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The Battle Of Old Fell's Fort

Ultimatum3122
Ultimatum3122
Soul Shriven
The Battle Of Old Fell’s Fort


Among the many histories of Tamriel, amidst the vast books and scrolls, one script would read deep into the lore of what bloodied conquest had taken place at this Stronghold. We look to the observed account of a studying Dunmer that had so been fortunate enough, if such a choice of words would be correct, to witness this onslaught.


“It was the last of Nirn’s light, the warming star that given us day, setting to rest in the early eve of Frost Fall’s Fredas. I’d had chosen to take upon residence with the oddly accommodating Orc band before continuing my journey into High Rock’s history. I took their hospitality as an opportunity to study more about one of these land’s prime occupants.”

“We followed the road along Fell’s Run North, until we reached the old fort up ahead. Hmph, Old Fell’s Fort it was called, quite the apt name I suppose… Lacks imagination. The battalion I travelled with was quite impressive, consisting of nearly all only Orcish kind, with a few mixes of Redguard and Bosmer scouting units, although I didn’t really get to see much of them, kept quite to themselves; but what I was to see, I wish I rather hadn’t.”

“We managed to reach the Fort before sundown, it seemed strong, much of it well defended by the immovable mountain side, the remainder stacked high with repelling stone walls and thick wooden towers. Alas, the entrance was not as comforting, a gate of meagre design, no trouble for even a sizeable bandit brigade to take on should they take their fancy at a move from their dirt lairs. Luckily we had a veteran force of battle-hardened Orc kind to keep them at bay; for once I held some form of appreciation for honouring their savagery.”

“It felt like days had passed before the sun finally disappeared under the horizon and for night to consume the air between us; foreshadowing a last glimpse of the good of day before many that came to experience something even beyond the evil of darkness.”

“Do I feel sorrow for those that came victim to what was to come? Yes. Despite their mockery? Their -poking fun- at a Dunmer fitting his stereotype, carrying around a book and quill in hand? Yes. No being, friend or foe, should have ever had to suffer what we helpless and oblivious people suffered.”

“It began with subtlety. Something so hidden, that you accept it, or even welcome it! Into your own home. We crossed a bridge to reach the Fort, the river that ran underneath travelled with us, standing opposite the Fort if you could see so far in the night. The weather was crisp, and the sky clear in the beginning, we should have known something was amiss when our vision was muffled by the sudden fog that blackened our view, turning the night into the dark.”

“Whether it crossed over the river, or raised from upon it, a daunting mist quickly suffocated the crispness of our skies and took hold of our Fort. I sat up in one of the guard towers; with two of the first shift lookouts, Ursa, and Gurn. They rattled their clad armour with each step they took, Ursa, she held a frighteningly large maul, and Gurn, a sword? I think that was what it was meant to be, yet it held far too many spikes around its blade for my liking.”

“I cannot pretend to act as if I knew better than anyone else at the Fort, I sat just as idle as the first stage of this horror began, as idle and ignorant as the rest. I’m unsure what had happened next, but I heard the commander, -Agony-; yes, the name of someone I’d have no trouble sharing occupancy with at all. However, I heard his groaning voice shouting to others in the main compound below me, a small rabble of six orcs gathered around him. His voice boomed across the area, I took note of course. This is when my annoyance at the disturbance, changed to intrigue.”

“Commander Agony started talking about something to do with the Redguard and Bosmer scouts from earlier, according to him, they should have returned from their perimeter patrols by now, however it had been over an hour since they were due to return. The majority were still calm at this point, at most they had run into some troubling renegades looking for a final day’s haul. With a final few blurted belches from the Commander, the small team of six set out from the Fort in a hasty fashion.”

“It must have been… Another hour? Perhaps more, perhaps less? Time started to become harder to keep a hold of, alas; the Commander continued to pace in the compound below, his impatient nature causing a small dose of paranoia as the orcs he had sent out had also failed to return. However, we now come to the second stage, as our Commanders impatience eventually came to a halt.”

