Martin Dergius, Green Emperor Way.

It had been a traumatic twenty minutes for Martin as he trotted through Green Emperor Way. Animated skeleton guards had been lounging against White Gold Tower, nonchalantly chatting. Dream or no, superstitious icons of regional folklore weren't the sort of thing he wanted to deal with, so he skirted around them by ducking below nearby tombstones and scuttling away. Apart from the walking bone-yards, he hadn't seen anything else living for better or worse. He shivered again at the thought of the rat that had been in the temple. The place was just... dead. Destitute. Rubble, ruin and wreckage. Peering around a stone wall, he shot a glance up one of the flights of stairs that led to White Gold Tower - the Emperor's palace. Well. It used to be anyway. The skeletons were on the other side of the structure out of sight.

Even the noble symbol of Imperial might itself had been desecrated and sullied. Great holes had been bashed through its sturdy walls high up, as if by siege engines. Perception seemed different here too. Things changed fluidly without any apparent transition. He squinted at the masonry and tried to remember if it had always been made of that horrible black material. He thought a moment ago it had been a clean cream colour? He shivered again and averted his eyes from the dark bastion before him. He scurried on, towards the market district gate. If the market district wasn't the heart of the city, it was certainly the soul. If anyone was here, it would probably be there. Plus there was his house. He needed something familiar and comforting as a refuge from this nightmare.

Cautiously he pushed open the gate. The hinges were ill-repaired from their usual balanced state and screeched jarringly from the motion. Martin winced then slipped through. "Stop right there, criminal scum!" came the bellow from behind him. He jumped out of his skin and wheeled about, hands raised defensively. There was a stranger in a crimson robe stood behind him with an Imperial broadsword drawn. Seeing his face, it sheafed the weapon again. "Thought you were someone else." Martin shuddered at the sight of the pitted blade. The stranger's face was bathed in shadows - imperceptible to the human eye. "You however... We were expecting you. You're an odd one, you know that? Trying to swim against the current, only to discover it's lava, not water. If you die here, you'll be slipping away in reality too."

Martin blustered for a moment, before snorting and replying indignantly. "You are a mere projection of my under mind. This is an unsettling nightmare and nothing more. No doubt I'll awake in the morning feeling refreshed and-..." The stranger unsheafed the blade again and savagely hacked an arc through the air. In an amazing display of precision, the very tip ripped a hole through Martin's robe and inflicted what looked like a small paper-cut on his upper arm. Martin screamed and fell over.

"Get up you child. That's a mere flesh wound, and you'll be suffering far worse if you don't pull your act together. The pain is real enough, is it not? You feel the very essence of your being dripping down your arm, yes? Petulant mortals may not believe in the Daedra Lords, but the Daedra Lords most certainly believe in petulant mortals. You will face your challenge or you will die. Either will amuse your betters. Vaermina tires of your simpering and self-pity. Move along mortal, before I deign to make your respite here far more permanent." The weapon was sheafed once more, and the hood flicked back. Instead of a skull was a writhing ball of rats. Martin scrabbled to his feet and fled shrieking towards the Imperial City's mercantile center.

OOC: Trannigan has PMed his character's death, which I will post. Should this thread die, I'll hang on to all of the story so far so we can catch up when it's revived.

IC:

After speaking to Sae-Kas, the Xivilia bartender then shot a look to Trannigan, telling him that he gets one tip on what he shold be doing, same as the Argonian. Trannigan simply asked the hulking monster how long Vaermina planned on keeping this little game up and the Xivilia gave an annoyed snort. Trannigan glared at the creature for a second before whispering to Sae-Kas. "I have to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back."

Trannigan stood up then and walked to the back rooms of the tavern. As he got to the bathroom door, it quickly flew open, hitting him hard and sending him to the floor as three massive Minotaur Lords stumbled from the doorway. The one in the middle looked down at the floored Imperial, grunting. "Ah, sorry about that buddy..."

Trannigan quickly got to his feet, and with an angry look he barked "Watch where you walk you ugly bovoids!" He clenched his fists as he spoke and stared at the minotuars.

The middle minotaur lord let out a short mocking laugh then, and retorted. "Listen mortal, I said that I was sorry. A little piss-ant like you would do well to mind your manners here in Lord Vaermina's realm."

Trannigan spit at the bull's feet then, still giving a glare and stated. "The three of you AND your 'lord' Vaermina, that [censored], can all kiss my ass..."

With those words the minortaur's ugly mouths all curved into angered frown. The one that seemed to be the leader ordered the other two to grab the little man and hold him down. Trannigan drew his sword and readied himself to be attacked. He managed to slice at one of their arms with his sword before the other minotaur managed to hit Trannigan with a side swipe to the ribs, sending him about a foot across the room. Trannigan hit the ground with a loud thud and both of the lesser minotaur lords rushed at him, taking turns kicking him in the head with their hard hooves where his helmet did not protect. One reached down and pulled his helmet off, laughing and throwing it across the room.

The leader strolled over slowly, a cocky looking grin about his face. He brandished a heavy ebony mace, raising it high above his head. Trannigan fought hard against the other 2 who were now each standing on his arms to keep the man down. Trannigan tried to conjure up a shock spell to no avail. Before he could cast it, the lead minotaur lord brought his heavy hammer down hard onto Trannigan's chest, and Trannigan felt the bones in his chest shatter even with the cuirass he was wearing.

Trannigan coughed up blood from the impact, trying hard not to pass out from the blow. The blow had knocked him dizzy and taken the wind out of him. He wheezed heavily as he stared up at his three enemies, the last thing he ever saw again was the blurry blackish vision of a warhammer kareening down towards his face...

A cold voice rose from the darkness, "You should have minded your tongue mortal. A lesson learned too late. Your soul is now mine..."