At the behest of the Celestial Thief I have travelled to a secluded valley in upper Craglorn known as the Howling Sepulchers. It is about as pleasant as its name suggests. The Sepulchers are an ancient Nedic burial grounds set into the foothills of the Dragontail mountains, whilst the Howling refers either to the winds that blow unrelentingly across its jagged rocks and crags, or to the wailing laments of the undead that roam these grounds seemingly unbound by the usual etiquette of quietus.

But there is something else strange about these undead, other then that they are up and walking about. They look very much like the draugr usually found in Skyrim. Indeed, as I look about the valley the architecture is all very reminiscent of Nord tombs. It appears whilst this may well have originally been a Nedic site, later on Nords took over the burial grounds and built their tombs on top. In one such tomb I discover a draugr actively awakening other draugr from their sarcophagi.

Another strange phenomenon I observe of these draugr it that many of them appear to be standing guard, and it is not until I reach the last tomb of the Sepulchers that I discover why. There on the central dias of a grand burial chamber I find the dragon priest Akiirdal performing some foul ritual. Surely there is no way that this lich has remained hidden away here all this time like some Dwemer Animunculi? I can only surmises that he has been, somewhat unwisely, resurrected by necromancy.

The dragon priests, like the dragons themselves, are now thankfully thought to be a thing of the past in Tamriel. The only reason I recognised his vestments is because I have seen them once before during the Mad God’s insidious tormenting of the Mages Guild. I was sent back in time to retrieve a relic from Vuldngrav, where I was to do battle with the dragon priest Korthor.

If left unchecked this resurrected dragon cultist who draws strength from his draugr servants, can only mean certain trouble for Craglorn. Especially for the potential restoration of Elinhir, to whom the roads of Upper Craglorn provide not only vital access to the stone mines, but also a trade route directly to Dragonstar.

S.K

Skyreach Pinnacle is the final district of the ancient Nedic city still accessible today. Outside its doorways I am approached by a scholarly fellow who tells me he believes this was once a prison of sorts, for creatures the Nede’s could neither control nor destroy. He requests my aid in restoring the prisons wards as Scaled Court cultists have somehow inadvertently managed to release the inmates, and now they roam the Pinnacle unbound.

After fighting my way down through a dark winding corridor I find myself in a vast chamber. Barren except for a few curious runic circles around its perimeter, and what appears to be a ceremonial circle engraved at chambers centre. A huge opening in one wall provides a view into the night sky, empty now of course apart from the two moons and the shadow of a huge flying beast seemingly paroling the Pinnacle.

As soon as the scholar undertakes his ritual the celestial creatures begin to materialise around the summoning circles. The beasts, both natural and daedric in nature, agitate with magical energy. The scholar claimed that the Nedes experimented in imbuing these creatures with incredible power, perhaps to defend themselves from the invading Yokudans, or perhaps just for experimentation sake. Spiders and Crocodile, Scamps and Clannfear. Ogrim, Lamia, Snakes, and Scorpions. Even a daedroth, harvester, watcher, and spider daedra, the Nedes were meticulous in their research it seems. But none so these were as formidable as the giant celestial titan that arrives through the aperture.

Mederic Vyger believes these imprisoned creatures may have been the Nede’s failed experiments, and suggests that their successes may have become the Celestials themselves. To most this extraordinary claim will sound like the former Scaled Court cultist is trying a little to hard to justify his prior misplaced allegiance. It is worth noting however that his supposition echoes the claim made by Exarch Arnoth in the Hold below, that the Celestials were once mortal creatures that were somehow transcended, or elevated to the heavens. And indeed the Lich ruling over the Skyreach Catacombs certainly ascended into something more then he was when he was mortal. And need I recall the Dark Elves Tribunal, and how they seem to have elevated themselves to be something… more. And finally some even speculate that the sudden disappearance of the Dwemer was also a transcendence of some kind.

Whilst Mederic’s speculation may just be adding deadwood to an overgrown thicket, more and more of the Serpent’s allies seem to be coming to the same conclusion, that these Celestials are not quite the divine beings of Aetherius they claim to be.

S.K

Pride is an eccentric thing. On the one hand it can be the progenitor of evil, the root of sin, and yet conversely it can also be the only thing that keeps a warrior going forward against seemingly insurmountable odds.

The necromancer Virmeal was once advisor and friend to the Nedic high king Durac. Yet when the tempest of the Ra Gada began crashing against the walls of Skyreach, he betrayed him. Before the high king’s council he promised to raise an undead army to repel the invasion, yet instead he slaughtered all, and enslaved their corpses with his necromantic powers. This heinous act alone assured he ascended/descended into lichdom. Without the leadership of their king or council, the Nedes of Skyreach were doomed. Legend has it that it was Durac offering the hand of his daughter to another that provoked the High Elf’s betrayal. But it wasn’t a broken heart that sparked the High Elf’s treachory, rather it was wounded pride.

The necromancer Virmeal, bristling with prejudice and vitriol, motivated solely by pride and arrogance is convinced in his ability to overcome this mortal before him with his necrotic magics, runes and crystals. But when he had thrown the best of his worst at me and I was still standing, his faith in himself wavered, and he began to summon wave upon wicked wave of apparitions to his aid. If I were forced to face the necromancer and two or three ghosts I might have swallowed my pride and retreated. Yet as I stood alone affronting an oncoming horde, my pride had me stand my ground against seemingly insurmountable odds. Pride is eccentric like that.

S.K