The Story of Trey Chapter 10 Options

[milanius]

Well it´s the hardest thing now.....to post a story when big writers such as treydog and Override are posting their professional work.....  

I´m getting more and more......  :paperbag2:

That`s also the feeling I`m getting more and more with my poor Redguard scout... alone, bleeding into the northern sea... and I`m having a god**mn block AND lack of time, all at once :paperbag2:

[Soulseeker3.0]

Well it´s the hardest thing now.....to post a story when big writers such as treydog and Override are posting their professional work.....  

I´m getting more and more......  :paperbag2:

oh minque, really now. remember I've read it already and it's very good as well and you can be proud and post it. nothing to be ashamed of

i haven't read it but i'm sure its good. post it here first, on this board i mean.

OK ...I´ll start posting when I get back from Riga this coming sunday......HERE first so you can chop my head off if it+´s not good enough!

Riga? i couldn't chop your head off, your to nice.

[minque]

The only person doing any kind of chopping at all will be me with my  pickaxe, dismembering my stupid computer when I find out the page with your story on it is going to take another two years to load...

Edit: I hope that makes you feel better  :D

Thank you....hmm it did...you´re so sweet..... :kiss:

[Sinder Velvin]

Well it´s the hardest thing now.....to post a story when big writers such as treydog and Override are posting their professional work.....  

I´m getting more and more......  :paperbag2:

That`s also the feeling I`m getting more and more with my poor Redguard scout... alone, bleeding into the northern sea... and I`m having a god**mn block AND lack of time, all at once :paperbag2:

As if that wasn't enough, if you make any lore mistakes, I'll let you know.

[Warsgoth]

I am so jealous. I wish I could write stories this great. And even if I could, I would never be able to keep with it and make not 1, not 2, but 10+ chapters of the story.

Truly amazing, your work. And especially how your lore is accurate. Sure, there are minor spelling errors here and there, but every great has mistakes. The way you make the story with events in the game make me want to join in and play with you.

Keep up the great work Trey!

:goodjob:

[Elongar]

Treydog + spelling mistakes???????

Funny, I can't see any! :eek: :shocked: :confused:

[Dantrag]

I haven't been reading your story faithfully, I admit, but just having caught up with it all....I love it. It doesn't drone on and on, but keeps the same level of interest (if not more) than when you first started the story. Thanks for sharing a wonderful story Treydog.

[OverrideB1]

You are right of course...but still...... :confused:

Don't, for heaven's sake, let other people put you off posting your story. I. for one, look forward to the first installment with... anticipation. (Sorry, chanelled The Rocky Horror Show there for a moment )

I shall be very sad if you don't post....

[Elongar]

I shall be very sad if you don't post....

Me too. :incrediblysad:

[treydog]

My decision to immediately depart from my new stronghold was not easy. I would have very much preferred to take a few days to get used to the idea of having a place to call home. But I felt that events had taken on an urgency and that I needed to move quickly. Azura had confirmed me as Nerevarine- it seemed likely that Dagoth Ur would also have felt the ripples in the Ether when I grasped the Moon-and-Star ring and survived. It was clear to me now that the ash slaves and the dreams had been attempts by Dagoth Ur to murder or manipulate me to prevent my fulfillment of the prophecy. Now that those efforts had failed, would he not exert his power in some more violent fashion? So it seemed to me. Another reason that I left Bal Isra so quickly was that I tended to believe in the theory that you don’t miss something you have never had. How much harder would it be to leave my home if I got used to the idea of having one? Finally, I was fairly certain that I was not going to live long enough to enjoy the house, anyway. So all those reasons or fears caused me depart in haste. Still, I did in fact, take some time to look around. And thus I discovered a minor irony- another joke of the gods and the world of Morrowind.

When Athyn Sarethi had told me that I must build a stronghold, I had simply accepted that requirement and not inquired further as to what was involved, beyond obtaining a contract and paying the costs. And, even though I vaguely understood that the stronghold was considered an outpost of House Redoran, I did not fully grasp what that meant. Somehow, I didn’t think about the fact that Redoran would see to furnishing the stronghold and supplying the retainers. The reason this matters is that the House provided more than just guards, servants, and household furnishings. They also provided arms and equipment. Arms and equipment, moreover, suitable to someone with the rank of House Father. Recall, if you will, all the effort and terror I went through to obtain a Daedric blade. Now imagine how I felt when I saw an ebony longsword simply lying on a shelf in my bedroom, no doubt supplied from the Redoran Vaults. I had long since realized that the gods had a perverse sense of humor- what surprised me was their attention to detail.

