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The Alessian Bull of 244

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Xarnac The Conqueror's picture
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Book I

 

By Giotto de'Aguirre

 

 After the White Tower fell to Paravant and her Man-Bull paramour, a succession of Imperial decrees were ratified. Among the first were the Cyrodilic Initiatives and the legal formation of the Al-Esh Pantheon - more commonly known as the Eight Divines. In the empire's infancy, Alessia spent nearly every waking hour granting an audience to her new subjects and their tribal quarrels. She barely left the Hall of the Ten Ancestors, which had been reconsecrated as the new throne room, due to Umaril's corruption of the previous cathedra. Her closest ally was Morihaus and it was said his counsel came for free, but also came from ethereal prophecy. That he could actually hear the whispers of the divine. It was also said that when the Winged-Bull lay wounded from the sparrow beaked arrows of the Ayleid, the Star-Made Knight brought his beaten body before an ancient crone. There she studied the fowl-bolt trajectories and became the Heartland's first Augur. These legendary songs inspired and entertained the common folk to such a degree, that within a year Morihaus was as revered as their queen liberator. 

 Rather than punish her consort's new found fame, she capitalized on it - ushering in a new kind of binding statute. It would be in the form of a letter patent, disguised as a charter who's authority would be universal. She would name these edicts Alessian Bulls, or Bulla, in reference to the old Nibenese word for seal. One must remember that these were the days of ponderous scrolls, before the advent of the noble codex or printing press. The only way to ensure ascendancy and discretion was to bind the scroll with clay, dung, or preferably wax and lead. To continue the bovine theme, Al-Esh had a cast made of her lover's nose ring. This novel, golden hoop would act as her bulla, her stately insignia. Wrapped around the document like an uncompromising ribbon, this unmistakable sign lent gravitas to any content that lay within. Who would dare defy an order sanctified by the great Breath-of-Kyne?

 As her inaugural Bull, she outlawed the enslavement of mankind in 1E 243. Within a season it became evident that to prevent political destabilization, her following mandates would need to be more inclusive. So in the calends of Morning Star, the empress issued the Bull of 244:

 All Man, Mer and Beast-ken are created equally guilty of the same predispositions. To remedy this blight on society all slavery will be abolished. Any who practice this disgraced system will be executed by beheading and gibbeted in the Dragon Gardens for eighty eight nights. 

  Needless to say, bondage across the empire fell dramatically. But for every rule there is an exception and in this case the subjugation of fleeing Ayleid refugees proved too enticing for some. Like the catamite lords of Senchal, mortal hate breeds more hate. Without moral guidance, the inflicted can soon become the inflicting - passing their pain onto others without empathy. To this extent, Alessia needed a more tactile approach, with even more force than her quill could bestow. Showing mercy to elves, while making examples of the dissenters was paramount. And only the Bull's presence could enforce this, as he too was an abolitionist at heart. As the last moon turned and the new year approached, a glorious host road south-southwest towards Valenwood.

 Her Majesty, Domina of Broken Chains, road atop her feathered concubine wielding the ruby whip and her newly won Chim-el Adabal; a magical amulet with powers yet to be revealed. Two Colovians rode her flanks. Froki the Nose-Less, who lost his wide, nordic snout in the first rebellions and Oki Salt-Song, a gout riddled boat-carl who's political acumen made up for his lack of riding abilities. Both were fair haired and of the same height and complexion. Other than their armor, noses and gait on and off horse, there were few distinguishing characteristics to tell them apart. Merish eugenics and breeding systems were surely the culprit. Leading the vanguard's point was a slippery, Jerall nightblade the empress had known from her life of servitude in Sard. Like many slaves from the Beast-folk mountain clans, he had no proper name and refused to take one after he was freed. He simply went by "This One," like his masters referred to him before. Bringing up the rear, riding an awnry, decrepit old mule was Castis the Elder. "Versed" in many schools of magic, Castis was in reality a hedge wizard that found favor in the Imperial court due to his inadvertent virtue of telling blunt truths, regardless of how unpopular they were. Although as far as small conversation goes, you were better off conversing with the mule.

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Am I allowed to comment on this or is that considered bad form?

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 Book II
 
 
 Sun's Dawn crept over the hill and through the canopy, lighting the Gold road's mossy cobbles. Castis' mount had been wheezing and gasping for breath ever since entering the Great Forest, struggling to keep up with the rest of the party. The empress, ever fond of her court wizard, ordered her company to stop and make an encampment along the southern estuary. Oki was not in a compassionate mood.
 
 "I can't piss without my big toe setting ablaze, and we stop mid morning for this witch? I should be so lucky to ride a creature that lacks the wit to defy me as my horse does," the boat-carl begrudged to himself, louder than was appropriate.
 
