This contains spoilers for the Tribunal expansion. I imagine this is no longer a concern since the expansion has been out for so long but I thought it would be prudent to mention it here anyway.

Unlike "Rashelle At Lokken", this one is an in-progress work, actually being written now. As a consequence the updates won't be nearly so often.

This story occurs before the events in "Rashelle At Lokken".

--
Rashelle And The Mad God
by blockhead aka pcc

Chapter 1. Dark Brotherhood


I knew it was not going to be a good day. Firstly, it was that time of the month for me and that is never a good time. Secondly, I was rudely awakened by someone who was trying to murder me in my bed.

His glass dagger had just rebounded off of my ebony cuirass. People think I'm nuts when I tell them I sleep in my armor. Situations like this are why I do.

An elbow in his face backed him off a foot or so and gave me time to give him a stiff kick in the usual place. It sent him flying away from the bed but apparently that strange black armor that he wore protected him there because he came right back at me.

I ran him through with Chrysamere. People think I'm nuts because I sleep with a naked claymore. Situations like this are why I do.

I got out of bed and searched the body. No keys. Some gold. No letters or other information. I examined the strange black armor. It was rather nice. I had never seen its like before, very light and flexible, yet tough. The deep blackness of it would certainly help any night-time stealthy activities. It was probably expensive as well.

If it were not for the fact that I don't like my sleep to be interrupted, I would welcome more attacks just for more of this armor.

I removed my boots and I tried the greaves on. They were especially nice. They went well with my Ebony cuirass yet were not hot like most armor is. Of late I had not been wearing any armor save for a cuirass and boots: Vvardenfell was just too hot to wear full armor. I was never cold; only warm or hot. I'm a Breton but there must have been Nord in my ancestry somehow.

I left the greaves on. I put my ebony boots back on. I went to the trap door and poked my head out. It was still dark out but I was too keyed up to go back to sleep.

I closed trap door and got myself ready to go.

Taking the helm and the body, I left my house.

A Hlallu guard approached me immediately. After playing 20 questions he eventually realized that I had been attacked, had lawfully defended myself and was only trying to dispose of the body.

"Couldn't you have waited until you left town before stripping it?"

"It's not every day I get attacked in my own bed. I was not aware there was a protocol involved."

Showing him the helm, I said; "By the way, you wouldn't happen to know who wears armor like this and likes to murder Bretons in their bed, would you?"

He informed me that the helm was that of the Dark Brotherhood. They were assassins. Apparently someone had put a contract out on me. Unlike the Morag Tong, the dark brotherhood would take any contract. They will kill anyone if the drakes were good: legality was not a concern.

He told me that Apelles Matius over in Ebonheart might know more about them. I thanked him and he retreated at speed: as if the dark brotherhood would slay him just for talking to me.

Not a great start to my day. I dumped the body just south of town and then went to the Mages Guild.

"Greetings, Rashelle, what brings you here at this odd hour?", said the Sharn Gra-Muzgob, who was manning the entrance as Greeter this shift.

"Hey Sharn. Nothing much: just a Dark Brotherhood assassin trying to murder me in my sleep."

"That's terrible - you killed him I trust?"

"Yes indeed."

"I trust you disposed of the body?"

"Yes; just now I dragged it south of town."

"Just now you did?"

"Yep."

She turned from me and summoned Galbedir, asking her to cover for her for "a few minutes". Then she scurried outside as fast she could.

Galbedir and I laughed: we both knew she was a necromancer.

I went downstairs and had them teleport me to Vivec. Once there, a cast of Divine intervention teleported me to the Imperial Cult chapel in Ebonheart. From there, it was a short walk to find Apelles Matius.

He initially seemed to doubt me but I showed him the helm and then he remembered that I was the Nerevarine and had some skill in matters pertaining to combat.

He revealed two interesting bits if information. First; the Dark Brotherhood headquarters was somewhere on the mainland, in the city of Mournhold. Secondly, despite the quarantine still in place around Vvardenfell from the Blight, a recently arrived Imperial Mage named Asciene Rane could teleport me there.

He led me to her and, after introductions, explained the situation to her. I thanked him and he left. She then teleported me to Mournhold.

I appeared in a blue room. There were flowers in the room; how did they grow indoors without sunlight? I turned and found myself face to face with an Argonian in expensive robes.

He sniffed and said "fresh game."

he continued. "Greetings, I am Effe Tei. I can teleport you to Ebonheart. You are in the Palace now, in the reception area."

"Thank you, I am Rashelle."

Effe Tei briefly explained the layout of Mournhold. The city was a circle, with the Palace in the center. The remainder of the circle was divided into four sections. The temple was to the south, the plaza Brindisi Dorom to the north. West and East were the Great Bazaar and the Godsreach areas.

Effe informed me that the city was actually built on top of the ruins of the the older city, some of which were accessible underground.

The goddess Amalexia resided in this city, as did the dunmer King Helseth.

In an alarmed tone he asked me; "Are you wearing greaves of the Dark Brotherhood?"

Perhaps wearing the armor of the Dark Brotherhood had been a bad idea.

"These? Oh no; don't be silly! These are padded Capri pants. They are all the rage over on Tel Aruhn. When I wear boots they are more comfortable. When I don't wear boots they let a lot of calf show."

I chatted briefly with a royal guard. His closed helm and closed mannerisms made conversation difficult and brief.

I decided to wander around the castle before going outside. I took the open doorway out of the room and soon found myself with a choice, stairs down or up. Thinking of dungeons, my natural instinct was to choose the down stairwell.

This resulted in my arrival at the Royal Palace basement.

Oddly enough, there were no guards here. I poked through some of the crates and other containers. I was tempted to pinch some salt rice but I refrained.

I found a trap door in the floor. Effe had said something about the Dark Brotherhood in the sewers below the Great Bazaar, not the palace, but I opened the door anyway.

I started to descend the cold slimy rungs of a ladder. I was in a large high hall. Along the center of the hall ran a channel with water in it. The air was moist and the scent wafting along it let me know that these were the sewers.

I paused, gripping the ladder, while my eyes adjusted to the darkness. There were torches here and there and some sort of undefined dim illumination. This area was as large as the Vivec canton sewers but, like everything else in Mournhold, was more ornate than its Vvardenfell counterpart.

A skeleton was running towards the ladder. With one hand I cast a fireball. Most undead are susceptible to fire so that was enough to take care of it.

I descended the rest of the way and stepped away from the latter.

To my right was a dead end. I turned left. The floor was tiled with maroon tiles that formed pretty patterns. Why waste time decorating a sewer?

A rat attacked me. I believe he hurt his teeth on my ebony boots. I simply stared down at him as if to say "who are you kidding?". He sheepishly squeaked and ran away.

Then I saw a skeleton in a hooded robe. That was new. It cast a lightning spell. My birth sign didn't handle it this time. It hurt but I was not in immediate danger so I waited. I wanted to assess the capabilities of this new creature.

The robed skeleton cast another one. And another. How much magicka did this thing have?

I was hurting now. Enough is enough. I quaffed a potion and cast a fireball. The robed skeleton hit me with a health damage spell but this time my birth sign diffused the spell and absorbed the magicka. I promptly used this to cast a larger fireball.

Robes burning, the skeleton collapsed to the ground. Pieces of bone fell into the water.

A memory from my magical studies came to me: I had just fought a lich.

I walked over and examined the lich. It was simply an animated skeleton with a robe, an iron longsword, and an iron shield. The most formidable thing about it had been the large reservoir of magicka.

I resumed walking. The sewer corridor turned to the left and entered a very large room. It was easily larger than a plaza in a Vivec canton, larger than a small village. In the center was a circle of pillars that reached all the way to the ceiling. Inside this was a deeper pool of water. Perhaps this drained into a lower level of sewers.

