Hello people
I have been trying to write up a fanfiction for Oblivion for some time now but I always end up scrapping what I write, this one however I believe has a bit more promise and so I will post what I have so far. I have not yet named this project so feel free to leave suggestions, thanks and enjoy!

Chapter I

Pain surged through their bodies with every step up that mud-drenched hill, with every breath they took, they felt stitches worse than poison seethe in their chests for sloth had been the centrepiece of their whole career and now even the smallest step seemed more agonising than being skewered on an Orcish pike. Fate was not kind on that day for it seemed as if the heavens had opened and the Nine sought to drown the land of men and mer and all their sins along with it. Raindrops relentlessly bombarded their faces, their silken hoods doing nothing to shield them. Thunder boomed in the sky like Dagon screaming his hate and malice at the mortal world for denying him the domination he had sought for thousands of years. The ground was muddy and slippery as if melting away in cowardice from the gargantuan cloud that dominated the sky, as black as the void and just as intimidating, shrouding the mighty sun in wispy darkness and throwing majestic lightning bolts down on Nirn, briefly lighting the landscape in a depressing sea of endless grey.
For miles in every direction, rain poured ceaselessly soaking all that it touched. From atop the hill that Farwil stood, he turned and gazed back to the south to face where he and his fellows had travelled from for the best part of eight hours. Between them and the horizon stood the grand stone walls of Cheydinhal, the mighty city stood on the easternmost edge of total Imperial authority and to some, stood as a perfect representation of unity between the Cyrodiilic Empire and the neighbouring Dunmeri province of Morrowind.
Farwil wiped the mix of rainwater and sweat from his brow and turned back to face to his two companions. “We must find shelter for the night, lest we shrivel up and die in this damn storm!” he shouted over the top of the thunder, still sounding threateningly. To his right, Jhared “Strongblade” Macile stood, dripping wet and slightly hunched over, heavily fatigued by constantly walking up hill with a full suit of steel plate armor on. He was panting wearily, too tired to say anything. To Farwil's left stood his childhood friend and loyal bodyguard Bremman Senyan who was also soaking wet and exhausted. Bremman, being in better physical shape than his two fellow Knights, offered Farwil with a reply. “We can't rest here!” he shouted, referring to the water-logged camp site they were lingering in, “I think there are some caverns further along the path! With any luck they should be uninhabited!” Farwil looked to the sky with his arm outstretched, water steadily streaming from his fingertips. He tried looking along the path but failed to see anything clearly through the misty rainfall. Looking at his men, he sighed heavily. “Then that will have to do... onward men! Huzzah!”

Trudging wearily through the rainfall, the three Knights could not see anything but the ground immediately before them, struggling very hard to simply follow the path as the rainfall had rendered everything underneath their feet completely caked in boggy mire and thus the path indistinguishable from the surrounding landscape. All they could do was pray that they were still on course and not being lead off into a Minotaur's den. Farwil looked to the sky once more, silently cursing it for choosing that day to tear open, the storm showed no signs of shifting and seemed to only get heavier as the darkness of night slowly started to set in.
The men's morale only seemed to deteriorate with each passing second and after one long, almost crippling hour of blindly dragging themselves along a path they were not entirely sure was there, Farwil stopped causing Jhared, who thought he was about to pass out from exhaustion, to bump right into the back of him.
“What is it sire?!” Jhared shouted, struggling to find the energy to even vocalise his doubts,
Farwil did not immediately answer, he was trying his hardest to focus so that his gaze may pierce the thick blanket of moisture that had fallen across the County. “Farwil?!” Bremman yelled causing Farwil to jump ever so slightly. “The Flood water is more rapid here! Lake Arrius must be close by!”
“The supplies and bedrolls are going to be soaked by the time we get there!” Bremman pointed out to which Farwil turned to him and said, “Well then we'd better get a move on! Onward and Upward! Huzzah!” Jhared groaned loudly, adjusted the strap of his backpack and reluctantly continued walking.
Finally, after a lot more walking, Farwil spotted the faint silhouette of a large rock formation through the storm and between it and they lay the famous Lake Arrius, the raindrops continuously bombarding its surface being the only way to make it out through the impenetrable sheet of rain. “Look!” he exclaimed, pointing towards the rocks, barely visible even to Farwil himself, “Can you see it?! Are those the caverns you mentioned earlier?!” He shouted, feeling his voice begin to go hoarse.
Bremman shielded his eyes from the rain in an attempt to see where Farwil was pointing, eventually he made out some sort of faint shape up ahead and looked to Farwil, nodding his head.
Upon reaching the shores of the Lake, they discovered that it had burst its banks and now engulfed the entire area, swallowing the path in its vicinity and sending flood water pouring down the hill. “We need to find some way across the lake!” Jhared pointed out, Farwil looked at him and rolled his eyes,
“Yes thanks for that sir obvious! Got any real advice?!”
“Leave him alone sire, he's just trying to help!” shouted Bremman in an annoyed tone. Farwil sighed quietly and began looking for some way to cross the Lake for they desperately need shelter.

