Fearless Expectations Journal - Zoran

[Mr1cammando]

Hey, no problem. Maybe I shouldn't have compared you to Hrisskar, these are two different character archetypes. Still, I find this variation to be a tad more interesting. When I play, I pick a dagger thief far more often than a heavy armor brute.

 

[Kaleia]

Hey, no problem. Maybe I shouldn't have compared you to Hrisskar, these are two different character archetypes. Still, I find this variation to be a tad more interesting. When I play, I pick a dagger thief far more often than a heavy armor brute.

In all honesty, I find it hard not to go for the 'path of shadows'. I get more of a thrill taking down powerful enemies in one blow than I ever could charging in in full armor. Plus, I like dark (and usually arrogant) characters. From the moment I played my first character, my first Khajiit, and got chased from Riverwood for stealing a sword, and spent more time in jail than actually stealing things, I rarely looked back.

Speaking of jail...I heard Solitude's is interesting.....hm... *shifty eyes at Zoran* The only jails I've ever actually been in are Whiterun's (enough to make up for missing out on the rest) and Riften's.

 

[Kaleia]

Morndas, 6th of Frostfall, 201

Since it was against my better judgement to get lost trying to reach Solitude, I paid the cartman for the ride. Affinity didn't seem to mind trailing behind, and the long ride gives me time to think.

I'm more comfortable in the shadows now. I didn't really notice at first, but they have grown on me, have enveloped me in ways beyond comparison. It isn't just the gold or stealing by any means. It's the power. In the shadows, I feel godlike potential. I feel untouchable, feel mighty, feel...almost confident. And that is good, because I will be godlike.

I feel guided - by what, I don't know. A few months ago I might have said I don't believe in destiny. Though I have forsaken turning towards Azura recently, I feel watched over, by something unfamiliar, and perhaps as unknowable and infinite as a void. I feel voiceless whispers on my ear in the shadows, feel nameless wraiths guiding my steps.

Am I going crazy?

I'm becoming something I don't understand, and it terrifies me every day. Each night I sleep, wondering if the man awakening the next morning will still be me. I am changing faster than I ever thought possible, changing into something more and less than the boy who stumbled into Skyrim almost two months ago.

Am I going crazy? Is that it?

My emotions feel strange as well. I still feel, of course, but in ways different than before. When I realized Laoan was gone, I sobbed. When Ambush died, fire billowed in my heart. When my parents and neighbors overlooked me, I felt the ache of loneliness overwhelm me. When Mercer scowls and barks at me, when guards sneer at my approach, I feel calm...and fire.

It is a cold fire, though, bending and burning through my body, mind, and spirit, a torch of impending reckoning. Not mere vengefulness though - it is something more than that.

Vengeance has room to fade or fail. My emotions leave no such slack.

Any who raise their hand against Affinity will die.

Die.

Any who cause my Guildmates anguish will die.

Die.

That is the emotion I feel, though some would frown at me calling it that.

Murderous.

I dreamt again last night of that cold night in Winterhold. I dreamt and I remembered.

I've killed before, in pettiness.

If I could do that, then who knows what I am capable of in rage? Murderous.

I've killed once. And I can do it again.

....

I'm so very afraid of what I'm becoming. But at the same time, I feel dark destiny guiding me towards shadows that even thieves hesitate to enter.

....

I've napped a few hours, had lunch, and now Solitude is visible up the road. If Affinity or the cartman noticed my troubled mood earlier, neither said anything (not that Affinity can - I'm not that crazy).

But I'm right. I've killed, and so know I can do it.

And knowing that brings confidence like nothing I've ever known. I feel invincible.

For none can stand against one that can take life from the shadows.

When I reach Solitude, I'll get the lizard to talk. Brynjolf's asked me to let him live, so I will. But the lizard will not keep from me the name of the one who dared raise a hand against my Guild.

 

[Mr1cammando]

See, its that kind of post that makes me love diaries.

 

[Kaleia]

Tirdas, 7th of Frostfall, 201

I sleep in Solitude again tonight.

The lizard proved more of an annoyance than I anticipated, but this also worked in my favor. By the time I caught up with him, I was so pissed off that he took one look at me and started begging for mercy. I had to take a dip in the lake when we were done to clean myself of his foul snake breath.

