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

[Colonel Mustard]

And now the fun really begins...

Part 11-Assassins

The passageway was dark-there were no torches to light the way, only those carried by Glenroy and Baurus. Alicarius had activated his helmet's darksun filters, to allow him to see in the darkness of the catacomb-like corridors, but he knew that the others had no such aid. If he let his vigilance fall for a moment, he had no doubt that there would be trouble.

He knew how to analyse an enemy's battle plan, and he could guess that the assassins had known that the Emperor would try and escape using this route, so would most likely be lying in ambush. It would be a dangerous route, but unfortunately the only conceivable way to Cloud Ruler Temple, the stronghold Renault had spoken about, was through the tunnels.

Alicarius switched his helmet to infra-red view, reasoning that if he could see the assassins through the walls then they could gain an edge over them, but quickly abandoned the idea-the cold stone simply swamped the helmet's autosenses.

There was no conversation among the group-they were all straining to hear a noise that could indicate danger and had their weapons out. The argonian even had his fists ready, and Alicarius was under no illusions that his talons would not be capable of causing some some serious damage.

The cautious silence was suddenly interrupted by a scream of; “BLOOD FOR LORD DAGON!!” and an assassin leapt down from the darkness of an upper level, straight on top of Captain Renault. Alicarius didn't see her immediate fate as he felt the weight of another assassin land on top of him. There was a hammerblow to the top of his helmet as his attacker attempted to brain him with a mace, but Alicarius' helm held firm. He grabbed the assassin and grabbed the man, slamming him against a wall. There was a spray of blood as the assassin was crushed, as well as a cloud of red smoke appearing.

Alicarius took stock of the situation immediately-Baurus and Glenroy were fighting furiously with a trio of assassins, while Walker on the Water was wrestling with an assassin who had made a beeline for the Emperor, before cutting the fight short by simply clamping his massive jaws around the assassin's face. Captain Renault was nowhere to be seen.

Alicarius grabbed one of the assassins battling Glenroy and Baurus, mercilessly crushing the life out of the man, before throwing the corpse at another one of the assassins, knocking the man to the ground with a painful crack. Meanwhile, with skill born out of years of experience, training and teamwork, Baurus and Glenroy quickly despatched the final assassin.

“Where's Captain Renault?” Alicarius asked.

“Down there, sir,” Glenroy said, pointing at the floor.

Captain Renault was dead, no doubt killed in the ambush. He skull had been crushed, and blood leaked from a deep wound in her midriff. She looked surprising peaceful-despite the horrendous damage done to her skull her face was untouched and had an expression of perfect calm on it.

“She shall be remembered,” the Emperor said, forlornly. “At least she died in battle, and with honour. I want someone sent down here as soon as we get out to retrieve her body. I'll have her buried with the honours a warrior of her position deserves-it's the least she deserves.”

He suddenly sounded calmer, more confident and in control. Perhaps, Alicarius mused, seeing the death of one his most loyal bodyguards first hand had put his situation into perspective. He'd seen it before-soldiers close to panic who would suddenly fight like madmen when they realised they had no choice but to do so. He doubted that an old man such as Uriel Septim would do the same, but he knew that if his charge was not going to panic then it would make his job a lot easier.

He suddenly remembered the war cry one of the cultists had yelled. So, just as he had expected, Mehrunes Dagon was the local manifestation of Khorne. The signs were all there-the obsession with honour, the complete lack of fear with which the cultists attacked and the red robes they wore. They all pointed towards worship of the lord of skulls and blood.

“We need to get moving,” Baurus said, at a door. “You stay here, prisoner.”

Walker looked irritated, but had more sense than to start an argument with three fully armed and armoured warriors.

The door led onto more corridors, some of which had the openings to more of those upper levels-they knew that if there were assassins were lurking in the darkness then they would most likely fall victim to the trick that had seen Renault dead.

Surprisingly, they advanced a fair distance unmolested, the only trouble they ran into was the occasional rat, but they didn't drop their guard.

Then a dark shape dropped from one of the openings, causing the entire group to spin. Alicarius raised his storm bolter, ready to send whoever it was into an explosive oblivion. Normally he would be loath to waste ammunition without any replacement, but he wanted the Emperor safe. No matter what his training demanded.

The figure that emerged from the shadows was the last one any of them expected to see-Walker.

“Peace,” he said, raising his arms. He had acquired a sword and some armour from somewhere, and judging by a few scratches on his arms he had been in a fight. “I mean you no ill.”

“How did you get here?” Baurus asked, suspicious.

“There was an old wall,” Walker said. “It just crumbled down and led to some caves, and then I just found my way here.”

“A likely story,” growled Glenroy, drawing his katana. “I say we kill him-he might be working with the assassins.”

Walker drew his own weapon, a slightly rusty sword, and readied himself for a fight.

“Wait,” the Emperor said. “Do not kill him. He is trustworthy.”

Glenroy grudgingly sheathed his weapon, and Walker did the same.

“The gods themselves have bought this argonian here,” he said. He turned to Walker. “You know of the Nine, how they guide our fates and futures?”

The argonian shook his head.

“Me?” he said. “I'm a simple thief-I'm not on good terms with the gods of any pantheon.”

“No matter,” the Emperor said. “Our fates are decided by them on the day of our births. And it has been decided that I go to my grave today.”

“How do you know that?” Walker asked. “Aren't you afraid to die?”

“I made my peace with the world a long time ago,” Uriel replied. “The Septim's dragon blood has shown me my fate and I can change it no more easily than I can command the tide to turn back before me. I cannot tell what will become of you, my friend, but a tongue shriller than any music calls me to my grave.”

“Enough talk, your majesty, we need to go,” Baurus asked. “And I doubt that will be true-I bet your prophecies never took Alicarius into account.”

The group continued, before coming to another large chamber. There was a staircase down to a lower part, and several pillars, but apart form that it was the same to the other marble built tunnels the Emperor and his bodyguards had passed through. Alicarius scanned the shadows with his helmet's darksun filters, but apart from a few strange ripples in the air here and there, there was nothing.

“Stay here,” Baurus said. “I'll scout ahead.”

There was a curse, and the others hurried to catch up with him.

“What's wrong?” Glenroy asked.

“The gate's barred,” Baurus said. “It's a trap.”

Alicarius tried to wrench the portal free of its hinges, but it was no use-obviously it had been strengthened by magic of some sort.

“There must be some other way out,” Baurus said.

“Over here,” Walker called. “I found a room.”

There was one, but it was a dead end.

“It's no use,” Alicarius said. “The assassins will have...”

He was cut off by a furious yell of “SKULLS FOR DAGON'S THRONE!!”

“Guard the Emperor with your life!” Alicarius shouted to Walker, before thundering back through the doorway to confront the assassins.

There was almost a dozen of them, and even as Alicarius swept aside a pair of them with his halberd another jumped on his back and attempted to jam a dagger in the weak joint between his helmet's neck joint and his armour. Alicarius span on the spot and smashed the man's legs against a pillar with a sickening crunch. He dropped to the ground screaming in agony.

Alicarius swung his halberd in an arc towards another assassin, then cursed as the man dodged the cumbersome weapon. He realised that he would need a sword or gladius of some sort-a halberd was all very well and good on the open battlefield, but in enclosed spaces such as these its length became an encumbrance. And he knew that he simply couldn't pummel every enemy he met in a cave or building to death.

He pushed the distracting thoughts to one side and grabbed another of the assassins, a woman this time, smashing her into a pillar.

Glenroy and Baurus were fighting back to back against almost half a dozen attackers, their katanas a blur of motion as they desperately parried and countered the blows that rained against them. Then an assassin ducked under Glenroy's guard and delivered a vicious stab to the bodyguard's stomach. Baurus gave a roar of rage and span, decapitating the assassin in one swift moment, but he was too late. Glenroy crumpled to his knees, dead.

Alicarius thundered into the midst of the assassins, scattering them like ninepins and killing a few with his sheer weight and momentum, before Baurus finished them with his katana.

They both rushed to where the Emperor was, before seeing the horrific truth.

The Emperor was dead.

“What the hell happened?” Baurus quizzed Walker, who was sat against a wall, clutching a heavily bleeding stab wound.

“An assassin,” Walker coughed, teeth clenched with pain. “He came through a wall, there.”

The argonian jerked a finger to an alcove, where a wall slid down.

“He took us both by surprise,” he said. “He got the Emperor straight off, then fought me. I got the honoured user, but he stabbed me.”

He stopped his explanation to cough up a gobbet of blood.

“He gave me this too,” he said weakly, holding up an amulet, with a shining red jewel upon it. “He said to take it to Jauffre, and that he would find the heir.”

“He said there was an heir?” Baurus asked. Walker nodded weakly. “Here,” Baurus continued. “I've got a healing potion. Drink it. Did the Emperor say anything else?”

The argonian gulped the potion down rapidly.

“He said to close shut the jaws of oblivion,” Walker said. “That was all.”

The argonian's eyes closed, and he slumped back, but the gentle rise of his chest indicated that he was still alive, if barely.

“There was an heir?” Alicarius asked. “I thought he said his sons were dead?”

“They most likely are,” Baurus said. “There must have been a lost heir-perhaps only Jauffre and the Emperor knew about him.”

“Who's Jauffre, then?” Alicarius said. He needed the information, and fast.

“Jauffre is the grand master of The Blades,” Baurus said. “If there's a lost heir, then he'll know for certain. I thought he was retired-he lives as a monk in Weynon Priory, but if he knows then he's our best hope. Do you know where Weynon Priory is?”

Alicarius nodded-he'd travelled past it to and from Chorrol.

“Take the amulet,” Baurus said. “You should get it to Jauffre-you'll be able to deal with any danger. I'll guard the Emperor's body and look after the argonian.”

“I'll get going straight away,” Alicarius said. “Oh, and his name is Walker. Walker on the Water.”

Baurus nodded.

“Get going,” he said. “We haven't a moment to lose.”

[Colonel Mustard]

And some more.

Part 12-Kvatch

Nothing can stop a space marine when he has a mission. He can be delayed, he can be diverted, but if he must get somewhere, he will get there-nothing short of killing him will stop him.

Thus was the case with Alicarius. He left the darkness of the Imperial City's ancient passages, and into the city. A few guards attempted to stop him, no doubt trying to find out what had become of the Emperor, but he simply stepped through them. After he broke the arm of a particularly persistent guard, the others got the hint and left him be.

So he continued onwards, relentless and implacable.

He travelled for almost twenty four solid hours, not bothering with resting-he simply allowed one half of his brain to go into hyper-sleep for a few hours, to keep it working fully, before switching to the other half. A Minotaur attempted to stop him, but Alicarius simply hammered his fist into the beast's skull without breaking stride, leaving it to die.

By the time he had reached Weynon Priory, his mind had gone into a zone of perfect, determined calm. Nothing would stop him in his execution of his duty.

He knocked on the door of the priory, to be greeted by a monk.

“What is it?” he snapped irritably, no doubt irritated by being disturbed at such a late hour. Then he saw Alicarius' massive bulk fully, and his draw dropped in surprise. “You're the Grey Knight, aren't you?”

Alicarius nodded.

“I need to Jauffre,” he said. “Immediately.”

“What about?” the monk asked.

“It's a matter of utmost urgency,” Alicarius said. “It would be in the best interests of all if you let me in.”

The monk allowed him in, unwilling to argue with the space marine.

“Jauffre's up the stairs, to the right,” he said.

Alicarius made his way up the wooden steps, hoping that they would support his weight. Fortunately they did, but that had always been a concern of his after he had almost fallen through the floorboards of Chorrol's Fighters Guild headquarters.

Jauffre was at a desk, writing out something at a desk with a quill. He was dressed in simple monk's robes, but Alicarius could tell that the elderly man had been, and was more, than just a humble monk.

“So you've arrived,” Jauffre said, barely looking up from his writing. “I've been expecting you, and I'm grateful that you came as quickly as you did. According to the message Baurus sent me via carrier pigeon, you have an amulet.”

“I have it right here,” Alicarius said. He reached into a specially sealed part of his power armour and produced the amulet. He'd scanned it via his mind sight, and had discovered it was a powerful magical artefact, yet it seemed to be different from many of the other enchanted items that abounded on this world-not only was it vastly powerful, but the power had a different quality to it. It was vaguely reminiscent to the psychic wards the Grey Knights placed upon their armour, ones drawing upon the divine power of the Emperor as opposed to that of the warp.

