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> The Story of Trey- Chapter 12
treydog
post Apr 8 2005, 12:26 AM
Post #1


Master
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Joined: 13-February 05
From: The Smoky Mountains



Although I had decided to approach House Hlaalu first, I still had some reservations. When I had researched the Great Houses, I had learned enough about Hlaalu and its councilors to be wary. In particular, I was concerned about Crassius Curio. Although he wasn’t the acknowledged leader of Hlaalu, the Imperial councilor was one of the powers to be reckoned with. And even if he was peculiar, he was also extremely able. Add to that the fact that he resided in Vivec, which was full of Ordinators, and my problems were multiplied. Sul-Matuul had warned me that the Temple guardians would be likely to try to kill me first and ask questions after if they knew that I had declared myself Nerevarine. Of course, so far as I knew, no one had denounced me to the Temple- yet. Oddly, that fact made choosing to start with Hlaalu a wiser choice. Theirs was the only House most of whose councilors lived in or near the main seat of the Temple. Better to get in and out before word of my claims reached too many ears. The truth was that I wouldn’t have been happy to be obligated to anyone whose motives I didn’t trust, not just Crassius Curio. The fact that he was a decadent Imperial simply made it worse.

Despite my fears, the Hlaalu councilor was as gracious as ever when I asked to speak with him. He invited me to sit and asked how he could be of service to “one of Redoran’s rising stars.” That complimentary title was his way of telling me that he had sources of information and that he knew who I was. Realizing that the best response would be directness, I asked Crassius to tell me how Hlaalu went about naming a Hortator. The councilor explained that the title was largely honorary, but nevertheless required the unanimous support of the House Council. To achieve that support, one would have to demonstrate that there was a need for a war leader- that a true crisis existed. He then provided a description of the Hortator’s role,

“A Hortator is a champion who leads by inspiration. He challenges opposing heroes in single combat. He goes on long, desperate quests. He goes alone into the citadels of the enemy. He confronts the dangers no one else in the House is strong enough... or courageous enough... to face.”

Much as I disliked that summation, it certainly matched the situation Azura had trapped me into, so I asked if I could become Hlaalu Hortator. As I had expected, Crassius asked for a “small consideration” of 1000 drakes for his vote. He was honest enough to point out that Orvas Dren would NOT support me as things currently stood and that a number of the other councilors would not defy Dren. I willingly paid the bribe and asked Curio for any advice on the other councilors. He listed them and their probable reactions- Dram Bero would likely support me- if I could find him. Yngling Half-Troll would probably need to be “removed.” Nevena Ules and Velanda Omani would follow the lead of Orvas Dren. He suggested that it might be possible to trick or bribe Dren- he could be found at the Dren Plantation. Lord Curio then casually mentioned something that took my breath away- Orvas Dren was the head of the Camonna Tong and was rumored to be involved with the Sixth House. Although my initial reaction was to sharpen my blades and take the shortest path to the Dren Plantation, I restrained the impulse. Considering the influence Dren seemed to wield, killing him might very well prevent me from being named Hortator. And, much as I hated to admit it, sometimes duty took precedence over justice. Finally, Curio gave me directions on how to find most of the other councilors and I took my leave.

Although my mind still whirled with the thought that I would have to go ask a favor of the head of the Camonna Tong, there were other councilors closer by who I could hopefully persuade. Yngling Half-Troll lived in a manor house atop the St. Olms canton, and rumor had it that Dram Bero could also be found somewhere in Vivec. As was true of most Hlaalu councilors, Yngling retained an interesting variety of “hired help,” including a Nord, a Bosmer, and an Orc. Whatever else he might be, Yngling certainly wasn’t biased. Although Crassius had suggested that House Hlaalu wouldn’t mind if Yngling just “disappeared,” I saw no reason to handle their internal squabbles for them. If he was willing to listen, I would do my best to convince Yngling to support me out of his own self-interest. After hearing my story, the Nord proved himself to be as direct as those folk usually are-

“Well, tha’s very interestin’, I’m sure. But it will take 2000 drakes if you want my vote.”

