The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl: Vehk's Path Options

[minque]

I think you are right.....in a way Alex, but I´d like to add another word for Lonewolf...mods!

Our great Override is a very good modder and mod-user, apart from being the great writer.....

S.G.M

[OverrideB1]

The main square in Ald’ruhn was almost deserted this morning when I translocated there. That might have had something to do with the truly ferocious ash-storm that was whistling through the town. Pulling my hood close around my face, I struggled up the steps to the upper square and into the sheltering walls of the Temple. Shaking the ash from my shoulders, I entered the gloomy interior.

“So, you’re Sed Vahl?” the Proctor said, peering up at me. “Well, I’m Tuls Valen and I expect to be obeyed regardless of whether you’re the head of Great House Telvanni or not. This is Redoran country; your rank gives you no privileges here. Still, I understand that Rotheloth was moderately impressed with you and that you’ve done Kand and the Graces?”

I assured him that I had completed the pilgrimages and he nodded thoughtfully. “So, old Rotheloth set you on Vehk’s path did he? Well, it’s as good a route to piety as any other I suppose. Now, let me see, the next step would be compassion. Listen up Initiate.

“The Lord Vehk struck down his opponent and then healed him. Since it would be impious of you to strike down someone just so you can heal them, we’ll have to find something else that fits.” He riffled through a huge collection of parchments until he found something that caught his eye. “Ah yes, this’ll do…”

“I have here a report from the outpost at Ald Velothi. Seems that they turned away an Orcish Cultist from some nearby Daedric shrine: name of Bulfim gra-Shugarz. Erm, that’d be the name of the Orc, not the shrine,” he said, peering at me. “The shrine is Maelkashishi. Now, I’ll warn you that the cultists in the shrine will not be welcoming, oh no, not at all. “

“And neither will this Bulfim gra-Shugarz?” I hazarded.

“Probably not,” he said, sharply adding, “but that’s rather the whole point. Now, take this potion and don’t loose it, we can’t afford any more until we get some donated. Oh, and by the way, she’s suffering from Ash-Chancre.”

I grinned as I left the Temple, I might just have a little surprise for you Valen, I thought. A quick spell later and I was standing in Gnisis, where a legionnaire told me what I needed to know.

“Ald Velothi?” he said, “Hmmm, that’s up by the coast north of here. There’s two ways you can get there Ser. The first is to follow the road northwards and round; it’s fairly clearly signposted. If, however, your mission is urgent, just a short way out of town is a path known as the Old Guar Trail. It’s a fairly steep climb and there are one or two shaky bridges to cross but it is very much shorter ‘cause it goes across the mountains rather than around.”

I soon came to the Old Guar Trail ~ directly opposite it was a large and well-designed building in the Imperial style. According to the notice hanging from the iron fence, the whole building was up for sale by someone named Spencer of Vivec City. The building was located close enough to Gnisis to be useful but far enough away that the hustle and bustle of the town wouldn’t intrude. Wondering if I’d ever be able to afford such a building, I turned onto the Old Guar Trail and headed towards Ald Velothi.

The legionnaire hadn’t been kidding when he’d said that the bridges slung across the ravines were rickety: the first of the rope-bridges creaked and swung alarmingly as I crossed, clinging onto the ropes for grim death. On the other side of the bridge, a couple of Kagouti decided I would make a passable lunch but the Wish and I were able to persuade them that was a bad idea. Deep in the cave they’d used as a lair, I found a plain wooden chest. It contained a Silver Staff of Peace, surely an indication that a Telvanni had passed this way? Glancing uneasily at the piles of gnawed and chewed bone, I quickly backed out of the rocky cleft and continued on my way.

I was at the top of the hill, just cresting it and starting to walk down the other side when I spotted the Man sitting on a rock a little further down the path. He didn’t appear to be dangerous but you never know and I grasped the hilt of my sword as I walked passed the Redguard.

“Buggerit,” he said clearly, “Millennium’s Hand and Shrimp”

“I beg your pardon?” I asked, puzzled by such a nonsensical comment. Now that I was looking at the Redguard, I could see that he obviously wasn’t well – he was shivering despite the heat and great drops of sweat were rolling down his face.

“Sideways!” he exclaimed, waving his hands over his head. “I went and got it installed sideways. Buggerit, buggerit I says.” Seeing my look of total non-comprehension, the Man took a deep breath and, slowly through gritted teeth, ground out, “I got bitten by a Slaughterfish and I don’t feel so well, I think I’m going insane. Going insane? Thank you, I don’t mind if I do.”

Pushing him down onto the rock as he raved, I considered my options. I couldn’t really leave the Man here ~ in his current state he could do himself some real harm. I didn’t know what was wrong with him, and didn’t fancy travelling back to Gnisis to fetch the Man a healer. I had a couple of potions that’d cure common disease or blight but giving him the wrong one might be dangerous ~ besides, I might have need of them before too long. I had a spell that would cure Blight and had been experimenting with a spell that would cure common diseases that I’d picked up from the Tomb of Ancient Wisdom. Taking a chance, I carefully constructed the gleaming white shape of the spell in my mind before chanting, “exsisto rememdium“

Blue-white sparks swarmed around the Redguard like bees, settling on his skin and then sinking slowly beneath. He squirmed and wriggled, but made no move to prevent the spell from working. Quite quickly the colour returned to his cheeks and the profuse perspiration stopped. Shaking his head like someone emerging from a long sleep, the Man grinned and extended his hand in the Western fashion. Grasping it, I helped him to his feet where, after swaying for a moment or two, he could stand easily.

“Thank you ma’am,” the Redguard rumbled, such a surprisingly deep voice from such a small person. “My name is Din, Trooper Din and I was on furlough up near Ald Velothi when I was bitten. I didn’t feel too bad, so I started back ~ after that everything becomes something of a blur. Listen, a Trooper’s pay isn’t great but I’d like you to have this money as a reward for helping me.”

I refused to take his money, adding to his bemusement. Despite the fact he was a soldier of the Empire, we parted on relatively friendly terms ~ with his promise that he’d help me in a similar fashion if he ever could. As he headed off towards Gnisis, I continued to make my way northwards. In this way I travelled over the same route that Din must have traversed and I was amazed that he’d not plummeted to his death off some of the treacherous paths. As the Old Guar Trail came to an end, I saw an amazing sight.

Off in the distance was a Dwemer ruin, perched on the top of a tall spire of rock that had become separated from the rest of the cliff by erosion. This must have happened many years ago because a huge bridge spanned the gap between spire and Cliffside, huge stone arches supporting the massive weight. Unfortunately, the path I needed headed away from the ruins, but I will admit I was sorely tempted to be sidetracked so I could explore. I was so busy looking at the massive stones that I almost walked straight into the woman.

