History in the Fourth Era
4E 22
■The Thalmor came into power of Summerset Isle. Summerset Isle is renamed to Alinor, but is still referred to as Summerset Isle outside the Aldmeri Dominion.
4E 29
■The government of Valenwood is overthrown by the Thalmor sympathizers. The Bosmeri, allied with the Empire, was unprepared. Valenwood becomes a Thalmor territory.
■Aldmeri Dominion sever all ties with the Empire.
4E 115
■Coup against the Elsweyr Confederacy takes place. Elsweyr is divided into the kingdoms of Anequina and Pelletine as extensions of the Aldmeri Dominion.
4E 168
■Titus Mede II ascended the throne of the Empire.
4E 171
■The Ambassador of the Aldmeri Dominion threatens The Empire to step down from power. The Empire resists, and The Great War between The Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion begins.
■Aldmeri Forces led by Lord Naarifin invade Hammerfell and Cyrodiil. The city of Leyawiin falls, and the city of Bravil is besieged.
■A 2nd Aldmeri Force, led by Lady Arannelya cross western Cyrodiil and invades Hammerfell. The Redguards in Hammerfell, divided by civil war and disorganized put up little resistance. The southern coastline fell to the Aldmeri Forces as the Imperial Legions in Hammerfell retreat north into the Alik'r Desert.
4E 172
■Aldmeri Forces advance into Cyrodiil to capture Imperial City
■Cyrodiil: The cities of Bravil and Anvil in Cyrodiil both fall to Aldmeri Forces. Naval battles ensued in Lake Rumare surrounding Imperial City as well as along the Niben River leading to the Rumare.
■Hammerfell: The entire southern coastline fall to the Aldmeri Forces with the exception of Helgathe
4E 173
■Cyrodiil: Aldmeri Forces cross the Niben and advance towards Imperial city through the eastern bank surrounding Imperial city from the East, as well as the South and West.
■Hammerfell: The siege of Hegathe is broken, Imperial Forces make a stand in Skaven to fight off the advancing Aldmeri Force. Skaven fell to the Aldmeri, but the Aldmeri, severely weakened by the advance through the dessert are unable to continue their campaign.
4E 174
■Cyrodiil: The Thalmor leadership decides to focus their forces in the Cyrodiil campaign.
■Imperial City falls to the Aldmeri forces.
4E 175
■The Battle of the Red Ring takes place as the Empire embarks on a campaign to retake Imperial City, which fell to the Aldmeri Dominion the previous year. The battle was an Imperial victory, but not without heavy losses.
The Imperial Army are crippled, and both sides are barely to continue their campaign. Rumours of a peace treaty are being discussed throughout the land.
Prologue
Largash Bynum was born on a cold winter's day, high up in the Wrothgarian Mountains of Orsinium. He was the fifth child to be born in his family, having one brother and three sisters. The Bynum family where a well-respected family of Orcs in the local county, most people were convinced that the Bynum's were a bunch of assassins and thieves, who were backed up by bribing the local guard. Largash's father was in fact an assassin, but kept this secret until his sons came of age, only then telling them that their Father was a killer of the night. When Largash was 17 years old, his parents were presumed guilty of working with the Dark Brotherhood. His mother wasn't guilty in the slightest, but his Father….That was another story. The Bynum family where usually kept safe from bribing the local guards, however, the local Count of the town decided that he had enough of this corruption, and soon ordered the Bynum family to be executed. The Dark Brotherhood caught wind of this, and barely interrupted the execution by an unknown assassin striking the executer in the chest with a carefully placed arrow, allowing Largash's father to try to escape. His father escaped, then amidst the chaos the guards tried to eliminate the rest of the Bynum's, succeeding in striking all of them down except for Largash and his father. Largash escaped the town, soon making his way to Wayrest in search of his father.
After years of failure, Largash broke off to Hammerfell, in the city of Dragonstar, in chance that his Father might have crossed the border. After a few months, Largash began to realise there was little hope of finding him. He settled in Hammerfell, and began working as an extremely talented young Blacksmith. As people began to realise the young boy's talents, he was offered vast amounts of gold for becoming the Blacksmith of northern Hammerfell. He accepted this amazing offer, and it was there he discovered his lust for gold. He worked for the Jarl of the City Skaven, and it was from him he was granted land, and there Largash discovered his need for power. After some more years, he was tired of having a master, a superior shadowing over him. The Jarl knew of Largash's Jealousy, and stripped him off his land. Largash, classified as a criminal now, started a rebellion, an uprising, against the Jarl and his county. His rebellion was a complete failure. The Jarl bribed most of Largash's men to reveal his attacks and Largash's men where obliterated.
Largash left Hammerfell in embarrassment, and crossed the border yet again into the mighty Cyrodiil, home of the Empire. He set off on a small boat, with himself and a mercenary, named Thiolof. They smuggled themselves into Anvil's ports, and tried to set up a life there.
Largash knew how to use a blade thanks to his father. But Thiolof was an expert. Thiolof and Largash survived on the streets of Anvil together, hustling, scamming and stealing to survive. They made themselves quite a few gold, and together they bought enough gear to set off travelling throughout the province of Cyrodiil. It was then that Thiolof convinced Largash to steal a huge ship, by smuggling themselves on board. The ship was to set sail from the Vvardenfell port Vivec to the province of Skyrim. Vvardenfell was another province away, and the sea from Morrowind to Skyrim was a cold, foggy one. Thiolof somehow convinced him, however, and the two aimed to regroup in Vivec.
