Trey in Mournhold, Chapter 7 Options

[Soulseeker3.0]

YAY! Explosives!

Great job, 'specially the figuring out what the satchel charges were

[mplantinga]

My favorite line was definitely this one:

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.

It does, however, make me more than a bit worried about what will happen next to our dear Trey.

[Soulseeker3.0]

My favorite line was definitely this one:

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.

It does, however, make me more than a bit worried about what will happen next to our dear Trey.

true

[treydog]

From what I could decipher in the Dwemer book, the idea was to place the fire-pack in a crevice in the obstruction and activate it by pulling a handle attached to a thick cord. This apparently would release the fire contained within the pack. There were also indications that a child had gotten hold of the book at some point- at least that was how I interpreted the lurid drawings that defaced some of the pages. They were done in red ink and showed dismembered bodies and other graphic illustrations of violence. The pages that bore the drawings also contained Dwemer words printed in large red letters- possibly the name of the vandal who had scribbled in the book. Operating the fire-pack seemed simple enough, so I followed the indicated procedure and stood back to watch with great interest. I was deeply curious as to how the device would work, and also had a fleeting moment to wonder how one stopped such a fire from burning away everything. And then there was no more time for thinking. A flash of orange and red seared my eyes and a great rumbling roar filled the broad corridor. Rocks of all sizes flew at me too fast to evade. At the same time, I was sent flying as well. It was as if a massive hand had grasped me and pulled me backwards. That sensation was followed by a sudden stop as I was slammed into a wall and then things began to hit me with great force. Mercifully, one of the objects struck my head and knocked me out.

When I at last woke up, it was difficult to decide what hurt worse- my head, my ribs, my limbs, or my back. Then there were the rocks that lay on top of and underneath me. The dust in my mouth was just an added bonus. For several minutes I contemplated the benefits of simply allowing this to be my grave- I certainly felt like death was an attractive alternative to all the aches and pains I was suffering. But waiting for death to claim me would mean enduring all that pain for some indeterminate time. So it seemed that staying alive was the best choice, particularly if I had the opportunity to kill whoever or whatever was responsible for the infernal buzzing noise that seemed to originate somewhere between my ears. The only good thing about how many parts of me hurt was that it demonstrated that all of those parts were still present and clamoring for attention. After some consideration, I moved each arm and then each leg. That caused a cascade of stones from atop me, and I squinted at the dim light of the corridor. If I could have found a way to move the rest of myself while leaving my head where it was, I would gladly have done so. That was especially true as I seemed to not be using my head for anything more significant than to prevent my ears from slamming into each other. If any of my deeds was ever worthy of a medal for bravery, it was sitting up. As I did so, the last of the debris fell away from my abused body, and I turned the air blue with my cursing. I cursed the Dwemer, their devices, and their ancestors; I cursed Almalexia and her ancestors. And finally, I cursed my own unquenchable curiosity, which caused me to fool with things that I did not understand. That improved my mental state considerably, and a couple of healing potions did the same for my bruises and the ringing in my ears.

Having decided to live for a bit longer, I examined the opening from which all of those rocks had been removed. Although still somewhat cramped, it was clearly large enough now to accommodate me. Therefore, I gathered my scattered wits and equally scattered gear and pushed through to the other side. I have little to say regarding the remaining section of the Dwemer ruin- it was much the same as I had already seen- a maze of desolate passages patrolled by deadly mechanical sentries. The corridors tended downward and finally reached an area that was knee-deep in water. A final door gave onto a vast, domed chamber, which was dominated by the largest Dwemer machine I had ever encountered. The machine was located in the center of the room and consisted of five tall spires which reached to the ceiling and perhaps beyond. A number of walkways radiated out to a perimeter gallery. Below the gallery and walkways was a pool of water, which was probably used by the machine. A close examination revealed a socket which seemed designed to accommodate the device Almalexia had given me. On the wall opposite that side of the device was a great metal shutter that moved on rails. Finally, a set of three levers stood at the end of a platform facing the shutter.

