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 One: Heritage

I walked blissfully down the streets of the Imperial City. At least so it appeared; in my mind I pondered what would happen if the rumors were true and Emperor Kristopher Traven, the descendent of an Arch Mage hunted the non-believers down and prosecuted them.

I walked out of the gates as night began to fall. My heavy armor made loud noises as I walked, but my concern was minimal. An arrow swooshed right past me. With haste, I tore my sword out of the scabbard and gripped my shield. "Show yourself, Thug," I cried out. Rage dripped in my voice.

Out of the darkness appeared a Dremora archer who hissed, "Courtesy of Lord Dagon." Another arrow launched, but this one into my shield. With a burst of bravery and the sense that the Nine were with me, I charged at him.

My blade was in his chest and he fell to his knees. The Dremora barely managed to whisper, "The anguish...I…will endure...will be beyond...imagination." Then the life left his body. Perceptively, I noticed in his knapsack he had a note. It was finely written in Daedric.

"Kynmarcher Syrtin,

Kill Sir Kalian Broodikus. If he succeeds in his goal, then the Shades of Oblivion will not succeed in breaking the seal. His ancestor was one of the best swordsman to walk Tamriel and definitely one of the most powerful mortal mages to ever live. If he inherits any of the Knight's arcane or physical ability, then we'll need all the luck on Nirn to stand a chance.

Sincerely,

Valkynaz Proditor."

I wondered who they spoke of. And Broodikus? My name is Sir Kalian Vyran. My ancestor? I came from a family of mages. To say the least, my life just got a whole lot more interesting.

When I finally opened my eyes after resting, an argonian held a short sword to my throat. "Awaken," he hissed. "We have heard of your journey, Sir Kalian Broodikus. We fought with and against your ancestor, Zalphon Broodikus. You won't stop the Crisis alone, we are here to help as we did centuries ago."

"What?" I asked as he pulled the sword back. "Who is Zalphon Broodikus? Why does everyone keep calling me Broodikus? And why is my 'ancestor' so special? The Vyran family members are mages."

"So many questions, so few time," the Argonian sighed. "Let us explain. I am Quick-Strike, this is J'skooma. Zalphon was a knight long ago who helped stop the Oblivion Crisis. After he purchased an amulet from a mysterious wizard, well he changed."

"It fed on his desire to protect, and gave him strength, clarity of mind, agility, and everything else he'd need. It also gave him a desire to conquer Mathoc with an army of undead after he became a lich," he continued. "We killed him and weren't heard from again, now to you. We were there when you were born, your mother had just died and we had to get you to safety. The Vyrans would take care of you, and they did just that."

"Why me?" I asked. "Why am I so special?"

"The Prophecy that was written about your ancestor came true," J'skooma said. "Then so did the one about cheese." The khajiit laughed, the others just stared at him.

"As my companion said," Quick-Strike grumbled. "You are in the prophecy, Kalian. We have read many prophecies, and they all come true."

"Joy," I growled.

"Two old beast-people were to help me? I wondered how much skooma they had done," I thought...

We walked for hours. Our feet ached, fatigue filled our muscles, until we saw it. A giant, red, ovular portal surrounded by black stone. The guards didn't see us, so we were able to eavesdrop. There were two Dremora, one at each side of the gate. In front of them was a mad Dremora, I'm guessing a commanding officer. "Valkynaz Proditor had me skinned for Syrtin's failure. To say the very least, it was extremely agonizing. If you see Kalian, kill him," the commanding officer barked. "We can't allow them to interfere with Zalphon's plan."

They nodded and drew their long swords. The commander entered the portal and Quick-Strike whispered, "J'skooma, will you do the honors."

The Khajiit said, "Cheese will, but I hate cheese so I'll steal the job from cheese. Ha ha, cheese is a loser." Then he muttered something and a bolt of white-hot flame emitted from his finger-tips into one of the guards, after a bolt of electricity jumped to the other.

I asked, "How did you do that?"

"Anu created us with a higher destiny than just death. J'skooma is well over one-thousand years old and has been tutored by the forgotten god, Xarxes himself and has read Oghma Infinium several times. I am five centuries old and was trained by the Dark Brotherhood long ago, I was also trained by the High Clerics of Boethia and Mephala," Quick-Strike explained. "We are not mere mortals. Our fates were written in the stars when we were born."

With a nod, I jogged over to the Gateway. I looked back and thought, "If I don't come back, I've had a good life." Then I walked in.

When I entered the portal, I was on top of a mountain. The mountain was gray and the plants were dead. Undead and Daedra walked past one another blissfully, as if they were allies. The only living plants were Nightshade, Harrada, and Bloodgrass. All the others were dead and wilting. "Zalphon and I have unfinished business," the Argonian stated as he ran down the mountain. Behind him followed J'skooma.

As I walked, I felt a sense of despair. The skeletons and the zombies caused me no harm, but held their weapons drawn. The Daedra scowled. What was this place? Death filled it. Then I walked up to a bridge made out of obsidian and asked, "May I pass?" to the Dremora-Guard.

"You can't pass, Dunmer," The Dremora snarled. "Not unless Zalphon wills it so." Instantly, the Dremora fell to the ground screaming in anguish. I passed and looked up at the sky. The ever-lasting, sickly-gray sky hung over us, giving a sense of dread. When I brought my head down, I saw it. A colossal, ebony keep loomed at us.

The two guards barked, "The Dark Lord says only his chosen may enter."

"I'm his descendent," I responded. Suddenly they kneeled and begged forgiveness. I told them that none was needed as I entered the Ebony Keep.

"Welcome," a raspy voice whispered. "Your friends destroyed the Obsidian Tower, but the Ebony Keep is stronger. Also, welcome to The Shadow of Life, Oblivion. My guards will kill you on sight, know that now. If you do survive my finest which is comprised of only Valkynaz, then I'll be truly impressed."

I whispered in response, "I'll kill you, whoever you are."

"I am Zalphon, better known as the Knight and your ancestor," he politely replied. "This is just the beginning. The Nine and the Daedric Princes will bow before me. I have already killed Peryite for his ignorance and stolen his power."

"I'll never let you control the Nine. I'll die before they bow to a lich," I screamed back.

"My lich-body is gone; I have all the benefits, but none of the ill-effects. I'm ageless, can control undead with mere thoughts, and am reborn at my phylactery should I die," he cackled. "I advise that when you do meet me that you're ready to die and be reborn as one of my soldiers."

"We shall see," I thought. "We shall see..."

[Zalphon]

Chapter Two: Journey

I awoke from dead-sleep. Was it all a dream? I must've passed out and Quick-Strike carried me here. It was so vivid and real. Quick-Strike was asleep next to me in a bed and to the left of me was J'skooma. My legs stood up and I walked outside and sat. We were in a tavern of some sort. Out the window it was almost pitch-black.

I walked out of the room and saw the innkeeper talking to two Dremora. "Yes, they're asleep now," the Innkeeper said. "Wait until they leave and my master, Lord Varen will send two of my fellow cultists to assist."

The larger and more muscular Dremora grunted, "You better not fail us, Hannibal."

"I am a Shade of Oblivion, failure is not an option," the pale, imperial replied.

"We shall see, if you do fail then it'll be your head on the plate of Valkynaz Proditor," the shorter one hissed. "If everything goes as planned, your cult will finally break the seal."

I rushed back to my room and donned my armor as fast as I could. I ripped out my from the sheathe. "Is that so, Dremora?" I called out. "Obviously you didn't expect me to arrive now did you?"

Quick-Strike and J'skooma soon came. They were awake by my shout I guess. The two Dremora rushed up the stairs. My blade lunged at the smaller one's chest and it missed. "The seal must be broken," the taller one screamed. His mighty great sword was slashed at me, bisecting the smaller Dremora, while fortunately missing me.

With almost divine strength, I beheaded the tall Dremora. It flew cleanly and the innkeeper hissed, "This isn't over." With a quick-spell the innkeeper was surrounded in black flame and disappeared.

"I see why this is called the Inn of Ill Omen," Quick-Strike sarcastically remarked.

The Khajiit lifted the Daedric corpse and banished it. "We can't let them succeed in breaking the seal," I explained. "If we do, then all is lost. I have a feeling whatever Daedric prince is behind this will destroy Tamriel."

"Over my dead body," the Khajiit howled. "Then again, I have thought it'd be more fun on the other side where all the dead rocks and plants are."

"Why did I strike it so powerfully?" I questioned.

"Your very blood is divine," the Argonian stated. "Your ancestor was one of the best mortal swordsmen to ever live and his skill with magic surpassed even Divayth Fyr's. Anu created your ancestor, J'skooma, and me with a greater purpose."

"But why did the gods choose me?"

"That is something only Anu knows."

"Who is Anu?"

"You'll learn," Quick-Strike nodded. "One day... One day... That day is not today, for we have more important things than this..."

"Yes, Quick-Strike," I politely replied. I had to stop this from happening. If I didn't then well, Tamriel would fall to the Daedric Prince that is doing this...

When we left after morning came, we left with haste. The sun was at its highest point when we saw a traveler on the ground. Quick-Strike warned cryptically, "You should be careful." However, I had sworn an oath when I became a knight to protect the weak.

When I got over, the traveler begged, "Please, don't kill me. You can have all of my septims, just don't hurt me." Her voice was soft and scared.

"Miss, I have no desire to cause you harm," I replied as I gave her my hand. She gripped it and lifted herself up. The young Breton girl wore a black skirt and a matching black blouse. Her eyes were sky-blue and her skin was very light.

"I-I-I am a necromancer," she whimpered. "Please, don't kill me." I had never seen Quick-Strike move as fast as he did. The Argonian darted over to her and lifted the Breton off the ground by the throat.

"Prepare to die, Necromancer," He scowled.

"Release her," I commanded.

With a sigh, he did. "She deserves to die," he hissed. "She dominates those who can't defend themselves."

I glared at him and asked the girl, "What is your name?"

"Evangeline M--Mortalitis," she stuttered. "Master-Argonian, I am a very weak necromancer. My mentor was a lich named Z-Zalphon. He left me though, due to something involving the Daedra."

"Zalphon?" Quick-Strike gasped. "Zalphon Broodikus?"

"Y-Yes," Evangeline managed to say. "He taught me how to perform some basic spells, such as summoning skeletons and lesser zombies and bonewalkers. Zalphon also gave me this book; he said he wouldn't need it anymore."

The Breton pulled out a black-leather bound book which on the cover had the words "Nex Somes," written on it in blood.

"The Spellbook of Zalphon," I gasped. "The spells in there must be powerful enough to turn armies of well-trained soldiers into skeletal warriors."

"I haven't been able to read any yet," she gulped. "They're extremely complex."

J'skooma growled, "Bad magic is bad magic. J'skooma no like this book."

Quick-Strike threatened, "I guess you're with us now, Evangeline. If you harm a hair on Kalian or J'skooma's heads, I'll break every bone in your body and force-feed you your liver."

The Necromancer nodded and we began walking once again.


For several hours we walked, then a knight in steel-armor walked past us. High in the ebon-sky was the silvery moon and the hundreds of stars. He accidentally bumped me. "Excuse me," he said sadly. "I wasn't paying attention."

"Stop at once," Evangeline commanded. "Vampire, remove your helm." The nervous knight removed his steel helmet to reveal long, black hair over his snow-white skin. He had a full face that was thinner than most with crimson eyes.

