Growing up a city boy I never took much notice of the harvest festivals.  But I do remember the market days when farmers and rural dwellers would pour into the city trying to pedal their produce.  As I recall, they were a preachy lot to us locals, always banging on about the law of harvest.  It went something like, ‘it matters not how much it rains or shines, because with enough hard work and dedication, you will always reap more then you sow’.

I never liked farmers, which is perhaps why I was not altogether unsympathetic with the cause of this Daedric lord, that is… until he tried to ‘harvest’ me!

S.K

I’ve been back in Daggerfall just a few days and yet I’ve managed to get myself mixed up in plot and conspiracy aplenty.  From dead bodies in side-streets, to monsters in waterways, caballers in taverns, to assassins in castles; Daggerfall is making Stros M’Kai look like the garden of the Divines.

Oh, but I did get the honour of meeting King Casimir III who for the record, dresses like a peacock.

S.K

I met with the old man who calls himself the Prophet at the secluded cave just outside of Daggerfall.  He showed me a vision of the past; a gathering, a ritual, and a betrayal.  This was the Soulburst, the catalyst, the kindle, the inception of Molag Bal’s Planemeld.

S.K

There are always lessons to be learnt from the many mistakes one makes in battle, but the one thing I never seem to learn is to stop making them.

S.K

We all like to dream ourselves the hero.  When the monster attacks our egos would have us believe that we’d be the one to pick up the weapons, so as to defend the weak, to shield the innocent, and to slay the beast.  But in truth, we can never quite know how we will react until that moment comes when we are face to face with savagery.

For the record… I froze in fear, my breath faltered, I felt faint of heart, and I prayed that a hero might come and save me… and only then did I cleave the beasts head from atop its shoulders.

S.K