Trey in Mournhold, Chapter 9 Options

[treydog]

Chapter 9

The makeshift carrier I had built for the sword seemed light as a feather compared to my footsteps as I made my way to the Temple and the High Chapel where Almalexia waited. She cast her other-worldly gaze upon me and asked in that cool voice,

“Have you forged the blade of Nerevar? Does it burn with the flame of righteousness?”

It was in my mind that what it burned with was the essence of Dwemer alchemy, but I decided not to say so as I uncased the blade and showed it to the goddess. She levitated upward and spun about in her delight as she proclaimed,

“The blade is reforged! Our time has almost arrived. There is but one obstacle that stands in our way, though it pains me to believe it is so. Sotha Sil. I cannot count the times I have fought by the Magician's side. It was he who stood with me the day I fought in Mournhold and banished Mehrunes Dagon to the depths of Oblivion. It was Sotha Sil who was able to delve the mysteries of Kagrenac's tools, and raise me to my rightful station. Now, though, the Tinkerer has become unstable.”

I found it interesting that she admitted that her “divinity” was actually the result of Sotha Sil’s meddling with these “Tools”- whatever they were. And if the source of his power was the same as Almalexia’s, I was willing to believe that he had become unstable. Of even more significance for my immediate purposes was the fact that this was just the sort of information Helseth had asked me to uncover. Therefore, I pursued the issue, inquiring as to the goddess’ reasons for being concerned about Sotha Sil. Her voice became distant, as if she contemplated things only she could see or recall.

“Once, Sotha Sil was like we are, the Lord Vivec and I. He spent time among these mortals, instructing them, counseling them, protecting them from harm. He may have loved them more than any of us, though I know not why. It has been many years since any have seen the Sorcerer, though. Many more since he took initiates into his service. I believe he grew weary of mortal imperfections, and retired to his Clockwork City, where he reshapes life, and some say the very world, into an image he finds pleasing.”

After a pause, she continued,

“His lair is as puzzling as the mind of the Sorcerer himself. Ever-moving, ever-changing, its levers and gears responding to its master's will alone. It is here he performs his profane experiments, aided by his magic and tainted by his madness. I have suspected for some time that the Lord Sotha Sil had entered Sheogorath's realm. His visits have been more and more infrequent, and punctuated by violent fits of anger. He began to speak of the fall of the Tribunal and the return of the Old Gods. But Sotha Sil is not a Seer; he is a Maker. He shapes the Here and the Now, while only I have been privy to what is to come. I know this...he is no longer the man he once was.”

It was disconcerting to hear Almalexia speak at such length and so frankly, when her pronouncements were normally cryptic. In one way, it was as if I was hearing one side of an argument that had raged for many years; in another way, it was as if she felt compelled to unburden herself of all her fears and suspicions, but had found no one in whom to confide. And yet, even if her words were true, they still seemed carefully crafted to show her in the best light. For example, the phrasing about “violent fits of anger” was such that it could apply to either Sotha Sil or the goddess herself. And Galsa Andrano had told me that Almalexia had changed, had become angry and vengeful. Even as I contemplated the implications and undercurrents, Almalexia seemed to reach a decision. She straightened herself and brought her gaze back from whatever distant sights she had considered. Her voice harsh with emotion, she said,

“He is completely mad. It was his creations, these Fabricants, that attacked my city. This once great man is now a danger to Mournhold and to all of Morrowind. He must be stopped, Trey.”

She looked at me steadily and continued,

“I believe it is your calling to stop Sotha Sil's mad schemings. I do not know that he can be reasoned with, Trey, but it is possible. If he cannot be, you must end his life. Though the idea saddens me, it is best for Morrowind...and it is best for him, as well. You have the power to do this. The Trueflame can kill a god, if wielded by one of noble intent. Steel yourself, Trey, and do what must be done. I will send you to his Clockwork City now, if you are prepared. Good luck, Nerevarine.”

[The Metal Mallet]

Sure it seems like she's offering Trey a choice, but obviously she isn't. Does Trey truely believe he can kill a god? I guess we'll have to see shortly. I'm sure we'll get a good idea on how Trey feels about his task quite soon.

Excellent start to this chapter, Trey!

[canis216]

Stall for time, Trey! Stall for time!

