The Story of Trey- Chapter 12 Options

[minque]

[quote=jonajosa]personally i think its a fine qoute but i think we should find another one. One thats more expressive. I seem to find myself writing the same thing over and over about peoples stories.[/quote]

I agree, I also quote that phrase over and over again.....and for a reason...Yay treydog.....great to have another Trey to read, I can imagine there´ll be some thinking to do for our friend dealing with those cunning Telvannis...... :goodjob:

[treydog]

I resolved to try Master Neloth next, as Tel Naga stood in the center of Sadrith Mora. By returning to Sadrith Mora, I would also be able to speak to the other Mouths and hopefully discover how their patrons might react. One thing seemed certain- my dealings with the Telvanni were likely to prove unpredictable. Still, happy to have a plan, even one that probably had small chance of success, I made my way to the Council House. The Telvanni guards seemed to have become used to seeing me around, as indicated by their cheery greetings, such as: “Annoying outlander,” and “Find someone else to bother.” Although the sense of fellowship was similar, the Telvanni hails lacked the zest of the Vivec Ordinators’ “We’re watching you…scum.” Still, I was happy to see that I was making a good impression on my Telvanni hosts. Ignoring the guards, I besought Arara Uvulas, Mouth for Master Neloth. Believing that the tone of Arara’s message to Neloth could affect my chances of success, I offered the Mouth a “gift” of 200 septims “for her valuable time.” How valuable her time really was, since she seemed to spend all of it standing on a platform staring into space, I did not bother to contemplate too deeply. The bribe lightened her frown considerably and she listened politely, if impassively, to my tale. I wondered why I couldn’t just ask all the Mouths to pay attention and tell the blasted story once, but that was not “how things were done” in House Telvanni. All of the other obviously eavesdropping Mouths would pretend that they had no idea who I was or what I wanted, and I would get to run through the whole exercise again, and again. I suppose that when you spend your days standing on a platform, staring into space, and mentally communing with an ancient wizard, you take your amusement where you can find it.

As I had expected, Arara told me that the matter was too important for her and that I should speak directly to Neloth. His tower of Tel Naga arose from the center Sadrith Mora, a massive structure of spiky branches and bulbous growths. Although the tower was impressive in its immensity, it seemed somehow misshapen, as if the mind that had guided its growth was somehow cramped and unable to stretch to new heights. I wondered if a Telvanni tower’s shape reflected the mind of its resident wizard; and, if so, what that might mean for my mission. There was but one way to find out, so I took a deep breath and plunged ahead. Surprisingly, the two retainers I encountered in the Tel Naga entry hall were quite pleasant. Either Arara had kept her promise, and sent word ahead, or these Telvanni were unlike most others. After a quick look around the entry, I espied a doorway to the upper tower, perched in a balcony-like opening across the hall from me. Clearly, the only way to reach the interior door was via levitation- standard practice in most Telvanni residences. Knowing of that particular affectation from my time in Tel Fyr, I had mixed a sufficiency of potions to serve the purpose. Although I had learned to cast a levitation spell, it was chancy at best and tended to wear off at unfortunate times. So I was quite happy to trust in better living through alchemy, and imbibed a potion which allowed me to float across the hall, through the door, and up the central “fly-well.” A number of chambers branched off of the well at different levels, but I suspected that Neloth would follow the practice of using the highest chamber as his workspace.

In that chamber I found a fiercely scowling, ornately dressed Dunmer, who was in the process of complaining about something to a Telvanni retainer. When he saw me, he stopped in mid-tirade and transferred his glare to me. A look of relief flitted across the retainer’s features before he schooled them to stillness. From Aryon’s description, the personable Dunmer in the gold robes must be Master Neloth. His response to my initial greeting confirmed his identity, as he growled,

“Whatever you want, the answer is no.”

As Neloth’s grumpiness was well known, I had been prepared for his surly response. With a theatrical sigh, I allowed my shoulders to slump and cast my eyes downward as if my hopes had been crushed. I also let the bag of gold I was holding in my left hand clink invitingly as it just happened to swing against my leg. Glancing upward, I saw Neloth’s eyes sharpen at the sound.

