It is not strange how some civilians who are neither stirred by blood-lust nor greed are drawn back to battlefields again and again by the threads of fate? Often to perform most meaningful deeds making them heroes in their own right, but never sung of in taverns or remembered in the spinners’ yarns. The truth is that of the four of us that broke into Frostbreak Fortress, only King Kurog will be remembered.

We found the Alchemist, the only survivor of his squad, cowering behind a rock near the entrance. I remember Alinon from Camlorn, a friend of Darien’s who brewed a cure for Lycanthropy that helped us to liberate the city. When we discover a sapling growing out of a corpse the alchemist assures us he can brew a solution to destroy the tree upon which he believes the Reachmen’s briarhearts are being grown.

As the tree burns the Winterborn arrive in number but fall as quickly as they come. It is time to deal with Ice-heart himself. Kurog is obsessed with claiming his barbaric blade as a prize, believing the trophy will convince the clan chiefs to finally accept him as the rightful king of all the Orsimer. But back in the siege camp I spoke briefly to the other tribe leaders who told me that it is new ideas that frighten the fiercely traditional tribes; ‘And Kurog is full of new ideas’ they said. By new ideas I presume they mean a new city, new alliances… and a new God.

No tribe, army, or kingdom can stand long against new ideas, they wash over a land like a tsunami and those that set their sails against these tides of change risk being swept away. But is it not also those who weigh their anchors with their faith and principles who keep a nation’s customs and traditions alive for future generations?

S.K