“The orcs by the gate seemed to suddenly start moving about, all of them trying to peer out from their posts without leering too far into uncertainty. Then, I heard it, a feint cry finds its way through the muffling fog, the clashing of metal echoing in its background. As the cry drew closer, a figure began to take form around the border of the mist, growing as they approached. The Orcs by the gate drew their bows, and where I wish I had taken my chance to flee, I could only hold onto my growing intrigue.”

“It’d soon reveal to us that this figure was injured, their outline limping in a desperate attempt for the Fort as it became just as clear that they were one of the Orcs sent in the previous six. I found it hard to deduce their full appearance, but I could see their armour was damaged, pieces broken, others missing, and a liquid that covered their body, darkened by the lack of light I could only assume was blood.”

“The Orc so fearfully rushed as fast as they could towards the Fort; the others keeping their bows raised. All of them, including the Commander barking orders for him to stop, they were about to shoot but… This is where my intrigue, was changed for fear.”

“Out of the thicker lines of the fog ahead of us, another figure began to shape, far more rapid that the Orc that pressed through. This figure raced in sporadic movements, only revealing itself as it leaped from the unseen, colliding itself with the injured Orc. It knocked him over, setting himself onto his front, his head burying into the mudded ground. We all stopped in gasp as we saw the secondary figure come to light; the scouts that had originally disappeared, now revealed. It was one of the Bosmer, I could hardly believe it myself, what could she have done to scare such a natural warrior? It was only obvious that this was not what it really seemed. At least, not anymore.”

“The Commander believed this to be a plot against their Orc kind, that the Covenant had betrayed them and planned to use the Redguard and Bosmer sent with them to kill them off. I would have felt nervous myself about blame, but my interest was too fixated upon what was transpiring beyond the gate.”

“The downed Orc had managed to turn himself around in the struggle, his hand reaching for one of the Bosmers antlers. He’d make a tight grip around it and yank hard to his right, a few times before the sound of a loud and stomach ill noise cracked through the air. He managed to snap off one of the Bosmers antlers, which to no surprise was met with a fury filled retaliation.”

“The next noise I heard though, was not one a Bosmer would make, nor one I would ever have believed it could. It screamed in a horrible tone, managing to reach both a pitch high enough to pierce my ears, as well as deep enough to feel the vibrations of it against my heart. The Bosmer lunged with a heavy fist at the Orcs face, having no doubt it broke his jaw from the limp nature he presented thereafter.”

“She then proceeded to snatch the antler back in hand, pummelling it back down onto the Orcs face. First, came the crunch of his nose breaking under the heavy hand of the crazed attacker; then another reached out as she continued to hammer down on his face, while the rest of those in the Fort continued to watch ahead in disbelief.”

“The Orc would gargle and twitch as the fast movements of a continued beating from the Bosmer’s snapped antler obliterated his face. She’d then stop, looking towards the Fort, she would next carry on lifting the Orcs upper body up from the ground, the head still moving slightly as he switched in and out of consciousness. Despite its ruthless nature, she then placed the Orc out of his misery, with a hard-forward motion, she would shove the antler through his softened-up front portion of his head, exploding out of the back, before yanking it back through tearing away sizeable portions of his face and brain matter that stuck to the branches listed across the antler. The Orc fell back to the ground in his gory mess.”

“This was when the final stage presented itself to us. With the gruesome death of the Orc, the Commander ordered his men to fire at the Bosmer; a few of the arrows hit, digging themselves into her legs and torso. She did not stop and response was met with another demonic cry, shaking the treeline surrounding us; but it became clear this cry was not to intimidate, but to call out.”

“The Bosmer began moving her crippling body towards the Fort, arrows continued to fly at her, some managing to breach their target. As she drew closer, I could start to pick up on a few features out of place with her being; whilst it was unsurprising that this was no great ploy envisaged by the Covenant as Commander Agony so believed, I was left baffled by the markings shown about her. Her facial expression was crazed, like a rabid mongrel, but what was perhaps most out of place, were the blackened like veins showing through her skin. I could not see much more, none the less, my inquiries about the potential for this to be an unnatural force had been answered.”

