Author's Note: This is essentially a novelisation of the Oblivion main quest, with a few changes to the dialogue, a few sub-plots, bits of humour/depression and choose- your-own-adventure thrown in. If you don't like something, want me to change anything, find any mistakes, or even – shock! – actually like it, chuck down a quick review.And I'm sorry, but I couldn't think of a better name than Templar.

Rated T for some uncensored swearing and scenes of graphic violence. Cover your eyes, children. Also, the prologue is quite bad. It gets better. Promise! There is, after all, only so much you can do with an intro movie.

EDIT 28/4/2011: I'm finally beginning to go through the early chapters of the story and fix things up. Updates to FanFiction have screwed up some of my formatting (namely, the divisions between different scenes), which has made things kind of confusing in a few places, so I apologise for that. I'm also correcting any remaining typos/bad sentences/assorted awkwardness, which should hopefully make the first 20 chapters or so a little more enjoyable to read.

Prologue

"I was born eighty-seven years ago. For sixty-five years I've ruled as Tamriel's Emperor. But for all these years, I've never been the ruler of my own dreams…"

Uriel Septim, the Emperor of Tamriel, bows his head, the firelight casting dark shadows on his face. One hand reaches out to touch an amulet hanging from his neck, which flares red momentarily as a scribe dutifully copies down his words. Weariness is evident in his every movement.

"I have seen the gates of Oblivion, beyond which no waking eye may see. Behold, in darkness a doom sweeps the land."

The Emperor looks up, stares into the distance. He seems to look through the walls of the tower, through time, to a memory from long ago:

The sky is red, laced with black. Bolts of lightning flicker in the distance. Amid the clanking of chains, a gigantic stone gate sweeps open. A demonic machine – a long stone body, millipede-like legs stamping down in synchronicity, evilly hooked blades spinning within a ball of fire – ponderously trawls forward, with the inevitability of an ice age. Columns of hideous beasts and monsters march on either side, the ground shaking, wielding weapons of every description – towards a rippling, fiery gate, a gate through which can be seen another world.

The view changes:

A vast expanse of water, surrounded by rolling hills carpeted by trees that reach down to the water's edge. Snowy mountains line the distant horizon. Through the haze, a soaring tower spears through the clouds.

"This is the 27th of Last Seed, the year of Akatosh, 433. These are the closing days of the Third Era - and the final hours of my life."

The scribe lets the quill fall from his fingers, which clinks softly as it falls to the floor. After a moment, he picks it up with a shaking hand and continues.

A gigantic city, all carved marble houses and elaborate gardens, starts to appear. From above, the city is a perfect circle, its centre the tower, divided into six sections, with smaller circles branching out from each point of the compass. Each avenue, park, square, statue is perfect. It is a city of dreams.

The view soars over the white city walls, towards a smaller district surrounded by a grove of trees. It flies ever faster, centering on a window and then diving into the ensuing blackness-

Mankar Camoran, Lord of Dawn, steps back from the vision, folds his arms and smiles.