The sky stormed on as Loghvar mounted his white horse outside the city gates and pulled the reigns toward his homestead. The Giant ring soon let three more anchors fall through its portal and smash into the ground directly below, erupting a cloud of dirt and snow and ice. With his sword in hand, Loghvar charged forward on his steed, eager to find what had become of his home; had anything happened at all.

On her own brown steed, Anea followed quickly behind her friend, spurring her horse incessantly to keep up with his frantic pace. As they rode Loghvar put the blade of his dunmeri sword in between his neck and his smithing apron's neck tie. He cut the apron loose around his waist as well and it fluttered past them in the wind as they drew closer to the scene of the portal's opening.

Loghvar was not sure what to expect; he had read many texts on oblivion, and this was clearly daedric in nature, but he had never seen or heard of one of these rings in his research. The dark blue energy visibly circling the ring, the grotesquely formed chains with giant hooks plunging into the earth and gripping hold of Nirn. Maybe he could better determine which of the princes it was pulling the strings the closer they came.

The sound of the whirling metal and crackling lightning was far more resounding as both of the riders pulled back hard on their reigns and came to a stop as close as they could to the machine before leaving the dirt path. With her axe, and his sword, they dismounted and prepared to face whatever monstrosities had seeped through the cracks of the other realms. Loghvar looked up at the great contraption and his lips could only part; his eyes could only focus on the anchor. He snapped out of his trance and regained his hold on reality, looking away from the ring and back to the east, to his home.

"I need to check on my father!" he declared. They both looked over their shoulders as they heard a growing sound of thunder rolling in from the west. It was a horde of Pact soldiers, come to combat the daedra.

"I'll join the fight; you find your Dad!" Anea shouted before charging through the forest toward the portal with the other soldiers. The sky continued to crack with shades of blue and the portal in the sky lingered, held in place with its anchors and dark magic.

Loghvar ran along the path a while longer before coming upon the clearing where his house was located. He ducked beside a snow-covered tree and observed the situation. One of the anchors from the sky had smashed through the roof of the barn that had now caught fire. He had no time to lose. As he ran out from his cover he was assaulted by surprise from his left. A fiendish and demonic scamp shot out from the darkness of the forest and grappled onto Loghvar's shoulder with its claws, tearing through his clothes and digging into his flesh.

Screaming, Loghvar plunged his sword into the Scamp's stomach and watched as the blade exploded out the beast's back, spraying blood. The body of the Scamp fell to the ground soon after, slumping into the snow before bursting into ashes.

Loghvar stepped back and tried to catch his breath, but the daedric pest had scared all of the air out of his lungs and left him with a wounded arm. Only a flesh wound, but who knew what parasites and viruses that scamp was carrying. He quickly remembered why he had ran over in the first place, and then continued to sprint for his father's house.

Slaked with blood, his sword splattered the red fluids along his home's wall as he slammed the door open with his sword-hand. He saw the bodies of three Daedra on the ground, eviscerated and mangled – from an axe by the look of the wounds. Parts of their limbs had already crumbled to ashes. His heart surely sank and his eyes shrunk back in his skull as he looked farther into the room and witnessed two Daedra prodding at his father's unmoving body slouched against the wall, blood pouring from his wounds.

The horned and armored Dremora pair turned around and drew their blades. Their armor was twisted and scorched, not unlike their complexions, and their voices held the same rough qualities.

"More meat." One of them hissed from in between his sharp teeth. The other scoffed and then smiled.

"More fun for us." He said before they began to walk toward their next victim. Loghvar gritted his teeth and tried not to react emotionally, but it was a difficult task.

"You're gonna pay for this…" Loghvar whispered as he held out his left hand to his side. The Dremora stopped advancing as they gazed on in worry at the light emitting from his hand. A long pole of pure light energy formed in his palm and the end rounded off in a point like a spear. "I'll kill you!" He cried. Holding the spear of light behind him, he took one hopping step forward and then let go.

The Dremora tried to raise his weapon up to block the attack, but the spear just brushed by the broad edge of his sword and placed itself where his black heart resided. The light ripped through the Dremora's back and then disappeared, leaving behind a cindering and untreatable wound. The one Dremora reached stumbling forward to grab at Loghvar, regardless of the distance, and crumbled down to the floor before disintegrating into ashes.

The second Dremora charged at Loghvar, stepping over his allies remains, promptly turning them to ashes as his feet trampled them beneath. Loghvar stood his ground, holding his sword out at the ready pointed down in a guarding stance. His sword absorbed the shock of the Dremora's heavy attack, and sparks flew off of Loghvar's enchanted blade. The two opponents exchanged blows for only a short time before the Dremora roared and punched Loghvar in the stomach while his guard was up too high.