As it turns out, the idiot messing with the Guild is a woman named Karliah, murderer of the former Guild leader. But, before her told me her name, the lizard mentioned she seemed mad at Mercer. If all this is to kill him, surely there is a reason? Only a fool would pit themselves against the Guild for no reason. Something doesn't feel right here, but this Karliah has betrayed the Guild, which is unforgivable. She needs to die.

Though, personally, I wouldn't mind removing Mercer from the picture. His emotions are a thousand miles ahead of him at times, it seems, and that is dangerous in a leader.

Mercer, Karliah, Ulfric...there are a lot of deaths that could be beneficial.

Tomorrow I make way for Whiterun, and the next day for Riften.

The Rift...a place where loyalty begins and ends at the touch of a knife. A fitting name for the Hold.

Being in Solitude feels odd. I saw a Thalmor when approaching the city, and I hear talk of the Imperial army quite often. To think that if had been here a month ago...I would have joined them. The army, not the Thalmor. I may anyway, someday, if only to bring the Ulfric worshippers back from whatever fantasy world they live in.

The Guild is more important right now, though, and it is with the Guild my thoughts will always be. For the good of the Guild, Mercer will someday...have an accident. And a more suitable leader will take his place.

Perhaps even me? Bah....though the thought intrigues.

Tomorrow I ride for Whiterun.

 

[Kaleia]

Middas, 15th of Frostfall, 201

I'm still in Solitude. Well, isn't that a treat? I should have long since been in Riften now, but no, I just had to be exceedingly stupid and headstrong. Why is it that I get beaten senseless every time I show an ounce of backbone? Ambush would be furious at my incompetence, to say nothing of Laoan or my father.

I set out from Solitude the day after I interrogated the lizard. All was fine until I decided to take on three Thalmor partway out of Dragon's Bridge. Thankfully, they decided I was a stupid drunkard and dragged me into Dragon's Bridge, where a guard took me and Affinity off their hands and brought us back to Solitude. That's right. I'm not just set back a week by injuries. I'm in jail for, and I quote, "assaulting innocent passerby". What conceited jerks.

This cell stinks something awful...I hope the guards don't forget I'm here. What idiots.

Wait...is that a breeze....?

...

Well, this sucks.

I got out of my cell, only to land right back in it almost immediately. These guards are sharper than I thought, the bastards. Ah...well. Hopefully Brynjolf will help cover my ass when I finally get out of here. When I finally get back to Riften. If ever................

I suppose I'll just rest now, and dream of the day when my dreams are realized...and cities burn in my name.

 

[Kaleia]

Sundas, 19th of Frostfall, 201

This is ridiculous. But by some stroke of horrendously poor luck, I sit now in the inn of Windhelm, listening to hymns in the name of Ulfric. I daresay they'll declare him the next god-king...damned brainwashed idiots. It's hurting my head just listening to the damn songs. I wonder if anyone would notice if the bard...disappeared? Ha.

How did I get here? Well, as it would go, Affinity and I reached Whiterun yesterday evening with little trouble. Then, today, we fought off a few bears and sabres with relative ease. Then, when fleeing a pack of wolves, I suppose, we took the wrong fork of a road and the next thing we knew, Windhelm appeared as though conjured by some dark magic.

And now Affinity is out there in the blistering cold stables of this damnable city, and I sit listening to hymns that only the drunken could enjoy. But that isn't quite right...four bottles later, I still can't stand the stuff.
The Windhelm wine or the singing.

But all of that pales in comparison to the fact that I'm truly confused for the first time in a while. First time in forever, when it comes to this situation at least. Why?

Because I've been wearing an Amulet of Mara around ever since I bought one off some con man who calls himself a priest in Riften. Now, I didn't actually think anyone would bring it up, so I wore it as a bit of a joke.

And now the sole friend I made last time I was here has declared his feelings for me. That's right - his. Not that that's an issue...but...I...he...what should I do about it? I don't feel the same, but I don't want to hurt the guy. I think...I think I'll worry about it next time I come through. I told him I needed time to think anyway.

And why am I still wearing that stupid amulet?

Tomorrow I'll pay the cartman to take me to Riften. Otherwise I wonder if I'll make it at all.