“The Orcs had now started to realise much the same, at least that something less than usual was about this Bosmer. The Commander, still paranoid about this being an elaborate plot imagined up by the Covenant, did show some sensibility and call upon his mages. Two dressed in crimson like robes stormed up to the towers overlooking the gate. With another call, I could not quite make out, one unleashed a small volley of fire towards it. The Bosmer screamed again, alas, she was hurt but continued to proceed shoving her withering self towards the Orcs at the gate.”

“The second mage now present, he revealed a short burst of ice spikes at her, one larger segment impaling her through her chest and sticking her to the ground. No cry, nor scream this time; a black ooze found its way dribbling down the piercing end of the ice spike. We all watched in curiosity, had it worked? We wondered. The Bosmer then started to twitch in a fast succession of movement, her body, dissolving into a black and grey substance. None of us knew exactly how to comprehend what was happening. I had studied the works of Daedra in my time, but never seen them in practice, if this was even of Daedric design?”

“Eventually, the Bosmer melted away from her physical form and found its gooey remains soaked up by the moist ground. Silence fell across the Fort, more Orcs appeared to be present around the battlements, lining the walls, all staring at where this odd mishap had transpired. I… I was among them, I had not a single idea how to take in what I had just seen, I have read so many stories, myths and legends, but that’s all they have ever been to me and now it appears I am to add to this ensemble of supernatural events.”

“As I had mentioned brief before, the Bosmer’s cries were not solely of pain, no, I don’t believe a creature of such nature was capable of such feeling. No, this was a call, and it did not go unanswered. The fog had started to thicken, myself, Ursa and Gurn only able to see from our tower through the line of torches that managed to thin out the grip the mist had on our Fort. We all waited in anticipation, knowing that this was not over.”

“A beat from the ground, an earthquake? The beat continued, no, it was timed, organised and had rhythm. The beat grew louder, the belly of Oblivion’s drums beating a cold taunt towards us. As the drums grew louder, the sound of boot and mud became apparent. Marching, marching, marching. They came ahead from the river, another shadowed outline presented itself at the borders of the fog, not one, more. More and more appeared, no small skirmish, nor raid, not even a battalion; this was an army.”

“The Commander was long to snap out of his awed gazed, but suddenly trampling off from the gates overlook, he raised the alarm. Another Orc across the opposite side of the Fort sounded their battle horn, only to have it trumped by the returned horrifying base of one belonging to our oppressors. After, a deathly chant shook the hearts of those they came to face. I could not quite make out what they were saying, but as best as I could understand, it sounded like as follows:

‘Saetsaharr Dulfarr, Saetsaharr Dulfarr, Saetsaharr Dulfarr.’”

“Whatever make-believe dialect they’d have chosen to speak, I’d laugh now, but I cannot deny that it was still very daunting.”

“The Fort’s forces rallied, many wielding a bow and arrow that lined the walls and towers, some mages. While others raised their swords, axes and shields camping themselves towards the gate. The remainder, I can only imagine were still gathering themselves from their short slumber, trying to hurriedly find their gear in confused alarm.”

“Those treading beyond the mist now began coming through, marching in near perfect formation. I have never seen Commander Agony take being told he was wrong before; yet seeing that this army wielded the faces of his own kind, certainly put his Covenant conspiracy theory to rest. Orc’s marched against us, their armour and weapons near identical to our own.”

“They came to a halt halfway between the distance to the Fort and our visible line of sight into the mist. They stood quietly, too much for my own comfort, I tried to concentrate on the Orcs below, rushing about to their stations. Although, I missed the quiet, for next, the army suddenly moved, lines of them taking a step from their right as the loud sound of their clashing armour sounded for all of us to hear. The Commander ordered his troops to nock their arrows, a whooshing sound replying to them as bows raised and the ammunition was placed in.”

“A cry similar to the disintegrated Bosmer previous, but with far too many tones to be coming from but one subject. Through the dispersed lines, rapid crawlers shot forwards, a mix; but there was no doubt, or any surprise for that matter. The long-lost scouts from before nights fall appeared. Redguard and Bosmer alike, black veins plaguing them as the same with the lone Bosmer; charging their way manically towards the Fort.”

