Marik

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Fredas, 5th of Heartfire

I met a… talking dog today. Was searching town for work in order to buy the land that was for sale in the area. Turns out the bandit job wasn’t to make me Thane, it was only a test to see if I was worthy to buy land. That’s all I really wanted though, so I don’t see much use in perusing Thane-ship here.

Anyway, the dog. The smithy in town found this dog, but it ran away, and he desperately misses the poor thing. With some soft words I was able to get some gold up front, but the man may be cross with me, as I don’t see the dog returning to him. In fact, I was so swept up by the absurdity of the situation, I was coerced into helping the furry thing. I didn’t quite follow everything he was spewing… keep in mind that his voice projected from his being rather than his mouth; dogs don’t have lips, that would be even more bizarre. But he seemed to suggest that he was the servant of a Daedric Prince, and must meet with this entity in a shrine to beg for forgiveness. He also said something about cultists; I wonder if that’s going to be an issue…

Oh! Before I left town, I was able to catch a quick bite while the villagers slept. In one building was the elf man I had done work for previously, and another. They both stirred little when I drank from their necks, and boy was it good! I’ve noticed that different races seem to have different tastes. Elves have a more refined sweet taste while humans are more thick and savory. It almost makes me want to try cooking with blood, but that would be ill advised; I’d have no means to obtain the raw substance without blatant murder, and if I were to be discovered, it would spell the end of me.

>Read pink lace diary

Yeah get it Steph

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Turdas, 4th of Heartfire

There’s something about Falkreath, an air of gloom surrounding the town. Maybe it’s the massive graveyard that the town’s been built around. They say that heroes and warriors used to come to these parts to be buried here, and that many a battle happened on these grounds. Or it could be the constant rainfall, but I’m not complaining, as the clouds keep the sun hidden. But I can tell this place is going to be interesting. For one, the jarl is only a fresh faced boy who seemed little interested in the job other than the fancy title. His uncle ruled before him, but I’m told that they removed him from power when it was known that he’d side with Ulfric Stormcloak. The boy, I’ll need to keep an eye on him however. The job he sent me on to become Thane involved taking out bandits that he was previously colluding with. What they were doing, I don’t know, but I can’t believe it was anything good.

Another thing, a man came into town some time ago and murdered some kid, ripped her to shreds like a beast. I have half a mind to visit the jail and spit on him, maybe just even figure out why he did such a terrible thing in the first place. And I also got a second job, an elf man requested that I find a journal he lost in a cave to the north. He said he’d pay well, and I have a bit of a soft spot considering I have one myself.

Stenvar seemed like he was feeling better when I came back. I told him we had work, and he asked if it involved killing. I said yes, and he nodded, and then we left. Even though it was daytime when we departed, the rain made travel easy on me, and we chose to go find the elf’s journal because it was closer. The cave itself looked like it had old ruins in it but it was so dilapidated that nothing remained save for a few cracked pillars and a bit of rubble. That should have tipped me off, the place seemed normal enough until a crystal on a stand began shooting magic at me. Not only that, but skeletons roamed this place, servants of a necromancer that now lived here. He went down without much trouble and we found the journal easy enough, but I noticed a table covered in blood as we were getting ready to depart, and I couldn’t help myself to dab my hand in it and lick it up while Stenvar walked ahead.

Exiting the cave we found it to be nighttime, and this proved useful when taking out those bandits. There were maybe around ten, all separated in groups of three around their camp, and even though we finished that quickly we still couldn’t get back to Falkreath in time to speak to the jarl. Whatever, we’ll just rest in Dead Man’s Drink till morn, but I have little incentive to sleep after running into a man around town that said he was a vampire hunter for a group called the Dawnguard. If I see him again, I’ll keep an eye on him from a distance, I don’t want to end up with my head on a pike.

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Middas, 3rd of Heartfire

With our success in Whiterun and little sign of another Stormcloak attack, I’ve decided that I want to check out Falkreath to follow them up on becoming Thane of the hold and possibly purchase land. The town seems nice enough, if a tad bit small for my tastes. It’s around the wee hours of the morning at the moment, far too late to talk to the jarl now. We’re passing time in an establishment called the Dead Man’s Drink. Stenvar’s getting his fill of ale, and I’m writing.

We had to walk the roads due to the carriage service closing their doors with the recent battle. I expected to see a few roving bands of Stormcloak soldiers, but luckily that wasn’t so. The only thing of note on the road was an Orc man beside the carcasses of two Sabre Cats. When we stopped to investigate, the man started to speak of how he was past his prime and needed to die in an honorable manner. To me he just seemed insane; I can never understand why someone would search for death.

Stenvar on the other hand seemed to understand the Orc better than I, and he agreed to engage in a duel. I was surprised at how thrilling it was; they both slogged it out for what felt like forever, trading blow after blow. Each of them would stagger at one time or another but never fall. I was most impressed when the Orc swung his weapon time and time again but was only met with a steady sword blocking each hit. Stenvar isn’t the youngest of men, but still he was able to stand toe to toe with an Orc brute almost as if he were one himself. But he isn’t an Orc, and eventually he fell to his knees in submission. I never ran as fast in my life as I did when I saw him falter. I drew my blade, and ran it clean through the Orc’s chest before he could deal the death blow.

Now, Stenvar’s usually the one to provide friendly conversation while we’re traveling, but he hasn’t said a word since. I know it’s because of the fight, but I’m beginning to wonder if it’s because I interfered. He should understand, I couldn’t just let him die, and even though we’ve only been working together for a little over a week I feel we’ve become friends. I’m just going to give him some time to do whatever it is he needs to do, be it to think, or rest, or drink. I’ll talk to the jarl on my own, I shan’t bog him down with my business.

