Cearbhail:

It's been a while. But... we're back. And boy are we back.

Anyway, enjoy =^.^=

[Bloodstain]

Bloodstain's Journal entry: 3rd Sun's Dawn

The Midnight of 3rd Sun's Dawn will forever be scarred as the day the Beast races were introduced into Solitude. The Nords and Elves were screaming throughout the night. The Night has already been named the Night of Blood-soaked Tears. The lives of the Nords and Elves slaughtered by the blood-raging Argonians and Khajiits have left a bloodstain on the streets. Rivers of slaughtered families forever staining the sewers of Solitude. If the Beasts were ever to return to the under-city as where they lived for centuries before today, I am sure they would all go blood-crazy living in the blood-soaked canals making up their living conditions.

It is fortunate that one Khajiit has risen up to take the mantle of responsibility for her race. For all beast races. The first Arch Mage of the Reformed Crimson Blades, a Khajiit by the name of Nishera, has stepped in to take care of the blood-rage condition of her family. The families that survived the Night of Blood-Soaked Tears were outraged, frustrated that murderers could so easily be forgiven. And in a town where Nords have lived as cattle for centuries in a time where they believed they were coming back on top in the world, only to be proven wrong by the actions of their own High Queen siding with elven citizens over discrimination violence, and now throwing in what Nords thought about what were essentially animals in their hearts and minds, and you have a volatile situation brewing where I can see the rising frustration of the Nordic populace seeing their needs once again thrown to the side in favor for what would be described as second-class citizens.

My actions in the Night of Blood-soaked Tears did not help with the growing frustrations of the Nordic population either. The families seeking vengeance for the lives of those slaughtered tonight were trying to break into the only safe-place the non-blood-raging beast-kin. Innocents caught in the middle of two raging parties trying to find peaceful coexistence with their elevated neighbors. How could I let these citizens face the wrath of their neighbors for a crime they have not committed? It was the question of the Nords slaughtering the elves in the Elven District all over again. And with the same results. Many of the Nords did not want to listen. Many tried to get through me to get to the beast-kin. I Thu'umed to silence their protests. Fus does a lot to calm the nerves of confused hostiles.

These attacks occurred around 2 in the morning. It is now 6 in the morning. I have not rested since the city bled. Neither has Nishera or Anise. The three of us are working together to fix the source of the blood-raging condition. Vivian and Strom continue to patrol the medical center trying their best to calm the rising nerves of the tense city. Vivian tries to her best to reassure the masses that those responsible for the slaughter of their families will be dealt with, punished or pardoned for actions controlled or uncontrolled. Enabled or coerced. That is my part in this investigation. I'm to determine who, what, and why this happened. From what Nishera told me… her family visited her in her sleep. They told her that Nords instigated the slaughter. I'm to determine exactly what happened.

This city is bleeding, and if I don't act fast, it is sure to become one hell of a…

Bloodstain…

…

Sitting and waiting. The two things I hate to do the most, but most often than not, the most useful traits to hold onto. Keeping awake, another trait I've learned that can be one of the most vital things to learn when undergoing an investigation. Four hours, I've sat in a chair, watching Nishera clean her family members of any remaining signs of the blood-rager disease. No more would these dangerous avengers be allowed to lose their minds in a bloodlust bath of whoever ends up in front of them. Nishera was waiting with her resting family as we spoke. While she was with her family, I was sitting in the morgue portion of the medical center with Anise.

All the corpses of the deceased blood-raged Khajiits, Argonians, and Khajians and Arjiits (that's what we're calling the half-breeds now) that were gathered by our resident Stormcloaks were brought back to the morgue to be examined by our one leading scientist/doctor: Anise.

Anise was busy performing an autopsy on four corpses as I sat here. An autopsy on each dead race of blood-rager. Since there were non-blood-rager corpses too, those ones were autopsied first. It's been 100 years since anyone has had the opportunity to examine any beast-kin corpse before. No official autopsy existed for any known beast-kin. And Anise was surprisingly the best suited for examining corpses for any unusual signs of magical interference. Dominion genetic designers at their best.

