There is a darkness within every mortal, both you and me, all of us with a heart that beats, a soul that hopes, and a mind that dreams. Most of us keep that darkness bound and buried deep within, with chains wrought of conscience, empathy, and shared morality. But all it takes to break one or more of those chains is a perception of injustice, misunderstanding, or fear. And in that unleashed darkness do the deceitful flames of bigotry burn brightest, and in flares of umbrage we begin to justify that which we once held unjustifiable. Treachery and violence however are spears pointed at both ends, and wounds us just as deeply as those who were once our friends.

S.K

A Breton fleet has run aground on the ice sheets of Eastern Wrothgar after being blown off course by a blizzard whist attempting to round the Icy Shores. A small band of survivors from the three ships have set up camp to the southwest of Fharun Stronghold after their shipwrecked fleet was quickly overrun by scavenging Riekrs. The ships passengers were on a diplomatic mission between High Rock and Wrothgar, the Daggerfall Ambassador Lady Sovelle and her entourage on-route to negotiate a potential trade agreement with new Orsinium.

The camp survivors speak highly of the now missing ambassador, telling of how she stayed behind to help survivors escape from one of the sinking ships. Of her husband Ethian however, whose father owns the fleet, their opinions were saltier then the ocean waters. Whilst the fleet’s captain, Henrisa, seems almost uncaring about the fate of the Ambassador. I’m no navel expert but I am sure the traditional maritime practice is for a captain to be the last person to leave a sinking ship?

Whilst investigating the shattered wreck of the Pride of Northpoint, I was to discover an old ally trapped beneath a pile of crates. That most noble of Orcs, Skordo the Knife, is physically in bad shape; but in an even worse mood. He claims Ethian and a mage named Coris walked away from the wreck, leaving him there to die. Every tragedy has at least one of three causes, bad luck, bad decisions, or bad intentions. Scordo firmly firmly believes that the later is to blame for the grounding of the fleet, claiming that not everyone agrees with the peace between Bretons and Orcs, on both sides. He also claims to have overheard Captain Henrisa telling the ambassador just what she thought about the Orsimer. A letter I discover seemingly from Lord Ethian’s father to Captain Henrisa appears to support his accusations.

Lord Ethian may not have been fully privy to the perniciousness of this conspiracy, but still the treachery of a friend or family cuts far deeper than that of a foe.

S.K

What is a man’s worth, his past achievements, his present labours, or his ambitions? For most people as soon as they attain one ambition they see another one glittering higher still, but what if your past achievements were so extraordinary that they cannot be outshone? Is then every future ambition dulled by the shadow of your past achievement?

Near the entrance to a small cave I encounter the Dark Elf, Raynor Vanos. He explains proudly that as experts on Dwarven artifacts, he and his sister Kireth were invited by the King himself to survey the Dwarven ruins of Wrothgar. They had arrived at what he believes to be the ruins of Zthenganaz when his adventuresome sister Kireth had either slipped, fell, or jumped into the cave; he seems uncertain as to which. At the sight of the ice wraiths and dwarven automatons roaming the buried ruins, the more bookish Raynor was understandably reluctant to follow.

I was to find Kireth exploring much deeper inside the ruins, she asks that I might steal a Dwemer power core currently being guarded by a particularly large Dwarven centurion she calls ‘the Ztheng Guardian’. Apparently her brother can make use of the power core to create one of his ‘devices’ with which he hopes to impress his scholarly colleagues at either the Mages Guild or Shad Astula, or perhaps both.

I remember Raynor and Kireth were both members of the Coldharbour invasion force. The Mages guild had apparently sought them out for their aid, specifically for their dungeon-delving expertise. They were also members of the Army of Meridia, helping to guard our rear during our final assault upon the Planar Vortex, ensuring we were not flanked by the daedra. Kireth explains that after all the excitement of Coldharbour, they thought coming back to the mundane ruins of Nirn would be boring. But not only did they find their deeds opened up new opportunities for them, “it also gave us an appreciation for the simple things.” She said.

By contrast, after returning from Coldharbour to my modest home in Daggerfall, I was to find no comfort, and no appreciation in ‘the simple things’. Indeed, as the restlessness of my returned soul grew day by day, I felt an abrading need to go somewhere, see something, find something. It turned out all that would fill the empty hole left by an extraordinary ambition fulfilled, was a voracious appetite for more, no matter how dulled and tawdry they seemed. As to my worth? Well we shall see, but an Orc king’s ransom doesn’t sound too unreasonable for my either my achievements, labours, or ambitions.

S.K

Whilst searching through the Bonerock Caverns I was to discover a lone Khajiit apparently looking for his lost cat; surprisingly it turns out that he was also a member of the Orc hunting party for whom I was searching. The young Zhasim was apparently raised by the Orc tribe after being found forsaken in caverns as a cub. As we talk I begin to suspect that perhaps it was neither a lost cat nor the viscous Riekrs that led him here, but serendipity. For we were soon to discover that these were in fact the very caverns in which he was found abandoned.

My first thought was to send the Khajiit back to the safety of the camp, but sometimes even the most stoic of us reluctantly cede to empathy, for at some point in our lives we all suffer from a conflict of identity or loyalty. For me it was in the wake of the great anchor falling upon the City Isle that I, like many Legionnaires, was forced to choose between my vows to the Ruby Throne and my loyalty to the people of the Heartlands. Whilst others I have travelled with include Bretons who, whilst living in Rivenspire, were forced by Rancer to choose between King or kin. Redguard’s whose familys must choose between Crown or Forebear, Elves of Summerset who chose between nationalism or Alliance. The point is whether human or mer at some point in our lives we all make a choice of who we are.

I recall an old tale from Skyrim of a Nord hunting party who came across an Elven toddler who had lost his parents. After some discussion, they decided to take the toddler into their village and raise him as they would one of their own. Being raised as a Nord naturally the Elf grew up mistrusting others of his own natural race. But of course he always knew he was different from the family and people that raised him and eventually, once he’d grown to maturity, he set out into he world beyond the village to discover his identity for himself. He was soon to meet with other elves and when he told them of his strange upbringing, they informed him that his parents had been killed in a Nord attack that had wiped out his entire village. Feeling angry and betrayed he was persuaded to join up with an Elven guerrilla group who used his unique knowledge of the Nord territory to raid, pillage, and raze to the ground every rural Nordic town along the coast, including the one that raised him, killing everyone there. It was only later he was to discover that he had been lied to, and that in fact his parents had been killed during a Maormer raid.

I don’t know whether this tale is true or but propaganda or bard’s baroque, but there is a Bosmer saying which goes, ‘people without the knowledge of their past are like trees without roots.’ Whatever we discover together in these caverns it will be for Zhasim, and Zhasim alone to discover, and decide, who he really is.

S.K