Jauffre breathed a sigh of relief as he inspected the amulet.

“This is it, thank goodness,” he said.

“I didn't just come to deliver the amulet,” Alicarius said. “There was a lost heir mentioned. Is this true?”

“It's true,” Jauffre said. “An illegitimate son, but nonetheless a son who can relight the dragonfires.”

“Dragonfires?” Alicarius asked.

“The dragonfires reside in the Temple of the Nine in the Imperial City,” Jauffre said. “They can only be lit by those who have the blood of the Septims. There was a son, called Martin-he lives in Kvatch, as a priest. I was ordered to keep an eye on him when he was young. But did the Emperor say anything else?”

“He said to close shut the jaws of Oblivion,” Alicarius said. “Whatever that means, it sounds ominous.”

Jauffre took a deep, contemplative breath before speaking.

“There's only thing I can think of that that would mean,” he said eventually. “And I can only hope that it is not true.”

“What would that be?” Alicarius asked.

“You know of Oblivion, the realm of the daedra?” Jauffre asked. Alicarius nodded-the very first thing he had come across in Nirn had been a nest of daedra worshippers, after all. “It could be that the dragonfires may form a barrier between this world and there. Uriel often hinted at that sort of thing, but never said anything definite-he always loved a riddle.”

“So you fear a daedric invasion?” Alicarius asked. Part of him was already priming itself for combat-he was made to fight daemons, in whatever forms they presented themselves, and would do so, no matter what.

“That's precisely what I think may be happening,” Jauffre replied. “But we need to prioritise-we must find Martin and get the dragonfires lit. If we can manage that quickly enough then we may be able to stop the invasion before it starts.”

Alicarius nodded.

“I'll get to Kvatch immediately,” he said.

#

Alicarius rested a few hours before he left, allowing his brain to catch up on some much needed sleep. But after his short break, he made his way to Kvatch. Hopefully, he could find Martin, get him safely back to Weynon Priory and have the dragonfires relit within a few days.

But he had a gut feeling that things weren't going to be as simple as that. The Mythic Dawn seemed to be outwit and outmanoeuvre both him and the Blades, and he was expecting trouble at the city.

But Alicarius had never expected trouble on the scale he discovered.

His first clue that something was wrong was the storm. It was like no other storm he had ever seen. The sky turned a deep crimson, black clouds rumbled with threatening thunder and golden lightning flashed across the sky. He scanned it with his mind sight and discovered a haze of warp energy hidden in the clouds. It was a classic indicator of one the worst fates to befall a world-daemonic invasion.

He increased his pace, and in the distance noted the pall of smoke, like that of some great signal flame. It didn't take a genius to guess that Kvatch had been attacked. He cursed inwardly-if he hadn't wasted those few hours sleeping, then perhaps he could have arrived in time to help...

He banished the thought from his head-if he hadn't slept then he wouldn't have been as prepared for a fight as he was now. And there was still a chance Martin was alive. It was a small one, but Alicarius had to find out for certain.

He switched to mind sight again, as soon as the city's massive walls came into view. Kvatch was built on a plateau, a veritable fortress with only a single path up to the entrance. Against a normal foe this would prove to be a bloody and dangerous method of attack, but Alicarius knew how daemons fought. He knew how they could simply materialise out of thin air, warping reality itself, and he as saw the city with his mind sight, he knew it had happened here-Kvatch was covered in a multicoloured, swirling corona of warp energy.

He increased his pace to steady trot, his boots thudding in the dust of the road. Then a canter, and finally a full blown sprint, a small cloud of dust being kicked up behind him. He marshalled his psychic powers, channelling his mind energy into his halberd and activating its force sheathe. He prayed the wards on his armour would still work, and murmured an old, familiar phrase.

“I am the hammer.”

He arrived at the base of the road to the city.

“I am the shield that guards His people.”

A panicked elf dashed past him as he headed upwards.

“I am the sword that smites His foes.”

He entered what seemed to be a hastily erected camp, to be seen by dozens of desperate, tired eyes.

“It's the Grey Knight!” he heard someone call. “Thank the Nine, the Grey Knight has come!”

There was a ragged cheer from the refugee camp, and Alicarius suddenly found himself surrounded by a small crowd and bombarded by questions.

“When is the rest of the legion going to arrive?”

“Can you look for my wife, Saske?”

“Are you the only one coming?”

“What are you going to do?”

“Silence!” Alicarius suddenly shouted, causing the crowd to step back. He could see these people were desperate, and needed some kind of saviour. No doubt they had already given that duty to him. “I need to know what happened here.”

“It was the daedra,” a man answered. “They appeared in a great portal, a whole army of them. They had a huge machine, a giant walking battering ram, and it just tore down the walls. Some of us managed to escape, but I don't know about the others-I think they're all dead. Captain Matilas is up the road-he organised the defences, and got us out of here. I think that we're all that's left.”

“There's still hope,” Alicarius replied, sounding far more certain than he felt. He could hardly see it himself, but he had to keep these people calm. The last thing he needed was panicked civilians. “I'm looking for a priest named Martin. Is he here?”

No-one stepped forward, and the someone levelled an accusation.

“What about my son?” a Nord woman asked. “Why aren't you looking for him?”

“What about Saske?”

“What about my husband?”

“My daughter?”

“My father?”

“QUIET!” Alicarius roared, amplifying his voice through his helmet's vox-casters. The crowd fell back again, frightened of incurring the giant's wrath. “I will look for your relatives, rescue whoever I can, but finding Martin is of utmost importance. He is our only chance of stopping more attacks on other cities.”

The Imperial who had become the group's spokesman stepped forwards again.

“If you want to find Martin then speak to Savlian Matilas,” he said. “He's at the barricades up the road, keeping the daedra at bay. He'll know what to do.”

The group parted to let him through. Alicarius saw the hope in their eyes, and suddenly felt the weight of duty on his shoulders. They were relying on him, both as an astarte and as a legionnaire, to protect them and eliminate the daedra. He could not, would not, let them down.

At the top of the hill, Alicarius noticed several spike barricades, made of wood. Behind them, about half a dozen men, some armed with bows, others with swords and shields, were waiting. One noticed him and ran over.

“What's your business here?” he asked. “You been sent by the Legion?”

“In a way,” Alicarius replied. “I'm need to speak to Captain Matilas.”

“You already are,” the soldier replied. “What do you want.”

“I need to find the priest, Martin,” Alicarius said. “I was told you could help.”

“I didn't see Martin when we escaped,” Captain Matilas replied. “He must still be inside the city. Your guess is as good as mine as to whether or not he's alive.”

“Then we need to get in there as soon as possible,” Alicarius replied. He was surprised to see Savlian give a sarcastic laugh.

“Have you seen that thing? We can't get in until that goes,” he said, pointing towards a massive, swirling, firy eye in front of the gate. Alicarius recognised it as a warp portal in an instant. “There's no way we can stop it from here. Someone has to go in there and close it, and I don't fancy my chances of being able to do it.”

“I will,” Alicarius said. “I know how to fight daedra.”

Alicarius was given an appraising look by Captain Matilas.

“You might just manage it,” he said. “But if you go in there, it's your funeral.”

Alicarius nodded. He vaulted over one of the barricades in a single massive leap, his impact cracking some of the dried and weakened stones on the other side. He activated his halberd, lightning crackling along its blade.

Alone he went, his armour illuminated by the harsh light of the warp portal.

Alone he went, into the eye of Oblivion.

This post has been edited by The Bean: Jan 18 2009, 06:01 PM

[Colonel Mustard]

Part 13-Oblivion

Blindingly bright flame consumed Alicarius as he stepped through, a warp fuelled inferno of cold heat that enveloped him. He felt the sensation of shifting as he was transported from one plane of reality to another, and then he was through, and into the hellish realm of Mehrunes Dagon.

Alicarius had a moment of deja vu that he couldn't quite place, before remembering that this was similar to the place he had left almost a month ago, when he had first arrived on Nirn. So here he was, back again.

He surveyed the situation-he was on a rocky island in a great lake of lava. Massive stone blocks were toppled on the cracked, red soil, while a huge pair of gates sealed off one way forwards. In the distance, or perhaps just obscured by a red haze-in the warp it was impossible to tell these things for certain-were great towers, spiked and jagged. Alicarius extended his mind sight once again, and saw that a massive corona of warp energy enveloped the top of the tallest tower, most likely the source of power that was holding the portal open. He was under no illusions that he would have to fight his way through a small army of daedra to get there.

He made his way through the cracked and ravaged landscape for a short while before being attacked by some kind of strange goblin, long limbed, lanky and with large, pointed, ears, similar to the Gretchin xenos that usually accompanied Ork tribes, forming a rowdy, cunning and vicious servant class for the Orks.

However, any thoughts that Alicarius had entertained about it being some kind of Ork's genetic offshoot were shattered when it sent a ball of fire at him.

His armour's wards simply dissipated the creature’s attack, and Alicarius grabbed it's spindly neck, ignoring its hisses of anger and fear, and snapped it, before casting the corpse on the ground. He'd done a small amount of reading on daedra, and recognised it as a Scamp, one of the weakest daedric creatures around-hardly a challenge for a Grey Knight.

He continued the hellish land, occasionally accosted by a few scamps and clannfears but nothing worse. He didn't drop his guard, however. No doubt there would be worse things waiting in the tower.

He was correct. At the base of the massive tower, in front of a doorway almost twice his size, he encountered a daedra unlike any other he had seen before. It was tall enough to match his height, with a torso that rippled with muscle. Four arms held drawn swords, the point of each blade facing Alicarius.

A xivali, one of the most powerful daedra in existence.

No challenge was given, but Alicarius and the daedra both stepped forwards, the angel and the daemon ready duel in front of the gates of hell.

Without a word, they both charged, Alicarius holding his halberd ready to swing like a massive executioner's axe, the xivali's blades whirling into action. Alicarius' halberd flew through the air with the force of a meteorite, only to have its path blocked by four blades. Normally, the halberd's electrical field would have cut through the swords like butter, but whatever unholy enchantments had been woven into the weapons on their creation held firm, roiling and twisting against the holy power of Alicarius' own weapon.

The xivali sprang back with the agility of an acrobat, then countered, its blades a whirling storm of daemonically forged steel. Alicarius attempted to parry the weapons with his halberd, and though two of the daedra's blades fell upon it, the other two scythed towards the waistline of his armour, where the seals required for movement left him open and vulnerable.

Thanks to some miracle of fate, neither of them pierced the power armour encasing Alicarius, and he responded by jerking his halberd past the xivali's own weapons, and into the creature’s chest. Roaring the Litany of Banishment, he channelled a portion of his psychic might into the daemon, blasting the creature's own essence into nothing.

He stayed there for a few moments, panting with the exhaustion of using his psychic power in such a great amount. He knew that he would have to adopt a different tactic when fighting xivali-fighting four perfectly coordinated arms using his usual method of duelling would be impractical. He would simply have to remain out of reach and destroy it with his psychic powers.

He pushed open the door of the tower, to be greeted with the sight of a trio of dremora. The creatures drew their weapons and charged, but Alicarius simply decapitated the first with a slice from his halberd, bisected the second with the return swing and delivered a powerful punch the face of the third. The creature toppled back, roaring with hate and pain, but Alicarius stamped down on its head viciously, silencing its cries.

He shook his head in mock despair. After his duel with the xivali, he was hardly challenged by a trio of dremora.

He made his way up the tower, dealing with the guards, who all seemed to be scamps and dremora, before reaching the top.

It was at the top where things got interesting. It was guarded by a small army-half a dozen dremora, three spider daedra and a daedroth. But Alicarius also saw his objective-a spherical stone, pulsing with power and strength. But he had one hell of a fight on his hands before he got to it.

The creatures charged almost as one, the spider daedra stopping only momentarily to summon a spiderling servant. The dremora reached him first, and though Alicairus managed to spear the first of them on the end of his halberd, the other got past and piled on top of him, hammering at him with their weapons and causing him to stagger.

