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.

S.K

‘I am the answer to all questions and the question behind every answer.’

Whether mere mortal or Daedric Prince, it is just plain hubris to believe that what we see is everything there is to see.

Perhaps Hermaeus Mora did foresee my coming today, and perhaps my name is already recorded in my realms of Apocrypha as it claims it to be. As to why I am here, well you do not have to be a Daedric Prince of Fate and Forbidden Knowledge to figure that it has to do with the Celestial invasion of Craglorn.

Hermaeus Mora does not give knowledge without a fee, luckily mine has been paid this day by returning its servant Ibrula back to the Prince. The voice from the shrine tells me that if the Celestial Warrior has risen the mighty Anka-Ra from the sands, then their great general Tarish-Zi has risen also; for they are bound to him through an oath of eternal loyalty. The only way to defeat them, is to defeat him.

I had wondered what deal Hermaeus Mora offered to the Yokudans all those years ago to build such a grand temple atop the site of its shine. The same deal Hermaeus Mora offers all its servants… knowledge without wisdom, ethic, or morality.

S.K

A Daedric Watcher stands before Hermaeus Mora’s shrine; the giant guardian acting as a final test of our worth.

To the Lord of Knowledge our worth is only ever what we can provided it in service, and to be fair that is the exact same worth it places upon it’s Daedra. Take the Glaring Eye for example. It’s only worth to Hermaeus Mora is as a guardian to it’s shrine, so when I drive my sword through it’s black pupil, it becomes worthless.

Yet we mortals too are guilty of behaving as if there are things of higher value than life, whether it be wealth, belongings, titles, or even honour. It is not until someone is lost that we finally appreciate their worth. The question is, what is the value of a life if nobody mourns its loss? Indeed, if there is none to mourn me when I shall fall, am I worth anything at all?

S.K

I could smell them as soon as I entered through the ornate stone doors… Daedra. Their unworldly briny blood stench is one you do not quickly forget. The Shadow Walkers of the Moonless Walk in Coldharbour claimed they can tell Clannfear from Scamp, Twilight from Daedroth, just by smell alone. I don’t doubt them, yet such woodland skills are beyond my capabilities. I am most certain however that these halls stink of Daedra.

Ibrula must have sensed my demeanour change for she was swift to offer explanation. The Seeker’s Archive is a Daedric shrine she tells me, built centuries before the Ra Gada had even landed upon the western shores. She has been visiting here for many years, offering up relic and curio to the Lord of Secrets, Hermaeus Mora, in exchange for esoteric knowledge. And she believes the Daedric Prince can provide the knowledge we need to defeat the fallen Celestials.

Ibrula deceived me because she wasn’t certain that I would help if I knew the whole truth; she was perhaps right. I had vowed never again to rush foolishly into another deal with a Daedric Prince after the devious scheming of Sheogorath. Yet now I think I might be equally foolish if I were not to at least listen to the offer.

Even if the Keeper of Forbidden Knowledge is not as ill-famed for his duplicity or treachery as the Mad God, we mustn’t forget the Anka-Ra crawling out from the sands and standing guard over the ruins of the temple above as if… how did Ibrula put it? “as if they were just picking up where they left off when they died”. Forever bound beyond their ruin to duty bear.

One has to wonder what sort of deal was offered to the Yokudans for them to build their great temple upon the site of his shine. And indeed, what ill-providence led to its downfall, yet left the Seeker’s Archive beneath curiously untouched.

S.K