Initial Works

Keiroth Morrovir:

Fredas: Last Seed 23

I grow weary in life once more. I refuse to deny the existence of the shadows I see everywhere. They're stalking me. Who? I cannot say. I pray at the chapel, sacrifice animals for past sins, ask for anything that may help me to overcome this fear, this apprehension, this dread; to beat these shadows to Oblivion, and just end the haunting once and for all.

Sundas: Last Seed 25

A guard caught a man in an alley nearby me while on my way to the chapel today. He wore all black and bore a black hood. As the guard unloaded at least 15 stolen items from his robe, the thief gave me a stare so fearsome it was painful to gaze upon. The thief was a Nord, but he looked and spoke almost like a Breton. His step was as soft as snow, and his arms hung like he could throw a house. This was a person that any normal man should fear, let alone a retired man such as I. I was scared stiff. He just stared for the longest time, until he turned around, pulled out a dagger, and with one swipe he broke the chain between the irons and ran off. He seemed to disappear into thin air after he jumped onto a roof and into the next street. The guard ran after him, but came back with the most dumbfounded look on his face.

That very night, I packed up and headed out of Bruma for Chorrol. I stopped my journey dead when I heard of a recent brutal murder at a manor in the northern part of the city. I decided the Imperial City was the perfect place for me. I stopped again when I heard about a lockdown in the Waterfront District due to the discovery of a "Thieve's Guild."

I am now outside the gates of the Imperial City at the Wawnet Inn. Tomorrow, I make out for Leyawiin.

Middas: Last Seed 28

I now reside in Leyawiin at the Mage's guild. I brought only a third of my money with me, and I only choose to stay here for a short amount of time. This is the safest place to be, currently. It's safe, secured, and every mage has at least four ears and eyes around the site. I've began conjuring Dremora Caitiffs to watch guard at night. Other than that, no thief could go unnoticed. Or murderer. I doubt a member of the Dark Brotherhood could even get into my bedroom at night. Why, you ask? Each door has a spell on it. It's an incredibly weak spell, but it is very loud. Any mage will hear the door's noise fluctuate when opened even in their sleep.

Turdas: Last Seed 29

I went to speak to the guard today. I spoke to the female officer, the only one available in the office. I told her of my predicament. No matter what city I traveled to, I always saw shadows. She asked if I was crazy, and I told her I wasn't. I said I was the one next toe the thief caught in Bruma who escaped. I then realized what the "shadows" want from me. I bid her adieu, and asked her to keep the watch on a little higher alert for a while. She said she'll do what she can.

http://img373.imageshack.us/img373/8499/templatekl7.jpg

This is merely the outline of it. It is an enchanted, magical, geometric template. With it, one can measure width, length, volume, mass, anything. It was once used to measure from Khuul in Vvardenfell to the White Gold Tower. Only me, a fellow Dunmer, and Arch-Mage traven know how to use it, as well as about its existence. To reproduce it would be revolutionary, nations would be brought together with it. Or, they may war over it. This is the risk that Traven refuses to take. It was created by Traven, the Dunmer and I, but never used again - not for twenty years. The man who volunteered to use it became horribly ill with an unknown disease, so we let him die in order for the world to continue to turn peacefully. I was the only person the other two knew they could trust, so they gave it to me to forget about, have held in a last cupboard in my basement. Never to touch the hand of any other being. And I have it here on my desk.

Fredas: Last Seed 30

I killed an Argonian. It was Dar-Jee from down the lane. I awoke in the middle of the night by a disturbance to see him fumbling through my desk. I got up immediately, grabbed my silver dagger, and slit his throat from behind. I stabbed him until he fell lifeless. I stood and thought for a second, and then grabbed my hood and robe.

I walked out of my home and spoke to a guard, asking him to follow me. I brought him back and showed him the body. I told him Dar-Jee was looking for something that only me and a few other people know about. That its power would cause nations to war, and if he told anyone that this ever happened, then lots of peoples' lives would change considerably. He told me that saying something never happened is always a better option if it can be covered up. He also told me Dar-Jee was a member of the Thieves' Guild. We were both at the same level of understanding, so he helped clean it up and put the body underground in my basement.

I am now staying at an Inn near the Nocturnal Shrine. The keeper seems a cold fellow, but I try to be cheerful around him so as not to incite suspicion. I told him I am on my way to Cheydinhal to meet a friend of mine and live there temporarily. Although, that is the truth. I tried to think of a better plan, rather than a lie, but this seems completely viable. My friend's name is Aldos Othram, a second cousin. Though, growing up, we were friends. He moved to Cyrodiil because it was a much safer place than Morrowind, but never chose to go too far into it. He even wrote a poem about Cliff Racers once.

I will write again tomorrow if something is to come up, though nothing seems notable right now, other than the innkeeper. I'll keep an eye on him.

Loredas

I woke up and put on my travel apparel. I established my pack, and opened the door. Outside was the innkeeper. He stood still as a statue. He didn't blink, or even so much as breathe. He was frozen solid, though he felt warm as a body should. He held a dagger in his right hand. I walked down the lofted hallway and back down to the pub. And there, I saw the most paranormal sight.

An Imperial Guard was trapped in mid air. He was stuck in the animation of falling backwards onto a table. His helmet looked as though it was flying off. His sword and shield were out of hand. Plates of his armor were stuck mid-air around his body. Pewter-wear and plates and bottles all over the place, suspended in the air.

It was then that a figure materialized in a chair at the table to my left. He wore an all-black hood and robe. "Come, sit down," he said to me in a sinister voice. I sat down with him, and he began his speech:

"A am Lucien Lachance of the Dark Brotherhood. Being that you are a man who is hard to find even for the thieves Guild, the Gray Fox has asked me to be a representative for the Guild, given my ability to find anyone. I understand you recently killed a member of the Thieves Guild. Were you aware of this?"

I hesitated, and tried to explain: "I only thought he was a freelance thief, sir. I must admit I had no knowledge of the Thieves Guild until you appeared before me in an environment that not even Traven himself would know what to think of. But you have to understand, I mean no harm to either of the factions I may have infringed upon. He was merely searching near an area where I kept a valuable item."

"A valuable item?" he said. I almost winced. I didn't mean to say that, it was just a stream of consciousness. I laid it upon him:

"Whether you're representing the Dark Brotherhood or the Thieves Guild, I'll have you know that telling anyone of this item will cause much blood to be spilt. If you tell any one member of the Brotherhood or the Guild, then I will unhesitatingly murder anyone who tries to kill me or steal this item. It does not matter how many of them there are, each of them will die by my hand if they even get near this item. And I will tell you now, I am not afraid to go to war with any of you if you choose to attack me. This item will cause nations to war if they find out about it. It's priceless, so fencing it pointless. You have no interest in this item, and I never told you any of this. I know killing you is an impossible task, but if you do kill me, you will be shown a life you will not like to live. Do you understand?"

