The Elder Scrolls: Ascension [IC]

[The Lendol Archipelago]

Einar Lundson
Ninendava, Jerall Mountains
West of Bruma, Cyrodiil, the Empire

---

Einar nodded, returning her warm, friendly smile. To think that he had thought this friendly woman might've attacked him was preposterous.

"Of course, I didn't even think to look for the altar" Einar replied praise in his voice, secretly he had hoped that she, too, was looking for the rune, not just gems and baubles.

"I will help you, although I have to warn you, I found no traces of the altar, or any hidden doors that lead to it. Would you like to eat before we start our search? I've had naught to eat but an apple today" Einar said, his stomach giving a gentle rumble in agreement.

[Qart chadast]

Chapter Three: The New Recruits and The Old Guarde
Orakh Gro-Maguok & Shuha Gra-Ulazol & Garb

---

Inn at the mountain pass to Orsinium, High Rock

Somewhere during that night when Shuha was asleep Orakh was still reading out of his favorite book, Orsinium and the Orcs, when he suddenly heard a loud and angry roar coming from somewhere outside. Orakh inmediatly sat up, not knowing what that was. Shuha also woke up from the sound and as she just turned again to go back to sleep the innkeeper came rushing into their room, "Shuha! Come quickly, there's trouble outside with Garb!" he said while panicing a bit.
Shuha jumped out of bed and without even putting her armour on she grabbed her bow and rushed outside. Orakh, who hadn't changed yet, put on his helmet and grabbed one of his war axes and followed Shuha and the innkeeper aswell.

Outside Garb was being confronted by a handful of guards who where threatening him. Garb was furious and afraid at the same time, furious becouse he wanted to make pudding out of these guards for waking him up during his sleep, afraid becouse he was only allowed to make pudding out of people with Shuha's permission or if Shuha was in danger. For now all that kept him safe was the stablemaster who had the courage to stand between Garb and the guards.
The guards stood there laughing at the insecure Troll with their swords drawn when Shuha, Orakh and the innkeeper came outside, "Step away from him right now!" Shuha demanded as she drew an Arrow while slowely moving herself next to the stablemaster.
"This creature is a danger for the people, you're not seriously believing that we just let it slide. This beast will meet its end right here at this night!" One of the guards said on an angry tone.
For the moment there was a tense standoff between the people of the inn, Orakh, Shuha, Garb and on the other side the guards. In the moment though most of the inn had come outside to see what's going on and most of them knew Garb and Shuha. The guards quickly found themselves outnumbered and from all sides people where shouting at them, "Make yourselves out of here! Get away from the Troll you scum! Find a real job!"
The guards however didn't seem to care that they where going to stand no chance, "What are you still doing here? Get rid of yourselves while you still can. You ain't gonna harm Garb here, in matter of fact it will only take one signal and he will crush you all within a blink of an eye!" Shuha told while getting somewhat afraid aswell. She had regular encounters with guards like these who thought they could just make up their own laws, yet when this happend they would all leave as soon as locals gathered around to defend Garb. Shuha and the locals could easely handle the guards, but killing guards was never a thing that would go without revenge.

Not a moment too late another patrol arrived with one of Orakh's old friends ahead of it, "What do you think you're doing?!" the Orsimer shouted to the guards, "Get back to work and leave the Troll alone!" he continued as he stepped off his horse.
The guards looked at eachother and quickly took off. "Thanks alot Kurdin" Shuha sad as she lowered her bow.
"Its alright Shuha, these new recruits think that they can do whatever they like wherever they are." Kurdin replied as he looked into the direction where the guards went to.
Now that it all was over Shuha went to Garb, signing him that everything was alright now. Garb didn't feel alright though, he was still furious and afraid.
"I'll be staying with Garb out here, i don't think he wants to spend the rest of the night alone out here" Shuha said as she noticed that Garb was still upset.
Orakh still stood there with his war axe in his hand, now thinking wether he should talk with Kurdin, after all he was one of the officers who saved his life. However there where too many people around and Orakh didn't want to break the agreement he had with Shuha. So instead Orakh went back inside, returning to his book. Shuha kept herself with Garb, accompanied by the stable master and Kurdin the three spend the night in the outside air as personal bodyguards of Garb, something Garb could appreciate.

"These new recruits are pain in the ass almost everywhere throughout the lands of Orsinium" Kurdin said as he sat down.
Garb roared calmly, trying to thank Kurdin for getting rid of these guards. "Its okay Garb, ik now how you feel, sometimes i want to end them right at the spot aswell. Alot of them come from far away, having no knowledge on the people, the lands, how we do things here or even the law for that matter." Kurdin told, clearly being irritated by them. "anyways, how's your brother doing?" he then asked as he turned to Shuha.
"He's doing fine i suppose, still doesn't like it out there and still wants to make his grand return to Orsinium." Shuha replied as she knew this wasn't the place to tell him about Orakh's new plan.
"I hope he can return one day, he didn't deserved to be banished for doing what any proper Orsimer would do. The lord is still as weak as back then. Few weeks ago we had a simular happening where an Orsimer family was killed by Breton scum. The other families took matters in their own hands just as Orakh did and they found themselves hanged in Orsinium... Its a sad time for the Orsimer, not able to defend themselves at all.." Kurdin replied, feeling somewhat ashamed of his own life and his own people.
Shuha looked up at Kurdin, "So what are the opinions in Orsinium now, on the lord that is? Do they still remember what Orakh did all those years ago? Do they even see that the lord is a problem?" She asked, only realizing later that she might have given away somewhat of a clue.
"I'm not so sure anymore, many of the new recruits seem to support the lord, mostly becouse they have no idea of what he did and more importantly what he didn't. As for Orakh, most still remember him yes and fathers still tell their children about him. But just as the question with the lord, most newcomers have no clue and often discard the story as some kind of fairy tale..." Kurdin replied. He didn't see any clue since he knew Shuha always gathered such information for Orakh. "Anyhow, i believe its time for me to patrol the roads again, and no worries Garb, i'll make sure i'll stay close to the inn." he then said as he stood up. In the end Kurdin had his job, and the higher commanders wouldn't be happy if he had sat at an inn all night long. And so Kurdin left in the night he came from...
Shuha, the stable master and Garb turned to sleep at that point aswell, after all there was no need to waste the night by staying up too long.

