Journal of Ahrazz Shield-Singer
Private! Do not read.

---Mid Year, 17th, 4E 201---
It's the middle of Mid Year, and I find myself in Falkreath with naught but a heavy purse of medes and my trusty stave. Not that I mind, of course - that was the entire point of this journey. I am somewhat chafed by the inexplicable loss of my last journal - I'm sure it will turn up eventually, though.
So, what have I been up to these last few months? I honestly couldn't say - without a written record, I may as well have been wandering Aetherius! Raldis always said my memory, or lack thereof, was my worst quality. I always responded that, unlike him, I could remember my mother's name - but that jibe falls short as I hardly remember her face these days.
But what am I doing now? Well, I'm in a lovely little town called Falkreath - half graveyard and half prison, with a wicked sense of local humor to boot. There's an alchemist, and a blacksmith, and a couple of old codgers who can't quite let go of their glory days. It's the perfect place to really sit back and think over my next move, and earn some coin fetching supplies from all over the place. All in all, hardly the worst place to find oneself with naught but a stick and a backpack. I think I'll quite enjoy my time here waiting out the summer.

---Mid Year, 17th, 4E 201---
What a day! I took on a request by the local priest to fetch his journal from some dank cave nearby - and got my red ass whipped even redder by a pair of ghosts! I understand these Nords refuse to burn their dead, and I respect that, but by the All-maker is it unpleasant to deal with the aftermath of these foolish decisions! I'm starting to see why Father was so hesitant to give his blessing to this pilgrimage - even if our clan originally were tasked with dealing with the undead, it is always a sick, sad endeavour. I suppose there's nothing else for it, however - I will simply have to accept this as my duty. Raldis and my parents would have wanted it, I am sure.

---Mid Year, 18th, 4E 201---
I have finally found my quest - a drifter here has been cursed by Hircine himself, ravaged with uncontrollable bouts of lycanthropy. An awful condition I managed to inherit by taking on the man's cursed ring. I now must learn to hunt - I have found an outlaw woman living high on the mountain who seems willing to teach me the art of Archery.
I will leave as soon as I can string a bow. I wouldn't want to burden her with having to shoot me down were I to transform.

---Mid Year, 19th, 4E 201---
I found a decent vantage point here in the wilds east of the city - a crumbling watchtower, but still sturdy enough to serve as a refuge. Unfortunately, it was occupied by a necromancer who saw fit to attack on sight. I had to slay him and the poor khajiit he had raised from the dead. Is this entire land full of naught but the undead and their twisted summoners? I wonder sometimes.
He also ruined my favorite tunic. I shall have to scavenge some thread and supplies and mend it before heading back to civilization. It occurs to me that wearing it before I have dealt with this lycanthropy situation would probably be counterproductive.
Regardless, I shall have to scrounge up some clothes and go hunting. If I don't find that stag, at least I should get dinner sorted.

---Mid Year, 20th, 4E 201---
What an awful night! I was set upon by a horde of undead dogs, and they got away with my pack and most of my gold. I still have my weapons and bow, and some jewelry I had stashed in a pocket, but this is regardless quite the setback. Luckily, I'm still not staying in town, as I have yet to sort out this ring situation, but I could hardly afford a night or two at this rate. I'll have to pawn off most of these things I've scavenged once I return to civilization.
Speaking of the ring, I feel it's high time to enlist some assistance hunting this beast. I've asked some of the local hunters and they all say the best around is a Bosmer who lives in the eastern reaches of the forest. I'll have to just ask her to help, and be honest about the risks. If she's half the hunter they say she is... she won't mind a bit. The real risk is her deciding that I'm better game than Hircine's stag.

---Mid Year, 21st, 4E 201---
I am, for better or worse, starting to understand the allure of the hunt. I have slain the stag, and Hircine (or one of his apparitions) came to speak with me. He bade me kill the betrayer who stole the ring. I objected at first, but after consulting with my companion, we agreed to hunt him. After all, that little girl would still be alive were the ring in its rightful place. We chanced upon another hunter in need of assistance - his friends had been slain by a spriggan nest and we offered to help. I believe I will have a fast friend in Falkreath to rely upon when I return to the city, after this ordeal.
Night falls over the makeshift camp we set up outside the cave. My bow-arm quivers with anticipation. The hunt is on.