"I thought you weren't qualified for cutting into corpses." I said nonchalantly to the small Bosmer woman with muddied green hair and crisp blue eyes. She looked small compared to the large Cathay-raht tiger siting on her medical table. Her white lab coat was already stained red, her sleeves still dripping blood onto the floor. Black blood. A theorized cause of the blood-rager disease.

Anise tucked away a strand of green hair from her right eye, keeping it tucked behind her chipped right ear. A smear of blackened blood ran across her green hair, giving it an oily shine. Her ear bloodied by the same motion. "I can't handle operating on living people. Dead people… there are no mistakes I can make that can prove fatal." She gave me a huge grin. "Necromancy joke. Haha." Her voice was calm, melodic. She was home in this field. She was having the time of her life.

I rolled my eyes. "Next thing you'll tell me is that you're a necromancer."

Anise snickered at the thought. "Even if I was… with the total Silence enveloping the land, I doubt I'd be able to do anything. Necromancy, like any magick I believe, has to be controlled by magick. If those links, those chains, were ever… severed, the reconstructed corpses the necromancer would be controlling would no longer be under their control. And if an eager person were recreating legends of this world… say like this Nrillia I heard about, as well as the Glass Arrow you ran into…" Anise glanced at me. "I read your report on that incident by the way." Anise glanced back down at the Khajiit corpse she was currently working on. "I'd imagine that without that link connecting the necromancer to the subject… the experiment… or companion if you're feeling silly, would snap. And the now reliving corpse, finding themselves in a new world resurrected filled with dark magick would develop a twisted mentality. One that could potentially allow that resurrected being a darker meaning to their purpose. The Dark Glass Arrow, if you would. Or even… the Dark Dragonborn." Anise gave me a knowing glare.

"You are well-informed." I felt the hairs on my back beginning to rise.

Anise continued her knowing glance. "Who's to say?" She went back to observing the dead Khajiit. "I'm the first person to ever examine a Khajiit… and a blood-rager?" Anise scoffed. "I'm the luckiest girl ever. I mean… I'm seeing things I've never seen before. Example…" Anise waved to me. "Come see this."

I sighed as I rose from my chair. I quickly strode over to her, bending over top of her small frame. I glanced over her shoulder down at the massive Cathay-raht. The tiger-kin was massive, easily 9 feet, or 3 meters, tall. He made me feel like how Anise must feel walking around a town full of Nords.

"Just imagine, if I were in the northern wastes trapped in the middle of the night… I would suggest crawling inside this thing to survive the freezing winter winds." Anise snickered at the thought. "Just you and me… curled up together."

I coughed at the comment. Not intentionally. I never handled the smell of deceased people very well, and even now, whatever I was smelling, it wasn't improving my gag reflex. I turned my head away, holding in a violent impulse to vomit.

Anise saw me turning away, gagging. She chuckled at the thought. "I know, I know… who'd want to date an elf like me? Ooh.. stinky cannibal." Anise glanced over to one of the Argonians. "Huh… I wonder what Argonians taste like. I wonder how they all differ in taste."

"You'd eat carrion?" I kept my head turned away. Whatever it was I smelled, it was foul. It was turning my stomach.

Anise turned her head back to the beast-kin. "Normally, no. It would have to be fresher than this. I mean… biologically, I am able to. We ate carrion all the time, and my stomach is capable of eating maggot-infested meat. And I have to admit… I'm salivating at the sight of this feast before me. But… I must resist. I can't examine the post-meal remains."

"So, what did you want to show me anyway?" I turned back around, keeping my nose pinched tight as I bent back down over Anise's shoulder.

"Oh, mostly I just wanted you to lean over me, and then do this." Anise leaned back, placing her back to my chest. She gave herself a good rub on my chest, cooing as she took in the moment. "But other than that, I wanted to show you the liver in the battle cat." She pointed to a swollen organ. The organ almost seemed too comically large to fit comfortably inside the Khajiit man. "See? Now, I haven't examined every Khajiit known to man… but… I'm sure that liver is twice the size it should be, if we're comparing it to the size of the other organs around it. Now, the liver helps filter out toxins entering the body. Eating sewage… I'm guessing that's something the liver needs to protect against. Their enlarged livers might be an evolutionary necessity in order to process the engorging of sewage."

