Note/L10N/Frostcrag_Reborn/3.0.6/Books/frTelanJournal?
本文 † 
原文 †
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<br>
<br>
10 A.A.
<br>
I am Telan Highcourt. It had been many years since any emissaries from the surface had visited Avalon. We began to believe the worst had befallen. That we were alone in the world. Many left to go to the surface. None returned. Despair set in. That was when Tyras the Great was born. He was still so very young when he discovered that the power of the shardan crystals could be harnessed directly. He chose to study it further, and enhance his own abilities with the power. This was subversion. This was the beginning of the end of us all.
<br>
It wasn't long before he had become a minor god in his own right. The power of the shardan crystals coursed through his veins. The people saw this, and coveted it. They followed in his footsteps. He showed them the way. But his was a heart turned towards a greed for power. He did not show them all he had learned. He changed the formula, to make them his perpetual servants and slaves. In the dark he bound us all. He truly was master and father, god and king. He was a fool. For the power corrupted us all. And him most of all.
<br>
But it was not his fault that Avalon fell. For you see, I had a chance to stop the catastrophe, and chose to do nothing. I bear an equal blame for this, even though He is the one that perpetrated the horror. I knew the lies he spoke, even though he himself did not. His was an error of arrogance, believing that he could control the power with such precision. We have all payed for that arrogance. Mine was a sin of silence. I knew that no living being could control that much power, and yet I chose not to speak. He was like a god, his presence already augmented by the crystals, how could I dare speak out against him? And yet, I still should have. I was weak when I should have been strong. It was only when it was too late that I acted, and only to punish, not to correct the error that was mine to share. There were forty of us who acted to punish our lord and god. We won that battle by luck and deceit, or else we would not have prevailed. You see, I stole his ring. His power is such that he can force your very essence from the world. Banishing you from nirn, and leaving you to rot in the nothingness that lies between worlds, the netherplane. Without his ring, which acts to protect the wearer from this terrible power, I myself would be rotting in the netherplane, for I led the charge wearing his ring and drew his attack so that the others could survive long enough to prevail. Only Ten of us survived the battle, and ten of us imprisoned him beneath firaga dorn forever. The other nine could not turn away from the crystals, their addiction to it's power was too complete, too final, and they turned away from my cries of abstinence and have subsumed and become fiends. A few survive in a form hideous to behold. They were the powerful ones, they were the mighty who have been brought low. These powerful ones become lords of death in their own right, and haunt the halls of Anteriori even now. They were my only companions for so long, and now they are destroyed! Oh how I hate him!!! His arrogance has cost us our very souls! <br>
In truth, though I condemn my own soul to admit it, I should share his prison with him. He will not die, at some far future date as I will. His is the greater punishment.
<br>
123 A.A.
<br>
I have lost track of time, I believe it to be around the year 123 after the Fall of Avalon.<br>
I dare not stray too far from my quarters for fear that the degenerate rabble, the crystal leeching fiends, will flay me alive. I have no need of sustenance. But at least I can die. I was one of the fortunate. I had stopped leaching from the crystals long before I was turned into one of them. For this I am still mortal, capable of death. But the need for mortal food left me and I have become nearly a god. The price to pay is too great to think about. I still feel the need to consume that power. But I can curb the appetite. I was one of the fortunate ones.<br>
<br>
The fiends outside cannot help their own condition. They will continue to rot forever. Their minds are gone, taken by the unquenchable thirst that has consumed them. They are like nothing I had ever imagined possible. For they can only quench their thirst on the pure mana flow that emanates from the shardan crystals. The very crystals they have forgotten how to use, for their minds are gone, they lack even the power of speech. And so they rot, craving something they can never consume. Their power has deserted them, and they are weak. But still they cannot die. So much for dreams and promises of a joyful and endless existence. My only solace is that He is forever trapped, forever imprisoned, let him spend his endless existence in solitude, with only the freezing cold, the searing heat, and the guardians to keep him company.
<br>
<p>
<br>
<p>
300 A.A. or is it 400? I am no longer certain.
<br>
I hear footsteps in the deep. I hear voices. Have my fellow citizens finally found my hidden hall? How much time has passed? A hundred, a thousand years and I wouldn't know the difference. What is the passage of time for one who has peeked at the eternities and shunned it. This perpetual existence begins to drive me mad. I fear I will become one of the fiends after all.
<br>
<p>
A man! he spoke a strange language. I killed him. I drank his blood but it did not quench the thirst. I knew it would not. I had to try. From where did he come from, from when? Or did he kill me? I cannot tell anymore. The drawl of this existence begins to wear on me.
<br>
<p>
The drawl. the endless drawl of existence. I heard someone panting and snarling, startled I sat up out of my stupor, but found it to be only myself.
