I’ve only been in the area a short while but already find both Skyrim and the Reach almost unrecognizable. In all my years of opposition to the blight, I have never seen vampiric corruption on this scale. I will record my observations here so that they may be useful later on. For myself or whomever must continue the fight should I perish.
Day 1
The search for my prey has begun. The dark power of the Harrowstorms no doubt drew him to this area. I must be vigilant, as it feels as though the blood-starved lurk behind every rock and copse of trees. Despite the danger, I will not allow him to escape. I owe them that much.
Day 4
I had, at first, thought the adoption of the name the Gray Host merely vanity. Surely, I thought, this blood swarm could not live up to the feared reputation of Verkarth’s horde. I was wrong. If anything, these beings outmatch the fury of the past. I am forced to adapt my tactics somewhat to avoid being overwhelmed. I am not afraid. In fact, I welcome it. The hunter, when hunted by his prey, is reminded of the taste of fear. It sharpens the edge. Heightens the senses.
Day 7
My work has been arduous. Every night is restless, haunted by nightmares both real and imagined. I hunt when I can, sleep when I must. This hunt has become a campaign. And I must bear up under the weight of this responsibility.
Day 12
More new tactics, new cruelties from the Host. I tracked a refugee group I was convinced were fledglings come to join the throng. They happened upon a young girl, weeping beside the road. I readied my blade and charged ahead, expecting to save the youth. Only to stop dead in my tracks as a group of ashen-faced children materialized from the shadows. The orphan girl and her friends tore the group apart, then turned their red eyes upon me. I did what I had to.
Day 15
I think exhaustion is catching up to me. Either I encountered the fastest gargoyle in Tamriel or I am slowing down. I suspect I know which. My healing skills should suffice. But if I was even a moment slower, I would be writing this with but a single hand. Despite my reservations, I have sent out a summons for aid. I must put aside my pride in the interest of concluding the hunt. It seems I will need a partner for what is to come.
