Oblivion's Edge, Book I of the Corruption Trilogy 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 since 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, etiquette, 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 Seven: The Final Battle

Suits of armor, swords and axes, all kinds of weapons were on tables. I donned a suit of Daedric Armor and a long-sword of Daedric craft. “Kalian, there is a good chance this will be our tomb. May Anu watch over you, Kalian,” Quick-Strike whispered as he put on a suit of black-leather armor.

I merely nodded. I had no fear, not anymore. Whether this was divine or mundane, I was ready to slay ‘my Ancestor’. We walked up the stairs and J’skooma cast a spell to open the lock.

A Dremora walked over to us and bowed deeply. “You have made it so far, Kalian. However, you didn’t do it fast enough,” he cackled. “It is I, Valkynaz Proditor. The Daedric Armada has swept Tamriel, and soon Nirn. Dagon will soon join us and your foolish little quest will be crushed.”

“Proditor,” I hissed. “You’re just a worm. I have watched my friends die and rise up again. I have fought Tscaesci. I have met Tosh Raka. You’re merely another foe I need to slay.”

Valkynaz Proditor stepped back. “You ash-born, you scrib, you nix-hound, I’ll kill you.” He drew his sword and I drew mine. I thrust into his chest, as he slashed at my arm. Blood began draining into my armor, but I couldn’t stop. Almost as if it had a mind of its own, my sword went straight for his throat.

Proditor riposted it. A blow struck me in the torso. As I fell to the ground, I slashed at his eyes. He fell too. Darkness filled my vision, but I had to stay awake. My Argonian friend kneeled beside me and muttered a spell. Suddenly, I felt a burst of vigor. However, Quick-Strike was dying.

I cradled him and asked, “Why? Why did you do it?”

“Even the greats must enter the Dreamsleeve, Kalian. Today I die; my life is in Anu’s hands now. Will I be reincarnated again as myself with all my memories and skills or will I be reincarnated as someone else, only time will tell,” The Argonian stated. “Farewell, Kalian. May Anu watch over you.”

I could feel his life-force fade. J’skooma fell to his knees and I saw tears wet his furry face. “J’skooma is horribly sad, Quick-Strike is dead,” the Khajiit sobbed. “J’skooma must leave and search for Quick-Strike if he is reborn as Quick-Strike again.”

A tear burned my eyes as the insane mage ran off. I walked and the Dremora, the Necromancers, and the Skeletal Champions kneeled. I reached a white-gold door that led to stairs. One of the Dremora said to me, “You killed Valkynaz Proditor. You are worthy of combating against Zalphon.”

“Why do you let me pass?” I questioned suspiciously.

“We are soldiers and warriors. However, we respect combat and honor. You killed Valkynaz Proditor honorably, the best of us all and Lord Dagon’s second-in-command. Zalphon waits at the top of the tower. Slay Zalphon and Dagon will be weakened back to his normal form and the other Princes will weaken him so that he can’t return after they banish him.”

I nodded, “Zalphon awaits my blade.” I opened the door and walked up the spiral staircase. There he stood.

A Dunmer with hair as black as ebony and a suit of Daedric Armor protected his body. “I am impressed,” he stated. “Quick-Strike lays dead, J’skooma hunts for him. I was rather eager to speak to my former friend.”

“You betrayed us all, Quick-Strike, J’skooma, the Nine,” I scowled. “I am the Champion of Nirn, destined to stop you and make you suffer for your crimes.” I had no fear. I was confident, ready to kill him.

“Kalian, if I wanted you dead… I would’ve done so. I have waited for this day for decades. Mundus will be mine. You may bask in my triumph as my equal.”

I wanted to take his offer, but I drew my sword instead. I would die before I served with or for him. “Zalphon, today you die,” I barked. “Your death will be fast.”

He turned around and frowned. He tore his blade out of the scabbard. With godly haste he slashed at me, but I parried. As if everything was slowed. I lunged, but he dodged it. Instantaneously his long-sword cut into my right arm. A surge of adrenaline rushed through my blood.

With an elegant strike, almost a dance I stabbed his heart. He fell to his knees and whispered, “Impressive, Kalian. Know this; I always did care about you. You are my descendent.”

He fell on his face and the sky’s red-color faded into light gray as rain fell. A bright flash of light appeared and I saw a white-skinned elf in white plate-mail. “Greetings Kalian, I am an Avatar of Akatosh. You have completed the Prophecy of the Black Dawn,” he telepathically stated. A burst of light emitted from his palm as he placed it on my chest. He mysteriously dissapeared.

My journey was over. I looked down at the broken corpse and pulled off his helmet. Long, white hair fell from his dark, ebony skin. His pallid eyes had closed. The High Watcher looked at me. “It is time that he finally reaches rest. Hero, you’ve completed your duties. They will erect temples in your name and worship you as a god.”

“You’re right, Talos, but I am no god.”

“What will you do, Hero?”

“I will do the same thing that I’ve always done. Survive, however since I’ve learned something since I began my quest. We’re all a part of something bigger...”

“Very well, Kalian.”

And so ends my tale…

Sir Kalian Broodikus, Champion of Nirn

This post has been edited by Zalphon: Mar 14 2011, 12:21 AM