Alright, so I'm in need of some cash for a few things that came up, and I'm looking to crank out a few $15-20 short pieces to help me along my way. Anybody who has gotten one from me before knows I'm reliable on quality, and I tend to go over the 1500-2000 word limit I put on these things just because I like writing.

SO, I'm opening up three public slots. No payment required until I've finished a piece.

Here's the special bit, though: Pick a kink you're interested in (within reason; my "No" list still stands) and I'll create a catered partner character for you. I have hundreds of characters already, waiting for adventure, but if you request that I make an all-original character for your shorty, I will do so.

So, I'm opening the slots. Let me know below if you're interested. When you do, just note me a character, refs or a description, personality info and a kink you'd like to see brought into play. Or you could just tell me if they're straight, gay, or bi and let me run from there.

Slot 1:  thecosmimcwolf33 / DONE.

Slot 2:  Sinister / DONE

Slot 3:  Ninjacharles / In progress

Thanks, and if you're not interest would you mind signal boosting? Thank you!

Edit: Well, I've already got three takers. Thanks!

I've got about $25 to burn in my paypal from a finished commission and this whole situation has me fucked up. If any artists I know want to talk to me about some art for that price, note me and we'll talk. I'm not even that picky; pitch me an idea. If it's smutty, sappy, clean, doesn't matter. Just...Look through my characters, pick something and throw me an idea. I don't even fucking know anymore.

This isn't a joke, either. If you read these and you know me at all, and want $25 for a fast turnaround piece of art, let me know now. I'm too pissed to think too much through, but maybe it'll cheer me up.

Seriously. Every fucking one of you pieces of shit that didn't vote, that chose to vote third party instead of trying to fend off the orange hobgoblin who won, that chose not to vote as a form of "protest", just fuck you. I am so furious, so goddamn mad...And more than that, I'm goddamn disappointed.

To put it very simply: Every single person who voted Trump is responsible for putting a ranting, fascist demagogue into a position of power is responsible for this. Every one of you fucking simpletons who did a write-in for Harambe is responsible for whatever comes in the next four years.

I hate you. I hate every one of you responsible for this. Fuck losing followers, fuck your opinions and fuck this planet. I don't even want to be on it anymore.

If anyone needs me, I'll be in my Angry Dome.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fiCZP09F6FQ

Well folks, I hate to say it but it seems Maeara's going to be on a hiatus of unknown length. After moving to my new computer I can honestly say that it's going to be a fucking nightmare to reinstall all of the mods, especially considering I don't even KNOW what some of them are or were at this point. Maybe she'll come back, maybe she won't. I do know that I hate that this happened, though. Sorry to disappoint.

Alright, folks! I know it's not Halloween, but I've been doing Flash Sales. Basic concept: Base price is $15-20 for 1500-2000 words, but I almost ALWAYS go over that limit and only ask for tips to make up any difference in length. An example is a Flash Sale piece that ended up being over 7K words. Any overage is purely based on what you'd like to pay at that point. Any of my regulars know how I work; very laid back.

SO, I'm doing another Flash Sale here, based on my Cumbrella Project characters. You give me a character you'd like to see put through their paces in a story, pick a creature already created OR suggest a B.O.W. to base a character on, give me ONE kink, and I'll go for it. No pay until work is delivered, per usual. Just let me know if you're interested.

Well, my new computer is shot. Motherboard is bad from the get go, so I had to return it for credit and get another one. Not bothering to set it up tonight because fuck me, it's Halloween and I'm watching some horror movies.

Happy Halloween, and I hope you all do well. Expect me to be back soon-ish, with new content to share. Much love to you all, and I'm sorry I've been unable to do another recording. Maybe a post-Halloween one, if people are still interested? I mean, I don't even think anyone was really interested to begin with, but it's more for my fun than anything else.

Take care, everybody. Don't get too spooked :D

Got a new computer (yaaay) which has now freaked out in the first day, crashed, refused to start and has had to be wiped to factory specs (boooo). So I don't know how reliably I'll be around for a while, but...You know. I'll try?

