The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl: Part 2 Options

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The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl : Part Two
The Dunmer at the next table were discussing the haunting at the Gateway Inn, and complaining that they were being forced to curtail their business in Sadrith Mora since there was nowhere for them to stay. I remembered Prefect Angaredhel saying something about one of the Telvanni representatives looking into the problem. Perhaps I should look into it myself ~ and this Arara Uvulas seemed like a good place to start. I finished up my drink and headed down to the slave-market. Nodding to a couple of very muscular House Telvanni guards, I crossed the bridge towards the Council House. I say “bridge”, actually, it looked more like a root that had been flattened out on top and had coincidentally joined the Council Hall to the side of the cliff. (It would take quite a while before I got used to Telvanni “architecture”).

Inside the cool and dark building, a well-dressed Dunmer woman directed me to the council chamber. Behind the round wooden door was a large, circular chamber. The centre of the chamber was dominated by a massive crystal growth ~ from which a strange bluish-green light and a faint humming noise emanated. Around the outer radius of the chamber were a number of platforms, raised about head-height from the floor. On all but two of these stood well-dressed and aloof-looking Dunmer: the representatives of the Telvanni Council. Actually, it’s a little more complex than that, but I’ll try to clarify the status quo as I go on).

“Yes, I investigated the haunting at the Gateway,” the dark-haired Arara Uvulas said in response to my question. “At first it seemed like a traditional manifestation, even though the Gateway is a relatively new building and has no history of foul murder or dirty deeds. Nor, indeed, is it built on any known burial ground or religious site. I performed the standard exorcism, which seemed to work at the time. However, I’d barely left the chamber when the ghost came back again.

“I’ve tried several rituals and incantations since, but none of them work for more than a moment or two. I am, quite frankly, at a loss to explain why this spirit keeps reappearing and am beginning to suspect that there is some malicious intent behind it. A conjuration expert perhaps? However, I’m interested in why you’re interested.”

I couldn’t really explain why I was interested, and mumbled something about studying the application of magic. That seemed to arouse her interest in me even more, and she asked me to stay right where I was while she conferred with her fellow representatives. I didn’t see the harm in that, and stood there while they all closed their eyes and somehow spoke to each other. Don’t ask me how, because I won’t be telling you. Anyway, after a few moments silent communion, Arara Uvulas turned to me and asked, “Would you be interested in joining Great House Telvanni?”

“Let me tell you the rules of the house,” she went on, seeing that I was having some trouble framing a reply. “Then, perhaps, you’ll be able to make a decision.

“If you steal from another Telvanni, but still live, then clearly you deserve whatever you stole. Murdering your opponents by magic or treachery is the traditional way of settling disputes. If you win, then clearly your argument has more merit. You may be expelled as in any other Great House, but most Telvanni will not care or even know about it. These are the principle rules of Great House Telvanni, do you think you can abide by them?”

“Are there no other rules?” I asked, intrigued. That ‘if you murder your opponent and get away with it, your argument has more merit’ clause probably explained the strange behaviour of the Telvanni in Tel Naga after I fulfilled the bounty on Engaer.

“Power,” Uvulas said. “The acquisition of and exercise of power be it financial, magical, physical, or some other form of power. That’s the only other rule of the House. Now, tell me, can you abide by our rules and do you wish to join Great House Telvanni?”

I was, to be honest, feeling a little numb. I’d always been a loner, both with those that called themselves my parents and in the intervening years. I’d joined the Fighters Guild out of self-interest and, while they’d shown some interest in me, it was purely a professional one. I’d been rewarded for jobs done well and given fresh jobs to do. However, I’d had to ask to join the Guild, they hadn’t asked me. Now here was one of the ruling houses of Morrowind province asking, actually asking, if I was interested in becoming a part of their House. With a lump in my throat, I said that I’d be honoured to be counted a member of Great House Telvanni.

