Kyne ' s Challenge : A Hunter ' s Companion / Elsweyr Content . " Anywhere but Elsweyr , the Daedra Descend on Dune " OGRE . The journey away from the burning forests of Reaper ' s March and into the sprawling grasslands of Anequina was almost invigorating , as visibility and terrain improved considerably . Kishra - do finally cracked a smile as she prowled the landscape of her home province . We traversed the charred edge of the once - ancient forest , until our newest scout raised a paw and we dropped silently behind a collection of granite boulders . The Khajiit soon returned , with a full complement of knowledge about our latest sacrifices to Kyne . She had picked up an unmistakable odor : ogres were grazing in these grasslands , favoring animal meat and the taste of the odd wandering merchant . I was soon viewing a poorly constructed den from a small hillock , eyeing the three brutes as our party prepared for battle . Much like the primitive Reachman that the forward - thinking Nord shuns , many believe that the ogre to be a primal cousin to the Goblin or Orc . Certainly they share similar traits ; imagine an Orc at twice the normal size , forsaking high functions and quality armor in favor of powerful , oversized arms with scuffed knuckles that reach the ground without bending over , a strangely unhealthy pallor of rough , blue - tinged skin , the rudiments of fur armor , and just enough modesty for a loincloth . Strands of hair all over the place except the head , which is as bald and shiny as a scrying orb . Eyes almost disappear behind a thick brow , with a Goblin ’ s stolen nose and a mouth filled with teeth trying to escape in all directions . As for the smell … ogres share a distrust of soap much in the same way as a giant . By the time the largest of the ogres registered the discomfort of an arrow to the backside , Namasur had stippled his prey with further projectiles , all previously dipped in paralytic poison . This slowed an already sluggish enemy ; it became dazed and overwhelmed , seeing glimpses of blurred Redguard robes and a shining scimitar which cut a second hole to match the size of the ogre ' s mouth , only this one was sliced across the collarbone . The ogre dropped to a knee as its blood sprayed everywhere , offered a backhand strike at Namasur which actually connected , wobbling the slightly overconfident Redguard for a moment , before the ogre fell forward , coughing and clutching its neck . Namasur removed the head with one fell swoop , and it rolled down a small embankment , still wondering what had happened . Kishra - do chose a slightly smaller specimen , but neglected to weaken it beforehand , instead opting to launch herself from an overlook above the den . She landed on the ogre ' s back and made a few successful stabs , before she was grabbed and slammed into the ogre ' s campfire . As hot embers flew out in all directions , the Khajiit shook herself clean and ran straight into a stiff punch from her quarry . Shaking her jaw , she seemed to enjoy this game , and sprang at the foe , and then vaulted over the ogre to insert her daggers at various pain - inducing locations down the ogre ' s back . It let out a most intimidating roar , which caused Footfalls - in - Snow to falter in fear as he attacked his own foe , but this was a bellow of an ogre understanding his days of hunting and gathering were over . Roggvir and the Argonian flummoxed their foe by baiting it from opposing directions . All the ogre wished for was an opportunity to utilize its massive frame , and to smack either of them into brutally pulped shapes . This wish wasn ' t granted , to the ogre stomped the ground in anger , and began throwing large pieces of soil and rock at the Argonian . We had wiped off worse during our slog through Black Marsh . Undeterred , both hunters ended the final ogre ' s days by skewering it deeply through the ribs . So thorough were the insertions that one of the spears became stuck permanently , and had to be left inside the ogre ' s corpse . DURZOG AND GOBLIN . It appeared the Goblins were being driven from the moon sugar cane plantation ; the Khajiit of the Anequina had little time for these marauders , but we saw no stilted structures on fire or displaying scorch marks or other evidence of a Goblin rampage . As we closed in on the motley band of hunched green men , they seemed to be fleeing rather than advancing through the marsh , drooling and snarling about the mouth , and the Khajiiti spearmen chasing them had cloth masks draped over their faces . " Remnants of the Stonechewer tribe , " Kishra - do observed as we closed to arrow range . " Sweet Riddle ' Thar ! " she suddenly exclaimed , scavenging her baggage for a mask of similar material : " They have the Knahaten Flu " The remains of a war band were staggering , dragging their heels , and didn ’ t exhibit the usual sprightly cunning of a Goblin . Four pathetic specimens , two hunched and coughing , a robed shaman with alarming and disfiguring orange boils around his mouth and nose , and a wretched leader . Their green skin had an ashen overtone , as if layers of unwashed sweat had congealed over it . Goblin armor is famously slapdash : a collection of stolen pieces from other races , poorly mimicked on forges without the proper heat , and liable to fall apart under duress , like the Goblins themselves in this encounter . Tiny black pupils staring wildly from bloodshot eyes , jutting lower jaws of mangled teeth , and wiry but powerful frames . Primitive features , caked - in dirt . When Kishra - do bounded towards them with daggers raised , one of the Goblins dropped his approximation of a Redguard ' s axe and fled into the maze of cane stalks . This was a squalid band of miscreants . The war chief began shrieking unintelligible orders to his rabble from a makeshift saddle on top of a many - spined durzog . This strange , spined animal sagged slightly under the weight of its rider , a lizard ( that the Argonian had no qualms in killing ) , prowling on all fours and usually trained by Goblins as mounts or to watch their dens . Imagine a nix - hound , as tall as a broad - shouldered Nord , green in coloration save for patches of darker mottled tones and a brown striping emanating from the row of back spines . Ingjard wondered how comfortable the riding position was , as the beast ' s entire back , including its vicious - looking tail , was covered with these fin - like barbs . Hooked toes created to tear apart quivering flesh . A formidable jaw for lunging and never letting go . Three sets of beady eyes to search for prey and danger , and an intelligence a step or two above even that of their Goblin masters . Combat began with the shaman raising both arms and lost in a trace . Unfortunately for the Goblin , he interrupted his incantation with a coughing fit , leaving a few moments free for Kishra - do to introduce the wheezing magician to a pair of impeccably placed dagger thrusts , under the ribs and up through the chin , before removing them quickly and bounding away before the tainted blood infected her . The war chief wheeled around , his durzog rearing up and bounding forward , rushing at the Khajiit , biting and ripping at her with sharp fangs and a frenzied look in its many eyes . It removed a small shaving of Khajiit ankle fur for its troubles . We rallied to her aid , ignoring the possibility of a plague ( Roggvir bragging of his iron constitution , " I won ' t be put on my back with a case of the Goblin sniffles ! " ) , and Namasur sliced up the standing Goblin , who seemed almost thankful to be meeting his maker ( and hopefully chiding this primitive deity for permitting this affliction , which many Goblins of the realm were succumbing to ) . The durzog finally found a bone to chew on ; unfortunately it was attached to Roggvir ' s leg . The creature bit down until the Nord slipped on the watery ground ; his bone cracked , and blood seeped through the leather greaves . Fearing a laceration , the Nord retaliated with a bout of swearing too common to repeat here , grabbed the durzog by the head with one hand , and used the sword in his other to repeatedly puncture the animal ' s face and neck until the blood ran thick from both of them . Ingjard finally had to step in before Roggvir disfigured the durzog to the point of pulping , bringing an axe swiftly down to snap the creature ' s neck , which still hung on . A second blow severed the head , but still it refused to drop Roggvir ' s leg . Finally , Roggvir had to drag himself away and call the Argonian over to pry open the jaw , bind his wound , and apply some healing remedies . The Goblin leader simply stepped off his headless mount , knelt down before me , and grunted something in a primitive nonsense tongue . But by his gesticulations , he seemed to be pleading for a quick death by my