Redemption, part 2 Options

[jack cloudy]

Click here for Redemption Part 1


Alright, part 2. Still not much redeeming going on but whatever. Now instead of continuing the story, I figured I'd use this post for all the miscellaneous stuff. Things like a character list and the recap for part 1. So be warned that this post CONTAINS SPOILERS. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!


RECAP FOR PART 1 Again SPOILERS!

One night, the palace is breached by unknown assailants. Following standard protocol for such events, the Emperor is secretly transported to the prison by his Blades. The Imperial Battlemage, Ocato, declines to join him, claiming that the situation is under control and that his services aren't needed.

Despite having reached the prison safely, the Emperor soon finds that he is still in danger. It is then that Uriel receives help from an unexpected ally. Angoril Bobardi reveals that the very cell he has inhabited for decades, contains a secret escape route that was built during the simulacrum at the order of Jagar Tharn. With this passage and the considerable magical prowess of Angoril, the Emperor manages to flee the deadly trap.

Also freed from the prison by Angoril is Maorlatta Orgnum, a young (by elf-standards) and somewhat naive girl who was arrested for the crime of sleeping in the park. Once free, she quickly makes herself scarce and eventually finds herself in the shack of an old fisherman who lives on an island in Lake Rumare. The fisherman seeks the help of the thieves guild to rid her of the manacles and prison outfit that would have every Legionnaire arrest her on sight. Unfortunately, the one assigned to pick the locks on the manacles informs Vicente Valtieri instead, who takes a personal interest in the girl’s talent for camouflage. Maorlatta is saved by the Redguard Sorian, a young and rather strange lad who keeps going on and on about something he calls an Ansei. The two team up to go treasure hunting in a nearby Ayleid ruin.

Meanwhile, Angoril returns to the prison. Pretending to be from the palace, he gets a vital clue from the Argonian private investigator Grey-Tongue. The Argonian sends him to Chorrol to find the source of the assassins distinctive red robes. To get to Chorrol, he summons a shiftgate, circumventing days travelling. From Chorrol the trail leads to Kvatch, a city whose precise location he does not know. Unable to summon another shiftgate with reasonable accuracy, Angoril seeks more mundane passage to Kvatch.

While Angoril is travelling, Maorlatta and Sorian hit the Ayleid ruin. After some trouble with a zombie, they strike gold and find an abandoned office with some intact artefacts. They attempt to sell the artefacts in the Imperial city, where they are intercepted by Grey-Tongue and then Vicente Valtieri. Sorian again makes the vampire flee. The next morning Maorlatta wakes up in the Imperial palace with no recollection on how she got there or what happened during her stay at Grey-Tongue’s house. Jauffre interrogates her in the garden at the top of the tower.







Redemption's persons of questionable importance

Main characters:
Angoril Bobardi: An Altmeri sorcerer who inhabited a cell in the Imperial prison, fully aware of the secret escape route. After leaving the prison, he makes it his task to track down the leaders behind the red-robed assassins.

Maorlatta Orgnum: A Maormer from Pyandonea, sent to Tamriel at the command of king Orgnum. Circumstances land her in the same prison as the Altmer. After escaping, she returns to the pursuit of her own goals, one of which is to become filthy rich.

Side characters:
Grey-Tongue: An Argonian private investigator. He is a friend of Hieronymous Lex and has been hired by the guard-captain in the past. Grey-Tongue is hired now as well by the city-guard to investigate the events at the prison and find Uriel’s corpse.
Guard-Captain Hieronymous Lex: Hieronymous Lex is the man put in charge of investigating the massacre at the Imperial Prison. Upon finding that Uriel Septim was seen entering the prison that night, he hires Grey-Tongue to help him uncover the truth.
Sorian: A Redguard who saves Maorlatta from Vicente Valtieri. A simple wandering swordsman with a slight Ansei-obsession.
Rajn Geydar: A Wood Elf who lives in Kvatch. At one point possessed a piece of the Balac-Thurm.

Others:
Guard-Captain Argelius: A colleague of Hieronymous Lex who describes him as the man to call when you need subtlety.
Bannon: A merchant who travelled with Angoril from Chorrol to Kvatch
Baleni: Daughter of Rajn Geydar
Doruk: The Bouncer who worked at Rajn Geydar's restaurant. Deceased.
Penald Baurus: Blade and bodyguard of Uriel Septim.
Berius: Lord Protector and Head of the palaceguard in the Imperial City.
Valen Dreth: A Dunmeri prisoner. Not the most pleasant sort.
Jennifer Renault: Blade, recently promoted to captain.
Glenroy: Blade and bodyguard of Uriel Septim.

