The Prologue


He stared at the armor the Cyrodiilian Sect of the blades used. Kalarn sighed in the privacy of the empty Cloud-Ruler Temple, "I was in Vvardenfell, watching the rebuilding of Ald'Ruhn when this happened, I failed to protect them from the mad Champion of Cyrodiil."
"
The life had been extinguished from these halls, twenty-five year ago, after the Oblivion Crisis was just ended. Jauffre, Baurus, Steffan, they all fought for their lives, and for the blades in these halls," he thought.

The temple had been ransacked, this was Kalarn's ceremonial armor he stared at. He looked at the most recent Black Horse Carrier, labeled, "The Guilds of the Empire" He sat down and looked at it, "The guilds are in ruin, the fighters' guild is in a struggle for power with Master Oreyn Bearclaw recently slain, with no champion to take his place. The Mages' Guild is in a civil war, the loyalists, including Arch Mage Raminus Polis are seeking to keep the guild the way it is, House Mora, the rebels are seeking to create a portal to Haermaeus Mora's realm and read the libraries. The Late Oreyn Bearclaw succeeded in destroying the thieves' guild, before he was slain by the Dark Brotherhood. The Religious Orders are trying to keep stability in this time, but, it is not working, the fighting will not stop, the death will not end. Read more, next time."

Kalarn looked at the paper for a second as he thought, "I shall rebuild the blades, by recruiting more as I put order back into the Empire. May Talos watch over me as I fight in his name." He took off his monk robe and put on some tan linen pants, a leather vest, and some work boots. He put the blades armor on the shelf and said, "To all my brethern who watch over me, I will revive the order, I swear it."

He walked out the gates and was prepared to journey out into the cold, until he felt the burning cold. Kalarn fled inside and looked around for something of warmth, luckily he found a dead adventurer, with some fur clothing. A grin spread across his face as he grabbed the furry clothing and adorned it. He shed a tear as he looked at the old, stone, building that used to house the ancient Order of the Blades. Kalarn walked out the door, ready to journey off to Bruma and get transportation to the Chorral to speak to someone with some leadership in the fighters' guild.

Great line, I wish you had expanded on that, sounds interesting!

This, dear Zalphon, is the best you've written so far. Enticing, mysterious, compelling. :goodjob:

Leaving Cloudruler

As Kalarn walked out the door a second time, the chill was lessened, and a grin spread across his face. He looked back and said, "Farewell, brothers, friends, mentors, I shall not let your memory be forgotten."

The grin was replaced by a frown as he walked in the snow. He had a silver shortsword at his belt, ready at a moment's notice, however the harsh blizzard was making it more and more difficult to even touch due to its extreme lack of heat. Kalarn saw a light in the distance. "An imperial guard, I can have him give me directions," he thought cheerfully. He ran over with joy filling his veins. As his boots trudged through the icy snow, he got closer and closer.

He heard a shout, a raspy, deep voice, "Come over here, Traveler."

"All right," he yelled back suspiciously. As he ran back he saw their faces better, an orange-furred khajiit in leather armor with an iron bow. An imperial in iron armor with a steel clayemore. And a dunmer with piercing red eyes in a suit of armor worn by the Cyrodiilian sect of the blades, on his back was an akaviri dai-katana. The dunmer barked, "Come closer."

Kalarn obeyed the order and walked closer to the dunmer. The khajiit had a wide, toothy, grin as he hissed, "The prey approaches, what shall we do?"

The dunmer smiled as he grabbed Kalarn and barked, "J'skuva, take his bag and his fur, leave him with some clothes."

The khajiit nodded and took the bag and forced Kalarn to undress and hand over the fur.

The Imperial glumly told Kalarn, "Sorry, I have no choice, I work for this man, he paid my bounty."

Kalarn felt a spiraling despair as he was left in the snowstorm with nothing, but a bergundy outfit. He trudged through the snow, it burned his feet as he was only wearing sandals now. Tears were in his eyes as he said to himself, "I will do this, for Jauffre, for Baurus, for Caius, for all of them." He collapsed in the snow as the elements finally caught up with him.

Well, this is certainly a fine change. A bit short, but that is perfectly alright. The first section is certainly the best I've seen you write, so grats there. It seems like a bit of an info-dump, but I suppose that's alright. At least we get some descriptions this time.

The second part was a tad bit of a backslide, but it was still decent. I want to comment on that your dialoug is still a little rough. It seems more like a recitation of things rather than a conversation.

The Brumaran Mage

Kalarn awoke in a blanket and some soft, silken, robes. In front of him sat a young woman, in the small bruma house. She smiled at him and asked, "You all right?"

He responded, "Yes, who are you?"

"Nobody, just a novice mage, those robes you're in are my dress robes, try not to get too dirty all right," she sighed.

The woman pulled back her hood and revealed she was an imperial. Kalarn asked with curiousity, "Why'd you save me?"

She stood up for a second and looked at the stone hearth, then outside in the window. As she walked over to the window in her tattered gray robes, she said, "We all deserve a second chance."

The dunmeri blade looked at her and sighed, "Not I, not I, I failed my duties and deserve little more than a blade in my stomach."

The fire crackled with heat immenating from it, warming Kalarn slowly, but his guilt was still heavier than a daedroth. The mage frowned as she handed him a glass of Surrile Brother's Wine.

"Hardly, you can't be worse than I."

"Oh, but I can be."

She stared distantly at the doorway to her bedroom and told Kalarn, "Do you want to know, how it can be?"

He nodded an affirmative. She opened the door with a key and showed Kalarn a book, a black-leather covered book with no title. She sighed, "It is required that all members of House Mora have this book, and I didn't want to join, but my older brother joined, and I never wanted to fight him. If you need connections to Mora, I guess I am your girl."

Kalarn nodded and asked, "Can I have some pants, a shirt, and some boots?"

She grabbed some clothes out of her wardrobe and handed them to him; he put them on and handed her the robe. He said to her, "Farewell, Sera."

She responded as he walked out the door into the cold of Bruma, "Farewell, Sera."

This last chapter is the best so far, your writing is definately improved! I was left wanting to read more!

Any more comments?

Off to Chorrol

The cold snow fell on Kalarn, but he shrugged it off as he managed to wonder to the Mages' Guild. He crept into the door and seen some mages talking in blue robes. The dunmeri blade looked around the log-structured guild hall and asked, "Where can I find the teleportation mage?"

One of them responded, "The basemant, shes an altmer with a snobby attitude, but she'll get you where you need to go."

Kalarn nodded in thanks and wondered down the wooden stairs. He opened the large wooden door and entered a square room. Mages were sparring, casting spells at each other while the others cast absorbion spells. The dunmer walked to the left avoiding the balls of flame, lightning, and frost coming at him and found a wall which was short and looked like it led to another room. He walked there and seen a star surrounded by a circle and candles. Standing next to it was an altmer who hissed, "Tell me what you want or go away."

He responded, "Teleportation to Chorral."

The altmer stuck out her hand, "fifteen gold."

"Fifteen gold, thats rediculous," Kalarn barked.

The mage sighed and told him oncemore, "Fine, then leave, either that or pay me."

Kalarn pulled out a netch-leather bag the size of his fist filled with septims. He opened the bag and dumped the coins in her hand.

The mage asked with curiousity, "Ever been teleported before?"

"When I did skooma," Kalarn lied.

The mage muttered some words under her breath and Kalarn was in the Chorral Mages' guild, with a bunch of angry mages shouting, "Are you House Mora?"

He shook his head and asked, "Why?"

"We're in a civil war," the leader responded.

Kalarn walked past them and stated, "Farewell."

The leader cast muttered a spell and Kalarn was burdened by what felt like a thousand pounds. The leader hissed, "Not so fast, Spy."

wonder = wander

wondered = wandered

Chorral = Chorrol

seen = saw

The Mage Wars

The golden-skinned altmer leader barked, "So a spy has come here..."

"No, never," Kalarn lied.

One of the many mages gathering around shouted, "Sear his flesh."

The altmer hissed, "Silence, Fool, that is the way of House Mora, we're mages, not hedge-wizards."

He asked, "Why do you think I am a Moran?"

"We trust none who enter our halls except those we know and are loyal, this guildhall is barricaded off from the rest of Chorrol, for a reason."

The wooden boards on the floor creaked as I stepped closer to the altmer. The mages watched me suspiciously, ready to end my miserable life if I should attack. Kalarn told him, "We shall duel, if I win I may exit, peacefully."

He responded, "If you lose, your punishment will be death."

