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12th of Sun's Dusk, 4E 204

Whiterun, Skyrim

"If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story." - Orson Welles

Kaius

The Chief stared up at Dragonsreach and tried not to imagine its doom. Would Morden keep the impressive structure intact? A monument to his power, perhaps? Or would he just destroy the entire thing? It would make sense for him to garrison the entire city after he sacked it, but then again, Morden was completely mad. There was no telling what he would do.

The Chief leaned against the outer battlements of Whiterun and stared up at the Jarl's palace in the last fading rays of daylight. As of now, Whiterun was packed to the brim with people. Most of them were soldiers who had come to garrison the city against the impending Malustarii attack. Others were refugees who were setting up tent-cities since all the spare rooms were full.

It was a mess.

Kaius glanced back into the plains and glowered at the torches lit way out there like fireflies. The Malustarii were closing in, one big mad army made up of many smaller armies. All equally mad. He didn't think he'd ever know what Morden had said to each species or party that made them all work together, but here they were. All bound for Whiterun, the heart of Skyrim. It wasn't lost on him that Whiterun was essentially Dovahkiin's home turf.

As Kaius trudged back into the city past swarms of refugees that clogged the gutters like rats, he felt a strange emotion, one that he felt recently with Serana. Guilt. His plan would likely get these people killed if it worked out as he expected. He didn't want them to die. After all, they were the Empire's people, and he was sworn to protect them. However, he knew that it would be necessary to forfeit this battle in order to win the war against the Malustarii. And if he tried to evacuate the people, Morden would no doubt be informed and either separate and destroy both of them or just back off his attack and wait for a juicier target.

Juicy target. Kaius was beginning to know his enemy. Morden was mad and rather unpredictable, but he had already revealed his endgame to Kaius. He wanted to become a Daedric Prince, and to do that, Morden thought he had to prove himself worthy. Just as Tiber Septim once united Tamriel under one banner, Morden planned to destroy as much of Tamriel as possible to gain favor with the Daedra.

It was a crazy plan in Kaius' opinion, but then again, it had happened before with old Tiber Septim. At least, that's what most Nords believed. It seemed within Morden's power, too. The dark lord had amassed quite a bit of strength himself even before he united the fallen things in Skyrim to do his bidding.

With the Falmer, giants, rabid animals, and random mages and bandits at his side… Well, that was why Kaius had decided to manipulate his friends into attacking head on. He had to find out by exactly how much the Malustarii had them outgunned.

He entered Jorrvaskr to find it much as he had left it: crowded with extra warriors taking up any available space on the floor, trying to catch some sleep before tomorrow's battle. Most of them wouldn't. He was careful not to step on them, but one or two lifted their heads restlessly as he passed.

The Chief went downstairs to the room Stenar graciously loaned him. It might've been comfortable, even cozy being there with Serana on a cold winter's night, if not for the men squashed in the room with them and the fact that Kaius' head and feet draped over the beds provided. He was just too tall now. He had to watch his head on the doorways now or receive a surprise wall to the face.

So instead of scrunching himself into a bed, the Chief opted to take his usual accommodation. The floor. Here he reclined, his eyes half closed, in some in between world where visions of battle and ruin occupied him until morning came.

Someone patted his armored shoulder. Instead of lunging blindly with his knife, the Chief snapped his eyes open. As he suspected, it was Serana who stood warily above him.

"Oh, good. You didn't slash at me once that time."

He acknowledged her with a snort. "No, it's not good. You're screwing up my instincts."

"Yeah? The way you've been talking about that battle today, you're going to need them."

Kaius hesitated. He hadn't confided his true plan in anyone, not even her. Was it worth the risk…? No. Of course not. What risk? I won't get anything out of telling her. He thought he might change his mind after the battle was over. She couldn't do any harm then.

"…Yeah," was all he said. They strode from Jorrvaskr. The Chief admired the spectacle of all his men preparing for combat. The lower ranking leaders shouted and cajoled and generally beat their underlings into line. Other groups were already ready and waiting, doing small things to pass the time such as sharpening swords with whetstones.

The climb to Dragonsreach took no time. The energy from the men and women around them seemed to infuse into Kaius and Serana. He didn't look out at the plains, knowing the sight there would make him more nervous.

The guards at the door eased them open just wide enough for the Chief in his bulky armor to squeeze through. He glanced from side to side as he walked up to the Jarl's throne, a habit he picked up from his earliest days in the Legion. Know your surroundings.

