445. Not one inch more


That night another of Molag Bal’s iniquitous anchors fell upon Tamriel at the Mornouth Dolmen in Bangkorai; and that night another group of strangers set aside their colours to unite under a single banner in the defence of Tamriel. It is vital that even up here in the wilds of Northern High Rock, where the Reachmen forge base havoc, and the agents of the Seventh Legion provoke and incite, that no Daedric horn goes unchallenged.

Why do those treacherous worms continue to sacrifice themselves to the dread horns of Coldharbour? Is it fear? Greed? Or perhaps they see the Prince’s wings but not its tail? Whatever the reason for their betrayal of their families and kin, they are as much monsters as the Daedra they summon forth. And as for these Daedric monsters that cannot die, that fight unencumbered by remorse or compassion, we shall fight them all the same, because here on Nirn they are but all flesh and blood.

We must cede not an inch more of Tamriel to Oblivion. For I have witnessed first hand the surrender of the Imperial City to the Daedric cults, and beheld the desolation of the Aswala Stables in the Alik’r. I have walked amongst the Shiven of Coldhabour, I have delved into those most hidden depths where monsters from all parts of Oblivion plot and ploy in the darkest corners of this land. And I have come face to face with an aspect of the Lord of Brutality and the hate I saw reflected in his eyes is most dreadfully remembered.

Not one inch more…


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