"Sounds about right. So, why point it out?" I looked down at her.

Anise's eyes were wide with excitement. "The others… don't have it." Anise quickly jumped off her stool and ran over to a non-rager Khajiit Suthay. "This woman… her liver is normal. Take a look."

I hurried after the Bosmer. A quick look at the Suthay woman revealed… a normal liver. Well, maybe not normal. It was still larger than what normal livers look like, but it wasn't bulging. "Not normal by any means…"

Anise glanced at me with an inquisitive glance. "Oh? You're a medical examiner now?"

I nodded. "Training included with the mask given to me. As well as brooding, standing on rooftops during cloudy stormy nights. Fitting in tight leather. Appreciation for medical gauze, hard liquor. Cheap motels. Semi-homoerotic moments with manly teammates. Appreciation for jazz…"

Anise scoffed. "And here I thought you weren't funny." She jabbed an elbow in my side. "And girls vying for your attention?" She arched an eyebrow to me.

"Too often." I grunted. "Happily married with child on the way. Sorry if that ruins your date."

Anise laughed. "Please… I like my men with pointy ears. No offense. Needs to have fur too." She held her hands over her head like cat ears.

"Cold and rotten too?" I glanced down at the Cathay corpse.

Anise's face blushed over. "I mean… if we're getting into fetishes… I have some feet if you want something to rub…"

"… Moving on..." I replied. I gestured back to the Khajiit woman. "So, what's important about the swollen liver? If the others' livers are not swollen like this one. What's causing the swelling?"

Anise jogged back to the massive Cathay. "That's just the thing! The blood-raging thing. The disease! Look!" Anise pulled out a scalpel, cutting into the liver. Black ooze leaked out of the liver. "I never thought I'd see anything like this. It's… it's not what I thought. It's black blood." She glanced up at me. "And it's manufactured."

"Manufactured?" I took a closer look.

"Yes. Too thick, not natural. Not of Khajiit origin. And here's more." Anise went to the skull of the Cathay-raht. She glanced back at me, arching her eyebrows. "Promise you won't freak out?"

I shrugged. "I've seen brains before."

Anise looked shocked. "Ah-huh… you've never seen shit like this before."

Anise lifted up the skull, and I was immediately surprised. Tendrils of black string held to the skull plate, almost making a spider web-like fiber. The brain itself was completely comprised of this black string material. The brain was consumed by this oozy threads. "It's not just blood."

"It's an infection." Anise reported. "Like a parasite. It gets into the bloodstream, infects the liver, makes it more viable to survive inside the host. And then… when it hits the brain… it takes over. Like Cordyceps. These Khajiit… they weren't able to control their actions. They never were."

"And our new mage just cured them." I reminded Anise.

Anise nodded, but gave me a stern look. "Something like this… it can be limited to one species. But… this has hit 2 different species, one cat-like… the other lizard. And those two are wildly differing. And if they could get infected, infect each other… and even infect their half-breed cousins…" Anise nodded her head to me.

I felt dragonbumps forming on my skin. "Humans and elves could be next."

"And with the massacre last night… blood spilt everywhere… if this is a blood-born infection, that's one thing. But if it becomes an airborne infection created via blood borne spores..."

"The trouble in this town has just begun." I finished Anise's thought. "We need to get everyone in here quarantined. Cleanse everyone." I turned to leave the morgue. "Nishera… her work has only just begun."

"Thank you, Bloodstain." Anise waved goodbye to me. "I'm glad you're as smart as you make yourself out to be."

I paused by the exit, turning to face Anise. "Don't think I've forgotten what you leaked to me. You… necromancy. And there's one more thing on my mind. You… you were managing the blood-ragers recovered from sewer raid. They got loose on your watch. And the town's suffering that followed…" I glanced at her. "I haven't figured out if you're to blame for all this… but something is off. And I doubt you're innocent in all this."