He sat there, and thought. His face was that of a confused child. At last, he spoke: "I understand. I will inform the Gray Fox of nothing you've just said. I'm sorry to disturb you, and I will tell him that we have settled this peacefully." He then seemed to dematerialize, until he disappeared completely. I heard the guard fall onto the table, and then silence. I was gone before anyone saw me. I traveled to the Shrine of the Nocturne to write, which leads to this point in time, right now. I really don't know where to go. I've started quite a calamity among two guilds, both of which could either ruin my life or kill me. And at this point, I'm sure they could kill me and take the Template. If they found this journal, the world just might end.

I suppose I will go to Cheydinhal. If that causes even more of a ruckus, I shall at my journey at a priory few know of. Even then, I dare say I'm not sure if it will serve as a sanctuary in my predicament.

Sundas

Yes, I have arrived in Cheydinhal and I have met my old friend Aldos Othran. He is a drunkard, and the strict government here has repossessed his home. We now both sit out behind a row of bushes at a fire with two bedrolls. Aldos cried himself to sleep after a conversation of how I've been doing, which transitioned to how he was doing. I really haven't the indecency to go to bed on an old, sordid mattress. I may wake him and spend some money on an inn for the night. My money is tight, though, and I must value it greatly. I just refuse to see my old friend fall beaten to an inept watch, no matter how much money is costs us.

Morndas

Aldos has sobered for the day, and we have decided to travel together. He says he will only miss his friends, whom he said his good-byes to earlier today. We set out for the Imperial, and are now both at the Wawnet inn, again. Tomorrow we set out for Skingrad. I've decided to make the Priory my last resort.

Tirdas

Across the country, to and fro

Engulfed in danger, head to toe

No allies, friends, nor foes in sight

But malice drops its fists to fight

Blindly stumbling here and there

Listening to wind and air

Warnings of the road ahead,

To guide us to a warming bed

Admitting none but how fresh it feels

To travel far and beat your heels

Our frank complaints, underlying

The flowered fields, mortifying

We haven't swords or shields to use,

We caren't for a single bruise

But o'er hills and streams, no more

The place we've all been looking for.

I supposed this summarizes my journey so far. I wrote it out of sheer momentry.

We currently reside at a friendly camp only a few miles from Skingrad. Our journey has been uneventful so far, thankfully. I only hope it doesn't go back to being eventful.

Middas

We made it to Skingrad, and are currently staying at the home of Aldos's friend, Glarthir. He has prepared two guest beds for us, and is glad to help us out in such troubled times. I knew we made a good decision when Glarthir was excited to see Aldos. I think our term here will be a long and peaceful one, that is, if peace enjoys my company.

It is daytime, and I am sitting in front of the gates, overlooking about a mile of vineyards. Such a beautiful sight, it is. I was talking to a worker in the fields who offered me a handful of grapes. They tasted divine. Even then, I feel insecure.

Talking to people at the pub, it turns out there are plenty of job offerings and openings, especially in the wineries and vineyards. They say a worker was hurt while hunting recently, and just quit altogether. I'd feel it wrong to take his job in such a manner, but his was the only one I could do easily: Alchemist. It was really mixing the wine, but they say it's alchemy. More than grapes go into making Tamika's incredible wine.

thinking about it now, I could just work in the fields. The sun and the rain never get to me, and I would be picking the seemingly sacred grapes of Skingrad. I think it would be an incredible job to have.

I also found out that there are lots of campsites and bandits on the road from Skingrad to Kvatch. If one were to attack the vineyards one day, I'd have to be prepared. I'm pretty much always prepared, though, being a master mage. Speaking of which, I joined the Skingrad Mage's guild today, across the street from the trader. There are plenty of associates, but few graduates of the university. I'm a higher level mage than all of them but the headmaster.

Not much else I've gotten myself into today, so I suppose this is the end for now. I will write next time I feel it fit.

Turdas

I finally got a new set of clothes; I have been wearing the same cloaks since Leyawiin. I'm currently wearing a black and burgundy longcoat, fur, with gold-trimmed shoes. I've also a suit of work clothes for the vineyards. As far as sophistication, I'm the same as I was at the beginning of the journey, but I'm always cautious about being too pompous.

I was offered a room at the mages guild, which I accepted until I can move out of Glarthir's house. I feel as though I'm a leech, but he is always enthusiastic to keep us here. He says he's retired, but he's so young, strangely. I do think I'll stay at Glarthir's house, being that I prefer a home over a guild.

I was given a job at the Surilie vineyard, and I'm both picking grapes and brewing wine. I work every other day, and every other work day is a day that I brew rather than pick grapes. I begin tomorrow. I'm just glad that I can bring in some money.

Aldos has a job as a cook at the Two Sisters' Lodge. Even if I'm a master of alchemy, I still am unable to cook as well as Aldos can. He works every day but Sundas, which is when he likes to cook dinner for us.

The home is generally cluttered over with books and documents, but that's what I'm used to. And the only thing he refuses to let me read is his journal. I've been reading many old scripts and novels, but my main interest are accounts, such as battle accounts or reports of a disaster. Ionith has been a great read thus far.

I must say Glarthir is a rather edgy fellow. I'm not sure if it's the loneliness, or if he's just not used to being around people overall. I hear him walk out the front door around midnight. I just wonder what he's doing. I'll alert the guards if something suspicious happens.

That is all for today. I will write next time I feel fit.

Sundas

Has it been so long since my journey began? I feel as though I have run across the world twice. I'm at least glad to know I'm still light on my feet. Hadn't I been, I'd still be in Cheydinhal, thinking I was stuck there. I've been through worse, though. I was in a war once. Our camp was ambushed twice, and after twenty-five days, there were only 100 men left, including me. We traveled to and set up camp at a ruined Ayleid Temple. The place was heavily overgrown, so we used random surprise attacks to scare off the Nords, until we drove them away completely. Fortunately, reinforcements arrived at our old camp when the Nords were driven off, so it ended with us killing every Nord left.

After the war, I settled in the Arcane University here in Cyrodiil. There, I helped make the template, as well as master four kinds of magicka. The template was a mere concept that my friend would doodle about during lectures. When it was finally made, the person who volunteered to test it measured the distance from Khuul in Vvardenfell to the White Gold Tower, as I said before. Upon saying a phrase after measuring, the template will telepathically tell you the measurement. Unfortunately, the volunteer fell terminally ill to an unknown disease. We knew that exposing this disease would mean exposing possible remnants of magicka from the patient, and so we had him euthanized.

