Journal of Legate Fasendil Erathus Stormaere
Turdas, 18th of Last Seed, Fourth Era 201
Entry I
~As I and the 402nd Legion under my command begin the arduous trek towards the Rift to set up a forward camp now that the war has officially resumed, I cannot gave help but gaze inward and wonder where it all went wrong. To think that a dragon of all things would surface now, after all these years.
If Ulfric and his men could have procured the services of a... no that's insanity. What was I thinking even considering such a thought. Mere men could never hope to command such a mighty, majestic beast. Regardless, I fear the worst for this region if this continues. We cannot keep perpetuating this cyclical existence. No, I shan't permit it.
Entry II
~We have arrived at the forward camp, and begun to make preparations for the march on Fort Greenwall. Ulfric's boys will never know what hit em'.
That's strange, I could of swore I heard...
The ink trails of the page.
Entry III
~My slumber these past few days has been riddled with shakes and fever dreams the likes of which I have never encountered. I seem to be having trouble sifting through my immediate and distant memories. I see a great ruin to the west, covered by a dense layer of fog. What is happening to me?
Final Entry
Forelhost, the center of his magnificent armies in the West. Countless times was our lord's bastion assailed by the treacherous rebels, countless times were they mercilessly crushed underfoot. I go there now, to reclaim the mantle of general of the Burning Legion and archmagus of Aedric flame. Our lord awaits, soon he shall reclaim his dominion and once more rule over what has always been his.