Loghvar reeled back and held his stomach, wincing at the soreness. The Dremora attacked again, raising his weapon up high for what was his final attack. Loghvar took his sword in hand and waited for the Dremora to get closer. When the daedra went to swing his sword down Loghvar sprung up as if he had never been hit, and slashed across the Dremora's leg. The daedra fell to his bloodied knees and groaned before turning to attack the mer behind him. With the daedra weakened he found it easy to shove the Dremora's weapon upwards as the vile creature went to attack. Stunning his enemy with his surprisingly heavy attack, Loghvar flipped his blade around so it was facing downward and then he rushed it down.

The blade crackled with blue and white electricity as it sunk deep into the Dremora's shoulder and through his torso, causing blood to bubble up from the wounds in his armor. He began choking on his blood as it poured out of his mouth, coating his chin, but he soon turned to ashes as well.

Loghvar pulled his weapon from the ashes and dropped to one knee to catch his breath. His books had never truly prepared him to face a Dremora. But at least he could narrow down his list of possible suspects: not all Daedric Princes employed the ranks of the Dremora and their Kyn.

Turning as he rose, Loghvar ran over to his father and threw his weapon to the ground, instead grabbing the man's shoulders. He shook his father back and forth, hoping to return at least a flicker of life to his body.

"Please, Father!" He cried, "For the love of Akatosh; don't leave me!" tears had begun to form beneath his eyes. When all had seemed lost, Balov coughed and his eyes flickered.

"Son?"

"It's me, Pa! It's me!" Loghvar said as he wiped his face. Balov smiled and then sighed before once more coughing.

"Listen to me… son…"

"No Father! Rest! I'll make you a potion of-

"No…" Balov interrupted, "It is… too late for… for me."

Loghvar went silent and listened carefully to his father's words.

"On the desk… in the study… is a note. Take it… take what I left for you and go… please…" he coughed once more and his wounds began to bleed again. Loghvar opened his mouth and went to say something, but the squeeze of Balov's hand on his wrist stopped him. "Don't… disappoint me… boy…" With all of the strength left in his body, Balov reached to his neck and ripped the Nordic locket from his possession, letting it dangle in his bloody fingers. "Take Jayne and Loghvar… keep them safe… I'll be with them… waiting for you..." His hand fell, and was caught by Loghvar who took the locket without hesitation. On the back of the square locket was a sentence written in draconic letters: Death Cannot Stop Us. And within the locket upon opening it were two names: Jayne and Loghvar. Written beneath these names was another sentence, but in Cyrodiilic: We will meet in Sovngard.

"Father, I…" he looked back at his father, but the nord man's gaze fell to the floor, empty. Without another word, biting his lip, he brushed his hand over his father's face, closing his eyes eternally. Loghvar carefully hooked the locket around his neck and found some comfort in the weight on his chest.

Loghvar quickly whipped around when he heard a distant explosion and the clashing of battle, but turned back when he had remembered his father's words. The elf ran as fast as he could to the study and pulled the door open.

On the desk was a suit of heavy Nordic armor, sans helmet, padded with fur and finished in reds and grey. On closer inspection it became evident that this garb was recently made; not a nick or dent on it, and no dust or grime. Leaning against the desk was a round buckler shield covered with Nordic etchings, just like some of the plates on the armor. The mer suited up – the armor fit perfectly – and was about to leave the old books and antique weapons to their fate before he remembered the note.

He returned to the desk and tore open the sealed envelope. Unfolding the parchment, Loghvar read the words inside his head, with his father's voice.

Loghvar,

I know that something is coming, and I want you to be prepared; I want you to be safe. I am sorry for not telling you, but I did not want you following me to my death. I have rejoined the military and we plan to march on the Imperials tomorrow, south of Falkreath, right on the border.

I want you to have this armor to use in good health should our campaign not go as planned and anything should threaten you. I made it myself with two weeks' pay from the farm, and I hope it will serve you well.

You are a man just like my father in so many ways, and we're not even related by blood. He once said to me that one day all men have to choose between the things we choose to believe in; the causes we decide to follow. People, Nation, Religion, I just hope that you choose wisely when it comes to your time, I on the other hand am not so sure about my choice.

We will see each other again, son, whether I survive this war or not. If my son had ever been born, I'm honestly not sure if he could live up to the pride that I have in you. I'll be with you, whether you want it or not, I'll be with you.

