Hey, enjoy the story… I feel that the way the story will go, it will continue to split off into multiple story-lines, introducing new characters all the time. (What I've been doing to be honest) Much better chapters coming up I hope, many longer chapters, more fights, more suspense.

Chapter 5…

Oddly enough, I have had no inspiration, nor will to write, nor the time or the good computer, and my story I feel is not good, but im uploading anyway, I like perfecting my writing.

And to the reviews I have received, thank you! Even for one review, to judge my work or ask means that you care and that gives me the confidence to write another chapter and perfect my story. (I shall also go back into past chapters and fix grammar issues)

Ill start presenting how dialect and talking is as well.

Talking: Skyrim

Thinking: Skyrim

Daedra, Spirit, Deity, beginning and ending footnotes: Nine, Skyrim, Tamriel, etc.

Chapter V…. Tragedy in Hammerfell

…

Whiterun, Whiterun Hold, Skyrim

Brynjar was walking through his castle rather bored. It had been a week since that conference incident occurred, and already Brynjar was annoyed with how his fate was starting to turn out.

Firstly, the Imperials and Aldmeri were at arms in his holds forest, his peoples land; and then the peace conference was blown up, add another thing to the checklist. He was worried about that crafty elfish woman and her teleporting technique, was the kind of magicka she had released, he never had faced before? He heard about teleport techniques and stealth moves, but it was so weird to see one for his own eyes.

He had already had other Jarls bugging the gold out of him and his province, being the most powerful in manpower and economy had the whole of skyrim looking to him as their support, what Nords they had become.

Then again, if he did nothing to help, the stronger elves or imperial soldiers would strike the weaker settlements on the border; and then Whiterun would be weaker in the moment and would be open for invasion, and even non Jarls knew that, so many petitioned for Brynjar to send aid consisting of his holds hard earned money and well trained soldiers.

Topping it off, he had heard many rumors recently of the regions Black Marsh, Morrowind, Elsweyr, even Skyrim, considering an alliance if the Aldmeri Empire and it's many elf soldiers were to invade. They've worked out calling it the quad-partite pact. Hmm, really does resemble the Ebon-Heart pact doesn't it?

Another rumor of the Bretons Allying with the Orsimer Orcs, to protect themselves against the Altmer threatening the rest of Tamriel. What! THE ORCS? The young Jarl thought.

What a strange alliance, but then again, at one point, the Nords as well fought the Dark elves and Argonian, and now there was a 4 region pact being made. Much like the Ebon-Heart Pact, Brynjar thought.

Brynjar went to his book shelf and sat down a bit, flipping open the pages of an old scorched book.

It reads, "The Ebon-Heart Pact, then and there, By Tiber Tulusia" It went on to explain in present day at that time the advantages of each pact member and the achievements.

(You can skip ahead in the story, this is just vital information from the game and history of the Ebon-Heart pact, I do remember someone asking for something along these lines, and the alliances forming in the story are literally forming to be a second kind of Ebon-Pact)

The Ebonheart Pact has forged an unlikely alliance between the far-flung nations of Morrowind, Skyrim, and Black Marsh, bringing together the Dark Elves, the Nords, and free Argonian for their mutual defense. Thanks to the size of its allied nations and the distances involved, the Pact remains relatively free of inner strife and discord. The Nords and Dark Elves have so much of their own territory to deal with that they have little time to spare for meddling in each other's affairs. The Ebonheart Pact came about in 2E 572 in response to the Second Akaviri Invasion of northern Tamriel. The Nords, Dark Elves, and free Argonian joined forces to save the rest of Tamriel from slaughter and subjugation. Forged in war, the alliance brought a sudden new power to the continent. At first, few believed the Dark Elves would be able to maintain an alliance with their ancient blood enemies and former slaves, but after a troubled decade, the Pact remains strong and intact.

A Great Moot governs the Pact. This council of equals from each of the member races is not only known for hot tempers and loud voices, but also for mutual respect and an amazing will to hold the Pact together against all odds. Only as equals can the allies hope to mollify the pride of the Nords and the Dark Elves while addressing the injuries suffered by the once-enslaved Argonian.

