Note/L10N/Verona_House_Bloodlines/12/Books/VHQ7Report?
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The guards brought me a cake today. It was to celebrate the 35th year of my reign over my kingdom. They call it Sanderion's Folly. I call it hell. Of
course it was like all things an elaborate joke. I do not fool myself. I do not rule here. How could I when I cannot leave this wing of the castle. I am
a prisoner. And of course I did not get to eat the cake. It was after all made with human blood. <br>
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I will need to be quick. I am being punished. I tried to escape again last night. The guards had become lax, and I managed to pick the lock of my
quarters. I made it as far as the castle courtyard. But the daedra that guard the external city drove me back. I ended up throwing myself on the mercy
of my Vampire guards. <br>
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I am sure that many will think that I deserve the fate I am experiencing. I am among them. I have been over those events so often. I recall vividly my
first meeting with Garn Vulna. I will not call him Lord. Of course it was not a true meeting. I had used Berunda's disguise potion. Why did she choose
not to reveal the nature of those visions. I no of course that image I saw was a false one. Human, young and so very charming. His argument for the
rights of vampires was so persuasive. I admit I was fooled by him <br>
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I have been punished for my escape attempt. They have taken away my furnishings; luckily I managed to hide the journal in a floor space, but I have no
doubt that like the others I have written they will find this. They will laugh at my expense and no doubt I will be whipped and tortured. In fact I am
counting on it.
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I cannot die. My guards take delight in this. They can bleed me with immunity. They can whip and beat me. Burn me, cut me, and I heal. But I feel every
cut, every stab, every wound.
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I kept taking the potion and I keep meeting Vulna. I often ask myself, did I continue to use the potion so I could talk to him. I found the
conversations dazzling and enlightening. We talked of ancient lore and the state of the nation. We talk most of all about immortality. Over time I began
to tease from him his secret. I keep it now. It is my only bargaining chip.
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I wish to die. Once again I have been told of the death of my son, Marimar. It is not the first time that they have told me tales of his death. It is
one of their favorite cruelties. The claim that he had become a pirate, and was executed in Anvil square for his crimes. The last time they told me he
had been killed trying to reach me here in the castle and that the Daedra had hung his body up for the birds to feast on. Tomorrow or next week they
will tell me some tale of Marimar's success. He is on the Elder Council but has renounced his family name. I know they are lies but I would rather face
a thousand lashes that that one cruel cut.
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Do you have recurring dreams? I do. The same dream over and over again. I am back in Silverhome awaiting the arrival of the Night Brethren agent. But,
instead of the near desolate bar it is crowded. Everyone I knew and loved is there and each turn to me a shake their heads. I hear their whispers.
Traitor!
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Today was a good day. I made it as far as the wood section of the Harbor town district before I was captured. For a few brief minutes I tasted freedom.
One of the houses was open and I managed to hide out. I was eventually tracked down, but it has given me hope. I will pay for this.
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What would it cost for you to sell your soul? Vulna promised me that he would not kill any of Berunda's party. He merely wanted to acquaint them with
the Vampire issue as he saw it. He convinced me that he wished to create peace between the Vampires and the untouched as he called them. He wished to
establish research to create a universal cure, and I believed him. Of course I did what I did for profit, but I extracted that promise first. He would
not harm any of the Night Hunters. And for myself. Immortality and a city to rule. I was young and such notions held great sway with me. So here I am.
Immortal, as long as I remain here in my gilded prison
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It has been three weeks since my last entry. I have been tortured beyond pain. I cannot even bring myself to write of the horrors I endured. But through
it all I kept repeating a simple mantra. I will escape, I will wither, and I will die.
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I HAVE FOUND THIS JOURNAL HIDDEN IN THE TRAITORS ROOM. I AM SENDING IT TO ANIN SULLIA FOR PROCESSING. THE TRAITOR WILL BE PUNISHED SEVERELY FOR THIS
CRIME. I AM CONCERNED ABOUT THE IMAGE AT THE BEGINNING. IT MAY SIMPLY BE AN ABSTRACT DRAWING OR IT MAY HOLD MORE SIGNIFICANCE
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