I silently make my way past the marketplace even as the first of its shopkeepers enter the tiny square and manage to make it to their stalls. I watch an Argonian, a Dunmer, and a Nord all enter the place, stride past me, and reach their stalls leaving only two of the things unmanned.

When I escape the tiny marketplace, I cross a small bridge and have a chance to glance at the shadier part of town. Beneath the bridge is a series of platforms built right over the water of Lake Honrich. These platforms are built adjacent to stone walls on which the rest of the city is built, and these walls are where numerous doors are built, leading into the seemingly artificial islands on which Riften is built.

I glance at them for a second and allow my perfect memory to memorize what I see for future reference. There is a lot that can be done in the depths of Riften for someone with the powers and magic that I possess… I continue to walk towards the castle, not far from where I am, even as guards begin to spill out of the keep.

The guards are dressed in light leather armor and have cage-like metal helmets. They ignore me as I make my way past them and onto the tiny keep where a handful of them are out training, taking turns using straw-training dummies. They are in a courtyard to the left of the actual castle, and I listen to the noises of the weapons crashing against the training equipment. I walk up the staircase leading to the front door of the place, and I open it with the casual strength of a half-giant.

As the door opens, I peer into a grand central hall, where a pair of tables are situated across from each other, where men and women pile food onto ornate silverware, and a few stairs separate the tables from where a woman in a throne overlooks the room. The room is poorly lit, but even as I push the door all the way open I cast a quick spell that allows my eyes to adjust perfectly to the weird lighting.

“Who is that?” The woman seated on the throne whispers to a tall Bosmer woman next to her, even as she distantly glances at me. I have an imposing figure so I can understand the curiosity. As I step into the room I mentally review my full list of perks, even as I see some of them wash over the people in my presence.

I watch the woman on the throne, who I recognize as Jarl Laila Law-Giver, relax as some of my [Voice] perks take hold. The powerful perks smooth over interactions with leaders and royalty, and because of it I am able to listen as the Bosmer, or wood-elf, woman whispers to her lord that she has no idea who I am but that that might prove to be a boon in and of itself. The wood-elf might be the jarl’s steward? I smile as I approach the throne, even as the jarl’s security detail eye me curiously.

A powerfully built Nord warrior who stands a little more than a full head shorter than me watches me like a hawk. He is clad in well-made steel armor and a long battleax is strapped to his back. He approaches me as I approach the throne and motions for me to halt.

“Stranger, I must ask that you approach Jarl Law-Giver with caution and respect.” He says to me, to which I respond with a nod. He studies me, attempting to ascertain if I am somehow deserving of the right to approach the Stormcloak ally he faithfully serves. After a few moments he relaxes and takes a step back, allowing me to climb the staircase without interruption.

I walk up the stairs and stop when I am standing, or rather towering, over the seated jarl and the woman who might be her steward. Both women study me, intrigued by my presence and by the energy I radiate. I am a tower of a man, and though I don’t carry any weapons I don’t really need to if all I want is to be intimidating.

I study the women myself. As I do perks in my possession, from ones that fill me with historical knowledge, to ones that relate to my powers such as [R’Hllorist], activate at the same time. I feel a fire well up within me and begin to extend out from my stomach, all the way to the ends of my extremities. This fire is, itself, a manifestation of the magic of R’Hllor, which I know to be a distant god from the world known as “Planetos”.

The fire filling me almost causes my skin to begin to glow, but I take control of it with the same difficulty it would take someone else to do something like lift a quill and I immediately subdue some of it. Nevertheless, the fire is still able to do minor things like warm me up and dwell in my throat, able to be unleashed upon anyone I want to immolate with ease.

That form of magic is far from the only one that is active within me. I can sense the shadows in this place calling to me, wishing to be used and to be molded in ways that advance my, still ill-defined, objectives. I can also see the spirits that inhabit everything from the fires that fill the torches which provide the faint illumination that lights up the keep, to the doors that mark each room in the keep.

I approach the throne and kneel elegantly before the plain-looking jarl of Riften. The elderly woman smiles at me and waits for me to speak.

