Yngvild turned out to be a buried, icy burial barrow for ancient Nordic battle maidens; all the draugr that we encountered were female. The entrance had been excavated from beneath ice and snow semi-recently. We encountered two draugr patrolling just outside the entrance and had to put them down.

Following the tunnel, we came to the first chamber. It was deserted, though an empty sarcophagus sat neglected at the bottom of the path that wound down to the bottom. A partially buried wooden ramp brought us to the ground floor and pointed in the direction of another tunnel. I crept down first, whispering for Serana to stand back a little so she could have a good view of the floor of the cavern if things got exciting.

As I peered down this dim tunnel I saw movement; a humanoid figure was partially obscured by icy fog at the far end. I looked back and gave her a short nod. Serana acknowledged this with a grim expression and kindled a fire spell in one hand and her ice spear spell in the other.

A fired arrow, and the draugr snarled and jogged toward us, getting impaled by two more arrows before it was too close to rely on my ranged weapons. It was quick, and disturbingly resilient. These ancient battle maidens must have been nearly unbeatable in life.

It drew close enough to be just out of sword range, and then it growled, "FUS."

I reached for Dawnbreaker, but it finished what it was saying before I could draw it.

"RO DAH!"

A pulse of energy fired from the draugr's mouth and hit me full on. The air was pressed out of my lungs in an instant. My feet lost traction as the blast threw me bodily backward against the side of the descending stone ramp. I hit with enough force to know I would be a mass of bruises later if I didn't get a healing potion inside me. I then dropped into a half crouch, trying to get my lungs to start working again.

The draugr was wielding a battle axe, and its eyes blazed with pale blue light as it charged my half prone form.

Fire scorched the freezing air and the draugr paused in its charge to growl its displeasure at Serana's interference. An ice spear quickly followed, and there was a kind of leathery scrunch noise as the draugr finally went down with an ice spear to the heart.

I finally sucked in a deep breath and panted for a bit. Serana was at my side, already holding out a healing potion.

"Thanks," I wheezed after gulping it down. "Didn't know the damn things could use magic like that. Most of the ones I've encountered use weapons and that's it."

A second draugr went down at a distance, skewered by arrows and ice spears flying down the narrow tunnel.

We came to a fork and after a brief, quiet debate, went left. To my surprise, there was a silvery, glowing form of a woman standing in front of a stone table.

The last time I saw a ghost was Helgi. The ten year old child had been killed by a vampire who had tried to turn her and failed. The vampire had then had caused a scandal by burning the house down with the child and her mother inside. It had been part of the whole messy vampiric conspiracy in Morthal that had ultimately gotten me in very well with the residents of the town.

I swallowed back the lump in my throat. This was no lost remnant of a child; this was probably one of the milkmaids who had gone missing. And unlike Helgi, this poor woman was under Arondil's control.

Serana was thinking the same because she touched my shoulder, shook her head, and touched a finger to her lips. I agreed with a silent, sorrowful nod.

"Forgive me," Serana murmured, and the ghost had barely begun to turn when Serana ran her dagger through the ghost's chest.

Strangely, the ghost gave a gasp of shock before whispering, "Finally… free." Then she dissolved into a small pile of glowing goo. I stared with my mouth open; she had succumbed to the weapon almost as though she were still living, or at least, of flesh and blood.

Serana examined the softly glowing pile of what remained of the ghost, murmuring magical terms to herself. I didn't understand what "tactile formation of the soul" meant, but I sure understood "complete servility," and I didn't like it. Finally, Serana stood up and dusted her hands off with an expression of loathing.

"Arondil deserves his fate;" she hissed through clenched teeth, "trust me."

I peered at the table where the spirit had been standing and found a thin leather journal. This would be the first of the journals. I quickly paged through it.

Day 1

It seems the cretins of Dawnstar are not quite as foolish as I had surmised. They found my experimentations, and needless to say, were not pleased with what they saw. They burned my home and my initial notes. No matter. My work can only flourish without the distractions of living amongst the unenlightened.

I have found a barrow off the north coast of Skyrim that will be more than sufficient for my continued studies. The ruins of Yngvild should hold the materials I need to learn more about reanimating and enslaving the dead.

