The Story of Trey- Chapter 13 Options

[Fuzzy Knight]

Wow... damn this was good Trey, I really enjoy your story.. keep posting! :goodjob:

[Lucidarius]

I have finally read your story - so far.

It is really amazing how much work and talent you have put into the story. I especially like the humour, the constant observation of Trey's thoughts and beliefs and thereby the chance to follow his reasoning regarding his decisions. The aforementioned all portray your character in a vivid way that make the reader feel "included".

I look very much forward to reading the next chapters.

[minque]

I just discovered I haven´t commented on this part of your story...now then you know how much I like it so that´s no news....

I particularly enjoy Trey´s ability of thinking carefully about every step, considering the options and what consequences will appear when choosing between them...

Ahh let´s hope he´ll be ok now....facing the great evil


May i offer you some jonajosas? :goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob:

[treydog]

I had anticipated treachery from Dagoth Odros; I had simply not been vigilant enough. The first indication I received was when the Flame Atronach struck me from behind. As soon as I turned to deal with that threat, the ash vampire raked his claws down my back. I was fortunately able to dispatch the atronach quickly, which allowed me to get my shield into play against Odros. For a time, defending was the most I could do, as the ash vampire’s tough hide turned even my ebony sword. It quickly became apparent to me that trying to fight him this way would lead to my defeat. His claws shredded my armor and my flesh, while I seemed able to do only small damage in return. He was stronger, but I was faster, and I used that speed to my advantage. Dodging around and between the pillars in the room gave me time to imbibe a healing potion and to summon a Daedric longbow. My plan was to keep out of reach, all the while piercing him with arrows. I hoped that the magicka imparted by the bow as well as my ability to target more carefully would prove effective. That tactic confused Odros; again it seemed that the creatures of the Sixth House were more prepared for direct attacks, such as those launched by the Temple or the Great Houses. I, on the other hand, had only one goal in mind- winning. Whether my victory would be considered tainted in the eyes of some puffed-up knight meant nothing to me- let some other fool “die nobly;” I intended to live. So it was that I found myself racing through Odrosal, stopping long enough to loose a couple of arrows, only to run again. Odros’ silent, mindless pursuit was almost more frightening than the roaring charge of an Ogrim; it was alien, another sign of a mind that was no longer human. Whatever consciousness controlled the ash vampire, it was not that of the Chimer he had once been. When at last he fell, I was able to take from the corpse his Sixth House amulet, as well as the Amulet of Heart Fire. However, what he did not have was the sword, Keening.

A search of the now empty citadel at last revealed a trapdoor in the ceiling of one chamber; I clambered up the ladder and turned the latch. I have always hated those ceiling doors; I fear that someone with a hammer is waiting for me to poke my head through like a curious and not-too-bright ground squirrel. Fortunately, no one was playing “whack-a-Breton” in Odrosal that day, and I was able to hoist myself into the tower without incident. Whatever its original purpose, the room was now an elaborate Sixth House shrine, complete with ash statues and a sacrificial pit. And in the center of that pit stood a short-sword, point down, glowing with unmistakable magicka. Even before I touched it, I heard it set up a counter-point to Sunder’s incessant murmuring. Every instinct I possessed warned me that this must be a trap; that it could not be so easy as just grasping the sword. But my will was no match for the pull of the sword as I was dragged closer. As I grasped the hilt, I realized that no other trap was needed- Keening itself was the trap. And I had fallen into it and was irrevocably lost.