[The Ik Ka Ek Akai]

Cyrodiil, the Imperial City

Martin Septim, the avatar of Akatosh and a pretty statue laying within the confines of the Imperial City, stood strong as stone among the crowded streets. The sun could be seen high in the sky, and people of all races from across the entirety of the vast empire walked the busy streets. In the middle of the crowd stood the statue remnant of the last true Septim, forever encased in stone for the whole of the world to see and remember his great deeds and his selfless sacrifice in the name of the greater good. Were the statue able to view anything, it might be both proud and upset at the sights it saw. The Imperial City was as beautiful as ever, its architecture majestic and its people welcoming. However, Altmer armies and the falling state of the world would be tear-inducing to the stone form, dripping with the pale matter known as avian solid waste. Even still, the statue might have hope in this dark time. Hope that another hero would rise to save the day, hope that the drunken nord nearby might maintain his goodness, and hope that there may yet be hope for the empire after all. The dominion had suffered, and after so long, Tiber Septim himself would cheer with glee to see his followers liberated from the cold irons of Thalmor dungeons once and for all. This hope was a fire akin to the dragonfires of old. This fire was burning, everyone in the land contributing to its eternal flame, and all it needed was one hero to spread its warm blaze afar and reignite the dreams of all suffering within its reach.

[Hastiaka]

Seianacana Aldmeris
Princess in Exile, Southern Skyrim

---

Letter
From: General Ambassador and Spokesperson Aicandaar Garegwyn Aldmeris

---

Beloved sister,

Things aren't good here back home. Imperial Legions have tried to probe our defenses but they were repelled and came back to Cyrodiil in tattered armors. We fear the worst is still coming and the Thalmor Council has ordered me to meet with the Human Emperor by tomorrow. As of this time, i am probably in the camp. I will be staying there for the next two days to discuss with fellow Peacekeepers. You are wanted here, don't go back. But always remember, don't let your Altmer pride fade unto the snow. It's cold there and i wish you would be safe.

I will be sending a letter to the Archmage of the College of Winterhold. Specifically ordering him to give you assistance and to keep it a secret. Stay low profile. Once the Nords realize that you're a princess of Alinor, you will be killed.

Love,
Your Brother.
Gen Amb. Aicandaar Aldmeris.

The message just arrived to Seianacana. She's in Falkreath. Imperial owned lands. Her two followers are still busy trying to secure a carriage to Winterhold. These times are troubling since the Imperial Legion has been busy. Rumors say they're going to invade Valenwood and Elsweyr. No one knows really.

She's been moving from one place to another. Trying to hide from both Humans and the Thalmor. Her brother is her only hope.

[Faal Lot Himdah]

Ja'sari
Ninendava, Jerall Mountains
West of Bruma, Cyrodiil, the Empire

---

Ja'sari's stomach growled almost on que, like it heard the Nord and agreed. Ja'sari just gave a nervous smile, "Ja'sari hasn't had anything to eat since yesterday. Ja'sari needs food."

With that Ja'sari sat down, and opened her own bag, and reached in. She pulled out something wrapped neatly with paper. She unwrapped it to reveal a fair sized piece of cooked meat, "Wild Boar. Ja'sari loves wild boar, do you want some? Ja'sari killed it and cooked it herself."

[The Lendol Archipelago]

Einar Lundson
Ninendava, Jerall Mountains
West of Bruma, Cyrodiil, the Empire

---

Einar accepted the meat, thanking Ja'sari. The pair let a couple of minutes pass in silence, both if them just enjoying the rest and food.

Wow, she's quite the chef Einar thought as he enjoyed the succulent meat. He could tell that she'd had a bit of practice cooking. Despite being given the chance to eat, his head was still on a swivel, looking through the walls for any more undead.

Suddenly, he heard something scuttling! It was a spider. Damnit, Einar thought, I hadn't even been looking for anything living.

"Let me handle this," he said to Ja'sari who seemed almost as shocked as he did.

Turning back to the spider, he decided to try out a new alteration spell. He knocked it away, giving himself some room. Concentrating deeply, but not breaking eye contact, he accessed his magic. After a slightly delay, and much to the shock of Ja'sari, the once angry spider turned into a placid but somewhat confused boar.

Drained but smiling, Einar turned to Ja'sari and simply said "Mi'lady" as he extended his hand, offering her the kill.

[Faal Lot Himdah]

Ja'sari
Ninendava, Jerall Mountains
West of Bruma, Cyrodiil, the Empire

---

Ja'sari just looked at the spider, unimpressed and reached for her sword. Einar stopped her though. So she just sat back and watched. She watched him turn the spider into a boar. She was impressed and shocked, then he offered her the kill. Ja'sari looked into her bag then back at him, yeah, Ja'sari has room.

With that Ja'sari pulled out a crossbow, with a bolt loaded and fired at the boar. The bolt went right into the things side, it ran around for a bit before it dropped dead. Ja'sari then smiled at Einar as she walked up to the now dead boar. She crouched down, and using her sword she started to cut meat off. "Ja'sari is happy for the opportunity, but she is sad that she can't use the entire boar. Such a waste of meat." She said as she carefully packed some meat in her bag.

She then looked at a wall, and noticed something off. A slight discolouration of the stone. It was small and easy to overlook, and as such Ja'sari walked closer to it and investigated. "Interesting, has Einar noticed this before?" She asked pointing to the slight discolouration, and then she pushed on it. It moved.

Ja'sari was overwhelmed with joy as she watched the wall beside her open up, to reveal an old, and unexplored area of the ruin. "A secret door... Ja'sari was right. Come." She said as she walked through the door. On the other side she noticed another button, likely to close the door.

[The Lendol Archipelago]

Einar Lundson
Ninendava, Jerall Mountains
West of Bruma, Cyrodiil, the Empire

---

Einar watched as his new companion carefully took the meat from the boar. As with her cooking, she was obviously well practiced. She had even made a relatively clean kill, she was compassionate for something that had been set on killing her, albeit as a different being.

"At least we're making use of it" Einar replied. He watched as something caught her attention he looked at where Ja'sari was and he saw it. An odd rock, a button.

