Amol, for three years. Three years I have been here. For three years, I've known the extent of cruelty guards can have to a prisoner. For three years, I've been regularly beaten, tortured, and raped by the guards of Fort Amol. There are several days where I'm in a haze, just waiting for the guards to deal their version of "justice".
  
  There have been a handful of other prisoners, who tell of outside information. However, they are usually released or transferred to the Windhelm prison after a few days. The Stormcloaks have been gaining support and power, the temporary prisoners tell me. That explains why I've been noting more guards throughout the dungeons.
  
  One guard is kind to me. His name is Ralof. He sneaks me decent food and converses with me when he is the only guard on duty. He gives me parchment and ink to write home and gives me the letters my family sends back. He even once used a bit of his own pay to give me a healing potion after Galmar Stone-Fist, a real charmer that one, had spent a whole day devoted to making my life hell. That was by far the worst day of my life.
  
  Ralof is here now, which is why I have the time to write this entry. Oh, Ralof just told me that the guard shifts are about to change. I have to hide you. Ill write in you later.

  Comments: 3

• Lazare's Journal - Entries I and II Feb 16, 2012

  (Hey, guys. For those who read Mirisa's Diary, I'm sorry, but I don't think I'll be writing for her anymore. She was a great character, and out of the five I had then, she was probably the most fun and successful. However, it was simply time to move on. Now, meet Lazare Amedee, a male Breton pure mage. This time, I will be starting with his back story instead of after Helgen. His main skills are Destruction, Alteration, Enchanting, Alchemy, Conjuration, Sneak, and Pickpocket. Also, please leave any constructed criticism in the comments. I love tips and I love to improve. I love you guys !)
  
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  24th of Sun's Height, 9:52 AM, 4E 201
  Amedee Palace, High Rock
  
  Father finally passed away three days ago. He had been suffering, but went peacefully, with my other three siblings and my mother surrounding him. As soon as he went into his final sleep, though, there was anything but peace. A pathetic hour later, my younger siblings were already fighting over the position of leader of the family. As the eldest sibling, it pains me to see my dear sister and two brothers fighting over such a petty thing now, right after our father's death. None of them even seem to care for dear mother, who is grief-stricken beyond words.
  
  The very next day, brawls to the death were erupting outside the palace. Vivienne, Laniel, and Marcel were sending out their various supporters to fight each other while they isolated themselves in various wings of the palace. This was the very thing Iliac Bay and High Rock was known for all across Tamriel. Vicious wars and battles fought over power.
  
  Yesterday, at the funeral, they didn't even sit next to each other and were surrounded by bodyguards armed to the teeth. I sat next to mother, her hand in mine while she silently wept while watching the priest administer the blessings of the Divines.
  
  I don't know how much longer I can bear to stay in this palace with the others. Jociel, my best friend and beloved servant, has offered to take me into Skyrim, an offer I'm greatly considering. This conflict has even been delving into my studies of the arcane arts. If nothing else, I want to at least live up to my father's expectations. If I can't even do that, I have no reason to stay here any longer.
  
  
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  27th of Sun's Height, 11:24 AM, 4E 201
  Dead Man's Drink, Falkreath, Skyrim
  
  "Ah, here we are, beautiful Skyrim. No turning back now, I suppose," I said, as Jociel stopped the carriage outside of the town of Falkreath in Skyrim.
  
  "I will miss you, Lazare," Jociel said, smiling mournfully from behind me.
  
  "As will I, Jociel. You've been more of a brother to me than any of my own," I, making the same weak smile, said as we hugged and kissed good-bye. "Take mother to one of our manors further inland. I don't want her around the palace. Watch over her for me. Write often."
  
  "Sure thing, Lazare," Jociel said as he pulled away from the hug. "I suppose this is goodbye. Farewell, dear friend."
  
  "Farewell, dear friend," I said. When Jociel was finally out of sight, I sighed, turning to Falkreath, my new life.
  
  I decided to explore Skyrim, removing myself from the troubles of my homeland. I am going to explore, furthering my magic studies. I hear there's a magic college in Skyrim. I'm certainly going to become a member. For now, I'm going to stay in Falkreath for a few days and get used to the feel of Skyrim. Until next time, journal.

