Rashelle And The Mad God, Tribunal fanfic Options

[blockhead]

This contains spoilers for the Tribunal expansion. I imagine this is no longer a concern since the expansion has been out for so long but I thought it would be prudent to mention it here anyway.

Unlike "Rashelle At Lokken", this one is an in-progress work, actually being written now. As a consequence the updates won't be nearly so often.

This story occurs before the events in "Rashelle At Lokken".

--
Rashelle And The Mad God
by blockhead aka pcc

Chapter 1. Dark Brotherhood


I knew it was not going to be a good day. Firstly, it was that time of the month for me and that is never a good time. Secondly, I was rudely awakened by someone who was trying to murder me in my bed.

His glass dagger had just rebounded off of my ebony cuirass. People think I'm nuts when I tell them I sleep in my armor. Situations like this are why I do.

An elbow in his face backed him off a foot or so and gave me time to give him a stiff kick in the usual place. It sent him flying away from the bed but apparently that strange black armor that he wore protected him there because he came right back at me.

I ran him through with Chrysamere. People think I'm nuts because I sleep with a naked claymore. Situations like this are why I do.

I got out of bed and searched the body. No keys. Some gold. No letters or other information. I examined the strange black armor. It was rather nice. I had never seen its like before, very light and flexible, yet tough. The deep blackness of it would certainly help any night-time stealthy activities. It was probably expensive as well.

If it were not for the fact that I don't like my sleep to be interrupted, I would welcome more attacks just for more of this armor.

I removed my boots and I tried the greaves on. They were especially nice. They went well with my Ebony cuirass yet were not hot like most armor is. Of late I had not been wearing any armor save for a cuirass and boots: Vvardenfell was just too hot to wear full armor. I was never cold; only warm or hot. I'm a Breton but there must have been Nord in my ancestry somehow.

I left the greaves on. I put my ebony boots back on. I went to the trap door and poked my head out. It was still dark out but I was too keyed up to go back to sleep.

I closed trap door and got myself ready to go.

Taking the helm and the body, I left my house.

A Hlallu guard approached me immediately. After playing 20 questions he eventually realized that I had been attacked, had lawfully defended myself and was only trying to dispose of the body.

"Couldn't you have waited until you left town before stripping it?"

"It's not every day I get attacked in my own bed. I was not aware there was a protocol involved."

Showing him the helm, I said; "By the way, you wouldn't happen to know who wears armor like this and likes to murder Bretons in their bed, would you?"

He informed me that the helm was that of the Dark Brotherhood. They were assassins. Apparently someone had put a contract out on me. Unlike the Morag Tong, the dark brotherhood would take any contract. They will kill anyone if the drakes were good: legality was not a concern.

He told me that Apelles Matius over in Ebonheart might know more about them. I thanked him and he retreated at speed: as if the dark brotherhood would slay him just for talking to me.

Not a great start to my day. I dumped the body just south of town and then went to the Mages Guild.

"Greetings, Rashelle, what brings you here at this odd hour?", said the Sharn Gra-Muzgob, who was manning the entrance as Greeter this shift.

"Hey Sharn. Nothing much: just a Dark Brotherhood assassin trying to murder me in my sleep."

"That's terrible - you killed him I trust?"

"Yes indeed."

"I trust you disposed of the body?"

"Yes; just now I dragged it south of town."

"Just now you did?"

"Yep."

She turned from me and summoned Galbedir, asking her to cover for her for "a few minutes". Then she scurried outside as fast she could.

Galbedir and I laughed: we both knew she was a necromancer.

I went downstairs and had them teleport me to Vivec. Once there, a cast of Divine intervention teleported me to the Imperial Cult chapel in Ebonheart. From there, it was a short walk to find Apelles Matius.

He initially seemed to doubt me but I showed him the helm and then he remembered that I was the Nerevarine and had some skill in matters pertaining to combat.

He revealed two interesting bits if information. First; the Dark Brotherhood headquarters was somewhere on the mainland, in the city of Mournhold. Secondly, despite the quarantine still in place around Vvardenfell from the Blight, a recently arrived Imperial Mage named Asciene Rane could teleport me there.

He led me to her and, after introductions, explained the situation to her. I thanked him and he left. She then teleported me to Mournhold.

