OOC - A few months ago I had an idea of something different to write for a Skyrim story. I wanted to take several side quests, a few under appreciated locations, a purpose to chase after treasure maps, and combine them into a story. 3 months, 11K words, and 9 chapters later, the story outline was completed. I had originally published it, stage by stage, on a blog at another site. People could read each portion as a quest, then incorporate the quest into their own game play. While that idea did work, I felt that a lot was missing from the story without a protagonist who ventured upon the quest themselves. I will be converting the original quest, into a proper story, chapter by chapter, and posting them here. At the moment, I know where the quest will go, and what is asked by the Collector, but the reactions and thoughts of Haakig, Nord warrior and possible dragonborn, will develop as the story progress.

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Chapter 1 - Four Students

It has been a long day of cutting trees and dragging them back to the pile. Tomorrow I'd have to fetch the horses and harness them to the drag chains so I could move all of the trees to the mill. There was enough lumber here to last a couple of months. Maybe my muscles would forgive me by time the lumber from these trees was cut and sold. But for tonight, I am tired, and my makeshift bed on the ground is all I want. It may not pay as well as other jobs I had done, but the work was vital to the survival of the small town.

I had barely closed my eyes, when I heard an odd sound, of wind and stone and bones. I struggled against sleep to open my eyes, and when I did, I was not laying down. I was standing, but not in my camp. It was dark, far darker than the night should be, but I could still see the walls of a cavern. Looking up I could see a sky full of stars. But I was underground, or was I? In the walls around me are gaps, filled with bodies of the dead, the ancient dead. It's not a crypt now. It is a tower built of well fitted stones. I can see the land spread out before me lit by the flickering lights of the aurora, and walls loom over me as I stand on a balcony.

I try to focus on the walls as they change, my mind refusing to believe what I see. The walls are rough stone, they are finely smoothed marble. The wind blows, but it is quiet. Tall, elegant people walk past me, corpses stare back at me. I close my eyes, but nothing changes. I can still see the stars and the corpses. I try to focus on the wall, one spot, staring at it and trying to understand.

An ancient Altmer walks into view. He is bent over and dragging one leg as he moves, yet walking on his own power without aid of a staff. His skin is shriveled and pulled tight across his skeletal face and hands. I would almost call him a Draugr, but the spark in his eye is full of life and energy. A ghostly apparition, with form, and yet unsubstantial. I can see the stars through him. His robe is old, but not ragged, showing glimmers of well worked golden embroidery on fine black velvet, popular in a time centuries past.

He greets me with a rich, resonant voice, the words coming with the tone one who has lived long in Cyrodil. He speaks with an accent I had not heard since my time in the Imperial City. He waves one hand across his robes, almost dismissively as he speaks.

"Greetings, Haakig. I see that you look at me and see only my body as it is now, lying in some forgotten tomb. Once I was important, and known throughout the Empire. Champions and Guild-masters sought out my wisdom. But as any mortal, I made decisions and took actions that led to the state you see me in now. I am dead, and yet alive. I am bound to this world and cannot pass on, and I have accepted this fate."

He turns and gestures to the tower behind me, and the land spread out before us. "I am bound to the tower you would call Reachwind Eyrie, and yet I still maintain great interest in what happens in the mundane world. To make the endless days pass for me, I have called upon you to ask a small favor."

A favor? Why would he summon me to ask? What have I done to gain his attention? Why me? In an instant, swift visions come to me, hitting me like shards of ice in a storm. How many crypts did I explore? How many times did I empty an urn, or loot a long dead skeleton? Even as I question myself, I know the answer. The dead I looted may have been forgotten by men and mer, but not by the dead themselves.

His deep voice continues on, and I am glad he cannot see my thoughts. "All I ask is for you to bring a few small items to me that so I may see them with my own eyes. Some of them are historically important but are not really valuable to any one. Some items are very mundane, but tied into deeper stories involving blackmail, advltery, or corruption of very influential people. In return I will tell you such tales as I know of forgotten history, and tell you of lost treasures to compensate you for your time."

He looks at me, those nonliving eyes deeply focused on me and burrowing deep inside of me. Somehow, I know I could shut my eyes and go back to sleep. This would all be a dream, forgotten as soon as I wake, no matter how odd it seems now. In the morning it would be a faint memory, forgotten by the time the morning dew is gone. But the memories of the tombs I looted, and the bodies of the men I killed and left to rot, I cannot forget what I have done. He offers me salvation. In my own mind, without a spoken word or even a nod, I accept his offer.

He smiles softly at me, and turns his head with a brief nod of acceptance. He knows my choice. The eyes which burn with life beyond the grave, cease to stare into my very spirit, and I feel a sense of relief. He knew my choice, before I knew it myself. He acts as if he is accustomed to men paying attention to him, one used to giving lectures and orders. He settles into an even cadence of words, and I listen to his lecture, learning a lesson of deceit and betrayal.

"One such case is the Frost River Brewery. Not many years ago, a pair of Nord brothers, Borvir and Rundi, sought to start a brewery in Winterhold, and sell their special brew across Skyrim. They faced many problems and were ultimately unsuccessful. Blame for the problems were placed on a competitor, who held exceptional power and influence. Gold and time was short for the brothers, so they joined the College of Winterhold, trying to re-establish themselves and deal with the problems. In the college they met two others, a Redguard woman named Yisra, and a Khajit of unknown gender named Ilas-Tei. No one will ever know for certain what they planned, but it was clearly not something the College would approve of, and they were forced to work outside College grounds. To prepare for their part in the plan, each of the four had a special spell, item or potion to work on. They would each go to a remote location and return to the College a day or two later. This went on for some time, each of them learning and growing more skilled. One day, the four of them set out, but never returned. All I ask is a token from each of them. The brothers both carried daggers, the Khajit wore a ring, and the woman had a necklace. Should you find anything else of value, feel free to take it as a bonus, and if you should determine how they died, and who was responsible, it would be wise for you to remember it, in the event you face a similar situation."


As he finishes speaking, he starts to fade out, and the world around me turns into a vague sort of map. It is Skyrim, the rivers and lakes are clear, the main cities clearly marked, and four other locations stand out. One spot is halfway between Winterhold and Azura's shrine, east-southeast of Winterhold, a small shrine in the blowing snow. The second is a collapsed tomb I know to be Journeyman's nook, east and a bit north of the Whistling Mine. The third is on the main coastline, east of the Tower Stone, nearer to Dawnstar than Winterhold. The fourth one is near a shrine to Talos, north of Ysgramor's tomb on the big island north of the college. As these four marks begin to fade, a fifth mark appears, a Dwemer Tower, southeast of Markarth and northeast of an Orc stronghold. That tower, the very one I stand in now, surrounded by a fair meadow of green grasses on the top of a mountain.

The world darkens, and I feel myself falling into a deep sleep, but a vague whisper catches my ear, just before everything goes black. "Bring the items to the balcony of this tower, and we shall speak again"