On a personal note, I WILL miss the young maidens of Dawnstar. Such beauty was an intoxication. I often found my thoughts wandering around them, imagining secret encounters between myself and one or two of the local girls.

Ugh. Creep. I thought with disgust. I closed the journal and tucked it into my backpack.

I knew that men would often fantasize during private moments. Divines, I knew that women did it too. But there was something slimy about a man who delved into enslaving magics, and coupling that with fantasizing about young women… That kind of mindset made my skin crawl.

Returning to the fork, we found that the rightmost path led to a small chamber with a single ghost and two dead and half-buried draugr. I put the ghost down with a well placed arrow. It felt strange to be killing people who were already dead. I hoped that they would arrive in the afterlife without experiencing anything akin to pain; they had suffered enough under Arondil.

Walking along the path to another fork, we found a single draugr was waiting. Taking the right hand path, we found ourselves at the top of a tall chamber. There were two more draugr down the zig-zagging trail.

We soon found another of Arondil's Journals on a table in an alcove.

Day 8

I have established a temporary work station in the cold caves, and have found several burial chambers within the snow and ice. While in the first chamber, I exhumed a few 'test subjects,' all female. I was stunned to find my mind wandering again to the women of Dawnstar as I examined my find. At first, I was slightly disturbed by my thoughts, but later I found myself reevaluating…

I felt my lip curl in disgust. Oh Divines… please tell me he didn't…

Day 9

The first trials went splendidly. Each subject was reanimated in a state of total complacency, bending to my every task and whim. I have ordered a few of my new servants to guard the island, while the rest will act as my personal entourage, standing by me at all times. Standing watch over me while I sleep.

Okay, that's creepy but better than I feared. Still, I think Serana knows more than she said, and I have a bad feeling we're going to find out exactly what he's been doing.

We found the third journal just a little further on.

Day 21

An intriguing development. Tonight, my guards have brought me a trespasser they found near the cave. At first I was understandably upset. Not only was I disturbed during one of my few moments alone with my favorite servant, but I recognized the trespasser as a milk maid from Dawnstar. She remembered me, as well, and made bold claims that I had been lurking near her at all hours.

What lies! True, I had taken notice of her on occasion, but she was nowhere near the most noticeable of maidens in town. Her continued accusations, coupled with my fear of more uninvited guests, led me to conclude that she could never return to Dawnstar.

My servants were quick to carry out my sentencing.

Her body is here next to me, as I write this. Funny. Her eyes are still so full of life. Perhaps I will try a new experiment tonight, using fresher materials.

'Few moments alone with his favorite servant?' Oh gods that's disgusting! The mental image of a man spending alone time with a draugr, thousands of years dead and mummified, was enough to twist my stomach. Necrophiliacs… just… UGH! Congratulations Arondil: my lady parts have never been so dry.

We soon came upon what could be considered a throne room, with two stone thrones seated at the far end. Arondil, a High Elf, was sitting and talking to another ghostly milkmaid seated in the second throne. They hadn't seen us enter, and I was more than willing to take the opportunity as it was presented. As I drew my bow to snipe the creepy bastard, Serana put her hand on my nocked arrow and gently lowered it.

Looking askance at her, she gave me a crooked smirk and nodded to one side of the pair. A soul gem sat on a pedestal near the two. Perhaps the soul gem that held the current ghost captive?

I frowned thoughtfully. The floor of the throne room was frosted with snow; there was no way I could move quietly enough across a surface that would loudly crunch under my feet. I pointed at Serana and signaled for her to be the one to grab the gem. She nodded and was off, sliding around the perimeter of the room. Just a few steps away, and there was a small flare of light before she vanished, reduced to the faintest shimmer of white in the snow filled room. I'm not sure how she managed it, but she managed to slink around behind the pair without a sound to betray herself, and then was past them to the pedestal. Noting that I was watching to see the show, she popped back into view.

Serana's next gesture was almost lost in the chaos that erupted, as she cast Soul Trap on Arondil an instant before she reached down and grabbed the gem.

The ghost shrieked in shock and rage, surging to her feet out of the throne and drawing a dagger.