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• Mirisa's Diary - Entry 5 Feb 14, 2012

  Loredas, 6th of Evening Star, 3:19 PM
  
  Outside of the Falkreath Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary
  
  Faithful Shadowmere is beside me, the temperature is amazing, the sun is shining and the wind is whistling through the trees. It is now, outside of the Sanctuary in the cool, crisp air, that I mourn the loss of a beloved friend. Amren, a fellow swordsman and Redguard of Whiterun has met a warrior's end. I remember first meeting him and helping him retrieve his stolen sword from a bandit gang. We shared many laughs and drunken stories at the Bannered Mare, and now, he is no more.
  
  I had entered Whiterun on a normal, casual day. I was simply going to refresh myself for a few days, catch some sleep in Breezehome, meet up with a few old friends. Then, a dragon roared overhead. An Elder Dragon swept into the city, shooting out ice from his monstrous jaw. The guards, Amren, myself, and a few others sprung into combat wit the dragon.
  
  We had beat the the dragon to the ground and it was near its death. Everyone simultaneously attacked the dragon, before it caught its last push. With his final breath, a storm of ice spurred out of his mouth at an unimaginable speed. I knew what was going to happen a second before it did. Amren's eyes and mouth opened to an alarming size as the breaht directly hit his torso. The attack forced Amren into the air and slammed him against the walls of House Grey-Mane. I heard a few sickening cracks as his body crumpled to the ground.
  
  A fury swept over me as I turned toward the dragon. The dragon spirit and blood within me took posession of my body as I shouted at the dragon.
  
  "KRII LUN AUS!" The shout was one of hatred, a shout that weakened enemies considerably as well as damaged them. I drilled my greatsword into the dragon's skull, and it was no more.
  
  A small funeral was held for Amren three days later. It was attended by seven friends of Amren whom I did not recognize, his wife Saffir, and myself. Danica Pure-Spring administered the rites of the Divines. Shortly after the funeral, Saffir approached me with Amren's family sword, the one I had retrieved for him, and a purse of coins.
  
  "Amren would have wanted you to have this," Saffir said, her lips curled slightly up, making a small, mourning smile.
  
  "Thank you," I whispered, taking the sword, but not the purse. I bode her farewell, and gave her a hefty bag of 10,000 coins. Her eyes widened as I gave it to her. Before, she could say anything, I ran. The coin would be enough to support her for at least a few years. I placed Amren's sword directly above the doorway to Breezehome, an appropriate spot for one of the first friends I had in Skyrim.
  
  I then took off to Markath. A stubborn wizard, some dead guards, and a few hours later, I had obtained the items necessary to confirm Mercer Frey's journal. I took it back to Enthir, an old friend of Mercer's who was a mage at the College of Winterhold. Karliah and I waited as he translated before he confirmed Mercer's betrayal. Karliah explained more about the Nightingales, before she told me to meet her at the Ragged Flagon. I said that there was something I needed to do beforehand, so she could take care of her errands as well.
  
  I was to assassinate Gauis Maro, the son of the chief of the Penitus Oculatus in Skyrim. I did so, driving a dagger into his back from behind, and talking to him before his untimely death.
  
  "After you, the Emperor will fall next." I whispered in the dark alley of Windhelm.
  
  "Traitorous wench," Gaius whispered, gasping for air. Though, he, like most, was more concerned about his oncoming death than anything else. Snowflakes began to fall in the city. "I didn't want it to end like this... a dark alley... cold."
  
  "How, then? Where?" I asked. He looked at me, his own assassin, chuckling.
  
  "No harm in telling now, I guess," His voice was growing weaker, and his heartbeat fainter, "I always pictured some lush meadow, in nature, surrounded by the sounds of the wild. Tranquility... peace..." Then, Gaius Maro fell into his eternal slumber. Quietly, discreetly, I carried his body out of the city, into the wild.
  
  The morning sun had just risen when we reached the destination. A beautiful scene, just north of Riften. The morning birs were chirping as I started digging in the lush meadow, close to a waterfall. As I finished I gently placed Gaius' body into the grave. I covered it back up with dirt, sighing as I sat by the grave, witnessing Kynareth's beauty.
  
  "Resquiescat in pace, Gaius Maro."
  
  After an hour or so, I headed back to the Sanctuary. Finding out that Cicero has gone beserk. I read through his multi-volume diary, discovering his location and hunted him down. A few Sanctuary guardians went down, as well as a troll, before I discovered him.
  
  I drew my bow and aimed at Cicero. I shot my arrow at a spot right next to his face.
  
