Complete BOOK and NOTE Text for Dawnguard DLC in The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

Confessions Of A Khajiit Fur Trader

My execution is tomorrow. The turnkey asks what I'd like for my last meal. Bring me paper, I say. A quill and a candle. Perhaps the Jarl would like a confession. I would rather pass the time. When my father's harem burned down and our family fortune was lost to the ashes, my brother and I set to begging in the gutters of Elsweyr. I will never forget the first time we stole a traveler's purse. It was almost by accident. Just a slip of the claw and the pouch fell into our hands. We ate like kings that night. We slept in a warm bed for the first time in months. Soon after, my brother and I took up the knife. The gang we joined treated us as the dirty orphans we were. We robbed, we scammed, we cut and ran and years of debauchery and hard living took their toll. I lost half my left ear in a knife fight with a blind drunk Argonian. I wanted to give up, but my brother, he dreamed bigger, better. My brother wanted to make it to Cyrodiil and become legit merchants. We had a plan. One final heist of a northbound caravan said to be filled with jewels. Something went wrong. My brother could not stop the horses on time, and I stood helplessly by and watched the wagon plummet over a cliff. But as I picked through the wreckage, my devastation turned to excitement. There were no jewels, but there were plenty of luxurious wolf pelts, horker tusks and mammoth hides, more than enough to buy my way to Cyrodiil. I'd follow in the footsteps of so many of my kind. A traveling merchant, someone with a respectable profession. I had all the furs bundled in my pack when I saw my brother's broken body. His ears were still warm, and I shut his eyes for the last time. This was his dream. And he would want me to go. But what I wanted, well, the caravan guards were coming. I had to go, but I couldn't just leave his body to rot. My brother gave me my first skin. It was to be a memento. But in the darkness of the fence's cabin, the coin hit my hand heavy. Then she looked at my brother's pelt and offered three times the amount of any other fur. Disgust caught in my throat, but did not live very long. I realized the cost of such a forbidden luxury. The value, the demand, the respect. This is what I wanted. It became easier. A dark alley, a gag in one hand and a quick slice across the throat. Gently hold the body as it bleeds. I became faster, my cuts precise and fluid. I peel the skin with one motion and kept the merchandise pristine, in one piece. I became rich. Far richer than anyone in my family had ever been. Yet I was careful. My stronghold was well-hidden, and practically impenetrable. I hired the men that used to employ me. We moved frequently on less traveled roads when we hunted in the wild. We stalked the back alleys we used to sleep in when we hunted in the city. I grew so rich that I no longer needed to dirty my own hands. Patchwork colored furs fetched the best price among the Bosmer. Argonians preferred the pelts completely skinned and tanned. Orcs prized the thick, waterproof leather of the Argonians. Humans most often bought tails and ears. I had to employ an alchemist and a master craftsman for a couple odd requests, but I didn't ask questions when the gold piled up. And now I'm a prisoner. Maybe I became careless. Maybe I let too many secrets slip between the sheets. The raid of my fortress was a massacre. They took me alive, barely. That was their mistake. My enemies should have killed me when they had the chance. I have one lockpick. And the northern wall of my cell is weak from disrepair. My head shall not roll tomorrow. I am not finished with the trade. There will always be buyers. Someday, I will sell my own skin for a king's ransom, as my name is legend. And yours shall rot in the gutters with your bones. -The Fur Trader

The Sultry Argonian Bard Volume 1 By: Ellya Erdain

Act VI, Scene II, continued Croon-Tail My lady, I could never perform your request! Ellya Erdain Oh? Is it too fast for you? Croon-Tail I fear that it might damage my instrument. Ellya Erdain Ah. But you seem to handle your instrument so well, my darling. Croon-Tail You flatter me, my lady. Ellya Erdain Yes, well it is such a large and magnificent piece. May I hold it? Croon-Tail Goodness no! The innkeeper would never approve of such a public display. Ellya Erdain Then may I suggest a private performance? Perhaps, away from the noise of the inn where we both may enjoy your tremendous talent. Croon-Tail Surely you don't mean for me to accompany you to your room? Ellya Erdain Indeed I do, my sweet. Indeed I do. END OF ACT VI, SCENE II

The Book of Life and Service

The Ranks of the Blessed Blessed are the Bonemen, for they serve without self in spirit forever. Blessed are the Mistmen, for they blend in the glory of the transcendent spirit. Blessed are the Wrathmen, for they render their rage unto the ages. Blessed are the Masters, for they bridge the past and span the future. The Litany of Service The Boneman's Oath We die. We pray. To live. We serve. The Master's Voice You swore. To Serve. Your Lord.

