» Thu Sep 15, 2011 2:08 am 
P.S. It sometimes skips several minutes or hours between sentences, thats because this is written out as if it was a real guy, just casually writing down whats on his mind in a Journal... no expert structure needed.
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Bought this nice looking journal and a jar of ink from a passer by Dunmer on my expedition around the citys of Skyrim. It only cost me two whole loafs of bread, its okay however, i've got enough to keep me going till i reach a settlement. I don't exactly know what to do with this thing but atleast it'll keep me entertained for now, who knows, it may make a nice little novel one day, the story of my epic scientific expedition and discovery, and i'll be sitting on the shores of Summerset with a pair of beautiful Altmer. Not much to do right now though. Just sit around the campfire untill i feel the urge to put this down and go to bed... or i just run out of ink... other than what ive already written not much else to tell really, though the mist seeping down the mountainside is making an early rest inside my wolfskin camper bed seem like a really pleasing thought. Its 2 hours later, ive just woken up to the most peculiar sound, i've decided it was most likely a mountain lion up ahead, it did'nt sound like any lion ive ever heard though, probably just caught a hog or something, they make such awful noises. If it was a lion however it must be very close to have been so loud, i'll have to keep my carving knife on me at all times, just incase. Havn't been able to sleep this past hour, looks like the sun is starting to rise, i'll be on my way soon. Just finished packing away my stuff, on my way i might stop off at a local villiage, i hear they usually have some delightful brews.
My mother always told me to keep to the roads when i was a child, why did i never listen to her? I heard the noise again but a few minutes ago, and curious as i am, i held my knife close and wen't to investigate, i tracked the noise to a small closing in the mountainside. I fooshily carried on, into the dark, just as a huge shadow ascended from above me, my heart froze as the silhouette of the huge... thing, was imprinted into my stone terrified mind. I ran as fast as i could... into here... the closing... i didnt exactly have a preffered destination aslong as it wasnt back out there. And even though i wasnt entirely sure it was even following me i wasn't going to stop to check! Im going to take a second to calm down, and check my surroundings. Okay, after that... event, i have found myself deep inside the closing, with just the light of a cloud dimmed sun above the open ceiling, i found myself surrounded by what at first looked like scratchings of an animal, i think now though, on closer inspection, i may have stumbled across something even bigger than my original plans for the further cause of Science. Just to make sure i don't lose this to some other scheming so called "scientist" at the acadamy, my name is Lucas Andre, i am a Breton, and my previous scientific project no longer matters, this is my new project, im thinking of entitling it... untill further research into the subject... "The Language Of The Dragon".
After a few hours of sitting in this enclosure, baffled by the strange, wonderful, and absolutely frustrating symbols infront of me, i have took a break from translating with such little research and have started thinking of the beast from before, according to legends and myths there is no way (and i do not believe) that it could have been a Dragon, the evidence however tells me otherwise, not to go into details now but if im going to devote and risk my life for this project, now would be a good time to start believing. Looking past my beliefs, for the sake of science, i am going to treat the beasts as if they are as real as the fear and excitment i am feeling now, see, my guess is that, like me, the Dragon was simply camping for the night, in this enclosure, somewhere dark, quiet, and not easily found and disturbed by travelers, the sounds i heard where most likely yawns, or warnings to nearby animals, and the carvings i found i have compared to my Journal, simply making a mark to show it was here for future generations. After sketching all my thoughts into this journal i am going to make my way to the nearest library (that is if this barbaric land even knows what a book is) and check for similar symbols or phrases i can use to further help my project.
