» Sat Feb 19, 2011 6:19 am Old Fort
As I journey south along the Niben, a majestic structure emerges from the thick foliage. Concealed under ages’ worth of moss, dirt and blood, guarded jealously by the jungle to which it was entrusted after men abandoned it – a fort, a bastion from times long past.
Its previous commanders are long dead, their names gone from the annals of history; however their charge stands before me. Perhaps not as grand as it once was, maybe there are holes in its ancient walls, but still it stands. Once a guardian of men, now it guards the memory of its masters and builders – by its presence alone we can remember that once, there was an empire that built this fortress.
I slide off my horse and begin climbing the steep hill upon which the fort sits, entangling myself in the thick foliage of the Nibenese jungle. Perhaps once this hill had been cleared of foliage by dozens of hands just to ensure that no one, friend or foe, might come to the fort’s gates unseen; or maybe the whole hill was mounded here just for the purpose of building another bastion to safeguard Cyrodiil, just so the men stationed here could see further. By now, it does not matter, for the Nibenay had long since claimed it from men of Cyrod.
As I climb further, tripping and stumbling many times, I can see fragments of the fort scattered about. I stop before the capital of a pillar, separated from the rest of its body in ages long past. Who could tell when and what exactly split it from the pillar? Was it an enemy who had breached the fort’s defences and wished to carry this specimen of Nibenese architecture and craftsmanship home, only to be felled at the gates of this very fort? Or was it the heavy hand of time and the elements, stone torn asunder by storms and droughts?
My hand brushes aside some of the dust and grime covering the elaborate carvings, however I struggle longer with the overgrowth, fingers of the land trying to reclaim the man-changed stone and hide it from our sight. Though time has left its mark on the capital, I can still make out typical old Nibenese designs. Two dragons standing back to back with elaborately arching wings, spewing flame and smoke from their jaws...
I stand up, leaving the capital and continuing my climb up the hill. As I get closer and closer to the fort, more pieces come into view, some almost completely obscured by the thick foliage, others not yet concealed by nature. Finally, my foot falls upon a firm surface – old stone stairs carved to make accessing the fort easier. Even now, with the bastion in misuse and ruin, they serve their purpose faithfully.
The stairs lead me to the entrance of the fort. Half of the wall on the left side of the gate has crumbled and the iron gate itself is stuck in place, rust and time defeating the reliable mechanisms of the ancient Nibenese; luckily for me, though, a part of the iron construct had been budget and broken along one side, making a gap just wide enough for a man to pass through.
As I approach the gap, I notice the inevitable dragon motif on the gate; this time only one dragon, his back arched just as the gate’s top was, the creature’s tail curled around one side of the entrance and its head resting on the other. The dragon’s eye sockets were deep and empty, maybe once filled with precious gems of some sort or a magical light to show the way. Despite, or perhaps because of the emptiness, I can not shake the feeling that the carved beast is watching me as I squeeze through the gap in the gate.
It is difficult to see where the courtyard of the fort ends and the walls and keep begin, for though the exterior had stood up well to the test of time, many of the buildings within the fort’s walls had crumbled, felled by mortals and time. I can, however, make out a crumbled doorway before me. The heavy wooden doors, fortified with iron, are swung ajar and stuck in place much like the fort’s gates, one of their hinges broken; beyond, the room that used to be separated by this door can be seen to have almost completely crumbled, one of the walls having collapsed entirely and revealing the jungle scenery that lay beyond the confines of this bastion of Reman’s times.
Undeterred, I make my way to the doors; as I suspected, they would not move no matter what force was applied to them, but that matters little, for my way is already open and even if the door had been blocking my path, I could’ve easily stepped around it – the doorway into it which had fit long ago was no more, its shape only partially possible to make out.
The remnants of the room into which I step are less overgrown than the outside of the fort in spite of the walls’ state. Iron torch holders shaped like open-mouthed serpents line the walls at set intervals, quite masterful examples of Nibenese iron crafting. Little remains that could help identify the purpose of this room, however it is possible to make out remains of weapon racks, rotten-shafted spears and arrowtips being all that remains of the garrison’s armament. However, my attention is fixed on something else.
Opposite of the door through which I entered stands a ruined statue. Though it is missing its head, part of the chest and right arm, it is obvious that this was once the statue of a man of a quite impressive stature. Time had left its mark here as well, obscuring the finer features of what was left of the figure’s armour with moss, yet I can still see that the man has something wrapped around his remaining arm; closer inspection reveals that is a snake which he is holding by the head, preventing it from biting into the exposed flesh of his hand.
Leaning down to inspect the legs of the statue, around one of which was wrapped a serpentine tail – knowing the Nibenese, most likely that of a dragon – I notice an inscription carved into the pedestal upon which the statue stands. Though it takes some effort to rid the words of the moss and dirt that cover them, eventually I am able to make out what is written:
May Reman’s peace be eternal and his heirs’ reign unending
As I read this inscription, a shiver goes up my spine. I realise clearly – much more so than ever before – that nothing is forever, that even the mightiest empires fall and one day, the Septim Empire’s turn shall come.
