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

[Illydoor]

Nice post! Not sure about the muskets though, I still like the clash of steel against steel better .

I especially like the description of Jsashe and her chariot, and also the bit about the shield wedge. I could just imagine the colossal battle, and the fact that I've just watched 300 again recently made the image you painted even more vivid and impressive in my mind.

Keep it up man, there are just a few niggly little bits you could polish up a bit, but they're only small typos here and there that can easily be solved with a quick proofread.

Awaiting the next part! Grund! Grund! Grund!

This post has been edited by Illydoor: Apr 12 2009, 08:20 PM

[Colonel Mustard]

Well the muskets were a bit of a sticking point for me too at first, but the more I thought about it the more it seemed to make sense. Alicarius would have to know about primitive weapons like muskets in case he ever fought on a feudal world, and if you take gunpowder out of the equation guns become so much more...streamlined.

Plus I like the idea of a legionairre with a flintlock style pistol and a sword.

[Colonel Mustard]

And the next part. Blimey, I'm running out of pre-written parts...

Part 28-Grund

The giant stepped through the Nord lines, each footstep thundering upon the ground, not caring whether or not it stepped on any soldiers. With two massive strides, it reached their front.

“FALL BACK!” Alicarius roared. “FALL BACK NOW!”

The trebuchet sent another load of explosives into the monster, and as the soldiers of Chorrol and the Legion fled back up the hill, leaving only Alicarius behind, the giant's torso exploded in a waft of flame. The air began to stink of burning hair and chemicals, Grund flailing uselessly against the fire. He dropped, and for a moment Alicarius hoped that the monster had been killed by the siege weapon, but the giant rolled, his mass extinguishing the inferno.

Grund rose, ruddy skin scorched black and a murderous expression upon his face. He wrenched a rock from the ground and hurled it at the trebuchet, the siege weapon exploding in a shower of shattered beams and splinters. The men manning it fled to join their comrades up at the top of the hill, not wanting to risk the wrath of Grund. Only Alicarius remained, weapon at the ready, poised to fight.

Grund grabbed his massive club from where it had fallen, and with a single gargantuan swing, smashed it into the spot where Alicarius was. With agility that was surprising for someone of his size, the Grey Knight had already leapt aside and rolled. Grund's massive strength proved to be to his disadvantage, and Alicarius charged forwards and scored a deep cut in Grund's arm. The giant roared in pain and smashed Alicarius aside with a hand the size of a small car.

Wrenching his club out of the ground, Grund took another clumsy swing at Alicarius, but he had already scrambled to his feet and dodged away. Realising that his plan of simply crushing the space marine into the ground wasn't working, Grund instead took a long swing at Alicarius, his club parallel to the ground.

Alicarius realised he couldn't dodge in time, and opted for another plan. He stood firm, locking the leg joints of his armour and placed his halberd out before him.

The club slammed into the weapon with enough force to topple a building, and the impact drove Alicarius back several paces, his boots digging deep furrows into the ground. Warning runes flashed up on the HUD of his helmet but he ignored them-he had more pressing concerns.

Grund stumbled from the sudden change in momentum, dropping his club and almost toppling over. Alicarius wrenched his halberd free, unlocking the armour in his legs and charged at the giant, slamming his weapon into Grund's shin. The massive creature roared in pain and fell to one knee, the impact causing the ground to shake. Alicarius' momentum carried him through the monster's legs, forcing him to abandon his halberd, and straight into one of Grund's flailing hands.

The impact knocked the breath out of him, and Alicarius was stunned by it, head swimming as he was lifted up to go face to face with Grund. The giant roared at the space marine in his hand, the noise deafening even with the protection offered to him by his helmet. Grund began to squeeze, and Alicarius groaned in pain as he felt a rib break with a sickening crack. His armour began to pump painkillers into his system, the afflicted area already going numb, but Alicarius was less concerned with that and more preoccupied by his heart and lungs-the damage done to him by Ocato wasn't fully healed, and the strain of the giant's assault could be too much for his twin hearts.

The giant loosened his grip and squeezed again, gurgling in the simple joy of inflicting pain of something smaller and weaker than itself, before Alicarius marshalled his psychic powers and blasted them towards Grund.

They would have had little effect on something that could withstand a direct hit from the trebuchet's explosives, but Alicarius wasn't aiming to hurt Grund. A flash of blinding white light sprang from Alicarius' body, and Grund instinctively dropped him to shield his eyes. He landed with a painful crunch, but immediately scrambled to his feet. Grund, still dazzled by the sudden burst of psychic light from Alicarius, stumbled around blindly, unable to see where Alicarius was.

He immediately took his opportunity and tore his halberd free from the giant's ankles, sending blood and viscera spraying in all directions. He span and mercilessly hacked at the giant's good ankle, slicing through the flesh and bone with three blows. Grund gave a wordless scream of agony and fell, clutching at the stump of his ankle and causing the Nord army to groan in despair.

Alicarius immediately sprinted to giant's head, raised his halberd and slammed it down. In one slice, he severed the monstrous creature's head from its shoulders, and rolled it to face the Nord lines.

“Grund is defeated!” he roared to them.

He saw Jsashe, standing on her chariot and looking thunderous, roar out an order. From his position, Alicarius thought it sounded worryingly similar to 'Kill him!'

With a bloodthirsty roar, what was left of the Nord army thundered forwards.

“Well,” Alicarius murmured to himself as he readied his halberd. “I can't deny the claim that I fought an army any more.”

The nord army hit him like a tidal wave striking a rock. But Alicarius was no mere rock.

As soon as the Nord hit, Alicarius swung his halberd round in a wide arc, the weapon smashing through the soldiers, sending blood and limbs flying. He allowed his momentum to carry him in a full circle, carving a bloody path through the Nord army. Taking his halberd in both hands and whirling it like around him like a dynamo, Alicarius advanced forwards, the weapon crackling with electrical power, boiling the blood that coated it.

A man leapt on his back, pummelling at his power-pack with his mace, but Alicarius wrenched him off, sending him flying away. But more and more soldiers piled onto him, their numbers threatening to overwhelm the giant warrior. Within moments, Alicarius was weighed down beneath a mass of Nord soldiers, attacking mercilessly with axe, mace, sword and spear.

Alicarius suddenly exploded out of the pile like an erupting volcano, sending men flying away. He swung his halberd in an arc, smashing men away with the sheer force of his blows. He roared a litany of hatred, smashing his weapon into a mass of men, shearing through their ranks.

He gasped as he felt a sudden tight pain in his chest, a pain he had been dreading. The damage done to his internal organs after his fight with Ocato was still a problem, one that was now proving deadly. He stumbled, still swinging his weapon wildly, trying to keep the Nord soldiers back. Then he fell to his knees, gasping for air beneath his helmet. The Nords hung back, no doubt still nervous after he had slaughtered so many of their comrades.

Gasping for air, Alicarius wrenched off his helmet and spat a gobbet of blood. He heard the sound wheels approach and saw the feet of one of the bears pulling Jsashe's chariot. She dismounted from the vehicle and Alicarius, trying to ignore the feeling that one of his hearts might burst from the strain, raised his head to make eye contact.

“So, the mighty Grey Knight is laid low,” Jsashe said. She was gloating, over him all of all people. “I never thought I'd see the day.”