Morrowind, an unstable province of anarchy, is home to the Dark Elves. The Dark Elves are an unstable, dark race, known for their thievery and backstabbing. Their plan was to move to the province of Skyrim, a home to the Empire legion. The Empire home of Cyrodiil, expanded themselves to most parts of Tamriel, including Skyrim. At this moment, a terrible war is currently waging between the Empire and the Thalmor, who are a group of High Elf Soldiers. However, the Thalmor have won on every battlefield, and threaten to banish the nine gods that the Empire worships. Also known as the Nine Divines.
The Empire is being forced to make tough decisions. A year after their loss in the Imperial City, they decide to counter-attack and manage to win the city back, but not without heavy losses.
Because of all these recent happenings in Tamriel, Largash thought twice about smuggling into the most cautious province of Skyrim. Their aim was to steal the gold and set up a life there, much like their experience in Cyrodiil.
Thanks for reading my story guys, I will complete it when it im ready.
Also, you guys must read the Prologue, it will give you a fair amount of detail what Largash and Thiolof are aiming to do. Apoligies if Im doing this wrong, this is my first upload on this site. Let me know in a review or something. Also, criticiscism is welcome
Disclaimer : I do not own Elder scrolls.
CHAPTER I
4 E175
"You are getting pretty far, for a Nord," Largash boasted, as he hit his pickaxe of the mountain Cliffside. Thiolof ignored the crude comment and continued climbing up the mountain. Largash was an Orc, and he was proud to be one. All Orcs considered it an honor to be an Orc, and set themselves the highest goals, showing no weakness or remorse, or it would anger their god Malacath. Many Orcs considered him their leader, always trying to impress him and convince him that they have the right to be an Orc. Thiolof, however, a human Nord thought otherwise about gods. He believed in the nine divines, but ever since the Great War started, Thiolof knew that if the Thalmor somehow broke through and crushed the empire once and for all, the Nine Divines would be forbidden, and a new Era would begin, under High Elf rule. At this moment, Thiolof took it to pray to all the Divines.
Akatosh - The Dragon God of Time and the chief god of the pantheon.
Arkay - God of the Cycle of Birth and Death.
Dibella - Goddess of Beauty and Love.
Julianos - God of Wisdom and Logic.
Kynareth - Goddess of air and nature.
Mara - Mother Goddess and Goddess of love.
Stendarr - God of Mercy and Justice.
Talos - God of War and Governance.
Zenithar - God of work and commerce.
Largash was a tough Orc. He had long hair, shaped in the way of a thick mow hawk. He had a goatee, and was blind in his right eye, which was completely coloured white. He was always trying to prove himself to Malacath.
Thiolof was also a tough Nord. He had long, blonde hair coming down his sides, his face was a lit with scars and war paint, and he had a short beard.
He always wondered who would win in a brawl, Thiolof or Largash? It would be a good fight, as Thiolof thought as he climbed up the rocks to mountain. His foot slipped, and for a moment he thought he was going to fall, but his faithful friend Largash gripped his hand. "Watch your step," as Largash pulled him up onto the surface of the mountain. Thiolof thanked him for the help, but he didn't like being helped when he knew he could handle himself. As they stood together on the tip of the small mountain, they noticed the amazing view.
"Views like this are found all throughout the countryside outside of Anvil." Thiolof commented. He found himself shocked by the view, as he sighted the Imperial City in the distance. He was just about to imagine himself a warrior, commanding his troops from this mountain… "C'mon!" Largash shouted, interrupting Thiolof's train of thought, as he made his way down the mountain.
" How can you not appreciate a view such as that?" Thiolof said.
"It is not that I don't appreciate it, it is that I have seen better. I hope you remember that I grew up in the Wrothgarian Mountains." Largash Smirked. He continued walking down the mountain, stepping over rocks and ancient bones of creatures. It was until then he realised that he never knew of Thiolof's past. His questions where always met with "I didn't have much of a past, I travelled a lot", and so on. This time he was very curious. He then caught Thiolof's attention, "Thiolof, "He said.
"What now, Largash?" Thiolof was annoyed, as he just stepped on some Dung.
"In the time that I have known you, you have never mentioned your past. "Largash replied.
"This again?" Thiolof said, as he realised this had to have been the tenth time he's been asked. But he replied, "I'm a true native of Skyrim. Born in a quiet village, called Helgen." Largash was pleased he got this reaction off of him.
"My parents didn't want me at all, as far as I know. They must have been poor, as I've been told that I was found with just a cloth wrapped around my body when I was a baby."
"Where were you found?" Largash was intrigued to know more about his friend.
"On a horse, travelling through the road to Hammerfell. The people that took me in where kind, but sent me to the local orphanage in Falkreath. As far as I remember, it was horrible there, every kid for himself. I learned how to fight there, but soon I got into some bad trouble with the local Headmistress, so I ran away, and some bandits found me out in the wilderness. I was starving and cold. Strange enough, I probably would have died if those bandits haven't found me. I grew up with them, watching them raid villages throughout Skyrim and Hammerfell. I learned how to handle a weapon there. I trained with the sword, the bow, and the shield. I dispersed from them after most of them were arrested, and lived on as a mercenary in Hammerfell."
Largash received the information, but said nothing. He continued on, throughout the mountain, determined to get through to the next camping spot.
They arrived at their destination a short time later, which was an ancient fort located far west of the Imperial City. " You realise they call this place is haunted?" Largash lied.
"I'm not in the mood for your lies, Larg," Thiolof laughed.
"You never where the one to lie to, Thiolof. So, where is our next spot?"
"In an old Inn, on the Red Ring Road. Do you know of it?" Thiolof asked.
Largash shook his head side to side.
"It's an old in, for travellers. A lot of hunters and adventurers spend time in there. You also need not worry about the Thalmor. The area is mainly under Imperial control."
