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

Fin's fourth entry

Time to admit. Okay. Riften isn't as big as I had imagined it. In my head it was a massive metropolis of fishing, hunting and bargaining, a city stuffed with people and voices breaking each other off. I had heard so many stories from Lucan who would travel to Riften to sell or buy goods, not always legally I suspect. Perhaps he had spiced up the stories for the sake of entertainment or perhaps they just sounded far more impressive because I was a young lad then. But here I was, Sun was setting and the dusty rain was tapping on my hood. Not many people were outside, I suspected they had all just packed up because of the rain, so I headed towards the building from which the most noise and light seemed to come. I turned the corner to discover its sign flapping about in the wind; The Bee and Barb. I opened the door and slipped in quietly not to draw anymore attention to myself than needed. I quickly saw that my carefulness was ill needed because everyone was minding theirs and the door couldn't be heard over the sound of loud conversation. It was a wonderful sight to have walked into such a lively place, more lively than the Sleeping Giant Inn had ever been. A pale looking Argonian woman with horrid eyes was stood behind the counter, yelling at an Argonian man with a broomstick. Not wanting to disturb the woman in the midst of her conversation, I slipped onto a stool by the counter next to a leather hooded figure already occupying the stool next to the one I had claimed. I unhooked my bow, that was attached to my back and placed it leaning against the counter on the floor. Or that is, I would have put it there wasn't it for an other bow already in its place, a golden one of Elven-looking craftsmanship. I kept glaring at it for a moment, compared to my home-crafted wooden bow, this was a magnificent piece of work. "A marksman, eh?" I looked up at the owner of the soft voice to see a face whose top half was hidden behind a leather hood yet the jaws and the lips ratted him out to me. "A fellow kinsman, I see. Such a handsome bow." His mouth fell into shape of a discreet smile and he reached out for me to shake his hand. "Keerava, get my Elven-brother a bucket of ale."

- Fin Larksong

Fin's third entry

It wasn't hard to decide that I wanted to leave home and travel to Riften. Something about that place had always had me drawn somehow. Rumor has it that the Thieves Guild hides underneath the city in the sewers and oddly enough they might be the ones I will have to seek out. I have always looked up to my brother Faendal, he is a great hunter but he lacks something vital, something that keeps him from lifting above the great hunter and become a superior one. He hasn't got the sneakiness. I have been practicing fading into one with the shadows but I can't seem to quite get the hang of it and I'm not sure what I'm doing wrongly and that is why I have been playing with the thought of finding a sort of mentor. I set off my journey with a home-crafted bow and arrows of Imperial iron stuffed tightly and neatly in their sheath on my back. I had never been very far from home but this was the time. I told Faendal that I wasn't going to disappear, I'd come back once in a while to visit him. The road to Riften from Riverwood goes through a mountain pass where I had never been. I have never been one to be fond of the cold and the snow, which in itself makes it rather stupid to have set up home in a place like Skyrim. Luckily the way there wasn't a very harsh one when I first had gotten through the pass.On the other side was fairly flat and the sun did lay like a scarf on the back of my neck, that is, before it began raining. It later came to my knowledge that that wasn't too unusual in the Rift. The actual journey there wasn't in any way as epic as I had imagined it to be even though it was a long one and I had to stop for the night several places on the way but when I finally stood by the gates to Riften and a guard unlocked them for me, I was greeted by a scent of salt and smoke and it drew me in in the exact way that I had hoped.

- Fin Larksong

Fin's second entry

I was far off. Had I only been as lucky as getting to serve time in jail. As the horse carriages finally arrived after spending three days straight locked up like pit wolves, I discovered something I knew was a a bad sign. On these carriages were already sat some men dressed in colours I recognized all too easily. The four passengers divided onto two wagons were dressed in Stormcloak cuirasses. Rebels. And only a fool knows not what happens to Stormcloaks. I realized then that the horse thief and I were not headed for prison, we were headed for the block. We were sat on the wagons and I must have had the whitest face. I, who you know isn't one for being quiet, didn't say a word on the entire trip to Helgen. When we finally reached the damned village, we were picked off the wagon one by one. The horse thief, whose name for some reason has slipped my mind, was actually dumb enough to try and make a run for it. It was a single arrow through his chest and he was on the ground. You know I'm not particularly squeamish but I just couldn't look when the first of the rebels had his head in a basket. "Your turn, elf." I heard from beside me, the voice seemed oddly familiar. I turned my gaze that had till then been locked at my feet, only to be met by a familiarity I hadn't expected. By my side stood Hadvar. He wasn't looking at me till he noticed my glaring. "Fin, what are you doing here?!" He sounded as surprised I was that we would bump into each other here. I explained to him my accident and even though he tried to keep a straight face, he nearly cracked up in laughter. Of course I shouldn't be there, he said, but they had had a hard time picking up criminals and lowlifes recently and they had become desperate to pick up anyone. He left me standing for a moment while he went to talk to another guard. After a bit of arguing I couldn't hear at all, Hadvar came back to me and untied the ropes around my wrists. He saved me when I was just a few minutes from seeing my head roll away from my body. They let me go and I returned to Riverwood.

