Woads in the jungle, a Daedric Prince at its heart, and no clear signs that there will be a unified effort to stop this madness. We face a long fight in the best of conditions, a painfully short one with a bloody end as it looks right now.

I feel cynical, defeated today. Of course Nianatara would want to keep hiding – cowardice has served her people well to this point. Why change course even as they speed towards the cliff? There have been no cliffs over which they’ve flown so far.


Is this really from a lack of trust in Salisir? Would everything be different if he were somehow no longer involved? Why should her dislike of the man lead her to such foolish action? I hate him, too, but even I can see when the benefits outweigh the detriment of holding so closely to my pride. There is no profit to be found in denying his friendship now – he’s the only one who seems capable of bringing the impending war to a favorable close.

Wauloo is getting fidgety. The farther west we move, the more furtive his glances. The quicker his fingers fumble amongst his clothes, winding and unwinding, tying and untying. His nerves are getting on mine.

Dionus has been trying to formulate a plan to get into Matasten, but there isn’t a way. None that any of us can see. We need the chaos of war to cloak our approach. We need friends within the city; more than that, we need friends to get us there safely.

If we were home, we would know what to do. It’s amazing how completely helpless a change of context can leave us. We are certainly out of our depth and unable to cope with the challenges before us tonight. Let us hope the right opportunity to change our fortunes arrives, or the walls of Matasten will remain unassailable before us.

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