This journal should hopefully tie up the rest of my story. I know that there are still some gaping holes throughout the three volumes and hopefully I can patch them all up if I ever decide to make a final copy of this whole story. All in all, I had a lot of fun with this and I hope you all have had as much fun reading it as I have creating it.

PS - Careful, this is a long read. Sorry for the length but there was really no point where it would make sense to chop it up into sections.



The wind blows hard in the frozen north. Time seems to slow as if it were itself frozen from the harsh weather. The mountains are as beautiful as I remember them but no feeling of joy passes my heart. Nothing really stirs me anymore. With the blood of so many on my hands, I have no reason to feel any joyous emotions. I will never be accepted amongst the normal. I will never blend into a crowd and pass unnoticed for everyone has their questions, their theories, their preconceptions. Do I blame them? I shouldn’t. I am what I have made myself out to be. A victim of decisions made in my past.

I have dragged this body, my own and one other for miles and miles. Time and distance have no bearing on me anymore. I have nowhere to go, nothing pressing that should see my attention. I can only hope that I fall to age within years or succumb to the frozen mountains of the north for I cannot seem to die as I would wish to do. I have starved myself, thrown my body from the highest reaches, nothing seems to work. Perhaps it is the work of the divines keeping me alive so that I can be properly tortured for what I have done in my past.

I have punished myself by dragging the armored body of my dearest friend, who had fallen at my side, but more importantly, by my blade. It has been far more than ten years ago that I was cursed to live this life, I may not know exactly the time…but I remember it as though it was only yesterday.

Do I share this story with you? I would prefer not, but in this journal I write my thoughts so that some day, people can know the history of myself and my deceased ally. I am confident that he himself has finished many a text of his own journeys but as madness once again takes me by my free hand, I fear there may be no one left to tell the final story, to give the answers that so many have been looking for.

I can remember waking from what seemed like an eternal slumber, opening my fatigued eyes to see a gathering of people I did not recognize. One man seemed vaguely familiar, and he was most concerned about my health. After a lengthy bout of question and answer, I learned that for the past many years, I had been trapped in this man’s own body, and that he was a prisoner in mine. I realized how the man looked familiar because in theory, I was staring at myself.

I learned the man’s name was Alexander Moorcroft, and he had been tracking me and battling me for years. He informed me that I had been a pawn of a powerful Daedric Prince and that I had been working under his influence to kill countless numbers of people in his own name. He told me that I was not unlike a Prince of Daedra myself, with powers too incredible and devastating to mention. He informed me that he had fought harder than any living soul could fight and that he even lost an arm in combat with me. Naturally as a self-respecting soul would think, I was mortified. To think that my last memory was of being tossed to my death and awoken by horrifying beasts, I though I was dead!

Sadly, I was not dead. Far from it to say the least and in addition, I was responsible for more deaths than recent plagues and diseases. Alexander informed me that I had single handedly slain more than twenty percent of Morrowind, including more than seventy percent of the entire province’s militia. A sadistic and truly evil man would have been proud. To say the least, I would have been proud in my former state but in my true frame of mind, the real me for a lack of a better term…I was repulsed at my actions, ashamed of my weakness and pained for the deaths I caused.

Known only to myself, later that evening as I was left to gather my thoughts; I tried to end my life. With a swift motion, a letter opener that was located on a desk in my temporary living quarters in Frostcraig Spire was my tool as I let it dance across my throat.

The pain was there, the sensation of bleeding to death was evident but barely any blood seeped from my veins. It was like I had been bled dry. I knew the wound was severe, I could feel the edge of the device tearing through my flesh. Looking upon a full mirror, I could see that my wound had healed as fast as it had been formed. Traces of blood remained but little was left as a testament to my attempt of severing myself from this existence.

Was it the powers of the souls I had stolen? Was it through being in service to Molag Bal? Was it the gods seeing to it that I suffer for my actions in the past? Whatever forces were at work in me, I wasn’t pleased because my fate now is worse than any degree of death.

As time passed, as we had gathered a caravan destined for Vvardenfel to try and restore some order in the midst of the chaos I had created there, I would often have visions of my former self. Visions of the death and destruction, visions of the many people whose life I had so brutally snatched from them and most painstakingly, visions of Molag Bal tormenting me from his throne in the depths of his own realm.

