Skyrim

Morgana rode down the road, she hadn't lost the imperials yet, she made her grey horse stop. She turned her around and summoned fire magic. The 2 imperial soldiers rode up, they held their swords, they were going to execute her without a fair trial. "You chose the wrong criminal." She aimed her flames at one of them, he dropped from his horse, his armour had been set alight. Morgana watched as the other jumped down to help his friend. She turned her horse back around and kicked, the grey horse started to gallop towards the city wall.

As she neared a bridge leading to the city of Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak and his soldiers, one of the guards approached her, a torch in hand, "Who goes there?" He called to her as her horse slowed to a walk. "Isolde Nirol, I wish to join the Stormcloaks." She called, not attempting to hide her Imperial accent. The guard begins to laugh, "An Imperial? Fighting for the Stormcloaks?" He managed to say through her laughter. "I suggest you don't turn me away. I'm a valuable asset to any army." She told him, he then lead her horse to the stables and helped her down. "We won't turn any brothers or sisters away." Morgana nodded to him before wrapping her furs around herself warmer and continued into the city. She was greeted by Candlehearth Hall and walked in instantly.

She was hit by the warmth and smell of foods and wine. Morgana sniffed it in, "I already like this inn." She climbed the stairs and sat, a waiting someone to bring her some wine and warm food. She noticed a Redguard woman and nodded to her as a greeting, then she noticed an Argonian but he had his back to her. "Some food, wine and a few hours of sleep. Ulfric can wait." She said to herself.

Dayolin walked to the the city gates. The bandits who asked him to pay a fee were so rude, they got blood on his shoes. They took a fireball but he quickly restored it with a rabbits soul. The gates were as large as ever though they were guarded especially heavily. "What do you want Dunmer?" The guard asked. "I just want to speak to Ulfric...or one of his war ministers. I have a proposition that may bring them a victory." The guard let him in.

The Nords always hated his kind, Talos knows why. The people all around him glared, at him. Surly the Nords would be happy to see a Dunmer mage? Of course not, none of them were open minded to new ideas. Dayolin still casually walked into the inn in the center of town. Walking in he headed straight to the innkeeper for a drink. "Four bottles of Black Briar mead." He looked at the other Nords in the inn. "Make that five." He placed down 125 septims before sitting at a table. Looking around the inn he saw three who were certainly not any local. A Redguard, an Argonian, and an Imperial. Drinking alone was, well of course, lonely and certainly these people were traveling alone.

"Imperial." he addressed the black haired woman. "How be it in Skyrim so far from your home? How about a drink, you look stressed?" Dayolin asked as he pushed of bottle of the expensive mead to the other side of the table.

Morgana looked at the Dunmer, he seemed to be inviting her over. Morgana stood and approached him, she sat across from him. Looking at the bottle and spinning it with her finger. "I'm Isolde Nirol, you are?" She introduced herself."And where do you think my home is?" She asked, scratching her neck. She took a sip of the mead and hid her distaste for the bitter. 'Would have much preferred Alto Wine, but Beggars can't be choosers.' She thought silently to herself.

Rexia looked up from her half-finished meal to see a strange array of people in the inn with her. The few times that she was in Windhelm before, Candlehearth Hall was dominated by Nords. To see an imperial, an argonian and believe it or not but an elf too, was unusual by anyone's standard. Being the curious little thief that she was, Rexia decided to investigate them. And what better way was to do that than striking a conversation?

"Hey Argonian, what brings you to Windhelm?" She asked, moving to sit with him as soon as she finished her meal. She took her wine with her, which was still half-full, but ordered some mead for the two of them nonetheless."It's strange to see your kind around these parts, no offence meant."

The wind slapped against Feylon's cheeks. He left Whiterun a day ago and his progress towards Windhelm had been slow uncomfortable. He had traveled a great distance since leaving Valenwood almost 2 months ago and now his body grew weary of travelling. Staying no longer than a night in some of the inns he passed through. Now all he wanted was a few days respite from the cold weather that had battered his body since arriving in the Northern province of Tamriel. Now weary from his travels he stood before the gate of the rebel city.

Two guards watched him as he approached. His fur cloak wrapped tightly around him desperately trying to retain what heat his body had left. Shivering he came to a stop at the gate before the two guardsmen. "What business does an elf seek in Windhelm?" snapped one of the guards. Shuddering he opened his mouth. "I seek shelter for the night and audience with Ulfric." The guards let out a howl of laughter as Feylon's face reddened with anger. "What makes you think Jarl Ulfric will have audience with an elf? What if you are an imperial spy? Perhaps we would be doing him a favour by killing you now". Feylon winced as the words reached him. Placing a hand on the hilt of his sword he shouted back to the guards. "You fools, I am not your enemy. Dare you turn down support for your cause? I stand here willing to join you and you speak as if you would not have me?" The guards looked at each other puzzled. A moment later they stepped aside and let Feylon proceed. However not without suspicious gazes.

