The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion

By: Jason Tandro

Chapter I: Reign of the Septims

Frostcrag Spire…

23 Frost Fall, 4E21

Aywin sat in her favorite chair. Her blue velvet dress meshed perfectly with the cushions of the chair, and one might mistake her for merely another beautiful piece of artwork in the perfectly decorated room.

Her guests, a traveling merchant group, had begged her entrance to escape the terrible snowstorm that had blown in from Skyrim. They were a shabby lot, a Nord, a Bosmer and a particularly foul-tempered Khajitt who only stopped fuming after being offered a glass of Tamika Vintage 415.

Aywin herself was Altmer, or as the Nord insisted on calling her, "High Elf". Aywin did not much like this term: not only because of its inaccuracy, but because of the arrogant sound to it. "High Elf" was just another term that was used to further separate the already tense relationships between the races, and she abhorred it, but understanding the common usage of it, did not mention this to the Nord.

After she had offered the men dinner she set herself back in this chair and resumed looking over the old book which she had been reading. This caught the attention of the Bosmer, who asked:

"What are you reading, Madam?"

Aywin smiled. "This? This is a tale from the final days of the Third Era."

The young men looked at each other. Had they not heard the story?

"Surely you have heard of the Oblivion Crisis?" Aywin asks.

"Yes, but so much of what you hear cannot be trusted," the Khajitt says, shaking his head. "Such things just do not happen."

"Ah," Aywin smiles. "Ordinarily they do not. But those ruins you see all around Cyrodiil were not built by man. The statue of the avatar of Akatosh in the Imperial City was not sculpted. The Order we have in the fourth era did not come about artificially."

"What we know is that Emperor Uriel Septim the VII died, leaving no heir. An enlightened rule began with the Elder Council now acting as a Republic. Beyond that-" But the Bosmer was cut off.

"Fairy Tales?" Aywin asks smiling. "I was there, many years ago at the end. I saw it with my own eyes. As you have nowhere else to go, perhaps you would like to hear?"

The Bosmer and Nord nodded, and the Khajitt found his seat again.

"There were many heroes in that time. Many people willing to do what was right, and what needed to be done. As I recall there were nine of them," Aywin smiled. "And one of them would… or should have been… remembered for all time as the greatest hero in all of Tamriel."

Imperial City Dungeon…

27 Last Seed, 3E433

Light creeps into the prison cell, and Ignin's eyes slowly opened. His initial thoughts were those of panic. He knew nothing of his surroundings. And as time granted he slowly grew more concerned as he realized that he knew nothing of himself either. His head ached and he looked near his bedroll and saw the source of his confusion. A decent sized stone had fallen as he slept and, based on the bump on his forehead, it must have hit him.

He tried to remember anything. He knew his name, Ignin. He knew that this must be the dungeon in the Imperial Palace, but how he knew that was a mystery to him. As he tried to recall more, he heard a sharp hiss from a man in the opposite cell.

"Rise and shine, Imperial," the man called.

The man was Valen Dreth, a Dark Elf who had gotten himself into some considerable trouble, it had seemed, and whose only cling to sanity was thrown away many years ago. He spent his time mocking his fellow prisoners, and Ignin was no exception. Ignin had gathered something interesting from this; he knew that he was an Imperial.

"How is it, eh?" Valen laughed. "Can't remember a thing, eh? Not even that you're about to be executed, eh?"

Ignin rushed to the bars to get a look at his tormentor. Valen stood his ground, reveling in his own cruelty.

"That's right, my friend. You're going to die here," Valen continued to laugh, but suddenly stopped as he heard a commotion upstairs. Ignin heard it too. There was a loud crash and the sound of many swords and spears clashing. The battle ended and suddenly footsteps began moving down the stairs into the dungeon.

"Oh listen. The guards are coming. For you, hehehehehehe," Valen laughed monstrously and tucked himself away in a corner of his cell.

Ignin listened, and could make out the faint conversation of the approaching soldiers.

"My sons… they are dead," an old man cried.

"We don't yet know that, sire," said a woman's voice.

"No, I know it in my heart. They are dead," the old man continued.

"How did assassin's get inside the palace walls?" asked another man.

"They must have had somebody working on the inside," another replied.

"We must get help to others upstairs," the old man said in an authoritative voice.

The woman declined this order. "They can handle themselves. My job right now is to get you to safety."

The group rounded the corner and was now in sight of Ignin. The old man was dressed in a long ornamental robe and had short brown hair, which was graying at the ends. He was escorted by two men and a woman, who all wore battle armor of incredible make. They carried Akaviri Katanas, which Ignin recognized as a symbol of the Imperial bodyguards, the Blades. Minor details were coming back, but not everything. Ignin feared it would be a long time before he remembered anything.

The woman looked at him and raised her katana to the bars. "What's this prisoner doing here? This cell is supposed to be off-limits!"

"Usual mix-up with the Watch… I," one of the guards tried to explain but the woman cut him off.

