Tamrail

Michael steps through a Dimension Gate with a bloodstained letter grasped in his right hand a strange-looking fur band. It'd been a couple weeks since the whole Tyranny of the Sun situation, so he'd made himself busy in the meantime, mostly searching for artifacts of Clavicus Vile.

Of course, he also made time to visit his sister after completing some pieces of jewellery for her. Rings, necklace, earrings, anklets, bracelets, you name it, all heavily enchanting to make sure there was no possible way for her to die... Since magic didn't exist in his old mundane world, it was fairly easy to protect her against most means.

Other than that, he'd just come back from Cyrodil, and before that Elsweyr. One of Vile's artifacts had actually been the fur band he now carries, which was held by the Mane of Elsweyr. They weren't too keen on giving it up, primarily due to the fact that Vile had gifted it to them as a warning more than a gift.

What it did was save the life of its wielder up to nine times, which was actually stupidly powerful... Any fatal damage would be instantly healed... Any. This meant that cutting off the Mane's head would do nothing, nor would stabbing their heart, disintegrating them, exploding them, etc.

This did come with a cost however, it would steal a portion of the wearer's soul with every death, killing them after their ninth. It was called the Cat of Nine Lives, and was one of the more powerful artifacts that Vile had created.

Still, he'd acquired it regardless. The King of Khajiit was strong and all, but he wasn't anywhere near as strong as Harkon, or even a dragon for that matter. The only annoying part about it was the fact that he'd basically declared war on all of Elsweyr... Though, this wasn't really a problem with how the rest of Tamriel was handling things.

Ulfric's acquisition of Skyrim had drastically changed the political landscape. Hammerfell hadn't made any moves yet, but it was plain to see that they were edging towards allying with Skyrim against the Thalmor, and indirectly the Empire.

High Rock, the Breton's homeland, hadn't done anything either, but with how their Province was positioned, they were likely to join hands in the alliance too... Not to mention their dislike for their arrogant High Elf cousins.

Morrowind and Black Marsh were quiet if you ignore the requests of a few Dunmer families 'subtly' requesting aid from Ulfric to take back their land. Brynjolf had joked about how stupidly obvious their schemes were, and that these families would be eaten by the Argonians before Ulfric even saw the letters.

It was fairly obvious to most however that the Dunmer and Argonians were waiting to see how things would progress, then decide their opinion after the fact.

The Empire itself was in a bit of an uproar due to Skyrim actually managing to claim its independence. Not to mention General Tullius who was imprisoned in the Blue Palace. A man like him didn't get to where he was without a shit load of networking, not to mention how important he was to the Emperor.

Most at this point would just declare war on the Thalmor and try to regain their lost allies, but such thoughts were impossible currently due to the Thalmor having a tight grasp on almost everything military and not.

How did Michael know about this? Well, he'd just paid a visit to Cyrodil to pick up a letter from Keo Umpiel's bard friend... He had refused when asked to hand it over of course, but not many people can say no to Michael and walk it off.

He tosses the Cat of Nine Lives in his inventory and opens the letter after wiping some moisture from his brow.

"Huh... The cult's next meeting is next week in the outskirts of Leyawiin, a hidden location in the Blackwoods... Apparently important enough to demand everyone's attendance too..." he mutters aloud. "Guess I'm crashing a party then..."

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Surtr trudges up a steep incline leading to Sky Haven Temple and when he finally pulls himself up he's greeted with a view overlooking a small valley... That also happened to be inhabited by the cockroach equivalent of humans, Forsworn.

They'd set up small structures and traps all over the place, decorating it with skulls, pelts, and other ritualistic or cultural things. More importantly though, they'd set up their entire camp around the cave entrance that supposedly leads to the temple...

He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a purple potion that'd been labelled with 'Invisibility'. He wasn't an alchemist so he'd had to have them sorted this way... Otherwise, he might just down a horrific poison instead of the antidote.

He'd rather not slaughter his way through here, he had a mission to do and wasting his time on this would be incredibly annoying... Unfortunately, it looks like fate has a way of fucking with him, as he spots Esbern and Delphine being carried through the camp upside down with their hands and legs tied.

Maybe he should wait for them to be sacrificed, then continue with his quest?... That would still waste his though, not to mention the fact that the old man had been nothing but helpful since he'd met him.

He sighs and draws Wuuthrad from his back, "I don't know if that bitch can owe me any more than she already does, least I can hold this over her head... If she doesn't lose it..." he mutters before rapidly sliding down the stone incline, catching the attention of all the nearby Forsworn.

"Killing you pathetic whelps can only make Skyrim stronger! This isn't even going to be a fig-"

*ROOOOOAAAAAAARRR!*

"DRAGON!" a Forsworn manages to yell just as he's bathed with fire.

"Ugh... Again?" Surtr groans.