I'm looking to do a 1500 to 2000 word piece, $15 to $20. It'll feature one of three creatures: Shadow Elemental Goo Hermaphrodite, Kinky Zombie or Playful Ghost. Payment upon completion.

You pick one kink/orifice you'd like handled (or that you'd like to handle, depending), give me a character and some basics about their personality, etc., things that you aren't into, etc. and I'll go from there. Simple, quick, hopefully painless. I'm partially doing this out of need for cash, partially doing this to try and help me break out of my writer's block. No payment until the piece is done, as stated.

Another one, this time of an entirely original piece of mine, featuring one of my more esoteric and unusual canon concepts.

https://archive.org/details/ThePrice

Well, here's my third reading for the season: Abraham Merritt's The People Of The Pit, one of my personal favorites. This is a long one, so I hope you have some time. Enjoy!

https://archive.org/details/ThePeopleOfThePit

This time we'll be looking at an original short form piece of my own this time. Hopefully folks will enjoy my work as much as they do Lovecraft being recited.

https://archive.org/details/Alone_20161022

https://archive.org/details/Pickman

By all means, share it with your friends. Anyone you think might enjoy it, I'd be happy to have them give it a listen. Thank you much for all of your time and consideration, and happy Halloween.

More to come.

SO, since I can't continue Maeara's Journal for the time being, I guess I'm going to have to find something else to do. I had the idea of doing some holiday-themed readings of appropriately spoopy works, but I've never done any kind of voice recording before. Consider it a personal experiment. My problem is, I don't know how to go about starting that. I need a good, or at least reliable, free voice recording software for starters. I hear that the one built into Windows 10 is a trainwreck and should be avoided, so I'm going to do just that. Any particular advice?

So, looking into things, the most likely culprit still seems to be the Windows update. On top of that, I've been experiencing physical technical issues with my computer for quite some time. Problem is, it's of the sort that literally anything could be the cause. My options for the cause of my woes: A bad PSU, bad RAM, a bad HD, bad Motherboard, etc., etc...

So basically I'm going to need a new computer. An entirely new one, at that, and that's out of the question as is. So...I don't know what I'm going to do. This is sort of a downward spiral. I can't write without a reliable computer, and I can't make money if I can't write, but I can't get a computer without fucking writing to make money, so on and so forth.

It's all so depressing and disheartening. I can't even play games to unwind because (big surprise, here) that's one of the things that crashes my computer. I listen to music and play games together, and if I try to run streaming video of any variety WHILE gaming, it will lock up my system and crash, then take more than half an hour to fix. I'm scared it's just going to die at some point.

I'm working on getting my stuff backed up, but God help me, I don't know what to do about it at this point.

Wish me luck, i guess?

Well, this figures. It seems I've fallen victim to Windows 10 being...Well, Windows 10. The latest update has evidently corrupted something in my computer to the degree that I am no longer allowed access to my own Windows account.

This means, if I have to explain at all, that I cannot access any of my saved work, my art collection, my games, etc. Nothing. I am literally unable to do anything at this time. So until further notice, any work and the Skyrim journal are on hiatus.

I am deeply upset and stressed out by this, and just trying to fix what I can through a secondary Dummy account I've made.

Alright folks, time for some more fan participation here. Maeara's adventure has been going interestingly, to say the least. Now it's time for you guys to help out a bit and make some choices.

So, here we go!

Do we continue doing normal quests, leveling and just roaming the wilderness?
Do we pursue a MAJOR DLC, like Dawnguard or Dragonborn?
Do we start into some more perverted territory, finding people and animals to have fun with? If so, what sort of beast would you want Maeara to have a frisky run-in with?
Or do we head to one of the new modded World Spaces, like the Khajiit homelands, or perhaps Falskaar?

Let me know what you guys think. Not enough smut so far? Or are you not following along for that? Is anyone even following this? I guess I'll find out.

After claiming the weapons of Holfir Giant-Slayer, I found myself in a predicament. I had to search for the knowledge of where to find his Giant nemesis, and in doing so I had to delve deep into legendry and mythology, for tales of Barlok'Gosh go back as far as three centuries.

