In a savaged land known as Skyrim, there lies an uneasy city known as Markarth. Within the streets is a Khajiit in steel armor with a shiny greatsword weighted on his back. This nameless cat-warrior is lost while staring at the letter he received only a week ago. The sender made his identity anonymous for some reason. This makes the warrior more lost than ever, and it is giving him a headache. He decided he have no other choice but to ask around about the location of this "Vlindrel Hall" the letter instructed him to go.
"Hey you, Guard. Can I ask for your assistant? I'm looking for..."
"Why are in the city, cat? Get out and go back to your smuggling caravans", the guard sneered to the lost and now irritated Khajiit.
"I have business to attend to. I also have the right to go where I pleased", the Khajiit reply in a threatening tone.
"Be careful what you say, cat. You might end up in Cidhna mine. Now what sort of business are you talking about?". At that, the Khajiit handed the letter to the guard. He began reading it slowly as if to expect there's a hidden message.
"... Acquire your assistance... Reach... Vlindre...", the guard caught his throat. He hastily handed the letter back to the Khajiit. "The place is near the market place. You'll find some sets of stairs. Go to the very top. And... beware of the owner of that residence. You do not want to anger him. Not for your sake, but for everyone's sake". At that the guard turned and left the Khajiit with a raised eyebrow. He shrugged it off and gone to exactly what the spooked guard told him.
The Khajiit came across a large dwarven door to what seems like a medium sized residence compared to the other buildings in this unwelcoming canyon. The Khajiit looked around to make sure if no one's eyeing him suspicious. He sighed and raises his fist to knock. A clear slightly deep voice appeared from within the residence.
"You ranged? Oh... how impulsive of me... those devises don't even exist in this world. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!", spoken the door. "But please... come on in. I'm sure you're confused by my letter, Mr. Do' Rasniir.
Rasniir couldn't believe this. How on Nirn did this encrypting man heard him, through a metallic door no less. Is he a fellow khajiit, but with sharper senses? Rasniir reluctantly opens and steps into Vlindrel Hall. He made sure his trusty sword is close at hand.
"Hello. Welcome to Vlindrel Hall, one of my many homes all across Skyrim. I hope you find a lot of comfort during your time here. There was a lot of... expenses put into this place", the voice reappear as Rasniir travels up a set stairs and into a large room. In the middle of it stands a cloaked man wearing a strange iron mask. He's likely a mage for he have no weapons near or such. Rasniir observed this as well, but he was still shocked by the door and the outlandish items all over this room. These items Rasniir can recognized from Daedric to Ancient Nordic. The masked man noticed Rasniir's shock and he merely chuckled a little. "I'll just leave you to yourself, so you can adapt and make it easier for both of us. Enjoy yourself to a meal or a good book. I will be in my lab. Try not to touch anything strange or new to you", spoken the man as he hastily walk into a room full of what seems to be dwarven machine parts, paperwork, blueprints, and different live insects in jars.
Rasniir was not only shocked, but now he's lost. He just looks around himself as he sees a whole new world of treasures, magical items, and artifacts from different timelines and worlds. He sees a dwarven shield with a shiny blue orb in it's center, above the fireplace. Would your idiot brother love to have something like that, thought Rasniir. He turns and lets out a whistle when he sees a mannequin bearing a cloak and a mask that is similar to the mysterious man's. It looks majestic, yet sinister.
Meanwhile, within a lab of the same residence. A hero behind a mask was searching throughout the area for the gift he made for his soon to be apprentice, Rasniir. He could of sworn he stored it in one of his sacks or a drawer. Just somewhere in here... Or was it left in another home. Perhaps the Volkihar Castle? No why! That's where he left... never mind that old... annoying... jester! Where is that stupid... purple... piece of Mora's tenta...
Back to Rasniir, whom was searching through the kitchen/ alchemy center for some grub and such. He can hear within the lab that his masked host is searching from up to down for something. He shrugged it off as you found the perfect thing to munch on. A large, purple fish-thing. He guessed it is a Cyrodilic whatchamacaldit. Rasniir impulsively started cooking it without the owner's permission for he is clearly busy. While the khajiit left it above a fire, he started to have a quick look at the book selves nearby.
