The Neveragaine, A Morrowind fanfic Options

[Helena]

Chapter 10: Moving House

I stayed the night at the Fighters’ Guild in Ald’ruhn, where I confirmed the legitimacy of my latest contract with Percius Mercius, and set off on my first mission for Redoran the next morning. Unfortunately Neminda’s directions were a little inadequate, and I took a wrong turning somewhere and ended up getting thoroughly lost. Then, after nearly an hour spent retracing my steps, I tried a different route and got lost again. By the time I spotted the smoke from Drulene Falen’s hut in the distance, the sun was beginning to set and I was tired, dirty and thoroughly fed up.

It was then that I heard a horrible, ear-splitting shriek like the cry of a banshee. I looked around hurriedly, trying to work out where it was coming from, but I couldn’t see anything unusual – until suddenly a shadow fell over me and I heard the beat of wings overhead.

I looked up in horror as just some kind of huge, winged creature came swooping down on me, aiming straight for my face. With a cry of fear I swung up my shield to protect myself, and the creature slammed into it with a force that almost knocked me backwards. A talon scraped across my cheek as I lashed out wildly with my sword, cleaving the horrible beast in two. It plummeted to the ground in a cloud of bloodstained feathers.

I stood panting over my defeated foe, conscious that I’d only just escaped with both eyes intact. What the hell was that thing, and why had it tried to kill me? In Cyrodiil, birds were cute, fluffy little things that trilled happy songs and flittered shyly away when humans approached. I should have known that the Morrowind variety would be larger, meaner, and about ten times more homicidal.

Having patched myself up, I continued following the rough trail through the hills and finally arrived at Drulene Falen’s farm, just as the last rays of sunlight were fading away. Drulene herself was standing among her guar, which were some of the strangest animals I’d ever seen – large, scaly creatures that looked a little like lizards, but walked on two legs. I’d no idea why mudcrabs would pose any problem to them; by the look of them, they could kill a human without too much trouble.

Drulene waved and called to me when she saw me. “Greetings, outlander! Are you from House Redoran? Did Neminda send you?”

“That’s right.”

She looked a little put out. “I’ve been waiting all day, you know.”

“I’m sorry,” I said wearily. “I got lost. Twice. And then I was attacked by some kind of huge… bird… thing.”

“A cliff racer, you mean?”

“Er… maybe. I’ve never seen one before.”

“Well, you’d best get used to them,” she advised. “You’ll see them often if you spend much time in the Ashlands.” Just what I wanted to hear!

“Anyway, Neminda mentioned you had some trouble with… mudcrabs?”

She nodded. “There’s a pair of them that’s been hunting my guar. Just the other day they killed one and dragged it off. They were very big mudcrabs,” she added a little defensively, seeing the expression on my face.

“They must have been,” I said. “Do you have any idea where they’re coming from?”

“From the coast to the southwest, I think.” She sighed. “If this keeps up, I might have to sell what I’ve still got and move back to Tear.” Good grief, these mudcrabs had to be pretty monstrous if they were causing that much trouble.

I set out to search for the culprits as the twilight crept in, and eventually found them in a nearby swamp, by the carcass of the stolen guar. In fairness to Drulene, those were some impressively large mudcrabs, but still not exactly what I’d call a tough opponent. If some people would just learn the basics of how to handle a weapon, it would save an awful lot of trouble.

I made my way back to Drulene’s farm in semi-darkness, stumbling over rocks and tree roots on the way. When she saw me, she waved excitedly. “Did you find the mudcrabs?”

“Yup, they’re dead.”

Her face flooded with relief. “Oh, thank the Tribunal! I might not have to move back to Tear after all. But you look tired, Ada,” she added in concern. This was something of an understatement. “Can I offer you some Hackle-Lo?”

I didn’t have the faintest idea what Hackle-Lo was, but it didn’t seem polite to refuse. I nodded, and she handed me a pouch full of pungent-smelling leaves. Leaves?

“Here you go, Ada,” she said cheerfully. “After a hard day there's nothing better than chewing some Hackle-Lo.”

I took it that Hackle-Lo was the local equivalent of tobacco. No doubt it had some kind of marvellous alchemical properties, but unfortunately I had the alchemical skills of the common mudcrab. “Er, thanks,” I said to Drulene, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Just what I wanted.”

There was no way I was walking back to Ald’ruhn in complete darkness – I’d lost my way one too many times already – and I didn’t want to waste my Intervention scrolls. Drulene’s one-room hut didn’t have a bed for me, but she kindly allowed me to sleep on the floor on an old blanket. Let’s just say that was not the most comfortable night I’ve ever spent, but it was better than sleeping outside and choking to death if an ash storm blew up.

On my way back to Ald’ruhn the next morning, I kept a wary eye out for cliff racers. The journey took only half a day this time, since I managed to avoid getting lost again, but once back at the Fighters’ Guild I spent at least another hour trying to get myself clean. I would never have imagined it was possible to get such huge quantities of ash caught up in my hair. Good thing I keep it tied back on missions, or I’d probably still be washing the stuff out.

Neminda greeted me cheerfully inside the Council hall. “You’ve been gone a while,” she observed, oblivious to the pissed-off expression on my face. “I was expecting you back yesterday evening.”

“Things… came up,” I said heavily. “Do I get paid now?”

She looked surprised. “Did Drulene not pay you?”

“Um, well, she gave me some… Hackle-Lo? But I thought…”

“Hackle-Lo is valuable,” she said severely. “You don’t expect anything more, surely?”

“Of course not,” I said, forcing myself to smile. Apparently my wages were to be paid in Hackle-Lo from now on. I supposed I would just have to get very good at bartering with the local alchemists.

I didn’t feel inclined to take another mission right away, but I couldn’t have done in any case, as the next day I found myself trapped in Ald’ruhn by one of those horrible Blight storms. Yet again I found myself wondering what the hell the Redorans had been smoking when they chose to found their capital in a place like this. Either things had got much worse since Ald’ruhn was first built, or they had really drawn the short straw in negotiations over territory. I could just imagine the discussions between them and the other Houses:

Hlaalu: “Okay chaps, let’s talk about land rights. We got here first, so we’re going to grab all the nice fertile lands in the Ascadian Isles. How about you?”

Telvanni: “Well, we’re big on mushrooms, so we’re going to build all our settlements out east on Azura’s Coast.”

Redoran: “We’re going to stick our capital city in the middle of a barren, ashy desert, with no nearby water supply or arable land, on the slopes of an active volcano which spews out poisonous ash clouds every few days or so. It has cool shells!”

Other Houses: “……”

In the end, I decided to face the music and go back to Balmora. I’d been putting off visiting Caius as long as possible, but after wiping out half the city’s Camonna Tong contingent, I couldn’t really go on pretending I needed more time to improve my skills. And I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Nileno again either, but it had to be done.

By this time I was meeting the Guild guide Masalinie on such a regular basis that we were starting to become friends. “I hear some Imperial guy has been asking around about you,” she said, when I teleported into in the Guild building. “Someone named Caius… Cosades? Oh, and Nileno Dorvayn at the Council hall is looking for you as well. She didn’t look too happy.”

Surprise, surprise. Well, it was probably best to go there first.

Nileno was writing at her desk as usual, but not for long. The moment she saw me, she leapt to her feet and pointed an accusing finger in my direction. “Traitor!”

I had already decided that with Nileno the best means of defence was probably offence, but this made me genuinely angry. “I am not a traitor,” I hissed. “You kicked me out, not the other way round!”

She dismissed this with an angry wave of her hand. “You have joined Redoran!”

“So?”

“So? So?” Nileno was almost quaking with rage. “If I were not unarmed, I would kill you on the spot!”

“Oh, really? Just like you killed all those Cammona Tong people at the Council Club?” I took a step towards her. “Oh wait, no: That was me. Think very carefully before you start threatening me, Nileno.”

Inwardly I was trembling, but my little show of bravado must have been convincing, because Nileno’s outraged expression subsided into a sulky pout. “Have you no loyalty? We paid you well!”

“I’ll pay it back,” I snarled. “All of it. With interest.”

“You cannot just – ” Her brows shot up as she suddenly realised what I was actually saying. “With interest?”

A short while later I left the Council manor, having signed an agreement to repay all the money House Hlaalu had paid me – a total of four thousand drakes – plus the five-hundred-drake ‘deposit’ I had just handed over. If my calculations were correct, that made for an interest rate of 12.5 per cent – pretty steep, but worth it to get Nileno Dorvayn off my back. Luckily I’d chosen to save up most of the money rather than going on a spending spree, but it would still take a while to pay all of it back, especially if a handful of Hackle-Lo was the going rate for House Redoran jobs.

As I walked to Caius Cosades’ house, I took stock of my current situation. On the minus side, I’d thrown away a promising career in a moment of self-righteous anger, not to mention pissing off one of the most powerful men in Vvardenfell and destroying my chances of getting back home. On the plus side, I had a new House: a House of honourable humourless bastards who thought nothing of sending me on a day-long expedition to deal with a couple of sodding mudcrabs. Without payment. Ah yes, life was good.

I greeted Caius in his skooma-filled house, and ended up telling him the entire story over a mug of tea. (He still wasn’t wearing a shirt.) I guess I should have known not to expect sympathy, but he didn’t have to laugh quite so heartily at the story of Crassius Curio and my request for ‘sponsorship’.

“Be careful, Ada,” he chortled, wiping the tears from his eyes. “You don’t want to get a reputation for throwing vases at Great House councillors. Might earn you some unwanted attention.”

I glared at him. “Did you actually have some orders, or did you invite me here just to make fun of me?”

“Sorry.” He shook his head, calming down a little. “So you’re a Redoran, now, eh? Well, not to interfere in your affairs, but I’d recommend you stay on your best behaviour from now on. From what I know of the Redorans, they won’t be so easily bought off.”

“I’ll do my best,” I said, with a sigh. “So what did you want me to do next?”

Caius motioned to a scroll of paper lying on the table beside him. “Well, I’ve thought it over,” he said, “and I want you to interview three informants in Vivec City concerning the Nerevarine and the Sixth House. A Khajiit Thieves Guild operative named Addhiranirr, an Argonian called Huleeya, and a Temple priestess named Mehra Milo.” He pushed the scroll across the table towards me. “Here are the details so you don’t forget. By the way, Mehra is a friend of mine, so be careful when you speak to her – I don’t want you getting her into trouble.”

