Stubborn can get you killed in Skryim.  Exploring a tomb off the road on the east side of the Throat when I met up with a Nord named Golldir.  He claimed a Necromacing mage was messing with his relatives. I tried to get him to remain behind, but he refused.  His aunt had already gone inside.  Her body was not hard to find.  The placed was filled with walking dead and supposedly a Dunmar Necromage, which I could believe.  Golldir got himself killed before we were half way down the passage ways.  At one point I was swarmed in mass and had to retreat to save my own life. 

Coming into the main chamber I came face to face with Vals Veran, a Dark Elf mage I knew by reputation only.  I was forced to retreat several times in my confrontation with him, but as I am writing this, it is obvious that I came out on the winning end. 

After clearing the chambers I headed to Whiterun.  It was the 2nd of Last Seed and summer would soon be over, such as it was.  I did some trading then went home to the Pale.  I caught 3 bandits sneaking up on the place in the twilight of the day and dispatched them.

I was welcomed by our newest resident, miss Sofie, the little orphan girl from Windhelm.  Her carriage had made good time.  She has settled in upstairs. 

I made a mention that with all the folks in the lodge I was wishing for a small place to get away too and wish something was available in Riverwood. He said he thought he knew of a small hunter's cabin that might be available.  The next morning we went up that way to see.  We were jumped by a powerful dragon outside of town which settled itself into Riverrun during the battle where it died on the banks of the White River.  The cabin itself is small and simple but homey and quiet. 

But I was thinking more and more about Thalmor.  Faen told me we should just head to Solitude and look into it ourselves.  I thought this might be worth the time so we traveled up to Dawnstar and grabbed the weekly trading ship for Solitude.  But Solitude is the seat of Imperial power in the north.  I thought to myself that I would need a cover.  And what better cover than to utilize the favor I had been asked to deliver a manuscript to the Bard's college. I have a passable voice and enjoy writing, so thought to seek entry into the Bard's College as cover for my stay there. 

We stabled the horses and secured our heavy weapons, especially the Blades sword and Glamdring, which would be too easily identifiable, and made our way into town.  But I had not brought other clothing and so showing up in heavy armor with an Alkamari blade did not make us look especially "bardish".  So the request to join the college was met with a bit of skepticism, but the fact that I arrived carrying a manuscript helped convince them of my interest in the art.  And so they tasked me with recovering a bit of verse known as "King Olaf's Verse".  Seems the current Jarl, the wife of the slain high king, has forbidden an ancient Bardic ritual, and they hope that this verse if recovered might change her mind. 

The tomb was not terribly far, laying to the south of Solitude.  I left Faen to guard the entrace and just inside spotted what could only be the ghost of a bard.  It lead me deeper into the tomb and something was obviously at work here as well given the number of walking dead I had to deal with.  I got the hint that a Dragon Priest might be here with the presence of a mural that I've seen other tombs  belonging to them. 

The ghost first lead me to a copy of Olaf's manuscript, or what was left of it.  Then it lead me to a door sealed with magic, but it opened the door.  The passage opened into a huge chamber of many chairs, each occupied by a dead body.  The ghost called out for the ghost of King Olaf claiming time for vengenance, and the dead awoke.  But this ghost was deadly.  I had very few of them I had to deal with.  And the ghost iself engaged the spirit of Olaf and with my hitting it with electricty from a distance, I'll credit the ghost with its demise.  This was the strangest battle I've been in. 

There was indeed a word wall present, but no body of a Dragon Lord, though it is possible that Olaf himself may have been one in some small fashion.  For it is myth that Olaf captured the powerful dragon Numenex and imprisioned him in Dragon's Reach in Whiterun.  But I remember reading somewhere that Olaf likely found the dragon asleep.

Back at the Bard's College I was asked to help fill in the missing details of the song, which given my previous knowledge of how Olaf really had captured the dragon and my observation that he had some power with the voice, I filled in the story of Olaf not hero but a tyrannt of treachery.  I was then asked to accompany the bard to Court to recite the song, and Jarl liked it and agreed to the festival.  I was credited as its author and my cover identity was established. 