---Mid Year, 22nd, 4E 201---
A hideous, blood-soaked night that was. I awoke near dawn in a cuirass I must have scavenged the night before when my robes were shredded in the melee. The stench of blood, I imagine, will never wash out.
I arrived to the hunting grounds, and at the last moment, realized I was being played for a fool by the Daedra, and that my prey had been as much a victim as the little girl he slaughtered. I instantly understood what to do - I joined forces with him against the blood-crazed hunters Hircine had sent after his pelt. We triumphed, but strangely, Hircine seemed more bemused than anything else and gave me his blessing on the hunt. I suppose, at that, it could be useful to me. I won't turn it down on principle. I have a long road ahead of me, after all.

---Mid Year, 22nd, 4E 201---
A horrible storm was breaking overhead when we exited the Grotto, so the elf and I decided to cut into the tundra forest for some shelter. After a brief deliberation, we agreed to head to Whiterun to sell off some of our loot and see the sights. She seemed a bit reluctant at first - I think she's been out in the forest for a long time. But her curiosity won over and we're going to see the Gildergreen. She is, after all, a wood elf.

---Mid Year, 23rd, 4E 201---
Well, we stopped into town to see about having some of our gear repaired and maybe purchasing some rations for the road - we'll be taking the long way back to Falkreath via the Reach, as we both want to see the temple of Dibella.
The Gildergreen was withered and dead, and I don't think my elven friend here is very happy about it. I asked the priestess of Kynareth here what the issue was - but she was so busy with the injured from the war that she hadn't a proper response. I will ask the Jarl before we leave, but I feel this is something that will have to wait.
My new shield should be ready in a few hours. Once we've picked that up and fixed the elf's bow, it's westward again. There's a Giant camp we're stopping by, need to talk some sense into them.

---Mid Year, 23rd, 4E 201---
I managed to get a moment of the priestess's time, and she told me the sad story of the Gildergreen - but she also entrusted me with the task of retrieving the revitalizing sap from its parent tree. The catch? I need to steal an ancient artifact from a group of man-eating hagravens near the ruins of Helgen. If my elven companion hadn't looked so excited (relatively speaking) at the idea, I just may have declined. That aside, the priestess offered me a job at the temple. They're short on strong men with the war - and this is, after all, what I came here to do. I accepted and am looking forward to tomorrow.

---Frostfall, 18th, 4E 201---
We stayed for a time in Whiterun, myself helping at the temple and in Arkay's Hall, with Sifina (the shy elf finally told me her name) hunting for game to sell and eat. She slept out of doors most nights, up on the walls where the breeze could still carry the scent of the southern pine forests and all the other signs of the changing of the seasons. Sometimes she would come down at night and we would drink at the Huntsman. We got on well enough with the proprietor, but I was always uncomfortable with that Alik'r woman at the Mare. She seems to be pretending to be a simple immigrant worker - I don't trust anyone with that big of a secret.
I still wear Hircine's ring. The irony in using the vigor of the hunter and of the wolf to chop firewood for the temple and carry patients in no way escapes me, but the Lord of the Hunt seems not to care. I'm sure he knows well enough the purpose of my journey, regardless.

---Frostfall, 19th, 4E 201---
We seem to have made a wrong turn.
We headed out early, hoping to get off of the plains before the season's first blizzard rolled in. Unfortunately, we kept having to divert north for various reasons, and suddenly were set upon by a horde of screaming, apologizing ghosts. We fended off most of them, but they backed us against the mountain and we were left with no choice but to flee into a nearby cave. Unfortunately, we got turned around and ended up exiting the cave's other mouth - which led to the nearby mountaintop, which appears to be a troll den. I am writing this by the light of a fire lit with the beasts' fat - but I can hear them howling something or other just over the rise. We have made an executive decision to cut down the western face, risking the fall, rather than go to war with a horde (horde? tribe? civilization?) of angry, frosty trolls. With luck, we'll hit the nearby farming town before morning, and before the storm comes in.

---Frostfall, 19th, 4E 201---
Morning broke as we slept lightly in a barrow that seemed to be the home of a ghostly jester of sorts. A Skaldr? We emerged to a clear day, and Sifina thinks we are just on the wrong side of the mountain set west of Morthal. A quick trek around it and we should be in the Reach.

---Frostfall, 22nd, 4E 201---
Markarth, the City of Stone. We arrived shortly before nightfall, exhausted from fording the river to avoid a Forsworn war party. A good night's sleep - with Sifina even sleeping indoors for once - and we headed out to explore the pre-dawn streets. Sifina wants to visit the temple of Dibella - for what purpose, I cannot imagine. We headed first to the keep to pay our respects at the Hall of the Dead - but the priest here informed us that it was closed. Apparently, they have a cannibal infestation in this city. I half-heartedly offered to help - but we'll be visiting Dibella's temple and seeing the sights before we start doing odd jobs.

