Oh. That’s where the name came from.
Here are my 15 (yes 15) characters in their usual costumes. (Some change out during battle.) I’m loathe to delete characters once they are properly formed, and each of them have a background written up. Some of them have backstories that are connected to others, but some aren’t.
And of course, like real people, they change and develop over time. Not all of them do the Mages’ Guild quests, or the Fighter’s Guild. Only some of them will be doing the Psijic questline that is coming with Summerset. All of them have their own houses decorated according to their preferences and inclinations, but sometimes, some of them can go visit those that they know.
The addition of the Outfit system is great. It allowed me to customise them even more. You’ll also notice most of the colours are muted. I like it that way.
I wish Zenimax would add more hairstyles and personalities but it’s been great so far! (Did I say I love love love ESO?) These characters have been helping me with the Jubilee Festival too! (Yay Gift Boxes!)
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 carving is one of many found in Wrothgar. Who carved them? They look nothing like the monkeys we see in the wild, and surely the ogres do not have such sophistication that such dexterity requires. Could it be the Tang Mo left them long ago?
The two statues always seem to me that they are giving high-fives to one another. But that wasn’t what caught my eye this time. The purple-blue shades of the sky was so strangely incongruent with the sun shining down at me. I had to remind myself where I was – they didn’t call it Far Shores for nothing!
Every time I go to Stirk, and I’ve been there at least ten times, I almost always arrive at nearly but not always the same time – the magic hour just reaching its last tendrils over before the evening ends and night begins. The sun nears the horizon; night gathers above, bejeweled and waiting. I imagine that the sea breeze is balmy, and perhaps I can taste sorrow in the air – the Crimson Ship carried its burden hopeless into that endless Abecean Sea and were lost. Who mourns them?
I love cats, but sometimes, their informal conferences make me wonder what they are plotting.
I might have noticed this before but I cannot remember if I did. Walking down towards the wayshrine, I noticed these rocks in this formation. The closer image shows more clearly their countenances. Fascinating.