Spoiler Observations and Experiences of a Lupine Cleric - Likos' Journal

[David Wik]

Day 166—Fredas 30th of Morning Star
I decided to leave Frost at Lakeview while Mjoll and I made the trek out to Markarth. The Reach is such a beautiful place, so full of Her bounty, that I could not bear the thought of watching it simply slide by on horseback. I knew we had crossed into the Reach when I found a young man and his horse embroiled in a battle with a small group of Forsworn. I rushed to heal the man of his wounds while Mjoll, imbued with strength from my magic, battled and killed the attackers.

The man, it turned out, was a peddler who told me that the Forsworn had been strangling supply and trade routes throughout the Reach. I assured him that I would kill every one of the heathens that crossed my path. I understand that the Forsworn believe themselves to be the rightful inhabitants of the Reach, and perhaps this is correct, but attacking and murdering innocent merchants is not the logical course of action in such a situation.

Near Markarth I overheard a pair of Miners speaking to their employer about a place called Kolskeggr Mine which the Forsworn had apparently invaded. I could see Mjoll's massive shoulders slouch as she sighed. She knew before I spoke that we would be backtracking to rid the mine of Forsworn. I don't think Mjoll understands why I bear such malice for the savages but that is only because she does not know my history.

She was even more displeased when, upon reaching the mine, I shifted. There were but a handful of Forsworn in the tunnels and routing the invaders took no more than half an hour. I noticed that Mjoll did not join in the battle as I leapt from Forsworn to Forsworn, tearing tendons and rending flesh. In retrospect I should probably have warned Mjoll about my... alternate skill set. Lust for Forsworn blood had clouded my judgement.

Mjoll did not speak of my transformation but I noticed she began to lag further behind than usual. True, in the mountainous Reach I tend to scale cliffs and swim down Rivers rather than follow the roads. I know Mjoll's armor makes it difficult for her to keep pace with me but even when I sat and waited for her to catch up I noticed she would approach me warily. Truly, the Werewolves of Skyrim must be terrible and mindless beasts if all I've met are so horrified of Lycanthropy. I have half a mind to track down the perpetuators of this fear and kill them myself.

I delivered the contract from Bolli to Klepper at the sleepery. Mjoll said that she wanted to return to Riften, that there was still much that needed to be done there. I told her that there were still some things I wanted to take care of in Markarth so we headed to the Elder's hut where I visited with my old friend, Calcemo. I spoke to Calcemo about some of the Dwemer ruins I'd visited recently and he was more than happy to take notes on my stories.

When Calcemo told me of a lost expedition into Nchuand-Zel, the Dwemer ruin beneath Markarth, I jumped at the chance to explore it and look for the misplaced men. Mjoll reiterated her desire to return to Riften but I ignored her complaints. As we picked our way through Nchuand-Zel, I kept my eyes open for sapphires but found none. What I did find were the members of the expedition scattered throughout the ruined Dwemer village along with a massive number of Falmer.

It seems that, recently, the Falmer had been mounting vicious assaults against the Dwemer automatons. Since the automatons were the only things keeping the Falmer from invading Markarth it seemed in poor taste to systematically dismantle any automatons I found. Make no mistake, that's exactly what I did, but at least I managed to battle back the tide of Falmer and reactivate the remaining security systems left in place by the Dwemer.

Satisfied that Markarth was safe, Mjoll and I left the ruin and returned to Calcemo with the news. He was intrigued by the prospect of an intelligent plan for invasion being mounted by the Falmer but finally admitted he was glad it had been halted. He gave me a large sum of gold and then we spoke a while about his recent courtship with Faleen. He divulged that they were engaged to be married in only a few weeks' time.

I returned to the mine near Markarth and reported that Kolskeggr was clear of all Forsworn. A Manmer named Pavo thanked me for my work and allowed Mjoll and I to sleep in the workers' quarters. In the morning Mjoll and I woke and, amidst more of her requests to return to Riften, headed to Solitude. Mjoll's mood seemed to improve once we reached the capitol of Skyrim and she told me a story about how she and her mother used to visit.

While I was visiting the Solitude witch to see if she had any new spells, I overheard a conversation about a cave from which strange sounds and lights had been emanating. I offered to check out the disturbance and, much to Mjoll's chagrin, headed out immediately. The cave is called Wolfskull cave and I wondered if it might be related to the Wolves painted on the shield of every Warrior in the city.

Wolfskull cave was home to an unwelcome mix of necromancers and frustratingly durable Draugr. Mjoll, with my support, took on the necromancers while I used arcane sunlight and fire to quell the Draugr that accompanied them. I must admit that Mjoll and I made an excellent team and we cleansed the cave without much trouble. The acoustics within Wolfskull were such that I could easily hear a cabal of necromancers performing some dark ritual as I traveled. The chance to observe a necromantic ritual was exciting. I knew most of what any necromancer knows but I had seen almost none of it in actual practice. As much as My Elder had cautioned me that to even look upon such a ritual was to give a piece of your soul to those performing it, I could not stem my curiosity.

We came to a tower built of stone on top of which a circle of necromancers, revealed by my Detect Life spell, were summoning forth a being named Potema. I recognize her name from a series of books though I admit I have only skimmed them. I am missing a few volumes and would be loathe to read a series without having all the titles. I only know that she was once the queen of Solitude and eventually turned to Necromancy to maintain her flagging power.

Mjoll's plan, the Nord she is, was to run up the winding staircase and engage all hostiles simultaneously. I think she realized a little too late what having me charge into overwhelming odds would entail. I watched the Lioness grip the haft of her axe and flex her tree-like arms. I have to note here that our approaches to battle are very different, as I imagine the difference between any Warrior and Acolyte would be. She spends the time before battle stamping her feet and spitting slurs at an enemy that cannot yet hear her. She does everything in her power to raise her heart rate before descending on her foes like a maelstrom of iron.

My preparation for battle usually involves long, slow and deep breaths meant to calm my body and clear my mind while I formulate plans and strategies. Even when I call upon the form of The Wolf, I strike tactically. I charge archers on the edge of the field, ensuring I have a large area in which to maneuver. I save slow but powerful Warriors for last, using the free space to dodge and strike in short, but effective, outbursts of brutality. The Wolf himself does not use these tactics, he fights like Mjoll. He howls and beats his chest and claws the air before running directly into the center of his foes, rarely leaving anything behind but a tempest of arterial spray.

I knew Mjoll would charge ahead of me and my Detect Dead spell showed that all on the platform above us were living, breathing humans. While her Nordic blood may grant her a resistance to the Ice Magic favored by necromancers, we had already come across a few who favored Shock Magic. She has no resistance to electricity. Mjoll insisted again that we charge immediately, before they finished their ritual. I decided to abide her this once.

I called forth the form of The Wolf and knocked Mjoll out of my path as I charged up the stairs. I heard her cry out in pain as she fell backward down the steps but I knew she would be alright. She needed to understand why I approach things in such a calm and level-headed way. I had to show her the alternative.

The necromancers were so surprised at my arrival in Lupine form that the first two I slaughtered only stood there as my teeth found their vitals. The remaining four managed to shake off the paralyzing fear with which my sudden appearance had infected them. Mjoll crested the stairs, axe in hand, but stood inactive and only watched. I crushed heads against stone and tore organs out of torsos. I snapped necks with jaws and opened throats with fangs. All told, it took me less than two minutes to end the ritual which the necromancers had been performing.

I reverted and checked the altar for a spell book or scroll. I wanted to see exactly which ritual the coven had been attempting. I had no luck in that endeavor and so Mjoll and I left Wolfskull to report back to the steward of the Solitude Elder. Mjoll was silent during the entire journey. For my part, I was thrilled to have thwarted such an unholy plan and glad for the chance to see some necromancers pay the price for their blasphemy.

I spoke to Falk Firebeard, the steward, and explained what had happened at Wolfskull. The mention of the name Potema turned a strong-voiced man into a whimpering boy as he thanked me for the service I had provided. As I turned to leave, the Solitude Elder beckoned to me. When I approached she cast her eyes nervously around the room and lowered her voice. Elisif asked me to deliver a memento of her husband to a shrine of Talos, citing that something similar had already been done in the name of the Divines.

I reminded her that Talos worship was illegal but she insisted it was only to grant her husband's wishes. When I asked her directly if she worshipped Talos she only replied that it was illegal. I knew that, unlike what the rebels said, not all Imperials were Thalmor puppets. This simple exchange reinforced my belief that the Imperial Legion was only gathering the strength they would need to oust the dominion. The rebels were disrupting that plan, though they could not see it.

Since Skyrim politics are not my domain, I decided to carry out the task for the Solitude Elder. I took a winding route from Solitude to the Talos shrine. It was located quite some distance away, near Whiterun, but I did not want to take the chance that some malcontent would follow me in order to persecute the Elder. When my spells and senses told me that I was not followed, I approached the shrine and placed the horn of the late High King Torygg upon it.

Talos made no show of himself. No ethereal words of thanks or mystical energies came forth from the altar. I suppose that is to be expected when an altar is built with no God behind it. I knew that I would need to return to Solitude to tell Elisif that her deed was done but I did not want to raise suspicions by returning so soon after our clandestine conversation.

Instead I decided to head to Morthal to obtain the deed for a plot of land out in the swamp. I had just enough money to cover the cost and figured I might as well lighten my pocket. After the deed was mine, I spoke to the man who had been assigned as my Housecarl. I explained to him that I already had a Housecarl but he insisted that he was sworn to guard me and my Hjaalmarch property.

I arrived at the plot of land and was immediately impressed. I do love the raw Nature present in the swamp. The scent of decomposition is a familiar one and I have drawn comfort from it since I was but a child. I like that the wide open space surrounding my land is blanketed in snow and thus affords no opportunity for ambushes. From here I can actually see the Blue Palace of Solitude. Oddly, a sight which would have filled me with disgust only a few months ago now brings comfort. I know my allies, the Imperial Legion are close at hand.

At first, I believed myself to be fortunate to have a woman such as Mjoll by my side to help build my new hut. I am no Hutsmith, though I do have a mind well-suited for architecture. I cannot lift a beam on my own let alone the wall of a hut. I am dexterous but I dare not endanger my hands swinging a hammer anywhere near them. They are too vital to both my spell and potioncraft. I started to rummage through the supplies I found left at the site by the Morthal Elder's men when Mjoll told me that we should be out in Skyrim, fighting. Nords.

The Lioness was unsatisfied with my apparent lack of compassion for the people of Riften and insisted that we head back to the downtrodden hole of a village to help them. I reminded her that Riften would still be a den of filth in a week or so when construction on my hut was completed but that did not seem to assuage her desire to leave. We were at an impass and I told her to go back to Riften on her own.

Truthfully I think that watching my bloody dance atop the altar in Wolfskull made Mjoll reconsider our partnership. Though she knew from our adventures in the Reach that I carried The Wolf inside of me, I don't think it really sank in until she saw the carnage I inflicted at Wolfskull. Mjoll is a good-hearted woman but I think she has been in Riften too long and has forgotten how savage everything outside of village walls can be; must be, for survival.

