It has been 50 year since the death of Alduin. The Dragonborn has had triplets, all boys the eldest William, the middle child Iwan and the youngest Morgan. When they were born something very strange happened first a wonderful light engulfed the world. Secondly the world was plunged into pitch blackness for ten minutes finally it snow endlessly for ten days.
Unbeknownst to the Dragonborn they were the children in a prophecy. The Dragon priests predicted that the son of Alduin would be born alongside the Knight of the Nine and the Champion of Sheogorath.
Ten years later their mother was killed in brutal bandit raid, Iwan was consumed by anger, hate and grief, driven by his need for revenge he left during the dead of night. Before he left he stole a singular artefact; Mehrunes' Razor as he left his home in solitude he heard his father's voice.
"If you do this I will never love you and you will never see your brothers again,"
"You never loved me you only love William and that's only because he reminds you of yourself, Mam loved us all the same with no favourites," Iwan replied then he cast a lighting ball at his father which missed him by mere inches.
Six year later William and Morgan became travellers and left their home and went to see the world. Hours into their journey Morgan started to cry and with tears streaming out of his eyes he spoke.
"Do you think Iwan has died by now?"
William slapped him on the back.
"Man up he's been dead for years Dad told me on my fourteenth birthday."
"He could be lying to you."
"No," William said, "Dad said he found the body torn apart by wolves and buried it without us seeing to stop us from having to see mutilated body."
So they began to travel the world, William by now had learnt the Dragon priest and Dragon writings. After several hours of constant chatter Morgan had got fed up of William going on about the Empire and the gods told him to shut up and pushed him on to a patch of ice. William fell and head butted the ice and it began to crack, Morgan being stupid decided to tackle William to the side which made the ice smash in too many different pieces. They fell into the murky depths and lost consciousness. When they awoke they were bound in the middle of a bandit camp. There were five around them, a large Orc pushed through them and approached this prisoners.
"Look who's awake, the little ones are awake, they'll make for good target practice."
Morgan was positively trembling at that point, William not wanting the Orc to exploit his brother's fear, spat in the Orcs eye.
"You shouldn't have done that," The Orc said pulling his fist back.
Before the fist connected with the sixteen year olds face a scream pierced the air. A hooded figure was pulling a dagger from one of the bandits neck. The survivors surrounded him. He blasted one with lightning, stabbed another in the eye and finally used a bandit's own sword to behead him. The figure turned and threw the sword piercing the Orc's stomach.
The figure approached the boys and uncut their bindings. As the figure was about to finish, the Orc pulled the blade from himself and swung his war-hammer. The figure effortlessly dodged around the attack and pressed his hand against the Orc's head. The hand erupted into flames and the Orc screamed in pain. The figure laughed and tightened his grip until the Orc fell backwards- dead with a scorched hand print on his forehead. The figure chuckled one more time and sprinted away.
William and Morgan tore of the remaining bindings and jumped to their feet.
"We have to catch him," They said in unison.