Tasted like grapes. Very nice touch!

Kalian's fight was over so fast. I suspect his next ones may not be.

This tournament is quite a clever concept- all your Daedric Prince challenges have all been.

Sorry for not commenting sooner, things have been crazy around here lately.

Chapter Fifteen: The Shrine of Molag Bal


I love this line!

I agree with Acadian, this was a powerfully poignant chapter. I am genuinely sorry to see Adam go. The dream that Kalian has of Evangeline plunging the knife into his stomach is genuinely chilling. I do have one question, if you will indulge me:

Where was Quick-Strike? When they are setting off Kalian makes a point in saying that Quick-Strike is ‘nowhere to be seen’, but when they reach the hut he says that ‘sleep came easily, even for Quick-Strike’. I, for one, was not even aware that he had rejoined the group.

And saying ‘quickly made haste’ when they are about to leave is a redundancy (like ‘swiftly go fast).

Chapter 16: The Shrine of Sanguine

Ha ha ha ha! Sanguine’s test as a drinking game? Perfect!! And more detail about why Kalian is who he is. His loyalty to Quick-Strike is downright touching, and your decision to characterize J’Skooma as a Khajiit who refers to himself in the third person is spot on. No real issues to speak of this chapter, very good overall!

*Edit: After reading urenia’s comments I have to say that I like the mentioning of Barbas in the story, even if it was an accident. I can just see Clavicus and Sanguine betting on whose champion can down more mead! And that would be something that Sanguine's champion would naturally brag about. Not to mention the fact that I'm sure Barbas is prone to throw back a drink or two from time to time, considering who his master is!

Chapter 17: The Shrine of Clavicus Vile

More good stuff revealed through Kalian’s eavesdropping. Evangeline’s reaction to going to the Shrine of Meridia is terrific. You’ve really been doing your homework researching this one.

Remko already pointed out the nits that I had.

Okay, that’s all I got for now. I’ll come back and fully catch up with the story over the weekend. Nice work, Zalphon.

Destri, Quick-Strike fades in and out when they travel. Sometimes he walks with them, other times he is no where to be seen.

And Acadian, in Morrowind if you get Ash-Woe Blight, both your intelligence and willpower go down 40 points. It turns most people into drooling idiots barely capable of breathing.

Chapter Twenty-Five: The Tournament of the Nine Blights II

Day two came. Four of us survived from yesterday, meaning two fights. And tomorrow would be the last fight. Peryite roared, "The survivors are Sanies Lupines, Porphylic Hemophelia, Scalon Blight, and Cannibal's Prion. The first fight is Sanies Lupines versus Scalon Blight."

The werewolf had gained more control over his form. He was a nord, judging from his dress he was from one of the tribes of Solstheim. Which tribe, I couldn't say. He turned into his bestial form as the door closed behind him. Coming in was a khajiit who wore a suit of leather armor. "Begin," screamed the Green Daedric Prince.

The werewolf charged, but the khajiit leaped over him. With haste the cat-like man pulled out a shortsword. The werewolf yet again charged and the khajiit stuck out his blade. It landed in the lycanthrope's arm. It yelped in anguish and then bit the khajiit in the throat.

The Beasty-Humanoid reverted back to his nordic form. The doors opened and he returned to his meadhall. At least the khajiit had a better chance of winning than before. "The final match of the day is Porphylic Hemophelia versus Cannibal's Prion," Peryite announced.

I left the Ancestral Tomb and walked into the cage. The Champion of Cannibal's Prion was an orc. He held a large battle-axe and a suit of steel. "Begin," the Dragon roared. Obviously the hulking, green orc charged at me. I drew my blade and slashed at him, but he parried.

His axe was about to come down on me, but with agility I pulled up my tower-shield to protect me and I lunged into his chest, knocking him down. I thrust the blade into his throat and whispered, "I'm sorry..." The cleaners came out and removed the corpse.

"Tomorrow is the final match of the Tournament. If the Champion of Porphylic Hemophelia wins, he will gain a plethora of rewards both of daedric nature and arcane nature. If the Champion of Sanies Lupines wins, he'll earn one-hundred thousand drakes and a suit of shining, nordic steel armor," The Prince of Pestilence and Order said. I watched the dragon fly off, where to I don't know.

I headed back to the tomb and Eldafire stood there, "You've brought much honor to Clan Aundae. I am most pleased."

I nodded and headed to bed. Sleep came quickly, but I awoke. "Elder Iraak, take five reavers, and two lords with you. When he comes back, kill him and take the rewards."

"Yes, Ancient Eldafire. I am a minor god, do you remember?" He asked.

"Indeed, now then... Rest and after the fight be prepared."

They're going to betray me. Fine, I'll be ready for even more blood-shed after. Sleep finally consumed my mind and let me drift off into the land of dreams. However, I dreamt, I was walking through the Ruins of Vivec to meet the Ancient of Clan Tray'var. The vampires clap as I pass, as if I've done something of great honor. When I finally go up the steps and see the Ancient of Clan Tray'var, he bites into me...

Elder Iraak is a reference to Morrowind. He was a vampire that had worshippers who thought he was a god (so did he) and he had to be killed. So in this, it's as if he escaped with illusion magic.

Ahah, approaching the conclusin of the tourney. Vampire vs Werewolf it seems. And perhaps some treachery to follow. Nicely run tournament so far.

Chapter Twenty-Six: The Tournament of the Nine Blights III

When the next day came, I was ready to kill the werewolf and butcher my ‘clan’. They wanted to kill me, obviously ignorant of my power as the Champion of Nirn. I walked out of the ancestral tomb and saw not the familiar steel-cage, but an arena. Like the one in the Imperial City.

