Right, before Illydoor gets too carried away with formulating conspiracy theories about food, here's another part to get things back on topic.

Part 23-Subterfuge

Alicarius spent a whole week recovering from his fight with Ocato. He was extensively quizzed about what he knew of the High Chancellor's treachery by several people in the process, mainly important people from various organisations devoted to the Empire's safety. Jauffre had visited as well to find out about the assassination attempt and Ocato's betrayal. It did explain the excellent information the Mythic Dawn had been receiving, for example, how they knew about the Emperor's secret escape route and Martin. The young man also sent his regards, but obviously for safety reasons he couldn't visit in person.

Serrio had rushed into Alicarius' room as soon as he had heard he was awake, and it turned out he had been waiting outside the infirmary for the whole week that Alicarius had been asleep. Alicarius was touched by his lieutenant's loyalty-he hoped that the incident would help Serrio forget any feelings of resentment towards him.

Serene had occasionally visited too. Apart from a few bumps and bruises, she had been left unscathed by Ocato's attack, and had been more concerned about him. What she was more curious about was Alicarius', or Tashan's, former love, Serranna. She thought the curious coincidence through, but could make nothing of it, other than it being an unusual twist of fate. Her last visit was to tell him that she was heading back home to Vvardenfel.

“You should come and visit us in Ald-Ruhn some time if you're ever there,” she said. “Athyn would be delighted to meet you.”

“If I ever do come, it'll be the first thing I do,” Alicarius replied. “Of course, if I can ever manage to extricate myself from my duties to the Legion first. I'll see if I can get myself transferred there.”

Serene gave a gentle laugh, one that seemed all too similar to Sarrennas' to Alicarius, and smiled.

“If you do, see if you can find a friend of mine-Ismin the Dreamer,” she said. “She works in the Legion herself.”

“I'll do just that then,” Alicarius said. “After I've sorted out this mess with the daedra, some time in Vvardenfel would be like a holiday.”

After she had left, Alicarius was left alone with his thoughts.

He was discharged a few days later and, along with Serrio, headed back to Chorrol.

The two days needed for travelling were uneventful, and by the time they had got back, Serrio was more concerned about what the men were doing to in his absence than about any bandits on the road.

What they did find was a garrison living in fear of the deputy Serrio had put in place, a huge, tyrannical orc known as Reglad grak-Korrosh, and the hash regime of punishment he had installed made sure the men hadn't put a toe out of line. Obviously he had taken extreme measures to make sure he didn't have a repetition of Serrio's week.

The first thing Alicarius did, much to the relief of the men, was to cancel out almost all of the punishments that Reglad had instated for the more minor crimes. He also decided to ignore the fact that the night after Reglad had been removed from his seat of power, he had been beaten an knocked unconscious by a group of unknown assailants, before having his clothes stolen. As Serrio pointed out; “It serves him right for being a honoured user.”

Largely the week was uneventful, much to the relief of both Alicarius and Serrio, until there was a surprise visit from Walker on the Water.

“Greetings sir,” Walker said, who was waiting for Alicarius outside Castle Chorrol's barracks. Alicarius noticed that the argonian needed a pair of crutches to help him walk-obviously the stab wound he had suffered was still having an effect on him. “I come with a message from Jauffre.”

After the initial greetings had been exchanged, Alicarius asked about what Walker wanted.

“Jauffre has a message asking for your help,” Walker said.

“Again?” Alicarius asked. “I seem to be getting dragged away from my duties almost every other week.”

“Actually, he was hoping you could give him a recommendation for someone to to a job for him,” Walker replied. “We have a lead on the Mythic Dawn, but we can't pursue without the help of someone outside of the Blades-with Ocato's treachery, Jauffre isn't sure whether the Mythic Dawn know which agents are ours, and doesn't want to take any risks.”

“So he wants me to send someone along to help him?” Alicarius asked.

“Exactly,” Walker said. “He wants someone who knows how to fight, is completely loyal to the Empire, isn't too noticeable and has enough brains to work out any puzzles.”

Alicarius only needed to think for a moment.

“I know just the man,” he said.

#

“Have you gone mad?” Serrio asked Alicarius.

“No Serrio, I'm sure I'm still sane,” Alicarius replied.

“Are you sure you haven't taken any mind altering substances like Skooma or Moon Sugar?” Serrio asked

“Yes.

“You certain?”

“Yes.”

“So you seriously want me to back to the Imperial City to investigate the whereabouts of a cult full of maniacs?”

“For goodness sake Serrio, this could be our only chance of recovering the Amulet of Kings,” Alicarius snapped. “Of course it's risky.

Serrio raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Alright,” he said. “Alright, I'll do it. But I'm not happy about it, believe me.”

“You aren't in the Legion to be happy, you're in the Legion to do your duty.”

Serrio fixed him with an impassive gaze before finally saying; “You're an evil, evil man, Alicarius.”

“So you'll do it?”

“I'll do it. But if I get killed by some insane cultist, I'm coming back and haunting you.”

#

After the two days of travelling, Serrio finally arrived, tired out and bad tempered, He was waved through the gate by the two guards there, and then consulted the note he had been given. The Merchant's Inn, Imperial City Market District. Look for Baurus.

So, the Merchant's inn, he mused. Sounded fancy, but hopefully he wouldn't be barred entry just because he looked a little messy. He gave an armpit an experimental sniff. Correction-very messy and rather smelly too. He just hoped they had a bath there.

The Merchant's Inn, was, as Serrio had guessed, one of the city's more well-to-do inns, with the sign kept meticulously varnished by the owner. He entered the inn, trying to ignore the furious glare innkeeper was giving him.

He looked for a Baurus-it was a redguard name, and the only redguard in the room was sitting down by the bar. Serrio surreptitiously pulled up a stool next him, and asked for a mug of ale.

“You Baurus?” he asked quietly. Baurus nodded. “Good. I was told I was going to have to meet you.”

Baurus nodded again as Serrio's ale was put down on the table.

“After you have finished your drink,” he said. “I'm going to get up. The man sitting at the table over there-” at this he nodded at an imperial with neatly trimmed brown hair- “is going to get up and follow me. I want you to follow him. Understand.”

Serrio nodded, and hurried down the rest of his drink. Placing it down on the bar, he politely declined the offer of another from the barman. He watched the imperial as closely as he could without attracting undue attention, and waited for him to get up. As soon as he passed out of view, down towards the cellar, Serrio rose from his seat and followed, hand on the hilt of his dagger.

The imperial followed Baurus down the steps of the cellar, drawing his own dagger, completely unaware of Serrio's presence. Baurus was rummaging through a chest, and and behind him, the imperial raised his dagger, ready to strike.

The Serrio grabbed him around the throat, and whispered; “You're nicked!” into his ear.

The imperial tried struggle away, but Baurus had turned and drawn his katana. The imperial slammed his elbow into the side of Serrio's head, who released his grip and staggered away, stunned. He swung his dagger at Baurus wildly and desperately, but he was outmatched-a panicked man with a dagger was no match for a pair of fully trained soldiers and a quick stab from Serrio's longsword quickly finished the fight.

“Check if he has anything on him,” Baurus said.

Serrio crouched down and rifled through the man's pockets.

“Nothing,” he said. “Just some gold and...hello!”

“What is it?” Baurus asked.

Serrio held up a small red book which he had found in the man's pocket.

“Commentaries on the Mythic Dawn, by Mankar Camoran,” he read, before flicking through the pages. “Usual rubbish daedra worshippers go on about-the falsehood of the Nine and all that, how the daedric princes are the true gods. No clues about the Mythic Dawn's whereabouts though.”

“There must be something in there,” Baurus said. “Perhaps a code?”

“Well, it says it's the first volume,” Serrio pointed out. “So there has to be at least one other.”

Baurus frowned thoughtfully, before saying; “Go and talk to Ta Meena over in the Arcane University. She specialises in daedric cults, and ought to know more about the books.”

“I'll head over there straight away,” Serrio said. He glanced at the imperial's corpse. “You realise the poor innkeeper is going to be in for one hell of a shock when he finds this.”

Nice update. It's good to see you're giving Serrio some action, that guy is the kind of character you just have to get along with no matter what, he's just so...likeable lol.

Good work!

Well I've had a soft spot for him myself some time and I thought this would be the perfect chance for him to step into the limelight.

And some more fun with Serrio.

Part 24-Book hunting

The Arcane University, Serrio reflected, was almost like a miniature version of the Imperial City itself-there was a large ring wall around it, it had its own guards and there was tall tower, built to imitate White Gold Tower, rising from the centre. In all honesty he didn't think it was terribly original, but put it down to the fact that they were all wizards there, so probably shouldn't be bothered with originality, and probably were more concerned about whether or not the walls could contain the blast of an experimental spell gone horribly wrong.

Serrio headed through the massive gates, noting the braziers burning with purple flames, and into the main tower, scanning for anyone who might look like a Tar Meena. It was an argonian name, or a khajiit one, though Serrio had yet to see one of the cat people use magic in anger. Usually when they were angry, and their smugglers were, funnily enough, never too pleased to see him, they usually just tried to tear his face off with their claws.

He saw an argonian reading through a thick volume, and hurried over to her.

“Excuse me,” he said politely. “I was looking for a Tar Meena. It's a matter of great importance.”

“You're speaking to her,” the argonian replied, looking up from her book. “What can I do for you?”

“Thought you would be,” Serrio said. “I was told that you could look into a certain book for me.”

“Which book would that be?” Tar Meena asked.

Serrio pulled the slim red book from his pocket.

“The commentaries on the Mythic Dawn,” Serrio replied, showing it to her.

Tar Meena gave him a look that was fairly indecipherable to him, but he took a guess at it being one of bemusement.

“Has Jauffre asked you to do this?” she asked.

“He might have,” Serrio replied, trying to act cool. “Then again, he might not have.”

“He did, didn't he?”

“Oh fine, he did. But this is important, alright.”

“Don't worry, Jauffre's asked me to do things like this for him before. I won't tell a soul. Anyway, onto the book.”

Tar Meena picked up the slim volume and flicked through it with a critical eye.

“Yes,” she said eventually. “This is the genuine thing. One of the first editions published, if I'm not mistaken.”

“So is it worth much then?” Serrio asked. He always took care to see if there was anything that could supplement his rather modest salary as a captain.

“To the right buyer, could be worth a few thousand septims,” Tar Meena replied, trying to ignore the fact that Serrio had suddenly acquired a wild grin and a slightly glazed look in his eyes. “But that's beside the point right now. There are four volumes, each one detailing the history of the Mythic Dawn and their beliefs. The first and second volumes are fairly common-we have a copy of the second in the library here in fact, but the third is extremely rare and I've yet to find a copy of the fourth volume.”

“Anyone I could talk to about finding them?” Serrio asked.

“You could try First Edition over in the Market District,” Tar Meena suggested. “Phintias, the shopkeeper there, is good at collecting rare books-I've got a few from him myself.”

“I'll get going immediately then,” Serrio said. He rubbed his hands together as he left, thinking about how much he could sell his newly acquired book for.

#

First Edition, like the Merchant's Inn, was one of the Imperial City's more upmarket establishments. While the sign outside the door, which had always been an indicator of how posh the shopkeeper was to Serrio, was in good shape, it didn't have the same look of meticulous care about it than the one outside the Merchant's Inn had. The shop itself was empty, apart from a middle aged dark elf, presumably Phintias, at the counter, and it had the air of quiet fussiness about it.

“Can I help you?” he asked, in a slightly sharp way.

“I was looking for a volume of the commentaries on the Mythic Dawn,” Serrio replied.

“Of course,” the elf replied. “Which volume was it you were looking for?”

“I'm trying to collect the whole set,” Serrio said. “And I was looking for the third volume-I was told you had a knack for finding rare books.”

Phintias frowned for a moment.

“I do have a copy,” he said. “But unfortunately it has been reserved for another customer already.”

“That is a problem,” Serrio said. “But is there a chance that perhaps we could come to an agreement?”

“I can see that you do wish to get a copy of the book,” Phintias replied. “But I'm afraid that if I backed out of this agreement it would be extremely damaging for my reputation.”

“Are you entirely sure?” Serrio asked, pulling out his copy of the first volume. “I've been told that this is one of the very first editions of the Commentaries, and is extremely valuable.”

Phintias took the book and examined it with the critical eye of an expert.

“Whoever told you that was right,” he said eventually. “This is worth an awful lot.”

“Then perhaps we can arrange a trade?” Serrio asked. “I give you this extremely valuable book in exchange for an extremely rare one.”

“I thought you were trying to get the entire set though?” Phintias suddenly asked.

“The first volume is common enough,” Serrio replied, thinking on his feet. “I'm sure I can find another one without too much trouble. But right here, and right now, with Volume Three so close, I'm willing to exchange this for one.”

Phintias looked thoughtful for a moment, but then shook his head.

“I'm afraid I can't,” he said. “But if you wish to speak to Gwinas-he's the young man buying the book-then he'll be coming in just a minute. Perhaps you can negotiate something with him.”

Serrio elected to wait and browsed around the shop, taking a look at some of the books there, before finally just sitting down on one of the chairs in the room. Before long, a wood elf, his blonde hair styled in one of those ridiculous quiffs that seemed so popular amongst them, arrived.

“I'm here to collect the third volume of the Commentaries,” he said politely to Phintias, after the initial pleasantries had been exchanged.

“Of course,” Phitias said, reaching behind him on the shelf to pass the wood elf a book. The wood elf handed over a bag of gold, and then left after Phintias wished him a nice day.

Serrio got up from seat, and followed him for a short while, before deciding to just talk to him and persuade him to hand the book over.

“What do you want?” the elf asked warily.

“I was interested in the book you got in First Edition,” Serrio said. “I've been looking for a copy myself for quite some time and...”

“Well you can't have it,” the wood elf snapped rather petulantly. “You people all think you can bully me, well you know what? You can't!”

“Calm down, calm down,” Serrio said. “I'm not here to bully you. I'm here to try and get a bloody book.”

“Well you can't have it,” the bosmer said. “You won't stop me joining the Mythic Dawn!”

“They killed the Emperor, you little pillock!” Serrio, who had had enough of the wood elf's childishness, suddenly snapped.

The elf looked aghast, and took a step back.

“Is that true?” he asked.

