Happy Birthday Iron Stag!

"How'd he kill you?" Tullius asked.

"That guy over there crushed my skull with a hammer." The High Elf Eleriand pointed at the corner of the room, where a hooded man sat.

"Who's he?" Tullius asked.

"Some crazy bastard from the Dawnguard." Eleriand responded, his eyes squinting. "I was just trying to save Serana, but Stag had to cut me short. That little sweet-roll thief."

"Well at least you got to die on screen." Tullius chuckled, "Stag didn't even have the balls to kill me in a chapter. He just announced it a chapter later. And get this, the sentence that announced my death had a typo is it!"

"Really?" Eleriand asked.

"Yah! It said 'The General did survive' and he waited almost a month to fix it! I'll tell you, why'd we have to get a job under such a lazy writer? Can't even proofread his work for crying out loud!"

"Exactly," Eleriand said, "There were tons of typos in my chapters! And worst of all, he made me tromp through the wilderness with that little skeezer!"

"Valor's girl?" Tullius asked, "She's beautiful. Valor sure liked to flaunt her around."

"But annoying as hell." Eleriand responded, "And I had to spend weeks alone with her. She would always act better than me, it was sickening. I'm almost glad he killed me."

Tullius scoffed. "He killed me, and then had that freaking Prince over there take the credit for everything I did!"

Tullius pointed to the middle of the large room. Prince Vaeril danced among several beautiful Imperial ladies to "Ragnar the Red" techno style. The General seemed aggravated, mostly towards Iron Stag's cruelty.

"Where's his father?" Tullius asked.

"Who knows." Eleriand said, "Probably somewhere in here. You know how those Emperors are."


Titus Mede II, former ruler of the Empire, sat staring at the T.V. before him. Sipping a bit of Stagorade, he frowned at what he was seeing before him. To his right sat another, High Chancellor Urandil.

"He's made terrible mistakes." Urandil pointed out.

"Indeed," Titus agreed, "Valor is quite the idiot."

Stag, you bastard. Titus had gone through so much in trying to get Valor on that throne before he died, and the fifteen-year old boy was going to ruin it. There was a reason he didn't want his brother on the throne, there was a god damn reason.

"Why is he fighting Althalos instead of joining sides?" Urandil asked.

"The boy's a fool." Titus solemnly admitted.

"And why doesn't he ever shout? He's got so much power, yet he never uses it."

"Who knows?" Titus asked, "The boy's a wanna-be Septim. I don't know what I saw in him."

"Or what Stag see's in him."

"He gives the boy so many chapters it's almost killing me." Titus began, "I'm still waiting to figure out what's happening at Markarth with that crazy priest."

"You know how Stag leaves plot threads hanging." Urandil joked, "We still don't even know the fate of half of the characters from the first story he dragged us in."

"True." Titus agreed, "Stag is one hell of a bastard. And if he sends one more soul over here, I'm going to go ballistic."

"You know he will, Stag's one merciless bum." Urandil said, "I heard the Priests saying that he plans on killing everyone before it's all over."

"He wouldn't dare, the reviewers would go nuts." Titus pointed out, "Stag isn't as stupid as that. He needs those readers in order to keep his power. Without them, he can no longer torture us."

"What are you thinking?" Urandil asked.

"You assume I'm thinking something?" Titus asked, "No, I'm simply just reminiscing. And wondering about this: If Stag cold kill all of us without starting a ruckus, would he do it?"


"He killed me in the climax." Vaeril said, smiling. The girl in front of him was very beautiful, with curly chestnut hair; she must've been an Imperial of noble birth.

"Oh, really?" she asked.

"Indeed." The Prince replied, "I died in battle, a sword in my hand. They say there is no death more honorable than for your country."

"I bet you were such an impressive warrior."

"A Prince must know how to fight; otherwise he wouldn't be able to defend the Empire." Vaeril said, "Stag loved me so much, he almost hesitated in killing me off. I was his favorite character."

"Then why did he kill you?" she asked.

"I…what?"

"If he loved you so much, why'd he kill you?"

"Well…he…he thought it would strike a powerful blow to the reviewers." Vaeril responded.

"Sounds like he was just using you then."

"No, he…he thought that my death would contribute well to the story, and it did!"

"You're lame." She said, "If he liked you so much, you'd be alive. Just look at the Dragonborn, that guy's a complete idiot and he's still alive because Stag likes him. Now I'm going to hang out with someone who isn't a disposable nobody."

Vaeril stood in shock while the beautiful woman strutted away from him. He took another sip of his wine, wondering what he'd do now while waiting for them to cut the cake. Titus, his father, had resigned to the Story Cam with Urandil to figure out how the Dragonborn was doing. Vaeril was on his own.

I'm hungry. Stag better hurry up. None of them had ever seen great Iron Stag before, only heard his voice as he contacted them. Every once in a while he would require upon the dead ones to appear in a story or two, as the Dragonborn currently was, but most of their time was spent in the Halls of the Glorified Dead.

"We meet again, Prince."

Vaeril turned, behind him was a familiar Dark Elf that Vaeril must've met in one of Stag's stories. It took a moment for him to remember Eleriand, Valor's friend that was killed by the Dawnguard.