Alicarius struggled to his feet. He found the idea of being killed by this witch, while on his knees after a seizure, somewhat demeaning. He snarled at her weakly.

“Still defiant?” Jsashe asked. “We'll see.”

She sent her spear jabbing towards his throat, a blow aiming to kill him.

Alicarius caught it.

A contorted, pained, demented, predatory grin was on his features as he held the tip of the weapon in his fist, the iron point inches from his throat. With a flick of his wrist, he snapped it, the wood splintering. Still baring his teeth, grimacing in pain like a trapped and wounded animal, Alicarius spat.

His saliva, mixed with blood, hit Jsashe's eyes, hit home, and she dropped her spear and collapsed, screaming and clawing at her eyes in pain. After a moment, it overrode her nervous system and she fell unconscious. Alicarius picked her and his helmet up in one hand, his halberd in the other.

He advanced toward the Imperial lines, the soldiers parting before him. As he carried Jsashe with him, he spoke.

“Men of Skyrim!” he said. “Your leader is defeated, and you giant dead. You have been defeated. You have fought honourably and with courage, I cannot fault you for that. But today has already proved that your steel cannot bring down this warrior.”

That was a lie-the way his heart was holding out, if one soldier plucked up the courage to attack him and rescue his leader, the rest would follow and he would be finished. None of them did, however. They just watched him warily.

“I would bet good money on many of you not being professional soldiers,” Alicarius continued-after all, how else could Jsashe raise such a huge army without conscripting from Skryim's people? “And I would guess that many of you simply want to return to your shops and your farms, and to your wives and children.”

He reached the edge of the Nord lines, climbed a little further up the hill of the valley before turning to face them.

“I shall not stop you doing so,” he said. “You are brave soldiers, and I am willing to do the honourable thing and allow you disperse and return to your homes. If you leave quietly, surrender Bruma and restore Skyrim's old borders then there shall be no retribution against you soldiers. But if I hear any news of farms being looted, of people being assaulted as you leave, then believe me, there will be a reckoning! Now leave. Take your wounded and return to your homes.”

As Alicarius went up the hill to the Imperial ranks, he was greeted with an awed silence.

“Serrio,” he called.

His ever-reliable captain hurried out of the ranks, musket slung over one shoulder.

“Yes sir?” he asked.

“Get some details organised to collect our wounded,” Alicarius said. He could see a few captains down in the Nord army doing the same. “And give me your knife a moment.”

Serrio took a knife from the back of his boot and handed it to Alicarius.

“What are you doing sir?” he asked, as Alicarius lifted Jsashe's dress up, exposing the back of her legs.

“Crippling her,” Alicarius replied.

“Why?” Serrio asked. “Why not just kill her?”

“It's easy to rally around a martyr,” Alicarius said. With two neat cuts, he severed the hamstring tendons behind Jsashe's knees, letting the legs flop loosely. “It's not so easy to rally around a blind cripple.”

Serrio looked slightly pale as Alicarius handed back the knife. He was a soldier, used to bloodshed and death, but he obviously found the callous brutality of what he had witnessed somewhat shocking.

“Now,” Alicarius said. “Are you just going to stand there? We've got wounded to collect.”

[Illydoor]

Cool post, that battle certainly was an epic one, and Grund with hands the size of cars! Really how big is that Giant, I thought he was your run of the mill ogre-sized monster, unless he has really big hands and a disproportionately small body .

But anyway, only one crit I would have for this post is that Alicarius defeated Jsashe a bit too easily for me, I mean she must be leader of the Nord army for a reason, and with her chariot and her enchanted spear I would of thought she would have at least put up a bit more of a fight.

You could have a short duel with Alicarius and Jsashe before he spits in her eyes, but anyway that's just my personal opinion.

[Colonel Mustard]

Illy, do the maths.

Grey Knight vs oldish lady.

The space marine is going to, for want of a better word, pwn her in a matter of seconds.

And most peoqle become leaders of armies by being really ruthless. Jsashe was one of them and Alicarius did take her by surprise.

[Colonel Mustard]

And now I've run out of pre-written parts. Eek!

Part 29-Nest of Vipers

Skyrim's army, defeated and battered, returned home quietly, escorted all the time by Chorrol's troops. The tension between the armies was palpable, but fortunately nothing happened by the time Skyrim's forces had reached their nation's borders. The army dispersed when they reached the borders, Nord soldiers taking the many different roads to their homes in the cities and towns.

Bruma was handed over without any problems. Alicarius personally thought the countess should have been executed for her treason and cowardly surrender of the city, but that was a matter beyond his control.

“That went cleanly,” Serrio said as the Nord soldiers crossed the border. “Lucky, really.”

Alicarius nodded.

“Could have been a lot worse,” Alicarius said. “All it really needed was one idiot and we would have been fighting again.”

“Still, with the muskets we would've made a mess of them,” Serrio pointed out.

“True, but I suppose no bloodshed at all is better,” Alicarius said. “Serrio, do you think you would be able to get the men back to Chorrol for me?”

“Yeah, sure I could,” Serrio said. “Why'd you ask?”

“Didn't you say that that Mythic Dawn place was near here?” Alicarius asked.

“That's true,” Serrio said. “Due east, I'd imagine.”

Alicarius turned to leave.

“Where're you going?” Serrio asked after him.

“To dispense the Emperor's law,” Alicarius replied.

#

The journey through the Jerall Mountains was a long, but pleasantly uneventful one. A system of roads had never been constructed through the mountains, and several times Alicarius had to backtrack and change his route to avoid getting lost. He ran into a tribe of ogres along the way, and used their supplies to stock up his own ones. He didn't touch the meat, however. There was no knowing where that had come from.

But after two days of travel, he reached his destination. The heretic's hideout was a cave, above Lake Arrius. The view was a stunning one, a waterfall cascading down into the river below the lake, and the town of Cheyindal and the rest of the Niben Basin stretching below him in a panoramic view. Shading his eyes against the sun, Alicarius could just make out the needle-like shape of White Gold Tower. It was a view worthy of awards.

The way into the Mythic Dawn's caverns was simply a slightly decrepit wooden door. Beyond it, the heretic's home awaited.

Danyil, the gatekeeper for the Mythic Dawn, had been having a bad day. For a start, that maniac, Erna Rahnis, had decided to visit them. The dark elf had, as he always did, made a nuisance of himself, and by the time he had disappeared the master had been most displeased. Danyil hadn't even seen the elf leave, and he had a nagging feeling that he was still around somewhere.

But what happened next was more than enough to eclipse his other troubles.

The door burst open, and in came the giant. The silver armoured behemoth grabbed Daynil by the throat in a grip like iron, and the cold, soulless visage of the giant's silver helmet.

“Do you repent?” the giant asked, his voice blaring through the helmet's speakers. “Do you renounce Mehrunes Dagon?”

Daynil gasped, struggling and kicking against the remorseless grip around his throat. Suddenly it was loosened and the wood elf was dropped on the ground. Desperately, he tried to scramble away, but it was no good; a massive boot had him pinned to the ground.

“What do you say?” the giant quizzed.

“Yes!” Daynil choked, his throat already beginning to bruise from the giant's grip. “I repent. Let me live, please.”

Alicarius stamped down, crushing the heretic's chest.

“The Emperor shall decide whether you shall live, by his side on the Golden Throne,” Alicarius said. “Not me.”