Largash was happy with a good inn, but he didn't like the sound of Imperials giving him a hard time. They don't like Orcs. Thiolof noticed his concern.
"Don't worry Larg, the Imperials would simply accept you in the inn. There's bound to be at least one of every race in there." Thiolof noted.
That calmed Larg down, but he still had a dark side for Imperials. He didn't like the idea of him and Thiolof in an inn that was more than likely going to be filled with drunken men with swords and axes. But, Largash and Thiolof knew that they could handle themselves.
Largash was sitting on a stone, feasting on his meat he caught a short time ago when he noticed Thiolof take out his book.
"Thiolof, you read?" Largash was startled. He never figured Thiolof to be the reader type of person. Orcs never read. Maybe a short exception, but they are weaklings. Most Orcs couldn't even read or write.
Thiolof nodded, in reply. "As do just about everyone in Tamriel." He continued.
"Sissy," Largash muttered under his breath, as he entered his tent to get to bed.
"What was that?" Thiolof said, annoyed. He didn't like Largash thinking he was above him.
Largash just chuckled, as he shuffled in his bed roll.
The two men woke the next morning to the cry of battle-horns. Largash woke up immediately, the noise reminded him of his childhood. He remembered watching Legionnaire soldiers guarding city walls, ready for battle, as others charged out on horses, while other soldiers fired catapults. At the time, Largash was afraid. Now, he welcomed the noise like it was his favourite song.
"Thiolof! Wake up, battle is near." He said.
"What?" Thiolof murmured, waking with a struggle. He suddenly realised what was going on, as he heard the cries of battle-horns. He got up, grabbing his sword at his side.
Largash took out his two axes, that was gifted to him by Lords, at his time in Hammerfell.
"We must get to high ground," Thiolof said, as he pointed at the hill on the other side of camp.
Largash ran over, and ran up the hill at high speed. Thiolof jogged on behind him, and joined his friend at the top of the hill.
The two gazed at the battlefield in amazement. Hundreds, of bodies lay everywhere, about 500 metres North. The bodies lay everywhere, in a huge field with a huge fort in the centre. The side on Largash's and Thiolof's right had the high ground. They had the advantage, both men thought. They looked in shock as hundreds of Imperial Legion soldiers charged at the hill filled with Aldmeri troops, getting shot down by arrows easily.
"Idiots." Largash stated.
Thiolof grunted in reply. This was a great war, and many more would die.
After a few minutes of gazing at the on-going battle, screams of pain replaced screams of war. Hundreds, of Imperials lay on the ground, motionless, and another hundred, lay on the ground screaming and saying their prayers. Thiolof turned away at the painful sight. Both men were on the Imperials side. "We should get going, the Aldmeri will approach us soon." Thiolof said.
The two men and mer approached their camp, gathered their things and set off. They trekked on, bashing their way through old trees in search of a main road. From there, they would be able to tell where they were going.
"Hold." Largash said. The two men got on their knees.
"What is it?." Thiolof said, with an uneasy feeling in his stomach.
"I'm not sure. Wolf, it looks like. I see three, they're feasting on a dead deer, by the looks of things. I think we should avoid these for now." Largash said.
"Although," Thiolof said, "We strike them with arrows and they'd be dead in a matter of seconds. Think about it, we would have some nice meat to feast on in the inn, and some nice fur pelts." Largash liked the sound of that. He took out his Father's bow, and dipped the arrow in some poison, and fired, straight into the wolf's neck. Right where he was aiming for. The wolf dropped dead and another wolf held his ground, searching for the attacker, and the other fled. Thiolof took out his steel sword, and charged at the wolf. Largash was surprised. The wolf jumped straight at Thiolof, hoping for a bite on his neck; but, the wolf jumped straight into Thiolof's sword. Thiolof pierced it's stomach.
"Nice. There's no good meat in the stomach anyway," Largash chuckled. Thiolof didn't smile, instead he took out his dagger, and began cutting the pelt.
Largash rose from the bushes, moving to the wolf, and he too took out his dagger. He cut his own pelt, and moved over to the deer to gather some venison.
"Largash, be careful eating that, that deer, it might be carrying all sorts of diseases." Thiolof commented.
"You sound like my mother." Largash said, as he looked at Thiolof and bit of a chunk of raw venison, saving the rest for the inn.
"Hmph." Thiolof replied.
Thiolof looked up, he saw a road. He felt relieved. He got up, packing his wolf pelt on his back, for extra warmth. "The inn isn't too far from here. We should be fine, sticking alongside the road. I don't want any confrontations with the Aldmeri. They'll stop us for sure."
"Aye," Largash said, cutting through the tough forest with his machete. The two men travelled alongside the road, inside the thick forest. Largash took that moment to think of his home, in High Rock. He remembered how he used to train all day with his wooden sword, hoping for his dad to come home for another training session. He remembered all the power he once had in Hammerfell, as a fine blacksmith. He gave up the craft after he was abolished from Hammerfell, and hasn't looked back since. Until now. He craved the feel of hot iron, burning in his hands. He missed how other Orcs from distant camps came from all over to learn from his ways. He missed the power he once had.
"Largash, you are awfully quiet. It is unlike you to have gone without talking for this long." Thiolof grinned.
Largash ignored the comment, and sat down in exhaustion, hoping for some rest. They had been walking for about 6 hours.
Thiolof laughed, "Getting tired are we?"
Largash didn't enjoy Thiolof being in a mood such as this. But, he was right. Now was not the time to be resting. How could he be so stupid? He said a quick prayer to Malacath for forgiveness, and the two men trudged on, in the pitch blackness, until they spotted a lighted up building in the distance on top of a hill. They had been walking for quite some time. Largash wanted nothing more than to rest in that inn and have a reviving mug of ale.