The mages walked with us down the stairs into the main floor. The altmer muttered under his breath and weightless armor that Kalarn had seen far too much during the crisis appeared on me. Daedric, along with a longsword in my hands and a tower shield in his left arm. The same appeared on the altmer who stated, "Unlike Morans, we fight fair."

No mages spoke a word as the altmer shouted, "I am a battlemage, and plan to show you my wrath."

The first spell was muttered and all mages were silent...

Your first two chapters looked good, and then you slipped back into almost entirely dialogue filled one line chapters. I'm not liking that, I have to say. As I've said before, you need to fill things out more. Provide more information.

Still, this is probably the best I've seen you write thus far.

The Duel

The bound blades clashed, unleashing a scratching sound, an agonizing sound. They clashed blades for several minutes, each strike made another screech.

Kalarn pleaded, "Stop this, I beg you."

The altmer replied with silence and muttered under his breath. Kalarn stood there, paralyzed, and the altmer swung his blade into the stomach of Kalarn. Kalarn fell to his knees and removed his helmet. His skin turned a light, deathly, gray, a pool of a red, thick, liquid surrounded him.

The altmer questioned, "What happened, why is this dunmer on the floor?"

Kalarn tried to reach for him as he said, "Help m---"

The battlemage reached down and muttered under his breath. A bright light appeared and the color returned to Kalarn's skin. Kalarn asked, "Why'd you do that?"

The altmer responded, "I don't know, a frenzy spell I think, I am Eldrafrost."

A mage pulled back his hood and charged forth with a dagger, Eldrafrost muttered under his breath and the mage was burdened by a thousand pound invisible weight. The mage was muttering prayers, to Sithis...

Now that is better! You must have just been having a bad night on that one chapter, now you are getting back to what I know you can do!

I will stick heavy dialogue in heavy chapters (like 2-3 pages on MS Word so it has plenty of description)

Sorry to you guys, but I won't be doing a FO fanfiction, for I am too busy with this one...

Is your FO fanfic on FO3? If so, I'd like to read it some time after I finish my story - I can't think about FO3 till that is completed or it will mess up my ability to write about Oblivion - and in my FO game I was left stuck in MZ, couldn't pass the final battle scene. (which is why I started another Oblivion game, lol)

Well, Malx, I am running an RP over there (idea form now, give it a week or so then it will be signup), about some tamriellians or wander into a portal which leads to the Capital Wasteland.

Oh how interesting! I just can't think about the wasteland or won't be able to write about Cyrodiil, the main reason why my FO3 character is still stuck in the control room of that space ship, lol.

Assassins

Kalarn grabbed the assassin and asked, "Who are you?"

The assassin stood there praying still. His eyes were filled with fear, he had eyes of a youth, probably an adolescent. His eyes were wet with tears as he said, "Please, don't hurt me, you don't understand."

The altmer put his blade to the boy's throat and hissed, "Give me a reason not to."

The dunmer barked, "Because, he can help us find some information."

The boy's tears ran down his face and onto the floor as he explained, "My father died twenty-five years ago in the crisis, my mother is ill, and we need money, please, don't hurt me."

Kalarn kneeled on one knee for a second or two and thought, "I can't let this kid get killed, I'll take him with me."

The blade said, "I'm taking the boy."

The Altmer nodded.

The two walked out of the doors into Chorrol, the stone buildings were large, castle-like. The guards stood watching with suspicious eyes, some were old enough to be veterans of the crisis, others were young. They needed supplies if they were to get very far, and they walked into the smithy's shop.

The smith was not present, but the Chorrolian guards were. One said, "Come back tomorrow, Morvayn is ill today."

Kalarn sighed as he walked out the door, the sun was setting and he said to the boy, "Lets get a room at the Oak and Crossier inn." They walked for several minutes and reached the tavern and inn. Kalarn put forty gold on the counter and said, "Two rooms."

The innkeep smiled, "Upstairs, room in the middle and the right."

The two walked upstairs to their rooms, finally sleep would come. The inn creeked as they walked, the place smelled of cheap wine, and the music the bards were playing was amateur, but sleep would come easily, for he was tired.

I see a time line discrepancy or a happy milkman. If the boy is an adolescent, how can his father have died 25 years ago?

I like the rest of it though!

elf adolescent...

Oh, they grow slower, don't they? Sorry Zalphon!