“Then,” Arara Uvulas said, “let me be the first to welcome you Hireling Vahl. May your presence in the House reflect well on all of us. For the moment, you will take your instruction from us, the Mouths of the Councillors. Likewise, we will answer any questions you have and give you instruction in the ways of the House. Now, I have a small task for you.”

“May I ask you a question?” when she indicated that I could, I continued. “I don’t understand. I thought that you were the Telvanni Council, yet you say that you represent the Telvanni Council.”

“Yes Sudhendra,” she explained. “The people we represent, the Masters of Great House Telvanni, rarely meet. Yet it is important that members of the Great House can pass messages to them, or perform duties for them, without having to travel to isolated places. That’s where we come in. we each represent a Master and speak for them in this forum ~ hence the title ‘Mouth’. I represent Master Neloth of Tel Naga. And right now, Master Neloth has need of five portions of Sload Soap. Here are five hundred Septims ~ you may keep any change.”

Taking the money, I walked out of the Council Chamber into the cool, damp, darkness of the outer corridors. “Excuse me,” I asked the Dunmer female nearby, “but do you know where I might be able to get some Sload Soap?”

“Your best bet is Anis Seloth,” the woman said. “She usually has a large supply of the rarer alchemical ingredients.”

“Thank you…” I said.

“Dalyne Arvel, Hireling,” she introduced herself.

“Sudhendra Vahl, Hireling,” I said by way of a reply. She smiled and welcomed me to Great House Telvanni. She then gave me concise directions on how to find Seloth’s shop. I was to find that news spread quickly in Great House Telvanni and, even before I stepped out of the Council Hall, people in Sadrith Mora knew I was part of the Great House. Even the guards, who’d mostly addressed me as “outlander” or (more frequently) “scum” were more kindly disposed to me. One of the burly guards protecting the entrance to the Council Chambers even went so far as to say “Fair day to you Muthsera.”

I found Anis Seloth’s shop easily enough; it was a large mushroom perched on a steep ridge overlooking the slave-market. Anis, herself, was a petite Dunmer who always gave the impression of being rushed off her feet. However, she was well supplied with a variety of potions and ingredients, and she had more than enough Sload Soap to fulfil Arara Uvulas’ requirements: the only matter now was the price. Anis Seloth was more than willing to haggle over the price and I eventually got a good price on the five packets of white, waxy Soap: two hundred and forty-three Septims. This left me a healthy two hundred and fifty-seven Septims profit. Well pleased with myself, I returned to the Council Chamber and handed the packets to Neloth’s Mouth.

After thanking me, she asked if I was willing to undertake another task for her Master. “Master Neloth collects staves,” she said. “And he has heard that someone at the Mages Guild at Wolverine Hall has a staff of the Silver Dawn. He very much wishes to add it to his collection…”

“Say no more,” I interrupted. “It will be my pleasure to fetch the staff for Master Neloth’s collection.” I waited a moment, but it was obvious that no clink was forthcoming. That meant that the lovely profit I’d made would probably be spent on the staff. Remember what I said about the gods and their japes?

I walked over to Wolverine Hall and made my way up to the Mages Guild. As luck would have it, the first person I spoke to was a Mage by the name of Arielle Phiencel, and it was Arielle Phiencel who had the Staff of Silver Dawn in her possession. Unfortunately she wouldn’t accept less than three hundred Drakes for it. Rather begrudgingly I handed over the money and took possession of the staff. It sang with that sweet magical note that all ensorcelled items have (for me, at least) but it certainly didn’t look very prepossessing. The silver was badly tarnished, and there were areas that looked like they’d been scorched with something fairly acidic. Still, a Staff of the Silver Dawn was what was required, and this was one.

As I turned to leave, a thought struck me. “Tell me,” I asked Arielle Phiencel, “who is the best at conjuration here?”

“That would be Uleni Heleran,” the Breton replied. “She teaches a course here at the Guild. Why?” By dint of some careful questioning, I managed to draw out some useful information. Namely that Uleni Heleran has been teleporting in and out of the Guildhall quite frequently of late. I was also told that Heleran had some sort of grudge against ‘someone in town’.