I met two mages at court, but did not reveal my true office.  Maloran is nothing but a well paid body guard for the Jarl.  Sybille is the court wizard and I could sense strong in destruction magic.  I spoke with her on the pretext of needing content for my songs.  She was there when King Torygg was killed.  He was shouted to death by Ulfric.  The Jarl joined the conversation saying that when Ulfric gave voice to the horrible words her husband just "ceased to be".  Somehow the topic changed to a problem with vampires.  To secure the trust of the court, I offered to deal with them.  This offer was received gratefully and even before I left freed up toungues a bit.  It seems the new Jarl, young, is propped into power by the Imperial General Tullius who is trusted because there is little choice otherwise.  She does not have the support yet, but hopes to, of the other Jarl's to claim the high throne.  And of course Ulfric himself styles himself as the high king to be. 

I must confess that at first, because of the Imperial corruption, its treatment of me, its alliance with the Thalmor, I had been sympathetic to Ulfric.  But Ulfric is a narrow minded Nord racist.  And he took the knowledge of the word that had been taught him for spiritual purposes and used it to kill a man who was the legitimate high king.  And this young woman, at least now, seems to have a noble heart.  If she could be freed of Imperial influence and the Thalmor expelled, I think she would be good for the people of the north.  This civil war is a mess.

That night the bards held their festival.  I was publicly inducted into the college. 

The next day Faen and I traveled out to deal with the vampires.  I hate vampires.  Got ourselves into the middle of a battle in Dragon Bridge against an Elder Dragon. Huge mean beast.  I found myself running several times as the sting of my lightening frayed its hide and it swooped down upon me.  The battle was not without casualties, several Imperial soldiers were killed. 

There turned out to be only 3 vampires in the nest.  None were that difficult to dipatch.

Returning to Court I overheard conversation about problems in a place called Wolfskill.  My ears perked up at the word "necromancy".  Seem the place has a history or legend of being associated with the art from 500 years ago, but people have not forgotten and won't go near.  But folks have seen activity there.  I offered to look into this, easy way to gain trust, and good cover because of there are Necromages there I intend to enforce the Codex. 

On the road up heading north toward the coast, I was attacked by an unarmed Orc of all things, but he was mad with rage.  Don't know what his problem was, but he wouldn't respond and we had to kill him to preserve our safety. 

Into the cave I quickly discovered a vast cavern home to a sprawling fortress and oh boy... more than I bargained for.  The place quivered with energy.  It almost felt like the Orb of Magnus had rematerialized.  The power vibrated into my very bone. Faen paled.  I had him remain near the top and ventured in.  Someone was raising something, a dragon lord perhaps. 

Powerful walking dead tried to hinder me.  Twice I was forced to retreat at risk of my own life.  But finally I put down down these wrestless spirits and saw the flow of power for myself.  And I heard the words of evil and vile incantations calling forth a spirit named Potema. 

I stopped the ritual before completion.  The Necromages are no more.  This is why I wrote the Codex.  This evil and this danger for the pure lust of power must be purged. 

I returned to the Blue Palace and I gave my report.  It caused great concern and a measure of appreciation and respect. Almost I revealed my office, but something about the court mage puts me off, so I held my tounge. 

Faen and I that evening entered the Thalmor HQ.  No one was there.  But several books present indicated they have a history of sticking their nose into politics of foreign land and their holier than thou attitudes are really just a mask for power and tyranny. 

I had found all I thought I could find, so Faen and I took off back south east, stopping in Whiterun to do a bit of trading then back to the Pale. 

We arrived in the afternoon and behold Sofie was outside playing and a giant was sneaking up on the place.  I called my entire small band out and quickly slew it before it could harm the girl.  She had been clueless of danger. 

 After the battle we found her upstairs in her bedchamber.  I had a strong discussion with my warriors about keeping an eye on a certain little girl in my absence.

Truths revealed

I returned to the Pale estate.  I doesn't feel like home in the way the my little house the sea felt like home, but with my new friends here it is cozy enough and safe.  I gifted Ornmund with the Dragon Scaled Armour that I had found.  He looks rather dashing if I do say so myself.

He and I traveled into Whiterun to do some trading.  I walk with less concern about the dangers of the land these days.  Powerful friends and powerful armor coupled with the returned strength of my gift and my sword arm has empowered me. 



