Trey in Mournhold, Chapter 7 Options

[treydog]

After leaving the Temple, I did what I should have done in the first place- went to my hideout in the Palace basement and stayed out of sight. My thought was that maybe if I didn’t talk to anyone, I would not get into any more trouble. As the long hours passed, I argued the merits of complying with Almalexia or ignoring her. I also contemplated the interesting irony that the “goddess” planned to demonstrate that she was not losing her power by means of an ancient Dwemer device- and that she justified that decision by falsely claiming that she was momentarily exhausted from her efforts at healing. I had the feeling that I was upon the threshold of some significant understanding, but I could not quite grasp it. All too soon, the time came for me to traverse the Palace halls to Barenziah’s antechamber. As I had been instructed, I closed the doors to the corridor and to the inner apartment. Then I studied the layout, keeping in mind that this was a trap set for me, rather than for assassins on some mythical quest to harm the Queen Mother. A pair of screens formed a small alcove in one corner, and someone had thoughtfully provided a couple of chairs. There was also a large candle, perfectly placed to silhouette anyone standing behind the screens. It was clear that a great deal of planning had gone into designing this ambush- the chairs, the candle, the screens. I imagined a chivalrous but naïve would-be hero, anxious to protect the Queen Mother. Such a fellow would arrive early, because he would be eager to start his vigil. But such duty is wearisome, particularly for a young man primed for the clash of blades. So our imaginary hero sits down in one of the comfortable chairs- only for a moment! The quiet and the flicker of the candle flame lull him- and perhaps there is something more? Some reason it is important for the doors to be closed? I snuffed the candle and cut it in half lengthwise. Sure enough, the wick and the wax contained a sleep-inducing powder. Someone had wanted to make very certain, indeed.

With the candle out, I had perhaps balanced the odds a bit, but there remained the question of who would come calling in the still watches of the night- and how many. I had a feeling that I knew the answers- at least to some extent. This little drama had been set in motion by Helseth, so that meant the Dark Brotherhood. The last few times I had been “visited” by those killers, they had come in pairs. And none of those assassins had ever returned. That meant I should expect at least three and possibly more. Without access to levitation, such a group of opponents would surely prevail against me- I had only to recall the outcome of my imagined attack on Helseth to know the result of taking on so many foes in a small space. And, despite the pretext that the Queen Mother was the target, I could not expect any help from the Royal Guards. To survive I would have to prevent my attackers from surrounding me; ideally, I would have to prevent them from getting within reach of me. After a quick rummage through my paraphernalia, I was ready- except for one more magical preparation that I thought it prudent to make. After hiding the remains of the powder-laced candle, I slipped behind the screens to wait. There was no other concealment in the room, so I would have to at least follow the script on that point.

The minutes crawled by agonizingly, but I was immune to impatience or worry or fear. I had done all that I could- everything else I simply expelled with my breathing. It was almost a disappointment when I saw shadows appear under the outer door and heard the rattle of the latch. Head bowed, I still waited; there was no need to rush; I had all the time in the world. At last, the door swung open and I heard hoarse whispers- a Dunmer muttering, “…supposed to be here somewhere,” answered by another’s plaintive, “He told us in the Queen Mother’s chambers.” A final voice, its tone clearly indicating an attempt to maintain control, suggested, “Look behind the screens.” That was my cue to act.