  "You're dead now, Cicero. At least, as far as everyone else knows. Stay here if you like. Just make sure no other Brotherhood member finds you." I said as I turned my back and walked away. I feel bad for Cicero. He stood by the original views of the Brotherhood. That was all he had done, really. However, he also tried to kill Astrid, and deeply wounded Veezara and Arnbjorn. Oh well, there isn't anything that can be done now. Maybe our paths will cross again some day. Until then, he no longer concerns me.
  
  Now, I must leave to Markath once more. This time, I must speak with an Anton Virane and discover the identity of the famous Gourmet. It's a shame that the Gourmet must die. His recipes are mouthwatering concotions that are to die for. Anywho, I must be on my way. I will be sure to write in you soon, diary.

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• Mirisa's Diary - Entry 4 Feb 11, 2012

  Too damned tired to record the time, 6th of Sun's Dusk
  Karliah's camp outside of Snow Veil Sanctum
  
  Oh, diary, I must take care to write in you more often. So much has happened.
  
  For more trivial stuff, I solved a murder, sending the Butcher of Windhelm to Sovngarde myself. I also became a master pickpocketer and blacksmith, reaching the highest proficiency in both areas. With this, I smithed Dragon-bone armor as well as a set of Ebony weapons. I have heard of Daedric weapons and armor, items which seem to be overwhelmingly powerful, but I decided against making them. Fun in a hunt or kill resides partly in the challenge. Where is the fun in killing without a challenge?
  
  For more important events, I joined the Dark Brotherhood. I helped a little boy solve his problem with a cruel, abusive orphanage owner. I then got a strange note from a courier before going to bed. Next thing I know, I'm in a shack with a woman (quite skilled in order to drag me here without my knowing) and had to kill one of three people. I killed each, thinking how cruel it would be to let two starve to death after I left the shack if I only killed one.
  
  I then took on a few contracts, slit a throat and lodged an arrow in some people, and I ended up being hailed as a listener by the Night Mother and her... eccentric... Keeper, Cicero. I still respect Astrid's position as leader of the Sanctuary, though I don't think she knows that.
  
  One thing led to another and we soon started a grand plan to assassinate Emperor Titus Mede II. That's right. The emperor of Tamriel. Obviously, this greatly intimidated everyone in the Sanctuary, but we decided to rise to the challenge.
  
  We have completed the first step. I had to murder Vittoria Vici (or should I say Vittoria Snow-Shod?), may she rest in piece, at her own damn wedding. This made me feel like a cold, heartless bitch more than anything ever has, but, it had to be done. I will never forget that cool, crisp morning. I entered the reception in an outfit straight from Radiant Raiment. Camoflauge, blending into the crowd, is a skill I believe is grossly underestimated in its use.
  
  I picked up an enchanted bow Gabriella had left for me on the balcony. I stared at for a moment, then deciding that I wanted Vittoria to die in a different way. One that showed more respect, in my opinion.
  
  I hid in the shadows of the staircase as the bride and groom made their way to the balcony from which they made the traditional wedding speeches. As they entered the balcony, I sneaked in from behind. As Vittoria ended her speech with, "I hope you will be as happy now as I will be for the rest of my life", I struck. I drove my dagger into her chest from behind, catching her as she fell. The following moments felt like an eternity, as I spoke with the dying bride and the onlookers looked on, stunned into silence.
  
  "Wha... What did I do... to deserve this?" Vittoria whispered, gasping for air as she looked at me with endless sorrow in her eyes.
  
  "You did nothing," I whispered back, sympathetically but not pitifully, "None of this is your fault. You were only in the wrong family at the wrong time." Her blood was staining my clothes, dagger, and hands, but I didn't seem to care then.
  
  "I don't want to... to die. I'm not ready..." Vittoria choked remorsefully.
  
  "Few are. But you accomplished much in your life. Requiescat in pace, Vittoria Snow-Shod. May your soul find peace in the Hall of Valor, in the paradise of Sovngarde." As I finished, Vittoria Snoe-Shod exaled her last breath. I gently closed her eyes and laid her to rest on the floor. I wasn't sure if 5 seconds had passed or 5 hours.
  
  As I rose, everyone snapped out of their trance. A Solitude guard and a Penitus Oculatus guard came charging up the stairs with the crowd in tow. The groom also snapped out of his trance, pulling out his sword, swinging furiously. A sudden flash of green deflected what would've been a particularly nasty cut to my side. Veezara had arrived.
  
