Archive for June, 2014
—Heartfire, 20Th, 4E 201—
That bastard. I trudge my way across mountains and rivers, through rain and snow, with bears, wolves, dragons, bandits, to a fortress not full of friendly faces but hostile mages, and what do I get? A demonic staff and a one-way trip back to Markarth! The one place I have been trying to avoid! Curse you, demon! Curse you!
—Heartfire, 17Th, 4E 201—
The winds of the north are harsh indeed. My journeys have taken me past the mountain ranges north of Whiterun, where the snows fall and the cold rushes around you. I nearly froze moving from one encampment to another; I must remember to stock up on firewood.
Upon the mountaintop sat a mammoth’s graveyard, bones littering the old broken stone remains. I had little time to ponder how mammoths came to the top of the mountain: a dragon descended on us. This dragon was different from the others: a creature of ice, not fire. I wonder what other surprises the returning dragons have in store for me.
The ruins of the graveyard were not completely empty. One wall remained standing, a wall just like the one in the barrow. My knowledge of the Thu’um has expanded. There may be more out there. Let’s hope they’re not well defended.
I never realized how vast and intricate the work of the old dwarves was: I came across many of their ruins today, and their machines still function. Strangely, many of these metal spiders and footmen carried soul gems, many of them full. Could the dwemer not have disappeared at all, but have been trapped within their own machines? There is one place I may be able to find answers: Markarth.
I travel now to Morvunskar, to meet the person I may have promised to marry in my drunken stupor. He will likely be disappointed.
—Heartfire, 13Th, 4E 201—
Much has happened since last I penned my journey. The guards in Markarth arrested me for nothing more than asking questions. I killed their first group of three, but somehow, the entire city guard learned of it. I could not take them all. I surrendered.
The prison is not pleasant. Those sentenced there are forced to mine for the Silver-Bloods, making them fat. I came across the king of the Forsworn. My only choice was to lend him aid, in order to win my freedom. I did. It gives me no pleasure to do such a thing, but there was no fine ending to this story. I chose the best for myself.
I don’t know whether that ‘king’ survived his rampage on the city. I left when I could. There is little left for me there. Good riddance.
So it is with great puzzlement that my very next encounter was with an Argonian within an Eyrie called ‘Two-Tails’, claiming to be the ‘Dwarven-born’. He believes the flowers to be intricate listening devices of the Dwemer. He’s quite nuts.
On my journey, I have come across many ruins and caves. One was abandoned by its prior occupants, now teeming with bandits and Forsworn. I must visit again, to see if I can gain access to this ‘Pit’ below.
Finally, I have returned to Whiterun. The road has been long, and shall be even longer in the coming days. But for now, I have earned a rest.
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