Upon reaching the Anchor Moorings we come under immediate attack from a pair of skeletal spell-casters. I say we, but when faced with a hoary old blind man and a sword wielding warrior, even the undead will choose to focus solely on the latter.
S.K
As mortals, we spend almost our entire existence trying to emulate the Divines in one way or another. We look to them for guidance, for inspiration, for motivation, for purpose, for judgement, for ambition, and for reason. For their providence, we often love them and hate them in equal measures, but most of all we envy them their immortality.
But in truth, the Divines have equal reason to envy us for the one noble virtue we have that these immortals can never have. The nobility of sacrifice.
We may never be as Divines, but every mortal, being mortal, has more to lose, more to give in sacrifice, then any Divine will ever know.
S.K
The foul stench here is stomach curdling. Traipsing through putrid waters and piles of debris, and tripping over rotting corpses in varying states of decay, whilst trying not to get ourselves impaled on the lethal spear traps springing from the ground all around us.
This may well prove to be the most unpleasant place I’ve ever been to…. and I’ve been to Morrowind!
S.K
Cadwell doesn’t suffer from insanity; he rather seems to enjoy it.
Apparently destroying the Sentinel triggered a magical ward on the Prophet’s cell door… I guess this ‘Prophet’ was not the only one who saw us coming. The eccentric Sir Cadwell points us towards something called the ‘Undercroft’.
So… a conceited apparition, an undead swamp-eater, a Nord she-mountain, and now a long-time soulless knight who favours wearing a pot on his head. This…THIS is my salvation!? I’d ask Lyris to pinch me to prove this isn’t just a nightmare, but I think I’d probably lose an arm.
Pish-tosh and onto the Undercroft then.
S.K
As I shielded myself against the frenzied attack of the feral Soul-shriven, I became entirely transfixed by it’s empty eyes. No anger, no fear, no hunger, no desperation, no emotion whatsoever… just empty. And even when Lyris’s axe hewed the creatures head from its shoulders, there was still no look of shock, pain, or sorrow.
Even if we somehow manage to escape this place and make it back home to Tamriel, I’ll still be dead… and I’ll still be Soul-shriven.
Is this to be my fate?
Was I looking into a reflection of my own eyes?
S.K
The Tamriel Drifter 