Morrowind, A fanfic Options

[Olen]

Big stuff happening here though I'm fascinated to know what scroll could possibly make the temple abandon Molag Mar. And thats a lot of magic they're planning - I can see other forces opposing it, Hlaalu have a lot of money, I can see them buying some magical help here.

I really like how there aren't really any good people, Helseth is pretty unpleasant, the Telvanni are planning on killing a good few and going on a conquest, Varvur seems to have been mislead into doing the Morag Tong's business for them.

Even better is how the different leaders all sit at the cerntre of great webs and all think they're ahead of and/or using all the others. Brilliant.

[Agent Griff]

Seeing as Hlaalu's got a lot of wealth, I think Helseth will buy off the Mages Guild and Fighters Guild so as to counter the magical influence of the Telvanni. At least, I remember from Morrowind that the Telvanni and the Mages Guild didn't really get on with each other. It would be a pretty obvious move if you ask me.

[Alexander]

Chapter 10. Stranger in a strange land.

Cyrodiil, largest province of the empire and home to the Emperor, the Imperial palace and the Imperial city. And that was where Varvur found himself now, staring up at the gates that gave entrance to the greatest city known to civilization. It stretched out as far as the eye could see, and was home to thousands of people. Here was one city that was most definitely many times larger then Vivec. Even standing outside the gates one could hear the noise of the crowds.

Varvur’s trip to the Imperial City had been uneventful; he had been able to travel with a large caravan heading out of Kragenmoor. He’d joined it as a guard, something no caravan could ever have too many of. The pace hadn’t been as fast as Varvur would have liked, but at least he could be sure of a good cover story for being there, and no trouble with anyone along the way.

What greeted him just beyond the gate was the Talos Plaza district. Named after the old Emperor Tiber Septim, believed to have become divine himself and risen as the god Talos. It was getting very late, so Varvur decided to find a place to sleep for now and start his search on the morrow. Though with such a large place he had no idea where to start looking. Unlike the inns, his quest did not have convenient signs to point the way.

Varvur took a room at the Tiber Septim hotel. While he slept for a few hours, he found himself wide awake again in the middle of the night. Something had woken him, perhaps a dream. He faintly recalled hearing a loud booming voice warning him to leave Cyrodiil with all haste lest he never be able to leave alive. Feeling hungry, Varvur slowly stood up, dressed himself and went into the dining room to see if there might be an early breakfast for him. Thinking back to the dream he had to admit he was more shaken then he’d care to say. Something about that voice really gave him the creeps.

Varvur was lucky- there was indeed some food to be found in the dining room, and it seemed he wasn’t alone. In front of the fireplace he saw a kindly old man- no, not just a man, a Legionnaire it would seem. At least he was wearing Legion armour, though of an old-fashioned kind. The man himself looked to be very old, balding with grey hair on the back of his head and on the sides. He was staring into the flames, likely thinking of times long past. Varvur turned and sat at the table; there was some fresh bread to be had, as well as an assortment of sweets.

“Did you have trouble sleeping, young master Sarethi?”

Varvur looked up; the man had spoken though he was still sitting with his back to him. Somewhere in his mind he was wondering how the man could know his name, but he found himself answering all the same,

“Yes, I had a bad dream; it’s starting to fade already though.”

“Heh, bad dreams. Yes some people inhabit our dreams to try and dissuade us from doing what we must. Don’t worry about it, though. If people were really that confident about themselves, they wouldn’t have the need to send us dreams, now would they? They’d simply be here themselves.”

Varvur thought about that, and found it made a lot of sense.

“So,” the old man continued, “what brings you to this fair city?”

For a reason Varvur didn’t understand, he did not reply with the cover story he’d been thinking of but answered honestly.

“I’ve come in search of my late master’s killer. His assassin isn’t here but someone that can lead me to him or her is most likely somewhere in this city. Fafnir he’s called. You wouldn’t by chance know where I could find him, old man?”

The old man looked at Varvur, smiling. He had the nicest eyes Varvur had ever seen.

“Well young lad, there’s no chance involved, but yes I would happen to know where to find Fafnir. He does indeed live in this city. And even comes into this hotel from time to time.”

“Then please, old man, tell me where to find him.” Varvur excitedly exclaimed.

“Hm, I think I will now, however, the question you need to ask yourself, Varvur, is: Are you willing to pay the price for the information? I can lead you to Fafnir, and beyond him you will find your answers, but I require a favour in return. Are you willing to repay me that favour?”

“Yes, if you can lead me to lord Nerevar’s killers, I promise I will do whatever you ask of me.”

“Be careful what you say there, young master Sarethi. You never know if someone might not take advantage of it. But it is good of you to promise. Very well, it is not for me you need to do something, but you will meet someone in a few days time. He will ask you for a very large service, not just killing someone, not just a bit of money; no, this is a service of the most serious kind. If you promise me that you will do this service for him, then I will give you the information you want. And don’t worry, what he asks you can wait until after you’ve uncovered the answers to your questions.”

Varvur replied after a moment in thought, “I accept.”

“Good, very good. The man you’re looking for lives in the market district, and often frequents the Merchants Inn there. He has his own house though, where you can find him. Ah, and please, have this.” The old man handed Varvur an ancient-looking coin.

“I reckon it’s not worth much anymore, but it should help you remember your promise, wouldn’t you agree? Young men these days so swiftly forget things.”

“But I promised, old man, and I won’t forget my promise. I will repay this man’s favour, whomever he may be.”

“ Good, that is good of you, Varvur. Now, I think these old bones are ready to give sleeping one more try. Good night, master Sarethi, may you be blessed in your travels.”