I appeared in a blue room. There were flowers in the room; how did they grow indoors without sunlight? I turned and found myself face to face with an Argonian in expensive robes.

He sniffed and said "fresh game."

he continued. "Greetings, I am Effe Tei. I can teleport you to Ebonheart. You are in the Palace now, in the reception area."

"Thank you, I am Rashelle."

Effe Tei briefly explained the layout of Mournhold. The city was a circle, with the Palace in the center. The remainder of the circle was divided into four sections. The temple was to the south, the plaza Brindisi Dorom to the north. West and East were the Great Bazaar and the Godsreach areas.

Effe informed me that the city was actually built on top of the ruins of the the older city, some of which were accessible underground.

The goddess Amalexia resided in this city, as did the dunmer King Helseth.

In an alarmed tone he asked me; "Are you wearing greaves of the Dark Brotherhood?"

Perhaps wearing the armor of the Dark Brotherhood had been a bad idea.

"These? Oh no; don't be silly! These are padded Capri pants. They are all the rage over on Tel Aruhn. When I wear boots they are more comfortable. When I don't wear boots they let a lot of calf show."

I chatted briefly with a royal guard. His closed helm and closed mannerisms made conversation difficult and brief.

I decided to wander around the castle before going outside. I took the open doorway out of the room and soon found myself with a choice, stairs down or up. Thinking of dungeons, my natural instinct was to choose the down stairwell.

This resulted in my arrival at the Royal Palace basement.

Oddly enough, there were no guards here. I poked through some of the crates and other containers. I was tempted to pinch some salt rice but I refrained.

I found a trap door in the floor. Effe had said something about the Dark Brotherhood in the sewers below the Great Bazaar, not the palace, but I opened the door anyway.

I started to descend the cold slimy rungs of a ladder. I was in a large high hall. Along the center of the hall ran a channel with water in it. The air was moist and the scent wafting along it let me know that these were the sewers.

I paused, gripping the ladder, while my eyes adjusted to the darkness. There were torches here and there and some sort of undefined dim illumination. This area was as large as the Vivec canton sewers but, like everything else in Mournhold, was more ornate than its Vvardenfell counterpart.

A skeleton was running towards the ladder. With one hand I cast a fireball. Most undead are susceptible to fire so that was enough to take care of it.

I descended the rest of the way and stepped away from the latter.

To my right was a dead end. I turned left. The floor was tiled with maroon tiles that formed pretty patterns. Why waste time decorating a sewer?

A rat attacked me. I believe he hurt his teeth on my ebony boots. I simply stared down at him as if to say "who are you kidding?". He sheepishly squeaked and ran away.

Then I saw a skeleton in a hooded robe. That was new. It cast a lightning spell. My birth sign didn't handle it this time. It hurt but I was not in immediate danger so I waited. I wanted to assess the capabilities of this new creature.

The robed skeleton cast another one. And another. How much magicka did this thing have?

I was hurting now. Enough is enough. I quaffed a potion and cast a fireball. The robed skeleton hit me with a health damage spell but this time my birth sign diffused the spell and absorbed the magicka. I promptly used this to cast a larger fireball.

Robes burning, the skeleton collapsed to the ground. Pieces of bone fell into the water.

A memory from my magical studies came to me: I had just fought a lich.

I walked over and examined the lich. It was simply an animated skeleton with a robe, an iron longsword, and an iron shield. The most formidable thing about it had been the large reservoir of magicka.

I resumed walking. The sewer corridor turned to the left and entered a very large room. It was easily larger than a plaza in a Vivec canton, larger than a small village. In the center was a circle of pillars that reached all the way to the ceiling. Inside this was a deeper pool of water. Perhaps this drained into a lower level of sewers.

A goblin ran towards me. I had never encountered a goblin before but I had seen pictures of them in books.

He was a tough critter and he wielded a club that was sturdier than it looked.

As I was finishing him, a durzog attacked me. Again, I had not seen a durzog in Vvardenfell but I knew of them. Goblins often used durzogs as mounts and war beasts. Wherever you encountered one, you tended to also run into the other.

Getting tired of the water, I took an upward ramp out of that large room. This soon led me to a door labeled "Bazaar sewers". How convenient: this is where Effe said the Dark Brotherhood were located.

