Chapter 1: Midnight over Bravil
Prologue Part 1
Andre took the daggers out of his over-sized sleeves and set them on the table. He looked at the other man in front of him, wearing a large purple robe, the hood over his eyes, covering his face. Andre wore the same, but with the hood down. However, unlike Andre, the man had three red stripes on the sleeves of his robe, the sign of a veteran. The Offrad, they called them, the fourth level of Salvation. Andre nodded at the hooded man, who said, “Come in, brother.”
Andre immediately recognized the voice to belong to a Dunmer, but said nothing and moved on. He moved deeper into the cave, a cave deep in the recesses of the Jerall Mountains, a secret meeting place where they wouldn’t be bothered. Andre could feel the humid, cold air coming from deeper inside the cave. He took a left, and entered a huge room. The room was littered with stalagmites and stalactites, as well as thousands of people wearing purple robes, awaiting silently. Andre took his place between two others, and waited for the man in the huge gold throne above him to start. On either side of the man in the throne, were 5 Orcs. They each wore a black suit of steel armour, and huge pikes of steel and wood.
The man on the throne began to stir, and he sat up, then stood on his feet. Nobody talked as he opened his mouth, “Welcome, my Children.” The voice gave away an Altmer, who was tall, wearing a purple robe with 7 red stripes on the sleeves. Only one man had seven stripes, and that was him. The horde replied with the traditional reply, “A glorious day in the making, Father.” The Altmer held out his palm, and motioned downward, the signal for the group of thousands to sit. Silently, the group sat wherever they could, with people almost sitting on top of each other. His next words were so fluid, they came out like a magical river.
“As you all might have noticed, in recent events, that Mankor Cameron and his Mythic Dawn have fallen. This is because of that Hero. No worries, my children, he will not be of a bother.” The Altmer lowered his hood, revealing his face. You could tell by the voice, that he was aged, but his face looked perfectly young. His eyes were squinted, almost entrancing, and he had the slightest hint of a grin on his face.
“My name, is Umbadil, and I have created this place.” He held his hands up, “I have created what you are. I have created the Eternal Midnight. Unlike the Mythic Dawn, we will not be asking the Daedric Lords for our help. We do not need it.” Umbadil turned around, and grabbed a blue vial at the foot of his throne. He held it up, the blue liquid shining in the light the fires fed.
“We have this.” He swished the contents. “The cure.”
Andre looked left and right. Umbadil started again. “Now, you all know the plans, get ready and--”
Even though Andre knew the plans to attack Bravil, and run it over, he had no idea what ‘The Cure’ was. “Excuse me!” He cried, “The cure to what?” Umbadil’s black eyes locked on to Andre. He did not look very happy. All the sudden, Andre started to feel pain in right hip, he looked to see an arrow sticking out. One of the Orcish Guards had let an arrow loose, and it looks like the others were about to do the same. Andre watched as 7 arrows buried themselves in his own flesh, and Andre began to fall over. Before he passed, he heard Umbadil’s voice like a whisper, “The ?terta has begun…”