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Chapter 1.5 “A map is good. Knowing the way is better”



Date: Morndas, 19th Last Seed, 4E 201

Current active quest: Enslaved Wenches

Current level: 1

Current gold: 0gp


Dear dearest diary,


I write this in The Bannered Mare, Whitrun’s inn. My journey to the city was a miserable one, plagued by wolf attacks and the most horrendous of storms. Desperate to find shelter, I attempted to explore a massive troll-infested complex known locally as Labyrinthian but I ran as soon as I saw the first troll (We have them in Cyrodiil and I know better than to engage one in combat). In the early hours of the morning and on the other side of the mountains, I found a small cottage with eggs outside that I’m ashamed to admit I wasted no time in stealing under the cover of darkness. The owner, a Dunmer called Drelas, became hostile as soon as he saw me without a chance for me to even offer my body for free if it meant a safe place to sleep. I fled back into the storm, my eyes wet from rain and fear.







I did see some wondrous things as I crossed into Whiterun. I saw for the first tiime the mammoths and their giant shepherds but they paid me no attention as long as I kept my distance. I began to respect the Nords for being able to survive in such a harsh and unforgiving landscape.




Before I made it to Whiterun, I encountered some bandits at a fort known as Graymoor. I had approached the fort foolishly thinking it to be a waystation for travellers or even under the control of Imperial soldiers but when I came under a barrage of arrows, I knew the truth. Fuelled by rage or merely desperation, I plunged into the pitch-black courtyard. The battle was nothing like a bard’s song, full of heroism and nobility, but chaos and blood. I ran screaming across the battlements, slashing wildly until my armour was drenched in their blood.





When it was over, I fell to the ground exhausted and waited for dawn. As the sun rose, I moved from body to body, trying to ignore what I’d done. I stripped them of their amour, taking the best pieces for myself and intending to sell the rest. It was here, dear diary, while searching the body of an orc-man that I first my first non-human penis. He was naked under his armour so it wasn’t hidden but it was impressive, thick and long. While I’d never thought of laying with a non-human before, I will admit I was tempted to do so now.





Before resuming my walk to Whiterun, which now I could see just over the horizon, I took the opportunity to tan the wolf pelts I’d collected into leather. In doing so - or perhaps the trials of the previous few days – I felt more confident than ever before.


I was, however, sick. One of the bites I’d received during the numerous wolf attacks overnight had infected me, most likely with rockjoint. It was sapping my strength, rendering the sword in my hands useless. I made haste to Whiterun but was forced to rest in an abandoned house on the outskirts. Whoever had lived here before had left a box of gold and jewels under a loose floorboard. My need for coin great, I took them and slept.




Awakening in the early evening, the rest of the journey to Whiterun was mercifully uneventful. I sold the pilfered armour and gems to a trader called Belethor but felt revulsion at his expression of interest at buying any sister I might have. Do men in Skyrim have any other interest than the use of women? I accepted his offered coin in silence but made sure I bought a potion to cure me.








I entered The Bannered Mare with just shy of 400 septims, which I made sure to spend on more provisions and water. Then I slept, vowing to leave at first least. Embershard mine was only a short distance away in the forest and the fulfilment of my quest was near.







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