Auberman worked his way through the woods. His feet knew the way, but his eyes roved. Town to camp was an easier walk down the rutted path, but no one could know when something new might turn up. The camp was as he'd left it, a darkish shadow at the base of the rock spur. Climbing the hill, he found the others as he'd left them too.

Marjuan lay, looking up at the sky, conducting some unseen orchestra with his bare toes. Draven was leaned back in the shade of the rock and beamed him the wide, cherubic grin that hadn't changed since they'd learned to walk. The remains of their last meal littered the table.

"Gents, I bring you provender!" Auberman thumped the sack off his shoulder onto the table and cleared the leavings.

"Lash all that!." Marjuan said. "I'll just have some food." He easily caught the wedge of cheese Auberman flung at him. "You got the kind with the stinky bits. I LOVE the stinky bits." He chewed slowly and roundly, a blissful smile on his face. Then his brows furrowed. "How much did this set us back?"

"It's a celebration," Draven said, eyes closed, still smiling. "Price is no object."

"And nothing is too good for my mates," Auberman said. With a flourish he revealed the bottle of wine. "NOTHING too good." Draven opened one eye and his smile grew impossibly wider.

"Mary can have my cheese and I'll take his wine."

Marjuan started to fling a chunk of cheese, thought better of it and popped it into his mouth. Around the mouthful he said,"Sod that. I'll have a double now, thank you."

They all laughed as Auberman layed out the cheese and grapes and filled the goblets. He watched his friends, his dearest fellows since childhood, enjoying the first of many rich meals to come. The ore they'd be taking from this vein would make them rich men. Just the bits scattered inside the narrow split in the rock would make their month one of ease and supply them for the real work ahead. He smiled and took in the moment again, wanting to remember his friends just as they were.

"Now, you boys try not to ache your heads on this bottle. I'm going back to settle a price on the mining gear." He started off but paused when he reached the trees. The words formed on his lips, again, as they did every year when he made this climb. The words he should have said. "Keep your eyes open and your wits about you. The locals have word of bandits down below." But that was down below. Miles of trees on all sides. The boys should have known enough to stay aware, but that isn't how a celebration works, is it?

Auberman smudged the tears off his face. "I'll see you soon, boys." His voice only cracked a little as he said it. He made his way down and did not look back.

My beautiful Nara finally returned to me last night. It has been difficult raising our newborn child in her absence and Kyne knows how I have missed her this past year. The expedition was only to last a month. I am just thankful she is back. And I know our boy is too.
***
It turns out that my Nara was not on the adventure that I had expected. She has informed me that for the past half of a year she has been staying with another man. She insists that the man was merely trying to help her overcome an illness she contracted while fighting in the war but she will not tell me what the illness is. It is due to this illness apparently that she is now sensitive to sunlight and must sleep during the day. Garlund doesn’t understand why his mother is acting so strangely. I can’t say that I do either.
***
My Nara is not the same person as the loving woman that left a year ago. She has changed. The illness that afflicts her is something that I thought was only real in books from long ago. Vampirism. She swears to me that the man she stayed with taught her how to tame the urge for flesh and that her love for me was the only thing that kept her from turning the dagger on herself. I want to believe her but what I saw her do to a man tonight made me question if my Nara is even still inside this woman. She dragged him in from the darkness and the man only got one sentence out before she drained him of blood. 'They are coming for you'.
***
My wife informed me that the people that the mysterious man was referring to are a group of men and women who have dedicated their lives to destroying all vampires. The only way to keep our son safe was to leave him with my mother and hope that we can return to him when he is older and no longer in danger. I believe her when she says that she loves me and for that reason I cannot let her run in fear of her life alone. I have decided to run with her. I find that through it all, I still love her as well. She wants to return to the man who helped her these past months hoping that he will have a plan to keep her hidden.
***
My Nara is leading us into a dense forest to hopefully dodge the men chasing us. I have seen no sign that we are being followed by she insists they are close behind. I know that she is a monster but I cannot ignore my undying love for her. I would follow her anywhere. After dinner we will continue on our journey and hope that these men do not catch up.

This is it! The perfect place for our outdoor party. A nice clearing for the buffet table, cool stream babbling nearby. Oh what fun we'll have. There is even a convenient cave nearby for my scavenger hunt. Elnora is doubtful that anyone will show...as usual...but she'll see once the guests arrive. Let those traveling revelers mock me will they!? This will show them how a true reveler....um revel!!!