Fenasim: A member of the emperor's Palace guard.
Mankar Camoran: The father of both Raven and Ruma. He is the leader of the Mythic Dawn and its prophet.
Raven Camoran: The ‘Hand’ of the Mythic Dawn, an organization with an unknown purpose. What is certain however, is that the Dawn wants Uriel Septim dead.
Ruma Camoran: The sister of Raven, she serves the Mythic Dawn as Priestess. In the same night that the attempt on the emperor’s life is made, she infiltrates the vaults beneath the Imperial palace to steal two artefacts.
Harrow: A member of the Dawn, Harrow used to be an Armiger stationed in Vvardenfell.

Ludius Bester: Member of Bester and Bester, the Kvatch Hall of Mercantile Interests. He runs the office in lower Kvatch.
Aelwin Merowald: An old fisherman who lost most of his leg to Slaughterfish. Friend of Delmar Tunius.
Rajn Geydar: Owner of the Eight Provinces, a restaurant in Kvatch.
Ra’Jezhr: A Khajiiti lockpicker in the employ of the Thieves Guild, Ra’Jezhr is also coerced into serving the Dark Brotherhood’s interests.
Simanuel Rosendorf IV: The owner of a silk-plantation near Chorrol

Umbacano: An Altmer who lives in the capital city. A well-known collector of Ayleid artefacts.
Uriel Septim VII: The Emperor of Tamriel.
Brother Tanner: A priest who serves in the Kvatch-temple. Looks like a Septim.
Delmar Tunius: An old fisherman who lives on a small island in lake Nibenay.
Vicente Valtieri: A member of the Dark Brotherhood, he takes interest in Maorlatta’s talents at stealth, and desires to make her an assassin, with or without her cooperation.

Latta’s evergrowing list of people only she knows:
Levvelyn of Glashorn: The hero of a popular series who spends most of his books saving the world, slaying vicious monsters, duelling devious Altmeri warlords and chasing the girl.
Irrillys: A fictional princess of Pyandonea, she is Levvelyn’s love interest. Posesses an unfortunate talent for being kidnapped by devious Altmeri warlords.
Mettildi: The Maormer that taught Maorlatta how to fight, though his methods traumatized her to the point where she is mentally incapable of defending herself.
Master Zelthir: Another Maormer put in charge of educating Maorlatta. Master Zelthir is a well-known and highly respected healer.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Sep 22 2013, 07:36 PM

[jack cloudy]

Chapter 9.4

Upper Kvatch, Temple gardens


He approached the question of Uriel’s regular ‘gifts’ as methodically as he could. Angoril began from the outside of the temple grounds and would gradually work his way in as he sought some material eveidence of large-scale spending. First was the park that marked the temple-grounds. He saw tiny hump-trees that normally grew within the canopies of their far larger Valenwood cousins. Each had been groomed into the representation of a person, animal, structure or some part of a mythical scene. There were also flowers of many kinds and marble statues of the temple’s long succession of head-priests. While impressive, the Altmer had to conclude that there was nothing to warrant a yearly donation from the emperor. The statues were commissioned only rarely, the flowers were standard and as for the hump-trees – well, he could see Valenwood’s border the moment he stepped outside the main gates. They were not imported from some far away place.

He walked on paths of crisping gravel and circled the gardens twice before shifting his attention to the main temple itself. Like all Cyrodiilic temples built in the early third era, back when Reman Septim possessed the throne and his conquering armies swept the continent, the Kvatch temple did not fit in any clear architectural style. It was crafted from heavy stone, smooth bricks greater than a man assembled into a square groundplan and thick foundations as found in the High Rock style. It reached for the skies and was built to look light in spite of the gray bricks, with coloured glass spanning the vacuous gaps. This he knew to be an attempt at emulating the glass cities of Summerset, though there were no spells infused into its walls which limited the height that could be reached. To support the high ceiling there was both an internal and external framework of arcs and beams, patterned after the skeletal interiors of the Vvardenfell crab-shells. Finally there were figurines of beasts and saints that walked across the frame in an endless parade, reminding one of Skyrim from which the first Septim hailed.