Smoothly, I stepped from behind the screen to see three black-clad figures in the center of the room. In my hands I held a special scroll, one I had purchased from Ten-Tongues. Normally, I don’t like to use scrolls in combat- it is hard to concentrate on reading when people are intent on sticking you with the pointy bits of their swords. But this scroll contained a spell called Illnea’s Breath. As I finished the words, a cloud of icy vapor enveloped the assassins and they were literally frozen in place. The scroll disappeared in a puff of magical smoke, revealing another that I had held beneath the first. Unfortunately, I did not have another Illnea’s Breath, but I did have a number of Elemental Burst: Frost scrolls. Fresh layers of ice formed on the three figures as I read the scrolls as fast as I safely could. Soon, the paralysis from Illnea’s Breath wore off and the Dark Brothers began to move. Letting them reach me was no part of my plan, so I clutched my Divine Intervention amulet and spoke the command word. When I appeared in the Palace courtyard, I paused only long enough to loosen my sword in its sheath and ready a final scroll. With a deep breath, I drank a Recall potion to take me back to the location I had Marked in the antechamber- the corner opposite the one from whence I had just disappeared. My hope was that I would appear behind my attackers, and it worked- mostly. They were still tightly bunched, fighting the effects of the frost spells, but they were closer to me than I would have liked. Worse yet, one of them was facing me when I reappeared. With a convulsive effort, I shouted the words from my final frost scroll and was gratified to see two of them crash to the floor with ice coating their bodies. The final assassin fell too, but turned his drop into a somersault which brought him to his feet directly before me. Quick as a viper, he struck with a short blade that glinted dully but cut through my armor as though it was paper. I drew my own sword and riposted with all the strength that panic could lend my arm- I knew that I could not take many more wounds from his blade. Fortunately, my adrenaline-fueled lunge was enough- the last assassin gasped and slid off my sword to join his comrades on the floor.

Throughout the struggle, no sound had come from the Queen Mother’s apartment, nor from the outer corridor. It was clear that anyone who might have heard the sounds of battle had decided to await the outcome before investigating. That hesitation give me time to search the bodies quickly and to confirm my suspicions. Their armor had identified them as belonging to the Dark Brotherhood; tattoos on their arms showed that they were senior members. Perhaps the most interesting point was what I did not find- none of them carried poisoned blades, usually a trademark of the death cult. Instead, their short-swords were forged of adamantium, an incredibly rare, incredibly dense substance used to make the finest arms and armor. It appeared that someone was concerned lest my death be attributed to poisoning- and I could immediately name one person who might have reason to be sensitive about that subject. Helseth had once again tried to have me murdered, this time using his own mother as bait. The fact that this latest attempt had so nearly succeeded tempered my raging fury; I must not allow myself to take foolish risks. The spells I had used to defeat the assassins gave me inspiration- I must be cold, cold and patient, like a glacier that grinds away mountains. Wrapping my robe around my rent and bloody armor, I ghosted away, down to the basement. Once I reached my hiding place, I took a healing potion, then cleaned and repaired my armor. I wanted to look my best when I called upon the king.

[The Metal Mallet]

I love that you add little extra tidbits to familiar quests. In this case, with the booby trap candle, and the obvious exposure from the candlelight. Trey's suspicions are definitely voiced well.

I wonder what Helseth's reaction will be when he next meets Trey...

[canis216]

Nice battle strategy! Great entry!

[treydog]

It was a fun fight scene to write- the strategy grew out of necessity- poor Trey died repeatedly trying to go toe-to-toe with the DB. Also discovered (again) that the direction you were facing when you cast Mark is the direction you will face when you cast Recall- i.e., if you are looking at the wall when you cast the first one, you will teleport in facing the wall. With your back to the assassins. Eeeep.

[jack cloudy]

Ah, strategy. The way Trey prepared that fight shows that he's definitely not as dumb as most warriors out there. I admit I played with mark/recall maneouvres myself but I never found any use for them in a combat situation. Switching from spells to a weapon takes too long and they eat up valuable Magicka for offensive spells.

Once again a wonderfull update. It would be awesome if Helseth got shocked by the reappearance of Trey, but unfortunately he's too much of a political player to show his surprise. (Though he can get a shocked expression if you use the right spell. )

[minque]

Oh Trey! I wish you all luck in Tamriel when you pay your visit to Helseth! phew.....you really know how to keep us readers attentive to the last word.....Can´t wait to see what happens next. Naturally Trey will come up with some intelligent planning for his next move!

[mplantinga]

Some excellent strategy in this last installment; it is clear that you had fun writing this part. I was particularly appreciative of the added depth in your description of this event, especially the lack of poisoned blades. A very successful attempt to take this story, once again, way beyond the limited mechanics of the game itself.

[canis216]

It was a fun fight scene to write- the strategy grew out of necessity- poor Trey died repeatedly trying to go toe-to-toe with the DB. Also discovered (again) that the direction you were facing when you cast Mark is the direction you will face when you cast Recall- i.e., if you are looking at the wall when you cast the first one, you will teleport in facing the wall. With your back to the assassins. Eeeep.