<br>
<br>
Panting snarls, and drawls. When I sleep, I know that I do not, that my mind merely goes to another place, and I am still awake. That is all of me now. I now know I am mad, but what difference does it make. The drawls, and the snarls, they begin to speak to me, to sing. I think it is beautiful.
<br>
<br>
I awoke in a strange room. I knew it for what it was immediately. The antechamber to The spiral stairs of Anteriori. The mile long tunnel to the surface. The journey to the top should take a very long time. But I felt like I had just been there. At the top. I could see it like in a dream. I am mad. The snarls and drawls are like a music. A blissful music that lulls me to sleep. It is the song of madness. And yet I embrace it.
<br>
<br>
A man. Perhaps I will not kill him this time. Or is he a different man? I cannot tell.
<br>
<br>
1000 A.A.
<br>Has a thousand years truly passed? What is to become of me? Ten years pass in a stupor, in a madness induced sleep. I dream of fighting, of killing the fiends, I awake with their blood still on my lips. We fight on, and the centuries pass us by. Do they truly die when I kill them, or is this an endless existence where we are killed and then reborn only to be killed again. Have I died and been reborn myself?
<p>
The man is dead. At the very least I cannot find him. It seems he was with me for a very long time. Years may have passed, as I sat talking with him.<br>
I remember now. My madness overtook me time after time, but he did not seem to mind. When I came to he was still there, talking to me as if nothing abnormal had occurred. He was lucky I didn't kill him in my madness. For he was so very very weak. Like gossamer, like a fleeting weak thing, I could almost see through him. I could have snuffed him like a candle. But there is no comparison for the un-quickened and those like me. We were nearly gods, no longer mortal. I believe I drove him mad with all my ranting's. Or was that me? My thirst, it is so unbearable. If I find him, I think I will drink his blood. It cannot hurt to try.
<br>
Sanity returns slowly to my mind. It is fleeting, and while it lasts I explore my surroundings. The once great Avalon is a ruin. Crumbling slowly in this forgotten place. I hear the song of madness creeping upon me...
<p>
The time is bliss, the pant and drawl, the snarl and pant. A thousand years went by as if nothing were a miss. Have I finally died. When will something end this all? Or am I dead already and haunting my final resting place? Time slips by ever more quickly and then slowly. The crystal fiends grow fewer and fewer. Is the endless existence we were cursed to bear finally coming to an end? How long is eternity? A thousand years, or has it been two thousand. Three would not surprise me...
<br>
<br>
panting snarl, panting drawl. The crawl, the endless crawl of time, is there no end? will someone kill me for I have tried. I have cut my own throat a thousand times. I pass out, but I awaken unharmed. Fire sears my flesh, but I cannot bear the pain.
my body aches from the memory of a ten thousand self-inflicted mortal wounds. I forget in my madness that I am immortal. the drawl, the snarl will soon consume me again. <br>
The crystals, they call to me, my thirst it grows. I still know the way. I must not, for If I do, soon I will be rotted so completely that my sanity will leave me, and I will never die, unable to quench the thirst in my curse.
<br>
<br>
Finally, I believe I sense the end. My bones break so easily now. Perhaps the quickening of the crystals has begun to weaken for me. I still heal quickly, but I feel less power emanating from myself.
<br>
I walk the halls of Avalon unhindered now. The crystal fiends act as if I no longer exist. Perhaps I am merely a ghost. I have asked myself this many times. But I still feel pain. Only Tyras himself achieved such a quickening of his body that he transcended all pain. I cannot be dead, though I wish it were not so.
<br>
<br>
I must have learned a new language from the man. Or was it many men? I seem to recall many faces, strange faces. Hundreds of them I must have met over the years. Speaking to me with such urgency. There seem to be gaps in my memory. Time crawls on so slowly? Or does it drawl on, pantingly? I fear for those who chance upon a meeting with me. They must think me harmless in my madness. But where do they come from? Are they from the surface world, so far away. I think I will kill the next one. Ask a few questions from it's corpse...the dead never lie.
<br>
I have rewritten my journal in a fleeting moment of sanity. the old one began to crumble to dust. Many pages were lost. Where did I get this new book? From One of the men who visit this tomb of mine...they think me some sort of god I believe. Where did they go? Did I kill them? I seem to remember tasting blood upon my lips. In my madness I may have killed them. I have become one of the fiends...my thirst grows ever more unquenched, like a gnawing aching hunger.
<br>
panting snarl, panting drawl. The shining one sees and kills us all. His power was firm,his might unmatched, he sits even now in a prison detached. He cannot escape, unless by some might, but they will be sorry, and killed in their fright. He is unstoppable, He is a God!
