A thunderous roar echoes throughout the academy, alerting everyone of it's presence. The sky tore open revealing a blinding light that would be witnessed for miles, and within it's center emerged a dragon with decayed skin. As the light appeared in an instant out of nowhere it suddenly ceased to be, leaving behind the dragon. It soared the sky circling the academy simply watching, with it's decaying skin, and wings torn apart, the only way to describe the beast was ancient.

Not much time had passed before the beast decided to charge towards the academy with unmatched speed. It's goal, was the golem that had just appeared from the ground. Diving towards the golem the dragon spoke,

"Gaan-Lah-Haas"

A blast of magic was sent hurtling towards the golem and enveloped it in a life-sucking aura, which caused it to stumble to the ground. Entire chunks fell back to the ground from which it was created. Slowly sinking back to the earth, the dragon arched back to the sky only to begin circling around the golem. Trying to get back up the golem begins to crumble, instead it leans on the academy wall in order to push itself up. At this point it had lost an entire arm, along with part of it's abdomen, in other words it was in terrible shape. But nevertheless it began to sprint towards the walls that protected the academy and attempted to escape, though it was a fruitless endeavor when the dragon blocked it's path. Swiftly landing on the wall the dragon grabbed on with it's talons which left large indents. Facing against each other a dead silence passed as the two stood silently.

With no other choice left the golem's caster revealed herself and began to cast a spell. The fury she had towards the beast was evident even from afar. She despised it for ruining her plans, she wanted it to teach the beast the error of it's mistake, to die, to suffer. Never moving the dragon simply waited, it was evident that it knew what was going to happen, yet it stayed. Nearing the end of her spell the caster knew for a fact that she would end victorious, with this she gave a smug smirk. Suddenly four figures appeared on either side of the dragon, they each stood confidently against the caster. The first was the Dragonborn, hero of Skyrim and slay of Alduin, he wore Ahzidal's Armor and wielded ancient sword once wielded by the Blades. To his right stood the Archmage, of the College of Winterhold, wearing the dragon-priest mask Zahkriisos, she wielded the Staff of Magnus to help control her own power. On the other side of them stood the Harbinger of the Companions, shielded by ebony, he raised a Nordic Greatsword with ease. Alongside him stood a Nightingale, cloaked in shadow with a arrow already notched in his bow he aimed for the caster. With an arrow notched onto a bow crafted by a god, the figure released his grip and let the arrow pierce the air to find it's target. The arrow itself appeared to absorb all the surrounding light, leaving an aura of darkness. Shock took over the caster, she hadn't realized what exactly had happened, that is until a surge of pain erupted from her shoulder. A cry of agony left her mouth as she fell to her knees, not knowing what to do she let herself fall to the ground. As she fell she managed to cast one final spell before hitting the ground, the earth itself slowed her decent and swallowed her whole. She escaped, knowing full well that this was a battle that could no longer be won. But with her presence gone the situation didn't change at all, the golem stayed and begun to charge at the dragon and figure. While most of the golem had been destroyed it was still a force to be reckoned with. Pulling back it's remaining arm it intended to crush the dragon with brute force. Yet still the dragon stood it's ground and patiently waited, never fearing what could happen. Before the golem could finish it's swim the Archmage raised the Staff of Magnus and used it's power to push back the golem and stop it mid-swing, as the power of the staff was released most of the golem's magical properties were absorbed. Finally the Dragonborn stepped up and with but a whisper he Shouted,

"Fus-Ro-Dah"

A surge of energy was released forming a shockwave that vibrated the air and everything that it passed. Once reaching the golem, it froze, resonating throughout the entirety of it's body. The dirt that once held together slowly fell back to the earth that had sustained it. Within seconds the whole of the golem had dispersed throughout the air, leaving a vail of dust that shrouded the approaching students.

"Well this'll be interesting nonetheless," commented the Nightingale.