He carried on down into the darkness of the caverns, his halberd lighting the way with a crackling corona of electrical energy. A guard saw him, and with a scream of; “BLOOD FOR DAGON!” summoned a suit of armour and a weapon and rushed at Alicarius. For all his beserk fury, the fight lasted less than a second.

“Burn the heretic,” Alicarius murmured, the ancient catechism of hatred familiar to his lips. “Purge the xeno. Abhor the unclean.”

He came into a larger cavern, illuminated by guttering torches. Blasphemous runes were carved upon the walls, the skull rune of Khorne hacked into the stone by the zealous strokes of one of the cultists. An entrance to the deeper caves was blocked off by an iron gate, but Alicarius simply ripped the bars free and went through into the darkness.

The next cave obviously the central one, a huge cavern with a roof that towered several metres above the cavern. In the centre of the cavern, a stone altar had been hacked out of the rock, and a large archway that pulsed with warp energy was placed in the centre. Within it, Alicarius could see a vista of perfect beauty, a sun setting on a lush green landscape, completely at odds with the usual hellish realms of the warp. But what dominated his interest more was the elf dressed in ornate red robes standing atop the altar, and the amulet clasped in his hands. There were myriad other cultists assembled within the room, chanting praise to Mehrunes Dagon. Alicarius hoped this was not a summoning and simply another service-the last thing he wanted was a fight with a powerful daedra.

As soon as the elf saw Alicarius, he clutched the amulet close to him and shouted; “Kill him!”

He fled through the warp portal (for what else could it be?), the doorway into unreality sealing itself behind him. The rest of the cultists drew various weapons, willing to sacrifice their lives in a futile effort to kill Alicarius.

But Alicarius knew that it was his duty to convince these cultists the error of their ways and grant them absolution. For the heretic could still redeem themselves in the fires of redemption and sacrifice, and stand a chance at the Emperor's mercy.

With a wave of his hand, he extinguished the torches in the cavern, plunging it into darkness. He immediately activated the darksun filters of his helmet and the cave became illuminated in harsh tones of black and white, showing the members of the cult suddenly stumbling over themselves in the sudden darkness.

“Burn the heretic,” Alicarius said, loud enough for the men and women present to hear him. “Purge the xeno. Abhor the unclean. That is the creed of my people.”

He slipped past a stumbling cultist, before grabbing the man and sending him sprawling on the floor, leaving him to scream as his arm snapped under the impact of the blow.

“You are heretics,” Alicarius said, his voice still calm and flat. “Therefore you must be burned. Burn the heretic. That is the creed of my people.”

For a moment, he could have sworn he heard somebody muttering 'burnburnburnburn.'

“Can you expect mercy from me?” he asked. He smacked the flat of his halberd's blade against a stalagmite. “There can be no mercy from me. Mercy is a concept alien to me.”

By now, the cultists had stopped in their struggles and were huddled in the centre of the cave, at the edge of the altar.

“Yet there is still time for redemption,” he said. “Do you repent Mehrunes Dagon? Do you wish to redeem yourselves in the light of the Emperor, the true master of man?”

There was silence.

“Do you repent?” Alicarius asked again, his voice louder.

“I repent,” a terrified voice in the huddled mass of people said.

“I repent,” another said.

“Do you all repent?” Alicarius said.

“We repent!” the group said as one.

“Then embrace the light and warmth of the Emperor,” Alicarius said. He raised his hand towards the group and let white flames of psychic power burst forth. The cultists screamed and tried to escape, but it was too late-the burning phosphorescence of the flames burned their clothes and roasted them alive.

Only in death could the heretic gain redemption.

Alicarius relit the torches and looked on the altar to give him at least some kind of clue as to where the elf could have taken the amulet. The only thing he could find was a heavy, ancient looking book. Unholy symbols were written upon it's cover, ones that Alicarius guessed to be the unnatural scripture used by the daedra. He supposed that it could be useful to some extent, and picked it up.

As he was about to leave the cavern, he was stopped by the sound of slow clapping. He turned to see a man leaning against the wall on the other side of the cavern.

“My my,” the stranger said, sounding impressed. “What a mess you've made here.”

“Who are you?” Alicarius asked, raising his halberd.

“Call me Erna,” the man said. “Lovely to meet you.”

He walked towards the space marine, an erratic, zigzag walk that danced him across the floor like a mad waltzer.

He extended a hand.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he said.

Alicarius' halberd slammed into the man's chest and he wrenched it out in a spray of bubbling blood and viscera. The man called Erna toppled to the ground, dead.

Alicarius left.

[Colonel Mustard]

And more. Because I thought I'd jump on the class war bandwagon

Part 30-Lord Commander

Alicarius returned to Cloud Ruler Temple with the heretic's book of sorcery tucked inside the bag he carried whenever he was on a journey. Initially it had only held supplies for the battle but there was enough space to stow the book in it.

Alicarius took almost the exact route he had taken last time, deviating only slightly. After two days of travelling, he reached the souther gates of Bruma. The city had been left intact from the nord invasion and as Alicarius travelled through it he noted many resentful glances were cast in his direction. Obviously the nords that made up Skyrim's population had supported Jsashe's invasion and blamed him for her defeat, but Alicarius had more pressing issues to worry about than a few angry nords.

The walk through the town was a short one, and Alicarius reached the imposing fortress of Cloud Ruler Temple in no short order. The gates swung open as soon as the sentries saw Alicarius coming, the massive iron hinges creaking gently under the weight of the huge doors.

Alicarius made his way up the stone steps (which he observed would be an excellent chokepoint for enemy forces) and into the fortress' main hall.

He hadn't seen the inside of Cloud Ruler Temple's massive hall, and stood for a moment in the doorway, quietly observing the layout of the pillared hall. Various wooden tables had peen pushed against the edges and at one of them was Martin, engrossed in various books.

“Martin!” Alicarius called across the hall. “I see you are well.”

The prospective Emperor glanced up from his books and called a greeting to Alicarius.

“Are you well?” Alicarius asked.

“I am fine,” Martin said. “But Jauffre worries like a mother hen sometimes.”

“You're valuable,” Alicarius replied. “If we lose you then we've lost the war.”

“I suppose,” Martin said. “But it is dull at times. All I have are these books and the Blades to keep me company. You can't talk with books and most of the soldiers here are too concerned with following conduct for a conversation.”

“It's dull, I know,” Alicarius said. “But as I said, it's necessary.”

“I know,” Martin said. “But I just feel like I'm not doing anything to help.”

“I do have something that you could put your mind to,” Alicarius said. He pulled the heavy grey book that he had taken from the cultist's cave and placed it on the table. “I found this at the cave. It may help us locate the amulet.”

“What, you didn't find it?” Martin asked.

“No,” Alicarius replied. “Their leader, Mankar Camoran, escaped through a portal with it before I could retrieve it.”

“Paradise?” Martin murmured.

“What?” Alicarius asked.

“Paradise,” Martin said. “It's a small part of Oblivion that Mankar Camoran uses as his own personal domain. We'd need to get there somehow if we wanted to recover the amulet. And that book may be the key.”

“Do you know if anybody could find out how?” Alicarius asked.

“I can translate it,” Martin said.

Alicarius gave a frown of displeasure at the thought of their only hope of victory against the daedra risking corruption by reading the lies contained in the book, but he knew that he would have to take the risk if he wanted to stop Mehrunes Dagon.