“Alas,” I intoned in a grief-stricken voice. “To have traveled to fabled Tel Naga to give this gift of 1000 septims to the renowned Master Neloth in furtherance of his research, only to be turned away. Where shall I go now? Perhaps Master Aryon or Baladas Demnevanni will be more interested. Forgive my thoughtless intrusion, Master Neloth. I should have realized that something as insignificant as 1000 septims would not concern so great a wizard.”

With another sigh, I began to turn away. Neloth’s scowl had been replaced by a look of greed and startlement. He snaked a bony hand out to grasp my shoulder and said,

“Wait, Outlander. Perhaps I was a trifle hasty. My studies have not gone well of late and other issues have vexed me. But even so, I would not be so uncouth as to turn down a thoughtful gift.”

His eyes unerringly focused on the bag of coins and lit with glee as I passed it over. Thus encouraged, I launched into my story. Even though Arara was supposed to have communicated all of this, I knew that the Mouths didn’t always tell their patrons everything. And I could understand why Arara would not want to provoke the unpredictable Neloth. It soon became clear that Arara’s judgment had been sound, for Master Neloth’s face quickly went through several interesting variations of color, none of which spoke of a healthy blood pressure. His frown returned full force, and he said,

“What are you going on about? Prophecies, visions, superstitious jibber-jabber? Don't interrupt me with that nonsense. Go bother some bone-through-the-nose shaman or bug-eating wise woman.”

Perhaps there was some elegant and clever solution to this situation. Possibly I could have discovered some artifact or ingredient that would have improved Neloth’s disposition. But such a solution would take time, a commodity I feared I did not have. What I did have was gold, and I would spend it like water if I must. I clapped a dramatic hand to my forehead and said,

“Forgive me, my lord. What I meant to say was that I have another 500 septims to aid you in your research.”

As I had hoped, that thawed the old boy right out, and he said,

“Well, why didn’t you say so? Hortator? War leader of House Telvanni? Is that necessary? Why doesn't anyone tell me about these things? So. Do you want the job? Are you qualified? Good. Then go ahead. I don't care. Be the Hortator. Now go away.”

Not the most ringing endorsement, perhaps, but good enough for my purposes. I quickly disappeared down the central fly-well and contemplated my next move. Therana and Dratha, the two female Telvanni councilors, were left. Each presented a problem- Therana was reputed to be so far around the bend she was likely to meet herself coming the other way, and Dratha disliked males, whatever their race. I had a feeling that my previous problems with women had done nothing to prepare me to deal with those two.

[Soulseeker3.0]

great Job Trey. expecially on the bribeing parts thaqt was creative.

[Wolfie]

I've never seen bribing portrayed in that fashion before....good work! :goodjob:

[minque]

Hope Alexander reads this... It shows clearly the deviousness of his precious Telvanni....

Oh my treydog.....as great as ever :goodjob: may you never stop writing this....

[jonajosa]

:goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob:

[treydog]

As I returned to the Council House, one aspect of my musings about the ways of the Telvanni bore fruit. As all of the remaining Mouths were in the same chamber, I would speak to all three at the same time rather than scurrying back and forth between Sadrith Mora and the various Tels. Besides, unlike the councils of the other Great Houses, it seemed that the Telvanni did not particularly care how the others voted- at least on this issue. Therefore, I told my story to Felisa Ulessen, Mouth for Therana; Raven Omayen, Mouth for Dratha; and Mallam Ryon, Mouth for Gothren. None of them told me anything I did not expect- Therana’s “attention could be hard to get and hold;” Dratha did not like men- I should “do anything possible to improve her disposition;” and Gothren should hear what I had to say as soon as possible. As the Archmagister’s residence at Tel Aruhn was the closest, that suited me. A short stint of water-walking found me outside Tel Aruhn, and Gothren’s retainers were as rude as any Telvanni I had yet encountered. In fact, several of them even went so far as to explicitly state that they would not speak to me because they didn’t like me or my “kind.” Whether they meant Bretons or members of the Mages Guild or Redorans I did not bother to inquire- their animosity was of the greatest indifference to me. All that mattered was being able to convince Gothren to support me as Hortator. Ignoring the insults and hostility, I levitated to the upper hall and found the Archmagister flanked by two Dremora Lords, clearly, summoned guardians. No wonder Aryon wanted me to take on the chore of disposing of Gothren. The Archmagister was scarcely more civil to me than his retainers had been, but his style of dress told me that he was a vain Mer, susceptible to flattery. After I had praised his great wisdom and obvious magical pre-eminence, the pompous old wizard unbent enough to hear the purpose of my visit. As Aryon had predicted, Gothren did not say yes or no; he simply asked for more time. With the consummate skill of a politician, he used a great many words to say nothing-

“No. Wait. Let me think.... Yes. I understand perfectly. Your story makes sense. Your proofs are persuasive.... But a decision on such a remarkable matter is a grave responsibility, and not to be taken in haste. I will need some time to reflect and consider, and to confer with the other Telvanni counselors. Leave me.”

