The Elder Scrolls
The Fall of Tamriel
Book One: The Returning Hero
By: W. T. Anderton
Prologue:
The newly established Moth Temple of the imperial province of High Rock was bustling with lively activity. It had taken several decades just to gain the permits to build the Moth Temple where the once fabulous Direnni Tower once stood. The tower, said to be the oldest standing structure in all of Tamriel, had fallen during the infamous Mage War. The Moth Temple, built because of the victory of the Imperial Legion, stood as a memorial for the climatic battle that resulted in the Breton feudal kingdoms fully being integrated into the empire. Now the Moth Temple was finally alive with activity from all of the eager priests and acolytes who were scrambling to all catch a glimpse at a newly arrived package.
General Thane, the man who had commanded the whole war between Cyrodiil and High Rock, watched over the whole gathering from a balcony that overlooked the courtyard. He smiled to himself and sighed softly, his breath steaming in front of him. Though the land of High Rock was usually temperate, the islands of the Iliac Bay even more so, the Mage War had scarred the land. Even the weather and climate had been directly affected by the decades old traces of powerful magic. It was the middle of the summer season and yet it felt to Thane like it was deep into one of Cyrodiil's winters.
High Priest Mutte, an elderly man who had been present during the battles and the final negotiations at the close of the Mage War, stepped up beside the general. He wore the long gray robes that marked him as a Moth Priest, one of those with the famed ability to read from the mystical Elder Scrolls. He carried with him a thick wooden staff that he used to lean on for support. "It seems everyone is excited about the new arrival, General Thane. Everyone but us, that is."
Thane looked at the old man, taking note of his slightly pale skin and naturally wavy hair that marked him as a Breton. "I never was one to accept changes lightly. A newcomer could only slow things down around here which the Imperial Legion cannot afford considering the war going on in Skyrim."
The Breton man chuckled, his long beard shaking slightly. "How goes the war in the north, General?"
The Imperial man took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Though the Imperial Legion is not acting directly in the war, the Nords are not that happy with our presence either. We're either shunned completely from their towns or we're attacked on sight."
"The people of Skyrim have always been and always will be a brutish race with a history drenched in blood," the elder commented. Thane simply nodded his head and turned his attention back to the courtyard. The people were now gathering around what seemed to be a Dunmer, or Dark Elf as the Imperials preferred to call them, dressed in dark leather armor with a bow across his back. By the looks of things everyone was trying to ask him questions but the Dark Elf ignored them all and looked up to the balcony. Thane was slightly surprised when their eyes met and he felt a small sense of recognition. It was like he knew this man from some distant memory, or maybe from a long forgotten dream.
Thane stared in the man's eyes and in the depths of his red pupils he could almost make out what seemed to be words forming in his head. It was perhaps nothing more than an illusion spell, and so Thane tossed the thought aside. Just then Mutte spoke again. "The fool."
Before the general could ask his fellow veteran about what he meant, the Dunmer man pulled out a short sword that was concealed under the chest guard of his armor. The first one to fall to his blade was one of the young acolytes, the boy screaming as blood spilled from the wound in his stomach. Thane watched helplessly as the Dunmer carried himself forward, plunging his sword into one of the older priest's chest. One of the priests was about to launch a lethal fireball spell at the Dunmer assailant, but a crossbow bolt buried itself deeply into his spine. He collapsed to the ground with the fireball collapsing in on itself until it was completely gone.
Thane quickly followed the trajectory of the crossbow bolt and saw a trio of Dunmer dressed similarly to the original assailant jogging into the courtyard. "Four Dark Elves do not stand a chance against the Moth Priests of High Rock." Mutte spoke quietly, barely above a whisper. It was as if he was observing the whole battle just as intently as Thane was. The two of them continued to watch as a small band of experienced Moth Priests from the Mage War chanted in unison and summoned a swarm of skeletal soldiers into the battle. These fabricated though dangerous creatures attacked the Dark Elves with a barely contained ferocity. They wielded crude and rusted axes and clubs against the elegant and sharp blades of the elves, but their numbers alone overwhelmed the assailants.
The original Dunmer was the only survivor who now stood with his back against one of the walls surrounding the courtyard. He flourished two short swords now and his mouth moved wordlessly, and it was Mutte who realized first what the Dark Elf was doing. With a reflexive twitch of his hand the old Breton brought his staff up and slammed the tip back down on the ground. The whole earth trembled beneath Thane's feet and he feared that the whole foundation of the Moth Temple would collapse, but it was merely the tremors of the currents of magical energy that he felt.
Thane watched as the Dunmer's mouth stopped moving just as the tremors ceased, and a second later the elf's head was crushed like a grape between a troll's fingers. Brain matter and blood spilled in all directions from the elf's body and the survivors scrambled away to avoid being covered in the filthy fluids. It took a few moments before finally someone gathered the courage to search the man's body, and then he stood back up to look at Thane and Mutte. The elderly mage tapped his staff on the ground again and vanished in a swarm of what seemed to be gray feathers before reappearing in the same manner only a few feet from the corpse. Mutte was handed something that the man had retrieved from the Dunmer's body, and Thane knew exactly what it was by the look on Mutte's face. It was an Elder Scroll.