- Fin Larksong

Fin's first entry

I was in the most unfortunate accident here the other day, Faendal, brother. You are not going to believe me. The one time I go hunting South of Helgen, I get myself into horrible trouble. As I told you before I left, I had taken your hunting bow and I was expecting to be out for two perhaps three days tops. Still on the first day around the time of sunset, I hadn't had much luck with anything. I had earlier managed to put an arrow through the leg of a smaller deer but somehow it was able to skip away before I had a chance to get it properly. I spent nearly the entire day with my back against a tree, writing poems about birds and flowers. Then around when I was getting dark, I saw, down by the river, the snout of a fox peeking out from behind a bush. I could only just see the tip of its nose in the darkness but it was clearly drinking from the river. As silently as I could and had done it many times before, I crouched down and carefully and precisely drew the bow. I aimed at his little snout, steadied my hand and let go. The arrow shot through the air and pierced the little guy's muzzle with fine accuracy. The reaction from him wasn't though quite as expected. Instead of the high pitched squeal of a wounded fox, I heard the growl of what sounded like a full grown man. In shock I got up as quickly as I could and to my surprise I saw a man jumping around on one leg, clinging desperately to his bleeding foot. What I had thought was the snout of a fox drinking turned out to be the foot of an Imperial soldier dipping his feet in the water. I had no idea whether to hide or run, I stood paralyzed and stared at him and his companion with my bow hanging from my hand. Before I had the time to present a defense for myself, the guard I hadn't impaled was arresting me for federal assault. I am writing to you from the base in which they are keeping me. Tomorrow the next patrol of carriages will come by to pick me up along with a horse thief who hails all the way from Rorikstead. I suppose we are going to serve some time in Helgen jail before I can return home to you, brother. I'm just writing to you to let you know I have not been eaten by a bear just yet and that I will be returning home as soon as they let me go.

- Fin Larksong

Molarg's second entry

It took quite some time to convince Ghiras to leave the tribe. I kept telling her that only if we left all the old fashioned traditions behind could we be together, her and I. I knew she loved me but all her childhood she had been growing up thinking she would be forge-wife of some old chief. And by the time she became pregnant, I'm sure she wasn't ready to up on all she had imagined but soon I had her convinced - we couldn't stay with the old ways. She was too afraid to bring to subject up with her brother, who was the chief-to-be, as their father was getting old and the time for challenging him was coming yet closer. It then became my duty to deliver the news of our upcoming flight to her brother. To our luck he didn't take it all too bad, in fact he felt relieved at my proposal and wanted to come with me; I had expected him to be somewhat of a weakling. What troubled him was our alliance with the rebellion. Like his sister he wasn't one for breaking traditions and such spoke the Orcs' alliance with the Legion. Yet the thought of never seeing his sister again became too much for him and he agreed to leave with us. Knowing where the rebels crossed the border to High Rock, it wasn't hard to establish ourselves in a small cave close to there. Our aid was not only welcomed but needed.

