The Unlikely Incarnate, The Tale of Iocus Magna Options

[John the Dunmer]

I like this! It's very good! Most Morrowind fiction follows the game too closely, but this shows a lot of imagination, such as the real "orphan of Arnesia" arriving a minute after the fake. However, I see a problem with this. The Redorans may simply change whatever the contents of the papers were and notify the recipient that the original plan was intercepted and the back-up plan has been put into force. That would make the plans that the Hlaalu receive totally useless. If there is a way you can have the real "orphan of Arnesia" arrive at the same time as Locus does and find a way for Locus to outwit him Neminda by making her think the real "orphan of Arnesia" is an impostor, that would greatly improve on the situation.
One more thing. Quan is quite apparently Chinese, and Chinese don't use katana. Katana come from Japan. How about renaming him "Kato", and he can be Locus's sparring partner like Kato and Inspector Clouseau in The Pink Panther? In fact he can teach Locus the two-handed method of using the katata, which is by no means a one-handed sword as the game makes it out to be. In fact, he can say these hairy foreigners don't know how to use a katana to save their lives. Then Locus can become a master swordsman. In fact, Kato can be a ninja and teach Locus stealth and acrobatics as well. There's a ton of stuff you could do here! Go for it, man!

[Colonel Mustard]

I like this! It's very good! Most Morrowind fiction follows the game too closely, but this shows a lot of imagination, such as the real "orphan of Arnesia" arriving a minute after the fake. However, I see a problem with this. The Redorans may simply change whatever the contents of the papers were and notify the recipient that the original plan was intercepted and the back-up plan has been put into force. That would make the plans that the Hlaalu receive totally useless. If there is a way you can have the real "orphan of Arnesia" arrive at the same time as Locus does and find a way for Locus to outwit him Neminda by making her think the real "orphan of Arnesia" is an impostor, that would greatly improve on the situation.

I can honestly say that I hadn't thought of that at all! Damn your logic!

Anyway, I'll see what I can do to fix that-I'll probably make up a mission where Iocus has to sneak into some Redoran headquarters or something and try to get the new orders-though knowing him he'll probably try to bluff his way in!

One more thing. Quan is quite apparently Chinese, and Chinese don't use katana. Katana come from Japan. How about renaming him "Kato", and he can be Locus's sparring partner like Kato and Inspector Clouseau in The Pink Panther? In fact he can teach Locus the two-handed method of using the katata, which is by no means a one-handed sword as the game makes it out to be. In fact, he can say these hairy foreigners don't know how to use a katana to save their lives. Then Locus can become a master swordsman. In fact, Kato can be a ninja and teach Locus stealth and acrobatics as well. There's a ton of stuff you could do here! Go for it, man!

Actually, Quan's from Akavir-that's a seperate continent to Cyrodiil and is heavily based on far eastern countries such as Japan, China and Korea. Look for Mysterious Akavir in Oblivion-I think there's a copy or two in First Edition.

And for the training, Quan's going to 'lend a hand' to Iocus' sword skills before the duel with Bolwyn Venim. 'It' shall be gone for, believe me.

[Colonel Mustard]

And while I'm here, I might as well post up the next part.

Chapter 8-Arkangthand

I returned to Balmora to get my pay, yet another thousand gold pieces in return for the recipes, and left House Hlaalu's headquarters feeling extremely pleased with myself. After heading over to the South Wall Cornerclub to get a drink and some lunch, I decided that it was be time to report to Caius and see what surprises he had in store for me.

Caius opened the door with the same foul tempered glare had worn before, but looked marginally more pleased when he realised it was me that he had opened it to.

“You've got yourself nicely kitted out, I see,” he said, surveying my newly obtained suit of armour. “Come on in, lad.”

As I entered Caius' home, he said to me; “You've met Quan, or so I've heard.”

“That's right,” I said. “I've never seen a man like him before.”

“I'm not surprised,” Caius said. “He's from Akavir.”

“What?” I asked. “But I remember reading a book about Akavir-it said that all the people there were dead, eaten by snake people or something.”

“Not all of them,” Caius said. “Quan doesn't talk about it much, but apparently there are still a few humans holding on to survival by the skin of their teeth.”

“And Quan is one of the last?” I asked. “It sounds like something out of an old legend.”

“It does, doesn't it?” Caius said. He sat down heavily on his bed and took a deep swig from a bottle. “So, I take it you're here for work?”

“That' right,” I said.

“Good, good,” Caius said. “I want you to go speak to Hasphat Antabolis at the Fighter's Guild and get some notes on the Nerevarine cult from him. Got that? He might want you to run a little errand for him in return, but it aught to be easy enough.”