Rasniir seen titles that all seem informative on the shelves. There was a certain title that you gain interest enough to pull it out and start reading into, "Killing Before You're Killed".
Back at the lab, the masked hero was getting frustrated with his own thoughts and their own thoughts. All he wants to find is that stupid purple salmon and feed it to his guess before Mister Know-It-All checks in. And to top it off... ... Oh... look. Lydia's corpse is lying on the ground under his desk. He remembers that humorous thing he cast on her when she was undead until he kill her again by accidental reasons.
The Masked Hero resurrected Lydia. She levitated up and begins that irritating series of groans. The Masked Hero was nearly disgusted to see half of her face already decayed to the skull as well as her shoulders. He shooked it off and then cast a Illusion spell he created for his humorous needs. The undead slave named Lydia started dancing like that old jester friend of his. That we shall not mention anymore!
The Masked Hero took this dance to be rather calmly, but he hate the idea of Lydia being an undead slave. After all, she did serve him well as luggage... I mean Housecarl. The next thing that happens in his head is a flashback. In this back of a flash is twenty years back. Within a Forsworn camp. As our once-hero was about to take a big, final swing to a Briarheart. Lydia ran in front of him.
Back in the present and outside of the lab, Rasniir harshly shoves the book back to it's shelf. He clearly disagrees with the author. Big weapons keep you alive, not stupid shields and weak weapons. More damage equals more likely to cause pain and disable your opponent. Not to mention healing spells and potions if you want a weaker weapon.
Rasniir got back to his now cooked fish. It now bears a darker purple from before with some black singed spots. It smelled just like a good fried fish back at the dock life in Morrowind. Yet something else is smelling on the fish, thought Rasniir. It smelt of something new and strange. The cat decided to go ahead and cut open the salmon to see if it's rotten or such. The flesh looks fresh and good to this khajiit, because he started placing it on a already prepared plate set up near the dwarven fireplace.
Back at the lab, the Masked Hero was now getting downright frustrated with himself, Lydia's clumsiness, and the stupid Dovah-fish.
"Where is that damned purple thing!", he cursed in his thought. The Masked Hero checks the barrels, no Dovah-Fish. He crouched to see under his desk, nothing remotely purple there. Except for that amethyst, but that's useless now. The Masked Hero picks it up anyway and puts it in a pocket for habits' sake. He then came to a conclusion that the fish must have been in the kitchen/ alchemy room by mistake. In the very room, that his guest is already rummaging through. He shoves Lydia out of the way, which she fell and broke a arm and neck.
The Masked Hero hastily opens the door to find Rasniir about to gulp the Dovah-Fish without proper preparations nor procedures. The Masked Hero was deciding what to do, if only he have more time. He then remembers the power he wields.
"TIID KLO UL!", shouted the Masked Hero as time itself slowed down for him. Rasniir was still trying to eat the cooked Dovah-Fish. With a quick mind, the Masked Hero takes the amethyst he found minutes ago and threw it at Rasniir's head to grab his attention. The gem missed by a league and lands in the fireplace. Useless! He knew he should had more time with Archery or something. The Slow Time shout reached it's limit and time came back to normal speed for Rasniir to gulp the purple fish.
Rasniir swallowed the purple salmon, he immediately began to have spasms as he sees everything in his vision. All flashing before his amber eyes. He fell back, breaking the chair he was sitting in, and began spitting and shaking all over the rug made straight from Cyrodil. The Masked Hero just stood and watch the possible demise of this potential apprentice. Oh, the things Mora will say about this for years to come.
Rasniir made a gasp and fell his head back and fell eyes closed from the visions. Within the dark recesses of his dreams... a wretched abyss appeared before him, but it soon disappeared and left Rasniir alone until he awoke. If he will ever wake from this.
