Chapter I : Arrival

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He was standing before the golden towers, thier piping and capped tops gleaming in the early morning sunlight, the same shining brilliance that shone upon the two opposing armies all glittering silver. The study set of the Dwemer forces held the high ground, thier massive ballistas sending spears lancing into the gathered Chimer, and were anwsered with a firey hail of fireballs, that burst setting ranks of warriors alight. The golden skinned man, so stood out so prominently as the rest blurred away, looked at his companion, "What is your thought on this Vor-"

Blink. It was a different scene playing out now, strange numerals and letters slowly rolling across the back of his eyelids, a strange echoing voice began to narrate, as flicking visions of plants growing and the moon speeding by overhead began to play itself out.

"They have taken you from the Imperial City's prison,
first by carraige, and now by boat.
To the east, to Morrowind.
Fear not, for I am watchful.
You have been chosen."

He shuddered awake, and flexed his dark fingers before his eyes. The dream had been so real, he could have sworn that the dirty-gold skin was his own. At least his first nightly scene had been less disturbing than what followed, for once. The past week had been spent having this hallucinations, and waking up to the violent rocking of the sea, a burning fever and the horrendous odor of the little hold that the Imperials had saw fit to cram himself and a brother dumner into. His compatriot in the real world here, he was ignorant about as the bronzed one in the dreams. Nonetheless, there was no humility or akward moments to waste as he had spent the past days dying in this cess pit, and the gravelly voice reminded him of home.

"Hey, you were having a nightmare. Lucky to have survived a fever like that." The man began, "Juib," He extended a calloused hand, "And what's your name?" "Bhran Indoril." Was the terse reply, the sights of the night fading from memory as they began to speak. Finding space was a tad difficult in the hold, but Bhran managed to yank a, mostly intact, box out from a rotting pile of them, and Juib settled for turning over a broken cask and resting against that. They discussed everything over the next few hours, what had brought them here, theft for Juib and assault for Bhran, where they were headed, Juib seemed to have a fair idea, and life in general. Not that life in the nary visited prisonship was much of a interesting subject, and silence was just settling in as the heavy thumps of the guard rebervated through the hull.

Thier jailor, a heavy set Imperial with the broken capillaries around his nose indicating his favorite travelling pasttime, stood in the doorway and sneered his contempt. "You." He pointed a beefy finger at Bhran, "Come with me." Waving a quick fairwell to his fellow prisoner, he left the older, one eyed, dumner there and traced the steps of the guard up onto the deck. "Let's keep this civilized." Was a final muttered warning, before, with a liesurely step, the white skinned man left, leaving him with a Redguard clad in chainmail, who ushered him toward the rickety dock.

"Ah, you've finally arrived, but our records don't show from where..." The newest of the three guards so far was a Breton, a head shorter than Bhran himself, but with the thick steel curiass of the Imperial Legion on, the shorter man was still the intimidator here. "Morrowind. The mainland." Came the dunmer's reply after a moment, the Breton grunted an affirmation, plainly only doing this for proceedure's sake. "Well, come along. Thier expecting you."

Looking out across the glassy smooth waters of the Inner Sea, back to where his estates of House Indoril lie somewhere past the horizon, he let out a tired sigh, and opened the rotting wooden door into the Census Office.

Chapter 1, Cont'd ...

The ocean wash was audible even in the wood-and-plaster Imperial building, and the room felt claustrophobic, even to Bhran who had spent the past week cramped in the hold of a ship, ashy rings on the ceiling above laterns that flickered with poor quality oils, and the noxious fumes of a 'spice' candle set upon the table let off a burning smell of cinnomin. Thankfully, that fiery scent covered the faint odor of the old Imperial, easily going into his seventies with loosening skin, liver spots and a balding crown. "Ah, there you are. We've been expecting you."

Bhran frowned, Expecting me? Why wou... "Now, would you mind filling out these forms?" The dumner took them, and slid out the little stool. The paper sat well on the smooth table, but there was hardly room next to the dratted candle for him to scratch out and write in the legistration in his smooth script. It was something he was proud of, his elegant pen strokes making a pattern across the page, and soon he had fallen into the rythem of script, scribing his way down the page almost thoughtlessly and it was quickly finished. The old man's hand was cold, the warmth of life leeched away by his long years, as it accepted the pen and parchment back, the human's eyes were as sharp as a crow's despite the quiver in his hands, scanning the page.

"Hm, hm, hm..." A spattered signature bismirched the form, and then it was rolled and sealed with a thick red wax stamp. "You don't know what's ahead, do you?" Bhran looked up from the release papers, "What?" But the moment was gone, and the census official's eyes were back to being the unfocused rhuemy gaze of an octogenarian. "Well, on you go."

The guard opened the door for him wordlessly, the stern gaze remaining locked forward, though the dull gleam of the legionairre's eyes showed just how far from this spot he was. Bhran left, an uneasy disquiet was upon him though, and as he entered the next room it receded, the passage of time doing to it's want and fogging memory though he would find those words again, in his future. For the present, he pilfered the rusty iron dagger from the table, and gave the note pinned beneath a once over before discarding it onto the floor. The stunted little blade wasn't well balanced, and it lacked the reach he preferred, but how likely was an ex-prisoner to obtain a fine blade in any case?

The little dining hall opened into a roofless courtyard, though no garden grew here and the ground was a muddy slop from the solid trod of armour-clad guards. A quick crack of a rainbarrel lid came with unexpected rewards, a simple ring that shone with the faint energy of an enchantment, and a few gilded coins that found his pockets in an abrupt manner. The next door was as ill-maintained as the first, but the man on the other side certainly wasn't. Burnished gold plating, broad shoulders encased in edged pauldrons, and a flat-top hair cut, he looked every inch the stoic legion captain.

Silver,Silver,Silver,,,,you never fail to impress me....even that "I Found A Dragon"mess..i find your story to be amusing...good job

Amazing