That seemed a small price to pay to achieve my goal and to avoid having yet another death on my conscience, so I willingly paid. It was also gratifying to avoid getting entangled in the Hlaalu power struggle. If Crassius wanted Yngling removed, he would just have to find someone else to do the deed.

The thought of finding someone reminded me- I still needed to find Dram Bero. A few careful questions and judiciously spent coins revealed the fact that the elusive Hlaalu councilor was occasionally seen on the St. Olms plaza, the very place where I found myself. Considering how the Hlaalu seemed to prefer to settle disputes, I wasn’t surprised that one of their councilors chose to conceal his whereabouts. It’s hard to assassinate someone if you don’t know how to find him.
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treydog
post Apr 8 2005, 12:27 AM
Post #2


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From: The Smoky Mountains



The only thing duller than the next few stages of my dealings with House Hlaalu would be retelling those events, so I shall refrain. I will only remark that I found Bero and he gave me his support. One interesting event did occur which had nothing to do with Hlaalu. While I was seeking information on Dram Bero, I heard rumors about a man named Danar Uvelas, who had gone missing. His wife, who ran a small apothecary shop in St. Olms, was anxious for any word of his whereabouts. As an orphan, I was always moved by stories of missing family members and the loved ones who waited for news. I suppose my interest in such cases was fueled by my secret wish that there was someone, somewhere, who cared about my well-being. Also, after dealing with Hlaalu, it seemed that a favor for someone in need might balance the books a bit, or at least make me feel better. So I sought out Moroni Uvelas, who had the haunted eyes and care-worn face of someone who has loved unwisely and seen too many promises broken. After I had spoken with her long enough to gain her trust, she explained that her husband was a skooma addict and that he tended to hide out in the underworks of the canton when he was on a binge. Usually, he would return after a few days, broke and suffering from the effects of the drug. But this time he had been gone for over a week, and Moroni feared that he had finally succumbed to some disease or perhaps even died in some dark corner. Although she was afraid to find out for certain, she was even more afraid to go on living without knowing. I reassured her as best as I could, and promised that I would go immediately to find the missing man. Azura and Hlaalu and prophecy would just have to wait.

The “underworks” is really just a fancy way of saying “sewers.” All of the debris and detritus of the cantons finds it way down into the noisome canals and tunnels. Some of that debris is the sort that makes its way there under its own power- people with reasons that are compelling enough to put up with the stench and the rats. Because the man I sought was an addict, I had to check all of the canals, as well as the walkways. It would be easy enough for someone to fall in and drown in a drug-addled state. And I had made a promise that I would find Danar, living or dead. As I splashed down a dark, twisting tunnel that connected two of the main canals, I saw a hunched figure lurching toward me. When I called out, “Danar,” the figure seemed to stiffen momentarily as if in recognition of the name. As I drew closer, the true horror of Danar’s fate was revealed to me. The being that I met was no longer Danar Uvelas, even though it still wore the clothes his wife had described to me. What I met in that echoing tunnel was a corprus stalker. Hopeless though I knew it to be, I tried to break through the madness that the disease had wrought, praying that some spark of Danar still survived. But it was no use- the foul creature simply shambled forward and clawed at me. The struggle was mercifully brief, for I had no desire to do else but end the creature’s pain. As he fell, I caught the glint of silver on the ring finger of one misshapen hand. The ring was a marriage band, inscribed in Elven script- “To Danar, My Husband.” It gave me some comfort, that, even at the worst moments of his addiction, Danar had not pawned the ring. And now it was up to me to carry it back to Moroni and to tell her that she would not have to listen for his knock any longer. Deliberately telling an untruth is wrong in the eyes of some religious folk, but I obviously do not hold such beliefs. And even if I did, I think I can be forgiven for telling Moroni that I found her husband curled up, as if asleep, in a dry section of the tunnels. I told her that he appeared to have gone peacefully, with a slight smile on his face. And I gave her the ring he had kept throughout the worst of his troubles. In return, she gave me several potions of Cure Common Disease, a generous gift from someone who had so little.

