Vigil

The Personal Journal of Vigilant Merandin Biencel

Edited by Vigilant Oriella

I have found this Notebook in Gerdur’s House, and when asked she proved willing to part with it. I have never kept a Journal before, but I feel the Urge to do so now. Perhaps I am just looking for a Way to sort my Thoughts. So much has happened, and the Road ahead is shrouded in Darkness.

    My name is Merandin Biencel, second Son of Duke Fillipe Biencel of Duskmote, a small Duchy in the High Rock Kingdom of Wayrest. But such Titles matter little now. I have fled the Fires of Duskmote Castle, and I am but an ashen Husk of who I was.

    When the Imperial Legion caught me crossing the Border into Skyrim, my Fears and Doubts left me. My Judgment had found me, and I was calm as the Soldiers carted me to Helgen along with Thieves, Murderers and Stormcloak Rebels. The Empire had no Notion of my Identity, yet I was to be executed alongside Jarl Ulfric himself. It seemed a fitting End – one that I accepted as the Will of the Gods, even as I was laid upon the Executioner’s Block.

    But I did not die there, as I should have. Instead, the Eight Divines intervened in the most unlikely Manner imaginable: a Dragon, a Beast out of Myth not seen in the World for thousands of Years, descended on the small Mountain Town and began to tear it apart. Within Seconds, Helgen was a boiling Cauldron of Dragonfire, Screams and Chaos. I would like to think that it was not Cowardice that drove me to accept the Aid of one of my Fellow Prisoners, Ralof of the Stormcloaks. I would like to think that I accepted that the Gods would see me atone for my Sins before they call me to Aetherius. But all I felt in that Moment was Fear; Fear of Death by that Fire-Breathing Demon. Mere Moments before I had been ready to die – now I was overpowered by a sudden Will to live. Perhaps that too was sent to me by the Gods. But I fear that it was not.

    Ralof and I managed to escape in the Confusion, and we have made our Way to the nearby Town of Riverwood, where Ralof’s Sister Gerdur owns a Sawmill by the White River. She and her Husband chose to trust Ralof about the Dragon, despite how wild a Tale it must have seemed. As Ralof is a Fugitive from the Empire and must remain in hiding for the Time being, Gerdur has asked me to deliver the News of the Monster to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun to the North. I have my Reservations. I, too, am a Fugitive, and now that I have regained my Freedom I am loath to place it in Jeopardy again. Ralof tells me that this Stormcloak Rebellion of his is an Uprising against the Empire, a violent Reaction to the Imperial Surrender to the Aldmeri Dominion in the Great War. It sounds much like Sibastion’s Folly, but Ralof claims that Jarl Ulfric owns the Strength to shield me from Queen Elysana’s Wrath. I shall travel Northeast to Windhelm and join them. Perhaps then my Sins can be absolved.

    *

    Was attacked by two Bandits by the Roadside as I was following the White River East through Whiterun Hold. The Combat Training I received as a Child served me well, and the rusty Iron Mace I picked up while fleeing Helgen proved as adequate a Weapon as any. That – along with the healing Spells that Sibastion used to sneer at so – gave me the upper Hand. One of the Rogues was carrying an enchanted Pendant, and investigating a nearby Body of a Woman that the Villains had been looting, I found a Note stating that the Pendant was an Heirloom of hers – one that she had been robbed of and had evidently died to reclaim.

    *

    Encountered a Necromancer who was performing some Ritual by a standing Stone on a Hilltop near the Road. Destroyed her, and the Skeletons she raised against me. Foul Magic. Nellus, the old Priest who taught me my Letters, always said that Necromancy was abhorrent in the Eyes of the Gods.

    *

    I was halted by a thuggish-looking Woman who was camped beneath two Towers spanning the River. She claimed that I needed to pay a Toll. I told her – truthfully – that I had not the Money. She attacked me and I killed her, but not before she had alerted her Friends. I was pelted with Arrows and decided to flee.

    *

    I met a Man who called himself Talsgar the Wanderer just West of the volcanic Tundras of Eastmarch. He is a young traveling Bard, and he spoke at Length of finding Inspiration in Nature. He is a merry Man, full of Joy and Vitality. I wish that I had the Peace of Mind to enjoy the World around me as he seems to do. 

    *

    A Woman came rushing out of the Forest today, clearly distraught. Two men in strange Attire emerged from the Trees behind her: they wore the Hoods and Robes of Mages or Scholars draped over heavy Shirts of thick Mail. I was clearly outmatched, but a strange Compulsion to protect the Woman seized me. One of the Warrior-Sorcerers easily overpowered me and pinned me to the Ground while the other engaged the Woman in a Dazzle of protective Magicks. In the Light of his Ward, her Face – that had seemed so unearthly beautiful a Second ago – seemed to transform into a vicious, fanged Snarl. The Warrior struck her down and hastily set the Body on fire.

    I was released and stood up, shaken. I had not believed Vampires to be more than Tales to scare Children. The Men said a solemn Prayer over me and explained that they belonged to the Vigil of Stendarr, an Order of Warrior-Priests dedicated to spreading the Light of the God of Mercy to the dark Corners of the World by destroying any Creature that prey on Mortals – and particularly by fighting the Threat of the vile Daedra wherever they appear. 

    Old Nellus was a devout Follower of Stendarr, the God of Mercy, Charity and Justice. Perhaps I shall go to this Hall where their Keeper resides. Perhaps I can find my Redemption in the merciful Stendarr’s Light.

    *

    Turning North, I spotted a Hut by the River and decided to rest up for a Bit. As I came closer, I found that the Hut was destroyed, however – crushed by a falling Tree. There was a dead Man inside, caught in the Debris. I said a quiet Prayer at his Shrine to Dibella, asking that I do not meet such a End. There is a Ruin nearby. Perhaps I can find salable Valuables within – my Store of Supplies is running low.

    *

    The Ruin turned out to be an abandoned Prison destroyed by a Flood. I found Orders issued to the Guard Captain to let the Prisoners drown. Horrible. I ran afoul of several Ghosts in the Cell Block – likely the unquiet Spirits of those forsaken Inmates. A Note in one of the Cells detailed an Escape Plan through the Sewers, however, and following it I passed several Skeletons before emerging beneath a Bridge where the Road north crosses the River. The Ruin offered little in the Way of valuable Loot. I shall have to make more Stops along the Way to Windhelm.

    *

    This Stormcloak Rebellion is bigger than I thought, amounting to a civil War. I see the Signs of it everywhere. I met a Farmer who told me that he was on his Way to join Ulfric’s Cause. He was a little worried, though: the Stormcloaks’ Rhetoric seems to be focused as much on Isolationism and the Idea of creating a Skyrim for Nords only as it is on protesting the Ban on Talos-worship. The Man himself was an Imperial, but he was born and raised in Skyrim and wishes to fight to protect it.

*

    I left the Road this morning in order to avoid an Imperial Patrol, and I soon stumbled upon a beautiful Pond in the Woods to the North. I decided to stop for a Rest and swam to a small Island crested with Flowers. Once there, I made a sinister Discovery: a Trail of Blood leading from a small Boat to a Hatch hidden in the Undergrowth. Beneath, I found a Cave inhabited by two Men. This Time, I was more knowledgeable and able to spot the Signs of Vampirism in them. They proved little Challenge, then, as I suppose their usual Method of seducing Prey through Subterfuge has fostered little Battle Prowess in them. A Journal on a Table told me that the twisted Body on the Floor belonged to the Cave’s original Inhabitant, a Smuggler who had brought the two Fiends in believing them to be Cargo stowed in Boxes. Bad Way to go. I also found the Body of another Vigilant of Stendarr who had been kept in a Cage by the Monsters. Despicable. Now I have an even greater Reason to visit the Hall of the Vigilant. I have taken his Amulet, in the Shape of Stendarr’s Chalice, and I will deliver it to his Order. Perhaps that will give him Peace. I placed his Body in one of the Vampires’ Coffins and set him ablaze.

    *

    I met a Khajiit wearing the simple Robes of an Ascetic by the Roadside. He said that his Name is M’aiq the Liar, and that he “knows many Things, and tells some”. He did have many interesting Things to say, such as the Dragons never being truly gone, and that a Man’s Strength or Wits mean nothing compared to his Ability. For a Cat who names himself a Liar, his Words ring suspiciously of Truth. I left him wiser than I came.

    *

    Windhelm is an impressive City, with its great Walls of cold stone. I entered through the imposing Gates in search of a Merchant who might buy the few Trinkets I had found. I witnessed a Group of Nords harassing a Dunmer Woman, calling her an Imperial Spy and threatening to drag her from her Bed in the Night to Interrogation. Nasty. Afterwards, the Woman admitted that this is normal Behavior for many of the Nords who subscribe to Ulfric’s Ideals. If I had not already abandoned the Notion of joining Ulfric’s Rebellion, I did so today.

    *

    I made some Gold off my salvaged Goods. I spent some of it on a Shirt of Mail to wear underneath the simple Robes I have worn since Helgen. I have been in Skyrim for less than two Months, and already I have been assaulted on several Occasions; I do not think that a little extra Protection will go amiss.

    *

    I met a big Brute of an Orc on the Road West. Normally I would have just avoided that Daedra-worshipping Barbarian, but he had the Gall to insult me. Tempers flared. He died. Malacath did not help him.

    *

    Passed through a Sawmill by the River Yorgrim. I spent half a Day chopping Wood, and made some good, honest Gold for once. The other Workers were suspicious of Strangers, but they let me spend the Night by a Campfire on the Grounds.

    *

    Stopped by the Nightgate Inn by Lake Yorgrim for a Mead. Nice Inn. Scenic. The Innkeeper told me about a Shrine to the Daedric Prince Azura, built by dark Elves on a Mountain Peak not far from here. Sounds like something the Vigil might like to know about.

    I could get used to Nord Mead.

    *

    Stumbled on a Nordic Ruin filled with Undead. Vile. I cleared them out. Felt good. Felt right. Like I was making up for the Lives lost because of me. Paying my Dues in the Eyes of the God of Justice.

     *

     I met a dark Elf named Faldrus on the Road. He told me that he was on his Way to the Shrine I heard about earlier. I killed him. The Mercy of Stendarr does not extend to Daedra Worshipers.

     *

     I saved a Farmer and his Wife from Frostbite Spiders. They told me that their Home had been attacked by a Dragon – the Buildings burned, the Livestock slaughtered. I offered what Gold I could spare. Hopefully, it will help them back on their Feet.

     *

     Finally made it to the Hall of the Vigilant, hidden away in a Valley in the Pale. Keeper Carcette, the Head of the Order, has welcomed me with open Arms. My Training begins tomorrow.

     *

     I have spent nearly a Month in the Hall under the Keeper’s Tutelage. I have learned much Lore about Stendarr and about the Daedra, about Vampires and other Abominations that need to be cleansed from this World. I have been taught the Prayer of Stendarr, which purges the faithful of any Disease that might be contracted from foul Creatures, and Carcette has trained me in the magical Art of Restoration. Soon I will take my Place as a Vigilant of Stendarr and go forth to spread his Mercy. Only one Thing remains: a Pilgrimage up the Mountain, where I will spend a Night in Prayer before the Lord Stone, a sacred Monument to the God of Mercy.

     *

    Come to me, Stendarr

    For without You, I might be deaf

    To the manswarm Murmurings of Thy People,

    And forgetting their Need for Comfort and Wisdom

    I might indulge myself in vain Scribbling.

     *

     It is done. My Vigil by the standing Stone is complete, and my true Vigil begins. For the first Time since I left Wayrest, I am filled with a Sense of Purpose. Tomorrow, I will leave Jofrik, Metina and the others at the Hall and take to the Road. My first Destination is already decided. Word has reached the Keeper’s Ears of strange Things happening in the nearby Town of Dawnstar. I am being sent to investigate. Stendarr’s Light guide me.

     *

     The Rumors seem to be true. Everyone I have met since arriving in Dawnstar has complained about strange Nightmares. I went to ask the Jarl, Skald the Elder, about it – but he seems to be more concerned with the civil War. He did mention a Priest of Mara asking Questions, however. I shall ask around Town, try to find him.

     *

     Met an Orphan Boy running Errands for the Miners. He tells me that he has been working for his Food and sleeping on the Floor of the Inn ever since his Father died. I wish I could help. His is a Fate that makes Stendarr weep.

     *

     Found the Priest, Erandur, at the Inn. He has confirmed my Suspicions: these Dreams are caused by the Daedric Prince Vaermina. Foul. This must end. Erandur has a Plan and I have agreed to help. There is something off about him, though. He seems to know far more about Vaermina and this Nightcaller Temple that we are going to than a Priest of Mara should. Must tread carefully.

     *

     I am shaken to my Core. Nightcaller Temple was filled with Deadra Worshipers. What is worse, my Companion, Erandur, has confessed that he was once one of their Number, a Priest of Vaermina. He claims to have fled the Temple during an Attack, leaving his Brothers and Sisters to die. A craven Deed, but befitting of one who would grovel before a Demon – but one that I have myself once committed. I have chosen to trust in the Lady Mara who has taken him under her Wing. I have spared his Life, not only because he wished to help me to destroy the despicable Skull of Corruption that was preying on Dawnstar’s People, but because he – like me – sought Redemption. And though I had my Reservations, Erandur proved true in the End. Even as his Friends awoke from their magical Slumber, he slew them in the Name of the Innocents of Dawnstar.

     But Erandur’s Past was not the foulest Discovery that I made in Nightcaller Temple. As we approached the wicked Skull and Erandur began his Ritual to destroy it, The Daedric Prince Vaermina herself reached out and spoke in the Depth of my Heart. I feel violated. I am sick with Revulsion. The vile Demon bid me to slay Erandur, but Stendarr granted me the Strength to resist her seductive Wiles. The Skull was destroyed, and Vaermina’s Presence was cast from my Soul.

     Erandur still harbors Guilt over his Past. I have offered him the same Chance at Redemption that I have received: a Place in the Vigil, and an Opportunity to spread Stendarr’s Light. He has gratefully accepted, and a fine Vigilant he shall make. He is a skilled Mage and a Capable warrior. We shall be honored to have him.

     *

     Erandur and I have traveled back to the Hall of the Vigilant to have him formally inducted into the Order. Along the Way he has told me of his Childhood and – as a dark Elf – long Life here in the Pale. He’s a wise old Man. It feels strange being his Senior in the Vigil.

     *

     Erandur has been accepted into the Vigil of Stendarr, and I am to be his Companion as we do Stendarr’s Work in Skyrim. Keeper Carcette has ordered us to follow up on the Rumors that I heard while traveling along the River Yorgrim, about the Shrine of Azura supposedly erected in the Mountains of Winterhold. 

     *

     So far, the Journey East has been mostly uneventful. A Snow Storm forced us to take Shelter in a small Ruin carved into the Face of the Mountain. Erandur called the Place Yorgrim Overlook and claimed that it is haunted. He was right: it was guarded by two Skeletons, given Life by some dark Force. The Light of Stendarr has granted them Peace. We will continue on once the Weather settles.

     *

     Turning North into the Mountains, our Road took us past an old Stronghold known as Fort Kastav. We would have been happy to simply pass by, had we not been waylaid by walking Skeletons pouring out from the Courtyard. Pushing in through the Gate, we have found a Coven of Death Mages using the Fort as their Base. We must root this Evil out.

     *

     The Witches’ Coven of Fort Kastav is no more. We had already defeated the Bulk of the Sorcerers in the Courtyard, and those few who remained proved little Challenge. We found Evidence of some foul Ritual being prepared atop the Tower, but none now remain to complete it. We have performed our Duty and may proceed North, true to Stendarr’s Purpose.

     *

     Finally, I see our Goal in the Distance. The Howling of the Wind and the Ice Wolves echo between the desolate Crags and the Cold bites to the Bone, but we have made it. A Statue of Azura, fifty Feet tall, stands as a silent Sentinel atop the Mountain’s Summit. We must proceed with Caution; this Place could be Home to any Number of Daedra Worshipers.

     *

     We found only one Heretic at the Shrine, a Dunmer Woman named Aranea Ienith. I should have killed her immediately, but instead I chose to question her. She claims that her Demon Mistress has sent her Visions, naming me her Champion. Foolish. She should know better than to trust a Daedra. But she spoke of another Mage in the Service of Azura, one that I am “meant” to seek out. This is worth investigating, so I will play along for now… She has pointed me towards the College of Winterhold, the Mage Academy, so that is where Erandur and I are headed next.

     *

     Spent a cold Night huddled around a lonesome Guard’s Campfire at his Post outside a small Iron Mine. He told me that he would have been a lot warmer and a lot happier with a Bellyful of Mead. I am inclined to agree.

     *

     The great Edifice at the Tip of Hsaarik’s Head is an awe-inspiring Sight. Erandur and I both marveled as we approached Winterhold. The Town itself has seen better Days, however. The Jarl, Korir, blames the the College Mages for the Catastrophe that has befallen the Town, despite having little in the Way of Evidence. He was unforthcoming with any Information concerning the Man I seek, but I overheard a Conversation between him and his Wife mentioning a Mage living at the Town Inn. Seems as good a Place to start looking as any.