Stroke of luck! I have arrived at a small villiage just a bit south (or was it north? These maps confuse me) from the Dragon enclosure, off of the moutain. I have come across an old nord man, whom i asked directions for the closest library, shorty after a series of odd replies i realised the man was obviously slightly mad in the mind, one word of his led to another and suddenly he was babbling about how he used to collect poems, i was just about to walk away, as he would have happily kept talking without even taking notice, if he hadn't mentioned that he preferably used to collect ones with funny symbols and pictures, a hobby of his, he knew not what they meant but according to him his collections are worth thousands, and this sounds like something i have to check out. Its been an hour of rummaging through these pile of books and paper, the only things i have came across are several old elven dialects, already common to today's world, and about as priceless as Mudcrab meat. I was just about to give up on the crazy old geezer when i came across a very familiar tattered old page in grey paper, and the text was obvious... it was, according to my research... Dragon. The text seems to be in the form of a poem, substituting letters for symbols, just like the carvings, i asked the old man where he found this piece, he simply replied that he bought it from a very old, and crafty, merchant dealer, along with a set of other elven poems, when he was young. It seems that i may never know how far back the symbols go, however that wont stop me from inspecting and researching these symbols like the world will end tomorrow! It may take a while, but by sun down you will be filled with mind blowing and revolutionising information my dear journal! 'Till tonight!
Okay, with hours of research (and a lot of loss of candle wax) i have come up with a complete guide to the distinguishing of the symbols, i have re-named the language of the symbols "Draconic" for more scientific referencing, here goes nothing...
Translating the language.
(For reference, the whole character will be reffered to as the symbol, and each design making up the symbol will be reffered to as the marking.) I can easily tell how many seperate symbols there are as each symbol has a slight distance between them. Each symbol is made up of either 3 or 4 markings, each marking is either what i call a "scratch" which i define as a short scratch moving towards the right or the left (i call the serrif) and then a more enlonged one down (i call the arm) but all still conjoined, this counts whatever rotation the marking is and it still keeps the same form. The arms, keeping their form, seem to differ in size, they seem to consist of four different arm size types which have different roles; large, big, medium and small (however keep in mind that however big the text is written it still keeps the principle of arm sizes), it is easier to judge the sizes of the different arm size types starting from 'large' which length wise ussually reaches the lowest and highest asendor of the invisible box i mentioned earlier, then 'big' which is around two thirds of the length of large, 'medium' which is always roughly half the size of big whatever rotation, then 'small' which is always written a bit bigger than the serrif, the serrifs all keep the exact same size (with the exception of it ussually being slightly smaller on the 'large' arm size type). Every large and small scratch always faces north, big scratches face either northeast or east and medium scratches are either north, south, or north west. Also to keep in mind any scratch pointing north, northeast and northwest all have the serif face to the left of the scratch (in terms of if they were to all be placed facing north) whilst east and south scratch serif face to the right (again, in terms of if they were to all be placed facing north). The other marking is what i call the "dot" and is far more simple than scratches as there is only one type of dot. The dot is just a small circle poked somewhere into the symbol with no differing size or rotation. A symbol is made up of either, three scratches, three scratches and a dot or two scratches and a dot. The scratches and dots must be written in specific positions for each symbol to be distinguished one from another. Each unique symbol must consist of the correct scratch position, size and rotation and correct dot position. Keeping this in mind should help distinguish one symbol to another. The written language (and each seperate symbol in paticular) is limited in complexity due to the fact that their original writers were constrained to three large talons which write the scratches and a dewclaw which marked the dot in the symbol.
