The Story of Trey - Chapter 3 Options

[treydog]

Chapter 3

What did it matter where you lay once you were dead? In a dirty sump or in a marble tower on top of a high hill? You were dead, you were sleeping the big sleep…. You just slept the big sleep, not caring about the nastiness of how you died or where you fell.

Raymond Chandler, The Big Sleep


As I staggered out of the teleport area of the Caldera Mages Guild, waiting for my stomach to catch up, I looked the place over. The building's interior reminded me of High Rock- hardwood floors and plaster walls. Before I had gone five steps, an intense-looking Dunmer wizard named Folms Mirel stopped me and asked if I would be interested in doing some work for him. He looked like the sort who should be working in some underground laboratory, with electricity crackling, full of vapors and creatures in jars. But the word "work" was music to my ears. He had been researching something called "propylon indices" and believed he had discovered a way to create a "Master Index." That was all very interesting, but what in Oblivion was a "propylon index?" It seemed that the ancient Dunmer had created a means of traveling from one of their strongholds to another, using an artifact called a propylon index, keyed to the specific propylon chamber they wished to reach. There were ten of those strongholds still standing on the island of Morrowind and the Master Index would enable one to travel to any of the ten. Mirel was so certain of success that he was willing to pay 500 drakes for each index I brought him. Best of all, he was interested in the experiment for the pure science- once the Master Index was complete, he would give it to me and provide the magic required to power my travel from stronghold to stronghold. That sounded like a great bargain, which made me instantly suspicious. Although I figured there must be a catch, I needed the money so badly I agreed to the proposition.

Mirel was pleased by my agreement and told me that the first index, the Hlormaren, was right there in Caldera. Irgola the Pawnbroker had it. The indices did not display any sign of enchantment, so a Detection spell would not identify it. He described it as a small, grayish stone. After getting directions to Irgola's, I left the Mages Guild and took a look around Caldera. Like Pelegiad, it reminded me of home- stone and timber buildings with thatched roofs, a stone wall that was more decorative than protective, cobbled streets. And, like Pelegiad, it contained a large number of Imperial soldiers. Perhaps this wouldn't be such a good base, after all. Curious about the presence of so many guards in a town that didn't have a fort nearby, I asked an Argonian what made Caldera so important. He summed it up in one word, "Ebony." One of the richest ebony mines ever discovered was located just over the mountains south of town, and the Empire wanted to protect their interest. Ebony was heavy, used for making high-quality weapons and armor, and expensive. The guards were there to ensure that nobody got sticky fingers. Thus enlightened, I went to visit Irgola, hoping he wouldn't have any idea of the value of the propylon index. Another lesson for future reference- pawnbrokers almost always know exactly what something is worth. They wouldn't stay in business, otherwise. Worse yet, the shop had its very own Imperial guard. And worst of all, the index was on a windowsill right beside Irgola. If I wanted to "shop at a 100% discount," I would have to walk right past him and lift the item from under his nose. Getting caught would lose me the 500 gold and the dingus. No, I was going to have to negotiate.

I quickly concluded that Mirel himself must have attempted to get the index from Irgola. And if he had, he had managed to make the pawnbroker suspicious and aware that the item had value. He actually wanted more than 500 drakes for it. With no other choice, I trudged back to the Mages Guild, where I could get better prices, and converted some of my better potions into cash. I hated to part with them; they were mostly gifts from Ajira, but there didn't seem to be much choice. After paying Irgola's price, I brought the index back to Mirel, who paid me the promised 500. This moneymaking venture was going about as well as my others- I was down about 70 drakes. And the experience highlighted a weakness in my training and knowledge. My stealth skills were simply not good enough to lift an item while the owner was watching. What I needed was some sort of Illusion magic to improve my ability to remain unnoticed while going about my business. Although Illusion wasn't one of my better schools, my Breton heritage gave me some natural ability with all magic. Therefore, I needed to ask around and see if anyone in Caldera could teach me some concealment spells. There, my luck took a turn for the better. Eraamion could teach either Brevasa's Averted Eyes or Golanar's Eye-Maze. The first was a little cheaper, but was also an invisibility spell- it would dissipate as soon as I took an action other than movement. Golanar's was a Chameleon spell, just what I wanted.

My skills needed some work; maybe I could go just outside of Caldera and practice my new Illusion spell. If I combined the Chameleon spell with my natural stealth, I could stalk some scribs or something. It might look silly, but looking silly was better than what would happen if I failed attempting to sneak up on some dangerous beast. Besides, this close to a town, what could go wrong? Surely all those Imperial guards had kept the wildlife under control. Right there, I made two mistakes. First, never, never, never ask, "what could go wrong," unless you are anxious to find out; second, never assume that guards are good for anything except eating pastries and giving an honest thief a hard time. Oh, and a bonus third error, don't assume that "civilization" means the same thing on Morrowind as it does elsewhere in the Empire.

I wandered a hundred yards or so out of Caldera, working my way northeast. Once I got near the ridge, I cast Beggars Nose to identify likely targets for practicing my stealth. I expected to turn up a few scribs and maybe a kwama forager. As I got closer to the mountains, I began to hear an annoying "skreee-eee" sound. Whatever was making it, there seemed to be several of them- the sound was coming from all around me. "Oh well," I thought, "probably just some sort of carrion bird like a vulture. Nasty creatures, but hardly a threat." Just then something came flapping and screeching down the mountainside and began to batter me with wings, beak, and tail. I caught a glimpse of a 4-winged nightmare with leathery, scaly skin and a hammerhead. And the smell.... it was a terrible odor of some animal left dead for weeks in the sun. The stench almost gave me more trouble than the club-like appendage at the end of the tail. I finally got my shield and sword up and began to fight back. It was difficult to strike effectively, as the flying fiend swooped in and darted up and out of reach. Finally, I damaged the wings enough to bring it down and finish it. Able to examine the corpse, I recognized that this was the infamous cliff-racer, a disgusting pest that infested the mountainous areas of Vvardenfell. As I recovered from that battle, I heard the unmistakable growl of a nix-hound galloping up behind me. Then came another pair of cliff-racers. In spite of the seemingly endless attacks, I had the presence of mind to cast Soul Trap on a couple of the cliff-racers. The idea of using the life-essence of those loathsome beasts to power my enchantments gave me a deep satisfaction. It was almost with relief that I saw a doorway built into the cliff-face. The markings indicated that it was the Indalen Tomb. Whatever was in there couldn't be any worse than the constant attacks coming at me from all sides out here. I plunged into the welcoming darkness of the tomb.

Gathering my wits, I cast my detection spell to see what might be sharing the tomb with me. The spell indicated at least three enchantments, as well as three creatures. The otherworldly inhabitants of the tomb didn't seem to appreciate the intrusion of the living- they whispered and howled around me as I moved deeper. It was almost enough to drive me back outside to the cliff-racers, but the lure of those enchanted items drew me onward. The first chamber contained a number of ingredients, apparently left to nourish and placate the spirits of the ancestors. There was also a minor potion and a magic absorption scroll. The final enchantment was a ring called a Sparkbolt that allowed the user to do minor electrical damage to an opponent. I should have stopped there, happy with the ingredients and items, but I decided to push deeper into the tomb to discover what creatures inhabited the last few chambers. On the other side of a locked door was a Scamp- the least of the daedra that Tamrielic summoners conjured from the Plane of Oblivion. I managed to surprise this one and had no trouble dispatching him. The same was true of a second Scamp, resident of another chamber. The last creature nearly made me a permanent resident of the tomb, though. As I entered that final room, a monstrous shape shuffled toward me. It appeared roughly human, but grotesquely malformed, as if someone with no idea of anatomy had hastily stitched the parts together. Bones poked through flesh and openings gaped in the limbs and torso. I was so revolted; I almost didn't remember to defend myself. I have always been particularly afraid of undead; surely this was one of that cursed family of constructs. The beast hit me and I felt my strength and stamina drain away. I was going to have to win quickly or I would be unable to move. Fortunately, the Bonewalker, for such it was, moved slowly due to the way it was made. A rapid series of strokes with the sword caused the vile creature to disappear, leaving only a pile of bonemeal. I later learned that I had been fortunate to not catch a disease from the attack; my damaged attributes recovered in a short time. This expedition had not worked out at all as I had intended. It was time to get back to town and consider what I should do next.

Returning to Caldera, I asked Mirel about the next index. This time, it sounded a bit better; the Marandus index had been packed up with a lot of junk and stored in the St. Olms Temple at Vivec City. A trip to Vivec made sense; several of the pilgrimage shrines for the Tribunal Temple were located there. I might as well do the pilgrimages- I needed all the help I could get- even from gods I wasn't sure I believed in. Feeling that a city would be safer than the wilderness, I prepared for my foray to Vivec. It should be simple enough to find the Marandus index. After all, how big could the place be?

[McBadgere]

Properly brilliant!!...

Love the chapter headings!!...Whichever side of the iron curtain - oh wait, that's not there any more is it?...Apparently...*Cough*... - Um...Oh yeah, heading over there to retrieve a long-lost bud is something best left for The A-Team...Oh wait, without Trey you don't get the A&A(and A )-Team do you... ...