"Madam," he asked. "Are you going to harm me? I am merely a traveling Knight of the Nine."

"Liar," Quick-Strike scowled. "They don't allow the living dead in their ranks and they were disbanded in the two-hundred thirty-second year of the fourth era.”

"Well, I was four-hundred and seventy-three years ago. My name is Adam Draconis, I am a vampire yes, but I hate it so dearly," he replied. "Long ago, I had a wife, two wonderful children, a family. Now I am a wretched night-walker."

"A Knight of the Nine?" I asked. "They're an ancient order of knights who I studied as a boy, can I please learn from you?"

"If you prove the goodness in your heart," Adam nodded. "The Knights taught me many spells in restoration and many spells in all the schools and how to fight."

"Quick-Strike," I said aside to him. "We could use an additional hand. He seems benevolent enough."

"I won't kill you, Vampire," Quick-Strike hissed. "But you must be willing to take a solemn oath."

"Yes, of course," Adam smiled. "I would be honored, Argonian."

"Quick-Strike," he scowled. "I am the Grandmaster Quick-Strike of--"

"The Nine's Shadows. Is it really you? I would be honored," the Imperial Vampire kneeled. "Sir, if I may be of any assistance, do let me know."

"Swear to me, that you'll never harm a hair on my J'skooma or Kalian's heads and you may travel with us," Quick-Strike demanded.

The Vampire swore the Oath. "Milord, the sun is beginning to rise, may we reach shelter in a nearby cave?"

"N--" Quick-Strike tried to say.

"Yes," I interrupted as I began to walk towards a nearby cave. I was growing to be quite the leader. I had an Argonian Assassin, a Khajiiti Mage, a Breton Necromancer, and now an Imperial-Vampire Knight in my service. Now the real question was, would my companion be enough to stop the Crisis? I wasn’t quite sure, but I removed my armor and sat against the wall.

When I awoke, I heard Adam and Evangeline arguing. "You're a bloody vampire, and you claim to serve the Nine? Arkay, the God of Life and Death is one of the Nine," she hissed. "Listen, Vampire, I will decapitate you if you hurt that Dunmer. I...well...it's unimportant."

"You have feelings for Kalian?" He asked. "I respect the man for his wisdom and lack of prejudice. Evangeline, he won't want you, he's too restless."

I decided to continue eavesdropping. Evangeline rebutted, "Yes, but he's so sweet, I'm sure I can tame his wild heart."

"Unlikely," he shook his head. "He doesn't have any feelings for you, he doesn't even trust you. You are a necromancer, nor do I blame him."

The Breton ran off, I heard her sobs. Then I got up and donned my armor. It was dusk. "Adam," I called. "What was that about?"

"Sir, she insulted me for being a vampire and then threatened my life. She also claims to have feelings for you, don't trust the kwama-scum," he explained. "I don't due to her choice of study."

"Kalian," Quick-Strike stated. "He's right."

"I know," I sighed. "She's a necromancer, but I feel some good in her heart."

The Argonian lifted his palm to his face and dragged it down. "I'll be watching," he growled as he sprinted into the shadows. J'skooma was nowhere to be found either. They were my followers, yet I had a feeling by the end of my journey Evangeline or Adam would be dead, due to the other.

The stars were high in the sky. They were shining, silver lights in the middle of the black sky. Adam said to me as we walked, "I have a secret I am obligated to tell you."

"What is it?" I asked. "You're a Knight of the Nine, you are a divine guardian."

As we walked, our armor clanked. The dirt road was dark in the night and we could hear a wolf howl. "I did a horrible act, long ago," he barely managed to say. "I did something you'll hate me for."

"I doubt that's possible, Sir-Knight."

His voice was a shameful tone as his head hung low. "I followed a man named, ‘Zalphon’ when he slew the Knights of the Nine. He spoke of a 'purification' of the Knights of the Nine. He told me they were corrupted and we were the only ones who weren't."

"What?" I shouted. "You're the reason the Knights of the Nine are a forgotten Order?"

"Yes," he said glumly. "After we finished the 'purification' he tried to kill me with a spell, however somehow I survived. I think the Nine were watching over me as he cast a spell that engulfed my body in a shadowy maw."

"When I awoke," he continued. "I was a vampire. The one who turned me was an ancient wizard. He left shortly after. I have fed for over four-hundred and fifty years on the blood of marauders and bandits. I do not like my mortal form, but it has granted me the ability to atone for much longer."

Quick-Strike appeared out of the shadows and held the vampire above ground by the throat. His scaly fingers wrapped tightly around Adam's throat. "You killed the Knights of the Nine," he scowled. "You betrayed them. Sir Vladimir, Sir Kristopher, Lady Sylvar, Sir Krall, Sir Bearspirit are all dead because of you. You killed all the knights, except one."

"There aren't any Knight of the Nine," Adam barked. "I watched Zalphon kill them."

"The most powerful Knight of the Nine isn't dead," he said as he pointed at me. "You must teach him the 'Old Code' and the 'Old Religion'. Believe it or not, Kalian, the Nine are a dead religion. Ever noticed how the Temple of the One is devoted to the Pantheon of the Daedra, and each city has a temple dedicated to a specific one."

"Quick-Strike, you do kno--," he managed to say.

"Yes, he will take the trials," Quick-Strike replied. "When he succeeds, he will find ‘The Knight’s’ ancient artifacts and use them to kill Zalphon. He is 'The Knight', but he must be slain..."

"I am ready," I stated. "I will destroy him to save Nirn..."

[Zalphon]

Chapter Three: The Old Religion

We rested in a nearby mine. It was abandoned, most likely due to the depletion of gold ore. When I awoke, Adam stood over me with his blade drawn. "Is it time?" I barely managed to grumble. "I'm famished."

"Yes, why yes it is," he hissed. "Zalphon grows more powerful with each passing day. The Old Code will begin now, Child of the Old Religion."

I nodded and donned my armor. It was slow, but I was tired. "What now?" I questioned. "Do we spar?"

"Indeed." Instantly, the vampire turned into a blur. The next second I was disarmed, after that I was on the ground with his blade pointed at my throat. His speed and strength wasn't believable.

"How?" I asked. "How did you do that?"

"I am a Knight of the Nine. My power is vast, but it is granted by my patrons. If I were to betray them, then I would still be physically powerful, but my spells that I rely on wouldn't be able to be cast," he explained. "Long after the Champion was felled, Talos took a mortal form of 'Wulf' and taught us how to channel divinity and how to make our prayers be able to heal and even burn our foes in holy flame."

"Wulf? The Nerevarine met that man in Vvardenfell. He asked him to carry a coin to Red Mountain," I smiled. "Was it truly Talos?"

"I know it was," he smiled. "I can tell you that, because he radiated with power. As if he was a wellspring of arcane power. He taught us these, so that we could survive the War of Necromancy."

"When Mannimarco assaulted the Imperial City and destroyed the Arcane University in the fourth era, three-hundred, twenty-first year?"

"He knew we would fall without his help, so he taught us what ‘the Knight’s Code’ was and is now, "The Old Code." After Zalphon burned the archives of the Knights of the Nine, we lost all reference to it," Adam explained. "I am the last man who remembers that far back. Our spells are battle-prayers to the Nine."

"Interesting," I nodded. "When do we begin our training and not the history lesson?"

"When you learn," he scowled. "That you must remember history or you'll be damned to repeat it..."

For weeks we studied in the caverns about the Nine. Evangeline enjoyed the time to read her Spellbook, while Quick-Strike kept a close watch. J'skooma had many conversations with the rocks about whether rat-milk cheese or Minotaur steak tasted worse.

Adam questioned, "Who is the Aedric God of Air?"

"Kynareth," I responded. "Her domain is also over the natural woodlands as well."

"What is Stendarr's domain?" He barked.

"Mercy is his sphere, although he is also very just."

"It is time," the Vampire commanded. "Draw your blade and prepare for the first challenge."

"Yes, what must I do?"

The Ancient Knight said prayers and a burst of light filled the mine. The next second, I was unconscious. After I awoke, I was in a strange place which was a castle. Standing in front of me was Adam who smiled, "These are the Holy Grounds. Every Knight must pass the tests of the clerics and finally kill the Daedroth that hides in the shadows."

"What?" I asked. "What kind of tests?"

"The Cleric of Talos is fond of riddles, as is the Cleric of Mara. The Cleric of Stendarr tests how pure your heart is, while the Cleric of Kynareth challenges how blissful with the woodlands you are," Adam explained. "Once the nine tests are passed, the daedra is dead, and you vanquish the Guardian of the Portal, you may leave."

The stone walls of the throne room were eerily cold. On the ground I saw blood and in the corner, I spotted a man in ebony armor with a sword through his heart. Well, through his skeletal ribs. "The price of failure is death," the Vampiric Knight warned. "Fail any test and your life is forfeit. Just as Squire Vladimir’s was." The Imperial pointed to the man I just looked at.

I was about to say something, but then he disappeared. I traveled up the cold, gray stairs and saw one of the clerics in the hallway. She smiled and wore gleaming, steel armor. "I am the Cleric of Dibella." Her beautiful body matched her words; her long, scarlet hair was like woven fire.

"What is your test, oh great Cleric of Dibella?" I asked politely. "I am a humble Squire of the Nine."

The Cleric gently kissed my lips, "You already passed, handsome. Dibella watch over you, oh wait, she already has." That was the first test? The test was to be beautiful enough for the Cleric of Dibella? A little shallow of a god, but I smiled and walked past. With haste, I headed up the stairs to a bedroom. There a cleric stood.

A large Imperial dressed in shining steel armor and a war hammer strapped to his back frowned. The man was elderly, his hair was graying and his goatee was similar. "I am the Cleric of Stendarr; have you come to challenge me?"

"To take the tests of the Nine, Reverent Cleric," I responded. "I am a Squire of the Nine and must pass these tests to further my training."

"Indeed."

A small Bosmer girl jumped out and stabbed at me. She barely managed to scratch my armor. I shoved the little girl. The Bosmer whimpered as a blood came from her forehead. "Y-Y-You hurt me," she cried.

I felt horrible, like the scum of Nirn. With a tear, I cast a restoration spell and she smiled. "Th-thank you," she said right before she turned to nothingness.

"You have passed, Squire. There is an ancient spell, where you channel holy energy to your hands to heal yourself or others," the Cleric explained. "Only Knights of the Nine can use this spell, it is called 'Lay on Hands'." He showed me the proper prayers to do it.

"Stendarr watch over you," he said as I left.

With a nod, I left and traveled down the stairs. I walked into the kitchen to find, yet another Cleric. The Cleric wore no armor, but instead wore a simple, black dress. Her pale skin and blue eyes made me think she was a Breton. "I am the Cleric of Mara, Consort of Akatosh, are you here for the tests?"

"Indeed, oh powerful cleric," I responded.

Walking in was a crying Imperial maiden. She looked to be in her young adult years. "Samuel, he's dead," she sobbed. "My wonderful husband is gone, out of existence, dead."

I hugged the woman and whispered, "He's in a better place; he'd want you to be happy."

She kissed me and responded, "Thank you." Then she mysteriously disappeared.

"You passed," The Cleric curtsied. "Mara watches over you." With a smile, I had passed the tests of three of the Nine Divines. After I completed this, I had a feeling Adam would be rather...impressed...


As I reached the dungeon, I found Cleric of Arkay. He was a middle-aged man in ebony plate-mail. His gray hair was cut well and his nature was obviously Nord by his size. "Come to take the test of Arkay?" he asked.

