Rashelle And The Mad God, Tribunal fanfic Options

[jack cloudy]

I like how you built up Sasal through the conversations he had with Rashelle. It makes his end that more gripping.

[blockhead]

Blockie!!! I'm away for a couple of days and what do I find? Three updates ! You post like a ravishing maniac!!

Aww shucks.

Lovely updates they are anyway...Rash is a strong woman, yet able to show feeliings, I like that!

I also like that.

Hmm I was hoping she would have managed to solve the thing with Salas in a nicer way!

That was my exact feeling when I first played this part of the Tribunal main quest. In the game, there is no way to save him. This upset me at the time and still bothers me now.

She deserves some love or at least some soft feelings . A relationship with someone mmmmm, that would be good for her, so her heart doesn't turn into stone...

Yes she is more than deserving. She does eventually find love, but not in this story.

Great story Blockie....great story

Thank you.

This post has been edited by blockhead: May 9 2007, 02:04 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.

[The Metal Mallet]

Rashelle's frustration is purely evident now. Almalexia has started to get to her. I also enjoyed how the death of that eldery Dunmer caused Rashelle to stick around rather then run away. Made her realise she had to stop this.

I just have one comment, which I probably should've mentioned earlier. Were the Dwemer Explosive Charges ever used? Because aren't they necessary to gain access to the weather machine and the oil which turns up later? Just curious. It's a minor detail but nitpickers (which I guess is me this time ) might pick up on that stuff.

Keep up the excellent work though, blockhead!

[blockhead]

Rashelle's frustration is purely evident now. Almalexia has started to get to her. I also enjoyed how the death of that eldery Dunmer caused Rashelle to stick around rather then run away. Made her realise she had to stop this.

"started to get to her" - lol. you are the master of understatement

I had to add that in. In the game, you have your character stay because you want to do all of the quests. In a story, that is not a plausible motivation.

I just have one comment, which I probably should've mentioned earlier. Were the Dwemer Explosive Charges ever used? Because aren't they necessary to gain access to the weather machine and the oil which turns up later? Just curious. It's a minor detail but nitpickers (which I guess is me this time ) might pick up on that stuff.

Keep up the excellent work though, blockhead!

short answer: I meant to do that. In my story, there are no blocked passages. I dropped that part.

long answer: In the game, the satchel charges serve the following functions:

• Dude, look, I can script!
• Hey, let's blow stuff up!
• animated eye candy
• Hey, let's add puzzles to the game, yeah, that's the ticket.

When I played Tribunal the first time I said to myself: "There is no way someone raised in the Morrowind Universe is going to be able to ever figure out what a 'satchel charge' is and how to use it correctly. You've got to be a 19th - 21st century Terran. They will blow themselves up if they actually stumble onto how to use it." It just struck me as a glaring and unnecessary continuity flaw in the game itself.

I certainly did not want to carry a flaw over into my story. The sachel charge adds nothing to the plot: it simply adds a half hour of play-time. In Rashelle's universe, the passages were never blocked.

[jack cloudy]

Hmm, a Dwemer might know. What with steam engines and all, gunpowder isn't that much of a stretch. But the Dwemer are gone so yeah, it won't work. Alchemists might know but if they did, there definitely would be exploding potions available on the market.

And Rashelle has realized that not all of the Tribunal can be trusted. I'll eagerly read this to its conclusions. Keep swinging that sword and keep drinking those potions.

[The Metal Mallet]

Yea, I understand your reasoning behind excluding the satchel charges. You're off the hook.

[blockhead]

Chapter 10. Fire



"Perhaps you should ask a Dwemer." said Plitinius Mero.

I was in the Palace Reception Area with Plitinius, who was in here because the ash storms made the courtyard an uncomfortable place to linger.

"Hah ha. Very funny. It is to laugh," I said bitterly.

My conversation with this man had not been going well. He was rather full of himself and clearly disapproved of me. I was fast losing my patience.

"Look you Imperial fetcher," I shouted, "One person already has died from these ash storms and I need to stop them and the only way to stop them is to get this stupid sword flaming again!"

"Rashelle, I fail to see the connection. Are you well? You look like you have gone too long without sleep."

He sniffed and took a step back. The unspoken statement was that I smelled and was mad. The first part was certainly true.

"Now Rashelle," he said as if to a child, "I was serious about finding a Dwemer. There are Dwemer ghosts in the ruins. Perhaps you could talk to one?"

"They always attack. You should know that if you really know as much as Barenziah claims you do."

"Hmmpf!" he said, "They only attack because you have a threatening presence. You must sheath your weapon and stop being so aggressive."

It was a stupid idea, coming from a fetcher who had never seen a dungeon, but I could think of nothing better.

"Thank you," I said without sincerity.

I made my way to the plaza and then once again down into Bamz-Amschend.

There were sometimes ghosts of the Dwemer in these ruins. Maybe I could do as Plitinius said find one who would not attack and who would also just happen to speak Tamrielic.

And Maybe I could flap my arms and fly ... although ... I *could* levitate, which I supposed ruined the analogy.

A more practical plan would be to maybe find some Dwemer books that would explain how to imbue a sword with constant flame again. Of course, I'd have to get a book that contained only pictures.

Maybe that wasn't so practical after all.

I was clutching at straws and I knew it. Anyone with common sense would have just left Mournhold. There was no way to undo the damage I had done and there was no way I could stop the ash storms.

The ash storms had been blowing for some days now. By now people had adapted, either by learning the breathing patterns necessary, or by simply wearing a veil. At this point I expected no further deaths, so stopping the ash storms was no longer an urgent matter. I could leave. I could not bring back the dead.