Whatever inner peace I received from that episode was severely tested when I went to speak with Orvas Dren. The Dren Plantation was somewhat north of Vivec, and was clearly a prosperous enterprise. The sight of the slave quarters caused a tightness in my chest and an involuntary twitch of my sword hand. Remembering my purpose, I firmly stepped on my more noble impulses, and asked a retainer whether Orvas Dren was home. After an insolent glance at my appearance, the retainer responded that Lord Dren might be home, but that he probably had no desire to speak with anyone of “my sort.” Through clenched teeth I replied,

“Perhaps that is a matter for Lord Dren to decide?”

The guard simply yawned elaborately and pointed toward the villa, then said,

“Do what you want, pal. It’s your funeral.”

When no more encouragement appeared to be forthcoming, I shrugged and entered the house. After wandering around and being gratuitously insulted by guards and servants, I finally found Lord Dren on an upper floor. He was relatively young for someone who held so much power in Vvardenfell, but his eyes were peculiar. It took me a moment to grasp that what I was seeing was the same lack of expression as might be found in the eyes of a dead man. When he first saw me, Dren reached for his sword, but then seemed to have another thought. He released the hilt and sneered at me,

“The servants’ entrance is around back, and the slaves work the fields. Decide which you are and find your rightful place.”

With great restraint, I told him that, if he was in fact Lord Orvas Dren, then I was in the right place. I added that I had come to him because I wanted to be named Hlaalu Hortator. With a smirk, he said that I had showed uncommon sense in coming to him, then asked,

“What is it worth to you? Why do you want to be named Hortator?”

For what seemed like the thousandth time, I ran through the story of the prophecies and how I fit into them. Dren was less than impressed.

“That's the worst story I've ever heard. What makes you think I care about these prophecies? If you're the chosen one, why do you have to come to me? Why aren't you Hortator already, eh? I believe you have wasted enough of my time. Goodbye.”

Sometimes, a dismissal is actually a dismissal. Other times, it is the opening of negotiations. The key is to recognize which is which.

I knew that Dren, like most of Hlaalu, would be susceptible to bribery. In his case, the difference was that it wasn’t about the money, it was what the money signified- respect. So I gritted my teeth, bowed to the leader of the Camonna Tong, and offered him a “gift” of 2000 drakes. With that preliminary out of the way, we were able to get down to business. Dren again asked me why I wanted to be Hortator, what was in it for me? Knowing that his bias against the Empire would provide a lever, I told him that defeating Dagoth Ur would be the key to throwing the Empire out of Morrowind. That was exactly what he wanted to hear. His sneer was replaced with a calculating expression, and he told me,

“I have long believed it was a mistake to turn from the old gods. Perhaps Azura is with you after all. And perhaps not. I will tell you that I've spoken with Dagoth Ur. He promised me the same thing. That he will drive the foreigners from our lands. But I am not one to ignore opportunity, nor am I one to be troubled by rubbing two sides of a coin. If you are a Breton of your word, I am your ally. I will tell Velanda Omani and Nevena Ules to support you as Hortator of House Hlaalu.”

I had to do many distasteful things on the path of prophecy, but I tell you now that shaking the hand of Orvas Dren was more disgusting than wading through the sewers of Vivec. But I was driven by necessity, and so I clasped his hand and answered his phony smile with one of my own. However, I was not foolish enough to turn my back on him when I left.
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treydog
post Apr 8 2005, 12:27 AM
Post #3


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From: The Smoky Mountains



The remaining Hlaalu councilors were only too happy to do whatever Orvas Dren told them, so I was able to quickly return to Crassius Curio. That peculiar Hlaalu noble congratulated me on my success and gave me a belt which was the symbol of the Hlaalu Hortator. As I prepared to leave Vivec, a feeling of some unfinished business nagged me. It was as if I had seen or heard something and not grasped the full implications- and I had an idea that it was important. I recalled the last few days- my business with House Hlaalu was mercifully over; the only other recent task I had undertaken was the unfortunate affair of Danar Uvelas…. And that was when the answer came to me, or rather the question- how did Danar Uvelas catch corprus when he had never left Vivec?