From there we passed up the river to Riverwood and I found Faen in town, having recently returned from a hunting trip.  I surprised him with a gift of a complete set of Marcalite Elven Armour, the great light armor creation of the elvish race in this time.

We enjoyed a nice evening together in the local pub.  I really like Riverwood and wish I had a home here.

The next morning we traveled up the mountain to discover the location of the ruins I had seen from the heights of High Hrothgar.  It took some doing but we finally located the place. Faen had never been here, but said it was rumoured and named Skywatch Pass.  I had the two of them stand guard as I looked around.  Thinking it might be home to a Dragon Lord I found instead it was home to a nest of bandits.  A tunnel through the mountain lead to a watch tower.  It would appear this was a complex designed to look north to defend the heights of the mountain.  May be that the elder monks took the complex they now occupy from an more ancient time. 

We spent the night of the 27th of Sun's Height back in the Inn in Riverwood.  I approached the Inn Keeper after settling my two friends for the night, and asked for a private room in the attic.  She looked at me curiously and said no such room existed but she did have a room for me.  I had just settled down when she knocked upon my door.  She is the one who had the horn which she readily gave to me but more.  She lead me down into a secret room below the Inn.  And she shared much.

She is a part of a group, one of the few remaining.

I suspect she is a blade.  After the death of Martin and my deposition as Archmage of the Citadel, the ruling elite of the Council of the Imperial City had after a brief series of battles orchestrated a piece with the Thalmor.  The Blades must have resisted such and been targeted to be wiped out, and so now must exist very much in secret.


She believes the Thalmor are behind this.  She sees political gain for them by keeping the empire disstablized and so facilitating a rebellion in the north against the empire.  She believes the Thalmor seek to hold all the land and may be looking for something in particular.

She also told me the dragons are not returning from some other land, nor are they being birthed from well long hidden eggs, but are coming back to life again, being brought back by something.  She said many of the dragons that have been slain have been known to have been slain in previous ages.  And their burial mounds are empty.  So the round mounds I have notice all over the north are dragon burial sites.  In fact, the dragon stone, that I recovered for the Jarl of Whiterun from the Barrow in my first days in the north, is a coded map of their locations.  Delphine believes there is a pattern and the next resurrection will occur near Kynesgrove across the river from Windhelm in the Eastmarch. 

She left the room and I was free to explore her hidden cove and behold I found what I think is proof and perhaps a gift left behind.  An well crafted blade saber akin to the saber given to me in the past when I first had been adopted by them as a fellow guardian of Martin the Emperor.

On the 28th of Sun's Height Faen and I set out east.  Having been told by the librarian of the College that more writings of Shalidar might be foundin Muskavar, we stopped there.  Rogue mages had set up and would not submit to the Codex so I brought justice to them. 

Kynesgrove was not difficult to find once crossing the river.  As Faen and I entered town, a young woman ran up to me and exclaimed that a dragon had flown up to the ancient old dragon mound on top of the ridge.  I left Faen to watch over the village and made my way carefully up the hillside. Delphine was already there and horror awaited.

The huge black dragon was hovering over the mound speaking dread words of evil and power calling the dead to life.  This is not Martin, it can't be.  This thing is something else.  And it is ancient, powerful, intelligent.  It is not a beast but something more.  I can see this is one of those ancient Fire Drakes birthed of those fallen demons of the first ages of creation. May be with power like this it is the first.  Black.  Massive.  Powerful.

And the Black Dragon raised the dead.  A skeleton shambled forth and took on flesh and power.  And they spoke to one another.  And then the Black Dragon spoke to me.  It knew I was there.  I rose and stood open and cleared and defied it, but it refused me, claiming me fool and of not threat.  And then it sent its newly raised minion to destroy me.  It too spoke to me, naming itself Sahloknir.

But my armor and my gift is strong and it underestimate me.  Sahloknir will not rise again, not this time.

There on the mountain side Delphine admitted she is indeed a survivor of the Blades, one of the few after the Thalmor sought to hunt them down when they went into league with corrupt ruling council that now governs the Emperial City and the Empire.  She strongly believes this all points to the Thalmor.  She said she was off to seek out information regarding this angle.  I could not constrain her.

