Prologue
I kneeled before Emperor Pelagius, we all did. The year was 4E 575. He had come to greet the Imperial Legion’s soon-to-be soldiers in Morrowind. The Great Houses were back to their former power, thanks to Divayth Fyr’s work to restore it to what it was before Lie Rock hit.
The cities were gone, but some were rebuilt. We were going to Morrowind, to defend against the Argonians who were trying to take it again. I was one of the battle-mages to be going to Vvardenfell.
Pelagius stated, “You are the Empire’s Finest. The Marsh Knights as they call themselves try yet again to take Morrowind. Some of you will go to the Main Land to defend against their forces; others will go to Vvardenfell to keep order.”
“Listen up, soldiers,” Knight of the Dragon Trask Gro-Tralog barked. “Once we win this war and the Marsh Knights are captured, we’re all coming back here to Cyrodiil as war heroes.”
We all cheered and raised our blades with enthusiasm. About five-thousand of us stood in the streets of the Imperial City at the Palace District. We wore suits of Imperial-Steel Armor, while the officers wore suits of Templar Armor made from ebony, but painted to be gold.
After the Emperor left, my friend, Saraya smiled, “You looking forward to going to your homeland, you Ashen-Born son of a vampire?” Her smile revealed brilliant white teeth. She was an Imperial raised in Elsewyr, which made it strange her teeth were so clean due to all the sugar.
“Do khajiit smoke Skooma?” I asked rhetorically. Saraya smiled at me gently. We had known each other since we enlisted five years ago. She was my bunk mate and she was one in a million of friends.
“Kalarn,” she sighed with a grin. “You always mock Khajiits. Did one of those mean khajiits get your tongue when you were little?”
I simply chuckled, “Funny, now I need to go.” I walked away, wading through the streets of the Imperial City. Hundreds of people looked at me, some saluted, some scowled, and others paid no notice. I was a hero at least to some. The Marsh Knights hated all Dunmer.
The moon rose and the streets emptied. In an alley, I noticed a young Breton girl casting a spell and a Skooma pipe lighting up. A tear burned my eyes, another life lost to the drug.
Imperium Tong twenty-five years ago had a lot of it in the circulation, and then some Bosmer single-handedly took them out with the help of an Argonian and a khajiit. At least that’s what the history books said.
I found myself crawling to a tavern, it was warmly, quiet, and tranquil. The Tavern Keeper smiled. An aging imperial dressed in a blue shirt and black pants smiled. “Can I get a room?”
He nodded and as I pulled out my coin-purse, “Sorry, Soldier. Your money’s no good here. The bed is upstairs to the left, here’s the key.” I snatched the key and headed up the stairs to blissful sleep.
Tomorrow, Vvardenfell awaited me. Champion Kalarn Dralas of the Imperial Legion. Five years ago, I was just a recruit, but my outstanding duty has earned me a position right below the Knights.
My mind faded into the dream world. Vaermina’s realm...
Full Version: Blood and Corruption
I am gonna love this. Marsh Knights sound great, good prologue. set after the oblivion crisis, right?
Nice start. Your hero seems to have some depth that makes for an interesting read. Looking forward to this. 
QUOTE
some Bosmer single-handedly took them out with the help of an Argonian and a khajiit.
Ahah - Nice nod to Minx, Quick-Strike and J'Skooma.
I have to agree with Acadian - really nice start - and I love the reference to my fave characters!
This has a lot of promise. Interesting characters, a set up that provides some context- but also leaves some questions.... It will be interesting to follow Kalarn's story
Hazmick, this is almost six-hundred years later.
Treydog, it's intentional that I leave questions. If you know every secret about him, why read?
Treydog, it's intentional that I leave questions. If you know every secret about him, why read?
Chapter One: Voyage to Vvardenfell
I awoke to the innkeeper nudging my shoulder. “Sir, the sun is rising, I have prepared potatoes and venison for you to enjoy,” he stated. “I hope you do.” I simply nodded as I started to don my armor.
I walked down the stairs and a feast awaited me. “Master-Soldier, enjoy the meal. You’ll need a full stomach to fight against the Marsh Knights,” the Innkeeper said calmly. “I wish I could fight, but alas my daughter lives out in Weye.”
“Well I do thank you for this wonderful meal, Sir,” I managed to say between mouthfuls. It exploded with flavor when it hit my tongue. The man shouldn’t run a tavern; he should be the Emperor’s personal chef.
Several minutes later, I finished my meal and walked out. That’s where it happened. People walked by the spot left-and-right, uncaring of the events that occurred. I killed an innocent Argonian there. Even worse, I was given a promotion for it.
The Argonian stood there shouting, “The Legion needs to stop this war. The Marsh Knights fight in defense.”
“Be silent, Sympathizer.”
“You can’t silence me; I am one voice of many.”
“You’ll be silent or you’ll rot in prison.”
He just chuckled. I swung, deep. I can still see the deep laceration gushing blood and the Argonian on the ground. He died in cold blood; I didn’t have to kill him. However, the guards saw me do it and my commander, Knight-Protector White-Raven.
I finally reached the Waterfront after hours of walking through the people. Large warships filled the docks. Saraya looked at me and giggled girlishly. She wore a suit of black-leather armor with a hooded, black cloak. Across her back was a quiver filled with arrows and in her hands was a bow. “Finally made it, Battle-Mage?” She laughed. “You look like you just went through Oblivion and back.”
I looked in the water, my hair was a mess. “I thought you were a soldier?” I asked. “Why the special outfit?”
“This? I’m a Nightblade, Kalarn. I thought you knew I was a trained Nightblade,” she chuckled. “Besides, Champion you need us.”
“You kill the Marsh Knight leader and I’ll make sure you take my position.”
“We don’t even know who their leader is yet.”
“Everyone get on the ships, we’re heading for Vvardenfell,” Trask ordered. We each marched on ships. We were told to go to the lower levels of the ship for our rooms; the Knights got the upper ones.
As usual, Saraya and I got rooms right next to each other. Hundreds of men boarded each ship. Yet, it felt like a ghost ship. Desolate. I lied down on my hammock, letting sleep take my mind.
My dream was strange. I was sitting in the Ruined City talking to an Argonian and a Khajiit. The Argonian wore black-leather armor and had a black, hooded cloak. The Khajiit wore tattered gray robes and white fur with black stripes.
“Kalarn Dralas, I am Quick-Strike,” the Argonian stated. “Vvardenfell awaits, Kalarn. But your destiny doesn’t lie in Vvardenfell.”
“What’re you talking about?” I asked. “I’m just a soldier.”
“We’ll see… We’ll see…”
I awoke to the innkeeper nudging my shoulder. “Sir, the sun is rising, I have prepared potatoes and venison for you to enjoy,” he stated. “I hope you do.” I simply nodded as I started to don my armor.