Perhaps my own experience had colored my thinking, but I believed that corprus was rather difficult to catch, unless one ventured inside the Ghostgate- or entered a Sixth House base. And since Danar had spent his time in the underworks of Vivec, that seemed to indicate that something worse than rats lived in those dank tunnels. The first place I decided to check was St. Olms itself. When I had been looking for Danar, I had noticed a guarded door, but hadn’t thought I needed to find what lay on the other side. Now I did. Whatever it was, I owed it to the people of Vivec to seek out the source of the evil that festered beneath their very feet. To this day, I cannot explain my actions even to my own satisfaction. I no longer had any illusions about being a hero, if I ever had. Perhaps it was the fact that I had been infected with the dread disease myself and felt an obligation to protect others. Perhaps I felt the need to atone for making a deal with Orvas Dren, instead of cutting him down where he stood. In any event, I felt compelled to cleanse Vivec- at least of the more obvious evil. There was a fleeting moment when I wondered why this task should fall to me, with all those Ordinators parading around. After all, weren’t they supposed to be the soldiers of the Temple, dedicated to seeking out evil? Of course, to do that, they would first have to admit that a problem had grown up right under their superior noses, a problem that they had neither sensed nor stopped. Far easier to polish their armor and mouth platitudes about the greatness of the Tribunal than to actually do something.

What I found underneath Vivec was…surprising. There were no fewer than three Daedric shrines, along with worshipers who were less than happy to see me. Under the Hlaalu canton, in the ancestral vaults, I was unsurprised to find a large amount of contraband, including moon sugar and more of the cursed ash statues that had been used against Redoran. There were also several smugglers who weren’t going to be able to make their next delivery. Of more interest was what, or rather who, I found under the Arena canton. Through a partially concealed trapdoor, I discovered extensive quarters, dining rooms, stores, and practice areas. And I also found Eno Hlaalu, the head of the Morag Tong. As I had no desire to do business with the “official” assassins guild of Morrowind, I made my excuses and got out of there as quickly as possible. The Telvanni underworks were by far the cleanest- no debris, no rats, no lurking Daedra worshippers. Whether that was because the Telvanni were naturally fastidious or because no one was dumb enough to set up a base in Telvanni territory, I didn’t know. The wizards also had an area I simply couldn’t resist- the door was clearly marked “Telvanni Monster Lab.” No self-respecting adventurer could pass up something that invitingly labeled, and I was no exception. Apparently, the Telvanni had learned rather more about the ancient Dwemer than they were admitting to anyone- the “Monster Lab” contained a number of the mechanical guardians usually associated with Dwemer ruins. From the Dwemer metal, soul gems, and other tools scattered about, it was clear that they had unlocked the secrets of constructing the spiders, spheres, and steam guardians that still patrolled the Dwemer strongholds. Unfortunately, whoever was working in the lab was not so kind as to leave any plans or drawings lying about, so I wasn’t going to be able to animate any metal monsters of my own.

Finally, in the last place I wanted to, I found the evidence of Sixth House malignancy. In the Redoran Ancestral Vaults, I was set upon by a lame corprus beast. And beside one of the canals, I found a small shrine, complete with corprus meat and a sacrificial victim. Again I was reminded that the Sixth House seemed to be targeting Redoran in particular. It could not be a coincidence that Varvur Sarethi and Brara Morvayn had been attacked via the ash statues, and that I now found Sixth House magic being worked beneath the Redoran canton. And I had to wonder if it had truly been free will that had led me to choose Redoran as my House, particularly when Hlaalu had seemed better suited to my “talents.” Regardless, I had made my choice and I did not regret it. I destroyed the foul shrine and cleansed the stone-work as best I could. Although Vivec was now safer and cleaner than it had been, it would only be a matter of time before the evil crept back in. The Temple and its guardians seemed to be oblivious to the danger that threatened, and I now knew that it was up to me to take the fight to Red Mountain, to Dagoth Ur. But the time for that battle had not yet come. I was Hortator of Hlaalu, but Telvanni and Redoran yet remained. The path to Red Mountain ran through Sadrith Mora and the towers of Telvanni power. I only hoped that I had grown strong enough to face those ancient Dunmer wizards and their terrible magic.
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Veltan
post Apr 8 2005, 01:06 AM
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Joined: 3-April 05
From: Worshipping Sheogorath



Excellent storytelling, treydog. I especially like the way that Trey is beginning to realize that his actions might not just be driven by his own desire.