"Never mind that now, there's no time. Stand back prisoner. We won't hesitate to kill you if you get in our way," the woman ordered. Ignin was too stunned and confused to do anything except obey her orders. He moved back into the corner where a table and stool were. He sat in the stool obediently and kept his hands on the table as a sign of submission.

The larger guard opened the cell door with a key. He seemed empathetic to Ignin's position and reassured him. "Just stay there and you won't get hurt."

The group entered the cell and the woman issued another order. "Lock it behind us. It will at least buy us some time."

As the old man passed by Ignin he let out a gasp. The guards faced Ignin with their katanas drawn, but the old man put his hands in front of them. He walked over to Ignin, which made the woman highly uncomfortable.

"I've seen you before," he muttered.

"Excuse me?" Ignin asked.

"You were the one I saw in my dream. Then the signs were right. This is the day," the man spoke in a weak, tired voice. "Gods give me strength."

"I beg your pardon," Ignin said. "But who are you?"

The guards let out a gasp of indignation, but the old man smiled. "I am Emperor Uriel Septim VII. The Emperor of Tamriel, chosen by the Nine to rule." His words became more philosophical. "Do you believe in fate?"

Ignin shook his head. "Men forge their own destinies. Fate is a myth created by those who refuse to take responsibilities for their own actions."

Emperor Septim laughed, and the larger guard let out a light chuckle, which stopped when the woman gave him a sharp look. The woman opened a secret door in the northeastern corner, which was disguised to look like the face of the wall. The wall sunk into the ground, revealing a massive cavern system.

"Better not close this one. There's no way to open it from the other side," she then looked at the Ignin. Ignin dodged her gaze and returned to the Emperor.

"What was I imprisoned for?" Ignin demanded.

The Emperor waved his hand. "It doesn't matter. That is not what you will be remembered for. I would say it was Fate that brought you to this cell that we might meet, but you clearly wouldn't accept that as an answer. But since you believe in forging your own destiny, you should come with us. Or do you intend to serve a sentence for a crime that you don't even know that you committed?"

Ignin shook his head. He didn't know what was going on, but he would not be staying here, that was for sure.

"Looks like this is your lucky day, prisoner," said the large man. "Just stay out of our way."

"You are?" Ignin asked.

"We are the Blades. I am Baurus. That," Baurus pointed at the smaller guard. "Is Glenroy. And this is our Captain," Baurus moved aside and let the Captain decide whether or not to reveal her name.

She grudgingly walked up to Ignin and gave a polite nod. "Captain Renault of the Blades. If the Emperor wills it, we are at your service as well."

The entourage made their way into the caverns. Ignin decided it would be best to stay next to the Emperor and the Blades took the lead, with Baurus staying in the rear. It was clear the Baurus, while he didn't trust Ignin, was the most willing to give him a chance. He even handed him a torch.

"Here," he said. "You may as well make yourself useful."

The caverns quickly turned into a massive underground building, which seemed to be based in Ayleid design. White marble structures with long passages that seemed to stretch on for miles. They came across one very narrow passage and Renault ordered the party to halt.

"The air doesn't feel right," she said. "Weapons out."

Ignin had nothing to use as a weapon, but he held out his torch like a shield. Suddenly, several robed men in bright red garments jumped down from an overhanging ledge. They attacked so suddenly that Captain Renault had barely enough time to raise her sword.

It was over in an instant. Renault's blade was sticking through the back of her attacker.

"Well done, Captain!" Baurus shouted. The Captain did not respond and neither she nor her attacker seemed to move.

Glenroy shouted. "Captain!"

Baurus, Ignin and the Emperor noticed what caught Glenroy's attention. Renault had a similar wound to her attacker. In that moment, both of them fell to the ground. In a frenzied rage, Glenroy, Baurus and the Emperor rushed at the others and cut them down in brutal haste while Ignin rushed over to Renault.

He tried to help her, but it was too late. She was dead the moment the blade had cut her. He pushed off the attacker and pulled the blade out of her chest. The battle raged on as more of the red-garbed assassins seemed to pour out of the walls. Baurus, Glenroy and the Emperor moved to the other side of a steel grate and locked it behind them.

"Wait!" Ignin shouted. But it was no use. They were already gone and the assassins were following them, taking side passages in an attempt to reach them.

Ignin did not know what to do. He cleaned off Renault's katana and picked it up.

"Forgive me, but I need a weapon," Ignin said as he moved to take his chance with one of the side passages.

Bruma Mage's Guild…

27 Last Seed, 3E433

Alessia sat nervously, tapping her fingers together. Her short blonde hair was perfect, save a small bead of sweat running down the side. The woman in front of her, Jeanne Frasoric, was a woman Alessia had known almost all her life.

Here she sat, a young Breton girl of barely 18, and today was the most important day of her life. The day she would either be accepted, or declined, entrance to the prestigious Mage's Guild.

Having spent most of her life in Bruma, in a quaint little cabin that had belonged to her parents, she had gotten to know Jeanne quite well. And Jeanne had known her from infancy.