I couldn’t be bothered to ask how he knew that these seemingly random people would have the information he wanted. No doubt he had his sources. “Right,” I said. “By the way… were you planning to tell me what all this is about at some point? All this business with extinct Houses and secret cults?”

He wagged a finger at me. “All will be revealed in good time. You need to learn patience if you want to be a Blade, Ada.”

“Er. Caius.” It was probably time I broke the news to him. “I take it you realise that I’m not going to be staying with the Blades?”

Caius raised his eyebrows slightly. He took a sip from his mug and laid it down on the table, settling back in his chair. “Oh? Planning to flee the Emperor’s service, are you?”

“No,” I said in exasperation. “I’ll find out whatever you and the Emperor want to know about these cults, but after that I’m going back to Cyrodiil, all right? So I wouldn’t start making any plans that involve me staying in Morrowind.”

“Is that so?” he said quietly. “Well, we’ll see.”

I could tell this battle wasn’t over yet, but there wasn’t much I could do for the moment except head for Vivec. At least it would give me the chance to get a few more of my Pilgrimage visits done.

Before leaving for Vivec I went to deal with the outlaw Orc Dura Gra-Bol for the Fighters’ Guild. It was easy enough to find her – she was living openly in a house on the east side of town – but unfortunately she refused to come quietly and attacked me, forcing me to kill her. When I returned to Eydis afterwards, she told me that she didn’t have any more duties for someone of my rank, and I’d have to try the other regional Guild offices. To be honest, I was a little relieved.

I arrived in Vivec early in the afternoon. According to Caius’ notes, the Argonian Huleeya could be found in the Foreign Quarter, so I decided to look for him first. After asking around I learned that he could often be found in the Black Shalk cornerclub in the Lower Waistworks.

When I entered the cornerclub, my heart immediately sank. A worried-looking Argonian, presumably Huleeya, was standing in a corner of the room, surrounded by three very unfriendly and thuggish-looking Dunmer. The only other person in the room, the bartender, was standing well back with an “I’m not getting involved in this” expression on his face. Clearly I had chosen a rather bad moment to drop in.

I approached the man who looked like their leader, and greeted him politely. He scowled at me. “Am I talking to you, fetcher? No. I am talking to the filthy lizard. So push off.”

“Me and the ‘filthy lizard’ have business,” I said, folding my arms.

The Dunmer snorted in disgust. “What, are you some kind of filthy lizard lover? You wanta give your little friend a big kiss?”

I hesitated for a moment, thinking things over. I was only lightly armed right now, and I didn’t really want to start a fight in the middle of a club in Vivec (particularly a three-on-one fight). Besides, if I did there was a chance that Huleeya would get hurt. Maybe it was time to spread some of Caius’ gold around.

“How about I give you a big bag of gold instead?” I suggested, keeping my voice calm and steady. “And then maybe you’ll leave me and my friend to talk in peace. Deal?”

The three men exchanged glances. Finally, the leader shrugged. “Fine. You wanta take the lizard out of here, I’m not stopping you.”

I handed over a hundred septims from my pouch, and motioned to Huleeya to follow me. We left the club in silence, the thugs’ gazes boring into our backs. When the door clicked shut behind us, Huleeya breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you for persuading those troublesome fools to leave me alone,” he said. “I would have slain them, but it would tarnish my honour, and I did not want to trouble my friend Saralis Golmis by fighting in his club.”

Yeah, right, I thought, but I didn’t say it. “What happened?”

He shrugged. “They simply wanted to fight. They hate my race, and the sight of a free Argonian offends them. It saddens and angers me.”

I nodded gloomily. It always saddens me to see prejudice and racism directed at the so-called ‘beast-folk’, though I can kind of understand how they might seem scary if you haven’t grown up amongst them like I did. The Argonians are basically giant walking lizards, and the feline Khajiit have a somewhat disturbing habit of referring to non-Khajiit as ‘prey’. They don’t mean anything by it, though (well, usually).

Anyway, time to get down to business. “You’re Huleeya, right?”

“Yes. You said you had business to discuss with me?”

I lowered my voice, knowing that Ordinators tended to lurk round every corner in Vivec. “Caius Cosades sent me. He wants information about the Nerevarine cult.”

“Ah.” Huleeya nodded slowly. “Very well. Come with me to my friend Jobasha’s bookstore, where we can talk in peace.”

We walked to a bookstore on the other side of the waistworks. Once inside, Huleeya drew me into a secluded corner and we sat down.

“Yes, thank you very much. We should be free from distraction here.” He took a sheaf of folded notes from his pocket. “What is it you wish to know about the Nerevarine cult?”

I sighed, wondering where to begin. “Well, to start with, perhaps you could tell me a little more about how the cult got started?”

“You have heard of Lord Nerevar, of course.” I nodded. “Well, to understand the Nerevarine cult, you must understand the history of the Ashlanders. Nerevar means something very different to them from what he means to Dunmer of the Great Houses.”

“In what way?”

“In the First Era, the nomadic Ashlanders and the settled Dunmer clans were much alike,” he explained, “but after the First Council and the formation of the Great Houses, Ashlanders have been steadily forced into the poorest and most hostile lands. Now they look to the prophesied return of Nerevar for a restoration of their ancient rights and traditions. They say that when they joined Nerevar in the Battle of Red Mountain, he swore on his great Ring, One-Clan-Under-Moon-and-Star, to honour the ways of the Spirits and rights of the Land.”

“So they believe that one day he’ll be reborn, and…”

“…fulfil his promises to the Tribes, yes.”

Ah, yes, this all sounded very familiar. A mistreated and downtrodden people, harking back to an imagined Golden Age to escape the harsh realities of their lives, dreaming of the day when some ancient hero would return and magically make things right again. It was all rather sad, really.

“And the Houses, what do they believe?”

Huleeya sighed. “Well, the Houses follow the Temple, and the Temple treats the Nerevarine prophecies as heresy. And the punishment for heresy is imprisonment and execution.”

I sat bolt upright. “What? I thought Morrowind’s treaty with the Empire was supposed to guarantee religious freedom?”

“In theory, yes,” he said, smiling rather sourly. “But the Nerevarine cult is hostile to the Empire, so the Empire does not interfere when the Temple persecutes the cult. Ashlanders hate the Temple, and particularly the Ordinators, for their ruthless treatment of Nerevarine cultists.”

I sat back in my chair, trying to take this in. As if things weren’t bad enough already, it would seem that I’d got myself involved with a bunch of fanatical religious extremists. It almost made me have second thoughts about doing any more pilgrimages for them – though on the other hand, maybe it was all the more reason to get them done as soon as possible. I certainly didn’t want anyone suspecting me of heresy.

“Er.” I swallowed nervously. “Just what, exactly, would you have to do for the Temple to declare you a heretic?”

“Well, for example, some in the past have claimed to be the reincarnated Nerevar,” he said. “The most recent is an Ashlander girl named Peakstar, a figure of legend among the Wastes tribes for the last 30 years. The Temple says these ‘false Incarnates’ disprove the prophecies, but the cult cites their appearance as proof of Nerevar’s coming rebirth.”

“And what happened to Peakstar?”

He shrugged. “Nobody knows. She disappeared, and has not been seen in more than twenty years now. The Temple claims she is dead, but no body was ever found.”

“Well, thanks for your time, Huleeya,” I said as I got to my feet, taking the notes he’d prepared for Caius. “You’ve been very helpful.” He’d certainly told me plenty, including some things which I’d really have preferred not to know. I’d be even more nervous of the Ordinators now.

Addhiranirr, the Khajiit thief, was the next person on my list. I was told that she lived somewhere in the St. Olms canton, which was quite a long walk away, so I went to the Foreign Quarter gondolier to ask if he could take me to St. Olms.

“No,” he said.

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I can take you as far as the Arena,” he said, “and you can cross the bridge from there. Or take another gondola, if you like. But I don’t go as far as St. Olms.”

I looked at him in disbelief. “Couldn’t I just pay you a little bit extra to go to St. Olms?”

“No.”

Grinding my teeth, I handed over the fare for the Arena. Luckily the St. Olms canton was the next one over, so it was just a short walk over the bridge when I arrived. I made my way up to the Waistworks, where I was surprised to be greeted by a well-dressed Imperial holding some papers.

“Good afternoon, sister,” he said with a pleasant smile. “I’m looking for a friend of mine, a female Khajiit named Addhiranirr. Do you know where I can find her?”

Addhiranirr? What a bizarre coincidence. “Er, no,” I said truthfully. “I don’t know where to find her.”

“I see,” he said, nodding. “Well, perhaps some other good citizen can tell me where to find her.”

Well, that was weird, I thought as he walked away. Was he after her for the same reason I was? Surely not.

Once the Imperial was safely out of sight, I approached a Dark Elf resident and asked about Addhiranirr. “Hmm,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe that name does sound a little familiar. For some reason, I just can’t seem to remember.”

Sighing, I handed him some more of Caius’ coins, and he grinned. “Okay, I know Addhiranirr. And if I know Addhiranirr, she’ll be staying out of sight as long as that Census and Excise agent is lurking about.” Ah, I thought. “Probably down in the underworks. Look for trapdoors down from the canalworks level.”

“The sewers?” I asked in horror.

“Yeah, that’s right. Not scared of a little dirt, are you, Cyrodiil?”

Oh, Talos, why me? I hated sewers more than almost anything else in existence. I’d had to go down into the Imperial City’s sewers a couple of times before, and it had taken me days to get the smell out.

I prepared myself thoroughly before braving the underworks, changing into my oldest, shabbiest clothes and buying some perfumed oils from the canton’s alchemist. After that I went down to the next level of the canton, the canalworks, and managed to locate a trapdoor into the sewer. One of the Divines must have been with me, as I found Addhiranirr almost straight away.

“Great,” she said, when I explained who I was and what I wanted. “So Caius says to you, ‘Speak with Addhiranirr,’ and you have done this thing. But Addhiranirr will not talk to you about the Nerevarine or the Sixth House cult, and because why?”

“Why?”

She scowled. “Because Addhiranirr is, at this moment, very distracted by a nice Census and Excise agent, who also wants to speak with her.”

“What about?” I asked, though I’d already guessed the answer.