Then came the Necromancy conflict, and my departure from the University. I was nomadic for a few months, until I finally decided to settle in Bruma, living off of the University's Graduate Appreciation fund. I was given so much a week, rewarded for helping the University greatly in some way (I had helped uncover and wipe out a group of Necromancers just outside of the Imperial City). It was then that I began writing in my journal, which was where this whole tale began.

I suppose that since I'm telling you all this, I might as well tell of my past.

I was born in the great city of Vivec in Vvardenfell. I was raised to learn alchemy and magic, but I was always interested in sword fighting and battle. Noticing my love for fighting more than intelligence, my father beat me, then stabbed me in the leg. He asked me, "Do you like fighting now? Do you like how it feels?" My love for battle was shattered. I thank the gods each day for that event in my life, and that I didn't grow up to die as a grunt in a foolish war over territory. I began to study heavily and learn of alchemy on my own. When I was 16, I summoned a Dremora Caitiff for the first time. My parents, amazed, admitted me into the Mages' Guild, where I learned and eventually excelled at all kinds of magicka. It was then that my father gave me a sword and taught me how to fight.

when I was only 23 years of age, I was drafted to fight in the war. We were stationed in Northern Solstheim, the place where the great Elven knight was slayed himself by a 12 year old girl. My father wrote to me, saying only that he loved me and that as long as I stay sharp, I can survive those bone-headed Nords. And the last 100 of us did. I was fortunate enough to leave the war with nothing more than a broken wrist and a couple gruesome cuts. Two of my friends died, one of them lost a limb. the one still lives to this day on a wooden leg.

I don't think I'll be writing for a while, possibly a week or so. I try not to let the days pass by too fast, and writing about them does just that.

Loredas

I awoke and got dressed. I always take my time, since the Surilies never care much for late workers. "As long as we get the products." A rather useful incentive, since great wine should always be made with leisure.

I walked downstairs, and saw Glarthir sitting at the dining table. And behind him was Aldos. I gasped and stepped back. Aldos was dead. It was then that I noticed an axe on the floor next to Glarthir in the dim light. I prepared to conjure something to fight with. Glarthir spoke, and I remembered every word his uttered; his tone of voice was mortifying:

"You've been silenced. You can not use magic for seven minutes... But i don't want you to...speak to me with your magic. I want you to tell me something, Keiroth."

He reached down and grabbed his axe. I stood, staring, my mind a rainbow of fear and anger. I was shaking. Glarthir held up his axe as blood dripped from it almost in a constant stream onto the floor. And in a shaken voice, he said to me:

"What is insanity? Do you know? Is it insane to kill someone? Someone you thought was going to kill you? Are people insane because they speak to themselves? Because they have no one else to talk to? Because it allows them to think without fear? Is this existence not a competition? Do the fittest not survive among the weak? Is it the fittest of body, or the fittest of mind? By murdering Aldos, have I not defeated competition? Have I not proved myself to be the fittest of mind? Dear Keiroth, I say to you now in sincerity that I am not insane. I am simply more fit than someone else. I look out for my impending death at all times, unlike poor Aldos."

But the look in his eyes, by the gods, it was madness! Pure and unrelenting madness, like the gait of a rabid troll or the very retina of a cyclone, it was madness!

"So, Keiroth," he continued with a merciless face of ecstasy, "I am going to eliminate my competition. I will show them just how foolish they all are. Just how much they have failed at the game of life. Just how fit they really are."

"GUARDS!" I screamed. Glarthir then burst out the door, and the judgment began. One by one, my friends on the street fell. Limbs off, blood spraying to and fro infinitely. I followed Glarthir, unable to stop him, as I watched my friends die. Splattered in blood, weaponless and silence as Glarthir decapitated guards and screamed a laugh so blood curdling that the very skeleton inside me shook. He was so powerful, so skilled and unstoppable. He chased them down, caught rebounds of the massive axe, massacred these poor people without remorse. At last, Glarthir was grabbed by a mob of guards as he was slashed and stabbed relentlessly. He screamed his laugh and smiled as blood erupted from his mouth. He fell, and the guards stopped to stand over his body. I stood, frozen. Only thinking, as blood dripped off me as though it was raining.

The guards looked around, their eyes wide. One fell to his knees. One found his wife dead. Another walked past me as he counted the bodies. He yelled, "Thirteen innocents dead, four other guards." Almost all of the people I had grown to like and call amiable comrades, struck down in spontaneity by madness.

A guard asked me, "Are you alright?" I thought for a moment, and realized Glarthir had spared me. A strange realization. I replied, "yes." The guard handed me a cloth, and with a disturbed face, said "It would be appreciated if you would stay for questioning or return home. What's your name?"

"Keiroth Morrovir."

"Oh, then if you would please return home, then we will give you time to recuperate."

"I lived with Glarthir."

"And?"

"There's another casualty there."

My mouth was hanging, and I walked, in a zombie-like fashion, back into the house along with the guard. Through the shrouded doorway, I saw the body of Aldos Othran. I knelt beside him in his pooled blood. I began to cry over him, for far too many reasons to begin to name.

War is nothing. I did not cry for war. People are meant to die in war, meant by the gods or by their own fate. The people whose lives were taken today were meant to be peaceful. Wars sacrifice the few so that the many can forever feel this peace. And on this day, one man lost all concept of reality and took all the peace from these people. From both the brave, and the fearful. Why did he let me live? One must hate another to the very marrow of his bones to do something like this.

Wonderland:

Part I

I wandered through the woods,

On a gracious springtime morn.

The sun poured through the canopy,

As the day was slowly born.

At 10, I felt a tad suppressed,

And weight befell my soul.

I came into an opening,

Where I saw a rabbit hole.

I sat upon its rounded edge,

Its size was wide and grand.

But my grip had quickly failed me,

And it's off to Wonderland.

I fell into a forest,

Though it didn't seem the same.

The trees were bright and happy,

And the grass was not to blame.

I hadn't worn my shoes today,

And my dress was ruined well.

Certainly, I will be missed,

I feared, but did not yell.

To explore this newfound universe,

And answer all my words.

I planned out what I was to do,

When footsteps could be heard.

I stood myself and brushed it off,

I tried to look upright.

But my dress was still so ruined,

And a person came in sight.

I saw a snow-white rabbit,

Not a hare, a cottontail.

Had a top hat, cane, and monocle,

He looked sharper than a nail.

"Good heavens!", he announced to me.

"Are you hurt, did you come today?"

I did not know how to react,

So words I did not say.

"Regardless of your circumstance,"

This rabbit said to me.

"Your clothes are ruined, you look so hurt,

From the other world, I see."

"I'm Mary", I said finally.

It was all that I could speak.

The rabbit stared in silence,

His eyes were bright and bleak.

"Mary," his whiskers shook at me

His cane was twirled in hand.

He picked it up and spoke to me,

"Welcome, to Wonderland."