His first thought had been that the temple was undertaking some grand renovation-project, since that was how Uriel’s annual gift had been listed in the book. But no one whom he’d asked had mentioned such a thing. Still, his questions had by necessity been rather roundabound and secretive. He had not asked them directly as much as he had tried to steer them towards the subject. So he’d still held out hopes.
But though there were all the discolorations that indicated newer sections and recent repair-work, it all looked like it had been done piecemeal. A piece of a flying wing here, a new arm on St. Pelinal there. Expensive, but still far from the 5000 septims Uriel donated each year.

The Altmer shook his head and walked up to the double-doors that were opened wide to permit entry for the believers. Once through, he knew that his movements would be more restricted by the unwritten laws of behavior and pietous humility. It was somewhat of an irony that the temples prided themselves on the lavish decorations of their interiors, the whiteness of their altars, yet at the same time considered it to be rude for anyone to actually look up and see. His best option would be to keep his head respectfully lowered. It was a good thing that one of the demands the Divines made was for their floors to be clean and as reflective as a mirror.



He moved slowly yet deliberate, both to maximize his opportunity to study the floor and to avoid suspicion. Through the reflections he noted that the ceiling revealed no new clues. That left but three reasons for Uriel’s anomalous donations. The first was that the emperor had nothing to do with the monetary gifts. There were more than a few persons who enjoyed the Imperial privilege to use money in the emperor’s name. While it was considered good grace to inform their liege of the spending, this was not necessary. The Imperial Battlemage, Ocato, was one of them and Angoril could name a dozen others. Or rather, he could name the positions these individuals kept. His knowledge of who kept the stations was embarrassingly out of date and he had not yet found the time or means to rectify this weakness.
“Add one more thing to do to my list then. Ah, things are never as simple as the chroniclers would have you believe.”

The second hypothesis could go hand in hand with the first, but was not bound by it. This one was simply that someone somewhere was skimming from the temple’s income. Perhaps a priest with a gambling-addiction, or a desire for more luxury than Divine doctrine allowed. Unlikely though, especially over a timeframe as large as the one he was working with. The donations had begun almost immediately after Jagar Tharn’s death and the return of the true emperor to his throne. Someone should have noticed by now.

The third and last hypothesis turned around the idea of donations. Ocato had written them down as such, but politicians lived in a world of metaphors, hyperboles and half-truths. It was possible for the annual gift to not be aimed at the temple, but at a person or persons instead who held connections to this place. Blackmail was one answer that fit this idea, though again the long years it had been continued made this unlikely. The other was a form of gratitude for some service rendered to the Uriel Septim or one of his subjects, a service the man considered valuable enough for this neverending gift.
“In any case, I am unlikely to see it by just walking around in the public areas. Ah well, it was an unimportant goose-chase anyway.”



With the matter closed as far as the Altmer was concerned and since he was here anyway, he wondered if he should take the opportunity to pray for real instead of merely pretending. It wasn’t a habit of his, but it had been more than thirty years. Now would be as good a time as any. But to which entity should he direct his prayers? He did not know who the patron deity of Kvatch was, though he doubted it mattered much. Should he pray to Akatosh, ask the dragon to rewind time on his account?
“I’ve asked the lizard to merely slow it down and it never answered. I doubt it would be willing to go through the extra effort.”
Julianos, for wisdom and insight to help him along? Or to Arkay, for the sake of all those whose lives he’d brought to an early end. Angoril scoffed at the last idea. Arkay would care not for his actions, even if he felt it had been for the good of Tamriel. In fact, most of the Divines would refuse to hear him for that reason. If they ever listened in the first place.
“May I help you?”
He turned ready to politely yet resolutely brush off the eager priest. Any such thoughts he entertained were blown away when he found himself looking right in the eyes of Geldall Septim, first prince of Tamriel.



It all whirled through his head. Why was Geldall here? Did he recognize the sorcerer? Wasn’t he supposed to be dead? He looked younger than he should.
It was that last thought that let Angoril grip the reins on his mind once more. Time had always been kind to the Septims, but Geldall Septim was pushing sixty by now. The white-robed man before him looked like he was still in his mid-twenties. Too young to be the prince. Besides, with the synchronized wave of assassinations, the last thing Geldall would do was to publically serve as a priest. Especially not in a bustling temple as this one. He had to be a mere lookalike.
“I was just wondering who the patron deity of this temple was, brother.” Angoril said and bowed lightly. The man who looked like a Septim nodded.
“Our patron would be Talos, though all the divines are praised in equal measure here. You may speak to whomever you wish, I am certain your prayers shall be heard.” He said and chuckled.
“I do look like him, don’t I?”

