Grey Knight, Warhammer 40,000 meets the Elder scrolls Options

[Colonel Mustard]

Well the Mythic Dawn are suspiciously well informed on things like lost heirs, what certain amulets do and the locations of top secret escape routes. And I've always been suspicious about those red robes of his...

It's all a whacked out conspiracy maaaaan!

[Colonel Mustard]

And more! Enjoy the duel!

Part 21-Daemonhost

The daemon-Ocato was still for only a moment, before it charged forwards, its shredded robes flapping uselessly behind it. It raised its claws and bought them down upon Alicarius with deadly speed. He blocked the blows, and and countered, his halberd drawing a deep gash along the chest of the thing that used to be Ocato, which just laughed contemptuously.

“You will have to do better than that, commander,” it said.

It attacked again and again, driving Alicarius back step by step. He tried to draw on his powers, but he didn't have time too, so busy was he attempting to block the creature's blows. If he had his armour on, he may been able to weather some of them and blast it back, but without it he was at a disadvantage.

He delivered a vicious kick to the thing's chest, causing it to stumble, before slashing down with his halberd in an attempt to kill it for good. The blow was caught on the massive claws, but Alicarius pressed his advantage, immediately hammering at the daemon with his own volley of attacks. Then the daemon-Ocato leapt away, to the top of the wardrobe, where it crouched like some obscene gargoyle.

“It's good to find a worthy opponent,” it said. “I'm beginning to enjoy this, though I fear it may be pitifully short.”

“I wouldn't be so sure,” Alicarius replied. “I'm only just warming up.”

He had the chance, and he took it, sending a burning beam of light towards the daemonhost. It didn't have time to dodge, and was blasted off the top of the wardrobe, the tattered remnants of its robes burning.

Alicarius approached it cautiously, his halberd still raised.

The thing was still, before it suddenly sprang into life in maelstrom of slashing claws and gnashing teeth. Alicarius caught it's wrist out of pure luck, knocking away its slicing claws and using his forearm to hold the creature back by its neck. The talons on its feet sprang into life, raking his stomach and scoring deep gashed along it. The wounds bled for a moment, before his advanced biology took over and the red blood cells rapidly congealed.

He staggered under the sudden assault, then tripped on the corpse of Ocato's bodyguard. They fell, but Alicarius kept his grip relentlessly strong, not allowing the struggling daemonhost any opening.

With a roar, Karraz thundered forwards and swung his warhammer with enough force to send the Ocato-Daemon flying, before slamming into a wall. It landed in a heap, before shooting Karraz a venomous look and leaping on him.

The orc, for all his courage, martial skill and strength, lasted for less than five seconds before Ocato's claws tore him to pieces.

Njil was next-he made a swing at the former high chancellor, but the daemonhost dodged under the attack and plunged his claws into the nord's midriff. The bodyguard crumpled to the ground, dead within seconds.

It charged at Serene, grinning wickedly. She blocked the first slice it made at her, and then second, before it viciously backhanded her into the scorched remains of the wardrobe. She crumpled to the floor, though whether she was unconscious or dead was a mystery to Alicarius, who had more pressing issues to deal with-namely the monster that Ocato had become.

“It's just you and me now,” it hissed at Alicarius, who had picked himself up and retrieved his halberd. “This will be fun!”

It leapt at Alicarius again, who bought his halberd to bear to block its attack. They returned to the same furious exchange of blows as before, neither one yielding or tiring. But Alicarius knew that sooner or later he would lose. The daemonhost was full of merciless energy, but he was just flesh and blood-he would get tired and make a mistake sooner or later.

Alicarius leant back under a swing of claws aimed to take his head off, and still bent, span his halberd in an effort to kill the daemon, which threw itself back. Forcing his torso forwards, Alicarius bought his halberd to bear in a wide arc, it's shaft smashing into the Ocato-thing that was already charging forwards. Alicarius allowed the weapon's momentum to swing itself into his other hand and charged at it, swinging his halberd down like the axe of an executioner. Before his weapon could reach it, however, the daemonhost suddenly delivered a vicious kick to Alicarius' chest, knocking him to the ground and sending his halberd skittering away. There was a painful crunch as one of his ribs cracked.

“Now to finish this,” the daemonhost said, running a forked tongue around its lips.

The doors to Ocato's chambers bust open, and a group of guards rushed in.

“Sir!” one of them said. “There was an attack-half of the guards have turned...”

He trailed off as he saw the daemon-Ocato crouching over Alicarius, who was desperately trying to struggle away.

“Later,” it hissed. “I have more pressing issues to deal with.”

It raised its claws to deliver the killing blow.

They struck down, the massive talons plunging into his chest, piercing his hearts and organs. Alicarius roared in pain, convulsing and kicking wildly, before slumping down, still.

“And now for the rest of you,” the daemon-Ocato said, scraping its bloodied claws together in a mockery of sharpening them, enjoying their winces at the harsh scratching noise. The guards raised their weapons, but most looked ready to flee.

Then Alicarius' halberd sliced right through it.

An expression of shock and rage appeared on the Daemonhost's face, before the top half of its torso slid of the rest of its body. Brackish black blood pooled on the floor around its corpse, hissing angrily as it bubbled away the stone.

Alicarius stood, blood still dripping from his wounds. He took a few stumbling steps forwards, the guards parting before him, before he reached the scorched remnants of Ocato's wardrobe. Bending down, carefully, wincing from the pain of his wounds, Alicarius gently picked up the unconscious Serene in his massive arms. He walked to one of the guards, swaying gently, and handed her over.

“Look after her,” he said. “She was brave.”

And with that, like a massive oak tree being felled, Alicarius collapsed.

[minque]

Oh....I'd say! That was one kind of a fight! Now I wonder....what will come hereafter? i just can't wait to learn more.


Hmmm, did she make it?

[Colonel Mustard]

Oh....I'd say! That was one kind of a fight! Now I wonder....what will come hereafter? i just can't wait to learn more.


Hmmm, did she make it?

I'd be more worried about Alicarius myself. Serene just got a backhand, while he got two big holes in his chest!

[Colonel Mustard]

And the next part!

Part 22-Sickness

Alicarius was in darkness, shrouded in shadows, shadows that gnawed and scratched at him. He had to get them off, he had to remove them! He thrashed and kicked, swiping at the darkness that to engulf and smother him.

