Incredible descriptions of Ilunibi. The feeling of Sudhendra's loathing for the 6th House is palpable. The scene with Dagoth Gares was phenomenal. This story is a rare and precious gift. My thanks to you for sharing it.

"of" for "if"

This post has been edited by treydog: Aug 29 2005, 03:00 PM

Once more bundled up in a hooded robe, the first signs of the disease now visible on my skin in the form of expanding reddish patches (which itched abominably), I walked through the streets to Cosades’ house. The spymaster took me by the shoulder as I entered and guided me to a seat. Oddly, I felt much stronger than I had yestere, although there was an odd buzzing in my head ~ as though of a voice speaking on the threshold of hearing ~ that made concentrating difficult.

“I have some news that might cheer you,” he said as he sat opposite me. “Late last night I was contacted by an Edward Theman who suggested that I should send a message to some Telvanni wizard named Fyr. Just this morning I got an answer back that suggests that this wizard wishes to see you. According to this Theman, the wizard has a passion for Dwemer artefacts so I’d like you to take this…” here Cosades gave me a Dwemer Cylinder “…and speak to him. Since he and you are affiliated by House, he might be able to help you.”

“Arch-Magister,” Divayth said with a bow, “your Mouth contacted me to say that he feared you had contracted Corprus. I see that his fears were well founded. Tell me Arch-Magister, what do you know of the Divine Disease?”

When I admitted that I knew very little, he nodded. “Very well. Then I shall take the liberty of educating you. Corprus cannot be caught in the conventional sense. I can stand next to you for an entire day and I still wouldn’t contract it. Which makes the steadily increasing number of victims a little odd, wouldn’t you say? It is my belief that Corprus can only be inflicted on someone by a person already deeply infected and that the infection isn’t carried out in any manner I can determine.

“Additionally, Corprus seems to prevent any other disease from taking hold, as well as increasing the victim’s strength…”

“And driving them insane,” I added bitterly.

“Yes,” he said, baffling me totally by then saying, “and no. You see the majority of victims do, as you so rightly say, go mad. Some, however, seem to undergo a strange transmogrification ~ growing incredibly powerful. I did have one such specimen a couple of centuries ago but the changes made it so unpredictable that, in the end, I had to destroy it.”

“All very interesting,” I said.

“…But not what you wish to hear, eh Arch-Magister?” Divayth said with a grin. “Then let us get down to business. I have, I believe, found a cure for Corprus…” he held up a hand to forestall whatever it was I was about to say “…but there is a very good chance it will kill you rather than cure you. As I see it, you have very little choice, but I want you to go down into the Corprusarium and see for yourself what fate awaits you if you choose not to take the potion.”

My protestations that I had already faced the distorted and malformed results of Corprus infection fell on deaf ears: for unfathomable purposes of his own Divayth wished me to visit the Corprusarium. And, when someone is holding out a possible cure to the disease that is ravaging your body ~ and is a four thousand year old and incredibly puissant wizard ~ there is a powerful incentive to do as they wish. Descending from the chambers at the top of Tel Fyr, I made my way down the sloping passageway into the rough chamber hewn out of the living rock that lay at the passageway’s end. There a Khajiiti named Vistha-Kai addressed me.

“The Lord Fyr has told Vistha-Kai that the Dark Elf is permitted to enter,” it said, indicating the heavily studded wooden door behind it. “But listen to the words Vistha-Kai now says. Do not harm those within for, if you do, Vistha-Kai has orders to lock Dark Elf inside and throw away key. And, if Dark Elf will take advise from Vistha-Kai, not to even be thinking of hurting Daughters of my Lord Fyr…”

“Insolent creature,” I hissed, my hand straying towards the hilt of my sword. Vistha-Kai’s words infuriated me and I couldn’t understand why. The Suthay-Raht took a careful step back, reaching for its own sword. With an effort, I crushed the murderous rage and took a shaky breath. “My apologies,” I managed after a few tense moments, “I will take your advice.”

