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Author Topic: The continuing adventures of Vikarion the Blue, Breton Mage in Skyrim  (Read 3128 times)

Vikarion

  • Guest

This, should I keep updating it, is a continuation of my mage character's journal from the "Skyrim hardcore challenge". I've never played a full mage before, and it's a lot of fun. He's not eligible for the challenge anymore, but I'm still following the other rules: eat and sleep regularly. If he becomes a vampire, I'll drop being so strict about sleeping. EDIT: ok, gotta fast travel, or no time to write. 

If anyone's interested in this character doing something, or has questions, just post. Provided anyone even read this.  :P

First entry:
Dear Journal,
I came to Skyrim to try to escape the intrigue of High Rock, and nearly died anyway. Damn Empire. Got caught up in some sort of civil war, next thing I know, I'm two seconds away from losing my head. And then a dragon shows up and everything goes to hell.

I have to say, it was good timing. I left that square like a arrow from a longbow. Ralof, one of these "stormcloaks", helped me out. One of the Imperials, Hadvar, had the nerve to try to get me to go with him. Nothing doing. Ralof got us out, took us to Riverwood, where his sister took care of everything.

It's all a bit confused now. Doesn't matter. Found a job - get a guy's golden claw back from some burial mound. Was going to do it, but first needed to do a favor for Gerdur. Least I could do for her and Ralof. So I went traipsing up to Whiterun, to give them the news, neatly omitting my role as nearly-executed prisoner. And what do they want? Same thing as Mr. Gold Finge - I mean, Claw. Go to Bleak Falls Barrow and get something.

I have to say, bandits have to be the most hilariously easy targets in Skyrim. Draugr are frightening, but easily handled as well. I got the stone, the claw, and after returning the claw, took the time to do some exploration of my new homeland. I have to say, Skyrim is beautiful. I visited Solitude, where the Empire was executing someone, and Windhelm.

I swear, I will never fight for the Empire. Not after seeing the things I have. And yet, I have reservations about Ulfric as well. Dark elves are not well regarded in Windhelm. Well, some of them aren't. On the other hand, the Nords don't seem to actively discriminate against them - one is the favorite local bard of the tavern - and scuttlebutt is that they were invited to live in Windhelm. Perhaps it's just the inevitable reaction to newcomers.

At any rate, that's not the most exciting thing. The most exciting thing is that when I returned to Whiterun, I delivered the Dragonstone right before a dragon attack. The Jarl sent me out to help fight it, and I took it down with several frost spikes right before it was about to chow down on his housecarl, Irileth. And then it burst into flames, and I felt some sort of rushing energy that seemed to envelope me. I stood straight, opened my mouth, and said "Fus!" - which promptly blew everything in front of me forward in a gale."

Well, now everyone and the Jarl is talking of me being "dragonborn". I've never heard of this, but it seems like an exciting new avenue for personal study. Also, perhaps it will keep me alive in this strange new land.
« Last Edit: 10 Dec 2014, 01:37 by Vikarion »
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Vikarion

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Dear Journal,

I'm just out of Ustengrav, and I must admit that that was one of the more terrifying experiences of my life. But first...let me cover how I got there.

I wasn't too thrilled about the idea of hiking up to the Greybeards, but I eventually did it. It was a long climb, and I met a frost troll on the way. Fortunately it took the time to roar and pound the ground before charging, which meant that it wasn't trying to dodge the firebolt that put it out of my misery. Heh.

The greybeards taught me a few things. Also, a new shout, which propels you forward like a bolt from a crossbow. I wanted to ask them why they didn't just teach me all they knew, but that would probably have induced an even longer lecture, and the ratio of words to me getting shouts was already rather high.

They were pretty clear on something else, though. If I want to learn more shouts, I have to kill more dragons. Apparently Mirmulnir will not be my one shining moment of draco-cide. And they were also clear on that they wanted me to go get the "Horn of Jurgen Windcaller".

I don't know why they want the horn of a man with the surname of "Windcaller". If you ask me, the mountain is bloody windy enough.

