Trey in Mournhold, Chapter 6 Options

[Kiln]

Seems that Trey in Mournhold is nearing its end now...Trey has just passed the tenth quest out of the seventeen in the Mournhold MQ...not so many left now.

I liked Trey's reaction to being told to speak with Almalexia directly, he seemed as excited as I was when I first got the chance to meet her. Anyways I'm looking forward to the meeting as well and the rest of the story obviously.

Continue soon.

[minque]

I could not escape the feeling that I was being told by condescending elders,

“That’s nice, dear. Now run along and play.”

Ah well.....two awesome updates since I was around last! As usual I found a qoute which I loved!

I promise I´ll really get around to do the Mournhold quests after reading this story to its end....Oh dear it will end??? NOes! I never want the stories of Trey to end.....never!!!! Ya hear me sweet treydog??????

[Fuzzy Knight]

Ah well.....two awesome updates since I was around last! As usual I found a qoute which I loved!

I promise I´ll really get around to do the Mournhold quests after reading this story to its end....Oh dear it will end??? NOes! I never want the stories of Trey to end.....never!!!! Ya hear me sweet treydog??????

We got Bloodmoon and a couple of mods don't we?

[minque]

We got Bloodmoon and a couple of mods don't we?

Oh aye! Quite right there Fuzz.....let´s hope our Trey will continue his marvellous adventures for a loooooong time to come!

[treydog]

Even today, I do not have the words to express how reluctant I was to meet Almalexia. My attitude regarding the gods was straightforward- I tended to ignore them in the profound hope that they would extend the same consideration to me. The disdain I felt for the nobility paled in comparison to my feelings about the so-called “Nine Divines.” As for the Tribunal of Morrowind, my usual antipathy was flavored with a large dose of skepticism. It was hard to find much written about the origins of the three beings who formed the “new” pantheon of Morrowind, and most of that material came direct from the Temple itself. Nevertheless, all sources agreed that the three “beings” who became the Tribunal had begun their existence as mortals. And my own short and brutal life had taught me one certainty- every mortal creature eventually dies. Any discussion of how Almalexia, Sotha Sil, and Vivec had managed to become gods got vague very quickly. In fact, it seemed to consist largely of the “it-was-a-miracle-now-stop-asking-inconvenient-questions” variety. To put it a different way, what I doubted was Almalexia’s divinity, not her power. And I knew enough of the arbitrary nature of the gods to fear a mortal with god-like powers even more. Nothing good could come from attracting the attention of the gods- as far as I was concerned, escaping their notice was the secret to a long and happy life. The gods were not like watchmen or kings- you couldn’t fool them by changing your name, or combing your hair differently, or moving to another town. Despite Plitnius’ advice, I did not polish my armor or put on a better set of robes before my audience with Almalexia. After all, she wanted to see me, not the other way ‘round. Fine then- let her see me as I was. If she wanted to turn me into a newt, it wouldn’t matter to me that I was the best-dressed newt in Mournhold.

The doors to the High Chapel, which had always been magically locked before (what can I say, I was a thief- I always checked closed doors out of habit, rather like a cat does) now opened at my touch. The Chapel was dimly lit and sparsely furnished, with a high dome supported by slender columns. The floor was an intricate mosaic of green and yellow tiles forming a pattern that attracted the eye. In the center of the chamber stood a golden figure, which I took to be a statue, until I realized that it was floating above the floor. This was the goddess Almalexia, surrounded by her elite guards, known as “Hands.” Except for her hair, which was a fiery red, everything about the goddess was gold- her skin, even her eyes. I knew that the Dunmer had once been the Chimer, a race of gold-skinned elves- but I had never expected to see living evidence. I was somewhat taken aback by the tattoos on her arms, legs, and torso; but then I recalled that she had been a warrior before ascending to her present status. Her face was too strong to be called beautiful; in fact, it had an alien quality, missing some essential bit of that which makes us human. After a long, uncomfortable time of staring at each other, she bade me approach. Although I suspected I was taking a risk, I decided that I would not kneel. If she wanted my help, I would listen; if she wanted my worship, she was going to be disappointed.

Her first question surprised me- rather than asking about the Mazed Band or Barilzar, she inquired whether I had found any information about a group called the “End of Times Cult.” Confused, I replied:

“Cult, my lady? I was not aware of any such group.”