It's getting late and no one has arrived. I wonder if I made the clues to the location a little too cryptic. No matter. Better to weed out all of the dullards. Nothing like an engaging party with true intellectuals like myself. Elnora has been nagging me to leave for the last two hours. But I remain in good spirits. This will be the event of the season!!!

They're here!! I was beginning to have my doubts, but a group approaches at this very moment. Divines be praised! Let the festivities begin!!!

-Author unknown-

At the time I am able to post this comment, the Tales of the dead contest has been over for hours. I was unable to post my entry to this forum because the "Invitation" code I was sent had expired months ago. By the time they got back to me with a new account of their own creation, 36 hours AFTER I submitted the problem. Because they took so long, I was unable to post my entry and was effectively barred from competing by the costumer service department. I am posting the entry anyway however. If this story can't entre the competition, at least I hope entertained by it.

The courier was late, far too late to be a simple delay. That thought weighed heavily on Arringoth’s mind as the wealthy wood elf strode swiftly along a dusty trail in northern Reaper’s March. He was only a few miles south of the Cyrodiil, traveling to broker a deal with his suppler. The young Khajiit was always quick about his work if good coin was promised, even quicker with the promise of skooma. That sugar-sweet drug of the cat folk and the gold it promised was the reason a rich Bosmer would not only journey this far from the safety of Anvil, but travel alone.
Arringoth was one of several dealers on the docks of the city. Any of his rivals or the numerous bandits of the region would be only too happy to relieve the Mer of his head, his business, and more importantly, his stock of skooma. Knowing this, the paranoid elf could not afford to hire a sell sword or bring his muscle for fear of attracting attention.
A few hours had passed since dawn as Arringoth neared the camp of his supplier. The Altmer who called himself the Sugar Baron had provided the drug of distilled moon sugar to northern dealers for more than ten years. Rather impressive for anyone dealing in the deadly contraband. The Wood Elf followed the narrow path high up the ravine of weathered rock before he arrived in a small, shaded clearing tucked away amid the massive boulders of an isolated ridge.
The Sugar Baron shouted a greeting to his costumer as the Bosmer surveyed his surroundings. The clearing was not completely desolate. A few small trees skirted by bushes, flowers, and tall grass filled a wide corner of the open ground and a cold camp fire sat unattended. The Wood Elf returned his attention to his altmer supplier. He sat on the opposite side of the clearing in a finely carved wooden chair with his back to a boulder. Before the High Elf sat an equally fine wooden table and a vacant chair. Upon the table waited a meal of cheese and grapes with a pair of goblets awaiting the contents of the bottle of fine wine beside them.
After greetings and formalities had passed, Arringoth sat across from the Baron and the two began to discuss business. Negotiations had gone well until shouting rose from the rocks. After that, all hell broke loose. Several bandit bowmen leaped atop the surrounding rocks and loused arrows on the skooma peddlers below. The Baron turned and shouted his surrender. He was answered and silenced with an arrow to his head. Arringoth tried to run with a wedge of cheese still in hand as stray arrows touched down around. He didn’t make it far. The Wood Elf stumbled and fell by the camp fire onto his back as an arrow pierced his eye. All that work for nothing. This was no way to conduct business.

The mage finished casting the spell, hoping to learn what happened to his employer's missing cargo. As soon as the last of the words left his lips, two images started to form.

The images were of two bretons, of similar build and appearance. They looked around, and focus on the remains of their bodies.

"Those arrows - dammit, that blasted bosmer betrayed us. I told you we shouldn't trust someone who isn't willing to go to their own home!" said the slightly older seeming one.

So one of the guards stole the cargo? My employer won't like that. The mage's musings were interrupted by the other summoned ghost shouting obscenities.

"You blasted cheat! There must be a dozen different dice here. You would cheat your own brother?"

Ah, so these are the brothers. At least we can make sure their remains get sent home.

"You said you'd stopped. That you'd reformed. I thought you had just a good run of luck but now I can see you lie like a sack of elven -" the ghost stops and turns to the mage. "Would you please leave? This is a family matter, and I don't appreciate you listening in on -"

No wonder they're dead. I wonder if the bosmer even had to shoot at them from hiding? thought the mage as he dismissed the spell, banishing the ghosts. Oh well, time to return. Wonder if I'll get to sleep before I'm sent after the bosmer?