“It's true,” Serrio said, nodding. “And they were responsible for what happened at Kvatch.”

The elf pulled the book and a piece of parchment out of his pocket and stuffed them into Serrio's hand.

“Take it,” he said. “I want nothing more to do with them, ever again. And the note was from someone who called himself my sponsor-he told me to meet him to get the fourth book.”

“Um, thank you,” Serrio said, as the wood elf hurried off. He read the note in hands, and decided it was time to report to Baurus.

Part 25-Mythic Dawn

Baurus was waiting for him back at the Merchant's Inn. Judging by the wary looks the innkeeper was giving him, he knew about the dead body in his cellar, and was also aware that Baurus was a member of the Blades.

“Any luck?” he asked Serrio as he sat down next to him.

“Yep,” Serrio replied. “I got the third book, and take a look at this.”

He handed Baurus the note, who read it over a few times.

“The Elven Garden district's sewers huh?” he asked. “I know just the place it says. And the meeting's soon. We'd best get going if we want to get there on time.”

They hurried through the city as it began to get dark, round the back of a house and to a sewer grate. Baurus lifted it up, trying to ignore the smell, and hurried down the ladder, closely followed by Serrio.

The trip through the sewers was fairly uneventful, only punctuated by a run in with some goblins and a mudcrab. By the time they had arrived at a door that marked their meeting place, both of them were still hot, sweaty and tired-they had trapped heat of fermenting sewage to thank for that.

“This is it,” Baurus said, wiping a film of sweat from his brow. “I've always wondered what the table in here was for.”

“So what's the plan?” Serrio asked.

“I'll head in there to try and get the book,” Baurus replied. “There's to the left door at the top, which leads to a walkway above the room. Get up there and watch the meeting, and stay as backup. If things go wrong, we'll just have to kill this sponsor and take the book.”

“Better than nothing,” Serrio said. “Good luck.”

Serrio headed through the door and up the stairs, lurking in the shadows of the stairwell. Below him, Baurus entered and sat at the table.

From a side door, an altmer, tall and contemptuous, walked in, and gave Baurus a sneering look.

“You will remain silent,” the elf said. “I will explain what it means to join our organisation and then you will tell me if you still wish to join it. Do you understand?”

Baurus nodded obediently.

“Good,” the elf said. He began to drone on about Mehrunes Dagon or some rubbish like that, and Serrio stopped listening as he saw a pair of guards, wearing that strange armour all the Mythic Dawn wore, walk onto the walkway. Serrio shrank into the shadows, reaching towards his sword and dagger.

One of the guards noticed something in the shadows, and drawing his weapon, began to stalk towards Serrio. Baurus pretended not to notice, but let his hand rest on the hilt of his Katana.

The guard reached Serrio's position, but before he could react, Serrio lunged forward, sword and dagger drawn, and plunged them into the man's chest, sending him keeling back, choking on his own blood.

“I told you to come alone!” the outraged elf yelled, but he was stopped speaking by Baurus kicking the table and sending it flying into him. The redguard sprang to his feet to dodge the blast of lightning the prone elf sent at him, then charged, slashing his katana across the altmer's chest.

The second guard had charged forwards into Serrio, and for a minute they duelled, mace against sword, before Serrio smashed the pommel of his sword into the side of his enemy's head and causing him to topple off the bridge. He landed with a painful crunch, his neck at an unnatural angle.

“You alright?” Serrio asked Baurus as he wiped his sword clean of blood.

“I'm fine,” Baurus replied. He slipped his hand into the pockets of the elf's robe, and triumphantly pulled out a slim red book. “Commentaries on the Mythic Dawn, Volume Four,” he announced. “We've got it.”

He handed it over to Serrio.

“Get it back to Tar Meena at the university,” he said. “She'll be pleased to see this.

#

“Tar Meena?” Serrio called out quietly as he entered.

“Ah, Serrio,” Tar Meena said as she saw him. She at a desk in the corner, and the first two volumes of the Commentaries open, and was reading through them. “Did you have any luck getting the third volume?”

“I got three and four!” Serrio announced triumphantly. Tar Meena raised the horny ridges she had instead of eyebrows in surprise.

“You got the fourth volume?” she asked. “Let me see.”

Serrio handed over the slim books, which Tar Meena flicked through with an air of scholarly excitement.

“Give me a few days to study the books and I ought to have found out more about the Mythic Dawn,” she said, snout already buried in the third volume. “I think they have a code in them about where they are, as a kind of test for those wanting to join. If I'm right, then I ought to be able to point you in the direction of their headquarters.”

Serrio nodded and left her to her work, and off went to get a celebratory drink.

#

A few days later, and Serrio was back at the Arcane University again, look for Tar Meena. He found her at the same desk, looking tired but triumphant.

“I cracked the code,” she announced proudly as Serrio approached. “It was simple really-all the first letters of each paragraph added up to say 'Green Emperor Way, where tower touches midday sun.' I worked it out-it's at midday, by the tomb of Prince Camaril.”

“How clever,” Serrio murmured, before suddenly realising something. “It's midday now! I'd best go.”

He dashed out of the building with a yell of “Thanks again!” and to the Green Emperor's Way.

His mad sprint bought him to Green Emperor's Way just in time. He looked for the grave and quickly found it-a large mausoleum with Prince Camarail inscribed in large letters on it.

He walked around it a few times, but couldn't find anything on it that could indicate the location of a Mythic Dawn base. Then, when the sun reached its zenith, glowing red lines formed on one side of the tomb, away from the main path that most people would take. The lines formed a map of the eastern half of Cyrodiil. A large outline of a town formed, with golden letters proclaiming it as Cheyindal, while to the north a dot formed, marked out as Lake Arrius Caverns.

So that was the place he needed to go, Serrio mused. Well, Alicarius had sent him to find the cultists. Now he had done so, Alicarius could damn well clear them out of there himself. And good luck to him.

Very nice Colonel! I like the way this story is heading....you're talented, you really are!

Part 26-War

Two days later

Serrio pushed the, curiously unmanned, gates of Chorrol open, to find the main street deserted, except for a pigeon industriously pecking at the remnants of a loaf of bread. His forehead creased in a frown of concern, he headed towards the castle, then stopped as he heard the sound of cheering and yelling coming from the north of the castle.

He hurried over to see what was going on, to be greeted by the most bizarre sight imaginable.

Two towers, fairly ramshackle affairs built of planks, had been constructed on the town's common area, and what seemed to be the entire garrison was fighting over them. Half of them seemed to be wearing blue sashes, the other wearing red ones, and they met in the middle, shields locked together in a wall. Both of them were shoving against eachother, the men's weapon's lashing out over the top. Around them, the rest of Chorrol's citizens were gathered, cheering them on. One particularly enterprising Nord had even set up a stall to take bets.

For a moment, it seemed that the stalemate would last for a long while, before a trio of men from the red group pushed round from the side, knocking their opponents aside before the entire blue wall crumbled as the men fell back, gaining a cheer from the crowd. Forced back, the blue team retreated to the base of their tower, shields raised.

The red team surrounded them, pushing them back to the base of the blue's tower, before they withdrew up the ladder, refusing to give ground. A group of five men bravely elected to stay at the base of the ladder to allow their comrades to get away. They held the attackers back long enough for them to get up the ladder, before they were overwhelmed and pushed out.

“Alright, enough!” Alicarius yelled, holding up his hands, causing the legionnaires to halt. There were some cheers and groans from the crowd as they collected or parted with bets.

“Good work, everyone,” Alicarius said, as the legionnaires around the tower dispersed to grab a drink. “Well done to Orras' men.”

The five men who had held the base of the tower gave a cheer.

“What's this all about?” Serrio asked, as he hurried over to Alicarius.

“Serrio,” Alicarius said, smiling. “You arrived sooner that I thought.”

“I mightn't have arrived at all,” Serrio said accusingly. “Those cultists are a nasty bunch, and no mistake. But you haven't said what this is supposed to be doing.”

“Training,” Alicarius said. “For large scale combat-they've gotten used to fighting just bandits. I need them fighting well trained soldiers, so why not legionnaires?”

“Why though?” Serrio asked.

“Read this,” Alicarius said, handing Serrio a copy of the Black Horse Courier.

Skyrim invades Morrowind! the headline exclaimed.

“Ah,” Serrio said slowly. “This doesn't look good, does it? What happened?”

Alicarius nodded.

“They attacked from Rifton,” Alicarius said. “They crossed the Skyrim mountains in a few days and have already taken Blacklight.”

“So you're worried about an attack on Chorrol?” Serrio asked.

“After Bruma, Chorrol's the closest to Skryim, and I don't think Jsashe is going to stop there,” Alicarius said. He had heard a few things about the witch that ruled the town of Rifton, and non of them were good-she was ruthless, cruel and cunning, and a very dangerous foe indeed.

“Bruma's been taken?” Serrio asked.

“Taken? Pah!” Alicarius spat, causing the grass his saliva hit to bubble and hiss. “The countess just handed over the city as quick as you like. Filthy traitor.”

“So what are we going to do now?” Serrio asked.

“Jsashe isn't going to stop until she has the entirety of Cyrodiil in her hands,” Alicarius said. “She conquered Skyrim while we were distracted by the Emperor's assassination, and now Ocato's gone she's taken Bruma. She's proclaimed herself prophetess of Lorkhan and has the entire nation behind her. It's as I feared-Tamriel's already falling apart.”

“What about Cloud Ruler Temple?” Serrio asked suddenly.

“I received word from Jauffre,” Alicarius said. “They negotiated a truce with the Skyrim forces. Still, if the army want to take it then it's their funeral. I've seen that place, and believe me, it's impenetrable.”

“What are we going to do though?” Serrio asked.

“Us?” Alicarius asked. “We're going to war.”

#

Chorrol's army was on the move. From fresh faced recruits to grizzled veterans, soldiers marched from the city's gates, a full three hundred of them. Only a skeleton guard was left behind, the town's garrison otherwise leaving in it's entirety.

The odds were stacked against them, and badly so. The Nord army numbered in the thousands, the entire nation's soldiery fighting on the two fronts of Morrowind and Northern Cyrodiil. And Skyrim's soldiery was practically the entire nation. There seemed no way that a few hundred soldiers from Chorrol could hope to halt the rampaging monster that was the Nord war machine.

But Alicarius had a plan, and even though he said so himself, a damn good one at that.

He did not lead the column, leaving that to Serrio, but instead occupied himself in supervising the wagons that were following it, particularly the covered carts. He needed them intact.

For the past week, booms and blasts had echoed around Chorrol as Alicarius tested his new devices and trained the soldiers in their usage. With luck, they would turn the tide of battle, and could well revolutionise the way wars were fought throughout Nirn.

Karros came up next to him, saluting.

“Everything is in order sir,” he said. “Their packed away safely-I saw to it myself.”

“Good,” Alicarius said. Karros turned to leave, before Alicarius stopped him with a question. “Karros, what do you think of these?”

“With all due respect, I don't like them sir,” the veteran replied. “They're noisy, they're heavy and they hurt like hell if you hold them wrong and fire. Give me a bow any day.”

“True,” Alicarius said. “But think of the damage they'll cause. Believe me, the Nord army will crumple when they see this.”

“And if they don't?” Karros asked. “What about a plan b?”

“I'll be the plan b,” Alicarius said.

“There are thousands of them,” Karros said. “Even you can't...”

Alicarius raised his hand.

“I killed a deadrahost with no armour and only my halberd,” he said. “I don't mean to boast, but I'm fairly sure I can handle some nords.”

“Thousands of them though?” Karros asked. “No offense sir, but you must be mad to think you can.”

Alicarius shrugged.

“If that's the case, then I'll just have to be a little mad,” he said.

Well this is very interesting, a war with the nords eh?

I hope Alicarius has packed his power armoured scarf and hat then. I assume this is goign to tie in witht he main plot as well? Something tells me this is going to be quite epic .

Damn, the one thing you forget!

Thanks for commenting Illydoor. As for tying in with the main plot, well it does in a fair few ways. And there's a cool battle too. Yay!

And the next part. Even if I say so myself, it's damn good.

Part 27-Blood and ice

The army marched for a week. Normally Alicarius could have made the journey over a few days, but they had to stick to the longer route on the roads and moving large numbers of people quickly was never going to be easy.

He had chosen their battleground, making it clear to the Nord army that they intended to challenge them. It was a a hill, a few miles south of Bruma and on a hill leading down to a valley, forcing the army of Nord warriors to fight uphill, and on a snow covered, icy slope to boot.

Alicarius had already sent a detachment of foresters, led by Karros, around the wooded edges of the valley to halt any flanking forces, and should the opportunity arise, to do a little flanking themselves.

The army had to wait only two days for the Nord force, responding to the threat after celebrating their annexation of Bruma, made it's way towards them. Alicarius had had the men stay in positions through the entire time they were there, ready to get to position quickly should the Nord army arrive.

There were one hell of a lot of them, Alicarius considered as he saw the thousand strong host of Jsashe, Prophetess of Lorkhan. He could see the woman at the forefront of the army with the aid of his helmet's lenses. She stood on a bone white chariot, drawn by a pair of ice white horses. A shock of graying red hair flowed down her back, and Alicarius could see the enchantments glittering on her spear even from his position on the other side of the valley.

So this was the witch that was causing Cyroddil so much trouble, Alicarius thought. He could take her.

He stepped forwards from the assembled ranks of Chorrol's army, and turned to face them.

“Men!” he called. “Today is history. Today is the day that we, but three hundred men, stand against a horde intent on the destruction of our land. They wish to enslave our wives and our children, to squash the world under their heel and rule it. And I say that they shall not! Some of you may think that by being here, by fighting under the banner of Chorrol, you are betraying you home nation. I tell you now, that you are not. It does not matter whether you are man, mer, orc or beast man. You are soldiers, and all soldiers are one people, no matter who they fight for and where they come from. We are the men of Chorrol, and we will be victorious!”

He raised his halberd in the air, inciting a roar from Chorrol's lines.

“All I ask of you is that you hold the line,” Alicarius said. Whatever happens, we will hold the line. We have with us weapons of unparalleled power, and with them, we will hold the line. With them, we will have victory. With them, we will show all potential tyrants and oppressors that we will not stand idle while they live. The Empire will rise again, and it will bring with it an age of peace and prosperity. We are needed here today to bring this age with us. Now, FIRE!”