Her answer failed to enlighten me further, as she simply stated,

“They will not continue to exist in my city.”

It was odd- the words were without conviction or emotion, as if she had left those aspects of humanity behind her, as well. Seeking to bring the conversation back to more familiar ground, I carefully extracted Barilzar’s Ring from a pocket and held it before me. Unsure whether I should approach closer or not, I remained in place and said,

“I believe this may be the Mazed Band. Gavas Drin told me that you required it….?”

Moving languidly, Almalexia lifted the ring from my outstretched palm and examined it minutely. Again, neither her voice nor her expression revealed any hint of emotion. At last, she raised her eyes to my face and said,

“An interesting item, is it not? It seems ordinary enough, but it is much more. The ring is cold now, but the embers of its power still burn hot within. I will use my magic to reawaken this power.”

That would have been enough for most people and should have been enough for me, but I was never able to restrain my curiosity (or my mouth). Perhaps it was because Barenziah had planted the question in my mind or perhaps it was because I was nettled that the goddess seemed so unaffected after all I had gone through- in any event, I inquired,

“And what do you hope to do with the ring?”

At last, a hint of something appeared on Almalexia’s face, there and gone so quickly that I could not interpret it. When she spoke, her voice was again cool and composed:

“Do not concern yourself too deeply in these matters, friend Trey. I will use the ring as I do everything...to serve the Temple and all of Morrowind. You have been a pleasant surprise to meet. I have seen something in you that I have not seen in a very long time. I bestow the blessing of My Light upon you. May it serve you well. We will speak again soon.”

Before I quite knew what she was about, the goddess placed her right hand on my head and spoke some few words that I could neither understand nor recall. A blast of icy cold passed through me and then I was released. As I staggered out of the Chapel, taking a silent inventory of my anatomy, I understood that she had gifted me with the ability to cast a spell that would restore all of my attributes. Although such a spell would be useful, I could not help but wonder if I had paid too high a price for it. My worry was profound, for I was certain of one thing- when I looked at Almalexia, I looked upon the face of madness.

[The Metal Mallet]

Yet again, a strong post by Trey. You really brought out the character of Almalexia. Really enjoyed the newt remarks as well.

[mplantinga]

To bask in the (less than) glorious presence of a "god" seems like quite an experience for Trey. I am encouraged by his concern over Almalexia and her state of mind. Such caution will serve him well in the days to come.

[jack cloudy]

So, he's not too happy with meeting a 'god'. Good for him, caution makes you live longer.

[treydog]

It seemed that I had reached the end of my options- Helseth refused to come out of hiding; Almalexia was likely insane and certainly unnerving; and none of the people I trusted seemed to have any advice for me. Perhaps the best thing would be to get a good meal, followed by sleep in a comfortable bed- those were both things I had often dreamt of when they seemed as unattainable as the stars. As I reached the Winged Guar, a familiar phrase came to my ears and I turned to see a white-robed Dunmer priest. He was exhorting passersby to “prepare for the End of Times,” which was the phrase that had caught my attention. The goddess had made some mention of an End of Times Cult during our conversation- now I had found one of its priests. Usually it is a bad idea to engage street preachers in conversation- you generally end up feeling as if your head will explode from trying to follow their rambling denunciations of everything from tooth powder to dramatic actors. But I felt that anyone who had drawn the negative attention of the Tribunal Temple was worth listening to- he might actually know something of use. The priest said his name was Eno Romari and that he had once been a part of the Temple. Through his study of ancient texts and an awareness of current events, he had determined that the days of the Tribunal gods were waning, and that all the people of Morrowind needed to prepare for the change that was coming. Curious, I asked him to describe his beliefs. With a smile, he replied,

“Our beliefs are very simple, dear friend. The blessed Tribunal, though once filled with glory, are no longer the gods they once were. As with the tides and Tamriel's moons, all cosmic powers will wax and wane. But, when gods die, it creates ripples throughout the lands. The passing of the Three will be a prelude to the end of this era, and the beginning of the next. The followers of the End of Times are making ourselves ready for this to happen.”

When I nodded attentively, he warmed to his subject, seemingly happy to have at last found a receptive audience.