“My apologies,” I said, recovering just in time to prevent myself from sending the slight Breton female over the edge of the path and into a nearby pool.

“Can you help me, kindly pilgrim?” she asked in a soft voice. “I have lost my ring. It slipped off my finger and rolled into yonder pond.”

“And you haven’t retrieved it… because?” I asked. Something about the woman’s fawning attitude made me distinctly suspicious.

“I’m a… dancer, pilgrim,” she said. “I’m due to dance at Ald Velothi this very night. I can hardly go wading around in a muddy pool, my clothes would get ruined.”

I’d caught the slight hesitation when she’d described herself as a ‘dancer’ ~ as I suspected I was supposed to. My paranoia flared full-blown at her explanation. House Redoran was a strict and pious House, and not well endowed with cash since they’d lost the Caldera Mines to House Hlaalu. Add to that the fact that Ald Velothi was a small outpost ~ what would a dancer, even one who didn’t dance, be doing going there? “I’m sorry, but I am engaged on a duty of some importance,” I replied, watching her closely.

She gave a quick glance behind me and I was already moving: spinning away from her as something hummed past me and cut a neat line across the Breton’s upper arm. The robe didn’t hinder me from drawing my sword and, as yet another humming thing sped past me, I stepped neatly behind the slender female and wrapped an arm around her neck: using her as a shield against whoever was throwing shuriken at me.

That someone wasn’t immediately visible, despite my careful search of the area where the darts had come from. Bringing the Ebony blade up, I pressed it against the woman’s throat and hissed in her ear, “Where is your friend?”

The Breton didn’t reply, nor did she have to. Off to my left, a small clump of grass suddenly flattened itself and I fancied I could see a slight shimmer of movement. Thrusting the woman to the left, I dove for the ground as something whipped viciously through the spot my head had been. Even before I reached the dusty path, I was twisting towards the invisible thrower and launched a fireball in that direction. There was a ‘whoomph’ as the fireball detonated against the ground, the splash of liquid flame clearly illuminating the slightly built figure that was now frantically slapping at its armour. With a clearly defined target to aim at, I rushed forward and thrust the blade out.

There was a crunching noise and a section of thin air started to bleed profusely. It was also cursing pretty fluently and that gave me an even better target. From my crouched position, I swung the blade upwards as I straightened, feeling a sudden resistance as a plume of blood, bone, and brains spurted upwards. There was a sudden impact in the small of my back and, staggering slightly, I drove my elbow backwards into the Breton’s midriff. With a sudden exhalation of breath she staggered backwards and, with a sudden wail, vanished over the edge of the path. There followed a loud splash and some vociferous swearing.

Ignoring the cries of “I can’t swim’ (the pool hadn’t looked to be that deep) I searched the area where my invisible foe had been. My fingers brushed a fine chain and the shrill note of illusion-based magic sang in my head. A quick yank and twist, and I was left holding a small silver and jade amulet on a broken silver chain and staring down into the ruined features of a chitin-clad female. The amulet was the only thing of value the bandit carried, and it seemed suitable reward for having been waylaid. The Breton and her ring, if such a ring even existed, I left in the pool.

I had barely travelled a dozen steps when there was the sound of running footsteps behind me. Turning, I extended my hand and spoke the words of the Boiling Blood spell as the Bretonian woman ~ who had, it seems learned to swim very quickly ~ ran right into its nimbus of effect. The result was spectacular, although only from my point of view I suspect. There was a sudden loud hissing, and the red-haired woman vanished into a vast cloud of screaming steam. Try as hard as I could, I couldn’t feel any pity for the Bretonian woman and I spared a quick prayer for those unknown travellers that had been waylaid before I came along.

All too quickly, from my point of view, I found myself approaching Maelkashishi. The buildings were constructed, as are all such ruins, from that black/purple volcanic stone and looked no prettier than any other such ruined shrine I’d seen. In fact, as I drew closer, they seemed to grow even uglier. I flinched as I stepped onto the bottom step of a set of stairs, the building screamed with power ~ so much so that I could actually feel it as a discordant note even through the soles of my shoes. The steps, all odd heights and strange slopes, led up to a flat stone platform that was surrounded by huge square pillars of stone. Oddly shaped panels had been cut into the faces of the pillars and swirling designs decorated the panels. Then there was the door.

It was oval, and seemed to consist of dozens of ‘leaves’ extending from the outer rim to a central point. Slap bang in the middle was what appeared to be a knot of stone, oval in shape and set across the oval of the door. Two depressions, one at the top and one at the bottom, were the only features on the smaller oval. Around the door was a small band of carvings ~ closer examination made me wish I hadn’t examined them any closer, or even notice them in the first place. The ‘knot’ seemed to act as some sort of knob but pulling or pushing against it had no effect on the door. Only when I twisted the knot so the elongated ends were vertical did the door open.

It did so with an unpleasant grating sound, each individual stone leaf seeming to twist impossibly as they folded back into the groove in the door frame. Wishing I didn’t have to enter this ruined shrine wasn’t going to do me any good, so I carefully stepped over the raised lip of the door and into the gloomy interior. My heart leapt straight into my mouth as, grating and grinding, the door slowly sealed itself closed again. A stone brazier, the bowl seemingly chipped and chiselled from the lump of stone, lit a set of stairs heading downwards. Almost on tip-toes, I descended the uneven steps.

An improbably shaped doorway led into the main chamber of the shrine and I quailed when I saw the malignant form of the dapperly-dressed Mad God, cane in hand and blindfold in place, depicted as a huge statue dominating the chamber. Once more I felt that alien regard bearing down on me, that same feeling of being watched by something vast and intelligent, powerful on a level that no mortal could ever aspire to. So forceful was that feeling that I almost missed the shape of a female Orc watching me from the shadows.

“Are you Bulfim gra-Shugarz?” I asked the steel-clad Orc.

“What if I am?” she replied, glowering at me.

“I’ve been sent by the Temple to cure you of the Ash-Chancre you’re suffering from,” I replied.

“Get on with it then,” she snapped. I raised an eyebrow but forbore from making any comment. There was an unsettling light in her eyes, as of madness barely held in check. Not surprising from a cultist of Sheogorath. Licking my lips, I carefully constructed the shape of Aryon’s spell in my mind and let the visualisation of it settle over the hulking form of the Orc.

A spiral of light wound its way around her body, sparkling and wholesome even in the evil atmosphere of this decadent shrine. She stiffened and gasped, the greyish pustules that marred her green skin fading and drying up even as the spell’s light faded. “You are most graciously thanked,” the Orc rumbled, flexing her fingers. “A word of advice pilgrim. I owe you a debt. Because of that I will not rip out your heart and feast on it. I cannot say the same for my fellow cultists.”