Between Alexander telling me saddening tales of my path, and my own visions I was beginning to fill in the gaps in my history. I know now how we came to reside in each other’s bodies. I know how I came to be in service to Molag Bal. The entire journey that brings me to this point is all frighteningly clear to me now mocking me and taunting me with each breath I take….


Time rolls by me as I wander the wilderness, still clutching my fallen friend by his one remaining hand. I do so like I mentioned as punishment to myself, a burden I place upon myself so that I may never forget my past. I carry his sword, sheathed to my side. A powerful relic that should never grace the hands of one willing to use it for harm and truthfully, this sword has such a strong presence that I myself am not even deserving of carrying it although I will never raise it in battle for as long as I live.

His mighty armor is deeply scarred from his final battle, a large gash in the breastplate where my friend’s god-like heart once beat. The blood from the wound had been washed by myself but the tint of his life essence still stains the polished gold in a streak where it had flowed before pooling before his lifeless body. The strike delivered had ended the life this body once housed and the one that delivered the final blow was me.

Alas, the truth must be told at some point. If I am to ever detail the events of our final battle I will have to do so before I am unable to. Truthfully, I was the one to deliver the final strike to this body but it is not as it would seem. Our final battle with the dark one; the one I know only as Jiub proved to be much more powerful than we could imagine. His body remained protected by a thick mercury-like substance that could shape itself as Jiub willed. It could harden to take on properties of ebony but was as light as mithril. The substance that was revealed to us as a gift from Molag Bal was named the blood of Molag Bal.

The Blood of Molag Bal was actually a powerful artifact, a deep red stone that was etched by powerful Daedra worshippers as a testament to the destruction caused by his soul harvest, my soul harvest. The artifact was magically enchanted and could grant those with superior magicka a full set of this liquid-like bound armor. This gift, created by the followers of Molag Bal was actually destined for my own use, so that I might be capable of delivering exponentially more souls to their god. Luckily I had fought my way from his grasp.

The armor proved time and time again to be far superior to anything we had ever seen. Each time a successful strike was made, the armor would absorb the impact, distributing it across the whole surface and making it seem like we barely touched Jiub himself. This battle stretched the entire Province as we continued to battle this demon relentlessly. Each time we fought, it seemed that Jiub increased in strength. After weeks of continuous battle, Alexander had decided that a strategy was in order. I heard his plan, but I did not care for it.

Alexander had decided that there would only be one way we could successfully destroy Jiub. My dear friend would have to call upon the blessing of Azura once again to switch their bodies so that I could catch Jiub off guard and slay him in his new shell. It would mean that Alexander would be trapped in the body of the evil Dunmer demon but he explained to me that it would be the one sure chance to destroy him and sever Molag Bal’s final link to our realm. Since the Blood of Molag Bal gem worked on the will of the wearer, Alexander would simply call it to return to the actual gem casement itself where we would then destroy it.

Alexander reassured me that he had been forced to adjust to a new body once before and while it was rough, a fact that I know as well; Alexander thought that it would be better for him to return to his family a Dunmer than not return at all. With a semi-confident nod, I gave Alexander confirmation that I was ready to launch the plan. I would have to keep the demon busy while my ally conjured up all of the power he had to expend.

With a brilliant flash of light, Alexander’s magicka released from his hands like gleaming stars in a midnight sky. His eyes glowed white with power and his body was surrounded with a powerful aura of blues, reds and yellows. Not wanting to miss this spectacular event, I looked over my shoulder after delivering a staggering blow to Jiub just in time to see a vaguely familiar scene.

With his arms outstretched, palms facing Jiub, my comrade begins chanting while a crackling ball of mass collects before him. Pure magicka in its most powerful form is gathered, being drained from Alexander’s body in a final attempt to eradicate this demon. I turn back around, glancing blows from my enemy, keeping his occupied in order to give Alexander time to perform his soul switch. The time neared and I could feel the burn of Alexander’s magical essence as it grew in intensity in only a matter of seconds. With timing needing to be critically perfect, I ducked out of the way even before my ally had time to warn me.

Call it premonition, call it a battle sense, call it luck even; but when I could see the look on my partner’s face, the glimmer in his eyes, I knew that he needed me to move and with a quick change in stance, I jumped out of the way and rolled into position for the second part of our plan. Time was still of the essence and things had to go exactly as planned without fail or the entire ploy would fail. I regained my stance by the exhausted hero as the brilliant magicka engulfed our enemy. Jiub howled in pain as the swirling aura swarmed him, swallowing him in a never ending sea of arcane energy.