Ustengrav, then. Huge. Booby-trapped. Infested by Draugr, skeletons, conjurers and bandits. Oh, and spiders. In one room, I had just finished dodging a bunch of flaming floor tiles by jumping onto the raised central platform when I was charged by two small frostbite spiders. No problem, two firebolts. Spiders dead, I go to poking through the debris - spider eggs are great reagents in alchemy - when I hear a noise. I look up, to see the biggest spider I have seen in my life hanging over me, fangs dripping.

Forget "whirlwind charge" shouts. What I need is an "instant back-up" shout.

Still, I killed it, with fire. After that, the Draugr seemed a bit less creepy, and the skeleton sitting on a throne was quickly dispatched almost casually. There was some sort of "word-wall", too, but while I memorized the phrase, I can't quite tap into it yet. Need to find a dragon.

Well. After all that, guess what? The horn was gone. Someone else had got there first. Left me a note, too. Hmph. I may need to take a break from this dragon-born business. Maybe I'll go check out that vampire hunter club I heard about.
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Vikarion

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Journal,
An eventful week.

I was going to return to Riverwood to check up on that note in Jurgen's tomb, but first I needed to sell some wares. So I went traipsing off to Solitude, because it was close. While I was there, I heard that the Jarl's Court Wizard offered magical training, so off I went to the court. That might have been a mistake. No sooner do I walk in then I find myself being asked to help check out a "haunted cave". Oh, and then said Court Wizard wanted me to clear out some vampires. If I'm not mistaken, she's one herself. Seems like a reasonable way to extend one's life, I may need to look into it. In the meantime, I took a few lessons in exchange for agreeing to her request, and the promise of some gold later.

The vampire lair was fairly easy. Three or four living like animals in some crack in the rock. Vulnerable to fire, too, I'll note. The haunted cave was another matter. First, I could barely find my way through it, second, it was full of accomplished necromancers with very good wards, and third, they were summoning something...or someone...the wolf-queen. I stopped it. With fire. Actually, I blew the ritualists practically off the edge of their little summoning platform with a barrage of firebolts.

I'd meant to go to Riverwood after I reported this in, but I'd picked up so much to sell from all this combat that I decided to take a carriage to Riften and then make my way Riverwood. Whiterun would have been better, but I'd exhausted their markets for a bit. So off too Riften it was. Where I promptly got pressed by the Jarl into stopping a local skooma dealer, which eventually entailed running out to another cave and blowing everyone in it to Oblivion.

But I did sell my goods.

I decided to simply walk the road from Riften to Riverwood, but I got a bit sidetracked exploring the area, and found myself at a place called Fort Dawnguard, alongside some young lad who seemed a bit naive. The man in charge is called Isran, and promptly offered me a job wiping out a...you guessed it...cave of vampires. I agreed, but said I had a bit of business to deal with first. A Vigilant of Stendarr was also there, and he decided he was going with me. We agreed to meet at the cave.

In the meantime, I finally made my way to Riverwood. Turns out that the innkeeper there is a member of the blades. Also a bit of an asshole. She insisted that we run all the way out to Kynesgrove to see what was resurrecting the dragons. Now, as far as I'm concerned, dragons are bad enough - whatever is resurrecting them is probably worse. Nonetheless, she did have a point, so off to Kynegrove we went.

Well, it turns out that what is resurrecting dragons is the dragon that attacked Helgen. Or, at least, it was the one resurrecting that dragon. I don't know the dragon tongue that well, but I'm fairly sure that the recently un-died dragon called the great monster "Alduin". Alduin flew off, and I'm just as glad he did. The other dragon, Sahloknir, was a pushover.

If that Alduin is the Alduin I've read of, Skyrim has big problems. Well, a bigger problem. Same difference. In any case, Delphine is convinced that it's all the Thalmor's fault. While I hate the Thalmor as much as anyone, I doubt that they are responsible for somehow corralling the son of Akatosh into raising dragons. Or perhaps this is some knock-off Alduin. In any case, I'm supposed to eventually meet up with her again. In the meantime, I got the horn back from her.

Which meant another trip up the damn staircase to the greybeards, all so they could ceremonially welcome me. They didn't even keep the horn. Although, it must be said, the trip was worth it. I now know another word of power, and to hear the greybeards speak was an...experience.