“We realize that the end of the era will bring many changes. We believe that the gates of Oblivion will open, and the multitude of daedra will roam this world freely. Some might tell you that this is a good thing, that we are descended from the daedra and it will be a return to the natural order of things. I know differently, though. The coming age will be a time of great horror. The Daedra Princes are not our ancestors. Nor are they our allies. They will wash over the land, destroying all that man and mer have built over these thousands of years. The only protection from this scourge will be our true ancestors that have gone before us and watch over us even now. Many of our followers choose to participate in the Cleansing, to prepare the way for the rest of us. It is a sacrifice to be sure, but it is for the greater good.”

Something about the tone with which he said “the Cleansing” caught my attention, so I inquired about that ritual. Growing serious, Romari explained,

“It is a glorious ritual, friend Breton. Our followers cleanse themselves of all of their troubles, all of their burdens here on this earth. They send themselves ahead to the ancestors, spreading our word, making ready for when we shall all join them in our fight against the daedric hordes.”

That sounded suspiciously like a very wordy way of saying that these people were committing ritual suicide. That was as much as I really needed to know about these “End of Times” folk, so I bade the priest good day and continued into the tavern. Still, Eno Romari’s words had given me much to think about. I was not sure if I believed his doomsday predictions- either generally or specifically. He could just be an unbalanced individual whose exposure to the rigors of the Temple had pushed him completely over the edge. Still, his contention that the Tribunal gods were weakening fit with my own speculations. I had no knowledge of Sotha Sil or Vivec, but I could well believe that Almalexia was falling into madness and possibly mortality. On the other hand, I doubted that the Temple was going to fail in the next few hours, and I could hear a meal, a bath, and a bed calling out to me. Right now, those were the three gods I was willing to worship.

For a wonder, my sleep was untroubled and dreamless. However, that blessing was more than offset by the nightmare that greeted me upon awakening. I was roused by the sound of running feet and shouted questions. The attempts on my life over the last few months had honed my senses and reflexes to the point that I was out of the bed, sword in hand, before I even came fully awake. I began to make out some words, repeated over and over, apparently in response to questions- “attack…fight… Plaza.” Without waiting to consider my actions, I donned my armor and ran outside. From the southeast, the direction of the Plaza Brindisi Dorom, I could hear the sounds of fighting. My first thought was that Helseth and Almalexia had finally come to open battle and I wondered what had precipitated it. Entering the Plaza, I discovered that the Royal Guards and Ordinators were indeed fighting, but as allies against a common foe. From the shadows of the gate I was able to watch the swirl of combat and make out some details. First, the…creatures…battling the guards were completely unfamiliar to me. They seemed to be some unnatural combination of flesh and machinery. I had encountered Dwemer constructs in the ruins of Arknghthand, and these were similar and yet different. There were at least two types: a large, quadrupedal sort that rather resembled a cross between a small dragon and a large scorpion, and a more slender, bipedal creature that looked like a mechanical version of an agile guar or alit. Whatever they were and wherever they had come from, I could not simply stand by while men and elves fought against them. Always before, I had fought alone. Now the sight of others fighting against nightmare creatures brought on a sort of battle madness and I wondered if Hloggar had been correct when he said that the blood of Skyrim flowed in my veins.

Whatever the reason, I still fought as I always had, quietly and with an eye toward staying alive. Given the chaotic nature of the fight, I also reasoned that it would need to be sword work- firing arrows into such a swirling mass might be unwise. There was too great a chance that I would hit a guard or an Ordinator. It was not that I would mind hitting one of them so much as I did not wish to deal with the questions that would be sure to follow. Moving around the fringes of the battle, I did my part. Wherever I saw man or elf beset by two or more of the creatures, I darted in from the side or rear. Whatever the creatures were, a cut to the back of the leg brought them down and a thrust to the neck stopped their movement. If I make it sound easy, I do a disservice to all who fought there. Whoever or whatever it was that had merged living tissue and machinery had done a frightfully good job- the creatures were as strong as the largest Dwemer constructs, but much more clever. They were also remarkably fast, as I discovered when one of the bipeds whipped its head around and nearly took my arm off. I was saved only by quick shield work and an Ordinator, who disappeared back into the melee before I could call my thanks. And then, as quickly as it had begun, the fight was over. A profound silence fell upon the Plaza, broken only by calls for aid and the hisses and squeals as the last of the creatures were dispatched. It was somewhat amusing to watch the Royal Guards and the Ordinators rather stiffly acknowledging one another before retreating to their usual posts. Even though they had fought side-by-side, saving one another’s lives, there was too much between the Temple and the king for them to become friends so easily.