  "I'll hold them off, get to the Sanctuary!" Veezara yelled as he parried blows from the guards and the groom. The crowd was growing.
  
  "No, there's no need for them to die," I shouted over the angry mob. Veezara and I both leaped from the balcony, dashing to the entrance of Solitude before anyone else could piece together what was happening.
  
  "To Falkreath!" I yelled at the carriage driver as I sprinted down the hill with Veezara. I tossed him a bit more coin than the usual rate to avoid questions. Without a word from either of the three of us, the carriage flew down the hill and to Falkreath.
  
  Oh, yes, and I almost forgot the Thieves' Guild. Lovely bit of drama there.
  
  We discovered the identity of the person trying to destroy the Guild. It took a bit of stalking and harassing a lizard, but it worked out. Karliah, her name is, an extraodinary thief and archer, so I was told. Mercer Frey and I made it out to the tomb together.
  
  We mercileslly slaughtered the mind-bogglingly powerful Draugr as they got in our way. All was normal until after we entered a door similar to the one in Bleak Falls Barrow. I was shot by an arrow, poisoned as I would soon find out, and everything wnt black.
  
  As I awoke, I was paralyzed, yet could hear a conversation going on between Mercer and who I assumed was Karliah. Mercer was a dirty traitor to the Guild. He had been slandering Karliah since the day he murdered Gallus. My blood was boiling, though I couldn't move a muscle.
  
  Mercer Frey soon walked over to me and smiled as he gave me and I both what he thought would be the last words I'd hear. He stabbed me with his enchanted Dwarven sword, and I felt the life sap from me. I truly thought I was dying.
  
  As I awoke, it was night at Karliah's small camp and she basically affirmed every ounce of information I had heard. Mercer, you bastard. Karliah had, however, found Gallus' journal, though it unfortunately in a language neither of us could I identify. Karliah told me to bring the journal to Enthir, an old friend of Gallus' at the College of Winterhold. I will depart soon, but I plan to wait and let my wounds heal here at Karliah's camp.
  
  As Mercer escaped and doesn't know that I still live, I should avoid the Thieves' Guild until I get the journal translated. Karliah and I will surprise him in front of the Guild. He will soon get what's been coming to him for decades.
  
  Alas, sleep calls me, my wounds scream, and my body aches. I will write in you soon, diary. Good night.

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• Mirisa's Diary, Entry 3 Feb 6, 2012

  Sundas, 6th of Heartfire, 12:21 PM
  The Bee and Barb - Riften
  
  Ah, dear old diary. So much has happened in the few weeks since I last wrote in you. Now, I'm upstairs in the Bee and Barb, and I just finished my lunch. Two rich slabs of beef and a juicy cooked chicken between two sides of a fresh loaf of bread. An interesting honey nut treat for dessert. All washed down with two bottles of Nord mead. I'm not sure whether to be proud or embarassed, but I think I'm turning into a Nord.
  
  Anyway, I've joined the Thieves' Guild here in Riften. It all started as I walked to the carriage of Whiterun on the night of being revealed as a Dragonborn. I handed the carriage driver money and mumbled for him to take me "anywhere but here". I arrived in Riften, where a man named Brynjolf invited me to the Thieves' Guild after proving my worth by planting a stolen ring on a stall owner in the square.
  
  Funnily, though I've been training to be a warrior unparalleled in skill, I've taken up archery on the side. It covers my weakness in long-range combat and is great for hunting. I still refuse to kill anyone without themm getting a chance to fight back. It seems so... wrong for some reason.
  
  I've completed two majors jobs for the guild, but I still question myself at points. At least it makes a living. I still remember the shock on Proventus Avenicci's face when I walked into Dragonsreach, tossed a huge purse of coins on the table, and asked to buy Breezehome, all upgrades included.
  
  Goldenglow Estate, a place where I nearly met my end at the weapons of upwards of ten highly trained mercenaries, and Honningbrew Meadery, a meadery with a pompous ass of an owner, have been my two jobs for the Thieves' Guild. We've discovered a plot to destroy the Guild. While Mercer and Brynjolf do their thing, analyzing the notes, I've decided to travel. Maul mentioned a child in Windhelm trying to contact the Dark Brotherhood. The name clicked to me as the organization of the powerful assassin I killed. I wish to join. Maybe if I go there, I'll meet an assassin of theirs. Hm.
  
