Study Notes

From book by Nervelus, librarian of the Empire, priest of moth

The author it appears became a priest of the moth cult.  I remember coming across their temple somewhere north of Bruma, but could not enter.   But from this writing it would appear they in their possession ancient scrolls, many and mysterious.  The book does not reference content of the scrolls, but it does mention that at moment there were 14 then 18.  Space shifted around them.  They could be located at the same time in different places.  As for content, only that they were specific prophecies related to particular time periods.  But if space is shifting around the scrolls, is time shifting as well.  Hmmm.  This would explain why you can't enter the temple of moths and why their priests blind themselves.  Dangerous power.  Dangerous nexus.  But perhaps in the elder scrolls, or maybe what is know of them would be safer, are hints about what it means to be dragon born.

All I know is that the line of the emperors, especially the Septims, have been called dragon born because of the connection to the manifestation of the Creator known as Akatosh in the common tongue.  The God who is One, who was, is, and always will be.  Some claim he is the king of gods or the first born of gods.  But I suspect he is unborn, always existing, and that there are no other gods but rather the others are his creation and his servants, some gone rogue.    In the south Akatosh is known as the dragon god of time.  But if he is the creator of all then he would be the creator of all including time.  But what is this connection with dragons.

And most significant is the merging of the blood of the One with the human Alessia and her child.  And the amulet powered by his blood which kept the realm of demons at bay until humans turned their back on the covenant.

Maybe answers could have been found in the Temple of the One, but it destroyed in the battle between Dagon and Martin whom Akatash had blessed.

From the child's story book: Aevar Stone-Slinger

The story goes that an ancient people the Skaal where among the first the Creator named "All Maker" had made.  But they forgot God and the Adversary was watching and sought to torment the Creator through torment of his children.  Unholy beasts, disease but a strange legend:

A the end the adversary will be named Thartagg the World-devoureer.  But in this story he lived among them and looked like them and was known as the "greedy man".  This greedy one had stolen the gifts of the Creator, but our hero wins them back with the guidance of the All Maker and the greedy one is banished.  At least until the time he comes to devour the world.  Curious...

From the scroll:  Alduin is Real

A poorly written note:  claims a story of his father that Akatosh is not not Alduin - a dragon... known in northern lore from older times.  And that some thing they are the same because of their appearance as dragons, but this writer says they are not the same.  He says there was time Alduin tried to "rule" the north and mighty heroes killed him.  His reasoning is hard to argue against:  Akatosh is good, Alduin was evil.

But who is Alduin?  Is this story connected to the dragons.  If so, I have not been seeing Martin...

And Martin is likely dead.

 I spoke with the mage asking if he knew of any other key books or scrolls to read regarding dragons and the Imperial reign.  He suggested I look up the Dragon War by Bjorik.

Tomorrow I shall return to the college and its library and see what can be found.

Time to study

The inn here in Winterrun is quite cozy.  Perhaps it is the raging winter outside as the is falling fast and furious.  It is so thick I cannot see the towers of the college from here.  A nice feeling of insulation.  No one looking at me so far with strange eyes as the "dragonborn" one.  The word I have also heard used, "Dovahkiin" the source of which I am uncertain. In ancient Sindar it would have been Amlungonnen.  But few can read Sindar anymore.  Perhaps no one in the north.  It was a dying fascination in the Citadel.

There is mage here I find fascinating. He claims to have been removed from the college.  But I wonder of his story.  I was in his room last night and he carefully hidden in a shelf a staff.  I could sense it had no power but a history.  A staff of status perhaps.  And he has books, a few, not many, but important books that I've seen nowhere else.  He is allowing me to read them.  So I will examine these before heading the hill as they say.

Already a small glimmer has given me an insight into the gift that I never had while at the Citadel.  That some had the ability to a greater or lesser degree to work with fire or light or even the power of lightening, to help the body heal, even in rare cases to firm the surface of water so that it could be walked upon...this was taken for granted at the Citadel.