Then it was down the mountain and out to find that cave for Isran. I did, eventually, and left a trail of carnage through the rather unimpressive collection of vampires in the cave. Or crypt, really. I also found that above-mentioned Vigilant of Stendarr had decided to jump the gun, and died. I can't say I'm sorry. Vigilants are always prowling around, trying to get in your way, condemning you for "cavorting with daedra" or "unholy necromancy". Well, of course I associate with daedra. I'm a mage. It's what we do. Of course, I don't "cavort" with them. I bind them and turn them on my enemies. Not that the Vigilants make a distinction.

Eventually I made my way to a large chamber, where there was a pedestal with a button. Like an idiot, I pressed the button. Ouch. So, after pulling my hand off the spike that impaled it when I pushed the button, and healing it a tad, I noticed that this had apparently triggered some sort of magical puzzle. This took less time to solve than my hand took to stop hurting, and once solved, opened up a crypt that a young woman...well, young-looking-vampire...fell out of.

Her name is Serana, and she was more than willing to talk. And she wanted me to escort her to home. Well, why not? I presume the Dawnguard is after the vampires that have been attacking people...presumably Isran won't miss one less-than-bloodthirsty vampire.

After a long and cold trek, we arrived at Castle Volkihar. Well, I have to say that it looks like the rest of the family aren't nearly as nice as Serana. I get the feeling that that might have something to do with her being in that crypt, and she didn't look particularly pleased to see her "father". He was pleased to see her, however. So pleased he offered to make me a vampire.

Looking around, however, at his squabbling group of misfits burying their faces in human corpses, I decided to say no. I have no objections to vampirism in principle, but serving as the lackey dog of some self-styled lord in a castle of carrion-eaters? I'll pass. Besides, a courier had brought me a letter from Solitude asking me to return, just so that the local adviser to the jarl could tell me that the summoned Wolf-queen needs an extra order of killing.

And that's where I am today.
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Vikarion

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Dear journal,

It's been a while since I last wrote. Putting the wolf-queen back to sleep wasn't that hard. She was flashy, but her "tactics" consisted of throwing draugr at me. I've seen better. Not even very good draugr. Of course, there were plenty of them, but still, when she finally animated her own skeleton, it was pretty much an anti-climax. What did make this whole episode interesting was that this entire sequel was conducted in catacombs under the city of Solitude. Personally, if I were going to be burying a powerful necromancer, I would not do it under a major city, or a town, or even a village. Somewhere remote and preferably with a locked door comes to mind. The ancient nords had the whole barrow thing, for example. Not the worst idea.

After that, I decided that I needed to continue with my preferred business of alchemy. It's been quite enjoyable, traveling through the wilds of Skyrim, collecting herbs and various reagents for experimentation. It's also made me a master of Destruction. I didn't really start out with that intention, but it turns out that wandering the wilds of Skyrim is a really excellent method for discovering a virtual cornucopia of things that want to eat you, murder you for money, or kill you just because you are there. bears, Sabre-Cats, and wolves all figure prominently in this collection of homicidal maniacs.

On a related note, besides excelling at alchemy and destruction, I realize that I've come to be very casual about killing. Some of this is because of the above, I think. But it's also true that nearly being executed gave me a bit of a different perspective on things. I used to believe in Imperial Law, in order. And then, because I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and because an Imperial Captain couldn't be bothered to correct things, I almost lost my head, and but for a dragon attack, would have.

Which means that things like Imperial Law, like order, like justice...don't really matter. Not unless you have the force to back it up. And if you have enough force, you don't need to follow the laws of others, the order others try to create. You can make your own. You can challenge a High King. You can rebel against dragons. You can crush the grasping hand of a weak empire.

So, when I found an Imperial patrol bringing in a Stormcloak soldier for interrogation and execution, I killed them. When I found a Thalmor patrol, I told them I was a worshipper of Talos, and when they attacked, I burned them alive. And the next patrol, and the next, and the next.

I visited an orc stronghold, and there found a shaman who wished my help in speaking to Malacath. They had a weak chief, so Malacath gave him the quest of killing the giants that had infested Malacath's shrine. While the chief tried to slip by every foe, I killed. While the chief hid, I killed. And when we found the final foe, the chief - I will not record his name - tried to escape his test yet again. I refused, threatened him with flame, and he faced the giant. And because he had always been so weak up to this point, when strength was needed, he was wanting. The giant crushed him with a single blow.

