mALX has read my stories for a very long time, and I would like to write a story for her and loved the story of Zalphon so here you go mALX. This is dedicated to you.

Prologue

Ten years before the Oblivion Crisis. A hero is in the making, but will he live up and actually be the hero the people have dreamed of to get rid of the outlanders? Or will he be the one to help the few settlers of Vvardenfell prosper and succeed in making forts and building cities? The fate of Vvardenfell lies on his shoulders. The Great Houses fight each other viciously as a war over which will be the dominant house on the island. Which house will be dominant? The xenophobic Redoran? The friendly Hlaalu? The anti-social Telvanni? Time will tell, the threads of fate are being woven...

Zalphon stood there in his gleaming steel armor. It was polished by his house slave, Quick-Strike. His long dark hair fell to the pauldrons of the platemail. The ebony skin that covered his body was free of blemishes. As he walked down the stairs, his white cape flowed elegantly. "I desire a kwama egg, a loaf of bread, and a vial of scrib jelly, Slave," he shouted. His voice was hoarse from breathing ash for since he was born, it hurt to talk, but he didn't mind.

Suddenly came an argonian with glimmering metal bracers on each hand and rags to cover his body with a bag of food. The lizard-like humanoid grabbed a plate out of the many cupboards of Broodikus Manor and layed it on the table. Next he sat a fork, a knife, and a spoon near it with a bottle of flin. "Master, is this acceptable," the lizard-man mumbled.

The Dunmer drilled into the egg and spooned out the sweet yolk and nodded. Then he spread the scrib jelly on his bread and devoured it. Soon after he gulped down the bottle of flin and walked out the door. However as he walked, he called, "I expect a bottle of flin on the table, roasted nix-hound meat, and you may have the table scraps, so make it good." The dark elf's voice was harsh as he spoke with a false sense of arrogance.

The steel-clad man waded through the crowd of Balmora, the natives smiled at him and even greeted him with sincerity. He was a hero amongst the people. The man had fought tooth-and-nail in the unofficial slave revolution. Zalphon was on his way to the Temple, after breakfast he would pray and leave a donation. As he trekked up the stairs, he saw the circular temple and pushed open the door. The priests grinned to see him as he kneeled and chanted under his breath. The Dunmer reached into a soft velvet pouch and pulled out ten drakes for the shrine. Then he walked out.

Sprinting through the archways of Balmora was a messenger. It's gender couldn't be discerned from the distance, but it was a khajiit in faded gray robes and a hood. On it's back was a staff made of the black-gold, ebony. It called out, "Hail to all, the half-troll would like to speak." Suddenly the catman pointed to thin air. The people scowled with irritation, a pathetic khajiit who has gone mad speaking? It was an outrage.

"The imperials are coming to Vvardenfell, planning on building outposts and forts here," he shouted. "You've been warned by J'skooma." His voice was too deep to be that of a female. Hastily, Sir Broodikus rushed over to the khajiit. It had an orange fur with black stripes and lemon-yellow eyes.

"What do you mean imperials are coming," he asked. "This is a Dunmer, and only Dunmer district of Vvardenfell." The Knight had his fingers firmly around the hilt of his sword, ready to cut into the khajiit if neccesary. Two thugs walked over, they were Camonna Tong, the local crime sydnicate.

"This fur-ball bugging you, Sir," one asked. "We can shave him, if you'd like." Zalphon shook his head, and they backed off. His eyes looked around Balmora, the green-brown buildings turning into the gray-stone buildings of the imperial city.

"They're coming, be warned."

"Noted, perhaps I won't have those thugs come back for you later."

The Dark Elf walked towards his manor, ready to have his mid-day meal...

What's this? Wrote a story for a young lass, hm?:wub: Sarcasm aside, I liked it. Of course, there were some problems, but I'm Writing this on PlayStation, so I can't go into heavy detail. I hope to see more.

Shadow, she has been here cheering me on all the way through, on these forums and is helping me with a personal problem.

Oh, now I feel bad. If it means anything, I'm sorry .

Bah. I can never read your stories because they take place in Morrowind.

Bleh.

Chapter One: The Imperial Legion

Zalphon walked to his manor. As he moved the armor clanked making irritating sounds, but it was covered up by the many warm greetings he got. "Hmm, that khajiit, if what he says is true may be of use to me," the Dunmer thought. The Knight shoved open the door and sat at his table. There his nostrils were intruded by the scent of seasoned nix-hound meat, two small kwama eggs, and a bottle of the taste-tickling flin.

For several minutes he consumed his meal, leaving little bits of fat, a bit of the milky kwama egg-white, and a few drops of flin. The argonian looked at him and then bit into the fat and ate the egg-white. The flin he dumped out and started to wash the dirtied dishes in his drinking water and used sload soap. "Was it okay, Master," he asked.

"Yes, it was fine... Slave," the Knight hissed in response. Finally he stood up and looked out the window. A company of imperial troopers was marching into Balmora. The denizens stood still in awe and disgust. The Hlaalu Guards saluted. Then out in front of them came a man, older than most of soldiers.

He shouted loudly, "I am Knight of the Garland, Varus Vantinius, we're here to protect and defend Vvardenfell from any threats, we'll begin building garrisons within the month. If you have any questions, speak to Duke Vedam Dren in Ebonheart, our main garrison." The Imperial was diplomatic, for he won a few hearts that could be seen, but Zalphon didn't like him or his emperor.

The khajiit whispered, "Perhaps J'skooma can help you get rid of the imperials?" The Dunmer let out a deep sigh and nodded, he wouldn't like it, but he'd work with a fur-ball. Together they walked towards his manor, blood would be shed in defense of Vvardenfell, even if it had to be his...

Zalphon this is Awesome!! You totally ROCK!! I was busy all day and missed seeing this, I am so glad you PM'd me about it! You know Zalphon is my fave of all your characters, I appreciate so much your dedication in the prologue!!

First, I commend you for dedicating this to mALX. I know she has been a steadfast source of encouragement and support for your writing. :goodjob:

Now, I must confess a couple challenges. You know I am an 'Oblivioner' so Morrowind stories have an uphill climb with me. Secondly, you also know I like stories that are 'character driven'. By starting and abandoning stories in a rapidfire fashion, I hesitate to become attached to any of your characters. I suppose these are my problems, not yours, but I share them with you nonetheless.

Your actual writing continues to improve. Let me just pick, in some detail, on one sentence from your chapter one. Here I am offering style considerations, not really grammar points. Please ignore, if they do not suit your purpose.

I will eventually recommend completely rewriting this passage, but let me pick at it some first:
- I would place a comma after there. That is, if there is necessary since he is already seated at the table.
- Having one's nostrils intruded sounds like a painful metaphor that does not work for me.
- What do small eggs and a bottle of flin smell like? - for apparently their scents also intruded. The meat having a smell for sure, the eggs maybe?, the flin no way.

I would recommend you take a look at this, and see if it does not meet your intent a little more smoothly:

The savory aroma of seasoned nix-hound meat wafted up to his nostrils. Two small kwama eggs were nestled on his plate by the meat, and a bottle of taste-tickling flin awaited his silver goblet.

Happy New Year Zalphon!

About me doing rapidfire, it's always that way for a few stories after I finish one. But this one I will stick to. It is basically one of my original stories with better description and writing (Wow, I am a modder, I am modding my story to have better graphics and neater quests!)

Chapter Two: House Redoran

Zalphon finally reached the manor, with J'skooma right behind him. He pushed open the door and hissed, "I will make you an offer, Quick-Strike, I will free you if you join my cause." The Argonian stared at him for a couple minutes, his breath had been taken by the amazing offer.

"What is it," he asked. There was a smile on his face, and that was extremely rare for Argonians. The Beast-Man was curious though to what might his cause be.

"We're driving the imperials from Vvardenfell," he stated. "However it will take some work in House Redoran, but I assure you the rewards will be great for your servitude."

Characteristically J'skooma's face lit up with excitement, ready to help. Quick-Strike put out his slave-bracered hands and said, "Fine... Zalphon." The Dunmer inserted the key in the lock and turned it. Suddenly the magical bracers fell to the floor making a silent sound.

"Get your packs ready and lets go, we're headed for Ald'Ruhn." The trio started to shove food, drink, clothes, and other things in their large netch-leather bags. Several minutes later they were finished, but his manor was missing his entire wardrobe, his food supplies, and for some reason J'skooma took a chopped piece of Mushroom Tree from the basemant. They started to walk past House Hlaalu's Council House and down the stairs to the silt strider.

When they reached the silt strider, Quick-Strike calmly said, "Ald'Ruhn," as he pulled fifty drakes out of the pants he was wearing. They climbed into the large flea-like creature and prepared to wait...

The journey was long and boring. They quickly grew bored of telling stories, except J'skooma who told the most whimsical tales either of them had ever heard. The hallowed out shell of the silt strider was lined with a fine hair that caused the Dunmer to scratch a lot. "House Redoran can help me, they will help me," the Knight thought confidently.

The beast came to a halt and there they were, Ald'Ruhn. In the middle of the ashlands, there was an ashstorm that as soon as the Dark Elf stepped out was pelted with small grains of sand and ash. The former slave and mage didn't really mind it, they must've been used to abuse. They walked down the large stairs and headed for the Ald'Ruhn Manor District, ready to join House Redoran and rise the ranks...

I am hoping you will stick with this and develop Zalphon's character and story.

You are off to a fine start. You are, so far, creating a somber, mission-focused feel to the story, with plenty of atmosphere-enhancing descriptions.

A couple minor things:


I'm no expert on speech tags, but I would use:
"What is it?" he asked.
Perhaps this http://mrbraiman.home.att.net/page25.htmlwill help.



To be consistent with UESP and your own writing, I would capitalize Imperials.



let's


I found this sentence awkward and grammatically incorrect. I will leave it to you for possible concurrence/smoothing. The sentence, as written, means that an ashstorm was being pelted by small grains of sand and ash; that, of course, is not your intent.

The second chapter really reflects your growth as a writer - first chapters are always the hardest, aren't they? Awesome job on this Zalphon, and so glad you are bringing Zalphon the character back, he has always been my fave!

At the moment I need some time to think up a better plot than this, and will have a better one next story (which I hope I can be patient enough to wait until next week to start).

Closed per OP request.