Faen and I spent the night in town in the Inn.  A mage named Drayynea was there.  I shared the Codex for the Mages of the North with her.  She will follow it.  She is from Morrowind, part of the exodus escaping great tragedy there.

The next morning  I followed up on a tale I had overheard the night before.  While the locals didn't know all that took place on the hillside above, they had heard the roars and smelled the fire and had seen the black dragon fly.  And tounges wagged.  I learned that some hunters had seen a dragon flying near a place called Bonestrewn Crest.  Talk of this dragon had also been about the courts of Windhelm, so I decided to see if a dragon had nested there.  It had.  And my suspicions that they are guarding ancient sites of power is proving correct. No Dragon Lord lay here, but a word wall was here.

I traveled down to Windhelm to announce that two dragons had been killed just south of town.  But that was not the only killing.  A young lady had been killed as well, part of her body missing.  It would appear the court mage is not the guilty party.  I visited with Wuunferth in his cage, and he said that he had never kept a journal and knew the amulet as a Necromancer amulet of legend with great power.  He thinks the person has a pattern and should strike soon.  And he thinks the person is seeking parts from the strongest of the races and so predicted he would strike in the Stone Quarter and go for a woman.  Seems it is almost always women who are targeted.  I kept watch in the cold of the first night in town deciding this must stop.  And saw nothing.  It was frigid and snowing.  The locals stayed in.  The next day I grabbed a meal in the Dunmar district hearing the familiar complaints of discrimination and hatred by the Nords and especially their leader.  And I was concerned as I saw Imperial Legion Armor and weapons stashed on shelves there.  It would not surprise me if they were to help in some up rising.  The discontent is large.  Then I walked back to the Stone Quarter to explore and grow more familiar with the area of the next night when I hard a scream.  The murder had struck in daylight in open sight.  I ran him down and as there was no doubt took his life.  It was Calixto.  Examining his house I found plenty of evidence.  He was embalming tools and in a journal written to a dead lover claimed he was near to creating a new body for her spirit.  Forbidden arts.  Dark evils.  A warped mind.  I contacted Jorlief the warden of Windhelm to release the mage.

I stayed that night in the Inn in Windhelm.  Had a nice long conversation with a pleasant local by the name of Brunwolf.  He agreed that Ulfric Stromcloak is a "Nord only" leader and overlooks the needs of the other races, including bandits who have been assaulting caravans of elves and Kajits.    He shared the location of their nest.

So on the 31st I departed Windhelm to enter the nest of bandits on the 1st of the new month. As I left, I was stopped by a young orphan selling flowers.  Her parents were both dead and this was how she got food. I gave her some coin, then thought better of this.  I hired a local Nord woman, as trade here is limited due to the civil war, and a carrage and sent the child to the Pale estate with a letter to take her in and care for her until my return.

Then I proceeded to the outlaw den.  

 There were about a dozen in those ancient caverns and they had caged lions for some reason.  Their leader wasn't much of a warrior.  I had left Faen to guard the entrance should any try to run.  Upon my exit the great Black Dragon was circling and calling rage at me, but would not draw near.

Does it fear me?

In the West

Headed west for Karthwasten.  Hear it is a village in the far western foothills.  Delivering a sword to an Orc forgemaster's daughter as promised.  Excuse for visiting the region as I haven't been there berore.    Passing by "Meeko's Shack" I peeked in, the dog is there and seems happy. Happier than with us at the estate I guess.  Missing his master I suppose.  I did find another one of those circle mounds near his home.  They are all over.

The path was obstructed by a fort filled with highwaymen that I had to deal with.  They had been hitting caravans in the area, and from a diary by the captain, been making a bit of coin.  I liberated a good portion of it, including his stash on a small island.  I passed into the village of Karthwasten and gave the sword to the Orc.  The mayor there shared with me that the town's mine was being occupied by hired swords who were sent by a local banking guild to deal with Forsworn in the area, but now they would not surrender it.  He believes the guild is trying to steal their land.  I told him I would talk to their leader and see what I could do.  All muscle and no brain, but smart enough to not tangle with me.  I went in expecting there could be a fight, but in the end they ran with tales tucked between their legs at the least bit of armed resistance.  Though I must admit, Glamdring coupled with my new Arcane Mage Armour probably is discouraging to most.

