#lokra gra-galash

[wandering-the-snow-throat]

Diary of Lokra Gra-Galash

24th of Last Seed, 4E 201

After arriving in Skyrim with little more than enough Septims to sustain myself, the Spells my unconventional education had allowed me to become practised in, and, reassuringly, the blessing of my mothers, I have finally been able to get ahold of a decent replacement for the diary lost to the canal in my first day on Riften.

I am still unsure whom exactly I intend to read this, besides me, in the long run, but it'll at least ensure I don't forget any important details when I write my letters home to Bravil.

There is, thankfully, not much to summarise of the last few weeks spent preparing to make the journey to Winterhold.

Riften reminded me of Bravil, and I hated it at once. The people are either unpleasant or understandably depressed by the unpleasantness surrounding them. The wolves found prowling in the countryside were cheerier company.

Corruption is worn openly like a virtue in this place as eagerly as the Nibenean Cyrods proudly delight in displaying their intricate tattoos. I made few friends, and after only a day or two I was more than eager to move on.

The only true highlight of my time scrounging for meagre employment there was meeting Inigo.

He is certainly eccentric, but he knows his way around Skyrim better than I, and his good humour has kept me going when my dismal surroundings have otherwise encouraged me to run back to Bravil like the inexperienced young girl I still feel myself to be in many ways. (for some inexplicable reason he even likes the weather).

The reasons for our meeting are convoluted and too great to summarise in the time I have tonight, but I am grateful for his friendship. Without him, I think I'd be dead, and not simply from the weather.

I would honestly rather not dwell too much on the work that has kept me fed, clothed, and supplied so far. I had hoped to find quiet, steady work in Riften, but this insane civil war has forced me to find coin elsewhere.

Bounties, mainly. This land has no shortage of bounties.

I take no pride in admitting that I have ended lives. It is unpleasant enough to cut short the unique potential of a person, but the way my magic ends lives is

unpleasant

I truly hope I will stop remembering the smell so much. Please

We are staying at Ivarstead for now, a cheerier town than the others I have seen. It feels strangely removed from the misery crowding the rest of this land, and the people have been welcoming enough to a foreign Orsimer and a Khajiit wanderer among them. I hope Winterhold feels the same way.

We should reach Windhelm soon once we get started tomorrow. I will hopefully have better news to report then. I hope.

[gladsomevarangian]

Wanted to try out more of a spell-focused character so I made a new Orsimer gal 😳

She's a down on her luck Mage called Lokra Gra-Galash, trying to scrape together enough money to get her to Winterhold to study there.

She is, unfortunately for her own mental health, very good at burning people to death, so she's been running with that mostly

[wandering-the-snow-throat]

Diary of Lokra Gra-Galash

28th of Last Seed, 4E 201

After further hours of travel through this strange Dwemer underworld, Inigo has finally returned my quill now that we have hopefully found shelter.

Some kind of Dwemer home, perhaps - certainly more luxurious than the militarised, cramped barracks I discovered a few hours before.

Unfortunately, we stumbled upon a tragedy within. An alchemist, Sinderion, a fellow traveler who, like me, came from Cyrodiil in search of knowledge. But he chose to come here alone, and paid the price.

I don't know how I'll ever make it up to Inigo, getting me this far, keeping me alive, but I'll find a way. This I swear.

Taking the time to rest and shelter before hopefully leaving this place - for now, at least - I find myself perusing Sinderion's belongings for anything of interest. He certainly doesn't need any of it any more. Inigo found himself several pieces of armor that, if not of Dwemer make were at least forged from the timeless Dwemer metal. I hope it keeps him safe.

I'm honestly impressed to see Sinderion's alchemical stockpiles have weathered the years so well - a testament to his craft.

I'm going to take the time sheltered here to finally test the unfamiliar alchemical ingredients I've stumbled upon in my travels. A well brewed potion can be the difference between life and death, after all, and with the door sealed this place is practically a fortress.

What could go wrong?

(Much of the the page has since been stained with blood)

[wandering-the-snow-throat]

Diary of Lokra Gra-Galash

28th of Last Seed, 4E 201

Today has beffud amaz

I don't know what to say. This is beyond anything I was ready for.

