Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-3548382-20131206221138/@comment-4705438-20140121102634

A supply of mountain water and whatever food was still inside the walls kept the population of Markarth weeks. But once the first gave in into the illness and fell, those inside the walls would start to rise up and hunt the living.

It didn't take long after the first falled for the gates of the city to be open. Flood of skeletal constructs rushed into the town, killing off the remaining resistance. It may be that some, however, had gone deeper into the ancient Dwemer towns. But that wasn't the priority of Lylonniss. They can be taken care of later.

Thralls who were not yet fallen were given the instructions to work the forges. "Smelt all the silver we've got, more will be coming." said Lylonniss ordering his thralls around,"You, you look like a blacksmith, craft spears and blades for the armies."

Meanwhile the more mindless skeletal minions were going through every crevice of the upper town, looking for anything that might prove valuable to the cause. Unexpectedly, of all places, Markarth had been hiding an altar to the Prince Molag Bal. This meant that the veil between worlds here was especially thin. So began the excavations.