“Greetings Jarl Law-Giver. My name is Hendall, and I am a traveler looking for work.” I explain, quietly. She listens to me and proceeds to silently consider my request, only for the tall elf next to her to whisper into my boss’s ear, doing so confidently and with the sort of casualness that indicates that she and her boss have discussed whatever she is mentioning to her before.

“My lady, we ought to test his competence before attempting to use him as a weapon against the drug trade. Plus, even if he fails against the traders if we test him elsewhere and he succeeds against lesser foes than we are better off for it.” The wood-elf whispers, almost conspiratorially. The jarl listens to her wise advice and nods thoughtfully as she suggests using me against something smaller than whatever drug problems the city is reeling from.

“Hmm… There are many strange goings-on in The Rift, traveler. Earlier today a scout from a nearby Stormcloak camp arrived and told me that one of the more distant watchtowers in the hold was occupied by bandits. Do you believe you have a strong sword arm?” She asks me, wisely. I consider her question for a moment.

She is clearly considering asking me to go on a dangerous journey. I don’t know if I want to be an adventurer, but all of the powers at my disposal would be wasted if I didn’t use them and making a living as an adventurer is a hell of a way to allow myself to explore my powers, as well as find victims whose identities I can consume to attain the powers of their species… I eventually smile and nod at the woman, who brightens when she sees me nod.

“In that case… I would reward you for your efforts. Handsomely. If you go to the watchtower and free it from its occupiers, you will receive the gratitude of the city as well as a sizeable award for your valiant efforts.” She informs me, causing me to smirk at her.

“I shall see to it that your watchtower be liberated, my lady.” I reply, smiling all the while. Her expression softens as she listens to my answer, but there is a faint glimmer of mischief visible in her eyes and I can tell she hopes that I return to her with good news soon.

The same warrior who spoke to me before I approached the jarl now approaches me and asks me to pull out a map of Skyrim if I have one. I do, as part of one of my inventory items, and I hand it over to him, which causes the man to study it for a moment. He then marks it and tells me that where the place he just marked is where I am heading and returns the map to me with a curious smile. As soon as he does that, I am freed to make my way to the watchtower.

I turn around and I opt to embark on my quest immediately. I leave the keep, and as I do I mark one of the walls which defines the boundaries of the tower with one of my “Marks” for the sake of facilitating travel to and from that spot in the future.

In almost no time at all I find myself outside of Riften altogether, and in a dense area of woods that surround Lake Honrich. I look up at the sky and I see birds flying in the air above both the city and the lake on which the curious settlement is precariously positioned.

Every animal I see is a potential set of eyes and ears, thanks to the powerful [Gift of the Children] form of magic that I possess the ability to use, for me to use and manipulate freely. That mighty form of magic allows me to do things like communicate with, command, and even possess animals, or manipulate stuff like fertility with a single flex of my arcane power, but it is not the speediest way for me to arrive at my destination.

I make my way further and further from the city mundanely for a few minutes. I allow my legs to carry me until I am well out of view of anyone from the city, and when I am far enough away from Riften that the place is only a dot in the distance I turn in the direction of the watchtower I have been asked to liberate and I begin to smile.

I close my eyes and I allow the power of the darkened places that surround me to wash over my body and into me, in exchange for obeying my wishes and guiding me where I want to go. I feel the power of the subterranean caves that liter Skyrim, and the shadows cast by the imposing trees that allow the darkness to flourish in this part of Skyrim flow into me. As they flow into me I allow my mind to fill with images of myself in a different, but not terribly far part of Skyrim: I picture myself tucked safely in the corners of the watchtower, in the shade created by the building.

I feel the shadows begin to eat my magicka and chuckle as I feel the ground beneath my feet shift and change. The shadows that I have called to guide me are greedy things, eager to be fed my magic, and happy to respond to my wishes so long as I can feed them.

In almost no time at all I feel my body stop moving and I open my eyes only to see that I am standing in the shadows of the quaint watchtower I have come here to liberate. I will need a moment to allow my senses to adjust to the new location I am in, so I quickly study my surroundings.

I am now located a few hours from Riften, but thanks to the fierce might of my magic I was able to reach this place with frightening ease and speed. I crouch down and willfully silence my actions, even as I watch my body fade from view thanks to an [Assassin] perk I possess, for the sake of hiding in the shade cast by the building I have come here to infiltrate and liberate.