“You do not know this?” she said scornfully. “They are the collectors of the Emperor’s taxes and tariffs. And the Emperor has outlawed trade in many things, like Dwemer artifacts and ebony, and a Census and Excise agent will enjoy being a pest about such things. If you want Addhiranirr to help you, make the bad agent go away – then she will tell you things.”

I went back to the Waistworks and changed my clothes again, wondering what I could say to the agent to make him go away. All I could think of was to say that she’d been seen leaving the canton, and hope he believed me.

When I found the tax agent again, still wandering around the waistworks, he smiled at me. “Can I help you, ma’am?”

“Well, I’ve been asking around about your Khajiit friend,” I said as innocently as possible, “and I heard she just took a gondola to the mainland. Seems you missed her, I’m afraid.”

“What a disappointment,” he sighed. “But thank you for your time. I was just heading back to the mainland myself, anyway, and maybe I’ll run into her there.”

I felt a little guilty as I watched him go. I’m not the kind who enjoys ratting people out to tax agents (and they do exist), but I don’t particularly approve of smuggling either, even if the law is unfair. But hey, if Caius chose to associate with Thieves’ Guild people, there wasn’t much I could do about it.

Addhiranirr smiled gleefully when I told her I’d dealt with the Census and Excise agent. “Really? This is a good trick. And Addhiranirr does not ask you how you do this trick, because Addhiranirr does not want to know. But now Addhiranirr is feeling quite good, and happy to talk to you about the cults.”

“Do you know about the Sixth House cult?”

She nodded. “This Addhiranirr knows about, because it is about smuggling. Some smart smugglers are suddenly too busy for their old clients, because they have a new employer, the Sixth House, who pays very well.”

“What are they smuggling?”

“Addhiranirr doesn’t know, because they are very secret. And this is odd, because these smugglers are always loud and bragging, and now they hush up like fat-bellied kitties full of sweet-meats.”

Hmm, interesting. “You don’t know any more than this? Nothing about people called ‘Sleepers’, for instance?” She shook her head. “What about the Nerevarine cult?”

Addhiranirr let out a mocking laugh. “Yes, Addhiranirr knows this Nerevarine cult is just silly superstition. So you tell Caius this: Nobody in her right mind pays any attention to this moon-yeowling, prophecies and ancient heroes reborn and other silliness. Fuzzy tales for little kitties.”

Well, it was good to find someone else who saw this Nerevarine nonsense for what it was. From what I’d heard so far, there didn’t seem to be anything in it except wishful thinking on the part of the Ashlanders – certainly nothing that could pose a real threat to the Empire. Why Caius took such an interest in it was beyond me.

I took a vigorous bath and smeared myself in perfume before setting off to find Caius’ final informant, Mehra Milo, in the Temple canton. In his notes, Caius had warned me not to ask anyone about Mehra, as he didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that she was speaking to an outlander. He’d described her as ‘the priestess with the copper hair and copper eyes’, so that was all I had to go on.

As I walked to the bridge which joined the two cantons, enjoying the cool evening air, I spotted something which froze me in my tracks. High in the air above the magnificent Temple building was a massive – and I do mean massive – piece of rock, vaguely oval in shape and easily the size of a small moon. It seemed to be floating in the air of its own accord, and looking carefully I could see doors carved into it and balconies attached to the surface. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before in my entire life.

“Excuse me,” I said to a nearby gondolier, pointing. “What is that?”

“That is the Ministry of Truth, outlander.”

“How does it…?” I made an upwards gesture with my hands.

“It is a celestial body suspended there by the mighty power of Vivec,” he said with an entirely straight face. “Legend says that should the populace cease to worship Vivec, it will fall and raze the city.”

Okay, it sounded ridiculous, but I couldn’t think of a better explanation. “And what are those doors in it?”

He smiled grimly. “The Ministry of Truth was hollowed out to provide a prison and re-education centre operated by the Temple Ordinators for the correction of heretics.”

‘Correction of heretics’? Okay, that was it: the Temple were officially a bunch of utter lunatics. ‘Re-education centre’? ‘Ministry of Truth’? Why didn’t they just call it the ‘Inquisition’, for crying out loud?

Suddenly I began to feel a little dizzy. I hadn’t eaten dinner, but I didn’t think that was the reason; it was more that I was having trouble absorbing all this new information in a single day. The relative normality of life in Morrowind so far had lulled me into a false sense of security; it was only at times like this that I was reminded of what an incredibly weird place it really was.

Perhaps I ought to go back to the Foreign Quarter to eat and rest, then speak to Mehra the next morning. Then I could complete my next three Pilgrimages, instruct my bank on how much to pay to House Hlaalu, and hopefully get back to Balmora in time for afternoon tea with Caius. I’d achieved plenty for one day, after all.

I don’t know if it was just due to nervousness, but that night I had another strange dream about the man in the loincloth and golden mask. This one was even more vivid and disturbing, as this time I could actually hear him speak: “There are many rooms in the house of the Master. Be easy, for from the hands of your enemies I have delivered you.”

He stood aside, revealing a body lying on a table lit by candles, and to my horror I realised that it was me. I appeared to be dead, but when I touched the body – cringing, and trying not to shudder – I saw it draw breath, open its eyes, and rise from the table. The next moment I was lying in bed awake, gasping for breath and swearing yet again not to eat rich food so late in the evening.

[haute ecole rider]

Loved it!

In Cyrodiil, birds were cute, fluffy little things that trilled happy songs and flittered shyly away when humans approached. I should have known that the Morrowind variety would be larger, meaner, and about ten times more homicidal.

I just about fell over laughing at this! I used to take care of birds when I volunteered in wildlife rehab, and let me tell you, there is nothing cute or fluffy about them!

I could just imagine the discussions between them and the other Houses:

Hlaalu: “Okay chaps, let’s talk about land rights. We got here first, so we’re going to grab all the nice fertile lands in the Ascadian Isles. How about you?”

Telvanni: “Well, we’re big on mushrooms, so we’re going to build all our settlements out east on Azura’s Coast.”

Redoran: “We’re going to stick our capital city in the middle of a barren, ashy desert, with no nearby water supply or arable land, on the slopes of an active volcano which spews out poisonous ash clouds every few days or so. It has cool shells!”

Other Houses: “……”

ROFLMAO!!

“Excuse me,” I said to a nearby gondolier, pointing. “What is that?”

“That is the Ministry of Truth, outlander.”

“How does it…?” I made an upwards gesture with my hands.

“It is a celestial body suspended there by the mighty power of Vivec,” he said with an entirely straight face. “Legend says that should the populace cease to worship Vivec, it will fall and raze the city.”

Okay, it sounded ridiculous, but I couldn’t think of a better explanation. “And what are those doors in it?”

He smiled grimly. “The Ministry of Truth was hollowed out to provide a prison and re-education centre operated by the Temple Ordinators for the correction of heretics.”

Okay, this sounds an awful lot like 1984. Too many people at Beth forced to read George Orwell in high school perhaps?

[treydog]

The first encounter with a cliff racer is always startling… And I have a feeling birds recall their dinosaur ancestry and figure they should have killed off those furry little so-and-so’s that were stealing eggs when they had the chance. Failing that, they will gladly take a chunk out of anyone dumb enough to get too close.

No doubt it had some kind of marvellous alchemical properties, but unfortunately I had the alchemical skills of the common mudcrab.

Haute already pointed out one of my other favorite moments- the imagined negotiations over territory on Vvardenfell.

“I’ll pay it back,” I snarled. “All of it. With interest.”

“You cannot just – ” Her brows shot up as she suddenly realised what I was actually saying. “With interest?”

Yes, Ada is definitely Redoran material… And I am not sure that is completely complimentary.

The second meeting with the (still shirtless) Caius was fun- for everyone except Ada.

And the Vivec gondoliers apparently belong to the Tamriel equivalent of the Teamster’s Union.

Wonderful, Helena, as your stories always are.

[Helena]

Yes, Ada is definitely Redoran material… And I am not sure that is completely complimentary.

I dunno... I think she got off pretty lightly on that one, to be honest.

More screenshots:

Preparing to take on the Camonna Tong
Dressed to kill
Full battle armour (minus helmet)

[mALX]

I love all the Ada/Caius scenes - and the day he disappears is added to that! Great screenies! (Dressed to kill is my personal fave)

This post has been edited by mALX: Oct 1 2010, 03:31 PM

[Helena]

Chapter 11: The Pilgrim’s Progress

In the morning I looked through my copy of The Pilgrim’s Path to check I had everything needed for the Vivec pilgrimages. All the shrines were in the Temple canton, so I was hoping to get all three done at once after speaking to my last informant. Two of the offerings were easy enough to get hold of – 100 gold and a Rising Force potion – but the Shrine of Courtesy in the Puzzle Canal required a silver blade. Sighing, I went to the smith and purchased a silver shortsword, which I hoped would be acceptable.

After that I went back to the Temple canton to see Mehra Milo, smiling nervously at the Ordinators who greeted me along the way (“A fine day to you, Mr. Ordinator! Just minding my own business here, not doing anything heretical!”) The Library of Vivec was in the Hall of Wisdom, a section of the administrative offices on the canalside level of the canton. After wandering around its dark, twisty and confusing passages for a while (ever hear of windows, guys?), I eventually found the right place. I couldn’t ask anyone about Mehra directly, but I did see a Dunmer woman in a dark-blue robe who fit Caius’ description.

I cautiously approached her, wondering how to ascertain who she was without asking her outright. “Er… excuse me, sera? I was wondering if you could help me.”

“What is it you want, outlander?”

I took a deep breath. “I’m… looking for a book. For my friend Caius.”

Her eyes widened, and I knew immediately that I’d got the right person. “I see,” she said carefully. “And what sort of book would your friend be looking for?”

“Well, he’s very interested in Morrowind history and legends,” I said. “Ancient prophecies, secret cults, that sort of thing…”

A smile spread across her face. “Very well, come with me. I’m sure we can find something suitable.”

I couldn’t help feeling rather proud of myself as I followed Mehra to a secluded area in the back of the library. This was genuine spy stuff, just like in novels. Next thing you knew I’d be breaking into vaults to steal secret documents, and getting captured and tortured for – OK, hopefully not that last part.

Once we were out of hearing behind some bookcases, Mehra let down her guard and smiled. “So Caius sent you? I assume that you want information of some kind?”