Well done soldier!!!...*Pats back/Pins medal/Shakes hand*...*Counts exactly how many hands he's got*...Hmmmm...

Aaaamywho...Loved this muchly!!...

Nice one...

*Applauds heartily*...

[hazmick]

After all, how big could the place be?

oh dear. That's right up there with "It can't get any worse" and "I wonder what's over there" in the 'things adventurers should never say' section of adventuring 101.

An exciting start to the new chapter! Cliff racers, undead, pawnbrokers, and now onto Vivec - the most confusing tangle of walkways and streets in Morrowind.

[treydog]

@McBadgere- Yes, when shaking hands with Trey, it’s always a good idea to count your fingers- as well as small valuables- afterwards…. One of the joys of going back to this is that Trey had no concept of what is actual future would be… he was just trying to make sure there would be one… Thank you, my friend.

@hazmick- Yep. Trey never learns to not ask those rhetorical questions… Vivec City nearly drove me to despair as a player. Since I was on PC, I often “cheated” by turning the clipping off, just so I could levitate to the place I needed to be. The thing about the Master Index quest line… it was actually an early add-on, when Bethesda was still getting the hang of the whole “plug-in” concept. But, given Trey’s aversion to the silt striders, a different mode of fast travel fit perfectly.

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Anxious to earn an easier 500 septims, I had the Caldera guild guide send me to the Vivec Mages Guild. While I waited for my stomach to settle, I introduced myself to the Vivec guild guide and asked about the city. She said her name was Flacassia Fauscius. I almost said, "I'm sorry, " but stopped in time. She mentioned that seven people had been murdered recently, including two "Ordinators," whatever those were. Wonderful- my first visit to the city and someone decides to go on a killing spree. She also warned me that Trebonius, the Archmage, wasn't exactly rowing with both oars in the water. He had recently asked her to do a complete inventory of all the plates and cups- in Vvardenfell. It sounded as if I would do well to avoid the old fellow if possible. The last thing I needed was to be sent chasing across the continent looking for Uriel Septim's lost pickle fork. She also tried to explain the size of the holy city to me, but I didn't grasp what she meant until I stepped outside the Foreign Quarter plaza. All the talk about "multi-level cantons" didn't begin to convey the sheer majesty of the city. I won't even attempt to describe the stonework or the magnificence of the architecture. If you haven't seen Vivec, no words of mine can paint an adequate picture. I wanted to be able to fly high above the city so I could take it all in. As I stood there, frankly gawking like a tourist from the backwoods, I found out what an Ordinator was. A Dunmer, wearing a set of purple and gold armor, complete with a gold-colored full-face mask, urged me to "move along" in a raspy voice. Ah, an Ordinator was a guard, then. Guards I understood, even if they did wrap themselves in religious trappings. Still, he had a point; I needed to get moving, and I didn't need to act like a tourist.

I decided that my first stop should be the St. Olms Temple, which was supposed to be somewhat south of the Foreign Quarter. After a few wrong turns, I got the hang of the city's system of covered ramps and walkways and made my way to the St. Olms canton in a short time. Now all I had to do was find the St. Olms Temple and its storage rooms. Logic and experience told me that, in a religious city, a temple would be as high up as possible. With that in mind, I began to look for ramps leading upward. I circled and climbed until my head was spinning and my legs were on fire, but I finally reached the top level, or "plaza," as it was called. If this province had any athletes, I was willing to bet they did their endurance training in Vivec. The interior of the plaza included some nice gardens, but I remembered my last experience with city gardens and kept my hands in my pockets. The temple was easy to identify and I walked in. There was the usual ceremonial ash pit and some wall hangings, which seemed to illustrate various important events in Dunmer religious history. No one was around, so I opened a door, which revealed a stairway leading down. A basement seemed like a probable place for the temple to store their odds and ends, so I descended. The hall at the foot of the steps had a locked door on the right, as well as left and right passages farther along. The locked door yielded to my ministrations and I found myself in a reading room. The books were largely copies of titles I already possessed and, to be honest, it would have felt odd to steal religious works from a temple.

I left the reading room as I had found it and moved down the central hall. A bedroom and a workroom opened off of the hall, which then ended in an alcove with two locked doors facing each other. My pick did its work and the doors were no longer locked. The left door opened onto a small storeroom, complete with a resident rat, which I quickly turned into rat sausage. I went through all the boxes, bags and barrels without finding anything resembling a propylon index. I did rescue the miscellaneous ingredients and the 5 drakes I discovered- fearing that they might fall prey to marauding rats. It didn't seem like too much for an extermination fee. And I earned the fee, for there were more rats. The opposite door opened to reveal a larger storeroom with two of the disgusting rodents. They quickly joined their defunct brother at the great cheese-fest in the sky, and I had the room to myself. I went through more boxes, bags, and barrels to no avail. There did not seem to be a propylon index here, either. Maybe I had misunderstood, and the whatsis was in the St. Olms canton storage, instead of Temple storage. But no, I checked my journal, and it clearly stated "St. Olms Temple." Just then, I spotted a small gray object carelessly tossed between two crates. Yes, it was the Marandus index, my 500-drake needle in a haystack. Leaving St. Olms as quietly as I entered, I pondered my next move.

I could rush back to Caldera and collect my fee, or I could explore Vivec. As I put the propylon index away, I encountered a square bulk in my pack. Curious, I pulled out a book- The Pilgrim's Path, given to me by the Tribunal Temple. Having just robbed one temple, I decided that atonement might be in order and so looked up the shrines and devotions that could be performed in Vivec. There were three, almost half of the seven total, so I resolved to complete all three before going back to Caldera. The first pilgrimage consisted of donating 100 drakes at the Shrine of Generosity, which was situated at the top of the steps of Vivec's Palace. I managed to find the palace without difficulty and read the inscription on the shrine. Although I didn't really want to part with 100 drakes, it seemed like a good idea to get whatever blessings I could. As the gold magically disappeared from in front of the shrine (a neat trick I would have loved to have figured out), I felt a momentary chill. As it passed, I realized that my luck was better and that my trading skills were improved. Although the effects might be temporary, they might also help me recover the expense. The next shrine was also supposed to be located somewhere in Vivec's Palace, but was not out in the open. It was called the Shrine of Courtesy and was in something called the Puzzle Canal.

According to The Pilgrim's Path, the shrine was "At the heart of the Puzzle Canal beneath Vivec's Palace." Apparently, this Puzzle Canal was a maze of some sort- the book even mentioned that it would be wise to carry an Almsivi scroll to get out. That was one possibility- but it wouldn't take me to the shrine. Before diving in, I decided to think about a faster way to find the place. The Palace sat atop a canton of some five stories, the highest being the actual Palace. The "heart of the Puzzle Canal...." Another word for "heart" might be "center," and it was likely that the shrine was located at the North-South and East-West center, but might it also be at the vertical center? If that were true, I should enter the third level of the canton. Each level was ringed by a shallow canal, with large vertical gratings from which water flowed. I climbed over the side of the stairway into the third level canal and examined the first grate. It appeared that a small, slippery person could get through, and so I did. I found myself under water and swam upward into an interior waterway about five paces across. A ramp had been provided to allow access to the walkways on either side. As I stood there dripping and considering what to do next, I was jumped by a rat. What was it with these temples and the rats? Didn't they ever clean the basements? The passage ran north and south, with an opening in the east wall. As there was nothing in this passage, I headed down the east opening.
Sure enough, there was a grating halfway down that led into the center of the canton. Again, I came out underwater, but this time in a large, high-ceiling chamber. In the center was a flat-topped structure with steps mounting three sides. Climbing the stairs, I discovered a walkway with a shrine at the end.

Congratulating myself on my cleverness at circumventing the tediousness of navigating the maze, I approached the triolith, which I had found out was the fancy name for the structure of the shrines.
The inscription read, "Breathe the Waters of His Glory and the Way is Made Clear." Well, that was cryptic enough. What was I supposed to donate- a potion of Water Breathing? I opened The Pilgrim's Path to see if it provided any clue. The book stated: "The Dremora Krazzt is found in the center of the Puzzle Canal, and will accept a plain silver longsword if spoken to with courtesy. After Krazzt accepts the sword, pilgrims must read the inscription on the triolith." I didn't see a Dremora anywhere, or anyone else, for that matter. I also didn't have a silver longsword. Maybe that was the problem; the Dremora only appeared if the pilgrim had the sword. I needed to learn to read more closely before rushing off in all directions. Still pondering what to do, I turned back the way I had come and noticed an opening in the wall opposite the walkway to the shrine. There was no bridge to the opening- it was some eight paces up the wall. I happened to have a weak levitation potion that I had concocted; it should be enough to get me over to the wall. There was an odd mist that seemed to swirl across the opening; I supposed it was there to enhance the "spiritual" feel of the place. When I floated up though, I found that the mist barrier could not be penetrated. I tried several times at different points; in fact, I became so engrossed in the problem that I forgot I was levitating- at least until the potion wore off and dumped me unceremoniously in several feet of water. As I surfaced, shaking my head and coughing, the words of the inscription came back to me- "Breathe the Waters of His Glory... Breathe the...." Surely not! They didn't honestly expect me to drown myself, did they? Oh, sure, I had threatened to drown myself when I was frustrated, but that was just a figure of speech.