The Wolf's day is coming, two of them together in fact, and so I have decided to remain here in the swamp until they have passed. I have enlisted the aid of my Housecarl, Valdimar, in building my hut here. He is older than Mjoll but seems physically capable and enthusiastic about serving his Thane. I explained to him early on that I have no need of servants, only allies, but I do not think he is yet used to the idea. He still will not call me by my name, insisting on formalities I have long grown tired of.

Earlier today, as Valdimar and I began collecting clay and stone for the foundation of my hut, I was approached by a courier. It seems Falk has news regarding the ritual of Potema which I interrupted. Once Valdimar have finished construction I will head back to Solitude to speak with Falk. From the urgency in his script, I can tell that the news he has for me is unpleasant so I am in no rush whatsoever to receive it.

 

[makoman8]

Great line:

rarely leaving anything behind but a tempest of arterial spray.

 

[David Wik]

Day 173—Fredas 6th of Sun's Dawn
My hut was completed not long after I received the letter from Falk in Solitude. My Windstad hut is nothing like my Lakeview abode. It is small and contains only a bed, a fire pit and a chair on which I can sit while reading. Once Valdimar and I had completed building the small structure, I headed for Solitude to see why Falk had summoned me. When Falk spoke to me, he had the boyish tremble in his voice he'd shown the first time I mentioned Potema.

Falk told me that her essence had escaped Wolfskull and taken up residence in the Solitude catacombs from which she had drawn much power long ago. I was asked to speak with a Priest named Styrr who lived in the Solitude crypt. The Priest explained that when I interrupted the ritual in Wolfskull I succeded only in breaking the binds that the necromancers had been attempting to weave over Potema. He told me that she had managed to pull her essence into Nirn and that, before long, she would find a way to restore herself to full power.

Apparently a bond was formed between Potema and I when I spilled the blood of her followers across her altar. Styrr believed I was the only one who would be able to pass her minions and retrieve that which he would need to perform Rites which would banish her forever. My next question was about Potema's nature and history but Styrr had little for me beyond legends and speculation. I knew that I would have to complete my collection of The Wolf Queen volumes if I was to really understand my foe.

I spent a few days searching all the repositories of books that I've come across in my travels through Skyrim. My goal was to find the remaining book in the The Wolf Queen. I was missing only one, the sixth volume in the series. The college of Winterhold did not have the book for which I searched. Even as Arch-Mage there were tomes that the Orsimer Librarian would not allow me to view. I spoke to the conjuration professor to ask if he knew anything about such a fabled necromancer but he did not. I did purchase a tome from him that would allow me to summon an Atronach woven from the electricity of shock magic. I named it Kataigida which means “storm” or “tempest” in my native tongue.

I headed to Windhelm but quickly realized the Nords there are not prone to keeping large stores of books within their city. The Dunmer of Windhelm had more tomes in their possession but I was ultimately disappointed. I took a carriage to Whiterun and spent the daylight hours with Acolyte Jenssen. At night I crept into the hut of the Whiterun Elder. There were many books on display and, while dodging a particularly aggressive Dunmer Housecarl, I found the book for which I had been searching.

With the entire set of The Wolf Queen in my pack, I returned to Windstad manor. I had a lot of reading to finish and I had no desire for the interruptions inherent to Lakeview. It took me the better part of an evening but I managed to choke down the entire account of Potema, the Wolf Queen of Solitude. It was clear from my books that I had my work cut out for me. I considered bringing assistance. The nearest possibility was Valdimar, my Hjaalmarch Housecarl, but he is no Warrior. He fights with magic just as I do and my time with Brelyna taught me that I cannot abide another mage in battle at my side.

After more consideration I decided that there was nobody I would subject to the horrors of what Potema would surely set against me. I knew it would be a quest I would undertake on my own. Besides, a foe like Potema would be an excellent chance to test myself.

Without delay, I returned to the Solitude crypt and entered into Potema's catacombs. It was not long before the Wolf Queen spoke to me. She told me that she could sense my power and that she longed to kill me so that I may take my place at her side for eternity. I, of course, welcomed her to try. She did, for the next few hours, as I crawled through a maze of Draugr and vampires.

Other than the chance to kill dozens of undead, there was nothing of interest within Potema's hiding place. I found no books and no sapphires. When it finally came time to battle the Wolf Queen, she spoke to me again. She raised her inner council and set them upon me while filling the room with beams of pure shock energy. If I did not possess The Wound I would have perished, without a doubt.

Potema's magic was her undoing and I used the power she was raining down upon me to fuel the spells which would kill all of her minions. With Kataigida supporting me from the edges of the coffin-lined chamber, I summoned explosion after explosion into the center of the Draugr army. I lined the floor with walls of flame, funneling the undead into my bombardment.

I approached Potema's ancient throne and saw her remains seated atop it. As I approached, her spirit attacked me directly and I burned it down with little incident. Conjuring the undead to impede me had taxed her energy. The essence of The Wolf Queen retreated into the remains, gathering strength for another revival. This fact stopped Potema's remains from being truly dead and so there was no law preventing me from snatching her skull from the throne and fleeing the catacombs with it.

I watched with great interest as Styrr performed the Rites of Ar'kay which would prevent Potema's soul from ever regaining a hold on her body. Falk was grateful for my success and gave me a shield imbued with the power to block magic. I am more interested in the fact that, aside from this enchantment, the shield is identical to those carried by the Warriors of Solitude. It is red, like the markings on my face. It carries the emblem of The Wolf, like the markings in my core.

After a quick conversation with the Solitude witch I was told about a nest of vampires that had begun attacking the people of Solitude. I knew that she recognized The Wolf in me just as I recognized that she was a vampire. From all accounts I gathered, she only fed on prisoners in the Solitude dungeons. It is not unlike how I feed only bandits, outlaws and Forsworn to The Wolf so I felt no desire to kill her. She was testing me, I knew. She wanted to see if this new man, who had so quickly gained favor in the court of which she had been a part for so long, posed any threat to her position as Court Wizard.

I don't think she intended for me to return from the mission on which she sent me but I could see a fearful respect bloom in her hungry eyes when I returned to inform her for my victory. She rewarded me with some finery and a quick lesson in the school of illusion to which I listened with only half an ear. I have no use for the manipulation of others. I prefer the honesty to which I have always bound myself.

An odd thing occured within the nest of vampires to which Sybille, the Solitude witch, had sent me. When I opened a large and ornate chest, praying to Kynareth for a sapphire, I found something both remarkable and horrifying. It was a jewel unlike any I'd seen before. It was an octagonal prism with the color and texture of a pearl. Beyond that, words fail in their ability to describe it.

When my hands touched the surface of the object I heard a feminine voice echo between my ears. It was not unlike my experiences with Clavicus Vile and Mehrunes Dagon so I knew immediately that I was dealing with a Daedric Prince. She introduced herself as Meridia and asked that I bring the gem back to her temple in order to purge it of an evil she claimed had infected it. Because of Meridia's dislike for all that is undead, I knew that they must be the “foul darkness” of which she spoke.

After the experience with Mehrunes Dagon and the way his influence had ensnared me I am more than a little wary of Meridia's request. I know that I have already done her a favor in retrieving her beacon from the vampires who held it. This is the reason I have decided to proceed with her task. Even a Daedra Prince is able to recognize when their will coincides with the desire of a mortal. I know that as long as I am successful in my end of the bargain, I have nothing to fear from Meridia.

I am resting at Winstad in preparation for my journey to Meridia's temple. As hungry as I am for the death of more undead, my encounter with Potema and then the vampires has left me drained. I know embarking on Meridia's quest now would be pure folly.

It's curious. I've noticed that, while I'm glad to be away from the bustle of Lakeview, I find my mind wandering back to it frequently. If I had to name the emotion which brings such thoughts to mind I would be at a loss. There are things within Lakeview to which I would never want to see harm come and so I dislike that I am not there to protect them. This sentiment is foreign to me. Even when I left My Tribe I did not have this problem. Perhaps it is because I know that My Tribe is perfectly capable of defending itself from any threat as it did for the centuries before I was conceived.

I may return to Lakeview, if only to temporarily relieve myself of whatever this gnawing discomfort is. It is a distraction and cannot be allowed to taint my thoughts while I am exploring or embroiled in battle. Such emotional responses are dangerous in the face of adversity. A mind must always be clear.

 

[David Wik]

Great line:

Thanks. That's what happens when I type out an entry while I have "Bones" on TV in the background lol.

 

[David Wik]

I decided I might as well post a couple of pictures of Likos. The quality is horrid and it may look like I tried to use Photoshop's Watercolor Filter, but that's what happens when you take a pictures of your screen on your phone and then edit them in MS Paint XD.

At the very least it gives a general idea of what he looks like. These were taken standing on the porch of Likos' Lakeview house.

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[David Wik]

Day 181—Loredas 14th of Sun's Dawn
My meeting with Meridia at her shrine went almost exactly as planned. It was not hard to find her temple, it is only a short walk from Solitude. It speaks to Meridia's character that a Daedric shrine is allowed to stand so close to the capitol.

The Daedra Prince managed to somehow transport me hundreds of feet into the air. I admit I missed most of what she was saying, preferring to study the land as a bird sees it. I was stunned into paralysis by the beauty. Meridia, showing herself only as a ball of resplendant light, bade me enter her temple and cleanse it. I was too enthralled by the view to ask what I would be facing inside of the structure.

When Meridia dropped me back to Skyrim's surface, I felt a thrill almost as potent as that of taking a life. After I had composed myself and added some detail to my map based on what I'd seen from on high I hunted down a Deer to calm my nerves and headed into Kilkreath temple.

I have to hand it to Meridia, her temple was wondrous. While Ancient Nordic in architecture the temple itself was an elaborate mechanism, fueled by nothing more than Meridia's light. My task was to defeat the creatures dwelling within and the necromancer who had summoned them. The creatures were not like any undead I knew. They were formed from a black, dusty mist which swept cold into the air around them.

Scattered around the temple were the bodies of Imperial Soldiers, still in their armor. Progress through the temple was exceptionally slow for this reason. Once I'd cleared a swath through the murky ink that floated through the air, I would backtrack and perform Rites for my fallen allies. I doubt Meridia was pleased to see me performing Kynareth's Rites in her temple but the Daedra's feelings are less than a secondary concern to me.

The Shades, crafted from the darkness of cold, were abysmally weak to the flame and light I used to dispel them. As such, I burned through all my foes with little effort. I'm beginning to think that the Daedra may be wiser than I'd previously considered. In retrospect, I was the perfect man for Meridia's task. A man with a dislike for the undead and necromancy that rivals her own. A man talented in the conjuring and manipulation of light and fire. A cleric who bears no malice toward the Daedra.

As I traveled through the temple, I used a quick charm to reactivate the conductors of Meridia's light. It was not a straightforward path and I was glad to find my forward progress stymied more than once by a puzzle that took time and thought to solve.

When I arrived at the final chamber, I found the necromancer responsible for this new breed of undead. Meridia had told me his name was Malkoran and I approached him silently. I was unsure if he was human or if his truck with dark magic had corrupted his soul beyond repair. Before I got close enough to hear the beating of his heart, I was surrounded by a group of shades who fell on me with their icy steel.

