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After Oblivion: Adventures of a Dark Elf	By : Syentaru Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Oblivion Views: 13978 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the Elder Scrolls series. All rights and credit goes to Bethesda. I make no money from this fanfiction, this is purely for entertainment. Please rate and comment, and critiquing is encouraged!

Chapter List
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“I think your tale needs a bit of clarification," Clavicus Vile continued, looking down at the adventurers. "The power of Kulin’s Blade nearly drove poor Ameral mad with ambition, so I had to take away what he treasured, or he would never deliver his end of our bargain. When he was so wracked with guilt that he actually came to give the sword, he thought he would use it one last time, to feel its immense power that had been with him for so long. He sought the entrance to my realm with it, crying out in glee when he realized that he was standing over the very spot, the place where he is now buried. I couldn’t stop the curse on the blade, or the stream of daedra flowing down the ridge, the one that is coming now for you. And I did not return his bride, since the sword still resides in the mortal realm. If you can best these creatures charging you now, I will take the sword, ending our pact.” He then disappeared, but they could hear his laughter echoing off of the mountain tops around them, as a rumble indicated the presence of a large number of lesser daedra heading for them.
            “Come on, we can take a couple daedra,” Gwen said, unsheathing Ember, her trusty amber long sword. Rowan readied his hammer, taking a defensive stance and bellowing a challenge to the swarm rushing down over the ridge. The dunmer counted thirty in all,
including every type of daedra she knew of, even some dremora running with them, shouting commands in their terrible, raspy voices.
            Shadowmere did not feel fear, not like what she smelled coming from her two companions. They would never admit to their nerves or worries, not even to themselves, but the mare sensed it, and took up a position in front of the other two. She was a legend, unable to be bested in battle by any mere creature wandering this plane of existence. Let them come, she thought icily, I will show them the ferocity legends are made of.
            The first wave came, made up of daedroth and spider daedra. Gwen’s trusty mount reared, bringing her hooves down square into the face of the lizard-like foes, then trampled the spiders. Rowan made short work of any enemy that got in range of his steady hammer swing. He was more precise than when they had fought in the Arena, making her think he really had held back the entire time. Gwen spun and parried, her sword striking true each time she swung, felling enemies on all sides. The rest of the assaulting creatures included the higher ranked xivilai, along with the dreaded dremora, who could do a great deal of damage if left unchecked.
            Gwen rolled under Shadowmere’s hooves, coming up to stand in front of the mare, blocking a blast of lightning from a dremora lord. The bolt stung, but was mostly taken care of by her shield. She jumped off a rock, landing with all her body weight on the human like creature. It spit vitriolic at her, then attempted to stab her with a concealed dagger as she struggled to get to her feet.
            The dagger burned deep into her side, but she bit back any cries of pain, only running the daedra through with Ember, then ripping out her sword and using it on an enemy attempting to sneak up behind her. She delved into her magic then, not for healing, but destruction. Dunmer were especially skilled in that particular arcane art, which was apparent as fireball after fireball shot from her hands, killing the last of the creatures that were giving the other two trouble.
            When it was over, and the last xivilai had fallen, Gwen dropped to her knees, grunting and holding her side in pain while the blood oozed out, staining the white snow under them.
            “Gwen! Are you hurt? What happened? Can’t you heal?” Rowan began a stream of worried questions, unsure of how to help his companion.
            “I’ll be f-fine….” the dark elf tried to smile, but grimaced as standing only made her wound burn more. “It m-must have been p-poisoned, the blade I mean. I h-have a potion, in the saddle b-bags,” she managed to get out, before falling unconscious into the snow, her eyes rolling back into her head. Before she hit the ground, she briefly regretted not purchasing a spell to cure poisonous wounds at the Arcane University, never thinking she’d have a need for it since she had numerous potions for such an incident.
            “No, Gwen! But, which one is it?” Rowan cried as he rifled through the bags, Shadowmere trying to stand still for him even though she too, was very worried. There had never been anything Gwen couldn’t handle. She was the Champion of Cyrodiil. Rowan thought fleetingly of using the sword to find the potion quicker, but that could put them in an even worse mess.
            “Oh, what a pity, she had to be the one to give the sword over, you know, since she has carried it the longest out of the three of you.” Clavicus Vile came from around a large boulder, seeming to study his nails. “You all did very well to get here, and as much as I want what is rightfully mine, it isn’t in me to break an oath,” he smiled maliciously. “Unless you wish to make another pact. You could wish for me to heal her, in return for a service.”
            Rowan’s eyes became as hard as steel, glaring so violently towards the daedric lord thatthe magical being took a step back for a moment, before returning the glare. “I will not be intimidated by a mere beast, minotaur! It may have been Hircine that gave you speech, which puts you under his dominion, but don’t think I won’t attack one of his followers if I thought it were threatening me!” he said, stamping his boot in the deep snow. He regained control of himself, saying, “I will give you ten minutes to reconsider my offer, which is about how long your friend has to live.” With that, he walked off and disappeared.