Largash knocked on the inn door, to find that the place was swarming with hunters of all sorts. A few stared at Largash and Thiolof as they entered, and a few carried on with their talking and drinking.
"Biggest mug of ale you have and a mug of mead for my Nord companion."
"Coming right up," The Imperial bartender said.
"So, you think you can drink eh?" Someone said behind him. Largash didn't know if it was aimed at him or not, but he ignored him. It was no doubt some stuffed up Imperial who thinks they're the toughest man ever to walk *Mundus.
"Oil! I was talking to you, greenskin." The man said. His accent was Cyrodillic, and as Largash turned around he sized the man up. He was big for an Imperial, but Largash was an Orc. He completely overpowered him. 'This is a challenge from Malacath' he thought to himself. 'A chance of forgiveness for showing weakness before'. He didn't take a moment to hesitate. Largash uppercut him in the stomach, followed by a forearm to his face and the Imperial was stunned, in pain and in shock. Largash laughed. He loved this inn. No guards, and far away from and trace of civilisation. He felt like all eyes were on him, but the truth is that only three or four men were staring at him. His fight was one of many in the inn, but Largash ignored it. Largash got him by his shirt, and the Imperial was scared out of his mind. Largash chuckled.
"Who's the greenskin now?" Largash said as he stared into the face of the winded Imperial, whose face was literally green. The man laughed in his face, and Largash shoved him on the floor, and sat back down on a free stool beside his friend. Thiolof laughed.
"Some other stranger swiped your ale while you were…occupied." He laughed some more.
"Do you plan to beat him up as well?" Thiolof continued.
"Another pint of ale?," Largash asked the bartender, ignoring Thiolof.
"10 Septims." The bartender said. Thiolof threw out his coin purse, before Largash.
"Get us a room as well." Thiolof said. He thought he could bribe Largash out of his foul mood.
"Sorry friend, the only rooms are bedrolls outside. Don't worry, there's a fire outside that will keep going throughout the night. Some Argonian kindly volunteered to keep the fire going with his magic, or something." The bartender said.
Largash smiled as he seen Thiolof took out his coin purse, but the smile wiped off his face as the bartender told them about the beds.
"Do you have a cook?" Largash asked.
"Of course. What do you want? There's some nicely cooked meat ready to be eaten."
"Actually, I was hoping if you could cook this for me," Largash threw the massive lump of venison on the table, and cut it in half.
"15 Septims."
"This is my steak, I killed it myself. All you have to do is cook it. 8 Septims."
"No can do, cook needs money. 10 and you have a deal."
"Bring it outside when you're done," Largash nodded, and went outside to escape the hot, sticky air filled with sweat and the stench of beer. He sat up, and opened the door to find five men gathered around the fire, all in mid conversation. They paused for a moment to look at Largash, and continued talking. Largash sat down, and waited on his venison.
The fire crackled, and the men and *mer all talked about each other's past. Largash didn't say a word, instead he just listened to the rest of the party.
"So, Kainus, what of your past?" A wood elf asked.
Largash looked at Kainus. He was a tough looking Redguard, dark skinned and bald, he had a curved blade at his side, and he wore a red, puffy top and white puffy jeans. He had a hood, the type you wore in a desert, at his side. All Redguards from Hammerfell wore garments like that, and Largash almost guessed his past immediately.
"You're from Hammerfell." Largash muttered a bit too loudly, and all the people around the campfire glared at him. It was the first time they heard him talk.
The Redguard looked startled. It took him a few moments to reply, "Uhh, yes. I was born in the city of Taneth, a city in the Alik'r desert. I left when the Aldmeri invaded Valenwood, and when they landed in the coast of Hammerfell. My family left to Cyrodiil and I followed."
"Coward.." Someone said. "I would have stayed and fought." Largash looked to his right. Beside him, a Nord with long black hair and war paint over is face stared at Kainus, visually and physically challenging him.
"You don't know me. If you did, you would not be saying that." Kainus replied.
"Bah." The Nord laughed.
"We Nord's aren't like you Redguards. We have honour. We fight 'till the death."
Kainus looked like he was about to cry with anger. He took out his curved sword. Largash remembered that the Redguards called it a 'Scimitar'. A curved blade made for slicing and killing. A preferred tool of the Alik'r warriors.
He pointed it straight at the Nord. The Nord was loving this. Any true Nord would, they were always up to the challenge. He rose up, and took out his blade.
"C'mon then, Redguard." The Nord taunted. The people around the campfire made room for the two men. Largash stood up, and he anticipated the duel. Kainus was an Alik'r warrior by the looks of him, and all Alik'r warriors are skilled with a blade.
The more confident always strikes first, and unsurprisingly, the Nord struck first with his blade, trying to catch out a weakness in Kainus' defence.
"Watch it, Farengar!" Another Imperial said. The Nord, called Farengar, continued striking, but his strikes were too wide. Kainus ducked a swing from Farengar, and curved his blade alongside his opponent, and struck him with a back hand, stunning him, leaving his defences down. Kainus could have struck him down, but let him live as he kept the Scimitar still at Farengar's neck. The Nord laughed. He was outclassed. He backed away, as did Kainus. Kainus sheathed his blade, but Farengar took this moment to cut Kainus across his chest. Kainus fell to the ground, shocked. The whole crowd gasped in shock. He was bleeding out, ready to die at any second.
"Never sheathe your blade in front of a Nord." Farengar said, as he towered over Kainus' dead body.