Okay, i think im off to a good start, a long way to go though, my wrist is burning like the gates of Oblivion! I am going to buy this poem from the old man next sun dawn and continue my expedition for more research, i will have to try pretty hard to convince him to let it go (i hardly think the mad Nord would acknowledge if i was to simply slip out of town with it, but science is a fair game and doesn't cut corners!). For now im staying over in a local inn, everyone seems to look at me quite strange, i don't really trust them but I missed out on some vital hours of sleep last night, i'll have to be wide awake for the greatest breakthrough in Science now won't i? This morning i headed straight to the old Nord man, hes dead, or so i assume. Well, he wasn't in his shack when i knocked this afternoon so i waited around and took a walk round town for a while to see if he'd return any time soon, it wasn't until i heard a group of merchants on break talking about how "Jesper the Delusional" (whom appears to be the old Nord mans name and title) was seen by the local blacksmith, running off towards the mountains around midnight. Early in the morning strange noises where heard and Jesper had not returned. Now, i know what happened, but why he did it completely alludes me. Soon after i opened up his shack and found his poem collection in heaps on the floor, the only one that stood out coincedentally was the Dragon poem, with a knife through its corner and pinned into the wall, and hidden behind that when i removed it was another piece of paper i am studying right now which appears to write "ThEy spEEK to me. PictureS speak LOUDER tHaN words, and ThEESe pICturEs speek To me... LouDLY! NUST BAHLOK", and then a couple of badly drawn Draconic symbols under it, he is obviously mad and his spelling is terrible, nontheless im guessing by pictures he means the symbols, and if he knew what they meant perhaps he is better off dead, musn't let competition, even mad competition, get in the way, perhaps i can make something of those last words, perhaps they are the first Draconic words i yet to encounter, that or he was just trying to spell "Must Buy Lock", it would make sense as any one could have just come in here and encountered this precious evidence, i also encountered rough sketches on the wall, probably drawn in charcoal, of stick figures and giant winged creatures, a swirly effect seemed to be coming from the stick figures, but not from thier fingers, but from thier mouths, and it was aimed at the beasts, now is not the time for pointless specualtion on these obviously nonsense sketches, i will make a quick duplicate of them in the journal but then i must direct my attention to the more important Dragon poem. As for Jesper, the pressure of age and knowledge(?) most likely just got to him and hes probably in several bloody pieces by now resting peacfully in the stomach of the beast i encountered yesterday (if the strange noise the locals heard are anything to go by). For now i cant help but think the answer is lying right under my nose, however i suppose i must put my hand down, quill in bag and be on my way, where to? Only time will tell, and i fear i havn't much time left.
Same old, same old, i have come across yet another small mountain side town after a long and tiresome journey around the mountain side whilst i watched the sun fall and fall untill the sky turned grey and dark and the snow started to come in, the only difference being this one is much colder, perfect. Not too long after arriving i was met by a rather generous Nord and his buddys, who were on thier way to the tavern and offered to take me with them, i accepted in hope they would lead me out of this blizzard, as they walked and talked me through the villiage i noticed how quiet and lifeless it looked, this was untill i entered the doors of the tavern. The largest crowd of Nords i had ever seen at once, singing, and dancing, and drinking merrily, the whole villiage was here, bar the women and children (whom probably don't make up even half the population anyway). The taven had two floors, the second was open and was made up of balconies and the whole tavern had an orange light to it emenating from the firplace near the corner, and mammoth tusk lanterns near the bar, it was impossible to hear a single Nord as everyone was shouting or singing as loudly as possible with ale in hand and a story to be told. The Nord group i am with has sat me down with them at a large table and one of them handed me a "pint" which looked more like a keg, which cant be because one Nord was drinking a keg of ale which looked more like a silo. I have been sitting around the table talking to the Nord group, they certainly know alot of Breton jokes, its all in good humor though, the one sitting next to me would tell off any of them insulting me and then proceed to shoot his enourmous arm around in me in friendship, they are not how i expected, i thought one sight of a different race, especially with half Mer in me and i would be on the way to a violent grave, but they are actually a kind and good humored people, though if im honest i will be making my escape as soon as possible, im quite uncomforable being in a room of drunk titans.
Who would have thought? You certainly find answers in the most unussual places, but a few minutes since i arrived and i have already found my next lead. I jumped out of my skin when all the Nords in the tavern started banging thier fists against the tables in harmony (or as harmonic drunk barbarians can get) and begun to shout "ROGVARR, ROGVARR" continuously untill one Nord finally stood up as they other began to shout in joy, this Rogvarr seems to be the best story teller of the town as he began to sip his last few drops of ale before the whole tavern quited down, his old grey beard and missing eye portrayed he was one of age and knowledge. He told, in fierce shouts, of old Nordic warriors, ones who would gather together and speak ancient mysterious words, these words would explode out of thier mouths in great triumph with the ability to knock down city gates and destroy enemies without the use of weapons, these warriors named "Toungues" used something called "The Voice", however Rogvarr then went on to name it as "Thu'um" later on in the story, and this is something i am quite familiar with. It was what the drawings by that mad old Jesper where trying to tell me, Draconic, the mysterious language the Tounges used to speak, it is one and the same! My discovery has jumped me closer to the truth, tommorow i will gather what i can from these ancient warriors and there methods, but for now there is nothing to do but celebrate!