Just as the old man was walking out of the door, Varvur called after him, “But sir, you never told me your name.” He wasn’t sure if the old man had heard, but he thought he heard a whisper of “Wulf” as the door closed.

[Burnt Sierra]

Aah, Wulf. One of my favourite npc's in Morrowind - back when I was playing the game and didn't have the internet. Getting that coin, getting that new power - and having that lightning bolt of realisation (I'm fairly certain I even exclaimed a loud satisfied OOOH at the time). Priceless moment.

And with the big players all in, Helseth, Fyr all the Great Houses, The Morag Tong... now perhaps the biggest of them all is guiding young Varvur along, just as he did with The Neravarine years before.

Bloody good update Al!!

[The Metal Mallet]

You are weaving a very nice and engaging plot here. I can't wait to see the dam burst!

[Alexander]

Varvur must have gone back to bed after that, because he woke in the morning to a nice warm sun shining outside. He remembered his conversation very vividly, but wondered if it hadn’t just been a dream? That is until he pulled his trousers on and felt an old iron coin in his right pocket, just where he’d put it last night. Smiling to himself, he dressed further and headed out into the city. He didn’t have to ask around a lot to be pointed to the Merchants Inn. He went inside and ordered a glass of wine. Not everyone in the inn looked entirely respectable, so he thought it best not to pronounce to the world that he was a noble. And in his rough travel clothing and with all the armour and weapons, he knew he could easily pass for a mercenary. Looking around the room he saw a number of other people, a few Nords, some Bretons, mostly Imperials though, no Khajiit or Argonians and only a few Redguards. It didn’t take him long to find the man he was looking for. In the corner there were a few rowdy Nords, one of which was called Fafnir by his friends.

It was early in the afternoon, yet already it appeared most of the Nords were drunk. Appeared to be, because Varvur saw that with Fafnir, most of the meed seemed to somehow wind up either on his clothes, or in the plant standing next to him. One had to really look carefully to see it, but to Varvur is was clear this Fafnir was not nearly as drunk as he wanted others to believe. While he was laughing with the others, his eyes were constantly looking around, taking in every part of his surroundings.

Varvur made sure to keep his head down, and never to look directly at Fafnir. He knew it would be best to simply wait until Fafnir went away, so that he might follow him home and question him there. It took a few hours, but around supper time Fafnir announced to his friends that he was going home. Varvur waited until he was outside, then payed his tab and followed him. As he got outside, he was just in time to see Fafnir round a corner on his right. Slowly and quietly following him, he cautiously looked around the corner, and saw Fafnir opening his door. Varvur slowly crept forward and then sprinted the last few yards so that just as Fafnir was closing the door again, Varvur threw all his weight at it and flung himself inside. Fafnir stumbled back with a look of surprise on his face. He was clearly not expecting someone. Varvur closed the door, and shut the latch. He wanted to be sure no one would disturb him in his conversation with Fafnir.

Fafnir roared, and from the wall he picked up a wicked looking warhammer. It was all white with a head that had ridges on it. Anyone hit with that thing would likely not survive, so Varvur knew had to make sure to avoid the Nord’s wild swings. . He drew his own blade, but feared it would not be enough to stop the heavy hammer. Therefore, he also grabbed a round wooden shield hanging on the wall next to the door. Armed with sword and shield, he stepped into the living room. Fafnir smartly stayed in that room, his warhammer would be next to useless in a small room, but in here he could swing it as much as he’d like. He started by swinging it over his head, gaining speed with every rotation, round and round still faster and then aimed it at Varvur, who was just barely able to get the shield in front of him. Varvur felt his entire arm ringing from that one blast and realized how lucky it was that he had grabbed the shield; he could only imagine how his arm would have looked had the warhammer connected with it. The two men circled each other, Varvur getting a few blows in, a small scratch on an arm, a slice at a leg, all small wounds which had Fafnir bleeding, but it seemed there was no slowing him down. He kept swinging the warhammer and at times aimed it at Varvur. After a few blows, the shield was ready to be tossed aside. It would likely not survive another blow. Varvur had to think fast. Just then he saw that Fafnir was extending his hand again for what might have been a killing blow, but Varvur used all of his speed, moving not away from Fafnir but nearer to him, and turning just a bit, he brought his sword arm down with lightning speed.

Fafnir cried out in pain and in shock, and Varvur took the moment to aim yet another blow at him, though this time he hit him with he hilt of the blade, as hard as he could on the back of his head. Fafnir slumped down, his right hand still clutching the stump of his left wrist, while next to him lay his mighty warhammer with his left hand still holding it. Fafnir was bleeding heavily, and Varvur knew he’d best treat that if he wanted to be able to ask Fafnir some questions. He lit the fireplace as fast as he could, using his own inner magic to bring the fire faster then it might have otherwise. Once a bed of coals was glowing in the grate, Varvur took a blade hanging from one of the walls and put it into the fire. When it glowed red with heat, he picked up Fafnir’s left wrist , and held the red hot blade against it, using the heat to close the wound.

After Varvur was sure the wound was closed, he bound Fafnir’s arms behind him and his legs together, then went to look through his home. He found very little of use, and no information, though there were some black Mallams in a top room, and he also discovered a hidden hatch on the ground floor, leading to a small basement. From the looks of it, the basement had been often used as torture chamber. There was a bolted down steel chair in the center of the room, a fireplace, and all sorts of needles, pliers, pins, knives and things Varvur did not even have a name for. It also seemed the room was well isolated and that little to no noise would escape once the hatch was carefully sealed. Varvur knew it would not be easy to get information from Fafnir, but was determined to do whatever it took. He carried Fafnir down into the basement, seated him on the chair and first untied his legs. He retied them with the steel bands attached to the chair, which went around his lower legs and ensured that he would not be able to free himself once the pin was inserted into the lock. Then came his hands; one could be locked in a steel band around the wrist, but Varvur had to use some supple leather to bind Fafnir’s left arm to the chair. And last there was a leather band that went around his neck to keep his head upright.