Knowing that I would get no more from Gothren, and that I needed two additional votes, I graciously took my leave. Perhaps Aryon was correct, and the Archmagister would never give me a favorable response. But I did not know that, and I also wasn’t sure how the rest of the House would react to an attack on their leader. Finally, I wasn’t sure that I was prepared to challenge a wizard and his summoned guardians in his lair. That seemed like a remarkably effective way to commit suicide.

Tel Mora, home of Mistress Dratha, was relatively close by, so I left Tel Aruhn and prepared to go north. Just before I departed, I remembered a detail of a previous visit to Tel Aruhn and stopped in to see Bildren Areleth, the apothecary. After making a couple of purchases, I set out to discover if my powers of persuasion could sway Dratha. When I reached Tel Mora, I decided to talk to everyone I could, in hopes of finding some clue as to how to approach the eccentric Dratha. To my surprise, the people of Tel Mora were quite friendly, and I began to wonder if the talk of Dratha was all just a joke. Most of the tradespeople repeated the same story- that Mistress Dratha had been around forever, did not like men, but might still give me some work. Somehow, I got the impression that any work she offered me would be of the “go away, and if I am lucky you’ll get yourself killed” variety. When I reached Berwen’s Tradehouse, I was reminded of why it was important that I see this through. Berwen was a Wood Elf, with the slanted eyes and blonde hair common to her kind. She also appeared to be in a state of extreme agitation, and rushed through the usual greetings in a breathless fashion. As she paused for a moment, she took in my armor and weaponry and asked if I had been sent to “deal with the corprus stalker.” I admitted that it was the first I had heard of it, but that I would be glad to listen and help if I could. Berwen explained that the creature had somehow gotten into the store and she had managed to barricade it inside an upstairs room. Normally, Master Aryon would have dealt with it, but he was very busy. No one else was willing to risk catching the dread disease, and the stalker’s presence was ruining business, not to mention Berwen’s ability to sleep. I promised to do my best, and made my way up the stairs. Behind a stack of crates was the result of Dagoth Ur’s madness, his desire to create an army. The beast had once been an elf, but was now a monster, shambling back and forth, roaring. With the blessing of my immunity to corprus came the responsibility for dealing with those who had not been so fortunate. It was not a role I cared for, but I could not put it aside, either. The creature haunting Berwen’s storeroom and I were inextricably linked- if not for the manipulation of Azura, it could have been me roaring my mindless fury at the world. I conjured a bound bow and dispatched the poor beast as mercifully as I could. I felt no pride nor thrill in the death- it was simply necessary, and I was the only person who could handle it. As the stalker wheezed its last breath, I said a silent prayer to whatever powers there might be that his soul would find rest, untroubled by the madness of the gods and their creations.

[Channler]

Simply amazing, you give Trey a heart that no one else I think could.. GJ :goodjob:

[minque]

Awww my dear Trey....having to kill that corprus thingy.....and now he´ll be encountering Dratha soon...woah, that might just be an experience for him, we all know what Dratha thinks of men.......

Hmm he will naturally try to persuade her with courtesy and kindness...and what woman would reject Trey at his best??

[jonajosa]

Another great part. Keep it up. :goodjob:

And start editing at the library!

[treydog]

My somber mood served me well when I finally made my way into Dratha’s tower. The first person I encountered in the upper tower was a Redguard warrior named Nanine, who was so friendly that I began to wonder if the stories about Dratha were just an elaborate joke. That notion was quickly dispelled when I reached the top of the tower and met the mistress of Tel Mora herself. Whether she was truly “older than dirt,” as some of the residents had it, I could not say. However, she was certainly one of the oldest Dunmer I had ever seen, and time had not mellowed her. Her legendary dislike of males was clear in the look she gave me- the sort of look one usually reserved for the material one finds on their shoes after crossing a pasture. After several seconds of her glare failed to incinerate me on the spot, she intoned,

“What is this man doing here? Is it lost?”