The Khajiiti, still unsure, kept a wary eye on me as it unbolted the heavy door. Steeling myself, I prepared a spell of Shadow-Weave and stepped into the stinking gloom of the Corprusarium. Directly in front of me was another door while, left and right, passages snaked off into the yellow-tinted distance. A bestial roar was all the excuse I needed to wrap the cloaking spell around me and vanish from mortal ken.

The journey into the depths of the Corprusarium is one that I shall never forget. Wrapped in the cloak of a Shadow-Weave, I walked unremarked amidst the shambling ruins that inhabited these caverns. My heart went out to them, so many distorted and malformed bodies ~ impossible to tell if they had been Man or Mer ~ screaming their uncomprehending rage at the indifferent walls. Some of the unfortunates were not too far gone, Meric or Mannish features still visible under that distorted flesh. Others had long since lost any vestige of humanity, little more than shambling, lurching monsters ~ devoid of reason or comprehension. With tears in my eyes, as much for these poor unfortunates as for myself, I stumbled on until I came to the central chamber of the refuge for these damned souls.

Ahead of me was the most bizarre sight I have ever seen. Since the Corprus-beasts seemed to be keeping their distance from the wooden platform, I stood there and stared ~ desperately trying to convince myself what I was seeing was no Corprus-induced hallucination. One of Divayth’s daughters, Uupse I think it was, stood near a large cupboard from which she was fetching various herbs. But it was the outlandish creature next to her that half convinced me I was having a fever-dream.

My first thought was that the Mer was seated in some sort of travelling machine constructed from the lower portion of a type I animalcule. However, the scar tissue that surrounded the join between flesh and metal told me that this wasn’t so and that this fantastic being was actually melded in some fashion with the metallic construct. Once I had got over that shock, I saw that the Mer bore unmistakable signs of Corprus; the weeping lesions and mottled red patches. With a skittering sound, the metallic legs rotated the creature around to face me.

“Ahh,” a deep and melodious voice said, “we have a visitor.”

“Who?” I managed to gasp, a deep and unsettling suspicion overwhelming me.

“I am Yagrum Bagarn,” the meld said with a pleasant smile. “And yes, your suspicion is correct, I am of the race you called Dwemer.”

Ahhh.....Sudhendra.....in the Corprusarium.....as always I revive the moment I played this part......so well described..hehe I could almost sense the odour down there.....


Wonderful, Override!!!!! Just plain wonderful........

"How, where, what…” I spluttered, unable to get my words out.

Uupse provided me with a low stool and I sat, listening in fascination as Yagrum told me his tale. He had been travelling in what he called ‘The Outer Realms’ and, when he returned, all of the rest of his people had simply vanished. He had, he said, searched for them for many years both in the Mundus and in the ‘Outer Realms’, coming at last to the vast halls beneath the Red Mountain. Of that visit he would say nothing other than that Red Mountain was where he’d contracted Corprus. Driven half-mad, he mutilated himself and created the amalgamation of Mer and machine that I could now see. Divayth had rescued him from his self-imposed purgatory and brought him here. While he had not cured the Dwemer of Corprus, Divayth had halted the encroaching madness ~ for the time being at least.

“Now,” Yagrum said in his melodious voice, “are you returning to the tower or are you, like me, consigned to spend the rest of your time down here?”

“I have to see Divayth,” I husked.

“Then I ask a boon of you,” the last surviving Dwemer said. “Lord Fyr brought these boots down for me to look at. Such shoddy workmanship,” he added in disgust as he handed over the heavy Dwemer-metal boots. “I’ve done what I can with them and would ask you to return them to the Lord Fyr. By the way,” he added with more than a hint of bitterness, “there’s no need to cloak yourself ~ my brothers will not attack one with the taint of Corprus on them.”

I wasn’t sure that I trusted Yagrum that far but, preparing the spell just in case, I stepped off the platform and into the chamber. One poor soul, malformed almost beyond belief, turned and started to shamble towards me. However, ten paces away it suddenly stopped and stood there, swaying uncertainly. Then, with a moan, it turned and shuffled off into the darkness. There followed a most harrowing journey as I backtracked my route through the tunnels and chambers that made up the Corprusarium. Yagrum had been correct, the beasts were not inclined to attack, although I had several tense moments.