The Betrayed by Engwe Emeloth Translated from Falmer Text by Calcelmo of Markarth

nd when the Snow Prince fell to ground, The Ice Elves divided above and below. Now vanquished and brutally bound, One moment had shattered all they did know. [pagebreak] he once cool wind on their skin, Now replaced with the heat of the flame. And a pride once felt deep within, Forgotten along with their name. [pagebreak] orn from their home of ice and frost, Thrown into the pitch black dread of night. Living in fear as their minds become lost, As their eyes begin dimming the light. [pagebreak] hained and enslaved, What once was light turned to blackness. Alone and betrayed, Sinking deeper into madness.

THE BETRAYED ENGWE EMELOTH

AND WHEN THE SNOW PRINCE FELL TO GROUND THE ICE ELVES DIVIDED ABOVE AND BELOW NOW VANQUISHED AND BRUTALLY BOUND ONE MOMENT HAD SHATTERED ALL THEY DID KNOW [pagebreak] THE ONCE COOL WIND ON THEIR SKIN NOW REPLACED WITH THE HEAT OF THE FLAME AND A PRIDE ONCE FELT DEEP WITHIN FORGOTTEN ALONG WITH THEIR NAME [pagebreak] TORN FROM THEIR HOME OF ICE AND FROST THROWN INTO THE PITCH BLACK DREAD OF NIGHT LIVING IN FEAR AS THEIR MINDS BECOME LOST AS THEIR EYES BEGIN DIMMING THE LIGHT [pagebreak] CHAINED AND ENSLAVED WHAT ONCE WAS LIGHT TURNED TO BLACKNESS ALONE AND BETRAYED SINKING DEEPER INTO MADNESS

Journal of Mirtil Angoth Translated from Falmer Text by Calcelmo of Markarth

4th of Evening Star I used to dream of fighting in battles like my Father. He had begun teaching me to fight the moment I was able to pick up a blade. Mother had argued that I was too young, but he paid her no mind. I can still remember the elation I felt the first time I bested Father in a match and the look of pride on his face. If it were up to him I know he would have allowed me to join him in battle. With me at his side he may have fared better. Now with Father and so many others slain, the Old Ones claim we are left with too few warriors to continue the fight. I was not the only Young One to speak out in protest, but our small voices went unheard. It has been decided that we must flee to seek help and protection. [pagebreak] 8th of Evening Star News has reached us that the great Snow Prince has fallen in battle. The urgency to go into hiding has left many of us scattered and those of us still together unsure of which direction to turn. In the long hours of night we keep huddled together always fearing the worst until the first light of the blessed sun. May Auri-El guide our footsteps. [pagebreak] 13th of Evening Star In the night I overheard the Old Ones whispering secrets of the underground and the Dwemer who dwell there. I thought back on stories Father once told me of these dwarves, heroic tales of honor and glory. The Old Ones must know of these stories for it has been decided that we will change course upon first light. I feel hopeful that the Dwemer will help us to avenge our fallen and reclaim our land.

