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Anikka Stormcrown had heard tales of the Oblivion Crisis when she lived in Cyrodiil in her youth. She had seen the towering Avatar of Akatosh in the Imperial City, the petrified remains of the man who technically could be considered her older Dragonborn brother, Martin Septim. She heard of the gaping Oht Gates from whence a horde of Mehrunes Dagon's murderous Daedric minions poured forth into the Mundus, now reduced to stony stumps at best, and most likely eroded away as if they never existed. But now she is seeing one with her very own eyes. An active Oht Gate. The mad elf Vonos's plan worked without a hitch, a testament to Mehrunes Dagon's fanatics having no sense of self-preservation. He laid dead by her hand, his blood staining the Great Welkynd Stone that Anikka had pilfered to keep out of the Mythic Dawn's hands, in close enough proximity to energize their Sigil Stone and open the Gate. By her own blunder, she had inadvertently done exactly what these fanatics wanted her to do in order to open the Oht Gate.

But Anikka also remembered the tales of the Champion of Cyrodiil as well, how they stormed the Oht Gates across Cyrodiil, sealing them off permanently. If the doom-driven Hero preceding her could do it, the Last Dragonborn, the Vanquisher of Alduin, could do it too. She straightened the Diadem of the Savant upon her brow, gripped Skywrath, her trusty Lightning-annealed Skyforge Steel sword, in her good hand and hefted fabled Shield of Ysgramor in her off-hand and slowly advanced towards the gaping maw of flame. It reminded her somewhat of the portal in Skuldafn, a gateway into the pocket realm of Sovngarde on the edge of Aetherius. Except this time, she was going into the depths of one of the most inhospitable principalities in Oblivion to clean up her own mess. Dagon would hear the thunderous fury of her mighty Thu'um as his plans to destroy the Mundus are thwarted once again.

Once more unto the breach...