Fin's seventh entry

SHWOOSH! A rusty arrow cut straight through the air and with the hollow sound of cracking wood lodged itself firmly into the dark knot that served as the bulls eye of a wooden crate target forty foot in front of us. Soundlessly the string of the elven bow was pulled back again, mechanically, routinely, practiced. Six or seven seconds of concentrated and silent aiming passed, then another shwoosh and another arrow pierced the crate not half an inch away from the other. "Something is bothering you," the skilled archer broke the quiet rhythm just as I had pulled an arrow from my own quiver and carefully positioned it. "You're not usually this quiet." I pulled back the black string of my bow and released to see my arrow strike at least an inch above his. "I have a lot on my mind," I admitted without removing my eyes from our mutual target. Already after a week in the sewers, I barely took notice of the rotten stench anymore. It also did help that no one else down here seemed to notice anything at all either. It was like a massive, stinky mammoth in the middle of the cistern and every one of it inhabitants had an unspoken agreement not to mention it to one another at any cost. The beds were placed in a perfect circle around the pool in the middle, each with a chest and an end table attachment. I hadn't yet stored any of my things in there, lest they'd be gone when I woke up. But even though I had yet to learn to trust the rest of the pack, my kin-brother's proposal was still being weighed out in my head. The stiff string of his bow creaked like it was out of tune when Niruin again tugged it backwards with three fingers. It let out a sharp clanking sound when he let it go, sending off the arrow straight towards the target to dig itself in under the tip of that one my arrows already stuck there, forcing it out of the crate side. My arrow landed on the ground with a pling that echoed off the wet walls of the Cistern's practice room.

- Fin Larksong

Tjar-Rei's first entry

I, Gabriella, will be writing on behalf of Tjar-Rei (the lizard can't read). He tells the story of his "Rei-Skaiaki".
It is tradition for all Argonians to receive a trinket of a kind from his mother in the midst of his teen years as a part of an adulthood ceremony. Since I didn't have a mother, Siiq-Dar was the next best thing (even if I had known my mother, Siiq-Dar would be my first choice, he adds). I remember, with his furry fingers it was difficult for him to lodge the iron band onto my horn. He struggled with it so much, that he had to use both his hands to press it down properly in order to assure that it wouldn't come off again. Since then, of course, my horns have grown and it would be impossible to get it off today. I appreciate that he would help me stay in touch with Argonian tradition even though Bravil's beast race inhabitants aren't exactly known for their open-mindedness. From an unknowing spectator's point of view, it would have looked like a grown up Khajiit in his skooma haze physically abusing a tiny, skinny lizard - which is more or less what it was. He did the ritual oil drawings on my face and I guided him through the chanting of which I wasn't quite sure, I had only heard the words at someone else's ceremony and didn't remember them very well. At the time I didn't quite realize that I had become a burden to Siiq-Dar, I adored him. He was the only one I had to look up to so I worshiped him completely. And he knew it. And he used it. For all I know, the rings he gave me for my Rei-Skaiaki might as well have been some I had fished out of someone's pocket myself. But he was I had. I often wonder what happened to him after I left. If he is even still alive.

- Gabriella on behalf of Tjar-Rei

Ra'Qai's first post

Sorine asked me, why I would trust a vampire. I had after all joined a legion that swore to slay them and rid them off the land. And she reminded me of how many vampire lives I had had the pleasure of ending with a well-placed arrow in the throat. But now I had not only put my trust in a monster but even brought it into the fort. When she asked me like that, right in that moment, I didn't know what to reply. I thought I just immediately trusted her, even though it seemed strange. I thought about what she had asked for days. Why would I trust her? And while she was sneaking up on the deer she had planned for our lunch, I observed her from a distance, and then it dawned on me. One of the main reasons for liking Serana as I did was, that she had asked me who my father was because she honestly didn't know. She was the first person I had run into who didn't know of him. And the funny thing was, that when I asked her about her father, she said exactly what had been on my mind "You're the first one I've met who doesn't already think they know something about me because they know of my father." Suddenly like that we had met on a level that was far beyond me being her escort and her being just another job. I couldn't completely shed the possibility that Sorine was onto something. That there was a chance that Serana could be merely using me to get an inside grope on the Dawnguard. But our banishing from Castle Volkihar by her father Harkon, it all seemed so real. She seemed so sincere. Despite the glowing, yellow eyes.

