Ok, as a preface I want to mention that I do not write fantasy and this is my first attempt. I wrote this short bit over the span of four days and there may seem to be a changes in pace or feel, for that I apologize, it is still a rough copy and needs to be edited. I started off very historically and full of facts and skipping details, then I decided to start writing a bit of a narrative near the end of this excerpt.
This is not a complete version, it still needs to be finished, but I am posting it half-complete. I will edit and add to it a lot in the near future. Just because this is my first, doesn't mean I don't know how to write at all
I will work on this more soon.
In 3E 200, Empress Katariah dies in a conspiracy drenched incident in Black Marsh. The conspiracy states that she and her Blades were in Black Marsh, combatting a branch of the Septim family that had hated that a foreigner had taken the throne. What the historians and scholars never knew was that Katariah was protecting an illegitimate child of her son, Cassynder with a dunmer consort. The child was born in a time of racist death threats on the family and subversive turmoil in the empire.The child had to be hidden from those who wanted to take the throne violently. The disenfranchised branch of the Septim family got wind of the young child and did not want it to one day be emperor. They attacked, but thankfully Katariah was able to intercept the assassins and safeguard the child.
The child was relocated to Morrowind and placed in a foster home with retired blades members as they watched over him from a distance. As the years went by, the threat dissipated and the protection was no longer needed. The Dunmer man lived his life, never knowing his true royal lineage.
240 years later
The Magnar family had endured the eruption of Red Mountain and shortly before the argonian invasion, the Magnar clan left Morrowind in search of a new home. Following popular trade routes, the family became nomads, finding shelter where they could and finding work was just as hard after the collapse of the empire. After many years they finally settled in Riverhold, Elsweyr.
In 4E 156, Second Seed, Droam Magnar was born in a modest home to modest parents under the stars of the shadow. Droam spent his childhood playing among the young khajiit in his neighbourhood. A tamrielic version of hide and seek was his favourite game and he became as subtle as his feline friends in blending with the shadows.
The Magnar family eventually had been able to contact old, influential family friends in the Imperial City. Droam was sent to the College of Whispers for tutelage. In his graduate year in the college, Droam was friends with Jo'Ahnia, a khajiit healer who tutored him in alchemy and restoration. Droam also had an old altmer mage as his destruction master. His name was Falcar and he looked like he hadn't smiled in 300 years. Droam only had an average knowledge of destruction magic and time and time again, he found that he can fool his teacher into thinking he is doing well by using strong illusion spells which he enjoyed casting and it came to him naturally.
On the day that apprentices are tested to prove their worthiness in becoming mages, Droam tricked Falcar by using an advanced illusion spell he had been learning. Falcar later found out and was furious, he searched all over for Droam, but couldn't find him. Falcar stormed into Jo'Ahnias private quarters and demanded to know the dunmers location. Falcar was not getting the answer he wanted, and in a fit of rage, was about to kill the khajiit with a powerful fire breath spell. Droam was able to remain undetected and slipped in behind Falcar. Seeing what he was about to do, Droam grabbed the daedric tanto that was at Falcars hip and slipped it deep in-between the second and third veterbrae in the back of Falcars neck. The fire spell moved up from his gut and was blocked by the blade in his throat. Pulling the tanto out, he saw the blade had been transformed. The blade was once a black metal, now looked molten with cracks of dynamic fire like magma bubbling, but keeping its shape. The weapon was surrounded by an arcane flame that condensed into the blade, changing it's form once more. As the power of the fire was being absorbed into the blade, it took the sleek gloss of obsidian. The daggers magic settled down and was locked inside, enchanting the daedric tanto with an obsidian blade many times sharper than the sharpest steel. A faint flickering tongue of flame danced in the core of the blade, keeping the whole dagger warm to the touch.
Droam takes the dagger with him and flees the Imperial City. He travels, always at night, across cyrodiil. Looking for work, food, always keeping out of sight of the guards. He is wanted for murder of a high ranking official of the mages guild, the guards all across the empire know his name.
One night while traveling through Bruma, Droam stops to rest at a local inn. Drinking in a shady corner of the dreary place, he was approached buy a tall old man named Rolf.
"Brynjolfr, the tavern owner, tells me you and I could do some business."
Droam looks up just a bit to not show his face beneath his cloak and remains silent. Rolf continues, "What? are you deaf? The owner saw your face, and thought you looked familiar."
Droams eyes squinted, he slowly moves his hand to grasp the blade of "Aduro", his tanto.
"Listen! Listen! I am not here to rat you out!" Rolf pulls up a chair and then quiets his voice down. "I know everyone in this inn right now, and if you go ahead and reach for whatever it is you're hiding under there, you may kill me but you will not make it out of here alive."
Droam pauses, then smoothly sets his hands back on the table and takes another swig of ale, looks up at the nord, "Business?"
"That's the spirit! Now listen, only Brynjolfr recognized you and he only told me. You are the Dark Elf that killed that mages guild guy right?"
Droam just stares back at him and says, "And what if I was?"
Rolf smirks, "And what if I said I can clear your name for you?"
"Then I would ask your terms."
"Ah, yes, there is always a price for everything." As Rolf rubs his thumb and index finger together. "I can see that you no longer have a bounty. If you lay low, the guards will even forget you even existed."
"How can I trust you?" Droam was understandably skeptical about a Nord he never met in a strange tavern. Let alone that they know who he is and the bounty on his head.
"Doesn't seem like you have any lee-way in the matter. So let me start you off; the bounty on your head, well… let's say it's quite substantial. You don't have the gold for such a payment. But there may be something you can do for me…"
Droam looks at Rolf in the eyes this time, letting him see the deep red and grave features of his face, the intimidation didn't budge the nord, but the point got across.
Rolf continues, "Well, I won't tell you now. The guards are on their way. BUT if you can get past them and meet me behind the Hammer and Axe; we'll talk."
Rolf gets up, walks to the bar, whispers a little something to the barkeep. He looks back, then with no change in expression, walks out just as 4 guards walk in.