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Description
"We work in the Dark, to serve the Light." A sweet screenshot of Sa'dow in his Silent Assailant armor.

(Excerpt from the secret Journal of the Master Assassin of the Penitus Oculatus, Sa'dow of the Ordo Skyrim)

"29th of Hearthfire, 4E 202."

Well, another day, another kill. Two this time, actually, both in the Rift. The 1st was just south of Windhelm, on his way to the boarder, carrying something the Order thought shouldn't reach it's destination.

D### Thalmor, even now their schemes are as insidious and numberless as ever. I'm certain I've gathered more then enough evidence for the Council back home in Cyrodiil to topple those high-and-mighty Elves from their petty throne of schemes. Yet still their Justiciars patrol the roads of Skyrim, serving "Justice" on all those they deem "Heretics" and "Traitors". They deserve the same fate ten fold for their actions behind closed doors.

The other was down in Riften itself. Not Mavin Blackbriar, unfortunately, but one can always hope...

Nah, this one was typical contract, from a not-so-typical contractor. (Would you believe the captain of the guard actually performed the Black Sacrament to have this guy's head?) Some Milkdrinking Necromancer who thought he could get away with murdering a member of the town guard's once a month. No point guessing why he did it. Rather hard to find the corps of an actually experienced fighter to perform experiments on nowadays.

This one was different, though. For a inexperienced conjurer, he knew his way around a blade and blind spot. Finding him in broad daylight would have been futile. Thank Hircien for his blessing of hunters patience, for I had to wait for my prey till midnight, up here at the top of the Jarl's keep where I could see the whole of the town with ease just to catch him in the act. Once again, Nocturnal's favor allowed me to move with the shadows each time I ascended the Keep. The guards didn't suspect a thing.

Sure enough, the target appeared by his pattern; midnight, when the clouds passed across the moons. An old trick to hide one's presence in the dead of night, but no match for my sense - his aura glowed like a bright flame in the darkness. He was sneaking up on an unassuming guard on the bridge by the inn. His next victim. I could feel the thrill of the hunt taking hold as I drew my bow, that sweet chill that ran down your spine when you knew your arrow would strike fast and true... Truly, nothing can compare.

It was close. Too close. The killer was right behind him. My aim had to be perfect. I allowed my grip to slip, time stood-still, the arrow flew.

Perfection. The arrow struck the target square in the head. Dead before his lifeless body even touched the ground. I don't know why, but I always find a hint of irony when killing a Necromancer...

I stayed a moment. The guard noticed the creep finally, nearly tripping over his own boots with fright. Didn't take him long to call for back up. I grinned. Another day, another kill.

But the grin didn't last. I needed a challenge. A real challenge. There hadn't been a Dragon attack for months now, and other then the messenger yesterday, there had been next to no activity from the Thalmor in that time either. All that was left to battle in this land are beasts, bandits, Reach-men, lowlifes and scoundrels. But until the Oculatus' decides to lift the travel restriction they placed on myself and Ivory, neither of us are allowed to actually leave Skyrim for other adventures...

Hmm... This entry seems shorter then usual. I could always make up the space by reciting my recent thoughts and feelings like any normal person would. Heh. Not like anyone will actually read it besides myself..

As I laid in waiting for my prey, with nothing to keep me company but a bottle off Dragon's Breath Mead and a few pieces of stale cheese and bread, I actually had some time to myself to think on recent events, something I barely had time to do anymore it seems.

First that came to mind was how much I missed Ivory's company. She had other duties to attend back at Solista Castle for once. By the nine, do I miss her when she isn't by my side, even for a day. I dread to think what might happen to her when I'm not with her, knowing full well that she can handle herself in a fight. I should know - I still have the Frost-burn in several places to prove it...

As always, our continued existence and her powers of Ice and Winter still elude us. Immortality is nice and all, but *why* we have it is another matter entirely. As for our powers - Lilmothiit aren't even suppose to wield magica by nature, and no other Lilmothiit exist besides us anymore to even see if this was actually true or not. Apparently the Greybeards say I'm an exception to the rules simply because of my Dragon-blood/soul. That I can no longer deny.

But Ivory...