“I know what you’re doing,” I said to Uleni Heleran. At first, she tried to deny it but soon admitted that it was she who was conjuring up the spectre at the Gateway Inn. I persuaded her that it might have been fun to start with, but that the “joke” was wearing thin. She postured a bit longer, claiming that Angaredhel had fined her for not applying for Hospitality Papers when she arrived here. However, she soon relented and gave me a note ~ which she called “ghost-free papers” (a sad joke on Hospitality Papers I suppose) ~ to give to Angaredhel, along with a promise that she would stop her conjurations at the Gateway.

I stopped off at the Gateway Inn on my way back to the Telvanni Council Chambers and spoke to Angaredhel. As I expected, he was bloody furious when he found out that Uleni Heleran was responsible. When he’d calmed down a bit, he fetched out a small tray and showed it to me. “You’ve done well Ser Vahl,” he said. “For stopping that wretch from ruining me, please choose a ring.” There, on the tray, sat three very traditional rings: the burnished bronze and topaz of a Thieves’ Ring; the mottled copper and turquoise of a Fighters’ Ring; and the polished silver and jadeite of a Mages’ Ring. Naturally, I chose the Mages’ Ring.

“This is exactly what Master Neloth is looking for,” Arara Uvulas said as I handed over the staff. “It’s not particularly potent, but its spells are useful in a pinch. Do you know any combat-magic Ser Vahl?” when I admitted that I only knew a few spells, Uvulas took the time to teach me a cantrip designed to blind an enemy. I thanked her profusely, knowing that I’d gained just a little more knowledge. And knowledge, as every Telvanni knows, is power.

“If you feel up to more tasks today Hireling,” a clear voice called across the chamber. “I have a small job for you to undertake.” The speaker was Felisa Ulessen, Mouth to a Mistress Therana. I went over to speak to her.

“I have a skirt here that needs to be delivered to my Mistress at Tel Branora.” Lowering her voice, she added, “My Mistress can be a little… eccentric at times. Please take these scrolls in case you need them.”

Looking at the scrolls of ALMSIVI Intervention, I asked the obvious question, “where is Tel Branora?” Ulessen showed me on my map, adding that a boat was probably the best way to get there. Perhaps, perhaps not, I thought as I looked at the tiny islet far to the south on my map. Taking the skirt, I stood and spoke in a clear, concise voice “Ex hic absum, ut Ald’ruhn.”

To my delight, Delas Mrania had a Void-Walk spell for Tel Branora, which I promptly purchased. Then I had the Guild-Guide service send me to Balmora so I could rest for the night.

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“The Hlaalu are making one of their infrequent grabs for Odirniran,” he explained. “Here, let me show you where it is on your map…” We spread the map out on the table, and Master Aryon pointed to the peninsula of land at the extreme southwestern end of the island. “As you can see, Odirniran dominates the headland and gives a superb view of any sea borne vessel approaching from the east. Hlaalu would dearly love to get their hands on it since it would deprive Great House Telvanni of much of our knowledge of Great House Hlaalu’s smuggling operations in that area.

“I want you to travel to Odirniran as quickly as possible and protect Milyn Faram. I trust you’ll deal harshly with those Hlaalu scum?”

Resolving to ask Master Aryon about his attitudes to the Hlaalu ~ given that they were the Great House most closely allied with the Empire, and Baladas had said that Master Aryon wished to forge closer ties with the Cyrodiils ~ I prepared to translocated to Tel Branora. And, of course, that was the first time I managed to screw up the spell! I had the shape of the spell formed in my mind and was just preparing to enable it when the whole structure twisted and deformed, collapsing completely. So, rather embarrassingly, I had to speak the words of the spell to travel to my destination.

There’s little to tell of my journey north: the usual problems with the aggressive wildlife that infests the island. I must be getting better at this fighting lark since I had little or no problems dealing with them. So it was that I came to Odirniran.