The legends surrounding Barlok'Gosh are as diverse as they are unhelpful. Some people claim he was only a normal Giant before he became the favored of one of the Daedra. Other legends claim he grew so enormous by devouring the flesh of lesser Giants, and that he was immortal like the Dragons of legend. All that anyone could really be sure of was that he was savage, powerful and titanic in size. And of course that he was SOMEWHERE out there in Skyrim.

It took a bit of digging, searching and questioning, but finally I got enough information to help me piece together a rough map of sightings. Everything came to a head between Falkreath and Markarth, in a mountainous stretch just beyond the mouth of an old Nord trade road to Hammerfell known as Bodean's Pass. I'd never heard of the place, but that is mostly because the Hammerfell entrance to the old passage had collapsed decades ago, long before my time.

Finding it was easy enough, although getting there was a chore once I knew where to go. Scrabbling over rocks and hills, dodging bands of Forsworn and vicious Cave Bears as I made my way to the old stone staircase leading to the partially obscured entrance. What I found awaiting me was a shock, though.

Redguard Smugglers had set up a series of firetraps in the tunnel, and had been using it to transport gold, furs and stolen goods back and forth from Hammerfell to Skyrim for who knows how long. Long enough that they were well established in the tunnel, and had evidently tamed some giant spiders to act as guard dogs.

Nothing a few judicious applications of fire-bottles and arrows couldn't fix, and in due time I had eliminated the last of the Smugglers. All that left was the passageway into Bodean's Pass itself, a river valley running through the craggy landscape between the two kingdoms. I have to admit, the Redguards had done a fine job clearing the passage so they could smuggle their wares, but I don't think they had anticipated it being closed anew by a Giant that had claimed the valley for a home.

To say that my first sighting of Barlok'Gosh was shocking would be an understatement. He was gargantuan; twice the size of any Giant I'd ever heard tell of before. Eyes that glowed an eerie, cold blue, worn skin like the hide of a great mammoth sans the fur, and a club made from what must have been one of the few Valenwood trees that had ever grown in Skyrim, a boulder mounted to the haft and bound in place with long strips of hide. He was looming over a freshly killed Orc, a heroic figure in plate armor that had no doubt been a guard for the smugglers...As had the number of other dead, scattered Orc mercenary corpses all around the stone bridge crossing the river at the heart of the valley.

I came into the valley in the rain and wind, lightning illuminating the monster in stark relief. Instinct drove me, told me to flee and hide. But I had made it far enough to see Holfir Giant-Slayer's nemesis, and the bow in my grip felt...Right. I nocked an arrow and let fly, piercing the creature's neck on the right side, earning a bellow and a sweeping swing of that enormous club. I managed to duck it as the lumbering beast took one huge step and brought the club down in an arc, fracturing stone and toppling trees as it crashed into the forested slope at my side.

I ran then, not in cowardice but with purpose. Down to the bridge; I lead him into the open, where I had room to move, where I could circle him and fire. He chased me to the bridge, where I fired again and again. I waited for him to close and then I jumped over the side, tucking and rolling under the bridge itself even as his club came down and moorings shook in the soil.

I took the fight to him, peppering his thighs and groin, firing into his gut. It was a death by degrees, each arrow made to slay giants, each shot placed with precision. He swung and swung, yelling and swearing in whatever language Giants speak, stopping to heave a boulder at the bridge as I scrambled away. I kept him moving, kept him off balance. He had to step into the mud and move over rough terrain, while I was at home moving with speed and agility through the scrub and between the rocks. Size isn't your ally when your foe is smarter and faster.

The battle raged, the beast wearing down with time. It must have been an hour of steady fighting, darkness broken only by flashes of lightning, rolls of thunder mingling with roars and crashes. It was as he almost collapsed the stone bridge with a stomp that I finally got my best shot to end it. He leaned down, dropping his club and reaching for me as I backed down the bridge.

I slotted an arrow into his right eye. He reeled back and wailed, grasping at his face as he stumbled. I dropped the bow and drew the greatsword of Holfir Giant-Slayer from my back, jumping from the bridge and moving around his tramping, thudding feet. His tendons. The sword sang as it sliced through the moist air, sinking into sinew as sturdy as leather armor and sliding through it with shocking ease. It was only the jarring thud of metal on bone that halted the blade, and only a startled scream that bore out the Giant's downfall.