“Back!” he roared. “Get away from me! Away!”

He swung and punched at them, even as invisible hands tried to hold him back. Vaguely he heard voices.

“Oh gods, he's delirious.”

“Hold him down, there's no knowing the damage he'll do.”

He thrashed against one of the hands gripping him, and it retreated.

“My arm-what the hell has he done to it! For Azura's sake, someone get him with a sleeping spell!”

“What do you think I'm trying to do? Paralyse him-I need him still before I can do it properly.”

He suddenly felt a great weakness grip his limbs, and they collapsed.

“He's tired himself out. Quick, put the sleep spell on. We can't have him waking up and trying to kill everything while we get him to the infirmary.”

The darkness descended over Alicarius fully, and he could struggle no more.

#

“Who is The Emperor to you?” the warrior lord, looming, huge and dour eyed, asked the boy before him.

“The Emperor is the lord of the seasons and hunt,” the boy said. “He decides when the clan eats and when we move. He decides when the sun rises and falls. He decides when the herds which we hunt move through our territory.”

“Very good,” the warrior lord said. “And who is the voice of The Emperor?”

“His priests are his voice,” the boy answered.

The warrior lord nodded.

“And who is the arm of The Emperor?”

“His space marines and his soldiers.”

“And what does The Emperor want from his subjects?”

“He wants our devotion.”

“And what does The Emperor want from you?”

The boy hesitated, confused.

“My devotion?” he asked after a short pause.

The warrior lord frowned.

“Close enough,” he said. “Follow me.”

Obediently, the boy followed him.

“From now on, you will have no name,” the warrior lord said. “You will earn the privilege of a name if you survive the initiation. Until then, you will simply be called 'Aspirant.' Do you understand?”

The boy nodded.

“Yes sir,” he said.

“Good,” the warrior lord said. They reached a pair of granite doors, where they stopped. “Here you go on alone, without my guidance. This is the first of the six hundred and sixty six trials of detestation. You are a promising young man-I wish you luck, aspirant.”

“Thank you sir,” the boy said. “I will do my best.”

The warrior lord handed the boy a wooden spear.

“This will be the only weapons you can used during the first trial,” he said. “If you use any other, even your fists, you will be disqualified and denied the chance of ever joining our order.”

The boy nodded. Gently pushing him by the shoulder, the Warrior Lord opened the door and the boy found himself around the edge of an arena. He saw several other granite doors, next to which stood several young men like himself-the oldest was no older than fifteen. Bright lights shone down from the stone ceiling, while in a large viewing box stood another warrior lord. He had the same serious, critical air around him as the warrior lord who had mentored the boy had, and surveyed the young men, each of them holding spears, with a look that told him all he needed to know in a moment.

“Aspirants,” he said, his voice echoing in the enclosed stone room. “The first trial is a trial of strength. When I give the word, you will begin to fight, and you will kill if you must. When I call for a halt, you will halt immediately. Do you understand? Very good. Now, begin!”

Holding his spear, the boy advanced towards the person next to him cautiously, before suddenly hearing the sound of running feet behind him. He ducked and span, to graze the side of a young man charging at him.

“Oh no, he's having another fit again.”

“The sleeping spell, quick!”

He was knocked to the floor by the impact, and tried to rise, but suddenly found his limbs weak, like water. The others in the arena began to advance him. The boy tried desperately to raise his limbs, to fight, but found he was completely paralysed.

“Paralyse him, come on, hurry up!”

“Help!” he called, his child's voice weak and helpless. “Someone help! This isn't fair! This isn't how it was supposed to happen! Help!”

“Don't worry, we're helping you. Just go to sleep now.”

As the spears stabbed down, blackness took over.

#

“Will he be alright?”

“I don't know. I've never tried to heal someone like him before.”

“He's just like a normal human, isn't he? Just bigger.”

“He isn't, captain, you can see that. Just look at that thing on his chest-I daren't touch that, there's no knowing what'll happen if I do.”

“I don't care what it takes, sort him out.”

“What do you think I'm doing?”

“Well try harder. Use a spell or something.”

“I can't-whenever I do it just triggers another fit.”

“Well, I dunno, keep trying.”

“I have been, and it's not safe.”

“Well there's got to be something!”

“Captain, calm down. If you don't, I'll have to ask you to leave.”

“Sod you, I'm not leaving him.”

“Get out and get a drink of water or something. I won't have you in here if you're going to shout.”

“I'm not leaving.”

“Out, captain, now.”

“Fine, I'll go. For Akatosh's sake, I can't even visit my own friend without my damn authority being disputed. Some legion this is.”

#

The hand was cool as it was laid upon his brow, which creased instinctively.

“How is he?”

“He's not getting any better or worse. He's just staying in the same state.”

“Can I have moment alone with him please? Just a quick one.”

“Alright then. Call me if something happens.”

The gentle pressure of the hand was removed, and he felt a voice murmur in his ear; “It's me. Serene. Can you hear me?”

Serene. Serene. He knew that name. Where though? Where? Damn, he had to remember it! Remember!

Then he remembered. Serranna. Serranna, the girl he had loved, the girl with the wild, jet black hair and the blue eyes that he could stare into for hours. And there they were, sitting on the hill, the same hill that they always sat on.

“So you have to go then?” she asked. Her voice was flat and calm, accepting of the finality of his decision.

The boy nodded.

“I have to,” he said. “I must.”

“But...but you can't,” she said. “We were...”

“I know,” the boy said. “I know. It hurts me too.”

“Tashan, you can't do this to me,” Serranna said, eyes beginning to redden. “I lost all my family to that thing and I need you now, more than ever.”

“I have to go, they'll kill me if I don't,” he said. “I don't have a choice. But if I do, think of all things I can do to protect the Imperium.”

“I don't care about the Imperium,” Serranna replied, throwing her arms around him. “I just care about you.”

“So do I, Serranna, but I keep saying, I have to,” Tashan replied. “Look, the inquisitor said I could even join the space marines, that they're always looking for strong young men. Think of the people I could help then, the glory I could earn.”

Serranna suddenly drew back, angry.

“Is that all you ever think about?” she demanded suddenly, trying to blink back the tears in her eyes. “Your own selfish glory?”

“What? I...no,” Tashan said. “Of course I don't. I think about you more than anything.”

