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Lady Rajsela shortly teleported in Cheyhindal, she notices an Oblivion just stands outside of the main gate. She hates going into the Oblivion gates, but she has no choice but to defend her country. She gazes at each civilizan, as one maybe part of the Mythic Dawn cult. She got attacked one night, while traveling to the Imperial City, good thing the guards killed them for her. She was on her way to head to the market, to find some things.

The female Nord, wearing her blue dress, walks down the street. She has a small pouch of things that she carries. It weighs a ton and she needs to head to her to her house to stash them, to lighten her inventory.

She shuffles through her magic, so she has her healing magic on her. She uses healing magic very often and tries to learn new spells, so she doesn't get paralysed or posion. The Necromancers are still after her and she knows someday the King of Worms will be replaced and she knew somewhere down the line, the new King wants her to be his bride. She won't allow that. She gazes at the mages, standing outside of the guild. She isn't trusting mages, because she doesn't know which are traitors or not.

((Thank you Sormani. I wanted to say something, but I didn't feel it was my place. I was honestly just hoping that'd she improve or something. I've really nowhere to go from here, and have nothing I can do off of her post, so I do find myself believing that I'll need you to do the next post.))

Norid's eyesight was unreal, and he saw the arrow coming from nearly twenty feet away. Realizing that it wasn't meant to hit either him or his brother, he caught it from the air, and looked at the shaft. Seeing the text, he handed it to Drac'rad without a second thought.

"Read it," he said simply.

Norid shot another arrow into the distance, knowing that it would hit a fleeing Daedroth. Then he saw something that he hadn't seen recently. A strange red sphere materialized above the dirt outside the city walls. It morphed, and turned into a circle that was no less than twelve feet wide. It swirled miraculously, and then a Dremora stepped out of it, holding a small parcel. Norid didn't shoot it, and called out to the guards, "Don't fire!" his voice was so similar to Drac'rad's that they thought it was an order.

Drac'rad read the message word-for-word as the portal disappeared, "I see that you've chosen to attack the messenger. You have poor honor, but so be it. My Lady has warned you, and politely asked you to stop. Now, the time for etiquette is at an end, just as my Lady's patience is. So be it, if you will not choose to comply with her wishes, then you choose to die for the completion of her wishes."

The Dremora looked upward at the wall, saw Norid, and tossed the box up. Norid's claws slit it open as he caught it, and a sealed message fell out of the halved package. He cut the seal and read it carefully, smiling maliciously as he did.

"What is that?" asked Drac'rad increduously, unable to read the Daedric text written on it. While Drac'rad could read the basic text of the ten major races of Tamriel, Norid could read and write in Daedric.

A low chuckle escaped Norid's lips as he spoke, and the Dremora below faded into the air, "Orders from the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood. I am hereby contracted to kill Zakkon Deathblade. Before, I was worried that the Listener would send me after someone else, with the event at the Cheydinhal Sactuary, but now... now he'll learn that my honor is both beyond poor and not to be insulted. He's challenged the self-professed best archer in Tamriel and Akavir. Because my arrows are both posioned with potion and sharpened by magic. More than that," at this, a small green fireball appeared in his hand, "I know how to mix illusion and destruction, and my arrows can be swift and invisible, while burning with a flame more dangerous than a meteor. If he wants to threaten Norid Der'ec, Shadowscale and Silencer of the Dark Brotherhood, he'll learn his place when he's being tortured in Oblivion..."

"There are better ways," said Drac'rad as he looked into the distance.

"Ah, and I suppose they involve diplomacy?"

"No, of course not. Did you see that arrow? If you hadn't caught it, it would have hit me in the chest! I can get a contingent of the Cheydinhal Guard to go after that now-wanted criminal, if you want. He's a Deathblade, but he can't stand up to a City Guard trained by me, Norid Der'ec, and the combined forces of the Dark Brotherhood Shadowscales of the Der'ec family."