“The last fight will begin in the Grand Arena,” Peryite announced. “Enter now; the fight is to the death.” Obediently, I headed into the dirt-pit. Across from me was the werewolf.

“Begin.”

Like a blood-hound, he rushed at me. I slashed at his legs, but he pounced on me knocking me to the ground. My adrenaline kicked in and I punched the feral beast in the nose. It jumped off and ran towards the door.

“Farewell,” I said. I charged over to it and as I lifted my sword above my head, it clawed at my legs. The force of the blow knocked me down, but it didn’t bypass my armor. As the werewolf was about to bite into my neck, I muttered a spell and the beast had burn-marks on its snout. I had fried its brain.

“Congratulations,” The Green Daedric Lord said. “Your reward is the Spell-Breaker, the Ring of Phynaster, and I will send one-thousand atronach to assist you.”

I nodded and instantaneously, I appeared at the Shrine of Peryite. On the shrine was the ring of Phynaster and the Spell-Breaker. I slid on the ring and donned the Spell-Breaker. “What was the challenge?” Evangeline asked eagerly. “Please tell me.”

“I killed people too weak or too stupid from the diseases to protect themselves,” I growled. “I am no hero or champion for this, merely a tourney winner.”

“Your honor grows,” Quick-Strike smiled. “I am growing more and more proud to call you friend for your humbleness and clear mind.”

“The nearest shrine is the Shrine of Boethia,” J’skooma purred. “We best make haste.” I merely nodded as we started walking. I was no champion in the Tournament of the Nine Blights, I didn’t earn these.

I was just lucky enough to get the most powerful blight, Vampirism…

What happened to the 'clan'?

It seems Peryite sent him back before the vampires had time to carry out their plans. At least he was ready; that worked fine for me. I was pleased to see that Peryite removed Kalian's vampirism as he was returned from the realm.

This is some nice character development of Kalian here, after he returns from the tourney.

He never went back in. Peryite knew of their treachery and to keep order, he teleported Kalian to Cyrodiil.

Chapter Twenty-Six: The Shrine of Boethia

When the stars were high in the sky, we were about three miles away. When I closed my eyes and sleep dominated my mind. I wasn’t sure if this was a dream or a vision. He was a Dunmer in a black shirt, a pair of blue pants, and leather boots. He sat in a chair in a wooden-room. He rested his legs on a wooden table and said, “Both of us were born on an uncertain day, to uncertain parents.”

“Indeed,” I responded. I was also sitting down in a wooden chair. His voice was raspy; he had long-white hair, and light-gray skin.

“The difference being Kalian,” he stated. “I am Nerevar Indoril reborn. You are Kalian Broodikus. My destiny was written in prophecy in the tides of fate. You aren’t a reborn warlord, you are Kalian Broodikus.”

“Yes,” I sighed. “Nerevarine, why do you speak to me?”

“Because we are different souls in different bodies,” the Incarnate explained. “But we have the same fighting spirit that many lack. We are champions, by fate in our cases. I knew Zalphon, we were good friends before I was sent to prison and freed in Vvardenfell.”

“We were both champions, the difference being, we used our power for different reasons,” Moon-and-Star blurted out. “Unlike him, I was destined to become a champion, he was not. You are not born a champion, you become one. Zalphon will always be a champion, just as you and I will. You must resist the corruption that has tainted him and stop Dagon and Zalphon, as I stopped my ancient friend, Lord Voryn Dagoth, better known as Dagoth Ur.”

“I grew up hearing stories about you and aspired to be like you,” I said. “I always wanted to fight to protect the people. Over the last few months, I’ve learned how difficult and arduous it can be.”

“It’s a difficult task,” Indoril replied. “Sometimes it’s thankless, other times it has great rewards. I have seen many heroes never be thanked when they killed the bandits terrorizing a small village, but I became a living-god to the Dunmer people when I killed Dagoth Ur. You shouldn’t do it for the thanks; you should do it to help the people.”

“I do it to help and protect the people,” I nodded. “If a hero does it for the rewards, then he’s not a hero, but a mercenary.”

“Indeed and farewell,” Nerevar said. Then I awoke. One thought was in my mind. Should I tell Quick-Strike of my dream or keep it a secret. Evangeline smiled at me and hugged me. I gently kissed her and got up. I donned my armor and ate with the rest of my companions.

Once we finished eating, it took us an hour to reach the Shrine of Boethia. “My, the Champion of Nirn has come to make a pilgrimage,” the Echoing Voice of Boethia invaded. The Shrine of Boethia depicted a cloaked warrior with a large axe in his hands.

“Indeed,” I said. “What must I do to earn your favor, Boethia.”

“In Cheydinhal, there is an Imperial Count in rule of the city. Kill him without being discovered and you’ll receive my greatest sword, Goldbrand,” The Daedric Prince commanded. “And I’ll send my Morag Tong followers to assist you in the Deadlands.”

“I shall do my best to eliminate the Imperial Count,” I swore. I didn’t like it, but when the fate of millions was the price of one life, I was willing to pay it. I started walking towards Cheydinhal, ready to eliminate the Count.

The dream/vision was wonderfully done, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. You have done a great job weaving the history of MW and OB together with Zalphon lore.

It seems Boethia has dropped poor, noble Kalian right into a classic dilemma. His task seems to be murder to support a higher cause. The stuff of gut-wrenching decision-making. Plenty of internal conflict material here. I wonder what he will discover/learn/do in Cheydinhal and if any twists await him there? Will he seek counsel from the old assassin, Quick Strike? I like it.

As ever, you display a fertile and creative imagnination. Your dialogue and descriptions are getting very good! In fact your whole storytelling has come so far since your old newspaper reporter bullet style.

You might continue working on overuse of the same word in close proximity. A couple examples:

Playing with it during final editing can help work these things out.

