I've decided to try my hand at fanficing. For my first try, I'm going to go with something simple - the OB MQ, although I'll try my best to make up for the over-usedness of the plot with whatever pitiful writting skills I may possess. With that, off to the first chapter, that being only a very short introduction as to how did the main character end up in the cell where the Emperor will later find him. I just didn't want to bunch it in with the grand escape.


CHAPTER I: The Imperial Prison

"Wake up, you sons of [censored]s! Come on, come on, you weren't sent here to slack, COME ON!"

The 'pleasant' voice of the Warden echoed through the halls of the Imperial Prison, accompanied by loud banging that could've awoken an entire Mead Hall after a rough night. One by one, the filthy, disgusting creatures that were once people rose from their sleep, their blurred, horrible nightmares. The Imperial Prison was a place that could've broken any spirit, no matter if it were a stubborn Dunmer fanatic or a cruel Nordic raider.

Sprawling deep beneath the Guard Tower were hundreds upon hundreds of cells, each stuffed with murderers, thieves, rapists and any other kinds of sick and twisted individuals one could ever think of, who lurked in the shadows of the Imperial City, preying on the citizens like beasts. Many screamed they were innocent for the first few days; some indeed were. But even they would shout their spirits out. And then, the silence came ? the kind of silence that was suffocating, maddening; it filled your mind and pushed out any thought, eventually forcing you slip down Sheogorath's road.

Those who would not break were taken, and thrown into one special place. None had ever returned from behind the Door, at least not as something that could be described as creatures. Those few who would return were broken beyond madness, beyond comprehension of even these prisoners, who had seen what they thought the worst. The Taken, as they were called, would return as mere shells ? they wouldn't speak, wouldn't move. They'd barely eat. Most died a few days after being returned from behind the Door.

The Door and what was happening behind it was subject to many myths that found their way through the Imperial Prison; it was so dreaded, even if Oblivion itself opened up, many would question whether to run through the Door or into hell.

In and of itself, the Door was nothing special to look at ? a simple, heavy wooden door, reinforced with iron. When opened, it would release a low creak, which would echo down the hall and make the prisoners crawl to their cell doors to see who was taken now.

As the Warden passed by each cell, approaching the hall that led towards the Door, the creak was heard, making the Imperial stop in his tracks for a moment. Many pairs of eyes lit up in the dark corridor, many pairs of dirty arms grasped the bars, prisoners pressing their faces against them to try and see who the new victim was.

Grinning, the Warden looked around.

"That's right, filth, here's another one of you through the Door. You best watch carefully and pray to whatever abominations would aid such animals that you're not next!" And, without a warning, the Imperial slammed his armored fist into the face of a Ra Gada prisoner that was looking through the bars next to which the Warden stood. A gurgle could be heard, then a thud as the prisoner rolled down and hit the wall, taken completely off guard.

From behind a corner, two other armored Imperials emerged, dragging behind themselves a mess of a man. Dressed in the filthy rags of which the 'uniform' of the Imperial Prison comprised, the newest victim of the Door was a large man. Long, messy blonde hair were covering his head; the shouts from beneath it, and the tough fight the prisoner managed to put up, seemed to suggest a Nord of Skyrim.

Finally, one of the guards lost his patience; motioning his colleague to stop, he took a good punch at the Nord's head, following up with an elbow to the stomach and finally stepping on the hapless prisoner's left foot.

The man roared loudly like a wounded bear, trying to wiggle himself out of the soldiers' grasp again, before the pain in his leg registered completely. From the weird way it was bent, anyone could've made out that the limb was broken. With a barely visible nod to each other, the two guards lifted the Nord on his feet again, resulting in another yell of pain, then dragged him off.

The Warden, who was observing this whole scene with the same grin of sick satisfaction, spit in the Nord's face as the two guards were dragging him by, then closed the doors behind them. One by one, the eyes retreated back to the shadows of their cells, many thinking about the fate that will befall the Nord behind the Door.

Meanwhile, the injured Nord was being dragged through another, shorter corridor. The two guards made sure to give his broken leg as much weight to support as they could, until finally, the Nord passed out from pain. Noticing that, the Imperial who had broken the leg gestured towards the nearest empty cell; the other guard tried to protest, mentioning something about 'orders from above', but he was swiftly cut off:

"Shut up and help me toss him in there."

With a shrug, the guard complied, and the newest addition to the ranks of the Taken was tossed head-first into his new home, landing into the mixture of dirt, blood and excrement that coated the rough stone floor of the cell.

Several hours later, he would wake to a sharp pain in his leg, and a pair of weary crimson red eyes, shinning from the cell across his...

