The Elder Scrolls; Shadowlynch

13

There was no end to the rage that built up inside of Lynch. His eyes turned black. The veins in his head and arms popped out. His struggling became hectic and the force became weaker and weaker. The figure began to laugh manically, but as Lynch's bonds broke, he stood tall, broad, furious. The archers along the walls all fired arrows directly at Lynch, and each one of them simply bounced from his body. A red aura emitted from him as he slowly approached the man, now stumbling back in astonishment and fear. The very ground beneath his feet turned black with decay and ruin as he stepped closer.
'What are you doing you fools?! Kill him!' The man ordered, turning to the mass of men behind the barricades, but they in stead inched backwards. One of them ran towards Lynch screaming a war cry, but was knocked back across the courtyard when Lynch swung for him. That was when the hooded man was stupid enough to charge into him too, and was now held by his throat in the air, his neck was being crushed and Lynch could see in his eyes he was regretting everything, but Lynch continued to enclose his huge paws into his throat. Finally, there was a click and a snap, and Lynch tossed aside the body, turning to all of the Mythic Dawn agents now. Erathor and Samuel stood up and while Erathor quickly saw to the Boy, Samuel stretched out and regained his bearings, but didn't stand aside Lynch, he simply watched. With eyes that were agape. 'So this is what the Keeper meant by Lynch not being mortal.' He thought to himself as Lynch's feet were no longer touching the ground, black feathered wings sprung from his spine and lifted him afloat in mid air. The aura grew stronger, and the bells in his dreads rung along with the ground. All of a sudden all of the twenty something Mythic Dawn agents atop the walls fired a storm of arrows to him and all the ones on the ground charged. But all of the arrows that were fired fell to the ground like feathers and the charging onslaught of Mythic Dawn were all stopped dead in their tracks. Literally, dead.

As Lynch picked his Blade of Woe from the ground and with blindingly fast speeds sliced through all of them without giving them a chance to even see him move forward. The arrows that fell were falling because of one thing; demonic power. The demonic power that had the ability to reshape the world around Lynch. And it was that power that sent all of the Archers now fleeing for their lives down the walls tumbling to their deaths as the huge battlements began to fall and collapse.

Lynch approached the Boy in the air, floating to him like an angel of death. He picked him up with ease and carried him to the centre of the courtyard. Out of all the bodies in the courtyard, all of the blood, there was only one worth saving, and it was this Boy. The way his eyes lit up whenever Lynch would look into them was gone, only the faded colour from his cheeks was left noticeable about him now. His blood was pouring onto Lynch's hand, and from the corner of his eye formed a tear, a single tear, but not one of a mere mortal, this was a tear of Daedric Blood. It seared and burned Lynch's face as it ran down his cheeks and fell from his chin onto the Boy's young and gaunt face, but he didn't feel the pain. And that was when he started to turn back into a Wood Elf again, the wings returned into his back, only two huge scars were left down his spine as a reminder of what he once became. And he returned to the ground, kneeling, holding the Boy in his arms now. There was nothing left he could do, that was it, that was the end of him. His size returned to normal and the aura faded away, the only thing that had shifted back to normal that he truly despised now was the silence. The stabbing silence. He began to cry, all of his clothes were torn and so was he, but the tears did not hurt like that one blood tear did, they did not sear down his face, although they may as well have. His heart crashed into his chest and despite all of the death and pain that he had been forced through in the past, he could promise himself this was the worst.

The sun was setting into the dawn now, and after that gruesome day, Lynch cared not for the meaning of his transformation, he only cared for the Boy's burial. After a short discussion of whether or not they should bury him in Woodsong, they in stead thought it better to simply bury him atop a hill near Fort Aurus. The service was short and simple, but kind words were said, a lot of them. And it was the most heart aching thing they had to do. Such a young and talented Boy, he was becoming a man in his own time with them, but they rushed him in too quick, overestimated him, treat him like the skilled combat master they all thought he was. But alas, a sixteen year old boy could not ever gain the amount of experience that any of the others had, not in such a small space of time any ways.
'How are you holding up, Lynch?' Mayes asked, putting a re assuring hand on his shoulder as the others now set off down the hill and off on the road again. Even Samuel felt remorse for his new companions, as they all told stories about him, how much hard work he put into training and how it was such a shame to see such a bright young fighter fall down so easily. Samuel had only seen a little of the Boy's ability through the halls of that Fort, but from what he did see, he had no doubt what everyone was saying was true.
'I'm.. I'm okay.' Lynch replied, turning to walk down the pathway with Mayes.
'Once this is all done, we'll come back for him, I promise you.' She said.
'What would be the use? His body would be in decay.' Mayes was unable to find the right reply to that, and instead hung her head in silence for a moment.
'And how are you doing, Lynch?' She asked, obviously referring to his transformation.
'I don't know what it was. I remember Roen had spoke to me in my dreams about it before, apparently he said there was something in me that was meant to save people.' He replied, reaching his hand up his tunic to run his fingers along his fresh scars.
'It looked to me like some sort of Vampire Lord form, but that would instantly be out of the question. You're not a Vampire.' Lynch had no quarrel with that, as he knew even though he fed Mayes, Mayes was originally a Lycan, and would therefore have no links to that type of power.
'No... No that was some sort of demonic power. Daedric, perhaps. I think the Blade had something to do with it. I was wondering why Moi looked so pleased to hand me it.' Lynch said, now transferring his hands to his sheathe and pulling out his Blade of Woe, looking deep into the cracks that ran along it.
'Erathor will know what to think. He's been researching this type of thing for two hundred years now.' She finally continued, patting him once more before hurrying along to join Samuel and Erathor, who were deep in conversation about the shard.
'? Only if combined with the sword, Samuel.'
'Ah, so THEN will Meridium rise up?'
'It's supposedly Anov that's meant to come back, but hey, who knows. They're both mixed together, so it would make sense.'
'What are you two talking about now?' Mayes asked, butting into the conversation as she came to them.
'All this business with the end of the world and the shard being our only chance to save it. Thing is, we don't even know what we're supposed to do with the bloody thing once we all get sucked into the Shadowland.' Erathor rambled on like this for a while as they went along the roads, picking over everything they had already discussed for Samuel's sake.

They set up camp later that night, with only Samuel and Mayes sleeping, it was once more a case of Lynch and Erathor in the trees restlessly guarding their friends. But for once, the silence remained, there wasn't even as much as a rabbit passing over the road that they could see. Lynch liked to believe it was almost as if the Boy had set over them a protective barrier to watch over them. As much as he knew this couldn't be true, he learnt from the Boy himself that there was no harm in having a dream.

The morning arrived, creeping over the horizon line over the trees and past the mountains, but no matter how far it seemed, it was always there, like the voices inside Lynch's head. They were screaming at him. Something inside of him was trying to get out, and he feared it was already getting close. The fact that he wasn't truly mortal harrowed on him, and it shook every bone in his body and rattled his mind, depriving him from sleep and from any sort of mental rest.

After sweeping away the ashes from the campfire and setting themselves off, no one was mentally ready to wake up. It seemed that one night of peace was such a drastic change in their environment they made it their natural habitat, but they were not animals, and they didn't belong in a world full of peace. Otherwise, there'd be no one left to help defend whatever peace there was. This was just another mountain Lynch would have to climb.

 