(Hello, everyone. I wasn't going to take the bait but then I decided to. Uh. Paw at the little plastic bit of cheese in the trap, so to speak. I guess it's more like an epilogue, so this one's probably not what you're looking for! But in the end, I really just hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed chucking things at it.)

(NB: Open Office says it's exactly 498 words. What can I say, I like living on the edge.)

But was this a terrible crime or someone's idea of a joke? Everyone at HQ had to admit, the notion of two fellows dragging a heavy wooden dining table (complete with an inedible pastiche of wax amuse-bouche) into the wilderness for a candlelit dinner was more Surrealist than Classical.

Evidence of a violent ambush made it a grisly scene however, and not an appropriate piece for any respectable Aldmeri drawing room.

In any case, Aldmeri Dominion Special Case Caseworker Case Supervisor Uurelinium was on the case, as hard as that was to believe. Confidently, with all the hard-boiled experience that came from working cases like these, he strode into the tableau.

"At the intersection of murder and comedy," he began, then stopped short of a revelation.

Needed more ruminating. While Uurelinium chewed, Aldmeri Dominion junior special agent (no capitalization for the juniors) Arlen Askew wandered to the weathered picnic table where one of the subjects sat.

Still life of a dead man. Arlen could only venture that the main course of this dinner left something to be desired.

"Aye, no two bones about it, this chappie's quite dead," Arlen said, picking up the victim's wrist. Death had left it a bit bony.

"Tipso pipso, 'twas murder paired with the wine on the table that day." Uurelinium turned on his heels and lifted a finger. "Murder for what? Crumbs, I say."

Arlen dislodged an arrow from a half-melted bunch of grapes. He stroked the fletchings; oily black cormorant feathers, like the ones used by a local tribe of goblins. "You think... Perhaps it's just a warning? Sir?"

A rustle from a towering Symphoricarpos albus.

"I think we'd best forget this Neighborhood Watch racket and focus on this composition of this scene and the, uh," Uurelinium searched, "boldness of its statement. Clearly a sardonic message concerning the greatest irony of life; the inevitability of death."

Arlen gestured at the skeleton. "That arrow in his head, 's fresh."

A polyphonic gruttering reverberating around the rocks.

"It's only subtext!" Uurelinium loved subtext. "Notice how this skeleton's hand is forever reaching for that wedge of cheese."

A grey streak through the air, an oily fletched THOINK through the table, giving the skeleton something else to reach for.

Arlen blanched.

"Comedy? Bah! What greater tragedy than to be eternally trapped in a state of longing?" Uurelinium's beady eyes had misted over. "The subtext of this murder is Time. Time moves forward inexorably but we must appreciate it while we have the faculty to do so!

"I--"

"--you must move, Arlen! Act!" Uurelinium lunged forward and grabbed the young Bosmer's shoulders. "Before your inescapable installation as a work of absurdist art! Our collective mortality! We are all doomed to become art!"

"I don't want to be art!" Arlen whimpered as another arrow whizzed uncomfortably close to his ear. "'s all very fine, but we ought not overlook the text of the installation either."

"What?"

"They're here, they're armed and they hate us, sir!"

(Thanks for reading. If you feel the need to flame this, all I ask is that you have the common decency to do it sneakily, behind my back.)

[2e 583]
10/ Morning Star
I can't keep living like this.
Scavenging and begging just to eat is a
pitiful way of living.
I've heard rumours of a guild of thieves
recruiting in Daggerfall, if anything at all
I'm hoping for some warm shelter and food.

18/ Morning Star
They accepted me!
A dark basement isn't the best place to live,
but it's a roof over my head at least.
The house is owned by a redguard who we only call 'T'.
Who would've known this place even existed under such an inconspicuous house?

22/ Morning Star
I'm told today is the day my ancestors
wake the spirits of nature after the cold months.
Today I take food and cloth from
merchants in the Marketplace. I try not to
think about who pays the
consequences for my actions.

