Second part of the prologue. This will actually be from the POV of the Dovahkiin and as he is a Dwemer this will hopefully explain how he is still alive at the time of Skyrim. Enjoy!
Mzar POV
His head was pounding. Last night had been the New Year's party and it been riotous. He remembered arriving at Alftand tower after the journey through Blackreach, and about 20 minutes of the start of the party. But as soon as the Dark Elves had arrived with their Shein, his memory became a nauseous blur of colour and sound.
He vaguely remembered stumbling somewhere in Blackreach, inadvertently activating a Steam centurion, which he managed to override, but after that event his memory returned to a blur until his awakening this morning.
Every step down the cold, stone hallway that lead to his place of work sent an agonizingly loud clunk echoing down the passage. He would definitely be getting all his boots enchanted with muffling spells after work.
As he emerged from the hallway into the open air of the caves, he sighed in relief. The soft moist mud and low lighting dulled the pain in his head. Unfortunately this did not stop the rings in his beard from jangling loudly. His footsteps made little noise as he walked parallel to the pathway trying not to stumble on the cobbles and cause a noise.
He was close to the Mzark elevator when a booming, enthusiastic voice filled his ears. The elevator guard, Nchard, called out to him. "Ho, Mzar! And how was your night?"
"Blurry" he replied drearily. The mountain of a man laughed heartily through the mask of his helmet.
"Same here. At least my jobs not as finicky as yours. Standing around all day isn't so bad. As long as none of the bloody snow elf bastards don't come begging for a few coins. Begging for a few beatings if you ask me" He laughed again.
Mzar Grimaced. Inside, He vehemently opposed the enslavement of the snow elves. He knew from the first time Falmer had turned up at Blackreach, begging for protection from the Nords, he knew that they had done something terrible to invoke the Nord's wrath. But that didn't stop him from emphasizing with them after they had been enslaved.
Now they prowled around the caves, their murky eyes the colour of scrambled eggs blindly staring into nothing. When they came crawling to the resident Dwemer, begging in their broken Falmeri for a few coins, He never hesitated to press a few into their hands.
"Yeah" he replied after a few moments. "One of them comes near me, the only thing I'll be giving them is a cracked skull" he lied. Nchard laughed in agreement.
"Well, you'd better be getting up to the tower. I hear that now it's a new year, it requires some extra maintenance."
"Oh shit, I nearly forgot about that. Thanks."
"No problem" the guard replied as he pulled the lever downward. A mechanical clunking filled the air and a hiss of steam was released as the elevator descended from above. He stepped inside and braced himself against the centre pillar. The same series of clunks and hisses sounded as he was lifted to the external tower and deposited at the entrance hall.
He stepped out of the elevator and strode toward the doors to the Lexiconory. He stopped at the Lexicologist's log and paused. It was a thick tome, about half the pages were filled. It dated back to the Merethic era, when Felldir the Old entrusted an Elder Scroll to the Dwemer.
Mzar was the 19th Lexicologist to log his visits to the Elder Scroll. His job paid very well, as it required him to clean and maintain the Elder Scroll, as well as transcribe the Lexicon, Which could be very dangerous. He owned a large apartment, one of the highest available in external Nchuand-Zel.
He turned to the current page and wrote down his name, the date, and the number of visits he had made.
Mzar | 1st of Morning Star, 1E 142 | 1,339
He proceeded to open the door into the Lexiconory, and ascend the ramp. When he reached the top, he began to enter the sequence that accessed the Elder Scroll containment unit. As it clunked down, the noises caused yet another wave of hangover-induced pain to wash over him.
He put a hand to his forehead as he walked to the now open containment unit. The Elder scroll was inside, and he began the job of cleaning it. he unlatched the sides and opened the casing, unrolling the shimmering scroll. He began the task of meticulously cleaning it, using a wet brush to clean any grime of magical residue out of the grooves in the paper.
His head still pounded, and his hand trembled as he worked. If he so much as touched the scroll in the wrong place, the results could be disastrous.
As the last of the water ran off his brush, he stretched out an arm, reaching for the pot of water he had on the floor next to the chair he was sitting on.
His hand however, found nothing but space where it should have found resistance, and continued on without halt. As his arm stretched to its limits he turned, confused at where the pot of water was. As he turned, his balance shifted and he fell from the chair.
Instinctively, he grasped for anything that would keep him upright. Little too late did he realise that the thing he grasped was the Elder Scroll's magic infused material
His eyes filled with a blinding white light, streaked with pale green, and he felt like he was falling horizontally, spinning down an elevator shaft of pure burning brilliance. He turned to face what he was rushing towards, but was greeted by a crimson-coloured seal, a dragon with wings that formed a diamond.
Suddenly, he felt as if his entire body was having the skin ripped from it, like his blood was turning to magma in his veins. The same seal that was before him had become branded over his heart and he heard a voice somewhere in this ethereal tunnel shout "Dovahkiin".
The seal in front of him shattered into a hundred pieces of red hot steel and disappeared into the sides of the tunnel. He heard a rushing, behind him, followed by a roar, and soon enough a huge black comet sailed past him, unravelling and becoming a spiky black dragon.
As the dragon past him he saw it disappear, they had both reached the end of the tunnel. He exploded forth from it, and his ears filled with a ringing noise. All he remembered seeing before he passed out were to dragons, the black one flying away from a smaller, surprised looking grey one.
As he spun off the mountain that the dragon sat on, all he remembered seeing was the trees rushing to meet him, a small camp nearby with men clad in furs and blue cloth walking around. He then hit a branch, breaking his falling and knocking him out cold.
Imperial Soldier POV
"Captain!" She called to her officer. "I think I've found a Thalmor informant" Her commanding officer approached, "Is he still alive?" she asked.
"He's breathing. Stormcloaks must have used him for information, and then double crossed him and beat him down. Treacherous bastards." She replied.
"Probably right. Even if he was double crossed, he still aided the enemy. Get him out of those ruined robes and put him in some rags, then pack him in a cart with the rest."
"Yes maam" she replied, hoisting the elf out of the ditch near the camp. She stared down at him as he redressed him, wondering about the rings in his beard. They appeared to be made of Dwemer metal.
She considered taking some, but then realised they would be worthless, any half-decent adventurer could scavenge for bits of Dwemer scrap around a Dwarven ruin. Still, she wondered about them, it wasn't like High elves to grow beards, much less decorate them in such a way.
"Oi, Hadvar!" she called to her brother, "Gimme a hand over here with this informant. He's heavy."
Her brother approached. "You're doing great around here. Fitting in nicely. I didn't think you would, given, y'know, the thieving and all, but really. You seem to be enjoying yourself."
She rolled her eyes. Just because she was a thief, didn't mean that she couldn't fit on with the Imperial Legion. She and her brother covered up is horribly bruised and bloody back, then hoisted him up into the cart. One of the prisoners spoke up.
"Well well, if it isn't Jytte." It was Ralof, one of the men from the town. She had left him dumped 5 years ago, after a short relationship in which he was really clingy and she was distant. "Still stealing hearts? Or as I've heard, anything you can lay your hands on, you little thief" Hadvar punched him in the face.
She heard the captain call that they were leaving. She climbed atop her horse and began trotting with the convoy.
A/N: Well I hope you all enjoyed that. It's longer than my other chapter by far, and it introduces two new characters. Pretty nifty huh? I think that Ralof is going to have a bruise on his face for some time after that punch from Hadvar. Anyway, review, favourite, follow, eat a slice of bacon, whatever. But seriously, leave your thoughts. Until next time!