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Here are the most recent entries from the journal of Alva, member of the Frostpeak Stalkers:

Oh, how amusing life has become since I found myself in the company of Jon. I used to call Morthal home, as much of a home as it could be for someone like me: a beautiful Nord woman with flowing dark hair, parading around in that scandalous barmaid outfit, luring in men and women alike with just a bat of my lashes. The townsfolk, bless them, were none the wiser to the monster that slept beneath their feet during the day. They were my cattle, mere sustenance to keep my undead life going. Hroggar, the poor fool, was one of my favorites: a lumberjack, strong and simple. I turned him into my thrall, and he guarded me while I slept in my coffin, oblivious to the horrors that surrounded him.

But a creature like me easily grows tired of the mundane. Gathering plants, picking mushrooms, brewing potions… oh, how dreary it all was. Morthal needed something thrilling, and I was more than happy to provide it. Movarth sent me to establish a presence there, to seduce and enthrall the town’s men, and eventually, the rest of his coven would move in to feast on the town’s blood. Movarth made me what I am: a vampire, a creature of the night, forever bound to the darkness. I despise what I’ve become, despise the very thing I once feared. But no matter where I go, Movarth would always find me, his grip like an executioner’s axe hanging over my head.

Deep down, a part of me craved more than just blood and power. A part of me wanted to be loved, to be free of Movarth’s control. That’s why Jon intrigued me so. An Altmer mage, he saw through my facade, discovered my true nature, and yet… he treated me like a person, not just a monster. When he exposed me to the townspeople, I was ready to slaughter them all, but Jon proposed something different: freedom. The idea was tantalizing, a chance to break free from this curse, to be something more than just Movarth’s puppet.

Together, we faced the master vampire in his lair, but the raid was a disaster. We were overpowered by Movarth’s minions, and we had to flee. Now, I find myself adventuring with Jon, free from Morthal. I find Jon entertainingly reckless, unpredictable, and for the first time in a long while, I feel… something. Perhaps there is a way out of this after all.

In the meantime, we’ve had our share of adventures. We even managed to conquer an ancient ruin, defeating a bandit group and a powerful spirit named “The Pale Lady.” Her relic sword, “The Pale Blade,” is mine now; a fitting weapon for a vampire like me. The thrill of these encounters has been exhilarating, far more satisfying than any bloodlust could ever be.

But even with Jon, I cannot escape what I am. I’m still a vampire, still bound to the night. And though I despise it, I cannot change it. Not yet. But with Jon, I can at least imagine what it would be like to be free: wild and untamed. Until then, I will continue to play my part, seducing, manipulating, surviving.

Life has taken an unexpected turn since I teamed up with Jon. I thought it would just be the two of us, roaming Skyrim, getting into trouble and having a grand old time. But, Jon had other plans. He’s always thinking a few steps ahead, always looking for an edge. So, he decided we needed more muscle, someone to watch our backs when things get dicey. Enter Uthgerd, this sturdy, head-strong Nord woman from Whiterun. At first, I wasn’t sure how I felt about another person tagging along. But Uthgerd… She knows what I am, and yet, she doesn’t flinch at my fangs or the way my eyes flash in the dark. She meets my gaze with a steely confidence. It’s refreshing. There’s something comforting about not having to hide, at least around my allies.

And, honestly, it’s nice to have another woman around, especially one as tough as Uthgerd. We’re an odd trio, to be sure. Jon with his endless curiosity and reckless spells, Uthgerd with her greatsword and iron will, and me… well, me with my charms and shadows. We’ve become a bit of a family, I suppose. A dysfunctional, bloodthirsty, spell-slinging family, but a family nonetheless.

Just when I thought our little troupe couldn’t get any stranger, we ran into Ange, of all people. Yeah, that Ange: the traveling bard from Morthal. Back when my vampiric nature was exposed in Morthal, I thought it would end in bloodshed, but we managed to avoid that mess. So there Jon, Uthgerd and I were in Whiterun, just minding our own business, when Ange shows up, all curious about what Jon and I have been up to. She had that look in her eye, like she was itching for a story worth singing about. And before I knew it, she was tagging along on our little adventure, strumming her lute and keeping spirits high even when things got dicey. I thought I wouldn’t like having a bard around. I mean, what use is a song when you’re fighting off bandits or creeping through some forgotten crypt? But Ange… she grew on me. But like all good things, it didn’t last. We were ambushed by a pack of bandits, nothing we couldn’t handle, or so I thought. But Ange… she didn’t make it. One moment she was there, and the next… she was gone. I didn’t expect it to hit me so hard, but it did. It’s a damn shame, really.