After taking a healing potion, I surveyed the scene. The statue that had graced the center of the Plaza was smashed and the bodies of the creatures leaked peculiar fluids onto the stones. Curious, I approached and collected samples for later study. As a student of alchemy, I was always interested in the possible properties of new substances. The liquids were quite heavy and felt oily, with an odd sheen. As I worked, one of the Royal Guards approached and gruffly thanked me for my help. Then he asked me to let Tienius Delitian know what had passed. A few minutes later, an Ordinator made the same request, excepting that he wanted me to go straight to Fedris Hler with a report. Now that the crisis was over, things were back to normal, with the king and goddess at each other’s throats. Just another perfect day in Mournhold.

[mplantinga]

Trey is indeed turning into quite the hero. Not only does he show both wisdom and patience in learning about the end of times cult, but he also shows great bravery in his fight in the plaza. It was good to see that he didn't just let the guards deal with the creatures, but risked his own neck to help defend a city he almost hates. Well, perhaps more accurately, a city whose leaders he despises. It would seem his feelings for the common man show a little more practicality and protective concern.

[The Metal Mallet]

The question now is who is Trey going to report to? He obviously isn't very fond of either company... I am all ready eager to find out!

[treydog]

The Royal Guards wanted me to speak only to their captain and the Ordinators wanted me to speak only to the Temple Steward. I, as usual, had a different idea. I had already been working with both factions- not so much playing them against one another as refusing myself to be the pawn of either. Therefore, I would follow my usual practice of reporting to both Tienius Delitian and Fedris Hler. If either wanted to make an issue of it, I could always tell them to find another errand boy. When I entered the throne room, eyes swiveled to follow my progress and conversations ceased. My clothing was stained with the ichor of the creatures from the Plaza, and it was clear that I had been involved in the fighting. Delitian maintained his usual calm demeanor as I informed him that the city had been attacked by strange beasts, but they had been beaten back. He responded with a laconic,

“I have heard about the attack on the city and I’ve dispatched guards to take care of it. Thank you for your report. You can help in another way. I’d like you to investigate the disturbance.”

When I asked what precisely he wanted me to investigate, the captain gave one of his brief smiles and replied,

“Obviously, we can't allow these attacks to continue, but we need to know more about the source. It seems the attacks originated from some Dwemer ruins that have been buried deep beneath Mournhold. The Memorial statue has been destroyed, and we've cleared a passage below. My reports tell me that the creatures that attacked were at least partially mechanical, so perhaps they were of Dwemer origin. I want you to explore these ruins, find out where these creatures have come from, and report back to me.”

Taking my leave of Delitian, I stepped out the door and used my amulet of Almsivi Intervention to go directly to the Temple. Despite the speed of my arrival, word of my activities had traveled still faster and Fedris Hler was not totally happy with me. His first words were a mild reprimand:

“I understand you have already spoken to Tienius Delitian about the attack on the city. He is correct in having you investigate, but you should bring any information to me. This is a Temple city and it is a Temple matter. We will deal with it. Let me repeat- do just as Delitian suggested: investigate the ruins of the Dwemer city that have opened in the Plaza Brindisi Dorom. When you have learned anything about these creatures, these fabricants, return to me and report your findings. The Temple will deal with this.”

As I left the Temple, two seemingly unrelated events came into focus in my mind- Almalexia’s desire for the Mazed Band, a ring which was supposed to be able to summon creatures from other worlds; and, a mere 24 hours later, an attack on Mournhold by creatures no one had ever seen before. Was it just coincidence, or something more? And if the goddess was behind the attack, what was her motive? Or had it been an accident, a slip as she learned to control the ring? While I might not find answers to those questions, I would soon learn more about what lay beneath the Plaza- in that at least, Hler and Delitian were agreed. One other seemingly insignificant detail that stayed in my mind- even while he claimed ignorance of the creatures’ origins, Fedris Hler had given them a name- “fabricants.” If he had never heard of them before, how did he know what they were called? Some days, I felt as if I was simply a giant question mark and that answers were scarcer than diamonds- and more precious.