The offspring of a Nord father and Breton mother made her quite an "odd mix" as Jeanne put it. She had the prodigious magical leanings of a Breton and the tough resolve of a Nord. These twin virtues made her a "worthy candidate". But it all came down to this moment. Jeanne liked her, certainly, but she was also bound by the code of the Mage's Guild.

"You are a highly qualified candidate," Jeanne explained. "You have done magic in your childhood that some of our associates are just learning. You are well balanced in the colleges, not really favoring one over another. Yes, Alessia, you are a very good candidate."

Alessia's heart quickened. There seemed to be an impending "but", and Alessia was waiting for it to fall.

"However you must realize that this is a much more complicated process than you might think. I can make you an Associate of the Mage's Guild and I do so with no hesitation whatsoever. But to become a true member of the guild you need recommendations from every Guild Hall in Cyrodiil. Bruma, Chorrol, Cheydinhal, Leyawin, Bravil, Skingrad, Kvatch and Anvil. It is no easy pilgrimage," Jeanne explained.

"I am ready for it," Alessia nodded fervently.

"Very well then. I hereby make you an Associate of the Mage's Guild," Jeanne said, handing Alessia a small book entitled Mage's Guild Charter. "Now as for your… recommendation. Your friend J'skar has gone missing."

"Missing?" Alessia asked, disturbed.

"Oh I'm sure he's around her somewhere. Volanaro just says that a spell backfired, but if anybody from the Council were to show up here it would look very bad for me. So please, can you go talk to Volanaro and see what you can do?" Jeanne sounded almost piteous the way she was pleading, and Alessia was not about to refuse a request after what Jeanne had done for her.

Alessia walked out of her office and down two flights of stairs to the living quarters. The second she walked in she heard the sound of two men laughing hysterically. As she opened the door, she only saw one: Volanaro.

"Alessia!" Volanaro smiled giving his old friend a big hug. "I heard that you're in the guild now! Congratulations!"

"Well apparently I have to go get recommendations-"

"Oh that's not as big a deal as Jeanne makes it. The Imperium is safe enough. Tch," Volanaro scoffed. "I tell you, with all due respect to our wonderful leader, she couldn't cast her way out of a paper sack."

"She wants me to find out what happened to J'skar. Apparently a spell backfired?" Alessia asked, a sly look on her face.

Volanaro scratched the back of his head and looked away. "Well…"

And in an instant he raised his hands over the air in front of him and the tall Khajitt J'skar appeared right before Alessia's eyes.

"I hear you've been looking for me!" J'skar laughed. Alessia rolled her eyes. "Oh please don't be mad. It was only a bit of fun. "

"How are you two going to pass the time when I'm away at University?" Alessia sighed lovingly.

"I was thinking about stealing Jeanne's manual of spell craft. This prank was getting boring anyways," Volanaro laughed.

Alessia hugged Volanaro and J'skar. "Take care of yourselves."

Chorrol, The Grey Mare…

27 Last Seed 3E433

Davion took a large gulp from a pewter tankard. Beside him sat his Dunmer friend Modryn Oreyn. Along the row at the small bar was Viranus Donton and a few more members of the Chorrol chapter of the Fighter's Guild.

"I can't believe he's dead," Viranus sighed, refusing to let the tear hanging on the edge of his face tip forward into the glass he was holding.

"Vitellus was a good man," Modryn said. "One of the best warriors I ever had the privilege to work with."

Davion had known him too. The two of them had gone way back. He had moved to Chorrol back in 427 and Vitellus was the first man he met. They shared a pint at this very bar. Vitellus told him all about Chorrol and Davion told Vitellus all about the Imperial City. Redguards, he had told Vitellus, were almost expected to join the army because of their natural skill with weapons. And that's when Vitellus had mentioned the Fighter's Guild.

But the career never appealed to Davion, and seemed to appeal to him even less the more the evening passed. But the two remained friends throughout the six years that he'd been here. And now he was dead.

The night passed with the men all making elaborate toasts to Vitellus's memory. Oreyn and an Orc began to sing loudly (and horribly off-key on the part of the Orc) lines from A Less Rude Song:

It's an invention of bards

That Bretons and Redguards

And at this Modryn felt the need to point at Davion.

Have more than some staid fun

And suffer deviant fornication.

For the most of madness, not the least,

The wise debaucher heads out east.

Where your once steely reserve is now merely tinned,

You'll find it all in Morrowind.

As the song continued, Viranus succumbed to his tears and excused himself to the back. A man Davion only knew as Eduard followed him. Modyrn and the Orc finished the song in grand fashion

If you find yourself with unkind kinship with your kin

You'll find it all in Morrowind!

The bar applauded and Modryn took a seat next to Davion.

"I realize this may be a poor time to bring this up, but the raid cost us fifteen good men. Vitellus was one of them. We need somebody now more than ever who can handle a blade," Modryn began.

"I'm a farmer," Davion chuckled, though he did not find the situation amusing at all. "If there's a line of work in the Fighter's Guild for a man with a pitchfork than I'll gladly take a contract. Otherwise I'm not interested."

