To most people the crustacean race of Dreugh are an enigma.  Common belief is that whilst they usually inhabit the coastal waters, for a year of their lives they will migrate inland to breed.  Favouring mud, marsh and river bank, it is not unknown for Dreugh to have been encountered as far inland as Cyrodiil.  Some scholar’s however have argued that the Land and Water Dreugh are in fact two distinct species.

The Dunmeri, who hunt Dreugh for their hide with which they fashion weapon and armour, teach that the Dreugh were actually devolved from a far more intelligent race that once dominated Tamriel.  According to their histories, colonies of Dreugh once lived in stone, glass and coral structures, but have since devolved into the more primitive creatures we see today as a direct result of centuries of conflict with the Dark Elves.

Histories are sometimes written not for prosperity, but for propaganda.  The sceptic might suggest that the Dreugh were once far more common before the Dark Elves voracious hunting drove them into more coastal fringes, and that the myth of the great Dreugh civilization is but an embroidery of the truth intended to impress upon outsiders the potential dangers of future disagreements with the Dunmeri.  

The sole truth about Dreugh of which I am now certain is that those I battled in Dreughside today fully lived up to their reputation as ferocious and dangerous enemies.  Their serrated claws and sharp pincers are enough to shred and lacerate even the most well armoured Knight; but it is their powerful shock and lightning attacks that are more likely to catch the inexperienced off-guard, leaving them unconscious and helpless to prevent the Dreugh from cocooning their still living bodies in mud to feed their hatchling young.

S.K

A goblin tribe has infested the catacombs beneath Pariah Abbey, setting up camps inside and outside of the tomb.  Members of the Spirit Warden order have been sent to investigate, but thus far none have returned.  Once these were the principle burial grounds for Stormhaven’s nobility, now just another of High Rocks derelict mausoleums slowly eroding away into forgotten yore.

I enter the catacombs half of the opinion that perhaps we should just leave the green skins to their pit; let them rot down here with the rats and crawlers.  But soon I find evidence that there is something far, far worse than mere goblin and durzog prowling beneath this Abbey.

In the nethermost chamber I spy it, the animated bones of a dead being.  Taller than an Altmer, perhaps even broader then an Orc; it was difficult to fully gage its size as it was stooped over the remains of numerous goblin dead.  I began to creep closer but soon I was stopped dead in my tracks by an unexpected sight which filled me with equal measure of revile and horror.  The skeleton was feasting upon the flesh of the dead!

Even the most odious realms of Oblivion has yet to spawn such an abomination as this.  There is no nourishment to reap for the skeleton, no digestion, no hunger to sate, even the zombie feeds for sustenance.  This thing was feeding upon mortal flesh for desecration sake.

I charge and take the abomination unaware, but swiftly it becomes apparent that thrust and parry cannot win this fight.  Even a clean strike from my Orichalc-wrought blade could not so much as make a knick in the skeleton’s ribs.  But sword and shield are not my only weapons.  I began training in the traditions of the Dragonguard when I first entered the Legion.  I believe with much discipline endued, I now wield Draconic flames with such art that might shame a flame atronach, or rouse envy from a Dunmar pyromancer.

Nothing of Nirn is infrangible, it is the first principle of a mortal realm, all that is kindled will eventually burn to ash.

S.K

To the east of Pariah Abbey the hills crawl with scamp and cultist.  A group of Supernal Dreamers have managed to open numerous portals through which the vile scamps spew forth from Vaermina’s realm.

In a nearby cave, the brother of the Abbot is magically bound.  Partially possessed by Daedric spirit, only his strength of will holds back the eventual and inevitable; he bravely councils his own death.

A decision needs to be made, one life for another, to honour a willing sacrifice or to kill an indoctrinated fool.

Perhaps it is that as a soldier I too have succumbed to indoctrination as much as the fool, but I cannot resolve beyond my conviction that one cannot hide from consequence behind ignorance, nor mitigate repercussion; thus the fool dies.

As I step through the portal into Quagmire to face Vaermina’s pet, I ponder my own repercussions, and wonder who will be judge of my ignorance. 

S.K

In the transepts of Pariah Abbey in Northern Stormhaven, a young Breton named Sister Janise compassionately tends to the injured and hurt.  She is like a star in these troubled times; the darker the night, the brighter she shines.

What are my prayers but hollow breaths,
what are my dreams but hopes immure,
What are my fears that shadow each thought.
Sister Janise comfort me…

Under Azure’s gaze she tends to wound,
With bandage, balm and words that soothe,
granting peace and serenity to tortured hearts.
Sister Janise comforts me…

Her smile as captivating as candle light,
Her voice enchanting like a moonlit tarn,
Her words uplifting as the morning sun.
Sister Janise comforts me…

From her warm heart dismay takes flight,
optimism a kindle that her smile ignites,
her grace an inspiration to every word I write.
Sister Janise comforts me….

What are my prayers now but promise and wish,
what are my dreams but reality yet touched,
what are my fears but another enemy to smite.
Sister Janise comforted me.

S.K

The Pariah Abbey is dedicated to Azura, whose sphere of influence is dawn and dusk, that mystic realm of twilight, that haze twixt night and day.  She is sometimes called the Queen of the Night Sky, her plane is known as Moonshadow, where she is said to reside in a rose palace at the heart of a silver city… She is also a Daedric Prince.

This priory of Daedric worship is ‘tolerated’ by the Breton King Emeric because they have for many years supplied Wayrest with potions that are said to prevent the dreaming of dreams.  Abbot Durak claims he founded the Abbey under instruction of Azura herself to prepare for this very time when Vaermina would strike at the peoples of Stormhaven with ‘a plague of nightmares’.

The Midnight Union however have stolen a relic called the dream shard, a piece of the Moonshadow realm through which the Spirit Wardens distil water from the cave of dreams to create their dreamless potions.  If Emeric were to suffer the same fate as Pascal, Sir Hughes or Rosalie Nurin then this Covenant would quickly fall to the mercy of Vaermina, the Daedric prince of nightmares, cerebral terrors, and evil omens.

I wonder why Vaermina has taken such an ardent interest in High Rock, and indeed, what are Azura’s motives in defending it.  Not for the first time I am wondering who I should trust least, friend or foe.  I feel like a game piece being moved around a gaming board by a player who is unsure of the rules.

S.K