“I hope you do,” Serranna said. She slumped against him, and began to cry out and out. Tashan felt his own eyes sting and he held her tightly. “Don't leave me, please.”

“I don't want to,” he said. “But I don't have a choice.”

“We always have a choice,” Serranna replied, into his shoulder.

“Not this time,” Tashan said.

“Then make me a promise,” she said suddenly.

“Anything,” Tashan said.

“Promise that you'll never forget me,” she said. “Ever.”

“I promise,” Tashan replied. “I swear I will remember you, always.”

But he hadn't. He'd broken his promise when all memories of his former home were wiped away, when they had been replaced with nothing but devotion to the Emperor.

“I'm sorry, Serranna!” he called out. “I'm so, so sorry! Please, please, forgive me.”

He began to weep openly, reaching out to her and holding her tighter than before.

“I'm so sorry,” he said, opening his eyes.

Then he realised she was screaming in pain.

He released his grip suddenly, and awoke fully to the Imperial Palace's infirmary. A high elf in white robes rushed in while Serene staggered back, shocked and stunned.

“What?” Alicarius asked impotently. “No, you aren't her. I was so close. So damn close!”

With a yell of frustration, he punched the wall, the plaster crumbling away underneath the impact.

“Alicarius, what are you doing?” Serene asked. “Are you alright?”

“I...I don't know,” he said. “I just don't know any more.”

“What happened?” the elf asked.

“He just grabbed me, and started shouting to someone called Serranna how sorry he was,” Serene said.

“I did?” Alicarius asked, suddenly concerned. “Are you alright?”

“I'm fine,” Serene said. “But you gave me quite a shock.”

“I'm sorry,” Alicarius said. “I don't know what came over me.”

“It's alright,” Serene said. “You didn't know what you were doing. Who was this Serranna you were shouting about, though?”

“She was the girl I was going to marry, before I became a space marine,” Alicarius said. “I had my memories of her erased when I joined them, so I wouldn't be distracted from my duties.”

“That...that's horrible,” Serene said.

“That's the Imperium,” Alicarius said phlegmatically. “But you, Serene, you look just like her.”

“What?” Serene asked. “How?”

“I don't know,” Alicarius said. “But you do-the same hair, the same eyes, the same kind of face, even a similar name.”

“Look, Alicarius, you need to get some sleep,” the elf, no doubt the healer in charge, said. “Lady Sarethi, if you could leave him, he needs rest.”

Serene nodded.

“I'll go then,” she said. “Goodnight, Alicarius.”

“Goodnight,” Alicarius said, as the healer and Serene left. He didn't sleep though-he was too busy thinking.

[Illydoor]

Wow Bean I've just finished reading and catching up on this and you know I've seen most of your work on BL, but I must say I think you've outdone yourself here. The transition from 40k to TES is so well written you could hardly notice it, and if you've had experience of both universes it just makes it all the sweeter. I love how you present Alicarius and his thoughts and feelings about this strange world, as if he really were just dropped outta' the warp into Cyrodiil.

I'll post what little crit there is if you like when I have time.

Good work !

[minque]

Very intriguing very...I like it very much...my my I hope they're gonna be ok...can't wait til the next installment...

[Illydoor]

Can I just ask since I'm new here, is Serene a character of your creation Minque? If so then where are the stories with her in I'd very much like to read them, she sounds like such a cool character.

I've just got a teeny weeny piece of crit for you on that last post bean, it seems a bit dialogue-orientated - which is mostly fine, but you might want to break it up a bit with some adjectives and verbs, even if it's just 'he said nervously' or something like that.

Other than that, it's still as thrilling as ever. And as for that traitor Ocato I always had an inkling... (as well as the fact that I thought his name was a palindrome for about a month, before I actually read it backwards and discovered myself to be very, very stupid :S)

[Colonel Mustard]

Other than that, it's still as thrilling as ever. And as for that traitor Ocato I always had an inkling... (as well as the fact that I thought his name was a palindrome for about a month, before I actually read it backwards and discovered myself to be very, very stupid :S)

*Facepalms*

Anyway, I'll see what I can do about there being two much dialogue.

And Serene is a creation of Minque's-a somewhat tearful lady at times, but one who I've come to love. You can find her tale over on Minque's personal subforum (privelige I've yet to earn).

*Gives Minque a pointed look*

[Illydoor]

Hmm Ocato...Otaco...Otaco... o-taco?

*rubs chin*

ah ha! taco! I always thought those pastries were evil! Damn mexican's and their crazyass cuisine!

This post has been edited by Illydoor: Mar 17 2009, 10:05 PM

[Colonel Mustard]

Right, before Illydoor gets too carried away with formulating conspiracy theories about food, here's another part to get things back on topic.

Part 23-Subterfuge

Alicarius spent a whole week recovering from his fight with Ocato. He was extensively quizzed about what he knew of the High Chancellor's treachery by several people in the process, mainly important people from various organisations devoted to the Empire's safety. Jauffre had visited as well to find out about the assassination attempt and Ocato's betrayal. It did explain the excellent information the Mythic Dawn had been receiving, for example, how they knew about the Emperor's secret escape route and Martin. The young man also sent his regards, but obviously for safety reasons he couldn't visit in person.

Serrio had rushed into Alicarius' room as soon as he had heard he was awake, and it turned out he had been waiting outside the infirmary for the whole week that Alicarius had been asleep. Alicarius was touched by his lieutenant's loyalty-he hoped that the incident would help Serrio forget any feelings of resentment towards him.

Serene had occasionally visited too. Apart from a few bumps and bruises, she had been left unscathed by Ocato's attack, and had been more concerned about him. What she was more curious about was Alicarius', or Tashan's, former love, Serranna. She thought the curious coincidence through, but could make nothing of it, other than it being an unusual twist of fate. Her last visit was to tell him that she was heading back home to Vvardenfel.

“You should come and visit us in Ald-Ruhn some time if you're ever there,” she said. “Athyn would be delighted to meet you.”

“If I ever do come, it'll be the first thing I do,” Alicarius replied. “Of course, if I can ever manage to extricate myself from my duties to the Legion first. I'll see if I can get myself transferred there.”

Serene gave a gentle laugh, one that seemed all too similar to Sarrennas' to Alicarius, and smiled.

“If you do, see if you can find a friend of mine-Ismin the Dreamer,” she said. “She works in the Legion herself.”

