Oblivion's Edge, An Elder Scrolls Fan-Fiction Options

[Zalphon]

Prologue

Five hundred years after the Oblivion Crisis...

Many years ago, the Champion of Cyrodiil stopped the daedra from invading. The hordes of infernal dremora and vicious daedroth. When he left Mankar Camaron's Paradise, people viewed him as a hero. However, he had become much darker.

He then went to the Shivering Isles in search of power. When he returned, any traces of humanity had left him. In his demented rage, he slaughtered the Blades, and began a crusade of crimes. However, an Argonian assassin stopped him.

After that, the Argonian and his Khajiiti companion came to the ruins of Morrowind to regain their thoughts. For after they killed the Champion, their long-lost Dunmeri friend arrived in a new-found body of a lich. They killed him and ever sense held a deep sense of remorse.

For some time they stayed in the blackened remnants of the Dunmeri homeland, but left. The despair that filled their hearts from seeing the remains of where they met their friend caused them to leave. They were never seen again.

There is rumor in the streets of the Imperial City of a daedric cult with the power to weaken, or even destroy the seal from our world and theirs. The Champion of Cyrodiil rose up before, I must rise up now. After the Mede empire fell, a daedra-worshipper conquered Tamriel.

When I was a squire, they taught me the skills of swordplay, ettiquette, archery, and restoration. Now I guess I'll have to put my skills to the test. I must walk in his footsteps, but I must remember the teachings of the Dunmer, the Argonian, and the Khajiit.

The time is near, I must stop time from repeating itself...

[Zalphon]

Chapter Twenty: The Shrine of Hircine

A long week's travel followed that night. Quick-Strike told me how I was distant, Evangeline also noticed it. J'skooma was even gloomy during our travels. He had no amusing conversations with cheese as we walked through the forests, instead he argued with himself.

When we reached the shrine, it was cracked, moss was growing, and it depicted a stag-headed man with a spear in his right hand and a dog in the other. "Hircine, it I, the Champion of Nirn," I called out. "What must I do to earn your favor?"

"Prove your skill in the hunt," his echoing voice invaded. "The most powerful prey, is the one with reason. Evangeline is your target. If you succeed, then I will send one-thousand were-beasts to aid you. As well as give you something else."

"Evangeline," I hissed. "You shall fall to my hand."

The woman walked towards me and kneeled. I was about to behead her, but for some reason I missed. I tried and tried, but every time had the same results. "Sanctuary spells," she girlishly giggled. "You'll not be killing me."

With a tear in my eye, I said a prayer to Arkay. My sword hit her neck, perfectly. A clean kill. "Impressive," Hircines' voice flattered. "My werewolves will aid you, but Kalian... Beware, I fought Zalphon hundreds of years ago. He almost banished me, but I used my werebears and werewolves. Remember, Kalian... You are the Champion of Nirn, but you are still semi-mortal." On the shrine appeared a furry-cuirass. The Savior's Hide.

I took off my breast-plate, chain-mail shirt, and cloth shirt. I put it on, took off the cloth shirt, put on the chain-mail shirt, and finally the breast-plate. A little itchy, but it would protect me from the spell-casters of Nirn. "The nearest shrine is that of Sheogorath," Quick-Strike insighted. "The Mad God can do amazing things."

I nodded. Night came when we found the abandoned city of Border Watch. Legend said that a plague of rats came, the sheep died, and flaming dogs fell from the sky. Being this close to the Shrine of Sheogorath makes sense that strange events would occur.

I headed for the inn and took a bed. Sleep came hastily, yet I awoke in the middle of the night to hear Quick-Strike and J'skooma downstairs.

"The High Watcher will want to meet us here at sun-rise," Quick-Strike sighed. "In the letter I recieved, he was most pleased about Kalian's progress."

"We should probably rest," J'skooma replied. "We needn't irritate the High Watcher." I let sleep consume me. When I awoke, the sun shined in my face. I heard three voices. I walked to the staircase. My two friends and a humanoid in black robes, with black boots, black gloves, and his hood up.

"High Watcher Magnus," Quick-Strike deeply bowed. "We are most sorry for this foul residence."

"J'skooma is deeply sorry," J'skooma said. "Forgive J'skooma."

"All is forgiven, Watchers," Magnus nodded. "I would like to say how well you've done with Kalian. I figured he wasn't the one of the prophecy. I do believe it's almost time to induct young Kalian into the Watchers."

"The Watchers hold many secrets," the Argonian verbally riposted. "He must complete the tasks set before him, first."

"Indeed, but perhaps I should give infuse his blood with the a fraction so small of the power of Aetherius it would seem non-existent."

"That may help," Quick-Strike agreed. "He should be asleep."

"He's not. I can sense his energy. He is up the stairs watching us," Magnus pointed. "Come down, Kalian."

Obediently, I came down. "What is thou will," I asked. "I will serve you until my dying breath, and even after if you so choose."

He pulled an eight-sided shard of his pocket. It glowed bright blue, almost blindingly so. The High Watcher put it to my chest and instantly I fell to the ground, unconscious...