Love,

Balov Bright-Frost, Lieutenant of the Ebon-Heart Pact

Loghvar choked back his tears and pocketed the message in his breastplate.

"I know, Dad…" he whispered to himself, "I know…" so he drew his blade and ran for the front door. He stopped dead in his tracks when three Dremora burst through the entry and cackled to themselves, gnashing their teeth.

"I'm gonna rape your corpse, elf." One of them sneered as the creature brandished a daedric mace.

"Try it, and I'll cut yer damn balls off!" With those words Loghvar had signed his death warrant. "You've already taken ev'rything from me! Bring it you milk-drinking swine!"

To his luck, Loghvar could make out the sound of a man charging toward them, screaming. A sword nary as tall as the average man tore through the back and then the gut of one of the Dremora. The Daedra's accomplices turned to attack their new assailant and Loghvar saw his opportunity.

The elf lunged forward and stabbed one of the Dremora in the heart through his back, paralyzing the demon completely while his friend still assaulted the other man. Before the third Dremora could do much damage to Loghvar's savior Loghvar shot a ball of fire magic from his shield-hand and it contacted with the Daedra's face.

Loghvar watched as the Dremora's face melted off and he continued swinging his sword frantically about the room. Pulling his blade from the back of the Dremora, who then fluttered to the ground as ashes, Loghvar ended the remaining enemy's life and turned to see the last body sliding off of the man's greatsword. It too hit the ground and burst into ashes.

A celadon eyed Imperial man with a short red-brown cut stood behind the sword in a suit of Imperial armor, but with the Ebonheart Pact symbol of the dragon emblazoned on his chest.

"You fight well, elf." The man said.

"I'm no elf."

"Believe what you'd like, but you did good work here it seems." The imperial man, not much older looking than Loghvar, said.

"Most of it was my Father's doing."

"And where is he?"

Loghvar stepped to the side and motioned to Balov's corpse on the floor.

"Oh… You have my sympathies-

Loghvar pushed past the man without concern and stepped out onto the snow. The barn had burnt down to practically nothing now. Loghvar, without further impeding, began to walk off towards where the main battle was. He hoped more than anything that Anea was alright. Other soldiers ran passed him all converging on the site of the daedric disturbance.

"My name is Ventarius, and yours?" said the soldier following after him.

"Loghvar, but introductions'll have to wait."

"Well-said, Loghvar, we still have a portal to destroy!"

"Back to Oblivion with ye!" Anea barked her words while her axe tore through the chest of a Dremora wielding a mace. Gore and ashes adorned the battlefield and forlorn weapons laid abreast their former masters whose blood ran the snow dark red. At the base of this 'Dark Anchor' were three giant jagged hooks that were pulling extremely tight. Daedric monstrosities appeared from enchanted smoke clouds raining down from the airborne portal encompassed by the massive ring. Hordes of Nords, Dunmer, and Argonians broke through the forest wall out into the opening where the anchor had landed and clashed with the Daedra, showing extreme prejudice to these innately vile monsters.

Loghvar, Ventarius, and a large troop of soldiers rushed into the fray from the forest to the east; each soldier drew blade or bow and joined the offensive. The battlefield became increasingly bloody and bodies brushed on blades adding to the already deafening volume of the battle.

Loghvar did not even have time to call out Anea's name, as fruitless as that would have been, before an enemy shield was shoved in his face and with barely enough time to prepare himself for the attack. The elf pushed back with his own shield and was met with the full might of Dremora muscle; the daedra moved only an inch before holding its ground. Around them still a hundred battles raged, and with the daedra seemingly far from defeat. After exchanging a few more hits with his foe Loghvar saw his opponents legs were for the moment unguarded and so he delivered a heavy kick to the Dremora's knee. His armor did him little good when his greaves were without knee plating, as was the fate of a grunt. His leg twisted and cracked and he released a terrible hissing scream. Loghvar immediately straddled the air over the daedra and plunged his sword into his enemy's chest, killing the daedra spawn.

With Ventarius elsewhere on the field Loghvar had no one watching his back when a blue frilled Clannfear rushed at him through the crowd. If it were not for another soldier he would have likely been mortally wounded by the reptilian beast. A blue scaled Argonian with a crown of five grey-brown horns sticking out of his head dived at the Clannfear and pierced both sides of its neck with his two daggers, sliding the blades in between its scales. The daggers choked the beast and brought it to the ground, almost crushing the Argonian beneath it. When Loghvar's savior rose to his feet the elf could clearly see that the thin Argonian man was wearing a suit of Imperial leathers.