Maybe I was just too stubborn for my own good. The sword would have flame!

As I wondered through the ruins of Bamz-Amschend I kept an eye out for any books.

I found one that seemed to deal with the maintenance of ... pipes? As I could only look at the pictures, it was not very informative. I sighed and replaced it on the table where I had found it.

I found another book on a shelf. I opened it ... to be faced with pages of solid text. There were no diagrams at all. I had no idea what the book was even about. No one could read Dwemeri ... save for one person who lived under Tel Fyr. I took the book.

Some more searching found another book. From the pictures it appeared to deal with ... fire safety. I shrugged and took that as well. I was looking for fire, after all, sort of.

I knew that these books would be useless. It would be better if I could just find a Dwemer.

I rounded a corner and saw ... the ghost of a Dwemer. Making no attempt to be stealthy, I strode towards him: my sword remained sheathed.

"Who disturbs Radac?"

"Me."

"I see."

He pointed and continued; "Go back to the surface. You go that way."

"That's very kind of you to give me directions, but I am not yet ready to do that. I am looking for a Dwemer savant."

The ghost laughed.

"I'm no savant, just Radac the smith."

Perfect!

"I have an old Dwemer sword and I need to make it have flames on the blade."

"So engrave some on?"

"No, no: I mean actual flames that come from the blade, all the time."

"Oh, a creffinol."

"Pardon?"

"It's a word that doesn't translate into Tamrielic: pay no heed. Let me see the sword."

I reached back and pulled out Trueflame. I held it out to the ghost, hilt first. Surprisingly enough, he was able to grab it. I was rewarded with the unnerving sight of a half transparent ghost holding a solid opaque object.

"Yes, I can tell it has just been re-forged ... nice job: whoever did it should have been a Dwemer. Anyway, all I need to do is apply some pyroil tar on it and you will have an ever-flaming blade."

"Please tell me that there is some on the shelf behind you."

He laughed. "Nope. The only thing there is some old lubricating oil which by now has probably gone bad."

"Feh."

He handed the sword back to me.

"There may be some bottles of it deep in the old ruins under the city"

Further ruins below these ruins? How strange.

"Some foolish Dwemer actually worshiped the Daedra. Idiots. Should have wiped them all out when we had a chance. But no, the council said we have to give them freedom of expression. They said we had to have religious tolerance. Bah!"

"And the point is?"

"Those Daedra worshipers were the sort who liked to put silly effects like flame on their weapons. Down there in the Daedric caves of Norenen-Dir you would most likely still find some pyroil tar."

He explained what the bottles would most likely look like and also described the smell and appearance of the tar itself. I nodded, thanked him, and was on my way.

A ruin below a ruin, what a marvel. Perhaps there were more under it? Maybe the world was nothing but old cities on top of older cities in turn over still older cities... all the way down?

I shook my head: focus, Rashelle. I needed to stop the ash storms to somewhat atone: idle woolgathering would not help

I reached further areas to Bamz-Amschend that I had not previously explored. I fought the various Dwemer animunculi there and continued. I found no pyroil tar but did not expect to.

Eventually I found what I was looking for: a downward leading cave passage. This lead to a system of caverns with Daedric constructions in them. I fought many Daedra and a small number of undead.

At one point I entered into a huge cave. Like the Old Mournhold Battlefield, it was so large it almost seemed as if I were outdoors. I looked down at the many Daedric towers, all lit up with many braziers and candles like a city of lights, and I was awed by its alien beauty.

This awe lasted ten seconds and then the first lightning bolt from a storm atronach flew past me.

Sighing, I got down to business.

There were several large caves like this, each with much Daedric construction, each fascinating and beautiful in its own way, each filled with the usual dangers.

Down this deep, the water was clean. I availed myself of this discovery to to wash the worst of the soot and the stink off. The water was so nice and cold.

I was levitating down though a vertical series of caves. I was enchanted by the spectacle of a series of waterfalls that cascaded in steps down from one cave into the next. It was there that I finally found a bottle of pyroil tar.

It had been difficult to enter this section of cave: without levitation it would have been impossible. This would therefore be a safe spot to rest, provided one did not toss and turn. So, precariously curled up on a narrow ledge near one of the waterfalls, I dropped into a deep and much-needed sleep.



I made my way back to Radac the Dwemer ghost.

"Oh, you again. Do you have the pyroil tar?"

I crouched down and put the bottle on the floor: I was afraid if I handed it to him one of us would drop it and I did not want to make a second trip.

He picked it up and gestured brusquely to me. I handed him Trueflame.

He moved quickly and did something that I could not clearly see and ... the sword burned. Fire ran along the entire length of the blade.

He handed it to me.

"Wow."

"There you go, a silly fiery blade. Bah: a simple straight edge of good plain metal is all you need."

"Thank you."

"Go on then."

A thought occurred to me.

"Sera, what happened to the Dwemer?"

"Go on, leave. Put one foot down then the other. Repeat. Leave!"

I sighed and cast Almsivi Intervention.

I had no sheath for the blade and I did not want the flame to burn my pack to I had to walk with the sword in my hand.

In the Temple Reception area, two ordinators interposed themselves in front of me.

"Please let me pass. I have no sheath for this sword and I cannot hold it by the blade. Almalexia wants this weapon."

Fedris gestured. they stepped aside.

"Thank you."

Once again, I entered Almalexia's chamber.

"The blade burns again," she said. "It is as it was a thousand years ago. Nerevarine, you have done well. let me see."