"Please, Davion. I've seen you practice. You came here because your father passed on and left you Arborwatch. That is right next to the Fighter's Guild. Do you think I haven't seen you practicing outback every night just after sunset. You know your way around a claymore, better than some… better than many of the men I've met," Modryn said.

Davion shrugged. "An old man can dream, can't he?"

"You don't have to dream. Please. I don't mean to be insensitive but I know that Vitellus wanted you to join more than anything. The pay is good. And upkeep on Arborwatch must be very expensive," Modryn said.

Davion did not much like being told about his financial situation at a time like this, but Modryn had a point. And besides, perhaps if Davion had been there with him, Vitellus may not have…

"Fine," Davion said, standing up and leaving. "You're paying for my tab though."

Modryn chuckled warmly and waved farewell to Davion.

Imperial City Waterfront…

27 Last Seed 3E433

News of the attack on the Emperor and his sons had not yet reached the ears of the people down on the waterfront. It was a peaceful, but hot, summer day with the poor citizens going about their day-to-day routines; blissfully ignorant of this tragic news.

In particular the Khajitt woman R'darra sat on the docks trying to tempt a cool breeze. She would go swimming, but her fur would hate her for it.

"You should quit complaining," one of her beggar friends said, walking behind her. "In Elsywer, the temperatures get much hotter than this."

"I know," R'darra sighed. Her flax tunic was itching her, her eyes were watering from the suppressive humidity, but other than that, things were going good so far today.

Suddenly two guardsmen walked up to her. Behind them was a tall man with golden blonde hair wearing a bright set of steel armor.

"The prey approaches," R'darra hissed.

"Ah," the beggar said, clicking his fangs in a sort of laugh. "The Good Captain, Hieronymus Lex. To what do we owe this most esteemed honor?"

"That's enough from you, cat," Lex cursed. "You have nothing we want anyways."

"There were three wasted words in that sentence," the beggar snorted. "I have nothing. You took my home away, every Septim that I gather you take in 'taxes'. Were it not for some kind people I would be dead by now."

Lex smirked cruelly. "Are you referring to the Gray Fox?"

The beggar rolled his eyes. "But Captain, such things don't exist. You're a little old to be believing in fairy tales."

"I think you're right," Lex nodded. "I'll have to bury this fairy tale for good." And with that, Lex turned to R'darra. "As it happens I would like a word with you."

"Of course it does," R'darra hissed. "What is it?"

"We got word from Palonirya in the Market District that you may have run off with some of her jewelry," Lex said.

"That sounds like an accusation," R'darra grinned maliciously. "Unfortunately as you can see I am as bare as my friend here."

"So you have already fenced the stolen merchandise, don't play dumb with me," Lex cursed. "Mark my words, R'darra, you will slip one of these days and I will catch you at it. And then I will make sure you spend the rest of the days in the Imperial Prison!"

"Please throw me in there now. Food, water, a roof over my head and I'm certain it's cooler in there too," R'darra cackled. "I wish I had stolen that poor woman's jewels just so you'd have an excuse."

Lex scowled and then turned on the spot, his two soldiers marching behind him back towards the city proper.

"So did you steal from Palonirya?" The beggar asked.

R'darra reached down into the water beside her and tugged on a string. Within moments a small bag broke the surface. R'darra set the bag on the dock and opened it, revealing two silver necklaces and a fat ruby ring.

"Not bad, huh? The Gray Fox himself couldn't do better… assuming he existed," R'darra sighed.

The beggar smiled.

"What?" R'darra asked.

"Come to the Garden of Dareloth tonight at midnight."

Leyawin County Jail…

27 Last Seed 3E433

Azeg-Rael sat against the wall, contemplating his future. For an Argonian, there was no hope of leaving the Leyawin jail alive. The Countess had always had a terrible prejudice, believing that the noble race of the Black Marsh were nothing more than common thugs.

There was a bitter irony in Azeg-Rael contributing to this stereotype, but he would atone for the crime to his society at a later time. Besides, the man who he killed had deserved to die.

He remembered it. The time he'd spent as a hatchling, playing in the streets of Leyawin. His father and mother owned the now abandoned house in the middle of town. And he was there. The mean Breton who always kept harassing them for money.

With age, he gained perspective. In his formative, young adult years, his family was forced to leave Leyawin and move to Bravil by this man and the Countess. The Count of Bravil welcomed them with open arms. This was back when he was a respected man, and a powerful tournament swordsman; before he let himself sink into a drunken stupor.

When he was an adult he was told by his mother why that had been forced to leave Leyawin. This man was a moneylender. He had lent funds to his parents to purchase that house in Leyawin; no small feat at 7,000 septims. But then after his father paid back the last bit of interest, this man reported his father and mother to the Countess.

He said the house was rightfully his! And the deed was most certainly in his name; Azeg-Rael's father agreeing to this as terms of collateral. Azeg-Rael could not understand why the man had done it. His mother told him that it was simple. The man made his money that way, preying on Argonians whom the Countess would instantly side against.

After his mother was infected with Serpiginous Dementia, Azeg-Rael knew her time was almost up. When the day finally came, he laid her to rest and swore that he would avenge her and his father.