I walked down the stairs and a feast awaited me. “Master-Soldier, enjoy the meal. You’ll need a full stomach to fight against the Marsh Knights,” the Innkeeper said calmly. “I wish I could fight, but alas my daughter lives out in Weye.”
“Well I do thank you for this wonderful meal, Sir,” I managed to say between mouthfuls. It exploded with flavor when it hit my tongue. The man shouldn’t run a tavern; he should be the Emperor’s personal chef.
Several minutes later, I finished my meal and walked out. That’s where it happened. People walked by the spot left-and-right, uncaring of the events that occurred. I killed an innocent Argonian there. Even worse, I was given a promotion for it.
The Argonian stood there shouting, “The Legion needs to stop this war. The Marsh Knights fight in defense.”
“Be silent, Sympathizer.”
“You can’t silence me; I am one voice of many.”
“You’ll be silent or you’ll rot in prison.”
He just chuckled. I swung, deep. I can still see the deep laceration gushing blood and the Argonian on the ground. He died in cold blood; I didn’t have to kill him. However, the guards saw me do it and my commander, Knight-Protector White-Raven.
I finally reached the Waterfront after hours of walking through the people. Large warships filled the docks. Saraya looked at me and giggled girlishly. She wore a suit of black-leather armor with a hooded, black cloak. Across her back was a quiver filled with arrows and in her hands was a bow. “Finally made it, Battle-Mage?” She laughed. “You look like you just went through Oblivion and back.”
I looked in the water, my hair was a mess. “I thought you were a soldier?” I asked. “Why the special outfit?”
“This? I’m a Nightblade, Kalarn. I thought you knew I was a trained Nightblade,” she chuckled. “Besides, Champion you need us.”
“You kill the Marsh Knight leader and I’ll make sure you take my position.”
“We don’t even know who their leader is yet.”
“Everyone get on the ships, we’re heading for Vvardenfell,” Trask ordered. We each marched on ships. We were told to go to the lower levels of the ship for our rooms; the Knights got the upper ones.
As usual, Saraya and I got rooms right next to each other. Hundreds of men boarded each ship. Yet, it felt like a ghost ship. Desolate. I lied down on my hammock, letting sleep take my mind.
My dream was strange. I was sitting in the Ruined City talking to an Argonian and a Khajiit. The Argonian wore black-leather armor and had a black, hooded cloak. The Khajiit wore tattered gray robes and white fur with black stripes.
“Kalarn Dralas, I am Quick-Strike,” the Argonian stated. “Vvardenfell awaits, Kalarn. But your destiny doesn’t lie in Vvardenfell.”
“What’re you talking about?” I asked. “I’m just a soldier.”
“We’ll see… We’ll see…”
ooh, another good chapter. We can see small parts of your characters past rising to the surface here, it's very interesting.
I have to agree with Hazmick, this chapter was very clean. You perked interest and had the right amount of description and detail - great write!
Nice. I see a revealing flashback. Also what appears to be some foreshadowing by our old friends - the ones with tails.
Chapter Two: Nightmares
When we reached Vvardenfell, a smile came over my face. The once desolate Ashland was now a gargantuan jungle of many different types of flora. After Red Mountain exploded, it nearly destroyed Morrowind, but it survived and flourished.
Standing at the New Ebonheart Docks was Knight of the Dragon, Kristopher Myre. The Imperial wore a suit of polished ebony armor and a long, black cape flowed behind him. When we docked, I crawled off the ship, eager to enjoy Vvardenfell.
The Argonian from my dreams stood several paces east of Kristopher Myre. He stared at me and I could almost feel his gaze bite into my flesh. Myre walked aboard and saw us standing in our armor, “Welcome to Vvardenfell. Before Red Mountain exploded, Vvardenfell was an ashy wasteland. Now, you’ll die just as fast from the predators.”
He jerked off his closed helm and pointed to his left eye. His left eye was covered by an eye patch. “That’s from a Kwama Worker when I was ordered to kill a queen because it was diseased. That’s one of the lighter wounds I’ve gotten during my time here. If you’re not careful, I’ll send you home in a coffin.”
“Sir,” one of the recruits asked. “I thought Kwama were peaceful and not very aggressive.”
“That was before Red Mountain exploded. The Jungle changed everything here. Everything.”
“Sir,” another recruit asked. “Where will be stationed?”
“You’ll most likely go to different places. Also, vampires are still in Vvardenfell. They may be rarer, but they’re still here.”
We all nodded. “Head to the Barracks so you can get some sleep,” he ordered.
Like good little pets, we marched to the beds. The blanket covered me, but left my feet to freeze. The pillow was a flour-bag and my mattress was stuffed with hay. I let my mind fall into the world of dreams…
It was strange and nightmarish. Huge crevices opened as I ran. Children, the old, the sickly, they all were too slow to escape. The Argonian and a furry-white khajiit ran with me. I saw Nirn from space, as if I was a god. Tamriel was hastily splitting apart.
There was a cataclysm occurring. I awoke in the middle of the night soaked in sweat. The Argonian sat by my bed and asked, “What’s wrong, Kalarn?”
“How did you get in here?” I snapped. “This is the Barracks.”
“You dreamt it too. About Nirn.”
“Yes. I’m glad it was just a dream.”
“It’s more than just that. We shared a dream, I’m centuries old, you’re barely in your first century. We need to leave, now. We need to stop this from happening.”
“How are we going to do that, Quick-Strike?”
“A very good question. However, I have a feeling my companion, J’skooma knows of a prophecy of some sort.” I donned my armor as he spoke.
Blue flames consumed us, but it didn’t hurt as we were teleported. “J’skooma, that dream we had. Do you know of any prophecies about it?” Quick-Strike asked.
“No. J’skooma is scared. The only way J’skooma thinks we can stop it is to stop who’s doing it.”
“There’s only one wizard on Nirn powerful enough to do this other than J’skooma. Divayth Fyr. We have to kill him.”
My jaw dropped, “How about Mannimarco and Akatosh while we’re at it?”
“It won’t be easy, but it must be done.” The bitter winds of Vvardenfell blew against my flesh, past the cracks in my armor. I felt beads of sweat drip down my cheeks.
“Any plans? Nobody has heard from Divayth Fyr since Red Mountain erupted.”
“We’ll find him,” Quick-Strike said confidently…
When we reached Vvardenfell, a smile came over my face. The once desolate Ashland was now a gargantuan jungle of many different types of flora. After Red Mountain exploded, it nearly destroyed Morrowind, but it survived and flourished.
Standing at the New Ebonheart Docks was Knight of the Dragon, Kristopher Myre. The Imperial wore a suit of polished ebony armor and a long, black cape flowed behind him. When we docked, I crawled off the ship, eager to enjoy Vvardenfell.