After I read the fight I played Tribunal some and tried that "Mark" strategy. Yep, I ended up facing the wall. But I guess my character must be a little tougher than Trey (or, more likely, has better enchantments) because the gaffe was not fatal. I love this story.

[treydog]

He is actually considerably "under-powered" for doing Tribunal- less than 100 health, no serious melee weaponry (silver longsword with fire enchant), etc. Makes the fights- interesting.

[Black Hand]

WOnderful to see your continuing the story, after a month of waiting!! You really know how to leave them wanting more!

Personally, I hate overpowered characters, playing is no fun without the fear of death.

[Soulseeker3.0]

Very nice Trey and excelent food for thought. I loved the battle, ingenious, I always took the hack and slash brute way of doing it, no matter what char I had... I wasn't to good at the Role play aspect of rpg's

Long walks may be good for your health, but only if you pay attention to where your feet are taking you.

[treydog]

Although my heart leaped with savage joy to see the surprise on Helseth’s face when I entered the Throne Room, I schooled my own features to stillness. Before, I had been content to let the devious monarch underestimate me. Now, I wanted him to wonder- about how I could have defeated three senior assassins and yet appear not to have a hair out of place; about whether I knew the true target of the attempt. For that same reason, I had taken no trophies, just let the bodies lie where they fell, as if they were of no consequence. For the first time, I made a minimal bow to Helseth and quietly said,

“I am pleased to report that the assassination plot failed. Unfortunately, all the attackers are dead, so it will not be possible to question them and discover their employer.”

The king recovered from his surprise and studied me closely before responding,

“You were able to hold off the assassins. Interesting. Perhaps the threat was not as great as it seemed. We commend you. Take this as a show of our appreciation.”

With that, he handed me an amulet that glowed with magicka. As I studied the trinket, he continued,

“We are impressed with your efforts so far. When you are ready, speak to me about further service to your king.”

What I was ready to do was leave- quickly. Despite my resolve to remain calm, I could only take so much of Helseth’s presence. In fact, it was only with great effort that I did not throw his amulet back at him while expressing my thought- that I would rather put my neck in a noose than wear his bauble.

While it is true that anger and adrenaline saved my life a number of times, it is equally true that my uncertain temper put me into life-threatening situations even more frequently. However, the episode that followed my departure from the Throne Room is one that haunts me to this day, not because of the risks to my own life but rather due to the consequences to others. Perhaps the strain of dealing on a regular basis with the king who had plotted to have me killed unhinged me somewhat, or possibly some of Almalexia’s madness had infected me…. Or perhaps madness is merely an excuse, a vain attempt to avoid responsibility. But I am running ahead of my story, so let me place things in their proper order and leave any judgment to you.

When the goddess had first proposed that I create an ash storm in Mournhold, I had planned to ignore that request. It was becoming increasingly clear that Almalexia was losing her power, as well as her sanity. And I had grown tired of assisting in her ever more delusional schemes to “prove” her power. In fact, had she not dismissed me so abruptly, I might have thrown her blasted Dwemer tea-kettle at her head and told her to make her own storm if she wanted one so badly. Was she not a goddess, after all? But Helseth’s latest treachery had brought my burning anger back to him and I vowed to make him suffer as I had suffered. The people of Mournhold, particularly the more traditional Dunmer, were uncertain of their new king. He seemed to be spurning many ancient customs as he sought to make the monarchy functional rather than merely ceremonial. The sudden onset of an ash storm might be interpreted as a sign that the ancestors and the gods were not happy with the new king and his changes. And I believed that anything that weakened Helseth was a good thing. So it was that I went directly from the Palace to the broken statue in the Plaza Brindisi Dorom and down the ladder into ruined Bamz-Amschend.