Hours, hours and hours, i really have lost trak of tiime, im talkinng to my Nord firend, and i have forgotton his name, hold on....... oh, his name is Tolgon, i just askeds him. I have had lots and lots of pints and.. its too much to count on my hands, and Tolgons hands, he justs tried for mee. Theye are funny, the fat one with the one leg just sed to me, hold on... it was erm. 'A breton and an a elf, erm a bossmer i think, was talking and the altme... no.. bosmer said, "its a shame that you cant have the power of being a full elf, and only half", and the breton said, "wel thats okay, its too bad you cant either"', HAHA, you know because bosmer are really small, like tiny, i had to ask him to exsplain that one to me. Oh well, i am going too go talk to my friendds again, ill see you later. okay?
My head... a few hours ago i woke up face down in the snow outside the tavern with a few of the Nords i met yesterday, i have had to wait a while for my head to get back together, i have forgotten everything that happened, which is why this journal is surely a blessing from the Gods. After reading my last thoughts before i was intoxicated i now see my chances of translating this poem are bigger than i ever imagined... Im going to wait a while and see if i can stop my head from burning so much and see if i can find this "Rogvarr", the storyteller, i encountered yesterday.
I just went to see Rogvarr, who still seems to be under effect from last night, he told me everything about the Tongues, everything that i have aready written down, and more, he seems to believe that these ancient warriors are none other than those that reside on the peak of High Hrothgar, the throat of the world. He also gave me a book to read on them (when he isn't looking i may rip out this paticular page). He also tells me that his ancestors where trained Tounges, and the technique died as each generation passed, he told me that, a key was passed down, from father to child, a key that would unlock a chest, he had no idea what it contained but supposedly the family legend goes, that when the last Tounge of the family was of old age, he supposedly stashed the best known secrets of the Thu'um and hidden them in a secret place within a chest and remained in this exact same house till death, along with the key a saying was passed on, "Home is where the heart is", and was simply passed on as a cheesy quote to carry on and respect the thoughts and memories of the ancient ancestoy... This chest may contain just the information i need, whilst the one-eyed codger is... "under the influence"... i will try and reason with him and see if i can get this key from his possesion... keep in mind im not "cutting a corner" in the forwarding of science here, i am simply... choosing a shorter route.
Stubborn old has-been! Even though he says that he says, and i quote, "I plan not on carrying on the family line, ale will keep me happy to the end of my days", he will not give up the key without a game, the game he insists on, is one that the villagers here seem to enjoy daily, a hunting challenge, each person will remain in the middle of the villiage and then finally released and only have two hours to hunt and display the corpse, of as many animals as possible. This is stupid beyond comprehension! How can he expect a man of science to be running around for the sake of this stupid primitave game, still... its all for a good cause, they equip me with thier own weapons and armour if i can supply none, which as we both know, i cant. Oh, look at me writing in conversation, i must be going more mad by the minute in this insane province, the call for science (and the provinces rare charms) however are keeping me here and i will not leave untill i have cracked the entire mysteries of these ancient Akaviri creatures. So... game on. Apparently.
Okay, im sitting here within the centre of the villiage, equipped with nothing but leather straps and pauldrons, my carving knife and a sword they supplied me with, whilst Rogvarr is sharpening his blades im wasting time writing in this Journal, how am i ever to kill more animals than this juggernaught? The contestants are not allowed to see each other once the game starts, fear that they start killing each other, so whilst he heads off into the forests ill make my way to the mountainside, maybe see if i can get myself one or two mountain lions, if not, run like hell. Oh, okay the game is about to start, here goes nothing...
Divine Intervention... science has nothing to do with it. Someone up there really wants me to get this key. Not too long after the game had started and i made my way back through the path i entered the villiage from, i came across the most beautful sight (well, it was most certainly beautiful for my current situation) a mountain of animal corpses, ripped to shreds, all for me, the Dragon must have left these here overnight because they stank to high heaven. I am going to wait maybe around an hour before i inform the Nords back at the villiage, i doubt the beast will return in the middle of the day. Summerset isles here i come!
