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xiaolongpunch · 6 years ago

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Aeldria: A Skyrim Story

Journal entry number twelve

I decided to attend a lecture that was given today before leaving. It was about restoration and its impact on how good of a school of magic it is. While it is an overlooked school, restoration does have its place as one of the major school of magic. I also talked a bit with the teacher so she could teach me a few restoration tricks. And immediately after I felt more powerful. I can cast restoration spells more easily and my magicka seems to regenerate faster in combat.

(Restoration mastery: cast restoration soells for 50% less magicka, and restoration soells are 0.5% more powerful per level of restoration. Descending light: when you enter combat, regenerate points of magicka equal to half your restoration skill level per second. This effect gradually diminishes over the course of 15 seconds. The regeneration does not stop while casting(restoration for both))

Due to me waking up almost an hour into the afternoon, I arrived in windhelm around the evening. So I decided to simply continue and enjoy skyrim's nature. There wasn't any world ending threats to deal with so I took my time, I decided that I would stop at midnight, wether or not I had reached riften by then or not.

The reach of skyrim is probably my favourite of the holds, the weather is nice and warm, it reminds me of Morrowingmd at times, and the nature around the mountains is breathtaking. Maybe I'll try to see what it takes to get a house here.

I reached riften about two hours before midnight, the guards tried to tax me to enter the city but I quickly saw their scam and they let me go inside without problem. Someone stopped me after entering the city, they noticed my rather unusual gem and told me i should join the thieves guild to find its worth, im not much of a thief, ill just use it as a decoration really.

I entered the inn, and a priest of Mara was rambling about people's dark emotions and what not. He told me I could get married since Mara is the godess of love . while I do not accept the Aedra, perhaps one day i will find true love, he gave an amulet of mara so I can show my interest in someone. I wont wear it now, as to not draw the unwanted eye, I will wear it when the times comes. The innkeeper also told me I would find this face changer in the sewers, and so that is what my goal for tomorrow will be.

I woke up rather early. All because I wanted to meet this face changer before travelling down to meet the dawnguard. The sewers, as I expected were full of bandits whom fell to my magic like flies.

I found the face changer in a underground bar called the ragged flagoon. It was costly but I finally mamanged to change, well everything about me, I look like a totally new person now! Now it was time to head down to fort dawnguard, luckily it wasnt far from riften, so I was able to get there early afternoon. The weather however was horid, it was pouring rain ever since I left the city.

However, when I saw vigilants of stendarr in the halls of the fort, I felt anger rising through me, I kept my anger at bay, I was easily outnumbered and I left as soon as they told me to investigate dimhollow crypt. I will try to see if I can join these vampires, only to kill these bastards of Deadra hunters.

Normally I write these entries every night, but I wanted to go from fort dawnguard to dimhollow crypt without stopping, and so I did. It was a place near dawnstar, so it took a while to get there, in fact, I arrived the next morning after a night of riding, luckily I did manage to find some sleep on the main roads on my horse. However It wasnt good sleep, so I build my tent and a fire outside the crypt, and rested for a few hours before going in, around until mid afternoon. At least thats what I thought, I overslept until early night, it didn't matter, I had sleep, thats what counted.

The vampires were weak but I did contract their 'disease' from one of them, something I dont intend to cure. I activated some sort of tomb puzzle with my blood, well not willingly, there was a button and when I pressed it, a spike went through right my hand and activated the puzzle.

And what I unlocked, what I unlocked truly took my breath away. I..I already knew I didnt want to join the vigilants of stendarr and the dawnguard but after freeing this beautiful woman out, I definitely knew I wanted to join her. Her name is Serena, she needs me to bring her to her family home near solitude, and that is what I intend to do. I never thought I would say this but, I think I might have fallen for a human, an imperial of all things.

But she is quite older then I, when I asked her how long she had been trapped, she was shocked to hear Cyrodiil was seat of an empire, meaning she is from beyond four eras ago, before the rise of men in Tamriel. I didnt expect a vampire to be young but this definitely surprised me.

And while leaving the crypt, I found out she is a mage like me, already have things in common it seems. She proposed that we camp until sunrise, she is hungry so I shared some of my food with her while talking of our lives, to at least get to know each other. I can tell in her voice its hard for her to open up to me, maybe something happened to her in her life that made her untrusting of others.