So I was now in the Bazaar Sewers of Old Mournhold. Ahead of me, the wide and tall passage continued and then curved left. From this came a bonewalker, already hurling Grave Curse spells at me. Another fireball finished him.

To my right was a second passage. I went right.

This passage turned left and down. At the turning was a Khajiit woman. An attempt at conversation yielded only "Ahnia does not know you, so Ahnia has nothing to say to you."

Perhaps the sewers were filled with madmen? I continued on down the passage. The ramp took me back down to the water level. Have I mentioned yet how much I hate water?

There was a ladder going up but I passed it for now. The next section of the passage was smaller and hewn from rock: no pretty tiles here.

I swam, following the passage as it turned left and down. I dove because I thought I saw something there on the bottom. I did: a skeleton who had apparently been slain by an arrow. There was a water breathing potion by the skeleton. The passage was a dead end so, swimming as rapidly as I could as I was running out of breath, I retraced my route.

I returned to the ladder, this time I ascended it.

I found myself on the surface, outdoors, somewhere in Mournhold. The morning sunlight shown on a rich array of blue architecture. Another reminder that I wasn't in Vvardenfell anymore.

While I had urgent business to attend to, regarding the Black brotherhood's misguided attempts to adjust my lifespan, I just could not resist the temptation to wander around here for a bit before returning to the depths.

Vvardenfell is a frontier. This was a city, a major center of government and commerce, and it showed. Everything had a polished and expensive look to it.

I walked around, chatting with people, even the ordinators. Ordinators are never chatty but I try to talk to them anyway. These Ordinators wore a different style of armor from the ones back in Vivec. The helm was the same but not yellow. The color was pastel violet instead. As with everything else in Mournhold, their armor was classier and snazzier than the Vvardenfell version. I was informed that I was in the Great Bazaar.

At some point I found a book store. It was with difficultly that I pulled myself out of there, a few hundred gold poorer.

I heard what sounded like a summoning spell. When one summons an atronach or other daedra, there is a certain characteristic sound. I turned towards the sound and saw two bursts of fog or smoke. The smoke fade away to be replaced by a Dunmer in a robe.

"Greetings, fair citizens of Mournhold. I am the great, renowned, respected, and feared wizard, Ovis Velas! In the coming weeks you shall see more and more of me, as I bring this city to its knees."

This didn't sound very promising. He had the attention of the people around me. I hoped this was some sort of advertisement for a sporting event but I didn't think so. I had a fireball ready and I placed a hand on my head, casually, as if patting my hair into place ... near the hilt of the sheathed sword at my back.

"But for the moment, " he continued, "allow me to demonstrate my power on one of your hapless countrymen."

He looked right at me. Figures. Always pick on the Breton with the black hair and the armor.

"You there! Yes, you, you ugly Breton, Prepare yourself to feel my wrath!"

He hit me with a fireball. I could have dodged it but I didn't want it to hurt anyone in the crowd so I just took it. My birth-sign didn't absorb the spell this time.

Already running towards him, I let fly my own fireball and drew my sword.

He hit me with a cold spell: standard technique: fatigue the target by alternating fire and frost. My birth-sign didn't absorb this spell either but I have always had this unusual Nord-like affinity to cold: the spell was a refreshing cool breeze.

I reached him and swung. He moved partially out of the way but he was not moving very fast so Chrysamere still bit.

He stumbled but still hit me with a nasty shock-bolt. This time my birth-sign absorbed and diffused the spell.

Enough: I stabbed him right through the heart. He had no armor under the robe.

As I kicked the corpse from my sword I mused that any chance of the Dark Brotherhood not being aware of me here on their home turf had just gone to zero.

I cast a healing spell on myself.

The hubbub of the crowd that had formed was cut through by an Ordinator rasping, "Nothing to see here, move along."

I walked away. I had lawfully defended myself so the Ordinators gave me no trouble.

A dunmer who introduced himself as Drathhas Reyes said to me "For all of his talk, you didn't seem to have much trouble dealing with him. Seems strange he was so weak."

He had a point there.

"You know, there is a Velas manor in Godsreach. Perhaps checking it out would shed some needed light on this mystery."

Yeah whatever, but I didn't say that. I nodded and walked on.

