Agents and Reagents : The Bounty of Mundus : Afterword Content . Having faithfully and proficiently completed the task given to me by the Master , I see now that I have some fifteen pages left unfilled in the back of my Journal . Doubtless I cannot leave these pages blank , lest I risk the Master concluding that I have not carried out my duty as exhaustively as he wished . But how am I to fill the remaining pages ? Some kind of treatise of my own ? It must be something that will please my Master greatly , but what ? I shall try to sleep on it . I feel more weary than usual this evening , but I fear that I may not get the rest I so evidently need . Today a clumsy Redguard merchant named Uwafa scratched me about the face with his gauntlet finger while dusting me off , after we piled sacks of bone meal into our backroom shelves . He apologized profusely , and administered some kind of ointment , but the tiny scratch has begin to itch quite fiercely . I will see how it looks in the morning . Day 2 Today I examined the light scratch that ruddy - faced and barbarous oaf Uwafa laid across my cheek . The ointment he applied seems to have done more harm than good . My scar deepens , slightly inflamed and deep red in color . Perhaps I should apply stitch work ? No , that would simply add to my vanity . Day 4 Stendarr ' s mercy overlooks my predicament . I added concoctions and elixirs to my wound , but these offer only a temporary relief . By sun ' s down today , my scratch became infected , and my cheek aches . The skin around the tear throbs and swells , now a deeper red with brown flecks . Day 5 Now the oozing . I change bandages twice daily , and wince at the pain from my eye socket down to my jaw . I sent Bardus out for nirnroot to help alleviate my predicament , and he returned with dragonthorn , and his own set of scratches . Idiot ! I hope he suffers the same infection . Day 7 A night spent in pain , sleeping only on one cheek , as my other wills out like a bladder . My food is mashed and administered through the opposite side of my mouth . The discoloration extends to my lips , and small , sickly red pustules now with along the wet and cracked fissure of my face . Day 10 Another night of agony , a heated pin in one trembling hand , and a wiping cloth in the other , lancing the cluster of larger pustules that inhabit my disfigurement . Oozing pus greets me in the mirror , although this seems to be turning gray . Bardus has taken to calling me " Gangrene Sorick , " and laughing . Day 13 I chew unrefined moon sugar leaves continuously , but the pain is insufferable . Alarming growths and bulging where half my face was . Black veins from the rip , where no stitching can mend this most visible of wounds . My days are spent out of sight , lst I scare the customers . Day 14 Mara weep for me . Four days without sleep . The boils form faster than I can deflate them . Food is taken with a straw , but my stomach refuses solids ; my only sustenance is soup and magic . My chamber is coated in vomit . And the smell ! Red growths turning purple . Day 16 [ Librarian Note : the handwriting has turned jagged and uneven ] Bardus checks on me infrequently now ; he has both hands full running the shop . The infection spreads , further cracks and small fissures rip up , and the purple discoloration is across my entire face now . I find it difficult to think . My rest is troubled by frightening dreams of writhing worms . Day 17 Today I woke to a black rose on my bedside table . A gift from a well - wisher ? I cannot be seen visiting the healers ! The purveyors of elixirs cannot cure their own staff ? We ' d be drummed out of Wayrest . Laughter in my head . Weeping sores from popped boils , as my skin hardens into a cursed abomination . Day 19 No one would recognize me now . My curse cannot continue without my death . Books on disease are written by the unsure , but my lament is that of a man with corpus disease . Why , then , do the brewed potions not heal me ? Skin torn , overstretched , a face Molag Bal would revile . Day 20 My anguish deepens at my manhandling by that Uwafa . A voice from the void : " The candle in your head is slowly going out . " My skin rots . The tip of my right ear fell into my soup today . I would cry if I could . I look like an ogre cursed by Hermaeus Mora . Pustules around the armpits and nethers now . Day 21 [ The handwriting is at an angle , with uneven spacing between the words . ] Head purple . Agony . Wretches . Worms beneath the skin . Only I can see . Listen ! Understand ? Day 22 [ Librarian Note : The handwriting is a sloppy cursive ] I am writing this because Gargrell said so . He is chained in the secret room . No more feeding . He wrote rude words about me in this book . Now he ' s mad and screaming . Master doesn ' t return for one more week . Should I pray to Arkay ? - Bardus Day 24 Ran him through with a spear but he froths at the mouths and coughs his guts everywhere . Hit him again and he scratched me . Corpus husks in the cellar . Hope the chains hold . Closed the shop . Might burn everything . Goodbye . - Bardus