Coming back down to town I could not help but notice the dragon ruins on the mountain above the village.  There was a lower burial vault home to 3 outlaws who were not intimidated by my arms. Up the hill was a camp filled with Forsworn.  The battle was hot and heavy and not certain. But the dynamic changed when a dragon showed up and began to attack.  I withdrew and let them fight it out.  Then when the animal was weaker I attacked with ranged shots of lightening and it retreated. This is the first time I've seen a dragon run.  Some Forsworn remained, but not enough that I could not deal with them. 

Passing through the ruins I couldn't see anything of great substance. Coming out on top of a tower and looking across the flat ridgeline I could see another tower in the distance and what looked like could be a tomb.  I made for the tomb to discover this was the burial place of "Red Eagle".  Red eagle is a huge mythic hero in these parts and I thought worth taking a look into his resting place.  I had taken a unique sword from one of the outlaws below, and it turned out this sword, inserted into a slot in a pedastal, opened the door to his tomb.  And Red Eagle was awake, his ghost a Draguir, whatever force at work in the north impacting him as well.  But he is awake no more.

In a chest near the resting place I found an amazing piece of light armour made out of dragon scales.  It was obviously very old, but yet supple and strong.  This will make a fine gift for one of my friends, as I prefer heavy armor. 

I traveled back east passing into Morthal only to find that I needed to remain a few days as I had come down with something.  A local healing woman creatively said I had "brain rot".  Maybe she was right, but I had the most horrendous headache and could hardly touch the source for it. 

After a few days I felt better and headed on eastward to the tomb of Jurgen to retrieve the horn for the old graybeards atop Mt. Hrothgar.  There was a Necromancer there with two body guards.  I was not sure why they were there, but I had not trouble enforcing the law of the Codex of Mages.  The place felt familiar.  I think I've been here before.  Indeed there are bodies of bandits here that I think I had a run in with the last time.  But passing deeper I heard a live voice in a battle with a Draguir who was able to use a corrupted form of the word.  There were two of them and they killed the mage who the human voice had belonged to.  I killed the Draguir. 

I had not been into the depths of this place though, having missed a passage in the past.  Deep down I discovered a word wall with a very creative gift: the for a short time to become pure spirit and leave the material plane.  But a very short time. 

But the horn lay safely locked behind three gates that would only open if you stood about 15 lengths before them.  But they would close by the time you were upon them.  Then I remembered the word for speed taught to me by the monks.  Suddenly it began to make sense, why that word, why this test. And it worked.  The word carried me through the gates with no issue.  I passed through the passageways and there was no major threat.  Coming into a large hall it was obvious this was the resting place of the horn, indeed columns with dragon heads rose upon my arrival, and I expected to be dealing with some dread horror any moment.  But dread horror did not arise, only great surprise.  No horn was there, only a note to come to Riverwood to the Inn and ask for the attic room.

What was this about?  I wasn't about to just go blundering into Riverwood not knowing what was coming.  So I resolved to head to the estate via the pass over the Hjallmark mountains to take some allies with me.  Near the Dagon Temple I sensed the presence of demonic forces and reasoned the wards must have weakened. Sure enough. Two Dremora were outside and another and his priest inside.  And they were strong, but not strong enough. 




I came down to the estate bearing gifts.  Dragon armor for Onmund and a complete set of glass armor (courtesy of some outlaws) for Faen the next time I see him.

Into the Depths

Passing through Dawnstar I learned that Seren, the wife of Rustleif had been killed by a dragon along with several sellswords that had been hired to augment the local militia.  I continued through the village that was wrapped in grief, up the coast toward Winterhold.  Strange fires drew my attention and I discovered the body of a woman who had a book with the name Ysirra inside its cover.  A blood trail lead up a cravasse and I followed it into a cave.  I found another body, with a letter from Isabelle to someone saying she'd be home soon from Hob Fall and with something that would make them rich. 

The cave turned out to be full of Necromancer rogue mages, folks I need to deal with anyway.  And I found a strange flute with the name Panetta engraved in very small delicate runes.