We made it to castle Volkithar by mid afternoon. The reunion between Serana and her father was..awkward to say the least, I can see why she told me to keep quiet and let her lead the way onc ein the castle. Lord Harkon 'rewarded' me of saving his daughter by making me a vampire, of course this is what I wanted, but I despise how he treated her like an object.

He explained to me the powers while being in lord vampire form. He then gave me the first ask as a vampire. I need to fill a chalice with from a warerfall of some sort. I accepted the quest. But I decided to set up camp as soon as I went ashore once more. The den is near riften, and it is getting late. I will try to get to the den tomorrow, I will wake up early for this effect.

Aeldria, 1st, 2nd, 3rd and 4th of hearthfire, 4th era, 201

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janiklandre-blog · 8 years ago

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Sunday, March 5, 2017

9:25 a.m. very cold but sunny a lonely Sunday morning - somewhere I read about the Sunday blues - earlier I have also written about all the people going to church - obviously a way to combat the Sunday blues. I tried - but rarely found services inspiring. For a while Paco and I attended the 6th Avenue Methodist Church in Brooklyn. Paco's second wife Elaine - 16 years younger than he, she dumped him and I met him - Elaine before being with Paco had found her way to the church of Finley Schaef - then off Washington Sqare to the West, Finley had been the first minister to speak out against the Vietnam war from the pulpit. His church was called the peace church - a group my friend Ari Salant was part of, Resist, met there and I went with him, Grace Paley was there - and days before I met Paco I had gone there with Robert Goldscheider and my sons - our sons - to see the San Francisco Mime Troupe performing at the church. My son later tried joining them in San Francisco, alas they said something to the effect that too many Jewish boys from New York were coming (our Jewish name does make us Jewish - there is my Jewish grandfather and Robert's Jewish father - Robert later with his third wife Janet joined a synagogue - my lose affiliations have been Christian, my sons never sought any, as far as I know.

Finley's church was a lively place - but then Finley became involved with the youthful assistant Nancy, his wife with the youth minister - Finley and Nancy a pair to this day - the liaison of his wife did not hold long - still the Methodist church too a dim view, Finley list his church (now condos) - worked in a bar for a year - then made apologies and was assigned the church in Brooklyn - this was around 1973 and Park Slope still a waste land where we could have bought a house for peanuts and I wish we had. While there, the area became gentrified and by the time Finley retired - I visited him and Nancy in Saugsrties not too long ago - it had become a posh neighborhood and a posh church.

After Elaine dumped Paco she was banished from his church, but Finley - and many other people - loved Paco, the charming and prolific azrtist. At times we walked to the church from our second avenue loft - over the Brooklyn bridge, up Flatbush avenue - we loved these long walks, took interesting photographs - all gone - we allotted two hours, still often came after the service had begun and Finley would stop and grandly welcome his painter friend and probably call me his wife - there was talk we might get married in a church ceremony, not the civil one - no legal obligations. We never did.

Finley had a strong theatrical flair - his services were theatrical and fun - he was of Catholic Lithuanian background but had converted to the Methodist church. The church was also very political, much attention was paid to events in Latin America and demonstrations were joined.

At the end of the service we always were invited to the Parish House - a select group - to a lavish brunch and often ended up in nearby Prospect Park. These were not lonely Sundays.

However, in the spring of 1988 when Paco decamped to East Hampton without me (he had waited until it got warm) - on mother's day I went alone to the church where I met Patty Lee Parmelee from my German group and the German woman theologian Soelle was visiting and Patty said, we are going to the Parish house - and I said, I am coming and Nancy stopped me and said: I don't think there is enough room.

Wham bam - only as an adjunct to Paco had I been welcome. Interesting. I did write them a letter and for many years stayed out of contact until I ran one day in the street into Finley who embraced me warmly, asked where I had been - he had forgotten all about that mother's day - by then he had retired and they had left New York - and invited me to come to Saugasrtie's - where I also have another friend who gave me warm hospitality. I spent a lovely weekend there - alas I no longer have the get up and go of my younger years - though coming Tuesday I will test if I can still catch the 5:49 to New Haven and find a bus there to take me to Northampton - a trip I enjoyed not that long ago.