And so he traveled back to County Leyawin, broke down the door of his old house and before the now old man knew what was happening, Azeg-Rael thrust a steel dagger into his chest.

The guard were there within seconds. Azeg-Rael didn't care. He had done what he'd come to do. He didn't even resist arrest. When the Countess told him that the fine for murder was 15,000 septims (quite a larger sum than she would put before a fellow Imperial) Azeg-Rael laughed and said he'd much prefer the cell.

She was only too happy to oblige. And so now here he sat, waiting for death to come.

Suddenly the air around him grew cold and he felt a shadow approach. He turned to his cell door and saw nothing. He moved away from the door and began to look around his cell. He was certain somebody was here.

He heard the unmistakable sound of a pick being jammed in a lock. The tumblers fell and the door opened. Azeg-Rael raised his fists and suddenly a man in a black robe and hood appeared from thin air in front of him.

"You sleep rather soundly for a murderer," the man smiled. "That is good. You will need a clear conscience for what I am about to propose."

Azeg-Rael did not lower his fists. "Explain yourself. Now."

"In time, child," the man nodded. "All in good time. First, an introduction. My name is Lucien Lachance, Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood. And you… you are a cold-blooded killer. Capable of taking life without mercy or remorse. The Night Mother has been watching, and she is most impressed. And so I come to you with an offer to join our rather unique family."

Lucien shut the cell door quickly and disappeared. A guard came round the corner and looked through the bars at Azeg-Rael.

"Dinner, maggot." He said, shoving a small tin with a half-loaf of bread through the door. And without another word he walked down the stone corridors and was gone.

Lucien reappeared in front of Azeg-Rael nodding in an all-knowing way. Azeg-Rael was not sure what to make of this man, but if it meant a way out, he was prepared to listen to whatever he had to say.

"Please continue, Mr. Lachance," Azeg-Rael said.

"Ah. I find your etiquette refreshing. On the road north of here, halfway between the Imperial City and Bravil you will find the Inn of Ill Omen. Inside is a man named Rufio. Kill him, and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete. Now I present you with a gift."

Lucien pulled out a small black dagger, the edges lightly touched with gold. It was a very ornate piece of work and had an almost ceremonial feel to it.

"It is a virgin blade, and it thirsts for blood," Lucien said. "Take this Blade of Woe and kill Rufio in the name of the Night Mother."

Azeg-Rael nodded. "Rufio will die by my hand. But how am I to get out of here?"

Suddenly there was a muffled cry from the guard who had been there a moment ago and the sound of armor hitting the floor.

"We have arranged that for you," Lucien smiled.

Leyawin County Hall…

27 Last Seed 3E433

Borin gro-Kromlock was not sure what he was doing here. He was friendly with the Count, often doing free-lance work as a bouncer during his parties, or assisting the Watch deal with drunkards at the Five Claws.

But this was something he wasn't sure how to deal with. Apparently, a fellow Orc named Mazoga had been pestering the Count, but he didn't want to send her away. He just wanted to know what she wanted.

But she refused to speak to anybody except the Count, so what good could he do? Making his way towards the foyer, he could have sworn he saw the door to the dungeons open and shut… but nobody was there. Must have been a trick of the eyes.

And standing there in the main hall was this Mazoga. At least she was the only Orc in the area. She wore a fine set of steel armor, with an iron long sword resting at her side.

"Are you Mazoga?" Borin asked.

Mazoga stared him down. "I'll only speak with the Count."

"The Count sent me," Borin responded just as adamantly.

"Hm. If the Count sent you then I guess I'll speak with you. I'll get right to it then. I need to get to Fisherman's Rock. Do you know where that is?"

Borin thought for a moment. He remembered speaking with his Argonian friend Weebum-Na about it. Weebum-Na would often hunt in that area.

"As a matter of fact I do… It's a short while north of here," Borin said.

"Then take me there!" Mazoga demanded.

"Why?" Borin asked, suspiciously.

"Listen buddy, I'm a knight okay. I've come to take care of a bandit that's hanging out at Fisherman's Rock."

"Listen lady, I've got problems of my own, okay?"

"Lady? Lady? Don't you know how to address a knight? Call me Sir Mazoga."

Borin laughed. "Sir? But you're a wo-…. Never mind. Okay fine. I'll take you down to Fisherman's Rock, Sir Mazoga."

"Good," Mazoga nodded.

Borin led the way out of the county hall and within minutes they were on the road north, parallel to the Niben Bay. The high grass and swamp lands were always hot and muggy, but especially this summer.

"So who's this bandit?" Borin asked, lifting his war-hammer in anticipation.

"A real creep named Mogens Wind-Shifter," Mazoga explained. "He usually hangs out with a posse so this might be a little tough."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Borin chuckled effortlessly swinging his hammer to knock a small tree out of their way.

Fisherman's Rock was a small camp only a few hours north of Leyawin. Mazoga and Borin hid behind a large tree to spy on the situation. There were four men, and Mazoga pointed out a large, shirtless Nord as Mogens.

