The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl: Power, You've Got It, I Want It! Options

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Yestere had been spent bringing some sort of order to my collection of artefacts, as well as dealing with the various issues that had arisen on my estate while I was away. Kallin wished to know if I was willing to send more miners to the Vassir-Didanat Mine since, according to the mine foreman, there were still some sizeable ebony deposits to be mined. Raissu Asserbas reported that a Yokudan blacksmith had requested permission to establish a forge on my estate, a wandering Bard had been arrested stealing from Gorven Menas and was incarcerated in the lower dungeons, and that a young lady in Hlaalu colours had approached the Tel, wondering if there was a vacancy for a cook. Raissu Asserbas also reported that the sale of the Glass from the nearby mine had accrued twelve thousand, five hundred and sixty Septims from a broker in Ebonheart on the Mainland ~ estate expenses were ten thousand, nine hundred Septims.

It’s no wonder I retired to bed early yestere and woke early this morning, I hadn’t realised that running an estate was such hard work. Raissu sympathised, reminding me that, as soon as everything was settled to my satisfaction, running of the estate would become almost invisible to me. I liked that idea. There was a reason I was keen to deal with the accumulated administrative details.

My sojourn to Mournhold had taught me a couple of valuable lessons. I am becoming extremely handy with an axe, so much so that it had become my primary weapon. There were times, as the tunnels in Old Mournhold had shown, when an axe wasn’t a viable weapon. And my sword-fighting skills, while much improved during the time since I’d stepped off the ship in Seyda Neen, were not good enough for me to use a blade efficiently as a secondary weapon. Then there was the magic. I had a small arsenal of utilitarian spells but I desperately needed some more powerful offensive spells as well as other spells that I could use at need.

I had a plan to deal with my lack of fighting prowess. I didn’t like the plan but it was the best I could come up with: I wanted Baladas to hear it before I put it into operation. I had also been asking some discrete questions about Jaron Scorchblot, the dispossessed Telvanni Llunela Hleran had spoken about. Turns out he was quite the legend and, up to eight hundred years ago, he was feared and respected by every Telvanni. I wanted to know how and why.

I translocated to Sadrith Mora and, after depositing some of my funds in my account, I water-walked across the Bay to the small rock where Jaron was currently residing. There, in a small lean-to hut, I met the oddest Telvanni I’ve ever encountered. For a start, he was Orc-Tall ~ much taller than any other Dunmer I’ve ever met. Secondly, he affected a totally bald head, which was covered in strange swirling designs. Thirdly, the Mer virtually hummed with power
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“So,” I said, “you’re Jaron Scorchblot?”

“And you,” he replied with an engaging smile, “are Sudhendra Vahl or, should I say, Sed Telvanni Vahl? Oh yes,” he said in response to my question, “I’ve heard of you and been quite impressed. Now, what brings you to my palatial abode?”

“Power,” I said simply. “You have it, I want it. Or, to put it less bluntly, I want you to teach me how to wield whatever power made your name feared and respected.”

“Ahh,” he sighed, “those were the days, the glory days. Before my… problem. Tell me Sudhendra, do you know what a Theurgist is?” I shook my head and he snickered. “Hardly surprising, there are very few of us left nowadays. A Theurgist is a Mage who manipulates certain elemental powers: very powerful forces indeed. Because of my problem I oft-times find myself bereft of funds. Although it goes against the grain somewhat, I will train you as a Theurgist for five thousand Septims.”

I nodded, handing him two thousand five hundred Septims ~ all I had on my person at that point. The rest, I told him, would be available when he had shown me what he had to teach was worth such a princely sum. “Fair enough I suppose,” he said. “I will teach you a useful spell right now, and then I want you to go and fetch me some reagents. These I will use to create a potion for myself ~ in return I’ll teach you a spell that will prove that what I have to teach is worth the money.