Largash was shocked. He couldn't believe what just happened before him. In anger, he drew his axe and smacked the heel in Farengar's face. Farengar writhed on the ground. His Imperial friend raised himself and drew a one handed war axe and ran at Largash. Largash readied himself and adopted a defence stance. The Imperial struck a well-placed strike at Largash's left shoulder, causing him to perform a weak block, and try and defend against the Imperial's next attack. Largash could tell that he was in the Legion. His attacks were like that of a Legionnaire, well placed and well-co-ordinated. But Largash was better than him. He could defend well, and once the Imperial wore himself out Largash would go on the attack. After five or six more strikes the Imperial halted, and he went on the defence. Then, Largash attacked like an Orc in frenzy, two attacks up high then another down low, and the Imperial couldn't defend them all. Largash swirled around to gain power, and the Imperial tried one last attack. Largash was too quick, as he blocked the attack and went on his knee, sending the Imperial flying over Largash's head. Largash rose, and walked over to the disembodied Imperial.
"Where you trying to kill me?" Largash chuckled.
"Aye," The Imperial said.
The code of Malacath slid through his mind…..telling him to show no pity or remorse of any kind. He obeyed his god, and ended the Imperial's life. The small group gasped at Largash's barbaric nature. Soon Thiolof opened the door, with a mug of ale. "What in the name of…What did you get yourself into now, Largash?" He asked.
Largash turned to face Thiolof, with blood splattered all over his face. "Come, let's go. We can't stay here." Thiolof noticed another Nord, rising off his feet and charged at Largash, sword raised. Largash anticipated it, and turned, defenceless, onto his knee, and the Nord flew directly over his head. Thiolof laughed, as he seen the Nord on the ground, who had just about had enough.
"You are weak, Farengar. I hope your gods pity you." Largash said, as he stepped on his neck, crushing it.
"Aye," Thiolof said.
"Come, we have to go. We can't stay here anymore." Largash stated.
CHAPTER II
4E 175
The two friends' sat in front of their campfire, far as they could possibly walk away from the inn, both craving for the venison that was promised them.
"It's too late to go hunting now, we will eat tomorrow." Largash said.
Thiolof agreed, eating some scraps of bread from the bottom of his satchel.
"So Larg, what of your past? I told you mine, it's only fair." Thiolof asked, with a grin
"Nothing too interesting. I lived in the Wrothgarian Mountains and then moved to travel around Tamriel." Largash said. He knew he wasn't giving away much, but he didn't like talking about his past.
Thiolof laughed. "C'mon Larg! There has to be more to it than that?" He smiled.
"No, there's not." Larg said, coldly. Thiolof's smile was wiped off of his face.
"What about your parents?" He asked.
Largash was quiet for a moment. He saw something move. What was it? It looked like a human, perhaps a thief?
"What is it, Larg?" Thiolof asked cautiously. He looked around him, hand ready to draw his sword.
"By the order of the Aldmeri Dominion, stop right there." A deep voice asked. This was the last thing that Largash and Thiolof wanted. The Aldmeri Dominion, come to arrest them and put them in prison for the remainder of their days. They moved out of the trees, the darkness sheathing them in cover. Largash realised that him and Thiolof where in the open, completely visible to preying eyes. He got the nearest bucket of water, put out the fire and drew his two axes, ready for battle. He didn't know how many of them there were, but he was ready to fight. Thiolof sensed danger also, and drew his two swords, which were passed on from generations in his family.
"If that's how you want it," The voice said. Thiolof sensed intimidation as he heard the muffled sound of armour move in on his position.
Whoom…
A ball of fire whizzed past his head. These elves where always good with magic. That's all the Aldmeri were. Elves. Thiolof hated elves. With Largash, being an exception. Orcs were ranked as elves too. He ran towards the fire ball caster who was sighted for but a few seconds as he gave his position away casting his spell, and Thiolof struck thin air, and felt a sword swishing over his head. He ducked, and stabbed in random direction. He could just make out the silhouette of his enemy, and used his sword to pierce straight through his enemy's armour. He looked to his left. Largash's legs were ablaze with fire, but the Orc swung madly with his axes, hitting every target, destroying his enemies. Thiolof did not worry for his friend, as every Orc had a mad power to ignore pain and focus all train of thought on hatred. Thiolof sensed no more danger, not seeing any movement in the shadows whatsoever, and risked lighting a torch. He moved his hand around the darkness in search for the torch he just dropped before the fight, and found it. He lit it once more, using his only spell. A weak, tiny ball of fire. The place lit up.
Largash turned to his right, sensing danger once more. It was Thiolof, lighting his torch.
"Put that out, Thiolof!" He shouted.
Thiolof threw the torch on the ground, giving the camp some much needed light.
"I think their all dead."
"Aye," Largash replied, as he dipped his legs into the pond. Thiolof was wondering, how could Largash have gone crazy like that? He didn't understand, but he more than likely saved his life.
"We must move, we obviously can't stay here. There is a town east from here. The place is called 'Hackdirt.' It should do." Largash said, as he interrupted Thiolof's train of thought.
Thiolof nodded his head in disapproval.
"I heard of the town, but it is too popular for a pair of smugglers. We will just have to keep moving. What do you say?"
"It doesn't look like we have much choice. Cyrodiil is a dangerous place nowadays. The Thalmar patrol the areas around here along with the Imperial Legion. Either one is dangerous to us. We must make haste, we will have to keep an eye out."
"Aye," Thiolof replied. They took their bedrolls and slung it on their backs, ready to travel across Cyrodiil. Both men worried about the journey, the mountains separating Cyrodiil and Morrowind where high, and tough to get past. They trekked through the night, both men remaining silent. Thiolof lead, Largash behind. Both men watching their backs, watching for the slightest movement in the trees.