hand . Never wanting to disappoint an adversary ( although I would hardly call this one worthy ) , I obliged with swift determination , remembering my days as Windhelm ' s executioner . SENCHE - LION . The grasslands bordering Bangkorai offer a wondrous view of the Khajiit ' s province , flat plains of lush grass undulating in a never - ending dance of windswept shapes . The soil is deep red , and the trees intermittent , branches reaching out , not up , to withstand the buffeting breeze . Kishra - do comes to the occasional stone carving , inspects the offering left there , and directs us onwards , towards our journey ’ s end at the merchant settlement of Dune . Before our arrival , we narrowly avoided a mauling . Not from some sharp - clawed , fang - toothed beast of the wild , but thanks to the animosity of two hunters within our own ranks . A snarling senche - lion bounded out of the tall grass , heckles raised across its arched back , growling and baring its considerable collection of pointy teeth : A proud - looking Khajiit ( a subspecies of Kishra - do ' s kind ) , and one of the many varieties of senche - tigers that are hunted across Tamriel , mainly by the Bosmer , for their fur and very sweet meat , although this fact isn ' t imparted to the Khajiit to any great extent , for obvious and mainly cultural reasons . This cat was easily as big on four legs as Roggvir was on two . A thick mane of hair and a wide snout gave it the look of a venerable Khajiiti trader , though it didn ' t use sarcasm to get its point across , preferring a growl and a raking of formidable clawed paws . The fur headdress continued down the back of sand - colored hair , which changed to a darker tone at the tail tuft . Just below the surface , we could see the rippling muscles of the beast ' s haunches , as it readied to attack . Roggvir readied an arrow . A spinning hand axe of Khajiiti origin severed the drawstring , and the arrow fell at Roggvir ' s feet . The Argonian tittered , then backed away quietly as Roggvir ' s expression changed to that of a man whose sweetroll had been stolen . I half feared a hairy transformation like his brother ' s , but Roggvir placed the bow softly on the ground , and forced his way into Kishra - do ' s personal aura . He stood nose to muzzle , glaring and red faced . Kishra - do brought a barbed blade up between the two of them , and Roggvir ' s seething breath condensed on it . The senche - lion stopped its growling , and sat down in the long grass , watching the spat intently . It was at this point that Kishra - do decided to pour hot oil on this fire . " Ah , the unclawed shaveskin ! Look ; my sword does not tarnish , despite your most virulent halitosis . Your hunter ’ s instincts are quick , but your lack of talent doesn ’ t allow you to slay an elder Sa - m ' Athra . " " Listen , House Cat , we are here to please Kyne , and I don ' t take my orders from a furry provincial . Befoul a Nord ' s bow again , and I ' ll be wearing your coat next winter ! " Roggvir ' s axe appeared between them now , as they pressed knotted foreheads together . “ Ha ! If you needed a warm cloak , why didn ' t we skin the pelt from your rabid brother back in Hammerfell ? Naturally we ' d dip it in a purifying agent to kill the lice first , yes ? ” Ingjard looked at me with concern . Meanwhile , the senche - lion had lain down , and was lazily chewing on grass . Roggvir smiled briefly and stepped back . I knew that look ; I needed to step in , as he was readying to throttle the cat . He spoke quietly : “ Too much moon sugar , you antsy grimalkin ? Here , let me find you a ball of yarn to play with … after I kill your uncle ! ” Roggvir turned to sprint for the senche - lion , but I caught him by the shoulder and led him ( under protest ) away from both Khajiiti troublemakers . I explained our predicament ; we were deep in Khajiiti territory , and our merchant benefactor was a cat . A modicum of diplomacy was required . After much persuasion , we agreed we would hunt and skin a senche - tiger after Kyne ’ s challenge was resolved . Kishra - do , as if to add a further metaphorical slap to Roggvir ' s face , was slowly approaching the senche - lion , with one arm raised to signify she wasn ' t a threat ( while the other fingered a dagger on her back belt ) . She nuzzled the lion for a moment , speaking to it in a purring tone . Then she leapt across its back . Not to plunge