The Northern Champion, a story of Eric Snowmane Options

[Lord Veneficus]

This is basically the main quest but I've added and changed it around .

PART I

As a young Nordic man, Eric was a poor miner. He grew tired of waking up every morning and working his fingers to the bone, but he did it to put food on the table.

A few years had passed when his parents died of a terrible disease. The only thing he had left was the little cabin his parents had built when he was born. He worked at the mines for several more months and quit. He left Skyrim a few years later.

He then traveled to Cyrodiil to try his hand at the Arena in the Imperial City. After his first victory against an Argonian, he immediately grew attracted to the sport. He steadily rose through the ranks until he had reached Hero status. He then had to face the best the green team had to offer, Felius Redoran, a Dark Elf with a nasty mace called Dagon's Fist. Eric defeated Felius with a well placed blow to his head. Eric had finally become the Champion of the Arena! He then challenged Bartholomeo, the Grand Champion. The match started off with blades colliding and sparks flying. The match lasted at least an hour and Bartholomeo and Eric grew fatigued. Eric's armor was falling off from all the slits in it.

Then Eric swung his blade, it was sloppy but he timed it just right. The flat of Eric's blade broke Bartholomeo's arm with a deafening crack. He fell to the ground and started to yell in an agonizing tone. The crowd was screaming,"Cut his throat! Cut his throat!"

Eric stuck the blade to Bartholomeo's neck and gave a powerful pull. Blood poured out of the wound. He was dead. Eric had become the Grand Champion. He lifted his bloodied sword and let out a battle cry. People started calling him the Crimson Blade and he liked it.

Eric "The Crimson Blade" Snowmane purchased himself a quaint little home in the waterfront of the Imperial City. He was drinking a tall glass of mead, when he heard a knock at the door.

"Excuse me, sir," a legionnaire said." I've received a report that you murdered Hondar Ferano, a High Elf that resides in the Temple District."

"What?!" Eric shouted."I've murdered no one, I've been framed!"

"We have a witness, 'Crimson Blade'," the soldier argued."Come with me, you are under arrest."

It had been two years since that dreadful day. It was a regular prison day, thrashings and one meal, when two heavily armed soldiers and their captain came to the door of his cell. Someone else was standing behind them. It looked like Emperor Septim!

"Prisoner," the captain said. "I'm Captain Renault. You need to stand aside, I won't hesitate to kill you if you get in our way." Eric stepped to the side and Captain Renault walked over and pushed a stone ten rows from the floor. What sounded like stone grinding against stone was Eric's bed disappearing into the floor, and the wall next to his bed was actually a door leading into what looked like an ayleid ruin under the city.

"Looks like this is your lucky day, prisoner. I'm Baurus and that man over there is Glardmir," he said. "Stay close behind and don't do anything you'll regret." They weren't even within two minutes of their trek when they were attacked by men in gray robes. Eric didn't have a weapon so he fought with his hands. He snapped a two of the men's necks and broke the other man's shin. After the battle Baurus said," That was amazing! Where did you learn to fight so well with your fists?"

"Baurus don't give a low-life that kind of admiration!" Glardmir said." Captain Renault's dead, where's the Emperor?"

[Lord Veneficus]

PART VIII

“Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes, eh?” Tar-Meena asked as she opened the book and skimmed the pages. Eric stuck out like a sore thumb in the room full of blue robed mages fluttering about. They all looked at him as though he was monster. This angered him slightly that they would judge someone just because of their race, but he kept his composure.

“Can we take this outside in the courtyard, please?” Eric asked.

“Of course, I understand what you’re going through,” Tar-Meena whispered in Eric’s ear as they exited the Mystic Archives. “When I was just an apprentice, they looked at me as if they wanted to spear me in the chest.”

“The commentaries are a series of books and they have a code inside of them. I cannot tell you what the code is until you retrieve all four copies of it.” She pulled a book with the same blue cover and handed it to Eric. “Here is the second copy. Go to the First Edition in the Market District, Phintias is sure to have the third and fourth.” Eric took the book and left.

It was getting late and Eric decided to go to a local tavern. He was sitting at a table in a dark corner of the room and he overheard several men talking amongst one another. “… and what if that warrior that broke your leg finds out about this?” One of the men said as he took a swig of mead.

“I wouldn’t be worried; he probably didn’t make it out of…” He was cut off.

“You honoured user! I can’t believe you made it out of there alive!” It was Eric; he had his sword unsheathed, ready to swing at any of the men who decided to charge at him.

“H… how did you get out of there?” the man stuttered, he was sweating and all the men at the table had a look of absolute terror on their faces.

“It doesn’t matter. Tell your master that I’m coming for him and the Amulet so he better be prepared.” Eric put his blade back into its sheath and left the tavern; the men were still sitting there awestruck at what just happened.

Eric decided to lay his bedroll behind a thick row of bushes and sleep there for the night. He knew those men would make an attempt to kill him if he stayed at an inn.

He woke the next morning and went to the First Edition. He asked whether the third copy of the Commentaries was there and Phintias said that a wood elf had reserved the only copy he had.

“If you like you can wait here and speak to him when he arrives,” Phintias said. Then the wood elf walked in, wearing green silk robes and his hair in a pony-tail.

“I’m here to get my copy of the Commentaries,” he said. Phintias handed him the book and the wood elf thanked him.

“Excuse me, how much do you want for that book?” Eric inquired. The wood elf had the snobbiest expression on his face.

“I’m sorry, but this book is not for sale,” he answered with his nose turned upwards.

“How does two hundred gold sound?”

“Well that sounds wonderful!” the wood elf said, his snobby expression was gone in a flash. “But I need it so I can study its contents.”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Eric said. “The cult you are trying to join killed the emperor!”

“I… I don’t know what to say. They were the ones… oh my,” he said.

“Yeah, now give me the book,” Eric demanded. The wood elf handed him the book and a note.

“That note is from one of the sponsors of the cult, you can only get the last copy of the book from him.” He said.

“Thank you, now go!” the wood elf scurried out of there like he was being chased by a bear. Eric was on his way back to Luther Broad’s Boarding House.