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]

@McBadgere- Vivec City is really quite something, even all these years later. It did nearly drive me to despair that first time, with the walkways and levels and etc. This will be Trey’s first experience of a Dwemer ruin, so it will have an effect upon him…

@hazmick- There is something about Balmora, even though it is a Hlaalu city, that draws Trey back. Possibly it is the compactness- or maybe the greenery- or possibly the lack of many Imperials….

Where we are- Trey has decided he really can't afford to ignore his forced recruitment into the Blades (especially with the Dark Brotherhood trying to stick knives into him) and has gone back to his "handler" for instructions. Caius wants Trey to investigate the Sixth House Cult and the Nerevarine Prophecies. There are people who can help, but nothing comes without a price, so Trey is going to investigate the Dwemer ruin of Arknghthand, seeking something called a "puzzle box."

As ever, many thanks for reading...

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I should have known it wouldn't be as easy as just walking down to the corner club for a drink- if getting the puzzle box was simple, Hasphat would have done it himself. The crank to open the door was right where it was supposed to be, on a post just to the left of the path. The door to Arkngthand opened with a rumble and a hiss, like some huge valve. The interior showed signs of great upheavals in the earth; walkways made of almost indestructible Dwemer metal ended abruptly in mid-air, but ramps constructed of earth and stone provided a means of access. Somewhat shaken by my encounter with the looter outside, I decided sneaking would be a wise course to take. Soon enough, I rounded a bend and saw a two-level gallery, open on the side facing me. There was also a tunnel off to the right about halfway down the stone ramp, but I focused on the two men working around some crates in the gallery. Suspicious though I was of their reason for being in the ruin, I was still willing to let them make the first move. That generous spirit may get me killed one day, but I refuse to take the first shot at another human being. My good nature was rewarded as it usually was- the first looter spotted me, drew a dagger, and ran toward me. Just because I was willing to be friends didn't mean I wasn't prepared- I got a couple of arrows into him before he closed with me. My sword again proved its value against shorter weapons, and the first bandit died quickly. His partner, just noticing the commotion, made the same fatal error of trying to match a dagger against a sword. You can win such a contest, provided you use the element of surprise. If you are going to just run out yelling and waving the dagger around- well, that's as good a way to commit suicide as any.

Thinking that "higher usually means richer," I climbed to the second level of the gallery. It was then that I became aware of the constant banging and clanking that echoed through the ruin. It was unnerving to realize that some of the machines left untended for so long were still functioning. Who could tell what those devices were supposed to do? And who knew if one of them would suddenly give way, spewing a toxic vapor into the air? The whole place was a giant tomb- it just didn't know that the owners were dead. Or perhaps it did, and all those rattles and bangs were some weird form of mechanical mourning. And maybe I needed to read different books at night if I wanted to stay in my chosen profession. I searched the upper gallery and found a few trinkets, as well as some massive Dwemer furniture. At first, it seemed that they only worked in metal, but then I realized that any wood or fabric would have long since rotted away. Only the metals were tough enough to resist the slow passage of time. A circular hatchway, upon which someone had scrawled "Cells of Hollow Hand," apparently a translation of the Dwemer, opened at the left side of the gallery. As there was no choice but to go on or go back, I opened the door.

A short hall led into a room filled with crates, metal desks, and pipes. And also a large Imperial, waving a large axe and threatening me with severe bodily harm. A person could get really tired of this after a while. All I wanted was the puzzle box- these guys could go about their illegal activities and I wouldn't say a word. But for some reason, every criminal I encountered seemed to think I was the Imperial Tax Man. To tell the truth, it made me wonder about my career path. Were all criminals terminally stupid? Or maybe these guys were just killers as well as smugglers and thieves. Hasphat had said that the penalty for smuggling Dwemer artifacts was death. Meanwhile, the yelling, axe-waving Imperial had gotten close enough to bash me with his weapon. Even though the Dark Brotherhood armor kept the edge from cutting me, the sheer impact was powerful enough that I wondered if I had some broken bones in my shield-arm. Note to self- consider the reasons criminals turn from theft to murder AFTER you prevent said criminals from killing you.

The ring-mail my opponent was wearing gave me some trouble; it prevented me from getting any good cuts to the torso. However, the electrical damage from each successful hit still got through and caused him to flinch. I was finally able to make a killing strike to his unprotected neck, and stopped to heal myself before investigating further. This looter was carrying substantially more gear than the other two; I had a feeling he was the head man of this little gang. Soon enough, I got confirmation; among the scrolls, potions, and Dwemer artifacts were some papers that identified the dead man as "Boss" Crito. You can always tell a small-timer by the title or name he gives himself. Real leaders of criminal organizations have names given to them by their people or their enemies. And usually, the names are misleading- like calling the biggest guy in the place "Tiny." So when you come across a guy who says he is "The Most Dread High Omnipotent Stomper," he probably has a job sweeping up. So a "boss" this Crito may have been, but he was boss of a garbage detail, at best.