 

[Kaleia]

Morndas, 27th of Frostfall, 201

I sit once again in Windhelm. Oh...where to even start?

For the record, I did make it back to Riften. It was late when I arrived, though, so I didn't speak to Mercer until the next morning. He definitely seemed irate about my ridiculously late arrival, but didn't actually comment on it. After telling me a little more about the traitor, Karliah, he interpreted the lizard's quote of her parting words about where she was headed. I have a feeling it's a trap, if she'd drop so blatant a hint that Mercer was sure to understand...but that is a little too far-reaching, even for a mastermind.

In any case, Mercer ordered me to meet him as soon as possible at the place she had gone to, a nordic ruin north of Windhelm called Snow Veil Sanctum. I intended to leave within two days of his asking, after some recuperation, but I ended up getting more recovery time than I bargained for...that is, whilst nicking coins from the pockets of passerby, one of them caught me. The Bosmer forgave me, but the guards didn't. They chased me halfway across Riften, and proceeded to have their way with me. (Not like that!)

Thus, rather than days of training and job-running, I spent a week lying around the Guild cistern.

It really, really sucked. The only upside was that Mercer was already gone. Which was also the downside. He'll probably have a fit when I finally catch up to him.

As soon as I felt well enough, I packed some food, traded my dwarven bow for an elven one, jumped on Affinity's back, and me and my love started the long road to Windhelm.

As usual, the morning was calm, save for one wolf just outside of Riften that we quickly felled. Later on in the afternoon, we met M'aiq for the third time. And, aside from a few wolves and a bear, the only other interesting happening came when a guildmate mistook me for a gold-laden traveler. When I corrected his mistake, the lizard apologized, bid me good day, and returned to his hiding place.

As the sun fell, Windhelm came into view, and now I sit listening to their horrible Ulfric hymns again. I've paid for Affinity's care for a few days, as I decided against taking her to the ruin. There's no telling how long I'll be in there.

Tomorrow, I'll head north to find the ruin and Mercer, and after that...after that, a traitor must die.

For the Guild.

 

[Kaleia]

Tirdas, 28th of Frostfall, 201

Has the world gone crazy? I now sit across the fire from the very person I was to kill as a traitor. As it turns out, the traitor was the one I ignorantly turned my back to.

But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

I met Mercer at Snow Veil Sanctum fairly early this morning, and we entered the ruins together. It took us most of the day, but we both managed to survive through the draugr - him with a health-draining blade and me with my bow and atronach. I found a better bow on the body of a draugr inside. Damn it...wasting money on the elven one...oh, well...

Between the two of us, we proceed through at a fairly good pace, though I don't think I'll ever understand how Mercer managed to open those ancient locks so effortlessly. Near the end of the ruin, we encountered a strangely glowing wall. At Mercer's urging, I backed off, and we both left the mysterious magic alone.

Just around the corner from the glowing wall, Mercer let us through another impossibly locked door, and warned me that Karliah was likely close. I readied my bow, crept forward, and...

Suddenly, an arrow embedded itself in my shoulder, and before I could even cry out, a numbness crept over me. I slumped to the floor, unable to stop my descent. I managed to get a nasty scrap on my forehead in the process.

Numb and frozen from action, I watched Mercer proceed forward as Karliah stepped from the shadows, bow loose in her hand. A Dunmer.

Then they began to speak, and at first I wasn't sure what I was hearing. I wanted to be wrong, wanted to be right, wanted to understand what the hell this turnaround was about, but all I could hear was Mercer practically admitting to the crime of the old guildmaster's murder.

Mercer...was the traitor? My mind was racing with the implications that I could barely fathom.

Then, Karliah vanished into thin air, by use of invisibility potion, and Mercer backed away, glancing around before finally sheathing his sword.

Then he turned to me, and I felt very cold, so cold. I knew. He knew I knew. I was as good as dead. Mercer declared a decided disliking for me, and stated that he was glad to be rid of me. With sarcastic promises to give my regards to Brynjolf, he leaned down to slit my throat.

I don't know if I passed out from fear or shock. Or maybe I was so certain of death that I simply let go.