“A moments hesitation from the Commander allows them too close to the Fort, an Orc fires their arrow without the order, alas, it pushes the Commander out of his paused state. Already firing as following the first Orc, the Commander pointless gives his permission for them to carry on what they are doing.”

“The arrows fly, hitting the animalistic rabble numbering around thirty. Most are ineffective, some managing to disable their legs and prevent them from running any further, only to view them carrying on digging along the ground with what limbs allowed them.”

“The mages atop of their towers now assisted, throwing fire which caused some upset among the maddened thralls. Whilst the ice mage threw another ice spike, lucky enough to impale another and view its quick demise as opposed to everyone else’s attempts. Another mage see’s and follows suit, throwing an ice spike and watching as it provides such an effective result. It wouldn’t be too long before the rest catch on, changing up to using what ice related magicka they knew, while those less educated in such an area retreated to support and buff the currently fighting troops.”

“As the arrows help to slow their attackers, and mages finish them off, watching their bodies corrode away; I started to notice something more in the distance, bright lights glowing through the fogged night. I stare up at them as everyone else remains busy dealing with the matters below, only to have my realisation met with shock as one of the balls of light draws near and strikes hard against one of the watchtowers further along the wall. It’d tear and shred apart, lighting up in a raging inferno as the crackling of popping wood soothes the cries of charring meat.”

“As more spheres of the inferno strike against the dismantling walls and towers of the Fort, another horn would sound to deafen us as the formed Orcish foe standing so calmly ahead of us roar in their charge. They raise their shields as few that still clung onto the walls fired their arrows in a desperate attempt to defend. They’d be ineffective in their try, one being pierced straight through their snout, while the rest of the charging brigade split into segments of a well gathered tortoise formation, changing their charge into organised advances towards the gate.”

“A few of the rabid induced scouts still survived, reaching the walls of the Fort, they scampered up and onto the platforms overlooking. If you weren’t moulding into your melting metal chest-piece or helm, the crazed Redguards and Bosmer would make sure you suffered a fate of just as much pain; beating and scratching, stabbing and disembowelling their victims. The walls were a butcher’s fields.”

“What survived was ordered by Commander Agony to pull back from the wall and join the rest preparing for a full-frontal confrontation. Some still not even with all their armour on, some still in the barracks trying to find their weapons. What was formed was a rushed attempt at a shield wall, spears pointed in front. The Commander drew his claymore, Orc design yet held a unique two forked shape at the end of his overly compensating weapon.”

“Those that kept alive along the towers and walls not yet afflicted with the death and destruction that had come to the others, continued their arrow bombardment, however, the last of the mages made for a retreat into the main Keep prior to Agony’s orders. Ursa and Gurn remained with me; during the recent events, I came to quite value their company. A few others had joined us on the tower as well of course, more wielding the futile bow and arrow against our enemy.”

“A harsh crack came from the sealed gate ahead. The right flank of the positioned Orcs faced it, holding a stronger position as time grew by, leaving the left and centre to deal with the diseased scout skirmishes. Spears to their vital organs appeared to work with as much effectivity to cause death, but not as dramatic as the magic that rendered them to a more comfortable puddle.”

“The gate would crack a second time, louder and more damaging. Upon its third sound, wood would splinter towards the Orcs, ricocheting off their Orsinium crafted shields. The night would keep much hidden from sight; but the smell… I often wonder how something of such a vile scent could avoid our senses before. However, as the gate thrashed open, it overwhelmed the field, luckily failing to distil our battle-ready battalion. Torch and flame lit the shadows that charged through, an almighty clash of roars shook the Fort’s foundations as both sides prepared for attack.”

“I could barely see through the fog myself, only allowing view over what the fire light allowed me, but I will never forget the sounds I heard, the first smashing of metal, Orc vs Orc, shield vs shield. The battle cries continued as our defence attempted to push back at our shadow foe. The shield wall held, and spears pierced the frontlines of the aggressors, crashing through metal and body, meat and bone; snapping and crunching, breaking and impaling.”

