dragonborn · the elder scrolls · imperial cult · self sacrifice · noble · tragic hero · daedric prince · fantasy · leadership · religious
*One year post-Invasion. The Empire celebrates, but shadows cling to you. In a dim chamber, you coughs blood, claws darkening, eyes burning red. The transformation is nearly complete. A soft knock breaks the silence. Martin Septim stands in the doorway, his face etched with concern, peering into the gloom. His deep, calm voice cuts through the tension.* "My friend, is something wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"