"Well, lookie here. We have ourselves a new arrival..."

Nice! I like the atmosphere you created.



I don't understand the word yet in the sentence. The struggle and the tough fight isn't in contradiction with his origin, just like his blonde hair isn't. I'd remove the word yet alltogether. Makes more sense that way imo.

On reflection I can't recall why I included it there either, back then it seemed a good idea somehow. Thanks for pointing it out, fix'd.

Very nice so far. Keep up the good work i would love to see more! :hehe: loving the feeling of dread the prisoners have.

Thanks for the positive comments regarding the atmosphere. A more realistic feel for the prison of a huge city that's the melting pot of many cultures and the beacon for many immigrants is what I was aiming for, so I'm glad I seem to have done at least that well. Now, on to chapter 2, or rather, the first part of it. I don't like writting very long chapters, so even such a relatively short 'quest' like the escape from the Imperial Prison manages to grow into a two-chapter... thing.


CHAPTER II: A Royal Escape, part 1

"...bet you had a wife before being stuffed here. Don't you ever wonder what happened to her when you were taken? I heard you have some nice traditions up there... You don't have to worry; most likely she's been taken in by one of those 'nobles' of yours. Or maybe she's in the bed of one of your 'friends'? All nice and warm... never lonely."

"Oh yes, you'd like to rip those bars apart and come get me, wouldn't you? I can see it in your eyes... Well, too bad. You're not getting out of there, even with all the Nordic strength in the world. Although, if you'll be nice, maybe the guards will let you out... in a coffin. I've heard some lucky ones get buried in front of the sewer... You'd like that, wouldn't you? Oh, sorry... or did you have some sort of an illusion that you'd get a proper Nordic burial? Well, best forget it then. No one gets out of here, ever... Alive, that is!"

The Dunmer continued on and on, his voice already even more hoarse than typical to his race from all the speaking; he was like a leech, feeding himself off of the despair of other prisoners. Even the guards were somewhat vary around this individual, Valen Dreth... He was behind the Door as long as anyone could remember.

The Nord that was being berated by Dreth currently didn't seem to pay much attention to him, however. For the first few hours, it actually hurt a bit, but eventually his feelings went blunt again after being aroused somewhat by the fight with the guard that got him here in the first place... Instead, the Nord focused on fixing himself up; for the sake of the few last bits of dignity he had left.

"Oh, I bet you were a ladies' man before getting thrown down here. Blonde hair, lots of muscles... a dream come true for any Nordess." Valen hissed, watching as his newest victim swept back his hair, revealing his face for the first time.

The prison had taken its toll on what was once a proud Nord, one of those true Sons of the North. Blue eyes, once shinning with joy and bloodlust in battle went dim, weary. Wrinkles ravaged the man's tall brow, along with many bruises and cuts that were present on the whole of his body. His large, eagle-like nose was bent unnaturally, broken by the guard's armored fist. Dried blood covered the Nord's lush moustache and beard.

"Oh, a dignified one... Think you'll be able to pull through this all and remain a man... Well, think again ? you'll be a beast in no ti- YOU BASTARD!" Valen Dreth was forced to jump back, pressing his hands against the mouth that rarely closed. Blood was seeping from beneath his fingers.

Limping to the bars of his cell, the Nord laughed. His voice, like most the prisoners', was hoarse, yet it still retained the boom all Nords of Skyrim had to their voice.

"Perhaps now you'll stay quiet, you damn serpent. I've always handled your kin like that, and no prison will change that! Let it be known that Heimshor Iron-Hand was given such a name with good reason."

Dreth replied with a mixture of incoherent hisses, grumbles and spits; realizing that he was beaten, the Dunmer crawled to the corner of his cell, swallowing the blood. The rock which Heimshor threw had knocked a couple teeth out, something that Valen would not forget, or forgive. This Nord would get it worse than any other...

Just as Heimshor was about to say something else, heavy footsteps were heard behind the Door.

"...your Majesty, we must hurry!" The wood muffled the voice somewhat, but it was possible to make out that this was a female speaking.

"What of my sons?" A deeper voice inquired. This voice was unlike any other Heimshor had heard ? it was a commanding one, filled with wisdom. Had he not known that Greybeards were not allowed to speak, the Nord could've sworn this was one of them.

"...They'll be fine." The female voice responded with a bit of hesitation. "Glenroy, open the door."

A click as the key turned, and then the usual low creak was heard. The Door opened.