I nodded and she took the sword from my hand.

She motioned for me to step back. I did so and then she took a few swings in the air with the blade. Trails of fire were formed by each swing. It was rather impressive, actually.

"Now about the ash storms ... "

"Rashelle, as much as I would like to, it is not yet time to stop them. I will stop them soon, though. I promise this."

I nodded. What else could I do?

"In fact, there is only one task left for you to do, and then I will stop the ash storms and you will be at my side, as it was before."

I waited.

"My old friend Sotha Sill has gone mad. Too long has he been in retreat in his clockwork city."

This sounded familiar ... she had said almost the same thing about Salas ... yet the germ of an idea was in my head. Maybe this was a way for me to fix matters.

I knew that Sotha Sil was the third member of the Tribunal. He was the third "living" god. Unlike Almalexia and Vivec, he had an interest in clockwork machinery. Vivec once told me that Sotha alone of the Tribunal probably did not even notice when the Heart was destroyed because he relied so little upon his acquired godlike powers. He relied instead on a thousand years of invention and construction of ... machinery.

"The creatures that attacked the Plaza were his creations," continued Almalexia. "Why he sent them to attack I do not know."

I waited.

"He reshapes his world to his own liking and lurks amongst his machine-things. I would like you to go to the clockwork city and try to speak with my old friend. If he is indeed mad, you must slay him to protect the people."

She handed the sword back to me. The Hands seemed closer to me than they had been before.

"This sword will enable you to kill a weakened god such as Sotha Sil."

I nodded. My brain was whirring with a plan. I did not believe for a second that Sotha Sil was mad. I did not believe that he was behind the attack on the Plaza. I would seek Sotha Sil indeed, but not for the reason that Almalexia wanted, no sera. He would help me stop the ash storms, and he would help me with Almalexia.

[The Metal Mallet]

Oh, my own foreknowledge makes this update so interesting. I'm glad to see that Rashelle is easily seeing through Almalexia's plan. I eagerly can't wait to see how she reacts to the Clockwork City.

Onward!

[jack cloudy]

Plans against plans. Ah, I love such conflicting goals in stories. One plans to oppose the plans of the other, the other adapts his/her plans in return and the cycle continues.

[minque]

Ahaha.....so that´s it? just put some weird chemical substance and the sword is covered in flames. But when the tar is consumed? then it would be covered in ash.....hmmmm. Those dwemers weren´t such good chemists I reckon.

Rashelle however is getting more and more sweet....I like her interactions with others...such as dwemer ghosts! Keep it coming Blockie.....Me likes very much!

[blockhead]

Chapter 11. The Mad God



"Now you must go to the Clockwork City and take care of the mad Sotha Sil. Are you ready?"

I nodded.

She gestured and I was elsewhere.

I was in the dark, ankle-deep in water. My ears were assailed by loud deep rumbling and grinding sounds. What place was this? Certainly not a city, unless I were in the sewers. The flaming sword in my hand did not provide as much light as one would have expected.

I dropped Trueflame into the water. Without a means to sheath it or carry it in my pack safely, the blade was more a liability than an asset. I had no further use for it now that I was here.

Though in water, Trueflame still burned.

I waited while my eyes adjusted to the darkness.

I was in a metal room, partially flooded with murky water. Behind me was a large round doorway to a short stretch of passage that was terminated by a cave-in, sealed tightly with boulders. A lantern hung from this doorway, casting a dim blue light. The opposite wall of the room contained a similar doorway, with a round door in it. From this second doorway a second blue lantern hung. The door itself had a large metal beam that connected it to the ceiling. The beam was composed of two segments, resembling a giant metal elbow. There were two columns between me and this door.

There were spinning gears placed here and there in the walls of the room with no apparent rhyme or reason.

Moss or fungus of some kind hung from the ceiling in long strips.

If this was the clockwork city, something had gone terribly wrong.

I walked through the water to the door. Did I mention that I hate water? I was not liking this place.

The metal door would not open. There was no handle or knob or other obvious way to open it. Pushing on it had no effect.

"Oh great, some stupid Dwemer puzzle thing."

I sighed and explored the room. The gears were large and heavy-looking. I would most likely hurt myself trying to interfere with them. I tried to find a switch or something by the door but there were none.

Eventually I noticed a box mounted to one of the columns with a handle on it. I pulled on the handle but it would not budge. I pushed with similar results. I twisted the handle. It spun in my hand, nicking one of my fingers.

"Fetcher!" I said before sucking the cut on my finger.

With a metallic creaking and cranking, the far door ponderously moved out from the wall, in my direction. Then the metal arm slowly folded, raising the door up and away while rotating it from the vertical.

I slowly approached the doorway. A swooshing sound ahead made me wary. I stepped through the doorway. Through the humid darkness something flickered every few seconds. I took another step. My vision was blocked for an instant. I felt a breeze. This happened again. The flickering was something moving in front of me, appearing and disappearing with a machinelike regularity.

I blinked the next time it happened and saw that it was two giant metal cutters, resembling axes wielded by a giants. One swung left to right while one swung right to left, always at the same time. If I took another step I would be cut to pieces.

I took a few steps back. This mechanical gauntlet could not be the clockwork city, could it? Had Almalexia sent me to the wrong place?

I looked back. Boulders. I looked forward. Choppers. Nothing but to go forward.

I had a feel for the rhythm of the thing now. After another chop I darted ahead as fast as I could in water.

The choppers swung behind me: I was through.

