Author's Note: It's been a long time since I've written a fic. Years, in fact. Honestly, I never though I'd write again. But here I am, and here this is. I've had this idea for a while, and just had to get it out of my head and onto some paper. And eventually onto the World Wide Web. With that, please enjoy. Updated 12/22/07: Made a few grammatical changes and whatnot, as well as Olafur's corrections. Much thanks!
Disclaimer: I don't own much of anything in this fic. Except for the general idea, and the main character.
The ground was cold. Hard. Filthy. And smelled something horrible. A young man of 17 was sprawled out on it, wrinkling his nose as his senses came back to him and the strong, acrid smell wafted through his nostrils. He slowly sat up, rubbing his pounding head. As his eyes slowly came into focus, he was able to make out his surroundings. And the fear and panic hit him hard.
He found himself in what could only be a jail cell, though it seemed to him more of a cell from the Dark Ages. The cell was made of brick, though in many places the bricks had fallen out and left deep holes in the walls. The layers of cobwebs and dust were so thick that the walls appeared to be of many different shades of gray and brown. A single torch was mounted on the wall, though the air was so thick and heavy that the light seemed hardly able to penetrate through it. A single wooden table stood on the floor, the wood rotting and split.
The teenage boy slowly stood up, unsure of what he was seeing. He was certain that this could only be a dream. No, it HAD to be a dream. But no matter how much he tried to convince himself of this, the more he came to believe it was real. He'd had enough weird, bizarre dreams in his life time to know that they were dreams. This WAS reality. He knew from the fact that he had conscious thought, and his senses were working perfectly, allowing him to feel everything about the room. This did not happen in a dream.
His name was Bradyn Joshua Torrez. Most people called him Brad, some called him Aiden, and his few close friends called him Ade. If for whatever reason someone was trying to insult him, most would call him BJ, thinking the perverted reference would provoke him. Brad would simply laugh and give the insulter a look full of such disdain that the culprit would basically feel like a moron.
Brad was of Hispanic descent, which gave him his last name. He was actually half Irish too, with a bit of German, Italian and French thrown in the mix. This gave him the typical Mexican look, with jet black hair, brown eyes, and facial hair at the age of twelve. While his skin was darker than most, his Irish descent prevented him from naturally being totally tan. Only during the summer would he get really, noticeably dark.
At 5'11", he was at a decent height. Though you couldn't tell from looking at him, he weighed about 145 lbs, give or take a few. He looked thin, but toned, with some noticeably defined muscles, particularly in his legs. He was by no means a bodybuilder, but years of swimming, martial arts and cross country had kept him in shape.
Brad looked around the cell some more. He tried very hard to stay calm and focused, though admittedly it took some effort. He'd never been in a situation like this. Sure, he'd had his fair share of trouble, but he'd never been at such a loss. He had no idea where to even begin. He realized he was wearing some old, moth-eaten shirt that smelled of mildew, as well as some equally nasty pants. They both vaguely reminded him of potato sacks. A pair of thin leather sandals was roughly attached to his feet, held on by a thin strap that dug into his skin.
Leaning against the wall, he took a deep breath, and tried to remember how he got here. He realized with a start that his memory was completely foggy and he could not for the life of him remember anything that had happened recently. This scared him more than anything.
I must have hit my head… he thought. It would certainly explain why his head was throbbing. He tried in vain to recall something, anything that would explain what was going on. But the most recent memory seemed to have happened forever ago. It was certainly not helping him any.
A cough echoed from across the hall, startling him from his stupor and causing him to leap off the wall with a small yelp. Catching his breath, he realized the cough came from the cell directly across from his own. He wondered why he hadn't even considered the possibility that he wasn't alone.
Moving up towards the cell door, he peered through the bars and the gloom into the cell across. There definitely was someone in there, though Brad couldn't make out any features other than an obviously masculine figure. The man appeared to be singing softly to himself, sitting in the corner of his cell on a pile of rags Brad could only assume was a bed. Looking behind him, he realized his cell was lacking any sort of bedding.
Deciding that he wasn't quite ready to strike up a conversation with his seemingly insane cell block mate, Brad turned and sat down against his wall again. He decided he might as well think of his most recent memory, go from there.