Heimshor cautiously eyed the four figures that stepped in. The one in the front was carrying a torch; its light revealed that the man was an Imperial, armored in one of the oddest armors Heimshor had seen. Made up of steel strips, it had an exotic air to it, even more so than the Dunmeri armors. At the man's side was a sheathed katana; the sword's handle was incrusted with a small red jewel, suggesting it was more than your simple iron katana.

"It's clear; they haven't gotten here yet, captain. Thank the Nine..." The Imperial, Glenroy apparently, motioned for the others to follow.

"Baurus?" The next figure to step in called out. This was the female whose voice Heimshor had heard before; armored similarly to Glenroy, except for a blue jewel in her helmet that most likely denoted her rank, she carried her katana in hand.

"All's clear. They're not behind us, yet." The final figure stepped in, closing the doors behind him. However, Heimshor's attention was fixed on the man between the captain and Baurus.

Amongst his armored bodyguards, the man's lavish silk robes stuck out like a sore thumb. And not only that ? while the three guards seemed tense and vary of some threat that Heimshor was not aware of, this finely-dressed Imperial seemed to have no fear ? at least so Heimshor thought, until the torchlight revealed his face.

Wrinkled and world-weary, his features suggested that a long time ago, he was a handsome man, one of those Cyrodiils that were in the dreams of all ladies, and the nightmares of all husbands. Now, however, they were plagued by concern, presumably for his sons' fate.

"Come on, the exit's this way... What the hell?" Glenroy stopped right in front of Heimshor's cell, staring with mistrust and confusion at the face of the Nord that betrayed mild curiosity and interest.

"Glenroy, what's this prisoner doing here?" The captain approached, looking at her subordinate with a stern face expression. Glenroy shuffled uncomfortably.

"I don't know... It was stated clearly in the letter that no prisoners were to be placed in this cell. It must be a mistake of the Watch..."

"Doesn't matter." She cut Glenroy's explanation off, lowering her katana to Heimshor's chest. "Prisoner, stand aside. One wrong move and I won't hesitate to skewer your chest... Glenroy, unlock the doors."

With a shrug, Heimshor turned around, limping to the corner of his cell. Slumping against the wall, he tried not to bend his broken leg in any painful ways, watching from the corner of his eye as Glenroy unlocked the cell door.

What, by Alduin, is going on?

The group quickly proceeded inside the cell, with Baurus again closing the doors and locking them. The man was a Ra Gada, as Heimshor noticed when he finally stopped thinking about the strange old man they were escorting ? even if he couldn't get a good look at his face, it was evident from the way Baurus moved in armor and wielded his blade. An experienced warrior could've noticed a Ra Gada swordsman in the largest of crowds ? they carried themselves in an agile, flowing way that made those besides them look clumsy and inexperienced.

"You... I've seen you." The old man's voice woke Heimshor from his thoughts. Taking a step closer, the Imperial eyed the prisoner closely.

"You were in my dream..."

The expressions of the guards and Heimshor matched nearly perfectly ? all of them were staring at the old man in disbelief and confusion.

"Your majesty, what..." The captain began, but was cut off when he continued:

"Your face... It is the one I have seen. You are the one... The Dragon-Marked." He leaned forward, tapping Heimshor's head. Surprise bloomed in the Nord's face ? he knew that where the old man had pointed, beneath his hair, was a small mark that he had from birth, which resembled a dragon's head. Back home, before being captured, Heimshor was called 'Ysmir-marked' by some of his fellow huscarls. How could this complete stranger know about his mark was beyond the Nord.

"You are surprised ? and rightly so. Know, however, that the dreams of an Emperor show many things, things I would rather not know. It is a blessing, and a curse... If you truly are the Dragon-Marked, then I pray to the Gods to give me strength this day."

Realisation dawned upon Heimshor. Although there were many men who could be referred to as 'your majesty' on Tamriel, there was only one Emperor... This was Uriel Septim VII. Although the Nord bore no great love for the man, he had respect for what Uriel VII had done ? brought great prosperity to the whole of Tamriel.

But what is the Emperor doing down here, in the prison..? Behind the Door no less...

"Your majesty, we must move. This prisoner..." The captain sounded impatient, although that was tempered somewhat by her obvious respect towards the Emperor.

"This prisoner will come with us." Uriel announced. "And I will hear nothing against it, Captain Renault." He added, seeing as Renault was already opening her mouth to speak out against this decision.

"Very well, your majesty." She nodded, eyeing Heimshor suspiciously. "Baurus, open the passage."