He tumbled then, falling onto the bridge. He crashed into his head first, knocking a great chunk of stone from it and bludgeoning himself into a stupor. He rolled onto his back in the river, groaning, bloodied and worn. He had dislodged the arrow from his eye, the bloody globe rolling toward me. As I watched him there, his breathing shallow, the rain washing his weary face clean, I felt something like pity briefly. He was so old; so ancient. Had he been made to live so long against his will? A cruel trick by the Daedra, like my Lycanthropy?

It mattered not. He was dying, and I was alive. I knew what I had to do. There was no hesitation, no time to think about what was happening. I brought the blade back and down in a single swift stroke, right into brow, through flesh and bone. A swift stroke into the brain, faster than the death that awaited as he bled to death in the chill waters of the mountain pass.

The Giant, the legend, Barlok'Gosh, was no more. The river ran red, and my muscles screamed in exhaustion. The battle had left me shaken, but exhilarated. I had done it. I had felled the Giant, and fulfilled Holfir Giant-Slayer's oath to destroy the monster.

The rewards were minimal, of course. It had been a request, not a bounty, so there was no pay coming. I found the smuggler caravan's smashed cart, and salvaged some gems and gold from it, and I found the coin purses from the Orc mercenaries. Barlok'Gosh had quite a midden of dead warriors to sift through as well, most of them mummified due to the mountain cold. I came away with more gold than I had to begin with, and I intend to keep the weapons of Holfir Giant-Slayer. His armor and sword will find places of honor, displayed in my home in his memory...As will the skull of Barlok'Gosh, which I will have collected by mercenaries of my own hiring and carted to my home.

My true payment is that this will contribute to my legend. This will help to cement my identity as a hero. I didn't think I'd ever want that, that I'd ever aspire to heroism, but...You know what?

It suits me.

After returning home and going over the assorted messages and missives that had been delivered in my absence, one stood out: A request by one of the Companions of Whiterun that I help to restore the honor of one of their felled companions, Holfir Giant-Slayer. It seems he was felled before he could accomplish his one great quest, which was to find and kill the most dangerous Giant that Skyrim had ever known, a legendary beast by the name of Barlok'Gosh.

I was at first leery of the concept of attempting such a hunt, but something struck me. A giant...I'd never actually seen one, myself. Read about them, heard stories, and I know for a fact that they dwell in the foothills near Whiterun in in the far, cold reaches of Skyrim in modest camps, but somehow I had never seen one. And the idea of seeing the largest of them all, let alone felling it...Well, if I want to really make a name for myself and become something of a legend, I can think of worse ways to go about it.

The first requirement was that I travel to a stone monument erected on an island in the far north-west of Skyrim's coastline and retrieve the armor and weapons of the slain hero. The armor is a bit much for me; I dislike plate and it would be too heavy for me to move easily in. The weapons, though...They were worth the travel. A greatsword, not my preference, but a beautiful work of smithing in and of itself. But the bow... The Giant's Downfall, a piece of aged but beautiful craftsmanship, accompanied by a set of special arrows. Nordic made, enchanted to be the bane of Giants...Those I can use. Those I will use.

Once I had paid my respects and taken the arms and armor I settled in for the night to camp, and to plan my next move. Arming oneself to deal with a Giant is one thing. Actually FINDING the beast? That's another story entirely, and I don't have any leads.

I'll have to ask around. I'm sure someone will have seen the largest Giant ever known.

For four nights I turned, reveling in the habits and desires of the beastly form that I find myself afflicted by. I intended to return home, but the pull of the moon threatened at every turn to make me into a monster again. I retreated to the abandoned bandit camp along the coast, which I had found on my trip to Dawnstar. Only with the passing of the twin full moons did I feel myself freed to return to my normal life, and even then I retreated to Dawnstar first.