There was no other threat or danger along the road that day, and they arrived at the gates of Cloud Ruler Temple just before the crack of dusk. Samuel was so relieved to see this place again, and although he came back with more than just the shard, he still lost his Kodachi, and that hurt him just as much as his companions losing one of their own. Everything felt like a beautiful lie once they reached atop those stairs, knowing all they had been through to get there, and it still wasn't over. Now, to Rognar. Samuel led them through the main hall, into the war room past the library on the East Wing of the Temple. Rognar awaited them with his old smug smile that Samuel now just wanted to wipe from his face, but Lynch beat him to it. The moment he laid eyes on the High Elf, Lynch paced towards him, clenching his fists and took a good swing to his jaw, knocking him backwards onto the map table. The guards in the corner drew there swords and stepped out of the shadows, but Samuel lifted his arm and lowered it again, and they all simply stepped back, smiling. Seeing this being done to Rognar and it being done not by the Captain was a truly great sight to see. Especially when they were ordered to leave him be. The smile turned to a sour scowl.
'What are you doing you idiot?!' Rognar demanded, while Lynch raised his fist in a threat, but didn't proceed to throw any more punches.
'Because of your arrogance, one of our members, a sixteen year old teenager, died.' Lynch said, gritting his teeth, grabbing Rognar by the throat. The way he held it was very similar to that of the hooded Elf at the Fort. Samuel was about to tell him to back off, but Mayes put a hand on his chest and pulled him a look that basically said ?Let him be.?
'What in Oblivion are you talking about?! How am I to be held responsible for your efforts? You were the one leading the group, no?!' Lynch's grip on his throat tightened.
'If you knew he was going to get captured why didn't you just send Samuel with more than just himself? Why did you have to have me prove it? Answer me you bastard!' Lynch's anger rose, and the same red aura was now beginning to faintly come through his skin again, but only Mayes seemed to notice it.
'Lynch...' She began, but one angry look from Lynch, one cold stare with those blood red eyes, and she was silent again.
'You did this. You did this!' Lynch was about to crush his throat, he knew he could do it, he could feel how close his fingers were together as they clenched tighter into his throat. That was when Samuel finally stepped in, pulling out his sword and holding it to Lynch's throat, but he didn't care, and his grip never loosened.
'Lynch, let go!' Samuel shouted, and now the Blades in each corner drew their swords and stepped forward. Lynch looked deep into Rognar's eyes, and saw that he also regretted everything. Only he never had the intention. In his eyes he saw Arain, and that was what made him let go all of a sudden. His eyes turned back to blue almost instantly, and the aura went as quickly as it came. Panting for breath now, Samuel stepped back away from him, and so did the other Blades. Lynch pulled from his pocket the shard wrapped in linen and threw it to Rognars chest as he lay choking, gagging for air.
'Now what are we to do?' Lynch asked, trying to calm himself back down to a normal level. Rognar stood from the table and spoke with a gargling sound in the back of his throat.
'This shard is the only thing keeping Anov from getting out of that sword. However the only way to stop the oncoming forces from the Shadowland is to get him out and destroy him from the inside.'
'So you're telling us there's no way we can stop the Shadowland from coming here?' Erathor said, looking more worried and annoyed than he ever had done in his past 200 years of being... Well, existing. Living wasn't applicable up until he turned a Hybrid.
'What do you expect, it was supposed to be the end of the world last year, and we can't keep this up that much longer you know.' Rognar said his irritating smile back on his face.
'Right, well what's the next course of action; you're not answering the question.' Lynch said, crossing his arms, trying to keep as cool headed as possible but his frustration was slowly rising back to the surface the longer Rognar kept postponing his answer. Rognar sighed, and the serious look replaced his smug smile.
'First thing we need to do is ready ourselves for the portals. This means we need to reach out to the Arcane University. Don't worry your heads about travelling, we've already contacted them. Once they can, they will assist the Jarls of the cities by casting magical barriers. With the aid of the dragonfires now lit, they should have substantial amount of magicka, allowing them to shield each city from the reign of whatever it is that will come out of those sky portals.' He explained, pacing from one end of the room to the other, stopping to look at Lynch as he spoke.
'How do we even know these portals will be in the sky? What if they're like Oblivion Gates?' Erathor shuddered discretely, he knew what it was like to enter those gates. But he tried to block it out as much as possible.
'Because the realm of Oblivion is barred from Tamriel with the dragonfires lit again. This is no mere plane of Oblivion, it is an entire dimension in itself.' Rognar spoke, standing with his hands behind his back, his voice was now clear again and he spoke with utmost seriousness and formality now. 'This realm is beyond our comprehension, its power is far beyond that of any natural Daedric Princes. Whatever comes out of that portal is bound to destroy at least Cyrodil if not most of Tamriel itself. Our job is to simply close it as soon as it opens up to us.' He contained.
'And what about my power?' Lynch asked.
'What do you mean, your ability to choke someone or your innate behaviour towards killing things and getting yourself into stupid situations?' Now Lynch was getting very angry, but kept it all down. Before he could reply, gritting his teeth, Samuel stepped forward.
'At the Fort Lynch transformed into something powerful. Very powerful, in fact. He single headedly took down at least an entire battalion without so much as lifting a finger. And he grew wings, black ones. This red mist came around him as he moved off the ground.' Rognar seemed interested in this information.
'If I hadn't studied the Dremora for thirty years I'd say Lynch was a powerful Vampire, but I can instantly tell the difference from you and your half breed over there.' Rognar pointed at Erathor. Outraged at the remark, Rognar pointed a finger back.
'I've been alive for over two hundred years. I was a top murderer for the Dark Brotherhood, I've killed many of your kind both in their sleep and standing with weapons in their hand. I'm no ?half breed?, Elf. I am a Hybrid. I breathe, eat and I walk in sunlight. What else do you think allowed me to get here before night, magic? You must be deluded.' And on that note Rognar fell silent, with no other words to say, the only voices that could be heard were mumbles from the Blades in the corners, yet the only ones who could actually hear what they were saying were Mayes and Erathor with their sharp Vampiric hearing.
'Say what you will like, I mean no harm to any of you. My companion and I feed from animals. You may sleep easy, and with your necks out.' He continued before laughing cheerfully.
'Either way, I'm starting to think Lynch may have some sort of Dremoric heritage. This is starting to sound a lot like the story of Anov, the Demi-Prince. Despite the fact you're not that much of a hero, you certainly were raised by one. And your Father was one of our best Captains, if not the. I know you won't take offence to me saying that, Samuel. He was the one that taught you.' Said Rognar, looking to Samuel who waved his hand and said
'None taken, it's all true. He was a fearsome battler. Everything I know I was taught from that man. I wouldn't be surprised if he was some sort of Daedric Lord, ahaha.' Lynch looked to him with a smile.
'You were taught from my Father?' He said.
'From holding a sword to using it.' Samuel replied. Lynch's smile widened, it's good to know his Father didn't die without a memory left behind. But the pressure of Lynch living up to it was just increasingly being exerted.
'The fact still remains that once those portals open, we'll need to get inside of them. Correction, you will need to get inside of them.' Rognar said, his fingers now raised at Lynch and his party.
'You mean we won't have any support from the Blades?' Mayes said, turning to Samuel and back to Rognar.
'We'll have enough trouble defending the Temple from total destruction. It'll be up to you to get in there and find a way to close the portals. To do this, you will need to reattach the shard to the sword and destroy it entirely.' Rognar said.
'Which we will do how?' Samuel asked.
'You're going with them, Renault?' Rognar asked.
'Captain Renault to you, Rognar. And yes, I am.' Samuel looked to Lynch and nodded.
'Very well, Captain. Your funeral will be grand, I assure you. No, we don't know how to destroy it, we just assume that's the way to go. I don't have all the answers you know, we just have books to go off of here. It's a land of myth come true.'
'Is that all you have?' Lynch was crestfallen once again. Not only did he not know how to get into the portals, he didn't know how to close them. He may not even get out of them alive.
'For now, yes. I'll let you know if anything changes.' Rognar said.
'Thank you, Rognar. Lynch, if you wish, I'll show you to the Barracks where you and your companions can get some well earned rest.' Samuel said, dismissing Rognar and putting a hand on Lynch's shoulder. Lynch nodded, and they all turned and walked out of the War Room without a parting comment from Rognar. Walking through the East Wing to the main hall and the West Wing, they came to the Barracks that was almost empty, asides from a Blades soldier in the corner reading.
'Pick a bedroll, Mayes, if you wish, you may have my bed. I won't be needing any sleep for now, and I understand you were recently injured and you have issues sleeping at night.' Mayes nodded in agreement and said
'Thank you Samuel, where is it?'
'Upstairs and to the left, the door slides open. Is that okay with you, Lynch?' Samuel replied, widening his eyes at Lynch.
'Of course, she needs it more than I do. Erathor, you okay with that?'
'Yes, of course I am, she deserves it.'
'Well alright then, I'll show you upstairs, you two get some sleep, I'll awake you in the morning for Breakfast.' Samuel said before following Mayes up the stairs, by now the solider in the corner put down her book and exited into the courtyard. Erathor and Lynch chose neighbouring bedrolls and undressed into their underwear, climbing into them. Neither of them had had a good nights sleep for a while, and the soft touch of the bedroll was enough to compensate for the lack of padding against the floorboards.

 

The night went by slowly, and many other Blades members joined Lynch and Erathor in rest, but there was still many out on guard, watching the landscapes the same way Samuel liked to. That was when the Barracks door opened and a watchman awoke Lynch by shaking him.
'Deep apologies for awaking you, Sir Strike. But there's a hooded man at the gate with a horse, he tells the tower guard he seeks your audience. He looked to be an Imperial.' Of course, it was the Brotherhood member with his steed. Why it hadn't reached him before was beyond Lynch, but this was good timing at least. Lynch kept some valuable things on that horse. He hurried out of his roll and put on his padded leather curiass. He stepped out into the blistering cold of the night, the cold he had never felt before now. Up near the mountains was a harsh place to be, especially on the night guard. Even all of that resistance he made his body do through the arcane pool wasn't enough to withstand the wind and snow that came down onto him now. Still, he came down the stairs to find the gates open and his horse happy to see him again, but no hooded figure. He found a note on the saddle that read


'Lynch,
I trust my Blade will have served you well for you to be reading this message. The Sanctuary is always at your disposal, as long as you hold up your end of fate.
Sithis guide your blade.
- Moi.'