A goblin ran towards me. I had never encountered a goblin before but I had seen pictures of them in books.

He was a tough critter and he wielded a club that was sturdier than it looked.

As I was finishing him, a durzog attacked me. Again, I had not seen a durzog in Vvardenfell but I knew of them. Goblins often used durzogs as mounts and war beasts. Wherever you encountered one, you tended to also run into the other.

Getting tired of the water, I took an upward ramp out of that large room. This soon led me to a door labeled "Bazaar sewers". How convenient: this is where Effe said the Dark Brotherhood were located.

So I was now in the Bazaar Sewers of Old Mournhold. Ahead of me, the wide and tall passage continued and then curved left. From this came a bonewalker, already hurling Grave Curse spells at me. Another fireball finished him.

To my right was a second passage. I went right.

This passage turned left and down. At the turning was a Khajiit woman. An attempt at conversation yielded only "Ahnia does not know you, so Ahnia has nothing to say to you."

Perhaps the sewers were filled with madmen? I continued on down the passage. The ramp took me back down to the water level. Have I mentioned yet how much I hate water?

There was a ladder going up but I passed it for now. The next section of the passage was smaller and hewn from rock: no pretty tiles here.

I swam, following the passage as it turned left and down. I dove because I thought I saw something there on the bottom. I did: a skeleton who had apparently been slain by an arrow. There was a water breathing potion by the skeleton. The passage was a dead end so, swimming as rapidly as I could as I was running out of breath, I retraced my route.

I returned to the ladder, this time I ascended it.

I found myself on the surface, outdoors, somewhere in Mournhold. The morning sunlight shown on a rich array of blue architecture. Another reminder that I wasn't in Vvardenfell anymore.

While I had urgent business to attend to, regarding the Black brotherhood's misguided attempts to adjust my lifespan, I just could not resist the temptation to wander around here for a bit before returning to the depths.

Vvardenfell is a frontier. This was a city, a major center of government and commerce, and it showed. Everything had a polished and expensive look to it.

I walked around, chatting with people, even the ordinators. Ordinators are never chatty but I try to talk to them anyway. These Ordinators wore a different style of armor from the ones back in Vivec. The helm was the same but not yellow. The color was pastel violet instead. As with everything else in Mournhold, their armor was classier and snazzier than the Vvardenfell version. I was informed that I was in the Great Bazaar.

At some point I found a book store. It was with difficultly that I pulled myself out of there, a few hundred gold poorer.

I heard what sounded like a summoning spell. When one summons an atronach or other daedra, there is a certain characteristic sound. I turned towards the sound and saw two bursts of fog or smoke. The smoke fade away to be replaced by a Dunmer in a robe.

"Greetings, fair citizens of Mournhold. I am the great, renowned, respected, and feared wizard, Ovis Velas! In the coming weeks you shall see more and more of me, as I bring this city to its knees."

This didn't sound very promising. He had the attention of the people around me. I hoped this was some sort of advertisement for a sporting event but I didn't think so. I had a fireball ready and I placed a hand on my head, casually, as if patting my hair into place ... near the hilt of the sheathed sword at my back.

"But for the moment, " he continued, "allow me to demonstrate my power on one of your hapless countrymen."

He looked right at me. Figures. Always pick on the Breton with the black hair and the armor.

"You there! Yes, you, you ugly Breton, Prepare yourself to feel my wrath!"

He hit me with a fireball. I could have dodged it but I didn't want it to hurt anyone in the crowd so I just took it. My birth-sign didn't absorb the spell this time.

Already running towards him, I let fly my own fireball and drew my sword.

He hit me with a cold spell: standard technique: fatigue the target by alternating fire and frost. My birth-sign didn't absorb this spell either but I have always had this unusual Nord-like affinity to cold: the spell was a refreshing cool breeze.

I reached him and swung. He moved partially out of the way but he was not moving very fast so Chrysamere still bit.

He stumbled but still hit me with a nasty shock-bolt. This time my birth-sign absorbed and diffused the spell.

Enough: I stabbed him right through the heart. He had no armor under the robe.

As I kicked the corpse from my sword I mused that any chance of the Dark Brotherhood not being aware of me here on their home turf had just gone to zero.

I cast a healing spell on myself.

The hubbub of the crowd that had formed was cut through by an Ordinator rasping, "Nothing to see here, move along."

I walked away. I had lawfully defended myself so the Ordinators gave me no trouble.

A dunmer who introduced himself as Drathhas Reyes said to me "For all of his talk, you didn't seem to have much trouble dealing with him. Seems strange he was so weak."

He had a point there.

"You know, there is a Velas manor in Godsreach. Perhaps checking it out would shed some needed light on this mystery."

Yeah whatever, but I didn't say that. I nodded and walked on.

Back to the sewers: I now had to find the Dark Brotherhood before they found me. I descended, stepped off the ladder. I killed a rat and passed by the unfriendly Khajiit woman again.




EDIT: went a little too Conan (and not even good original Howard Conan, but Marvel-style Conan) for the next bit so I've taken it out for more editing. Also minor word usage & "flow" edits


This post has been edited by blockhead: Apr 11 2007, 02:17 AM

A good start to this story blockhead. Right away we get right back into Rashelle's head with her sacarstic remarks. Excellent work.

yesssssssss.....my preciousssssss....*clap* *clap* More stories about Rashelle! She´s so great! Ha, I wish she had met with Trey in those creepy sewers of Mournhold. They would have got very well on together,,....

Nice Blockie....More please??

Hmm, you're sure going fast here. Rashelle's only just arrived and already she's racing at top speed through the sewers. Heh, the DB had better watch out. A Breton is in town, and Chrysamere is not for show!

I really liked the bit with the padded Capri pants.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Apr 10 2007, 09:39 PM

Wow, quite a long post there huh? Very nice though, I especially like the begining. Poor Rashelle, wait, hold that thought... Should I be saying "Awww, Poor Dark Brotherhood assassin," instead? You do have to feel sorry for the guy after all. Anyway .

This is actually how it happened when I first played Tribunal: arriving and almost immediately stumbling into the palace dungeons.

I hope the pace isn't too fast. I don't mean it to be but I do seem to have a terse style. I also sometimes have trouble judging time in stories because I write so slow and read so fast: it's hard to establish "real time".

I think I originally did the Tribunal main quest and a good chunk of the sidequests in under a week so I don't think of it as a long story. I remember it being only about twice as long to play than the Lokken main quest. This fanfic is not going to be anywere near as long as Treydog's Tribunal story (which I am in the middle of reading now).

So I had some trouble writing this ... essentially not the "nice" Rashelle you may have gotten used to ... but hey, these people are trying to kill her.


--
I turned right at the branching and followed the curve.

After a time the ornate sewer corridor changed to a cave. The cave narrowed and I followed. In a turning I encountered another lich. Their ability to cast spell after spell after spell was beginning to really annoy me. I rushed forward faster than it could back away and just hacked at it until it was no more.

The cave passage opened up into a larger chamber with a lich and two skeletons. I handled them. This passage had two ways out. I chose the left-hand one for several reasons. One, it was an old habit of mine: dungeons with traps are usually designed for right-handed people. People, facing a branching, will unconsciously take the rightmost passage. I've saved a lot of time and gained surprise many a time by turning left. Secondly, the left passage went downward. I somehow felt that the dark brotherhood would locate themselves in the lowest depths of this complex.

It's just too bad the passage had water. With distaste I waded, then swam, along.

Mercifully, the passage rose up out of the water, turning left.

I reached a join with more sewer. Once again I walked on the fancy and pretty tiles of the sewer floor.

