Even in war-torn Cyrodiil, not all the heroes wear armour. Not all heroes are trained to fight, siege forts, or cast spells; be them destructive or restorative. The unsung heroes of this war are ordinary people. The people who suffer, often against great hardships inflicted upon them by armed and armoured ‘heroes’, and yet they endure. It is these very people that hold this province together, despite the invading outsiders attempts to rip it apart. It is upon the fortitude of these people that the foundations of empires are built. It is these people who are the everyday heroes.

It is evening when I arrive in Chorrol, a small town set amidst the rugged Colovian Crags. In the Imperial City we had heard the troubling news of what happened here, the earthquake that devastated the town and the resulting fissure through cutting its heart, a direct ramification of the Worm’s betrayal. What I did not expect to find four year later however is that the town is suffering from quakes still. It’s buildings are slowly crumbling and sinking into the ground. The fissure glowing bloody red in the dusk light splits Chorrol like an open wound from which fetid smoke and gases rise. The broiling lava has attracted flame atronachs in sinister number. For the townsfolk, simply crossing from one side of Chorrol to the other can be a perilous undertaking.

What more, Chorrol has been plagued by bandits, food is scarce as their crops are regularly pillaged, and yet the armies of the alliances who regularly pass through offer the people no aid. Even the Covenant guards patrolling the streets I see seemingly turn a blind eye to the open desecrations of grave robbers.

Despite their suffering and loss, the years of famine, the daily injustice of crimes unpunished, the monsters in their fields, and the churlish invaders, the people of Chorrol refuse to bow to their sorrows. They remain admirably resolute, ‘In spite all this we stay’, they tell me, ‘because it is still our home.’ Despite their obvious need the people refuse my offer of aid and tell me their inns are full. I cannot blame them for mistrusting a stranger, especially one dressed in Imperial armour. In fact the only work I am offered in Chorrol is from a solitary bandit hiding in the dusky night.

S.K