Well, C.B. has shelved me - avoiding any conflict - unwilling to sit down for a talk - finding excuses not to see me. Which also does bring once again the highly critical letter of me I received from another friend - reminding me that when I met Robert G. in 1953 he had three close friends - Lenny, Kenny and David - he and Lenny Harvard law, Kenny and David Harvard med (( did write a novel about them in 1964, after Robert an I had attended his 10th reunion of Harvard law - a theatrical weekend) I did send the novel to a major publisher, got it back saying, very interesting, keep working on it - alas I never learned to work on my writing, In any event, Robert proudly told me of the mutual admiration society the four had formed - three were Jewish, Robert had a Jewish father - determined social climbers - aware of the importance of giving each other support and building each other up. Gesine in Germany is one of my women friends building me up - alas not all women are. So often I de experience women tearing each other down - a late glaring example the granddaughter of Dorothy Day at Mary House. I am aware of the envy and jealousy I have encountered - also sometimes disappointing friends - I can think of three - who met me when I was teaching at Columbia, expecting me to rise in the ranks - social climb myself! - disappointed when I sang: Hallelujah, I'm a bum again - hanging out with bums - not climbing socially but declining. Downward mobility they call it. It has not been voluntary poverty - I've now been around the Catholic Worker for more than 20 years - readily give them credit for making me part of their family - for giving me a home away from no home on ,many lonely days - feeding me a lot of food - and yet at this very moment deeply disappointing me.

I have lived many different lives with many different groups of people - for many at the CW there has been great continuity in their lives - Roger going back to the 50's - Jane going back to the 70's - Dorothy Day's granddaughters - Kate who now is promoting her book - they have mountains of photographs, letters, books that go back to the time if my birth - 1933 when inspired by Peter Maurin the first issue of the Catholic Worker was published - a penny a copy - peddled in Union Square - a penny a copy to this day and still in the same format - I've read much of Dorothy's excellent writings - her memoir The Long Loneliness, very openly talking about her early days, her recently published extensive journals, a lot of her other writings - it is a fascinating story - what the synergy of two people created - a vital movement that today encompasses the world - and crfeated great continuity in the lives of many people whom I met and watched - good people.

After C.B. drew me in after 1997 - I helped her in the kitchen - saving my life on the day of the 2000 fire, when I left my apartment minutes before a feroceus fire broke in to go and help her in the kitchen.Having just returned from 10 years in Bolivia she knew few people in New York and cherished me as a friend - until very recently - when at the behest of her dear friend M.H. I too was put on their list of the old and feeble minded - to be tolerated as long asd they don't open their mouth. M.H. who always had followed C.B.to my house and was welcomed by me, found it deeply offending how dared I asking to be included when she was asking out C.B. for a humburger. She insulted me, ran off - and later said - I'll talk to you when you'll be a sweet silent old woman.

I guess when you have grown old and not climbed socially - have status and money - that is to be expected. Having watched the C.W. all these years I have come to realize that while the myth declares everybody equal - there too is rank and status and in earlier writings I often wrote about watching French Christine - the general's daughter of aristocrstic background - fighting tooth and nail to climb in the ranks - and glad for myself not to share that ambition. It caused her much grief - she constantly felt left out - she and I did have a few very pleasant encounters and we did like each other - but most of the time she was seeking out "people of value".

The young people who arrive - their youth much valued - if they so desire, quickly rise - immediately there writing in the paper is valued, they are invited on journeys to South Korea, Russia, Afganistan, Iraq and on and on - they are asked to give talks - I turned 60 in 1992 - I was appreciated washing dishes, chopping carrots and later labeling the newspaper - 80.000 copies not long ago, now reduced to 30.000 - postage too expensive. I quickly realized that bar coding would be cheaper than hand labeling - but a woman who has died, Kathy Temple - asked before her death fow a vow that bar coding would never be used - and so people continue to hand lable - it's a bit like in Russia where three people under communism were given the same job to maintain full employment and make sure everybody had a job..