They erupted from the floor like miasma. I used Florentius' spell to shroud myself in sunlight, affording myself space in which to maneuver. I washed the entire room in flame as Malkoran tired to end my life with whirlwind after whirlwind of frost. I tore The Wound open and used his own power to destroy all of his minions. He shrieked with rage and charged me wielding a ward which absorbed my basic firebolt without trouble.

Unfortunately for the ill-fated necromancer, I am an expert with the elements and I had more than just firebolts at my disposal. I killed Malkoran but he did not remain dead for long. Before the smoking heap of his body hit the floor another shade rose up from within him. My instinct had been correct, this was no man. It was much more formidable than the other shades but just as flammable.

Meridia thanked me for returning to her light to the temple. She rewarded me with a sword enchanted for the sole purpose of killing undead with some sort of holy magic that would cause them to explode. Seems a bit of a roundabout when I can simply explode them myself. Nevertheless, the sword is beautiful and will make a pleasing addition to my collection.

I have spent the last few days doing nothing but wandering the wilderness, hunting and killing vampires. I gave thought to visiting The Dawnguard again but surely the renovations they were planning on the fortress cannot be completed yet. I will do my part out here, instead, killing any undead that I find. Given the fact that I've yet to see a single member of the Dawnguard in my travels, I can assume that they are not quite ready to face the vampire threat head on.

There is the issue which I have relegated to the rear of my mind for quite some months now. The animals of Skyrim are becoming increasingly aggressive. They are, without a doubt, adapting to something but I cannot figure exactly what that might be. At first I thought it might be the vampires but after watching a small pod of Mudcrabs kill a trio of them easily, I decided that could not be the case. Animals do not adapt unless there is significant threat or competition.

I decided to return to the Forests of Skyrim and search out an answer to this puzzle. The days when I was not attacked by Nature's beasts seem like a distant memory. It is a fond memory, though, and I wish to find why the creatures of Skyrim have become so desperate to defend themselves. I would almost be tempted to say that it is because of my hunting and The Wolf's but he does not eat animals and I only kill enough for two or three meals a day.

I have asked The Wolf why his brethren are so terrified but he is at a loss just as much as I am. It is his day tomorrow and I fear he has grown tired of the swamp. He begs me head South where he can hunt Mammoths on the plains but I am not so quick to assume he can kill a heard of the beasts on his own. He has been well-behaved as of late and for that reason, I think, he is not as strong as he was weeks ago.

The Wolf seems to be suffering a condition contrary to that of the other fauna of Skyrim. Where the Spiders and Bears have become larger, more numerous and more aggressive, my friend has become almost timid. He comes forth only reluctantly, dutifully, when I call him. He has not broken through the barrier outside his days in quite some time. In a way, this troubles me more than when he was slaughtering innocent villagers.

My theory is that I have been fighting the undead too frequently. The Wolf despises undead but not with the burning fury present within Meridia and myself. He fears them. He refuses to fight such abominations unless it is a dire emergency. The smell of them sends him cowering light a Dog in a thunderstorm. He understands why I must hunt the abominations but that doesn't necessarily mean he likes it. I will watch closely on his day and see if he gives me any clues to the reason for his change in demeanor.

 

[David Wik]

Day 186—Turdas 19th of Sun's Dawn
An interesting thing occurred on The Wolf's day. I headed to the Eldergleam Sanctuary to pray and commune with my Goddess. Being so near to the sacred Tree did much to soothe my mind of recent conflicts. I felt less on edge than I have been feeling for the last few weeks, months if I'm being honest. My entire time within the glow of Kynareth's beauty was devoid of any thoughts of murder or the enjoyable sizzling and popping sounds people make when I put them to flame.

The Wolf took control in the volcanic flats, glad for the warmth they bring. While he didn't kill any Mammoths, he did perform a number of brutal assassinations on their masters. I suppose he's still sore about the time one attacked Lakeview. After he finished terrorizing the local Giant population, The Wolf decided to head West, toward Whiterun. The trepidation I normally feel when I see The Wolf heading toward a population center was absent. I knew he had already taken everything he wanted from the village.

The Wolf did not make it to Whiterun. As he travelled along the White River he came to a fortress guarded by a trio of men armed with weapons crafted of pure silver. It is said that a weapon forged from silver is deadly to The Wolf, or myself in his form, but that did not seem to bother my friend in the least. He may or may not have been spurned on by the fact that the men in question were guarding a fortress with Werewolf heads mounted on pikes outside.

Predictably, once the sentries were eliminated, The Wolf broke into the fortress and ate every heart within its walls. It was strange watching The Wolf after all the men and women were dead. He wandered around the building with his nose in the air. He pawed at books he found on shelves, he stripped the armor from bodies and rifled through their undergarments in his clumsy and destructive way. He was looking for something particular, that much was obvious.

Unfortunately for him, The Wolf cannot read anything beyond the basic symbology we teach to the youngest members of Our Tribe. He gave me the reins and begged me to turn my usual curious gaze on the contents of the structure. I, of course, could not deny him the favor. I already knew the group was called the “Silver Hand”, they had shouted as much as The Wolf disassembled them. I also discerned that they were Werewolf Hunters, though not in the same way which the Vigilants are. The Silver Hand draped their walls with the hides and bodies of Werewolves as if they are mere trophies. The Wolf wanted to know if there were more in Skyrim.

I could not find evidence that the group we'd stumbled upon was anything but a single group of fanatics but The Wolf was not satisfied. On closer investigation I found that they lacked a forge which led me to the conclusion that their weapons were crafted elsewhere. Obviously this was only a single chapter of the group. The Wolf was ready to head back out into the Flats but he had opened a door which could not so easily be closed again. I did not leave until my curiosity was satisfied. I found a couple of books but no sapphires.

The Wolf spent the rest of his time hunting shady-looking wanderers along the roads to Lakeview. What attributes by which he judged the people, I cannot say. He killed a nobleman on horseback but left his Imperial guide unharmed and then mauled a group of rebels and, later, an Orsimer woman dressed in rags.

I arrived at Lakeview as sunlight did and spent the morning with Vigilance, patrolling the pine Forest. I think that he was glad to finally be out of the house. As much as he loves the boys, I'm sure Vigilance appreciates space as much as I do. The pine Forest was rife with Bears, Wolves and Spiders. The number of predators has increased so sharply that I found only a single Deer on which to feed while Vigilance was forced to be satisfied with a single Rabbit.

When I had finished the patrol of my territory, I returned to Lakeview and spent the afternoon with Blaise as I practiced my potioncraft. As usual, I invited Gralnach to participate but he declined. My potions are notably more potent than they were only a few weeks ago. I have learned to be more careful in the ratios I use while mixing tonics and the results have been astounding. I have done what I can to impart this wisdom to Blaise and he seems in absorbent enough. He has begun to ask me questions about The Wound and other properties of being a Manmer. I was already getting tired of the sound of his voice and the smell of the dirt in which he often plays so I told him we would continue another day. I brewed a new kit of potions in private; some of the mixtures should not be learned by a child.

Vigilance and I headed Westward, patrolling the shores of Lake Ilinalta and looping around to the Northern edge of the lake. We went Eastward on our search for threats and interlopers. I suppose it is another effect of my nature but I find I have a driving need to clear the area around my camp and Lakeview of anything that could be potentially threatening. When I first arrived in Skyrim, my patrols were short and limited to a dozen yards or so in each direction. Now I find my patrols take me almost the entire breadth of Falkreath Hold. The entire pine Forest is mine, now.

I arrived in the village of Riverwood, satisfied that my land was clear. I went to Lucan's tradery in the hopes that he might be carrying a sapphire which I could purchase. I had no idea how much one would cost and I hoped that the few hundred gold I possessed would be sufficient. When I entered Lucan's hut, I smelled salt water and heard Lucan's sister sobbing into her hands.

The shop was a complete mess. Apples and potatoes were scattered over the floor and entire displays had been overturned. I asked Lucan what had happened and he explained that some thieves had come into his hut and ransacked it. I asked if anyone had been harmed but he assured me there was no need for my healing gifts. Apparently my fame in Falkreath has not gone unnoticed; Lucan was quick to ask if I would travel to a nearby ruin and retrieve that which had been stolen.

Lucan and his sister have always been exceptionally kind to me. Even back when I spoke only fragmented Cyrodiilic they were patient and considerate. I told Lucan that I would be more than happy to retrieve his stolen possession. The Wolf was overjoyed that I would be heading into a den of bandits but changed his tune when Camilla mentioned that there were probably Draugr and other undead within the ruin she called Bleak Falls Barrow.

The bandits had not made much progress into Bleak Falls. There was only a smattering of them near the entrance which, as The Wolf, I shredded quickly. I have no patience for those who steal from others to make their living and took great pleasure in feeding their hearts to my friend. In human form, I asked Vigilance to wait for me when we arrived at a gate controlled by a simple puzzle. I find I'm far more effective in battle when I can unleash the full magnitude of my abilities without concern for allies who may be caught in the path of my spells.

I also find I have no need of distractions beyond those provided by my Atronachs. It is difficult to explain but Pyr, Kruos and Kataigida have all become markedly more. . . potent in recent days. The other bonus of using Atronachs instead of Dogs or people is that, if I use the correlating element, I can cast around them with abandon. Unfortunately, Vigilance insisted on assisting me and I could not refuse him.

I was lured to the web of a giant Spider by the voice of a man who had become entangled. I dispatched the Spider with a healthy dose of fire and then pulled away the webbing around the trapped Dunmer. Instead of thanks, I received a few insulting words as the man ran away down a narrow tunnel. I fired a paralysis spell at him but it missed and I was forced to give chase.

The pursuit did not last for long. In his haste, the Dunmer failed to take notice of his surroundings and he triggered a spiked wall trap which spread his entrails around the chamber. I retrieved the golden claw of which Lucan had spoken. It was remarkably similar to the one I'd been given by Wilhelm in Ivarstead. I knew that meant there had to be a door within Bleak Falls similar to the one the sapphire claw had unlocked.

Even though I had what I'd come for, I decided to press on. The rest of the barrow was overrun by Draugr but luckily none were very strong. In the final chamber,I spotted another Wall across the great cavern and headed toward it, jumping over a small stream which blocked my path. I looked around cautiously. I've learned that these Walls are often guarded by terrible creatures and I had no desire to fight one while I was blinded by the magic within the carvings. The words which soon showed themselves did nothing to allay my fears.

Here lies the guardian Keeper of the dragonstone And a force of unending rage and darkness.

I noted that the word “force” was the last word glowing and heard a shambling sound from behind me. Vigilance barked viciously and I turned to see him engaged with the most powerful Draugr I've encountered to date. A force of rage and darkness indeed. It wielded a massive sword which was enchanted with Frost Magic. I summoned Pyr and inserted myself between Vigilance and the Keeper of the Dragonstone. A single blow from the magical blade showed me the folly of my decision.

As confident as I have grown in the past weeks, I still lack any sort of physical fortitude beyond that which my Ebonyflesh spell affords me. I healed myself and finished the battle from the other side of the brook, unwilling to experience the pain wrought by the Draugr's sword a second time. When the Keeper had fallen I looked inside its tomb and found a large, heavy stone. On one side was a map of Skyrim, marked to show the locations of something but I cannot say what.