Lynch felt happy warmth as he read the message, petting his horse and stroking its mane. He led it up the stairs and felt sympathy for it as he left it inside the haystack where all Blades horses fed. At least he wouldn't be freezing, Lynch thought, and proceeded back into the Barracks. Opening the door, the quietness of the room was disturbed by the howling wind, but not enough to wake anyone up. As Lynch was quietly creeping back to his bedroll, from the corner of his eye he saw Mayes stood at the bottom of the staircase.
'Oh, Mayes. How are you sleeping?' Lynch said quietly to her.
'I can't, for once. But at least the stiffness is gone, mostly.' She replied in almost a whisper. 'I've been dreaming, and I don't like what I see. It... It's almost like I see the same things as the Boy did... I know that sounds crazy, but after all this, define crazy, right?' She continued, looking down at the floor and holding her arm.
'I never expected to be apart of this, Mayes. All I ever knew was to shut up, do my job and get paid. If I wasn't trekking around for Arain I was wasting away my Septims in the King and Queen Hotel on the Market District, just waiting for another job to come my way. I used to steal for the Thieves Guild, and that was a good job for a while, but eventually it turned violent and I ended up coming to the Dark Brotherhood.' He chuckled, 'you know, you and Erathor are the two most caring members of the Brotherhood I ever met. It makes me think, what if some Dremora felt, too? Not all evil may actually be evil, and your dreams may not be that bad.' He sat on top of his bedroll, not yet climbing into it.
'You've led such an interesting life, it seems.' She said, staring at him.
'So you may think, but it gets very repetitive. The same way killing does.'
'I never got used to it.' Mayes said, lowering her head again.
'Neither have I, Mayes. But now it seems like a way of life. We set our intentions to build a peaceful world, but all we're really doing is destroying what we build.' Lynch now stood up and reached for his knapsack that he retrieved from the horse. From it, he pulled a large sack of gold that took up most of the space in the bag. He walked over to Mayes and placed it into her unresisting hand.
'I've been thinking about those portals. And if need be, I might be the only one able to fly in there. I think. So if I don't come out, I want you to take this money and get yourself an estate. There's enough behind my name to last you longer than you can imagine, and you're going to live forever.' He said, as his head moved in dangerously close to hers.
'Oh Lynch..' She swooned as she pushed his bag into his chest, but Lynch took her hand and pleaded for her to take it. She looked away for a moment, and Lynch cupped her chin in his fingers and turned her head towards him again. Lynch was a few feet taller than Mayes, and she had to go onto her toes to raise herself for a kiss. It was a short kiss, and Lynch barely moved his lips towards hers, but once she came back to the floor and looked into his yellow eyes with such beauty and passion, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her softly.

Mayes awoke in the morning to find her bed empty, only the soft warm daylight sun to comfort her as she stretched. She could understand what Samuel meant when he said that his bed was well deserved, she loved what sleep she got after Lynch was brought upstairs. She wondered, as she dressed herself, how the day to come would go if she felt something for Lynch. Would she be attached, the one thing she was always taught not to be? Or would she simply treat this as a one night thing, and think of Lynch's abandonment in the morning as a sign of something, be it regret, or something else? Never before had she felt something compassionate for someone outside of the Brotherhood, she learnt as she took on contracts that many of Tamriel's inhabitants were evil, cynical and above all untrustworthy bastards. But those were only the people she killed, she never once got an opportunity to interact with any of the nicer people, and she by now knew Lynch was definitely a good person, despite any of his past. For the majority of her life, Erathor was her only friend growing up, and she became very dependant and he had became equally as attached. Not in love, but in something that would resemble the one thing neither of them had, a true family. How would he feel about Lynch and her? By now he surely must trust him completely. Questions so small but unanswered, and it hurt her. But the worst one kept itself in the back of her mind; was this love?

Lynch clashed steel in the frosty warm morning, feeling the bitter snow bite at him, but also relaxing into the radiant sun. The sky was cloudless, and sparks flew at the collision of Samuel and Lynch dancing with swords, showing valiance as they composed the music of battle. But not just sparring, this was real live adrenaline fuelled combat, but it was not fuelled by anger or frustration, just a simple friendly match. Each of Samuel's strikes were met with either a parry or the air as he avoided the katana's quickfire swings. It was a light blade, but the strength of Lynch's blade along with its extremely low weight outmatched size. Finally seeing a weak point in Lynch's stance, he swung for the leg, but Lynch lept from the ground and tapped a foot off of Samuel's shoulder, landing on the other side with a dagger to his back.
'Checkmate.' Lynch said, panting.
'That was an incredible feat of acrobatic movement. How did you manage to get so high?!' Samuel said, picking himself up and shaking his opponent's hand.
'If something dangerous comes at you, avoid it.' Lynch replied, thinking of how the Boy caught the flying arrow.
'A simple strategy, well done my friend. Next time I won't let up.' Samuel chuckled.
'My Father taught your Mother. Just think about that.' Lynch too laughed along, now just finding the air to maintain a normal breathing rate.
'Hehe, and I were taught by both of them. But still, not even the mightiest of Blades can outmatch that of a Hero. Especially not the son of a Captain who was also raised by one.'
'You're a skilled opponent, my friend. I look forward to our next match.' Lynch said, smiling and standing up straight to salute Samuel.
'Saluting me?'
'You're the Captain in this Temple.'
'And you've just beat the Captain.'
'Next up, the Daedric Prince of Nightmares.' Lynch said, chuckling again.
'We'll find a way, Lynch. We have to.' As they were just about to walk into the Main Hall to join the others for breakfast, Mayes appeared fully dressed in her usual armour, looking at Lynch with a look Lynch could only describe as sorrow.
'Good morning Mayes. Join us for breakfast?' Samuel asked, just about to open the hall doors.
'Thank you, Samuel that would be great.' She said, a smile creeping back up on her face. Lynch followed him in and Mayes caught up to his side.
'How are you, Mayes?' He asked.
'I'm fine, thank you, how about you?' Her hand slowly reached to his, and their fingers intertwined like cobweb. He didn't pull his hand back, he simply let it be and squeezed her hand for comfort.
'I slept better than I have done in a long time.' He replied, taking a seat at the quiet breakfast table. There was mead, cheese, wine and many various meats and fruit spread across the wooden surface. They each sat down and filled their plates, starting from the fruit and washing their meats down with the strawberry wine, made from the vineyards along Skingrad, the city renowned for its famous fine wines and grapes. Their hands only split for their food, and after they stood from the table, thanked the caterers and Samuel, they went through separate doors, Mayes through to the courtyard and Lynch into the library.

 

14

Meanwhile, Erathor was just now dressing himself and stretching out from the discomfort of the unpadded bedroll. A tight pain was felt with every movement of his joints, but it wasn't where he slept in which he placed the blame, it was his unrest many nights beforehand. Sleeping as a Vampire was simple and comforting, he could rest on a stone bed or in a coffin, which most Vampires took as tradition, and he would wake freshly in the morning. But being a Lycan brought back the discomforts of being mortal, such as feeling the cold, feeling pain and misery. Vampires had the ability to block out all emotion completely, their hearts stopped beating long ago, and if they didn't want it to, no amount of affection to or fro anything could restart it. But now his heart would beat, his breath could be felt and the pleasure of a warm duvet wasn't enough to make him feel like being a Hybrid was simply a mistake. There was always the idea of one part of him suddenly taking over, be it burning in the sunlight or turning into a bloodthirsty beast with no other way of turning back, but in the name of science and all things magic, the testing was worth it. He sometimes would worry about Mayes more than himself. He was a Vampire by nature, he had no blood inside of him to be tainted. But to break a Lycan's immunity to Sanguinis Vampiris was to break the boundaries of nature, and perhaps his involvement in this scheme, no matter how many times he would tell himself it was all just a coincidence, perhaps this was his punishment from nature. He thought of it all through the nights he had sat up in the trees without sleep, and just now as he stepped into the cold breeze did the regrets come back into his mind again. He needed something to get his mind off of things, so he thought about not the cold, but what he should do to occupy himself. The city of Bruma was about an hours walk away, but the trip would be short and a bore. The areas around it, however, were for a natural born hunter like Erathor, packed with game waiting to be taken to the void.