I did it when I was joined by an interesting French priest - who introduced me to interesting French writers - on the tip of my tongue - an early critic of communism whose chauffeur he had once been, later an inmate in a German concentration camp - he was refused housing at CW when evicted in Brooklyn, was a mad driver and died shoveling his beat up Toyota out of the snow. I acutually was asked to write his obituary - I had much liked him

Then all kind of discord broke out in the mailing room - also I preferred writing this here now blog - I no longer was wanted in the kitchen - and alas, not a published author I ended up in a rather numerous category of poor, lonely old women who are greeted kindly and then ignored.

But the place does abound in interesting characters - Jane always talked of writing a Gothic Novel and I hope she has - weirdness abounds - and you don't have to go to any theater, there is enough theater there. Still - it is time for me to widen my circle - and deal with the fact that I can come as silent observer, but there are so many pwople with a great need to talk and men do assert themselves - and boy, do they talk and talk - but forbid women to talk, not only me. Must accept realities.

And so goes my life. Went for an icy walk yesterday, listenened to the ever crazier news - went out to buy the Sunday Times - quickly escaped a violent encounter between two men - violence in the air. Read the Sunday Times, slept rather well - left house at 7 a.m.. - empty cold streets, tons of litter - Bean not very cosy -loud militsry sounding music - a worker sawing metal - walked - ran into a couple people I knew, stopped at the bakery where I've gotten into talking to the woman from former Yugoslavia, 49, a grandmother, drives daily 40 minutes - does not know where in former Yugoslavia her parents came from, does not talk to her Muslim mother - has some nerve problem and barely sleeps but says she is never tired - a bit worrisome, I find - and here I am, spending my lonely Sunday morning g writing - enjoying writing - it's 11 I'll call a friend

Got her answering machine - I know she's not in church but likely out with her daughter. Yesterday I noticed what looked like an interesting lecture at the Deutshes Haus at NYU - modern German authors - since Goethe Haus on 5th Avenue closed I've lost touch with German writing - still - it still is of interest and so I'll skip the CW brunch.

This may the lst of my longblogs at least for a while - tomorrow at 9 a.m. I am to see the eye doctor about the cataracts - he gave me a long form to fill out and extensive material to read - others have told me about the tedious eye drops - and then I'll see how the day develops - Tuesday early I plan to leave for Massachusetts and let's see how this will go. I will take my ipad and see if my daughter-in-law can give me some lessons - many do write on it at length - and then also, those of you who have followed my writing - is it ten years? - have been witness to my waning and waxing energies - somebody called it being a prisoner to our emotions - I would love to keep going at my present rate - since my energies began waxing once again and M.H. and C.B. have been so totally offended by an "energized Marianne" - how dare you not be sweet and even tempered - I have done a lot of organizing, taken care of many things that my waning energies don't allow me to do - when I feel so blah, oh, so blah - yet my psychiatrist friends have assured me "Marianne "you don"t know what real depression is" - and I am thankful to them - thankful I never listened to the pill happy nurses who tell me - you MUST take pills - and worried about others in my life who may suffer from more serious forms of depression than I do. With me until now it has been a passing condition - when I barely find three words to stay - stop writing this here blog - do feel like, hey can't you pull yourself together - this all started after my mother killed herself in 1982 - days before her 80th birthday - she had had with indignities of old age. Only I wished she had not done it the way she did. A year later I for the first time urgently wished for death myself. It threw me and those close to me into terrible disarray. It took me time to learn about waning and waxing energies - I often have not dealt well with it - allowed my anger to surface - but am working hard at trying to be as palatable as possible to myself and to those around me. Whomever I may have offended, please forgive me - and those of you who recites the Lord's prayer, please listen to the words you utter and act on it. A la prochaine, until next time, as French Chrstine used to say - she is now in Paris, battling cancer, would like to be called on her cell phone which is terribly expensive, has not seen to getting hold of a computer - here she only went to the library where a kind young man helped her. Well - perhaps she does not have the energy. I do miss her. She did understand what others do not.

Last - I wish I had learned to write in word - as things get long - my email mode gets a bit rebellious. Still, thanks again Ken, and now Molly to getting me were I am. Marianne

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