Some more rats attacked me. I sliced them and continued.

The passage turned right, then after a time right again.

The passage rose and revealed a lone Dunmer woman. I hailed her and approached with caution. She seemed distraught and not inclined to attack me so as I walked closer I sheathed my sword.

"Beware the Black Dart gang, adventurer. They've robbed me of everything I hold dear."

My only reply was to raise an eyebrow. I find the less I speak, the more other people speak.

"They ambushed my lover and I in the Temple Sewers. Variner held them off while I ran. When I turned to look back, Variner was down."

Presumably Variner was her lover.

She sobbed, "I j-j-just kept running."

She paused and continued. "Now Variner's ghost comes to me at night, begging me to come to him, to rescue him. he says he has a message for me ... but I can't go down there, I just can't!

"I can't face the Black Dart Gang. Variner was a great fighter, but with one dart, he was dead in seconds. They would kill me for sure.

"If you see Variner's ghost, please don't harm him. If you can, listen to him and see if he has a message for me."

I nodded. I'm was not sure how I would identify one ghost from another as they never wear name tags but I felt bad for this woman. If I could find Variner in my travels, I would do as she asked.

I wonder if this Black Dart Gang was in any way related to the Dark Brotherhood. I asked her and she said:

"They dress like beggars, not in armor. Yet they have those darts that must be expensive. I don't know."

I nodded again and took my leave of her.

A door not far from her was inscribed "Old Mournhold Manor District". I took it.

The sewer entered into a cave.

I had only walked a short distance in cavern when two dark brotherhood ran towards me. A slash to the left and to the right and they were both stilled. I advanced and the cave bent to the right then to the left. Two more of the Dark Brotherhood rushed towards me. I broiled one with a fireball and decapitated the other one.

The cave widened. More came at me. They met the same fate as the others. I felt no remorse. They wanted to kill me. They had already tried. When man is is trying to kill you, there is only one way to protect yourself: kill him first.

It had become apparent that the members of the Dark Brotherhood had grown over-used to stealthy sneak attacks; poisoned food or daggers from behind. Direct frontal assault they were not prepared for or used to.

The wider cave passage entered into a huge cavern, but near the ceiling. I looked down and saw that the floor was at least 100 feet below where I stood. There were partially covered ruins of several houses ... manors, since this was the manor district.

Many members of the Dark Brotherhood were down there, scurrying about. they looked like ants. They were shouting: I'd been spotted already.

I did something unexpected, satisfying and quite effective: I cast a large fireball downwards. This had the the intended effect of taking out many of them, from a distance, all at once. It also had a surprising side effect: the survivors began to run into each other and stumble. They behaved as if I had blinded them.

I stood, looking down, trying to figure this out. From a passage on my right, at my height, two of them appeared and ran towards me. I hit the near one with a fireball. The one behind him lost his footing, screamed and fell the entire hundred plus feet down.

Since when does a common fireball spell blind people?

Perhaps ... since they spent all of their time underground or making assassinations at night, they were no longer used to bright light?

I jumped the 100 feet or more down, casting slowfall a few seconds before impact.

I was now in their midst and it was the last thing they expected. I cast a light spell, dazzling them again. Swinging Chrysamere in long arcs I got down to business.

Silently, coldly, swiftly, I killed and killed again. No quarter was asked and none given. They used poison blades, they used jinkblades. I dodged, I swung, I occasionally took potions. The longer reach of my claymore kept them away where the shorter reach of their short-blades worked against them.

I hacked, I slashed, I burned. The enchantments on their weapons fueled my magicka and I cast a seemingly unending barrage of fire. I tore though their ranks like a Fury.

The few times when a paralysis spell actually took hold, it didn't last long enough for them to do significant damage. Say what you want about birth-signs, but I am thankful every day that I was born under the Atronach.

I went into neighboring caves. There were more Dark Brotherhood there. With flashes of light and balls of fire I brought the battle to them.

I went into each manor. The slaughter continued. They had tried to kill me. Now they would never be able to.

My blade had become so dull that I had begun to use it as a club. I grabbed an adamantium short sword from a body. I had never seen adamantium before but like any adventurer I had heard about it. I knew of its properties and its rarity and value. Armed with a fresh blade, I continued with the carnage.

In one the the manors I found the clue. The clue was in the form of a man. His armor was Dark Brotherhood, yet had markings on it; some sort of insignia. None of the others had worn anything with that. It seemed logical that this man was the leader of the Dark brotherhood.

I disarmed him. He would be made to talk.

Alas, he had other plans. A bright green mist issued from his mouth He said "tell my liege, I have failed."

He fell and was limp. I kicked him and hissed, "Screw your liege, n'wah! Talk!"

But he was dead.

Damnit.

I searched the body and found a single sheet of parchment. It was a contract for my death. It mentioned me by name: what the oblivion? They were to kill me for a client identified only as "H". I found no other information.

I took a breather and sharpened Chrysamere. I burned the contract.

After placing the helm with the insignia in my pack, I departed from the manor. I was tired but I kept looking for surviving Dark Brotherhood in nearby caves and in other buildings. There were not many left, but I believe I eventually found them all.

I resolved to make some restore fatigue potions at some point in the future: I could have used some.

Wearily I began the trek to the surface. Despite a good sense of direction I got lost. I didn't mind because I found a pair of adamantium boots.

Eventually it occurred to my fatigued mind that I could cast Recall. This took me back to my house in Balmora. I collapsed on my bed and slept like the dead.

This post has been edited by blockhead: Apr 11 2007, 02:39 AM

Who wouldn't be tired after all that slaughtering? Swinging a claymore like Chyrasmere would most definitely be tiring. I do have to say that burning that contract seems like an odd thing to do. Personally I would hang onto it so that I had evidence to confront someone with it. Of course, when "H" is the only indication of the contract issuer, the proof isn't that solid.

All and all, a good update.

Chapter 2. Goblins



I awoke.

The first order of business was a bath. I grabbed two pails and made several trips to and from the Odai river. I noticed that it was late in the afternoon.

I suppose if I actually lived in my stronghold up in Bal Isra I could have my staff fetch the water and prepare the bath for me, but I had grown used to my place in Balmora. It was well connected since the silt strider and the Mage's Guild were close by. I also liked living by myself.

Back in my house, I cast a few fireballs to quickly heat the water. I grabbed the soap and sank into the tub. This was much a better start to the day then I had had yesterday. My mind remained empty for a time and I just enjoyed the sensation of the hot water as I scrubbed.

Eventually my peaceful mood ended and my mind went back to business. The dark brotherhood had been given that contract to kill me. They were no longer a problem ... but they had been contracted by some other party, a mysterious "H". What was to stop "H" from trying again, using some other means?

I would need to track down this H and somehow get him, or her, to change their mind.

I recalled the dying words of the former leader of the Dark Brotherhood; he had used the term "liege". This implied a monarch, a king. The only king anywhere near these parts was the one ... in Mournhold: king Helseth with an "H".

That was madness. Why the oblivion would some Dunmer king all the way down in Mournhold want to kill me? Could it be related to the fact that I was high ranking member of House Redoran, Hortator and Nerevarine?

It still failed to make sense. House Wars used the Morag tong for assassinations. I could think of no one alive who had a reason to kill me simply for being the Nerevarine.

I got out of the tub. I threw my armor in the tub and then scrubbed that as well.

I sighed as I got dressed. It seemed that I would have to go back to Mournhold to figure out the situation. On the positive side, the red river seemed to have stopped running.

I had depleted my stock of health restoration potions. From the ingredients stored at my house I made several batches.

I stopped at the Mage's Guild and obtained ingredients for Restore Fatigue potions as well as for more Restore Health potions.