If the hammer’s assault on my brain had been intense, the combined power of Sunder and Keening was unbearable. Their voices set up a resonance that drove every other thought from my head, leaving only the compulsion to wield them, to go to the Heart chamber and become a creature of the Heart of Lorkhan. I fell to my knees, unable to resist the potential that was in my possession. When it seemed as if I had no choice but to succumb, a different voice broke through the chorus of Kagrenac’s profane Tools. This voice also had power, but of a different sort. Without words, it was as pure as the morning sun on a spring day, as clean as the moon reflected from the surface of the sea. It did not promise, did not command, did not threaten. Instead, it simply…was. And it created a still, calm space where I too, could exist in peace. This was a display of true power, of strength without end, a promise that tomorrow would always come, if only I believed. With a vigor I had not felt in many months, I regained my feet. Sunder and Keening still murmured in the back of my mind, but it was nothing, a mere whisper, transient and with no power to move or change me. I wrapped the sword with the hammer and prepared myself for what was to come.

Mind and will once again my own, I paused in the silence of Odrosal to review the plans Vivec had developed for fighting Dagoth Ur and gaining access to the Heart. One idea was to weaken the defenses of the Sixth House by attacking the citadels and the seven ash vampire kin of Dagoth Ur. Even though they apparently could not be killed, they could be dispelled for a time and would be unable to assist in the defense of the Heart. Of the seven, I had already removed three- Uthol, Vemyn, and Odros. If I followed the plan, I should go to the citadel called Tureynulal next. But I questioned the value of that slow nibbling around the edges. The three ash vampires I had bested had either possessed the Tools or else stood directly in my path- confronting them had been necessary. Now that I controlled all of Kagrenac’s Tools, it was time to strike. The longer I delayed, the more time Dagoth Ur would have to prepare. If this had been a battle of great armies, a campaign of attrition to weaken the Sixth House might have made sense, but I was a lone man. Every time I fought, I risked serious injury or death, not to mention the loss of the Tools. While my death might be only a temporary setback for Azura or Vivec, it would be rather more permanent for me. No, my stealthy spirit told me that this called for a lightning stroke out of the darkness, not a slow wearing away. Dagoth Ur was probably off balance right now, still trying to decide what the disappearances of Vemyn and Odros meant. As a former general, he would expect an opponent to consolidate his gains and take some time to plan. Better to attack before the insidious blandishments of Sunder and Keening weakened my resolve. If I appeared suddenly, bearing Kagrenac’s Tools, Dagoth Ur would probably believe that I had come to challenge him. That was how his mind would work- I had defeated his lieutenants; now I was ready to attempt to wrest control of the Heart from him. If he continued to believe that, if I could keep him from divining my true purpose- then I might succeed.

[Wolfie]

cool update, and i'm gonna post an update of my own now too

[Dantrag]

cool addition Trey!

[Mazuk]

I don't remember reading and of it before but I have now. That is some awesome writing. "Wishes he could write like that". Keep it up and will be now looking for updates.

[minque]

Oh an update! now we´re closing in rapidly....

[quote=treydog] Fortunately, no one was playing “whack-a-Breton” in Odrosal that day,[/quote]

now this made me laugh out loud...sheer joy!

[Zelda_Zealot]

[quote=minque]Oh an update! now we´re closing in rapidly....

[quote=treydog] Fortunately, no one was playing “whack-a-Breton” in Odrosal that day,[/quote]

now this made me laugh out loud...sheer joy![/quote]

Same here, I can see it now... "Step right up! Dont be shy! Come and whack...A...BRETON!" :rofl: Great as always Treydog. :goodjob:

[treydog]

My map indicated that the main Dwemer facility, the place where Dagoth Ur was to be found, was to the northwest of Odrosal, in the very crater of Red Mountain. A potion of levitation allowed me to negotiate the vertical slope, even though I was less than happy to have to go closer to the blood-red sky. As I crested the ridge, I beheld the most extensive Dwemer ruin I had ever seen. Somewhere within that collection of towers and halls was Dagoth Ur. And the Heart of Lorkhan. This was the place where it had begun, where Kagrenac had forged the tools that caused the disappearance of the Dwemer, where Dagoth Ur and the Tribunes had used those same tools to make themselves immortal. It was here that Nerevar had been murdered, but I felt no compulsion for revenge. Whatever the prophecies and portents said, I was not the reincarnation of that long-dead Chimer general. I was simply a man, a man who had been manipulated and used beyond all endurance, until I found myself with no other choice but to go on. The heat that radiated from the crater was equal to the incandescent rage that fueled me. Perhaps this was my destiny, but I saw too many indications of Azura’s meddling to believe in such a fairy tale. But that didn’t matter. None of the “whys” or “hows” mattered anymore. All that mattered was that I was here, now, bearing Kagrenac’s Tools and my sword. My promise had been given to Sul-Matuul, to Nibani, to Athyn, to all the people of Morrowind. So I embraced the heat of the molten rock that reflected the fury that burned at my core, and I floated over the fiery pit to the doorway that would take me on my final journey to victory or death.