He had gone to school, just like any other day. And he had made plans for after school, again just like any other day. Who were they with? Brad could not remember worth anything. He had decided it had been a Friday, since he couldn't recall going anywhere for lunch. Fridays at his school were half-days. What were his plans? He vaguely recalled being nervous about them. Meaning they were to do something he really shouldn't have been doing, for getting caught would result in being grounded the rest of his high school days.
Brad didn't know how long he'd been sitting there lost in thought, though when he finally 'woke up,' he realized he was being watched. The man across the hall had walked up to the bars of his cell, and was gazing at Brad. He was standing in such a way that the light from his own cell cast a shadow over his face, and the light in Brad's simply could not reach him. Again, Brad could not make out any features. Coming to the conclusion that no harm could come from interrogating the strange man, Brad walked up to his own cell bars.
"Well?" said Brad, deciding that the tough guy act might be efficient in dealing with his fellow prisoner. "Are you just gonna stare at me all day, or are you going to say something?"
The man cocked his head to the side, as if trying to decide something.
"What are you?" he finally spoke. His voice was raspy, with a sort of fingernails-on-chalkboard quality to it. Brad found himself shuddering a bit at the sound.
"Excuse me?" Brad asked a little confused.
"You're certainly not elven." the man with the irritating voice said with contempt. "Too small for a Nord. Not dark enough for a Redguard. Sure as hell not Argonian. Or a Khajiit or Orc, for that matter. Breton is a possibility, though you may be too tall. But my guess is an Imperial, though there's something about that that just doesn't quite fit either. So again, I ask, what are you?"
"Okay," Brad responded, both irritated and utterly bemused. "Pretend for one second that I have absolutely no idea what the hell you are talking about."
The man gave a small laugh, which to Brad sounded more like a dry heave than anything.
"It doesn't matter." the man finally said. "No matter what race you really are, or where you came from, you're still stuck in here. In this smelly, dark, rat-infested little hole. Oh yes, you are in here forever. You're going to die in here, boy. You hear me? Die!"
"Whatever." Brad said, trying not to show that what the man said had in fact caused his heart to race. Was he really going to die in here? Die without knowing where he was? No way. Brad simply would not allow it. He decided to question the man some more. "Who are you? For someone that acts all high and mighty, you sure like to cower in the shadows. Why don't you show yourself?"
The man laughed again. Slowly, he turned his body so that the light behind cast a glow in front of him. Brad gasped and involuntarily took a step back, not willing to believe what he saw.
He had gray hair, and red eyes. His hairline was receding, pronouncing his already large forehead even more. He had ears like a, well, an elf. But it was the skin that shocked Brad. It was almost purplish. Brad really could not think of any other way to describe it, other than the man looked like he'd been holding his breath since he was born. Brad found it almost disgusting, like the man was diseased.
"What in God's name are you?" Brad choked out, his tough guy act completely dropped and replaced with one of genuine fear.
"What?" said the creature, "Never seen a Dunmer before? Or perhaps you know my race as that of the Dark Elves? No matter. I'll be out of here before long, while you'll still be rotting away."
With that, the Dunmer turned away and sat back in his corner, singing to himself and drawing pictures in the dust. Brad, still recovering from his initial shock, stumbled his way back to his spot against the wall and collapsed on the floor. He was at a complete loss of what to think.
Where the hell am I? he thought silently. There's no way I'm in the United States. Africa maybe? All kinds of weird stuff goes on there. Judging from this cell, I'm guessing some third-world country. Question is: how the hell did I get here?
Brad resumed his process of trying to recall his most recent memory. Who had he made plans with? What were they? For some reason, figuring this out seemed extremely important to him. Maybe simply because it provided some comfort, thinking of his life before he had woken up in a cell with some purple freak across the hall.
Brad was awoken from his reverie by the sound of heavy footsteps in the hall. The sound of clanking metal resonated as well. Brad immediately jumped to his feet, wondering what was going on now. He wearily watched the hall, and heard voices.
"It is true then?" said a deep voice, with a certain quality Brad found soothing. "My sons are all dead?"
"I'm afraid so, sire." this time the voice came from a woman.
"Hurry, my liege." yet another voice, this one belonging to another man. "There is no time."
"Of course." the first voice again.