"Indeed, Great Cleric of Arkay," I responded.

Instantly a guillotine appeared and the cleric instructed me, "Put your head in the hole."

I asked, “Are you mad?”

He ordered, “Do it.”
It stopped right above my neck; I could feel the blade touch the hairs on my neck.

"You passed, Arkay watch over you," the middle-aged Nord stated with a wise grin.

With a nod, I left and went deeper in. This time it was to the Wine Cellar. The Cleric of Zenithar, a young, seductive Bosmer clothed in a white dress smiled. "Have you come to pass the test of Zenithar?"

"Indeed, Cleric."

An illusion of a peasant and a merchant appeared. The peasant was trying to sell his crops, the merchant wanted to buy them all for a tenth of their worth. "Sir, wouldn't it be wiser to just give him the money he asks, for then he'll know you're not a liar, nor a cheat," I mentioned.

The Merchant nodded and handed over a large bag of gold. They both disappeared. "Zenithar watch over you."

With ease, I traveled towards the Lord's Quarters. There sat Akatosh's cleric. The elderly cleric sat in shining, golden scale mail. "I am the Cleric of Akatosh, is it time for your trials?"

"Indeed, Cleric."

A fountain appeared in front of me. "Drink from the fountain for eternal youth," the Cleric said. "Eternal youth or eventual death, the choice is yours." I shook my head and it dissapeared.

"Akatosh watch over you," he said as I walked out.

I was now in the Courtyard and it was no average courtyard. It went for acres upon acres. Then out came a Cleric of Kynareth. A smiling Bosmer dressed in a fur skirt and fur brassiere. "The test of Kynareth is to prove you're one with nature," she giggled. "Teach this young wolf to not kill you on sight, and you'll have succeeded."

Out came a pup that charged at me. Then we met eyes and I whispered a spell. It came over and licked my face. "Kynareth watch over you. The last challenges are Julianos and Talos, the hardest."

I nodded and headed into the Throne Room. There sat Talos' Cleric and standing beside him in an advisory fashion was the Julianos' Cleric. "The Test of Wisdom is simple," the elderly Altmer grumbled. "What does the wise man know that the smart man does not?"

"That a good heart will always bring you out on top," I responded.

"Julianos watch over you, Soon-To-Be Knight," he bowed.

The Cleric of Talos wasn't a cleric, but Talos Stormcrown himself. "I have watched over you since you were born, Kalian," Talos explained. "My challenge is to swear an oath of loyalty."

"To who?" I asked.

"To Tamriel," he commanded.

Obediently, I swore the oath and headed for the door. There stood a High Priest of Mehrunes Dagon. His skin was fiery red, just like his god's. "Prepare to die," he screamed as he charged.

I swung at him as he charged, but with his wrist-dagger he parried. The frenzied blows were hard to block, because of his amazing strength. I muttered a prayer and with divine accuracy, I slid the blade between his ribs. He looked at me and fell to his knees, “D-death at last.”

I pulled open the gargantuan double-doors and there stood a bright-blue gateway. I walked in and a flash of light blinded me. Adam smiled when he saw me. "Congratulations, you've learned the first step of the Old Code. You're officially a Knight of the Nine,” Adam explained. “However, you now must succeed in earning the favor of Magnus and Syrabane, you must read the Oghma Infinium, and unite the Daedric Princes against Mehrunes Dagon and his new Master.”

“He has become a dictator to them and they'll gladly send soldiers to serve a champion," Quick-Strike explained. "Magnus is the God of Sorcery; Syrabane is the God of Warlocks. The Oghma Infinium was written by Haermaeus Mora after he got the knowledge from Xarxes. To gain Magnus' and Syrabane's favor, you must allow your very blood to be mixed with the very essence of magicka."

"The Oghma Infinium can be attained by earning the favor of Haermaeus Mora. After you have the favor of the fifteen Daedric princes, you must march across Tamriel with your army of the Daedra and followers of the Nine," he continued. "For the first time in history, the Aedra and the Daedra must work together for a common purpose. I most likely will die, Kalian. When I do, remember to make sure my death isn't in vain."

"Yes Quick-Strike," I barked. "I shall defend Tamriel from an empowered Daedric prince and a lich that has attained god-hood. To say the least, we will have tales about us for the rest of time."

The quest I was set upon completing would shape the history of Tamriel, for better or for worse. Zalphon or I would die, and Dagon or I would fall. The Nine were protecting me; soon the Daedra would be too.

"Adam?" I asked. "Is this the Old Code, to be a champion of the Aedra and the Daedra?"

"The Old Code is to be just and righteous prophecy foretold a hero would arise and unite the Aedra and Daedra against a common foe," the Vampire saluted. "I'll be glad to serve under the Champion of Nirn."

The Champion of Nirn, was that what I was? I was defending Nirn from 'My Ancestor' and an Empowered Daedric Prince; perhaps I did earn this title. Nonetheless, I had to rest and then I had work to do.

When I awoke, Evangeline stood over me. "Sir," she said. "Are you positive we should go through with this 'quest'?"

The torch had burned out and the scared Breton had a small, light spell active. "I-I'm so scared," she stuttered. "I'm young, I don't want to die." I got up and hugged her tightly.

"It'll be all right, Evangeline," I whispered in her ear. "I promise I'll take care of you and the others." With a smile, she wiped the tears from her face and kissed my cheek. The Breton walked out and on the way out, cast a spell to light the torch.

What was I going to do? My followers were scared, even I was. However, I could not show my fear, a leader who shows fear will lose respect and they'll lose faith. I put my eyes in my hands and whispered, "Mother, wherever you are, I hope I'm making you proud." A burning, hot tear fell from my eye to the palm of my hand. I wiped the tears away and got in my armor.

"Let's go," I shouted. It echoed throughout the Caverns. Adam and Quick-Strike were soon behind me; following them were Evangeline and J'skooma. I could sense her fear, the demoralizing truth was that I had it, too.

I pushed open the wooden door and the moon was high in the sky. "How long have we been here?" I asked.

"You were unconscious for two weeks," Quick-Strike explained. "Worry not, we're ready to leave." Adam nodded and we walked out. As I exited, an arrow swished past me.

"Kill him, it is the will of the master," a voice in the darkness screamed. "You'll die, you nix-ho---." Something interrupted it. I turned around and Quick-Strike wasn't by me. A few more screams were heard, and then they all stopped.

"One of them carried this note," the Argonian said as he handed me the note.

"The Master has told me that the One of the Prophecy is in Charcoal Cave. Do not rush in, wait in the darkness for him to come out. When he has exited, kill him and the companions with him.

~Valkynaz Proditor"

"Proditor," I hissed. "He seems to be high in their military, we need to eliminate him. This is the second time he has sent assassins after me."

"Indeed," Quick-Strike agreed. "It would do serious harm to Mehrunes Dagon and his 'Master' if we kill Proditor. By kill him, I mean also destroy his spirit."

"Like the Champion did, long ago?" Adam asked.

"You can't kill a Daedroth's spirit, I mean that in the singular term of Daedra, not the species," Evangeline growled. "It's not possible."

"Wrong," I corrected. "Pelinial Whitestrake nearly did it, the Champion completed what Whitestrake failed to do in the White-Gold Tower. I will destroy Valkynaz Proditor, but first I must perform the pilgrimages to the Daedra, read the Oghma Infinium, and gain the favor of Syrabane and Magnus."

"J'skooma thinks you should do less talking and more walking," the Khajiit blurted out. "But then, what does J'skooma know? Listen to the cheese." The furry mage pulled out air from his bag and pointed to his empty palm.

With a sigh, I began to march towards the Imperial City to purchase a map of the Shrines of the Daedra in Cyrodiil.

[Zalphon]

Chapter Four: The Daedric Pilgrimage

The sun was beginning to rise as we reached the doors of the Imperial City. The guards wore ebony armor with closed helms and held ebony long swords. "Halt," the one on the right said. "You're to be searched for contraband, such as Skooma or Moonsugar."

They scanned through our bags and found nothing and then they allowed us to pass. The Vampire hastily made a retreat to the sewers and shouted, "After dusk, I'll meet you at this gate."

I just nodded and continued walking towards the Explorers' Guild. They were renowned for going where no one had gone before and collecting artifacts. Surely they had a map at their guild-hall here. No one is quite certain where the real headquarters is.

In the Elven Plaza, I found it. A large guild-hall with banners on each side of the door with a map and a quill crossed perpendicular and a sword beneath parallel to the bottom of the map. I walked inside and there were a wide variety of people in here. Men and women dressed in fine clothing or expensive armors, mostly ebony, glass, or Daedric.

The guild-hall was standard architecture used in the Cyrodiil Guild-Halls over five-hundred years ago. However, stone-work was well-done and the book-cases were lined with books that were centuries old. The Saryoni Sermons, the 2920 Series, the Poison Song series, the thirty-six lessons of Vivec, Vampires of Vvardenfell. To say the least, I was impressed. Saryoni Sermons and the Thirty-Six Lessons of Vivec were thought to be destroyed when Red Mountain erupted.

A lich stood by me and bowed. "Victor Mystblood, welcome to the Explorers' Guild. Are you here to join or for a map?" he asked.

"I would like to talk to the local head of the guild, please."

Down the intricate, wooden stairs came a man in a suit of Daedric armor with a strange black sword with a purple glow to it in hand. He wore no helmet, revealing his dark-gray skin and red-Dunmeri eyes. "Hail, High Explorer of the Imperial City," Victor said loudly.

"Are you the leader?" I asked this 'High Explorer'.

"High Explorer Fathis Hlaalu," he growled. "I am the local High Explorer, so I schedule the artifact raids and guild-exploration. Members are allowed to free-lance, but they must give ten-percent of all treasure to the guild. So, what do you need?"

"A map," I calmly explained. "A map of the Daedric shrines, not the temples, but the shrines to the individual Daedric Princes’ Shrines. I need a map of the ones in Cyrodiil."

"The Shrines of the Daedra, you do know the Temple of the Daedra is in the Temple-District, correct?" he asked with acid dripping in his voice. "Or are you an N'wah raised in a pauper-house?"

"Yes, I do," I hissed. "But I want to show my reverence, by going to each one."

"One-thousand Drakes," the High Explorer barked. "No more, no less."

I pulled out my bag and handed it to him. "One-thousand drakes, now give me the map."

Fathis Hlaalu headed into a door behind the front desk which he stood at. Out he came with a rolled up scroll. "The map will show you where each of them is." I opened the map. The nearest shrine was Molag Bal's, west of the Imperial City and south of the Ruined City, that was once known as Chorrol.

"I do miss Chorrol, I stayed there for a few decades about two-hundred and forty years ago. The Second Orc wars about one-hundred and fifty years ago.” Quick-Strike stated. “Orsimer was captured and they surrendered. Warlord was executed, as well as his lieutenants. A lot of orcs died in the war, but Chorrol was one of the biggest blows they dealt. Ever since the Wars, the ruined city has been inhabited by marauders-clans, bandits, fugitives, and the survivors of the Second Orc Wars and their descendents."

"Molag Bal," she sighed in disgust. "The King of Rape as he is called created the vampires."

"I am not fond of him, myself," I grumbled. "Well, let's get some rest."

I marched towards the King and Queen Inn. The Innkeeper muttered, "Rooms are ten Septims each." The old imperial had graying hair. The tavern was sub-par at best. Evangeline put forty drakes on the counter.

