It was two hundred years before the years of Jagar Tharn, and the empire seemed to be going perfectly. Other then the minor breaking of law issues, none could oppose the might of the Septims.
A storm blanketed the night sky of the Imperial City, rain pouring down on its citizens. The White Gold tower loomed over it, and standing at the top, a black leather armored figure.
However, little to the empires knowledge, a secret war was happening beneath and beyond it's cities. A war between the Warriors of the Night... branded vampires. At first, it was between many vampire clans and empires, from the most noble, to those that hid in shadow, to the insane.
The figure raised his head, light blue eyes visible with short black hair. His hands were padded in black leather gloves, while a very dark green cloak was wrapped around his neck.
Little did the vampires know, of a far greater enemy. He who lead the hounds. A period of strife came when the werewolves attacked, of war and deceit. Just as all hope seemed loss for the vampires... he came. He, the great Conspirator. He, who united the clans under one banner during the dire time of need. He, who's lessons I take after...
Lucien.
The figure leaped off the tower, his cloak making not a sound along with the rest of his body, as he silently landed in the Market District.