MIRTIL ANGOTH JOURNAL

FOURTH EVENING STAR I USED TO DREAM OF FIGHTING IN BATTLES LIKE MY FATHER HE HAD BEGUN TEACHING ME TO FIGHT THE MOMENT I WAS ABLE TO PICK UP A BLADE MOTHER HAD ARGUED THAT I WAS TOO YOUNG BUT HE PAID HER NO MIND I CAN STILL REMEMBER THE ELATION I FELT THE FIRST TIME I BESTED FATHER IN A MATCH AND THE LOOK OF PRIDE ON HIS FACE IF IT WERE UP TO HIM I KNOW HE WOULD HAVE ALLOWED ME TO JOIN HIM IN BATTLE WITH ME AT HIS SIDE HE MAY HAVE FARED BETTER NOW WITH FATHER AND SO MANY OTHERS SLAIN THE OLD ONES CLAIM WE ARE LEFT WITH TOO FEW WARRIORS TO CONTINUE THE FIGHT I WAS NOT THE ONLY YOUNG ONE TO SPEAK OUT IN PROTEST BUT OUR SMALL VOICES WENT UNHEARD IT HAS BEEN DECIDED THAT WE MUST FLEE TO SEEK HELP AND PROTECTION EIGHTH EVENING STAR NEWS HAS REACHED US THAT THE GREAT SNOW PRINCE HAS FALLEN IN BATTLE THE URGENCY TO GO INTO HIDING HAS LEFT MANY OF US SCATTERED AND THOSE OF US STILL TOGETHER UNSURE OF WHICH DIRECTION TO TURN IN THE LONG HOURS OF NIGHT WE KEEP HUDDLED TOGETHER ALWAYS FEARING THE WORST UNTIL THE FIRST LIGHT OF THE BLESSED SUN MAY AURI EL GUIDE OUR FOOTSTEPS THIRTEENTH EVENING STAR IN THE NIGHT I OVERHEARD THE OLD ONES WHISPERING SECRETS OF THE UNDERGROUND AND THE DWEMER WHO DWELL THERE I THOUGHT BACK ON STORIES FATHER ONCE TOLD ME OF THESE DWARVES HEROIC TALES OF HONOR AND GLORY THE OLD ONES MUST KNOW OF THESE STORIES FOR IT HAS BEEN DECIDED THAT WE WILL CHANGE COURSE UPON FIRST LIGHT I FEEL HOPEFUL THAT THE DWEMER WILL HELP US TO AVENGE OUR FALLEN AND RECLAIM OUR LAND

Diary of Faire Agarwen Translated from Falmer Text by Calcelmo of Markarth [pagebreak]

Forward The dates noted in this diary are translated literally. This verbiage matches no known modern measure of time, and is assumed to be a custom form of counting the days and months. Excavations of ancient Falmer slave quarters have turned up brass vessels, very similar to a deep bowl, with twenty markings crudely etched onto the inside. Falmer scholars theorize that this bowl would be placed under a drip of water coming from an overhanging rock and as the bowl filled, the water's level would reach these markings, thus indicating a crude passage of time. Because of this diary, the vessel has been called a "kulniir," a primitive Falmer timekeeping device. [pagebreak]

Third Marking, Tenth Kulniir It feels like years since we were forced into hiding. I dare not write where we stay for fear of endangering the good people of this house should this diary be discovered. We have been shown a kindness by this family once known to the Snow Prince. Even in death his great influence has ensured our safety. We were separated from many of our kin along the road when it became increasingly difficult to travel discreetly in our numbers. We were forced to go our separate ways and travel only at night. I have heard no news of where the others may have gone and fear I never shall. Our lives are forever changed. [pagebreak] Seventh Marking, Tenth Kulniir In the night I find it difficult not to focus on times past. There are moments in my rest when I still hear the laughter of Young Ones at play in the valley. Other times I see the pale flicker of happy moments which were once so common in the land of the Snow Elves. I try not to dwell on these memories too long. Often our surroundings make it impossible to dwell on any happiness. We have been locked together in such close quarters for so long we grow tired of each other's company. Even the strongest of us have faltered with nothing to do but think on what is lost. I wake each day to forlorn faces and am reminded of where we are and all we have left behind. We are all yearning for a day when we can emerge from hiding and walk freely in the light once more. But I fear we are losing all hope that such a day will ever come. [pagebreak] Tenth Marking, Tenth Kulniir I tire of the tears of women and children. My own have run dry. The men have begun to look upon us as if we are all weak yet we have survived the same trials as they. I cannot bring myself to think on the numbers we lost in battle. Yet I cannot force the images of my own losses from my mind. And now in a time when our people should be banding together it feels we are drifting apart. The Nords have truly won. Our once great pride and unity are shattered. If we lose hope now we will never survive. Today many, myself included, have tried to speak out in voices of reason. There can be no hope without talk of our future. We can make no difference if our spirits remain broken. [pagebreak] Eighteenth Marking, Tenth Kulniir We know that we can never again be the Snow Elves and live freely in this world. We will forever be in hiding in one form or another. But there is no reason we cannot live life with the sun and the wind against our skin. There are those here who are friends to us and plan to help us once the threat has ended. We know now to survive we must be born anew. Outside, we will appear as though we belong here. Inside, we will carry our truth and our scars.

