Imperial Experimentation report on Corprus and it’s effects

Under direct command and Imperial decree from our Awesome and Terrifying Majesty, his Grace, Uriel Septim VII, we are to record and document the progression of the disease known colloquialy as “Corprus”

The following paper is to only be seen in progress by the 9th Imperial Experimentation Unit and only to be seen finished by Uriel Septim VII. Its author, one Almotaren of Auridom, and his fellow observers are to be under a strict, limitless non-disclosure agreement. Breaking this agreement is grounds for immediate execution.

1: 15th of Sun’s Dawn, 3E 427

This marks the beginning of our observation. The subject is a healthy, male Imperial Knight-Errant who had contracted Corprus a day prior within a cave known by the locals as “The Hellhole”. He tells us his troop went into said cave, and that he was the only survivor. He refuses to elaborate on the details of this incident.

The subject’s name is Iratian Oranius and currently displays only mild blistering and bumps on his skin. Iratian, as well shall henceforth refer to him as, is residing in a 18x18 foot chamber, with a bed, bath, toilet and a small basket of food and drink with a small alteration enchantment to replenish itself after usage, ensuring Iratian never runs out of food and drink.

The enclosure contains several viewing panes through which we shall observe Iratian.

He has willingly submitted himself here, stating that he would “rather die for The Emperor than die for nothing.” Iratian also seems to have a slight cough, though we presume this is an unaffiliated symptom as he told us his troop was having similar coughing problems, thought to be the result of a simple infection.

2: 17th of Sun’s Dawn 3E 427

2 days have passed since. Iratian is now rather lethargic and is having food and water transported directly into him via one of our finest mages. Despite our attempts to make him more responsive, Iratian spends most of his time either staring off at the sky or pawing at the viewing panes, whining the word “heat” repeatedly.

His cough has intensified, and his breathing has grown rasped and short. Small clouds of what look like very transparent smoke also seem to come out whenever he coughs. We should focus on his lungs first and foremost upon the autopsy’s occurance, as this “ash-cough” as one of my colleagues has called it is quite an oddity.

His skin has grown deathly pale, with blistering, weeping sores and various bumps forming across his entire body. Iratian has taken off his armor and most of his clothes as well, which we assume is caused by what we think is him gaining a fever.

Iratian breifly used his shower yesterday in a frenzied attempt to wash off the pus of the sores, and ate approximately three times from the food basket, but otherwise has not used his amenities much.

We fear this disease may be much, much more dangerous than we anticipated. It has a fast growth and we wait in morbid anticipation to see how it develops.

3: 22nd of Sun’s Dawn 3E 427

5 days have now passed, and Iratian is no longer recognizable as the fine Legionaire he once was. All he does now is yell out slurred gibberish, whilst picking at his sores and wounds. He has not used his amenities at all, instead relieving himself on the spot.

A most curious observation is that despite not having eaten or drank since the last status report, Iratian shows no signs of weight loss whatsoever.

His flesh is purely white and comprised mainly of sloughing skin, gaping holes and large pustules. The bumps have now become noticable growths, which we believe to be tumorous in nature.

Iratian is in a desperate state and the ethicalities of this observation have come into question. Some of our team do not feel comfortable at all with this experiment, whilst others are willing to go through with it for the sake of The Emperor and knowledge about this strange disease. I am with the latter camp, and intend to see this to its absolute conclusion.

4: 1st of First Seed, 3E 427

7 days have passed and Iratian’s tumors have grown exponentially. His flesh is bloated, covered in pus-filled wounds and has a slight coloration to it, that we can only assume has been brought on by the internal pressure of the tumors causing increased bloodflow.

He is no longer capable of speech, the tumors blocking almost three quarters of his mouth, as well as a significantly large tumor which we theorize is crushing his frontal lobe. Iratian’s motor skills have also decreased, his leg now completley dead, forcing him to drag it behind him as a dead weight.

Again, Iratian has not used his amenities in several days, leading us to believe that the disease has some self-sustaining properties. I hypothesize that this disease may be some form of parasitic infection, and that the hosts tumors are bearing spawn to be released, and thus the host needs to be nourished in order for the spawn to survive.

5: 2nd of First Seed 3E 427

It has only been a mere day and we were horrified to see that Iratian’s tumors have fully overtaken his body. It is now merely a mass of tumorous flesh, pulsating and making the occasional groan. Detect Life spells have shown that even in this form, Iratian is still fully alive, though its conciousness is heavily in doubt. The sores and wounds seem to have been either taken up completley by the tumors, or otherwise healed, strangely enough.

The colouration of the skin has also turned a rather strange, pale blue, and seems to be coated with a thick, coarse layer of what we can only describe as ash. 2 of our researchers quit on the spot upon seeing this sight, one of whom kept screaming that her “faith in the fairness of The Divines is dead.”

My unit’s main goal is discovering, and preforming the worst that Tamriel has to offer. They knew what they signed up for, and for leaving they will most likely be sworn to secrecy or executed.

I, however, shall stay on until the very end.

6: 2nd of First Seed, 3E 427

Only a few hours after my last report, something remarkable occured. The mass of tumours wasn’t a benign, useless wad of flesh after all! It was, in fact, some form of cocoon that was changing and warping Iratian into a whole new lifeform!

The cocoon dissolved around the lifeform, dissapating into a thick cloud of what I believed was smoke. And inside, was the most remarkable, terrifying being.

This being was free of sores, growths, blisters, anything of that sort. Instead, its skin was coated in something different - ash. And on the topic of its skin, its colouration was now that of a Dunmer itself! It seems to sport a head of fair white hair, along with a recognizably humanoid face, that of a mer.