Stenar was already there, pacing like a caged wolf. Dovahkiin sat in a chair near the long tables, gazing steadfastly at a point in the carpet. As they approached, he rose and nodded in greeting.

"Finally, we're all here," said the Jarl in a tense voice. Kaius supposed he had reason to be stressed. The fate of his city would be decided today.

"No, sir." The Chief disagreed. "The cat isn't."

Like a monkey from Valenwood's jungles, Jag leapt off a ceiling beam and landed in a roll, straightening up to smoothly grab a sweet roll from the table. He yawned, as if he'd just woken from a nap. "Actually, this one was here before all of you. You may proceed."

"If you'll all follow me up to my war room…" the Jarl motioned with a hand before leading the way to an open room behind and above his seat. They stood around a table that had a map draped over it which detailed a section of Whiterun Hold, it seemed. The section between the Malustarii lines and the city.

"My thieves were kind enough to make us that," Jag purred. "It is nice, yes?"

"Very." Dovahkiin said, frowning. "Now, if we meet the enemy as we've discussed before, our lines will clash with theirs along this section of creek, near the Western Watchtower. We should put archers in the tower to rain fire down on the enemy."

"And our forces are divided how, again?" asked Jag idly. "I assume we have a plan?"

"Yes." Kaius began. "We'll put legionnaires in front since their shields are the largest. Standard phalanx tactics should work well against their undisciplined rabble. Guards and unaffiliated individuals will make up the bulk of our army."

"Unaffiliated individuals?" asked Stenar.

"Mercenaries. Your Companions. Any man who can raise a sword, really. I think we'll need them all."

"Okay," Stenar said. "Continue."

The Chief nodded as if nothing had happened. "Right behind the front lines will be mages, both the survivors from the College of Winterhold and any hedge witch that can control their magic. That should strengthen the front lines. We'll have archers in the Western Watchtower and behind the bulk of the army. And finally, our "special assets" will drop Vanguard squads and other elite warriors behind the Malustarii army. They'll go after Morden."

There was a silence. Finally, Jarl Balgruuf said, "Attack Morden? After all you've told me about him, do you believe they have a chance?"

"I'm not sure," the Chief admitted. "Morden is extremely powerful. But with Stenar, Jag, Dovahkiin, and myself to supplement those shock troops, I think we stand a good chance of taking him out. Even if we fail, their leadership will be pretty occupied. I suggest you use that to your advantage, Jarl Balgruuf."

"Aye," Balgruuf grumbled. The Chief didn't blame him for not wanting to lose some of his best men and leaders.

"We'll get it done, sir." Dovahkiin added.

The Jarl nodded, suddenly appearing stronger than before. "Then we go forth as free mortals into the jaws of death. Rally your men."

A chorus of "aye's!" filled the room, and they jogged off to make the final preparations. Kaius, for his part, had to run just outside the city where the bulk of his Imperial Legion forces were garrisoned. The few Vanguard troopers that had been lodged within Whiterun's walls followed him when he passed.

He found the legionnaires mostly ready. Their ranks gleamed with the sigil of the Empire, but the men's faces were grim. They'd heard tales of what happened to Morthal and Markarth, and it showed. One youngster threw up on the calves of the man in front of him. But as the Chief appeared, every soul stood straighter, even if it was just to get a glimpse of him. They'd all heard the tales of his exploits. He'd heard them himself. Most were greatly exaggerated, but that was okay if it meant they'd follow him without question.

The Chief stood still for a moment, looking out over his small army. He wondered how many of them he was going to get killed with this plan of his. Probably a lot. He felt guilty about that, but it was for the greater good. And he swore to himself that to minimize casualties, he'd draw out his forces as soon as Morden showed his hand. It wouldn't be necessary to batter them against a superior force. The Chief knew exactly what to do in those kinds of situations, and he had a feeling he was going to have to use a different strategy if today turned out the way he thought it would.

"Soldiers of the Legion! Today we fight for our homes and for our families. The Malustarii will kill every last citizen if we do not stop them! But we will stop them. Keep your swords red and your shields up, and we will prevail. Form up, and lead the way to war!"

There was a loud cheer as he finished. The Chief shrugged inwardly. It's not much compared to what Stenar or Dovahkiin would say, but I have a feeling they'll make a speech pretty soon anyway. That should tide the men over.