“Right,” I said. “I'll get going immediately.”

I left Caius' house in high spirits over the ease of my given mission. So all I had to do was run a little errand for somebody at the fighter's guild and get some notes. Piece of cake.

The fighter's guild was located on the other side of the river, but thanks to the fact that I had already visited while trying to get the armour it didn't take me long to find it again. After a bit of asking around, I discovered that Hasphat Antabolis (I still find that name incredibly silly, even after all these years) was usually found on the bottom floor.

I hurried down there to see it was a large room that was bustling with activity, various people sparring or simply relaxing. I looked around for somebody who could be a Hasphat Antabolis, and saw somebody working over an oak desk like a scholar of some sort, an unusual sight in a guild otherwise made up of people who were effectively mercenaries.

“You Hasphat Antabolis?” I asked. If I needed to find these notes on this cult of the Nerevarine, or whatever the name was, from Hasphat Antabolis then chances were that this scholarly looking person was him.

“That's me,” he replied. “What do you want?”

“I was told to get some notes on, what was it, the Nerevarine,” I said.

“Ah yes,” the man said. “Caius mentioned he would be sending somebody. ”

“And that somebody is me,” I said. “So, any chance of me having those notes?”

“Not so fast,” Hasphat said, holding up a finger. “If you want these notes then you're going to have to earn them.”

I slumped inwardly. Most likely 'earning' these notes would involve me going somewhere dangerous and killing something. Neither of those were prospects I was terribly keen on.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked apprehensively.

“There are some old ruins near here, dwemer ones,” Hasphat said. “I want you to head in there and retrieve something from me. It's a puzzle cube, made up of lots of little square segments, and I want to study that.”

“A cube? That sounds easy enough,” I said. “Where can I find this place.”

“Head towards Fort Moonmoth, that's the big Imperial Fort, and then take the left road uphill just before you get to it,” Hasphat said. “Head across the big dwemer bridge and up the hill a little further, and you ought to get to the ruins.”

“Right,” I said. “Fort, bridge, ruins. Got you.”

I turned, bid him farewell, and left.

#

So far, the walk had been a pleasant one. It was a faintly damp day, but with the sun filtering through the clouds it was warm enough. I had already headed past the fortress, wishing a dunmer herding some strange, reptilian creatures a good day, and after a short hike up the hill, reached the bridge.

The greenery here was strange. There was a lot of greenery here, far more than around Ald-Ruhn's dryer clime, and while the soil was also ashy, it was far more moist. I'm no farmer, but I guessed it was a lot more fertile around here.

I spied a figure waiting on the other side of the bridge, and kept a hand on the hilt of my sword as I approached. I'd yet to encounter any bandits, but I didn't want to take the risk.

As soon as the man on the bridge saw me, he leapt to his feet, grabbing a large warhammer slung on his back. He yelled something incomprehensible and with a puff of smoke, a walking skeleton sprang into life before me, summoned by magic beyond my understanding.

I gave a yell of surprise as the skeleton charged towards me. I dove away, evading the sweeping blade that aimed to decapitate me, instead having it clang on my armour. I landed hard, with an 'oof' of pain and scrambled to my feet before the skeleton's sword could end my life. I yanked my sabre free of its scabbard and sliced at the neck. It went wide and instead slammed into the side of the undead creature's skull, knocking it free. The skeleton crumpled to the ground, a lifeless pile of bones.

However, my celebrations were short lived as the madman with the warhammer yelled something and charged at me, swinging his massive weapon wildly. I dodged back from him and swung with my sabre, the weapon clanging off the breastplate he wore. I delivered a desperate kick, and while not strong, it was enough to get him off balance. I drove home my advantage with an elbow, and knocked the man to the ground.

Before I could finish him he scrambled up and fled down the way I had come, leaving his hammer behind. I picked it up-it looked a powerful weapon, but I abandoned it after it nearly wrenched my arms out of my sockets. I sat down and rested, sipping some water from a waterskin, and took a moment to catch my breath. I really needed to learn some more sword skills, I decided. If I had this much trouble beating an insane necromancer and his pet skeleton, I was going to be in trouble.

After I had caught my breath, I carried on along the bridge, and took the left turning up the hill, as Hasphat had recommended. After a short walk further, past some old dead trees, I found the entrance to Arkangthand.

It seemed to be a ball of sandy stone set into the otherwise iron grey rock of a cliff face, surrounded by a threshold of the same stuff. I approached it and tapped it experimentally, hoping to find some fault in the smooth sphere that I could prize open, but I could find none.