He handed her four keys. She handed each of us a key and I went up to my room. For what felt like hours I laid on the bed. Soon after, Evangeline opened the door to my room. She removed her ebon robes and grinned. I returned the smile as she crawled into bed with me. "I know you've noticed how I like you," she giggled.

"I have, and do return the affection," I kissed her. I forgot my troubles for the next few hours with Evangeline...

When we awoke after our tiring ‘exercise’, I saw her smiling face. Evangeline whispered, "We need to get dressed; it's time for us to leave."

"Akatosh has a way of always getting to that time," I grumbled. She slipped on her midnight-black robes, and I donned my armor. Adam opened the door and motioned us out.

"Molag Bal's shrine is about twelve hours away on foot," he said. "We need to get moving." I nodded; my unkempt black hair fell in my eyes. Evangeline pushed it away and kissed me on the lips again; I firmly hugged her.

"A Knight of the Nine with a necromancer?" he asked. "Now I've seen it all." The Vampire stomped out of our way and we quickly made haste. Quick-Strike was nowhere to be seen, J'skooma followed us closely. The night sky was vast and beautiful, the silver moon, the shining lights called 'stars'. However, icy winds blew, during the chilly night.

After hours, the sun began to rise, but we saw the shrine and a house nearby. Molag Bal's shrine had large horns and was aged. There were cracks in the stonework, but it was still easily recognized as the King of Rape. I opened the door to the house, and it was empty. The shoddy wood-work of this hut was enough to protect Adam for the night, but not be comfortable.

The one-room hut was barren. There was a hammock, a rug, and on the rug, a bowl, a spoon, a knife, and a fork. They were all very old items. The knife had much rust, as did the spoon, but the fork was fine. Clean.

Adam growled, "I sense no harm, let us rest." For the rest of my companions, sleep came easily, even for Quick-Strike.

I fell asleep after what felt like days and my dream was of being chained to the ground in an arena. Evangeline grinned at me and took out a dagger. She kissed me and whispered in my ear, "This will only hurt for a little bit, but it'll hurt a lot."

She plunged the blade into my stomach and twisted it. I roared in anguish, and awoke screaming.

Quick-Strike sat with his legs crossed staring at me. "The Shrine of Molag Bal can inspire many things, as can each of the shrines," he explained. "Once I made a pilgrimage to Meridia, I had dreams that night of hunting the undead. I warn you, Vaermina's shrine will leave you a husk of a man if you're not ready. I went their once when I was young. I almost didn't come back from the nightmares."

"I will take the advice, is it night?" I questioned.

"Indeed, I'll wake the others up, you wait outside," Quick-Strike commanded.

Shortly after, they were outside with me. I walked towards the shrine and kneeled, "Molag Bal, King of Rape, I am Sir Kalian Broodikus, and seek to earn your favor in my quest against Mehrunes Dagon and his Master, what must I do?"

An echoing invaded my mind, "Ah, the Champion of Nirn has finally arrived. I will allow you to command one-thousand of my daedroth if you sacrifice one of your companions to Oblivion or yourself."

"I wi--" I tried to say.

"Molag Bal, you inflicted this curse upon me. I will take the place in Oblivion for the crimes I have committed," Adam growled.

He turned aside to us and said, "I have walked Nirn for years, I have been to Akavir, I have been in the depths of Red Mountain, at the top of the mountains of Skyrim, in the deserts of Elsewyr, in the Ayleid Ruins of Cyrodiil, my time has come."

Quick-Strike responded, "I was wrong about you, Adam. You aren't a vampire; you're just in the body of one. You truly are a Knight of the Nine. May Anu watch over you, wherever you travel."

"And may he watch over you," the Vampire bowed deeply. Black flames surrounded him. He was in Coldharbour now. Exactly like Nirn, except all the buildings are in ruin, the sky burns in everlasting flame, and the winds are as cold as Skyrim's mountains.

The echoing voice reappeared in my mind, "When you enter the Deadlands, there will be one-thousand daedroth waiting for you."

With a tear in my eye, I turned around. Quick-Strike pulled out the map and stated, "Let's head to Sanguine's Shrine first, and then to Clavicus Vile's."

Evangeline hugged me tightly, "I know you cared about him, a lot."

I nodded and wiped the tears off my cheeks. Adam was my friend, a dear one at that. He was one of the only people who knew the old ways. Quick-Strike and I were the only survivors of the Old Code. I began to march, knowing that his sacrifice was not in vain.


We walked slowly towards the Shrine of Sanguine. I was quiet and distant from my companions. Mundus lied on my shoulders, the fate of the gods themselves was my duty, and I had just lost my mentor. After about three-hours of travel, we saw the shrine. It showed a horned man with one foot on a skull and a tankard in one of his hands.

The cracked statue had empty wine-bottles and skeletons around it. "Oh great Sanguine, it is I, the Champion of Nirn," I called out. "We have come to seek out your assistance against Dagon and his 'Master'."

An echoing voice filled my mind, "I will send my finest cultists to your aid, if you Kalian can defeat my High Priestess in a drinking contest." Instantly materializing was a table, two tankards filled with a frothy beverage, two chairs, and in one sat a nude Imperial. Long, brown hair fell to her chest and covered it.

The Imperial snickered, "I've taken on nords who have sailed across the seas, and I’ll easily out-drink you."

I sat down and pulled up the mug. I guzzled down the beverage and slammed it on the table. Instantly it was refilled, and she did the same. For hours this went on, I think Mara was preventing me from the alcohol's worst effects, unconsciousness. Eventually the Imperial's head fell to the table.

"How, how is this possible?" the Voice roared. "Dianna can out-drink Barbas on occasion. Nonetheless, you succeeded, so my cultists will be there. My High Cleric will wield the Sanguine Rose."

"Thanks...hic," I hiccupped. "Now, can I pleash go now?" I tried to walk, but I fell and hit my head on a rock. When I awoke, Evangeline stood over me.

"We're in an abandoned home about a mile away from the Shrine of Sanguine," she explained. "The alcohol you drank would've killed any mortal with a single drop. I don't know what, but you're growing in power."

"I may be lessening my mortality, but I am still a mortal," I responded. "Sanguine proved that when I fell down in drunken stupor."

"J'skooma thinks you need rest," J'skooma purred. "Rest."

I closed my eyes and fell asleep. When I awoke I heard Quick-Strike and J'skooma talking. Evangeline slept next to me on the floor in this abandoned two-story house. The wood-work was well-done, even the floor-boards were carved. "I think he's getting further in his journey," Quick-Strike said. "However, with each passing day, I can sense more of Zalphon in him."

"J'skooma thinks that the Dark One has no grasp on Kalian," the Khajiiti Wizard responded.

"Zalphon is more powerful than either of us had ever dreamed," he riposted. "I just pray his influence isn't affecting Kalian."

"J'skooma thinks you may be right," J'skooma grumbled.

"Remember when he was born. His mother died due to Korvan's treachery. You killed the maddened Dunmer. I held the child and swore an oath to make him my ward," Quick-Strike said at barely more than a whisper. "He'll never know, at least I hope he won't. Kalian will feel as if he owes me, and that simply can't be. The Dunmer may not be my son, but as far as I am concerned he is one of my own."

"I know."

A tear burned my cheeks to know the truth about my family. My father betrayed Quick-Strike and J'skooma. And he has protected me all these years? When my older 'sister' Syra became a Telvanni and tried to kill me, she wasn't heard from again.

It was his secret, and I wasn't going to reveal my knowledge of it. My 'father' was a good man, apparently. Korvan wasn't my father; he was the one that allowed me to be born. My 'father' was Quick-Strike. I wouldn't tell him, but I'd always remember who really cared.

When we left the house, it took us about two hours to reach the Shrine of the Vain Clavicus Vile. The Shrine depicted a horn man with a cane and a dog. It was pristine, unlike the others. I kneeled, "Lord Vile, I am the Champion of Nirn and am here to earn your favor in the war against Dagon and his 'Master'"

An echoing voice intruded my skull, "The Champion of Nirn has come to stop Dagon? My reward shall be the Masque of Clavicus Vile, but you must give me your coffer."

I looked down at the steel coffer I owned, it was a small, steel chest with a lock I could never open. The Coffer was surprisingly weightless, probably an enchantment. It was Korvan's. I gently laid it on the Shrine with a tear in my eye.

"King Orgnum's Coffer, finally mine," the voice echoed. "My masque is in your bags, but I do thank you dearly for this item, the gold it will bring my followers will be put to use." Instantly the chest dissapeared and my bags got a little heavier.

I pulled a helmet out of my knapsack. It was a closed-face steel helmet. The visor looked like a face, and the helmet part of it looked like an intricately engraved helmet with horns. I put it on; it covered my skull and molded to fit me perfectly. "We must head to Meridia's Shrine," Quick-Strike stated.

Evangeline started to shake in fear, "M-M-Meridia hates necromancers, sh-she'll kill me."

I held her tightly and whispered, "She won't harm you. You're more important than some petty necromancer, Evangeline."

She nodded at me. We were about two miles away from the Shrine of Meridia and night was coming. I decided to set up camp, and the others agreed. By time we finished, ate some roasted venison I hunted, and finished talking, the moon was already high in the sky.

Evangeline and I decided to head to bed, the Argonian and the Khajiit decided to stay up. I was hastily consumed by the sleep. A few hours later, I awoke and began to eavesdrop again. "Do you remember Akavir, J'skooma?" Quick-Strike said calmly.

"J'skooma remembers the vampire snake men who almost ate Quick-Strike."

"I do miss the Nerevarine. It's a shame the Imperial Settlers were attacked by the Tscaesci."

"J'skooma thinks Nerevar was good. Nerevar saved us from Demented Imperial Legion Soldiers. He wanted to stay there for reasons J'skooma doesn't know," J'skooma remembered.

"Maybe after Zalphon is slain or redeemed we'll go back to Akavir for a few more decades," Quick-Strike explained. "I'm sure Nerevar misses us. Remember he gave us Hopesfire after we infiltrated the Tscaesci Temple. Nice blade, I when the Tscaesci were coming for his home he asked for it back. I must say, he did use those two blades with elegance."

"J'skooma thinks Kalian should come, too," J'skooma pleaded.

"Of course he can come, I'm sure Nerevar will be honored to meet the Champion of Nirn," Quick-Strike replied. "I just hope he can handle the boat-ride, you remember, it took us a few months to reach Akavir."

Quick-Strike and J'skooma knew the Nerevarine? They actually fought the Tscaesci? What wondrous lives they've lived. If I do live after Dagon and his Master are gone, I do look forward to going to Akavir. The Imperial Explorers never did return, their conversation explained a lot.

J'skooma yawned, "J'skooma thinks it's time for rest."

The Argonian agreed, "Let's get some sleep. We best not wake the others up."

Sleep quickly filled my mind as I heard their footsteps. Sweet, blissful sleep.

When we awoke, we feasted on the remnants of the venison. After an hour we arrived at the Shrine of Meridia. It depicted a woman with her hands held together. It was mossy, cracked, and showed obvious signs of aging. "Meridia, what may I do to earn your favor in the war against Dagon and his master," I questioned.

"The Champion of Nirn, you seem to misunderstand," the echoing voice invaded. "You are the Champion of Nirn and Guardian of Mundus; you have already earned my favor by pledging yourself to this quest to protect Nirn and Mundus from Dagon and Zalphon." A golden ring appeared on my finger, it also had an oval-ruby. I hastily took it off.