"No, although I'm glad I didn't" Einar said, wondering if they would have met had he discovered the door. He followed her through into the passage. This one was larger, both in height and width. It was also unlit so he created a small, slow moving ball of light and sent it on his way. He noticed markings on the wall, the Old Elven language spoken by the Ayleid. The little he did manage to decipher told the story that had brought Ja'sari here in the first place. He didn't bother to stop to read in any great detail, knowing that it wouldn't help them much, if they had any need for it, they could come back. For now, he was content to just explore the ruin.

[Faal Lot Himdah]

Ja'sari
Ninendava, Jerall Mountains
West of Bruma, Cyrodiil, the Empire

---

Once Einar entered the corridor, Ja'sari closed the door, "Just in case." She then walked with Einar through the ruin. She saw the inscriptions and easily deciphered it, it was the story of the Duel at Ninendava. "Strange, these inscriptions where made after the fact." She said as she took a close look at them. Someone had been here, after the battle, and recorded it. She continued on the way, Einar following. The corridor eventually opened into one of the largest rooms that Ja'sari had ever seen. The room's ceiling was higher than anywhere else in the ruin. It was also more well lit than anywhere else, there was few shadows. There where stairs that lead up to a raised plat form in the back of the room.

Then there was the skeletons. The room was full of dead skeletons, most where still wearing armor, and had weapons near by. The minority of them where elven skeletons, wearing the armor of the Ayleids. Then there was human skeletons, most wearing crude armor, slaves that had rose up against their masters. Finally, there was the skeletons of elves that where unarmored, civilians, and children. It was a slaughter, anything that was an elf was killed.

"This was the site of the battle, which means... the Altar should be around here somewhere. Ja'sari would think up there." She said as she started to climb the stair case. When she reached the top, she found the Altar, an elven skeleton with a crushed skull was laying beside it. Beside the Altar there was also a strange rune, but that was not what Ja'sari came looking for, she came looking for something else, but she didn't know what it was. She looked to the wall and saw another skeleton, the armor was different, it was Ayleid, but had a different coloring. Then she saw a journal laying beside it. She picked up the journal and skimmed through it. It was in the ancient language of the Ayleids, but Ja'sari was still able to understand it.

"Amazing. Ja'sari had heard rumors, but this proves it. The Alessian Slave Revolt had some assistance by Ayleids. Rouge lords, and this one. The last Ayleid Prince to rule in Cyrodiil, as a vassal of Alessia. As well as the first Ayleid to go rouge. All of it is in here, records of the battles fought in the Slave Revolt, this one's entire life. And how he was betrayed." She said, "Does Einar know how big this is?"

[Alouite]

Marcus Antonius also Mark Antony, Lord of the House of Antony, Thane of Morthal, General of the 7th Army and Regimental Commander of the Imperial Hawks
South of Skingrad
Military Camp along southern Cyrodiil Border
The Empire

---

General Mark Antony stood in a wooden fort with a palisade wall surrounding it surrounded by the shade of olive trees. He looked to his Tribune Aquilo Nero and said "Isn't it a shame that so many would stand in the path of our glorious Empire? Today our men have proven their military capabilities as they have for the last year at the highest level of proficiency. Of the many tactics I've regularly instituted in the 7th Army from the Tortoise formation, to the Wedge, to the new marching positions formulated. I have created the first ever war machine. Before we fought irregularly charging left and right into battle, but now, with the power I wield, I have gifted order to the most disciplined force in the world, and they have learned to honor it."

Tribune Nero replied "General Antony, I could never understand why men would so foolishly take on the Empire as they always have. It's not that I cannot understand why they fight us, I, however, don't entirely understand why they fight us the way they do. Such weak tactics, even the Thalmor are weak, pathetic, and soon they too will fall. However, I believe there once was a movement called the Beautiful, they may still exist in the Summerset Isles, I know your policy on total war, you don't mind it, however, this will allow us to bring total war to a new level entirely. If we could contact a member of the Beautiful whom are a rebellious group that have targeted government officials and landmarks in the Dominion, perhaps we can begin to tip the scales."

General Antony smiled and said "I like these people, opposed to nationalistic elven supremacy. They could make fine allies. Send some scouts to make contact with them. Oh, and have Legate Lucius Scipio speak with me from the Imperial Hawk Regiment come speak to me, and I suppose also our charge cavalry under Legate Quintus Volcanus's Dark Lightning Cavalry Regiment should be here as well. I would like to speak about proposed tactics for the upcoming war with the Dominion, we could take on a Dominion force three times the size of our own and still have enough men to be considered a regiment or two along with a few broken centuries, but I also would like to send a request to the Emperor to send additional forces either under my command or under another Army's command, as long as it isn't Gnaeus Orestes and his 4th Army, his men are only suitable to march, not fight war. In fact why wait. Call my couriers in."

Tribune Nero walked outside of the building and shouted "Couriers, fall in!" The couriers ran to the door of the General before slowing down, the guards at the door opened it for them and they walked in in single file.

General Antony said "There they are. My messengers at arms. I have a few messages for you to relay two short distance within this fort, and one to the Emperor, all in word for now. Tell Legate Scipio and Volcanus to report to me later today, courier Cossus, I will give you a message to relay to the Emperor, ride on horseback to get to him I'll grant you a steed from my general bodyguards' stable. This is the message 'General Marcus Antonnius is requesting additional forces, whether that be in the form of reassigned regiments from other armies, or the reassignment of a fellow Legion army, he is beginning to see the war with the Dominion as upcoming and would like to have a sufficient force to rid them from Tamriel and hold the line at the southern sea until reinforcements along with the Imperial Navy arrive for an invasion of the Summerset Isles.' Now all of you are dismissed." The couriers leave the tent for their destinations.

[The Lendol Archipelago]

Einar Lundson
Ninendava, Jerall Mountains
West of Bruma, Cyrodiil, the Empire

---

Einar saw the bodies, clothed in various armours and clothes. He and Ja'sari both looked around in silence, with Ja'sari eventually breaking the silence.

"That would make sense" he replied, his affirmation was useless as she was already climbing the steps. He followed suit, immediately noticing the rune. He stopped, quickly taking out his journal. He made a quick yet detailed sketch of the rune, being careful to not go too close but close enough to take in every detail.

To think I'd been so close to leaving, meeting Ja'sari really has been a stroke of luck Einar thought, glad for her help.

Having finally got everything he needed from the rune, he carefully dispelled it and answered Ja'sari.