Again, word smithing during editing is the place to tinker with this and change it to something like: 'Evangeline smiled into my eyes, then hugged me.'

Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Battle of Cheydinhal

I reached Cheydinal when the moon was high in the sky. The guard at the gate wore an unusual armor. A suit of steel armor and he held an ebony long-sword. “Do you have an appointment with Count Victor?” he asked.

“I am a traveler,” I replied. “I seek refuge in the walls of Cheydinhal.”

“Only natives of Cheydinhal and chosen outsiders are allowed,” the Guard spit. “You’re obviously not a native. If you were, you’d be in something more suitable. And you’re not a chosen outsider, they have special papers.”

N’wah. This would be slightly harder than I thought. Quick-Strike gave me the sign for “okay” and I drew my blade. A throwing knife appeared in the guard’s neck and I hissed a spell in alteration to push open the door.

“Sound the alarms,” a Watchman called. “Intruders are trying to enter Cheydinhal.” I heard a sonic-booming voice.

“Citizens of Cheydinhal, defend yourself,” a loud voice shouted. “Invaders have come to kill us, draw your arms.”

I sighed deeply and charged towards the Watchman. He wore a suit of iron chain-mail and held a halberd of the same material. With a lunge, I struck his heart. The watchman fell in slow motion to my eyes. His eyes filled with emotion and fear. “Defend yourself,” Nerevar’s voice invaded. “Kill the guards, Evangeline is killing the wizard, while J’skooma is dispelling the spell-barrier that stops teleportation around Castle Cheydinhal.”

My blade danced through the swarms of guards. Blood sprayed onto my helm and my armor. Tears burned my eyes as my blade and entered and exited the protectors of Cheydinhal.

I saw a man in a suit of daedric armor with a black great-sword walk into the streets of Cheydinhal. The guards stopped fighting and kneeled. “I am, Umbra, prepare to die,” the warrior commanded. “I have defended Cheydinhal for two-hundred and fifty years. I will not stop today.”

His blade almost decapitated me, but I parried. “Surrender, Umbra,” I replied with confidence. “I will not die; my destiny is written in the Tides of Fate. Yours need not end here.”

“For three-hundred years I have walked Nirn,” Umbra growled as he continued the assault. “I long for death, but it will not come to me.”

He knocked me down with the hilt of the sword and right as he was about to thrust the blade into my chest and kill me. I slashed at his throat, causing suffocation and extreme blood loss. Umbra was dead. Another enslaved follower of the blade would rise up, but that would be some time later.

The guard-captain kneeled before me, “We shall defend against the Count if we see him.”

I ran through the streets and saw the colossal, Castle Cheydinhal. The Chapel of Arkay was now dedicated to Mephala. The huge, double-doors of Castle Cheydinhal opened and out walked Count Victor Drake. “The outsider that has killed Umbra,” he said in surprise. “Interesting. You should know, I will kill you, Champion.”

Quick-Strike threw a blade inside the neck of Count Victor. The aged vampire fell to his knees and died. The Argonian jumped down to me and said, “We will talk when we leave.” The Guards of Cheydinhal bowed; apparently they only served in fear.

When we left Cheydinhal, Quick-Strike stopped me. “I have been made the Grand Watcher, before Magnus, J’skooma, and I held equal rank. Now I am in command of the entire order. Magnus died to Zalphon, this is a sad day. I will meet you at the Shrine of Boethia, as will J’skooma.”

The Argonian ran off into the blackness of the night. “Kalian,” Evangeline whispered. “I just received word that my sister is dying. She lives in Pell’s Gate and I must try to help her. Will you come with?”

It stung to say the words, “No.”

She whimpered, “R-r-really?”

“I have more important things.”

“I am going to Pell’s Gate, when we head to the Dead Lands, I will fight with you. But I must try to help my sister.”

Tears burnt my eyes as I watched her teleport away.

When I reached the Shrine of Boethia, his voice echoed, “The Count lies dead, yet your friend is gone.”

“Give me my reward, Boethia.”

A black cloak with a hood appeared on the shrine and wrapped up in it was a golden katana. I set down my shield and donned the cloak. “My cloak will hide you when you need and always keep your identity a secret.”

“Nerevar sends me word that he would like to speak to you. J’skooma will take us to Akavir, however be wary, the dangers are powerful,” Quick-Strike warned cryptically. “Especially the Tscaeci.”

I nodded and bright-blue light surrounded me…

Okay, I’ve caught up with this story again. I think that maybe Kalian should have left Evangeline at home when he went to Meridia’s shrine (although that probably wouldn’t have helped). I liked the conversation between Quick-Strike and J’Skooma. Pyandonea? Wow, those two have sure been through a lot!

Then Kalian has to fight an Ogrim Titan . . . with his bare hands! The first time I saw one of those I was looking for Mehrunes’ Razor in a cave in Vvardenfell. I ‘pulled a Buffy’ and wet myself, then promptly left the cave!

Seriously, I am still laughing over this line! Y’think, J’Skooma?

Only you would think that ‘thirty or more years of age’ is old, Zalphon!

I won’t comment any more on Evangeline’s decapitation. That was just cruel. I will say that it is pretty obvious that you don’t have a lot of experience with women. I can’t get my girlfriend to forgive me for accidentally dropping a ten pound dumbbell on her foot. A decapitation would definitely merit at least an attitude! Then again, Magnus did give her back her younger body so everything might be all good. I withdraw my earlier comment, turns out you know something about women after all!