“Now, there is one last thing I need to know, and that is what elemental power do you wish to control?” he asked. “I have knowledge of Fire and Storm, although I can also teach you about the power of Ice or the power of the Earth.”

“Ice,” I responded after a few moment’s thought.

“Hehe, so you prefer the cold and calculating approach eh?” he chuckled. “Personally, I prefer the cleansing power of Fire. Now, I’ll need three exceptionally fine pearls for my potion ~ you should be able to find plenty in the waters hereabouts. I think fifteen should be fine ~ I’ll pick the three finest and you can keep the rest.”

“The spell?” I reminded him. “You were going to teach me a spell before sending me out to collect the reagents.”

“So I was, so I was,” he said, scratching his bald dome. “Very well, attend closely…” For the next hour, Jaron taught me how to breathe water. When we’d finished, I stood on the shore of his small island and carefully spoke the phrase he’d taught me, “Na Awyra? Ad 'u anadl ddyfrha.”

I was delighted with the result of the spell, it allowed me to stay below the water’s surface for great swatches of time without having to surface and take gulps of air. In fact, the only problem with the spell was the tendency of everything to taste as though it had been over-salted for several hours after the spell dissipated. Meanwhile, I was able to swim about underwater and collect pearls from the vast beds of Kollops that existed in Zafirbel Bay. There were a couple of nasty moments ~ a run in with a couple of Slaughter-Fish that fancied salt Dunmer for lunch and a very odd encounter with a Dreugh that swam alongside me for several minutes.

Finally, I resurfaced with a large pile of pearls and, after drying and getting dressed, I took these over to Jaron. “Hehe, these are excellent, just what I need,” he said. “Now, I will teach you the first spell on your road to becoming a Theurgist. This is a little something that’ll make your handshake something to remember.” He took me, step by step, through the technique required to create the spell and allowed me to practice it on various bits of flora so that I could perfect it. “Now,” he said once we were sure I had mastered the powerful spell, “is that worth the balance of my fee?”

It certainly was and I offered to go straight to the bank and bring him the twenty-five hundred Septims immediately. “While you’re doing that,” he said, “I recently sent a courier over to Suran. For some reason, Arin hasn’t returned. I can’t abide sloppy work so I want you to go there and tell him he’s fired. Oh,” he added as I turned to leave, “and remember to get the shoes I lent him back.”

I translocated to Balmora and got the silt-strider to Suran. Even though it was quite late by the time I arrived in the sleepy little town, I decided to have a quick look around. “Hey you,” a voice called from by the dockside. I turned and saw Elvil Vidron standing in the shadows. I tensed, but the Mer seemed genuinely pleased to see me. “I’d like to thank you Ser Vahl,” he said, stepping from the shadows to reveal a brown Temple robe, “for returning me to the ways of the True Faith. If there’s anything I can do for you?”

“Actually,” I replied, “there might be. Do you know of a Mer named Arin? I don’t know his last name I’m afraid.”

“Arin?” Elvil replied. “You mean that Telvanni courier? He’s here quite a bit ~ always stays at Desele’s.” Thanking him, I made my way into the House of Earthly Delights and, after standing at the bar for a while, managed to catch Desele’s eye.

“Don’t get many of your sort in here priest,” she laughed. I slipped back the robe’s hood and she immediately changed her tune. “Well, well. If it isn’t my mysterious benefactor. I’m guessing it’s you I have to thank for getting the Camonna Tong off my back?” I nodded. “What can I do for you? Drink on the house, bed for the night?”

“Some information,” I replied. “I’m looking for a Telvanni courier, name of Arin. I’m told he comes in here…”

“Arin Darethi?” she interrupted. “Old Jaron’s Mer?” When I confirmed that this was most probably the person I was looking for, her face went grave. “He had an accident, if you know what I mean. I’m told he fell in the Nabia River and drowned. Which is odd, ‘cause he was such a good swimmer. Look, much as I’d like to help you, I think you’d better speak to the guards about this.”

