Skyrim, Whiterun Province, Fourth Era.

The Dwarven deep-elves were master craftsman of their time; as many of their machinations had survived to the Fourth Era, and presumably would last until the Fifth. Their creations ranged from golden-automatons that guarded their legacy with an almost religious fervor, though that would be too ironic for Dwemer standards; to giant cities of stone and brass. These city-forts were built to stand fast against almost any threat; including the forces of time. They persisted until man, once just tiny-babes in comparison to the might of the Dwarven race, had finally matured enough to understand how to build towns and villages. Cities followed, then organized civilization, then province-wide governments. Naturally, these would expand to encompass large tracts of land; on which was already a stake claimed by previous inhabitants; namely the Dwarves. Whiterun hold was infamous for having this exact problem. Just west by southwest of the capital city, and just around the Throat of the World, next to the border of the Rift, lay the untouched ruins of a Dwarven fortress; complete with metal gates, turret towers, and stone walls to spare. This overjoyed the Jarl, who at the time of this discovery, had been a scholarly fellow. His curiosity piqued, he cobbled together an expedition team to explore the mysterious fort; of which he would spearhead the exploration. When they had arrived at said fort however, they were almost instantly set upon by the fort's security system; consisting of the stereotypical Dwarven Spheres and Spiders. After being the only member of the expedition to return alive, The Jarl ordered a perimeter to be established around the circumference of the ruined city, and barred entrance to anyone demanding passage through; making it a criminal offense of the highest echelon. This law was set in stone for around two-hundred years, until the Jarl of that time devised a new plan. He would sell the land to any person willing to risk their lives for ancient Dwemer secrets! The Jarl, completely pleased with himself, made it known that any man or elf could purchase the rights to the brass acropolis, and the eldritch secrets that lay within.

But two-hundred years built too much stigma for any native to dare venture close. Their fathers, and forefathers, and fore-forefathers dictated to never go near the fort; lest they die a horrible death at the hands of a metal abomination; or the headsman's axe! No one would dare buy it; not just for fear of an early visit to Sovngarde, but many just thought it a bad investment.

It wasn't until the Hundredth and Thirty-Third year of the Fourth Era, did someone make an offer to the Jarl for the rights to the fort.

The individual who purchased the land, and thusly the fort itself, was a Dark Elf enchanter; who had introduced himself to the Jarl as Lord Daedrale Vir. He was a refugee from Morrowind as he claimed, and his story was that he had led himself to migrate to the different provinces; before finally settling in Skyrim, as he said it was the most "tame", in order to continue his research into his magickal interests unabated. As he was an outsider, he had no connection to the stigma the brass-castle held to the native Nords. He quickly purchased the land, and set off almost as quickly as he arrived; with only a burlap-sack in hand.

It was until twenty years later, when all reports of anything going in or coming out of the fort evaporated, that Daedrale Vir had been seen in Whiterun hold! He now personified a peculiar visage; even more so than that which he looked when he arrived in Skyrim. He adorned himself in an armored robe of grey and black metal, of undetermined origin. A cape of fine black silk; which flickered in the wind, was clasped to his pauldrons. The most alien of his new wardrobe was a Brass arm-piece adorning his left-forearm. This armband glowed a green hue, and had three glowing knobs that he was seen fiddling and poking at every-time he had been glanced upon in public. This was further accentuated by a grey mask he always wore under his hood; as it gave a certain enigmatic praise to his already annoyingly obscured person.

His wardrobe was interesting to say the least, but his choice of companionship was even stranger. In every sighting of Daedrale Vir, there had been another tale of a brass-man, who's eyes glowed a pale blue, and wore the same brass arm piece as his master. Many thought he had simply hired a mercenary adorned in Dwarvish Armor; but many who had seen him in the person, described him as an actual automaton! Even more so interesting was the fact that this automaton hissed no vapors of steam; nor did it click or clack with incessant frivolity. Many said, that in place of these basic robotic functions, that the brass-man emitted a gentle humming noise; many compared it to a muffled flicker of torch-flame, and exchanged friendly greetings in the common tongue! One noted alchemist in the town of Riverwood swore she sold the brass-man a cup of Dwarven Oil; many thought this irrefutable proof of the brass-mans automated nature.

These sightings of increasing oddity finally compelled the current ruler of Whiterun hold, Jarl Alfregg, that this enchanter must be interviewed; in order to determine whether his periodic appearances were of malevolent nature. He, meaning well, posted a bounty of 10,000 Septims for the capture of Daedrale Vir; wanted alive, so that he could personally judge whether this elf-being in his kingdom was nothing to fear.

Like most bounties, it attracted an illiterate and ill-intented breed of bounty hunters. Bandit chiefs scoured endlessly for any sign of the Elf or the brass-man. The three main bandit clans, led by three Barbarian-kings, agreed to the first truce between rival bandit-clans since the days of the Red Eagle. They searched, to no avail, all over the hold; and then expanded their range to the entirety of Skyrim province. The only place they dared not check, was in fact, the forbidden fortress in which Daedrale Vir had publicly made his home! The Bandit-kings, angered by their soldiers insubordination, ordered a complete siege of the castle. Wave upon wave of Vagabonds and Highwaymen fell upon the stone walls of the old city. But every last bandit was either turned back, or killed by an army of bipedal automaton soldiers!; wielding weapons not even the Dwemer were crafty enough to consider inventing. This angered the Barbarian-kings, who directed their anger to the capitol of Whiterun hold itself. But soon they realized that their entire army had fallen to the machinations!