Suddenly, the magicka seeped into every hole of Jiub’s face; forcing its way into his mouth, ears, nose and eyes. Within a fraction of a second, the magicka was gone, leaving only the Dunmer behind. The demon’s eyes opened and blinked once before shouting my name. I knew that the spell was a success and knew that it was my turn to take the last measure in the plan. Without delay I stepped forward and buried the full length of my blade into the heart of Alexander’s body.

Seconds that passed beyond this point churned on like hours making each beat of my heart echo in my chest. Did I kill Jiub? Or had the spell failed and left me with the blood of my dearest friend on my blade. As the body of Alexander fell to the dusty Ashland ground before my feet, I was greeted by the body of Juib, struggling to control the Blood of Molag Bal.

I ran to the aid of my body switched ally and watched as the swirling, ever shifting liquid armor began retreating into a blood red amulet that was around the neck of the Dunmer. It only took moments for the entire suit of twisted liquid bound armor to fully entrap itself in the mighty gem and as soon as it did, Alexander in Jiub’s body handed me the amulet and asked that I destroy it.

My friend looked as though he would give in to death at any second. His eyes were blank and the shock of seeing his body slain before him was making him tremble badly. To be technical, it was truly my original body that had been slain, but as one that has come to terms with my new self, I no longer considered it mine. Alexander on the other hand had just switched bodies and awoke in the shell of Jiub just in time to see his own heart skewered.

As confusing as it is to describe, so to would it be to experience it first-hand. The fact that Alexander had traversed through three different bodies in his lifetime was a traumatic event even if only done once. I could remember how distraught I was in the beginning. Not knowing how to control your own movements, not knowing what resided in your new shell. You begin to think that your thoughts aren’t even your own and that you were just merely an observer, watching this new body perform on its own.

My friend was certainly taking it quite badly. Each time he looked down at his hands, he would laugh, partially because the threat of Molag Bal was over, but then his fit of laughter would turn quickly to tears, knowing that he would never be accepted by his love and children. He continually begged for me to kill him the entire time it took us to travel back to Cyrodiil. He was ashamed at the evil shell he resided in; his face was twisted and evil looking to him. His heart, he said was tainted with demons.

I tried on many occasions to inform him that I myself had those feelings after being returned to my normal state. It was actually Alexander who had given me the motivation to carry on and now I watch him as he shakes, wanting to tear the flesh from his body just because madness was creeping up on him.

It took us quite a many days, traveling on roads less traveled upon to get us back to Cyrodiil where we belonged. Alexander began getting quite violent towards the end of our journey and quite often would lash out at me hoping I would retaliate. His strength was frightening and because of his further descent into madness, he was becoming quite a menace to himself and the world around him. With constant begging for me to take his life, I knew that he would eventually do something stupid so I made the decision that we would camp out in the north of Cyrodiil for the night so that we could decide what we were going to do.

This was the last stop before we reached civilization once again. I wanted to wait and see if he would become more violent and decided that dealing with him here would be smart so that none would suffer from the actions that would eventually unfold. Deep down, I knew that the time would come where I would have to calm his restless soul. His shaking was becoming more and more intense and I would often find him rambling about the “evils”. Alexander was a mess and while I didn’t want to admit it to myself, I would not be able to bring him back to his family in this state.

I wracked my brain, thinking of alternatives. Thinking that maybe I could get the help of Telina or Aeriandala to soothe his raging mind but in the end, the decision for the final outcome was not made by me.

Morning came and I was awoken by the rumbling sound of fire magicka outside of my makeshift tent. Groggily, I crawled out into the chilling mountain morning air to see Alexander casting fire magicka only to attempt foolishly to outrun it and have it strike him down. Anyone in their proper frame of mind would have just stabbed themselves especially since he had a short sword strapped to his side at the time. Trying not to laugh, I got to my feet and walked over to the poor soul and tried to calm him down.

“I told you that you need to kill me! Spill my blood right here Taillus I am ordering you!” The poor man explodes as he grabs me by the collar, shaking me violently. I was through with killing, no matter what the reason and I was still determined to find a way to save my friend at any cost. Alas, not all things are within one’s control and even if I had time to stop it, I believe now that this might have very well been the best outcome given the situation.

