[I do not own any of the people, places or things mentioned in this story. All credit goes to Bethesda and the developers of The Elder Scrolls games]
Prologue
Chaos, noise, destruction; it was all around. One small Dunmer, stuck right in the middle, clung to the body of his already dead father as the world seemed to end around him.
The impossible becoming possible; gates to Oblivion itself open inside the city, and Daedra of all sorts pouring out. Buildings exploded around the little dark elf named Orvayne as the hell-spawned creatures tear the city apart. When all seemed lost, Orvayn noticed the demons begin to converge on something... or rather, someone. Two men seemed to be carving his way through the masses of Daedra. One wearing the robes of the Emperor, the other a dark set of armor; ebony, it seemed. The first man was throwing powerful spells at the approaching enemies, and any that managed to avoid obliteration of that sort was soon cut down by the warrior's mighty blade.
It was one of the most amazing things Orvayn had ever seen; wave upon wave of horrible creatures, right from his nightmares, were attacking and being defeated as the two men made their way to the Temple of the One. And when it seemed they might actually win, the most horrible noise that young Dunmer had ever heard echoed through the city.
An Oblivion Gate, impossibly large, opened right in front of the Temple's entrance, and out stepped what could only be the Daedric Prince of Destruction himself; Mehrunes Dagon. Tall,so incredibly tall, and terrifying. Four arms, one wielding a huge sword, another; an even larger axe. A third had a set of claws extending from the wrist, and the fourth was flinging spells. Even through the massive chaos, the God instantly found what he was looking for; the two men fighting through Dagon's minions.
He let out a mighty roar, causing Orvayn to cover his ears and cry uncontrollably. Still, the two men pressed on, and made it into the Temple. Through his tears, Orvayn continued to watch as the Daedric Prince ripped the roof of the Temple away. And then... Orvayn couldn't believe his eyes. Could Mehrunes Dagon actually look.... afraid?
As if to answer, the rest of the Temple roof was blasted away as a flaming red dragon that could only be Akatosh himself, roared to life in front of the Daedra. The two gargantuan deities fought, each with a different assortment of attacks. When Akatosh took flight and plunged into Dagon, a hush fell over the whole city.
All watched as the final blows were exchanged, the Dragon lunging at the Daedra's neck and then breathing his Holy fire onto the demon, banishing him back to the depths of his own Hell. Orvayn couldn't believe it... against impossible odds, had they won? But, something was wrong. The avatar of his God breathed heavily, weakened from his battle. Akatosh surveyed his surroundings and looked pleased. And then, with the last of his energy, the mighty God threw his head back and let out a roar that shook the fondations of the city as the Dragon slowly petrified; forever a momunemt to their victory.
At that, Orvayn finally collapsed from exhaustion, fear, pain, and many other things a boy of his age shouldn't have been able to handle. In his dreams, he heard two names. Names that he would remember forever. The first was of the heroic emperor, Martin Semptim. Willingly sacrificing himself for the good of the Empire and all it's people. And the second was of the mighty warrior, the one they called the Champion of Cyrodiil. The one that saved them all.