"Yes, it's gigantic. This could change a lot. We have to make sure that this gets into the right hands" He said, hoping that they both understood the gravity of what they'd found. "We need to make sure that the truth is known."

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

Gordhaur the Shaper
Ninendava, Jerall Mountains
West of Bruma, Cyrodiil, the Empire

---

It was madness. The slaves had revolted, and now they were here. The humans, Colovians led by their mad rebel-queen. They were here. Surrounded by the last few of his guard that remained, and several civilians, children among them, the Ayleid watched as the slaves entered, wearing their crude armor and bearing their crude weapons. At their front, he stood. Clad in armor that no smith yet could fashion, a diamond soaked with the blood of Gordhaur's kin, his hand made of a killing light, The Star Made Knight barged into the room, the doors flying open, the two soldiers that had stood in front of it smashed aside by the Crusader's blade and mace. Following him came the hordes of slaves, running - seemingly much to the frustration of the Crusader - ahead of their leader, jumping on the Ayleid soldiers, their former masters.

He could not stand for this. Gordhaur the Shaper, master of Ninendava, joined the fight against the rebel vermin. The Shaper's weapon, an Ayleid blade of the finest quality, ran red with the blood if humans as he cut them by the droves. He was not the only one that was cutting his foes down as if it were nothing. Gordhaur's weapon almost dropped out of his hands as he saw what was happening - Pelinal was trying to reach him, but found his path obstructed, and in his rage he was cutting through the civilians, even the children, screaming something about them being "Slavering filth". The Shaper was furious at the human's insolence, the creature even thinking he was permitted to be free, let alone kill his masters! Gordhaur pushed his foe, some sort of human woman clad in makeshift iron armor, away from him, her head crushed against the wall, advancing on the Crusader, surrounded by a pool of blood and mauled bodies. The man noticed. The armored man turned towards him, blasting another Ayleid out of Gordhaur's path with his killing light, part of the Elf's body turned into ashes.

"Foul monster," the Star Made Knight boomed in an unnatural voice, "your death has come." Before Gordhaur could react, he charged towards the Ayleid King. For what seemed like ages they fought, oblivious of the battle that played out around them, until finally, the Knight managed to smash the Ayleid's blade out his sand, sending it to the other side of the chamber. Before he could react, Gordhaur's helmet, shaped in the fashion of an Auroran's war-plate, was hit by a mace, shattering the master-crafted helmet's front. The Shaper was sent several steps backwards by the impact, using the precious time it gave him to pull it off. As he looked in front of him, he saw him there, standing. "Do your job, Pelinal." he spoke in the human's crude language, mockingly pronouncing Pelinal as he fell onto his knees, exhausted. The Shaper waited for the blow of the Crusader's sword or mace to arrive, but it did not happen. Instead, when he looked up, he saw the knight's inhuman helmet looking down towards him, and before he knew it, he felt pain he did not know that could be felt arrive in his right eye, getting more intense with every moment as the Star Made Knight pushed his armored finger deeper into the socket, before hurling Gordhaur by it towards the alter at the center of the room, the Crusader roaring in triumph as he grabbed the Shaper's head, and smashed it against the alter. And again. And again. And again, until his face was almost no more.

There, Gordhaur the Shaper's life faded, his life slipping away as he was dropped onto the ground, shocked that he, a man so mighty, had been beaten by but a slave. He could do nothing but watch in horror as Pelinal, uttering a furious grunt, began casting a spell, forming a plague on his body. No. The monster was using magic of the foulest kind to prevent him from using the welkynd stones... No.

Gordhaur the Shaper died alone, his head naught but pulp, smashed upon his own goat-faced alter. Defiled.

---

Defilement. Something stirred. Something, someone, had dared defile the rest of Gordhaur the Shaper, he who was but short of a living god! Who had dared break his slumber? Who had dared wake him up! It felt that it's body was no longer beautiful, no longer resplendent in its attire, all rotten away. It's mouth fell open, a long, loud breath leaving it, smelling of the plague itself. Slowly, it rose, the once beautiful blade floating towards its master, awake once more. It spoke, its voice echoing across the room.

"Trespassers! You have defiled the eternal rest of Gordhaur the Shaper! You shall die for your insolence."

[The Krogan]

Imperial Province of Skyrim: Riften
Night time

Shitshitshit!!!

The sound of the breaking glass filled Ragnar's ears as he went flying through the ground floor window of the inn, instantly getting several cuts across his face and body from broken shards. He landed hard when he hit the ground, leaving him gasping for air as he rolled onto his back in case anyone jumped through after him, and was proven right. A khajiit wielding a knife in either paw nimbly jumped through the window after him, hoping to catch him off-guard and skewer him. Bracing himself, Ragnar put his legs together and raised them into the air catching the khajiit mid-flight; the two stared at each other for a second before he launched his assailant into over the nearby railing and into the canal below. As he got back to his feet, he looked over the railing and smiled, the khajiit was wailing pathetically as it tried to pull itself out of the water.

"Hahaha ohhhh did little kitty wiity get all wet?" he said with a chuckle while turning towards the gates to get out of Riften.

Yeah this was definitely a trap, didn't think the thieves guild would still be sore over that crap all those years ago, Ragnar thought to himself. He had originally come to Riften to pursue a bounty that had been to good to pass up, and apparently to good to be true. It turned out the man that he had been contracted to go after was in fact pursuing the thieves guild's contract on Ragnar with a few of his buddies, making things quite awkward. As he began to jog run towards the gates, the rest of the crew pursuing him burst out of the inn and right into his path, brandishing weapons and yelling curses at him.

Yeah, definitely need to get out of here before the guards are forced to involve themselves because of these idiots yelling... Either way, both groups will turn me over to the guild, he thought to himself, while slipping his war axe out of it's strap. Ragnar broke into a full on sprint down the walkway towards the three goons, opting for a lightning strike attack then a brawl since he had left his heavy armor in the stables outside the gates.

The first man was wielding a morning star, and was slowly swing it through the air as Ragnar came at him, and the second he was in range the man swung with all his might. Unfortunately for bounty hunter, his timing was slightly off, and Ragnar took full advantage of that; slipping under the murderous ball of metal, Ragnar smashed is war axe into the man shin, cracking bone and slicing through flesh. As the man collapsed to the ground in a scream of pain, Ragnar was already moving on to the next target, another man armed with a short-sword. He barely avoided being skewered by the enemies thrust, but instead of jumping back to avoid it, he moved forwards and grabbed the mans sword arm, ending up getting a shallow cut across his ribs in return. Ragnar stepped into the man and delivered a powerful elbow strike to his targets throat, crushing the windpipe and sending the bounty hunter crashing through the wooden railing and into the canal below.

