Dear Mother,

A soul with a gravelly voice mumbles, “I wonder how many copies I’ll sell? Hundreds? Thousands? I’ll hire the finest bookbinder I can find.”

Curious, J’Zhirr stops to ask. The soul irritatedly replies, “How does anyone expect me to write my opus with all of these rude interruptions?” He then says, “If I hadn’t lost all of the pages, I wouldn’t be in this predicament and we won’t be having this conversation.”

Perhaps it will be less confusing if he starts from the beginning.

“Very well. I suppose a moment or two of my time couldn’t hurt,” the soul says. “I am Jiub. Some call me Saint Jiub. Others call me Jiub the Eradicator. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

J’Zhirr has never heard of him before but Jiub did not seem offended by this one’s reply. He says, “I can’t say that I’m surprised by your answer. Until I get my second volume published, no one will ever know of my achievements.” Apparently Jiub has plans to write a twenty-six volume epic of his life. He is calling it The Rise and Fall of Saint Jiub the Eradicator: Hero of Morrowind and Savior of the Dunmer. Quite a mouthful.

Jiub is in the midst of writing the second volume when a dremora and his minions trapped him in the Soul Cairn. When Jiub was transported to the Soul Cairn, he fell himself falling and dropped the pages he was holding.

J’Zhirr had to break the bad news to Jiub that he is dead.


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