I explained what I needed to know about the cults, and she nodded. “I’m afraid I don’t know anything about a Sixth House cult, but I can tell you about the Nerevarine cult.”

“Okay,” I said, interested to hear about the cult from the perspective of someone connected with the Temple. “Can you tell me why the Temple persecutes the cult? It seems harmless enough to me.”

Mehra sighed. “Well, the Nerevarines say the Tribunal are false gods. To be honest, I’ve never understood why the Temple wastes so much energy on them – the faithful cannot be shaken by such attacks, and the Ashlanders are just ignorant savages. But with the erosion of faith among the Dunmer, the militant wing of the Temple is increasingly fierce in its attacks on heretics.”

“What do you mean about the erosion of faith?”

“Since the Empire, some Dunmer have turned away from the Temple,” she said. “Faith is the source of the divine power that sustains the Tribunal in their battle with Dagoth Ur. Many believe that is why Dagoth Ur grows stronger, and blight storms and monsters threaten the land.”

Maybe it was just natural cynicism, but that sounded like an excuse to me. “Hold on,” I said. “House Redoran are strong supporters of the Temple, right? So why are the blight storms worse in Redoran areas?”

“I cannot say.” Not a very satisfactory answer. “And then, of course, there are the Dissident Priests…”

“Dissident Priests?”

Mehra hesitated for a moment, then lowered her voice almost to a whisper. “The Dissident Priests dispute Temple doctrine on the Nerevarine prophecies. What’s more, they challenge the purity and divinity of the Tribunal. They suggest that their powers are sorcerous, not divine, and perhaps even akin to the powers of Dagoth Ur.”

“Seriously? Wow.” That sounded like some pretty controversial stuff, I had to admit.

“They also condemn the arbitrary power of the Ordinators,” Mehra continued, “and accuse the Temple hierarchy of self-interest and corruption.”

Aha, I thought. I wonder what really bothers the Temple hierarchy most? Religious doctrine, or threats to their own power and influence?

I gave Mehra a hard look. “Are you one of these ‘Dissident Priests’, Mehra? Is that why you’re passing information to Caius?”

Mehra didn’t answer the question directly. Instead, after a pause, she said, “Caius is a dear friend. Like me, he admires the best traditions of the Temple – charity for the poor, education for the ignorant, protection for the weak – but like me, he distrusts the Ordinators and he suspects the Temple is hiding something. He serves the Emperor, but he also loves Morrowind, and he sees the failing virtues of the Temple as a threat to Morrowind’s political stability.”

I sank my chin into my hands, thinking all this over. “You should get a copy of the book Progress of Truth for Caius,” Mehra said at last. “It describes the beliefs of the Dissident Priests. As for me, I am bound to come to the attention of the Ordinators sooner or later, and I fear I must go into hiding. When you return to Caius, tell him I am worried, and that if something goes wrong, I will leave a message under the code word ‘amaya’.”

My head was starting to ache as I left the Hall of Wisdom and emerged into the fresh air. Honestly, this was all getting a bit too involved for me, what with rebel priests and religious schisms and accusations of heresy. All I ever wanted to do was run around and hit things with swords.

Luckily, what happened next was enough to take my mind off this secret-agent business for quite a while. I’d promised myself I would do the Pilgrimages, and since it was still quite early in the morning, I didn’t see any reason to put it off. I walked to the Shrine of Daring, on top of the Temple canton, and donated the Potion of Rising Force I’d bought ages ago in the Foreign Quarter (I still hadn’t managed to work out what it was for). Then I recited the ‘Grace of Daring’ written on the shrine.

For a moment, nothing obvious happened except that I suddenly felt quite a bit lighter. At first I thought the shrine had cast another Feather spell on me, but when I started to walk away it occurred to me that I couldn’t actually feel the ground beneath my feet. I looked down in bemusement, to see that I was actually hovering an inch or two above the hard flagstones.

I blinked, convinced that I must be imagining things. It made no difference. Tentatively, I took couple of steps forward and ‘upward’ as if trying to climb an invisible staircase. It worked.

I was flying.

I drew a shaky breath, unable to believe this was happening. Surely it couldn’t be a dream? I leapt upwards, stretching my arms towards the sky, and found myself soaring towards the clouds as if I were lighter than air. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything quite equal to the pure joy I felt at that moment.

“Wheeeeee!” I shrieked, suddenly five years old again. I flapped my arms like a bird, and turned a couple of somersaults in the air. “I’m flying! I’m – ” I broke off, suddenly realising that someone might be able to hear me. But the only people in sight were a couple of Ordinators far away on the Ministry of Truth, who either hadn’t seen me or pretended not to.

So that was how they got up there, I thought. And that was what the guard at Tel Branora, the Telvanni tower, had meant about flying. Was this the spell that had been banned by the ‘Levitation Act’ in Cyrodiil? If so, I didn’t blame the mages for kicking up a fuss.

Suddenly it occurred to me that the spell could wear off again at any moment, and I hastily lowered myself until I felt my feet touch the ground. Even so, I could still move at twice my normal speed, and with almost no effort at all. I took a run up the steps of the massive Palace of Vivec, where the next of my three Pilgrimage shrines could be found.

The Shrine of Generosity was easy enough; I just donated 100 septims and it cast another blessing which I couldn’t identify. I paused for a moment to look at the sturdy-looking door of the Palace – was there really a living God inside there? Somehow I doubted I would ever be allowed in to see.

To each side of the steps were five grates leading into the Puzzle Canal, one set into each tier of the Palace. I removed the cuirass I was wearing – I wasn’t going to risk that getting rusty – and floated over the right-hand barrier, wondering which grate to enter. In the end I chose the middle one pretty much at random and waded through into the Puzzle Canal.

Inside I found myself standing in the canal itself, almost chest-deep in water. I swam around for a minute looking for a way out before realising that I could simply fly upwards and onto the bank. There was no shrine to Vivec to be seen, but in a nearby tunnel I found another loose grate leading into a different level of the Canal.

This room was a massive chamber with a stone ‘island’ in the middle of a deep pool. On top of the island I found a shrine with no Grace to read, only a cryptic message: Breathe the Waters of His Glory and the Way is Made Clear. Was it referring to a Water Breathing spell? But I didn’t know any.

I looked around for something that would give me an idea of what to do next. At the other end of the room I could see a passage through into a second chamber, but it appeared to be blocked by some kind of magical force field. Sighing, I removed my pack, waded back into the water, and ducked down under the surface, holding my breath for as long as I could without suffocating.

Nothing happened. I resurfaced and, suppressing every survival instinct known to humankind, attempted to breathe in water through my nostrils and mouth. All it did was leave me coughing and spluttering, desperate for air.

I tried again. This time I took in so much water that my lungs felt as if they were burning up, but still nothing happened. Surely the Temple didn’t expect pilgrims to drown themselves just to visit a shrine?

Gritting my teeth, I ducked under the surface again for one last attempt. Unfortunately I must somehow have drifted under one of the stone pillars that surrounded the island, because when I tried to resurface, I banged my head against something very hard. I actually blacked out for a few seconds before waking to find myself floating on the surface of the water, face upwards. Rather surprisingly, the Levitation spell was still active.

As I hauled myself out of the pool and chugged a healing potion, I noticed that the force-field blocking off the passage had disappeared. I walked through into the next chamber, which contained only a couple of broken pillars and a large staircase. At the top of the steps was yet another shrine, presumably the Shrine of Courtesy, and – good gods, was that a Dremora?

I took a closer look at it (him?): ebony-black skin, glowing eyes, horns and an impressive set of Daedric armour. Yep, this was either a Dremora or a guy in a very convincing costume. I hadn’t realised the servants of Mehrunes Dagon, Daedric Prince of Destruction, were known for their courtesy; most of the ones I’d met previously had shown more interest in hacking me to pieces than making polite conversation.

Very, very cautiously, I made my way up the steps to the shrine, expecting to be attacked by the fierce-looking Daedra at any moment. “Er, hello?”

“Are you here on the pilgrimage?” he asked. “Read the shrine.”

I read the inscription on the shrine. ‘Here Vivec gave a plain silver longsword to the Daedra Lord Mehrunes Dagon, rather than dishonour himself by fighting an unarmed foe.’

“Ah, yes. The sword.” I took out the silver shortsword I’d bought earlier that morning. “It’s actually a shortsword, not a longsword, but…”

The Dremora was shaking his head. “I can only accept longswords.”

“What? But I thought…” I flicked open my Pilgrim’s Path book at the appropriate page and read it again, more carefully this time. ‘The Dremora Krazzt is found in the centre of the Puzzle Canal, and will accept a plain silver longsword if spoken to with courtesy.’ Oh, drat it all.

“Wouldn’t a shortsword do instead?” I begged. “Please? Maybe if I ask really, really nicely?”

He looked at me through narrowed eyes, unmoved. “I can only accept plain silver longswords. I didn’t make the rules, mortal.”

Gods. I couldn’t believe I was standing here, at the shrine of a god I didn’t even really worship, arguing over the technicalities of a pilgrimage with a bloody Dremora. I was just about to ask the Daedra what the hell I was supposed to do now, when he leaned towards me and said in a low voice, “There is one in the chest over there.”

I walked to the nearby wooden chest, keeping one eye on the Dremora just in case, and opened the lid. Inside were two silver longswords, as promised. I took one of them out of the chest and carried it over to Krazzt, who nodded.

“As you see, I am unarmed. But you are brave and gallant.” Was that a slight eye-roll I saw there? “Will you give me your longsword so that I may stand a chance against your might?”

“Of course, friend Daedra,” I replied politely, fighting a sudden urge to laugh. After all, the whole thing was pretty ridiculous.

Krazzt inclined his head slightly as he took the sword. “Yes, I accept this sword. Thank you, mortal; you have the grace of courtesy. You should read the inscription on the shrine to complete your pilgrimage.”

“That’s all?” I asked, a little surprised. “We don’t actually have to fight?”

He shook his head with a sigh. “Just read the shrine and leave. I tire of your mortal presence.”

“Very courteous”, I mumbled, as I approached the shrine to recite the Grace of Courtesy. It cast another enchantment which I didn’t recognise and I was finally ready to leave, not a moment too soon. All I wanted was to get myself into a hot bath and some clean, dry clothes as soon as possible.

