The Bug Folk - A journal entry

A friend and I are working on a fan race! Hooray.

6th of Last Seed

I’ve made it through the pass from Markarth into Wrothgar; it was far steeper and more treacherous than my source had felt the need to mention, but I’m here. I’ve set up camp under an inlet by a lake and unpacked much of my things. I need to get to work straight away but I’m far too exhausted from the climb to begin any research before tomorrow. I’ll sleep first.

7th of Last Seed

The fish in this lake are small and malnourished, hardly any meat on them. Lucky for me I packed some dry, just in case. The water has been useful in my research, as I need clean and fresh samples for my alchemical work. It boils more slowly than the water I used back in Skyrim, I don’t know if it’s due to altitude or what, but it’s frustrating to say the least. I also uncovered a set of tracks from an unknown animal near my camp upon my return. They were very obviously not man or mer, to my relief. I’d heard of a strange centipede-like buffalo type creature living in the Wrothgarian wilds. Perhaps it was the one snooping around my things. Tonight I’ll be sure to hang my food up somewhere high.

8th of Last Seed, Sunrise

I was awoken by a shrill and desperate chirping, unlike anything I’d ever heard before. Too loud for any bug of traditional size, and tree frogs don’t live this high up. I’m not sure what to think. I’ll sleep in today, and continue my experiments tomorrow. I don’t want to chance any fateful encounters.

10th of Last Seed

It’s been over a day since my last entry, and while progress with the properties of the water is moving along swimmingly, I’m afraid I may have to cut my expedition short. I heard the same shrill chirping again, but this time I caught a glimpse of the source. On top of the cliff that formed my little inlet I managed to catch sight of a man-sized something just before it skittered off, possibly afraid of being seen. Its face was blurred but the overall shape of its head was… bug-like. As if a cicada had grown ten times its normal size, or had somehow bread with a domestic shalk. It could’ve been an Orc, I’m told they live here but… somehow I don’t think the camouflage habits of their southern Wood Orc cousins apply here. I fear my little spy’s outfit was genuine.

11th of Last Seed, 3 am

I have to get out of here; I’ve packed up my things and am ready to embark back down the mountain. If I leave now I can make it to Markarth before the next nightfall. I can’t stay here any longer. I keep hearing claws on stone and a reverberating howl. I’ve had enough.