25/ Morning Star
I've been here a week now and seen all kinds of valuables brought
in to the guild, none of it goes in to making this place look nicer,
that’s for sure. When I asked some other members where it goes, they told me
the guild master gives everything we don't need to help people like us, but with this
kind of money going around someone would notice.
What sort of guild master only gives away a single inital to his most trusted friends anyway?

1/ Sun's Dawn
The markets were filled with busy
merchants not watching wares. I
caught an easy haul, but the air felt tense
and I could feel warm eyes on me.
I found their owner, shining from the crowd,
I only caught a glimpse but she mystified me anyway.

12/ Sun's Dawn
I was in the Cathedral today and caught myself
checking for valuables.
When did I stop noticing the beauty of this place
and start looking for ways to exploit the innocent?

24/ Sun's Dawn
On the way back from the Market, the Guild
Master passed me, I followed him to a
warehouse, straight to where he was hiding the
treasure, he's been playing us all.

18/ First Seed
I came here to get what I needed to survive,
I thought they were like me, but this is an
organisation run by greed. I still need them,
but there must be a better life than this.

22/ First Seed
I saw the Breton girl again.
She left me a note on a table…
I'm going to meet her tonight.

23/ First Seed
We're leaving.
She's beautiful.
I won't steal from the innocent,
But I will steal from the guilty.

7/ Rain's Hand
I took what I could carry from T's warehouse, a HUGE bag filled with gold!
We ran east and never looked back with enough gold to buy anything we want,
I'm writing this next to a beautiful waterfall and life has never looked better, I just
hope my old life never catches up t

'No one steals from me and lives to enjoy the spoils.

Consider your debt paid.

T.'

I ran after the summoned clannifer I had nicknamed, Clanny. The darn thing would run away at the smallest of shiny objects. For a summoned creature he could ignore most of my commands if he was distracted. I almost ran into it in the small clearing where it was busily munching on some cheese.

Cheese?

I looked quickly around and saw two skeletons in the middle of what seemed to have been a picnic. More strange still was that there was no meat on their bones, nor clothing. Chairs were strewn about and both skeletons though lacking even the barest of rags, seemed to be impaled with many, many arrows. Quickly looking around for bandits I hissed at the still chomping clannifer.

“Dang it Clanny, stop eating all the cheese. You know what that does to you.” I scrunched my nose at the remembered smells.

I stepped closer and decided that these bodies had been here for some time. Weird though...all other items were still present...bags, money pouches and the like. I gingerly picking up a piece of cheese it seemed as fresh as new. Why would any bandits leave such things...?

Then it hit me like the stink that would surely come from the daedra after its cheese binge. Sheo...

Suddenly the air around me seemed to shrink and a loud pop rang my ears. The clannifer abandoned his cheese run wildly behind me. I didn't even bother to turn.

“Hello, Mad God.”

A weird laughter erupted, “Well if it isn't me favorite mortal. Come to admire a bit more of me handiwork?”

With a sigh I turned away from the scene to face Sheogorath, who was scratching the clannifer. “Oh yes it is just lovely. Watch out though Clanny ate some cheese...” At that statement there was a long, rumbling sound followed by the most foul stench of brimstone and spoiled cheese. The clannifer didn't even look ashamed.

The Mad God laughed again, “Well aren't you just good at cutting the cheese. If only these poor sods had enjoyed it as well as you, Clanny. But they complained...indeed after I worked so hard on their picnic..well..after Haskill worked so hard...” Sheo tilted his head and a twinkling appeared dangerous in his eyes. “Do you know, Mortal..what they dared to complain about? Had the very nerve after I give them all they were wishing for? Why they said these cheese was not sharp enough. Fixed that right up I did! Ha ha!”

Turning back to the scene I walked to the skeleton sitting somewhat upright. I pulled the still stuck arrow from its skull. I had to agree that the Mad God had indeed...given them some requested sharpness.

One had to be so careful when asking a boon from the Mad God...

