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It is said in Northpoint that a person’s worth is not measured by the weight of coins in their pockets, but by the weight of the ambitions in their hearts.

Founded in the First Era by an enterprising trader to take advantage of the deep waters of the Boralis coastlines and create a waypoint on the maritime trade route between the great cities of Daggerfall and Solitude.  That merchant was eventually to take the name Dorell, after the Dore Elard heights, upon which he founded his walled city.

Not so long ago this was still a bustling hub full of tradesman and brokers, of pioneers and pirates, and of the ambitious and the resourceful, all seeking to claim a slice of the wealth that flowed daily through the Northpoint docks.  The city’s marketplace was a theatre of trade and commerce, with House Dorell for generations acting as puppeteers from behind the curtains.  The current ruler, Baron Alard Dorell, spent most of his days in the regions capital Shornhelm serving as part of Rivenspire’s ruling triumvirate, leaving the everyday running of his city to his son Lord Ellic Dorell.

But everything changed with the arrival of the daughter of House Montclair.   Utilizing the power of the Lightless Remnant, Lady Lleraya Montclair manipulated the young Dorell and his Breton nobles to take control over the entire city.  And just as she did in Moira’s Hope, turned many of the citizens into the feral bloodfiends that now roam the city’s avenues making feast upon the corpses of their former friends and neighbours.

A stench of blood and carrion hangs heavily over the laconic streets, which are held easily against the once vaunted Northpoint guard by the giant roaming gargoyles.  Meanwhile Lleraya’s vampire troops search building to building, sniffing hound-like for any living that remain.  It is surely only a matter of time before this once dynamic city is little more than a cadaver.

Now the only ambition of any worth for the people of Northpoint is to survive the day.

S.K

An old smugglers tunnels hidden in a small cove beneath the Northpoint lighthouse appears to offer our only way into the captured city.  First however we need to retrieve the gate key from the shipwrecked Lagra’s Pearl, stranded further down the beach.

S.K

Whilst I spent a cold night scouting behind enemy lines, fighting soldiers both live and undead, crouched in filthy ditch and muddy field, searching in vain for a way into the walled city, Darien Gautier was busy in the Officer’s cabin, carrying out his own reconnaissance… in his own way.

What irks me most is not that I got the Guar’s end of the deal, nor that the Breton proved far more successful in learning of a smugglers tunnel into the heart of the city, what really, really irks me the most… is that smug smile.

S.K

In the depths of the ancient subterranean settlement known only as ‘Orc’s Finger ruins’, an Ayleid Well still radiates magical energy just as it has done for the many hundreds of years since the Ayleid’s were forced to abandon their great cities.

As a young man exploring my homeland of Cyrodiil, we would occasionally discover such Ayleid monuments in the wilds.  I remember vividly the sensations as we approached the Wells light, how my skin would tingle, and I would quickly begin to feel invigorated, full of energy, both physically and mentally.  However, once we knew where such Wells were located, we would be sure to steer clear for they would attract all sorts of strange and unsavoury characters.  Nomadic Elven sorcerers, Hagravens, gangs of Breton cultists, and even at one we watched dumbfounded as a band of Bandaari Peddlers were attempting to bottle the light.

History scholars often teach that these Ayleid Wells inhale their magic from the stars at night and then slowly breathe the energies back into the skies when fully charged.  One wonders the plausibility of such an explanation given how far underground this Well is built.

Some have proposed the Well’s location is the key; suggesting that they were built upon points where ancient lines of mystical energies crossed or met.  I have even heard a tavern theory that they were built to mirror upon Nirn the constellations in the sky.  Whilst both highly unlikely, no-one has as yet been able to map their locations to fully disprove either theory.

It is all just conjecture of course, the Ayleids like the Dwemer, have now passed from Nirn and took much of their knowledge with them, leaving even our brightest scholars with only suppositions, theories, and empty bottles of light.

S.K

Whilst searching south of Northpoint I discover the entrance to an Ayleid delve known locally as ‘Orc’s Finger ruins’.  Perhaps it gained its contemporary nickname from the shape of the rocky crags that shadow its entrance, for the original name for the Ayleid settlement appears now lost to history.

Inside the ancient hallways and chambers remain remarkably well preserved, with the crystals still lighting much of the subterranean city long after the light of their architects have faded from Tamriel.

It is no surprise to find that Bitterhand Bandits have found their way into the ruins, squatting in the dank, mucid corridors, waiting upon the night when they surface like skeevers to pick at the corpses of those who would brave the day.

The defeat of their rather inordinately named leader, Fingaenion Forestsmasher, may serve to keep the rodents in their hole for a while at least.

S.K