“I'll do just that then,” Alicarius said. “After I've sorted out this mess with the daedra, some time in Vvardenfel would be like a holiday.”

After she had left, Alicarius was left alone with his thoughts.

He was discharged a few days later and, along with Serrio, headed back to Chorrol.

The two days needed for travelling were uneventful, and by the time they had got back, Serrio was more concerned about what the men were doing to in his absence than about any bandits on the road.

What they did find was a garrison living in fear of the deputy Serrio had put in place, a huge, tyrannical orc known as Reglad grak-Korrosh, and the hash regime of punishment he had installed made sure the men hadn't put a toe out of line. Obviously he had taken extreme measures to make sure he didn't have a repetition of Serrio's week.

The first thing Alicarius did, much to the relief of the men, was to cancel out almost all of the punishments that Reglad had instated for the more minor crimes. He also decided to ignore the fact that the night after Reglad had been removed from his seat of power, he had been beaten an knocked unconscious by a group of unknown assailants, before having his clothes stolen. As Serrio pointed out; “It serves him right for being a honoured user.”

Largely the week was uneventful, much to the relief of both Alicarius and Serrio, until there was a surprise visit from Walker on the Water.

“Greetings sir,” Walker said, who was waiting for Alicarius outside Castle Chorrol's barracks. Alicarius noticed that the argonian needed a pair of crutches to help him walk-obviously the stab wound he had suffered was still having an effect on him. “I come with a message from Jauffre.”

After the initial greetings had been exchanged, Alicarius asked about what Walker wanted.

“Jauffre has a message asking for your help,” Walker said.

“Again?” Alicarius asked. “I seem to be getting dragged away from my duties almost every other week.”

“Actually, he was hoping you could give him a recommendation for someone to to a job for him,” Walker replied. “We have a lead on the Mythic Dawn, but we can't pursue without the help of someone outside of the Blades-with Ocato's treachery, Jauffre isn't sure whether the Mythic Dawn know which agents are ours, and doesn't want to take any risks.”

“So he wants me to send someone along to help him?” Alicarius asked.

“Exactly,” Walker said. “He wants someone who knows how to fight, is completely loyal to the Empire, isn't too noticeable and has enough brains to work out any puzzles.”

Alicarius only needed to think for a moment.

“I know just the man,” he said.

#

“Have you gone mad?” Serrio asked Alicarius.

“No Serrio, I'm sure I'm still sane,” Alicarius replied.

“Are you sure you haven't taken any mind altering substances like Skooma or Moon Sugar?” Serrio asked

“Yes.

“You certain?”

“Yes.”

“So you seriously want me to back to the Imperial City to investigate the whereabouts of a cult full of maniacs?”

“For goodness sake Serrio, this could be our only chance of recovering the Amulet of Kings,” Alicarius snapped. “Of course it's risky.

Serrio raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Alright,” he said. “Alright, I'll do it. But I'm not happy about it, believe me.”

“You aren't in the Legion to be happy, you're in the Legion to do your duty.”

Serrio fixed him with an impassive gaze before finally saying; “You're an evil, evil man, Alicarius.”

“So you'll do it?”

“I'll do it. But if I get killed by some insane cultist, I'm coming back and haunting you.”

#

After the two days of travelling, Serrio finally arrived, tired out and bad tempered, He was waved through the gate by the two guards there, and then consulted the note he had been given. The Merchant's Inn, Imperial City Market District. Look for Baurus.

So, the Merchant's inn, he mused. Sounded fancy, but hopefully he wouldn't be barred entry just because he looked a little messy. He gave an armpit an experimental sniff. Correction-very messy and rather smelly too. He just hoped they had a bath there.

The Merchant's Inn, was, as Serrio had guessed, one of the city's more well-to-do inns, with the sign kept meticulously varnished by the owner. He entered the inn, trying to ignore the furious glare innkeeper was giving him.

He looked for a Baurus-it was a redguard name, and the only redguard in the room was sitting down by the bar. Serrio surreptitiously pulled up a stool next him, and asked for a mug of ale.

“You Baurus?” he asked quietly. Baurus nodded. “Good. I was told I was going to have to meet you.”

Baurus nodded again as Serrio's ale was put down on the table.

“After you have finished your drink,” he said. “I'm going to get up. The man sitting at the table over there-” at this he nodded at an imperial with neatly trimmed brown hair- “is going to get up and follow me. I want you to follow him. Understand.”

Serrio nodded, and hurried down the rest of his drink. Placing it down on the bar, he politely declined the offer of another from the barman. He watched the imperial as closely as he could without attracting undue attention, and waited for him to get up. As soon as he passed out of view, down towards the cellar, Serrio rose from his seat and followed, hand on the hilt of his dagger.

The imperial followed Baurus down the steps of the cellar, drawing his own dagger, completely unaware of Serrio's presence. Baurus was rummaging through a chest, and and behind him, the imperial raised his dagger, ready to strike.

The Serrio grabbed him around the throat, and whispered; “You're nicked!” into his ear.

The imperial tried struggle away, but Baurus had turned and drawn his katana. The imperial slammed his elbow into the side of Serrio's head, who released his grip and staggered away, stunned. He swung his dagger at Baurus wildly and desperately, but he was outmatched-a panicked man with a dagger was no match for a pair of fully trained soldiers and a quick stab from Serrio's longsword quickly finished the fight.

“Check if he has anything on him,” Baurus said.

Serrio crouched down and rifled through the man's pockets.

“Nothing,” he said. “Just some gold and...hello!”

“What is it?” Baurus asked.

Serrio held up a small red book which he had found in the man's pocket.

“Commentaries on the Mythic Dawn, by Mankar Camoran,” he read, before flicking through the pages. “Usual rubbish daedra worshippers go on about-the falsehood of the Nine and all that, how the daedric princes are the true gods. No clues about the Mythic Dawn's whereabouts though.”

“There must be something in there,” Baurus said. “Perhaps a code?”

“Well, it says it's the first volume,” Serrio pointed out. “So there has to be at least one other.”

Baurus frowned thoughtfully, before saying; “Go and talk to Ta Meena over in the Arcane University. She specialises in daedric cults, and ought to know more about the books.”

“I'll head over there straight away,” Serrio said. He glanced at the imperial's corpse. “You realise the poor innkeeper is going to be in for one hell of a shock when he finds this.”