I then went over to the South Wall for dinner.

Perhaps the contract had been some work of misdirection, the entire thing an elaborate hoax to turn me against the king. I didn't think that anyone would suicide to preserve a hoax, unless they were entirely insane.

As I ate, I realized an odd thing about my sewer explorations in Mournhold: the goblins. Goblins are only found in certain areas ... usually mountains, away from large settlements ... not in the sewers below a major city. There was definitely something fishy going on in Mournhold,

After dinner I used the Mage's Guild teleport system to go to Sadrith Mora and then later to Caldera for more ingredients. I was looking for, and found, ingredients necessary for chameleon potions. I wanted to make enough so that, if needed, I could "stack" them them and achieve complete invisibility for minutes at time: perfect to sneak past a palace full of guards. This was not yet my definite plan but but I could see that I might have need to.

Upon returning to my house, I made the rest of the potions.

I had only been awake a few hours but I desired to keep a sleep schedule conforming to the actual time so I retired for the night. It was not at all difficult to fall asleep.

The next morning I returned to Mournhold.

I decided to head for the temple. I suppose I could have cast an Almsivi Intervention direct from the castle reception area, but I wanted to walk the actual distance. This was a form of procrastination, and it also allowed me to learn more of the layout of the city.

The Temple area, like everything else in Mournhold, was impressive looking and much more colorful than its counterpart in Vvardenfell.

I strode along the paved walk, admiring the trees and the landscaping.

A Bosmer approached me and introduced himself as Gaener.

"Gay Nor?"

He looked at me strangely and replied; "Gaenor, g-a-e-n-o-r".

He explained that he was down on his luck and could I spare a drake?

Now I tend to not like Bosmer males. I'm not sure if it is their annoying voices or what, but I gave him a drake anyway.

"Say, you look like you've been successful in your adventures. If I could get some starting cash I could get myself established, start a business, you know. Could you spare 100 drakes?"

I gave it to him. I don't know why I did.

"Thanks! You won't regret this."

Why is it that whenever someone says that ... I end up regretting it?

"Say, I could really get a nice business going right away with a thousand."

"Enough, sera. My charity has limits. I know entire communities that would live for a year on what I have already given you. You have over a 100 now; spend it wisely."

I gave him that Look: the one that normally shuts people up and reminds them that they have business elsewhere. My eyes can normally kill a conversation in an instant. They had no effect on the little twerp.

"No! Give me 1000! You can afford it, you cheap fetcher!"

He was shouting. We had the attention of the Ordinators now. I didn't want this to get ugly.

I said "Good day to you, sera," and walked away.

"You haven't seen the last of me, Breton. You will rue the day!"

I smiled. No one says "rue the day" anymore.

As I ascended the steps leading towards the entrance to the temple, I wondered if all the beggars were mad in Mournhold.

I entered the temple. I found myself in a room, blue as the palace had been. They must have used the same contractor.

There were people milling about, including some Ordinators and an older-looking Dunmer woman who was dusting the furniture. My attention was drawn to a Dunmer in robes that failed to conceal the armor underneath. A scar across his face and something about the way his eyes immediately rested on me made me suspect that this was someone who was no stranger to combat. He was not just a priest.

Curiosity made me approach him. Before I could speak he said, "The Nerevarine, here in Mournhold. Interesting."

I raised an eyebrow.

"I am Fedris Hler, steward of the temple here in Mournhold."

I nodded. Effe had mentioned his name but had not described him. He was the mer I wanted to see.

I dug out the Dark brotherhood helm from my pack and offered it to him.

He examined it and raised an eyebrow.

"Interesting insignia on it."

I remembered a rumor that Hler had been an assassin. If this were true, then he knew whose helm that had been.

"Most impressive," he said as he handed it back to me, "and it indicates you could be of service to Our Lady in another, possibly related, problem."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Recently, Goblins have appeared under Mournhold."

I nodded. I had encountered one or two already.

"As you probably are aware, we Dunmer require no kings. We have our own council, and we have the temple, led by our living gods. We have Faith, Law, Justice ... we do not need a play king."

I failed to see the connection but I nodded anyway.

"Helseth knows this and this is devoting some of his efforts to increase and consolidate his power. My sources indicate that the new king has brought the goblins here to function as a private army."

"You have got to be ... " I stopped. That was nuts. A duke or king bringing in a private army was not an unusual thing, but to use goblins was ... madness.

"No Rashelle, I am not. There is a goblin army under our city right now. Helseth is a fool to believe that he can control them for long. They will eventually turn on him and start making raids on the surface."

He paused.

"My sources indicate that there are two goblin war chiefs. They are more intelligent than the goblin troops. If those two were to be eliminated, then the goblin army would dissipate.

"Also there are two Altmer working for Helseth down there. Those traitors are training the goblins how to fight men and mer. Their deaths would also benefit Mournhold."

This was bad. Helseth had gone too far.

"You said 'new king.' What did you mean by that?"

"You didn't know?" he asked in surprise. "Athyn Llethan was the king until recently. He died under suspicious circumstances. Talen Vendas, who was to be the next king, also died soon after. He may have been poisoned. Helseth has a reputation for 'removal' of competition by poison."

I nodded. Even if half of this was hearsay, Helseth was fast becoming a problem: one I might have to deal with at some point. For now, though, I would do as Hler asked.

"One last thing, Rashelle: my sources indicate that the majority of the goblin sightings have been under Godsreach. I expect that there would be the best place to start your investigation."

I nodded and departed.

For a time I simply explored Godsreach. This was a district primarily devoted to housing, but there was also the Museum of artifacts and the Craftsmen's Hall and a tavern called The Winged Guar.

I chatted up anyone I encountered, partially to obtain information and partially just to be friendly.

Ordinators are, in general, humorless and not very sociable. They uphold the law, they believe that they smite violators. They are very earnest, very serious. I have always tried to get along with them, applying my speech-craft skills. My efforts have resulted in the discovery that even a kindly disposed Ordinator is not much for conversation.

It was the same with the Ordinators in Mournhold ... but for one exception: Salas Valor was different. Alone of them he had some personality. I could tell that he was sad about something, and wary, possibly a little afraid. I did not ask him what perturbed him: I knew he would stop talking if I did.

We talked about the weather, about historical points of interest in Mournhold, and even a few rumors. He had also heard about the goblins but had no new information for me.

He even waved goodbye when I took my leave of him. I imagined he may have smiled under his helm.

It was so nice to have finally met a friendly Ordinator. Thus cheered, I located the trapdoor to the sewers below Godsreach. The door was labeled "old Mournhold residential sewers".

I stepped onto the ladder, descended a few rungs, and then closed the door above me.

Oddly enough, no hostile creatures were in the immediate vicinity. I stepped off the ladder and approached a pile of crates. Their contents were nothing of interest so I turned in the other direction. I saw two open doorways that led to the rest of the sewer.

I walked through one of the doorways. The sewer ahead of me was partially filled with a huge rock outcrop. Presumable during the original construction this rock had proved too unyielding for the workers and it had been left as is.

A scrap of paper caught my eye so, curious as ever, I picked it up.

It was a periodical called "The Common Tongue". This issue seemed almost entirely to deal with matters pertaining to the new king Helseth and his supposed propensity for removing obstacles to his power via poison. There was no mention of the Dark Brotherhood.

The large maroon tiled sewer corridor turned right and I followed.

A goblin appeared out of nowhere and attacked me. I slew him rapidly but the noise had alerted others. I saw two run at me. I burned one from a distance with a fireball and then cut the second one down with Chrysamere.

I stood completely still and listened. There were no goblins in the immediate vicinity, but I thought I heard human voices up ahead.