Varvur started a fire in the fireplace there, and then went to look at some potions standing on a plank above some pliers. They had clear descriptions on them for what they did. Some were used to keep people conscious no matter how much pain they were feeling, others were to inflict pain, to wake someone up or to put someone to sleep. He chose a small bottle that woke someone up, and mixed it with a potion that would keep Fafnir conscious, and forced it into him. Fafnir woke almost at once, shouted curses and did his best to get out of the chair, but of course it did not work. He threatened to kill Varvur once he got out, and all of his family, and much more. Varvur just let him shout a while to tire himself out. Then he hit him across the face.
“Tell me what L.L. stands for and you’ll save yourself a lot of trouble, Fafnir.”

“I will never betray the Brotherhood; you’ll need to kill me first before I betray my brothers.”

“Tell me Fafnir, how many people have you taken here to torture? How many unsuspecting people came to an end here? I imagine you have lost count yourself. But even knowing that, I’ll give you more choice then you likely ever gave them. Speak now, tell me who L.L. is, and where I can find him, and I’ll end your life swiftly. Don’t tell me, and I’ll be forced to make you speak.”

Fafnir said nothing at that, he only glared at Varvur and then spit in his face.

“Very well,” Varvur said with a determined look. He started by taking a few needles he’d put into the fire, and slowly inserted one underneath each nail of Fafnir’s remaining fingers. Unfortunately he got no answers then, not even when he cut off 5 toes one after another, not when he made an incision in his stomach, and used a hot knife to slowly cut away some inner muscles one small piece at a time. It wasn’t until he started on Fafnir’s groin that he finally got the answers he was looking for. By then Fafnir was only still awake due to the potion. If not for that, then he would have been long unconscious from pain. Varvur did keep his word though; after Fafnir had given him the answers he needed, he used a sharp blade to cut his throat. When he did it he could almost see gratitude in Fafnir’s eyes. And with it, after some gurgles, the screaming stopped.

Varvur felt very dirty. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to use such methods to get someone to speak; sometimes there was simply no other way to get information, but it was something he had never gotten used to. He slowly, as if in trance, stumbled up the stairs into the kitchen, and threw up in a bucket. He cried himself to sleep that night, sleeping in Fafnir’s bed. He knew he needed sleep before going on. After he woke he dressed, and went up to the top chamber. Fafnir had been clear, the man L.L. was called Lucien- he did not know the last name. To contact him, Fafnir would release one of the black ravens in his loft, with a small note attached to the leg that read only a single letter. F. Three days later, he would have to be sure to be sleeping in a room in Pell’s gate, a tavern a ways south of the Imperial City, just beyond the old bridge, and there Lucien would wake him.

After he let the raven out, he wanted to get out of this house as soon as he could. He took all of his own things, making sure to leave Fafnir’s items there, and got out of the house. As he stepped outside, a small patrol of guards was walking past, they looked at him, and as one drew their blades and pointed them at him.

“Halt citizen,” they loudly proclaimed, ”drop your weapons and then don’t move.”

Not understanding what was happening, Varvur still complied. Two of the guards went inside Fafnir’s house, while the other three stood guard over Varvur. As Varvur was wondering what was wrong, he looked down, and saw what the guards had also noticed, that his boots were still covered in blood. And naturally the two guards who had entered the house came back out, and told the others that they had found a body inside, terribly mutilated.

As Varvur was taken to jail, all he could think about was Pell’s gate, and meeting Lucien there. If he didn’t make it, all would be for naught.

[Agent Griff]

So Varvur isn't afraid to get his hands dirty when the situation calls for it eh? I liked this update very much. But still, with the Martin references.

The raven was a dead give-away. Detailing the methods Varvur used to torture Fafnir was...well gruesome but I believe that was the intended purpose of that paragraph. It also gave a feeling of despair and uselessness however, since Fafnir seemed not to be affected by any of it. Great work. I like the chapters featuring Varvur, since they're somewhat more personal than the ones with Baladas or Helseth.

[Alexander]

So Varvur isn't afraid to get his hands dirty when the situation calls for it eh? I liked this update very much. But still, with the Martin references.

The raven was a dead give-away. Detailing the methods Varvur used to torture Fafnir was...well gruesome but I believe that was the intended purpose of that paragraph. It also gave a feeling of despair and uselessness however, since Fafnir seemed not to be affected by any of it. Great work. I like the chapters featuring Varvur, since they're somewhat more personal than the ones with Baladas or Helseth.

Well, I guess Varvur is my version of a hero character, a local boy, not privy to all the plotting and wars and backstabbing and whatnot going on, who finds himself in situations he wasn't prepared for. I mean he's no ancient powerful wizard, he's not a king with several great houses and thousands of people behind him, he's just one boy, dishonored for letting his charge be killed and struggling to find the answers to this puzzle that is the poisoning.

You know, I really enjoyed writing about all the characters I wrote, from their standpoints. Varvur as I described above, being in the black, not knowing anything and yet being taken advantage of by people, or at least people trying to use him.

Baladas, a powerful Wizard, of course I think most people know how much I myself enjoy playing such a character, but at the same time he doesn't know any more then the rest of us and right now anyway, finds himself in the same situation as Varvur, where there are tons of people plotting and he can only stand by and look at it, and be used.

