Good points Section8 and M'Aiq. Agreed on all.
*M'Aiq, I think the word you were looking for is "Shrooms".
Anyways, imagine this scenario...
----------------------------------------------
You're a citizen of Elfville in Cyrodiil. It's a moderately sized village, not a very large population, with decent trade routes to the Imperial City.
You make your living as a blacksmith, like your father and grandfather before you. You're friendly with most people in the village, and attend temple services. Your wife stays at home and tends to the children, who are always getting into trouble. You go the the bar at night to eat, drink, and be merry with the other townsfolk. Overall, life is good.
One day you hear from your friend, a town guard, that the emperor of Tamriel has been assassinated. Before you can recover from the shock, he also tells you the Imperial Legion is taking up arms from all around the empire because some kind of a gate has opened up in the city of Kvatch, unleasing hordes of daedra. They viciously killed citizens and destroyed buildings.
That night the bar is extremely busy. The entire town is there discussing this daedra incident. "What if a gate opens up here?" one man exclaims. "I heard they don't even die! And are fueled by the blood of innocents!" another one shouts. The local Mages Guild leader steps up and tells the town about the daedra, and how powerful they are. "We could probably take one or two if we're careful," he says "But we'd have to get out of town quickly if there were many. And I mean, get out of town fast. Leave your belongings and don't try to fight back!" The wizard also addresses something you've never even heard of, a daedra lord. He says, with fear in his eyes, "The daedra lords are the fiercest of them all. They are the most ruthless and vile creatures on the face of the earth. More evil than the snakemen to the north, more cunning than the dragons to the east. They wear spiked platemail that glows red from the blood of their own kind, souls infused into their armor! They wield massive weapons made of mithril, ebony, and adamantium." He pauses for a moment, then looks down at the floor, "If one should ever pay a visit to our humble town... gods help us all."
This is the talk of the town. People are worried, and you've noticed an increase in weapon purchases. Then, a few days later, you're outside of your shop fixing a broken hinge on the window. It's early in the morning, so most of the town is asleep and the streets are pretty much deserted. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you see a dark figure walking up. You turn your head, seeing a man fully decked out in armor that looks like it was made from the souls of the damned. It's gruesome spikes tell tales of violence and hatred. It glows red as if it were bleeding. Attached to the back of this figure is one of the largest and shiniest ebony claymores you've ever seen. The blade glistens as if it has just been sharpened, and the hilt is bloodstained.