He took Lynch's long hunting bow from the weapon stacks and slung a quiver around him, pulling his hood over his head he once again stepped out into the daylight, feeling it nip more than the cold did. But the storm was something he could weather. He stretched once more, and felt his power course and flow around his body, a mixture of feral prowess and Vampiric speed and grace. He turned on his heels, ran forward at a mighty pace and under the amazed eyes of the courtyard guards watching him., glided over the battlement wall and fell an extremely steep distance to the snow blanketed mountainside and landed like a cat, making the sound of a pin dropping from the sky. The flur of speed came gloriously quickly, and he shot off into the forest, sniffing out any life around. Taking off of the ground and jumping straight into a treetop, he didn't think he could have felt more balanced and sharp as he did landing from each branch.

He kept moving, his heart beating faster with each step, oh his breathing sped up and for once he loved it. He tore through the wilderness searching for prey like the ultimate killer, and with a calm pause, he caught the aroma of blood lingering somewhere to the east. He took off again, following the trail, feeling the fear of the deer he stalked as he drew close enough to see it through the trees, its life aura gleaming into his eyes. Pouncing, he dove through the air like a cat, and landed onto its back with his dagger unsheathed. It kicked around and for a moment his bearings were thrown off, but he picked them up and steadied his hands, plunging the knife into its neck and watching its warm blood dribble and spill out of the cut. The deer fell with him on top of it, but he wasn't finished there, he turned around with his nose as it caught another smell. He saw a second deer now trying to make for the protection of the trees, not that they would help. An arrow was drawn from the quiver and strung, pulled back and shot from the hunting bow, without even a second of lining his aim accurately, but he didn't need to, he was an adept marksman even without his fine senses. The arrow skimmed past the bark of a few trees and hit the deer, although he wasn't sure where, he heard a cry of pain echo and bounce from tree to tree. He walked to it and pulled the arrow from the lower side of its neck, seeing a clean bit of fur waiting to be skinned. He pulled the dagger again and began to carve away. A while later, he pulled the carcass to one side and pulled from it a fresh hide he would later be able to clean and wear. A perfect trophy for his first true experience as a Hybrid hunter.
The day was now pressing on, and as Erathor continued his hunting throughout the woods, the Temple was quiet and still. The walls were attacked with the mountain cold, but inside the fires raged and kept the place warm. Mayes was eating, sitting by the grand fire. While through the adjacent doors in the library, the flickering of the fire sounded like the flickering of pages, as Lynch read more into the book of Anov that Erathor kept and read through it carefully.


'Page 51
?Weeping silently did Meridium, as he lay on the floor. The shadows now bound him to a life no more. His heart was empty, his eyes now blind. His mind was broken and peace, he could not find. Not in the Shadowland, the realm of all evil that die. Not in the Shadowland, the realm of the Lions with no pride. Not in this place, the place of all that shouldn't be. Not in the Shadowland, my home to be.?
- An extract from Anov's diary as he watched Meridium's human form suffer in the darkness.'

To think of Meridium as a mere human was a comforting placebo, but alas, a Daedric Lord could not be mistaken for such a being. He wondered what Meridium would have been like as a human, he was a member of the Blades, supposedly. If he was, would they have any record of him here? He got up out of his seat as the thought dawned upon him and he scoured the shelves. Mayes came through, having just finished her meal, and looked around for Lynch. He saw her when he stood from his crouch and blew a bit of dust from the cover of a book he found titled 'The Old Pride.' On it was a picture of a Lion surrounded by swords dug into the ground. He smiled at her and they sat. He opened to the first few pages, and together they searched through the book for any relative information to Meridium, as not all the book was about him. In fact, hardly any of it was. The book was written by a member of The Pride, a now extinct organisation that sought to eradicate all things that were not of natural being, which is where the Vigilants of Stendarr originated. The Lion was said to have represented the honour and responsibility that all humanoid races bore upon birth, the responsibility of keeping Tamriel cleansed of all things threatening the dominance of Humans and Elves and Khajiit and Argonians alike. The only page that made mention of Meridium was Page 156, paragraph four, line three.

'And on the day the Pride met the Blade, the head of the Lion was torn off by the snapping jaws of the Dragon's fury. Meridium, the old leader of the pack, the one who promised peace and prosperity through hard work and dedication to cause, became the one to scatter his own friends. He was not the only one to take up the chance, though. Some others of the Pride took it as an opportunity to better apply themselves into cleansing the lands, while most such as myself saw them as traitors joining up for the gold.'

It was clear to Lynch now that Meridium was the leader of this organisation, and therefore his reputation was what got him the offer to join the ranks of the Knight Brothers and Sisters.
'What do you make of it?' Mayes asked.
'I think that Meridium was once a good man, and he joined the Blades with good intentions. Not the type this man would describe. This was a good time back, however, so I wouldn't have known what things were like back four hundred years ago.'
'I see. And do you think he was always born to be a Dragon?' She asked another question while she reread and turned another page.
'I think he was transformed by some sort of Prince.' He answered.
'What do you mean?'
'I mean, what if the Blades angered the Daedra many years back, and in return they made their top dragon slayer into something that he was supposed to hate?'
'I see where you're coming from. But in all honesty I think that he was born to be that way. It would be a more logical reason, and it would explain your... Stature.' She went quietly at the end of her sentence, but Lynch disregarded her and acquired more information as well as questions.
'The Pride was made out to be such bastards to the Daedra, exterminating any of their worshippers, knocking down their shrines and spitting on the thought of their existence. And Meridium was at the head of it all. They both make sense in all reality.' She sighed and hugged him softly, whispering into his ear
'Come to bed with me, Lynch.' He turned to her, unpleased and coldly replied with
'It's broad daylight. There's still work to do, Mayes.' And the lights in her eyes were shot out with brutal force. Her arms left him and she stood from the table and left the room. He didn't care, he didn't have anything inside for her. Or at least, that's what he always told himself. He knew he did, but he tried not to. Just in case he lost her, too.
15




Days passed. The world turned slowly, the nights grew substantially colder, and the days did, too. No contact, they slept at different times, they didn't speak to each other. Lynch cried himself to sleep, Erathor continued hunting, Mayes read more and more, Samuel went back to staring into the world, and he could have sworn it was staring back to him. They had no idea when it would hit, they just knew it would. But even still, day after day, the entire place remained startlingly loud and busy.

The Temple was not the only place around that was usually bustling with activity, but was now quiet; The Imperial City's Waterfront was on a daily basis teeming with activity, merchant ships and frigates would dock up and take their wares to the Market District. Only today was it an opportunity for the Imperial Legion to take a rest from their average patrol and serve routine, and an even better opportunity for Oliver Tanvery to slip his fingers into whatever passed him and pull out the gold he needed to buy more mead. A charismatic person by nature, he always had his way with the local tavern keepers that constantly chewed at him for owed gold, but if he ever got himself into a desperate spot, he could always fight. Something he was very good at. So was his friend, an Orc named Hooks, a brute of a character with a figure like a demon, whom Oliver also owed many things, but they were not of material value. Once a member of Cyrodil's famous Fighter's Guild, Hooks had plucked Oliver straight from fending off muggers in the alleyways of the Waterfront where he would frequently scrounge around for enough to get him by, to duelling with armed men using nothing but his bare fists. It was ten years ago that he left that Guild, and now aged 30, the prime of his life was going by slowly. As did the day, now turning to night.

The Waterfront's Inn was in a boat docked 24/7 in port, chained by metal to the pier and open all day and all night to some of the less respectable members of society. Among them was Oliver, sat in the corner table shrouded by darkness. Taking a swig of wine, cheap wine that tasted like boiled urine, but still wine, he slowly consumed the bottle and then switched from the red bottle to his skooma that he kept hidden in a pouch underneath his dagger inside of his cloak. He knew it harmed him, but what did he care, life in the Waterfront meant very little if it were not anything at all. He had absolutely nothing left to live for, and this was made apparent through how little respect he gave to those around him. He couldn't care if he wound up being faced down by a knife, and there were times where he wished that's where he was. He drank solemnly, scowling at the bartender whenever he pulled him a concerned glance. He only looked away from the table, lit dimly by a single candle, to see who came through the door as they banged against the walls when they opened, when in came the one better known as Rickaby. Oh, Oliver sought her company so desperately, she was the only person in the world that could make him feel like things were going to look up from there. He longed for her to feel as he did, and whenever he wasn't stealing more money for food or selling food for mead, he was numbing himself with skooma and trying to forget the bad things he had done to land himself there in the first place. And ninety percent of the time he did that, whenever Rickaby came to comfort him, everything would just go away. All the bad things and nightmares disappeared. Indeed, Oliver was a sorrowful and solitary person, Hooks had long since forsaken hope of changing him back, he had no parents to speak of, and sometimes it was very hard for him to find the strength to wake up. But he did, he kept his optimism throughout his life and it had served him very well.