Let me tell you about a delightful young couple I once met. They were very much in love, you see. And love is the greatest form of madness. But that’s not what this story is really about.
Did you know, there are places outside of Oblivion and Nirn? It’s true. And your Uncle Sheo found a portal to one of them. Impressive, isn’t it?
It was a strange place, even to me. I found the young love birds there, sitting in the same room but not looking at each other. They were staring at some sort of windows, and do you know what I saw through them? Guess. Never mind, I’ll tell you. I saw Nirn. May I never eat cheese again if I’m lying! Well, yes, I lie all the time, but not about this.
They were looking at Rivenspire, of all things. Dreary place, if you ask me.
But how, you may be wondering, could they do this? Were they gods? No, they weren’t. Ha! They were ordinary people.
I walked in and tried to have a closer look at their little windows, but they got quite upset, if you can believe it. So I introduced myself, and they said they knew me. They’d seen me through the windows. Mad, isn’t it? I was tickled pink.
Do you know what they asked me next? They asked if I could take them to Nirn. I could, naturally, but your Uncle Sheo doesn’t do favors for nothing. I didn’t ask them for gold or anything dull like that, though. I asked to choose the time, and the place in Nirn. Simple as that.
I’m generous, I know.
So that was the deal, and the love birds agreed to it. I left and made some preparations, enjoyed a nice cup of moon-sugar tea, and went back to get them. They were ready and waiting, standing there holding hands. Daft as skeevers.
So I took them through the portal to Oblivion, then dropped them off in Nirn at the place I’d chosen. Lovely little glade. I’d set up a table there with a charming meal for them. Quite tasteful, if I say so myself. They sat right down and started eating, thanking me over and over. By then I’d started to wonder if they knew as much about me as they said they did.
Neither one of them saw the bandits until the arrows were flying. You do remember what I said about making preparations, don’t you? I wasn’t just setting the table, elegant though it was. No, I’d made sure that every bandit from Wayrest to Shornhelm knew there would be a rich young couple in that glade at just that time. Positively bulging with precious stones and gold.
No, they weren’t really wealthy. Of course not. That’s the best part of the story! Must I explain everything?
You take the fun right out of this sometimes, do you know that? Oh, but never mind. Your Uncle Sheo forgives you.

Lorana gazed at my bloodied figure as I tried to catch my breath, her turquoise eyes impassive. Moments earlier I had burst from the cave and dropped to my knees, my back aflame with pain and my feet failing to hold me upright as I struggled to stand. I was clutching a heavy sack close to my body, my knuckles white with the strain as my head spun with wild eyed terror. She slowly shook her head.

‘You should never have gone in there’.

I frantically ignored Lorana’s resigned, toneless and empty response. Her strangely elegant frame was still and motionless as the sound of my ragged breathing rhythmically punctuated the morning air. My tongue felt swollen and useless - horrific images, terrors and fear clouded my mind. We needed to find some way to leave. We had to go. There was no time!

Lorana read my wordless gestures yet remained infuriatingly still. I stumbled weakly toward her and fell once more, strength flowing out of me like an ebbing tide as my mind filled with thick, viscous darkness.

My amulet. I do not know how long I lay there until what felt like the warmth of the rising sun gently pulse from my pocket, washing over me, thawing the paralysing fear and desperation which had taken root in the very marrow of my bones. I smelt the sweet familiar scent of flowers as my senses returned to me. I became aware of the soft dampness of the moss under my aching back and the familiarity of the steady ground as my mind began to clear. A sudden icy chill swept over me like a spider as my eyes settled on Lorana.

Lorana was sat at a candlelit table, her tall frame eerily illuminated by an unnatural glow. A banquet of wine, cheese and grapes was spread out before her, her eyes blank, vacant and empty. She caught my stare and abruptly fixed her eyes upon me, a lopsided, deranged smile widening across her face. My eyes flicked from Lorana, to the heavy sack, then back to Lorana.

‘Wonderful!’ Lorana screeched unexpectedly. ‘Time for a celebration... Cheese for everyone! Wait, scratch that. You have my sack. Woops! Cheese for no one...’

A block of cheese struck my arm. A mad laugh echoed before me. Lorana was still laughing when the arrows found their mark.

The Bosmer's nimble fingers could fleece the tusks off a mammoth, or so she often boasted, but the pale blue glow of the gemstone held her digits at bay. It's only light, Sudd 'The Swiftest' told herself, Just a glowin' pebble on a dusty altar, in a long-lost crypt, filled with undead. There would be words with the Mage's Guild representative that subcontracted her this 'simple pickup.' Pointy words.

The young thief winced at the jarring clatter of the skeletal warriors that crushed below her mercenary companion's heavy maul. Grunk's savage bellows roused the ancient guardians nearly as fast as the grizzled Orc could pulverize them.