<br>
訳文 †
【訳文記述エリア】
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<br>
<br>
10 A.A.
<br>
私はTelan Highcourt。最後に地表からの使者がここAvalonを訪れてから、もう何年も経過した。仲間達も、世界からの完全な孤立という最悪の事態を信じ始めている。地表へと旅立った者も多いが、戻って来た者は皆無だ。皆が絶望に打ちひしがれていた。そして『偉大なるTylas』が誕生したのはそんな時期だった。彼は若くしてshardan crystalsの力を直接取り入れる方法を発見し、研究を進め、自らの力を増幅するのに成功した。これが、私達全員にとっての終わりの始まりだった。
<br>
It wasn't long before he had become a minor god in his own right. The power of the shardan crystals coursed through his veins. The people saw this, and coveted it. They followed in his footsteps. He showed them the way. But his was a heart turned towards a greed for power. He did not show them all he had learned. He changed the formula, to make them his perpetual servants and slaves. In the dark he bound us all. He truly was master and father, god and king. He was a fool. For the power corrupted us all. And him most of all.
<br>
But it was not his fault that Avalon fell. For you see, I had a chance to stop the catastrophe, and chose to do nothing. I bear an equal blame for this, even though He is the one that perpetrated the horror. I knew the lies he spoke, even though he himself did not. His was an error of arrogance, believing that he could control the power with such precision. We have all payed for that arrogance. Mine was a sin of silence. I knew that no living being could control that much power, and yet I chose not to speak. He was like a god, his presence already augmented by the crystals, how could I dare speak out against him? And yet, I still should have. I was weak when I should have been strong. It was only when it was too late that I acted, and only to punish, not to correct the error that was mine to share. There were forty of us who acted to punish our lord and god. We won that battle by luck and deceit, or else we would not have prevailed. You see, I stole his ring. His power is such that he can force your very essence from the world. Banishing you from nirn, and leaving you to rot in the nothingness that lies between worlds, the netherplane. Without his ring, which acts to protect the wearer from this terrible power, I myself would be rotting in the netherplane, for I led the charge wearing his ring and drew his attack so that the others could survive long enough to prevail. Only Ten of us survived the battle, and ten of us imprisoned him beneath firaga dorn forever. The other nine could not turn away from the crystals, their addiction to it's power was too complete, too final, and they turned away from my cries of abstinence and have subsumed and become fiends. A few survive in a form hideous to behold. They were the powerful ones, they were the mighty who have been brought low. These powerful ones become lords of death in their own right, and haunt the halls of Anteriori even now. They were my only companions for so long, and now they are destroyed! Oh how I hate him!!! His arrogance has cost us our very souls! <br>
In truth, though I condemn my own soul to admit it, I should share his prison with him. He will not die, at some far future date as I will. His is the greater punishment.
<br>
123 A.A.
<br>
I have lost track of time, I believe it to be around the year 123 after the Fall of Avalon.<br>
I dare not stray too far from my quarters for fear that the degenerate rabble, the crystal leeching fiends, will flay me alive. I have no need of sustenance. But at least I can die. I was one of the fortunate. I had stopped leaching from the crystals long before I was turned into one of them. For this I am still mortal, capable of death. But the need for mortal food left me and I have become nearly a god. The price to pay is too great to think about. I still feel the need to consume that power. But I can curb the appetite. I was one of the fortunate ones.<br>
<br>
The fiends outside cannot help their own condition. They will continue to rot forever. Their minds are gone, taken by the unquenchable thirst that has consumed them. They are like nothing I had ever imagined possible. For they can only quench their thirst on the pure mana flow that emanates from the shardan crystals. The very crystals they have forgotten how to use, for their minds are gone, they lack even the power of speech. And so they rot, craving something they can never consume. Their power has deserted them, and they are weak. But still they cannot die. So much for dreams and promises of a joyful and endless existence. My only solace is that He is forever trapped, forever imprisoned, let him spend his endless existence in solitude, with only the freezing cold, the searing heat, and the guardians to keep him company.
<br>
<p>
<br>
<p>
300 A.A. or is it 400? I am no longer certain.
<br>
I hear footsteps in the deep. I hear voices. Have my fellow citizens finally found my hidden hall? How much time has passed? A hundred, a thousand years and I wouldn't know the difference. What is the passage of time for one who has peeked at the eternities and shunned it. This perpetual existence begins to drive me mad. I fear I will become one of the fiends after all.
<br>
<p>
A man! he spoke a strange language. I killed him. I drank his blood but it did not quench the thirst. I knew it would not. I had to try. From where did he come from, from when? Or did he kill me? I cannot tell anymore. The drawl of this existence begins to wear on me.
<br>
<p>
The drawl. the endless drawl of existence. I heard someone panting and snarling, startled I sat up out of my stupor, but found it to be only myself.
