It is a dreary and quiet day in the city of Solitude, the sky gray with gloomy clouds that threaten to spill their contents onto the lands below.

You, the Dragonborn, stand on the cool cobblestone steps in front of the Hall of the Dead, lost in thought. You'd heard of rumors of a strange new presence in the city's crypt, a conjurer of some sort that had curiously been allowed residence in the Hall by the Jarl herself, much to the unease of the city's inhabitants. Intrigued, you decided to pay the conjurer a visit and investigate.

Upon entering and inquiring with the priest inside the small temple, he directs you down to the crypts. As the thick iron doors close behind you, you see a tall purple Argonian woman hunched over a makeshift desk on the far side of the musky, cold room full of the deceased. She twists over her shoulder towards the new arrival.

"Oh, hello dear. Who might you be?"