On the other hand, these were religious types- they tended to place a high value on "tests of faith"- which generally meant doing something no sane person would do. Like walking through a fire, or jumping off a cliff, or...drowning yourself. I suppose I could have just cast my Recall spell and gone back to my little room in the Balmora Mages Guild. But I was stubborn. And maybe not always terribly smart. With an oath instead of a prayer, I expelled my breath and plunged my head under the water.

[hazmick]

Didn't have Trey down as the religious type, but when in Vivec...

Speaking of which, I'm glad he didn't get too lost. Haa-Rei spent hours wandering around on his first visit before he found the right ramp.

Good luck with the...er...drowning...

[treydog]

@hazmick- Trey has a... contradictory... view of religion. As much as he despises authority, he has a longing for something to give order to the universe. And he is also fascinated by the unseen and unknowable- it gives him an itch that he has to try and scratch- no matter the cost. The thing about the Tribunal versus the Daedra Princes and the Imperial Cult (with one or two notable exceptions) is that the Tribunal are actually more accessible and more active. He can pretend that he is "just doing research" or "just trying to fit in," but there is more to his pilgrimage than simple method-acting...

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If anyone ever tries to tell you that drowning is a peaceful, relatively painless death, politely tell that person to go see for themselves and then get back to you. For one thing, it is incredibly hard to drown voluntarily. Your body does not grasp that there is this “quest” you are on and well, you need to breath in a lungful of water. Also, unless you are an Argonian, you are not adapted to inhaling water. It burns, it hurts; it is altogether unpleasant. I know all this because I experienced it in the center of the Puzzle Canal. As my air ran out and I fought the overwhelming impulse to claw my way to the surface, red flashes appeared behind my eyes and my chest spasmed with the simultaneous effort to breathe and not breathe. Finally, the struggle was over. Just as I passed out, there appeared a bright flash of light and a peal of thunder rolled overhead. I found myself floating, unharmed in the Puzzle Canal pool. There was one major difference, though; where there had been a gap before, now a walkway led from the triolith to the opening in the wall. And the misty curtain blocking the opening had also cleared. I wasted no time climbing the shrine platform and turning to view the new bridge. Never in my short life had I experienced a miracle; even the other effects I had seen from shrines could be explained in terms of magical fakery. This was something else, but exactly what, I did not know. I hastened across the bridge to the chamber now revealed. A set of steps rose to another platform, similar to the one in the Puzzle Canal.

At that point, I again had to wonder if my lack of a silver longsword was going to prevent me from completing this pilgrimage. I wasn't sure if I could stand to drown myself again, even knowing that I would be saved. Or perhaps I wouldn't be saved a second time- gods are notoriously fickle and particular. Nevertheless, I decided to at least find out what my "death" had bought me. At the top of the steps stood a demonic figure clad in black and red armor. This then, was a Dremora Lord. I had only ever heard of them as scary stories; I hadn't been sure they were real. Yet here one stood, in all his sinister glory, beside a triolith. Also at the top of the platform was a chest. My curiosity may very well be the death of me one day, but I just had to look. The chest wasn't locked, so I opened it to find...four plain silver longswords. In a way, that was almost more miraculous then my near-death experience. It was unheard of for most temples to give anything away, even those that preached charity. Generally, their definition of charity was that everyone else should give what they had- to the temple. Somehow very little ever seemed to come back out. Even though I was a thief, I decided that two miracles of the gods deserved one miracle from me- I only took one sword, and left the other three. Something had kept me from drowning; I just didn't think theft was an appropriate response. And now it was time to see if my luck or blessing or whatever it was still held. I approached the Dremora Lord.

Powerful though he clearly was, Krazzt was a melancholy sort of demon. With a long-suffering look on his face, he said, "I take it the silver longsword is for me." When I agreed that this was so, he made the following speech, in the manner of one who has recited the same lesson thousands of times:

"As you can see, I am unarmed. But you are brave and gallant. Will you give me your longsword so that I may stand a chance against your might?"

When I passed over the sword, he continued in the same bored tone: "I accept. You have shown the grace of courtesy.... You should read the inscription on the shrine."

I did as the lugubrious Dremora asked and again felt a chill that seemed to emanate from within me. When it had passed, I sensed that I had been blessed with the powers of water-breathing and swift-swimming. Still not certain of Krazzt's goodwill, particularly now that he was armed with a longsword, I cast Almsivi Intervention and returned to the Temple canton. My final stop in Vivec was the shrine named "To Stop the Moon," which commemorated Lord Vivec's feat of preventing one of the moons of Tamriel from being hurled into the holy city. The proof of this deed was that the moon still floated above the Temple canton. The pilgrimage to this shrine was called the "Grace of Daring." The inscription read, in part, "...fortune favors the bold," a sentiment I rather liked. I donated a Rising Force potion and was blessed with a powerful Levitate effect. At last, it was time to go back to Caldera to drop off the Marandus index and collect my reward. I cast Recall to take me back to Balmora, where I settled into "my" room to think.

The field trip outside Caldera and the visit to Vivec had taught me some sobering facts- chief among them that I was not ready to face many of the dangers of Morrowind. Seeing Krazzt the Dremora Lord was frightening; he not only could kill me with minimal effort- he would have, given the chance. He was captive to the geas Vivec had placed upon him, but there were other Daedra who were not constrained. And the Dark Brotherhood was still out there- they were unlikely to give up after one failed attempt. I was simply going to have to concentrate on improving my skills if I was to survive. So I gathered supplies, repaired my equipment, and set out into the wilderness, determined to gain the necessary experience. Of that time, I will say little, except to note that it consisted of long periods of boredom interrupted by seconds of sheer terror, and that I survived it all. I returned stronger, wiser, and more able to cope with Vvardenfell and its myriad perils. The question now became what to do with my hard-won skills. I could continue as I had, drifting from job to job, engaging in petty thievery when nothing else offered, or I could aim for something better.

One episode I will mention in passing, not so much because it is important in the greater scheme of things, but because it was personally significant. After my time of testing and growth, I paid a visit to Seyda Neen and had a long talk with Hrisskar. I explained to him that being a corrupt, thieving, bullying guard was a bad thing. In the end, I'm certain he understood me. The last I heard, he had developed a fondness for soup and soft foods and retired to Skyrim.

[treydog]

Since arriving in Morrowind, I had been pushed, insulted, and attacked. And for a while, I had taken it; fighting back when I could. But mostly I had run. I had left Seyda Neen rather than face Hrisskar; I had allowed fear of the Camonna Tong and the Empire to push me out of Balmora. If I continued this way, I would have nowhere left to run, except for some cave in the hills. That was one choice, but it wasn't the only one. Instead of running, I could make myself stronger and face my attackers. Some problems were simple and could be dealt with simply- like Hrisskar. Other problems, like the Empire, were far more complex. Even assuming I could get to the Emperor and give him a thrashing, that wouldn't solve my problems. The Emperor was NOT the Empire. Although his words were law and people lived or died at his whim, the Empire was a vast apparatus of functionaries and soldiers, priests and spies. The best I could hope for from the Empire was a truce- an agreement that they would leave me alone. But a truce is a bargain- each side has something the other wants, and is willing to deal. As things stood, the Empire held all the cards; they knew something about me that made me of interest to them. And rather than simply slip a knife between my ribs, the Emperor had personally sent me here and recruited me into his spy network, the Blades. Why? I only knew one person who could answer my questions and that was Caius Cosades.

Other circumstances pushed me into a second meeting with the spymaster, as well. When I had returned to Balmora after my experiences in Vivec, I had given a great deal of thought to the Tribunal Temple. I had "joined" the Temple for mercenary reasons; I needed access to spells and services only they could provide. But something had happened there in the Puzzle Canal and, for the first time in my life, I was thinking seriously about religion. While I was working on improving my skills, I had considered ways to find out more about the Temple. The obvious answer, to ask the priests themselves, I discarded immediately. Ask any established religious institution for their views on religion in general and they will agree that, yes, there are many faiths, but all the others are wrong. What I needed was an outsider's opinion, preferably from someone who could view religion impartially. The Mages Guild had no interest in religion; they cared only about magic. Next, I considered the Thieves Guild- they traded in information and tried to stay attuned to the power structure wherever they were. My reasoning up to that point was correct; my choice of informant could have been better. I needed someone who didn't have an axe to grind with the Temple, and I should have remembered how the Dunmer viewed Khajiit and Argonians.

Sugar-Lips was not amused by my question. She flattened her ears and bristled,

"Sugar-Lips has no time for foolish questions about the dark elves. The dark elves think Khajiit are animals with no intelligence, fit only to grub in the fields or labor in the mines. And besides, the Camonna Tong presses us harder each day. Their people walk free, thanks to the bribes they pay, while Sugar-Lips' friends rot in jail. If Trey wants to ask foolish questions, let him ask one who knows. It is said Caius Cosades collects information about the dark elf religion; let Trey ask him."