Not wishing to lose his momentum, Ragnar launched himself at the third hostile; another khajiit armed with a sword and a shield. The khajiit blocked Ragnar's initial attacks with ease and retaliated with some lightning quick jabs with his sword, which put him on the defensive. Shit, I need to end this quickly before that other cat stabs me in the back or the guards come, time to go berserk on this guy he thought to himself. Taking one step back, Ragnar took a deep breath, and let out an ear splitting war cry that caused the khajiit to flinch and hesitate in his attack. With adrenaline screaming through his veins, Ragnar let loose with a flurry of attacks on his enemy, leaving the khajiit cowering behind his shield as Ragnar smashed it to bit with his axe, sending wood chips flying in all direction. Once his enemy was to afraid to even look around his shield to see what Ragnar was up to, the Nord decided it was time to get out. He delivered a powerful kick to the remnants of his opponents shield, sending the khajiit flying backwards through the air and landing with a loud thump, leaving the cat stunned.

"Yeah take that kitty!" Ragnar yelled as he jumped over the stunned khajiit and ran off towards the gates of the city, slowing to a walk as they came into sight. There were two guards standing side by side at the gate, a man and a women as far as he could tell, trying to keep each other awake by talking. Ragnar quickly put on an air of authority, and walked towards the pair with purpose, hoping they wouldn't question his need to leave the city in the middle of the night.

As he approached the two he said, "Oi there! I'm a messenger from the Jarl on important business, gotta get through aye" with an authoritative voice.

The male guard looked at him suspiciously and asked, "Got your papers to prove it?"

Ughhhh freaking papers... this was getting boring anyway, Ragnar thought to himself before saying, "Oh yeah, got them rightttt here".

He rooted around through his pockets for a second, and upon pulling out his hand gave the guard the finger, and kicked him right in the manhood. While the man doubled over in pain, tears streaming down his face, Ragnar smashed the blunt end of his war axe over the women's helmet, instantly knocking her unconscious, before giving the male guard the same treatment. He then pushed his way through the heavy wooden gate and ran towards the stables whistling for his horse, who smashed through the stable door seconds later, trotting towards him.

"Good girl! who's my badass horsey huh? who's my badass horsey? it's you! it's you!" he said in an annoyingly cute voice while he checked to make sure all his gear was in place, and upon confirming, it was mounted his horse. As he got onto the road in front of the gatehouse, he saw that the place was turning into an ants nest as guards were running along the walls and starting to burst froth from the gates. With a grin plastered across his face, Ragnar made his horse rear dramatically and said.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you will always remember this as the day you almost caught Ragnar G... Ahhhhh son of a bitch!" Ragnar yelled in pain and rage as his epic line was interrupted by an arrow burying itself in his shoulder, quickly followed by another that impaled itself into the meat of his thigh. His horse instantly bolted off the road and into the brush as arrows began to rain down all around them, and to make matters even worse, he smacked his head into a hanging tree limb, knocking himself unconscious. He was able to stay in the saddle though by some miracle, but his horse was now careening through the forest in the dead of night without someone to guide her.

[Faal Lot Himdah]

Ja'sari
Ninendava, Jerall Mountains
West of Bruma, Cyrodiil, the Empire

---

Ja'sari was at first frozen by fear as the Ayleid King rose. The sword of Gordhaur floated into the skeleton's hand. It was beautiful, and could fetch a good price. Ja'sari broke from her frozen fear and focused. Grodhaur might have been a threat when he was living, but now, he is nothing but a skeleton, she told herself as she drew her sword. How could he rise? The stories state that The Divine Crusader used a spell to prevent Gordhaur from rising... but how has he risen? she asked herself, taking a quick look around. There must have been something that kept the spell active...

Ja'sari then looked at Einar, he was holding the strange rune she saw earlier. There... she thought. "Einar, did he do anything to that rune? If he did, can he possible reverse it?" she asked and then she looked to Grodhaur, "Hey, Ja'sari can't even call this one ugly, this one has no face. Ja'sari feels sorry for this one... not." She said as she slashed Grodhaur, quickly and precisely, and then backing off, trying to draw his attention.

[The Lendol Archipelago]

Einar Lundson
Ninendava, Jerall Mountains
West of Bruma, Cyrodiil, the Empire

Like Ja'sari, Einar also froze. He was initially shocked by the dramatic rise of Gordhaur, then he was in awe. This was the last thing I expected from today. Einar's mind then went to what may have caused it, he looked down at the rune. By the divines, that rune wasn't just for protecting his corpse, it was ensuring he stayed dead

"Well, if you wanna rise again, we'll follow suit" Einar said as he resurrected the rogue Ayleid Prince. The Prince didn't hesitate before charging at his enemy. But if he's been beaten once, then he can be beaten again. Luckily, the same goes for our foe.

Einar, after circling around to find a better angle, began throwing careful balls of fire and bolts of ice and lightning as Ja'sari kept her distance, using her crossbow. The Prince, unsullied by fear and instead invigorated by the same purpose that killed him, attacked relentlessly, never giving his foe a second to breathe. Ja'sari and Einar were both hesitant to get too close. He was also hesitant to use the rune, they knew nothing about it's powers. Einar decided see if they could survive without it. After a couple minutes of solid fighting, they began to feel drained. Even their undead ally seemed to be slowing, although that could have been attributed to his missing arm. Gordhaur, with endless scorch marks, arrows and wounds eventually triumphed over his opponent, lopping the Prince's head off. The Ayleid King then turned to Ja'sari and slowly stalked towards her like had all the time in the world.

"NOO!" Einar boomed, his voice echoing through the ruins. He knocked the King off his feet with an unstoppable stream of fire, he then knew what must be done. Focusing completely on his mental image of the rune, he cast it on the ground where the Dead Elf King lay, fully encircling him. Einar could only pray that it worked.