And Helseth, you know I never play a truly evil character in any of my games, it simply doesn't appeal to me. But for some reason I loved writing about Helseth. In a way I can make him do all the things I'd never do myself, all the things no one would ever do because people are too decent to do them, but when you have a character with no scruples, it's liberating really.

Personally though when I look at the characters and have to choose my favorite characters, two stand out. One is someone you've all met already, the unknown person underneath the black hooded robe. And two is someone you'll meet a couple chapters from here. I don't want to spoil anything, but those two are my own personal favorites.

[Alexander]

Chapter 11. Assault.

The past days had been booming with rumors. The ranking Hlaalu noble, Crassius Curio, had been murdered in his own home. The perpetrator, at least according to official sources, had fled the scene of the crime, observed by another nobleman of that same house. Baladas thought it unlikely Dram Bero would have ever harmed Crassius Curio, so someone must want to make Dram look bad, but why? Perhaps the answer would come to him. Helseth had been named the new head of the Hlaalu.

He had been busy as well. He’d taken his forces, passed by Tel Aruhn to gather those men and then gone on down to Tel Uvirith where they would be leaving very soon. Reynel Uvirith could only be called odd, even for a Telvanni. She had been born with a different last name, that of one of the previous masters of House Telvanni. That master had been killed when she was quite young, barely out of her teens. She responded to the killing in typical Telvanni fashion, by killing the killers. Everyone had expected her to assume the newly vacated position, but instead she told them they could keep it. She was last seen boarding a ship that sailed for Akavir. What she did there was known to no one, but when she returned many years later, she had changed. Not on the outside; she still looked very much the same as when she left, only older, but rumors were floating around that she’d studied magic with famed Akaviri Wizards. Magic was done differently in Akavir and they also used very different spells. Rumors told of impossible feats of magic perpetrated on the Akaviri continent, feats never before seen on Tamriel and feats no Tamrielic wizard could ever hope to copy.

She returned to Sadrith Mora one day, officially joined house Telvanni, and rose through the ranks like a meteor. Until she reached the rank of Wizard, that is. Then she declared herself content. She moved out here, into the barren Molag Amur region, had her Tel constructed at the site of a long dead Telvanni figure and took his last name. From then on she almost always wore a hooded black robe, and Baladas was not alone in feeling uncomfortable when he was around her. But the most astonishing thing had come later. She planted a small seed near the edge of Uvirith’s Grave, and while every one of her servants assumed the seed would never grow, it did. It grew into a magnificent tree. And around the tree what had always been barren land grew to be a meadow. The larger the tree grew, the larger the meadow grew, and right now it stretched for about two miles in every direction from Tel Uvirith. It formed an oasis among the Barren rocks.

When asked about it, Reynel would always say she got the seed as a gift from a great Akaviri Warlord. It came from a gigantic tree located in the center of the Akavir continent, that was believed to be the physical form of the god Epyon. While not much was known about him, those who were familiar with him knew he always brought joy to a room, and perhaps that would explain the meadow where once no life could grow. It was also said by Reynel that he made for an excellent chess opponent, but Baladas frowned at that. “A tree playing chess? Now I’ve heard everything.”

In front of the Tel, the troops were massing. Baladas knew, however, that they were far too few if it came to a fight over Ghostgate. With only two ways inside, and long, narrow, Velothi-style corridors beyond, he knew he needed an army far larger then this if he had to take it by force. He was hoping the sealed scroll would do what Divayth had promised it would. Destroying Ghostgate was simply not an option; the strategic value of a fort at that place was simply too great to destroy.

The journey to Ghostgate proved uneventful; there wasn’t much but stone and rock between Tel Uvirith and Ghostgate, and the host crossed the mountain range using levitation spells, or potions and scrolls for those who were unable to cast spells themselves. At the other side of the range the host regrouped and marched to Ghostgate in formation.

When they came into view, Baladas bid halt to his army and took only two of his retainers with him as he walked on. He left Reynel Uvirith behind in charge of the army, and in the sleeve of his robe, he felt the sealed scroll. He entered the Tower of Dawn, and crossed it to the Ghostgate temple. Inside he found Rilvase Avani, the ranking priest in Ghostgate.

She looked at him, and went to shout for the Armigers when she saw him reach into his sleeve. But when she saw it was only a scroll she seemed to change her mind. She reached for the scroll and Baladas saw her carefully examining the seal. Probably checking to see if it was genuine. She broke the seal and unrolled the scroll. It did not take long to read. She then looked up, straight at Baladas, then at the scroll again and lowered it.

“So, war is coming is it?” she asked him.

“Yes, it would appear so.”

She gestured for an aide to approach and told him, “Go to both towers; tell all of our Armigers that we’re about to receive many guests. Make sure they understand their duty and stay their weapons whenever our guests are around. They are to take no action. Understood?” When the aide had confirmed the orders, she gestured for him to leave and see to it.

Then she turned back to Baladas and asked, “Do you know what you hold here, Telvanni?”

“No, actually I did not read the scroll; what does it say?”

“It has but a single line: ‘Remember your oath, the old and the new’.”

Baladas had no idea what she was getting at, and it must have shown for she continued,

“When lord Nerevar vanquished Dagoth Ur and was awarded dominion of Morrowind, he held a meeting with all the high members of the Temple. In it he told us he wanted to make sure the Temple would never again get involved with a conflict internally in Morrowind. During the time of his return, we nearly cost lord Nerevar his life twice; once by keeping information from him, and the second time by proclaiming him false incarnate and declaring his life forfeit. He made us swear oaths that we would never again be involved in any conflict within Morrowind. And he made us swear that everyone not present at the meeting would swear the same oath, and last he made us add that new oath to the oath new priests take. You see, even if we wanted to, we could not oppose you, nor anyone else. From now on, we are always neutral.”

