Emperor or not, there's no way I'm going into that, Liallan thought fiercely as she reached the top of the plateau and caught sight of the spectacle. Beneath the heavy red sky, Kvatch lay before her, a ruined shadow of its former glory. The walls were partially ruined, the city showing signs of having been assaulted simultaneously from many sides. The main gate had been shattered into pieces but whatever lay beyond was completely obscured by another gateway of a completely different kind. Stationed before the crumbled entrance to the city was a portal wreathed in flames, surrounded by stony spines shooting up from the ground. The ground was charred and worn and dotted with bodies both of the slain daedra as well as the fallen defenders of the city. Even as she hurried closer, those soldiers who were still alive attacked the group of clannfear that had just stepped out of the portal, picking them off with arrows from behind a hastily-constructed barricade.

Liallan unslung her bow and joined the fray, loosing arrow after arrow at the clannfear as some of them circled around the barricade to get to the mortals while others tried to tear down the tipped stakes. After ensuring her approval, Grey rushed forward, biting and clawing at the back of a daedra as the soldier it was fighting veered out of the way of its attack. Within a few moments the rest of the daedra were dispatched, but Liallan didn't fail to notice how fatigued the watchmen of Kvatch seemed, the little skirmish having sapped away at their already meager reserves of energy. Most were sporting injuries of some sort, and all of them seemed to be dead exhausted.

Striding to confront the group Liallan was stopped by one of the guards, an Imperial with a gruff face and short-trimmed hair.

"Who are you? This is no place for civilians," his voice had the ring of authority, but the bitterness and exhaustion nearly obscured it.

"Well, in that case I'll let you conclude that I'm not a civilian," Liallan answered dryly, frowning slightly at the smell that was currently assaulted her nose. "What exactly happened here?"

"What happened? We lost the damn city is what happened!" the guard exclaimed, his features twisting briefly to reflect every ounce of the pain he felt. "It was the middle of the night, the city was asleep, when suddenly Oblivion Gates opened right outside the city! A massive siege engine took the walls down before anything could be done. From there, it was just the daedra, the people, and us, the guards, trying to get everyone somewhere into safety even though most of the time you didn't know if there was a man or a daedra standing behind you..." His voice lowered to a bitter whisper. "It was just too much, too fast... We never had a chance."

Liallan stared at the Oblivion Gate as she listened, attempting to imagine the horror that was visited upon this city of Cyrodiil. After a moment's silence, she asked quietly,

"And what is the current situation?"

"Most of the populace has been killed," the guard said, as if having trouble believing it. "Either in their homes, when the siege engine struck, or in the streets, cut down by the daedra. A few made it out of the city, I suppose you've seen them on the way here. However, most of the survivors are trapped in the Chapel. They can't get out since the city is still crawling with daedra. We'd go in and clear them out, but so long as that Gate over there remains open, it's unthinkable. First of all, if we left our positions the daedra would be free to assault the camp. But even if it weren't for that, we can't rush into battle with that thing at our backs. We'd find ourselves attacked from two sides, which would probably equal suicide." The Imperial fell silent for a moment, then gave a mock laugh. "I apologise. It seems I'm forgetting my manners. I am Savlian Matius, Captain of the Kvatch guard, and while I can't imagine why you would want to get involved, I welcome any help you can provide." He shook his head in bitter amusement, appearing bewildered by the idea that manners and etiquette still mattered in any way.

"Help with what?" Liallan demanded. "Do you have a plan, or are you just sitting here, waiting for a miracle to happen?"

"In a certain way, you could say," Savlian replied with a heavy sigh. "As I explained, our problem lies with the Gate. However, we know it's possible to close it, since the enemy has closed the original one." He paused and stared at the burning portal with equally incinerating anger. "I've sent a score of our lads into there. They were supposed to find a way to close it. They haven't come back," he added softly. "I can't spare any more men to send into that Gate. As of now, our hands are tied. There isn't much to do other than stand our ground, kill anything that comes out of that Gate, and... yes, wait for any developments. Pray..."

His expression was gloomy as he turned away to answer the summons of another guard,

Liallan shook her head in disbelief as she stared at the remains of the city and mulled over the events of the last minutes. She had ridden to Kvatch as fast as Dapple's legs would carry her and had then left the mare hidden in the woods. Walking up the mountainside, she had found herself confronted with the news of Kvatch's fate for the first time.

The makeshift camps of distressed survivors had been a sorry sight. Some of them huddled together in small groups, speaking quietly. Most of them had been brooding and withdrawn, a few were crying. No fires had been lit - from their tales she supposed they had all had their share of fire for the time being.

One of the survivors had been raving mad, screaming something about how the Gods had abandoned them and how Tamriel was to face its own doom. Now, standing before the city and surveying the aftermath, Liallan felt inclined to agree.

Martin, the priest, had not been among them, a fact that caused her no small amount of distress. While she sympathised for the city, she had no doubts whatsoever about what she would've done had he been in the camp, but no, things just had to go and get difficult.