            Rowan seemed to have exhausted his search, then sank to his knees next to the dark elf. “Gwen, you have to tell me which one it is,” he pleaded helplessly. “You’re potions aren’t marked, except for different colored stoppers, and odd dunmer writing.”
            His voice seemed to have roused her for the moment. Gwen lifted her head, her eyes puffy, then said, “Show Shadowmere the bottles with blue stoppers. Those are my anti-poison and anti-paralysis potions. And where is Azura? She was supposed to meet us here. She has never broken an oath before,” Gwen mumbled, taking the Azura’s Star soul gem out of her pocket. “Where are you? We’re here, and ready. We need help now.” She began to black out again, just before seeing a glowing dot in the sky, that seemed to get brighter with every ragged breath she took.
            “Gwen, I found it! Gwen? Gwen!” Rowan shouted, lifting the girl onto Shadowmere’s back. Tipping her head back, he poured the potion into her open lips, which were starting to turn an unhealthy blue-black, since blue was almost normal for a dunmer. When she did not stir, he began to lose hope. “Daedra, where are you? Come out of hiding! We brought you the sword. Now take it!” He threw the sword into the snow, but it lifted itself and flew back towards them, landing hilt-first with a dull thud on Gwen’s chest, which would have made any conscious person groan.
            “We are here, minotaur,” Azura said, appearing before him. “Bring her down the hill, to where the other mortal was buried. And do not worry,” the daedric prince said with a smile, “we will not be burying your friend today. The potion needs time to do its work, since it is one of her early, self-crafted ones.” They walked down the hill, the ethereal forms of the other daedric princes following, Peryite gliding down on the thermals flowing through the mountain range. Sheogorath was nowhere to be seen, but Gwen would know why, if she had been awake. Rowan did not even notice the absence of the mad god, but if he had been there, his presence would have been abundantly apparent.
            “It is good to see one of my kind working towards such a noble cause. You hunt well,” Hircine said, smiling benevolently down upon Rowan, who cradled Gwen in his arms. He would have dropped to one knee to show his respects, but honoring his lord was a second thought during such a perilous and momentous moment.
            “Lay her down there, and put the sword in her hand, minotaur,” Azura said, the others looking on with respect. “We never wanted a mortal man to have possession of such a weapon, so when we felt it go dormant, we thought all was well. It is true, we sent a few more daedra after him, to test his strength and make sure it never fell into the wrong hands. We also had to cover its history, as anyone with evil intent and the slightest magical training could use the sword to undo one of us,” she said, turning to silence a few of her kind that snorted at the thought of being done in by a mere mortal. “But when I felt Gwen, a follower and receiver of my gift, take the sword from that wizard’s home, I knew that it was time to return the blade. Clavicus Vile keeps the mortal Nerala safe in his realm. She is unaware that any time has passed, so she will probably wish to join her husband on the other side. We can make this possible without her physical death, for we will move her soul directly from Vile’s realm to the world beyond, where they can be rejoined, if that is her wish.” A few of the less scrupulous characters sighed with disgust at the sap story they were being forced to sit through.
            “Get to the point, Azura,” Malacath said, only to be silenced by the more benign daedric lords and a glare from the more powerful Azura, since they were near the land of Morrowind, where she was highly revered.
            “Now, I awaken Gwen, the courageous dunmer and hero of Tamriel. Fulfill the pact, but be careful. We will be right here,” Azura said, standing over the woman’s body and casting a very powerful spell on the girl.
            Gwen sat bolt upright, looking around with a dazed expression on her face. “How did we?... Rowan? The daedra?!” She gasped as all of the beings she had helped in the past were gathered around her, looking expectantly at the dark elf. “Oh,” she muttered, seeing the sword placed in her hand. “Clavicus Vile! I am here to leave this blasted weapon for a daedric lord to take! Now, come and get it!” she shouted with great vehemence at the surrounding mountains.
            “Good job, Gwen,” Clavicus said, stepping out of thin air and striding towards her, clapping his hands and laughing. The other daedra had vanished for the moment. “I accept the sword, the price has been paid, and Nerala will be freed from her dormant state in my realm. It’s too bad Ameral will not be joining us to see—” he stopped as the sword flew towards him, almost driving itself into his chest, but a quick sidestep prevented any damage. “Ah, I had almost forgotten how attracted the artifact is to its master. I am pleased to finally—” his words were cut off again as Azura made herself visible, holding the sword firmly in her hand.
            “The pact has been fulfilled, and Nerala has shifted to the world beyond this one. You missed a most joyous reunion, Gwen,” the daedric prince smiled gracefully.
            “But, but—what trickery is this?!” Clavicus shot an accusing finger at the dunmer, then glared at Azura.
            “The price was to climb the mountains to the portal, leave the blade for you to take. There was nothing in the deal that said I had to hand it directly to you,” Gwen said between gritted teeth.