Suddenly, the cell door swung open with a loud clang and before Brad could even think of reacting, his tiny cell was crammed full of people. Three of them were wearing shiny, silver armor, with long swords sheathed at their sides. The other was an elderly man, dressed in fine robes. Brad didn't even have to think about it, he just knew that the man was some sort of royalty, and the others were his guards. He just had no idea what kind of royalty. All four seemed quite startled to see Brad standing there, in his potato-sack clothes, looking as shocked as they were.
"Who are you?!" the woman asked accusingly. "This cell is supposed to remain empty at all times!"
"Relax, Renault." one of the guards said before Brad could respond. "It's no concern of ours. We have to keep moving."
"Right." the woman called Renault agreed. She looked at Brad. "Prisoner! Stand back! We won't hesitate to you kill you if you get in our way."
Brad was still too stunned. A thousand thoughts were running through his head at once. Naturally, the most prominent was: What the HELL is going on? Without quite thinking, he took a few steps back and tried to flatten himself against the wall. Eyeing the open cell door beside the guards, he dimly thought that he might be able to make a break for it. Renault saw him watching the exit, and promptly slammed it shut. As she moved to do this, the old man in the regal robes got a clear view of Brad, and gasped.
"It's you…" he trailed off in his voice full of wisdom. Brad was dumbfounded. And from the looks of the guards, they were just as confused as Brad.
"Erm…" Brad stuttered, finding his courage. "Me? What about me? And…uh….who exactly are you?"
"I am Emperor Uriel Septim VII, ruler of Tamriel." the regal man stated. "And you…I've seen your face. In my dreams. And my nightmares. These are my Blades, my royal bodyguards. They are Renault, Baurus and Glenroy. What is your name, young man?"
"Erm…Bradyn. Torrez." Brad stammered, still utterly lost.
"And from where do you hail?" asked the Emperor.
"Arizona. The U.S."
"Not from these lands than. Quite possibly not from this world."
"My liege, we must go!" the one called Baurus interrupted before Brad could speak. "Time is not on our side."
"You are right. Let's go." the Emperor said calmly.
With that, Baurus fiddled with something on the wall Brad couldn't see, and the wall slid down and out of sight, revealing a dark and cold tunnel. Renault took point, followed by the Emperor, with Glenroy covering the rear. Baurus turned to look at Brad.
"Guess today is just your lucky day, prisoner." he said. And with that he too had vanished into the tunnel.
Faced with no other alternatives, Brad braced himself and headed towards the dark tunnel as well. Glancing at the Dark Elf, who apparently had remained oblivious to the entire thing, he took a deep breath and stepped into the dark. Feeling for the walls, he kept his hand on the cold, slimy side of the tunnel and began to make his way forward.
The Emperor and his entourage were already a ways up ahead, and as Brad's eyes adjusted to the dark he could vaguely make out their shapes moving swiftly in the dark. He briefly wondered how they could move so easily in this darkness. He broke into a bit of a run, keeping one hand on the side at all times. There was no way he was gonna let them get out of his sight and leave all alone. As he drew closer, he could hear them talking softly.
"-bother to bring a torch?" Glenroy was saying.
"So that we shine like a beacon for the assassins?" Renault countered. "Night-Eye is a beautiful thing, Glenroy."
"You know I've never been good with Magicka." Glenroy whispered. "Or those who practice it."
"Hush!" Baurus muttered. The party stopped. Brad stopped too, not wanting to get in their way. He never doubted Renault's threat.
The group moved slowly forward, and Brad soon came to realize that the tunnel had widened into a chamber. An unidentifiable blue light illuminated the room slightly, bringing a welcome reprieve from the suffocating darkness. The Emperor hung back a bit with Baurus as Renault and Glenroy moved cautiously forward, their hands on the hilt of their blades. Brad slunk into the shadows, hoping to remain undetected. He couldn't help but think that the Blades wouldn't be too happy to see him. The Emperor, however, turned and looked directly at him, and Brad realized they knew he was behind them all along.
Without warning, a loud cry echoed through the chamber, as three hooded figures in blood-red robes darted out from nowhere. In unison they raised their arms, and a green smoke seemed to flow over them and they were instantly covered in dark, spiky armor. Brad couldn't help but notice how demonic the armor looked. The three assassins were also now equipped with deadly and equally demonic-looking daggers. All this happened in a split-second.
