I shot out of the well like an arrow from a bow, flying so high into the sky that I could see the White-Gold Tower.

Then, I reached the climax of my ascent, and felt my stomach drop out from under me as I began to freefall, headed for the river I had crossed to reach the ruins. I hit the water with a magnificent belly-flop that probably made Julianos himself cringe, and drove the breath out of my lungs before I sank beneath the waves, where no one could hear my pained wails.

By the time I managed to drag myself ashore, the sun had begun to set. I looked around at the encroaching darkness, only to find that a bag had appeared upon the dock.

Now, let it be known that I wasn't really the type to pilfer other people's possessions (unless of course they were good and dead, in which case the Divines saw no problem) but in this instance, the bag was actually meant for me.

Attached to the bag was a note, which read thusly:

Sigan,

As your patron deity, I've taken it upon myself to help prepare you for your task. Within this enchanted satchel, you will find several spell books for beginners, a manual of spellcraft, and a journal, so that you may keep track of your deeds. I've also provided a map and compass to help guide you on your path. Do NOT fail me!

-Julianos

I stowed the note away in a side pocket and sorted through the books within the bag until I found the map, which I unfurled. It was very detailed, and encompassed the entirety of Cyrodiil. Just to the south of a small town labelled 'Chorrol' was a place called 'Weynon Priory,' which was marked with a small red 'X.'

Scowling at my map, I cracked open the journal to find that three entries had been made already.

The first entry in my new journal was 'Deliver the Amulet of Kings to Jauffre at Weynon Priory.' That one would be simple enough. I could reach the Priory just be heading due west on the road that ran round the Imperial City.

The next one read, 'Find out who had you put in Prison.' That was a little trickier. Something told me that whoever had it done would not want to be found out.

And after that 'Save the World and find Ruma.'

I stared hard at her name for a solid minute before remembering that it was getting dark out. Putting everything back into the satchel, and I slung it over my shoulder and peered around. Once again I noticed a light within the ruins (which I now knew were called Vilverin) but these were not magical lights from the well, which was now dark and empty- this was the flickering light of a warm fire! Someone was over there! I set my mind upon resting by the campfire with some friendly travelers, only for my excitement to backlash.

"The boat is still on the other side of the river," I said, unable to believe my poor fortune. "I guess I have to get wet, again."

After swimming across the river (and soaking my robes yet again) I made my way, dripping wet and squishing in my boots towards the light of the fire, eager for a friendly face, some good company, a warm meal, and the possibility of joining a group of travelers on my way to Weynon Priory. In hindsight, I suppose that was awfully optimistic of me.

I had only just turned a corner to glimpse a small campsite I hadn't even noticed earlier when I was beset upon by four bandits, each one armed to the teeth and ready to attack. I was surrounded before I could so much as put a hand to the hilt of my sword.

The first bandit was a Redguard woman in thick fur armor and boots. In her right hand, she carried a steel war axe, and upon her left she wore a simple wooden shield bound together with iron. One of her eyes was closed, with a scar running over the eyelid. If I had to place bets, she was the leader of the group.

Another bandit, this one a large Nord man, was dressed in plain clothes, but he wore a tight fitting leather cuirass over his beer belly. Fair hair fell to his shoulders, as was standard with Nords, and he seemed to be completely besotted, which was also fairly typical. His eyes were watery and small, and his breath reeked of alcohol. In his hands he carried a massive iron claymore than was as long as I was tall.

A third bandit appeared to be no older than I, maybe even a few years younger. He was a scruffy looking Imperial with sharp eyes and dark hair. Gleaming in his hand was a fine silver dagger.

The final bandit kept her distance, and her silence. She was a Bosmer, and in her hands she held what appeared to be a simple hunting bow. Across her back was a quiver full of arrows, and a chain-mail shirt glittered upon her torso. She may not have seemed as threatening as the others, but I was not fooled. The Bosmer were considered some of the most precise archers ever. Even the weakest and most unskilled among them could pin a fly to a tree at a hundred yards off without killing it.

"Halt," the Redguard said brusquely, "Who are you? What brings you to these ruins?"

Raising a finger, I pointed at their campsite, "I saw the fire, and was hoping for a rest."

The Nord eyed me blearily and grunted, "This guy looks like he might be a mage."

"He has a nice bag, as well," the Imperial noted, having inched around me while I was distracted. "By the Nine… look what he had in his pocket!"

My eyes widened as I felt for the Amulet that was supposed to be in my pocket, only it was gone. I rounded on the Imperial, who was holding the Amulet of Kings up for all his friends to see, and I felt like my heart was hanging on the gold chain instead of the ruby.