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Oh the year why didn't I think of that

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Tirdas, 2nd of Heartfire

We arrived at the Whiterun gates by mid-morning, and by this time the Stormcloak army was already lurking in the surrounding hills. When I ascended to the keep to warn jarl Balgruuf, they had begun the march, and as I departed the keep, the battle had already begun. The walls and gates had been fortified with troops under Legate Quentin Cipius and the field was commanded by Legate Rikke. I was put up on the front walls with the archers, and Stenvar took position down with the foot-soldiers.

The Stormcloak force rushed in at a steady rate, so much so that us up on higher ground couldn’t stop the enemy from reaching the barricades. The chevaux de frise had fallen quite quickly, leaving nothing between the opposing forces. It was sometime around this point that I departed from the walls and drew my blade on the ground. And I must say, the delirium that can set in after long spurts in combat can almost bring you to striking your own allies. I recall one instance where I had broken away from a duel and got the chance to pull out my bow to provide covering fire, and yet as I studied the field for targets, I had a difficult time telling the difference between friend or foe.

Also; I may have taken out one of the Stormcloak commanders, as I encountered a man with intricate garb, who I believed to be a bandit at one point if only because he was wearing a skinned bear on his head. Let’s just say that I took his outfit as a war trophy. The Stormcloak forces eventually gave in and retreated, the battle lasting for around three hours. With a defeat like this, the Empire has proven that we have the ability to fend off the enemy forces. It can’t be long now before we start the attack ourselves and begin reclaiming holds. Or, so I hope.

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Morndas, 1st of Heartfire

Concerning the state of Whiterun, I can say for sure that they are siding with the Empire. Balgruuf sent word sometime last night to the capitol, and hopefully there’s a Legion regiment stationed in the city as I write, because I believe that the Stormcloak army will be marching on Whiterun in a few hours’ time. Balgruuf handled relations the traditional way by sending me with his axe to Windhelm, and while I’m not very studied in Nord practices, I believe that Ulfric’s answer was negative. What may transpire over the next day could be a pivotal point in the war; Whiterun is an important hold and if it falls into Stormcloak hands, they may find themselves with a leg up on us.

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Sundas, 31st of Last Seed

What has transpired between today and yesterday, the events are somewhat difficult for me to wrap my mind around. For my sake, I’ll go through them one by one as they happened.

Firstly; Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun is very keen on placing the weight of his chores on the Empire, or in this situation, me. Before he’d even consider looking at the papers I’d delivered, I was sent out to go find some sort of dragon slab up in yet another Ancient Nordic ruin. It contained undead like the other two, but the similarities don’t stop there. While I was in Korvanjund retrieving the jagged crown, we came across a locked door with a claw shaped keyhole, and there was another door just like that here. They both opened after the retrieval of an intricate metal claw found in each location, and paved the way further in the ruins. Korvanjund’s claw was made of ebony, and this one is gold. I’d like to keep a lookout for more of these artifacts; they would certainly make a nice collection.

Secondly; Dragons are terrifying. Retrieving the slab? That was easy, and even though I grow tired of crypts, I’d gladly live in one than face a dragon. Which I did; Balgruuf practically sent me to my death bed when he ordered me to face that beast, and I’d be resting there now if I wasn’t accompanied by five of his men. The fire that it spews, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man’s flesh sunder quicker. In the chaos of it all I even thought I lost Stenvar, but he was hiding in the tower. For a man that talks on and on about battle, he sure did run for cover fast. While we lacked the spine to take that thing down, the Whiterun men were able to get the job done, and I’m steadily hoping that they’ll join our side in the war.

Thirdly; you really don’t have to do much to be perceived as a hero. The jarl has named me a Thane of Whiterun; basically a fancy title dubbing me as important to the masses. I don’t know what to think about this, as I don’t really deserve the honor, but having a Housecarl to do my bidding is always a positive. The hold of Falkreath has also extended an offer to make me their Thane by letter; it seems I’m becoming quite popular. If I wish to do so I can buy land in either holds, which might be smart, as I could use a base of operations.

>Read Bloody Journal

is this "read bloody journal" as in reading a journal covered in blood, or reading a bloody journal in the swear sense?

@Mr_pink

It’s the first one; maybe my character dies, maybe the journal just gets covered in blood through glorious battle. We’ll see where the game takes me.

Although if you want it to be the second one, by all means, let it be the second one.

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Fredas, 29th of Last Seed

The battle of Korvanjund was a glorious example of the combat prowess that the Imperial Legion commands. There we were, in the bushes with the night shroud all around us, looking down on the rebels as they patrolled the crypt entrance. They had no idea what hit them; we pounced like a mighty sabre cat, raining blows as a unified force until none stood in our way. I have to wonder if the Stormcloak men even have military training at all; their performance was bombast at best and uncoordinated at worst.

This being a Nordic ruin, there were zombies, and the only way they would ever pose a threat would be if they had the mental aptitude to understand modern Nord patriotism. I must say, a Stormcloak army filled with the walking forces of their long gone ancestors would be a sight of pure horror. Luckily, Ulfric hasn’t found a way to do that, because no matter what, an unyielding horde would always trump a smaller, more organized group.

Thanks to us, the crown now rests safe in Solitude, but we aren’t allowed that same luxury just yet. I’ve been given orders by General Tullius himself to deliver some high priority documents to the jarl of Whiterun. Maybe whatever they say can bring the man to his senses and finally get him to drop his neutrality in this war.