Anise gave me a thick smile. "I'm the least innocent girl you're ever going to meet, Bloodie." She winked at me. "If you need me… I'll be here… by myself… unsupervised with these mutilated cadavers." She traced her index finger across the Cathay's bicep. I could see the wide grin working its way up her face.

"Don't do anything to that body." I said to the girl as I headed for the exit.

"Oh, just leave a girl to her fantasies." Anise chuckled as she shooed me away.

"And no necromancy!" I yelled as I exited the room.

"I couldn't even if I wanted to!" Anise screamed back. "No magick!"

…

I made the short walk to the upstairs chamber where the victims needing healing were occupying every bed and every inch of the room. Bodies littered the floor, leaving little walking room for anyone traveling through the medical chamber. Because of the nonexistence of magick currently, our healers were limited to only a few who understood the ancient methods of using Alchemy and Soulic energy. And as such, we only had Sofie, Nishera, and Vivian currently. That was a short list currently. If you include myself and maybe a few elves, we still know little to nothing that was useful.

Nishera was resting in a chair next to someone around her age. It was one of the Argonians. I would have talked to her, but Nishera needed all the rest she could get after the day she had. As it was, the survivors were, as of this moment, cured of whatever disease that was plaguing them.

Nishera and Sofie were up until just an hour ago, doing everything they could to heal every under-dweller of any sign of blood-rage disease. And Vivian was trying her best to restore severed limbs from blood-rager victims. Nishera and Sofie were resting on opposite sides of the medical ward. Nishera was wrapped up in a blanket, her head resting on the lap of the Argonian boy she healed last. Sofie looked like she gave up mid-healing and rocked her head against the wall behind her. Knowing her, she probably gave everything she had tonight. Nishera did most of her work getting her family to calm down and cleanse the disease ravaging her family.

It was almost peaceful, watching the two of them sleep. It's too bad that this peaceful moment was created from a city-wide attack from blood-crazed beast-kin. And to be sure, as soon as I leave this peaceful moment, I'm sure to walk right into a horde of angry Nords. Seeing how the Nords were the target of this attack, I'm sure they will be angry.

I sighed as I walked out of the medical ward, giving Nishera a pat on the shoulder as I left the room. My stomach felt ill. What happened… this was a lit match on a bomb. When I left to find something in Winterhold, something that could help us recover our magical abilities, I left a pretty volatile situation here. And coming back, I think I just walked into an explosion in the making. My stomach soured at the thought. How was I going to fix this now? What can I possibly do to fix this? I kept thinking about the new city council… but when I think of the elves and the Nords and how they avoided the topic of reintegrating the beast-kin into the town… I think of this new situation… the new hatred. Elves and Nords not seeing eye-to-eye on their beliefs is one thing. One battlefield. But both of them will unite under this new threat to their lives. They have exactly what they wanted. And that made my stomach turn.

I Quickly searched my head for a solution… and I almost instantly came up with one. I didn't like it. Relocation. Winterhold. If I could convince Nishera to relocate her family to Winterhold… then… there might be a way out of this massacre. I just hope they're all willing to move. The biggest problem is the location itself. No farm, no food. Overrun with trolls. Destroyed buildings. And while I haven't spent too much time in the Crimson Blade guildhall, I know it can house a small village inside it. It would be cramped, but what else do they know at this point? There are about 74 beast-kin after we took a count. 21 Khajiits, 24 Argonians 13 Arjiits, and 16 Khajians. Those were the ones that survived. 15 dead total on the beast-kin side. 22 Nords and Bretons. 5 Altmer. 4 Dunmer. 6 Bosmer. Like I said earlier… last night was a bloodbath.

Exiting the medical ward, I looked across the hallway. Stormcloaks were guarding the hallway, their hands on their scabbards in case the worst should happen. As soon as they saw me coming, they snapped even more into attention than they were before.

"Castle is secure, sir." One of the Stormcloaks reported.

"Keep up the good work." I nodded in reply. I stopped by the Stormcloak, turning to look at him. "If the worst should happen, whether it's beast-kin, Nord, Aldmeri… I don't expect you to stand here and die. Retreat, regroup, and come up with a new plan. Understood?"