"Protect the Emperor!!" Baurus shouted as he, Renault and Glenroy darted forward to meet the newcomers. Brad tried to desperately to stay calm and hidden in the shadows, knowing that he simply stood no chance if he engaged in combat with the assassins. His meager 3 years of martial arts was nothing against these fully-armored and most likely well-trained fighters.
The Emperor drew his own sword, and fell back against a column, prepared to take on anything that came at him. Brad watched from the shadows as the Blades engaged in deadly combat with assassins. Their skill was incredible, dodging here, thrusting there, sidestepping, blocking, and trying to find a weak point in the assassin's armor. The assassins were equally matched in skill, however, though flashes of blinding light and flame were seen coming from them. They had all moved on to the lower ledge of the chamber, leaving Brad and the Emperor above.
Renault was dueling with one assassin, while Baurus and Glenroy took on another. Brad assumed the third had been slaughtered, but came to the realization that he had simply disappeared. The Emperor realized this too, and as he looked around in alarm, Brad saw a slight shimmer in the air next to him. With horror, he immediately realized what was about to happen and darted forward.
As the assassin's chameleon spell wore off, he raised his blade and was just about to plunge it deep into the Emperor's back. Without thinking, Brad slammed all his weight into the armor-clad assassin, causing him to stumble and trip. They fell in a tangled mess, Brad trying desperately to get away as the man lay stunned. In one swift movement, the Emperor pulled at his summoned cuirass and plunged his sword deep into the small opening it made. The assassin gave one last cry and died, his armor swiftly vanishing leaving him dead in his pool of blood.
Brad immediately turned to the other fighter, and was stunned as one of the assassins threw a bolt of lightning at Renault, causing her to twitch violently as the electricity sizzled threw her. Without hesitation the assassin had plunged his dagger deep into her throat and pulled it out again. Renault emitted a deep death-rattle as she collapsed face first on the ground, her flood flowing in a huge pool.
Baurus yelled in anger and kicked the assassin against the wall, swinging his sword and decapitating him completely. Glenroy quickly dispatched the remaining assassin, leaving his body a crumpled mess on the floor. The two remaining Blades were immediately at their fallen comrade's side, gently lifting her out of her own blood. Baurus produced a cloth from the small knapsack at his side, and wiped her face clean. The Emperor was also at her side, and he tenderly touched her neck. White light flowed from his finger tips and into the wound, sealing it closed.
Brad remained where he was, squatting next to the body of the assassin he helped kill. He looked down at the three, and could only feel great respect towards them as they tenderly restored Renault to her former dignity, allowing her to look strong even in death. They bowed their heads as the Emperor muttered a few incoherent words.
Despite this tender moment, Brad remained terrified. He had never before seen someone kill another person, or be killed. He was by no means squeamish, so the sight of blood didn't bother him. It was how the blood came to be everywhere that got him worked up. He simply couldn't believe this was happening. How did he go from his apparently sheltered existence to this place of death? He remembered what the Emperor had said earlier, and came to believe that he must be right. He simply was not in his own world anymore.
The Emperor was suddenly beside him, his hand on Brad's shoulder for comfort. Brad subconsciously thought of how he normally would have shrugged off this strange man's hand, but he suddenly felt so exhausted and alone that the small gesture was welcome. As he straightened himself up, he winced as his arm throbbed with a sharp pain. He looked in wonder when he saw the deep puncture in his right bicep, bleeding profusely. He dimly realized that he must have punctured it on the dead assassin's sharp conjured armor. He tried flexing it, but the pain was so great he gasped aloud.
"Probably tore through the muscle." Baurus said softly. Brad hadn't realized that he was standing there too. The Emperor gently held Brad's arm, and the white light again slowly flowed from his fingertips into Brad's bicep. Again the wound mended itself and closed, leaving a bruise in its place. The sharp, unbearable pain was replaced with a dull, persistent throb.
"Not the best job." the Emperor murmured. "But Renault was the only one of us with any real skill in Magicka."
"You can use magic then?" Brad asked with a hint of awe in his voice. "Magic exists in this world, apparently."