a dagger down , but to ride the tamed beast . Roggvir ' s mood was livid all the way to Dune . DREMORA . The merchant settlement of Dune was in the distance , in the middle of our view of the fertile desert with flat plains stretching on seemingly to the edge of Mundus . Kishra - do circled back from a prowl on her senche - lion , leaned down from her mount , and motioned to a commotion in the distance . “ You prepare to slaughter the overconfident who stain our lands with filth , yes ? ” I peered past her pointed paw , my old eyes adjusting slowly in the twilight . A dark cloud of red and black shapes , churning up the dust behind them : a band of degenerate scavengers intent on assailing the inhabitants of the town . “ The chattel of Coldharbour stalk this land , and hope to burn down my home . Despite the hobbling one , ” she nodded to Roggvir , “ we have a fragrant band of walkers , and I would be no happier serving a Khajiit , ” she now nodded in deference to me : “ But we must lance these boils ! ” Before she charged off to start carnage she might not survive , I beckoned our hunters to cluster . Tonight we hunt Dremora . “ These are no mere Daedra , ” Namasur started , intending a diatribe on the societal structure of ‘ the Kyn , ’ as he called them . Ingjard stopped this banter with a raised stone fist : “ Listen , Redguard . I only wish to learn one aspect from your studies : Where to strike to cause them most pain ! ” Roggvir slapped a thigh ( his healthy one ) in delight , and the remaining conversation was spent confirming the weakness of Daedra armor , and the expected aggression to watch for . We weren ’ t to rabbit like Breton fishwives , though ; the Dremora were cutting across the savanna like an opening wound . Our adversaries were salivating over the cat meat inside the walls of Dune ; they had neglected to watch their flank . Kishra - do wished to attack from disparate directions to harry them . But there was no time to surround our foes . Or was there ? Namasur displayed some heretofore hidden talents , touching both Kishra - do and her mount gently on the back while mumbling something foreign . In a flash , they were both gone , intending to reappear on the far edge of the grassland , to offer a late ( but tactically advantageous ) charge . The flash had the added effect of stopping the advancing Dremora horde , as they turned as one to face us . We counted four imposing figures , clad in the Daedra fineries of their ilk , each with a few baying clannfear or banekin at their boots . Such revolting familiars need no description , but their summoners stood shoulder to shoulder , each a more grotesque excuse for a man . A Caitiff and a Kynval warrior , each built for battle : one clutching an evil - looking broadsword with both clawed gauntlets , the weapon glinting in the low sunlight , and a glowing blue gem affixed to the blade . The other came with a shield : a lattice of red metal and ebony , finely tempered metal with thick curves and points to damage even while bashing . In the other hand an axe , hilt and pommel sharply pointed , with a blade so sharp it could split hair , or carve vertically through a head and out through the loins . Both strode in heavy armor of frightening beauty , dozens of interlocking plates and a full helm showing only the lidless eyes of menace . A nightblade Kynreeve , clad in light black and red , thinner plates allowing for quicker movement , and dual daggers spinning about his palms . Deep ceremonial cuts across a gaunt face , pointed forehead grooves burrowing into the protruding brow , ash - gray skin , pointed ears , and two more horns where a chin should be . Their leader , a mage Kynmarcher of considerable power , twisted horns protruding through her black hood , a bodice of rope and metal , sewn from hopelessness . Plates of ebony and red , firmly interlocking and forged in otherworldly fire . She carried a staff with a focusing crystal of amethyst , pulsing and ready to discharge hatred . A predilection for spikes , even among those prone to less obvious violence . A rotting skull at her belt , signifying deviance and the acts of necromancy . Though their armor was black and red , their eyes were pale blue : Their fealty was to Molag Bal . We announced our intentions first : Ingjard was our finest archer . She made a shot so straight and true , songs will be sung about it for years to come . From the furthest