Arondil's voice rose in confused query, then to panic, "What's happening? No! Wait! Stop! I command you!"

The ghost was in no mood to take orders from her subjugator and screamed in rage, "You're mine!"

The room was too dim for the blade to flash or sparkle like in stories. Instead, the former milkmaid lashed out with the shadowed blade in a flurry of enraged blows as the panicked elf tried to defend himself.

Arondil, for his part, wasn't as effective with a weapon as he was with magic. Once his control had broken, he was reduced to trying to block his former slave's blade… and not very well at that. He fell in minutes, and his former slave stared coldly down at his corpse.

There was a hum, and a strange, ghostly white wind swirled out of his body. It circled around Serana a moment before disappearing into the black soul gem in her other hand.

Smiling grimly, Serana murmured over the other soul gem and made a few gestures. With a soft exhalation, and a half murmured, "Finally… free. Thank you," the milkmaid collapsed into a pile of glowing ectoplasm.

I crossed the room to stand by her, staring down at the black soul gem with mixed feelings. I mean, if I was going to send a soul to Molag, it was only fair that the soul I sent was one that had done his own share of horrible things. My emotions swirled a little in discomfort before I pushed them aside. It was too late to have second thoughts.

After a moment, something occurred to me, "Hey, um, Serana? How is it that Arondil didn't notice the soul trap? It sucked Black Marsh mud when you did it to me."

"Well, it's because I only partially Soul Trapped you," she tucked the gem into her pocket.

"As opposed to…?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Oh!" She shook her head in mild self recrimination. "The Soul Trap spell is completely painless. All it does is create a snare. In the case of partially Soul Trapping you…" she grimaced, "Well that's a different story. The full spell takes the soul when the body is slain. I would assume the pain of dying would cover up the pain of having one's soul captured. The partial Soul Trap takes a part of your soul while you're still living. That would explain why it was more… noticeable."

"Ah…" There wasn't much more to say to that, so I searched Arondil's body and came up with a key and a handful of Septims. Pocketing the money, I took the key to a locked door at the back of the throne room and found myself in a bedroom.

The bed was encircled with a scattering of flowers, and another pile of glowing ectoplasm stretched across the bed sheets. Another milkmaid had been lying here before her master's control had broken.

It was here that we found the necrophiliac's last journal on a table across from the bed.

Day 28

The new experiment has proven a success! The milkmaid (whose name still escapes me) was revived as the others, bowing to my commands, with only one interesting development. She has reformed incorporeally, more phantasm than reanimated dead.

As her glowing visage stood before me, I found my hand reaching out to touch her. As my fingers passed through her, I felt a sensation unlike any other. It was as if her essence were invigorating my very soul, connecting with me on a level no woman of flesh and blood could do. This discovery is life changing!

Day 35

I have ordered my older servants to go out and find any more subjects that may have become lost. With the discovery of the inner sanctum deeper still within Yngvild, I should have enough room to store many new materials until I can transform them into willing slaves.

Even greater still, a small modification to the spell that reanimates the soul gives them a more solid form. I well and truly look forward to greater pleasures than ever before!

I look back on my daydreams whilst living in Dawnstar and wonder if they were in fact portents of times to come.

"Ew ew ew ew ew," I said, slapping closed the final journal and squinting my eyes closed as if that could bar the imagery from my head. "I need to get drunk. I need to get so drunk that I forget this disgusting creep ever existed." I shoved the journal into my pack.

Leaving Yngvild, we passed the stripped, frozen corpses of the poor women that Arondil had kidnapped. There was nothing we could do for them now, save for the hope that they could now go on to their respective afterlives.

Returning to the Ragged Flagon, Vekel accepted the journals with a nod, "Good. As promised, here's your payment for bringing them to me. Got it as part of a fair trade from my client," he handed me a sack of Septims and twenty more elven arrows to help fill my quiver. "I will simply assume you got what you wanted, and we'll speak no more on the matter."

I felt a tiny smirk come to my lips and I nodded, "Be well, Vekel. And I sincerely hope your buyer is only interested in reading those books... as practicing their contents might have me hunting them down as well."