Holy Cow, illustrations!

This is too good, please continue; and if you die, some one else takes over as Lorka. Like Night Owl, or Silk Specter.

No one can do it like Lorca can, it is like a star football player, his jersey would have to be retired.

Well, when this story has reached its conclusion and I return to the books in the turbulent year of 3E435 I would be more than happy to welcome other writers of books into the topic (or allow writers to mantle the intrepid champion, provided the writings aren't out of character).

Stay tuned for more developments in Orcrest!

From the desk of Gro-Bludgar.

14th Sun's Dusk.
From GM to OGB.

Friend in iron, Mane, King and Warrior. It has been too long. Despite your lies about my bondsmen, I still remember our service together fondly.

We seek the same thing, you and I, as we always have. In these troubled times the provinces must look to their own defence against base criminals, anarchic fools and petty bandits. I seek this in the seat of sundered kings, you seek it in the sands of the south. Rest assured that the Colovian League has no ambitions in regard to Elsweyr. In fact, we pray that the Orcrest Confederacy receives the blessing and strength of Father Talos. But I do not risk a courier's life merely to congratulate you on a city well seized.

I believe there is a situation where we can be of mutual assistance. Write back immediately, in utmost confidence, if you are interested in an unusual proposal.

~

16th Sun's Dusk.
From GM to OGB.

Excellent. I knew your appetite would be whetted by the mystery. Here is the situation. We both find ourselves at our limits. I cannot muster any more manpower, the Count of Skingrad stubbornly refuses to contribute to our Noble Experiment. I am also aware of your current situation. There is no shame in it, however, for paying the amount of mercenaries under your command would drain the coffers of Orgnum himself.

Here is the solution. In Skingrad lives a mage. A retired mage, to be precise. His house is littered with priceless artifacts, the vaults of the Bank of Cyrodiil lined with his untouched wealth. He will be the means by which we find the solution to our twin difficulties. Write back immediately if you are still interested.

~

18th Sun's Dusk.
From GM to OGB.

Not one to shy away from a challenge, are you? This is good. Here is what you must do. If you are not able to comply, burn this letter immediately. If you do agree, follow the instructions to increase the wealth of Orcrest.

The mage makes frequent excursions to Daedric realms, severing himself from all mundane contact. It is then we need to act. He has recently married, and dotes on his beloved day and night. He would pay untold riches if anyone were to steal her away. I also hear tell that he is in possession of Volendrung, the hammer that should be yours. Imagine, friend, the hammer of Malacath in the hands of a true son of Orsinium - what could bring you greater glory?

I have not the manpower to stage this operation. I enclose a stipend for the hiring of your Orcish mercenaries. Leave the details of the kidnap to me, but enclose your demands in your reply. In the wake of the operation, Count Hassildor will be forced to admit Skingrad to my League, and the mage will provide you with riches and glory for Orcrest.

~

23rd Sun's Dusk.
From GM to OGB.

The operation has been carried out successfully. I weep for my Imperial brothers lost in the attack, but it is for the greater glory of Colovia. I expect to hear from the mage soon; I will contact him as soon as he returns to Skingrad to pass on your demands. Health and fortune, old friend.

The font is hard to read, but the content is great!

6th Evening Star, 4E15, Ruins of Orcrest Palace.
No wonder the Prince of Plots was delighted. The conspiracy runs deep. I have paralysed Bludgar while I consider my next move.

6th Evening Star, 4E15, Ruins of Orcrest Palace.
Under magical interrogation Bludgar assures me that Nerussa is not here. My most powerful Life Detect spell picks up nothing, bar Bludgar and basemant rats. If the letters are correct, Bludgar was implicit in the conspiracy, the retribution on his people and city a fitting punishment. The Orc says that the only people who knew where Nerussa is hidden, the mercenaries mention in his letters, are already dead by my hand.

6th Evening Star, 4E15, Ruins of Orcrest Palace.
The Orc made me an intriguing offer. Having no reason to remain here, the plot he hatched with Mede an obvious failure, he wishes to travel to Cyrodiil and confront the scheming Imperial. Perhaps I can make use of him before I kill him. What concerns us both is that whilst the corrupted power of Orcrest now lies broken and burning, whilst the corrupt power of Sutch is now at full strength, with no comparable power left to confront it.

6th Evening Star, 4E15, road to Cyrodiil.
The enemy of my enemy is nothing more than that, but Bludgar is a formidable warrior. If I can use him to my advantage and hasten the return of my love and child I will. Having seen his 'elite' Palace Guard skewered and slain in seconds he has no means, nor inclination, to fight me. The ride to Cyrodiil will take a deal longer than the journey here, for I have bound the Orc in chains, a rope connecting his snorting warhorse with Heart of Darkness. We can go no faster than a canter.