The other side of the tablet was etched with the same language as the Walls but no matter how I shook, rubbed or otherwise molested the stone I could not trigger the same reaction I got from the Walls. The text remains a mystery. I will have to peruse my library for anything which mentions such a tablet.

I returned the claw to Lucan who gave me a sack of coins worth almost five time what I already carried. He mentioned that his sister was available, but I didn't understand what he was talking about so I left his hut, nodding politely. I decided to return to Whiterun to ask Jenssen if he wanted me to watch the Temple while he made a pilgrimage to the Eldergleam. On my way into the Temple, I overheard a Redguard couple arguing about a lost sword.

More to stop the shouting from infecting the Temple than to help the Redguards, I agreed to retrieve the sword. I decided that I would speak to Jenssen later and headed out of the village to find Amren's lost sword. I found a cave of bandits and tore through it as The Wolf. They did not have the sword. Confused, I consulted my map and realized that the location Amren had marked was quite a bit East of where I was currently.

I would feel bad about slaughtering the wrong troupe of bandits but I figured that I probably would have killed them all eventually anyway. When I finally found the correct location, I shifted once again and made a game of seeing how far I could fling bandits off a narrow bridge which spanned the two towers in which they had decided to camp. It was the same group of people who had, weeks ago, charged me fifty gold merely for travelling along “their” road and I aspired to get my money's worth, in entertainment, at least.

There are no books or jewels in this tower but darkness falls and I am exhausted from today's exploits. I will sleep here for the night. There is a bedroll at the very highest point of the structure and the chance to sleep under such an unobstructed sky is not one I can pass up. Tomorrow I need to return this sword to Amren. I cannot see why he was so desperate to reclaim it. I have swords of a far higher quality in a chest at Lakeview.

After I return the weapon, I will bring Vigilance back to Lakeview. He has already been in enough danger and his strategy in battle makes him as likely to be killed by my spells accidentally as he is to be killed by any foe. Besides, I am interested to see if I can find any reference to the Dragonstone in my collection of books. The tablet is unbearably heavy and I plan to leave it in Lakeview but I do not think I will be able to. I seem to be bonded to this stone. My hands refuse to remove it from my pack for even a moment.

 

[David Wik]

Day 193—Turdas 26th of Sun's Dawn
I left some books I thought might be pertinent to my research into the Dragonstone at Windstad manor so I headed North to retrieve them. I went alone as the increased predatory activity in Skyrim meant I would surely spend the entire journey battling beasts. The ferociousness of the Skyrim fauna increases daily. It seems almost as if there has been a sharp increase in competition which has driven animals to seek less. . . typical prey.

When I arrived at Windstad I looked for Valdimar but I could not find him. I used detect spells for both life and death. No trace. I collected my stash of books and read through them before turning in for the night. None of them were helpful in determining the function or purpose of the Dragonstone. The Morthal Elder seemed like a wise, if somewhat fanciful, woman. I thought she might know something about such an item. While I was in Morthal I checked around for Valdimar but he was not there. The Elder did not know anything about the stone and so I returned back South.

I stopped in Riverwood and spoke to an Imperial Warrior who was recovering from a nasty set of burns. I could see that some of the wounds had become infected. I healed him and left a few potions on the table at which he was sitting. The burns were magical. It was obvious from the almost crystalline grain of the wounds. Natural flame causes wounds which are uneven and unscientific. When questioned about the source of his injuries the Imperial Warrior, Hadvar, told me they'd been received from a Dragon. I had heard tales of Dragon attacks from “farmers” begging along the roads but this time the claim came from an Imperial Warrior. I could tell he was a low rank from his armor but still, his eyes had credibility.

Hadvar's uncle Alvor, the Riverwood Smith, supported the story with his own account of a sighting. The Smith asked me to go and speak to the Whiterun Elder and ask for a group of Warriors to protect the small milling village. The Wolf growled and I knew what he would have me do. Instead, I agreed to speak with the Whiterun Elder. Truthfully I had been wanting to speak to that Elder for quite some time. He was the man who led the village in which the Temple stood. I hadn't had a reason to visit before but I was certain the Dunmer Housecarl would let me pass with a message for the Elder himself.

I thought it was very likely that I would find only laughter in reply to my message but I was excited by my doubt. Surely an Elder in the area would have information that could verify or refute Hadvar and Alvor's claims. From what they told me and the state in which Hadvar's burns had been I was able to determine that the supposed attack had happened months ago, before I even arrived in Skyrim.

I dislike the fact that the accounts from the Imperial Warrior and the Smith explain phenomena that I have observed with my own senses. They explain the ruined city in the mountains near where the Nettlebane had been kept. They explain the amount of Mammoth bones in Skyrim, the sheer number of which points to predation. If even The Wolf gives Mammoth a noticeable berth, I have a hard time picturing any other creature in Skyrim regularly killing them for food.

I was filled with thoughts of the research I could do if Dragons were truly not extinct as I wound a path to Whiterun. Oddly, I found Valdimar wandering along the road. I questioned him briefly but saw he would give me no information as to his previous whereabouts. I sent him back to Windstad. Hopefully he actually returns there this time.

The Dunmer Housecarl was more than willing to let me speak with the Elder when I relayed my message. I was in disbelief. When the Elder himself confirmed the sightings, I was beyond thought. The Elder seems like man who does his duty well. He sent a contingent of Warriors, immediately, to Riverwood. It was at that point I knew the rumors must be true. I still do not believe that Dragons have come back in the way which the Elder implies.

I think that perhaps only one Dragon, long hidden from time like My People, has recently emerged from his asylum. Of course it would be foolish to ignore the possibility of a larger resurgence in the population. Until I see evidence with my own eyes of more than one Dragon alive in Skyrim, I will not believe that is the case. The Elder gifted me with a suit of armor forged from malachite. It was surprisingly light, almost the same weight as my furs. It would make a beautiful contribution to my collection.

The Elder sent me to speak to his wizard, Farengar. The air in the wizard's quarters smelled acrid. It took me a few moments but I eventually realized that it smelled like Spriggan sap. There was a distinctive odor to it with which I am quite familiar; I'd know the scent of burned Spriggan anywhere. I informed Farengar of his error and his haughty air vanished immediately. He mentioned that he needed a stone tablet from deep within an ancient ruin.

The thigh against which my pack rests twitched. He described the Dragonstone perfectly and mentioned that it was a map of ancient Dragon burial grounds. From memory, I knew that there was one such location marked near my camp in the pine Forest. I will definitely investigate the site when I have the time. When Farengar saw that I already had the Dragonstone, he was not nearly as impressed as he should have been. His voice was stale, as if he were reading his lines from a book.

As I quickly scanned the Dragonstone for more burial grounds and committed the map to memory Irileth burst into the room, her chest heaving. She said in no uncertain terms that a Dragon was attacking a nearby tower. The Housecarl, the wizard and I ran to hear the testimony of an eyewitness. Once the Warrior's story had been told, Irileth and I were sent to the watchtower to see if we could find evidence of a Dragon.

The Elder gifted me with a pair of boots which matched the armor he'd given to me earlier. According to Farengar, the boots were enchanted to increase the strength in my legs and back to allow me to carry more. Not entirely useful considering I rarely carry more than a kit of potions, a few handfuls of herbs and jewels. I left the Elder's hut with a thousand questions on my shoulders regarding the psychology and physiology of Dragons.

There was one way to find the answers for certain. I would not let a chance to study a live Dragon slip by me. I followed Irileth to the gates of Whiterun where she gathered a seemingly inadequate number of Warriors. If Dragons were real, surely it would take more than six quaking men to kill one. I had no idea of Irileth's prowess in battle but, if the Elder trusted her to accomplish the task, I too had faith in her.

It was time to meet a Dragon. I had little time to prepare but I tried to make the most of it. I knew that, in theory, Dragon breath was magical in nature. I was confident that The Wound and my talent with wards would protect me from at least some of the effect. My only concern was that the strength of the breath might be so great that it would overwhelm my absorbent properties. I had some anti-flame potions so I tucked the bottle necks into my belt for easier access and changed into the Arch-Mage robes. I knew if I had to fight a flying opponent, the hood would be invaluable in keeping the sun from my eyes.

I followed Irileth to the watchtower which was ablaze and crumbling. A numbing memory of the ruined city rose but I pushed it down. We searched the area and found a survivor who warned that the Dragon was still nearby. I heard a man cry out to Kynareth and it was then that I saw the Dragon soaring down from the mountains. I said my own quick prayer to Her and summoned Kataigida. I knew his quick and precise strikes would fare better against a quick, aerial target. At first I was hesitant to use Fire Magic against the Dragon but I decided it would be unwise to rule out my strongest weapon before trying it.

I watched as the Dragon swooped down and ripped a Warrior apart with a single bite. After shaking the man like The Wolf shakes a Rabbit, the Dragon flung the body toward me. I had to quickly dodge to the side to avoid breaking my vows.

The Dragon was magnificent and beautiful. Its scales were azure and carried a metallic sheen. Watching the way the Dragon's body rippled and flexed with movement was enchanting. Frost flowed from the Dragon's maw like breath from my own on a cool day. I admit I was unprepared for the possibility of an ice breathing Dragon. Foolish. I launched a few spells of each type at the Dragon. My Fire Magic was more effective than any of my other spells so I drank a potion to fortify my bond to the Elements and began the battle in earnest.

My ward spells, even when cast with both hands in a shell around my entire body, could only mitigate the damage from the Dragon's breath. All my wards shattered in only seconds. I tore The Wound open and made an interesting discovery. While in my completely absorbent state, I did indeed absorb the Dragon's breath but I gained no magicka from it. My conclusion was that while Dragon breath was indeed magical, it drew its power from something other than aether.

The entire battlefield was blanketed in steam as the Dragon and I traded Frost for Fire. I alternated between healing the wounds of Warriors and using what magicka I could spare launching an assault against the winged animal. The battle lasted for less than an hour but the strain was intense. By the time the Dragon fell, I was choking on the dryness in my throat. I caught snatches of breath as I moved to investigate the marvel before me.

Dragons are animals so there is no Law against manipulation of their body if they are slain by a member of My Tribe. Luckily the Dragon dispatched the men who had come to assist Irileth. The Dunmer was, just as fortunately, incapacitated by the Dragon's breath and unable to battle. This presented me with the honor of the killing blow. I moved to inspect the Dragon, noting the rough but dry texture of its scales and breathing its scent in deeply.

The body grew hot enough to drive me back a few yards and began to disintegrate before my eyes. I cried out in dismay, appalled at losing such a perfect specimen. Energy identical to that produced by the Walls began welling up within the flames of the corpse. I began to retreat but the energy burst out into a stream which followed me no matter where I tried to run. A memory flashed into my head of the Wall in Bleak Falls. “Force”, it had said.

I remembered how the word “force” had looked before magically reappearing in my native script. I remembered the nine parallel lines, ending with sharp points, facing out to the left. I heard the word spoken in my ear but it was not in my tongue. It was the tongue I heard from the Priest in Labyrinthian and countless Draugr. The word germinated in my core and blossomed outward, climbing my throat.