“Now you have some appreciate of that which awaits you,” Divayth said when I returned to his study. He held up a small gold and glass phial, a startlingly blue liquid sloshing around inside. “This is the Corprus cure,” he said. “But I must insist that you take it right here and right now.”

“Give it me,” I said without a moment’s hesitation. Divayth extended his hand and I snatched the flask and unscrewed the top. In a single, quick motion, I drank the seething blue potion…

“Father,” a voice yelled, “come quickly, I think she’s awake.”

A cool hand smoothed my brow and I opened my eyes to look up into the face of one of Divayth’s daughters ~ Beyte I think. There was a sudden feeling of presence and I glanced at the doorway to see Divayth sweep in. He sat on the edge of the bed and examined me quickly. “Fascinating,” he said, “the potion worked, it has completely removed the symptoms of the disease.”

“Wait,” I said, “removed the symptoms?”

“It was never my intention to cure the disease Arch-Magister,” Divayth said smoothly. “What I have done is removed the symptoms.”

“And you planned to tell me this when exactly?” I shouted, overcome by fear and frustration.

“Calm yourself,” he said. “Corprus has a couple of interesting side effects. The immunity to all known diseases is one that I have already mentioned, I felt sure you would infer the other benefit from your visit to the Corprusarium.”

As he looked at me, the Septim suddenly dropped. “Yagrum is over three thousand years old,” I gasped.

Divayth gave me one of his rare smiles. “Exactly Arch-Magister,” he said. “Without the benefit of Telvanni techniques he has lived ten times longer than he should. Indeed, you will find that, in addition to the blessing of continued good health, you will live a very, very long time. Without the creeping onset of madness and the fear or risk of disfigurement, I may add. Now, if you will excuse me, I find that I suddenly have a large number of patients that need immediate treatment.”

I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to process what Fyr had told me. I really should return to Caius Cosades and let him know that I was cured but I needed time to think. After all, he had sent me into Ilunibi knowing that there was a chance I would contract Corprus: I needed to consider that. There were other problems too.

Dagoth Ur, Caius, Nibani ~ all of them seem so sure that I am the Incarnate, this Lord Nerevar Reborn. Some, like Caius Cosades and Nibani Maesa, have doubts that I am actually the Nerevarine ~ although Nibani seems less doubtful than the spymaster. And then there is the Sharmat, Dagoth Ur. His servant, Gares, addressed me as though I was this Nerevar. While there was a chance that this was some scheme by the Sharmat to trick me into heretical behaviour, there was one major flaw. It was too Byzantine, too complex a scheme.

And then there was the other matter. Nibani had already said that I met two of the criteria that denoted the Incarnate ~ the identity of my parents and the aspect of my birth. Now there was this, and I could still remember Nibani Maesa’s soft voice saying: Neither disease nor age shall wither the Nerevarine.

This post has been edited by OverrideB1: Aug 28 2005, 11:56 AM

A truly wonderful remark......in an excellent addition......great Override.....

The fight with Dagoth Gares was every bit as hideous and foul as himself. So very good. Sudhendra's compassion with the other corprus victims was a nice touch.

Yes...i finally caught up with this...but i have a question. in the one where you prepared for Illunbi you said you put faggots under your arms...What the heck are faggots(besides the usual).

By the usual, I assume you mean ~ usually used for a torch or lighting fires. Please note the use of the double "g"

ohhh...thank god...im glad she wasn't strapping somthing else under her arms.

Great updates, but wasn't the guy at the entrance to the Corprusarium an Argonian?

Erm... big, scaly, lizard-head? No, definitely a Khajiit...




(runs off to do some editing)

Again, vivid and moving descriptions of Sudhendra's experiences. I really like the fact that, with her growing power, she reserves her anger for those who misuse power. She is compassionate to the corprus inmates and even to Yagrum, fussy elf that he is. And, as always, she refuses to rush off to do anyone's bidding- she will think and analyze first....

A good night’s sleep had worked wonders, especially as I hadn’t been afflicted by any odd dreams. I was even feeling slightly less ill-disposed towards Caius Cosades. Divayth was already hard at work in his study and didn’t seem to hear my parting words or my heartfelt thanks. I stepped outside and breathed the fresh air that was sweeping in over Zafirbel Bay and smiled. Opening the void, I directed the passageway to Balmora and stepped out into the main square. My excellent mood was soon to be shattered.

