Chapter 1:

"The Tale Unfolds"

There was a loud rapping sound coming from the front door of the Benirus Manor. A tall slender Nord woman with flaxen hair opens the door to see a short light skinned Breton standing on the porch. The Breton is wearing leather breeches, a white cotton shirt and is carrying a leather satchel full of quills, parchment and other items. His dark brown wavy hair falls to his shoulders and has been neatly combed.

"Yes, may I help you?" the Nord woman asks.

"I am Dimitri Perrick of the Black Horse Courier and I am here to see Kalthar Dark-Heart, the Hero of Kvatch," he stated politely.

"My father hates it when people call him that. Please come in," she says.

"My apologies, I did not realize that he disliked being called a hero. Anyway I have an appointment with your father," Perrick said as he entered the manor.

"My father is upstairs in his study on the second floor. I will show you the way."

"Thank you, my dear. Alas, what is your name?" he asked.

"I am Rauha," she stated .

Perrick follows Rauha through an archway on to the right of the front door that leads to a dining room complete with a large oaken table and four sturdy oaken chairs. Rauha leads Perrick through another archway on the left and to the stairs leading to the second level of the manor. They walked down a short hallway where Rauha stopped before a wooden door on the right and tapped upon it quietly.

"Come in," said a stern but polite voice on the other side.

Perrick entered the small study and Rauha closed the door silently behind him. A man was sitting behind a mahogany desk reading a tome bound in dark leather. Kalthar Dark-Heart looked up and Perrick noticed an old battle scar going down the left side of his face from the top of his ear to his jawline. His light brown hair had turn mostly grey and was hanging loosely down halfway down his neck. The Nord's ice blue eyes seemed to bore a hole through Perrick all the way to his soul.

"Ah, Mister Dimitri Perrick," Kalthar said. "Please have a seat."

Perrick was waved to a large leather covered chair and sat down.

"My thanks, sir. As you know I am here on behalf of the Black Horse Courier and the upcoming festival celebrating the anniversary of the end of the Oblivion Crisis."

"You are really here hoping to get the biggest scoop of the new era and make a grand name for yourself," Kalthar blurted.

"Ahh…ahh," Perrick stuttered.

"Do not look ashamed that is why I invited you here, today. To tell my story before I pass on Sovngarde where I will feast and drink within the Halls of Heroes with my old friends and family," Kalthar stated.

"Eh, Sir Dark-Heart where in your tale of the Oblivion Crisis would you like for me to begin?" Perrick asked.

"First off, please call me Kalthar or just Kal as all my friends do," He stated proudly.

Kalthar sat back in his mahogany leather chair with his fingers clasped together under his chin and began to think where the story officially began.

After a few moments of silence, Kalthar said, "Well my story begins a few days before the assassination of Emperor Uriel Septim VII in Imperial City…"


Kalthar was sitting at a table in Luther Broad's Boarding House in the Elven Gardens District of the Imperial City doing his best to best his best friend and comrade Skarsog gro-Kharbuk in an ale drinking contest. But it was a losing battle as the Orc had a great constitution and could down nearly three mugs of ale to Kal's one and a half. Kal and Skar had just made it into Imperial City only this afternoon after a month's long trek from Skyrim where they had been hired by some merchant to protect his caravan from the city of Solitude to Markarth. The two warriors had chosen to leave the merchant's employ after filling their purses with gold and to seek their fortune in the south in the Imperial province of Cyrodiil.

Kal was a long way from his homeland but the capital of Cyrodiil was a warmer and busier place than his home in the small village of Dragon Bridge in Skyrim. Skar on the other hand was enjoying his journey as he was on a quest to be the biggest and baddest Orc warrior in his clan. He was from the Orc Stronghold of Mor Khazgur located to the west of Solitude in the far western reaches of Haafingar Hold. Skar was tagging along to prove himself as one, if not the, greatest Orc Berserkers of his clan and to kill as many bandits and vagrants as possible.

This afternoon Kal was losing the contest with his friend but everyone around them was having a good time, even the serving wench sitting on his lap. She was a dark haired Imperial girl wearing a brown dressing and cheering him on to finish this last tankard. The raucous noise of the friends trying to out drink each other was starting to wear thin on the City Watch who were in the tavern to have a drink with comrades.

"Quiet down, over there!" shouted one of the guards.

"Nos yous shuts it, you filthy Imperial. I am drinking wis me friend," the drunk Orc shouted back.

"Now Skar, der is nos need fer calling dem filthy. Dey just stupid and don't know who dey mommas is," laughed the equally drunk Kalthar.

Well that did not sit too well with the four burly guards of the Imperial City Watch. They stood up and walked over to the table where Kalthar and Skarsog were laughing and belching while they were downing more tankards of ale.

"You two have had enough," said one of the guards in an authoritative voice. He was wearing the steel plate armor with the markings of Captain on his shoulders.

"Enough? I's tells you wats, youse momma is a stinking skeever!" shouted Kalthar.

"Yeah, whose laid wis an ugly ass goblin," Skarsog laughed.

The captain's face turned crimson red and he slammed the back of his gloved fist into the face of the Nord warrior. Kalthar was knocked backwards out of his chair and onto the floor. His flagon of ale flew into the air spilling its contents onto the serving wench and himself. At that moment the Orc jumped up from the table and slammed his meaty fist into the face of the nearest guard. The guard's head jerked to the side and he crumpled in a heap on the floor. The guard's two comrades quickly drew their steel swords and charged at the Orc.

Kalthar rolled to the right just as the Captain's foot was coming down towards his chest. Kalthar stood up facing the Imperial guard captain and threw a haymaker with his right fist towards the captain's face. The captain easily dodged the blow and kicked at Kalthar's legs causing him to fall to the floor once more. Kalthar quickly rolled backwards and stood up to assess the situation. He looked over at Skar to see how well he was faring and saw that he was being beaten backwards towards a corner by two guards brandishing steel swords. Kalthar decided at that moment to forget the captain and he charged at the guard farthest from Skar. Kalthar lunged and tackled the guardsman to the ground and bashed his head into the stone floor.

The other guard ignored the noise behind him intent on knocking this big ugly Orc out. Skar bent his knees readying for the strike that he knew was coming from the Breton guard before him. Just as he expected the guard raised the sword clenched in his fist back and aimed it at the Orc's head. Skar dodged to the left and caught the guard's hand still clenching the sword and hit him square in the face with it. The guard fell to the floor unconscious. Skar moved to help his friend Kal deal with the captain.

A sharp whistle blew and both Kalthar and Skarsog grasped their ears with their hands. After the noise subsided they both looked up and stared straight into the face of the captain of the City Watch and a reserved of a dozen watchmen, with their swords pointed at the two warriors.

"Dis is a good day to die," Kalthar stated looking at his big green friend.

"No I think not," the Captain said. "You will surrender!"

The Orc threw his head back and bellowed a deep might bellow. The two comrades started laughing and charged the soldiers. The fight was over quickly as the Captain and his soldiers subdued the warriors and slapped them in iron wrists.

"Off to the Imperial Prison for these two for public drunkenness and attacking the City Watch. Lock them in the deepest and dankest hole you can find" the Captain of the Watch said.

"Yes, sir, right away sir," the Sergeant said