Anvil was quiet at night, but never this quiet. The silence became a sound in itself, as if the wind or the usual hubbub of life had vanished into the void. Despite the emptines, there was a chill, one that existed, but could not be found or touched, and that permeted the Earth that Ronin was laying on.
He was marked with dozens of small wounds, and the burns he had sustained itched with the cold, as if wishing to greet the fire again. Ronin did not share that enthusiasm, but he willed them to work, to get him on his feet. The rise was slow, every movement sending a lance of heat through his joints, and the cold weighed down on him like, like a...
"Anvil"
The voice did not come from him, or any other discernable location. It was spoken from above, perhaps from some greater force. With a grunt, Ronin pushed himself up, observing his surroundings. It was not the Anvil he remembered from his youth. Moss and decay covered the walls and stones. Every building was dilapidated and aged, like anicient husks of a former being, destroyed a long time ago. Skeletons, laying scattered across the roads and in buildings, were a burned black, alongside fallen weapons and armour. The moon overhead gave them a shallow, dull texture, turning the darker black a muddy grey as it emerged from the clouds ahead. In response, a great black storm loomed overhead, appearing from nowhere, and it headed for Anvil, blocking out the moon. Thick darkness blanketed the area again, and Ronin felt the chill return. Whatever was happening, he wanted to be rid of it. It made his skin crawl.
Ronin turned as an orange light illuminated the stones behind him, and a figure emerged from the blackness to greet him. She was a Nord, with long, brown hair, and the light seemed to eminate from her, rather than the torch she carried. Ronin looked into her eyes as the recognition reached him.
"Mother?" he stammered, taking a step forward. He nearly fell as a surge of pain shot through him. Rilja was standing beside him now, unsmiling. She was pale, and her eyes were devoid of life. She looked at him, placing her torch on a brazier nearby. It lit with ease, the crackling flames finally warming him. Rilja half turned, orange flames dancing over one side of her face. Finally, she smiled.
"No" she whispered, though her voice carried over the whole town. Faintly, Ronin could fell a wind pick up, "This is simply the form i choose to greet you with".
She fully turned, her features warping in seconds to take on a new visage, this time of a Dark elf. Isroden, despite still wearing his burned and tattered robe, retained a sense of regality, even in this dead state. The wind was reinforced with a few spots of rain, and Isroden looked up, still smiling.
"Ronin Ultis" He said, the wind making his voice almost unhearable, "Are you worthy?"
Ronin stared for a moment, unable to answer the question. Isroden took a step back, his features warping again into a taller form; The Justiciar who attacked his home, Meranis.
"Are you worthy?" He repeated, his robe billowing in the wind. Thunder boomed in the distance.
"I..." Ronin tried, "I don't...". Ronin tried to move, but he was frozen in place. The thunder flashed again, and Meransi became Eris, dressed in a simple black robe. She moved towards Ronin, stopping just to his left. He could smell blood as she approached. Blood and death. She looked at him, her eyes filled with curiosity.
"You do not know". She sighed, then strode past him. Ronin felt the barrier around him recede, and he collapsed to his knees. He heard Eris turn, and gasped as he saw his wounds heal and a new strength fill him.
"If you do not know ", she said, her voice booming out around Anvil, " Then we must find out".
Ronin sprung to his feet and wheeled around, but Eris had vanished. Instead, the skeletons began to twitch, pulling together and reassembling before his eyes. A yellow glow filled the sockets of their eyes, and Ronin took a step back. Remembering Eris' challenge, he stepped forward again. As if approving of his actions, a blade appeared in his hand. It's hilt was of gold metal, a red jewell set into it's pommel. The blade glowed white with energy, and an inscription was inlaid on it's hilt, though it was in some language he did not understand what it said, the lettering formed in some other, ancient language.
