The Story of Trey Chapter 10 Options

[treydog]

Thanks to the efforts of Stargelman and Alexander, Chapters 1-8 are available in the Fan Forge section of the main page. So rather than clutter things with reposting all that, I will start with the current "live" chapter.

All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.
Edmund Burke

Chapter 10

Before I relate the next phase of my adventurers in Vvardenfell, I find it necessary to talk for a moment about time. As I have written it, this story seems to be a continuous description of events, one following swiftly on the heels of another. That is not completely accurate, for several reasons. First, there were periods of several weeks that I spent recovering from wounds or from the strain of the many missions I undertook. I have not felt the need to burden the reader with a recounting of all those “slack” periods. Second, certain things occurred during the time of this story that I am not yet ready to reveal. There may come I time when I feel able to relate those other stories, but that time is not now. When I left “home” and made my way to the Imperial City, I was 17. And I celebrated my 18th “birthday” in Vivec. So it may seem strange that such powerful figures as Athyn Sarethi and Sul-Matuul entrusted one so young with the difficult and dangerous tasks that they gave to me. The reason they did so is this- by the time I set my reluctant feet upon the Path of the Nerevarine, when I went into Kogoruhn and came out again, I was 23. Often, in those difficult days, I felt much older, despite the “immunity” to aging that corprus had granted me. Those years had given me a fair number of scars, physical and emotional, and the wisdom that went with them.

While I recovered from my exertions in the ancient House Dagoth stronghold and contemplated my quest to find the Cavern of the Incarnate, I decided that I needed to do two or three other things first. For one, I needed to find out as much as I could about the House Dagoth creatures I had encountered. If I was destined to fight those foul beasts, it would be well to understand the nature of my enemies. The best place to gain such knowledge would be the Ghostgate, where Ordinators and Buoyant Armigers daily fought against the creatures of the Blight. If they would share their wisdom, I might have a better chance of survival. The second task I wished to accomplish was the creation of a better weapon- a sword for preference. In my many battles, I had managed to soul-trap several fairly powerful creatures, and one those soul-gems could be used to enchant a long sword with useful spells. My struggle against Dagoth Uthol was fresh in my mind as I considered this. Because my own skill at enchanting was marginal, I would need to seek the services of a Mages Guild enchanter. The sort of enchantments I had in mind would cost considerably, so I would need to find a way to raise the necessary gold. Such were the mundane thoughts with which I occupied my mind- mostly to avoid thinking too deeply about what would happen when I found the Cavern of the Incarnate.

After frankly moping around Ald’ruhn for two or three days, I decided that it was time to put my plans into effect. My first task would be to have a sword enchanted by Galbedir in Balmora. Here I ran into my first problem- although I had appropriate soul-gems for the sort of enchantments I had in mind, I did not have a good enough sword to take the enchantments. It seemed that an item’s capacity for enchantment was related to the material from which it was made. The best weapons for enchantment were Daedric or ebony, followed by Imperial and Dwemer. Due to its nature, glass was among the worst materials for enchanting- Galbedir tried to explain the reasons, but I fear I quickly got lost in the arcana of her explanation. What it came down to was this- if I wished to have major enchantments placed on a weapon, it would have to be Daedric or ebony. And the best place to find a Daedric weapon was the sort of place I had scrupulously avoided- a Daedric shrine. The items were so rare and so difficult to find that no merchants carried them. Some ebony weapons were rumored to be stored in the Great House vaults in Vivec, but even I didn’t want to think about burglarizing those. And even if I did raid one or a dozen Daedric shrines, there was no guarantee of finding a long blade- it was merely a possibility. Even better, the likelihood of finding such a weapon was directly proportional to the likelihood that said weapon would be guarded or even wielded by some particularly powerful summoned creature. The irony was almost too much for me to bear- in order to create a weapon that would give me a decent chance against the creatures of Dagoth Ur, I would have to face the almost equally nasty summoned creatures of Oblivion. Unfortunately, there was nothing else for it- I simply HAD to have a better sword. And I knew of at least two Daedric shrines that were fairly close to Balmora- Shurinbaal, near Gnaar Mok and Ald Sotha, near Vivec. As I set off for Gnaar Mok, I wondered at the ultimate irony- the cruel twist of fate that had turned me from a thief into a crusader.

This post has been edited by treydog: Oct 22 2009, 05:43 PM

[treydog]

As my fingers closed around the Moon-and-Star ring, the symbol of Lord Nerevar, the stone statue of Azura seemed to become a living being which spoke to me.

“Nerevar reborn, Incarnate!”

She told me that I had passed the first three trials and was, indeed the Nerevarine. She also told me that I must go to the ashkhans of the four Ashlander tribes and be named Nerevarine by all of them. I must then go before the councilors of the three Great Houses and be named Hortator, or “war leader.” Nibani Maesa would be my guide. As Azura spoke these words, visions washed over me- the camps of the Ashlanders and the manors of the Great Houses. Behind it all burned a pure flame, a flame that would cleanse Vvardenfell. And then, the goddess told me,

“When you have stood before the false gods and freed the Heart from its prison, heal my people and restore Morrowind. Do this for me and with my blessing.”