Serving as an integral, perhaps even critical, part of the alliance, the Dark Elves of Morrowind are aloof, proud, and profoundly strange. They work hard to conceal their disdain for their "inferior" allies, but the current crisis requires the strong arms of Nords and wily resourcefulness of Argonian to keep rival alliances at bay. Wizardly craft and a deep well of experience serve the Dark Elves well, providing the Pact with the vital ability to react and adapt — something neither the Aldmeri Dominion nor the Dagger fall Covenant can claim to do as well. The Pact fields superior warriors and sorcerers. And they possess an asset that no other race can match: three living gods — Almalexia, Vivec, and Sotha Sil— abide among them. (It goes on to read)

The Nords of Eastern Skyrim are fearless and aggressive, industrious and enterprising. They excel at war and prosper in trade, and they are without equal as explorers and trailblazers. Strong, stubborn, and hardy, they customarily solve problems through combat. Nords cheerfully rush into battle with a ferocity that frightens and appalls their enemies. They accept and even revel in their role as shock troops for the Ebonheart Pact. Nords are direct, not subtle: they champion simple solutions in the meetings of the Great Moot, though they are often outvoted by shrewd Argonian and sagacious Dark Elves. On the field of battle, however, they have no equals. Pact generals tend to be Nords, as are most of the soldiers in the field. The Nords don't mind. This means they also get first choice of the spoils of war.

By their decisive intervention against the Akaviri, the Argonian of Black Marsh won their freedom from Dark Elf enslavement, and the lessons they learned have made them a valuable member of the Pact. Reserved and alien, their expressionless faces and flat intonations make it difficult for other races to interpret their true motives. Nevertheless, the Argonian possess a cool intelligence. Slow to trust and hard to know, their natural agility makes them as comfortable employing magic as they are using stealth and steel. Years of defending their borders have made them experts in waging war against stronger, more traditionally organized armies. Equally at home on land or in water, they serve as scouts and skirmishers among the Pact forces. Other aspects of Argonian culture are nearly incomprehensible to outsiders, including their social hierarchy and collective decision making. Their representatives present strange proposals without explanation, but their allies have learned that there's always a reason for everything they do.

Today, the young Jorunn the Skald-King serves as the acting High King of the Moot, but not all in the alliance support him. As the members of the Pact struggle to maintain and solidify their alliance, they must also deal with internal threats to each of their nations. Unsolved, these threats could destroy them before they ever face the Dominion or Covenant in open battle.

Brynjar closed the book, "Phew, too much reading" he complained to himself, but what he literally read was shaping up to be a reality, and It seemed like High King Cadmael, though young as he is, will take up the banner like young at the time Jorunn the Skald-King.

Not only did he have rumors to back up his knowledge, before the fire in the Palace of Kings, the crafty Whiterun Jarl had managed to steal several key important documents to the defense of Skyrim. Who would have thought allying with long time old enemies of Nords like the Dark elves?

"Well, I certainly imagined that this would happen, if only in one empires time" A deep voice interjected in the young Jarls mind.

This caused Brynjar to trip over himself and he fell down his castle stairs, he was sent from the top of the stairs down to the bottom where he fell on top of a guard.

As they got up and dusted themselves off, the guard noticed his leader was off, "You ok sir?" he asked concerned.

"Yes soldier, carry on" he responded, and the guard did as ordered.

Where did that voice come from?, the young Jarl thought.

He sat on awhile, practically waiting for an answer but then he just sighed and went to a big long table and a bench and sat down, and started enjoying some mead and cheese.

"You know, you should consider to drop the mead, it's bad for an up and coming leader to be drunk half the time, plus you should also eat more veggies like lettuce, cheese and meat can't be the only good thing for you can it? I can definitely tell you that," there came that same deep voice again in Brynjar's mind, causing him to spit his mead out 40 feet in the air, single handedly hitting a castle maid comically causing her to scream in terror.

I hope I'm crazy, or that this is a Daedra and they will tell me soon, he thought in stress.

"All in good time," that last thought from the deep, rich voice sent his nerves off and he just drank some more mead.

Brynjar sighed, he felt like he was really getting old, and pretty soon if he could learn the way of the voice, he'd be in a fitting position to be a greybeard.

