My name is Ivor Bighorn. I am but a lowly farmer trying to scratch a living from the barren wastelands around Ivarstead in the province of Skyrim. I hold no illusions that my journals will be of great importance or interest for future generations, however, I was compelled to put quill to parchment after a number of unusual disturbances in our quaint mountain town.
Yesterday, a stranger arrived in town wearing nothing but a pair of dirty discoloured briefs. A dark elf, with extraordinary facial features, exaggerated beyond the usual limits of nature. He has huge bug eyes, a bulbous forehead, and a chin that could cut through troll fat. Despite his hideous physical appearance, most other townsfolk seem unfazed by him, and speak to him as an ordinary visitor. How I wish he’d put on a tunic.
Whilst tending to my cabbages, he approached me from behind without a word, and made movements suggestive of fornication. As I tried to politely move away, he responded by leaping onto my roof and carelessly casting flame spells near the thatch. Fortunately, this failed to ignite, and I was about to summon the guards before he leaped off and ran off into the sunset towards Bleakfalls Barrow. I quietly hope that he fails to return.
The stranger appeared again today. One of the guards informed me that he was a Dragonborn, and had been summoned by the Greybeards. This essentially makes him the Chosen One, and he will be rewarded special dispensation as a result. I also found out his name; the curious moniker of “IM GAYLOL”. I can only hope that Mr GAYLOL’s behaviour improves in line with what we would expect from a Dragonborn.
|Wish You Were Here...instead of me.|
Mr GAYLOL has returned from his training with the Greybeards and promptly proceeded to Shout at my chickens, making them crumble apart with the power of his magical voice. Quite why a person with the power to slay dragons would want to assault a flock of lowly chickens and destroy a simple farmer’s livelihood is beyond me. I called the guards, but they failed to catch him before he stole a horse from a nearby stable, and fled in the direction of Whiterun. If he appears again, I shall report him to the authorities without hesitation. My wife says I need to forget about it, but this injustice is playing on my mind constantly.
I came across three dead guards stripped naked in the snow today. There were no witnesses, but I am convinced this is the heinous work of GAYLOL. Not only is he an abomination, but he is dangerous and a menace to our way of life. People are becoming frightened to leave their houses. The inn keeper said that GAYLOL was bartering with him over some imperial armour only a few days ago. No doubt he is slaying people and selling their cuirass’ for a few extra coin. I don’t understand why security cannot be stepped up in the face of this evil.
That bastard! My wife and dog are both dead by his wretched hand!
I awoke in the middle of night to urinate. As I reached for the bedpan, I noticed someone had placed all of our food in there in some sort of disgraceful practical joke. This has spoiled our entire food supplies for the winter, which means that starvation is a distinct possibility. That’s when I heard a jug fall off the table in the main room. I grabbed my pitchfork and ventured forth, only to find GAYLOL squatting in our kitchen over the corpse of my beloved and newly eviscerated pooch. Upon being discovered, GAYLOL must have panicked and, in the ensuing scuffle, burned my poor wife to cinders with a fire spell before escaping into the night.
Me and Erin had been together for 38 years, and now this “Dragonborn” has ruined my livelihood, destroyed my dog, and brutally slaughtered my beautiful bride in one evening. I cannot cope. I don’t know how to come to terms with the loss.
|Even his horse is evil|
The local community has been very supportive. The inn keeper has offered me free food and lodgings until I can get back on my feet. The blacksmith has provided me with a dagger, for protection in case the murderer reappears. The farm across the way sends it’s condolences, and has offered to replant some carrots for me come next spring. My wife’s body is currently being embalmed at Bleakfalls Barrow and is to be prepared for a funeral precession tomorrow afternoon.
No sightings of GAYLOL yet today, apart from the inn keeper heard someone walking around on his roof last night. I suspect this was him, escaping from the scene.
Tragedy has struck again. As the undertakers carried my wife’s coffin through the village streets, that damned dark elf appeared again, leaping over the precession on a horse in an act of defiance. He then dismounted and used a Raise Undead spell to reanimate Erin’s corpse. Shortly after coming back to life, Erin went on a spree of unrepentant violence, sweeping aside her old acquaintances like mudcrabs in a mudslide.
It took a whole legion of the Emperor’s finest archers to finally bring her down. In the meantime, GAYLOL escaped yet again.
This is to be my last diary entry. I cannot cope with the twisted machinations of the Dragonborn, playing with me as though I am a character in a stage play. Tonight, I shall end it all by consuming my whole supply of Skooma. I only hope that whatever malicious being is responsible for the creation of GAYLOL is satisfied that it has bought an old man to take his own life.
So remember, next time you’re in Skyrim, take a moment to think about how your actions affect those around you.