But I, I killed the giant without taking a blow. And when I returned, Malacath himself called me the only worthy one of the entire assembly. I, a Breton and a mage, not a warrior. Why? Because Malacath and the Deadra understand what I came to understand, deep inside, when my head was on that block - that I was there because I had lacked the power to enforce my will on reality. That in the end, what mattered was not good or evil, love or hate, order or anarchy, but simply power.

In any situation, there is a level of power against which no tactics can succeed. This is, perhaps, why the dragon-born exist: to dominate. To be a singular entity of force and power around which events, people, and prophecy are forced to flow. The anomaly, the unbreakable rock in the gears of pitiless fate. To break cycles, dam streams. To be an agent of chaos to order and an ordering agent in mindless chaos.

Or perhaps not. But I think it to be so, and so let me see if I am correct, eh journal?

I still haven't made my way back to Isran or Delphine. Feh. Let them stew.

I did, however, join the Mages guild. I'm a bit ahead of the other students in Restoration, Alchemy, and Destruction. On the other hand, it turns out that there actually is a school called Illusion. Who knew? I jest. Nonetheless, I am but a novice there, and also in Alteration and Conjuration.

Anyway, we discovered some sort of sphere in a Nordic ruin. From the books I retrieved from some conjurers, the orb appears to be magical. Yes, obvious, but that's also all we know. Which is why I'm off to Mzulft, a Dwemer ruin. I'm excited - I've never been in one before.
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Vikarion

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Dear journal,

Again, a long space between entries. I can only attribute it to being so busy.

So, I'm archmage, of the college of Winterhold. Good thing it's mostly a ceremonial title. Otherwise I'd be too busy to write.

It turns out that one shouldn't turn over ancient magical artifacts to religious fanatics. Who knew? It also turns out that promotion by the death of those over you really works. Yay.

Personally, I don't feel like an "archmage". What I am is a very skilled mage, in destruction and restoration and alchemy. It seems like an archmage should be...I don't know, more than that.

Fuck it. Tolfdir will handle the day-to-day. And Skyrim needs those who will follow my example. Perhaps that's what it means to be archmage: one who provides a path to follow. Let's hope so.

I've been attacked by some strange cultists from Solstheim. I suppose I should go there. After I do a few more errands, I shall.

I have to say this: I love this place. Skyrim, for all of its faults, is enchanting, addicting, consuming. The brisk winds, the dark nights, the snow and the frost...I can't resist it. I love it. Something deep within me is akin to it. I wake in the quarters of some inn and all I can think about is my next destination.

Even the people - they're so earnest. I was listening to a bard in Solitude today...I almost wished I could join the Imperial cause. The people here are so quick to believe. I almost, not really, wish I could be like that. But I grew up in High Rock, and I know better.

Sometimes I wish I didn't. I'm going to go kill a dragon.

EDIT: derp, I fail at formatting.
« Last Edit: 04 Dec 2014, 20:26 by Vikarion »
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Vikarion

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Dear journal,

I'm still in a bit of shock at the events of the last few days. As little administration as I might have to do, I wasn't prepared for this level of authority. And I don't understand how it came to this.

Savos Aren was around for a long time. But since joining the College, I only managed to speak to him a few times before his death. How could a pathetic wanna-be mage like Ancano kill him? How did he know how to unlock the power of the Eye? When I used the Staff of Magnus, it took barely a moment to extinguish the little shit, and his compatriot who sought to stop me earlier was  entirely without defensive capability. And yet, Mirabelle and Savos are both dead. Were they weak? Incompetent? Or just unlucky?

Or perhaps cursed. Savos Aren killed his friends and bound their spirits to contain a Dragon Priest for all eternity. I entered the chamber and killed the Dragon Priest alone. Perhaps Savos Aren was a bit of a fraud, an arch-mage without power. Perhaps that is why I am seen as a replacement.

Or perhaps being Arch-Mage isn't about power, but wisdom. If one couldn't kill the Dragon Priest in Labyrinthian, perhaps the correct choice was to do as he did. Perhaps that sort of ruthlessly clear judgement is what is needed. Do I have that?

