Prologue
He raced across the thin bridge as fast as his legs would take him. Pain surged through him with each breath he took, he was bleeding badly. He had seen wounds like this before, if it wasn't treated quickly enough then death would be the result. He arrived at the door at the end of the bridge connecting the two towers together, and burst through it. There wasn't much time. He was met by a Dramora on the other side, they crashed to the floor together as he ran into it. He winced in pain when he hit the floor, the wound had become worse. He rolled over to see the Dramora had rushed to it's feet, quickly dawing its blade. His sword lay across the floor, the Dramora between him and it. His limbs were numb, he couldn't feel them anymore. He tried to get on his feet, but stumbled back to the floor. The Dramora seeing this Laughed.
"So you are the great hero all the realms of Lord Dagon have been talking about. It would appear the stories of you are wrong, you're no invincible warrior, you're a mere mortal, and now you die by my hand!"
The creature said as it slowly walked over, taking its time seeing that its prey was badly wounded. When the Dramora was a mere few feet away from him it raised its sword to thrust down
upon the bleeding hero. The sword mad a dull clanging sound as it hit the floor. The hero had rolled out of the way, and in a flash, had one of his daggers in hand. He threw it as hard as he could, hoping it would be enough, his strength was leaving him. The dagger had hit its mark, lodging itself deeply into the creature's throat.
"No, not by your hand." The hero barely managed to whisper to the creature as it dropped to the ground clutching the dagger that had caused it to spew blood out of its neck. The hero laid back and breathed a sigh of relief only to have pain shoot through his body. I have to get up, it's not over yet, they still need me to finish this, if I don't do it they'll all die. He couldn't bear the thought of them all dieing because he failed. He couldn't fail, not now. He was so close, all that remained was the sigil keep at the top of the walkway. In that room he'd find the great sigil stone, and he'd be able to close the gate and give Martin the stone to help complete the ritual.
He struggled to his feet, staggered to retrieve his sword, and continued up the walkway. He approached the door to the sigil keep. This is it he thought as he summoned all the strength he could to open the door, and walked through. He walked leaning against the wall to help support him. An opening in the wall appeared and he peaked through. Ramps lead to a second floor, and there he saw it, the Great Sigil Stone. There were two more Dramora, and a Deadroth guarding it. When he saw them his spirit sank. He could take on one Dramora in his current state, maybe two, but a Deadroth also? It couldn't be done.
He thought of the battle outside the great gate at that moment. So many had shown up to help Martin and himself. They were out there now, fighting and dieing. He could see his friends all fighting, bloodied and injured. Jauffre and Baurus stood on either side of Martin, each slashing wildly, trying to keep their emperor safe, the other Blades scattered about the battlefield fighting. He could see Ulik, the big Nord killing enemies left and right with each swing of his claymore, singing of battle all the while. He could see Avanos moving quickly through the battlefield to the hill where the archers had been positioned, dropping any Dremora he came across with his deadly katanas. Ashley was on the hill with what remained of the rest of the archers, fighting the monsters with her Elvin short sword, her quiver long since out of arrows. He could see each soldier's face, each friend, as if they were right there in front of him. They were all of them relying on him. He couldn't let anymore of them die, not because of him. If he failed all of Bruma, his friends, and the hopes of the empire, would all die.
He found new resolve. Pushing through the pain, he drew another one of his daggers from his belt, and turned the corner. He hurled the dagger at the nearest Dremora. It cut clean through the armor, embedding itself deeply into the creature's chest, killing the Dremora before he could release a word. The other Dremora, hearing the thud of its dead comrade's body hitting the floor, whirled about drawing its sword to face the intruder. Adrenaline kicked in and the Hero rushed the Dremora, parrying an attack as he did so. He swung his own sword at the creature, but his attack was blocked. They exchanged a few more attacks, each being blocked or parried by the other, until their blades locked. The hero could feel himself weakening, his wound was taking its toll. He summoned all his strength and kicked the Dremora, causing it to stagger backwards. This gave him the opening he needed. He swung his sword horizontally, and the Dremora's head went flying across the room.
The hero was exhausted, he could barely hold himself up, but he had to keep going. He couldn't fail, he was so close now. He made his way up the walkway as best he could. He reached the top, and could see it, it was only a few meters away from him, the Great Sigil Stone. Relief washed over him, then he heard a roar from behind. He turned and came face to face with the Deadroth. He raised his sword just in time to block an attack from the monster, but the blow was so hard that it sent his sword flying from his hand. The Dreadroth took him in both its hands, clamping the hero's arms to the sides of his body. He struggled against the monster's grip, but it was too stong. The Deadroth opened its alligator like mouth, and started bringing the hero closer. The hero swung his leg, sending an armored boot into the mouth of the monster, knocking out a tooth, and causing the creature to release him from its grasp. He clambered back to his feet and drew his last dagger from his belt. He swung, cutting a gash across the monster's arm. The creature reeled back in pain. The hero took the opening, and put three more gashes, these in the animal's abdomen.
There was a twang sound, and the hero felt an impact into his back, followed by an extreme pain. Another twang was heard, and another thud, and pain shot through him, causing him to drop his dagger. He turned to see a third Dremora, this one wielding a bow. He looked at his back, and saw an arrow protruding from it. He couldn't see the other one, but he felt it. The pain immobilized him.
The Deadroth, who a moment ago was about to reach its end, bared back down upon the hero. It delivered a swing to the hero that sent him flying into the wall. He slumped to the wall, bloody and beaten. He couldn't move. He found the pain wasn't as bad, he felt numb. His wounds were too serious, there was no chance. His hands wouldn't respond, and his vision became blurred. He was so close, he was right there, but he couldn't do it. He had failed. Bruma would fall, followed by more cities, eventually the entire empire. His friends would die on the battlefield waiting in vain for the gates to close.
The Dremora walked over to the dying hero.
"I was so close. Please forgive me. I have failed." The Hero whispered. The Dremora drew a dagger, and pulled back his arm to deliver the final blow, then everything went black.