Regardless, it was now time to seek the camp of the Ahemmusa Ashlanders and determine what service I could provide that would convince them to name me Nerevarine. For that would undoubtedly be the way it would work- I would have to trade something for their support- simply showing the Moon-and-Star ring would prove nothing. I used Recall to carry myself back to the Urshilaku camp and set out east along the coast from there. The Ahemmusa camp was located at the northeast corner of the main island of Vvardenfell, just at the edge of the region called the Grazelands. My journey was uneventful, largely because I carefully avoided the Daedric shrines, tombs, and mines that I encountered along the way. The events of the last few months had gone a long way towards curing me of any desire for “adventure for adventure’s sake.” I did come across one reminder of why this area of coast and islands was called the Sheogorath region- named after the mad god. Along a desolate stretch of sand and ash, I came across a slaughterfish completely out of the water. It was alive and moving, but seemed unable to make its way back into the sea. Although the fish are vicious predators, I decided to leave this one as I found it. In fact, given my experiences since I had been unceremoniously dumped here, I gave serious thought to adopting a fish out of water as my heraldic device.

When I reached the Grazelands, it became obvious why the Ashlanders loved this region and preferred their nomadic lifestyle. The gray and brown Ashlands with their thorny plants gave way to rolling green hills and fertile valleys. If all of Vvardenfell had looked like this, the Empire would have had to impose limits on immigration. Despite the wild beauty of the country, the Ahemmusa camp gave evidence that all was not well. A tribe in the Grazelands should have had a decent herd of guar, yet all I saw in the camp was one lonely pack beast. And even that pack-guar did not appear healthy to my unpracticed eye. Though my experience had been with horses and mules, rather than guar, there was something about the way the creature stood and the look in its eyes that reminded me of an ailing equine. Then there was the relative silence of the camp itself. Although a few people were moving about, they seemed to have little purpose and less hope. The sound of the wooden wind chimes was eerily reminiscent of the rattle of dry bones. It was as Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa had said, the Ahemmusa were in danger of dying as a tribe.

As I started to approach the wise woman’s tent, I remembered two bits of information- that the Ahemmusa wise woman was also the ashkhan and that the way to approach an ashkhan was through the gulakhans, or sub-chiefs. It was considered disrespectful to simply walk into the ashkhan’s presence without a suitable introduction. The courtesies must be observed, especially because the Ahemmusa were in serious trouble. Therefore, I made my way to the yurt of Dutadalk and requested permission to enter. In the way that information travels across vast distances, seemingly without the benefit of human speech, he was aware of my quest. I was surprised that the gulakhan did not seem hostile to the idea of an “outlander” as Nerevarine, but realized that it was a measure of the desperation of the tribe. Dutadalk advised me that, when I spoke to Sinnammu Mirpal, I should tell her that I would find the Ahemmusa a place of safety. In a gloomy voice he added,

”That is what I would ask of the Nerevarine.”

The gulakhan would not explain the meaning of his words, saying that it was the place of the ashkhan and wise woman to decide how much I should know of the troubles that plagued the Ahemmusa. He added another cryptic comment, to the effect that I was “not the only outlander seeking to help,” then refused to speak further. He had the look of a man who feared he had already said too much.

As I wondered what could daunt and discourage one of the normally fearless Ashlanders, I stepped out of his yurt and into a mystery. As I turned toward the wise woman’s tent, I saw what must have been a vision, yet it seemed quite real. The vision took the form of a tall, dark-haired woman leaving Sinnammu’s yurt. In itself, that wasn’t unusual; there were many tall Ashlander women, and most of them had dark hair. But this was no Ashlander, nor even a Dunmer- if I wasn’t going blind, she was an Imperial. And what was more, she wore the colors of House Redoran. Determined to find out who this was and what she was about, I made haste to cross the camp. However, before I had gone three steps, I was stopped by an Ahemmusa hunter named Zallit. He was impressed by my armor and weaponry, as well as by the rumors that I was the Nerevarine. As I knew that discourtesy was a mortal insult to the tribes-people, I had no choice but to stop and answer his questions. When I was at last able to turn back to Sinnammu’s tent, the Imperial woman was gone, as if she had never been. Somehow I knew that, phantasm or flesh, she was important. The memory of that slender figure turning away would haunt my dreams for many days.