The Argonian from my dreams stood several paces east of Kristopher Myre. He stared at me and I could almost feel his gaze bite into my flesh. Myre walked aboard and saw us standing in our armor, “Welcome to Vvardenfell. Before Red Mountain exploded, Vvardenfell was an ashy wasteland. Now, you’ll die just as fast from the predators.”
He jerked off his closed helm and pointed to his left eye. His left eye was covered by an eye patch. “That’s from a Kwama Worker when I was ordered to kill a queen because it was diseased. That’s one of the lighter wounds I’ve gotten during my time here. If you’re not careful, I’ll send you home in a coffin.”
“Sir,” one of the recruits asked. “I thought Kwama were peaceful and not very aggressive.”
“That was before Red Mountain exploded. The Jungle changed everything here. Everything.”
“Sir,” another recruit asked. “Where will be stationed?”
“You’ll most likely go to different places. Also, vampires are still in Vvardenfell. They may be rarer, but they’re still here.”
We all nodded. “Head to the Barracks so you can get some sleep,” he ordered.
Like good little pets, we marched to the beds. The blanket covered me, but left my feet to freeze. The pillow was a flour-bag and my mattress was stuffed with hay. I let my mind fall into the world of dreams…
It was strange and nightmarish. Huge crevices opened as I ran. Children, the old, the sickly, they all were too slow to escape. The Argonian and a furry-white khajiit ran with me. I saw Nirn from space, as if I was a god. Tamriel was hastily splitting apart.
There was a cataclysm occurring. I awoke in the middle of the night soaked in sweat. The Argonian sat by my bed and asked, “What’s wrong, Kalarn?”
“How did you get in here?” I snapped. “This is the Barracks.”
“You dreamt it too. About Nirn.”
“Yes. I’m glad it was just a dream.”
“It’s more than just that. We shared a dream, I’m centuries old, you’re barely in your first century. We need to leave, now. We need to stop this from happening.”
“How are we going to do that, Quick-Strike?”
“A very good question. However, I have a feeling my companion, J’skooma knows of a prophecy of some sort.” I donned my armor as he spoke.
Blue flames consumed us, but it didn’t hurt as we were teleported. “J’skooma, that dream we had. Do you know of any prophecies about it?” Quick-Strike asked.
“No. J’skooma is scared. The only way J’skooma thinks we can stop it is to stop who’s doing it.”
“There’s only one wizard on Nirn powerful enough to do this other than J’skooma. Divayth Fyr. We have to kill him.”
My jaw dropped, “How about Mannimarco and Akatosh while we’re at it?”
“It won’t be easy, but it must be done.” The bitter winds of Vvardenfell blew against my flesh, past the cracks in my armor. I felt beads of sweat drip down my cheeks.
“Any plans? Nobody has heard from Divayth Fyr since Red Mountain erupted.”
“We’ll find him,” Quick-Strike said confidently…
A strange dream is the best way to start an adventure 
I'm looking forward to learning more about 'New Vvardenfell', Quick-Strike and J'Skooma in the future.
I'm looking forward to learning more about 'New Vvardenfell', Quick-Strike and J'Skooma in the future.
Woo Hoo! I am intrigued by the shared dream - and Divayth Fyr !!!!!! This story has got to be the best yet, your creative ideas for stories just never quits !!!!!
‘Strike and J’Cat are back! At least this time they have to take out a character that is closer to their own age! Honestly by now you could hardly blame them if they just decided to kill everyone to keep from having to clean up Tamriel every hundred years or so. They must spend eternity feeling like underpaid garbage-men (sorry . . . sanitation workers).
Even though Quick Strike has already told Kalarn that his destiny doesn’t lie in Vvardenfell, I am hoping that we get to see more of it. The changes hinted at in the aftermath of the explosion of Red Mountain are too intriguing not to explore. What does a Kwama Worker even look like now? And I bet the Cliff Racers are nothing to sneeze at! I almost 'pulled a Buffy' the first time I saw a Kagouti. Now they must be positively feral.
More please.
Honestly by now you could hardly blame them if they just decided to kill everyone to keep from having to clean up Tamriel every hundred years or so. They must spend eternity feeling like underpaid garbage-men (sorry . . . sanitation workers). Even though Quick Strike has already told Kalarn that his destiny doesn’t lie in Vvardenfell, I am hoping that we get to see more of it. The changes hinted at in the aftermath of the explosion of Red Mountain are too intriguing not to explore. What does a Kwama Worker even look like now? And I bet the Cliff Racers are nothing to sneeze at! I almost 'pulled a Buffy' the first time I saw a Kagouti. Now they must be positively feral.
More please.
So Vvardenfell is different, but just as dangerous. Those kwama workers sound pretty dangerous!
Nice to see QS and JsK with another knight to show the ropes to.
Nits:
Nice to see QS and JsK with another knight to show the ropes to.
Nits:
QUOTE
He jerked off his closed helm and pointed to his left eye. His left eye was covered by an eye patch.
I would avoid so many eyes in close proximity. Perhaps: 'He jerked off his closed helm and pointed to his left eye. It was covered by a patch.'QUOTE
“Sir,” another recruit asked. “Where will be stationed?”
I think perhaps you meant where will we be stationed?
Thanks, Acadian. A Kwama Worker? Remember, this is the head of the military on Vvardenfell (and Morrowind). And he's got that wound from a Worker. Let's not forget warriors, guys.
I hope you guys like New Vvardenfell. Mt Saint Helens erupted and now it's all nice. Like Vvardenfell is, but Vvardenfell has had several centuries, not two decades. Will we see some of the horrors of Vvardenfell? A worker nearly killed one of the world's best swordsman. Let's see what a pack of nix-hounds can do or an alit
I fear for Kalarn, though. If he fails, then Tamriel and Nirn is royally <censored by Zalphon>. Hopefully he succeeds.
I hope you guys like New Vvardenfell. Mt Saint Helens erupted and now it's all nice. Like Vvardenfell is, but Vvardenfell has had several centuries, not two decades. Will we see some of the horrors of Vvardenfell? A worker nearly killed one of the world's best swordsman. Let's see what a pack of nix-hounds can do or an alit
I fear for Kalarn, though. If he fails, then Tamriel and Nirn is royally <censored by Zalphon>. Hopefully he succeeds.
Chapter Three: Divayth’s Tower
J’skooma teleported me with a spell to the Tower of Divayth Fyr as the sun rose. He and Quick-Strike would search for information from their contacts. The Khajiit didn’t remember where the tower was, while it was within distance of sight, it was the better part of a mile away.
I heard a screech. A burning screech that nearly shattered my ear-drums that came from above, most likely from a bird. I scanned the skies and saw something horrible. A shadow of something hovered. Like a cliff-racer from before the burst.
For several minutes I walked, sure that it was something strange. A sharp shard of bone attached to a scaly tail whipped my cuirass. The shadow was much closer, just above me in fact. It was attacking me!
