To the East of Wayrest a desolate farm moulders, a remnant perhaps of Ranser’s wrath some 16 years earlier. Long thought deserted, yet I encounter a lone Supernal Summoner attempting to establish a portal to Oblivion. Such a gateway would enable the Daedric horde to sow havoc and devastation upon the farmlands on central Stormhaven.
I am not the only adventurer to happen upon the farm that late afternoon, and as I charge to prevent the miscreant from finishing his ritual, I am joined by a young sorceress, and a Temple Knight. The cultist is swiftly cut down, but we are too late to prevent a giant Daedroth from breaking through, accompanied by a pack of flame chucking scamps.
Working together however, my sharp sword and the Knight’s Aedric Spear keep the monsters engaged whilst the Sorceress lights them up from behind with a spectacular bombardment of Crystal shard and lightning bolt. With concerted effort we manage to slay the Daedric insurgents, but I wonder, had fate, luck, or providence not brought us together at that very moment, would any of us have been able to fight back the Daedric incursion on our own.
Unity, that is where mortal’s great strength lies, and nothing, not love, solidarity, regard, or respect can unite man or mer as fixedly as defiance against a common enemy. Ultimately it may not be a Breton King, an Elven Queen, or a drunken barbarian who will unite Tamriel under a single banner, but it may just be our common hatred for the tyrant of Oblivion.
This one small skirmish, unseen and unnoticed, a battle that may have saved a hundred lives, a year’s harvest, and by extension, an entire war, will never be recounted by tavern bard, or chronicled in the annals of High Rock, because except for myself, the Sorceress Zérnichter and the Templar Knight Skyrén, there was nobody there to witness it.