I hadn't realized the enormous strain the secret war with the Camonna Tong was having on the Thieves Guild, but I should have. After all, to whom could the Guild complain? They couldn't very well go to the Imperial Legion and ask for help with their illegal operations. The Camonna Tong, on the other hand, had powerful friends to assist them whenever necessary. The Thieves Guild was barely hanging on, and might not survive the struggle. Captain Larrius Varro's "little story" took on a new meaning. Perhaps I would have to look into that situation, after all. But for now, it appeared that all roads took me to Caius Cosades' door. I had probably known all along that I couldn't avoid him forever, but I had enjoyed the illusion of freedom. Maybe the spymaster would answer my questions, but I had a feeling he would want something in return. The only real question was how high a price he would demand.

Caius didn't appear to have given much thought to my long absence. Either the skooma had affected his sense of time, or he had anticipated my rebellion. I had a fairly good idea which it was. When he asked me if I was ready for some orders, I said,

"If I can get some answers."

Caius bluntly replied, "Depends on the questions. You ask and I'll decided if you can have the answers."

Since that was as good a deal as I was likely to get, I agreed and explained that I was curious about the Dunmer religious beliefs. Caius' smile was more frightening than his scowl.

"Funny you should ask. The Emperor needs to know more about a couple of secret Dunmer cults, the Sixth House and the Nerevarine Cult. Talk to Hasphat Antabolis at the Balmora Fighters Guild and ask what he knows about these cults. He'll probably ask you to do a favor for him first, and it will probably be dangerous or illegal, or both. Do it anyway and report back to me with the information." He paused a moment, and then added,

"Hasphat is a student of Morrowind history; it wouldn't hurt to ask him your questions. You can also read some of the books I have here. Now beat it and get to work."

I left Caius' place and made my way across the Odai to the Fighters Guild. I had passed the building with its unmistakable shield placard numerous times (it was next door to the Mages Guild), but never gone in. As I have said, I didn't completely trust the Fighters Guild's choice of clients- it struck me that they were willing to do anything for money. If it had all been straight "go-kill-the-dangerous-beast" jobs, I might have been willing. But sometimes, the "dangerous beast" someone wanted dead was a person in my line of work. Even if the target was a complete blackguard, it seemed hypocritical of me to take money for killing him. What I did on my own time and for my own reasons was a different matter- but I wouldn't become a killer-for-hire. Finding Hasphat proved simple enough; he was working in a training room in the basement of the Guild hall. As Caius had predicted, the fighter/scholar wanted to make a deal for his information. And I was going to be the lucky winner.

"There's a Dwemer ruin called Arkngthand nearby," Hasphat told me. "Go in there and find me a Dwemer Puzzle Box. I want to study one." He then went on to explain that the box was a coppery metal cube about the size of a fist, with different inscriptions on a couple of the faces. He also let me know that possession of Dwemer artifacts was considered a crime- all such material was the property of the Empire. I appreciated his blunt honesty, but what was the worst they could do- throw me in prison and exile me to some gods forsaken island? Besides, I had no intention of waving any Dwemer artifacts around at the guards. I had a couple of buyers in mind if I came across anything other than the box Hasphat wanted.

Finding Arkngthand was easy enough; it was just a little west of Fort Moonmoth. As I cracked my jaws trying to pronounce the name of the place, I decided that the Dwemer died out because they twisted their tongues so badly with their language that they couldn't eat. While crossing the metal bridge, I spotted an Imperial with a couple of two-wheel carts and some crates and barrels at the end nearest the ruin. "Odd place for a peddler," I thought, "This doesn't really strike me as a tourist attraction." About then, the old man shouted a curse and began waving his hands in front of him. With expert judgment, I deduced what he was up to and looked around for the cliff-racer that was surely about to attack the both of us. Unfortunately, my lightning thought process turned out to be mistaken, as a summoned skeletal warrior appeared in front of the man and ran toward me, sword extended. Not content with that, the battlemage cast a fire-based spell at me for good measure. Why was it that every wizard I faced seemed to have a stock of elemental damage spells- the kind my resistance didn't affect? I wasn't helpless though, so I concentrated my attack on the mage, knowing his summoning would dissipate if he were killed. As the fight reached close quarters, he pulled out an axe and did his best to split me in two. My sword practice while I had been in the wilderness proved beneficial, and the mage fell quickly. His skeletal helper vanished in a puff of smoke and I had the bridge to myself.

Before proceeding, I decided to see what would cause this fellow to attack a stranger on sight. The boxes and barrels revealed a few weapons, and most significant, some gems and Dwemer artifacts. That explained it- I had walked up on a smuggler loading up his goods and he took exception to being caught. Given half a chance, I would have told him my philosophy was that everyone had to make a living. His decision to attack first had made negotiations impossible. As I said earlier, I had grown tired of being pushed. Hereafter, anyone who attacked me would receive payment in kind. Among other things, Morrowind had burned any misplaced sense of mercy right out of me. When you are strong and safe, mercy is a luxury you can afford. When you are hemmed and harried on all sides, the only answer is to fight back. And I would always fight to win.

[McBadgere]

Excellent!!...

Very much enjoyed the trip through Vivec...It must look awesome in the game!... ...

Though all those levels must get a little confusing... ...

I love the way you left out all the other "Levelling" adventures... ...Because I could have done that...Honest, yes I could... ...

*Nose grows*... ....

Ah, Dwemer ruins...Those were much fun in Skyrim...Interested to read what they're like in Morrowind... ...

Very much looking forward to the next multitudes...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[hazmick]

So Trey is back in Balmora for the time being. There are worse places to be. Helping old Caius seems seems like a good plan for now, and it won't be boring.

Dwemer ruins? Very exciting stuff, and a personal favourite of mine. Hope Trey manages to have fun whilst exploring.

This post has been edited by hazmick: Jun 23 2015, 04:51 PM

[treydog]

@McBadgere- Vivec City is really quite something, even all these years later. It did nearly drive me to despair that first time, with the walkways and levels and etc. This will be Trey’s first experience of a Dwemer ruin, so it will have an effect upon him…

@hazmick- There is something about Balmora, even though it is a Hlaalu city, that draws Trey back. Possibly it is the compactness- or maybe the greenery- or possibly the lack of many Imperials….

Where we are- Trey has decided he really can't afford to ignore his forced recruitment into the Blades (especially with the Dark Brotherhood trying to stick knives into him) and has gone back to his "handler" for instructions. Caius wants Trey to investigate the Sixth House Cult and the Nerevarine Prophecies. There are people who can help, but nothing comes without a price, so Trey is going to investigate the Dwemer ruin of Arknghthand, seeking something called a "puzzle box."

As ever, many thanks for reading...

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I should have known it wouldn't be as easy as just walking down to the corner club for a drink- if getting the puzzle box was simple, Hasphat would have done it himself. The crank to open the door was right where it was supposed to be, on a post just to the left of the path. The door to Arkngthand opened with a rumble and a hiss, like some huge valve. The interior showed signs of great upheavals in the earth; walkways made of almost indestructible Dwemer metal ended abruptly in mid-air, but ramps constructed of earth and stone provided a means of access. Somewhat shaken by my encounter with the looter outside, I decided sneaking would be a wise course to take. Soon enough, I rounded a bend and saw a two-level gallery, open on the side facing me. There was also a tunnel off to the right about halfway down the stone ramp, but I focused on the two men working around some crates in the gallery. Suspicious though I was of their reason for being in the ruin, I was still willing to let them make the first move. That generous spirit may get me killed one day, but I refuse to take the first shot at another human being. My good nature was rewarded as it usually was- the first looter spotted me, drew a dagger, and ran toward me. Just because I was willing to be friends didn't mean I wasn't prepared- I got a couple of arrows into him before he closed with me. My sword again proved its value against shorter weapons, and the first bandit died quickly. His partner, just noticing the commotion, made the same fatal error of trying to match a dagger against a sword. You can win such a contest, provided you use the element of surprise. If you are going to just run out yelling and waving the dagger around- well, that's as good a way to commit suicide as any.

Thinking that "higher usually means richer," I climbed to the second level of the gallery. It was then that I became aware of the constant banging and clanking that echoed through the ruin. It was unnerving to realize that some of the machines left untended for so long were still functioning. Who could tell what those devices were supposed to do? And who knew if one of them would suddenly give way, spewing a toxic vapor into the air? The whole place was a giant tomb- it just didn't know that the owners were dead. Or perhaps it did, and all those rattles and bangs were some weird form of mechanical mourning. And maybe I needed to read different books at night if I wanted to stay in my chosen profession. I searched the upper gallery and found a few trinkets, as well as some massive Dwemer furniture. At first, it seemed that they only worked in metal, but then I realized that any wood or fabric would have long since rotted away. Only the metals were tough enough to resist the slow passage of time. A circular hatchway, upon which someone had scrawled "Cells of Hollow Hand," apparently a translation of the Dwemer, opened at the left side of the gallery. As there was no choice but to go on or go back, I opened the door.

