The Tale of MericHe looked down at the Sanctuary beneath the Eldergleam, tears coursing down his cheeks. The Sisters lay in pools of their own blood, dun-colored robes stained with it. They hadn’t had a chance against those that came for them, who had slaughtered them and Jerbodun and Hahnu. He’d never seen a dragon die before, had never heard of mortals killing them. The Priests were lying; dragons could be as mortal as anyone else when faced with an axe. Barely eleven years old, and he now knew the biggest secret of the dragons. He somehow doubted he’d make it to twelve; his earlier life made him all too aware of the brutal world beyond the Sanctuary.
Oh dear mercy, where to begin? With the sheer immediacy of the setting? The ability to flesh out a shadowy vague cult into something recognizable and foreign at the same time? the believability of the characters? It's all here, wrapped up with an intriguing plot to boot.
As prologues go, this story is what the Star Wars prequels wished they were. All the necessary clues are there to the absolute terror Miraak will become, and yet, we still root for the indomitable child dragged behind the cart and sympathize as he mourns the kindness torn from him by Alduin's treachery.
seriously waiting with baited breath for the rest of this story to emerge.
so, vision: well, skyrim and the other elder scrolls did lay some groundwork, but what she does with it is magnificent.
originality: holy handballs what she does with the bare bones ES gives her.
technique: haven't seen better.
impact: well? where's my sequel, dang it!