It started out a normal enough night. The two moons hung high in the sky; a few clouds passed by, hinting of rain but making no promises. The warm, moist late summer air hit me immediately as I left the guard tower. I noted that it was a particularly quiet evening, only the usual chirping of the crickets and the muffled laughter coming from the nearby taverns accompanied the crunching of grass under my boots. I unconsciously gripped the hilt of my sword as I walked to my post at the main gate. Walking by the statue of Antus Pinder, I gave a glance to the familiar figure. One thing I never understood was why Pinder was regarded as such a hero. He had committed suicide by going through with the attack, and had led his men into certain death. When one is overwhelmed as he was, would it not be a better plan to just flee? "He that fights and runs away, lives to fight another day" as they say. Of course, I never actually voiced my views on this, as I was the only one who held them, and I wanted to keep my job.

The other guard nodded to me as I took my usual post and leaned against the wall. Tonight I was on duty with one of the newer ones, a young, ambitious Imperial by the name of Cintilius Quinnis. He was enthusiastic, a bit overconfident perhaps, but all around not a bad person. He glanced at me, doing his best to hold a tough, disaffected expression. "Quiet night, eh?" He asked.

I glanced around, hiding a smile. "The usual. You do not get much excitement in these parts, only the occasional drunken wizard or lone bandit. If you want excitement, the Imperial Legion is where to go." I said the last part softly, almost to myself. I had always wanted to join the Legion, but the recruiter had laughed at me when I had tried to sign up a few years back. "Go get some real training, and then maybe we will find some use for you."

And so here I was, a simple guard in the town of Kvatch, getting some 'training'. Although I daresay standing in the same place for eight hours and trying to look tough does not really qualify. I craved some real action, some real excitement, but was forced to live the fact that I would likely never see any. I realized I had been lost in thought and that Cintilius had been speaking. I nodded and made a sound of agreement, pretending I had been listening.

"…So when my brother gains another rank in the fighter's guild, he says he will try and convince our mum to let him join the guards. She doesn't want him to, already worried enough about me, she says. But I think she will."

I mumbled an agreement, and he faded off into thought. Pretty soon, all was quiet except the sounds of the horses in the stables outside the gates. Oddly, they were whinnying and stomping their feet more than usual. I paid it no mind, but when it continued for nearly ten minutes I became worried.

"Do you hear that?" I asked Cintilius.

"Hmm?" He asked vaguely. He blinked. "I mean what, sir?"

I shook my head. At any other time, I would have been amused, but I felt something was wrong. "The horses in the stable."

"What about them?"

"Don't they sound nervous to you?"

He stopped to listen for a moment. "I suppose." He saw the look on my face and continued before I could say anything. "I'll go check on them."

I nodded. He slipped out the front gates and I waited somewhat anxiously. I slipped my sword a few inches out of its sheath and gripped the hilt. Its familiar feel was comforting.

Taking a breath, I realized I was tense. I forced my body to relax and leaned back against the wall. Why was I so on edge? Nothing had happened, only the horses were a bit loud. Probably a wolf nearby. Nothing Cintilius could not take care of. But I could not help thinking that something bad was going to happen.

The horses had quieted down. Another guard a friend of mine, Terentian, passed by on his rounds and we chatted a little about common matters. Eventually, I began to get worried that Cintilius had yet to return. I decided to go look for him, so I turned around and pulled open the city gate. I looked up, and I found myself staring directly into the depths of Hell.

For a moment, I could not react. I stared in to the cold eyes of the daedra –scamps, dremora, and many more that I had no name for – and they stared back. Then, as if on cue, they charged.

My sword was half-way out of its sheath when I was thrown back by a wave of heat. My head hit something hard and I blacked out.

When I regained consciousness a few moments later, it was utter chaos. The nearest building, a mages guild, had caught fire, and people were running everywhere, screaming. By some ironic stroke of luck, I still held my sword, for what good it would do me. Adrenaline pumped through my veins and I could only focus on one thing.

Kill the Daedra.