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

Gordhaur the Shaper
Ninendava, Jerall Mountains
West of Bruma, Cyrodiil, the Empire

---

Gordhaur was furious. They had disturbed him, the mighty Shaper, from his rest, and now they would not accept their suitable punishment. They attacked him, and spoke in some sort of dialact of the language the slaves spoke. Had Pelinal prevailed? Where were his fellow Ayleid? Why was he not in a tomb fitting of one of his stature? Gordhaur the Shaper had many questions, all of them only furthering his anger. A blade hit him, cutting through his battered and ancient armor, but he did not feel pain. He was dead. Fire, ice, and lightning began to hit his broken body, but he felt nothing. He laughed, harshly, as he cut through the crumbled body of another Ayleid, a traitor to his race, he faintly recalled. The head of the ancient prince was lodged off the rest of the body.

The Shaper spotted something, attached to the traitor's chest. Reaching out, he grabbed the object, a faintly glowing stone, before he was lodged of his feet by a stream of fire. Rising, he grinned. A welkynd stone. He laughed, again, as he began draining the stone of its power, funneling it into his own body. He felt powerful. He felt... Something was wrong. He felt something rising, through his throat. It hurt. In front of him, he saw green fumes rising from his mouth. Plague. There was something else. A rune. It... held him. Gordhaur cursed in Ayleid as he fell onto his knees, the toxic green fumes of the Star Made Knight's spell surrounding him.

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

Remaunes Cardes III
White-Gold Tower, The Imperial City
Cyrodiil, The Empire

---

Remaunes Cardes, third of his name, watched as the newly arrived courier spoke. "General Marcus Antonius is requesting additional forces, whether that be in the form of reassigned regiments from other armies, or the reassignment of a fellow Legion army, he is beginning to see the war with the Dominion as upcoming and would like to have a sufficient force to rid them from Tamriel and hold the line at the southern sea until reinforcements along with the Imperial Navy arrive for an invasion of the Summerset Isles." He nodded, thinking for a moment before replying to the courier. "Tell General Antonius that more legionaries cannot be spared as it would either weaken the forces stationed along the border, or decrease the numbers of the reserves. However, you will also tell him that I have petitioned the College of Whispers and the Synod to spare him several of their mages, to aid him with whatever he needs doing." He gave a nod to two runners standing in the corner, both of them running off towards the College of Whispers and the Synod respectively. "These mages shall travel with you. You will wait for them at outside of the palace, they shall be brought to you shortly - both of these institutes of magic still owe me." With a brush of his hand, he dismissed the courier, bidding him to wait outside until the mages arrived, to be sent back to General Marcus Antonius towards the border South of Skingrad.



Esthael Cardes
Aleswell Inn, Aleswell
Cyrodiil, The Empire

---

Aleswell was a small, quiet town to the north of the Imperial City, mainly populated by farmers. It was completely unremarkable but for the stories of the Hero of Kvatch lifting some sort of curse cast on the town by an experimenting wizard a good 300 years before. The following 300 years were boring, the only thing that happened of some importance being the events that transpired there during the Great War, the Dunmer innkeep and his twin sisters (Esthael had heard some very saucy rumors about those two) were hanged along with the rest of the town's population for refusing to serve the Dominion. Now, however, all was good again, the town bigger than ever (although still very small) with a full eleven buildings, one of which was the inn Esthael and Cullagia now found themselves.

The two sat in a corner of the Aleswell Inn, Esthael already having had her dinner, while Cullagia was still eating, the Breton she was protecting looking in another direction with a smile. Eating without most of one's tongue was quite hard - you had to put your food behind your teeth, making for quite a disgusting way of eating, something the Penitus Oculatus Legate was quite ashamed of, thus facing the wall. Esthael, meanwhile, looked towards all the other people in the inn, smiling. She didn't mind Cullagia's manner of eating - she'd just look in another direction and nothing was wrong. They had ridden for most of the day at a quiet, comfortable pace, Esthael speaking about all manner of things to the Legate, who couldn't reply but didn't seem to mind. This certainly is very different, the Breton thought as she studied the comings and goings inside the tavern, but it's nice, I guess. The two had hired a room for the night - the only one available - for only 10 Septims, a very low price according to Esthael, who had expected it to cost around 50 Septims for a night. Either way, the two had to share one room, and one bed, for the night. That would be a bit of a problem. It was a small bed, she'd learned, meant for only one person. At first she'd thought that meant it'd be like her bed which was still able to accommodate quite some people, but she'd soon learned that that wasn't really the case. A smaller bed than usual, and I even have to share it! Nevertheless, that wouldn't stop her from enjoying adventuring. So far, the Emperor's cousin had quite enjoyed it, and this certainly wouldn't make her stop having fun. Raising her hand, she let one of the tavern wenches bring her another bottle of wine. If adventuring was always like this, she'd never return home!

[Faal Lot Himdah]

Ja'sari
Ninendava, Jerall Mountains
West of Bruma, Cyrodiil, the Empire

---

Ja'sari watched as Einar rose the rouge Ayleid prince, Necromancy... Ja'sari won't judge, Ja'sari said. She watched from a safe distance as the two undead Ayleids went at each other. At first it looked as if the rouge would win, but then everything took a turn for the worse. Gordhaur cut the rouge appart and the grabbed something from it's chest. It's over, Ja'sari figured.

Then something good happened, Gordhaur fell and looked to be dieing, again. She then looked at Einar, who seemed to have reactivated the rune. Ja'sari knew it, Ja'sari knew that rune was the reason, she said to herself. "Einar, what ever he is doing, keep it up. Gordhaur is being weakened." she said as she restarted a barrage of attacks on the weakened Ayleid, avoiding to breath the gas that surrounded it.

[Arlye Austros]

Harald Firebeard.
Company of the White Wraiths.
North of the Imperial City

"I hate this." Hrothmund complained, frowning as they descended into the Valley. The city laid ahead, and the lance in its center became a sight. Harald smiled. His brother had complained for a bit too long, but it still amused him.

"I know, I know... <<It´s too hot, it´s too wet, it´s too green.>> Don´t be such a milkdrinker and man up, brother."

At his sixteen, Hrothmund had been unable to become the Warrior their father wanted them to be. However he had turned out to be smart, and good with managing things, gold, weapons, supplies, people, time. His head could calculate not only numbers, but movements, and many times he had taken part on his plans before battle, even as young as fourteen. They were so different, and somehow that was good.