<br>
<br>
Panting snarls, and drawls. When I sleep, I know that I do not, that my mind merely goes to another place, and I am still awake. That is all of me now. I now know I am mad, but what difference does it make. The drawls, and the snarls, they begin to speak to me, to sing. I think it is beautiful.
<br>
<br>
I awoke in a strange room. I knew it for what it was immediately. The antechamber to The spiral stairs of Anteriori. The mile long tunnel to the surface. The journey to the top should take a very long time. But I felt like I had just been there. At the top. I could see it like in a dream. I am mad. The snarls and drawls are like a music. A blissful music that lulls me to sleep. It is the song of madness. And yet I embrace it.
<br>
<br>
A man. Perhaps I will not kill him this time. Or is he a different man? I cannot tell.
<br>
<br>
1000 A.A.
<br>Has a thousand years truly passed? What is to become of me? Ten years pass in a stupor, in a madness induced sleep. I dream of fighting, of killing the fiends, I awake with their blood still on my lips. We fight on, and the centuries pass us by. Do they truly die when I kill them, or is this an endless existence where we are killed and then reborn only to be killed again. Have I died and been reborn myself?
<p>
The man is dead. At the very least I cannot find him. It seems he was with me for a very long time. Years may have passed, as I sat talking with him.<br>
I remember now. My madness overtook me time after time, but he did not seem to mind. When I came to he was still there, talking to me as if nothing abnormal had occurred. He was lucky I didn't kill him in my madness. For he was so very very weak. Like gossamer, like a fleeting weak thing, I could almost see through him. I could have snuffed him like a candle. But there is no comparison for the un-quickened and those like me. We were nearly gods, no longer mortal. I believe I drove him mad with all my ranting's. Or was that me? My thirst, it is so unbearable. If I find him, I think I will drink his blood. It cannot hurt to try.
<br>
Sanity returns slowly to my mind. It is fleeting, and while it lasts I explore my surroundings. The once great Avalon is a ruin. Crumbling slowly in this forgotten place. I hear the song of madness creeping upon me...
<p>
The time is bliss, the pant and drawl, the snarl and pant. A thousand years went by as if nothing were a miss. Have I finally died. When will something end this all? Or am I dead already and haunting my final resting place? Time slips by ever more quickly and then slowly. The crystal fiends grow fewer and fewer. Is the endless existence we were cursed to bear finally coming to an end? How long is eternity? A thousand years, or has it been two thousand. Three would not surprise me...
<br>
<br>
panting snarl, panting drawl. The crawl, the endless crawl of time, is there no end? will someone kill me for I have tried. I have cut my own throat a thousand times. I pass out, but I awaken unharmed. Fire sears my flesh, but I cannot bear the pain.
my body aches from the memory of a ten thousand self-inflicted mortal wounds. I forget in my madness that I am immortal. the drawl, the snarl will soon consume me again. <br>
The crystals, they call to me, my thirst it grows. I still know the way. I must not, for If I do, soon I will be rotted so completely that my sanity will leave me, and I will never die, unable to quench the thirst in my curse.
<br>
<br>
Finally, I believe I sense the end. My bones break so easily now. Perhaps the quickening of the crystals has begun to weaken for me. I still heal quickly, but I feel less power emanating from myself.
<br>
I walk the halls of Avalon unhindered now. The crystal fiends act as if I no longer exist. Perhaps I am merely a ghost. I have asked myself this many times. But I still feel pain. Only Tyras himself achieved such a quickening of his body that he transcended all pain. I cannot be dead, though I wish it were not so.
<br>
<br>
I must have learned a new language from the man. Or was it many men? I seem to recall many faces, strange faces. Hundreds of them I must have met over the years. Speaking to me with such urgency. There seem to be gaps in my memory. Time crawls on so slowly? Or does it drawl on, pantingly? I fear for those who chance upon a meeting with me. They must think me harmless in my madness. But where do they come from? Are they from the surface world, so far away. I think I will kill the next one. Ask a few questions from it's corpse...the dead never lie.
<br>
I have rewritten my journal in a fleeting moment of sanity. the old one began to crumble to dust. Many pages were lost. Where did I get this new book? From One of the men who visit this tomb of mine...they think me some sort of god I believe. Where did they go? Did I kill them? I seem to remember tasting blood upon my lips. In my madness I may have killed them. I have become one of the fiends...my thirst grows ever more unquenched, like a gnawing aching hunger.
<br>
panting snarl, panting drawl. The shining one sees and kills us all. His power was firm,his might unmatched, he sits even now in a prison detached. He cannot escape, unless by some might, but they will be sorry, and killed in their fright. He is unstoppable, He is a God!
<br>