After a few minutes, Farwil approached his fellows with an update, “Men, it appears there is no clear route to cross the lake, since swimming is clearly out of the picture with all this armor on, I'm afraid we'll simply have to wade through at the shallowest part and hope the lake doesn't swallow us whole!” he shouted demandingly, Jhared was the first one to start complaining, as he had a deep fear of the water, of course, his fellow Knights didn't know this and he'd rather it stayed that way so he did his best to cover up his phobia with pathetic excuses, ”But sir... the supplies and bedrolls...” before he could finish he was cut off by an agitated Farwil,
“I know I know! They'll get wet! We aren't exactly in the lap of luxury out here so the sooner you stop moaning and shift your [censored], the better!” and on that, Jhared gulped hard as he and the men put one foot into the lake, then the other and before long they were up to their waists in the flooded lake.
The surface of the lake slowly climbed higher and higher up their bodies, it wasn't long before the men had to take their backpacks off and hold them above their head to stop them from getting completely and utterly soaked. Jhared really started panicking when the water reached his neck and started dripping into his armour, he was panting heavily and sweating profusely, his heart rate soared and he could feel it beat in virtually every part of his body. He held his breath and closed his eyes and thought for sure he was going to die a watery death. It was then that the water slowly started receding. He could feel the Lake bed rise beneath his feet and when he crawled out onto the shore he let out the biggest sigh of relief in the history of man. “Thank the Nine that's over with! Now get yourselves up the path and into the cave!” Farwil commanded, water rapidly dripping from his hair and nose.

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The Nord hastily continued along the snowy mountain pass, eager to descend as quickly as possible. Having spent the past two months in Skyrim, Greygorn had seen enough of the mountains to last a lifetime and was now on the midpoint of his return to Cyrodiil, the last obstacle however were the infamous Jeralls, a large mountain range on the northern border of Cyrodiil that separated it from the rugged land of Skyrim. From here, the mountain range merged into the Valus mountains to the east and descended steeply to the south, forming a large bowl, in the centre of which, lay the Imperial City, the centre of trade and commerce in Cyrodiil and the capital city of the Empire with the Imperial palace at it's very centre reaching high into the heavens and could be seen for miles all around, at least, it could be if not for the fierce blizzard that ravaged the mountainside.
His vision was completely blotted out by the apocalyptic amount of snow, with every step he took he was unsure if his foot would be met with solid ground or slippery ice, he had to take each step carefully as just a single misstep would send him falling to his death.

