The Thirteenth Morndas of Sun's Dawn.

Solitude. Today I woke up, disrobing myself as I prepared to take a bath. After an hour of bathing, I prepared myself my breakfast, A beautiful platter of cheese, olives, and boar. A few more hours passed as I heard a knock on my door. I opened it to reveal an Imperial soldier waiting for me. "Magnate, We have something you need to see, come to the docks when you're able." I nod my head as I change from my bathrobe into my usual clothes. I wear my finest leathers and cover my neck with a fur cape, adorning myself with gold rings as I tie up my beard. I walk through the city streets of Solitude, walking atop the great arch I navigate myself through the ebb and flow of the crowds until I make it to my destination. What was once a beautiful dock, the largest of all Skyrim, was home to the East Empire Trading Company, the main exporter and importer of goods throughout northern Tamriel had been desecrated. What once was a beautiful ocean teeming with life is now littered with the stench of death. Large, bloated salt-filled corpses fill the ports limiting ships from entering. Few of the bodies are human, mostly belonging to horkers or slaughterfish. A man outfitted in a bloodstained apron hastily approaches me. "Magnate Oritonde. It's good to see you, my dear friend. I have brought you here to share news most devastating. As my most loyal trader you have seen me at my worst, and see the city of Solitude itself at its worst. On days the Blue Palace shines brightly you were there. But today, my dear friend is not that sort of day. Man, Mer, the whole lot of them died in the ocean as soon as I arrived this morn. I saw them floating here, dead in the water but I'm unsure of what could cause something so widespread." He spent an hour showing me various graphs, scrolls, and journal entries from employees describing the events that happened. From what I could gather I can only assume that these strange deaths could only be one thing. An omen. A warning of a disaster yet to come. Whether this comes as a warning from the Divines themselves or the Daedric Princes is yet to be determined. I spent eight hours studying corpses and gathering supplies to investigate why this might have happened. I sent a letter to an old acquaintance of mine from the College of Winterhold. "It's good to see you, Oritonde." Calanthe Derillium was a sorcerer from the College of Winterhold who studied the art of Greater Conjuration. Though it has been a decade since any conflicts in Skyrim and the civil war have come to an end there is still a sense of something sinister lying dormant, simmering, waiting for its chance to spread torment and fear across the whole of Tamriel itself. I know of the Greymoor and the Oblivion Gates. I know of those who have come before me, My snow elf brethren being forced into submission by the very Nords who call this place "home". As a wood elf myself I see it as my goal in life to preserve and catalog as much of life as possible. I'm getting ahead of myself. Even in this journal, I still get lost in my own thoughts. Sunset, I compile my notes and walk back down to the port. After Calanthe and I exchanged a few drinks we had come to the conclusion that whatever this omen may be must be tied back to one of the Divines. Callienthe assured me that the divine workings of this must have been from either Arkay, the god of death, or Kyraneth, the goddess of elements. In the middle of the night, I rose from my desk. I had accidentally fallen asleep and in that slumber, I saw a damned sight. A dream. A premonition. Visions of what's to come. As I gazed out across the dark, storm-tossed waters, I saw something that made my blood run cold. Emerging from the depths like some monstrous leviathan risen from the abyss was a creature beyond my own description. Its body was colossal, a blood red tone with its eyes glowing a blisteringly bright red otherworldly malevolence. But this scene unwaveringly played out. I saw the body pushing a massive horde of corpses before it, like flotsam on the tide. Bodies of men, women, and children were piled in its wake, its eyes staring blankly ahead, their limbs twisted and broken. I do not know what this vision entails, but I need to relay this message to Jarl Elisif right this second. I leave this journal as a warning and a guide. To those who find this book in the empty halls of Skyrim, in some deep crypt, or within the very walls of this house, It was not the divines, these strange omens, and premonitions. One of the Daedric Princes themselves is preparing to invade Solitude. When all this is done I hope there is still room for me in Sovngarde.