To the "Prince" who dared contrive
The negation of our aim
- Our noblest King revived
And Nirn reshaped in his name:

In Meridia's lea, that dreadful morn
I beheld your abject form
And with you, well manifest
An artifact of interest.

Which led me to grave reflect
A condign bargain to suggest:
In barter for Meridia's Light -
A precious good: The Great Mage's life.

Lest this to any questions led:
It's not an offer, it's a threat.

Glory to Mannimarco!

- Epitapher Syldras,
Worm Cult Ritualist and Necromancer Poet

Prince Azah,

In a conversation we had, you presented what I consider an incorrect version of the history between your people and Clan Corelanya. According to most history texts, the Ra Gada were invaders and colonizers who brutally drove the elves out of their home. Why do you believe otherwise?

Regards,
Arcerus Relthen, founding member of the Stirk Fellowship

cleared

To His Royal Highness, Prince Azah,

While the Three Alliances have agreed to join forces, I wonder why no effort was made to contact imperial forces regarding the Stirk Fellowship. Cyrodiil is the province most ravaged by the Worm Cult and there are still organized imperial legions out there. The Legions are no longer bound to the Tharns. We, Cyrodiils, wish to take part in this fight as well.

A friend,
Reman IV, Count of Redwater and Lord of Linchal

Prince Azah,

Though my words may seem strange, perhaps even foolish, I implore you to listen. Faced with the growing threat of a powerful necromantic cult, I cannot in good conscience ignore the troubling rumors that circulate among our ranks.

Since the day our proud fellowship set foot upon Solstice and entered open conflict with the Worm Cult, many of our warriors have begun to share astonishing accounts. They speak of certain fighters among us who, after falling in battle, rise again within mere seconds—unharmed, undaunted, and ready to continue the fight as if death had not touched them.

As a scribe of the Stirk Fellowship, I could not turn a blind eye. I questioned several eyewitnesses, and their stories were remarkably consistent. One in particular remains etched in my mind: an archer told me that during the assault on Sunport, she witnessed a massive flesh colossus strike down one of our warriors with a single crushing blow from its mace-like fist—splatting him against a wall. Moments later, his remains turned into a glowing, bluish substance, reformed into his original body, and he rose again, ready to fight.

All who claimed to witness such events describe the same thing: just before resurrection, the bodies of these fallen fighters took on the appearance of translucent bluish jelly. I cannot determine whether they all speak of the same individual—or of many. But perhaps that detail is irrelevant.

Prince Azah, what if this is the work of necromancers? What if these resurrected warriors are not truly our comrades, but instruments of our enemies?

I lack the words in the common tongue to fully express my unease.

—Scribe Telmerinve