A short hall led into a room filled with crates, metal desks, and pipes. And also a large Imperial, waving a large axe and threatening me with severe bodily harm. A person could get really tired of this after a while. All I wanted was the puzzle box- these guys could go about their illegal activities and I wouldn't say a word. But for some reason, every criminal I encountered seemed to think I was the Imperial Tax Man. To tell the truth, it made me wonder about my career path. Were all criminals terminally stupid? Or maybe these guys were just killers as well as smugglers and thieves. Hasphat had said that the penalty for smuggling Dwemer artifacts was death. Meanwhile, the yelling, axe-waving Imperial had gotten close enough to bash me with his weapon. Even though the Dark Brotherhood armor kept the edge from cutting me, the sheer impact was powerful enough that I wondered if I had some broken bones in my shield-arm. Note to self- consider the reasons criminals turn from theft to murder AFTER you prevent said criminals from killing you.

The ring-mail my opponent was wearing gave me some trouble; it prevented me from getting any good cuts to the torso. However, the electrical damage from each successful hit still got through and caused him to flinch. I was finally able to make a killing strike to his unprotected neck, and stopped to heal myself before investigating further. This looter was carrying substantially more gear than the other two; I had a feeling he was the head man of this little gang. Soon enough, I got confirmation; among the scrolls, potions, and Dwemer artifacts were some papers that identified the dead man as "Boss" Crito. You can always tell a small-timer by the title or name he gives himself. Real leaders of criminal organizations have names given to them by their people or their enemies. And usually, the names are misleading- like calling the biggest guy in the place "Tiny." So when you come across a guy who says he is "The Most Dread High Omnipotent Stomper," he probably has a job sweeping up. So a "boss" this Crito may have been, but he was boss of a garbage detail, at best.

Knowing that the top man would want to keep a close eye on all the best loot, I gave the room a careful search. There were plenty of Dwemer cups, bowls, and pitchers, all nicely crated up and no doubt waiting to be loaded on the carts outside. In fact, there was more than I could carry, even with my light armor and minimal gear. But best of all, I spotted a small, coppery cube on the bottom of a shelf in the corner. That was the only Dwemer item that really mattered to me. I gathered a good sampling of the other stuff- just because I was officially working for the Empire didn't mean I had stopped working for myself- and decided to use Almsivi Intervention to get back to Balmora. It was quicker, I could carry more loot, and I needed to practice my Mysticism. After my stomach stopped trying to climb out of my throat, I dropped all the goods except the puzzle box in a dark corner of the Temple courtyard and went to see Hasphat.

The Fighters trainer was really pleased with the little cube; he kept turning it over and over in his hands as he talked. He was like a child with a new toy, one he's seen but never thought to own. He talked about how the puzzle boxes were usually designed to serve some purpose other than decoration; the inscriptions on this one seemed to indicate it was a key of some sort, perhaps to a deeper level of Arkngthand. Hasphat promised to let me know if he figured it out. Meanwhile, true to his word, he had prepared a report on the Sixth House for Caius. He told me a bit about it when I asked. It seemed that the Sixth House, House Dagoth, had betrayed the other Great Houses during the War of the First Council and was destroyed. Its members were hunted down and killed or else, if they had been loyal, absorbed into other Houses. He then gave me a list of books that contained information on the Sixth House, saying that the bookseller there in Balmora probably had most of them. I had purposely stayed away from the bookseller because I knew my weakness for books- I would either have spent all my gold or tried to steal something if I went in the place. But this seemed almost like an order- even Caius had told me to "learn some history." Maybe I could get the spymaster to pay for the books? Right, and maybe I could fly if I flapped my arms and wished.

When I asked Hasphat about Morrowind history, he gave me his spare copy of "On Morrowind, the Imperial Province." I thanked him and took my leave, planning to read the book and the report on the Sixth House. Since nobody had told me not to, I took a look at the report before going back to Caius. It said basically the same as Hasphat had told me, with the additional information that "the Temple says the ancient, legendary evil beings that dwell beneath Red Mountain in the Dagoth Ur region are the original leaders of this extinct house, sustained by some powerful, evil sorceries." That sounded just wonderful- beings who were supposed to be long dead, sustained by magic. I was glad that this was Caius' problem and not mine. With that cheerful thought, I crossed over to Caius' house to give him the report and collected my reward. He promised to look the report over, but noted that it didn't really say anything about the other matter, the Nerevarine Cult.

"Oh, that," I said. "Hasphat said Sharn gra-Muzgob over at the Mages Guild knew more about that than he did."

Caius mulled that over for a moment, and then said, "She's not too bad for an Orc; she'll probably ask you to run some fool errand. Do what she says and get that report."

When I asked about pay, Caius looked a little surprised; he seemed to think I was doing this out of respect and love for the Emperor or something. Finally, he rummaged around under the bed, saying, "I gave you most of my ready cash when you first got here. Take this; maybe you'll learn something." With that, he handed me "A Short History of Morrowind." If I had known the Blades paid in books, I would have joined a long time ago.

Realizing that there was nothing more for the moment, I headed back to the Mages Guild to do a little reading and maybe talk to Sharn. As I crossed the Odai, a peculiar thing happened. A strange-looking Dunmer accosted me and said,

"I am a Sleeper, one of thousands. I bring you a message, Dagoth Ur calls you, Trey, and you cannot deny your Lord. The Sixth House is risen and Dagoth is its glory."

When I tried to question him, he rambled on about "...the sleeping house, awakened to drive the n'wah from the land." I got the distinct impression that I was one of the "n'wah" that was supposed to be driven. Drugs and drinking can have strange effects on people; I hoped he would get some help.

After all the fighting and lectures and odd encounters, I decided to rest before talking to Sharn. After all, I had a bed right there in the Mages Guild; surely she wouldn't disappear if I took a little nap. Just as I had dropped off to sleep, a vivid and disturbing dream came to me- I was at a party, and a tall figure wearing a golden mask was beside me. The figure was talking to everyone and I realized that they were all dead. When I tried to scream, I had no breath. When I woke up, I decided I was definitely going to have to stop eating pickled kwama eggs before bed. Although I didn't realize it at the time, indigestion was the least of my problems.

[hazmick]

I was glad that this was Caius' problem and not mine.

Oh Trey, when will you learn?

Another good chapter. Loved our hero's thoughts on petty criminals - one would think bandits would try and avoid trouble, but this is never the case. I'm glad Trey is more sensible.

[treydog]

@hazmick- Yes well... Trey's learning curve is steep enough that it is actually a number of degrees past vertical... And the suicidal/homicidal bandits in Morrowind are one of the few real complaints I have about the game. They really should have been given a "flee" script for when they are clearly losing. Ah well- that's what the Construction Set is for....

-----------------------------------------------------------

I awakened after finally sleeping through a night without being attacked by assassins, rats, or anything else. Refreshed, I went looking for Sharn. She was visibly agitated by my approach- but calmed down when I mentioned Caius. Whatever she was working on made her extremely tense. She agreed to provide information, if I would do her a favor first. With a sigh, I asked what she needed. I was getting used to being the errand boy for all of Balmora. She wanted a very specific item, the skull of an enchanter named Llevule Andrano. The skull was supposed to be in the Andrano Ancestral Tomb south of Pelegiad. I wondered what she wanted with the skull, but decided not to ask. After all, why do Orcs do most of the things they do? They are a strange bunch, with odd notions of honor and duty. And when an Orc gets focused on an idea it is easier to stop a boulder rolling down a mountainside. If Sharn's price for the information was some skull, I would go and fetch it. And I have to add that she was generous enough to give me a Fireblade and some scrolls in case I ran into trouble. Of course, her concern was worrisome- if she was willing to throw around those items, what did she know about the tomb? That was the problem with working for others- they never gave the hired help the pleasant jobs. As long as I could remember, I was the one who got to shovel out the stalls while others rode the horses. This was the same song, different verse.

Before leaving town, I decided that I really should make amends with Sugar-Lips at the Thieves Guild. After all, they were the first people to accept me here in Morrowind. So I asked Sugar-Lips if she had any work for me and got another shoveling job. It seems that a rogue Khajiit named Ra'Zhid had made off with some Dwemer artifacts that "belonged" to the Guild. He could be found at Fatleg's Drop Off in Hla Oad. The Thieves mastermind told me, "If he won't give you the artifacts, find them and take them." I was to look for a Dwemer goblet, bowl, and tube. Maybe I wouldn't have to go as far as Hla Oad to find those items; I seemed to remember some Dwemer things lying around a bit closer to home. As a way of solidifying my standing in the Guild, I did a little trading with Sottilde. She didn't have much merchandise and couldn't pay the best prices for what I sold, but the idea was to establish a rapport. With the enemies I was making, I needed whatever friends I could find. Thinking that the artifact quest would be easily accomplished, I headed back up to Arkngthand.