They would wait: heeding my conversation with Ferris Hler, I examined the three goblins. They wore identical bracers, tunics and pauldrons. The bracers had insignias. These goblins wore uniforms. Hler's sources looked to be spot on; an army.

I slipped on a chameleon ring. It was not much of an enchantment but it had the advantage of being constant effect. That plus my skills at sneaking silently would make me close to invisible.

I crept forwards. The sewer branched. To my left it curved into the distance. Ahead I could see a grill and doorways. Past that I saw at least two men or mer. To my right the sewer turned left and reached a dead end.

From the left walked a goblin. He had not seen me: he was wandering ... or patrolling.

I moved back a bit, moving also to the left until I reached the large rock outcrop. I waited, silently. I was patient.

The goblin walked with that characteristic lurching gate, getting closer.

He was not far in front of me now. I was about to spring when he took note of the people ahead of me and rushed to attack them.

These people ahead of me could be potential enemies but I could not let the goblin kill them. I dispatched him with a fireball.

The mer had seen me through a large grille in the wall between us. I slipped off the ring and walked toward them. They did not move from their spot. Since they were not attacking, I walked through the open doorway adjacent to the grille and approached them.

There were three Dunmer and one Breton. I instinctively identified the mer who was the leader. He said "Impressive fireball, mage."

I nodded.

"I am Drathas Nerus. Welcome to my world, where we do things my way."

I raised an eyebrow. He seemed a boasting common thug but for the glass greaves. A would-be bandit would not be able to retain those for long.

The Breton, who stood between the two Dunmer henchmen was wearing only a loincloth and slave bracers.

"Is that a slave?"

"Ha ha, no. Dilborn here became too addicted to gambling. He owes me considerable septims in gambling debts."

The Breton looked pleadingly at me. I sighed. I was going to have to rescue him, wasn't I?

"Hey boss, maybe we should sell him as a slave, since he can't pay", said one of the henchmen through his chiten helm.

"Shut up Alam, I do the thinking, remember?"

"Oh yeah, sorry boss."

I grinned. They were like characters in a bad play.

"What you you smiling at?" said Drathas to me.

"How much?"

"Pardon?"

"How much does he owe?"

He named a large sum. Dilborn had certainly overindulged in the gambling.

"Tell you what. If you took this Breton to the slave markets in Telvanni lands, he'd fetch maybe 1000, no more. I'll give you that now and I'll take him off your hands."

Drathas glared at me.

"You won't get your money back by killing him," I said. "He's obviously unable to pay you. My giving you 1000 now is the only way you'll recoup any of your loss."

"Maybe I'll just take all your money now", he said.

I grinned and waved my hand. Sparks flew from my fingers. I said nothing but my eyes dared him to try.

"It's a deal, muthsera."

Smart boy.

I paid him. He removed the slave bracers and I escorted Dilborn along the short distance to the ladder. He was almost babbling with profuse thanks the whole way. He also kept going on about his friend Thrud, who apparently was not very smart and was waiting for him topside.

Upon reaching the ladder I motioned him to silence and said "no more gambling. I'm not rescuing you if there is a next time. Ensure there will not be a next time."

"y-y-yes, I'm sure I won't ever gamble again. I'll lay you ten to one odds on that!"

"Dilborn, consider this. If you are smarter than Thrud, why is he safe up there and you down here? If I had not come along, you would be dead. Who, then, is the smarter one?"

"Hey, have you got any clothes?"

Enough. I disappeared. You can lead a gaur to water but ...

I crept along the curving sewer passage, once again in a stealthy mode. With the dark brotherhood, my direct combat methods had worked very well. With the combat oriented goblins, the stealthy approach would now be the better approach. I can go both ways: stealth or combat. My years in the thieves guild had given my considerable skill in sneaking around.

The sewer corridor straightened out and then ramped down. I spotted two durzogs. The ideal tactic here would have been to take a bow and nail them with arrows by surprise. Alas, marksman is a skill I've never been able to get the hang of.

I cast a very small and feeble fireball spell at one durzog. It was dim and quiet enough that the second durzog did not notice it. The first durzog flew into a rage and ran towards me. The noise of our combat alerted the second durzog but I finished him before the second durzog reached me. One at a time is so much easier.

Staying close to the wall, I silently descended the ramp. Now the center channel had water in it.

The sewer curved again, to the right as before. I followed.

I reached another branching and a durzog somehow spotted or scented me and attacked. I chopped an outstretched foreleg and then ran to the side. The durzog fell and rolled. I swung and Chrysamere tore into his side. I chopped again and the durzog was dead.

The branch ahead of me was actually another dead end. The left branching led down until it was completely underwater. I took a few breaths and dived.

I had begun to see stars when I finally reached the surface. I tread water, gasping for a moment. Fortunately nothing dangerous was nearby.

I followed the ramp up out of the water. The sewer branched. A feeling made me go right instead of my usual left. There was another branching: to the right a ramp up and ahead another cavernous sewer room. I stealthily advanced into this room.

I recognized the corpses: I had been here before. These were the sewers under the palace.

I returned to the upward-sloping ramp and followed that.

I saw three goblins. A fireball toasted one of them. This alerted the other two who ran to the offensive.

One was as I had seen before, including the uniform. The other one was larger, different, and he cast fireballs at me. I just took it and charged ahead: a momentary break from my stealthy approach. After slaying them I examined the larger one. He had a ring of fireballs. That explained the spells. While the intelligence of goblins is not known, it has been assumed that they are not as smart as humans. Had he used a scroll instead of a ring then that meant he was able to read. Goblins smart enough to read would have worried me.

This one was an officer of some kind. He wore no tunic but instead a loincloth and a harness: straps around his torso with insignias. He had bracers like the lesser goblins and larger pauldrons: one was iron and one had been made from a skull. He wore on his clawed feet something that resembled boots but the heel and toe had been opened. Such a design might work for a Khajiit or an Argonian. He had horns. Were the officers a different sub-species? I dubbed this one the "bruiser" because he was a ball of muscle.

My inspection was interrupted by a durzog. I took care of him and then continue on my way.

I quietly slipped though a door labeled "Old Mournhold West Sewers".

And so it went on. I began to notice the patterns in the movements of the goblin patrols and this allowed me to sneak past more of them without having to engage in combat.

The sewers were certainly extensive. They seemed larger than the city above them.

After a time I began to see other types of goblin soldiers: higher ranks. This indicated that I was nearing my goal: the goblin army headquarters.

A door with the legend "Battlefield" scratched on it led to more sewers that eventually became caves. I entered an absolutely gargantuan cavern. It was so huge that it almost appeared as if I were outdoors.

If this were indeed a battlefield that used to be on the surface, what had caused such a thickness of stone to grow over it? Perhaps, the question to ask was: what had caused it to sink into the ground so deeply?

I used spells to take out the two or three goblins there. I had expected more to be stationed here for some reason.

There was a building, partially covered with rock, with a raised square platform on top. I cast a levitation spell and flew up to inspect the platform. I saw nothing of interest. There were no doors to enter the building itself.

I almost did not notice the door partway up the wall of the cavern. It was atop a stone formation that looked like a ramp. I floated over to it.

This door was labeled "city gate". Once again I marveled that this had at one time been the surface. The levitation spell timed out and I opened the door.

This eventually led me to the ruins of the old armory.

Some say that it is difficult to sneak up on and kill creatures one at a time with a big claymore but I did that several times here, as some sections were too narrow for me to creep past undetected. Of course, as always, where there are goblins, there are durzogs. I dealt with those as well.

I found some adamantium veins but could not carry that much: the ore is heavier then the finished armor.

A combination of sneaking and combat led me to a door labeled "Tears of Amun-Shae". I wondered who that was.