Instinctively, he grabbed out with one of his hands and succeeded in wrenching one of the daedra off him, but dropped it as he felt a blade slide into a weak point in his power armour.

With a hiss of pain, he stumbled, crushing the dremora he had dropped underfoot, and even as his armour pumped painkillers into his bloodstream, he grabbed another daedra and threw it at one of the spider daedra with enough force to shatter both creature's spines.

Four down, six to go.

The other dremora leapt off Alicarius, realising their strategy wasn't working, and retreated among the other daedra, surrounding Alicarius. He backed away slightly, keeping his back to a wall.

A blast of poison from on the spider daedra was sent towards him. Though the magical assault was deflected by his armour, the impact was enough to put him off balance, and one of the daedroth charged in, slamming him into the ground. He rolled with the impact, dropping his weapon in the process, and ended up at the feet of one of the other crocodilian daemons.

Looking immensely self satisfied, the creature picked up Alicarius, who hung limp, still dazed from his sudden beating. It carelessly wrenched of his helmet, and Alicarius saw his adversary eye to eye. Then he realised that the daedroth had unwittingly exposed itself to one of the most cunning and deadly weapons in a space marine's arsenal. Alicarius aimed as best as he could from his precarious position, and spat.

Normally, the gesture would be one of futile defiance, but this was different. Using a complex chemical combination of digestive enzymes and chemicals released by the bletcher's gland, an astarte's spit could turn acidic on contact with air, forming an extremely useful and dangerous weapon when a space marine found himself in a situation such as this one.

The daedroth instinctively reared back in pain and shock, and dropped Alicarius to claw at its eyes, who immediately grabbed his halberd from its position on the ground. He raised it in time to spear another of the charging daedroth through the chest, causing it to lurch and slump. Wasting no time, Alicarius wrenched his weapon free, span and slammed his weapon into one of the dremora.

One of the more cunning spider daedra had snuck up behind him, and leapt upon his back, its weight causing him to stumble. The creature stuck its fangs into his neck, wrapping its legs around him and waiting for the poison's paralysis effect to sink in.

It didn't.

Another quirk of astartes biology was that they were immune to almost any kind of poison or disease, and within seconds, Alicarius' powerful metabolic system had gotten to work, neutralising the poison before it could freeze his muscles in place. He grabbed the daedra, tore it off its back and ripped its head from its body.

The remaining daedra, a daedroth, a spider daedra and a dremora faced him cautiously. They were most likely bound to guard the stone with their lives, but they had seen what had happened to their comrades and were rightfully wary of the Grey Knight.

They spread out so that, wherever Alicarius turned he wouldn't be able to see one of them-an intelligent plan, he considered. But then he decided to surprise the creatures.

He picked his target-the remaining dremora, and charged forwards, grabbing the shell shocked daedra by its throat and smashing it against the wall in a spray of gore. He immediately turned, using his momentum to bounce himself off of the wall and into the spider daedra, crushing it beneath his weight. Only the daedroth was left.

The creature snarled viciously, tensing its muscles in a futile attempt to look intimidating. Alicarius faced it, halberd ready, then charged.

The daedroth's life ended on the point of his weapon.

Bloodied and bruised, but nonetheless victorious, Alicarius retrieved his helmet from the floor, and slid it onto his armour. Fortunately, damage limitation protocols had automatically started after the pressure the daedroth had exerted on the neck seals had become too great, so the only damage was some minor denting thanks to creature's claws.

He trudged up a ramp, which he noted with some distaste was made of muscle and gristle, to the stone's mount. It was suspended in midair above a ring of brass, and for a moment, Alicarius wondered how to remove it. Cautiously, he reached out to touch it, and apart from a small shock of warp energy, which recharged his depleted stores, nothing happened. He opted to simply grab it, and then see if that worked.

He did so. For a moment, nothing happened, before the floor below him began to glow with light. He smelt meat being cooked, presumably that of the floor, before flames burst upwards from it, consuming Alicarius.

Fire swathed him, and he roared in pain as it surrounded him in cold, cleansing heat.

Then he was back in front of Kvatch's gates.

The surprised eyes of Savlian Matilas and his men regarded him in his battered and bloodied state from the other side of the barricades, awe apparent on their features. Using his halberd as a support, Alicarius stood straight.

“The daedra can be defeated!” he shouted to them. “Now come-we have a city to avenge!”

[Colonel Mustard]

Part 14-Martin

The gates of Kvatch were in ruins, torn asunder by the force of the unholy siege engine the daedra had employed. Now the city burned in the rain, fires spitting and guttering in the sudden downpour.

Alicarius, Savlian Matilas and his men entered the city, weapons drawn, unsure of what they would find. What they did find in the city's main courtyard was a small mob of clannfears, tearing at the corpse of one of Kvatch's citizens. Three were killed by the soldier's bows, the rest slaughtered by the swords of the others.

The massive church seemed relatively intact-aside from the spire breaking off and blocking direct access to the castle beneath a pile of rubble.

“We'll have to go through the chapel,” Savlian said. “Place is probably full of daedra, so be careful. Alicarius, if you could deal with the door.”

Alicarius stepped a few paces away from the chapel door, pointed one of his pauldrons towards it, and charged.

The wood shattered beneath the ceramite's impact, causing Alicarius to stumble momentarily as he entered, before he regained his balance, grabbed his halberd from its strap on his back and bought it to bear in a single, swift movement.

The last thing he expected to see was a group of tired, dirty citizens stare at him from the shadows of the church, fear evident in their eyes. A redguard woman, dressed in the uniform of one of Kvatch's soldiers limped forward. Her uniform was slashed and bloody, and Alicarius could see a deep gash along the thigh of her bad leg.

“Who are you?” she asked, drawing her sword.

Alicarius raised his hands in a gesture of peace, returning his halberd to its holster.

“My name is Alicarius Justinian, captain of the Chorrol garrison,” he said. “I've come to help.”

“Thank the Nine,” the redguard murmured, slumping with relief and exhaustion.

“Captain Matilas!” Alicarius called outside. “I've found survivors!”

“The captain's alive?” the redguard asked.

“He's alive,” Alicarius replied, as the soldiers hurried in. “And half of the garrison too, it seems.”

The few survivors in the chapel gave a ragged, exhausted cheer.

“We need to get these people out of here, captain,” Alicarius said to Savlian, who nodded.

“What about the daedra?” the redguard asked. “I had to barricade the door against them-they're still out there.”

Alicarius saw that one of the chapel doors was blocked with a hasty barrier of furniture and rubble.

“That's all that's holding them off,” the redguard said. “We can't get people out before we clear them out.”

Alicarius nodded.

“Get a moment's rest before we go,” he said to the men. “After that we drive them out for good.”

While the other soldiers took a breather, Alicarius immediately took to searching.

“Is there anyone here called Martin?” he asked a young wood elf. “A priest?”

“Martin?” the wood elf said. “He's here all right. He saved us all-got us to the chapel and then helped barricade the door against the daedra. Without him I think most of us would be dead.”

The elf pointed to a figure slumped against the chapel's altar, snoring quietly.

“Martin?” Alicarius called softly as he approached him. He bent and shook the figure, a young man dressed in a priest's robes, who awoke with a jump. “Are you Martin?”

“I am,” the priest replied, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “What do you want?”

He was in bad shape-a livid purple bruise had formed across his forehead, and there was a bandage made of a shirt sleeve wrapped around one of his arms. Looking at him, Alicarius could see a definite resemblance to the Emperor in the young man's features, the same wide nose and heavy brow.

“I need to speak to about something of the utmost importance,” Alicarius said, crouching down. “It concerns this attack, and the Emperor.”

“What about him?” Martin asked.

“I'll be blunt, Martin, and this will come as a shock,” Alicarius said. “You are the Emperor's son-the only surviving member of the Septim bloodline.”

For a moment, Martin was silent, before shaking his head.

“No,” he said eventually. “That's impossible. My father was a farmer-I only became a priest because he wanted me to be well learned.”

“Martin, that isn't true,” Alicarius said. “I'm afraid that the daedra attacked because you were here. Only someone with Septim blood can light the dragonfires at the Imperial City and seal them away from the material world-that's why they want you dead.”

“Is this a joke?” Martin asked suddenly.

Alicarius shook his head.

“Do you really thank that I would come all this way, and fight my way through an army of Daedra, just to mock you?” he asked. “Do I really look like that sort of person?”

“I suppose not,” Martin said. “But are you saying that this attack was my fault? That all those people have died because of me?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Alicarius said. “The daedra want to kill you, Martin, and they'll stop at nothing to do so.”

“So why are you here?” Martin said. “How do you know this?”

“A monk called Jauffre sent me,” Alicarius said. “He told me all about this.”

“Jauffre?” Martin said. “He's visited occasionally. He's important in the church-he keeps records of what's happened in his absence and does administration.”

“He told me he was in the Blades, and that he was told to keep an eye on you and protect you,” Alicarius said. “We need to get you back to Weynon Priory as soon as we've dealt with the daedra.”

Their conversation was cut short by Savlian shouting “Alicarius!”

“What is it?” Alicarius asked, standing and facing the captain.

“We're going to counterattack,” he said. “We'll take back the castle and the town.”

Alicarius nodded, and strode up the captain.

“I'll deal with the barricade,” he said. “Step aside.”

With a grunt of effort, he grabbed one of the pews that blocked the doorway and tossed it aside. A heavy stone was next-he pushed it out of the way with ease. Within minutes, he had shifted the blockade aside, and, halberd drawn, opened the door.

“Alright,” he said, turning to the others for a moment. “This is the final push.”

And that was when the daedroth thundered in, right on top of him.

[Colonel Mustard]

Alright, the next part is up. As always criticism and comments are appreciated.

Part 15-Liberation

The daedroth's massive jaws snapped over Alicarius's helmet, the creature roaring with rage and hate. It's claws reached for Alicarius, intent on tearing him to shreds, but he instinctively flailed out and, through a stroke of good fortune, succeeding in grabbing the creature's wrists.

For a minute or so, they wrestled, Alicarius attempting to snap the daedroth's wrists, the daedroth trying to crush his helmet and skull. Then, risking everything, Alicarius raised one of his feet and kicked out, sending the daedroth staggering.

Alicarius stumbled for moment as he tried to regain his balance, then readied himself as the daedroth charged again. Alicarius held his palms up and grabbed the tip creature's monstrous jaws, the impact driving him back several steps and through the stone barrier that led to the stairs down to the undercroft.

He landed with a grunt of pain and in a shower of masonary dust, his hands still firmly clamped on the daedroth's jaws. It's claws scrabbled for purchase, and it grabbed his own wrists, trying to force them away. Alicarius ignored them, and diverted more power to the elbow joints of him armour-he would need every ounce of strength for what he did next.

He began to push, slowly but surely opening the daedroth's jaws wider and wider. It began to roar in pain as its mouth was pushed open, losing its grip on Alicarius' wrists and flailing its arms wildly in panic. There was a sickening grinding noise, then a crack, as the creature's jaws finally broke under the pressure.

Alicarius pushed the massive corpse of him, its mouth moving at unnatural angles, took a moment to gather his breath and then climbed up the stairs to retrieve his halberd, which had been knocked aside in the daedroth's initial attack. He noticed the awestruck expressions on the faces of the other-no doubt there would be rumours spreading of him killing a daedroth with his bare hands within hours.

“I say again, this is the final push,” he joked as he went through the shattered doorframe. The square outside was empty, the slumped wreckage of a few houses sitting forlornly to one side. The small group of soldiers advanced cautiously through the centre, weapons drawn, eyes scanning the shadows for any aggressors. There was nothing moving, except for a ruined fountain dribbling a pathetic spurt of water into a shattered basin.

“All clear,” Savlian murmured.

They rounded a corner, and saw a group of daedra-a few dremora and clannfears. The bestial daedra hissed in rage and darted forwards with surprising speed. One of them took an arrow to it's crest, the sudden shock snapping its neck, but the other two leapt on a soldier, their momentum bowling the unfortunate man over. Though another soldier cut the creatures down, he was too late-his comrade had had his throat torn out by the vicious daedra.

The dremora charged a moment later, but their attack met a hastily erected wall of shields, and the daedra simply knocked the wind out of themselves on their impact. Savlian lashed out with his sword a moment later, burying the weapon in the skull of one of the dremora, while Alicarius slashed at the other one, his halberd shearing through the unholy creature's flesh.