Once inside the ruin, I searched through all the rooms and halls, with mixed success. I found plenty of mugs, goblets, and even several bowls; but there was not a single Dwemer tube to be found. I also found two or three more smugglers, who weren't any smarter than their late colleagues. Yes, I killed them, and no, I don't really want to talk about it. The list of people who had fallen to my weapons was growing longer and I felt their spirits hovering around me every time I tried to sleep. That was just another reason I didn't much like going into tombs. It seemed to me that a lot of what powered religion was belief. That may sound like an obvious remark, but hear me out. The Dunmer believed in ancestor worship and built the Ghostfence with the spirits of departed heroes. And the thing is, it worked. That meant their belief wasn't just faith without a visible result- the results were there for anyone to see. So what would have happened if no one much believed in spirits? Maybe they would have gone on to wherever spirits back in good old High Rock usually went. But here, because of the belief of thousands of people, spirits tended to hang around. And I had been instrumental in creating a good number of spirits who had no reason to wish me well.

I got out of the creepy ruin and made my way down the foyada to the south road. Another reason I wasn't looking forward to messing about in another tomb was that I vividly remembered what had happened in the Indalen Tomb outside of Caldera. Very bad critters tended to populate tombs, and they tended to do very bad things to the people who disturbed them. Besides, I felt kind of sorry for poor old Llevule Andrano; I hoped when I died, people wouldn't be playing around with my head- or any other bits and pieces. The road to Pelegiad was pretty quiet; I only encountered a few rats and mudcrabs, which gave me a chance to practice my archery. The tomb was right where Sharn had said it would be, south of Pelegiad on the right side of the road. I stepped inside and immediately cast Beggars Nose. The detection spell showed me at least six creatures scattered around, as well as three enchanted items. No wonder the Orc sent me instead of leaving her cozy corner of the Mages Guild. Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I headed down the stairs. Have I mentioned recently how much I dislike undead?

At the foot of the steps was a dead body, and not one that belonged in the tomb. This unfortunate was a would-be looter who should have gone into a different line of work- particularly because he did not have the right equipment. One thing that makes undead difficult is that it takes weapons made from silver or some other rare material to damage most of them; this guy had a chitin axe. Today's handy adventurers tip is: "If you are going to go mucking about in tombs, don't try to do it on the cheap." My point was proved almost immediately when I was attacked by an ancestor ghost- probably the same one that had taken down the fellow sleeping the final sleep on the floor. Even with my Sparksword, I had trouble damaging the ghost- after all, what are you hitting when you swing at an incorporeal spirit? Nevertheless, I prevailed and moved toward the next door. The detection spell showed me that there was a beast of some kind lurking in the corner to the right of the door, probably waiting to ambush whoever stepped through. Spells are wonderful things; they can make your life easier. Unfortunately, if you come to depend on them too much, they can also make your life shorter.

I eased through the door and immediately wheeled to the right to confront a Bonewalker. That was the same kind of undead that had nearly killed me, so I was very focused. In fact, I was too focused, and nearly paid the ultimate price. I went after the Bonewalker with a fury fueled by terror. So intense was my concentration that I didn't even notice the skeleton archer on the other side of the room. The Bonewalker hurt me a bit, but I was able to defeat him. It was only when a nearly fatal arrow grazed my neck that I realized the fight wasn't over. I scrambled to get back out the door, taking two or three more arrows before I could slam it shut. That would have been the perfect time for a Lock spell- if I had had a Lock spell.

Instead, I cast a healing spell on myself and was able to get set just before the skeleton burst through the door. Knowing that I had to negate the advantage the bow provided my bony adversary, I rushed him and swung wildly with the sword. I figured that even if I missed, I might throw his aim off. It wasn't easy, but I finally defeated him and found that he had a nice supply of arrows, including some 50 that were enchanted. I was thankful that he had wasted the iron ones on me- the enchanted arrows would almost certainly have been fatal. Why he had held the good missiles back, I didn't know. Of course, most undead don't have any brains- literally. They only do what they have been enchanted to do. Maybe the creator of this fellow had instructed him to only use the good arrows on certain targets. Battered and bleeding, I cursed all wizards, particularly the Orc who sent me to do this little "favor" for her. So there I was, lucky to be alive, and the only skull I had seen belonged to the skeleton archer that had nearly killed me.

[hazmick]

Exciting stuff! I'm inclined to agree with Trey on the subject of tombs. I prefer my dead people to stay that way, but the Dunmer seem more than happy to let them wander around in their fancy crypts. How's an adventurer to make a living with spooky skeletons charging about?

Hopefully it won't be too difficult to locate the skull. Though needles and haystacks come to mind...

[Grits]

I enjoyed the trip through Arkngthand very much, I'm sure more than Trey did. Yikes, a scary moment behind the door in that tomb, trying to heal up before the next part of the fight. And the sleeping house is waking. Exciting times!

[McBadgere]

"I was the one who got to shovel out the stalls while others rode the horses. This was the same song, different verse."

My newest favourite line of yours in the world, EVER!!... ...And one I can absolutely relate to...Almost literally... ...

Loved this jaunt through the tomb and the earlier ruin..

I've got a strange feeling I had read at least the first part of the two, but forgot to comment...Now I've forgotten if I read it in the first place... ...

Oy...

Aaaaamywho...Proper loving this story...Much fun!!...

Looking forward to see what comes next!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[treydog]

@hazmick- Trust Trey to get sent to a place where the locals not only worship their dead ancestors, but keep them around… As to finding the “correct” skull, well- all shall be revealed….

@Grits- The Dwemer ruins on Morrowind are quite wonderfully done, with all the steam and clanking, spinning machinery set in motion so long ago and now left untended… It is properly spooky. And I remember being quite rattled by the approach of that first Sleeper, as well as the dreams sent from Dagoth Ur.

@McBadgere- My thanks for the compliment. I cannot recall what I was doing for a living when I wrote that line, but Trey’s words probably reflected on my own experiences at the time, which was often the case. I can only hope that my words stand up to a second reading… for myself, I am too close to them to be objective. Although there are times when I wonder who took possession of me to write some of this- because it seems altogether beyond my ability.

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Somehow, I had managed to find myself in a tomb with four, probably undead; guards and most of my magicka expended from healing myself after the previous several guards had used me for target practice. And this was all because I was supposed to find a skull to give to an Orc so the Orc would give me information about a cult to give to the Imperial spymaster, who would no doubt send me out to do something else that would probably get me killed. And I was doing this because...? Maybe because I was afraid of what the Empire would do to me if I didn't. Or maybe because I had said I would. It isn't easy being an honorable thief. Someday I would have to analyze why it was I could steal, but couldn't break my word. But right now, I needed to get the stupid skull, so that etc., etc. etc.

I had just enough magicka left to cast Beggars Nose one more time, and I vowed to pay close attention to the location of all the monsters it indicated this time. There appeared to be at least two more enemies just beyond the room where I had done my best pincushion impersonation and another two back the other way and down a level. Since this was a tomb, the best (or worst, depending on how you looked at it) guards were probably deeper underground. And since it was me that was searching for it, the skull was probably there, too. I made sure that my Almsivi Intervention and healing scrolls were close to hand and turned to go deeper under the ground. I also went into "sneak" mode- trying to become one with the shadows, trying to breathe with the rhythm of the tomb, trying not to scream like a wounded guar when another skeleton archer plunked me with an arrow as I rounded a turn. Biting my lip, I ducked back around the curve and I will swear to you to this day that the accursed collection of bones that should have been buried by a dog shot me again, around the corner! My arrows never managed to do that. I calmed down enough to finally get out of sight, knowing that the guardian skeleton would run after me. Sword at the ready, I waited until I heard the telltale rattle of bones and jumped out to bash him to bits. That last I managed with considerable enthusiasm, but not before he got a couple of more arrows into me. This one also had 50 or so enchanted arrows he hadn't used. I was gaining a significant collection of arrows. And an even more significant collection of arrow wounds. I used up my last healing scroll to repair the damage and tried to decide what to do now. When I was younger, I had a bad habit when thinking- I tended to lean against the nearest wall...or door. Which is nothing worse than bad posture, if the door doesn't swing open to spill you onto the floor in front of a skeleton with a dagger and a bad attitude.

Fortunately, its technique was equally bad, and I recovered fast enough to fend off the attack without getting stabbed, which was a real bonus. Scars are only impressive until you have amassed your own set; I had enough for a regiment. I did some quick math- there were at least two more guardians; I had zero healing magic; Pelegiad was a few hundred yards back up the road; and I only had one life. The correct answer, then, was to go to the Halfway Tavern and rest up. If I could purchase some healing potions or scrolls, that would be even better. If not, I could at least rest and come back in better condition.

It was dark when I emerged from underground, and the night sky had never looked so beautiful. The stars seemed close enough to touch and the air was wonderfully fresh. I took several deep breaths and thanked whatever gods were listening that I was able to do so. With a final shudder at the thought that I was going to have to go back into the tomb, I set out to find a warm bed and some supplies. When I reached town, I headed straight for Mebestien Ence's trading post. As I got closer, my eye happened to fall on the sign outside the armorer's shop next door, and I had a sudden thought- it had been a long time since I had repaired my equipment. As I examined my armor, I realized that its poor condition was one reason the skeletons had been able to hurt me so badly. I would remedy that situation in the morning; for now I wanted to unload a few extra weapons I had picked up here and there and get a room for the night. Drelasa at the Halfway had one healing potion, which I purchased, along with a few alchemy ingredients that were too hard to gather on my own. Finally, I climbed up to my room and fell into bed, exhausted.