His name was Mr. Richards,

And we walked across the woods.

Past the hills that liked to whistle,

Through the "shouldn't"s, "would"s and "could"s.

The valley stood alone,

Not a mountain by its side.

The oranges were blue,

And the oceans weren't so wide.

We came into another wood,

And walked for hours again.

A hill appeared which wasn't steep,

"Watch this," said my friend.

He walked onto a random spot,

He threw his cane in the air.

And then I saw a hole,

Which I didn't know was there.

"A portal in the sky", he said.

"Which opens in my home.

I throw it up, it makes a noise,

And awakes my friend, the gnome."

In the hole was quite a stunted man,

He wore a suit and tie.

The man looked at my dress and said,

"Look at you, oh my!"

"We must bathe her, giver her brand new clothes!"

The rabbit said to gnome.

"But we soon must see a tea party!",

Said the small man in the home.

"Gracious!", said the rabbit, shocked.

"You're right, we must make haste!"

"We're sorry", said the dwarf,

"But we haven't time to waste."

~

We could not lose a minute,

And walked not casually.

I lacked behind the Rabbit,

As he hopped so gallantly.

The forest soon had ended,

O'er a bridge, there was a lake -

It was guarded by the bright-green hills,

As it shimmered without wake.

The bridge was made of solid oak,

Well made, so smooth, and grand.

The the ending topped the forward hill,

And we looked upon the land.

For miles, I saw hills and houses,

So large, so bright they lay.

I almost felt tears come to me,

But our journey took its way.

We strolled among the rising hills,

We ventured without rest.

The shadows crept across the ground,

As the clouds were moving West.

We came upon a gracious slope,

Ascending it so slow.

At the top, my eyes near failed me,

Before a garden and chateau.

Azaleas climbed for 20 feet,

The maples, Japanese.

Tulips, dogwoods, roses too -

And the violets blue as seas.

Centered was a table,

With tea and toffee cake.

A Walrus stood and greeted us,

"You're here, for Heaven's sake!"

We drank our tea and ate our sweets,

We smelled the garden all.

We looked out at the silver lake,

And the flowers were our walls.

The Rabbit, Gnome, the Walrus,

And the crazy man wore hats.

The Robin knew the Ferret,

And the smiling Cheshire Cat.

The Hamster knew the Guinea Pig,

The Tiger loved the Fox.

The Dormouse had known everyone,

And the Hatter loved his socks.

The occasion simply wavered me,

So happy, I still am now.

We would talk about the weather,

But that's all our mind's allowed.

The sky grew orange, red and blue,

Yellow, pink and green.

I was staying at the chateau,

With the greatest sight I've seen.

The stars were bright and silent,

They guarded me, awake.

The moon's brushing his teeth,

As he looked into the lake.

Night was dark and perfect,

And my eyes were hanging deep.

The room was dim and quiet,

And at 10, I fell asleep.

I woke within a jacket,

Which hugged around me tight.

I sat against the corner,

In a dull and shrouding light.

My body felt so humble,

Graciously, like leaves do fall.

Guarded by a savior,

Within white and padded walls.

A nurse came in the room,

Like a kitten through the door.

So beautiful she was to me,

I could only love her more.

She reached into her pocket,

Took a capsule in her hand.

She placed the pill inside my mouth,

And it's off,

To,

Wonderland.

The Act:

"An act?" I inquired, though nothing entailed.

"An act!" he exclaimed, as he brutely exhaled.

"What sort of an act?" I inquired some more.

"A terrible act that we all hunger for."

I tried not to laugh, but his face was like rock.

And then at the door came a harrowing knock.

"Have at you!" said a man, in glory and grace.

"Raise up your hands and show us your face!"

He smiled, he did, but it chilled up my spine.

"Have you ever felt something that's felt but divine?"

The door blasted open, and the copper rushed in.

"Just come with me, Smith, confess all your sins!"

He raised up the hatchet, the psychopath did,

And hammered the blade right over his lid.

He ripped out and chopped all over the place,

Till a hillock of blood was the poor copper's face.

Smith turned around and was slathered in red,

"Towel?" I asked, while grabbing my head.

He started to laugh with a terrible girth,

And he picked up the shotgun beside of the hearth.

"Brother!" he screamed, "Do not worry of such!

Let the cleansing begin with this shotgun I clutch!"

He stormed out the door, and a cleansing begun.

The screams were all silenced by his splurging of fun.

"Fools!" he exclaimed. "Will you run from a judge?

Won't you hither the jury and carry their grudge?"

Such madness I heard drove my mind to a rush,

And I thought of my life, and my purity lush.

But I never did viddie a heretic's blood,

Nor the corpse of a cop left to rot in the mud.

Till the night that my brother did show me a light,

One vivid with callous and envious might.

I tread on the ground soaked in blood of a saint,

His white robe now red in a patternless taint.

"O brother!" he said with an ominous grin,

"This is not a lawbreak, this is not a sin!

Take my pistol, o brother, and an axe in your hand!

Let us go out tonight and level the land!"

I walked back inside, and mulled over much,

But realized my purity was only a crutch.

I realized it all and burst out the door,

And I fed it, the thing we all hunger for.

   >The Beetle:

   >

   >I was laying oblong, on my newly cut lawn,

When a beetle did land on my head.

I ravaged my skull, till my hair was all dull,

And the beetle was obviously dead.

I sat up and thought of what I had just fought,

As a scout beetle stood there and gazed.

I looked 'round and locked with the beetle so shocked,

As he stared with his head in amaze.

And then he did rush, with a lightning-speed mush,

Toward the garden wall, recently laid.

I sat there and waited, my thoughts dilated,

And the beetle came back with an aid.

The ground did a'rumble, and the stone wall did crumble,

And an army advanced toward my seat.

My courage was tested, as I sat there and rested,

"To glory!" the colonel did bleat.

They chopped down my roses, and turned all their noses

To the sight of me gaining my stance.

As I walked over slowly, they traveled so lowly,

And the colonel said harshly, "Let's dance!"

They began to bombard, as they played their best card,

So I carelessly walked to my shed.

I picked up the Raid, and above them I sprayed,

To warn them, not leave any dead.

"Retreat!" they all screamed, in a panic it seemed,

And their lightning war ended abrupt.

I walked to one slain, taking note of his pain,

And held him in hands gently cupped.

Though he seemed quite alright, and then he took flight,

As he quickly and hellishly ran.

I sat there in peace, my spirit at lease,

Where this often occurrence began.

