The Story of Trey - Chapter 3 Options

[treydog]

Chapter 3

What did it matter where you lay once you were dead? In a dirty sump or in a marble tower on top of a high hill? You were dead, you were sleeping the big sleep…. You just slept the big sleep, not caring about the nastiness of how you died or where you fell.

Raymond Chandler, The Big Sleep


As I staggered out of the teleport area of the Caldera Mages Guild, waiting for my stomach to catch up, I looked the place over. The building's interior reminded me of High Rock- hardwood floors and plaster walls. Before I had gone five steps, an intense-looking Dunmer wizard named Folms Mirel stopped me and asked if I would be interested in doing some work for him. He looked like the sort who should be working in some underground laboratory, with electricity crackling, full of vapors and creatures in jars. But the word "work" was music to my ears. He had been researching something called "propylon indices" and believed he had discovered a way to create a "Master Index." That was all very interesting, but what in Oblivion was a "propylon index?" It seemed that the ancient Dunmer had created a means of traveling from one of their strongholds to another, using an artifact called a propylon index, keyed to the specific propylon chamber they wished to reach. There were ten of those strongholds still standing on the island of Morrowind and the Master Index would enable one to travel to any of the ten. Mirel was so certain of success that he was willing to pay 500 drakes for each index I brought him. Best of all, he was interested in the experiment for the pure science- once the Master Index was complete, he would give it to me and provide the magic required to power my travel from stronghold to stronghold. That sounded like a great bargain, which made me instantly suspicious. Although I figured there must be a catch, I needed the money so badly I agreed to the proposition.

Mirel was pleased by my agreement and told me that the first index, the Hlormaren, was right there in Caldera. Irgola the Pawnbroker had it. The indices did not display any sign of enchantment, so a Detection spell would not identify it. He described it as a small, grayish stone. After getting directions to Irgola's, I left the Mages Guild and took a look around Caldera. Like Pelegiad, it reminded me of home- stone and timber buildings with thatched roofs, a stone wall that was more decorative than protective, cobbled streets. And, like Pelegiad, it contained a large number of Imperial soldiers. Perhaps this wouldn't be such a good base, after all. Curious about the presence of so many guards in a town that didn't have a fort nearby, I asked an Argonian what made Caldera so important. He summed it up in one word, "Ebony." One of the richest ebony mines ever discovered was located just over the mountains south of town, and the Empire wanted to protect their interest. Ebony was heavy, used for making high-quality weapons and armor, and expensive. The guards were there to ensure that nobody got sticky fingers. Thus enlightened, I went to visit Irgola, hoping he wouldn't have any idea of the value of the propylon index. Another lesson for future reference- pawnbrokers almost always know exactly what something is worth. They wouldn't stay in business, otherwise. Worse yet, the shop had its very own Imperial guard. And worst of all, the index was on a windowsill right beside Irgola. If I wanted to "shop at a 100% discount," I would have to walk right past him and lift the item from under his nose. Getting caught would lose me the 500 gold and the dingus. No, I was going to have to negotiate.

I quickly concluded that Mirel himself must have attempted to get the index from Irgola. And if he had, he had managed to make the pawnbroker suspicious and aware that the item had value. He actually wanted more than 500 drakes for it. With no other choice, I trudged back to the Mages Guild, where I could get better prices, and converted some of my better potions into cash. I hated to part with them; they were mostly gifts from Ajira, but there didn't seem to be much choice. After paying Irgola's price, I brought the index back to Mirel, who paid me the promised 500. This moneymaking venture was going about as well as my others- I was down about 70 drakes. And the experience highlighted a weakness in my training and knowledge. My stealth skills were simply not good enough to lift an item while the owner was watching. What I needed was some sort of Illusion magic to improve my ability to remain unnoticed while going about my business. Although Illusion wasn't one of my better schools, my Breton heritage gave me some natural ability with all magic. Therefore, I needed to ask around and see if anyone in Caldera could teach me some concealment spells. There, my luck took a turn for the better. Eraamion could teach either Brevasa's Averted Eyes or Golanar's Eye-Maze. The first was a little cheaper, but was also an invisibility spell- it would dissipate as soon as I took an action other than movement. Golanar's was a Chameleon spell, just what I wanted.

My skills needed some work; maybe I could go just outside of Caldera and practice my new Illusion spell. If I combined the Chameleon spell with my natural stealth, I could stalk some scribs or something. It might look silly, but looking silly was better than what would happen if I failed attempting to sneak up on some dangerous beast. Besides, this close to a town, what could go wrong? Surely all those Imperial guards had kept the wildlife under control. Right there, I made two mistakes. First, never, never, never ask, "what could go wrong," unless you are anxious to find out; second, never assume that guards are good for anything except eating pastries and giving an honest thief a hard time. Oh, and a bonus third error, don't assume that "civilization" means the same thing on Morrowind as it does elsewhere in the Empire.