With a nod, the Ra Gada moved towards the niche opposite of the wall that Heimshor leaned against. The Nord raised an eyebrow ? during his short stay here, he had already started wondering as to what was the importance of it. His surprise rose to new levels when Baurus gave several loose bricks a light tap, then grasped and pulled out one of them. A cloud of dust rose as the lower part of the niche sank into the ground; covering their noses and mouths, the guards and the Emperor stood and waited.

A loud rumble could be heard from behind the dust, then several clangs, as if some sort of metal contraption had started working. Waiting for a moment, Baurus took the torch from Glenroy, then took a careful step forward into the cloud. Reaching out with his katana, he nodded to himself when the tip of the blade found no though surface, and took another step, completely disappearing behind the dust.

Captain Renault followed suit, and after her the Emperor. Glenroy stopped for a moment, watching as Heimshor rose from his corner, intending to follow after him.

"One wrong move, scum, and I'll be painting the walls with your intestines." He hissed, motioning for the Nord to go first. As soon as Heimshor took a step past the Imperial, he felt something sharp and cold touch against his back ? Glenroy was going to lead him at swordpoint.

"You best hope there are no sudden stops, and Talos have mercy if you try to get away!" The Imperial threatened again, although this was met with accepting silence from Heimshor. Better to be led forward at swordpoint to Shor knows where than to sit and listen to that filth babble all day.

Passing the dust, Heimshor and Glenroy found themselves in a short, dark cave; ahead, the shadowy figures of Uriel, Renault and Baurus could be made out, heading towards a dim, dirty light down below.

Limping forward, Heimshor hoped the man behind him wouldn't get any funny ideas out of sudden; so long as he made no sudden movements, all should go fine for the Nord. After all, he had the Emperor on his side; if is presumptions were correct, these were the Blades, or those few who served openly as the personal guard of the Emperor.

Hopefully, their unfaltering loyalty extends to not skewering suspicious prisoners out of the Emperor's dreams... He smiled grimly, trying to find a good pace, so as not to upset Glenroy by getting too far ahead, or avoid being accidentally impaled on the katana.

After the dark cave followed a ruin of some sort. Once this probably acted as a palace of some sort ? the corridor that the group walked down was built out of marble; now, however, the merciless time had taken its toll on the structure, and the moss-coated, gloomy, dripping hall they stepped into did not impress even Heimshor. Puddles of dirty water were gathering where bricks were missing. The water seemed to be seeping through the ceiling, so Heimshor concluded that they were likely beneath the sewers.

"Well, everything seems to be going rather well. I don't hear anything, so probably they haven't found their way to the cell yet..." Captain Renault proclaimed, beginning to sheath her katana.

Famous last words. Heimshor duly noted a few moments later as he was dropping to the floor. Arrows were whistling past them, and several had hit the hapless captain, taking advantage of the open faced helmet she wore.

"Your Majesty, stay back! We'll handle this!" Baurus yelled, ducking behind the ruined remains of a colon. Several arrows bounced off the hard stone.

"You best don't try anything, because I'll personally stab you to the wall if so much as a hair falls off the Emperor's head!" Glenroy growled, stepping over Heimshor. The Nord nodded slightly, watching as the two Blades took cover behind whatever ruined structures were near. When an arrow landed just several inches short of his head, however, he quickly decided that finding a safer spot was in order.

By the time Heimshor had taken cover behind a ruined statue, however, the arrows had already stopped raining. Instead, no less than five persons jumped out of their hiding places, muttering incantations and conjuring armor and weapons.

Without waiting, Baurus jumped over the remains of a colon he was hiding behind. Heimshor's previous note that he moved freely in his armor turned out more than correct ? he doubted that the Ra Gada's comrade in arms moved so swiftly even without armor. Covering the few feet between him and the nearest assailant swiftly, Baurus leaped forth.

Being a skilled warrior himself, Heimshor could appreciate the mastery of combat that was displayed by this jump ? Baurus had managed to make his weight work for him, putting it all into the katana's tip. The weapon was, obviously, made out of some special kind of metal, because any simple katana would've shattered from such a hit; this one, however, smoothly went into the assassin's body, slipping through a gap in the conjured armor.

Pulling the weapon out swiftly but carefully, Baurus turned to another of the ambushers. This one had at least some chance to defend, yet instead, he simply flailed his conjured longsword about, guided by instinct rather than mind. It didn't take much effort for Baurus to dive under the weapon, landing a swift blow to the assassin's stomach with the handle of his katana. Stumbling backwards, the man dropped his weapon, which turned into red dust before even reaching the ground. The fate of its wielder was sealed, and the Ra Gada Blade dispatched of him with a quick slice across the unprotected throat.