“Do your best,” Alicarius said.

“Oh, before you leave, we got this message from your second in command,” Martin said, holding up a small square of parchment.

It simply said;

Alicarius

Get back to Chorrol now.

Serrio

“I'd best be going then,” Alicarius said. “Send my regards to Jauffre, and tell him if he needs any help I'm ready to lend a hand.”

He needed to get back soon. The note, though only seven words long, seemed to radiate annoyance.

#

Alicarius trekked back to Chorrol as quickly as he could, stopping off at an inn on the way back and earning himself a free night's board for scaring a band of bandits off. He reached his city at around midday. The sun was shining in a cloudless sky and the city looked magnificent as it was bathed in the shine.

Alicarius headed through the gates and towards the castle, with a few of the citizens cheering the 'Hero of Kvatch' as he passed. When he reached the castle, the soldiers guarding its gates saluted him.

“You'd best head in, sir,” one of them said, his tone of voice suggesting that there was something extremely distasteful on the other side.

Alicarius headed through the courtyard of the castle, and into the barrack's main room, where Alicarius and his captains had, just two weeks ago, drawn up plans to counter Skyrim's invading force.

“I see that you have finally decided to grace us with your presence, commander,” a voice, filled with righteous, yet well disguised, upper class indignation said. Alicarius saw a man dressed in the silver armour of the Imperial Legion's highest ranking officers. With a start, he realised that the man's rank badge, a dragon above a golden crown, signified him as the lord commander of the Legion, Hentius Annit.

“My lord,” Alicarius said, saluting. This had to be bad news. “What brings you to my city?”

“You know very well, commander Justinian,” Hentius snapped.

“I am afraid I'm not sure, my lord,” Alicarius replied blithely. “There could be all number of things you wished to visit me about.”

“Skyrim, that's what the problem is,” Hentius fumed. “You took the entire damn garrison out of Chorrol without so much as a by your leave.”

“There's never been a problem with me taking troops out before,” Alicarius said, still calm.

“Bandits and ogres are one thing, commander Justinian, but three hundred men is quite another,” Hentius snapped. The man had become so red in the face that Alicarius was slightly worried that he would burst a blood vessel. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was acting against a threat to my city,” Alicarius said. “I didn't know there was a problem with doing so.”

“The solution to the Skyrim problem was still being debated by the Elder Council,” Hentius said. “It was a complex diplomatic situation.”

“Complex?” Alicarius asked. He let his even tone slip, a hint of derision slipping in. “What is so complex about it? A damn army had invaded Cyrodiilic territory, and I was doing my duty to the Empire and the Legion and protecting that. Perhaps you had forgotten the Legionnaire's Oath when you said that just now.”

There was a collective murmur of concern from the staff that had accompanied Hentius. Amongst the legion, that was one of the gravest insults a man could give. The Lord Commander bristled when he heard the insult, his moustache wobbling with righteous outrage.

“What are you suggesting?” he asked.

“I think you know very well,” Alicarius said, anger beginning to show itself in his voice. Suddenly cowed, Hentius stepped back. “You accuse me of not following my duties? Every word you have said since I have arrived has stunk of hypocrisy. You ask me if I have not done my duty, when you should be asking yourself that same question. You do not sit back and allow diplomats to negotiate bit of your country away, do you hear me? You do the courageous thing, you do the honourable thing, you do the Imperial thing and you take the fight to the enemy!”

By the end he was shouting. There was a stony silence.

“Hentius Annuit,” Alicarius said, lowering his voice but still allowing the threatening tone to just show. “With the authority invested in me by the Emperor of Tamriel, I charge you with cowardice and treason. You have disgraced the name of the Imperial Legion, and of the Empire. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Hentius simply spluttered with outrage at the sudden turn of events.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Alicarius growled again.

“I...you...you can't do this!” Hentius blustered.

“On the contrary,” Alicarius replied. “I think you'll find I can. Rule number seventeen of the Imperial Legion Doctrines states explicitly that a garrison commander may dismiss any member of the Imperial Legion who has been found wanting in the execution of his or her duties.”

“What?” Hentius asked. “He can't do this, tell him Varvur.”

The man he addressed, a dark elf, looked slightly startled by the sudden question.

“Actually, sir, he can,” he said. He flicked through a large book for a moment, before finding what seemed to be the right page. “In fact, it's almost word perfect. And there's nothing say that he couldn't dismiss somebody of higher rank.”

Hentius glowered at this.

“Very well then, Commander Justinian, I see I have no choice,” he said. “You are dismissed and stripped of all rank. You will take any personal belongings you have and leave this fortress by the time the sun has set.”

For a moment, Alicarius was silent, a thunderous expression on his face. Hentius gave him a smug, triumphant smile, self important pride shining on his expression.

“No,” Alicarius said flatly. “I shall not.”

“I am sorry, commander, but I believe I gave an order,” Hentius replied. “I am of senior rank, unless you have forgotten. My orders must be obeyed.”

“I am afraid that while my charges have been levelled your authority is compromised,” Alicarius replied. “Currently you're out of the chain of command, and so control of the Legion passes to your second in command.”

“Do you think those charges will stand?” Hentius asked. “How do you think I gained my rank, eh?”

“You gained your rank through scheming and family connections in a time of peace and comfort,” Alicarius said. “If it weren't for that then you wouldn't even be in the legion. The fact that you stood back and did nothing while an enemy army advanced on our territory will not favour your case. Of course, there is one way you could avoid those charges completely.”

“How?” Hentius asked carefully, grabbing at the supposed lifeline Alicarius had thrown him.

“An honourable duel,” Alicarius said. “If you beat me then I shall vacate my post and all charges against you shall be dropped. If I beat you then I take the post of Lord Commander of the Imperial Legion.”

Now Alicarius had suggested it, Hentius had been forced into a corner which he couldn't back out of. The man had no choice but to accept or compromise his honour.

“Very well, I accept,” he said stiffly.

“Excellent,” Alicarius said, allowing a smile to enter his features. “We duel in the town square, oh, I don't know, about now.”

He turned and strode out of the barracks, the others hurrying to keep up. As Alicarius walked, he let his challenge be known to the town.

“People of Chorrol!” he bellowed as he walked through the streets. “A challenge has been issued.”

People watched him as he went by, following him to see what the fuss was about.

“According to this man,” Alicarius continued, pointing at Hentius, who was following with a sheen of sweat and an expression of pure panic. “I have failed to do my duty properly. According to this man, I was not supposed to defend our city. Apparently, I was supposed to sit by quietly as an army advanced on it and do nothing. Apparently, I should be dismissed for defending the empire!”

There was a jeer from the crowd as they heard this. No doubt the returning soldiers had told tales of his fight with Grund and Skyrim's army and Alicarius had been elevated to the status of a local hero.

“So I have challenged him to an honourable duel,” Alicarius said. “If this man wins then I shall be forced to retire. If I win, then I shall become Lord Commander of the Imperial Legion and there shall be somebody competent leading the legion.”

By the time his speech was done, Alicarius had reached the main square of Chorrol, followed by a large crowd. He stopped, and the people stopped as well, waiting to see what happened.

Alicarius placed the tip of his halberd on the cobbled ground of the square, and walked in a large circle. The scraping noise the adamantium made as it ground along the stone was painful to hear, but Alicarius needed a public arena to defeat Hentius in.