But once I reached the door itself, I was momentarily puzzled- the two great, curved sheets of metal that formed the entry were closed, and there seemed to be no lever or other mechanism to cause them to part. Then I remembered the first Dwemer ruin I had ever entered, seemingly a lifetime ago- Arknghthand, near Balmora. There, access had been gained by turning a crank on a vertical post near the entry; perhaps the same method was used here. A brief search allowed me to locate the crank and the leaves of the door opened with a hiss of steam and a rumble of metal on metal. As I made my way into the first hallway, a voice sounded inside my head. It was impossibly deep and powerful, filled with promise and command. It was the voice of Dagoth Ur.

“Come, Nerevar. Friend or traitor, come. Come and look upon the Heart. And Akulakhan. And bring Wraithguard. I have need of it.”

So the would-be god who had spent the last several years trying to kill me was suddenly conciliatory, now that I had showed up on his doorstep. I trusted that friendliness no more than I would the smile of an alit, but his need for Wraithguard was certainly sincere. He had controlled the other Tools since the Tribunes had been careless enough to lose them, but Wraithguard was necessary for him to complete his mad scheme to animate the metal god he called Akulakhan. So Dagoth Ur pretended to “welcome” me and bade me hasten to his side like a good little servant? I would come to him, bearing Wraithguard, but I had a surprise for him, as well, something sharp and pointed.

Apparently the ash zombie lurking in the stairwell hadn’t gotten the message that I was an honored guest, for it attacked me as I rounded the corner. The mindless creature’s club was no match for my ebony sword, but the attack was a reminder that I needed to be stealthy. Therefore, I opened the door at the foot of the stairs with great caution, which had no effect on the voice that again echoed in my head.

“Come to the Heart Chamber. I wait for you there, where we last met, countless ages ago.”

Disregarding the compulsion of Dagoth Ur’s voice, I made a careful search of the room, finding only the body of a dead adventurer. His light staff had guided him to nothing more than a lonely death in a dark and horrible place. He must have been incredibly brave, or foolish, or desperate to have come here- perhaps all three. The citadel Dagoth Ur was no place for the sane or the living. My sanity or lack of it was open to question- my life I would do my best to keep. Several ascended sleepers, including one whose amulet named him Dagoth Vaner, tried their best to assist me into the next world, but I stubbornly resisted their attempts and pressed on. Almost as though he was following my progress, Dagoth Ur spoke again,

“Come to me through fire and war. I welcome you.”

An ash ghoul named Dagoth Ienas welcomed me in a more physical fashion; I fear my response to his attempt to embrace me was rather rude. Still, when I left him, he made no complaint, so perhaps he was satisfied. And as I stalked through those haunted corridors, that smooth, taunting voice continued its promises:

“Welcome, Moon-and-Star. I have prepared a place for you.”

“Come. Bring Wraithguard to the Heart Chamber. Together let us free the cursed false gods.”

He certainly knew how to tempt me, knew that I held no love for the Tribunal. But it did not necessarily follow that I must therefore love and trust him, either. I had seen his handiwork, the ash ghouls and ascended sleepers that had once been human. How I longed to find the owner of that voice and silence it forever. So I pressed onward, fighting the ascended sleepers that swarmed thick as flies around a corpse, making my way deeper into the dark recesses of the citadel.