I know a warning when I hear one and, barely making a civil response, I fled from the shrine and out into the fresh air. Worried lest Bulfim changed her mind, I wasted little time in chanting the necessary spell and translocating immediately to Ald’ruhn. Tuls was surprised, I think, to see me ~ even more so when I handed him the potion back.

“Well,” he said, looking up at me. “I confess that you have done better than I expected at a mission I thought you’d fail. You have shown remarkable resourcefulness Ser Vahl. I have a book here, one I’ve finished with, that you might find interesting.” With that, he handed me a dog-eared and battered copy of ‘The Four Suitors of Benitah’. Despite the book’s dilapidated condition, it was a valuable reward and I thanked him graciously.

“So,” he said. “We have a problem and, by extension, you have a problem. There is a young Dunmer in Suran claiming to be the Incarnate. This is heresy that the Temple cannot tolerate. Show him the error of his ways and, if you cannot convince him that he is not the Incarnate, he must be brought to justice.”

I returned to Balmora and sat on the bed in the house there. I knew exactly what Tuls Valen meant when he spoke of ‘justice’ ~ it was the justice of the blade. This seemed grievous to me, that a religion that spoke so often about compassion could be so harsh and unforgiving.

[minque]

So our little lady is in Redoran-country now huh, hmmm good experience though. Very nice description of the redguard suffering from slaughterfish-madness and of the cure .........

erm...S.G.M

[Alexander]

I agree minque, I only did that quest once I think, but a nice description of it

[jonajosa]

Very nice. i liked how you did the lost ring quest. Always doing quests your own way keeps people guessing what might happen next.

If you keep blowing through quests like this you might run out soon

[minque]

Override run out of quests??? No way...hehe he´ll invent more if he needs to, remember he´s got a lot of mods running, and besides, he´s got a wonderful imagination

[jonajosa]

Yes but we don't want Override to get lost in that expansive computer world of his. That would be a shame.

[OverrideB1]

The stiff-necked Mages again refused me permission to use the Guild-guide service when I arrived in Balmora this morning. I have no intention of continually having to bribe them to allow me to use the service and I sure as Oblivion am not going to join their little cartel of magic-users. They think that they can dictate terms and conditions to Great House Telvanni? I guess I’m going to have to disabuse them of that notion. Instead of ranting and raving, I just smiled tightly and translocated myself to Ald’ruhn. There I purchased a Void-Walk spell for Vivec City from Delas Mrania.

Arriving on the bridge that leads into the Foreign Quarter Canton, I took a gondola from there to the Temple Canton. The High Fane was easy to find, being behind the only visible access to the Temple structure on the upper level of the Canton. My contact there was an Endryn Llethan.

Endryn was a harried Mer, he ushered me into his office and sat down behind a desk that was filled to overflowing with parchments ~ all of which seemed to involve Temple business. “So, tell me Acolyte Vahl, how do you feel about working with the afflicted?”

“As long as I have an ample supply of potions to prevent myself from becoming diseased I have no problems with that,” I replied frankly.

He nodded. “Well, that won’t be much help here I’m afraid. There’s a pilgrim come in from Mournhold, name of Tanusea Veloth. She’s been making the usual stops around the city ~ the Temple here, the Temple in Saint Delyn’s, Stop The Moon, you know the routine?” I nodded, I did indeed. “Well, it seems that she’s been infected with Corprus. To complicate matters, she’s been blessed by Almalexia and does not show any outward symptoms. We need someone to persuade her that she is infected and convince her to go to the Corprusarium at Tel Fyr.”

“And that someone,” I hazarded, “would be me?”

He just nodded, already distracted by the sheaf of parchment that a page had brought in. Sighing, I stood up and left the High Fane in search of this pilgrim.

“Tanusea Veloth?” the Ordinator said when I asked if he’d heard of her. “No Ser, the name doesn’t ring a bell.”

“She’s here from Mournhold,” I explained, “and there’s a possibility that she’s infected with Corprus.”

“Ahh,” he said, “I’ve heard that there’s some diseased woman wandering around the Arena Canton. Perhaps that’s her? I really couldn’t say; I’ve been busy looking for Moroni Uvelas’ husband. He went missing a couple of days ago and she’s tearing her hair out.” I asked a few additional questions of the Indoril, learning that Moroni Uvelas worked at the Fishmonger’s Guild in Saint Olms. I also learned that, so far, nobody had been apprehended for the killing of the five Outlanders ~ although the Mer seemed much more aggrieved by the failure to capture whoever it was that had killed the two Ordinators ~ and that the Justice of the Watch was seeking any assistance he could get in the case.

Since the Hall of Justice and thus, the Office of the Watch, was directly behind where I was standing talking to the guard, I decided that I should see if there was any assistance I could render. You might wonder why I did that ~ I was an Outlander, working in and around Vivec City and somebody was killing Outlanders in Vivec City. It wasn’t out of any sense of civic duty that I approached the Watch; self-preservation pure and simple was what prompted me.

“You want to help?” Elam Andas asked incredulously. “What on Tamriel for?” I laid out my reasoning for him, pretty much as I’ve explained. He thought on this for a minute or two, and then said, “I don’t see how having you help could do any harm. So, I’ll tell you what we know:

“Two of the victims were found in the Foreign Quarter Canton, a third was found Canalside in the Foreign Quarter. We found one floating face down near the Arena Canton, the fifth we found in a corridor in the Hlaalu Canton. All of the victims were armed but only one of them, a Mage, seems to have put up any struggle. All had their throats cut. The two Ordinators were found near the victim in the Hlaalu Canton.

He cleared his throat, then added, “We’re working on the assumption that the killer is someone very stealthy ~ perhaps a renegade thief or rogue assassin ~ or a very powerful sorcerer. There are no witnesses to the actual killings, but a Dunmeri female with a dagger threatened an Hlaalu servant on the night of the murder there. He didn’t get a good look, but described her as tall and wearing Netch leather armour.”

Somewhat distractedly, I said that I would look into the matter. The reason for my distraction was the extra-ordinary performance of the Mer sitting at the desk opposite the Head of the Watch’s. Throughout my entire conversation with Elam, he had been squirming and twitching in his seat. Now he was standing up and rubbing his back against the frame of the bookshelf with every indication of bliss on his face.

“Excuse me,” I said, “I couldn’t help but notice that you seem to be in some discomfort.”

“Damn’ right I am,” he snapped. “It’s this gods-blasted itch, it’s been driving me mad all morning.”