This was the same sort of domed building as Arvs-Drelen; a style I’d been informed was ‘Velothi’. As with many of these places, the building had been ‘submerged’ in the living rock by some Art long forgotten. The door wasn’t bolted or warded, and I was able to enter with no problems. Of course, my problems started almost immediately thereafter.

Master Aryon’s instructions had been to locate Milyn Faram and find out how many of the Hlaalu had invested his tower. It was, as plans go, eminently sensible and it’s a real shame I didn’t have a chance to put it into operation. All of these Velothi-style buildings have a vestibule, a sort of small outer chamber that opens onto the inner corridors. I can only assume that they are intended as an area where the master of the tower can meet with visitors or traders. Since the structure of the building was so similar to Arvs-Drelen, I may have been a little overconfident in my approach.

I’d no sooner stepped into the inner corridor and looked around to see which way to go than a scruffily dressed woman stepped around a corner to my left. We spotted each other at the same time and, as she rushed at me, I struggled to draw my sword. I managed to get my blade up just in time, and there was an echoing ‘clang’ as metal met metal. This, of course, alerted another of the Hlaalu scum who was in the room around the corner and he came running to assist.

Now I had a major problem for the corridor was just wide enough for the two of them to simultaneously attack me. Fortunately, the man was armed with nothing more offensive than a dagger ~ which my armour turned quite nicely. But it was only a matter of time before he got in a stroke that my armour wouldn’t turn, and then I’d be in trouble. Or, more accurately, more trouble: the woman with the sword was a well-trained fighter and it was all I could do to block her strikes. Retaliation was out of the question.

“Coward!” the man screamed as I broke off from combat and raced down the corridor away from them. Light armour meant that I was slightly swifter than they were, and all I needed was a few seconds grace. As they rounded the corner, they came face to face with a Telvanni Mouth, full of righteous anger and fully ready for them.

“Obscurum successio” I chanted as they came into view. A cloud of greenish vapour enveloped them and, from inside the obscuring cloud came screams of anguish. The cloud cleared quickly, and the two Hlaalu were once more revealed to me. I, however, was not revealed to them.

Milky white cataracts covered their eyes as a result of the spell and they hurled imprecations as they groped and staggered. I took little pride and no pleasure in killing them; it was too much like butchery for that. Having cleansed the gore from my blade, I made my way back down the corridor towards where they’d been hiding ~ only this time, I was as careful and as quiet as I could be.

It was a wise tactic for; in the large chamber at the end of the corridor, a spell-caster from House Hlaalu awaited me. He had a fondness for spells from the school of illusion, and the whole of my right arm went numb when I got caught in the backwash of one of his paralyzation spells. It was something of a standoff, he wouldn’t come out of the room he was in and I certainly wasn’t going to go in while he was throwing such dangerous spells around. There was a certain amount of badinage and name-calling going back and forth along with the spells.

“Telvanni filth,” he yelled. “Come in and get me. If you dare.”

I closed my eyes and concentrated, drawing on the forces swirling around me as I carefully constructed the shape of the spell in my mind. Opening my eyes, I carefully traced the complex pattern of “phasmatis” in the air with my forefinger. Swirling motes of dust gathered directly in front of me and slowly formed into a stern, matriarchal figure. One of the Hlaalu’s spells splashed against the wall nearby, and the ancestral spirit responded instantly. The stern, yet friendly, features melted away to reveal the ghastly visage beneath as the fingers extended and glowed with eldritch fire. Sweeping away from me and into the room, the spirit I’d summoned went forth to wreak bloody revenge.

And retribution most dire it must have been, if the spell-caster’s screams and cries were aught to go by. I shuddered and flinched as a particularly brilliant flash lit the room and the corridor I stood in. After that, a sudden silence descended. Taking a steadying breath, I stepped into the chamber. And screamed loudly as a hand clutched my leg.