Time will tell. I wish I had had the time to learn more about power or wisdom - both, really - from Savos and Mirabelle.

In the meantime, I have even more reason to hate the Thalmor.
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Vikarion

  • Guest

Bit of a backlog here, will have a few to put up at once.

Journal,

I decided to try to discover where the cultists were coming from, and am I glad I did. I took a boat to Solstheim, landing at Raven Rock, a Dunmer colony that had fallen on hard times. "Had", being the operative word.

The first thing, of course, was to get the news around town. This quickly led to my discovering that people were falling into a trance and working on some sort of strange constructions, while chanting something. I've taken the liberty to write it here:

Here in his shrine
That they have forgotten
Here do we toil
That we might remember
By night we reclaim
What by day was stolen
Far from ourselves
He grows ever near to us
Our eyes once were blinded
Now through him do we see
Our hands once were idle
Now through them does he speak
And when the world shall listen
And when the world shall see
And when the world remembers
That world shall cease to be

Interesting, no? I thought so as well. I barely had time to take it in, though, before the settlement was attacked by a dragon. Not the smartest one I've seen, however. Apparently it was under the impression that there was no one here to stop it. Heh. It was only a couple of "Ice Spears" later that it was crash-landing to the north, where I finished it off.

So much for secrecy, though.

Still, it was enough to get me in good with the locals, who are pretty hospitable anyway. They told me that the biggest construction was in the center of Solsthiem. Off I go, then.
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Vikarion

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By the nine, I'm tired. I've been up for...three?...days, now. But I have to write this down before sleep.

I went to the temple. There I met Frea. There were more of the waking zombie-workers, but also cultists. Looks like I'm on the right track. We fought our way down into the depths of the...temple? Tomb? Both? And finally, there was a book. Black, and alien. I opened it, and was dragged...well, if not into it, out of HERE. Some of the more technical works I've read now make more sense. It's hard to explain words as tentacles that pull you through but not forward. And there was Miraak. He had a few nasty things to say, then...well, banished me, I suppose.

Frea seemed less put out about the experience when I returned than I was, which just goes to show that, in the future, someone else should be reading the alien books. Still, she was nice enough to suggest that I accompany her to her village, where we met her father, the village shaman, conducting some sort of ritual. Apparently their village is having the same problem as Raven Rock. After some discussion, Storn (Frea's father) told me that my best bet was to go find the same Word of Power that Miraak used to bend the will of others, and use it on the unusual constructions Miraak was building.

(Note to self: apparently the middle column is not actually the work of Miraak, but some sort of special spirit-stone being bent to Miraak's will.)

Conveniently, Storn and Frea knew of a likely location for a Word Wall with the appropriate phrase. Somewhat less conveniently, said Word Wall was located on the other side of the island. Even less convenient, to the point of outright bothersome, was the fact that said ruin was infested by VERY aggressive Draugr and a dragon, who didn't seem to mind each other all that much but minded me rather a lot.

I hid underneath an archway while blasting at Draugr with "Incinerates" and then went after the dragon. And guess what? No sooner do I put the thing down then some sort of spectral Miraak shows up and claims its soul. Now, get people up in the middle of the night to be amateur stone masons, sure. That's your standard magical-compulsion with a hint of megalomania. All very well and good. But still my rightful - well, rightfully stolen - power? What an ass.

At least I learned the word.

Obviously I needed to sleep on this. So I go back to the Retching Netch (yeah, really) and rent a bed. And where to I wake up? In bed? Nooooo. I wake up with cold feet and freezing hands, clutching a hammer, working on another one of these stupid arched mini-temples of Miraak's.

If I ever decide to come back from however many millenia Miraak has been gone, I think I might think twice about putting someone who just acquired the ability to destroy my constructions to work ON those same constructions. As it turns out, "unbending" the will of one of these "all-maker stones" results in a large explosion and the arrival of a rather ghastly creature which seems to have a preference for jewelry, or at least I deduced that from the next seven or so which took an "Incinerate" to the face.