"Give that back!" I told him.

"Look at the size of that gem," the Redguard uttered to herself.

The Nord gave a low whistle, "Now that's one hell of a rock! Nice pull, kid."

Even the Bosmer lowered her bow and approached, so that she might have a better look. I was about to draw my blade and make a move when I felt something on my back. The Redguard woman had recovered from her initial surprise, and was standing at my flank, the blade of her war axe resting gently against my spine.

"Not so fast, Breton," she said gleefully, marching me into their campsite as the others clustered around the Amulet.

In a matter of moments I'd been relieved of the Amulet, my bag, and my sword. The Redguard tied my hands behind my back, and pulled the rope taut enough to make me hiss in discomfort. Her breath was hot in my ear as she muttered, "Stay here and be good, or we'll split you open and feed you to the slaughterfish."

"Listen, I know you bandits have an affinity for shiny things, but that Amulet is no mere trinket," my words tumbled over my tongue in haste, "that's the Amulet of Kings!"

But it was no good. She had already left, and was huddled with her bandit buddies around the Imperial.

"Well now, this is a fine predicament I've gotten myself into," I sighed disgustedly.

I was seated on a log by the campfire, and not a long way off was a tent that was filled with warm blankets and cozy furs. The more I looked between the tent and the bandits, the more I knew that I would rather die sleeping in that tent than live sitting at this campfire.

I stood, but the bandits were too enamored with the Amulet to care. Striding to the tent, I let myself fall into its comforting embrace, and was asleep almost instantaneously.

A good thing, too, because even as I snored away, raised voices and harsh tones grew loud in the night.

As the night wore on, and the campfire burned low, the shouting match of the four bandits echoed throughout the ruins, and carried on into the darkness.

"I found the bloody thing!" The young Imperial insisted. "I should get a bigger cut!"

"Don't get greedy, newbie," the Redguard said, "as the leader of the gang, I get a greater share!"

"Horse shit!" growled the Nord, "We agreed to divide the profits evenly!"

And then, at long last, the archer broke her silence, "I think I recognize this Amulet, and if it belongs to whom I think it does, there's no way we can sell it."

"Aw, don't be such a stick in the mud," the Imperial laughed, "I know a someone who can pry the ruby out and liquidate it easily."

The sound of approaching footsteps from behind the bandits caught their attention, and together they turned around, their weapons bristling.

Walking towards them at a leisurely pace was a warrior in a suit of ebony armor. Their face was obscured by the shadows within the helmet, but long hair cascaded from beneath it, and tumbled down slender shoulders. The cuirass of the armor was fitted with extra room in the breast to accommodate a woman's form.

Clutched in this mysterious female warrior's hand was a sword blacker than the surrounding night. Not even the dying light of the fire seemed able to cast a reflection upon the blade.

"Just who in the hell are you supposed to be?" the Reguard asked. "Hey, I'm talking to you, shit-for-brains!"

No response was forthcoming. The Nord froze in place, his knees knocking as his watery eyes were glued to the black sword.

"Oh sweet, merciful Stendarr," he murmured, "it's you."

The Redguard woman leaned in towards the Nord, who was visibly shaking in his boots. "You know this bitch?"

In answer, the Nord took off running. His heavy iron claymore clanged to the dirt, and he tripped, stumbled, and scrambled back to his feet before continuing his drunken retreat. His companions watched him flee, unnoticing of the way the shadows seemed to pull towards the ebony-clad warrior. She was almost upon them now.

"Stop right there!" the Redguard shouted, "come no closer!"

But the warrior did not stop, and with each step she took, the fire behind the bandits grew dimmer, less substantial.

The Bosmer archer let fly with her bow, only to falter as the silent warrior slashed the missile out of the air.

"Umbra hungers," the mysterious warrior whispered, "let us feast."

I awoke to the deafening screech of carrion birds outside my tent.

The sky was still dark, and the campfire had completely burned out. I was content to lay there, warm and cozy, until I remembered last night and sat up with a start.

I rolled out of the tent and struggled to my feet, as my hands were still tied behind my back. Channeling magicka into my hands, I burned through my bonds and formulated a simple plan: take back the Amulet, and slink away into the pre-dawn darkness.

Putting my sneaking skills to the test, I crept through the campsite slowly. I was doing quite well until my foot caught something hard and I went down like a ton of bricks.