…

Imperial Camp, Fort Hraggstad, Haafingar Region.

….

Legate Glacies was just about done checking his men's progress on building an entrenchment around their camp of wooden spikes and big piles of protective dirt walls. He was marking everything off in a list and was getting frustrated that his expectations of the soldier's time did not meet their own schedule.

Running over to an Imperial mage, he asked him to the side and poked him on the breastplate before saying, "Is there anyway, that you can build ice walls around the dirt and spiked entrenchments?" The Legate quipped, "It is cold enough outside for the ice to remain solid and hard."

The mage looked concerned, "I would sir, but, isn't that not practical?" he argued, "It would just give our positions away with the magicka bursts and shining ice in a field of dirty snow."

The Legate conceded and waved the mage off, he finally was able to go inside the fort to write down their progress in setting up operations, and send it to the emperor himself by a messenger bird they had trained recently. These birds were delightful; they rode much faster than horse or land messengers.

…...

A guard stood watch, walking back and forth upon the big wall of Fort Hraggstad, keeping a vigilant eye, for any enemy recon or locals who may get them into hot water.

The man saw shuffling of snow in a tree far ahead and birds scattering and so taking hold of his personal pocket telescope, he looked to the area just in time to see an arrow flying at high speeds crashing into his own telescope, knocking him down, and stabbing him in the eye in the process.

The guard let out a high wail in pain, "AHHHGHHHHHHH!" before slumping down on the ice cold stone ground dead, his blood and brain particles mixing with the crystal white snow.

The painful yell alerted everyone into action, fortifying and closing the walls, all mages and archers taking aim and place at the wall, while Imperial foot soldiers wielding swords, axes, and war hammers were all stationed down at the sides of the gate, waiting to see if they needed to fight an enemy.

Before anyone could alert the Legate, and his officers inside the fort of a man down and possible enemies outside, the soldiers outside heard something almost like… Like a shout!

"It can't be…" mumbled the mage commander, as the soldiers on the wall saw a huge blue aura heading straight for the front of the fort. A few smart archers and mages tried jumping down with the soldiers to take cover, but to no avail.

The aura hit the wall, causing the front gate and stone arch entrance and surrounding wall to collapse. Stone, rubble and wood splinters flying at the soldiers inside.

Several minutes had passed after the rubble and dirt was finally receded from the air, and Field Commander Glacies was outside trying to help pick up his soldiers scattered about.

They all stopped dead in their tracks though, knowing it was too late when they heard booming Nord war cries. "FOR SKYRIM!" they heard a united Nord squad bellow.

Glacies men were ill prepared, when 100 soldiers literally rushed in the fort wiping out man after man after woman, leaving corpses on the ground everywhere.

There was no major fight, this wasn't even counted as a fight; It was a massacre.

Swords, Axes slashed into men, causing them to bleed out or get wounds and die. Hammers smashed into men's faces causing their whole face to break with the sound of loud crunches.

Glacies and a woman Legate with a few horses and men left out the back and escaped the slaughter.

"What are we going to do!?" Shouted the woman as her, Glacies, and 6 other men rode off on horses towards the Cyrodill borders.

"Simple Legate Flavia, We're going back to the capital and telling the Emperor and his family what happened here!" as he said that, he whistled, calling a messenger bird down.

"Sparrow, send this paper to the other camps we have in the hold immediately!" with that, the bird left for the Imperial camps scattered on skyrim soil with a small paper tied to its feet.

…..

Desert in Hammerfell

….

Atooluk and his own personal squad of 50 men were doing a daily exercise drill under the hot heat of Hammerfell sunlight.

"C'mon ladies, pick up the pace!"Atooluk shouted grinning. He loved torturing others!

As they were exercising with spars, running, and push ups in sink easy sand, Atooluk noticed a structure in the desert.

"Janisarus, Get me my Telescope." He ordered his servant grimly, "Right away sir!" the servant gave back, grabbing his telescope from his tent and giving it to the bald tattooed man.

Looking through the telescope in the structural direction, Atooluks eyes widened in shock and a little fear. Causing all of his men to stop, dead in their own tracks, it was a rare sight.