It was here that I found the two goblin war chiefs. They were bigger and even uglier than the other goblins. They were also much tougher. Fortunately, for me, they were not together in the same section of cave. I did not have to fight them both at once. As it was, I did need to use potions.

My mission was largely accomplished but I wanted to find the Altmer trainers so I continued.

My explorations led to the residential ruins, an area very reminiscent of the manor district. The two altmer were in an old manor building there called "Teran Hall east".

They didn't want to talk. After a dialog involving blades it was determined that they would never train again. I searched for incriminating papers, something to tie them to Helseth, but did not find anything.

Mission fully accomplished, I cast Almsivi Intervention and was teleported to a spot just outside the Mournhold Temple.

Fedris Hler was very pleased and mentioned that Gavas Drin, the temple patriarch, might have additional missions of service to "our lady".

It had been a long day: I would talk to Gavas but not today.

This post has been edited by blockhead: Apr 25 2007, 10:51 PM

Whew, that was a lot to read! It was still written very well though, plenty of Rashelle's sarcasm and dry humour that I do love so much. Keep it up!

Long, and absolutely worth it! Good job.

Sorry it has been soooo long. This one fought me.


Chapter 3. Shrine



They say that curiosity will enable you to learn things, that curiosity is the mark of a discerning and intelligent man or mer. I sometimes think that curiosity is nothing but a source of trouble. Certainly that was the case that morning.

After being teleported to the palace, I decided to walk around and explore the city some more. After that I would see Gavas Drin.

My wandering feet took me to the Godsreach area. I was admiring the blue architecture when I remembered the events of the other day in the Great Bazaar, when that strange would-be mage had appeared and attacked me. What was his name ... Ovis Velas. Yes, that was it. Someone had told me that there was a Velas manor here in Godsreach.

I located the manor in short time and knocked on the door. There was no answer. I waited a bit longer. Either no one was home or the Dunmer I had slain was the only resident. I discreetly tried the door. It was locked.

Stretching my arms, I rotated slowly in place ... looking all around without appearing to. Having ascertained that no one was paying any attention to me, I slipped a lock pick from my pack and quietly unlocked the door.

I entered Velas manor and found myself in a large blue room that covered all of the first floor.

The room was richly furnished and there was at least one bookcase filled with interesting-looking books. I saw a table with a nice set of alchemy equipment.

At the table stood the Dunmer I thought I had killed the other day.

"Salutations, Rashelle. So nice of you to join me in my humble abode. I was all prepared to offer you a nice drink or a bite to eat before we got down to business, but you are late in coming and I don't appreciate being kept waiting, so business it shall be. I can sense you've already made the acquaintance of my unfortunate brother."

"O-Ovis?" I said in astonishment.

"My brother: we always did look very much alike. I am Gavis Velas."

Oh. This was the brother of the mer I had slain.

He continued: "Yes, Ovis always did like to take credit for my exploits. Too bad that this time, in trying to become my doppleganger, it would appear he went too far."

The calm detached tone with which Gavis talked of his brothers death was unsettling.

"I understand your position, Rashelle -- you have to defend yourself. But I also must ask you to understand mine -- I have to avenge my brother. Thus, a duel is called for, and there is no time like the present. Prepare yourself, Rashelle. Thy doom is imminent, and I have other matters to attend to."

With a flick of the wrist, he summoned two golden saints and an ogrim titan.

Instinctively I cast a fireball. Then I drew Chrysamere. He must have had a Reflect spell because the fireball came right back at me.

Ignoring the pain, I darted past the golden saints and leaped aside from the ogrim's large fist. When dealing with this sort of situation, it is best to go direct to the summoner, and not deal with his summonings.

As I swung Chrysamere, Velas zapped me with an electrical spell. This time, my birth-sign absorbed it.

He dodged my swing, I continued the swing so that my blade sliced into the nearer golden saint. The second saint swung her sword but as luck would have it, the ogrim dealt me a blow that sent me flying before the second saint's swing could connect.

I slammed into a bookcase just as another fireball hit me. This time it did damage. Flaming books flew everywhere as I quickly quaffed a healing potion.

This wasn't working out so well.

I got up just as the two saints reached me. Velas was so far back that I knew I would have to fight his summonings after all.

I batted a sword aside with Chrysamere and cut into one of the saints. I shook as a sword bounced off my cuirass. I dodged under another swing and This time I finished one of the saints.

This was a mixed blessing, as the two saints had been effectively blocking the ogrim titan. With a rapidity that is always unexpected from something that size, he backhanded me and I was again in flight. I crashed against the stairwell that led to the second floor.

Just to keep things interesting, I was hit with a poison spell.

As I ran up the stairs I sucked down another healing potion.

I turned in time to see the ogrim place an oversized foot on the first step. I hit him with a frost spell, then a fireball. He howled.

What was nice was that he was blocking Velas and the remaining golden saint from running up the stairs. Somehow Velas cast a large frost ball spell past the ogrim. My birth-sign did not absorb it but the cold was soothing.

I ran down and swung Chryamere, lopping off one of the ogrim's arms. I darted back up as he swung with the remaining one. I hit him with a fireball and then closed again: this time I thrust my sword deep into the bulk of the ogrim, finally dispatching him.

I ducked a swing from the golden saint while freeing my blade from the corpse. By the time she swung again, Chrysamere was free and I parried.

Another poison spell bloomed around me: oh yeah, I had forgotten about Velas.

With two quick chops I finished the golden saint.

As no summonings were forthcoming I took a quick second to down another Restore Heath potion.

I cast a frost ball at Velas. This one did not Reflect.

I charged. He cast another poison spell at me. My birth-sign absorbed it.

He wore no armor but could duck and weave with the best of them. Now he had drawn a glass jinkblade. As with the dark brotherhood, my skill and the longer reach of my claymore kept the jinkblade from ever touching me. I swung and his head went flying across the room. I dodged the blood shooting from his neck as his body fell.

I drank another healing potion and sat down to take a breather.

After a minute or so I stood up explored the house. I found a good amount of gems and useful alchemy ingredients. Velas himself had a ring of poison-bloom. His robe was enchanted to reflect fire spells.

I fear my curiosity will be the death of me one day.



I strode through the Temple, looking for the Archcanon's office. I saw a nervous looking priest. He paced back and forth in the corridor fretfully.

"Sera, are you well?" I asked him. "Can I assist?"

"Ah, he-h-hello," he stuttered, "n-no: everything is fine."

Sure ... and I can sell you some prime real estate in Ebonheart real cheap.

I nodded and moved on.

Gavas Drin's appearance was more what one expected from a priest. He had no bulges indicative of armor, nor the scar or the bearing of Hler.

"I'm Rashelle. Fedris Hler said I might be of assistance to you?"

"Yes Rashelle," said Drin. "I have heard about what you have done for us so far and Almalexia is pleased. I do have something else you could do to be of service if you are willing."

I nodded.

"Underground, deep beneath the temple, is an old shrine. It dates from the time before the Temple, when we Dunmer practiced only ancestor worship. The shrine is a source of magical power. Long abandoned, its power has not faded but has instead gone ... sour. A powerful form of undead called the profane lich has infested the shrine.

"While temple doctrine disavows ancestor worship, the Lady believes that it has its place and that the power to be gained from that shrine is great.

"I would like you to go down there are clean out all of the profane liches. I also need you to escort one of our priests down there so that he can perform the necessary procedure on the shrine. You must protect him at all costs. Only he can perform this cleansing"

I nodded and said, "I can do that right now. Where is he?"

"He was here a second ago," he said in a slightly annoyed tone.

He darted past me to the door and called down the corridor "Urvel!"