Then, light against my eyelids. I sluggishly opened my eyes, squinting at the light and a figure...leaning over me...Dunmer! Though my body screamed in protest, I scrambled to my feet, feeling for my dagger even as Karliah tried to reassure me. It was then that I noticed the bandages crisscrossing my neck, forehead, and shoulder, as well as a few other cuts I had attained in the ruin. She was...helping me? My mind was slow to process why.

Karliah, in an ever-gentle, soothing voice, brought me up to speed. Mercer was the traitor, not her. The arrow had been intended for Mercer. It had been tipped with poison that prevented my death.

I stared at her in a new light, finally fully recalling what I had witnessed a few hours ago. She reminded me of Brynjolf, in a way - calm, collected, confident, and caring when it mattered. I decided I liked her well enough. And that meant helping her. No. My loyalty to the Guild meant helping her. Mercer was a traitor, and Mercer needed to die.

Karliah gave me a journal that had belonged to the old guildmaster, Gallus, explaining that it might have the evidence we needed, but was written in a language unfamiliar to her. She directed me to one of Gallus' old friends, a mage in Winterhold. I agreed to go. And I will.

Mercer will pay. Oh, many gods, he will pay. He will pay a thousand times over.

I really, for some reason, really want to go complain to Brynjolf about Mercer trying to kill me, but I doubt it would go over well.

Ah, well. Tonight I share Karliah's camp. Tomorrow, I'll head to Winterhold to meet the mage, and probably recover from my injuries for a few days. I wish I could visit Azura's shrine, but since I've turned from her and am short on time, it probably isn't proper.

Tomorrow...and after that, a few long days of sleep and recovery for whatever journeys await.

 

[Kaleia]

Fredas, 31st of Frostfall, 201

More than two months now since I entered Skyrim. Time flies.

I'm back in Windhelm, again, and hopefully for the last time in a while. "All hail to Ulfric, you are the High King, in your great honor..." Blah, blah, blather, and blistering blue blazes. I swear I'll kill that bard one of these days. The Ulfric worship is truly making me nauseous.

Anyway, I spoke to the mage in Winterhold, who happened to be staying in the inn. I talked to him at length about the journal (which turned out to be written in Falmer), the former guildmaster, and the Falmer race. He pointed me to the court mage of Markarth for a translation, and so it is there that my sights are set on.

I stayed at the inn a few days, and made my way back to Windhelm today. Affinity was glad to see me, and I was comforted to be close to her again. It will be nice to be with her on the long road to Whiterun...and then Markarth.

The only event of note on today's trek was an encounter with a deadbeat trying to sell me skooma and other illegal things. I made short work of the fellow, and now have pockets full of substances I'm not sure what to do with. I'll probably sell it all to the caravans first chance I get. I'm not really the type to try stuff that doesn't look like food.

It feels to have gold in my pockets again - that's the only good that came out of Snow Veil. About a week ago, I was utterly broke. Now, I have the security of wealth once more.

An odd thing though. A guard commented to me on my way into town that a child has locked himself into his family's home to do the Black Sacrament. Summoning the Dark Brotherhood. What could a child want of an assassin, I wonder?

Oh well. Tomorrow, it's to Whiterun. Mercer must be brought to justice...and the Guild will thrive under Brynjolf, or maybe even Karliah, though I doubt it.

Or me. Just a thought. Heh...

Dark Brotherhood. They kill. For money? Pleasure? Thrill? I don't know. They've come after me twice, though I don't know who sent them.

Who could a child want to have killed?

The thoughts plague me, but even more troubling are thoughts of Mercer. If he has returned to the Guild, what has he told them? Do they miss me?

Mercer is unworthy of the power he has abused.

I'm going to kill that damnable bard. Tonight.

And tomorrow, it's on to Whiterun.

....

Ah, sweet silence. 'Tis the true music of life.

 

[Mr1cammando]

Dayyy-umn. I love this to hell. I wouldn't try joining the DB though, really hard to roleplay that.

 

[Kaleia]

Turdas, 13th of Sun's Dusk, 201

Long days have passed since I last stood in Winterhold. My legs are shaky, my neck and shoulder wounds sore and blistered with cold, but my task is urgent. I cannot rest yet. Karliah and her mage friend were waiting for me.

So sore...

Where to even begin?

