Atop the tallest hill in the city Belkarth sits an Observatory. It is the home of the Star-Gazers, a group of scholars who the locals tell me are thought of as at best eccentrics, at worst moonstruck. Yet their principle theories, that the stars are bridges to Aetherius, and the constellations are transmundane collections of these stars, seem in accordance with the theories of many academics across Tamriel.

Throughout history the constellations have been used to impart stories of beliefs, creation, and mythology. Indeed it is a widely held belief that being born under the influence of any of these signs has a profound impact on the whole of our lives. And what more tangible evidence of the power of the constellations are there then the Mundas stones found throughout Tamriel, granting their blessings upon any who are open to receive them.

Hara, the Star-Gazers leader, tells that a short while ago the three guardian signs, the Warrior, Mage, and Thief, disappeared from the night sky along with that unbound agitator, the Serpent. Soon after their disappearance three powerful beings calling themselves the Celestials began an assault upon Craglorn. They have identified themselves as the Warrior, Mage, and Serpent, whilst the Thief has yet to reveal itself.

The Serpent has reportedly gathered its forces in the mountainous regions to the north, driving the Dragontail Orcs from their homes. To the east Atronachs that were once summoned to defend Craglorn against the Dark Anchors, answer now to a new master and attack those they once served. Whilst to the west a brutal army of ancient Yokudan warriors known as the Anka-Ra maraud  seemingly unchallenged across the barren wastes.

Craglorn is a land under siege by malevolent forces from abroad and beyond and it is to the Star-Gazers that the people of Craglorn now look to for deliverance. Yet the Star-Gazers are but scholars, so they wisely opened their doors and welcomed the once shunned Fighters and Mages guilds to share their halls. And now they welcome veterans and soldiers of fortune like myself into their order.

During my initiation, an apparition appears before me claiming to be the Celestial Thief. It alleges that the Serpent has trapped the Mage and the Warrior and is forcing them against their true nature to attack Craglorn. It is a lot to take on faith, and I am not usually a bird that signs before the sun has risen.

None of us knows what is to come and whether the sun will rise again tomorrow, yet still we go forward every day because faith is not about eliminating the questions, but about finding the answers. So we must go out into this most rugged of lands and take the fight to our enemies wherever they slither, and force these Celestials to show their true nature.

S.K

“Doom has come to Craglorn!” yelled the Star-gazer, “Doom!”

If ever there were a city founded upon a bedrock of foreboding, then it is Belkarth. For was not Belkarth built as a waypoint for the wayward, a shelter for the fugitives and outlaws fleeing from Cyrodiil and High Rock? And indeed, has the city not prospered ever since upon the purses of unscrupulous merchants, thieves, and smugglers?

Even today as I took my first steps from the cart, dodging the numerous charging horses, guar and senche, looking about the streets all I see are mercenaries and soldiers of fortune. Blades and staves for hire for whom violence is usually the first resort.

Sand blown in by the strong winds from the surrounding rocky crags rage through the streets like a drunk Nord screaming in a tavern, and my clothes, hair and throat are soon covered in dust. I cross the open bazaar in the middle of town but do not tarry to browse or barter, for the traders stalls here are strictly for the caravans and travellers. The true trade of Belkarth takes place at the notorious City’s Edge Stalls on the outskirts, away from the prying eyes of Belkarth’s guards and bailiffs.

And beyond the bazaar sits the infamous Crossroads Tavern where I hope to find myself board and lodgings. My chances though are slim, for Belkarth is a fugitive place, the kind of place where everybody is from somewhere else. Full of people who are either chasing dreams, or running from nightmares; and everybody keeps their bags packed, just in case.

S.K