Largash didn't think a lot about home. But he had to admit that he missed it sometimes. He missed his Father, teaching him how to smith and use a blade, which made Largash who he was today. He used to miss his power in Hammerfell, all the fame and glory he had there. In his heart, he truly wanted to become a feared warrior throughout Tamriel. He wanted to be the Malacath's champion. All of this was to come after the loot of the boat in Vivec.
Pffft….
An arrow hit his spine.
"Thio….." Largash hit the floor with a thud. He was out cold.
Thiolof sniffed the fresh air. He wasn't getting tired. He walked faster every step, until he was almost jogging.
Cling…
Thiolof heard it. He stepped on something. He kneeled, looking at the bear claw trap he narrowly missed. He chuckled, about to notify Largash of what happened. He lifted his head to find the Orc, but he wasn't there. The grass was up to his knees, perhaps Larg dropped something and was kneeling down to pick it up? No, Thiolof thought to himself. About to call his name, he heard the fast rapid sound of feet running through leaves. He put his hand on his sword handle, thinking it was Larg trying to pull a trick. Why would Larg do such a childish thing? He feared the worst. A sudden force dropped on him. He collapsed, looking up as a hooded figure held a dagger in his hand, about to slit Thiolof's neck. Thiolof was pinned, there was no way he could survive a dagger to the throat. The figure's hand glowed as he muttered some words that literally pierced into Thiolof's body. Thiolof was getting drowsy…..he was unconscious.
CHAPTER III
4 E175
?
Largash awoke in a small room. He looked up, and seen a man, with a shrouded hood in the corner, sitting on a chair.
"Where am I?" Largash demanded.
The man said nothing.
Largash didn't risk raising himself off the bed, for fear of the hooded man lashing out. That struck Largash like a hot piece of iron to the chest. Fear. It was rare for him to fear. The hooded man remained silent. This made Largash even more uncomfortable. He was getting worried, about all sorts of things. What was going to happen to him? Was this a special type of Elite Thalmor? He tried to take in his surroundings. He was wearing rags for clothes, which made him think. Where these prison clothes? Was he in a prison, in some sort of torture room? He didn't know. He looked at his bed, which was a simple piece of a double bed, covered in hay and fur wolf pelt for blankets. He couldn't imagine the diseases carried in that bed.
The hooded man stood.
"Largash Bynum." He said. How did this man know his name? Largash didn't bring any sorts of identification with him. Which brought him to a thought; was this man his father? No. He couldn't be. The hooded man is far too small for an Orc.
"You've been getting into trouble with the Thalmor, haven't you?" The man smiled. He broke out into a creepy laughter, followed by silence.
"Why have I been captured?" Largash said.
The man remained as silent as the void. Larg gave up on all sort of communication with this man, and lay on his bed once more, watching the standing man covered in black robes. After what seemed like an age, Largash was growing impatient. He was also getting even more scared and intimidated by this man. He felt hatred burst through him, and was it was almost enough to make him rise from his bed and kill the man. The man laughed as he seen the Orc bellow with rage. Largash rose, but the man simply raised his hand and shot some sort of spell out of it. Largash fell on the ground, and slipped unconscious once more.
Largash woke once more, in the same room as before. He was getting agitated.
"Someone, it turns out, has performed….The Black Sacrament….." The man said.
Thiolof awoke, coughing. The room was covered in dust. He could barely see. He got up from his bed, trying to find some sort of light and air before he choked to death. He then managed to just make out the image of a door, a few metres ahead of him. He entered, not knowing what lay in store for him.
There was a man, wearing robes, at the end of the hallway. Perhaps it wasn't even a man at all? He could not make it out through the dust. He ran at him, before the object even knew what hit it, Thiolof felt around for its neck, and pulled out the object's sword from its sheathe. It was obviously a man, dressed in mages robes, hooded. Thiolof held the sword around his neck, ready to slice it if necessary. He demanded answers.
"Where am I? Who are you?" The man remained silent.
" Talk or I'll kill you!" Thiolof shouted.
The man just laughed.
"What am I doing here?" Thiolof interrupted.
The man laughed even harder.
Thiolof slit his neck in an instant, without hesitation. The man dropped dead. Thiolof kneeled over to check what the man was carrying, but he was carrying nothing, except a key. He was a Dark Elf. Their Blue/Purple skin was impossible to not recognise. Thiolof pushed through the dust, noticing an Alchemy table, used for potions. Something clearly went wrong, the table was covered on black dust, probably burnt by an experiment gone wrong. That was obviously the cause of the dust. He pushed through the corridor as the dust began to clear, as he came to an ancient looking door. He used the key that the Elf was carrying, and to his surprise, the door opened. Sword drawn, Thiolof was prepared for the worst.
His friend, Largash, was on a bed, in a room much the same as his. A hooded man dressed in robes coloured black, was standing over Largash. Thiolof didn't hesitate, he ran at the man, ready to stab. The man turned, and Thiolof saw his face…..
Largash knew where this was going. The Black Sacrament was an unholy deed, carried out by someone who wanted someone dead. It was an unholy ritual, called out to summon the Dark Brotherhood. The Dark Brotherhood where a group of deadly assassins, who worshipped their god Sithis. They were called upon by Black Sacraments, and the caller asked the Dark Brotherhood to carry out the murder. After, gold was paid by the ritual caller. The Dark Brotherhood, are possibly the most infamous organization in Tamriel, and have been, since the early days of the First Era.
