Prologue:


Multiculturalism, they called it. A cosmopolitan society. This had been the policy of the previous Empires - the failed Empires. Like the mightiest great old tree, the Septim Dynasty withstood every attack from without, but rotted from within under the hideous weight of the corruption of religious tolerance. Witches, Daedra Worshipers, Necromancers and all manner of arcane perverts were allowed free reign to practice their ungodly experiments and heathen lifestyles openly. Under this flawed and pitiable system, a group of heretics and blasphemers called the Mythic Dawn assassinated the venerable but overly open minded Uriel Septim, Emperor of the latter days. After much devastation to the people and the beautiful lands the Divines have granted us, the foul Oblivion spawn were sent back into their rightful realm by the grace of Akatosh, working through the hero Martin Septim.

In the chaos and confusion left behind in the wake of this horrible subversive campaign, many monsters and villains appeared to further weaken the infrastructures of our glorious Faith. From the murky fog of history, Mannimarco reappeared to practice his foul craft upon Tamriel again. Thanks to the piety and firm hand of Traven and his successor, his dark soul was ripped from his heathen body for the last time, sent spiraling into the madness of Sithis where it can never harm the innocents again. As if this abominable and regrettable minor war weren't enough, soon after a wicked Ayleid demon by the name of Umaril returned from a long slumber to wage war against the Church itself. Pious and holy men and women were slaughtered like pigs by the unholy Aurorans of Meridia, and a group of Knights led by a mysterious Crusader appeared to vanquish the devil once and for all. It's a shame they were later found to be corrupt and evil themselves, but this story comes later.


Sadly, even in the wake of these tragedies and tests of Faith, a portal to a Daedric realm appeared right in the Illiac Bay and the Mages Guild and Legions did nothing to close it, relying on the strength of a lone hero instead. He entered this realm never to return, but the portal disappeared. In the mean time, the corrupt and godless Fighters Guild continued to grow in strength, and the evil Dark Brotherhood assassinated several loyal and pious servants of the Empire. The heathen followers of the Gray Fox dared to steal from those more worthy, and the unity of the Empire continued to crumble.

Our gracious and powerful Emperor rose from obscurity to combat these injustices and disrespectful transgressions against the Faith and the authority of Justice. A humble and gods fearing Colovian soldier, he quickly rose through the ranks of society to bring peace and order back to the land. With a firm but fair gauntlet he crushed the forces of corruption and apathy which stood in his way. During that glorious battle in which I rode into Imperial City with my Lord and 1000 of his finest soldiers, his eyes shone with inner light, and he cast unyielding flames from his palm of judgement. The traitor Ocato fell into a pile of ashes underneath a divine assault from the Emperor himself, as I ran through the heathen Council with my blade. As their black blood stained the marble floors of the chambers, my Lord took his rightful place as undisputed ruler of the land. There were still rebel factions hiding in the East and the mountains to the North to crush. I would enjoy acting as the sword of justice for Titus Mede.


From an early age I've been trained in all the most horrible and effective arts of war. A fully trained Battlemage and ordained Priest, I became a Crusader of Arkay and helped with the purging of the Necromancers under the successor to Traven. Later, I slaughtered an Auroran force attacking the chapel in Bruma. This cowardly sneak attack happened at the same time the Divine Crusader led his men into the depths to face the demon Umaril. My duties did not end there. I took a long Pilgrimage during which my connection to the Divines grew stronger. I began to read the teachings of Antonius Marcus, the man whom would become the Arch Bishop under the reformed Church. I began to study the theory that piety, not charity or works, was the only acceptable way to honor the Divines and that Cyrodill had become a nest of pagans and debauchery under the old ways. When Titus Medge charged out of the West in his early campaign against the Legions, striking fast and hard at strategic outposts, I was enthralled by his godly manner and his devotion to the Divines. The Arch Bishop, then outcast from the former, corrupt Imperial Church as a heretic, suggested I defect to Mede's faction with him to help pave the way for a more glorious era. And defect I did. Through hard work and punishment of heathens, I earned the future Emperor's trust and admiration and quickly rose to a position of military authority.


After the war, a glorious New Faith sprang from the scattered remnants of the old Chapels. I stuck the priests who preached false scripture up on stakes and set a fire in their flesh. I had become an extension of the Emperor's will and through him, a weapon for the Divines themselves. I was no longer a mere paladin. I had become the Grand Inquisitor of the Synod. The enemies of the New Order were everywhere. Daedra worshipers baldly practiced their pagan and unholy rituals beneath idolatrous statues in the forest. The so-called Mages Guild had become a nest of necromancers and godless heathens despite the best intentions of Traven. The followers of the false scriptures of charity, social justice and tolerance continued to operate in secret, teaching lies in basemants and caves across Tamriel. The Arch Bishop has absolved me of all my sins. I am free to bathe in their blood and wear their entrails around my body as trophies. I shall revel in this duty. I shall not suffer a single witch to live. This is the chronicle of my crusade - the Malleus Maleficarum. They will repent or they will die. While I've been told to strive for the former, I do enjoy the latter. I enjoy it very much. And rest assured, at the time of this writing, I have become exceedingly good at what I do.


Coming soon - Book 1 - Treating on the three necessary concomitants of witchcraft which are Heathen faiths, a witch, and the permission of the Almighty Divines.



Preview - Who are the enemies of the Empire? What is the nature of their deception? Where are they located, and how many are there? What is the Synod? Who is the Grand Inquisitor? What does the Law say about witchcraft? Keep your eyes and ears open for the first chapter of Book One in the near future. All these questions and more will be answered soon.

interesting. A murderous religious crusader telling people who to burn. I hope he kills elves. Gotta have your priorities straight.

Interesting

OOC: So would you guys be at all interested in seeing a continuation of this story? I posted the above as a teaser. I initially had debated between a fan fic or an RP. I've had several failed RPs in the past. I figured I wanted full control over a story, but feedback is still welcome. I'm not sure exactly what the full extent of this guy's insanity is yet. I haven't determined the extent of his racism or xenophobia. He does not tolerate vampires, daedra worshipers, necromancers, undead, or even followers of the Divines who preach liberal or cosmopolitan doctrines. He even considers the Knights of the Nine heretical and you will find out their fate very soon. It's appropriately reminiscent of what happened to the Knights Templar.

If I get a little more feedback I'll continue the story.

I, for one, would like to see this continue. Though I fear for the fate of the beast races with this guy around.

OOC: Unless they're heathens they don't have anything to worry about.

Maybe.

I like the setup, so if its well written, I will read it. Such realistic subject materiel is my favorite, as I always thought the empire would go xenophobic at some point. A little pointer would be to have the Summerset Isles Succeed from the empire, because Daedra worship is inextricably connected to their society. Or of course, you could have Cleansing the Summerset Isles be a main point for the inquisition to head up to.

OOC: I'm going to be using plot elements from the Infernal City novel. The Altmer have not openly rebelled from the Empire yet but the Aldmeri Dominion has returned and has been waging a shadow war against Cyrodill's government. This will play a part in my story. I can't promise it's going to be extremely well written because I'm not a very experienced writer. It is what it is. Just don't get your expectations too high and I think you'll enjoy this bloody little romp.


Book 1 - Treating on the three necessary concomitants of witchcraft which are Heathen faiths, a witch, and the permission of the Almighty Divines.

Chapter 1 - Porphyria Cutanea Tarda


The jowly old man dipped his writing quill into the small glass vial of ink on his desk and scribbled his signature at the bottom of the document he had been proof reading. In the candle light he looked old beyond his years, with deep lines around his eyes and the corners of his mouth. The tufts of white hair that remained around the sides of his head were curly but well maintained. He was obviously of Colovian stock. His hands, while old and fat, had the callouses and muscular memory of a dock worker or a soldier. He was dressed in the robes of a priest, although not the elaborate ceremonial ones he often wore at the pulpit when preaching damnation and piety. The hour was very late and his audience was considerably smaller than his usual flock. Only one other living soul was present in the dimly lit room, his younger but stern face hidden in the shadows of his thick red hood.

Arch Bishop Antonius Marcus looked up from the scroll into the shadows of the Grand Inquisitor's hood. "I understand your campaign against the Argonian rebels along the borders was successful, Brother Callidus?" While the older man was higher in rank than his pupil, both militarily and in terms of the Church hierarchy, the younger man's presence always filled him with a sense of foreboding and uneasiness. There were times, it seemed, when an intense heat emanated from his frame. The Inquisitor remained silent for a moment, and tapped his fingers together on the desk. "Would I be here had I not succeeded, Father?" he asked, flatly - perhaps a bit impatiently. "Of course..of course. Your prowess is well known to me, my son." The old man cleared his throat and continued. "This is, as you know, a legal writ excusing lethal force against your next suspect." The senior priest handed over the parchment to the younger man, who took it wordlessly and regarded the artist's rendition of the man. "He's just some old hunter." the Inquisitor sighed gruffly. "Couldn't you send a Knight of the Lamp or one of the Crimson League to handle this low level trash?"

The Arch Bishop sat up straighter and cupped his hands before him, regarding his top enforcer seriously. "No...I'm afraid I can not send someone less experienced to commit this arrest. Benunius Stantus may appear to only be a frail old man but intelligence indicates he is a powerful vampire who may have information about the Cyrodill clan's activities. As you know, it has long been suspected that the Cyrodill clan has infiltrated society to a larger extent than the layman would think possible. This creature is a former acquaintance of a Dark Brotherhood member, now deceased. That assassin was thought to be in possession of knowledge of a vampire living among the high ranking nobility of Cyrodill. It was long believed this secret died with the Dark Brotherhood assassin but it has recently been revealed to our informant that this old man, Stantus, was one of the vampire offspring of Vicente Valtieri. There is a chance, however small, that he knows some of the same secrets his master knew. He must be made to talk, or he must be destroyed and his belongings seized. The Synod has authorized his arrest or death. I place my trust in your methods as always."

Brother Callidus sat for a long moment, his fingers stroking his smoothly shaven chin, considering the details of his next mission. "County Bruma. I know it well. I'll need a new horse. The lizard people are savages, as you know. Their appetite for the nobler beasts disgusts me." His face turned into a hateful snarl under his hood. "A few may be educated - some may even learn the faith, but they must be acquired at a young age. Properly civilized. Trained like dogs. Even then I'd keep one eye on them at all times. But this man...this man I must now hunt. His kind disgust me the most. He was an Imperial once - a Nibenese fool but an Imperial nonetheless. To have fallen prey to the temptation of the bloodsvckers' disease... I hope he resists arrest." The tall man, wearing his red cloak over red armor, grabbed his halberd from the corner of the room near the door. He turned once more to regard the Arch Bishop. "I'll need some holy water and the usual vampire hunting kit I've designed. Have them delivered to my quarters by tomorrow evening. I'd like to request two Knights of the Lamp to accompany me. They probably won't be returning home."


Without another word or allowing his old mentor time to even respond, he swiftly left the room and strode powerfully down the corridor of the Imperial Palace. It was 3 in the morning. Nobody stirred except the palace guards, in their finely crafted armor. Only their eyes moved as he passed, considering him with awe and fear. Outside the high, arching windows of the palace corridor which wound downwards towards the palace grounds, snow fell in thick sheets. It was the dead of winter. A trip to Bruma this time of year was not what Brother Callidus had in mind. He would have preferred pursuing the Argonian savages deeper into the swamps of Black Marsh to this inconvenience - and yet, heresy was heresy. The teachings of the Synod were very clear on the topic of vampirism. "Unrepentant vampires who do not seek a cure are enemies of the Empire and must be executed or apprehended." And to think one of them may even be posing as a loyal retainer of the Empire. Unthinkable. Blasphemous. Revolting. And yet the Arch Bishop had never lied to him before. He would endeavor to get to the bottom of this mystery.


*********

Two days later, during the early morning hours, the Grand Inquisitor considered the magical and sanctified items that lay atop the unraveled knapsack before him. The usual phial of holy water was present, along with the cloves of garlic, and a finely crafted silver stake engraved with holy prayers from scripture. Healing scrolls and disease curing potions were also included in the kit, as was an expensive but powerful vial of Essence of Magnus, a liquid which mimicked the effects of sunlight. Brother Callidus was fond of using this as a torture device. He rearranged the items and tied the sack together again, rising from his kneeling position to slip on his fine Royal Guard armor and secure his cloak. Just as he was attaching the lapel of the Synod to the briast of his cloak a knock came at the door.

"Enter." he said without emotion. He would be careful not to become overly friendly with the Knights who would accompany him. They were expandable.

Two young men in their twenties entered, exchanging nervous glances. The Knights of the Lamp were outfitted with standard Legionnaire armor and blue hoods, which they removed upon entering. They carried only small satchels and were equipped with what appeared to be steel broadswords. "Your weapons, gentleman." The Inquisitor extended an armored hand. With some nervousness and clumsiness the two young men unsheathed their short swords and handed them to the paladin. He considered the blades in the morning sunlight, turning them over, inspecting their sharpness. "Silver, not steel. Good. At least you're properly equipped, if not properly trained." He tossed the swords back to the two young Knights.

"Sir..if I may, Sir..we are fully trained Battlemages, Sir." the braver of the two spoke. He was a bit older than his partner, and wore his hair in a military crew cut. He had the chiseled, handsome features of an athlete and the boyish enthusiasm of a patriotic soldier. "Are you indeed?" the Inquisitor asked, raising one eyebrow skeptically. "What was the extent of your training, soldier?" The young man snapped to attention. "Five years in the War College, Sir. My companion has four." "And your field experience.?" "Well...you see..." "Have you ever killed an actual vampire?" "I've completed my psychic simulations with a 96% success rate...my partner has a -" "I didn't ask about stupid mentally projected atronachs meant to resemble vampires. I'm talking about a life or death situation, boy. I'm talking about a remorseless and ancient foe who eats wet behind the ears recruits like you for breakfast and defecates you out again. Are you ready to die for your country, son? If not I suggest a safer line of work. Gardening perhaps."

The two young recruits lowered their heads. "Well?" he repeated. "Do you understand the risk? You will very likely not survive this mission. It is not my intention to baby sit or hold your hands. If you die, you die. I expect you to be useful, obedient and capable of keeping up. If not, stay out of my way."

"Yes, sir." they mumbled. The younger recruit bit his lip and it almost looked as if he would cry. His blonde hair was medium length and oiled back in a style popular among the middle classes. His fair complexion and weak looking hands implied that he was the son of a nobleman or a high ranking officer - a boy used to being coddled. The other one was a little rougher around the edges - a little hardier. The Inquisitor suspected the blonde would die first without much of a fight and that the older boy with the brown stubble on his head would outlast him. He had been wrong before, however, but he still thought of himself as a pretty good judge of character and ability and he didn't see much of a future for blondie.

"Let's go. Keep the small talk to yourselves. You will keep up or you will be left behind." Brother Callidus swiftly mounted his black steed and grabbed the reins, spurring his horse into an immediate fast gallop. His two companions mounted their own steeds and followed. As Callidus approached the city gates and the guards began to open them for him, having been notified in advance, his mind wandered back to his own days as a young recruit...

********

TO BE CONTINUED: Up next - What is Brother Callidus' past? What perils await our group in County Bruma? What information does the vampire Stantus possess? Will the Knights of the Lamp survive this journey to tell the tale? Who is the vampiric lord hiding amongst Imperial nobility? Many questions have been raised and the future is uncertain. Stay attentive, dear reader. Anything could happen.

Great Stuff, Hairdo.

I can see he enjoys he's work. The violent bits, yes. Something about the way he thinks makes me assume he's a collosal pervert, and that there is no form of depravity too low for himhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rBhTIoIXoTI Animal. Vegetable. Mineral. He'd do anything to anything. Fine principles for a bishop. It is nice to hear the church speaking out for a change of social issues. He kills, he maims, he fornicates, but as far as his flock is concerned, his only vice is a little timple before evensong.

"BEND OVER BLACK ADDER!"

NIce , the guy is a bit racist but hey , at least he isn't making slaves of people.....at least not yet.
I like the story continue .

"My poor bretheren, killed off by this so called "Brother". And the way he speaks of our people! I'd take pleasure in silencing him!"

So says Sliver-Tongue. Please, continue.

OOC: Been busy. Working on ideas for next chapter though.

edit: A little audience participation/feedback.

Spare the wussy battlemages or not? Also, would you prefer to see Brother Callidus on a constant crusade as a front line warrior against what he perceives as the forces of Evil, or would you like to see more politics and slow chapters as well?