Blood and Corruption, A Fan-Fiction Options

[Zalphon]

Prologue

I kneeled before Emperor Pelagius, we all did. The year was 4E 575. He had come to greet the Imperial Legion’s soon-to-be soldiers in Morrowind. The Great Houses were back to their former power, thanks to Divayth Fyr’s work to restore it to what it was before Lie Rock hit.

The cities were gone, but some were rebuilt. We were going to Morrowind, to defend against the Argonians who were trying to take it again. I was one of the battle-mages to be going to Vvardenfell.

Pelagius stated, “You are the Empire’s Finest. The Marsh Knights as they call themselves try yet again to take Morrowind. Some of you will go to the Main Land to defend against their forces; others will go to Vvardenfell to keep order.”

“Listen up, soldiers,” Knight of the Dragon Trask Gro-Tralog barked. “Once we win this war and the Marsh Knights are captured, we’re all coming back here to Cyrodiil as war heroes.”

We all cheered and raised our blades with enthusiasm. About five-thousand of us stood in the streets of the Imperial City at the Palace District. We wore suits of Imperial-Steel Armor, while the officers wore suits of Templar Armor made from ebony, but painted to be gold.

After the Emperor left, my friend, Saraya smiled, “You looking forward to going to your homeland, you Ashen-Born son of a vampire?” Her smile revealed brilliant white teeth. She was an Imperial raised in Elsewyr, which made it strange her teeth were so clean due to all the sugar.

“Do khajiit smoke Skooma?” I asked rhetorically. Saraya smiled at me gently. We had known each other since we enlisted five years ago. She was my bunk mate and she was one in a million of friends.

“Kalarn,” she sighed with a grin. “You always mock Khajiits. Did one of those mean khajiits get your tongue when you were little?”

I simply chuckled, “Funny, now I need to go.” I walked away, wading through the streets of the Imperial City. Hundreds of people looked at me, some saluted, some scowled, and others paid no notice. I was a hero at least to some. The Marsh Knights hated all Dunmer.

The moon rose and the streets emptied. In an alley, I noticed a young Breton girl casting a spell and a Skooma pipe lighting up. A tear burned my eyes, another life lost to the drug.

Imperium Tong twenty-five years ago had a lot of it in the circulation, and then some Bosmer single-handedly took them out with the help of an Argonian and a khajiit. At least that’s what the history books said.

I found myself crawling to a tavern, it was warmly, quiet, and tranquil. The Tavern Keeper smiled. An aging imperial dressed in a blue shirt and black pants smiled. “Can I get a room?”

He nodded and as I pulled out my coin-purse, “Sorry, Soldier. Your money’s no good here. The bed is upstairs to the left, here’s the key.” I snatched the key and headed up the stairs to blissful sleep.

Tomorrow, Vvardenfell awaited me. Champion Kalarn Dralas of the Imperial Legion. Five years ago, I was just a recruit, but my outstanding duty has earned me a position right below the Knights.

My mind faded into the dream world. Vaermina’s realm...