(continued from Pt. I on last page)

I had an idea. It was an incredibly risky one – one that could kill me if I didn’t do it exactly right. But I knew there was no other option. The king’s hand would stay still for only one thing – its target.

I eased back, keeping my blade solely on the defensive while the king struck forward. I moved backwards with each stroke, backing myself closer to a corner. Helseth now controlled the pace of this duel…or at least that’s what I wanted him to think.

I shifted subtly inside my armor, creating more separation between the greaves and the cuirass – a weak spot for him to exploit. It wasn’t much – just a few inches of unprotected flesh. But it would be enough for an observant mer such as Helseth. And then, I held my blade still.

The end of Helseth’s blade found its way through the newly created gap and buried itself in my midsection. I gasped in pain, doing my best to overcome the shock. I focused, concentrating through the mental haze on his wrist. Then, through sheer determination and willpower, I lopped off his hand with one fell stroke.

The king screamed in horrified agony. Clutching his stump, he fell to his knees. I did likewise, holding my stomach and gasping for air. With my last reserves of strength, I pulled the royal’s sword from my abdomen, his bloody hand still attached. It clattered to the damp stone floor.

Then, with my vision fading, I focused as hard as I could upon Eleidon’s Ward. It began to work quickly – in mere moments, my viscera had receded back to their proper places, and my wound had sealed itself. Slowly, I brought one knee to my chest, then pushed off the ground and stood to face the nearly prostrated king.

“And now, Your Majesty...” I said with a determined grimace, “…you shall die!”

Helseth looked up at me, still holding his stump, his glowing red eyes filled with terror. “Please, no…please…d-don’t kill me! Y-you’re making a mistake! You’ll start a civil war! I’ll do anything, just don’t-“

I kicked . “You think I haven’t thought ahead!? You think I’m some kind of idiot!? I don’t care a damn for your throne! I’m going to turn myself in, in exchange for my men going off without charges. And then I suspect they’ll hang me for this. And if that’s the case, so be it.”

Helseth stared at me, incredulously. “You mean, you weren’t after the throne?”

“Of course not,” I snapped. “What would I want with the Throne of Morrowind?"

“But...I had reliable information that -“

“From whom? The same source you relied on the first time you tried to kill me?”

“This was different. He had witnesses, testimony, evidence.”

I raised one eyebrow. “Evidence?”

“Pages of it.”

“And who was your informant? Tell me, and I might ease your suffering.”

“No,” he said. “That I shall never tell.” His terrified face turned sterner and more determined.

I paused for a moment. “It’s your man in the Census and Excise Office, isn’t it? Sellus Gravius?”

The monarch’s eyes widened. “Gravius…how did you –“

“I didn’t. I guessed. Who else could have known I was coming to Morrowind? But your confession was quite helpful. Thank you for your cooperation.” I raised my sword, preparing to deliver the killing blow.

“Wait!” Helseth cried. “There’s something you should know about Gravius!”

I ceased the upward motion of my blade. “What? This had better be worth my time.”

“When I got the report…the information was good, but...” His voice trailed out.

“Spit it out, s'wit!”

“It didn't seem like Sellus had wrote it at all.”

“How so?”

"It was in his handwriting, but…there were so many words on there that I’d never seen him use before. Words it made no sense for him to use.”

“Like what?”

“He was talking about your Khajit informant, and he used this word – ‘Nemer.’”

“Nemer?” I had heard the word before. But there was only one person in the world I knew who had ever said it to me in person.

“Yes…I’ve never heard an Imperial use that word before. It’s almost…”

“…as if someone else were writing it?”

“Yes…” he said, nodding weakly. “I almost believe it now."

“Yes…” I said, stroking my chin in deep thought. “For some reason, I think I do, too.” I knew I had no reason to think he wasn’t lying, but there was something nagging inside me – a part of me that knew it to be true. It wanted me to continue searching.

I brought my sword back down to my side. “Well…today is your lucky day, Your Majesty. I think I’ll let you live. On two conditions.”

“Of course!” he choked. "Name them!"

“First, you let me finish whatever further investigation I might conduct on this matter. Second, you pardon all the men who took up arms against you.”

The king hesitated, visibly uneasy with the terms I had presented him with. Then, sighing deeply, he replied, “Very well." Weakly, he reached toward my shield.

“No,” I said, and turned to walk away.

“WAIT!” the king screamed. “Where are you going!? You said you’d spare my life!”

“And so I have,” I replied, and kept walking.

