Dalengra’s mortal skin numbed in the harsh winds of Skyrim. Eighty-seven years passed; he grew fonder of the culture, and less tolerant of the people. He would not have returned were it not for a whisper. “Redwater Skooma...
In dusty catacombs, beneath cold earth and blackened stone, a torchlight brings order to the long, deep dark. Breathing air made fetid by the wasted guardians lurking in the gloom, a tall figure in black follows the scuttling of spiders into...
"I wish it to be remembered that I was the last man of my tribe to surrender my rifle." ~Sitting Bull
His name is whispered in fear amongst travelers, particularly those crossing through the plains of Whiterun where he makes his...
They say that a watchful spirit resides in the mighty forests of Falkreath Hold... a warrior said to speak the language of the wind, and of the trees... legend has it that she glides through the woods with all the grace of a Summer breeze... the Sp...