[Illydoor]

Nice update. It's good to see you're giving Serrio some action, that guy is the kind of character you just have to get along with no matter what, he's just so...likeable lol.

Good work!

This post has been edited by Illydoor: Mar 22 2009, 11:12 PM

[Colonel Mustard]

Well I've had a soft spot for him myself some time and I thought this would be the perfect chance for him to step into the limelight.

[Colonel Mustard]

And some more fun with Serrio.

Part 24-Book hunting

The Arcane University, Serrio reflected, was almost like a miniature version of the Imperial City itself-there was a large ring wall around it, it had its own guards and there was tall tower, built to imitate White Gold Tower, rising from the centre. In all honesty he didn't think it was terribly original, but put it down to the fact that they were all wizards there, so probably shouldn't be bothered with originality, and probably were more concerned about whether or not the walls could contain the blast of an experimental spell gone horribly wrong.

Serrio headed through the massive gates, noting the braziers burning with purple flames, and into the main tower, scanning for anyone who might look like a Tar Meena. It was an argonian name, or a khajiit one, though Serrio had yet to see one of the cat people use magic in anger. Usually when they were angry, and their smugglers were, funnily enough, never too pleased to see him, they usually just tried to tear his face off with their claws.

He saw an argonian reading through a thick volume, and hurried over to her.

“Excuse me,” he said politely. “I was looking for a Tar Meena. It's a matter of great importance.”

“You're speaking to her,” the argonian replied, looking up from her book. “What can I do for you?”

“Thought you would be,” Serrio said. “I was told that you could look into a certain book for me.”

“Which book would that be?” Tar Meena asked.

Serrio pulled the slim red book from his pocket.

“The commentaries on the Mythic Dawn,” Serrio replied, showing it to her.

Tar Meena gave him a look that was fairly indecipherable to him, but he took a guess at it being one of bemusement.

“Has Jauffre asked you to do this?” she asked.

“He might have,” Serrio replied, trying to act cool. “Then again, he might not have.”

“He did, didn't he?”

“Oh fine, he did. But this is important, alright.”

“Don't worry, Jauffre's asked me to do things like this for him before. I won't tell a soul. Anyway, onto the book.”

Tar Meena picked up the slim volume and flicked through it with a critical eye.

“Yes,” she said eventually. “This is the genuine thing. One of the first editions published, if I'm not mistaken.”

“So is it worth much then?” Serrio asked. He always took care to see if there was anything that could supplement his rather modest salary as a captain.

“To the right buyer, could be worth a few thousand septims,” Tar Meena replied, trying to ignore the fact that Serrio had suddenly acquired a wild grin and a slightly glazed look in his eyes. “But that's beside the point right now. There are four volumes, each one detailing the history of the Mythic Dawn and their beliefs. The first and second volumes are fairly common-we have a copy of the second in the library here in fact, but the third is extremely rare and I've yet to find a copy of the fourth volume.”

“Anyone I could talk to about finding them?” Serrio asked.

“You could try First Edition over in the Market District,” Tar Meena suggested. “Phintias, the shopkeeper there, is good at collecting rare books-I've got a few from him myself.”

“I'll get going immediately then,” Serrio said. He rubbed his hands together as he left, thinking about how much he could sell his newly acquired book for.

#

First Edition, like the Merchant's Inn, was one of the Imperial City's more upmarket establishments. While the sign outside the door, which had always been an indicator of how posh the shopkeeper was to Serrio, was in good shape, it didn't have the same look of meticulous care about it than the one outside the Merchant's Inn had. The shop itself was empty, apart from a middle aged dark elf, presumably Phintias, at the counter, and it had the air of quiet fussiness about it.

“Can I help you?” he asked, in a slightly sharp way.

“I was looking for a volume of the commentaries on the Mythic Dawn,” Serrio replied.

“Of course,” the elf replied. “Which volume was it you were looking for?”

“I'm trying to collect the whole set,” Serrio said. “And I was looking for the third volume-I was told you had a knack for finding rare books.”

Phintias frowned for a moment.

“I do have a copy,” he said. “But unfortunately it has been reserved for another customer already.”

“That is a problem,” Serrio said. “But is there a chance that perhaps we could come to an agreement?”

“I can see that you do wish to get a copy of the book,” Phintias replied. “But I'm afraid that if I backed out of this agreement it would be extremely damaging for my reputation.”

“Are you entirely sure?” Serrio asked, pulling out his copy of the first volume. “I've been told that this is one of the very first editions of the Commentaries, and is extremely valuable.”

Phintias took the book and examined it with the critical eye of an expert.

“Whoever told you that was right,” he said eventually. “This is worth an awful lot.”

“Then perhaps we can arrange a trade?” Serrio asked. “I give you this extremely valuable book in exchange for an extremely rare one.”

“I thought you were trying to get the entire set though?” Phintias suddenly asked.

“The first volume is common enough,” Serrio replied, thinking on his feet. “I'm sure I can find another one without too much trouble. But right here, and right now, with Volume Three so close, I'm willing to exchange this for one.”

Phintias looked thoughtful for a moment, but then shook his head.

“I'm afraid I can't,” he said. “But if you wish to speak to Gwinas-he's the young man buying the book-then he'll be coming in just a minute. Perhaps you can negotiate something with him.”

Serrio elected to wait and browsed around the shop, taking a look at some of the books there, before finally just sitting down on one of the chairs in the room. Before long, a wood elf, his blonde hair styled in one of those ridiculous quiffs that seemed so popular amongst them, arrived.

“I'm here to collect the third volume of the Commentaries,” he said politely to Phintias, after the initial pleasantries had been exchanged.

“Of course,” Phitias said, reaching behind him on the shelf to pass the wood elf a book. The wood elf handed over a bag of gold, and then left after Phintias wished him a nice day.

Serrio got up from seat, and followed him for a short while, before deciding to just talk to him and persuade him to hand the book over.

“What do you want?” the elf asked warily.

“I was interested in the book you got in First Edition,” Serrio said. “I've been looking for a copy myself for quite some time and...”

“Well you can't have it,” the wood elf snapped rather petulantly. “You people all think you can bully me, well you know what? You can't!”

“Calm down, calm down,” Serrio said. “I'm not here to bully you. I'm here to try and get a bloody book.”

“Well you can't have it,” the bosmer said. “You won't stop me joining the Mythic Dawn!”