Deciding to risk a little light so that I could see what it was I had tripped over, I pointed a finger and conjured a minuscule candle-esque flame upon the tip of it. Upon seeing exactly what it was I had tripped over, I had to clap a hand to my mouth to stop myself from being ill.

Lying in the grass next to me was the young Imperial from the night before, or part of him, anyway. He had been rent in two, with his legs and waist not too far off. I had fallen over his top half.

Realizing I was in grave danger, and with the feeling that I was being watched, I pushed myself upright and raised my hand over my head, willing even more energy into it. A bright light sprang to life in my palm, and I gasped as I took in the horrendous scene.

Spread over a wide area was what looked less like a battle and more like a slaughter, with bits and pieces of the bandits who'd captured me strewn about the ruins.

The Bosmer archer was a pile of eviscerated limbs with an empty quiver. The Redguard woman was laying upon her side with her back to me. Her head was several feet away, and staring at me with one dull, lifeless eye.

The only bandit missing was the Nord, but something told me he didn't get very far, wherever he'd gone.

After shooing away the ravens that had gathered for an early breakfast, I scoured the carnage, picking through the blood soaked grass in search of the Amulet of Kings.

But it was nowhere to be found.

Retrieving my sword and pack from the campsite, I searched the surrounding area for clues. The first one I located was the Nord's body, roughly an archer's shot away from the ruins. It was just as gruesomely disfigured as those of his comrades, but there was no Amulet upon his person. The second clue I'd found were bloody boot-prints that crossed the white paving stones of the ruins, and a single bloody handprint upon the door, which, to my memory, had been pristine and white yesterday.

"Whoever killed those bandits is in the ruins," my heartbeat was like a hammer in my ears. I wanted to run away, but I could not. I had to get that Amulet back.

Tightening my sword belt, I drew my hood over my head, and ventured into the ruins.

As I stole into the depths of the place, taking great care as to where I placed my footing, I quickly came to realize that Vilverin was cursed. Passing beneath the pale glow of the Ayleid crystals, I saw zombies that had been bifurcated, and sizzling piles of ectoplasm from wraiths that had been destroyed.

Deeper and deeper into the bowels of the abandoned city I went, keeping my hand upon the hilt of my sword, as I braced for attack around every corner.

But at long last I came to one of the final chambers, wherein there appeared to be a functional living space carved out of the dark and uninhabitable ruins. Merry firelight painted the walls orange and yellow, and illuminated a bookshelf, a table, chairs, a bed, and of course, a headless corpse.

The corpse was not all that shocking, truth be told. What truly scared me was the ebony clad warrior standing in the center of the room.

"I know you're there," she called out to me, "come out from the shadows."

The warrior's voice was soft, feminine. She turned to face me, and I stood up straight, picking a few stray cobwebs from the sleeve of my robes.

"Your soul is different from most," she said, her head tilted curiously as she stared right through me, "the Divines have a greater hand in your fate."

I pursed my lips, disappointed with our first impression. If I'd wanted someone to tell me something I already knew, I'd resurrect my father and have him tell me I was wasting my life cleaning ships. "Uh… well, yeah, you could say that."

"Doubtlessly you have come for this," the warrior held up the Amulet of Kings.

Now that caught me off guard. Surprise must have been apparent on my face, as the warrior nodded satisfactorily before tossing the Amulet onto the bed behind her.

"If you wish to reclaim the Amulet, you must face me in single combat. If you lose, we will devour your soul."

I scratched at my chin, completely nonplussed. "A battle to the death? Single combat? Is there not a more amicable solution?"

"No."

I blinked, amazed at how quickly her answer had come. I wasn't sure how to proceed, but I knew one thing for sure: tangling with this lady would get me as dead as those bandits outside.

"Surely there is some way for the both of us to walk out of here unscathed, miss…uh… I'm sorry, I never got your name."

"You seek to get to know me," she said flatly, "it's a common stall tactic. The last person to try it is lying over there."

She pointed over to the corner of the room, where the headless corpse of a Redguard in black robes lay in a pool of his own blood. Beads of nervous perspiration traced uncomfortable lines down my temple as I realized this may not be someone I could reason with.

"At least give me your name," I insisted.

She rolled her eyes at me, "You may call me Umbra."

"Umbra, you say? That's a strange- I mean, a beautiful name."

A shadow fell over Umbra's face, and I could practically hear her teeth grinding.

"I think," she drew her sword from its sheathe, "I'll just kill you now."

"L-Let's not be too hasty!" I stammered, raising my hands, "after all, killing me may bring about the end of the world as we know it!"