8th Evening Star, deserts of Elsweyr.
Days in the desert with a stinking Orc. I think I would rather visit the Ashpits, or the Quagmire. We zigzag between watering holes and bandit camps, slowly making our way north. I'm having difficulty discerning who Bludgar hates more, the mer who destroyed his city or the man who caused him to be there in the first place.

9th Evening Star, approaching Riverhold.
The Khajiit of Riverhold are no friends of Orcrest, but neither did they wish its destruction. I am rendering our increasingly pathetic party of vengeance invisible as we cross the border.

11th Evening Star, approaching Skingrad.
At last, the deserts and thirst of Elsweyr are behind us. Curiously there was no border patrols to be found at all, the Legion post on the road abandoned.

11th Evening Star, Skingrad.
This place is a ghost town. Where are the guards? Where are the citizenry? The castle portcullis is down, all the doors are boarded up. Fortunately I can detect the citizenry through their barricades, but the town guard are nowhere to be found.

Awesome!

I love how this is coming along.

The Sword-Meeting of Lorcka of Summerset and Lord Gaius Mede

The High Elf had returned to Skingrad, having wreaked a terrible vengeance upon the pig-children of Orcrest. Finding Legion posts abandoned and cities without guards, the Altmer was puzzled at the state of Cyrodiil. The deposed king of the Orcs, Bludgar, solved the riddle and dictated the next step on the bloody journey.
"His alliance now includes Skingrad," the chained Orsimer spoke, plainly. "He wants more. I know why we find no Cyrodiil guards anywhere. Mede has marched and forced war upon this place."
The High Elf still could not disguise the contempt in his voice, but replied anyway, asking the Orc "How do you know?"
"It's what I would do in his situation. He has gathered his men and now is going to use them. Will we find him at the Imperial City."

The elf, having nothing else to act upon, agreed with the Orc and rode along the Gold Road apace. White Gold Tower stood proudly, as it always had. From a distance everything appeared tranquil. As the two approached, they found a grand violation of this unchanged tranquillity.

Soldiers, wearing all colours of Old Colovia, had gathered in Weye, turning the sleepy village into the headquarters of the largest force gathered in Cyrodiil since the dying years of the Third Era. Across the bridge, the pair witnessed the last and only defence of the city; a comparatively meagre force of Legionaries, Watchmen and desperate militia. A spiked wooden palisade surrounded the tents and waving banners of the Colovians. The two headed for a gap in the wall, fully expecting a bloodbath. To their surprise, the two were waved in, the sentry noting that his liege had been waiting for their arrival.

The two dismounted and headed towards the command tent. The guards parted their crossed spears, allowing entry. Gaius Mede, clad in light Mithril armour engraved with myriad Colovian heraldries, a steel shield attached firmly to his left arm and a silver sword at his waist, stood with his back to the cloth entrance, studying a map. In the corner, his son Titus played quietly with toy soldiers. On hearing their arrival the Imperial ceased his study and turned to face the High and Corrupted merfolk.

"I am surprised it took you so long," he began calmly. "I am also surprised to see the Orc alive. Orcrest is a smouldering ruin, though, so your presence here concerns me not."

At that the Orc grabbed an iron claymore from a nearby sword stand. Charging at the Imperial with the claymore held aloft, he let out a guttural roar. Mede sidestepped the charging Orc, unsheathing his sword in a fluid motion. The Orc's momentum ran him past he calm Imperial, who jabbed his sword backwards, the point aimed through the triangular gap in his arm. He found his target, piercing the spine of the King of Orcrest. With a spurt of blood, clear liquid and a tortured cry, the hulking warrior collapsed and fell silent.

Lorcka watched the display dispassionately, waiting for the Imperial to continue.
"Foolish Orc," spoke Mede. "We were blood-brothers, once, working for a mercenary company in Hammerfell. Better days, uncomplicated days. Let me first assure you that Nerussa is safe, as is you unborn child."
"Why did you drag me into this, drag my family into this?"
"I am sorry for your pain, truly I am. If anyone threatened Titus I would tear them limb from limb and thoroughly enjoy the experience. In fact, it was this feeling from which the plot was hatched."
"Where is she?"
"Close by. Where it all began, in fact. But before the family reunion, we have some unfinished business, wouldn't you say?"
"To say the least. Tell me why I shouldn't slay you where you stand."
"Three reasons, mage. Firstly, because my men have been ordered to attack immediately in the event of my death. You join me in the second day of the siege. I don't think Ocato will hold out for much longer. If I could, I'd like to take Cyrodiil with further bloodshed. Secondly, I don't think you are the kind of mer who would slay a man in front of his infant child. Thirdly, I don't think you are able to. Your arcane power means nothing to me, with this shield. I acquired it from the Arena's storage. It grants me a total resistance to magic. We are both masters of blade and block, rendering us complete equals."
"You have plotted well, Count. Hiring mercenaries so that I would detect an Orcish presence. Manipulating Bludgar and ensuring the ignorant Orc's fall at the my hands, destroying the only power that could stop you. Forcing the entry of Skingrad into your alliance. But it is here where your plans come astray."
"Don't you understand? I did it for Cyrodiil. You of all people should understand. I could not allow Orcrest to rise after Leyawiin. Cyrodiil needs firm leadership in these grim times. Ocato allows the Empire to collapse into chaos. I follow in the steps of the great Septims, bringing Imperial order to the coming anarchy."
"Worthy goals. But you should never have involved my family. Defend yourself!"