The group rounded another corner, and there before them stood their final objective-Castle Kvatch.

Kvatch's castle was an imposing structure, a fortress built to withstand the most powerful siege engines in existence. Whatever weapons the daedra had employed had obviously been too strong even for the mighty bastion to withstand-the stone gatehouse had been utterly pulverised by what seemed to be a focused whirlwind. Corpses and masonry were strewn across the courtyard, but judging by the daedric ones liberally scattered amongst them, the defenders had put up a fierce resistance.

The group of soldiers advanced cautiously over the bridge to the castle, stepping over corpses and avoiding any gaps in the stonework.

“It's too quiet,” Savlian murmured to Alicarius. “I don't like it-probably a trap.”

“I know,” Alicarius replied. “Let me go first. I doubt the daedra expected a space marine.”

Savlian nodded, and stepped aside to let Alicarius take the lead.

When they reached the gatehouse it was still quiet, without a daedra in sight. Alicarius took the lead through the shattered ruin that was once the castle's main defence, halberd at the ready.

That was when a salvo fireballs hit him square in the chest.

Almost a dozen dremora emerged from the shadows, weapons drawn and ready to strike. Alicarius staggered from the sudden impact, once again thanking the wards and sigils upon his armour and the protection they bestowed, before regaining his balance and countercharging. His attack obviously took the dremora by surprise, and he bowled one over with his momentum, snapping its bones. He span, sending his halberd shearing through another dremora, before he completed his pirouette and landed a punch right into the face of another daedra.

Another charged towards him, but he raised his hand and sent a blast of psychically powered lightning towards it, causing it to spasm and jerk like a doll being shaken by a petulant child.

Savlian and his men had charged through the ruins of the gatehouse to deal with the daedra, their weapons clashing with those of the dremora. From the castle, a xivali charged through the castle's doors, its swords a whirlwind of steel. It reached one of the men and with the skill of a master, blocked one of his sword swings and stabbed its own blades into the joints of the man's armour, causing him to slump down, blood pouring from his wounds.

Alicarius thundered forwards to counter the daedra, sending another blast of lighting towards it, but the creature dodged. It attempted to block his charge, but its evasion had been its undoing-before it could regain its balance fully and bring its weapons to bear, Alicarius' halberd had bisected it.

For a few more moments, the furious combat continued, before the soldiers and Alicarius overpowered the daedric forces. Yet they had taken heavy casualties-almost half of the soldiers had been killed by the daedra, their armour pierced by blades or crushed by maces.

Without a word, they continued into the castle, faces grim and eyes narrowed. The first room they came to was empty, but the second held a mob of scamps feasting on a corpse. Despite the volley of fireballs they fired off, they were killed in less than a minute. So they went, clearing rooms and slaughtering any daedra they came across.

In one room, corpses of what seemed to be servants had been strung up, their blood dripping down onto the floor. The charnel stink of the gore caused more than one soldier to vomit on the floor. In another, unholy symbols had been daubed on the walls, symbols which hurt to look at. Alicarius burned them away from the wall with blasts of psychic flame, and the group hurried on unwilling to stay in such a place.

Finally, they reached the count's chambers. Here, it seemed the fighting had been fiercest-corpses, of both humans and daedra, were strewn across the floor, furniture was shattered or upturned and blood slicked the floor.

“The count should be up ahead,” Savlian said. “I just hope he's still alive.”

Alicarius nodded, but he could hear the doubt in Savlian's voice-after seeing the charnel house that the castle had become, it was unlikely that there was anything left alive there at all, apart from their own group.

“I'll go first,” Savlian said. “It's my duty.”

He pushed open the door, then gave a moan of despair.

“He's dead,” he groaned. “He's dead! I failed him!”

Savlian gave a yell of frustration, then viciously kicked an upturned chest of drawers, before slumping against them in despair. Alicarius entered the room, and laid a gentle hand on the captain's shoulder.

“Captain Matilas,” he said. “Savlian. You haven't failed.”

“What are you talking about?” Savlian asked. “It was my duty to ensure the safety of the count-and now he's dead.”

“Your duty as captain was to protect the people of Kvatch,” Alicarius said. “I took an oath like yours-I swore to protect Chorrol and her people. Without you, I doubt that anyone in the camp below would have survived the attack. You fought through the daedra, a feat beyond most warriors, to get them to safety. You should be proud of that, captain. I don't doubt that the count would be proud of what you did.”

Savlian looked doubtful for a moment, before nodding reluctantly.

“You're right,” he said eventually. “I suppose I couldn't have done both.”

He suddenly crouched down by the count's body, and slid something off of his fingers.

“This is the count's signet ring,” he said. “A symbol of leadership passed down through the generations from Antus Pinder himself. It is supposed to be passed to whoever was most willing to place his own life in danger for the sake of Kvatch, and after the last few hours, you've more than earned that honour.”

Alicarius accepted the ring, and slip off his gauntlet, sliding the ring on underneath.

“I shall cherish it,” he said. “It is an honour. Is there anything else I can do here?”

Savlian shook his head.

“I overheard your conversation with Martin,” he said. “If he can stop more disasters such as this one, then fetch him and get him to safety. I won't hold you up here.”

He held out his fist, and Alicarius clasped it in the traditional warrior's handshake.

“Go with the blessing of the Nine,” Savlian said.

Alicarius turned to leave.

“Best of luck, captain,” Savlian called out behind him. “We'll all need it from now.”

[Tellie]

Excellent story. I'm a huge fan of warhammer myself (collected for almost 11 years now), and I must say that you have given a very reasonable excuse as to how Alicarius entered Nirn.

I'm working on a 40k crossover myself, though it does not have anything to do with Elder Scrolls, so it has been posted at my Fanfiction.Net account instead.

I'm very much looking froward to your next update. Good luck in your writings.

[Colonel Mustard]

Thank you very much Tellie, and I'm glad you enjoyed it. Working the 40K/elder scrolls universes together was difficult, and needed a little planning like all decent crossover works do, but I think I've got it sorted with what I have in mind.

And PM me a link to your own 40k story when you put it up. I'd love to read it.

[Colonel Mustard]

And the next part.

Chapter 16-Cloud Ruler Temple

By the time Alicarius and his comrades had fought their way through the town, the survivors at the chapel had gone to the camp below Kvatch. Most of them had searched among them to find friends or relatives, and more than one person was weeping as they realised that they had no chance of finding a loved one.

Martin was waiting at the edge of the camp, trying to comfort a distraught woman who was finally coming to terms with the fact that she would never see her family again. Alicarius waited at a respectful distance until the weeping woman left, before finally approaching the Emperor's son.

“Are you ready to go?” Alicarius asked.

Martin nodded.

“What we do after we reach Weynon Priory?” he asked.

“I'm not sure,” Alicarius said. “I heard a stronghold called Cloud Ruler Temple mentioned-most likely we'll head there. Or we'll go straight to the Imperial City to get the dragonfires lit, and for your coronation.”

“My coronation?” Martin asked.

“Well, you are the Emperor's only heir,” Alicarius pointed out. “You'll be expected to rule.”

Martin looked thoughtful for a moment, before nodding.

“We'd best get going then,” he said.

#

Alicarius and Martin travelled cautiously, travelling across country and camping out in old ruins. Alicarius had never expected to be travelling long distances in the wilds of Cyrodiil after the Emperor's assassination, and as such had never packed any equipment needed for camping. Fortunately, an encounter with a group of bandits quickly remedied that problem.

After two days of travelling, Alicarius and Martin reached Weynon priory. The gash on Martin's arm had healed after Alicarius had injected it with one of the healing boosters contained in his armour's auto-injector, though naturally the time spent hiking through the forests, combined with the battle in Kvatch, had exhausted him.

And being exhausted was never a good state to be in when you encountered the Mythic Dawn.

Weynon Priory had been badly damaged, several of its windows had been smashed and the front doors had been broken down. One of the monks lying was on the ground, a puddle of blood surrounding his corpse. Beside him, a portly dark elf was on his knees, staring blankly into space.

Alicarius knew the mer was suffering from shock, but he needed information on what had just happened. He grabbed the elf's shoulder and shook it forcibly.

“What happened here?” he asked.

For a moment the elf didn't respond, then seemed to shake himself awake.

“There was a group of pilgrims,” he said eventually. “I was doing the gardening at the time, and I saw them talk to Brother Frederick, there.” He pointed at the corpse. “They began to argue, then they got weapons, just out of nowhere it seemed, and then...then they...”

He trailed of, unable to continue.

“Where's Jauffre?” Alicarius asked him.

The elf said nothing, but just pointed to a small chapel, separate from the rest of the priory.

Alicarius, closely followed by Martin, hurried in, to see quite an amazing sight. Jauffre, still attired in his monks robes, was wielding a massive dai-katana and dueling with a trio of Mythic Dawn cultists. Normally, the contest of an elderly monk against three armed warriors would be hopelessly one sided, but Jauffre fought with the skill of a master with decades of experience, his weapon a blur of steel as it parried and countered the cultist's attacks.

Alicarius grabbed one of the attackers by the scruff of his armour's neck, swung him away and pinned him against the wall in one swift movement, before finishing the man's life with a vicious punch to the face. Jauffre managed to bury his katana in the neck of another cultist who was distracted by his comrade's mysterious disappearance, before bought his weapon to bear to block the attack of the third cultist. Another quick slice and the man toppled back, a hole slashed in his armour.

Jauffre didn't bother greeting them, but cut straight to the chase.

“The amulet,” he said. “That's what they were here for. We need to see if it's still safe.”

They hurried out of the chapel, and to the priory's main building, through the ruins of the door. Up the stairs, and then to what looked like an old wardrobe, with the door and the back kicked open. Behind it was what was obviously a concealed room, a few chests and a desk containing what looked like reports.

Jauffre hurried to the desk, and searched through it, opening all the cupboards, before stepping back and slumping against it.

“The Amulet of Kings is gone,” he said, before suddenly seeming to notice Martin for the first time. “I see you got Martin out safely. That's a relief.”

“What do we do now then?” Alicarius asked.

“We need to find the amulet,” Jauffre said. “But first we need to get Martin to safety. And I know just the place.”

“Cloud Ruler Temple?” Alicarius asked, causing Jauffre to blink in surprise. “I heard the Emperor's bodyguards mention it, they said it was a safe place. I must say, the amount I've heard about, I wouldn't mind going there myself just to see if it lives up to its reputation.”

#

They stayed at Weynon Priory only long enough for Jauffre to pack a few things before leaving. They travelled quickly and quietly, Alicarius guarding any inns that Jauffre and Martin stayed in out of sight, his massive build and unique armour too noticeable for them to allow any real secrecy. But eventually, they arrived at the town of Bruma, under Jauffre's guidance.

“We're nearly there,” he said as they reached the town's gates. “Cloud Ruler Temple is a few hundred metres up the hill to the North.”

They continued through the town, Alicarius' presence drawing a few stares, and one or two shouts of “It's the hero of Kvatch!” Fortunately, no-one seemed to recognise Martin, who had split away from Alicarius with Jauffre when they realised his presence was going to attract undue attention.

Alicarius spent a few minutes fending off questions from various bystanders, making his steady way through the snowbound town. Eventually he managed to see off those who wanted to know more about what happened at Kvatch, and saw the distant shape of what could be a castle on top a hill.

He carried on walking, ignoring the biting, crisp cold, and rounded a corner to see Jauffre and Martin waiting for him.

“Sorry I took so long,” he said apolagetically. “I was almost mobbed by people wanting to know what had happened in Kvatch.”

Martin just rolled his eyes.

“You can't travel inconspicuously, can you?” he asked.

“My size won't help me blend in,” Alicarius said. “But it's saved my life more than once.”

As they rounded another corner, Alicarius finally saw Cloud Ruler up close. It was impressive, a fortress in every sense of the word. Ancient stones the size of a man made up the massive walls, and Alicarius could sense enchantments of strengthening and fortification within each one. Two watch towers were mounted over the gatehouse, each one containing a massive ballista. Alicarius thought that even the Daedric army would have trouble breaching this massive castle. And if it was the headquarters of the Blades, then each warrior within would most likely be able to outfight just about anyone.