As I reached the opening that looked out over the great hall in the Dwemer ruin, the skittering sound of metal on metal alerted me to the fact that not all of the mechanical guardians had fallen in the battle with the fabricants. It was the work of seconds to conjure a magical bow, and I foolishly anticipated that I would have no problems dealing with the remaining metal monsters left behind by the ancient elves. That was true as far as the small spider-like device and its larger, warrior-like companion were concerned. Overconfident, I clambered down the fallen column and reached the floor, where I sighted a metal sphere which I recognized as another type of guardian. What I failed to realize was that these Dwemer had developed a variation on the spherical fighting machines that I had encountered previously. Instead of a sword, this construct made use of a hollow arm loaded with powerful darts. Before I had time to react, one of the deadly missiles had pierced me and actually pinned me to the wall, like a moth on a card. All that saved me was that the machine was rather slow- either due to its extreme age or from damage suffered in the earlier battle. Even today, I do not know where I found the strength, but I had only one choice; I could not pull the dart out of the wall, all that was left was to pull myself off of it. A spasmodic lurch freed me, and I dropped to the floor behind some broken stone. Darts clattered around me as the mindless watcher tried to finish the job, and I scrabbled for a healing draught. Eventually, my lack of movement must have convinced the machine that I was no longer a threat, for I heard it rumble off to another part of the room. When I felt sufficiently recovered, I risked a glance over the top of my sanctuary. My tormentor was a few dozen feet away, back in its dormant state, appearing to be nothing but a large ball of Dwemer metal. Bitter experience had taught me better, so I held three arrows between the fingers of my right hand as I once more summoned a magical bow. The first arrow punched through the hard metal and awakened the mechanism to its peril- it rose upright only to fly to pieces as the second and third bolts destroyed it. In a way, I was sorry that all that remained of the Dwemer machines were piles of metal; I would have liked to study the new types more closely. Unfortunately, it is extremely difficult to study something that seems single-mindedly intent on killing you. I was able to recover some of the final machine’s deadly darts, which I added to my own dwindling arsenal. With the immediate danger neutralized, I set off to explore more of the ruin.

[The Metal Mallet]

Yea, anger and vengeance aren't usually the best reasoning devices

Solid work once more Trey, can't wait to see the further description of the ruin.

[Soulseeker3.0]

YAY! desiding to do somthing because of angewr is always helpful..... interesting part with the dart and you getting pinned to the wall. great job. and please give some more battle scenes, you are creative. they aren't the standard "I hit him, he hit me, and then i killed him"

[mplantinga]

An excellent description of the battle with the centurion archer. As others have already said, it demonstrates your great creativity and the very high caliber of your battle scene descriptions. Thanks for another excellent installment.

[jack cloudy]

Oh boy, hello Helseth. SURPRISE! I loved that scene. And the Centurion was great. I love everything Dwemer so this update was a success as far as I'm concerned.

[treydog]

My careful circuit of the great hall of Bamz-Amschend revealed doors exiting from the north and south ends, plus additional destroyed Dwemer battle machines and dead fabricants. As fascinating as the ruins might have been at another time, I could not focus on anything but the task at hand. Looking back, I think that may have been as much because I did not want to think too deeply about my actions as because I wanted revenge against the king. In any event, I decided to try the north door first for no particular reason; however, I was wise enough to stay in the shadows and move carefully. The memory of being spiked to the wall was quite fresh in my mind and I wanted every advantage I could get if I encountered any more Dwemer machines. My caution was almost immediately rewarded- I was able to ambush one of the archer spheres and destroy it before it fired a single dart. When I examined the weaponry that the ruined mechanism had carried, I was even more pleased that I had been careful. The darts were incredibly sharp and bore wicked barbs and vanes to increase their damage. Only a few would likely be sufficient to kill me, armored though I was. As I wrapped the missiles in some heavy sacking, it occurred to me that perhaps the Black Dart gang had found some of these weapons and patterned their darts after them.

It was strange to slip ghost-like down the empty corridors and think that the builders were gone and had been for so many centuries. Occasional piles of a peculiar sort of ash on chairs or accompanying a scatter of equipment gave me a queasy feeling that the Dwemer were perhaps not completely gone. The architecture was magnificent, but also depressing. There was no life in it, no celebration of plants or animals of any sort. Instead, it seemed that these elves had worshipped the crafting of metal and of machines that imitated life. The place was a maze of doors and ramps which perhaps had made sense to the mechanically-inclined, but quickly disoriented me. One path seemed as good- or bad- as another; all the corridors took me deeper underground. At last, I came upon a doorway that was flanked by Dwemer breastplates and halberds, as if a pair of guards had once been posted there. The door itself was not marked in any way, but my thief’s instincts told me that anything worth guarding was probably worth stealing- or at least investigating.