  With the Thieve's Guild, I've learn to seperate my emotions from business. Thievery is a business and trade of mine, and emotional detatchment is required at least partially.
  
  I've also thought about joining the Imperial Legion. I find it ironic that a Redguard would be so worried about the war and about the Empire after they abandoned us after the White-Gold Concordat.

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• Mirisa's Diary, Entry 2 Feb 5, 2012

  Fredas, 22nd of Last Seed, 1:30 AM
  The Bannered Mare Whiterun
  
  So much has happened in the past few days. I dont know where to start, so Ill just pick up where I left off.
  
  I woke up rejuvenated the next morning. I put on a merry yellow dress and walked out into the market. I walked up to Carlottas stall for breakfast ingredients and soon struck up a conversation with a young woman, about my age, named Ysolda. She mentioned her dream of becoming a master entrepreneur, and she was a bit worried about not being able to find a mammoth tusk. She mentioned a Khajit in a caravan that offered to teach her if she were able to find one. Ysolda seemed nice enough, so I made a mental note to keep the next mammoth tusk I came across.
  
  I also ended up meeting a blacksmith, Adrianne Avenicci and Amren, a now-married mercenary. Adrianne was trying to win the Jarls favor over the famous Eorland Grey-Mane. I helped her around the forge and have no doubt that she could one day exceed Eorland. I then agreed to take a steel greatsword, her gift to the Jarl, to Proventus, the steward and her father.
  
  As for Amren, I stumbled upon him and his wife, Saffir, in a heated argument. Amren had apparently been sinking serious coin into finding his deceased fathers stolen sword and putting his family in debt. Amren had finally found the thieves den, but Saffir had enough of it. She gave him an ultimatum: he could have either his family or the sword. Out of slight pity, I offered to help find his fathers sword.
  
  After that, I finally headed up the stairs to Dragonsreach. Upon informing the Jarl of the arrival of dragons, he promptly dispatched soldiers to Riverwood and told me to follow him. I followed him to his grumpy court mage, Farengar, who pretty much forced me to go deep into a dangerous, ancient crypt in search of a relic that he wasnt even sure was there. I eyed him a bit suspiciously, but he simply sent me on my way.
  
  I took a tour around Dragonsreach, taking everything I could. I upgraded my iron sword to an Elven sword. It took a handful of lock picks, but it was worth it. The only thing was that it had Balgruuf the Greater engraved on the edge of the blade. I have to take care to stay out of trouble until I find a way to make this sword not seem stolen. I also found a mammoth tusk in the Jarls office, which I put away for Ysolda. The last thing of interest I found was a rather curious gem in the Jarls bedroom. I should probably have it appraised by a curator later.
  
  After borrowing a few things from the palace, I discovered it to be late afternoon. I decided it would be best to start traveling in the morning, and simply did favors around the town until nightfall, when I slept in my usual room at the Bannered Mare.
  
  At about 8:00 AM, I strapped my boots on and set off on the road. On the way to Bleak Falls Barrow, I was walking down the path, when a figure in the horizon began sprinting at me. Alarmed, I stood my ground, holding my shield up and wrapping my fingers around my new Elven sword. As the figure, a female Khajit in black and red armor, drew closer, she suddenly leaped, lunging at me with her dagger and sword. I blocked the blow, and then slammed my shield against her as she landed, throwing her off-balance. I then sliced at her side, but the nimble Khajit had already moved out of the way and was taking her next shot at me. The fight was pretty evenly matched, but I eventually brought her down by exploiting the opening she left between attacks.
  
  The Khajit and I were both panting heavily by the end. The Khajit was on her hands and knees, gasping in pain as she clutched at her right thigh, where I had landed a particular nasty blow. I loved worth opponents, but, at the same time, valued life as all should. Thr Khajit knew she couldnt put up any more fight, so I crouched by her.
  
  You were a worthy opponent, I spoke as I drew out my dagger, Resquiecat in pace. I then stabbed the dagger into her heart, ending her life. I placed her body in a peaceful place by the riverbank before searching her body. I found a note, or a contract, rather, inside her clothes.
  
  Im not in this country for but a few days, and people are seeking my death? I muttered to myself, I suppose you cant please everyone.
  
  I would have to see about joining the Dark Brotherhood, though. This woman was a strong opponent, and I would be glad to be a part of any organization she was. I then winced as I felt the sting of my own wounds. I dabbed some healing potion on them and simply rested for a few minutes before getting up and continuing on the path. I defeated some bandits both in and out of the temple before delving further.
  