But first, boots.

---Frostfall, 22nd, 4E 201---
I got a new pair, freshly cut from goathide, from the Jarl's blacksmith - a gruff but well-spoken Orc formerly of the Legion. He had some vaguely mad proposition about Daedra balls or something for me, but I really wasn't listening too closely. I looked over at Sifina, and saw that despite her cool demeanor, she was clearly uncomfortable under all this stone and metal. I excused myself and, under the guise of trying out my new boots, got us a courier job to the inn just east of town.

We arrived around midday and sat down for lunch when the largest woman I've ever seen came up and sat practically in my lap - dead drunk and tusked to boot. She said she was a mercenary that didn't accept payment - well, stupid or not, she looks strong as an ox. Sifinia looked knowingly at me and slipped out the back, feet making barely a patter on the cold wood porch. I'm sure she'll be here come spring, when I head back out on the hunt. For now, I have to get this gibbering Orc back to Markarth before dark. There's a lot of Forsworn out scavenging this late in the season.

---Frostfall, 23rd, 4E 201---
The orc's name is Duraz. I got her back to the old farmer's house who sent the letter, and he let us warm up and sober up by the hearth (she had another bottle of wine in her bag, which I helped myself to at her urging on our journey back). He said we could pitch a tent on his property and stay as long as we liked - I guess the old man really did miss his son. We'll need a warmer tent, but I'm going to take the old man up on the offer. It's not that far back to the city, after all.

We arose a few hours before dawn, and I was at this point rather worried about that corpse-eater the pudgy priest had told me about - so we headed forthwith to the Hall of the Dead. Imagine my surprise when she revealed herself instantly and tried to tell me I was a cannibal. Well, maybe she was talking to my new companion, who didn't look as put off by the suggestion. Actually, she looked quite hungry, but she seems to always look hungry. Regardless, we slew the cannibal and collected our reward. I think I'll leave some of my gear with the blacksmith here for him to hone and go take a long look around the city. There's got to be some kind of job for an honest worker in this awful place.

---Frostfall, 26th, 4E 201---
Not much else to write of. has happened. We dipped our toes into the Dwemer ruin under the keep, but got repelled by the Falmer inhabitants. The rest of the time has been running errands and mining ore for the local iron foundry. We made a bit of coin pawning off (my) findings in the ruins and digging up some gems in the mine. We're camping outside the old man's farm for now, the spot is well protected from wind and the snow shouldn't start for a fair while. My bones ache from the mining - I'm going to sleep.

---Frostfall, 29th, 4E 201---
Picked up my sword and shield from the castle blacksmith. He said I could hold onto them and pay him back later - I guess I should go earn some coin with this. I'll see if there's any work for a sword arm here. I dislike the work but I don't think mining iron ore is going to pay for food let alone a debt like this.

Turns out the Jarl dislikes this kind of work as well as I do - but the Reach is dangerous and the roads are unreliable, so the work is present. These Daedra worshipping creatures hardly deserve sympathy in any case.

I also stopped by the temple of Dibella - I wanted to see if it was open perchance. Well, the door to the back was ajar, and I stumbled upon the priestesses in council, debating their course of action in hushed tones. Hardly a prayerful image - but when they saw me they explained they were debating what should be done about the next Sybil of Dibella. Apparently, the old one has died and a young girl from a mining town will replace her. I agreed to escort the girl - and the priestesses gave me a lovely hood as a souvenir. After all, what is the point of traveling if you don't pick up a few?

---Frostfall, 22nd, 4E 201---
Found the town. Bad news - the girl's been kidnapped. Sent a hasty letter to the huntress and enlisted the girl's father to help. Even with four of us, I wonder what awaits us in that den of savages.

---Frostfall, 23rd, 4E 201---
Well, we managed to rescue the girl with her father's help. Those Forsworn hit hard but they go down eventually. I certainly don't think I'll be storming any more of their camps without much better armor and perhaps some magic assistance. Although, the open nature of their construction may allow me to strike at range and destroy their leaders, stripping the other savages of their morale. Maybe it would just anger them - I think I need to find a local who knows what tactics work best.
We also delivered the girl to the Temple, and Dibella gave me her blessing. I'll have to try it on Duraz later tonight... but enough about that. Time to get some well-deserved rest.