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I'm just killing time
until my doomsday.

There's no reason or rhyme
to what they sooth-say.


p.s. Even though my website is called Teltano, Veltan was already taken.
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Channler
post Apr 8 2005, 01:07 AM
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From: Nashville, North Carolina



Awsome, amazing... two thumbs up.

Are you a writer trey? I mean do you like work for a newspaper or somehting?


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minque
post Apr 8 2005, 06:49 AM
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Joined: 11-February 05
From: Where I can watch you!!



This part grasped my heart harshly....as "being a Redoran", so Trey found evil at that particular place, it scared me, but made perfectly sense. You really did it again treydog........for the first wanting me to stand beside Trey in the fight against evil , for the second wanting me to aid and protect him.... :embarrassed:

I´m very touched by this you know.... smile.gif


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Chomh fada agus a bhionn daoine ah creiduint in aif�iseach, leanfaidh said na n-aingniomhi a choireamh (Voltaire)

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Wolfie
post Apr 8 2005, 02:35 PM
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From: Dublin, Ireland



Go Trey! Cleanse those cantons! biggrin.gif


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D�anaim smaoineamh, d� bhr� sin, t�im ann - Descartes

Only the dead have seen the end of war ~ Plato

Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed. - G.K. Chesterton

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Soulseeker3.0
post Apr 8 2005, 09:39 PM
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From: From "not where you are"-ville



way to go, and p.s. the corprus beast is realy the lady's husband? drat i always kill it i mean him....


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This was pretty unusual, because most children at his age wanted to become great warriors, known all through time as saviors of, well, anything - Toroabok
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minque
post Apr 8 2005, 10:37 PM
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Wise Woman
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From: Where I can watch you!!



[quote=Soulseeker3.0]way to go, and p.s. the corprus beast is realy the lady's husband? drat i always kill it i mean him....[/quote]

well..it just might be so......only the author knows! biggrin.gif


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Chomh fada agus a bhionn daoine ah creiduint in aif�iseach, leanfaidh said na n-aingniomhi a choireamh (Voltaire)

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Burnt Sierra
post Apr 10 2005, 05:11 PM
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A most welcome update, to a wonderfully well written story. To coin your own phrase,

S.G.M.

(Please smile.gif )
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Elongar
post Apr 11 2005, 11:27 AM
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S.G.M.! Now that I know what it means!

Keep writing, treydog. We love it!


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Power of the Shadow made human flesh,
wakened to turmoil, strife and ruin.
The Reborn One, marked and bleeding,
dances the sword in dreams and mist,
chains the Shadowsworn to his will,
from the city, lost and forsaken,
leads the spears to war once more,
breaks the spears and makes them see,
truth long hidden in the ancient dream.
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treydog
post Apr 16 2005, 01:49 AM
Post #12


Master
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Joined: 13-February 05
From: The Smoky Mountains



The Telvanni councilors preferred to live in isolation- for a number of very good reasons. First, each worked in his or her own way to accumulate power and to unlock the secrets that would allow them to gain still more. Not one of the wizards wished to have another observe their progress too closely. Then there was the fact that one could choose to advance in House Telvanni by means of assassination. The Telvanni attitude was that if someone was able to slay a councilor in his or her tower, surrounded by physical and magical protections, then the slayer deserved to be rewarded. If Redoran respected honor, and Hlaalu respected money, it was safe to say that Telvanni respected power, particularly magical power. In any event, between their jealousy and their (justified) paranoia, the councilors resided in towers or “Tels” scattered around the eastern side of Vvardenfell. And, because they were too busy (and too cautious) to be bothered to congregate in one place, they had developed a uniquely Telvanni solution to communicating . Each councilor employed an accomplished Telvanni retainer as a “Mouth.” These Mouths served as the means by which the councilors communicated with one another and with the outside world. They stayed in contact by means of a magical connection that may as well be called “telepathy,” even if that is not precisely accurate. The point of all this is: it was a very bad idea to show up at a Telvanni tower uninvited and unannounced. Startled Telvanni wizards tend to blast strangers with magicka and leave their servants to sweep away the charred remains. Therefore, I knew that my first stop would have to be Sadrith Mora and the Telvanni Council Hall, wherein the Mouths gathered. In my travels throughout Vvardenfell, I had tried to listen more than I talked and to retain most of what I heard. Therefore, I did not walk into Sadrith Mora completely unprepared. Athyn Sarethi, Caius, and several others had mentioned that Master Aryon was the most “progressive” of the Telvanni councilors. Although he had many of the characteristics of that House, he was young enough to listen to a non-Telvanni. Perhaps even open-minded enough to listen to someone claiming to be the Nerevarine.