"Magicka." the Emperor corrected. "And everyone can use it with the proper training. Some more efficient than others, obviously. You could use it too I'm sure."
"Right." Brad said with a hint of sarcasm and disbelief in his voice.
"We can't stay here." Glenroy said after a moment, and Brad turned to see that he and Baurus were standing by the exit out of the chamber. "Your Excellency, we must keep moving."
The Emperor gave Brad one last look over before turning and following. The three bowed their heads over Renault's body one last time and turned to enter the next tunnel. Brad was promptly behind them. He was definitely not staying alone. But Baurus immediately closed the gate behind him and locked it. Brad was stuck on the other side.
"What are you doing?" Brad asked in anger.
"You are not a Blade." Baurus responded. "You are defenseless. It will be much safer for you to remain here then to come with us. And frankly, I'm not sure I trust someone who was locked in a prison cell, even if they are not of this world."
And with that, the Emperor and his Blades disappeared in the dark, leaving Brad standing alone with the dead bodies. What was he to do now? The gate would not open, and was too sturdy to be broken down. He paced angrily, trying to think of something that would help. There was no way he was going back to that cramped little cell.
As he was pacing, a loud crash jerked him out of thought and startled him into a defensive stance. Two huge rats had burst out from a crumbled section of the wall. They were three times as big as normal sewer rats, and came loping towards Brad.
Brad moved aside, thinking the rodents would ignore him, but they turned and lunged at him. He deftly knocked one aside with his hand, but the other attached itself to his stomach with its mouth. Brad yelped in pain and anger, and grabbed the vermin by its neck and flung it at the wall, killing it. The first rat again jumped at him, but Brad bashed it in the head with his fist, cracking its skull and killing it instantly.
Shocked and out of breath, Brad realized that he was sure as hell not gonna get out of this place without more bloodshed. Bracing himself, he entered through the small hole the rats had created. He found himself in a cave, dark save for a green light emitted from some phosphorescent plants. The air was damp and cold, with a strong scent of mildew and rot. He couldn't make out much of his surroundings, and blindly groped around, silently cursing himself for not taking the torch off the wall in his cell.
As he fumbled in the dark, he heard a distinct cry from somewhere in the cave. He paused, holding his breath as the unmistakable sound of footsteps drew closer. Without warning, Brad had to shield his eyes as whatever was drawing nearer lit a torch. His surroundings were immediately lit up, and after blinking Brad saw what was holding the torch.
It was short and green. Skeletal almost. It had a huge, bald head with equally big ears. Its teeth were razor sharp, and its squinty little eyes bloodshot. Brad barely had time to react before it attempted to bash the side of his head in with the flaming torch. Nimbly dodging back, Brad retaliated with a swift roundhouse kick to the side of the creature's head. The creature stumbled back, dazed, and Brad took this opportunity to deliver a well-placed punch to the its face, shattering its nose and dazing it even more.
Brad had never been in a hand-to-hand combat before, and was surprised at how well he seemed to be doing. He had no intention of killing the creature, however, as it seemed vaguely intelligent. The same couldn't be said for the little beast, as the creature quickly recovered and unsheathed a silver dagger, jabbing it swiftly at Brad. Brad dodged from side to side, bobbing and weaving to avoid the sharp edge of the blade. The adrenaline was in his system at full blast, allowing him to focus like he'd never focused before.
The creature jabbed the dagger at his head. Brad stepped aside, and grabbed the its skinny arm and twisted it with all his might. The wrist broke, and the dagger fell to the floor. Brad immediately grabbed it, and in one quick movement turned and plunged it into the side of the creature's head. The creature was dead before it hit the floor.
Stunned and amazed by his first real kill, Brad gazed down at the lifeless body. Feeling a bit nauseous, he looked away and shut his eyes, trying to settle his mind. After a minute of deep breathing, he grabbed the dead creature's still flaming torch and raised it high, illuminating the whole of the cave. He noticed a large chest on the floor, an old out-of-place well, and a skeleton in the corner. The only exit he could see was further back.