He continued his suicidal trek down the Jeralls well into the wee hours of the morning, he thought he would have to resort to sleeping in the snow when he saw that the path suddenly diverged to the left. There was no clear sign of what lay at the end of that path, it could have been anything, a dark cavern infested with ogres, a ruined Ayleid city inhabited by ferocious vampires or perhaps a humble wooden shack that was home to a beautiful elven healer that would tend to his wounds... unlikely, but whatever it was, he was prepared to take the risk of dying horribly if it meant getting some shelter from the cursed weather.
Trying his hardest to remain vigilant for any sign of nasty creatures that wanted to eat him, he soon came to the base of a set of steps, perhaps there was some form of civilisation all the way up there after all. He began his ascent up the steps, he could only pray that there wasn't too many of them, it was only last week that he found himself climbing the seven thousand steps to High Hrothgar on a bet he had made with a drunken Altmer. The ordeal taught him one valuable lesson. Never make bets with a drunken Altmer... or a Sober Altmer for that matter.
The climb seemed to be never ending, as he took step after step, time seemed to be passing ever slower, he could hardly breath anymore and he hadn't slept in over four days due to the cold. Eventually, his morale had fully deteriorated and he collapsed onto the cold stone steps deep within the frozen wastes of the Jerall mountains.

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The three Knights sat in the middle of the cavern floor, their armor lying next to the soaking wet travel packs at the edge of the camp fire, all of them were huddling round the flames closely trying to dry themselves off. “”Bloody hell...” Jhared gasped as he looked at his hands, which were now all shrivelled thanks to the excessive amount of moisture he had been exposed to, “Farwil sire? Do you think the bedrolls and supplies are alright?”
Farwil shrugged and then opened the first pack and found that the bedrolls, by some miracle, were relatively dry. “These aren't too bad, at least we will get a decent nights sleep.” he chuckled, then he opened the second pack. His optimism was crushed as he looked into the depths of the pack and saw that most of the food was ruined, the apples had gone all soggy, the sweetrolls had mostly crumbled away into nothing and the bread had been soaked to the point where it could hardly be considered bread anymore. The only things that were left unscathed were two chunks of venison, four oranges and a bottle of mead which they now had to carefully ration for the next three days.
“Damn, we lost most of the food, we are going to have to share this chunk of venison I’m afraid, we need to make this stuff last.” Farwil took a home made skewer out of the bag and impaled the juicy piece of meat on it and held it steady within the flames. Everyone was silent, they didn't have the energy to talk, so they all just sat there and stared into the camp fire, the flames dancing a majestic and endless dance. By the time the venison was cooked, everyone had already fallen asleep.

As night slowly swept by, the three men were deep in their sleep. Each of them slouched over to the side of where they were sitting with their heads resting snugly on the bedrolls which were still tied up with rope. Farwil was dreaming he was back at Castle Cheydinhal, dressed up in fine linens and sitting at the head of the dining table. At the other end of the table sat his father, Count Andel Indarys and every other seat was occupied by the various members of the royal court including the castle steward Naspia Cosma, the castle mage Ulene Hlervu and many other familiar faces. The table was covered in the finest silver cutlery, goblets and platters, all filled with succulent wines, juicy meats and delicious snacks. He looked over at Ulene and smiled and then down at his plate. He grinned and let out a relaxed sigh before surrendering himself to the pleasures that surrounded him.
Midway through the meal, he heard his father call to him from across the table, he looked up and saw that everyone was looking at him. “Farwil!” the count shouted enthusiastically with a great big smile. Farwil glanced over at the castle chamberlain who nodded once and then slowly faded away into thin air. “Farwil!!” the count shouted once again, this time with a more serious tone, as if something was wrong. Suddenly, everyone at the table began vanishing into nothingness, one by one. Then the food, wine and all the silverware disappeared and then the table. “Farwil?!” his father shouted one last time in a shocked tone. Finally the dining chamber itself began to dissolve around him and his father started changing. His fine linens were replaced by cheap looking dirty torn ones, his facial features began distorting, his trademark Dunmer dark skin, red eyes and pointy ears morphed into a more human appearance. Farwil recognized his new form as Bremman, “Farwil! Wake up!” Suddenly the nothingness of the dream world was quickly filled in by the dull cavern walls and the burnt out remains of the camp fire.
Before long the three men were fastening themselves back into their battle attire, Jhared struggled to reach his belt buckle across his small beer belly while the others were securing their weapons into position on the right side of their belts. Farwil saw the cooked but uneaten chunk of meat lying next to the remains of the camp fire still impaled on a skewer, he took a moment to think whether they should eat it now or save it for later. Ultimately he decided the latter so he picked it up and carefully dropped it into Bremman's backpack.
While the others were packing everything else away, Farwil quickly went to investigate if the storm had passed. He put one hand on the creaky old wooden door of the cave and slowly pushed it open. It was better than he feared but worse than he hoped, the thunder and lightning had stopped and the rain had slowed to a drizzle but it was still quite windy and the ground was even more muddy than before which meant climbing was going to be difficult. Suddenly Farwil felt a hand on his shoulder, he turned around to see Bremman and Jhared with their backpacks on standing behind him. “Are you ready sire?” Bremman asked.
“Couldn't be more so old friend, let's get ourselves up there and deal with this quickly and there will be a nice big juicy roast with a glass of wine waiting for us back at the castle! Huzzah!”