range possible , it struck the Kynmarcher through the left eye . What Ingjard hadn ' t shared with us was the additional gift she had been saving for this special occasion : a small charge of explosive powder squirreled away since Windhelm . The Dremora leader staggered back , clutching the arrow , and was attempting to wrench it from her skull when it detonated , blowing her head and part of her arm off . The rest of her slumped into a heap , her spirit summoned back to Molag Bal for an indeterminate amount of prostate flailing . Chaos ensued . Clannfear charged , but our other archers followed Ingjard ' s lead , and the idiotic Daedra familiars were cut down and strewn about the low grass before they reached us . Six banekin faltered , their innate cowardice causing them to flee from us and into the mauling claws of Kishra - do ' s senche - lion , which toyed with ( and then tore apart ) two of their number . The Khajiit and the vanishing Redguard had also appeared , gleefully slicing parts of various sizes from the panicked servitors . With all but three of their number left unscathed , the nightblade spoke in angered , throaty tones : “ Varlets and Churls ! Bay for the blood of your victims , for your deaths are unimportant . My kynaz ! Don ' t spare your fury . May your violence please the Harvester of Souls ! ” Not knowing when to run from greater numbers , the arrogant Dremora charged at full pace towards our main group . A pitched battle raged : a blur of fur , metal , scales , swords , axes , and blood . The Argonian cut in the arm . The Kynval finally defending with his shield , catching a vicious flurry from Ingjard . Roggvir followed up with further axe play , expertly parried by the red and black monster . This dance of death finally ended when an Argonian dagger was pounded through Kynval boot , and two Nord weapons continued the dismembering until Dremora armor was only the color red . Namasur hoisted the Caitiff aloft with a spear sideways through the Dremora ' s ribs , out the other side , and then off the ground : The armored fiend dropped to his feet , took both ends of the Redguard ' s prized spear , snapped them off , and advanced at Namasur with a smile and a section of spear pole still poking his innards . This mocking bravery ended abruptly ( as Namasur ' s ruined spear had sentimental value ) , as the Redguard began a reckless sword rampage ; the Caitiff ' s own massive , double - handed blade coming within a hair ' s breadth of slicing off the Redguard ' s head . Wild swings turned to death throes as Namasur ' s scimitar found its home embedded in the Caitiff ’ s arm , severing it completely with a second strike . The Dremora watched almost quizzically as its own appendage thrashed on the ground like a freshly caught salmon , then attempted to wield its sword with its remaining arm . The blood loss was too great , and it fell forward , dismissed and gushing with blood . The nightblade ' s daggers were a blur before my beard , as it mixed grace and power in its strikes against my armor . Small cuts were all it managed , as I had some previous experience fighting bears with only my knuckles , and dagger combat with the Companions of Whiterun . The Dremora seemed surprised that an old man was keeping up with his furor of small blades . This turned to incredulity when I plucked both his wrists from the air around my head , and followed up with the old “ Rorikstead hello , ” a forehead to the face that cracked his helm and put him on arse . I had pounced on him before the blood began to flow from his broken nose . I hadn ’ t been bettered in wrestling for nigh on ten years , and this upstart had little chance . Pinned down , all the nightblade could manage was a sneer , and he spit through broken teeth : “ We shall return with strength in our numbers , we shall writhe in your nightmares , and we … ” My own dagger through his neck finished his sentence , and the nightblade at last fell silent . DAEDRA TITAN , ZOMBIES , AND A TERRIBLE DAEDRIC INCURSION . The sun had burned all but its embers as our procession reached the ornate crenelations and crescent moons adorning the high walls of Dune . Graceful architecture of the cat men , venerating the divine nature of the moons , and harking back to the oldest memories of Tamriel , when the Khajiiti moon emperor ruled this entire province . But we weren ' t here to marvel at the architecture ; we were