Captain Hammer brings up some interesting points that you should pay heed to. Sometimes your story reads more like narration than action. Kalian shows up to Shrine. Daedric Prince is impressed; gives Kalian a task. Kalian accomplishes it without working up a sweat. Rinse and repeat. I have yet to feel as if Kalian might lose a fight. We are told that he is the greatest of swordsmen, the most powerful of mages. And if all that fails, he has the crème de la crème of assassins who is favored by Nocturnal herself/himself at his back with a handy throwing knife. I know that you think you have set obstacles in Kalian’s path, but go back and re-read your own work. Considering what he is up against, these ‘trials’ have been remarkably easy.

Destri, he's not mortal. The conversation between Nerevar and Kalian explained it. (And Evangeline didn't remember anything )

They're more than mortal, basically demi-gods. While his challenges appear more-or-less easy, I try to make it appear as if they're morally challenging him.

Even in that, then, you need to go back and look at the moral conflict. Kalian has problems with killing Evangeline?

Immediately after being told to kill her, he draws his sword and tries to behead her. And when it doesn't work? Bam, quick use of anti-magic and then the beheading.

What about the assassination of the Count of Cheydinhal?

Nope, he rides up to the gates, knocks 'em down, and suddenly (and quite conveniently) the count's a vampire. Oh look, the killing of the count ain't such a problem now.

Peryite's quest?

There, you start to show some moral conflict. Kalian is at least partially shown to spend some considerable time on the issue of killing the other inflicted combatants. But not a lot.




Difficult discussion, inbound here. Tread carefully.

I'm going to be honest here, and I'm pretty divided on telling you this. You've got a great concept, good ideas, and a nicely put together over-arching plot that you want to follow. I don't want you to take this the wrong way, and change what's working. But I feel that it must be said, and after Destri backed me on the conflict issue, I think it needs to be spelled out:


(With regret of having to invoke some of the direct linking to come.)

Kalian's a Marty Stu. Ye Olde Most Boring Invincible Hero. The fact that you're trying to depict demi-gods? That just means it criss-crosses the line of God Mode Sue.

And his two assassin buddies? Not one, but two, Count 'Em Two, Aces. And they're glad to play side-kick to Kalian.

You actually want to seem to make this an in-depth, highly intricate story. And it's for this reason that I am going to refrain from recommending that you turn this into the Rule of Cool, featuring Kalian in the starring role of the Showy Invincible Hero.




I can only repeat somebody truly wise, and thouroghly authoritative, once said: the unexamined life is not worth living.

Writing about a character facing moral the moral dilemma is, by definition, philosophical drama. It's long. It's complex. It requires both a deep understanding of the psychological and ethical underpinnings of an issue, combined with deliberative writing method. If it is morally challenging, then spend entire, detailed posts on a character's inner argument with himself about whether he ought to do something.

The best recommendation that I can make at this point is to read Treydog's "Story of Trey." Or Black Hand's "The Tale of Sethyas Velas." Both fan fics follow the Morrowind storyline, yet each character is unique, and so very enthralling. Despite the fact that both writers use pretty much similar story lines and extremely similar plot points, I find it impossible to choose who I like better.

And that is all because both heroes face moral challenges and dilemmas, and spend plenty of time worrying over their choices. Physical vulnerabilities aside, each Nerevarine character is an evolving persona that experiences deep character growth over the course of their respective stories.

Ultimately, I think that is what most defines a good story: Depth.

Noted, Captain. These are equivalent to the Shrine quests of Morrowind/Oblivion. And *drumroll* he's going where few have gone and survived... Akavir! This won't be easy, if anything he may be fighting for life and limb with every battle.

So the dilemma in Cheydinhal was resolved and Kalian completed his task.

Poor Evangeline. She just can't win. Kicked to the curb again.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Akavir

We were in the wooden house I saw in my dreams. However, I stood over a Dunmer with white hair, a black shirt, blue pants, and tanned work-boots. “Moon-and-Star lies dead,” Quick-Strike noted. “The Tscaesci must be at work here.” I turned over his body to reveal two holes in his neck.

“The Ts-Ts-Tscaesci?” I asked. They’re more dangerous than any creature in Tamriel.”

“Indeed,” J’skooma stated. “J’skooma remembers the last time he fought a Tscaesci, the golden-scaled snake-man was powerful. He had the upper-body of a man, but a snake’s head and a snake’s tail.”

“Sssslither will be glad,” A hissing voice said. “Sssslither will be pleased.” I looked to where it was coming from. A golden-scaled snake-man slid down the stairs. His golden eyes with black slits for pupils dug into my soul. He wielded a katana and donned a cuirass of black-metal scales.

“Stay here,” Quick-Strike ordered. He drew his blades and charged at the Tscaesci. The creature parried every blow from the Argonian. I charged and drew my blade. With a mighty blow, Goldbrand bounced off the cuirass.

“G-G-Goldbrand didn’t cut through his armor?” I asked myself in disbelief. “It didn’t cut through.” My voice dripped with fear. The snake-man swung his sword at me, and I felt immense pain in my left hand.

I screamed in pain, “Owww!” When I looked at it, I didn’t have a left hand. It had been severed, blood gushed from it. I fainted, cowardly I know, but I couldn’t stand the sight of my own blood.

I awoke sometime later. “Was that a dream?” I questioned. “Are we alive?”

“It was real,” Quick-Strike reminded me. “The Tscaesci amputated your limb. However, Nerevar had an artifact in his possession. Yagrum Bagarn created a special Dwemer gauntlet that would serve as either hand for the user. It would bind to their stump forever. I looked at my hand. A golden-metallic metal had become my left hand.

“J’skooma read that it’s less dexterous than a normal hand, but stronger,” the Khajiit blurted. “It is called, ‘the Gauntlet’”

I was handed a note. It was kind of hard to grasp with my left hand, due to the new-ness. It didn’t feel right at all. It was quickly scrawled down on the paper.