With one strike I took out a nearby scamp – a particularly small one – and charged into the chaos. A dremora in robes was engaged in a spell casting duel with one of the mages guild members, still in her nightclothes. With as much force as I could muster, I drove my blade into his back. My aim was off and I missed anything vital (do dremora even have vital organs?). I withdrew my blade as he was turning around.

I dove to the side to avoid his spell, a fireball that whizzed above my head and smashed into the chapel. I rolled to my feet and cut the dremora down before he could utter another incantation. I stabbed him once more to make sure he was dead, when I heard a scream.

I turned to see the mage from before disappearing under the attacks of three clannfear. Before I could move towards her, a blade struck me sideways in the back, narrowly avoiding my neck. I hit the ground and rolled immediately to see a sword land exactly where my head had been just a moment before. The dremora's sword stuck in the muddy ground I took the opportunity to drive my blade through his chest twice, and then cut off his head with a single blow.

I scrambled over a broken barrel to stop and stare in horror at what was left of the mage. Dead would be an incredible understatement, and only her clothes were left to distinguish her from any of the other blackened corpses lying about.

I had been distracted by the body and when a clannfear hit me from behind, I was taken unawares. I turned and slashed at him, trying to ignore the burning pain in my arm from a new deep cut. As I slashed at the clannfear, I could hear the screams of women, the cries of children, the clinking of blades, and a seemingly distant voice calling "This way! Follow me to the chapel!"

And that is when it all got worse.

Much, much worse.

A ring of fireballs shot into the town, taking out humans and daedra alike. I looked up from the now dead clannfear to look at a machine that could only have come from the bowels of Oblivion.

It was huge, about the size of a small house, and it had many spider-like legs. They made a clanking sound as it dragged itself through the torn open gates to the besieged city. It shot wave after wave of fireballs more powerful than the strongest mage, taking lives at a perverse rate. Even the daedra stopped attacking and ran out of the way of huge death machine.

The siege crawler had arrived.

A board hit by a fireball took me down, saving me from two more that struck the remains of the building behind my head. Civilians ran for the temple, and were cut down. The crawler was nearly past the chapel now, destroying buildings and mowing down everything in its path.

My mind raced. There was no way we could possibly stop this machine. I was not left much time to think, however, for as soon as the crawler passed, another wave of the daedra came and the fighting recommenced.

I think every guard in Kvatch was there, fighting for their lives and the lives that were now lost. I had long lost track of any civilians, I had no idea whether they escaped, were in the chapel, or were dead. I fought desperately, almost mechanically, my only thoughts "There can only be so many daedra…. If I kill one more, maybe we can tip the fight in our favor…only one more."

How foolish I was.

A giant blue dremora and I were engaged in a vicious fight, every strike of mine he parried, I was barely avoiding death. Suddenly, a blade appeared from behind and struck deep into his stomach. It was Cintilius, battle worn and bloodstained, but alive.

He gave me an attempted smile, and did not notice the daedra's axe coming at him until it was too late. My own sword was too far behind, and Cintilius died with a single blow to the neck. I watched his eyes widen in surprise, and then quickly fade, his body staying upright in some sort of obscene gesture.

I think I may have shouted "No!" but all I am sure of is that the daedra was in pieces in a few moments. But then we were swarmed again. I heard "Retreat!" from the captain, and watched all the men flee, still fighting for heir lives. I ran. But a fireball threw me back into the chapel wall. I looked up at the scamp who threw it, and was mildly surprised as another fireball took him out. The siege crawler had returned.

For a moment, it seemed I had all the time in the world to look around at the ruined, burning city of Kvatch. Only a few were left fighting, but it was a futile effort. A dremora attacked me, and dutifully I blocked. Knowing the impossibility of the situation.

The siege crawler was halfway through the gate, but, almost as an afterthought, it threw one last ring of fireballs at the chapel. I heard an unpleasant cracking sound, and both the dremora and I looked up to see the top tower start to fall, directly above us. It seemed to take forever for it to descend, but I could not move. In the corner of my eye I could see the stature of Antus Pinder, still standing somehow. I laughed a bitter choking sound. "I suppose it is worth fighting fruitlessly for," I mumbled to myself. "For Kvatch."

And then I closed my eyes as the chapel tower hit the ground.