- Ra'Qai Sheth

Fin's sixth entry

I bit hard onto one end of the leather wrappings that were to go around my feet and gave it a rough yank by the other end. I was hardly used to walking these long distances so I never bothered to get my hands on a pair of proper boots. Desperately trying to cover up my grief with annoyance was little help; Frost had died at the hands of the Forsworn and even though I am not at all one for walking across the land, I had lost a faithful companion to some blasted barbarians. I had been riding so much and walking so little that the skin under my feet had become smooth and soft. As I sat there at the side of the dusty road, Meeks wouldn't stop staring at me. Staring like he does it with those big eyes - he had lost a friend too. Could we only rewind time, we would go back and take the hit ourselves. Damned be the Reach. I am only in this dry, dusty place because there is coin to be made, and a lot I hope. The footswraps are tight enough and I have brushed Meeks' fur through with troll fat so he won't dry out. Arcadia said I should do so anyway, I am not sure whether to trust her on such matters or not. I checked that all of my pockets and pouches were secured before I latched my bow onto my back over the quiver. A certain Hagraven possessed what I had been paid to fetch but it was hard not to turn around and immediately initiate cold and sharp revenge over the wild Forsworn.

- Fin Larksong 

Ka'Jael's last entry

Friends. Family. We have gathered 'roud today to pay our last respect to a much loved man.
Ambushed. Butchered. Slaughtered. By Imperial soldiers in a last try to get back at the rebels; by taking down their strongest warrior. We could have handed him over to Ulfric but only a few days ago, Ka'Jael came up to me because he wanted to confess something to me. These are the last words he spoke to me: "I am not made for war. I was crowned their champion but I was never truly part of their cause. They called me the main vein of their rebellion but I never felt like I was fighting for the liberty of Skyrim. I felt like I was fighting myself. Fighting to find out why I left Leyawiin in the first place. But I think I found it, here. In the Cistern. I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate this... family." He was on leave. He was on his way home to Windhelm. Murdered in cold blood, a pointless revenge. We have gathered 'roud today to say our last goodbyes to a master thief, a golden glass warrior but most of all, we are saying our goodbyes to a dear friend. Ka'Jael Sheth. In the name of Nocturnal, may you rest in the shadows.


- Brynjolf on behalf of Ka'Jael 'Stormblade' Sheth

Fin's fifth entry

The evening proceeded, three four five bottles of mead uncapped and shared, I had to hold onto my flagon with both hands not to slide off my stool. My fellowship was more than commonly generous and I had yet to tie up my own purse which was a slight relief because on my long travel to Riften, I had had to stop at more than one place to rest and beds aren't cheap for 'outsiders'. Little does it help that I've lived in Skyrim nearly my entire life, it's the ears. I wasn't quite sure of how much I had left on me and even though I did carry a handful for gemstones on me, I wasn't too keen on having to pay my drinks with them, that would just be an inch too cheap. But apparently it was never necessary because my elven brother kept and I exchanged stories for hours, mine of iron and blood, his of wealth and boredom. There was something rather compelling about his telling of becoming fed up with the stuffed up plutocrat's life so much that he joined up with a band of thieves, not for the sake of gaining riches but to escape the dullness. There was too something alluring about the way he told of how he had too left his fiancée, an apparently beautiful countess, and how he couldn't hide a malicious smile when he told of her face absolved in tears. During this part of his story, I noticed to myself that I had grabbed hold of his bow that was leaned against his stool. As well as serving as a finely placed supporting cane that reassured that I wouldn't just slip off my seat and unnecessarily embarrass myself, it had a certain cool to it that spread to my fingers as I ran them up along its upper shaft with my fingertips only brushing over it gently. Around 4am or so the crowd was thinning out and us two Bosmer were the only ones left in the Bee and Barb save the priest of Mara who was half asleep on a wooden bench anyway. It had grown increasingly harder for me to keep sat up straight, so much that when I tipped over and landed with my head in my company's lap, I didn't have a chance of getting back up again and therefore stayed there. I looked up at him with a stare that must have seemed quite silly and for the first time, as I could see up under his hood from here below, I saw his eyes which revealed that he wasn't exactly sober either. I clutched my hand around his bow and opened my mouth to suggest I paid for my own drinks or at least for a bed for the night, or what was left of it, but he politely cut me off. "I think you are going to need somewhere to stay for the night." I must have spent far too long pondering about how that even made sense, since we were already in an inn, because he slipped his arm round my back and lifted me up as one would a little child or a precious pet. He nodded to the still as awful looking Argonian inn keeper as he flung a few septims on the counter before carefully placing his hand on my back and guiding me towards the exit door of the inn.

- Fin Larksong