Honoured Ancestors of the Redguards

By Lefzeah al-Hallin, priestess of Satakalaam

O, heroes of the first Warrior Wave,

from Akos Kasaz you sailed, led by great Yaghoub the Seafarer. Fearless were your hearts when you landed on unfamiliar shores, and you were faced with a thousand and five foes. You were fearless when you all of them struck down with your orichalc blades, and built great Hegathe atop their graves. You then traveled north, pushing your tusked adversaried back step by step. In the northwest you founded Sentinel, on your enemies' foul Malooc-shrine, to forever stand guard against the Men of the cold and barbaric north. Many followed in your steps, Ra Gada fathers, and founded cities from Stros M'Kai to the Hollow Wastes. You stood strong against Breton, Orc, Goblin and Elf, and made the once Dwarven deserts a land to call your own. Ansei in your desert forged three blades to consecrate the dead, and protect the honoured ancestors from falling to Elf-necromancers' sway. Maja, Radan, and Halelah with shehai their metal shaped. Gone are the Ansei now, but their memories still remain. To Alezer Kotu we travel still to remember their shehai-song.

O, heroes of the second Warrior Wave,

clad with the winged robes of blessed Tava you to Khefrem came. Under Star-Emperors you were led to found the city of Gilane. From Gilane you wandered west and founded Taneth and Rihad, doing so without facing any sign of resistance. Your kingdom was a place of happiness until Hubalajad was born, a cursed child of bad luck whose existence we all mourn. He wandered into the desolate lands of Khefrem's Boot and founded there a shanty town, a citadel and a tomb. In the town he became a prince over a people who commonly rebelled, and his dreams and hopes of grandeur were soon to be all lost. In the citadel his detractors were locked up, to be forgotten by all and any. In the tomb he his uncle buried, who had turned to necromancy. For his entire family was a cursed lot, hated by the gods. When Hubalajad died all Ra Gada cheered, and left the abah's landing, leaving it to thieves and begging folk.

O, heroes of the third Warrior Wave,

into the east you marched. To the Deathlands you came to face down the cowardly Nedic race. Though the Deathlands you marched together, slaughtering Nedes until you reached Skyreach. You found the Nedic capital empty of foes to slay, even king Durac seemed lost to Oblivion's void. But you Ra Gada cheered none the less, and the Na-Totambu Tarish-Zi stepped forth. He proclaimed himself Emperor of your new-won land. You, his soldiers, he called the Anka-Ra, and you swore to stand with him even after he fell. To the Yokudan gods Tarish-Zi did not turn, he turned the opposite way. To Herma-Mora, the daemon of knowledge and lore, he spoke, and the Daedra prince listened. Tarish-Zi wished for a great empire as mighty as old Yokuda, and Herma-Mora granted him the knowledge to achieve such an honourable goal. This knowledge turned the emperor mad, and against his people he turned. Tarish-Zi died yet young, and left a crumbling empire behind. Soon all that he built up had fallen, but you, his Anka-Ra, remain. You Craglorn to this day wander, waiting for the return of the emperor you serve.

Redguards of Hammerfell, these are your ancestors and forebears. Never forget them, and carry their legacy onwards.