An archipelago off of Tamriel

(Note: Sorry for the delay! Some technical issues with the app I use to draft these meant that it took a while to get this together. Please feel free to comment with ideas, suggestions, or just what you would do in his situation. I have a rough plan that goes for a while, but I frequently tinker with it and I'm always open to ideas.)

Dressed in simple leather armor and a loose brown robe, I stepped out into a small copse of deciduous trees in a temperate savanna. Trees were scattered over a wide, uneven plain, interspersed with a few shrubs and flowers, with most of the area covered in short green grass. Many of the trees were dozens of feet tall, their thick trunks rising high out of reach before their lowest branches began, but the cluster of trees I'd appeared in were young, and their lower branches helped hide my arrival. Aside from that, I was wrapped in a cloaking spell to hide my presence. Not that I needed to have bothered.

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The only people nearby stood in a circle on a round stone slab thirty or forty feet across, dressed in dark leathers and hoods, chanting quietly in unison as part of a ritual. At the center of the slab was a circular stone structure, only a few feet tall, but with taller monoliths jutting up on three sides. This was called a dolmen, marking an ancient site of power.

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I concentrated, claiming their minds one by one, adding them to the hive mind and granting them immortality & tirelessness. I allowed them to continue their work - this was not the first such portal their kind had opened for their lord Molag Bal, and it would not be the last. As I did, their unfamiliar language became comprehensible.

The dark elven mage spoke first, to his fellow members of a group known as the Worm Cult. "Bring forth the blood offering."

A pair of the cultists dragged another figure to their feet: A young man, bound at the wrists, stripped bare except for his trousers. I could see several bruises across his torso and face, and the side of his face was stained with blood from the blow that had originally knocked him unconscious. He was groggy still, both from the blow and from a spell they used to keep him docile, I found as I claimed his mind & granted him the usual package of traits - except immortality. I didn't want to risk that interfering with what came next.

The cultists brought him up the steps of the central platform, cutting his bonds before positioning him into the center. "God of Schemes," they said in unison, "we offer this victim to honor you!"

The prisoner stood there in a daze, then a slight purplish-blue glow covered him, and he floated a foot or two into the air. The cultists seized his wrists, and one deftly ran a dagger down the length of his forearm. "Through the spilled blood of an innocent, we call forth your anchor to join our worlds!"

They stepped back, walking backward down the steps, chanting in unison with the others. "Bind this world with your chains! Draw it ever closer to your realm!"

Arcane runes appeared, covering the entire central structure and glowing an ominous purple-blue. Glowing lines grew from this to form a massive, complex arcane circle covering the entire stone slab. The central pillar ignited in a pillar of blue light so bright I could not see the sacrifice, and I felt as his life was snuffed out.

I watched as the skies above darkened and a portal began to appear directly above the ritual, surrounded by what seemed a massive iron ring. The chanting figures - cultists in dark robes - raised their voices to be heard over the sudden growing windstorm. Faintly, I heard shouting in the distance, and somewhere even further away a horn sounded.

One of the cultists began to lift into the air, pulled inexorably up toward the portal. His chanting grew louder at first, then became a scream as the energies of the portal lashed his body. His voice finally cut off as he was pulled through the portal. The others only chanted louder, more fervently.

A single, massive metal chain shot out of the portal and anchored itself at the center of the dolmen, followed by another, and a third. The giant metal links were nearly as tall as I was, and the anchors at the ends were shaped like some kind of abstract, curved blade of dark stone, each curving dozens of feet into the air from the spot the sacrificed man once stood.

At the sound of hoofbeats approaching, I focused on my cloaking spell, sparing a glance here and there to claim a bird or squirrel that hurried away from the unnatural scene. I then turned to see the approaching heroes.

A massive white horse thundered across the grass, garbed in layers of golden metal plate, scale, and chainmail barding. Its rider was a tall elven woman in fine robes with skin nearly the same shade of gold as the horse's barding, her rich auburn hair gathered into an intricate bun, not a single hair out of place despite the intensity of her charge into battle. Her features were delicate and sharp, her eyes large and titled slightly in a way that reminded me of birds of prey.