My head still ringing from the voice of the goddess and my eyes blurring from the visions she had sent, I turned away, preparing to leave the cavern. But as I turned, I saw that where there had been mummified corpses, there now stood the shades of half-a-dozen people. They were not threatening nor frightening, rather they were… waiting. Their ghostly faces seemed to contain infinite sadness and infinite patience. Although they did not speak or move, I knew that what they had waited for was me.

Without thinking about it, I knew that I must speak with these shades, that they had some wisdom or knowledge to give me. Therefore, I turned to the first, a male Dunmer standing to the left of the tunnel and bowed to him. He said,

“Welcome, Incarnate. I am Hort-Ledd. I was not the one. But I wait and hope. Ask, and I shall tell you my story.”

He spoke thus,

“I died four hundred years ago, in the last days of turmoil and unrest after the Empire came to Morrowind. I was a thinker, and not a doer, and though I was marked by the stars, I was not a hero. Take these things of mine. My bones won't complain.”

With that, he presented me with a copy of the rare book Sithis and his enchanted robe.

And so it went around the cavern. Each of these people had been marked by the stars, but had not fulfilled the prophecies. They were a crusader, an ashkhan, a thief, a warrior. Each had a story of their failure, through despair or anger or ignorance. Each gave me a gift of their enchanted possessions and warned me that I must not fail. Finally, I reached the last figure, that of a Dunmer female, who stood to the right of the tunnel. She seemed more substantial, more nearly alive than all the others, and her greeting was different:

“Welcome, Incarnate, Moon-and-Star Reborn, Hortator, Nerevarine, Mourner of the Tribe Unmourned, Redeemer of the False Gods. I am Peakstar. I was not the one. But I wait and hope. Ask, and I shall answer, if wisdom guides me.”

Because she seemed to have more knowledge, I asked her many questions, some of which I will repeat here, along with her answers. First, I asked what they had all meant by the words, “not the one.” She explained,

“I am a failed Incarnate. So are all these who remain here with me in the Cavern of the Incarnate. I survived the blight, but I fell in battle with an Ash Vampire. I could not master the arts of war. Nor could I learn the ways of the Great Houses. They would not have accepted me as Hortator.”

When I asked about the title “Moon-and-Star” she told me:

“You bear the Moon-and-Star, the ring of Nerevar. None may deny; you ARE Nerevar Reborn, the prophesied Incarnate. The Temple will know you as an enemy. Ordinators will mark you for death, and the Tribunal Faithful of the Great Houses will hate and fear you. The doubters of the Tribes will test your strength and doubt your honor. You will be known. You must prepare, and be ready.”

There was much else, some of which confirmed that the powers of the Tribunal did, indeed, come from the same source as the power of Dagoth Ur- the tools of the Dwemer priest, Kagrenac. “The Tribe Unmourned” referred to House Dagoth, the house that had served Nerevar most faithfully. Dagoth Ur had been betrayed by Nerevar, who had placed him in an impossible situation- requiring that he guard Kagrenac’s Tools. The false gods of the Tribunal had attacked Dagoth Ur and stolen the tools in order to make themselves divine.

Finally, Peakstar echoed the words of Azura, telling me,

“You must go before the ashkhans of the Wastes People and satisfy them, for only the ashkhans of the Four Tribes can name you 'Nerevarine.' Speak first with Sul-Matuul of the Urshilaku, and with Wise Woman Nibani Maesa, for of all the Ashlanders, they are wisest in the lore of the Incarnate, and you have already shown Sul-Matuul proof of your worth.”

At that moment, looking at the shades of those who had walked this path before me, it seemed that I was looking into a mirror. Their flaws were my flaws; their failures were my failures. I, too, had been guilty of pride, despair, and anger. I had ignored the counsel of those who were wiser. Most of all, I had thought only of myself and how the prophecy affected me. Whatever else may have happened in the Cavern of the Incarnate, I know this of a certainty- I had shed my selfishness and equivocation like a rotten cloak. These were the shades of true heroes, even if they had failed. Through the long years, each of them had done their best to save an entire people, perhaps the entire world, from the madness of Dagoth Ur. And now, it was up to me to succeed where they had not. Although I was not myself Nerevar, the betrayer of Dagoth Ur, I was his incarnation. It fell to me to right the wrongs he had done. I had been given the opportunity to learn from the errors of the Failed Incarnates, to avoid the mistakes that had cost them the victory over evil. When I had thought of heroes at all, I had always assumed that they were somehow different than you or me- that they had some special “something” that allowed them to do great deeds. Now I knew better- a true hero was a person who simply did the best that they could, even when there seemed to be no hope or reason left. A true hero was someone who never gave up, no matter what the odds. Leaving the Cavern was difficult, for I felt a bond with those spirits, but I knew my work had just started. Before I cast the spell that would take me to the Urshilaku camp, I looked at them all and said,

“Peace be upon you, my brothers and sisters. May you find the rest you have sought for so long.”