I blinked as I emerged into the hot midday sun outside the Palace. Was it really only lunchtime? After all the hassle of dealing with the Puzzle Canal I felt almost ready for bed already.

I ate my midday meal in Vivec, then went to look for a copy of Progress of Truth in the bookstore belonging to the Khajiit Jobasha. He had a copy, but at a very expensive 150 drakes – then again, it was technically a banned book. And I could always sell that silver shortsword to get some cash. After haggling a little to bring down the price, I reluctantly paid over the money, and then returned to Balmora through the Mages’ Guild guide.

“So,” said Masalinie Merian, when I teleported into the Balmora guild. “This Caius Cosades.”

I frowned. “What about him?”

“People are…” She coughed delicately. “People are saying that you’ve been seen visiting his house quite a few times recently.”

“And?”

“Well, there are rumours that you’re, um… seeing each other.”

“What?” I barked, so loudly that several other mages looked round to see what was going on. “Are you joking?”

“So you’re not, then?”

Sheogorath, I couldn’t believe this. “Of course not!” I gasped. “That skooma-sucking old coot? Are you crazy?”

“Well, I must say that he didn’t seem like your type,” she admitted. “But if you’re not, er… what do you do when you visit his house, then?”

“Well, we… we talk.” To my utter horror, I realised that I was blushing. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ajira and Estirdalin, two of the other mages, exchange knowing glances.

“What about?”

I couldn’t exactly tell her, could I? “Just… stuff.”

“Stuff,” she said, with a nod and a wink. “I see.” Aaaargh!

As if things couldn’t get bad enough, I thought, as I walked to Caius’ house. Not only was I forced to work for this guy on pain of execution, but now the local gossips had started rumours that we were ‘seeing each other’. All too much of each other, no doubt. What had I ever done to deserve this?

Shirtless Wonder greeted me at his door with that smug expression on his face. “Caius,” I snapped, as soon as I was over the threshold. “Did you know that people think we’re sleeping together?”

I saw his lips twitch slightly. “I had heard a few rumours to that effect, yes.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” I was going to kill him.

“Well, what should I have told them?” he asked mildly. “That I’m the Imperial Spymaster for Morrowind and you’re one of my agents?”

“Oh, it’s all right for you, isn’t it?” I huffed. “You come out of this pretty well, don’t you? People think you’re shagging a girl young enough to be your granddaughter. I’m the one everyone thinks is completely insane – ”

“Ada.” He held up a hand. “Did you speak to the informants in Vivec?”

I wrenched out the Progress of Truth book, Huleeya’s notes, and the journal notes I’d made during my conversations with Mehra and Addhiranirr, and flung them down on the table in front of him. “Here’s everything you need. And now I’m leaving, before people can start any more rumours about us!”

“Ada, wait!” he said sharply, as I made for the door.

I swung round, fixing him with a malevolent glare. “What?”

“Thank you for the notes,” he said. “I’m promoting you to Journeyman. You’re doing good work. And here are 200 drakes.” He lobbed me a money pouch, which I caught.

“Oh,” I said. “Well. Thanks.”

“Go out and treat yourself to a new pair of shoes.” He smiled. “And go do some more jobs for the guilds, just to keep your cover story current, then come back in a little while and I’ll have new orders for you.”

Very foolishly, I left the house while still holding the money pouch in my hand. It was just my luck that my old friend Sottilde from the Thieves’ Guild happened to be passing by at that moment.

“Hello, Ada,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Visiting Caius again?” She’d clearly heard the rumours. I tried to conceal the small bag in my hand, but she’d already spotted it, and her mouth dropped open. “He pays you to…?”

“NO! Merciful Gods, no!” This was getting out of hand. I looked around desperately, hoping no one else could hear us. “Look, I’m working for him, all right?”

“Ohhhh,” she said, her eyes widening in sudden understanding. “Is this about the skooma, then?”

Well, it wasn’t a great excuse, but it was better than nothing. I nodded reluctantly, trying my best to look like someone who’d had the truth dragged out of them against their will. “Just keep quiet about it, okay?”

“Well, that explains a lot,” she said, and walked on.

Okay, I thought, something had to be done. There was nothing for it but to leave Balmora until these insane rumours died down. I decided that now might be a good time to throw myself wholeheartedly into my duties for House Redoran.

Neminda greeted me with her usual cheerful smile when I entered the Council Hall in Ald’ruhn. “Hello, Ada. Are you looking for more duties?”

“I was, as a matter of fact.”

She thought for a moment. “Well, I do need someone to deliver a Cure Disease potion to a Redoran outpost.”

Ah, the tried-and-true courier mission. Delivering packages halfway across the country never gets old, I tell you. “Where shall I take it?”

“To Theldyn Virith in Ald Velothi.” I gave her my map so that she could mark the location of the village… right up on the north coast, miles from anywhere. “You can take the silt strider as far as Gnisis, but you’ll have to walk the rest of the way, I’m afraid.”

I suppressed a sigh, hoping I’d at least get some money at the end of this. Neminda either guessed what I was thinking or remembered the mudcrab mission, because she added, “You will not be paid for this, by the way.”

“Oh.”

“If you wish to advance in Redoran, you must be willing to perform tasks for the good of the House, not just for personal gain.”

“All right, I get the – ”

“The warm glow of satisfaction from a job well done should be payment enough.” Okay, now she was just taking the piss.

“Absolutely,” I said with a sigh, as she struggled to hide a smile. “Since I’m not getting paid, would it be alright for me to go on doing jobs for the Fighters’ Guild, and maybe the Legion? I do have to eat, you know.” (Actually I could get free bed and board at the Guilds, but you know what I mean.)

She shrugged. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with your duties to Redoran. The Fighters’ Guild are honourable enough, and I’ve no objection to the Legion – my father was a Legionnaire, actually.”

“Really?” I asked with interest. “Are your family from Cyrodiil, then?”

“No, Hammerfell.”

“Crowns or Forebears?”

“Forebears, of course. My father would hardly have joined the Legion otherwise.” She handed me the Cure Disease potion. “Off you go, then. Good luck.”

I left the Skar building as darkness was falling. As I walked back to the Fighters’ Guild I saw a female Dunmer striding purposefully towards me, and my heart sank as I saw the expression on her face – a distant, glassy stare that was all too familiar. “I am a Sleeper, one among thousands,” she droned, grasping me firmly by the shoulder. “Dagoth Ur calls you, Ada, and you cannot – ”

Oh no, not again! “GET OFF ME!” I shouted, so loudly that several passers-by turned to see what was going on.

A Redoran guard strode up. “Is this woman bothering you, outlander?”

“Just a little,” I said through clenched teeth, trying my best to detach myself from the Sleeper’s grasp. She was still mumbling on as if she hadn’t heard me.

With the help of a couple of passers-by, the guard managed to pull the woman away from me. I glared at her as she stood there, those horrible glassy eyes still fixed unblinkingly on mine. “How does Dagoth Ur know my name? What does he want from me?”

“He is the Lord, and Father of the Mountain,” she said calmly. “He sleeps, but when he wakes, we shall rise from our dreams, shall sweep our land clean of the n’wah. Why have you denied him? As Lord Dagoth has said. ‘All shall greet him as flesh, or as dust.’”

I felt a shudder run down my spine at that last sentence. “Get lost, you crazy b***h.”

Without another word she turned and walked away. I turned back to the guard. “What the hell is going on with these ‘Sleepers’? I’ve seen them in Balmora as well.”

He nodded sombrely. “Some are locals seemingly gone mad, others are strangers we can’t trace. Some of them have been attacking non-Dunmer with clubs. Those we capture alive have complete amnesia, with no idea where they are or what’s going on.”

“What did she mean about ‘sweep our land clean of the n’wah’?

“N’wah is a Dunmer word meaning ‘foreigner’ or ‘slave’,” he said, after a brief hesitation. Ah, so that was what it meant! “It seems these ‘Sleepers’ seek to drive all foreigners out of Morrowind. Be careful around them, outlander.”

“Damn right I will,” I muttered, still a little shaken. Three ‘Sleeper’ encounters within a couple of weeks, in two different cities? This was getting really disturbing. If I didn’t manage to get out of Morrowind soon, I was going to have to start watching my back.

I went to bed that night with a headache, and slept very badly. Yet again I had one of those creepy dreams – or perhaps ‘nightmares’ was a better word – this one even more vivid and frightening than the last. Golden Mask Guy was there again, speaking to me, though I couldn’t understand a word he was saying. His tone seemed pleasant enough, but I got the distinct feeling that he was trying to cast a spell on me.

In the morning I couldn’t remember how the dream ended. I sighed, remembering the dream I’d had on the prison ship while travelling to Morrowind. Why couldn’t I have Mysterious Female Voice back again? I still had no idea who she was, but at least she didn’t scare me the way Golden Mask Guy did.

I was disturbed enough by last night’s Sleeper encounter to go and report it to Caius before starting my Redoran mission – being very careful not to be seen entering his house, of course. He nodded grimly when I described what had happened. “Yes, I’ve heard about these ‘Sleepers’ – there’ve been several attacks recently, and a few foreigners have been killed by them already. Watch yourself, Ada.”

“Do you think they could be something to do with the Sixth House Cult?” I asked.

“Could well be,” he said, nodding. “I’ll try to find out more. Was there anything else?”

I opened my mouth to say “no”, then hesitated. “Well. This is going to sound strange, but… I’ve been having some rather bad dreams.”

Caius looked at me as if I were mad. “Would you like a comfort blanket?”

“No, seriously,” I said. “Really vivid dreams. More like… visions, in fact.”

“Visions?” he said with a sudden frown. “Tell me about it.”

I described the dreams to Caius, and was actually surprised by how much it seemed to worry him. “Not going loopy on me, are you Ada?” he said abruptly. “A word of advice. In Morrowind, if you have disturbing dreams, the Temple says you’re crazy and want to lock you up. And if you have disturbing dreams and think they mean something, then they think you’re a prophet or a witch, and – ”

“…want to lock you up?”

“Exactly. So take my advice, and keep a lid on it.”

“They’re just dreams,” I muttered, a little defensively. “It’s not like I think they’re real or anything. I just wish I could find a way to make them stop.”

“Try a sleeping potion,” he suggested. “When did these dreams start, by the way?”

I paused. “Well… actually I had one on the ship over from the mainland, but it was different to the others. Just some woman talking about how I’d ‘been chosen’ for something or other.”