“I have here some potions that might help,” I said, placing my pack on the desk. “Or I have knowledge of a spell or two that can cure most afflictions.”

“D’you think I haven’t tried potions and magic?” he snapped, before looking at me contritely. “I’m sorry, I know you’re just trying to help. It’s just that this itch…” he spread his hands helplessly. “I’ve had it since last night, didn’t get a wink of sleep. I think it’s because I insulted Trebonius ~ the head of the Mages Guild. Look, do me a favour will you?”

I nodded, and he handed me a book wrapped in waxed parchment. “Take this to Trebonius and apologise for me. Tell him Tarer Braryn sends his apologies and… uhnnnn.” Whatever else he was going to say was lost as he started to scratch frantically at his face. Suppressing a giggle, I left the Office of the Watch and made my way down to the gondola dock on the lower level of the Temple Canton.

As the gondola conveyed me from the Temple to the Arena, I tried to memorise the route. If I am going to be in Vivec City for long, I really need to learn how to get around without relying on the gondolas. Not that they’re terribly expensive or slow. It’s just that, sometimes, they don’t ply the most direct route from one Canton to another.

Tanusea Veloth wasn’t hard to find, she was the Dunmeri female sitting in splendid isolation on the stone benches above the gladiatorial arena. Hundreds of people crowd into the Arena on a daily basis to watch the sparring matches and training sessions that are held every day except for Holy Days. That’s nothing compared to the crowds that flood in whenever there’s a real fight. Today, however, there was a much smaller crowd than normal and a wide circle of empty spaces around the lone woman.

“Are you Tanusea Veloth?” I asked, sitting as close to her as felt comfortable. She acknowledged that she was, and I spoke to her. “You are afflicted with Corprus,” I informed her. “You must take yourself to the Corprusarium at Tel Fyr so that you don’t infect any of these good people.”

She snorted laughter. “Corprus? How can I possibly have Corprus?” She shook her head. “The Goddess herself blessed me, I am not diseased.”

I spent quite a while trying to convince her, but she was having none of it. Finally, she turned away from the fight and said, “I appreciate your intentions Ser, but you are quite mistaken. I am a pious woman, blessed by Almalexia herself. Why, I am willing to wager that you’ve never even read Saryoni’s Sermons.”

There was no answer that I could make to that, for she was quite correct. Bowing to her, I left the Arena Canton and made my way towards the Foreign Quarter. I might not have read Saryoni’s Sermons, but that was a deficiency I could soon remedy.

“Saryoni’s Sermons? Yes, Jobasha have many copies of that book,” the Khajiit said. “Very popular, Jobasha always makes sure he has copies in store.” The thick, vellum-bound book cost me fifty-seven Septims and I sat at a table in the local inn, reading through the sermons as I ate my midday meal. A lot of what was written was confusing and contradictory, but there were several passages I thought might help me convince Tanusea.

Since I was in the right area, I made my way up to the Plaza after lunch and entered the Mages Guild. Trebonius was a large Man ~ large around, not up and down ~ with a most peculiar hairstyle. I presented him with the book I’d been given and, on behalf of Tarer Braryn, made a suitable apology. He nodded, “Here’s a potion that’ll cure Braryn’s rash. Perhaps this will teach him not to meddle in the lunches of Wizards; they’re hungry and quick to take offence. A lesson that you would do well to learn as well young Telvanni.”

I fumed as I made my way back towards the Arena, what an insufferable prig Trebonius was. He’d deliberately cursed Tarer Braryn over some trivial slight and made the Mer grovel. Even though I had no love for guards of any stripe, I was rapidly developing a serious distaste for the way the Mages Guild thought it could ride roughshod over the locals.

Tanusea proved that she was amenable to persuasion as I laced my arguments with texts and quotations taken from Saryoni’s Sermons. Finally she agreed that I might be right and that, as a precaution, she would go to the Corprusarium. I scribbled a quick note for her to give to Divayth Fyr. I wanted to get him to take a close look at Tanusea: I knew he was deeply involved in seeking a cure for the disease and, if he could find what was suppressing Tanusea’s symptoms, it might give him a new direction to try.

When I arrived back at Tel Vahl, Raissu Asserbas was waiting for me with a Dunmeri female. The woman was introduced to me as Farena Arelas, a sorcerer who wished to set up residence here in Uvirith’s Grave. I questioned her as to her abilities, discovering that she was well versed in spells of the schools of Illusion and Alteration. I finished the interview by purchasing a powerful opening spell and welcoming her to my growing estate.

[minque]

Interesting and amusing as always...wow Sudhendra really don´t give much for the Mages Guild as she thinks herself as a superior Telvanni...how utterly amusing that is...
Must admit I never thought of the Mages Guild as that...... :lmao:

[OverrideB1]

I spent some time asking questions around the Foreign Quarter this morning, finally finding a Mer by the name of Devas Irano who had some interesting news. For some reason he didn’t want to discuss he was down in the Canalworks and saw a Dunmeri female entering the Underworks. Which he considered to be odd, since there’s nothing down there except rats and sewers.

As the wooden cover that gave access to the sewers under the Foreign Quarter crashed down overhead, I carefully made my way down the rusty iron ladder. The sewers were large tunnels with small ledges along each side of the water channel. Dotted along the length of the sewer were lichen encrusted bridges stretching across the dark, greasy-looking water that filled the stone waterways almost to the top. It was extremely dark down here and, dimly, I could hear furtive squeaking and scurrying as news of my arrival spread through the rodent population. I murmured an incantation and the torch I’d been clutching sparked and sputtered alight. The warm circle of light did nothing to alleviate the oppressive feeling of claustrophobia that gripped me: normally I’m unbothered by enclosed underground spaces.

I span, peering down the tunnel as I heard the soft crunch of a footstep on the stone. A dark shapeless form moved beyond the limit of the light thrown by my torch and my heart lurched. As the soft noises continued, the amorphous shape resolved itself into the form of a woman. I sighed in relief, even as various alarums in my head started to scream. Dunmeri female, Underworks, Netch Leather Armour, tall, dagger… I could put a check mark next to each of those things as I looked at the grinning Dunmer that was stalking towards me.

“Outlander,” she said in a thick, choked voice. “The time of the Lost Ones is upon us. The corruption and filth must be cleansed.”

“Damn’” I said, yanking the Last Wish from its straps atop my pack and gripping the handle-grip tightly. From the tenor of her conversation, I guessed that tall, dark, and gruesome here wasn’t exactly going to be swayed by rational argument. With a speed that was scary, the woman lunged forward and it was only the thick Daedric armour that prevented her from inflicting a serious wound. I reeled backwards, a foul smell emanating from the thin liquid that trickled down the front of the cuirass.

