Turdas 6:26 pm, Rain's Hand 11, 3rd Era Year 435: By now, the Oblivion Crisis has ended in Joan of Arkay's gameworld. Even though she never did the Main Quest, I like to think my Grey Wizard character has done this by now.
As for Joan herself, she is on her way to Malada.

To seek the High Fane, whatever that is. And right now she is in the Fighters Guild hall of Cheydinhal. She walks in, and has a seat at the guild's food table. Begins nibbling upon some dried mutton and cheese.
"Greetings Breton" says Ohtimbar, sitting down across from her. As he sits, he bangs into a metal plate, which flies across the room and ricochets off the nearby wall. "How goes it?"
"Might you have reckoning towards the Nine here in Cheydinhal, elf?" Joan asks. She had recently begun re-reading
Ten Commands: Nine Divines, a book she had first appreciated long ago when she lived in Morrowind. Though normally she might find such a personal question to a relative stranger rather rude, Joan had for some reason felt a flutter within her heart. Might this high elf also appreciate the 'reckoning toward the Nine?'
"I worked the Arena in the Imperial City for a while," Ohtimbar answers plainly. "Got up to Gadiator, then took a powder. A guy can get hurt you know?"
Joan puzzles over this. Ohtimbar did not seem to think her question was rude, but he hadn't exactly answered it, either. "Oh, the Arena," she replies. "Gladiating for the masses, rather than boasting your self toward the forces that be. I suppose I do have understanding. On the subject of hurtfulness: Might you term to be more selfless and willing? For the Nine can ease your pains through acts of Restoration."
"Poor Tivela," Ohtimbar says, seeming to sidestep the issue of the spirits. "I hear she is turning Cheydinhal inside out looking for her husband, Rythe. I hope nothing has happened to him."
Joan does not reply. Merely continues to nibble her meal. This meal is the first real one she's had in two days.
"Go to it!" Ohtimbar urges.
"If such is to be," Joan answers solemnly.