Atooluk didn't always- Never had shown fear in front of them. What happened to their powerful bloodlust and maniacal leader they loved?

"Look in the telescope where I just did Janisarus," the brash commander ordered.

The servants eyes widened and he went to do what Atooluk had wanted, he ordered the men to go get battle ready, that training was over and to go bring more reinforcements back.

…

About half an hour passed.

As an equipped army of twenty men came up to Atooluk. Twenty tall Thalmor elves in desert gear with swords drawn.

Atooluk was sharpening his nails with a scimitar and looked at the Thalmor indifferently.

"Atooluk Rashid, Prince and Heir to Hammerfell, Filthy Redguard with a bounty of over 20,000 gold pieces in the region of Valenwood, and over 60,000 gold pieces in Summerset Isles. You have committed crimes against elf kind, what say you in your defense."

Atooluk continued to look non-chalant as he spoke up, "One my little elf bitch, this is Hammerfell, and not a shitty elf region," the man heinously insult and then continued, "And two my little elf, you are all outmatched," he stated while grinning.

The whole elf troupe looked around and at the short man with confusion, finally hearing their commander start to laugh at that remark they all loosened up.

After he finished laughing for a good minute, he bellowed, "So I guess we are, against the oh mighty killer of elves."

The commander gave his men a signal to surround him and attack all at once. Twenty Elves charged at him with swords while the elf commander, and two of his officers stayed back to watch.

Even before the fight, the commander had his doubts; Atooluk was known to be great under pressure. The fight went exactly that way unfortunately.

As soon as the first man threw his sword to match Atooluk who had previously pulled out both his scimitars, was easily blocked by one scimitar as the other curved sword chopped the grunts head off.

This sent a streak of Anger, Shock, and Fear into the Elven soldiers; this sent them to surround him.

"CHARGE MEN!" yelled a now enraged Commander.

They sent off into a battle cry as five men at a time ran to him, swinging their swords wildly. After a while Atooluk had easily wiped out all the remaining 19 Elven men. (Atooluk is the Redguard prince; he would be specially trained, even above most elf men)

"Anyone else?" Atooluk inquired smiling at the dead elves.

"Your. Mine" the pissed off leader spat out slowly through his gritted teeth.

Atooluk made a come at me motion with his right arm, readying both scimitars.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH" roared the tall elf as he charged at the short bald man with a dwemer axe with strange lights on the handle and long blade tip of the big weapon.

Hmm those lights are odd, he thought to himself while charging with his scimitars protecting his middle. Finally they both skidded to each other on the desert sand and swung their weapons, clanging into each other.

Though something wasn't right… There was no clang sound, no metal clashing. There was something along the lines of metal breaking. The axe had literally sliced through the twin swords like butter!

Atooluk in the meantime in his state of shock at his swords being murdered, had received a big slash across his chest from the strange axe.

Atooluk had jumped over 20 feet away, and stood in shock, looking at his old sword handles in his hand, and his big wound.

The Elf noticed and started chuckling loudly. "HAHAHAHA, I GUESS YOU AREN'T SO POWERFUL HUH, ELF KILLER?" The tough elf shouted.

Atooluk deadpanned at him. "What's your name Elf?" The prince managed to ask.

The commander was baffled for a minute, "Why do you wish to know?" he asked back.

"I wish to know the name of the impressive person I am about to kill" Atooluk gritted out. He hated being made a fool of like this. "By the way," he added in "what are those glowing lights on your war axe, and how did you break my swords?"

The elf raised his eyebrows at that last part; "Well" he began with slowly, "My name is Commander Edirune, and these lights? They are not magicka," the elf chuckled after giving away that important detail.

Indeed, Atooluks eyes shot open at this, his swords were forged over 500 years ago by a great ancestor of his. They had a Daedric (Demon) enchantment, how could anything break them? This is not good, he finally decided to himself silently.

"May I ask what they are?" The dark prince questioned.

The Elf chuckled again, "I don't see why not, you shall die soon," the Redguard just spat at him.