When I spoke dust, sticks and stones leaped away from me as if hit by some invisible strike of wind. A barely visible wave of blue light seemed to push at everything in front of me. For the next few seconds I could not speak. I moved my lips and air passed through my throat but no sound came. It was as if my voice had been completely spent. I saw the Warriors walking toward me, surrounding me. I heard wonder in their voices but decided to flee, just in case.

As I approached the Whiterun stables, intent on taking a carriage immediately back to Lakeview, the ground shook and I heard a symphony of voices shout an unfamiliar word. I turned away from the carriage. I wanted information about what had just happened. The Elder and his wizard seemed like the most likely source of data so I rebuked my fear and headed into Whiterun.

Shortly after I was inside the village I was accosted by a Reguard Warrior, dressed in what I understand to be typical Hammerfell garb, who wanted me to find somebody for him. I declined, noting that he was not allowed within the city and was therefore probably a criminal. I would not assist him. Still, I was curious. Finding the woman to whom the Redguards were referring could make for an engaging puzzle to solve.

I knew that I had to report the goings on at the Western watchtower to the Elder and see what he could tell me about the energy I'd spewed from my mouth. I had to have answers. Was the power sent from a Daedra? A God? Was it a curse upon me? Was my voice an uncontrollable weapon? These are the questions that plagued me as I marched toward my destination. I dared not speak.

The Elder and his wizard had only scraps of information, not nearly enough to satisfy me. They suggested I go and see a group of men called the “Greybeards”. He said they are masters of an ancient power which I now possess. He named me Thane of Whiterun and mentioned a small house for purchase near the village gates. I do not have near enough coin to make such a purchase, nor would I want to. Living inside a village is wholly unappealing to me.

I quickly walked past a woman I assumed to be my new Housecarl. It was obvious from the way she was outfitted and the fact that she walked toward me, incessantly referring to me as her Thane. I did not have the heart to risk blowing her apart with my voice just to tell her that she was homeless and so I pushed back out into the midday sun.

I returned to Lakeview, eager to spend time with my thoughts. The Whiterun Elder and his Warriors had called me Dragonborn but I am not so quick to believe every myth I hear. I read through the relevant books I possessed and found nothing that I could consider solid evidence. That was when a courier trudged up the wooden steps to the Lakeview balcony and handed me a letter. The letter was from a friend, apparently, someone who fully believed this Dragonborn business.

In the note was the name and location of a place which supposedly held a power that only a true Dragonborn could unlock. I decided it was the perfect chance to verify or deny these legends. I would head to this Ironbind Barrow and if I found I could unlock whatever power lay within, I would consider the possibility that the Whiterun Elder was correct. I gave some thought to the fact that the note could be a trap from any of my many enemies. After my experience with Dimhollow I learned that walking into a suspected trap was the most direct way to discover its true nature.

The carriage ride to Windhelm went by in a blur. My mind was consumed with information which it needed time to process. Putting aside for a moment the title of “Dragonborn”, I had to spend time reliving my battling of a Dragon. I refused to forget a single detail of the event. After all, it may be the last chance I or anyone else has to see a living, breathing specimen. It was information I would impart to My Tribe upon my return as Elder.

I was sad to admit that there was more than likely multiple Dragons. I had not seen the Dragon at the watchtower breath a single lick of flame, yet the entire area had been scorched. The ruined city to the South I now know to be called Helgen was no different. Burned. This was not solid evidence for more than one of the creatures but it did fortify the possibility.

Even in Windhelm the news that the Greybeards had summoned someone was rampant. Guards and villagers alike spoke excitedly about the possibilities such an event entailed. Apparently the legend of the Dragonborn is quite popular in Nordic culture. I still did not want to speak, lest my voice erupt from me as it had before. I had managed to navigate the conversations with the Elder and the carriage driver with gestures but miming left me unable to question people as intensely as I desired.

From Windhelm I traveled West to the camp I use whenever I'm in the region. The camp itself is nearly inhospitable but it sits near a waterfall which I enjoy. The Mudcrabs had returned but none of them made any aggressive displays so I was content to let them be until I got hungry. In the morning I ate a couple of the creatures before embarking on my trip to Ironbind Barrow. Visibility was non-existent in the blizzard which descended at some point during the night. My sight was so impaired that two Snowy Sabre Cats managed to sneak up on me, slicing their claws into my flesh before I even knew they were there.

I paralyzed the beasts and they fell together like a sleeping pair of mates. I used their close proximity to each other to kill them both with only a few casts of my Fireball spell. I dusted the snow off a nearby stump and tended my wounds. My stomach growled and I hunted a few Goats for sustenance. I detest the taste, smell and texture of Goat meat but there is little else to eat in the Northern parts of Eastmarch. I was just glad that I only had one mouth to feed. One mouth that eats Goats, anyway.

I arrived at Ironbind Barrow to find a young Redguard female and an Argonian male discussing whether or not they would enter the ruins. I avoided conversation, still fearful of my voice, and headed inside. They were quick to follow me. Because of their presence, the trip through Ironbind was both boring and uneventful. The Wolf howled and clawed, begging for me to leave the crypt. I assumed it was his normal distaste for the undead and ignored him.

There was only a single book in Ironbind and I already had it in my collection at Lakeview. Suffice it to say there were no sapphires either. When we reached the final chamber I noticed that it contained a Wall. I figured that this was most likely the power spoken of in the note. The Argonian was muttering something about someone named Gathrik. I could not make out his exact words over the Wall's chant.

The Wall in Ironbind read:

Noble Nords remember these words of the hoar father – It is duty of each man to live with courage and honor lest he fade forgotten into the darkness.

The word “fade” was the only one which did not revert after all was said and done. I found I could not call the word to my lips nor could I call anything but the word for “force” in the strange tongue. It seems that killing a Dragon is somehow essential to the process. I wish I could experiment more with this talent but at the moment I have not seen or heard anything of another dragon.

When my vision cleared, another undead priest, which Beem-Ja haled by the name of “Gathrik”, attacked us. Beem-Ja seemed content to watch myself and his Redguard companion toil against the abomination. The priest's spells were strong but he focused more on the Redguard woman, Salma, allowing me to rain flame and sunlight upon him from relative safety. When the undead had finally fallen I knelt beside Salma, ready to heal her wounds, but found that she had already passed.

When I stood and turned, preparing Rites for the Redguard, I saw Beem-Ja creeping up behind me with a dagger in his hand. Seeing him crouched over, obviously preparing to attack me, banished my fear of speaking him to pieces. I asked what he was doing and was disappointed to see that my voice exploded nothing. Beem-Ja did not answer my question but asked me to stay still so that he could include me in a ritual sacrifice. Apparently Beem-Ja was nothing more than a necromancer.

I paralyzed the reptilian blasphemer and stood where his gaze was fixed by the spell. I shifted before him, watching the terror well up in his eyes with great satisfaction. Because of his quest for power and manipulation of death, he had caused an innocent woman to be killed. I wanted him to understand the full consequence of his actions. In Lupine form I began feasting on the man, savoring each salty bite of flesh. The Argonian's muffled cries and pleas provided an adequate ambiance for the meal. By the time the paralysis enchantment wore away, he was already dead.

I howled and left the ruin. I had suspected a trap upon receiving the note but I knew now that I was correct. The note had been nothing more than an attempt to lure me to Ironbind Barrow so that I could be harvested for some necromantic ritual. I would have been furious but I was too glad that Beem-Ja had chosen me instead of some helpless victim.

I made the long and cold trek back to Windstad, ensconced in silence and pensiveness. When I arrived I found that Valdimar was still not there and was glad for it. I will go and speak to the Greybeards as suggested by the Whiterun Elder but I am in no rush. To judge myself Dragonborn based on my ability to exert force with my voice would be folly. I have come across many Draugr who could do the same thing many times better. Are they all Dragnborn as well? I fiercely doubt it.

 

[David Wik]

Day 198—Tirdas 3rd of First Seed
Valdimar was, yet again, not at Windstad during the course of my stay. I spent some time tending to the hatchery which I installed in the icy lake North of my property. I'm concerned that the herd of Horkers which has taken up residence nearby might try and eat them but if that happens, I'll just eat the Horkers I suppose. Still, I'd prefer to be able to study the adaptations the fish have made in order to survive in such a cold climate.

My original plan had been to rest up at Windstad and then head back to Lakeview to check on Blaise and the others but that fell through when I decided to, instead, wander the wilderness of Skyrim hunting and enjoying a slower pace of life. In that vein, I decided to walk from Hjaalmarch to the Rift. Lately, any time I've visited Lakeview, Gralnach has greeted me at the door asking for gold. I had no desire for my already light pockets to be siphoned so I excluded Lakeview from my route.

By the time I made it to the plains of Whiterun, it was already the first of The Wolf's two days. I found a crumbled hut and spent a night there while The Wolf decided to hunt Giants again. The Wolf carved a swath through the Giants of the Whiterun plains and then, during his second day, moved on to those living in the volcanic Flats. I enjoy seeing that The Wolf is back to his old form again. He comes without question when called and has maintained the barrier between us faithfully.

It has been a while since he mauled any villagers or invaded a town or encampment. It's here that I admit I find that somewhat disappointing. A lot of what I do goes unwritten in this journal. I have another notebook in which I catalog my more scientific endeavors. It is where I write my recipes and formulas for alchemy and where my tracing and sketches of architecture and biology reside. The Wolf has been integral in my cataloging of the internal physiology of the other races.

When I am relinquished to the gray plane during one of his forays into Nirn I have the chance to study, with full concentration, the wake of corpses he leaves behind. Sometimes I will ask him to dig around in one of his kills, eager to see a certain part of the anatomy of his victim. When I kill there body is usually intact, whole. It may be burned or frozen but there is no viscera to study and at best I get a look beyond the first few layers of dermis.

The Wolf exposes much more when he kills. He tears open body cavities and removes limbs entirely. This makes for much more informative cross-sections and overlays for my research. Sometimes in the adventure I find here in Skyrim it is easy to forget the reason I have come to this beautiful but corrupting land. I have not come here to lend my talents for healing to the people of this land. I have not come to save the population from apocalypse. I have come to study and learn so that I may impart the knowledge to My Tribe and make us stronger.

In recent days I have begun to think about what I will do when I receive the fateful message that My Elder has passed. I know how it will happen. The Elder will die and he will not be given Rites, not because of my absence but because Elders and Acolytes receive no Rites due to The Wolf within us. It would be insulting to a beast to receive the farewells of man. Spriggans get Rites because they are not mere animals. They are forest Spirits in a physical form, more plant than animal.

Once My Elder is deceased, a Hunter will be dispatched to find me within Skyrim. I can only hope that the Hunter who is sent is the one of which I have many fond childhood memories, but that seems like a juvenile fantasy considering the sheer number of Hunters who live within My Tribe. The Hunters outnumber any other Tribal Profession almost three to one. It makes sense from a functional standpoint. Hunters are responsible for everything from catching game to gathering supplies and building materials. They are far more integral to the well-being of My Tribe than I am.

Still, the Hunter will be sent into the unknown to find me and bring me back to My Tribe. He or she will most likely find me easily, Hunters are brilliant at their craft and I am quite popular in the land. There's not a village in Skyrim in which my name is unknown. This is the truth that gives me confidence to explore and study as I see fit. I don't need to worry about leaving My Tribe without a leader. I will be found when the time comes, I do not doubt that.