Jon suddenly got into his head that our little band of misfits needed a proper name, something to really solidify our place as a force to be reckoned with. Uthgerd, Ria, Jenassa, and I all gathered around, each of us throwing out ideas, some better than others. Jon, bless him, tossed out some downright ridiculous suggestions: “Jon and the Amazing Band of Adventurers,” can you believe that? We all had a good laugh at that one.

But after all the banter and brainstorming, we landed on something that really spoke to me: “Frostpeak Stalkers.” Now that’s a name with some bite. It conjures up images of fierce hunters prowling through the icy mountains, doesn’t it? Exactly the kind of reputation we want to build, especially for someone like me who’s always had a bit of a predatory streak. And it’s not just about the name, either. The fact that Jon cared enough to get all our input, to make us feel like we’re part of something bigger, it’s… well, it’s a bit heartwarming. Not exactly something I’m used to, considering the whole vampire thing tends to keep me on the outskirts of trust and camaraderie. But with Jon, Uthgerd, Ria, and Jenassa, I actually feel like I belong to a little family, a dysfunctional, bloodthirsty, spell-slinging family, sure, but a family nonetheless.

And Jon, he’s so proud of that name. Keeps saying it over and over like he’s trying to carve it into the very mountains themselves. He did warn us we might get tired of hearing it, but I told him that when that happens, I’ll just tease him by reminding everyone of that first absurd name he proposed. Ah, the look on his face when I do… it’s priceless. Makes me almost forget about all the shadows lurking in my past.

So yeah, “Frostpeak Stalkers” it is. I like the sound of that. It’s intimidating, and it fits us perfectly. We’re not just some random group of adventurers; we’re a pack, hunting down whatever challenges Skyrim throws our way. And for the first time in a long while, I feel like I’m part of something… something more than just survival. I might be a creature of the night, but with the Frostpeak Stalkers, I’ve found a little sliver of light in all this darkness. And I’ll hold onto that as long as I can.

Just when I think our little ragtag band couldn’t get any more interesting, Jon goes and adds a whole new twist. We were at the inn in Ivarstead, just minding our business, when this local lad, red-haired, scowling like he’d just swallowed a bucket of nails, starts eyeing Jon with all the warmth of a frostbite spider. Turns out, his name’s Bassianus Axius, and for whatever reason, he’s got a bone to pick with Jon.

So, Jon being Jon, doesn’t just let it slide. Oh no, he walks right up to the guy and calls him out on it. Bassianus, bless him, gets all hot under the collar and pulls a knife on Jon! Can you imagine? About to lunge at him, too, but Uthgerd and Jenassa? They weren’t having any of that nonsense. They had the fight beaten out of him before he could even think twice.

Instead of letting the idiot nurse his bruises and limp home, Jon wants to know what’s got this guy so bitter. And what do you know? Bassianus spills his guts. Turns out, the poor sod feels trapped in Ivarstead, dreams of being an adventurer but sees no way out of that dreary little town. And, of course, there’s a girl involved: Fastred, a local beauty. He’s head over heels for her, but her father thinks Bassianus is a good-for-nothing and wants his precious daughter to stay put and work on the farm.

Jon, in all his reckless wisdom, decides that what we need is a new member: Bassianus! Yeah, you heard me right. Jon offers him a place in the Frostpeak Stalkers, and this Bassianus, well, he’s thrilled. He jumps at the chance, eager to escape his mundane life and prove he’s worth more than mucking out stables. But Jon doesn’t stop there. No, he drags Bassianus over to Fastred’s father, determined to show the old man that Bassianus is no longer some worthless boy but a member of a renowned band of adventurers. The poor father didn’t stand a chance against Jon’s persistence. He finally caved, tears and all, and had to watch as his daughter packed up and left town with us, Bassianus in tow.

So now, Fastred and Bassianus are the newest additions to our motley crew. I’ll admit, I find this whole situation rather exciting. There’s something intriguing about having a couple of young lovers among us. And that Fastred girl? Oh, she smells divine. Her blood… I just know it’s going to be delicious. Don’t worry, I’ll play nice… for now. After all, the Frostpeak Stalkers are growing in power, and it feels good to be part of something bigger, something that accepts me for what I am. A vampire among mortals, and they’re none the wiser. Or if they are, they don’t care. It’s a strange new world I find myself in, but I think I’m going to enjoy it.

Well, now things have really taken a turn, haven’t they? The Frostpeak Stalkers, our little dysfunctional family, are becoming something more than just a band of misfits. We’re getting involved in bigger things, like the time we had to intimidate a smuggler in Whiterun for Maven Black-Briar. Now, Maven is not someone you cross lightly, so when she sent us to deal with Mallus Maccius, a weasel of a man who’d crossed her, we knew we had to be on our A-game. Jon, always the thinker, decided we’d use a little subterfuge. And who better to play the doting wife than yours truly?