Traveling up the coast I saw dragon ruins on an island to the north of the College.  On a map in the college the place is named "Sky Temple".  I decided a quick diversion might be worth what might be found there.

There was a wrestless Dragur deathlord there, awake and aware.  But my new mage armour is holding up well and it was not that difficult to put down.  And indeed, a small treasure was found, an ancient codex written by an elf from long ago entitled "Before the Age of Men".  More insight into the ancient days. 

I arrived at the College the afternoon of the 4th of Sun's Height.  It should be summer in south, but a blizzard was blowing in here.  The north chills one to the bone.  Too much cold and too much snow.

Tolfdir met me in my quarter having heard of my arrival and shared a missive had come from the Earl of Whiterun seeking help, that strange anomolies were active there.  Tolfdir suspects further consequences of the Orb of Magnus.  I'll look into it when I am next there. 

Phinis came to me as well.  There are students missing still.  Out on a research mission, they should have returned weeks ago.    And he shared that rumours still abound about Fallion in Morthal causing disturbances.  I may have to look in on him when I am next there, but I suspect this is still just rumour and local bias against our school.  Especially since Fallion is a practicioner of Conjuration. 

Pondering on Fallion and the rest, I decided it was indeed time for order to be instilled over the College.  I spent that evening writing the Codex for the Mages of the North.  The Mages Guild and the Arcane University have long exercised a measure of control over the practice of the gift within the empire,but in the north the distance has allowed somewhat too much autonomy. 

Codex of for the Mages of the North
As ordained by Julian of the Sky, Archmage of the College of Winterhold,
of the blood of elf and man
holder of the sacred sword Glamdring
Known by the faithful as the rightful Archmage of the Arcane University
Hero of Bruma, Rightful heir to Battlehorn Castle,
Named Dova'kim by the Monks of High Hrothgar
Dragonborn

I hereby inscribe the following code for all mages practicing in the north in the land known as Skyrim.  Let it be known to all practicioners of the gift, that all who touch the source in this land are hereby under this code. 

The use of the source must be utilized for justice and the ultimate good for all.  The use of the source to cause harm, bodily injury, or death against living sentient races is only in dire necessity to safeguard one's own life or the life of others.

Forbidden is the art of necromancy.  The penalty is death.
Forbidden is the opening of portals to demonic realm that the fallen demons might have access to work in this world.  The penalty is death.
Tolerated but strongly discouraged is the binding of demonic forces for the pursuit of justice when they are already present in this world.
Conjuration of familiars of this world is tolerated but not encouraged.
Forbidden is the art which seeks to alter a sentient living races mind and gain control and turn them into murderous individuals.  Tolerated is the touch of soothing when used to preserve life.
Healing of all kinds is encouraged.
Transmutation of ore is tolerated but not for unnecessary selfish gain.
The use of the gift for the destruction of the undead and other evil spirits is lawful.

The next morning I gathered the mages present in council and presented the codex.  It went over like a bag of iron ore, but they know I am serious.  And they see  the logic and necessity.  I tasked our librarian with making copies and sending them to all the Holds in the north and by letter to all known mages in the north.

He had a discovery for me, a book on the Dragon Wars of old.  It would appear the dragons were a strong power already tied to some of the rebellious elves (from the Isle of Bliss, though this place is not mentioned in the book) when the first men appeared.  And the first men rapidly fell under the sway of these dragons.  And the first men worshipped these fallen demonic creatures and some of the men were made lords... dragon lords.  And given some of the power of the dragon, hence their ability to use a corrupted form of the word.  These lords turned into tyrannts as their long life weighed heavy on them, and some men rebelled.  The book says that Akatosh, another name I believe though bastardized, for the All-Father, granted to some the gift of the Word.  And that some of the spirits (here named dragons I suspect they were not dragons but the unfallen guardians of the realm of bliss) aided men in their battle against the dragons and they gained the upper hand, so that the most powerful of the lords were slain, but the war raged.  And so these lords were entombed in ancient halls.  And the dragon as they fell were buried by their faithful followers in mounds.  (This explains the circle mounds allover the north.)  Eventually the remnants of the dragons fled and humanity was free.