“Kalian,

I knew you would come to Akavir to answer my plight. I leave you my twin-blades. Trueflame and Hopesfire are the ones. They are yours to use against Dagon. However, I ask that you defeat the Tscaesci who slaughtered the Imperial Settlers.

You may leave if you so choose, but remember Azura watches. We are champions, you may use your power if you will, but I ask that you use it to avenge these people. The Tscaesci are approaching my home, when you arrive I’ll be dead.

Signed,

Lord Nerevar Indoril”

I walked over to a display case which held the twin blades. I opened and a tear fell from my eye to the case. My hero was dead; I had idolized this man since I was a small boy. Nerevar Indoril the Chimer Warlord and the Incarnate, he was the man I always wanted to be.

I firmly gripped Trueflame in my right hand and Hopesfire in my new hand. Trueflame was far lighter and Hopesfire wasn’t exactly heavy. “Do they feel right?” Quick-Strike asked. “They are yours now, use them well.”

I nodded and swung them a little bit. They felt like an extension of my arm. They both glowed brightly with power. I headed up the stairs and saw a jewelry box. I opened it and saw a weird ring and put it on. An image filled my mind of Lord Voryn Dagoth. The Heart Ring. I pulled out another ring and put it on and I saw a vision of an Ash Vampire. The Blood Ring. I put on an amulet that looked similar to the Heart Ring and saw a vision of another Ash Vampire. The Amulet of Heartfire.

I looked at his dressers. I opened it and noticed a white-shirt with a black jacket and put it on. A pair of white pants made of a silken-fabric. I put on my armor back over these clothes. “Nerevar would be honored to see you in these clothes,” Quick-Strike said. “The Tscaesci await us.”

I walked out of the house, I saw an abandoned Imperial Settlement. It took me a few minutes to jog over there with Quick-Strike and J’skooma following. Corpses littered the ground; tears burned my eyes to see how many were dead. “J’skooma thinks Moon-and-Star told the truth, they really were exterminated,” J’skooma cried out. “J’skooma is sad.”

“Indeed,” I said. “The Tscaesci will pay, I swear it…”

Ooh, Kalian's hand got severed! What's next, he meets an Illusion of Zalphon who wears a mask and dark clothing? Who also had his hand severed and calls himself 'Dark Invader'?

Lolz!

That aside, I completely, 100 percent ditto the Captain. He gave you an important advice, and my advice is to treasure said advice. He he.

So the fearsome reputaton of the Tscaesci has some merit, it seems. Ouch!

@Urenia, what are you referencing?

@Acadian, I have always been fond of Akavir and want the Tscaesci to live up to their reputation. In DnD there are creatures of similar physical form, yet they tend to be seen as weaker.

Ureniashtram's referencing Star Wars. "Dark Invader" -> "Darth Vader".

Protagonist loses hand in fight, and his paternal ancestor is an evil ultra-powerful Sith Lord, I mean Dark Mage, in service to an even more evil, darker overlord.

Wasn't meant to be that way . The Gauntlet is actually an artifact from an old story of mine. Malx would love to see the reference, but alas she is not here.

It was meant to be a joke! Hahaha... ugh.

I thought it was hilarious.

Much better than that pun about me being a Captain and my advice bein' treasure.

Pun.. ? Oh. Completely unintended, Capt'n, really.

Eh, maybe it's just me.

My D&D summer troupe is really off-beat and doesn't play with any amount of serious effort.

So I recycled a defunct character named Wyse Assthe Punne-May'Kar (Wise @ss the Pun-Maker), a half-elf bard.

He literally gets bonuses from the DM every time I make either a really good pun, or an incredibly lame pun, in attachment to a dice roll.

Which I need, 'cause my dice rolls are compassion, and it's the only real way I can ever crit on something.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Tscaesci Palace

I took a few steps outside of the house and saw a Tscaesci. With all the rage building up inside me, I couldn’t help it; I charged at it with both blades in hand. The golden-scaled creature parried with its long-bladed katana. “You dare attack his blessssed, I will smite you,” the creature hissed. Who is he that this creature speaks of?

I thrust Hopesfire into the Tscaesci and barked, “Give me the answers I want. Who is he?” I interrogated as I twisted the blade. “Follow me and remove your blade, ssssoft-ssssscale.”

Obediently, I tore the blade out of his flesh. He screamed in anguish, it stung my ears, but I shed no tears for the beast that attacked Moon-and-Star. The Tscaesci slithered towards the Imperial Settlement. We entered the town-hall and there stood a Tscaesci in a plate-mail breast-plate with a shining, silver claymore in hand. I recognized the runes on it from a book. Chrysamere.

“I am the warlord who killed the villagers,” It explained. “I do not lead the Tscaesci people, but I will gladly take those swords, Kalian.”

He didn’t have the same speech impediment as other Tscaesci and he knew my name. This was strange. “How do you know my name,” I inquisitively replied.

“I’ll die before I tell you anything,” the Warlord snarled. “Draw your blades or I’ll plunge them into your heart. Actually, I think I’ll do that anyway.” His red eyes and black pupils spit ice down my spine.

Quick-Strike whispered, “We’ll watch the door so no more Tscaesci can enter the fray.”

I nodded and the Warlord came near me and slashed at me. With Trueflame, I parried and with Hopesfire, I riposted. “We killed the dragons, and we can easily kill you,” he taunted. “Tosh Raka is the only survivor of our conquest.”

I had to win this fight or risk execution or worse, their dark rituals. Hopesfire slashed at the throat, while Trueflame aimed for the stomach. Trueflame cut through the armor and into the chest, but my off-hand weapon missed. His mighty blade hit my arm and I felt it burn.

“Now you shall die, soft-scale,” he hissed in anguish. “I’ll use your spine as a beating stick for the hatchlings.” I felt his blade cut into my neck and everything went black. I thought I was dead, but when I awoke I was in a loin-cloth in a gray-stone dungeon in a cell. It reminded me of the Imperial Prison a little bit.