 Al-Esh, ever present, swooped down with swift beratement camouflaged as praise, "You are loyal Oki. And all remember the fury of the Slaver's Regatta - the likes of which we'll never see again. Those who stood that day will echo in the hall of annals."
 
 The blonde sea snake's head rose in delight at her sweet words, calmly thumping his chest in rhythm. Froki watched on, awaiting the inevitable.
 
 She continued, dismissing her lover to the forest, "But never think yourself above those that are hobbled, for you too are marked with an affliction. Walk to me... No? And it shall never be mentioned again."
 
 Her candid closure brought what may have been a smile to Castis' face, if only for a moment. The Nose-Less grinned and put an arm around his northern brethren - offering him a drink. Ale washes away disputes and grudges, at least to the Colovians, and they toasted the new empire and swore many boorish, yet humorous tributes in her name. Morihaus' huffing interrupted the festive atmosphere. Under his armored protection were three Ayleid children, no older than the empire.
 
 Exiled elves, the hedge wizard presumed as he instinctively cared for their wounds without command. This One, scouting from the tall timber's cover, bellowed like a Hackwing. A sure sign that someone or something else was approaching.
 
 They came in large droves under the twin moon's light - elves of every sort - fleeing the war's destruction. Cosmopolitan Altmer alongside the common Bosmer that toils in the former's field. Ayleid slavers that had lost everything, walking among Maormer traders and Breton sympathizers. The central woodlands had become an impromptu causeway for the displaced and the band watched in reverence as the mer knelt and bowed before them.
 
 Knowing more is lost in indecision than wrong decision, the queen's kindness triumphed over thoughts of assassins and detractors. Offering her camp and services to the elven people came naturally, but not without a price. Her beast-ward scout strongly protested, not out of contempt mind you, but out of precaution.
 
 "This One pleads to domina that she should reconsider. She of Lake and Stone, I beg her. It is unwise to stay here... among," the words rolled uneasy out of the Khajiit's snout.
 
 "One thousand apologies domina, but I must concur with our agile friend,"  a drunk but coherent Oki exclaimed.
 
 "I will deal with the elves and offer every altruistic comfort available," his bureaucratic suave was taking form.
 
 He walked into the shaded undergrowth with an inebriated confidence only the mead gods could grant. Slowly he hiked the trail, winding around and navigating the creek's boundary. A loaf of bread and a horn of ale was all he needed to work his magic. Merish curiosity was piqued by this fool of Al-Esh. And that was her most enduring quality, to make the most of every mortal she crossed paths with. While Oki was almost intolerable sober, his mirth and jovial nature under the influence was something to behold. Harmonious ballads rang from the trees and even This One krinned at his magic.
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Bull of Kyne wrote:
Am I allowed to comment on this or is that considered bad form?

Comments are fine I think. If it become unwieldy and a problem, solve it when it happens.

Do be constructive though, this is people writing for their own fun.

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Book III

 

 It was early in the morning when the Salt-Song's singing subsided. And a few found it not soon enough, including Castis. But despite the wizard's cynicism, the Colovian lullaby had put most of the surrounding refuge to sleep. Even Morihaus was half a daze, grunt-snoring under a Cow tree. Which was no surprise, as the fruit of the tree was known to have many intoxicating qualities. In fact, an entire book could be written on the various uses of the noble hardwood. The ruby whip's grip was carved from the heart of a rare Cow tree and - according to local folklore - was the same timber used to craft the bulwark of Jurga Unborn. She was of course the rebellion's famous "First-thane," pulled from her dead mother by incision and felled at the Imperial city's ramparts during the White-Gold siege. 

 Froki bore witness to her ferocity along the ivory wall and her death haunted his slumber. Unable to dream without nightmare, he rose from his knapsack and wandered about for a bit, until settling beneath the feline nightblade. 

 The Imperial insomniac inquired upward into the Khajiit's occupied Graht-oak, "You've never told me how you escaped the Whitestrake's wrath. And yet you've been with domina the longest. How is this so?"

 "It is true This One was unmarked by the Glorious One, for it is quadrupedal. Khajiit that stood tall were sacrificed to Lorkhaj. This One sometimes wishes it was sacrificed as well. She of Lake and Stone saw otherwise. She of Lake and Stone offered forgiveness and mercy to its clans if Khajiit rally or remained neutral to the rebellion. Khajiit is grateful to She of Lake and Stone. All Khajiit are grateful," the cat spoke, in a manner most uncharacteristic.

