The ( Improved ) Emperor ' s Guide to Tamriel : Valenwood The ( Improved ) Emperor ' s Guide to Tamriel is a book written by Flaccus Terentius to explain his adventures throughout Tamriel during the Second Era . It was written as an additional Guide book to . Content . Wood Elves of the Aldmeri Dominion I was bundled onto the first ship out of Firsthold like a common cutpurse , and it was only by good fortune that the Night Heron was sailing to Malabal Tor . My companions were surly merchants , and my writ of passage might as well have been written in the ancient tongue of the dragons for all the good it did me . A fellow absconder named Borongothlor shared my destination : Velyn Harbor , an Altmeri port on the Strident Coast of Valenwood . We arrived without fanfare . Some puffed - up dockside administrator was reading over my deportation order when Borongothlor yelled to the deckhands , " By Hircine ' s pelt ! Maormer squadron ! " This was no ruse ; the port was surprised by Sea Elves , some lithely leaping aboard the ship and many swarming the harbor . Bows were notched with haste , and fierce fighting commenced . The blank - eyed raiders fought under the sign of the sea serpent with their colorless skin and snake conjurations , overwhelming the ship ’ s crew in mere moments . My paperwork fell from the administrator ' s hands as he clutched his face and toppled from the jetty , an arrow protruding from his eye . High Elf harbor guards crouched behind firm barricades as the air filled with arrows . During a brief lull , I saw shapes flit from the forest . The Wood Elves appeared , helping their Altmeri brethren repel the raiders and send them back to their boats . Mer of the sea and woods make an interesting contrast ; the Maormer resemble the High Elves in the relative sophistication of their equipment , and the discipline of their medium - armored marines is impressive . But facing the cheerful ferocity and superior marksmanship of Bosmeri bowmen , the Sea Elves lost heart and withdrew . During the preceding assault , I had prudently jumped down and hid under a tarp in a bumboat . Peeking out to take in the conflict , I shrank back as I watched a ferocious fight along the quayside . A Maormeri commander was waylaid from his progress by a Bosmeri Treethane ' s bone - handled blade meeting his finely polished sword . The Sea Elf parried strongly , forcing the Treethane back on her haunches . Laughing , she bounded around his heavier armor , shouting " Y ' ffre ' s bones ! " and thrusting a sharp horn stiletto up through the Maormer ' s arm . She spun with brutal dexterity , slashing her main blade deep into the commander ' s neck and out the other side . The head flew past mine as the commander ' s corpse sagged , then fell into the deep mooring water below the Night Heron . I was surprised at a second splash ; the Wood Elf lost her balance and followed the corpse into the reddening harbor , where she floundered with none of her previous grace . Instinctively , I offered a hand and pulled her out , saving her life . I was more surprised at my act of valor than she was . With the battle over , I rambled on about my tale of woe to my gracious new friend . As my paperwork was lost with the customs officer in Velyn Bay , the High Elf watch seemed thankful when Serenarth offered me safe passage to Elden Root . Serenarth introduced me to a pair of imposing guardians ( I refrained from asking where they were when they were needed ) , a tracker , a cook , porters , her dogs , and various hangers - on in her ragtag gang . This caravan travels to Elden Root with " assets for the Aldmeri Delegation , " but no more information was imparted ( or needed ) . Any cheer I mustered was stifled , as I expected a road but was greeted by dense thickets and swamp water . I felt a sense of reflective melancholy as my boots soaked through ; the paintings of Black Marsh could be pasted here with my idiot superiors none the wiser . Valenwood is dark , soggy , and filled with awful creatures . Not the Bosmer of Serenarth ' s lot , although they seemed so jaunty I contemplated strangling one . No , I witnessed huge hoarvor ticks scuttling out from a leafy deen to meet a deflated end on a Wood Elf ' s spear tip before they could suck my blood . Grim spriggans - - plant creatures with inexplicable breasts - - reared at us from what Serenarth told us were their sacred glades . Splendid , more singsong rubbish about " Y ' ffre ' s bones " and a damp camp . I ' m beginning to suspect Mannimarco has bought my fate and toys with me here , in the mangroves with the Tree - Sap folk . The food they cooked had all the savor and flavor of an Orc raider ’ s boot ; squirrel preserves won ’ t be brought back to Bravil as a taste sensation . And the slouchbear surprise ? The “ surprise ” was that my gullet opened wide enough to digest such tough and highly salted meat . Our encounters with the local wildlife didn ' t fill me with joy either : One of the pack dogs ventured too close to a shrub , which came alive , its tendrils dragging the animal into a black maw . The Green Pact was suspended temporarily to cut the dog free . But at least this strangler plant wasn ' t able to give chase . At every swamp or stream we forded , we were met by mudcrabs . The incessant clacking of pincers and cracking of shells further irritates me . Oh , for a spell of swift transport to Elden Root . The Valenwood creatures continued to cause bother , but it wasn ' t until we reached a jungle waterfall that my guide slowed me to a quiet creep . The water was cascading down on a wondrous bathing nymph , glistening and laughing in the humid air . I was later informed this was a nereid , unrelated to the spirits of High Rock . As I attempted a closer investigation , a sinewy arm barred my path . One of the Treethane ' s heavily armed bodyguards urged me to make my sketches from afar . Sunshine at last ! I basked awhile as we stepped out of the dark jungle , our clothes steaming and our backs warming in the blessed heat . The city of Elden Root rose up from the woods to greet us . Wildflower meadows swayed in gentle breeze . Lush greenery and wandering paths ( some with oddly strewn bones , dropped from the trees above ) , along with a perfect union of Bosmeri and Altmeri architecture , proved this to be a magnificent settlement , its people in proud ascendancy . I felt almost energetic , too , filled with a mystical happiness for the first time since my arrival in this province . I spent the afternoon capturing the serene nature of this place and its immense and inhabited graht - oak , which towered over the Mer - made structures below its shrouding canopy . At night , this is a very different place ( at least to my eyes ) . Dark shapes dart away from the corner of my eye . Other appear all too real and frequently . The ghost of Falarel the jester creeps from the shadows to whisper jokes bereft of humor : “ Master Terentius , it looks like you ' ve taken ' root ' here ! ” I cannot rid myself of this shade . My one escape has been the drink . Intoxication among the Bosmer is not only tolerated , but also encouraged . I began a heavy session with the various Wood Elf liquors . I found rotmeth rancid , Sun ' s Dusk Ale too gamey , and by the time I discovered jagga was actually fermented pig ’ s milk , I was too far gone to care . I sit here , perplexed and sorry for myself . My stay in Elden Root is extended as I wait ( impatiently ) for an Imperial courier from Haven . I ' ve known Mactator Caprenius since his service with our family , and his timekeeping was never this tardy . But I pin my hopes on him extricating me from Valenwood and bundling me back into Cyrodiil as my guide nears completion . In the meantime , I sketch obsessively , lose sleep , and put up with Falarel ’ s verbal torture : “ My master , all your chickens have been killed . ‘ Twas murder most fowl ! ” Falarel ' s jokes are now laced with threats , many violent and threatening specific parts of my person . I am close to despair . I have not slept for many nights ; the dark jester sees to that . There shall be no further Imperial snippets . I threw the remaining pages of the Emperor ’ s Guide to Tamriel into a fat - fire . Stendarr grant me mercy , for I cannot tell night from day . During one of Falarel ' s brief disappearances , I sought out the priest , a Spinner , and pleaded for his help . My Spinner friend Thorongil thought it best we see a tree sacred to Y ' ffre . “ Aren ' t they all ? ” I asked , quite seriously , and was met with a chortle . His comedic nature continued when he asked me to carry him to our destination . I dismissed this as a lark until he told me his kind never move unless borne on the backs of others . Fortunately , my delicate vertebrae were saved as his servants maneuvered him to the foot of a towering , thickly branched specimen of oak , planted before the First Era . There we sat , him talking the day away while I sat listening and sketching Thorongil with his many belongings . He revealed his inner thoughts and his communications with Y ' ffre , which he recalls to the Treethanes of his tribe . " I ' ve told you the story of my mind and its changes in perception , " he explained , untying a pouch and producing a bone smoking pipe . " Now , we alter our understanding of the physical realm by inhaling dried insects . " If it meant missing out on a dead jester for a few hours , I was game . I breathed deeply . The experience was simultaneously repulsive and strangely soothing . I woke alone in the Spinner ' s tent , feeling more relaxed