My senses begin to adjust to this place, and I quickly find myself listening to distant conversations in Orcish. The rough-sounding tongue of the orcs is a neat language and even as I prepare myself for the violence that I have come here to enact on the invaders I give myself a moment to enjoy the language of the Pariah Folk, as the orcs are sometimes more formally known.

I glance at the tower and study the number of auras in the place. I count five, with most of them located inside the tower, one in front of the tower, and one on top of it. They are all red, which I assume to mean that they’ll attack me on sight.

I begin to sneak around the side of the watchtower, clinging close to the walls of the place even as my skill with theft and thievery afford me a certain sort of safety. I mentally cycle through a list of spells that I know and am armed with, before settling on two that I can use to both win this battle and ensure that I can secure the abilities of the orcs.

The stealthy mage sneakily makes his way to the entrance of the watchtower, unspotted by any of the bandits inside of the ramshackle building or outside of it. In no time at all the stealthy traveler, despite his impressive and imposing height, finds himself staring at the lone orc standing watch outside of the wooden entrance to the watchtower.

The solitary orc is dressed in handmade steel armor, and is armed with a simple steel sword and shield. He sits near a warm campfire and allows the heat of the fire to soak into his bones. He has been on guard duty for a few hours now and is now beginning to relax and stop paying quite as much attention as he ought to be, which is a mistake.

The invisible wizard who is watching him silently readies the magic that he intends to use against the orc. He begins his assault by charging both of the spells he is “equipped” with, and his assault begins with him revealing himself by launching a dreadfully fast purple beam of energy, a “Soul trap” spell that links the orc’s soul to one of the black gems the wizard owns.

The orc feels the magic, and he begins to get up even as the nord unleashes the other spell he has equipped, and a shimmering purple portal appears in the middle of the camp the orc is maintaining. The orc has no idea of the true nature of his enemy, and is thus unprepared for the chaos of the moment. The nord wizard immediately begins to change up the magic dwelling in both of his hands and he begins to smile hatefully as he senses himself closing in on victory.

A large, scaled paw itself almost completely the size of the orc is the first thing to exit the portal.  The enormous limb is a deadly weapon belonging to a powerful, if dim-witted type of daedra known as a Daedroth. The orc jumps backward and readies his weapon and shield as the daedra pulls itself out of the portal, and turns its crocodile-like head in the direction of its opponent, a savage smile on its reptilian face.

The beast opens its mouth, and begins to spew devastatingly hot flames in the direction of the orc, even as the warrior begins to open his mouth in fear. The wizard, who is the orc’s real enemy, hits the ground next to the orc with a “Silence” spell, and the orc is astounded when no words escape his lips.

The nord who is responsible for the appearance of the daedroth chuckles as he wills his ally forward, using the power of the [Conjuration] school of magic to control the actions of his summoned ally directly. The daedra does not bother trying to resist the powerful mental influence of the wizard and charges forward to batter the warrior even as fire continues to spill out of its mouth.

The large monster tackles the orc and begins to tear into the warrior’s armor with its animalistic maw. I can feel the humanoid’s lifeforce seeping out of him even as the blade-like teeth of my summoned companion tear the man apart. The enormous daedra is a savage, unfeeling monster and gleefully rips the man asunder, all while within the sphere of silence that is centered on him, preventing others from becoming aware of the violence they are inflicting on one of the bandits.

After a few moments the wizard watches the man’s soul exit his body and flow, terrified, into one of the “Black” soul gems in the wizard’s inventory. The item is part of a replenishing inventory of soul gems that he possesses which replenishes daily and includes many filled soul gems. Normally these things are used to animate arcane dwarven machinery or to enchant items, but he can use them for other, darker purposes…

He retrieves the soul gem and crushes it, causing the energy and even personality of the orc whose soul he trapped to flow into him. He chuckles, darkly, as he feels vestiges of orcish might flow into him and alter him in very minor ways, making him hardier and more resistant to magic, as well as strengthening his ability to have hardy children. He knows that he doesn’t have the full abilities, at least not yet, but he can still sense the mighty vestiges of orcish traits intermingling with his own nordic abilities, which is a very pleasant sensation.

