Interregnum, 854 of the Second Era Options

[Destri Melarg]

To the Reader

This story takes place over the course of one year, 854 of the Second Era. It details the end of interregnum and the founding of the Septim line of Emperors. Inspiration for this story is drawn from two sources. The first is a one line entry in the timeline for the Second Era:

2E 854 - The Emperor was assassinated by a High Rock nightblade who also burned the Imperial Palace to the ground and attempted to kill General Talos.

I have come to believe that history is merely the propaganda of the winning side. This entry tells you what happened, but it doesn’t tell you how or why it happened. I have attempted to address those questions in this story.

For the second source of inspiration I express no embarrassment in saying that the form is blatantly lifted from my favorite of the in-game books, Carlovac Townway’s remarkable 2920: The Last Year of the First Era

Some of the characters you will encounter in this story have been lifted from the in-game books. Others are the product of the author’s imagination. I do not claim to have mastered the lore so if I stray too far from it, please don’t hesitate to call me on it. That said, there are a few ‘liberties’ that I have taken in this story which I feel I must draw to your attention:

- Tamriel is a much larger place than the game world. A day’s journey in game takes a week (weather and terrain permitting) in the story.
- Cities are larger and far more populated than they are in the game.

My deepest gratitude goes out to RemkoNL, mALX, Acadian, hauteecole rider, Winter Wolf, SubRosa, and treydog for their steadfast support of this story. Without you I doubt that it would exist.

As always any comments, criticisms, or suggestions are most welcome.

* * *

Table of Contents

Book One: Morning Star
Book Two: Sun's Dawn
Book Three: First Seed

This post has been edited by Destri Melarg: Aug 14 2010, 12:15 AM

[Destri Melarg]

Are you going to be doing any reworking of Interregnum? Or just straight reposting it? I suppose we shall see, won't we? Do you plan to continue working on Song of the Sword at the same time?

The best part about moving this story over to Chorrol is the fact that I get to go back and rework some of the chapters that I was not completely happy with the first time. The first chapter is a perfect example. In the original version Lattia opened an Oblivion Gate through sheer magicka and ‘will’ alone. That never really sat right with me. So this time I borrowed the ritual outlined in the book Liminal Bridges, which details the opening of an Oblivion Gate using a sigil stone. You can expect expanded chapters, new chapters, and reworked chapters in this new incarnation.

As for Song of the Sword, I will continue to update it, but at a much slower pace than Interregnum. The problem with using memory stones, newspaper accounts, and journal entries to tell the story is that it can quickly degenerate into a gimic. I have to figure out how best to tell the story in such a way that the telling of it remains fresh into the later chapters.

Back to Destri's story - it's good to review the beginning of Interregnum. It reminds me why this is one of my favorites on the Unnamed Forum. I'm glad to see it here!

And, as always haute, this story is glad to see you. And thank you, another pesky nit smited thanks to your eagle eye.

Yes! Yes! Now I can read from the start (even though I am about 53 pages in already).

53 pages! Sorry for making you go all the way back to the beginning, trey. I'll try to make enough changes to keep it interesting for you.

Clavicus Vile? Really? He is the second most unused Daedric Prince (that I've seen)! Very nice!

That seems a shame to me. In my opinion Clavicus Vile and Hermaeus Mora are the two most interesting Daedric Princes.

How do you burn a stone building?

I had the exact same question when I first read the entry in the timeline. I think I have come up with a very interesting solution to the problem that incorporates a lot of what haute, treydog, and Olen(thanks for dropping in BTW) have said. Stay tuned.

On the subject of Barbas' girth:
Nope, not going to touch that one.

_____

2nd Morning Star, 2E 854
Unmarked Cavern, Somewhere along the Western Reach
Evening


“Quiet!” Nolquinn whispered, his breath visible in the cold still air.

“Huh?” Lorian tried to lift his head but the effort was too much for him. He went back to counting the empty bottles in the snow in front of him.

“I heard something.” Nolquinn grabbed a torch and lit it with a flare spell. He left the mouth of the cavern and wandered toward the underbrush.