Back to the sewers: I now had to find the Dark Brotherhood before they found me. I descended, stepped off the ladder. I killed a rat and passed by the unfriendly Khajiit woman again.




EDIT: went a little too Conan (and not even good original Howard Conan, but Marvel-style Conan) for the next bit so I've taken it out for more editing. Also minor word usage & "flow" edits


This post has been edited by blockhead: Apr 11 2007, 02:17 AM

[blockhead]

Chapter 9. Pieces Of The Blade




I did not want to return to Almalexia. However, I am honorable: when I promise to do something, I do it. An implicit component of this task was that I would inform her of its completion.

With a heavy heart, I entered Almalexia's chamber. I looked up at her and said; "He's dead."

"Rashelle, it saddens me greatly to hear this ... but you you did what was necessary. He was mad. He would have hurt innocent people. To view the splendor of a god may drive even the strongest mortal mad."

I looked down at the floor.

"But you are not just a mortal," she said, "You are the Nerevarine, reborn."

I looked up at her questioningly.

"Nerevar, do you remember you were once my ... husband?"

She reached out and stroked my cheek. I froze in astonishment.

"Mmmmm, I think I prefer you as a woman."

She brushed a finger along my jawline and then withdrew her hand.

"Nerevar reborn, you are to rule at my side. Together again, we shall rule Morrowind and lead our people. We shall free Morrowind from the Imperial yoke. First you must recover your blade. Recall the two magical ever-burning swords Trueflame and Hopesfire, created for us by the Dwemer smith Dumac? Hopesfire I still have in my possession. Trueflame was lost at Red mountain but I sense that the pieces of it are now here in Mournhold. Seek them out and re-forge the blade. Then you shall ascend to my side."

She held out a piece of metal. Mutely, I took it.

"That is one piece of the blade that has come into my possession. Seek the others. Find a craftsman here in Mournhold to forge the pieces of the blade. Come back to me when Trueflame is whole and burns again."

Numbly, I nodded. I turned and staggered away.

I stumbled into the temple reception area. From a great distance I heard Fedris Hler say "Rashelle, are you all right?".

I saw the floor leap at me and I knew no more.



I woke in another blue room. The Dunmer woman leaning over me informed me that I was in the temple infirmary.

"Sera, you collapsed after leaving Almalexia's chamber."

Oh yeah.

I had had enough. I wasn't going to be the next Salas Valor. Things had gotten out of control. It was too much for me. I wanted it all to go away. I sat up groggily.

Nothing was keeping me in Mournhold, so I would return to Vvardenfell. The Dwemer coherer would eventually run out and the ash storms would stop. The mortal Almalexia could rot in her temple all by herself for all I cared.

"Clear the way!" shouted a voice.

I turned my head to see two temple acolytes bearing a litter with an older Dunmar on it. He was making choking noises and his eyes were rolling. The veins stood out in his neck.

The woman who had been attending to me turned and ran towards the choking Mer. She cast a spell just as he became silent. A growing horror stole over me as I watched them try to revive him. He was dead.

"What happened?" I asked ... but I already knew,

"It's the ash storms. People are not used to them here like they are in Vvardenfell. He suffocated."

That was a horrible way to die.

I had caused this to happen when I had activated the weather machine.

I could not leave now. I had to stop the ash storms. I stood up. I was wobbly, but it would have to do.

"Sera, you are suffering from exhaustion! You must rest."

"Not going to happen," I said as I fetched a Restore Fatigue potion from my pack.

I gulped it down.

"I've got urgent things to do." I said. "You have no idea. I cannot stay."

"I can tell you have been burning the candle at both ends. your body needs rest."

"It's burn or be snuffed out," I said as I replaced the sheathed Chrysamere on my back.

"You adventurers are all alike."

I put on my pack, wedged Karrod's blade in place, and left.



"Rashelle," said Almalexia sternly, "you cannot already have the blade in this short time. Why are you here?"

"A mer in the temple infirmary has just died from the ash storm. The storms are killing people. We have to stop the weather machine."

"No Rashelle. The people need to understand the consequences of doubting my powers. The ash storms will remain."

"Almalexia, please. You would kill your own people?"

"Rashelle," she hissed loudly, "Do not question me! I am a goddess. Do not come back until you have found and re-forged Trueflame."