   >

   >Qjorva Albata:

   >

   >These are the autodocumentations of a Nord man named Qjorva Albata. He was both member and ender of the Dark Brotherhood of Cheydinhal, as well as a nobleman through unknown criminal acts and sociopathy. Hardened from war, he was deemed a champion and such reputed him as a worthy soul, although liar to his peers all. His body count reaches around 300 in his mortal life, and some say his soul went on to become some sort of god, communicating his sense of madness throughout Tamriel in acts of violence and abstractness in common times. Some call him the Wintersun, as his actions were generally symbolized by a ball of fire breaking through an endless ocean of ice. Few dare to say he was at terms with the legendary Keiroth Morrivir, as he was seemingly influenced by some sort of unspoken comrade of equal nobility, the signs of which all point to the personality of K. Morrovir. Although, some have debunked this using evidence of how Qjorva may have lived before the birth of Keiroth. This has been debunked even more by how they fought in the same war against each other. Regardless, Qjorva lived on to be a fearless man who could lie his way out of Oblivion and still come out on top of the world. He was a lyricist, a noble, and a deity among Tamriel. This is his story.

   >

   >I.i

   >Sundas

On Middas, I received a letter from the Countess of Bruma's secretary, inviting me to a supper party in her manor tomorrow, Morndas. I replied, in acceptance, although I've not much in the way of nice clothing to wear. I've my black and burgundy coat, although that's quite a commoner's clothing. I'm also intrigued why she would invite me, of all people, among other nobles who reside in Bruma. I've only just moved into the city as well, but I suppose she must like my poetry. It is outputted in the Black Horse Courier after all. And this being my first journal entry, I suppose I should inform that that is, in fact, my job. Daily, I must write one poem, which I will deliver to the Courier by paid messenger. I suppose my nationwide fame has labeled me as nobility.

I've also spoken with another nobleman, a lawyer. His name is Icory Sevan, a Dunmer, and he is famed to be very cunning and intelligent. He is a veteran at the Second War of Solstheim, as I am, and from this era are springing many intellectuals, and it is only more and more intriguing to hear of more and more veterans. Although, I fought against his army. He is supposedly the greatest lawyer in Cyrodiil as well, and is often being called to all parts of the country for lawful assistance, being paid handsomely for his work, whether the case is won or lost. Although, he has only lost three cases, the first three he ever fought, and so no one doubts his expertise.

Morndas

The party was very delightful. There was a rather large group of people there, and I found it hard to keep up with all conversations around me, people asking about my line of work, and so I would often just turn back to the countess, who had stationed my seat next to hers herself. She is in love with me, I'm rather sure. She stared at me most of the time, and her social might would significantly decrease to a varying sort of shyness when she spoke to me or I spoke to her. She complimented me graciously on my poetry, and said she stored every Courier issue of my poetry in her safe. One would think this is a sign that she may, at least, like me. Although if such was the case, such a mild feeling, then she may be deemed insane. So it is only reasonable to think that she does, in fact, feel love for me.

Although I'm sure she has many suitors, one of which is Icory Sevan. I do not fear him, though. I never shall. Those who kill another out of failure never gained a thing in their life, and besides, I was chosen to be at her side at all times during the event before she even saw my face. She told me all the nobles I saw there had been at every supper party before this. I felt a jolt pulse through my heart at that moment, the implications she inferred, the thoughts she wished me to think, the message she knew I would get and was testing me, whether I was thick or fluent with her thoughts. I passed this test, and I gave her a smile. She exchanged, and then handed me a note. She asked me to meet her in two days for lunch, at one o'clock precisely, in the afternoon.

Middas

Again, our meeting was delightful. Moreso, in fact, rather enlightening. As was our last meeting, and so I believe there is a contingency in our pathcrossings, not to be disturbed anytime soon. But I have never loved anyone, nor has anyone ever been in love with me. I believe this is the first time of both records, and I must admit, the feeling is rather isolating, and I find myself floating rather freely among the citizens of the City of Snow, Bruma, offending without consideration and letting them know how I might feel at the moment.

I have also received a letter from Icory. He said that he did, in fact, stand as a suitor, although "I know she is in love with you. I come in second, I'm sure, but I will not try to impose upon you or her, and if my study of justice has taught me anything, it's that there must only be a balance, and this balance must not be upset." Rather powerful words, I must admit, but I am not faltered by them. He will not let me have the girl. If I reply, "Thank you, Icory. Such valiance and admittance is very brave, and I must commend you on your righteousness," then it will not be over. I'm sure, he will defeat me. He will have this woman, a Countess not to mention, and nothing will stop him. Or so he believes. He is testing me, discreetly, as the countess did to me at the dinner. If I reply, "I must admit, you are brave, Mr. Sevan. Not me, nor any man could admit defeat for the sake of righteousness, and especially not me. You may have her, and I will step down, informing her of this letter," then he will let it go, and she shall be his. So what shall it be, my life, or her? I laugh, I do. I laugh at such a contest. I will show him how far his merciless cunning can go before he loses his head. I shall burn the letter, and say I never received, should anyone ask, including him. I must stall him for now.

Morndas

I have not written for months. I have been busy, you see. I have spent much time with the countess, living with her, and I have not even seen my journal in the months I have not written, such being the reason for it. We are heading to the Imperial City, as a sort of vacation from the bitterness of Bruma. She says she is also quite tired of the homeliness and primitiveness of all the architecture, as beautiful as it is in her eyes, and wishes to see something of more magnificence. One cannot blame such a statement. But, she believes our stay in the Imperial City will be one of simplicity and peace. There, in the Arboretum, I will propose to her. I believe she will accept, without a doubt in my mind, and so we shall be partners forever.

Loredas

The third day of our marriage, and the dusk of the week. I awoke early in the morning on the sofa, afore the magnificent windows of our home on the beach of the Gold Coast. She wore her robes, naked besides, looking out and holding a cup of tea, most likely waiting for me to awake and make love again. I crept up to her and placed my hands around her, holding her and breathing in her beautiful hair. And when she turned around to kiss me, I said "I love you," and I jammed the dagger into her chest.

She felt it, and gods above, her distilled shock and fear filled her like fire, and a face so sad and shaken came about her, and my heart pounded so that I had to kiss her once more, as she fell to the floor. Blood covered her, and me as well, and in the few seconds during which she sunk to the base of the house, tears flowed, and she realized that everything she ever knew was a lie. That a man could tell her she loved her and then kill her, savor the moment of her death in such elegance and beauty. The drama of it, oh god, it incited an orgasm in me so chilling, so shockwaving that I had no choise but to moan passionately as I kissed her, felt her, and watched her die as she breathed her last breath, betrayed by the universe, and for me she cried. I assured her that I will always love her, I let her know my feelings. And then, she was dead.