     *

     Found the Mage, Nelacar, living at the Frozen Hearth Inn. He told me of Azura’s Star, a powerful Daedric Artifact that has driven his former Mentor, Malyn Varen, insane. He told me where I might find Varen, but warned me against returning the Star to Azura. I assured him that the Vigil has no Intention of doing so. Erandur and I have a long Journey ahead of us, to Lake Ilinalta West of Riverwood.

     *

     Met and old Orc south of Winterhold who claimed to be waiting for a Death that would “please Malacath”. It was my Duty to end the Daedra Worshiper, even though he seemed to be a wise old Man. It was Stendarr, not Malacath, who granted him his good Death.

     *

     Passing by Fort Kastav, we noticed that the Stormcloaks have claimed it for their Rebellion. I fear that their Uprising will end the same Way that mine and Sibastion’s did… But at least the Fort is in the Hands of honest, Talos-worshipping Nords rather than Defilers of the Dead. I pray that Stendarr have Mercy on those young Men and Women.

     *

     Ran into an Orc Woman on the Road. She tried to sell me Skooma. Probably a User, herself; she had the Look. When I declined, she attacked me. Had to kill her. Sad. Would have preferred to attempt to rehabilitate her instead, had she only let me.

     *

     Were waylaid by a Highwayman on the Road South towards Whiterun. He refused to believe that we had nothing to offer. Stendarr have Mercy on his Soul.

     *

     Tried to take a Shortcut through the Woods to the South on the Border of Whiterun Hold. Stumbled onto a Nordic Ruin and were attacked by a Group of Bandits. Rested up at their Camp before continuing on.

     *

     Met a strange Man dressed as a Jester whose Wagon had broken down in the Road. Cicero. Did not seem quite right in the Head. He claimed to be transporting his dead Mother to a new Crypt. Odd. Still, I convinced the Owner of the nearby Farm to help him out. Right Thing to do.

     *

     Came across a Watchtower guarding the Road just as a Band of Brigands were attacking. Erandur and I gave the Guards a Hand. They were grateful; the Rumors about Dragons had them all on Edge.

     *

     Met a Group of Peasants sharing a Drink by the Campfire just East of Whiterun and spent the Night merrymaking. Interesting Experience. Turns out, Erandur cannot hold his Mead. 

     *

     Waylaid by another Bandit, this one with some Training in the School of Conjuration. He stated no Reasons for attacking us. An Agent of Queen Elysana, perhaps? I had thought that I buried that Life under the Rubble at Helgen.

     *

     Passed through Riverwood going West. Grey, rainy Day. Gerdur’s Welcome was warm, though. Had Hod been around, he might have been jealous.

     *

     Crossed the White River West of Riverwood to get on the North Shore of Lake Ilinalta. No Roads here, just Woodlands. Found the Body of a Thug who had been killed by Wolves. A Note on his Body indicated that he worked in an illegal Gambling Den in Eastmarch. Not the Kind of Thing that the Vigil takes an Interest in, but I might pass the Note along to the Guards the next Time I am in Windhelm.

     *

     We met an old Woman named Anise living in a Cabin in the Forest all by herself. Something about her did not seem right, so I had Erandur distract her while I poked around. Found a Witches’ Den beneath the Cabin and a Letter for a Woman named Helgi, asking her to come and form a Coven with the old Crone and her Sister. When I confronted Anise with the Evidence, she attacked us. Stendarr will judge her Soul.

     *

     At long last, Erandur and I have arrived at Ilinalta’s Deep. It is a crumbling Ruin of a Fort, half sunken into the deep Lake. As soon as Night falls, we will venture inside in Search of Malyn Varen and his Star.

     *

     Death Mages. They attacked us as we rested outside the sunken Fort. As we pushed inside, we were met by the Sight of a crucified Skeleton. A Fisherman. These Sorcerers needed to be stopped. The Light of Stendarr cut through them and their skeletal Slaves like the Dawn banishes the Shadows of the Night. We soon found ourselves looking down on the Body of Varen himself. The Enchanter was long dead; he had succumbed to his Disease cradling the Black Star and a Tome filled with his Ravings. Now begins the long Journey back to Nelacar in Winterhold.

     *

     We decided to cross the Mountains to the North, a Path that took us through Brittleshin Pass. It is a damp Tunnel, and it was crawling with Undead summoned to serve a Necromancer who had made the Cave his Home. We killed him and destroyed any Skeletons we found. Hopefully, the Pass will now be safe for Travelers.

     *

     Ran into Talsgar again, on the Road East towards Whiterun. That Man’s jovial Spirit never ceases to amaze me. He congratulated me on joining the Vigil and praised the “Life of Adventure and Song” – as if my Atonement in the Eyes of Stendarr is a Privilege rather than Penance. Perhaps I would do well to adopt his Mindset.

     *

     Spent the Night in the Ruin of a Cottage by the Roadside, alongside a Squad of Imperial Legionnaires. Their Sergeant tried to recruit me. I told him that I already serve a worthy Cause, and jokingly tried to recruit him right back. We shared a Laugh of Men whose Fates are sealed and who have made their Peace. Erandur still cannot hold his damn Mead.

     *

     We stopped in Whiterun for a Day. Erandur had always wanted to see the City, and I wished to extend an Offer of Aid to the Temple of Kynareth on behalf of the Vigil. Besides, the Order is always in need of Funds, and we had picked up some valuable Items on the Road that we could sell. We decided to rest our weary Bones and hire a Carriage to take us back to Winterhold.

     *

     As we arrived in Winterhold, we witnessed a Bandit attacking – and being killed by – the Town Guards in the Street. I examined the Body – it bore the telltale Marks of a Vampire’s Thrall. This might bode ill; Vampires rarely attack Mortals so brazenly. It might not signal the End of the World, as one of the Guards feared, but I have a Feeling that it will prove an ill Omen nonetheless.

     *

    Nelacar tells me that there is a Way to sever Azura’s Hold on the Star, to thwart her Influence over the Artifact permanently. There is a Problem, however: Malyn Varen succeeded in Soul trapping himself before he died. While his Soul remains inside the Star, nothing can be done to it, and it remains a Conduit of the Daedra’s Will. Unfortunately, the only Way to purge the Star of Varen’s Soul is to send another Soul into it to defeat his. My Soul. Stendarr preserve me.

     *

     Malyn Varen’s twisted Soul was no Match for the Light of Stendarr, nor were the Dremora he summoned. I awoke unharmed the next Morning, and Nelacar tells me that Azura’s Connection to the Black Star has been cut. Even so, I will take it the Hall of the Vigilant, to be kept in the Vault where it can bring no Harm to Mortalkind. 

     *

     Another Assassin attacked me in the Dead of Night just outside Winterhold, this Time clearly a Member of the Dark Brotherhood. There was nothing on her Person indicating who ordered my Death, but who could it be if not the Queen of Wayrest? Will I never be able to truly put my Past behind me?

     *

     Aranea Ienith was not happy to see me. The Priestess of Azura had to die. The Mercy of Stendarr does not extend to Daedra Worshipers.

     *

     Erandur and I may have signed our own Death Warrants. We attempted to cross the Mountains to the Southwest, rather than trek around them. We have been stumbling through a Snow Storm for two Days. We found the Bodies of a Family of Nords, likely Refugees from the War, who had succumbed to the Cold. As we stood there, reciting Stendarr’s Prayer over the Dead, a Rock Slide swept by not twenty Feet from us. Stendarr’s Mercy. Is this Azura’s Wrath? Will this Mountain be the Death of us?

     *

     At the Top of the Mountain, we found a strange Ruin shaped as an Amphitheater. Two Sorcerers had made this Place their Home, and they tried to scare us off with summoned Atronachs. We sent them and their stinking Demons to Oblivion. We found Shelter at the Base of a strange Wall covered in a Script I did not recognize. Erandur claims it might be ancient Nordic. Be that as it may, that Wall probably saved our Lives, shielding us from the Wind and the Snow until Morning.

     *

     Found the Remains of an Expedition exploring a dwarven Ruin. Several dead Bodies. Not old – there may be Survivors inside the Ruin itself. Erandur and I are in no Shape to rescue anyone, however; we need to find a Way down from this damned Mountain.

     *

     A lucky Break. A Man with a hunted Look approached us as we left the Expedition’s Camp. He offered little Help – he just handed us a Pair of enchanted Gauntlets and ran off. Soon afterwards, the Gauntlets’ true Owner appeared and offered us what Food and warm Pelts he could spare in Exchange for their Return – as well as the Direction in which the Thief had fled. Best of all, the Hunter pointed us towards a nearby Pass that will take us South across the Mountains.

     *

     The Wayward Pass, as it is known, proved our Salvation – even though another one of Queen Elysana’s Agents laid in Ambush for us. How she found us, I will never know. But even in our weakened State, she proved small Challenge for Stendarr’s might. We soon found ourselves looking upon the welcome Sight of the Nightgate Inn, promising hot Food and warm Beds. And Mead.

     *

     Ran into M’aiq on the Road West. He claims that the Rumors of War are greatly exaggerated. True, I have seen little Fighting… So who spreads these Lies, and why? Is it some vile Scheme hatched by Boethiah?

     *

     Found that Fort Fellhammer, just down the Road from the Hall, had been taken over by Bandits. Cleared them out before they could threaten our Home. Their Captain was a grizzled old Orc, Tough Bastard.

     *

     Met two Sisters of the Vigil – Askhild and Mivana – and joined them for the last Leg of the Journey to the Hall. They spoke of Brother Adalvald. He has been missing for some Time. Keeper Carcette is considering mounting an Expedition to investigate that Ruin he is always going on about.

     *

     Erandur and I were welcomed Home as Heroes. Although Adalvald’s Disappearance has everyone worried, the Conquest of the Black Star is a great Success for the Vigil. It now rests safely in the Vault beneath the Hall under the Keeper’s watchful Eye.

     *

     On the Road again. The Keeper wishes for the Order to establish a greater Presence in the Reach, so that is where Erandur and I are headed. I think it will be wisest to visit Markarth first, before continuing on to the outlying Villages… But I’m getting ahead of myself. The Road is long, and we are only just leaving the Hall. 

     *

     Granted another Follower of Malacath the “good Death” that he desired. Senseless waste of Life, but one poisoned by the Daedra. It must end. Stendarr will make it so.

     *

     Too long has Fort Dunstad been held by Bandits. Too long has it blocked the Road South from the Hall. Joined by many Brothers and Sisters, Erandur and I cleared it out. There is an Inn on the Grounds, The Stumbling Sabrecat. We piled in to celebrate our Victory, but found the Innkeeper murdered in his Bed downstairs. Drinking has been a somber Business tonight.

     *

     A Lead. Met a Man who was visibly ill. When questioned, he confessed himself a Follower of Peryite and credited the Demon with keeping his Disease from killing him. Ludicrous. More likely, the Daedric Prince gave him the Plague himself. When pressed, he gave me the Name and approximate Location of his “Shepherd”. Kesh, somewhere in the Reach. This Idolater must die.

     *

     M’aiq is holding Sermons by the Roadside now, for anyone willing to listen. Most seem to think he is crazy, but he has gathered a small Following of faithful Disciples. I have always known him to be wiser than he lets on, though I am not so sure that he is a Conduit for Julianos, as some believe. He did share some insightful Views on the Importance of being well prepared, though.

     *

     Disaster has struck. Kesh will have to wait. We met an Orc in Whiterun who was recruiting for a Group of Vampire Hunters calling themselves the Dawnguard. He claims that the Hall of the Vigilant has been destroyed and all within killed by Vampires. How? Erandur and I left the Hall less than a Month ago. It cannot be. 

     This Durak tells me that those of the Vigil who remain gather at Stendarr’s Beacon in the South of the Rift to coordinate with the Dawnguard and combat this Surge in Vampire Attacks. I had hoped to speak to the Jarl here in Whiterun, maybe gain an Ally for the Vigil, but it will have to wait. Erandur and I must hasten East immediately.

     *

     Following the White River East, we decided to make Camp in a Cave overlooking the Rapids. But, as they say: “Caves in the Mountains are seldom unoccupied”. A Group of Bandits operated out of this one. They were led by a big Brute of a Nord named Hajvarr. Found his Journal on his Body. Seems like the Band has been a Thorn in Jarl Balgruuf’s Side for quite some Time. I am certain that the God of Justice led me and Erandur here to mete out their Judgment.

     *

     Erandur speaks often of Mara. Though a proud Member of Stendarr’s Vigil, it is clear that his Heart will always belong to the Lady of Compassion. I take no Issue: it seems to me that Compassion and Mercy go Hand in Hand. And to hear him speak of how Mara gave him Purpose… Like myself, Erandur is a Man who has found Refuge from his dark Past in the loving Arms of a Divine. Though our Fellow Vigilants may grumble, all know that the Gods all stand together in the End.

     *

     Met a Cyrodiilian Nobleman named Plautis Carvain as we crossed the Darkwater River into Eastmarch. He said that he and his Wife were going to the Wedding of one Vittoria Vici, a Cousin of the Emperor. A Wedding. Political Schemes. Such simple, worldly Things. So frail, should the Daedra seek to destroy them. This is why we fight, Erandur and I. This is what we are protecting.

     *

     Found a Fort on the Edge of the volcanic Tundra. It was overrun by dark Mages. They were performing foul Rituals on the Bodies of dead Stormcloak Soldiers. They had to die for Stendarr’s Light to grow.

     *

     Met a Squad of Stormcloaks looking for their Comrades as we left the Fort. We offered our Condolences and told them that the Fort was theirs. They thanked us in the Name of Talos.

     *

     Stopped in Darkwater Crossing for the Night. Little Mining Community. Good, honest People. The Kind of Place that the Vigil fights to protect. Kind of Place that can make a Man dream of settling down. 

     *

     Came across two Redguard Warriors in exotic Clothes who were harassing a Woman. They claimed to be looking for someone, but they were clearly mistaken. Erandur convinced them to leave the poor Woman alone. He can be convincing when his Hands are aflame.

     *

     Shor’s Stone. Another little Mining Town. Filnjar, the Town Blacksmith, has told me that the Mine – and the whole Town’s Livelihood – in in Peril. Frostbite Spiders. Apparently came out of nowhere and forced the Miners to evacuate. Pest Control isn’t usually a Task for the Vigil, but the Mercy of Stendarr demands that we help these People.

     *

     Cleared the Mine with little Trouble, and spent a Night celebrating with the Townspeople. There was a Woman there. Sylgja. Seems like a good, strong Woman. She has been ill lately and needed someone to deliver something to her Parents in Darkwater Crossing. I would have liked to help her, had I not been headed in the opposite Direction. I would have liked to get to know her better. To rest, instead of always rushing onward. I feel tired sometimes, like I have not slept in Years. I would have liked to sleep in Shor’s Stone for a few more Nights.

     *

     Passed by another Fort occupied by Bandits. Why must they always attack?

     *

     Riften. The Den of Thieves. We have only been here an Afternoon, and shady Characters have already tried to recruit us for some Manner of Thievery or other thrice. We had trouble simply getting into the City: the Guard at the Gate tried to shake us down. Erandur wanted to continue on to Stendarr’s Beacon directly, and I am starting to agree with him. The Food and Beds here at the Bee and Barb had better be worth it.

     Maramal, a Priest of Mara, is here trying to turn People away from their Drinks. Good Luck. He and Erandur has been discussing Her Benevolence enthusiastically all Evening; I will not be surprised if Erandur requests a Visit at the local Temple before we leave tomorrow.

     *

     I met a charismatic young Mage in a Corner of the Tavern. His Name is Marcurio, and he has been offering his Services as a Mercenary to pay for his Drinks. I told him about the Vigil and our Work, and he expressed an Interest in joining. With the Order in Shambles, I cannot take him on right now, however. There is not even a Keeper to teach him our Lore.

     *

     Caught a Glimpse of my Reflection in the dirty Water of the Canal on our Way to the Temple this Morning. Hardly recognized the Face. I am not the same young Man who escaped the burning Castle in High Rock. He was little more than a Boy with hardly a Hair on his Chin. My full-grown Beard has become peppered with gray, of late. And the Crow’s Feet are new. Would Sibastion even recognize me, were he alive? No, I guess not. Not because of my Face, but because of who I am. The young Rebel cared for little else than gaining his big Brother’s Approval. And here I am, in the Service of a Divine. Well, he always did say that Father should have sent me off to become a Priest.

     *

     Going South from Riften, we encountered a Sorcerer performing some dark Ritual in a Ring of standing Stones. Abominable.

     *

     A Group of “Imperial soldiers” halted us on the Road, demanding Gold. When we refused to pay, they attacked. We later found the Bodies of the true Soldiers hidden nearby. The War is making Folk desperate.

     *

     A Storm made us seek Shelter in a small Cave. Had to fight off a Pack of Wolves, but a dry Night is worth it. The Cave’s previous Inhabitant was less successful: we found his Body atop a Rock where he had taken Refuge from the Beasts. His Camp and Supplies were welcome, however, so in Death he came to serve the God of Mercy.

     *

     We met a frightened Woman in torn Clothes wandering the Wilds. She had been captured by Bandits and kept at a Place she called Mistwatch until she managed to escape. She was reluctant to tell us the Details of her Captivity, so we did not pry. Erandur said a Prayer to Mara over her, and we pointed her towards Riften. Should check with the Guard next Time we are there, make sure that she is safe.

