I reach the foundry to find Galerion’s Magicka being siphoned directly into the forge, where it is being used to fuel the numerous daedric machines that creak and heave with steam and oil, the breath and blood of Molag Bal’s industrial war.

Just like the dremora that work them however, these machines exist solely to serve a purpose, to make difficult into routine. They feel neither love nor hate as we do, and despite what damage they inflict upon our lands, and their own, they are incapable of pity or remorse. They are neither “good” nor “evil”, they simply are.

The machines are not our enemy, and neither are the daedra; for all their power and size they are but tools for the God of Schemes. Yet the only way to stop the industrial onslaught is to break them, and this is my purpose, and it too is neither “good” nor “evil”, it simply is.

S.K

Slaves do not last long in the Black Forge, the work is relentless, and perilous, and the taskmasters are merciless in their agency. Since they began draining the captured mage Vanus Galerion’s stamina to vitalize their slaves however, the soul-shriven have been lasting markedly longer. I forget which House Dres Grandmaster it was who said, ‘It is a poor master that allows his slaves to sink into such a state that he has to feed them, instead of being fed by them.’

I cannot save every slave in Coldharbour, and these soul-shriven are perhaps now too far broke, their spirits sunk too deeply into the abyssal malaise of drudgery… but they are not yet feral. If I can kill their Taskmaster, I pray that they still have enough resolve and desire left within them to take the opportunity to save themselves, just as I did from the Wailing Prison.

S.K

Finally my search for the great mage Vanus Galerion ends when I encounter his projection near a bridge which leads me to The Black Forge. It seems that Galerion had decided to attempt to destroy the Great Shackle and thus bring our mission in Coldharbour to an end all by himself. All great men and women suffer moments of unreasonable confidence, its what ends most of them. The mage was duly captured and his essence split into three and is now being used to speed up the production of Molag Bal’s dark anchors and the Great Shackle itself.

I discover a side entrance into a vast Slag Pit where soul-shriven slaves mine the materials needed to fuel the machines of the Planemeld. His essence of health is being slowly drained to feed the vampires who oversee the mining operation. How piquant must be the hubris of the great Vanus Galerion to these Scions of Coldharbour.

S.K

Of the three former towns of Tamriel that now makes up the Village of the Lost, there are but three surviving residents who unfortunately have already been shriven of their souls. For reasons unknown to me, the daedra have chosen to keep them here rather then sending them on to work with the other soul-shriven slaves in one of their many prisons of Coldharbour.

With so many daedra here it is too much the risk to attempt to save the three, and what they ask of me is surely too great a sacrifice. And yet I must, because here but by the grace of the divines go I. For what would I be now but a feral husk had not someone taken the risk to break open my cell door during the Wailing Prison uprising.

Besides, there must be a reason the daedra have kept the three here, and even though I know not why, to scupper that why makes them worth that risk. And I am no blind old prophet, I cannot foresee what contribution these three may or may not make if they have but the opportunity that I was given. But if I do not take this risk, then I would be dishonouring that risk that was taken for me.

S.K

Daedra, like mortals, aren’t all created as equals. Some are stronger, quicker, more intelligent. Some more brutal, sadistic or more full of hate for all things mortal. Some are just simply bigger. These are Molag Bal’s champions, the best of his minions, or rather the worst. They seem to enjoy butchering and slaughtering without fear or worry of repercussion, so certain are they in the knowledge that there is none roaming this dread realm more deadly than they… until today.

Aez the Collector, a Xivilai

Gruthaz, a Harvester

Macius Cento, a Lich

Iluzan, a Flesh Atronach

Mirok the Deplorable, a Xivilai

Uluzzur, a Bone Colossus

Vrendi, a Harvester

Zatalguch, a Daedric Titan

S.K