A ruined Inn along the road to Winterhold, only a short walk away from Windhelm, concealed within its cellar an entrance to a strange cave! As an aspiring scholar, I couldn't NOT investigate!

And how my wildest hopes were exceeded.

A vast cavern, littered with ruins of the ancient Dwemer! I had always been fascinated with the remnants of their culture, their impact upon Tamriel and, of course, their mysterious disappearance.

Here lies my chance to do so much - to learn - to contribute - to confirm the theories I've read!

I need to get moving. Inigo is getting

strange creatures

- material culture demonstrates intelligence

- hostile at once - why?

- not mentioned in any of the texts I got a hold of concerning cyrodiilic dwemer ruins nor those of skyrim

- possible relation to mer? physiology similar

- local to this particular cavern perhaps?

Have to go Inigo is getting twitchy

Fascinating coinage - mirrors the precision in other Dwemer items

What craft allowed for such perfect uniform shapes?

Glad I learned a little about locks back in Cyrodiil - will be keeping some of these coins for study

Fascinating automaton

Dwemer metal does not corrode - difficult to conform whether such things date back to the time of the Dwemer or are somehow being manufactured elsewhere within the ruins

How does this lever activate it?

If only we had time to study the mechanism in

Hello future Lokra - this is Inigo, reminding you to stop taking notes when you are in a cave filled with strange angry elf-things. I will give you your quill back when we find shelter.

[wandering-the-snow-throat]

Diary of Lokra Gra-Galash

(Loose sheet of paper stuffed between pages)

Reman's Balls, Inigo's cursed me

He taught me how to make an 'Elsweyr Fondue', and it's

It's

Indescribably delicious. Warm. Filling. It's so energising I could swear it made Magic feel less of a strain to cast for a while. It's truly a sublime, perfectly conceived meal.

It's also ruinously expensive to make.

I'm doomed. Sunk. I know now in my very soul that I'm going to be bleeding Septims for the rest of my existence trying to find ingredients to make more of this divine fondue.

Recipe is as follows....

[wandering-the-snow-throat]

Diary of Lokra Gra-Galash

27th of Last Seed, 4E 201

By the Nin Eight this place is getting tiring.

I simply wanted to walk the road from Riften to Windhelm.

Instead I find pyromaniac cultists? And goats?

This 'Morvunskar' was an unpleasant detour, and a confusing one. How bad have things gotten that a fortress so close to the capital of these so-called Stormcloaks can be so brazenly occupied by such a group?

We had no idea things had fallen apart so much back in Cyrodiil. I might not have come had I known.

I have heard Winterhold is more ruin than city at this point. I hope it's safer than this. I fear it will be worse.

Windhelm was just as disappointing as the road there.

Make no mistake, the city's beauty is the equal of many in Cyrodiil, and the architecture of the ancient Nords would undoubtedly be a rich and delightful field of study. The modern Nords however are disapppointing hosts, for the most part, with little time for foreigners or mages.

Not my first fistfight with an arrogant man, but perhaps the sweetest.

I may be a mage, but my family are Orsimer. They raised me to protect myself with my fists before I ever discovered my talent at spellcraft.

Regardless, I knew that I would only have more trouble the longer I remained in this dismal place. After a day offloading what trinkets Inigo and I had accumulated on our travels, we were happy to be gone.

At the very least, Inigo did his best to keep our spirits up while sheltering in an unwelcoming inn in the city, and a Nord girl called Susanna working there proved at least that some living in this city were not blinded by hatred. She's a sweet girl - deserves better than a place like this.

Tomorrow, we'll be on our way to Winterhold, and hopefully we'll receive a warmer welcome upon our arrival.

[gladsomevarangian]

My Skyrim/Elder Scrolls obsession has led me to start my first ever sideblog, Wandering the Snow-Throat ^^ It's gonna be an IC diary of my Orsimer character Lokra Gra-Galash as she wanders through Skyrim. Really excited to see what stuff she encounters on her modded journey ^^