"Up, up!" the scaly man pleaded. "Back to the fight!" he motioned for Loghvar to follow him into the field of bodies. Loghvar pulled his blade from the ash pile melting the snow and ran after the skilled rogue. The two of them rushed into the most bustling area of battle and cut into the enemy forces, drawing ever closer to the dark anchor's hooks. The Argonian seemed to be using some strange kind of magic – energy as black as night – which Loghvar had never heard of before. Ducking down, the Argonian feigned his way around one enemy and pushed him in Loghvar's direction; the Dark Elf cut across the stumbling Dremora's chest with his crackling sword and shoved the fatally wounded daedra to the side with his shield.

"Duck!" The Argonian shouted as he pointed behind Loghvar. The elf did as he was warned and barely had enough time to see the scaled man pull a one-handed crossbow from his belt and fire in his direction. The bolt flew at a mace wielding Dremora and stopped after sticking through its neck, spattering blood and saving Loghvar's life another time.

Elsewhere on the battlefield a hulking Flesh-Atronach rose its hooked metal forearm to the sky and then smashed it down on a nearby Nord soldier, squashing him and violently splattering gore all over the area of impact. Anea saw the magical machination, with its skull-narrow face and sagging flesh, and immediately rushed through the crowd of fighting soldiers to face a more worthy opponent.

"Hey! You! The horker-looking bastard!" she yelled at it while she twirled her axe around in her hands. "Wanna fight?" she continued pushing her way through the crowd. The creature turned its head to face the woman and its fleshy flaps swung back and forth beneath its chin. The Atronach charged toward the nord woman as she drew closer still, and it swung its heavy metal arm back and forth wiping the field in front of it of all living things, leaving only gore and snow in its wake.

As the Atronach brought its arm back to prepare a strike Anea slid underneath the monster's legs and stood up on the other side, facing its back. The confused creature stumbled forward to strike at nothing while Anea leapt up on its back and climbed up its protruding vertebrae. She roared and then brought her axe's head down into the flesh atronach's skull. At first the Atronach continued paying attention to the soldiers around it rather than the one on its back, but with two more strikes to its head the Atronach was down. Smashing into the ground, the body of the beast fell limp and Anea hopped off of its corpse, yanking her axe from its mutilated skull.

Ventarius ripped through the wall of enemies protecting the anchor with his greatsword and fire magic. Both Loghvar and the Argonian were on his heels and slashed their way to the hooks digging into the ground beneath the wretched portal.

"Keep them off of me!" Ventarius commanded. The two warriors saw no reason to complain and set their blades on the enemies that were besetting the Imperial. Ventarius leaned back, puffed up his cheeks and then cast his spell sending a raging cone of orange fire erupting from his mouth toward the anchor. The chains began to melt, but he ran out of magicka before the deed was done.

Realizing what the Imperial's plan was Loghvar turned his attention back to the anchor. He grabbed his sword facing the pommel forward and began smashing the end of the weapon against the red hot chains, which began to crack under the heat and his blows. To his surprise Anea appeared out of the battlefield and began swinging her axe at another of the three hooks.

"There you are!" she cried as she continued hammering the blunt of her axe on the metal. The Argonian soon joined and took his hilts to the third hook.

Loghvar struck his pommel against the chain once more and the already unstably hot metal cracked apart. Under the increased pressure from losing one of the chains the others snapped and flew up into the air and were then swallowed by the portal. A loud groaning sound echoed from the ring as the outward anchors began to lose their grip on Nirn as well. Daedra began exploding into ashes at random, while some others were merely pulled into the air and sucked back in through the portal. The four destroyers of the hooks braced themselves on the ground as they waited for whatever was to come next.

The remaining anchors were torn from the ground and began to swing across the forest and fields, tearing down trees and demolishing rocks as the chains were pulled back toward the ring. The chains tore across the bloody battlefield, crushing soldiers into pieces as they swept around on their way back through the portal. When the last twisted hook was pulled through the portal the ring exploded, sending a wave of magicka through the air raining down sparks of magic on the remaining soldiers below.

Loghvar rose back to his feet and looked around at the scene. Hundreds of bodies littered the meadow and only around ten soldiers were left alive and mostly uninjured. The sky began to clear, but still the constellation of the Serpent shone through the sky stronger than ever before.

Loghvar slowly turned to face the three other saviors of the city, all tired and weary-eyed. He stuck his sword in the ground and began to breathe regularly again.

"I'm gonna kill whoever opened that damned gate if it takes my whole life!" he said as he wiped a streak of blood off of his face.