With that in mind, I purposely sought out Galos Mathendis, Mouth for Master Aryon. Reflecting his master’s more liberal nature, Galos listened politely as I told him that I wished to be named Telvanni Hortator and why. When I had described all the events that brought me to this point, Galos looked thoughtful as well as concerned and said,

“That's not a pleasant story. And it means trouble is coming, for all the Great Houses. I'm afraid you'll have to speak directly to Master Aryon on a matter of such importance. His tower, Tel Vos, is north along the coast.”

That certainly made sense- no Telvanni wizard was going to accept a story like mine without a chance to examine me personally. Anyone could claim to have passed the other trials and to be the Incarnate, could possibly even convince one of the Mouths. But it would be a special sort of fool indeed that would try to deceive a Telvanni master in his own seat of power. Before I departed for Tel Vos, Galos also gave me a copy of the Brown Book of the Telvanni, which listed the current councilors, their residences, and the names of their Mouths. The book also recorded the House’s continuing objection to any ban on slavery in Vvardenfell and their refusal to restrain the unauthorized expansion of Telvanni holdings. Again I could see that Redoran had been the only Great House where I really fit in.

Regardless of the Telvanni’s feelings about slavery, or anything else, what mattered was convincing them to name me Hortator. That being so, I made my way north to Tel Vos. Even the exterior of that wizard tower showed that Master Aryon was different from the “traditional Telvanni.” His tower appeared to be composed of an Imperial fort or similar construction in and around which a more standard organic Telvanni tower had grown. Having no idea exactly how to find the councilor, I entered the first door that I found and wandered through the maze-like interior. While engaged in that practice, I discovered a couple of the reasons why it was a bad idea to poke one’s nose into a wizard’s lair. In this case, those reasons were a Flame Atronach and a Winged Twilight. Strange pets these Telvanni chose to keep. I hoped Aryon wouldn’t miss those two. At last, I found a guard who rather grudgingly told me that Master Aryon’s chambers were through a south-facing door near the top of the tower. Armed with that knowledge, I used a Levitation potion and rose upward to search amongst the higher reaches of the more tree-like segment of Tel Vos. Once I had located and entered the proper door, I met an Imperial mercenary named Turedus Talanian, the head of Aryon’s household guards. Once Turedus satisfied himself that I had not come on a mission of assassination, he relaxed a bit. He felt that it was probable that his master would be willing to at least listen to my story. As I turned toward the stairs, I heard him mutter something about, “…which is more than most of these daft wizards will do.”

Master Aryon was not precisely what I had expected, as my only real experience of Telvanni wizards had been Divayth Fyr. For one thing, he seemed quite youthful for a Telvanni master. However, as I looked more closely, I realized that his eyes held the same sort of intensity and focus. Young though he was, Aryon had earned his place in House Telvanni through skill and ability. When I explained my desire to be named Hortator and related my story yet again, Aryon asked me to give him a few moments to consider what I had told him. I waited anxiously as he sat staring into the distance for a period of time. Very soon, he returned to the present, focused his intense gaze upon my face, and spoke,

“Yes, I understand. You are willing to take the responsibility, and I am willing to vote for you as Hortator. I think the other Telvanni councilors will also cooperate, though some might need a little persuading. Master Neloth is ill-tempered, Mistress Dratha doesn't like men, and Mistress Therana is losing her mind. Archmagister Gothren is another problem. He will not refuse you directly, but will delay indefinitely. I recommend that you to kill Archmagister Gothren.”

