The Moorings of the Great Shackle of Coldharbour. Never had I imagined such monstrous power, and much like its daedric laird, it is a power wholly without conscience or empathy. We must risk our all to stop it here and now whilst we have the opportunity. For mortals, whose whole life is but a flicker of a candle to a Daedric Prince, opportunity is the most precious of all things; and with every opportunity comes responsibility, not necessarily to achieve, but to try.
Responsibility to the next whom they send against this machine, who will likely be less capable then us. Responsibility to the many thousands who stood side by side, back to back with their Banner enemies under the shadows of the Dark Anchors to hold back the Planemeld. Responsibility to the lost members of the guilds whose bodies now litter the azure wastes of Coldharbour. And responsibility to all our family and friends who back in Tamriel know not what comes.
It is our responsibility to hold back the daedra whilst the great mage Vanus Galerion sets his mind to destroying the Shackle. Two portals open from which wave upon wave of hawkish creatures emerge. We fight and hold the line again and again, and eventually the machine begins to crumble. Finally with crash and blast it collapses, destroying the portals and our triumph is heralded by the most vociferous silence I have ever heard.
But alas we are too late… The Planar Vortex, the convergence of our two worlds, has already began. We have achieved the impossible, and yet we have achieved nothing.