Yes, journal, that's right. I spent the next two days without any sleep running around the island, blowing these little mini-temples up. And now, since that last cup of tea is wearing off, I am going to sleep. At least this Dunmer bed is more comfortable than a Nord one.
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Vikarion

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Journal,

That's much better. A good twelve hours of sleep, something to eat, and today was a good day. I was going to get back onto the anti-Miraak campaign, but I'd promised the local blacksmith (Glover Mallory) that I'd get his pick-axe back for him. This led me to Crescius, who was arguing with his wife inside the local abandoned mine. Apparently one of his relatives got lost in the mine and he wanted to prove something by finding him.

Well, he was nice enough to give the pick-axe back, so I offered to go look in the mine. Turns out that the mine ran into a Barrow, with plenty of Draugr. I found the bodies, although rotted away to nothing but bone, and an ancient, fragile journal. Also cleared out the Barrow. Then, after solving a rather interesting puzzle involving swiping a glowing sword across glowing rocks to open a door, I ran into a fucking Dragon Priest. I suppose a Dragon Priest is as good a reason to close a mine as any, but fortunately said Dragon Priest proved to be rather incompetent at dodging fire spells. Not that I gave him much of a chance. He came rising up from wherever he was and promptly ate the first one. Protip: when trying to ambush someone, shut up. Otherwise, you too may be the proud recipient of whatever said someone uses as their primary offensive weapon.

Anyway, said Dragon Priest was guarding another black book. Which I read, because maybe I could get at Miraak through it. Worth a shot, but instead I ended up in Apocrypha, similar and yet different in location from the first time I read one of these. Hermaeus Mora welcomed me, and then vanished. I made my way to the end of his little maze, which actually wasn't that bad, and read the same black book to get out. I picked up a few things on the way, so, overall, hardly the worst thing I've experienced. Not sure what to think of that, yet.

On the plus side, the mine is open again, and now I'm the local hero. Now I'm off to see Neloth, the local wizard. Storn, of all people, explained that Neloth was into this sort of thing. Black books, I mean, not mining.
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Vikarion

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Journal,
Well, I've been busy, there's no doubt of that. I spoke to Neloth, and we retrieved the Black Book from a Dwemer ruin. For all that it was Dwemer, it wasn't that interesting. In fact, Neloth is far more interesting, though I haven't had a chance to speak to him since. The challenge here wasn't finding the book, it was simply managing the ancient engineering to get access. Fortunately, Neloth knew exactly what needed to be done.

The book was...different. Finding my way through it was like finding one's way through a maze. I understand now the stories of mages being lost forever in Apocrypha. You find an interesting book, you read it, and next thing you know, you have no idea where you are. The walls and floors shift, pages blow across your vision, and the endlessly flowing sky and greasy sea disappear dizzily into the infinite distance.

At the summit of this place, I spoke to Hermaeus Mora. He taught me the next word of "Bend Will", and told me that I must have the third to defeat Miraak. I believe he speaks truth. Hermaeus Mora seems to want this confrontation, and even seems to think that he wins, no matter which of us prevail. But he has a price: the secrets of the Skaal. If I am to be given the power to defeat Miraak, I must get the secrets.

I have thought on this for a few days, while doing a few odd jobs around Raven Rock. It seems to me that I have a choice: I can wait until Miraak returns, and take my chances with him at the height of his power, or I can seek him out now, in the heart of what he believes is his power, where in fact Hermaeus Mora will offer him no more than he offers me. Miraak is certainly powerful...but that element of surprise might just be the weakness I need.

If I do this, I know that it will come at great cost to the Skaal, or at least to one of them. It will even be, in its way, a betrayal, for I know the nature of Daedric Princes and even a playful touch from one of them can render a mortal mad.

But if I do not do this, I will face a Dragon Priest, dragon-born, with power I will not have, commanding dragons and men alike to do as he wishes. Perhaps he will face Alduin, then, if I fall. Yet, I am Dragon-born, bestowed with the will to power by Akatosh, and created for this moment. Should I turn away from power, as I have never before?

I will go to Storn in the morning.
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Vikarion

  • Guest

Storn is dead. I gave him the book and Hermaeus Mora ripped his mind apart and tore the knowledge of the Skaal's secrets from it. But Hermaeus Mora also kept his bargain - the third word of "Bend Will".