He made his way over to the chest. Opening it, he found an old pair of leather boots and some leather chest armor. There was also a small sack containing thirty pieces of gold, which Brad eagerly took out. While he wasn't sure who the stuff in the chest belonged too, he decided that his situation was worse and he could take what he wanted. He decided to don the leather boots and cuirass, since he figured that some sort of protection would be a good thing. Peeling off his blood-soaked sandals, he slid his feet into the boots that were a surprisingly good fit. He just wished he had some socks to protect his feet from the inevitable blistering the rough leather would cause.
He pulled the leather cuirass over his potato-sack shirt. He felt somewhat better with the armor, and a hell of a lot warmer. Tying the sack of gold tightly under his shirt in a spot it wouldn't be noticed but would be easy for him to get to, he moved towards the skeleton. The first thing he saw was the compact rucksack on the ground next to the body. Eagerly taking it, he opened it to find it was capable of holding much more than he'd expected.
Inside the sack was a heavy piece of iron armor. An iron cuirass, to be exact. Brad pulled it out and examined it. It was rusty, but still looked to be in decent condition. There was no way he was going to wear it, however. He was a runner, and a swimmer. He valued his speed above anything else, and was not going to sacrifice it for a bit of extra protection. The heavy armor would only slow him down.
He did leave it in the rucksack, however, figuring he should keep what he could just in case. There was some old, rotted meat and fruit in the bag as well. Brad promptly dumped them out. Swinging the bag over his shoulder, he noticed the skeleton was holding a long steel sword and a leather shield. Grateful for something other than his fists, he took the sword and the shield. He also took the sheath that was loosely attached to the skeleton's side, and attached it to his own. With his new sword sheathed, the shield in his sack and the torch in his hand, he made his way out of the cave and further on.
The going was long, and cold. Occasionally he would cross the path of more huge, hungry rats. A swift kick or punch was all that was needed to take care of them. Eventually he entered a wide cavern, with a big fire roasting a rat in the center. The warmth was welcome, but the creatures around it weren't. They were the same monsters as the one Brad killed earlier. Brad snuffed out his torch, and crept silently behind the nearest one. As quietly as he could, he unsheathed the sword, and plunged it straight through the creature's heart.
It collapsed instantly, unnoticed by its peers. Brad moved towards the next, but stumbled slightly, alerting the others to his presence. He immediately stood, withdrew his shield, and engaged in deadly combat. He had no skill at all with a sword, but it was obvious what he was supposed to do with it. He dodged nimbly, thankful that he had chosen to wear the lighter armor. The beasties did get a few hits in, tearing the leather and leaving a gash in his leg. It was only a matter of minutes before the three creatures were slain and Brad was tying a strip of cloth around his wound, trying to stem the bleeding. He vaguely wished he had learned some Magicka from the Emperor.
Relighting his torch, he explored the rest of the cavern, taking whatever he though might be useful. There were a few chests, and most contained gold, jewels, and other random objects like hourglasses or gardening tools. Brad took what he could, and the rucksack never seemed to run out of room, though it did get increasingly heavier. By the time he was ready to leave the cavern, he had a nice assortment of weapons, jewels, clothing and gold.
Brad continued on. He walked for what seemed an eternity, with the constant fear and realization that he was never going to get out. He took what he could. He slaughtered whatever stood in his way, which were mainly rats with a few of those creatures scattered about. At one point, what he had mistaken for a simple rotting corpse got up and attacked him, giving him such a fright he nearly fell on his own sword. It was killed easily, as its rotting flesh and crumbling bones couldn't stand up to much punishment. It wasn't easygoing, and Brad was soon bruised, bloodied and exhausted.
After what seemed hours, the greenish light of the caves changed back into the bluish light of the chambers where he'd last seen the Emperor. He walked cautiously forward, hearing voices from somewhere nearby. He soon realized that he was on a balcony type structure, and directly below him were in fact the Emperor and his companions. They all seemed battle-worn, exhausted, and were covered in blood. Brad knew they were having just as hard a time surviving as he was.
There was a scream, and three hooded figures appeared out of the shadows, casting their spells and soon clad in armor again. The Emperor and the two Blades attacked without hesitation. Baurus and Glenroy skillfully fended the assassins with their blades, while the Emperor resorted more towards spell-casting, throwing fire at the assassins and casting spells that caused weird effects on the attackers. Brad ran towards the edge, and braced himself to jump down.