 

A strong man with a dark past was a description that fit Oliver better than typical drunkard lowlife. Rickaby silenced the murmuring voices around the Inn, wearing leather armour and a sword at her hip. She nodded at the Innkeeper who smiled back at her, and walked to sit in front of Oliver, who was now hiding the skooma back into his pouch. She smiled her same beautiful smile at him, and her golden blonde hair ran so smoothly to the table as she sat.
'How are you doing, Tanvery?' She said in a voice so sweet.
'I'm fine. Days go on.' He replied, ceasing to make eye contact.
'Well, I have good news, I got you a job.' She said, smile widening.
'You got me a what?' He now looked concerning at her, dropping his brows.
'Yes, a job. Not a permanent one, but one I think you will enjoy.' Oliver sighed and turned away again.
'For the last time, Rickaby, I'm not interested in the Thieves Guild. It's ba-'
'It's not the Thieves Guild we're going to, it's the Hero's Sanctuary.' She leaned back and crossed her arms while Oliver looked at her with narrow eyes and a confused expression. Both the fact that Rickaby was going with him and the fact that the Hero's Guild didn't exist in Cyrodil anymore baffled him.
'Rumours were circulating that you'd lost your mind, Rickaby. What'll it be next, Giants prowling the Bruma Mountains? The Blades asking for professional aid?' He jested as he raised the wine to his lips.
'I'm not joking here. I've been contacted by an old Hero, her name is Arain.'
'Well then your contact is false and using a name like that should have made you kill her there and then. Disrespecting the Heroes Guild is to disrespect us. The Fighters should have taught yo-'
'You think I wouldn't know a liar from a fool?' She asked, her smile turned into a scornful look and he felt stabbed by it. Returning the look, a moment of silence and a swig of wine later he put the bottle down once more and said
'Where are we to go?'
'That's more like it. We head for Anvil, where there Moi will take us to the Library Arcanum.' That name rang bells in his mind, though he didn't know why.
'When do we leave?' He asked, going to take another drink, but Rickaby snatched the bottle from his hands and set it aside her.
'In the morning. So rest.'
'You know sleeping is difficult for me unless I have that.'
'You'll be going without it for a while yet, so I suggest you rework your body clock. Besides, it smells like burnt piss. I don't see why you'd want it.'
'I want it because without it I don't stop thinking about- you know what? Never mind.' The words wanted, they were pushing themselves out of his mouth, but they just would not come. Rickaby shook her head and tossed him the bottle, she then stood and threw a few Septims onto the table.
'Buy yourself another, if that's the case.' And walked out. Oliver sat and stared at them for a moment, before taking the wine and going to take another sip. But he hesitated and instead he set it down and kept looking at it next to the coins. He took the coins in his hand and in the other, the wine. He stood up from his shrewd and dark corner and stumbled drunkenly out of the doors, not caring to face the numerous laughs that followed him out the door.

He grasped the neck of the bottle so tightly it begun to crack, but he did not care. He came out of the Inn and walked along the pier some time until he reached the seafront bay. He stood staring out to the moonlight shimmering across the vast sea, and with a flurry of emotion building inside of him, threw the bottle in his hand far out, letting out an angry cry. A tear formed in the corner of his eye, but he wiped it away and went to turn back into the Inn. The bottle went afloat into the night, and so did all of Oliver's thoughts as he sat at that table and passed out a while later.

A pounding head and bits of ale and cheese stuck in his unkempt stubble was all he had to wake up to, as he picked himself up off of the ground. No amount of healing potions in Tamriel could flush it out of his system. The Innkeeper knew better than to tempt fate and disturb him, and Oliver knew that he could get away with staying on the boat as long as he didn't cause any more trouble than he already did, else the Orc bouncer would throw him out. The bouncer did not interfere with Oliver's sleeping pattern either, unless he absolutely had do, else he was the one who wound up on the floor to wake at the crack of dawn. He felt strange, he usually felt the need to vomit, but now all he wanted to do was drink water. Not that he was dehydrated, far from it, in fact. But water always helped sober him up, as much as an average healing potion would have. The fresh air felt rejuvenating and he walked out of the doors with deep breaths. For the first time in a long time he the need to prepare himself for something he couldn't handle. He prepared for himself. Keeping his drink in check was relatively easy, most of the time. He knew he didn't really need it unless he couldn't sleep or he needed to drown out the day before him. But it wasn't that he was worrying about, it was his emotions that he needed to keep under control, else they spiral downwards into the point where he just wanted to turn back.

A smell of sour milk flooded the air, and it was once more inducing the vomit in his throat. He wandered along the bay aimlessly, leaning onto a barrel for support, he felt sober but tired, when along from behind him came Rickaby, who now put a hand on his shoulder.
'How much did you drink?'
'Three bottles. Then you came.'
'How many after?'
'None.' Her face widened.
'You are kidding me.' She said.
'Do you want to` smell my breath?' He said.
'Not really, no. Anyways, the day is young, our contact has ordered us transport.'
'So you're sure he's reliable?' He said, 'because I've came across some dodgers in my time. An-' she cut him off again, a habit she continued to show.
'First, it's the Queen of Frost. Second, I know who I talk to. Third, Hooks is coming along. Just in case, for your sake, this is a stitch.' She waited for a reply, but Oliver couldn't think of anything else to say. They both knew he owed her more than she could list, and that he really had no choice but to go with her, besides, he would have went simply to be by her side. Oh yes, ever since the day they met in the Leyawiin Fighter's Guild. They left together as firm friends with their ability to fight with the intent to travel the lands, he longed to once more be able to walk by her side. Maybe this was his chance at redemption. He was desperately and irrevocably in love with her, and there was next to nothing he could do about it.

He'd be lying if he said he felt fine as they left, his stomach kept churning, his heart felt swollen and inside his chest his breathing pattern deteriorated into random gasps of air in between each step. It would have been all but too soon that he started travelling again. The only walking he ever did was stumbling around the Imperial City, worming through the social ladders and in and out of everyone else's business. It was only those that held enough of Oliver for him to call them close that knew his tricks and knew how to slip through his charismatic rouse. Oliver was a renowned liar and trouble maker throughout the City, though only in the Waterfront and the Market District.

He struggled with moving like he used to do. It wasn't as much of a blur in his youth, like all Fighters, he was taught to be able to move with his body and not just his feet. It was drilled into him to be able to simply dance around a battleground. He could remember the days he would spend in the courtyard of the Guild on a fresh morning, he was young, just Seventeen, and with a blade in his hands he would carve away at targets. Oh the sweet serenity of the morning sun. If only he felt the same way about it now, as he dragged his feet alongside Rickaby.

He wasn't debilitated, just very tired. The places outside the walls felt familiar to him. She turned and she looked with a devilish grin, she led him along the waterfront bay, all the way to the far end of the water.
'The stables are through the City, Rickaby.'
'We're not taking a horse, Oliver.' She smiled at him as she pointed to the ship on the end, a wooden vessel with huge sails, and a rather peculiar emblem painted onto them. Without any questions, she led him onto the ship, and with a command from the Captain, whom Rickaby exchanged brief conversation, the ship raised anchor and was pulling out of port within moments.

Instantly, Oliver felt nauseated by the rocking of the boat, waves crashed at the sides and the need to vomit took over him. He dizzily fumbled to the railing and leant over; puke instantly pouring from his mouth. A few tankards full worth later; he laughed and stood back up, taking care to wipe his mouth with his sleeve. He was finally starting to feel the sensation of being alive. And it made him happy. He watched as they passed the skyline, looking back at the glorious city so far behind them now as it faded out of sight. Moi was right, the boat was fast. Luckily, it didn't take long for him to feel back in the game, his head was clearing and the horizon wasn't so much a limit as it had been once before. His breath could use a changing, but other than that he felt nothing more or less than true infinity.

 

He hadn't seen Hooks on the ship, perhaps he was already in Anvil. Or maybe just below deck, either way he wasn't looking forward to facing him one more. Oliver looked around, and saw the entrance to what looked to be the cabins. He hoisted himself out of his lean and dragged his feet across the wooden floor. He navigated through the cabins to his own, crashed down onto the wooden cot. His eyes were heavy, and he could have honestly fallen asleep whilst walking.
As the ship moved by, miles away, over mountains and cities, Rognar paced the corridors, shuffling his feet. He stopped to ask a soldier standing in the Main Hall where Samuel was, and he was told to be in the Armoury with Lynch. Rognar had not stepped foot in the Armoury for years, and for a reason; it had a coppery, musky smell that leaked through the Library whenever the door was opened. This displeased him.

