Long before the Atmoran descendents would come to know it as the "Night of Tears", we would know it as the "Night of Shame".
I stood with my brethren atop the cliffs overlooking this city, blossiming with life in an eternal winter. My heart would flush had this occured anywhere else. Anywhere but on this forbidden site. Prior to their arrival any Falmer who would enter this ravine would meet a swift sentence of death. Even standing there then, an apprehension filled me as it would a child doing a known wrong. We waited on this moonless night for the glows of fires to fade, and the city enter a gentle, final, sleep.
Our elders had attempted to move the Atmoran settlers, offered to assist in constructing an entirley new settlement. The Atmorans declined. The elders sought other measures,quietly they engaged the Rosmer, (Falmer subterfuge agents) to poison the livestock. The Atmorans went hungry. The Rosmer arranged and herded wild animals into the limits of Saarthal. The Atmorans fought them back. They sent, with their magic's, storm upon storm to wrack the city. The Atmorans hardened. Rosmer tactics failed to discourage the Atmorans, other measure's were sought.
They knew not what lays beneath the ground. What power, so seductive and tempting. A power that corrupts the spirit. A power which long before forced the Falmer to condemn this land from themselves, and issue the punishment of death to any that stray too close. The Eye of Magnus, is a power no Mer and certainly no Man should ever posses. And as time goes the Atmoran's would sure discover it, and use it. Here now upon these cliffs the danger can still be stemmed, before their numbers become to great, before they come to realize what they have settled upon. We must curse this land as it is cursed to us. Leave the haunting tales of city vanished as a deterrent to future settlements. Here-in lies the truth, we loved and respected these people, yet more so after the Rosmer's attempts. To my own great saddnness I can pick out from this mountain Herlald's cabin, an Atmoran I had befriended. His wife and two children shared the one room dwelling. To ensure this "Curse" none could survive, not Herlald, not his wife, not his children.
The signal came, a massive storm front of ice and hail pushing up from the sea. I charged from my position witnessing as walls of ice encompassed all the city's gates. We ran silent, no yells no cries. Only the howl of the cold wind which encompassed Saarthal in a chill which shivered even my spine. Stairs of ice formed onto the walls, as i bounded close, climbing them to the top. I peered through the whiteout of the storm, no alarms had rung no soldiers rushed to reinforce. To the sentinels it was just a sudden storm, thanks to Rosmer completely believable. I had visited this city, we all had, i knew where to go, secure their arms, prevent their fighting back. Those of us chosen for this task fell towards the storeroom.
As I ran against the harsh winds to my target i came upon an Atamoran, almost with-in arms length before I could see him. His eyes shouted the fear and puzzlement his voice could not find. My blade slid through his body with an ease that surprised even me, and i found myself near cradle his body as i lied it down silently. Several Falmer had reached the arms room before me and had already cast a spell of ice upon the weapons freezing them together. We prepared to siege the town main waiting for the second signal.
The winds died down, the storm dissappated. And with the second signal night turned to day, as a great light came to hover over the city to prevent any from hiding. It was with this the main population came to the awareness something was wrong.The once quiet town came to roaring life. Screams of war and slaughter filled the streets. I ran from house
to house watching the outside as the remainder of my team "cleared" the houses. From one such house before we could enter out came a man and women, holding a carving knife, and wood hatchet. The man drove his hatchet into my team First Xilar with a mortal blow. I swung my sword in a rabid defense deflecting the woman's assault, and slicing her throat in a single stroke. And there as the man struggled to remove his hatchet I thrust my blade through his heart. The Second ordered me to check the house as he would stand guard. I regained my self and entered the home, nothing on the first floor, I flew to the second. At a glance it was empty, until i heard the rattle of the cabinet.
I approached with my blade forward, expecting of an assault. My eyes scoured the cabinet searching for signs of someone inside. Nothing, but the sound proved real. Another shake of the doors, I saw it. With two hands I held my sword tight, placed the swords tip between the doors seam, and with a single movement I flicked open the cabinet door and thrust forward. Within i saw nothing but black, yet i felt the soft puncture of flesh. As I withdrew my sword the weight of my strikes target fell unto the floor. The dim burning fireplace lit his face, light blond hair resting upon the cherub face of an Atamoran child. He held in his arms tightly pressed against his chest a doll. My strike had pierced both. We began this night knowing none could escape, none could tell the truth, for peace to remain. Man, woman, and child would be slain, yet till that moment perhaps to me as many others the consequences upon our souls had yet been weighed.
That night continued till no life could be found remaining. And following the razing of Saarthal, the commander of our forces pursued a life amongst the northern glaciers in self exile. A mark of shame was left upon us, one we had not fully accepted before hand. Before the new moon many others left for the north as well. I feel i shall take the memory of that child and all the faceless others and take the walk as well.
Long before the Atmoran descendents would come to know it as the "Night of Tears", we would know it as the "Night of Shame".
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