FAIRE AGARWEN LIFE RECORD

THIRD MARKING TENTH KULNIIR IT FEELS LIKE YEARS SINCE WE WERE FORCED INTO HIDING I DARE NOT WRITE WHERE WE STAY FOR FEAR OF ENDANGERING THE GOOD PEOPLE OF THIS HOUSE SHOULD THIS DIARY BE DISCOVERED WE HAVE BEEN SHOWN A KINDNESS BY THIS FAMILY ONCE KNOWN TO THE SNOW PRINCE EVEN IN DEATH HIS GREAT INFLUENCE HAS ENSURED OUR SAFETY WE WERE SEPARATED FROM MANY OF OUR KIN ALONG THE ROAD WHEN IT BECAME INCREASINGLY DIFFICULT TO TRAVEL DISCREETLY IN OUR NUMBERS WE WERE FORCED TO GO OUR SEPARATE WAYS AND TRAVEL ONLY AT NIGHT I HAVE HEARD NO NEWS OF WHERE THE OTHERS MAY HAVE GONE AND FEAR I NEVER SHALL OUR LIVES ARE FOREVER CHANGED SEVENTH MARKING TENTH KULNIIR IN THE NIGHT I FIND IT DIFFICULT NOT TO FOCUS ON TIMES PAST THERE ARE MOMENTS IN MY REST WHEN I STILL HEAR THE LAUGHTER OF YOUNG ONES AT PLAY IN THE VALLEY OTHER TIMES I SEE THE PALE FLICKER OF HAPPY MOMENTS WHICH WERE ONCE SO COMMON IN THE LAND OF THE SNOW ELVES I TRY NOT TO DWELL ON THESE MEMORIES TOO LONG OFTEN OUR SURROUNDINGS MAKE IT IMPOSSIBLE TO DWELL ON ANY HAPPINESS WE HAVE BEEN LOCKED TOGETHER IN SUCH CLOSE QUARTERS FOR SO LONG WE GROW TIRED OF EACH OTHERS COMPANY EVEN THE STRONGEST OF US HAVE FALTERED WITH NOTHING TO DO BUT THINK ON WHAT IS LOST I WAKE EACH DAY TO FORLORN FACES AND AM REMINDED OF WHERE WE ARE AND ALL WE HAVE LEFT BEHIND WE ARE ALL YEARNING FOR A DAY WHEN WE CAN EMERGE FROM HIDING AND WALK FREELY IN THE LIGHT ONCE MORE BUT I FEAR WE ARE LOSING ALL HOPE THAT SUCH A DAY WILL EVER COME TENTH MARKING TENTH KULNIIR I TIRE OF THE TEARS OF WOMEN AND CHILDREN MY OWN HAVE RUN DRY THE MEN HAVE BEGUN TO LOOK UPON US AS IF WE ARE ALL WEAK YET WE HAVE SURVIVED THE SAME TRIALS AS THEY I CANNOT BRING MYSELF TO THINK ON THE NUMBERS WE LOST IN BATTLE YET I CANNOT FORCE THE IMAGES OF MY OWN LOSSES FROM MY MIND AND NOW IN A TIME WHEN OUR PEOPLE SHOULD BE BANDING TOGETHER IT FEELS WE ARE DRIFTING APART THE NORDS HAVE TRULY WON OUR ONCE GREAT PRIDE AND UNITY ARE SHATTERED IF WE LOSE HOPE NOW WE WILL NEVER SURVIVE TODAY MANY MYSELF INCLUDED HAVE TRIED TO SPEAK OUT IN VOICES OF REASON THERE CAN BE NO HOPE WITHOUT TALK OF OUR FUTURE WE CAN MAKE NO DIFFERENCE IF OUR SPIRITS REMAIN BROKEN EIGHTEENTH MARKING TENTH KULNIIR WE KNOW THAT WE CAN NEVER AGAIN BE THE SNOW ELVES AND LIVE FREELY IN THIS WORLD WE WILL FOREVER BE IN HIDING IN ONE FORM OR ANOTHER BUT THERE IS NO REASON WE CANNOT LIVE LIFE WITH THE SUN AND THE WIND AGAINST OUR SKIN THERE ARE THOSE HERE WHO ARE FRIENDS TO US AND PLAN TO HELP US ONCE THE THREAT HAS ENDED WE KNOW NOW TO SURVIVE WE MUST BE BORN ANEW OUTSIDE WE WILL APPEAR WE BELONG HERE INSIDE WE WILL CARRY OUR TRUTH AND OUR SCARS