"This my stupid human," the green skinned man continued, "Is not powered by pure elf magicka, or even your weak human magicka," he explained in his arrogance, "It is only pure technology and elf achievement. I do believe we have a Commander Jalaith to thank for this technology, delving down into dwemer ruins right into Skyrim, and Cyrodill."

Atooluk tensed up a bit more than he already was, causing his once almost healed slash across the chest to start bleeding again. "So, you were delving down into dwemer ruins on the borders of skyrim when the peace conference happened, and im guessing you disguised yourselves as soldiers, refugees and the like?" The prince suggested causing the elf to clap.

"Very intelligent, yes we did commit the exploring like that, you were all so busy, all the elf volunteers and explorers had to do was to conquer their way into the ruins and we stole some good treasure and some good technology. With it, you humans will be made slaves!" he yelled, before charging at him with the glowing axe.

Atooluk freaked out, he did not have any other weapons than his swords. A stupid thing to do, he admitted to himself.

He was a goner, when suddenly a big sword almost as tall as a human stopped the axe right where it was.

…..

Wielding it was a big dark man with tattoos of war and weapons all over his body, a chest plate on, and chain mail covering his lower half, he wore no shoes, and had piercing all over. His greatest feature was the big black afro sitting on top of his head.

"Dad…" was all Atooluk could mutter. "Well, well, well, Emperor Abjeed Rashid, come to die with your son?" he jeered at the king, "Oh my, your saving the trouble of Hammerfell for the Thalmor military, we will just kill the royal line first and then the rest of your people!" he shouted before trying to jab his axe at the king., only for it to be deflected again.

"Impertinent Elf dog," The king muttered before adding in, "Onsi (Boneshaver, also known to help humanity bring knives into swords.) Save us in battle." before entering into combat mode with the Elf camp leader, leaving his prince of a son to be stricken by awe.

Soon, 50 city guards came running to help the King and Prince. "Sire!" Janisarus shouted, glad that his most important person was alive.

"Janisarus my friend!" Atooluk put his arm around him, "My dad has this." Janisarus just nodded.

The King and Elf were going against each other head on. The speed was incredible for just two men, leaving everyone wondering if these were the fastest men in the world.

They couldn't see the actions of the swords being thrown; they could only see the lightning the swords clanging together made and heard the metal clash.

The elf was losing his patience, "BY THE NINE DIVINES, why is your sword not broken?! This axe destroyed your son's twin scimitars with Daedra enchantment, but I can not destroy that huge sword!?" the Commander had to admit, this sword was huge, a big version of the scimitar, but more impressive.

The king calmly chuckled, "My friend, this is the Saif Al Jabbar (The Sword of the Giant), and there is no way even your powerful technology can defeat this good sword,"

The Elf thought a moment and finally started to speak, "Well, my camp has already packed up out there and left," he pointed to where a camp used to be.

FOR THE LOVE OF OBLIVION, thought Atooluk.

"Oh well," the King replied, "I will enjoy putting you on my wall," this made the Redguard all shutter. The old man was worse than his son sometimes.

The Elf himself was caught off by this, thinking he could just walk away, but he got ready for another confrontation.

The king just stood there, until pacing off in a head start run at the tall Thalmor soldier.

The dust was blown up as they began fighting, that damn dust, always blowing up in the air.

Sword clanging went on for a little longer, until the dark man threw a fist at the elves face, but the elf Edirune was ready, and he dodged the big fist aiming for his face, and lower cut the royals legs with his feet, knocking him down, but he got up as soon as the elf did.

The Elf made another chop with his Axe, but he was blocked by the mighty sword once again, "Oh did I mention this also has an enchantment?" the king added, the elf just shook his head, "Yeah, this was enchanted by none other than, Sheogorath, 20 years ago," and with that the king grinned evilly, as he threw his big sword at the commander, but was blocked by the axe.

Suddenly, everything stopped, the soldiers gathered around the fight were confused, and Atooluks eyes widened, as did his fathers.

When the Redguard royal was not looking, the Elf stuck a dagger with a free hand into the mans stomach area.

Grinning, the elf stated "I win," The king fell on the ground with his hands to his stomach.

