 Captain's Journal |
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| Added by | Dead Man's Dread | ||
| ID | xx000808 | ||
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| Needed for | The Restless | ||
| Locations | |||
| Found in the following locations: | |||
28th of Last Seed, 3E 39
We set sail on Dead Man's Dread in the summer, to take advantage of the calmer winds. Yet Kynareth saw fit to throw us off course, and now we find ourselves stranded in a fog, with no sun or stars to guide us. The crew is blaming the young navigator, K'avir, for steering us into it. In truth, I only brought him on board because the old Captain took ill, and we were desperately short on men.
4th of Hearthfire, 3E 39
One of the crew, Asif, says he was once a Priest of Arkay, and used to perform the rites. He believes the former Captain was murdered. I'll keep this between him and I until I know more.
22nd of Hearthfire, 3E 39
I've kept the date by marking the back of this journal. But there are times I forget, and in truth I don't know whether it's the 22nd of Hearthfire or the 1st of the New Year.
But the cold is enough to tell us that winter is on its way. We'll need to find land soon, as the men are getting nervous. There's been three fights over rations in the past week. Worse yet, I'm starting to lose my head. There are times I look west and see the golden sands of Stros M'Kai on the curve of the horizon. I have to force myself to look away, knowing there's nothing there.
2nd of Frostfall, 3E 39
We finally managed to find land in this barren frost. The men are joyous. Based on the markings inside the grotto, it looks like we've reached Blackbone Isle, an old pirate den of all things. Many of us were corsairs before we pledged ourselves to the Crown, so perhaps coming here was more than luck. Either way, we can't be far from the mainland now. We'll head south for Skyrim in the morning.
3rd of Frostfall, 3E 39
We are a crew of dead men, and this ship is our tomb.
The entrance collapsed in the middle of the night, sealing us inside. Still, we might've found a way back to shore, had the Forebear among us, K'avir, not sabotaged the skiffs. It's my crime as much as his, for I'm the one who brought him aboard.
For his part, the Forebear made no attempt to resist or escape. In fact, he readily admitted to the deed, as well of the death of our former Captain. He wanted us to know exactly who it was that he served, so that every Crown would know that nowhere in Tamriel was safe.
We put him in the brig and left him to rot. Some of the men wanted a more creative punishment, but the reality is there's no worse fate than the one he doomed us to.
5th of Frostfall, 3E 39
The situation is dire. The food stocks are depleted, and half the men are crippled with fever. The crew have no delusions about what comes next. But we can still die with purpose.
Before the old Captain died, he told me that the sabre on his wall belonged to Cyrus himself, and that it was worth more than a thousand ships full of plunder.
I never asked how he knew Cyrus, or how he came upon his sword. But I know protecting the hero's legacy was important to him, and now that honor falls to us.
I gave each man a choice. Some opted for the drink, others chose a more dramatic exit. As we depart, we will pray to Arkay to bind our souls to the ship, just as Prince A'Tor was bound to a gem so many years ago.
We will protect the relics of Cyrus, and honor the Crown. We will do in death what we could not do in life.