My dreadful experience in the temple of the hill, now dedicated to guardian Mara by my repentant priest (if he is such), touched something in me.  The part I remember was clear.  I was transported in space - not far but clearly from one location to another.  It was like fabric had been folded over the corners that were opposite now touched and merged.  But not just space, the truly disorienting part was time.  Time folded.  I was in two times or no time.  Was it real?  Was it vision?  I don't know but time folded.  Present became past and past became present.  This is what had me so off kilter as I left the temple.  The clock was broken.  The laws that govern the world for a short time were corrupted until recovered.

The world is fluid and perhaps to its destruction.  But the world is fluid.  Messing with time seems very foolish and dangerous.  But space, I thought perhaps that might be useful, and in the ingestion of that potion, I sensed a hint of a power.  Using the enchanter I conducted an experiment and I was able to change the small space inside one of my belt packs.  It is as though it became a closet.  I expexperimented with an orkish sword I've been carrying as well as my mace.  Both went in handily and came out...into a small space smaller than the book I had been reading.  This will come in handy the next time I find a bunch of bandits sitting on stolen property that I could sell in a local village.  And I think on such a small and localized use, it is a safe use of the gift. Time I will leave alone!

A Terrible Day

In Dawnstar it occured to me as I was pondering over a mug of ale in the local inn, that perhaps the appearance of the orb and the appearance of dragons are somehow connected.  I don't know how, but the timing is coincidental. 

I decided to stop in and introduce myself to Jarl Skald, the local thayne here.  He said there have been no reports of dragons this far north, but he has heard the stories of dragons in the southern reaches.  He said the dragons were here because Talos the ascendent man is angry at the Imperial occupation of these lands.  I think he may be stretching this a bit.  There are many who claim the elevation of Talos is a myth.  Skald is all in for the "stormcloak rebellion".  I find it interesting that the name "storm" surfaces when only a while ago I was pondering if somehow storms are connected to the coming of the dragons. 

Returning to the Inn I struck up a conversation with a mage that I had spoken to the night before by the name of Erandur.  He didn't know anything about dragons and little about the rebellion, but he had strong opinions about why so many people are having nightmares here.  He claims it has nothing to do with the uncertainty of the times, but is rather a manifestation of a demonic presence that is centered in a temple just above the town.  He even claimed that there was a cult to this demonness and that a number of orcs had invaded the temple to destory her, but were put fast asleep through magic. 

This sounded too much like another demonic incursion.  Dragons and orbs could wait.  More gates between the created realm and the demonic could not be allowed to spawn as they had in the south.  And I recalled the flame demon I had seen not far from Riverrun.  So I journied with him to the temple.

I wish I had not.  We found the orcs waking from their sleep and the temple guardians as well, their minds twisted through years of nighmarish sleep.  I found the source of evil in an artifact shielded beyond an impenetrable barrier.  It was then that Erandur revealed himself to be a former disciple of the same cult but he claimed to have repented of his action and was not dedicated to the destruction of the artifact and the influence of the demonness. 

He induced me to drink of a potion that would transform me through space and time and allow me to penetrate the barrier.  My hatred of the demonic is such that I took the chance and so consumed.  I recall visions of the assault on the temple and how the barrier was put into place.  Erandur claims that I passed through the barrier, retrieved the gem and freed the soul powering it, and that together we proceeded to the inner sanctum finding ourselves face to face with two of his former friends who were still guarding the artifact.  He claims that I saved his life, and that though he was gravely wounded, was able to speak the safe words to lift the ward around the artifact enabling him to destroy it. 

I remember nothing of it.  I remember only coming out of the vision, retrieving the stone, and then waking up near the upper levels where we had somehow together made it.  Of the battle I remember nothing.  I was tired, achingly so, as if I had been engaged in hours of long study.  I felt a level of frustration that I had not felt since entering the north, as if it had almost been for naught.  I felt as if I had to force myself to move forward, the it was not safe behind, but corruption was back there and threatened to consume my future and destiny.  I was jumpy and eager to get out of there before the world crashed in around me.  Even outside I felt as though the world could crash at any moment.  Erandur offered me his services, and invited me to return to the temple to seek him out, but I don't know if I'll ever want to return to that temple of corruption.  For some reason I feel as if the entire world that I know here could unravel through what was may remain inside.

