Beneath the great Breton cemetery in Northern Glenumbra, lies a labyrinth of tombs, chambers and crypts. Before we can challenge the vile Gravesinger in his inner sanctum for his necromantic crimes, we need first overcome trick and trap, to wrest control of the cemetery from his grotesque army.
S.K
Gabrielle opens the way for us to gain entry to the Catacombs of Cath Bedraud, the final resting place of Kings, Queens, and heroes past. Somewhere in these depths, amidst tomb, grave, chamber and crypt, hides the Bloodthorn leader, Angof the Gravesinger.
From the razing of Deleyn’s Mill, to the desecration of Eagles Brook, this Reachman is culpable for so much suffering across Glenumbra; yet to think how many men and mer rushed to this tyrant’s banner to enact his abominable charter, and now lie cold in dishonourable grave, is a bitter matter indeed.
There are times when we are powerless to prevent evil intent, but there must never be a time when we cannot stand and challenge it.
S.K
Daggerfall forces are gathered for the final push against Angof and the Bloodthorns, but a poisonous mist bars their approach to Cath Bedraud, overcoming all who attempt to enter. An earlier incursion attempt has ended in failure, as has a foolish rescue effort by Darien Gautier and a handful of Camlorn soldiers seeking retribution for their city’s demise.
A leader is responsible for every soldier serving under him; every decision must be weighed ‘gainst their lives, and every sacrifice he makes, must be unavoidable. In truth, brave men never make good leaders; they lack the wisdom, discernment, and discrimination that the more humble man learns in surviving each day. Darien’s conscience will bear scar from the decision he made this day, and no glib remark or garrulous front will ever wholly mask his shame.
We will save what soldiers we can, and then it is up to the mage to work her ritual and rite to bring down the barrier protecting the Gravesinger from the wrath of High Rock.
S.K
I decide to investigate a crypt to the west of the Cath Bedraud cemetery. Rumour is that the Bloodthorn cultists are plundering tombs for carcass and cadaver to bolster their battalion of undead. I can feel nothing but repugnance for these necromancers, and revulsion towards what they bring forth from the earth.
S.K
The use of any artefact born of those accursed planes of Oblivion is a risk usually too great, but we need to break Angof’s barrier, and this talisman is our only means of achieving that. First though, we must purge it of its Daedric heritage by vanquishing whatever resides within.
A Dremora, a warrior of the blackened Deadlands of Oblivion. Standing taller than a healthy Nord, they are said to possess the brute strength of an Orsimer, the ferocity of a frost troll, and the cunning of a Baandari Pedlar. Heavily armoured, its black plate glistens in the light of the moons like polished obsidian; seemingly it takes as much pride in its armour’s sheen as does an Altmer city guard. Its ashen grey face twists in barbarous determination, two horns dominate its rigid forehead, whilst four more grow from its chin. It thunders a deep guttural battle cry as its giant weapon crackles with lightning.
It is said that the sole purpose of the Dremora is battle and war, and that on the lava planes of Oblivion, a thousand clans train and prepare, impatiently awaiting their opportunity to invade Nirn.
Certainly this one wields its giant mace like one who has long hours of combat training, and perhaps if I had not already faced one of its brethren at the Bad Mans Hollow, I might have been caught unprepared by its mastery of its chosen weapon. But there is a world of difference between being combat trained and combat hardened as this Daedric Warrior is about to learn; although as we face off I whisper a quick prayer to Sai, the God of luck… just in case.
S.K
The Tamriel Drifter 