Nonetheless, he paced back off to the door that lead to the Armoury and turned the handle, blocking his nose. Samuel and Lynch were exchanging idle chatter about the quality of steel the Blades were provided with, and how Samuel was taught about the Combat Triangle.
'We have an issue that requires your immediate attention, Gentlemen.' Rognar said, trying not to take in any of the foul smells that filled the room.
'What is it?' Lynch asked, turning on his seat.
'Our prophet friend has discovered another chosen child. Like the Boy you came here with, and every one before that.' He replied, letting out a deep exhale and a sharp, sudden inhale through the nose. Lynch stood as he said
'Where is he?'
'We have him on a boat with one of Arain's henchmen.' Probably Rognar, Lynch thought.
'Are they going to Anvil?' Samuel asked.
'Indeed, he's escorted by two of the best the Fighter's Guild had to offer us.'
'Good, so what do you want us to do about it?' Samuel asked again.
'Get yourselves ready.' Replied Rognar, turning out the door as quick as he could.
'H- Hold-..' Lynch stuttered for words, unable to stop Rognar from walking out.
'Get ready for what?' Samuel asked.
'From what I can tell, it's either we're going to Anvil soon, or they're coming to us.' Lynch replied, yawning.
'Still, a little extra detail would have been greatly appreciated. Y'know, everything intricate is still a detail. I've learnt this from experience. Every bit of knowledge you have could potentially save you from being sheep to a wolves? den. Remember that.' 'Lynch Strike. Wood Elf murderer, soldier, brother and friend.' Samuel also cracked a smile. As did Lynch, it was good to know Samuel thought of him as a brother. As the feeling was mutual.

16

The gentle, morning breeze rocked the sails back and forth, as the ship slid into port, slowly. Oliver sat staring into the daylight as it shone through the cabin window. It looked beautiful, the lighting of the room seemed so warm, so comforting. Not even the voices outside could disturb him now. He smiled, as he did when he felt he was in a place where he felt safe, and let the last remainders of whatever sunlight that came through from behind the clouds daze him. Feeling a cold emptiness as the clouds covered it back up, and the room was once again dim. What made him feel so alone, he wondered. The voices now rose to a whisper in the back of his mind. The feeling came rushing back to him, of nausea and of uncertain anxiety, and as he stood back up again, he could have sworn that's all he was capable of feeling.

A rhythmic knock came from the door, and Oliver turned from the window view to open it. There stood Hooks, his old friend. A time worn grin splashed across his face, the one Oliver resented so.
'We're here, old friend.' He said.
'How long has it been, Hooks?'
'Too long.' Replied the Orc.
'Evidently not long enough.' Oliver looked to the ground as he spoke, not wanting to look into Hooks' face that then twisted appropriately to the comeback.
'And why is that?' Hooks asked, brows lowered, tone deepening. Oliver raised his head to look him in the eye, a twinkle of hatred sparked as he said said,
'You still think of me as your friend.'
A provoked silence followed, Oliver waited for a reply, but the words Hooks wanted to say were caught up and trapped in the middle of his throat. Oliver tutted as he brushed past, making his way up to the deck. The sunlight seemed less dizzying to be under, the sea wasn't as poisonous to his senses and Rickaby looked more pleased to see him than previously. She didn't approach him, just smiled, and turned her head back to watch as the boat pulled into port.

Moments later, the boardwalk was dropped, and they were each free to leave the ship. Having his feet on solid land felt alien, and the fear of falling into the world was constant. Rickaby led the trio off of the boat, and they entered through the City gates into Anvil. Anvil was much smaller than the Imperial City, as it, like most other City's in Cyrodil, only consisted of one or two quarters. Oliver felt certain unease, as the locals pulled him glares with every passing movement. They came to the main gates out of the City and as they opened, a group of Redguards, grouped in four, entered in their place. The group seemed shifty, and they eyed Oliver and Rickaby up in a very eerie way, but an angry glare from the giant that was Hooks sent them walking in a much quicker pace.

They approached the stables, where there stood Moi. His hands grimly crossed behind his back, and his glare just as harrowing. Indeed, to most of his inner circle, he felt comfortable in showing his joyous, emotion filled side. But to others, he was as cold as ice to the touch of fur, and the hiss in his voice.
'This is him?' Moi asked, looking directly to Rickaby.
'Indeed. As agreed.'
Moi looked Oliver up and down, and after turning his nose up and lowering his brows, he finally replied
'Arain orders some strange things, I tell you. Moi does not like being toyed with.'
'And you think you're being played in any way, Speaker?' She asked. Moi cackled.
'Of course not, if I was, I'd have detected even the slightest bit of foul play and murdered you where you stood.' Hooks stepped forward in anger opening his mouth to say something, but Moi interrupted him before he even begun to speak. 'And don't think you scare me either, Orc. I've faced plenty of things twice your size and thrice as intelligent. If you would like to test yourself, it's only Oliver I require to be alive. Keep that in mind.' And now it was Hooks' turn to stay silent. 'Now, if there are no other issues that need to be trifled over, I assume you're ready to leave?
'As always, Moi.' Rickaby said, mounting her horse of choice. Oliver shook his head, sighing lightly and climbing onto his steed.

 

17

Far too long did it feel, the feeling of constant unawareness. Like there was some, as Samuel would have called it; intricate detail left unexplained to him. He hadn't seen Mayes for a while now, some said she too, spent her days out preparing in the woods with Erathor. Teaching him the ways of the Hunter. Lynch was glad to have had these people around him, his quest would have been futile if otherwise.
Still, all of this conspiracy. Almost like someone was keeping something from him. Or, in that case, everyone around him was keeping something from him, and he didn't like it. Not one bit.

Lynch stood tall and ready, bearing his twin blades, his blade of Woe concealed behind him. He charged his sparring partner, a young Blades member, and struck his torso. His partner reacted very quickly, almost dashing completely out of his reach, taking an equally as swift swing at his Dagger. Alas, Lynch had presumed his move seconds before he made it, and instead pivoted in his stance, sweeping for his partners leg as he jumped back from Lynch. He fell like an apple to the concrete, making a thud as his armour clacked from the ground. Lynch stood, grinning, as three more Blades members surrounded him, closing in. Lynch darted forward, dodging the stab of a blade, again pivoting with Dagger in hand, striking the back of the first targets neck with the hilt of his blade. He fell unconscious, and Lynch quickly split his footing, jumping off of the man's unconscious body. Five feet into the air, he landed down on the second Blade, delivering a dangerously close knockout punch to the bridge of his prey's nose. He turned his attention, finally, to the last remaining member, who was by now thrusting his sword downwards to Lynch as he crouched. Lynch was almost like the wind, sweeping himself up off of the ground and almost instantaneously moved behind the man, Dagger to neck. Oh, but it was all too easy for Lynch.

He was a predator, rapture, he was a killer. A bloody good one at that. The bells in his dreads bounced with each step, still making nary a whisper. The Blades that got up from the ground payed due respect to Lynch and his Combat skills, and Lynch nodded modestly in return. He was no master, but he was as skilled as any other disciple of a Hero. Then, as Lynch turned around, the brisk cold air almost swallowed him whole. He felt empty, lifeless, like a spectre. There stood Mayes, with her possessions strapped around her torso.
'We are to leave the Temple with Samuel and Rognar soon. We are meeting Arain. The time is coming close, Lynch. I hope to God you are ready.'
'And what of the group coming from Anvil?' He asked.
'They are to meet us there. I'll meet you with the others down by the Gate, a Knight Brother is rounding up Steeds for us. Half an hour.' And without another word, or a chance to let Lynch speak, she turned and walked away. Exasperating, he walked out of the courtyard and into the West Wing.
After collecting all of his gear, he tidily placed it all into his bags. Fear ran through his heart. Where he was going from here was all a mystery to him, but there was one thing for sure. At the very back of his mind, the overshadowing weight on his shoulders was all being simply lifted away, and for this reason, he knew he couldn't wait to find out.
'This could be it.' Erathor said, coming from behind him.
'You really think so? We're going to use this shard and open this portal?' Said Lynch, continuing to pack his things.
'I don't know, Lynch. But I have a bad feeling about it.'
'I've had a bad feeling ever since we left the Sanctuary.' Lynch looked to Erathor now. 'All I've had is a bad feeling.' Erathor had little to say to Lynch, but the look he gave him shown he understood.
Hours passed, and everyone had assembled finally to the gate. Rognar, Mayes, Erathor, Samuel and Rognar. They each mounted their horses and began to trot off down the road past Bruma.
A dark red cloud was setting over the world.