     *

     Came across a burned-down Hut, still smoking. Inside was the charred Body of a Man clutching a – suspiciously unharmed – Scroll detailing a Ritual for summoning a Flame Atronach. A summoning Circle of candles had been drawn on the Floor nearby. He had been playing with Fire, the foolish Bastard. That is what you get for summoning Demons.

     Finally, we have arrived at Stendarr’s Beacon. A rag-tag Group of Brothers met us, confirming what we had been told by the Dawnguard Recruiter. The Hall is destroyed; Keeper Carcette is dead. Luckily, not many Vigilants were at the Hall when it happened; most were out patrolling the Roads of Skyrim. Many have not yet reached the Beacon. The Order might yet survive. But to ensure that, the Vampires must be destroyed. Tolan, a senior Vigilant, has gone to seek the Aid of this Dawnguard, which has apparently recently been reformed from an older Organization by a former Member of our order, Isran. It has been decided that Erandur and I shall go and assist Tolan while the Rest of the Order continue to gather Strength at the Beacon.

     *

     Another one of Queen Elysana’s Agents found me on the Road to Dayspring Canyon where this Isran has made his Home. Will that Woman never cease to hunt me?

     *

     Fort Dawnguard. An impressive Building, though it has seen better Days. It seems like Isran has been rebuilding the Place more or less on his own for the last few Years. Only now, with the Vampire Attacks rising in Frequency, has he begun attracting Recruits. One of them, Celann, used to be a Vigilant alongside Isran. He claims that they were both dissatisfied with the Vigil’s Work and left after a Falling out with Keeper Carcette. Heretics, then. Uncomfortable. But they were right about the Vampires; Tolan has admitted as much. Despite the obvious bad Blood between Isran and the Vigil, Tolan has agreed to accept Isran’s Command, for now. We shared Brother Adalvald’s Information on Dimhollow Crypt, and Isran has ordered Tolan, Erandur and I to investigate.

     *

     Attacked by a Hagraven in the Woods. Filthy creature, born of dark Magicks.

     *

     Decided to hire a Carriage from Riften to Dawnstar. Take some Time to gather our Thoughts. Dimhollow is just a short Trek from the Hall… or whatever remains of it. It would be wrong for us to pass without paying our Respects.

     *

     It is true. I did not truly believe it until I saw it with my own Eyes, until I stood in the Ashes. The Hall is a smoking Ruin. Erandur and I were the First to return. To us fell the Duty of burying the Fallen. Jofrik, Askhild, Metina… Keeper Carcette. We buried them all in the Sight of Arkay and collected their Amulets. They will be honored when the Vigil rises anew. I was also able to recover the Black Star from the Vault. Thank Stendarr that the Artifact did not fall into the Hands of the undead Fiends.

     *

     Tolan was a Fool to enter the Cave without us. He was already dead at the Hands of the Bloodsuckers when we arrived. The Place was crawling with them. But there was something more; Erandur and I could both feel it. That Place held some ancient Evil, something that had been out of Stendarr’s Sight for Eons. Something that made our Stomachs turn. 

     Pushing deeper into the Crypt, we found Brother Adalvald, still alive, being interrogated by the Vampires. They slew him before we could stop them, and his Notebook contained few Answers. We had no Choice but to complete the Ritual that the Fiends had begun. It unlocked a Sarcophagus, and inside was a Woman – a Vampire – carrying an Elder Scroll, those enigmatic Texts of unknown Origin holding Secrets of Past and Future. 

     I should have killed her right then, had she not been our only Clue as to what is going on. Serana is reluctant to share any real Information about herself, but she is adamant that she needs to be escorted to her ancestral Home off the Coast of Haafingar to the West. I have agreed to play along for now, in Spite of Erandur’s Objections.

     *

     The Situation calls for both Speed and a Bit of Strategy. I am writing this at the Docks in Dawnstar. Here, I have found a Captain of a small Skiff who is willing to take Serana and myself to Solitude. Erandur will not be joining us. I have instructed him to remain in Dawnstar and send Word to Isran of what has transpired in Case I do not return. After that, he will petition the Jarl for Aid in rebuilding the Hall of the Vigilant. It took some Convincing, but I was eventually able to make him see the Wisdom of my Plan. It is with the manifold Blessings of Mara that I set Sail West with the undead Girl in tow.

     *

     Serana is not the wicked Demon that I expected. Instead, she has proven herself to be a charming travel Companion – albeit a tight-lipped one. It is clear that the Prospect of meeting her Father fills her with Dread, and it makes her Silence grow deeper the closer we get to our Destination.

     *

     The Coast of the Sea of Ghosts is a desolate Place, almost devoid of Human Habitation – only icy Spray crashing against black Sand as far as the Eye can see. And out there, like a broken, black Tooth sticking out of the iron gray Waves, is our Goal – Castle Volkihar. I have no Way of knowing what will befall me in that Hive of Monsters, but it is likely that I go to my Death. But should the worst come to pass, I die in the Service of the God of Mercy. Perhaps then the Souls who haunt my Dreams will finally find Peace.

     *

     It is worse than I ever could have expected. The Castle is filled with Vampires of a Breed older and more powerful than any described in the Library at the Hall. Serana’s Father, Lord Harkon, was able to assume a terrible – monstrous – Form. And now they have an Elder Scroll, with which they plan to do Gods-know-what. It was only because of Harkon’s Gratitude for my Service – I seethe to admit – in returning the Scroll and his Daughter that I was allowed to leave with my Life. I must return to Fort Dawnguard at once. Isran must learn of this.

     *

     So far my Journey back to the Rift has been uneventful, if long and wearying. A Letter from Erandur awaited me when I made Port in Windhelm. It seems that Jarl Skald is suspicious of the Vigil, believing us to be in League with the Empire. He has proven unwilling to support any Reestablishment of a Hall of the Vigilant in the Pale, despite Erandur’s best Efforts to persuade him otherwise. I had hoped that we could be reunited now that I am back from inside the Belly of the Beast, but for now, it is better that he remains in Dawnstar. He has gathered a Number of Brothers and Sisters in Nightcaller Temple – making it an unofficial Hall – and is sending them out on Patrol in an Attempt to normalize Things.

     On a lighter Note, I ran into Suvaris Atheron, a Dunmer Woman that I once befriended, at the Docks in Windhelm. She gave me a Pair of Boots “for the Sake of our Friendship”. Not sure what to make of this. Some dark Elf Courtship Ritual? Will ask Erandur.

     *

     I came back to Fort Dawnguard just as it was attacked by Vampires. We killed them easily enough, but the Boldness of the Attack is not a good Sign. Isran is displeased with me, and he has every Right to be. That sacrificing my life would not have deprived Lord Harkon of his Elder Scroll seems like a weak Excuse, even to me. But not even the Gods can change the Past, as they say. We agreed that the only rational next Step is to step up our Recruitment. I am being sent to find two Experts that Isran has worked with in the Past: Sorine Jurard, a natural Philosopher out in the Reach, and Gunmar, some Kind of Animal Trainer near Ivarstead. Seems like a Task that a Messenger or Courier could manage, but Isran does not seem to have much Confidence in my Abilities, or in those of my Brothers. He speaks of the Vigil with a Disdain that vexes me. I will do as he says for now, as will the Order; but I have little hope of our two Organizations maintaining an amiable Relationship once the current Crisis has passed.

     *

     The Vigil is still in Disarray. In the Absence of a proper Keeper, we have had to divide our Forces under a fractured Leadership: Erandur has his People in the North focus on aiding the Vampire Victims, while Vigilant Torhald at Stendarr’s Beacon and his Men in the South try to reestablish the Order’s Presence on the Roads and conduct Investigations into suspected Daedra Activity. I lead those Vigilants coordinating with Isran and the Dawnguard, seeking out any and all Leads we can find on these Volkihar Vampires. It seems to be working so far, but once Things settle we will have to elect a new Keeper to stay the Order from fracturing further.

     *

     Met a Group of Warriors outside Riften who called themselves the Companions. Mercenaries out of Whiterun. Seemed honorable enough – like most Nord Warriors – but something about their Leader, Farkas, made my Nose twitch. Could have sworn the Man had Fur coming out of his Ears.

     *

     Met Marcurio in Riften. He has been out of Work since Erandur and I last passed through, more than three Months ago. I have agreed to let him travel with me for a Time, and to begin teaching him the Ways of the Vigil. He is a sharp young Man and eager to learn; I just wish that the Order had not been in such a sorry State. Still, new Recruits are essential to our Survival. With the Help of Marcurio and others like him, the Vigil of Stendarr will become great again.

     *

     The Boy has proven himself to be quite the Warrior, if a Bit proud. He handled himself well as we cleared an old Castle North of Lake Honrich today. A jarring Discovery awaited us at the Top of the Tower. Among the Possessions of the Bandit Chief, I found a strange, white Stone Orb. Its Surface was warm to the Touch and covered in geometric Facets. As I touched it, my Soul was once again violated by the Intrusion of a Daedric Prince. Like Vaermina many Years before her, Meridia spoke in the Depth of my Heart. She spoke of a Temple erected in her Honor, now marred by Darkness. She wills for me to purge it. I refuse to be the Pawn of a Demon. Still; Meridia’s Sphere is the Energies of living Things, and she is known to despise the Undead. Should my Path bring me near Mount Kilkreath, I will go there and see this Infestation for myself.

     *

     Continuing West, Marcurio and I have stumbled on what seems to be a Skooma Den hidden beneath a Ruined Hovel in the Forest. We have decided to pose as Buyers and investigate.

     *

     Never should have been dumb enough to actually sample the Skooma. Never would have, had not one of the Patrons been an Imperial Deserter who recognized me from Helgen. I had to take the Stuff to avoid Suspicion – and to silence Marcurio, who full of youthful Curiosity wanted us to try it – and of course it was a knock-out Potion.

     Even so, I guess that my Mistake did yield interesting Results. The Operation turned out to be run by Vampires who fed off their drugged Customers. Vile. But it was more than that. The Skooma Den was built atop a Nordic Ruin, at the Heart of which we found a Wellspring pouring forth, not Water, but darkest Blood. We slew all we found within, including the Master Vampire. Among his Things, we found a Journal and a Research Log Book telling a blood-curdling Tale: this Venarus Vulpin had used the “Bloodspring” to herd People like Cattle, and he was on the Cusp of discovering a Way to unlock the Spring’s Potential as an endless Source of Power and Sustenance for him and his undead Brethren. We destroyed him before his Work was complete, but there is no Telling who else might have known of it. I shall bring his Tomes to the Vigil. Our Scholars – those that remain – shall study them in Search of Clues as to the Whereabouts of this blasphemous Bloodspring Chalice. It will be found and kept safe with the Order, and this foul Place will be buried and forgotten. May the Light of Stendarr preserve us all.

     *

     Met one of Torhald’s People who was hunting down a Vampire just East of Ivarstead. Dunmer Woman, think her Name is Itharel. Was surprised to see her alone, as we Vigilants usually hunt in Pairs, if not in bigger Groups. She revealed that her Partner had been slain by the Fiend that she was now hunting. Marcurio and I helped her find her Vengeance.

     *

     Found this Gunmar Fellow tracking a Bear near Ivarstead. He was reluctant to work with Isran again, but he agreed to return to Fort Dawnguard once I had explained the Situation to him. And helped him kill his Bear.

     *

     Spent the Night in a small Shack that seems to recently have belonged to an Alchemist. Tomorrow begins the Climb to cross West over the Mountains, towards Helgen and onward into Falkreath Hold.

     *

     Met another Farmer devastated by the returning Dragons. I have yet to encounter one of the Beasts myself, but the Stories are everywhere. Had the Vigil been at full Strength I am certain that we would have been looking into the Issue. As it is, a few gold Septims were all the Aid I had to offer.

     *

     Passed through Helgen today. Never thought I would return. The Town was never rebuilt after the Dragon Attack. Now the Ruins are Home to Bandits and other Lowlifes. Felt their Eyes on me as we moved through the sooty Streets, but killing a Few discouraged the Rest from causing Trouble.

     Passed through Falkreath. Gloomy Place. Marcurio wanted to stop at the Inn for a Pint, but we really do not have the Time for Distractions. Instead, we stocked up on Supplies at the general Store and went on our Way. It is still a long Way to Markarth.

     *

     Taking a Shortcut through the Woods West of Falkreath, Marcurio and I stumbled upon a Death Mage who was performing a Ritual at a blood-stained Shrine in a Glade. Stendarr’s Light has chased her Darkness from the World.

     *

     Queen Elysana will not relent. Attacked by three Thugs in the Forest. As long as she keeps sending Assassins, I will have to keep killing them in self-Defense. It is a senseless, pointless Loss of Life, abhorrent in the Eyes of the God of Mercy, and it has to end. I had hoped to let the Name of Biencel die, but that is no longer an Option. I have written a Letter explaining my Involvement in my Brother’s Rebellion and expressing my deepest Regrets. I am sending it to Torhald at Stendarr’s Beacon, to have him forward it to the Grand Keeper in Cyrodiil. I am asking that the Vigil appeal to the Queen on my Behalf. Perhaps if she can be made to see that I am paying my Dues in the Service of Stendarr, she can forgive me.

     And maybe then, I will have Peace.

     *

     The Reach. A Land of narrow Gorges and swift Rivers. We will begin our Search for Jurard by inquiring in Markarth. It seems the likely Place for a Scholar on the Dwemer to gather Supplies for an Expedition.

     *

     We have only just arrived, and Markarth is already proving more Trouble than it is worth. I stopped a would-be Assassin from stabbing a Woman in the Marketplace just inside the Gates. After interviewing the Witnesses, I have concluded that the Attack was Part of some political Unrest between the Nords and my Brother Bretons, who are native to this Land. No Business for the Vigil, even if I wanted to get involved. I will leave it to the City Guards. They did not seem to want my Help, anyway. Of course, the Market was in an Uproar after what happened. Of the few People that I managed to get something other than hysterical Babble out of, none remember a Breton natural Philosopher passing through. Just my Luck.

     *

     Made our Way up to the Understone Keep. I had heard that the great Scholar Calcelmo is leading an Excavation there. He is Tamriel’s foremost Expert on the Dwemer – and surely someone that Sorine Jurard would want to meet. Sure enough – The old Man had met the Girl some Weeks earlier and discussed her Findings. He pointed me toward the Site that she is Excavating, North past Karthwasten and then West along one of the Karth’s Tributaries.

     *

     On our Way out of the Keep, Marcurio and I were approached by Verulus, the Priest of Arkay who oversees Markarth’s Hall of the Dead. He wanted my Expert Opinion on a serious Matter: Bodies in the Crypt have been desecrated. Eaten. It sounded like Draugr to me, maybe even a Werewolf. I agreed to investigate.

     What we found was even worse. A Cannibal – a Woman in the Service of the Daedric Prince Namira. She had the Gall to try to convince me to join her, to tempt me into eating Human Flesh. I did not find the Proposal as tempting as she had supposed. Namira has lost a Servant, but I fear that there are more in the Area. The Vigil of Stendarr will drag them into the Light.

     *

     Another Tragedy at the Hands of the filthy Daedra. As we were leaving the City, Marcurio and I came across Vigilant Tyranus, one of Torhald’s Men. He suspected that a House in the City had been a Site of Daedra Worship, and he asked our Assistance in his Investigation.

    He was quite right. Once inside, the despicable Voice of Molag Bal commanded us to kill one another. Brother Tyranus proved too weak to endure the Demon’s Threats: he attacked us in a Panic, and Marcurio was forced to strike him down. Molag Bal demands our Help with bringing a Follower of his Rival Boethiah to his Shrine for Punishment. He shall not have our Aid – but the Heretic will be destroyed.

     *

     Moving North along the swift Karth River, we were attacked by a Group of Forsworn. Sad. These are my own Breton Brothers and Sisters, honoring the Old Gods and fighting to reclaim a Land that once was theirs. While I sympathize with their Cause, I cannot support it. I would tell them what I should have told Sibastion all those Years ago – that open Rebellion leads not to Victory, but only to Blood.

     *

    A Highwayman tried to rob us outside of Karthwasten. Marcurio is less forgiving than I – as are his Lightning Bolts. I shall endeavor to explain the Concept of Stendarr’s Mercy in more Detail.

     *

     Stopped in Karthwasten for Supplies and found the Town Mine occupied by Brigands. I convinced them to leave – peacefully, for once.

     *

     M’aiq is still moving up in the World. He held a Sermon on a Hill about the Importance of listening to the People around you. He truly is a Spark of Light in a dark Age.

     *

     Found the Body of a young Girl in a shallow Pool in the Hills. Riddled with Forsworn Arrows. I agree even less with their Cause now. “Cause”. This was Murder, plain and simple.

     *

     Kesh the Clean. Finally found that Daedra-worshipping Scum, tending to a Shrine to Peryite on a Hilltop. Marcurio thinks that it was pure Luck that we stumbled over it while taking a Shortcut through the Foothills of the Druadach Mountains. I say Stendarr led us there. Before he died, Kesh spoke of Bthardamz, a Place where Plague-ridden Followers of Peryite gather. They must be cleansed lest their Sickness spread.

     *

     The Afflicted have been dealt with – those few there were. The Entrance to the actual Ruin was blocked, however, and I fear there might be more still within. The Vigil shall return, bearing the Light of Stendarr into these Shadows.