"Thank you, Meridia," I bowed. "I am honored that I have your favor." I began to step away, the others followed me. Suddenly Evangeline fell to the ground and couldn't stand up.

"Help me," she screamed. "Please!"

The Voice of Meridia filled our minds, "The Necromancer shall suffer for her crimes." Instantly, in rainbow flame, Evangeline was gone. I fell to my knees and threw off the Masque of Clavicus Vile.

"NO!" I screamed. Tears rolled down my cheeks, she was in the Coloured Rooms. She was...gone. Forever. J'skooma picked up the Masque and the last thing I remember is trying to run to the statue and a blunt force hitting me on my head.

When I awoke, Quick-Strike stood over me, "She's gone, Kalian. We had no choice. You were going to defile her shrine and go to the same realm of Oblivion as Evangeline."

"I'll kill you, you N'wah!" I hissed. He shook his head and sighed as I drew my sword. We were in a clearing in the woods. As I slashed at him, he dodged. I continued slashing, lunging, and chopping at him, but each time I missed.

"We had no choice," The Argonian glumly said. "I didn't want to leave her, but we needed to sacrifice her."

"Fine," I growled. "I won't forget this though."

"J'skooma thinks we should go to the Shrine of Malacath, which is nearest," the Khajiit butted in.

We started walking. I didn't speak the entire way. Finally we reached some hut a few miles out from the Shrine of Malacath. The Khajiit entered, and I followed. My feet made me walk over to the bedroll, where I laid down and was engulfed by the blankets. Sleep soon followed.

Again, I awoke and began to eavesdrop.

"Evangeline will be sorely missed," Quick-Strike grumbled. "I cared a lot about her, I liked her."

"J'skooma will miss the necromancer," the Khajiit replied.

"I wonder if we should contact the Order. Do you remember long ago, when we were recruited to the Watcher’s Council. One day, Kalian will join. In the Prophecy of the Black Dawn, it spoke of a champion to unite the Aedra and the Daedra," The Argonian reminisced. "The High Council would be very happy to finally hear from us after what happened in Thras."

"J'skooma remembers Thras, nearly died when the Sload tried to kill J'skooma for burning the Codex of Necromancy," the Khajiit chuckled. "Remember Pyandonea?"

"Yes, I remember when the Maormer let us ride the sea serpents after we stopped the traitor," Quick-Strike laughed. "I'll say that sea serpents are far more interesting than any mundane horse."

I rolled over and managed to sleep. However, I managed to think about how much they were hiding from me. Obviously a lot.

After I went to sleep that night, all I saw was Evangeline being tormented by Aurorans. They were just cackling maniacally. I tried to help her, but it was as if a spell were cast on me to keep me paralyzed. The tears rolling down her cheeks, like the Niben River.

Quick-Strike awoke me. "We must continue walking," he commanded. "It is important." Obediently, I put on my armor and we started walking towards the Shrine of Malacath. The head of the shrine was gone, so it depicted only a cracked, gray humanoid with a hammer.

I knelt, "What must I do to earn your favor, Trinimac."

"That is a name I haven't been called by in eons," the Echoing Voice laughed. "The Champion of Nirn, wow I am impressed. If you succeed in my duty, I will send one-thousand Ogrim titans to assist you in the Deadlands."

"What is the test?" I asked.

"You are a Dunmer," he growled. "Defeat my Ogrim Titan with only your hands and you shall have my favor."

A giant, green, bloated ogre-like creature came from behind the shrine. I threw down my sword and punched at it. It sent ripples through the fat of the creature and I looked up. A fist came into my face. The blinding-blow left me just that, blinded and stunned. I wildly kicked and to my surprise, hit it in the groin.

"Me kill," the Ogrim Titan roared. "Me kill pointy-ears." I jabbed at its chest. I whispered a prayer to Stendarr as I punched. When I pulled back, I saw a hole through the Ogrim's chest. It grabbed where its heart should've been and fell to its knees.

"You're the strongest Dunmer I've met since the Nerevarine," Malacath said in amazement. "The ogrim titans will be waiting."

I nodded respectfully and bowed. "The nearest shrine is about a week's travel, it's Hircine's," Quick-Strike said. J'skooma and I nodded. By time we stopped, we saw the Serpent in the sky. We stopped in a forest-clearing. My mind was soon victim to sleep. Then I awoke and heard them talking.

"J'skooma, do not worry," Quick-Strike calmed his friend down. "Kalian grows stronger with each passing day. He will need not fear Dagon by time the Trials of the Champion are complete. I can sense his power growing."

"J'skooma can hear movement," the Khajiit warned. "Be ready." I looked around and saw a Breton in torn, black robes and dirty hair.

With haste I stood up and hugged the female Breton. "Evangeline," I exclaimed with joy."

"How did you escape?" Quick-Strike inquisitively probed. "The Auroran Guardians are very powerful."

"I learned secrets of mysticism I never thought possible." she replied. "How long was I gone?"

"A few days," I answered. Tears streamed down my face. Tears of joy, she was back.

"Only a few days?" Evangeline asked. "It has been years, I was beaten by the Aurorans for fifteen or more years." She lit a torch and showed her face. Her hair was graying; her skin showed more signs of age, she had dark circles and bags around her eyes.

"E-E-Evangeline," I whispered. "How did they do that to you."

"Kalian," she smiled. "For fifteen years I have suffered. I am free. My bones have been shattered, my skin has been sliced open and I have lived on rats for years."

"J'skooma thinks Evangeline needs to rest," J'skooma blurted. "She looks tired."

"In a bed?" She asked enthusiastically. "Or on the soft grass. I have slept on cold-stone for over a decade, anything would be an improvement."

"The grass," Quick-Strike stated. "It's very soft."

The aged Evangeline looked to have aged thirty or more years. The intensity of her age must have been done by the stress. Finally, she lied down on the grass. I tried to say, "Good night." However, she was already asleep.

I lied down next to her with a tear in my eye. They owed me a blood vendetta. They changed Evangeline from the meek girl I fell in love with, to the strong and enduring woman she is now. The love I felt for Evangeline was gone. I was no longer 'in love' with her, rather I 'loved' her, but there was a severe difference.

Sleep filled my mind again.


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 whimpered. "You h-have to die."

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. The blow was a clean kill. "Impressive, I found that kill to be with a true hunter’s ferocity" Hircine’s 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, a mythical tunic rumored to be the god’s own skin.

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 insightfully added. "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 received, 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 stood with a man in black clothing, from his boots to his robes.

"High Watcher," 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," the Dark-Clothed Man 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 fraction so small of the power of Aetherius. It would vastly improve his arcane ability."

"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," the High Watcher 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 had a blindingly bright blue glow. The High Watcher put it to my chest and instantly I fell to the ground, unconscious.


When I awoke, Quick-Strike stood over me. All I could think about was Evangeline. That eight-sided, blue crystal did something to me, but my mind was on my fallen friend. A girlish giggle was heard, "Kalian, the High Watcher gave me a present." The soft-sweet voice was...Evangeline's.

The young Breton smiled. "The High Watcher ripped my soul back from the Dreamsleeve and gave me back my old body," she hugged me. "I don't remember much of the events of the Coloured Rooms, but I suppose that's for the best."

My heart rushed, we were hugging so tightly, I couldn't tell if it was my heart or hers beating. "Syrabane presented you with a gift, Kalian," Quick-Strike warned. "He did infuse your very essence with that of Aetherius; there may be side-effects. However, your power over magicka will be a fraction of J'skooma's, more than most of the greatest wizards alive can say."

"A question," I asked. "You said you were recruited to the Watchers"

"That wasn't entirely true," J'skooma shook his head. "J'skooma and Quick-Strike helped found it with Talos in 4E 97 during the Altmeri Revolution, when Mannimarco led the necromancers of the Summerset Isles against the Empire. Talos is the High-Watcher, and we are the Master-Watchers."

"What title do I hold?" I asked.

"You hold no rank within the Watchers," Quick-Strike explained. "To become a Watcher of Mundus, you must succeed extraordinary tasks. J'skooma and I destroyed the Obsidian Tower and watched Zalphon die. One day you will become a Watcher, but until that day..."

I sighed and donned my armor. It was time we started walking towards the Shrine of Sheogorath. For an hour or two we walked. The Shrine depicted a man in flamboyant clothing with a cane. It was old, cracked, and surprisingly not mossy. When we reached it, an echoing voice called out, "The Duke of Mania."

"J'skooma is here," the Khajiit responded. "J'skooma is here with Kalian."

"My, the Champion of Nirn has come here" Sheogorath awed. “To earn my favor, you must pass the Trials of Mania and the Trials of Dementia."

"Fine," I barked. Evangeline held me tightly.

"Don't worry," I whispered. "With my new-found power, I could easily pass these tests." Light-blue flame surrounded me and I was in a dark room. A short, tan-skinned, Bosmer walked over to me.

"The name is Fargoth," he laughed insanely. "You have seen my ring? It's an engraved ring of healing. Damn guards, they're always stealing it. I hate them so much, don't you?" I noticed on his finger was a lightly-glowing ring that had engravings on it.

"You have it on you," I told him. "The ring is on your finger."

"Liar," he screamed. "For that you'll die." The short elf turned into a blur. Everything faded to black when I saw him stand still. My beating heart still in hand.

chose you," Fargoth cackled. "My mother would be a better champion."

Everything went black. I could feel my blood turn to ice as I fell to my knees. I was gone. I wasn't sure if I was alive... Or dead or worse… in Sheogorath’s dream-world. When I awoke, a golden saint stood in front of me. She wore a golden-scale skirt, with a golden-scale cuirass to match, a pair of boots and gloves, and her wild-blonde mane fell to her shoulders.

"The events in the Trials of Dementia occurred. However, it wasn't your heart he removed, it was the Shard of Aetherius," The Golden Saint stated. "The Trials of Mania wait." We were in a lightly-lit room and I opened the door and took a step.

I fell, but where was I falling? As I fell, I saw Quick-Strike, J'skooma, Adam, and Evangeline, my 'family'... I was falling somewhere, I just didn't know where. I finally hit the ground, it was golden, and the entire room was golden. And there was a ceiling about six feet above my head.

I opened the golden-door and looked at where I was about to step. There was a floor, but it was a thin bridge over a gaping abyss. I took a step on it and saw a platform where a portal stood. It looked to be to Cyrodiil where I was. I slowly made my way there and when I entered...I saw something horrible... Evangeline, J'skooma, Quick-Strike, they were all dismembered. And who stood over them? A tall, ash-skinned Dunmer in a suit of black-and-red Daedric armor stood over their corpses.

"Hello, Kalian," the Dunmer laughed. "Oh, sorry I didn't want guests." I drew my sword.

"I'll kill you, Zalphon," I screamed. "Kill you!" My vision turned into red-haze as I flurried wildly. His laugh was like that of a scamp. It chilled my spine. He just kept laughing and talking about how much they moaned and begged.

I felt a sharp blade against my neck and everything went black... I was dead, at least I hoped so...

When I awoke, I was in a pair of red-silk pants and a red-silk shirt. I wore fine, doe-skin shoes. A Golden-Saint smiled at me. "Finally awake," She giggled. "Well, you passed the Trials of Dementia, now for the Trials of Mania."