With some trepidation, recalling what had happened the last time I activated a Dwemer device, I plugged the artifact into the socket. Although arcane lights seemed to flicker within the object, there was no other sign. Pleased that nothing seemed to be intent on killing me, I turned to the levers. Pulling the left-hand one caused the metal panel on the wall to slide to the right. As it did so, it was revealed as a great, curved piece of metal, inscribed with pictures of various weather conditions, assuming one considered astronomical and geological as well as meteorological phenomena to fall under the heading of “weather.” There were representations of nightfall, lightning storms, and others that I could not interpret. The icon of an erupting volcano seemed to be what I needed, and a fair amount of fiddling with the levers finally brought it to a stop in the opening on the wall. All that remained was to return to the city and see what I had wrought.

Above ground, the sky and sun were obscured by blowing ash- it was as bad as any storm I had ever seen on Vvardenfell. The people covered their faces with their arms or with makeshift cloth filters to combat the choking particles. In short, it was just the sort of thing to please a maniacal deity determined to prove that her powers were not slipping. Anxious to complete this distasteful task, I hurried to the Temple, where I was immediately ushered in to see Almalexia. The goddess’ face maintained its usual cool composure, but her eyes seemed to glow with an unhealthy light even as she praised my actions.

“Well, done Trey! This is the effect I was looking for! Ash storms in Mournhold. My magic will prevent anyone from tampering with the machine.”

The brief congratulations were quickly followed by a not-so-veiled threat:

“You will, of course, keep silent about this. My powers are a bit drained, mortal… but they are not gone. My Ordinators will take care of the End of Times cult and their leader. You may leave me now.”

So the goddess had her ash storm, although it did not appear that she was completely pleased. It seemed to have made her madness worse rather than calmed it. Perhaps it was the knowledge that the long-vanished Dwemer still had abilities that she could neither duplicate nor understand that burned in her heart. Or possibly she was simply so far gone into insanity that there was no coming back, only a final, inevitable breakdown. In any event, I decided that she could have her fun for a day or two and then I would see about powering down the weather machine. As I headed toward the Winged Guar, I listened avidly to the conversations around me, hoping to hear resentment building against Helseth. What I heard instead chilled me to the bone. Seven people had been found dead in their homes, apparent suicides. They appeared to have taken poison- and each of them was dressed in the white robes of the End of Times cult. With a feeling of dread, I realized that they must have decided that they had received a sign of impending doom- an ash storm- an ash storm that I had brought about.

[The Metal Mallet]

Uh-oh, guilt. A very hard emotion to deal with. Hopefully Trey can overcome that and try to set things right.

Solid as ever Trey (I'm probably starting to sound like a broken record with that comment but it's true!). I really like the contemplation on Almalexia's sanity.

[mplantinga]

I'm glad that Trey survived his explosive situation, but I doubt that his innate curiosity has been abated at all by the event. I agree with shiny hammer that guild will be a problem for Trey; I too hope that he'll be able to move past it with time. Thanks again for another intriguing update.

[Soulseeker3.0]

see kids, cursing does make you feel better.

And guilt... I hate guilt, it makes you feel... guilty, yes very deep. Well, Trey'll get over it, right?

[canis216]

Methinks that Trey will need a drink...

[Black Hand]

Great Job Trey.

[minque]

Another brilliant installation.....our Trey obviously has a lil´boy inside him, tampering with technical items, and thus..get things to blow up! I´m glad he survived though!

Nowadays a luny like Almalexia would have been taken into custody, but not in Mournhold...oh no...

The plot tightens and Trey encountered a nasty feeling of guilt...hmmm I´ll keep my fingers crossed for him that´s for sure!

Oh and I´ll be waiting eagerly for the next part.....

Btw this amused me a lot:

Operating the fire-pack seemed simple enough, so I followed the indicated procedure and stood back to watch with great interest. I was deeply curious as to how the device would work, and also had a fleeting moment to wonder how one stopped such a fire from burning away everything. And then there was no more time for thinking. A flash of orange and red seared my eyes and a great rumbling roar filled the broad corridor. Rocks of all sizes flew at me too fast to evade. At the same time, I was sent flying as well.

