"Almighty Akatosh, Dragon of Time, One-Above-All, safeguard this great empire through these troubling times, and may it stand tall against this looming threat...Mother Mara, Life Giver, One-Of-Love-Eternal, let not the people of Tamriel forget to afford their hearts to one another, and guide them through this dark night to peace...Mighty Stendarr, Ever Merciful, One-Most-Just, give your humble servant the strength to strike down the beasts that seek to bring harm to your people, and render unto them your blessings, so that they all may see the next sun..."

Hands clasped and hammer laid flat in front of him, Orintur prayed to the Divines near the front doors of the chapel, ever ready to stand tall and bring heavy steel to the heads of any daedra foolish enough to enter. None would so much as brush against the people hiding further within, not as long as he lived, and the stout elf did not intend on dying any time soon. Finishing his prayers, Orintur rose and grasped he long oak handle of his hammer confidently, his face obscured by the large front plate of his helmet.

All Orintur had wanted to do that day was pray in the chapel, in mourning of the late Emperor. It was supposed to be a simple event, invoking the basic rites of Akatosh and praying in hopes of guidance and prosperity for the Empire, just as Orintur was taught. But then that gate opened, flooding Kvatch with daedra that slaughtered and set aflame everything in their path. The only thing keeping them out of the chapel was a large piece of rubble obstructing the main doors, forcing them through the one side-door. The chokepoint made them easy pickings, and so the cowardly demons simply sat outside after five of their brethren were destroyed. 

In the dreadful silence that permeated the chapel, Orintur wondered to himself just how this all happened. How did these demons find their way into Tamriel, on their own no less? That flaming hellgate was certainly not the work of any conjurer, and no mage, no matter how strong, could bring forth so many daedra of their own volition. Then there was the fact that they seemed to be strangely...organized. Was this planned? Was the Empire being invaded by the Princes themselves!? Nothing about the situated boded well, and Orintur could only hope Kvatch received reinforcements, and that they could close the hellgate and gain access to the city. Until then, Orintur had only his hammer, and his faith in the divines.