Hoo-ray, new chapter! Excellent as always.

[minque]

oh dear oh dear....another maddie! this clockwork-city reminds me of that film....A clockwork Orange...I wonder if Sotha Sil is as creepy as that film!?

We´ll find out.....


S.G.M

[Fuzzy Knight]

Remember this part well from the Tribunal main quest, I'm really looking forward to next update Trey - think it will be a very good one! Start of chapter nine is, as all your updates, very nicely written and the description of Trey's thoughts and other characters etc. is wonderful - which I believe I've said at nearly every reply in your story! Keep it up Trey!

[treydog]

I was most assuredly not prepared to go to the Clockwork City or anywhere else- other than far away from Almalexia and Helseth, but that was not an option. I could, however, buy a little desperately-needed time. Therefore, I said,

“I will need to make some preparations.”

The goddess was clearly not used to someone who contradicted her wishes. Her annoyance was evident as she frowned at me and said,

“There is little time to waste. Make your preparations quickly.”

Not wishing to give her a chance to change her mind, I scuttled out of the High Chapel and back to the Palace basement. Once I reached my safe haven, I took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm my racing heart. Deep inside, I knew that I was close to the conclusion of the adventure that had begun when the first Dark Brotherhood assassin attacked me. It had seemed so simple- find the assassins, find the source of the attacks, and deal with it. Instead, every step I had taken had drawn me deeper into the mire. My search for personal revenge had been overwhelmed by the forces in control of Mournhold. I could have, perhaps, lived with the knowledge that Almalexia was dangerously unstable, but I could not ignore my part in feeding her power. Because of me, she had Barilzar’s ring; because of me, ash storms darkened the skies of the city. Ruefully, I wondered if I might not have been better served to simply deal with the assassination attempts piecemeal, for the rest of my life if necessary, instead of throwing myself into the mad maelstrom that was Mournhold. Unfortunately, regrets are only for those who can afford them- I had made my choices and I must live with them. The question that confronted me was what preparations to make before I faced Sotha Sil, ancient magician, mechanical genius, and deity. Almalexia claimed that Trueflame had the power to kill even a god, but I had to wonder. How likely was it that the goddess would so freely tell a mortal that he possessed the means to destroy her? In any event, the preparations I needed to make were more mental than physical. My armor and weapons were in good repair; I had what restorative potions I had been able to brew; and I quickly decided which of my few magic items would be of any use. Unfortunately, I had no reports of what might reside in the Clockwork City; therefore, it would be difficult to plan. The one thing I did know was that Sotha Sil was a great wizard- and I would have to depend mostly upon my innate resistance to magic as a defense against that. Still, it would be wise to create or obtain potions that reflected, absorbed, or protected against harmful magicka. That task was accomplished easily enough and then I waited a few hours- more for the sake of demonstrating my independence than because I needed the time, before returning to the Temple.

When I entered the High Chapel, Almalexia greeted me with a look in her eyes that was even stranger than usual and asked,

“Are you prepared now to stop Sotha Sil and take your place amongst the gods?”

I desperately wanted to respond that that would be “’Yes’ to the first and ‘No’ to the second,” but I had a feeling that the goddess had lost her sense of humor along with her humanity. And I was again struck by the ambiguity of her words- she had not asked if I wanted to “become” a god, but if I wanted to “take my place amongst” them. That struck me as being uncomfortably close to asking if I wanted to “meet my ancestors.” Of course, even if she did mean to imply that I could become a deity, my answer would have been negative- I had seen too clearly what power and immortality had done to one member of the Tribunal and I wanted no part of her madness. However she had achieved godhood, she had lost her soul. What I wanted was to be left alone, to be myself, to have a life untroubled by gods or monarchs. Of course, she could not grant me those wishes, even if she would, so I simply nodded to indicate my readiness to go to the Clockwork City. Almalexia touched something on her left hand with the fingers of her right and spoke words in a language I did not know. Then came the stomach-wrenching, twisting sensation of teleportation magic and I was…elsewhere.