"What family? They've all forsaken the name, like you, Flat-foot, and unlike you, they've made sure that they will not be tracked. You were the most foolish of the entire family, revealing yourself to Mehrunes Dagon like that."

"Foolish? Let me make something clear to you, Norid. Your face has no more than a score of red scales on it. You've killed so many Argonians in the Black Marsh that our beggars attack you in fear. Me? I'm a little more subtle..."

Drac'rad reached as though he was going to draw an arrow from his quiver, but instead, he removed his helmet and revealed his face. There was no red. From his forehead to his eyes, and from his eyes to his collar-bone, and all the way down his neck was charcoal black. Norid was smart enough to know that it was not fake.

"But you were born without any black scales; you were born as a Blood-scale."

"Yes. And you thought I was being obvious. I have no doubt that Zakkon is still watching, and this is something he needs to see. If he knows anything about those that he hunts, he'll report this back to his Lady. Mehrunes has spies on these very walls. Norid, make no mistake, the others hide because you'll kill them. Try to kill me, however, and you'll find yourself charring in Oblivion. I am a master of the Destructive Arts, and former Mythic Dawn Agent. I can summon a portal to Oblivion. I can conjure an army of Xivilai if I want. I can shield myself from the hellfires of the wretched sun, and I can create the illusion of an almost-normal appearance with the help of my armor. There's a reason I wear a helmet, Norid. I'm no Vampire, like the filthy Bosmer. I'm the opposite. No one ever sees me at night. I hunt deer and Daedra as a Solsthiem Wolf, the likes of which you have never seen- the likes of which only the Dunmer Nerevarine has seen and survived."

"You believe in the Nerevarine?" asked Norid skeptically, showing no surprise at the Lycanthropian form of his Argonian brother.

"I worked with him," was the only reply that came as Drac'rad reequipped his helmet.

((For the record, "Daedroth" is the singular form of "Daedra". When I mean the Daedroth Aligator creature, I'll make it clear. But above, when I don't describe the creature, I meant a single, lone Daedra.))

Drac'rad looked outward at the fields beyond the walls, that were intermittently spotted with charred blotches where Drac'rad and the other battlemages had attacked the Daedra. In the heat, most people would have disregarded what he saw, but his helmet had many effects, and he disregarded none of them.

"Purple cloud..... Norid, do you see anything out in that field, about a mile to the West?"

Norid hardly glanced before his eyes caught onto the same area where Drac'rad was looking. However, unlike Drac'rad, he could see the chameleoned form clearly, rather than just a purple cloud.

"That is not even remotely possible..." Norid muttered.

"What is it?" the cloud in Drac'rad's eyes made the creature look much closer than it was. While it looked to be only a mile away, it was actually more than five, making the true size much larger.

"A giant... well... it's a massively overlarged dreugh... Drac'rad, cast a dispell spell at it."

Drac'rad was confused, as he couldn't possibly comprehend its true size, but he relented, and as the spell struck the shape, the purple cloud disappeared, and was replaced by the bottom half of a Land Dreugh's leg. He looked up and saw what Norid was talking about.

The beast towered nearly as high as the walls, and its pincers were like boulders that seemed the beast seemed easily capable of obliterating the entire city in a matter of minutes.

"Ah," said Norid with a sigh of resignation, "I hoped it was an illusion."

Drac'rad didn't hesitate. It was still too far away to be hit with arrows, but spells never dropped, and Drac'rad knew it. He turned to the guard whom he had given the bow, and gave him an order,"

"Go get me as many restore magicka potions as the Mages Guild can spare. Tell them that there is going to be hell if the the creature coming at our gates doesn't die. Get Bog beacon, Flax Seeds, Steel Blue Entoloma Cap, Stinkhorn Cap, Fire Salts, Blackberries, and Water Hyacinth."

"Sir!" he replied, and ran to get the supplies.

