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- Trust Trey to get sent to a place where the locals not only worship their dead ancestors, but keep them around… As to finding the “correct” skull, well- all shall be revealed….

@Grits- The Dwemer ruins on Morrowind are quite wonderfully done, with all the steam and clanking, spinning machinery set in motion so long ago and now left untended… It is properly spooky. And I remember being quite rattled by the approach of that first Sleeper, as well as the dreams sent from Dagoth Ur.

@McBadgere- My thanks for the compliment. I cannot recall what I was doing for a living when I wrote that line, but Trey’s words probably reflected on my own experiences at the time, which was often the case. I can only hope that my words stand up to a second reading… for myself, I am too close to them to be objective. Although there are times when I wonder who took possession of me to write some of this- because it seems altogether beyond my ability.

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Somehow, I had managed to find myself in a tomb with four, probably undead; guards and most of my magicka expended from healing myself after the previous several guards had used me for target practice. And this was all because I was supposed to find a skull to give to an Orc so the Orc would give me information about a cult to give to the Imperial spymaster, who would no doubt send me out to do something else that would probably get me killed. And I was doing this because...? Maybe because I was afraid of what the Empire would do to me if I didn't. Or maybe because I had said I would. It isn't easy being an honorable thief. Someday I would have to analyze why it was I could steal, but couldn't break my word. But right now, I needed to get the stupid skull, so that etc., etc. etc.

I had just enough magicka left to cast Beggars Nose one more time, and I vowed to pay close attention to the location of all the monsters it indicated this time. There appeared to be at least two more enemies just beyond the room where I had done my best pincushion impersonation and another two back the other way and down a level. Since this was a tomb, the best (or worst, depending on how you looked at it) guards were probably deeper underground. And since it was me that was searching for it, the skull was probably there, too. I made sure that my Almsivi Intervention and healing scrolls were close to hand and turned to go deeper under the ground. I also went into "sneak" mode- trying to become one with the shadows, trying to breathe with the rhythm of the tomb, trying not to scream like a wounded guar when another skeleton archer plunked me with an arrow as I rounded a turn. Biting my lip, I ducked back around the curve and I will swear to you to this day that the accursed collection of bones that should have been buried by a dog shot me again, around the corner! My arrows never managed to do that. I calmed down enough to finally get out of sight, knowing that the guardian skeleton would run after me. Sword at the ready, I waited until I heard the telltale rattle of bones and jumped out to bash him to bits. That last I managed with considerable enthusiasm, but not before he got a couple of more arrows into me. This one also had 50 or so enchanted arrows he hadn't used. I was gaining a significant collection of arrows. And an even more significant collection of arrow wounds. I used up my last healing scroll to repair the damage and tried to decide what to do now. When I was younger, I had a bad habit when thinking- I tended to lean against the nearest wall...or door. Which is nothing worse than bad posture, if the door doesn't swing open to spill you onto the floor in front of a skeleton with a dagger and a bad attitude.

Fortunately, its technique was equally bad, and I recovered fast enough to fend off the attack without getting stabbed, which was a real bonus. Scars are only impressive until you have amassed your own set; I had enough for a regiment. I did some quick math- there were at least two more guardians; I had zero healing magic; Pelegiad was a few hundred yards back up the road; and I only had one life. The correct answer, then, was to go to the Halfway Tavern and rest up. If I could purchase some healing potions or scrolls, that would be even better. If not, I could at least rest and come back in better condition.

It was dark when I emerged from underground, and the night sky had never looked so beautiful. The stars seemed close enough to touch and the air was wonderfully fresh. I took several deep breaths and thanked whatever gods were listening that I was able to do so. With a final shudder at the thought that I was going to have to go back into the tomb, I set out to find a warm bed and some supplies. When I reached town, I headed straight for Mebestien Ence's trading post. As I got closer, my eye happened to fall on the sign outside the armorer's shop next door, and I had a sudden thought- it had been a long time since I had repaired my equipment. As I examined my armor, I realized that its poor condition was one reason the skeletons had been able to hurt me so badly. I would remedy that situation in the morning; for now I wanted to unload a few extra weapons I had picked up here and there and get a room for the night. Drelasa at the Halfway had one healing potion, which I purchased, along with a few alchemy ingredients that were too hard to gather on my own. Finally, I climbed up to my room and fell into bed, exhausted.