     *

     We have found Sorine Jurard, at long last. Just like Gunmar – just like everyone I have talked to so far – she was reluctant to return into Isran’s Service. But like Isran had told me, she is a smart Girl, and it did not take much for her to see the Severity of the Situation. She will travel to Fort Dawnguard. As will Marcurio and I, once we have dealt with this Priest that Molag Bal would see punished.

     *

     The Priest of Boethiah was captured and held by the Forsworn. As I might have guessed, they refused to surrender the Sinner into our Custody. Instead they attacked – and were destroyed. I have come to believe that they are driven by some darker Force than mere misguided Ideology. Examining one of their Leaders, I found that he had had his Heart replaced with a Seed Pod from some Briar – supposedly for some magical Reward. This is Magic of a Kind that I have never heard of, and I shudder to think where the Forsworn may have learned it. I am seeing a lot of Evidence in the Camp of the Natives slaying and dismembering Spriggans – Spriggans, who are the purest and most innocent Nature Spirits on Nirn. It begs further Investigation.

     I have let Logrolf, the Priest, go free for now. I should have killed him, but I believe that I may be able to play the two Princes against one another.

     *

     Uneventful Trip back to Markarth. Arrived at Molag Bal’s Altar just in Time to see Boethiah’s Priest be crushed into Submission by the Lord of Domination. Disgusting. I executed the Heretic in the Name of Stendarr. The Daedra rewarded me with his fabled Mace, but I will never be his. The Mace of Molag Bal will be kept in the new Vault of the Vigil, once it has been built, never to spread its dark Influence in the World of Mortals again.

     *

     Hired a Carriage back to Riften. Slept most of the Way. First Time in Ages that I have had the Time to rest my Legs for more than a few Hours at a Time.

     *

     Arrived at Stendarr’s Beacon to deliver the Mace and the Black Star to Torhald. He has had Word from Erandur, and it is not good: there have been several more Vampire Attacks, and aiding the Victims – specifically the crucial Task of purifying any that might have contracted Vampirism – is proving too much for his small Group of Vigilants. He has contacted the Priesthood of Mara, and a Number of their Healers have joined him at Nightcaller Temple. The Situation is growing untenable. It is Time that I return to Fort Dawnguard.

     *

     Serana has showed up on the Dawnguard’s Doorstep, looking for me. She is brave, I will give her that. Isran was suspicious, to say the least. So was I, but the Vampiress has put herself at great Risk by seeking us out. And she has brought us the Elder Scroll, a Betrayal that her Father will not take kindly to. She claims that Lord Harkon could potentially use the Scroll to somehow weaken the Sun’s Power over the Undead, allowing them to move freely in Daylight. This would be a Disaster. Trusting Serana is now our only Hope of stopping the Volkihar Vampires from enslaving every Mortal in Tamriel. Even Isran, extreme that he is, can see this. 

     I am to join Serana in a Search for a Moth Priest who is rumored to be somewhere in Skyrim, as he might be the only one within a Thousand Miles who can read the Scroll. I have ordered Marcurio to rent a Room at The Bee and Barb in Riften, ostensibly to serve as Liaison between the Vigilants in the Field and our Dawnguard Allies. In Truth, I fear that the Things I will have to do over the coming Weeks will be too dangerous for the Boy. I am telling Alfrida to take him under her Wing for now, and continue his Education. Meanwhile, in Lieu of a solid Lead, Serana and I will begin our Search for this Priest by simply asking around in Riften.

     *

     Caught a Pair of Vampires scouting out the Mouth of Dayspring Canyon as we were leaving for Riften. They are testing the Dawnguard’s Defenses. It will not be long before the Fort comes under a full-Scale Attack. We must find this Priest fast.

     *

     Spotted another Group of Vampires hunting along the Road to Riften, less than two Days out from the Fort. As soon as we reach the City, I will send a Letter to Isran advising him to step up his Guard Patrols. I will also send Word to Torhald at the Beacon, requesting that he puts more Vigilants on the Roads here in the Rift.

     *

     Serana is beginning to earn my Trust. She restricts her Appetites to Animals, though if this is merely out of Respect for me or Part of her genuine Beliefs I cannot say. When I question her about her Vampirism she becomes defensive. I have learned that she was not infected with the Sickness, but chose it herself. Her whole Family received the tainted Blood as a Reward directly from the Foul Molag Bal. Disgusting. Worse, she shows few Signs of regretting the Decision. Even so, I doubt that she would betray me – I sense that she genuinely cares for the Mortals that we seek to protect.

     *

     No one in Riften’s Marketplace or at the Inn had heard anything about the Moth Priest, but a Carriage-Driver at the Stables had met the Scholar recently. The Man was even willing to share the Priest’s intended Destination – in Exchange for a Purse of Gold. Dragon Bridge, on the Border between Haafingar and the Reach. It is not one of the Carriage-Man’s Stops, but he is willing to take us as far as Solitude. For another few Septims, naturally.

     *

     I have been reading through some of my old Journal Entries to pass the Time on the Road. Hard to believe that it has been more than Fifteen Years since Helgen. Fifteen Years in the Service of the God of Mercy. I am now a Senior Member of the Vigil, a far Cry from the miserable Whelp who once stumbled into the Hall crying for Guidance from the Keeper.

     *

     The Road West to Dragon Bridge has brought us into the Shadow of Mount Kilkreath. I have carried Meridia’s Beacon for more than a Year, strangely reluctant to leave it in Torhald’s Keeping. I refuse to do the Bidding of a Daedra… but I have been hearing Rumors of strange Attacks in the Area surrounding Meridia’s temple. I suspect that the Creatures responsible are the same ones that the Demon wishes for me to destroy. It is my Duty to Stendarr to investigate, but I must tread carefully.

     *

     Meridia has spoken to me. As I placed her Beacon at the Foot of her Statue, she appeared to me as a Mote of Light in the dark Sky. Serana claims to have seen Nothing, but I know that it was real. The Demon bids me to guide her Light through the darkened Temple below, to retrieve her Sword and destroy the Necromancer who has defiled it. 

     My Heart is torn. How can the Voice of a vile Daedra ring with the Words of Stendarr? As I chase these Shadows away, will I be spreading the Light of the God of Mercy, or of Meridia?

     *

     It is done. The Death Mage Malkoran is vanquished, and I hold in my hand the Dawnbreaker, Meridia’s bright Sword. The Daedra has named me her Herald and bid me go forth and cleanse the World of Undead. I refused, told her that I am a Servant of the God of Mercy and will never belong to a Demon. But how can that be true, if Stendarr’s Work and Meridia’s are the same? The Demon tells me that her Light will shine through me however I name it, that her Influence will grow through my Deeds whether I will it so or not. Stendarr is silent. Whom do I truly serve?

     But I must not falter. I renounce Meridia. Her Dawnbreaker will go to the Vault, never to be wielded by a Mortal Hand. The Work that I do, I do for the God of Mercy.

     *

     Reached Dragon Bridge after Sundown and let a Room at the Four Shields Tavern. The Innkeeper, Faida, has heard Nothing of the Moth Priest. We will begin questioning the other Townspeople in the Morning.

     *

     Found a Guard who has seen the Priest pass through Town with a Company of Guards not long ago. They were heading South across the great Bridge.

     *

     Found the Priest’s Carriage upturned in the Road a Day’s Travel South of Dragon Bridge. Surrounding it were the Bodies of several imperial Legionnaires – and one Vampire. No Sign of the Priest, but the Creature carried a Note with Instructions to Capture him alive and bring him to a nearby Cave. Serana and I are heading there now, following an ominous Blood Trail.

     *

     Freed the Priest, Dexion, from the Vampires. He was alive and unharmed – because he was being kept that Way. I fear that the Vampires wanted him for the same Reason we do: to read the Elder Scroll. Likely, this means that the Fiends have set some Plan in Motion to recover the Scroll itself. Serana still carries it with her, but the Volkihar might assume that it is held in Fort Dawnguard. We must return with Dexion immediately.

     *

     Spent much of the Ride back to Riften staring at Dawnbreaker, pondering it. It shines with so bright a Light. It is so real. As was Meridia. I heard her Voice, saw her Shape wreathed in Light. Stendarr has never spoken to me. I have never seen the Light of his Mercy.

     But I feel it inside. It is what drives me on, what has shaped me into who I am. That Stendarr does not speak to me means only that he does not have to. Where the Daedra must whisper and coerce, the Divines shape the World simply by their Being. And if Meridia’s Goals are the same as those of the Vigil, that means simply that she too is a Servant of the God of Mercy.

     *

     Torhald is reluctant to agree with my Musings on Meridia, but I have discussed my Experiences with a few of the Order’s Scholars here at the Beacon. They have agreed that mine is an interesting Theory, and will search the Records for other Instances where the Lady of Infinite Energies have done Stendarr’s Work. Perhaps it is Time to review the Vigil’s Doctrine. It will have to wait, however, until the Order has been properly rebuilt.

     *

     The Dawnguard is growing quickly, filling up with more eager Recruits each Day. Dexion is preparing for his Reading of the Scroll. Hopefully, we can soon have Peace again.

     *

     Reading the Scroll raised more Questions than it answered. The only tangible Information we have learned is that we will need to find two more Elder Scrolls to find the full Prophecy and learn how to stop Harkon. Serana tells me that her long lost Mother might possess one, and that returning to Castle Volkihar is our best Bet on how to find her. It sounds risky, but I have chosen to trust her. However, there are other Matters to attend to: Isran has asked me to find and enlist the Aid of a former Priest of Arkay who is working with the Vigil at an Excavation Site not far from Shor’s Stone. I have sent Serana ahead to Haafingar: there are some of the Order’s Activities that a Vampire should not be privy to.

     I have enlisted the Services of Beleval, one of the newer Dawnguard Recruits, and her War-Hound Bran. I fear that I might need her Aid: according to Marcurio, the Brothers at Ruunvald stopped reporting in some Time ago.

     *

     We have made it safely to Ruunvald, though the Climb up the Mountainside was taxing. The Guard Post outside is deserted. I found the Journal of Brother Volk, describing strange Behaviors among the Brothers. Beleval and I will rest up here tonight, then head into the Ruins proper tomorrow Morning.

     *

     Stendarr preserve me. We found the Vigilants at the Excavation under some Spell that drove them to attack us. I was forced to slay many Brothers – among them Vigilant Volk, who I used to train with at the old Hall. A deceitful Witch who called herself Minorne had managed to charm Brother Moric and the others. I found a Notebook of his Ramblings where he spoke of her as a Goddess. Blasphemy.

     We did find the Priest unharmed, though: it seems that his Devotion to Arkay has protected him from the Witch’s Charms. He is not what I expected. He claims that Arkay speaks to him. I was tempted to leave him in his Cage. But how many Daedra have not spoken in my Mind, as clear as my own Thoughts? Who am I to gainsay him?

     *

     Found a Khajiit Merchant and his Cart crushed to Pieces by the Roadside South of Kynesgrove. Usually, I would have tried to find the Culprits, but this Time the Case was obvious: the Cat had strayed too close to the nearby Giant’s Camp. Giants are viewed as Mortals in the Code of the Vigil, so the Order does not interfere with them unless they are proven to cavort with Daedra. Nor was there any Justice to be meted out by the Laws of Men: most of Skyrim’s Holds recognize the Giants as a separate Culture, and their Mammoth Herds and Encampments as their sovereign Domain – and the Khajiit was clearly encroaching.

     *

     M’aiq is becoming a living Myth among his Followers. Moving through the Crowd at one of his Sermons, I heard Whispers about the Prophet springing into Existence full-grown, Beard, Mane and all. He told me privately that he has no use for such Mysticism, but I suspect that he might be spreading these Rumors himself. The old Cat is not without Pride.

     *

     Stopped for an Ale at the Braidwood Inn in Kynesgrove. May have had one too many and made a Pass at Beleval. Woke up with Hangover and Dog Bite.

     *

     Arrived at Windhelm this Afternoon. I have instructed Beleval to return to the Dawnguard with her Hound. She has been rather frosty these past few Days, and I fear that I deserved it. She could not have accompanied me for the Rest of the Journey, anyway.

     I have found a Bargeman willing to take me to the Volkihar Island, where Serana is waiting.

     *

     The Island is even drearier than I remembered. Serana has led me to a Side Entrance through which we can enter the Castle undetected. May Stendarr’s Light shine upon me in this dark Place.

     *

     We have reached the Courtyard, dilapidated and overgrown. We had to crawl through the Castle’s under-Croft filled with Death Hounds and Vermin to get here, but we are here. Now we just need to find a Clue as to where Serana’s Mother might be.

     *

     We have found the hidden Laboratory of Serana’s mother, Valerica, ingeniously concealed within Harkon’s own Castle. Her Journal indicates that she has taken Refuge within the Soul Cairn, an otherworldly Realm which consumes the Remnants of those unfortunate Souls captured by Sorcerers once their Energies have been spent. We intend to follow her, using the Method described in her Notes. Unfortunately, the Soul Cairn will not suffer the Living to enter. There is no Way in for me while my Soul remains intact. Serana, the Neophyte Necromancer, has come up with two equally distasteful Solutions. I refuse to to become a Vampire, so instead I will allow this sweet-faced Demon to partially Soul-trap me, trusting that she can – and will – restore me afterwards. Stendarr help me, for in Thy merciful Hands I place my Life.

     *

     The Ritual worked. My Soul was rent asunder, and I was able to enter the Soul Cairn. My Memories are hazy and fragmented. I remember a weary, gray Plain dotted with painful black Ruins under a dark regretful Sky. I vaguely recall battling a rotting, skeletal Dragon reeking of Pestilence and old Honor. These Memories are like the Tatters of a half-forgotten Nightmare, leaving only a sour Taste and a beating Heart in its Wake. My Soul, now remade, refuses to let them float upon its Surface.

     Serana tells me that we did find her Mother and that she has revealed that it is Serana’s own Blood and the mythical Auriel’s Bow which holds the Key to Harkon’s Prophesy. Beyond that, the Girl prefers to keep the Details to herself. I only know that we have emerged from the Soul Cairn with the Elder Scroll – and without Valerica. 

     *

     We slunk out of Harkon’s great Castle as Thieves in the Night, carrying Valerica’s Elder Scroll hence from his greedy Hands. Now begins the Search for the final Scroll. We head for Winterhold, Home to the great College of Mages which stands as a Monument to Knowledge.

     *

     Were attacked by Thalmor Agents on the Road East of Solitude. Queen Elysana is not alone in desiring Vengeance for Sibastion’s Rebellion, it seems. The great and powerful Aldmeri Dominion will also see me pay for my Brother’s Folly. 

     *

     Met M’aiq traveling with his Followers. Talsgar was among them. It seems that the Bard has taken it upon himself to record the Prophet’s Teachings and to chronicle his life. Good. The Wanderer always struck me as a good Man lacking a good Cause. And M’aiq’s Words are worthy of being made into Song. 

     The Cat that was once known as “the Liar” has come a long Way.

     *

     Winterhold. 

     Although the Vigil maintains close Ties to the College, and our Scholars often consult both the Mages and their Library, this is the first Time that I have visited the ancient Institution. With the Assistance of a rather abrasive old Librarian, Serana and I have scoured the Place for every Scrap of Information on the Elder Scrolls, however small. The only Lead that we have been able to turn up points us to Septimus Signus, a former Member of the College – and missing since a Number of Years. He was last heard of searching for a Dwemer Artifact in the vast Ice Fields to the North.

     I shall have to procure a Winter Robe.

     *

     Received a Letter from Erandur this Morning. I miss having my old Friend by my Side, but he seems to be thriving in his Role as Warden of the Vigil in the North. He tells me that he has begun Cross-training Recruits in the Practices of both the Vigil and of the Priesthood of Mara, focusing on Healing and caring for the Sick. The Vampires are growing bolder and wreaking Havoc across the North, and Healers are in short Supply. 

     I can see his Point, but I doubt that Torhald would agree with the Direction that Erandur is taking his Chapter of the Order in. The Vigilants are Warriors, not Nurses, he would say. I have sent Letters to both of the Chapters, extolling on the Need for Unity in these trying Times.

     *

     The Journey North has been taxing. Long Days and longer Nights spent cramped in a small Boat, cut to the Bone by the icy Wind and salty Spray. It reminded me far too much of the Time when Erandur and I lost our Way on the Mountain. But we see it in the Distance, at last: the forlorn Outpost of Septimus Signus.

     *

     The Mage has clearly gone mad in his Isolation. His Speech borders on inane Babble, but does not quite cross: he did tell me where to find the Scroll, and provided me with the Tools that I will need to reach it.

     *

     Hidden among the snowy Peaks West of Winterhold we have found it at last: Alftand. I realize that I have been here before, during my Misadventure with Erandur Years ago. This was where we found the Bodies of an ill-fated Expedition to the Ruin. They are still here. There can be no Hope of finding them alive now, however – not after all this Time.

     *

     We have clawed our way through Alftand – through the primitive, blind Falmer as well as through old dwarven Machines still bent on deterring Intruders – and we have made it down into Blackreach. 