- Molarg gro-Brolark

Molarg's first entry

Our tribe had set up a smaller base hidden away in a mine just outside of Evermor to serve as a place of restoration and aid to soldiers of the Stormcloak rebellion in Skyrim. Our support of the Stormcloak uprising has been frowned upon in Orisinum hence our base being outside of blood borders and not visible to the naked eye. Rebels would come crossing from the Skyrim-High Rock border and seek aid and resources from the West. There weren't more than fifteen or so of us in the mine. Narahk sat by his mother's side, tending a soldier's wound. As much as we had hoped for him to form into a true warrior, he turned out to be as gentle as the spring breeze and we had had to give in to his nature. With the best she could, Ghiras was teaching him about Blisterwarts and that sort of thing. Everything seemed quite peaceful until Ghiras' brother Logul noticed the sound of running horses approaching. He ran out to the entrance and we heard a growl and before we had had time to grab our swords, Imperial soldiers had filled up the mine and had us at knife-point against the wall with threads of burning down the entire mine as punishment for our so-called treachery. Logul stepped towards them announcing himself as our chief and offered to let them take him. After a loud-voiced negotiation, they demanded to take all men of the camp in order to leave the women and children unharmed. The six of us agreed to go with them to spare our families the harm. We were bound on our hands and thrown onto different horse carts, mine headed off to Helgen for execution. The half day it took to get across the frozen land of Skyrim, it only grew bigger and darker in my head that I hadn't had the chance to let Ghira and Narahk know that I would do anything in my power to return to them again - but that I now never would.

- Molarg gro-Brolark

Ka'Jael's thrid entry

I must admit I almost shed a tear at Brynjolf's short and unemotional speech when he made me Guild Master with the consent of Vex, Delvin and Karliah. I enjoyed that moment when he was devoted to me and my doing, be that more the Guild's monemt perhaps which might be the superficial cause of his attention, though I must admit I stand with a feeling of it having root in him caring for me. He's awfully busy as he was before my quest through the Twilight Sepulcer. I can't help but think back on the time when I was a mere novice thief, sneaking around in the Ratway, pickpocketing homeless for their only few septims. Now I make my office with the crown of Barenziah shining behind me, letting everyone know exactly who is in charge. The guild is up and running again and if I've ever been proud of something in my life, that is what I am now. Karliah is back around sometimes, Brynjolf is busy as ever and I swear I even saw Vex smile at me when I took my seat. The face of Nocturnal embraces me from across the Cistern and when I sit here fiddling with a lockpick, I'm not the least uncertain of where I belong.

- Ka'Jael 'Stormblade' Sheth

Viarinn's third entry

I kicked and I turned and I tossed to get that horrible being off me. Its big, black wings were hurled around me, almost as if it was trying to choke me and the more I fought, the more it tightened its grip. That's when I heard its awful cry. Like a kettle forgotten upon the stove. SSSHHHHHH. For some reason it seemed like it was beginning to give up fighting. SSSHHHHH. And stop. The beast flew off me and landed in a little pile on the floor. I sat straight up with my eyes wide open, the sweat dripping down my face. I had been fighting my blanket. "Sssshhhhh". His arm crept around me and in the pale moonlight he looked at me with a calm face. "Bad dream, my love?" Belrand asked me. I nodded and asked him stupidly if I had woken him up - which of course I had. From there he let me fall asleep in his arms. I had grapped his hand to make sure it wasn't just another dream but to my confirmation, his wedding band was still on his finger. As was mine. I'm sure he'll protect me against the blanket monster.

- Viarinn Lorén

Viarinn's second entry

So it turns out staying at The Winking Skeever was one of the best ideas I ever had. Last night as I had found myself a good chair close to the fireplace, just leaning back before I retreated to my room and listening to the tones of agression off the thoat of a young Bard out of the College, a grey-haired Nord pulled his chair to mine and pushed towards me one of two cups of mead. It turns out he was a selfproclaimed sellsword and had long been looing for someone matching his skill to drive out on adventure with. I agreed that he could travel with me, had he the skills. That same evening he and I ran down the steep path from Solitude and Westwards on till we bumped into a little more than I had hoped for. The troll saw us before we saw it so we had no chance of getting out of its way without a fight. Belrand, as he had told me his name to be, dragged the iron sword from his belt and a fire lit up in his spare hand. By the hands of the two of us, the troll saw his end by blade and flames and I must admit that for a Nord, he wasn't half bad with his magic. As we walked back to The Winking Skeever, I promised him that we could go adventuring together if he met my condition of letting me dress him in less bumpy armor. He had to think it through a little but in the end I had him convinced. Tomorrow I will show him the power of elven craftmanship and then we will be heading down South. I've always wanted to visit the Temple of Mara.