I was exhausted and stayed the night in Dawnstar, but early left eagerly putting the town behind me this time.  Heading east for the college.  Late in the day I spotted a lighthouse in the distance and hoped for a warm bed and meal.  But I found a dead horse in the road and two dead people inside.  And evidence of some monster in the cellars.  I decided to leave well enough alone at this time.  I've have had enough diving into dark places for the time being.  So my mount and I continued east. 

The night was cold but clear.  And we road through the night.  These northern mounts are nothing if not all heart.  Nearing the pass for Winterrun I spotted a shirtless man running at full tilt in our direction.  Drawing near I could see why.  Two ice wraiths were attacking.  Before I could reach him he was dead.  My gift of fire destroyed them. 

But it was with a heavy heart that I rode down into Winterrun and so I got a room, not feeling quite up to going on into the college. 



 Reading a book there in my room, I discovered a bit of curious lore.  A far away land named Akavir, which has a history of invading these northern lands, is otherwise known as "The land of the dragons".  Curious.

Retreat into myself

This finds me in Dawnstar after many weeks.  It has been some time since I have been in these pages.  Much has happened. 

I awoke one morning realizing suddenly that the western watch tower that was on fire, made no sense.  The map the steward of Whiterun was examining showed the legion forces clearly to the east.  The tower should rest securely in Whiterun's hands.  I remember the rumour of the dragon being about, so I grabbed a quick breakfast.  The college could wait.   I tried to dissuade Faengal from coming, but he insisted.  It was not a far ride and the tower still burned.  Observing from a distance I saw the soldiers of Whiterun with blades drawn but no enemy apparent.  So I dismounted and walked down to see what I could learn.

Suddenly, a dark dreadful shadow crossed the sky and flames rain down upon us all.  If this was Martin, he was trying to kill me.  With Glamdring in one hand and the power of lightening in the other I fought for my life.  And won.  Glamdring is now the slayer of dragon.  She is now Amarthamlung, dragon doom in the ancient tounge.

The soldiers who survived looked at me with wonder, shock,... dread. "Dragonborn" they called me.  What is dragon born I asked?  They told me of a myth of old, of dragon lords who upon killing their foe absorbed their power, power which manifested in voice.  At those words, the hidden word inside me pulsed.  I climbed a rock and gave voice to the word and a great power flew from me, a power of pure force shoving all away that was infront of me.  The looks of dread turned to horror in some and amazement in others.

I fled.  Retreating into my home and my books searching for insight, for answer.  What was I?

But nothing could I find in my collection.  Only an obscure reference in one writing to a potion that might make one invisible using vampire dust.  Of all things.  Maybe being invisible would be a good thing.

I returned to the fort to look upon the bones.  This was not Martin, the once emperor.  The dragon was too small.  This was something new.  The watch captain approached and helped me take specimens of the bone.  And he shared a concern that no word had been heard from the fortress just to the east.  So I decide to ride out to see.  It looked fine as I approached, sentries on the wall.

Bandit sentries and a mage.  Inside I found a dead imperial soldier.  And burned bodies. Why burned?  There was no hint of answer for this.  This is land of riddles.

Faengal and I turned back to head into Whiterun to share with the steward that dragons were about.   The watch captain had ordered me to speak to the Jarl, but to be honest, I am not ready to be a puppet of a petty king and his war on dragons.  Not until I know more about the beast, about myself, about if they have any connection to Martin.  As we drew near the stables once again that oppressive dark force was felt and a horrible shout was heard.  But then nothing.  After a bit the crickets sang again.  I looked at Faengal and he said nothing, but we both knew a dragon has passed overhead and likely not a small one like the one I had faced.  And it felt like rage.

The city is abuzz. Even though it was night, a guard stopped me asking "are you dragon born"?   It will be necessary to return to the college, but first it must quieten down.

I sold a few things, closed my house once again, and Faengal and I sat out for Riverrun.

Faengal's love interest had a gift for me.  Two very fine sets of light armour, one in white and red and one in white and blue. Amazing workmanship.  But I don't feel ready for such yet.  My ability to enchant so anemic now, that I will wait hoping for it to mature to make the most of such garments.

Riverrun is the most temperate of what I have seen in the north.  It is winter, but there is still green here and much game.  So I took a few days to go hunting. I took a few deer, wolves, even a couple fox.... and a small dragon.  It attacked me on the slopes southwest of the village.  Small but deadly.  Amarthmalung once again drank the blood of a dragon.  But this time though I felt the power wash over me, it did not become part of me.  The other word remains locked inside my soul. 