“I am being recalled,” Cosades said, throwing a handful of items into a large case. “Ostensibly it’s because of my ‘problem’ with Moon Sugar…” we both laughed. Despite the pipe and paraphernalia, I had never seen Cosades take so much as a stiff drink, let along ‘chase the Khajiit’. “I suspect, however, that the Emperor has another task for me. That means another Spymaster will be appointed to Vvardenfell in my place. Until then…

“Well, I am promoting you, effective immediately, to the rank of Operative. That makes you the ranking member of the Blades here on the island. I have some things I think you’ll need and some final orders. These garments and the ring, you might find handy. They all contain quite subtle enchantments that are difficult to detect. Oh, and here’s your pay, it’s not much I’m afraid but it should be useful.

“As for this old place,” he said, looking around, “the rental is paid until the end of next year so you might as well take the key. I fancy it’ll make a slightly more secure hideout than that Orc’s house. Now, my final orders…”

Cosades took a deep breath and I knew, in that moment, that he was sailing to an uncertain future and that he was certain that his days were numbered. “Speak to Mehra Milo,” he said, “and get your hands on copies of those lost prophecies. Milo is being watched by the Ordinators, who’ve long suspected that she has ties to the Dissident Priests. If she gets into trouble she will leave you a message addressed to ‘Amaya’.”

With unexpected suddenness, Caius Cosades stuck out his hand in the western fashion and, as we shook hands for what was to prove to be the final time, he said, “for what it’s worth, it has been a pleasure working with you Operative Vahl. I honestly believe that you are the Nerevarine…” And, with those words, he swung the pack onto his shoulder and strode out of the door. I sat a while in the now deserted bed-and-basket, sorting through my conflicting feelings. Part of me, the growing Telvanni part, was exultant. Part of me, the part that still clung to western values, was sorry to see him go.

But, sitting here feeling sorry for myself wasn’t going to accomplish anything. Locking the door after me, I opened a new portal and stepped through it and onto the bridge that led to Vivec City’s Foreign Quarter. A gondolier took me from there around to the Arena and, from there; it was a fairly short walk through the crowds to the Temple. There was no sign of Mehra Milo in the library so I had to risk going to her personal quarters. The door was locked so, while the Ordinator was making his way down the stairs on his patrol, there was a silent flare of magic and the door swung open.

As I had feared, the room was remarkable for it’s lack of Milo. There was no sign of a struggle but there were a number of levitation potions on the bureau ~ sitting on top of a hastily written note. The note, addressed to Amaya, said that she had gone to the Ministry of Truth. Amaya is to speak to Alvela Saram, who is on duty outside the Ministry, and check that Milo is still there. Oh, and Amaya should remember to fetch those Divine Intervention scrolls from the Foreign Quarter. It was a childish code but it seems that the Ordinators hadn’t got around to searching Milo’s room yet. Let me make things a little more difficult for them…

Having removed the scrawled note and all traces of the levitation potions, I stood beside the door until I was certain the Ordinator was moving away and slipped out into the corridor. Returning outside, I took a few moments to consider what I should do. Far overhead loomed the floating rock that was the Ministry of Truth. Getting up there would be no problem, and I had a couple of Divine Intervention scrolls with me: no, the problem was going to be moving around inside.

Alvela Saram responded to the code word ‘Amaya’ with a start, frantically glancing around to make sure nobody could overhear us. Which, since we were several hundred feet above the Temple and standing on a bare wooden platform attached to the side of a floating rock, was pretty unlikely. “You’re here to rescue Mehra?” she asked.

Biting back a sarcastic response, I simply nodded. The worried looking female continued to speak. “There are some of us who are quite sympathetic to the cause but, if you kill anyone while you’re in there, you’ll loose what little sympathy you have. Now, Mehra’s being held in cell 6 on the upper level, I can’t give you the key to her cell but I can give you the key to the outer doors.”