Because I did not know where to find the Heart Chamber, I had to search every room and hall, open every door. Even when I found another of those ladder and trapdoor arrangements, with markings that named it the Inner Tower, I had to find out what lay on the other side. This time my fear of the trapdoors was justified; Dagoth Irvyn was waiting for me. Fortunately, like most of the ascended sleepers, he preferred to begin with a magical attack instead of a physical one. Although the magical fire that washed over me hurt, it was not fatal. Better still, the pause as he prepared his next blast of magicka gave me an opportunity to leap and roll into the room. As soon as I had stopped, I jumped up and drew my sword. Dagoth Iryvn conjured a cloud of green mist around me, a poisonous vapor that set my nerves on fire. Pausing only long enough to swallow an antidote, I closed with the monster. As he began another spell, I punched him off balance with my shield, and followed with several sword-thrusts to the body. Though he was mortally wounded, he managed to buffet me with his flipper-like hands and also to lash me with his tentacles. Although I normally preferred to strike at a distance, I reveled in this close-quarters fight. Here I had a tangible target for my anger and resentment. Even more, I felt no remorse at exterminating one of Dagoth Ur’s minions, one who had no doubt willingly given himself over to corprus. In the end, the satisfaction of collecting another Sixth House amulet was the most I got from the fight- the chamber was otherwise empty, save for the corpse of a buoyant armiger. On the back of his shield was etched the name, Voruse Bethrimo, and beside the body was an elaborately engraved staff, which glowed with magicka. I deciphered the script and determined that this was the fabled Crozier of St. Llothis, a Temple artifact of great antiquity. Perhaps Voruse had trusted that the power of the staff and his own courage would lead him to victory over Dagoth Ur. Unfortunately, courage was not enough, and he had paid the price for the Tribunal’s deceit. How many others had Vivec sent to their deaths with the false belief that they could stop the Sixth House? Nevertheless, I vowed that, if I lived, I would report where Voruse had fallen, and that he had died with honor. It was the least I could do for a brave man who had carried on the fight against impossible odds.

Back in the Inner Facility, I found steps leading downward, and Dagoth Ur spoke yet again:

“Welcome, Nerevar. Together we shall speak for the Law and the Land, and drive the mongrel dogs of the Empire from Morrowind.”

That attempt at persuasion fell even flatter than the others. After all, what was I but a “mongrel dog of the Empire,” with my Breton mother and Cyrodiilic father? Dagoth Ur was going to be quite surprised when finally we met face-to-face. Entering the Lower Facility, I was confronted by an ash ghoul, who struck with fire and claws. As I struggled with him, I thought I glimpsed a figure in a distant corridor, someone who did not attempt to join the fight, but simply watched. But when Dagoth Muthes fell before my blade, whoever or whatever I had seen was gone, so I moved forward. I could sense that I was getting closer; it almost seemed that I could feel the pulsing of the Heart beneath my feet. In my eagerness to end this madness, I was not as cautious as I should have been, and walked right into an ambush by Dagoth Gilvoth, one of the remaining ash vampires. He had been the lurking presence I had glimpsed earlier; patient as a spider he had waited in the shadows for me to blunder into his reach. Fortunately, he preferred to hurl magical attacks at me rather than to close to striking distance. As blast after blast of eldritch lightning and fire burst around me, I conjured a longbow and proceeded to trade him arrows for spells. So powerful was the summoned bow that the impacts of the arrows staggered him, causing many of his spells to dissipate harmlessly. At last, an arrow guided more by fortune than by design transfixed his neck, and he fell to the floor and did not rise again. Besides a Sixth House amulet, he carried something called the “Blood Ring,” which I surmised was his link to the Heart. As I picked up the ring, Dagoth Ur’s mocking voice shivered the air,

“Is this how you honor the Sixth House and the tribe unmourned? Come to me openly, and not by stealth.”