here to settle our account with trade merchant Zagun - ra and say our goodbyes to Kishra - do , before venturing further inland . A conclusion to our challenge lay in Cyrodiil , although the reports I was hearing painted a picture of unrest and strife . We were met at the gates by a venerable Khajiit , clad in the robes of a moon bishop . Although his fur was graying around the eyes , and his chin tufts were now white , I recognized the broad shoulders and markings of my benefactor : “ Fellow walker Zagun - ra ! ” I embraced him . “ May Jone and Jode cast their light upon your dance ! ” Zagun - ra smiled . “ A most fragrant welcome ! May your thirst for mead never be quenched , most hairy of my acquaintances ! ” The Khajiit beckoned Kishra - do over : “ Get off that mount , you muskarse ! Gather the spoils and take them to the apothecary , or I ’ ll be keeping the moon sugar for myself . Quickly , yes ? ” Roggvir smirked as Kishra - do bowed her head , met the Argonian , and was weighed down by the copious sacks , bags , and general belongings of our hunt . “ I trust my House Cat has been behaving , yes ? Good . Let us retire to the Sweet Plethora Teahouse and discuss payment . Not your rabble , though . ” The place smelled too sickly for my liking ; tapestries were too intricate and involved the marking of the moon ' s path . I attempted to tug my foot into a cross - legged position , and failed . But the tea was excellent , if a little sweet and thick ( and laced with moon sugar , I later found out ) . As Zagun - ra finished counting gold coins , and placing them ( along with numerous gems ) into a bag as large as my head , he leaned in . “ Sweetcake ? Caramelized goat nibbles ? Honey pudding ? ” he asked , pointing at an array of dainty cakes on the embroidered - cloth - covered table . “ Not for me . I have an Argonian with a sweet fang , who … ” “ No matter , ” Zagun - ra interrupted , his expression changing like the wind . “ Listen , my hirsute friend , I ' ve heard troubling news from the Baandari peddlers . You must have seen the constellation of the serpent , how it dwarfs the others in our night ’ s sky . ” I lied and nodded my head . “ Tell me , have you encountered more than your fair share of Daedra ? ” I nodded again , explaining our most recent infraction with the Dremora , and the elder Khajiit sat back , softly tugging at his whiskers . “ Troubling … ” A loud clattering in the street outside announced Kishra - do ' s arrival . I could hear general commotion , and the blur of cat folk running in all directions behind her . “ Master Zagun - ra ! ” Kishra - do spoke with a tremor in her voice for the first time : “ Dark anchor ! ” The stars were blotted out , replaced by a terrible circular storm , from which a great wailing was heard , then the grinding of chains as a gargantuan metal hook plummeted from the firmament , stabbing the ground close to the city walls , which shook but remained steadfast . Clods of earth were chewed and thrown up as the anchor dug deeply . Out of the scars clawed hands appeared , a mass of dark spirits sent to befoul Elsweyr . “ Dro - m ' Athra , everywhere ! ” Kishra - do and her kin were at the walls , bows at the ready as a great bell tolled in my head , its source unknown . A stream of the cackling , dancing , and revolting now . Clannfear , banekin , and other more powerful entities which we had faced previously in our travels . Dremora barking at their minions , whipping them forward , great courage in great numbers . A Daedra priest was seen . Was he the one we encountered at the great necropolis in Hammerfell ? He certainly chose to reenact that day , as other , damned souls now slithered from the great hole : a mass of the diseased , unwashed , and unwanted . An army of zombies with a Daedra necromancer , rotting flesh from every race in Tamriel . Kishra - do and a small contingent of armored Khajiit formed at the gate , and a storm of arrows flew from the city walls . A daedroth was struck but still stomped on , unflinching . A banekin dropped , gasping at the bolt through his gullet . But the fate of the horde seemed inconsequential as we looked up at the sky . The whirl of clouds had darknened more considerably , with great flashes of lightning erupting from the maelstrom . Those with throats in the horde began to cackle uncontrollably . Then the landscape was bathed in a pale blue light , a frigid illumination