[Alexander]

greatas always, and like someone on the main forums asked, what's with that person coming out of the tent, hm, intriguing

[General Edor Crespin]

A little offtopic, but for those with writer's block, I've always found that playing Morrowind helps to rekindle my sense of imagination.

[Elongar]

I play the game, make notes whilst playing, and then write it up straight after that when my memory is still fresh.

And another great part there, treydog! :goodjob:

[minque]

Treydog...you´ve done it again...and the mystery you added....intriguing!


also I want to thank you all for those lovely kind encouragements you have given me in this thread....they were fruitful.... :iwubu: :hearts:

[treydog]

Firmly pushing the vision of the Imperial woman to the back of my mind, I stepped up to the wise woman’s tent and asked permission to enter. A strong yet weary voice responded, bidding me welcome. Sinnammu Mirpal had the gray hair and lined face that only very old Dunmer ever achieve. Still, she was straight and tall and bore the leadership of her people proudly. Rather than immediately asking her to name me Nerevarine, I questioned her regarding the hardship that seemed to have come upon the Ahemmusa. She detailed their struggles- the blight storms and blight monsters from Red Mountain, the soul sickness that kept the people from sleep, the resultant loss of the herd and game animals. The Ahemmusa were peaceful- they could not attempt to wrest better lands from the Urshilaku or the Zainab. At the same time, they could not fight the blight monsters. Having explained the plight of her people, she then asked me if I was the outlander who had been named Clanfriend of the Urshilaku and claimed to fulfill the prophecies. I agreed that this was true and that I wished to be named Nerevarine of the Ahemmusa. The wise woman asked me to tell her my story and show her the proof of my claims. She knew the prophecies and would decide. However, even if she believed that I was Nerevar reborn, there would be a price before she would name me Nerevarine of the Ahemmusa. And that price would be to find a safe place for the tribe. It was clear to me that she already had a place in mind and, even more, that I probably wasn’t going to like it. Still, I had expected that I would be required to bargain for her support. And even more- I would not watch these people die out if I could prevent it. I knew about hunger and despair. I knew what it was like to feel helpless, unable to fight back. So I promised to do what I could.

After listening to the story of how I had come to believe I was the Nerevarine and examining the Moon-and-Star ring, Sinnammu pronounced herself satisfied. Then she explained that, in times past, the Ahemmusa had used the ancient shrine of Ald Daedroth as a place of safety. It was large enough to contain the entire tribe and its herds and the walls were still strong. Recently, though, a priestess or witch named Hlireni Indavel had come and reclaimed the shrine for the worship of Sheogorath. So long as she and her followers were there, the Ahemmusa could not use the shrine as a refuge. My task was to remove the threat, then accompany Sinnammu to the inner shrine, where she could ensure that all was safe. If I accomplished this task, she would name me Nerevarine and War Leader of the Ahemmusa. She went on to tell me that the sprawling shrine of Ald Daedroth was located on an island almost due north of the camp. The intervening water, as well as the walls, would provide protection- if the cultists could be “persuaded” to leave. Although I understood the idea of using the sea as a defense, I couldn’t help but wonder how Sinnammu planned to move the entire tribe there, herds and all, without any boats. Still, she seemed confident, so I did not ask any more questions. I did wonder if a side-effect of being Nerevar reincarnated was that I was going to have to clear out every Daedric shrine on Vvardenfell.

Traveling to Ald Daedroth was not difficult- Water Walking had been one of the earliest spells I learned. As I approached the island, though, I heard the sounds of a fight- the roaring of an Orc and what sounded like someone calling upon the Tribunal for aid. Since I wasn’t sure what exactly was happening, I approached carefully, just in time to see a man dressed in the gold and purple of the Temple finish off an Orc warrior. He introduced himself as Drores Arvel, a Temple witch-hunter. He asked me what my purpose was at Ald Daedroth; whether I had come to worship at the shrine or to loot it. I quickly dismissed the idea of telling the truth- that I was there in order to be named the Nerevarine. In the eyes of the Temple, that would be worse than admitting to worshipping Sheogorath. When I indicated that it was my intention to loot the shrine, Arvel sneered and told me that was fine, just to, “Stay out of our way.” He then added that if I happened to kill any of the Daedra worshippers, that would be fine with him. His use of the word “our” indicated that my problem would be more difficult- although I had serious doubts about the Tribunal, I didn’t really want to start filling its priests with arrows. That meant that I would have to make sure of my targets before I attacked, which in turn meant that they would have a chance to injure me. The first two people I encountered in the shrine made things simpler by attacking me on sight. They paid for that error of judgment in a permanent fashion, and I moved on.