I slashed at it and transparent black blood emitted from the laceration. I shoved my blade into the throat of the shadow and it fell down. Upon closer inspection I realized something. It was a cliff-racer.
I raised a brow in curiosity on how it changed. For the next twenty minutes following, it was peaceful. The door was locked, but I knocked it. Eerily it opened and there stood a specter of an old Dunmer woman in a suit of armor. “I am the youngest of the fallen guardians of Lord Fyr’s tower. I will carve your flesh if you don’t leave this plae, it’s not meant for the likes of you,” it ordered.
“Get out of my way,” I growled. “I need to search the tower.” The Dunmer sighed and drug her hand down her face. She drew a spectral sword and swung at me.
I dodged and drew my silver long-sword. I slashed at the ghost, but it parried. It lunged at me, but I riposted accordingly and it coughed up some ectoplasm. “Y-you defeated me, the Youngest of the Fyr Sisters. You’ll never plunder our treasures, Mortal.” It faded into the after-life.
The victory of defeating her was minute. I walked down the ramp to another room. Tunnels now. Corpses lined the walls; huge, mutated corpses. I couldn’t tell what gender they were, they looked very asexual.
A note was on the ground. It read something strange. It wasn’t written in Tamrielic, it was written in Aldmeris.
“Thare,
My daughters are dead, because of a marauder who came through here. I want you to protect my treasures above for when I come back. Especially the Tome of…” I couldn’t read the rest.
I rushed up the stairs, eager to discover the Tome. Three Dunmer Female Specters and a skeleton of an Orc surrounded me. Fear consumed me…
J’skooma teleported me with a spell to the Tower of Divayth Fyr as the sun rose. He and Quick-Strike would search for information from their contacts. The Khajiit didn’t remember where the tower was, while it was within distance of sight, it was the better part of a mile away.
I heard a screech. A burning screech that nearly shattered my ear-drums that came from above, most likely from a bird. I scanned the skies and saw something horrible. A shadow of something hovered. Like a cliff-racer from before the burst.
For several minutes I walked, sure that it was something strange. A sharp shard of bone attached to a scaly tail whipped my cuirass. The shadow was much closer, just above me in fact. It was attacking me!
I slashed at it and transparent black blood emitted from the laceration. I shoved my blade into the throat of the shadow and it fell down. Upon closer inspection I realized something. It was a cliff-racer.
I raised a brow in curiosity on how it changed. For the next twenty minutes following, it was peaceful. The door was locked, but I knocked it. Eerily it opened and there stood a specter of an old Dunmer woman in a suit of armor. “I am the youngest of the fallen guardians of Lord Fyr’s tower. I will carve your flesh if you don’t leave this plae, it’s not meant for the likes of you,” it ordered.
“Get out of my way,” I growled. “I need to search the tower.” The Dunmer sighed and drug her hand down her face. She drew a spectral sword and swung at me.
I dodged and drew my silver long-sword. I slashed at the ghost, but it parried. It lunged at me, but I riposted accordingly and it coughed up some ectoplasm. “Y-you defeated me, the Youngest of the Fyr Sisters. You’ll never plunder our treasures, Mortal.” It faded into the after-life.
The victory of defeating her was minute. I walked down the ramp to another room. Tunnels now. Corpses lined the walls; huge, mutated corpses. I couldn’t tell what gender they were, they looked very asexual.
A note was on the ground. It read something strange. It wasn’t written in Tamrielic, it was written in Aldmeris.
“Thare,
My daughters are dead, because of a marauder who came through here. I want you to protect my treasures above for when I come back. Especially the Tome of…” I couldn’t read the rest.
I rushed up the stairs, eager to discover the Tome. Three Dunmer Female Specters and a skeleton of an Orc surrounded me. Fear consumed me…
Uh-oh. Shadow Racers.
Tome of. . . a mystery!
Now surrounded by green ghosts - a cliffhanger!
Tome of. . . a mystery!
Now surrounded by green ghosts - a cliffhanger!
QUOTE(Acadian @ Sep 10 2010, 10:23 PM) 
Uh-oh. Shadow Racers.
Tome of. . . a mystery!
Now surrounded by green ghosts - a cliffhanger!
I have to agree with Acadian on that being a real quotable place! Very intriguing!
Sorry it has been so long lately. I've been busy with school and stuff. I'll try to post again soon.
QUOTE(Zalphon @ Sep 21 2010, 09:18 PM)
Sorry it has been so long lately. I've been busy with school and stuff. I'll try to post again soon.
That's all right Zalphon! Until you get into the swing of the new school year/homework/etc. it is better to make it a priority than all of us waiting from the cliffhanger you left us on !!!! JUST KIDDING !!!!!!
Thanks, Z for checking in and letting us know what's going on. We'll wait, and you'll be back!
I'm also writing a short story for the school literary journal (an actual book of stories and stuff), it's called "Dementia." Once I finish, I'll post it for all who want to read. I want it to be at least 40 pages long.
Edit: But before I'm tarred and feathered, I'm only working on it at lunch and during my spare time at school!
Edit: But before I'm tarred and feathered, I'm only working on it at lunch and during my spare time at school!
Chapter Four: Discovery and Despair
The ghosts had their blades drawn. I looked around and the tallest Dunmer hissed, “What is it that you seek, Marauder?” Her voice was acid on steel, sizzling with rage from the intensity of the situation.
“I seek the location of Lord Fyr, I must speak to him.”
She laughed, “Divayth would never let us tell you of his journey.”
“Tell me or we’ll brandish blades,” I threatened. Attacking a specter? Not my most brilliant plan. She looked at me with a risen brow and handed me a scroll. It was musty and old, tied by a red ribbon.
I opened the ancient parchment and it read,
“Dearest Daughters,
I leave for Aldmeris on this day; I must discover the secrets of our ancestors. The ancient elves hold many secrets from mere mortals; however, they can’t hide from me. Guard my tower with your lives, for it is your home now.
Remember that it was once my home and it is now yours. My library is yours to research, my treasures are yours, but remember one day I may return. If the tower falls, then fall protecting it, for that is your task my daughters.
Sincerely,
Divayth Fyr”
The lady drew her blade, “Leave the tower and never return. You’ll never find our lord anyway.”
The Orc-Spirit led me to the door and there stood an Argonian and next to him laid a sleeping Khajiit. I handed Quick-Strike the scroll and he looked at it in amazement. “Aldmeris?”
“Yes, the land of the Aldmer, the ancient elves,” I stated. “We have to find it and stop Fyr, or else Nirn will be lost. If the land shatters, then I fear that Nirn will become a wasteland.”
“Aldmeris, how would we find that,” I asked myself mentally.
“You’re right,” The Argonian responded as he paced. “When dawn comes, we head for the seas and search for Aldmeris…”
A few weeks ago, I was a soldier of the Empire, now I’m a hero trying to stop Divayth Fyr from shattering Tamriel. My life is changing, a lot.