Before the dust could settle the Nightingale began to scale down the side of the wall. By grabbing onto the cracks that had formed due to its age, he managed to reach the bottom in order to inspect the golem's remains. The earth itself wasn't anything unique, and any traces of magic had all but disappeared. Whatever it was certainly didn't originate from a plane in oblivion, including Mundus. Wherever it is that the group has landed is certainly far away from home. Without warning the Nightingale is surrounded by students of Tristain's Academy of Magic. They stood a safe distance away, it wasn't until one of them spoke out that the silence was broken,

"In the name of the princess," raising a rose, he continued on arrogantly, "stop right there."

Not being able to hold in his laughter the Nightingale burst out in laughter. The sheer confusion among the students was priceless, many others had begun to pull out their respective wands. As his laughter begins to die down he unsheathes his blade, passed down from Karliah to aid him in his venture to the Twilight Sepulcher. He raises the blade towards the blonde that told me to stand down and retorted,

"Now I wonder, why does that sound so familiar."

All of the students begin to laugh hysterically, "He's just another commoner!"

"Looks like he tried to break into the academy, what an idiot!"

"Does that peasant actually think he can fight us?"

It was interesting to see their reactions to say the least, the Nightingale couldn't help but grin a bit behind his armor. The sheer amount of ignorance the students presented was amusing, but in the end very pathetic. Most of the students had raised their wands against me, the sheer numbers would prove troublesome but they reeked of inexperience. The arrogant blond that tried to detain the Nightingale the first time spoke out,

"You interrupt the familiar exhibition with the princess attending and yet you refuse to pay for your crimes."

"Listen boy , you're out of your league, it's best if you just let me be on my way."

"A commoner threatening a noble? You clearly have a death wish, now prepare yourself!"

With his declaration finished the Nightingale rushed the blonde before he could react. Everything slowed down, no one spoke, or moved, the edge of the blade found the first layers of skin on the boy's neck.

"Guiche!" Screamed out several of the female students.

The look of horror that dawned on the boy was a pathetic sight,

"I've had enough of you wasting my time." With a cold sneer, "Now get out of my way."

Sheathing his blade he began to walk away, only footsteps could be heard in the dead of silence. Everyone backed off as soon as he approached them.

"W-wait!" Yelled a short pinked haired girl with a flustered look, "What happened to the golem?"

Stopping his stride the Nightingale stood there, the other students were confused and muttering to themselves, none of them had even noticed what had occurred. He took a moment to consider his answer, it was very odd though, most had at least one such experience since the return of the dragons.

"Halt!"

Turning around he found several guards approaching, no doubt intending to apprehend him. Each carried a standard sword, their armor was of a fine steel though the style was foreign. In return the Nightingale raised his blade towards them, ready to engage in whatever was necessary. They suddenly came to a stop as a girl dressed in a royal manner approached him. Whether it was confidence or arrogance that she portrayed was unclear, however it did garner the Nightingale's respect to not do anything rash. She stopped just before reaching his blade and spoke,

"May I ask who you are?"

"I see no reason to introduce myself to someone like you."

One of the guards broke rank and tried to threaten him, "You will show respect to princess Henrietta, heir to the Tristain throne!"

"Tristain?

"Tristain, the kingdom which we are currently residing in," replied the princess. "Do you not know where you are?"

"It appears not."

"I ask you again, who are you?"

Giving it a moment to let this new information sink in before responding, he slowly sheared his blade. This certainly wasn't a plane of Oblivion, and the terrain was too different from anything in Tamriel, or Nirn for that case. The air was much richer, the flow of magic constantly crashing against me, the sun always burning away its rays of light. But it just wasn't the same.

"I'm simply a Nightingale."

"Preposterous!" Yelled out one of the rudeness, "Such a self proclaimed title is absurd, only nobles can bare titles!"

" Letting out a sigh the Nightingale continued on with his conversation with the princess,

"It appears that this land's customs are much more restricted."

"So you're not from these lands then?"

"From what I can see I'm very far from my homeland, then again that's not very new."

"Then how did you get here?

"That'll have to wait until you meet the others."

"Others?"

"I didn't come alone."

