The Elder Scrolls:

Down with an Empire

Prelude

"Your Grandfather was… was a great man."

"Is that all you have to say, Father? Surely you can tell me what he has done that is so amazing."

"Fine, Logvarine, if you wish then I shall tell you what makes him so great. Why he is remembered as a hero…"

Your grandfather was a general in the Imperial military ever since he had helped Martin stop the 'Oblivion crisis'. We live a long time you see, we Dunmer, he was over 190 years of age when he was killed. He served faithfully with the legion the rest of his life and followed the orders that his commanding officers gave him and in return the people under him listened to his call like a trained pack of wolves. He became the Arch mage of the mages guild, up until it was split; he never spoke that day, he knew that he wouldn't be able to bring the two groups back together.

He became a master in all of the forms of magic, even more so than I am right now. His conjuring was so strong that he could summon Dremora Lords for much extended amounts of time, and most surprising of all, he gained their respect, two of them actually. They followed his every word and served alongside of him in many a battle. They even told him their name, which is forbidden amongst the Dremora ranks. They were his only completely trustworthy allies. He was the one, matter of fact, that rediscovered frostcrag tower where we now sit.

He founded the guild of "Mercenaries" who now reside here, of all creeds and colours, beliefs and races. It was him and his closest friends who created, and extended the spire here to fit more people, and formed the guild. As you know we have no name, only that we work in the name of the empire, until the day when it is no longer the true empire. I was there the day that he… died, at the hands of the Thalmor. The day that the empire died…

The year was 174 of the current era…

"Get the citizens out of the streets!" screamed the man with a rough white beard and weary looking red eyes. He wore a black hood on his head and a suit of armor black as night with trimmings the colour of the red dragon crown, gold. His dragon guard armor shone in the fires lighting up the streets in the market district.

"Are you sure you will not accompany us Logsharn?" spoke the Emperor. He was surrounded by his blades on all sides and a large force was amassing behind him. Logsharn slowly turned to look at him and frown.

"Forgive me Titus, but I must try to save the city and, if not, defend it to my dying breath. I cannot follow you north." The Emperor replied with another frown.

"I understand friend, gods speed to you." The Emperor and most of the military left for the north of the city while a small force remained behind to, essentially, throw away their lives. Those brave men and women knew exactly what they were up against, but they still stayed. Their faces still haunt me.

Men gathered to my father and they prepared for their final stand, until I came along…

"Warnarn, what are you doing here?" said Logsharn as I walked out of the stall in the market. He hugged me and then let me go. I said that I wanted to fight, but he forbid and slapped me over the head, telling me to run to the college; what used to be the college. Before I left I had just enough time to see him summon Xakkev and Rezzkal, his Dremora companions, as they brandished their weapons for the coming storm.

"Will this be the final stand Master?" asked Xakkev. Father tried to wait until I was out of earshot to answer, but I still heard.

"There is no doubt, by the Divines…"

When I arrived at the Mages college and got ready to step on the pad to take me to the spire, I saw the front gate of the bridge bust open and imperial soldiers flooded in. The last ones in were my father and his summons, they were mowing down the Altmer faster than I ever thought possible, father with his claymore made of daedric metals.

Arrows ripped apart the other forces and they told him to go and tell the emperor what had happened. Before he could object they slammed the gate of the university in his face. He and his two followers ran to me and my father told me to go to the spire and destroy the pad on the way out. I told him I would but I stood behind the door and watched through the cracks. I could hear the soldiers screaming in terror and the sickly sound of the Altmer's laughing.

"You were a good master, Hero of Kvatch." Said Rezzkal.

"Perhaps we shall see you in oblivion, Lord Hlaalu." Said Xakkev.

"Tell Dagon something for me, will you."

"Yes, what is it my Lord?" asked Rezzkal.

"Tell him that he's an N'wah that should stay in his own realm…" The doors opened then and black robed men flooded the courtyard. Father stabbed one in the stomach and slashed through to get to another, taking his head off.

Rezzkal bashed one with a shield and slashed across his chest, turning to take another's arm off and stab another in the face. Xakkev took down eight before he was run through. He grabbed on to an Altmer and sucked out his soul with a black soulgem before he died; took it with him as he turned to red ashes and his essence was returned to Oblivion. Rezzkal jumped in front of father to shield him from a lightning spell and took one more Altmer's head off before he fell to the ground and said goodbye to his master, he also turned to ashes.

My father was a mage and a warrior to his last; he pressed his hand against his armor and magical runes spread all around it, glowing red with fire. He screamed as he charged into the group of Altmer slashing and stabbing, chopping and lunging. He took down a good 10 more before he took a sword to his chest. As he fell to the ground the red runes began to glow brighter. He cursed something in Dunmeris… and exploded into a giant fireball, incinerating most of his remaining adversaries. I went back to the tower then… and destroyed the teleportation pad…

"He could have escaped. Why didn't he father?" spoke Logvarine, he had black hair that was brushed to reveal his forehead and long dark Indigo grey ears. His Red eyes were inquisitive at best, but usually they had a look of resentment. His father Warnarn was his reflection, save a mustache and shorter hair, as well as some more wrinkles.

"Honour, he swore to protect the empire not the Emperor, he chose an honourable path. I wish to die like that as well." He sighed.

"Don't talk like that," said Logvarine his eyes squinting, "we have lots of time."

"Yes, and I must get you and your comrades ready for the coming age… there is something I never told you and Nivard…"

"What?"

"…on the night you were born, the same night ironically, Talos came to me in a dream, he thanked me for my family's service to him in the days of old, the second era, and said that I would be given Two sons. I was pleased but he added to that, my sons would both be blessed with the souls of Dragons, as well as my friends son Nivard; your friend. You, your twin Logelaine and your friend Nivard may actually be Dragon born!" Logvarine stared at him with sceptical eyes.

"I never really believed it, but maybe you could help me prove it."

"How?" Logvarine asked.

"Say: Fus…" Warnarn told him.

"…What?"

"Just do it."

Logvarine breathed soothingly, and then said.

"Fus…" the sound seemed to carry, and the wind picked up around him for but a moment. Logvarine was still confused.

"I… don't understand…"

"The legend of the dragon born? The old Nordic legends? You don't remember?"

"Nivard might, he is a Nord, but I don't believe in all of that stuff." Warnarn reached into his robe pocket and produced an amulet. The necklace had a symbol of Talos hanging from it; he threw it at his son who caught it with hardly any movement.

"You should…" He got up and walked away, "You may only be seventeen, but we must begin your training, get some rest."

Logvarine looked down at the amulet, evaluating the cross with his inquisitive red eyes. He could feel himself drawing power from it as if it had an enchantment.

There were no windows in this room, but he could still feel the wind.