I just wrote this short story and left it on the Main Site. The 'Emporer' is Bethesda. I feel the a great era has ended in TES, and we may all have to look elsewhere for a good game.
The Hooded man is all of us, whether we praise or criticize.
Throngs of Citizens gathered in the Temple District of the Imperial City to mourn the passing of their Emperor. Some loved the man, others detested him. Most were indifferent to him throughout his reign, concerned only with their own affairs.
But they were all here for the same reason, to remember a man who had passed on in an assassination. Perhaps the citizenry were afraid that they would not be remembered in there own passing, and this was an investment in their own future demise.
The High Elf Cleric woman gave a beautiful soliloquy from her dais, remembering the Emperors good works, inciting Akatosh to save the souls of himself and his sons.
Though the crowd had grown from inside the Temple of the One, and out into the streets, there was a mysterious figure that skulked through the people, wearing black robes and a matching black hood, which was strange for a sunny day as this, but no one took notice of him until he jumped clear and landed on a ledge of the Temple.
Excited murmurs of the acrobatic feat, took over the crowd. While hecklers yelled at the man to get down, and not to ruin the Emperors memorial. The hooded man was oblivious to all, only his chin and mouth visible from the hood drawn down.
“Ye wretches!” the man said. His voice echoing and permeating the crowd.
“Within this place, silence falls upon the voice of the true followers! While the heckle and commerce of the satisfied cattle moans over the dying gasps of the Reverent Few!”
“They take your children from your homes in the middle of the night. And you say nothing.”
”They slit the throat of your brothers and fathers, and you grow quiet in fear!”
“It is only the fear that is their true power! You yourselves have allowed this travesty, this mockery of progress and tradition that once named the people great!”
”DISSENT, DISSENT!! Let the voice of the people be heard!! When they take us, we can come back anew! When they silence our voice, we shall yell!”
Twenty Imperial Guardsman gathered around crowd, steel bows drawn, and arrows ready at the draw. The Captain gave the order to fire, and the sounds of a score of arrows whistled through the air.
The hooded man was mortally wounded, but with his dying breath, he looked up to the heavens, and whispered.
“I served you for years, and yet you are the one who cuts me down. But my love will free you yet,…..”
The Black Cloth of the apparel fluttered from the ledge to the ground, a large hole grew in the crowd as it slowly fell onto the ground, chock full of arrows.
And as the citizens gathered around the pile, hands grabbed naught but cloth.
The man had completely disappeared.
For every Freedom, a Law. For every Law, a Crime. For every King, a Rebel.