Long before I reach Nurin’s farm I spy many thick columns of dark smoke snaking into the uncommonly blue skies above Stormhaven. As I draw nearer the stench of smoulder befouls the air, and I begin to taste soot and ash upon the wind. As I reach the road north of Koeglin Village I see for the first time collapsed roofs sitting precariously atop the crumbling cinder ruin of barn and shed.
Blackened soil, charred crop, and gnawed carcass of livestock consummate the bleak vista of devastation. And the very pestilence that wrecked such desolation lingers still. Daedra, ever gluttonous for mortal despair frolic like lambs in spring garden through their field of defilement and repugnant deed.