"Okay listen. I'm going to speak with Mogens first. Don't attack them until we're done talking alright. No smashing, no decapitations," Mazoga instructed.

"Ah. Talking, then smashing and decapitations?" Borin chuckled.

"Well maybe," Mazoga replied, and for the first time she smiled. "You know how it goes."

The two approached the bandits. The three raised their weapons, but Mogens raised his hand ordering them to hold.

"Mogens Wind-Shifter," Mazoga said.

"That's me. What do you want?" Mogens asked.

"Just to let you know what's about to happen to you. You killed my friend. Bet you never thought I'd find you," Mazoga said.

"I don't know what you're talking about lady, I never attacked nobody," Mogens responded although this didn't sound terribly convincing.

"Don't play dumb with me. You killed Ra'Vindra, my best friend. And now I'm going to kill you," Mazoga shouted.

Mogens lifted his dagger but Mazoga was too quick, slashing his chest with her long sword before he could barely move. Borin rushed in smashing the head of a bandit who was attempting to shoot Mazoga with a bow. Mazoga spun around and kicked down a third man, knocking him to the ground and running her blade through his stomach. The fourth man fled, but slipped on a wet rock and knocked his head against a nearby tree, knocking him out cold.

"At last it's done," Mazoga sighed. "My friend, Ra'Vindra caught on to what these thugs were doing. To stop her from reporting them to the Watch, they killed her. On that day, I became a knight and swore a knight's Oath. Now that I'm done with that, I'll have to think of some other good deeds."

Borin nodded. "Glad I could help."

"You did help, and I do appreciate it," Mazoga smiled. "Come on, let's go back to Leyawin."

Aleswell Settlement…

27 Last Seed 3E433

Saryn was a quiet woman of nature. Part of this was due to her Bosmer blood; the Wood Elves had always been at peace with the world around them. But most of this was due to her lifestyle. Rather than bother finding a place to settle down, she had made the most of being a true "adventurer." Traveling all across Tamriel, doing odd jobs and sleeping at inns.

Having seen so much of the world had, she thought, made her quite jaded in its ways. However, something had happened not moments ago that she had never seen before.

She was attacked by an invisible wolf.

She felt the wolf approach her back, and turned to meet it with her bow drawn, but there had been nothing there. But she could have sworn something was there; a thought that only intensified when she heard the wolf bark rather loudly.

She put an arrow in where she'd best guessed the bark to be coming from and then as the wolf let out a death cry it appeared before her. This was strange. Animals could not use magic, and she could not imagine why any wizard would bother turning one invisible.

And now she stood in the middle of a settlement, and while she heard people going about their daily lives, she saw nobody.

"Um, hello?" She asked near a humming farm worker.

"Look, I'm busy right now. Don't bug me," the invisible man hissed.

Saryn walked away, painfully aware that this was not some hallucination or nightmare. She walked into the inn, hoping to find at least one visible person, but she was greeted with a less than gracious salutation from the invisible innkeeper.

"Oh, hello. What do you want?" The innkeeper asked.

"Pardon me," Saryn said. "I did not mean to intrude, but I was looking for a place to lodge the night and… well what has happened to you all?"

"Oh the invisibility. Sometimes we forget that we can't see each other. We've gotten rather accustomed to it, sadly," Diram groaned. "It was that damned magician Ancotar. He had always caused a bit of trouble with his magical experiments, but nothing so bad as this. Seems he recently created a highly potent spell of invisibility and we were all caught in its effect."

"So why does nobody go ask him for counter-spell?" Saryn asked.

"He's down the hill from us in Fort Caractacus and with all the invisible predators it's rather dangerous. Besides, he's such a bungler the spell probably would make our lives even worse, somehow. You're welcome to go have a chat with him if you think it will help," Diram sighed.

Saryn opened her satchel. She was dismayed to find only a few gold coins left.

"Very well, I'm on it," Saryn nodded.

She left the inn and looked out over the hill. Sure enough, she saw a large old fort not even a half-mile from the town. She ran down the hill to the fort's entrance and heard the sound of alchemical instruments bubbling.

Making her way up the central tower via stone ramparts she heard a man cry:

"Oh please not now! I don't want whatever it is you're selling!"

"Are you Ancotar?" Saryn asked, not entirely sure where she should be looking.

"Yes, I am, and I'm rather busy if you don't mind."

"I'm sorry, but I fear you may have made a mistake," Saryn explained. "I'm here because of the people of Aleswell."

"Aleswell? They kicked me out. What could they possibly want with me?" Ancotar asked more confused than annoyed now.

"Your spell of invisibility. It apparently affected them as well," Saryn replied.

"Oh it did? Goodness gracious me. I had tampered with the formula a bit, yes. Increasing the power to increase the longevity of the spell you see. It will wear off though, eventually," Ancotar nodded.

"Eventually?" Saryn asked.

"In about a year or two. Maybe a little more," Ancotar explained.

"The people of Aleswell don't want to wait that long," Saryn said. "Isn't there a counter-spell?"

Saryn could not see Ancotar, but she could tell by the sound of his voice that he was frowning.