As the guard went about his duties, Drac'rad summoned a weak fireball, as a test, and fired it at the massive Dreugh. After it hit the beast, though, he didn't have to wait long before he got the result he had expected. The fireball came hurling back at him with unparalleled speed, and crashed into his chest, knocking him off the battlements of the wall. He crashed against the ground, and got up spryly. He looked up at Norid, who was notching an arrow, and called to him.

"Don't! There must be a mage commanding the beast. Deflection of spells like mine is very difficult. It probably has a spell to send your arrow back as well."

"Quit acting like you're my Commander, Drac'rad. The only one who can begin to claim something like that is Hermaeus Mora."

He fired the arrow into the distance, and it never dropped. However, Drac'rad was back upon the battlements by the time it hit the creature. The beast's skin rippled, and a small flame erupted on its forehead where the arrow struck it.

"That," said Norid triumphantly, "is a dispell enchantment."

"It's not dead yet. Shoot it again..."

"Sir!" the guard that Drac'rad sent for the potions and ingredients was now back, holding a handful of potions and three bags of ingredients. Drac'rad was actually insulted- under normal conditions, the Mages Guild had never sold him so many ingredients at one time. Now that they were in danger, they were giving them away. The guard tossed him a potion, and Drac'rad caught it, quaffed it, and set the empty bottle beside him, rather than allowing it to roll off the battlements onto the mountain of empty glasses below.

"Alright," muttered Drac'rad malevolently as he felt his energy return to him, "now..." his hands seemed to erupt into flames, "you die!" The fires shot outward faster than Norid's arrow, and hit the creature in under ten seconds. This time, nothing came back. Norid's arrow was still affecting it. Instead, the two fireballs erupted into an explosion that could only be matched by a Grandmaster of destruction. However, Drac'rad's spells were extremely close to that amount of strength, and there was no Grandmaster mage of Destruction here is Cheydinhal- the mages here were Conjurers.

The soldiers had never seen such a big explosion, and they had never seen their commander so angry at something. Before the flames even cleared, the Argonian Battlemage had depleted his magicka stores with another two of the same spell. The soldier tossed him another potion, he drained it, and tossed this one away as he relentlessly kept up his barrage. The only thing that stopped him was when Norid's dispell effect wore off. Unfortunately, he failed to notice it.

The fireball, much faster, came back and exploded against his chest. He felt his chestplate shatter instantly, and felt the glass shards bounce off of his scales. While he thanked the fates that he was an Argonian, not even his scales could stop what happened next.

Only Norid's eyes were fast enough to follow the nest few moments, as he had seen the spell, and had the sense to leap from the battlements in time. The guards closest to Drac'rad were killed instantly by the spell, and even Norid was injured as pieces of the mortar and stone came down on him. Drac'rad went through one of the stone tower-walls, hit the other, and fell over twenty feet to the ground. His helmet was cracked, but its enchantment held. However, his left gauntlet was gone, and he was extremely close to unconciousness. He was knocked out only by the tower collapsing on top of him.

Norid looked at the ground around him, and saw something that he hadn't noticed before. There was a small shadowy form in the alleyway between the Mages Guild, and the building beside it. He tried to stand, but found that his right leg was almost useless. It wasn't hurt, but a large chunk of mortar had lodged it in place for the time being. Instead, he nothcd an arrow and fired it at the figure, which seemed to look in his direction just as he shot it. The form moved out, almost as though the arrow went through it, and its red eyes brought chills to even Norid's bones.

The figure was no taller than a Bosmer, but seemed different somehow. He was hooded, cloaked, and carried a strange weapon, the likes of which Norid had never seen. However, as the Argonian Assassin laid his eyes on the mysterious device, the figure pulled it under his cloak. The form didn't speak at first spoke, but he did kick the stone away, and cast a small white spell that instantly returned Norid's strength.

"Your bother is dying. He is held alive only by pure luck; the crates in there are supporting the stones for now, but he is unconcious. No matter how much you dislike him, you must help him, or all will be lost. You have your chance, but you won't be able to clear the tower away in time. Be creative; you will not have to choose between the destruction of this town, or the life of your last brother, but you will have to be quick. That creature is not the first of its kind. Once the deed is done, I will kill the lich commanding that creature."