Once The Wolf had sated himself on the flesh of Giants, allowing me a better look at their inner functions as a result, I headed into the birch Forests. I find that the Swamp of Hjaalmarch and the birch Forest of the Rift are the best hunting grounds in all Skyrim. On a good day of hunting I can easily catch and devour three or four succulent deer without trouble. The aggressiveness of predators is no different in those areas but I think the Deer have grown accustomed to their patterns and, as such, have grown more adept at evading Spiders and Bears who hunt at close range.

I did not venture into Riften. A lot of the members of the Riften Tribe invoke feelings of rage and tendencies of murder inside of me. I have been doing well, lately. I do not wish to begin compromising my goal of ceasing murder altogether because an Argonian ran up to me whining about her job at the Fishery for the forty-second time. Still, the scream of steam escaping from beneath her scales would be so sweet, but no.

I slept in the Alchemist's shack and began my daily morning hunt without delay. After the Goats of Eastmarch and the Flats, I was ravenous at the thought of a proper meal. After I'd eaten a few Deer and fended off numerous Bear attacks, I decided that I might as well take Temba up on her offer. Temba runs the mill in Ivarstead and had previously asked me for the pelts of ten bears. At the time I did not want to go out hunting Bear for no reason other than a miller's unhappiness.

I have a better reason now. Competition. The Bears are a competing predator and, as such, it is in my best interest to kill them whenever I happen upon one. I knew that with the recent restructuring of the food chain, I would easily find ten Bears in the birch Forest which I could kill. During my hunt for my Ursine competitors, I found a small shack nestled high in mountains. Within the shack I found a man named Froki and his grandson, Hamming.

Froki insulted my faith in My Goddess and my first instinct was to strangle him to death and leave his body to rot in the ramshackle cabin. Instead, I spoke with him and learned of a Sacred Trial that was unheard of by me previously. I was interested in the Rituals devoted to Kynareth in lands beyond my Home Forests so I agreed to show the man I was no impostor. Froki anointed me with various symbols and said that I would have to kill each of Her guardians to prove my respect and devotion to Her.

I have decided that this trial will be undertaken without the aid of carriages, pets or followers so that there can be no doubt that I passed unassisted. Froki said that the three targets were the Wolf, the Skeever and the Mudcrab. Seeing that the Wolf was not far from Lakeview instilled in me a belief that the trial does indeed come from Kynareth herself. Seeing as how the Wolf was closest to Froki's shack, I decided that I would hunt him first.

I arrived at Lakeview and brewed a new kit of potions for my quest. Blaise, who grows ever more curious about my adventures, demanded an explanation of my current objective. I explained my task and he wished me good luck, giving me a Nightshade to aid me on my journey. A poisonous and deadly plant may seem like a strange gift from a child but both Blaise and myself know that parts of the flower are integral to potions which boost the power of Elemental Magic.

The Guardian Wolf died after a single spell which left me disappointed. I had been hoping for a more harrowing battle, one that would truly test my skills. Froki had said that the Guardian Mudcrab would be found near Gjukar's monument, the same place at which I had reunited the long-dead lovers. I was already fairly familiar with that area and assumed the Guardian Mudcrab would appear near the giant fossilized Mudcrab nearby. I slept at my camp near the waterfall in the pine Forest and, in the morning, headed North toward my second destination.

I came across a trio of Thalmor who were more than eager to attack me once I explained that, while I believe Talos as a God is a lie, I also believe that anyone is entitled to worship whoever they see fit. In the ensuing scuffle I freed their prisoner and then shifted before slaughtering the lot of them. It does sadden me that the Imperial Legion has thrown in with such obvious boils on the face of Skyrim but I understand they feel it is a neccessary evil.

The Guardian Mudcrab was exactly where I thought it would be but proved no more challenge than the Guardian Wolf. Disheartened, I continued North. Froki had mentioned that the Guardian Skeever would be found somewhere in the Pale, near Dawnstar. I made the bulk of the journey North in Lupine form which proved to be quite the boon. I was attacked along the road half a dozen times by people who do not understand the beauty of The Wolf. Happily, that included a second trio of Thalmor who were no doubt looking for the first.

I battled the Guardian Skeever as The Wolf and found that Kynareth's third trial offered no more challenge than the first or second. Having completed the trials, I stayed in Dawnstar for a while, conversing with the villagers there. It seems they all suffer from horrible nightmares and because I can certainly understand how they feel I think I may spend time to help them, since I'm nearby anyhow.

I spoke to a priest of Mara who says he knows the cause of the dreams and offered my services to him. He said that an Acolyte of Kynareth, endowed with magical prowess would no doubt come in useful. I headed East to sleep with the Imperial Warriors stationed in the frozen drifts of Northern Skyrim. They are as happy as ever to see me and I am equally glad to see them, for the most part, healthy and well.

In the morning I will return West to Dawnstar and assist this Priest, Erandur, in his noble task to free the people of Dawnstar from the curse under which they have fallen. Once that has been settled, I will return South to Froki and mock him for ever doubting my ability to complete such a simple test.

 

[David Wik]

Day 206—Middas 11th of First Seed
I woke surrounded by allies which boosted my mood considerably. I healed the Warriors of a few minor wounds which they'd incurred since my arrival and left a few healing potions behind. I had been saving them for Kynareth's trial but it turned out to be more simple that I'd anticipated. I arrived in Dawnstar before the sun, as instructed by Erandur. When I asked him about the nature of the nightmares he explained they were being caused by the Daedric Prince Vaermina.

My record with Daedra was not unpleasant. True, my encounter with Mehrunes Dagon was less than desirable but even that had ended with only a single murder. Clavicus Vile and Meridia had been fairly straightforward and honest in their dealings with me. From my understanding at the time, Vaermina was the Daedric Prince of dreams and nightmares. I was a bit upset that Vaermina had seen fit to plague me with nightmares every night since I was Sundered but that is only her nature.

I was suspicious of Erandur when, during the long trek to Vaermina's Nightcaller Temple, he began to avoid questions. I could hear his heart racing though his voice remained mostly neutral. He was hiding something but I was not worried. A single, supposed, priest of Mara would prove no challenge in battle. The walk to Nightcaller was slow and arduous. Erandur could not keep pace with me as we slogged through the thick drifts of snow.

The temple itself was poorly kept and smelled of unwashed bodies and decay. There was almost no light within the walls of Nightcaller so I had to summon my own for Erandur and I to make our way through. Shortly after passing the makeshift shrine he'd erected to Mara, Erandur showed me the source of the curse on Dawnstar. He mentioned that it was a staff called the “Skull of Corruption” which supposedly supplies Vaermina with an endless stream of memories from which she crafts her dreams and nightmares.

We came across a magical barrier which blocked the most direct route to the Skull but Erandur suggested we might try cutting through the Library. I was excited, to say the least. The thought of a Daedric Library, untouched for almost a decade, made my knees weak. It was on our way there that Erandur divulged that he had once been a priest of Vaermina but had abandoned his colleagues, leaving them for dead, before turning to Mara. Weakness.

I knew then why I felt I couldn't trust Erandur. He had abandoned his deity for service of another. Not only that, but his decision had involved willfully leaving his former allies to die against a brigade of Orsimer intruders. The very thought of such an act sickened me. It did not matter that Mara is more dear to me than Vaermina, what mattered was devotion and Erandur had shown himself incapable.

The Library was a disappointment. All but a half-dozen books were burned or otherwise ruined beyond legibility. It was not a total loss, I did manage to find a couple of new volumes I'd never before come across. The weak-willed priest told me that we were looking for a particular book, apparently an account of Vaermina's alchemical recipes. My mind raced at the possibilities contained in such a tome.

Unfortunately, my search was interrupted by the waking of the Orsimer raiding party and the priests of Vaermina. Apparently something called “miasma” had been released into the air when the Orsimer attacked and its effect was to put everyone within the walls into a deep slumber. I briefly considered shifting but decided against it. I could not anticipate how Erandur would react to a Werewolf. I was glad to see that the Orsimer and priests alike were so weak from their extended sleep that it took Erandur only a few spells to kill each while I kept them at bay with paralysis.

I found the tome, The Dreamstride, and spent a few moments enjoying its beautifully designed binding and smelling the musk of knowledge that danced around its pages. I had only a few moments to scan through the book before Erandur approached and declared that I had found it. I was loathe to hand it to such a failure of a priest but I knew that, as a former priest of Vaermina, he would know exactly what he was looking for within the pages.

Erandur told me that we needed to find an alchemical mixture which would bring me into a dream and thus transport me, somehow, past the barrier. I was surprised to see that he handed the book back to me immediately after finishing his quick read of its contents. It was a relief; I was already considering killing him for the volume. I followed Erandur to Nightcaller's Alchemy laboratory.

The lab was far more profitable than the Library had been. I found dozens of materials and ingredients, some of which were completely alien to me. Between the book and the new cuttings and plants, I was satisfied with my gains from the excursion. I needed nothing more to be content with the time and energy spent.

When I'd found the potion for which we were searching, Vaermina's Topor, I was told to drink it. Excited at the prospect of such a unique opportunity, I ingested the entire mixture in a single pull from the elegantly crafted bottle. The feeling of being transported, conscious, into another's dream. For a short time I became a man called “Brother Casimir” and watched as his brethren battled fiercely to protect the artifact of their God, Vaermina. I was touched by their devotion.

I emerged from the dream on the other side of the previously impassable barrier which I deactivated. Erandur was sufficiently awed by the effects of Vaermina's Topor and I could hear the excitement in his voice as he urged me onward, toward the Skull of Corruption. In a room which appeared to be the sleeping quarters I found a set of the dark purple robes which all the Priests of Vaermina were wearing laying on a dresser. I collected them, glad to have a souvenir of my short stint as Brother Casimir.

When we entered the chamber in which the Skull of Corruption was found, two Priests emerged from the shadows. They called Erandur “Brother Casimir” and the question of how I'd traveled into the dreams of a dead man were answered succinctly. Erandur had refused to drink the potion on the grounds that it would not work for a priest of Mara. He'd said that it would work only for priests of Vaermina or those unaffiliated. When I drank the mixture and was transported, I knew that to be a lie. I'm quite affiliated.

It seems the reason for this deception was to avoid Erandur being forced into my dreams which would be less than useful in crossing the barrier. I watched in stunned fascination as Erandur and his former colleagues exchanged words which devolved into blows. I would have been more than happy to let the two Priests slay Erandur for his treachery and then leave the Skull where it lay but I was immediately attacked alongside the priest of liquid loyalties.

I avoided the battle the best I could, staying in a corner shrouded in wards. When Erandur's friends were dead, he climbed the steps up to where the Skull of Corruption stood protected by a magical barrier. As Erandur called upon Mara to allow him access to the Skull, Vaermina spoke in my mind. She told me that Erandur had no intention of destroying the staff and that he would turn on me as soon as the Ritual was complete.