I held her for a while, and allowed the moment to filter itself into reality. And as my concept of life regained, I basked in my success of the greatest psychotic pleasure any man could endure. I took the knife from her chest, walked to the shore, and threw it out into the sea as far as I could possibly throw. The blade was lead, which not only ensured her death of lead poisoning, but it also ensured that the blade would not wash back up onto shore. I then thrashed about where I stood in the sand, until I made quite an imprint in the ground. I knew it would wash away, but the point was to ruin my robes. I then went back to my deceased love, and kissed her so lovingly on the mouth, and knew that in the heavens, she would marvel at what I had done, and such a feeling would linger about within me forever. She will forever, powerlessly know that I gave her the greatest love there ever was, and then fulfilled the finest desire there is. And yes, reader, discoverer of my journal, I do love her still, and I always shall.

I returned to Bruma. I lied to the Guard, and gave a false story. I said I awoke to the sound of her dying, and saw a male Dunmer with a knife in her chest. As I got up, he ran off, and by the time I reached the door, he was nowhere in sight. I held her for hours, then thrashed about the beach so that nothing about her may be upset in the home. I was then deemed the new Count of Bruma, out of inheritance, as the Countess had no family at all.

I reveled for one day in my secrecy, until that fateful day came. The guards brought to me Icory Sevan, after he was arrested when he returned later that day, under suspicion of murder, his arrival back being strangely timed after mine. I acted for them, and knew he was powerless. He had no concept of what was going on. He told the guards the truth, and probably tried to bribe and lie his way out. A nobleman reduced to a peasant criminal. I feigned deep hatred about my face, and said "Execute this man." A face of horror and anguish befell him. He knew he was powerless. And as I went to take another sip of the wine on my desk, I gave him a grin. His souls was rendered pale.

I have fallen in deep love. I have fulfilled my homicidal sexual desires. I had defeated my rival. I have become a count. And they will write my name in history as a saint.

IV.i

Purification of the Dark Brotherhood

Upon her desk, I placed a poison apple. As I returned to her room, I witnessed her taking it - and I experienced a feeling of silence. Nay was it physical; I felt how far I had gone; I felt my hands were corrupt, able to do things one never should. My palms felt black. And I watched her die. She sat at her desk, eating the fruit as her natural reactions showed themselves, and her elegance, sophistication, success, and abilities vanished in less than five seconds as her body turned to an upright ragdoll in shrouded armor.

In the lower level was the corpse of Vicente. A smear of blood stained his stone bed, and he lay helpless as I had stolen his sword of fracture. "Why?", I asked. "Why has this never been done? These people, they are not insane, nor dark, they are mislead. Psychotics, they would kill any soul they felt fit; they did not refrain from murdering those whom they are told to refrain from murdering. They are fools if they do not!" And I could not continue as my wits slowly gathered. And as Rufio's soul tormented the vile and foolish bodies of the living Brothers and Sisters, between the blood and beatings, I realized: "I am a psychopath. I have murdered my brother, I have murdered my sister; I have laid waste to my own family."

Family? Hah! ~ To call them family, these strangers.

The Fall of the Draconis Family

I was to murder the entire family, Draconis.

Mother: Perennia

Sons: Matthias and Andreas

Daughters: Sibylla and Caelia

Perennia worked a very small farm, harvesting no more than potatoes and possibly a few other vegetables, no animals in sight, and her home was nestled on the border of a snow-laden circle of foothills. I found her home around midnight after a strenuous journey. In the hills I camped below a magnificent tree, and waited until the day to approach. In the morning, I wore my black and burgundy "Deceiver's Finery" coat, along with my gauntlets and boots. And of course, I wore my Dwarven helmet, which encompassed the entire head, and claimed that I was disfigured from battle. I merely wished to hide my identity. I kept my Blade of Evisceration hidden beneath my coat, so as to murder my victims as easily as possible. One strike, and the force is enough to dash them three meters. One stab, and the energy is excreted distributively, pumping through their veins, so that they die immediately and silently.

I approached her home, and saw through the window that she was not home. As I circled the premises, I found her in the garden with a hoe, around the potato plants. I approached, not noticing that my footsteps were silent, and when I spoke, she jumped back and aimed the tool at me. I put my hand on my Blade of Evisceration, the very jagged edges of the dagger enough to rip out an organ, though she quickly lowered it and put her hand on her chest. "Forgive me!" she said. She continued, "I have been behaving so fearsomely, in that living alone is a rather mind-numbing thing. Might I ask why you are here?" I realized my hand remained in my coat, and my mind raced. I expected to be harvested to death by this odd woman, but I played it off after quick thinking. "I need to know where your children reside," I said calmly.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "You must be the delivery man! I knew they would be coming sometime soon. I've prepared a list of where my children live, and what to get them. Please look and see if you can get these to them." She handed me a note, and I looked at the names. Their locations were written in great detail. It said what gift I should get for each person, and what they are like. My plans were seemingly without impediment now. Things were going more than according to my plans, in fact. She asked me about the helmet, and I gave her the common explanation. She smiled, and said many thanks for my services after paying me handsomely. As she turned around, I used my silent footsteps to an advantage I thought would never come.

This woman was so generous, so gracious and kind. To imagine her blood drenching her quilted dress and garden, to see her body rot among the other plants, and to imagine this land - such a land cared for so tenderly by this gracious woman - die slowly as she lay there helpless. As I walked from her back, I made loud footsteps until I knew she thought I was gone over the loud tending of the garden. Quietly, I unsheathed my dagger, crept to her, grabbed her skull, pulled back with a force unknown to most men, and jammed the blade directly into her throat. It was caught in her spinal cord, and so I calmly yanked and pulled until I dislodged it, and her body lumped to the soft ground like a ragdoll. Just like all the others. As I exited the garden again, I passed a grape vine. I ripped from it a cluster, and brought it along with me as I began my journey to the Imperial City.

I entered the front gates after battling endless hordes of mudcrabs and harvesting enough meat from them to last me days. I walked through the Talos Plaza district and made my way to Umbacano Manor, where the first son, Matthias, held a job and a home as a guard. It would be hard to infiltrate, unless my skills at speechcraft do not fail me. I entered, and was greeted by a butler. He said he had served Umbacanofor years, and I said that I was here to see Matthias, as his mother sent a delivery boy to give him a gift. I was escorted by another guard to the guard quarters. This was going to be hard, but I could deal with it. We went into the basement, and my luck returned to me. The only few present was me, the escort guard, and Matthias. I began to greet Matthias as I slowly walked around, until the guard was behind me, Matthias before me. Both were in chainmail. One flaw of Chainmail is that it is hardly retardant to stabs. I pulled out my blade and thrust it into the guard behind me as I kicked Matthias in the chest. He pushed my foot off and drew his sword. He knew not my skills with a blade. I locked his sword in the hilt of my dagger as he slashed, and bashed his wrist against the wall with my other hand. The metallic shirt paired with the crushing force of my Nord palm caused him almost to let out a scream. As he was disarmed, I quickly grabbed his sword with my bashing hand to prevent it making any noise, and shoved the Evisceration Blade into his throat, just as had happened to his own mother. He fell, and I quickly made my way out.