Recovering my balance, I swung the Wish around in an arc, causing the woman to lean backwards to avoid the razor-sharp edge. Twisting as the blade reached the end of its arc, I brought the Wish up and over ~ striking downwards as the woman lunged in again with the poisoned dagger. Even given that I wasn’t the greatest axe-Mer on the Grey Maybe (although I was improving by leaps and bounds) it should have been no contest given that the Dunmeri woman was armed with a short-bladed dagger. Whatever drove her also gave her ferocious strength and terrifying speed. Again and again she dodged blows that should have disembowelled her.

My one advantage was the fact she was armed with a dagger, had she been equipped with a weapon with more reach I would have been in serious trouble. As it was, the humming arc of death that the Wish wove as I twisted and spun kept her at bay. Finally, after what seemed an age, the Last Wish made contact with the woman, scoring a thin cut along the front of the leather armour. She screamed as fire bloomed along the length of the wound and, taking advantage of her distraction, I gripped the handle firmly and drove the curved blade forward the same way that you’d thrust with a sword.

Blood frothed at her lips as I drove the edge of the axe deeper. Her crazed crimson eyes never left my face as, with a final gasp, she collapsed limply ~ only the presence of the axe-blade keeping her upright. Yanking it free, I allowed the female to collapse into a heap as the dagger she’d carried clattered to rest next to my feet. I crouched and examined the dagger, careful not to touch it. The blade was black stone, obsidian or basalt at a guess ~ certainly not Ebony ~ that had been painstakingly chipped and worked to a wickedly sharp edge. The handle of the dagger was of blackened Iron, cunningly wrought to resemble a large beetle. The mandibles of the beetle gripped the blade front and back while the forelegs formed the crosspiece.

Using my own dagger, I cut a strip of the tough leather from the woman’s cuirass and dropped it over the blade before picking it up. Wrapping it tightly, I tucked the leather bundle into my belt and straightened up. I glanced around uneasily. Even the rats seemed to have fallen quiet. I shuddered suddenly, there was something foul down here ~ and I didn’t mean the water flowing sluggishly in the channel. Whatever it was, I wanted no part of it and, with a speed that surprised even me, I clambered back up the iron ladder and threw open the wooden cover so that I could scramble into the Canalworks. Every second I expected something to reach up from the darkness and grab me, and drag me screaming into the foul chambers beneath the Canton.

“Well, we’ll send a couple of Ordinators down there to make sure,” Elam Andas said when I reported back to him. “But, based on the description you gave and the information we’ve gathered, I believe you’ve brought the killer to justice. Now, I can offer you a choice of rewards. The first is this rather fine ensorcelled belt and the other is a cuirass and helm of Indoril armour. Just remember that you won’t be able to wear the armour while you’re in Vivec City ~ the Ordinators will take a very dim view of that.”

I decided that I’d take the belt since I didn’t want to run the risk of forgetting I was wearing the armour and incurring the wrath of the Ordinators. “Is there something else, Ser?” Andas asked in a friendly, yet impatient tone of voice when I remained standing in front of his desk.

“I thought you might like to see this,” I said, dropping the leather-wrapped dagger onto his desk. “It’s the weapon the woman was using.”

The effect on Elam Andas when he unwrapped the dagger was electrifying. With a gasp of sheer horror he dropped the blade as though the beetle had come to life in his hands. Rising from his seat, he muttered something about ‘having to see the Arch-Cannon” and fled the office. As he went, I swear I heard him mutter something about a ‘Lost House’. I had just re-wrapped the dagger and was putting it into my backpack when the door to the office crashed open.

“Did you speak to Trebonius?” Tarer Braryn gasped. I blinked: his face was a mass of tiny red pimples that certainly hadn’t been there yester. Nodding I dug the silver and glass flask out of my pack and handed it to him. Ripping out the stopper, he tipped back his head and drained the contents in one long swallow. “Thank ALMSIVI,” he gasped. “That’s the first time I haven’t had an itch somewhere in two days. Bless you pilgrim, bless you.” In fact, he was so grateful he gave me a hundred Septims for my troubles instead of the fifty he’d offered yester. I almost wished I’d waited a couple of days longer ~ I might have been able to retire on the money he’d paid me.

I was in a suspicious frame of mind when I entered Endryn Llethan’s office. Guess whom I’d seen hurrying out of the High Fane as I’d left the Hall of Justice and walked up the stairs to the plaza? None other than the rather harried-looking Elam Andas. There didn’t seem to be any change in Endryn’s attitude to me: in fact, he was very pleased with me.

“You actually managed to persuade Tanusea Veloth to go to Tel Fyr?” he said. “Very, very impressive. Here, I’d like you to have these two potions of Blight cure: no use against Corprus I know, but you might find them handy.

“Now, you have been much more devoted to the Temple than we expected. I’ve been reviewing your file,” here he tapped a bunch of documents that had been fixed together, “and I see you’ve done the pilgrimage of the Seven Graces, the Maar Gan pilgrimage, and the pilgrimage to Mount Kand. And, according to everything I’ve seen, you certainly deserve a promotion. And that’s where there’s a catch…”

“The pilgrimage of Silence,” he said, when I asked him what the catch was. “Officially, it’s called the Sanctus Shrine Pilgrimage. The catch is that the whole thing has to be undertaken under an oath of silence. If you speak whilst on the pilgrimage, you will have failed. And there is only one chance to do this particular quest.”

“By silence, do you mean I can’t speak at all, or just that I mustn’t speak to anyone?”

“Oh, of course, you’re a Telvanni,” he exclaimed. “No, spells are permitted,” he clarified, “but talking to anyone, for any reason, is not. Now, let me mark the location of the shrine on your map.”

The shrine was on a small smudge of land off the western coast of Dagon Fel Island. It was a very long journey, if you didn’t have magic at your disposal. I indicated I was willing and ready to undertake the pilgrimage and Endryn swore me to silence. Stepping outside, I whispered the words that would translocate me north to Dagon Fel. Studiously ignoring the hails of the locals, I struck off to the west in search of the Sanctus Shrine.

Once I was out of Dagon Fel I was relieved of the injunction to silence and was free to swear freely at the hordes of Cliff-Racers that bombarded me from every angle every dozen or so paces. If I didn’t reduce the local population of these flying vermin to zero, I must have brought it very close. Every single flapping, squawking one in the whole Sheogorad region must have decided that today was the day for the Dark Elf blue plate special.

