I may be without a soul, but I still have a heart… and that heart beats a little faster each time I meet with Lerisa.

S.K

I’ve never feared ghosts.  Back in Cyrodiil I was always taught that the spirits of the dead aren’t haunting us, they only remain present because we won’t let go of them.

There is something sinister at work that binds these Orcish spirits to this mortal plane, and as I am forced to fight my way through them to reach the source of this evil, I can only pray that the Divines might set them back upon the path to eternal sanctuary.

S.K

In an old Breton cemetery of the Isle of Betnikh, the Bloodthorn Cult’s evil intentions manifests into the physical world under the guise of the three abominations of Hate, Wrath and Fear.

S.K

Long into deep abyss of night, the necromancers toil,

from evocation of the dead, to purging of the soul.

Unmindful of lingering spirits, wretched in solemn despair,

let loose memories of their final breaths upon the chill night air.

And Underneath livid shadows, of headstone, tomb, and shrine,

tincture of the necromancer’s brew, seeps darkness into vein.

‘Rouse forth from eternal slumber thrall, and claim thine corpse again,

for tonight you feast and carousal, on warm blood, and mortal pain.’

S.K

The Orcs are out searching for signs of the cult that attacked their homes.  I pity those that provoke the wrath of the Orsimer.  No longer does each new dawn herald a day to be lived, instead for them, the new dawn is but a prelude of a night to be survived.

S.K