I spoke to Erandur about unusual conditions, asking about Lycanthropy, Vampirism and even Corprus. I wanted to cover my tracks, hide the truth as best I could, but I think he suspected. He couldn't tell me one way or another how to possibly cure the condition, although he did suggest trying at the Mage College, or asking around with the intellectuals in Solitude. Disheartening, but better than no answer at all.

I find myself feeling strangely calm after all was said and done. The killings have passed, and though I know that I couldn't control myself at the time I feel that my control and memories have strengthened when in the Wolf form. I recall more, and had more say in what I did and where I went. Only a handful of bandits ended up suffering in my later transformations, and in the end I feel that I managed to keep the beast in check.

This is something I have to live with for now, until I can find a proper solution. At the very least I can learn to make it work for me rather than against me. Evidently feeding as the Wolf strengthens me, gives me renewed vigor and hardiness. It also seems to heal any injuries I may have sustained, as a run in with a Frosbite Spider ended with a nasty bite which was healed after the full moon transformation on the third night.

I also find another odd benefit: Wolves no longer approach me with hostility. In fact, an entire pack of them seemed drawn to me, staying close by while I rested. When I awoke one of them, a big brute of a male, had nestled down next to the fire and stayed while the rest of the pack had moved on. I find that Meeko, upon my return home, also seems completely fine with me. I had feared my dear pup would turn on me, but not only does he seem calm as ever, but he and the wolf seem to be fast friends.

At least I don't have to deal with this problem alone...I'll continue my investigation in how to purify myself of this curse soon. For now, I need to rest and gather my wits. My return was greeted by my Steward, with an absolute ream of scrolls requesting aid from "The Hero of Morthal."

I'm going to be busy.

I do not understand this. I do not know how this has happened, or why, but something is dreadfully wrong. The last thing I clearly remember of last night was...Sleep. Resting, beneath the trees on the ridge overlooking the Silent Moons Camp. The sound of the Imperial Scouts with their horses nearby. And then moon rise... I awoke with a start. Something didn't feel right. My head swam, my chest tightened...

The moon seemed to turn the color of blood, and then...Nothing.

I blacked out, but I still have...Flashes.

Blood on snow. Claws and fangs, unfamiliar and yet...My own.

The smell of fear, acrid and sweet.

And howling; screaming. Fury and animal fervor.

I somehow know that there is no reason to enter the Silent Moons encampment anymore. I feel it in my gut, in my soul. All I'll find there is death.


My stomach turns. The memories...These are no hallucinations, no dreams. No vivid delusion brought to life by a troubled sleep. The taste of hot blood and wet flesh, the feel of rending muscle under razor sharp claws...


I remember wind rushing past, the feeling of the ground falling away as I pounced and flew through the wilderness. The sound of heartbeats, the smell of the wild and the rush of excitement as cold snow crunched under strong...Paws?



I awoke, cold and naked, soaked to the bone in a field not far from Whiterun. I was covered in blood and filth, and as I came to my senses a roll of thunder and a flash of lightning revealed that I had left a trail of gore in my wake. I had fallen in it, slept in it...But none of it was mine.

I washed away what I could in a nearby stream, watching for pursuit, for attack. No weapons, no armor...Just an Argonian, alone in the storm. Yet I somehow knew even if I was attacked, I was able to defend myself. My mind reeled, but I understood on an instinctive level what I have become. A Werewolf. Somehow...That mad woman? The one who bit me, perhaps? Or maybe a cruel prank for defying Vaermina...But no, Hircine is the Daedra responsible for such curses.

I returned to my campsite from the night before...Found my things. Scattered, discarded. Peeled off in a frenzy. And there, nearby...The Imperials. A trail of death, their mangled bodies strewn about the snowy fields and rocky crevices.

I followed the trail even further. Stumbled across a Stormcloak Camp, probably the one the Imperial Scouting Party had been watching for the last few days...Or what was left of them. They fared no better than the Imperials. Worse, in fact. I didn't try to count the bodies.

I just...I went home. I need rest. I need to think, to plan. I have to speak to Mages, healers. Perhaps Erandur can help me? Someone has to know what I can do...The full moon has passed, but I can still feel the pull of it in my blood. What have I become, and what's more, what am I to do about it?

