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Chapter Three: The Thalmor
19th of Morning Star, 4E 213
Tsahari stood in fear at the appearance of the Thalmor. Known as the victor of the Great War; feared and hated by many. They arrogantly establish themselves as superior to Men, blatantly accusing everyone else as an inferior being. These High Elves envisioned Men as a hindrance to their rightful claim to the world. They do not consider Talos to be a God, as he was a mortal man on the plane of Nirn. The Thalmor abolished this worship, as they claim it to be heretical. In turn, this fueled a rebellion throughout Skyrim known to most as Stormcloaks, fighters of the true Nord people and seek to establish Skyrim as its own independent province. The Empire, at the end of the Third Era, struggled to retain its foothold throughout the provinces of Tamriel since the sacrificial death of Martin Septim, the last heir to the throne. Provinces around Cyrodiil began to recede from the Empire, aware of its crumbling state. When the Empire was flung into total war against the Aldmeri Dominion; the Empire fought and lost. They signed the White-Gold Conduct, establishing a brittle cease fire between both the Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion, at the expense of outlawing Talos worship.
The Thalmor agents, six of them, walked up towards the group. Their golden armor shined in the evening light, their gleaming swords fixated to their hilts. Some had no weapons, preferring destructive spells from the power of arcane arts. Their golden eyes glanced around the wilderness, rabbits and foxes rummaging about, until they saw the Khajiit. A Thalmor Justiciar took no heed of her, aware of the alliance between the Aldmeri Dominion and these cat-people. It was until he saw the three foreigners, dressed in their ridiculous outfits and their Elven-like faces, that his blood began to boil. They had some features of the High Elves, but also short and non-elegant. Are they some offspring of some damn High Elf and Breton couple? No. He won't have some disfigured thing tainting the blood of the purest race. I do not allow such a thing to exist! They even wear hideous clothings, as if they knew they were unworthy of living. He notified his fellow soldiers, sharing the same feelings of disgust as the Thalmor Justiciar did. He looked at the Khajiit, his brows furrowed with anger. She will die too, for accompanying such foul and distasteful creatures. They were an easy target. Neither did they have swords nor did they have the competence to learn the ways of the arcane.
"You there," one of them shouted to the foreigners, "Halt in the name of the Aldmeri Dominion."
The foreigners looked at them in surprise, scanning their golden armor embellished with many intricate carvings. Tsahari stared from the back, frozen in fear. These Thalmor Justiciar will find any reason to kill or murder. Even a weird look grants a sharp sword to the gullet. The Thalmor Justiciar shouted in confidence.
"As the proper Justiciar of the Aldmeri Dominion, I proclaim you and your cohorts unfit to walk in the plane of Nirn. You are a blemish to the true race of Mer and will die a miserable death." The soldier withdrew his sword, the sunlight reflecting off its polished gold surface. The rest of the Thalmor Justiciars did the same, a choir of ringing metal. The foreigners, by instinct, withdrew their clumsy metal sticks from their back and aimed at the Thalmor Justiciar.
How cute. They thought, with a smirk on their faces. They think they can defend themselves.
"The Khajiit will die as well, for the act of accompanying tainted blood of the true Elves." The Justiciar continued on.
The Thalmor soldiers lunged at them, their swords tempered and ready to kill. Tsahari readied her flame spell. If she will die, she will die fighting.
*CRACK*
A crack of thunder pierced sensitive ears as the Justiciar's back exploded into a fit of blood and shrapnel, spraying the bewildered soldiers behind with liquid red. His demolished body fell down lifelessly on the blood-soaked dirt; his sword clattering uselessly on the ground. The foreigners shouted their nonsensical words, threatening them with their loud metal sticks. A single golden object fell out from one of their noisy clubs. It rolled along the ground until it halted at the foot of a Thalmor soldier. In pure anger, one of them charged a lighting spell in his hand, the glow illuminating the shocked faces of the High Elves. He aimed at one of the foreigners and blasted him, launching his body to the ground. The Thalmor Justiciars knocked themselves out of their shocked state and charged once again in fury, to avenge the death of one of their fellow soldiers. Tsahari flung multiple flame balls at their bodies. It did nothing to impede their charge, scorching only the brows on their enraged faces. The Khajiit slowly step backwards, ready to abandon and run. while the foreigners stood still, aiming their metal clubs at the oncoming Thalmor.
What are they doing? She thought. Are they insa-
*CRACK* *CRACK*
*TATATATATATATA*
The Thalmor Justiciars erupted into a fountain of bloody red mist; their armor rendered completely useless to block the deadly onslaught. A shower of golden objects, that launched itself from the thunder sticks, fell to the ground like the sound of a spilled purse. It seems the power of thunder befell on these foreigners as death rained down on the Elves of the Aldmeri Dominion. Tsahari cowered in pain as she covered her ears, the cracks of thunder hammering her eardrums like the force of a thousand Orcs.
*click* *click* *click*
The sounds of horror ceased, leaving a pile of broken and shattered Thalmor corpses on the ground, stained with the pure blood of Mer. In the distance, an injured Thalmor Justiciar limped away from the carnage; a gashing hole in his leg. He'll bleed to death long before he reaches a settlement. These Thalmor Justiciars never got the chance to swing their swords once. Their years of training went to naught as the foreigner's weapons slaughtered them without effort. They were frighting, loud, and deadly. If the Imperial legion ever got hold of these weapons, it will be the Elves turn to cower in fear. They will remain unchallenged for hundreds of years! Their magics must be a new sort of element. They must be thunder staffs, compressed and easy to aim unlike those traditional staffs, unwieldy and heavy. Groans of pain snapped Tsahari out of her thoughts. Next to her, the lighting-struck foreigner groaned in pain. His fellow friends rushed over to help him, trying to heal his suffering. One of them took the same black object and spoke. His voice was stricken with panic and fear. The small black object replied with the same daedric-like voice as before, but with more haste. Tsahari just stood there, feeling completely useless to help. She was not skilled in the art of Restoration compared to her fellow scholars, but she makes a decent alchemist. Tsahari bent over and rummaged through her satchel.
A quill. No.
Potion of Magika. No.
Paper.
Frostbite Poison.
Inkwell.
Potion of Small Health. Here it is.
Tsahari took the small vial, filled with pale red liquid, and gave it to one of the foreigners. He stared at it in confusion. With a little hesitation, he took the potion from her hands and uncorked the top. The foreigner smelled it curiously, before reeled back in disgust. He looked back at Tsahari and did a pouring motion with the vial. Tsahari repeated the motion, but over her mouth. He went over to his injured friend and poured a stream of the liquid into his mouth. The injured foreigner opened his eyes wide and spat out in disgust. He then realized some of his pains had disappeared. Snatching the potion from his friend, he held his breath and took a swig of the potion. Finished, he tossed the empty vial to the side, coughing at the horrid taste of the potion. He hopped back to his feet like he was never injured in the first place. His friends stared at him in surprise, then rushed to hug. The one Tsahari gave the potion dragged her into the group, patting her on the back for her efforts. She felt extremely proud of what she did today, and savored the moment. Amid the silence, the daedric-like voice sounded yet again. A foreigner replied to the black object with his strange tones. The two exchanged a small conversation, Tsahari perking her ears with curiosity. Then all was silent. The three foreigners went towards a fallen tree and sat above it, clearly waiting for someone. With nowhere else to go, she stood by them, curious of whom they were waiting for.
The evening sun slowly dipped into the horizon, creating a hazy yet beautiful yellow and orange sunset. The Khajiit yawned, tired of everything that had happened today. The smell of rotting flesh, obviously from those Elven corpses, began to kick in. Whoever they were waiting for, they better arrive soon. The smell would attract large predators for miles. One of the foreigners lifted his wrist in front of him. There was another black devise strapped to his wrist Tsahari didn't see before. It could be a watch of some kind, the way the foreigner glanced at it. A flock of birds erupted out of nowhere, flying away from the direction they were facing. The strange sound of machinery grew louder by the second. There seems to be two mage lights hovering above the ground. The three foreigners smiled while the Khajiit stared in confusion. The two lights came closer and closer until Tsahari's eyes can no longer bare the blinding light. She peaked through her hands, blocking the rays of brightness, and laid eyes on the strangest piece of machinery, covered in a shade of green. The sides of the mechanical carriage opened, revealing two of more of these molted clothed foreigners. They sounded glad seeing the three foreigners, but upon seeing Tsahari, they raised their thunder staffs in panic. The Khajiit stood in fear, her feet rooted to the ground. She had seen the destructive power these thunder staffs hold. If they unleashed its horrors on her...
The foreigners she knew ran towards them, yelling and shouting in panic. The other foreigners hesitantly lowered their thunder clubs, obeying their command. One of them pointed a finger at the Khajiit and garbled their unknown language. The three foreigners replied them back in the same garbled tone. Walking to the side of the machinery, they beckoned her into the monstrous horseless metal carriage, inside full of strange instruments to behold. She hesitantly climbed on board, the growls of the carriage hammering her sensitive ears. Looking around, she gawked at all the objects that hung from the floors and walls. Black vests, straps, boxes, and ropes of kinds littered the area. In the front of this loud carriage were two seats, sat by the two foreigners that pointed their staffs at her. More daedric-sounded voices emitted from the front, the foreigners, all around her. Tsahari sat in excitement and fear. This is a new discovery! What secrets of other magic do they behold? What manners of engineering had they kept as a secret? Everyone from the College would maim and kill for this horseless metal carriage and everything inside it. But she has the first hand privilege to travel in one of these wonders.
The rest of the foreigners closed the metal doors and strapped a thin robe over their bodies. The three foreigners look at Tsahari, expecting her to do the same. One reached over and pulled a thin rope from the carriage walls and pulled it across her body. He shoved it next to her seat with a satisfying click. One of the foreigners yelled his tonal language at the front and the carriage heaved with movement. The metal carriage began to rock back and forth driving across the bumpy ground beneath. All this motion made Tsahari ill, her head becoming light and dizzy. Upon reaching the road, it slowly gained speed, traveling faster and fater than any horse can hope to do. Tsahari, wide-eyed in fear, held a death grip at the sides of her seat, uneasy at the speed they were traveling at. All the foreigners laughed at her, as if they knew she would do that. The metal horseless carriage traveled into the heart of Haafingar, its big black wheels kicking dirt and snow into the air. The sun slowly dipped below the horizon, sending the world into a beautiful yet dangerous night.
