On the southern coast of Stormhaven, hidden amongst rock and sand bank is the entrance to an excavation whose original purpose is lost to history.  For many a generation however it has been used by the smugglers and pirates of Iliac bay to move goods to and from High Rock’s docks without attracting the attentions of Breton authorities.

Although recently closed down by the Lion Guard, it did not take the Midnight Union long to move in.  I discover neglected correspondence further suggesting at links between the Union and the cult of Supernal Dreamers, and that is all the reason I need to clear this delve of rat and skeever once and for all.

S.K

Farangel’s Landing is a large estate and dock just outside the southwest gates of Wayrest.  Whilst passing through I am approached by a troubled Breton of noble appearance.  Serge Arcole claims that the Midnight Union have taken his estate and kidnapped his wife for ransom.

When you live life on the edge of a blade, sometimes despite the best of intentions, you will be the villain.  It is the millstone of the mercenary that inevitably you will make wrong judgments, and sometimes you will be outwitted and used as a tool by others of dishonourable intent.

A mercenary’s life is all about balancing; the weight of your conscious against the weight of your purse, the weight of a deed against the weight of a consequence, and the weight of your vengeance against the weight of their ‘dishonourable intent’.

S.K

There is an old Colovian adage which says, ‘the traveller loses a small piece of his heart in every city tavern’.  Certainly, most travellers believe that the heart of every town is its tavern, but in truth, any that has spent time living amongst Bretons will tell you that the heart of any High Rock town is most definitely its treasury.

The innkeeper of the Cloudy Dregs inn, Cherese Brigette, offers a warm welcome to all irrespective of race or stature.  No matter the time of day or night her bar is always full of weary travellers hungry for refreshment and rumour, and of regulars thirsting to forget their misery, heal heart, and imagine themselves, for a while at least, happy.

On most nights a visitor might get to meet Annabelle, the attractive dusky barmaid who seems to sup more then she sells; whilst almost a fixture sitting by the hearth one might find the sea captain Marck who never sets sail.

In a room on the first floor the Midnight Union’s moneylender has a chain of prospective clientele anxiously awaiting audience.  Word on the street is that S’rashi has work for any adventurer looking to earn a few extra coins, so long as you are willing to leave your morals at the tavern door.

The bard Oceane’s melodious voice fills the tavern with ballads and odes from all over Tamriel, whilst very occasionally, if you are so lucky, you might get to witness the mysterious Khajiit Arincra Shadowfur take to the stage and perform her hypnotic Two Moons dance; but beware, you wouldn’t be the first traveller to lose a small piece of your heart in the Cloudy Dregs Inn.

S.K

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The history of Wayrest has kept tavern bards across Tamriel well fed and wetted for generations.  Once but a trifling fishing village sitting atop the mouth of the Bjoulsae River, now the grandiose capitol of all Breton lands, and the heart of Emeric’s Covenant.

Wayrest is a city of echoes.  As you ride through her imposing gates you perceive the weight of that history in her stoic walls, her every street is an interpretation of this age, and her every building is a story set in stone.  She is a city that rouses the ambitious for good and ill; hated by Ranser, coveted by the Black Drake, envied by Daggerfall, mistrusted by Orsinium.  She is a flirtation that haunts the hearts of all who see her grim beauty. 

The Summerset Elves say that Breton architecture is all alike, as if there were only one architect in all Stormhaven who had a very singular obsession.  But unlike the high elves, Breton’s appreciate that buildings should serve people, not the other way around.  Societies raise their highest monuments to what their people value the most; thus it is that the Wayrest skyline is dominated by the treasury, temple, and castle.

But a great city is not gauged by its broadness, or the height of its minarets.  What makes a city great is its people, as flawed and fickle and uncertain as they may be.  Wayrest is a city of merchant and maker, of traveller and adventurer, of diplomat and soldier, of artist and bard, of blacksmith and tailor, of alchemist and apothecary, of brewer and baker and of noble and scullion.  It is a city of Bretons; yet also of Orcs, of Redguard, of Elves, of Cyrodiilics, of Nord, and of Beastmen.  It is a city of all Tamriel, and within it all may find brotherhood, and a sense of our dependence, one upon another.

S.K