This post has been edited by bbqplatypus: Oct 12 2011, 05:21 AM

” Boethiah and Azura are the principles of the universal plot, which is begetting, which is creation, and Mephala makes of it an art form.
For by the sword I mean the first night.
For by the word I mean the dead.
There will be a splendor in your name when it is said to be true.
Six are the guardians of Veloth, three before and they are born again, and they will test you until you have the proper tendencies of the hero.
There is a world that is sleeping and you must guard against it.
For by the sword I mean the dual nature.
For by the word I mean animal life.
For by the sword I mean preceded by a sigh.
For by the word I mean preceded by a wolf.”
- From The Thirty-Six Lessons of Vivec, Sermon Six

Chapter XI

I stepped off of the silt strider into the pouring rain, my head shielded by the hood of my peasant’s robe. Dusk was approaching, but the sun was not visible. The heavy rain and darkness suited me well. I did not wish my business to be noticed.

“Twenty-three drakes, f’lah,” the driver said, not recognizing me. I handed him the fare. “You’d better get inside quick,” he said.

"I intend to," I replied.

I trudged down the damp, muddy hill that led into town. The thick swamp air swirled around, chilling, yet light and gentle somehow; carrying with it the pungent smell of moss, salt water, and rotted wood. Leaning into the wind, I crossed over the bridge into the town itself.

There was not a soul outside on the streets, save for a single guardsman who seemed to be standing outside the tradehouse. The street lanterns flickered in the wind and rain, providing wavering, sputtering glimpses of the few plain Imperial buildings that stood at the center of town.

It all seemed so familiar...and yet so strange. So inviting, and yet so harsh. So beautiful, and yet so horrifying. The sights, the smell, the sound of the swamp. I was now back where it all started; where I first stepped off the prison boat and set about my long journey…a journey that had led me right back here. It had started here. Now it may end here.

I walked farther down the lonely main street of the little town. The rain seemed to be getting worse. The mud in some places was reduced to an ankle-deep mire. The lights grew even dimmer, and the night more hostile. The once pleasant air began to grow solid, heavy, and dark. I began to question my decision not to come in armor. Whatever closure I sought here, I would find it in the worst way possible. I should have come more prepared.

I tried to convince myself that I was being paranoid. I had nearly killed the King of Morrowind – I needed to keep a low profile, and marching in wearing full armor and wielding a legendary sword was not the way to do it. And I had come only to speak with Sellus Gravius, whom I suspected to be innocent and cooperative. This was not the time for a show of force.

But I had hidden Trueflame beneath my robes. Clearly I did not have full confidence in a diplomatic approach.

Cautiously, I approached the entrance to the Census and Excise Office. My fingertips touched the iron handle and – BOOM!

A deafening crash seemed to come from out of nowhere. Startled, I jumped back from the door. It took me a few moments to realize that what I had heard had been merely thunder.

I felt fear - a fear as deep as the one I felt when I entered Dagoth Ur's antechamber. I dreaded what I would find behind that door. Some part of me – a part that had lain dormant for a long time – wanted to do something I had never done since my earliest days on Vvardenfell. It wanted me to turn back.

I swallowed deeply and resolved to bury that feeling. Whatever fate lay ahead of me, I had to know. I had come too far and lost too much to give up now. I needed closure – I owed it to myself, to my wife, and to everything and everyone that I had ever cherished. With great trepidation, I brought my hand to the door, opened it, and stepped inside.

There I was greeted by the sight of two dead bodies.

To the left, propped up against a bookshelf in the far corner, lay Sellus Gravius, with his throat slit and his sword still in its scabbard. There was no sign of a struggle – no overturned tables, no trail of blood across the floor. He was killed before he had the chance to fight.

In the center of the room was the body of Orvas Dren. His entrails lay beside him. In his dead hands he was still clutching an ornate Daedric dagger, which he held facing inward. In his mouth was a scroll, protected by a small brass sleeve.

The fireplace was still burning. These two had not been dead for more than an hour.

I felt a numbness inside me as I bent over to pick up the scroll from the dead kingpin’s mouth. I slipped it out of the sleeve, cracked the seal, and began to read.



Grandmaster –

It is for no selfish purpose that I have returned to you. For I come in the name of the Holy Matron (Praised be Her Sacred Name), whose Black Hand now guides me in all things.

For I was powerless, stripped of all I had valued, with no means of retaliation. And She granted me vengeance.

I was without hope; surrounded on all sides by obstacles and those who would deny me. And She showed me how to circumvent them.

It was on my sixty-first day in exile that She revealed herself to me. For eight weeks, I had prayed that I might obtain revenge for being shipped “voluntarily” to this thrice-forsaken wasteland. And She granted my wish – on three conditions:

First, that you would live. Second, that I would die. And finally, that I would serve Her will above all others.

