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The Shadow in the Dark.
A little bit of info on who's who and what's what.
Circle of Nine: A group of nine of the most powerful liches from all over Tamriel, lead by the most powerful. They seek the destruction of the living, and to rule over all of Nirn with an undead Empire.​
They often recruit the living to do their dirty work for them, cultists and Daedra worshipers, fighting to bring about the ruin of the world.​
The Shadow Fang Coven: A powerful coven of vampires, living in the restored Bloodlet Throne, lead by Salthar Vivarian. Although they too are undead, rather than trying to destroy the world of the living, the wish to influence it through deceit, murder, and subterfuge. Considering mortals beneath them, the forces of the coven are entirely undead. Over the decades, the covens' influence has spread from Skyrim to the Somerset Isles. Interestingly enough, very few of these vampires have ties to Molag Bal.​
The Rangers Guild: A group of warriors, trained in the woodland arts, all of which have an almost unnatural affinity with nature and beasts. They have taken a solemn oath to defend the forests and fields of Tamriel. Although mostly stationed in Skyrim, rangers have been known to travel to High Rock and Hammerfell on occasion.​
The Soul Reaver: A sword forged in the First Era, this blade has been hidden well under the surface of Tamriel, this blade is capable of ripping the soul from any enemy it encounters, and once the blade has filled it's quota of souls, it releases a powerful arcane explosion, obliterating the wielders enemies in seconds.​
Morghul: A devoted follower of Molag Bal, Morghul has devoted his entire life to finding the Soul Reaver. Now that he has achieved permission and a small army from the Circle of Nine, his 'masters' the champion of Bal leads his army in a search for the fabled blade, eager to end all life on Nirn.​
Navir Fellheart: A Dunmer vampire, Navir both mistrusts and dislikes Salthar Vivarian and his motives. Under orders to get the Soul Reaver and return it to the Bloodlet Throne, Navir sets out with a host of Undead at his command. However, the scheming Dark elf may have other ideas for the outcome of the mission.​
Aldran Goldblade: The great-great grandson of Arthonir Goldblade, Aldran has heard disturbing reports of Undead forces massing near Falkreath. Fearing for the innocent people of that often attacked and terrorized town, he and his comrades head to Falkreath to support the local guards.​
This story is set in Skyrim, in the 301st year of the Fourth Era. Much in Skyrim has changed, new settlements and cities set up and new Jarls named. Bear with me if you see the name of an unfamiliar city or town.​


The Shadow in the Dark.
Marching Orders
4E 301​
21st of Hearthfire​
The Bloodlet Throne​
Navir Fellheart swept through the torch lit hallways of the Bloodlet throne. The Dunmer warrior was not particularly tall, nor heavily built, but he could more than handle himself in a fight, as dozens of dead enemies would say if they could speak. His silky black hair flowed down to his shoulders, and his narrow, pale grey face held a pair of bright red eyes, that glared ahead as he walked. He wore a shirt of ebony mail, that jingled as he moved, and at his hip rested a straight long sword, also made of ebony. A mix of rain and snow hammered against the glass windows, and outside, the wind howled as loudly as if a pack of werewolves had been set loose in the castle. His cloak, a black thing that matched with his leather boots, gloves and the ebony that made up his chain mail.​
This day, the vampire was in a particularly foul mood. Not that anything bad had happened to put him in such a mood. He was simply in a bad mood, and it didn't help that he'd been summoned by the leader of the coven, Salthar Vivarian. The Altmer Vampire lord was nearing his three hundredth year of existence, but neither his mind nor his fighting prowess had dulled. However, despite the vampire lords' various accomplishments, Navir didn't like him. Especially since he was Thalmor, and the Thalmor had ruined the Dark elf's mortal life, when they stormed his family's house, murdering his two brothers, parents and baby sister. They'd captured Navir, for public execution, but somehow, Vivarian had gotten him released into Skyrim, where the young Dunmer had been turned into a creature of the night.​