I wandered a hundred yards or so out of Caldera, working my way northeast. Once I got near the ridge, I cast Beggars Nose to identify likely targets for practicing my stealth. I expected to turn up a few scribs and maybe a kwama forager. As I got closer to the mountains, I began to hear an annoying "skreee-eee" sound. Whatever was making it, there seemed to be several of them- the sound was coming from all around me. "Oh well," I thought, "probably just some sort of carrion bird like a vulture. Nasty creatures, but hardly a threat." Just then something came flapping and screeching down the mountainside and began to batter me with wings, beak, and tail. I caught a glimpse of a 4-winged nightmare with leathery, scaly skin and a hammerhead. And the smell.... it was a terrible odor of some animal left dead for weeks in the sun. The stench almost gave me more trouble than the club-like appendage at the end of the tail. I finally got my shield and sword up and began to fight back. It was difficult to strike effectively, as the flying fiend swooped in and darted up and out of reach. Finally, I damaged the wings enough to bring it down and finish it. Able to examine the corpse, I recognized that this was the infamous cliff-racer, a disgusting pest that infested the mountainous areas of Vvardenfell. As I recovered from that battle, I heard the unmistakable growl of a nix-hound galloping up behind me. Then came another pair of cliff-racers. In spite of the seemingly endless attacks, I had the presence of mind to cast Soul Trap on a couple of the cliff-racers. The idea of using the life-essence of those loathsome beasts to power my enchantments gave me a deep satisfaction. It was almost with relief that I saw a doorway built into the cliff-face. The markings indicated that it was the Indalen Tomb. Whatever was in there couldn't be any worse than the constant attacks coming at me from all sides out here. I plunged into the welcoming darkness of the tomb.

Gathering my wits, I cast my detection spell to see what might be sharing the tomb with me. The spell indicated at least three enchantments, as well as three creatures. The otherworldly inhabitants of the tomb didn't seem to appreciate the intrusion of the living- they whispered and howled around me as I moved deeper. It was almost enough to drive me back outside to the cliff-racers, but the lure of those enchanted items drew me onward. The first chamber contained a number of ingredients, apparently left to nourish and placate the spirits of the ancestors. There was also a minor potion and a magic absorption scroll. The final enchantment was a ring called a Sparkbolt that allowed the user to do minor electrical damage to an opponent. I should have stopped there, happy with the ingredients and items, but I decided to push deeper into the tomb to discover what creatures inhabited the last few chambers. On the other side of a locked door was a Scamp- the least of the daedra that Tamrielic summoners conjured from the Plane of Oblivion. I managed to surprise this one and had no trouble dispatching him. The same was true of a second Scamp, resident of another chamber. The last creature nearly made me a permanent resident of the tomb, though. As I entered that final room, a monstrous shape shuffled toward me. It appeared roughly human, but grotesquely malformed, as if someone with no idea of anatomy had hastily stitched the parts together. Bones poked through flesh and openings gaped in the limbs and torso. I was so revolted; I almost didn't remember to defend myself. I have always been particularly afraid of undead; surely this was one of that cursed family of constructs. The beast hit me and I felt my strength and stamina drain away. I was going to have to win quickly or I would be unable to move. Fortunately, the Bonewalker, for such it was, moved slowly due to the way it was made. A rapid series of strokes with the sword caused the vile creature to disappear, leaving only a pile of bonemeal. I later learned that I had been fortunate to not catch a disease from the attack; my damaged attributes recovered in a short time. This expedition had not worked out at all as I had intended. It was time to get back to town and consider what I should do next.

Returning to Caldera, I asked Mirel about the next index. This time, it sounded a bit better; the Marandus index had been packed up with a lot of junk and stored in the St. Olms Temple at Vivec City. A trip to Vivec made sense; several of the pilgrimage shrines for the Tribunal Temple were located there. I might as well do the pilgrimages- I needed all the help I could get- even from gods I wasn't sure I believed in. Feeling that a city would be safer than the wilderness, I prepared for my foray to Vivec. It should be simple enough to find the Marandus index. After all, how big could the place be?

[treydog]

@hazmick- Trey has a... contradictory... view of religion. As much as he despises authority, he has a longing for something to give order to the universe. And he is also fascinated by the unseen and unknowable- it gives him an itch that he has to try and scratch- no matter the cost. The thing about the Tribunal versus the Daedra Princes and the Imperial Cult (with one or two notable exceptions) is that the Tribunal are actually more accessible and more active. He can pretend that he is "just doing research" or "just trying to fit in," but there is more to his pilgrimage than simple method-acting...