Sensing I was making her uncomfortable with this line of questioning, I inclined my head and took my leave of the Inn. Finding a guard wasn’t difficult and, like all Hlaalu everywhere, he proved amenable to the odd bit of extra cash. “Not much to tell really,” he said, pocketing the coins. “Darethi fell in the river and drowned, right over there by the docks. We’re a bit short-handed at the moment so couldn’t spare any men to drag him out. Besides, we figured it was a Telvanni matter and shouldn’t get involved.”

The Tradehouse in Suran proved to have a spare bed I could use for the night and, after a pleasant meal with the proprietor, I retired for the night. There was something odd going on here ~ I didn’t know what, but I hoped the morning light would help me find out.

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I explored the dock area of Suran this morning, looking for the body of Jaron’s courier. When I couldn’t find it, I water-walked up the Nabia River until I spotted a semi-skeletal corpse on the riverbed. Dismissing the water-walk spell, I cast the water-breathing spell Jaron had taught me yestere and allowed myself to sink to the bottom of the river. There was no doubt that the corpse was that of Arin Darethi ~ if the Telvanni sigils on his robe weren’t enough, there were the waterlogged shoes he wore. They sang with high-grade magic and, tugging them off, I took the opportunity to examine the body. Unfortunately, I could find no evidence of foul play ~ although I was puzzled how he’d got up here if he’d had his ‘accident’ down by Suran.

Surfacing, I saw that I was near a Daedric shrine. Wading ashore, I realised I was at the southernmost tip of the Molag Amur and that, according to my map; the shrine was called Bal Ur. Looking at the ancient stone towers and ruined domes made me shiver and I realised that, apart from a very brief journey into Maelkashishi, I had never explored one of these ruins fully. A lot of that was the sheer terror these places engendered in me every time I saw one. For some reason, the cyclopean buildings struck a primal chord deep within me and I had an overwhelming urge to flee. Bal Ur was no different.

Actually, it was. Determined to conquer my fear of these ancient places, I shouldered my pack and crossed the dusty ground between the huge blocks of fallen stone until I came to the inevitable oval door. Exactly matching the door at Maelkashishi, except for details of the carvings around the frame, it opened in exactly the same disconcerting manner. Taking a deep and shaky breath, I ventured inside.

The short stone corridor led into a room dominated by three things. The first of those things was the most important ~ large, reptilian shapes with snapping jaws and venomous breath. The Wish sang it’s song of dismemberment and death and the Mundus was lighter by the weight of two more Dremora. This gave me time to appreciate the remaining features that dominated this dark chamber. The first were the huge stone… objects handing from massive chains from the vaulted ceiling high over head. Big enough for me to have stood in, these strange cubes of stone seemed to serve as both censer and light-source. A mist rolled from each of the four diamond-shaped slots on the side: glowing a dim blue-white and smelling faintly of expensive unguents and spices.

The mist was lit from below by a dull, red light ~ which tainted everything in the chamber with is roseate glow. Shuffling carefully over to the massive balustrade that ringed the hole in the floor, I peered down into a vast pit of roiling lava. The exotically scented mist just about covered up the thick sulphurous stench coming from below.

There appeared to be no way down from this upper floor but the most obvious and I wasn’t quite prepared to sling myself off the edge and hope that there was nothing down there that was… inimical. Besides, I could see movement down there but the rising fumes and the curling mist made it well nigh impossible to discern what was making the movement. I stood there a while, drinking in the atmosphere until I could stand it no longer. At a brisk pace, I left that accursed place and made my way outside. I assume that there was a method of reaching the lower floor that didn’t involve throwing yourself off a high ledge over a vat of boiling rock but, frankly, I was not interested in seeking it out. Even though I had barely ventured into the shrine. They were sites of ancient power and often infested with insane cultists, or worse, but I no longer feared them as much as I had. And the rewards, I reflected as I tucked the apprentice scroll into my pack, were often worth the risk. Opening the way back to Jaron’s island, I returned to give him the news.