Word had reached Jarl Alfregg that the Bandit army that amassed near the Riften Border had been decimated. Astonished at how efficient Daedrale's inventions had been, he excused himself, slinking away to recuperate in his personal chambers; but truly, only to ponder about the consequences of such a powerful army in the wrong hands.

But as soon as the doors to the Jarl's bedroom had closed, the very shadows of the room warped; to reveal that another had already entered the room! It was none other than the enigmatic Daedrale Vir himself! He was wearing his described apparel: the metal robes, the silken cape, and the brass-armband; which glowed with an eerie green light. But missing from his person, was his grey mask; as it was adorning the table in front of the seat which Daedrale sat with an inquisitive look on his face. The enchanter still wore a hood, but his entire visage was presented to Jarl Alfregg; who at entrance, stumbled for words. He was completely and utterly shocked.

"Ysmir's beard! How did you get in here! How did you get past the guards?", asked Alfregg. "I thought you were..."

"Hiding in my fortress?" finished the cloaked elf. "No, that would be too predictable; and worse, boring." Daedrale then reached into one of the many pouches that adorned his waist-belt, and pulled out a longpipe. He then reached for a pocket attached to his thigh, where as he plucked a spring of dried Elves Ear. He crumbled the leaf into the pipe, and lit it with his fore-finger. After taking a large drag from the longpipe, he then reached around his chair, and hefted a large burlap-sack onto the floor next to his feet. An audible slosh greeted the furnished wood, as the bag seemingly dripped blood onto the oaken planks.

"You wanted to meet me; so that you could understand why I didn't reveal myself for twenty years. You wanted to know my motives, my intentions.", Daedrale added. "I get that. But to issue a bounty, of 10,000 Septims no less, and to unintentionally hassle together the worst bandit tribes in Skyrim, just so that you could ask how I've been? Why I'm still here? "

An uncomfortable silence, followed by the clearing the Jarl's throat, was broken by the the question asking, "Yes. I couldn't have known your intentions here, but I had to assume the worst. I've amounted several enemies during my reign; including the Bandit-kings you spoke of. I have to ask, how did you escape their capture?" Jarl Alfregg was known for his strength, and his use of immeasurable bluntness; in several affairs of state, during meetings with the High-King, and now with a Dunmer Enchanter.

"I just followed them around, always two steps behind them. It's really funny to watch a bunch of n'wahs like them scurrying about like skeevers. But that's not important. What's important, is that I've solved your bandit problem.", the Dark Elf clarified. He motioned for the Jarl to come closer. When Jarl Alfregg was at arms-length, Daedrale opened the burlap sack; and showed it's contents to the horrified ruler. The heads of the Three Barbarian Bandit-Kings were stacked, like potatoes in a rucksack; in a bloody, gory display!, of which the Jarl had to excuse himself to the balcony; where as he relieved his aching stomach.

"Why, why in a bag?" the Jarl asked; still spitting vomit out of his mouth.

"Because it's better than holding them with my hands", Daedrale answered, with a slightly confused look on his face. Of all the alien things about this character, was his face. He was clearly of Dunmer heritage, but something else was there too. Most Dark Elves have pointed chins and faces, but Daedrale Vir's had a more rounded aspect about his. His eyes as well; they were a bright, vivid blue; not normal at all for a Dunmer. But more importantly than skull-shape, was that the Jarl's oral exports were extremely loud, and were to surely attract attention.

As the Jarl turned to retort, he found the elf gone! All traces of him being there; save the bloody burlap-sack, was gone. The mask was no longer on the table, the chair on whence the enchanter sat was undisturbed; as if nobody had sat there at all! The smoke, even the smell of the longpipe had vanished. The Jarl, staring at the bloody bag, was met by a lonesome hold guard, who had heard the Jarl's ails, and had taken it upon himself to check on the Jarl's well being. Alfregg merely lifted the bad into the confused guards hand, and said, "Get rid of this, now. Not a word, and I'll make sure to talk to Commander Helgferth about your good work." As the guard departed, dazed, and holding a bloody sack, another came into the Jarl's chamber. It was Jarl Alfregg's eldest son; who had come to check on his parents well being, after hearing the noises coming from his quarters.

"Father, I heard the most terrible noises! Are you sick, should we get the court wizard to brew you a tonic?" inquired the young lad. This boy was all the reason Alfregg had to exist. He, and his brother. were his most prized possessions; He would one day rule Whiterun as justly as himself.

"Go to back to bed Balgruuf, I'm fine now. I just had a bit too much venison earlier!", quipped the Jarl.

"Alright Father. Good night!"

As his son departed, Alfregg peered out of his balcony. He knew that Daedrale Vir would return for a second interview. He didn't want anymore conversations like this, so he would have to remove the bounty first. That would get his attention.

**Sorry it took so long to make this one. Was doing it hour-by-hour. Please review and tell me what you think!***

Also, I'm trying to get a decent screenshot to put for my profile, so it wont just be a questionmark.