When Fire Dies, The Aftermath of Oblivion Options

[Thomas Kaira]

Preface: Unfortunately, it appears that I am all out of ideas for Light Through Darkness, and the only way I'm going to break free of this writers block is by starting from scratch. So here we are, starting afresh.

The idea behind this story: what happens after Oblivion ends? There are a number of questions that end up unanswered when the game ends, and so I have decided to take a shot at answering them. This tale will follow the lives of three people at the start of the Fourth Era, each with their own part to play, and each one answering a question that Oblivion left dangling:

Sercala “Sera” Indoran: A landowner in the town of Weye
Veritas Marellius: The Hero of Kvatch, and Champion of Cyrodiil
Savlian Matius: Captain of the Kvatch City Guard

I hope you enjoy the read!

When Fire Dies

Prologue: End of an Era

Blackened clouds laced with red lightning obscured the white city. So the rumors were true, Sera thought to herself as she settled, entranced, onto the grassy cliffside. The glory of the Talos Aqueduct began nearby, fed by the Charcoal Spring and drawn forth by the nearby waterfalls. The glorious white-granite construct of tapered arches stretched as far as the eye could see across the clear blue waves of Lake Rumare. The waterfalls nearby filled the air with the glorious noise of summer rain upon rock and stone, the fine mists bringing forth the magnificent arc of all-colored joy. Such mesmerizing beauty it was, enough to bring a grand smile across Sera’s ashen face, setting the fire of her Dunmer eyes alight as its radiance dispelled all traces of Azura’s curse upon her people. People always said she had a beautiful smile, and she was inclined to believe them.

But today was different. The majesty of the Heartland summer was spoiled by the sooty black clouds masking the crown jewel of a once Adamantium-strong Empire in their choking grasp. Cyrodiil knew those clouds well now; they came alongside the many Gates to the Deadlands that threatened to tear the province asunder. Kvatch, City of the Wolf, lies in ruins, and most of the major outlying cities of Cyrodiil, at some point in time, were themselves threatened by the presence of their flaming lens. Each Gate, like a great eye, lidless, wreathed in flame, was a blight upon the countryside, and a terror to all who befell them. And now, they had found their way inside the white walls of the great Imperial City.

Suddenly, the entire sky darkened, and blood-red lightning spilled from the sky with earsplitting thunderclaps. Sera could see the city again, but what she saw nearly stopped her heart.

----

The four-armed giant let forth a guttural bellow, and with a single stroke of his axe, he tossed aside five Legion soldiers like rag dolls. Their screams of pain and shock reverberated though the deafening noise of battle and the gentle screaming of the nearby Gates to Oblivion. The giant then let forth an earsplitting roar as he turned to face a man with lank brown hair dressed in ornately decorated purple robes laced with full cuffs of fluffy white fur. A man adorned in the ornate, yet purposeful armor of the Blades stepped in front of the man in robes, his katana gleaming with blood and magic as the mists of the North Wind blossomed from its blade.

“Is that…?” the man in Blades armor murmured.

“No…” the man in robes replied, in barely more of a whisper, “no, no, no… we’re too late.”

“Is that Dagon?!” The armored man then shouted out.

“It is!” The robed man responded, his face whiter than Secunda’s. “Mehrunes Dagon walks upon Mundus! The barriers are gone. Oblivion and Nirn are now one with each other!”

“Does this mean we can’t light the Dragonfires to stop this anymore, Martin?!” Another armored figure cried out, slicing his katana through the stomach of a scamp trying to claw its way through his greaves.

“No, Baurus, the barriers are gone! The Dragonfires will solve nothing now!” Martin replied, fingering the massive red gem of the amulet around his neck.

“So what now?!” The other man shouted, his eyes shifting to a charging black-skinned giant wielding a vicious double-headed axe that looked to be forged from the very fires from whence he came.

“We still have but one option, Veritas,” Martin replied, tearing his amulet from around his neck. “But first, you must see me safely to the temple!”

A massive crunching noise bespoke of the black-skinned giant’s axe crashing to the paved street surrounding the great domed structure of the Temple of the One, grazing Veritas’ breastplate and causing him to flinch back. He responded by striking out with his katana in a vicious slice across the creature’s exposed weapon arm as it tried to dig its axe out of the stone. As he watched the blade cleave through the creature’s skin and flesh, the frigid magic of the North Wind coursed through the blade, freezing shut the wound as over half the creature’s arm became iced over at the same time. A split-second later, Veritas stomped down on the frozen limb, and witnessed it shatter completely. The creature’s axe remained suspended in the street, dug into the stone where the creature had brought it down. The black-skinned monstrosity then let out a low roar of pain and rage as Veritas removed a small scroll from within his armor. He unfurled it, glancing down upon the Daedric characters scribed upon the parchment, and willed its Magicka into his own. The glyphs then began to glow white, and at that signal, Veritas grasped the scroll into his hand tightly, and pointed his hand towards the hulking, blackened giant.