"Who cares about some stupid Dwemer flamey sword," I shouted, "You're killing people!"

I was caught completely by surprise when her hand lashed out.

I picked myself off of the floor, wiping blood from my lip, utterly astounded. Hitting me was the last thing I had expected her to do.

"Do not come back until you have Trueflame."

I left.



Through the swirling ashes I made my way to the Plaza. Once again I entered the Dwemer city of Bamz-Amschend. I retraced my previous route through the twisty corridors, occasionally fighting whatever animunculi I had missed the last time through.

I heard the sound of water: I was nearing my destination. This farce would end now: I was going to turn off the weather machine and smash the coherer. The ash storms would stop.

The corridor turned and descended. Once again I was in the ankle deep water ... though it was a few inches deeper now.

I stopped.

A glowing wall of light blocked the corridor. It resembled the Ghostfence as it had been before the death of Dagoth Ur. I stepped up to it and put a hand out. I could not push my hand through. I stepped back, drew Chrysamere, and took a swing. Silently the sword rebounded from the wall.

This was Almalexia's doing. She had somehow blocked access to the weather machine. The ash storms would not be stopped.

"You ... S'WIT!"

I turned away and began to walk.

I entered the wider section of corridor with the tables and the benches. I sat down to collect my thoughts. I would now have to do this her way. I would have to somehow find the pieces of a Dwemer flaming sword that had been lost a thousand years ago.

From my pack I took the one piece which Almalexia had given me. I set it on the table and looked at it for a time. It had the quality of Dwemer metal, yet was not golden colored. Then I reached back and pulled Karrod's blade from where I had wedged it.

I put it next to the piece from Almalexia. They were of the same metal. Did I imagine a spark fly between them?

I hadn't asked for a miracle, yet I had just received one: I had two pieces of the blade.

I stowed the two pieces and cast Almsivi intervention.

The other day I had bought some armor repair tools from the two smiths in the Craftsman's Hall in Godsreach. Through the ash storms I walked there.

The Dunmer, Bols Indalen, was going on about some custom armor or something. Yagak Gro-gluk's eyes lit up when he saw Karrod's blade so I focused my attention on him.

"I need to have an old Dwemer blade remade. These are two of the pieces. Can you do that?"

"Let me see."

I handed him the pieces. He examined them, turning them this way and that.

"Hmmm."

I waited. He turned each piece over again.

"I can do this, but I can tell that this is not all of it. You may not need all of the original pieces, but you need more than what you have here."

He handed them back to me.

"Yagak, I have heard that there are more pieces somewhere in Mournhold right now. Do you know how I could go about finding them?"

"Well, there is always the Museum Of Artifacts here in Godsreach. I expect they would be knowledgeable about old Dwemer weaponry and they might even have a piece from this sword."

I nodded.

"Plitinius Mero the writer may know something. He's usually at the palace."

I remembered that Barenziah had mentioned him.

Since the Museum was closer, I went there.

I entered. The place seemed rather sparse for a museum. Perhaps the artifacts were away to be cleaned. There was a Dunmer woman standing not far from the door. Her eyes lit up and she said "Ooooo, is that Chrysamere?"

"Such a pleasure to meet you," I said. "What was your name again?"

"Oh, yes, err, pardon me sera. I lost my manners in the excitement."

Her eyes rested on a spot a few inches to the side of my head, where Chrysamere's hilt was. She licked her lips. I put a hand on my sword ... protectively.

"I am Torasa Aram, curator. Welcome to the Mournhold Museum Of Artifacts."

That was more like it.

"I'm Rashelle."

I showed the two pieces to her.

"These are two pieces from the ancient Dwemer sword Trueflame. I am looking for the rest of it. Might you have knowledge of this?"

She took one of them and examined it. She turned it over and over in her hands ... was she caressing it?

"Mmmmmm: such an interesting metal."

"Indeed," I said impatiently, "Have you seen its like?"

"It would make such a beautiful sword, it would ... so very beautiful."

"That is my attention, sera," I said as I gently but firmly retrieved the piece from her hands, "but I need to find the remaining pieces in order to accomplish that. Can you help me?"

"Well, I err," she paused to clear her throat. "That is, I may have something in the storeroom with this particular metal. Please wait here."

I nodded and she hurried away.