and carefree than I had in weeks . But as my haze cleared and the dusk of long shadows fell over the glades , my spirits started to sag once more . As the torchbugs began flickering in their jars , I felt that familiar pain . I opened my tunic and watched the brand on my chest begin to crawl , as if worms burrowed beneath the scars . One of the Spinner ’ s trophies - - a skull thing hung on a post - - started to clack its jaws at me . The tent seemed to spin and close in . Then blackness . Tired . Alone and deep in the woods at night . I must have been sleepwalking for quite some time . Shafts of light from Masser and Secunda filtered down through the canopy above . I was surrounded by gnarled trees and indistinct shapes , quicker at darting than my eyes . There is a fog within me , as if I ’ m a long way away . Odd clicking noises and chirruping of insects . The faint rustling of forest animals . These sounds don ’ t unnerve me anymore . Grim and terrible images remain behind my eyes , waiting to scream their way out of my head . I have the strange sense that I ’ ve been following somebody . I don ' t want to think about who that is . So I distracted myself and sat down to paint the midnight jungle . My painting hand seems less arthritic and almost bewitched . I completed the image of the night jungle and turned the page . I began another picture , rapidly and obsessively scattering blues and grays over the parchment . A different view began to form beneath my pen and brush . How in the name of Akatosh do I know this place ? It was the cold , dead nightmare land from my dreams that I ' d been drinking to forget . Cracked , frozen earth with black shapes lurking just below the surface . Was I doomed to wander this forgotten realm ? No , I ' m still in Valenwood . More jagga and bloodfroth to blot out the half - remembered horrors . They came back with a jolt . Hulking , reptilian Daedric brutes that had chased me through that landscape . I feel compelled to sketch them too . Eerie animal - faced people , or people wearing animal heads , creep from the shadows to sit and watch me while I work . They seem to stare intently , muttering short and unclear whispers and nodding to each other . Occasionally , I catch the bird skulls adorning their armor also turning to gaze at me from eyeless sockets . I dare not look upon them . Are they even really there ? The deep void of sleep caught me and I dreamed of my home in Cyrodiil . But this was not the place I left months ago . No , Cyrodiil had become a war - torn , anguished realm . The Bravil castle bailey was under heavy bombardment by the siege machines of an invading army . Councilor Lucasta ' s chambers were smashed to rubble , and the castle walls breached . Enemy foot soldiers rushed in like a river . Innocents and city watchmen were slain indiscriminately . My house was ablaze . I saw my brother , sword in hand , stumble through smoke and falling timbers , dragging a charred body . He headed back into the inferno . No , brother . Run ! Wake up , you fool . An evil face carved on black stone leers at me and grimaces in approval . The world of my nightmares converges with Tamriel , melding into a great and lamentable darkness . I must still be asleep ; such horrors cannot exist on Nirn . Yet here I sit , rooted to the spot , and paint this as if it is real for all to see . I witness a terrible vision of Valenwood in ashes . Wood Elf corpses burn next to the black bark of their leveled homes . Thousand - year - old graht - oaks are steaming , monumental husks . All have suffered . Figures wearing black cloaks and red helms … are those Worm Cultists patrolling these ashen lands ? A robed figure stands and watches , a worm twisting on his staff . Then he strides over the embers of the world . Mannimarco ? Wake up ! Wake up ! The evil face sneers in wicked glee . Awake ? I ' m aware of my sleepwalking again . I now find myself in the realm of the nightmare I fought to enclose within the walls of my slumber . A Bosmeri village has been defiled and destroyed . It is now festooned with the skin , bones , and other regalia of Daedra worshipers and necromancers . The smell of burning wood and flesh was not present before and forces me to retch in disgust and tie a cloth across my face . To complete my misery , that damnable ghost appears to taunt once more . " Good news , my master . I ' ve set fire to the forests and burned alive all your enemies in Valenwood . " " But , Falarel , " I manage to say , " I have no enemies in Valenwood . " " You do now ! " The flesh beneath my chest mark begins to crawl . I clutch it tightly , fearing it might burst . " Welcome , Flaccus Terentius , " says Falarel , now speaking with [ Mannimarco ( Online ) | Mannimarco ] ] ' s voice . " Welcome to Gil - Var - Delle . "