That was not precisely an invitation to state my case, but I had to try, just the same. Putting on my most humble expression, I said,

“I crave your pardon, Mistress Dratha, but I need to speak with you on a matter of some importance.”

Rather, that was what I started to say. I actually only got as far as, “I crave…” before she raised one imperious eyebrow and said,

“How did this man get in here? Hello? Who's supposed to be on duty? Will someone show the poor thing out? It must be lost. Utterly and completely lost. Body and soul. Lost in the darkness that surpasses understanding. Do I make myself clear, manling?”

Wonderful. And everyone had said that Therana was the one who was supposed to be crazy. Worse than her words was the sincere tone in which Dratha delivered her speech, expressing an absolute belief. Whether she had always hated males or grown into this state over time, I could not say. And it didn’t matter- all that mattered was that I get her to listen to me and convince her to vote for me as Hortator. With that goal firmly in mind, I bowed respectfully, stepped around the corner, and doused myself with the Telvanni Bug Musk I had purchased from Bildren. The stuff was supposed to make even a diseased Ogrim seem attractive; I only hoped it would have some effect on Dratha. Again, I presented myself to the old harridan, only to find that the Bug Musk was at best marginally effective. Perhaps she had worked with magicka for so long that it did not affect her as much as it would a normal person. Although she didn’t throw me out, she still didn’t seem inclined to listen to anything I might say. My usual course, bribery, might not work. And I shuddered to think how she would react to flattery. But one thing I knew- Dratha was Telvanni. And the Telvanni respected power and enjoyed exercising their power over others. I could not possibly hope to impress her with my own power, but perhaps if I groveled before her with sufficient humility…. So I fell to my knees and wailed,

“Oh, great Mistress! I know I an not worthy to clean your shoes, but I crave a moment of your time.”
That melodramatic effort worked well enough to get her to elaborate further on her feelings about males.

“Oh, b'Vek. I think it's a man. It's wearing a man's skin. For now. Listen. Very carefully. There is nothing wrong with males. There's nothing wrong with rats, per se. I just don't like males. Or rats. So I think you'd best be going. While you can.”

That seemed to be progress- although she was still threatening me, she hadn’t actually tried to fry me…yet. So I continued,

“Mistress Dratha, I would speak with you regarding the need to select a Hortator…”

Her muttered, “Oh, bVek, I think it’s a man…” seemed to be the only encouragement I was going to get, so I abased myself still further and said,

“Mistress, you control not only my destiny, but the fate of every creature on Vvardenfell.”

Struck by a sudden inspiration, I continued,

“I have come to you at the command of the goddess Azura. She compels me to seek your aid.”

Her response was nearly enough to send up in flames the carefully constructed humility I had cultivated, but I restrained myself.

“Oh, that's so pathetic. Look at the poor bunny. Oh, I suppose now we must be merciful, and at least listen to it.”

Although that was more or less the reaction I had courted, it was a monumental struggle not to answer the rage that sang in my blood. Only the memory of the corprus stalker and the thought of all the others who would be condemned by my actions stayed my hand. With a shuddering breath, I composed myself and continued, telling the story of my encounters with Azura and the prophecies.

To my everlasting astonishment, Dratha reached down and helped me to stand, patted my arm in a nearly friendly fashion, and said,

“Hmm. Well. I'm glad we listened. And glad you persisted. So there's something to those old prophecies after all. I shouldn't wonder. Pig-headed Battlemages don't pay attention to Lady Azura's portents as they should. And you are the foretold Nerevarine? Well, then. You shall be our Hortator. You have my vote. And my blessing. And this scroll. It will come in handy where you're going.”

The scroll would allow me to summon a Golden Saint and was a princely gift, indeed. It almost made up for all I had been forced to put up with. If Azura’s intent had been to ensure that I learned the virtue of humility, I felt that I was the prize pupil. And I also decided that the goddess had a truly rotten sense of humor.

[Channler]

Heh I'm not sure if that was supposed to come out funny or not (maybe it jsut to late) but I found trey humilating himself like that was hilarious (Forgive my spelling, Im north carolinian )

[Wolfie]

hehe tht was funny. He huiliated himself just to get her vote. I always just bribed her

[Soulseeker3.0]

Great job Treydog!