“This shall be our dueling area,” Alicarius announced. “Fifteen yards by fifteen yards. Lord Commander Hentius Annuit, you may take your pick of weapons, as I shall also do.”

Hentius suddenly seemed to come to his senses.

“What?” he exclaimed. “You can't do that. I cannot fight to with your weapons. The competition is an unfair one, I declare it forfeit.”

“Very well then,” Alicarius said. He turned his halberd tip downwards and slammed it into the ground, the cobbles around it cracking on the impact. No doubt it would need sharpening later on. “I shall fight you unarmed.”

He removed his armour's gauntlets in order to make the fight seem fairer-with them he could punch his way through a brick wall.

“Do you wish me to handicap myself any further, Lord Commander?” Alicarius asked. “Perhaps I could fight blindfolded, with my hands tied behind my back in order to swing things even further in your favour.”

Even without a weapon, however the fight was massively one sided in the Grey Knight's favour, but the crowd was in the palm of Alicarius' hand and willing to believe anything he told them.

“That will be all,” Hentius said stiffly, in a futile attempt to regain some face. He stepped into the dueling circle, drawing his sword.

“You,” Alicarius said, pointing at the elf named Varvur. “You shall be witness to the duel. Do you swear to record with all honesty the result of this duel?”

“I do,” the elf replied. He had a hungry look in his eyes, as if he was seeing the some old and oft yearned for wish come true.

“Very well then,” Alicarius said. “Begin the duel.”

Hentius circled Alicarius, who had shifted into a boxing stance, before judging the moment as right and charging in, swinging his sword. Alicarius waited for a moment, before sidestepping, grabbing the wrist of the Lord Commander in one hand and his portly waist in the other and flipping him onto his back. There were cheers and laughter from the crowd as they saw the pompous man humiliated so.

“Come on, I'm sure you can do better than that,” Alicarius said. “I'm a fair man, Lord Commander, let's make it the best of three.”

Twice more Hentius attacked, and twice more the man was knocked aside by Alicarius, who simply helped the Lord Commander up. After the third bout was finished, Alicarius turned and addressed the crowd.

“I believe he is beaten,” he announced. “Would you say so, Varvur.”

The elf, now smiling widely, nodded.

“I pronounce Alicarius Justinian as Lord Commander of the Imperial Legion,” he said. The crowd went wild when they heard that, whooping and cheering their local hero. Alicarius scanned the crowd and saw Serrio giving him a broad, approving grin. Even the man who seemed to be Hentius' second in command looked pleased.

Hentius scrambled to his feet, and seemed on the verge of tears.

“He'll ruin the Empire,” he said, somewhat petulantly. “He'll bring in war, and he'll ruin the entire thing.”

The man pouted in rage and stormed off. As he did so, Alicarius dusted his hands off and said the line he decided would be most fitting for the hero the crowd had decided he was.

“Well that's dealt with,” he said. “Who's up for a drink?”

This post has been edited by Colonel Mustard: Apr 27 2009, 09:20 PM

[Silver]

Update, update. Rah rah!

Just one little snippet that I noticed...

Alicarius placed the tip of his halberd on the cobbled ground of the square, and walked in a large circle. The scraping noise the adamantium made as it ground along the stone was painful to herehear, but Alicarius needed a public arena to defeat Hentius in.

Other than that... Bearucrats are losing, down with the red tape!

[Colonel Mustard]

Cheers for pointing that out Silver, I'll go fix it.

Thanks again, and remember; power to the people (or the space marines with the gigantic halberds and scary guns)!

Edit: Done!

This post has been edited by Colonel Mustard: Apr 27 2009, 09:25 PM

[Ahrenil]

Awesome, sauce. Alicarius always seemed like one who'd learn the rules word for word. Very well done Colonel, once again.

[Illydoor]

Hehe now that was a good update, you're very good at describing debate scenes as well as the combat parts Beany. It was great to see Alicarius in fist-fight and shows how stupid Hentius was to think he could beat a Grey Knight - Heck Hentius wouldn't have beat Alicarius if he was blindfolded with his hands and legs tied by his back .

There are a few errors in there like some typos and grammer errors that if I had the time, I would point out, however french revision awaits!

This post has been edited by Illydoor: Apr 27 2009, 10:16 PM

[Colonel Mustard]

Thanks for the comments you two.

Ahrenil: Well, Alicarius needs to know this stuff if he wants to run a garrison, doesn't he?.

Illy: Actually, both Hentius and Alicarius knew which way the fight was going to go, but Alicarius had him backed into corner where he had no choice but to accept.

Got to say, after writing that part I realised Alicarius would make a terrifying lawyer.

"Go on, sue Alicarius. We've got a morgue full of people who've tried to sue Alicarius!"

[Illydoor]

Ha I could imagine him now pacing the courtroom in a suit and a tie.

"So where were you on the night of the...wait what do I care I'm a frickin' Grey Knight!" *pulls out psycannon*

[Illydoor]

C'mon Beanie I'm waiting for the next part .

[Colonel Mustard]

Sorry Illydoor, I've been really busy recently. I'll see what I can get done.

Edit: Actually, 'fraid not. I'm having my time taken up working on a story, set 40 years after Oblivion, of absolutely epic proportions. Fortunately it'll be a standalone, so I can get back to Grey Knight after that.

This post has been edited by Colonel Mustard: May 31 2009, 03:22 PM

[Colonel Mustard]

And I finally get round to updating. I've been hit by inspiration, and soon things are going to take their own path.

A very, very different path.

Part 31-Dusk and Dawn

Alicarius spent the next few days in a whirlwind of activity, changing the legion and reworking it from the ground up. Soldiers were organised into squads led by sergeants. Certain members contained specialists such as marksmen, while the others were armed simply with rifles, swords and shields. Ten squads would form a company, led by a captain and each garrison would consist of three companies, with any troops left over to be moved to fotresses or cities where garrisons were under strength. Alicarius wanted Martin to inherit a realm that would have a viable army-no doubt many nations would be keen to dispute his claim to the throne and seize territory. Skyrim had just been the first to do so.

It was a hectic time, and by the time Alicarius had sent out orders, considered the logistics of his plan and threatened repercussions to a commander who refused to put through his plan. By the time his plans had been implemented, a week had passed.

“Message for you sir,” a legionnaire said, as he entered the barracks room where, but a week ago, Alicarius had comprehensively humiliated Hentius Annit. “From the Blades.”

The message was simple and curt.

Alicarius

Return to Cloud Ruler Temple as soon as you possibly can. Trouble has arisen.

Jauffre

Alicarius sighed as he saw the message. Yet another distraction from his duties. Still, Mehrunes Dagon was a threat to Tamriel. Even though a base had been purged, the cult probably had others scattered around to work from.

“Bad news?” Serrio asked. He had been appointed the commander of Chorrol's garrison almost immediately, and had taken to his job with the same gusto that he approached everything else.

“Letter from Jauffre,” Alicarius said. “He says there's been a problem and that I need to return.

Serrio frowned.

“He really love to keep you busy, doesn't he?” he said.

Alicarius nodded.

“It happens,” he said. “Thann!”

Alicarius' new right hand man, a redguard, turned to see what his commander wanted.

“There's something that has come up,” Alicarius said. “I'm needed at Cloud Ruler Temple.”

“Don't worry sir, we'll keep things sorted out while you're there,” his lieutenant replied. “There's no point in keeping Jauffre waiting.”