Entranced by Baurus' fight, Heimshor barely noticed that Glenroy had dispatched of his opponents as well. The Imperial's way of fight, as Heimshor noted from the glimpse he caught of the combat between the strange assassins and Glenroy, was much less an art, and much more something drilled into the man after hours of training. It may have been effective, but it was certainly far from being as amazing as the swift and intricate Yokudan ways of war.

Wiping his katana with the red robes their dead assailants were left with after their armor disappeared, Baurus looked around. There were no more living enemies in this small field of battle, as Glenroy was just finishing off his last one.

"They're dead, your majesty, we must press on forward!"

The Emperor emerged from behind one of the numerous broken pillars, where he was shoved by Baurus ? the Ra Gada was the first to notice the ambushers, and decided to concern himself with his Emperor instead of his captain. Not a pleasant decision, but his course of action was the one which any other Blade would've undertaken.

"Dammit, how did they get here?! I thought the only way was through the prison..." Glenroy cursed, moving in to cover the Emperor's back in case of more archers.

"But then, we thought that the cell leading down here was supposed to be uninhabited." Baurus sighed, handing Glenroy the torch again and taking a bundle of keys off of Renault's dead body. With a sorrowful expression, the Blade closed his ex-captain's eyes, then took her katana, sheathing it and tying the sheath to his belt.

"I'll take it to the Cloudruler. Hopefully, we can return and give the captain a proper burial she deserves..."

"Where's the prisoner?" Glenroy frowned, looking around. Heimshor pressed himself against the statue, trying to shrink. He didn't know what would be achieved by avoiding the Blades; but one thing was certain, he'd rather try and find his own way out of here and to freedom than walk the whole way to wherever with a katana at his back.

"He probably fell to the arrows." Baurus shrugged, picking one of the oldest keys in the bundle. The group quickly made their way towards the gates at the end of this small hall.

Watching as Baurus unlocked them, the Emperor muttered something Heimshor couldn't hear. Glenroy glanced around the hall suspiciously one last time, before the gate gave in. Baurus motioned Glenroy to take the head, watching as the Emperor and the Blade proceeded forward, then closing and locking the gate. Heimshor cursed silently, watching as the Ra Gada followed Uriel.

Waiting a few more moments to be sure, Heimshor emerged from his hiding place. Now what? I'm stuck here... The only course of action I see would be to head back to my cell... Or try to break the gates down? No, by Shor, that would be foolish. I-

He never finished his thought, however, as silent scratching attracted his attention. Ducking back into his hiding place, Heimshor looked around, vary of more of the strange archers.

After a moment, the scratching stopped. Still suspicious, the massive Nord crawled down the stairs, stopping by Captain Renault's body. The katana was taken; however, another sheath hung on her belt, one that Heimshor quickly claimed for himself.

The shortsword found within did little to comfort him, but still ? any sharp piece of steel was better than bare hands. Although an axe would've been much better. He sighed, pressing himself against the wall and looking for a viable source of the scratching that had started again. In the hand of a massive, six and half a foot tall Skyrim-born Nord, the shortsword seemed little more than a dagger.

Finally, some loose bricks caught Heimshor's attention. The scratching had stopped; however, through the small gaps he could see that something ? or someone was moving behind the wall, trying to find a way through.

When the scratching started again, his suspicions were reaffirmed ? whoever was behind those bricks caused it. The bricks moved forward, bit by bit, pushed by the mysterious creature or person behind them.

When the scratching stopped again, Heimshor decided to risk it ? moving out from the staircase where Renault's body lay, he quickly made his way towards the wall, pushing his new weapon into the largest gap and trying to completely collapse the wall.

After some work, the bricks relented, rousing a cloud of dust as they collapsed. A high-pinched squeak came from the newly opened path, one that Heimshor knew all too well from his time in prison ? rats. He jumped back, preparing to face the critters, for any prisoner knew that the rats that lurked down below were much larger than simple ones ? they were enough to kill off some of the less lucky prisoners, at least if they attacked in swarms.

Fortunately for Heimshor, two overgrown rats were his only adversaries here. Although he had not fought with a proper weapon in ages, the skills needed as a huscarl were not easily forgotten ? after all, they were one of the toughest warriors of the Nordic war-chiefs of Skyrim. Thus, quickly enough, the two rats were down, bleeding into the wet mud and moss, while Heimshor made it out with a single bite. It wasn't something to discard as a nuisance, though ? many rats carried diseases, and the Nord made a mental note to check with a healer ? if he got out of here, that is. With grim determination, he limped into the dark tunnel ahead.

Very, very nice. Nice editing of the start of the main quest, how you changed it to make it sound alot cooler.