Elder Scrolls

Journal of Garron

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Divines bless the bottomless pockets of the Pellingares. On the take for four years with Master Pellingare's brats. Most of that time I merely brushed dunken [sic] [Do not change this to drunken. This misspelled word is how it appears in-game.] disturbances under the rug, or paid off a witness. Only had to bury one body. And through it all the gold kept rolling in. Enough to fund my little studies into necromancy.

Now the brats are planning something big. Building an army or somesuch beneath the sewers. Paying me a heap of gold to keep the guard off their tail. No way in Oblivion they're going to be able to keep this secret. Captain Lucius' dogs will hunt us all down. But maybe I can use this to my advantage. After all, I need to "die" to finish my transformation.


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