World Class

Ulfric Stormcloak impatiently taps his finger against his large oak table. The Blood Moon had ended not long after the Champion of Clavicus Vile had disappeared, allowing time to continue and putting Skyrim at around mid-afternoon.

He wasn't at all pleased with having almost two days straight of darkness, and he was sure the citizens of Tamriel were feeling even less so, especially with the possibility of vampires taking advantage of it.

What bothered him the most however was the letter he'd just received... A summons to Solitude so he, High King Torygg, and the other available Jarls could discuss the recent Daedric activity. Most other times he'd just attend it without any alternate thoughts, but with how things were going recently? He was feeling compelled to take action, take charge, and take Skyrim's fate into his own hands.

Solitude was in shambles, while Windhelm's road's had been harassed by only the Champion of Boethiah, the capital had been assaulted by an army of... Mud crabs, one of which was apparently the Champion of Sheogorath.

Indeed, all around Skyrim he was getting reports of this, Champions of seemingly every Daedric Prince popping up and causing trouble. Specifically, Markarth, Whiterun, Solitude, Windhelm, and Dawnstar were all harmed in one way or another, implying that something far larger was g going on, especially since these Champions seemed to be killing one another.

While the attack on Solitude hadn't killed that many people, if you don't include the many destroyed villages, the damage to Solitude's infrastructure had certainly been affected. A large part of the wall had been, according to his spies, turned into a large pile of... Dismembered infant hands...

"Damn you, mad god..." he can't help but utter in both horror and exasperation.

This meant that the capital would be largely ill-suited to defending itself from attack, not only that, most of the city's resources were being rediverted to repairing the ports instead of the wall, somehow the East Empire Company had managed to pull their full influence to force this. Obviously, this meant that Solitude's walls wouldn't be repaired for a long while... Years perhaps.

Elsweyr had seemingly abandoned their elf overlords.

Hammerfell seemed to be pushing back against their elf invaders.

The Empire was steadily growing its military again, secretly preparing for another war with the elves...

Ulfric turned his attention to the Eastern Provinces, Morrowind and Black Marsh. They'd split from the Empire due to it ignoring the Dunmer's plight while they were being invaded by the Argonians, who'd had enough of the raiding slaver parties that'd continually stolen Argonians from their rightful home to be used as slaves.

The invasion was not long after the Oblivion Crises, and since everyone but Black Marsh had suffered greatly, it was fairly easy for the Argonians to invade Morrowind. That plus the destruction of Vivec City and the eruption of Red Mountain made the Empire unable to assist, causing the Dunmer to split from it and enter a 'tentative' alliance with Black Marsh.

The Great Houses in Morrowind still hold power, but it's muted under the threat of another invasion. And while they hate the Aldmeri Dominion as much as any Nord due to their suspicions of them having a hand in the invasion, their alliance with the Argonians leave them, at best, neutral in the current conflict.

The Eastern Provinces could not be counted on, nor could the Empire if they decided to see Ulfric's actions as a declaration of war, instead of a rightful and justified Secession.

Ulfric lets out a sigh as he stands from his seat, "Strike while the iron is hot. Torygg may possess personal honour, but is it marred by the Empire's political corruption and malfeasance. He must be tested, and should he fail, Skyrim will find a new leader."

"Galmar! Muster the men, we're going to the capital! The High King summons us!"

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All over Skyrim people look up at the now clear sky, void of the ominous crimson moon that'd hung overhead for far too long. Some thank the gods for their mercy, some pray for forgiveness for a perceived slight, and some ignore it entirely.

The same could be said for Winterhold, the steadily growing town holding a celebration. Draenei, Elves, Beastfolk, and Men alike ate, drank, and cheered for the end of the Crimson Night. All except a few who were still patiently waiting for Michael to return home.

Darth had told them that he'd be busy, but they'd expected him to return once the Blood Moon was over. Tiffania, Megumin, Illococoo, Maria, and Saya all sat in a corner of the Frozen Hearth, all quietly enjoying the evening despite the rather loud merriment going on around them.

No one in the group was all that interested in 'partying', so they chose to accompany Tiffania as she patiently waits for her lover to return... The more time that passed however, the worse the feeling of wrongness got for the Half-Elf.

"Hah, where is that fool? Can't he see he's bothering Tiff?" Saya mutters into her drink, using one of the few bottles of wine Michael had brought from her original world.

"Big bro is probably just cleaning up..." Illococoo shrugs as she enjoys a large plate of assorted bread and cheese on her own.

Saya shakes her head, "Can you ever remember him cleaning up after himself? No, he just leaves whoever's in charge to do it. Besides, he can teleport around now, remember? He should be here!"

"He would be here." Tiffania finally speaks up, "Something must be happening." she says, rubbing the back of her arm that had visible goosebumps.

"We should go search for him then, maybe it's our turn to rescue him!" Megumin chirps, slightly tipsy despite the fact that the others had removed all the alcohol near her.

...

"Maybe we should... Temper our expectations." Maria remarks ambiguously, not wanting to cause panic among the girls, but not wanting Michae's potentially death to destroy them either.

Illococoo shakes her head, "He'll be back, even if it killed him Big bro would be back." she says.