I then remembered hearing some strange things about Dwemer technology, about how they had devices that could be operated by leavers that were too far away to utilise mere pulleys. I searched for one for a moment and almost immediately I saw a strange lever just a few metres away from where I was. It twisted it around a few times, before with a grinding hiss, the spherical doorway ground open, revealing another round portal into the underworld beyond.

I pushed the heavy stone door open with some apprehension, and entered into one of the largest caverns I've ever encountered.

Massive pipes coiled down from the ceiling, steam hissing from joints within them. Half a bridge protruded out from the rock wall, before it ended in a pile of masonry almost a hundred metres below.

I made my way along the walkway that stretched over the huge cave, then down a long, spiralling rocky slope that protruded around the walls.

I was stopped in my tracks by a call of “Hey, you! What are you doing?”

I almost jumped when I heard the cry, and glanced down to see a pair of grizzled looking men, most likely thieves trying to steal the artifacts here, glaring up at me. No doubt they would attack me at a moment's notice, but there was no harm in throwing up a delay.

“You're smugglers, aren't you?” I asked.

“What if we are?” one them, a wood elf, asked. “You have a problem with that?”

“Not at all,” I replied, faking sincerity. “I happen to be looking for an artefact, however. You happen to be obtaining some. Perhaps we can come to a deal?”

The other one scrutinised me closely for a moment, before calling up; “Come on down. You can ask the boss.”

I hurried down to where the two smugglers were, before one of them beckoned for me to follow them. They led me into a large stone facade carved from the rock of the cave. There were various metal cabinets and drawers placed against the carved stone walls, but what grabbed my attention were the lights. They were tubes, made of carefully blown glass and filled with what appeared to be golden lightning that flickered gently. Whatever spell was placed upon them to store the lightning must have been incredibly powerful for it to last all this time-this place was old enough to make you feel the history weighing down on you.

“So, you're our visitor,” somebody said behind me. I had been so intrigued by the strange lights that I had almost forgotten where I was. “You want to buy something then?”

I turned to see a nord talking to me. He was a dangerous man, judging by his white hair, long, lanky beard and scarred appearance.

“That's right,” I said. “I'm a collector, you see, and I heard there was a particularly interesting piece of dwemer technology here. It's obvious to see that you've already been through some of the items here and you may have what I'm looking for.”

“Perhaps we do,” the nord said. “But don't you lot usually get things legally, so to speak?”

“Well, usually, yes,” I replied. “But sometimes it's just so much quicker to cut out the middle man, if you know what I mean. You know, get a guarantee on the item.”

The nord gave me a look that said; 'You're a criminal. I'm a criminal too. We have both acknowledged that we're the lowest of the low and we can get on with business.'

“What're you looking for?” he asked. “We might have it.”

“A cube,” I said, trying to hurriedly recall Hasphat's explanation of its appearance. “Made of lots of little segments and the like.”

“Ah, you must mean this,” the nord replied. He reached into a pocket and pulled out what could only be the puzzle cube that Hasphat mentioned.

I nodded enthusiastically.

“Might I inspect it?” I asked. “I need to examine it to see if it's the real thing.”

The nord's eyes narrowed, but he decided that with his two cronies hanging around he could easily deal with me if I tried something.

“Alright,” he said. “But no funny business.”

I examined the cube with what appeared to be the critical eye of an expert, before breathing a sigh of amazement and saying; “That's the genuine article. You have no idea how much time you have saved me.”

The nord looked pleased at that, before saying; “Well you're not just having it for free.”

“Of course not, of course,” I replied. “How much were you thinking.”

“Well,” the nord said. “I would say fifteen hundred septims, at the very least.”

“Fifteen hundred?” I exclaimed. “That's ridiculous!”

The process of haggling went on for a while, but suffice to say that we agreed on the price of a thousand septims. I payed the gold and he handed the cube over, before I left those ruins for good.

As soon as I reached Balmora, on a journey that was blessedly free of made, hammer wielding necromancers, I approached the nearest guard and said; “Sir, I'd normally hate to bother you, but I was travelling past some Dwemer ruins just north of town and I found there were some smugglers stealing artifacts from there.”

The guard thanked me and immediately left to gather together his fellow soldiers, no doubt to deal with the thieves.

It would serve that bugger right for making me pay so damn much.

This post has been edited by Colonel Mustard: Jul 11 2009, 09:09 PM

[Olen]

Good update. I'm intregued to see how you fit Quan into things...

Caius opened the door with the same foul tempered glare had worn before, but looked marginally more pleased when he realised it was me who had opened it. - who opened it?

Good work.

[Colonel Mustard]

*Facepalms at mistake*

Edit: Fixed!

This post has been edited by Colonel Mustard: Jul 11 2009, 09:10 PM

[ureniashtram]

Very Very Good Keep it Up