  I eventually came across the largest spider I have ever laid eyes on, which didnt help my arachnophobia. Making certain that the spider had met its end, I continued to the web behind it, finding Arvel the Swift. He promised me the Golden Claw, which I had already promised to find for a man named Lucan in Riverwood, if I cut him down. Well, he lived up to his name when I cut him down and he tries to make a run for it, but soon was run through with my sword. I made my way through the dungeon, killing undead along the way, until I finally became before a grand chamber.
  
  Though I had come for the Dragonstone, I immediately found myself attracted to a strange wall. As I approached it, an engraving in the wall called out to me, and I approached it. I didnt recognize the language, but as I approached it, the word seemed delve into my very soul. It was Fus, force. Yet, with its meaning came another odd feeling. It felt like I knew the word, but I didnt understand it. Before I had any time to think about this, a coffin opened behind me, and a powerful-looking draugr rose from within.
  
  Wasting no time, I charged at it and soon brought it down. Conveniently enough, it had the Dragonstone, the very thing I came to the crypt for. I picked up some materials nearby and found a powerful Orcish warhammer in a chest. I quickly added it to my arsenal, placing my much-less-useful iron greatsword in the chest.
  
  I found a secret exit nearby and found myself on the opposite end of the mountains that I entered. Every muscle and joint in my body screamed at me. I needed sleep, a bed, as soon as I could reach one. I found the legendary Lady Stone on an isle in the lake nearby before making my way down the path to Whiterun.
  
  I came across the cabin of a woman named Anise. She seemed like a kind woman. I rested in a chair in her house, which she didnt mind at all. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw an opening to something, a trap door, probably, hidden almost entirely by hay. Curious, I picked the lock and went into the basement. Inside were an Arcane Enchanter and an Alchemy Lab, along with various ingredients. On a counter was a note that revealed Anise to be a witch.
  
  Eh, I murmured to myself, Thats not that big of a deal. Hammerfell and Skyrim citizens generally dislike and distrust magic in all forms, but it never really bothered me. As I exited the cellar, I cracked her knuckles, sighed and headed out of the cabin. As I exited, Anise stood there, a mix of fear and fury on her face. Before I could say a word, she shrieked.
  
  Fool! None shall know my secret!
  
  I then tried to explain that I mean no harm and I wouldnt report her, but before I could, she had summoned a spirit wolf and was sending a column of fire right at me.
  
  I was too tired to even try to put up with this. I brought out my new warhammer, and the Hammerfell blood within me gave me just enough strength to deliver two powerful blows to her side and back, ending her life. I placed her body beside her vegetable patch, and simply collapsed in her bed inside the cabin. Its not like she would be using it anymore, anyway.
  
  When I woke up a mere five hours later, I groaned. I was still sore, but I was much better than last night. I went past Riverwood and once again got on the path to Whiterun. I helped an Old Orc die honorably, which worked some of the soreness out of my muscles. I took the time and arrange his body carefully and place him between the two sabre cats he had bested before going to meet Malacath.
  
  I walked to the stables of Whiterun before I realized I was dying for a bath. I looked around for an hour before finding a deep-enough pool by a giant camp. I stripped off my armor near the pool and dropped a dress and a pair of boots for when I got out. I didnt get much trouble from the Giants, and I enjoyed the water rinsing the grime off of my body. I got out, stored my armor and weapons, put on my dress and shoes and walked to Whiterun, selling a few things to Risaad along the way.
  
  I met Delphine, Farengars associate who told him the location of the Dragonstone, before handing over said item to him. Irileth then rushed in, claiming that a dragon had attacked a nearby watchtower. Balgruuf then immediately commanded us to go to the watchtower, to kill the dragon.
  
  I sprinted to the watchtower, changing into my armor at Adriennes shop. Nightfall had come by the time the squadron and I reached the watchtower. A full moon was overhead. And Irileth commanded everyone to split up to look for survivors. I obliged, finding two guards in the tower. As soon as I found them, a roar hurt my ears and a dragon flew overhead. The next few minutes were a blur of adrenaline and instinct. My senses returned as I landed the final blow to the dragon.
  