A man keeping watch on the gatehouse saw them coming, and shouted down into the courtyard “Jauffre's coming. Get the gates open.”

The massive wooden gates, banded with strips of thick steel, rumbled open, to find a trio of Blades waiting for them, one of them Alicarius recognised as Baurus. The other was a man wearing an outlandish conical hat and a set of armour made up of small rectangles of metal, and sharp features Alicarius had not seen in before Cyrodiil. On the other side of Baurus stood a blonde haired Imperial who looked rather ragged and tired-it was easy to see he was a regular heavy drinker.

“We're glad you finally arrived,” Baurus said. “We heard what had happened in Kvatch and we feared the worst.”

“Don't worry yourself,” Jauffre said. “Martin is safe and well, though unfortunately the Mythic Dawn managed to steal the amulet. But I can't say I expected to see you, Caius.”

“I came as soon as I heard the Emperor had been killed,” the Imperial called Caius said. “Nine-Toes has done a fine job of covering for me in the past, and I thought my presence might be wanted.”

Alicarius noticed a hint of bitterness in the man's voice-perhaps something like this had happened before.

“And Quan, this is an unexpected pleasure,” Jauffre said. The man called Quan simply bowed.

Baurus led them up a set of steps, then another, before they finally reached the courtyard, where a hastily assembled honour guard, made up of two lines of Blades, stood. There was some nudging and whispering as Martin came into view-no doubt the Blades now knew of the lost heir.

“Perhaps a few words would be appropriate,” Jauffre murmured to him, as they made their way through the small aisle of soldiers.

Martin nodded, and stood on the threshold of the keep's doors. Jauffre stood to one side of him, Alicarius to the other.

“I'm not much of a speech maker,” Martin said. “But, I want to say thank you for the risks you have taken to get me to safety. The days ahead look like dark ones, but we will persevere nonetheless. Mehrunes Dagon and his armies have already levelled Kvatch, and he may attack other cities and destroy them, but we will not give up. We can defeat the daedra, and we will defeat the daedra. We have the Grey Knight, the Hero of Kvatch on our side, and with him fighting for us, we cannot be defeated. I will find the amulet, and I will seal away Mehrunes Dagon and his hordes for good!”

The assembled Blades drew their swords, and let out a great cry of; “Hail Martin Septim! Hail Emperor!”

They departed, no doubt to carry out whatever tasks they had been given, with the exception of Caius and Quan, who were ordered to stay by Jauffre.

“I want you two to keep Martin safe,” Jauffre said. “Don't let him out of your sight.”

“He'll be fine with us,” Captain Caius said. Quan just nodded-Alicarius guessed he was a man of few words.

Martin, escorted his two new guards, went inside, no doubt to get some rest.

“Alicarius,” Jauffre said. “I want to thank you for your efforts over the past week. Baurus told me of how you handled guarding the Emperor, and your deeds at Kvatch speak for themselves.”

“It was nothing,” Alicarius said, but a small, treacherous voice in the back of his head murmured “It was more than a hive of heretics deserves.”

“Ever the modest hero, aren't you?” Jauffre said. “That's good-the people love a hero who won't boast too loudly of his achievements. But that is beside the point. We've distracted you from your duties in Chorrol for long enough. I suggest you return there-able as Serrio is, he could probably do with some help. No doubt the next few weeks are going to be hard ones, and getting on top of all the work that will need to be done will be a nightmare.”

Alicarius nodded. He didn't bother guessing how Jauffre knew about his promotion-as the head of the Blades, it was, after all, his job to know these things.

“I'd best get going then,” Alicarius said.

[Colonel Mustard]

And some more. Enjoy y'all!

Part 17-Memory

“Where in hell's name have you been the past week?” Serrio asked as he saw Alicarius come into his office in Castle Chorrol's barracks. “I've had a hellish time coping without a superior to answer to. People seem to think that just because I'm your lieutenant half my orders aren't valid. The amount of pay cuts I've had to issue is ridiculous, and half of them have been disputed on the grounds of 'lack of proper authority!'”

“Sounds bad,” Alicarius said.

“Tell me about it,” Serrio muttered, before turning on him with; “Well, where have you been?”

“The Imperial City, then Kvatch, then Weynon Priory, then Cloud Ruler Temple,” Alicarius said. “Don't ask.”

“Kvatch?” Serrio asked. “You were there? Is it actually true, the things that all happened there, with the daedra?”

Alicarius nodded.

“I was there,” he said. “Had to fight half the bastards myself.”

Serrio looked awestruck.

“So the 'hero of Kvatch' stuff I've been hearing is all true then?” he asked. “Did you really kill a daedroth with your bare hands?”

Alicarius nodded.

“Just don't get me to do it again-I'd much rather have my halberd to hand,” he said. “But haven't you heard about it fully?”

“There were a few reports, but nothing concrete,” Serrio said. “In fact, most of them were pretty poor.”

“It was bad stuff,” Alicarius said. “And to top it all, the Emperor is dead.”

Serrio leant back against his chair and exhaled deeply.

“Oh dear,” he said slowly. “So it is true.”

Alicarius nodded.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he said. “I was there at the time.”

“That's not going to be good at all,” Serrio said. “That'll mean one thing-panic. And the last thing we want is people panicking while there's an army of daedra running around. And of course, there are going to be a whole load of people in the other provinces who'll realise that now is an ideal time to invade and get control of the Empire for themselves.”

“Hold on a moment. Did you say you didn't have a superior to answer to?” Alicarius asked, remembering something Serrio had said when he had come in. “What happened to Commander Bittneld?”

“Bittneld?” Serrio said. “He's not a commander any more-he's officially retired and you're in charge now. You've got his quarters and I've got a week's back pay for you somewhere.”

“His quarters?” Alicarius asked.

“Of course he has quarters here,” Serrio said. “No more renting out a room at the Grey Mare for you, my friend. You've inherited his office too.”

Serrio suddenly sniffed.

“Before you do anything else though, get a bath,” he said. “You smell terrible.”

#

Thoroughly scrubbed and wearing a simple shirt, jerkin and pair of trousers, Alicarius entered Bittneld's old office to find Serrio waiting for him. He had an ominously large pile of papers in his hands.

“All the work we need to get done,” Serrio said. “Most of this just needs signing, but some of it's stuff that you need to fill out yourself.”

The work was mind numbingly dull, but, compared to the battle at Kvatch, blissfully relaxing. He talked with Serrio during the time they spent filling out forms, catching up with all the things that had been happening during the week. The most interesting thing in Serrio's one had been clearing out a nest of ogres, which wasn't, as he said, much in comparison to the glory Alicarius had been earning in Kvatch.

But finally, they were finished. Alicarius let Serrio head off to his own bed in his quarters, before heading upstairs to get some sleep himself.

Bittneld's room had been stripped of all furniture except for a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, a bedroll on the floor and a small desk. In a corner was a large box-Alicarius saw some of his clothes on the top. On the top of the table was a note addressed to him, written in Bittneld's cramped handwriting.

Alicarius

I've heard a few things about what happened in Kvatch, and if they are true then I congratulate you. However, this is just a farewell, unfortunately, and I doubt we shall meet again soon. I have retired to Anvil, and as such have taken a few things with me that, hopefully, you won't need, including the whiskey cabinet (as you have said to me, you don't drink), and the bed, which would be unable to support your weight. If you do wish to get one, I recommend speaking to Romilda Hervannis in Cheyindal-her furniture is excellently made, to order. Apart from that, the room here is yours to do with as you please. I wish you the best of luck in the pursuit of your duties, and give you my blessing for the future.

Yours,
Bittneld

Alicarius placed the note back on the table, then removed his shirt, revealing a chest that was heavily scarred and his black carapace-the organ that allowed him to mentally control his power armour. He lay down on the bedroll to get some sleep.

To find himself in a grassy savannah.

He looked around, suddenly confused. He had just gone to sleep in his new quarters, and now he was here. So something must have happened to take him here. So if he had gone to sleep, then this must be some kind of dream. But that was impossible-space marines didn't dream when in hypersleep. So, this obviously was of some importance.

“Legion!” he called out, guessing that the haughty daemon may have a hand in this strange event. However, there was no reply except for the grass rustling in the wind.

He discovered he was wearing nothing but a loincloth-even his black carapace was gone, however the surgery scars inflicted when it had been grafted on were still present. There was a vague familiarity about the situation, a strange sense of deja vu, but Alicarius couldn't place it-he had never fought in an environment like this one. The closest comparison he could make to it was the fight for the agri world of Golgis III, with its large fields of wheat and barley. He remembered being attacked by a field full of corn as one of the most bizarre experiences in his life, but Chaos' touch could extend to everything, be it organic or even machine.

So, he was in a completely unfamiliar environment, unarmed and armoured, and in a dream most likely sent by somebody hostile. If it wasn't Legion's doing, not that Alicarius would trust the daemon anyway, then who's was it?

The sound of fighting was suddenly carried to him by the wind, roars of rage and pain echoing across the savannah. Alicarius approached it cautiously, marshalling his psychic powers in preparation for a fight. Even if he was at the mercy of some daemon and this was a trap, then he would still go down fighting.

The noise intensified, and as Alicarius rounded a copse of trees he saw the source.

There were two figures, each with the build of an astarte, fighting furiously. One of them gleamed with a light bright enough to block out any details upon them, while the other was cloaked in a rolling cloud of darkness.

They wrestled with a relentless, fearless fury Alicarius had never seen before from anyone, man or astarte. Neither backed down as they attempted to floor the other one, punching, biting and kicking furiously in an attempt to defeat their opponent. But gradually, the one cloaked in darkness began to gain the upper hand as he floored his enemy with a slice to the ankle. Immediately, he fell upon the shining figure, his hands around his throat, the shadow around him flowing out to consume him. There was a brief struggle, then suddenly the darkness dissipated, leaving nothing.

Alicarius stayed where he was, waiting for something to happen, but after a full minute passed, nothing did. He was about to leave, and explore this world further, before something compelled him to turn around.

Behind him stood the dark figure. It nodded a greeting to him, and then the black clouds shrouding it retreated, revealing the mysterious figure fully.

It was him.

Wearing the same clothing as him, and sporting a wry grin, the shadow-Alicarius gave him a look that said 'I know you, my friend, and soon I'm going to get you.'

Alicarius gave a yell of; “No!” and punched out the shadow-Alicarius, who simply caught his fist in his hand. Alicarius felt his strength suddenly drain out of him, and he collapsed on weak knees.

Then behind a voice yelled out; “Begone! I command you to leave!”

Something like fear showed in the shadow-Alicarius' eyes and, releasing its grip on Alicarius' hands, it fled. Alicarius, feeling his strength return to him, stood and turned to see his saviour.

He was tall, taller than even Alicarius, and surrounded by an air of great, benign wisdom. Patrician features looked down upon him, eyes filled with great knowledge, calm and sadness in equal measures watched him.

“Who are you?” Alicarius asked, feeling awestruck by the aura of power that surrounded the new arrival.

“I have gone by many names,” the man said. “Some have called me Solomon, some have called me Moses, Caesar, Saladin, Gandhi or Churchill. Even here they have a name for me-they call me Talos. But you have always known me as The Emperor.”

Alicarius dropped to his knees, head bowed.

“My lord,” he said quietly. “It is...it is an honour.”

He felt a strong hand upon his shoulder, and a gentle grip forced him to rise.

“Do not kneel before me, my son,” The Emperor said. “I have never wanted a man to bow down to me before, and I shall not have it now.”

“But, my lord, what do you want with me?” Alicarius said, still keeping his head bowed. “What are you doing here?”

“To remind you,” The Emperor said. “Of what once was. You saw your shadow self fighting that bright figure. Who do you think that was?”

“Me again,” Alicarius said.

The Emperor nodded.

“That was you, Alicarius,” The Emperor said. “The shadow figure was the Rage, that even now you struggle to control. You will fight it, and I know you shall fight hard, but it will not be enough. Eventually, it shall overwhelm you, when it does, Nirn shall be doomed.”

“Nirn shall be doomed? Will that mean that I won't be able to fight Mehrunes Dagon?” Alicarius asked.