With that, the elf drew Shadowrend, holding it over his head and casting it down in a straight vertical slash. The Imperial raised his shield, the power of the blow and the magical enchantment dissipating on cold steel. The tiny Imperial abandoned his toy soldiers and clambered out of the tent. Seeing his father in combat was nothing new, but he still disliked the spectacle.
"Akaviri opening?" asked the Imperial.
"I was trained by the best," replied his opponent.
The Imperial responded, circling his blade in a uppercut motion, whilst his shield guarded his face. The elf dashed the sword to the right, the blades riding each other until both combatants broke off.
"The Hammerfell Offence?"
"Nicely countered, mage."

The Imperial did not let up his attack, lunging for the legs of the elf. Lorcka jumped back, burying the point of his sword in the dust, the blade acting as a shield. Pulling back, he elf readied himself to attack, the Imperial circling defensively, his silver blade held horizontally, preparing to thrust. The mer hit the point of the longsword toward the ground, breaking the Imperial's stance, deftly slashing his claymore up to slice the arm of the Imperial, ripping his Mithril gauntlets.
"Arm of Khajiiti? I can tell you've spent time in Elsweyr, mage."
"I find it best against the Shezarr Stance," the mage replied.

The Imperial attacked with a diagonal strike from his left shoulder. The mage danced to the left, crossing swords from below and pushing forward to break the lock. The Imperial redoubled his attack, blade again finding blade. The mer brought his claymore back, holding it vertically to his chest. Spinning to the right, he let the blade fall. The Imperial rolled in the dust, Shadowrend finding only the ground where Mede had stood. Mede followed with a rapid horizontal slash to the flank of the Altmer. Seeing the direction of the Imperial in drawing the sword back, Lorcka curved his body like an Alfiq, so that the silver longsword sliced through only the wizard's black cloak.

The mer again dashed a stab, deflecting the blade to the side. He hurled his shoulder towards the Imperial, knocking the Count on his feet. Holding his blade downward, the mer readied a killing blow. The Imperial quickly recovered, rolling to the side as the blade fell. Jumping to his feet, Mede circled with his left side facing the mer. The Imperial dashed forward with his shield, the wizard aiming the claymore at the Imperial's right eye. Seeing the threat, Mede was forced to turn his offensive to defence, drawing his shield up to meet the point of the mer's blade.

Throwing each other back, the elf began an attack, bringing his sword up from his left. The Imperial began a counter cut, clashing the blades again. The mer drew back and repeated his attack, lunging as the Imperial repeated his counter. The point found the Imperial's right leg, Mithril defusing the power of the strike, but the point of the blade finally drew blood. Acting on instinct, the Imperial pulled his shield close to his body, flinging it out to unstick his attacker.

The clashing continued, attack and counter, feign and retreat, dashes and parries. Both swordsmen began to weary, neither gaining the definitive advantage of the final strike, merely inflicting superficial cuts and slashes. The pattern repeated in the terrified gaze of the youngest Mede. Seeing the stalemate, the mage rendered himself invisible.

"Coward," cried the Imperial. "Show yourself and fight with honour!"
The Imperial drew into himself, keeping his shield close, relaxing his wrist and circling his blade in front of him, intermittently spinning on his heels to counter the mage should he reappear to his flank.

The mage faded back into view, although he was not the same mage who had disappeared. In the place of the black-robed, black-claymore wielding opponent was an Altmer clad in purple and gold patterns, his claymore replaced with a staff.
"What trickery is this? Try your arcane spells, see what happens. I shall cleave your trinket in two."
The mage activated the grotesque staff, a purple bolt firing forth from the eye at the head of the branch. Outside the tent, the soldiers of Colovia heard a booming voice, boldly declaring one word.

"Hold!".

Very good sword scenes, although I would have used some strategy and manipulation of the environment on the part of both fencers. But otherwise, much, much better than the simple slash block and thrust of the run of the mill TES swordfight!

Ha, I thought you'd like a nice swordfight, somehow.