I traveled to Whiterun, and from there to Markarth. The journey was long and treacherous, and there were many times I feared losing the life of either myself or Affinity. And Markarth was something of an adventure itself. The moment I stepped through the gates, a man jumped out and killed a woman in broad daylight. Then, as if that weren't troubling enough, some creep came over to me on my way to the inn and passed me a note asking me to meet him at the Shrine of Talos.

I don't want to begin to imagine what he wanted.

The Markarth court mage proved an annoyance, and I ended up having to get the translation behind his back. Pity, but necessary. Seemed like a fine enough fellow, regardless.

A day and a half after arriving in Markarth, the deed was done, and I found myself falling to a recent hobby. That is, Markarth's inn had an incredibly annoying bard. Had. Naturally, these Markarth folk have eyes everywhere, it seems, and I ended up spending a week mining silver for them instead of more important things.

But I digress.

I traveled to Whiterun with a Khajiit caravan, and from there to Winterhold. The Winterhold mage translated the journal for Karliah and I.

There's another piece of this I haven't written about. Karliah has revealed to me that she, Gallus, and Mercer were Nightingales - the best of the best thieves, as it were, and guardians of the shrine of Nocturnal, patron of thieves.

And the journal revealed that Mercer hadn't just betrayed the Guild - he betrayed Nocturnal. Maybe Delvin has it right about the Guild being cursed.

Karliah surprised me before she left for Riften (we're going there to reveal Mercer or die trying). She gave me a Nightingale blade - Gallus' blade. I've never been one for swords, though I appreciate the gesture, and will treasure the weapon. But I will never use it. Too many bad memories with swords.

Tomorrow, it's off to Riften, and from there...from there, perhaps this mess will finally be resolved.

Nocturnal willing.

And then, I can vie to become leader.

When I become leader, I will lead the Guild to glory in the shadows. For I have plans. Big plans. Plans of might, plans of power.

One day I will lead the Guild. And it will know the greatest era any of Tamriel have ever seen.

For I have plans. Plans of deception, plans of bloodletting.

Murderous.

 

[Kaleia]

(OUT OF CHARACTER)
I'm starting to think it was a bad idea to take this journal in the direction that I did. I'm so familiar with the 'evil' questlines that I fall into them almost automatically...and I know them so well that I probably could write this journal without even playing. Thus, I'm getting frustrated and maybe a bit bored. I'm finding it hard to stay in my character's personality because it's already so close to my usual playstyle, and another side effect has been monotony as I do something I've done a dozen times already.

>.<

I'm not sure what to do. I like Zoran, and I like his personality, and I don't want to disappoint my 'fans', but...grr....I've already fallen short of what BIGWooly did, and by a long shot. He made a person. I made...an inflated version of what I always do.

...

I need time to think.

 

[Kaleia]

(OUT OF CHARACTER)
After a long walk, I have decided that I will terminate this character, and begin anew, with a person, and something fresh in terms of playstyle. Zoran was born of excited whim, and little thought of my future in keeping up with such a fellow.

However, I will do Zoran and his fans the justice of a final journal entry, one aligning with my last and most recent play of the character.

Please don't hate me. But every character I have played has been stealthy evil, and I need a new character perspective. Last journal entry coming up.

 

[Kaleia]

Fredas, 14th of Sun's Dusk, 201

It's so dark here. So cold. The chill reaches my bones, pierces my heart. I've cried out for hours, but no one has answered my cry. No one can hear me here. I heard the call of void, but I never thought it would be a void like this.

Affinity and I started out from Winterhold this morning, taking it slow due to our weariness from the past few days' journey. All seemed fine. Then, out of nowhere, an ice wraith came at us. I jumped down from Affinity's back, stumbling as I did, and conjured my atronach before fleeing after the horse across the snow. I heard an explosion as my atronach was beaten, and so I summoned another. Affinity turned back to fight, though I plead for her to run, and then, as my atronach fell again, another ice wraith appeared. The pair swarmed us, giving me little time to try to summon anything. In a blur of wraiths and snow, I saw yet another, and nearly cried at the misfortune. I managed to summon another atronach, who took down one of the wraiths - but not before the three felled my beautiful Affinity.

I fought on for hours, darting to and fro, not willing to abandon my Affinity's cooling form. I managed to take down another of the wraiths...and then the final one took a slash at my legs, and I slumped next to Affinity.

