I travel west out of Belkarth to a cave full of crocodiles, giant snakes, and lamias that the locals call Zalgaz’s Den. Finding lamia lurking in the caves of Craglorn is perhaps just as aberrant as finding draugh in a Dwemer ruin. Though this curious phenomenon has been studied by scholars, it seems that just how these amphibious creatures first came to be in the arid wastes of Hammerfell remains a mystery still.
Perhaps I should not be surprised though, for is it any more strange to find lamia in a Craglorn delve then to find a former Imperial Legionnaire searching every cleft and cranny for souvenirs to trade with a daedric prince? Or is it stranger even then the tavern tales I hear told of a whole Argonian tribe making a home in the jungles of the Valenwood. Or even the curious story I heard from a ships captain in Wayrest that the Maormer have laid claim to a small island off the coast of Elsweyr? Sometimes Tamriel is not only stranger than we think it, but stranger than we can imagine.
However the lamia got here they now hide underground because there is no home for them in Craglorn between the earth and the sky. Yet like cured fish these lamia still carry the smell of the sea. Most of us at some point in our lives will have shared that same sense of displacement, feeling we have no part in a place we call home, a place in which we long but can never belong. We may well think ourselves masters of our destiny, but we are also but slaves to our fate.