It turns out that this fearsome woman is not only leading the uprising, but she is also the ‘Lyris’ the apparition told me to find. There is something of the Nord about her… and of the giant too judging by her formidable stature. And the way she wields that giant axe, from her stance, to her grip, to her balance in swing, this woman has been schooled well.
She refers to my phantom cell visitor as ‘The Prophet’, and appears to hold him in high regard. I am to help this half-giant set him free. It seems I am to play the tool for this “Prophet”… Whatever, just as long as it gets me out of this desolate pit.
Oh, and she also tells me I’m dead… I think I already knew. The emptiness in my ragged, dry, hollow, barren torso… I already knew I am empty.
It seems that I was sacrificed by a Elf named Mannimarco and his Worm Cult to the Daedric prince, Molag Bal. Well then, perhaps my carcass is not so empty after all; because I can feel vengeance stirring deep inside my abyss, and it comes duel-armed with fury and wrath.