[Dantrag]

[quote=Channler] Im north carolinian )[/quote]

Wow...me too.

Just caught up on your story treydog...great as ever!!

[jonajosa]

[quote=Channler](Forgive my spelling, Im north carolinian )[/quote]

Are you saying all north carolinians spell bad... Cause thats insulting to me you know.


great next part trey! :goodjob:

[minque]

[quote=jonajosa]

Are you saying all north carolinians spell bad... Cause thats insulting to me you know.
[/quote]

Well even the sun has it´s flares ....

[treydog]

I considered confronting Gothren again after receiving Dratha’s vote- it seemed likely that the Archmagister had counted on her misanthropy to thwart my quest. Between Dratha’s reputation and Gothren’s delaying tactics, I would have enjoyed watching his face as I casually mentioned my accomplishment. In the end, tempting as that notion was, I let it go. After all, there was still one more vote to win, and it was far from a sure thing. If I confronted Gothren too soon, he might bend his considerable power to ensuring that I never even got a chance to speak to Therana. It isn’t prudent to become too much of an annoyance to someone who can summon and control Dremora lords. So instead, I found myself traveling to Tel Branora, at the extreme southern tip of Vvardenfell’s east coast. As I made the long trek, I considered what I had learned about House Telvanni. So far, I had met with four of the councilors, including the Archmagister, and I was not impressed. Of them all, only Aryon commanded my respect- for his pragmatism, if nothing else. But the others…? Beyond living for incredible spans of time in hard to reach towers and keeping dangerous pets, they seemed mostly interested in thwarting each other at every turn. It was as if the accumulation of power had become an end in itself, a way of keeping score, and they no longer even considered how that power might be used. They were like a bunch of children fighting for possession of a single toy in a room that was filled with equally interesting things to play with. They were rude and eccentric and dangerous…and those were their GOOD qualities. It was no wonder that someone like Divayth Fyr chose to go his own way- for all of his arrogance, he at least sought a cure for a disease that was feared throughout Vvardenfell. As for the others, again excepting Aryon, they seemed to be locked into ever tightening spirals of madness. Which meant that meeting Therana was going to be…interesting, given that even the other Telvanni considered her insane.

My arrival in Tel Branora was accompanied by a driving rainstorm, complete with thunder and lightning, and I tried not to think too hard about omens and portents. The entirety of the village was the dock and a couple of shacks on stilts, so I asked the shipmaster for directions. Nireli Farys looked somewhat put upon, but warmed up after I crossed her palm with a few coins. She pointed out the tower itself, which stood to the east, and noted that all the available services were located within. She then named the main inhabitants- Therana, of course; her second-in-command, Darvasa Vedas; and guard captain, Mollimo of Cloudrest. Then, almost as an aside, she mentioned someone named Trerayna Dalen, “Therana’s Telvanni challenger.” When I asked for a further explanation of that last, Nireli would not say any more than that it was Telvanni business and that I would be wise to stay out of it. That suited me perfectly; I had my own business with the Telvanni; whatever they chose to do amongst themselves was of no consequence to me.

As I made my way toward the tower, I noticed a half-dozen people huddled in the lee of a tall boulder, trying their best to stay out of the rain. Their leader was obviously a Dunmer woman in sorcerer’s robes, who was also noticeable due to the fact that the rain drops seemed not to fall upon her. The rest were accoutered in a mix of bonemold and steel armor, and carried themselves with the arrogant grace of mercenaries. As I came closer, the leader called me over with an imperious gesture, saying,

“Outlander. I would speak with you.”

When I cautiously approached, she said,

“I am Trerayna Dalen, of Great House Telvanni. I would advise you to stay out of things that do not concern you. This affair is between myself and Therana. I want no help and I will tolerate no interference.”

The part of me that had gotten into so much trouble over the years longed to respond to her arrogance with sarcasm, but I bit back on answering that what she wanted or tolerated concerned me not at all. Instead, I gave a nod of acknowledgement and continued along the path to the tower. As I approached, I could not help but to shake my head. Why did all of these Telvanni assume that everything that happened in the world was about them? It seemed to me that isolation and the pursuit of power took a toll on their ability to recognize that a great deal of the world was sublimely indifferent to them and their activities. It also made me rather thankful that Azura had intervened to prevent me from achieving my ambition to become “Trey, the crazy old alchemist in the tower.” Although that did not balance the books of what the goddess had done to me, it was a down payment.