The ghosts had their blades drawn. I looked around and the tallest Dunmer hissed, “What is it that you seek, Marauder?” Her voice was acid on steel, sizzling with rage from the intensity of the situation.
“I seek the location of Lord Fyr, I must speak to him.”
She laughed, “Divayth would never let us tell you of his journey.”
“Tell me or we’ll brandish blades,” I threatened. Attacking a specter? Not my most brilliant plan. She looked at me with a risen brow and handed me a scroll. It was musty and old, tied by a red ribbon.
I opened the ancient parchment and it read,
“Dearest Daughters,
I leave for Aldmeris on this day; I must discover the secrets of our ancestors. The ancient elves hold many secrets from mere mortals; however, they can’t hide from me. Guard my tower with your lives, for it is your home now.
Remember that it was once my home and it is now yours. My library is yours to research, my treasures are yours, but remember one day I may return. If the tower falls, then fall protecting it, for that is your task my daughters.
Sincerely,
Divayth Fyr”
The lady drew her blade, “Leave the tower and never return. You’ll never find our lord anyway.”
The Orc-Spirit led me to the door and there stood an Argonian and next to him laid a sleeping Khajiit. I handed Quick-Strike the scroll and he looked at it in amazement. “Aldmeris?”
“Yes, the land of the Aldmer, the ancient elves,” I stated. “We have to find it and stop Fyr, or else Nirn will be lost. If the land shatters, then I fear that Nirn will become a wasteland.”
“Aldmeris, how would we find that,” I asked myself mentally.
“You’re right,” The Argonian responded as he paced. “When dawn comes, we head for the seas and search for Aldmeris…”
A few weeks ago, I was a soldier of the Empire, now I’m a hero trying to stop Divayth Fyr from shattering Tamriel. My life is changing, a lot.
My fave part in this is the letter from Divayth Fyr - you did an Awesome job on that !!!!! Natural and very in character to him !!!!
My goodness. This episode is some your finest writing, Zalphon. I'm amazed at how far you have come! Your opening paragraph is marvelous. I like that you are fully utilizing the first person POV to include your hero's observations to himself.
I agree with Acadian. All of this was good, but that first sentence: Her voice was acid on steel, sizzling with rage from the intensity of the situation . . . fantastic!
Thanks guys
Chapter Five: Aboard the Dragon’s Moon
I awoke in a captain’s cabin. I had a bed that was warm. Around me were books and chests. I took a step outside the cabin and the aroma of the sea hit me in the face, as well as the mystic winds of the ocean.
J’skooma was nowhere to be seen, but Quick-Strike stood by the side of the ship. He stared at the sea and whispered something. The sea was calm, yet the boat still moved. Animated oars moved freely to push the boat forward.
“So, you’re awake,” he said as I walked over to him. “Divayth hides in Aldmeris, but we must find him. Kalarn, when we reach Aldmeris you’re to stay close to me.”
“Why? I can fight Fyr, better than you can anyway,” I responded arrogantly. “Quick-Strike, my life has become much more confusing since I met you.”
The Argonian looked at me with an angry expression. Rare to see an Argonian show emotion, especially this one. “You must trust me, Dunmer. I have lived to see much more than you, I know Fyr’s power.”
Black flames surrounded us and instantaneously, we were teleported somewhere. But where? We saw a man in the Imperial City. He was covered in black clothing, black robes, a black hood, black boots, and even black gloves. “The Master has been reborn, all shall fall before his might,” the man yelled. “You shall all become mere thralls to him.”
He pulled out a Dunmer’s head; he held it by a white top-knot. Quick-Strike whispered, “Fyr’s head.”
“The beginning of the end is coming, mortals. Nirn shall see a new ruler, the Rise of the Master is just beginning,” the Harbinger screamed. People were stunned as they watched him.
The man whispered under his breath and disappeared in Black Flame. I fell to the ground and then everything went black as I hit it…
I awoke in a captain’s cabin. I had a bed that was warm. Around me were books and chests. I took a step outside the cabin and the aroma of the sea hit me in the face, as well as the mystic winds of the ocean.
J’skooma was nowhere to be seen, but Quick-Strike stood by the side of the ship. He stared at the sea and whispered something. The sea was calm, yet the boat still moved. Animated oars moved freely to push the boat forward.
“So, you’re awake,” he said as I walked over to him. “Divayth hides in Aldmeris, but we must find him. Kalarn, when we reach Aldmeris you’re to stay close to me.”
“Why? I can fight Fyr, better than you can anyway,” I responded arrogantly. “Quick-Strike, my life has become much more confusing since I met you.”
The Argonian looked at me with an angry expression. Rare to see an Argonian show emotion, especially this one. “You must trust me, Dunmer. I have lived to see much more than you, I know Fyr’s power.”
Black flames surrounded us and instantaneously, we were teleported somewhere. But where? We saw a man in the Imperial City. He was covered in black clothing, black robes, a black hood, black boots, and even black gloves. “The Master has been reborn, all shall fall before his might,” the man yelled. “You shall all become mere thralls to him.”
He pulled out a Dunmer’s head; he held it by a white top-knot. Quick-Strike whispered, “Fyr’s head.”
“The beginning of the end is coming, mortals. Nirn shall see a new ruler, the Rise of the Master is just beginning,” the Harbinger screamed. People were stunned as they watched him.
The man whispered under his breath and disappeared in Black Flame. I fell to the ground and then everything went black as I hit it…
Poor QS. His young charges never seem to learn. . . .
Methinks I smell necromancy afoot!
Methinks I smell necromancy afoot!
It seems that Quick-Strike has overestimated Divayth’s power by a tad . . .
The good news is that at least they no longer need to make the trip to Aldmeris!
The good news is that at least they no longer need to make the trip to Aldmeris!
Divayth Fyr, we knew you well... You cured our corprus, made us cry, and let us steal your booty.
I really hated killing him off, but he's got a lot more to do with this story... At least he's gone, right?
I really hated killing him off, but he's got a lot more to do with this story... At least he's gone, right?
I'm in tears over poor Divayth's head...GAAAAH!
Chapter Six: Knight-Captain Raynil Sarethi
I awoke in a small shack. A cold breeze blew against my bare chest as I sat up. The cold, dirt floor was just as bitter as the winds. “You awaken,” Quick-Strike stated after a moment. “You’ve been asleep for three nights, ever since that follower of their Master arrived.”
“Why are we in some shack?” I questioned. “What’s wrong?” My voice was inquisitive and probing, but I needed to be. I was so stressed, my muscles were tightened.
“We still don’t know who the Master is,” Quick-Strike stated. “However, his followers have been attacking Morrowind. The Imperial Legion has already been exterminated from Vvardenfell.”
I raised a brow coolly, “How?”
Quick-Strike’s voice was gloomy, “I don’t know, yet. But we need to make haste before the sun rises.”