I was in a corridor now. I saw another handle box on the wall and I twisted it. This time I pulled my hand away in time. The door that I had opened a moment ago swung ponderously closed. Good. One thing I have learned from dungeon-crawling is that you always close the doors behind you: things might follow you otherwise.

The water-stained metal corridor turned to the right and then ramped up. Now I was out of the water: good. Sheets of fungus hung from the ceiling here and there. Every so often I passed a blue lantern or a rotating gear stuck in the wall.

The corridor turned to the left. I continued along it.

It ramped down. Back into the water; feh.

The corridor split. Ahead of me was a door. To my left the corridor opened up into a room.

Finding another box, I opened the door in front of me and saw another dead end: a corridor blocked off by a rock fall. There was a dead half-machine creature of the thinner type here. It was identical to those at the Plaza: this indicated that I was actually in the clockwork city of Sotha Sil. I closed the door to the dead end and then entered the room. There were pillars, gears, water, hanging fungus, two more doors ... and nothing else.

The first door I chose led to a small side room. Nothing of interest was there. I opened the second door and went through.

The corridor went on. It turned to the left. I saw a live creature. It ran toward me and attacked. I killed the beast. From the corpse I fetched another fortify speed potion, just as I had from the ones in the Plaza. What were they intended for?

This continued for hours: water-logged corridors with half-machine creatures of both kinds, the blue lights, the corridors with the choppers.

It made no sense. It was madness. Where was the city? Where were the people? The shops? The Guilds? The taverns?

At some point I reached halls that were were not water-logged. They had a different architectural style and seemed to be made of copper. The blue lanterns were gone, to be replaced by devices in the ceiling that emitted showers of bright sparks. Had this region been built later? or earlier?

At regular intervals along the walls were altars. At least they looked like altars but they didn't seem to do anything. There were no enchantments on them, no powers. Between the altars, the walls had a sort of ledge: one could walk from altar to alter without touching the floor if one had a desire to.

Some sort of grease or oil seemed to coat every surface: to lubricate all of those gears I guess. It seemed to be in the air. It gradually seemed to get all over me. I would need a bath if I ever got out of here.

And still the rumbling and grinding was all around me, even louder than before. I was inside a dark musty machine, broken yet still running. My head ached. These halls of delirium were making me crazy.

Half-machine creatures continued to attack me. I fought them two or three at a time and pressed on. I collected the potions.

One stretch of corridor had mechanical spikes pointing up from the floor, oscillating up and down. The floor was reddish brown here and I saw bones between the spikes: others must have tried to get though. I hopped on an altar and then walked along the ledge, bypassing the spikes.

Finally a break in the monotony: I found myself in a large domed room. In the center rotated a large pillar. The domed ceiling was dotted with many large rapidly whirling gears. I fought through the creatures. There were two doors. One lead to a large and complicated dead end. I went back to the dome. The other door was the one I wanted. I entered.

More copper corridors, more spark emitters, more creatures, no sense, no rhyme, no reason.

I would get through. I would find Sotha Sil. He would explain this. It would all make sense. He would help me sort out Almalexia. Somehow we would make things right.

Another round room, more like a big squat cylinder than a dome. Sparks showering down from the ceiling seemed to deepen the darkness more than provide light. I fought off the creatures there. There were bones scattered all over the floor, picked clean. They were not animal bones. What the oblivion was going on?

The only other door in this room was up high on walkway that ran along the wall. A ramp led up to this walkway but I did not take it right away. From the center of ceiling hung a large pole that extended horizontally to the walkway. This pole spun around the room at a rapid rate. The end of the pole was covered with wicked-looking blades. They gleamed in the spark-light and spun rapidly. Anything on that walkway would be shredded.

Crap.

I watched the pole spin around and around. I got a feel for the timing. I sighed. I knew what I had to do but it was going to be close.

Blessing my pack-rat impulse to grab the potions from every creature I had slain, I slammed down twelve or so of the fortify speed potions and I was off.

Now that I was running along the platform I could see that it was brown with dried blood. Countless adventurers had died here.

I blew it: the pole almost hit me. I saved myself by jumping off the platform. I did not have time to cast a spell but I managed to land feet first, so I broke both my legs instead of breaking my neck. When I came to, I took healing potions. The sound of the potions healing and setting the bones echoed even over the ever-present rumbling and grinding.

I walked partially up the ramp. I sucked fortify speed potions as rapidly as I could until the rotating arm passed me then I darted out again.

I reached the door. It was set back from the wall a little bit, enough that I could stay there and not be touched by the arm.

I leaned against the door for a time, trembling with reaction. That had been way too close.

After a time I spelled the door I was leaning on with a Lock spell and, despite the noise, I fell asleep. Nothing would approach me from within the room and nothing would get through the door.



Sotha Sil offered me more tea. I declined for now. We were seated in a balcony that overlooked a large plaza in the clockwork city. It was morning and the sunlight glinted of the gears on the buildings, off the metal roadways, and off the domestic animunculi. People rushed around busily, trading their wares.

She paused before continuing; "I'm glad we pulled you out of the sewers. That section is scheduled for demolition. I have no idea why Almalexia sent you there."

I studied her again. I could have sworn that I had read that Sotha Sil was a man but here she was in front of me; an Altmer female. She could have been the twin sister of Big Helande over in Sadrith Mora.

"Rashelle, I think we can sort matters out over in Mournhold. For starters I can send some machinery over to correct your weather problem."

I nodded. I was glad that I had made it though and was finally talking to Sotha Sil. It had all been worth it. It had also been a relief to wash all of that grease off.

"I think we need to go together and speak with Almalexia. I've known her for a thousand years and I'm sure I can convince her the error of her ways."

"What if she does not?"

"We three members of the Tribunal have drastically reduced powers since you destroyed the Heart. In terms of magic, we are very weak. However, unlike Almalexia and Vivec, I did not rely on my magical powers so much. This loss of power does not affect me at all. We'll bring some mechs to back us up."

I nodded. Earlier this morning she had shown me the mechs. They were autonomous automata used for defense and law enforcement. They were rather impressive.

"Rashelle, don't worry," she said as she gave my hand a squeeze, a human gesture I did not expect from a former goddess and continued: "The worst is over. We'll fix matters right."

I smiled. I was so happy.

The sun blinked out. There was a roaring sound. Ashes rained from the air. What the oblivion?

Sotha Sil turned into a skeleton. The skeleton shouted: "She killed me, Rashelle! She killed me with a sword!"

I ran from the balcony, into the building. It was now dark and there was a rumbling and grinding sound.

"She killed me, Rashelle! You're next!"



I woke up. It had been a dream: I had not found Sotha Sil. I was still in that room that had almost killed me. The air was still greasy. The rumbling and grinding continued. Just then the arm with the blades whirled by.

I was not sure I felt any more rested.

Essentially, I was still inside a large dark metal box, with only the half-machine creatures as company. Nothing but sparks and oil and madness.

Despite all of this, I still had faith that Sotha Sil was not mad. Almalexia had to be mistaken in that. Some accident had happened here and maybe he was trapped in a room, unable to control his creations. I would find him and rescue him. He'd do something with a lever or some gears and make it all right again. We'd then go and sort out Almalexia together: maybe even go get Vivec to assist as well.

I removed the Lock spell and went though the door.

In the next room, I was blind. Nothing but an even mass of grey: it was some sort of magical fog, somehow constrained to just that room. I fought things blindly. From the sound, and from touching the corpses afterwards, I identified them as two more of the usual creatures.

It took me a long time to get though this room. I had to do everything blindly, by touch and sound alone, fighting those half-machine creatures the whole time. A large machine in the center spat forth a new creature every minute. There was no obvious door out. Eventually I figured out that I had to enter the machine and I could only do it for a short window of opportunity; when it spat out a new creature.

I darted in, pushing past and chopping the creature. Something gashed me, a gear or who knows what, some piece of machinery. Then another creature was there. I killed it and took another potion. Woops: wrong one. Damnit: I couldn't see to identify my potions. I was faint as I took another potion: that one was a healing potion.

By sheer dumb luck and persistence I triggered the door and was through and into the next room. I could see again! I was in a copper corridor again.

I killed three more creatures. The rumbling and grinding and sparks continued. The sounds seemed to almost form voices. Sparks showered from the ceiling. The smell of oil was in the air.

After a time I entered another dome. Most of the room was simply a huge vat of oil, heated. I was on a walkway that only went part-way around the room. It did not reach the other side. This was a pity, as the other side was where the other door was located.

I dispatched the creatures there and then found a lever. The lever screeched as I pulled it. A platform grew out from across the room and extended itself all the way across.

I walked across. The fumes from the heated oil were making me nauseas.

More corridors. More creatures of both types. More sparks. More oil. The ever-present rumbling and grinding continued. None of my potions would make the headache go away.

After a time I began to make out words from the voices formed by the rumbling and grinding:

"She killed me Rashelle, she killed me with a sword."

It was what Sotha had said in my dream and now the rumbling and grinding voices were repeating it over and over.

I tried to focus, I tried to impose a state of serenity upon myself but I could not. I feared I was beginning to go mad. I looked up at a shower of sparks. They looked like fireflies.

How long this continued I am not sure: hours, days? I walked in a waking nightmare that went on and on. For a time I forgot why I was even doing this. I only knew that I could not go back.

"She killed me Rashelle, she killed me with a sword."

I was tired. My head hurt. My water had run out and I was thirsty. I was hearing words in the rumbling grinding voices. I knew I had gone mad but I pressed on: what else could I do?

At some point I reached a domed room that had nothing in it ... aside from two large statues by the far door. One looked broken. I had almost reached the door when instinct made me dart to one side. The unbroken statue swung at me, narrowly missing me.

It wasn't a statue. I turned and ran.

With a terrible racket, even louder than ambient noise of that place, it pursued me. This thing was triple the size of any Dwemer steam centurion I had ever faced, yet just as fast.

I spun around and cast a paralyze spell. Much to my relief, it worked. I went to work with Chrysamere, chopping at the thing, knocking some pieces off but mostly just making little dents.

The spell wore off and I darted away.

I hit it with a frost spell, encasing it in ice. I knew that would not hold it for long so I darted for the door ... made it.

I entered the next chamber and closed the door behind me.

I cast a Lock spell on the door, even though I knew the that thing was too big to fit. I expected it to pound on the door but oddly enough it did not. Perhaps when I had left the room it no longer considered me a threat.

I was in another dome. Aside from the ever-present rumbling and grinding voices, the room was silent. Nothing was here. Nothing alive that is.

Two posts rose up and bent towards each other, forming a sort of large misshapen arch. Between them hung a ghastly remnant of something that had once been a man. Where the arms should have been were masses of metal ropes that were attached to the arch. It was these that supported it. It looked liked some madman had wanted to fuse himself into this demented metal "city". Dead eyes stared at the ceiling, with a look of horror in them. It was wearing armor, including a strange open helm. A gash in its chest indicated that it had been stabbed with a sword or something right through the armor. There was dried blood on the floor. The lack of evidence of decay indicated that it has been killed recently. It had not died from trying to fuse itself into the metal things.