As I waited I idly wandered around the room. I nodded to the ordinators there. The contents of my Balmora house would probably make Torasa's head spin.

She returned bearing a Dwemer shield.

I raised an eyebrow.

"Sera, it is not just a regular shield: note the spike here."

She was right. From the center of the shield jutted a spike which could be used both to turn incoming blades and as an offensive weapon in its own right. While the shield was the usual golden Dwemer metal, the spike had the Dwemer yet silverly appearance of the two pieces already in my possession.

"I cannot give this to you," she said.

I drew Gaenor's ebony longsword, which I had been wearing sheathed at my side.

The ordinators drew their scimitars.

I held the sword by the blade, holding the hilt towards Torasa. The ordinators sheathed their weapons.

"I can trade you this ebony longsword for it."

She shook her head, "while that is a fine blade ... yes indeed ... very fine ... it is not a unique Artifact. It would be of no use in our collection."

I sighed and sheathed it.

"Sera, what will you accept for that shield?"

"I think if you were to donate two unique items to the museum, I could perhaps part with it."

She recited a list of several famous artifacts that the museum desired. Chrysamere was included in that list, naturally.

"I shall be back, sera. By your leave I will teleport out."

"Oh yes, go ahead. I'll be here."

I Recalled to my house in Balmora. Musing that it was a good thing that I was a bit of a pack rat, I found two of the artifacts that she had mentioned. I wanted to stop further deaths from the ash storms so, had push come to shove, I would have donated Chrysamere. I was glad that I did not have to.

Upon my return to the Museum I presented her with the Boots Of Blinding Speed and the Spellbreaker Shield.

She cooed.

"Thank you Rashelle, these are indeed artifacts of interest."

"May I have the shield now, please?"

"Oh certainly, here it is."

She gave me the shield.

"Thank you, sera."



I returned to the Craftsman's hall. I handed the three pieces to Yagak.

"Yes, Rashelle, I think this this all of it. I can re-forge the blade now. It will be as good as new, if not better."

"thank you sera."

"It should take a week."

"Yagak, it is vitally important that this blade be re-forged as soon as possible. Lives are depending on it."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I ... I cannot explain. But is vital. You have to believe me. I will give you this ebony sword now as payment and I can get more gold later if you want it. I can assist you as you work to make things go faster. I'll even work the bellows and go and bring you food. Tell me what to do."

He agreed. We worked like madmen, he from the thrill of the challenge and me from desperation. I have a vague memory of Bols turning to an Imperial man and saying "why can't you work like that?"

Bols closed the shop and left for the day but the Orc and I continued.

Thirty hours later we had Trueflame repaired.

"Truly a blade worthy of Dumac himself," said the Orc as he grinned. "There is no flame, Rashelle. The secret of that was lost with the Dwemer. I cannot do any more than this."

I thanked him. I hoped Almalexia would accept the blade in its non-flaming state.

"You are strong for a little Breton but you need to get some sleep," Yagak said.

I rubbed my eyes and said softly, "I can't."

I was very tired and I was covered with soot and sweat from working with the smith and I'm sure I smelled foul but I did not waste time: I cast Almsivi Intervention and walked into the Temple. I went directly to Almalexia's chamber.

"Yes Rashelle, that is the blade, almost as it was. You have done well, so far."

Uh oh.

"The sword is nearly restored to its former glory: you need only to add the fire to make Trueflame complete."

Damnit.

"Almalexia," I said as calmly as I could, "How can I get the flame back when the secret has been lost since the disappearance of the Dwemer?"

"You will find a way, Nerevarine."

"Could you ... could you please stop the ash storms while I look into this?"

She raised her hand. I expected her to hit me again. She instead began to caress my cheek again. I guess the soot did not bother her.

"Soon, Neverar," she breathed, "... but not yet. I am punishing my people for their lapse of faith. It is for their own good."

I thought about killing her. With five Hands there, I could not. Also, there was no guarantee that the magical barrier to the weather machine would not still remain after her death.

"Now go: make Trueflame burn again, and then come back and ascend to my side."

I nodded, turned and stepped out to the Temple reception area.

"I keep this temple clean sera. Mind you keep it that way." said that woman who I always saw cleaning there. I believe she was called Granny Varis. I silenced her with my gaze.