The corridor to which the goddess had sent me was familiar and yet alien- patterned after the Dwemer works I had previously entered, but taken further. Like the Dwemer ruins, it was also in a state of disrepair, with tumbled stones and several inches of water covering the floor. Further along, roots had broken through the ceiling and hung down, questing for the floodwaters below. I was less than impressed. If Sotha Sil was such a genius at all things mechanical, it seemed that he could at least have kept the place from flooding. That first passage ended at a round metal door with a mechanical arm that reached to the roof. A few minutes’ searching revealed a lever, which I twisted and pushed inward. With a tortured groan, the door was pulled upward and latched to the roof with a loud clank. I muttered, “So much for a stealthy entrance,” and moved forward. However, I need not have worried about guards- or anyone else- hearing the noise. All that greeted me was the whir and click of gears and the swishing sound of two great pendulums that flashed back and forth across the corridor, barring easy progress. The pendulums were in the form of crescent-shaped blades, and they operated in such a way that avoiding one would almost certainly cause an intruder to be cut in half by the other. Impatience has killed many a thief, and I recognized the inherent danger of my own desire to be done with Mournhold and its gods. Therefore, I drew several calming breaths and relaxed as I considered the timing of the pendulums. Only when I was certain that the swings were regular did I make my move. After ensuring that my footing was solid, I dove past the blades and rolled to my feet on the other side of the trap. Safely past that first check, I took time to consider this peculiar place.

The feeling that struck me then and that stays with me still was one of overwhelming loneliness. Here was the culmination of the efforts of someone who wished to separate himself from humanity and who had the power to do so. In the Dwemer ruin of Bamz-Amschend, I had noted the lack of life or any interest in the living world. But the Clockwork City was worse. It did not feel like a place where anyone was intended to live or even work. It was a great machine, set in motion and then abandoned. If it was true that Sotha Sil was working on creating new worlds or new realities, perhaps he had succeeded and gone somewhere that I could not follow. Still, I had no choice but to try. Beyond the fact that I had given my word to Almalexia and Helseth, the mystery of this place troubled me. Some might argue that a promise given to an oath-breaker was not binding, but I felt differently. It was my promise that mattered, my word that was sacred. I would do what I had promised- and I would exact a price for my suffering when I could. I could only allow myself a few moments of contemplation- just because the place seemed empty did not mean it was free of dangers.

Having negotiated the first barrier, I did not relax my vigilance, even though most of what I saw was further ruin and neglect. A sudden movement ahead of me rewarded my caution, and I observed three of the fabricant creatures that had attacked the Plaza. These particular examples were the more agile type, the bipedal sort with a large spike or horn protruding from the “snout.” Their presence seemed to confirm the idea that Sotha Sil had been behind the invasion of the Plaza. Hiding as best I could in the brightly-lit hall, I conjured a magical bow and finished the creatures without taking any wounds. I knew that simply returning with word that I had found more fabricants would not be sufficient- I needed to confront Sotha Sil himself. And, if he proved to be sane and reasonable, I might discover more about Almalexia. I therefore continued my search, finding more fabricants and more pendulum traps. In one instance, the traps worked to my benefit- a couple of the mindless fabricants killed themselves trying to get to me. After much fruitless searching, I came to a different sort of door, one that seemed to delineate a different area of this peculiar maze. Although the architecture was different, the danger was not.

[minque]

Uhhhh.......yeah of course there has to be a nice cliffie...right treydog? I´m so happy Trey managed to get past all the traps and fabricants.....I must confess I have no idea how they look like, but they do not sound like something you´d wanna meet on a dark evening in an alley....

So is it maybe Sotha Sil hiding behind this different door? I can´t wait to find out!


*waiting impatiently for the contination*

[Black Hand]

There was something more to the flow and poetic feel of this update. Like you've spent many a night going over and re-writing, if so, it was well worth the wait.

[jack cloudy]

I don't know about this but that place you just described gives me the creeps. Something is wrong there, really wrong. So I'll be waiting for the next update then.

[The Metal Mallet]

I love your interpretation of the Clockwork City, it's absolutely spot-on. I totally got a sense of isolation and solitude when I was playing there. Nothing but the endless whirring of gears; it's quite depressing.

I'm personally interested in seeing how Trey tackles the "extreme" traps that appear further on in the city...

[mplantinga]

I agree with the others that you have done a marvelous job of expressing the uniqueness, both physical and ethereal, of the Clockwork city. Somehow, I feel that even Trey will be surprised by what he finds at the end of this maze, and I'm really looking forward to seeing how you portray that event.