I nodded and donned my armor. The heavy plate mail was restrictive for a few moments, but I quickly adjusted. We walked for several hours, until we saw a fort, however, it wasn’t abandoned. Armed knights patrolled and archers lined the walls.
A woman in black clothing walked out. She wore a black tunic, black pants, black boots, black gloves, a black cloak with a hood, and a black face mask. “Leave or be slain, Mortal,” she hissed. Her voice was as sharp as a sword.
“What is a private army doing with a fort?” I asked curiously. “Who funded you?”
She pulled out her blades, two short swords, both blacker than night. Quick-Strike’s blades lunged at her, cutting into her breast. “Not bad, Argonian,” she moaned. One of her daggers struck Quick-Strike’s side, leaving him in anguish.
Out came a pale skinned dark elf. He was taller than other dark elves and was clad in black armor trimmed with gray. Behind him flowed an elegant black cloak a white trim. His hair was long and black.
“Stop it, Scout,” he ordered. His voice was raspy, but firm. Instantly she backed away and sheathed her blades. She turned around and started walking towards the fortress.
“I am Knight-Captain Raynil Sarethi, remove yourself or I’ll slay you in the name of the Master,” he threatened. He was calm, but ready to kill. J’skooma took a step back, as did I.
“Who is the Master?” Quick-Strike demanded. “He has sent his men to assault the Septim Empire, so who is he?”
“Men, kill them,” he shouted.
The knights drew their blades, the archers strung their bows, the scouts drew their daggers. I gulped nervously…
I awoke in a small shack. A cold breeze blew against my bare chest as I sat up. The cold, dirt floor was just as bitter as the winds. “You awaken,” Quick-Strike stated after a moment. “You’ve been asleep for three nights, ever since that follower of their Master arrived.”
“Why are we in some shack?” I questioned. “What’s wrong?” My voice was inquisitive and probing, but I needed to be. I was so stressed, my muscles were tightened.
“We still don’t know who the Master is,” Quick-Strike stated. “However, his followers have been attacking Morrowind. The Imperial Legion has already been exterminated from Vvardenfell.”
I raised a brow coolly, “How?”
Quick-Strike’s voice was gloomy, “I don’t know, yet. But we need to make haste before the sun rises.”
I nodded and donned my armor. The heavy plate mail was restrictive for a few moments, but I quickly adjusted. We walked for several hours, until we saw a fort, however, it wasn’t abandoned. Armed knights patrolled and archers lined the walls.
A woman in black clothing walked out. She wore a black tunic, black pants, black boots, black gloves, a black cloak with a hood, and a black face mask. “Leave or be slain, Mortal,” she hissed. Her voice was as sharp as a sword.
“What is a private army doing with a fort?” I asked curiously. “Who funded you?”
She pulled out her blades, two short swords, both blacker than night. Quick-Strike’s blades lunged at her, cutting into her breast. “Not bad, Argonian,” she moaned. One of her daggers struck Quick-Strike’s side, leaving him in anguish.
Out came a pale skinned dark elf. He was taller than other dark elves and was clad in black armor trimmed with gray. Behind him flowed an elegant black cloak a white trim. His hair was long and black.
“Stop it, Scout,” he ordered. His voice was raspy, but firm. Instantly she backed away and sheathed her blades. She turned around and started walking towards the fortress.
“I am Knight-Captain Raynil Sarethi, remove yourself or I’ll slay you in the name of the Master,” he threatened. He was calm, but ready to kill. J’skooma took a step back, as did I.
“Who is the Master?” Quick-Strike demanded. “He has sent his men to assault the Septim Empire, so who is he?”
“Men, kill them,” he shouted.
The knights drew their blades, the archers strung their bows, the scouts drew their daggers. I gulped nervously…
Your writing feels natural, I saw several places I could quote. This story is really coming along strongly, I am loving it !!!
A rather dire situation here. . . gulp indeed! I agree with mALX. Your use of actions to imply emotions is good.
From Chapter 5:
Just a thought.
From Chapter 5:
QUOTE
He was covered in black clothing, black robes, a black hood, black boots, and even black gloves.
From Chapter 6: QUOTE
A woman in black clothing walked out. She wore a black tunic, black pants, black boots, black gloves, a black cloak with a hood, and a black face mask.
If you are trying to emphasize the color, I suggest you actually emphasize it rather than repeating it so much. Perhaps something like, 'From hood to boots, he was dressed in black - as dark as the inside of a long buried coffin.' Just a thought.
Good point, Acadian. And Malx, I'm glad you're enjoying it.
Chapter Seven: The Transformation
I stood there tensely, not making a move. I scanned the situation, hoping there was something I could do. A darkly-clad scout walked up to me and pressed her short sword against my throat. “Come with me, Elder T’then would like to see you and it’s best not to displease the elders,” she whispered in my ear.
Her voice was soft and gentle, like that of a Breton. Quick-Strike looked at me and noticed that the girl had me. He simply nodded as I was pulled into the Fort. I had a feeling he had a plan.
Knights looked at me and glared as we walked down the dark corridors of the fort. Finally we reached a large room in the center. On the walls were sconces giving off a minimal amount of light.
A Dark Elf looked at me. His eyes were old and wizened, showing he had lived a long life. However his body wasn’t much older than mine, although it was paler like the rest of the denizens. “The Argonian and the Khajiit, place them inside the dungeon, Scout,” he ordered. His voice was sharp.
“You are Kalarn Dralas I presume?” He asked. His voice was made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, but not near as much as his eyes. It was as if he was peering into my very soul.
“Yes, I’m Kalarn Dralas, and you are Elder T’then I assume?” I responded. “Why am I here and not my companions?” I was curious about what had happened to them, we had only known each other for less than a month, yet they were friends nonetheless.
The Mer nodded after a moment. He walked over to me and I could see him better. T’then stood up and stated, “Lord Varan, perform the ritual on our guest.” A black-robed Altmer looked at me, four Bretons walked over, in similar clothing.
One of the Bretons muttered under his breath and everything went black. When I awoke, I was shackled to a cold, stone table. It smelled like decay and rot in here. I tried to speak, but when I did, I realized I couldn’t.
The Altmer looked into my eyes and whispered, “Soon you shall be a Child of the Master.” He muttered under his breath and touched his hand against my bare chest. I tried to scream, but no sound came out.
The anguish was so intense and indescribable. He muttered more and his hand burned like acid that was biting through my flesh. I felt my chest splitting in two, however it wasn’t.
Tears ran down my face, then everything went black as a sudden bolt of agony shot through my body.
I stood there tensely, not making a move. I scanned the situation, hoping there was something I could do. A darkly-clad scout walked up to me and pressed her short sword against my throat. “Come with me, Elder T’then would like to see you and it’s best not to displease the elders,” she whispered in my ear.