Another contract awaited my return to Windstad Manor, this time a surprisingly distant request for help from the Jarl of Whiterun. I had been to Whiterun once or twice before, when I was younger, but hadn't made the journey since my adventure had begun. Evidently there were bandits raiding trade caravans and causing trouble out of an old ruined tomb going by the name of Silent Moons Camp. More than that, they had evidently taken to forging unique blades using an ancient Lunar Forge, giving them steel that burned in the moonlight. The reward was a fair bit of coin, and an in with the Jarl's court...It sounded intriguing, so here I am, camped out just north of their hideaway. It's not too bad of a spot, up in the frosty crags and snowy wilderness overlooking the Hold below. I was surprised to find myself sharing territory, to a degree, with a small contingent of Imperials; a scouting band, if I had to guess. So far we've given each other a wide margin, and I'd prefer to keep it that way.

As it stands, I've counted five bandits below that I can see, and from the sound of it at least two more working the Lunar Forge. I know from the missive left at my home that their numbers may be as great as fifteen...Not too many to handle, if I play my cards right. The real trick will be to wait for nightfall and make the most of the advantage provided by the reduced visibility. It's to be a full moon, though. That might make it difficult to sneak too close to them before having to engage, but it will still provide a measure of cover until things go loud.

I'll douse my fire soon and wait for the sun to finish slipping behind the mountains. I hear the Imperial Scouts nearby, speaking to each other and discussing their plans. It seems they're on their way to Solitude, having been on a sojourn to see what the Stormcloak presence near Whiterun was like. I'll not take sides in their fight if I can help it, but at least I can respect the Imperials sometimes. Organized, at the very least.

The hour grows late, though. I'll put the journal away and let the evening come. A little sleep beneath the pines won't do me any harm, and once the moons are rising I can begin the hunt.

I can say without a shadow of a doubt that what I just experienced was one of the most unusual and unsettling events of my life. Taking the short journey up the mountain to Nightcaller Temple with Erandur was hardly a problem. We ran into a pair of wolves, but oddly they didn't seem aggressive. They just moved aside and let us pass. I should have known the day was going to be odd when that happened.

Once we arrived at the temple Erandur revealed that he had once been a priest of Vaermina, and that the temple had been placed under the sway of a sleep-inducing mystical fog, or miasma, that had knocked out not only the resident priests but also a horde of Orc raiders that had barged in. THAT was why the temple had been abandoned, and why a grotesque artifact, a corrupted skull staff of sorts, had been left behind. It was as good as alive, and it had been feeding on dreams and memories within those cold, slumbering walls for decades. Only recently had it grown strong enough to lash out at the town below, as well as at the sleeping minds within.

It was all a bit much to take in, but I did my best to roll with the circumstances as it were. Upon entering the abandoned edifice Erandur opened a hidden passage in the back wall of the temple, leading deep within. We found slumbering Orcs and priests alike, but as we neared they awakened. They were dazed, confused. It turns out they were also insane, no doubt from being held in stasis by the miasma for decades and having their minds eaten away by endless nightmares. Putting them down was a mercy, one which I administered deftly and quickly with an arrow a piece. I decided that I would be cautious and slot an arrow into the head of every body we saw as we moved on. Erandur didn't speak, but I sensed that he accepted this as a necessity. He had become a Priest of Mara, and forgiveness would be granted for the needs of the many in Dawnstar below.

And so we worked our way through the temple, with Erandur guiding me one chamber at a time, my bow returning mad men and women to their eternal slumbers with ease. Once or twice the hearty and strong Orcs rose, and they wouldn't die with a single arrow. One of them nearly took my head off with an iron-fitted battle staff, in fact. Only a mystical bolt of lightning from Erandur stopped him in his tracks, fusing his armor and leathers into his skin as he cooked. A gruesome death, but better than the fate of living insane and screaming, lashing out at the world.

