Fort Grimwatch is more of an ex-fort. The ancient Imperial masonry is crumbling, and its gates hang ajar at a such an angle that they’re not going to be stopping anything that wants to go inside and risk structural collapse even if enough of the walls remained intact that people couldn’t just walk around it anyway. We’re met at the gates by a Bosmer by the name of Englor.

“Reinforcements?” Englor says. “I hope you’re just the forward scouts, but we’re desperate here and I’m sure the five of you can make a difference.”

“You have no idea,” Eran murmurs.

“Lord Gharesh-ri sent us,” I say. “What’s the situation?”

The fort (such as it is) has been attacked by some sort of dark spirits called “Dro Mathra” or something.

“Wait, how do you spell that?” I ask.

Englor carefully spells “Dro-m’Athra” for me.

“What the fuck is up with that word?” I mutter. “Is a gratuitous hyphen and apostrophe really necessary?”

“Don’t ask me,” Englor says. “I hope you can help, though. We were already having enough trouble with the Colovian invaders before the Mane showed up and did something that unleashed dark spirits upon us.”

We head inside. This is more like a war camp squatting amid the ruins, taking whatever tactical advantage it can from any stones that are still stacked on top of one another. Some Bosmer tree-buildings have been grown within the walls, and Englor leads us up to one of them. Gelur tosses quick healing spells at wounded Dominion soldiers we pass along the way.

At the top of the tree, we meet Shazah. Englor describes her as one of the “Lunar Champions”, whatever that means. Shazah describes what happened here, with the mane getting dark and weird and talking in an echoey voice or something, and he split the ground, bringing forth dark spirits that she describes as the children of “Lorkhaj”.

“Lorkhaj?” I repeat. “That’s what the Khajiit call Lorkhan, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Shazah says. “Though we can go into detail on the spiritual aspects once the immediate situation is resolved. Now that you’re here, Shazah believes we can push forward. We need to seal the wells of corruption that have sprung up and find my sister.”

We head back down and with Shazah in tow, approach the part of the fort occupied by the dark spirits. They resemble Khajiit, but they’re covered in glowing blue patterns and surrounded by a dark aura. They snarl at us in a language I don’t understand.

“What are they saying?” I ask. “Is that Ta’agra?”

“If it is, it’s some ancient dialect Ilara-daro does not speak,” Ilara says.

“Hey, if you things can talk, maybe you can knock this shit off?” I say, and then repeat equivalents of “knock this shit off” in every language I speak.

“How many languages do you know?” Eran wonders.

“That depends on your definition of ‘know’,” I say. “I can curse fluently at any ancient Nords we run across but I wouldn’t be having discussions on metaphysics even if they were so inclined. I might curse fluently at Shalidor if he tries to draw me into a discussion on metaphysics.”

The corruption wells are columns of shadows and blue swirls, and Shazah does her thing to seal them while we protect her from the spirits. When we reach the central tree with cat statues inside of it, I realize that it looks like this is a Bosmer village built on an Imperial fort that was itself built on an ancient Khajiit temple. Once Shazah seals the well inside of it, a Khajiit ghost appears. The normal sort of ghost that’s transparent blue and hovers a foot above the ground because standing on the ground is for losers.

“The First Mane!” Shazah exclaims, and then patiently spells the name at my prompting as “Rid-Thar-ri’Datta”.

“You needed two hyphens and an apostrophe?” I exclaim.

“Neri, show some respect!” Shazah admonishes me. “This is the First Mane!”

“Alright, then I’m calling him the First Mane from now on and not trying to spell that,” I say. “Because otherwise I’d start saying ‘Riddy’ which would be even more disrespectful except well in keeping with how I’ve referred to other important figures.”

The First Mane gives a soft chuckle. “This one does not blame an Orc for finding Khajiit names difficult, particularly not when you have come to help.”

“And Elf names,” I add. “And Orc names. And let’s not even talk about Dwemer names…”

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

The First Mane tells us some stuff about going into a temple, passing through some flames, and destroying the source of the corruption, which I’m going to assume will require hitting quite a lot more of these dark spirits along the way. Shazah remains behind to help the soldiers who are suddenly no longer having to fight dark spirits since I killed quite a lot of them, and they probably need healing. She sends us to meet up with her sister who had been cut off when a barrier of dark fire went up. I don’t imagine most people are quite as eager to poke weird fire barriers as I am, and it’s just as well we’ve got a blessing that will presumably let us pass through it.

We head down into a crack in the ground leading into what was once the cellar of the Imperial fort, where the Imperials had laid their foundations above the temple. They laid their walls directly on top of the original Khajiit walls. I wonder how many Imperials that once occupied this fort back in the days of Reman or Alessia or whenever the hell this place was built realized they were walking over… this. I wonder how many of them would have decided they’d rather not be here if they’d known they were sleeping on top of dead Khajiit.