Harald, on the other side, was reckless, and his brother tempered his actions, contained his stubborn nature and saved his skin not few times. At his twenty seven he owed his life to his brother more than once. Last time he would have sent his men, with himself in the front, against a camp of bandits. the camp seemed undefended, but Hrothmund managed to see beyond the obvious. There were traps around the pallisade, and the archers were too well placed. Had they charged, he would have become the last Firebeard. But his brother loved Harald too much and desired power so little to do such a thing.

The company had been taking off their coats and armour long ago, and seemed like an imperial host returning from Skyrim a hundred years ago, with a terrible shake and scrapped armour, salvaged form bodies. His men looked much less than they were in the Jerall.

"Can we continue till sunset?" He asked Hrothmund. The boy thought for a while. "We should be able to camp by the edge of Rumare a bit after nightfall. I don´t think we can be attacked by bandits so far south."

"Indeed, this empire has done things right."

The night, as Hrothmund predicted, was spent in the edges of the Rumare itself, however about a rock-hurl from the deep waters, as some swamps occupied the border of the lake and it would be unwise to sleep in such conditions. They welcomed the dawn with some fish five men had collected from a nearby stream, and they added some bread from the supplies carried by nordic horses. They entered the Red Ring Road and now could move much faster. By noon they were entering the Imperial City. the military movement was obvious.

"Make a camp outside, I will go in alone." He ordered his men. "Only my brother shall come."

His Quartemaster, Ralof, agreed and started to lift an improvised camp some distance from the road. Harald and Hrothmund took some of the horses and rode to the Imperial City, crossing the gates, with armour and all, and heading to the White-Gold Tower. He approached some of the guards around.

"Sir, what must the chief of a mercenary company do to go under the service of the Emperor in the coming conflict?"

[The Lendol Archipelago]

Einar Lundson
Ninendava, Jerall Mountains
West of Bruma, Cyrodiil, the Empire

Reinvigorated by the fact that they seemed to be winning, Einar renewed his assault. Now firing indiscriminately without the fear of friendly fire, Einar was managing to do major damage to the Ayleid. Ja'sari continued her attack with her crossbow. How much longer until she runs out of bolts, Einar thought, we'd better end this quickly. Einar, having noticed that their foe was attempting to stand stepped closer, switching to lightning. This paralysed the king while also damaging him. After what felt like an eternity, the king slumped forward, hopefully dead. For safe measures, Einar conjured a short sword and stabbed him through the heart. If that wasn't enough what is? Einar thought.

"Are you alright?" Einar asked, looking at Ja'sari.

[Krugmar]

Ulwaen
Weye, Imperial City
Cyrodiil, the Empire

---

The village of Weye seemed rather small to Ulwaen, though perhaps that was a result of resting next to one of the grandest cities in all of Tamriel. He slowly strolled through the empty street towards the bridge, pushing himself along with his staff needlessly. His white hood was draped over his elongated face, covering most of it in darkness though his eerily bright orange eyes shone through. The Imperials stood at the bridge, a patrol taking a rest before they returned to the city, quickly pushed themselves to their feet and stopped him. "What is your business in the Imperial City elf?" said one of the guards, a young looking Colovian who looked to be the officer amongst them.

"Elf? I do not see any elf here, soldier" replied Ulwaen, his voice slowly deepening and seemingly stretching and becoming far more akin to the low tone of a Breton than the high, arrogant tone of an Altmer. Within less than a second the group of guards were looking at what looked to be a well dressed and elderly Breton noble leaning upon a small cane.

"Oh, uhh" mumbled the officer, confusion racking his brain for several moments, "My apologies Sir, in this light it looked like- never mind. May I ask who you are?".

"I am Dandre Amnis, Baron of Valhollow" he replied confidently, before producing several documents 'proving' the authenticity of his claim. Valhollow didn't exist of course, but the documents, enchanted paper which would wear away with time, were convincing in placing it somewhere in the mess that made up the High Rock aristocracy.

"Apologies m'lord, you can enter straight away" replied the Colovian, making his patrol clear the way for the elderly Breton to enter the city. The disguise was largely unnecessary, but it saved hours of haggling and explaining to the guards of his true intentions. Altmer weren't trusted in Cyrodiil as they once had been, the same went for the mages of their society as the citizens of the Empire likely believed all Altmer mages were Thalmor agents. Ulwaen was definitely not Thalmor, but few understood or cared about the differences between Altmer sects anymore.

He made his way through the bustling streets of the city, heading towards the Palace. The Emperor had the resources that Ulwaen needed, and the mind of a mere man which needed council. Unfortunately men tended to panic when encountered with deception, and this disguise would have to be shed in his meeting with the Emperor. A Psijic was not without tricks, however. The Imperial Guards surrounding the White-Gold Tower, wearing a finely crafted armour that Ulwaen thought rivaled elven craftsmanship, stopped him before learning of his name, title and documents. He was admitted to the tower, and told to wait while a message was sent to the Emperor.

Waiting in the tower was a strange experience, wondering how many Kings and Emperors had reined from these halls, not knowing the importance of the tower or what it stood for. With the Amulet of Kings destroyed it now stood as the symbol of Imperial authority, though that was a concept that had only recently been revitalised by the Cardes dynasty. A dynasty he had yet to meet.

[The NAR]

Praefect Marcus Augustine
7th Imperial Legion, Southern Cyrodiil

---

After dropping off the letter from the Thalmor which was likely just logistics of troop movements near the border, Marcus reported to the barracks, where a few Soldiers were lounging around, drinking ale or wresting. Most being Auxiliaries or Quaestors, it was expected of them to salute, but Marcus never made them son that unless it was a training exercise. Marcus sat down on his bed and sighed, wiping sweat off his forehead, and then pouring himself a tall cup of water. He didn't drink on the job, he didn't want to be drunk when the Dominion inevitably attacked.

Though, Marcus was so thirty that he downed the entire cup in just a few seconds, and slammed it on the table, wiping his mouth off and sighing. It was uncomfortable, waiting for the Dominion to make their move. Any second they could shatter the walls of the Empire and make a push towards the Heart of the Empire... Divines help the Imperials when they do. Marcus fell back onto his bed, closing his eyes and felt himself close to drifting to sleep, but the loud opening and distinctive slam of the barracks door. The loud clang of boots forced his eyes open, and Marcus sat up to see what the commotion was. An official man in an Official Uniform looked around the room, with the Imperial Dragon Symbol in the middle of his chest.