"Where am I?" I asked. "The Shivering Isles?" I looked around; I was in a similar, golden, cubic room. The Golden Saint handed me a vial with a bubbling green liquid and small, white pebbles in it.

"Drink up, it's good," She told me. Obediently I wrapped my lips around the vial and let the foul-tasting liquid go down my throat. It tasted worse than roast-scamp. Around me, I saw dancing spoons and singing lutes. A beautiful melody was heard.

I looked down and there was a dirt floor hundreds of feet below me. I just laughed. I had a feeling of euphoria. My body crashed into the ground, but it didn't hurt, instead it actually tickled. Out of thin air appeared a fire atronach. "I have a riddle for you," it stated. "Are you ready?"

"Does mudcrab taste like burnt slaughterfish?" I asked rhetorically. "By the Nine, I'm ready."

"What is dark, but also light, but sometimes even both?" The Fiery Daedroth asked.

What was dark, but also light? My Aunt Kyra after a few bottles of Flin? Or perhaps a Dunmer who got bit by a vampire?

I looked up and thought of the night sky. The moon. “The moon is sometimes light, sometimes dark, and sometimes both,” I eagerly said.

The Daedroth dissapeared and there sat J'skooma. "J'skooma has the final challenge," J'skooma chuckled. "Ready?" Wow, what could this fool challenge me with?

"You should know," I said as I fell to the ground when I tried to walk over to him. "Ask me, you furry bundle of fun."

The khajiit held up his right palm which glowed bright blue. He touched my forehead and blackness entangled my vision. I don't know what happened. However, it couldn't have been good.

I opened my eyes and I was in Cyrodiil. Was it real? Or was this just another game. Quick-Strike asked, "Are you okay, Kalian?"

"Y-yes," I responded. "I was trying to decipher if this was the truth."

Evangeline rushed over and hugged me. "You're okay," she whispered. "Thank the gods."

I nodded and ruffled my hand through my hair. I looked at the map which revealed that Nocturnal's was only a few hours away if we made haste. I alerted Quick-Strike of this news, who agreed. For hours we traveled in silence. I guess I should be happy to see Evangeline, but I couldn’t waste my time.

When we reached the Shrine, a spine-chilling darkness was over us. The Shrine depicted a woman with her arms both in one-hundred eighty-degree angles and ravens on them. "What--?" I was interrupted.

"The Champion of Nirn desires my favor," Her echoing voice laughed. "Perhaps. If you succeed in my quest, I'll give you a suit of Daedric armor that Dremora wear. If you fail, then well..."

"What is the challenge, Mistress of the Night," I asked.

Nocturnal asked, "Quick-Strike?"

"Your majesty," he kneeled. "How may I be of service?"

"You are my most elite assassin," She said. "Champion, thank Quick-Strike for my favor. He has been a loyal ally to me for years, should my purpose be noble..."

"Your majesty," He humbly responded. "I think you over-exaggerate.”

A suit of Daedric armor with a sword and tower-shield appeared on the Shrine. I picked it up and took off my current armor. I put on the new suit of armor and smiled. It was not only Daedric armor, but enchanted. I could sense the life around me, yet this felt as light as a feather. I could feel my wounds regenerating.

"High Assassin Quick-Strike, may the Champion of Nirn enjoy his armor in the Daedric Civil War," She said.

I grinned at Quick-Strike. Even if he couldn't see it, I knew he noticed it. I looked at the map and sighed deeply. The next shrine was the Shrine of Peryite. He was the most pathetic of the Daedric Princes, hardly deserving of the title. I sighed once more and started to walk.

The travel to Peryite’s shrine was short compared to some of the others. When we finally reached it, we noticed that the ground around it had become marsh-like terrain with a miasma of disease about it. “Home,” Quick-Strike commented. “Just like home…”

The Shrine itself was pristine, not a single crack, not a single piece of moss. The dragon was finely carved. It was on a raised area of land. “Mortal,” the Taskmaster’s echoing voice barked. “You come for my favor? I will grant you a shield of power that can help you destroy enemy spellcasters.”

“What must I do,” I asked inquisitively. “Drink a vial of a blighted man’s blood? Organize Mora’s realm?”

“My task will require you prove yourself. You must fight in the Tournament of the Nine Blights. Ash Woe Blight, Ash-Chancre, Black-Heart Blight, Chanthrax Blight, Sanies Lupines, Serpigninous Dementia, Cannibal’s Prion, Scalon Blight,” Peryite explained.

“That’s only eight,” I said. “What is the ninth?”

“Porphyric Hemophilia, the one you will have during the Tournament,” Peryite laughed. “If you survive the Tournament of the Nine Blights, then you’ll receive the prize.”

“When do I go to the Tournament of the Nine Blights?”

“Now,” Peryite cackled. A portal appeared showing an ancient Dunmeri Ancestral Tomb. I entered. Nine vampires were in the dome-shaped room.

“You are our Champion in the Tournament of the Nine Blights?” the Altmeri Female growled. “Nevermind, I am Eldafire, the Ancient of Clan Aundae. I will bless you with the Divine Gift of Vampirism.”

Eldafire grabbed my back. She tore off my helm and bit into my neck. The anguish felt like two small daggers being plunged into my neck. I obediently took it. The Tournament of the Nine Blights would be interesting. Eldafire was basically my caretaker until the Tournament starts.

She let go of me and muttered under his breath. I fell to the ground, asleep before I hit the ground. Eldafire was obviously powerful. She survived the Summerset Wars of 4E 373 when the Summerset Isles tried to declare themselves as their own empire. Now Altmer are as rare as ebony. They can be seen once in a while, but there are very few survivors.

I let the sleep take hold of me. I would need all the energy I could get for the Tournament… Strange dreams haunted me while I slept. They were of me holding a baby who turned to ash in the day-light and blew away in the wind. A vision or a side-effect of the disease?

[Zalphon]

Chapter Five: Tournament of the Nine Blights

Three days had passed since the day I was bit. The fatigue I felt was gone and replaced with a sense of power, raw, untamed power. I grabbed a vial of Imperial Blood and sipped it. The flavor was divine, it tasted slightly of grapes.

Eldafire hissed, “Today is the first day of the Tournament, Lord Iraak will take you to the Dueling Grounds.” Out of the shadows appeared a Dunmeri Vampire. He was completely bald, light-skinned, blood-red eyes, and fangs. He made a motion for me to follow, which I did.

He led me out of the Dunmeri Ancestral Tomb; eight other buildings were in a circle around a raised steel platform. It had stairs up into it, and a steel cage. Peryite hovered above the cage and roared, “The Tournament of the Nine Blights begins today. The fight is the Champion of Sanies Lupines versus the Champion of Serpigneous Dementia.” The sunlight wasn’t natural, but it affected the werewolves like a full-moon.

Charging in was a furry-humanoid. He had light-brown fur and a wolf-like tail. His snout was canine-like. Going into the cage was also a man in iron chain-mail with a steel long-sword. The man sighed, “Let’s get this over with. My life is worthless anyway”

The feral dog bolted across the cage as soon as Peryite shouted, “Begin.” The fight was over as quickly as it started. The chain-mail clad warrior was torn limb-from-limb in a matter of seconds.

The cage-doors opened and the werewolf darted back to his mead-hall. Out of thin-air appeared a scamp who started to clean up the dead Nord. As soon as the Nord was gone, Peryite shouted, “Porphylic Hemophilia versus Ash-Woe Blight!”

Obediently I walked towards the steel-platform. I wore my suit of Daedric Armor. The enchantments were short-lived as the magic faded from it as soon as the sunlight hit it. A drooling Breton male with brownish-blonde hair wondered into the cage with help of the scamps. The Breton had a wooden spoon in his hand and a loincloth on.

“Begin,” Peryite yelled. The Breton started to hit itself with the spoon. Ash-Woe Blight affected the mind in horrible ways, I felt horrible as I beheaded him. The Scamps came out and cleaned up the cage. I left and silently headed into my quarters. I was disgusted with this entire Tournament.

Day two came. Four of us survived from yesterday, meaning two fights. And tomorrow would be the last fight. Peryite roared, "The survivors are Sanies Lupines, Porphylic Hemophelia, Scalon Blight, and Cannibal's Prion. The first fight is Sanies Lupines versus Scalon Blight."

The werewolf had gained more control over his form. He was a Nord, judging from his dress he was from one of the tribes of Solstheim. Which tribe, I couldn't say. He turned into his bestial form as the door closed behind him. Coming in was a khajiit who wore a suit of leather armor. "Begin," screamed the Green Daedric Prince.

The werewolf charged, but the khajiit leaped over him. With haste the cat-like man pulled out a short sword. The werewolf yet again charged and the khajiit stuck out his blade. It landed in the lycanthrope's arm. It yelped in anguish and then bit the khajiit in the throat.

The Beastly-Humanoid reverted back to his Nordic form. The doors opened and he returned to his mead hall. At least the khajiit had a better chance of winning than before. "The final match of the day is Porphylic Hemophelia versus Cannibal's Prion," Peryite announced.

I left the Ancestral Tomb and walked into the cage. The Champion of Cannibal's Prion was an orc. He held a large battle-axe and a suit of steel. "Begin," the Dragon roared. Obviously the hulking, green orc charged at me. I drew my blade and slashed at him, but he parried.

His axe was about to come down on me, but with agility I pulled up my tower-shield to protect me and I lunged into his chest, knocking him down. I thrust the blade into his throat and whispered, "I'm sorry..." The cleaners came out and removed the corpse.

"Tomorrow is the final match of the Tournament. If the Champion of Porphylic Hemophelia wins, he will gain a plethora of rewards both of Daedric nature and arcane nature. If the Champion of Sanies Lupines wins, he'll earn one-hundred thousand drakes and a suit of shining, Nordic steel armor," The Prince of Pestilence and Order said. I watched the dragon fly off, where to I don't know.

I headed back to the tomb and Eldafire stood there, "You've brought much honor to Clan Aundae. I am most pleased."

I nodded and headed to bed. Sleep came quickly, but I awoke. "Elder Iraak, take five reavers, and two lords with you. When he comes back, kill him and take the rewards."

"Yes, Ancient Eldafire. I am a minor god, do you remember?" He asked.

"So you think, now then... Prepare rest and after the fight be prepared for the battle."

They're going to betray me. Fine, I'll be ready for even more blood-shed after. Sleep finally consumed my mind and let me drift off into the land of dreams. However, I dreamt, I was walking through the Ruins of Vivec to meet the Ancient of Clan Tray'var. The vampires clap as I pass, as if I've done something of great honor. When I finally go up the steps and see the Ancient of Clan Tray'var, he bites into me...

When the next day came, I was ready to kill the werewolf and butcher my ‘clan’. They wanted to kill me, obviously ignorant of my power as the Champion of Nirn. I walked out of the ancestral tomb and saw not the familiar steel-cage, but an arena. Like the one in the Imperial City.

“The last fight will begin in the Grand Arena,” Peryite announced. “Enter now; the fight is to the death.” Obediently, I headed into the dirt-pit. Across from me was the werewolf.

“Begin.”

Like a blood-hound, he rushed at me. I slashed at his legs, but he pounced on me knocking me to the ground. My adrenaline kicked in and I punched the feral beast in the nose. It jumped off and ran towards the door.

“Farewell,” I said. I charged over to it and as I lifted my sword above my head, it clawed at my legs. The force of the blow knocked me down, but it didn’t bypass my armor. As the werewolf was about to bite into my neck, I muttered a spell and the beast had burn-marks on its snout. I had fried its brain.