"Who-" but Norid was cut off as the hooded figure disappeared. He didn't think twice, and immediately knew what had to be done. However, he could see no way of allowing the Dreugh to come through the walls, clear the rubble of the tower, and then stop it from destroying the town.

However, he had a small idea, and he intended to test it. He had seen that figure before. Red eyes. Hooded cloak. Mysterious weapon. It was a legend in which the Der'ec family had believed for years. In the First Era, there was an Ayleid Necromancer who owned nearly a quarter of all the Cyrodilic Slaves. The slaver was said to practice his art on them. However, one of the experiments escaped, and disappeared. Unofficially, and beyond the scope of Historic Records, the person had helped in the Alessian Revolt. No one knew of his race, and few knew of his name. Norid didn't know, but there was one thing that he did know- the person's name meant "Hunter of the Darkness." He knew that the person had exceptional ability, and he knew that the person was the same one that the Ayleid Slaver had tested his spells on.

However, this one wasn't dead yet, according to legend.

((Before you PM me regarding this, highlight the following text. Note, however, that it contains spoilers as to my characters' backgrounds, and that I have explanations for everything, and that this new character is not truly unrealistic. Highlight: He is dead. The original one is indeed dead. He wasn't immortal. However, the original experiment is the ancestor of the mystery character mentioned above.

"Well," said Norid, standing up straight, only to find that most of his arrows were broken and his bowstring was gone, "I do know of that figure. That one helped the Cyrodilians in the Alessian Revolt. While I do not know why he would know seek to usurp the Empire's Glory, it is suspicious that he has not already killed the wizard controlling the beast. However, it is also strange that you choose to help me when I'm about to get killed. So what are you playing at, exactly? You're supposed to kill me, if I'm not mistaken, so you're not out to save me or my brother..." Norid had an idea of what Zakkon was after, but he didn't voice it.

"No matter. I know you heard what he said, and I assume that you are afraid of him. Why I'm even thinking of helping you, I don't know, but the Hunter is a dangerous being, whether or not he is on your side. I won't have a chance against him, and neither will you, and we'd probably lose with an entire army to back us up. Nevertheless, that is not the problem at hand. My plan is to let that thing breach the walls, and clear the rubble away. Nothing can possibly clear this away without immense strength, and that Dreugh has it, while comprimising with a large lack of speed. But-" he stopped here, as his eyes caught on something.

He walked over to a pile of rubble, cleared away some debris, and picked up a blue glove-like item.

"His gauntlet... Drac'rad's gauntlet. But he... Was there something I missed? No, no... I followed everything. The explosion... He was still wearing this when he went through the wall... It never fell. And this has no cracks on it. This can't be..."

He put it on, as though the test his theory, and something swirled in front of him, and then extended in a crescent shape, one point of which rested in the hand he wore the gauntlet on. A voice came from every direction; the same voice as the Hunter.

"A gift from Hircine, delivered by his top Hunter."

Norid looked at the weapon in his hand, and immediately discarded his shattered bow. The bow was not of Daedric, Glass, Ebony, Silver, Iron, Steel, Dwarven, or Elven make. It had an almost Elven touch to it, but it was very different. It was bluish, and the material used to make it was unknown to Norid. He pulled the bowstring back, and the bow folded backward without trouble. However, when he notched an arrow and fired it, it flew fifty feet, and buried itself halfway into the wall of the Mages Guild. It dropped half as fast as a normal arrow, and flew smoothly.

"Use it well," the voice was different this time, though Drac'rad heard it in his semi-concious thoughts, and knew it well...

Uther put down his glass of wine and thanked the bar tender

"And where are you headed sony?"

"
Don't knoww wherever the wind takes me "

With that Uther exited the pub got on his white stalion and rode off