The door burst open, Thiolof came running in, sword drawn, ready to kill the hooded man. The assassin drew a blade out of his sleeve, and deflected Thiolof's blows with ease. Largash rose, ready to assist his friend, but something was pinning him down. He couldn't move. He was paralyzed. He could only watch as his friend fought against the assassin. As Thiolof swung he let his whole life's knowledge of the sword out in a series of attacks. However, the assassin was out of his league. The assassin laughed as he deflected every blow of Thiolof's using only his dagger. The assassin deflected Thiolof's last blow, as Thiolof decided that his attacks where nothing. His stamina was getting low, and he decided to defend. He stared against the assassin, ready to deflect any blows that he could swing.
"Easy…..Thiolof"
Thiolof heard a voice in his head…..was he turning mad?
"This…..assassin…..is no match….for you…kill him….."
Thiolof ignored the voice; he could only wait to deflect the blows that the assassin would throw at him.
"KILL HIM!"
A burst of energy swam through him. He lashed out, attacking the assassin. The assassin wasn't expecting this. He was channelling his energy, ready to strike.
Thiolof was too quick for him. He swung high, a risky manoeuvre, followed by twist backhand, which distracted the assassin as he blocked the blow. Thiolof swung at his left shoulder, glancing the assassin as he recovered from the previous blow. The assassin staggered back, and Thiolof finished him off.
"Yes…..Hahahahahahahaha…..Another soul…..for our Dread Father…."
Thiolof was frightened. It was not him who killed the assassin. It was…..the voice.
Largash was amazed. He thought Thiolof was dead for sure. His skill amazed him.
"Thio…..I can't move. There, on the table. It should cure the paralysation."
Largash didn't know if it did or not. It was worth a try. Thiolof slipped the potion into Largash's mouth, smelling it at first to make sure it was not poison. Largash got up, flexing himself in satisfaction.
"Where in Malacath did you come from?" Largash smiled.
"I was in a room, much like this. The assassin's apprentice was looking after me, but an alchemy experiment must have went wrong and the apprentice more than likely had to tend to it, leaving me unguarded."
Largash knew the rest. He was worried about their gear, and where they were.
"Have you any idea where we are?" Largash asked.
"No. We could be in Alinor, for all we know." Thiolof replied.
"Don't worry me, Thio." Largash said. He was worried, and he knew it. They set off down a corridor, in search of their gear. They found everything they needed in a chest in a storage room. They exited out a door, into the harsh midnight cold. Neither man minded the cold. Especially Thiolof. Nords have a special resistance to cold, as their homeland is Skyrim, an ancient tundra, covered in mountains and snow.
"What shall we do from here?" Thiolof asked.
"We need to keep moving. We can't stay here, we'll starve to death. We can't be far though. It's still night, it was night when we were captured." Largash commented.
The two set off and made camp a few miles to the east, using wolf pelts for beds.
Thiolof was in a city….wearing shrouded robes…he…felt….invisible…invincible!...He could not believe…..the power in his hands…..his target…a man….a fine Orc…to kill…..he was stalking him…..in the shadows…..the next corner the Orc would turn… would be his last….Thiolof got his weapon ready….a small dagger…sharp as tigers tooth…...The Orc turned the corner….Thiolof stabbed him…The Orc was Largash…..Thiolof didn't care…..
"Yes….kill the Orc! He is weak and you are strong…" A voice said….Thiolof was revelling in the killing…..no-one heard the screams of Largash….he was dead…..
CHAPTER IV
4 E175
Thiolof awoke sweating, heart beating fast from adrenaline. The camp fire was out, Largash was asleep. It was daylight. He didn't know what time it was. He decided to wake up Largash, and move out. Although, Thiolof was worried. It was a very strange dream, perhaps destiny? No, he thought to himself. That was absurd.
"You seem worried, Thio. Are you feeling alright?" Largash commented, as he woke up, and started to tread through the Countryside of god knows where.
"I'm fine. Just a bad dream. We should keep moving, not get distracted." Thiolof replied.
Largash knew he was right, as he examined a strange plant.
"What's this?" He said, "I've never seen anything like this before."
"Looks like a Nirnroot. You can tell by the ringing in your ear. It's a valuable plant when it comes to Alchemy. You can keep that, sell it to an Alchemist, and get a nice set of gold in your pocket." Thiolof commented.
Largash liked the idea of a new axe. His ancient axe, made of old steel, was getting weary. He stuffed it into his pocket, taking a bite of a small loaf of bread.
"So," Thiolof said, reading Largash's mind, "A new axe for you then?" He smiled.
Largash laughed. "You can be damned if you think I'm trading away my family's axe, but my other axe…..That is a different story. My family's axe is said to be enchanted to trap the enemy's soul within the axe, and passing on to a nearby soul gem."
Thiolof didn't know what to say. He looked down at his standard sword, made of Nordic Steel. Nord's are fine crafters of steel. Lots of them are surely gifted, and the one who made Thiolof's was a master. It cut through his enemy like a hot knife through butter, easily striking them down. Although, he wouldn't mind a nice enchantment on his sword. If only he had a spare bit of gold. That's what got him thinking, as they were both fairly short on gold.
"Larg," Thiolof said.
Largash ignored him.
"For the love of Talos, will you listen to me?" Thiolof was getting annoyed.
"Thiolof, you talk too much. Unless you have something interesting to say, I don't want to hear it." Largash replied.
"I was thinking, what if we were to enter a city under new names, and get ourselves some money by playing the mercenary for a while? The boat in Vivec isn't setting off anytime soon, we have plenty of time." Thiolof said.
Largash thought about it. He stopped, and looked up at the Imperial City in the distance. They both breathed a sigh of relief, as they could tell were they where. They were both still in Cyrodiil.
"I'm not sure about this, Thiolof. It seems risky. Let us think about it for a while."Largash said, not changing the subjet.
"So," Largash said, changing the subject, "There is a cave nearby, not too far away from Skingrad. It should be safe. We will set up a camp inside."