“Turn around,” I said, unhooking my scabbard from my belt and holding it like a club.

“Why, what are you…” I cut short the woman’s rising voice by putting my finger to her lips. “Would you rather explain why you gave me the key if they catch me inside?” I asked. She shook her head, wide-eyed. Turning her back on me, she stood staring out at the horizon ~ right up to the moment I struck her across the back of the head with the hilt of my sword. She went down like a sack of Ash Yams. After quickly checking she was unconscious and safe, I quickly opened the outer door and stepped inside ~ coming face to face with an Ordinator.

“What are you doing here,” he asked, taking in my brown robe before adding, “Pilgrim?”

“I have some scrolls I wish to donate to the Brothers of Indoril,” I replied with a wide, disingenuous smile. Reaching into my pack, I withdrew the scroll case and fetched out a couple of scrolls.

“Let me take those,” the Ordinator said, stretching out his hand. Still smiling, I passed the scrolls to him and turned towards the door. A quick glance over my shoulder showed that the Ordinator had turned to take the scrolls into the office behind him. Swinging open the door, I fed magicka into the Shadow-Weave spell I’d constructed. Allowing the door to swing shut, I backed away from it as quietly as I could and made my way up the slope.

As silent as a shadow, wrapped in the gloom of this place, I flitted along the corridor and up to the door ~ which, quite naturally, proved to be locked. As quickly as I could, I constructed the form of Ondusi’s Lock-Breaker in my mind and, gripping the crude wooden door-handle, I pulse magicka into it. With a sound that seemed to reverberate through the whole construct, the lock shattered. I yanked open the door and slid through the smallest gap I could, pulling it closed behind me as the Ordinator’s footsteps sounded in the hallway behind me. A quick locking spell would hold the door firmly shut and prevent anyone from noticing that it had been magically opened ~ at least, until someone tried to open it with a key.

Dismissing that problem from my mind, I turned to the next: namely, how in the name of the Gods did I move through this place unnoticed. The Shadow-Weave would hold for a while longer, and I had ample reserves of magicka to feed it with, assuming I didn’t panic and make a mess of casting the spell. Ahead of me was an upward sloping passage. Since Alvela Saram had said that Mehra was being kept in the cells on the upper levels, up seemed a good idea.

Unfortunately, the direction up was filled with rather a lot of Ordinator coming down. Two of them to be exact and, in a hundred heart-beats they’d be on me. Struck by a sudden inspiration, I constructed the shadowy forms of a pair of wings in my mind and breathed life into them ~ scrambling upwards as quickly as I could. “What was that?” one of the Ordinators said, peering around uncertainly.

“What was what?” the other asked.

Pheeeww.....ok so now I can breathe again..even though you left us with that cliffie of Sud just floating around in the Ministry of Truth...over the heads of ordinatos....Oh how I remember playing that part.......really exciting!

Can´t wait to find out how she´s gonna get Mehra out.......

The scene with Caius Cosades and Sudhendra's part joy, part sadness about CC being recalled to Cyrodiil were nicely done.

English is not my native language so if I just don't understand the above quote, then I apologize; is 'along' supposed to be 'alone'?

Go for stealth and distractions...at least she didn'tdo the normal Pick-Up-A-Rock-And-Throw-It rutine.

"I could have sworn I saw something down there…”

“You’re imagining things,” his colleague said, “now hurry up, or we’re going to be late.”

I held my breath as the two guards walked underneath me as I hung up against the ceiling. With a wicked grin, I turned over so I was face-to-face with the dark rock and, feeding a little more power into the levitation spell, I crawled along the roof of the passageway like some invisible insect.

There was another door at the top of the passageway, and I allowed the two spells to dissipate as I stood in front of it. Quickly, I re-established the Shadow-Weave around myself before pulsing magic into the lock and shattering it. Behind it was the massive cavern that formed the heart of this floating rock.