The Stormcloaks nodded. "Of course, sir." The Stormcloak I was looking at replied, a grim look on his face. I knew he didn't like running from a fight.

"I heard about New Windhelm. What happened?" I never got the full story from before Storm dropped in on. I only ever got the basics.

The guard glanced over to his friend, as if asking a silent question. The guard behind me nodded his head, giving the go-ahead.

The guard rubbed the back of his head. "It happened overnight. Storm was planning on securing the eastern front, taking the old Windhelm, the hot springs, free the slaves digging there, and then taking Riften and the forest region. Make our way to Mount Hrothgar. Maybe have a small team secure the Graybeard's keep."

"Graybeards sided with the Thalmor." I replied. "One of them tried to kill me."

The Stormcloak nodded. "Good intelligence to have. Maybe a full legion then."

"Maybe just let the Shoutmen handle the Graybeards." I replied. "Me, Storm, Vivian, and Madanach." Maybe take the new Arch Mage with me as well.

The Stormcloak shrugged at my suggestion. "If we're going to be overkill about it, why not just use catapults and ballista to kill them from range?"

"So many reasons." I replied. Time to use my detective training to teach this kid some new skills. "First off, the Shouts the Graybeards use include the ability to control weather. Summon lightning storms. Your leader uses these Shouts a lot to his advantage. And while having us there with you would help negate the Graybeard's Shouts, there are others that… turn people. Having you there is a welcome, but the moment the Graybeards use a Shout that turns your minds inside out, making you our frenzied enemies… then suddenly the Shoutmen are fighting more than one enemy. Not just the Graybeards but the Stormcloaks too. If might only last a single moment, but in that moment, the Graybeards could destroy every chance we have at a quick and decisive victory. And there's more involved too. The Graybeards… didn't turn against us voluntarily, I believe. Vampiric enslavement compulsion, I believe is the real culprit here. If we can capture the Graybeards, I believe we can turn them back. Having Stormcloaks there would only slow us down, for the reasons I mentioned before."

I looked back at the other Stormcloak. "And so… let's get back to our conversation. What happened in New Windhelm?"

Both Stormcloaks looked at each other. I could tell I was in for a long story.

…

[Georgie Stormblood]

It all started a cold and snowy night. But then again… that's every night in the snowy depths of the Velothi Mountains. New Windhelm, if you've never been there, is a sight to see. It's a lot like Solitude in ways. Layers built on layers. Most of it inside the mountain, where we keep our livestock, our farmland. Mostly snowberries, carrots, ash yams, potatoes, and cabbage. Things that can grow in the worst of conditions. How I wonder how we've survived so many years on such limited supply, but have constructed a kind of balance between people and food supply. That's the mountain interior section. The exterior, you see houses carved into the mountain, walkways and paths, balconies, all made from the mountain itself. One would think such beauty was made from the Dwarves, with how precise our mountainside paradise has been constructed. But knowing that one day your wooden bridge could give makes you wonder if you're better off using the terrain to your advantage, save the wood for bedframes.

I was out on patrol, walking the snowy paths on the outskirts of the lowest section. The main stair road leading to the pathway leading to the old Windhelm was old and weathered. For nearly a century, our forces haven't relocated from the mountainside fortress turned town. Indeed, most of the Stormcloaks residing in the fortress were born there. Being a Stormcloak is more about being born into a Creed, being adopted into a new way of life. We are soldiers at birth, molded into the best that this world has ever seen. Adopting the thick abrasive iron, learning how to mold it into our iron plates, you'd think we were the Orcs of old.

I was admiring my crafted iron plate, wondering how I could have been so lucky that my family had been the best iron smiths in all of New Windhelm. My armor was top of the line, and little did I know… I was going to need it by night's end.

The thing you need to know about mountains is that the wind picks up, throwing snow and wind up all night long. You learn ways to keep the snow from piling up, but even then, when you walk the pathways late at night, you might as well be carrying a shovel with you, and most of us have turned shovels into a weapon. Tactical Shovels, we call them. Sharp as swords on one end, spike end that can flip up with a single rotation. And a slot for a dagger to be pulled out if need be.