The soldiers began to march to the plains of Whiterun just as the other forces came out of the city to join them. There was a bit of confusion as the different forces mingled and organized themselves the way the Chief ordered, but eventually he was satisfied that they were ready… Or as ready as they were going to be.

The legionnaires had been briefed about the Malustarii until they knew them inside and out. They knew strengths, weaknesses, and what species made it up. What they didn't know was what the Malustarii were after. They didn't know why they were fighting. And Kaius knew that the why was sometimes more important than anything else.

That was why he hoped Dovahkiin had a kickass speech to give before the battle. And he was not disappointed.

The Malustarii army grew from muddy specks in the distance to an imposing force as they marched. Each time the legionnaires took a step, their boots drummed out a solid boom. The guards and the rest of their allies were not on step, but it was curious how much they tried to mimic the professional soldiers. The result was an initial boom of thunder from the ground followed by a cascade of softer paces.

Each time the Chief fought in large battles like this, he found it intensely interesting how clearly his mind worked when faced with the prospect of death. It was like… The worse the danger was, the more feelings and thoughts he processed. Amusing, really. Perhaps the best ideas could be made by threatening someone? It was something to try out, if he survived this battle.

No. That kind of thinking would buy him a grave. He'd promised Serana that they'd both survive this conflict with the Malustarii, and by the Divines he'd keep his oath!

They had reached the Western Watchtower. The Malustarii were almost in range now. Kaius was at the front of the procession with Stenar, Dovahkiin, and Jag. He held up a fist, and the army at his back stuttered to a halt.

"I'm going to climb the tower and give these boys a little motivation," Dovahkiin told them. "Watch my back, will you?"

Jag shrugged. "Sure. Try not to make yourself a target."

Here it comes, Kaius thought as the Dragonborn ascended the partially ruined steps inside the Western Watchtower. Up top now, he raised his hands like a priest of Talos preaching to heathens.

"Some of you with us here today are green, have not yet tasted the lust of battle. You'll taste it soon. Others of you are veterans. We'll need you. But none of you have fought this new threat! None of you have experienced the wanton destruction that is the Malustarii! The fact is, men, that this bastard army is not like you or me. They are utterly mad, devoid of pity or humanity. And as such, we show them no mercy!"

"We know what they seek," he continued. "The Malustarii gathered just across the plain seek to end all that is good in this world! They will tear down everything that we've worked so hard for. But this is not our fate! We fight them! And when they lay bloody at our feet, the world will know that the men and mer of Skyrim are not so easily broken! I say to you, then… To war!"

The allied host of warriors cheered and beat swords upon shields until the sky itself seemed to split with the force of it. Kaius felt his blood stir and he added his voice to theirs.

The Malustarii had been waiting silently, but now, as their enemy let out a challenging cry, they lumbered forward, towards the Western Watchtower,

Let them come, thought the Chief. He signaled to an Imperial Legate at the top of the tower.

"Notch. Draw. Loose!" the legate commanded to the archers, who complied with a volley of projectiles that seemed to blot out the sun. Between the upraised shields, sorcerers chanted arcane things that lifted the neck hairs of those around them. Some men gasped as they were suddenly covered in a magical sheen of protection.

The Chief stood a few men behind the front lines, so he got to personally see the Malustarii come towards him like a tide. The phalanx hunched their shoulders. With a large crash, the two armies met and surged back and forth, trying to push each other back. A command echoed down the Allied lines.

"Legionnaires! Push!"

Every person on the phalanx shoved with all their might. The Malustarii staggered back. Before the enemy could close the gap, spears were shoved over the Imperial shields and found Malustarii flesh. It was quite satisfying. Every time the enemy tried to break through, the call would go out, shields would smack them away, and javelins impaled them.

From atop the Western Watchtower, the Dragonborn Shouted, and an inferno roiled from his mouth into the enemy, painting their soldiers black with char wherever it touched. The Chief grinned. Dragon fire was a handy thing to have on their side. He strode forward, edging around one of his legionnaires. Without pausing, he lifted Abyssal Shard and fired through a gap in the mass of bodies. A bandit went down. He reloaded, fired again. Another one bit the dust.

Another Shout from the tower. A group of Malustarii went sprawling under the force of the Thu'um.

So it went.

When a nearby legionnaire on the forefront was wounded, Kaius relieved him of his diamond shaped shield and took his place. Blows hammered onto the already weathered shield, so Kaius swung his mace overhead and crushed a Falmer's cheap chitin helm.

"Push!"