“The left flank finished off the final remnants of the infected scouting party, hastily trudging over the defeated corpses to charge at hostile Orcs flooding through the gate. More victories presented themselves as a possibility. Was my fear too rash? Of course, I was in the presence of some of the most powerful natural born warriors in all of Tamriel. My worry was nothing more than that of my mind and anxiety.”

“The gates emptied, and our enemy halted their advances. I peered below, viewing one of the fallen by a created pit of fire. The light, it showed me their face, all was as the physical features of an Orc are, but its marking; it did not shock me to discover that it held the same mark as that of the crazed fodder they wasted on us. The rest of their comrades held the same infection, was there a controlling factor? Something yet to be seen?”

“An alert boasted from one of the still functioning watchtowers, I snapped my gaze over to them, to find a squad of Orcish archers relentlessly firing their arrows below the wall. Another roar climbed over the wall, fitting to that of something more of a beast in nature, and a beast answered to its voice.”

“The destructed gateway exploded into wooden shards as a large monstrosity rammed through. At the time I was unaware of its kind or origin; but I later learned this being to be not of the natural plain, but something spawned from Oblivion itself. A creation of Malacath, as it was said to be, a horrible taste in fashion if I must comment myself, an Ogrim it was called.”

“The beast roared again as it presented itself to the rest of the battalion, not hesitating much after as it picked up and launched a piece of boulder debris over to the archers that had laid on their fire to it before. The shield wall reformed, trying to surround the beast and pierce its hide with their long spears. Much was to failure, as one puncture only seemed to influence its rage as it swiped the rest from sight, launching itself into the defence.”

“The defence crippled, those whom took the harsh front of the attack were instantly killed; if not flown through the night, they were squashed under the fungal beasts’ weight. As the shield wall crumbled under the Ogrim’s might, I began to hear the unnerving beat of drums again, the fear filling horn shaking the charcoal structures as I witnessed our dark enemies’ final assault. Their Orc units charged the gate, quick to clash with our own; then, over the tops of the wasted stone walls, more of the manic creatures that had taken our scouts poured over. They rendered a mix of races, from child to mother, farmer to noble, prisoner to soldier; they flooded the compound, creating an unimaginable crimson conflict.”

“I watched from my tower, my Orc company viewing just as I, in awe and fear of this unusual enemy. Their more reformed units clashing swords with ours. They fought valiantly against them, where they would tear a chunk out of one of ours shoulder’s, we would cut the head off of one of theirs. The battle at the gate seemed quite well balanced as it was incredibly bloody; yet I got a sense of the Orcs feeling as if they were in their natural environment, chaos and battle. I could not say the same for the left flank…”

“The left flank took the full brunt of the rabid infected, those that had somehow still survived along the walls, were now gone with a great certainty. They charged the horde, throwing their spears and drawing their swords and axes as they began their dismemberment of the monsters. The overwhelming force was too much for them though. One on one, they were nothing, but they attacked each of our Orcish warriors in packs, no less than four leaping onto their backs, continually stabbing them with any sharp implements at their disposal, some even wielding the weapons of the fallen. I could call the overall battle bloody, but what I saw them do, would even make a Daedra’s stomach churn.”

“They tore into the armour, ate at any open flesh, and dug into whatever they could to relish in the most antagonising screams they could muster from their victims. One made a deep cut with their blade, digging their hand into the open wound until gripping their exposed bone, tearing it out from their popped muscles; another doing the same, but managing to cause a rippling effect throughout the entire body by crushing and tugging at their spinal cord until it gave way and followed out with a bitty hand.”

“My eyes could hardly take much more, they drifted over towards the Commander, he used his claymore as if it were nothing but a child playing with a sharp stick. He swung it around as it would cleave through multiple of his confrontations simultaneously; managing to spit one on the end of his forked blade. Eventually, I caught onto his objective; he had carved a path towards the dominating Ogrim. Seeing it decimate so many of his men, Agony thought it time to agonise. The Commander faced the Ogrim down, it roared as it sought a higher taste. The Ogrim charged, it could attain a fast and lethal speed, but it took some time to get there. The Commander was able to move out of its way, dodging the ram as it would come to trip in confusion of missing its target.”