“It’s probably a wolf . . . or a bear.” said Lorian chuckling. “Maybe it’s a spriggan, what I wouldn’t give for one of those to warm my bedroll tonight.” He grabbed his stomach as fits of laughter caused him to roll in the snow surrounded by the empty bottles.

Imbecile! Nolquinn thought to himself. He hated third watch with Lorian. The man had none of Nolquinn’s Altmer dignity. Less than two hours of their watch gone and the Breton was already into his cups. Why does the Master keep him around? He was not useful in any way that Nolquinn could tell, and he was so loud that whatever was in the underbrush had probably fled, ruining their chance at a hot meal. At least he’s stopped laughing, Nolquinn thought.

He walked back to the mouth of the cave. Lorian lay on his side. A pool of liquid began to spread, darkening the snow around him. He’s wet himself again, Nolquinn thought, I should let him lie in his own filth. He walked closer.

He stopped. In the torchlight Lorian’s eyes were wide with a mixture of shock and surprise. A smile still lingered on his unmoving lips. A thin line of blood trailed from his mouth and dripped into a small red pool in the snow. His lifeblood ran from a gaping slash across his throat, and the red skull on the front of his black robe glistened.

Nolquinn drew his dagger and summoned a headless zombie from the nether realms. He backed into a position between it and the cavern door. Whatever killed Lorian did not leave footprints. Breathe, he told himself, breathe. He felt a hand grab his forehead from behind. His head was drawn back and tilted up, but no one was behind him. He felt a sudden pressure, like a finger being drawn across his neck. There was a rush of warmth on the front of his chest that ran down his robe and legs. He grew light-headed, his vision began to blur at the edges. The torch dropped from his limp hands and sizzled in the snow. He was on his knees, though he didn’t remember kneeling. The hand on his forehead was gone. His zombie dissipated like a puff of smoke. I’m going to die in the snow, he thought. The last thing he saw was the smile on Lorian’s face.

_____

The Nightblade Arnand Desele materialized and crouched over the dead man and elf whose blood stained the evening snow. He wore a thick brown cloak over his leather armor. His elven dagger still dripped. Ten years since I wielded a blade, he thought to himself, the old skills had atrophied, but they were still there. He examined the bodies, Necromancers, he thought, the Witchmen were right about this place. He felt a moment’s regret for the two lives he had stolen. For Elissa’s sake, I’d kill a thousand more just like them. He cleaned his blade in the folds of the Altmer’s robe and turned toward the entrance to the cavern.

Well guarded, the Witchmen had said. Inside there is a sorcerer of great power. One who has mastered the power of life and death. Arnand felt a chill that was more than just the cold and pulled his cloak tighter. For Elissa’s sake, he thought. He cast a combination spell of nighteye and life detection before he stepped through the door of the cavern.

The rock wall formed a tunnel that went down at a steep angle. He started downward, crouching to limit the noise his boots made against the slick rock. On the tunnel floor torchlight provided dim illumination. Two more tunnels branched off from the walls to his left and right. He clung to the shadows. The pink blots that he could see through the floor told him that the cavern went deeper . . . and that he was not alone. He counted more than a dozen blots before the spell ended and they faded from view. He remained in the shadows while his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

I’m so close, he thought. These enemies are all that stand between me and this sorcerer. He can help me save Elissa, he must help me. He studied the lie of the shadows along both tunnels before casting his combination spell again.

Two enemies were coming toward him from the tunnel on his left. He drifted left, into the shadows near the opening and waited. The two necromancers passed through the opening talking to each other. Arnand cast a paralyze spell at the taller of the two necromancers farthest from him. He sprung from his hiding place and took the nearest necromancer from behind. His dagger found the man’s throat and drank deep. He moved past the necromancer holding his throat and grabbed the hair of the taller one still in the act of falling from his paralyze spell. He hesitated for a split second. She was an Altmer. She looks so much like Elissa, he thought. He heard the other necromancer hit the ground behind him. He slit the woman’s throat and let go of her hair. She fell and bled out on the slick stone floor. Neither had made a sound.