Just to respond to your feedback quickly, I didn't include the scenery in the fight for two reasons, really. Firstly, perhaps a description fail on my part, it's taking place in a fairly spartan, dusty tent - an arena for single combat. Secondly, it's not really in character for either fighter; Mede doesn't need to use the environment and throw a table or knock something over, it's beneath his noble stature and he has a fine sword and shield to use. Lorcka is by this point at the end of a long journey from Elsweyr, clouded with rage. His swordsmanship is based on his instinctive learned mastery. He is focussed on his opponent, utterly.

I am loving this story !!

Awesome description of the dance. Loved it!

SPECIAL EDITION: SIEGE BROKEN!

Colovian Alliance forces dissipate following Gaius Mede's insanity!

In a stunning turnaround, the forces of the Colovian Alliance have broken their siege of the Imperial City. The Black Horse Courier has received scattered reports that the soldiers decided to return to their respective cities following the bizarre behaviour and strange orders of their commander, Count Gaius Mede.

The former Count of Sutch was heard ordering his men to place their greaves atop their heads and throw their helmets into Lake Rumare for the glory of Zeht, an obscure Redguard farming deity. When questioned by his men, Mede ordered them pelted to death with diamonds, then ordered his men to charge on the defences of the Imperial City armed with feather dusters, "...so that we may tickle the Nibenese to death."

High Chancellor Ocato has ordered three days of thanks to the Divines, as many feared a bloody clash in the streets of the Capital, a painful callback to the events of 3E434. With the forces of the Alliance now leaderless, the first much-needed food shipments have begun to arrive in the waterfront following the abandoning of the Colovian blockade. The citizens of the Imperial City, forced to eat the mosses and mushrooms growing on the white stone, have many reasons to be thankful, for many defenders of the starving city had spoken of the need for submission in order to survive.

The former commander of the Colovian forces has been placed under the care of monks at an undisclosed priory. His infant son Titus has begun a regency reign in Sutch, under the care of Colovian nobles.

Teehee "...so that we may tickle the Nibenese to death." very nice.

That is an obscure lore, I hadn't found it yet in my research - but your research into the lore has always amazed me and should be an inspiration to anyone reading - another great chapter!

He's from Varieties of Faith;
Zeht (God of Farms): Yokudan god of agriculture. Renounced his father after the world was created, which is why Tall Papa makes it so hard to grow food.

Oh I knew it had to be Lore because it was on your page, I have learned more lore in your writing than on the WIKI!

looks like amazing work my firend.... i need to go through and fully read over the materials i skimed... hehe the sutch stuff u wrote defintly grabs my atention... and the black marsh stuff

biulding

Thanks fellas. I always have TIL (the ff-er best friend) and UESP (good for quick clarifications) open to check lore matters, as far as I'm aware nothing I write contradicts established lore, if it does I would be much obliged to those who would correct me. Anyways!

Epilogue

FORMER MANE OF ELSWEYR FOUND DESTITUTE!

Last King of Orcrest discovered crippled and living in poverty in the Waterfront!

In a staggering fall from grace sure to go down in the histories along with with the tragic tales of early Cyrodiil, the warlord Ogar gro-Bludgar, once master of the tribes of northern Elsweyr and the bane of Corinthe, is now eking out an existence as a common beggar on the Waterfront, having lost the use of his legs.

The warlord rose to power in the wake of the assassination of Corinthe Mane Ri'Rakha, leaving a power vacuum in the land of the Khajiiti. Under gro-Bludgar's reign Orcrest transformed, from a mercenary outpost of little consequence to a power whose influence stretched far beyond the red hot deserts. The mysterious destruction of Orcrest came as a simultaneous shock and relief to many, the fate of its warlord unknown.

Gro-Bludgar refused an interview, instead asking for a coin and muttering about 'the fires'. His downfall from prince to pauper serves as a stark warning of the dangers of hubris and a life of violence.

Love the humor you wedged into that Courier!

Third Vintner Begins Trading in Skingrad!

Skingrad has welcomed a third vineyard, solidifying its reputation as the wine capital of Tamriel. Nerussa Vineyards promises to be a unique experience for the wine lovers of Cyrodiil. In the wake of recent trouble, demand for quality wines has rapidly outstripped supply.

Nerussa, who has recently become a mother, spoke to the Black Horse Courier what makes her wines unique, in the face of tough competition.
"I was inspired by the rarest batch of wines in Cyrodiil, not counting the 399 vintage," she explained. "The Shadowbanish batch was bottled by a vintner who was also an alchemist. I have the good fortune to be married to a master alchemist, as well as having some skill myself. Whilst the wine is fermenting we imbue it with unique magical properties, refreshing and revitalising the drinker. My husband would say that it's truly more of a potion than a wine, but graqes are graqes."

The basemant of Rosethorn Hall has been converted into presses and barrelling facilities. Her famed husband was unavailable for comment.

~Fin~

No, not Fin! Argh!