“You hear stories of heroes that become capable of wonderous things, abilities beyond that of natural capability, showing off, or standing out in battle through fancy finishers. This was real battle, no time for antics.”

“Commander Agony took his opportunity to exploit the Ogrim’s disabled position. With it knocked over and soon to get back up, the Commander would bring his claymore down with a heavy blow to the Ogrims neck; black blood spurted across the Commander as a similarly coloured pool would reach his feet, the Ogrim decapitated.”

“I watched as the battle waged on, the main force had managed to maintain a balanced fight between them and the infected Orc-Kind, even more so as they rally under witnessing their Commander’s swift triumph against the Daedric beast. However, the left flank was not so luckily.”

“Taken by extreme numbers, what remained of their force pulled back to join the rest, bringing the majority of the diseased horde with them. Alas, we were also left undefended, the remainder of the untouched towers and walls had no ground force to keep them at bay. Our arrows only provoked the segment that came for us, all the mages had retreated to the main Keep, we had nothing.”

“I heard them below, contending with some of the Orcs that went to combat them, I was left with Ursa and Gurn whom had tried to bar the trapdoor leading to the top of the tower. It was not long before they were bashing against it, the wooden beam started to break under their force. Ursa and Gurn took position in front of me, their customised weapons gave me some comfort, certainly more than the book I could do nothing with but cling to. As the beam eventually broke, Ursa and Gurn were quick to mash and smash all that came up and out of it. It was like a sport for them, easy pickings as the dumb creatures knew no better than the prick of Gurn’s spiked sword, and the weight of Ursa’s maul.”

“I did not dare look from out of the tower, I clung onto the hope that I could still hear our force alive and fighting. Eventually, the horde stopped their interest in our tower, Ursa and Gurn remained on guard, I thought we were safe. I have never been more wrong.”

“A creak of a stair whispered just enough for my ears to attune. I couldn’t tell if Ursa or Gurn had heard it, their positions still battle formed in front of the hatch. To be honest, a stair creaking was the least of my worries tonight, but it should have been my most. I can’t exactly recall it all, but a black fuzzed mist somehow appeared, it came from the hatch and swarmed Gurn and Ursa. I watched as it lifted my defenders from up off their feet, their struggle was horrible to watch.”

“The black soot like substance that had taken them, for Gurn, I considered it a mercy, as it simply threw him from the tower, letting the fall be his end. However, Ursa was far less pleasant to witness. It entered down her mouth, I thought it was suffocating her, that was, until her chest exploded, followed by her back; a short scream echoed with an instant silence as it left a large and viewable hole through her torso, her pooling body falling into the open hatch and down the broken tower. I must admit, I felt the edge of guilt for them, to have to watch a burden such as myself.”

“I didn’t move, I had just seen two far stronger and more experienced warriors be tossed around as if the wind carrying the air. A further creak sounded from the hatch, I watched it intently, like nothing else mattered. I saw a hand slowly reach its way up, so elegant in its movements. As it came to light, I saw how pale it was, how dead and frail, nails uncared for, long and ugly, black under them. The hand revealed a figure, hooded with their cowl before coming to face me.”

“Like much of tonight, I found it hard to imagine, never mind describe to even myself. It had a face as pale and dead white as its hand, a scar that lead up either side of its cheek from the corner of its crusted mouth. It looked at me with white eyes, bloodshot around, but I had a feeling it was in need of a little blood. A vampire that was for sure, not a breed I recognised… Although, it would be my first time ever seeing one.”

“At the point of which I thought I was going to die, the figure turned its head from me and raised its hand to out of the tower and toward the battling compound. It was here I had noticed that the fighting had stopped. I did not dare oppose the being before me. Looking out, I saw the battalion, Commander Agony at its front, had we won? The Keep also unharmed, the mages came from within, along with a few more of the troops that had remained there.”