I helped Erandur find a book, which spoke of a ritual to enter the dreams and memories of another. Using that book we were able to identify a draught, Vaermina's Torpor, which would allow someone to follow through with the ritual, which would allow us access to the temple sanctum within. I, of course, was volunteered to drink the potion. It was easily the strangest sensation I've ever felt. My skin tingled, my eyes floated, the world grew vivid and dim all at once, and I found myself living in the skin of another person briefly. A Priest of Vaermina, during the original Orc raid. I didn't have the time to think, or the ability to question matters. I ran, in the memories of someone else, and found myself activating the miasma. The fog was released, and everyone fell into a deep sleep.

More than that, I found that I had somehow passed through solid matter when I returned to my own body. I had passed a portal, a mystical barrier that had kept us from progressing, and found that I could disarm it from within. With that done Erandur and I moved deeper into the temple. We found ourselves confronted by the two remaining priests, both of whom seeming more coherent and sane than the others. They lashed out at Erandur, and revealed that he had once been the very man whose memories I had walked through.

Before I knew what was going on there were three figures throwing arcs of energy and swinging bludgeons. No room for my bow, it seemed, so I swapped to a throwing axe. I managed to nail one of the priests in the side, putting him on his knees long enough to run up and finish the job. Erandur managed to incapacitate the other mage long enough for me to throw another axe. A bit of steel between the eyes seems remarkably useful for ending a threat, to be honest.

When all was done, it was all up to Erandur to bring down the barrier around the cursed skull staff and destroy it. As he set to casting his spell, a voice crawled into my mind and whispered. A female voice, cloying and sweet with false words, warning me that Erandur would turn on me and use the staff for evil. It demanded that I kill him. I refused, and in the end the blasted item was turned to naught but dust and fragments.

For my assistance Erandur pledged his loyalties, to aid me in my future times of need. An ally is always a good thing to make. Perhaps I'll take him up on his offer of aid in the future, but for now, as I write this, I simply want a peaceful night of sleep. I sit on the docks of Dawnstar, watching the moons rise, and I feel myself...Ill at ease, despite my best efforts. I haven't slept well for days; it's difficult to feel truly rested. And something about the moons gnaws at me, as if there's some secret I haven't yet glimpsed under their light...

All this talk of dreams and nightmares has me in a strange mood, though. A bit of mead, a good meal and a night in a warm bed, then I can return home and see where my next journey takes me.

Dawnstar. I arrived sometime after noon today, having left my home earlier in the morning with a simple lunch packed away and my normal travel kit. I left my Steward and guard, Benor, to watch the homestead while I opted to map my own route to the coastal city. It wasn't to be hard, after all; a straight line down the coast. Easy enough, or at least it should have been. Instead, I came across a quartet of bandits camping in the shadow of a cliff, evidently in the midst of drying their rain soaked cloaks next to a fire.

I made it clear I wanted no trouble and attempted to skirt around them, but the Elf with them nocked an arrow and barely missed me. There was no choice in the matter, then. Luckily I had my shield and axe on hand, and was able to deflect the next arrow. The bandits closed the gap quickly, but the first one to get within range found himself dead with an axe in his chest. You see, I've taken to carrying a set of sturdy steel throwing axes on me at all times, as well as my battle axe. His compatriots seemed taken aback, but only long enough for another blade to sail their way and slice into the thigh of their Mage.

He died quickly, a swing of my hand axe finishing the job. This left the archer and a hammer-wielder. The archer I kept between the hammer-wielder and I, limiting his usefulness. He did fire, but only ended up tinking an arrow off of his associate's thick armor. Unfortunately for the hammer-wielder, he had opted for armor without a gorget. An axe to the throat resolved the dispute with him, and left me alone to deal with the archer.

He broke and ran then, and I could have let him go...But not within a mile of my home. One last axe, right to the base of the spine, thrown hard and steady. My aim was true, and his run was over. No sense in letting goods go to waste, I sorted through their belongings. Gold, potions, and a lovely new hand axe. Silvered steel, Nordic in make. Can't say I regret finding an upgrade in the least. I'll send Benor to collect the rest of their things when I finish my business in Dawnstar.