The next morning, I went to the armorer to see about purchasing some repair tools. It might have been cheaper to have the repairs done by someone else, but I don't like for strangers to fool with my armor and weapons. Besides, if I could learn to do the repairs myself, I wouldn't have to rush back to a town every time something got dinged. The fact that I had neglected my gear when I knew better was a sign that I had been pushing too hard recently. Somehow, I had acquired a sense of urgency, a feeling that things were moving and I needed to run to keep up. Then, as I went over my gear, I saw another indication that I was trying to do too much, too fast. There I was, in a town overflowing with Imperial guards, and I had a pack full of Dwemer artifacts. Suddenly, the denizens of the Andrano Tomb didn't seem so bad. I decided that my repairs could be accomplished just a little way out of town, where it was less likely a "friendly" guard would ask what I was doing- and, oh, by the way, what's in the bag?

One thing I did like about Pelegiad was the plentiful supply of marshmerrow that grew in the shallow water nearby. The stalks had healing properties, which I could definitely use. Of course, my alchemy apparatus was back in Balmora- I had managed to stop short of carrying that with me. So I had a bunch of Dwemer stuff, possession of which could get me killed; and no alchemy apparatus, possession of which would have allowed me to make potions to maybe stay alive. And I had a tomb to finish exploring. It really is amazing that I managed to reach adulthood.

Back inside the tomb, I cast the detection spell and saw three enemies. I thought there should only be two left, but this seemed like a popular spot for undead. I guess they were just dying to get in. Sorry. I went into sneak mode and soft-footed past the door I had fallen through the previous day. In a large basement room, I managed to surprise a skeleton armed with a club. For a change, I got to pelt my opponent with arrows. A few well-placed shots- with skeletons, they have to be well-placed- dropped the guard. The room contained a few ingredients and a small chest with a few gold- I might not make much profit from this trip, but I would take whatever offered. A corridor at the far end of the room had a door on the right, which opened to reveal a ramp leading further down. My detection spell indicated that the two remaining monsters and two enchanted items were down the ramp.

When you have to deal with multiple opponents, divide and conquer is the way to go. Separate them or get yourself into a position where only one at a time can come at you. The stories are full of scenes like- "The great hero swung his mighty two-handed sword and clove five goblins with a single blow." Yeah, right. That might happen if the goblins politely lined up and stood completely still the whole time. And if the sword didn't catch on bone or armor or a defender's weapon. No, that sort of thing makes for great stories, but lousy reality. In this case, my opponents, and some unexpected luck, solved the problem for me. As I eased down the corridor, making maximum use of the shadows, I saw the legs of a skeleton standing at the far end of the passage with its back to me. The unmistakable grunting and roaring of a Bonewalker came from behind the closed door of a room to the right. I knelt down in the shadows to get a better angle, drew the bowstring back, and let fly. Forgive me while I stop to savor the moment. I fired down a set of steps, in a dark tomb, at a target at the far end of a corridor- and dropped it with a single arrow. It was a thing of beauty; it was the reason I had worked at learning to use a bow since arriving. Of course, there was also still a Bonewalker to deal with. And I didn't think it was going to stand still while I opened the door and shot it full of arrows. Nevertheless, I did switch to the fire-damage arrows, figuring to get one or two off before having to go to the sword.

I tried to time opening the door to a moment when the undead construct was farthest away, but it was such a small room that it didn't help much. The good news was that this was a regular Bonewalker, one that preferred to use attribute-draining spells before attacking with claws and teeth. My dubious heritage paid off, as I avoided or resisted all but one of the spells. Meanwhile, I hit the creature with two arrows, which weakened it considerably. They also enraged the nauseating collection of flesh and bone, which shambled toward me, roaring. I dropped the bow and went to sword and shield. Because of the damage from the arrows, this Bonewalker fell more quickly than any of the others. It even yielded a soul gem. Now I had the crypt to myself. I immediately noticed a skull inscribed with ritual markings resting on a kneeler in front of an ash pit. Llevule Andrano, I presumed. For the moment I left it there and searched the rest of the room, coming up with a real treasure, a book- Sermon 15 of the 36 Lessons of Vivec. I clutched the book to me and picked up the skull. So now it was time to go. And I found that I was carrying so much stuff that I couldn't move.