Amidst the ruins of the once great Ayleid city of Erokii in Western Boralis, the combined forces of Rivenspire are camped waiting upon their bickering leaders to agree a plan to take them beyond the ancient defences of the Shrouded Pass, up the very summit of the Doomcrag, and into a final confrontation with Baron Montclair.

Once more it is Count Verandis Ravenwatch who takes command of the situation, as he has done so throughout, driven it seems by his own guilt.  I wonder what history will eventually say about this curious circumstance that sees a vampire leading the great houses of Rivenspire into a battle that could decide the future of all High Rock.

In the camp, I meet with the Breton Darien Gaultier who once more has rushed to the defence of High Rock and her people.  And the Orsimer Skordo, whose heroic exploits proved vital to the liberation of Northpoint.  If we are to face an entire legion of the undead, I would ask for non-others to stand beside me then Darien and Skordo, perhaps the last true Knights of High Rock.

S.K

As I finally reach the foot of the Doomcrag in Rivenspire, I am greeted once more by the dread overture of the dark anchor.  The deafening bawl of the obnoxious horns followed hard by the grinding of great chains proclaims Molag Bal’s latest attempt to drag all of Nirn into eternal bondage.

But once more the peoples of Tamriel, irrespective of gender, race, alliance, or guild, rush to repel the Daedric invaders.  Because freedom comes not from treaty, it comes from those who stand most alone, standing together as one.

It is we, the people of Tamriel who must hold back the Oblivion incursions, because the alliances and guilds exist not to ensure our freedom, they exist because of our freedom.

S.K

Erokii is believed to have once been the greatest of all the Ayleid cities in Northwest Tamriel, now however it is a carcass picked clean by carnivorous treasure hunters and tomb robbers.

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The relics of Erokii have been traded all over Tamriel for a thousand years, yet still the rapacious opportunists come, because the myths surrounding this long dead city, which are still sung about by tavern bards and debated by esteemed scholars alike, are just too seductive to disregard.

There is an old Colovian adage that goes ‘a myth is a simple truth wrapped in an elaborate lie’.  Perhaps, but the more I travel throughout Tamriel, the more I am discovering that many a myth turns out to be elaborately true.

Maybe it is then that the greatest myth of Erokii, the Tear of Anurraame, may in fact be true, and the relic most romanced by the bards, is buried somewhere deep in these very ruins, just waiting for a rapacious opportunist to recover.

S.K

In Siren’s Cove, near Northsalt,

Desuuga dances free,

singing her silvery serenade,

to the mariners of the sea.

‘Come set here your anchor,

and rest your aching oars,

come dance with me and caper,

upon my golden shores’.

As my boat drifted ever closer,

waves pulling me in near,

I could take not my eyes from her,

as her seduction filled my ear.

In the sun her scales did glisten,

with rich aqua hue,

her hair all trussed with seaweed,

shimmered deep marine blue.

I tried to resist her beckoning,

but my heart was fully stirred,

and few can resist enchantment,

when her haunting song is heard.

But as my boat reached sandy shore,

her sweet song swift turned sour,

and she summoned forth a tempest,

invoking oceans power.

Her fury was like the crashing of waves,

breaking upon the reef,

frost bolt, geyser, and blinding salt spray,

my shield my sole relief.

We battled for what felt like hours,

till finally I sunk deep my blade,

and the wondrous daughter of the sea,

shall dance no more this day.

S.K