Wooden decking stretched away in front of me, a series of platforms that descended to the lower third of the huge chamber. Around the edges of the chamber, and directly across the middle, ran walkways of the same wooden planking. I didn’t need to test it; I could hear the wood creaking as the Ordinator-Guards strolled around it in their assigned patrol patterns. Any attempt to sneak across the flooring would set up an awful row. It was frustrating, I could see Cell 6 from where I was standing and it would have been but the work of heartbeats to get to it. Well, I reasoned, if you can’t go across, you can always go up…

Sinking slowly towards the ground, I studied the lock on Mehra Milo’s cell. Carefully constructing the spell in my mind, I followed the guards’ patterns as they moved around the gantries. A few minutes later, I energised the spell, shattering the lock, while the guards were in the best positions not to notice. Moving quickly, all attempts at stealth abandoned, I swung the cell door open and stepped inside. A quick magical pulse barred the door ~ although anyone with the slightest skill with a lock pick or the ability to dispel spells would have it open in a heartbeat. Still, it would suffice.

“You!” Mehra Milo gasped as I allowed the Shadow-Weave to dissolve and dissipate.

“Yes, me,” I replied, opening the robe and fetching out the Divine Intervention scroll. “You were looking for one of these?”

“Thank you,” she said. “Listen, Cosades said someone would contact me about the Lost Prophecies. Speak to Blatta Hateria in Ebonheart. Tell her you want to go fishing and that I recommended her.” With that, Mehra unrolled the scroll and recited the words written on it. In a cloud of silvery sparkles she vanished from sight. Which left me standing in a cell in the Ministry of Truth. Not the ideal position for me to be in so I took care of that.

Stepping out of the Void in Ebonheart, I made my way down to the docks. Blatta Hateria was occupying the same spot on the docks as when I’d last seen her and her immediate reaction was, “whatever you want picked up from where-ever, find somebody else to do it, I’m busy.”

“That’s a shame,” I said, “since Mehra Milo said that you do some excellent fishing trips.” The woman looked at me sharply, and then gestured for me to climb aboard her ship. In minutes we were sea-borne and heading to the east along the coast. Hateria wouldn’t say where we were going, but she did say that it was likely to be a long voyage. With a shrug, I settled down in the prow of the skiff and promptly fell asleep.

“Wake up,” a voice said, interrupting my dream. “Wake up, you were dreaming. We’ve arrived…” I jerked awake, staring at Blatta Hateria with a startled look. I had been dreaming about my arrival in Vvardenfell and the eerie coincidence of her using the self-same words that Jiub had used made me shiver. She ushered me ashore, where I was met by a wisp of a Mer named Vevrana Aryon.

“Late,” he wheezed, looking at me myopically. “As in too. The monastery is closing up in a few minutes. Up the path, if you’re quick…” I turned and ran up the path he’d indicated, barely catching the words, “Milo’s in the library, with Master Barelo.” As I sprinted, I could hear a terrible grinding noise from overhead, the sound of stone against stone. Rounding the final bend of the path, I came to a clearing. There was no doorway, no sign of a monastery ~ just three walls of solid black rock rising up towards the sky.

“The portal only opens at dusk and dawn,” Aryon wheezed from behind me, making me jump. “Might as well settle down for the night.” He gave a broad grin, revealing two solitary teeth. “Me, I’m ready for a warm bed…” With that, he made a quick gesture and vanished in a swirl of purple light.

“Fine,” I snapped, addressing the empty air. “I’ll just wait out here shall I?” It was the work of a few moments to erect my tent and crawl inside.

lol! She got left outside. happened to me the first time too. i tried to go train but i got lost and got back after dark...i had to wait another day.

Great writing as always. Good description of her conflicted feelings about Caius. I also like the fact that she gets stuck outside the Dissident Priests' hideout- everything doesn't always go right, no matte how powerful one becomes.

Dawn greeted me with the same terrible grating of stone on stone. I was just in time to see a huge section of the cliff finish rising up like half-a-Kollop, revealing a short passageway. Realising that I would have very little time, I quickly bundled my tent back together and walked down to the ornate metal door at the end of the passage. It swung open at my touch and I stepped inside.

I found myself in a huge vaulted chamber, the walls rising high overhead and sloping inwards to create a vast area. In the centre of the area was the traditional votive pit of the local religion, while, high overhead, various brightly coloured banners depicting the Travels of Saint Veloth and other scenes of religious significance fluttered in the slight breeze. Approaching the lone priest, I enquired after Milo Mehra. “You will find her downstairs in the library Sed,” he replied, pointing towards the right-hand passageway.

