Sunrise
1. The Count's Arms
Anvil, once a bright, lively city. Now, a stinking, derelict slum, filled with all sorts of criminals. From pirates to assassins, thieves to grifters, only out for their own interests. There was no such thing as a council now, only a notorious pirate, who killed Milona Umbranox and claimed Anvil as his own. Nothing could be done to stop him; the guards were no match for his crew of over one hundred. The Imperial City couldn’t send help, as they were still recovering from the Oblivion Crisis, as was the rest of Tamriel.
The pirate was named Gilbert Ashton, a huge Breton hailing from Skyrim. His ship’s name was “The Vile Lie of the North”, a vast vessel that hunted without remorse, much like its captain. Many criminals and their gangs have attempted to conquer Ashton, but have failed. The gangs, like the guards, were no match for Ashton and his crew.
*
Samuel woke, a cold sweat covering his entire body.
Another nightmare, he thought, stepping out of his bed. He made his way to the water basin, pumping water into it; he looked down at his reflection.
Thick blonde hair covered his head; his face looked like a regular Breton’s should. Lucky what had happened in the dream hadn’t come true. Samuel washed his face, the water slowly dripping back into the basin. He walked outside, the rising sun greeting him with its warm, loving embrace. The Gold Coast looked beautiful from where he stood on the doorstep, the valleys filled with lush vegetation and brightly coloured flowers. The brilliant display was ruined only by the so called “city” of Anvil, a grey blot on the horizon. Samuel sighed; he had be raised in Anvil, back before the Crisis. It had been beautiful then. He could barely remember his true parents; all he knew was that they were kidnapped by pirates when Samuel was young, two years old at the most. He was left for dead on the streets; luckily a passing Imperial man heard his cries and took him in as a son. Samuel lived in Anvil until he was sixteen, when he moved out to see the world. His dream had never come true, as the Oblivion Crisis had brought everything to a grinding halt. Samuel had hidden in an abandoned house near Skingrad until the Hero brought an end to the Crisis. Samuel had then come out of hiding, like many others, and searched for family. His first thought was to head to Anvil, to see if he could locate the man who had taken him in, his father, Gregory Stanton.
*
Samuel neared the city, his nose being filled with the rancidity associated with death. His knees grew weak and his head spun; death was never Samuel’s favourite thing. No, not even close to it.
But he kept walking nevertheless, resting his hand on the blade hanging at his belt for comfort. At the gates he was stopped by two immense Nords holding a cutlass in each hand.
“State your business,” The one to the left grunted as he squinted through pig eyes at Samuel.
“I’m. . . I’m here. . . Visiting a friend,” Samuel lied.
The Nord grunted and signaled to a man standing on watchtower above him to open the gates. He pulled a rope and the gates creaked open, Samuel walked in.
Anvil looked (and smelled) exactly like it did on the outside. Grey, crumbling buildings lined the streets; Samuel noticed a body floating in the pond by the gate, seagulls fed on the unfortunate man’s flesh. Samuel tried to ignore it as he looked around for an inn; after a few minutes of searching he came across “The Counts Arms”, once a tall, luxurious hotel. Now a crumbling mass of brick and rotting wood. Samuel walked in, the inside looked the same as the outside, destroyed. Samuel noticed a sign pointing to a flight of stairs leading into the basement, he walked down them warily. He knocked on the door at the bottom and a slot slid open and a pair of slanted green eyes appeared through it.
“Who are you?” Came a Wood Elf’s voice from the other side of the door.
“I’m Samuel.” Samuel replied frankly.
“Samuel who?”
“Just Samuel,”
“Is that so?”
“You ask a lot of questions,”
“That’s my job.”
The door swung open and a beautiful young Wood Elf stood in the doorway.
“Welcome to The Counts Arms, Samuel.”
*
Samuel stepped through the door and gasped. The basement was everything a hotel with such a name as “The Counts Arms” should be. It had a homely feel and was warm and well decorated, unlike the outside.
“It’s great, isn’t it?” The Wood Elf who had questioned Samuel said admiringly.
Samuel simply nodded, dumbfounded. He snapped back into reality a few moments later and made his way over to the bar, where the proprietor, a large Redguard with frizzy red hair, was standing.
“Welcome to The Counts Arms, friend,” He said cheerily. “The name’s Dragoh, what can I do for you?”
“Some warm food and a comfortable bed for the night should do me well, Dragoh,” Samuel replied with a smile.
“Sure, first meal’s on the house, but the bed’ll cost ya ten gold pieces,”
Samuel’s eyes widened, he barely made that much in a year! But nevertheless he reached for his coin purse, and scooping out the required sum, he handed them to Dragoh.
“Thanks, grab a seat and your food will be with you in just a sec,” With this Dragoh turned around and walked through a doorway into a small torch lit room and disappeared from sight.
Samuel made his way to a table and sat down on a wooden stool. A man dressed in black and white came towards him holding a plate of steaming hot food and placed it on the table. Samuel ate.
*
After a few minutes, and a satisfying meal, the Wood Elf that had let Samuel in earlier came and sat down in the stool opposite to him. Samuel looked at her for a few seconds and then she asked.
“So, what brings you here, Samuel?”
“I’ve come here looking for my father, Gregory Stanton,”
“Gregory? That old fella? He lives down by the docks, in the Flowing Bowl. I wouldn’t recommend you going down there though, lots of…How can I put it…Unsavoury folk down there,” She winked, and silence fell over them for a while. Feeling awkward, Samuel decided to keep the talk flowing.
