a madman's pamphlet

A madman's tract scrawled in charcoal. The title reads "THE THALMOR WERE RIGHT"

Grasp this truth with your hands, Cyrodiil. The Thalmor are your friend, and the heresy of Man is coming to an end. The Great War was a dance shared by lovers, an echo of an old hate none can recall. This son of Skyrim sees the field of battle with his eyes and remembers. The Eight bless you with prosperity, you say. Warm bread and fair wind, HAH! These are only a half-truth. The Eight are false. Talos was a mortal lie rolled to god-size truth while you slept in the enemy's house with poisoned bread in your gut. Frozen winds blow in naked branches and the contentment of bread turns to more hunger. Cold and hungry you have forgotten your moth-father. The Thalmor hear the winds keening with their ears and remember. The Eight have caught you in a trap, fox-brother!

You are being played for a fool, Cyrodiil. SMASH THE EIGHT. They are not parents, they are gaolers. The dragon is the biggest lie of all, and imported whole cloth from the Daedra-blessed ELVES! Aka-foulness. Alduin, World-Eater, Benevolent King. HAH, I spill my soup! Clever men say it was broken before, how can it be whole again on your coat of arms? You fight for an Empire plagued with mad kings and murdering harlots. Could the dragon be sane?

JOIN US.

Bearer of this pamphlet should return it in good faith to any Thalmor Justiciar. You are entitled to three hot meals, a warm coat, and expeditionary service to the Thalmor. Glory to the ancestors. SKYRIM FOREVER.