“‘Chosen’, eh?” he said, looking hard at me. “Interesting. Very interesting.”

I couldn’t be bothered to ask what he meant, since I knew by now that I wouldn’t get a satisfactory answer. I was just about to leave when I thought of something else. “Oh, Caius? One more thing. Have you heard anything more about the… unrest… in the Imperial City?”

He shook his head, looking grave. “Nothing much. There haven’t been any more riots, but things are still tense. I’ve heard mutterings about recalling the Legions if things get much worse.”

Recalling the Legions? Good Gods, things had to be really bad if they were considering something as drastic as that. Caius looked closely at me, seeing the concern in my face. “You got family back in the City?”

“Yeah,” I said, trying not to look as upset as I actually felt.

“So have I,” he said quietly.

Both of us were silent for a moment. “I am going back, you know,” I said at last, glaring at him.

Caius shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll decide you like Morrowind better.”

“What?” I let out a snort of laughter, almost forgetting about the Imperial City riots for a moment. “Yeah, right.”

“You never know,” he said with a wink. “Now get working on that cover story.” I threw him one last dirty look and stalked out of the house, shaking my head. Decide of my own free will to stay in Morrowind, land of ash storms and kamikaze birds and evil immortal beings living inside volcanoes? He had to be joking.

[D.Foxy]

“Hello, Ada,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Visiting Caius again?” She’d clearly heard the rumours. I tried to conceal the small bag in my hand, but she’d already spotted it, and her mouth dropped open. “He pays you to…?”

I ROFLd then as I ROFL now!!!


And, as in the original, may I suggest to Ada, Confucious - style "It not wise for woman involved in rumours of dirty acts with old man to give dirty looks to same!"

[treydog]

(“A fine day to you, Mr. Ordinator! Just minding my own business here, not doing anything heretical!”)

There were (as usual) many wonderful “Ada” moments- the conversation with Mehra, and Ada’s inner thoughts, for example.

The conversation with Krazzt was wonderfully wry.

The part that caused outright snortling was the Mages’ misunderstanding of Ada and Caius’ “relationship.”

Shirtless Wonder greeted me at his door with that smug expression on his face.

And then, the crowning brilliance of having Sottilde “catch” Ada stepping out of Caius’ door with a bag of gold.

You capture very effectively the creepiness of the Sleepers and the dreams.

Decide of my own free will to stay in Morrowind, land of ash storms and kamikaze birds and evil immortal beings living inside volcanoes? He had to be joking.

You have such a wonderful facility for weaving humor in with the serious elements of the main quest- an admirable talent.

[mALX]

Foxy already quoted my fave line!!! I love every scene that involves (or even remotely relates to) Ada/Caius !!!

This post has been edited by mALX: Oct 9 2010, 04:14 PM

[Helena]

Chapter 12: You’re In The Army Now

I didn’t want to delay my Redoran mission any longer, as I could imagine that whoever needed the Cure Disease potion was feeling pretty miserable right now. I returned to Ald’ruhn and bought passage on that evening’s silt strider to Gnisis, hoping fervently that we wouldn’t run into any ash storms along the way.

Just around dawn we arrived in Gnisis, a large village in the West Gash. It was surrounded by mountains and built in the same style as Ald’ruhn, though I could see the stone towers of an Imperial fortress in the distance. The caravaner told me that many Gnisis citizens were ‘Velothi’, the descendants of Ashlanders who had abandoned their nomadic lifestyles and settled in the area.

Two more of the Temple pilgrimage sites could be found near to Gnisis: the Shrine of Justice in the Gnisis Temple itself, and the Shrine of Valour in the Koal Cave a short way south. I decided to visit the Temple now and the other shrine when I returned from Ald Velothi. The Shrine of Justice required a Cure Common Disease potion as a donation; luckily I always carried a spare one with me on my travels, just in case. After visiting the shrine and stopping by the tradehouse for some breakfast and supplies, I left for Ald Velothi on foot.

I wasn’t too pleased at the thought of yet more walking, but the journey went reasonably smoothly up until I was quite close to Ald Velothi. Then I rounded a corner and came upon an attractive Breton woman (why is it always Bretons?) standing by the side of a small pool and looking vaguely flustered and helpless. Glutton for punishment that I am, I stopped to ask if I could help.

“Why, thank you, m’lady,” she simpered. “You see, I dropped my ring and I just can’t seem to find it. I think it must have rolled down into this pool here.” She pointed down into the murky water.

I suppose I ought to have known something was wrong when she called me ‘m’lady’ rather than the usual ‘miss’ or ‘madam’, but right now I had other things on my mind. “Look, I don’t mean to be unkind,” I said with a sigh, “but I’m on a fairly urgent mission right now. Is there any reason why you can’t go in there and get it yourself?”

She blushed. “I can’t go in to get it because I am expected at the keep shortly. You see, I’m a... dancer...and I can’t very well smell like muckwater now can I?” I raised my eyebrows. “Please could you get it for me? I’d be forever in your debt.”

I was tempted to tell her to speak to me next time she had a real problem, but I was in a relatively good mood that day and kindness won out. “Well, okay,” I said, after a moment’s hesitation. “I can’t stay too long, but I’ll have a look for you.”

I removed my boots, rolled up my sleeves and the legs of my pants and waded into the muddy water. For a minute or so I wandered around the pool, until at last I felt something small and hard touch my foot. I bent down and scrabbled around in the silt, finally managing to retrieve the ring. “Ta-da!” I exclaimed, holding it up high. “Here’s your ring, Miss – ”

She interrupted me with a harsh laugh. “No good deed goes unpunished, outlander!”

Moments later I heard the unmistakeable thwack of an arrow against my helmet – which, luckily, I’d kept on. If I hadn’t, I’d probably have been killed then and there.

I leapt aside, raising my shield to block the arrows as another one whizzed past my head. The Breton rushed at me with her dagger drawn, but I was ready for her and caught her a heavy blow across the ribs. As she staggered back, screaming, I shoved her down into the water before turning to look for the archer. No one was there.

I rushed forward, zigzagging to try and avoid the arrows, and ran straight into an invisible figure standing in front of me in the path. Since I couldn’t see him/her at all, I could only slash around wildly with my sword in the hope of hitting something important. When my opponent finally fell dead, and the enchantment faded to reveal a Dunmer woman in light armour, the results were not pretty.

So much for helping people, I thought with a sigh. I couldn’t see why they’d even bothered with the whole ‘ring’ business if their only intent was to rob me and kill me. As I bent to examine the woman’s body, I noticed that she was wearing an amulet with a very powerful Chameleon enchantment, engraved with the words ‘Amulet of Shadows’. I don’t usually like to steal from my fallen foes, but this was simply too useful to pass up, so I took it and slipped it around my own neck before continuing on my way.

On reaching Ald Velothi, a tiny coastal village that was really no more than a hamlet, I delivered the Cure Disease potion to Theldyn Virith, the local Redoran sheriff. As I left the outpost, I heard a couple of locals discussing some rogue Ashlanders who’d set up camp nearby. “They took Madura Seran!” one of them exclaimed. “She was but a simple pilgrim. Someone needs to rescue her.”

Ah, now this sounded a bit more like it. When I asked if I could help, they directed me to the Ashlander camp on top of the hill. I walked to the camp, where a man and a woman in rather bizarre clothing were standing outside a large tent. “Excuse me,” I said to the woman, hoping she understood Tamrielic. “Would you be Ashlanders, by any chance?”

She gave me a distinctly unfriendly look. “Yes, I am Rawia Ashirbibi, wise-woman of my Ashlander tribe.”

“Would you happen to know anything about a kidnapped pilgrim?”

She pointed towards the tent. “You will have to talk to Abassel. He’s inside.”

I entered the yurt, where a frightened-looking Dunmer woman was sitting on a bedroll, guarded by a male Ashlander. “Are you Madura Seran?” I asked her.

She nodded, too afraid to speak. I turned to the man. “Why have you kidnapped her? What do you want?”

“So, this pilgrim has value?” he said with a grin. “I will give her to you for 500 drakes.”

I didn’t want to start a fight, but I don’t approve of paying ransoms to kidnappers – it only encourages them. “Give me some time to think about it,” I told him, and left the camp.

We Imperials like to say that we always prefer to handle things non-violently if possible (though I must admit that our massive continent-spanning army makes this slightly suspect). Regardless, one of our inborn ‘racial powers’ – in addition to the Charm spell I’d used for my final Hlaalu mission – is the ‘Star of the West’, a handy stamina-draining spell that can be used to knock someone out quickly and cleanly. After a few minutes’ thought I slipped on the Amulet of Shadows and cast the enchantment, then returned to the camp and re-entered the tent I’d just left. Inside, I quickly cast the Star of the West spell on Abassel and watched him slide to the ground before Madura’s astonished eyes.

“Shhh,” I whispered, as she shrank back in fear. “It’s only me. I’ll be back in a minute.”

I slipped back out through the tent flap and crept up behind the male Ashlander warrior, then raised my sword and struck him as hard as I could on the head with the flat of the blade. He fell to the ground unconscious with no more than a grunt. Unfortunately this alerted the wise-woman, whom I probably ought to have attacked first, as the ‘wise’ part turned out to be all too accurate. After staring at her companion’s body for a couple of seconds, she realised what was going on, and instantly flung a bolt of magicka in my direction.

I didn’t have time to dodge the blast, and a moment later I felt my knees buckle under the crushing weight of a Burden spell. It wouldn’t incapacitate me completely, but it would keep me rooted to the spot. I tried not to panic as I realised that the Chameleon spell would wear off within seconds, leaving me exposed and helpless. Since I wasn’t close enough to the woman to attack her with my sword, my only option was to quickly take down the bow I carried and fire off an arrow.

I’m not that great a shot at the best of times, and my hastily-fired arrow only managed to hit her in the arm. She let out a cry of agony and stumbled back a few steps, clutching her arm, until my second poorly-aimed shot whizzed past her ear. Finally realising that she didn’t have much chance against an invisible archer, she turned and fled.

Once the Ashlander woman was out of sight, I dashed into the tent and grabbed Madura by the arm. “Come on, let’s get of here. Follow me.”

We ran back to the village together, only stopping for breath when we were inside the Redoran outpost. “Thank you, outlander,” Madura wheezed, as I handed her my water canteen. “I’m very grateful to you.”