So, as you can imagine, it was with some relief that I came to the western shore of the island. Sliding down the steep cliff, I cast water-walk and made my way to the nearest likely looking clump of rock sticking up out of the water. I had picked wisely; a gravely path led up from the beach to a small sandy plateau. There, tucked in the corner, was the Sanctus Shrine. Eager to complete the pilgrimage, I bent and read the inscription.

Now I was completely free of the imposed silence, I was free to return to Vivec City. Endryn was pleased to see me back, somehow having received word that I’d completed the pilgrimage. In addition to the promotion to the rank of Adept, he also provided me with some books that he said would teach me some important lessons about the Temple.

[minque]

[quote]I could hear furtive squeaking and scurrying as news of my arrival spread through the rodent population.[/quote].. :rofl:
Very amusing and enjoyable as always.....but what about that poisoned dagger? I there something spooky about it? One wonders..hmm



S.G.M

[Aki]

[quote=minque][quote]I could hear furtive squeaking and scurrying as news of my arrival spread through the rodent population.[/quote].. :rofl:
Very amusing and enjoyable as always.....but what about that poisoned dagger? I there something spooky about it? One wonders..hmm



S.G.M[/quote]
If you've ever done that quest, you know what the dagger is called, and it's possible connections.

I love how it was described, certainly more suiting that dagger in the game (Which used the chitin dagger mesh and texture)

[Wolfie]

All i can say is SGM

[OverrideB1]

Having spent the last couple of days in contemplation and some exciting dabbling in the world of alchemy; I was in a mood for a little excitement. Sometimes I think I should be more careful what I wish for.

The hammering on the door intruded on my solitary daybreak meal and, when I opened it, I found Raissu Asserbas standing outside. Rather breathlessly, she told me she’d received a note from Llunela Hleran and that I should see it immediately. Assuming that she meant the note, I took it from her and read:

CODE

To be delivered to the Arch-Magister, post haste.

Sed, an interesting development. A large flying structure has appeared west of Sadrith Mora. It bears more than a passing resemblance to the Battle-Spire, lost many generations ago. Such a thing certainly bears investigating.

Most people have heard of the Battle-Spire and its strange disappearance in those dark years when Jager Tharn was impersonating the Emperor. If it had made a sudden and unexplained return to the Mundus it certainly was worth investigating. Thanking Raissu Asserbas, I spoke the words of the void-walk spell and soon found myself in the market at Sadrith Mora. From here, the huge piece of earth is plainly visible floating in the sky in an entirely impossible way. There appears to be a citadel built on the flat top of the flying island. Many of the people around me were making comparisons to the Battle-Spire of old and are understandably nervous.

It occurred to me that, if anyone had any knowledge of the strange apparition, it would be Divayth Fyr. With the vast count of his years, he would have seen the original and might be able to tell me if this was it. Summoning every scrap of speed I was capable of, I water-walked to Tel Fyr and made my way inside. Divayth was, as always, engaged in some arcane experimentation but he did put aside some time to speak with me. “I doubt this is the Battle-Spire Arch-Magister,” he said after I’d explained the situation to him. “However, it is a little known fact that there were several prototypes of the ‘Spire built.”

“So this might be one of those?” I asked.

“Indeed,” he replied, stroking his chin. “It is entirely possible. Of course, it’s also possible that it has nothing to do with the Battle-Spire at all. My cousin, Tadas, is recently arrived and was on his way to Sadrith Mora. He may well be able to shed some light on this matter.”

It was pretty obvious that Divayth knew more than he was telling but further questioning earned me only silence or repeated suggestions that I find his cousin. Since I didn’t especially relish the idea of a clash of wills with this ancient and puissant wizard, (mostly because I was pretty sure which of us would be the last Mer standing), I took my leave of him and returned to Sadrith Mora.

The synchronicity between the arrival of Fyr’s cousin and the sudden appearance of the Battle-Spire wasn’t lost on me and, the instant the spell-effect around me had dissolved, I set out to locate the Mer.

“Arch-Magister Sudhendra Vahl,” the Dunmer at the docks said, bowing low before stepping off the odd vessel he was aboard. “I have been looking for you.” Tadas then told me why he was here. Many years ago, he was given the position of caretaker on one of the prototypes for the main Battle-Spire. Since then he had visited each Arch-Magister on their appointment and given them the chance to make the prototype their own. “I have to say,” he finished, “that the last two incumbents of the office failed to seize control of the ‘Spire.”

He offered to transport me to the flying rock. I agreed, and followed him aboard the ship he appeared to be captain of. Since we were at sea level and the lump of rock was several hundred feet in the air, it didn’t come as much surprise to me when the ship took to the air and floated silently up to the promontory of rock protruding from the ‘island’. “Impressive levitation spell,” I called to him over the whistling wind. He just grinned back at me, his long grey hair whipping in the wind. Before more than a few minutes had passed, we were drawing level with the ‘dock’ that stuck out into the air. Tadas threw a rope with expert ease over a stanchion and hauled us alongside.

“I will now tell you what I told Gothren,” Tadas said, holding up a hand as I approached the gangplank. “Once you step off this vessel, you are entirely on your own. You will have to find your way into the Battle-Spire prototype and secure it. I can give you no more help than I have already given. Should you secure the ‘Spire, I will be waiting for you at Tel Fyr. If you decide to leave before the Battle-Spire is fully secured you will not be allowed to enter again. Good luck, Sed Vahl.”

With that he boarded his craft and sailed away from the Battle-Spire down towards Sadrith Mora. Now quite alone, or so I hoped, I turned and surveyed the scene. Off to my right rose a stone cylindrical tower. Affixed to the side by a number of gleaming spikes was a slender column of shining metal ~ the top of which flared and curved so that it looked like the blade of a dagger. The top of the island was covered with softly waving green grass, except for those places where the dark stone path ran. In front of me rose a keep, made of the same darkly gleaming red stone as the path and the tower. A huge arch, over which were inset characters in Daedric script made of the gleaming metal, was the only feature on the front of this edifice. In fact, the only thing missing from the arch was the door ~ featureless stone filled the arch. To either side of the keep stood two towers.

So, the first problem facing me was: how do I get inside? Somehow I didn’t think that standing on the stone plaza in front of the door-arch qualified as ‘securing’ the Battle-Spire prototype. A quick reveal spell on the stone arch revealed precisely nothing, so that wasn’t the way to go. I went part of the way around the keep, but the narrowness of the stone ledge at the rear made me too nervous to go any further. Besides, I could see from my current vantage point that there was no doorway on that side either. So: you can’t get in front or back, underneath isn’t possible because thousands of tons of stone are in the way ~ that just leaves…

A levitation spell lifted me to the top of one of the two towers where I found what I’d expected to find. Namely a trapdoor leading down into the tower. The trapdoor wasn’t locked or warded in any way and opened easily when I grasped the big metal ring set into it. A long metal ladder led down into the interior. At the bottom, I found myself in a corridor that ran across the front of the keep. I tried the huge, arched wooden door that stood in a mirror of the outside arch but wasn’t surprised when it didn’t yield. Ignoring, for the moment, the stairs leading down through the rock, I crossed to the other side of the corridor.