The enormity of that statement hit Baladas. If the Temple remained neutral, then three cities would remain neutral: Ghostgate, Molag Mar and Vivec. All three were governed by the Temple through their Buoyant Armigers. Divayth had been right all along; both Ghostgate and Molag Mar would not oppose them. While that did not help them should they face attack by other Great Houses, it would at least keep the Temple out of the way. This was certainly a good thing.

[Olen]

The plot thickens. I like the darker side you showed to Varvur, and that he commited the crime and was caught. Great stuff, I wander how he'll escape.

[Agent Griff]

So old Fyr's ploys finally come into play. Brilliant turn of events there, allowing the Temple null involvement in the events to come. I really wasn't expecting but I understand the need for such an oath. Great twist you have there. Keep up the great work!

[Alexander]

The next few days were spent settling in at Ghostgate. Some of the men went back to Tel Uvirith with orders to come only when needed, but nearly half of the men stayed at Ghostgate. It was a tight fit, but after they had “persuaded” the Redorans present there to vacate, they were all able to just fit in. It was also the day Baladas was going to Vivec to see Eno Hlaalu.

There were very few secrets left in Vivec not known to the Telvanni; they’d known about the Headquarters of the Morag Tong there for many years. He had no intention of making a scene. He knew that yesterday, Divayth Fyr had visited king Helseth in Mournhold to announce the Telvanni claims to Suran and Dagon Fel, and the different regions on Vvardenfall they had conquered, and Baladas knew that after that, things would really come to a head. He didn’t know how much the other houses knew already, or had found out by now, so he was glad the Telvanni compound was right next to the arena.

He decided to stop by Mavon Drenim on his way to the Arena. Mavon Drenim was the ranking noble of house Telvanni inside Vivec and would likely face quite a challenge; staying put in a place surrounded by enemies was not a task Baladas envied him for. Even though he was only a spellwright, few could match Mavon’s skill in conjuration. He’d studied under Felen Maryon, who was undoubtedly Telvanni’s leading conjuration expert, and few mages in their right mind would ever consider facing either Felen Maryon or one of his pupils.

A tall Mer, especially for Dunmer standards, Mavon’s upright hair made him appear taller still. He always carried a Wizards staff with a wicked Fire enchantment on it, and he looked very impressive indeed.

“Hail Magister Demnevanni. What brings you to our fair city this day?”

“Just wanted to make sure you haven’t been experiencing any problems, Mavon. No one has tried anything here yet have they?”

“Actually Magister, they did. Quite a few Hlaalu tried to come after us yesterday, but the new guards of Vivec, the Buoyant Armigers, stopped them. I guess the temple is determined to remain neutral as they vowed.”

“Well, that’s a positive thing in any case. Is there anything more you need, Mavon? Anything we need to supply you with?”

“No thank you Magister; we’ve been managing on our own for many years, and we’ve never had to rely on other parts of Vivec and don’t now either. We’ll be just fine, don’t worry about us Magister.” Having reassured himself, Baladas took his leave and went to the Arena Storage area, which had for many years held the entrance to the headquarters of the Morag Tong. There was already a thrall waiting for him, and he was admitted straight away. He’d met Eno once before, that time while he was visiting lord Nerevar and Eno had come by, spoken to lord Nerevar for a brief time and then left again. He’d never been this close before though, and couldn’t help but be impressed. For a non-magic wielder, Baladas knew Eno was one of the most dangerous men in Morrowind.

“Welcome Magister, how fare things? And please, when next you see them, pay my respects to Magister Fyr and your new Archmagister, would you?” With that one line Eno had left Baladas nearly stunned; somehow he knew things only members of the House were supposed to know. He knew both that there was a new head of House Telvanni and the fact that he was now a Magister rather then a Master. Impressive, to say the least proving that the rumors of Eno being the master of many whisperers must be correct after all then.

“Thank you Grandmaster. I fare well, and last time I saw them, the men you name as well.”
“Good to hear that Baladas. Now, Divayth tells me you’re here to pick up the special item, am I right?” Baladas simply nodded. It would not do for Eno to find out Divayth had not even bothered to tell him what he was supposed to pick up, let alone what to use it for. Being left in the dark was not something Baladas enjoyed.

“Right. Well, here it is.” Eno went to a drawer, and got a steel plaque out of it. It looked almost like a normal serving tray, but carved into the edge were many mystical signs. Though Baladas did not recognize any of them, he could clearly feel magic emanating from it.

“Now, Divayth also told me you are as yet unfamiliar with this, so please allow me to demonstrate.”

“This is an invention of Divayth’s, I’m told, and it holds a special type of magic that allows you to view things many miles away, sort of like a crystal ball, but far more accurately and it shows things in a much more detailed way. Another function of the artifact is the ability to remember things it has displayed. In this case, it has remembered some very interesting events from a few days ago, the day of the funeral, to be precise.”

Eno touched a few of the signs carved in the plate in a specific order, and in the center where there had first been simply polished steel, Baladas now saw a very clear picture of the inside of a manor. He recognized it straight away and became very interested. As the events unfolded in the picture, Baladas found himself smiling more and more, and as the picture ended, he laughed. Perhaps it really hadn’t been folly to think Telvanni could win this conflict. With what was on this plaque, at least one opponent could easily be neutralized. Eno smiled, for of course he’d known all along what was remembered on the plaque and knew how much it meant to House Telvanni. Baladas had no doubt that getting this plaque from Eno had cost Divayth a fortune, but if it did what Baladas assumed it would do, it would prove worth it many times over. Then a thought came to him.

“What I just saw, it is real? Or is it meant to fool someone?”