“Congratulations,” The Green Daedric Lord said. “Your reward is the Spell-Breaker, the Ring of Phynaster, and I will send one-thousand atronach to assist you.”

I nodded and instantaneously, I appeared at the Shrine of Peryite. On the shrine was the ring of Phynaster and the Spell-Breaker. I slid on the ring and donned the Spell-Breaker. “What was the challenge?” Evangeline asked eagerly. “Please tell me.”

“I killed people too weak or too stupid from the diseases to protect themselves,” I growled. “I am no hero or champion for this, merely a tourney winner.”

“Your honor grows,” Quick-Strike smiled. “I am growing more and more proud to call you friend for your humbleness and clear mind.”

“The nearest shrine is the Shrine of Boethia,” J’skooma purred. “We best make haste.” I merely nodded as we started walking. I was no champion in the Tournament of the Nine Blights, I didn’t earn these.

I was just lucky enough to get the most powerful blight, Vampirism…

[Zalphon]

Chapter Six: The War Continues

When the stars were high in the sky, we were about three miles away. When I closed my eyes and sleep dominated my mind. I wasn’t sure if this was a dream or a vision. He was a Dunmer in a black shirt, a pair of blue pants, and leather boots. He sat in a chair in a wooden-room. He rested his legs on a wooden table and said, “Both of us were born on an uncertain day, to uncertain parents.”

“Indeed,” I responded. I was also sitting down in a wooden chair. His voice was raspy; he had long-white hair, and light-gray skin.

“The difference being Kalian,” he stated. “I am Nerevar Indoril reborn. You are Kalian Broodikus. My destiny was written in prophecy in the tides of fate. You aren’t a reborn warlord, you are Kalian Broodikus.”

“Yes,” I sighed. “I have to ask Nerevarine, why do you speak to me?”

“Because we are different souls in different bodies,” the Incarnate explained. “But we have the same fighting spirit that many lack. We are champions, by fate in our cases. I knew Zalphon, we were once friends, before I was sent to prison.”

“We were both champions, the difference being, we used our power for different reasons,” Moon-and-Star blurted out. “Unlike him, I was destined to become a champion, he was not. You are not born a champion, you become one. Zalphon will always be a champion, just as you and I will. You must resist the corruption that has tainted him and stop Dagon and Zalphon, as I stopped my ancient friend, Lord Voryn Dagoth, better known as Dagoth Ur.”

“I grew up hearing stories about you and aspired to be like you,” I said. “I always wanted to fight to protect the people. Over the last few months, I’ve learned how difficult and arduous it can be.”

“It’s a difficult task,” Indoril replied. “Sometimes it’s thankless, other times it has great rewards. I have seen many heroes never be thanked when they killed the bandits terrorizing a small village, but I became a living-god to the Dunmer people when I killed Dagoth Ur. You shouldn’t do it for the thanks; you should do it to help the people.”

“I do it to help and protect the people,” I nodded. “If a hero does it for the rewards, then he’s not a hero, but a mercenary.”

“Indeed and farewell,” Nerevar said. Then I awoke. One thought was in my mind. Should I tell Quick-Strike of my dream or keep it a secret. Evangeline smiled at me and hugged me. I gently kissed her and got up. I donned my armor and ate with the rest of my companions.

Once we finished eating, it took us an hour to reach the Shrine of Boethia. “My, the Champion of Nirn has come to make a pilgrimage,” the Echoing Voice of Boethia invaded. The Shrine of Boethia depicted a cloaked warrior with a large axe in his hands.

“Indeed,” I said. “What must I do to earn your favor, Boethia.”

“In Cheydinhal, there is an Imperial Count in rule of the city. Kill him without being discovered and you’ll receive my greatest sword, Goldbrand,” The Daedric Prince commanded. “And I’ll send my Morag Tong followers to assist you in the Deadlands.”

“I shall do my best to eliminate the Imperial Count,” I swore. I didn’t like it, but when the fate of millions was the price of one life, I was willing to pay it. I started walking towards Cheydinhal, ready to eliminate the Count.

I reached Cheydinal when the moon was high in the sky. The guard at the gate wore an unusual armor. A suit of steel armor and he held an ebony long-sword. “Do you have an appointment with Count Victor?” he asked.

“I am a traveler,” I replied. “I seek refuge in the walls of Cheydinhal.”

“Only natives of Cheydinhal and chosen outsiders are allowed,” the Guard spit. “You’re obviously not a native. If you were, you’d be in something more suitable. And you’re not a chosen outsider, they have special papers.”

N’wah. This would be slightly harder than I thought. Quick-Strike gave me the sign for “okay” and I drew my blade. A throwing knife appeared in the guard’s neck and I hissed a spell in alteration to push open the door.

“Sound the alarms,” a Watchman called. “Intruders are trying to enter Cheydinhal.” I heard a sonic-booming voice.

“Citizens of Cheydinhal, defend yourself,” a loud voice shouted. “Invaders have come to kill us, draw your arms.”

I sighed deeply and charged towards the Watchman. He wore a suit of iron chain-mail and held a halberd of the same material. With a lunge, I struck his heart. The watchman fell in slow motion to my eyes. His eyes filled with emotion and fear. “Defend yourself,” Nerevar’s voice invaded. “Kill the guards, Evangeline is killing the wizard, while J’skooma is dispelling the spell-barrier that stops teleportation around Castle Cheydinhal.”

My blade danced through the swarms of guards. Blood sprayed onto my helm and my armor. Tears burned my eyes as my blade and entered and exited the protectors of Cheydinhal.

I saw a man in a suit of Daedric armor with a black great-sword walk into the streets of Cheydinhal. The guards stopped fighting and kneeled. “I am, Umbra, prepare to die,” the warrior commanded. “I have defended Cheydinhal for two-hundred and fifty years. I will not stop today.”

His blade almost decapitated me, but I parried. “Surrender, Umbra,” I replied with confidence. “I will not die; my destiny is written in the Tides of Fate. Yours need not end here.”

“For three-hundred years I have walked Nirn,” Umbra growled as he continued the assault. “I long for death, but it will not come to me.”

He knocked me down with the hilt of the sword and right as he was about to thrust the blade into my chest and kill me. I slashed at his throat, causing suffocation and extreme blood loss. Umbra was dead. Another enslaved follower of the blade would rise up, but that would be some time later.

The guard-captain kneeled before me, “We shall defend against the Count if we see him.”

I ran through the streets and saw the colossal, Castle Cheydinhal. The Chapel of Arkay was now dedicated to Mephala. The huge, double-doors of Castle Cheydinhal opened and out walked Count Victor Drake. “The outsider that has killed Umbra,” he said in surprise. “Interesting that you killed our strongest warrior with ease. You should know I will kill you, Champion.”

Quick-Strike threw a blade inside the neck of Count Victor. The aged vampire fell to his knees and coughed. One of the guards walked over and put his sword to the throat of the Count and decapitated him. The Argonian jumped down to me and said, “We will talk when we leave.” The Guards of Cheydinhal bowed; apparently they only served in fear.

When we left Cheydinhal, Quick-Strike stopped me. “I have been made the Grand Watcher, before Magnus, J’skooma, and I held equal rank. Now I am in command of the entire order. Magnus died to Zalphon, this is a sad day. I will meet you at the Shrine of Boethia, as will J’skooma.”

The Argonian ran off into the blackness of the night. “Kalian,” Evangeline whispered. “I just received word that my sister is dying. She lives in Pell’s Gate and I must try to help her. Will you come with?”

It stung to say the words, “No.”

She whimpered, “R-really?”

“I have more important things.”

“I am going to Pell’s Gate, when we head to the Dead Lands, I will fight with you. But I must try to help my sister.”

Tears burnt my eyes as I watched her teleport away.

When I reached the Shrine of Boethia, his voice echoed, “The Count lies dead, yet your friend is gone.”

“Give me my reward, Boethia.”

A black cloak with a hood appeared on the shrine and wrapped up in it was a golden katana. I set down my shield and donned the cloak. “My cloak will hide you when you need and always keep your identity a secret from those who don’t use magic to detect you.”

“Nerevar sends me word that he would like to speak to you. J’skooma will take us to Akavir, however be wary, the dangers are powerful,” Quick-Strike warned cryptically. “Especially the Tscaesci, who’ll tear you to pieces if you are not careful.”

I nodded and bright-blue light surrounded me.

We were in the wooden house I saw in my dreams. However, I stood over a Dunmer with white hair, a black shirt, blue pants, and tanned work-boots. “Moon-and-Star lies dead,” Quick-Strike noted. “The Tscaesci must be at work here.” I turned over his body to reveal two holes in his neck.

“The Ts-Tscaesci?” I asked. They’re more dangerous than any creature in Tamriel.”

“Indeed,” J’skooma stated. “J’skooma remembers the last time he fought a Tscaesci, the golden-scaled snake-man was powerful. He had the upper-body of a man, but a snake’s head and a snake’s tail.”

“Sssslither will be glad,” A hissing voice said. “Sssslither will be pleased.” I looked to where it was coming from. A golden-scaled snake-man slid down the stairs. His golden eyes with black slits for pupils dug into my soul. He wielded a katana and donned a cuirass of black-metal scales.

“Stay here,” Quick-Strike ordered. He drew his blades and charged at the Tscaesci. The creature parried every blow from the Argonian. I charged and drew my blade. With a mighty blow, Goldbrand bounced off the cuirass.

“G-G-Goldbrand didn’t cut through his armor?” I asked myself in disbelief. “It didn’t cut through.” My voice dripped with fear. The snake-man swung his sword at me, and I felt immense pain in my left hand.

I screamed in pain, “Owww!” When I looked at it, I didn’t have a left hand. It had been severed, blood gushed from it. I fainted, cowardly I know, but I couldn’t stand the sight of my own blood.

I awoke sometime later. “Was that a dream?” I questioned. “Are we alive?”

“It was real,” Quick-Strike reminded me. “The Tscaesci amputated your limb. However, Nerevar had an artifact in his possession. Yagrum Bagarn created a special Dwemer gauntlet that would serve as either hand for the user. It would bind to their stump forever. I looked at my hand. A golden-metallic glove had become my left hand.

“J’skooma read that it’s less dexterous than a normal hand, but stronger,” the Khajiit blurted. “It is called, ‘the Gauntlet’”

I was handed a note. It was kind of hard to grasp with my left hand, due to the new-ness. It didn’t feel right at all. It was quickly scrawled down on the paper.

“Kalian,

I knew you would come to Akavir to answer my plight. I leave you my twin-blades. Trueflame and Hopesfire are the ones. They are yours to use against Dagon. However, I ask that you defeat the Tscaesci who slaughtered the Imperial Settlers.

You may leave if you so choose, but remember Azura watches. We are champions, you may use your power if you will, but I ask that you use it to avenge these people. The Tscaesci are approaching my home, when you arrive I’ll be dead.

Signed,

Lord Nerevar Indoril”

I walked over to a display case which held the twin blades. I opened and a tear fell from my eye to the case. My hero was dead; I had idolized this man since I was a small boy. Nerevar Indoril the Chimer Warlord and the Incarnate, he was the man I always wanted to be.

I firmly gripped Trueflame in my right hand and Hopesfire in my new hand. Trueflame was far lighter and Hopesfire wasn’t exactly heavy. “Do they feel right?” Quick-Strike asked. “They are yours now, use them well.”