Next to the body was a tilted metal table with little levers and switches on it. They reminded me of the ones in the Dwemer weather machine, save that they were much smaller and there were more of them.

Where was Sotha Sil? Why had be built this mad maze? Where was the city? Where were the people? Would he explain this all to me? I felt like the world had gone mad.

I sighed and walked around past the arch, readying myself to go through the next door. When would it end?

There was no next door.

This was the end.

Where was Sotha Sil?

Then a realization hit me: that ruined thing was Sotha Sil.

I knew then that I was never going to talk to him. This mad clockwork "city" was never going to be explained to me. I was not going to get his advice nor his help on Almalexia.

For days I had been doing unpleasant things for Almalexia, things I was not sure I felt right doing. When I had been teleported to the clockwork city, I had been hoping that Sotha Sil would set things to rights.

That was not going to happen.

"Damnit!"

I tried to cast Recall. As expected, it did not work. I tried both Intervention spells. I didn't expect them to work either and they didn't. I was alone in a series of metal rooms with no way out.

I sat down by one of the posts.

"Azura ... I need a little help here. I have not called on you ever but I know you watch me. I've screwed things up. It's all gone wrong. I don't know what to do."

I sighed, then continued: "I can't go on."

I am not the religious type. It's just that when one *meets* a god, when one's life is permanently altered (fortunately, to my benefit) by a god one must accept the realities of the situation. I called on Azura because I had met her. She was real. she knew me and I knew her.

The continued rumbling and grinding was the only reply: "she killed me, Rashelle. She killed me with a sword."

I was too weary to do anything else. Too fed up to think. For a time I sat and stared at the door I had come through. My mind was empty of thought. I just did not care any more. I was done.

After some hours a cloud of light appeared by the door. Was it Azura? Had my prayer been answered?

No: the cloud dissipated, revealing Almalexia. She was wearing an odd-looking helm that covered her face. In her hands was a flaming sword. Unlike Trueflame, this one had a blue fire.

"So you live" she said to me in a tone of disappointment.

"You're welcome," I snapped back.

"You didn't need to send me." I continued. "Sotha Sil was already dead."

"Nerevarine, here it ends. This clockwork city was to be your death."

Say what?

She continued; "You were to be my greatest martyr; the heroic Nerevarine, sacrificing all to protect Morrowind from the mad Sotha Sil ... but you lived ... you lived."

Realization began to hit me ... like a hammer.

"Fear not, I will tell the tale myself when this is done. I will tell my people how with your dying breath you proclaimed your devotion to me, the one true God. Your death will end this prophecy and unite my people again under god, one faith, one rule by my divine law. The puppet king will bow down to my will. Those who do not yield will be destroyed."

She was insane. And I had been a fool. It was all becoming clear now.

"The Mazed Band has allowed me to travel to this place. Here I slew Sotha Sil. Here I summoned the fabricants to attack Mournhold. I will be the savior of my people. I alone will be their salvation."

Her words hit me like blows. She called the creatures "fabricants": she knew what they were called. She was behind the attack on the Plaza. I reeled. My world had gone mad.

"None my stand in my way. Not you, and certainly not Vivec. He is a poet, a fool. I will deal with him when I have finished with you. And Sotha Sil ... he always thought himself our better, shunning us, locking himself in his hole. He spoke not a word as he died, not a whisper. Even in death he mocked me with his silence ... but I think you will scream, mortal, for now you face the one true God."

She began to cast spells to drain my attributes. I felt myself weakening and slowing as I stood up. Some of the spells were absorbed by my birth-sign and they fueled my casting of restoration spells. My attributes were returned as fast as she drained them. She hit me with a fireball. I quaffed a potion and cast a fireball back.

Enough. My world had gone mad. I was trapped in a mad city with a mad god. I drew my sword and gave in to the madness.

She blocked my first swing but with a speed born of rage I somehow swung the mass of my claymore as if it were a short blade. Chrysamere bit into her flesh.

She howled but I was elsewhere, having darted to the side. Chrysamere struck her helm.

She yelled and came at me with that flaming sword.

Said sword flew across the room. I had just disarmed her. I followed this with a chop intended to decapitate her. It clanged off of her helm instead.

She shrieked and ran away from me, towards where her sword had landed.

I hit her with a frost-ball. It Reflected. At least the cold felt good.

I shook icicles off and ran towards her but she had her sword in her hands already. I used my sword to deflect her thrust and then kicked her in the stomach. I'd done it just right: the wind was knocked out of her. She waved her sword feebly and collapsed to her knees.

I kicked again: with a crunch of breaking finger-bones her sword flew across the room again.

I swung down and Chrysamere connected with her helm. I swung again. Her helm shattered: the pieces scattered across the floor.

Now I would finish this. I leaned forward and hissed; "You s'wit!"

She leaped up and attacked me, completely taking me by surprise. Stupid, Rashelle: even with the Heart destroyed she had some regenerative powers.

She knocked me down to the ground and tried to take Chrysamere: her hand had regenerated already and she now tugged with both hands. I tried to elbow her without letting go of the sword. She snarled and bit me on the arm.

Chrysamere flew away. She tried to punch me in the stomach again and again. Had she forgotten I was wearing an ebony cuirass?

She hit me with a fireball. My birth-sign absorbed it.

I backhanded her and she came right back at me before I could get up. I was wearing armor but she had that godlike regeneration ability. She tried to strangle me. She was bigger than me but I was stronger: I chopped sideways with my hands on her forearms and my neck was released. I made a fist and smashed her in the face. I could hear the crunch as her nose broke.