An identical ladder and an identical trapdoor at the top. The only difference here was the gleaming silver and black key hanging on the wall. Mindful of Tadas’ words that ‘if I left the Battle-Spire I wouldn’t be allowed in again’, I didn’t go out through the second trapdoor ~ just confirmed it would open if I needed to get out quickly. Returning to the vast, vaulted central hall, I took a deep breath and descended the stairs.

I found myself in an octagonally-shaped chamber. To my left and right, and directly in front of me, were three etched glass doors, made of a frosted glass in a metal frame. The designs etched into the surface were unfamiliar to me, although I sort of recognised them. It wasn’t the doors or the designs that captured my attention though. In the middle of the chamber stood a tall plinth, also eight-sided. This had been truncated at an angle to create a flat surface: on which a series of runic stones were set. Rising up around the column was a wall of glistening sparks ~ or they might have been descending from the ceiling: their motion was so fast and erratic it was impossible to tell. Moving closer and sensing no magical note from the wall of sparks, I reached out a hand.

“Stupid,” I said to myself as I picked myself up off the floor. My entire right side tingled, the sensation similar to that you get when you’ve kept a limb inactive for a while and then move it quickly. I made myself a mental note not to touch anything else unless I’d tested it first and turned to the doors. It didn’t take me long to realise that the black design etched into the top of the key I’d taken matched the design on the right-hand door. Now all I had to figure out was how to use the key in the complete absence of anything that looked like a key-hole.

I examined the door closely, searching the whole frame and jamb for a key-hole into which I could insert the key. It was while I was doing this that I realised that the ‘glass’ wasn’t glass at all ~ it was some form of crystal. Incredibly tough crystal I quickly discovered as the Last Wish bounced harmlessly of the surface without even leaving a scuff mark. I sat down and metaphorically scratched my head. Okay, door, key, no keyhole. The door cannot be forced (I’d tried), nor can it be shattered. Because there was no key-hole, there was no lock I could pick or magic open. With a grin, I bounded to my feet and approached the door again.

The design etched into the glass glowed briefly as I presented the design on the key to it, and then the doors slid apart with a soft hissing sound, retracting into a slot on either side of the doorjamb. Cautiously I crossed the threshold into the flickering light inside the room. As soon as both feet were across, there was a loud click and the room light came to full brightness while, at the same time, the door slid shut behind me. With a yelp, I presented the key to the design, gasping in relief when the doors slid obediently open. Knowing that I had a way out if I needed it, I went further into the room.

Several things struck me all at once. The first was that this chamber seemed to be some sort of workshop, with a large array of tools hanging on the walls near the forge that dominated the room. The second was the large number of metal kegs that stood in one corner ~ obviously intended as some sort of storage for raw materials. The most pressing thing was the rather sudden appearance of two large and aggressive creatures.

Flames licked and spluttered on their ebony black skin and a flame burned in each eye-socket. Each was armed with a large curved sword made of the same gleaming metal as the Daedric symbols in the main hall and the long lengths of chains they had wrapped around their wrists and ankles. Some sort of fire elemental I decided, ducking under the scything swing of the curved sword. Things got a bit hectic then, I had an axe that would have no effect on them beyond what physical damage it could do and an array of offensive spells ~ most of which were fire-based!

[Burnt Sierra]

[quote=OverrideB1]
Flames licked and spluttered on their ebony black skin and a flame burned in each eye-socket. Each was armed with a large curved sword made of the same gleaming metal as the Daedric symbols in the main hall and the long lengths of chains they had wrapped around their wrists and ankles. Some sort of fire elemental I decided, ducking under the scything swing of the curved sword. Things got a bit hectic then, I had an axe that would have no effect on them beyond what physical damage it could do and an array of offensive spells ~ most of which were fire-based![/quote]

I don't know about Sudhendra, but my reaction would be,

PANIC

but somehow I suspect she'll keep her head more than I would.

As always, a delight to read, and seeing as I don't play with mods this is completely new to me. Hm, it's like Christmas in April.

[minque]

[quote=burntsierra][quote=OverrideB1]
Flames licked and spluttered on their ebony black skin and a flame burned in each eye-socket. Each was armed with a large curved sword made of the same gleaming metal as the Daedric symbols in the main hall and the long lengths of chains they had wrapped around their wrists and ankles. Some sort of fire elemental I decided, ducking under the scything swing of the curved sword. Things got a bit hectic then, I had an axe that would have no effect on them beyond what physical damage it could do and an array of offensive spells ~ most of which were fire-based![/quote]

I don't know about Sudhendra, but my reaction would be,

PANIC

but somehow I suspect she'll keep her head more than I would.

As always, a delight to read, and seeing as I don't play with mods this is completely new to me. Hm, it's like Christmas in April. [/quote]

YaY...well said there...Christmas in April...that´s exactly what it is....and a sheer joy :goodjob:

[Wolfie]

Cool a replica BattleSpire. Can only hope she "secures" it. Could lead to some interesting events if she becomes the proud owner of her very own BattleSpire

[OverrideB1]

Fortunately, Aryon’s glove proved to be effective for short periods of time and I could force the two titanic creatures to fight each other while I got my breath back and whaled on them with the Ebony sword. It wasn’t easy ~ every time I used the glove I could feel the strain of controlling one of the creatures and, I knew, that the glove had only a finite number of charges. It proved to be just enough to get the job done, with a strange noise the two creatures crumbled to ash, the large piles of gritty material suddenly sparking and vanishing ~ leaving behind one of the two large swords.

“Tssss!” I hissed, yanking my hand back from the hilt and sucking on my fingers until the burning sensation went away. Today seemed to be my day for trying unutterably stupid things ~ like trying to pick up a metal sword that was recently carried by a fire elemental. While I waited for the sword to cool down somewhat, I explored the room. The equipment was basic but functional, if you had any clue what to do with the majority of it. Still, the repair tools and the anvil would come in handy; I’d worry about the forge at some other time. There was lots of storage space, and places to hang weapons on the wall, as well as some shelves for smaller items. It was while exploring this shelf that I found another silver and black key and a black leather glove. The glove sang an odd note, deep and sonorous, and it fairly screamed ‘powerful’ despite the fact that it was a plain black glove made of leather with, I now noticed, some silvery threads running across the palm.