He dropped to the ground as the soldiers behind him raised their weapons.

They were, to but simply, muskets, but designed from the top down, as opposed to the bottom up. The projectile, a bullet shaped lump of solid lead, was loaded into a simple chamber within the gun. Instead of gunpowder, pulling the trigger sparked a localised blast of channelled magical fire within the chamber, stopping the fatal misfires that plagued the gunpowder models and sending the bullet on its way far faster. And as there was no shell being ejected, the chance of a misfire was drastically reduced. With training, a soldier could fire off two bullets within five seconds of eachother.

A wall of white hot lead flew over Alicairus, smashing into the Nord lines, and even, Alicarius noted with some satisfaction, damaging Jsashe's chariot. She hadn't finished her speech, and though some unwritten law of warfare dictated that both leaders had to, Alicarius hadn't become a captain of the Grey Knights by playing fair-after all, daemons never did.

Dozens of men fell, screaming as the bullets pulped their innards and sprayed gouts of blood into the air. Jsashe, most likely protected by magical shields, scrambled to her feet and began to yell furious orders to her captains. Within moments, the Nords began to charge.

Another volley blasted from the Imperial lines, then another, more and more men falling, but the Nords kept advancing. It was their infamous battle rage, one that had turned the tide of battle in their favour many, many times. His initial plan of breaking the Nord army through using the muskets had failed. But like any genius, Alicarius had a plan b.

He grabbed something from his belt, a long, thin tube, and pulled the string at the end free. The fire spell contained within blasted itself free in a phosphorous white glare, rising like a second sun.

That was Karros' signal.

As one, soldiers wearing lightly armoured leather suits, coated in greenery, rose from the bushes and let forth a volley of fire from their own muskets. But behind them, a massive trebuchet was pulled up, it's premade parts slotting together perfectly. Within a moment, it was primed to fire.

It did so, sending a massive payload of kegs, each filled with explosive chemicals, into the Nords. The blast was powerful enough to completely immolate anything at its centre, sending body parts and screaming, burning men flying for more than a hundred metres in any direction.

Another booming volley was fired from the Imperial lines as the trebuchet was primed to fire again, and Alicarius gave his orders.

“SHIELD WALL! NOW!”

The men did so, Alicarius getting his own one, a massive thing easily two metres in diameter, up and locking it next the man next to him. He raised his halberd over the top as the other men beside him drew their swords. The rank behind them raised their own muskets up bayonets fixed, forming an impenetrable wall of steel.

The Nord forces reached the bottom of the valley, the frontrunners lucky enough to still be alive already beginning to scramble up the hill on the Imperial side.

“WEDGE, ADVANCE!” Alicarius roared.

With him at it's head, the shield was began to advance, the edges tailing to form the brutally effective wedge shape. It advanced slowly, down the hill, building up a rumbling momentum as it reached the Nord lines.

It went through them like Alicarius's halberd would go through butter. Every soldier fought with mechanical precision, perfectly drilled in a tactic that rarely failed. If one of the Chorrol soldiers was killed, his comrade would abandon his musket, take his own sword and shield and plug the gap. Meanwhile, the trebuchet sent load after load of explosives into the Nord ranks, the explosions causing more damage.

Already, the Skryim army was beginning to break, men running in fear rather than face the relentless advance of the wedge. The few desertions soon turned into a full blown retreat, men running to the top of the hill, but staying there.

It wasn't a retreat, Alicarius realised with shock. It was a withdrawl. But why? What could they possibly gain by falling back, except for the high ground. And charging a wedge was suicide.

A chant came up from the Nord lines, men roaring the same word over and over.

“Grund! Grund! Grund! Grund!”

And from the centre of the Nord lines, a massive humanoid shape rose up, released from chains that jangled against its monstrous from, one that dwarfed even the largest trees around them. An arm coated in massive muscles held a club that was simply a tree trunk that been ripped from the ground and stripped of it's branches. With a shock, Alicarius realised what Grund was.

A giant.

Nice post! Not sure about the muskets though, I still like the clash of steel against steel better .

I especially like the description of Jsashe and her chariot, and also the bit about the shield wedge. I could just imagine the colossal battle, and the fact that I've just watched 300 again recently made the image you painted even more vivid and impressive in my mind.

Keep it up man, there are just a few niggly little bits you could polish up a bit, but they're only small typos here and there that can easily be solved with a quick proofread.

Awaiting the next part! Grund! Grund! Grund!

Well the muskets were a bit of a sticking point for me too at first, but the more I thought about it the more it seemed to make sense. Alicarius would have to know about primitive weapons like muskets in case he ever fought on a feudal world, and if you take gunpowder out of the equation guns become so much more...streamlined.

Plus I like the idea of a legionairre with a flintlock style pistol and a sword.

And the next part. Blimey, I'm running out of pre-written parts...

Part 28-Grund

The giant stepped through the Nord lines, each footstep thundering upon the ground, not caring whether or not it stepped on any soldiers. With two massive strides, it reached their front.

“FALL BACK!” Alicarius roared. “FALL BACK NOW!”

The trebuchet sent another load of explosives into the monster, and as the soldiers of Chorrol and the Legion fled back up the hill, leaving only Alicarius behind, the giant's torso exploded in a waft of flame. The air began to stink of burning hair and chemicals, Grund flailing uselessly against the fire. He dropped, and for a moment Alicarius hoped that the monster had been killed by the siege weapon, but the giant rolled, his mass extinguishing the inferno.

Grund rose, ruddy skin scorched black and a murderous expression upon his face. He wrenched a rock from the ground and hurled it at the trebuchet, the siege weapon exploding in a shower of shattered beams and splinters. The men manning it fled to join their comrades up at the top of the hill, not wanting to risk the wrath of Grund. Only Alicarius remained, weapon at the ready, poised to fight.

Grund grabbed his massive club from where it had fallen, and with a single gargantuan swing, smashed it into the spot where Alicarius was. With agility that was surprising for someone of his size, the Grey Knight had already leapt aside and rolled. Grund's massive strength proved to be to his disadvantage, and Alicarius charged forwards and scored a deep cut in Grund's arm. The giant roared in pain and smashed Alicarius aside with a hand the size of a small car.

Wrenching his club out of the ground, Grund took another clumsy swing at Alicarius, but he had already scrambled to his feet and dodged away. Realising that his plan of simply crushing the space marine into the ground wasn't working, Grund instead took a long swing at Alicarius, his club parallel to the ground.

Alicarius realised he couldn't dodge in time, and opted for another plan. He stood firm, locking the leg joints of his armour and placed his halberd out before him.

The club slammed into the weapon with enough force to topple a building, and the impact drove Alicarius back several paces, his boots digging deep furrows into the ground. Warning runes flashed up on the HUD of his helmet but he ignored them-he had more pressing concerns.

Grund stumbled from the sudden change in momentum, dropping his club and almost toppling over. Alicarius wrenched his halberd free, unlocking the armour in his legs and charged at the giant, slamming his weapon into Grund's shin. The massive creature roared in pain and fell to one knee, the impact causing the ground to shake. Alicarius' momentum carried him through the monster's legs, forcing him to abandon his halberd, and straight into one of Grund's flailing hands.

The impact knocked the breath out of him, and Alicarius was stunned by it, head swimming as he was lifted up to go face to face with Grund. The giant roared at the space marine in his hand, the noise deafening even with the protection offered to him by his helmet. Grund began to squeeze, and Alicarius groaned in pain as he felt a rib break with a sickening crack. His armour began to pump painkillers into his system, the afflicted area already going numb, but Alicarius was less concerned with that and more preoccupied by his heart and lungs-the damage done to him by Ocato wasn't fully healed, and the strain of the giant's assault could be too much for his twin hearts.

The giant loosened his grip and squeezed again, gurgling in the simple joy of inflicting pain of something smaller and weaker than itself, before Alicarius marshalled his psychic powers and blasted them towards Grund.

They would have had little effect on something that could withstand a direct hit from the trebuchet's explosives, but Alicarius wasn't aiming to hurt Grund. A flash of blinding white light sprang from Alicarius' body, and Grund instinctively dropped him to shield his eyes. He landed with a painful crunch, but immediately scrambled to his feet. Grund, still dazzled by the sudden burst of psychic light from Alicarius, stumbled around blindly, unable to see where Alicarius was.

He immediately took his opportunity and tore his halberd free from the giant's ankles, sending blood and viscera spraying in all directions. He span and mercilessly hacked at the giant's good ankle, slicing through the flesh and bone with three blows. Grund gave a wordless scream of agony and fell, clutching at the stump of his ankle and causing the Nord army to groan in despair.

Alicarius immediately sprinted to giant's head, raised his halberd and slammed it down. In one slice, he severed the monstrous creature's head from its shoulders, and rolled it to face the Nord lines.

“Grund is defeated!” he roared to them.

He saw Jsashe, standing on her chariot and looking thunderous, roar out an order. From his position, Alicarius thought it sounded worryingly similar to 'Kill him!'

With a bloodthirsty roar, what was left of the Nord army thundered forwards.

“Well,” Alicarius murmured to himself as he readied his halberd. “I can't deny the claim that I fought an army any more.”

The nord army hit him like a tidal wave striking a rock. But Alicarius was no mere rock.

As soon as the Nord hit, Alicarius swung his halberd round in a wide arc, the weapon smashing through the soldiers, sending blood and limbs flying. He allowed his momentum to carry him in a full circle, carving a bloody path through the Nord army. Taking his halberd in both hands and whirling it like around him like a dynamo, Alicarius advanced forwards, the weapon crackling with electrical power, boiling the blood that coated it.

A man leapt on his back, pummelling at his power-pack with his mace, but Alicarius wrenched him off, sending him flying away. But more and more soldiers piled onto him, their numbers threatening to overwhelm the giant warrior. Within moments, Alicarius was weighed down beneath a mass of Nord soldiers, attacking mercilessly with axe, mace, sword and spear.

Alicarius suddenly exploded out of the pile like an erupting volcano, sending men flying away. He swung his halberd in an arc, smashing men away with the sheer force of his blows. He roared a litany of hatred, smashing his weapon into a mass of men, shearing through their ranks.

He gasped as he felt a sudden tight pain in his chest, a pain he had been dreading. The damage done to his internal organs after his fight with Ocato was still a problem, one that was now proving deadly. He stumbled, still swinging his weapon wildly, trying to keep the Nord soldiers back. Then he fell to his knees, gasping for air beneath his helmet. The Nords hung back, no doubt still nervous after he had slaughtered so many of their comrades.

Gasping for air, Alicarius wrenched off his helmet and spat a gobbet of blood. He heard the sound wheels approach and saw the feet of one of the bears pulling Jsashe's chariot. She dismounted from the vehicle and Alicarius, trying to ignore the feeling that one of his hearts might burst from the strain, raised his head to make eye contact.

“So, the mighty Grey Knight is laid low,” Jsashe said. She was gloating, over him all of all people. “I never thought I'd see the day.”

Alicarius struggled to his feet. He found the idea of being killed by this witch, while on his knees after a seizure, somewhat demeaning. He snarled at her weakly.

“Still defiant?” Jsashe asked. “We'll see.”

She sent her spear jabbing towards his throat, a blow aiming to kill him.

Alicarius caught it.

A contorted, pained, demented, predatory grin was on his features as he held the tip of the weapon in his fist, the iron point inches from his throat. With a flick of his wrist, he snapped it, the wood splintering. Still baring his teeth, grimacing in pain like a trapped and wounded animal, Alicarius spat.

His saliva, mixed with blood, hit Jsashe's eyes, hit home, and she dropped her spear and collapsed, screaming and clawing at her eyes in pain. After a moment, it overrode her nervous system and she fell unconscious. Alicarius picked her and his helmet up in one hand, his halberd in the other.

He advanced toward the Imperial lines, the soldiers parting before him. As he carried Jsashe with him, he spoke.

“Men of Skyrim!” he said. “Your leader is defeated, and you giant dead. You have been defeated. You have fought honourably and with courage, I cannot fault you for that. But today has already proved that your steel cannot bring down this warrior.”

That was a lie-the way his heart was holding out, if one soldier plucked up the courage to attack him and rescue his leader, the rest would follow and he would be finished. None of them did, however. They just watched him warily.

“I would bet good money on many of you not being professional soldiers,” Alicarius continued-after all, how else could Jsashe raise such a huge army without conscripting from Skryim's people? “And I would guess that many of you simply want to return to your shops and your farms, and to your wives and children.”

He reached the edge of the Nord lines, climbed a little further up the hill of the valley before turning to face them.

“I shall not stop you doing so,” he said. “You are brave soldiers, and I am willing to do the honourable thing and allow you disperse and return to your homes. If you leave quietly, surrender Bruma and restore Skyrim's old borders then there shall be no retribution against you soldiers. But if I hear any news of farms being looted, of people being assaulted as you leave, then believe me, there will be a reckoning! Now leave. Take your wounded and return to your homes.”

As Alicarius went up the hill to the Imperial ranks, he was greeted with an awed silence.

“Serrio,” he called.

His ever-reliable captain hurried out of the ranks, musket slung over one shoulder.

“Yes sir?” he asked.

“Get some details organised to collect our wounded,” Alicarius said. He could see a few captains down in the Nord army doing the same. “And give me your knife a moment.”

Serrio took a knife from the back of his boot and handed it to Alicarius.

“What are you doing sir?” he asked, as Alicarius lifted Jsashe's dress up, exposing the back of her legs.

“Crippling her,” Alicarius replied.

“Why?” Serrio asked. “Why not just kill her?”

“It's easy to rally around a martyr,” Alicarius said. With two neat cuts, he severed the hamstring tendons behind Jsashe's knees, letting the legs flop loosely. “It's not so easy to rally around a blind cripple.”

Serrio looked slightly pale as Alicarius handed back the knife. He was a soldier, used to bloodshed and death, but he obviously found the callous brutality of what he had witnessed somewhat shocking.

“Now,” Alicarius said. “Are you just going to stand there? We've got wounded to collect.”

Cool post, that battle certainly was an epic one, and Grund with hands the size of cars! Really how big is that Giant, I thought he was your run of the mill ogre-sized monster, unless he has really big hands and a disproportionately small body .