Drin stepped back and that nervous looking priest scurried into the room.

"Rashelle, this is Urvel Dulni. He is the Mer you are to escort. He must be protected."

"Urvel, this is Rashelle. She's going to escort you down there. Do as she says."

"Stay here" I told the trembling priest. "I will clear the way first and then come fetch you."

He nodded. He looked relieved.

It didn't take long to find the shrine. As per Gavas Drin's directions, I reached it via the west sewers and then the old temple gardens. Once again I marveled at how what used to be on the surface was now so deep underground.

I cleared out many creatures on the way but it was nothing that I had not already encountered in the past few days under Mournhold.

At last I reached the area of the abandoned shrine. I could not see the shrine itself yet, but there was a disquieting magical presence. Drin had used the term "soured" and that described the feeling exactly. This was an ancient and powerful magic that had gone evil. The air was sticky with it.

The presence of profane liches in this part of the caverns further indicated that this was the place.

The profane liches had even worse spells than the regular ones. They just threw spell after spell at me. My attempts to cast Silence on them didn't work. Once again the atronach birth sign was of great help.

I darted to one side to avoid a fireball and cast one of my own.

I rolled and sucked down a healing potion just as another fireball from a second profane hit me.

A third noticed me and also began to cast.

I gulped another healing potion, cast a spell for fire resistance, and then rushed the first profane. He back-peddled but I reached him anyway and lashed out with Chrysamere. My sword bounced: these Profane were made of tougher bone or something. I swung a few more times, knocking chips of bone away, until finally the profane fell apart.

While this was occurring, I was the object of fireball target practice on on the part of Profanes Two and Three. It was time to change that.

A cast a fireball at Number Two and then rushed Number Three. As I neared him, I dived down to the ground and swept my blade across, into his legs. It did not kill him but it knocked him over, which stopped him casting any spells for a few precious seconds. I spun around and a well-aimed kick sent him flying. He bounced off of the wall and landed in a heap. I hit him a large fireball and he disintegrated.

Meanwhile, the remaining profane had stopped spell-casting and was now running towards me, axe raised and ready to swing.

I scorched him with a fireball and then charged. He swung and I parried. With a loud clang, the axe shattered. I swung and the skull was cleaved. The profane lich fell apart.

I followed the cave a bit further. I found and destroyed some more profane. I also found an altar. The soured magic emanations here were so strong that my teeth vibrated: there was an audible hum. It felt unclean and somehow wrong. It was time to go back and fetch Trembling Boy.

I cast Almsivi intervention and entered the temple. He was at the Archcanon's office where I had left him.

"Ready to go?"

"Y-y-y-yes, that is, errr, if you t-t-think it's safe?"

"Come."

We descended into the temple sewers and then made our way to the caverns where the shrine was located. Again I wondered why Drin had chosen him, of all people, to perform this task. He looked like he could not even handle a rat, let alone anything really dangerous.

Once at the altar, he knew what to do. He cast a spell: I could not tell what it was. The altar glowed and Urvel began to ... sing. There were words that I could recognize: it sounded nothing like any spell I'd heard a temple priest use.

The altar continued to glow, the air was different. The vibration in my teeth got worse, then lessened. He continued to sing, varying the pitch up and down. It was as if he were ... tuning the altar.

For a moment the quality of my vision changed. Everything seemed to blur, then get brighter. The blurring went away and suddenly everything was dim and blue. He lowered the pitch and everything turned red. I looked at my hands. they were red as well.

He stopped singing and lifted his hands away. The glow in the alter faded away. and I could see as before. I felt a cool breeze. The air no longer had that sticky evil feeling to it. I could still feel the magic in the place but it was different now, not sour. There was silence.

He turned to me and said, "It is done. We can go now."

It was the first time he had not stuttered.

"Good."

I raised my hands to cast an Almsivi Intervention spell but something in his eyes made me pause.

"You do know the Almsivi Intervention spell, don't you?"

He shook his head.

I rolled my eyes and said "Sera, you are a priest in the Temple. You know spells sufficient to "cleanse" a shrine. I can't believe you never learned such a basic and useful spell as that one!"

"I, uhhhh, n-never learned."

"Feh! C'mon."

I lead him up to the temple without incident. Gavas Drin thanked me for escorting the priest and gave me a Blessed Spear: I'm sure it would look wonderful in my house in the pile with all of the other unique enchanted things.

"I am ready for more tasks." I said.

"I have nothing for you right now; perhaps Fedris Hler might."

I nodded and left.

"Yes Rashelle," responded Fedris. "The lady appreciates your efforts and has a special assignment for you."

I nodded.

"Deep underground, below the temple, is an abandoned crypt. Within this crypt lies an ancient artifact called the Mazed Band. I know that it is a ring but I have no other information about it.

"The location of the Mazed Band is known: it is in an abandoned crypt beneath the temple. Recently a tunnel to this crypt was discovered and cleared out. The tunnel lies in the northern part of the Old Mournhold Temple Sewers"

"Not much do go on," I observed. "Are you sure you can't find out more about it?"

"I'm sorry Rashelle, that is all I have been told. Perhaps Archcanon Drin would know more. You should ask him."

I turned to go back to Drins office.

"Rashelle?"

"yes?"

"You almost forgot your spear."

"Oh, how silly of me."

Darn: I'd have to ditch it some other way.

I went back to Drin's office and he had only a small amount of information.

"Ages ago, a powerful sorcerer named Barilzar created the Mazed Band. The legends are unclear as to exactly what the Band did, but apparently it was powerful. It may have been capable of summoning creatures from another realm. There may also have been a teleportation enchantment upon it.

"Like many mages, Barilzar desired power and eternal life. He may have turned himself into a lich just so he could live forever. I imagine if he is still around he's evil, and very powerful. Still, since you handled those profane liches, this should not be an insurmountable problem."

Says the mer who is not actually going down there himself. Still, he had a point; after Dagoth Ur and those Profane liches, what's another undead immortal?

"Almalexia would like to use the ring's power for the benefit of her people. I have no further information."

I nodded. This information, spotty as it was, would have to do.





This post has been edited by blockhead: Apr 28 2007, 07:02 PM

Phew, quite a nice novel you got going there. A good idea for you, try writing in smaller segments, then check them as they are completed, this way you make less mistakes. Otherwise, keep it up!

P.S. Loved the attempt to ditch the spear, write more like that please.


This post has been edited by Zelda_Zealot: Apr 25 2007, 07:24 AM

Sweet. Rashelle is quite fast, don't you think?

I liked the cleansing scene, very interesting. And the ditching attempt was neat as Zelda already said. Though personally, I would probably drag it around with me till the end of Tribunal and then dump it in Tel Uvirith. Silly, yes but I just can't ever bring myself to dropping items of value. Even mundane enchanted items go into my collection.

The problem with writing in smaller scenes is that my writing style involves a lot of revision. Often something I add at the end will make it necessary for me to change something in the beginning. Because of this, I have to get the entire chapter/segment/whatever finished before it can be posted. Usually I don't even know what the title the chapter is until it has been entirely written.

The spear is a needed bit of humor. I've written a few out-of-order bits ahead[1] and this story is getting darker and bleaker. Rashelle has less funny lines. I'm trying to get more funny bits in somehow.

It's been a while since I actually played the Tribunal main quest: I had to start it again three or four days ago so I could get things straight for this story ... and I'd forgotten how it gets. It's not the fun-filled family frolic that Lokken was.

--
[1] the very end has already been written ... it's just that all of those little bits in between now and the end that need to be done.

Well of course she's fast, she's the Nereverine after all.

Glad you like the cleansing scene. They way they had it in the game was too boring and quick after all of that buildup. I had add some interest.