In the middle of a driving wind, as the sharp cold air whipped stinging flakes of snow around our faces, Frea knelt over the body of her father, into which the Draconic runes for "DOV" had been burned.

At least I had the courtesy to pay my respects with the others. And then I turned aside, and opened Miraak's black book.
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Vikarion

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Miraak is dead.

I fought my way through his seemingly endless maze, burning down the abominations of Hermaeus Mora. When Miraak send his dragon against me, an ugly, snake-like beast, I crushed its will with mine and rode him to the top of Miraak's spire. And there, though Miraak brought slime and sword and fire against me, though he consumed the souls of his servants to save himself, though he shouted, I cast him down and consumed his soul.

Of course, Hermaeus Mora had to have his own fun, lifting Miraak's burned and broken body aloft to expire gracelessly. But I am not afraid of this Daedric Lord. When I consumed Miraak's soul, I understood what he had seen. At his core, Herma-Mora is, if not a coward, precisely, something that can act like one. He is a creature of darkness, not necessarily evil as man or mer might think of it, but of secrets, of hiding and hidden things, of watching. If one is not beguiled by him, if one does not become indebted to him, one can survive dealing with him. Of course, Miraak did become indebted to him, fleeing Tamriel when he was cast down from his place, and might have survived still if he had not betrayed Hermaeus Mora.

And I understood Miraak as well. Miraak's fall was to seek a higher place than his power could grant him. He wished to be a god, a bright and shining deity who terrified even dragons. Yet when he could not prevail against them, he fled into outer darkness. I do not think that the ambition is entirely in vain - look at Tiber Septim, Talos of Atmora, who did ascend to divinity - but Talos became a deity by his deeds first, not by his self-glory. First, kill the dragons, or first found the Empire, and then what you deserve may follow.

As for me, I will never allow Hermaeus Mora to get hold of my soul, not if I can help it. I have a plan. Back to Skyrim, for now, and to Isran. Storn shall not be my last betrayal, and unlike Storn, Isran will neither be a willing sacrifice nor a comprehending one. Indeed, I suspect that he is so blinded by hate that he won't see it coming.
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Vikarion

  • Guest

Journal,

I made it back to Isran. The long wait did well for my plan - I arrived just as a group of vampires attacked and helped drive them off. This, of course, was a bonus I could hardly have hoped for in cementing my loyalty in his eyes. It also helps that the increasing rate of vampire attacks is making him desperate. So when I told him of what happened with Serana, he was completely understanding. Even better, he sent me out to recruit two others, which I agreed to.

Of course, I'm not a fool. I've taken the liberty of enchanting this journal with a misdirection spell. Anyone else reading it will only think it's another stained copy of "The Lusty Argonian Maid". It won't last forever, but it should do for the next few months.

My plan is not fully fleshed out, but it's reasonably clear to me. These vampire attacks need to stop - I have nothing personally against vampires, and the court wizard in Solitude is both vampire and casual friend, but attacking cities is insane. And yet, after seeing what Miraak ended up as, my plans for ensuring both the safety of my soul and the immortality of my body can clearly not include a Daedric Prince. Nor am I enthusiastic about lich-dom, not least because neither I nor anyone in Skyrim seems to have a clue as to how one might become one. That leaves vampirism.

I've already concluded that serving in the court of "Lord" Harkon as a simpering lackey is unacceptable. However, I know I can kill the Dawnguard - indeed, I have killed many like them, such as hostile Thalmor and Vigilants of Stendarr. So, I will aid the Dawnguard against the vampires, and then, when they are crushed beyond being a threat, I will seek one of them out and offer him mercy in exchange for infecting me. And then Isran and his little band of murderous religious fanatics will taste the sun in a whole new way.
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kalaratiri

  • Kalalalaakiota
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  • Shes mad but shes magic, theres no lie in her fire
    • Kalaratiri - Video Diary.

Just posting to say that I am greatly enjoying these :)
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"Eve roleplayers scare me." - The Mittani

Vikarion

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Just posting to say that I am greatly enjoying these :)

Oh, that's good to hear. Uh, read. I was starting to wonder if anyone was reading them.  :P
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