Alicarius nodded his thanks.

“I should be going then,” he said. “Get somebody to send a pigeon to Jauffre and tell him I'm coming.”

“I'll get on it sir,” Thann said.

“Good job,” Alicarius said. He grabbed his halberd and clipped it into the sling he had attached to his armour's power pack. “I'll be going then.”

#

After he had gathered together a few supplies for travelling, Alicarius set out on the long road to Bruma. The journey was uneventful, but he was delayed when came to the point where, not long before, he had done battle with Jsashe and her army. He paused as he saw the wide circled of freshly turned earth that lay just a few metres from the road, the grave for both the Nord and Imperial troops that had died in the battle.

With great care, Alicarius took a handful of large stones and piled them up in a small mound on the frozen earth next to the grave. Hopefully, if continuously topped up by travellers, this cairn would last long after the memory of the battle had been forgotten

After travelling a while longer, Alicarius finally reached the stone walls of Bruma. As he made his way through the town noticing a blacksmith's shop already proudly displaying a selection of muskets and pistols. Alicarius had had his doubts about allowing the powerful weapons to be sold, but he knew that if he didn't they would be smuggled and sold illegally in any case, proably within just a few weeks. As long as he kept the Legion's models as the most up to date then he was confident that Cyrodiil would remain the dominant military power.

He pushed the north gate open, savouring the feel of the crisp breeze on his craggy and scarred face. His helmet was stored in the backpack he had taken, and he now let the chilly air whip around his face. The walk up to Cloud Ruler Temple was quiet, his only company the wind blowing through the bare pines, but by the time he reached the fortress his face was becoming numb with cold.

As he approached the wall, one of the sentries spotted him and shouted down from his tower; “Who goes there?”

“Alicarius Justinian, Lord Commander of the Imperial Legion,” Alicarius said. “I have a meeting with Jauffre.”

“Heard you were coming, sir,” the sentry replied. “If you wait just a moment I'll have the gates open.”

The huge wooden gates rumbled open, their hinges groaning. Alicarius made his way through the huge stone portal, boots clanking on the frost coated flagstones.

“Mind your step sir,” one of the Blades called down. “The stones get very slippy when its frosty.”

“I will,” Alicarius said. He made his way up the steps, concious of the warning and avoiding the thicker patches of ice. He quickly made his way to the top of the steps, up to the main hall of Cloud Ruler Temple.

He pushed the doors open, and entered the main hall. After the biting cold of the outside, it was refreshing to be in the warmth again. He noticed Jauffre conversing with the Argonian, Walker-on-the-Water in a corner, and called out a greeting.

“Alicarius,” Jauffre said in surprise. “You arrived quicker than expected.”

“I can travel fast when I need to,” Alicarius said. “But that's beside the point. Have there been any developments on finding the amulet.”

“There have,” Jauffre said. “Both good and bad.”

“What's gone wrong?” Alicarius asked.

“Walker's been doing some excellent undercover work for us,” Jauffre said. “And we discovered that the Mythic Dawn has been spying on us, trying to gauge our defences. Walker managed to deal with them, but they have obviously recovered from the elimination of another base, and we're racing against time here.”

“So what's the good new then?” Alicarius said.

“Martin has managed to translate some of the Mysterium Xerxes,” Walker said. “We know one of the things we need to enter Paradise and retrieve the Amulet of Kings.”

“And what's that?” Alicarius asked.

“According to the Mysterium, the 'blood of the daedra,'” Jauffre said. “We think this is some kind of daedric artefact.”

“Why not simply use a piece of daedra made weaponry?” Alicarius said. “It isn't too hard to find.”

Jauffre shook his head.

“It's not that simple,” he said. “It needs to be something powerful and rare. Something made by one of the daedric princes.”

“And how am I supposed to get that?” Alicarius asked.

“There are various shrines scattered around Cyrodiil,” Walker said. “Secret places, usually, dedicated the worship of the daedric princes. If you find one and run an errand for the prince there, people are often rewarded with an artefact of some sort.”

“And you think I can get help from a daedra?” Alicarius asked. “Despite the fact that at least one of them is determined to destroy Cyrodiil.”

“The daedric princes fight and squabble amongst themselves all of the time,” Jauffre said. “They are fractional beings-one of them is bound to benefit from the downfall of Mehrunes Dagon.”

“So which one do you think I should appeal to?” Alicarius asked.

“I think our best bet would be Azura,” Jauffre said. “She has aided the empire in the past and I believe she may do so again.”

“So where can I find her shrine?” Alicarius asked.

“It's east of Bruma,” Jauffre said. “In the mountains. Be careful, will you? The passes can get quite treacherous now winter's setting in.”

“I'll be fine,” Alicarius said.

Little did he know, he would be wrong.

#

The wind whipped round Alicarius' helmet as he crested yet another hill. Fine and downy flakes built up against his armoured arm as he raised it against the wind, scanning for any kind of statue or temple, something that would show there was a shrine present.

There was nothing, only another valley, a gentle lee that was being slowly filled with snow. Alicarius sighed and trudged on, down into the valley.

And into a warm, sunny glade.

Alicarius gave a start of surprise as he saw the sudden change. He was standing on a carpet of grass. The valley was lined with rows of rose bushes, massive plants with flowers blooming a foot wide. Here and there, bobbing and dancing points of light rose from the ground, waltzing together lazily in midair.

One of them approached the space marine, softly rising and falling before coming to a halt before him.

“Approach, catalyst,” it spoke in a voice as soft as the sun hitting a lake. “Approach.”

Alicarius frowned at it in confusion, before stepping forwards. The light danced away, before stopping again, once more whispering; “Approach.”

Alicarius followed it, and he noticed more and more of the lights came, whirling and spinning around him in a corona of brightness. Despite himself, Alicarius smiled- there was something refreshing about the lights, something simple and joyful that left him feeling rejuvenated and reborn.

The lights led him onwards through the lush and green valley, a guiding halo that took him through the strange place to a statue. There were a few benches on the ground in front of it, and about half a dozen people waiting in a semicircle around.

As one, they saw him and turned.

“The catalyst comes,” one of them said. “Approach the statue, Grey Knight.”

They parted before his figure, the lights retreating to ring the strange congregation.

“You have come,” a voice spoke, laden with ancient power. “As was foretold.”

Alicarius frowned as he heard this.

“You have been expecting me?” he asked.

“I have,” the voice said. “At long last I meet Alicarius Justinian.”

“Who are you?” Alicarius asked, suspicion laden on his voice. “What do you want with me?”

“I am Azura,” the voice said. “Lady of dawn and dusk. And you, you are Alicarius Justinian. You are the Catalyst.”

[Colonel Mustard]

Part 32-Catalyst

“Catalyst?” Alicarius asked, confused by this sudden turn of events. “What is this catalyst you speak of? I have never heard of such a thing before.”

“You, commander,” Azura said, her voice seeming to echo with laughter. “You are the catalyst that we have hoped for for so long.”

“I do not understand,” Alicarius said. “What are you talking about?”

“Tell me commander, are you aware of what a catalyst does?” Azura asked.

“It's something that speeds up chemical reactions, isn't it?” Alicarius said. “So how does that relate to me?”

“You are our catalyst,” Azura said. “You are the one that shall bring our plan to fruition.”

“Plan?” Alicarius asked. “What plan is this?”

