• The next day Solus exited from his room to speak with Owyn about yesterday’s reward that he had yet to collect. That day reporters from the Black Horse Courier were there to question the man about the fiendish act that he committed the day before. All Solus could mutter was it was his fault for being in the arena.

    The next day the paper would say The Unforgiver: The killer of the Arena. Solus was not happy or sad or angry in fact he didn’t care what the paper said about him. All he could care about was who his next opponent would be. And pray be that that soul is strong or else.

    He did the procedure of the arena and was already standing at the iron bars. The announcer’s voice peered over the crowds causing them to roar even loader, “From the blue team we have the heartless man, with no emotion, no regret, and not a care at all; the Unforgiver.” The crowd reared their heads toward the blue gate to see the black cloaked man with his evil blade of blood.

    The gates lowered to give way to the Khajiit and the Imperial. Solus moved towards on of the spiked bars at the side of the stadium. The Khajiit was keen to his plan and decided to use her cat reflexes to climb one of the center pillars. Solus could only do one thing.

    He bolted towards the pillar and cried in his monotone voice, “Alteration Spider Boots.” His boots met with the wall and he started to climb with the agility of a spider. The Khajiit could not believe her eyes. “He must be the spawn of Sithis,” she said to herself right before her body met cold steel of Soulless.

    Solus wiped the blood from his sword and walked quietly out of the arena. He made his way to Owyn to collect his reward from the match.

    “Damn you know that Khajiit is probably with her gods now thinking she was still alive, haha. Well Solus it looks like you’re only at hero rank and you already have a title, so that means that the officials want to you to have a rank match. This match will be against the yellow team champion, A Warrior archer, and a myrmidon spell caster; so be ready and head up there now,” Owyn finished pointing to the red room.

    Solus waited patiently at the gates as his opponents viewed him from across the way. The champion was a Nord, the spell caster a Breton, and the archer was a Bosmer. The gates fell and a silence befell the crowd as the fighters took to the stage. Solus made quick work of the spell caster who is now missing a leg, an arm, and pretty much everything else.

    He also took down the archer with ease, cutting the bow and his face in to. The blood from both fallen foes soaked the floor as the champion raced towards his foe. With a small axe in hand he met Solus blow for blow. The deciding factor was a slight of hand. Solus quickly made it to the top of one of the four pillars and shouted, “Destruction Obliteration.”

    In his hand appeared a small red,-blue, and white orb. Solus shoved the orb into his blade, which then began to shine brightly. Solus charged faster then ever. When the two weapons met, a discharge came from Soulless and froze, then shocked, and finally burnt the Nord into submission. Solus looked down at the charred remains of his foe and walked away as if nothing happened.

    Owyn was stunned to see Solus let alone not scratched. “So you did you’re the champion of the blue team and I must say you did it with flare. So now I give to you title of Blue Team Champion, The Unforgiver, The Soulless warrior. People will pay big to see you fight I can tell.” Owyn finished and started to smile as his new champion walked to his room for a well earned rest.

    He walked to the door with the initials SH on it. He opened it up to reveal a small one bedroom. It was yellow in color with the dim glow of a candle on the bedside table which was made of Skyrim oak, which is a dark brown color. The bed was lowered to the floor with nothing to support it. The sheets were a dull blue with under laying sheets. Over to the side of the door Solus placed his sword and cloak on a pedestal.

    He looked around the room as if it was his first time ever walking into it. On the bed was a letter, with a red gold dragon insignia place on the seam of the letter. He picked it up and admired the gold lacing around the edges of it. He broke the seal and picked out the card.

    On the inside it read in blood red letters:
    If it is power that you seek, head to Chorrol to the big oak tree. If it is spells that you must wield, find the well at the AU field. If you eye must be keen, Find the man named Freen. Or if it is battles that must be fought and won, ask for Umbra at Pell’s Gate during the no sun.

    There was no clue as to who sent it except for the now broken seal there was nothing. He looked toward the wall to the map. He quickly guided his hand down the Red Ring Road to a point of break in the land around it near the old bridge. That was where Pell’s Gate was and that’s where he was headed.

    He grabbed his blade and his cloak and his travel pack from a journey, long forgotten. He suited up and head out. “Hey Owyn, I’m gonna be gone for a bit all my matches will be postponed alright,” he said to the busy Owyn. Owyn just waved his hand good bye, and Solus was off.

    He headed down to the Telos plaza and exited via the front gates. In front of him the bridge that leads to power and strength, behind him a city filled with cheer and happiness. He chose the power.

    He walked around the RRR to a point until darkness started to fall. He set up camp a little ways off the road to steer clear of bandits. He started a fire and looked up at the sky. “It’s still the same since then, nothing has changed,” he hushed to himself.

    He turned to the fire and poured sand to snuff it out. And laid onto the mat for his bed. He closed his eyes and watched the darkness fall around his vision. His inner eye viewed into color and a red tint came into view.

    He looked around and saw fire and ash circle around through winds. It was the Imperial city burning like it did three years ago. He turned and saw his friends and his soldiers dying by the hands of the heavily armored enemy. Beyond that could be seen the red figure of the enemy’s god its self, ‘Mehrunes Dagon’.

    He sat up panting, sweat dripping from his musty hair. His breathing was heavier then normal. He looked as if he saw a ghost. In this case he did the ghost of his past the past he must try not to remember. The past that made him who he was, a killer that cared nothing for but the battle; An Unforgiver.