“They killed the Emperor, you little pillock!” Serrio, who had had enough of the wood elf's childishness, suddenly snapped.

The elf looked aghast, and took a step back.

“Is that true?” he asked.

“It's true,” Serrio said, nodding. “And they were responsible for what happened at Kvatch.”

The elf pulled the book and a piece of parchment out of his pocket and stuffed them into Serrio's hand.

“Take it,” he said. “I want nothing more to do with them, ever again. And the note was from someone who called himself my sponsor-he told me to meet him to get the fourth book.”

“Um, thank you,” Serrio said, as the wood elf hurried off. He read the note in hands, and decided it was time to report to Baurus.

[Colonel Mustard]

Part 25-Mythic Dawn

Baurus was waiting for him back at the Merchant's Inn. Judging by the wary looks the innkeeper was giving him, he knew about the dead body in his cellar, and was also aware that Baurus was a member of the Blades.

“Any luck?” he asked Serrio as he sat down next to him.

“Yep,” Serrio replied. “I got the third book, and take a look at this.”

He handed Baurus the note, who read it over a few times.

“The Elven Garden district's sewers huh?” he asked. “I know just the place it says. And the meeting's soon. We'd best get going if we want to get there on time.”

They hurried through the city as it began to get dark, round the back of a house and to a sewer grate. Baurus lifted it up, trying to ignore the smell, and hurried down the ladder, closely followed by Serrio.

The trip through the sewers was fairly uneventful, only punctuated by a run in with some goblins and a mudcrab. By the time they had arrived at a door that marked their meeting place, both of them were still hot, sweaty and tired-they had trapped heat of fermenting sewage to thank for that.

“This is it,” Baurus said, wiping a film of sweat from his brow. “I've always wondered what the table in here was for.”

“So what's the plan?” Serrio asked.

“I'll head in there to try and get the book,” Baurus replied. “There's to the left door at the top, which leads to a walkway above the room. Get up there and watch the meeting, and stay as backup. If things go wrong, we'll just have to kill this sponsor and take the book.”

“Better than nothing,” Serrio said. “Good luck.”

Serrio headed through the door and up the stairs, lurking in the shadows of the stairwell. Below him, Baurus entered and sat at the table.

From a side door, an altmer, tall and contemptuous, walked in, and gave Baurus a sneering look.

“You will remain silent,” the elf said. “I will explain what it means to join our organisation and then you will tell me if you still wish to join it. Do you understand?”

Baurus nodded obediently.

“Good,” the elf said. He began to drone on about Mehrunes Dagon or some rubbish like that, and Serrio stopped listening as he saw a pair of guards, wearing that strange armour all the Mythic Dawn wore, walk onto the walkway. Serrio shrank into the shadows, reaching towards his sword and dagger.

One of the guards noticed something in the shadows, and drawing his weapon, began to stalk towards Serrio. Baurus pretended not to notice, but let his hand rest on the hilt of his Katana.

The guard reached Serrio's position, but before he could react, Serrio lunged forward, sword and dagger drawn, and plunged them into the man's chest, sending him keeling back, choking on his own blood.

“I told you to come alone!” the outraged elf yelled, but he was stopped speaking by Baurus kicking the table and sending it flying into him. The redguard sprang to his feet to dodge the blast of lightning the prone elf sent at him, then charged, slashing his katana across the altmer's chest.

The second guard had charged forwards into Serrio, and for a minute they duelled, mace against sword, before Serrio smashed the pommel of his sword into the side of his enemy's head and causing him to topple off the bridge. He landed with a painful crunch, his neck at an unnatural angle.

“You alright?” Serrio asked Baurus as he wiped his sword clean of blood.

“I'm fine,” Baurus replied. He slipped his hand into the pockets of the elf's robe, and triumphantly pulled out a slim red book. “Commentaries on the Mythic Dawn, Volume Four,” he announced. “We've got it.”

He handed it over to Serrio.

“Get it back to Tar Meena at the university,” he said. “She'll be pleased to see this.

#

“Tar Meena?” Serrio called out quietly as he entered.

“Ah, Serrio,” Tar Meena said as she saw him. She at a desk in the corner, and the first two volumes of the Commentaries open, and was reading through them. “Did you have any luck getting the third volume?”

“I got three and four!” Serrio announced triumphantly. Tar Meena raised the horny ridges she had instead of eyebrows in surprise.

“You got the fourth volume?” she asked. “Let me see.”

Serrio handed over the slim books, which Tar Meena flicked through with an air of scholarly excitement.

“Give me a few days to study the books and I ought to have found out more about the Mythic Dawn,” she said, snout already buried in the third volume. “I think they have a code in them about where they are, as a kind of test for those wanting to join. If I'm right, then I ought to be able to point you in the direction of their headquarters.”

Serrio nodded and left her to her work, and off went to get a celebratory drink.

#

A few days later, and Serrio was back at the Arcane University again, look for Tar Meena. He found her at the same desk, looking tired but triumphant.

“I cracked the code,” she announced proudly as Serrio approached. “It was simple really-all the first letters of each paragraph added up to say 'Green Emperor Way, where tower touches midday sun.' I worked it out-it's at midday, by the tomb of Prince Camaril.”

“How clever,” Serrio murmured, before suddenly realising something. “It's midday now! I'd best go.”

He dashed out of the building with a yell of “Thanks again!” and to the Green Emperor's Way.

His mad sprint bought him to Green Emperor's Way just in time. He looked for the grave and quickly found it-a large mausoleum with Prince Camarail inscribed in large letters on it.

He walked around it a few times, but couldn't find anything on it that could indicate the location of a Mythic Dawn base. Then, when the sun reached its zenith, glowing red lines formed on one side of the tomb, away from the main path that most people would take. The lines formed a map of the eastern half of Cyrodiil. A large outline of a town formed, with golden letters proclaiming it as Cheyindal, while to the north a dot formed, marked out as Lake Arrius Caverns.

So that was the place he needed to go, Serrio mused. Well, Alicarius had sent him to find the cultists. Now he had done so, Alicarius could damn well clear them out of there himself. And good luck to him.

[minque]

Very nice Colonel! I like the way this story is heading....you're talented, you really are!