 This revealing line of conversation begat a long discourse over beast-folk ideology, culture and eventually morphology. While it is true Pelin-El slew many Ohmes and Suthay, the nuances of taxonomy are lost to many humans. Sub-species that remained on all fours were spared the awe of the Bloody Knight. He saw them as simple creatures of Cyrod's jungles, pardoned from the sins of the greater beings. The nightblade, along with many others, were misdiagnosed as "lesser beings," but this couldn't be farther from reality. For he was an exceptional Pahmar, from a respectable line with the ability to speak and cast spells!

 Like the loyal This One, those that didn't depart the Heartlands after the grand crusader's arrival, became zealots to Perrif's cause. After his death, the dismembered head of Pelinal supposedly confessed the error of his ways to a heart broken Morihaus. Many of the Jerell beast tribes believe, through sermonizing, that one of his admissions was the Slaughter of the Innocents. An event that catalyzed the dogma of the first era Khajiit apologists. Their fanaticism is regarded as having a heavy influence on Marukh the Seer, and many of their mantras are included within the Alessian Doctrine - if only in reference. 

 Froki had to piece his words together since the cat's style of speech was hard to follow, but he got the gist of it. This One was devout to a fault and nothing would sway his spirit in the face of the Slave-Queen's rivals. Contemplating their conference, his northern eyes faltered, finding a respite he had sought since before the war. Nestling into a rooted undergrowth, the Nose-Less dreamt of gentle thoughts and not of Vaermina's panoply of regret.

 Spell in mind, the Pahmar pounced effortlessly into the tall cover, leaving his man friend below. Magnus' crawling gaze presented itself more and more, the higher he climbed. When he reached the apex, he observed a small detachment of cavalry heading their way. Large, Skyrim bred stock galloped down the Gold road and into the picket lines.

 Alessia was aware of their presence before he could descend. When he arrived at the bottom, she was already parleying the daybreak riders. Unsheathing her glowing whip, the empress demanded an explanation. Before a pin could drop, the Bull-Man rushed to her side, mirroring the same suspicion. A tense silence followed and all parties were on edge.

 

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 Book IV

 

 "We claim these mer and beasts as slaves in the name of Skyrim, as is our right. Unless of course they are yours, fair lady. Not one of us could resist a beauty like you," the largest Nord shouted, ending the reticence with laughter.

 Morihaus pushed the Khajiit aside, asserting his dominance, "You are addressing your queen, fool. Kneel before Al-Esh, or lose the ability to kneel altogether."

 Some of the riders spat at the ground, while a few dismounted to pay their respect. The boisterous one kept his seat however.

 Unwavering to the bull's demands, he continued, "When we heard our 'liberator' had taken up arms against her own, we had to see it for ourselves. Our 'queen' hides behind the meek words of documents and scrawls. She hides behind a fluttery cow, a cat, an old street magician and whatever those two blonde freaks are, coming up the brooklet! Who in the hoarfather do you think you are? Why should we be denied the spoils of victory? When did Shor's song fall on so many deaf ears? And what exactly are those two mutant creatures flanking your side?"

 "-hiccup- We're the spirit behind all human undertaking, wretch! -hiccup-"

  Oki was seeing double, but was wielding twin crossbows to compensate, as he fired both bolts into the neck of the flippant Nord. With the conference cut short, a sighing Froki charged their line with his silver greatsword. Swiping and swinging, he relieved many warriors from their mounts. A burst of emerald illusion flickered behind the northmen, as the nightblade beguiled their horses with a single incantation. Bucking and frothing, the stallions kicked their drivers to the ground and into the waiting blade of the Nose-Less.

 An unfortunate cavalier rode too close to the "street magician" and was rendered encumbered. His steed gave way, as his cuirass deformed, cracking his ribs and burdening his innards. Excreting blood and worse from every orifice, the worst had yet to come.

 Inhaling nature's magic, the mighty Breath-of-Kyne took form and shot into the sky. His terrifying exhalation banished those enemies that remained into the farthest depths of Oblivion. Alessia lowered her aetherial warding spell and began to weep, ceremoniously. 

 Pseudo comforting her under his wing, the bull gestured to the Colovians and ordered them to bury the dismembered parts that remained on the thoroughfare - lest an opportunistic necromancer pass by. Froki acknowledged this, while the boat-carl scoffed and took breakfast from his ale horn. Castis said a prayer for each limb buried and then went off to meditate in a nearby cavern.

 This display of blind justice was not lost on the elves, who had bore witness to the entire skirmish. Rumors spread throughout camp that the only clemency given to slavers would be a crocodile's tear. All were guilty under the indiscriminate eye of Paravania.

 As the mer packed their belongings and trekked farther into the Valenwood, tales of the Alessian Bull's authority traveled with them. It was rare to see mutual admiration among the races, but this was the first step in forging a true empire. 

 The Colovians joked and gambled and the wizard bickered and moaned, but the cat and bull, under Alessian rule, rose She of Lake and Stone.

 

The End