The Chief's shield, which was currently locked in place with those of the man and woman on either side of him, escaped the confines of the line rather easily. It smacked a troll in the chops, shattering teeth and jawbones. Before the unfortunate creature could respond, a newly acquired spear caught it in the throat. It went down with a whimper.

To the Chief's mild surprise, they actually seemed to be winning. Dozens of Malustarii already lay dead from the Imperial tactics, and many more lay sprawled in the trampled grass with arrow shafts protruding from their corpses.

Of course it was too good to last.

First, they heard spine chilling laughter that rose up over the screams of the wounded and dying. It was oddly uniform, and only vaguely familiar to the Chief. Maybe from the Western Watchtower he'd have a better view.

"You there! Take my place," he instructed a competent Vanguard trooper.

"Aye, sir!" the young Nord replied, and rushed to fill the gap as Kaius strode away. Half jogging around the carefully spaced warriors, the Chief reached the Watchtower and ascended the crumbling spiral staircase.

Once he reached the top, he saw that he was the last of his fellow leaders to arrive. Jag knelt at the wall, carefully picking targets with a bow. Stenar and Dovahkiin were in heated conversation next to the cat.

"—Must be the ones from Labyrinthian!" Stenar exclaimed.

"Nonsense!" Dovahkiin argued. "There wasn't enough room for all of them. We didn't see…"

"They came out of the underground crypts when we were spotted. We don't know how big those warrens are. There could be room for these and more in there."

"What are you talking about?" Kaius asked.

They turned to look at him, and that's when he saw past them. The plains were now a mass of gray and dark iron with twinkling blue constellations. Draugr, perhaps a thousand or more, had come to reinforce the Malustarii.

Good. Morden was finally showing more of his hand. But was this all of his forces? Kaius doubted it.

"Dragonborn," Jag said. "Now might be a good time to give your family a call."

They all looked at each other. Locked eyes. It was now or never.

Dovahkiin walked to the other end of the circular roof. His gaze was east, back the way they'd come. "Odahviing!" he Shouted, and this time there was no immediate effect. But this was the signal that would hopefully end the battle, and it did not go unanswered.

Seven shapes rose into the sky behind Whiterun. Seven dragons roared to the heavens. And perhaps, if there wasn't a huge battle going on beneath them, the Chief might have been able to hear smaller voices of the Vanguard on dragonback roar along with their steeds.

It wasn't long before the dragons reached them, but the Chief had time to ask, "So, has anyone seen Morden? Do we know where to get dropped off?"

"Yes, this one has seen him." Jag's ears flicked behind him, detecting the arrow that skipped across the roof before it happened. "I thought we might drop in for a bit." The Khajiit glanced at Kaius' crossbow. "Shoot in and out?"

"Here he comes," Dovahkiin said. An impressive red dragon swooped in and hovered beside the Western Watchtower, probably making the soldiers in his shadow wet themselves. They'd decided beforehand that the damaged tower wouldn't support his weight, and it was out of the question to land amidst the men below.

So Kaius took a running jump off the tower and grabbed two of the spikes that followed the dragon's spine. Odahviing dipped at this new weight, but managed to stay in the sky. The others jumped after him, Stenar nearly slipping off before Dovahkiin grabbed his forearm.

"We're all on, Odahviing! Go, go, go!"

Odahviing had to flap laboriously to counter the weight of large men in heavy armor. In the meantime, the other six dragons had gone low over the draugr army and breathed streams of fire onto them. The congruent rows of flaming undead seemed beautiful except for their stench.

Kaius hoped his lieutenants could handle that new threat while he and the others went after Morden. He was sure if they could do that, the Malustarii's will to fight to crumble. But first… They had to cut off the head.

Odahviing followed Jag's instructions to a nondescript spot on the plain where a figure in Daedric armor was waiting. The few other dragons loaded down with elite warriors were circling Morden, who watched them, seemingly unconcerned. As Odahviing began his descent, the dragons landed cautiously and the riders climbed off.

Jag jumped when Odahviing was still meters in the air, rolling to dissipate his impact. The rest of them climbed off as quickly as possible, keeping their weapons at the ready.

Morden, amazingly, hadn't moved. Hadn't even lifted a hand or started a spell. It made Kaius feel uneasy.

"Good afternoon," hissed the dark lord. "I'd offer you cheese, but it seems you're not here for refreshments." He cackled, then stopped suddenly, as if he'd never actually found it funny. "Ah, but where is Virali? Did she fall behind?"