It's as if she was 'made' of magica. Unstable magica at that. I know, I know: I have written of this before, but it still troubles me. How can she, a Lilmothiit, wield such a tremendously powerful and unstable amount of magica? And why only Frost related? Every battle we fought in, she would leave our foes lifeless statues, frozen inside out. Not to mention leaving me with several new scars of Frost-burn. Thank Akatosh for my enchanted cloak...

What concerns me most of all is that she would barely remember any of it afterwards. As if she's no longer herself when she taps into her powers. Above all of my fears, I fear that she would one day lose herself entirely, and that is something my heart cannot bear...

The second thing that came to my idle mind was... everything else, actually.

What are we doing here? What am I doing here? In Skyrim? In Tamriel? Alive I have been for hundreds of years (Ivory even longer), and yet the first thing I can remember is waking up in a tiny prison cell.

Then meeting the Emperor and the Oblivion crisis, blah-blah-blah...

But beyond that... Nothing. Who was I? Where did I come from? Am I just some nobody that was in the wrong place at the right time with an extraordinary heritage, or am I truly a son of Akatosh? This... Dragonborn? The powers fit, and I've always felt drawn to old "Father Akatosh", and he has greatly rewarded my faith in him, but... really? It all just seem too... convenient at times. I do, however, have other theories. Though they are... troubling at best.

Going over the research material I've gathered from the old Lilmothiit ruins back in Black March, I may have stumbled upon something significant. Recently, I've become aware of something called "Maa-Gerra-Sharm Wa'akkier" being mentioned more and more frequently in scriptures and glyphs written closer to the date of their disappearance. Whatever these things were, the texts seem to indicate that they could destroy the enemies of the Lilmothiit with powers they themselves couldn't wield. Translating it's meaning has been rough, but the gist of it seems to be "Sharing of Soul and Mind," and "Changed/Transformed". Call it an educated guess, but it almost sounds like the Lilmothiit used their soul-magic to create Magica imbued warriors to serve them in battle.

Could Ivory be one of them? Could I be one as well? Abominations of Magic created only for War? A disturbing thought.

Again, this is just a theory, and I might have to explore more of the old ruins to find more proof of~

Heh. Look at me rambling like old M'aiq. Crazy cat... Seems Ivory and I aren't the only one's who apparently can live forever either..."

Description
"We work in the Dark, to serve the Light." A sweet screenshot of Sa'dow in his Silent Assailant armor.

(Excerpt from the secret Journal of the Master Assassin of the Penitus Oculatus, Sa'dow of the Ordo Skyrim)

"29th of Hearthfire, 4E 202."

Well, another day, another kill. Two this time, actually, both in the Rift. The 1st was just south of Windhelm, on his way to the boarder, carrying something the Order thought shouldn't reach it's destination.

D### Thalmor, even now their schemes are as insidious and numberless as ever. I'm certain I've gathered more then enough evidence for the Council back home in Cyrodiil to topple those high-and-mighty Elves from their petty throne of schemes. Yet still their Justiciars patrol the roads of Skyrim, serving "Justice" on all those they deem "Heretics" and "Traitors". They deserve the same fate ten fold for their actions behind closed doors.

The other was down in Riften itself. Not Mavin Blackbriar, unfortunately, but one can always hope...

Nah, this one was typical contract, from a not-so-typical contractor. (Would you believe the captain of the guard actually performed the Black Sacrament to have this guy's head?) Some Milkdrinking Necromancer who thought he could get away with murdering a member of the town guard's once a month. No point guessing why he did it. Rather hard to find the corps of an actually experienced fighter to perform experiments on nowadays.

This one was different, though. For a inexperienced conjurer, he knew his way around a blade and blind spot. Finding him in broad daylight would have been futile. Thank Hircien for his blessing of hunters patience, for I had to wait for my prey till midnight, up here at the top of the Jarl's keep where I could see the whole of the town with ease just to catch him in the act. Once again, Nocturnal's favor allowed me to move with the shadows each time I ascended the Keep. The guards didn't suspect a thing.

Sure enough, the target appeared by his pattern; midnight, when the clouds passed across the moons. An old trick to hide one's presence in the dead of night, but no match for my sense - his aura glowed like a bright flame in the darkness. He was sneaking up on an unassuming guard on the bridge by the inn. His next victim. I could feel the thrill of the hunt taking hold as I drew my bow, that sweet chill that ran down your spine when you knew your arrow would strike fast and true... Truly, nothing can compare.