- Viarinn Lorén

Viarinn's first entry

This must be the most emotional day of my life - to be named Arch-Mage on my 18th birthday. The youngest Arch-Mage ever to lead the College of Winterhold. It seems like a heavy burden to bear, living up to the name of Arch-Mage Aren, by whom I was first greeted by at my arrival as an applicant but it has me on my tail, and upon receiving the news, I must admit, it was hard to stay stood on the ground. I havn't told father and mother yet, for I am afraid they will worry too much and think that it's too much responsability to give to a young woman as myself. And perhaps they're right. But that doesn't mean that I won't take up the challenge. After all, whatever I do cannot possibly overshine anything that's happened at the college recently. I've been on a few adventures with Brelyna. She and I together went after the Staff of Magnus and to me it's created something very special between us (or at least it's fair payback for her tuning me green!). I've told Argis to look out for Vlindrel Hall for a while as I'm going to Solitude to visit the Bards College and see if I can sniff up some scholar friends - or perhaps even mages. I've only ever been to Solitude one time before and that had me leaving with my mind inside out, a chunk of cheese in each ear and the Wabbajack stuffed in my backpack. If I ever have the chance to meet a Daedric Prince again, I hope it to be someone a little less... mad. Be that as it is, I will be staying at the Winking Skeever for a while, before I jump into my next adventure. A little elf can only take so much at a time.

- Viarinn Lorén

Ka'Jael's second entry

Craming the golden elven helmet down over the head of the mannequin I let out a sigh of exhaustion. I still have loads of things to move from my cabin to this home. Even though I had the steward put up warm and friendly torches as well as light up the fireplace, this house still has something gruefully eerie about it. I remember lockpicking my way into this house when I was investigating the murder of the young woman in the graveyard and then discovering the necromancy sacrifice that'd been going on. It was even still here after my buying the house. Gladly I could persuade the steward to clean it up for me in exchange of a minor payment. With a soaked hand I wipe over the gauntlets matching the helmet before I wipe it off on my shoulders and realize that now I'm covered in the dust that this house seems to produce as was it the only thing it knew. The walls here are covered in display plates which I find quite useful since I have been collecting swords from all around. Now that al the gore has been removed, this house is far more comforting than my old cabin in Riften; even though I must admit that I miss Iona's greetings when Lydia and I return from our quests.

- Ka'Jael 'Stormblade' Sheth

Ka'Jael's first entry

The flames scorches the leather hood I'm pulling down to cover my face. With my spare hand I wipe the blood off of my whiskers, the blood of the dragon towards which I am charging with my drawn Dragonbane. I wasn't made for slaying dragons, I was born with my hand in someone else's pocket but it really seems I have no choice. Had I had such a choice, I doubt I would have ever even left det warm sands of Elsweyr. The thoughts of my homeland and being amongst my own kin never leaves my thoughts though my attention is needed in the present. An arrow swiftly brushes past my face and pierces its way in between the dragon's rough scales. Lydia is a better archer than she is a close combat warrior but this time I have requested she keep a distance so we at least not both are set on fire. It's far more tricky, fighting the vile creatures up here in the mountains. His heavy body slams against the ground as he lands and his tail knocks over a massive tree. Bright light shrouds me for a moment as I take use of my newly accuired mage skills, healing myself as they taught it at The College of Winterhold. I stand ready before him and take in a deep breath before I release an equally fiery roar to match his, a shout of ancient language, to tell him off, to let him know I'm the one.

- Ka'Jael 'Stormblade' Sheth

Namiaa's first entry

My heart aches if not of my disappointment of betrayal then of sorrow. Astrid when behind my back on behalf of the family, she did what she thought was right and I can't blame her for that even though it pained me as much as anything ever did, putting her own blade to her heart. I wouldn't expect Nazir to join me in my mourning. I suspect he's alwyas had a bad eye for Astrid. Even though he did mention to me how be would only answer to her and take orders from her, I think it was merely out of lack of an alternative, and to him the Night Mother certainly wasn't one. I still have Shadowmere, her red-eyed horse, with whom I cross the land. Sometimes it feels as if she is whispering to me through the sound of his hooves. Maybe I am confusing the emptiness I feel after the loss of Astrid with the gloomy mood Kodlak's death has left the Companions with. The twins, my rocks, they rarely ever speak to me and I rarely see them around anymore. I feel guilty for taking his place as Harbringer and I suspect with reason. I try to keep a distance but my brothers of coat are giving me a hard time. O how I hope my misery will come to an end soon. Before I wither.

- Namiaa of the Nord