     It is a wondrous Place – a massive Cavern illuminated by giant, glowing Mushrooms – but dangerous, as well. Since the Dwemer disappeared, the Falmer have made these Ruins their Home. They will make our Search more difficult. They are twisted Creatures, but are they evil? One would guess that their warped Shapes are the Result of some repulsive Form of Daedra Worship, but one cannot act on Guesses alone. We might never know what blinded the Falmer, and until we do, the Vigil will not move against them. Every Life I take today, I will beg Stendarr’s Forgiveness for tomorrow.

     *

     We have passed through Blackreach without too much Trouble from the Falmer or their Chaurus Insects, and we have found our Way up into the Tower Mzark. According to Signus, this is where the Elder Scroll is located. We have made Camp and will rest for a few Hours before moving on.

     *

     We have the Scroll. With the Key given to me by Signus, it was just a Matter of working out how to operate the Dwemer Machinery in order to release it. Serana and I have emerged in the Mountains just South of the old Hall of the Vigilant in the Pale, many Scores of Miles from where we descended into Alftand. 

     We shall go to visit Erandur in Dawnstar and rest up in the Company of my Brothers, before taking a Carriage back to Riften and the Dawnguard.

     *

     Sent a Prayer to the God of Mercy as we passed the old Hall. I still carry the Amulets that I have gathered from the Fallen, and I will do so until a new Hall has been erected and they can be displayed there with the Honor that they deserve.

*

     As Serana and I entered Dawnstar, I was handed a Pamphlet advertising a new Museum that has recently opened up in Town – a Museum dedicated to the Mythic Dawn, a Cult of Daedra Worshipers who assassinated the last Septim Emperor two hundred Years ago in the Name of Mehrunes Dagon, the Lord of Destruction and Change. They started the Oblivion Crisis, an unprecedented Calamity that saw Daedra pour into our World and cause untold Destruction. Preventing such an Atrocity from ever happening again was one of the primary Motivations for the Founding of the Vigil. I had to investigate.

     The Owner of the Museum, Silus Vesuius, seemed a little too proud of his heretical Ancestors in the Dawn. I instantly suspected that there is more to this Museum than just teaching History. Vesuius discreetly offered Serana and I a Job – taking us for wandering Adventurers; we have the Look. He wants us to find the Pieces of Mehrunes’ Razor, a fabled Daedric Artifact. I listened closely to the Leads that he has gathered and accepted the “Job”, but I have no Intention of delivering the Artifact into his slippery Hands. The Razor will be kept under Lock and Key by the Vigil, and should I find the slightest Shred of Evidence suggesting that Vesuius worships Dagon himself, then he will be destroyed.

     I have more pressing Matters to attend to, however: I will bring this Information to Erandur and leave the Investigation to his People at Nightcaller Temple.

     *

     Spent a few Days resting with the Vigil of the North. How I have missed Erandur! I wish that he could join Serana and me in the Fight against the Volkihar. But he is needed here, leading the northern Chapter of the Vigil in the Efforts to Aid the Victims of the Conflict. He has agreed to begin the Search for Mehrunes’ Razor, as well as to keeping a close Eye on Vesuius himself.

     Jarl Skald is still being uncooperative, and the Vigil cannot openly operate in Dawnstar. I wish that I could help, but I must leave my Brother to his Worries and head back South.

     *

     Visited Torhald at the Beacon on our Way back to Fort Dawnguard. He has received Word from the Grand Keeper in the Imperial City. The Vigil’s official Stance is that my Service to the Order redeems me of my past Sins in the Eyes of Stendarr. An Appeal has been made to Queen Elysana for my Pardon, and she has replied that as long as I remain in Exile I will be left alone – but I remain a condemned Man within the Borders of the Kingdom of Wayrest. 

     Fine by me. I had not intended to return to my Motherland, where nothing but long cold Ashes would welcome me Home. The greater Relief is that the Divine has forgiven me my Transgressions.

*

     A Refugee Camp has sprung up in Dayspring Canyon, filling up with People seeking Shelter from the Vampire Attacks. Isran will not let them into the Keep proper, but at least he lets them stay inside the outer Fortifications. I shall have a few of my Vigilants tend to their Well-Being.

     *

     A Setback. Dexion has been blinded by his rash Reading of the first Elder Scroll, and he will be of no Use deciphering the ones I have gathered. Instead, he has given me Instructions in how to perform a Ritual to be able to read the Scrolls myself. If I am ever to find this Auriel’s Bow and defeat Harkon, I must travel to the Ancestor Glade in the Depth of the Pine Forest in Falkreath Hold and perform the Ritual of the Ancestor Moth.

     Bugs. Stendarr preserve me.

     *

     Met a young Man in the Forest who was trying to reanimate a dead Wolf. It was quite clear that he had no magical Talent whatsoever. Even so, I sternly advised him to steer clear of Necromancy. I told him to visit Stendarr’s Beacon, instead – the Vigil can always use more Members with his Kind of Enthusiasm. 

     *

     Surprised a Cannibal just as he was about to gorge himself on the Flesh of a young Woman. Disgusting. The Mercy of Stendarr does not extend to such Evildoers. 

     *

     A Nest of Vipers. As we traveled West through the Rift, Serana and I came across an Orc Stronghold. The Tribesmen were defending their Home against an attacking Giant. Stendarr’s Mercy compelled me to aid them. But once the Giant lay dead, the Stronghold’s Shaman approached me and explained that the Tribe was suffering under a Curse inflicted upon them by the Daedric Lord Malacath. She wanted my Aid, not to break the Curse, but to appease the Demon. She and all her Tribe worship the Fiend. I had hoped that such Tales were just malicious Rumors spread to stir up Hatred against the Orcs, but it is true: they revere Malacath as their God.

     This Evil must be destroyed. There were too many of them for Serana and I to take on alone, however. For now, I am forced to play along, accompanying their Chieftain Yamarz to a Shrine where he is to slay a Giant in the Daedric Prince’s Honor. We have stopped in Riften for the Night, and I have managed to send a Runner to Torhald without being detected. Tomorrow, I will slay Yamarz upon Malacath’s shrine, and when Serana and I return to the Stronghold the Vigil of the South will be there to help us shine the Light of Stendarr into the Orcs’ festering Shadows.

     *

     Yamarz lies dead, slewn by the Giant that his “God” sent him to destroy. I begin my Journey back to his Home, to deal with his wretched Brethren.

     *

     Met Itharel, the lone Vigilant Vampire Hunter, again. This Time she was tracking a Mistwalker, and I gladly offered my Assistance. I was saddened to see that she has not taken another Partner since the Death of Vitta. I understand her Pain. I miss having Erandur by my Side. I cannot imagine what it would have been like had he died following my Command. I told Itharel not to blame herself, but I doubt that she took it to Heart.

     *

     Witnessed a Vampire Attack in the Middle of Riften’s Market as Serana and I were heading to the Inn to find a Bed for the Night. We helped to destroy the Fiends, but we came late and there were several Casualties – including a Wood Elf named Ungrien, who I believe was employed at the local Black-Briar Meadery.

     These Vampires must be stopped. After the Raid on the Orc Stronghold tomorrow, there can be no more Distractions. I must reach the Ancestor Glade as soon as possible.

     *

     I met Marcurio at the Inn and instructed him to coordinate with Erandur’s People as well as the Priest Maramal in the Temple to make sure that the Families of Ungrien and the fallen Guardsmen are cared for. 

     He told me that he has had discreet Dealings with the Thieves Guild, and that they seem willing to share any useful Information relating to Vampires or Daedra Worshipers that they might come across during their clandestine Activities. I am reluctant to see the Vigil associated with such People, but I have to agree that they could prove a valuable Source of Information. I told Marcurio to go ahead, but to not let himself become too deeply involved.

     *

     It is done. The vile Daedra Worshipers of Largashbur have been slain one and all. Even the Children, some mere Babes in Arms. I was reluctant to punish the little Ones for the Sins of their Fathers, but the Code of the Vigil is clear. The Light of Stendarr swept through that Place like the Dawn chasing away the Night.

     On an Altar in the Courtyard we found Volendrung, the famous Warhammer of Malacath. Torhald has taken it to Stendarr’s Beacon, and I must resume my Journey West.

     *

     I guess that Marcurio’s discreet Arrangement with the Thieves’ Guild does not include sparing the Vigil from the Predations of its Members. Serana and I were waylaid on the Bank of the Treva River and forced to fight the Rogue off. 

     *

     Met two of Torhald’s Vigilants in the Range of Mountains which form the Border between the Rift and Falkreath Hold. The Brothers were investigating a nearby Cave, rumored to house a Sanctum dedicated to some unholy Worship. Were my Errand not so urgent, I would have aided their Quest.

     *

     Every now and then, I am reminded that the Daedra and the Undead are not the only Evils in this World. There are Mortals with Hearts blacker than the Depths of Oblivion. 

     Serana and I came across a small Bandit Encampment today, deep in the Pine Forest. After slaying the Outlaws, we found the Body of a young Dunmer Woman bent backwards over a Log and… displayed. Though she had clearly been dead for quite some Time, Necromantic Rituals seemed to have been performed to keep the Body fresh. Soft… and supple. 

     Stendarr’s Light shine upon me. 

     *

     We have finally reached the Ancestor Glade. It is a beautiful Place, a large, open Cavern filled with wild Flora that has been untouched for Centuries.

     *

     The Moth Ritual did its Job, although being engulfed by a Swarm of Insects is an Experience I could have lived quite happily without. But I was able to read the Elder Scrolls without adverse Effects – and they have showed me the precise Location of Auriel’s Bow. Darkfall Cave, on the Border between Haafingar and the Reach. 

     We draw near the Close. But the Volkihar Demons are not far behind – they found us at the Glade as we were leaving. We must move swiftly.

     *

     Been running since we left Markarth. If it is not the Vampires hounding us, then it is the Forsworn trying to murder us for being in their Country, or the Bandits coming for our scant Possessions. We are almost to Karthwasten, and from there it is only half a Day’s Journey up a small River to Darkfall Cave. Might as well have been the Moons; if this keeps up we will never make it.

     *

     We have made it to Darkfall Cave without falling Victim to either Arrow or Fang. Stendarr be praised. We have no Way of knowing what awaits inside – we know only that we must find Auriel’s Bow at any Cost.

     *

     In the Depths of Darkfall Cave, Serana and I have discovered Something unbelievable. A Snow Elf, not a twisted, feral Falmer, who is still alive and still performing his Duties as Protector of what was once the Center of his Religion. Gelebor has told us many Things, about his lost People and the tragic Falmer that they have become, but most importantly he has explained that we must perform a complicated Ritual to gain Access to Auriel’s Bow – and slay his corrupted Brother who guards it.

     *

     This Forgotten Vale is a strange Place. In many Ways, it reminds me of Blackreach: a foreign Land filled with strange Plants and Creatures, untouched for Centuries. Yet there is a Kind of Peace here, a Serenity only felt in Places touched by the Gods and made holy by Their Blessing. But now, the Falmer – the unpleasant Kind – infests what was once their Ancestors’ most sacred Chantry. They are legion, but they will not bar my Path. For Stendarr’s Light guides me.

     *

     I have learned much Lore concerning the Falmer and their Fate from Gelebor. I have even found several Books in the Vale that I believe are written in the Snow Elf Tongue. The Scholars of the Order should be very interested in studying them.

     I have gathered the Water from the Wayshrines. Serana and I are catching our Breath in the Courtyard of the ancient Temple of Auri-El. Soon, we will complete the Ritual and enter – and the Gods only know what we shall find within.

     *

     It is done. Vyrthur lies slain. We have discovered that the high Priest of the Snow Elves was a Vampire, and that he was the one who created this Prophecy that Harkon now chases. Vyrthur sought to avenge himself upon Auri-El himself, by desecrating the holy Sun.

     With the tainted Priest’s death, the Chantry of Auri-El is cleansed. I am certain that Gelebor will prove a useful Source of Knowledge for our Scholars, and – most importantly – he has granted me the Possession of Auriel’s Bow and the Sunhallowed Arrows that I will need to destroy Harkon. Serana reluctantly agrees – her Father must die, and the Time for his End is now. We head back to Fort Dawnguard in Order to gather our Allies for the final Assault on Castle Volkihar.

     *

     The Carriage Ride from Dragon Bridge back to Riften has been long and uneventful, but it has afforded me with an Opportunity to rest and contemplate. The Vampire Crisis is drawing to a Close. Auriel’s Bow has been found – one Way or another, this Conflict between the Dawnguard and Clan Volkihar will end when we storm the Island.

     I am tired deep in my Bones. It has been more than ten Years since the Hall of the Vigilant was burned down. Ten years of the Order limping along like a wounded Skeever, operating out of temporary Headquarters and under temporary Leadership. It must end. With the Death of Lord Harkon, the Vigil will rise again – greater than before. Stendarr wills it so.

     *

     Attacked by Vampires just East of Riften, and in broad Daylight. The Fiends grow ever bolder. But their Days are numbered. The Light of Stendarr shall burn them from this World.

     *

     The Horn has been blown, and the Brothers and Sistere of the Vigil and the Dawnguard have answered. The Ground shakes beneath our Hooves as we bring the Message across the Land: the Vampires that have poisoned the Night for so long are about to face Judgment. More than five hundred trained holy Warriors and devoted Vanquishers of Evil are about to descend upon the barren Rock of Clan Volkihar.

     *

     It is finally over. Lord Harkon has been destroyed, along with every last Vampire who served him. Many Brothers, Vigil and Dawnguard alike, have fallen wiping the World clean of this Filth. They will be remembered. Isran has declared that the Dawnguard will henceforth be the dedicated Guardians of Auriel’s Bow, and ensure that it is never used for ill Purposes. 

     I will return to Fort Dawnguard for the Celebrations, but afterwards my Duties call me away. I am summoning every Senior Vigilant in Skyrim to Stendarr’s Beacon for a Moot. There, we will choose a new Keeper and decide on the future of the Order. There, we will begin to rebuild.

     *

     Serana has chosen to remain with the Dawnguard, and Isran has chosen to accept her as an Ally. I am sure that the Relationship will prove mutually beneficial – but I cannot be a Part of it. Isran has asked me to join the Dawnguard, but I firmly believe that it is the Vigil that will bring the Light of Stendarr to the dark Corners of the world. I have bequeathed Auriel’s Bow to him and his Dawnguard, however. They will serve the God of Mercy by keeping it safe.

     *

     Ran into two Vampires in the Dayspring Canyon as I left for the Moot. Sorine was right when she said that the Vampires can never truly be eradicated. The Dawnguard will continue to do the necessary Work of seeking them out wherever they fester – as will the Vigil.

     *

     I am overwhelmed. I have been chosen to become the new Keeper of the Vigil of Stendarr here in Skyrim. Erandur, Torhald and the other Senior Vigilants have voted in my Absence and have already been in Contact with the Grand Keeper to have me ordained. I do not believe that I am worthy of such an Honor, but I would be an ungrateful Wretch not to accept it. Mine will be the Responsibility of restoring the Order to its former Glory, and I shall carry it out unwaveringly.

     My first Order of Business shall be to travel to Dawnstar, where Erandur awaits to aid me in the Effort to gain Permission from the Jarl to rebuild the Hall of the Vigilant. It is Time that the Keeper of the Vigil proves to Skald that the Order is not an Enemy to be feared, but a Shield for all of Skyrim’s People.

     *

     I met a Missionary on the Road who handed me a thin Volume containing M’aiq’s Sermons, written down by Talsgar the Wanderer. I am glad. M’aiq’s Views on every Person’s equal Value is especially deserving of Espousal in this Age of Strife: the Thalmor and the Stormcloaks both have plenty to learn from the old Cat.

     *

     Erandur greeted me warmly at Nightcaller Temple. It has been far too long since I have seen him. He has surprised me by announcing that he will be stepping down as the Warden of the Temple in Order to join me as my Second in overseeing the Order as a whole. Technically, it is a step up in Rank, but I still thought that he would wish to remain in Charge of his own Chapter rather than following me around as he did in the old Days. But I am not complaining. My new Responsibilities seem daunting at Times, and his Support will be invaluable.

     He has appointed a Bosmer girl, Firi, as the new Warden of the Vigil of the North, and I see no Reason to disagree. Like Erandur, she began her Career within the Priesthood of Mara and joined the Vigil early during the Vampire War. She has since proven herself a wise and capable Leader, and Erandur claims to have deferred to her Judgment on several Occasions. So be it. Firi shall oversee the Details of the Order’s Operations in the North, while Erandur and I seek an Audience with the Jarl.

     *

     Skald is a petulant old Man. He still believes that the Vigil are Agents of the Empire, and he has devised a Test for me to prove my Allegiance. By Imperial Decree, Skald has always had to tolerate the Presence of Giants within his Hold, despite his personal Feelings toward them. In the current Climate of Rebellion, however, he feels safe enough to defy the Empire in this Matter – and he wishes for me to prove my Independence from Imperial Doctrine by slaying a Camp of Gargantuans. I have tried to explain that slaying Innocents violates the Doctrine of the Vigil as well as that of the Empire, but he refuses to listen. It is an evil Deed that I go to perform, and I wash my Hands of it.

     Stendarr forgive me.

     *

     An innocent Giant has been slain, for no Crime other than his Existence. Skald had better be pleased.