The Butler caught me again and asked where the guard who escorted me was. I said the guard decided to stay down in the quarters where Matthias ate the chocolates I delivered to him. The butler laughed it off. Just as planned.

~

Andreas. He was easy, in fact, amusing. He owned a tavern in a rather peculiar location: northwest of Leyawin. So dangerous were those lands, and so remote. I hope he wished to please the bandits traveling the occasionally bloody trails. I entered his pub, a very quaint area, and found the room to consist of me, Andreas, and an Imperial Guard. Perfect.

I approached the pub counter and said "Hello," to which he replied "Hello, what can I do y'for?" He was a rather neutral man, didn't smile nor frown, and so I thought this was to be a rather unsatisfactory murder. At least I'd get a good show, just wait. I looked back at the guard and saw that he was looking in the opposite direction, at the fireplace. I returned my look to the bleak man and motioned him towards me. We got our faces close, and I whispered, "I am here to kill you."

He leaned back and acquired a very disturbed look. I saw that he had no more than a dagger. His face bore a hole in my skull as it hardened and he said to me, "I don't know what you want with me. But I won't let this happen, I know that." He stood back, and the unsheathing of his dagger was loud enough to be heard by the guard. I yelled, "Ho, what?" as the guard unsheathed his own silver blade. The tavern owner slashed at me, but I dodged and yelled, "Stop!" The Imperial Guard engaged in battle with the tavern owner, until the guard simply kicked him to the ground and stabbed him so violently. I sat on the opposite wall and made a whimpering sound, my helmet allowing it to resonate. The guard turned around and asked me, "Are you all right?"

"Yes," I replied. "I am an undercover agent from the Arcane University, and we suspected him of possessing Skooma, which he sold to a gang of Necromancers. We expected to possibly arrest him and ask him questions of the whereabouts of this gang, but it appears the vile drug has gotten to his head."

"I see," said the guard. "I do apologize, honestly. But it is my job to protect. Are there agents other agents here?"

"Yes, outside," I replied.

"Well, I should talk to them myself. I must confirm your story. For all I know, you're just another skooma mule like that tavern owner."

As we walked out the door, I pulled off his helmet from behind and shoved the Evisceration deep into his skull. He died instantly, but I felt the vibrations of his blood pumping through the dagger's hilt. I ripped it out as his body fell to the floor, and blood did spurt out like a splash of water. I cleaned my blade, and sheathed it. I then took his sword, waved it around, and took his sheath as well. I love these swords.

~

I apologize, but these pages were lost. Whomever ripped them from this book was either a drunk me or someone who wants revenge on me. I'll have to keep my alertness level up.

~

[i]I.ii[/u]

The Blood of Another

Heed my next words, and many things will be clear in the future. I am a very brave man. Scamps? I laugh at them. Bodies strewn about Oblivion, no more than show. The Greymarch? I merely flinched. But there is one thing that brutally irks me: Vampires. Being in the presence of them makes me cringe, I say - even the slaying of Vicente Valerti nearly sent me into shock once his blood sprayed about the wall. I feared a smidgen would leap onto myself, and I would banish the armor from my body as I would live the rest of my days beneath ground. Yes, I fear catching Vampirism. Sleep would not exist for as long as I have it, until I find a cure. I fear this so heartily. Even if the smallest of foes held the sickness, I would run at the sight of it for my life.

I visited my neighbor's house in Skingrad, next to Rosethorn Hall. She was a beautiful woman. A Dunmer, owned an alchemy shop to buildings over. I stayed for tea for a couple of hours, and we conversed about the most insane things (commonly a good beginning to my relationships). Her smile was nearly infinite, her face so smooth, and her voice rang like the song of a divine flute, telling me a tale of woe and relief. How she captivated me; and she was such an upright girl. Her parents must be so proud of this fine young lass. I began to feel warm later on in the gathering, and I knew this was a sign that I might begin to speak as though we would soon become connected in a more sensual manner. At that moment, she asked me: "Do you hunt vampires?" I nearly spat the tea from my mouth; the mere sound of the word "Vampire" sent my throat sprawling. She continued, "You seem to be such a strong warrior." I felt she implied a lot more than she spoke. I knew she incorporated my success in Cyrodiil and my nearly unmatched strength and skill with a blade. I replied, "No, I don't." Before I could continue, she told me of a cave. It was home to a gang of vampires, and she told me the count of Skingrad would pay a handsome amount of money to anyone who would clear it out.

I was short on money, I regret to say. I spent a lot on furniture for my home, as well as on getting items repaired and buying new weapons. I was not to be thwarted by such a menace in the procuring of straight money, especially not against a horde of people as normal as I, yet stricken by a disease. I did not stop myself, yet tried my best to prepare. I traveled to the Imperial City and trained with fighters, using wooden swords and shields. I made multiple trainers cry as I disarmed them and nearly beat them unconscious in a blinding rage. I realized, I cannot afford to lose it over a small matter like this. I concluded that the Surilie Brother's Wine was getting to my head. Best drink in Cyrodiil, Tamika can suck my dick. Which I would gladly invite her to do.At last, I conjured up the appropriate armor and weapons (Golden Saint Armor, Golden Longsword, Dwarven Shield) and headed for the cave.

I arrived, and felt the ground surrounding it to be especially dry for an odd reason. Possibly because of spilt blood, an eerie idea yet it did not thwart me. I opened the door, and found the first section of the caverns to consist of a rather homely place, populated by two Vampiric Orcs in iron armor. I didn't think, I simply unleashed my skill and rage, then defeated them. As the first neared me, I kicked it in the chest, flooring it. I pushed my shield against the other, to my right, and twirled to exit the locked, then slashed her waist. As the other struggled to get up, I pinned it on the ground and drove my sword into it skull, just as the second let out a roar, and drew its blade down upon me. I blocked it with my shield, then grabbed the arm which held the sword upon me. As I rolled back, I placed my foot on its stomach, and did a backwards somersault. I had it on its back as I sat with its arm between my legs. I pulled it over my torso and snapped it in half, immediately pulling out my dagger and jamming it into its skull. It was a shame they didn't wear helmets.

I pressed onward as the cave grew darker, and I was forced to backtrack and carry with me a torch. I battled many a foe, including wild animals. Having defeated two wolves and a wild dog, I thought it would be wise to rest, and down a bottle of Health Spirit I brought with me. It was strong though, but thus was not just the effects of it. As I chugged it, my face squeezed up from the extreme bitterness. I felt tears come to my eyes, and had to pause in order to wipe them out. I looked down, and felt my vision return to normality. As I looked up, a figure was outlined in the doorway before me. Without thinking, I grasped my sword and hurled it in their direction with all my force, and saw before me a silhouette of blood splatter like splashing water from the figure as the sword was jammed in their clavicle. The body fell, and I walked over to claim my sword again.