[jack cloudy]

I sepecially loved the bit with the *child* drawings. Somehow I believe it was a serious warning that Trey failed to understand. Luckily he carries so many potions on him it forms a second layer of armour. (Yes, I read that in an earlier part) Good work.

[treydog]

I sepecially loved the bit with the *child* drawings. Somehow I believe it was a serious warning that Trey failed to understand. Luckily he carries so many potions on him it forms a second layer of armour. (Yes, I read that in an earlier part) Good work.

Right both times . Misinterpreting the warning text and accompanying drawings was probably somewhat "intentional" on Trey's part- "But I want to see the pretty fire! I want to watch things go 'BOOM!'" And I decided to use his knowledge of alchemy against him- he knows a lot, but not about explosives....

[treydog]

I believed that the ash storm had precipitated the suicides, but I had to be certain. Therefore, I hastened to Godsreach, where I found Eno Romari in a transport of ecstasy, crowing that the end of times had come, just as he had prophesied. Gaining his attention, I asked him what he meant and he pointed upward at the falling ash and proclaimed,

“The power of the Tribunal weakens and that of Red Mountain grows. See how Dagoth Ur stretches forth his hand even unto Mournhold! Some of the faithful have already completed the Cleansing, going ahead to strengthen us in the coming battle.”

In a shaking voice, I told the prophet that the ash storm was none of Dagoth Ur’s doing, but my own, at the prompting of Almalexia. I hoped those words might prove to him that what he took as a sign was simply the machinations of the goddess, but he interpreted it differently. He laughed maniacally and intoned,

“The goddess created these storms to teach my group true power? So much the better. They will come to me in droves! This madness is surely another sign of the troubles to come!”

It appeared that no matter what happened, Romari would find a way to twist it to fit his wretched prophecy. If the sun came out, he would probably claim that it was the opening of a gate to Oblivion. Unfortunately, the root of his beliefs was not false- Almalexia had descended into madness, a madness that blinded her to the consequences of her actions. She was consumed with the need to prove that she was still powerful, and would go to any lengths in service of that need. But what excuse did I have? I had been her willing tool in this deceit, and now seven people were dead. I must make amends if I could. There was no way to bring back the seven who were lost, but perhaps I could prevent more from following them. The onset of the ash storms had prompted the suicides- perhaps if they ceased, the cultists would also pause. Without stopping to rest, I returned to Bamz-Amschend and the controls of the weather machine. But my efforts were futile- Almalexia had been true to her word and magically locked the levers in place. The ash storms would continue until I could convince her to let them end.

I wanted to scream, to drink myself into a stupor, to rage against the madness that permeated the city of Mournhold. For one of the few times in my life, I even considered committing murder. It would be easy- so easy to slip a blade between Eno Romari’s ribs and disappear into the swirling ash storm that I had created. But none of those things would stop the storm. And I could not be certain that Romari’s death would slow his followers’ march to destruction. In fact, it might have the opposite effect. What troubled me the most was that there was no time. If I was going to prevent more deaths, I would have to act quickly. The seven who were already dead were beyond my reach- but there must be others who might still be saved. I had to find some way to break through Almalexia’s insanity, to reason with her, to get her to cease her “demonstration of power.” Although hope was gone, strength was gone, I had to return to the Temple, to try to convince the goddess. But that visit was as useless as my attempt to stop the Dwemer machine. When I suggested that the storms had been effective and could now end, the goddess frowned at me and said,
“The Karstangz-Bcharn is creating the weather just as I had hoped. And it will remain this way until I am convinced that these people have learned a lesson.”

No amount of pleading on my part would change her mind, so I desperately sought some other means. Perhaps I could draw her attention outward from herself, back to her worshipers and their needs. She might be willing to exchange a favor for a favor, so I asked,

“Is there any other service I might perform for you?”