“I promise you,” came the reply, “everything seen and heard is genuine and truth.”

Reassured and with even more confidence, Baladas took the plaque, thanked Eno for his help and travelled back to Sadrith Mora.

[Alexander]

Chapter 12. Unlikely choice.

Varvur was banging his cup against the bars of his cell and shouting for a guard to come. He’d been in the cell for a day and a night already and knew time was creeping up on him. He didn’t expect a guard to come, though; he’d been banging his cup against the bars for over an hour now, and no one had so much as checked on them. Yes, them. There was one other prisoner on this cellblock. It was obviously used for only the worst criminals. The man across from him appeared to be scum of the worst kind, dirty, with unkempt hair. And ironically enough, he was a fellow Dunmer, but from the threats and curses he threw at Varvur, one couldn’t tell. Looking around the cell, Varvur saw what he’d seen several times before already, that there was nothing that would help him escape. Naught but a few bones and a skull, a small table and a bucket to use as a privy. And his bed of course with the thin blanket. Nothing. Varvur sat down and put his head in his hands. It seemed hopeless.

A noise woke him from his ponderings, a loud noise. Someone was coming down the stairs, and from what he could hear there were several people.

“Come quickly, your highness, this way.”

“Hey,” a guard spoke to Varvur, “What are you doing here? There wasn’t supposed to be anyone here.”

“I’m sorry captain, I’d be happy to leave if I could.”

Then the man who had been called your highness came into view. Varvur had seen his picture of course, but still, seeing the man in front of him proved to be quite another experience. It was Uriel Septim, Emperor of Tamriel.

“You!” the emperor exclaimed in a voice that told of visiting many different lands, and even worlds, that had gone where few men had gone before.

“I’ve seen you in my dreams. What is your name?”

Varvur replied quietly, all the while keeping his eyes down. There was something strange happening here- he could read it in the tension of the guards posture, the way they held their swords. It would not do to have the guards decide it would be better to butcher him then leave a witness. One of them spoke,

“You prisoner, stand back.”

Varvur stood back as one of the guards opened the door to his cell. He considered rushing them and fighting his way out, but at that moment he noticed the blade hanging from the hip of the emperor. It was the blade of lord Nerevar; even if he could get past the guards, which he doubted, how could he leave the blade here? The guards were entering his cell, there were four of them, and the emperor. One of the guards pulled an innocent-looking chain, and to Varvur’s surprise, part of the wall moved out of the way.

The guards moved swiftly past him, but the last one, a Redguard, stopped for a moment to look at him.

“If you must, you can follow us, and you will be able to leave. But make sure to stay out of our way or I will kill you myself.”

Varvur nodded, indicating that he understood. The Redguard moved to follow the emperor and Varvur went into the tunnel after him.

It appeared to be a very old system of corridors, barely lit, and crumbling. It must have been the oldest part of the city. Luckily some of the guards were carrying torches, else they might not have been able to see anything. In front of them the corridor suddenly went to the right, and Varvur and the others found themselves in a small antechamber. One of the guards called a halt, claiming that he heard something. He slowly moved forward, carefully listening to the surroundings. Varvur heard the blade before he saw it, and cried out a warning but it was too late; the head of the front guard was already rolling away as his body crumpled to the floor. A number of men dressed in red cloaks came at them then. Several engaged the emperor and his guards, but one came at Varvur. The man swung his mace downward and Varvur moved out of the way just a in time. The mace now moved sideways, again straight for Varvur, but he was able to grab the arm of the man before it could connect. A swift tug on the arm had the man overbalanced and spinning to the floor, and it also left Varvur with the mace in his own hands. A swift blow to the head made sure the man would not get a second chance.

Varvur looked around, expecting to see more men, but the emperor’s guards had dealt with the other assailants. The emperor turned to look at him and said,

“Well now, I am glad to have you along. If it had not been for you, we might have been attacked from both sides. As you can see, my guards are already injured and we still have quite a ways to go. But tell me, I saw you looking at this blade; is it familiar to you?”

Varvur quickly explained to whom the blade had belonged and how he came to have it.

“Really, lord Nerevar is dead? These are troubled times indeed. Why I remember it as if it were yesterday when he was in the exact same cell as you just now. I had dreamt about him as well, so I let him go. Pardoned him of the crimes he probably never committed. Well, young Mer, I will tell you what we will do. If you help me get out of these Talos-forsaken tunnels, I will give you back the blade.”

He must have caught Varvur’s questioning look because he added,
“Well, I realise the blade is not mine to give away, but consider this- if we don’t get out of these tunnels, it will do no one any good, now will it?”

Varvur could not disagree with that logic, so he promised to help them. He did catch a mistrusting look from the Redguard, but then he’d made the agreement with the emperor, not the Redguard.

Before exiting the room after the guards, Varvur stopped to pick up the blade of the fallen guard. A katana, not very common in Morrowind, but his father had insisted he train with weapons even from outside the province. He admired the weight and balance for a second, finding that this was truly a magnificent weapon. As he considered everything that had occurred, he realised something he had been thinking of for a while now- the guards must be Blades. No normal guard would be able to afford such a fine blade. Hurrying along, he saw the guards had moved with haste to a door. The last guard to enter was the Redguard, though just before he entered, he turned back to face Varvur.

“This is where we part, Dunmer. We can’t have you trailing along, so you’d better find your own way out.”

And with that he closed the door on Varvur. And locked it. Judging from the thickness he’d seen when the door was open, there was no way Varvur could break through it. Looking over the walls of the room, he noticed a small opening on the right side.

