"It turns out that no pest is more adapted to the Nords of Skyrim than the orcs. These fanged orcs have occupied our beautiful lands dating back to before Ysgramor crossed the Sea of Ghosts. Although that era did not yet exist There are no written records, but the history of the Companions mentions that they completely destroyed the orc stronghold in Skyrim just as they drove the snow elves from the land.
Orc strongholds are well-defended fortresses, usually located near mineral resource storage points. Each stronghold contained the infrastructure to support a dozen or more families and was surrounded by walls designed to repel anything but a strong military force. Many (Nord) lords are remembered in song as having died in (mostly) vain attempts to clear their realms of orc strongholds. To make matters worse, without a Nord fortress responsible for the counterattack, the destroyed stronghold would be rebuilt within a generation, and a Nord fortress requires stable supplies and food stores.
Few lords can afford to defend the pile of stones for any length of time, so the Orc Stronghold remains a smallpox in our lands. Some orc strongholds have existed in this manner for hundreds or even thousands of years. It is said that Cradlecrush, the ancient orc stronghold in the East, has never been taken by force or abandoned, even though the ore veins it sits on have been exhausted.
The greatest moment of power for the orcs of Skyrim was when Yanshnagg established his position as chieftain in the early Second Age. As the combined Breton and Redguard forces destroyed Orsinium, large numbers of orcs were driven into Skyrim. Banished from High Rock, Yanshnag and his people fled to the east, seizing parts of Skyrim that they believed belonged to the orcs by ancient privilege. King Swart of West Skyrim failed to prevent the orcs and Reachmen from disrupting West Skyrim's kingdom during his reign. The chieftain wreaked havoc on Falkreath in the west for more than thirty years, until he was destroyed by the new lord of Falkreath, the assassin Harkveld Yanshnag in 2E 467.
When Yanshnag killed his father on the battlefield, Harkwild became the new Lord of Falkreath. The young lord inherited only a fragmented land, mostly occupied by orc invaders from the west. Harkveld is said to have challenged Yanshnag and many of his champion warriors to combat in a ritual trial. He defeated each opponent in turn. How Harkveld came to know of this little-known orc ritual is still unknown, but with their leader defeated, Yanshnag's followers abandoned the chiefdom.
With the destruction of the chiefdom, the orcs scattered further across Skyrim or returned to the mountains of Wrothgar. The orc tribes originating from Yanshnag harbor a fierce hatred for the kings of Skyrim. Ironically, as the orcs reconnected with the people of western Tamriel who destroyed their first homeland hundreds of years ago, their hatred of the Nords grew. "——"Orcs of Skyrim·Drifter Sola".
During the Tianchen War in 2E 583, the Reach Deathhorn Clan (Dreadhorn Clan) united with the tauren to attack Skyrim, first targeting Falkreath. The then Lord of Falkreath, Hjurgol Skjoralmor, thought it was a rumor and ignored it. Harnessing ancient Neder technology, the tauren leader Domihaus the Bloody-Horned became incredibly powerful. During the siege of the city by the Reachers, when the cowardly and incompetent Rugor was trampled to death by the tauren chief while hiding in the lord's hall, his daughter Eerika Skjoralmor took charge of the city's defense. But as the war progressed, the number became smaller and smaller. Until a group of adventurers came to the rescue, Erica moved the survivors from the Hall of the Dead to a nearby city. They then began to counterattack, eventually repelling the Reach and the tauren.
“Kark,
You once asked me how I could serve a cub half my age. That statement of yours is insulting, but I haven't given you a written reply yet, so I'm telling you now, while I still have time.
I returned home after defeating an Akaviri snake warrior of some repute. I presented my sword to Lord (Rugor) and became a member of the ranks, but the reward in exchange was just walking on the city wall where I was stationed. When the lord's wife and children traveled to Solitude for the coronation of High King Svargrim and needed an escort, I seized the opportunity to leave the realm.
The journey seemed very tedious until we left Loristed and the calm was disturbed by a jolt. We stopped the caravan warily, waiting for some clearer sign of danger. This is a fatal mistake. We halted hesitantly in the path of a herd of stampeding mammoths. They suddenly surged out from the tree line (the long edge of the forest) and passed through us effortlessly, knocking over the carriages and trampling down the soldiers. As one of the beasts was about to fall on us in a death rush, I managed to throw the lord's young daughter, Erica, out of the way, but her mother and I were not so lucky. Half-buried beneath an avalanche of (mammoth) fur, I heard the angry roar of a giantess as she slapped the last guard out of her herd. The giantess locked eyes with me, trapped beneath her dead mammoth, and I knew how it would end.
As her shadow blocked the light, I slowly accepted my impending fate and didn't see Erica climb onto the mammoth. I tried to shout, but my warning was drowned out by the child's angry roar, and even the huge figure in front of me was shocked. I don't know whether it was fear or regret that gave the giantess pause, but she gave in before the fearless cub (Erica). I was spared thanks to Erica, but her mother was not so lucky. With my leg crushed, I spent the rest of the trip in the carriage trying to comfort Erica as best I could, but she didn't need my sympathy. Her tears were as hard as ice. In fact she can handle the death of a loved one better than her father. While the lord kept starting his meetings from the cup, the burden of responsibility fell on Erica (meaning that Rugor drank to live, and Erica was running the city).
At the age of twelve, she strode into the bear's den to fight the famine of early winter. At the age of sixteen, she led a handful of loyal swordsmen to drive the orc marauders from our lands. At nineteen, she slew the rampaging frost troll Raudhungr and earned her title of lord through action rather than blood. There is not a soul in Falkreath that does not owe Erica a favor and life. I am no exception. This territory lasts because there is steel in that woman's soul, and we will need every scrap of it in the days to come.
Thunder roared on the mountains, but it wasn't rain that was approaching in the distance. The horn of Reach heralded the coming torrent, but the unfortunate microtremor came too late. This may be the last time you hear my words, so take these words to heart: There is no higher honor in my life than to serve Erica Skochmore, and no greater honor than to die beside her. Guardian's greater glory.
If we ever talk again, it's definitely down to her.
your brother,
Torik" - "A letter penned by a loyal housecarl of Thane Eerika Skjoralmor".
