Wow Shakes, we were on a role for a while there weren't we?

I swear to God, if you say another word.

Month after month of keeping our precious readers waiting!

Are you forgetting what we were doing in that time Doc?

You mean the excess amount of time spent story-boarding the next two stories? Along with all of the bonus content you and I have come up with?

Good to know you're not an idiot.

I resemble that comment! Quick disclaimer folks. We do not own any of the Elder Scroll series; this includes: characters, setting, and plot. However, we do own any and all OC's you see in these pieces.

Enjoy.

Descent into Darkness

Chapter 4: A Case of 'Wrong Place, Wrong Time.'

"Did you hear the news?" Asked Antionetta, her eyes filled with childlike excitement. Arlia sat at the banquet table across from the sleeping quarters, with Gogron at her side.

"What news?" Asked Gogron, as he polished off a tankard of ale.

"The Emperor has been assassinated!" She exclaimed. Arlia and Gogron both raised a brow. Assassinating an emperor was a huge accomplishment, a feat not to be taken lightly. "And that's not it," she said, "All of his heirs were killed too!"

"Did one of ours do it?" Asked Arlia.

"No," said Antionetta, "As far as Ocheeva knows, that job had no ties to The Brotherhood."

"Must've been a messy job," said Gogron, "After all, The Blades act as the emperor's personal guard. And they're a force to be reckoned with." That much was true. The Blades had a fortress just north of Bruma, Cloud Ruler Temple. Since the First Era, and the days of Reman Cyrodiil, The Blades had served as the emperor's bodyguards, they were a small, elite force of the finest soldiers within the empire.

"Do we have any idea who was behind it?" Asked Arlia.

"No clue," replied Antionetta, "But whoever they are, they certainly wanted the Septim dynasty put to an end." Arlia pondered over this for a moment. She knew one person who may have an idea of who it was.

"I've got to go," she said, as she rose from her seat at the table. Antionetta and Gogron said their farewells as Arlia exited the quarters.

Just yesterday, Arlia had been so furious with him. After sleeping on it, she had realized that there was truth to what Vicente had told her. She allowed her emotions to have so much control over her actions, that it would likely lead to her death someday. Arlia wouldn't let that happen. She pushed open the large wooden doors to the study and found Vicente sitting at his desk. He turned his head as she entered and slightly smiled.

"Good to see you, dear sister," he said, as he rose from his seat, "To what do I owe the pleasure?" Arlia sighed deeply.

"I've been thinking about what you said. And you were absolutely right. I owe you an apology."

"Apology accepted," he said, "We all have our faults. And sometimes those faults must be corrected, right?"

"Right," she said. Vicente motioned for her to sit at the table.

"I'm sure you didn't come down here just to apologize," he said, as they took their seats, "What's on your mind, sister?"

"Well, brother," she said, "I'm sure you've heard the news spreading throughout the Sanctuary."

"That I have. Emperor Uriel Septim and all of his heirs murdered. They say that even a few of The Blades were cut down."

"That is no simple task. A job of that magnitude could not be done by just any common rabble. It had to be the workings of great assassins."

"Indeed. Far greater than anything our agents are capable of."

"Do you truly believe that?"

"A job of that caliber would even be tough for the members of The Black Hand to do. The assailants were no amateurs."

"Do you have any idea who it could have been?" Vicente paused for a moment, lost in thought.

"No idea," he answered.

"Surely you must have a theory."

"There are not many organizations in the business of killing as we are. There is the Morag Tong, Morrowind's version of the Dark Brotherhood, but they rarely take jobs outside of Morrowind. Even then, their operatives aren't nearly as skilled as ours. I highly doubt they were behind this. It must have been something new. Something we've never seen before." Arlia sat silent for a moment. Where would assassins of that caliber come from? Surely they don't just appear out of thin air.

"Anyways," said Vicente, breaking the silence, "I've got another contract for you if you're interested."

"Of course," said Arlia eagerly, "What are the details?"

"The target is a Redgaurd, Destri Aldwyr. Not sure what he's done or what he's mixed up in, but somebody wants him dead. You'll need to travel to the city of Kvatch. From what we know, he frequents the arena and the local tavern."

"Is there a bonus offered for this contract?"

"Indeed there is. Upon giving Lucien payment for the contract, the client provided a quiver of enchanted arrows. Cold to the touch, they will surely chill your targets down to the bone. A fitting reward for one such as yourself."

"Indeed," said Arlia with a smile.

"All the client asked was that you make the kill with your bow. A simple enough task for an archer as skilled as yourself." Arlia smiled and rose from her seat at the table.

"I will set out immediately," she said.

"Good hunting, sister," said Vicente as he rose to his feet, "And safe travels to you." Arlia bowed her head in respect as she turned and walked out of the study. She walked down the corridor, head held high.

"An easy job," she thought as she walked through the Sanctuary, "Destri Aldwyr will die by my hand."

DARKNESS

The large, metal main gates of Kvatch slammed shut behind Arlia as she entered the city. The sun was setting over the walls and darkness was beginning to fall over the city. Arlia looked to her left to see a small group of city guards. Outfitted in chainmail armor, they warily watched over the citizens of Kvatch. They wore white tunics over the chainmail with a black fox insignia on the front. The steel shields bore that same insignia, the symbol of Kvatch. Steel longswords on their hips, ready to cut down any threat to their city's peace.

Arlia smirked as she faced forward and walked down the cobblestone street. "Pitiful law keepers," she thought. She faced forward to see the Chapel of Akatosh before her, its architecture nearly identical to the Chapel of Arkay in Cheydinhal. Surrounding it were much lesser buildings, homes of the citizens of Kvatch.

Arlia strolled leisurely past the chapel, traversing the streets of Kvatch. The sun dipped further over the horizon, the darkness intensifying. The streets began to clear of citizens, children and adults alike rushing home for the evening. "There's no way the arena is still open," she thought, "I'll scout out the tavern." Arlia made her way through the thinning crowd and towards her destination: The Fox's Den.

"How poetic," thought Arlia as she read the sign. She waltzed through the door to see the typical tavern scene: A room full of men, drowning themselves in ale and mead. The pretty, Breton woman behind the bar shot Arlia a smile as she stepped up to the bar.

"Good evening, ma'am. Anything I can get you?"

"Just some wine," Arlia replied, as she pulled 10 gold pieces from her coinpurse, "Tamika, please."

"Ahh, Tamika wine," the woman said, "A fine choice." Arlia set the gold on the bar and sat at a small table near the door. This seat gave her a full view of the entire room. Perfect for stalking her prey. Arlia scanned the room, full of men of various races. Mostly Imperials, one Orc, two Nords, and a single Redguard. That was her target: Destri Aldwyr. Average height, black hair, a thin beard, burgundy garb. She sipped her wine and quietly observed her target joking and drinking with the other men, the alcohol robbing him of his decency. He stumbled about, slurring his words and laughing uncontrollably. Arlia silently observed for a while until she heard the men uttering drunken farewells. The all stumbled towards the door, the Orc dragging one of Nords, too drunk to carry himself home. Destri brought up the back of the pack and shot Arlia a glance as he shuffled out the door. Arlia rose to her feet and tailed him out of the door.

DARKNESS

Destri's vision blurred and the world around him seemed to be spinning. He'd hit it big at the arena today, 500 gold in winnings, and he used his winnings to indulge himself tonight. Perhaps indulged a bit too much. His legs felt numb and he could barely keep his balance as he trudged through the streets of Kvatch. Did he even remember where he lived? He heard a slight shuffle behind him and turned to see that Bosmer woman from the tavern was following him. He wasn't sure what it was, but something about her made him feel uneasy. He shook his head in an attempt to sober up.

Whatever that woman's intentions were, Destri didn't like the way her presence made him feel. He quickened his pace, nearly tripping over his own feet. He glanced back over his shoulder to see that her pace had quickened as well. The dark, empty streets of Kvatch added a sense of eeriness and danger to this situation. Destri heard lighting ring out in the night and looked up I the sky. It had started to take on a strange red tint. Sweat began to stream down Destri's face as he started at a light jog and turned into an alley, hoping to lose his pursuer.

He jogged down the alley, and walked briskly down the next street. The sky was starting to turn more of a deep, blood red, lightning crackling throughout it. Destri shot another glance over his shoulder.

"Lost her," he mumbled, suddenly feeling very sober. He ducked into another alley and took a moment to catch his breath. His heart pounding in his chest, ragged, labored breaths.

"A good effort," he heard a woman's voice call out to him. He froze. He slowly turned to see the Wood Elf standing at the end of the alley, bow drawn and arrow notched. Her face was shrouded in shadow, her black hood keeping her facial features shielded. "But it's going to take a lot more than that to escape me." She pulled the arrow back and let it fly. Destri grunted in pain as the arrow penetrated his throat, and dropped to his knees. The deep red of the sky matched the blood that was beginning to flow from his wound. The Wood Elf approached him, as he choked and struggled to cling to life. He looked up and his eyes met hers. Her black eyes seemed so cold and evil, completely devoid of any compassion. She furrowed her brow as she unsheathed an ebony dagger, the black blade adorned with ornate gold designs. Destri reached up and clung to her black cloak.

"Please," he weakly whispered, blood streaming from the edges of his mouth. The woman growled and raised the dagger above her head. Destri's eyes widened with fear as he heard the crackling of the lightning yet again, the blood red sky above them. She reached down and roughly lifted Destri to his feet, causing him to grunt and wince in pain.

"Die," she whispered, as she forced the dagger down, right where his heart sat. The cold blade forced about his flesh and punctured the very delicate organ. So delicate yet so very vital. Destri's vision blurred and he felt himself fading away. The woman withdrew the dagger and blood began to run out of it. She shoved Destri against the wall. He hit the wall and collapsed onto the cold, hard ground. He lay in the growing puddle of blood as his last breath escaped his lungs.

DARKNESS

Arlia took in a deep breath. Destri Aldwyr lay dead before her. She wiped down her blade and sheathed it. "I've never seen a storm like this," she muttered as she looked up to the red sky. She gazed at the sky for a moment, the stars hidden behind the deep red coloration of the cosmos.

"No matter," she thought, "Job's done. Time to leave this wretched place." She stepped out of the alley and into the street. At that moment, there was a tremendous thunderclap and lightning struck the ground right outside of Kvatch. The force was enough to knock Arlia off her feet and she scrambled to get back up. Her eyes darted over to Kvatch's front gate and she saw two giant, stone obelisks rise up above the city walls, with what looked like a wall of fire between them. Arlia rushed towards the gate to see the great steel doors melt right before her eyes. A group of six large, humanoid creatures rushed through the breach and growled in sick, twisted voices. Arlia had heard the tales. They all had. She just never thought she'd see one up close. Standing roughly six and a half feet tall, encased in black armor with some blood red plates along the front and down the arms, was what was going to lay waste to the city of Kvatch. Skin as black as the Void. Piercing red eyes. Sharp, twisted horns jutting from their foreheads. Vicious swords, hammers, bows, and axes in their hands. These were the dreaded Dremora, the foot soldiers of the daedra. Arlia was frozen in her tracks, staring in awe of these creatures. A squad of city guards rushed past her, swords drawn, ready to engage this threat to their city's security. Arlia snapped out of her trance and readied her bow. She pulled an arrow from her quiver, notched it, and took aim. Time slowed. Arlia drew a deep breath and let the arrow loose. It flew straight and true, piercing the cuirass of one of the Dremora. He fell backwards onto the ground, defeated. In that same instant, the guards collided with their foes. Several were cut down instantly, overwhelmed by the brute strength of the Dremora. Suddenly, more creatures rushed in from the breached gate. A group of three very small, elf-like creatures, they had pale skin and sharp, jagged teeth, they wore no clothing and they had very lean physiques. They screeched simultaneously and cupped their hands together. The air around their hands crackled and sparked as they conjured fireballs and hurled them at the guards. The fireballs slammed into the shields of the guards, heating them to scalding temperatures. The guards howled in pain and dropped the shields as they slowly began to melt and contort. The Dremora saw this is an opportunity and attacked. In an instant, the remaining guards were cut down, no match for the other-worldly warriors. More guards came running into the plaza from every direction, rushing headfirst into battle. Arlia paused, thinking things over for a brief moment. These guards didn't stand a chance against these creatures and there was no way Arlia could hold them off on her own.

"Quick!" She heard a man yell, "Into the chapel!" She turned to see a squad of guards corralling the citizens of Kvatch into the Chapel of Akatosh. Arlia glanced over at the Dremora once again as they butchered the foolish guards that had challenged them. She shook her head as she rushed towards the chapel, falling in with the townsfolk. They hastily shuffled through the large doors as the guards slammed them shut, hoping to keep out the fearsome Dremora. Arlia peered around the room. Several large pillars acting as support beams around the room, a large red carpet, leading up the shrine with a row of benches on each side. Several torch sconces lit the room. Groups of civilians all over the room, some carrying bags of provisions and luxuries. Arlia walked towards a bench and flopped down onto it, taking a moment to catch her breath. A simple contract. Easy money, and now Arlia was caught in some kind of nightmare. "By Talos," a guard said as he approached her, "You killed one!" The Nord before her looked as if he were still a child, likely a fresh recruit to the guard force. His dark brown eyes lit up with excitement and admiration as he look upon Arlia. This warranted a sigh of frustration.

"And your people killed none." She said with barred teeth.

"Precisely!" He exclaimed, "With you here, we'll be able to hold them off!"

"Don't bet on it," she said, "I don't plan on staying long." The guard doubled back, shocked by what he heard.

"But you're the best hope we have," he said with quivering lips, "This is-"

"This isn't my fight!" Arlia growled. The guard slumped onto the bench across the aisle and slowly removed his helmet, his dark brown hair soaked with sweat.

"I truly hope you will reconsider," said an Imperial man as he sat next to Arlia. He had a deep, smooth voice. He wore a simple grey robe and his deep blue eyes were so gentle yet they had a sort of strength to them, determination perhaps. His light brown hair was nearly shoulder length and he swept out of his face as his eyes met Arlia's.

"And who in Oblivion are you?" Asked Arlia.

"Forgive me," he said awkwardly, "I didn't mean to intrude. My name is Martin. I'm a priest here at the chapel. These people really could use your help. I saw you out there, you stood strong in the face of that onslaught. You even managed to bring down one of those demons."

"This isn't my concern," said Arlia, "I have no business here."

"But you do," said Martin, "We, the people of Kvatch, need your help, Miss?" He paused, awaiting a response.

"You need not know my name for I will not be around long enough for it to be of importance."

"Where will you go?" He inquired, "Kvatch is likely crawling with those creatures now. You won't stand a chance against them alone."

"And what's your plan? Wait for them to batter down the doors and slaughter you all here? The great Chapel of Akatosh. Will it be Kvatch's saving grace in your hour of need? Unlikely. Simply a slaughterhouse." Arlia rose from the bench and walked towards an empty corner of the chapel.

"I didn't mean to upset you!" Martin shouted after her. She didn't turn back to face him, simply marched towards the corner to have some time to think.

DARKNESS

It had been nearly an hour since Arlia had sought refuge within the chapel. Many of the people around her made light conversation with one another and others struggled to fall asleep. The sounds of battle had faded away, along with the screams of the fallen. For now, it seemed as if all was peaceful outside. Had the Dremora moved on? Gone to lay waste to Anvil or Skingrad perhaps? Arlia sat alone in the corner, pondering her next move. There was a group of five guards near the doors, four men and one woman. Arlia figured she could be out of the chapel before they had a chance to stop her. She slowly rose to her and began moving towards the door. She passed the benches only to be met by Martin.

"What do you want, priest?" She whispered.

"I just wanted to apologize for earlier," he said softly, "I feel as though I upset you. But I was also wondering if you'd finally decided to stay." Arlia furrowed her brow and glared at Martin.

"No." She said sternly as she shoved him out of her path. She strode toward the door, determined to escape this death trap.

"Wait!" Martin shouted. The guards at the door turned to face Arlia as she approached them.

"Ma'am please," said the woman, "You can't go out there." Arlia said nothing, merely snarled and pushed her to the ground. Before the other guards could react, Arlia lifted the large wooden bar from the door and threw it to the ground. They all began shouting and scrambling for their weapons as Arlia pushed open the large steel door.

Arlia slipped through the opening and started out at a dead a sprint towards the town gates. The chapel doors slammed shut behind her, the guards not wanting to risk any Dremora slipping in. Arlia didn't think that would be a problem. The area around the chapel seemed to be deserted. The city of Kvatch lay in ruins; the streets littered with corpses, buildings set ablaze or torn to rubble, and the Dremora seemed to have moved further into the city.

Arlia quickly leapt through the hole that had been melted in the gate to see the wall of fire before her. She carefully sidestepped towards the obelisk to her left and went around it, not wanting to be incinerated. As she started at her sprint again, she was startled by a man's voice.

"Watch out! Here they come again!" Arlia heard the flame wall behind her crackle and suddenly she was surrounded by Dremora as well as those strange, elf-like creatures. She barreled past them and made a break for a wooden barricade on the other side of the small clearing. She could see what looked like a group of about five men, four of which wore Kvatch guard uniforms, the other wore simple chainmail armor. The men braced themselves as they readied their weapons, swords pulled from their sheaths and arrows notched. Arlia heard a twisted growl from behind her as she felt a hand grasp her shoulder. With overwhelming strength, a Dremora pulled her to the ground and raised a large warhammer above his head. Arlia quickly rolled to the side, the warhammer pummeling the ground where she had laid. She quickly reached for her dagger, only for the Dremora to swing his gauntleted hand and backhand Arlia, sending her flying a few feet. She winced in pain as she bounced off the ground, being very slow to get up. If it weren't for those men attacking the Dremora at that instant, she would likely have been butchered. The Dremora growled as three arrows hit his chest plate and he stumbled to the ground.

"Watch out for the Scamps!" One of the men yelled as the elf-like creatures rushed to engage in combat. Arlia finally got back on her feet, only to have a fireball fly past her, narrowly missing its mark. The Scamp that had thrown it stood just a few feet away and began swiping at Arlia with its claws. She quickly dodged its attacks, drawing her dagger as she moved. With one fluid motion, she dodged the left and brought her dagger down, penetrating the beast's chest. It whimpered and growled as it fell to the ground, red blood pouring from its wound. Arlia turned to see the men now engaged in melee combat with their attackers, struggling to put down a pair of Dremora. One in particular had its back turned to her and Arlia pounced on him without hesitation. Latching onto the Dremora's shoulders, Arlia stabbed furiously with her dagger, riddling his chest and neck with holes. He screamed in pain and reached over his shoulders in an attempt to grab Arlia. She pushed off his back and flipped back onto the ground, sending him toppling over as he succumbed to his wounds. The other Dremora was quickly dispatched by two of the men as they clumsily struck him down with their war axes.

"Amateurs," thought Arlia, as she sheathed her dagger, "These men have never seen combat before tonight."

"Quickly!" A man from behind the barrier shouted, "Regroup!" The men all scuttled around the barrier and huddled around the other two men; the one in chainmail and the other appeared to be the guard captain. Arlia slowly approached the group of man and the captain's face lit up. He was a slightly older Breton man, his brown hair had several gray patches and his green eyes, which before looked very weary, now had a sense of excitement in them.

"Thanks for the assist," he said happily, "I'm Savliun Matius, captain of the guard here in Kvatch."

"Well, Captain," said Arlia, "It's been a pleasure but I really must be going." With that, she raised her hood over her head and brushed past the men, starting on the path down the hill.

"Wait!" Matius called, "You came from inside the city. So you know just how bad this situation is." He ran to catch up to her and blocked her path. "I could really use your help here. You seem to have much more combat experience than my men. They're scared stiff."

"And rightly so," she said, "But this city is not my concern." The man in chainmail stepped around Arlia and stood next to Matius, his expression very stern. This Imperial stood roughly six feet tall and was very lean and muscular; he had slightly tanned skin and dark brown eyes and hair. His chainmail armor looked somewhat worn, and he wore a simple steel longsword on his hip. Upon his back her carried a small quiver of arrows and an iron bow.

"Please," he said, "Your help would be greatly appreciated."

"Appreciation does nothing for me," she said.

"Well perhaps there's something I can do for you," he said, "You came from within the city just now, correct? Well, that means you were likely holed up within the chapel."

"Yes, that's right," said Arlia, rather impressed by his astute assumption. "What of it?"

"Did you happen to see a priest inside? A man named Martin."

"Ahh yes," she said, "The priest of Akatosh. Yes, I spoke with him."

"Then he's still alive?"

"Last I saw, yes."

"Do you think you could take me to him?"

"Well that depends. What's in it for me?" The man paused awkwardly, and glanced over at Matius.

"Well, you've no doubt heard the news;" he said hesitantly, "The emperor and all of his heirs are dead."

"Indeed I have," she said, "And how does that pertain to the priest?"

"Not all of the heirs were killed. The priest, Martin, is an illegitimate son of Uriel Septim." He paused awkwardly for a moment, trying to gage her reaction. "And thus, the emperor of Cyrodiil." Arlia chuckled at the thought. A lowly priest was now in line to be the emperor? It all seemed very farfetched to her.

"If you help me," he continued, "I will see to it that you are greatly rewarded upon his safe return." Arlia raised a brow. If it were true, these men would shower her with riches in return for her assistance. The thought of a mountain of gold intrigued her.

"Very well," she said, "What exactly do you need me to do?"

The man let out a sigh of relief and said, "We need to get into the city and pull Martin out of the chapel. However, I don't feel comfortable doing that with the daedra pouring into the city."

"So what are you proposing?"

"That wall of fire seems to be acting as a gate, allowing the Dremora to enter Tamriel from Oblivion. I've figured that there must be a way to shut the gate, but only from within."

"You want to go in there?" She asked.

"It's the only way," he replied, "After that, we can rescue Martin and we'll be on our way."

"There could be thousands of them in there," she said, "Yet, there are only six of us."

"Two, actually," said Matius, "My men and I would remain here while you two went inside."

"This is suicide." said Arlia, slapping her hand to her face.

"It may be," said the Imperial, "But it's the best plan we've got. I can guarantee you a great reward."

Arlia pondered over it for a moment longer. She didn't relish the thought of facing down an army of Dremora. But she did enjoy the thought of the great reward that continued to be mentioned.

"You've get a deal," she said, as she held out her hand. The Imperial smiled as he firmly grasped it.

"Cassius Sestius," he said, "Pleasure to meet you."

"Arlia Oakthorn," she replied. With that, the trio walked back up the hill and Savliun informed his men of the plan.

"Best of luck to you," he said, "Give those bastards hell." Arlia and Cassius nodded as they turned and began walking towards the gate of fire.

"Never thought I would be something as crazy as this," said Cassius as they stopped just a few feet away from the gate.

"You're telling me." said Arlia. The both exhale deeply as the heat radiating from the gate seemed to make their very blood boil. Without another word, they both stepped forward and allowed themselves to be engulfed in the flames.