     *

     A Member of the Dark Brotherhood accosted me as we turned back North. It seems that someone has seen fit to renew the Contract for my Life. Queen Elysana has officially pardoned me, and the Thalmor usually prefer to rely on their own Agents. Who else might wish me dead? Some Deadra Worshiper, doing the Bidding of his dark Lord? The Dark Brotherhood themselves are rumored to worship Sithis, the primordial Deity said to be the Father of all Daedra. Does the Lord of the Void demand my Head?

     *

     The Blood of the Giant has bought the Jarl’s Trust, and I have been allowed to purchase a Bit of Land in the South of the Pale, where a new Hall of the Vigilant shall be built. The old one will remain a Ruin – a Memorial to Carcette and the Brothers and Sisters who died there.

     *

     Found a Cannibal butchering a young Elf in the Forest. A Loner, or Part of some Cult – a Cabal of Namira Devotees? I shall send Word to Firi and have her investigate.

     *

     Erandur and I have reached the Site where our new Hall shall be erected. Heljarchen is a beautiful Spot, high in the Foothills of the Mountains that overlook the Plains of Whiterun to the South. Construction is ready to begin – the Jarl has supplied us with some Materials and a Team of Builders as Token of Goodwill, but we shall have to set up Supply Chains of our own to keep Things running smoothly.

     *

     Visited Anga’s Mill by the River Yorgrim to buy Lumber for the Construction. Aeri, the Owner, didn’t recognize me. I did not expect her to; I was a young Vagrant stopping to do a Day’s Labor when last we met. That was more than twenty Years ago, and I was not wearing the Robes of the Keeper of the Vigil then. But she has given me a fair Deal, and in Exchange I have promised to deliver a Note to Jarl Skald in Dawnstar on her Behalf.

     *

     Work on the Hall progresses steadily, but my Duties as Keeper calls me away. I have received Word from Torhald about a troubling Discovery that his People in the Reach has made. There have been several Sightings of Peryite’s afflicted Followers in the Druadach Mountains. As I feared, the Demon’s Sickness still festers within Bthardamz. 

     Erandur has consulted Dhorion, the Vigil’s Loremaster, at Nightcaller Temple, and he tells me that there is a Ritual that can be performed at Kesh’s old Shrine. This might weaken Peryite’s Influence in the Area enough to allow us to enter the Ruin and cleanse it. Erandur and I shall set out at once.

     *

     Traveling West through the Pale, Erandur and I chanced upon a Pair of Bandits who were ransacking a Cart belonging to two traveling Mages – who lay slain on the Ground. The Mercy of Stendarr does not extend to Murderers.

     *

     Met a Farmer who was herding a Cow along the Road. The Critter was covered with painted Symbols, and its Owner explained to us that it was a Peace Offering for the Giants who live near his Lands. He claims that this works – that the Giants accept his Offering and leave his Livestock alone. If so, they are more intelligent than most believe, and peaceful Coexistence is quite feasible. I shall make sure to inform Jarl Skald of this the next Time we meet.

     *

     Erandur and I have stopped in Morthal to follow up on a Lead in the Mehrunes Dagon-Investigation. Morthal is a quiet little Town, but strange Things are afoot: Worries about a local Wizard performing evil Rites, strange Noises, and Whispers that a recent House Fire may have been Arson. 

     I have spoken to the Mage, Falion, and he is harmless – but something about the Fire rubs me the wrong Way. Apparently, the Owner of the House, one Hroggar, lost his Wife and Child – yet wasted no Time in taking a certain Alva for his Lover the next Day. I met Alva and confronted her about these Rumors, but she did not seem concerned – if anything, she seemed delighted. Suspicious. I have offered Jarl Idgrod to look into the Matter, and I shall begin by searching the Ruin that they say is cursed.

     *

     The Spectre of Hroggar’s young Daughter, Helgi, appeared to Erandur and I as we were searching through the burned House. She would not tell us who set the Fire, but she asked that we should come find her after Dark. Ominous.

     We waited until Nightfall and then went to find the Child’s Grave. We found the Coffin as a Vampire was digging it up. The Fiend turned out to be a local Woman who has been missing for some Time. Once again, the Trail leads back to Alva. Her House will be our next Stop – but we shall wait until Morning.

     *

     Breakfast.

     Erandur and I have slept in Shifts at the Inn, one Pair of Eyes always on the Door. Alva has been sitting in the Tavern – all Night. She has just gotten up and left with Minutes left to spare before Dawn. We shall follow her back to her Lair.

     *

     My Suspicions were correct. We followed Alva to her House, and soon after she had entered, Hroggar emerged with a dazed Look on his pale Face. I questioned him and noted that he seemed quite disinterested in discussing his Family – becoming agitated only when I mentioned Alva. He acted very much the Vampire’s Thrall.

     Erandur and I discreetly broke into the House and found Alva asleep in a Coffin in the Basement. She awoke and attacked us, Fangs bared. We found her Journal, detailing her Hand in recent Events as well as an ambitious Plot to take over the entire Town.

     I have brought the Evidence to Jarl Idgrod, and she has requested that the Vigil step in and destroy the Master Vampire, Movarth Piquine, mentioned in the Journal. His is a famous Name, and he is renowned for being both ancient and powerful. 

     Hardly as old or as powerful as Lord Harkon was, however – and he proved no Match for the God of Mercy.

     *

     A small Posse of Townspeople had gathered outside the Jarl’s Longhouse when we set off, and they refused to be swayed from their Course. At the Sight of the Vampires’ Lair a short Hike outside of Town they lost their Nerve, though. Good. Erandur and I can ill afford to watch over Civilians while battling an ancient Vampire. We will go in alone, and the Light of Stendarr will burn the Filth out of its Hole.

     *

     The Fiend Movarth is destroyed and Helgi’s Spirit has found Peace. Hroggar seems to have been released from Alva’s Control as she died – an he is now torn up over his Family’s Death and his own Part in it. He is not truly to blame, but I know that there is Nothing that I can say to make him believe that. 

     Meanwhile, our original Errand here in Morthal remains – the Piece of Mehrunes’ Razor, said to be in the Possession of one Jorgen.

     *

     Jorgen turned out to be a reasonable Man, and although he is a worthy Descendant of those brave Men and Women who swore to keep the Razor forever sundered, he understood that the Vigil is better suited to safeguard the Artifact than he is. It now rests at the Bottom of my Pack as Erandur and I continue our Journey West.

     *

     Another Warrior sent to kill me. This one found us in the Wilderness West of Morthal. She carried no written Instructions of any Kind. I still do not know who desires my End.

     *

     Erandur and I have sought Refuge for the Night in an old Nordic Ruin. As we settled in to sleep, the Specter of a young Man appeared before us, beckoning us to follow him deeper into the crumbling Tunnels.

     The Crypts were crawling with Draugr. I have heard Rumors that the return of the Dragons have caused the Undead to stir. If that is true I cannot say, but stir they do. As Erandur put it, the Ruins had to be cleansed. Those Draugr were once living Beings who deserve better.

     Something clearly has the Spirit of the young Man resting uneasily. We found his Body; he was a Bard in the faraway Day of King Olaf. He was clutching a Book of Songs that claim that Olaf was not the fabled Dragon-Slayer of Myth, but a Fraud. I shall deliver this Tome to the Scholars at the Hall for further Study; it might give us a greater Understanding of Skyrim’s early History.

     In the Depths of the Crypt we found King Olaf’s final resting Place, but the ancient King’s Body was not at Rest. I cannot say if something sinister had reanimated the King and his Servants, or if he had done so himself – but we gave him Peace, by Stendarr’s Mercy. And doing so seemed to settle the Spirit of the Bard, as well.

     *

     We have reached Kesh’s dilapidated Shrine and performed the cleansing Ritual. I can sense Peryite’s Influence weakening, like fresh Air let into a Room pregnant with Sickness. Now, we shall shine the Light of Stendarr into Bthardamz.

     *

     We have made it into the Dwemer Ruin, and it is as we feared – a Hive of Daedra Worshipers, every one of them bloated with Disease. We must find the Source of the Sickness, the Source of Peryite’s influence, and cleanse it. 

     And destroy everyone within this Ruin.

     *

     The Ruins of Bthardamz have been cleansed. A Priest of Peryite, Orchendor, was feeding the Afflicted some vile, green Phlegm which was oozing off of Peryite’s cursed Shield. He was breeding the Sickness in them so that they may go forth and spread it across the World. Horrible.

     I will order some of Torhald’s People to make sure that every Ounce of the Stuff is utterly destroyed, and the Shield will be purged of Sickness through the Grace of Stendarr and then kept safely in the Vault.

     *

     Erandur and I have reached Dragon Bridge, hoping to take a Carriage back to the growing Hall. But I am afraid that Erandur shall have to make the Trip without me. I must go to Riften. Word has reached me from Torhald that Marcurio has gotten himself into Trouble, and he advises me to once again take the Boy under my Wing for a Time.

     *

     Gambling. The Boy has fallen to Gambling and now owes Money to the wretched Thieves’ Guild. I found him in a Rat Hole of a Tavern called the Ragged Flagon – had to crawl through a Mile of filthy Sewer to get there – and was forced to pay through the Nose before that Scoundrel Mallory would let him leave.

    Stendarr, I feel old – and looking at my Reflection in the filthy Cistern I realize that I am old. I am wrinkled and grey. I cannot even recall the Decision to grow my Beard out, but I have the Appearance of an old Wizard. My Body is strong yet, true – but I can feel a Weariness creeping into my Bones, a Fatigue that never leaves once it has taken Root. It has been nearly twenty-five Years since I escaped the Dragon-Fire at Helgen. And I have been running, chasing after one Quest after another, ever since.

     *

     While in the Rift, I dropped off Peryite’s foul Shield with Torhald at Stendarr’s Beacon. He was glad to see me. Like me, Torhald is getting old. Unlike me, he is also getting fat. I suggested that he go on Patrol every now and then. He suggested that I go suck a Fly Amantia.

     We agreed that I should bring Marcurio with me back to the Hall – away from the Gambling Dens of Riften. Stendarr’s Light guide him through the Temptations of Youth – and by Stendarr’s Light, I mean my Silver Mace.

     *

     Took a Detour past the College of Winterhold. I figured it would do Marcurio good to meet People who value Knowledge and Discipline over base Pleasures – and I also figured I might find someone interested in the ancient Snow Elf Tomes that I found in the Forgotten Vale. We have no Experts on the Falmer among the Vigilants – our Scholars focus on the Study of Daedra and various Beasts.

     The College’s Librarian, Urag, was indeed willing to buy the Books for a hefty Sum – and the Promise to share any useful Knowledge gleaned from them.

     *

     Marcurio and I have returned to Heljarchen Hall, and I am surprised to see that Isran has sent one of his People to serve as Steward of the new Hall of the Vigilant – to avoid a Repetition of what happened to the old one. After all that I have done, Isran still thinks that the Order is too weak to defend itself.

     Still, Ingjard seems as strong and capable a Nord Woman as any I have met. As I recall, she was wounded at Castle Volkihar while helping two Junior Vigilants stave off a Pack of Death Hounds. She claims that, with the Vampire War at an End, she had considered leaving the Dawnguard for a more peaceful Life, and that joining the Vigil as the Steward of the Hall is a fortuitous Compromise.

     She refuses to trade in her old Dawnguard Armor for the Robes of a Vigilant, however – so I suppose that she would not mind a little Excitement should it ever find Heljarchen.

     *

     I have left Marcurio in Ingjard’s Care and set out to join Erandur in Dawnstar, where he has been for the past few Weeks working out an Arrangement with Beitild, the Woman who owns the local Iron Mine. She is interested in having her Mine become the sole Supplier of Iron to the Vigil’s Armorers, an Arrangement that might prove beneficial to both Parties. I will also take the opportunity to speak to the Jarl: there are several Supply Issues that need to be ironed out.

     Stendarr’s Mercy, what have I become?

     *

     Marcurio is gone. Ingjard says that he must have sneaked out as a Thief in the Night. The Lure of the Gambling Dens must have become too strong. He was always the Devil-may-care Type, but I never thought that he would break his Oath to Stendarr. 

     This is a double Betrayal; Marcurio has abandoned not only the Vigil, but the God of Mercy Himself. I will not send Brothers to hunt him down – I cannot – but should he ever be found, he will be severely punished. Stendarr’s Mercy be upon Marcurio, for the Vigil has none to spare.

     *

     At long last, the Hall of the Vigilant has been restored. That is to say, the Space is livable and there is a Shrine to the God of Mercy in the Inner Sanctum. The Rooms are still somewhat austere, but the Hall is ready to resume full Operations. Vigilants have begun pouring in from both the North and the south, and we have performed the Ceremony officially ordaining me as the Keeper of the Vigil. To me falls the Task of restoring the Order to its former Glory – and so I shall. Nay, beyond! With our Dawnguard Allies at our Back we shall rise stronger than ever!

     *

     The Road calls to Erandur and I. Word has come from Firi and the Loremaster at Nightcaller Temple – they have found Leads on the two remaining Pieces of Mehrunes’ Razor. To Falkreath, first, and then once more unto the Reach. 

     *

     Passed through Riverwood today. The Town has changed little in twenty-five Years. I am glad. I have always regretted not bringing Word of the Dragons to Jarl Balgruuf as I promised Gerdur. It was cowardly and self-serving, and I put innocent Lives at Risk. I am glad that the Boy who left Riverwood that Day has grown into a better Man through the Mercy of Stendarr.

     *

     Ran into Talsgar the Wanderer on the Road along Lake Ilinalta’s Shore. The old Bard still travels the Land despite his Age – but these Days, he does it for a higher Purpose than when I first met him. Now, he spreads M’aiq’s Philosophy through the Songs he sing. Good. Every Man should find some Way to make sure that he leaves the World a better Place than it was when he entered it.

     *

     Stopping for a Mead at the Inn in Falkreath, Erandur and I were approached by a grizzled old Warrior named Thadgeir, who asked that we help deliver his fallen Comrade’s Ashes to the Priest of Arkay at the City’s fabled Cemetery. Erandur was delighted at the Opportunity to pay his Respects to the God of the Dead, and I agreed – it would do him more good than the Mead at the Inn.

     *

     Our innocent Errand to the Graveyard has yielded sinister Fruit. We found the Priest, Runil, as he was performing the Burial Ceremony for a young Girl. I questioned the grieving Father, and he revealed that his Daughter had been brutally murdered by a Man named Sinding, who had come to Town as a Laborer. The Way he described the Deed – like the frenzied Tearing of a Beast, rather than a Man – set my Hairs on End. I suspect that something fouler is at Play than simple Murder.

     I shall go see this Sinding and find out.

     *

     It is worse than I feared. Not only is Sinding a Werewolf – and abominable Plague that must be burned from the World – but he is also in Possession of a Ring given to him by the Daedric Lord Hircine. This Artifact makes the Beast’s Transformations violent and unpredictable – even more so than they would ordinarily have been. 

     What is worse, as I was questioning Sinding, he transformed – and managed to break through the Window of his Cell. Erandur and I were unable to stop him, and now the Monster is at large. We must find him. We must hunt him down like the Animal that he is, and wrest the Ring of Hircine from his cold, dead Fingers.

     *

     We have tracked the Beast North through deep forests and across swift Rivers, and we have reached the narrow Canyon where he cowers. But there are many who have done the same – Hunters from near and far, come to slay Sinding in Hircine’s name and so gain the Demon’s Favor. Detestable. 

     Let them throw themselves at the Monster and tire him – but when he has fallen, not one of them shall escape the Vigil.

*

     Sinding is dead, as is every Daedra-worshipping Scum that came to kill him. As I pried the cursed ring from the Beast’s Finger, Hircine, the foul Lord of the Hunt, spoke to me – congratulating me on my Trophy. I told him that this was an Act of Mercy – ending Sinding’s Misery. The Demon did not understand, as expected. He replaced the Ring with a Breastplate wrought from Sinding’s wretched Pelt and called it a Prize.

     The Demon fools himself if he thinks that I am his, just like all his Brethren. The stinking Skin of the Werewolf will be kept in the Vault, and my Soul will be kept in Stendarr’s loving Embrace.

     *

     Turning South again, Erandur and I have been invited to stay the Night with a Pair of Hunters at their Shack. The Sky is alive tonight, a dazzling spectacle of dancing Light, and it is clearer to me than ever that the World is a Place of Beauty and Wonder. A Gift from the Divines. We live in a Masterpiece by great Artists, but one that is marred by the Daedra and their evil Ways.

     I see now, towards its End, that most of my Life has been spent safeguarding the Beauty if the Divines’ Creation. It has not been a Life wasted.

     *

     Came across a Carriage set ablaze in a glade with several burned Bodies strewn about. The Earth had been gouged by enormous Talons – this was a Dragon Attack. I have had Dhorion and his Scholars look for a Way to combat the Threat, but so far they have found Nothing viable.

     There are Rumors going around that Salvation is at Hand, though – that there is one these Dragons fear. An Adventurer in the Service of Jarl Balgruuf has slain one of the Beasts. Whispers are starting to spread of the “Dragonborn”. It is an old Nord Legend, such as is bound to blossom in trying Times. But if they can be killed, then they can be eradicated. Perhaps one Day the People of Skyrim can look up at the Sky without Fear once more.

