Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20140829030614/@comment-11457306-20140831050543

"You were once one of them," said Rhiannon. It was a statement, not a question. She sat back, reflecting on what must have been a terrible irony. As unpleasant as they were, they did serve a purpose. They made a career of protecting the people of Skyrim from any undead in any form, vampires, Daedra and any other evil creature. Unfortunately they were fanatics who saw the world in black and white--instead of the grey it really was. Once Morrigan had been taken, obviously against her will, she was beyond redemption in their eyes--unholy, an abhoration--a monster to be killed, rather than a sister to be healed.

That was why she could not abide them. Judgement was in the hands of the gods, not in the hands of vigilantes.

"They can be wiped from the face of Nirn," Morrigan. "I have many fine warriors who serve me.  They take care of my lands as we speak.  What say you?"