As I ripped it from their ragged shoulder, I looked to my left and saw a bright, royal room, populated by several bloody altars and thrones. I held up my blade. As I brought my shield to chest height, and put my right arm in Attack position, a bent arm with the sword not too far from the body nor too close. As I entered, I found it to be empty. Further I waltzed until I was upon a landing, surrounded by altars and thrones. I stood perfectly still. Searched for sounds, of which I was an expert at. Nothing not a single crackling of rock, nor a rat in earshot. As I lowered my weapons, I felt it. They seemed like two sharp daggers dug deep into my body, and I felt all the blood in my shoulder drain. I reached back, and grabbed a head, then lunged it forward, throwing a body. As it hit the floor, I saw it was a woman, and she crawled back with bright red blood staining her black robe. She seemed scared as I neared her with my blade, leaning over from my wound. She screamed as I whacked my sword into her chest, and blood jumped from her. I continued to mash her until she breathed no more, and her body grew white with blood in an instant.

I felt woozy. As I tried to regain my stance, I tumbled around and ultimately fell over. I felt as though I was awake throughout the first few seconds. The world was black as I felt my last breath escape me.

I awoke in Rosethorn Hall, in my bed. I sighed a heavy breath at the fact that it was merely a dream. I got up and sat in my kitchen as I ate breakfast on a beautiful morning in Skingrad, consuming a healthy breakfast of cheese, wine, and boar's meat. I examined myself, and thought to check my body whenever I did a normal activity. I observed changes in awareness, alertness, whether I had felt disoriented in the slightest, and finally concluded upon my normality.

I strode past the front door when a rapping came upon it, and I opened it to see Falanu, my neighbor. She asked me if I wished to share tea with her later and talk at hr home. I said I had lots of free time, and that we could have gone out afterwards as well. The conversation ended with a goodbye, and she left with a benevolent glow upon her face. I walked to the master bedroom and dressed in my black and burgundy coat and gold trimmed shoes, then exited the front door to look upon a trio of hunter-looking men talking to a duo of Skingrad guards. I though to my own, "Relief, for I am not the only one hunting vampires." How the dream haunted me still on this Tirdas morning in Midyear.

I knocked on her door, and she opened almost suddenly, then smiled as though to hold back energy. I was invited upstairs where she had a very organized assortment of tea on a table, two chairs on either side, before a fireplace; the assortment was similar to what may be preferred by a long-married couple. Regardless, I sat down and enjoyed myself. She brought out grapes, wine, gourmet venison, cheese, and seasoned bread. It was quite delicious, and I had not so joyfully in such a time. We had a very merry morning and noon, waiting for nothing, and merely enjoying our presences.

But the occasion began to drop in spirits, when she got up to bring down the empty dishes and fetch more food. I offered to help, but she said she would surprise me with one of my favorite dishes. I wondered how she knew such a thing. I sat as I began to feel a tad downtrodden for no reason. I felt less excited, and my smile receded to a very mono-emotional frown. I then seemed to lose myself, but I never came to terms with what was happening. I seemed to accept it. And my veins, they pumped so violently. I felt as though my temple was caught up in a knot, the blood squeezed it so tight. Nay, I believed I was going to burst within a short time. I sat back and witnessed a strange sensation as the world became dark - dark and red. What little light showed was moreso red than fresh blood. My hearing nearly became impaired, and I gripped my armrest and nodded down my head. I felt something on my shoulder, and lost it.

I grabbed her hand as she placed it on my shoulder, and I beat her. The first blow to the face floored her, and my memory recorded everything that happened, as though to haunt me forever, I kicked her chest, bludgeoned her limbs, and most of all, beat her face to a bulge of blood. The floor became rather red, and I continued to beat all of her body as she screamed like a dying animal. But I did not let up. My force was that of one of the strongest in Cyrodiil. Her Dunmer flesh was tough, but no match for my brutal force. The beating slowed, until I ravaged her no more. I stopped, and in an instant, my consciousness restored. But before I returned to my normal state, I almost felt some form of sinister laugh resonate through my head. No, I did not hear a laugh. I felt the emotion I would feel if I had, though. And I nearly fell over with grief. Tears filled my eyes as I heard her breathe almost fruitlessly and innocently. I knelt down and shook her, but her eyes did not move, and it was painful to see her bludgeoned face. Oh god, what a beautiful woman she was, now struck my the fist of an ugly god. Oh why, what had happened? The grief has not yet escaped me so many years later, while I sit now in a setting millions of miles different from this.

I cried for a long time, and tried to recover my wits, but I failed to. I tried to figure out what had happened, but my physical grief blanketed and blinded my thoughts. I eventually decided to pick her up, and carry her back to my home behind the houses. I laid her down in my master bed, under the cover, and kissed her on the head. I brought out cloth and alcohol, then cleaned her face until no more than a bulge in her cheek and a black eye remained. I felt her face and marveled at how beautiful she really was, then held her more. I wondered what had happened to me as I gazed into beyond and contemplated. And the thought dwindled down from my thoughts, yet I tried in vain to face away from it. But the word "Vampire" fleeted through my thoughts like a lighthouse.

Nay a monster, was I. For I felt grief as a man would, and I cried, although in weakness, but I did not falter beneath my own weight. And such was my power that I had no intention of losing. Towns I would conquer in the old days, in the war. They would chant to me, "Champion! Your blood awaits you, the blood of whomever you pleased!" I would take notice but no heed of these signs of gratitude, as I knew I would find no use for them. They were but buffers between myself and my sanity. But I had no sanity, I only had, and still possess, the feeling of third-person. I cried for her because of my affection for her, not her display of beauty to the rest of all, nor the commonfolk's judgment. I may be an unsocial man, but I am not unreasonable. I've no reason to challenge this at all.

O, but look at me. I am judging myself like a mortal. Although I'm positive I am mortal as well, I know I am possibly immortal to them all. When I die, I am sure my legacy shall remain in the form of those whom I have slain, or those I have eliminated in order to cleanse this world for the better. When I die, maybe there shall be statues erected toward the heavens of a tall man with red hair blanketing his face, poring over a desk, scripting lyrics with a dagger in his own blood. Such an act, I have no contest with, for one day, such shall be me. I do not find solace nore disturbance in this fact. I expect it, in my own oneship with the titans of this world. With those I fought in Solstheim, with those I graduated alongside from the University. I knew a man there, who said to me, "Qjorva, do you know the formula for lighting a stone?" Why he would do such a thing, I've still not the knowledge to deduct. I answered him wrong, just to see how things may turn out. Why? Because I had no consequence. I never did. I never will.

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