I find the body of a man lying at the foot of a bridge leading up to an old ruin. It is an indictment on these times that this is not such a rarefied sight. Neither is it so extraordinary that I am soon to find myself in conversation with the former tenant of the body. The dead tend to linger in Tamriel nowadays; every corpse seems to have a story to tell, a wrong to right, or a deed to finish. I’ve made a promise to myself that the next time I die, I shan’t linger.
Ghosts are generally despondent beings, if not downright miserable; speaking with them usually leaves my thoughts as heavy as branches after rainfall. My mother used to say that ghosts were ‘nought but unfinished business’; the more I encounter, the more I think her right. This particular ghost claims he was searching the ruins for “the greatest treasure of the Breton Kingdoms”; ghosts I have found also have a propensity for embellishment.
What is certain is that the ruins of Dresan Keep are now crawling with Angof’s Bloodthorn cultists, and they are searching for something. And whilst I care little for this spirits ‘unfinished business’, it would be amiss of me if I were to not take every opportunity to scupper the plans of the Bloodthorn.