Blood and Corruption, A Fan-Fiction Options

[Zalphon]

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...

[Zalphon]

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…