I nodded and swung them a little bit. They felt like an extension of my arm. They both glowed brightly with power. I headed up the stairs and saw a jewelry box. I opened it and saw a weird ring and put it on. An image filled my mind of Lord Voryn Dagoth. The Heart Ring was engraved into it. I pulled out another ring and put it on and I saw a vision of an Ash Vampire. The Blood Ring was inscribed into it. I put on an amulet that looked similar to the Heart Ring and saw a vision of another Ash Vampire. The Amulet of Heartfire was a long, black necklace with a red pyramid.

I looked at his dressers. I opened it and noticed a white-shirt with a black jacket and put it on. A pair of white pants made of a silken-fabric. I put on my armor back over these clothes. “Nerevar would be honored to see you in these clothes,” Quick-Strike said. “The Tscaesci await us.”

I walked out of the house, I saw an abandoned Imperial Settlement. It took me a few minutes to jog over there with Quick-Strike and J’skooma following. Corpses littered the ground; tears burned my eyes to see how many were dead. “J’skooma thinks Moon-and-Star told the truth, they really were exterminated,” J’skooma cried out. “J’skooma is sad.”

“Indeed,” I said. “The Tscaesci will pay, I swear it…”

I took a few steps outside of the house and saw a Tscaesci. With all the rage building up inside me, I couldn’t help it; I charged at it with both blades in hand. The golden-scaled creature parried with its long-bladed katana. “You dare attack his blessssed, I will smite you,” the creature hissed. Who is he that this creature speaks of?

I thrust Hopesfire into the Tscaesci and barked, “Give me the answers I want. Who is he?” I interrogated as I twisted the blade. “Follow me and remove your blade, ssssoft-ssssscale.”

Obediently, I tore the blade out of his flesh. He screamed in anguish, it stung my ears, but I shed no tears for the beast that attacked Moon-and-Star. The Tscaesci slithered towards the Imperial Settlement. We entered the town-hall and there stood a Tscaesci in a plate-mail breast-plate with a shining, silver claymore in hand. I recognized the runes on it from a book. Chrysamere was the blade that he held.

“I am the warlord who killed the villagers,” It explained. “I do not lead the Tscaesci people, but I will gladly take those swords, Kalian.”

He didn’t have the same speech impediment as other Tscaesci and he knew my name. This was strange. “How do you know my name,” I inquisitively replied.

“I’ll die before I tell you anything,” the Warlord snarled. “Draw your blades or I’ll plunge them into your heart. Actually, I think I’ll do that anyway.” His red eyes and black pupils spit ice down my spine.

Quick-Strike whispered, “We’ll watch the door so no more Tscaesci can enter the fray.”

I nodded and the Warlord came near me and slashed at me. With Trueflame, I parried and with Hopesfire, I riposted. “We killed the dragons, and we can easily kill you,” he taunted. “Tosh Raka is the only survivor of our conquest.”

I had to win this fight or risk execution or worse, their dark rituals. Hopesfire slashed at the throat, while Trueflame aimed for the stomach. Trueflame cut through the armor and into the chest, but my off-hand weapon missed. His mighty blade hit my arm and I felt it burn.

“Now you shall die, soft-scale,” he hissed in anguish. “I’ll use your spine as a beating stick for the hatchlings.” I felt his blade cut into my neck and everything went black. I thought I was dead, but when I awoke I was in a loin-cloth in a gray-stone dungeon in a cell. It reminded me of the Imperial Prison a little bit.

“Poor ssssoft-ssssscale,” the Jailor cackled. “You had to pick a fight with the most powerful race to ever walk Nirn.”

My cell-mate looked at me. He was an Imperial. His hair was long, dirty, and white, he boast a white beard and a thin abdomen. “I been in here since they attacked us,” he sighed. “I’m going to die in here. So will you.”

The Jailor came back. It was smaller than most other Tscaesci I had seen, so I guessed it was a female. “I have been hungering and you’re sssso old and feeble,” the Tscaesci said as she opened the cell. She grabbed my cell-mate and sunk her fangs into his neck.

I would’ve done something, but I’d be next if I did. She dragged him out, he gave no struggle. I was alone, no Quick-Strike, no J’skooma, and no Evangeline. I would have to fight my way out or get out on my own.

I looked at my shackles and had an idea. “Hey Tscaesci, couldn’t kill all the dragons,” I barked. “You’re so pathetic; I bet the tiger-people could easily snap your neck.” Never had I seen a snake-creature move so fast. Within a few seconds she was in my cell. I used the chain of my shackles to suffocate her. It took a few minutes, but I grabbed the key-ring and unlocked my bindings.

I moved silently as I walked out of the cell. I looked in the other cells, just bones. A plain, wooden chest was locked at the end of the hall and I ran over to it. Perhaps it held my swords. When I opened it, it had a note.

“Hissarisi,

Hissarisi, after you read this note burn it. The prisoner you have is extremely dangerous. The High Shaman has seen a vision of this soft-scale. She said that he will bring down our empire if we don’t stop him.

His Argonian and Khajiit companions are going to be executed next Morndas, by the Emperor himself. He supposedly has fought them in the past, but they nearly killed him. If the soft-scale causes any trouble kill him.

Lord Skar.”

Quick-Strike and J’skooma would be executed seven days from now. I had to stop this, even if it meant I could die. They’ve saved my life more times than I can count; now I need to repay the favor.

My armor was gone, my weapons were gone, and I would need some protection of some kind. I looked in the Jailor’s office and saw a chest. I opened it and noticed a steel chain-mail tunic, a pair of pants, and some leather boots. Most likely the other prisoner’s belongings, not that he would need them anymore. I put on the clothes and armor. I could use a weapon, but I’d be okay for now.

Now that I had some armor, I would need to escape the prison and make it to the Tscaesci palace to rescue my friends. It was time for me to finally live up to the title of the Champion of Nirn by rescuing one of the oldest guardians of it…

I slowly crept out of the prison and heard two voices. “Quick-Strike shall die,” one voice hissed. “He must be tortured.”

“Perhaps, Scythe, perhaps he will,” the other responded. I looked at my feet for something to distract them. A few pebbles and a small stone. My hands firmly wrapped around the stone and I tossed it across the hall-way.

Their golden-scaled tails slithered past the sconce-lit stair-case. I silently darted up the stairs. When I reached the top I saw a Tscaesci, his bright gold scales and dark red eyes scanned the room. The light of the torches reflected off his shiny scales and cuirass. He flicked his tongue in the air and noticed me.

The creature sprinted towards me with both of ebony katana drawn. “I am a member of the Tscaesci Blades. Prepare to die,” he ordered. His voice was intimidating to say the least; I could sense his rage.

With a prayer to the Nine, I tried to punch him. However, it didn’t work. My mind was filled with a searing vision of Tamriel. The sky was red, the White-Gold tower was as black as night. Daedra marched across and killed the mortals, skeletal soldiers aided in the butchery.

I then saw a Dunmer standing atop the White-Gold Tower. He shouted with a booming voice, “On this day, Nirn shall be purged. Reborn from the ashes it shall be…”

My fist bounced off the armor as I returned to reality. I had failed, Tamriel had fallen and soon, Nirn would too. I had to save Quick-Strike and J’skooma, Zalphon needed to die.

The palace began to crumble as I heard a roar, “Tamriel is the first step to the end of Nirn.” When a piece of ceiling fell, I saw a huge, orange dragon with black tiger stripes. He flew down and grabbed me with his left claw; Quick-Strike and J’skooma were on his back.

“Tosh Raka?” I asked in amazement. It was real dragon, not just a fairytale. It was thee Tosh Raka.

“Indeed,” he telepathically said. “Tamriel has already begun to fall, I shall leave you in Mournhold, it is one of the Holding Pens of Tamriel.” I merely nodded and appeared in the City of Lights and Magic.

The beauty was gone; Dremora held long swords and archers lined the walls. We were captives, but I could get out by finding the ancient portal to Tamriel that is rumored to be in the sewers. “Halt,” a Daedric Foot-Soldier ordered. “Why are you in armor and not in the slave-uniform?”
“I…Ummm… I was just transferred here from Fort Vos in Vvardenfell,” I lied. I wasn’t sure if he believed it, but I hoped.

“It is very interesting that you were transferred from the Fort that was destroyed several weeks ago.” I saw a look on his face. Disbelief showed in his crimson eyes. “Master Arkoth, this is one of the rebels.”

A lich walked over. “Kalian, the dark lord told us of you. Kill him,” Arkoth barked. “If he escapes, I’ll personally make sure all of you scribs are being bathed in flame for the next month.”

The guards charged at me, but the enthralled prisoners revolted. Just the thing I needed. I made a hand-signal pointing to a sewer grate and we jumped in. The smell was foul, but it was our only chance. Hundreds of years ago, the Nerevarine killed the goblins and their Altmeri trainers down here, hopefully there are no remnants.

“Tosh Raka is a dear friend of J’skooma’s,” the Wizard smiled. “J’skooma saved Tosh Raka from the Demons of Kamal long ago.”

“Indeed,” Quick-Strike stated. “When Zalphon, J’skooma, and I navigated these sewers in search of the traitorous dog, Helseth, we found a gateway to the White-Gold Tower. I wonder if it still exists.”

The dark, damp under-works of Mournhold had a stench of death and Skooma. For hours we navigated, but to no avail. Finally, we saw a metal door and I pushed it open. An ovular-portal stood there, but in front of it stood him…

Adam wore a suit of black-and-red Daedric armor. “Zalphon brought me back, I was reborn. He told me you’d come, he told me to kill you.”

“Stop,” I cried out. “This doesn’t have to happen.”

“Am I corrupt? Is that what you think? I am enlightened, fools. Surrender yourself to his will and you’ll feel the grasp of death, what a wonderful grip it has.”

“You know that’s false, as do I.”

“Is it false? I have brought forth revolution, my power is beyond imagination.”

I drew my blade and he mimicked me. Quick-Strike charged and stabbed at the vampire. However, they slid off his armor. I thrust my blade into the weak-spot of his armor, his neck. Adam hissed, “I pray this will be my final rest, I have much atonement in the after-life.” I kneeled over him and a tear burnt my face and slid to his chest.

We entered the portal; the fate of Nirn was on our shoulders… The question was, would we succeed?

[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

[Zalphon]

Epilogue

Tamriel was changed after Zalphon fell. A long-lost Septim descendent was found, Reman Septim. He brought peace to the Empire and restored it to the glory it had during the previous Septim Dynasty.

Kalian became a hero to the people of Nirn. The Tscaesci viewed him as the Great Protector. The peoples of Tamriel made several stories for him. The Dunmer of Morrowind called him the Incarnate of Vivec. The Nords of Skyrim called him the Grand Warrior, while the Nords of Solstheim call him the Guardian Spirit.

The Denizens of Illiac Bay called him the Avatar of Ebonarm. The Argonians of the Black Marsh said he was the Hero of Argonia. The Khajiit of Elsewyr noted him as the High Protector. The Bosmer of Valenwood named him the High Ranger.

However, he had one name in common to all of them. The Champion of Nirn was his title. In the town of Sutch, there was a Chapel of Kalian. To the people of Tamriel, he was more than a hero…

Forever more; Kalian Broodikus would be remembered in the hearts of the survivors and the libraries of Tamriel...

[mALX]

That is such a sad ending !!! This has to be one of your best writes yet !!!! You have edited this from the original, haven't you? AWESOME WRITE !!!!!!