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 XIX

At the castle, Eric stepped up to the countess. She was sitting in her throne with five guards surrounding her.

“Countess Narina, I have come from the orders of Martin Septim, soon-to-be emperor,” Eric said. She looked up from her book to listen to him. “He would like to know when you will be ready to launch the attack on the great gate. If you wish to speak to him personally, he will be in the chapel. I know we will win this battle with the leadership of Martin.” Eric couldn’t help but feel like he was lying to her. She nodded and stood from her throne and walked out of the castle. Eric was right behind her.

In the chapel, Narina was speaking with Martin. Eric couldn’t make it out but it sounded important; then again, everything was important at that time. Then, Martin called Eric over.

“Eric, whenever you are ready, we will be as well,” Martin said with a sad smile. Eric turned to Narina, who was nodding her head in agreement. She bowed her head in a silent prayer and looked up at Eric.

“You are the only one who speaks of victory, Eric,” she said. Her smile brought a small amount happiness to him. He wanted to stop the Oblivion Crisis for her and the rest of Tamriel. “I have heard a great many things about you. You are a warrior… a hero to all.”

Eric thanked her for the kind words and told Martin he was ready to launch the attack. They all exited the chapel and made their way towards the gate of Bruma. Everyone was cheering for Martin. Baurus and a few of the other Blades were behind him, their faces were of pure gloom.

They were walking down the snow covered road, everything was so peaceful. Nature had not yet caught up with the battle about to precede Eric and his fellow companions. He prayed to Kynareth, goddess of air, thanking her for the wonderful bounty of nature which was about to be ripped from its life.

There were thousands of men lined up at the first minor gate, ready for anything that came from it. Martin squeezed past all of them and stood in front of the enormous amount of soldiers before him.

“Men! Today, I stand before you hoping to eliminate the Daedra wishing to rule over us and make us their servants! Not now, not ever. Will we let them kill our families? Will we let them raze our cities to the ground? I want you all to fight your hardest today! This will be the most perilous battle ever fought on Tamrielic soil. You men are the last hope for the cities of Cyrodiil. Do not let them get to the walls of Bruma! May the Nine be with us all,” Martin said. His speech moved the entire group of men. Eric sensed a great aura coming from them.

Then, the gate made a sound; several hundred Dremora burst through the portal and the battle begun.

Swords collided and flesh was torn; arrows whizzed past heads and pierced hearts. Armor clanged as swords and shields alike pounded into one another. Eric was fighting along side Martin, the Blades kept anything from laying a finger on him. Eric saw a large man wearing the strange armor of the Mythic Dusk and carrying a bound Daedric war hammer. Eric charged at the giant of a man. He pulled his war hammer back and slammed it upon the blackened ground, throwing Eric down. He jumped back to his feet and rolled from the next swing of the great hammer. Black dust flew into the air and clouded Eric’s vision, giving the man enough time swing at him. Eric felt the wind come off of the first attack and ducked. The dust had faded into the red sky and Eric could see again. He ran towards the man; he threw his arm into Eric and he soared ten feet into the air, landing on the charred remains twenty feet away. He stumbled to his feet once more; the man had thrown the war hammer to the ground and summoned a claymore, which he held in one hand. The blade arced through the air and Eric pulled his shield above his head. The power of the blow almost made Eric’s knees buckle; he leaned forward hard and the man backed up. With his sword drawn, Eric slashed at the man’s body. He shouted in pain and swung his claymore at Eric. The two blades collided; the strain on Eric’s arms was great. The man was laughing. Eric thought they laughed quite a bit. The man pulled his sword back for another blow and Eric thrusted his katana into the man’s sword arm. He dropped the heavy claymore and it hit the ground with a loud clang. He groped his gashed arm and cursed at Eric.

“Damn you, Champion! Dagon will have his fun with you! This I swear,” he ran back into the portal of hell.

The great gate had opened and Eric rushed through the crowds of men, knocking Dremora to the ground in the process. He threw his trusty dagger into the throat of one of the assassins and dove into the gate.

Inside, Eric saw something that looked like an enormous walking castle. It was slowly crawling towards the threshold of the gate; it was throwing flames in every direction. Eric knew he would have to work fast…