Another volley.

1. In your travelling down a lonely road on the way to Dawnstar, you come across an injured woman on the side of the road, saying she was attacked by bandits and barely escaped. She begs you to help escort her to Dawnstar where she may properly rest, and offers a thousand Septims she claims are kept in her home there. Should you accept: The walk is long, and the two of you speak sparingly. On the way, the two of you are stopped by a small, patrolling militia. A heavily-armored woman at the front speaks, her blade pointed at the both of you. “Step away from the vampire before I rip your throat out! She isn’t escaping this time!” 

2. You are hired by the Count of Anvil to assist in the investigation of several kidnappings throughout the county, mainly of beggars and ne’er-do-wells, and after a time you settle upon the likely culprit: a lord by the name of Rimiir living in a lonely estate on the meadows. You may choose how you assault his estate to possibly rescue his prisoners—or perhaps simply speak with him—but either way, you discover that he has chained his victims up in his basement, where he regularly feeds them and forces them to drink the same fine wine as he. In a journal, and by the accounts of the victims (Rimiir himself is nowhere to be found), the lord had a morbid obsession with those he considered lesser and that “saving them from the cruelties of the world” was the only way to help them. A few victims insist that Rimiir was simply well-intentioned, while others claim he would beat them if they mentioned the outside world or complained about their lack of freedom. Just then, Rimiir returns, and while not openly aggressive, demands you leave him “to his holy work”. He has much power in the daily politics of Anvil and even has ties to the Emperor’s Court, and seeing as how his victims are all in the lower tiers of society, there is little hope they would even receive any justice for all the trouble of making a powerful noble your enemy should you choose to oust him.

3. (And now a more lighthearted one.) For one reason or another, you have been invited to a Cyrodiilic ball (or managed to sneak in). While you enjoy yourself (or perhaps morosely avoid all contact with everyone), a particularly ridiculously-dressed noble approaches, accompanied by his entourage. His tone drips with exclusivity. “You know, I realize that I have had yet to speak with you until now.” He takes a sip of the gluttonously overfull goblet he carries, smiling. “But I just [i]had[/i] to warn you of the vicious comments I’ve heard flung about over your choice of dress. Quite unfitting for a ball of [i]this[/i] nature, don’t you agree?” He and his gaggle of nobles break into a collective chortle.