There was an incorporeal chuckle from the other side.

“There is so little you know of us, Alicarius,” Azura said. “Despite your ten thousand years of hatred and constant war, your Imperium is still blind to Chaos' true nature.”

“I know the nature of Chaos,” Alicarius said. “It is an evil thing, a plant that take roots in the hearts of men and strangles everything good and pure out of them, leaving nothing but a shell to be filled with your evil and their own selfishness desires.”

“And is the Imperium so different?” Azura asked. “Do they not simply destroy men and leave nothing but obedient and willing shells in their place, led on by some insane zealot? If you think about, the Imperium and Chaos are really not so different. Were it not for the small mindedness of your so-called 'God Emperor,' then the Imperium could have become so much more.”

“You lie!” Alicarius exclaimed, turning to leave. “I have nothing more to say to you.”

“Very well then,” Azura said mockingly. “You may leave. Allow your sheer stupidity to overwhelm you. Allow it to doom all of Nirn. By all means, go ahead.”

Alicarius stopped.

“What do you mean, doom Nirn?” Alicarius asked.

“You know very well what I mean. If you leave now, you shall never get the tool you need to stop Mehrunes Dagon.”

“Then give me what I need and I shall be gone,” Alicarius growled, voice dripping with hostility. “I will not bother you again.”

“Yet there is much I must talk to you about, catalyst,” Azura said. “There is much for you to learn, but you must listen.”

For a moment, Alicarius stood there, contemplating his options. He could try another shrine, run another errand for another daedra, but there would be less chance that the shrine's patron would be willing to listen. And as long as he got whatever artefact he needed then he could bear a conversation with a daemon. It wasn't as if if he had to listen to what it said-most likely it would be lying in any case.

“Very well,” Alicarius said after a moment. “I shall listen. But do not test my patients again. You cannot sway me to your servitude.”

“I am glad to hear that you see sense,” Azura said. “But allow me to start from the beginning. What do you know of the gods of Chaos?”

“There are four of them,” Alicarius said. “Nurgle, Khorne, Tzeentch and Slaanesh. How is this relevant?”

“And what do you know of their Greater Daemons?” Azura continued, ignoring his question.

“They are made from a small part of their god's essence,” Alicarius said.

“And what do you think we daedric princes are?” Azura asked.

“Daemons,” Alicarius snarled. “Of course.”

“I see you finally realise my nature,” Azura said. “While these people here worship me as a goddess, I am, in reality, nothing more than a slave to Grandfather Nurgle.”

“Nurgle?” Alicarius asked, sudden confused. Whenever he had fought the daemons of Nurgle or the Grandfather's worshippers they had been disgusting things, bloated and pustulant corpses kept alive only by the sickening will of their patron. This rich valley, blooming and vibrant with life and joy, seemed a far leap from the disease ridden creatures that he had always associated with the repulsive god.

“Indeed,” Azura said. “This is the one place that I have my freedom, away from his service. Here I can truly celebrate life in all its forms, but another channel for his creativity.[/i]”

“But how?” Alicarius said. “I have fought with Nurgle's creatures before. They are creatures of rot and despair that have no place in the natural order of things.”

“Alicarius, there is so little you understand,” Azura said. “Despite your years of fighting the Chaos Gods you know next to nothing of them.”

“Association with the enemy can only lead to assimilation by the enemy,” Alicarius said, quoting an old catechism.

“And so the Imperium blindfolds itself to any information that it could use for its gains, simply because it does not suit what it wants to see,” Azura said, amusement playing gently over her voice. “It strangles the life out of itself in its efforts for victory.”

“I warned you not to test my patience,” Alicarius said warningly. “Say what you must say, daemon.”

“The gods of Chaos are fractional and ever changing things,” Azura said. “Nurgle, for instance, may represent decay and rot, but he is an example of the bounteous joy of life itself. This valley here is but a shrine to him and his joy.”

“What are you trying to say?” Alicarius asked.

“I am trying to say that, despite your assumptions, we are not creatures of pure evil,” Azura said. “We are different, yes, but not as much as you might think.”

“What you say is blasphemy,” Alicarius growled, fingers clenching into fists.

“Is the truth blasphemous, simply because it contradicts the one you choose to believe?” Azura asked. “But tell me what you think of these Aedra you hear of. Surely you do not think of them as the creators of the universe, despite what many people here believe, do you?”

“I have never given the issue much thought,” Alicarius admitted. “But that is illogical. To suggest that they created this world suggests that they created the entirety of creation.”

“And indeed they did not,” Azura said. “The Aedra are nothing more than charlatans. They came before use, drew this world from the material realm and made it their plaything. They call themselves gods and lords and dress themselves in their fancy titles, playing their game and no knowing that soon it will end for them.”

“What do you mean?” Alicarius asked.

“We intend to topple the Aedra,” Azura said. “We will send them falling from their thrones. And you shall be our catalyst, the object that shall spur our plan into motion and give us the victory we desire.”

“Aid daemons?” Alicarius said, derision on his voice. “What foolishness is this? I hate your kind, if you have not forgotten, whatever mask of deception you wear.”

“I do not deceive you,” Azura snapped angrily. “I speak only the truth, Alicarius, whether you like it or not. Your choice in this matter has been determined. You will go onto the three trials and if you complete them or not is up to you. Should you do so, you shall become our catalyst, and aid us in overthrowing the Aedra.[/i]”

“I shall not help you,” Alicarius repeated stubbornly.

“But you do not understand, Alicarius,” Azura said. “By refusing to do so you shall doom Nirn to the Aedra's Harvest. There will be no hope for anybody upon this world unless you overcome the prejudice in your mind and step up to save this world like any true hero would.”

For a moment, Alicarius was silent, before saying; “You know what I came here for. I shall consider your offer if you let me have it.”

“Very well, catalyst,” Azura said. “I see that despite all the help we have given you so far, you refuse to help us. But if you wish to defeat Mehrunes Dagon then take this.”

In the air in front of him, three of the lights that had been dancing around their conversation coalesced into a single orb of light. The swirling ball of brightness took shape and definition, before finally coming to rest in the air in front of him as a crystal, shaped and carved to look like an eight pointed star. Gently and carefully, Alicarius took it from it from the air and held it in his hands, testing its weight. Even through his armour, Alicarius could feel it throb with warp energy.

“What is this?” he asked.

“It is known as Azura's Star,” Azura said. “You know the purpose I have given it to you for.”

“My thanks,” Alicarius said quietly. He turned from the statue, stowing the strange crystal within his backpack and leaving the strange valley behind.

Once again he climbed into howling winds and a flying curtain of snow, reducing visibility to just a few metres. He hurriedly placed his helmet back on and changed the view to heat-detection vision, throwing it into shades of dark green, but the sheer freezing cold of the flying snow mean that visibility was no better. He changed it back to normal-he was more familiar with it than he was with heat-detection.

He walked for a few minutes more, navigating his way through the whirling snow, while the sky above him sometimes rumbled with ominous thunder. He would have to find shelter-he didn't want to get caught out here in the middle of a storm.

He stopped when he heard a deep and throaty growl behind him. Must be a mountain lion of some sort. Very slowly and carefully, Alicarius turned and reached behind him, unclipping his halberd. He bought it into a fighting position and stepped forwards.

And that was when a scaled fist smashed into the back of his helmet.