“’The master wants you to watch,’ it told me. The only thing I heard it say, for the next time I turned around, it was gone. I failed to believe I had been spared just yet. With nothing more that I could do, I sought to proceed with its guidance, I turned back around and looked to the surviving warriors, then over to out of the Fort, their forces had retreated again. At the time I was naïve enough to genuinely believe we had won, seeing their forces pulled back beyond the wall. I should have known by now that their retreats only mean it is about to get worse.”

“The fog thickened again, more than ever before. I had no idea how it expected me to watch when I could hardly see my own hand in front of me. Next, I heard the clouds thunder, their echo sending chills across my body… If only it had been thunder, no, the chilling sound was that of another voice, booming its presence to be known across the entirety of the battlefield.”

“Morck’satae!”

“Is what I heard, I’m not sure what it was supposed to mean, but I could tell it wasn’t anything positive on my part. The next thing I heard, were the distant and collected cries from across the entire Fort. It was quick but lasted far too long. I could only imagine the terrible fates of those around the compound, to those still unaware to what was happening inside the Keep.”

“As the last cry ended, the fog began to clear again. Completely it seemed this time. As I looked back once more at the return of a crisp Frost Fall’s night, back in the compound and across the Keep, I only saw bodies, drenched of their life forces. It was as if they were no longer Orcs, sucked dry of all but their greyed skin tight to bone. Sprawled helplessly across one another and across the Keep. This silence was in mourn.”

“My gaze could hardly tear away from all the death and decay, but it was caught by one that still stood. At the front of their defeated men, Commander Agony knelt, his claymore by his side, and a head covered in blood I suspect not to all be his own. Before him, a line of six shrouded figures, similar to whom had visited me just before, stood facing one another to create a path down the centre leading to Agony. A seventh then appeared from the gate, the exact same attire as the rest, coming toward the organic pathway, a soul gem floating in front of him.”

“I am no expert on gems myself, but it appeared empty, lifeless, its dead purple appearing black in the night, despite the clearer view. I watched as he approached down the centre until reaching the beaten warlord. The gem then suddenly shattered in front of him and Agony. What remained, a black like tendril, it moved like it was agitated, wriggling in its suspended stasis, pulling towards Agony.”

“The shrouded man then moved his hand, as the black creature would move towards the Commander, it tugged at him and alas, despite the Commanders tired resistance, the tendril latched onto his face. It forced itself down his throat, disappearing down his gullet. Agony then cried out in his name, shaking manically and fidgeting about the floor. He’d roll and hold his head, screaming out. I couldn’t see what was going on, and when I thought I’d just get a better look, he fell limp and silent. He was dead.”

“This was not the case. The others over him all then turned looking up to me as a fog would swipe past my vision, and to no surprise, the ominous *** had disappeared if you pardon my tongue.”

“I’m not sure how long I stayed in that tower, but I had no fancy to move until I saw something else do it for me. I looked down to see the Commander, he had sat up. It took him a while, but he got to his feet. Without thinking, partly out of the stupidity of my fear, I ran towards him. Still remembering what they did to him, I was at least smart enough to keep my distance. I called to him, and he turned, and he responded.”

“I began to run, past the corpses, past the dying ground and through the slippery mud. It was not the Commander, not anymore. I don’t know if he was chasing me or not, I never looked back to see, all I could think of was running, getting away from the whole ordeal. His face was marked, black veins covered him, whether he’d be as feral as the Bosmer, or more reformed as the Orc army, it might have been Agony, but it was not the Commander.”

“I never looked back on the Fort, hmph, in fact I never looked back on Rivenspire, or the Covenant lands. My choice to study the world of Tamriel went exactly as mother said, ‘it’ll chew you up and spit you out in some ghastly Bosmer homestead’. Well, it didn’t exactly chew -me- up, but it made sure to do that to a few others.”

“There is something out there, something still hidden to rest of the world, spoken in hush, and kept to the backend of bad rumours and stories. But these are the accounts of Valerius Daemonius, and I decree Tamriel its prey.”



- Recordings of ‘The Battle Of Olds Fell’s Fort’ -
- Writings of Valerius Daemonius Of Morrowind -

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