On the southern shores of the Halcyon Lake in Bangkorai I meet with Zaag, a member of the Dragonstar Caravan Company who requests my aid in her seemingly simple assignment of accompanying a mage through the nearby Silaseli Ruins. However the mage, who has somehow managed to turn himself into iron, claims to have lost his emotions and refuses to leave the wisp infested ruins without them.

An Orc mercenary fretting over a supine iron Breton in an ancient Elven ruin, I touch the relic certain that even an Ayleid dreamstate couldn’t be any more surreal then this.

S.K

The Captain’s daughter has become another victim of the Reachmen’s foul magics, even as we speak before the gates of Evermore the rotten Bloodthorn seed begins to take root deep in her heart. In what is painted as an honourable sacrifice, she allows the Wyress sister to kill her in front of her father and comrades before the corruption takes full hold.

I see no honour in this scene before me, just a meek surrender to fate; a soldier should either live with honour or die with honour.

I’d like to think that if I knew the coming hour of my doom I’d ring it in with a clash of my sword upon shield and take a few of those bastards with me, to at least inspire those comrades I leave behind, and perchance sate my vengeance enough that I might earn a more restful slumber beyond.

S.K

In an old farmhouse overlooking the Northglen farmstead, Duraeg performs his vile Reach-craft upon a helpless Evermore guard. Wielding a giant axe and armour festooned in the bones of his victims, the Reachman leader makes for an intimidating sight.

But no mater how fierce a man dresses, or how formidable he measures himself, sooner or later someone will walk through the door who will have seen beyond this realm and have no fear of mortal man. They will look at him and see little more then just another mountain boor dressed in rotting leather rags and scavenged bone.

It is then we will learn the true measure of this Reachman.

S.K

If anything, the Wyrd sisters I meet outside an old Ayleid ruin in Bangkorai are even more brusque and boorish then the Beldama Wyrd of Glenumbra. They care little for the affairs of men and mer so long as it doesn’t encroach upon their forests. For them, Evermore is as an unwelcome and untrustworthy a neighbour as the Orcs of Wrothgar, or the Witchmen of High Rock.

Yet even they now see the threat posed to their lands by the vile Reach magics being practised in the fields of the Northglen Farm, as their own ancient Wyrd magics fail to repel it. The insatiable hunger of the Bloodthorn zombies being raised by these Dark Witnesses would soon gorge upon all life in their Viridian Woods like a pack of starved skeevers in a Bosmer’s pantry.

S.K