The atmosphere of the college was bit frosty after publishing the Codex for Mages of the North.  One of the mages came to me to further make his case on a research proposal regarding ancient dwarf machines, but he needs materials.  I thought this might be an interesting diversion, so offered to retrieve these myself.  I knew of ruins not far, Alftand.  I had been into them before.  And I have been desiring of late to reexplore the known Dwarf ruins looking to see if there is a door or entrance hidden into a massive underground city as some legends suggest.

Entering Alftand I found the bodies of other researchers, don't know where from.   Several collections of notes were laying around and made mention of deep tunnels and hinted cities below the tunnels and wonderings if somehow all the passageways were somehow connected.  There were plenty of active metal machines as well and some evidence of Falmer as I proceeded inside.  Deeper there was indeed a thriving Falmer colony complete with hives, forges, and supply collections.  Then I came upon ramps, diving deep into the caverns, spiraling down and down. 

I found a dead Orc and a dead Elf and even dead Falmer, pierced with Ebony arrows.  Someone else had been this way and probably not part of the researches from above.  Deep below, coming finally to the end of the ramps was a door with runes carved above, "Alftrand Cathedral".  It was guarded by a fully functional metal man who came at me hard and furious.  Fortunately I was faster, and it succumbed to fire after a battle of some time.  

Deeper inside two people were found, arguing and coming to blows with one another.  I endeavored to watch but was seen and they both turned upon me and I had to take them down to defend myself.  From their gear I ascertained their names as Sulla Trebatius and Umana.  They were fighting over a dwarven mechanism of some kind, but what is its nature and how to activate it escaped me.  It appeared to be lacking a key or some other kind of device.    One thing in abundance though were the Dwarven cogs needed by the mage Arniel.  An elevator provided quick access to the surface.

Returning to the college, Arniel welcomed the cogs but said that Ethnir had something he needed.  Ethnir being stubborn as always would not name for me what the item was nor surrender it but offered to trade it for a staff.  We'll see.

Possibilities - threads coming together

The morning of the 28th dawned bright and fair.  It looked promising for a treck up the 7,000 stairs.  By noon I was on high ridges looking down the in the valleys to the north.   A few hours later I had made it high enough to enter the permanent snow line and by mid afternoon had reached the Skyforge, the place I had to turn back before.  The weather was holding so I pressed onward. 

The views are astounding.  There are rugged mountains to the north and what appears to be the tower of some ancient fortress that I think I would like to visit sometime in the future.  Along the way there have been etched monuments telling a story of the war between men and dragons.  There is reference to a master dragon named Alduin who was opposed by early men who were gifted supposedly by a god with the power of voice and so able to fight the dragons on their own terms. 

The trail wound around the mountain and on the west side looking down toward where I suspect Riverwood would be, clouds obscuring the valley below, I saw substantial dragon ruins on the ridges above the town.  These too I shall have to look into.  Especially with them so close to town.

By the 9th hour of the evening I bedded down below an overhang on the west side of the mountain and slept with one eye open as I had encountered both bear and trolls on the journey up.  I was up early on the 29th and resumed my climb.  By the 9th hours of the morning a snow storm had moved in, but I was not about to pushed off the mountain again.  I pressed on.

At 1030 the fortress of High Hrothgar came into view.  The storm had let up some.  And I kept a promise I had made to my friends still waiting the Pale estate.  I lit a beacon using my gift with fire.  I don't know if the can see it from here through what is left of the storm, but I set a pillar on fire with the strongest fire I have.  And proceeded to meet the monks.

Only one would speak with me.  Arngeir, eldest of the Graybeards.  I stayed several days with them. For an imposing building, it is austere and their accommodations humble.  They are not used to guests.  He instructed me further in the theory behind the word which they call "the voice" and helped me to expand my ability in one area of the pure projection of force.  And he spoke to me of what he knew. 

He too shared the legend that men were first gifted with the power of the voice by the gods, indeed he named the god Kynereth but also referenced it being a gift of Akatosh himself, which in northern legends appears to be a varient (though corrupted) for the All-Father.  He said there was time when the dragons ruled over men and some of them were empowered with the power of dragons to become lords and its was these lords who first brought order the early human settlements in the north, but in the end brought tyranny.  Which began a war, at first brutal against the rebels, but the gods had mercy (according to legend) and the power of the voice was given to give humans a chance.

