Quick-Claw’s Moon Musings

“I have been in Skyrim for nigh-on three years now. And yet, I can scarcely call this place home. I fancy that, as many of us Khajiit do, that I am alone in this province. The winters are cold and unforgiving, with constant snow-fall obstructing the roads- travel is difficult. Of course, when those faithless imperials found me, far from Elsweyr’s warm sands, I confess I thought it the end of my travels. A Khajiit is not often taken to be trustworthy and perhaps we do little to allay these suspicions. But to put to death a citizen for no clear reason is a heinous crime. Skyrim has been unwelcoming to my kind but it’s been a warmer embrace than those Cyrodiils ever gave me. Everyone thinks me a skooma-cat; after all, I live in Riften where dishonesty runs rampant and no coin purse is safe. Nevertheless, you would think that after all my service to these Nords I would have some respect. Not so! They call me a filthy cat, milk-drinker, and think I traffic with devils. As a mystic, I am prone to bouts of isolationism but I do not regret this. I know that the Nords value me for my elf-killing skills (damn the Dominion and their toadies!) but if they know of my Dragonborn heritage, they do not believe it. A guard the other day remarked that maybe he, unknowingly, was the Dragonborn. Absurdity! If not I, then who’s been killing all these wyrms? Certainly not the town guard who can be bought for the price of a sweetroll! I am not ungrateful; those are simply poor representatives of this country’s true spirit. Its true wealth lies in its boundless beauty, thrilling history, and arcane secrets. I have read that the Arcane University at its height was a vast cosmopolitan centre for learning and research. I am sad to say that the College of Winterhold leaves much to be desired. The city long ago collapsed into the Sea of Ghosts, with only the College escaping utter destruction. As a consequence, the locals are distrustful of foreigners or those of a magickal disposition. This has led to the College’s isolation from the rest of the country and has fostered practices that I am too ashamed to repeat. The advantage of this, if it can be called one, is that I am free to come and go as I please. As an aspiring alchemist, I often have need of the College’s knowledge of the local flora and fauna and in this they have been most helpful. Skyrim boasts many beautiful and varied specimens, perfect for the noble craft. In terms of instruction, I have found that the Jarls’ court wizards have been a great boon for me. I will not damage their reputations by naming them, should this ever be found, either here in the Mundus or in some realm of Oblivion. It is sufficient to merely state that I have conversed with many brilliant minds on a range of topics far beyond even the most eminent scholar’s ken. This land is slow to reveal its secrets, like a wild animal, it must be cajoled, befriended, and brought to heel if anything is to be discovered. My brethren and sisters of the sand hawk their goods and wares all across Skyrim’s vast (often treacherous) road networks. I have aided them the best I can by buying their wares and quickly buying up their more illegal merchandise. I repeat, I am no skooma-addled kitten but I do care for the well-being of my people even if ‘this one’ is not always able to express it. The many artefacts I have procured on my travels and adventures are often too dangerous to sell, even if they would make me rich beyond peer. Thus, my income is mainly from my craft, the potions and enchanted items I sell for high prices whilst any jewellery I chance upon I sell to my good Argonian friend. It is comforting to enrich another’s life by this act of kindness as he can sell them for much more than I would ever ask. My home is by no means meagre but its simplicity and location are ideal for my pursuits. However, due to circumstances beyond my control, I have been forced to protect my home with all manner of wards, sigils, and enchantments as my enemies are ruthless and constantly seek my end. Riften is rife with the blood-sucking fiends of our nightmares and it is all I can do to stem their bloody tide. Lately, my efforts seem to have attracted a new breed of horror and this one I fear will take all my skill.

This will be my last record of thoughts for a while; I have much to attend to and this country is stirring up every trouble imaginable (and some that cannot be).”

Farewell,

Quick-Claw