---Frostfall, 23rd, 4E 201---
After a good day's sleep, I've gotten in touch with a few of my acquaintances here in the city. The Breton porter from the general store grudgingly agreed that it was, after all, his job to secure the shipment that I'm getting paid to retrieve. We'll rest briefly at Hroldan then head to the redoubt in the dark of night.

---Frostfall, 24th, 4E 201---
We found and cleared a vampire's nest near the Forsworn camp. I think I'll use this as a camp in the future. You never know when you'll need a safehouse. As it stands, the night is young. We march on the camp. The pounding rain may well cover our entry.

We were able to slay them in a matter of minutes. The treasure in their fetid hive should pay back my debt and then some. I dislike looting and stealing on principle, but I have to remind myself that this is all blood gold, stolen from innocent travelers in the first place. I'm just returning it to its home.
Speaking of which, we found a mine near midday whose owner says is full of Draugr. I must, of course, put them back to rest. Such is my lot.

---Frostfall, 24th, 4E 201---
Well, that's that. Debts settled, loot fenced, bag empty. The smith was able to make use of some of the raw material we brought back, so he threw in some old Orc plate he no longer needed. I think I'll have his sister do the repairs - bit cheaper that way.
I'm feeling good, I've brewed a half dozen potions, and I want to test this sword. Sifina has agreed to help me hunt the foul creatures under the keep. After all, what fun is prey that can't fight back? Plus, I admit to a small amount of curiosity regarding the old Dwemer constructions we sit atop.

---Frostfall, 25th, 4E 201---
It's late and we're all dead tired. We've found 2 of the 3 expedition members dead, plus their guard. We were planning to set up camp in the main atrium but that's where they set up and they were slaughtered. We're going to push on until we find somewhere more defensible, then sleep in watches. At least the expedition's food will last us a few days. I'm not sure about water though - I don't relish the idea of going back down to the bottom for more.

Bad news. Falmer about to overrun city if we don't reactivate Dwemer defenses. Going to make a run for it. I've already told Sifina and Duraz to leave me if need be. They can get out from the other side and I was always fast enough to outrun just about anything.

---Frostfall, 25th, 4E 201---
Well, we flipped the switch. Calcelmo said it was "unlikely" that the hundreds of automatons that we awoke would take over the city - why they would draw the distinction between the undercity and the overcity escapes me, but that's probably why I'm not the scholar here. I'm just going to take his word for it.
Afterwards, we went to the temple of Talos to rest - I simply cannot get a good night's sleep in that noisy inn. Well, one of the locals was there waiting - the same one who slipped me that note when we first arrived. Apparently, he wants me to investigate why so-called "madmen" with forsworn ties keep assassinating people here. I'll see what I can dig up - I really do despise assassins.

---Frostfall, 26th, 4E 201----
Note to self - Investigating is very, very expensive work.

---Frostfall, 30th, 4E 201---
What a whirlwind week it's been. Barely had I started looking into the murder before the damned guards set me up for murder my damned self! They threw me in the mine to dig ore until I died, on charges of killing the man who had hired me.

Truthfully, I care little for the power struggles of this land. They strike me as one of the endless situations where no winner can be found. Although, I suppose, in this instance one side came out ahead. I encountered the king of the Forsworn down in the mine, you see, and he bade me listen to the tales of his accomplices. I was happy to do so, but then he sent me on a mission to assassinate one of his own simply for outliving his usefulness. I struck him down then and there, and found an exit in his cell. The Nord Silver-Blood rewarded me for my... favor. I still don't know what to make of this exactly - I headed straight out to the Reach to find a quiet place to think it over, and found myself a tree to sit under and write this. The setting sun paints the land the strangest shade of red as it dips below the horizon, and my pen stills.

I have a bounty note in my pocket that demands the head of a nearby Briarheart. My sword arm is eager after a week of mining, and the food in the mine was sufficient to keep my strength up. Duraz and I will hunt now.

---Sun's Dusk, 1st, 4E 201---
After cutting down the guards in a flash, we've stopped for a while in the redoubt's food stores - there's enough here to keep us on the road and fed for a month. We will sleep here, keeping watches, then head further in under cloak of night.

---Sun's Dusk, 2nd, 4E 201---
We were soundly rebuked by the savages. Duraz had to drag me to safety once they tired of toying with my lifeless body. However, their only strength is numbers - I doubt they can take us two-on-two. We will wait them out in the chokepoint in their ruins until backup arrives. I've sent for the huntress and the porter - we will try again on Morndas.