A barrier of blue-black flames blocks the door, but fizzles out when I touch it, allowing me and my friends to pass through. Inside, dead dark spirits strew the floor amid tired and injured Dominion soldiers. Shazah’s sister Khali is standing in front of another flame-blocked door. While Shazah seemed gentle and contemplative, Khali is direct and eager.

After breaking through the next barrier, we head inside into a large room where some pieces of architecture have decided that gravity is merely a suggestion. I hate it when that happens. There’s another barrier here, this one stronger than the others. We need to get around through a side passage to disable it. That’s fine. I just take a relaxing jaunt through wiping out any dark spirits in our path and let Khali and my friends worry about the parts that involve poking statues and getting doors open.

Here I am, just going through hitting things and leaving it to the others to disable crystals and things, and once all that is done, the Khajiit sisters (Lunar Champions, I suppose) tell me that they think I’m “Moon Hallowed” or whatever. Blessed by the ancient Manes to guide them in dark times or something. Great, whatever. If this is some sort of prophecy, at least it doesn’t seem to be about anyone specific. I just happened to be the one who came along. That’s what I’m hoping, anyway. Fuck prophecies.

“Head to the Moonlit Clearing north of the Ayleid ruin of Senalana and the priests there will be able to tell you if you’re the Moon Hallowed!” Shazah says.

“Right…” I say, trying my best not to sound dubious about the whole prospect. “Is that in the direction the Mane took from here?”

“This one believes he went in that general direction, yes,” Khali says.

“Dark Moons, Shazah does not like to think of what other chaos might arise.”

“Do I have to be this ‘Moon Hallowed’?” I ask. “Can someone else not be the chosen one for a change? Ilara-daro, do you wanna be the Moon Hallowed?”

Ilara chuckles softly and her whiskers twitch in amusement. “While this one would be honored, she does not believe it is your choice.”

I groan. “There’s always choices. Bad ones, mostly, but there’s nothing that would stop me from just walking away if I don’t like how something is going if I’m willing to accept the consequences of doing so. And I’m a huge fan of turning around the inevitable.”

“It is likely that one of you is the Moon Hallowed,” Shazah allows. “Rid-Thar did appear and give his blessing. Even if you immediately complained about how much punctuation was in his name.”

“It’s fine,” I say. “I’m just whinging. I haven’t even gotten used to the last title someone insisted I should have.”

“Which was that?” Shazah wonders.

“King of the Wood Orcs,” I say.

“Khali did not realize the Wood Orcs had a king,” Khali says.

“They didn’t,” I say. “The chiefs insisted. And the Wood Orcs are joining the Dominion now. The Mane was supposed to be there for the diplomatic thing. I came out here to investigate what was going on with the Mane, and probably hit things repeatedly. No one is going to be surprised by me hitting things, least of all me. And I’ll hit whatever I need to in order to fix the latest crisis.”

“Shazah is glad to have someone to assist who is as skilled at hitting things as an Orc King,” Shazah says generously.

“Should I say something inspiring here?” I ask. “I don’t really feel up to another inspiring speech right now. I just want to go hit more of those mathra things. They’re fun to hit.”

“You can skip the inspiring speech. Khali thinks we are already quite inspired.”

I suppose I can be “Moon Hallowed” if I really have to be, but if someone tries to make me “Star Hallowed” afterward, I’m going to get a fake tail and start speaking in the third person. Actually, come to think, I make a note in my journal to look into enchanted prosthetics when I’m not in the middle of trying to solve a crisis. That’s got to happen eventually. I mean, it’s not like Lord Gharesh-ri showed up yelling about the Mane going grim-dark immediately after the Silvenar and Green Lady touched the handfast. That would have been amazingly inconvenient and I wouldn’t have had a chance to fix some of the things that really did need fixing.

We head out from Fort Grimwatch by the north doors, which are actually intact and potentially capable of keeping out anything that didn’t feel like walking around. The Mane didn’t really do the structural integrity of this place any favors, but not all of the damage done to it was recent.

“Hey, Ilara-daro,” I say. “Can you teach me to speak like a Khajiit?”

“Is this… your latest brilliant plan?” Eran asks.

“You can never have too many disguises,” I say.

“Dare I ask what you intend to do with a Khajiit disguise?” Eran asks.

I shrug. “Probably murder.”

“I feel that if you want to go murdering, you might also look into how to kill just one person and not literally everyone that happens to be nearby,” Eran points out. “While burning down their village and laughing gleefully.”

“I don’t always do that,” I protest weakly.

“Ilara-daro will teach you to talk like a Khajiit,” Ilara says. “It’s all in the throat, yes? Rrrrrrrrr.”

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” I say.

“Ilara-daro can also tell you how not to draw attention to yourself,” Ilara goes on. “You are very good at drawing attention to yourself. Very… very good at drawing attention to yourself.”

“I’m not sure whether that’s a compliment or not,” I say.

“It is what it is,” Ilara says, whiskers twitching. “Var var var.”