[treydog]

Where the previous parts of the Clockwork City had been flooded, this section was filled with sparks that cascaded from the ceiling at regular intervals. Whether that was intentional or the result of some device that had failed, I could not say. A superstitious part of me recalled that some creation stories claimed that Nirn had been born in fire and then quenched with water- perhaps these passages represented a journey to the beginning of all things. In any event, I at first tried to avoid the touch of the sparks, fearing that they might cause serious injury. Eventually, I had to pass through some of them in a narrow hall and was unharmed, so I stopped worrying about it. Still, there were numerous fabricants which would happily injure or kill me, so the rooms were not without danger. The walls were completely covered with drawings that consisted of straight lines and square shapes. If it was art or a language, I could not grasp the meaning. Perhaps the lines were plans or diagrams of some sort- or perhaps they were just the random scratchings of a mad god who believed he was creating the world anew.

There was little time to contemplate meanings, for the fabricants began to appear in groups and I was hard-pressed to stay out of their reach. I did not always succeed, for they moved with terrible speed and inflicted painful wounds with their “horns.” I had discovered quite early that levitation magic did not work, so I had to depend on my own speed and the accuracy of my arrows for protection. Although I carried Trueflame with me, I did not completely trust the blade. First, it was oddly curved, unlike the long sword with which I was familiar. Also, at least a part of it had been in Almalexia’s keeping for long years and I had no way of knowing what sort of baleful magicka she might have used upon it. And finally, it seemed remarkably foolish to try to slip quietly through this eldritch place while holding a flaming sword that was better than a town crier at announcing, “Here I am!” So the sword remained in its carrier, and I depended on a conjured bow and enchanted arrows for my extermination of the mechanical creatures. If I ever found Sotha Sil, perhaps I would have a chance to discover whether or not Trueflame really had the power to harm a god. Meanwhile, I doggedly searched hallways and domes, seeing no living thing, just more traps and fabricants, along with ever-turning gears and showers of sparks.

Occasionally, there was evidence that I was not the first to pass through the city. One chamber contained a massive central shaft of some unknown metal, which appeared to be powered by the molten stone into which it disappeared. This shaft drove great gears, but it was impossible to divine what the purpose of those gears was. At the head of a spiral stairway was a door that appeared to have been blasted from its hinges by some unknown force. The metal was scorched and buckled, and I suspected powerful magic had been involved. Beyond that short passage was a wide corridor patrolled by one of the scorpion-like fabricants and three of its bipedal brethren. Several tense moments of work with bow and arrows ended the threat. In the next room, I discovered a truly difficult obstacle. The chamber was circular, and ringed by a narrow gallery some fifteen feet above the floor. A vertical shaft or axle descended from the ceiling, and drove a second, horizontal shaft. At the end of that massive piece of metal were three great, saw-toothed wheels, which ran along the gallery. A set of steps provided access to the gallery, but the only exit was halfway around from the head of the steps. The velocity of the rolling blades was such that one would have to be endowed with super-human speed to reach the safety of the doorway ahead of them. Scattered and crushed bones littered the chamber and gave stark testimony to just how effective the trap was. If I were to guess, I would have had to conclude that Sotha Sil preferred not to have visitors. If levitation had been possible, it would have been a simple matter to avoid the trap and exit the dome. Barring that, I would have to find a more…creative method of escaping in one piece.

I had studied the alchemical properties of the fluids exuded by the fabricants when they were destroyed. Apparently, those fluids imbued them with some of their characteristics- a fact that I hoped to use to my own advantage. The fluid from the scorpion-style fabricants provided a brief boost to strength, which was of no use at present. On the other hand, the fluid from the agile fabricants provided a momentary burst of speed, exactly what I needed to dodge the deadly blades that rolled along the gallery. I secured all of my gear carefully, knowing that anything I dropped would be lost forever, then climbed the stairs to a point just below the top. Crouching down, I lined up half-a-dozen vials of the fabricant fluid on the top step and waited. Using my own pulse as a clock, I estimated the time it took the blades to make their circuit. When I was certain that I had an accurate count, I drank the potions one after another just as the trap passed over me. As soon as the head of the stairs was clear, I sprinted for the safety of the doorway. I could hear the rumble of the death machine growing louder, and resisted the fatal impulse to look behind me. Just as I felt sure that my heart would fail from the combination of fear and potions, I reached the safe haven and flung myself inside. The passing blades caught my heel and nearly dragged me to destruction, but I was able to hold onto the doorframe and pull free. Despite the noise and the odd vapors of that otherworldly place, I lay back against the curved side of the short passage and slept.