“I never got your name,”
The Wood Elf looked up.
“My name? Elendrael,”
*
Samuel nodded and drank from the mug that was beside his plate, silence fell over he and Elendrael.
A minute passed, and Elendrael stood up.
"Well, good luck finding Gregory," She said. "Wish I could help more but, duty calls." As she said this a loud banging was heard at the door and she winked and went to answer it. She had barely gotten halfway to the door when it flew off it's hinges to reveal a group of pirates wielding cutlasses and battering rams standing behind it.
The inhabitants of the room screamed and cowered behind their hands as the gang stormed into the room, slaying anyone in their path. One man stepped out from the onslaught, he was huge and menacing, wielding a cutlass in each of his oversized hands. He lumbered towards Samuel, blades swinging, a devilish grin on his face.
"Ignore the rest of 'em! Get the Elf and the Breton!" He ordered the men. They immediately turned and rushed towards Samuel. He was knocked down, and his vision went black.
The cell was dark and dimly lit, a thin stream of light trickled through a small barred window high above the rough, stone floor. Samuel woke, his vision was blurred, a pounding headache ricocheted about his skull as he sat up. He grunted in pain and held his head in his hands, waiting for the pain to stop. He looked up as the pain began to slowly cease and noticed a shape that looked like a body under a sack cloth sheet. He leaped up and hurried over to the body, he pulled the sheet off to reveal...
Elendrael.
He shook her, calling her name. After a moment, she woke, her eyes slowly opening.
"Samuel? Is that you? Where are we?"
"I don't know where we are, but it's some sort of cell,"
"Well, obviously."
*
Samuel simply nodded and stood up, looking for a way out of the cell. The cell was small, so it didn't take very long to look around. Samuel had found nothing, he sat down in disappointment.
They sat in silence for a while, until they heard the sound of footsteps echoing down the corridor towards their cell. The footsteps got closer and closer, louder and louder.
Out of the shadows stepped an Elf clad in dark robes and by the sound of it, armour underneath.
“Stand back!” He yelled as he raised his hands, Elendrael and Samuel leapt up and scurried out of the way, just in time, as well. Because as they did, the door came flying off its hinges and smashed into the back wall of the cell, shattering the door in two and creating a large crack on the wall.
Samuel stared at the crack, then the door (what was left of it, that is), then the crack again.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” The Elf yelled, “C’mon!”
Samuel turned around and ran out of the cell, Elendrael close behind him. As he neared the Elf, he noticed that he was a Dark Elf, as the red eyes stood out in the darkness.
They ran up a flight of stairs and into a large chamber, three guards were standing in this chamber, and came running at them, swords drawn as the trio entered.
The Dark Elf muttered a command and a rippling wall of air went hurtling towards the guards. As the pulsating wall reached them, they were thrown back and a sickening crack was heard as they hit they walls. Samuel and the others ran past them and up a flight of stairs, when they reached the top, they turned left and escaped out a door. Only to be greeted by a vertical drop from the edge of a huge cliff. They skidded to a halt and moved to run back through the doors but stopped as they saw more guards running their way. They were trapped.
The Dark Elf turned and grabbed onto Samuel and Elendrael’s wrists.
“Do you trust me?” He said quietly.
Elendrael nodded.
Samuel nodded.
They jumped.
*
The air sped past the trio and whipped their faces as they headed for the ground. Samuel shut his eyes tight, but opened them as he felt himself slowing down. He felt his feet touch solid ground, and stood there, puzzled.
The Dark Elf laughed as he saw Samuel’s face, but the smile disappeared as he saw something out of the corner of his eye. An arrow was on a due course travelling down the cliff towards Samuel, the Dark Elf leapt forward, drawing his sword, and just before the arrow collided with Samuel, he cut it down from the air. Leaving two halves lying on the wet ground.
The Dark Elf sheathed his sword.
“C’mon, we’d better get out of here.”
He started running north, away from the cliff. Elendrael and Samuel following close behind.
Eventually, they stopped running in a small clearing on top of a hill overlooking the Gold Coast. Samuel slumped down onto the ground, panting for breath; Elendrael did the same beside him. The Dark Elf, however, stayed alert. Samuel finally regained his breath, and asked.
“What happened back there on the cliff?”
The Dark Elf turned around and replied with.
“I happened,”
“No, how we slowed down,”
“A spell, nothing you need to concern yourself with,”
Samuel nodded and laid down on the grass, the sun was setting over the Abecean sea, and the air around the trio was peaceful. In time, the Dark Elf sat down beside Samuel and looked up at the stars.
“Who are you?”
The question had come from Elendrael, and the Dark Elf looked at her as she spoke.
“My name is Link,”
“Why did you save us?”
Link stood, and walked over to a small tree. He placed his hand upon it, feeling its smooth bark.
“You both have a very important part to play in the rebuilding, and eventually, the resaving of Tamriel.”
“What do you mean?”
“You will learn in time, Elendrael,”
Elendrael’s eyes widened.
“How do you know my name?” Her tone was dark and menacing now, and the curiosity that had once bounced about her face now lurked like a shadow.
“For now, that does not matter.” Link replied. “But what does matter is getting a fire going, it’s going to get cold, fast.”
Link broke a branch off the tree he was standing by and threw it down onto the ground. He looked up, and Samuel and Elendrael began collecting wood with him. Within a few minutes, they had a small fire lighting up the clearing. There was no food, but a small stream was nearby, they drank from there.
Link stood up.
“You two had better get some rest, I’ll keep watch.”
Samuel and Elendrael silently agreed, and slept.
*