The face on Rogvarr was something no mortal could put a price on, i ran back as fast as i could to see a heap of animal corpses under the "proud" foot of Rogvarr, this moment was not too last as i gathered the villagers to my catch, no rules in the game said i had to bring my kills back to the villiage, and so all stood in awe as they gazed upon my miracle, just barely reaching the average Nord villagers headheight. Without hesitation, Rogvarr unexpectedly bowed before me and insisted i take the key, he passed to me the key along with the words "Home is where the heart is"... and i knew, this was the work of the nine, the long line of Rogvarrs family led up to my moment, Rogvarrs home is where 'my' heart is, my hearts work, the secret to the Dragon language.
Whilst the Nords celebrated and danced around the corpses knowing tonight they will feast well on this banquet from the gods, i made my way to the house of Rogvarr just on the edge of the empty village, and pulled out each floorboard, one by one until... my mind cannot contain it, i dont know wether im shivering from anticipation or fear, but however it is, i have... hold on, im going to need both hands for this... just pulled the chest out of all the dirt and cobwebs precisly in the centre of the houses floor. Here goes nothing...
Through my mind, i just kept imagining that when i open this chest... i would see nothing but rocks and dust, and like always, i was correct... about the dust! These papers and books are filthy, filthy with forbidden knowledge!
Here, this one has a Draconic symbol cipher, and... this one seems to contain a series of ancient words of a sort. I must fit these books and scrolls within my bag without damaging them, and find somewhere quiet i can look over them thustly, my time is beginning to run out, who knows how many artifacts there are like this in the world, my whole project could be ruined if they were to fall into the wrong hands, i must crack the secret to the Voice now before i am beat to it, somewhere quiet, the tavern? No, no, not the tavern, the whole villiage will be svckling boar and fox and whatever else was in that meat heap. No, i must take this elsewhere, but where, i... hold on, a knock, no, a smash, what on Nirn are those villagers doing out there?
...Cold, its cold, its freezing, these pages need to be warmed up or they will get stiff and crack. I suppose i should mention why im in this cavern... Jesper, the old man who went missing a few nights ago, he was in that mountain of corpses, the one the Dragon had accumulated, it seems my theory on what happed to him is correct... and the Nords have ran me out of the village, they seem to think i did it! Well, i suppose the fact i told them i killed everything in the corpse pile has something to do with it. I cant show my face, they know my face all too well now, looks like this Dungeon is now my place of study. Best get studying.
Three days. It went quick. These writings. My mind is going all zombie over them, i need more, but this is all i have. When i put this journal down i will be right back on these writings, no sleep, no food, this book is all i have to keep the last remaining sane section of my brain i have left alive, i find it hard to even look at this journal anymore, but this journal, i will tell it everything i know about these symbols, words, the language as a whole. Then i must burn the scrolls, and the books, maybe it will snap me out of this blissful trance. I know, i know everything, the ancient Toungues knew everything, thats why this one wrote down everything he knew about it before he passed away, he knew we would need them, the Dragons, why are they returning? They are alot more intelligent than we would assume, they had a whole language, we know this, they could use this language to bend physics to thier will, its not magic, its... power. Its ancient, its beautiful, its something inside, we dont have to have a great skill in magic, anyone can use it, aslong as you practice it, for years, i plan on it, i will, i will be our salvation, the tropical beaches of Summerset will not be my reward, Godhood will, and when im old and grey and ready to rise to immortality, i will share this book with everyone, the whole of Nirn, this power will never die. Because i dont just read these words, they speak to me, they want me to let them out of thier eternal prison and into the world, this is my destiny, to carry these words into the world.