Oh, it was a blast, honestly. I dolled myself up, playing the perfect picture of a loving wife, all while seducing Mallus just enough to get him alone. Jon wished he could take one of Mallus’ balls as a trophy, but we didn’t need to spill any blood. We got the job done, and Mallus was left shaking in his boots, scared enough to make sure he wouldn’t cross Maven again.

Later that night, back at the Bannered Mare, we had a bit of fun reliving the day. Jon, Uthgerd, and I were sitting around, bellies full of good food and heads buzzing from a few drinks. We started teasing each other about how well I played the part of Jon’s wife, how I had Mallus practically drooling over me. Uthgerd tried to steer the conversation away from all that “girly talk,” as she called it, and onto something more up her alley, like dragon hunting. But Jon, ever the troublemaker, had other ideas. He threw out this little suggestion that maybe I should seduce Uthgerd next. Oh, you should have seen the look on her face. Priceless!

Jon went on, telling Uthgerd how I’d mentioned wanting to feel her strong hands on me while he made love to me. Poor Uthgerd, all that tough exterior just melted away, and she got flustered like a young girl. She even had to step outside for some air, trying to cool down. But we weren’t just teasing. When we offered to share a room for the night, she hesitated, but in the end, she knocked on our door, ready to join us.

And what a night it was. Uthgerd is as strong in bed as she is on the battlefield, and I enjoyed every moment of showing her the pleasures only a woman can give. It was thrilling, feeling her sturdy body under my hands, teaching her how to let go, how to enjoy every touch. By the end of it, the three of us were tangled up together, breathless and satisfied, sharing warmth in that small rented bed.

Lying there, with Jon on one side and Uthgerd on the other, I couldn’t help but think about how far I’ve come. Back in Morthal, I was always on edge, always hiding what I was, always afraid that someone would discover my secret and put a stake through my heart. But now… now I’m part of something. I’ve got Jon, who sees me for who I really am and still stays by my side. And Uthgerd, the strongest person I know, who accepts me, fangs and all. For the first time in a long time, I feel at ease. Maybe even happy. And that’s something I never thought I’d find again. But here I am, wrapped up in this strange little family we’ve created, holding onto this sliver of light in the darkness.

Oh, life with the Frostpeak Stalkers just keeps getting more interesting by the day. We found ourselves back in Whiterun, and Jon, always scheming, decided it was time we did something official for the Jarl. You know Jon: always thinking ahead, always trying to secure a bit more coin for his grand plans. This time, he’s got it in his head that we need a proper base of operations, somewhere to lay low and stash our gear. Can’t say I disagree, but I had to laugh when he started talking about settling down, as if we’re just another bunch of adventurers playing house.

Jarl Balgruuf, no fool himself, decided to test our mettle before he’d consider any kind of deal. He sent us off to clear out a fort that had been overrun by bandits, probably thinking we’d get ourselves killed, or at least prove ourselves worthy. So, off they went in daylight, and as they recounted to me afterwards, it was a bloody mess. The Frostpeak Stalkers fought like wolves, Uthgerd smashing skulls with that greatsword of hers, Jon throwing spells around like confetti.

When it was all said and done, they stood victorious. The Jarl and his housecarl, Irileth, were pleased, and they rewarded us handsomely. But the real prize? The right to buy a home in Whiterun. Jon, ever the practical one, set his sights on Tundra Homestead, a cozy little estate just outside the city. It’s got everything we could need: workshops, farm plots, plenty of room to stash our loot. But more than that, it feels like a place where I can finally rest. A place where I don’t have to hide what I am, where I’m surrounded by people who appreciate me, fangs and all.

I never thought I’d find a home like this, somewhere I could actually feel safe. But here I am, lying in a bed that’s all mine, with the warmth of the hearth keeping the chill at bay. It’s strange, feeling like I belong somewhere, but I have to admit, it’s not a bad feeling. And knowing that I’ll be fighting alongside them tomorrow, the day after, and the day after that, well… it almost makes me forget the darkness that still clings to me.

But I can’t forget, can I? I’m still a vampire, still cursed, still bound to the night. Yet, here in this little home on the outskirts of Whiterun, with Jon and the others by my side, I’ve found a sliver of peace. I’ll hold onto that as long as I can, because who knows when the shadows might come calling again. Until then, I’ll keep fighting, keep seducing, keep surviving. It’s what I do best, after all.