Diary entry 4. I have lost track of the date again.
So again I am sitting around a campfire, sporting new bruises, cuts and magika burns. Since my last entry I joined the stormcloaks in an ambush on an imperial patrol (mainly because I had no choice). We hunkered down by some boulders by the road, quietly waiting until we heard the sounds of brisk marching. Except they weren't actually marching. They were sprinting. In a rout. The stormcloaks were so jacked up on bad mead and blood lust that they didn't notice how banged up the imperials were and jumped right on top of them stabbing, hacking and slashing. Then a whole horde of forsworn that were chasing the imperials rounded the bend throwing bolts of fire, frost and shock. The rear stormcloaks got blasted instantly and the remaining stormcloaks and imperials were hacked to pieces. The only thing that saved me was my dragon skin and a hastily erected ward.
Then the leader of the forsworn, some scary man with a pine cone sticking out of his chest lifted me to my feet and said something about "chosen one" and then all the rest of the savages started bowing to me!
So now I am sitting around a campfire with these f***ing psychos, wearing rotting skins and feathers and sticks that are poking into my private parts and the forsworn are feeding me these herbal teas and telling me I am going to be "honored by the mother" and all this other horker s***. My head is swimming, and I am feeling all hot and I can hardly write and now, oh Arkay, I am getting a huge boner and getting really horny, wtf? Ahh, gotta go!
Diary entry 5. Date - I don't really care.
Oh gods and daedra, I don't know where to start. I am sitting in the Silverblood inn, trying my damnedest to get drunk and trying to write in my journal but for the love of Arkay I can't stop my hand from shaking. The past few days have been the most horrific I have spent so far in Skyrim. I'm not sure I can even write this but I have to get it off my chest.
When I last wrote I was sitting around a campfire, drugged and half-naked surrounded by cavorting Forsworn savages, after being captured by them in a raid gone wrong. They told me I was the "Chosen one" and a "guest" who would be "honored by the mother". They gave me several types of sedatives and then a really strong aphrodisiac and when I got all randy the forsworn women started to fondle me. I thought, ... oh GODS!.. I thought it was some kind of ritualistic orgy, but then they led me into a tent covered in animals skulls, and they made me.... HAVE SEX WITH THE HAGRAVEN WAITING INSIDE!!!
Arkay! Please kill me!!!! Being eaten by frost trolls or draugr would have been a kinder fate. I just can't get that twisted grinning face with the hawk-nose and foul breath in my face as they held me down, out of my head!
Dammit, Cosnach was reading over my shoulder and is now telling the whole inn - I am now the laughing stock of Markarth. The hagraven affair was bad enough without everyone knowing about it!
When I came to I was tied to a stake dressed in a few rags and covered in scratches and feathers. I tried my best to conjure a bound sword but in that state all I could manage was a steak knife. At least it was sharp enough and I managed to escape into the reach whilst the hagraven was engaged in some ritual with the forsworn. It was at least three days of clambering across stones and hills with no food and only water from streams until I came to a cliff overlooking Markarth. If it hadn't been for my dragonskin and a huge pile of horse s*** I would have broken my neck sliding down the cliff to get to the front gate.
Once I was inside some idiot started yelling about the forsworn and I had forgotten that I was still dressed in those barbarian's furs and the guards grabbed me while some poor lady got her throat cut. They assumed I was somehow involved in the attack and chucked me into Cidhna mine!
So, then I was a prisoner again, but as soon as I was in the mine the prisoners took me straight to the king in rags. He looked me up and down and mentioned the words "chosen one" and I just f***ing lost it. I grabbed the nearest pick-axe and buried it in his skull and then grabbed his keys and took off through the mine ruins before his men could grab me. I was beserk by that stage, and I think I bolted past several frost-bite spiders and dwarven constructs, which ended up killing the other prisoners that were chasing me instead. I managed to get out of the mine and who was waiting for me when I came out? That silverblood prick! He thanked me for doing Markarth a service and then gave me a silver ring which improved my blacksmithing skill by 1%!! A**hole!!
So now I am sitting in in the tavern, with everyone laughing at me, after this horrible ordeal I've just had. The inn owner's wife has at least felt sorry for me and has offered me a free room an board for tonight. Oh Gods, now the patrons are asking me to regale them with tales of my adventures in exchange for ale. "Chosen one! Chosen one!" they are chanting. Oh well, can't beat em so may as well join em.
Vianto, The Chosen one
Comments
Made me smile, again.