But anyway, only one crit I would have for this post is that Alicarius defeated Jsashe a bit too easily for me, I mean she must be leader of the Nord army for a reason, and with her chariot and her enchanted spear I would of thought she would have at least put up a bit more of a fight.

You could have a short duel with Alicarius and Jsashe before he spits in her eyes, but anyway that's just my personal opinion.

Illy, do the maths.

Grey Knight vs oldish lady.

The space marine is going to, for want of a better word, pwn her in a matter of seconds.

And most peoqle become leaders of armies by being really ruthless. Jsashe was one of them and Alicarius did take her by surprise.

And now I've run out of pre-written parts. Eek!

Part 29-Nest of Vipers

Skyrim's army, defeated and battered, returned home quietly, escorted all the time by Chorrol's troops. The tension between the armies was palpable, but fortunately nothing happened by the time Skyrim's forces had reached their nation's borders. The army dispersed when they reached the borders, Nord soldiers taking the many different roads to their homes in the cities and towns.

Bruma was handed over without any problems. Alicarius personally thought the countess should have been executed for her treason and cowardly surrender of the city, but that was a matter beyond his control.

“That went cleanly,” Serrio said as the Nord soldiers crossed the border. “Lucky, really.”

Alicarius nodded.

“Could have been a lot worse,” Alicarius said. “All it really needed was one idiot and we would have been fighting again.”

“Still, with the muskets we would've made a mess of them,” Serrio pointed out.

“True, but I suppose no bloodshed at all is better,” Alicarius said. “Serrio, do you think you would be able to get the men back to Chorrol for me?”

“Yeah, sure I could,” Serrio said. “Why'd you ask?”

“Didn't you say that that Mythic Dawn place was near here?” Alicarius asked.

“That's true,” Serrio said. “Due east, I'd imagine.”

Alicarius turned to leave.

“Where're you going?” Serrio asked after him.

“To dispense the Emperor's law,” Alicarius replied.

#

The journey through the Jerall Mountains was a long, but pleasantly uneventful one. A system of roads had never been constructed through the mountains, and several times Alicarius had to backtrack and change his route to avoid getting lost. He ran into a tribe of ogres along the way, and used their supplies to stock up his own ones. He didn't touch the meat, however. There was no knowing where that had come from.

But after two days of travel, he reached his destination. The heretic's hideout was a cave, above Lake Arrius. The view was a stunning one, a waterfall cascading down into the river below the lake, and the town of Cheyindal and the rest of the Niben Basin stretching below him in a panoramic view. Shading his eyes against the sun, Alicarius could just make out the needle-like shape of White Gold Tower. It was a view worthy of awards.

The way into the Mythic Dawn's caverns was simply a slightly decrepit wooden door. Beyond it, the heretic's home awaited.

Danyil, the gatekeeper for the Mythic Dawn, had been having a bad day. For a start, that maniac, Erna Rahnis, had decided to visit them. The dark elf had, as he always did, made a nuisance of himself, and by the time he had disappeared the master had been most displeased. Danyil hadn't even seen the elf leave, and he had a nagging feeling that he was still around somewhere.

But what happened next was more than enough to eclipse his other troubles.

The door burst open, and in came the giant. The silver armoured behemoth grabbed Daynil by the throat in a grip like iron, and the cold, soulless visage of the giant's silver helmet.

“Do you repent?” the giant asked, his voice blaring through the helmet's speakers. “Do you renounce Mehrunes Dagon?”

Daynil gasped, struggling and kicking against the remorseless grip around his throat. Suddenly it was loosened and the wood elf was dropped on the ground. Desperately, he tried to scramble away, but it was no good; a massive boot had him pinned to the ground.

“What do you say?” the giant quizzed.

“Yes!” Daynil choked, his throat already beginning to bruise from the giant's grip. “I repent. Let me live, please.”

Alicarius stamped down, crushing the heretic's chest.

“The Emperor shall decide whether you shall live, by his side on the Golden Throne,” Alicarius said. “Not me.”

He carried on down into the darkness of the caverns, his halberd lighting the way with a crackling corona of electrical energy. A guard saw him, and with a scream of; “BLOOD FOR DAGON!” summoned a suit of armour and a weapon and rushed at Alicarius. For all his beserk fury, the fight lasted less than a second.

“Burn the heretic,” Alicarius murmured, the ancient catechism of hatred familiar to his lips. “Purge the xeno. Abhor the unclean.”

He came into a larger cavern, illuminated by guttering torches. Blasphemous runes were carved upon the walls, the skull rune of Khorne hacked into the stone by the zealous strokes of one of the cultists. An entrance to the deeper caves was blocked off by an iron gate, but Alicarius simply ripped the bars free and went through into the darkness.

The next cave obviously the central one, a huge cavern with a roof that towered several metres above the cavern. In the centre of the cavern, a stone altar had been hacked out of the rock, and a large archway that pulsed with warp energy was placed in the centre. Within it, Alicarius could see a vista of perfect beauty, a sun setting on a lush green landscape, completely at odds with the usual hellish realms of the warp. But what dominated his interest more was the elf dressed in ornate red robes standing atop the altar, and the amulet clasped in his hands. There were myriad other cultists assembled within the room, chanting praise to Mehrunes Dagon. Alicarius hoped this was not a summoning and simply another service-the last thing he wanted was a fight with a powerful daedra.

As soon as the elf saw Alicarius, he clutched the amulet close to him and shouted; “Kill him!”

He fled through the warp portal (for what else could it be?), the doorway into unreality sealing itself behind him. The rest of the cultists drew various weapons, willing to sacrifice their lives in a futile effort to kill Alicarius.

But Alicarius knew that it was his duty to convince these cultists the error of their ways and grant them absolution. For the heretic could still redeem themselves in the fires of redemption and sacrifice, and stand a chance at the Emperor's mercy.

With a wave of his hand, he extinguished the torches in the cavern, plunging it into darkness. He immediately activated the darksun filters of his helmet and the cave became illuminated in harsh tones of black and white, showing the members of the cult suddenly stumbling over themselves in the sudden darkness.

“Burn the heretic,” Alicarius said, loud enough for the men and women present to hear him. “Purge the xeno. Abhor the unclean. That is the creed of my people.”

He slipped past a stumbling cultist, before grabbing the man and sending him sprawling on the floor, leaving him to scream as his arm snapped under the impact of the blow.

“You are heretics,” Alicarius said, his voice still calm and flat. “Therefore you must be burned. Burn the heretic. That is the creed of my people.”

For a moment, he could have sworn he heard somebody muttering 'burnburnburnburn.'

“Can you expect mercy from me?” he asked. He smacked the flat of his halberd's blade against a stalagmite. “There can be no mercy from me. Mercy is a concept alien to me.”

By now, the cultists had stopped in their struggles and were huddled in the centre of the cave, at the edge of the altar.

“Yet there is still time for redemption,” he said. “Do you repent Mehrunes Dagon? Do you wish to redeem yourselves in the light of the Emperor, the true master of man?”

There was silence.

“Do you repent?” Alicarius asked again, his voice louder.

“I repent,” a terrified voice in the huddled mass of people said.

“I repent,” another said.

“Do you all repent?” Alicarius said.

“We repent!” the group said as one.

“Then embrace the light and warmth of the Emperor,” Alicarius said. He raised his hand towards the group and let white flames of psychic power burst forth. The cultists screamed and tried to escape, but it was too late-the burning phosphorescence of the flames burned their clothes and roasted them alive.

Only in death could the heretic gain redemption.

Alicarius relit the torches and looked on the altar to give him at least some kind of clue as to where the elf could have taken the amulet. The only thing he could find was a heavy, ancient looking book. Unholy symbols were written upon it's cover, ones that Alicarius guessed to be the unnatural scripture used by the daedra. He supposed that it could be useful to some extent, and picked it up.

As he was about to leave the cavern, he was stopped by the sound of slow clapping. He turned to see a man leaning against the wall on the other side of the cavern.

“My my,” the stranger said, sounding impressed. “What a mess you've made here.”

“Who are you?” Alicarius asked, raising his halberd.

“Call me Erna,” the man said. “Lovely to meet you.”

He walked towards the space marine, an erratic, zigzag walk that danced him across the floor like a mad waltzer.

He extended a hand.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he said.

Alicarius' halberd slammed into the man's chest and he wrenched it out in a spray of bubbling blood and viscera. The man called Erna toppled to the ground, dead.

Alicarius left.

And more. Because I thought I'd jump on the class war bandwagon

Part 30-Lord Commander

Alicarius returned to Cloud Ruler Temple with the heretic's book of sorcery tucked inside the bag he carried whenever he was on a journey. Initially it had only held supplies for the battle but there was enough space to stow the book in it.

Alicarius took almost the exact route he had taken last time, deviating only slightly. After two days of travelling, he reached the souther gates of Bruma. The city had been left intact from the nord invasion and as Alicarius travelled through it he noted many resentful glances were cast in his direction. Obviously the nords that made up Skyrim's population had supported Jsashe's invasion and blamed him for her defeat, but Alicarius had more pressing issues to worry about than a few angry nords.

The walk through the town was a short one, and Alicarius reached the imposing fortress of Cloud Ruler Temple in no short order. The gates swung open as soon as the sentries saw Alicarius coming, the massive iron hinges creaking gently under the weight of the huge doors.

Alicarius made his way up the stone steps (which he observed would be an excellent chokepoint for enemy forces) and into the fortress' main hall.

He hadn't seen the inside of Cloud Ruler Temple's massive hall, and stood for a moment in the doorway, quietly observing the layout of the pillared hall. Various wooden tables had peen pushed against the edges and at one of them was Martin, engrossed in various books.

“Martin!” Alicarius called across the hall. “I see you are well.”

The prospective Emperor glanced up from his books and called a greeting to Alicarius.

“Are you well?” Alicarius asked.

“I am fine,” Martin said. “But Jauffre worries like a mother hen sometimes.”

“You're valuable,” Alicarius replied. “If we lose you then we've lost the war.”

“I suppose,” Martin said. “But it is dull at times. All I have are these books and the Blades to keep me company. You can't talk with books and most of the soldiers here are too concerned with following conduct for a conversation.”

“It's dull, I know,” Alicarius said. “But as I said, it's necessary.”

“I know,” Martin said. “But I just feel like I'm not doing anything to help.”

“I do have something that you could put your mind to,” Alicarius said. He pulled the heavy grey book that he had taken from the cultist's cave and placed it on the table. “I found this at the cave. It may help us locate the amulet.”

“What, you didn't find it?” Martin asked.

“No,” Alicarius replied. “Their leader, Mankar Camoran, escaped through a portal with it before I could retrieve it.”

“Paradise?” Martin murmured.

“What?” Alicarius asked.

“Paradise,” Martin said. “It's a small part of Oblivion that Mankar Camoran uses as his own personal domain. We'd need to get there somehow if we wanted to recover the amulet. And that book may be the key.”

“Do you know if anybody could find out how?” Alicarius asked.

“I can translate it,” Martin said.

Alicarius gave a frown of displeasure at the thought of their only hope of victory against the daedra risking corruption by reading the lies contained in the book, but he knew that he would have to take the risk if he wanted to stop Mehrunes Dagon.

“Do your best,” Alicarius said.

“Oh, before you leave, we got this message from your second in command,” Martin said, holding up a small square of parchment.

It simply said;

Alicarius

Get back to Chorrol now.

Serrio

“I'd best be going then,” Alicarius said. “Send my regards to Jauffre, and tell him if he needs any help I'm ready to lend a hand.”

He needed to get back soon. The note, though only seven words long, seemed to radiate annoyance.

#

Alicarius trekked back to Chorrol as quickly as he could, stopping off at an inn on the way back and earning himself a free night's board for scaring a band of bandits off. He reached his city at around midday. The sun was shining in a cloudless sky and the city looked magnificent as it was bathed in the shine.

Alicarius headed through the gates and towards the castle, with a few of the citizens cheering the 'Hero of Kvatch' as he passed. When he reached the castle, the soldiers guarding its gates saluted him.

“You'd best head in, sir,” one of them said, his tone of voice suggesting that there was something extremely distasteful on the other side.

Alicarius headed through the courtyard of the castle, and into the barrack's main room, where Alicarius and his captains had, just two weeks ago, drawn up plans to counter Skyrim's invading force.

“I see that you have finally decided to grace us with your presence, commander,” a voice, filled with righteous, yet well disguised, upper class indignation said. Alicarius saw a man dressed in the silver armour of the Imperial Legion's highest ranking officers. With a start, he realised that the man's rank badge, a dragon above a golden crown, signified him as the lord commander of the Legion, Hentius Annit.

“My lord,” Alicarius said, saluting. This had to be bad news. “What brings you to my city?”

“You know very well, commander Justinian,” Hentius snapped.

“I am afraid I'm not sure, my lord,” Alicarius replied blithely. “There could be all number of things you wished to visit me about.”

“Skyrim, that's what the problem is,” Hentius fumed. “You took the entire damn garrison out of Chorrol without so much as a by your leave.”

“There's never been a problem with me taking troops out before,” Alicarius said, still calm.

“Bandits and ogres are one thing, commander Justinian, but three hundred men is quite another,” Hentius snapped. The man had become so red in the face that Alicarius was slightly worried that he would burst a blood vessel. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was acting against a threat to my city,” Alicarius said. “I didn't know there was a problem with doing so.”

“The solution to the Skyrim problem was still being debated by the Elder Council,” Hentius said. “It was a complex diplomatic situation.”

“Complex?” Alicarius asked. He let his even tone slip, a hint of derision slipping in. “What is so complex about it? A damn army had invaded Cyrodiilic territory, and I was doing my duty to the Empire and the Legion and protecting that. Perhaps you had forgotten the Legionnaire's Oath when you said that just now.”

There was a collective murmur of concern from the staff that had accompanied Hentius. Amongst the legion, that was one of the gravest insults a man could give. The Lord Commander bristled when he heard the insult, his moustache wobbling with righteous outrage.

“What are you suggesting?” he asked.