Going down to his hands and knees, he crawled through the opening into the room beyond. It appeared to be part of a cave, the only finished wall on the side where he had come through and the rest naught but sand and roots. Quickly disposing of a few rats that came at him, and a zombie a small ways down, he tried to follow alongside the route the guards and emperor appeared to be taking. There really wasn’t much there, though he did find himself face to face with three goblins at one time. Morrowind wasn’t home to many of the creatures, especially not since an entire army of them, hiding in the sewers of Mournhold, had been destroyed by lord Nerevar, but their crude weapons and tactics proved no match for Varvur’s honed skills.

The sound of weapons clashing reached him, and hurrying on, he was just in time to see another Blade fall to an assassin. He also saw the remaining Blades were hard pressed, each fighting off two or even three assassins, he overlooked the scene from a ledge, and without hesitating, jumped down, taking down two of the Redguard’s assailants as he landed. He quickly got back up, and slashed with his blade, finishing one of the assassins. The other assassin tried to bash him with his mace, but Varvur simply jumped back and used the katana’s longer reach to slash the assassin’s midsection. It’s never a good idea to get involved with a weapon that has a longer range, not unless you’re either very fast, or very heavily armoured. By that time the other Blade had disposed of his attackers as well and came towards Varvur threateningly.

“No, stop it,” the emperor called. “You will not harm him. Can’t you see, he just saved the life of Baurus and you would repay him by taking his life?”

The Blade looked just a bit embarrassed at that and lowered his blade.

[Burnt Sierra]

Well, I was just moaning (just a smidgeon) on TES about how cruel you are with all these cliffhangers, and then this. I'm very close to slapping my hand against my head. I can't believe it, I did NOT see that coming. Not only do we still not know what Baladas saw (grr!), or the identity of the hooded man (double grrr!), but then you completely throw me off course with this.

To use a posh word ( ) that was a beautiful segue, absolutely seamless. This story continues to impress, and is getting better and better. Though you're still a git

[Alexander]

“Tell me,” the emperor continued, “do you believe in the Nine divines?”

What an odd question to ask at a time like this. Varvur considered, but not wanting to insult the emperor, he answered none the less.

“I do not, I worship my ancestors, but my father tells me I was born when the Steed constellation was at its brightest in many centuries.”

At that the emperor nodded, and gestured for the Blades to lead on. The next room proved empty. There was a corridor leading onwards and both Blades insisted on checking it before they went on. As soon as they were halfway through, the emperor once again turned to Varvur and spoke,

“Young Mer, my time grows short. Thankfully it shall not be long now. Please, take this amulet; it is the Amulet of Kings, and only the rightful heir to the throne may wear it and use it to thwart the efforts of the usurper. Please, take it and your lord Nerevar’s blade and find my loyal Blade, Jauffre, at Weynon Priory. He alone knows where to find the last heir of my line.” With that, the emperor handed him a huge amulet and the blade of Nerevar.

As Varvur considered those words, and the enormity of the task, he was not ready when a part of a wall suddenly slid open and an assassin emerged from it. The red-robed killer went straight for the emperor and slashed open his throat. Only when he advanced on Varvur did Varvur drop lord Nerevar’s blade and ready his katana. The assassin only had a knife, and Varvur a long blade, so no glory was earned during that fight.

After the assassin was dead, he heard a wail from behind him, and spun around, raising his blade. But then he lowered it again. Baurus has been the one to voice the wail. He clutched the body of his emperor and looked bereft. Varvur sought to comfort him and explained what the emperor had told him before he died. He also tried to offer the amulet to Baurus, thinking it was rightly the province of the Blades to care for the emperor’s relic.

“Thank the Nine; our work might not have been in vain after all. No, I thank you for trusting me with the amulet, but the emperor gave it to you; it is your destiny to aid the heir, not mine.”

Varvur followed Baurus to the exit, only stopping at the last dead Blade to pick up his armour. Robbing the dead wasn’t really something Varvur liked, but with no armour, his chances of surviving would be small. As they came to the exit, Baurus showed him a way to get outside the city at once, and promised to clear Varvur’s record so no guards would come after him, no matter what crime had been committed. Varvur followed the Blade’s directions, and went through a sewer gate.

Crawling through it, he found himself a little way to the south of the Imperial City. Looking at himself, he found he didn’t look as bad as he might have. With the Blades armour, he might have looked even better then before. He knew he had to hurry. More time had passed then he cared to think on and he knew he had to be sleeping in the tavern at Pell’s Gate by tonight lest he lose his chance to meet this Lucien, the next step on the path to finding Nerevar’s murderers.

He strapped his katana to his back, and tightened the strap around his waist as well, making sure lord Nerevar’s blade would not be lost and slowly got into the water. It was quite cold, and by the time Varvur crawled out on the other side, he was chilled to the bone. He walked in the direction he knew he would find the tavern and luckily, before long he was looking at it. Now came the next dilemma; he had no money. Everything had been taken when he had been thrown into jail, but Varvur decided to be bold. Who needs money when he wears the armour of the Emperor’s own guards?

He proudly walked into the tavern, demanded food, drink and a bed and bid the innkeeper to send the bill to the palace. He wasn’t the first to do so apparently, as the innkeeper looked sullenly at him, but did not say a word against it. He handed Varvur a key to his room and promised to bring along food and drink shortly. Varvur was very glad to once again have a warm bed, and good food. Prison meals simply didn’t cut it compared to this. After he’d had his meal, he went to bed. He took his blade with him, wanting to make sure no one could surprise him during the night.

Even so, he was surprised. Near dawn, he suddenly heard a voice from across the room.

“Come on sleepyhead, haven’t you slept enough? We have quite a bit to do today, so you’d better get moving.”