---Sun's Dusk, 4th, 4E 201---
I awoke shortly after dawn under the altar of Ebonarm cradling the severed heads of two Forsworn in my arms. Sifina was watching uneasily from a nearby rise. It was almost an hour before I could bring myself to ask what had happened. I could tell from the tremor in her voice that something had gone wrong. This is what she said:

Duraz fell in the battle, a forsworn arrow through her neck. I flew into a blind rage and took an enormous axe from a fallen savage. I stalked through the camp, chopping the sleeping Forsworn like firewood and tearing the limbs from the waking ones. I found the Briarheart and tore out his heart and cut off his head and put it in my bag. I ascended the tower, slaughtering the young girls training to be hagravens, and killed the matriarch before burning her corpse. After watching her burn down to ashes, I smeared them on my face and picked up my axe and starting walking. I followed my nose to the nearest den of Forsworn and walked up to one of them and cleaved him in two. I killed the rest and tore the jewelry and tattoos from their flesh and walked to the next encampment. She says she followed me, watched me do this for three days straight. I fell into a daze after the fourth camp and staggered here.
She won't be joining me on the hunt again, she says. I don't know if it's fear or pity in her eyes now. I don't know what to say. If anyone will understand me saying nothing, it's her, I suppose.

---Sun's Dusk, 5th, 4E 201---
Back in Markarth and drunk in the tavern. I've enough coin after selling the heads and the hearts and the gold and the jewels of the savages to not have to work for some time. I've spoken briefly to Calcelmo about magical training - I don't want to end up in a situation like that again. Raldis always said a warrior can't trust his steel - now I think I understand what he meant.
I'll have to go back and bury Duraz soon. Before she freezes over for the winter. She... wouldn't want to be left there for the birds.

---Sun's Dusk, 19th, 4E 201---
My studies under the wizard went well for a few weeks, but after not very long at all the Jarl started complaining that our experiments were keeping him up at night and told me to find a proper laboratory. I suppose I don't blame him.

As I packed up my things and headed off in search of somewhere quieter, I was stopped in the street by a Vigilant. I've offered to help him investigate the nearby house. We will see what awaits within.

---Sun's Dusk, 20th, 4E 201---
The Vigilant is dead. The Daedra corrupted him and forced his hand upon me. He was too weak to resist, so I slew him. Molag Bal himself awaited within, and spoke to me from his altar. He wants me to bring him a priest of Boethiah from a Forsworn hive in exchange for his mace. I have another idea in mind - but I will be heading to that encampment forthwith.

---Sun's Dusk, 21st, 4E 201---
It is done. The entire camp lies dead or dying, and the priest has been sent to his false god, a worthy sacrifice to the Black Knight. I don't imagine Bal will be pleased at all. I've found a man-skin map rolled up behind one of these savages' cots - showing what seems to be all of their hiding spots. Time to hunt.

---Sun's Dusk, 24th, 4E 201---
Another weekend, another hole torn in the Reach. I've lost count - I think that was the fourth camp fallen to my hand just now. My sword-arm still hums with the resonance of metal against bone. My last few journal entries are unintelligible - I think one of them is written in blood. I don't even remember why I set out from that camp - no bounties on these Forsworn. I don't even know if any of them attacked me first.

I think I need some time off. I asked a passerby just now which way it was to Solitude - I think he was about to run off at first. I looked down and saw the hot red blood still dripping onto my boots and the arrow shafts in my shield and plate. I shrugged apologetically and he just pointed north. Maybe I'll bathe before heading into the city to pray at the Temple of the Divines and seek guidance.

---Sun's Dusk, 26th, 4E 201---
As I was praying at the shrine to Dibella, a young girl came up and tugged on my sleeve. At least, that was what I thought had happened - she was actually older than I, and the sleeve-tugging was more of a rude elbow that I hardly felt through my armor.

Her name is Evelona, and she's a fellow wanderer who makes it her goal to put the undead back to rest, but in the name of Arkay. Her jovial demeanor and casual zeal for adventure reminded me of myself when I first began my travels, although I was likewise reminded of my grim task I have neglected of late.

As I leafed through my journal in the dying, dusty sunlight that streamed through the mosaic windows, I realized that my pilgrimage had been completely interrupted. I called out to the girl, who was napping on another bench, and asked if she wanted to strike out together in search of trouble. As it so happens, she had a line on a cave full of Necromancers, doubtless corrupting the land with their dark arts. We plan to head out in the morning after a few drinks at the tavern. I look forward to having a traveling companion again.

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Pub: 09 Feb 2022 01:19 UTC

Edit: 09 Feb 2022 02:02 UTC

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