Theldyn Virith was quite impressed as well. “I believe the Imperial Legion was planning to send agents to rescue Madura,” he told me. “I will write a message for you to take to General Darius, the fort commander, telling him that it’s no longer necessary. Perhaps he may reward you.”

There was no inn in Ald Velothi, but one of the locals very kindly offered to put me up for the night after hearing how I rescued Madura. Unfortunately, whilst staying there I must somehow have contracted the disease that had been troubling people in the village – because next morning, as I was walking back to Gnisis, I started to feel seriously ill.

It began with a mild headache and sore throat, both of which grew steadily worse. An hour or so later, when I stopped to rest and eat, I found myself coughing and feeling unusually chilly. Another hour and the chills had turned to a raging heat, which had me gulping water from my canteen as if I’d just run a mile. I fumbled in my pack for a Cure Disease potion, and realised to my horror that I’d forgotten to buy another one after the Gnisis pilgrimage.

I struggled on for half a mile or so, but it was useless; soon I was feeling so fevered and weak that I simply couldn’t go any further. I sank to the ground, coughing heavily and violently cursing my own idiocy. I’m going to die here, I thought. Five years of battling monsters, bandits, necromancers and even Daedra, and I’m going to die of a common disease – just a few miles from the nearest town – because I was too stupid to keep myself properly supplied with potions.

I don’t remember much of what I thought after that. I’m not even sure how long I lay there, drifting in and out of consciousness and hawking up various unpleasant bodily fluids. Someone must have been watching over me, though, because no storms blew up, and I wasn’t robbed by bandits or attacked by wild animals.

In the early evening I woke to find myself lying in a pool of muddy water, drizzly rain pattering down on my face. I still felt like utter crap, but the fever had broken and I was just about able to stand and walk. After refilling my water canteen at a dirty stream, I tried to eat some food, but only managed to swallow a few mouthfuls before throwing up.

I was just wondering how the hell I was going to get back to Gnisis when I remembered what I’d been too ill to think of earlier in the day: my Almsivi Intervention scrolls. It says a lot about how rotten I was feeling that I didn’t even have the energy to be annoyed with myself.

When I re-materialised in the Gnisis temple courtyard, one of my heavy coughing fits attracted the attention of a passer-by, who looked at me in horror. “Please kill me,” I croaked.

She shook her head impatiently. “Don’t be foolish, outlander. You have a common disease, that’s all. Go and find a healer before you infect others.”

I staggered into the Temple, where the resident healer took one look at me and immediately backed away. “Oh, dear.” He cast a Cure Disease spell from a safe distance, and I instantly felt all the symptoms vanish like – well, magic.

“Thank you so much,” I said gratefully. “You have no idea what it was like trying to walk back from Ald Velothi in that state.”

He frowned. “You walked back from Ald Velothi? Why did you not go to Khuul?”

“Cool?” I mumbled, searching for a piece of rag to wipe my nose on.

“Here, I will show you on your map.” He placed a small dot to mark the location of Khuul, a short way up the coast from Ald Velothi. “There is a silt strider there that could have carried you to Gnisis.”

I don’t think I actually have words to express what I was feeling at that moment. In the event it’s probably a good thing I didn’t, as it would almost certainly have got me arrested.

By this point I was so utterly filthy that I didn’t even want to enter the tradehouse, in case I was mistaken for a tramp and thrown out. Instead, I went straight down to the river and simply stripped off my armour and waded in. The water wasn’t particularly clean, but at least it would wash away some of the grime – and the smell.

It wasn’t until I heard a voice calling to me that I saw the man standing a short way upstream. He was waist-deep in the water and shivering. “You okay?” I asked, wading towards him.

He shook his head angrily. “Hainab stole my pants!”

“What?”

“I said, he stole my pants!” The man scowled. “My name is Hentus Yansurnummu. I was just taking a bath and Hainab Lasamsi came along and stole my pants. I can’t come out of the water until I have them back!”

Young men, eh? I sighed. “Well, I guess I could talk to him, but first I need to go to the tradehouse and change, and have a bath. Or possibly three.”

“Could you not go to him first, outlander? I am freezing!”

“I am not going to wander around the village looking like this,” I told him, hands on hips.

Hentus glared at me, muttering something about ‘Imperials’ under his breath. I was rapidly losing patience with this guy. “Do you want those pants, or not? Because I’m having a really bad day, and frankly, you can stand here in the river all night for all I care.”

I waited for him to mumble an apology and then, after squeezing the water out of my clothes as best I could, left for the tradehouse. I really, really wanted to get myself properly clean, but out of kindness to Hentus I held off taking a bath for the moment. After changing into clean, dry clothes and tidying myself up a bit, I went to one of the open-air stalls just outside the inn and bought some cheap cotton pants that were roughly his size. I wasn’t about waste time searching the village for this Hainab person.

Was Hentus grateful? Was he hell. “Those aren’t my pants,” he said, when I offered them to him. “Hainab Lasamsi has my pants.”

“They are now,” I told him, trying to keep my patience. “I am donating them to you out of the kindness of my heart.”

“I want my own pants back.”

I don’t think anyone has ever come so close to being strangled with a pair of pants. “Go and get them yourself then!”

“I can’t. I am naked below the waist.”

“Okay,” I said slowly and clearly, as if addressing a very stupid child. “But if you put on these pants which I have brought you, you will no longer be naked below the waist, and you will then be able to go to Hainab and ask him to return your pants. Correct?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” I roared.

Hentus lowered his eyes. “I am afraid of him.”

Oh, for Mara’s sake. I stomped out of the water and back into the village, where one of the traders told me where to find Hainab Lasamsi. I didn’t waste any time trying to sweeten him up; I just marched straight up to him and grabbed him by the shoulder.

“You stole my friend Hentus’ pants,” I said. “I have just been through the most hellish day of my entire life, and I am not a happy mudcrab. Give them back now or I will kill you.”

I didn’t mean it, of course, but Hainab seemed sufficiently unnerved by the crazy Imperial woman to hand over the pants straight away. I took them back to Hentus, who was, surprisingly, quite grateful. He even gave me some Hackle-Lo as a reward (I was beginning to wonder if this was what they used as the local currency before the Empire came along).

It was getting dark by now, and I was far too tired to think about trying to join the Legion that evening. Instead, following a bath, a hot meal and several glasses of ale, I went straight to bed. I hadn’t had any more dreams about mask-wearing, loincloth-sporting madmen the previous night, and I hoped that they were gone for good.

After breakfast the next day I found the local Legion commander, General Darius – he had his offices in the tradehouse, as it happened – and handed him the note from Theldyn Virith. He read it through and gave a pleased grunt. “Sounds like you got what we need here at the Legion, young lady. You ever thought of joining up?”

“I’ve thought about it,” I said hesitantly, “but I don’t have the time to be a full-time Legionnaire. I already work for the Fighters’ Guild and House Redoran, you see.”

Darius rubbed his chin. “Well, maybe we can find you some other work. You up for it? Or do you want to hear what we’re all about first?”

I was pretty sure I knew what the Legion was ‘all about’, having grown up in the heart of the Empire, but I nodded anyway. “Your duties are to the Empire and to your commanding officers - in that order,” he told me. “Carry yourself with dignity and uphold the law; you are the face of the Empire to the common man. Respect all members of the Imperial Legion. Do you swear to adhere to what I have stated?”

I took the oath, refraining for once from making any sarcastic comments. I knew that discipline in the Legion was a lot stricter than in any of the Guilds. Seconds later, Darius announced that I was now a Recruit in the Imperial Legion.

“You’ll have to stay in uniform, so take this,” he said, handing me a chain cuirass with Imperial insignia. “You better be wearing a Legion cuirass of some kind in the presence of a higher ranking member.”

My heart immediately sank, not because I minded being in uniform, but because I didn’t really like chainmail armour. It was a lot lighter and more mobile than iron or steel, but not nearly as good in terms of protection. Still, it wasn’t like I had much choice.

“Ready for orders, Recruit?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Well, first off, let’s see if you truly are loyal to our cause here in Morrowind. There’s a little issue of a land deed here in Gnisis I need you to take care of.”

“Sir?” This wasn’t exactly what I’d been expecting.

“Mansilamat Vabdas is a miner who died recently,” Darius continued. “He was survived by his wife, who now owns a parcel of land we could use for another dock. Talk to the Widow Vabdas and get the deed to her land. Don’t take ‘no’ for an answer – get me that land deed!”

Such tact and sensitivity, I thought. No wonder the Empire’s provinces welcomed the conquering Legions with open arms, singing hymns of praise and strewing rose petals beneath our feet.

After selling my own steel cuirass to the local smith – I didn’t have much use for it now, after all – I set out on my rather unpleasant errand, finding the Widow Vabdas’ hut a short distance from the village. As I had rather expected, she was anything but pleased to see me – but what I really hadn’t expected was the reason why.

The moment I mentioned the land deed, her ashy skin turned pale with rage. “My husband was murdered by a Legionnaire, and now you come asking for his land? You will never get his land. I will fight you, and all of Gnisis will fight you, until all you foreigners leave us in peace. Now get out of my house!”

“Hey, wait a minute!” Darius hadn’t mentioned anything about a murder. “You think a Legionnaire killed your husband?”

She nodded angrily. “My husband went to the eggmine and never came home. He – ”

“Eggmine?”

“Yes, the eggmine! The one on the hill on the east side of town!” She looked at me as if I were an idiot. “He knew the mine was closed by you foreigners and guarded by the Legions, but we had no fresh kwama eggs. If you want to help me, go the mines and find out the truth!”

I didn’t know what to say. I knew perfectly well that not all Legionnaires – or perhaps even most – always lived up to the code of conduct that Darius had recited to me, but I couldn’t believe they would kill an innocent miner just for trying to feed his family. Or perhaps I just didn’t want to believe it.

“Okay, I’ll help you,” I said softly, hoping to calm her down a little. “I… can’t believe a Legionnaire would murder your husband. There must be some other explanation.”

The widow just snorted and turned her back to me. I decided I’d better inform the General of her accusations against the Legion, as he didn’t seem to know anything about it. Of course, I had to face a much more unpleasant possibility – that he did know about it, and didn’t care.

“Well, Recruit?” barked Darius, when I entered his office in the tradehouse. “Did you speak to the Widow Vabdas?”