"How… How did you—" The king started, but the elf finished for him, "The dagger was tipped with wood elf poison, you'll be dead within ten minutes, so even if I don't get the pleasure of blading you, you will perish." The Thalmor commander spoke with glee.

"Errrr…" the old Redguard pronounced as he pulled the dagger out of his stomach, grabbed his sword, and started after the Elf.

He struggled to stand up, the poison was spreading from his stomach to his blood, to his muscles, to his heart and to his brain.

But he kept going, he could feel death coming at him like the jaws of a Khajiit biting your hand and not letting go, it felt gruesome but he felt testosterone and power, he wanted to do one good deed before his death, and he knew his son would pass on his legacy to the kingdom.

Edirune was in shock and started backing away, the Redguard soldiers all wanted to stop their King, they could see the pain in his face, and they could hear his guts sloshing out of his stomach and onto the sand as he ran at the Elf.

But the one who stopped the rest of the Redguard was his son, Atooluk just said, "No" and raised his hand up in a kind of way of saying, -Thanks, I salute you-.

The rest of the Redguard did the same salute, as Abjeed made his way to the enemy, that same person saw behind the older man, his army, his friends and his son, all saluting him and seeing their confidence, made the green man shiver in fear. He literally couldn't move.

"But, he will let himself die! We must stop him, he needs medical attention now if he is to survive at all!" one guy shouted, but that made Atooluk stop in his tracks and practically use a thu'um like voice, "AND DON'T YOU THINK HE KNOWS THAT?!' shouted Atooluk with Pride, Anger, and Fear.

He would miss his dad, but the man chose to die a warrior's death, the good way. So he had no way of stopping the old fool of a man from filling his own destiny.

….

NO, NO, NO, he thought that he would never fear a Redguard. Edirune went to grab his sword but was too late.

A few seconds later, all but a head was flying through the air, finally hitting the sand in a final "Thud".

The field was quiet, a few guards were ordered to take the body back to the city, to be used as an experiment as well as any of the strange weapons, potions and files he had on him.

Most of the guards were ordered back to the city then, except a few guards and officers to scavenge the broken up elf camp, and only four guards were left with Janisarus, Atooluk and some of his father's government officers.

They all gathered around him as he was breathing his final breaths. Atooluk got to him first, "Father," he whispered, feeling the mans beard and hair. Abjeed just laughed, causing him to cough up blood.

"Listen son, War is in your blood," Atooluk nodded agreeing, "but have compassion, respect all, build a continent of peace for all, even elves, elf killer."

Those were Abjeed's final words, he said how war was in the young mans blood and his words were filled with confidence, compassion and respect like he was a messiah and peace for all, even elves you elf killer, the last part was so solemn like he was ashamed the way things were run in the world, but those were his last words, before he croaked on his own blood and closed his eyes, for the final time.

Atooluk gave a loud sigh, and went into a praying position. It's a good thing they his lowers could never read his mind, he was praying to Stendarr, Stendarr of all deities.

This was not a Yokuda religion as his fellow Redguard were, this was an imperial deity, but nonetheless, Stendarr was known to be the god of Mercy and Justice, and Justice is what he needed right about now.

For the first time ever, they saw Atooluks shadowy figure… Was he crying?

It shocked all the men, they had been learning a lot about him, and seeing that he had compassion with everything he did, he had even apologized to a random princess recently and had given to the poor.

But these were tears, he was crying, the men around him as well, joined him, breaking into tears for their fallen leader.

Their compass in life that kept them moving forward had stopped working.

But he was mourning, for his father yes, but he never mourned anything, and he wasn't loud either. He just heaved for himself, for his losses, for Tamriel and its seemingly impossible peace.

….

This is where I will stop. Tell me how I did!

The Redguard thing was complicated, these are like eastern, warriors, only caring about war and glory, but throwing in emotion, made it complicated and hopefully it speaks to someone.

Never be afraid to go after peace even facing death.

Anyone know who was talking to Brynjar? We'll get to more of him later, and the voice will take a long time to get to introduce itself who it is im sure, but remember that voice in his head is important and will help him later on with advice.

And ooooppppssss….

More Imperial and Nord trouble, and long after the Prophecy of the Dragon born?

Thanks for reading again!