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If anyone ever tries to tell you that drowning is a peaceful, relatively painless death, politely tell that person to go see for themselves and then get back to you. For one thing, it is incredibly hard to drown voluntarily. Your body does not grasp that there is this “quest” you are on and well, you need to breath in a lungful of water. Also, unless you are an Argonian, you are not adapted to inhaling water. It burns, it hurts; it is altogether unpleasant. I know all this because I experienced it in the center of the Puzzle Canal. As my air ran out and I fought the overwhelming impulse to claw my way to the surface, red flashes appeared behind my eyes and my chest spasmed with the simultaneous effort to breathe and not breathe. Finally, the struggle was over. Just as I passed out, there appeared a bright flash of light and a peal of thunder rolled overhead. I found myself floating, unharmed in the Puzzle Canal pool. There was one major difference, though; where there had been a gap before, now a walkway led from the triolith to the opening in the wall. And the misty curtain blocking the opening had also cleared. I wasted no time climbing the shrine platform and turning to view the new bridge. Never in my short life had I experienced a miracle; even the other effects I had seen from shrines could be explained in terms of magical fakery. This was something else, but exactly what, I did not know. I hastened across the bridge to the chamber now revealed. A set of steps rose to another platform, similar to the one in the Puzzle Canal.

At that point, I again had to wonder if my lack of a silver longsword was going to prevent me from completing this pilgrimage. I wasn't sure if I could stand to drown myself again, even knowing that I would be saved. Or perhaps I wouldn't be saved a second time- gods are notoriously fickle and particular. Nevertheless, I decided to at least find out what my "death" had bought me. At the top of the steps stood a demonic figure clad in black and red armor. This then, was a Dremora Lord. I had only ever heard of them as scary stories; I hadn't been sure they were real. Yet here one stood, in all his sinister glory, beside a triolith. Also at the top of the platform was a chest. My curiosity may very well be the death of me one day, but I just had to look. The chest wasn't locked, so I opened it to find...four plain silver longswords. In a way, that was almost more miraculous then my near-death experience. It was unheard of for most temples to give anything away, even those that preached charity. Generally, their definition of charity was that everyone else should give what they had- to the temple. Somehow very little ever seemed to come back out. Even though I was a thief, I decided that two miracles of the gods deserved one miracle from me- I only took one sword, and left the other three. Something had kept me from drowning; I just didn't think theft was an appropriate response. And now it was time to see if my luck or blessing or whatever it was still held. I approached the Dremora Lord.

Powerful though he clearly was, Krazzt was a melancholy sort of demon. With a long-suffering look on his face, he said, "I take it the silver longsword is for me." When I agreed that this was so, he made the following speech, in the manner of one who has recited the same lesson thousands of times:

"As you can see, I am unarmed. But you are brave and gallant. Will you give me your longsword so that I may stand a chance against your might?"

When I passed over the sword, he continued in the same bored tone: "I accept. You have shown the grace of courtesy.... You should read the inscription on the shrine."

I did as the lugubrious Dremora asked and again felt a chill that seemed to emanate from within me. When it had passed, I sensed that I had been blessed with the powers of water-breathing and swift-swimming. Still not certain of Krazzt's goodwill, particularly now that he was armed with a longsword, I cast Almsivi Intervention and returned to the Temple canton. My final stop in Vivec was the shrine named "To Stop the Moon," which commemorated Lord Vivec's feat of preventing one of the moons of Tamriel from being hurled into the holy city. The proof of this deed was that the moon still floated above the Temple canton. The pilgrimage to this shrine was called the "Grace of Daring." The inscription read, in part, "...fortune favors the bold," a sentiment I rather liked. I donated a Rising Force potion and was blessed with a powerful Levitate effect. At last, it was time to go back to Caldera to drop off the Marandus index and collect my reward. I cast Recall to take me back to Balmora, where I settled into "my" room to think.

The field trip outside Caldera and the visit to Vivec had taught me some sobering facts- chief among them that I was not ready to face many of the dangers of Morrowind. Seeing Krazzt the Dremora Lord was frightening; he not only could kill me with minimal effort- he would have, given the chance. He was captive to the geas Vivec had placed upon him, but there were other Daedra who were not constrained. And the Dark Brotherhood was still out there- they were unlikely to give up after one failed attempt. I was simply going to have to concentrate on improving my skills if I was to survive. So I gathered supplies, repaired my equipment, and set out into the wilderness, determined to gain the necessary experience. Of that time, I will say little, except to note that it consisted of long periods of boredom interrupted by seconds of sheer terror, and that I survived it all. I returned stronger, wiser, and more able to cope with Vvardenfell and its myriad perils. The question now became what to do with my hard-won skills. I could continue as I had, drifting from job to job, engaging in petty thievery when nothing else offered, or I could aim for something better.

One episode I will mention in passing, not so much because it is important in the greater scheme of things, but because it was personally significant. After my time of testing and growth, I paid a visit to Seyda Neen and had a long talk with Hrisskar. I explained to him that being a corrupt, thieving, bullying guard was a bad thing. In the end, I'm certain he understood me. The last I heard, he had developed a fondness for soup and soft foods and retired to Skyrim.