     *

     We have reached Cracked Tusk Keep, an old Fort that is now Home to a marauding Clan of Orcs. They are lead by Ghunzul, who is said to hold the Shards of Mehrunes’ Razor.

     I do not expect a warm Welcome.

     *

     Ghunzul had fallen far from his noble Ancestors. We found Evidence that he and his Clan had begun to worship the Shards of the Artifact, displaying it on an Altar surrounded by sacrificial Offerings. The Heretics have been destroyed one and all – and Erandur and I are headed West to seek out this Drascua who holds the final Piece of the Razor. Firi’s People tell me that she is one of the Forsworn – which gives me little Hope of recovering the Pommel peacefully.

     *

     Struck down a young Death Mage who was performing a Ritual in a Glade. Stendarr, why can they not be satisfied with throwing Fireballs? Must they desecrate the Bones of the Dead?

     *

     Stopped for a Rest at a Hunter’s Camp. She turned out to be a devout Worshiper of Stendarr and gladly shared her Meal with us. I offered to repay the Hospitality should she ever find herself near the Hall. Not everyone feels the Calling to join the Order, but we welcome any and all who wish to deepen their Bond to the God of Mercy.

     *

     I might have known. Erandur and I were captured by Forsworn in the Night and brought to their Camp, grown like Mold on the old Bones of a Nordic Ruin. We were dragged to a Terrace high on the Mountainside and brought before their “Gods”. 

     Hagravens. Two of them, performing a Ritual on the Corpse of a young Brave, raising him anew as one of the Briarhearts that have had our Scholars scratching their Heads. Vile Magicks. Vile Creatures. While I symatize with the Plight of the Bretons of the Reach, the Forsworn are in the Clutches of atrocious Forces. They must be stopped.

     We escaped – Erandur performed some clever Trick with his Fire-Magic – and I will let it be known that the Forsworn are Enemies to all the righteous Folk of Skyrim. The Vigil will endeavor to root them out and shine Stendarr’s Light into their black Hearts.

     *

     Met two of Torhald’s People on the Road. They tell me that Drascua, the Woman we seek, commands a Tribe of Forsworn at Dead Crone Rock. Lilja and Mejram have offered to aid us, and I am grateful to have them. We shall need all the Help we can get.

     *

     Came across an Orc Stronghold full of vile Worshipers of Malacath. The Women proved themselves capable Warriors. 

     Lilja seemed disturbed by the carnage – until we found an Altar with a Human Heart as an Offering. I understand. There are Times when Stendarr’s Light flickers in my Heart like a Candle in a Draft. I spoke to Lilja of Dawnbreaker in the Light of the Campfire that Night – of the black Voice of a Demon ringing with Truth in my Heart.

     *

     We have reached Hag Rock Redoubt – and, towering above it, Dead Crone Rock. It is an impressive Ruin – and swarming with Forsworn. We have cleared the Exterior and are preparing to enter the Structure. Mejram is seeking Strength in Stendarr’s Prayer. It shall be hers – in this Life or the next.

     *

     We tore through that Place like a Wildfire. In the End, Drascua and I stood atop the Tower of Dead Crone Rock. She had allowed herself to be turned into a Hagraven – a vile Fusion of Woman and Bird. An Abomination in the Eyes of Stendarr. She clutched Mehrunes’ Pommel to the last, but now it is safe in the Hands of the Vigil.

     Lilja and Mejram – both unhurt aside from the odd Scratch – will stay at Hag Rock to cleanse the Place of foul Magicks, while Erandur and I return to the Hall to ponder what to do about the Heretic Vesuius.

     *

     Arrived at the Hall only Hours before Torhald and his Escort. They came in an armored Convoy surrounding the Cart carrying the Daedric Artifacts from Stendarr’s Beacon to their new Home in the Vault here at the Hall. Here, we will keep them safe, far away from any Innocents that they might otherwise ensnare.

     *

     We will go to Dawnstar. Torhald agreed before he returned South: Silus Vesuius must be dealt with. I will continue my Charade – play the obedient Lackey returning with the Pieces of the Razor – and we shall see what Truths come to Light.

     *

     It is as we all feared. Silus intends to reforge the Razor by summoning the Daedric Lord himself. He has requested that Erandur and I accompany him, not suspecting our true Allegiance. He must be stopped.

     This Shrine of Dagon’s that he is taking us to… This is the first I have heard of it. Vesuius refuses to disclose its true Location, likely fearing – and rightly so – that we would slay him and proceed there ourselves. As it is, we must suffer the Daedra Worshiper to live until he has led us to the foul Place, that we may cleanse it.

     *

     Our Path has led us up the Mountain near the old Hall and past the Lord’s Stone where I took my Initiate’s Wake. The Shrine to Dagon sits but a short Hike further up the Mountainside.

     That such an abominable Edifice stands so close to Stendarr’s holy Stone offends me. That the old Hall sat in its Shadow appalls me. How could Keeper Carcette not have discovered this?

     This Place must burn in Stendarr’s sacred Light.

     *

     Silus Vesuius lies dead and the Light of Stendarr has cleansed Dagon’s shrine. The Demon did not stand idly by, however. He granted his Servant his Razor to use against me, and several Dremora besides. It mattered not. All shall come into the Light.

     *

     The Hall is becoming a pleasant Place, full of Light and Laughter. And Music: Oriella, one of our newer Recruits, trained at the Bard’s College in Solitude before joining us in our Vigil. She has taken to playing and singing in the Hall during the Evenings, often Songs that she has written herself about my Adventures. They tend to be rousing and well-composed – and wildly inaccurate.

     Jarve, the Armorer, has set up a Forge and Armory in the Cellar, at Times filling the Hall with Smoke and the Ringing of Hammer upon Anvil. Ingjard leads the Combat Training in the Yard, incorporating many of the Techniques she learned from the Dawnguard.

     It is a fine Place to be.

     *

     A Group of Mercenaries attacked the Hall today. They proved little Challenge for Ingjard and the Acolytes in her Care. One of the Rogues carried a Missive identifying their Employer as “Ghak”, whoever that might be.

     I fear I shall never learn who is behind these continuing Attempts on my Life.

     *

     A Letter has reached me from Septimus Signus, requesting my Aid in his confused, cryptic Way. The Man is still a complete Lunatic, but he did do a Service to the Vigil and to Skyrim when he aided me in acquiring the Elder Scroll. I suppose that I owe him a Favor.

     Erandur and I will begin the Journey North at once, while the fleeting Summer still allows it. Stendarr preserve me – these old Bones do not look forward to crossing the Ice Fields.

     *

     In the Interest of combating Necromancy and cleansing the Land of Undead I have ordered the Vigil to investigate any Nordic Barrows that they come across. Therefore, Erandur and I have sought out an old Ruin that we spotted just North of the Nightgate Inn.

     We have joined forces with a young Redguard Adventurer and her Argonian Retainer. The old Lizard seems nervous, but I have assured him that Draugr will be no Problem for the Light of Stendarr.

     *

     The Reptile proved false. This Barrow was the Tomb of some ancient Warlord, and the scaly Mage wanted our Help to defeat him. Once the Deed was done, that slimy Argonian tried to take my Blood for Use in some necromantic Rite to absorb the Draugr’s Power. I made him pay dearly for it, and the Price proved to much for him to suffer.

     The Girl is distraught – she trusted the Lizard, until he tried to suck the Life out of her. She will stay behind as Erandur and I push on.

     *

     My oldest Companion and I have emerged on the Top of a Mountain – the same Mountain that tried to claim our Lives so many Years ago. Today, the Weather is cold but fair as we make our Way down the snowy Slopes. We shall see how long our Luck holds.

     *

     Stopped by the College of Winterhold to talk to Collette Marence, the Senior Wizard of the School of Restoration. Healing Spells are a Staple of the Vigil’s Operation, and we give every Acolyte a basic Training in their Use. Even so, we do not delve into the Art the Way that Collette has.

     I am by no means a Master, but we were both surprised to find that some of the Dawnguard’s offensive Spells – the ones which harness Sunlight against the Undead and which I have included as a Part of the Vigilants’ Training – were completely unknown to her. She did not enjoy the Revelation as much as I did. I must remember to ask Isran where these Magicks come from.

     *

     A Shopkeep in Winterhold told me about a Ruin East of Windhelm that is called Yngol Barrow. She has been brought a Claw Ornament said to belong to the Ruin by a traveling Merchant, but was also warned against looking into the Place. I bought the Claw off her. Perhaps I will look into it heading back South.

     To be honest, I would prefer to set out to investigate the Barrow right now – I do not relish the Trip across the Sea of Ghosts.

     *

     Septimus was insane. I always knew this, but I never guessed the Depths of his Madness. He was obsessed with opening this Dwemer Box that he had found. When I asked him why it was so important, he confessed that it had been ordered by his Lord – the Daedric Prince of Secrets, Hermaeus Mora.

     Whatever is in this Box, it must never fall into the Hands of the Demon – and it never will. I have buried it, and Septimus with it. Stendarr guide his Soul.

     *

     Traveling South from Winterhold, we witnessed a Clash between some Hold guards, loyal to Ulfric and his Stormcloaks, and an Imperial Courier. The Runner refused to be taken alive. I would have helped him, had I had the Opportunity. This Conflict never seems to end. Too many young Men have died because of it.

     *

     Attacked by an Altmer Mage West of Windhelm. He was curiously decked out. Orcish Armor. Though he carried no Orders, I suspect that he was acting on Behalf of the Dominion. Do they still seek Retribution for my youthful Rebellion? Or was this an Act against Stendarr, who they scorn as an “Apologist of Men”? 

     *

     We met M’aiq East of Anga’s Mill. He was traveling alone, without his Disciples. He claims that he prefers it that Way, that it means “less arguing about splitting Treasure”.

     I doubt that the great Prophet was talking about Gold or Silver.

     *

     Erandur and I have reached Yngol Barrow, and we have found a dead Scholar and his Notes inside. There is no Sign of what killed him.

     We have attracted a strange Following: small glowing Orbs, Spirits of a Kind that neither of us have encountered before. They seem harmless, chiming and singing as they follow us about. I wonder what they are. And what they mean.

     *

     The Claw that I bought in Winterhold was a Key that opened the Door of the Tomb of Yngol, the eldest Son of the great Ysgramor. The ancient Hero’s Soul was unquiet, disturbed by some dark Force. The Mercy of Stendarr has granted him Peace.

     *

     Spotted a wrecked Ship as we turned back towards Windhelm, and we decided to lend our Aid to any Survivors. There were none, however – instead we were greeted by a Band of Looters who attacked us. It looks as though they did not stop at Thievery, either – some of the dead Crewmen had sliced Throats.

     Disgusting.

     *

     Came across a Group of Brigands defending their Hideout from a Band of Peryite’s Afflicted. Worrying. Was this a Group that escaped our Purge of Bthardamz, or has Peryite’s Plague taken Hold in a new Location? Will instruct Firi to investigate. 

     When the Daedra Worshipers had been destroyed, the Bandits turned on us. Stendarr’s Mercy and Charity are in short Supply among the People of Skyrim, it seems.

     *

     A Courier approached me in Windhelm with a Letter from Isran. It seems that the dread Vampire Hunter has urgent Matters to discuss with me. I had hoped to return to the Hall and rest my old Bones, but instead I shall travel South to Riften. 

     Stendarr’s work never ends.

     *

     Isran tells me that he has learned of the Existence of a Shrine dedicated to the Daedric Prince Clavicus Vile somewhere in the South of Skyrim. He has offered to investigate these Leads and share the exact Location with me when he finds it – in Exchange for my Assistance in a few Matters for the Dawnguard. I would gladly delegate these petty Tasks to my Junior Vigilants – Stendarr knows that I could use a Rest – but I believe that it is important that I do them myself as a Show of Goodwill. We need to maintain a good Relationship with the Dawnguard lest they slip out of Stendarr’s Light and regress to the Rogue Faction they started out as.

     So now, Erandur and I set out to track down a Vampire last seen in Riften, as well as some dwarven Design for Sorine’s Tinkering. 

     Keeper of the Vigil, and still running Errands. Stendarr, have Mercy.

     *

     Isran’s Lead on the Vampire took us to Riften’s Temple of Mara, and to Erandur’s old Friend Maramal. As it turns out, the Fiend used to be a regular Worshiper at the Temple, but was infected during the Vampire War. He has attempted to stay in Touch with Maramal, despite being unrepentant and resisting the Priest’s Pleas for him to seek a Cure for his Sickness. 

     Maramal is a compassionate Man, like any Servant of the Lady Mara, and it took much Coaxing to convince him to betray the Trust even of such a Demon as this – but Erandur made him see that this Case requires a sterner Approach than Her Benevolence’s gentle Ways allow. It is with Sadness in our Hearts that we go to destroy what was once a good Man.

     *

     We have reached Riverwood after a long Carriage Ride, and have let a Room at the Sleeping Giant Inn. My old Back will no longer let me sleep on the Ground the Way it used to. Tomorrow, we set out West towards Sunderstone Gorge. Along the Way, we hope to find Sorine’s Design in an old Mine not far from here.

     *

     Sorine failed to mention that the Schematic she was after was in the Hands of a Group of Bandits. I offered to buy it off them, but like most such Rogues, they disagreed with the Idea of any Gold at all staying in my Pockets. Do we look so easy Targets, Erandur and I, that any Brawler with a Table-Knife thinks he can defeat us?

     *

     Stopped at a Sawmill on the Shore of Lake Ilinalta, to ask for a Swig of Water. The Lumberjack, Hert, may have fooled her Neighbors – but to anyone with the least Bit of Knowledge on the Subject, it was obvious that she was a Vampire. I have ample Knowledge, and I had her figured out before she even tried to lure us into her Lair.

    Her Evil has been purged, and the Roads North of Falkreath are now safe. Or safer, Stendarr have Mercy.

     *

     Found the Cart of a Khajiit Trader upturned in the Road, both Owner and Horse slain. We are right on the Border of the Reach, and there are Forsworn Arrows scattered about. Are foreign Merchants Part of the Nord Oppression, now? How can any native Breton believe that this is “for the Cause” rather than just a malicious Whim born in the black Hearts of their Hagraven Idols?

     *

     Sunderstone Gorge has been cleansed. It was a reeking Warren of Death Mages and shuffling Corpses, and a it’s Heart sat the Master Vampire we had come to slay. I saw in the snarling Monster no Trace of the gentle, caring Father that Maramal had described. I can think of no Disease more tragic than this, which leaves Friends and Family with not a loved one lost, but a sinister Enemy gained.

     Now, we turn South to Falkreath to rest up before our Journey back to Isran.

     *

     A Fellow Traveler has told us of a Shortcut South through the towering Mountains which separate us from Falkreath. It is a Ruin that he calls Shriekwind Bastion, but he warns us not to use it – it has become infested with Draugr. I assured the Man that Stendarr’s Light will guide His Servants safely through.

     *

     The Man on the Road was mistaken. The Fiends inhabiting this Ruin are vampires – and I fear that he might have known as much. I believe that he was in fact an Agent of the Demons, luring unsuspecting Victims into their Clutches. This Place will be purged and he will be found – on Stendarr’s silver Chalice, I swear it.

     *

     The Fiends have been slewn to a Man, and Erandur and I have emerged from the Darkness onto a bright Terrace overlooking the Mists of Falkreath. Who knows how long the Monsters had been preying in the Town.

     We have let a Room at Dead Man’s Drink, and I have sent a Courier to Torhald, instructing him to begin a Search for the Vampires’ Accomplice. Tomorrow, Erandur and I turn East again, towards Riften and Isran.

     *

     Met two of Torhald’s People who were searching for a Vampire East of Riften. They tell me that there has been no Word of the Vampire-Servant from Falkreath as of yet, though we have spent three whole Weeks traveling since we met him. Nor has there been any Sign of Marcurio since his Disappearance – here in Riften or elsewhere. I fear what we might find should we search Riften’s Underground Ratway – but I keep such Fears to myself.

     *

     The Vampire of Sunderstone Gorge is destroyed and Sorine has her Sketches, but Isran is not ready to uphold his End of our Bargain just yet. Instead he wants me to use my Influence as Keeper to infiltrate the Court of Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun. Isran’s Spies tell us that a Bloodsucker is there, posing as a visiting Advisor. 

     I must slay him discretely so as to not arouse Mistrust against the Order in the Jarl and his People. I can see why Isran wants this done by a Member of the Vigil rather than by the Dawnguard. I do not appreciate being used in such a Manner, but I can see the Necessity.

     *

     I weary of Traveling. I have been traveling for nearly thirty Years – most of it on Foot. My old Bones do not have much Walking left in them.

     *

     A strangely fortuitous Turn of Events. Erandur and I arrived in Whiterun at Nightfall, and sought out the Bannered Mare for warm Beds and a Place to plan our Strategy for the Morrow. Killing a Vampire unnoticed in the Middle of of Balgruuf’s Meadhall seemed a daunting Task.

     But what do we find, if not this “visiting Advisor” himself, right here in the Tavern, pretending to drink Mead while eying his Prey? I am watching him as I write this. The Second he leaves to take a Piss, he is mine.

     *

     The Vampire lies dead in the Latrine, Offal that he is. Hopefully, it will be Days before he is found. I shall get a good Night’s Sleep. Tomorrow, we return to the Hall. Isran can wait for his Report. 

