To the west of Farragut Keep can be found the ruins of Fanacas, once a mining hold for the human slaves of the Ayleid empire, and according to scholars, perhaps the birthplace of the Tharn dynasty when one of their Nedic ancestors rose to the rank of slave overseer. Visitors have of late reported feeling a heavy aura about the ruins, as if dark and evil deeds of the past linger in the ancient stones.

All I was to find at Fanacas was a Breton enchantress and her soulbound servants preparing to perform a ritual she hopes will grant her great power. Mabrel Pierel speculates that countless offerings of blood and souls must have been made here for such an aura of evil to linger still. Her mad purpose is to open a pathway back to the days of the ancient Ayleids and use their power for her own insane ambitions.

Why is so often that evil endures the corrosion of history, when good does not? The mark of a kiss quickly vanishes, but the wound always leaves a scar. Perhaps evil is only remembered because history is dyed by the colours of our wants and desires. Even today people have a most annoying habit of only remembering the things they shouldn’t. Perhaps my blade will help this deranged enchantress to forget.

S.K

In a valley at the foot of the White Fall mountain can be found an Imperial estate next to which has been built an Orsimer Stronghold. An odd sight. It would not be unreasonable to presume that the Orcs had taken advantage of the ongoing war and laid claim to an abandoned estate whose previous owners had either fled or perished. Or, more likely, with no effective Legion left to protect the province, these savage Orc’s had taken it by force. But as it turns out this particular clan had enough wealth to purchase the estate legally before attaching their stronghold and renaming it the Shurgak Clan Estate.

Orc’s settling in Cyrodiil is of course not uncommon, I’ve mentioned before about the Orsimer units within the legions I saw that scared even their fellow legionnaires. It is not unusual therefore for an Orc veteran to retire to the Heartland’s countryside on a handsome stipend; but rarely a whole tribe. I guess choosing to live so far away from Wrothgar they can avoid paying levies to the Orsinium King. The tribe themselves prove not to be very welcoming hosts, but I suppose with so many bandits and Banners crossing the mountains it is only natural for them to tip their weapons rather then their caps in greeting. Such defensiveness however does little to assuage the locals rumours that there is a horde of great wealth hidden somewhere on the estate.

At a lake to the west of the estate I meet a drunken artist and a surly Nightblade. Both have come to the secluded lake seeking inspiration for very different reasons. The Orcs of the Shurgak Estate come here also to fish and draw water, as does plenty of wildlife. Soldiers come here as it’s bridge is the shortest route between Farragut and Kingscrest, whilst pilgrims also make use of the crossing on their journey to the revered Temple of the Ancestor Moths to the North. All these disparate people and creatures whom share no connection or empathy come to this same lake, take what they need and return to their stories. That is until inevitably some selfish bastard will decide to build a fence around the lake. How can there ever be peace in Tamriel when we forget that Tamriel belongs to us all?

S.K

I arrive at the foothills of the White Fall Mountain, the quickest way across it seems is a trail that leads all the way up to the summit. Unbeknownst to me the peak is the home of the giant Malvor, the king of the mountain; well in his mind anyway. I guess they do say that a Kingdom is not a place but a state of mind. As I reach the summit and survey the lands from his mountain home I can see why he might feel like a king.

Giants are not often seen in Cyrodiil nowadays, thy tend to stick to inhospitable mountains and the Northern wilderness. In Skyrim and Orsinium giants are said to be a common sight, often more nomadic and travelling in groups with herds of mammoths between seasonal camps across the lands. Giants in Cyrodiil however tend to be much more solitary, only gathering occasionally at ceremonial sites to trade, and mate, usually away from the prying eyes of man or mer.

The common perception is that they are harmless if left alone, but when disturbed become very territorial and aggressive to perceived intruders, be they man or beast. They seem more tolerant of Nords however, perhaps because of familiarity, or maybe that some Nords consider them but distant cousins. Certainly some Nord maids I have met have shared their grey skin and hairy feet. They seem particularly hostile to elves though. That may be because elvish alchemists in particular prize their toes as an ingredient for their potions, apparently having a positive affect upon ones good health, stamina, and oral hygiene.

Malvor clearly was not expecting any visitors today as he seemed most put out by my presence, greeting me with a swing of his massive club. As I entered the Ayleid entrance which led into a tunnel down though and eventually out of the mountain, I contemplated his demise. A solitary king is never safe, for whether in the own mind or worn atop the head, it takes but a sceptered blade to sever crown from pate.

S.K

The Quickwater Cave within the Cheydinhal Foothills is now but another camp for the bandit gand known as the Black Daggers, who are well known throughout the Heartlands having plagued the northern Colovian countryside for many, many years. Recently however, perhaps due to the fracturing of the Legions, or simply guile and knavery amidst the chaos of war, they have managed to expand their operations throughout Cyrodiil. The focus of this particular group seems to be the town of Cheydinhal. Perhaps the town’s Imperial garrison and armed militia might sombre their ambition, if only they could just stop fighting each other.

The cave itself seems much like any other, a dark and shadowy place that’s oddly warm when it’s cold out and cold when it’s warm. A place where you can find or lose yourself depending on your heart. And a place that can be filled with monsters, and yet is far more horrible to man when it is full of emptiness and nothingness. But this particular cave does have one unique feature. To reach its deepest caverns one must be willing to get a little wet, by diving through a whirlpool.

I have speculated before that the Black Daggers might have a nefarious contact or two rousing their efforts to undermine this province, and the presence of a rather large Daedroth within the deepest caverns certainly suggests that the bandits are either working for, or with, a Daedic prince. Alas for the Black Daggers, for even the most bladdered Nord scholar will teach that the only safe alliance is when each party is equally afraid of the other. Pity the skeever that befriends the hungry wolf to raid the sheep’s pen.

S.K