[canis216]

I remember being very worried about those sparks my first time... yes indeed. And I had such trouble with the traps....

Very nice update. I just can just feel the tension building.

[The Metal Mallet]

Ya, that speed trap was always a bit of a toughie. Even if you had enough speed boosting potions, you had to time it right or else they would be wasted, or you would be dead. Excellent rendition of that experience Trey!

This is only a fraction of what's in store for him though...

[canis216]

I always liked to use jump spells, feather potions, and fortify strength potions to let me jump up to the door. But I have had to time it with fortify speed before. It's so tricky.

[jack cloudy]

Hmm, these traps make me want Tribunal even more. I mean, actually having to worry about your environment is for me a much more interesting challenge than an endless horde of powerful creatures.

[minque]

OHHH......phew! I´m so glad he made it! Now this frightens me even more to play tribunal......I just can´t se Serene managing all those thingies....

Incredibly vivid description of all the monstrosities....brrrrr awesome!

Now may I have some more, Sir?

[Soulseeker3.0]

I loved it Trey. Your conversation with Radac was humorous and your description of The Clockwork city so far is excellent . please continue (as if you need to be told that any more )

[mplantinga]

That was definitely one of the more difficult traps to evade; I'm glad that Trey's knowledge of alchemy was put to good use.

[treydog]

The sleep refreshed me, although it did nothing to reconcile me to the strangeness of the Clockwork City. The rumbling passage of the rolling trap reminded me to be cautious as I opened the next door. What I found was yet another domed chamber, but this one was different. Set in the center was a smaller dome, with conduits or tubes that snaked upward to the ceiling. It was also connected to the rear wall by a low metal corridor. The smaller dome was apparently accessed by a pair of sliding doors, but no amount of effort on my part could force them open. Just as I turned to search the room, a rumbling noise came from the overhead tubes, and something appeared to be traveling through one of them. The doors to the dome cycled open, and I started forward, only to find myself face to face with a fabricant. I had not conjured my magical bow, so I had to fumble Trueflame loose from my back while trying to dodge the bites and jabs of the mechanical beast. When the sword was free, I fought back and dispatched the creature. Meanwhile, the doors had closed again. I had seen a second set of doors at the rear of the chamber from whence the fabricant had emerged, so I knew that this was the way out. A quick search of the room revealed a pair of switches, which seemed to control the functioning of the small dome. What followed was a great deal of turning switches and an even greater amount of curses as fabricants continued to appear and exit the machine. Obviously, its purpose was to manufacture the mechanical guards. At last, fortune smiled upon me, and I was able to get through the inner doors and into the next room of the complex. The two hulking fabricants that greeted me proved that my triumph was a mixed blessing.

I fought my way through them, as well as several of their more agile brethren, but otherwise found only more stairs, more sparks, and more echoing emptiness. At last, I came to a doorway which gave access to still another dome. This chamber had no floor, only a pool of seething, molten rock. A platform stretched around perhaps a third of the circumference, but did not extend to the door on the opposite wall. In addition to the terrible odor of the place, there was a cacophony of sound- rather like a concerto for swamp creatures and the souls of the damned. The noise was almost enough to drive me from the room, but I finally covered my ears to diminish the sonic assault and looked for some means to cross. My eyes fell on a lever that sat at one end of the gallery, and I hastened to it. My efforts to move the lever were in vain, though- the steamy air of the chamber had rusted the mechanism shut. My first thought was a wish that I had some type of oil to penetrate the corrosion. That idea gave rise to another, a memory that I carried several vials of the fluid from the larger fabricants. While it would likely do nothing to ease the movement of the switch, that material would provide me a momentary burst of strength. Some three or four doses of the viscous liquid enhanced my muscles sufficiently to move the stuck lever and triggered a great mechanical creaking as a bridge unfolded and spanned the chamber. I did not hesitate, but left the terrible chorus of noises behind me and crept through the opposite door. I basked in the blessed silence, which was soon broken by the scrabble of fabricants rushing to attack me.