Sudd spat a colorful curse and snatched the stone. "Care for a Jazbay Cabernet? Perhaps a Bervez Wine, or -- I know! -- what you need is an Eye-Opener." A man's bemused quip trailed off in sinister forewarning, but Sudd was deaf to the overture. Her feral sense of self-preservation flared against the unannounced teleportation. She and Grunk were back outside at their old campsite and seated opposite the other at an oddly placed dining table. The large mercenary struggled to clear his mouth of a thick cheese wedge, only to have another appear in its place to gag him.

The host, a mature Breton in burgundy and purple finery, retrieved the soiled wedge and proffered it with a grin of manic hospitality, "Blue Guar Brie?" Sudd wrinkled her nose and struggled against the sorcery compelling her to sit. Her legs were leaden. The peculiar fellow sampled the wedge before speaking around yellow mash, "I do so love me wines and cheeses. But this isn't a social visit! I am the owner of something you have, yet I am denied its recoverance. How sad." He noisily swallowed, awaiting her reply.

Sudd called the Grahtwood Middens home and recognized a shakedown. The gem in her palm was the last memory she had before this captive dinner theater. Without hesitation she tossed it on the table, "Here! Take the blasted thing!"

"There! I can't!" The host chortled with glee, then regret, "This Rain Stone must be bone dry before you can pass it on. It has enough juice for one last use. Would you, deary?"

Sudd's career had only begun, but she vowed to avoid sorcerers from thereon out. She retrieved the stone and agreed, "Fine." Just as Sudd activated the gems geometric Rune, Grunk went berserk. He tore his lower jaw wide with a terrible crack to bark a desperate, "WAIT--!" around a Gouda.

The last thing Sudd and Grunk saw was their host sheltering below a steel umbrella. Then the arrows fell. "Well, that was easy. Most people at least ask what it rains." Sheogorath, Daedric Prince of Madness, couldn't help but grin as he fisted the long-lost toy. Its power would return in time. On a whim he dropped the Akavari assassin trap into a heavy sack at the campsite, then vanished.

Sharing is caring.

We didn’t want to hurt anyone.

I hammered my fist down onto the wood, knocking the wine over the edge of the table. The bottleneck struck first. Red spewed onto the soil as the cork dislodged. Elliah’s eyes were fixated on the stream of wine, even as she spoke.

“Did you know…” she began.

“Hmm?” I said.

“Some say that red holds power”

I had heard this story every spring when the mountain flowers bloomed. Elliah and I would spend a whole afternoon lounging in the hillside meadows. Her hair would be down and she would smile at me sometimes. She always put red flowers in her hair and I always felt alive.

I watched the campfire burn while Elliah fetched the whiskey in her pack. It took three long gulps before my throat stopped screaming.

“Foul stuff,” I said.

Elliah smiled.

“Are you going to finish your story?” I asked.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

I remembered the wine bottle I knocked onto the ground. It still had a good swig or two in it when I picked it up. The bottle felt cold in my hand and my chest was tingling from the whiskey. I didn’t know what to do so I threw the bottle hard against the rocks. It shattered on impact.

I sat at the table with my back to Elliah and the fire. It was still burning brightly and the light made me dizzy. If Elliah was speaking, I wasn’t listening. I nibbled at the cheese we left out on the table and stared at my hand. The knuckles seemed to be healing right and the bruising had lessened. It was still sore but the whiskey helped me not to care.

“Do you think they’ll keep coming after us?” Elliah asked.

She sat down across from me and stared at the cheese in my hand. It tasted sour and my stomach couldn’t handle much more.

“I hope not,” I said.

“If we’re out here long enough, won’t they give up?”

“Sure they will, but we should move again tomorrow,” I said

“But I like it here, can’t we stay?”

“Sure we can.”

My stomach hurt.

Lieutenant Korlock’s Log

Morndas, 12th day of Heartfire, 583

I’ll be glad to finally be off this island, with those accursed ruins behind us. Even if this was a secret mission from the Captain, I should've turned my squad around as soon as I saw the statue of Daedric Prince. I could feel the Daedric taint permeate this place like a suffocating bog. But the Captain said a weapon that could turn the war’s tide was hidden here, so I had to investigate, even if it went against my instincts.