A surge of lightning coursed from his body and into the creature, throwing it to the ground, where Baurus was waiting to finish it off with a thrust through the mouth. Veritas then threw the charred scroll to the ground and grabbed Martin by the arm.

“We’d better move now! These streets are getting far too dangerous!” Veritas shouted out, nearly tearing Martin’s arm from its socket as he tugged him towards the Temple.

----

Sera’s eyes were transfixed upon the great, lumbering beast with four arms. She watched him stomp the ground, and cringed as the resulting tremors found their way to her. Not two seconds later, a massive swing from his axe completely demolished a smaller building nearby the domed Temple. She could just hear the screams of terror over the frequent crashing of thunder from the fiery lightning that arced constantly through the blackened skies.

A loud snorting brought her eyes away from the spectacle of battle and destruction across the lake. A majestic black horse was prancing and rolling its eyes. It looked ready to flee at first shift of the wind. Sera rose from her seat on the Cliffside and approached the spooking horse.

“Shhhhh,” she spoke softly, wrapping her arms around the horse’s neck and bringing her own face close. “It’s okay Vertullian, no one can hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

The gelding continued to snort in displeasure, but at Sera’s touch, he calmed his feet and stood still. Sera then reached up to grab a small tuft of his long mane, and gently massaged his neck, drawing a circle with her hand. Every so often, she would move her hand up and repeat the same movement on a small tuft of mane closer to the horse’s head. The horse responded by slowly dipping his head as the frequency of his uneasy snorts slowed.

“You don’t like this weather, do you,” Sera spoke softly to Vertullian. “I don’t either. Let’s stay close; I need you just as much as you need me right now.”

As Vertullian’s breathing slowed, Sera fingered the steel-eared shortbow slung across her back, finding additional comfort in the gently curving staff and the taught flax string tied across the shined ears. If any Daedra come for us, she thought, I’ll be ready.

----

Veritas slammed the doors of the Temple shut as Martin dashed inside, the hems of his ornate robes flapping wildly. The small gash across his platemail where the Xivilai had struck him was beginning to smart, but he paid no heed to it. His mind was on Martin.

“So the barriers are dispelled completely,” Veritas gasped once he had bolted shut the mahogany portals. “Might I ask what good the Amulet will have for us now?”

“There is one other way,” Martin replied, a strange look in his eye as he fingered the Amulet. The flickering glow, the one that made it look as though flames inhabited the Amulet, had been restored when Martin first placed the chain around his neck. But the look in his eyes was unnerving. What exactly did he plan to do? Veritas wondered.

“You know of the history of the Amulet of Kings, yes?” Martin asked of Veritas.

“Handed down to Saint Alessia by Akatosh, it has become the symbol of the Empire and mark of the true blood,” Veritas replied. “But why is that important?”

“Because the Flame of Akatosh resides within this jewel,” Martin replied. “A true Aedric enchantment, like nothing the world has ever seen elsewhere. Within lies the power of Akatosh the Everlasting himself. Only this power is enough to banish Dagon back to whence he came.”

“But that would mean…” Veritas began, but then he paused, utterly stunned at what he was hearing. “There is truly no other way?” He inquired slowly once he had regained his composure.

“I do so wish there was,” Martin responded, a hollow smile crossing his face. “Greet the new age well, my friend. I thank you for everything you have done for me… in the short time I have known you.”

A resounding crash echoed through the temple at that precise moment. Veritas watched in horror as a colossal axe was removed from the gaping hole in the stone domed roof, the tusks and fangs of Dagon showing through on the other side. Veritas locked eyes with Martin, where he saw unmistakable determination and will burning like the flame within the great red jewel clutched in Martin’s hands. Martin then spoke to Veritas… one last time.

“Now I must go. The dragon waits.”

With that, he dashed to the pedestal where the Dragonfires once burned. As Dagon peeled away the remains of the temple roof, Martin looked right into the eyes of the Daedric Lord, raised the amulet in his fist, and smashed it upon the ground. One violent flash of golden light later, he was gone.

----

The sound of rushing wind broke the Dunmer’s stupor as she watched the blackness rush away back towards the Imperial Isle, blue sky replacing the ash-filled clouds around her. Everywhere she looked, conduits of dark energy could be seen lacing the countryside as they streamed inwards like black rivers flowing into the great Lake Rumare. Even now, Sera could see the black cloud surrounding the city was shrinking, and White Gold Tower was beginning to show through the top once again.

