3rd day, 2nd ride, March, 1372 DR
We spent the morning talking to Duran, an elder of the Brightblade clan, living in Daggerfalls, considered the nominal leader of the dwarven community in Daggerfalls. He told us about the decades, if not centuries old fued between the Brightblade clan and the Morn family, which has been put to rest by the efforts of Randall Morn. He also told us about Marron, a hermit living to the south-east of Daggerfalls, who is known to organise prize fights amongst animals, and is known to have trained dogs and perhaps wolves. We decided that the attack on the dwarves might have been in order to create dissent between the humans and dwarves.
The funny thing about food is that if you’ve grown up with enough of it around, you don’t appreciate it later in life. When you’ve grown up in a war and famine torn country, with the dead and the worst deamons imaginable standing at the command of your enemy’s general, you eat whenever you can, and you leave no plate unfinished, even when you’re long since content or even full, you cannot pass on an opportunity of food. The same goes for sleep. When you’re a soldier you get your sleep when you can, and you learn to sleep, nap, snooze and doze anywhere. I can see the puzzled and curious looks on the faces of my companions, which betrays their lack of experience.