The Dremoran clans of Coldharbour are just as proud and arrogant as their Deadland’s kin. Their barbed blades are sharpened just as finely, their destructive spells studied just as keenly, and their blackened armour is polished with just as much hubris. They are just as dutiful in their ignoble cause, and yet just as fettered by the chains of their own taut dogma.
Dremora see their daedric allies as lessor races, and mortals as lessor still. This is perhaps why this warlike people, who exist only to serve the purpose of their Daedric overlords, seem not to be treating our incursion into their realm as a serious threat. Indeed, once they spot a mortal warriors approach, they invariably charge upon a guttural war cry, raising their great blades above their horned heads, or crackling staves before their uncomely faces, with little to no regard as to what threat the mortal might bring.
Perhaps it is because they are unburdened by fear of death or the constricts of mortal compunction. Indeed they cannot possibly comprehend just how precious we hold our lives, or how valuable we hold the lives of our comrades. But perhaps they are right to be unconcerned, for surely even with the aid of those mortal denizens of Coldharbour we have met along the way, we have not the numbers to overcome even a single clan. And yet there is still reason to believe in ourselves.
Whilst it is true that nobody understands better then the clans of Oblivion, who are uniform in both attitude and ability, that in unity is strength. What they cannot possibly comprehend is what our history has taught us, that unity of the discordant is far more powerful still. No matter how diverse are the philosophies of Men, Mer, Feline, and Reptile, or how disparate our talents may be, by standing together in purpose and heart, the solitary weak can become the collectively strong.
So stand together mortal warriors, stand next to me, stand as one Tamriel, and o’er Oblivion shall we achieve.