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 XVI

Eric rode up the temple steps and dismounted from his horse. He went inside the great hall. Martin looked up from his work and gave him a nod and a smile. Eric sauntered over to the table and held Tiber Septim’s armor in front of Martin. His jaw dropped.

“I may have the blood of the Septims, but you have the soul of a hero, my dear friend,” he said. Baurus was back and doing his usual duty, guarding Martin. Steffan burst through the doors of the great hall. He was shouting.

“Martin! Martin! There are Daedra outside the walls! We shut the gate before they could enter. It’s mostly Dremora down there.” Baurus yanked his katana out of its sheath; Martin grabbed the Mysterium Xarxes and shoved it in the folds of his robes. Eric ran outside; the gate was being rammed again and again. Eric knew the gate wouldn’t last long, so he yelled for all of the Blades. He told them to arrange in lines along the steps and be ready to push back the opposing forces.

Just then, the gate fell to the ground and the Blades rushed their opponents. The battle raged on for hours; the Dremora had pushed the Blades back into the courtyard and the stone became soaked with blood. The leader of the attack had Steffan dangling off the battlements by his neck; he was laughing maniacally. Eric charged at him with his sword drawn. He shoved the blade deep into the Dremora’s back; Steffan was let go and he grabbed the battlements. Eric didn’t have enough time to hoist Steffan back up and he slipped, falling to the craggy mountain side. He landed on a protruding, sharp rock and it impaled him. He did not move or twitch at all.

Eric went into complete and total rage and swung his sword. It decapitated several of the Dremora, they all fell to the blood soaked earth of the garden. He alone killed half of the Dremora and the Blades butchered the rest. Eric ran inside the great hall and saw Martin in a corner surrounded by ten Blades. Eric tore a piece of cloth from a tunic on a table and wiped the blood from his sword.

He informed the men that Steffan had perished during the fight. They sheathed their weapons and kneeled to pray for him. After they were done, the men said they were glad to have served under Steffan and that they would like to give him the position of their captain. Eric accepted.

“I would accept this honor, my friends,” Eric said sadly. He had always liked Steffan; now he was dead. They decided to retrieve Steffan’s body from the mountain and give him a burial ceremony. Over the next couple of hours, the Blades had dumped the bodies of the Dremora over the battlements and cleaned the blood from the immaculate stonework.

Eric told them he needed a small contingent of guards, along with Baurus, to accompany him and Martin to Eric’s safe haven. They formed up around Martin and went up the steep mountain path.

They reached the large alcove in the mountain just before dawn broke. The men made a makeshift gate, to cover the huge opening they entered in, with all the spare wood Eric had there.

Martin sat at a table and began to decipher the Xarxes. He was shaking badly; it was because everyone around him was dying, from the Kvatch townspeople to Steffan. It was all so nerve-racking. Eric asked Martin how far he had deciphered the Xarxes.

“I have figured out another component needed to access Mankar Camoran’s Paradise,” he said, still quivering. “We need a great Welkynd stone, Eric. They have been plundered one by one over the years, due to their great value to mages and occultists. There is only one more place rumored to still have one. It is the Ayleid ruin of Miscarcand. It is located in between the cities of Kvatch and Skingrad, somewhere in the wilderness.”

Eric said he would return shortly and hopped on Caballus. He then rode to Miscarcand…