As to that, I could not think of a better way to “honor” the traitorous, corrupt, and utterly foul Sixth House than to collect their amulets and their heads. And I didn’t think that the trail of dead creatures I had left in my wake could be construed as “stealthy.” In an obscure way, that made me feel better, for it meant that Dagoth Ur was not really watching me. No doubt he sensed that I was inside the citadel and coming closer, but his sense was imprecise. He was simply throwing out these taunts to try to goad me into a mistake. As I promised myself that I would be careful, I came upon yet another dead adventurer. Judging by his netch leather armor and tools, he must have been a thief. He was also carrying one the cursed ash statues that had been used against House Redoran. I wondered if he had taken it from within the citadel or if its vile influence had drawn him here with promises of treasure beyond imagining. He must have been a master thief to have penetrated so far into the citadel, but it had been all for nothing- just a lonely end in a terrible place. Perhaps that was all an “adventure” really was- the desire for wealth or acclaim, interspersed with moments of terror and punctuated by death.

One wall of the final chamber had been breached by some means I could not imagine and a wooden door was hung crookedly in the opening. My instincts screamed a warning that I was close and Kagrenac’s Tools redoubled their whispering. With a convulsive effort, I pushed open the door. And there in a cavern deep under Red Mountain, a place of smoke and flame, I finally beheld my enemy. He was the gold-masked figure from the dreams that had troubled me when I first set foot on this path. Despite the mask, I could see how his long communion with the Heart had changed him. Him skin was the ashen color of the Dunmer, yet it seemed somehow dull. His hands had become deformed, turned into claws like those of his ash vampire kin. Overall, there was something almost reptilian about the tall figure before me- as if a lizard had grown to monstrous size and learned to walk on its hind legs. When he saw me, the great demon threw back his masked head and laughed, saying:

“Welcome, Moon-and-Star, to this place where destiny is made.”

[Dantrag]

cool addition...I still have yet to read it, just wanted to be the first to post

Now I have read it, and I'm disappointed...Trey's journey is almost over. (unless you go into the expansions *hint hint* )

[Wolfie]

Awesome, can't wait for the next update

[Fuzzy Knight]

Ooho.. Great Trey, guess the very best is still to come, and have to agree with Dantrag - Expansions

:goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob:

[Channler]

Thank you much trey dog... I never finished the MQ so I finally figured out what (sorta) happend :goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob:

[jonajosa]

Great new addition. But will the story continue after the MQ is done? Will Trey stay and finish up the rest of the Faction quests? We'll find out soon enough... hopefully.

:goodjob:

[treydog]

At last I stood before Dagoth Ur, my sword in hand. This was the confrontation that had been fated long before I had ever heard of Vvardenfell, before I had even been born. And in that moment, my certainty deserted me. I knew that he was my enemy; that he was an insane, corrupting influence for all of Morrowind; but I was unsure what to do now that I faced him. Perhaps an Armiger or Ordinator would have attacked on sight, secure in their faith and belief in the Tribunal. But I couldn’t do that. Whether it was my peculiar sense of honor or my poor, stunted conscience, I don’t know- but something prevented me from simply striking without warning. Or perhaps it was the fact that Dagoth Ur had been there at the beginning of the events that led to this moment; that our fates were intertwined. I felt that I should speak to him, if for no other reason than to hear what he had to say about all this. Perilous though the conversation might be, it seemed only right. After all, I had heard Vivec’s story and those told by the Dissident Priests and the Ashlanders. Now I could hear from someone else who had been there. So I cleared my throat and asked,

“What happens now?”

Dagoth Ur turned his impassive mask to regard me and said,

“It began here. It will end here. Have you any parting words? Or would you prefer to skip the speeches, and get to our business? You are the challenger here, after all. So to you goes the courtesy of the first blow.”

I had always preferred trying to talk my way out of trouble- this time was no exception. So I responded,

“Why must they be ‘parting words’? After all, I just got here.”