“Perhaps it will, perhaps it won't,” The Emperor said. “That's all a matter of timing. But you know how hard it is to kill a berserk space marine. The people of Nirn will stand no chance against you-you will hunt them down and kill them all.”

“But, my lord, Nirn is, in all honesty, a hive of heresy against you,” Alicarius said. “It is filled with mutants and heretics and xenos. Surely you cannot...”

“Ten thousands years entombed on the Golden Throne gives you a long time to think about these things, my son,” The Emperor said. “I regret many of the decisions I made during the Great Crusade. Even I am fallible, Alicarius-the Horus Heresy is proof of that.”

“But I must contact the Imperium,” Alicarius said. “How can I return otherwise?”

“You cannot contact it,” The Emperor said. “The reasons are...complex, but you cannot leave Nirn. So I am appointing you its guardian. I have watched it for some time, as a kind of...hobby of mine, and I have come to love and care for it.”

“So did you arrange for me to come here?” Alicarius said.

The Emperor shook his head.

“I knew nothing of your arrival until you were summoned by the Mythic Dawn,” he said. “That was the work of some other party, or perhaps just of fate. But now you are here, I charge you with this duty.”

Alicarius bowed. As much as it went against everything he had been taught, if he had been given the command by the ruler of the Imperium himself then he would obey.

“My lord, you said that Nirn would be doomed if the Rage defeated me,” he said. “Is there some way to stop this happening?”

The Emperor nodded.

“Watch,” he said, turning to where the shadow-Alicarius and the shining one had fought.

They appeared again, wrestling with the same fearless fury, but there was something different about it.

Whenever the shadow-Alicarius seemed to be getting the upper hand, a slight figure, armed with a simple wooden spear, would dart from nowhere and viciously jab him, causing him to fall back in pain. Alicarius watched the figure with fascination. He was a boy, no more than thirteen years of age, yet wiry and strong thanks to years of hard living. Alicarius immediately put him down as an inhabitant of a feral world-whenever the Grey Knights had recruited from them, the boys put forward had always had the same wiry frame thanks to the hunting they constantly did and the little food they received in bad seasons.

The fight continued for a little longer, but the shining Alicarius and the boy eventually knocked the shadow-Alicarius to the ground, permanently. The shining Alicarius grabbed the shadow-Alicarius and began to throttle him, the light shining from him expanding until it engulfed all three figures.

“Who was that boy there?” Alicarius said. He knew he had seen him before, but even as he racked his brains, he could not place him.

“Don't you recognise him?” The Emperor asked. “You of all people should-after all, he was you.”

Alicarius suddenly dropped to his knees.

“I...what...how?” he murmured impotently, as a rush of memories flooded back to him suddenly. His childhood on Caractis, the time he spent hunting prey with his clan brothers, the Inquisition's discovery of his psychic powers and his sudden, cruel wrenching away from his home. And the creature he had discovered, the creature that had forced him to first use his powers, the creature that had slaughtered half of the clan. He suddenly recognised this place as his former home-he had hunted on the great plains many, many times, stalking the wild grox that grazed on them for food.

All initiates into the Grey Knights had their memories of their pasts wiped away, and the sudden rediscovery of them was one of the most shocking experiences in Alicarius' life. For a full ten minutes, he stayed on his knees, mute, his mind sent reeling from the sudden revelation The Emperor had revealed.

The Emperor kneeled down next to Alicarius, and laid a gentle hand upon his shoulder.

“If you want to defeat the Rage for good, remember your past,” he said. “Remember that once you were like the humans you swore to protect. Only then can your mind be truly yours again.”

Alicarius nodded dumbly.

“You've done a damn fine job so far,” The Emperor said. “You can defeat Mehrunes Dagon. You will defeat Mehrunes Dagon.”

“I...I will,” Alicarius said, standing again. “I give you my word, my lord.”

“That is all I need,” The Emperor said. “Now go. There is much work to be done, and many hardships and dangers, but I you must be strong. You will overcome, my son. Now, wake up.”

And with that, Alicarius awoke to the darkness of his quarters, alone again.

[Colonel Mustard]

And some more!

Part 18-Bows

It was still early in the morning, his brain requiring only a few hours rest whilst in hypersleep, and so, after going through the routine of stretches he had been taught by his chapter, ones to prime his muscles for a day's training, Alicarius resolved to go for a short walk.

Alicarius usually went on these after he had woken up, and the sight of him quietly padding around the town in the small hours of the morning had become a fairly common one. He had apprehended more than one surprised thief who hadn't realised that he would be roaming around the town at that time. Today, however, he decided that he would take a look in the castle that was to become his home.

He headed through the doors of the barracks, past the desk sergeant’s empty desk, and into the courtyard, taking a deep breath of the fresh morning air. There was a small part of him that loved this time of the day, the time where it seemed that no-one in the world but him was awake.

His walk through the castle lasted for about an hour or so, him occasionally startling a sleepy guard, before he found himself at the bottom of the north tower. Once it had held a siege weapon, but recently it had been converted to house the carrier pigeons that had become the popular way to send messages around the Empire. He walked up the stairs, ignoring the cold of the stone upon his feet, and into the loft. A few pigeons gave a sleepy coo from their cages as he entered, but most carried on slumbering. One of the more inquisitive ones, the plate beneath its cage saying 'Carius-for the Imperial City' hopped off its perch to give Alicarius a closer inspection, but decided that he wasn't terribly interesting and settled back down to get some sleep.

Alicarius sat on the edge of the large window that allowed the pigeons entry and watched the sun rise over the tips of the trees. Over to the north, Alicarius could make out the vague shape of the Skyrim Mountains, and the vague shape of what could be a bird approaching.

He watched it for a little while longer, and as it drew closer, realised it was another messenger pigeon. As it got close, he held out his arm, a finger extended, and obediently the pigeon landed upon it.

“Good morning,” Alicarius said quietly to the bird, running a finger gently along the top of its head and its back. “Where have you come from then?”

He saw the small tube attached to the pigeon's leg and gently detached it, and noted that it was marked 'Alicarius Justinian.' He pocketed the message tube, and reached inside a sack, holding out a handful of seeds, which the bird pecked at gratefully. Alicarius opened an empty cage, one reserved for visiting pigeons, and placed the carrier bird within.

Heading back down the stairs, he wondered idly what the message was about, and when he reached the bottom, pulled out the wax seal, pulling out a thin slip of parchment.

He read the message, before sighing and placing it back in its tube. Yet another request that required him to be away from his duties in Chorrol. If this carried on he would have to give Serrio the job of commander just so he could all these things done.

He headed down to the armoury, and into the training hall. Usually it was bustling with activity-legionnaires brushing up on their sword or bow skills, but now it was empty. Looking for something to do, Alicarius took a longbow that was held on a rack and handful of arrows.

He stood down at the end of the archery range, and pulled back the string. He hadn't used a bow before, but with ammunition being such a problem there was no way he could use his storm bolter, and it looked fairly easy nonetheless. Sighting along the arrow, Alicarius took careful aim and then let the arrow loose. It landed with a heavy thunk in the straw target.

He took a look at the arrow's position on the third ring from the centre, not a bad shot considering that this was the first time he had used a bow, then nocked another arrow.

He practiced for a few hours, his arrows getting closer and closer to the centre, before he had the feeling he was being watched. He turned to see who it was, before recognising Karros, a grizzled old veteran. The old man was an expert with the longbow, though his age meant that he could no longer pull back the string.

“You used a bow before?” Karros asked through his bushy, iron grey beard.

Alicarius shook his head.

“Never have before,” he replied.

“Then I'm impressed, commander,” he said. “The bow's a difficult weapon to use, and you use it damn well.”

“My thanks,” Alicarius said. “I was wondering who that one belonged to. I wouldn't mind giving it a try myself.”

He pointed to massive bow, the size of a small man, hanging on the wall. Karros gave him an odd look of surprise, one that seemed to be asking Alicarius if he was mad.

“That bow belonged to Odjiss Greatbow,” he said.

“Odjiss Greatbow?” Alicarius asked. “There's no-one here under that name.”

Karros shook his head and laughed.

“Odjiss Greatbow was a nord who used to be in the garrison here,” he said. “Huge man-some said he had giant blood in him, and I wouldn't doubt that to be true. That was his bow, so huge and thick that only he could string it. I tried it myself, and I know a few tricks when it comes to stringing bows, but even I couldn't. We keep it in his memory now-and to teach any uppity young recruits about a lesson about a real bowmaster.”

Alicarius took the bow reverently down from the wall, inspecting it carefully.

“What happened to Odjiss then?” he asked conversationally, before walking over to a shelf where spare bowstrings were kept and picking the longest he could find.

“He was killed a few years ago by a minotaur chieftain,” Karros said. “Odjiss managed to wrestle it to the ground and kill it, but he died from his wounds afterwards-a great loss for the Legion, if you ask me. Don't tell me you're going to try to string it yourself?”

“Worth a try,”Alicarius replied. He had watched it being done dozens of times by other soldiers, and knew the theory well enough.

He wound the string around the top end of the bow and tied it-that part was easy enough, then carefully pushed the bow down, much to the amazement of Karros. With one arm keeping the bow bent, Alicarius crouched down, and wrapped the bowstring around the other end, before tying his second knot.

“In all my years, I never thought I'd see another man string Odjiss' bow,” Karros murmured in quiet awe as Alicarius stood. Alicarius just smiled.

“Do you still have its arrows?” he asked. “I wouldn't mind if I did a bit of practising with this.”

“He used javelins,” Karros said. “There weren't any arrows big enough for it.”

Alicarius took one of the shorter spears from a rack, nocked it against the string the best he could, and took aim.

The arrow hit the centre of the target so hard that it knocked it over.

Karros began to clap.

“That was the most amazing sight I've ever seen,” he said. “Keep that bow-I'm sure that Odjiss would be proud to let someone like you keep it.”

“It would be an honour,” Alicarius said.

“You make legends wherever you go, don't you?” Karros said. “I heard Serrio talk about the mess you made of those cultists, then the army of orcs, then all these Hero of Kvatch rumours and now this. Before long you're going to find yourself the hero of some bard's tales.”

“Can't say I'd mind that myself,” Alicarius said. “Now come on, let's get some breakfast.”

#

“So you really did manage to string Odjiss' bow?” Serrio asked, as he sat down next to Alicarius in Castle Chorrol's mess hall. “Or is that just a load of rubbish that's been spread around by some overexcited recruit.”

“It's true,” Alicarius said. “Just ask Karros. Or go and look at the target pinned to the wall by a spear.”

Karros was, at that moment, talking to a group of the legion's foresters who were soon to go on patrol. There were a few glances over in his direction during the conversation.

“Blimey,” Serrio murmured. “Any other adventures you've been getting up to while everyone else was asleep? Slain a few dragons, perhaps?”

Alicarius couldn't help but notice a note of bitterness in Serrio's voice. No doubt, the captain secretly resented Alicarius getting the promotion to commander, and the amount of fame he was earning so quickly.

“I got sent a message via pigeon this morning,” Alicarius said. He passed Serrio the slip of paper, and he read it.

“Emergency meeting needing representatives from all the provinces, eh?” he asked. “So you're going to be dragged off to the Imperial City to represent the Legion there? No doubt they just want to show off the Hero of Kvatch to all the other representatives there. A sort of 'mess with us and we'll set him on you,' sort of thing, probably.”

“Well, I was there when the Emperor was assassinated too,” Alicarius pointed out. “No doubt they'll want to know about that.”

“Well, I guess it'll be another week of disputed orders for me again,” Serrio said regretfully. “Still, if you've got a week before the meeting, can you at least sort it out so that I actually have your authority while you're gone-otherwise I'll probably have a full scale mutiny on my hands. I do not want a repeat of last week.”

“I'll get it sorted out as soon as possible,” Alicarius said. “I've got to say though, if I have to leave Chorrol many more times then I might as well put you in charge permanently and leave.”

Serrio shook his head.

“The Legion won't let you go too easily,” he said. “You're their golden boy, after all-the Hero of Kvatch, the stringer of Odjiss' bow, and all that. There's no way you're leaving any time soon.”

Alicarius sighed.

“Politics,” he muttered. “Leave me out of it.”

[Colonel Mustard]

And now for the promised celebrity appearance. I think you'll recognise who it is when you see them.