I returned to the sword and found, to my consternation, that it was every bit as hot as it had been before. Carefully I probed it for magic but found it completely mute. Too dangerous for me to pick up, I decided to leave it where it was. Exiting the chamber, I returned to the octagonal room and examined the remaining two doors. As I’d hoped, the symbol on the left-hand door matched the symbol on the key. Matching them together caused the door to open and I stepped into the chamber inside.

I was prepared for the sudden increase in light and the way the door hissed shut this time. Standing with my back to the glass, I carefully surveyed the room. Along one side ran a series of shelves, large stone jars sat on each wooden ledge. There was a plaque attached to the front of each of the jars but, at this distance, I couldn’t determine if there was anything written on them. Dominating the back of the room was a large workbench, on the top of which was a complete set of gleaming alchemical apparatus. To the side of the bench was a small bookcase and I could see a small collection of books standing on its shelves. The right-hand wall was lined with boxes, barrels, and crates. Two additional features completed the room’s decoration. The first was an ornate, glass-fronted cabinet right next to the door and, by peering through the green-tinted glass, I could see several phials stacked on the shelves. No cheap potions in earthenware flasks here ~ these were the extremely expensive kind of potion, the sort sold in tiny gold and glass vials. The room’s last feature was a sunken area, again octagonal in shape. I couldn’t make out what was at the bottom of the pit but the sweet smell of growing things gave me a fairly good idea.

I knew that this chamber would have its guardians and standing here with my back pressed to the door wasn’t going to reveal them any time soon. I stepped off the step into the room and suddenly found myself standing shin-deep in icy cold water. Even as the chill sank in, the water rippled and surged, forming a sort of inverted whirlpool. From the aquatic vortexes stepped two more elementals, only this time made of water. I didn’t have the advantage of Aryon’s glove this time: but I wasn’t about to let that slow me down. With a savage yell, I swung the Ebony sword around at the height of the elemental’s head.

With a loud splash I landed in the water, scrambling away as the elemental extended a staff of liquid bound in sparkling light and slammed the end down where my head had been a second before. The second elemental was getting uncomfortably close and, getting to my feet, I lashed my sword towards its chest. The creature never even flinched, not even attempting to stop or block the blow. And I quickly understood why ~ the ebon blade passed harmlessly through the creature ~ having no more effect than a pebble thrown into a pond. Dodging the staff-strike it aimed at my head, I back-pedalled frantically as I launched a fireball at the thing. That had about as much effect as the Ebony sword had had.

Scrambling to avoid them, I launched several more spells but nothing would seem to catch. Finally, I had to use the escape exit provided: presenting the key to the door and diving through as it hissed open. The two elementals stood on the threshold for a moment, and then collapsed in a splashing wave back into the lake that now filled the room. A lake, I despairingly noticed, that didn’t vanish as the doors slid shut.

I was in a quandary, from what Tadas had said, previous Arch-Magisters had taken control of the Battle-Spire and used it as a base of operations. Gothren, and whoever had preceded him, had failed to establish their mastery of the ‘Spire. All I had to do was figure out how they’d failed and the others had succeeded and I was home and dry. Talking of dry, my robe was soaked…

The forge burned merrily, apparently not consuming the tarry black substance that was the source of the flames. It was a matter of minutes before I was dry again… that’s when it hit me: fire and water! Fire dries up water if it’s hot enough so, all I had to do was persuade the two water elementals to come in here and stand in front of the forge for a week or two and I’d be home free. Which was a stupendously stupid idea. What I needed was something like that white-hot sword the fire elemental had dropped. I slapped my forehead in frustration, wishing that I could wind back time and start this day over again.

The black leather glove proved to be magically attuned to the blade, protecting me from the intense heat it generated. Despite the massive size of the sword, it was light as a feather ~ and bloody hot. And it made very short work of the two elementals too. As they finally dissolved back to whatever watery segment of Oblivion they’d come from, the lake of water in the room mysteriously vanished. The only trace of it was the endlessly cycling water of the small fountain that adorned the lush garden at the bottom of the eight-sided pit.

To my dismay, the sword was cooling rapidly: the white hot metal already gone cherry-red. Of course, if I had things figured correctly, it would be of no use to me in the third and final chamber. As if to confirm that the blade had served its purpose, it cooled enough to touch in seconds before becoming as cold as any other blade. But what a weapon it was: still incredibly light with an impressive reach and a razor-sharp edge to the now coldly glinting metal. Placing the sword on the workbench, I picked up the staff the elementals had left when they gone. Like the sword before it, it bore no trace of magical song and required nothing special to handle it. Roughly the length of my arm, the water at the core of the glittering light was the blue of deep oceans ~ and contained the same sense of massive power. The key I needed to open the final chamber was where I expected it to be, on the shelves next to the storage jars.

The third and final chamber was the Battle-Spire’s Master Quarters. There were a large number of shelves and bookcases, some very comfortable looking chairs, a large bed, and two earth elementals. Fortunately, I had the measure of this place now and quickly disposed of my opponents with the water-staff I had obtained in the alchemy chamber. To my unending delight, their demise seemed to be the cue for a subtle shift in the ‘Spire: I could hear several loud clanging noises.

When I returned to the octagonal central chamber, the wall of sparks had vanished and I could now examine the truncated pillar. Etched into the surface was a map of Vvardenfell, the location of several major towns picked out with precious stones. There was also a black stone set into the fascia ~ off to one side and surrounded by several concentric rings of silver. The rune-carved stone currently sat over an emerald on the eastern side of the map.

I made my way out of the Battle-Spire by way of the ladders in the tower. As I levitated down to the large plaza the stood in front of the keep I realised that a wooden door had formed in the stone archway. Tadas had returned in his strange vessel and he greeted me heartily. “Congratulations Sed Vahl,” he called, walking along the dock to where I stood. “The Battle-Spire is yours. Here is a key that will return you to the ‘Spire from anywhere you happen to be. I am at your disposal, and you may have use of my Solar Ship if you need it.”

Tadas led me back into the ‘Spire and showed me how to control it. The odd location on the map proved to be part of the Outer Realms and it was here, in the swirling void, that I decided to park the Battle-Spire ~ I could think of nowhere safer. I was in for another surprise. Inside each of the chambers a new elemental stood, only these showed no desire to attack and, according to Tadas, were ‘servants’. I quickly found that I could summon and dismiss them at will: a discovery that caused me considerable peace of mind.

[Wolfie]

Cool. I want one of them
But seriously, keep up the good work

[minque]

What on Nirn would Sudhendra do with a.....Battle Spire?? Must be some weird Telvanni-mystery here

Very thrilling indeed.....what will happen next?