Thiolof didn't have anything to argue about, and he trusted Largash that there wasn't anything in the cave, such as bears and the like.
After another half hours walk, the two came to the cave entrance. Largash noticed something. Outside the cave walls, there were pikes, with skulls on them.
"This isn't safe. These symbols here, on the door symbolise Dark Magic." Largash said.
"Necromancy?" Thiolof asked.
"Possibly."
All of a sudden, Thiolof felt drowsy. His hearing dulled down, and he heard the symbols….Speaking. There was a bright, multi-coloured light, drawing him in to the cave. It was like a whisper, as if the wind was speaking…...He couldn't help but enter, he needed to. As he just opened up the door, he felt an unreal sense of calmness wash over him, almost saving him. The sense to enter the cave was gone. He turned around, wondering what had happened. The encounter felt like it was a mere dream, and he wanted to wake up. There was a hooded man in orange robes, to Thiolof's astonishment. "Who are you?" Thiolof shouted.
"Relax, you need to rest. You do not know it yet, but I have saved your life. Your friend, I cannot say the same…." He looked down at Largash, who was on the ground, breathless. His eyes where as black as the void.
"Save him!" Thiolof shouted. He could not do this without Largash. And, on top of that, he was a good friend.
The hooded man uttered some chant, and placed a potion bottle at Largash's mouth, so he could consume it. The man continued to chant, but this time he moved his hands. Thiolof was astonished as he seen magic, come out of the man's hands. He had never seen such a spell.
Largash started breathing. His eyes began to come back into focus. But he did not move.
"Is he paralyzed?" Thiolof said.
"He is not paralyzed. He is still sleeping. I have awoken him, but he is without soul. The cave, has consumed it, as it almost had done with you. If you want him back, you will need to enter the cave, retrieving the soul. If, you are up to the task, that is."
"Very well." Thiolof drew his sword. The cold dark air tickled his cheeks. He was ready to enter, until the man interrupted him.
"Do not be foolish. The cave will consume you also if you just enter unprotected. Here, take this scroll. It is enchanted, said to keep away any dark spirits. It will protect you." The man said.
Thiolof took the scroll, and inserted it into his satchel.
"Akatosh guide you…" The hooded man said, as he stepped into the shadows.
Thiolof entered the cave, oblivious to the voices calling him.
It was cold. The first thing that Thiolof felt was the cold that brushed his face. He could barely see. He felt best to take raise his hands and cast his small, puny fire spell that gave the smallest of light. After he closed the door, he stepped down ancient looking stairs. The hallway was tiny. Thiolof was just small enough to step down the tunnel. He continued stepping down the staircase, which seemed to go on forever. At the last step, Thiolof felt his magicka drain from him. His flame went out. Magicka is an ancient energy used by Mages, to cast spells. It didn't surprise Thiolof that it took him so few moments for his magicka to drain. He was never a Mage, after all. When the flame went out, Thiolof felt empty inside. The cave was completely black. He felt demoralized, and he thought about turning back, leaving the entrance, and leaving Largash for dead. After all, how was he, Thiolof, to retrieve this soul of his friend's? He took out his scroll, hoping it would have some answers to his questions. As soon as he opened his satchel which contained the scroll, he felt courage sear through him. Light surrounded him completely, and he decided to continue on, without fear.
He opened the scroll, and was surprised to see just an eagle like symbol, encrypted on the scroll. He tried to remember his uncle's old saying about magicka symbols. He managed to remember that the eagle shaped symbol symbolised the Magicka School of Restoration. Restoration was a kind, healing school of Magic. It involved casting shield like Wards, and had powers to heal. It didn't surprise Thiolof that this scroll kept dark beings and spirits at bay. He continued walking, and seen a large, stone door, with ancient carvings. The door opened without hesitation, more out of fear than respect, he thought. When the ancient door opened, Thiolof felt uncomfortable. He felt like he had a trapped spirit within him, trying to get loose. He decided to take out the scroll. It….burned him. Thiolof felt immense pain as he held the scroll, and he dropped it in agony. The scroll burned on the stone floor of the cave. He felt…..relief.
He got up; cast another flame spell, which was possible as his magicka regenerated. The light from his hand revealed much. The cave…was more of an ancient ruin than a mere cave. He was in a massive ruin, with ancient carvings of men and women, towering over smaller men and women. Thiolof sensed that this was a place of evil. His flame began to flicker, so he continued on. He did not want to be left in the dark. He felt spirits within the cave, but he always felt as if the spirits were keeping a large distance away from him. As if…..they were afraid….or stalking him. Thiolof flame was about to die out. He was getting worried…..even scared. He had no choice, it was either try to run back to the entrance or continue in search of Largash's soul. It seemed strange, but he continued on.
He caught sight of another door ahead, thinking it was leading to the exit. He didn't care about his friend now; he just wanted to get out of here, despite his previous thoughts. His flame was out, and he thought the spirits were closing in on him. So he ran towards the door, and crashed into it. It didn't open. He crashed against it, hoping it would open. But it wouldn't move. As he processed the situation, he noticed two switches. The two switches had to symbols. He recognised one – it was the eagle symbol of restoration. The other, was a strange symbol, which Thiolof could not recognise.
He decided to pull the switch with the Restoration symbol on it. After all, judging by how the door he entered through earlier, he noticed that it opened in fear of the Restoration symbol. Perhaps this door would be the same?
As soon as he successfully pulled the lever down, he knew he was wrong.
Darkness consumed him, he felt drowsy. He tasted gas on his tongue….and he felt the spirits all around him. He was paralyzed, to be sure. He was on his back on the stone floor, looking up into blackness as his vision blurred. He was unconscious.