[hider=Prologue]

[center][h2]Prologue[/h2][/center]

4E, 2043. The Emperor Havfyg Stone I stood on the balcony of his castle, gained by the slaughter of the previous Emperor nine years past. Despite the accolades, triumphs, and praise he had gained over the years for restoring the nearly full glory of the Empire, there was a pang of sadness that still lurked in his calloused, war-drawn heart. Titus Mede II, who had a voice of iron and a fist nearly as hard. Sometimes, he remembered what the man had said prior to dying and regretted what he had done. This was one of those nights.

He need not feel nostalgic though. Behind him, in his bedchambers, was a glass display case with Titus II's still beating heart. This was not done by natural means. It seemed, by appearance, the heart had a layer of black crystaline substance, that flexed as the heart beat. Slowly though, not nearly so fast as a living mans heart.

But, if one were to approach it...if one knew the words...

Havfyg bellowed, "Aal Aa Tinvaak!"

The heart glowed. He heard the familiar voice of Tidus, which drummed like Thunder in his undead state, "It seems you call me yet again. I don't suppose to return my body?"

Of course he wouldn't return his body. Havfyg had been using it as one of his deadliest assassins for the past 42 years. It was hard to kill a headless, moving corpse.

Havfyg sent a thought back, "No. I needs require you for the upcoming war. The Altmer. Something is different. I've lost a legion, with not even a scout returned to inform me. I was informed by a General Fitalos when he found their corpses impaled on stakes, like a forest of corpses."

The feeling of laughter shot up Havfygs spine. Titus's Heart said, "So it appears. A few of your Nordic champions who were pulled into the Soul Cairn said something of the matter. Prior to drinking themselves unconscious, they said they had seen Khajiit fighting alongside the Altmer. And, the attack occured at night, and some said they saw the Vampyr."

Havfyg swore an oath. He felt more laughter ripple up his spine, enough that he nearly began to chuckle himself. His eyes hardened and he said, "How are they finding such allies? I have curbed the radical sects of Elsywyr and the Vampyr do not typically make alliances."

"It's unfortunately true. Perhaps crushing the Skyrim Vampyr prior to assassinating me wasn't for the best. Oh, and maybe that Moon Sugar tax."

Havfyg waved a dismissive hand, "Every so often, I have to send a few particular Dunmer men and women. After three months, they come back with grins, bags of fingers, and notes of paper of Khajiit admitting their betrayal to the Empire and their wish to serve me, in anyway they can. I send a letter back saying the best way to serve me would be their own deaths. They are found, hung or throats slit, about five days later. I think I can do this again."

There was silence for a few moments as Titus processed all of that. "Can you just consider imprisoning them this time? Surely you're creating more radical elements this way." 

Havfyg snorted.

Titus continued, "The vampires are easier to deal with. Send orders only to attack during the day. Double nightguard. Have soldiers sleep armed and armored. Set the forests ablaze. Avoid bodies of water. Avoid mist."

Havfyg interrupted, "Well, I could send those orders I suppose. Damned well don't know if anyone will listen. Perhaps I can join the assault of the Summer Isles. I doubt they can contend with a Dovahkiin with twenty seven Dragons under his command."

Havfyg felt cold running up his spine. He realized it to be what Titus II was feeling through the soul link. He said, "Is that not a good idea?"

Titus II answered, "Well, not entirely terrible. But how will you hold control of the Empire? Some council upstart will vote himself Emperor moments after you leave. No one likes being ruled under your thumb and I've said this before, a light hand is a good hand. Like glass steel. Your hand is like that damned Ebony armor you wear."

Havfyg shrugged, "It spreads fear in my enemies."

Titus laughed, "It spreads fear in your allies."

Havfyg sighed, "Well, I only took over your Empire to kill the Altmer and bring freedom to Skyrim. I think..." He looked out towards the night sky, where Secunda and Masser rose in their fully glory, "I think it's time."

"As simple as that? Just leave? They'll hunt you until your dead."

Havfyg only smiled.	

II.