As it stands, once I arrived in town I made my way to the local inn. Everyone in the city seemed...Tired. Worn down. Exhausted, even. More than that they readily complained of dreadful nightmares; the sort of dreams that absolutely drive one to the brink. Everyone thought it was some curse, and the more I dug into the facts, the more likely it seemed that was the very case. In particular there was a mage named Erandur who claimed to know the cause of everything: That something had gone dreadfully wrong at a nearby tower, Nightcaller Temple, and had actually given free reign to the Daedric Prince Vaermina, who was consuming the dreams of the residents and leaving only nightmares behind.

I scoffed at first; I knew of the work of Daedra and Aedra, but I had never really considered such a thing to happen so openly. At least, not since the Oblivion Crisis of old, and even then who knows how much of that was true? But then I toured the town, spoke to the other residents in detail, and finally settled down for the night to rest at the Inn.

The dreams...By the Divines, the dreams were horrendous. It was like nothing I had ever experienced. All of it, red and wet, a dream of claws and fangs, of glowing eyes and madness in the snow. I don't recall details; only waking up shaking and in a panic. If I could sweat, I think I would have been drenched.

Tomorrow I go with Erandur to Nightcaller Temple. Tomorrow I find out what it means to confront a God, for no one should have to suffer such dreams as these...

After a couple of days of cleaning, organizing and proper decorating under my belt, I decided to take something of a wander and see what exactly my holdings include. Of course there's the house itself, including an entry hall and the main hall. There's my stable, my animal pen, my garden. All nice. A fish farm, which I'll find some use for, smithing and tanning goods as well, which will also be truly helpful...And a lot of empty land.

The view of the ice-strewn bay and looming Solitude in the distance is breathtaking, and if not for the fact that I'd been attacked by some crazy woman a couple of days ago I would have said it was quite peaceful. The land northward from my new home seems to be mostly empty beach and scrub, though. I suppose I can have a look and see what there is to find there, at least. Who knows? Maybe I'll surprise myself.

___________

Well, THAT was a shocking development! I found out that there are two full shipwrecks right off the coast to the North, and if I look far to the east, assuming the weather is clear, I can spot Dawnstar! I've never been to Dawnstar, but I've heard of it. A cold, mining-heavy town with a deep trough port that allows larger ships ease of access. Not exactly a strategic stronghold, but I understand the Jarl there is a Stormcloak through and through...The citizens, not so much.

I feel somehow compelled to wander that way and see what's what. Maybe there are new adventures to be found? Or maybe just a bit of business I can enjoy. I'm finding trading for goods for my new home to be quite fun, actually. Plus, I've found that I've taken a liking to playing my Lute, and I'm improving. Maybe I could play the Bard and stop by the Dawnstar inn for a spell, play a few songs and have a few drinks? It never hurts to make connections!

Now if only the damned bite on my arm would stop smarting so much. It itches so, especially at night for some reason.

I can't believe it. After all the work I've put into my new home, and all the time I've put into making it nice, I leave this evening to make my way to Morthal for a bit of food and drink at the Inn and what happens? I find myself accosted on my front lawn by what I can only describe as a gibbering lunatic! This woman, pale and patchy-haired, wild eyed and filthy, scrambled out of the wilderness and came running at me before I could even try to reach for my bow!

She managed to lunge at me and grab hold, foaming and shrieking nonsense. I don't know what she was yelling as most of it wasn't even what I would call words. What I DO know is that she bit me! The maniac bit me on the upper arm, actually managed to get through my armor and into flesh. I've never known anything short of a wolf to bite through leather AND Argonian scales, but she managed it somehow.

I fell back on instinct and fumbled for my ax, heaving it up into her jaw and forcing her off. I heard the bone break, but she didn't even seem to notice. She just laughed, gurgled and scrabbled away into the dark. There was a trail of blood leading off to the distant hills, but nothing more of her since then. I'll be hiring guards soon, I think. This nonsense is unacceptable. Maybe Benor is looking for good, paying work? He's strong and hearty, and I doubt he'd much mind a free bed and some land to tend.

Either way, I've bandaged the wound and cleaned it thoroughly. Used what I know of alchemy to brew up a potion to cleanse the bite, and I should be just fine. I guess it's true what they say; the fuller the moon, the crazier some people act. If I see sign of that woman again, I may have to deal with her permanently...