The Elder Scrolls: Year of the Wolf
"Wolf Queen...hear our call..."
4E 5
It has been five years since the end of the Septim line, and the world burns. Since Martin's sacrifice, the Empire has held a tenuous grasp on Tamriel, civil unrest, Provincial infighting, a distinct lack of decisive action on the part of the Elder Council...some call it a curse, the lack of a Dragonborn Emperor of Tamriel. That the Empire has lost the favor of the Nine. Even as the Red Mountain exploded, the people of Tamriel worried that the once great Empire of Tiber Septim would collapse in an orgy of violence and death like those of Alessia and Reman before it, their fears seemingly confirmed by the withdrawal of Black Marsh and the subsequent invasion of Morrowind. Although the seat of Imperial remained unchallenged by the armies of Argonia, or the threat of recently-independent Kahjiiti Confederacy, there is cloud of fear thicker than the Ash of Red Mountain.
In times like these, there are opportunists. Men who know they can prey on the weak in the shadows of a receding Empire. Imperial efforts to curtail banditry become less and less important as the very real threat of foreign invasion stands on the horizon. Organizations such as the Thieves' Guild, the Dark Brotherhood, even more legitimate efforts such as the Fighters Guild, flourish in this chaos. A lack of Imperial enforcement, as well as those brazen few who see this chaos as not the death of an empire, but the opportunity for advancement use means legitimate and illicit to seize power in the regions forgotten by the eyes of Imperial officials. There are a fair few who fight against this rising tide of darkness, but there is little they can do without serious institutional support, a precious resource in a time of collapsing Imperial influence.
Though, there is one event that bodes ill for all.
Away from prying eyes, there are those who wish to control the Empire, to seize control through the power of necromancy. Perhaps it never occurred to those who fought the Mages' Guild, that shattering the largest bastion of magical knowledge like glass would play right into the hands of these wicked few. In the shadow of the God of Worms, a pact was formed, remnants of the Guild and the Order of the Black Worm swore to re-instate the preeminence of magic within the Empire. Soon, those who drove them out of society would understand how wrong they were. They knew precisely who could rectify their unfortunate position...all they need do is bring her back to this world.
So comes the Year of the Wolf.
You might find it implausible, that the Courier who delivered the letter to you had handed you the ramblings of a mad man. Unfortunately, the letter was addressed to you, even had a small sum of Septims to entice you along with it. The ink glimmered like living shadow, the parchment felt...haggard, like they had a scant few minutes to put thoughts to paper before it was sent off alongside its siblings. Come to Helgen. It said, the stain of blood splatter misting across the letter, with only a symbol as signature: A Blade, inlaid within a Moon.