A long, uncomfortable silence ensued, as the goddess stared at me unblinking. At last, she gave a pensive sigh, an oddly human reaction from that seemingly emotionless entity. When she spoke, her voice was quieter than usual, as if she wanted only me to hear her words.

“I am well-pleased, good and faithful servant. My people look upon the elements, and see there written a divine testament to my leadership. Did ever any other god display such dominion over the earth and sky?”

I restrained myself from pointing out the obvious- that Almalexia herself had done nothing to bring about the storm, and that her people were fearful rather than worshipful. But even as those thoughts passed through my mind, she continued,

“Now, with a heavy heart, I must lay a sad burden upon you. I bid you bring the peace of understanding to Salas Valor. You see, one of my most faithful guards, one of my very own Hands of Almalexia, pledged to honor and protect and serve me in all ways, has lost his mind. Salas Valor has abandoned me, and now spews vile and slanderous untruths about me to any who would listen. I pity him, and know he is not responsible for his actions. To view the splendor of a god may drive even the strongest mortal mad. But now he presents a threat to us, and he is very dangerous. I fear you may not be able to spare his life.”

Unsure what reaction she expected, I said nothing, but merely nodded once as a sign that she should go on. That seemed to satisfy her and she explained more about the missing Hand.

“Salas Valor was once my most trusted Hand and faithful servant. But recently his behavior has been erratic. He has been quiet and unresponsive. I am afraid... I may have allowed him to come too close. It is impossible that a mortal and a god might meet on equal ground, but... perhaps he had deluded himself. I regret his lamentable state, and am sorry that I may have been partly responsible for his condition. Now Salas Valor haunts the streets and sewers of Mournhold. His wild, distracted manner frightens the people, but even my Ordinators are afraid to confront so terrible a weaponmaster and war-wizard. I beg you -- seek out Salas Valor. Relieve us of this threat to my beloved people, and bring peace to my sacred city of Mournhold.”

I left the Temple, my head filled with questions that I could not and, perhaps, did not want to- answer. First, how did Almalexia want me to “relieve the threat” posed by Salas Valor? And hard on the heels of that thought, who did the crazed Temple guardian actually threaten, other than the goddess herself? And I could not help but wonder, rather queasily, just how “close” the goddess and her guard had become. Close enough that it apparently drove the missing elf to madness- at least according to Almalexia. And finally, who did she really want to survive this encounter: the renegade Hand- or the Breton who now knew far too much about what she had been doing recently… or perhaps neither one?

[mplantinga]

It would seem that Trey has been driven to second guess everything now, driven partly by fear and partly by guilt over his own role in current events. I am definitely curious to see how he deals with Salas, especially to see if he can come up with a unique solution that does not further feed his guilt.

[canis216]

Yes, how will he deal with Salas? Her Hands (even insane ones, perhaps especially insane ones) are a lot tougher than Dark Brotherhood assassins, and Trey probably won't be sneaking up on this one, either.

Be interesting to see how Trey attempts to talk him down, first.

This post has been edited by canis216: Sep 22 2006, 04:15 AM

[Black Hand]

Actually, there is a very simple and effective manuever for the more stealthy types, I have played the combat, magic, and stealth specializations in Morrowind, and I found that my level 100 Acrobatics and Marksman allowed me to make mincemeat of Salas Valor from nearby rooftops, that may not be 'honorable', but he fights with a sword that damages and absorbs your strength,....evens out the fight if you keep your distance as far as I am concerned.

Once more Trey, fantastic job.

[canis216]

Well then, for Trey's sake, I hope he can leap onto a rooftop. Somehow I doubt it. But I'm sure Trey will find some way to get the job done; he's very resourceful.

[Soulseeker3.0]

Guilt does make you second guess alot. Well, I can't wait to see how Trey Deals with Valor

[minque]

Guilt does make you second guess alot. Well, I can't wait to see how Trey Deals with Valor

Hmm aye.....What dear Soulie just said....My hero Trey just has to deal with things he really doeasn´t like very much..ehh that is knowing Trey, which I dare say I do by now. I´m convinced though thsat he´ll come through it...he just has to, right!