The two outer wings of the shrine were scenes of swirling fights between Ordinators and cultists. Magic and weapons wove a fearsome display and I thought that this was no place for a self-respecting thief. Mostly, I just stayed out of the way- the Ordinators didn’t really seem to need my help. Besides, all it would take would be an ill-considered sword stroke or badly aimed arrow to turn the Temple soldiers into my deadly enemies. When I entered the antechamber, I discovered that there was more to fear than just the wrath of the Ordinators. In fact, the only Ordinator I saw there was long past caring about anything. Almost before I could consider what that meant, three powerful Daedra-worshippers attacked me from all sides. If that wasn’t bad enough, someone nearby was also summoning Golden Saints. Needless to say, those Daedra were NOT on my side in the ensuing fight. I was also treated to a firsthand display of just why ebony weapons were almost as highly prized as Daedric- one of the cultists used an ebony spear to great effect upon me. As I backed up and tried to defend myself from three and sometimes four attackers, I missed my shield. The dai katana was a wonderful offensive weapon, and one that could also be used to defend. The problem was, it could really only be used to occupy one opponent at a time. With a shield, I could have protected my left side while menacing the opponents to my front and right. Still, I was able to get into a corner and use some healing potions. From there I methodically defeated my attackers. Following that near-death experience, I resolved to make use of my stealth and to shoot full of arrows anyone not wearing Temple garb.

As I made my to the inner shrine, I put that resolution into practice and was thus able to defeat Hlireni Indavel without taking any further harm. If I felt any twinge of remorse about striking her down from the shadows, it was far outweighed by very real pain from the wounds her followers had inflicted upon me. Besides, I did what I did as a matter of survival- my own and that of the Ahemmusa. And Ald Daedroth was no field of honor, with pennants and challenges and codes of conduct for killing each other in a “civilized” fashion. This wasn’t about honor, or even about right and wrong. It was about life and death. And I had made up my mind that I was going to live.

[Soulseeker3.0]

great Treydog!

[Alexander]

yes I agree with soulseeker here, another great addition again here

[minque]

well guys..what did you expect? Something less than perfect???? no way that´s gonna happen....

[treydog]

Carefully, I entered the room to make sure Hlireni was really dead- you can never be completely certain with Daedra priestesses, particularly when you are on their home ground. In this case, I had no need to worry- my arrows had transfixed her- one in the head and one in the heart, assuming she had one. The other occupants of the room, an Orc and a scamp, didn’t seem terribly concerned about the demise of their leader. The scamp merely offered to sell me some sujamma and the Orc rumbled, “Meow.” I shook my head. “Meow?” An Orc that said, “meow?” Perhaps I had taken a few more blows to the head than I realized. That was one disadvantage of my phobia about helmets. While a helmet might restrict hearing and sight, it also served the useful function of keeping one’s brains from getting scrambled. After feeling around to make sure I didn’t have any depressed skull fractures or new bumps on my head, I turned to the Orc and said,

“Excuse me, but did you just say ‘Meow’?”

Rather than becoming offended the 6-and-half foot tall green creature replied with a sort of low growl that might have approximated a purr- in a nightmare- and introduced himself as “Ra’Gruzgob the Khajiit.” Clearly, one of us was crazy, and I was beginning to have a glimmer of an idea which it was.

“Ra’Gruzgob the Khajiit?” I repeated, trying to keep the disbelief from my voice.

“Yes, Khajiit. How do you like my tail?”

Now that is one of those questions I have never known how to answer, particularly not when it is asked by another male of whatever species. Not that I have been asked that question very often, mind you. In fact, that was the only time. Finally, I decided that it never hurts to humor a crazy Orc, and anyway, if things got out of hand, I still had my sword.