“Hmm… And so, it begins.” He mutters, wickedly, as he feels the memories, thoughts, and ideas of the warrior become a part of him. At the same time a curious bar appears in his field of view entitled “Hero” and a very small amount of it fills up, causing the young man to wonder what is up with that, before he shakes his head and refocuses on the scene in front of him.

He silently deactivates both the conjuring spell and the silencing spell even as he steps out of the shadows and stalks towards the fallen corpse. He kneels next to the broken torso of the orc, and telekinetically retrieves the rest of the body even as he searches the pockets of the bandit.

As soon as he retrieves some of the gold from the creature, he begins to feel the mighty power of [Give and Take] magic flow into him, causing the fierce wizard to chuckle dryly. It is an exhilarating rush to feel the power of that magic seeping into him and allowing him to feel the dreadful power of the magic of business, even and especially when that business is the profitable business of death.

He takes the orc’s belongings, aside from the man’s weapons and armor which amount to little more than gold, some food, and a potion, and he smiles at the corpse. He raises his hands and casts a powerful healing spell that does not resurrect the orc but does stitch the thing’s body back together. It costs a healthy amount of magical energy to do something so extensive, but the nord can do it with ease. His wellspring of magic is so powerful that it begins to regenerate even as the spell is affecting the orc.

In a matter of moments, the corpse of the orc is both in one piece and is unmarred by the savagery of the wizard’s conjured companion. When the corpse is completely rebuilt the wizard smiles at it and wills it to rise. Dark necromantic energies from the [The Ice’s Touch] school of magic seep out of the wizard and into the orcish corpse, causing the corpse to slowly begin to shudder and clamber to its feet.

The orcish corpse is a fierce thing, possessing the scary strength of an orc, coupled with a magically altered physiology. The orc silently gets up and walks over to the door leading in and out of the watchtower. The nord wizard gazes at the creature and notes that the thing possesses eerie blue eyes, as well as an inelegant but efficient gait.

He deftly pulls the door open and walks into the darkened room which lies on the other side of the door. As he steps into the room he studies the room for a moment before heading to the stairwell on the other side of the room.

The wizard silently follows behind him, a malicious grin on his face all the while. The orc is a wight now, a corpse possessed by powerful, frigid magic that will do as Hendall commands, either physically or mentally, and is basically little more than a frozen slave to Hendall’s dark whims. The silent creature stalks up the stairs on the other side of the room and is quickly joined by his dark animator.  

The two reach the middle floor of the tower in a matter of seconds and find themselves staring at a small camp where three orcs are sitting around and playing with cards. None of them immediately notice the silent orc or the silent wizard, which causes the wizard to smile wickedly.

He raises his hand in the direction of the orcs and a crimson orb explodes out of it, hurtling towards the middle of the space between the three orcs. It hits the ground between the trio of warriors and explodes, unleashing arcane smoke in every direction which easily hits all three of the orcish warriors.

All of their eyes fill with illusory rage and they roar at each other while leaping backwards and pulling whatever weapons they had strapped to their backs or stored in sheaths on their legs. One of them has a deadly mace, another has a bow and arrows, and the final one has a weighty, two-handed sword.

The orcish corpse that has come to enact the whims of its master and reanimator unleashes a halting roar and pulls out the sword it never got a chance to use to defend itself back when it was alive. It dashes into the fray, mentally commanded to lock down the one orc in the room with a ranged weapon. The orcs notice the newcomer, and their eyes do not flicker with recognition in the slightest, even as the battle begins in full.

The wizard turns his attention to the orc with the imposing two-handed sword and he readies himself for the violence to come. Frost magic begins to chill the air around the nord as he prepares to involve himself in the battle directly. The wizard is determined to gain even more orcish traits, and more chilly corpses to command, before the day is done!

Unfortunately for the wizard, the roaring orcs are loud enough that the orcish bandit chief has heard them and the wizard notices the aura atop the watchtower beginning to move, her curiosity piqued by the commotion coming from inside the watchtower. The deadly wizard hisses in anger, as this disruption could negatively affect his ability to efficiently gather orcish souls to consume…