Kaius didn't wait. He walked forward, raising Dawnbreaker, about to break into a run… He hit something solid and stumbled. "What?"

Morden nodded. "Ah, yes. I think you'll find that these chaps don't approve of any harm coming to me."

The air shimmered in front of Kaius. Colors changed and a shape emerged where there had been nothing. A menacing giant now stood between the Chief and Morden. All around, other bodyguards faded into view: Werebears, Dwarven automatons, various daedra, even a dragon priest of old. All looked equally vicious.

Morden spoke again. "Yes. Thought it was going to be easy, did you? Thought you'd just fly over here and overwhelm me?" His voice rose into an insane scream. "I am not a fool! Nothing you do can harm me! If you do not believe me, I shall have to teach you the hard way!"

He raised his hand, and portals opened, expelling four individuals dressed in Daedric armor like Morden. They were as tall as him, walked like him… "Stendarr's mercy," breathed Dovahkiin.

One form of Morden shrugged. "Which of you will be lucky enough to be dueling me, and not just a mirror image?"

Another of the figures unsheathed a spiked Daedric mace. "Speaking of that, how will you know?"

"Just remember," cautioned a third. "Whoever is lucky enough to duel the real Lord Morden dies first."

It seemed as if everyone attacked at once.

The extra troops that arrived on dragonback went straight for Morden's bodyguards. It didn't bode well for them, no matter how skilled the Vanguard was or how brave the Companions were. Morden's guards were mythical beasts or things made more of rumor and wild tales than flesh, and in some cases, metal.

Jag's katanas twirled a deadly dance as he chose one of the Mordens. Stenar engaged another with his large claymore. Kaius grimaced internally and chose one Morden who brandished a Daedric sword. Dovahkiin took the remaining.

The Chief went in carefully. In his peripheral vision, he could see his allies fighting Morden with all they had. The Chief feinted at Morden with Dawnbreaker. No response.

The Chief slashed at Morden for real this time, but the man was impossibly fast. Morden sidestepped and flicked a hand. A bolt of arcane lightning struck the Chief in the chest. He flinched, but it was mostly absorbed by his armor.

Morden's sword came down on him from above, and the Chief got his blade up to block it in time thanks to his enhanced speed. Strike and counterstrike were exchanged between the two of them, but it seemed like Morden always knew where he was going to attack. This wasn't going well.

"Dragonborn!" the Chief called.

"Yes?" Both Dovahkiin and Morden answered.

"Get your dragons to help us," he told the former, ducking a swipe from Morden that would have taken his head off.

"Aye," said Dovahkiin, and began Shouting at the sky while parrying Morden's weapon.

On the Chief's other side, Jag seemed to be holding his own. The Khajiit had scored several hits on his mirror image, while the copy of Morden hadn't touched him. It was mostly due to the dizzying acrobatics that Jag performed while fighting. Morden would go to hit him only to find Jag behind him with swords diving for his back.

That was good, but then Morden charged up a spell. Lightning exploded outwards from him. The closest Vanguard troopers (and Morden's own guards) were thrown several meters and lay still. Jag, however, wasn't affected. Contemptuously, he pulled out a smoking crystal from a pocket and cast the ruined soul gem aside before renewing his attack.

Stenar was having the most trouble. Having no tricks up his sleeves and no weapon besides a greatsword, the Harbinger of the Companions was at a disadvantage. He had been put on the defensive from the start, and Morden had wounded him several times. It was only because Morden and his mirror images seemed in no hurry to finish them off that he was still alive.

Kaius stepped back to avoid a thrust from Morden, hoping it would overbalance him. The Chief swiped at his enemy's wrist, and to his surprise, he actually made contact. Dawnbreaker's light burned Morden's skin where it punctured his armor. The Chief had a glimpse of grotesquely ashen skin before Morden whipped his Daedric weapon sideways and carved a shallow groove in his breastplate.

"I wonder how you managed to get the dragons on your side," Morden remarked idly. "I found that force was the only thing that swayed them."

Kaius evaded a flurry of strikes before the comment sunk in. "Wait…"

"Fus Ro Dah!"

It was just like in Jarl Ulfric's palace. The Chief was struck by a powerful force and flew backward, trying in vain to grab something to steady himself. When the dust cleared and the view stopped whirling in front of his visor, Kaius realized there was something beneath him. He raised himself up and saw Morden's helmet staring back at him.