He pulled the bodies back into the shadows. He recast his combination spell and went down the left tunnel. Using the cover provided by the shadows, he was able to sneak past three skeletons and two zombies. The tunnel curved downwards through several turns before ending in a small chamber. There was an empty coffin placed into a niche hacked out of the rock wall. Arnand was sweating and his hands were shaking. Seeing the coffin was too much of a reminder. My wife is a vampire, he thought to himself staring at the coffin, this could be her coffin if I can’t save her.

He wiped his brow and calmed his shaking hands. By the time he carefully retraced his steps out of the tunnel he was calm, his resolve strengthened. He would reach this sorcerer if he had to go through all the minions in Oblivion to do it. He recast his combination spell and walked down the other winding tunnel.

Two more skeletons guarded the other tunnel. They wielded iron war axes and stood too close together in the confines of the tunnel to sneak around. Arnand remained in the shadows. Behind him the tunnel was clear. He could not afford to waste his magicka on another combination spell. I’ll have to trust that the tunnel ahead is the same, he thought. He waited until both skeletons had their backs to him before moving. He cast a bolt of command creature at the nearest skeleton. While the purple globe of energy was still airborne he rendered himself invisible and sprinted after it. The spell found its mark, engulfing the skeleton in a pale purple aura that provided brief illumination in the tunnel. The skeleton set upon its counterpart with a vicious overhead slash. By the time the other skeleton turned to defend itself, Arnand had slipped past them like a puff of smoke. His luck held, the tunnel beyond the skeletons was empty. By the time his invisibility spell wore off, the sounds of battle had faded far behind him.

Three necromancers were grouped together in the large chamber at the end of the tunnel. They stood in front of a heavy oak door set into the rock. Two men and one woman. The two men were facing the woman with their backs to Arnand. Mercifully the woman looked nothing like Elissa. Child’s play, Arnand thought.

He cast two spells in succession. The paralyze spell hit the first necromancer in the back and caused him to fall over. The command humanoid spell hit the woman. As the third necromancer turned and lifted his hand to form a summon, the woman blasted him with a fireball that sent him careening across the cavern. He hit the ground hard. His summoned ghost appeared next to the woman, drawing her fire. The third necromancer tried to regain his feet, but Arnand was behind him. His blade extinguished both his life and his ghost. Arnand disappeared behind an invisibility spell.

The paralyze spell on the first necromancer wore off. He tried to rise and the woman turned her attention to him, hitting him with a hefty drain life spell that staggered him. Before he could recover the woman drew her dagger and plunged it into his heart. The frenzy spell wore off, she still held the bloody dagger. “What?” was all she managed before Arnand materialized behind her, ending her life with a single cut.

He walked over to the oak door and opened it with a spell. He stepped across a threshold into a darkness that made him feel as if he had slipped off the face of the world. The void closed in around him, yet he did not fall. It held him up and carried him on cautious footsteps until it moved aside for him, like the parting of a veil.

He found himself inside a large room with oak paneling on the walls and red carpeted floors. A fire burned in the hearth bracketed by high-backed leather chairs. Lamps in sconces along the walls illuminated thousands of books that dominated the room, and candles burned on the well-stocked dinner table.

Arnand thought to go for his dagger, but he couldn’t move. A paralysis spell stronger than any he had ever known had him in its grip. A figure rose from one of the leather chairs and turned to face Arnand.

Mara! It might have once been man or mer, but it had long since shed easy classification. A cloak of a deeper scarlet than all the blood that Arnand had spilled to reach it covered the figure and pooled on the ground around him. The heavy hood that cast its face into darkness deeper than the void could not contain the blue points of light that hinted at unspeakable power and command of the dead. It spoke with the voice of an Altmer, in calm and cultured tones that belied, or perhaps underscored, the power of its presence.

“Seven of my people, taken out in minutes,” he said, “most impressive.”

A trap, thought Arnand, I’ve been deceived. He was waiting for me.

“Do not struggle. The effect will last as long as I will it, so let us be civil.” He walked over to the dinner table and filled two glasses with wine. He toasted Arnand with one.

“Though the title is a bit macabre,” he said, “I am known as the King of Worms, and you come highly recommended.”

This post has been edited by Destri Melarg: Mar 24 2010, 08:52 AM