It was impossible to tell what expression the face behind the mask wore, but his words and tone were regretful.

“Now that you have come to me here, there can be but one result. Many times I have considered offering to share this place with you. I considered offering to accept your oath of service. You might try to buy my trust by giving me Wraithguard, Keening, and Sunder. I thought we might once again be friends... comrades... brothers in arms.”

Then he shook his head and added,

“But I have won this place and power by right of conquest. By right of daring and enterprise. I will not risk it to cunning and deceit. I offer you no deals. If you are my enemy, I cannot trust you. And even if you are not my enemy, I cannot let you live. It will all be decided here. I believe I will prevail. But I cannot be sure, and I am vain enough that, should I fall, I would wish to be remembered in my own words. So, if you have final questions you would ask, ask them now. I have final questions I would ask you, if you would answer.”

That seemed fair; besides, if we were talking, we wouldn’t be trying to kill each other. Therefore I said,

“I will answer your questions, if I can.”

Dagoth Ur squared his shoulders and asked,

“My first question is: Are you really Nerevar reborn?”

That was an interesting question, one that I had pondered quite often. Nothing I had experienced had convinced me that I was, in truth, Nerevar. Considering how many other voices had taken up residence in my head from time to time, the Chimer general had been a remarkably quiet guest, if he was there at all. Because it seemed to me that there had been deceit enough from the beginning of this affair, I would not add more lies to those already told, so I spoke as truthfully as I could,

“I am my own man, beholden to neither gods nor Emperor. I am an adventurer who would decide his own fate.”

That answer seemed to please him, although his response was not terribly comforting,

“You are bold. I honor your independence. You are one to teach the gods their limits. I hope the bards will praise the glory of your death in song.”

He then said,

“My second question is: if you win, what do you plan to do with the power from the Heart? Will you make yourself a god, and establish a thearchy? Or will you complete Akulakhan, and dispute control of Tamriel with the Septims? Or will you share the Heart with your followers, as I have, and breed a new race of divine immortals?”

Here was dangerous ground. I could tell him what he probably expected to hear- that I would make myself into a god, or that I would challenge the Empire. But I still refused to lie, saying instead,

“I have my own, secret plan for the Heart.” That was true, yet did not reveal that my plan was to destroy the malign source of his power. Even better, that answer satisfied him, for he said,

“Well. Perhaps there may be surprises in store for me yet. Or perhaps you obscure your plans on principle. Or perhaps you are an instinctive bluffer. No matter. My final question is: if I had offered to let you join me, would you have surrendered Wraithguard, Sunder, and Keening to me to seal your oath?”

This time, the truth was easy- “No, I would never join you.” Surprisingly, he remained gracious,

“Thank you for your forthright response. And now, if you have any questions, ask them. Otherwise, you are the challenger. I await your first blow.”

Wishing to delay the inevitable and also to find out more, I questioned him regarding his intentions for the Heart, the Dunmer, and Akulakhan. His answers proved not only his madness, but also the necessity of stopping him. He believed that corprus was the “touch of divinity,” and planned to spread it across all of Tamriel. With the transformed Dunmer and the animated giant called Akulakhan, he would carry conquest and disease throughout the world. Hoping to awaken some spark of the person he had once been, I asked him how he could justify the crimes he had committed in his pursuit of power. His answer boiled down to “the ends justify the means”- he was right; therefore whatever happened was not only necessary but just. In that moment I silently thanked whatever power or chance it was that had given me the ability to doubt myself. In Dagoth Ur, I faced the opposite, and his absolute certainty was the most frightening thing about him.