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She finished a whispered prayer, and I felt a surge of extraplanar energy welling inside her, enhancing her magic. She raised her right hand, pointing toward the cultists with a wood-and-metal staff. Magical energy focused & took form, and a bolt of electricity shot from her staff toward the cultists, exploding into a massive electrical storm that covered all of the cultists and a fair amount of the dolmen itself.

I claimed her mind without delay. Her understanding of the nature and use of this world's magical energy - called magicka - was illuminating. I made her immortal & tireless as usual, as I planned to do with everyone in this world.

Drawing the staff back as she passed me, the elven woman leaped from her horse and landed in a crouch, gathering magicka for another spell as she walked cautiously toward her opponents.

The cultists reeled from the electrical attack, shouting in pain and frustration as their muscles spasmed. Three of them shoved themselves free of the worst of it, staggering toward the elven sorcerer, still twitching as they drew daggers. One raised a hand to begin a spell - and was silenced by an arrow that flew into his open mouth. As he fell, I turned to see (and claim) whoever had fired.

A second arrow flew past me before I spotted her: A lithe, short elven woman in dark leathers, riding a wolf larger than I'd ever seen. The wolf flew across the grassy terrain with an eager grin, and the wood elf fired arrow after arrow as easily from the saddle as if she were on solid ground. As she came closer I saw that her hair was a dark red, partly hidden by a pair of small antlers that swept back to frame the curve of her skull before branching up into several wicked points.

As the cultists fell to the electricity and arrows, the darkened skies above rumbled, and several large spheres of blue flame shot from the portal and burst on the ground at various points around the dolmen - designated places within the magic circle that now glowed on the stones. Daedric creatures rose from these blasts, rising from crouching or hunched positions, charging out toward the mortals that sought to close this portal. There were several frilled reptiles covered in spines and claws, called Clannfear...

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...as well as small horned scaly humanoids called Banekin casting electrical spells from their clawed hands.

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The most powerful of these was the Watcher, a flying tentacled daedra that had multiple eyes covering its spherical body, and used its largest eye to cast magical attacks.

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I watched it all, claiming each and every creature I saw. I felt the wood elf's frustration as she paused for a split second here and there, ensuring her target was claimed before she fired the killing blow. This delay would happen less as time went on, as more and more of those on the field would already be part of the hive mind and claiming their compatriots. The daedric creatures 'deaths' were only temporary, even before I came along. Daedra do not fear death, because when they are killed, their spirits return to Oblivion and reform over the course of a few days. When they did, they'd awaken in their home plane of Coldharbour, and begin claiming other daedra and trapped mortal souls.

A massive feline creature, like a tiger but more muscular and broader across the chest than a bear, charged toward the monsters with deadly intent. It's rider was a humanoid feline called a Khajiit - in fact, both rider and mount were Khajiit, born in different shapes because of the moon phases they were born under. Magic was entwined with everything in this world, and the majority of that magic flowed to Nirn from the skies above, so being born under certain constellations, moon phases, or other celestial alignments had tangible effects on these people. For Khajiit, the phases of the world's two moons decided what breed a Khajiit cub would grow into.

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The Khajiit rider, a powerful warrior in magnificent armor, leaped from the back of his mount with sword drawn, cleaving a daedra in two as he landed. His mount - a childhood friend and longtime battle companion - pounced on another daedra, pinning to the ground and finishing it off in one fluid motion.

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An Argonian (lizard person) man arrived a moment later, dressed in a green tunic and leathers, riding what looked like a cross between an elk and a unicorn with green feather-like fur. A large brown bear trundled along beside him, working up speed.

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The Argonian jumped from his mount and began channeling nature and healing magic into the area, focusing on keeping the other Vestiges healthy. Meanwhile, his mount teleported from one side of the battle to the other, peppering the daedra with bolts of magical energy fired from its horns. The bear charged into the fray, knocking aside smaller daedra and hammering the larger daedra with its massive paws. It joined the Khajiit knight and his Senche-Raht mount in the melee, while the others continued hurling spells and firing arrows from range, and the wood elf's giant wolf dashed in and out of the fight to harass the daedra.

As the last of the daedra finally fell, its body igniting in blue flames and its spirit being drawn into the circle, a voice boomed from the portal above, dripping with bloodlust. "You've done well. Now it ends. Come, Rhagothan! Feast!"