The Champion of Cyrodiil

Kalarn tossed and turned throughout the night, having nightmares of his time in the Oblivion Crisis, watching Ald'Ruhn get destroyed, fighting to save Vivec, coming to the Cloudruler Temple only to discover all his friends and mentors were dead. When he awoke he found a note on his nightstand, which read, "Thanks for the help, but I have to go."

He sighed as he sat up, the wooden walls were beginning to smell of alcohol, the bard was missing notes left and right, the patrons were arguing. Suddenly, dead silence came. Kalarn put on his clothes and looked around. They were all either dead or unconsious. Standing in the center of the room was a large imperial, in daedric armor, holding Umbra and a daedric tower shield. "The champion is here, now we will fight, I will kill him or die," Kalarn thought.

The champion hissed, "You are the last of the blades, I expected a little more."

Kalarn barked back with rage in his voice, "You killed them, N'wah, why?"

The Champion grinned a ghoulish smile, "They would not obey me, Sheogorath, the god of madness."

Kalarn grabbed a sword and charged at the Champion, attempting to impale him. The imperial laughed as he grabbed Kalarn by his right arm and threw him across the room. The Champion walked over and quoted, "Some words of a man I killed many years ago, 'You're going to die in here.'"

Kalarn looked up and seen a bolt of white-hot flame coming to his face. The pain was agonizing, but only for a second, as he lost consiousness...

I am interested to find out more about the mad champion of Cyrodiil - sorry it took so long to read, I was working like mad on the last two chapters.

The Nerevarine

Kalarn awoke on a cold, ebony, table. Standing next to the blade was a man dressed in a black robe with a black hood covering his eyes. He had a dark gray skin. The robed man raspily said, "Champion, come here."

The Champion walked over and kneeled, he stated, "Yes, Milord."

Kalarn watched the two, the robed man had control over the champion. The Champion asked, "Milord, what is your command?"

The robed man commanded, "Stand guard at the door," he pointed to the stone door in this room. The man pulled back his hood, his flesh was rotting, his breath smelled of rotting flesh, his eyes were milky-red. The man was a lich, a dunmeri lich... The Champion walked over to the large stone door. Kalarn asked, "Who, or what are you?"

The lich responded, "Prophecy said I was born to uncertain parents, on a certain day, that I would unite the ashlander tribes and the great houses of Morrowind. I succeeded and slew Dagoth Ur, left for Akavir, however I turned back and went into hiding. I spoke with Mannimarco himself, talked Zurin Arcturus, the King of Worms, learned from great necromancers. Mistress Dratha a necromancer of House Telvanni knew a thing or two about necromancy, and I learned her knowledge."

Kalarn nodded, watching in awe. The lich continued, "I ended my own life, just like the tribunal ended mine, eons ago. However this time I became immortal, I am a lich, the most powerful lich to ever walk Tamriel, save Mannimarco. The champion thinks he is Sheogorath, however he sees me as a servant named 'Haskill,' but I am really controlling him, he has gone mad, but I can control him. I used him to kill the blades, all of them, except you Kalarn. Would you like to know why?"

The liches rotting flesh was beginning to get worse as it burned Kalarn's nostrils, but he nodded an affirmative. The Nerevarine smiled, "Kalarn, I have seen things unimaginable, fought great villains, and I have seen the threads of time and fate. You, Kalarn, shall help me protect Tamriel, I am its watcher, and will be forever. The Septim Empire used me. Ocato will take over and watch over the empire, while you perform a task for me."

The Champion glared at Kalarn, but the lich added, "They won't I had him kill them all, for the good of the Shivering Isles, however I need you to put the guilds back in order, and recreate the blades, like they once were, spies, for the empire, not the emperor. Once the guilds are back in order, Ocato will die, and I will make sure you get the position, of course that is after the blades are reformed, so the empire can survive. Do you understand?"

Kalarn bobbed an affirmative, and asked, "How long do I have?"

The dunmeri lich frowned, "The sooner the better, now you shall take your leave, which assignment will you complete first, and don't forget the thieves' guild must be reunited as well as the Dark Brotherhood."

The blade sighed, "I shall work on the mages' guild, send me to the arcane university."

The lich muttered under his breath and Kalarn was standing in the middle of the arcane university. The place had expanded, and taken much more space now. It was the equivalent to a town, hundreds of buildings were around, and a plethora of mages were all around...