Dusk drew itself along the world, and the clouds blocked out the sky. Rain lashed out from on high. Oliver and his horse made slow progress to wherever it was Moi was leading them. He had had so little time to collect himself after the Ship pulled into port, but that mattered not now, he would do his job and get his pay. Then he'd be back on the Waterfront in no time. And everything would be just fine again. Still, he found it odd how it seemed like he was chosen for this and him alone. The way Moi referred to him as if though he knew he was coming. Ever still, the world moved slowly, as did his horse. The pitter patter was calming, though distracting. And inside it made him feel cool and calm. Yet everywhere on the outside, he was anything if not cluttered. Moi's horse slowed, and he came into a sudden halt. Behind him, everyone paused in their position, and watched Moi unmount and walk forward a few paces.
'We're here. I've given word for the Blades member to meet us here, they bear the shard.' Moi said, glancing around through the trees.
'Understood, everything is going according to plan, it would seem?'
'Always follow the plan, Rickaby. Always follow the plan.' Oliver kept quiet, mumbling something under his breath. Hooks turned to Oliver confusingly, what were Rickaby and Moi referring to, what plan were they missing out on? Above all, why were they here?
'What plan, Rickaby?' Hooks said, slowly coming down from his horse, as did Oliver, listening sharply to what was being said.
'You'll understand soon, friend.' Said Rickaby, keeping a steady hand over the hilt of her sword.

 

18

Some hours later, the night was darkening, and the tint of red was shining through the clouds. This indeed was the night. Rognar was the one who led their party, as he had received the instructions from Arain on where to go. The shrine of Sanguine, along the Golden Road and deep into the Great Forest. It was there a great fire blazed, like Oliver's beating heart as Lynch and his companions approached them. Arain had ordered for Rickaby and the rest of her party to remain silent, completely, and though Oliver felt like he wanted to talk, and to ask questions, he felt as if though he couldn't open his mouth. Lynch still kept all three of his blades at his disposal, though he knew for now he wouldn't need them. He smiled at Arain as he paced forward quickly towards her, but Arain did not return the smile. Lynch looked to his left, to see something he wished was untrue.
He saw the Boy, where Oliver stood. And then, as he stumbling backwards, he began to scream. Mayes and Erathor too looked in shock, to find the perfect doppelg?nger of the Boy stood where Oliver was.
'Surprised, Lynch?' Moi asked, chuckling.
'H- He died! Before my eyes!' Lynch screamed, unsheathing his Daggers. As did Mayes and Erathor, sensing that something foul was abound. Oliver laid both of his weary eyes on Lynch, narrowing his brow in confusion, who was this Bosmer crawling around in the dirt, ranting things that made no sense? He could feel something inside of him. Something heavy tugged at his heart. As did it to Lynch, who glanced between Rickaby and Arain.
'Where is the shard, Lynch?' Moi asked, standing dangerously close to Arain. Rognar came from behind Lynch, presenting forth the obsidian shard wrapped in linen. He bowed before Arain, outstretching his arms, handing it to her. Arain needn't even look to Lynch to know he was fearing what was going to happen next. As the shard was placed into her palms, the lit fires around them grew untameable, spreading around them like a starving wolf to a flock of sheep. From these flames, out of almost literally nowhere, came swarms of men in Red Robes.

The Mythic Dawn.

'What the hell is this, Arain?!' He shouted once more.
'Why do you think you were chosen, all of those years ago, son of Strike?' She asked. 'Why do you think Lynch Strike, son of the Captain of The Blades, prodigal son of a Dremora Lord and Pride Member. Was tracked down and brought to us, the Heroes Guild? Why do you think the Heroes died off with the Pride?' Lynch stayed silent, panting for breath. Was this truly happening? The men surrounded him now, drawing closer with conjured weaponry. Behind him, he heard a thud. Both Mayes and Samuel dropped dead to the floor, an arrow shot into their backs. Erathor instantly grew into his wolf form, leaping forward to rip through the oncoming crowds of Agents, and with him, he took Rognar. Futile, arrows by the plenty were shot from the towering darkness above them in the trees, and though he managed to take a few with him, Erathor dropped. Though, none were shot to Lynch.

Oliver and Hooks tried to move, but their bodies were frozen stiff. Arain had cast a spell upon them in the silent waiting. And only the muscles in their faces ceased to freeze.
'Arain, what are you doing?! Moi!' Lynch screamed and screamed and screamed in agony and anger. He gripped the both of his Daggers very tightly, spreading his stance. The approaching Agents took swings at him, but Lynch danced around them, angrily slicing away at their thin robes and through their flesh.
'Do you not get it, Lynch? Everything you have been doing since you were born was killing. You were born to kill. Your Father created you in his image, and once we found that he was indeed the spawn of Anov, we took him out the same way we will to you. We slaughtered everyone you have ever brought to me, for they were too, chosen by the Dread Lords. Every child, every man, everyone you have ever loved. They have all died in your name. You are but a pawn in this much larger game, Lynch. And you have served your purpose well. But with this final blow, we will rip open the skies and unleash the true hell Molag Bal had in mind for this pitiful plain of existence.'

And that was when Arain turned to Oliver, and put a blade to his neck.

There was a still moment in time, were everything flashed back before him. To most, it would have been considered the time were your life flashes back before your very eyes. But to Hooks, this was a moment where the one person he truly cared about, no matter how relentlessly rejected that care was, was about to be executed in front of him. And in that moment, the magic that then strung his limbs tight into a ball, vanished. And the axe that Hooks so famously knew how to wield found itself in his hands, swinging into Arain. And yet still, Arain, like Lynch before her, anticipated his attack even before Hooks did. And the axe somehow, with the force of uncontrollable magic, ended up deep into his back. Like the apple from the poison tree, Hooks too did fall.

Rickaby stood still, as she saw her friend die, but her face remained emotionless, stone. Nothing moved her at that moment. Lynch continued, to the best of his ability, to best the many that surrounded him with grace.
And suddenly, there was blackness.

Lynch stood in the middle of a field of corpses, wings sprouting from his spine, his Daggers dug into the ground, and his feet hovering above it. He was the son of the spawn the very thing he was sent to destroy, created. He was a monster. A true walking rapture. Even as the bodies dropped, there was no end to the amount that continued to pour from the flame portals. And the rain from the skies above kept lashing, lashing down onto the battlefield. The red blanket of sky grew denser in colour, and it surrounded the entire Forest. Oliver could not believe what he was seeing, though somewhere in his mind, this felt oddly familiar, like a dream he once had on the Waterfront. Yes, it was clear now. He knew this man. They all knew this man. Every one of Arain's targets, including Lynch's mother herself, knew what this boy was. This demon. This Dremora Lord.

And that was when the skies, as they were foretold by the Boy that Lynch held so dearly, ripped apart. Just as the gates of Oblivion were opened, Dremora spewed from them, falling down, descending onto Cyrodil. The skies expanded very quickly, and the plague of the Dremora was inescapable. No barriers were put up to protect the cities, no portals were established by the Dark Brotherhood, as was promised by Tai. In fact, there was no Brotherhood to speak of, as Moi had murdered them all in a cleansing.
Yes, Oliver knew what was also to come of him. And suddenly everything he felt, the love for Rickaby, the golden haired mercenary whom he grew up with. For Hooks, his Orc best friend, who abandoned him and later came to deeply regret it once it put him in states Oliver only best described as depression. And for himself, an alcoholic thief with combat experience, died out. All Oliver saw was red. He was indeed the doppelg?nger of the Boy, and therefore he also shared his unexplainable talent for adaptation.
To go in a sheep
And come out a wolf.

 

Arain's dagger was taken from her hands before Arain had any chance to register his movements. Oliver ducked under her reach, slashing at her sides and running forward to Moi, whom now was readying himself to attack, but it was futile. Oliver ripped through him with ease, and Moi hit the deck within moments. Sent to the void. Rickaby held her sword out to him, but was sent flying out of her hands and into a tree. She was no friend of his, she was an informant for an enemy unknown. And she had to die.
Though he hesitated, he plunged the dagger into her stomach, and let her down gently. He looked her in the eyes, as the light faded from them. He hated to admit it. But he loved her. And in her dying moment, before she took her last breath, he leant in for a kiss. And as he picked her head up from the ground, he can tell she didn't mean to hurt him. She was doing this for his own good, so she thought. A tear formed in his eye as she died away, but his sorrow couldn't be embraced for long, as the portals that were still open around them still produced more Agents, moving swiftly towards him. Lynch simply stared into the open void in the sky. Oliver quickly darted his eyes around, looking for the shard wrapped in Linen, and he could see it was in the middle of the field, past a group of oncoming enemies. Oliver hoisted himself up off of the ground and jumped, as Lynch would have done, ridiculous heights into the air, landing dead centre in the middle of the group, dancing around them all, slicing and dicing, disarming his opponents and coming out to grab the shard. His voice resonated so clearly in Lynch's ears, sounding almost identical to the Boy's whenever he had a bad dream and screamed into the night.

