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 with a descended dolmen truly lives up to its name.
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.
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.
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.
The air sizzles in anticipation of the day ahead. The ice crackles, the bears roar. In the distance, thunder. I wash my face in the steady stream and wonder… What is that sound of heavy metal clanking behind me?
The sun burns slow in the Alik’r Desert. I feel the sand against my skin, drawing the moisture from my tired body. I must move before the night falls. The coyotes come.
“And the dead tree gives no shelter, the crickets no relief” ~ The Waste Land, T.S. Eliot
In a somewhat remote spot of Cyrodiil, a mage has arranged a family of skeletons around a campfire. He has made sure all of them have their heads and are suitably warm. I wonder what tales are being told.
Sometimes, while on the road, and if we’re not going too fast, we trundle past makeshift campsites. Frequently, they are abandoned, but sometimes you see what happened as the person lay asleep. Not able to do anything since they have been long dead, the only thing we can do is to remind ourselves to stand guard, always, lest we suffer the same fate.