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Radraen quietly signalled Tul with her hands to silently move to the next tree, he nodded and crept forward while she coated her arrowhead with the venom of a Colovian Dreugh. He silently unsheathed his dagger and hid behind a tree while she steadied her aim. The Buck innocently continued feasting on grass, oblivious to the two people stalking it. Radraen pulled back her bow string as far as it would go without making loud straining noises and kept the buck centred, waiting for a good opportunity to strike. As the minutes crept by, she knelt perfectly still concealed in a large patch of grass, her eyes narrowed and her breath held. Then suddenly, a small cloud obscured the sun and Radraen, not wishing to waste her chance, fired her venomous arrow. They had been hunting the beast for over an hour and so the thrill of finally managing to catch and kill it sent a wave of adrenaline rushing through them, time seemed to slow down while the arrow flew swiftly through the air. When the arrow struck home, it did so in the creatures backside. The beast cried out and bolted away from her but as it passed by, Tul jumped out from behind the tree and managed to tackle it to the ground. Not wishing the buck to suffer any more than necessary, he quickly raised his dagger to its throat and cut it.
“That was fun!” Radraen said excitedly, “We should do this more often!” Tul turned to her and narrowed his eyes to express his annoyance, “”What are you talking about Red?! We already do this at least three times a week!” the Bosmer looked at him with those puppy dog eyes of hers and smiled at him in that innocent way that all Bosmer seem to do a lot. “I know right? We should do it more often, I was thinking more like five or even six times a week!” Her Argonian friend shook his head and mumbled something under his breath. “Hey Tul! Give me a hand here would you? This is a big one.”
The two friends stood at either end of the deer carcass, Tul grabbing the front legs and Red the back ones and on a count of three they lifted it and began the long process of hauling it back to their camp site near the city of Bravil.
“I'm amazed you were able to tackle this thing without getting injured, this is probably our biggest one yet.” Red complimented her friend. Tul moved his snout into something that resembled a smile, “I don't know, I'd say the one we caught on Morndas was bigger, now that thing was what I would call a good kill, the bastard nearly impaled me with its antlers after all.”
“Ha! That certainly would have made for an epic tale!” Red smirked, “I'm sure the bards would remember that one for ages to come! Tul, the mighty Argonian hunter who killed legions of skittish wildlife in and around the Nibenay Valley, but his greatest adventure was in killing a beast of unimaginable terror! A foe that only a true hero could vanquish! A beast responsible for the murder of countless grass patches! The fabled Cyrodillic Deer!” She mocked, Tul trying not to laugh. After just under half an hour, Tul and Red made it back onto the Green road and were well on their way back home. As they casually pvssyd on the way, they did not notice the strange man who was waiting for them just around the corner.