“Poor ssssoft-sssscale,” the Jailor cackled. “Had to pick a fight with the most race to ever walk Nirn.”

My cell-mate looked at me. He was an Imperial. His hair was long, dirty, and white, he boast a white beard and a thin abdomen. “I been in here since they attacked us,” he sighed. “I’m going to die in here. So will you.”

The Jailor came back. It was smaller than most other Tscaesci I had seen, so I guessed it was a female. “I have been hungering and you’re sssso old and feeble,” the Tscaesci said as she opened the cell. She grabbed my cell-mate and sunk her fangs into his neck.

I would’ve done something, but I’d be next if I did. She dragged him out, he gave no struggle. I was alone, no Quick-Strike, no J’skooma, no Evangeline. I would have to fight my way out or get out on my own.

I looked at my shackles and had an idea. “Hey Tscaesci, couldn’t kill all the dragons,” I barked. “You’re so pathetic; I bet the tiger-people could easily snap your neck.” Never had I seen a snake-creature move so fast. Within a few seconds she was in my cell. I used the chain of my shackles to suffocate her. It took a few minutes, but I grabbed the key-ring and unlocked my bindings.

I moved silently as I walked out of the cell. I looked in the other cells, just bones. A plain, wooden chest was locked at the end of the hall and I ran over to it. Perhaps it held my swords. When I opened it, it had a note.

“Hissarisi,

Hissarisi, after you read this note burn it. The prisoner you have is extremely dangerous. The High Shaman has seen a vision of this soft-scale. She said that he will bring down our empire if we don’t stop him.

His Argonian and Khajiit companions are going to be executed next Morndas, by the Emperor himself. He supposedly has fought them in the past, but they nearly killed him. If the soft-scale causes any trouble kill him.

Lord Skar.”

Quick-Strike and J’skooma would be executed seven days from now. I had to stop this, even if it meant I could die. They’ve saved my life more times than I can count; now I need to repay the favor.

My armor was gone, my weapons were gone, and I would need some protection of some kind. I looked in the Jailor’s office and saw a chest. I opened it and noticed a steel chain-mail tunic, a pair of pants, and some leather boots. Most likely the other prisoner’s belongings, not that he would need them anymore. I put on the clothes and armor. I could use a weapon, but I’d be okay for now.

Now that I had some armor, I would need to escape the prison and make it to the Tscaesci palace to rescue my friends. It was time for me to finally live up to the title of the Champion of Nirn by rescuing one of the oldest guardians of it…

This flowed well.

Ok, I want to see Tosh Raka! Oooh! Don't you think you could work a dragon into your story?

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Akavir

I love Kalian’s reaction when the Tsaesci severs his hand:

This is a step in the right direction, Zalphon. At last we see Kalian against a foe that he can’t defeat with ease. I look forward to reading your take on Akavir.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Tsaesci Palace

Kalian may not be mortal, but in these last few chapters you have begun to succeed in making him human. Now, as he is about to assault the Tsaesci Palace in second hand armor with no weapon, we can empathize with his situation and we can root for him to prevail. Well done.

I am a serious dragon-fan Acadian (the players my DnD fear dragons, due to even whelps being 15th level wizards, clerics, and fighters. 30 is the max level in the current edition.)

Tosh Raka will more-than-likely have an appearance. And the Tscaesci are very, very powerful beings. As are their rivals. A single Tscaesci could take on four or five Imperial Legion soldiers.

Destri, I have been trying to give him a much more mortal feel (he has some divine power, but he's not a god). I personally thought it was really cool to bring back the Gauntlet.

I fear he may anger Tang Mo or go to *gulp* Kamal. The Ka Po'Tun may also have influence. I have big plans for the events of Akavir. And after it too.

Apparently he's not just the Champion of Tamriel like he thought. His pilgrimage to the shrines has changed to a pilgrimage to the continents? Only time will tell

Chapter Thirty: The Fate of Nirn

I slowly crept out of the prison and heard two voices. “Quick-Strike shall die,” one voice hissed. “He must be tortured.”

“Perhaps, Klaw, perhaps he will,” the other responded. I looked at my feet for something to distract them. A few pebbles and a small stone. My hands firmly wrapped around the stone and I tossed it across the hall-way.

Their golden-scaled tails slithered past the sconce-lit stair-case. I silently darted up the stairs. When I reached the top I saw a Tscaesci, his bright gold scales and dark red eyes scanned the room. The light of the torches reflected off his shiny scales and cuirass. He flicked his tongue in the air and noticed me.

The creature sprinted towards me with both of ebony katana drawn. “I am a member of the Tscaesci Blades. Prepare to die,” he ordered. His voice was intimidating to say the least; I could sense his rage.

With a prayer to the Nine, I tried to punch him. However, it didn’t work. My mind was filled with a searing vision of Tamriel. The sky was red, the White-Gold tower was as black as night. Daedra marched across and killed the mortals, skeletal soldiers aided in the butchery.

I then saw a Dunmer standing atop the White-Gold Tower. He shouted with a booming voice, “On this day, Nirn shall be purged. Reborn from the ashes it shall be…”

My fist bounced off the armor as I returned to reality. I had failed, Tamriel had fallen and soon, Nirn would too. I had to save Quick-Strike and J’skooma, Zalphon needed to die.

The palace began to crumble as I heard a roar, “Tamriel is the first step to the end of Nirn.” When a piece of ceiling fell, I saw a huge, orange dragon with black tiger stripes. He flew down and grabbed me with his left claw, Quick-Strike and J’skooma were on his back.

“Tosh Raka?” I asked in amazement. It was real dragon, not just a fairytale. It was thee Tosh Raka.