Once he entered through the gates warmth filled his body. Sheltered from the harsh winds outside the walls he felt a little bit of heat seeping through his skin. It would be enough to to keep him from freezing to death but he needed more. He headed for the inn that stood in front of him. Pushing the door open an air of heat brushed across his cold face. Every bit of his body stung as the warm air battled with his freezing cold skin. Now he noticed the looks on the faces of the regular patrons. Disgust and hatred had filled them. He moved silently through the crowd as they mumbled words of hate and placed himself on a seat as far away from the Nords as possible.

"The Imperial City. Must be nice this time of year, though I haven't gone there for many years." Dayolin told her. Looking around the bar he spotted the Argonian and Redguard speaking to each other as well as a Bosmer. He was siting away from the Nords of coarse, maybe he was a mead drinker to. "Bosmer" He said across the room. "Why not have a drink over hear with a fellow elf?"

Morgana laughed. "The Imperial city was never my home, at least it never felt like it." She replied. "The North is my home now." She told him. She followed her gaze to the bosmer. "Is Ulfric getting desperate?" She turned back to the Dunmer. "What did you say your name was again?"

"I didn't" Dayolin sighed. "My name is Dayolin. As for that question the answer is simple. Magic. The only reason that the Aldmeri Dominion had defeated the Empire. One mage that specializes in the school of Destruction magic is easily worth 20 nord or imperial soldiers. Also if that mage is injured he can simply be healed by himself or another mage that specializes in the school of Restoration. If the army runs out of infantry mages who specialize in the school of Conjuration will simply summon more infantry to serve as fodder for the other mages. Ulfric is desperate only because he, like many nords, don't like the thought of using magic. The Bosmer obviously has no magical talent as I guess I am the only mage in the room. If Ulfric had at least 20 more mages he would win the war and may even be able to take it to the offensive so Skyrim can gain more territory. His pride is the only thing that stops him from doing so. I guess he thinks it would make them like the Thalmor." Dayolin finished speaking to take a drink of mead.

"Also the Empire can't get enough from the Mages Guild ever since the necromancers warred with it. Most soldiers have a problem with necromancy but I see no problem with it." He looked at his mead as he continued to drink.

"How do you know I'm not a mage?" She looked around, making sure no one was listening in. "I may even be a necromancer." She took another sip of the mead. "How long until Nords realise magic is a more effective weapon than any blade." She looked to the window and could see Palace of Kings. "It's kind of beautiful in the snow."

"Heh. I don't know about that. The blades I summon are pretty nice." He said jokingly. "So tell me. If you were necromancer, what type would you be?" That was always what it came down to. If he ever met one that created black soul gems he would gladly strike them down without hesitation. The Empire made it illegal for a reason and who knows what happened to the souls once they were in Soul Cairn. Dayolin looked outside the window. The snow was like all snow, being here means that he was eventually going to spill imperial blood on.

After the the imperial left Dayolin was alone. The Bosmer rejected his offer, instead choosing to be a loner. What was there to do? Dayolin had not been tired as the training from the Blades broke the habit of long sleeps out of him. He looked through his side bags to see how many soul gems he had left. Two common and one greater. Might as well finish that scroll that he had been working on, then head outside the walls to find an animal soul to replenish his amount of gems.

Walking through the woods he saw torch light. Odd, who could be traveling at this time of night. Still in the bushes he saw them. Thalmor Justiciars. They apparently had no idea he was there, but he would never pass up a chance to kill a Justiciar. Once they passed within three quarters distance of himself he tossed a fireball at the leading Justiciar. They scattered with what looked like the leader lying face first in the snow. The others scattered to the trees still not knowing where their attack was. Dayolin took out a scroll that contained a more powerful summoning. In a moment he summoned a Draugr Scourge Lord in his line of sight behind the trees. Dayolin commanded it to attack the Justiciar to his opposite side. While it fought the Thalmor, losing by the looks of it though buying time none the least, Dayolin threw a chain lightning bolt at the Justiciar at his right flank. It hit both of them but the enemy threw an ice spike that nearly drilled through his head. He returned the Thalmor's spell with an ice spear that killed on impact. Quickly he drank a a low grade magica potion before focusing on the last one. Then it hit. The last Thalmor killed his Drauger and threw a lightning bolt at Dayolin's side. He shot an ice spike at his deeply injured foe, killing him when it hit.

The lightning caused some bleeding and drained much of the little magica that he had left. Dayolin searched through the bodies only to find one weak healing potion. He drank it greedily, but it did little for the wound. Plopping on the ground he felt pissed that he only had enough magica to close the wound. This would not have happened if he took more potions with him. He would survive for now, the wound posed no threat as long as he didn't push himself too far. The battle most likely cause commotion to any on the out side of the wall. He was close to the walls so maybe somebody would hear him if he cried for help. "Help! Somebody! Help!" It hurt intensely to speak in such a loud voice. He hoped somebody would come soon.