     I deserve a Rest. 

     *

    Erandur insisted that we take the scenic Route back to the Hall. That is to say, the Route that cuts across the Plains and through the Forest instead of along the nice, even Road. My Legs ache just thinking of it. Stupid old Elf – his Eyes are getting so dim that he can scarcely see the Sights, anymore.  

     He will be the Death of me, Stendarr preserve me.

     *

     Blind old Fool! He only went and and fell into a Sinkhole. I had no Choice but to climb in after him. Not any old Hole it was, either: it was a Pit Trap set by Bandits. Led into an Iron Mine full of them, surrounded by a Camp crawling of even more.

     Stendarr curse that old Elf and his “scenic Route”!

     *

     Well. The scenic Route was not a complete Waste, after all. We have stumbled on an old Barrow with plenty of Draugr that need to be shown Mercy. That always cheers me up.

     *

     Found the Body of an Explorer just inside the Door. Had a Journal with Notes on this Place. It is the Tomb of one Kvenel, apparently. A Tongue Chieftain, whatever that means. Seems we need to find a Pair of ceremonial Weapons to open the Door to the Tomb proper. 

     We will. The Light of Stendarr will fill these Halls once more.

     *

     Tongue Chieftain. This Kvenel turned out to be a powerful old Warlord. But he has been laid to Rest, and he has found the Peace, now, that all Dead should know in Aetherius.

     *

     Erandur and I have returned to the Hall for a well-earned Rest. The Place is loud enough, though, especially with Jarve hammering away downstairs. And the Acolytes are always rowdy – but that is as it should be. They always keep their Voices down around Erandur and me, however. Out of Respect for our Rank and Accomplishments, I should hope – though I suspect it is also because of our Age. 

     To those young Bucks, we must look ancient. But we are not frail – we are grizzled. That is what Erandur keeps telling me. How would he know, I ask him then. Old Elf is almost blind. 

     *

     We can dally no longer. Isran awaits to the South, and Stendarr bids me to go to him. There is still much to be done. There always is.

     *

     At Torhald’s Behest, Erandur and I have made a Stop on our Way to Fort Dawnguard. A Barrow has been discovered not far from Stendarr’s Beacon, but none of the Vigilants sent to investigate have returned. This is grave indeed, and worthy of my Time.

     *

     At Forelhost, as it is called, Erandur and I were approached by an Officer of the Stormcloak Militia. He has requested our Aid in recovering an Artifact said to be held within the Ruins. He claims to know nothing of our lost Acolytes, but he says the Barrow is “quite haunted” due to it once being the last Stronghold of an ancient “Dragon Cult”. 

     This Cult seems intriguing: apparently, they worshiped the Creatures as Gods. Might there be a Connection between this dead Religion and the Resurgence of Draugr coinciding with that of the Dragons? I shall seek this Pagan Priest’s Mask, and learn all I can.

     *

    “Quite haunted” turned out to be quite the Understatement. The Ruin was crawling with both Draugr and the restless Spirits of the Cultists. They had died an ugly Death: the Evidence we found suggests that the Cult committed Mass Suicide by Poison to escape a Siege laid by an Army come to destroy the Heretics. Every one of them perished, including the Children.

     We found little to support my Theory that the Draugr should be connected to the Dragons – apart from the Dragon Priest himself being a Draugr of immense magical Power. Someone seems to believe that the Priest’s Mask is somehow connected to the Ruins of Labyrinthian, though. I found Valmir impersonating an Imperial Officer in Order to convince a Legionnaire to enter the Ruin as we returned, likely supposing that we had perished. The Impostor carried Orders from some third Party instructing him to bring the Mask there. I will instruct Firi to investigate.

     *

     Visited the Beacon to tell Torhald that I found no Sign of his Apprentices, and that they are likely dead. There were Tears in the rough old Man’s Eyes as we said Stendarr’s Prayer atop the Tower.

     *

     Isran still has not been able to find the Location of this Shrine to Clavicus Vile, but he is getting closer. He had captured a Vampire who has been there and was putting the Screws to him while I was at the Fort. Vile practice. Torture is not Merciful.

     Florentius, the crazy old Bastard, has asked me to find an Artifact of the old Dawnguard for him – an enchanted Hammer somewhere near Helgen. Might be interesting.

     *

     I did not think that there was any more Skyrim to be found South of Helgen – I thought that the Town was right on the Border of Cyrodiil. Turns out, there is plenty of Mountain between Helgen and the Imperial Territory, and Erandur and I have to search through it all looking for a Hammer.

     As usual, the first Thing we have found is a Fort lousy with Bandits. Stendarr preserve me.

     *

     We did find one interesting Thing in that Fort – a Treasure Map leading to a nearby Location. Reminds me of the Pirate Tales that Sibastion used to read to me when we were both still Children. Before he went off to the War.

     *

     The Treasure was not particularly exciting – just a few Gems – but it will help keep the Vigil’s Coffers from running dry. And an old Man got to live out a Boyhood Fantasy – though on second Thought, most of my Life has been spent hunting Treasure of one Kind or another. 

     Perhaps that is all we ever do – chase after the next Thing, the next Cause? Perhaps true Wisdom is understanding when to quit chasing and start living one’s Life where one is?

     *

     Endless Trails through the Mountains – but we have finally found Southfringe Sanctum. Florentius has told us that we shall face Warlocks within – but he also claimed that Arkay himself had told him so. We shall see.

     *

     We found a Woman, wounded and left for dead in the Spider-infested Depths of the Cave System. She explained what this Place is: a Coven, led by one Bashnag, where Sorcerers gather to study Necromancy. She used to be one of them, until she was expelled.

     I should have killed her, but she spoke of a young Daughter. I left her Fate in Stendarr’s Hands. The Rest of this “Coven” shall receive no such Mercy.

     *

     Bashnag and his Coven of Death Mages are slain, and Florentius’ Hammer has been recovered. Now to climb down this Mountain and return East.

     *

     A Courier bearing terrible News has found me in Riverwood. M’aiq, my dear old Friend, has been arrested by the Imperial Legion on Heresy Charges. I must rush to Solitude at once – I will not allow them condemn him for something so ridiculous. M’aiq’s Teachings are not blasphemous. As far as I know, he has never even mentioned the Gods in his Sermons. All he ever did was spread that deep, profound Wisdom which seemed to him as simple as common Sense.

     The Vigil will not stand for this.

     *

     We were to late. As Erandur and I arrived, the Execution was already under Way. General Tullius himself pronounced the Sentence – but there was a Contingent of Thalmor overseeing the Proceedings. The General seemed reluctant, but clearly the Elves gave him no Choice. My own Objections, even as the Leader of an influential religious Organization, were similarly disregarded. I was helpless to stop the Evil that followed.

     M’aiq, met his End stoically, declaring that all he was guilty of was loving the People of Skyrim and the World. I found Talsgar in the Crowd. The Bard had Tears in his Eyes, but also that intent Look of a Minstrel committing every Detail of an Event to Memory. There will be Songs written about this Day, of that I am certain.

     Later, as we were sharing a Drink at the Tavern with Talsgar and M’aiq’s other Disciples, they all vowed to keep spreading the Prophet’s Word beyond his Grave. I wish them Luck. M’aiq the Liar was a Vessel of divine Truth, and a better Cat than this World deserved. May his Eyes ever shine in the Darkness.

     *

     M’aiq’s Execution has left me unsettled and full of Questions. How could the God of Mercy have let this happen? Or was I meant to have been His Hand in this, as I ever have been before? Did I fail merciful Stendarr by failing to save M’aiq?

     Erandur and I agree that we must take Time to think before returning to Isran and his Tasks. A Guard in Town have told us about a Cave said to be infested with Vampires not far from here. We will go there and bring Stendarr’s cleansing Light. Then we will take a slow Road back to the Hall of the Vigilant. 

     Stendarr’s Light guide me through these dark Days.

     *

     The Work of Stendarr’s Vigilant never ends. Erandur and I were traveling West alongside a small Squad of Legionnaires when a lone Lunatic attacked us. He raved about finding a worthy Opponent as he slew two of the Imperials. I found a Book on his Body describing a dark Ritual in Service to the Daedric Prince Boethiah, along with a Note summoning her Followers to “the Mount which overlooks Windhelm”. An evil Darkness gathers there, it seems – one that the Light of Stendarr must chase away.

     *

     Erandur and I have reached this Pinemoon Cave that we were told about, though a Clan of Vampires now seem trivial compared to a Cult of Boethiah. Nevertheless, we would be remiss leaving the Fiends be.

     *

     The Monsters have been dealt with, and we have turned South towards Dragon Bridge. We met Talsgar going the same Way, and were surprised to find him in high Spirits. He was ecstatic, in Fact, and spouting Gibberish.

     He claims that he and the Disciples returned to M’aiq’s Tomb in the Hall of the Dead, only to find it empty. He says that the Prophet had risen from his Grave and was waiting for them outside the Hall – that he spoke to them all in Turn before disappearing.

     I fear that Talsgar’s Mind has snapped. I almost hope it is so, for the alternative is Necromancy – a Fate I do not wish upon my old Friend.

     *

     We have arrived in Windhelm after a Week-long Carriage Ride across the Land. If there is a Cult of Boethiah here, we will find it and crush it. 

     I have corresponded with Firi during the Journey, instructing her to investigate Talsgar’s Claims. Her News are not encouraging. She tells me that M’aiq’s Body is indeed gone from his resting Place, but her Vigilants have found no Clues as to what has happened to it. And Talsgar is not the only one telling the Tale – the dozen Disciples who were with him all tell the same Story.

     I pray to Stendarr to let the old Cat rest, but there seem to be Forces in Motion that seek to befoul his eternal Peace.

     *

     My Heart bleeds. Erandur and I found the Sacellum of Boethiah and the vile Cultists who had gathered there to vie for the Demon’s Favor. We struck the Heretics down, a Ray of glorious Light piercing the dark Shadows. Finally, there was only one Daedra Worshiper left – a young Man, broken on the Ground beneath Stendarr’s Might. 

     Then the Cultist removed his Mask – and I saw that it was Marcurio, pleading for his Life. He claimed to be repentant, to have been led astray but now returned to the Light… But his Hands were stained with the Blood of Sacrifices made to a Daedra. 

     I admit: I hesitated. But Erandur is my constant Support, and he shone the Light of the God of Justice into my wounded Heart. The Mercy of Stendarr does not extend to Daedra Worshipers.

     The Spilling of my old Apprentice’s Blood attracted the perverse Attention of the Prince of Betrayal. Boethiah’s sickening Voice rang in my Heart, violating my Soul. She commands me to seek out her Champion, a Worshiper who has fallen from her black Grace, and slay him. Once again, a Daedra bids me do the Vigil’s holy Work. 

     God of Mercy, why do you test me so?

     *

     The Journey to Falkreath has been a somber Business. Recent Events have left me stunned. One of my oldest Friends, executed – and brought back, perhaps, by dark Sorcery, in which Case I might have to put him back to Rest myself. And now, Marcurio, that jolly young Man that I trained to be a Servant of the Light, fallen to Daedra Worship and slain by mine own Hand.

     The Code of the Vigilant tells us that Stendarr pours forth His Mercy unending from His bottomless silver Chalice. But how can that be true, when I see so little Mercy in the World? For three Decades, I have fought and killed in the Name of the God of Mercy and Charity, but all I see around me is Cruelty and Greed. All I hear in the Depths of my Heart are the vile Voices of Daedra, echoing in Stendarr’s utter Silence, commanding me to do their Bidding.

     And now, as so oft before, I find myself with no Choice but to obey. Am I still on the righteous Path? Have I ever walked it? 

     Erandur suggests that we take the Time to visit the Graveyard tomorrow, to pray to Arkay for the Souls of M’aiq and Marcurio. I have agreed hoping that the Touch of the Divine will bring some Peace. But I fear that the Gods will remain as silent as always.

     *

     We have reached Knifepoint Ridge. The Demon has bid me to slay her Worshipers stealthily – but I do not serve Boethiah. The Light of Stendarr will burn these Heretics from the World, and they shall see us break upon them as the great golden Wave of Dawn crashes over the Horizon.

     *

     The Deed is done. Boethiah’s Champion lies dead, and her Ebony Mail will be kept by the Vigil until the Undoing of the World. Now I must return to the Hall of the Vigilant. I feel the Need to purge myself of the Demon’s sickening Influence.

     *

     I have been praying at the Shrine in the Hall and meditating for close to a Month. Marcurio’s Fate weighs heavy on my Mind. Erandur has suggested that we explore the Ruins of Labyrinthian to the West, search for more Clues to the Connection between the Dragons and the Draugr.

     I know that he is just trying to get me out of this Slump. I suppose that I have been sitting idle for too long… If nothing else, Florentius is still waiting for his Hammer.

     *

     We have reached Labyrinthian, but the Areas we have Access to have yielded little in the Way of useful Information. Instead, it has offered only Trolls and Draugr. I will bid Firi to assign Vigilants to exploring these Ruins further, but I shall crawl through them no longer. 

     The Time has come to return to Isran with his Hammer.

     *

     I cannot believe it. I have met M’aiq the Liar, standing by the Roadside just as he used to. I was wary of any Signs of Necromancy, but there were none. It was M’aiq, alive and well, as if nothing had ever happened. I was astonished, but – as was always his Way – he offered no Explanation. Instead, he told me that he had heard that it is dangerous to be my Friend.

     I told him about Marcurio, then, something I have not spoken of to anyone, save my faithful Erandur alone. As I did so, a great Weight was lifted from my Heart, and it was as if the Voice of Stendarr Himself rang in my Ears, issuing from the gentle Lips of the wise old Cat.

     M’aiq smiled upon me and bid me to continue on my Path. I stumbled away, dazed, and when I turned to look he was gone. Had Erandur not been there, I would have thought that I had dreamed it. But If I had, I doubt that it had been any less real.

     My Heart is filled with new Purpose. I will continue on my Path.

     *

     Isran has finally discovered the Location of the Shrine of Clavicus Vile. Haemar’s Shame, a Cave in the Mountains West of Ivarstead and infested with Vampires. I must return to the Vigil with these News. We will gather our Forces, and then Stendarr’s Light will purify that Den of Filth. 

     *

     Erandur and I have returned to the Hall of the Vigilant just in Time for the Night of Cups, the sacred Holiday that we celebrate in Honor of Stendarr and His silver Chalice – that bottomless Vessel from whence pours forth the Great God’s Mercy and Charity uneneding.

    As Keeper, it falls to me to draw the ceremonial First Draught, and Jarve the Armorer presented me with a Gift in Honor of my long Service to the Vigil – a beautiful Mace, masterfully wrought from Silver and blackest Ebony. He calls it Stendarr’s Chalice, as it is shaped in the Form of a heavy Cup. Jarve tells me that Dhorion the Loremaster has worked closely with the Enchanters of Winterhold to bless the Weapon, so that as it strikes the cold Flesh of the Undead it rings like a Bell with the Voice of Stendarr, filling any Monster’s Heart with Fear and Anguish.

     Ingjard filled this deadly Chalice with Wine, and I drew the First Draught from it in front of the cheering Vigilants. Tonight, let the Hall ring with Laughter and Merriment – for tomorrow we march on Haemar’s Shame.

     *

     The Trek up the narrow Paths of the Mountain has been long and slow. There is a bitter Chill here that seeps into my Bones in a Way that it never could in my Youth. But we have reached our Destination at last, and Stendarr’s Light is with us.

     I have brought a Dozen of my Senior Vigilants with me to tear down Clavicus Vile’s Shrine. Torhald the Steadfast himself stands at my Side. As we gather here today, each a Candle against the looming Darkness, it is brought Home to me that we are invincible; for even should we all perish in the coming Storm, there will always be others willing to take our Places standing up against the rising Tide of Shadow. For so long as the Sun rises each Morning to chase the Night away, so shall there always be a Vigil of Stendarr.

     *

     It is done. The Shrine of Clavicus Vile has been torn down and purged by the Light of the God of Mercy. Every one of the Vampire Idolaters who stood in Defense of it has been cut down. They did not go quietly into the Light. Two of Torhald’s People did not make it. I took an Arrow in the Knee, and Erandur has a nasty Gash down his Face.

     But we will live; two tired, crippled old Men. I think that my Days of wandering Skyrim’s Roads and scouring the Land in search of Daedra Worshipers are finally over. There is still Work to be done, still Whispers of Monsters and dark Rites. But such Evils are for younger Men to fight.

     A wise old Man once told me that to cling to something past its Usefulness is unseemly. How much more so when that Thing is you? I shall spend the Rest of my Days in the smoky Warmth of the Hall, guiding the Order and teaching the young ones.

     Erandur tells me that I am being childish and that he will carry on without me. I know that he is jesting. I caught him tripping over a Chair the other day, and I have noticed the satisfied Groans which escape him every Time he gets to take his Weight off his Feet. I have heard them from myself, also.

     I think that these shall be the last Words that I write upon these Pages. I have carried this Journal with me for thirty Years, through some of the most important Events in the Order’s History. Oriella, our young Bard, tells me that she would like to use it as the Basis for a Biography of my Life. I hardly think my Story worth the Effort. There are Thousands like it. I am just an old Man who has had the great Fortune of living a Life of Purpose. A Life in the Service of a God.