Can´t wait to read the thrilling continuation. Trey is very important to me, I´ve come to know him and I think the world of him....

[treydog]

A short one this time- but it just seemed like a good place to stop.... By the way, I actually did have this written BEFORE Black Hand suggested a way to deal with Salas- guess there are only so many ways for a (relatively) weak, stealthy character to approach this kind of fight.

Finding the missing Hand of Almalexia would not be difficult- I had often seen him stalking the streets of Godsreach with a thunderous expression on his face. In fact, he seemed to spend a great deal of time near Eno Romari. If Salas Valor had decided that Almalexia was slipping into madness, his interest in the cultist made a certain amount of sense- the former Temple warrior likely believed at least some of what the End of Times priest was saying about the weakening of the Tribunal. I was even more sure of another thing- I had no chance of defeating such a fearsome warrior in anything approaching a fair fight. Of course, one of the reasons I was still alive was that I had long ago discarded foolish notions of chivalry and fairness when it came to fighting. To me, it was simple- if I had to fight, I would fight to win- always. And so, even as I approached the former Hand, I was making plans. But maybe it would not come to that; maybe I could talk the formidable elf into leaving Mournhold. That hope lasted only as long as it took for Salas Valor to look at me with haunted eyes and grind out the words,

“So. You’re her new dog.”

To this day, I am not certain how he knew I was there at Almalexia’s bidding, but he did. Perhaps he saw some of his own madness and agony reflected in my eyes. Before I could even begin to frame a calming reply, Valor continued,

“She has sent you for me. Now YOU are her favorite. How convenient. Whichever of us dies…she will be well pleased. And if both of us die, so much the better. Well, I am content. Perhaps this is how it was meant to end. I ask the forgiveness of all the gods and spirits—whoever they may be. And you, too, might make your peace with your gods, because at least one of us will not live to see another sunset.”

I was taken aback by how closely his thoughts paralleled my own- at least insofar as divining what Almalexia really wanted to happen. Nevertheless, I remained focused and alert, for I was facing a deadly fighter. Even so the legal niceties had to be observed. Although Salas Valor had challenged me, I could not strike first without being guilty of a crime. Even worse, if I killed one of Almalexia’s Hands “without provocation,” the penalty would be death. Thus, I had to hold my ground as he drew a wicked ebony scimitar and swung with all his might. At the last second, I lifted my shield and deflected the blow slightly. That meant that the shield shattered instead of my arm. Nevertheless, the sword’s enchantments did almost more damage than I could absorb, draining my strength and stamina, while also blasting me with an icy chill. I had steeled myself for the blow and immediately threw away my broken shield as Valor was recovering from his forceful swing. Rather than draw my own sword, I leapt for the overhanging porch roof of the Winged Guar and pulled myself up. The Hand was so surprised that he did not even have a chance to hack at my vulnerable legs. As soon as I was secure, I barked the magical syllables- “bogha tromhad” and a magical bow appeared in my hands. Setting an arrow to the string, I made my first mistake, for I chose one endowed with a fire spell. When the missile struck, a bloom of flame enveloped the raging fighter below, but a similar blast scorched me, as well. He obviously possessed some means of reflecting magical damage onto an attacker. With that knowledge, I switched to normal arrows, which I drew and loosed as fast as I could. Encumbered by his armor and sword, Valor could not duplicate my acrobatic feat- he also knew that I would take his head off if he tried. Oddly, though, he neither sought shelter nor simply retreated; instead, he stood below me, maintaining a constant stream of invective. At last, having absorbed a great many arrows, he removed his helm, and, with a ghastly smile, placed the point of his scimitar to his throat and pitched forward to impale himself upon the blade. Even with so grievous a wound, it took him some time to die. I understood why the Ordinators had been afraid to confront him.