[Colonel Mustard]

Part 26-War

Two days later

Serrio pushed the, curiously unmanned, gates of Chorrol open, to find the main street deserted, except for a pigeon industriously pecking at the remnants of a loaf of bread. His forehead creased in a frown of concern, he headed towards the castle, then stopped as he heard the sound of cheering and yelling coming from the north of the castle.

He hurried over to see what was going on, to be greeted by the most bizarre sight imaginable.

Two towers, fairly ramshackle affairs built of planks, had been constructed on the town's common area, and what seemed to be the entire garrison was fighting over them. Half of them seemed to be wearing blue sashes, the other wearing red ones, and they met in the middle, shields locked together in a wall. Both of them were shoving against eachother, the men's weapon's lashing out over the top. Around them, the rest of Chorrol's citizens were gathered, cheering them on. One particularly enterprising Nord had even set up a stall to take bets.

For a moment, it seemed that the stalemate would last for a long while, before a trio of men from the red group pushed round from the side, knocking their opponents aside before the entire blue wall crumbled as the men fell back, gaining a cheer from the crowd. Forced back, the blue team retreated to the base of their tower, shields raised.

The red team surrounded them, pushing them back to the base of the blue's tower, before they withdrew up the ladder, refusing to give ground. A group of five men bravely elected to stay at the base of the ladder to allow their comrades to get away. They held the attackers back long enough for them to get up the ladder, before they were overwhelmed and pushed out.

“Alright, enough!” Alicarius yelled, holding up his hands, causing the legionnaires to halt. There were some cheers and groans from the crowd as they collected or parted with bets.

“Good work, everyone,” Alicarius said, as the legionnaires around the tower dispersed to grab a drink. “Well done to Orras' men.”

The five men who had held the base of the tower gave a cheer.

“What's this all about?” Serrio asked, as he hurried over to Alicarius.

“Serrio,” Alicarius said, smiling. “You arrived sooner that I thought.”

“I mightn't have arrived at all,” Serrio said accusingly. “Those cultists are a nasty bunch, and no mistake. But you haven't said what this is supposed to be doing.”

“Training,” Alicarius said. “For large scale combat-they've gotten used to fighting just bandits. I need them fighting well trained soldiers, so why not legionnaires?”

“Why though?” Serrio asked.

“Read this,” Alicarius said, handing Serrio a copy of the Black Horse Courier.

Skyrim invades Morrowind! the headline exclaimed.

“Ah,” Serrio said slowly. “This doesn't look good, does it? What happened?”

Alicarius nodded.

“They attacked from Rifton,” Alicarius said. “They crossed the Skyrim mountains in a few days and have already taken Blacklight.”

“So you're worried about an attack on Chorrol?” Serrio asked.

“After Bruma, Chorrol's the closest to Skryim, and I don't think Jsashe is going to stop there,” Alicarius said. He had heard a few things about the witch that ruled the town of Rifton, and non of them were good-she was ruthless, cruel and cunning, and a very dangerous foe indeed.

“Bruma's been taken?” Serrio asked.

“Taken? Pah!” Alicarius spat, causing the grass his saliva hit to bubble and hiss. “The countess just handed over the city as quick as you like. Filthy traitor.”

“So what are we going to do now?” Serrio asked.

“Jsashe isn't going to stop until she has the entirety of Cyrodiil in her hands,” Alicarius said. “She conquered Skyrim while we were distracted by the Emperor's assassination, and now Ocato's gone she's taken Bruma. She's proclaimed herself prophetess of Lorkhan and has the entire nation behind her. It's as I feared-Tamriel's already falling apart.”

“What about Cloud Ruler Temple?” Serrio asked suddenly.

“I received word from Jauffre,” Alicarius said. “They negotiated a truce with the Skyrim forces. Still, if the army want to take it then it's their funeral. I've seen that place, and believe me, it's impenetrable.”

“What are we going to do though?” Serrio asked.

“Us?” Alicarius asked. “We're going to war.”

#

Chorrol's army was on the move. From fresh faced recruits to grizzled veterans, soldiers marched from the city's gates, a full three hundred of them. Only a skeleton guard was left behind, the town's garrison otherwise leaving in it's entirety.

The odds were stacked against them, and badly so. The Nord army numbered in the thousands, the entire nation's soldiery fighting on the two fronts of Morrowind and Northern Cyrodiil. And Skyrim's soldiery was practically the entire nation. There seemed no way that a few hundred soldiers from Chorrol could hope to halt the rampaging monster that was the Nord war machine.

But Alicarius had a plan, and even though he said so himself, a damn good one at that.

He did not lead the column, leaving that to Serrio, but instead occupied himself in supervising the wagons that were following it, particularly the covered carts. He needed them intact.

For the past week, booms and blasts had echoed around Chorrol as Alicarius tested his new devices and trained the soldiers in their usage. With luck, they would turn the tide of battle, and could well revolutionise the way wars were fought throughout Nirn.

Karros came up next to him, saluting.

“Everything is in order sir,” he said. “Their packed away safely-I saw to it myself.”

“Good,” Alicarius said. Karros turned to leave, before Alicarius stopped him with a question. “Karros, what do you think of these?”

“With all due respect, I don't like them sir,” the veteran replied. “They're noisy, they're heavy and they hurt like hell if you hold them wrong and fire. Give me a bow any day.”

“True,” Alicarius said. “But think of the damage they'll cause. Believe me, the Nord army will crumple when they see this.”

“And if they don't?” Karros asked. “What about a plan b?”

“I'll be the plan b,” Alicarius said.

“There are thousands of them,” Karros said. “Even you can't...”

Alicarius raised his hand.

“I killed a deadrahost with no armour and only my halberd,” he said. “I don't mean to boast, but I'm fairly sure I can handle some nords.”

“Thousands of them though?” Karros asked. “No offense sir, but you must be mad to think you can.”

Alicarius shrugged.

“If that's the case, then I'll just have to be a little mad,” he said.

[Illydoor]

Well this is very interesting, a war with the nords eh?

I hope Alicarius has packed his power armoured scarf and hat then. I assume this is goign to tie in witht he main plot as well? Something tells me this is going to be quite epic .

This post has been edited by Illydoor: Apr 6 2009, 11:15 AM

[Colonel Mustard]

Damn, the one thing you forget!

Thanks for commenting Illydoor. As for tying in with the main plot, well it does in a fair few ways. And there's a cool battle too. Yay!