“Indeed,” he telepathically said. “Tamriel has already begun to fall, I shall leave you in Mournhold, it is one of the Holding Pens of Tamriel.” I merely nodded and appeared in the City of Lights and Magic.

The beauty was gone; Dremora held long swords and archers lined the walls. We were captives, but I could get out by finding the ancient portal to Tamriel that is rumored to be in the sewers. “Halt,” a Daedric Foot-Soldier ordered. “Why are you in armor and not in the slave-uniform?”
“I…Ummm… I was just transferred here from Fort Vos in Vvardenfell,” I lied. I wasn’t sure if he believed it, but I hoped.

“Interesting.” I saw a look on his face. Disbelief showed in his crimson eyes. “Master Arkoth, this is one of the rebels.”

A lich walked over. “Kalian, the dark lord told us of you. Kill him,” Arkoth barked. “If he escapes, I’ll personally make sure all of you scribs are being bathed in flame for the next month.”

The guards charged at me, but the enthralled prisoners revolted. Just the thing I needed. I made a hand-signal pointing to a sewer grate and we jumped in. The smell was foul, but it was our only chance. Hundreds of years ago, the Nerevarine killed the goblins and their Altmeri trainers down here, hopefully there are no remnants.

“Tosh Raka is a dear friend of J’skooma’s,” the Wizard smiled. “J’skooma saved Tosh Raka from the Demons of Kamal long ago.”

“Indeed,” Quick-Strike stated. “When Zalphon, J’skooma, and I navigated these sewers in search of the traitorous dog, Helseth, we found a gateway to the White-Gold Tower. I wonder if it still exists.”

The dark, damp under-works of Mournhold had a stench of death and skooma. For hours we navigated, but to no avail. Finally, we saw a metal door and I pushed it open. An ovular-portal stood there, but in front of it stood him…

Adam wore a suit of black-and-red daedric armor. “Zalphon brought me back, I was reborn. He told me you’d come, he told me to kill you.”

“Stop,” I cried out. “This doesn’t have to happen.”

“Am I corrupt? Is that what you think? I am enlightened, fools. Surrender yourself to his will and you’ll feel the grasp of death, what a wonderful grip it has.”

“You know that’s false, as do I.”

“Is it false? I have brought forth revolution, my power is beyond imagination.”

I drew my blade and he mimicked me. Quick-Strike charged and stabbed at the vampire. However, they slid off his armor. I lunged my blade into the weak-spot of his armor, his neck. Adam hissed, “I pray this will be my final rest, I have much atonement in the after-life.” I kneeled over him and a tear burnt my face and slid to his chest.

We entered the portal; the fate of Nirn was on our shoulders… The question was, would we succeed?

Whew! They made it out. And with the help of a DRAGON! WooHoo! I liked how you tied J'skooma's past to Tosh Raka and the Kamal.

Nice job blending Kalian getting smacked down by the snake with his 'dream/vision'. Kinda mystical and all. Kalian seems a little more vulnerable than he did earlier, and I find it becoming on him.

Nicely done also, how you resurrected Adam and allowed him a final rest.

Now, since Kalian has time to go play with dragons, perhaps he can try to make amends for being a, well, donkey's butt, to Evangeline. He's sacrificed her once, beheaded her once and blew her off once - I'm not sure she can forgive him this time.

I don't think she will either. Remember the vision, Pell's Gate is a small settlement and Tamriel has been sweeped with the Daedra/Undead Armada. Anything is possible... This story will definitely make it in Zalphon's Fan-Fic Lore. I sense future stories with rumors floating around about Kalian.

I agree with Acadian, tying J’Skooma and Quick-Strike’s past to Tosh Roka and the Kamal was good. And it was nice to see Adam back even though he didn’t stay around very long, did he?

What happened to the Tsaesci that Kalian was fighting? Was he buried under the rubble from the collapsed ceiling?

I would be remiss if my comments didn’t include a warning to be careful of the Deus ex machina(see here). In this chapter you use it not once, but twice. . . Tosh Raka’s convenient appearance to bail Kalian out of his fight with the Tsaesci, and the slaves sudden revolt to coincide curiously with Kalian’s appearance in Mournhold (well, strictly speaking, you use it three times if you count Quick-Strike attacking Adam to provide just enough of a diversion for Kalian to come up and leisurely stab him in the neck).

This begs another question, but this one is an easy fix: When Adam challenges him Kalian ‘draws his blade’, but as near as I could tell he was still weaponless. It seems logical that Quick-Strike would have given him a weapon at some point after his rescue, but you need to tell us that this happened otherwise it just feels contrived.

I see, Destri. I won't make the same mistakes again.

Chapter Thirty-One: The Final Battle

Suits of armor, swords and axes, all kinds of weapons were on tables. I donned a suit of Daedric Armor and a long-sword of Daedric craft. “Kalian, there is a good chance this will be our tomb. May Anu watch over you, Kalian,” Quick-Strike whispered as he put on a suit of black-leather armor.

I merely nodded. I had no fear, not anymore. Whether this was divine or mundane, I was ready to slay ‘my Ancestor’. We walked up the stairs and J’skooma cast a spell to open the lock.

A Dremora walked over to us and bowed deeply. “You have made it so far, Kalian. However, you didn’t do it fast enough,” he cackled. “It is I, Valkynaz Proditor. The Daedric Armada has swept Tamriel, and soon Nirn. Dagon will soon join us and your foolish little quest will be crushed.”

“Proditor,” I hissed. “You’re just a worm. I have watched my friends die and rise up again. I have fought Tscaesci. I have met Tosh Raka. You’re merely another foe I need to slay.”