I learned there is one more monk here, Paarthurnax, but he will not see me, at least not now.  I was given a test, to retried a mighty horn from the burial site of Jurgen.  Perhaps with the horn, he may see me. 

When asked about the origin of dragons and their ability with the word or the voice as he calls it, Arngeir could only say that they were always able to shout.  It is somehow an expression of their very nature. 

Given there was not truly comfortable place to sleep, I spent the evening exploring the halls and reading books.  In a dusty corner, laying looking as it if it had not been touched since the place had been built, was an ancient tomb written in an ancient tounge and it revealed much.  Much that starts to make sense.

It spoke of the first coming of men to these lands and is written by an elvish scholar of the time, who it appears had little love for men.  But the story began before man came.  It began in a place of bliss and light and joy.  The elves where here first and had been brought from the north to a land of bliss and light because the north had been invested with evil by a rebellious high servant of the Creator who out of jealousy sought domination of all.  (This sounded quite familiar to what my elf friend had shared in Windhelm.)  These evil lord, named Morgoth in the tomb's ancient ruins, had attacked the land of light itself and darkened it.  And the high elvish lord Feanor had learned that the gods themselves conspired against the elves to take from them their great greatest creations to restore the light of their world.  But in the midst of the struggle came word that Morgoth had assailed the homes of the elves as well and their rings of light were stolen, and hence began the exodus of the elves from the land of bliss to the land of sorrow, the land of the north.  For they journeyed to make war on the Dark Lord and reclaim their rings.  But more they had learned that a new race was coming, a race of men, and they believed the gods had pulled them from the north robbing them of lands and destiny. 

As I pondered this I could not help but believe that there is likely some truth and some aberration. I have no doubt there was once and may still be a Dark Lord.  And it would seem right that All-Father would take action to preserve his creatures.  But that there are many gods is known to be false among those most skilled in the ancient books for these myths are more recent.  And if the guardians of that blessed realm, who I suspect were created agents of the All-Father, opposed the elves it was because of their folly.  I continued reading.

The story grew sketchy, but it appears a long war was raged in the North in which the rings were lost but a measure of victory was won.  But one interesting fact came to the surface.  That war was invested with great power and magic.  The enemy did not just use sword and twisted creatures, but had mighty fire spirits, corrupted guardians, named Balrog.  And he employed magic, power.  This would make sense.  If the high evil spirits were once noble creatures, they would have been gifted with the source by their nature.  And if as other legends have shared with me that dragons were created as a merging of these fallen Fire Lords and elves and possibly men then that is would explain the dragons inborn ability with word/voice.  Corrupted but essential to their nature.

So a war where the source flowed in twisted ways torn apart and reshaped the north.  It certainly looks it.  Rugged.  Rough.  Land pushed up and torn down.  And it could explain why here in the north this power is still present for "the dragon born".  The power may still resonate in the very rocks and mountains which absorbed so much punishment in this war.  Here the power of the source, the Word, the Voice was once used in a great battle between darkness and light. 

I have to wonder if the guardians were involved.  Other legends speak of guardians, servants of the All-Father, seven or nine, the story is mixed, who were sent in the form of men to battle the remaining Dark Lords (not Dragon Lords) but likely these fallen spirits of the All-Father that remained after the defeat of the Dark Lord, here name Morgoth.  How he was defeated I know not.  I suspect the guardians themselves became involved.  For how one of the races, elves or men, could prevail against a creature whose very nature is linked at its core with the source, is impossible to tell.  It may be that the dragons were a remnant of this war.  It may be that the gift of the source in the form of understanding the nature of the source and laws that bind the very fabric of reality, what we call "The Word" what the monks call "The Voice" was gifted to men and possibility elf, by the All-Father, probably through a guardian or representative, for the pure survival of the races, and the ability remains limited but yet present in our bloodlines. 

 I had learned all I could learn here for now.  To remain was to shelter from danger and destiny.  I descended the steps and returned home to prepare for a journey to the College.  I needed to read more and I felt that perhaps I could unlock there more understanding of the gift and the Word.  Perhaps.