Varvur sat up, holding his katana in front of him. In the shadows he saw the outline of a hooded, cloaked man, an Imperial by the sound of his voice.

“Are you Lucien?”

“Yes, very good, my name is in fact Lucien Lachance, and your name is Varvur Sarethi. What a pleasure it is to meet such a noble figure so far from home.”

And as Lucien laughed, Varvur somehow got the impression that he was being mocked, but it didn’t matter.

“You mentioned we would be going somewhere? Where are we going? And how do you know who I am?”

“Ah, so many questions for one so young as yourself, but before I answer, a question of my own. Would you not come to work for the Dark Brotherhood instead? You did such a great job getting information out of Fafnir; he must have screamed all night.”

And another loud laugh. Varvur felt sickened; how could this man know so much about him? Nevertheless, he resolved his anguish and answered,

“I would never join you. I did what needed be done, not because I enjoyed it but because I had to.”

“Yes, of course that’s what they all say at first. But no matter, forget I asked. No true Redoran would ever be a good Brother anyway; you’re all far too noble for your own good. Anyway, moving along here; yes, I did in fact mention we would be going on a trip. How familiar are you with the ruling body of the Dark Brotherhood, young noble?”

“I know you’re ruled by 5 people in total, but little else.”

“Very good,” replied Lucien. “Yes 5 people indeed, one listener, and four speakers, together the five fingers of a hand, a black hand that is. I’m a speaker, I speak for the Listener, and the listener has heard the Night Mother had business with you personally. So it is my job to take you to the listener. Now either we can leave today together, or if you refuse, I must ask my operatives to pick you up and escort you there. The choice young Sarethi, is entirely yours.”

With a smile on his face, Lucien sat back and observed Varvur. To Varvur the choice wasn’t a hard one. He had wanted to find the head of the Dark Brotherhood from the start; if people would take him there and shorten his journey, all the better.

“I will come with you,” he told Lucien.

“Wonderful sir, your steed awaits outside, please meet me there in ten minutes.”

And with that, Lucien slowly faded back into the shadows. No door ever opened, no sound was made, but when Varvur got up to look in the corner where Lucien had just sat, there was no longer anyone there. All that was left on the chair was a black hooded robe. It was probably meant for him.

[Agent Griff]

Now you've gone about and turned this story, which I originally thought would only be about the events happening in Morrowind, into an Oblivion fan fic! Who would have guessed? I really like how it's going however. Varvur's meeting with Lachance was great to read and now you've got me really anxious concerning Varvur's meeting with the Night Mother.

Of course, seeing as you've developed the story thus far, the next update will probably feature Helseth and will leave us with a cliffhanger much like the last update featuring Baladas did. Or you may surprise us by revealing what it was that Baladas saw. Either way, this story is such a pleasure to read that I think I won't even feel the passing of time as you reach the second thread with it. You did say it was 120 Word pages long, did you not?

[Alexander]

Now you've gone about and turned this story, which I originally thought would only be about the events happening in Morrowind, into an Oblivion fan fic! Who would have guessed? I really like how it's going however. Varvur's meeting with Lachance was great to read and now you've got me really anxious concerning Varvur's meeting with the Night Mother.

Of course, seeing as you've developed the story thus far, the next update will probably feature Helseth and will leave us with a cliffhanger much like the last update featuring Baladas did. Or you may surprise us by revealing what it was that Baladas saw. Either way, this story is such a pleasure to read that I think I won't even feel the passing of time as you reach the second thread with it. You did say it was 120 Word pages long, did you not?

109 actually, but considering I just posted up to page 61, and tonight will be up to page 65 (long chapter) we still have some ways to go yes.

Ah, and good instinct, next up Helseth again, and just as an authors comment, the second part of this next chapter is also one of my favorite sections that I wrote. You'll get to see why tomorrow

[Agent Griff]

We are all surely waiting on the edge of our seats. As a trivial question though, what role exactly did Treydog have in elaborating this story? Merely spell-checking? Or did he also advise you when it came to plot devices and story elements?

And a little tongue-in-cheek question, will this brilliant story get posted on the main site?

Honestly though, I think it should. And, to make it all democratic and not look like you're abusing your power of choosing what stories get posted on the main site, you could post a poll in which the members of the forum are asked if they would consider this story to be worthy of the main site. I know I would vote twice for it to be posted on the main site, that's just how good it is.

[Alexander]

We are all surely waiting on the edge of our seats. As a trivial question though, what role exactly did Treydog have in elaborating this story? Merely spell-checking? Or did he also advise you when it came to plot devices and story elements?

His contributions have been invaluable in the field of grammar, spelling, and wording of things. Though the plot, story elements, story outline and all the events sprang from my thoughts

And a little tongue-in-cheek question, will this brilliant story get posted on the main site?

Honestly though, I think it should. And, to make it all democratic and not look like you're abusing your power of choosing what stories get posted on the main site, you could post a poll in which the members of the forum are asked if they would consider this story to be worthy of the main site. I know I would vote twice for it to be posted on the main site, that's just how good it is.

Well, if any of my stories are put up it would be this one, this one rather then the first.

I'll likely talk it over with some of the other staff before deciding to put it up though. Though I guess when it comes to choosing the stories that go up on the site, I guess so far I've always done that by myself. Acting either on my own observations when reading things, or on tips from moderators or other members. So far it's worked well

[treydog]

Just to reinforce- the absolutely brilliant plotting was entirely Alexander's. I was pleased to be asked to look over the story before it was posted, and did my usual "English teacher" markups (although I probably missed some....)

The transition from MW to Oblivion was handled beautifully and at the same time caught me by surprise- but after I read it, it made perfect sense. Excellent work, Alexander.