Her voice was soft and gentle, like that of a Breton. Quick-Strike looked at me and noticed that the girl had me. He simply nodded as I was pulled into the Fort. I had a feeling he had a plan.
Knights looked at me and glared as we walked down the dark corridors of the fort. Finally we reached a large room in the center. On the walls were sconces giving off a minimal amount of light.
A Dark Elf looked at me. His eyes were old and wizened, showing he had lived a long life. However his body wasn’t much older than mine, although it was paler like the rest of the denizens. “The Argonian and the Khajiit, place them inside the dungeon, Scout,” he ordered. His voice was sharp.
“You are Kalarn Dralas I presume?” He asked. His voice was made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, but not near as much as his eyes. It was as if he was peering into my very soul.
“Yes, I’m Kalarn Dralas, and you are Elder T’then I assume?” I responded. “Why am I here and not my companions?” I was curious about what had happened to them, we had only known each other for less than a month, yet they were friends nonetheless.
The Mer nodded after a moment. He walked over to me and I could see him better. T’then stood up and stated, “Lord Varan, perform the ritual on our guest.” A black-robed Altmer looked at me, four Bretons walked over, in similar clothing.
One of the Bretons muttered under his breath and everything went black. When I awoke, I was shackled to a cold, stone table. It smelled like decay and rot in here. I tried to speak, but when I did, I realized I couldn’t.
The Altmer looked into my eyes and whispered, “Soon you shall be a Child of the Master.” He muttered under his breath and touched his hand against my bare chest. I tried to scream, but no sound came out.
The anguish was so intense and indescribable. He muttered more and his hand burned like acid that was biting through my flesh. I felt my chest splitting in two, however it wasn’t.
Tears ran down my face, then everything went black as a sudden bolt of agony shot through my body.
Your timing, descriptions, dialogue - everything in this chapter is perfect! Riveting !!!!!
Good news, guys! Oblivion's Edge is going to get published in my school literary journal! I'm officially going to be a published author! Well I will be once I submit it, heh, but most of the stories have zero-plot.
Congrats, Zalphon !!!!
Chapter 7: Out of the frying pan into the fire. Ouch!
On your literary journal: Congrats, Z!
On your literary journal: Congrats, Z!
Chapter Eight: Reborn
I awoke in a dark, dome-like building. I was clothed in a fine, velvet outfit. “You’re awake, Young One,” a woman’s voice stated in the blackness. “Come to my voice, Little One.”
Obediently, I walked over to her. The room felt comfortable oddly enough. I saw her face, pale as the silvery moon and she wore a black dress that reached her ankles. “The Master would like to see you, Young One.”
As if I was a mindless slave, I followed her through the dark fort. Eventually we reached the Throne Room. “My Master,” she kneeled. “I bring you the new-born that you wished to see.”
Out of the shadows I saw a dark elf rise. He looked at me. His eyes were sunken and pallid. The Dunmer’s skin was spectrally gray. “This is the one that attacked my men in the Fort?” the Master questioned. His voice was weak, but it made the woman who brought me here respond.
“Yes, My Master. He is Kalarn Dralas.”
The Dunmer hissed, “Kalarn Dralas, I am Thay’ren K’Thex, Master of the K’Thex Clan and the K’thex Empire.” His voice was acidic in nature.
“Release me, Thay’ren. I am younger, stronger, and faster than you,” I responded with pride in my voice. Two knights stepped towards me, but the Master held his hand up in a ‘stop’ signal.
“Bring no harm to Dralas. He is brave and challenged me to a fight, more of a spine than most of you worms,” the Master taunted.
Another new-born hissed, “I’ll kill you, pathetic old man.”
The ancient dark elf muttered under his breath and a maw of pure blackness opened and absorbed the new-born. “Any other mouthy scum?” he asked rhetorically. I was going to like serving the Master.
I awoke in a dark, dome-like building. I was clothed in a fine, velvet outfit. “You’re awake, Young One,” a woman’s voice stated in the blackness. “Come to my voice, Little One.”
Obediently, I walked over to her. The room felt comfortable oddly enough. I saw her face, pale as the silvery moon and she wore a black dress that reached her ankles. “The Master would like to see you, Young One.”
As if I was a mindless slave, I followed her through the dark fort. Eventually we reached the Throne Room. “My Master,” she kneeled. “I bring you the new-born that you wished to see.”
Out of the shadows I saw a dark elf rise. He looked at me. His eyes were sunken and pallid. The Dunmer’s skin was spectrally gray. “This is the one that attacked my men in the Fort?” the Master questioned. His voice was weak, but it made the woman who brought me here respond.
“Yes, My Master. He is Kalarn Dralas.”
The Dunmer hissed, “Kalarn Dralas, I am Thay’ren K’Thex, Master of the K’Thex Clan and the K’thex Empire.” His voice was acidic in nature.
“Release me, Thay’ren. I am younger, stronger, and faster than you,” I responded with pride in my voice. Two knights stepped towards me, but the Master held his hand up in a ‘stop’ signal.
“Bring no harm to Dralas. He is brave and challenged me to a fight, more of a spine than most of you worms,” the Master taunted.
Another new-born hissed, “I’ll kill you, pathetic old man.”
The ancient dark elf muttered under his breath and a maw of pure blackness opened and absorbed the new-born. “Any other mouthy scum?” he asked rhetorically. I was going to like serving the Master.
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOT !!!!!! I love this! Karlarn showed respect in his challenge, that is what saved him! AWESOME story !!!!!!!
WooHoo! Kalarn joins the dark side! Hmm, I wonder how much is him, and how much is the dark side of the Force.
Chapter Nine: The Elders
I looked into the mirror. My skin was almost white with a hint of gray. My eyes were pale red. My hair had lost all color and turned snow-white. The Master looked at me; his eyes were focused on me. “Kalarn, I have a request for you to prove your loyalty to me and to Clan K’Thex,” his voice emitted. “The Elders are planning to betray me and kill me. They view me as too old to fight.”
“Master, I can’t allow this to happen, I’ll kill them,” I said with vigor in my voice. “I’ll paint Nirn with their blood.”
“No,” the Master ordered. “Kalarn, you are my champion. You must aid them, once they grant you the rank of ‘Battle-Master’ lead their troops to this Fort and I will have my loyalists destroy the troops, while you kill them.”
“Yes, Master,” I grudgingly nodded. “I will become the Battle-Master of the Elders. I shall take my leave.”
He put his skeletal hand on my shoulder, “Not yet. A Battle-Master is equipped in the best.” The ancient vampire muttered under his breath and a chest appeared. When I opened it, I saw shining ebony armor.
I donned it and nodded. A great sword was the weapon that went with it. Engraved in it was, “Soularius”. When I gripped the blade, a voice burst into my head, “You’re the champion that Thay’ren spoke of?” Its voice was feminine but sharp.
“I am indeed the Champion of K’Thex,” I mentally riposted. “We needn’t fight, Soularius. We are on the same side.”
