The Knight, A Fan-Fiction Options

[Zalphon]

Prologue

Ten Years Before The Oblivion Crisis

The Dark Elf ran up the long, ebony, spiral staircase. His shadowy hair flew by under his shining steel helmet. His ashen-gray skin was nearly invisible in the darkness of Fort Blackblood. His eyes were as red as his heart. Zalphon kicked open a door and saw a man dressed in ebony armor. His hair was long and gray, his eyes were a dark red, his skin was a pale gray. An Imperial Vampire. "Surrender, Vampire," The Dark Elven Knight barked. "Surrender and the Tribunal Temple will make your death private."

The Man snickered, "A Tribunalite dares challenge me, I am Sir Askarn Stormbringer, Knight of the Ebon Rose." The Dunmer ripped his silver blade out of the sheathe and frowned.

"It doesn't have to be this way, Vampire," He sighed. "I will kill you quickly if you just forfeit." The Imperial grinned wickedly, revealing his yellow fangs. His breath smelled of rotting flesh and suddenly he charged. The Dark Elf kneeled and put his towershield in front of him to protect himself. The sword cut into the shield, making a screeching noise.

With haste the Tribunalite jumped forth and thrusted into the chest of the Vampire. "I didn't want to hurt you, Blood-Drinker." The vampire fell to the ground and Zalphon muttered a fire spell. It burst into flame and turned to ash.

The Knight walked up the Ebony Stairs and at the top saw an old, Dunmer in Daedric Armor. In his hand he held a daedric longsword, that was lit by flame. In his other hand was a daedric tower shield. The Elder Dark Elf turned around and bowed deeply, "Greetings, Zalphon."

"Why do you greet me, Vampire?" He asked. "And how in the name of Vivec do you know who I am?" The Elderly Dunmer chuckled at that.

"I am no vampire, dear child. I am a Lich," He muttered. "And I know your name, and everything you've ever done and ever will do."

"What're you talking about," Zalphon demanded. "I can sense the lies in your tone." The lich put his gauntlet-covered hand up to his face and sighed deeply. After he chuckled for a moment.

"I don't lie, Zalphon. Do you?"

"Never."

"I do know your fate, Zalphon, after all I am you."

The Knight thrusted his blade into the Lich and then suddenly awoke. Sweat beaded down his forehead. He called out, "Quick-Strike, make me a kwama egg, get me a bottle of flin, and prepare a loaf of bread with scrib jelly. Get yourself some scrib jerky."

One thought rushed through his mind, "Was it just a dream." He ushered it out of his mind as he put on some pants and went down his stairs. He lived in Balmora, Vvardenfell District, Morrowind. The Argonian had light green scales and stood up like a normal humanoid. On the table was a limeware plate with a warmed kwama egg, a bottle of flin, and a loaf of bread with scrib jelly spread on it. The aroma was amazing, but Zalphon knew he'd need it.

With haste he ate it and headed for the Temple...

This post has been edited by Zalphon: Mar 18 2010, 01:36 AM

[Zalphon]

Chapter One: Faith

Zalphon slowly crept into the Temple in his formal clothing. A Dunmer in a green robe with a netchleather satchel at his side walked up and asked, "Who are you?" His voice was calm and inviting. However he looked rather annoyed.

"Sir Zalphon Broodikus, Curate of the Temple and Knight of Vivec," he stated. Suddenly the Dark Elf scooted out of the way and left the Knight room to walk. Slowly he paced forth and reached a triangular shrine to the Tribunal. He kneeled and prayed for several minutes...

Suddenly he had a vision. His sword slid into the flesh of Lord Vivec. He howled in agony, in pure anguish. The Deity punched back and shoved the Dunmer into the wall of his palace. Zalphon stood back up and charged at Vehk. He thrusted his mighty blade into the chest of Vivec. He whispered to the dying god, "This is the end, Vivec." Instantaneously it stopped. Cold sweat dripped down his forehead as he rushed to the Master of the Temple.

She was an elderly woman, and he was a young Dark Elf. He said, "M-M-Master, I've been having dreams, maybe even preminitions of myself doing horrible things." His voice quivered as he spoke. His eyes were wet at the thought of his punishment.

Master Hlaalu frowned and questioned, "Your faith is weak? Perhaps you should go on the Pilgrimage of the Seven Graces again, or actually... Lord Vivec, Lady Almalexia, and Lord Sotha Sil each have an item they lost. Vivec lost his sacred Ash-Mask, it is rumored to be somewhere in the Ashlands. Lady Almalexia lost her sacred sword, once wielded by Saint Nerevar. It is said to be in Cyrodiil. Lord Sotha Sil lost his mighty staff, and could be anywhere on Tamriel."

"The task shall be done, Master Hlaalu," Zalphon said as he walked out of the Temple. His mind was entangled with his task, his friends, his slave, and all others he knew. Waiting outside the Temple was a strange khajiit.

"I am J'skooma, a wizard, I know where you're going and I want to come with," It said. "My friend and I want to come."

"Who is your friend?"

"Mr. Scrib," He said as he looked at the ground. There was no scrib, or anything else.

"Go away, you Sheogorath Cultist," He grumbled as he walked back to his Manor.

Inside the Temple, Archcanon Saryoni walked over to Master Hlaalu. Saryoni asked, "Do you think he'll really succeed in finding the artifacts?"

"It doesn't matter, Archcanon," She responded. "If he finds them, then we'll send Morag Tong for stealing artifacts from the Temple, and if he fails, then we'll execute him for failure."

Saryoni frowned deeply, "And if he doesn't return?"

"He will, if I know Zalphon, he will..."