The most interesting aspect of Iratian is that, while it behaves erratic and violent, it seems to have a restored intelligence. No longer does it act like an invalid, instead possessing a human level of intellect.

This creature was no longer Iratian. Iratian died with the bursting of the cocoon. This being - this thing, it was something else entirely. My colleagues have suggested naming it and, while I would normally disregard such juvenile things, I wish to preform some sort of interview with this creature, given that it seems intelligent. And it would be rude of me not to address it properly.

7: 8th of First Seed, 3E 427

It’s been 6 days now. The being kept muttering about dreams, awakening, sleepers, all sorts of strange things, it’s all it ever talks about. Seeing as dreams seems to be an integral part of this being’s identity, we have named it “Waken”. It seems to have accepted this name, responding to us when we address it by that name.

Attempts at further communication and interview have failed, though. Waken seemed to be infatuated with stacking the various amenities, armour and clothes in his room in various configurations, before screaming that it is “Never right, ever ever.” Attatched is a transcript of our attempted interview. Following our newly developed protocol, we were to say 5 standard, unchanged statements and transcribe Waken’s reply.

For the sake of briefness, “A” is I, Almotaren and “W” is Waken.

A: Good morning, Waken.

W: It is not needed in his house. When we all become part of it. The night and the day, they coagulate, become one in the flesh.

A: How are you feeling, today?

W: Choked. I am choked, today, yesterday, for the future. I yell out for my lord, but he does not respond. I am not strong enough yet. Need to arrange it all, it is imperfect. Not needed. I love the ash, I need more of it. I’m in ecstasy as I choke. And I hate it. Such a lovely feeling.

A: Does the name “Iratian Oranius” remind you of anything?

W: I need to arrange, I need to sort. Fit it, make it better. But it’s not, it’s not of his liking. The Sharna (?) wants me stronger.

A: Are you man or mer?

W: (Waken made a gargled scream. His reply seemed to indicate some form of anger.)

A: Goodbye for now, Waken.

W: I must reach perfection.

8: Waken has transformed again, into something entirely different. He now entirely resembles a Dunmer, with no resemblance to his previous form whatsoever. The most interesting part of this form’s appearance is that it seems to have a gigantic part of its head missing, with what appears to be a small growth in the middle of this wound.

His vision has gone, and Walken has suffered as a result. He now only screams, making any conversation impossible. Walken seems to only tap the floor and the surfaces around him repeatedly, and scream at random intervals now, his behavior having degraded severely.

I had such high aspirations for Walken, but now that his intellect has once again taken a cliff dive, I can only hope he may transform again.

We weren’t able to preform a coversation, given Walken’s current inability to speak. I hope my next entry will have one.

9: 18th of First Seed, 3E 427

Walken has transformed again, this time for the better! His new form is his most abstract yet. The small growth has taken up the cavity in his head, becoming similar to the trunk of a Mammoth. His intellect is back to normal, if not higher than ever before.

The most peculiar aspect of his new form is that he seems to be clothed in a strange garment, that was not present in his chamber. His clothes and amenities are completley intact, so we have to assume these clothes either got in somewhere we couldn’t see, or Waken somehow created these clothes out of thin air. If the latter is true, this could mean his magical abilities are slowly but surely sharpening!

His behavior was very calm, human-like if I dare say so. Our conversation was much more lucid than before, and I was able to gain a wealth of insight into his thought process.

Below is the transcript of said conversation.

A: Good morning, Waken.

W: I hope you greet the day well, Almotaren.

A: How are you feeling?

W: Rejuvinated. My body tingles with energy, I feel like the screaming, singing souls of a thousand mer charge through every muscle fibre I have, and I have no one to thank but the Sharna (?)

(Puzzled by this repeated mention of “Sharna” we inserted a 6th question asking about this entity.)

A: Who is Sharna?

W: I know not of Sharna, whatever that may be. In a similar tongue though, is the Sharmat. He is aware of the degradation of this sphere and its bones. The Wheels have rusted, and the singing skeletons underneath and dispersing. He will save it all. He will breath new life into it, and all shall follow him if they want to live in eternal halcyon.

A: Does the name “Iratian Oranius” remind you of anything?

W: It reminds me of a child, asleep in bee. They suck their thumb, saliva dribbling down their soft skin as they rest unaware of what is going on around them. My name of now, the one you dubbed me, “Waken” It represents my new being to the fullest. Awaken. Aware. So lucid and concious of this decaying world.

A: Are you Man or Mer?

W: Mer. All should be in the Sharmat’s house. Filthy outlanders are not welcome.

A: Goodbye for now, Walken.

W: You will walk like me, soon. You shall awake through his love.

6th: 6th of Midyear, 1E 700

I could have killed them at any point. I saw them point at me, debate my very identity. As I struggled, as I endured my hardship, they laughed. I am the hand of the Sharmat, he has empowered me beyond belief. In night, while others dreamt, I awoke for a final time.

My flesh swells with power, and my “Mammoth Trunk” has split and grown. I am this “Mammoth” now. It is my physical body, linked and fused to the skull which contains my rapidly awakening mind.

I can play on the bells of the earth like a musician, I command so much. In the morning, I will take this Altmer’s reigns and I will introduce him to the Sharmat’s glory. As I wrap myself in the gloak of his ashen love, so do I wrap the Altmer in my guidance, I shall push him along this magical path.

Telepathy. Telekinesis. Pyrokinesis. So much at my command. So much power I can use, so much I can do for the Sharmat’s glory. He will walk across Resdaynia after sundering his colleagues, then visit Cyrodiil to deliver this missive.

The empire shall know fear. The Imperial dogs shall know it well.

The Dreamer has awoken. Lord Dagoth Ur and the Sixth House have resurrected.