So. Without any further interuptions, here is my complete guide on the mysterious and wonderful language of the sacred beasts, we know, as Dragons.The Draconic alphabet consists of 33 single symbols; 22 of which that directly translate to the Tamrielic language of Men, except for "C", "Q", or "X" that, in Tamrielic, have no translation into the language of Dragon. 12 single symbols translate into pairs of letters. The only symbols succsefully translated as of now are;
A
aa
ah
B
D
E
ei
ey
F
G
H
I
ii
J
K
L
M
N
O
P
R
S
T
U
V
W
Y
Z
The language Draconic, itself has its own spoken language, other than just a written one, so the written Draconic alphabet cannot be written for Tamrielic spoken words and vice versa. Draconic phrases and sentences tend to place prepositional phrases earlier in sentences than English does, the language does not use tense, and there is no distinction between singular and plural. Linguistically speaking, the Dragon language is a simple word-for-word substitution cypher for Tamrielic, albeit with a slightly simplified morphology. Pronounciation of the words follow the same basic rules of pronounciation of Tamriel words, such as the way single letters are pronounced based on thier position within a letter. Some exceptions include "I" which is pronounced 'Ee', "J" which is pronounced 'Jsh', "U" which is pronounced as a slight cross between 'Uh' and 'Oo' (but sometimes emphasis is put on to either 'Uh' or 'Oo' for depending on the word). Now for paired-letter symbols, these symbols act as symbols such as "aa" and "ah" are pronounced 'Ah', the same as each other, "ey" is pronounced 'Ee', and "ii" is pronounced "Ih".
The scriptures have spoken and sung to me in great detail, and i have captured everyone of their beautiful words in this Journal, it is only a millionth of their vast vocabulary, but these words may help to converse with the beasts in the future;
A
Aan-A
Ahrk-And
Ahst-At
Ao- Wrath
B
Bahlok-Hunger
D
Dah-Push
Dein-Keep
Diivon-Swallow
Do-Of
Dova-Dragon
Dovahkiin-Dragonborn
Draal-Pray
F
Fah-For
Feyn-Bane
Fin-The
Fod-When
Fundein-Unfurled
Fus-Force
G
Graan-Rout
H
Hin-Your
Hon-Hear
J
Jun-Kings
K
Kein-War
Kiin-Child
Kel-Scrolls
Klo-Sand
Ko-In
Kogaan-Blessing
Krah-Cold
Krein-Sun
Kruziik-Ancient
L
Lein-World
Los-Is
Lost-Have
M
Mahfaeraak-Forever
Meyz-Come
Mu-We
N
Naal-By
Norok-Fiercest
Nus-Statue
Nust-They
O
Ok-His
P
Paal-Foes
Prodah-Foretold
R
Ro-Balance
S
Staadnau-Unbound
T
Tiid-Time
Tol-That
Thuum-Voice
U
Ui-Eternity
V
Vaal-Bay
Vahriin-Sworn
Ved-Black
Viing-Wings
Vokul-Evil
Vokun-Shadow
Voth-With
W
Wah-To
Win-Wage
Z
Zaan-Shout
Zeymah-Brothers
Zin-Honor
Zindro-Triumph's
These words can be focused into power known as "The Voice", "Thu'um", or "Dragon Shouts", those with this power can use these words to create multiple effects using only their voice, including relentless force balance pushes, or a more commonly known effect, fire breath. A list of some of these Dragon Shouts for example are:
FUS RO DAH- Force Balance Push
YOL TOOR KREIN- Fire Inferno Sun
IIZ SLEN NUS- Ice Flesh Statue
STRUN BAH AO- Wrath Storm Call
TIID KLO UL-Time Sand Eternity
And there are bound to be more devestating shouts like these! I can't contain it anymore, i've told you what i will, but not all, the rest are mine to keep, divinity belongs to me and no-one else! The secrets and legacy of the Dova are mine! NUST BAHLOK FAH UI! ALDUIN LOS MEYZ!
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Comments, complaints and such welcomed
P.S. Smack! Copyrighted, please ask and give credit if you wish to use this, i dont know, information for wikipedia maybe? Except for you Bethesda, you dont have to ask
(wishful thinking).P.P.S The joke on the drunk scene (section, paragraph, whatever) i made up myself, which i am quite proud of, it was: "A Bosmer walks up to a Breton and laughs 'Its a shame you only have the power of half an Elf' to which the Breton replies "Thats okay, its also shame on you aswell" .... Basically the Breton is calling the Bosmer small, hence "Half an elf"
... some Breton humor for you there. 