“Sed Vahl,” Milo said, bowing her head in a sign of respect, “I never got a chance to thank you for rescuing me. Please, if there is anything I can do?”

“Actually, there is,” I replied. “I am looking for information on the Seven Visions and the Lost Prophecies.”

“Then you have come to the right place,” she said. Turning to a wizened old Mer, she introduced him. “This is Gilvas Barelo, the foremost expert on the Ashlander prophecies and religion.”

“What do you wish to know, young Dunmer?” Barelo quavered. Taking out my travelling inkpot and quill, I spread some parchment on the table as he and I sat.

“Why don’t you start by telling me why you are called ‘Dissident Priests’?” I said.

“We are loyal to the Temple, let me make that clear from the outset,” the ancient Mer replied. “However, we fear that the Sharmat, Dagoth Ur, draws his power from the same source as Ayem, Seht, and the Lord Vehk. There is some unease, for it seems that the Tribunal are weakening and, as they do, the Sharmat grows stronger.”

“The Sharmat, Dagoth Ur?” I asked.

“The dark heart of our religion,” he said apologetically. “For countless millennia, the Tribunal has kept him trapped, locked behind the GhostFence where he and his Corprus beasts could do little harm. Several centuries ago, a large force of Ordinators was sent to Ghostgate, they remain there still. And, but a decade ago, their forces were bolstered by the addition of a large contingent of Buoyant Armigers.” He paused, and Milo Mehra quickly poured him some water from a pitcher as he coughed into his hand. “Now, where was I? Oh yes, faith remained strong in the Tribunal while the Sharmat was contained. Now, even with the forces arrayed at the Ghostgate, travellers and nearby towns are beset by Corprus beasts, and faith falters. We believe that there is a saviour, the Nerevarine that the Ashlanders foretell, that will save us all. Unfortunately, the Temple feels that we should all be united in one belief at this time.”

“So,” I said, half to myself, “Dagoth Ur is responsible for Corprus.” Barelo nodded in confirmation. “Then how do the Lost Prophecies fit into this?”

Gilvas Barelo made a gesture to Milo and she scurried off, returning a few seconds later with a scroll, which she placed in front of Barelo. “This is a copy of the original prophecy, along with our annotations. We have struggled for quite some time to decipher the prophecy and our notes represent our best… guesses. In short, it says that An Outlander, welcomed as a guest, will confront the seven curses beneath Red Mountain. The Nerevarine’s hand, blessed by Azura, will wield the cursed blade, bringing justice to House Dagoth, House Dwemer, or both.”

He coughed again and sipped more water before continuing, “the prophecy specifically states that the Nerevarine will be an outlander. That would not sit well with the Ashlanders, many of whom hate and revile them. It could well explain, however, how the prophecy was lost. Please, take the scroll and our notes, they may help you unravel this mystery.”

“Will confront the curses?” I asked, “Do you know what that means?”

“Not exactly,” he replied. “There’s a notation about the seven curses on the scroll you have. The first curse is the curse of fire, the second ~ the curse of Ash, the third is the curse of flesh… and so on. Quite what it means we do not know.”

“Our best guess,” Mehra said, interrupting, “is that fire and ash have something to do with Red Mountain, Corprus is the curse of flesh. We don’t know what is meant by ‘Despair’, ‘Ghosts’, and ‘Seed’, but we think the curse of dreams has something to do with the plague of nightmares that are keeping people awake.”

“Thank you Milo,” Barelo said with a degree of asperity. “There is little more we can tell you,” he said, “but I have some books here that give various accounts of what happened at Red Mountain you may find useful.”

“The lost prophesy mentioned something about how the Nerevarine’s hand would be blessed by Azura. And something about a cursed blade?”

“These are secrets hidden from us at this time,” Gilvas Barelo replied. “Although, the Heirographa does make mention of the Moon-And-Star being born by the Nerevarine. However, this is hopelessly cryptic: the emblems of Azura are born by the Brothers of Indoril and the reference could mean anything. Although the Heirographa is adamant on one point: the Moon-And-Star are deadly to anyone other than the Nerevarine.”

