We arrive somewhat dispirited back in the Hollow City. How swiftly the sweet taste of victory had turned sour In the Black Forge with the revelation that we were too late to prevent the Planar Vortex. However, returning to see the rebirth of this ancient city, albeit in a different era, a different realm, and with a different people, is heartening to us all.
From all across this accursed realm, the lost, the forsaken, the captured, the foolish, and the betrayed have been drawn like moths to Merida’s lights, and to what is perhaps mortals last safe haven in all of Coldharbour. And with the mages guild now opening their portals, fresh supplies, traders, tradesmen, and the foolhardy seeking fame, fortune and adventure, have began to arrive from Tamriel.
A meeting is held in the opulent Chapel of Light to discuss how we are to proceed upon the morrow. It is the kind “officer’s tent” meeting on the eve of battles that the common soldiery would usually scoff at around our campfires. For at this too late an hour there is nothing new that can be learnt, and nothing more that can be resolved; we know too well our duty. Once more we must set our faces towards the danger, bulwark our spirits with courage, and buttress our hearts for sacrifice.
Yet what I discover is there really is little difference between the officers tent and the soldiers campfire. For none of us expect to see sunset on the morrow. Those who will aim to keep alive will find nowt but a wretched and dishonourable death, whilst those that accept the convicted fate of the mortal, will make it their endeavour to die with honour. This is all but a final chance to say our silent goodbyes.