Endgame.



Lynch spun in the air, to see the shard hurling towards him in the sky. He caught it, looking down to Oliver to see a twinkle in his eye. That very same spark. The tugging in his heart now turned into a pushing on his chest, and a mixture of anger and dark hatred filled his heart. He had been betrayed by everyone whom he had loved, and those who would have stuck by Lynch until the end, were killed abruptly. Their efforts in vain. Oliver continued hovering over the body, fighting off the Agents that came out in no end. And as Lynch ascended higher into the sky, he could see all around him, past the mountainside, in the heart of the Imperial City, everywhere from Anvil to Leyawiin, complete chaos. Turmoil riddled the land once more, as it did when Mehrunes Dagon himself stepped onto the plain of the living. Dremora by the plenty were unleashed into Cyrodil, and it would spread into all of Tamriel, unless Lynch flew. So he did, uncontrollably so, higher and higher. Climbing into the plain of Oblivion.

And then, there was darkness. Lynch could not see a thing, he could not smell, he couldn't feel nary a breeze or the ground beneath his feet. He could not sense his heartbeat, he could not hear the screams around him. It was simply black. Then, the shard in his hand began to burn. He tilted his head down, and saw himself clearly, but everywhere around him was a thick and endless void of complete nothing. The shard glowed and turned blue, and suddenly it vanished. A voice called out to him.

'Son.' Lynch turned around, he could finally feel a surface beneath him, though what it was he could not tell, for it was soft and void of any temperature. There stood a Knight, standing tall with wings so white. He held a sword engulfed in flames, though he was stood calmly. He bore the armour of the Blades, and Lynch knew it was Kristoff. He knew it was his Father.
'Father. Why am I here? What is this?'
'You are a Dremora. You were never born among those in Valenwood. You were created right here in the realm of Shadows. And you were born with one purpose in the mind of Princess Azura; to reach Godhood and enter the Shadowland. To murder the Daedric Prince of Nightmares.' Kristoff's voice was muffled under his silver helm that concealed his face. 'As was I. Born to try and achieve power. My name was never Kristoff. And there was a reason my name was protected by the magical being known as 'The Keeper.' Son, I am the Demi-Prince Anov. And you are the key to all life, both Dremoric and Living.' Lynch registered this carefully.
'And what of Meridium? What happens now? Am I dead?' Lynch asked.
'No, my Son. Soon you will find yourself flying through the Shadow Realm. Into the plain of Meridium. Into the Lion's Den.'
'What do I do?' He asked once more, hastily.
'You take the shard, and you run it through his heart. Only then, will you achieve Godhood and finally enclose the realm.'
'Right, and why have there been gateways to Oblivion being opened in the sky, Father?'
'The Dremora themselves fear Meridium, for he can vanquish all life in Oblivion. Should the Dremora know their plane is safe once more, you as a God will send them all back. The only thing keeping the Dragonfires from being lit as of now is Meridium still being in existence. Wipe him, my son.'

Lynch wasn't able to ask any of the thousands more questions that still remained, for he found himself once more flying high, the sound of screams returned to his ears and the sight of Dremora flying down towards him was one more clear. Lynch simply charged upwards, his force breaking through any and every Churl that flew to him. He could feel the Portal's magic irradiating the atmosphere, and a split second later, all Lynch could feel was death around him.

He entered the plane of Shadows.

Rather than the void his Father, Anov, was entrapped in, Lynch could see a red ground stretching underneath his feet, and black clouds above him in a black sky. Empty. Void of life, both undead and that of Meridium's creation. A palette of darkness and blood was used to create whatever unworldly realm this was. For a moment, Lynch could feel the ground beneath him tremble as he walked, the red aura surrounding his skin grew thick and dense. And then he heard it, the call of the dragon.

Turning to face the threat coming to him, Lynch saw a figure standing tall, with white hair and a dark complexion, with sharp features mapping his face. His angry, sour face. His voice boomed.
'I am the Lion you seek, son of Anov.' Meridium said, Lynch felt the world shift and turn as he spoke, everything around them cracking. A surge of power lifted Lynch back into the air, his wings flapping, too breaking the world. It was his purpose to execute the Prince of Nightmares, and if, for the rest of his life, either as a God or Bosmer Mercenary, Lynch had to face the nightmares of watching all of his friends die in front of him again.
Lynch would have gladly broken the strings of nature to end him. And now he had the chance.

He spoke a whisper to that of Meridium's loud and echoing voice, and knowing words were only slowing him down, Lynch moved forwards, just as quick as Meiridum, and they clashed weapons together. Lynch, with his Blade of Woe that held the souls of everyone he loved, and Meridium with what remained of his Sword of Aeons that trapped him in this realm in the first place. They both bounced back, equally stunned at the power they were exerting. Again, and again, and again, and again. They struck and parried each other in the air, without a single loss in stamina. Lynch's heart began to cease to beat. And the aura grew stronger. All around him he could see them, the Boy, Samuel, Anov, Erathor, Orn, Rickaby, Mayes.. All of the Heroes that guided him through childhood and onwards. It only drove Lynch even closer to the brink of death. More so than the angry Prince that swiped at Lynch, giving him but a split second to meet his Sword with Blade.

It was at that point, did Lynch stop breathing, and his heart stopped pumping blood around his body and his emotions, all of those faces, gone. He had truly reached Godhood. Meridium landed a blow, sending Lynch flying miles backwards, his limp body hurling across the cracked terrain. But it didn't hurt. He was truly unkillable, at that point.
An immortal.

Lynch had lost his Blade, but the shard burnt a hole in his off hand. Strangely enough, it had felt as if though it had never been there, as Meridium struck him down. Seeing that he was still in existence, Meridium charged down to Lynch for one last blow, thinking it would finally kill him. But alas, Lynch was trained by masters. He was a walking rapture, a predator. He was a killer.
The shard barely missed the cold steel of the obsidian sword, and Lynch struck it forward, digging it through Meridium's chest and through his heart. Ripping through his back and creating a hole inside of him. Lynch grasped at his heart, his cold and dead heart, and ripped it from its cage. Watching as Meridium and the world around him collapsed, he observed it for a moment. Thinking about everything that had happened. Never caring for any of it.

He came out of the world, flying with his wings, just as quickly as he went into it. Holding the sword of Aeons, though still remaining uncompleted, the final shard being lodged into Meridium's corpse, now ceasing to exist with the rest of the Shadow Realm. But as Lynch flew forward into the void of nothing once more, he came to realise he was flying over the plane of Oblivion, and the portals that were ripped open were coming steadily to a close. Lynch hurled himself down, if he could just make it out of the Portal, he could return to Tamriel once more. To Luciana, to Oliver, the doppelg?nger of the Boy. And to bury his beloved dead friends.

But as he came close to the portal, and as he noticed it close, he found himself back in the void.
Back where nothing remained.
Where Anov, his Father, stood once more before him.
'You can't return, Lynch. You are a God, now. A Prince. Like I. Unnamed, unworshipped. A myth. A legend. You have fulfilled your purpose.' Lynch came down from his hovering and landed stealthily.
'You mean, I may never get to see the aftermath?' Lynch said, still holding the sword tightly.
'Oh, no. My Son. Meridium was just in our way. There's a much bigger punishment for the Dremora, and for the Humans in the making.' Lynch grinned to his father. He would bring vengeance to his fallen allies. For his real purpose was to never be a Wood Elf Mercenary. It was never to find love. It was never to master combat.

It was to kill.
It was to murder those who oppose him.
It was to become Lynch, the Daedric Prince of Aeons.
It was to perfect the dance of death.

And yet, still falling, in the empty void, were the bells in his dreads, fallen out and jingling. Ever so softly.



?

Cyrodil burned, all around. The Great Forest was turned to ashes, most of whatever remained of Cities was set ablaze. The countryside?s were engulfed in flames, and the skies around them were full of smoke.
But behind those fires, was a blue sky. And as the inhabitants of the Cities and of the Cloud Ruler Temple came out of hiding, as the soldiers of the Imperial Legion buried their dead soldiers and as the remains of the Daedra were put back down,
Oliver Tanvery holds Rickaby's body, standing on a hill above the army of bodies.
Vowing revenge.

?

End.

 

didnt read

 

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