Touching the Sky by Parmion Saldor

any of the most dedicated snow elves once committed themselves to a tireless journey through the Chantry to the Inner Sanctum. They carried with them the paramount desire to become one with their god, Auri-El. Though all set out with the determination to prove their worth, few were prepared for the trials that lay ahead. For the path to Auri-El was not without its tribulations. The pilgrims struggled not only against the natural elements of the treacherous vale, but with a myriad of tests upon their faith and loyalty. It is told that many simply could not continue on the path for long before turning back. Some argue that the rebuke they endured upon their return was crueler than any punishment that may have lay ahead of them along the path. In their failed attempt, they were forced to live in the shadow of those who did continue on to achieve the great glory and honor of ascension into the light. Forever after, their faith and loyalty in Auri-El would be scrutinized and their remaining days filled with shame and regret. Tales of those who reached the Inner Sanctum are not without their share of woes. It is said upon their arrival that many were mere shells of the person they had once been. Some were quite mad from sleeplessness and starved to the point of frailty. By the end of their journey, the marvel that they had strength yet to carry their vessel and ascend the stairs of the temple was the last true testament of their loyalty. Regardless of each individual's tale, the final words remain eerily similar. It is said that every pilgrim ascended, bathed in light, a look of relief and contentment on their face.

TOUCHING THE SKY PARMION SALDOR

MANY OF THE MOST DEDICATED SNOW ELVES ONCE COMMITTED THEMSELVES TO A TIRELESS JOURNEY THROUGH THE CHANTRY TO THE TEMPLE THEY CARRIED WITH THEM THE PARAMOUNT DESIRE TO BECOME ONE WITH THEIR GOD AURIEL THOUGH ALL SET OUT WITH THE DETERMINATION TO PROVE THEIR WORTH, FEW WERE PREPARED FOR THE TRIALS THAT LAY AHEAD FOR THE PATH TO AURIEL WAS NOT WITHOUT ITS TRIBULATIONS THE PILGRIMS STRUGGLED NOT ONLY AGAINST THE NATURAL ELEMENTS OF THE TREACHEROUS VALE BUT WITH A MYRIAD OF TESTS UPON THEIR FAITH AND LOYALTY IT IS TOLD THAT MANY SIMPLY COULD NOT CONTINUE ON THE PATH FOR LONG BEFORE TURNING BACK SOME ARGUE THAT THE REBUKE THEY ENDURED UPON THEIR RETURN WAS CRUELER THAN ANY PUNISHMENT THAT MAY HAVE LAY AHEAD OF THEM ALONG THE PATH. IN THEIR FAILED ATTEMPT THEY WERE FORCED TO LIVE IN THE SHADOW OF THOSE WHO DID CONTINUE ON TO ACHIEVE THE GREAT GLORY AND HONOR OF ASCENSION INTO THE LIGHT FOREVER AFTER THEIR FAITH AND LOYALTY IN AURIEL WOULD BE SCRUTINIZED AND THEIR REMAINING DAYS FILLED WITH SHAME AND REGRET TALES OF THOSE WHO REACHED THE INNER SANCTUM ARE NOT WITHOUT THEIR SHARE OF WOES. IT IS SAID UPON THEIR ARRIVAL THAT MANY WERE MERE SHELLS OF THE PERSON THEY HAD ONCE BEEN SOME WERE QUITE MAD FROM SLEEPLESSNESS AND STARVED TO THE POINT OF FRAILTY BY THE END OF THEIR JOURNEY THE MARVEL THAT THEY HAD STRENGTH YET TO CARRY THEIR VESSEL AND ASCEND THE STAIRS OF THE TEMPLE WAS THE LAST TRUE TESTAMENT OF THEIR LOYALTY REGARDLESS OF EACH INDIVIDUALS TALE THE FINAL WORDS REMAIN EERILY SIMILAR IT IS SAID THAT EVERY PILGRIM ASCENDED BATHED IN LIGHT A LOOK OF RELIEF AND CONTENTMENT ON THEIR FACE