The bloody ruin of the spell-caster glared up at me, his face reddened and blistered where it wasn’t burned black. He hissed some imprecation at me but it was too soft for me to hear and his passing prevented me from asking him to repeat it. Not that it would have been particularly illuminating if I’d had the chance. Carefully disengaging myself from his clutching hand, I stepped back and surveyed the chamber. It seemed to be some sort of living area, possibly for the tower’s servants. The Hlaalu had used it as a staging area, and I wondered why they’d not proceeded further into Odirniran.

I soon found the reason why. Back from the chamber, the corridor ran in a tight curve until it ended at a door. Even without casting, I could see the wards on the wooden surface ~ venomous and vile things that whispered of agonising pain and lingering death. And that didn’t take into account the strangely wrought lock. I was, however, to get another surprise. As I drew close to the door to examine the spells that were woven into the very fabric of the wood, the wards flared and collapsed as, with a heavy clicking sound, the lock unfastened itself. The door, now totally inert, swung open at my touch.

When I stepped through into the dimly lit area beyond, the door swung shut and the lock and wards re-engaged immediately. Which was an impressive bit of magic, but it did leave me trapped on the wrong side of the door with something of a problem. Racing towards me, shouting syllables of some strange language was a bizarre figure clad in dark armour and wielding a vicious-looking mace.

At first sight, the armour appeared to be made of Ebony (a fact which worried me somewhat since the figure was uncommonly fleet of foot despite the huge mass of such armour) but it had odd highlights of red and purple that looked like no Ebony armour I’d ever seen. Then there was the outlandish nature of the being inside the armour. It had the same skin tones as a Dunmer, but had Mannish ears and strangely shaped eyes that, while crimson, seemed to burn with an inner flame. The mouth was much too large for the elongated face, a face covered with whorls and patterns that seemed to be part of the flesh rather than some tattooed design. Topping the head was a topknot of copper-coloured hair that streamed behind the figure like a plume as it ran effortlessly towards me.

All of these observations ran through my mind as I readied myself, naked blade drawn back and ready as it approached. The downward arc of the mace was arrested by the upward sweep of my blade ~ a sweep that I turned into a ferocious slash at the armoured chest. Sparks flew, and I almost got my head caved in as a screaming face flickered across the cuirass of the creature in front of me. Ducking under the mace’s arc, I stabbed inward with my sword.

Again sparks flew, but this time they were the sparks of lightning from the blade’s enchantment. The creature staged, emitting a strange moan as lightning played across the screaming armour. And there was no mistaking it this time ~ there was an inhuman face screaming in agony, as if of some spirit magically embedded in the dark metal. The armour wasn’t enchanted, there was no music from it, and I was at a loss to explain what I saw as I hammered repeatedly at this malevolent being, driving it back towards the pit it had come from.

The armour cracked under my frantic blows, dulling instantly to grey. The effect on the creature was both immediate and astonishing. It dropped its mace and threw back its head, roaring in bestial agony as, starting from the boots upwards it simply turned into powder before my eyes. Almost in the same time it takes to relate, the creature was gone, changed to dust. Odd dust too, for it seemed to be little more than powdered stone of the same shade as the walls: almost as if the being had formed itself from the very fabric of the building.

Milyn Faram, when I finally reached him in the dome atop Odirniran, was a pleasant but eccentric fellow. Firstly he thanked me for dealing with the Hlaalu invaders, and then he started telling me about his research. As far as I could determine, he was experimenting with alternate ways of creating summoning scrolls. It seems that creating a scroll in the traditional way requires the summoning and soul-capture of the creature. The essence, or soul, of the creature is then bound into the fabric of the scroll along with various glyphs of summoning and binding. However, Milyn Faram had been having some success (at least according to him) using actual physical parts of the creature to be summoned rather than parts ineffable and transmundane. Seeing that I was having difficulty following his theories, the Summoner presented me with half-a-dozen scrolls and told me to try them out when I needed them.

Thinking that I’d rather not rely on experimental magic in a pinch, I thanked him before casting Recall and returning to Tel Vos. It was rather later than I’d thought so I took a room at the Sethan Tradehouse for the night.