Unable to delay any longer, I admitted that I had no more questions, and he again offered me the opportunity to strike first. Yet even as I readied my sword, he proved himself to be a liar and a cheat. He sent forth a spell that instantly damaged my health as well as most of my abilities. As the fiery magical energy blossomed around me, my muscles weakened and my reflexes slowed. Furious at this latest example of his treachery, I thrust straight for his chest, for the place where he would have kept his heart if he had one. Making no attempt to dodge or block, Dagoth Ur countered with a backhanded blow that sent me to my knees. I gathered my wits and slashed furiously at his throat and unprotected chest, feeling the blade bite deep with every blow. A part of me thought, “This is too easy- surely he should be defending himself.” Then, between one sword-thrust and the next, he simply…vanished. I spun through a circle, expecting that he would appear behind me, but the chamber was empty. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed movement and realized that the Dwemer doors to one side of the cavern were now open. As I made my cautious way toward them, a glittering object on the threshold caught my eye. It was a ring, with an inscription that named it the Heart Ring. Highly magical, it would provide the wearer resistance to a number of forms of magical damage, or even dispel malicious magical effects. While it was a fabulous artifact, I had it in mind to use a somewhat more mundane item that I had been saving. Before opening the door, I unwrapped Sunder and Keening, knowing that I would need them ready to hand. So long as Lorkhan’s Heart survived, Dagoth Ur could not be defeated. Reminding myself that I must concentrate on the Heart, I pushed through the door into the chamber where Dagoth Ur waited.

When he saw me, his voice had become cold and sneering as he dropped all pretense of reason.

“What a fool you are! I am a god! How can you kill a god? What a grand and intoxicating innocence. How could you be so naïve? There is no escape. No Recall or Intervention spell will work in this place. Come. Lay down your weapons. It is not too late for my mercy.”

But now I knew the quality of his mercy, knew that it was a sham and a lie. Behind him loomed Akulakhan, the great Dwemer construct that he wished to turn into a god, a vessel to spread disease throughout Tamriel. It was huge beyond imagining, standing a hundred feet tall or more. And I could feel the presence of the Heart, feel the pulsing of its corrupting power. Sunder and Keening began to vibrate in resonance to the call of the Heart. True to his nature, even as he called on me to surrender, Dagoth Ur hurled his damaging spells at me. Through the pain, through the anger, through the fear, I held firm to my purpose- destroy the Heart. I knew I could not fight Dagoth Ur and attack the Heart at the same time, so I would need some help. With that in mind, I had readied the scroll that Dratha had given me so long ago, the scroll that would allow me to summon a Golden Saint to fight for me. While I had no hope that she would prevail, the Daedric creature would at least occupy my enemy while I attended to the Heart. I intoned the words and was gratified to see the creature materialize in front of me. Drawn by the Heart as if it were a lodestone, I rushed to the lip of the fiery pit that contained Akulakhan. Some forty feet below, I could see the Heart, held by a metal framework inside the construct itself. A wooden footbridge stretching from the lower ledge gave access to the Heart. I eyed the drop and said a prayer to any powers that might be listening, then launched myself from the ledge, hoping to land on the bridge.

Though I seemed to be rushing toward the lava at an incredible speed, I still had time to call myself several kinds of a fool on the way down. Then the bridge knocked the wind from my lungs and the thoughts from my head. One thing I hadn’t counted on- the wooden slats of the bridge were suspended by ropes- ropes that had some elasticity to them. The result of my dive was that, when I hit the bridge, I bounced. A desperate grab secured a hold on the edge of a board and I heaved myself back onto the deck. In the time it took to regain my breath, I paused to be grateful that I had never taken to wearing heavy armor- a set of Imperial plate probably would have punched me right through the wood. Nothing important seemed to be broken; better still, the grunts and blows from above meant that my summoning was still occupying Dagoth Ur. Gasping for breath, I limped across to the Heart of Lorkhan. Once there, I did not wait to examine the object that had been the cause of so much suffering. Instead, I grasped Sunder in both hands and smashed it down onto the glittering red stone. When the hammer struck home, Dagoth Ur grunted in pain. But I ignored him as I dropped Sunder and grasped Keening. With the first blow of the sword, Dagoth Ur shouted,

“What are you doing?”