But the tower was unlike Sera had ever seen it before. As the top of the tower showed through, a great beam of bluish-white light rose from the top, rising into the heavens. As the blackness grew smaller, the light grew brighter, until at last the dome of the tower’s base once again became visible and Sera could see exactly what was happening. The blackness was being sucked inwards towards the tower, which was then turning the darkness to light before it was thrown back into the skies… Oblivion was being banished from this world. When the last river of blackness vanished, and the last of the light surrounding the tower faded, a new light came to replace it, this light in the form of a golden orb forming atop the spire in the center of the white city. Seconds later, the light coalesced into a definable shape… the shape of a dragon.

“Akatosh…” Sera whispered, following the flaming shape downward as he swooped in to strike at the figure of Mehrunes Dagon.

----

It was all Veritas could do to remain standing as he watched the great Titans clash. Aedra vs. Daedra, locked in battle for the very future of Mundus, one fighting to conquer, the other to save. Dagon brought his great axe smashing into the fiery dragon’s chest, provoking a screech of pain as Dagon followed with a massive fist to the dragon’s maw. Wasting no time, the dragon took to the wing, flames roaring from its mouth. Veritas could swear that he heard the dragon talking as the fire came forth, though it was in no language he could hope to understand. Dagon was shielding himself from the deadly blaze, and when the dragon dashed away with a flap of its massive wings, he was dumbfounded as to where it went. Not even Veritas could see what happened to the dragon; he turned his head every which way trying to find it once again.

Then, with a massive roar, the dragon came pelting out of nowhere, locking its jaws around Dagon’s neck. Dagon roared in pain and rage as the dragon’s vice-like maw closed, his clawed feet tearing away at Dagon’s chest at the same time. Then, with another massive gasp of flame from the fiery creature, Dagon vanished in a brilliant flash of golden light as the victorious dragon perched itself atop the pedestal where the Dragonfires once burned bright.

The dragon then shifted its gaze… it looked right into Veritas’ eyes. At that moment, he knew exactly who the dragon once was. But before he could speak, the dragon gave one last resounding roar, a roar of victory and finality as he spread his wings, and he turned to stone where he stood.

“The Amulet is shattered,” Martin’s voice then resounded through Veritas’ mind. “Dagon is defeated. With the dragon’s blood and the Amulet of Kings we have sealed the Gates of Oblivion… forever.”

Images of the pastoral vistas and serene lakes of Cyrodiil then replaced those of destruction and death in Veritas’ eyes. He saw everything that he had fought for… that so many had died for, in search of a future without fear. A future now realized… but at such a heavy price.

“The last of the Septims passes now into history. I go gladly, for I know my sacrifice is not in vain. I take my place with my father, and my father’s fathers. The Third Age has ended, and the new age dawns. When the next Elder Scroll is written, you shall be its scribe. The shape of the future; the fate of the Empire… these things, now, belong to you.”

This post has been edited by Thomas Kaira: Jul 14 2011, 06:01 PM

[Thomas Kaira]

@rider: Oh noes! It appears I did!

Don't worry, though, I will still enjoy your rendition of the end of the Crisis immensely, as will everyone else here. Don't you dare let this rendition get in your way, in fact, I really do believe you can do it better than I did. The prologue was only to firmly set the time period of this story. The real meat is in what comes next.

@Ceidwad: Mr. Truth indeed! Many sincere apologies for not glancing at your writing for so long, and I will rectify that as soon as I can. I'm glad you are enjoying the tale so far, even if it's just one segment.
Nit picked.

@Acadian: Thank you for the elated welcome back! Yup, them dragons are show-stealers, and I'm sure that will give the coming Skyrimmers plenty to write about (so long as Bethesda doesn't overdo the dragons like they did the Oblivion Gates).
Latter nit picked. The former I decided to leave because, essentially, Lake Rumare IS a sea, just like the Great Lakes are technically seas, as well.

@Destri: Be as long-winded as you like, I always enjoy a good analysis of my writing. Thank you for your suggestions. I am so humbled that you enjoyed the segment as much as you did, too.

I will definitely be taking into account your suggestions. A writer has to write to get better, after all.

@King Coin: Really? Wow!
Glad to see you on board!

@Grits: Indeed it is, with Skyrim around the corner, I really wanted to get going with closing out Oblivion in preparation for the big day... not only for me, but for everyone else willing to join in on the fun, as well.

@mALX: Thank you for your very kind words!

Part 1: Kvatch Rebuilt

Chapter 1-1: Memories

“Lady Sera,” the Dunmer maiden called out across the marble-walled manor entrance hall. “Someone to see you!”

“Who is it?” Sera replied, striding into the elegantly decorated room. A number of display cases lined the walls, each filled with exquisite artifacts of Ayleid and Dwemer origin, as well as a handsome set of steel armor shined to a keen polish. The armor was embroidered with many patterns reminding of waves at sea, and upon the hilt of the matching blade was engraved the initials ‘B. A.’ Sera herself was wearing a simple outfit of blue and green linens with comfortable quilted shoes.

“Savlian Matius,” the maiden replied.

“Savlian?!” Sera exclaimed, her pace quickening as she flung open the mahogany front doors to greet the ruffled, grizzled Imperial. “When did you get here?”

“Just now, lady,” Savlian replied, bowing slightly.

“Please, It’s just Sera to you,” Sera responded. “What are you doing here? Please do come in. Would you like some tea?”

“No, thank you,” Savlian said softly, stepping through the doorway into the warm, welcoming entrance hall. His eyes wandered for a few seconds before turning back to Sera.

“You’ve certainly been taking care of yourself,” he spoke. “How did you get the money to afford all this?”

“It’s a very long story,” Sera replied, her eyes wandering away from the simply dressed Imperial’s face.

“I see,” Savlian said after a moment’s awkward silence as he allowed the maiden to steer him into the dining hall.

“Are you sure about that tea?” The maiden asked. “Marshmerrow laced with Comberry juice.”

Savlain raised an eyebrow towards Sera upon hearing the recipe.

“You’ve never even tasted Morrowind before, have you?” She spoke, grinning at the bemused look upon Savlian’s face.

“And all the better for it, I reckon,” he replied.

“Come on, try it!” Sera responded, giggling slightly. “It’s almost like chamomile with lemon juice to you.”

“Well… fine,” Savlian replied, signaling the maiden to hurry away into the basement.

“Anyways, knowing you, you didn’t come all the way here from Kvatch for tea and biscuits,” Sera spoke after a moment of silence. “Why are you here, Savlian?”

“You’ve just put your finger on it,” Savlian replied, finding himself a seat at the stained teak table. “Kvatch.”

“Then why come to me?” Sera responded, her voice becoming grave slightly hoarse. “I’ve worked so hard to put that part of my life behind me. Why should I go back now?”

“Because the city needs your help,” Savlian spoke.

“To do what?” Sera snapped, “To dig through rubble for corpses to burn? You, of all people, should know what it is like, Savlian. To go to bed at night and hear the screaming, see the flames, watch as that… thing… tore through the gates and set fire to the chapel.”

“Please,” Savlian replied quickly, “Now is not the time to reminisce on the past. It’s over. Saint Martin sacrificed all for us to be free of the Daedra.”

“It was never over,” Sera spoke shakily. “Stop deluding yourself, Savlian. You, of all people, should know this.”

The next silence lasted for several minutes. When the maiden returned from the basement, she gave a small shudder as if the elegant dining hall had frozen over. She quickly gave over the two porcelain cups of marshmerrow tea before returning to the basement.

“You are an honest man, Savlian,” Sera spoke after the maiden left. “Brave, but never foolish, and loyal enough to rival a wolf to pups. Have you truly moved on?”

Savlian looked deep into Sera’s eyes, where he found his answer. “No,” he spoke slowly, “though I do so wish it were otherwise.

“But please, Sera, just consider what I came here to say,” Savlian continued. “The city must be rebuilt, and it shall be. Kvatch has risen from ashes before and she will do it again. But we need your help.”

“Why do I find that hard to believe,” Sera interrupted, a flicker of annoyance in her voice.

“Believe it,” Savlian replied intensely. “I know what you are capable of, the fact you remain alive after your solitary sojourn is proof enough. You may be unwilling to forget the past, despite your talk of ‘moving on,’ but understand that we still have to look to the future.”

“And what do you see in that future, Savlian,” Sera quipped rather harshly, “besides Kvatch rebuilt?”

It took some time for Savlian to find his words again.

“Listen,” he began, “I know how you felt when you managed to escape the burning city alive; I felt the same way. I cannot tell you how sorry I am that I couldn’t be there to help you, but you know what it was like.”

“It’s always duty with you,” Sera replied, her voice low and quiet, “duty and the greater good. Why couldn’t you have put your head aside for one night and listened to your heart?”

Savlian heaved a sigh. “Old habits die hard, Sera,” he responded.

A short silence followed his words.

“What is it you need done?” Sera then inquired.

“So you would be willing to help?” Savlian responded, eyebrows raised in mild surprise.

“Yes,” Sera replied, taking her teacup in her hand. “You are right, you know,” she continued after taking a sip, “This is one part of my life I need to close.”

“Well, at the very least I hope you will remember the times before the fall,” Savlian spoke, raising his own mug to his lips. At these words, Sera gently touched the grizzled man’s cheek.

“I’ll never forget,” she spoke softly. “You said it yourself.”

“This is… this is pretty good stuff, by the way,” Savlian suddenly quipped, raising his voice.

Sera chuckled while removing her hand. “I thought you’d like it,” she replied, giving Savlian a small smile.

This post has been edited by Thomas Kaira: Jul 13 2011, 07:34 PM