15. I’ve a feeling we’re not in Coldharbour anymore

15. I've a feeling we're not in Coldharbour anymore...

A man should wake every morning and believe in his heart that he will live forever, even though deep down he knows he is doomed.  

I awaken in a homely room, and for the briefest of moments consider that it all may have just been a bad dream; but then the Prophet appears back in incorporeal form and reality bites.  It seems I was fished from the sea by a local boat and have been unconscious for some time.  The Prophet believes that Lyris may yet live and is searching for a way to save her.  He owes her that much I guess, but I wouldn’t hold much hope on the clemency of Molag Bal. 

As for myself, my first priority is to find exactly where I am; wherever it is it certainly isn’t Cyrodiil.  Not that I am in a rush to return there, any fool can see that as long as those Daedra worshipers hold sway, the empire will fall, and I’ll be damned if I return to being a tool for their endeavours.

The Prophet suggests I find a cause and battle evil wherever it appears… if he thinks I am going to turn into some sort of Good Samaritan spreading hope and rainbows wherever I tread, then he may well be as mad as Cadwell.  However, I’ll need to eat, and for that I’ll need coin. They must have some honest work here for a man who knows how to swing a sword.

S.K

13. Daedric bones

 

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It seems this ‘Harvester of Souls’, is somewhat reluctant to let his prize prisoner escape from Coldharbour.  Perhaps there is more to this grizzled old man then the few cheap conjuration tricks he has shown me thus far.

Whilst serving as an infantryman in Cyrodiil, I never put much stock in the worship of these Daedric lords.  Even after Leovic legalized their worship, I still thought them little more than an eccentricity of the nobility.  A quirk of the opulent, whose pious rhetoric the common man, paying habitual reverence to the Divines, could safely pay little heed.  But now in hindsight, with the empire crumbling, Cyrodiil spiralling deeper and deeper into disarray, the regions forming alliances against us, and the arrival of the demonic ‘Anchors’ across our skies… it seems we are paying dearly for our half-sighted lethargy.

But no more…

To this Daedric ‘prince’ I leave a message in this pile of bones he sends against us.  I will rip through every monstrosity he commands across Nirn and beyond, I will burn down every foothold and rampart his followers build, I will serve up his puppet Mannimarco’s entrails on a platter, and I will have back what was taken from me… I want my soul.

S.K

11. Lyris’ sacrifice

As mortals, we spend almost our entire existence trying to emulate the Divines in one way or another.  We look to them for guidance, for inspiration, for motivation, for purpose, for judgement, for ambition, and for reason.  For their providence, we often love them and hate them in equal measures, but most of all we envy them their immortality.

But in truth, the Divines have equal reason to envy us for the one noble virtue we have that these immortals can never have.  The nobility of sacrifice.

We may never be as Divines, but every mortal, being mortal, has more to lose, more to give in sacrifice, then any Divine will ever know.

S.K