I was out shoveling the pathway in the lowest section, keeping my eyes on the outposts leading down the mountain. With each scrape of my shovel on the pathway, the thick wind and snow blasting me in the face would undo most of my work, but it was work that I needed to maintain. If I did not, then come morning, no one would be able to walk the town. As I kept up my job, making the pathway through the town cleared off, I kept my eyes on the lower mountainside. You almost couldn't see it in the dark. Between the blinding snow and the harsh winds, seeing down the mountain was always impossible past sunset. Luckily for us, that worked both ways. Enemies would not march up the thick snow. And with the outposts built, if any enemy was sighted, the torches would be lit. And what I was seeing, I almost thought I could see a small glow down a ways.

My heart raced at the thought. I believed it was one of the outposts. I could barely tell with all the snow, but even if it was a false alarm, no one would blame me for calling the town to torch alert. And so, I did what any Stormcloak would do, I ran for the emergency bell. Behind me, I heard an exploding voice, one that echoed through the sky like Storm's. And I wondered if maybe a new Shoutman was coming to visit, but I couldn't be too sure, and an alarm still needed to be raised.

I reached the bell, located just enough inside the mountain that the winds wouldn't sound it off for us. And I pulled the hell out of that rope, making that bell alarm go off like I was sure we were about to be bombed by Aldmeri ballista.

We Stormcloaks, we have drills some nights, once a month, randomly assigned. And seeing how the month's alarm had already gone off a week prior, everyone knew this was no drill. And with the speed of an army preparing for war, there was only minutes before fully dressed warriors strode out of their family homes. Storm walked over to me, seeing me next to the emergency bell.

"What's the emergency?" Storm, our leader, dressed in his Storm Armor, looked like a frightful sight.

"Outpost torch possibly." I replied. "Thought I saw a glow down the mountainside. And when I ran for the bell, I heard the echoes of a Shout."

"A Shout?" Storm arched an eyebrow. "Strange. These nights have been long without my Voice keeping my company, and suddenly, you hear a Shout?" He almost smiled. "Perhaps the hour of Silence has ended?"

Storm rocked his head back as he readied a Shout. And launched his head forward, screaming, "Yol." If a Shout could make a squeaker, it would have right then. A small plume of a flame, almost as big as Storm flickered to life before snuffing itself out.

Storm sighed as he wiped the flaming drool off his lips. "Still Silenced. I wish most of us didn't have to rely on magicka to supply the needed Shouts. If only I could eat a dragon's soul to unlock my blood fully." Storm then looked up at me. "Wait… do you notice that?"

"Notice what?" Angelica, his most senior advisor, stepped forward.

I turned to look around, but I didn't see anything. It was silent.

And then that's when it hit me. It was silent. No whining winds. No falling snow. The sky was clear. The moon, tinted pink by the oil-laced sky, shone in full splendor. Remember when I mentioned it was nearly pitch-black? Our skies were filled with upcoming snow clouds. And now… the sky was cleared. The Shout I thought I heard. It must have been Clear Skies.

Storm glared at me. "You were right. Everyone! Battle stations! We don't know what's going to hit us, but if it's one of my people… there's a chance that there's someone behind them. And that someone, could be our enemy."

We rushed with the fury of the winter snow to our preassigned positions, making our way to our squads. And we waited. We waited and we watched. From my observation point, I could see two figures marching up the mountain pathway. Just two.

"State your name and business!" Storm yelled down the mountainside. "My soldiers will fire upon you!"

And then, a booming voice like you couldn't imagine threw us off our feet. "I AM HIGH KING OF SKYRIM. ASGER STONEARM."

I was thrown off my feet as was the rest of my squad. By the time I managed to pull myself up off the snowy stone, the two men were standing on the lowest level. They were surrounded by Stormcloaks on all sides. And I was stuck on the second level with my squad.

"Come again?" I could hear Storm's voice over the growing silence.

The thin man with the long shaggy brown hair, dressed in some shiny glass armor pointed to himself. "I am High King of Skyrim. Asger Stonearm."

Storm laughed, turning his head away from the man. "That name is long forgotten. The man it was attached to has been long departed from this world. 100 years, more or less. And, this man, he was the first Dragonborn to be discovered since the fall of the Septim line. He united all of Skyrim, defeated Alduin, and helped created the Shoutmen. Of which, I belong to. I am Brian Stormcloak, ruler of the Stormcloaks." Storm reached over, grabbing the thin man by his shirt, pulling him close. "And you dare to use his name, throw insult to injury by claiming to be the creator of the Shoutmen, uniting force of Skyrim, and High King of Skyrim?"

The man smirked. "Shall I prove it?"

"Prove it?" Storm asked. "And how would you do such a feat?"

"Mul Qah Diiv!" There was a loud explosion surrounding the man. "Ven Gaar Nos! Tiid Klo Ul! Su Grah Dun!"

My eyes blinded for a second by the bright light that launched from the man's mouth. It was like a rainbow aura that turned around, slamming into him. I watched as the man almost morphed into a spiritual dragon. His arms turned rainbow and scaly. His teeth grew into fangs. Rainbow wings and tail wrapped into their form. A whirlwind surrounding him. Lightning crackling around him. It was a sight to behold.

The man spread his arms out like he was welcoming a hug. "Do you dare deny me my right to my name?"

Stormcloaks all started to bow, taking a knee as the High King now walked among us. Storm bent knee as well, lowering his head. "I dare not deny you your name. You must be the High King of old. But… how? Where have you been?"

The High King snickered at the thought. "Mostly locked up in a cave. Hidden away, saved by a pretty young thing. Last thing I remember before waking in her lap was sitting in Sovngarde, talking to my wife. And then… I felt a pull on me. And suddenly, I was… in this Bosmer's lap."

Bosmer?

Yes, a Bosmer.

"A Bosmer with muddy brown hair with green tips." The High King announced. "She… she brought me back. She said we would be needed soon. A revolution was needed. She needed the best, and I am one among many. We are here, and now… we will begin fixing this world."

Storm looked concerned. "So, why are you here then?"

The High King looked over his shoulder to the man standing next to him. "To reclaim his birthright."

"What birthright?" Storm began to ask, but he didn't need to. All of us knew who he was. The man, tall and frightful, looked like the spitting image of Storm. They looked so much alike, you wouldn't need to hear the words to follow.

The man stomped on his heavy feet, walking up to Storm. "I am Ulfric Stormcloak, leader of the Stormcloaks. And now I am back to finish what I started. I'm here to free Skyrim of all her enemies. And for that… I need my army back."

Storm stood from his knee. "I will stand with you. We were about to take on the Dominion. And with you by our side… I know we can defeat the Dominion."

"The Dominion?" Ulfric glanced to the High King before glancing back to Storm. "You think the Dominion is the threat I speak of?" Ulfric laughed. "Perhaps… but… there are more threats than that. All Elves, Khajiit, Argonians. All of them do not belong in my Skyrim. And all of them deserve nothing less than purification."

I glanced to the Dunmer Stormcloak standing next to me. A woman by the name Averani Hlaalu. She looked absolutely devastated. Many of the Stormcloaks were Dunmer and Argonian. When our city fell to the Dominion, many elves and Argonians stood with the town. And when we retreated, they joined our army. Ever since, we've stood as equals in New Windhelm.

Ulfric was glancing around, clearly taking in the Dunmer and Argonians mixed into our ranks. "What is this, the Ebonheart Pact? I thought these were supposed to be Stormcloaks."

Storm nodded. "They are, sire. The problem is… we don't view Dunmer and Argonians as lesser beings. They stood with us when the Dominion attacked our town. So, using my army to attack… what I'm assuming are harmless civilians… it's wrong. And I won't allow it."

"Allow it?" Ulfric screamed. "This is my army. You are my soldier to use. This is my birthright, my right to rule."

