Epilogue

The rain pours outside as the patrons in the Bannered Mare drank their mead, the rain drumming against the roof. Saadia places a fresh mutton leg on one Nord's plate, and some goat leg on a rather dashing, broad shouldered Breton draped in a fine robe that simply glowed with power. The Breton turns to Saadia and thanks her with a smile. His black hair cropped close to his head and his face clean-shaven, his smile white as pearls. Saadia smiles and bows. "Anything else, sir?" The Breton shakes his head and gives her a sac of coins. "Here is your tip and the cost for the food. There is about 50 gold Septims in there. Oh and please call me Miguel" Saadia opens her mouth, and raises an eyebrow. "But that's more than twice the amount the food cost." Miguel leans back and smirks. "Keep the change." Saadia thanks him and bows, walking away. Miguel takes a bite of his food, contemplating his gold.

At least I can always find a well paying job here and there. With all the magic at my disposal, I might as well BE the arch mage.

Miguel smiles and keeps eating. I think it was the smart thing to do, leaving the college. Sure, I might miss a few lessons, but at least I'm making a decent profit off of my skills. I wonder when my next job will be?

The door to the Bannered Mare flies open, banging against the wall and making most everyone in the Inn jump and turn to see the new comer. A slender figure, clad in black with a menacing black blade at his belt walks in, looking around. His face stays hidden under a cowl, with only his piercing blue eyes glaring out from under the hood. The figure's head passes the Breton, making a quick sweep over the room, and swivels back to him, and their eyes lock.

Strange...what an odd wardrobe…the citizens in Riften told me of a figure that would be dressed In black, and few lived to see one…books were written about it…what was it?

The answer comes to the large Breton as the figure points at him.

Nightingale.

His eyes widen and he readies an ice spear in his right hand behind his back, as the figure strides to him, growling, a fire blazing in the Nightingale's eyes. "Mage!"

Miguel is about to release his spell into the figure's chest when the Nightingale stops in front of him, its voice grave. "I need your assistance." Miguel looks around and the nords are watching carefully and Saadia watches from the doorway to the kitchen.

"Go back to your drinks everyone. I'll handle this." The nords nod and turn away, but keeping an ear out. A bar fight is always a good way to start an eventful evening, and a good night of drinking. Miguel turns to the slender Red Guard woman and nods, and she reluctantly goes back into the kitchen, saving a steak from burning to a crisp. Miguel turns to the figure, who is studying him intently, and the glare the nightingale gives the giant Breton makes him feel small and insignificant.

"…How good are you, Mage?" The nightingale growls, sizing him up.

"At what?" Miguel asks, slightly intimidated.

"Healing. I have a brother bleeding to death in the apothecary down the street. The alchemist cant do much about it and I need a mage. I'll ask ONE more time. ARE YOU GOOD AT HEALING?" The Nightingale growls up into his face.

Balls of light shine in Miguel's hands and he holds them up. "Yeah. I can heal him. But there will be a fee for my help." The Nightingale looks up at him and growls. "If you save my brother, you can name your price. If not, you'll regret getting up this morning and putting on those shiny robes of yours."

The Breton weighs his options and nods. "Bring me to your brother."

The Nightingale nods and grabs Miguel's forearm with a steely grip that seemed to be impossible coming from such a scrawny figure, and drags him out of the Bannered Mare, kicking the door open and dashing across the street to the Cauldron, his long ebony cape flying in the wind behind him as he kicks open the door and throws the Breton in the room, locking it behind him. Miguel looks around and hears moaning from the back room, and the Nightingale pushes him in its direction. Miguel runs in and sees a sight most gruesome than the face of a troll. A bleeding argonian in black and crimson is laying on a bed roll, his insides hanging out and gushing out blood. It's scales as red as its blood, and its horns black as night. His eyes closed in agony, and his shirt ripped open.

The Nightingale growls in his ear. "Either you save him, or you die. Now get to work." The Nightingale says, standing by the doorway from the apothecary into the room.

Miguel looks around the room and sees an exit on the far side of the room, with a man sitting in a chair next to the door. He immediately ignores this man, putting it in the back of his mind and grabs a pair of leather gloves from his bag and starts pushing the Argonian's intestines back into him, healing and cleansing the organs. "Feed him some strong liquor. He's gonna need it. Healing hurts like a bitch."