“Dead eh?” Jaron said, clearly distressed. “That’s… annoying. Especially since you think the accident wasn’t accidental. Are you sure there were no clues as to who killed Arin?” I confirmed that I’d found nothing. “I may have to investigate that situation myself, although I do have a suspicion as to the name of the person responsible. Now, I have another task for you.

“There is a woman I was once enamoured of, name of Neela Angletoe,” he told me. “She is a dancer at Desele’s and has a locket I want returned. And I’d like you to get the locket for me.”

“What?” he asked, looking puzzled when I offered him the shoes I’d recovered. “Oh those, you might as well keep them for yourself. Hehe, they might come in handy.”

Since Suran seemed to be becoming a focal point and I wanted to avoid travelling through Balmora more than I absolutely had to, I translocated to Ald’ruhn and purchased a Void-Walk spell for the Hlaalu township. Standing in Ald’ruhn’s dusty main square, I spoke the cantrip, “Ex hic absum, ut Suran”

“Neela, yeah I remember her,” the stocky Hlaalu guard said when I asked him about the dancer. “Had a fling with some old geezer a couple of years back. Kind of easy on the eyes, if you know what I mean.” With a laugh, he nudged his companion with his arm. “A nod’s as good as a wink to a blind Alit. Anyway, she worked over at Earthly Delights but I ain’t seen her for, ohhhh, couple of months now.”

Helviane Desele seemed quite amused to see me back so soon, making a sotto voice comment to one of the patrons that made him splutter in his Matze. “Help you?” she asked.

“I’m looking for one of your dancers,” I told her. Ignoring the arched eyebrow and the wicked expression on her face, I pressed on, “her name’s Neela Angletoe. An old… flame asked me to get in touch with her on his behalf.”

“Well, she doesn’t work here any more young Mer,” she said. “Decided she’d had enough of the lifestyle and took herself off to Caldera I think it was. Said she was looking for ‘honest’ work.” Thanking Desele, I returned to Balmora and struck out on the road to Caldera. I asked several of the Imperials around the town, but all I got were variations on “Never heard of her”.

I sat in Shenk’s Shovel and pondered the problem over a light meal. Perhaps, I thought, if she lives here she has a job here. I visited each of the stores in Caldera (the only other option being to go around knocking on every door in the hope that she’d answer). Finally, I struck lucky in the local clothier’s store.

“Yes, I’m Neela Angletoe,” the tall Dunmer woman said. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m here on behalf of Jaron Scorchblot,” I explained. “He’s sent me to retrieve a locket. It seems that it’s quite important to him.”

“Oh,” she said in a small voice, her face crumpling as tears sprang to her eyes. “It’s… it’s very precious to me,” she said, her voice breaking. “Although Jaron and I parted acrimoniously, we did have some great times. And the locket is all I have to remember those times…”

“Shhh,” I soothed, “don’t worry. If the locket means that much to you, I’ll tell Jaron that you didn’t want to part with it.” She gave me a small smile, wiping her cheeks. I turned to Falanaamo, the shopkeeper, “and can I get a glass of water for Neela?”

“Uh, oh, yeah, of course,” he said, startled out of his reverie. While he went into the back to get some water for the Dunmer woman, I took the opportunity to have a look around his shop. He had a large number of garments, mostly western in cut and style ~ although made from local materials. In one corner of the shop was a dress, fashioned in the Breton style ~ all long sleeves and flowing lines. It was the material that caught my eye, a deep and glittering black fabric I’d never seen before.

“Impressive, no?” Falanaamo said from just behind me. “Finest quality fabric and one of my better designs, even if I do say so myself. Are you interested?”

I was, and we dickered on the price for a while before settling on two hundred and ten Septims. Delighted with my purchase, I took my leave of the shop.