Looking at the bones, I watched the rain drip from its massive head.  My eyes narrowed as I remember it had been raining too at the tower.  Was rain and storm somehow connected, a harbinger perhaps of their coming?

I returned to town and its people once again welcomed me.  I immersed myself in manual labor focusing on learning the skills of turning skins to leather.  I made myself a number of belt pouches.  I never seem to have enough pockets.  It will be a useful tool.  And they are nice if I do say so myself, a pale gray to match my armour thanks to learning how to make a gray dye from local flowers.

I talked Faengal into staying in town convincing him he needed to spend some time with his love interest.  I snuck back to my home in Winterrun to store dragon bone.  Who knows it may be useful.

I left heading north further into the cold for Dawnstar and later the college.  I found a dead mage on the road and a mercenary looking for work, but I had none.  And in Dawnstar I once again found the smugglers cache with some useful items.  I don't take all.  I don't want them to catch on that I know it is there, but I'll continue to check it when I pass through town.

The true treasure

I left out of town early seeking to stop and explore this little treasure map I almost gave my life for.  To my surprise it actually lead me to a small buried cache.  It was long climb up the mountain and decided to camp out in the heights watching the sun set and the stars come out. But I came to regret that as a strong weather front came and began dumping very heavy snow.  I had to make my way down the mountain in the earlier hours.  I headed into Riverrun only to be assaulted by an lady elf with magic.  Once again I have no clue why.  It was me or her.  I walked away, or rather rode away.

Faendal was not in town so I spent the day with Alvor the local smith learning about abit about improving weapons and working with iron and steal.  He made a strange comment about longing to work with moon ore but when I asked him about this, he didn't have anything else to say on the subject.

Faendal returned that evening.  I had been concerned at his abrupt departure that he had been angry with my serving with the companions.  Especially given I now had a better understanding of their founder as the slayer of elves.  But he was jovial and jumped at the chance to recover some sellable weapons from the barrow.  So we made a journey of a week to return.  But unfortunately it appears someone was there before us.  No bodies.  Only a few weapons remained.  We took what we could find and returned to Winter run selling these items to our local merchants.

This finds me back home.  The carpenter made short work of things, converting some extra space into a nice area for potion making.  It is sizing up handily.

So now I must decide what the future holds.  Do I return to the college to seek out knowledge of m blade knowing I will likely be caught in the battle over the orb? And it is along journey and nothing says I won't find myself caught in the battles between the legion and the rebels.  Do I wait here or in Riverrun for the post, should it come, back from my family and then seek my cousins?  The Companions have asked me to take on a new mission.  And I've seen no sign of Martin or the dragon if it is Martin nor have I heard rumors of dragons lately.  But I would like to read that book again about blood of dragons.  Something about dragons ties this together.  Even the blade I carry was involved in a war against a dragon.  And it seems she awakes.  And the words which speak to me.  Are they the words of dragon?  Is there blood of dragon in me?  I look with concern on my fellow companions who have the nature of wolves.  But what of me?  Is that why I was able to stand when so many fell when the demons broke through into our world several years ago?

As for the sword, I have been working on the translation of the runes inscribed into her with the help of notes made regarding the small ancient texts the court mage had in his possession. She appears read thus:  Turgon aran Gondolin tortha gar a matha i vegil Glamdring gûd daedheloth, dam an Glamhoth".   This is an ancient elvish language and means something like:  "Turgon, king of Gondolin, wields, has, and holds the sword Glamdring, Foe of Morgoth's realm, Hammer of the Orcs".

Who is Turgon?  Where was Gondolin?  Who was Morgoth and where was his realm?  The elves of this land must be descendents of this time, but I do not know if these words speak of events that transpired her or elsewhere.  Mysteries in mysteries.

But the best treasure of these past days:  my friend Faendal has returned.

Mixed Feelings

I made my journey to meet Farkas and together we penetrated deep into the ancient tomb that was said to contain a fragment of an ancient weapon named Wutherad.  When I asked him about the nature of this weapon, I was taken aback to hear him say it was a great weapon of the first Companion and was used to slay the elves to make room for the human expansion in the northern lands. 