"Hm. Yes as a matter of fact I DID create one. Stumbled across it while inventing the thing. Are you sure they don't want to stay like that? I mean I find being invisible quite refreshing. Nobody… well almost nobody bothers me. But if you are sure, just take this scroll and read it in the center of the village."

And suddenly a scroll appeared out of thin air and floated in front of Saryn.

"Um, thank you," Saryn nodded.

"Yes, yes. Sometimes the best thank you is leaving me be and telling nobody where you found me," Ancotar insisted.

Saryn bowed slightly in thanks and made her way back uphill. Arriving back in the village she looked around for the spot that would be closest to the center of town, and figured that the farm where she had been earlier should do the trick.

She read the strange foreign words from the scroll and a bright fog enveloped the town. When the fog settled, she could see everybody. And they could see each other. The townsfolk began celebrating their returned visibility and applauding Saryn.

Diram Serethi walked out of the inn with a pint of mead.

"Thank you so much, friend!" He smiled. "Here, please spend the night at my inn. You always stay free at my place."

Saryn took the pint and made her way into the inn.

Chorrol, Northern Goods and Trades…

27 Last Seed 3E433

Will was a large man. Nord by birth, merchant by choice, but large by a combination of the two. His slick tongue had made him a master negotiator and fine selection in wares from his shop in Anvil had made him a reasonably wealthy man.

He was on his yearly trip to the cities in Cyrodiil to gather goods and make trades as necessary. Always good to keep track of your competitors and make purchases to keep the money flowing. Stagnation would simply lead to decay and decline, and Will had many more years left in him.

He was greeted at the door by an enchanting young Argonian woman named Dar-Ma.

"It is good to see you," she smiled. "I love meeting new people. You must be that merchant my mother was talking about."

Will nodded. "Yes, I'm here to talk to her about her clothing line."

"She will be right with you," Dar-Ma nodded. "I have to be going. I've an errand to run down in Hackdirt. I should be back before dark though."

"Right with you" was apparently not the same phrase in Black Marsh as it was in Skyrim. It was three hours before he even saw Seed-Neeus, the proprietor, who informed him that he should go wait at the Grey Mare until she was ready for him.

He enjoyed a pint and got a chuckle out of a drunken Orc and Dunmer singing A Less Rude Song. But when three more hours had passed in this seedy pub his patience was wearing thin. He stepped out of the pub prepared to give Seed-Neeus a piece of his mind, when he saw her approaching him.

"Oh!" She gasped. "I was just about to get you. I am terribly sorry for making you wait for so long."

"That's fine," Will smiled, completely diplomatic even though he was highly annoyed. "Now let's talk about what you can ship to my store in Anvil and what you'd like from me."

A few more hours were spent in negotiation. Seed-Neeus was no pushover herself when it came to negotiation, but eventually they reached an accord and shook hands. It was now well past nightfall and the two celebrated their agreement with a nice dinner, which Seed-Neeus was gracious enough to prepare herself.

However as dinner progressed Seed-Neeus grew more and more concerned.

"Dar-Ma should have been back by now," Seed-Neeus quivered. "I'm worried about her."

"If you want I can go take a look. Hackdirt is only a short distance south of here," Will nodded.

"You would do that for me?" Seed-Neeus asked, lighting up.

"Of course. It's the least I can do for the food and drink," Will nodded. "I'll send her back home and then head on the way to the next town."

And so, entirely unwittingly, Will started his career as an adventurer.

Shrine of Azura…

27 Last Seed 3E433

Cierra prided herself on many things. She was a Dunmer, and that in itself was something to be proud of. She had a lovely home in Cheydinhal, which she had worked for her whole life. And she was a devout follower not in the Nine Divines, but in the Daedra.

Her love of the Daedra was a sort of obsession, and when in her travels she stumbled across a shrine to Azura, she vowed to set herself on a Pilgrimage to each of these Shrines and to serve each Daedric Prince and Princess as best she could.

Bowing before the stone visage of a beautiful woman, and setting the remains of a Will-o-the-wisp she had killed as an offering, she heard Azura speak inside her mind. It was a beautiful voice, almost angelic.

"I have seen your name, Traveler, and heard it whispered in twilight. I ask a service, which holds promise of fame and reward. Many years ago, five followers slew the vampire Dratik and its kin, but all were infected by the foul creature. Knowing their fate, they sealed themselves up in the vampire's lair. Their suffering weighs heavily on me. Travel to the Gutted Mine. The door will open to you. Bring the peace of death to my followers, and you shall earn my gratitude."

The sensation was over as soon as it had begun. It was such an odd thing to be so addressed by a Daedric Princess. And another for it to be so matter of fact. No fancy introduction or long sermon. A simple task, commanded of her.

Although simple was perhaps not the best word for it. Finding her way to the Gutted Mine on top of the Jerall Mountains was a hard task, and once inside she found herself completely outclassed by the darkness. She lit a torch and moved towards the interior of the cave as quietly as possible.