Part 19-Politics

A week later, and Alicarius had arrived at the Imperial city. His time in Chorrol had been more relaxed, with him mainly sending out orders to various patrols and sergeants, and to have them delegated down to someone with, supposedly, more time on their hands. The most dangerous thing that had happened that week was to track down someone who had stolen an old widow's diamonds-the culprit was now going to spend the next few years doing hard labour.

But now he was back at the city again, now just a traveller, as opposed to a bodyguard for the Emperor. He shifted the heavy backpack that he had on his shoulders again as he slowly walked along the great stone bridge that was the only way into the city, admiring the view. At the gate, he was greeted by a pair of guards, who promptly let him into the city. One of them had his arm in a sling, and was giving Alicarius an evil look, though Alicarius couldn't guess why.

Once through the gates, Alicarius took a leisurely walk through the city's wide boulevards and roads, before finally reaching White Gold Tower and the centre of the city.

There a pair of guards were waiting at the entrance. One of them saluted as he approached.

“Just through the doors and into the central chamber for the meeting, sir,” he said.

Alicarius went through the palace's main doors, to be greeted by a herald, who blinked in surprise when he saw Alicarius, who was beginning to find that reaction fairly annoying, before clearing his throat and announcing; “Commander Alicarius Justinian, on behalf of the Imperial Legion.”

Alicarius entered the central council chamber, a room no doubt designed to inspire awe into visitors. Massive stained glass windows cast bright sunlight onto a huge stone table, around which almost two dozen stone chairs were situated. Some were already filled with dignitaries from the provinces-Alicarius recognised a khajiit, a breton and an argonian and their sycopahnts, but most were empty. He noted the name plates around them, and looked for his own, marked “Alicarius Justinian-Imperial Legion.”

He took his seat, which he noted was larger and wider, no doubt to accommodate his size and weight, and waited, ignoring some of the furtive looks the others were giving him. No doubt they were trying not to gawp, but he couldn't blame them for trying to get a look at the famous Hero of Kvatch. Only the Elswyr and Black Marsh representatives seemed unfazed by his presence-they seemed to be more interested in having a staring match with eachother. Alicarius remembered there was an age old rivalry between the races, and no doubt the two envoys were doing their best not to start hurling insults at eachother over the table.

“Lord Fulk Silvertounge, on behalf of the nation of Skyrim,” the herald announced. A nord man, his hair iron grey, walked in, the furs he wore flapping as he did so. He drew a few glances from the other envoys, but most of them seemed to feign disinterest. Behind him walked a pair of grizzled guards, wearing thick iron and leather armour similar to the kind used by the Legion. Both of them carried claymores, and a quick glance with Alicarius' mind-sight revealed they were heavily enchanted.

Fulk took the seat nearest to Alicarius', his guards obediently standing behind him. He ignored the space marine altogether,and instead contented himself by giving the other diplomats a critical look over.

“Lord Karraz daag-Kazrab, on behalf of the nation of Orsimer,” the herald announced, prompting the appearance of a burly orc, looking uncomfortable in a finely made velvet shirt. Alicarius' experience of orcs had still lead him to fairly similar ideas about the ones that inhabited the rest of the galaxy-they were crude, loud and easily angered. Hardly creatures suited for the arena of politics.

Various other diplomats from the provinces entered over the next ten minutes-a willowy high elf woman, a tall and well muscled reguard man, a stocky wood elf. The only arrival that really interested him was the woman who arrived second to last.

“Lady Serene Sarethi of House Redoran, on behalf of Morrowind and the Nerevarine,” the herald announced.

Alicarius was surprised to see the Serene was no dark elf, as he had expected, but instead an Imperial, with, somewhat confusingly, a surname fairly common amongst dark elves. Alicarius guessed that she must have married a dark elf at sometime in her life. She had a striking appearance-good looking, in a fairly middle aged way, with jet black hair, and was thin, but Alicairus could see a ripcord of muscle beneath her arms. Obviously, she knew how to use the large katana hanging around her waist. She took a seat a few away from Alicarius, shifting her weapon to a more comfortable position and gave him an interested glance, but making nothing more of him.

The last to arrive was High Chancellor Ocato. A high elf, dressed in finely made red robes, Ocato had a presence that caused everyone to see him. Alicarius could see the gleam of true cunning in the mer's eyes-it was obvious he was a skilled politician. He sat down, laid his staff on the table, and began to speak.

“You all know why you're here,” Ocato began. “The Empire is in a situation it has never been in before-we have no emperor. I don't need to tell you how how dire the situation is. Kvatch has already come under attack from an army of daedra, causing great loss of life. I don't know why they attacked, but there could be another one upon any city, in any province.”

“The daedra were defeated though, were they not?” the nord called Fulk asked.

“They were defeated, yes, thanks to commander Justinian's efforts,” Ocato said. “But he cannot be everywhere, and before that the city was, effectively, utterly levelled.”

“Isn't this absolutely fascinating,” Alicarius heard a familiar voice murmur in his ear. He momentarily gave a start, before looking to see an all too familiar figure sitting in the chair next to him.

“Legion,” Alicarius murmured. “What are doing here, daemon?”

“Oh, do drop that silly 'vile fiend' thing will you,” Legion murmured despairingly. “We both know you despise me, but I do find it awfully rude. I'm sure that you would if you were in my shoes.”

Alicarius grunted.

“So has your mysterious master sent you?” Alicarius asked.

“Oh no,” Legion replied. “I'm simply here to enjoy the politics.”

“You enjoy politics?” Alicarius asked.

“Of course I do, I am, after all, a daemon of Tzeentch,” Legion replied. “There's nothing I enjoy more than a bit of scheming-even more fun than the Sunday Times' cryptic crossword.”

“What's a crossword and what's the Sunday Times?” Alicarius asked.

“A crossword's a word game,” Legion explained in his condescending fashion. “You have to guess words given to you by clues. And the Sunday Times is a news scroll, like the Black Horse Courier, published on ancient Terra. Some of the clues they give are quite a challenge, even for me.”

“So this meeting is to discuss what to do in the impeding crisis,” Ocato said, finishing his speech. “Perhaps Commander Justinian could give us some advice, as he was present during the battle of Kvatch.”

“Yes, yes,” Alicarius said as he stood, clearing his throat. “You want to know about the daedra then? And how to defeat them? Well, I'll be blunt-it's practically impossible.”

There was a worried murmur around the hall, until Ocato asked for quiet.

“I wasn't present at the initial attack on Kvatch, but I heard about what happened from the survivors. They said the daedra had a siege weapon like no other, some said it was like a walking battering ram. Whatever it was, it went through Kvatch like a hot knife through butter- I completely tore up the town's gates and those of the castle with ease. Hardly anyone escaped, in fact, that anyone did at all is a miracle.”

“May I ask Commander Justinian a question?” the Hammerfell representative said.

“Ask away,” Alicarius replied.

“You said the daedra went through Kvatch like a hot knife through butter,” the redguard said. “But surely that's impossible-Kvatch is one of the most heavily fortified cities in all of Tamriel.”

“Which is precisely why the threat of a daedric invasion is such a great one,” Alicarius said. “There are gates that can be summoned up from nowhere, gates that allow a direct link from the material world to Oblivion. The one that was at Kvatch was opened directly outside the city by a deadric cultist. They could appear at any city, the daedra could pour out and slaughter the inhabitants and then leave.”

“And do you have any ideas about how to combat these daedra?” the Black Marsh representative asked.

“Yes I do,” Alicarius said. He reached inside his travel satchel and pulled out the stone from the tower, and laid it on the table. “This stone was powering the Oblivion gate. I took it, at great personal risk, from a tower inside the plane of Oblivion. When I did, the gate sealed itself and I appeared outside of Kvatch again. If a group of soldiers can do the same, then we could stand a chance of combating the daedra until a permanent solution can be found.”

There was some more murmuring around the table.

“My thanks, Commander Justinian,” Ocato said, as Alicarius sat down again. “I now open the floor to all speakers.”

“Well said,” Legion, who was now juggling a trio of pink fireballs, remarked as Alicarius sat down.

“Get rid of those things,” Alicarius hissed, before suddenly realising that no-one was staring at Legion. Even he would have-it wasn't every day you saw a man juggle pink fire every day. “Hold on, can anyone see you?”

“Only you, and possible Lady Sarethi, judging by the funny look she's giving me,” Legion said, before catching his fireballs in one hand and giving her a cheerful wave. “To everyone else, I'm invisible. Obviously Lady Sarethi is a fairly potent witch, if she can see me. I'd watch myself around her, if I were you-she's so sharp she could cut herself.”

“I thought you were supposed to be invisible anyway,” Alicarius pointed out.

“Oh, let me have my fun,” Legion said. “Anyway, I have already lent you a hand, invisibly.”

“You have?” Alicarius asked.

“Oh yes, at Kvatch,” Legion said. “I made sure the castle's gates were open.”

“They were completely destroyed,” Alicarius pointed out.

“Exactly,” Legion pointed out as he began to juggle again. “I just said to the battering ram what fun it would be to completely tear the gatehouse to shreds. If I hadn't, the castle's gates would be closed, and you would bravely volunteered to go through the secret passage to reach the gate opening mechanism. At which point, the daedra would have properly noticed Captain Matilas was counterattacking, and gone to deal with him. Then they would have also noticed that there were people in the chapel, meaning that Martin would have died, also meaning your brave efforts would have been for nothing.”

“So you were responsible for the deaths of those guarding the castle?” Alicarius asked, outraged.

“They were dead anyway,” Legion said. “The daedra would have broken through and massacred them all the same.”

Alicarius grunted in annoyance, but left the issue to lie.

The next few hours were punctuated by speeches from the other representatives, all of whom promised their support to the Empire. Alicarius cynically wondered how long the support would last before they decided it would be more advantageous to go their own way.

He mentally took a look at the different diplomat's minds. The khajiit one wanted to make sure that extra restrictions were put on Moon Sugar and Skooma usage were put in place, most likely to drive up prices and make the Elswyrian drug trade more profitable. The redguard, the orc and the nord were, wisely, more concerned about the military threat the daedra posed and the breton and high elf both seemed to think that Cyrodiil could be overrun by daedra as long as they weren't bothered by them. Idiots.

Then he felt a mental probe gently feel its way into his own mind. Alicarius immediately snapped on it, grabbed it using its own mind, noting a sudden panicked looked appear on Lady Sarethi's face.

He released his mental grip, and flashed her a sarcastic smile.

And what do you think you're doing in my mind? he asked her mentally.

I was simply curious about the Hero of Kvatch, she replied. And where exactly you came from.

Meet me after this, and I'll explain, Alicarius said. If this meeting ever ends, of course.

He did get a reply, but a feeling of assent and amusement.

Fortunately, the meeting ended as the sun finally set, prompting the dignitaries to leave the grand council chamber and into a large dining hall. The dinner was a sumptuous affair, but Alicarius ate sparingly, eating just a few slices of bread and sipping at some water.

“Before we leave, I would like to make a toast,” Ocato suddenly announced. “A toast of good faith, and to stability and peace in the Empire. And as the Hero of Kvatch, and esteemed commander of the Legion, I suggest that Alicarius be the first drinker.”

There was a “Hear hear!” from Fulk, who had drunk a little too much mead, and a quiet chuckle from the others.

The first drinker was a curious custom Alicarius discovered upon his arrival at Nirn. A guest would chosen from those present, usually one who had earned the privilege in some way, to be first to try a glass from fresh bottle of wine.

“And to mark the occasion, I have personally chosen a bottle from the palace's cellars,” Ocato continued. “A fine vintage that has been maturing there for almost two hundred years.”

The bottle was bought in on a trolley, and reverently lifting it up, Ocato uncorked it. A rich, heady scent filled the room, and just from smelling it, Alicarius could sense that it was a fine one indeed.

Ocato carefully poured the wine into the glasses, before offering one to Alicarius. Various servants took the glasses to the other dignitaries.

Carefully holding his glass, trying to crush it, Alicarius raised it, and announced; “To the long life of the Empire!” before taking a swig. His eyes widened in shock.

“To the long life of the Empire,” the others repeated. They raised their glasses to their lips, before Alicarius suddenly roared; “DO NOT DRINK IT!!”