The blade remained silent and I walked out…
I looked into the mirror. My skin was almost white with a hint of gray. My eyes were pale red. My hair had lost all color and turned snow-white. The Master looked at me; his eyes were focused on me. “Kalarn, I have a request for you to prove your loyalty to me and to Clan K’Thex,” his voice emitted. “The Elders are planning to betray me and kill me. They view me as too old to fight.”
“Master, I can’t allow this to happen, I’ll kill them,” I said with vigor in my voice. “I’ll paint Nirn with their blood.”
“No,” the Master ordered. “Kalarn, you are my champion. You must aid them, once they grant you the rank of ‘Battle-Master’ lead their troops to this Fort and I will have my loyalists destroy the troops, while you kill them.”
“Yes, Master,” I grudgingly nodded. “I will become the Battle-Master of the Elders. I shall take my leave.”
He put his skeletal hand on my shoulder, “Not yet. A Battle-Master is equipped in the best.” The ancient vampire muttered under his breath and a chest appeared. When I opened it, I saw shining ebony armor.
I donned it and nodded. A great sword was the weapon that went with it. Engraved in it was, “Soularius”. When I gripped the blade, a voice burst into my head, “You’re the champion that Thay’ren spoke of?” Its voice was feminine but sharp.
“I am indeed the Champion of K’Thex,” I mentally riposted. “We needn’t fight, Soularius. We are on the same side.”
The blade remained silent and I walked out…
Oh, it was the blade talking !!!!! Great Chapter Zalphon !!! I love this story !!!
Clever to riposte with the talking sword!
Chapter Ten: The Beginning of a New Empire
Soularius danced elegantly in my hands, almost as if the blade and my arm had become one. “Together we fight,” I mentally whispered. “The Elders of each Bloodline are watching as we fight in the K’Thex Arena.”
The Fledgling dodged as Soularius lunged for his heart. She hissed, “For a...battle-mage…”
“Saraya?” I questioned curiously. Was it really her? The Vampire matched her, except the color had disappeared. I tried to pull back, but Soularius decapitated her. I watched as her head rolled from her shoulders onto the rocky floor of the Arena.
“Your petty affections make me ill,” Soularius scoffed. “Perhaps you’ll take after one of my former masters, a great and powerful Lich.”
“Who was your master that you speak of, Soularius?”
“You’re too weak to hear his name. It demoralized even the most powerful of crusaders and broke the most devout of clerics.”
I sighed as the Battle-Master of Clan K’Thex stood up. “You defeated Saraya, excellent. The Elders will each speak with you; choose wisely which bloodline you follow.” Each of the Elders scanned me suspiciously.
As I opened the door, one of the Elders stood there. Long, ebon strands of hair fell from the scalp of the Imperial’s skull to her shoulder blades. Her long, black fingernails were like claws. “You’re the one the prophecy spoke of?” she skeptically asked. “You’re the Incarnate of the Arch Lich?”
“I’m no incarnate of that over-bloated worm,” I spit in response. My voice sizzled like acid. I could see the look of annoyance in her black eyes. The hag sighed and wiped her hand across her face.
“You hold his blade?” She asked in disbelief. “Zalphon’s sword is yours to hold? The sword has killed everyone who it considers unworthy.”
“Her words ring true,” Soularius replied. “I’ve slain many Battle-Masters.”
“How?” I asked them both out loud?
“When I want you to know, you’ll find out,” My Sword hissed. “You’re the last survivor of the Broodikus family. The Septim Empire was formed by the blood and sweat of Talos. Your empire will be built upon the ruins of the Septim Empire.”
“My empire?” I mentally questioned. “Why would I have an empire?”
“Zalphon was defeated by Quick-Strike and J’skooma. Kill them and let your memories come back to you,” the Elder ordered.
I nodded and returned the Arena. A starving Argonian was led into the Arena. Quick-Strike was nearly dead and they dragged J’skooma to the Arena. “Come to slaughter your friends, have you?” Quick-Strike barked.
“No…I’ve come to begin what I started a lifetime ago…”
Soularius decapitated them both with a single blow…
Soularius danced elegantly in my hands, almost as if the blade and my arm had become one. “Together we fight,” I mentally whispered. “The Elders of each Bloodline are watching as we fight in the K’Thex Arena.”
The Fledgling dodged as Soularius lunged for his heart. She hissed, “For a...battle-mage…”
“Saraya?” I questioned curiously. Was it really her? The Vampire matched her, except the color had disappeared. I tried to pull back, but Soularius decapitated her. I watched as her head rolled from her shoulders onto the rocky floor of the Arena.
“Your petty affections make me ill,” Soularius scoffed. “Perhaps you’ll take after one of my former masters, a great and powerful Lich.”
“Who was your master that you speak of, Soularius?”
“You’re too weak to hear his name. It demoralized even the most powerful of crusaders and broke the most devout of clerics.”
I sighed as the Battle-Master of Clan K’Thex stood up. “You defeated Saraya, excellent. The Elders will each speak with you; choose wisely which bloodline you follow.” Each of the Elders scanned me suspiciously.
As I opened the door, one of the Elders stood there. Long, ebon strands of hair fell from the scalp of the Imperial’s skull to her shoulder blades. Her long, black fingernails were like claws. “You’re the one the prophecy spoke of?” she skeptically asked. “You’re the Incarnate of the Arch Lich?”
“I’m no incarnate of that over-bloated worm,” I spit in response. My voice sizzled like acid. I could see the look of annoyance in her black eyes. The hag sighed and wiped her hand across her face.
“You hold his blade?” She asked in disbelief. “Zalphon’s sword is yours to hold? The sword has killed everyone who it considers unworthy.”
“Her words ring true,” Soularius replied. “I’ve slain many Battle-Masters.”
“How?” I asked them both out loud?
“When I want you to know, you’ll find out,” My Sword hissed. “You’re the last survivor of the Broodikus family. The Septim Empire was formed by the blood and sweat of Talos. Your empire will be built upon the ruins of the Septim Empire.”
“My empire?” I mentally questioned. “Why would I have an empire?”
“Zalphon was defeated by Quick-Strike and J’skooma. Kill them and let your memories come back to you,” the Elder ordered.
I nodded and returned the Arena. A starving Argonian was led into the Arena. Quick-Strike was nearly dead and they dragged J’skooma to the Arena. “Come to slaughter your friends, have you?” Quick-Strike barked.
“No…I’ve come to begin what I started a lifetime ago…”
Soularius decapitated them both with a single blow…
NOOOOOOOOO!!!!! Don't let him kill Quick-Strike and J’skooma !!!!!!!! NOOOOOOOO !!!!!!!
I love this talking sword, her personality is Awesome !!!!!!! Great Write Zalphon !!!!!!
I love this talking sword, her personality is Awesome !!!!!!! Great Write Zalphon !!!!!!
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