I'm going to When the warm winds of pleasant hearthfire turn cold and bitter, and the days begin to grow short,

and the night foul and frostfall.

It's at the end when the spirits of Nern rise and beckon their most grievous

of malice among the denizens of Tamriel. It is I, your humble imperial host of unholy horrors.

Pinsent Vice.

And tonight we will hear a collection of tales of such, where the earning from beyond the

mortal coil of flush persists into oblivion, and must make its will manifest among those who do their bidding

or suffer the unholy consequences of go on rigor.

Let us step back through the ages to the second and meet a young woman,

mistress Genevieve, who must meet such a demand from beyond, to gain

a long sought reward. Our first tale takes us to the province of Glenumbra during this forgotten era before the

septoms in the city of Daggerfall where she steps into the doors of an inn named the Rosie Lion to find those

willing to follow her into the pit of hell. She steps inside from the soggy black of another frostfall evening.

Well, if there was ever a place to find those I need, this is it.

Sline I stabbed that half snake, half lady, the lady thing in the back and she turned around

and growled at me.

It was hilarious.

And I told her, I said, hey, I hear about as ugly as you smell lady.

Oh boy, I pissed her off something fierce.

I totally had her attention after that.

And yeah, everyone else of the cave did their thing,

and I took a couple of hits to the face.

...