Before he hit the ground, the assassins were dispatched. Brad crumpled as he hit the ground, and as he pulled himself up he felt a cold blade press against his throat.
"Prisoner!" Baurus shouted in outrage, holding his blade steady against Brad. "I told you not to follow us! How did you get here?"
"Wait!" Brad said, equally outraged. "What the hell are you doing? I'm on your side!"
"How do we know you are not an assassin?" Baurus asked accusingly.
"Let the boy be." the Emperor said calmly. "He is of no harm to us."
Baurus reluctantly withdrew. Brad sheathed his own sword, and turned to the Emperor, who seemed ghost-like in the torchlight.
"Are you finally going to tell me what's going on?" Brad asked, still angry. "Why these people keep attacking you, and why I'm in this world?"
"The assassins killed my sons." Uriel Septim said softly. "They killed the last of my kin, and will try to kill me. If they succeed, the Dragonfires will die out and the realm will not be safe. As for you, I do not know how you came to be in this world. All I know is that your destiny is intertwined with the safety of this land."
"And I suppose your dreams told you this?" Brad replied bitterly. He didn't understand what the Emperor was talking about, and at this point he didn't care. He just wanted to go home. And when he asked the old man how to do that, Septim merely tilted his head.
"What is your birthsign, young Bradyn?" he asked after a bit.
"Uh…well I'm an Aquarius…" Brad asked bemused. "And in the year of the goat.."
"Hmmm…" Septim tilted his head again. "You obviously have different methods than we do. If I had to guess, I would say you were born under the Thief."
"I am no thief." Brad said defensively.
"No, no." the old man said dismissively. "It merely affects your abilities, not what you use them for. Baurus, Bradyn will accompany us the rest of the way."
"Yes, my liege." Baurus responded, not willing to argue with a man as wise and powerful as Uriel Septim. "Young man, you may as well make yourself useful. The assassins know we're here, so there's no use in trying to hide. Hold that torch high, and light the way for the Emperor."
Brad did just that. They had hardly entered the next chamber when more battle cries were heard and a seemingly infinite number of hooded figures appeared. Baurus none too gently shoved both the Emperor and Brad into a little side room.
"Guard him with your life!" Baurus shouted at Brad. Brad unsheathed his sword and backed the Emperor into a corner so that nothing could sneak up on them. Through the low doorway and dim light, they could barely see the chaos that ensued.
"Bradyn Torrez." Uriel Septim said somberly. Brad turned to look at him. "The time has come for us to part ways. I will not survive this, I foreseen it. It is up to you to protect the realm."
"What?!" Brad said astonished. "You're not going to die here!"
"Brave words, young Bradyn." Septim said. "But I have seen this, and what I see always comes to pass. Here, take this. It is the Amulet of Kings. With it, the last of the Septim line can relight the Dragonfires and close shut the jaws of Oblivion."
"Last of the line?" Brad asked, thoroughly confused, though nonetheless taking the heavy yet weightless necklace. "You said all your descendents had been killed?"
"There is but one." the old man replied. "My illegitimate son, unaware of his heritage. I know not where he is. Jauffre will though. Travel to Weynon Priory outside of Chorrol. Jauffre is there. Give him the Amulet. He will know what to do."
"But…sir!" Brad tried to protest. The old man's will was strong.
"Go now, young Bradyn. And may the Nine Divines guide you." With that, an assassin darted out of the shadows, knocking Brad aside and plunging his conjured dagger deep into the Emperor's heart. Uriel Septim VII, Emperor of Tamriel, collapsed in a heap on the floor, killed instantly.
Brad cried with rage and launched himself at the murderer. His sword had been knocked aside, and he fought will all his might, using every ounce of his strength and martial arts training to try and kill the killer. With a flurry of kicks, punches, sweeps, grabs and throws, Brad fought like he had never fought before. The conjured armor bloodied his knuckles, tore at his flesh and ripped his leather. But the assassin was unable to fight back, for as soon as he regained himself another blow would knock him back.
Brad soon grew exhausted. He had definitely injured the assassin, but before long he would be to weak and the man would murder him like he had the Emperor. Just as it seemed he could fight no more, Baurus flew in, and in one swift move had driven his blade straight through the assassin, slicing through the weakened armor like it was butter.