How was she supposed to kill these vampires anyways? Trusting in Azura to know what to do, she saw the five vampires sitting in one large chamber. The time to strike was now. She lunged at one with her silver short sword, cutting it down. The other four stood up quickly.

Now run!

She ran back through one of the chambers and hopped over a pressure plate. The vampire directly behind her stood on it and a mace dropped from the ceiling of the cave and smashed his head. Three more.

In a separate chamber she spun around, gutting the third vampire and then swiftly decapitating it. The remaining two shrieked loudly and rushed at her. She dropped to the ground and the vampires fell down a chasm, their bodies broken at the bottom of the cave.

"Rest easy friends," Cierra sighed.

Back at the shrine of Azura, she heard the voice of Azura in her head almost at the moment she lowered herself to it.

"Thank you, mortal. Their spirits are free, and henceforth, above my shrine, five bright candles shall burn forever in memory of their sacrifice. For your service, take this token, that your deeds might be entered in the Book of Fate."

There was a small blue light and a small star shaped crystal appeared in front of her.

One of the followers near the shrine gasped. "Azura's Star?"

Cierra bowed once more and held the star firmly in her hands. It was her first Daedric Artifact.

Imperial City Prison…

27 Last Seed 3E433

Ignin's trek through the side paths had been more than confusing and unbelievably dangerous. To his dismay he found that a horde of goblins had taken up residence in the cavern system the paralleled the prison route and taking them down in his weakened condition was no small feat.

He heard the sound of swords clashing and rushed towards it to find himself, once again, in the midst of battle between the Blades and these strange red-garbed assassins. The assassin were cut down and Glenroy turned to face Ignin.

"Damn it! It's that prisoner again! Kill him. He might be working with the assassins!"

"No!" Emperor Septim said, raising his hand. "He is not."

"Well come, we've got no time to be chatting!" Baurus shouted.

The four men ran down the corridors as the sound of footsteps began to grow louder behind them. A few chambers later, they found themselves in a large room with many ornate passages. However the one that Baurus had led them too was…

"Locked! Damn it! It's a trap!" Baurus cursed.

"What about that side passage back there?" Glenroy asked, pointing in the direction of an opened gate.

"Worth a try! Let's move," Baurus ordered.

To their dismay, the "side passage" was little more than a room. It was too late to change course however.

"They're behind us!" Ignin called.

"I see them!" Baurus shouted. "You, protect the Emperor. Guard him with your life."

Baurus and Glenroy rushed out into battle, and Emperor Septim turned towards Ignin.

"I can go no further," he said, as though every word were costing him a considerable toll. "I can see my death coming. A shrill voice calls my name."

"We're trying to protect you," Ignin said. "We won't let this happen."

"There is nothing you can do," Emperor Septim smiled.

"You seem rather calm about it. Aren't you afraid to die?"

"Men are mortal. Most men know their fate, but not the hour. In this I am blessed to know the precise moment of my demise. No trophies of my triumphs precede me, but I have lived well."

And with that, the Emperor took off the large amulet that he wore around his neck. "Take this Amulet to Jauffre in Weynon Priory. He knows where to find my son. Find him, and close shut the jaws of Oblivion."

Suddenly a door hidden in the wall opened up and a red-garbed assassin jumped out. Ignin tried to push the Emperor aside, but it was too late. The dagger found its mark. Ignin let out a bellow of anger and slashed at the assassin with Captain Renault's katana. The assassin leapt to the side and seemed genuinely shocked.

"You chose a bad to align yourself with the Septims, friend!" The assassin rushed in at Ignin with a dagger, but with skill he had not known he had, he dodged the dagger, spun and slashed the back of the assassin, who fell forward, dead.

Baurus rushed into the room and saw the sight of the fallen emperor, the assassin and Ignin.

"No…" Baurus cried. "We've failed…. I've failed. The Emperor dead, and no heir."

Suddenly his face grew quite urgent. He rushed over to the Emperor and searched his body. He looked over at Ignin.

"The Amulet of Kings? Where is the Amulet of Kings?" Baurus asked.

Ignin, not sure how Baurus would react to this, showed him the Amulet. "The Emperor gave it to me."

Baurus did not react anywhere near what Ignin was expecting. He shrugged his shoulders.

"Strange. He saw something in you. It must be the Dragon's Blood in every Septim's veins. They see things lesser men cannot. But now the line is dead."

"No," Ignin said, shaking his head. "The Emperor mentioned a son. He said Jauffre would know about it."

Baurus rubbed his chin. "Another heir? That's news to me, but Jauffre would be the one to know. Listen. The exit to the prison is just a short distance down that path, through the sewers. You take that Amulet of Kings directly to Jauffre, you understand?"

"Where is he?" Ignin asked. "The Emperor said Weynon Priory."

"It's just outside Chorrol, follow the Red Ring Road west, and take the road there to Chorrol," Baurus explained. "Now hurry. Glenroy and I will stay here to guard the Emperor's body."

Ignin nodded and made his way down the passage. A short trek through a small bit of sewers and he found himself staring at the first bit of fading sunlight. He stepped out of the sewers, and into Cyrodiil.