The Nightingale grabs the bag next to the argonian and fishes out two bottles, and smirks. "Argonian Wine and Spiced Wine. Both imported with his share of gold. The bastard always loved spicy things…" He smiles and sets the spiced wine on the side and pops the cork out of the argonian wine and wretches the victim's mouth open and pours it down his maw, past his razor sharp teeth. The poor wretch coughs and the Nightingale strokes its maw. "Drink it brother. Swallow. It'll null the pain."

The argonian relaxes and swallows large gulps of the Wine, and the Nightingale pops open the Spiced Wine and feeds it to the Argonian, who gulps it down as well. The argonians scales start growing pale, and Miguel hurries to shove the rest of the intestines back into place and pulls the scales back together and starts melding them together with a white hot flam and healing magic, while the argonian screams in pain.

Half an hour later, the Argonian is pale as his teeth, but the bleeding has stopped and Miguel has saved his life, and falls back in a chair, drained of power and exhausted. The Nightingale brings him a bottle of Black-Briar mead and crouches next to him…

"On behalf of myself, and my brothers, I would like to thank you for your services, Mage."

Miguel breathes and looks into the piercing blue eyes of the Nightingale. "You can thank me with gold, and with your identities."

The eyes behind the mask glare. "You can only have one of those."

Miguel's curiosity and need for compensation struggled in his head for a minute, before he looked up into the eyes of the Nightingale. "I want to know…Who are you guys? Why do you call this creature your brother when you don't even have a tail or horns? Why am I talking to a Nightingale, when they are supposed to be the stealthiest thieves and warriors? What is your name?"

The Nightingale looks into the fire in the room and thinks… "That is a lot of good questions…" He says, pulling off the hood and the mask to reveal a blonde haired wood elf with a scar going down his left cheek starting from his eye. He brushes his wild tasseled hair to the side and sits next to the Argonian.

"My story is long and drawn out, but I'll try to answer the majority of your questions. Since we are no longer paying you. This man, this "Creature" as you say, is my adopted brother, Axe-Tail. I just call him AXenth. He's the closest family I have really, ever since we left Black Marsh. We grew up together and stuck it out to most people. We were thick as thieves, and that sorta explains how we are what we are…" The Nightingale says, scratching his head. "That man over there is my best friend, but has, over time, become my brother as well. He's saved us more times than we can remember, and coincidentally we met at the same place…Helgen."

He looks into Miguel's sea green eyes and smirks. "Who am I? I'm DaXlyn, of course."

Hello, friends, its me, DaX. Yeah Yeah yeah, I know I'm behind schedule on PSG, chapter 5. I'm working on it. Between school starting and hanging out with friends, I kinda need to spread my time and manage it a little. So yeah, I've got 5 pages of chapter 5 written up in size 11 font. Which page number on fanfic don't matter for shit, of course, but its an accurate judgement of how much I've written, and I have NOT worked on the Pokémon one, even though its good, I only plan to have it last a few more chapters because there is supposed to be a lemon or two…or three. ANYWAYS, here is a preview of the SKYRIM fanfiction I'm doing. Kinda obvious who my characters are.

ME=Wood elf (Thief/archer/assassin) I can use A LOT of magic, but healing takes forever on someone else. Which is why we needed an mage to properly patch AXenth up.

My brother Ethan/Axenth= Argonian (assassin/heavy)

Michael Holland/Miguel=who isn't Dragon born, but may or may not be taught the Thu'um later on, but is our mage.

And of course (I cant leave him out of a good story)

My best friend, Rj/Riccardo/Jacket (from my PSG) who will be actually a name he came up with, Artharis…kinda lame, I know, but bear with me.

We'll each have our favorite faction as our wardrobe, like how I'm a stealthy thief so I freakin love the Nightingales. Ethan is…well…an assassin so he HAS to be Dark Brotherhood.

I'll have to ask Rj what faction he wants to be and what race and that crap. He'll most definitely be reading this tonight and be like "YEAH HE'S FUCKING DOING SKYRIM, BITCHES!"

Of course, this is just the Epilogue, so chapter one will probably not even have Miguel in it till, like…a lot of chapters later, cause we need to go through Helgen, and go through each of our Missions for our factions, maybe go in depth with our characters origins, and all that cool stuff. So..yeah, this series will actually be longer than my Pokémon one (which will be updated rarely) and probably a lot longer than my PSG one, cause I like to play skyrim and every time I do I get inspired for a new chapter. I GUESS the same could be said about PSG, but come on. I'm not going to have time to watch a lot of episodes. IF THEY START ON SEASON 2, it would be nice, but that's probably not going to happen =.= …

Ugh, anyways. Tell me how you like this chapter, cause I'll be posting more, but Miguel wont be back till a lot later. Till next time. L8r.