"And this is my royal decree." The High King walked up to Storm. "The Shoutmen are disbanded. The Shoutmen had one task, a task you failed to accomplish. Your one job was to keep Skyrim safe, and here I am, one hundred years later, and you not only blow up half a continent, hundreds of ruins, but also murdered countless thousands of innocent slaves and workers. Not only that, but you destroyed an MSC, threw off the planetary balance, and Silenced magicka. We're a slight push away from devolving into ruined threshold, and if we don't act now… this plane will quickly vanish into a real Oblivion. And so… for me to begin repairing this realm… the Shoutmen… all of them… must die."

The High King slashed with his hand, taking a chunk out of Storm's armor.

"Stormcloaks, on me!" Ulfric screamed. "Kill the Shoutman! Kill the elves and the lizards!"

And just like that… it all came to silence. We all glanced at each other. We wondered what we were supposed to do. But it was clear. These two… whoever they were, whatever they were in the past, they did not represent our present. And as such… they were our enemies.

"Gol Hah Dov!" The High King Shouted, and… I felt this overwhelming need in my brain to do as he asked. I felt this pull to join the rightful ruler of Skyrim and true leader of the Stormcloaks. But… as I kept my eyes locked on Averani… I knew in the back of my mind… that what we were being asked to do was wrong. I tried to break the spell, but I wasn't fast enough. Averani turned to face a few of her own fellow squad mates as they rushed her, jabbing their spears through the cracks in her armor plates. She coughed blood as she fell to her knees, her head lopped off by who used to be my best friend. And it wasn't just us. Stormcloaks devolved into a civil war. Those of us trying to kill Storm and our non-Nord compatriots. More than half of us fell victim to the High King's Shout. Even Non-Nords who heard the order of purification and turned to suicide or sacrifice to spare the nation of having mixed breeds occupying the same space of us Nords.

Meanwhile, you had the High King Shouting at Storm. Full Shouts that could destroy our whole mountain. And that's what happened. The High King, whether intentional or not… a Shout he made caused an avalanche. And when the snow fell upon us… those of us who were lucky to take shelter… survived. The fight… for that night was over.

I managed to make my way to the interior of the mountain where an injured Storm and Angelica, as well as a quarter of our army, had somehow made a small camp. We thought that the nightmare was over but… it had only just begun. Soon after our incident.. wait… where are you going?"

…

[Bloodstain]

I couldn't believe it. My mind was racing over what I had learned. A Bosmer with muddied brown hair with green tips. That couldn't be right. That had to be wrong.

I waved goodbye to the guard. "Great story. I loved it. I'm hiring you to be our new chronicler. Report to Vivian and tell her I told her so. Your intelligence has brought up more questions though."

I quickly rushed through the halls. I had questions that needed answered. And they needed answered as quickly as possible. Everything might fall apart if I didn't handle this here and now.

I rushed through crowds and Nords making a protest in the throne room. Vivian sat on her throne, her hand resting on her chin. I knew better than anyone that she wanted to go to bed. The two of us already had a long day in Winterhold, only to be dragged back here to Solitude to silence a riot. And these Nords and Altmer were here to protest the violent Beast-kin that ravaged their homes no doubt.

One such Nord came to me, trying to stop me. "Bloodstain, what are you going to do about all the dead Nords those animals mauled?"

I pushed the Nord away, saying, "As of right now, the situation is handled. The beast-kin were sick and their disease has been healed. What they did…" I turned back to the Nord. "was out of their control. Unlike the Nords that marched into the High District to kill Altmer living in their houses. And unlike the Altmer that have been raping and killing Nords." I turned to look at both groups. "These people were ill, having spent 100 years living, eating, and breeding in your literal shit. And as of right now, I'm investigating what started the rampage. From what Nishera told me… her father was murdered in his sleep by a Nord. And this might have been what sparked a rampage in the lower section. I don't know, and I'm not holding anyone responsible… yet. Whatever I learn will dictate my reaction. Until then, there is a slightly more important conversation I need with a book ghost."

I left the Nord man there as I rushed for the library. Vivian caught my eye for a second, giving me a supportive smile as she turned her attention back to the protesting groups.

I finally made my way to the library, reaching for Babette's journal. Well, time for the two of us to have a heart to heart.

Cearbhail:

That's just a teaser for what's to come.