I sat, the midday meal uneaten in front of me, and tried to make some sense of what I had learned. The details were bewildering to say the very least. One thing was very certain though, I needed to get this information to Nibani Maesa ~ perhaps she would have more luck in making sense of it than I could. Since I had never reset my Mark, I had a quick way out of Holamayan that didn’t require me to wait until dusk. “Ut locus Ego eram pro,” I said. The air darkened around me and I was suddenly standing at the edge of the Urshilaku Camp.

Nibani Maesa sat and listened as I told her of my experiences in Ilunibi and the effect that Divayth’s ‘cure’ had had. She was, quite naturally, sceptical but when I spent a while with a diseased Scrib without contracting the Yellow Tick it was infected with, she was convinced. “This is most disconcerting Sudhendra Vahl,” she said. “You have fulfilled three of the criteria that indicate you are the Nerevarine. I must study the prophecies that you have recovered and consult with the Ancestors through dream to understand this. Return to me when the moons have passed and I shall speak with you again.”

Bowing low, I took my leave of the Urshilaku Wise-Woman and stepped outside into the gathering coolness of the afternoon. There were a couple of things I wished to do before I retired for the night, and one of them was something I wasn’t looking forward too.

“But Sed Vahl,” Edward said, taking a step back and raising his hands defensively, “I swear that was the first time I have spoken with Cosades.” I had warped into Sadrith Mora and swept into the Telvanni Council Hall, ordering the other Mouths to leave me alone with Edward Theman. Then I had asked him how he had happened to get in touch with Caius Cosades. “A message arrived, saying that you were afflicted with Corprus,” he continued. “I’d heard that the Lord Fyr was working on a cure and that he thought he was close… So, I sent a message back saying this Cosades should contact the Lord Fyr. I swear Sed Telvanni Vahl, that’s all there was to it.”

I looked at him silently for a while, and then nodded. “Very well, I believe you Edward,” I said softly. “But if I ever hear the slightest rumour that you’ve been speaking to anyone from the Empire again… Well, it would be wise to remember that I am Telvanni.” I watched him turn pale, and he nodded. I didn’t need to speak the threat; just the reminder of who I was was sufficient. Smiling at him, I praised his quick thinking.

There was one last task that I wished to perform before I took my leave of Vvardenfell. Returning to Tel Vahl, I instructed Kallin Basalius to be on her guard. “I am likely to be in conflict with the Temple,” I explained. “It’s unlikely that the Temple will make a move against us here but I just thought I’d warn you.”

“No worries Sed Vahl,” Kallin said with a grin. “I’ve got some surprises planned for anyone fool enough to take us on here.”

“Unpleasant ones I hope,” I replied.

“Oh yeah,” she said with a truly evil grin. I grinned back and took myself off to Ebonheart. From there I had Asciene Rane teleport me back to Mournhold. Why there? It is simple enough to understand. Given the way that news travels on Vvardenfell, it was only a matter of time before my investigation into the cult of the Nerevarine and the Lost Prophecies became known to the upper echelons of the Temple hierarchy. When that happened, I was likely to be excommunicated and marked as a heretic.

If you’re looking for a heretic, what is the last place that you’d look? Right: the heart of a religious enclave on the mainland wouldn’t exactly be high on the list of likely sites to check. Besides, as far as I was aware, I was the only person who’d managed to arrange travel between Vvardenfell and the rest of Morrowind province. That meant I could spend a little less time worrying about Temple assassins and a little more time worrying about what was going on.

Things like: how long did Maesa mean when she said ‘when the moons have passed’? I had thought that she meant a month, but that seemed a rather long time to be communing with ancestral spirits. Perhaps I will wait a few days and then return to the Urshilaku Camp? There were other concerns too ~ like what part was I playing in the Nerevarine Prophesy? I still had a hard time believing that I was some Dunmeri general that had been resurrected, despite the (admittedly circumstantial) evidence that seemed to be building around me. Still, sitting and brooding on things I have no control over seemed a particularly fruitless exercise.