“I think you know very well,” Alicarius said, anger beginning to show itself in his voice. Suddenly cowed, Hentius stepped back. “You accuse me of not following my duties? Every word you have said since I have arrived has stunk of hypocrisy. You ask me if I have not done my duty, when you should be asking yourself that same question. You do not sit back and allow diplomats to negotiate bit of your country away, do you hear me? You do the courageous thing, you do the honourable thing, you do the Imperial thing and you take the fight to the enemy!”

By the end he was shouting. There was a stony silence.

“Hentius Annuit,” Alicarius said, lowering his voice but still allowing the threatening tone to just show. “With the authority invested in me by the Emperor of Tamriel, I charge you with cowardice and treason. You have disgraced the name of the Imperial Legion, and of the Empire. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Hentius simply spluttered with outrage at the sudden turn of events.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Alicarius growled again.

“I...you...you can't do this!” Hentius blustered.

“On the contrary,” Alicarius replied. “I think you'll find I can. Rule number seventeen of the Imperial Legion Doctrines states explicitly that a garrison commander may dismiss any member of the Imperial Legion who has been found wanting in the execution of his or her duties.”

“What?” Hentius asked. “He can't do this, tell him Varvur.”

The man he addressed, a dark elf, looked slightly startled by the sudden question.

“Actually, sir, he can,” he said. He flicked through a large book for a moment, before finding what seemed to be the right page. “In fact, it's almost word perfect. And there's nothing say that he couldn't dismiss somebody of higher rank.”

Hentius glowered at this.

“Very well then, Commander Justinian, I see I have no choice,” he said. “You are dismissed and stripped of all rank. You will take any personal belongings you have and leave this fortress by the time the sun has set.”

For a moment, Alicarius was silent, a thunderous expression on his face. Hentius gave him a smug, triumphant smile, self important pride shining on his expression.

“No,” Alicarius said flatly. “I shall not.”

“I am sorry, commander, but I believe I gave an order,” Hentius replied. “I am of senior rank, unless you have forgotten. My orders must be obeyed.”

“I am afraid that while my charges have been levelled your authority is compromised,” Alicarius replied. “Currently you're out of the chain of command, and so control of the Legion passes to your second in command.”

“Do you think those charges will stand?” Hentius asked. “How do you think I gained my rank, eh?”

“You gained your rank through scheming and family connections in a time of peace and comfort,” Alicarius said. “If it weren't for that then you wouldn't even be in the legion. The fact that you stood back and did nothing while an enemy army advanced on our territory will not favour your case. Of course, there is one way you could avoid those charges completely.”

“How?” Hentius asked carefully, grabbing at the supposed lifeline Alicarius had thrown him.

“An honourable duel,” Alicarius said. “If you beat me then I shall vacate my post and all charges against you shall be dropped. If I beat you then I take the post of Lord Commander of the Imperial Legion.”

Now Alicarius had suggested it, Hentius had been forced into a corner which he couldn't back out of. The man had no choice but to accept or compromise his honour.

“Very well, I accept,” he said stiffly.

“Excellent,” Alicarius said, allowing a smile to enter his features. “We duel in the town square, oh, I don't know, about now.”

He turned and strode out of the barracks, the others hurrying to keep up. As Alicarius walked, he let his challenge be known to the town.

“People of Chorrol!” he bellowed as he walked through the streets. “A challenge has been issued.”

People watched him as he went by, following him to see what the fuss was about.

“According to this man,” Alicarius continued, pointing at Hentius, who was following with a sheen of sweat and an expression of pure panic. “I have failed to do my duty properly. According to this man, I was not supposed to defend our city. Apparently, I was supposed to sit by quietly as an army advanced on it and do nothing. Apparently, I should be dismissed for defending the empire!”

There was a jeer from the crowd as they heard this. No doubt the returning soldiers had told tales of his fight with Grund and Skyrim's army and Alicarius had been elevated to the status of a local hero.

“So I have challenged him to an honourable duel,” Alicarius said. “If this man wins then I shall be forced to retire. If I win, then I shall become Lord Commander of the Imperial Legion and there shall be somebody competent leading the legion.”

By the time his speech was done, Alicarius had reached the main square of Chorrol, followed by a large crowd. He stopped, and the people stopped as well, waiting to see what happened.

Alicarius placed the tip of his halberd on the cobbled ground of the square, and walked in a large circle. The scraping noise the adamantium made as it ground along the stone was painful to hear, but Alicarius needed a public arena to defeat Hentius in.

“This shall be our dueling area,” Alicarius announced. “Fifteen yards by fifteen yards. Lord Commander Hentius Annuit, you may take your pick of weapons, as I shall also do.”

Hentius suddenly seemed to come to his senses.

“What?” he exclaimed. “You can't do that. I cannot fight to with your weapons. The competition is an unfair one, I declare it forfeit.”

“Very well then,” Alicarius said. He turned his halberd tip downwards and slammed it into the ground, the cobbles around it cracking on the impact. No doubt it would need sharpening later on. “I shall fight you unarmed.”

He removed his armour's gauntlets in order to make the fight seem fairer-with them he could punch his way through a brick wall.

“Do you wish me to handicap myself any further, Lord Commander?” Alicarius asked. “Perhaps I could fight blindfolded, with my hands tied behind my back in order to swing things even further in your favour.”

Even without a weapon, however the fight was massively one sided in the Grey Knight's favour, but the crowd was in the palm of Alicarius' hand and willing to believe anything he told them.

“That will be all,” Hentius said stiffly, in a futile attempt to regain some face. He stepped into the dueling circle, drawing his sword.

“You,” Alicarius said, pointing at the elf named Varvur. “You shall be witness to the duel. Do you swear to record with all honesty the result of this duel?”

“I do,” the elf replied. He had a hungry look in his eyes, as if he was seeing the some old and oft yearned for wish come true.

“Very well then,” Alicarius said. “Begin the duel.”

Hentius circled Alicarius, who had shifted into a boxing stance, before judging the moment as right and charging in, swinging his sword. Alicarius waited for a moment, before sidestepping, grabbing the wrist of the Lord Commander in one hand and his portly waist in the other and flipping him onto his back. There were cheers and laughter from the crowd as they saw the pompous man humiliated so.

“Come on, I'm sure you can do better than that,” Alicarius said. “I'm a fair man, Lord Commander, let's make it the best of three.”

Twice more Hentius attacked, and twice more the man was knocked aside by Alicarius, who simply helped the Lord Commander up. After the third bout was finished, Alicarius turned and addressed the crowd.

“I believe he is beaten,” he announced. “Would you say so, Varvur.”

The elf, now smiling widely, nodded.

“I pronounce Alicarius Justinian as Lord Commander of the Imperial Legion,” he said. The crowd went wild when they heard that, whooping and cheering their local hero. Alicarius scanned the crowd and saw Serrio giving him a broad, approving grin. Even the man who seemed to be Hentius' second in command looked pleased.

Hentius scrambled to his feet, and seemed on the verge of tears.

“He'll ruin the Empire,” he said, somewhat petulantly. “He'll bring in war, and he'll ruin the entire thing.”

The man pouted in rage and stormed off. As he did so, Alicarius dusted his hands off and said the line he decided would be most fitting for the hero the crowd had decided he was.

“Well that's dealt with,” he said. “Who's up for a drink?”

Update, update. Rah rah!

Just one little snippet that I noticed...



Other than that... Bearucrats are losing, down with the red tape!

Cheers for pointing that out Silver, I'll go fix it.

Thanks again, and remember; power to the people (or the space marines with the gigantic halberds and scary guns)!

Edit: Done!

Awesome, sauce. Alicarius always seemed like one who'd learn the rules word for word. Very well done Colonel, once again.

Hehe now that was a good update, you're very good at describing debate scenes as well as the combat parts Beany. It was great to see Alicarius in fist-fight and shows how stupid Hentius was to think he could beat a Grey Knight - Heck Hentius wouldn't have beat Alicarius if he was blindfolded with his hands and legs tied by his back .

There are a few errors in there like some typos and grammer errors that if I had the time, I would point out, however french revision awaits!

Thanks for the comments you two.

Ahrenil: Well, Alicarius needs to know this stuff if he wants to run a garrison, doesn't he?.

Illy: Actually, both Hentius and Alicarius knew which way the fight was going to go, but Alicarius had him backed into corner where he had no choice but to accept.

Got to say, after writing that part I realised Alicarius would make a terrifying lawyer.

"Go on, sue Alicarius. We've got a morgue full of people who've tried to sue Alicarius!"

Ha I could imagine him now pacing the courtroom in a suit and a tie.

"So where were you on the night of the...wait what do I care I'm a frickin' Grey Knight!" *pulls out psycannon*

C'mon Beanie I'm waiting for the next part .

Sorry Illydoor, I've been really busy recently. I'll see what I can get done.

Edit: Actually, 'fraid not. I'm having my time taken up working on a story, set 40 years after Oblivion, of absolutely epic proportions. Fortunately it'll be a standalone, so I can get back to Grey Knight after that.

And I finally get round to updating. I've been hit by inspiration, and soon things are going to take their own path.

A very, very different path.

Part 31-Dusk and Dawn

Alicarius spent the next few days in a whirlwind of activity, changing the legion and reworking it from the ground up. Soldiers were organised into squads led by sergeants. Certain members contained specialists such as marksmen, while the others were armed simply with rifles, swords and shields. Ten squads would form a company, led by a captain and each garrison would consist of three companies, with any troops left over to be moved to fotresses or cities where garrisons were under strength. Alicarius wanted Martin to inherit a realm that would have a viable army-no doubt many nations would be keen to dispute his claim to the throne and seize territory. Skyrim had just been the first to do so.

It was a hectic time, and by the time Alicarius had sent out orders, considered the logistics of his plan and threatened repercussions to a commander who refused to put through his plan. By the time his plans had been implemented, a week had passed.

“Message for you sir,” a legionnaire said, as he entered the barracks room where, but a week ago, Alicarius had comprehensively humiliated Hentius Annit. “From the Blades.”

The message was simple and curt.

Alicarius

Return to Cloud Ruler Temple as soon as you possibly can. Trouble has arisen.

Jauffre

Alicarius sighed as he saw the message. Yet another distraction from his duties. Still, Mehrunes Dagon was a threat to Tamriel. Even though a base had been purged, the cult probably had others scattered around to work from.

“Bad news?” Serrio asked. He had been appointed the commander of Chorrol's garrison almost immediately, and had taken to his job with the same gusto that he approached everything else.

“Letter from Jauffre,” Alicarius said. “He says there's been a problem and that I need to return.

Serrio frowned.

“He really love to keep you busy, doesn't he?” he said.

Alicarius nodded.

“It happens,” he said. “Thann!”

Alicarius' new right hand man, a redguard, turned to see what his commander wanted.

“There's something that has come up,” Alicarius said. “I'm needed at Cloud Ruler Temple.”

“Don't worry sir, we'll keep things sorted out while you're there,” his lieutenant replied. “There's no point in keeping Jauffre waiting.”

Alicarius nodded his thanks.

“I should be going then,” he said. “Get somebody to send a pigeon to Jauffre and tell him I'm coming.”

“I'll get on it sir,” Thann said.

“Good job,” Alicarius said. He grabbed his halberd and clipped it into the sling he had attached to his armour's power pack. “I'll be going then.”

#

After he had gathered together a few supplies for travelling, Alicarius set out on the long road to Bruma. The journey was uneventful, but he was delayed when came to the point where, not long before, he had done battle with Jsashe and her army. He paused as he saw the wide circled of freshly turned earth that lay just a few metres from the road, the grave for both the Nord and Imperial troops that had died in the battle.

With great care, Alicarius took a handful of large stones and piled them up in a small mound on the frozen earth next to the grave. Hopefully, if continuously topped up by travellers, this cairn would last long after the memory of the battle had been forgotten

After travelling a while longer, Alicarius finally reached the stone walls of Bruma. As he made his way through the town noticing a blacksmith's shop already proudly displaying a selection of muskets and pistols. Alicarius had had his doubts about allowing the powerful weapons to be sold, but he knew that if he didn't they would be smuggled and sold illegally in any case, proably within just a few weeks. As long as he kept the Legion's models as the most up to date then he was confident that Cyrodiil would remain the dominant military power.

He pushed the north gate open, savouring the feel of the crisp breeze on his craggy and scarred face. His helmet was stored in the backpack he had taken, and he now let the chilly air whip around his face. The walk up to Cloud Ruler Temple was quiet, his only company the wind blowing through the bare pines, but by the time he reached the fortress his face was becoming numb with cold.

As he approached the wall, one of the sentries spotted him and shouted down from his tower; “Who goes there?”

“Alicarius Justinian, Lord Commander of the Imperial Legion,” Alicarius said. “I have a meeting with Jauffre.”

“Heard you were coming, sir,” the sentry replied. “If you wait just a moment I'll have the gates open.”

The huge wooden gates rumbled open, their hinges groaning. Alicarius made his way through the huge stone portal, boots clanking on the frost coated flagstones.

“Mind your step sir,” one of the Blades called down. “The stones get very slippy when its frosty.”

“I will,” Alicarius said. He made his way up the steps, concious of the warning and avoiding the thicker patches of ice. He quickly made his way to the top of the steps, up to the main hall of Cloud Ruler Temple.

He pushed the doors open, and entered the main hall. After the biting cold of the outside, it was refreshing to be in the warmth again. He noticed Jauffre conversing with the Argonian, Walker-on-the-Water in a corner, and called out a greeting.

“Alicarius,” Jauffre said in surprise. “You arrived quicker than expected.”

“I can travel fast when I need to,” Alicarius said. “But that's beside the point. Have there been any developments on finding the amulet.”

“There have,” Jauffre said. “Both good and bad.”

“What's gone wrong?” Alicarius asked.

“Walker's been doing some excellent undercover work for us,” Jauffre said. “And we discovered that the Mythic Dawn has been spying on us, trying to gauge our defences. Walker managed to deal with them, but they have obviously recovered from the elimination of another base, and we're racing against time here.”

“So what's the good new then?” Alicarius said.

“Martin has managed to translate some of the Mysterium Xerxes,” Walker said. “We know one of the things we need to enter Paradise and retrieve the Amulet of Kings.”

“And what's that?” Alicarius asked.

“According to the Mysterium, the 'blood of the daedra,'” Jauffre said. “We think this is some kind of daedric artefact.”

“Why not simply use a piece of daedra made weaponry?” Alicarius said. “It isn't too hard to find.”

