Adventures in Tamriel

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ESO: Orsinium – History Carved in Stone

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ESO: Morrowind – All is silent

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The atmosphere is fantastic, and the colours – light against metal – are indescribable. This reminds me of the Isle of the Dead by Arnold Bocklin. I’m not exactly sure why. Maybe I was reminded of Giger’s version, and of this quote by Stephen King in the Wastelands.

“All is silent in the halls of the dead. All is forgotten in the stone halls of the dead, Behold the stairways which stand in darkness; behold the rooms of ruin. These are the halls of the dead where the spiders spin and the great circuits fall quiet, one by one.”

Except here, the spiders spin other things.

 

 


Stormhaven

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Stormhaven with a descended dolmen truly lives up to its name.

 


Spellscar!

screenshot_20170129_003020Mireukura-Rin went exploring Spellscar. It sure is pretty! Biter thinks so too!

 


Malacath O Malacath

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I was torn. I didn’t know what to do. He was willing; that didn’t make it feel any better. Still, I had a bigger issue to think of.

 


Revising Tu’whacca’s Throne

Traversing Alik’r’s Dunes to revisit an ancient temple – Tu’whacca’s Throne. The winds are electrified by the nearby dolmen; the land calls to me. Soon, soon; my duty calls first.

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Graystone Quarry Depths, Wrothgar

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Nestled in the depths of Graystone Quarry in Wrothgar is this Dwemer treasure, a sentinel of sorts that keeps the machines working to protect the ruins long after their masters are dead. Telenger and his bright ideas.


A moment’s peace in the Valley of the Blades

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The smoke carries the smell of burnt flesh and steel. The cries turned to screams and then to silence, the only sounds the crackling of bones and tentative footsteps on broken ground.


Storytime details

Sometimes when you look around, when you stop to take in your surroundings, you see details that have been left there by the powers that be. Some are huge, and some are so surprising you can’t help but break into a smile. 

I was at Argent Mine, yesterday, and a few lifetimes ago. This wasn’t the first time I noticed them, hanging in their eternal loft. Whatever it was that killed them, they seemed to die happy, or in horror. I’ll never know. 


Dreary Glenumbra on a Frostfall evening

Near Daggerfall, Glenumbra sings of the sun, the dewy grass invigorating in its welcoming scent. Further north, however, near the old town of Aldcroft, a different scene emerges – dead trees tired of life, and air so thick with burdened anticipation you can see it with your eyes. A lone light shines in the dark, marking a path to safety.