All at once, all the Soldiers in the room, Marcus included, stood up and saluted the man with their right hand. The man, obviously high-ranking and stuck up, showed no expression, but spoke out in a High Class accent. "I'm looking for a Praefect Marcus Augustine. Is he here?". Marcus turned to the men and nodded, and they sat back down.

"I'm Praefect Marcus Augustine, sir". The officer turned and nodded, handing Marcus a very official looking envelope.

"From High Command, the details are classified. You'll have to read for yourself. However, what isn't classified is that you're overdue for leave. Pack your things, you'll be going home for a month". With that, the Officer turned and exited the room, and Marcus looked curiously down at the envelope with the Imperial Seal printed on the front. Marcus resisted the urge to open it just yet, tucking it in his satchel and standing up, then proceeding outside to speak with the

[Camicon]

*snip* "Who are you, mister? And, uh, I want to thank you for dealing with them. I owe you a barrel of mead at this point."

Hjolfr Ice-Heart
North-East of Mixwater Mill, Eastmarch, Skyrim

"Hah! My name is Hjolfr Ice-Heart! Student of the College of Winterhold, Companion of Jorrvaskr, Son of Skyrim!" Hjolfr sauntered over to the severed giant's head, picking it back up by the hair and giving it a swing. He turned back to Vorid, dropping his voice into a conspiratorial tone "And, apparently, a giant slayer. Hah!"

Now that she was sitting up, Hjolfr gave the young woman a more considered once over. She was wearing what appeared to be an old Stormcloak uniform; it matched the one on display in Jorrvaskr, at least. A bow was strung across her back, some kind of nordic design, and a steel dagger was strapped to her hip. By the structure of her face he could tell that she was a Nord, like himself, though unlike him her hair was a brilliant red. Uncommon colour that was, for a Nord.

"You are young to be travelling on your own. I am going back to Whiterun myself, if you are going d'at way as well d'en I would be welcome for d'e company. D'ere are only so many songs I remember d'e words to."

[Faal Lot Himdah]

Ja'sari
Ninendava, Jerall Mountains
West of Bruma, Cyrodiil, the Empire

---

Ja'sari looked to Einar, "Ja'sari is fine... Does Einar realize what we did? We fought and defeated a being that the Divine Crusader killed... That was amazing!" She said with joy. She then noticed a large chest, she walked up to it and opened it, "Einar... Ja'sari has found shiny things. A lot of shiny things."

With that she reached into it and started to empty the chest, Ja'sari could run and take all of this, Ja'sari can make a lot of money, but.... she thought as she looked to Einar, Ja'sari doesn't want to betray him, he has only been nice to Ja'sari... Ja'sari will share. She laid down everything from the chest on the ground. There was a handful of jewels, four Welkeynd Stones, a set of Ayleid armor (undamaged by the look of it), and a slightly damaged and rusty Enchanted Elven sword.

"Ja'sari thinks we should split up the loot." Ja'sari said to Einar, "Ja'sari will take the jewels, and two of these Welkeynd stones. Einar looks like he needs armor, so he can have the armor, and the other two Welkeynd stones. We can sell the sword and split the profit of the sword. Does that please Einar's ears?" She asked, looking at him, waiting for a response. "Ja'sari also thinks that Einar should leave the rune here and we should keep this place secret. To protect other people, and prevent Gordhaur from ever having a chance to return. Does Einar agree?"

[The Warriors of the Sun]

General Laurence Willheim
Valenwood-Cyrodiil Border
Valenwood, The Aldmeri Dominion

---

Laurence got off his horse after arriving at one of the many stables at the camp to house the many horses being housed within it's walls. Getting through the gate was quick, which was one of the few upsides to the Dominion's almost natural discrimination against humans, he rarely had to waste time with formalities and greetings with other military commanders as they would have little interest in addressing a human. An assumedly low-ranking Kajhiit soldier immediately came up and began attending to his horse allowing Laurence to immediately head to his daughter's horse and help her off.

"There we go Gemma," said Laurence letting go of her daughter after her feet touched the ground. "Do you have your things?" asked Laurence which was met with an exaggerated nod of his daughter's head and a "mhmm". "Good, remember to stay in my sight. Let's go," finished Laurence as he began to walk away from the stables to find the commander of the base or whoever was highest ranking with his daughter following close behind, tightly hugging two books.

As he walked towards what seemed to be the commander's quarters he spotted the banners of the Thalmor, specifically that of their diplomatic branch and one of their nobility. While technically the base commander probably still had seniority, no one was going to cross the Thalmor and if this diplomat lived up to the stereotype of the Thalmor that so many others gladly upheld, he would be the unofficial authority figure as long as he or she was here. While when he served under the Empire he wouldn't bother with a diplomat or noble, this was different. His life was now on the line if he didn't appear to be loyal to not just the Dominion, but The Thalmor as well. So against his natural instincts he approached the banners to meet this likely Altmer noble.

Before approaching the guards, who appeared to be more of those peacekeepers that seemed to saturate Marbruk, he stopped. He wasn't a fan of these enforcers of loyalty, mostly because they weren't under his command. If he led them they would be a powerful tool, but sine they were not until the time being they were just short of being an enemy to a man like Laurence. "Gemma, it is important you stay right next to me, you understand? We are going to be talking to a very important noble..." Gemma's face immediately lit up at the idea of meeting an elven prince or princess, Laurence had sheltered his daughters from most nobles and the few Thalmor officials who actually met Laurence's daughters fortunately were the kind who were a bit more tactful than their comrades leading a fairly unrealistic romanticization of elven nobility by his daughters. "...so be respectful and do not speak unless you are addressed, can you do that?"

"Yes father," replied his now excited daughter who couldn't seem to hide her joy as he father approached one of the guards who had quite the opposite feelings towards meeting a Thalmor.

Laurence, in his blackened elven armor trimmed with green glass and bearing a golden seal of the Thalmor upon his chest, approached one of the peacekeepers and said, "General Laurence Willheim would like to request an audience with the noble you are guarding to announce the arrival of my troops and learn the situation of this camp, border and whatever else I need to know and hear." Laurence's tone started official, but quickly trailed off to a mixture of monotone and annoyance as he would've normally just walked straight past the guards to address the noble directly. But he was sure these upholders of loyalty would strike any man down who did such a thing.