The Chief swung one of his large elbows. It snapped Morden's head to one side. Kaius unsheathed his knife and plunged it into the small gap. The body under him let out an unearthly shriek. Then it shimmered and disappeared.

A soft chuckle made the Chief look over his shoulder. Morden, probably the real one, sauntered his way. "Congratulations," he said. "I didn't think you could even kill one of my mirror images."

The Chief was about to say something, but saw a large flying shape pass over them. Then another. And another. These weren't Dovahkiin's dragon allies, either. The friendly dragons had just extracted themselves from the battle around the Western Watchtower. They and Morden's dragons flew straight at each other.

The dragons hit each other like boulders. They screeched and clawed and breathed fire, although at close range they were likely to burn themselves too. Someone shifted in the dust near the chief. It was Stenar. He grimaced in pain, stanching the blood flow from his shoulder.

"Imperial. We cannot win this."

Kaius stared at him, wondering if it were true. Had they tried everything? Dovahkiin was tossed over to lay near them, along with the few surviving Companions and Vanguard. Jag paced in front of them, lashing his tail in rage. The only wound the Chief could see on Jag was in the form of a small rip in his Dark Brotherhood robes.

The mirror images came to stand beside the real Morden, and one by one winked out of existence. "Do you give up yet?"

Jag glanced back at the Chief, who saw his intention approaching and nodded. "Do it."

A shadow passed overhead. Jag ran toward Morden and leapt into the air. In another second he was whisked away, clutching the talon of a dragon for dear life. Morden couldn't seem to find anything to say for a few seconds. In that time, Jag had clambered up to the base of the Malustarii dragon's skull. He dug in his claws when it tried to shake him off.

An agonized cry echoed from the dragon's back. "Get ready," the Chief muttered to the two Nords. Gods only knew how Jag had managed to steer the dragon, but now he'd forced it into a dive straight for them. Morden turned his back on the three of them to look up at the dragon that was now bearing down on him, insane in its pain.

The Chief motioned, and together his friends and he crept away, toward the southern mountains. He glanced back once; Morden cast a fireball that soared straight down the dragon's throat and detonated. The Chief assumed it was dead because its flight became more of a tumble. Jag tried to leap off, but got clipped by a wing. Then there was a whump as the beast hit the ground and gouged a furrow in the plain.

Kaius saw no more, instead turning his back and fleeing the scene as fast as the others could go.

Later, after a retreat had been sounded and the allied army fell back to Whiterun, Kaius stood atop the mountain range overlooking Whiterun Hold. Their army was running, for now. The city was to be evacuated before Morden's forces reached it and slaughtered everyone there. The Chief honestly did not know how many would escape into Cyrodiil. His men would cover the refugees' escape, but there was no telling.

Amidst all the guilt and sadness inside him for those killed today, the Chief felt a spark inside him. It was no more than a glimmer, really, but he blew on it and as it grew, a smile formed beneath his helmet.

Yes, Morden was still alive. Yes, they had lost this battle. But there was no more hiding, no more games. Kaius knew what needed to be done. He knew that in the face of superior numbers, it was time to fall back and engage in guerrilla warfare. And that was what he intended to do.

"We failed." said Stenar in a choked voice. Like him, Stenar was staring out over the plains.

"No," Kaius said as he took off his helmet. "I think we're just getting started."

End of Book One

Author's Note: Well, here we are. For the last month or so, i've been dreading writing the end of this story. Avoiding it. Like most projects, it was fun when i first started, but recently... Not so much. I've noticed plotholes as big as Tamriel in it, so I decided to just grit my teeth and do it. Put it out of its misery, so to speak.

This journey has been humbling for me, as I've seen just how sharp my writing skills are. I thank you all for being here with me, especially pir84lyf who's been a solid reviewer and supporter of Rising Darkness. I'll spare you the full list of self- complaints, but know this! In about a month,I will start to write a new story. One that i promise you will have an actual intelligent plot and action only where it is needed. It will be about an Argonian Shadowscale(A secret agent lizard) who lives during the time of the Oblivion Crisis and the Red Year. (Which if you don't know, is where Black Marsh goes berserk, invades Morrowind right after the Red Mountain explodes, and drives the Empire from their land. Should be interesting, no?) What I'm most excited about is that it does not take place in any game. It will be almost fully in Black Marsh, which has only been visited in Elder Scrolls Online, I believe.

I've already said too much! But thanks again for your support, and check out my next fic! I'm not sure what the title is going to be. PM me if you have any suggestions!

~Shroudedpanther