Now, over half my men are either dead or thralls controlled by those damn Daedra. I had to put down Pergius, a man I've served two campaigns with, when his corpse rose up and tried to tear a chunk out of that rookie Kenren’s arm. Better that he go to the Divines’ side than be enslaved by the Daedra.

This whole mission has been a failure. How can I possibly face their families and tell them my men died for nothing?

Loredas, 17th day of Heartfire, 583

Fortunately, Kenren’s going to make it. Looks like the Divines are watching out for that lad. Best news I’ve had all week.

He’s had a ravenous appetite ever since his health returned, but I don’t blame him for being tired of Sillonius’ vegetable soup. I wouldn’t feed that crap to an Alit.

Tirdas, 2nd day of Frostfall, 583

Kahn’Dar died today. His neck had been shredded into a gaping maw. I told the men a Senche-tiger got him to allay their fears, but Kahn’Dar was one of my best rangers. A mere beast couldn't have gotten him. Besides, there was too much of his body left. He wasn't eaten by some ravenous beast; he was viciously murdered. I fear we may have brought something back from the island, and now it’s stalking us.

Kenren seems different, probably traumatized. Can’t say I blame him. First, the lad almost dies in a Daedra-infested ruin and now he’s lost his mentor.

Turdas, 12th day of Frostfall, 583

By the Divines! It was Kenren all along or rather that thing inside him. Some kind of Daedra had stealthily possessed him and patiently enslaved the others in the squad, whittling our numbers and strength away. I could’ve been next. Luckily, I got free and put Sillonius and Tharoth to rest with my bow.

I don’t know who to trust, or if I’ll be able to make it back home. I just pray that someone finds this log and stops Ke-

Lieutenant Elsinaer’s Log

Fredas, 13th day of Frostfall, 583

Today, we found a straggler covered head to toe in blood and gore. Poor kid’s probably been to Oblivion and back. I had a healer tend to his wounds. He wanted us to go back for his squad. Thinks they’re still alive. No idea if it’s the truth or not. Still, I have a duty to investigate. The straggler said his name was...

I hope I'm not too late, couldn't log in to the forum and had to contact support...

________________________________________________________________________

Their huntng expedition had been quite successful, to begin with. Lots of Guar and Alit hides and meat, some of which they traded for bread, cheese, beer and wine whenever they came upon a travelling merchant or an inn.

Lately though, as they continued their way south along the road, Jillian and her brothers Jack and John had come across less and less prey. Either there were other hunters in the area, or something had scared off the prey.

Reluctantly, they turned to banditry. While they did feel uncomfortable about it the first few times, they soon bedame used to the sense of anticipation building up whenever they spotted a traveller on the road.

The last nobleman had had a bodyguard with him, but that was no match for the three siblings - not until the mage showed up.
Jillian, who considered herself a master shot, had peppered him with arrows to keep him from casting spells. Eventually, she managed to kill him off, but not before he had cursed them all.

Jack, the greediest of the three, thoroughly searched the mage's body. Triumphantly, he held up a big gem, admiring all the colours that flashed inside of it.

'Get rid of that, it's probably cursed too!' Jillian sneered. Jack just stuck his tongue out at her and stuffed the gem inside his shirt. 'Calm down, little sister, I'm sure it's worth a fortune!'

As twilight approached, they pulled back to their camp. Jillian's brothers had constructed beds, chairs and even a table, and they all settled down for an evening meal.

Suddenly, Jack got up on his feet.

'Did you hear that?'

John and Jillian both listened intently, then shook their heads.

'What did you hear?' asked John.

'A voice - a voice talking to me, threatening me!' exlaimed Jack.

'Nobody threatens me!'

Grabbing his sword, Jack stalked off. John and Jillian looked at each other, and then shrugged.

'He's probably going nutters after all this time in the wilderness', said Jillian.

'Mhm', John agreed, his mouth filled with cheese and bread, polishing his sword.

Suddenly Jillian got up, bow and arrow at the ready.

'What was that?'

'What was - ' John began, but fell silent as he took an arrow in the head.

Looking around in panic, Jillian thought she could hear the mage laughing. The mage that she had killed earlier.

'Show yourself!' she yelled.

The only reply was a volley of arrows that pierced her body.
'Damn your greediness, Jack, should have left the gem alone!' was the last thought that ran through her mind as she fell to the ground.