What I found was more in the nature of a workshop, which should not have surprised me. After all, what was more likely to be a closely-guarded “shrine” amongst such a mechanistic people? There were a few gems and other trinkets that found their way into my pockets, but I took them almost reflexively, with no real pleasure. Most of the doors opened at a touch- a tribute to the skill of the builders. I did come upon one door that defied my abilities; I disarmed the magical trap, but the lock was of a type I had never seen before. Although it galled me to leave that area unexplored, I had no choice but to try the other doors. Mostly, I found dust and emptiness, with an occasional metallic guard to remind me that caution was a virtue. One room did contain an interesting artifact- a guardian machine that had apparently been under construction when the mysterious disaster befell the Dwemer. In form, the machine was similar to the human-shaped “steam centurions” I had previously encountered. However, this example of the Dwemer art was easily five times as large as any other I had seen. And sitting on a workbench was a real treasure- two ancient Dwemer texts. I could not read them, but the illustrations indicated that they were concerned with the creation of mechanical guardians. There was also a complex key, which I believed might allow me to satisfy my curiosity regarding the one locked door.

I was anxious to get past that door because it was, in fact, the final one. I had searched every other corner of this section and found nothing that resembled a “weather machine.” I had obtained several more Dwemer texts, which I carefully saved. As it turned out, the heavily secured door opened onto some sort of storeroom- there was no evidence of any type of device. Still, the many casks and chests provided several minutes diversion as I examined their contents. My systematic search revealed Dwemer artifacts which were of little interest- I did not wish to give Helseth such a ready-made excuse for legally executing me. Of course that did not apply to the books- I would gladly risk my life to possess those. The last chest I opened contained a pair of peculiar bundles tied with heavy twine and smelling of brimstone. I had no idea what they were, but they made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I carefully closed the chest and left the strange packages where they lay. I spent another hour ensuring that I had not passed by any concealed doors or passages, but the search was fruitless. Regardless of what Almalexia might say, there was no “weather witch” anywhere in this complex. Frustrated and weary, I sat upon a chunk of fallen stone at the end of a corridor and gave myself up to depression.

Now that I was not moving around, the sounds of Bamz-Amschend came to me clearly- the drip of water, the whir of Dwemer engines still performing some unfathomable task, the whistling of the cold air that was annoyingly blowing on the back of my neck… from the pile of debris behind me! As the import of that finally sank in, I scrambled to my feet and examined the rock-fall that blocked the corridor. I had first thought that it was merely a dead end, but I could now see that the passage continued on the other side of the pile. There was a small gap, but even after I shed all of my equipment, I could not wriggle through it, nor could I shift the stones sufficiently. As I dusted myself off, I glanced at the impedimentia I had dropped and noticed the Dwemer books. A half-remembered image came to me and I retrieved the volume with a cover that had somehow remained bright red. Again, I could not decipher the words, but the pictures were clear. The illustrations depicted piles of rubble and some packages that looked remarkably like the brimstone-exuding devices I had discovered earlier. If I understood the pictures at all, they seemed to indicate that the packages contained a sort of fire that could be used to remove obstructions. At last, my obsession with books had paid off. Now all I had to do was bring one of the packages to this blockage and find some way to release the fire it contained. I should have thought through all the implications, but my excitement over the chance to try out one of the mysterious devices left no room for caution.

[minque]

Another part that leads us together with Trey on his paths in Mournhold....wonderfully written with all the descriptions of Trey´s thoughts which is one of the many reasons that makes me read this story with joy!

It´s like getting a present when I find another Trey to read!

May this story continue eternally...

[The Metal Mallet]

That was a nice refreshing way to discover the use of the Dwemer Blasting Satchels. Consistant as always, Trey.

[Wolfie]

And now Trey gets to discover the joys of high yield explosives