Since I did not know what I might find below the Plaza, I replenished my supply of arrows and made sure that I had plenty of restorative potions. Regretfully, I set aside the fabricant ichor for later study- there was not enough time for a careful analysis of its properties. When I reached the Plaza, the bodies of the creatures had been removed and a crude wooden ladder had been lowered into the gaping hole below the broken statue. While those preparations had been made, no one seemed terribly anxious to descend into the depths- they apparently hoped that some other fool- ah, brave adventurer- would take on that task. As I reached the top of the ladder and glanced around at the gathered Ordinators and Royal Guards, some of them made encouraging gestures, but they all stood well back from the opening and kept a tight grip on their weapons. Somehow, I could not avoid the feeling that I was being dangled above the waters of a dark lake as a way of seeing if anything was biting. Like- say, giant carnivorous frogs.

[mplantinga]

Like- say, giant carnivorous frogs.

A brilliant line that quite adequately sums up the dangers of Mournhold. I'm looking forward to seeing what Trey does when he realizes the source of the fabricants. It seems he already realized the Temple knows more than it is letting on, since Fedris did give the abominations a name.

[minque]

An awesome Trey-quote:

Usually it is a bad idea to engage street preachers in conversation- you generally end up feeling as if your head will explode from trying to follow their rambling denunciations of everything from tooth powder to dramatic actors.

Our hero continues his adventures in Mournhold.....which immediately make me think of this quote:

Just another perfect day in Mournhold.

For me this is all unexplored areas.....so exciting....

Wonderfully described as usual.

Oh and I´m sorry to not have commented more than once on the last three additions, won´t happen again!

[jack cloudy]

This is interesting. I doubt they're Dwemer. From what I've seen, Dwemer prefer 100% mechanical thingies.

Now let's see how Trey can get through this without getting eaten or something.

[Wolfie]

Hehe, Trey is really starting to get tired of not getting answers to all those questions he has. Can't wait to see how this pans out

[treydog]

In a way, I was anxious to see the supposed Dwemer ruin beneath the city. Perhaps there would be some clues as to who the mysterious, mechanically-inclined elves had been. There might also be great dangers-it seemed that many of Mournhold’s current problems were a result of the decision to rebuild on top of the ruins of the destroyed city. Recalling my recent fight with Barilzar, I could not help but consider that while burying your problems may seem like a good solution, sometimes they refuse to stay dead. Those thoughts occupied me as I made the long descent to the area beneath the Plaza. The ladder reached a small chamber that was filled with rushing water and the broken remains of the statue above. A tunnel opened to the north, and I heard the clash of metal, as well as the crackle of magical lightning from that direction. As I crept down the passage, it was clear that it had been hastily clawed out of the surrounding rock and soil, looking rather as if something had been burrowing to the surface. As I rounded a bend, I glimpsed finished walls decorated in the Dwemer style beyond the tunnel mouth and realized that I was high up on one side of a huge room in the ancient Dwemer ruin. The architecture and decoration of the place intrigued me, but I had no time to study it, for there was a fight taking place before my eyes. Crouching against the wall, I watched in fascination as more of the “fabricants” clashed with Dwemer constructs. The fight was over in minutes, with the Dwemer guardians holding the field. It was not an easy victory, though, as attested by the piles of metal and puddles of leaking fluids scattered around the chamber. Although my assigned task was complete, I watched for a while longer, for the Dwemer constructs were unfamiliar to me. I cannot describe exactly how they were different than what I had seen before, except to say that they seemed more…advanced. They were certainly more deadly, and I had seen one variety apparently making use of some form of magic. As nothing else seemed about to happen, I gladly returned to the fresh air and sunlight of the Plaza.

While the sky was clear, my thoughts were less so. I now had a choice- should I report to Delitian or to Fedris Hler? In a way, it seemed hardly to matter- each of them appeared to know what the other did almost instantly. Any naïve notions I might have had that I was the only spy working for one or the other of the powers in this city had been dispelled long ago. It was rather like the old riddle about fighting a dragon- would you rather approach the head or the tail? Of course, the answer was, “Flip a coin. Because it doesn’t matter; you’ll be just as dead either way.” In the spirit of fair play, I decided to talk to the Temple first this time. More to the point, I had a feeling that they, or at least their goddess, knew more about this business than they were saying. When I spoke to Hler, he accidentally confirmed what I suspected- at least he did if you had a nasty, suspicious mind.

