---Heartfire,
13th, 4E 201---
Today
I found the tower hideout of the Forsworn who stole Lisbet's Dibella
statue, something that I had offered to recover for her when I first
met her in her shop in Markarth square. I found the statue, and then
I remembered that Lisbet is dead. She was one of the cannibals at
Narmina's shrine. I left the statue, unable to touch it. The more I
think on it, the more I doubt I will ever return to Markarth. The
place can sort out its own problems. The Forsworn, however, have
officially made an enemy of me. They attack travelers on sight, and
are no better than Bandits.
At
the Forsworn camp, in the tallest standing tower where the treasures
were stored, the four of us encountered another of those men with the
briars for hearts. He overpowered me easily with a combination of
brute force and cold magic so strong that it overcame my Nord blood.
It took all four of us to bring him down without serious incident.
The
benefit of an early start, we were able to continue on (after copious
restoration magic, of course) to the nearby Silver Hand camp and slay
them all. I took them in beast form, defeating them with ease. The
others had little to do. This group had no fragment of Wuthraad, but
I think Aela will be just as pleased as I to hear that another band
of the bastards are gone from Nirn.
We
head next to Morthal where we will stay the night and prepare to set
out tomorrow to recover Jurgen Windcaller's horn and Mjoll's lost
sword Grimsever, that is unless something occurs in Morthal which
requires our attention, as has become the pattern of late.
---Heartfire,
15th, 4E 201---
Morthal
quickly became more than a short stop on our journey. While looking
for a shop at which to restock supplies, I took notice of a burned
house between the inn and the Jarl's longhouse. I inquired about the
house, because apparently I cannot help myself. Soon the four of us
were caught up in another murder mystery. A local man lost his wife
and daughter in the fire, and then pledged himself the next day to a
local woman, Alva, and so he was accused of lighting the fire
himself. The Jarl, Idgrod Ravencrone, didn't believe this to be true,
however, and asked us to look into it.
It
turns out that Alva had been recently turned into a vampire by a
Master Vampire, Morvath, living in a nearby cave. As part of a plan
to enthrall the town, Alva caused these events to occur. Guided by
the ghost of the dead little girl, we defeated Alva and Morvath and
avenged the deaths. Morthal should be safe, for now, provided that no
more of those horrible giant spiders are nearby. On our way here we
were set upon by four on the road, and there were two more waiting in
Morvath's lair. Add Hjaalmarch to the list of regions that I will not
be returning to without great reason, I suppose.
Worse,
yet still more welcome than spiders, was the dragon that attacked the
town last night. It was another of those pale and spiny Frost
Dragons, and the fight against it was long and difficult, but we
prevailed. Only one town guard fell in the course of the battle, and
I was rewarded with the title of Thane and a new steel blade for my
heroism. After all that happened, though, we will have to stay here
tonight, putting us three days behind schedule.
I
recovered a strange ring from Morvath. It seems to be vampiric in
nature, so I am hesitant to use it myself or give it to one of the
others, but I have a strange feeling that I should hold on to it for
the time being.
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