Thus, Liallan found herself in a predicament. The survivors, hopefully including the would-be Emperor, were trapped in the city for as long as the Gate was standing. After all these hours, it seemed unlikely that it would close by itself. Those sent inside hadn't returned, and the guards could be of no further help...Which left her with two options - one, really, if she wanted to scavenge any sort of success from this disaster.

The Oblivion Gate was humming softly on the other side of the battlefield. The fiery edges looked expectant, almost inviting.

"Sweet gods and demons, you've got to be kidding," Liallan swore under her breath. Oh no, there is just no way I am going on a stroll through Hell with a foolish hope of accomplishing something a score of experienced, hardened guards failed to do - a hell that has spawned enough monsters to destroy an entire city in a few hours, no less. I might as well jump off a cliff instead, the result would probably be the same.

Several minutes passed. A few more daedra came out - with a daedroth this time - and were cut down by the guards. The Gate showed no signs of wearing down, fading, or anything else that might possibly indicate that it had a life expectance of any sort and that it was coming to an end. The guards could probably keep this up for a few more hours, but with each passing minute their swords grew a little heavier and their minds a little foggier, and every new mistake they made had a chance of being the last...

All that infernal cloud cover didn't seem to be lifting, either.

Seriously? I know nothing about the realm of Oblivion. How do I even know if the place has breathable air?

Another minute.

Time might as well have been standing still. It was obvious nothing was going to change until someone did something about it.

And the only person who was currently available was...

Nope, no way.

"Garth, get down to the camp. Tell the people to pack their possessions as quickly as they can and head to the crossroads. Let us know when they do, we'll escort the lot of them east to Skingrad..." the Captain's voice interrupted her reverie.

"Sir, what about the city and those in the Chapel?"

"We've already lost the city, dammit! As for the survivors, there isn't anything we can do for them right now. So we can either stay here until the daedra finally finish us off, or we could make ourselves useful and keep those outside of the city safe. That bloody Gate can't remain open forever. We'll take care of the daedra in the city as soon as it closes, so let's just pray to the Gods that it will still be any good."

"Sir," another guard approached the Captain, and the one to have been appointed messenger seemed reluctant to leave, "Surely there's still something we can do short of abandoning them to their fate? We could make a sortie, get them out as quickly as possible, stay back to-"

"Vesilius, think about it. A lot of them are injured, many may not be fit to walk. How quickly do you think they would be able to move? How would we control the situation, with daedra pouring in from all sides?"

"We could distract them, we could..."

Liallan sighed. In all her years, she had hardly done anything that was truly crazy, stupid, or suicidal. In fact, she rather prided in keeping a cool head and making sensible decisions at all times... Granted, it hadn't always kept her out of trouble...

"Captain!" she called to the man, interrupting the debate. Matius turned to look at her. "Abandoning the city is not an option."

"Then tell me what other choice we have!" he replied bitterly.

"How long has it been since you sent the men into that Gate?" She asked calmly.

"It's hard to keep track with a sky like that, but it's been too long. If they had any chance of succeeding they would've already done so. You're not actually intending to follow them, are you?"

Liallan sighed. Here goes...

"I am. All I ask is that you and your men stay here for a few more hours. If I'm not back, act however you see fit. If I close the Gate, we'll take back the city. In the meantime, they should try to get some rest."

Savlian was staring at her, shaking his head softly.

"You... You're serious, aren't you? Well, you don't look like you could possibly take on that Gate, but it's still a chance. Good luck, then. If you find the men, help them finish the job. If not... do it on your own."

"Right." Liallan crossed the barricade, gesturing Grey to stay. She couldn't guess how the wolf would react to whatever lay on the other side of that portal and preferred it if he stayed on Nirn. Nearing the Gate, she heard Savlian Matius call at her,

"Hey! You've got a name, Dunmer?"

"Yes, I do," Liallan said, not caring to satisfy his curiosity any further.

She was in front of the Gate now and while the fire didn't actually seem that hot, the surface was blinding to look at. With one hand shielding her eyes she took a deep breath, choked on a lungful of ash, drew her sword and crossed the remaining distance to the portal. She could feel the scalding energy - not quite heat - inches in front of her.

Liallan hesitated, uncertain what to do next. Slowly, she raised her arm and reached out, ready to pull back any moment as she slowly plunged her palm into the rippling surface of the doorway...

What a peculiar sensation, feeling that tingling in your hand and knowing it's just your blood crossing into a different plane and out again to flow back to your heart... If I survive this, I'll look up how planar travel actually works... Yep, there's a good motivation.

I'm actually doing this, aren't I? Of all the unreasonable ideas I've ever had, this one will beat the record.

Liallan took a deep gulp of what was perhaps her last taste of Nirn air.

To hell with reason.

Liallan chuckled at the pun.

And then she stepped through.