Jauffre shook his head.

“It's not that simple,” he said. “It needs to be something powerful and rare. Something made by one of the daedric princes.”

“And how am I supposed to get that?” Alicarius asked.

“There are various shrines scattered around Cyrodiil,” Walker said. “Secret places, usually, dedicated the worship of the daedric princes. If you find one and run an errand for the prince there, people are often rewarded with an artefact of some sort.”

“And you think I can get help from a daedra?” Alicarius asked. “Despite the fact that at least one of them is determined to destroy Cyrodiil.”

“The daedric princes fight and squabble amongst themselves all of the time,” Jauffre said. “They are fractional beings-one of them is bound to benefit from the downfall of Mehrunes Dagon.”

“So which one do you think I should appeal to?” Alicarius asked.

“I think our best bet would be Azura,” Jauffre said. “She has aided the empire in the past and I believe she may do so again.”

“So where can I find her shrine?” Alicarius asked.

“It's east of Bruma,” Jauffre said. “In the mountains. Be careful, will you? The passes can get quite treacherous now winter's setting in.”

“I'll be fine,” Alicarius said.

Little did he know, he would be wrong.

#

The wind whipped round Alicarius' helmet as he crested yet another hill. Fine and downy flakes built up against his armoured arm as he raised it against the wind, scanning for any kind of statue or temple, something that would show there was a shrine present.

There was nothing, only another valley, a gentle lee that was being slowly filled with snow. Alicarius sighed and trudged on, down into the valley.

And into a warm, sunny glade.

Alicarius gave a start of surprise as he saw the sudden change. He was standing on a carpet of grass. The valley was lined with rows of rose bushes, massive plants with flowers blooming a foot wide. Here and there, bobbing and dancing points of light rose from the ground, waltzing together lazily in midair.

One of them approached the space marine, softly rising and falling before coming to a halt before him.

“Approach, catalyst,” it spoke in a voice as soft as the sun hitting a lake. “Approach.”

Alicarius frowned at it in confusion, before stepping forwards. The light danced away, before stopping again, once more whispering; “Approach.”

Alicarius followed it, and he noticed more and more of the lights came, whirling and spinning around him in a corona of brightness. Despite himself, Alicarius smiled- there was something refreshing about the lights, something simple and joyful that left him feeling rejuvenated and reborn.

The lights led him onwards through the lush and green valley, a guiding halo that took him through the strange place to a statue. There were a few benches on the ground in front of it, and about half a dozen people waiting in a semicircle around.

As one, they saw him and turned.

“The catalyst comes,” one of them said. “Approach the statue, Grey Knight.”

They parted before his figure, the lights retreating to ring the strange congregation.

“You have come,” a voice spoke, laden with ancient power. “As was foretold.”

Alicarius frowned as he heard this.

“You have been expecting me?” he asked.

“I have,” the voice said. “At long last I meet Alicarius Justinian.”

“Who are you?” Alicarius asked, suspicion laden on his voice. “What do you want with me?”

“I am Azura,” the voice said. “Lady of dawn and dusk. And you, you are Alicarius Justinian. You are the Catalyst.”

Part 32-Catalyst

“Catalyst?” Alicarius asked, confused by this sudden turn of events. “What is this catalyst you speak of? I have never heard of such a thing before.”

“You, commander,” Azura said, her voice seeming to echo with laughter. “You are the catalyst that we have hoped for for so long.”

“I do not understand,” Alicarius said. “What are you talking about?”

“Tell me commander, are you aware of what a catalyst does?” Azura asked.

“It's something that speeds up chemical reactions, isn't it?” Alicarius said. “So how does that relate to me?”

“You are our catalyst,” Azura said. “You are the one that shall bring our plan to fruition.”

“Plan?” Alicarius asked. “What plan is this?”

There was an incorporeal chuckle from the other side.

“There is so little you know of us, Alicarius,” Azura said. “Despite your ten thousand years of hatred and constant war, your Imperium is still blind to Chaos' true nature.”

“I know the nature of Chaos,” Alicarius said. “It is an evil thing, a plant that take roots in the hearts of men and strangles everything good and pure out of them, leaving nothing but a shell to be filled with your evil and their own selfishness desires.”

“And is the Imperium so different?” Azura asked. “Do they not simply destroy men and leave nothing but obedient and willing shells in their place, led on by some insane zealot? If you think about, the Imperium and Chaos are really not so different. Were it not for the small mindedness of your so-called 'God Emperor,' then the Imperium could have become so much more.”

“You lie!” Alicarius exclaimed, turning to leave. “I have nothing more to say to you.”

“Very well then,” Azura said mockingly. “You may leave. Allow your sheer stupidity to overwhelm you. Allow it to doom all of Nirn. By all means, go ahead.”

Alicarius stopped.

“What do you mean, doom Nirn?” Alicarius asked.

“You know very well what I mean. If you leave now, you shall never get the tool you need to stop Mehrunes Dagon.”

“Then give me what I need and I shall be gone,” Alicarius growled, voice dripping with hostility. “I will not bother you again.”

“Yet there is much I must talk to you about, catalyst,” Azura said. “There is much for you to learn, but you must listen.”

For a moment, Alicarius stood there, contemplating his options. He could try another shrine, run another errand for another daedra, but there would be less chance that the shrine's patron would be willing to listen. And as long as he got whatever artefact he needed then he could bear a conversation with a daemon. It wasn't as if if he had to listen to what it said-most likely it would be lying in any case.

“Very well,” Alicarius said after a moment. “I shall listen. But do not test my patients again. You cannot sway me to your servitude.”

“I am glad to hear that you see sense,” Azura said. “But allow me to start from the beginning. What do you know of the gods of Chaos?”

“There are four of them,” Alicarius said. “Nurgle, Khorne, Tzeentch and Slaanesh. How is this relevant?”

“And what do you know of their Greater Daemons?” Azura continued, ignoring his question.

“They are made from a small part of their god's essence,” Alicarius said.

“And what do you think we daedric princes are?” Azura asked.

“Daemons,” Alicarius snarled. “Of course.”

“I see you finally realise my nature,” Azura said. “While these people here worship me as a goddess, I am, in reality, nothing more than a slave to Grandfather Nurgle.”

“Nurgle?” Alicarius asked, sudden confused. Whenever he had fought the daemons of Nurgle or the Grandfather's worshippers they had been disgusting things, bloated and pustulant corpses kept alive only by the sickening will of their patron. This rich valley, blooming and vibrant with life and joy, seemed a far leap from the disease ridden creatures that he had always associated with the repulsive god.

“Indeed,” Azura said. “This is the one place that I have my freedom, away from his service. Here I can truly celebrate life in all its forms, but another channel for his creativity.[/i]”

“But how?” Alicarius said. “I have fought with Nurgle's creatures before. They are creatures of rot and despair that have no place in the natural order of things.”

“Alicarius, there is so little you understand,” Azura said. “Despite your years of fighting the Chaos Gods you know next to nothing of them.”

“Association with the enemy can only lead to assimilation by the enemy,” Alicarius said, quoting an old catechism.

“And so the Imperium blindfolds itself to any information that it could use for its gains, simply because it does not suit what it wants to see,” Azura said, amusement playing gently over her voice. “It strangles the life out of itself in its efforts for victory.”

“I warned you not to test my patience,” Alicarius said warningly. “Say what you must say, daemon.”

“The gods of Chaos are fractional and ever changing things,” Azura said. “Nurgle, for instance, may represent decay and rot, but he is an example of the bounteous joy of life itself. This valley here is but a shrine to him and his joy.”

“What are you trying to say?” Alicarius asked.

“I am trying to say that, despite your assumptions, we are not creatures of pure evil,” Azura said. “We are different, yes, but not as much as you might think.”

“What you say is blasphemy,” Alicarius growled, fingers clenching into fists.

“Is the truth blasphemous, simply because it contradicts the one you choose to believe?” Azura asked. “But tell me what you think of these Aedra you hear of. Surely you do not think of them as the creators of the universe, despite what many people here believe, do you?”

“I have never given the issue much thought,” Alicarius admitted. “But that is illogical. To suggest that they created this world suggests that they created the entirety of creation.”

“And indeed they did not,” Azura said. “The Aedra are nothing more than charlatans. They came before use, drew this world from the material realm and made it their plaything. They call themselves gods and lords and dress themselves in their fancy titles, playing their game and no knowing that soon it will end for them.”

“What do you mean?” Alicarius asked.

“We intend to topple the Aedra,” Azura said. “We will send them falling from their thrones. And you shall be our catalyst, the object that shall spur our plan into motion and give us the victory we desire.”

“Aid daemons?” Alicarius said, derision on his voice. “What foolishness is this? I hate your kind, if you have not forgotten, whatever mask of deception you wear.”

“I do not deceive you,” Azura snapped angrily. “I speak only the truth, Alicarius, whether you like it or not. Your choice in this matter has been determined. You will go onto the three trials and if you complete them or not is up to you. Should you do so, you shall become our catalyst, and aid us in overthrowing the Aedra.[/i]”

“I shall not help you,” Alicarius repeated stubbornly.

“But you do not understand, Alicarius,” Azura said. “By refusing to do so you shall doom Nirn to the Aedra's Harvest. There will be no hope for anybody upon this world unless you overcome the prejudice in your mind and step up to save this world like any true hero would.”

For a moment, Alicarius was silent, before saying; “You know what I came here for. I shall consider your offer if you let me have it.”

“Very well, catalyst,” Azura said. “I see that despite all the help we have given you so far, you refuse to help us. But if you wish to defeat Mehrunes Dagon then take this.”

In the air in front of him, three of the lights that had been dancing around their conversation coalesced into a single orb of light. The swirling ball of brightness took shape and definition, before finally coming to rest in the air in front of him as a crystal, shaped and carved to look like an eight pointed star. Gently and carefully, Alicarius took it from it from the air and held it in his hands, testing its weight. Even through his armour, Alicarius could feel it throb with warp energy.

“What is this?” he asked.

“It is known as Azura's Star,” Azura said. “You know the purpose I have given it to you for.”

“My thanks,” Alicarius said quietly. He turned from the statue, stowing the strange crystal within his backpack and leaving the strange valley behind.

Once again he climbed into howling winds and a flying curtain of snow, reducing visibility to just a few metres. He hurriedly placed his helmet back on and changed the view to heat-detection vision, throwing it into shades of dark green, but the sheer freezing cold of the flying snow mean that visibility was no better. He changed it back to normal-he was more familiar with it than he was with heat-detection.

He walked for a few minutes more, navigating his way through the whirling snow, while the sky above him sometimes rumbled with ominous thunder. He would have to find shelter-he didn't want to get caught out here in the middle of a storm.

He stopped when he heard a deep and throaty growl behind him. Must be a mountain lion of some sort. Very slowly and carefully, Alicarius turned and reached behind him, unclipping his halberd. He bought it into a fighting position and stepped forwards.

And that was when a scaled fist smashed into the back of his helmet.

Taken by surprise, Alicarius stumbled forwards, only to have another scaled and taloned hand grab him and deliver a powerful punch to his gut. Despite his armour, he felt the impact and gasped with shocked pain.

Something grabbed one his arms, wrenching his halberd out of his hand, and slammed its free hand down onto his skull. Stunned, Alicarius dropped to his knees, before another immensely strong arm grabbed his free arm. Before he could struggle, another series of percussive blows smashed into his helmet, slamming him into unconsciousness.

Their work done, the three daedroths picked up the unconscious Alicarius and dragged him towards the waiting gate to Oblivion.

A cool update, especially the interaction with Azura and the stoic Alicarius. I like how you represented the different views on 'good' and 'evil' from both perspectives.

One gripe I would have was that this part needed a bit more description I think, it was a more dialogue heavy post. Not much, just a few little words here and there just to describe to the reader where Alicarius is and what's happening whilst he and Azura are talking. Also there are some typos in there that you may want to just comb through, for example I think you used 'patients' instead of 'patience' at one point in the latest chapter.

Keep it up Beanbean .

Damn, I'll fix those. Thanks for commenting though, and I'm glad you noticed the typos. I'm no good at those some times.

And I'm glad you saw the 'good and evil' thing there with the daedra. I thought for a minute of having Azura as the Eldar Goddes Isha (if you don't know the background, she was taken prisoner by Nurgle, and he keeps her as a sort of slave bride), but I thought that seeing as it was a pretty obscure piece of lore it would be a bit unfair on the readers who aren't too clued up on Warhammer.

Still, expect some serious evil in the next part...

Edit: Done!

And the muse is really flowing now. It also flowed in quite an evil manner for this part.

Part 33-Agony

“So you're finally awake,” a strangely familiar voice said, joy radiating from it. “I was beginning to get bored, you know that.”

Alicarius groaned as he came to, his skull pounding with pain. His shoulders ached, his arms wrenched up in the air, behind his back. He was leaning forward on them, held from falling over by thick iron chains.

He surveyed his surroundings with bleary eyes, trying to discern some details from the hazy blur of red around him, before a hand grabbed his cheeks and turned him face to face with a pair of bloodshot, maddened eyes.

“I'm over here,” their owner said helpfully.

Alicarius tried to pull away, but found he could barely move without igniting a flare of pain in his back.

“Now,” the eyes owner said, stepping back and revealing himself to be a dark elf. “I think we've met.”

Alicarius squinted at the elf, vision still throbbing with pain, before he realised he had indeed seen the elf before.

“You, you were with the Mythic Dawn, weren't you?” he asked. “Erna. But you're dead. I killed you.”

“Yes, then no, then yes again,” Erna said. “In that I was at the Mythic Dawn's little hideout, but I'm not part of that club of amateurs, and yes, you did kill me. Cut me in half. One of the most painful ways in which I've died, believe me. Bleeding out of a burn is not a fun way to go.”

“So why are you still here?” Alicarius asked.

“Why?” Erna said. “Because I'm one of the few true worshippers of Mehrunes Dagon left. The Mythic Dawn, pah, they didn't know anything. Mehrunes Dagon desires destruction, not people banding together to serve a common cause, even if it was in his name. Why, to do such a thing is an insult, if you ask me. Completely missing the point.”

“So you can't die?” Alicarius asked, gritting his teeth against the pain in his skull.