Perhaps my conflicted feelings regarding men and elves was the reason I found myself blundering into a trap and getting myself locked into a cage.  Farkas was having a good laugh at his expense when our situation grew serious.  Suddenly a group of warrior descended upon him. I thought for sure the would do for him, but then before my eyes he turned into a might wolf man.  I have heard of this thing, but have never seen it.  I always before it was more myth than reality.  Even as I write this, I am troubled by this new insight in the Companions.  His foes all bore silver swords, which I can understand as we ourselves began to run into the undead on this journey.  Farkas released me and we battled a few "dead men" until we came across more silver wielding foes.  I thought to take down one or two with my bow, but stupidly missed an easy shot and found  myself in a face to face battle.  Glamdring held her own at one putting cutting through a silver sword deep into the chest of my foe. 

We found the shard as rumoured, but I found more...way more.  Farkas did not see but I heard.  Another word, written in an ancient language I cannot read, below a great engraving of a dragon, called to me and my blood stirred once again.  But like the other, it lies below the surface and I know not how to call it forth or even it can be called forth.  I do not know what it is.

We triggered something.  Whether was the word or taking the shard, but suddenly dozens upon dozens of undead were upon us.  I was up high and blasted them with fire while Farkas held the approach.  It was due to our position that we survived. 

Up top, it was middle night so we rested until dawn.  I reluctantly left behind much in the way of weapons and armour.  I could have sold these and made tidy profit, but I could carry so much and Farkas no interested. 

We returned to the Circle that is the heart of the companions and they welcomed me as one of them, a member of the companions, not the circle.  And I do not know if I would want the new reality that would bring. 

The next morning I decided to seek out the court mage to see what he could tell me of the elves and men and their history and of the sword.  He knew little beyond that these northern lands were among the first to be settled by men and that elves were concerned about how short our lives are and how fast we reproduce.  Elves live long and have few children and live in harmony with the land.  Man on the other hand....well you know.

On my way out I asked the steward if he new of any carpenters who could do some work around the house in my absence and he promised to see to it.  He was staring forlornly at a map of military forces.  It would appear the conflict between empire and the rebels is growing with a clear demarcation of position.  I shall have to be cautious.  

I did not tell him of my dream from Glamdring, but did ask if he had books on the ancient lost languages.  In a smal glossery I found the meaning for the words "glam" "dringonay".  Glam clearly means foe or enemy.  Drionay would best translate into the common tounge as devestator, destroyer, basher...   So my sword is "Foe Basher".  Maybe the sword responded to my new insight, or maybe a bit of my old skill with enchanting weapons and armor begins to return, but using the archane enchanting device the mage had in possession I was able to awaken a small portion of the spirit that I believe resides in the blade. 

So I carry a blade from an ancient time that was used to destroy a mighty and evil foe.  I wonder about that age.  I will have seek out ancient tombs, perhaps in the collection locked away in the college.  But it is far away and will to wait for now.

I am thinking to return to Riverwood for two reasons.  One from there I dispatch a courier south with a letter to my grandmother's family to see what I can learn of our estates in the north.  And I wish to seek out Faengal, my elvish friend, to see if he would be interested to return to the barrow site and recover that small treasure in weapons. 

A different look

I made my way out this morning to check on my horse.  She's still here.  Faithful steed.  She's not become horse steak to a wandering pack of wolves it would appear.  These northern horses are quite sturdy.

The land seems different today, but maybe it is I that am different.  My shoulder wound is sore and it will likely be some days before I feel like traveling.  But it is clean and no sign of festering.  The healing power has almost restored me to normal.  Glamdring is a great weapon, but a bit longer than I am used to wielding. Will need to work on that.

But what seems most different is this land is ancient and was once home of the elves.  Who were these elves from so long ago who came this world from across the sea to battle evil.  Are the ruins of the Aelids far to the south some hint of their presence or were they an even more ancient race? How are the wood elves of today related.  Sadly I know little of the elves and their history in this land.  I hope to do some reading at the college.  I wish I had access to the libraries in the Citadel, but going south seems impossible.  I wonder what Faengal could tell me of his people. In fact laid up here, I could use a few good books to pass the time.

I hope Farkas waits for me.