She viciously yanked on my pony tail. It hurt.

She wanted to fight dirty? I would return the favor. I spat in her face.

She instinctively pulled back her head and my elbow connected with her jaw. She went limp for an instant, which was enough time for my booted foot to impact with her rib cage. She went flying.

I was up and running. I reached her, shouted "You s'wit" and kicked.

"You s'wit!" I shouted as I kicked her again.

I kicked her again while shouting "you s'wit" again. Three times. Four. I don't know exactly when she died but I kept kicking. I was hysterically screaming "you s'wit" over and over again while kicking the corpse.

After a time, the rage faded and measure of partial sanity returned to me. Focus, Rashelle. I stopped. A wave of pain, unfelt during the fight, washed over me. I took a healing potion.

I looked at the body, its original identity almost unrecognizable, and a wave of sickness washed over me. The contents of my stomach splashed on the greasy metal floor. I had seen much death and dealt a lot of it myself, but I had never done anything like this before.

With distaste, I wearily searched through the body. No money, no keys; just those few strange pieces of armor, a loincloth, and the Mazed Band. I took only the ring.

After rubbing my hands clean as best I could, I wiped the Band off and put it on. I invoked it. I felt a tingle of magic and could sense that it could be used to summon one of those fabricants. It could also be used to teleport the wearer to one three locations: Vivec, Mournhold, and my present location in the clockwork city. I thought "Vivec city": maybe Vivec could help.

The ring teleported me, but not to Vivec. I felt a sort of wrenching sensation that I somehow knew was not normal and I was in Almalexia's chamber in the Temple in Mournhold. The five Hands stationed there ignored me.

"No damnit, Vivec!"

Wrench. The world disappeared and then reappeared. I was still in that chamber.

"DAMNIT. STUPID RING".

I took it off and threw it, narrowly missing one of the Hands. That was stupid but it felt good to do.

I cast Recall.

The wrenching this time was painful. I collapsed to the ground in agony. I was still in Mournhold.

"WHAT THE OBLIVION IS GOING ON?" I screamed.

The Hands ignored me. They awaited Almalexia's return. They'd have a very long wait.

I took a healing potion. I stood up and, after retrieving the Mazed Band, I stepped out of the room, into the temple reception area.

As I walked past Granny Varis, tracking the grease from Sotha Sil's "city" and the blood from Almalexia on the floor, she reminded me that she kept this temple "as clean as Almalexia's conscience."

I stopped, glared at her, and in a quiet voice said, "No, it's far cleaner."

She scurried away.

I trudged towards the exit.

Outside, I saw that the ash storms still continued. How long had I been away? I was so tired.

Azura was there. She had chosen to manifest as an older-looking Dunmer woman clad in a full-length gown. I walked to her and fell to my knees.

I looked up at her.

There was sadness in her eyes. Wordlessly, she put a hand on my forehead. I felt some of my weariness slip away. I felt more sane, more myself. My headache was gone.

"Thank you," I said.

"You have done well, mortal. The death of Almalexia is a boon for all of Morrowind, though it may take time for this to be understood. She would have betrayed the Dunmer as surely as she betrayed all she loved. This was her curse, and her undoing."

"Because of my stupidity, Sotha Sil is dead. She killed him ... with a sword."

Maybe the voices had not been madness after all, but some last post-mortem communique from Sotha Sil that had somehow been imbued into his machinery.

"Weep not for Sotha Sil. He shed his mortality long ago. I am certain his death was no small relief to him, These 'gods' were burdened with a power no mortal was meant to possess."

"So now what?"

Suddenly the ash storms were gone. It was clear and sunny.

"Your work in Morrowind is not finished, Nerevarine. Vivec still lives, but I believe his time goes short. Protect my people, defend these lands. The skies of Mournhold are clear once again. Let these people suffer no longer. Now go mortal, embrace your destiny and go with my blessing."

She faded away. I stood up. The sun was shining on the ash-covered dead trees. The sky was a cheerful blue but my mood was grey like the ash covering the ground. I trudged though the ashes towards the Palace. I would tell King Helseth what had happened: no one else would want to hear it.

This post has been edited by blockhead: May 11 2007, 05:12 AM

[The Metal Mallet]

What a wonderful climax! It's very realistic how Rashelle reacted afterwards. Excellent work in building tension and so forth. I'm interested in seeing how you finish off this story.

[jack cloudy]

In one word, Fantastic! I especially loved the dream with Sotha Sil. That one was neat and unexpected.

So, what's she going to do next? And when will you let the next story take place, between this one and Lokken, or after Lokken? I'll be waiting.


And did I mention that you complete your stories at an incredible pace? I'm impressed.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: May 11 2007, 09:42 PM

[minque]

I´m speechless! What a showdown....purely amazing...I have to second both Jackie and Mallie here....

Now I´m curious to learn more about the continuation....Hmm there will be one, right?

[blockhead]

Chapter 12. Forgiven



"Very interesting," said Helseth.

He, Barenziah and myself were in Barenziah's chambers. I had just related the entire story to the two of them. From the tone of his voice I could tell that he believed me. Good.

"Rashelle, you were right in insisting that this discussion be private. The Dunmer do not give up on their beliefs so easily. It will probably be centuries before they accept that Almalexia is no more. It is best that you speak to no one else about this."

I nodded. This agreed with both my first impulse and with my later reasoning.