Without warning, Alexander pushes me away before a twisted grin crossed his face. It made a chill snap down my spine and the poor soul began laughing hysterically. Fearing he would escape my watch and terrorize a nearby town, I drew my blade waiting for the worst.

I told him, begged him rather to stop whatever it was he was planning on doing. I explained that I was still not going to kill him no matter what his twisted mind had come up with to convince me otherwise. Alexander was a dangerous man to those he faced, now his mind was sick and he could turn at any point. I began to see how he had felt in times past where I had not been in my correct frame of mind and how frightening it was to face someone capable of doing almost anything.

Seeing him in battle against Jiub, seeing how fiercely he fought made me wonder how I had even survived in the past. The fact that a man, mortal as the rest was able to withstand so much and yet, still stand before me was astounding. Perhaps he wasn’t mortal at all. One as strong as him must have blessed blood but unfortunately, the blessing was now cursed, tainted by madness and corruption. Had it not been so cold, I may have shed a tear, The emotions were there, but my body wasn’t capable of crying I don’t think. The years of massacring and slaying must have robbed me of real emotions.

I watched my friend turned enemy as his eyes scanned mine; both of us locked in a stalemate. I seemed to be immortal from what we have all experienced, and I was refusing to kill him. It was a true stalemate that was tearing at my nerves but like I had mentioned previous, the final decision was not made by me.

Alexander struck out, extending his free hand as it released a powerful bolt of magicka. I could tell right away what he was planning and I was helpless during it all. Alexander had cast upon me a spell of paralysis, silence, and a reflection spell. As my knees buckled and I began to fall forward, he launched his final attack. The very last spell I would ever see him cast. His own true Elemental Trifecta. The raging swirl of red, yellow and blue energy screamed in my direction only to be deflected with a blinding flash of brilliant white light and sent whirling back at him.

It was over in seconds. His own attack was deflected by the godly powerful reflect spell he had cast on me, the resulting backlash finally laid him to rest just as he had wished all along. His body fell to the snow, smoldering and frozen; still twitching from the lightning current that still flowed through him. It was not a heroic death, but truly, Alexander was a mighty hero that should and will be remembered by many….

I write this journal for his children, Torin and Taya Moorcroft. For his true love Merin and all of his Blue Lions. The final tale that he could not tell as told by the man that witnessed it all. I know that my past has skewered my credibility but you can find proof at Frostcraig Spire where his dunmer body lays. His better known body is carried by me, shackled to my left arm as I drag it wherever I roam. It is a punishment I have bestowed upon myself, the burden of carrying him until I find a place suitable to lay a godly hero to rest.

Wow, that was epic. So even though our heroes defeated Juib, a bitter ending is had by all. I just hope some consolation is found by Taillus writing this. It was very interesting to read, very gripping.

Beautiful, wery emotional masterpiece that one.
The force flows strongly through that one it does. (couldnt resist mate )

I must say it was interesting, but as for the length I have read longer (opening battle of Tailus story hehe ) so dont dorry about that.

And now that the story of Taillus and Alexander is finished I must say that you have created an epic portions of Elder Scrolls fanfiction, and I must say that your story deserves a spot on the main page (in my oppinion at least)

A Jona for you and a Tellie as well.

Oh me oh my! A Jona and a Tellie!? I am honored. I think a large revision is in order before this story hits the main page. Adding some, taking lots out. There are a handfull of broken plots that need to be eliminated plus a few events that are irrevalent so I will work away on a final version and if it happens to wind up on the main page, well that would be super duper

PS - Thanks to all that actually read the entire story. I couldn't have completed the entire thing without everyone's support.

PS#2 - We have not seen the last of Taillus the character just yet so you know, he has one more little adventure to tie the whole thing together.

Bittersweet victory, it seems.

Nice work as always, that's all I can think of for now. I definitely didn't see the soulswitch coming. Not again anyway.

That was very amazing. I hope to read the rest of what you have written. It is going to be an interesting read now that I know the end...

These stories have not only intertwined, but have evolved from a basic game journal to your own story emerging in a powerful write that shows your growth as a writer from the early books of these stories. I am in awe of how you wove them into each other! Awesome Write !!