I knew Vaermina was lying to me and I did not fault her for that. She is a Daedra, after all. Still, the thought of a man with such weak convictions having access to such a powerful weapon was unsettling so I shifted to my Lupine form while Erandur's back was turned and ripped his spine from his body mid-prayer. Understand that the priest did not die because of my desire to wield the Skull. He died because that is the price of treachery. One cannot devote themselves to a deity and then change their mind, killing or abandoning their supposed “friends” in the process. It is unspeakable. I was only proud that I had managed to quell my anger long enough to shift, avoiding murder.

I returned to Dawnstar and spoke with a few Warriors who were patrolling the village. From their accounts, the nightmares had stopped. I asked a few more people in town and they all reported that their sleep was undisturbed. In the inn another nightmare had begun, however. A woman named Karita, thinking herself a bard of sorts, was butchering a song about the Dragonborn. I've heard Horker flatulence with more musical integrity.

One of the local Miners suggested that I go see the Elder who I had been avoiding previously. He is a staunch supporter of the rebels in Skyrim and seems to have a powerful hatred of any Imperial sympathizers. The Elder thanked me for my service in removing the curse from his village, though he did not say how he knew me to be responsible. I asked if his villagers needed any more assistance and he suggested I go and kill a particularly brave Giant who had been threatening the village. The Wolf was overjoyed.

On my way out of the Elder's hut, a Dragon attacked the village of Dawnstar, plunging the entire town into panic. The Dragon was clearly ancient. Its golden scales were worn and covered in moss and mold. Gouts of fire spewed from its mouth as it descended upon the village. Every villager present ran to protect their home from the beast, fighting bravely alongside myself and the Warriors. I noticed the Dragon's attention was focused on a group of Khajiit traders who were set up at the outskirts of the village. My fondness for that particular band of merchants stoked my desire for victory and soon the Dragon fell. I shudder to think what might have happened had Dawnstar's Tribe not risen to battle.

As soon as the Dragon was dead it disintegrated in the same manner as the one I'd fought near Whiterun. I was dismayed that I was robbed of yet another chance at studying Dragon biology. Before long I found myself shrouded in the same energy that had erupted from the first Dragon I'd slain. This time was slightly different, however. There was no immediate understanding of a lost word. No new magic sprouted from my voice. I was perplexed.

Three vampires emerged from the drifts beyond Dawnstar as soon as the Dragon was dead. No doubt they had been waiting nearby and figured that the recent Dragon attack would have left the town weakened and easy to overwhelm. They were wrong. I lit up the night sky with my solar magic while the Dawnstar Tribe battled the abominations. In mere seconds, all three of the attackers were dead and I set off back to the Imperial camp to rest. The Wolf wanted to head immediately to the home of the Giant I was to vanquish but I knew I could do nothing without sleep.

The journey to the Giant's lair was uneventful except for the fact that I was blessed with the chance to watch an Ice Wraith and a Frost Troll fight to the death. Fascinating. The Giant itself was no trouble though The Wolf was a mite sore that I did not bother to shift before engaging my target. There was a Mammoth nearby but it did not rush to defend its master. Perhaps I did the great beast a favor by killing the only thing between it and freedom.

I returned to Dawnstar and decided to repay the villagers for their bravery. I helped both mines with their work for an afternoon, toiling in the dark recesses of their caves. It was not long before I began to feel somewhat claustrophobic and so I decided to see if there was anything else to be done within the village. The Dawnstar Smith spoke with me for a while about how his child would grow up without any knowledge of his Redguard heritage.

The Smith asked me if I'd seen a copy of a book called Night Falls on Sentinel. I had a copy of the book at Windstad but I was unsure if I was willing to relinquish it so easily. After some internal debate, I decided that hoarding knowledge without the intention of sharing it was a grievous misuse of the medium. I had already read the book myself and so there was no reason for me to keep it when it could benefit another.

I made the short journey to Windstad to retrieve the book and did not see Valdimar during my time there. Once I had given the book to the Smith, I decided it was time to go and speak with Froki about the insultingly easy trials he had set me upon. I have returned to Windstad to rest for the journey back to Froki's shack. The trip is too long to begin now. It is tempting to simply walk up to Solitude and take a carriage to a village nearer my destination but I promised myself and My Goddess that I would not do such a thing during the trial.

 

[David Wik]

Work has decided that my particular brand of talents would be temporarily better employed overseas. I won't be able to play skyrim for a month or so. Haven't decided If I will continue Likos or start a new character upon my return. Thanks for reading.

 

[makoman8]

Very sad! I've been enjoying every update. Hope things go well for you abroad!

 

[Porchdrinker]

Please continue with this journal when time permits. As I've said before, it's my favorite journal on the forums. Your writing is extraordinary. I will definitely continue reading either way, whether you continue with Likos or start a new character.

I have to say, though, that the bit about the tribe's hunter coming to Skyrim to retrieve Likos seemed like a bit of foreshadowing on the eventual end of this story. If that's the case, please craft an ending. I got hooked on a few other journals that ended abruptly, so I'm hoping for some closure on this character.

 

[David Wik]

Apparently when top floor says a month, they mean a week "just to send out some feelers" and then, if things go well, a month after that. Things didn't go well but that's fine, I'm not the one eating a **** taco because of what went wrong. I apologize for that mini rant. Onward, to relevance.

Regarding this journal: I started up Skyrim yesterday and read through my journals trying to get a sense of where I was with Likos. I realized a couple of things. One: Porchdrinker is astute; I was absolutely planning to ditch Likos and start the Hunter coming to retrieve him. Two: I've played Archers to death and would rather [insert over-the-top, universally unpleasant experience] than do another one. Reading about them is awesome, mind you. I just get bored with the game play itself.

My solution is pretty simple. Likos will continue here and I will begin a second character whose journal I will write in the blog section of this site.

The link will be in my signature eventually. I woke up only a couple of hours ago so I'll probably have an entry for Likos tonight and at least something on the, as of yet, unnamed second character.

Edit: My computer hates the blog section. Everything I type there explodes into a mess of broken formatting.

 

[David Wik]

Day 209—Loredas 14th of First Seed

I made the decision to withhold Night Falls On Sentinel from the Dawnstar Smith and his wife. Part of the reason was that the trip back Northeast seemed insurmountable in the blizzard which had mounted an assault against my comfortably meager in the swamps of Morthal. I searched for Valdimar again before leaving Windstad behind for the warmer climes of the birch Forest but he has not revealed himself. I am forced to consider the very real possibility that he was eaten by something or swallowed whole by the snow itself. To my credit, I did warn him that walking on freshly fallen snow in a heavy suit of armor such as the one he wears could lead only to disaster.

I arrived at Froki's shack around midday at approximately the same time as a Dragon. The creature was much smaller and, probably, younger than the others I've faced before. Its breath could not penetrate my wards as that of the previous animals had and so slaying that particular Dragon was easy enough that I experienced only a mild rush upon victory. As expected, another floe of energy swelled and burst at me, filling me with a dull ache. I cannot exactly describe the feeling but it is most akin to finding a book only to see that it is filled with shadows of letters that are unreadable but still visible enough to elicit hunger for understanding.

Froki and his grandson were oblivious to the battle that raged outside their little, unprotected cabin. If the Dragon had deigned to, it could have easily eradicated the structure and the two lives inside without a second thought. Thinking of Blaise, but not so much of Gralnach, I informed Froki of the events outside and suggested that having a child under his care meant he should probably not live alone in the mountains with no way to protect it. It seems assumptive to say he is incapable of childcare but I have seen Froki's hands. They are worn and stiff, barely able to string a bow. I only hope, for his grandson's sake, that Froki does not die of age before the child has had time to become self-sufficient.

My input went largely unheeded and Froki decided to skirt his own frailty by explaining that what I'd faced was only the beginning of Kynareth's trial. He sat me down in one of the chairs inside his shack and began to work up a mixture in a small dish, completely inappropriate for proper potioncraft. Froki wiped another smear of the foul-smelling sludge over my brow and told me that I was now anointed and ready for the second set of trials.

I was excited that the prey listed during the small, unimpressive ritual was to be far more formidable than a roster of creatures that surely even the boys could handle with their wooden swords. I was less excited that I would be facing a Bear, a Sabrecat and a Mammoth. The Wolf begged and pleaded for the chance to take on the Mammoth himself. Truly, if he could live in a world where lived only Mammoths ridden by Forsworn he would be endlessly contented. Unfortunately, I had to disappoint my dearest friend. As much as he is a part of me, and I of him, I will pass Kynareth's trial on my own two feet and with my own two hands.

On my way down the mountain from Froki's shack I watched a Cave Bear, surrounded by a trio of vampires. I could have taken that as a sign that the machinations of the Dawnguard and myself have brought the vampires to the brink of desperation but it is far more likely that they were on their way to kill me and were intercepted. Of course, the Bear had no trouble whatsoever ripping the vampires to shreds in a display that made me almost jealous.

When I thought I was safe and clear from the melee before me, the wind shifted and brought my scent to the bear. I'm not sure if it was the fact that I was covered in the blood of an Elk I'd fed on only minutes before or if that particular bear was simply unsatisfied by his taste of undead flesh that caused it to take after me with such dedication. Disappointing. The Bear was a perfect specimen of its kind. It was admirably muscled with a healthy coat and clear eyes. It saddens me that such a creature had to be killed but such a virile beast surely managed to mate already. In that respect, its children will carry on its desirable traits and nothing has been lost. Nature's wheel has spun.

The locations of the Guardians were spread diagonally across the wilds of Skyrim. One was near my waterfall camp, the second was on the plains surrounding the village of Whiterun and the third was just Southeast of the College. Logically, I decided to head from West to East in order to ensure that my trip and route were as efficient as possible. I do miss the whinny and chortle of Frost and the clap of his hooves as he carries me swiftly across the land. I also miss the pure, unbridled speed of The Wolf. Compared to those of my friends, my legs are but sticks only barely supporting my mass.

On the path from the Imperial camp, at which I paused only momentarily to offer my services, I came across an Argonian who offered me a sample of his Skooma. I will admit here that I almost killed him. He was unarmed which did not bother me very much as I never bear weapons but murdering a man during Kynareth's trials seemed somehow unsavory, even though none of her laws prohibit me from taking a life if I deem it necessary.

The Wolf is the reason I have shied away from the notion of killing black souled creatures. His hunger has grown astronomically. He is no longer sated after devouring a single heart or stopping a single pulse. As a result, each man I kill is one from which he cannot take a meal and this notion upsets him. I suppose it is much the same as the fact that he does not hunt or kill any of the lesser animals on which I prey.

I paralyzed the Argonian to give myself a chance to transform but then something occurred to me as I watched the black-scaled man lay helpless on the ground at my feet, unarmed and clothed only in near disintegrated rags. I have experimented at length with the properties of Dragonscales. I have used the samples I've been able to snatch before the entire body vanishes in smoke and energy to conduct tests so that, in the future, I may face the foe more readily.

Dragonscales are resistant, but not impervious, to Fire Magic or, on the rare occasion, to Ice Magic instead. I was curious to see if Argonian scales had similar properties but knew I could not handle the body once the man had died. The solution was so obvious that it pains me to admit that it took so long to figure out. As the paralysis spell wore off, I reapplied it and set to work trying to dislodge a few scales from my subject. When they would not come as easily as I'd hoped, I resorted to my second plan which was to simply finish my experiments with the Argonian paralyzed.

