» Fri May 13, 2011 7:14 am Ten years before the Oblivion Crisis.
Minx Drasil was a rich, dunmeri, Hlaalu Councilwoman. She was owner of a large stronghold on the Odai Plateau. Her wardrobe was usually a blue-velvet outfit that consisted of a blouse, gloves, a petticoat, a skirt over that, and fur-lined slippers. However little did she know of the things that would happen to her.
"Mistress, we have a visitor," a khajiiti house slave called. His voice was hoarse, due to having his throat slit once. Minx got up from her bed and walked down the stairs. The tan colored walls had a depressing feeling, but she didn't mind. Finally the Hlaalu noble opened the door and there stood an young dunmeri woman dressed in rags and covered in filth.
The woman coughed, "May I stay here for the night?" Her voice was weak. The lady stood there with tears in her eyes waiting for a response. The wind blew and clouds were beginning to form, an omen that a storm was on its way. The Hlaalu Woman sighed deeply.
"Listen you wretched s'wit, if I see you here again, I'll call my guards," she hissed. "Do I make myself clear?" The woman let out a loud cough. The tears in her eyes were now rolling down her cheeks. The pauper sobbed as she walked away.
"You'll regret this you black-hearted n'wah, you will." The noble chuckled under her breath at the false threats of a commoner and decided to read. She pulled out a book which was called, "The Arrogance of a Nymph." It told a story about a beautiful nymph who thought she was more gorgous than Azura. Eventually Azura was angered and turned the nymph into an ugly orc. Finally Minx let herself be taken hostage by slumber.
When she awoke, something was heard pounding against her day. Lady Drasil shouted, "Get it for me, slave." No answer was heard. With a foul mood the woman stood up and answered the door. The golden-armored temple-soldiers called "ordinators" were there. They shoved a linen sack over her head and tied her ankles and wrists together. Fear engulfed her as they carried her somewhere...