In-game, Rashelle never ditches anything. In her Balmora house she's got high-capacity containers just packed with crap.

Shorter chapter today (Hey zelda_zealot )

--
Chapter 4. Mazed Band


Once again through the temple basement, once again in the temple sewers. I almost knew the rats by name now. I mused that maybe I should just live down here to shorten the trip times.

Wandering along the sewers and through the caves that used to be the surface, fighting liches and skeletons and the odd goblin or three, I eventually found an area new to me. It was a pile of rubble next to a narrow cave. I saw a broken miner's pick. This had to be the recently cleared tunnel that Hler had mentioned.

Although the tunnel was cleared, the crypts beyond it were not. There was nothing unusual at first, merely more of the usual undead and some rats. I suppose one should not say "merely" when referring to liches. Those things are rather annoying for their ability to just hammer one with spell after spell.

One stretch of cave turned and entered into a section of what looked like sewer, with its maroon floor tiles. This was a dead end so that it formed a room. In this room stood something new to me. It was a skeleton, yet it wore more and different clothes than skeletons normally wear. It seemed to be wearing ... a crown? There were thin strands of grey hair somehow attached to its skull. It was also a bit shorter than me. Had this been a Bosmer when it was alive?

"What are you doing here?" it asked in a sepulchral voice.

"I'm here to recover the Mazed Band for Almalexia."

It ... he ... laughed dryly and said "Do you know who I am?"

"Fargoth's aunt, Clargoth?" Oh Rashelle, you must stop this habit of talking without thinking first!

"No. I am Barilzar, the one who made the Mazed band untold centuries ago. I cannot let its power slip into the wrong hands. I turned myself into a lich so that I could protect it. Leave now, mortal, while you still can."

I waited.

"Well, go on then, lest you feel my wrath."

I waited.

"I really don't want to kill you."

"Must you?"

"Well, not if you leave. I'm serious now. I have to protect this ring so that no one can misuse it. It's important, you know."

"I see. Well, could I borrow it?"

"Hmm, well you look the trustworthy type ... but you serve this Almy, Alley ... Almee ..."

"Almalexia. She is one of the Tribunal."

"Hmm, not sure I know them; new I guess. Then again, down here with only other undead for company, one doesn't get that much news."

"Doesn't it get boring, you know, sitting here in this cave for centuries with no one to talk to?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, it does ... but it is necessary. I have to protect this ring."

"So you keep saying."

Was this thing was going to talk me to death?

"Say," I remarked, "How do I know that you are really Barilzar?"

"But I am!"

"Riddle me this, sera: if you are really him, you would know about the disappearance of the Dwemer, wouldn't you?"

"Errr, since when did they disappear?"

"About a thousand years ago."

"Oh, then that was after I became a lich. Too recent; sorry."

I had been an adventurer for some time. I had managed to handle that pesky matter of Dagoth Ur and come out alive and ahead. Over time I had built up instincts ... senses. Sometimes I would just have a feeling and without hesitation I would act on it. Every time it happened it saved my life.

This time was no exception. The thought was the deed and I half fell, half dove, to the right.

I heard a crackling sound and a ball of electrical damage magic swirled by me and splashed into the wall behind Barilzar.

I sprang to my feet, to see a second Barilzar. This one was larger, the height of an Altmer. The little one had been a distraction to set me up for the real one.

I cast a large fireball. It reflected. Through a red haze of pain I quaffed a restore health potion.

As I dodged another spell I ran for the little guy and clove him in two. Now I would be able to focus on the big guy without distractions. Too bad about the Dwemer, though: I would still like to know what happened to them.

I cast a Reflect spell, took a second potion, and charged the real Barilzar. The restore health potions that I make last around half a minute. Therefore it is sometimes a good idea to take one ahead of time, then one can just take the damage for the next half minute and know that it will be healed.

I waded through two fireballs before I reached him. He backed away but he was much slower than I was. Chrysamere slashed into him.

He actually turned and ran: undead usually never have the initiative to do that. This made it easy for me: a fireball and then a second fireball and he became a small pile of pieces of scorched bone.

I searched though this pile and found only the blackened clothing, the crown, an iron dagger and a ring. The ring was unadorned: it was simply a band of tarnished metal. I could feel no enchantments on it at all. That didn't seem right, but I took the ring anyway. I also took the crown and the dagger.

I then searched little Barilzar. There was no ring there, no weapon, nor anything but the clothing & crown. I took this crown as well, just in case. I would hate to have to make a second trip because I had overlooked something.

I searched the room but found no other items.

I shrugged, cast Almsivi Intervention, and was back on the surface. I entered the Temple and found Fedris.

I showed him the ring and the two crowns.

He raised an eyebrow.

I shrugged.

He looked towards the door in the back of the reception area. It was the large one that wouldn't open when I had surreptitiously tried it the other day.

I looked questioningly at him.

He nodded.

I raised an eyebrow.

He nodded again.

I walked over to the door. I gave it a tug. This time it opened, smoothly and silently. I entered and found myself in a large round chamber. It was dimly lit but I could see that it was also blue. There were four doors in the walls, including the one I had entered. Most of the floor was covered by a raised dais.

And there she was.

She hovered in the center of the room. She was suffused with a golden glow. This radiated out and lit the five figures who stood around her. They had to be the Hands I had heard about: like ordinators but with powers bestowed on them directly by Almalexia. It was said that they were the most powerful mortal warriors in Tamriel.

She wore a long loincloth which went down past her knees, a metal bra and a pair of unusual asymmetrical pauldrons. Her skin was the golden hue of the Altmer and was covered with ... tattoos? In her bright flaming red hair was a tiara. Her eyes were golden and she was barefoot.

"Come and bath in the light of my glory," she said in the smooth low voice of a Dunmer woman.

I approached. Without thought I sank to my knees.

"I believe you have something for me?" she said.

Mutely I held out the dull ring. She plucked it from my hands: I felt a little shock when her fingers brushed my palm.

"Yes, this is it. It appears to be a simple ring with no enchantments on it, yet rest assured that I can restore its hidden power."

My voice returned to me.

"What are you going to do with it?"

"I don't think you really need to be concerned with that. I will use it for the benefit of my people; that is all you need to know."

I nodded. that was enough for me. In the events that resulted in my becoming the Nerevarine I had come to appreciate Vivec's motivations. I would never know what had actually happened to Nerevar for sure but I did not think that Vivec had murdered him. Vivec's earnest sincerity had made an impression on me. He had made mistakes but he had really wanted to help his people. He wanted to protect and save Morrowind. He had tried his best; he had good intentions.

I had done well by Vivec, therefore ... how could I not trust Almalexia? Though they had been false gods, and were now mortal, I trusted the Tribunal.

"You have served me well. I may have other tasks for you at later time."

It was a dismissal. I nodded and left.

As I exited the temple, I mulled upon the original reason that I had come to Mournhold: the attempt on my life. While evidence pointed to Helseth, it was not solid evidence. I had been thinking of killing Helseth ... but to kill him if he were not the culprit would be wrong. I would have to find out more.

I had no good idea on how to do this but I did know that I would have to start at the palace.





This post has been edited by blockhead: Apr 28 2007, 07:05 PM

Good idea with Fargoth there! Easily the best part of the story so far.

yay...I like it Blockie!....jeez. I sit here on a comp in the lobby of my hotel....just had to read along you see...oh I like Rashelle she´s a woman of my kind! Honestly she is!

I laughed my head off when I read the conversation with fake Barilzar. That was simply awesome.
,,It's the big evil artefact of doom. I must protect it from those who want to steal it."
,,Can I borrow it for an undetermined time?"
,,Well um...sure, why not?"