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Lore:A Looter's Paradise

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|ON=1
|author=[[Lore:Books by Author#The Silver-Haired Shadow|the Silver-Haired Shadow]]
|description=A treatise on the march's history of banditry and rival feuds
}}
You don't need to know my real name—not sure I remember it anymore, anyhow. My auntie left me a shack on a hill south of the border. Never thought about it much, until I lifted {{Lore Link|Hrol}}'s Golden Girdle from the {{Lore Link|Temple of the One}}. Suddenly life got real complicated, and I decided it was time to go claim my inheritance.
 
Auntie—let's call her Auntie Alias, no point in telling you too much—was an {{Lore Link|Imperial}} Border Scout, part of the cohort stationed at {{Lore Link|Fort Sphinxmoth}}, in the hills between {{[[Lore Link|:Elsweyr|ONlink=Lore:Elsweyr}}]] and northern {{Lore Link|Valenwood}}. In the late days of the {{Lore Link|Second Empire}} the job of the Border Scouts was to keep the quarrelsome locals in line so as not to interfere with trade. "Free trade, by [[Lore:Alessia|Aless]]," auntie would say, opening another bottle of {{Lore Link|Surilie Farms}} and winking. "Lifeblood of the Empire!"
 
Now the Scouts couldn't stop every little cross-border vendetta, but they did prevent the {{Lore Link|Khajiit|Cats}} and the {{Lore Link|Bosmer|Runty Elves}} from engaging in wholesale slaughter, and kept the bandits off the road from {{Lore Link|Dune}} to {{Lore Link|Arenthia}}. Auntie liked the climate, so when she retired she bought this little plot, came down and put up her hut. It's bigger than it looks, by the way—goes way back into the hill, and you can bet auntie dug out a back door, just in case.
By the time I got here, one dark night in Sun's Dusk, with the wound in my thigh leaking blood again after that wild ride on the stolen horse, the Border Scouts were long gone, and the {{Lore Link|Dawnmead|Dawnmead Marches}} had returned to their natural state: just one law shy of anarchy. And that one law was the Law of Revenge.
 
It was the {{Lore Link|Vinedusk Rangers|Vinedusk}} Wood Elf tribe versus the {{Lore Link|Dakarn}} Khajiiti clan, and it was a near-continual war of cross-border raids and midnight murders. They took turns occupying the ruins of Fort Sphinxmoth, sending out bands to waylay merchant caravans, raid villages and towns, and pay off old scores. Neither side noticed me hiding in the old shack during daylight, and slipping from shadow to shadow around the Marches after dark. The place was a killing ground—I could hardly go five hundred paces without encountering a dead warrior, a half-empty cart, or a slain merchant.
 
It was a looter's paradise.