Hope fades, with the setting of the sun,

anchors falling, savage brume choking lungs.

The Banners dance, across our wounded home,

Alessia weeps, for the fires that no longer burn.

–

Ere the vipers fled, and the crowing caws now gone,

o treacherous legion, seating worm upon throne,

our Heartland altars, no more divine.

–

Upon the winds, their chorus sails,

echoes of a revolution still sung.

Shadows lift, heavens hue foretells,

the red dawn calling you home.

–

Akatosh’s legacy, by sin or virtue fades,

honour Whitestrake, who lived and died as none.

–

Forget not, how White-Gold tamed jungle to home,

or how crops thrived, by the grace of the Niben.

How thirst was quenched, by vines of West Weald,

and by Jerall and Valus, the Heartland shield our kin.

–

Wherefore art now thou blades, and thou spells to light the dark?

–

Upon the winds, their chorus sails,

echoes of a revolution still sung.

Shadows lift, heavens hue foretells,

the red dawn calling you home.

–

Let heathens tremble, under pounding hooves,

banners streaming, and trumpets clarion,

the Red Legions riding home.

S.K

Although the leaders of the three Banners alliances refused us men or mer, we have an army of sorts, made up of individuals from the Fighters and Mages Guilds. Though we are too few to storm the ramparts of Coldharbour alone, we will take our fight for freedom into the realm of Oblivion nonetheless. For our freedom from Molag Bal’s Planemeld exists not because of the Banner alliances, but because of those who stand most alone, standing together as one.

S.K

The lead up to the All Banners negotiations on the Isle of Stirk was my first opportunity to meet with all three of the Alliance leaders; if one doesn’t include the twisted play of the Mad God’s imagination. Whilst King Emeric’s political acumen is arguably unrivalled, and the uncompromising Skald-King was as imposing in personality as he is in stature, it was Queen Ayrenn of the Aldmeri Dominion who impressed me the most. Her equanimous demeanour belies her youth, whilst her voice, as warm as early spring, spoke with civility, dignity, and prudence throughout. No human would ever wish to live again under an empire run by Elves, yet I have to admit, of the three leaders I believe that perhaps Queen Ayrenn would sit most comfortably atop the Ruby Throne.

S.K

It was from the Isle of Stirk in the Abecean Sea that some twelve hundred years ago the All Flags Navy set sail to Thras to end the Sload threat to Tamriel. So what better place now for the grand leaders of Tamriel to meet and discuss a possible counter-invasion of Coldharbour.

Alas however the negotiations fail, for no side is willing to commit troops to the cause thus weakening their forces in the Three Banners war. What use will be a Ruby throne when they are kneeling to Molag Bal?

The ‘neutral’ Guild leaders offer a compromise, yet before agreements can be secured, the skies darken and amidst the taunts and threats of the Lord of Brutality, a storm of daedra breaks upon the isle, and the leaders of Tamriel find themselves fighting for their very lives. 

Perhaps it is that the leaders might have agreed to the guilds proposal before the daedra attack, but I’d like to think it will make for a far better bards tale if it were Molag Bal’s surprise attack that finally swayed the argument.

S.K

Oh deceitful Mannimarco, how long have I sought thee. From the moment you ripped my soul from my body with your ritual bodkin, to my grim prison cell in Coldharbour. Across all the lands High Rock and Hammerfell have I chased your worms and now finally we meet again, perhaps fittingly in the Vault of Kings deep beneath the Jerall Mountains.

Oh sly Mannimarco, vengeance has been my engine. Bitterness rooted deep inside me where my soul should rest, grates, abrades, and grinds; oh how it has hardened my heart. Vengeance, that great motivator of men has for so long been my only muse, and now finally I get to shed her injurious shadow and sow my vengeful wrath and fury upon thee.

Nothing, nothing, nothing… No joy, no triumph, no relief.

Oh thief Mannimarco, even in defeat you swindle me. Cold vengeance warms not the spirit. It has done nothing to salve my pain, nothing to heal my scars, nothing to fill my desolate, hollow emptiness. Is it only within my soul that I can find peace?

We have the amulet, but the planemeld rages still and with everyday that passes the chains of Coldharbour tighten. It is time we take the fight to those demons in the outer dark. But we five alone cannot hope to invade a realm of Oblivion. We are going to need an army.

S.K