The Aetherium Wars by Taron Dreth Dedicated to Katria, my Friend and Colleague

he end, when it came, was swift. In the span of three short years, the great dwarven cities of Skyrim, from Markarth to the Velothi Mountains, fell before the armies of the High King. Cities that had held fast against the Nords for over a hundred years crumbled abruptly and without warning. For centuries, scholars have marveled at the sudden collapse of the Dwemer city-states. Even the Nords seem to have been taken by surprise, though their chroniclers were quick to ascribe their success to King Gellir's inspired tactics and the blessings of Shor. My research suggests a much different cause, however. In the decades preceding their fall, the dwarven cities of Skyrim had been decimated by internal disputes and infighting over a most surprising cause: Aetherium. Modern scholars know Aetherium as a rare, luminescent blue crystal found in some Dwemer ruins. Most consider it little more than a curiosity, as it has proven all but impossible to work with: while it has a strong magical aura, it is alchemically inert, and no known process can enchant, smelt, mold, bind, or break it. [pagebreak] To the dwarves, of course, such problems were merely a challenge. In the years following King Harald's reign, the Dwemer discovered a considerable source of Aetherium in their deepest delvings. An alliance of four cities, led by Arkngthamz, the great research center in the southern Reach, was formed to oversee its extraction, processing, and study, and a new 'Aetherium Forge' constructed to smelt it under precisely controlled conditions. If the inscriptions I discovered are to be believed, the results were nothing short of spectacular: the items produced by the Forge were artifacts of immense power, imbued from the moment of their creation with powerful enchantments. The dwarven alliance shattered almost immediately, as the four city-states and their rivals attempted to claim the Forge. [pagebreak] We can only speculate that none were successful. Decades of conflict merely weakened them all, allowing for King Gellir's subsequent conquests. And though the Dwemer reclaimed most of their lands a century later, there is no evidence that they ever resumed their research on Aetherium. Perhaps the costs had just been too great. [pagebreak] But nothing like the Aetherium Forge described in the inscriptions has ever been found within the borders of Skyrim. It may have been destroyed long ago, by the Nord invaders or the Dwemer themselves. Or perhaps it, like the secrets of Aetherium itself, still remains to be discovered.

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Discovering Ruunvald Vol. I by Moric Sidrey

I have decided to document our expedition to find Ruunvald in my journals, with hopes that, should we fail, it will bring illumination to those who follow us. I myself have stood on the shoulders of academic giants to get where we are today, spending endless hours in libraries and private collections. I am certain that there is some artifact of great power to be found in those ruins, one that the Vigilants could find useful in their mission. I do not mean to sound pompous, but I feel as if I am on the precipice of my destiny with this quest. I am certain we are digging in the right place. I can feel it in my bones, and I dream of finding Ruunvald at night. Even in my waking hours, I can almost hear a reassuring voice telling me we are going the right way. The expedition has had a great deal of luck so far. After only a few weeks, the first tunnel broke through into a large shaft, leading downward towards where I suspect to find Ruunvald. With just a few bits of carpentry, we've established our first base camp within the mountains. If we continue to be this fortuitous, we shall reach our goal in record time!

Discovering Ruunvald Vol. II by Moric Sidrey

Our luck continues! Not only do we continue to tunnel into caves and shafts that speed our descent, but struck multiple veins of precious ore. Now that the excavation has proven to be a financial success, the Vigilants have sent more supplies, materials, and workers to further the cause. I find myself unable to contain my glee at times, and have become prone to cheerful outbursts in front of the men. One might find this very out of character for me, but the men seem to share my enthusiasm. Never before have I worked with a group so single-minded in their pursuit. To have so many people working towards the same goal with little to no deviation from the task at hand is an uncanny blessing! Stendarr be praised! With so much going well, I hesitate to document what seem like minor troubles in comparison. It must have something to do with the cramped spaces, but I have found myself prone to aches in my head. While these hardly deter me from my leadership role, I have found myself distracted at times. I have had many a conversation with the workers where I drift off, only to have them call me back to reality. Sometimes I lose small amounts of time and can't remember what I've done. I am hoping this is nothing more than excitement of reaching our goal, but I will try to keep note as we dig deeper. Perhaps a half tankard of ale before sleep will help me with these headaches.

Discovering Ruunvald Vol. III by Moric Sidrey

The damnable headaches! Minorne be merciful, I just can't seem to shake them. The workers have started to report them as well, but while their focus on conversation and civility may wane because of it, they have not swayed from their task. If anything, they seem to have doubled their efforts. I myself cannot seem to focus on anything other than the dig. I sit here now, studying some unearthed Nordic artifacts, yet I feel a nagging call to see how the dig is progressing. The other day without thinking, I picked up a shovel and started digging myself. Fortunately, no one seemed to find this unusual, which is a blessing. I'd hate for the Vigilants of Minorne to think that I'd lost my senses! As we dig, we uncover more Nordic ruins and architecture, but have yet to hit the main chamber. Everyday I dream we'll finally reach Ruunvald, and I can't help but reflect on what this will mean to my reputation! My family will be so proud, especially my father, Minorne. He and mother have always been interested in my studies, even if my sister Minorne was not. But I'm most excited to reveal my findings to my colleagues, Minorne and Minorne, and perhaps my mentor Minorne. Oh, won't they all be pleased?