Minutes passed, and the beast finally lost interest. But I couldn't move. I was rapidly bleeding out - my armor was shredded in places, my head was bared to the cold, and my legs weren't responding...I felt nothing from them. Feel nothing from them.

I don't know how long I spent calling out for someone, anyone, to help me. But I was too far from the road, too far from civilization, and my cries soon grew weak. My throat hurts now, and it's easier to count parts of me I can feel than parts of me I can't.

My hand is getting weaker as I write. Karliah, I beg of you to forgive me. Brynjolf, I beg of you to listen to her.

Where will I go when I die? It's inevitable now. Affinity's body cannot keep me warm, nor my armor, and my own body is growing numb.

I don't want to die. Oh, Azura, Nocturnal, even Talos...whoever would take me, I beg my life of you.

I don't want to die cold and alone. Night is falling, and with it the temperature. I can scarcely see the page to write. Or maybe my vision is blurring.

I don't want to die.

Whoever finds this...find the man Brynjolf in Riften, and give this to him. I only hope it is not to late to save Karliah, and end Mercer's reign of terror.

I don't want to die. My fingers are so cold.

My strength is ebbing away. No, my strength is long gone.

Father, I'm sorry.

Laoan...I'm so sorry.

The pain is unbearable. Do I even have the strength to end it myself?

Father...Laoan...Brynjolf....Karliah...anyone.

Affinity.

Must I die alone?

I'm tired...and it hurts to write.

But I have one last thing to say. A legacy, if you would. The way of shadows is not paved with evil. It is paved with hate.

Which leads to evil, but I digress.

I have killed out of hate.

I wish I had never left home. I wish I had not had the nightmares as a child, for then I could have been a son worthy of my father's name.

I wish so many things.

Spare me the cold...Affinity, my love, tonight I join you in the shadows. No, you were too good for the shadows. Sleep peacefully, my love.

Sleep...I suppose my time has come. I think I still have poison in my pocket...

The way of the shadows is treacherous, and to die in the shadows is to die alone.

///////////////////////

I write this two months after the last entry in this journal, in the late days of Morning Star.

Though the last entry seems to indicate that the writer poisoned himself, I found this journal in the snow beside his horse's corpse with no sign of any human body. Any evidence to indicate his final fate has long since been buried by storms.

 

[Silence]

Aww. Lookin ahead to your new journal, I thought this one was great!

 

[makoman8]

Can't wait to see what you come up with next. With the proliferation of journals, we've all gotten to see a wide variety of character concepts and writing styles. While I always appreciate the effort, time, and thought put into these works, some of them get a bit challenging to read due to the quality of writing. Just know that people (at least myself) were reading, and that both your writing talent and individual flair are much appreciated.

 

[Kaleia]

I've been told to write in this, and I'm not sure what to say. My head hurts, my legs are numb, and I can barely read the page.

I feel thousands of years old. My mind is pale as dust. They say I've awakened before, but I remember nothing of it. There are others around me, some restrained and some weak as I.

Some have been carried out. The Orc next to me says they are 'terminated', whatever that might mean.

My mind hurts, my body aches, and I wish to drift away.

The Orc says I'm close to being terminated, whatever that might mean.

The door is closing. I'm not sure why. I've heard them saying, "One will suffice." My mind is fuzzy.

The ones who aren't restrained are sitting up, looking alert, looking worried. I can't even sit up, as I can't feel my legs.

I don't know my name, and the Orc says my face is a mess.

This morning when I awoke, I heard them say, "It's over."

When she gave me the journal, she mentioned that the year in it was wrong.

I wouldn't know. Time is meaningless to me.

But I feel like I've lost something.

Those that have sat up are now talking over one another, and I can't quite understand their words. Some have gotten up to try the door.

I can't move.

I see it, now. A large bowl in the middle of the room. Dark soul gems, the color of night, waiting, I feel.

Someone else has seen them too.

Boards are being pulled aside above us, and fire glows in the palms of those in the ceiling. For a brief moment, I'm afraid.

Then I'm terrif...

 

[Mr1cammando]

Is this the void?

 

[Kaleia]

Is this the void?

In a manner of speaking, yes. And it is my declaration of intention for my third journal, once M'aditi's ends by conclusion or death.