Introduction
The Oblivion gates were closed, but at a high price.
The hero with Martin had been knocked out of action with a terrible disease called Corprus. He had to fight for his life for the duration of his sickness. Finally, a strong enough potion was made to supress the symptoms for a day. It was administered to him outside of the Imperial City. The hero, 48 guards, and Martin were able to batter their way into the Arcane University. An additional 16 hours were spent using powerful magicks on the hero, preparing him to be able to fight through the waves of daedra that had ravaged the city.
It made him incredibly strong, but only for another two hours. After that time was up he would die. It was a risky gamble, and nobody knew if he would stick to the plan. Another problem was even if he did stick to the plan, would it be enough? With a mighty effort, Martin and the Hero (along with the guards) were able to hack their way into the temple. However, Mehrunes Dagon had risen from the city while the hero was being blessed. His time was almost up, the Daedra prince's tangibility in the world almost becoming permanent. Martin gave his life to destroy Mehrunes Dagon, and the hero died not ten minutes afterwards.
Well now the Daedra still march through the countryside. Their leader, Menta Na, had agreed with the other nations of Tamriel that he would occupy only Cyrodiil if they wouldn't try to drive them out. This Article of Neutrality, as it was called, has been in effect for ten years. It has not been disobeyed by anyone.
Chapter One: Into the fryer on a frying pan
Dawn at Bravil brought a strange sight. Some Dremora mages were standing around a little cart filled up with...something. They put a scamp inside of the cart, pulled out some soul gems, and cracked them together like a toast over the scamp. Now the scamp began to glow, and the Dremora heaved the cart across the bridge.
A starving beggar was standing about 15 feet directly in front of the gate when it exploded. A giant section of the door slammed into him, killing him instantly. The two towers next to the gate crumbled and fell forward down the now bridge-less ravine and into the moat. Now Dremora began to pour out of the forest.
The siege of Bravil had begun.
The church bells clamored, screaming for help. A score of soldiers left the elven ruin turned-base nearby to see what was going on. An Imperial, Frederick Gein, was the captain of this squad.
Halfway to the city they were ambushed by ten Dremora, each wearing a Daedric cuirass, but otherwise relatively unarmored. The first soldier to go was an archer in the back, who was slashed across the belly with a longsword.
"AMBUSH!" the adjacent archer cried, dropping his bow and pulling out his dagger. A swordsman in front turned and slashed across the Dremora's arm, drawing his attention. The archer ran to catch it unaware when an ax was buried in his head. The first Dremora fell shortly afterwards, two swordsman ganging up on the wounded one, slicing off one arm and knocking him down. The swordsman dropped his shield and picked up the longsword. He was now dual-wielding.
In front, the soldiers were struggling with a few Dremora as the ones behind them were slowly being killed, one by one. The apparent leader of the attack was a tall xivilai. His face was almost purple in its strange blue and his nose was gnarled and bulbous. He carried a claymore. Next to Frederick Gein, a soldier fell after having a sword driven through his throat. The captain capitalized and cut off the Dremora's head as it began to yank its sword out. Milliseconds after decapitating the demon he was kicked in the side by the leader and sent sprawling.
"DIE." It rumbled.
"Over my dead body!" The captain screamed in panic, rolling out of the way of a downward swing by the terrible monster.
"Captain!" One of the lower-ranked soldiers sounded almost like he was pleading with the xivilai. As the devil turned to look at him the soldier swung his blade with all his force into the side of its body. His sword broke on the claymore, which had gotten in the way just in time. However, half the sword spun and caught in the side of the xivilai. After staring incredulously (did you just hit me?) and pulling out the blade, the monster smacked the soldier in the face with the flat of his claymore, knocking his helmet off and driving him into unconsciousness.
The dual-wielding swordsman tripped a Dremora and sliced its head clear in half before turning to see what was going on. An exceptionally big daedra was about to kill the captain, it seemed. But before he knew it, he was scraped across the side by a daedric warhammer, his cuirass shattering on the side and hanging off of him. He spun quickly, the first blade cutting the left arm of the monster, and the second being buried into it's right shoulder. A mighty kick would be what separated them, blood momentarily taking its opportunity to fly out and splash many a disgusted doughboy soldier. The men were, for the most part, inexperienced.
The xivilai headbutted the captain backwards into a tree, and thrust the claymore straight through him. Blood splashed in a geyser of ruby onto the demon. Frederick's hands went momentarily towards the sword before his arms and head sagged down. The captain was dead, and the xivilai knew it. It howled in evil victory.
Until an arrow worked its way roughly through it's disgusting head. The monster mewled like a dying dog, stumbling sideways several feet before falling down.
"That was the last one, I think." The soldier said just loud enough for himself to hear over the cries of his wounded friends.
Oreyn, the dual-swordsman, asked, "How many?"
"How many what?" The archer asked back.
"How many are hurt?" Oreyn yelled irritably.
"We've got about five dead, and...nine wounded." A nearby soldier with a relative grasp on restoration magic said.
"You'd might as well just make it six dead." The soldier he was helping said softly. He'd been cut to the bone on his thigh and had a dagger in his side.
"Is the captain dead?" Oreyn asked.
"Even the Nine couldn't bring him back, sir."
"Damn it! Somebody get that sword out of him... Something big is happening. Bravil's church bell is still ringing..." Oreyn listened to the bells, apparently trying to determine if he was imagining them. He decided he wasn't.
"Someone go check to see if Bravil is ok. But don't be seen."
Nobody moved.
"Alright, I'll go look. You bunch of cowards."
Oreyn came back about ten minutes later, and a couple of the injured were already able to stand on their own again. Nevertheless, Oreyn looked very grim.
"Bravil is under siege...it looks like the Daedra planned this one pretty big, there's a lot of them there." The Imperial stopped to look around, his steel cuirass glinting where there wasn't profuse amounts of blood smacked on. His eyes stopped on down the path, widening immensely.
"Troll. Troll!" He yelled. An archer turned in time to be leapt upon and clobbered. The swordsman nearest drove his blade through it's head.
"You ok?"
"God damn, that hurt."
"He's fine."
Later on, Oreyn was arguing with the leader of their base in the ruin, begging to get the whole group out of there so they could go to Skingrad and tell Caleb Cosades about the siege.
"With as many Daedra as you say we can't risk taking all of us out there."
"We can't just send one." Oreyn said.
"And why not?"
"Because if we just send one he'll get killed before he's even halfway there. Even if he does get past the Daedra around Bravil, there's still almost three-fourths of the trip left to do afterwards. Hell, even before the coming of Oblivion there was a chance that a soldier wouldn't make that trip because of trolls and ogres, not to mention bandits.
"We need to get aid. The Daedra are getting bold. And it looks like they've gotten their siege abilities down pretty well."
"Do you remember how many people we lost trying just to get here?" The leader asked.
"Too many. But this is so important. You know as well as I do that there aren't many cities left. There's Bravil, Anvil, Skingrad, and Bruma. That's all. We never thought they'd be able to take the Imperial City, but three years ago they did. Ever since then we've been trying to hang onto what we have left. We can't just let another one go." Oreyn pleaded with his eyes now.
"Ok...We'll go a few hours after dark."