Although I was successful in defeating them, the constant attacks wore upon me and made it difficult to stay alert. While it is a matter of only a few words to describe my progress through the Clockwork City, the events themselves took many hours. I had brought along tools to repair my armor and potions to restore my health, but it was much harder to relieve the emotional strain. The inscription upon the next door I found did nothing to improve my mental state. In angular Aldmeris characters, the sign proclaimed the “Dome of the Imperfect.” For some reason, that sent a chill through me, as if someone had trodden upon my grave. I wondered what it meant, especially in Sotha Sil’s strange view of the world. Perhaps “imperfect” referred to all living things, creatures that aged and fell to disease and decay. Perhaps it was a storehouse for the creations Sotha Sil found lacking in some way. Or possibly… the best way to find out would be to open the door and find out for myself.

True to the inscription, the room was another dome. It was empty save for two great metallic statues that flanked the opposite door. At first, they appeared to be some sort of Dwemer centurions, but a closer look revealed that they were more refined. And the faces were definitely more Altmer than Dwemer, with high foreheads and narrow, beardless chins. How long they had stood in this place was impossible to say, but an arm had fallen from the statue on the left and lay upon the floor. It was another indication of the neglect and abandonment that permeated the Clockwork City. Moved by my boundless curiosity, I began to cross the floor to study the statues more closely. And as I did so, the right-hand statue groaned to life with a hiss of steam and fixed me with glowing red eyes.

My avid interest in the metal constructs had not diminished my alertness, so I was able to dodge the crackling ball of energy the centurion hurled at me. As was always true in a fight where I was over-matched, my first thought was to escape. The door through which I had entered was too small for the massive mechanical creation. Unfortunately, it had also locked behind me after I entered the dome. The crash of a metal fist striking the floor reminded me that I did not have time to fiddle with the lock, and I dove to the right and rolled to my feet. If I could not get through the door, perhaps I could still stay away from the machine. It quickly became clear that no one had maintained the device, for its movements were slow and accompanied by the creaking of tortured metal. On the other hand, the dents it made in the floor and walls, not to mention its pitiless red eyes, were fair warning that I could easily become a smear of Breton-flavored jelly if I wasn’t careful. Backing away, I shouted the invocation boghu tromhad, bringing to my hands the comforting presence of the magical bow. It seemed unlikely that iron or steel arrows would have much effect upon the magical machine, so I selected missiles enchanted with fire spells. I had some notion that the flames might ignite whatever lubricating fluid remained to the guardian, adding to the damage caused by the arrows themselves. To my dismay, the first few simply bounced off the head and torso, leaving little more than small pocks in the metal.

As I ducked the swipe of a huge fist, I tripped over something on the floor. Turning, I saw that the obstacle was the missing arm of the other centurion, the one which had not come to life- at least not yet. Inspiration came to me then- I realized that the centurion’s weakness was its joints, rather than the armored chest and head. At the same moment, I understood that the machine that sought to kill me was the “Imperfect” referred to in the inscription. It must have been Sotha Sil’s attempt to create a new form of life that was proof against the ills that assailed mortals. And it seemed equally probable that he had realized that it was a failure- thus the name. And that was all well and good, but did nothing to prevent the machine from trying to kill me. I therefore began to concentrate my arrows on one of the knee joints, all the while staying out of reach and evading the occasional shock spell. The effect of my change in tactics was not instantaneous, but I could see that the creature was being slowed by the arrows hammering at the joint. Better still, as I had hoped, occasional flames licked at the fluid leaking around the knee. At last, the right leg locked completely and the centurion sprawled full-length upon the floor. The shock of that fall knocked me from my feet as well, and I thought it must have been felt in Cyrodiil.

As the guardian glared at me with its red eyes and struggled to push up with its arms, I dispelled the magical bow and drew my longsword. Unconsciously mirroring the hallucination I had experienced in the throne room, I carefully moved behind the steaming, fallen giant. A quick leap carried me onto the centurion’s back and I gripped the sword with both hands, then plunged it straight into the metal body. The arms stiffened once more and then collapsed. The eyes grew dim and there was a final hiss of steam, a mechanical death-rattle, and the Imperfect was no more.