That blunt speech took me aback- I wasn’t used to people talking so directly about their peers. Particularly troubling was the recommendation that I kill the Archmagister. When I asked on what grounds I could justify such an act, Aryon told me,

“Archmagister Gothren never directly refuses requests; he just delays indefinitely, never giving an answer. I don't know of any solution, other than killing Gothren. I'll tell you plainly. I stand to gain if Archmagister Gothren dies. I say this so you won't think I'm trying to trick you. My advice is still good. Gothren won't name you Hortator, but he'll never come out and say so. And in House Telvanni it is customary to settle disputes in this manner.”

In the beginning, I had feared the Telvanni because of their great magical powers. Now I began to wonder if all those years of isolation and dabbling in the arcane hadn’t unbalanced every one of them. I could not imagine Athyn Sarethi so matter-of-factly telling me that my best course of action would be to kill Bolvyn Venim. And I had reason to believe that Athyn wouldn’t exactly be heartbroken if something did happen to the Redoran Archmaster. But the first Telvanni councilor I encountered told me to kill the head of the council as casually as someone else might order a drink. Shaking off my confusion, I thanked Aryon for his support and his advice and got out of there. No matter what Aryon said, there must be a way of becoming Telvanni Hortator without trying to kill the Archmagister. And I could also sound out the other councilors first. As it soon turned out, Aryon was by far the most rational of the lot.
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Soulseeker3.0
post Apr 16 2005, 03:36 AM
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Great job Treydog!!


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This was pretty unusual, because most children at his age wanted to become great warriors, known all through time as saviors of, well, anything - Toroabok
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Aki
post Apr 16 2005, 09:10 PM
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[size=24]S.

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"You’ve put up a good fight, but I’m through playing. Now I’m going to kick your [censored] and tell of my glory under the next full moon. Die well.”

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Soulseeker3.0
post Apr 16 2005, 09:11 PM
Post #15


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ok, am I the only one that doesn't get the whole s.g.m. thing??


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SKA


This was pretty unusual, because most children at his age wanted to become great warriors, known all through time as saviors of, well, anything - Toroabok
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OverrideB1
post Apr 16 2005, 09:27 PM
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[quote=Soulseeker3.0]ok, am I the only one that doesn't get the whole s.g.m. thing??[/quote]
iI admit it took me a while but...

Story Good, More biggrin.gif


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Soulseeker3.0
post Apr 16 2005, 09:29 PM
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oh... *goes to a corner and hits himself*


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This was pretty unusual, because most children at his age wanted to become great warriors, known all through time as saviors of, well, anything - Toroabok
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treydog
post Apr 17 2005, 04:04 AM
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[quote=Soulseeker3.0]ok, am I the only one that doesn't get the whole s.g.m. thing??[/quote]

Have to admit, the first time I saw it as "S.G.M." I didn't know what it meant either.... :embarrassed2:

And I'm the one who originated the "phrase" (in Minque's thread, I think.)

So don't feel too bad about not seeing the meaning.
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Soulseeker3.0
post Apr 17 2005, 04:08 AM
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[quote=treydog][quote=Soulseeker3.0]ok, am I the only one that doesn't get the whole s.g.m. thing??[/quote]

Have to admit, the first time I saw it as "S.G.M." I didn't know what it meant either.... :embarrassed2:

And I'm the one who originated the "phrase" (in Minque's thread, I think.)

So don't feel too bad about not seeing the meaning.[/quote]

yay i'm not the only one!!! smile.gif


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This was pretty unusual, because most children at his age wanted to become great warriors, known all through time as saviors of, well, anything - Toroabok
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jonajosa
post Apr 17 2005, 04:10 AM
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personally i think its a fine qoute but i think we should find another one. One thats more expressive. I seem to find myself writing the same thing over and over about peoples stories.
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