This I agreed to, so boundless was my hatred of you.

I did all that was instructed of me. She showed me the herbs with which I could drug your spies working in the mines that they might sleep long and do little when awake. Her soundless Voice commanded me as I intimidated and blackmailed the chef, who placed them in their food.

She sent me visions of the beleaguered priest in the Imperial Fortress, who hated you as I did. She covered us in Her dark shroud as we raided the commander’s office and stole his Imperial letter mark, keeping us hidden from the watchful eye of the Captain.

My dreams guided everything I wrote. From the false charges, to the documents, to the name and location of that filthy beast you call a spy…all of it, divinely inspired. The Webspinner sent me these dreams, and then made me to put them to parchment in a hand that was not my own. The false report was shipped across the Inner Sea to the Mourning Hold, where the paranoid King was none the wiser. And from there, he did the rest. Then, because of your anger, he led you here to me.

While I know for certain that you believe every word I have said (for I know that She has spoken to you as well), I do not think you truly understand. Do not make the mistake of thinking this to be merely retaliation for the dissolution of a business. I once thought that way. But I now see the error of my ways. Her love and grace have caused me to see the light.

Every action I have taken, every agony I have arranged for you, has been another thread of the Webspinner. I have played my part in her Great Game. Only one task remains for me: to inform you of yours.

As you know, your presence in Morrowind has become a destabilizing factor. With your recent assassination attempt on the King, the threat of civil war grows for every minute you are alive and on this island. If you stay, you and thousands of my countrymen will die.

Normally, this would please my Prince greatly, but She does not wish to see Morrowind in chaos just yet. The time for that will come soon enough. She has a far more important task for you – one that She has instructed me to write down in the following words:

“In the East, the armies of the Dragon Emperor march and conquer all they encounter. Soon, he shall finish his conquest and turn his greedy eyes westward. If you value your people and wish him to be stopped, heed My words.

“Long ago, in Nerevar’s first lifetime, he visited the shores of Akavir. There he and his companions gained notoriety among the Tsaesci, and admiration among the Ka’Po’Tun. The tiger-men granted him sanctuary among their cities in exchange for some of the knowledge he stole from the snake people. It is from a Ka’Po’Tun port that Nerevar and his Tribunal left, under a promise that he one day would return.

“History mutated into legend, and then, into prophecy. It is now said by some that Lord Nerevar shall return to defeat the Tsaesci once and for all. This prophecy is now known only to those who preserve tradition, be it in their hearts or in their minds.

“Use the prophecy and your status as Nerevarine to your advantage, mortal. Gain the trust of the Dragon Emperor and then kill him. Topple the empire he has built. This alone shall please Me. Seek the historian living in the land once known as Ionith. He shall assist you. Do not fail, mortal.”

These are the words of the Webspinner. You have heard Her voice. You have seen Her in motion. You know now what you must do. It would be unwise not to heed Her call.

My duties are complete. I now march boldly into death. By now, the men shadowing me know I have left the island. It would only be a matter of time before they trace this plot back to me. I will not allow you or any of your hirelings the satisfaction of killing me. My time is finished. My role has been played. The thread has been cut.

All Glory to the Dark Matron!

~D



I stood in front of the dying fireplace for a long time, contemplating the words of Orvas Dren.

I did not want to leave. Mephala's story was insane, and no doubt full of falsehoods. If I left for Akavir I would risk death for myself and everyone who came with me. But staying would be even worse. And Helseth’s enemies would no doubt make a martyr of me if I were to commit suicide or turn myself in.

I sighed. There was but one course of action left for me.

I threw the crumpled scroll into the fire and watched it burn.

This post has been edited by bbqplatypus: Feb 5 2012, 01:46 PM

Epilogue

I am leaving here – defeated, perhaps, for now…though I do not feel as though I have lost. The mortal life I once knew is gone…then again, it was never meant to last in the first place. My wife now waits for me in the halls of Sovngarde. And as for Svetja…I can always hope. Life in Morrowind will continue, with or without my presence. Things will happen as they are meant to.

But do not mistake my acceptance for fatalism. I am not a slave to events, nor to prophecy, nor to the machinations of the et’Ada. My destiny is mine and mine alone to accept or reject as I so choose. I could have refused to leave and stayed to face the fate that awaited me. I could just as easily have never delivered the package to Caius. I could have died – or even killed myself if I wanted. Or I could have killed Helseth where he stood and seized his crown for myself.

I certainly had enough supporters. After all, I was a reincarnated war hero who ruled over Resdaynia in a previous life. I was loved and respected. I commanded thousands of soldiers, and wielded significant political power. Three hundred men proved that they valued their loyalty to me above that to their country.

Most of them valued their lives as well, though. As promised, Helseth allowed them clemency – provided they got on their knees and begged for it. Some refused. The Redoran soldiers, to a man, chose exile instead, following me literally to the edge of Nirn.

And we will likely remain there for a very long time – years, in fact. Some might not return at all. And I suspect that the Webspinner may have set these events in motion that I may die far from home.

But I do not intend to die there. And I feel that her deception carries more than a modicum of truth to it (as all the best lies do). I will see this mission through to the end. And when I am finished, I will sail back across the eastern ocean, back to my homeland, to set right what has gone wrong. I shall topple the Spider King and watch over my people once more.

Morrowind will have changed. How or to what extent I cannot say, but it will change while I am gone. And I fear even more than death the possibility that something terrible shall happen while I am away; that the Black Hand of Mephala has snatched away my people’s greatest protector. In fact, I am becoming increasingly certain every day that calamity will strike Veloth ere I make landfall once again upon her eastern shores. But I do not despair. Change and catastrophe are inevitable – a constant throughout the Mundus. I will have no control over what my country will be like when I get back. But I take comfort in having affected how it will be when I leave it.

But what, exactly, have I left behind? Change – a House restructured, a demon defeated, a new peace established. But also ruin; the detritus and crumbling leftovers of my time here – a people’s faith falling apart at the foundations, the last shreds of my vain hope for a normal existence…and my own legend. The Legend will remain and take root in the collective imagination of Veloth. There it will grow until its vines strangle the last memory of my humanity. That which made me human, that which made me vulnerable, will be lost to time. I shall cease to be a Man and become the Archetype, an amalgamation of stories told around campfires. I leave my homeland a stately bird. I shall return a murder of ravens.

And that is why I also leave behind these memoirs – an account of my last days here, that all may know that I, too, was once human. I was not always a storybook hero. I have dreamed, bled, suffered, and loved. Read it. Learn it. And above all, remember it. I am Grignr Star-Mane, Hero of Red Mountain, Protector of Morrowind. I am mortal, like you. Do not forget me.

This post has been edited by bbqplatypus: Nov 26 2008, 09:39 AM

Bravo! Remarkable. These last two entries are fabulous! The note from Dren, Star-Mane's Epilogue... bloody brilliant!

I do agree with canis here! Wonderful story really! You did a great job BBQ.....maybe you will consider pleasing us with more examples of your talent??

Well, there is this one idea that I have. It's really, really ambitious - possibly the most ambitious story I have ever seriously thought about writing. The structure is a bit like 2920, at least conceptually. I'm not going to promise anything yet (or give anything away about the storyline) - it's probably going to take a big time commitment. For a while I was considering making it an RP, but I had already decided on the characters and direction I wanted, and didn't want to sacrifice anything. Again, not promising anything there. If I can't do it right, I won't be doing it at all.

In the meantime, I've got an idea for a one-shot story - something much more lighthearted. I hope to have that up soon.

This post has been edited by bbqplatypus: Nov 12 2008, 05:33 AM

An intriguing ending to an interesting story. I'm glad to see that he triumphed (sort of) in the end, and that he chose to spare Helseth's life when he realized that Helseth had also been played. Thanks for sharing this story with us.

A story is worth nothing if there is no audience to tell it to. Thanks for reading.

This post has been edited by bbqplatypus: Nov 12 2008, 05:33 AM

GEEZ! Writing my planned follow-up to this is going to be even tougher than I imagined. I was hoping the Lore sub-forum at the Bethesda boards might help, but those guys are master obscurantists. It might take a while.

I think I am very slowly getting the hang of things, though. I'm learning a couple things I didn't know or understand before. Just a couple, mind you. It's slow going, but I think I'll manage. Hopefully, I'll be finished before TES V comes out.

I'm posting this HERE because I don't know where else to put it.

Ah, I love the Lore Forum. I'm not terribly active in it anymore (nor am I especially active on the Bethsoft forum in general, nowadays, save for the ESF Artistry thread) but I do lurk around there still, on occasion.

Taking that next step up in writing is difficult. I've got nowhere on my most ambitious project of late, though I think I've managed to talk it up enough now to raise expectations for it... wait... dammit!

Yeah, reading the discussions in the Lore Forum is a lot like looking at your own nose. You can kinda sorta vaguely see it, and you know there's a nose there. It's just obscured in your peripheral vision. And if you stare at it too long, you'll go cross-eyed.

This post has been edited by bbqplatypus: Nov 23 2008, 02:44 AM