Skyrim Mod:Legendary Dungeons: Nordic Secrets/Lady Thorn's Journal, Vol 1

Book Information Lady Thorn's Journal, Vol 1
Added by	Legendary Dungeons: Nordic Secrets
ID	xx228324
	5		1

Lady Thorn's Journal, Vol 1

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Rada al-Saran's little plans are noble, ideal even. But I did not survive this long bowing to a king who sits in the basement of dwarves plotting dominion. Alchemy has gotten me this far, bargains will get me the rest of the way. The Ideal Masters were hard to contact, but agreeable. Whatever demise the people of Skyrim think I might suffer, should I suffer it, they will be there to assist. The Sea of Spires is not an ideal home, but I've lost and regained my footing from worse positions.

There is so little I could keep on me. Notes, some alchemical materials. But I planned for the worst. I've awoken in the Sea of Spires, the whispers of the Ideal Masters in my head. Am I dead? A ghost? A soul? I'm not certain. But I have my wits about me. That will be enough.

I've lost track of time, I don't understand how. I expected, if not a palace, that at least comfortable quarters but I've been given a hovel in this tower and little more. Periodically things arrive. Mortals, sometimes. Other times, servants of the Ideal Masters. And always the whispering. The endless whispering. This was not part of the bargain.

The whispers are louder sometimes. Before fights, after fights. I did not understand at first, but now... There are numbers, deals, bargains. And wagers. The Sea of Spires is not a sanctuary. It's an arena. A pit for the masters to trade their servants and test them in combat for some sick purpose.

There are some fighters who still have their minds, still capable of speech. A trio of brothers sometimes are my opponents. We are not friends, but there was advice given in the heat of battle. Do well. Impress the Masters, and you are given boons. My chance is in there, no matter how slim.

They promised me. They said that one good fight. One good fight and I'd be given what I need. I was given a broom. And a rug. There is no escape. There is only the combat.