Ever since the first shock, Angoril had kept the tightest control of his expression and posture. As such, looking down on the priest was the befuddled and apologetic Tennil. Inside, Angoril again reviewed the man that stood before him. He was cunning. Was it a mind meant for intrigue, or simply the people-skills all good priests would learn sooner or later?
“Was I that obvious? Forgive me, I did not mean to stare.” He babbled. The man shook his head and chuckled softly.
“You and half Cyrodiil, my friend. And why not? That’s my father over there.” He said and waved at a buste located to the left of the main altar. URIEL SEPTIM VII, 3E 412, the plaque said. With the marble head to compare against, the Altmer realized that this priest really looked like a son of Uriel. They carried the same hard chin and aggressive forward thrust of their brow.
“When the count commissioned a buste of the emperor, he couldn’t arrange to have the emperor model so he went to my old man. Folk have always said that we Tanner men have a pinch of the dragon in us. My father used to joke, that if the stories about Tharn replacing the emperor’s sons were true, I should become the new prince. Of course, it’s only a story.” The young priest continued, oblivious to Angoril’s eyes and mind who thought differently.
“With you, it is more than a pinch.” Everything, the payments, the timing, it all fell into place.
He decided to take a gamble. He had to know where the man stood and what he was willing to do.
“But the Septims are all dead now. It said so in the courier. What is going to happen to us next?... Perhaps you should take the throne. The council does its best surely, but we need a face to look up to.”

Tanner’s generous smile froze on his face. For a split-second, he looked angry, though not at Angoril.
“Oh no. Not me, not ever.” He whispered, “This temple is big enough for me. I’m not the man you or anyone should want as their emperor. Besides, you shouldn’t believe everything the courier says. They’re still searching the rubble and Septims don’t die easily. And lord Uriel has been emperor since before I was born. That is a long time to rule a continent. He’s done well, never complaining and never faltering in his duty. When the Divines finally grant him the rest he must desire, it will come to him through peace, not an assassin’s blade.” The words weren’t special, they lacked the elegance of a prepared speech. But the conviction with which the man spoke was contagious. The Altmeri sorcerer realized that the emperor’s voice, that almost supernatural charisma all Septims possessed, was strong with him. He tried to match that conviction in his answer, though he felt he came far short of it.
“You are right, brother. We mustn’t give up hope. The Divines will guide us.” He just wished he believed it.

Brother Tanner guided him in a prayer for the well-being of Uriel Septim. They whispered the old phrases, clasped their hands and lit the candle. Angoril even added two full golden septims to the offerings on the altar. When afterwards the young Imperial bid him farewell and turned to seek for others that would need his aid and guidance, Angoril begged his attention.
“Ah, permit me to ask you one more thing, brother Tanner.” He said and continued after the priest nodded.
“Would there be a Rajn Treesap among your flock? She’s a Bosmeri woman and related to an old friend of mine.” He was somewhat startled by his own admission, and realized that he’d spoken the truth. He did once have a friend who shared family-ties with the woman.
The priest scratched his chin as he thought.
“Treesap…Treesap. I don’t think I’ve heard the name. Rajn Treesap - Oh, but I do know a Rajn Geydar. Bosmeri through and through. She owns an eatery not too far from here. The Eight Provinces, it’s near the south gate.” Angoril made the connection in an instant.



Aran Geydar and Rajn Treesap. Both had been mentioned in Ocato’s book. The Emperor had ordered an investigation into them in 403, for a considerable but not overwhelming sum of 531 septims. The same year there was an investigation costing over ten times as much into a ‘Cluson Alkad’, and the year after that was the first mention of a ‘Luper Alkad’. Over the years the Alkad-case had snowballed into a minor economic and political crisis it seemed, though he was unsure of how this was connected with Treesap and Geydar, if at all. The price-points were too dissimilar, hinting at a difference in priorities. In any case, he wasn’t too surprised to find that the two had stepped into marriage. It had been thirty years and few people remained single for that time.
“Thank you, brother. I will head there then. I am becoming rather hungry.” Angoril said and bowed.
For a moment, the humor Tanner had displayed when he first approached the Altmer returned.
“One last word of advice, my friend. Don’t ask what’s in the ‘Argonian surprise’.” He said with a wink and a smile.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Feb 24 2013, 03:23 PM