“That's right,” Erna said conversationally. “Found out, oh, about fifty years ago, I think it was. Maybe sixty, when I was going to the Ghostfence, you know, place in Vvardenfel. Got killed there. Can't really remember how, what with all the noise and confusion. Bloody painful though. Anyway, long story short, Lord Dagon noticed the little racket I kicked up, saw I was promising and restored me here in Oblivion to carry out his bidding in the mortal world. So if I ever get killed, I just appear back here after a while. Of course, I'm put in pain for failure, that's just common sense. Wouldn't want to take a gift like that for granted, would I?”

He paused for a moment.

“Oh listen to me, going on and on,” he said. “You're probably bored, aren't you? Here, let's get going. I've been lucky, being appointed Lord Dagon's personal torturemaster, and I might as well make the most of my time.”

He picked up a box from the floor and placed it on the table.

“I've got something special for you today,” he said. “I got a lift into one of your worlds you know, paid a visit to pick up some supplies from that Inquisition of yours. Very inventive bunch, they are, I must say.”

Erna opened the box and pulled out what appeared to be a whip, a thick band of flexible metal.

“Take this. Not just a whip but, oh, what was it that charming young woman called it again, oh yeah, an 'electro-flenser,” Erna said. “I just press this button here and look.”

Blue lightning played along the whip's length, sending it flailing and sparking madly.

“It even whips for you!” Erna said in childish delight. “Isn't that brilliant?”

He stepped behind Alicarius, the electro-flenser still active in his hand.

“Now, you're probably wondering why I'm doing this,” Erna said. “Well, Lord Dagon, in his infinite and eternal wisdom, has decided that he wants you on his side. Of course, just saying that is stupid, because you'd refuse, so it's my job to pursuade you. If you ever want the pain to stop, at any time, just say to me; 'I will serve.' I give you my word that I'll let you go. Now, let's begin.”

He drew his arm back and Alicarius' shoulders erupted into a whirlwind of pain.

#

It was a blur. A blur of agony, despair, cruelty and violence. Time became irrelevant, the days just becoming periods of when there was pain and when there was not. Erna's torture seemed constant, Alicarius lapsing into unconsciousness almost soon as Erna left the chamber.

The elf left not avenue unexplored-every part of his body was systematically destroyed within an inch of its durability, only left when Erna was sure that it could then heal for their next session. Runes were carved into his skin with scalpels, blasphemous symbols that burned against Alicarius' flesh. His left arm was stripped of skin, blood running down his arms, only to have stinging, burning chemicals rubbed into it. It healed, but became a mess of scar tissue, any runes scratched onto its surface refusing to heal, becoming permanent marks in his skin.

Dehydration and starvation began to take their toll, Alicarius' stomach filled with a gnawing hunger that he was unable to sate. He was not fed, and any water given to him was laced with something that overpowered his weakened and exhausted immune system, bringing on bouts of hallucinations. Electricity was pumped through his body, sending him spasming and twitching madly, his jaws gnashing together involuntarily.

“I'm impressed, you know, I really am,” Erna said. “You know how long it has been now?”

Alicarius shook his head. He couldn't talk. His tongue was swollen with thirst and he couldn't think coherently, not with the pain that was racking his body.

“Two weeks,” Erna said. “I've never had somebody hold on for so long. You just won't break, and I've got to thank you for that. I've never had so much fun.”

Alicarius groaned in reply.

“Got something to say?” Erna said. “You might as well say it. Lord Dagon's getting impatient. He's running into trouble over in Mundus now. He could use your help.”

“I...” Alicarius croaked.

“What's that?” Erna asked. “Go on, spit out.”

“I...will,” he gasped.

“Come on, come on, say it,” Erna cajoled.

“Not.”

Erna's face fell for a moment, before he grinned again.

“Well,” he said. “We'll see how long that lasts, shall we?”

Coolio. Reminds me of that Malus Darkblade story I read yonks ago. Possibly even better description .

Haven't actually gotten round to reading them, but I've heard good things about those books so I'm guessing that's good.

Yay!

*Dances around in happiness*

And more for you lovely people before I go away to Cornwall for a week (there may be net access there, but I can't be certain). Enjoy.

Or else...

Part 34-Freedom

It was too much. He couldn't last much longer. If it continued, he would lose-either lose his soul to Erna's tortures or lose his mind to the encroaching Rage. He could feel it flailing at the crumbling fastness of his psyche, searching for a weakness to tear open.

If either of them succeeded, then he was damned, along with the world of Nirn.

He needed to get out of this oppressive stone cell, escape, but it was hard. Even with his willpower, it was hard not to simply collapse into unconsciousness as soon as Erna had finished for the day, and keeping a coherent thought during his sessions was impossible.

He needed a plan, but his head was swimming, a blurred mess of agony.

With a whine, the drill finished chewing through the skin of his torso. Erna pulled the tool out with a wet sucking noise, peeling off a strip of meat that had been caught there. Alicarius' head rolled as the muscles in his neck, straining with agony, suddenly relaxed, gasping with pain. Already his body was healing the wound inflicted up, blood congealing and the hole scabbing over. By morning there would only be a light scar, even that being gone after a day, as long as the wound was left alone.

“Well I'm done for today,” Erna announced cheerfully, placing the drill on the table next to him and patting Alicarius of the shoulder. “You get some rest, eh?”

Alicarius groaned, head still limp, as Erna shut the door of his cell. Already darkness was beginning to encroach on his vision, threatening to pull him into unconsciousness, only to be woken by another dose of pain at the hands of Erna. He forced his eyes to open, despite the tempting weight of his eyelids.

With bleary eyes, he scanned the red walls of his cell. His arms were still forced behind him by chains, while his feet were free, on a rough, raised stone block. He couldn't simply hop off the block-if he did he would probably wrench his arms out of their sockets.

He turned his aching neck to look behind him and saw the staple which held the chains in place. That was all that was stopping him from breaking free of this patch of hell. If he could remove the staple, he could escape.

And so, ignoring the screaming pain in his neck, Alicarius wrenched his head round and spat.

He was lucky, the saliva impacting on the iron staple with a hiss. That would be enough to weaken it. Now he would have to break free.

Bracing his arms, he pulled. His enhanced musculature bulged and strained against the chain, scabs rupturing and bleeding, sending blood trickling down his arms. He growled with agony, but continued to pull. He could not stop now. Roaring in pain, cursing and snarling, Alicarius pulled, even when his head began to spin through the sheer agony and the loss of blood.

He did not know for how long that desperate struggle went on, blood slicked down his shoulders and back. But after what seemed to be an eternity of pain, something gave-with a clank, the chain broke and Alicarius toppled forwards, chin slamming into the floor.

He lay there, gasping and light headed, his vision blurred. He couldn't move-if he did, lightning bolts of pain tore through his body.

He needed to escape. If Erna came, he would be helpless. He would be placed back where he was and the pain would begin again, most likely worse than ever. He felt something tingle in his stomach, a nauseous, alien sensation that seemed to flutter within his starved belly. For a moment, he wondered what it was, before he remembered it from long, long ago.

It was fear. He feared the pain. He feared Erna.

“I will not fear,” he murmured, remembering the old Imperial catechism. “Fear is the mind killer.”

He raised his arms, trying to ignore the agony that danced through them on shoes of razors, and placed his palms flat on the ground.

“To give in to fear is to give in to doubt,” he continued, pushing his hands against the floor. “To give in to doubt is to give in to heresy.”

He dragged a knee beneath him, resting his weight on his tortured and ravaged thigh.

“To give in to heresy is to surrender your soul,” he said. He pushed with his arms, raising his other leg so that his foot was sole down upon the ground. “My soul belongs to the Lord of Man.”

He pushed, forcing his body upwards on sheer effort of will. For a moment, he stumbled, his knees threatening to give, before he steadied himself.

“I am astartes,” he announced to the empty cell. “I shall know no fear, for I am fear incarnate.”

With one hand, he tore chains from his wrist, gathering from a reserve of strength the he knew he did not have. Teeth bared in a snarl, he looped the chain around one hand, swinging it experimentally as a flail. It was not the most powerful or effective weapon, but it would have to do.

He took another step forward on exhausted thighs, then another, staggering drunkenly towards the door. He reached it and it swung open when he pushed-Erna had obviously thought he would not escape.

He needed to find his halberd and armour, and then a way of escape. He supposed that they would be stored near to his prison, that they could be anywhere nearby.

As he wandered down the corridor, past identical doors no doubt leading to more cells, he realised that the innards of this building were familiar, that he had been here, or somewhere similar before.

With a start, he realised where he was-inside one of the great fortresses or towers that dotted Oblivion, similar to the one he had fought through in Kvatch. And so he had spent two weeks inside the warp, the corrupt and blasphemous place that housed his foes.

He silently thanked the Emperor that he had not had his soul stolen by one of the unspeakable entities that inhabited this forsaken and evil place.

Alicarius stopped at a cell door when he heard screams of terror and pain within. For a moment he contemplated whether or not Erna could be within. He would enjoy any vengeance he could exact against the dark elf.

He pushed the door open, but found it to be empty apart from a single woman chained to a chair fixed in the centre of the wall. Her eyes were wide, and she thrashed as if in a fit, delirious and unseeing. Alicarius approached her slowly, but she merely screamed all the louder, beginning to bite and snarl like a rabid animal.

Alicarius reached forwards and cupped her chin in one hand. Gently, he pulled he struggling face towards his own and looked her in the eyes. They were empty and vacant, filled with nothing more than a mindless, terror fuelled hate. With one swift movement, Alicarius snapped her neck.

In the end, he killed them all. Every subject of Erna's tortures had their lives ended. Some were wild and mad with fear, while others where silent, staring at him with blank, uncomprehending eyes, windows into a body now vacant of a soul. The few that still held onto their sanity simply nodded encouragingly as he reached to break their necks, whispering works of thanks moments before he released him from their torment.

It was long and painstaking work, but he did it. He had a duty to do it.

Duty was all he had left. That, and vengeance.

He continued to pad through the oppressive, stinking halls of the prison, still keeping his weapon close at hand. There had been no guards-it was obvious that escape had been viewed as an impossibility.

Finally he came to a room that was not a cell, but an armoury. Maybe he could find a proper weapon.

He found something better. He found his weapons.

Like an old man meeting a long lost friend, Alicarius approached his armour, held on a set of shelves, and extended it to touch it gently. With meticulous care, he took each piece of it from their storage space and inspected it for damage. Fortunately, the daedra hadn't tampered with it-they were obviously keeping it in working condition in the hope that they could break his will.

His inspection done, he placed every segment of the armour on, letting it fix itself into place with a hiss. Alicarius checked his storm bolter mounted on his wrist, triggering the mechanism to make sure that it was in working order.

Finally, he took his halberd, activating the weapon and letting the lightning from its energised field crackle along its cleaver like blade. He made a few experimental swings with it, familiarising himself with his weapon, before deactiviting the field.

He glanced at the chain that he had ripped free from the wall, his improvised weapon. True, it had killed no guards, but he had used it more than once to release Erna's victims from their torment.

“This is your monument,” he murmured. He activated his halberd and carefully sliced one of the chain's end links in half, the weapon's lightning field slicing through the iron and turning the rest red hot.

Wasting no time, Alicarius jammed the end near the wrist-guard of his armour, letting the iron solder itself to the adamantium. He repeated the movement with the other end of the chain, wrapping it around his arm. He cooled it with an ice spell, letting frost form around the metal before melting almost immediately and rattled the chain experimentally. It held.

Alicarius turned to leave the armoury and escape this place for good, when he noticed something lying on another shelf, a soul gem. After a moment's consideration, Alicarius picked it up.

It would be a fitting catalyst for his vengeance.

Sorry Bean, didn't realise you posted this part up. Twas' a very good chapter too, and I liked the bit where you included the old catechisms of the Space Marines to get Alicarius up and at 'em again.

One thing:
Worse?

I have feeling Erna's soul gonna' end up in that gem. I'll have to wait and see I guess .

Well as long as you read it some time, I don't mind. And I'll go and fix that mistake up. Expect part 35 up soon.

Edit: Fixed!

is it soon yet bean? i only started reading this yesterday but i've finished already and i want more. i do love what you are doing though, shame that BL dosen't like crossovers on their forums.

Well I've been stuck for inspiration for this for a while so I'm diverting my efforts other projects at the moment just to get a bit of a break. Not to say that this is being abandoned, oh no. Just a break, so I can get the final part of this done even better.

And it is indeed a shame that BL forums don't allow crossovers, as then I could post this up there and get even more praise!

I finally got my act together and wrote more! Hooray!

Chapter 35-The Hounds of Dagon

His weapons and armour returned to him, Alicarius now had one goal, to escape this infernal prison and find a way back to Nirn. He had been here too long, and now he had escaped the supposed 'protection' of his cell he could feel the malignant power of this place already seeping into his bones. And if he encountered any guards then he was doomed.

He left the armoury and turned away from the cells, towards the large metal door that, Alicarius hoped, would lead to the outside.

He pushed it open, and much to his relief saw the cracked barren earth and the storm wracked sky that he had seen the last time he had visited Oblivion, back when he had fought at Kvatch. A long, tall spiked wall ran around him, and Alicarius glanced upwards behind him to see the imposing shape of the prison he had been kept in.

He headed towards the heavy gate set into the wall, using his halberd as a staff, his steps heavy and laboured.

He could feel unseen things already scratching and scrabbling away at his mind, probing his weakened mental defences. Before, at Kvatch, he had been on a combat high, his senses heightened and sharpened in the way only an astartes' could be, his mind reinforced against any threat. Now he was exhausted, easy prey for any powerful warp being that took notice. And if he lingered here, many would.

He reached the gate, grabbed the handle, twisted and heaved. For a moment, he thought the gate wouldn't budge, but then it creaked open as Alicarius strained to move it.

He lost his grip and slumped forwards onto the gate, strength drained. He wasn't sure how long he simply sat there, panting in a desperate attempt to get oxygen into his body. He could not stay here. He would not stay here.

“Well you got out,” an all too familiar voice said from behind him. “Well done.”

“Erna,” Alicarius snarled, not turning around. He pushed against the gate, staggering full circle to face the dark elf. “I was hoping I'd find you.”

He stumbled back across towards Erna, a hand outstretched. Erna stood there, grinning nonchalantly.

