I don’t have much time. Two weeks ago, I was a Telvanni Spellwright. The wizard I served was on sabbatical in High Isle and we were returning by ship to our home in Ald Isra. A day into the journey, the ship had sprung a leak. As the crew began patching it, a barnacled claw punched through the leak, followed by dozens more. Hadolids had begun assaulting the ship. I hit the sea creatures with every spell I could muster, but to no avail. For each one I killed, another rose from the sea. The crabfolk killed everyone, but they let me live. Threw me in a cage on a floating raft, pulled by pangrits. For days I
The Hadolids made landfall after what felt like an eternity at sea. They fed me strange fish and something else. What I wouldn’t give for just a bowl of saltrice porridge. The Hadolids blindfolded me, bound my arms, and cracked me over the head with something hard. When I awoke, I was in a cave surrounded by them.These Hadolids seemed different. Smaller with softer shells. They unbound my hands. My magicka, while not optimal, was still fearsome. Firebolts, hailstorms, lightning bolts, and even snowballs filled that cave. I had been so weak that none of the crablings had a single dent upon them. But strangely, after my display they began mimicking my movements. I now knew why they kept me alive.
They wanted me to teach them spellcasting.
The Hadolids cannot speak Tamrielic, nor any language that I know. Their bodies just can’t make the sounds. But pointing and gesturing, they understand that. They would leave the cave for days at a time and come back with things that can further their teaching. Books, ink, paper, and even a desk. Through their loot, I learned where I was; West Weald.
Thank Vehk for the underlings that make wine labels. But I fear I learned this too late. I think the Hadolids have realized that I have nothing left to teach them. I’ve taught them all the spells a Telvanni Spellwright can muster, and I pray to Ayem that I have not damned us all.
I did what I had to do in order to survive.