from the depths of Coldharbour . The light grew in strength until it was as bright as day , and the evil glee intensified . A huge circle of metal , held up in the heavens by the magic of Molag Bal himself , opened , and a grim shadow was cast over Dune . A huge and terrible head plummeting down , weaving between the three chains of the dark anchor , unfurling great tapestries of wings , swooping and circling the settlement . Over the wind and echoing laughter , Namasur had stepped to my side . He squinted through the storm of dust and evil : “ Beware , for it attacks with great strength , virulent disease , and without mercy . ” The screaming wind was almost deafening now . “ A dread servant of Molag Bal ! ” A behemoth had torn through from Oblivion . A Daedra titan , keeper of the black soul gems for the Lord of Brutality . Next it landed , spreading out its tattered ( but considerable ) wings , digging into the soil , claws first , cutting a fissure with its feet and kicking up more soil and rocks in its wide wake . A head proudly showing off its tusks , flayed skin , and three huge , primal horns . Seeping mists of blue spread up from the skull - like nostril holes and the wicked eye slits . Flayed skin stretched over a protruding skeleton of ribs , tendons , and sharp - spined ridges , all seemingly carved from Coldharbour stone . Twice the size of a mammoth , and unquestionably more savage , it sniffed the air , opening its overlapping fang mouth to taste the fear , and appeared to feed off the energy of the baying horde . To the rear , its long , thorny tail whipped from left to right , the tip shaped like the legendary mace of Molag Bal himself . Trumpeting thunder sounded as it roared forward , focusing its might on the Khajiit defending Dune . A raking claw sent two cat folk tumbling , one remaining still on the ground , stained in blood . Archers at the ready , their missiles were fired and then forced downwards as the titan flexed its formidable wings , conjuring a billowing gale that knocked many defenders from their perches , and turned arrows to snapped sticks . I saw Kishra - do lead six brave Khajiiti pit fighters , who sought to overwhelm the giant . One was cut down the middle by a huge , hooked toe . Another two bounded onto the haunches of the beast , but were caught by the titan ' s writhing tail and run through , falling under the beast , mangled . Two more were lost in a huge sphere of light , a scourge bolt spat from the maw . This left two remaining cat folk , cutting through the titan ' s front arms , one gathered up and squeezed out into a furry pulp . Kishra - do threw her spear with force , and it lodged in the titan ' s gullet . It gave a great cough , shook its head , and inhaled before bellowing a river of soul flames out , engulfing Kishra - do . Ingjard was atop the battlements , yelling at the felines to fire upon the behemoth . I saw the tail strike her down , and she disappeared with three other archers , under a mass of collapsing stone . Namasur sped past me , shouting a farewell : “ There are worse ways to die ! ” His eyes on the titan , he was upon the hulking form and slicing through its armpit as it turned , grabbed the Redguard , and flung him across the plains . He was still alive when he struck the middle of the crowd of Daedra , but I lost sight of him as a dozen wretched forms leaped upon him to tear out his soul . Roggvir turned to me , the light of Sovngarde behind his eyes : “ Let them kill me ! As long as I take enough of them with me , it ' s worth it ! ” With that , he raised his axe and sped forth , one man charging headlong into an army of Daedra . As he reached the first line of marauders , he began to change , armor shredding from his expanding back , hair sprouting , and claws forming through collapsing leather gauntlets , a wolf ' s head forming to feast on the profane ones . “ I knew it ! ” “ Ah , well . It is long since I have licked the Tree . ” Footfalls - in - Snow was by my side . As he had always been . I was a fool to mistrust this vassal ; he had a loyalty few Nords exhibit . But my thoughts were not about his journey to the Hist Tree . It was the looming face of Molag Bal ' s emissary , but also the smaller minions , rushing as a pack . They were twenty footsteps away . Now ten . The behemoth opened its jaw , and I stared into an abyss . I felt the crowd upon me . I closed my eyes and began to chant .