Baurus immediately collapsed next to the fallen Emperor, and without a noise began to clean him up as he did to Renault. Brad leaned against the wall, catching his breath and looking in horror at the sight. Not able to watch much longer, Brad sheathed his sword and made his into the main chamber. Bodies littered the area, mostly clad in blood-red robes, though one body was different. Brad felt a strong pang of grief as he looked upon the crumpled corpse of Glenroy. Without thinking, he knelt by the body and shuffled inside his knapsack until he found an old shirt. Ripping a strip from it, he gently wiped Glenroy's face clean and laid him to rest.
As he stood up, a wave of pain and exhaustion overcame him. He was bruised and bloody, his leather armor basically torn to shreds and his body aching in so many places it was almost numb. He wavered on the spot, and would've collapsed if not for the strong hand that grabbed his shoulder and held him upright. Baurus had emerged.
"Where is the amulet?" he asked slowly, angrily.
"He gave it to me." Brad said, holding it up. "He wants me to bring it to Jauffre, at Weynon Priory. Wherever that is. He said there's another heir, an illegitimate one. Jauffre would know what to do, apparently."
"Really now?" Baurus asked, releasing his tight grip. "Well, I don't know why the Emperor trusted you, but he obviously did. And if he did, I do to. By the way, what class are you?"
"Class?" Brad asked, too tired to really be confused. And tired of being confused.
"From the way you were fighting," Baurus continued. "I would say you've been training to be a Monk. Maybe you even are a Monk."
"Monk? No…" Brad slowly realized what he meant. "Nothing like that. I did a few years of Tae Kwon Do and Hapkido. Martial arts."
"Oh." Baurus said. "So you are a Martial Artist. Impressive. Unusual. At any rate, you need to get going then. Here, this key will open that gate over there, leading to the sewers. From there you can get to the surface. Take these as well."
Baurus handed Brad a rolled up map, and a compass on a chain. The map seemed to be of a place called Cyrodiil, which Brad could only guess was the land he was in. He soon found Chorrol, and below it a little place marked Weynon Priory. He stowed the map in his bag and hung the compass around his neck. Baurus urged him to get going.
"Wait!" Brad replied, an idea springing to mind. "Do you know Magicka? I'm in a lot of pain right now, and if you could heal my cuts or teach me how to use it, I would be really grateful."
"I'm sorry." Baurus said, shaking his head. "I've never been to keen on learning Magicka. Someone in the city will gladly teach you, especially someone from the Mages Guild, if you're interested. Not without a fee of course."
"One more thing." Baurus said. He proceeded to search through the various bodies of the assassins. After a few minutes, he produced a few bottles with some silver liquid inside. "These potions will restore your wounds. They aren't as potent as a spell, but they get the job done. And these ones here will restore your energy. I know you must be exhausted."
Brad hesitated for a bit before he downed one of the potions. Immediately, he felt his pain subside as his wounds mended themselves. He drank another for good measure, fully restoring his health, save for the inevitable dull ache of blood loss. He downed the other type, and felt a rush of energy fill his body.
Talk about adrenaline rush. he thought grimly to himself, and put the rest of the potions into his bag.
"Good luck Bradyn Torrez, the Martial Artist." Baurus said as he held out his hand. Brad slowly shook it, and smiled grimly at the man. Looking at the Emperor's body, now made peaceful by Baurus, he turned and headed towards the gate to the sewers.
The sewers were dark and stank horribly, but Brad pushed on. The promise of the surface and fresh air made his very soul yearn for it. He encountered little resistance in the sewer, a few rats and a green-creature or two. After what seemed another hour, he found himself in a tunnel that didn't smell so bad. The further down he got, the more he realized that at the end of the tunnel was a gate with what was unmistakably sunlight shining through.
Taking a deep breath, he prepared his mind and body for what was undoubtedly going to be a long, difficult journey. With a slow smile, Bradyn opened the gate, and took the last few steps into the sunshine.
A/N: And there you have it. I chose to make Brad come from our world and not Tamriel in order to create the same sense of awe, wonder and terror in him that I felt the first time I played through Oblivion. Reviews are welcome, naturally, and constructive criticism as well. Key word: Constructive. There's something about my writing style I don't like but it has been a few years.