“Fine. Very… nice.” I mumbled, carefully not catching the eye of the smirking scamp. A part of me wondered why I was doing this- after all, Ra’Gruzgob was almost certainly a Daedra-worshipper, whether he was crazy or not. But my curiosity has gotten in the way of my better judgment before, and it was hard to seriously contemplate cutting down an Orc that simply stood there “purring” and stroking non-existent whiskers. Apparently, my half-hearted compliment was successful, as the Orc offered to tell me a “little secret,” provided I gave him some moon-sugar. Now it became clear- this fellow wasn’t simply addled by the influence of the Mad God, he had been receiving a little chemical help. Noticing some crystals of the addictive substance atop a nearby stone block, I palmed them and offered them to Ra’Gruzgob. His “purring” redoubled in strength and seemed to shake the very stones of Ald Daedroth. He thanked me and then said that he had hidden “something special” under his pillow “for the sugar-fairy.” I almost didn’t want to think about what kind of “something special” an Orc might hide under his pillow- particularly an Orc that thought he was a Khajiit. Back when I had lived in the stable, I had been the recipient of the sort of “gift” the barn cats thought appropriate and endearing. Even though my bed had been an old horse blanket over a pile of straw, finding part of a mouse in it was not pleasant. Nevertheless, it seemed worth checking out, so I made my way over to a couple of pallets that had been set up in one corner of the chamber. Using the tip of my blade, I shifted the first pillow and found- nothing. Steeling myself, I turned to the other pallet, shifted the pillow, and saw an extravagantly embroidered glove, which glowed with enchantment. The power of the spell on the item fairly sang, and I knew that I was in the presence of a very special artifact. Careful not to touch the glove, I bent closer to read the Aldmeris script which was formed by the stitching. As near as I could determine, it spelled out “Gambolpuddy.” Wondering if sleeping with this item under his head had anything to do with Ra’Gruzgob’s delusions, I extended my magical senses to try to “read” the enchantment. My original feeling that the spell was powerful proved to be correct. The wearer could cast a spell that would provide major enhancements of agility, intelligence, personality, and luck. However, at the same time the spell would lower strength, speed, wisdom, and endurance. I was hard-pressed to think of a circumstance in which that exchange would be worthwhile, but I nevertheless packed the glove away. After all, it was likely a unique item, and might be valuable as a curiosity.

And now there seemed nothing else to do but report back to Sinnammu Mirpal. Leaving the Orc crooning “sweet moon-sugar” and batting at a ball of yarn, I worked my way back outside, passing the glowering Ordinators without a word. Considering the way the Ashlanders felt about the Temple, I wondered if the Ahemmusa wise woman would feel that the shrine was safe with the Temple soldiers wandering around. On the other hand, with Hlireni and her followers dead, maybe the Ordinators would go somewhere else to bother people. Back in the camp, Sinnammu listened as I explained that the sorceress was dead. She then stated that I must escort her to the great statue of the inner shrine. If we could get there without being attacked, that would show her that Ald Daedroth was safe enough for her people. I needn’t have worried about the wise woman’s ability to reach the island- she water-walked as well as I. We made our way to the inner shrine, where Sinnammu agreed that I had fulfilled my part of our bargain. Then she drew an amulet out from her pack and formally intoned,

“And so I name you Ahemmusa Nerevarine, War Leader of the Ahemmusa, and Protector of the People. I also give you the Madstone of the Ahemmusa, which shall be a sign to all Dunmer, that you are the Nerevarine, and that the Ahemmusa shall follow you, in all things, even unto death, until the Enemy is defeated, or until you are dead.”

With that she handed me the amulet and explained that it was useful against spell casters, for if I could invoke its power and touch a wizard, it would set up the echoing of the voices of the ancestors inside his head, making it impossible to concentrate on magicka. Unfortunately, the voices would also echo in MY head, thus explaining why the amulet was called the “madstone.” I thanked the Ahemmusa wise woman and took my leave of her. All my recent encounters with madness caused me to wonder- was there some hidden message in all this? Perhaps I myself had gone mad from the effects of corprus and was even now shuffling around in the corprusarium of Tel Fyr, imagining all of this. That seemed as plausible as the idea that I was the reincarnation of a Dunmer general.

[Soulseeker3.0]

good job Treydog. I didn't know how she would react to the high ordinaters. i always kill every one at the shrine.