After an hour or so of keeping the Argonian constantly immobile while also expending magicka freezing his various extremities or setting them on fire, I was exhausted. Understand that I did not simply leave a half-burned, half-frozen person laying in a field somewhere; I was careful to heal any wounds I caused him as I went along. I gained pages of knowledge regarding the constitution of Argonian scales and found that they are nothing like Dragonscales whatsoever.

I was not yet finished my investigation when I felt the sting of venom on my neck and heard the scurrying of a Frostbite Spider. I watched as the animal crested over a nearby hill and raised its legs to signal aggression. My tests had left my well of magicka completely dry and so I had no choice but to gently roll the paralyzed Argonian closer to the impending Spider, allowing myself to flee while it was distracted by the fresh meal. I thought it a shame for the Argonian to die that way but I was happy with the amount of data I received beforehand and thought him lucky to have given his life for the sustenance of Nature.

I stopped at Orphan Rock on my way through the mountain path leading from the birch Forest to the pine. As I had suspected, a new coven of blasphemous witches had moved into the admittedly prime location. Such heathens are not worthy of the souls they carry and so I have no personal qualms about killing them. Instead, however, I decided to let my friend feast on their blackened hearts. He had not fed and was growing dangerously impatient for food considering how close we were to two villages, each with their own saw mill.

The Wolf sated, I continued on my route and walked along the road by Lakeview while The Wolf whined and barked in the direction of the hut and the children within but I had no desire to stop. During my last few visits, Gralnach's grubby Nordic hand was thrust inappropriately close to my face as he asked for a few spending gold with which to line his pockets. No matter how often I explain that most of the gold I have was found laying abandoned on tables or in chests which had long outlived their owners his requests do not falter.

Faendal tells me consistently that it is unkind to favor one child so obviously over the other but I don't understand what he means by it. When Blaise greets me at the door, he comes with gifts and enthusiasm; I treat him accordingly. I fail to see anyone but Gralnach as unkind in the situation, greeting me instead with demands and, when I refuse to meet them, dejected sighs. Truthfully, I see no favoritism. If Blaise were to ask me for gold, he would receive just as many coins as Gralnach.

Having forgone the opportunity of a visit to my uncomfortably crowded hut, I continued toward the Guardian Bear. Skyrim will never cease to surprise me. As I rounded a bend in a small foot trail, I saw the Argonian running toward me. I recognized him from the unique color of his scales and the iron gloves he wore. Sitting at my camp by the waterfall I have had time to understand how it is that he survived his previous encounter with a Frostbite Spider.

Like most of the predatory animals in Skyrim, Frostbite Spiders hunt based on sound and motion. A moving target entices them as it would any Bear or Sabrecat. In that vein, my paralyzing of the black Argonian probably saved his life. In spite of that truth, the Argonian gave no opportunity for dialogue. He did not want to hear about the scores of sketches and information he'd given me. Skooma, I'm told, rots the mind and is probably what made him so irrational during our second and final encounter.

I called up The Wolf and the Argonian punched at me feebly even as my body slipped away through the divide, swapping itself with my Lupine form. After he was dismembered, allowing me to add a few details to my notes, I found and killed the Ursine Guardian with almost no trouble at all.

I made my way back to my camp and found that one Spriggan had found its way to the large pool below. I was already tired from the day's events so I decided to let her be. She didn't seem to notice me above or she'd found the twisted, ruined bodies of her sisters and decided not to press her luck. Either way, so far we have passed the night in harmony. The Wolf is lucky. Tomorrow is his day and there is no doubt in my mind what he will spend it doing.

The Guardian Mammoth is not far from Whiterun and there are plenty of travelers between here and there on which The Wolf can sustain his transformation to cross the entire distance. I've asked him, humbly, to leave the Mammoth to me but The Wolf does what he wills and I can ask for no guarantee. In my favor is the fact that my beloved friend is nothing if not easily distracted and may not make it that far before divagating to chase Rabbits or harass villagers. Kynareth guide me.

 

[Rown]

this is really an extraordinary read, the amount of detail you are able to incorporate is crazy. I have yet to find true inspiration in writing my own journal, I think I havent found a playstyle or type of person I want to play.

 

[David Wik]

Thanks for the compliment! I feel bad that my entries go on forever but I guess that's my style(?)

I can't really speak on the subject of inspiration but the best thing to do is just to stick a finger in every pie you find and see which you're the most reluctant to pull it out of.

Is that a weird metaphor? Sorry about that.

 

[David Wik]

Day 211—Fredas 16th of First Seed
I awoke on The Wolf's day and began my journey toward where the Guardian Mammoth was said to wander. I had just successfully killed a deer for breakfast when The Wolf decided to jump the divide and sprint across Nirn, desperate to have his chance at the Mammoth himself. I think he was just as eager as I for Kynareth's trial. As he crossed the Plains, he saw a small herd of Mammoths being set upon by a group of bandits.

I have mentioned before how possessive The Wolf is when it comes to, what he sees as, his hunting grounds and prey. He charged forward, ignoring the fact that the bandits were not the usual curs we come across. Their armor was well-made and their weapons were forged from Dwemer metal and honed to edges which paled in comparison only to his claws. The Wolf descended on the group, ripping them apart for daring to poach his favorite meals.

Once the battle between beast and bandit had reached the obvious conclusion, he turned his attention to the Mammoths themselves before they had a chance to feel relief at their salvation. The great creatures were already mortally wounded from their encounter with the hunting party so The Wolf put them out of their misery and ran off into the fields to find another source of amusement.

I could hear his heartbeat quicken when he saw another Mammoth wandering by itself through the grassy fields. It wasn't until he neared that he caught the scent of another predator in the underbrush. Two Sabrecats were trying valiantly to secure a meal from the Mammoth but it would not relinquish its life so easily. The fact that two cats would even attempt such a hunt speaks to the fact that their food supply has been greatly restricted with the introduction of Dragons to the ecosystem.

The Wolf, of course, slaughtered the cats as quickly and mercilessly as he approaches anything else and then finished the Mammoth off shortly afterwards. It is my opinion that he was trying to show off for me. He wanted me to see how capable he was of killing Mammoths in hopes that I might acquiesce to his request to take on the Guardian alone. My mind was not changed but the matter was out of my hands for the time being.

He left piles of viscera everywhere he went as he sped through the Plains, feeding on anything he could get his jaws around. I knew he wanted nothing more than to pass at least one trial himself. It had been a point of contention for our otherwise harmonious duo for days before and neither side was willing to budge. For that reason, I wasn't surprised when he made it to the Guardian spirit and leaped at her without a moment's hesitation.

I admit, it was very entertaining watching the clash of the two titans. The Wolf, who had spent the entire day killing Mammoths as practice easily outmatched his spectral foe. The real test of my friend's abilities and self-asuredness came when a blistering torrent of frost streamed down from the sky. A Dragon hovered above the battlefield, its crystalline blue scales covered in a thick layer of ice. I knew such a beast would be weak to my favored Fire Magic but The Wolf cannot cast spells.

I commanded The Wolf to let me back across the divide, explaining to him that my magic was a far better match for the beast than his claws. The Wolf would not listen to reason and instead roared, shattering any chance that the Dragon might simply pass him by on the way to more substantial meal. In Skyrim, the only animals besides The Wolf capable of reliably hunting and killing a Mammoth are Dragons. As such he feels quite a strong animosity toward them. There is only one place at the top of a food chain and The Wolf has long been perched there, any restructuring is an unwelcome change.

The Dragon unleashed a maelstrom of Frost which swirled across the ground but my friend dashed expertly out of the way. He is far more comfortable in his body than I could ever be. It didn't take long for The Wolf to realize he was at a disadvantage as long as the Dragon was airborne so he sprinted off toward Windhelm, hoping to run the Dragon to ground in the Forest along the way.

While the Dragon circled, The Wolf killed and ate a Frost Troll to bolster his strength and waited for the beast to land. A Spriggan came from the trunk of a nearby tree but The Wolf did not attack her. Instead, the pair of them began a combined assault on the Dragon. The Spriggan sent her swarms high into the air while the Dragon flew and The Wolf would lunge from the relative safety of the thick woods around him, slapping shut the Dragon's maw with his powerful paws whenever it made the mistake of landing.

Every time the Dragon would lift off, The Wolf would retreat back into the Forest and eat whatever he could find that was too slow to evade him. When the Dragon finally fell, I asked The Wolf to forego his usual habit of racing off in search of his next victim. I was curious to see if he had the ability to absorb the souls of Dragons and, as it turns out, he does. An interesting revelation to say the least.

I expected The Wolf to revert somewhere in the frozen Forests around Windhelm but he didn't. He took off East, aiming to take down the Sabrecat on his own as well. He doesn't have luxuries such as a map like I do so I was confident he would get lost in the mountains before ever reaching my sixth trial. To my surprise he did manage to find the Guardian and slay it with a few quick swipes of his paw. It helped that a Wolf was nearby and lent its own fangs to the melee.

Without pausing to revel in his victory, The Wolf sprinted South toward warmer climes. He settled a debate between two wizards of conflicting elements by killing the both of them. I could see from the moon that The Wolf had only hours left of his day but he seemed determined to make the most of it. He ran through the mountains, pouncing on Frostbite Spiders and any other animal that could be considered competition.

It was then that I had an epiphany. The Wolf considers all of Skyrim to be his territory. He has not claimed a small section of the Western pine Forest as I previously assumed. No, the vigor and relentlessness with which he stalked and eliminated any predatory animal from my camp by the waterfall all the way across the breadth of this province has made it clear that all land he sees becomes his own

He avoided Windhelm, for the most part. He was running out of time for whatever goal he had in mind and didn't want to waste it on a few Warriors patrolling the outside of the city. He loosely followed the road South toward Riften, killing two pairs of Vigilants along the way. Even if I have forgiven them for their mandate, he has not. He ran until even I wasn't sure where we were. It's unlike him to revert after intentionally stranding me in some far away location so I was confident he was working beyond my comprehension.

When I felt the transformation fading and myself being pushed forward, out of the gray plane, I realized I had arrived at Froki's shack with minutes to spare until midnight when The Wolf would have been forced back anyway. My heart was swollen with pride at The Wolf's ability as I pushed open the rickety door. Even though he had sabotaged my attempt to complete Kynareth's trial on my own, he managed to prove a point.

When I succeed, he is successful and when he fails, I fall. There is no shame in his help just as a Warrior would not be ashamed to win a battle only by the grace of his weapon. I know now how insulting it was for him when I pushed him aside, as though I was anything else but him.

Froki commended my quick execution of the second set of trials and began to brew his wretched oil for the third and final anointment. He told me that the last trial would entail only a single foe but that it was the most ferocious of all; a Guardian Frost Troll, hidden in a cave beneath the Ritual Stone. There is no chance that I will make that journey tonight. It is too far and though I have done nothing all day, I am too drained.

The Wolf is spent and slumbers now, waiting only for a reason to rise again to the hunt. I've decided to sleep here at the Alchemist's shack before beginning my final trial though I am confident it will go as well as any of the others have.