Letters From Tamriel

An epistolary gaming blog

Archive for the tag “Molag Bal”

Nyx, to her sister

Screenshot_20160327_160937 - face only@Zells note: Major spoilers for main quest after the cut.


I have not wanted to write because I don’t like the news I have to share.  When I wrote home last, I was helping King Fahara’jad deal with the rising dead in Alik’r.  I did not mention my concern about who was causing the problem, but now I have to.

The local necromancer cult in Alik’r call themselves the Withered Hand, and they are ambitious.  Worse, however – they have been emboldened by Imperial authority.  The leader who moved in and stirred them to aggressive expansion was no less than Septima Tharn, Magus-General of the Seventh Legion, acting under the direct orders of Regent Clivia Tharn.   I cannot express the disgust, anger, and betrayal I felt when I learned who was behind the sudden increase of necromancy in Alik’r.  I did not want to say it until I knew it was true, but now I’m sure, and you and Papa must know how deep the corruption runs.  No one can be trusted, and the Regency is compromised – the throne cannot stay in her hands; she is actively working to give Mundus over to Molag Bal.

There is a lot I haven’t told you, actually, and I’m sorry for that.  When you’ve asked I have said letters are not a safe way to tell the story, but the truth is (again) that I was avoiding what needed to be said.  And in any case, the secrets that did need to be kept are now known by my enemies, so there is no longer a point to keeping you and Papa in the dark about what I have been doing. Read more…

Nyx, to her sister

Nyx in Stros M'KaiSissa,

I would say the trip was uneventful, that I arrived safely and whole, but I’d be lying.  I won’t go into details now, but you, Mother, and Pappa must be on lookout for agents of Molag Bal.  I defied him by refusing death and enslavement, and in doing so, I made an enemy.

And so has he.

I am well, for now, don’t worry, and don’t join up with the first caravan headed this way.  Mother needs you.  Just stick together, and watch for cultists.

My trip took a detour, but I did finally make it to Stros M’Kai.  It took longer to establish a network than I expected – the war is heating up and everyone is distracted, to put it mildly.  But I got connections made, and can move any merchandise you send my way, if needed.  I also (finally!) have contracted craftsmen for my equipment.  The Altmer making my armor is a snobby, racist ass, but I can’t fault her work, at least.  You’d love the blacksmith I found – I think she said three words the entire meeting, but these blades can split a hair.

Stros M’Kai feels so much like home in so many ways: the sand, the plants, the clumsy dockhands trying to pick my pockets… I love it here.  I’ll head over to Glenumbra soon, but this was a nice layover while I sorted out the supply chain and caught my breath from the trip and its trials.

The first job I was hired to do involved breaking a thief out of jail.  I was unsympathetic, and I can already see the look on your face, because yes – he was the one dumb enough to get caught, right?  But I owed the woman who hired me, and she needed the jailbird’s help.  So I worked my down to the bottom of a petty warlord’s trap-filled dungeon, popped the guy’s cell door, got a heartfelt thanks, and then the bastard teleported himself out and left me to fight my way back out alone.  Way to have my back, Guy Whose Life I Just Saved.  Classy.

This “note” got long, so I’ll let you go.  More information as I have it, and I promise I’ll share details of the Molag Bal issue later.

All my love,

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