“You can't do a thing, you know,” he said as Alicarius' gauntlet slammed into his throat. “Not a thing.”

Alicarius smiled and shook his head.

“You're quite wrong there,” he said.

He murmured something too quiet to hear, and a purple mist spread from Erna's neck, sweeping over his whole body before dissipating.

“Oh no,” Erna murmured. “You didn't.”

“I did,” Alicarius said, taking the soul gem from his belt and waving it in front of Erna's eyes. “And believe me, it won't hurt a bit. So guess what, Erna. I can do something.”

#

Alicarius pushed through the gate, smiling as freedom beckoned just a few hundred tantalising metres away. There, like a baleful eye of flame, was a gate to Nirn. He slid his helmet on, blinking as reams of data slid across his vision. Most of the status runes were in the red.

Still using his halberd to support himself, he limped forward across the cracked and bone dry earth, intent on reaching the portal.

Then he heard the bark.

It was not a particularly loud one, nor did it need to be. But Alicarius knew that when you had teeth and claws that could shear through power armour, barking was not necessary.

Alicarius limped onwards, increasing his pace as best he could. He knew that he would never be able to outrun these fiends, but at least he could get himself closer to safety.

The barks and snarls got closer, louder. The hounds knew their quarry was slow and injured, and they were toying with him, trying to panic him and throw him clear.

“More fool them,” Alicarius muttered, forcing himself to keep the pace he had set, refusing to flag.

It was only when the barking was almost straight down his neck that Alicarius turned. He did so quickly, throwing his halberd out and slicing in a wide arc, crumpling to his knees as he did so.

There was a whimper as Alcarius felt it bite into something, and he turned a full one hundred and eighty degrees he saw his foes.

They were like dogs, or perhaps wolves, but huge, grown larger and more ferocious than any animal could ever be. Instead of fur, their skin was coated in scales, and they gnashed and snarled at Alicarius with fangs the size of his hand.

They formed a semicircle around him, closing in slowly. Alicarius could do nothing, just wait.

This was it. His fight against Mehrunes Dagon had come to nothing except a pointless death at the claws of his hounds. There was something absurd about the entire situation, and Alicarius couldn't help but laugh manically at the sheer irony of it all.

“Take me,” roared, still chuckling despite himself. “Do your worst!”

“Hasakt! Leskri! Raggad! Jullik!”

The commands were barked out swiftly, and the four daemonic hounds that had bought Alicarius low stepped back carefully, giving him a baleful look, before swinging their heads to see what demanded their attention.

It was a dremora, wearing the heavy armour traditionally worn by his people, a whip curled around his fingers.

“Back!” the daedra ordered.

Denied their sport, the hounds slunk away from Alicarius, gathering around the dremora, still snarling angrily at the astarte.

“I apologise, Grey Knight,” the dremora called. “My hounds are sometimes overzealous when it comes to guarding Lord Dagon's domain.”

Alicarius panted, still kneeling where he was on the ground.

“You don't want them to kill me?” he asked, gasping for air.

“It is against Lord Dagon's decree,” the dremora said. “Any who escape his prison is allowed to leave his domain.”

Alicairus shook his head slowly.

“So I'm free to go?” he asked.

“Indeed,” the dremora said, nodding. “Think of it as a pardon, a reward for the strength you showed while escaping.”

“And so you're letting your most dangerous enemy get away?” Alicarius asked.

“You're half dead,” the dremoar replied. “And once you're out of here you're fair game. You won't get far.”

Alicarius frowned at the Dremora's warning. What had happened during his two week absence?

“Go on then,” the dremora said. “You're welcome to leave.”

Alicarius sighed and pulled himself to his feet. Using his halberd to support himself, he limped towards the baleful, firey eye of the Oblivion gate.

oh heck...

Sorry I didn't reply to this earlier Beanie, didnae realised you posted a part up.

An odd metaphor for size I thinkles. 'the length of his forearm' perhaps?

Just a typo.

I'm not sure, does this work? Seems like 'welcome' is a bit contradictory here. You're permitted would sound better.

All in all, a good part, and it was nice to see that slimy Erna get his just desserts. Waiting for more, keep it up Kommissar!

*Shakes head in sorrow*

Man I've missed out on a lot of good reading during my self styled exile from the world that is called work and studies at the same time. Anywho I can't say anything more really than what has already been said, you're a very talented write and I'll try to follow and comment on your story a bit more regularly from now on.


...I suppose it is too much to ask for Alicarius to aqcuire a powerfist to deal out some righteous smiting...ah well you can't have everything you want. *eyes glass over at imagining a powerfist introducing it'self to Dagons ugly face*

Emperor Protects.

Hey, who needs a power fist when you can have six feet of adamantium force halberd?

Next part for you lovely people (I'll try and get them up more often now, so you should have something to comment on, Tellie). Enjoy!

Or else...

Part 36-Refugees

It had changed.

The land around the gate was almost no different from that inside Oblivion, cracked and scorched. The sky was deep crimson and wracked with black storm clouds. Here and there, jagged spires of rock speared upwards, leaning drunkenly towards the ground. But that wasn't the worst.

From Alicarius' position, he could see the Imperial City far ahead in the distance. But instead of the great lake stretching around it, a pool of burning magma encircled it, smoke pouring from its cracked and tortured surface. The white stone rings that once encircled the city were now replaced with great spiked barriers of black obsidian, corpses impaled upon the stone stakes or hooked onto spiked chains. The noble spire of White Gold Tower had been replaced by a great black tower, its form coated in barbs and chains.

“Blessed Emperor, no,” Alicarius breathed. “No, no, no.”

Everything he had worked for, his efforts in recovering the amulet, the battles he had fought, was gone. All of it had been destroyed. Despite everything, he had failed. And now, a world had been lost to Chaos, and it was his fault.

Yet he knew the tenets of war-whilst one soldier survived, the fight was not yet over. He was but a single man, but he was a Grey Knight, one of the greatest warriors to fight for the Emperor of Man. If he had to fight an army of daedra, so be it.

But at the moment he was weak-if he attacked the Imperial City now he would simply be killed. Much as it rankled him, he would have to withdraw and lick his wounds.

“You’ll pay for this, Dagon,” he muttered, turning away from the city and limping into the scorched grassy plains. “By the Emperor, you’ll rue the day you angered Alicarius Justinian.”

#

He found the cave within a scorch forest grove, a hollowed out pile of earth and rock that led down into the subterranean corridors below. The scorched remains of a door covered it, and a skeleton lay by the entrance, bones blackened and ashy.

He ducked low as he walked into the cave, switching his helmet to night vision, stepping carefully, storm bolter raised and ready. He was tired after his walk, and his limbs felt like iron, but there could still be daedra here and he was in no condition to fight them hand to hand.

He limped down the cave, and into a larger central chamber. There was a hissing to his left, and Alicarius turned in time to see a scamp leap at him, slashing and grabbing with its talons.

Alicarius swung at it clumsily, his fist slamming it out of the air and into the wall of the cave. The creature’s ribcage crumpled, and blood bubbled from its jaws as it tried to scramble away. Alicarius stamped down on its skull, crushing it, sending its blood and brains splattering across the stone floor.

He picked the decapitated corpse up and looked at it carefully. There was meat on there, stringy and rangy stuff, but it would be the only thing he could eat.

He glanced around the small cavern, and noticed a neatly stacked pile of wood in the corner. He dragged the wood into a pile, found some kindling and a flint, and struck the flame.

Once it was hot enough, he skinned the corpse of the scamp and propped it up over the flame. Once it was cooked, he ate. The meat was as poor as he expected, ashy and only half cooked, but compared to the drug laced stuff Erna had forced down his throat it was a feast.

He wolfed down his crude meal in moments, and temporarily sated, Alicarius lay back against the cave wall, still staying in his armour, putting his helmet on. He wanted to remove-it was beginning to stink of his blood, but he knew that if he was caught in his sleep then it would probably be his only protection.

His eyelids drifted closed, and he slumped gratefully into oblivion.

#

He walked the streets like he was an old friend of the city, each turn around the corner bringing a glimmer of recognition at some familiar sight. But despite this feeling, Alicarius knew that he had never been here before.

Each house leaned crazily into the street, the building shoving against each other as they jostled for space. A gut of lanes and alleys wound through them, bumping up and down seemingly at random. Streams ran through some streets, forming swamps within squares and all sorts of outlandish, glowing flowers poked through gaps in the paving, some topped with petals but others were topped with glowing pink crystals, or flowers shaped to look like screaming faces. It was almost as if some child had shoved the city together during a temper tantrum.

“Well,” an all too familiar voice said from behind the Astarte. “You got yourself free, I see. Well done.”

Alicarius turned, and there was Legion, reclining casually on a stone bench that the Grey Knight could have sworn wasn’t there a moment ago.

“Legion,” he said. “Come to take me while I’m vulnerable?”

The man shook his head, smiling slowly.

“Quite the opposite,” he said. “I’ve come to help you, despite what you constantly suspect of me.”

“Then get out of my head and speak to me in person,” Alicarius said. In the dreamscape, he willed his weaponry and armour into being, his halberd crackling into life, storm bolter loaded and ready to fire.

“And deprive you of sleep when you need it so desperately?” Legion said. “Do not worry. Only I can get in and out of your head, and I only did that because your mental defenses were so weakened. I have invested a great deal of time and energy in keeping you safe, and you are far too valuable to possess.”

“You have my gratitude,” Alicarius replied sarcastically. “What do you want, Legion?”

“Well, I thought you might want a bit of an update as to what happened,” Legion said. “Just in case you hadn’t guessed.”

“I guess that Mehrunes Dagon has broken through,” Alicarius said. “Am I right?”

“I’m afraid you are correct, yes,” Legion said, sighing in what seemed like genuine sympathy, leaning back on his bench. “He laid waste to the Imperial city and has sent his armies west, towards Chorrol and Anvil.”

“You mean they’re still not taken?” Alicarius asked. “So Serrio, Martin, are they-”

“Patience,” Legion said. “Patience. Yes, Serrio lives. He has led a valiant defence against the daedra so far, and he continues to do so, but it cannot last. Mehrunes Dagon has an endless amount of reinforcements, and even as my masters move against him they shall act too late to save the town, or much of Cyrodiil.”

“And what of Martin,” Alicarius asked. “What of the amulet? If the temple is not too badly damaged, we can retrieve it, relight the dragonfires and force Mehrunes Dagon back.”

Plans raced through his mind on ways to orchestrate a raid on the daedra held Imperial city, to sneak through or to storm through, distract Mehrunes with a larger army drawn from the provinces and slip in.

His brainstorming was cut short when Legion said; “I’m afraid not, Alicarius. Martin is dead, and the amulet destroyed.”

“But, how?” he asked. “You said that Dagon’s forces moved west, towards Chorrol. Cloud Ruler temple is-”

“To the North, I know,” Legion said. “He struck Cloud Ruler Temple at the same time as the Imperial City. He razed it before they even had a chance to muster a defence.”

Alicarius sighed slowly, sitting down on a short wall.

“Then I’ll go to Chorrol,” he said. “I’ll force Mehrunes Dagon away and we can muster a counterattack.”

“By the time you reach Chorrol, it will be far too late,” Legion said, shaking his head. “I could take you there, but it would attract a dangerous amount of attention; we would be torn apart as we travelled.”

“Then what do suggest I do?” Alicarius asked. “Sit idly in this cave while the daedra hunt me down.”

“Oh, quite the opposite,” Legion said. “I suggest you hunt the daedra down. And not just a specific one, either.”

“Mehrunes Dagon,” Alicarius said. “I like your plan.”

Legion smiled, replying with; “I thought you would.”

“Where is he, then?” Alicarius asked.

“In the Imperial city,” Legion said. “Commanding his forces. He carries with him a Greater Sigil stone, and that is what is allowing so many of the daedra on the earth. If you find that and destroy it, it should force the daedra back to Oblivion.”

“And where is it?” Alicarius asked.

“I believe he swallowed it,” Legion replied. “If you want it, you’re going to have to kill him.”

“Damn.”

Now that is just evil Mustard...first off you are forcing poor Allie to kill Dagon...that...does actually sound like something a Grey Knight would do, but then again the poor defenders of the Imperium doesn't know better and as such hides their foolishness by calling it bravery

Meh I follow the forces of chaos...(Iron Warriors if you must know), but the voices in my head does tell me that this is still an amazing fic and your style has much improved so go and kick Dagon's oversized behind.

PS: I see your point with the halberd...but with power fists things go...squishy...and it's such a lovable sound when things (IE: guardsmen) go squishy.

*wanders off, muttering incoherently to non existing persons*

Blimey, that was quick off the mark!

Well, you must admit Oblivion's ending is a tad anticlimactic. Not to mention the fact that, as a Grey Knight, Alicarius is practically duty bound to go and kill Mehrunes Dagon. Anyway, we both knew that that it practically had to happen.

And I'm actually a chaos player myself! Still, I'm with the Imperium as, for all its faults, it's all we've got.

And listen to those voices. They can give very fun advice.

I agree, Oblivion was pretty anticlimatic and we didn't even get to do the deed of killing Dagon ourselves. As for Oblivion itself, I love the graphics and most of the gameplay except leveled items. I don't understand why so many people whine about leveled enemies seeing as the dark brotherhood assassins at least get better as you level in Tribunal.

My biggest dislike however is Daedra weapons/armour. IT was a lot more fun in Morrowind to try and discover al of the Daedra items hidden around instead of merely picking them up from enemies as you do in Oblivion.

Anyways I'm looking forward to Dagon's imminent behing chewing and wishes Alicarius the best of luck, (thats not to say that I won't try to hunt him down with my Warsmith's 15000pts army though)

Excellent story as I've said before.

And yes the voices do say funny things, never ignore them but ignore the men in white coats...tha't what I always do

so if Martin is dead dose that mean that Alicarius will be "king" once he kicks Dagon in the rocks?

Possibly. Probably not though, as that would complicate things for Grey Hunter. A new Elder Council will probably be set up, sooner or later, though Alicarius would definitely carry some weight in it.

A very intresting story, and an intresting concept.

I never really was into Warhammer, but this is starting to turn me around on the subject.. I havent read all five pages yet so you'll have to be patient with me xD