[Colonel Mustard]

And the next part. Even if I say so myself, it's damn good.

Part 27-Blood and ice

The army marched for a week. Normally Alicarius could have made the journey over a few days, but they had to stick to the longer route on the roads and moving large numbers of people quickly was never going to be easy.

He had chosen their battleground, making it clear to the Nord army that they intended to challenge them. It was a a hill, a few miles south of Bruma and on a hill leading down to a valley, forcing the army of Nord warriors to fight uphill, and on a snow covered, icy slope to boot.

Alicarius had already sent a detachment of foresters, led by Karros, around the wooded edges of the valley to halt any flanking forces, and should the opportunity arise, to do a little flanking themselves.

The army had to wait only two days for the Nord force, responding to the threat after celebrating their annexation of Bruma, made it's way towards them. Alicarius had had the men stay in positions through the entire time they were there, ready to get to position quickly should the Nord army arrive.

There were one hell of a lot of them, Alicarius considered as he saw the thousand strong host of Jsashe, Prophetess of Lorkhan. He could see the woman at the forefront of the army with the aid of his helmet's lenses. She stood on a bone white chariot, drawn by a pair of ice white horses. A shock of graying red hair flowed down her back, and Alicarius could see the enchantments glittering on her spear even from his position on the other side of the valley.

So this was the witch that was causing Cyroddil so much trouble, Alicarius thought. He could take her.

He stepped forwards from the assembled ranks of Chorrol's army, and turned to face them.

“Men!” he called. “Today is history. Today is the day that we, but three hundred men, stand against a horde intent on the destruction of our land. They wish to enslave our wives and our children, to squash the world under their heel and rule it. And I say that they shall not! Some of you may think that by being here, by fighting under the banner of Chorrol, you are betraying you home nation. I tell you now, that you are not. It does not matter whether you are man, mer, orc or beast man. You are soldiers, and all soldiers are one people, no matter who they fight for and where they come from. We are the men of Chorrol, and we will be victorious!”

He raised his halberd in the air, inciting a roar from Chorrol's lines.

“All I ask of you is that you hold the line,” Alicarius said. Whatever happens, we will hold the line. We have with us weapons of unparalleled power, and with them, we will hold the line. With them, we will have victory. With them, we will show all potential tyrants and oppressors that we will not stand idle while they live. The Empire will rise again, and it will bring with it an age of peace and prosperity. We are needed here today to bring this age with us. Now, FIRE!”

He dropped to the ground as the soldiers behind him raised their weapons.

They were, to but simply, muskets, but designed from the top down, as opposed to the bottom up. The projectile, a bullet shaped lump of solid lead, was loaded into a simple chamber within the gun. Instead of gunpowder, pulling the trigger sparked a localised blast of channelled magical fire within the chamber, stopping the fatal misfires that plagued the gunpowder models and sending the bullet on its way far faster. And as there was no shell being ejected, the chance of a misfire was drastically reduced. With training, a soldier could fire off two bullets within five seconds of eachother.

A wall of white hot lead flew over Alicairus, smashing into the Nord lines, and even, Alicarius noted with some satisfaction, damaging Jsashe's chariot. She hadn't finished her speech, and though some unwritten law of warfare dictated that both leaders had to, Alicarius hadn't become a captain of the Grey Knights by playing fair-after all, daemons never did.

Dozens of men fell, screaming as the bullets pulped their innards and sprayed gouts of blood into the air. Jsashe, most likely protected by magical shields, scrambled to her feet and began to yell furious orders to her captains. Within moments, the Nords began to charge.

Another volley blasted from the Imperial lines, then another, more and more men falling, but the Nords kept advancing. It was their infamous battle rage, one that had turned the tide of battle in their favour many, many times. His initial plan of breaking the Nord army through using the muskets had failed. But like any genius, Alicarius had a plan b.

He grabbed something from his belt, a long, thin tube, and pulled the string at the end free. The fire spell contained within blasted itself free in a phosphorous white glare, rising like a second sun.

That was Karros' signal.

As one, soldiers wearing lightly armoured leather suits, coated in greenery, rose from the bushes and let forth a volley of fire from their own muskets. But behind them, a massive trebuchet was pulled up, it's premade parts slotting together perfectly. Within a moment, it was primed to fire.

It did so, sending a massive payload of kegs, each filled with explosive chemicals, into the Nords. The blast was powerful enough to completely immolate anything at its centre, sending body parts and screaming, burning men flying for more than a hundred metres in any direction.

Another booming volley was fired from the Imperial lines as the trebuchet was primed to fire again, and Alicarius gave his orders.

“SHIELD WALL! NOW!”

The men did so, Alicarius getting his own one, a massive thing easily two metres in diameter, up and locking it next the man next to him. He raised his halberd over the top as the other men beside him drew their swords. The rank behind them raised their own muskets up bayonets fixed, forming an impenetrable wall of steel.

The Nord forces reached the bottom of the valley, the frontrunners lucky enough to still be alive already beginning to scramble up the hill on the Imperial side.

“WEDGE, ADVANCE!” Alicarius roared.

With him at it's head, the shield was began to advance, the edges tailing to form the brutally effective wedge shape. It advanced slowly, down the hill, building up a rumbling momentum as it reached the Nord lines.

It went through them like Alicarius's halberd would go through butter. Every soldier fought with mechanical precision, perfectly drilled in a tactic that rarely failed. If one of the Chorrol soldiers was killed, his comrade would abandon his musket, take his own sword and shield and plug the gap. Meanwhile, the trebuchet sent load after load of explosives into the Nord ranks, the explosions causing more damage.

Already, the Skryim army was beginning to break, men running in fear rather than face the relentless advance of the wedge. The few desertions soon turned into a full blown retreat, men running to the top of the hill, but staying there.

It wasn't a retreat, Alicarius realised with shock. It was a withdrawl. But why? What could they possibly gain by falling back, except for the high ground. And charging a wedge was suicide.

A chant came up from the Nord lines, men roaring the same word over and over.

“Grund! Grund! Grund! Grund!”

And from the centre of the Nord lines, a massive humanoid shape rose up, released from chains that jangled against its monstrous from, one that dwarfed even the largest trees around them. An arm coated in massive muscles held a club that was simply a tree trunk that been ripped from the ground and stripped of it's branches. With a shock, Alicarius realised what Grund was.

A giant.