Upon the second, he leaped down to confront me, screaming, “You fool! No!”

Still I ignored him and kept swinging. At the fifth blow, the Heart of Lorkhan crumbled to dust and vanished.

Dagoth Ur flailed at me in a horrified frenzy. Though his blows lacked coordination, they were still powerful. Throwing Keening to the ground, I drew my own ebony blade and began to drive the mad creature back. His spells seemed to have deserted him, and I blocked his clawing swings with my shield. Gone was his laughter, his taunting, his air of invincibility. At every cut of my sword, he seemed to grow smaller, weaker, more pathetic. But I had no mercy, not for him. At last, he took one backward step too many and teetered on the edge of the pit, arms wind-milling for balance. I didn’t push him, but I didn’t reach out to help him either. Silent at last, he fell into the Oblivion of his own creation.

As I turned to gather up Sunder and Keening, a tremor shook the cavern, and several rocks rained down. Apparently the destruction of the Heart had caused greater repercussions than I had realized. Bruised and battered, I raced across the swaying bridge, dodging falling stones. When I reached the other side, I turned to watch as Akulakhan began to tremble and crack. Slowly, majestically, pieces of the giant construct began to shatter and fall into the molten rock below. When the last piece had settled, I took a long look at Kagrenac’s Tools, the instruments that had tempted mortals to become gods. Although I believed the Heart was destroyed, I could not be sure. But I could put the Tools out of reach. One by one, I dropped Sunder, Keening, and Wraithguard into the pit. The churning lava reached up to embrace each one, then with a flare of brimstone and magicka, they were gone. I stared into the heart of the fire for a very long time, wondering if my soul would ever again feel clean. It is no small thing to kill a god, even a mad one. It is a burden that no mortal man should have to bear. But then, I wasn’t a mortal man any longer. I would have forever to live with the memories of my deeds. Step by step, I climbed back up out of the cavern, at last entering the room where I had first confronted Dagoth Ur. When I reached the passage leading back into the citadel, a figure materialized in front of me. In the shape of a woman, wearing a gown as blue as the sky, Azura held out her arms in welcome. She told me that I was free of the burden of prophecy, that the blight was ended, but that the people of Morrowind still faced other dangers, other enemies. As she began to fade, she intoned,

“Accept this gift from the hands of the gods.”

Where she had stood, a ring appeared, floating several feet above the ground. Taking the ring, I threaded it onto the same chain as the Emperor’s “little gift.” Together, they would serve as a constant reminder that gifts from the powerful always come with a price- usually one that you cannot afford to pay.

[jonajosa]

You and your extreamly long winded paragraphs. I need a nap after each update.

Trey finally has saved morrowind from the evil god(or demigod?) Dagoth Ur. Wonderfully written. Takes me back to when I first finished it... I think i'll go buy the game again and play it.

:goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob:

[Lucidarius]

Thank you for a really detailed, wellwritten final battle with Dagoth Ur. I immensely enjoy the many thoughts that go through Trey's head that you let the reader in on.

Trey in the story seems so very humble with doubts and insecurity, but he fights against all odds and on behalf of others, even though he's not sure about his own power and ability to succeed.

The fight was described so well that I could picture it in my mind's eye and after reading all the chapters of the story so far I've come to admire Trey's personality, his loyalty, his quality of doubting himself and not being arrogantly selfassured as Dagoth Ur. In short: Trey seems human with strengths and weaknesses, and that is really a big achievement and one of the things that you do extremely well.

Also, there has been a lot of humour in some of the other chapters, which have made me smile or laugh.

It would be great, if you continued the story, but no pressure.

[Wolfie]

Cool, Trey finally polished of DU. You gonna do the expansions now, or is this the end of Trey's adventures?

[Veltan]

Amazing.
I'm a far-gone bookworm, and honestly this is one of the most well written pieces I have ever read. I really don't know what else to say, I'm speechless lol.