            “So it was,” Vile glared at her, then turned on the other daedric lords now present.
            “You overstepped your bounds,” Peryite bellowed, a very dangerous looking dragon at the moment. “You have upset the Order of things with this weapon. It should never have been made. There were other ways for the Imperial mortal to earn his lady dunmer.”
            “He could have come to me, learned to hunt true, and brought me a fine item in exchange for my aid,” Hircine growled.
            “But he did none of that. Ameral went to Clavicus Vile for aid, knowing that he had to honor all pacts made with him, and grant any wish as long as the price could be paid. Now,” Azura said, lifting the sword for all to see, “we will never let this fall into the hands of mortals again.” Clavicus’ scream of outrage and the loud bang that preceded it were the only things to be heard below the ridge for a few moments, until Azura spoke. “The blade has been broken, its power ended. You know why we cannot let you have this, Vile. Each of us values his or her privacy,” she smiled grimly, both of them knowing that he could have awakened greater evil in the sword, perhaps harming the daedra and starting a costly battle. She turned to the dunmer and her companions. “Your quest is finished. I will use my power to transport you directly to the Imperial City, in Cyrodiil. You need not worry about Vile any more, nor the bad dreams that plagued your sleep. No more daedra will come for you. We ask that you move Ameral’s grave to the Imperial City. He belonged to the Mage’s Guild, and as Arch Mage, you might wish to honor his services. He did much good for the guild before his ambition and madness, unlocking many of the secrets of mysticism that make some of your own spells possible today.” The body, wrapped in a large layer of shrouds, appeared before them, causing Gwen to gasp and tear up for a moment. “Once you reach the Capital, I’m sure you will have no trouble burying the body there. Farewell, until we meet again, Gwen.” The entire party of daedric lords disappeared, each giving off their own exclamation of good bye in the form of a growl, scream, wail, howl, or bellow, in Peryite’s case.
            Gwen blinked twice, and then they were standing at the tall doorway leading through the gates of the Imperial City. She turned to Rowan, who had donned his chameleon cloak hastily in case anyone came out from the nearby stables. Shadowmere looked unaffected as always, but that was to be expected, for she had seen more of the world than Rowan and Gwen. She did come over to show her affection to the dark elf, whinnying as if she tried to say, “We’re glad you’re alive.” She made sure not to jostle Ameral’s body, which was laying in its shrouds on her back. She had no problem with dead bodies. The Dark Brotherhood had made her accustomed to them.
            “Let us put him in his final resting place,” Gwen said, trying to feel unphased by the day’s epic events.
            “I agree,” rumbled Rowan, following her to the graveyard, where, to their relief, a dig site was ready, with a tombstone marking the space. There were fewer guards and craftsmen walking the grounds than usual, so the minotaur was in no danger of being discovered. Rowan lowered the body in, while Gwen watched, and recited the words appropriate of a guild master to one who honored their craft so greatly.
            “We know he is in a better place now,” Gwen said, tears forming. “Ameral, I hope you and your wife, Nerala, have a long happy after life. Rest in peace.” She didn’t know why she felt so sad, when this should be a happy occasion, but she always cried at funerals. Rowan held her while the last of her tears were shed, and as they turned to walk away, the tombstone next to Ameral’s caught their eyes.
            “Nerala Morethi-Kulin, devoted, loving wife of Ameral Kulin. May they live happily ever after in the world beyond this one,” Gwen read, tears of happiness springing to her eyes at the thoughtfulness of Azura. “This is wonderful,” she whispered. Rowan heard her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder, then pointed to two figures, a dark elf woman in the arms of a man, and knew who they were.
            The man looked over at them, taking his eyes off of his lady for only a moment. “Thank you,” he said, motioning to the new burial site.
            “Thank you, so much,” the dunmer woman said, still smiling at the man who held her.
            Then they were gone, and Gwen felt a little more at peace. Her tears dried, and she walked Rowan to the edge of the Imperial City to say farewell.
            “Stay safe, and if I need any help again,” Gwen started to say.
            “You’ll know who to call on. You keep out of trouble too. You gave us a scare back there,” he said, the worried expression returning to his eyes. “Shadowmere and I thought you were a goner.”
            “But I wasn’t. Azura and the potion took care of that. See?” she lifted her shirt slightly, showing not even a trace of a scar. She had barely heard the daedric prince tell the minotaur that the potion was indeed working, but she felt it should have healed her faster. They had to finish their good byes quickly, since anyone seeing the Champion talking to thin air might start questioning her. “I will see you again. Thank you Rowan. You are the bravest, most intelligent, caring minotaur I have ever had the good fortune of knowing.” She hugged him tight, and he kissed her cheek, surprising both of them.
            “Farewell for now, Gwen,” he said, then was off, making light steps down the path to the bridge leading out of the city.

Thank you to everyone who's been keeping up with the story so far. More chapters to come soon as Gwen continues her adventures across the province!
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After Oblivion: Adventures of a Dark Elf