Threats, barbs, and taunts, an impetuous act, a deception, a trap by one, an ambush by the other, and daedra, lots and lots of daedra. Its safe to say that the parley between Queen Arzhela of Evermore and the Imperial Magus-General Septima Tharn went about as well as could be expected.

Queen Arzhela should perhaps have known that Imperials do not offer parley on the back foot, it is always but a tactic to strengthen an advantage. As courageous and resolute as Azhela has proven, the arrival of King Emeric from Wayrest will add some much needed seasoning and acuity to the court of Evermore, especially if they are to survive the incursion of the Seventh Legion.

S.K

What little knowledge we have of the Dwemer has been traditionally harvested from either the historical records of their battles with other races, or the excavations of the ‘forsaken’ cities they left behind. Few accounts can be assumed to be reliable or accurate however, as both are heavily tainted by the distorted perceptions of their interpreters.

It is no surprise that by their enemies narrative the Dwemer were portrayed as a terrible people; cruel, callous, and unsympathetic to all other races. What is perhaps surprising is that this portrayal has endured and is so readily accepted even today. And the archaeologists that now delve into the ruins of the Dwemer cities that are found across Morrowind, Hammerfell, High Rock and Skyrim, do so prejudiced by these historically partisan reports. But perhaps more importantly, the industrious society of the Dwemer is being judged by a people infatuated with all things magicka. It is a fact that many of the most influential scholars in Tamriel are also either prominent members of the Mages Guild, or claim to share strong links with the esoteric Psijic Order.

And yet we appear no closer then we were a millennium ago to discovering the fate of the Dwemer, understanding their achievements, or replicating their technology. Some believe that our dependence upon magicka has stifled our natural capability for invention and innovation. That the infinite possibilities of mortal ingenuity has being sacrificed for the sake of a finite dogma, and the vainglory of the few.

Here we stand on the very doorstep of the Dwarven city of Nchu Duabthar in central Bangkorai, and yet so far none have been able to break open the city’s seal. Through the doors we can clearly hear the clank of pistons, grind of gears, and hiss of steam, only able to imagine the hustle and bustle of the automatons going about their daily routines, utterly oblivious to the outside world. We can feel the heat of a dynamic, working city through the walls, and we can watch the ground water gently vibrate with the each heartbeat of the hidden metropolis beneath.

What secrets lie behind these doors, what explanations, observations, interpretations and elucidations awaits? Perhaps one day it will here where we might discover something unequivocal and untaintable. Is Nchu Duabthar an answer, or just another question?

S.K

I return to Evermore to report the good news of our victory over the Hagraven Uela and her Reachmen, but I find the black banners of mourning still dress the outer walls of the palace, and the Queen’s court is grieving still.

Yet the Queen has news of her own; the Imperial Magus-General, Septima Tharn, has requested a parley. Queen Arzhula believes that Tharn has discovered, just as both the armies of the Orc Warlord Thulgeg, and the Grey Host of Verkarth did in times long past, that the Garrison at Bangkorai Pass is considered unassailable from the South.

Yet Arzhula is no fool and has asked not only myself, but also prominent members of the fighters and mages guilds to accompany her to the parley. It is good to see both Gabrielle and Darien again, very good. In my journey through these troubled lands there are but a handful of people whose intentions I would consider to be indubitable, and also consider to be my friends.

However, both guilds in the past have stated their neutrality in matters of state. Maybe they can argue that in time Septima Tharn’s aggression could be considered a threat to all Tamriel, especially given both her penchant for employing Molag Bal’s daedric forces, and the fate the Imperial City suffers under the Empress Clivia Tharn.

Yet still, whilst the presence of the Guilds is most welcome, I fear perhaps it violates their own integrity.

S.K

When Uela’s Dark Witnesses invaded Northern Bankorai they sought to overrun every piece of land from the Wrothgar mountains down to the Bjoulsae Bridge; apart that is from one small mine at the foot of the mountains. A wide birth was given to this former iron mine known locally as Torog’s Spite, likely because they’d heard that the Breton’s long ago gave it up to raiders from Wrothgar, and even the most barbaric of Reachmen tribes know better then to enter a dark hole full of Orcs.

In fact there are two Orsimer clans that have taken this mine, and whilst you may not guess it from the shouts, snarls, clash and clangs that echo throughout the close tunnels, these clans are allies with a common enemy. In spite of the signing of the Daggerfall Covenant, the bandits set out to pillage a notable Breton estate in retaliation for one of the countless times that men from High Rock had inflicted outrages upon Wrothgar. Now that the raid is done however, both clans want to take the credit for it, and this it seems has led to tension and brunt which is gradually spilling over into brawl and bloodshed.

It is unwise to get betwixt an Orc and his enemy, and it is twice as foolish still when that enemy is their own kin. Yet I figured with imprudent wisdom that I might be able to sneak through much of the mine unchallenged whilst the bandits were preoccupied with each other. As it turns out the Orc’s hatred for man supersedes even their dislike for one-another, and I soon found myself having to fight through every tunnel and cavern just to make it out alive.

S.K

For a generation the residents of Mucien’s Hamlet have been peaceable fished from the northern shores of the Halcyon and crossed the lake to sell their catch in Evermore. This despite other nearby villages suffering many Reachmen raids over the years, stealing away their produce, livestock and even children.

But now the Hamlet burns under the Reachman’s torch, and despite all efforts from the Evermore guard to take the village back, the barbarians hold it still, and there are few villagers now left alive.

It has been almost 40 years since the Black Drake’s dread army ravaged and pillaged it’s way across High Rock. When his bloody incursion was to eventually brake upon the gates of Daggerfall, not all the barbarians retreated back to their mountains. There is some evidence that in both Glenumbra and Northern Bangkorai many stayed, either laying roots in the wild fens, or settling amongst the Bretons in community.

But Reach blood runs thick in the veins, and when the Witchmen rode upon the south in number once again, some it seems donned barbaric leathers and furs and joined with their ancestors against their friends and neighbours.

In the feudal society of the Bretons displays of loyalty to ones heritage is oft celebrated, but this, this is nowt but treachery; for whilst treachery aimed at tyranny can be noble, when aimed at friends it is only a cowardice.

The men and women who rode from Evermore to Mucien’s Hamlet were ready to die for their neighbours, but they never realized that it would be those very same neighbours who would be waiting to kill them.

S.K