  My soul seemed at one with the dragons soul, one with all of nature. It couldve been a second or an hour I stood there, as the dragons soul seeped into mine. I was then gifted with a burst of knowledge. The emptiness of Fus, force had been filled. I learned the meaning of Fus. I understood force. I became Fus.
  
  I was brought back to my senses as a shocked guard proclaimed me to be Dragonborn. After a few minutes of discussion, most of which I did not listen to while thinking about what had just happened, Irileth told me to go report to the Jarl.
  
  As I walked back to Dragonsreach, wondering what had happened, the ground suddenly start shaking at the stables.
  
  DOOOOOVAHHHHHKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNN, A voice called out. Dovahkiin, Dragonborn.
  
  Without any moment of hesitation, I sprinted to the palace.
  
  Once there, Balgruuf proclaimed me to be the hero of all legends. He said I was a Dragonborn, a natural master of the Voice. The Greybeards had been calling me. Balgruuf then made me a Thane, giving me the Axe of Whiterun. Mystified at the nights events, I made my way here, to the Bannered Mare. I dont know if I will be able to sleep tonight, but I have to try. Hopefully this will all be less of a shock when I wake.

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• Mirisa's Diary, Entry 1 Feb 4, 2012

  Before I begin, here is a little background information on Mirisa. She is my 5th character, and a female Redguard. She is from Elinhir, a small town in Hammerfell that is close to the border of Cyrodiil and Skyim. She is mainly a master warrior, thieving on the side to meet costs and help pay for things. She specializes in Light Armor, Heavy Armor, One-handed, Two-handed, Block, Smithing, and Pickpocketing. Without further ado, here we begin.
  
  -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
  
  Tirdas, 19th of Last Seed, 8:51 PM
  The Bannered Mare - Whiterun
  
  Ugh! I should have paid attention to the boundary lines! If I had, I wouldn't be in this situation to start! All I wanted was to go on a hike. I didn't mean to cross the border into Skyrim. Anyway, there's not much I can do about it now.
  
  I'm in the city of Whiterun at the moment, in my rented bedroom at the Bannered Mare. This all started after a dragon, of all things attacked Helgen shortly before my head was about to be removed from my body. In my confusion, I followed the Imperial soldier throughout the city and into the keep. Anyway, one thing led to the next and I ended up with a new friend and found myself in the small town of Riverwood. Curiously, it seemed to be much like Elinhir, which made me feel more at peace in the new country. As I went to sleep in Hadvar's uncle's house, I felt relaxed after a day of complete chaos.
  
  At the request of Alvar, the patron of the family accommodating me, I made my way to Whiterun with a bunch of spiffy new gear and equipment, including this diary. Skyrim is an amazing place, as I discovered while strolling down the path to Whiterun. The river trickling down the rocks, the wind blowing through the high grass, and every sound of nature enveloped me as I walked. That and the cool breeze flowing down the stone path made Skyrim a very refreshing change from the scorching deserts of Hammerfell. Although, I did meet a few rude Imperial soldiers who insisted that I was interfering with their business just by being there. The nerve of some people.
  
  I passed by a meadery and a few farms until I spotted, in the distance, a giant swinging its club at people on a cabbage patch. My instincts suddenly roared as I charged toward the giant with sword and shield in hand. I came up behind the giant as he swung the club at a red-haired woman with odd war paint across her face, an Imperial woman in armor, and a Nord man with similar armor. I swung my sword into one of the giant's knees, then the other. He groaned in pain as his knees buckled under him. I then leaped up and dealt a heavy blow against his head, which felled the giant.
  
  The trio then introduced themselves as Ria, Aela, and Farkas. Aela was apparently impressed by my skills as a warrior and invited me to join a group called the Companions in the hall of Jorrvaskr in Whiterun. As they too proved themselves to be strong combatants, I will have to consider the offer carefully.
  
  
  Anywho, I then helped pick crops on a few farms and made my way into Whiterun. As I passed the market, I struck up a conversation with a woman named Carlotta. She had aparrently been harrassed continuously by a bard, Mikael. I headed into the Bannered Mare and told Mikael to leave Carlotta alone, which he didn't take kindly too. It came to fists, which I didn't mean to happen, and he went down after a few punches and a mean left hook. Carlotta was very appreciative, and gave me a heavy purse of coins. I used ten to rent a room here, at the Bannered Mare, and, oh, it's 11:30. I must have lost track of time in this diary. Well, I need to get to sleep. I will see the Jarl tomorrow and update my diary then.

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