Knowing that the top man would want to keep a close eye on all the best loot, I gave the room a careful search. There were plenty of Dwemer cups, bowls, and pitchers, all nicely crated up and no doubt waiting to be loaded on the carts outside. In fact, there was more than I could carry, even with my light armor and minimal gear. But best of all, I spotted a small, coppery cube on the bottom of a shelf in the corner. That was the only Dwemer item that really mattered to me. I gathered a good sampling of the other stuff- just because I was officially working for the Empire didn't mean I had stopped working for myself- and decided to use Almsivi Intervention to get back to Balmora. It was quicker, I could carry more loot, and I needed to practice my Mysticism. After my stomach stopped trying to climb out of my throat, I dropped all the goods except the puzzle box in a dark corner of the Temple courtyard and went to see Hasphat.

The Fighters trainer was really pleased with the little cube; he kept turning it over and over in his hands as he talked. He was like a child with a new toy, one he's seen but never thought to own. He talked about how the puzzle boxes were usually designed to serve some purpose other than decoration; the inscriptions on this one seemed to indicate it was a key of some sort, perhaps to a deeper level of Arkngthand. Hasphat promised to let me know if he figured it out. Meanwhile, true to his word, he had prepared a report on the Sixth House for Caius. He told me a bit about it when I asked. It seemed that the Sixth House, House Dagoth, had betrayed the other Great Houses during the War of the First Council and was destroyed. Its members were hunted down and killed or else, if they had been loyal, absorbed into other Houses. He then gave me a list of books that contained information on the Sixth House, saying that the bookseller there in Balmora probably had most of them. I had purposely stayed away from the bookseller because I knew my weakness for books- I would either have spent all my gold or tried to steal something if I went in the place. But this seemed almost like an order- even Caius had told me to "learn some history." Maybe I could get the spymaster to pay for the books? Right, and maybe I could fly if I flapped my arms and wished.

When I asked Hasphat about Morrowind history, he gave me his spare copy of "On Morrowind, the Imperial Province." I thanked him and took my leave, planning to read the book and the report on the Sixth House. Since nobody had told me not to, I took a look at the report before going back to Caius. It said basically the same as Hasphat had told me, with the additional information that "the Temple says the ancient, legendary evil beings that dwell beneath Red Mountain in the Dagoth Ur region are the original leaders of this extinct house, sustained by some powerful, evil sorceries." That sounded just wonderful- beings who were supposed to be long dead, sustained by magic. I was glad that this was Caius' problem and not mine. With that cheerful thought, I crossed over to Caius' house to give him the report and collected my reward. He promised to look the report over, but noted that it didn't really say anything about the other matter, the Nerevarine Cult.

"Oh, that," I said. "Hasphat said Sharn gra-Muzgob over at the Mages Guild knew more about that than he did."

Caius mulled that over for a moment, and then said, "She's not too bad for an Orc; she'll probably ask you to run some fool errand. Do what she says and get that report."

When I asked about pay, Caius looked a little surprised; he seemed to think I was doing this out of respect and love for the Emperor or something. Finally, he rummaged around under the bed, saying, "I gave you most of my ready cash when you first got here. Take this; maybe you'll learn something." With that, he handed me "A Short History of Morrowind." If I had known the Blades paid in books, I would have joined a long time ago.

Realizing that there was nothing more for the moment, I headed back to the Mages Guild to do a little reading and maybe talk to Sharn. As I crossed the Odai, a peculiar thing happened. A strange-looking Dunmer accosted me and said,

"I am a Sleeper, one of thousands. I bring you a message, Dagoth Ur calls you, Trey, and you cannot deny your Lord. The Sixth House is risen and Dagoth is its glory."

When I tried to question him, he rambled on about "...the sleeping house, awakened to drive the n'wah from the land." I got the distinct impression that I was one of the "n'wah" that was supposed to be driven. Drugs and drinking can have strange effects on people; I hoped he would get some help.

After all the fighting and lectures and odd encounters, I decided to rest before talking to Sharn. After all, I had a bed right there in the Mages Guild; surely she wouldn't disappear if I took a little nap. Just as I had dropped off to sleep, a vivid and disturbing dream came to me- I was at a party, and a tall figure wearing a golden mask was beside me. The figure was talking to everyone and I realized that they were all dead. When I tried to scream, I had no breath. When I woke up, I decided I was definitely going to have to stop eating pickled kwama eggs before bed. Although I didn't realize it at the time, indigestion was the least of my problems.