Taken by surprise, Alicarius stumbled forwards, only to have another scaled and taloned hand grab him and deliver a powerful punch to his gut. Despite his armour, he felt the impact and gasped with shocked pain.

Something grabbed one his arms, wrenching his halberd out of his hand, and slammed its free hand down onto his skull. Stunned, Alicarius dropped to his knees, before another immensely strong arm grabbed his free arm. Before he could struggle, another series of percussive blows smashed into his helmet, slamming him into unconsciousness.

Their work done, the three daedroths picked up the unconscious Alicarius and dragged him towards the waiting gate to Oblivion.

[Illydoor]

A cool update, especially the interaction with Azura and the stoic Alicarius. I like how you represented the different views on 'good' and 'evil' from both perspectives.

One gripe I would have was that this part needed a bit more description I think, it was a more dialogue heavy post. Not much, just a few little words here and there just to describe to the reader where Alicarius is and what's happening whilst he and Azura are talking. Also there are some typos in there that you may want to just comb through, for example I think you used 'patients' instead of 'patience' at one point in the latest chapter.

Keep it up Beanbean .

This post has been edited by Illydoor: Jun 2 2009, 08:13 PM

[Colonel Mustard]

Damn, I'll fix those. Thanks for commenting though, and I'm glad you noticed the typos. I'm no good at those some times.

And I'm glad you saw the 'good and evil' thing there with the daedra. I thought for a minute of having Azura as the Eldar Goddes Isha (if you don't know the background, she was taken prisoner by Nurgle, and he keeps her as a sort of slave bride), but I thought that seeing as it was a pretty obscure piece of lore it would be a bit unfair on the readers who aren't too clued up on Warhammer.

Still, expect some serious evil in the next part...

Edit: Done!

This post has been edited by Colonel Mustard: Jun 2 2009, 09:34 PM

[Colonel Mustard]

And the muse is really flowing now. It also flowed in quite an evil manner for this part.

Part 33-Agony

“So you're finally awake,” a strangely familiar voice said, joy radiating from it. “I was beginning to get bored, you know that.”

Alicarius groaned as he came to, his skull pounding with pain. His shoulders ached, his arms wrenched up in the air, behind his back. He was leaning forward on them, held from falling over by thick iron chains.

He surveyed his surroundings with bleary eyes, trying to discern some details from the hazy blur of red around him, before a hand grabbed his cheeks and turned him face to face with a pair of bloodshot, maddened eyes.

“I'm over here,” their owner said helpfully.

Alicarius tried to pull away, but found he could barely move without igniting a flare of pain in his back.

“Now,” the eyes owner said, stepping back and revealing himself to be a dark elf. “I think we've met.”

Alicarius squinted at the elf, vision still throbbing with pain, before he realised he had indeed seen the elf before.

“You, you were with the Mythic Dawn, weren't you?” he asked. “Erna. But you're dead. I killed you.”

“Yes, then no, then yes again,” Erna said. “In that I was at the Mythic Dawn's little hideout, but I'm not part of that club of amateurs, and yes, you did kill me. Cut me in half. One of the most painful ways in which I've died, believe me. Bleeding out of a burn is not a fun way to go.”

“So why are you still here?” Alicarius asked.

“Why?” Erna said. “Because I'm one of the few true worshippers of Mehrunes Dagon left. The Mythic Dawn, pah, they didn't know anything. Mehrunes Dagon desires destruction, not people banding together to serve a common cause, even if it was in his name. Why, to do such a thing is an insult, if you ask me. Completely missing the point.”

“So you can't die?” Alicarius asked, gritting his teeth against the pain in his skull.

“That's right,” Erna said conversationally. “Found out, oh, about fifty years ago, I think it was. Maybe sixty, when I was going to the Ghostfence, you know, place in Vvardenfel. Got killed there. Can't really remember how, what with all the noise and confusion. Bloody painful though. Anyway, long story short, Lord Dagon noticed the little racket I kicked up, saw I was promising and restored me here in Oblivion to carry out his bidding in the mortal world. So if I ever get killed, I just appear back here after a while. Of course, I'm put in pain for failure, that's just common sense. Wouldn't want to take a gift like that for granted, would I?”

He paused for a moment.

“Oh listen to me, going on and on,” he said. “You're probably bored, aren't you? Here, let's get going. I've been lucky, being appointed Lord Dagon's personal torturemaster, and I might as well make the most of my time.”

He picked up a box from the floor and placed it on the table.

“I've got something special for you today,” he said. “I got a lift into one of your worlds you know, paid a visit to pick up some supplies from that Inquisition of yours. Very inventive bunch, they are, I must say.”

Erna opened the box and pulled out what appeared to be a whip, a thick band of flexible metal.

“Take this. Not just a whip but, oh, what was it that charming young woman called it again, oh yeah, an 'electro-flenser,” Erna said. “I just press this button here and look.”

Blue lightning played along the whip's length, sending it flailing and sparking madly.

“It even whips for you!” Erna said in childish delight. “Isn't that brilliant?”

He stepped behind Alicarius, the electro-flenser still active in his hand.

“Now, you're probably wondering why I'm doing this,” Erna said. “Well, Lord Dagon, in his infinite and eternal wisdom, has decided that he wants you on his side. Of course, just saying that is stupid, because you'd refuse, so it's my job to pursuade you. If you ever want the pain to stop, at any time, just say to me; 'I will serve.' I give you my word that I'll let you go. Now, let's begin.”

He drew his arm back and Alicarius' shoulders erupted into a whirlwind of pain.

#

It was a blur. A blur of agony, despair, cruelty and violence. Time became irrelevant, the days just becoming periods of when there was pain and when there was not. Erna's torture seemed constant, Alicarius lapsing into unconsciousness almost soon as Erna left the chamber.

The elf left not avenue unexplored-every part of his body was systematically destroyed within an inch of its durability, only left when Erna was sure that it could then heal for their next session. Runes were carved into his skin with scalpels, blasphemous symbols that burned against Alicarius' flesh. His left arm was stripped of skin, blood running down his arms, only to have stinging, burning chemicals rubbed into it. It healed, but became a mess of scar tissue, any runes scratched onto its surface refusing to heal, becoming permanent marks in his skin.

Dehydration and starvation began to take their toll, Alicarius' stomach filled with a gnawing hunger that he was unable to sate. He was not fed, and any water given to him was laced with something that overpowered his weakened and exhausted immune system, bringing on bouts of hallucinations. Electricity was pumped through his body, sending him spasming and twitching madly, his jaws gnashing together involuntarily.

“I'm impressed, you know, I really am,” Erna said. “You know how long it has been now?”

Alicarius shook his head. He couldn't talk. His tongue was swollen with thirst and he couldn't think coherently, not with the pain that was racking his body.

“Two weeks,” Erna said. “I've never had somebody hold on for so long. You just won't break, and I've got to thank you for that. I've never had so much fun.”

Alicarius groaned in reply.

“Got something to say?” Erna said. “You might as well say it. Lord Dagon's getting impatient. He's running into trouble over in Mundus now. He could use your help.”

“I...” Alicarius croaked.

“What's that?” Erna asked. “Go on, spit out.”

“I...will,” he gasped.

“Come on, come on, say it,” Erna cajoled.

“Not.”

Erna's face fell for a moment, before he grinned again.

“Well,” he said. “We'll see how long that lasts, shall we?”