Navir believed that it would have been better to die, but he served faithfully. He'd seen what had become of those that thought to challenge the dark lord. Either mortal or vampire, they'd died horribly. Especially if the challenger had been a Nord. The Dunmer warrior had no clue what Nords' had done to make Salthar hate them with such a passion, but he did, and constantly invented new ways of torture and killing to use on them. Standing before the door to the throne room, Navir sighed in resignation, and lifted his fist to knock. Before he could, a voice from the other side of the door called "enter" and the Dunmer pushed the door open, spotting the lord of the Shadow Fang coven standing near the center of the room, in his full black, gold and red Thalmor regalia, arms clasped behind him.​
"Ah, young Navir, how pleasant it is to see you again" the vampire lord said as if Navir had chosen to come, instead of been summoned. Having nothing to say that wouldn't insult his leader, the Dunmer simply bowed. Instead of continuing with meaningless pleasantries, like most of his kind did, the Altmer vampire simply asked "what do you know of the sword known as 'Soul Reaver?" The question was sharp and direct, which was in itself unlike Salthar. That and the fact that the normally calm and collected vampire was pacing back and forth in front of Navir. Thinking quickly, the younger vampire realized he knew woefully little of the legendary blade. " Forged in the First Era, dissapeared sometime in that Era as well" Salthar glanced sharply at the other vampire, his gold-red eyes gleaming fiercely. "Dissapeared, or was hidden?" The Altmer said, so quietly that Navir assumed he was speaking to himself. Still the Dunmer vampire could only shake his head helplessly.​
Then Salthar shrugged as if it didn't matter and continued. "My...sources have heard rumors that a blade of immense power has been discovered by Nord archeoligists somewhere in the ruined cities under Skyrim" Navir shrugged as if it didn't matter, and truly, it didn't. Nords' mistrusted magical artifacts at the best of times, and were immensely superstitious about artifacts found in ancient Nord cities. Narrowing his eyes, Salthar added "and whispers have it that the Circle of Nine know about the Soul Reaver as well" that bit of information had the younger vampires' eyes widening. The Circle of Nine was seen as an insult to vampires everywhere. A mockery of the true lords of undeath. A quiet, but nevertheless deadly shadow war had been going on between the two factions, Shadow Fang agents across Tamriel desperately seeking for the Circle's base of operations, while Circle agents did their best to stop them.​
"Then our spies are still unable to find their base?" Inquired the dark elf, wondering if that was to be his mission. Salthar made a face "I'm starting to wonder if their base is even on Tamriel. There are other areas on Nirn that they could be" shaking his head, the Altmer vampire focused back on the Dunmer. "Your task is to find the Soul Reaver and bring it to me," another vampire strode forward, holding a black gauntlet that was clearly magically enchanted, as could be seen by the scatterings of shattered black soul gem. "You'll also need this, in order to hold the weapon" Navir nodded, accepting the gauntlet and slipping it onto his right hand. "You'll have a hundred of our blood kin, as well as two hundred zombies and a couple dozen shades....you leave tonight" Navir bowed and turned for the door, heading to the gates, eager to be gone while the night was still young.​
Once Navir had departed, Salthar asked " Did you get all of that?" The Nord vampire, tall, splendid looking in a neatly trimmed beard and ebony armour, with two axes, also of ebony hanging in belt loops. The mans' eyes were a dark blue, and his hair and beard black. His name was Valmir Iceclaw, one of Salthar's most loyal soldiers. " Go with his force, obey his orders, but remember what to do if he get's out of line"Instructed the vampire lord, dismissing the Nord vampire with a wave.​
The Imperial City, Cyrodiil​
Morghul moved quickly and quietly through the dark alleyways of the Imperial City, his cloak wrapped around him to conceal the blood red Daedric armour that marked him as a champion of Molag Bal. He hated the need to hide his true identity from the masses, and dreamed of the day when the Circle and their servants would take the world from the rest of the living. Although a champion of Molag Bal, Morghul was no vampire. He'd been blessed with greater stamina, and he could swing the great mace at his side with one hand, where as a lesser mortal, even one at the peak of his strength would need both hands to lift the weapon, never mind swing it. His face and head were clean shaven and under one arm, he held the horned Daedric helmet, also in blood red.​