The next morning, I went to the armorer to see about purchasing some repair tools. It might have been cheaper to have the repairs done by someone else, but I don't like for strangers to fool with my armor and weapons. Besides, if I could learn to do the repairs myself, I wouldn't have to rush back to a town every time something got dinged. The fact that I had neglected my gear when I knew better was a sign that I had been pushing too hard recently. Somehow, I had acquired a sense of urgency, a feeling that things were moving and I needed to run to keep up. Then, as I went over my gear, I saw another indication that I was trying to do too much, too fast. There I was, in a town overflowing with Imperial guards, and I had a pack full of Dwemer artifacts. Suddenly, the denizens of the Andrano Tomb didn't seem so bad. I decided that my repairs could be accomplished just a little way out of town, where it was less likely a "friendly" guard would ask what I was doing- and, oh, by the way, what's in the bag?

One thing I did like about Pelegiad was the plentiful supply of marshmerrow that grew in the shallow water nearby. The stalks had healing properties, which I could definitely use. Of course, my alchemy apparatus was back in Balmora- I had managed to stop short of carrying that with me. So I had a bunch of Dwemer stuff, possession of which could get me killed; and no alchemy apparatus, possession of which would have allowed me to make potions to maybe stay alive. And I had a tomb to finish exploring. It really is amazing that I managed to reach adulthood.

Back inside the tomb, I cast the detection spell and saw three enemies. I thought there should only be two left, but this seemed like a popular spot for undead. I guess they were just dying to get in. Sorry. I went into sneak mode and soft-footed past the door I had fallen through the previous day. In a large basement room, I managed to surprise a skeleton armed with a club. For a change, I got to pelt my opponent with arrows. A few well-placed shots- with skeletons, they have to be well-placed- dropped the guard. The room contained a few ingredients and a small chest with a few gold- I might not make much profit from this trip, but I would take whatever offered. A corridor at the far end of the room had a door on the right, which opened to reveal a ramp leading further down. My detection spell indicated that the two remaining monsters and two enchanted items were down the ramp.

When you have to deal with multiple opponents, divide and conquer is the way to go. Separate them or get yourself into a position where only one at a time can come at you. The stories are full of scenes like- "The great hero swung his mighty two-handed sword and clove five goblins with a single blow." Yeah, right. That might happen if the goblins politely lined up and stood completely still the whole time. And if the sword didn't catch on bone or armor or a defender's weapon. No, that sort of thing makes for great stories, but lousy reality. In this case, my opponents, and some unexpected luck, solved the problem for me. As I eased down the corridor, making maximum use of the shadows, I saw the legs of a skeleton standing at the far end of the passage with its back to me. The unmistakable grunting and roaring of a Bonewalker came from behind the closed door of a room to the right. I knelt down in the shadows to get a better angle, drew the bowstring back, and let fly. Forgive me while I stop to savor the moment. I fired down a set of steps, in a dark tomb, at a target at the far end of a corridor- and dropped it with a single arrow. It was a thing of beauty; it was the reason I had worked at learning to use a bow since arriving. Of course, there was also still a Bonewalker to deal with. And I didn't think it was going to stand still while I opened the door and shot it full of arrows. Nevertheless, I did switch to the fire-damage arrows, figuring to get one or two off before having to go to the sword.

I tried to time opening the door to a moment when the undead construct was farthest away, but it was such a small room that it didn't help much. The good news was that this was a regular Bonewalker, one that preferred to use attribute-draining spells before attacking with claws and teeth. My dubious heritage paid off, as I avoided or resisted all but one of the spells. Meanwhile, I hit the creature with two arrows, which weakened it considerably. They also enraged the nauseating collection of flesh and bone, which shambled toward me, roaring. I dropped the bow and went to sword and shield. Because of the damage from the arrows, this Bonewalker fell more quickly than any of the others. It even yielded a soul gem. Now I had the crypt to myself. I immediately noticed a skull inscribed with ritual markings resting on a kneeler in front of an ash pit. Llevule Andrano, I presumed. For the moment I left it there and searched the rest of the room, coming up with a real treasure, a book- Sermon 15 of the 36 Lessons of Vivec. I clutched the book to me and picked up the skull. So now it was time to go. And I found that I was carrying so much stuff that I couldn't move.

[McBadgere]

Oooh...proper excellent!!...

Good idea to get out while the going's still upright... ...

I absolutely loved the feel of the place as Trey got out...I think I felt his joy at the idea meself... ...Perhaps I just remember (BOOYAH!!!) how it feels to get out of the Dwemer ruins in Skyrim...I love them, but they're creepy...But yeah, that bit where he leaves and it's night...Fantastic!...

Love the subtle description of how the town is in the evening, and its environs...

A brilliant and exciting delve - and re-delve - into a tomb...

And I found that I was carrying so much stuff that I couldn't move.

Egads!!...Did they have lighten load spells in Morrowind?...Snassn-Frassn-removing-them-for-Skyrim...Grrrrr...

Oh damn...I've started me own rant again...AAAAARGH!!!...*Shakes fist at Bethesda's constant removing of magics from games*...

*Slaps self*...

Dammit!!...

aaaaamywho...

Love this story...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[hazmick]

An exciting bit of exploration! Taking a break halfway through the dungeon dive was a wise choice, but Trey really needs to get rid of that Dwemer stuff before he gets into trouble.

And he found a book! Good to see another adventurer of fine taste. Begs the question though - what kind of buffoon leaves a book in a tomb? Can skeletons read? Morrowind is truly a land of mystery.

[treydog]

@McBadgere- Morrowind really did the atmospherics in the tombs quite well, with the lighting and ambient sounds and etc. And also the Dwemer ruins and Daedric shrines- each of which have their own “feel.”

And describing the environment is one of the things it took me quite some time to recognize as being a common thread in the writing I liked the best. So- I wanted to do more with the “where” as well as the “who,” even as I tried to write character-driven stories. On the other hand- the world rather “is” a character in its own right.

Finally- yes, Morrowind actually does have a Feather spell (and Trey very well might have been carrying around a scroll or potion to create the effect- if he could have been bothered to dig it out). The spell version, he had yet to learn….

@hazmick- Even Trey’s stubbornness finds its limit! Books are one of his great weaknesses- a thing that I “knew” almost as soon as I began writing his story.

I suppose the skeletons read without eyes in the same way that they scream without lungs… A land of mystery, indeed.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One of the side-effects of growing up with nothing was that I found it hard to throw anything away. Even if I had no immediate use for the item, I held on to it "just in case." By itself, that little quirk wouldn't be a problem. However, when I started lugging the stuff all over the countryside.... I was stuck in the Andrano Tomb with a pack I couldn't lift. I absolutely would not get rid of my armor or weapons, especially not the bow- did I tell you about the great shot I had just made with it? So what else did I have? There was a Dwemer table service for six; the Morrowind history books Hasphat and Caius had given me, which I had intended to read while traveling; and The Pilgrims Path; and the ingredients I had been collecting; and... look, let's just say I had a lot of stuff and leave it at that. There was nothing I wanted to leave behind- I had no intention of coming back to this place. I had the skull Sharn wanted and that was the only reason I had come in here in the first place. I could use Recall to get back to the Mages Guild, which would be perfect. If that failed, I had an Almsivi Intervention scroll that would take me to the nearest temple- probably in Vivec. The idea of appearing at the main temple with a dead Dunmer's skull and a bunch of illegal artifacts didn't really appeal to me, but I would have to do what I could.

Fortunately, my Recall worked and as soon as my stomach settled, I put all of my books and the 10 pound chunk of ebony I had been carrying into "my" cabinet. I had a buyer in mind for the Dwemer stuff, plus I needed to hang onto one bowl and one goblet for Sugar-Lips. Where I was going to come up with a Dwemer tube, I didn't know. I didn't even know what a Dwemer tube was. I might have to go confront Ra'Zhid, after all. But first, I wanted to give Sharn the skull of the long-dead enchanter. She seemed very pleased, but also acted somewhat odder than usual- as soon as she made sure it was the right skull, she looked around to see if anyone else had noticed and quickly put it out of sight. She then explained that the Ashland Dunmer believed that an ancient war-leader, named Nerevar, would be reincarnated some day to unite the tribes and drive the foreigners from Morrowind. This hero would also overthrow the Tribunal Temple, which worshiped false gods. Sharn's notes contained even more, including a version of a prophecy called The Stranger and a discussion of the so-called Lost Prophecies. I found all of this fascinating, and resolved that I would catch up on my reading once I delivered the notes to Caius. I also wanted to finish the mission for Sugar-Lips and maybe get in more practice with my weapons and magic. These Blades jobs seemed to be high-risk, low-reward affairs. As I left the Mages Guild, I was accosted by yet another wild-eyed Dunmer. This individual told me,

"Beneath Red Mountain, Lord Dagoth sleeps. But when he wakes, we all shall rise, and the dust will be blown away. Serve your Lord, Dagoth Ur. The Sixth House is risen and Dagoth is its glory."