Therana’s tower was composed of a thick central spire, with curved branches forming walkways to the various levels. Doors had been cut into the spire at several places, and I began looking for one that would lead to the Upper Tower. Before I could enter, a figure dressed in Dwemer armor and one of those Telvanni helms that looked like a squid was swallowing his head stopped me. He introduced himself as Mollimo of Cloudrest then said,

“Outlander. Would you like to earn some gold? Take care of Trerayna Dalen for me. She's a petty annoyance, but Mistress Therana won't let me leave the tower to take care of her. Don't be fooled by her thugs. The armor is impressive, but there's not much inside it. Kill Trerayna Dalen, and I'll pay you 1000 gold.”

I put the Altmer off for the moment by telling him that I would think about it, and continued into the tower. Although I had become more philosophical about some things, it still annoyed me to be taken for a hired sword. Perhaps my outfit confused people- certainly the Daedric sword I carried was an impressive weapon. Then, my friend Sul-Matuul had told me where I could find some glass greaves to go with my cuirass. And the gods knew I had killed more people than I cared to remember since coming to Vvardenfell. The fact that most of those killings had been self-defense did not ease my conscience all that much, though. The deaths weighed upon me, but I wondered if something in the face that I presented to the world said, “Killer, stay away.” Mollimo was an experienced mercenary- was there something about me that made him think I was in the same profession? Regardless, I had never killed for money. And I never would.

The interior of Tel Branora was disturbing. First, the place seemed to be hot and stuffy, filled with the scent of dried herbs. But underneath the herbs was an odor of something less pleasant, something the should have been buried long ago. The entry hall was “decorated,” that is the only word, with peculiar arrangements of kwama eggs. As I moved deeper inside, I saw more signs of disorder or struggle- overturned bookshelves, their contents strewn across the floor, plates and cups scattered in confusion. Yet the people I met, while not friendly, seemed unconcerned by the chaos, as if the disruption was normalcy. At last, I made my way to the central flyway and found Therana’s chamber. Inside I found a cadaverous-looking Telvanni woman and a Khajiit slave. The chaos of the rest of the tower was repeated here- gem stones were tossed on the floor and a cheery fire was fueled by books. The mad eyes of the Telvanni glared at me and her dust-dry voice croaked,

“What are you here for? Are you here to feed the spiders?”

[treydog]

Spiders? Why did she have to mention spiders? I have admitted before that I have a phobia regarding undead- that, in fact, they scare me. But at least the undead are, or at least were, human. Spiders are alien creatures, with far too many legs and a bad habit of running toward you when they are startled. It had been a great relief to me that I had not encountered any of the giant arachnids that were known to inhabit other provinces of Tamriel. In truth, I had sort of considered the absence of spiders a fair exchange for the lack of horses. But now, Therana was asking me if I had come to feed the spiders…. And that was the sort of question that could have a number of meanings, all of them unpleasant. Realizing that I had been standing there, mouth agape, for some time, I shook myself and replied,

“No, Mistress Therana, I am here on House Telvanni business.”

Her response to that attempt was even less rational than her initial greeting.

“It's a funny sort of house, with all those glowing blue crystals all over it. Did I ever tell you about when I was a little girl? I always liked going to the house. That's where everyone keeps their toys. Are you listening to me? You'd better be. Yes, that's better. No need to do that. I'd offer you something, but I'm all out of kwama eggs.”

In truth, listening to her dry voice as she nattered on about nothing was causing my eyes to glaze over. Therana had no need of powerful spells- she could simply talk an opponent to death. Seeking to get her mind onto a different track, I waved a hand to regain her wandering attention and said firmly,

“Actually, Mistress, I wanted to speak to you about the Telvanni Hortator.”

The look of vacant madness in her eyes was replaced by one of concentrated thought. Almost against my will, I dared to hope that my words had gotten through. Then she spoke.