After leaving the Palace I tried the Mazed band again. "Vivec City," I thought. I appeared in front of the Temple in Vivec. I tested it again, and it sent me to Sotha Sil. I then had the ring take me to Mournhold. I was teleported to Almalexia's chamber. The five Hands ignored me. The Mazed Band worked fine. Presumably Azura had interfered with the teleportation magic because she wanted to see me in Mournhold.

It began to rain as I walked from the Temple towards Godsreach. This was a good thing: it would wash the accumulated ashes away. the city was beginning to cleanse itself.

After catching up on my sleep at the Winged Guar, I got down to business. I did some investigating: the final count of deaths from the ash storms was 38. I could not bring back the dead but I could, and did, donate significant sums to their families as an anonymous weregild.

Only after I had completed that did I feel that I could return to Vvardenfell.



I awoke from a fitful sleep. I was in my bed in my house in Balmora. Something was in my room with me. I sat up, Chrysamere in my hands already. A ghostly light revealed ... a ghost.

"Salas!"

"Hello Rashelle. I want you to know that I am sorry for how I acted. I was mad, quite insane."

"Oh Salas, I wanted to save you; really I did!"

"I know, Rashelle, but you could not have: there is no potion to cure madness. I may have been safe from Almalexia, but I most likely would have ended up wandering the countryside of Vvardenfell randomly killing people. It is best this way."

I nodded.

"Rashelle?"

"Yes?"

"I have spoken to ... the others, the ones who died in the ash storms. You are forgiven. Continue to go out there and do good."

He faded away.

I returned to bed. I slept better than I had in a long time.

This post has been edited by blockhead: May 12 2007, 03:39 PM

[The Metal Mallet]

Ah, that was certainly a charming ending. It's good to hear that Rashelle has been forgiven. I bet it certainly helps to ease her conscience.

Hmmm... I wonder what's next for Rashelle? As Azura stated, the people of Morrowind still need her help.

[blockhead]

Thank you all for the kind words.

jack cloudy wrote:

In one word, Fantastic! I especially loved the dream with Sotha Sil. That one was neat and unexpected.

So, what's she going to do next? And when will you let the next story take place, between this one and Lokken, or after Lokken? I'll be waiting. smile.gif


And did I mention that you complete your stories at an incredible pace? I'm impressed.

That dream is kind of based on how I imagined Tribunal to me when I first installed it. I was subsequently disappointed .. but I do have to concede that, though grim, the ending Bethesda had was powerful.

I'm not as fast as you would think. In the beginning of this story when I would get stuck on something, I'd skip ahead and write a future bit. After a while, the future bits accumulated. This is why the chapters were getting released rapidly near the end.

Actually, this story was very unusual in that I wrote chapter Eleven FIRST, before anything else. It was really rough to write this story but what kept me going was that I wanted to "publish" that chapter.

What also slowed me down were the dungeon crawls. The most tedious things to write are dungeon crawls and fights! Fun to play, fun to read, but a bear to write! I've discovered that the easiest thing for me to write is dialog. I could write a story of people just talking. How weird is that?

As for what is next, I'm taking a break for a day or so before even thinking about what to do next ... although ... I played Lokken again the other day and Rashelle & I forget how much we missed the place and the people. Emma put in a surprising amount of "post-quest" material: this really makes the place seem alive.

With the main Lokken quest done I don't have a plot (although there are enough loose ends to start a story going). I've gotten better at this writing stuff ... but I just can't seem to think of plots. So far I've only written variations of existing quests/storylines. I'd really like to write more Lokken stuff. I want to go there.

Definitely I want to write more Rashelle stuff. It would probably be good for me to diversify and write about other people but she's so interesting, so cool! I swear she writes herself and surprises me sometimes!

minque wrote:

Ahaha.....so that's it? just put some weird chemical substance and the sword is covered in flames. But when the tar is consumed? then it would be covered in ash.....hmmmm. Those dwemers weren't such good chemists I reckon.

In a universe where magic exists and the moons are actually the corpses of dead gods (if I read the Lore correctly), the whole Conservation Of Energy/Matter thing just might not apply.


Oh, and to all: I am open to ideas/suggestions for the next story.

[The Metal Mallet]

Well if you like writing the dialogue all the time, why not write a play? Those basically consist entirely of dialogue.

For me, the hardest part of writing is the stuff that leads up to action. Just because I'm so eager just to get right into the action but I know I need to pace myself and build it up suffciently. I actually like writing fight scenes, though I agree with you on the dungeon crawling part (that's probably why my story doesn't truly feature that aspect of the game). Dialogue is definitely fun too when you're writng bad guys or smart mouthed heroes. Other dialogue sometimes seems a bit too tedious, but I guess to each it's own.

I look forward to whatever you decide to write next.

[jack cloudy]

I guess I'm like Mallet there. My stories are overflowing with action. My characters must hate me for never giving them a rest unless it's midnight and even then I have the habit of setting assassins loose.

On the other hand, I like dungeon crawls. They're tedious to write, sure but I find the idea of a trapped maze utterly irresistable. You bet I'm going to add a few good dungeon crawls in Corrupted Heart.

And as for getting ideas for stories, I admit that ripping the plot straight out of the game is both easy and works well. Coming up with a good plot from scratch is hard. That said, I suggest you pursue some interesting rumour you heard, or some odd situation that caught your attention. Explore those small things which seemed unimportant while playing. Turn an NPC into a fully fledged character. Or make a new character who lives around the same time as your main one and explore his/her's actions.

And some silly plot I just came up with. What if Rashelle has to deal with a Nerevarine fanclub?