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 Four: Secrets of J'skooma

Zalphon walked into the city of Balmora with his armor weathered by the ash. J'skooma followed behind, while Quick-Strike was around, but nowhere to be seen. The people of Balmora nodded at him and smiled. A Dunmeri Knight was a respected member of society.

He walked into the Temple and saw the Master waiting with two ordinators. One on each side. Zalphon pulled out the mask and handed it to her, "Master, here is the ash mask, I am still getting the other artifacts." The Dunmer bowed deeply to the Priestess.

"Guards, this man has stolen an artifact from the Temple and hidden it, have him executed," She said. With haste she turned around and walked up the stairs. The Ordinators drew their ebony maces and charged. The Khajiit muttered under his breath for a second and a pile of ash lay where the ordinators were.

"J'skooma kill them for you, Friend," He said to Zalphon. His voice was laced with empathy, kindness, and innocence. Like a child. They walked up the stairs and saw Quick-Strike with a dagger to the throat of the Master of the Temple.

His left hand held her stomach, his right had the dagger to her throat. He whispered to her, "This is the end, Betrayer of the Chosen." Suddenly blood spurted from her neck as she fell to the floor.

"J'skooma, Quick-Strike, what are we going to do," Zalphon asked as he looked at the Hlaalu Guards that were rushing to the Temple. Fear laced the Knight's voice. He was only in his early twenties and already on his way to his execution.

Bright, blue light surrounded each of them. The Dunmeri Knight stood there in an Ancient Wizard's Tower. He noticed there were no doors or windows, just black, dismal stone. In the center of the round room was a pedestal and on it, a black book that glowed with bright, blue light. "J'skooma," Zalphon thought. "I have to read this, it may be important."

With haste he ran up to it and pulled the cover to one side. It was written in bright, glowing, blue letters.

"3E 411, Seventeenth of Last Seed,

Zalphon, he is my son. My only son. I must protect him at all costs. I have found an Ancient Hourglass made by Akatosh. I will use it to go back in time and be granted immortality and power by destroying the weakest daedric prince, Sheogorath. Then I'll protect my son, I will always watch over him. I write this before I go back, with my very blood. My blood is more magick, than actual blood. Due to my many experiments with magicka this has happened. I've evolved past just being a Dunmer, I am more. I am more magick than mer. This is the end of my life as a mere wizard-lord. I will be a god, if not stronger! All for him, my only son. For now he is only an infant, but one day he'll be as mighty as an ogre and as smart as a Telvanni.

Lord Alu'Kar Broodikus, Telvanni Wizard-Lord."

"J'skooma is my father, but he died when I was just a baby... The Temple took me in and made me a member, this can't be," Zalphon screamed in his mind. "What lies are these, they can't be true!"

Instantaneously, he appeared in a tavern. J'skooma drank bubbling elixirs of his own. Quick-Strike drank fine, red wine. Zalphon felt his pack feel heavier. He opened it up, and there was the Journal of Lord Alu'Kar Broodikus, AKA J'skooma. The Dunmeri Knight ordered some honey mead and drank it slowly.

"What do we do now, Quick-Strike?" Zalphon asked inquisitively. "Do we become mercenaries?"

"We'll talk in the morning, Zalphon," was all the response the Argonian would give. The Assassin put down a bag of over-flowing gold coins. And motioned J'skooma and Zalphon to follow to their rooms. They would each sleep, but what would they do for a career? Become a sword for hire? A gladiator? They were all unsure, except Quick-Strike who was going to tell them both everything in the morning.