"I didn't know you'd be here," Vaeril was surprised.

"I was dead before you were, of course I'd be here." He replied, "Valor and Serana on the other hand…"

"Don't worry." Vaeril replied, "Stag will take care of them."

Eleriand looked Vaeril in the eyes with the sternest of looks.

He bursted out laughing.

Vaeril did as well. It was amusing after all, since they both knew that their creator was a malevolent, blood-thirsty war monger who would punish them even in the afterlife if he could.

"That was a good one, I'll give you that." Vaeril was still smiling.

"Ha, we all know Stag will probably just kill everyone except for the Elves, with his history." Eleriand said, "I almost thought the Draugr were going to win."

"Once I arrived here, I realized that I could've been killed so easily so many times." Vaeril replied, "Stag was just playing with me."

"As he does with all."

Later on, the Dark Elf left, and everybody was there, waiting for the food to be served. Lord Destrian Withertooth stood over the cake, his blade in his hand and ready to cut. Around him, people spoke and socialized, but Vaeril was alone.

I wonder what characters will end up here next, he thought.


Hadrian the sellsword rushed back towards the party room. He had to warn them, he could not allow Stag's party to be ruined, or else the malevolent creator's wrath would bring all to ash.

He sped past empty hallways, the sound of Stag's favorite music booming. It was a repeating track of the screams of those that he had slain. Each of them that had died had their last moments recorded for Iron Stag's pleasure. Should he ever feel blood thirsty, he would listen to them.

It was at that time when he kicked a door down, and saw everybody standing completely still. Whimpers filled his ears right before they all turned towards him. It was then that Hadrian realized he was too late.

Konahrik had come to the party.

"Ah, Sellsword, I see you've finally come." He said, his face hidden behind his golden mask. "Tell me, when do we begin the feast?"

Hadrian took a few paces forward, his hand on the sword handle. "When he arrives."

"And who would he be?" the Priest asked, "Where is your great Creator? For it appears that he is absent despite all your calling and summons. Perhaps he's abandoned you."

"Nonsense, Stag would never abandon us." Hadrian said, "He lives off our torture."

"And yet you sit here celebrating his birth?" Konahrik questioned, "
"Might I ask a question? If Stag was born, then why do we revere him as the almighty creator? Why not instead the woman who bore him from her womb?"

They were silent then. Nobody had expected the arrival of Konahrik. They all knew of his hatred of Iron Stag. The Priest cursed him for writing him into defeat by one who should not have defeated him.

"Stag has always been." Hadrian said, "His birthday is simply the day that he gave or s to offer him a cake to sate his blood-lust for another year. Without it, he would've destroyed all of Nirn by now!"

Konahrik drew his blade. It was forged of pure gold from the fires of blackness, created from the Dark One: Writers Block. "I dare say there is a reason for Stag's lateness: He is a lackluster author!"

They gasped, how dare he challenge the man who had slain thousands?

"He is a lazy man, prone to disgusting displays of genocide, infanticide, mass murder, and unlawful manslaughter! It is within my power that I say on this day we reject this offering to this Demon. He who writes the everlasting will, who turns the wheel of life!"

It was a preposterous thought to them, rebelling against the creator. He was the one who had used his mystical ink to create them. Of course, he had overthrown the previous Gods and reused their template, but still he was their creator.

"Nonsense, Stag will destroy us all, his wrath is destruction!" one woman called out.

"Is it so? Once the Dark One is released upon the world, he will no longer be able to write and his power is taken from him. We can live in a world without death and pain forever. Down with this tyrant I say!"

They were quiet, until Konahrik rushed forward. His blade pointed straight at the large ten layered cake. His moves were, swift, and his stroke fell with a power greater than any warrior Hadrian had seen. But he stopped dead in his swing.

"HOW DARE YOU?"

There was a cracking sound, something that shocked everyone present to the core. What was happening? Hadrian panicked when he saw that the ceiling was literally being ripped off, exposing a light that nearly blinded them. Hadrian saw Konahrik panic. "Writers Block, help!"

Suddenly, a shadow had descended upon them, and the sky began to blink and its color alternate. Winds cold and warm brushed past them, and in the midst of it all Hadrian heard the howls of the creator. Taking the form of a cloud of mist, the Dark One's power attempted to rein the angered deity in, suppressing him.

"NOBODY DEFEATS ME! IT IS I WHO DECREES FATE!"

And with the sound of thunder, the sky flashed, and the shadow had diminished. The bright light of the tyrant God had reappeared, and Hadrian covered his eyes. But when he heard Konahrik screaming, he looked up again. In the air the Priest hovered, shouting out for mercy.

"YOU SHALL RECEIVE NO MERCY FROM ME."

And suddenly, the light faded, and everything went silent. Soon, he heard people's voices around him. Then, he heard shouts of joy. "He takes the cake!" they said, "Our lives are spared, and the world shall continue to remain!"

Hadrian felt a sense of relief. He survived another of Iron Stag's birthdays.

These feeble characters, thinking they can rebel against me.

btw, my b-days tomorrow. No update for Dragonsoul doh, i got things to do.