Havfyg walked down the halls of his castle, in his night clothes which consisted of nothing but a loincloth. He was in search of a privy, and he was too drunk to remember exactly where it was. So he eventually ended up in the courtyard where he stored the Argonians precious Hist Tree. There were three hooded figures, each wielding some form of weapon. An axe. A spear. A sword. They held them with what seemed like a dire purpose. And began rushing towards him, quickly.

Havfyg shouted, "Tiid Klo Ui!". Time slowed to a crawl. He casually walked towards the combatants. It wasn't fair they'd brought three. So he redirected the spear one man held into the abdomen of another. Time began to quicken. One of the assassins was screaming. Havfyg silenced him by throwing the axe he'd stolen into his skull. The other man, in the midst of realizing his sword wasn't in his hands, noticed his own sword slicing into his neck. 

The spear wielding man cursed, holding his bloodied spear in front of him. Havfyg shouted, "Yol Toor Shul!"

Fire erupted from Havfygs mouth and trailed its way up the other mans spear and then to his face. He screamed, as the skin sloughed off his skull and his skull turned to cinders that fell to the floor in piles of glowing embers. His body fell to the floor.

Havfyg examined the carnage he wrought and was satisfied. He'd thought he might have gone soft, resting in luxury as he was. He was thinking this, as a man in full steel plate turned the corner.

III.

Vitepis Arcer found himself on the ground, his Emperor standing over him. 

Havfyg said, "Oh, Vitepis. My apologies. I had three assassins trying to kill me, then you turned the corner and well. Sorry." He lifted his feet and dropped the axe he was about to embed in Vitepis's skull.

Vitepis muttered as he rose, "No problem my liege. What are your orders? Do you think there may be more assassins?"

Havfyg muttered, "No. I don't sense any. Perhaps. Scour for assassins. I'm going back to sleep.
[/hider]
[hider=Of Dreams and Nightmares]
[center][h2]Of Dreams and Nightmares[/h2][/center]
For you, in dreams, there is no rest. You fly over a landscape of lurid purples where ruined stone structures litter the landscape. Before you have time to truly take in the shattered tops of stone towers, a massive purple crystal swoops into your field of vision. In its crystalline glaze, a reptilian eye opens and focuses upon you. You hear faint whispers and, like many times in this dream, feel something on the edge of memory. Then the words come. 

"Know not. Madness. It comes. In the end, time is but the weaving. Time is but the weaving."

You open your mouth. Your tongue is dry and heavy. You try to speak, but dust comes out and before you can gasp out a word, you find that the crystaline dragon eye is shifting, whirling, until it becomes a vortex that you find yourself pulled into, pulled into.

Existence seems to tear at you. First, you're in a idyllic courtyard. Two Altmer, in lordly robes, speak. You cannot make out the words, for they when they speak, fire roars like a furnace from their mouths. Then that place is gone, and now a Nordic man stands before you upon a balcony holding a still beating heart in one hand and a black book in the other. The heart pumps furiously and he squeezes it over his face, drinking in blood. Then, you fall from the balcony, and keep falling, and keep falling...

Werewolves, clutching dismembered flesh in their jaws. The dead rising from their forgotten tombs to caper about roaring pyres. Yourself, screaming, eyes rolling back to black. A song, a song so hauntingly familiar that all you can do is laugh in wretched sobs. That laughter rolls like thunder until you're on a ship, moments before it crashes on the rocks. You fall into the ocean and are pulled by the waves, pulled deeper.

Deeper. 

You awake in your cell. 

Some of you are chained to walls, some of you are given free reign. But not too free. For between you and freedom is stone, and cold, hard iron. You know its cold, because some of you have tried to file it with your own nails. But today is different. Today feels, different. Your guard died of a heart attack, three days prior. It was very sad, but you all felt something. Hope? Perhaps. Fear? Likely.

You hear stone grinding. In another cell, appears a man, wearing red fur lined robes. His beard is straw coloured and he has a scar running down his face like a jagged thunderbolt. You recognize him as the damned Emperor who left you here to rot. He leaves the cell so he  can begin to walk down the cell block. After giving everyone a good scowl, he stands in the center of your cells and tosses a single ring into each. "Put those on. Then we'll talk."
[/hider]