On cue, three figures appeared from where the golem was disposed of. Valenwe Adthar, Archmage of Winterhold, her mastery over magic was unparalleled, while preferring to talk her way out of situations she can let loose a stream of blinding lightning leaving a path of destruction. Ulrik, Harbinger of the Companions, covered in ebony armor he is a hulking berserker that can't be stopped. Ending with the Torban, the Dragonborn, protect by Ahzidal's old armor.

"It would be best if we continued this in private."

A room was prepared for the group of four who had found themselves within the academy walls. Princess Henrietta was accompanied by two of her trusted officials, Agnes, of the Musketeer Corps and Viscount Wardes, of the Griffin Knights. The three sat across the strangers of this land. It was clear that whatever was going to happen was going to be long, tedious, and crucial to the fate of the country. Both groups were hesitant on even beginning to talk to one another, though it was made painfully clear that there were questions that needed to be answered. The sun still shone brilliantly through the window which illuminated the room and would reveal any underhanded tricks either party thought of planning.

"Now that we're alone," the princess turns around to face the four, " who are you?"

Leaning forward the Dragonborn introduces himself first, "I am the leader of the Blades and slayer of the World-Eater, Alduin."

With a low gruntled voice the warrior went next, "Ulrik, Harbinger of the Companions."

"Arelos," whispered the Nightingale.

Ending off with the robed woman, "I am Valenwe Adthar," she begins to take off the dragon-priest's mask Zahkriisos, only to reveal the complexion of an elf, "Archmage of Winterhold, so where exactly are we?

Princess Henrietta couldn't keep track of everything that was being said. She and her guards were stunned at the sight of the elf.

"Y-you're an elf?" At this statement Agnes raised her pistol and aimed towards the high elf alongside Wardes who raised his rapier in response.

This in turn caused Ulrik to stand and unsheathe his greatsword. Everything stopped, the two good confidently but were indeed wary of the situation at hand. While Ulrik stood ready for an attack, the rest simply sat there annoyed.

"Stand down," ordered Henrietta.

"Well isn't this interesting," spoke Torban," met is still hated by man no matter where we go. If you seek any answers then I ask that we speak Ina a civilized manner."

Slowly and hesitantly the two lowered their weapons. The room had turned eerily quiet with tensions still high.

"I suggest we start from the beginning, this might take a while. Now, what is this place?"

"This is the Tristain Academy of Magic," answered Henrietta.

"That isn't what I meant. This clearly isn't Tamriel, and I highly doubt this is a plane of Oblivion."

"Tamriel? And what's Oblivion?"

Looks of worry spread across both Agnes and Wardes. It was clear that their guests were a completely unknown factor, however their importance in the grand scheme of things was still in question.

"It's more than confirmed that this isn't our home world." Turning to Arelos, "tell me, what's become of your connection to Nocturnal?"

The Nightingale takes a moment to focus before answering, "The Night Mistress' power appears to be weaker but the contract still stands."

"Hold on," ordered Agnes. "Answer the princess' question first."

"My apologies. Tamriel is the continent from which we all originate from, with Cyrodiil at the seat of power."

"And what about this Nocturnal?"

"The Night Mistress is one of the 17 deadric princess that inhabit Oblivion."

"So they're your rulers?"

Bursting out in laughter Torban continues, "Far from it, they may have some connections in Nirn but not enough to rule. Man will always rule over man, you could see both the aedra and daedra as our gods."

Wardes then speaks out, "You're gods? What you speak of is heresy, the only god is the Founder Brimir!"

"What you forget is that he is not our god," continued Torban, "we all choose who to worship. Such actions are what brought the downfall of the Thalmor.

The day had passed on to give way to the night and as the final stars began to shine their brilliant lights. Not much had been accomplished in terms of figuring out what the next course of action should be. Everyone had ended off on bad terms and everything would be continued for the next day, the simple mention of other gods was unforgivable. The night passed by quietly with Arelos standing guard on the roof, enveloped in shadows he surveys the academy grounds. Everything fell right into place, the moon was concealed by a dreaded mist that kept all in secrecy.