It was close. Too close. The killer was right behind him. My aim had to be perfect. I allowed my grip to slip, time stood-still, the arrow flew.

Perfection. The arrow struck the target square in the head. Dead before his lifeless body even touched the ground. I don't know why, but I always find a hint of irony when killing a Necromancer...

I stayed a moment. The guard noticed the creep finally, nearly tripping over his own boots with fright. Didn't take him long to call for back up. I grinned. Another day, another kill.

But the grin didn't last. I needed a challenge. A real challenge. There hadn't been a Dragon attack for months now, and other then the messenger yesterday, there had been next to no activity from the Thalmor in that time either. All that was left to battle in this land are beasts, bandits, Reach-men, lowlifes and scoundrels. But until the Oculatus' decides to lift the travel restriction they placed on myself and Ivory, neither of us are allowed to actually leave Skyrim for other adventures...

Hmm... This entry seems shorter then usual. I could always make up the space by reciting my recent thoughts and feelings like any normal person would. Heh. Not like anyone will actually read it besides myself..

As I laid in waiting for my prey, with nothing to keep me company but a bottle off Dragon's Breath Mead and a few pieces of stale cheese and bread, I actually had some time to myself to think on recent events, something I barely had time to do anymore it seems.

First that came to mind was how much I missed Ivory's company. She had other duties to attend back at Solista Castle for once. By the nine, do I miss her when she isn't by my side, even for a day. I dread to think what might happen to her when I'm not with her, knowing full well that she can handle herself in a fight. I should know - I still have the Frost-burn in several places to prove it...

As always, our continued existence and her powers of Ice and Winter still elude us. Immortality is nice and all, but *why* we have it is another matter entirely. As for our powers - Lilmothiit aren't even suppose to wield magica by nature, and no other Lilmothiit exist besides us anymore to even see if this was actually true or not. Apparently the Greybeards say I'm an exception to the rules simply because of my Dragon-blood/soul. That I can no longer deny.

But Ivory...

It's as if she was 'made' of magica. Unstable magica at that. I know, I know: I have written of this before, but it still troubles me. How can she, a Lilmothiit, wield such a tremendously powerful and unstable amount of magica? And why only Frost related? Every battle we fought in, she would leave our foes lifeless statues, frozen inside out. Not to mention leaving me with several new scars of Frost-burn. Thank Akatosh for my enchanted cloak...

What concerns me most of all is that she would barely remember any of it afterwards. As if she's no longer herself when she taps into her powers. Above all of my fears, I fear that she would one day lose herself entirely, and that is something my heart cannot bear...

The second thing that came to my idle mind was... everything else, actually.

What are we doing here? What am I doing here? In Skyrim? In Tamriel? Alive I have been for hundreds of years (Ivory even longer), and yet the first thing I can remember is waking up in a tiny prison cell.

Then meeting the Emperor and the Oblivion crisis, blah-blah-blah...

But beyond that... Nothing. Who was I? Where did I come from? Am I just some nobody that was in the wrong place at the right time with an extraordinary heritage, or am I truly a son of Akatosh? This... Dragonborn? The powers fit, and I've always felt drawn to old "Father Akatosh", and he has greatly rewarded my faith in him, but... really? It all just seem too... convenient at times. I do, however, have other theories. Though they are... troubling at best.

Going over the research material I've gathered from the old Lilmothiit ruins back in Black March, I may have stumbled upon something significant. Recently, I've become aware of something called "Maa-Gerra-Sharm Wa'akkier" being mentioned more and more frequently in scriptures and glyphs written closer to the date of their disappearance. Whatever these things were, the texts seem to indicate that they could destroy the enemies of the Lilmothiit with powers they themselves couldn't wield. Translating it's meaning has been rough, but the gist of it seems to be "Sharing of Soul and Mind," and "Changed/Transformed". Call it an educated guess, but it almost sounds like the Lilmothiit used their soul-magic to create Magica imbued warriors to serve them in battle.

Could Ivory be one of them? Could I be one as well? Abominations of Magic created only for War? A disturbing thought.

Again, this is just a theory, and I might have to explore more of the old ruins to find more proof of~

Heh. Look at me rambling like old M'aiq. Crazy cat... Seems Ivory and I aren't the only one's who apparently can live forever either..."