Maybe it wasn't just a drinking or drug problem; maybe there was something in the water that made these dark elves act like so strangely.

Caius was so pleased with the report from Sharn that he promoted me to Blades Apprentice. That and a few drakes might get me a jug of sujamma. He did give me two scrolls as payment- Almsivi and Divine Intervention, so it wasn't a complete loss. Then he chased me out, saying he needed to read and think about how the information affected, "...the Emperor's plans for you." I really disliked that last phrase. I didn't want the Emperor to have any "plans" for me. I wanted him to forget I even existed. But in the meantime, Caius had given me permission to go out on my own for a while. That was a relief, even if it did sound suspiciously like, "Run along and play now. The adults have things to discuss." That was fine by me- I had some unfinished business of my own. The first thing I wanted to do was go to my buyer in Caldera and get rid of most of the excess baggage I had been carrying around. Having accomplished that goal, I decided to walk back to Balmora instead of using the guild guide. I could spend the trip practicing my skills and maybe gathering a few ingredients.

Near a fork in the road, I came across the end of a sad story. After I had defeated a couple of nix-hounds, I discovered the body of a man under a rock shelter above the road. From some things he was carrying, it appeared that his name was Ernil Omoran and that he had come from Balmora. He didn't have much, just a skooma pipe and a note to someone named "Tsiya." The note said, in part- "...it's not always a good idea for me to hang around...." The name Tsiya seemed familiar to me and I resolved to find her if I could, so she would know what had happened to Ernil. It seemed the least I could do, considering I was also likely to end up dead in some remote place someday.

Back in Balmora, I asked Hul if she knew of someone named Tsiya and she pointed me to a small house just behind the Council Club. That reminded me- I was going to have to sort that bunch out soon. Tsiya's door was locked and no one responded to my knock, but I could hear somebody moving around inside. Normally, that would be my cue to go on about my questionable business somewhere else. This time, though, the thought of Ernil's poor battered body out there beside the road really bothered me, so I decided to use my skills. The lock was fairly complex, so I used the Tower Key spell to get past it, and walked in. Needless to say, Tsiya was not very happy with me for breaking in, but when I mentioned that I had a note from Ernil, the Khajiit calmed down. I then explained about finding the body and the note, and she broke down for a moment. After she had composed herself, Tsiya asked if Ernil had been carrying anything. I handed over the skooma pipe and she seemed flustered, denying that it was hers. But she didn't try to give it back and, in fact, gave me 50 gold and 10 packets of moon sugar. There didn't seem to be anything else to say, so I left. On my way back to the Mages Guild, I swung by the Odai and dropped the moon sugar into the water; I had enough problems already.

One of those problems that continued to concern me was how to get a Dwemer tube for Sugar-Lips. I wanted to repair any damage I might have done by asking her about the dark elf religion and also to advance in the guild. I couldn't think of an alternative, so I set out for Hla Oad and a meeting with Ra'Zhid, the fellow who had been foolish enough to steal from the Thieves Guild. It looked like a simple jaunt down the Odai would get me there. The journey was uneventful; I again practiced my sneaking and Illusion skills as I went, and dealt with a few minor creatures that crossed my path. When I reached Hla Oad, I had to look twice to make sure the town wasn't just the debris of a large shipwreck. A few tumbledown shacks on stilts comprised the whole place. Interestingly, the docks were in good shape, a clue as to the priorities of the townspeople. I found an informant who told me a bit, after some financial persuasion. He explained that the town was Camonna Tong territory, but that Fatleg was associated with the Thieves Guild. He also said that Ra'Zhid was looking to move some Dwemer artifacts. My plan was to see if I could buy the items from the Khajiit and make everyone happy.

The only problem was, Ra'Zhid didn't want to deal, at least not with me. Apparently, some sixth sense told him I was Thieves Guild, and no amount of persuasion would make him admit to knowing anything about any Dwemer artifacts. Finally, I gave up and went to Plan B- steal. Actually, that's usually also Plans A through Y for me, but I was trying to expand my repertoire. A careful look around the room showed me a couple of locked chests and a trapdoor leading through the floor. Anyone who was gutsy enough to steal from the Thieves Guild would want to keep the goods nearby, so I ignored the trapdoor. One chest had a pretty fancy lock- I hoped that one belonged to the trader. The other was well within my capabilities though, so I decided to just sort of pretend to go to sleep in the corner. When it appeared that the Khajiit and the trader weren't looking, I downed an Invisibility potion I had picked up somewhere and went to work on the lock. Remember, a while back, when I explained why I preferred Chameleon to Invisibility? Because whenever you take an action besides moving, the Invisibility dispels? I got the lock open, flipped the lid of the chest up, and heard, "Hey, what do you think you're doing! Guards!" I just had time to grab the Dwemer artifacts and 100 drakes and Almsivi out. Imagine the nerve- a smuggler, calling the guards down on a thief who was retrieving stolen goods that were illegal for anyone to possess in the first place. I almost let the guards catch me just to hear how this would play out. Of course, the crooked Khajiit would probably claim I was trying to sell the goods and got mad when he wouldn't meet my price.

Using the intervention spell had bought me some time before the "crime" was reported, but I didn't want to fool around. If the guards caught me, I would lose any other stolen goods I was carrying and have to pay a fine. And who would decide what was “stolen? The guards would, of course. Not to mention that the fine would be based on the value of the items designated as stolen. There was more than one way to steal, and it was becoming clear to me that I had chosen the hardest one. With that thought lending speed to my steps, I jogged across the river to the South Wall and presented Sugar-Lips with the Dwemer goods. She purred over them, literally, and gave me some tools as a reward. After thanking her, I went downstairs to Phane Rielle and got my bounty cleared. Then, because I had lost money between the bribes and the bounty, I went back to Sugar-Lips for another job. Her next assignment sounded a little simpler; at least it was there in town. It seemed that Ralen Hlaalo had died suddenly and left behind a bottle of vintage brandy that one of Sugar-Lips' "clients" wanted. All I had to do was get into Hlaalo Manor, find the brandy, and get out. Oh, and not get caught.

Hlaalo Manor was an imposing multi-story place in the wealthy section of Balmora. I took a stroll around the place and immediately noticed that the front door was both well-locked and very public. I might be able to get through the lock, but I would almost certainly be seen and reported. A guard tower next door gave me a better idea. A set of steps ran up the outside of the guard tower adjacent to a second floor balcony of Hlaalo Manor. And I have to admit, it appealed to me to use the guard tower to assist my burglary. It was the work of a few seconds to climb the steps, mount the railing, and jump over to the balcony. Once there, I had complete privacy to work the lock, which succumbed to my ministrations. Inside, I turned and went up a flight of steps. The bedroom showed signs of a violent struggle or search. I started to wonder about Ralen Hlaalo's "sudden death." As I went through the house, I nearly suffered a sudden death of my own when I opened a door and surprised the housemaid, Lyrne Nirith. She seemed to think I was there to investigate the death of her employer and talked to me quite pleasantly. I decided to play along; she was really broken up about it and worried about her future. It turned out that Hlaalo had been murdered. She described the attacker as, "A young Dunmer, with red hair worn in a row, as is the fashion these days. He wore bonemold armor and used a Dwemer war axe."

I thanked her and left to check the rest of the house. On the ground floor lay Ralen Hlaalo, quite dead. He didn't appear to have been robbed, so I had to wonder about the motive. I also found the brandy that I had come for and, being a good thief, left by the front door. The brandy was a big hit with Sugar-Lips and she gave me 1000 drakes and a promotion to Blackcap. All that should have pleased me, but somehow it seemed rather hollow. I made my slow way back to the Mages Guild to mix potions and think. I thought about Ralen Hlaalo, dead in his fine mansion and Ernil Omoran, dead by the side of the road. The rich man mourned by his maid, the smuggler by his skooma-addicted Khajiit friend. For all that they had been or not been, for all that they had possessed or not possessed, they had ended up in the same place. I wondered where that place might be. I wondered what it all meant. Most of all, I wondered who would mourn for me.

Here Ends Chapter 3

[McBadgere]

Y'ssssss!!...Most excellent!!...

Most of all, I wondered who would mourn for me.

Well, ignoring the whole Meta thing of us not knowing Trey had existed had he not been all old and alive enough to write the memoir in the first place...

ME!!!...*Hand up*...Me'd have mourned him!...Excellent chap with questionable habits where personal possessions are concerned, but excellent chap nevertheless... ...

Very much enjoyed this part...Lots of tying up things where his jobs were concerned and his personal standings with both of his - for want of a better word - Bosses...

Funny though, I can't think of a more separate pairing...Thieves Guild and The Blades... ...Fair dues, very cool that though...

Much loved the writing!!...Excellent stuff...

Very much looking forward to the next chapter...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...