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Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Oblivion, or any part of the Elder Scrolls Universe.

Chapter 1: Gift of a dead man

What a gyp. His stupid uncle died, and all he got was some stupid house up in the freezing Jerall Mountains. How stupid. Arch Mage Aren Farthen was sick enough of living in Bruma and its tall, drunken Nords. That's why he sold his home and moved. All he needed was another freezing house, but now he was forced to claim it where there were no other Dunmer who could relate to his life. Bundling himself up, he clambered onto his old bay horse and headed out of the Imperial City to his new home, which he planned to sell as soon as possible.

After a week of intense travel (which involved getting lost, fighting bandits, being rescued by an Imperial Forester and getting his most valuable clothing stolen out of his backpack while he slept), Aren finally arrived at where his old uncle's tower was supposed to be. Looking up in awe, he marveled at the gigantic tower where he was supposed to now live. The huge structure had several large, unwieldy additions that almost caused Aren's inner Magicka reserves surge through him. Even the door itself was intricate and mystical. As Aren walked up the several stone flights to his new home, the beautiful doorway opened without even his touch. "Hmm," Aren thought to himself. "Maybe this won't be so bad after all."

Inside seemed to be disappointing, however. All he saw was a dusty old tome on a Frost Atronach's hand, which had been fashioned into a small table. Upon picking up the tome, Aren's complaints died in his throat as part of the wall he was facing opened to an exquisite great hall. To his left and right, Aren spotted magical portals , he guessed to the higher sections of the tower. At the back of the hall, there was a raised platform, with sloping ramps going up on each side. Walking up the let ramp, Aren marveled at the items that faced the doorway. On his right, he passed an enchanting pedestal. On his left was a spell crafting pedestal. He noted with dismay that both pedestals were missing Magetallow candles, which were necessary components to use either pedestal.

In between the two, however, was the best part. Aren placed his hands on the dais in front of him, and felt his alchemy supplies twitching, heating up, and freezing at the same time. Confused, he pulled out all the salts he had obtained from battling Frost, fire, and Storm Atronachs. The salts, each performing what they were created to do, floated down to several sections of the hall's floor. The fire salts landed on a section of what seemed to be hot magma. The void salts landed on a section of hard brown dirt, and the frost salts floated down to the one circle of ice. Aren, feeling a spark of inspiration, placed his hands on the dais again, and concentrated on the three circles of ground and salt. In amazement, he watched the spectacle that unfolded in his great hall.

Rushing into the room was a group of necromancers, who had been tracking Aren since he had left the Imperial City in secret. His position as Arch Mage attracted the necromancers who planned to resurrect The King of Worms, Mannimarco. Just as they entered the great hall, Aren's salts took shape. The fire salts morphed into a fire Atronach, the frost salts into a Frost Atronach, and the void salts took shape as a Storm Atronach. The necromancers were surrounded by the three atronachs. Their screams never reached the tower's open air.

Aren watched in amazement as the atronachs destroyed the necromancers with no effort. He looked at his hands, and at the dais that gave the monsters in front of him life. An insane, almost evil power came to his thoughts and manifested in his face. "I AM A GOD!"