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 XVII

Eric dismounted from his horse and walked down the path to the Ayleid ruin of Miscarcand. It was a large surface ruin and it was absolutely amazing. Eric could hear snarls and grunts of goblins in the distance. He knew the ruin had to be infested with them.

He attempted to sneak around to Miscarcand’s door, but he failed. One of the goblins saw him near a knotted tree root and shrieked for reinforcements. In a matter of seconds, ten goblins were upon him. He blocked and dodged for several minutes; the goblins continued their intense attack on Eric.

Eric whistled a tune through the fighting and Caballus rode up, rearing back and killing a few of the goblins. They all turned their backs on him and Eric took his chance and swung his katana at them. One fell to the ground; and another and another until the war chief of the goblins was left standing. He wore a horned helmet and iron plate armor and carried a steel broadsword. Caballus was bleeding and Eric was battling with the war chief. He enjoyed himself with this fight, even though the constant threat of dying was in his mind. The war chief was battle hardened and old. All the power that the goblin was putting into his strikes was beginning to tire him, and Eric, being young, could hold him back. The goblin stepped back to catch his breath and Eric swept his leg across the ground, tripping the battered old war chief. Eric rolled forward, launched himself into the air, and stomped the war chief’s body. The goblin gave one last puff of air and died. Eric tore a piece of cloth from his undershirt and dabbed Caballus’ wounds.

Inside the dark ruin, Eric pulled an old torch from his pack and lit it. He soon would wish he hadn’t, because what he saw was absolutely horrifying. Desiccated corpses of travelers and adventurers alike, were hanging from the ancient ceiling by their ankles with their hands tied behind their backs. One’s entrails were hanging from its rotting belly; another’s head was hanging by a small piece of flesh on its neck. This sight and smell were absolutely revolting; Eric had to hold his breath through the room.

Deeper and deeper into the ruin he went, creeping past goblins along the way. He soon came upon a door that had the old Ayleid language etched into it. The carving said ‘Morimath’. He slid the heavy stone slab of a door to the right and entered the darkest of all the rooms he had been in.

As soon as he walked in, his torch went out by a heavy draft. He attempted to relight it, but no success came to him; it was just too damp in there. He continued to feel his way down the pitch black hallway in search of the Great Welkynd Stone. He took a left and then a right. He never liked the dark, because he never knew what could be there and he wouldn’t be able to protect himself.

There was a dim light in the distance, several paces away. He snuck towards it. In the next room, he saw a beautifully crafted stone, floating above a plinth. He carefully moved along the Ayleid stone floor, to the item that floated before him. The room was bleached in light from the Welkynd stone; Eric glanced around, making sure there were no traps he could set off by picking the stone from its floating position.

He grabbed it and behind him, the wall opened up, revealing a flying body. It appeared to be a king of some sort; then, Eric realized that the body floating towards him was a lich, a powerful undead creature with a repertoire of magic beyond that of the greatest wizard. It pulled its staff from its back and pointed it at Eric. His heart was racing; he had never faced anything so powerful. He readied himself for a fight. The staff shot a bolt of lightning and Eric rolled away from the plinth. The bolt hit a metal grate behind him and exploded. Eric had to think quick on his feet, something he thought he was pretty good at. He charged at the lich, but with a wave of its hand, threw Eric into the wall. Eric jumped up with his blade held high and he swung with all of his strength. The lich hissed and shot backward, throwing itself into the wall. Eric chuckled at the stupidity of something so intelligent. The staff and the lich fell to the ground and Eric ran the lich through with his blade.

Eric, satisfied at yet another victory against a great foe, snuck back through the cold, damp ruin and into the warm night.

He jumped onto the back of his great and noble steed, Caballus, and rode off into the night on his way to his mountain hideaway…