Umbra halted in her advance, glaring at me with suspicion.

"Your words carry no hint of deceit," she muttered. "Somehow, your fate, and the fate of this world are connected. But how?"

"Well, it's less to do with me, and more to do with that Amulet," I said with a shrug, "I'm just the poor sod stuck carrying it around."

There was confusion, and possibly even a hint of fear upon the ebony clad warrior's face, but it was hard to be sure under that helmet. I did my best to meet her cold, dark gaze. I figured that even if she decided to attack, her eyes would give me some warning.

Apparently, I was mistaken (which, given all that had happened since I broke out of prison, shouldn't have been a much of a shock.) Without so much as a twitch of her long eyelashes, she swung her sword at me. It passed so close to my face that I could hear the hum of malign energy keening across the blade. I fell backward, sitting down hard on my tailbone. Scrambling to my feet, I made a break for the doorway. Sadly, I only made it a few paces before I was halted in my tracks. I choked as Umbra yanked me backward by the hood of my robes.

She threw me bodily through the air with one hand, and a strength that even the mightiest of men could not naturally match. I landed upon the bed with a gasp.

"Take the Amulet," Umbra said, "and get out of my sight."

"I-I thought you were going to kill me! Or devour my soul or something!"

She shrugged, "I fought the urge. And besides, your soul is not yet ripe. It would not even begin to satiate Umbra's ravenous appetite."

My interest in this warrior mounted as I wondered why a (presumably) sane woman would refer to herself in the third person. Then I realized she was not talking about herself at all.

When she spoke of 'Umbra' she held her sword aloft, her fingers caressing the weapon as delicately as someone might cradle a newborn child. Her eyes ran the length of the blade, tracing along its sharp edges with something akin to obsession burning within them. I didn't know what sort of relationship could exist between a woman and her sword, but nothing about the one in front of me appeared to be very healthy.

Pocketing the Amulet, I slid off the bed and wondered aloud, "Why would you spare me, yet kill those bandits outside? Surely my soul is equivocal theirs?"

Umbra turned her gaze to me, and I was astounded to see a bitter smile pull at the corners of her lips. "Suffice it to say that I understand the pain of having your fate wrested from you all too well. It is not something I would wish on anyone. Not even my worst enemy."

The loss and suffering she had endured to get to this point welled up and reflected within her eyes, and I felt pity for this warrior. In a moment of what could either be described as divine inspiration or complete and utter lunacy, I decided to say, "I have no intentions of having my fate wrested from me. Divine intervention or no, I will seek out my own path. You should join me on my quest. Maybe we can find a way to reclaim your fate as well."

Umbra fixed me with an incredulous stare that suggested she thought I was as mad as a hatter.

"You know nothing of me," she said quietly, "and even less of the terrible things I've done."

"I know that you are strong, and have a penchant for feeding your sword powerful souls," I rebutted. "You may be the perfect bodyguard for my travels, as I'm sure my enemies will have very powerful souls for you to feed that blade of yours. And if we should survive our journey, you can have whatever it is you desire, wealth, riches-"

"Your soul," she said breathlessly, "I will only accompany you if, at the end of our quest, you forfeit your soul to Umbra."

I grinned, "Deal."

It was her turn to be stunned. She raised an eyebrow at me and asked, "Just like that? Are you sure you don't want to take a moment and think it over?"

"No need, I accept your proposition. Welcome to the quest!"

Author's Notes:

If I wasn't so gods-damned tired I'd go through and re-read this one more time, but I need to get some sleep. I wrote this while I was at work the other day and transcribed it here, making a few changes here and there until I finally delivered it to you. Of course, with each iteration there's an even greater chance of spelling errors being made (and when you factor in how tired I am, you get this chapter)

But errors aside I had a lot of fun with this. Oblivion's follower system was sort of... meh. But I figured that having some companions for our hero would be ideal, considering he's just a low level mage with a ridiculous amount of magicka and a Blade's katana. It wouldn't be fun for him to just wave a sword and shoot a spell and kill everyone.

And I plan on incorporating more humor in the future, though we'll see what happens in the following chapters. Also, I don't think I'll be writing out each of the main quests objectives, because that will just become tedious and boring.

Here's some music to jam to:

Fool's Gold-Aries

XO Tour Life3-Lil Uzi Vert (all my friends are dead-Umbra's theme song)

Folk Song From The Settlement of the Edge of the Earth-Sewerperson

Dropout-Brakence

The Mystic-Adam Jensen

Thanks for reading.

STOP RIGHT THERE CRIMINAL SCUM!