Discovering Ruunvald Vol. IV by Moric Sidrey

I have found my muse and her name is Minorne. Reading back over old journals, I realize she has called to me from deep inside Ruunvald. She is the voice I've been hearing, the one who has called me ever downwards into the mountain. The Vigilants, the workers, they hear her too! What joy to learn that I am not alone in her love! Oh, Minorne, how would we have ever found this place without you! As I write this we are digging out the last bit of rock to get to you. Those without tools have started using their hands! I cannot write anymore, I must get back to work. Ruunvald awaits!

The Scripture of Minorne by Moric Sidrey

Glory be to Minorne! Glory be to the mistress of all! My life for you, oh beautiful savior! Where once my feeble ramblings seemed so grand, I now realize they are but scratches on parchment, unworthy of you. Oh, that I could properly describe you, I would write a thousand testaments to you! Damn my tiny thoughts, if only I were wiser! Minorne asks that we bring more here for her, more to worship her and do her bidding! I have sent word to the Hall of the Vigilants to come. A simple lie was told, for they would not understand. Not until they saw her, o glorious Minorne! But she is fearful! There are fools in this world that do not heed to her beautiful voice. The guard, Florentius, sent from the Beacon, he still prays to Arkay, an absentee god who pales in comparison to Minorne! I will pray to the goddess I can see! May he rot in his cage! Oh, sweet, sweet, Minorne...

Notes on Dimhollow Crypt x Vol. 3 As written by Adalvald

Divines be praised! Here at last is the breakthrough I have been seeking. All the dangers I have escaped, the traps I have eluded and the foul draugr I have avoided have brought me at last to this. In my previous volume of notes and observations regarding Dimhollow Crypt's possible connections to the ancient vampire clans of Skyrim's history, I wrote of a great chamber, far larger than anything else I've yet seen here in the crypt. Alas, a few wandering draugr forced me to retreat to the earlier passages of the crypt, thus depriving me of an opportunity to study this huge cavern. Well, praise be to Stendarr, for as I write this, I have just spent nearly a full day exploring that very cavern. It was a risk that proved more than worth it, because what I found in that chamber nearly defies description. Central to this huge cavern is an island of stone in a subterranean lake. Upon this island is something I can only describe as an elaborate ceremonial construction surrounded by stone columns linked by arches. There is no mistaking the stark contrast in architecture here; no ancient Nords made this stonework. Here, too, were more of the gargoyle statues that I first glimpsed in earlier passageways. There is no draugr burial site in Skyrim that contains these statues, save Dimhollow Crypt. Indeed, I am now certain that the strange construct in this main chamber was built long after the crypt, and by wholly different masters. These must be the same builders who placed the gargoyles through the crypt, perhaps to frighten away the curious. All signs seem to indicate that the masons who crafted these strange arches were servants of some ancient master who favored necromancy or vampirism. The style and craftsmanship in the stonework are not only distinct in terms of design, seeming to speak of an entirely different culture than that of the old Nord peoples, but also in skill with which they were fashioned. The cutting and shaping of the stone, for example, suggests more sophisticated tools than the crypt's original architects would have possessed. Although I feel a sense of exhilaration that my theories have at last been confirmed beyond any shadow of a doubt, I am also disappointed at the lack of answers. How long ago were these new features added to the crypt? And by whom? And for what purpose? On one point, I have no doubts. I must return to the Hall of the Vigilant and share these findings with my brothers and sisters. When they see what I've discovered with their own eyes, they will no longer scoff at my theories or mock my endeavors. And when that is done, I will return to my work. For now, Dimhollow Crypt might be a mystery, but by Stendarr I will see that mystery solved.

