Evolution, A TES Fan-Fiction Options

[Zalphon]

Prologue

3E 422

My eyes slowly opened to reveal bookcases lined with books, ingredients and trophies. I had fallen asleep in the Common House in the Wolverine Hall. This wasn’t that—it was something entirely different. The fungal walls were lined with book cases holding books, various alchemical substances and trophies.

I slowly forced myself into a standing position. The cold air hit me as soon as I managed to stand. The icy chill only bit into specific parts—it was as if invisible tendrils had a tightening grip on my body. The tendrils felt much more real when I tried to move my arms. They were completely immobilized by this abnormal cold.

A Dunmer garbed in flowing, ebon robes materialized out of thin air. Four others instantly appeared as well. The Dunmer stated with his raspy voice, “I am Lord Sarthon Kirth and you are in Tel Kirth.” My eyes widened slightly—Tel designated that I was in a Telvanni Tower.

“Bray-Hul demands to know why she is away from her master,” the Argonian questioned. My eyes took a quick glance to notice Bray-Hul was a relatively thin. Her tattered shirt hung off her as if she was only a skeleton and her pants were almost as loose.

“If I may explain,” Kirth responded. “You five are people no one will miss. You’re slaves, outlaws and paupers. This is why you have all been blessed with an opportunity to become Telvanni Wizards.”

The Nord to my right was a young man with shoulder-length blonde hair. He was breathing heavily and his face was flushed. “You damn dark elves are cowards,” the man blurted. “I’ll snap your spine like a skeever.” Sarthon shook his head and extended his open hand. He whispered something and out of his hand shot a bright chartreuse orb that slammed into the young man.

The Nord’s screams were sharp. I watched as the orb burrowed into his chest, dissolving his body as it went. As the screams continued, we all stood in silence as a puddle of viscera slowly formed at his feet. His entire body was eventually liquefied by the spell and then it just—disappeared.

“I do not appreciate threats,” the Wizard continued emotionlessly. “And you all need to learn the rules of what is going to occur over the next twenty-four hours. You’re going to be sent to the Canals beneath Vivec where you four will either kill each other or all die.”

“What—what are you talking about?” the Altmer Girl to my left said. “We…have to kill…each other?” Her voice was cracking as she struggled to say the words.

“You will all wear chokers. They are linked by your life force; if even two of you still live after twenty-four hours, then you’ll all be killed. If only one survives, you’ll be teleported back here and will gain the privilege of studying magic under me.”

What was the point of this game? What was he gaining out of this other than several corpses in the canals beneath Vivec? The Dunmer muttered under his breath and a black-metal collar appeared around my throat. One appeared around all of our throats. What was this thing?

There was a blinding flash of light and when I could see again, the world around me had changed. The bookshelves and walls had changed to a gargantuan metal pipe. In the center was a river slowly moving to its destination. Rats scurried around on the metal side-walks of the large pipe.

With a sigh, I knelt down and looked around for a tool to use in this fight. A skeleton with a steel stiletto between its ribs lay there peacefully. Next to it was a half-empty bottle with a label that was so old that it became too faded to read. And beside the bottle was a note that shared the same fate as the label. My hand firmly gripped the blade. The hunt had just began…

[Zalphon]

Chapter One: The Beauty of Death - Part I

The sounds of the flowing river created a soothing ambience. It was relaxing and in a strange way, it was hypnotic. “What are you doing here?” a voice interrupted on my serenity. It was a voice which demanded attention.

My grip on the dagger tightened as I turned around to see who was speaking to me. The man staring at me was a monstrous figure. His tightly-pulled skin was a pale grey and his eyes were a flushed scarlet. The silver hair falling from his head reached his shoulders and was matted with dirt and blood.

“I am hunting,” I softly said as I watched his reactions. “Why are you here?” He reacted with little movement other than taking a few steps closer. As the distance closed, my eyes noticed that his body was littered with scars.

“These canals are my home, Stranger.”

“Fair enough—what is your name?”

“I am Thanryn Broodikus, and yourself?” he asked. His raspy voice made him seem like he had spent a good time outside, too. As if this were a new home, because seldom did those who stayed indoors often gain that tone from the Ash-Storms.

“Minx…of a house I do not know.”

He looked appalled by the answer. Almost as if I had told him that I was a mythical creature. “That’s an unusual name for a daughter of Morrowind,” he paused momentarily. “And I assume you’re an orphan, yes?”

“Kar-Tolan named me Minx after an old friend of his,” I muttered. “That old lizard was crazier than a Khajiit, though.”

The old elf looked up at me curiously and shook his head, “You were raised by this ‘Kar-Tolan’, I’m assuming?”

“That’s a story for another time, Thanryn. Can you help me navigate these canals? I’m looking for an Argonian, an Altmer and two others.”

“Why are you looking for them?”

“If I told you, you’d call me a liar.”

“Try me.”

“I am being forced to fight for my life in a game of a Telvanni Lord’s. Sithron Kirth, I think his name was.”
“Sarthon. Sarthon Kirth is his name,” the Mer growled. “Follow close. I value the opportunity to meet Lord Kirth in person.” His eyes widened when I said the name Kirth. It was almost as if the fire of life had been reignited in this man’s spirit.

He began walking forward at a brisk pace and he stopped before a clay door. “Check in here.” When I pulled open the door, it felt weightless. I was stunned by what I found inside. An entire room had been tunneled into and lying inside was a human of some sort.

There was a small bookshelf with a few books. There was a pile of clothes in one of the rounded corners. In the furthest point in the room was a bedroll and gently resting in it was an Imperial. I think he seemed familiar, but I wasn’t too sure.

Only the head stuck out from under the blankets. I put the tip of the stiletto to the man’s throat and shoved him to wake him up. His eyes didn’t open—he just rest their motionlessly. This time I shoved more violently, but still not even a response.

With my freehand, I pulled the covers off of the Imperial. What I saw was something that I’ll never forget. His ribs were grotesquely ripped open and inside some of his organs were scratched open. Not cut—scratched. As I stared with a macabre fascination, Thanryn looked in and shook my shoulder.

“In all my years,” he muttered in disgust. “I have never seen something so…vile. I have even served at the Ghostgate, but not even there does something so monstrous happen.”

“This was one of the other contestants, I think.”