Thorn's Lament Written by Sorren It's been almost a year now, since we entered these twisted caverns below Red Mountain. I cannot give you the entrace location, as it no longer exists. Perhaps it was the Daedras' doing, or perhaps just a shift in the mountain itself, but whatever the reason, the entrace caved in some time after our arrival. As we progressed through the caves, we found Telvanni roots and vines everywhere, curled around ancient Daedric ruins. It would seem the Telvanni sent an expedition out here long ago... further on, the dead bodies and skeletons leave more evidence. We traveled through several caverns and tunnels, but nowhere did we find survivors. In one of the later cavern areas, we came upon a Daedric mezzanine, half crumbled and tangled by Telvanni roots. It was there that we first began to see why all the Telvanni were dead. A lone Dremora stalked the mezzanine's shadows, longsword in hand. Before he could react, Rhuthu cast paralysis on him. Unable to shout a warning or even move, Bryar and I dispatched the dremora quickly. In the shadows ahead, however, we could see more Daedra lurking. Daedroth, Hungers, Winged Twilights... all manner of Oblivion's servants. We crept to the edge of the mezzanine and wondered how we could continue on. On the other side of the mezzanine was a large magma lake. It filled the bottom of the cave, but on its opposite side, we could see a large door. A narrow rock pathway wound up to its entrance. It seemed our only choice was to continue through the caves, and the Daedra, and eventually we could reach that door. If we survived. Bryar had another idea, however. He pointed to a fallen pillar, half-submerged in the lava. "Perhaps we can use that to cross," he suggested. I nodded carefully. Lava is a nasty death, but it seemed less risky than hacking our way through hordes of Daedra with old weapons and no armor. We were explorers and adventurers, not trained warriors. Carefully, I slid down the embankment and onto the fallen pillar. The rocks clattering behind me drew the attention of the Daedra. It was a scamp that noticed us first, as Rhuthu fell into step behind me. It screeched a warning, and the result was like some bad nightmare. Daedra rushed out in scores to attack us. Forgetting the narrow ledge I was on, I ran. The pillar ended several feet from the opposite shore. I had no choice but to jump- and jump I did. Gathering what courage I had left, I hurled myself at the embankment and clung to the rocks for dear life. Beside me, Rhuthu, then Bryar landed as well. We crawled rapidly up the rocks, feeling the heat of the lava at our backs. We barely made it to the door- as it sealed, the floor shook. An Ogrim Titan had thrown his full weight against the ancient construction... And it held. As we looked around this temporary refuge, we discovered the "heart" of Thorn's Lament. A huge cavern, stretching thousands of feet above our heads, it had two Daedric citadels inside. Both were overrun by Telvanni vines and housepods. For the next week, we pieced together the history of Thorn's Lament before us. Originally, the Telvanni had no trouble with Daedra in these caves, despite the ruins that so clearly marked their presence here. Then, as their roots began to take hold in the citadels of the main cavern, Oblivion's servants appeared. Scamps, Daedroth, Dremora, Golden Saints, Atronachs... it is known that particular types of Daedra serve different masters, but these seemed to have no alliance. They came with one purpose- to destroy the Telvanni. And they succeeded utterly. There were some meager supplies left in the housepods, and we used them as sparingly as possible. But by the end of the week, we were out of food, water, and the heat of Thorn's Lament was beginning to take its toll. At last, Rhuthu said he would attempt to teleport out and get help. As a former Guild Guide of the Mages Guild, this was not difficult for him- his was a moral conflict, leaving us in such trouble while he fled. Rhuthu is my youngest brother, but certainly no coward. After his departure, Bryar and I discovered a tattered note by one of the Citadel doors. It was then that the whole story came into focus. The Telvanni had discovered something in these caves, something meant to be sealed, buried, and hidden. Fearing that this thing would be set free by the wizards, the Daedra abandoned their differences, and in some cases their masters, and came here to stop the Telvanni. Whatever it was, it had been contained in the catacombs beneath the North Tower citadel. Wishing an end to the fighting, I went to the door and shouted to the Daedra on the other side. I told them that we knew of their intentions, and that we would not free their monster. After a moment, a gruff voice agreed to a momentary truce while we talked. I opened the door. A Dremora Lord stood before me, his body engulfed with the mystic flames of a fire shield. He raised his sword, resting its tip on the top of my head. "Do you swear that you will never open the Catacombs, nor free J'kaghsa from the prison we have given him? Do you swear upon your dying breath that you will ward these caverns against his coming?" What choice did I have? I swore, and Bryar followed suit. So... this mystery evil had a name. J'kaghsa. The rest of the story is far less eventful. Rhuthu returned, cursing every mage in his Guild, but he promised to visit frequently with as many supplies as he could carry. The Dremora Lord and I talk occasionally- at one point, he presented to me the plans for a suit of armor that we might use should J'kaghsa ever free himself. And in the year since, one other has chosen to stay with us- an Argonian lady named Hlizzatha. She is something akin to a sister here, and takes care of Bryar and myself when we forget to care for ourselves. Rhuthu lives in Pelagiad now, but visits frequently. Since he did not take the Dremora's oath, he is not bound to stay in the Lament- and Bryar and I have not told him about J'kaghsa's existance. And when we do not watch for this ancient vampire, we craft the armor the Dremora bestowed upon us. Thorn Armor. For we are the Wardens of Thorn's Lament.