27th Last Seed Harkon's shortsightedness is becoming a serious problem. I've warned him time and time again that his foolish prophecy would cast far too much light on our people and yet he refuses to so much as listen to a word I say. I've become less a wife and more of an annoyance in his eyes. Devoting attention to my work is the only solace I can find while enduring his ridiculous crusade. 28th Last Seed I've had a breakthrough today. I was able to attune the portal vessel to the Soul Cairn properly by using a small sample of ingredients. Although the portal opened only for a few seconds, I'm confident that with the proper formula, it can be sustained indefinitely. I feel like I'm missing a key ingredient, something of sufficient potency that can resist the forces trying to prevent my intrusion. Communing with the Ideal Masters has proved worthless. They speak in riddles and offer no assistance whether I ensure them a steady supply of souls or not. If I'm to escape Harkon's clutches, I need to keep the portal open long enough to carry me away from here... forever if need be. 3rd Hearthfire I've done it! After wasting thousands of gold coins on components, I've discovered how to sustain the portal. I'm listing the components below without the proper amounts for my own protection. As a secondary precaution, I am combining my own blood into the formula which should prevent anyone from being able to duplicate it and following me into the Soul Cairn. The formula consists of: Finely ground bone meal Purified void salt Soul gem shards Using the proper measurements, place the above in the silver-lined portal vessel and add blood as a reactive agent. I will make my way into the Soul Cairn tomorrow after I gather my things and prepare for a potentially lengthy exile. More importantly, I must enact my plans with Serana, and get her to Dimhollow Crypt as soon as possible.

The Rise and Fall of Saint Jiub the Eradicator Hero of Morrowind and Savior of the Dunmer by Jiub

am a hunter. I am a redeemer. I am Jiub. The tale of my rise to glory begins in the ash wastes of Morrowind. I rode alone, weapon at my side and the burning wind stinging my face. My quest was arduous, but necessary to ensure the survival of the Dunmer people. A pestilence was creeping across the ashlands, a menace with an insatiable hunger that plagued innocent travelers simply trying to get home. It was my self-sworn task to hunt them down one-by-one and drive them from the skies. Their fury knew no bounds and their war cry resonated across the land. They were the notorious cliff racers, and they had to be destroyed. On a particularly hot day during Sun's Height, I was tracking what I called a Lingerer... a cliff racer without a nest. He was a particularly feisty one too, leading me on a merry chase across almost three miles of ash dunes. I had managed to take a piece out of one of his wings in an earlier scuffle so he couldn't maintain much of a climb, but he still had quite a bit of stamina left and he was trying to make me tire of the chase. Almost two solid hours passed and my silt strider was tiring, but I couldn't give up... I had sworn to eliminate the foul beasts to the last and I wasn't about to let it go. If I was going to stop the thing, I'd have to do it fast. I pulled my longbow from my back and nocked my last arrow. I took a deep breath and pulled, trying to keep the cliff racer in my sights. It was literally a longshot with the beast gaining distance and the silt strider bouncing me around at full gallop. Finally, with a silent prayer, I released the string. The arrow sang through the air like a howling demon as it sliced its way towards its target. Finally, just as it crested the lip of a foyada, the arrow struck it in the midsection. It let out a horrible cry and fell out of sight. My cries of triumph were quickly stifled by the sound of over a hundred wings. Rising from the foyada was an entire colony of cliff racers and they were out for blood. The blasted thing had led me right to their nest and sacrificed itself with the intent of feeding me to its brood. It was a trap. The damned things had become much too clever. Knowing this was likely the end, I jumped down from the silt strider and hit the back of its leg with the flat of my glass blade. There was no need for the innocent thing to die here today because of my stupidity. As the ash cloud cleared from being stirred up by its massive legs, the cliff racer brood approached. I held my sword high and prepared for the worst. The battle lasted two full days. I was beaten, clawed, bitten and knocked down more times than I care to remember. In the end, seventy-six cliff racers were slaughtered. I was knee-deep in their corpses and my body on the verge of collapse. But I had survived. I smiled to the heavens and all went black. When I awoke, all I felt was my back on a cold stone floor. Every muscle in my body was on fire, and my vision was blurred. Slowly, I tried to climb to my feet. It took several agonizing minutes, but I finally managed to do it. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light of my new surroundings, I realized that I was standing before Lord Vivec himself. He was simply staring at me... floating above his throne and staring at me with his piercing eyes. When I began to prostrate myself as a sign of respect, he held up one of his hands as if to say it wasn't necessary. Was I dead? Was Lord Vivec pleased with me? Was he about to strike me down in anger for my somewhat sordid past? Suddenly I understood everything. Suddenly I realized that I was brought here for a reason. I should have died in those ash wastes, but Lord Vivec must have seen something inside me that he hadn't seen in millennia and decided to spare me from my fate. Thus began my ascent to Sainthood. Thus began the rise of Jiub!