Valkynaz Proditor stepped back. “You ash-born, you scrib, you nix-hound, I’ll kill you.” He drew his sword and I drew mine. I thrust into his chest, as he slashed at my arm. Blood began draining into my armor, but I couldn’t stop. Almost as if it had a mind of its own, my sword went straight for his throat.

Proditor riposted it. A blow struck me in the torso. As I fell to the ground, I slashed at his eyes. He fell too. Darkness filled my vision, but I had to stay awake. My Argonian friend kneeled beside me and muttered a spell. Suddenly, I felt a burst of vigor. However, Quick-Strike was dying.

I cradled him and asked, “Why? Why did you do it?”

“Even the greats must enter the Dreamsleeve, Kalian. Today I die; my life is in Anu’s hands now. Will I be reincarnated again as myself with all my memories and skills or will I be reincarnated as someone else, only time will tell,” The Argonian stated. “Farewell, Kalian. May Anu watch over you.”

I could feel his life-force fade. J’skooma fell to his knees and I saw tears wet his furry face. “J’skooma is horribly sad, Quick-Strike is dead,” the Khajiit sobbed. “J’skooma must leave and search for Quick-Strike if he is reborn as Quick-Strike again.”

A tear burned my eyes as the insane mage ran off. I walked and the Dremora, the Necromancers, and the Skeletal Champions kneeled. I reached a white-gold door that led to stairs. One of the Dremora said to me, “You killed Valkynaz Proditor. You are worthy of combating against Zalphon.”

“Why do you let me pass?” I questioned suspiciously.

“We are soldiers and warriors. However, we respect combat and honor. You killed Valkynaz Proditor honorably, the best of us all and Lord Dagon’s second-in-command. Zalphon waits at the top of the tower. Slay Zalphon and Dagon will be weakened back to his normal form and the other Princes will weaken him so that he can’t return after they banish him.”

I nodded, “Zalphon awaits my blade.” I opened the door and walked up the spiral staircase. There he stood.

A Dunmer with hair as black as ebony and a suit of Daedric Armor protected his body. “I am impressed,” he stated. “Quick-Strike lays dead, J’skooma hunts for him. I was rather eager to speak to my former friend.”

“You betrayed us all, Quick-Strike, J’skooma, the Nine,” I scowled. “I am the Champion of Nirn, destined to stop you and make you suffer for your crimes.” I had no fear. I was confident, ready to kill him.

“Kalian, if I wanted you dead… I would’ve done so. I have waited for this day for decades. Mundus will be mine. You may bask in my triumph as my equal.”

I wanted to take his offer, but I drew my sword instead. I would die before I served with or for him. “Zalphon, today you die,” I barked. “Your death will be fast.”

He turned around and frowned. He tore his blade out of the scabbard. With godly haste he slashed at me, but I parried. As if everything was slowed. I lunged, but he dodged it. Instantaneously his long-sword cut into my right arm. A surge of adrenaline rushed through my blood.

With an elegant strike, almost a dance I stabbed his heart. He fell to his knees and whispered, “Impressive, Kalian. Know this; I always did care about you. You are my great grandson.”

He fell on his face and the sky’s red-color faded into light gray as rain fell. A bright flash of light appeared and I saw a white-skinned elf in white plate-mail. “Greetings Kalian, I am an Avatar of Anu. You have completed the Prophecy of the Black Dawn. Your days of walking Nirn are over,” he telepathically stated. A burst of light emitted from his palm as he placed it on my chest.

My journey was over, I had ascended. To where? I don’t know, but I found myself speaking to the Nine Divines. We were surrounded by blackness with stars and celestial planets, but I’m not sure where we were.

And so ends my tale...

Sir Kalian Broodikus, Champion of Nirn

Epilogue

Tamriel was changed after Zalphon fell. A long-lost Septim descendent was found, Reman Septim. He brought peace to the Empire and restored it to the glory it had during the previous Septim Dynasty.

Kalian became a hero to the people of Nirn. The Tscaesci viewed him as the Great Protector. The peoples of Tamriel made several stories for him. The Dunmer of Morrowind called him the Incarnate of Vivec. The Nords of Skyrim called him the Grand Warrior, while the Nords of Solstheim call him the Guardian Spirit.

The Denizens of Illiac Bay called him the Avatar of Ebonarm. The Argonians of the Black Marsh said he was the Hero of Argonia. The Khajiit of Elsewyr noted him as the High Protector. The Bosmer of Valenwood named him the High Ranger.

However, he had one name in common to all of them. The Champion of Nirn was his title. In the town of Sutch, there was a Chapel of Kalian. To the people of Tamriel, he was more than a hero…

Forever more, Kalian Broodikus would be remembered in the hearts of the survivors and the libraries of Tamriel...

Oooh! This was beautifully done, Zalphon. Just a very good story with a fine ending. I have enjoyed reading this. So, Kalian joins the ranks of Z-lore. Somehow, I know we will see the Argonian assassin and the crazy cat-mage again. . . .

Your epilogue was, in my opinion, used exactly the way an epilogue should. Well done!



Question, or nit:
I looked around and the only Dunmer I see is Kalian himself. Therefore, I assume Kalian is the actor in this paragraph. Why is this then not in first person, since it is Kalian's first person story? Did you simply slip into third person for this paragraph by mistake, or am I missing something?

That was an accident Acadian.

And Quick-Strike and J'skooma never die true deaths. They'll always have an appearance, no matter how minute or major...

And don't worry, a story is on the horizon. This one will have a protagonist you'll like Acadian

I love that your characters return for each new adventure, I know them and love them. If you wrote without them it wouldn't be the same!

With some major proof-reading and edits, this is being published in my school litmag (misappropriately named, it's actually a book).

Congrats! Well done!

I can't wait Zalphon !!! AWESOME !!! And Congrats !!!