The glasses froze where they were, the other regarding him with shocked eyes.

“Whyever not?” Fulk asked. “Is there something wrong with it.”

Alicarius took another sip of his wine to be sure, before feeling the metallic tang in his gut.

“It's poisoned,” he said. “I don't know by whom, but it definitely is.”

There was a shocked silence. Serene looked intently at her glass, murmuring the words for a spell. A green powder rose from the wine, and settled itself in a neat pile on the table.

“He's right,” she said. “It's Bloodwort powder-completely tasteless and scentless, but it's instantly deadly.”

“Then how come he managed to drink it?” Fulk pointed out. “He's fine, after all.”

There was outraged shouting from the other dignitaries, and for a moment it seemed a violent argument was about be sparked off. Alicarius saw only one way to diffuse the situation.

“SILENCE!!” he roared. Obediently, the dignitaries became quiet. You ignored a space marine at your peril.

“Space marines are immune to poisons, and can sense when they're present in food or drink,” Alicarius said. “It means we can fight anywhere we want. But we were lucky-if I had not been first drinker then I don't doubt that everyone else here is dead.”

“Then who could have poisoned it?” Karraz said.

“I can't be sure, but no doubt someone who wanted to set the provinces at eachother's throats and kill Ocato.”

The high chancellor himself looked somewhat ill-it did not bode well for him that his meeting had nearly ended in an absolute tragedy.

“And who would benefit from that?” the argonian representative asked.

“Someone who would like to see the Empire fall apart very much,” Alicarius said. “I would say the Mythic Dawn. They killed the Emperor, and I wouldn't put it past them to try and kill all of us.”

“And what are you doing to deal with them?” the high elf dignitary asked. “If they were bold enough to try this then I can't see how you've done much against the,

“I have already been hunting them down and trying to deal with them,” Alicarius said. “We have the Blades themselves trying to find them now, and this was most likely an act of desperation.”

“A hanging man will kick at anything as the noose tightens,” Fulk said, quoting the old nord saying. “He's right. They'll try anything now that they realise their days are numbered.”

“My point exactly,” Alicarius said.

Ocato nodded.

“I think, perhaps, now would be a time to get some sleep,” he said. “I can't say that I'm particularly keen on any pudding myself.”

#

Alicarius' room was fairly simple in comparison to the rooms reserved for the other dignitaries, but he preferred things that way-he never liked excessive ostentation and finery. There was also a hammock stretched between a wooden frame for him to sleep on, and a large rack reserved for his armour and halberd. The idea of the hammock appealed to him, and getting in, despite the slight problems with him nearly falling out at one point, found it very comfortable.

He soon went to sleep in the normal manner, deciding that if he had to get up with the others his hypersleep would leave him overtired. He slept quietly for a few hours, undisturbed.

Until he was woken by hearing the door open and quiet, stealthy feet pad in.

This post has been edited by The Bean: Feb 28 2009, 06:40 PM

[minque]

Alicarius was surprised to see the Serene was no dark elf, as he had expected, but instead an Imperial, with, somewhat confusingly, a surname fairly common amongst dark elves. Alicarius guessed that she must have married a dark elf at sometime in her life.

Ha! So she made it ....very nice Beanie..hehe, this story is catching...me likey..oh aye. Your descriptions are awesome....

[Colonel Mustard]

Thanks Minque, I'm glad you liked it. Cheers for the complimenu on the descriptions as well. Even if I say so myself, I do find them enjoyable to write, which may explain why you fine them good.

[canis216]

Nice work indeed. I can only quibble with small things here and there... like Ocato, who is actually a High Elf.

[Colonel Mustard]

Nice work indeed. I can only quibble with small things here and there... like Ocato, who is actually a High Elf.

You sure? Only I remember playing through the final sequence and there Ocato was a dark elf.

[canis216]

Nice work indeed. I can only quibble with small things here and there... like Ocato, who is actually a High Elf.

You sure? Only I remember playing through the final sequence and there Ocato was a dark elf.

Altmer. Trust me.

And here's a picture.

[Colonel Mustard]

I stand corrected. And now Grey Knight must also be corrected.

[Colonel Mustard]

And the next part. Things concerning Ocato happen in it.

You'll see...

Part 20-Betrayal

Alicarius waited for the feet to approach further, still breathing gently, feigning sleep. He heard the faint 'schwink' of a dagger being drawn from a sheath and Alicarius followed the blade's glint in the dim light that shone through the keyhole.

There was a murmur of 'For Lord Dagon,' and then the dagger plunged down.

In one swift movement, Alicarius grabbed where he thought the wrist was, was rewarded by a cry of pain, and reached out to grab his attacker's waist, rolling out of his hammock. He landed on his opponent’s waist with a painful crunch, before getting up and leaving his assailant lying on the floor, screaming in pain. He grabbed his halberd from its rack and hurried out of the corridor immediately.

A man dressed in the red robes of the Mythic Dawn rushed towards him, wielding a dagger, but Alicarius sliced down with his halberd, splitting the man's torso in half. He looked for the guards outside the door, and found them slumped on the floor, blood dribbling from their cut throats. He rounded a corner, his immediate concern for the other dignitaries-it would not look good if they were all murdered in their beds on his watch.

Almost immediately, he ran into Lord Fulk. The Nord had a drawn sword, as did his guards, and all three were badly battered and bloodied.

“Alicarius!” Fulk exclaimed. “Are you alright? What happened?”

“I was attacked in my sleep,” Alicarius replied. “I dealt with him-he's still alive, but I think his legs were broken. What about you?”

“Pretty much the same,” Fulk replied. “Only they didn't bargain on Njil and Bjorn.”

“What about the others,” Alicarius asked.

“No idea,” Fulk said. Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by an animalistic roar of fury. “Though that could be Lady K'tarr.”

They ran to the source of the noise, to discover that it was indeed, the Elswyrian diplomat. She had her claws out and was swiping viciously at a pair of assassins, who had wisely elected to keep their distance.

“There they are!” Fulk yelled. “Get them!”

His cry proved to be enough to distract one of the assassins. It didn't last long, however-K'tarr was on the man in an instant, her claws tearing at the man's face viciously. The other assassin took an opportunistic swing at her, but she rolled away and grabbed his arm. A quick slice with her claws ended the man's life.

“Thanks for the distraction,” she said to Fulk.

“Not a problem,” Fulk replied. “Now we need to find the others.”

They all started as they heard a group round a corner, but it was a large group of guards.

“You stay with them,” Alicairus ordered the others. “The rest of you, come with me.”

A large detachment of guards followed the space marine, hurrying up the stairs to where the rest of the dignitaries had their quarters.

They came across Serene Sarethi and Karraz first. Both of them had their weapons out, a katana and massive warhammer respectively, and were battling a large group of assassins and, bizarrely enough, the palace's guards.

Seeing this, immediately Alicarius span round, his halberd at the ready and crackling with electricity, and blocked a sword that would have otherwise decapitated him. He swung his halberd back, and then in a sweeping blow, slashed through three guards that got too close. Another charged at him, swinging his sword, but Alicarius smashed his foot into the man's chest, sending him flying with blood gushing form his mouth. The final guard tried to back away, but Alicarius slashed at him with his halberd anyway, cutting the man in half.

He turned to see how the fight down the corridor was progressing. Serene and Karraz had dispatched some of their enemies, but the rest were pressing on them, anxious to finish the fight quickly. Alicarius was happy to oblige them.

He charged into the middle of the melee, his halberd smashing away some of the assassins and rogue guards. He grabbed another and hurled the man into his comrades, smashing them to the ground with a crack of bone.

The remaining two were quickly killed by Karraz and Serene, her Katana burying itself in a rogue guard's neck and his warhammer smashing an assassin's skull open like a ripe melon.

“You alright?” Alicarius asked them, as he wiped blood of him halberd's blade.

“I'm fine,” Serene said.

“Same here,” Karraz said.

“Good,” Alicarius said. “What happened here?”

They gave a brief explanation of what had happened-they had been attacked in their beds, and had attempted to alert the guards, who, along with a group of assassins, turned on them. Alicarius related what had happened to him, before realising something.

“I left the others with the guards!” he exclaimed. “If they're rogue too then...”

He didn't need to bother finishing his sentence for Serene and Karraz to realise the implications. They made to head down the stairs, but were stopped by the appearance of one of Fulk's guards, the one called Njil.

“It's too late,” he said. “They're all dead. The guards turned on us, and murdered them. I barely managed to fight my way out alive.”

“It was the same thing up here,” Serene said. “The guards have joined the Mythic Dawn.”

“Not all of them, I don't think,” Alicarius said. “The guards at my door had had their throats slit-not all of them have turned traitor.”

“We still shouldn't trust any of them,” Karraz said. “There's no knowing who will turn on us.”

“Who would be ordering them around though?” Njil asked.

“There's only one person who would have full authority over the guards,” Alicarius said, anger rising in his voice. “Ocato.”

“Are you sure that it was him?” Karraz asked. “That's a pretty serious accusation you're levelling.”

“Who else could have the authority to put the guards on shifts so the ones loyal only to Ocato would be present when the assassins attacked?” Alicarius asked. “Who picked the wine? Who chose our quarters for us?”

“Ocato did,” Serene said. “It's worth investigating.”

“Where would he be?” Njil asked.

“At the top of White Gold Tower,” Alicarius said. “Where else?”

The four hurried up the stairs, avoiding any guards they came across, before finally coming to Ocato's quarters.

“This is it,” Alicarius said. “Be on your guard-there's no knowing what Ocato will try.”

Without waiting for an answer, Alicarius kicked the door down and thundered in, to find the dark elf standing the room waiting for him. He was along, barring the presence of a young woman dressed in the robes of a battlemage.

“I see my trap didn't work,” Ocato said. “Well, I'm left with no choice but to kill you myself then. It was nice to meet you all.”

He gathered a blue bolt of power on the end of his staff, and sent it spearing forwards, before Alicarius marshalled his own powers and blocked the attack. He countered, a beam of solid white light spearing from his outstretched hand, but it was blocked by a shield Ocato had erected.

Inside his mind, the Rage was screaming for blood.

The battlemage charged towards Alicarius' companions, but he was too preoccupied with dealing with Ocato to notice. He sent another spear of light towards Ocato, but once again his shields dissipated it.

Alicarius raised his halberd and charged forwards, hoping to finish the fight in close combat. Ocato's own staff blocked the swing of his blade with surprising strength. Each slice and swing of Alicarius' was countered by Ocato, who responded with sharp jabs which Alicarius struggled to avoid.

“Mehrunes Dagon has made me strong,” Ocato said as they fought. “He has bestowed many gifts upon me.”

Alicarius blocked another swing at him, but didn't reply.

“You can join him too, Alicarius,” Ocato continued. “He could use a servant of your might-you could gain great favour, become even stronger, immortal!”

“I've been offered that opportunity many times before,” Alicarius grunted, as he made a vicious swing at Ocato. “I've always had to turn it down- seems to come with the downside of damning my own soul whenever I have been.”

“You fool,” Ocato said. He stepped back. “Then I must show you the true glory of Mehrunes Dagon!”

He stepped back suddenly, and spread his arms wide. A red corona of light began to form around him as he drew upon unholy energies. His eyes rolled back in his sockets, and he gave a yell of both pain and ecstasy as he began to change. Shadows spilled in from the windows and streamed into the sleeves of Ocato's robes, which roiled and bucked. Horns made of brass burst from his forehead, spiralling and winding like those of a ram. Scythe like claws rattled as they extended from Ocato's fingernails, while his arms began to ripple and swell with muscle. His skin began to crack, like dried earth, and blood flowed liberally from it, dying it crimson.

Then he dropped to the floor, grinning unnaturally widely and revealing needle-sharp teeth.

Njil, Karraz and Serene stood behind him having dealt with his bodyguard, shock in their eyes.

“What is that?” Serene asked, fear evident in her voice.

“That,” Alicarius said. “Is a daemonhost. And now, I'm afraid, it's going to try and kill us.”

And most likely succeed, he added silently.

[canis216]

Wow! Ocato's a traitor?!

[minque]

Uhhhh....for a moment I thought Renie wouldn't make it! Dear me...this was exciting...Alicarius did a good job here, and as canis said..Ocato's a traitor????