He was not afraid of the Imperial City guard, for most of them were so corrupt, they hardly glanced your way, given you tossed a few septims their way. No, it was the vampires roaming the streets that worried him. Agents from the Shadow Fang coven lurked in dark shadows, searching for the Circles' base of of operation in Tamriel. The champion had to be careful that none followed him to their base. Normally, vampires would never have been permitted inside the city, but times had changed. Ever since the Aldmeri Dominion had ravaged the coastline of Cyrodiil on their way to Skyrim, the Imperials had panicked, sending out a fleet to attack, only to be crushed by a larger, fleet of Aldmeri dreadnoughts. After the death of Ulfric Stormcloak, the Thalmor forces had moved in on High Rock, which had surrendered to the Dominion without a fight. Thus, the Empire had shrunk again.​
Morghul and the others of his cult loved it. They could move nearly in freedom, without worrying about attacks by the Imperial Legion. However, it meant the same for the vampires, both the Cyrodiil Vampyrum Order, who'd allied with the Shadow Fang coven. Morghul moved through the city, until he reached the Talos district. Moving to a tomb stone, he knocked the hilt of his mace against the stone, which moved aside, revealing a narrow stair. Glancing around one last time, the man moved down into the catacombs that crisscrossed under the Imperial city. This was the true headquarters of the Circle. Or one of them, at least. To Morghuls' knowledge, they also had a base on Akavir as well. Wandering down the hallways until he arrived at the audience chamber of the great lich, Tahar Aldrin. No more than one lich was ever in the same area, except when they came together in times of war, or the most powerful of the nine, (which was always changing) summoned them.​
Kneeling, the champion placed his helmet in front of him, and bowed his head. "You summoned me, my lord?" the man didn't dare look up until he was told to rise.​
The lich, his voice high pitched and rasping, " The Nords in Skyrim have stumbled across something they do not, cannot, understand. A blade forged, and lost, in the First Era" Morghul glanced up in surprise, not daring to believe what he was hearing. "The Soul Reaver...." the Imperial looked up to see his master nodding in agreement. "Yes, my friend...the blade that can bring down the world of the living, dozens of lives at a time..." The lich was extremely thin, wearing resplendent purple robes, with a black circle and skull stitched on them. Most of his skin had rotted away to bone, and his eyes had been replaced by a magical red glow. As skeletal and frail as the creature was, Tahar had immense magical powers, and his grasp could paralyze an enemy.​
Lifting a single, thin, finger, the creature stated " our enemies, those vampires in the Shadow Fang coven have also heard of it's discovery, although they don't know where it is either" the champion nodded, standing and guessing " you want my men and I to recover it before the vampires?" This had been Morghuls' life dream, to bring about the fall of the known world. Approvingly the lich nodded, and said "not only your men, but a hundred unaligned, and several wizards under the command of your son" Morghul snapped his eyes toward the lich. "No.Not my son. No wizards at all" the lichs' eyes glowed dangerously.​
"You will do as you are commanded" and the champion bowed, fearing he'd crossed a line. But his master merely rasped out a laugh. "He and your men await you in the courtyard" fuming silently, Morghul took his leave.​
His son, Illith, was a mage, powerful, no doubt, but in the service of Boethiah. Molag Bals' enemy. Morghul had hoped that his son would grow to become a mighty warrior like himself, to continue his legacy, but his son had chosen to worship Boethiah. Approaching the host of cultists and warriors, he signaled for them to move out, following the catacombs to the edge of the city, and leaving under the cover of darkness.​


Active Member
Dude, I cannot tell you how fast I clicked on this when I saw you had written another story,and I`m glad I did because I was not disappointed.;)


The Shadow in the Dark.
Lol, thanks man. This is just something I'll be writing at the same time as I work on The Return.:)

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