Greetings, mortal. I am Hermaeus Mora.
In his last recording, our dear hero Faustus explained to you about the scroll. The scroll, he believed, would grant him that which he yearns for. It is true.
Faustus Lachance is a good man. However, bad things often happen to good people. This is the way it is, and the way it has been.
Faustus is not a fool. Nor is he wise enough to know how the scroll was created.
Long ago, I, Hermaeus Mora, gave the scroll to the Dwemers. They were a race of people who take pride in knowledge. They lived in the most advanced civilizations ever known to mankind. Among their achievements, the Dwemers discovered how to extract elements from plants, manipulate the forces around them, and even animate machines.
However, their unceasing quest for knowledge defined their existence. It occupied the Dwemers’ lives more than their own family, the people whom they surround themselves with every day. The Dwemers were always yearning to know more about alchemy, magic, machinations, and even the Elder Scroll itself.
The Dwemers, for all their knowledge of their surrounding world, was ignorant of themselves. They were a race of shrewd and cold people. They lived in close proximity with each other in large mechanized cities. Yet, the desert of emotions between them was vast, and the solitude they endured was immense. Fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, brothers and sisters were distant to one another.
The condition of the Dwemers prompted me to create the scrolls. It is as Faustus said. The scroll alters the fate of its bearer, and requires the bearers to record their events. As for what it grants and does not grant, that is what Faustus does not know. The scroll, when it was given to the Dwemers, altered the lives of its bearers. It forced the bearers to confront great strife and conflicts. It brought to the forefront, and tested the bonds between fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, brothers and sisters. It was not my intention, nor am I proud of this. But the scrolls brought the end of the Dwemers.
Only upon the destruction of their civilization, the Dwemers realized what was important. It was not the schematics, compasses, or sextants that they tried to save in their final hours. It was their fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, brother and sisters that they embraced and held dear.
Faustus, I fear, desires more than what he currently possess. Like the Dwemers, his fate will be altered; and strife, he will know.
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