“It's a steel box, of course. You keep things like bittergreen roots in it, keeps 'em fresh, with a little netch blood. Or is that a hormador? Yes. Or spiders. In the box. Spider eggs. Keeps 'em fresh. With netch blood. You wouldn't have any with you, eh? Spider eggs? Nice fresh ones? So, go ahead. Show me the hordador. Hormador? You got it with you? Always happy to get some fresh spider eggs. Or spiders? When I was a MUCH younger, we grew our own spiders...”

I stifled a groan. She was thinking about a humidor! Maybe if I waited long enough, she would work her way around to the point. It would help if she would stop talking about spiders, though. Truth be told, there was something rather spidery about Therana herself, now that I thought about it. As I pushed that speculation away, I realized she was still droning on:

“...In hormadors. Big ones. Needed 'em big, for the spiders. What? Spiders? You listening? Spiders. That's what I said. Big ones. So you need a big hortator. Ours was steel, with silver plating. Kier-jo used to polish it. Cute little kitty. Had it since it was a bitty kitty. Gone now, of course. Dropped dead. They get old, and you have to get new ones. Never quite as good as the old ones, of course, but what can you do. Oh! There you are, Trey! What was your name again?”

Again, as she droned on, I felt my attention wandering. The overheated, stuffy atmosphere and Therana’s voice were putting me to sleep. A sudden sizzling sound roused me from my stupor and my eyes flew open to see the sorceress glaring madly at me as a partially formed fireball danced on her fingertips.

“Are you listening to me?” she growled.

“Yes, Mistress Therana. Absolutely. Spiders,” I babbled in response.

Clearly, just letting her talk wasn’t going to work. I needed to get her attention, hold it, amuse her sufficiently to listen to me, and then get her focused on naming me Hortator. Simple, really. No harder than juggling bottles of naptha and lit torches while riding a half-trained horse at a full gallop over a cobblestone street. While singing the Cyrodiilic anthem. All 50 verses. In Orcish. Despite my monumental irritation with Azura, I was sorely tempted to call upon the goddess for help. But then I would be indebted to her, and who knew where that might lead? No, I was just going to have to handle this one myself. While I had been musing over my bleak prospects, Therana had managed to put herself to sleep where she stood and her face had assumed a rather child-like quality. If one could imagine a several thousand-year-old, spider-obsessed child, anyway. But that gave me an idea. I had been attempting to deal with the cracked Telvanni as an adult. What I needed to do was approach her as I would a child- granted, a child who could fry me where I stood, but still…. Moving carefully and quietly, I gathered up a half-dozen of the rubies and emeralds that were scattered around the room.

Clearing my throat, I did my best vocal impersonation of a trumpet fanfare and intoned loudly,

“Ladies and gentlemen! Children of all ages! Prepare to be amazed by the prestidigitatory talents of the Great Treyfini!”

That roused Therana, and she looked up with a cut-off snore as I began juggling the gemstones in a shower over my head. Once I was sure I had her full, wide-eyed attention, I began throwing the gems into the air and catching them one at a time. All except the last one. When it didn’t “come down” I began to look around, then reached behind her left ear and “produced” the large emerald. True to my expectations, she was as entranced as a small child.

“Goodness. Where did you learn how to do that? Can you do it again? Oooo! Very pretty! Do it again! Oh, please? Please?”

Next, I placed the gem in her hand and closed the spidery fingers tightly around it, saying, “You, too, can do magic. If you concentrate very hard, rap your fist three times with your other hand, and say the magic words, the gem will vanish. She goggled at me, then said, “What are the magic words? Tell me, tell me!”

I looked around conspiratorially and then said,

“The magic words are, ‘I name Trey Hortator.’”

Her lips moved silently, then she spoke clearly,

“Oh, certainly. I have a hormador around here somewhere, if you'll just.... Oh. You want to be a Hortator? Certainly. Go right ahead. Right after you do that thing again.”

When she opened her fist, the emerald was gone, replaced by a ruby. Her eyes glowed with merriment and she cackled,

“That's amazing! Oh, goody, goody....”

With that, she fell into a deep contemplation of the light sparkling in the depths of the stone and fell asleep. And I quickly left the way I had come. She had said the words, and all that was left was to tell Gothren. I had a feeling that the look on his face was going to be almost as entertaining as my impromptu magic act.

[jonajosa]

That...was...the best part of your story i've every read! I laughed throught the whole thing. Who would have ever thought that jugling would capture Therana's attention. I gotta try that next time....

:goodjob: