12 February 2014
The Legend of Tamriel
You finish eating your smoked steak, and begin to pack your things for the day of travel ahead. You have been asked to be a runner from your hometown, Markarth. A grand city built entirely of stone, carved into the side of a mountain long ago. It was said to be built by the Dwemer, an ancient race, who left their mark with ruins dotting the map all over Tamriel.
Your name, Enthir the Fearless. You are a Nord. Nords are know to be pale skinned, tall, fair-haired humans reigning from Atmora, and are known for their spectacular resistance to cold and frost. Known for being soldiers, hired blades, blacksmiths, and merchants, they fit in all over Tamriel.
Your quest, to deliver a Nord-forged blade of impeccable craftsmanship to a worthy collector in the city of Falkreath, far south from Markarth. The smith in your village had taken two fortnights for the process to make this blade, making sure it was flawless. Nords prefer greatswords, axes, or battle-hammers, however this blade was curved and the blade was very thin. You had seen drawings of weapons like this, Katana, only in books, a working replication of weapons used by personal guards of the emperor for centuries. It had been specifically demanded, and even though the smith had never had such a request, he did an immaculate job. The weapon was kept in a wooden casing, cushioned with wool to avoid damage to the blade. You tie the case to your horse Shadowmere, mount him, and begin to travel south. After a few days of traveling, your reserve of venison starts to run out, and you set up a campsite to prepare for a hunting trip to replenish your supply. You tie your horse to your tent, unstrapping your bow and iron dagger from your horse, putting the bade in its sheath and putting on your quiver.
You slowly move through the forest, eyes wide for any sign of movement. You walk east for half an hours time, using the sun for direction, when your ears pick up a rustle to your right. You drop to a crouching position, and peer through the trees, when you see a huge brown wolf roaming through the trees.
Wolf meat wasn’t as tender nor as flavorful as deer, but it would do just fine. You slowly string an iron-arrow, and take aim at your next meal.
You release the arrow, when an ear-splitting roar pierces the area around you, the wolf darts into the forest as your arrow flies, hitting a tree behind it.
The ground beneath you begins to shake, and you look around but do not see anything. An enormous shadow engulfs the ground around you. Your heart sinks as you look up to see what caused such a disturbance.
An enormous beast. Easily 40 feet tall, with scales as black as death, and eyes as red as Oblivion itself. Rows of perfect teeth, sharp as razor blades and a look so sinister on its face. It hits the ground next to you, nearly knocking you over. It stares directly at you standing like a staue. You come to your senses...