Onimiril’s Writings

Author: Onimiril
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I swear that devious collector is thwarting me from his grave. It's been decades and his angry eyes still glare at me in my dreams, the red and full of spite. It was worth it. For the secrets of that puzzle, the ire of one Dark Elf is a small price to pay. A small price.

* * *
I've hired five reasonably talented mages no longer affiliated with that smug lot in the Mages Guild. Disaffected and discreet. They don't know I was expelled—as if I needed the rigid minds of those laboring under Vanus Galerion's thumb—they think this experiment may provide them with reentry into the guild.

* * *
I've finally found a Dwemer site with the proper alignment I will require. Pity it's in the Rift, I dislike the burly Nords and their bellicose ways. Still Avanchnzel remains uninhabited by outlaws or other riff-raff. I am sure I can deal with a few of the animunculi.

Soon, I will know what the Dwarves hid within this cryptic device and their knowledge will set me head and shoulders above all others. Vanus especially.

* * *
What went wrong? Why? It was the fools I hired. It had to be. Pity they died, or I would strip their minds of all reason for botching this so! Fools. I barely made it out. I must get back there. Try again. I must get it back. I must try again. A short rest first. To plan. I must have it back.

* * *
Red eyes. Smiling in the dark. He did this! Him! You can't keep it from me! I will recover my treasure and all its secrets!

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