The Mor Khazgur Massacre

Nearly a year after the Battle for Solitude, the Jarls of Skyrim had all but bent the knee to Ulfric Stormcloak. However, while a Moot had yet to occur, a period of instability hung over the province as Imperial units continued to rally and attempt to control parts of the countryside.

We had recently regained a post near the Dragon Bridge, and held camps throughout the Reach. The objective, for the time being, was to secure footholds between Solitude and the border with Cyrodiil.

Legate Hrollod had struck an accord with the orcs of Mor Khazgur, and troops were quietly rallying there. We were not allowed inside their walls, but the orcs provided a haven for us in the surrounding lands.

On the 2nd of First Seed, 4E 203, word had been sent to us that a group of Stormcloaks intended to attack us. We saw little threat in this challenge. With Stormblade all but removed from his military post and given the task of helping govern Windhelm, and Ulfric having advised his men to simply kill Imperial soldiers at will, there was little order among the ranks of the Stormcloaks.

For this reason, learning their whereabouts and intelligence was fairly easy. We knew where they would be, and we were ready. I had faith in our cause and our strength, and I knew this would be a day of hope for the Empire.

By all accounts, what happened next was impossible. Stormblade was known to be in Windhelm, and yet on the 7th morning of First Seed, the heat of battle was interrupted by his own dread, dark figure swinging Volendrung at any Imperial who failed to outrun him. Perhaps it was our mistake to forget that he also kept the company of orcs...but the odds of him visiting that particular stronghold were slim.

The destruction he brought was even worse than what I had expected...I had never believed the tales we heard from the height of the war--surely they had to be exaggerated. Stormblade brought with him an even worse threat--an ancient corpse of a dragon named Durnehviir who had been seen before in Stormblade's presence. The two of them lay waste to any who stood in their path.

The rest of the story is not so different from those you have heard: Dead Imperials and dead Stormcloaks rose to fight the living, and Stormblade, cloaked in a venomous shadow, barreled through the fields like a saber cat, spraying blood wherever he swung his hammer.

I survived the day only by stealth and cowardice. It was my instinct to flee when, half my men lying dead, a green wave of sickly light brought them all to their feet, and the fight began anew.

I turned my back to them all and began to sprint past the walls of those traitorous orcs, where I hid on a promenade till the sounds of death below me had quieted down.

I write to you now from my room in Old Hroldan, where to this day I have not left. I lose track of the days since that battle, but it does not matter. I wait only for word of Stormblade's death to reach these doors, and till then I will keep watch and hope he does not happen upon us.

I have traded my armor for more subtle clothing...there is no use for it now. I will never fight again.