“You say these new creatures were fighting with the Dwemer creatures? This is very disturbing. Only someone with great power could control these fabricant creatures. Almalexia will be interested to hear this news. I'm sure she'll have some insight into it.”

Yes, indeed. Someone with great power. Perhaps, for example, someone who now possessed Barilzar’s Mazed Band? My suspicion was now so strong that I feared it must be obvious to anyone who looked, especially to Almalexia. In my audience with the goddess, I had gotten the feeling that she could see right through my skin and into my soul. However, Hler had given me just enough room to interpret his words. He had not explicitly told me to report to the goddess- he had merely implied it. That was enough of a gap for me to wriggle through, and I did, heading immediately for the Palace. I did not really believe that Delitian could or would protect me- but I doubted that Almalexia was yet willing to risk the open confrontation it would precipitate if she sent her minions to take me from the Palace by force. And besides, I still had to make my second report.

When I entered the Throne Room, there was a heightened tension in the air; all the guards seemed to be standing straight rather than assuming their usual bored slouch. And then I realized that a person I had never seen before stood at the center of the dais, talking to Tienius Delitian. He was tall, with the gray skin and red eyes of the Dunmer. And he was wearing a purple robe with a scarlet panel embroidered in gold with the royal lions of Wayrest and stylized dragons of the Empire. Last of all, atop his head was a crown. My breath quickened- Helseth had come into the open.

Here at last was the man I had compromised my very soul to meet. His appearance was actually a bit disappointing- I had always thought that evil would have far more… presence. What I saw was a youngish man of Dunmer descent, handsome in a rather emaciated way. His eyes spoke of a dark intelligence and seemed to burn with some inner light. That was perhaps the only indication of the ambition and arrogance which had set him on his murderous path to the throne. And now he was within my reach. Because I was in the Throne Room, I had been forced to wear my robe and set my shield aside. But I still wore my Dark Brotherhood armor and my sword was belted to my waist beneath the robe. The garment hindered my sword arm, so my draw was not as smooth as I would have liked. Still, the time it cost me was equaled by the startled paralysis of the Imperial guards. I could think of no battle cry or words that could do justice to the way I felt about Helseth, so I made no sound as I launched myself toward him, sword-point foremost.

The fierce rush of joy I felt as I saw the fear in his eyes was snuffed when a massive form like a mountain of red steel intercepted my lunge. It was Karrod, the huge Redguard who never spoke. With an almost casual flick of his shield, he deflected my blade, causing it to strike sparks from the marble floor. He did not move to attack me, but simply held his shield again at the ready. Others had begun moving, though, overcoming their surprise. As I gathered myself to try again, a wall of armored figures interposed itself between me and the king. Worse still, I could sense more guards moving in behind me. With a despairing wail, I launched myself at the red-armored barricade, hoping to somehow cut my way through to the king, to at least make him bleed a little in payment for my suffering. Before I could reach him, I felt a blow strike my right side. My armor turned the edge of the blade, but the force still drove the breath out of me. Then the strikes became too many to count- I felt blades piercing my back and my sides. My lungs began to fill and I went to my knees, coughing. The sword fell from my hand, too heavy to lift. Careful steps circled in from my left and I raised my eyes enough to see Tienius Delitian staring down at me. His face was grim and he held his sword at shoulder height. In a deep voice, he intoned,

“You are brave, but still a fool and a traitor. For treason, there is only one penalty. For your bravery, I will make it quick.”

The last thing I saw as the captain’s sword began its arc toward my neck was the hated face of Helseth. His lips moved and I wondered what abominable lie they were shaping now. Oddly enough, he seemed to be saying, “Mother.”

Here Ends Chapter 6

[The Metal Mallet]

Ahhhhh!!! You are too cruel Trey! This has been the most gripping cliffie I have ever read! I need more!

This chapter has been quite inspiring, the Mournhold plot is reaching it's near climax, I can't wait for the bad stuff to go down.

I'll be dying until your next post.

Great work!

[jack cloudy]

NOOOOO!!!! Dragon Skin and Almsivi Intervention. There's still a way out. Don't give up!

Ahem, this is one hell of a cliffhanger indeed. And I knew that these Fabricant thingies weren't Dwemer. Good job.

[Wolfie]

NOOOOOOO!
ALthough it was a tad foolish to just blithely attack him with so many guards about the place...