“Yes, sir!”

“And do you have the land deed?”

“No, sir!”

“What part of ‘Bring me the land deed’ did you not understand, soldier?”

I took a deep breath. “She thinks the Legion murdered her husband, sir.”

Darius seemed slightly rattled by this. “Murdered? She said that, did she?” He paused. “Well, you’d better go and investigate. Search the mine, and if you find evidence he was murdered, don’t come back until you can bring me proof.”

“Sir.” I was relieved that he seemed to be taking the matter seriously, rather than dismissing it out of hand. That said, I was still confused – not least by the very idea of an eggmine. How could you mine eggs?

The entrance to the mine was half-way up a cliffside, and only reachable by means of a narrow mountain pass. It was guarded by a single very bored-looking Dunmer Legionnaire, who stepped in front of the door as I drew closer. “Halt! The mine is closed, Recruit.”

“I’m here to investigate a murder,” I said. “General Darius’ orders.”

“A murder?” He looked skeptical, but finally relented. “Well, since you’re in the Legion, I’ll let you in. But be careful – the queen is blighted.”

Was that some kind of code? “Um… the queen is blighted?”

“The kwama queen, I mean.” He smiled at the look of bewilderment on my face. “Never been in an eggmine before, have you?”

“I haven’t,” I admitted. “I hate to sound ignorant, but… what the heck is an eggmine?”

“The kwama live inside the mines,” he explained. “The queen lays eggs, and the miners harvest the eggs and protect the colony from poachers and predators. You’d better be careful when you go in there – the kwama workers won’t harm you, but the foragers and warriors may attack you if they don’t recognise your scent.”

“How do I tell the difference?”

“You’ll know when they start trying to kill you,” he said with a grin. Oh, very helpful.

I took the key from the guard and cautiously entered the mine. It was well-lit by torches, but only a few miners and guards patrolled the upper level; I noticed that most of the guards were Orcs, like those in the village. As I made my way through the mine, I was attacked by several creatures resembling very large worms, which hurled themselves against my legs and squirted a nasty green substance at me. Luckily my armour protected me, and they were easy enough to kill.

At last I found a door leading to the lower level of the mine, which was closed due to the kwama queen’s sickness. The moment I entered, a hefty-looking Orc guard strode towards me with a distinctly threatening gait.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he growled. “I’m gonna count to ten. And if you’re still here when I’m done, you’re gonna be in big trouble.”

“Hold on a minute,” I said. “I was sent here by General Darius. He’s asked me to investigate a mur- ”

The guard didn’t wait for me to finish; the moment he heard the word ‘murder’ he lunged at me, brandishing an axe. I dodged his clumsy swing and grabbed my sword, preparing for a fight – but as it turned out, it wasn’t him I needed to worry about.

Suddenly I heard a loud growl from further down the cavern, and heavy footsteps pounding towards us. The Orc lowered his axe and swung round, cursing loudly. “Damn kwama warriors! Now look what you’ve – ”

His voice was cut off as two huge beasts bounded out of the passageway behind him, barrelling into him and sending him sprawling to the ground. I shrieked as one of them leapt at me, butting its head into my stomach with such force that I was almost knocked backwards myself. As I lashed at its tough hide with my blade, the horrible thing blasted me with shock magicka, and I felt its huge talons rip through the mail on my chest. The pain was so hideous that I nearly dropped my sword.

For the second time in the past two days, I honestly thought for a few moments that I was going to die. If the second kwama warrior hadn’t been too busy mauling the Orc to worry about me, I might not have made it. As it was, a well-placed blow from my sword managed to take off the first warrior’s head before it could do any more damage, and I was able to lop off the second one’s head from behind before it spotted me. With the mental focus that comes from pure terror, I cast the only healing spell I knew, and sagged with relief as I felt my wounds close up and the pain fade away.

I checked the Orc’s mangled body for a pulse, but he was already dead. Looks like I’ve probably found our murderer, I thought, remembering how he’d reacted when mentioned the word to him. But how was I going to find any proof now?

Down the passageway I could see a huge, bloated insect-like creature surrounded by egg sacs, presumably the kwama queen. It was buzzing angrily, so I decided to leave it well alone. I searched the guardsman’s body and the bedroll where he slept, but they were annoyingly devoid of helpful clues such as a note saying “Yes, I killed the miner. May the Divines have mercy on my soul.” My only chance now was to find Vabdas’ body and hope that it had some axe-marks on it.

I made my way through a second door into a dimly-lit passage, close to an underground stream. As I rounded a corner, I found myself standing by a deep pool and – to my horror – a ghost similar to the one I’d seen while robbing that enchanter’s tomb, hovering by the waterside. I hastily backed away, conscious that my steel blade couldn’t do anything to harm a ghost, but it didn’t seem to want to attack me.

“Do not fear me, Imperial,” it said in a quavering, echoey voice. “Listen, and I will tell you how I was murdered by Lugrub gro-Ogdum.”

“Okay,” I said nervously. “Whatever you say.”

“I came to the mines to get fresh kwama eggs for my family,” he whispered. “Lugrub gro-Ogdum was sleeping, and I snuck past him. When I came back he was awake, and he murdered me so that no one would know he failed his duty. He dropped the broken axe he used next to my body in the water behind me.”

I edged my way over to the pool and peered down into the water. It was still and clear, and I could see a body lying at the bottom – presumably Vabdas’. “Take the axe from the water behind me as proof of Lugrub’s crimes,” the ghost whispered in my ear. “Do not let them take my lands. Avenge my death and let my wife live in peace.”

I didn’t know if I could trust him, but I wasn’t in any mood to argue with a ghost. I removed my armour – noticing that the mail was ripped and my shirt soaked in blood – and dived into the pool, wishing I knew a Water Breathing spell. The head of Lugrub’s axe was lying on the bottom by Vabdas’ body. It took me a few tries to reach it, but I finally managed to grab hold of it and make my way back to the surface just as I felt my lungs were about to burst.

The ghost had vanished. I left the mine as quickly as possible and made my way back to the tradehouse, hoping the axe-head and Vabdas’ dead body would be evidence enough for Darius. “I saw a ghost” probably wasn’t going to cut it.

“What the hell happened to you, Recruit?” Darius snapped when he saw my dripping-wet clothes and hair. “Fall into the river?”

“No, sir,” I said. “I found out who murdered the widow’s husband, sir – it was an Orc named Lugrub gro-Odgum.”

“And do you have any proof?”

“Well, I spoke with the ghost of Vabdas – ”

“I don’t care if you saw the ghost of Tiber Septim!” he exclaimed. “I can’t tell the Legion officers in Cyrodiil that I condemned a soldier to death because you talked to a ghost!”

I decided to get straight to the point. “He’s already dead, sir. He attacked me as soon as I saw him.”

I explained what had happened, and showed Darius the axe-head. “Hmph. Yes, this is Lugrub’s axe,” he said. “And I can see how it’s been damaged from hitting bone here and here. You say he’s already dead?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Then justice has been served,” he said with a sigh. “Let’s hope this doesn’t do too much damage to the reputation of the Legion.”

“Ah, sir,” I said hesitantly. “About the land deed…?”

He shook his head. “I won’t try and get her land. Not after what happened.”

Relieved, I went to my room to change and eat and then went out to Widow Vabdas’ hut to tell her the news. When I returned, I found that the story had spread around the village and some of the other Legionnaires were making a fund for the widow. “Would you like to contribute?” one of them asked me.

I gladly handed over 50 septims, feeling for the first time that I truly belonged in the Legion after all. Maybe this would show the people of Gnisis that we weren’t all bad. Unfortunately, it was too late for the Widow Vabdas; no amount of money would ever bring her husband back to her.

There’s someone who’ll never be saluting the Dragon banner, I thought with a sigh. Since coming to Morrowind, I was gradually starting to comprehend what I’d never really understood growing up in Cyrodiil – why the people of the Empire’s provinces resented the Legions so much. After all, we were just there to keep the peace and uphold the law. Weren’t we?

[D.Foxy]

Instead, I went straight down to the river and simply stripped off my armour and waded in....


“I am not going to wander around the village looking like this,” I told him, hands on hips.


Oh, Helena, Helena...



Many eons ago on the other forum I pointed this out.

So she STRIPS OFF and gets into the water...and then she talks to a MAN with her hands on her hips...???







If she's the slightest bit busty she would be shoving her puppies in his face, and if I was Hainab I would be pointing my sword towardsw heaven.

[Helena]

Well, she was wearing clothes underneath... and in any case, given how long he'd been standing there in the freezing water, I doubt that would be a problem.

[Captain Hammer]

Hm, cold bath indeed.

I've just started reading this, and must agree that the off-beat, snark-filled tone and practical determination of Ada is absolutely delightful.

Wonderful stuff.

Though, even in the equivalent of a Tamriel bathing suit, our pants-less friend might have some pleasant thoughts for himself over the next few nights...

[mALX]

Well, she was wearing clothes underneath... and in any case, given how long he'd been standing there in the freezing water, I doubt that would be a problem.

Like a frightened turtle!

[treydog]

So much for helping people, I thought with a sigh. I couldn’t see why they’d even bothered with the whole ‘ring’ business if their only intent was to rob me and kill me.

An interesting point- the Breton would actually have a better chance of planting her dagger in your back if she stayed close by. Maybe she didn’t trust her invisible friend’s aim….

We Imperials like to say that we always prefer to handle things non-violently if possible (though I must admit that our massive continent-spanning army makes this slightly suspect).

It’s only violence when other people do it.

It says a lot about how rotten I was feeling that I didn’t even have the energy to be annoyed with myself.

That is the Ada we all love so well.

And you nail that small omission by Neminda- the fact that there is strider service to Khuul.

I don’t think anyone has ever come so close to being strangled with a pair of pants. “Go and get them yourself then!”

“I have just been through the most hellish day of my entire life, and I am not a happy mudcrab. Give them back now or I will kill you.”

Ah, diplomacy.

Such tact and sensitivity, I thought. No wonder the Empire’s provinces welcomed the conquering Legions with open arms, singing hymns of praise and strewing rose petals beneath our feet.

Ada’s reaction to discovering the source of kwama eggs was priceless.

And the ending was quite poignant.

[Helena]

Chapter 13: Death And Taxes

Darius rewarded me for my help by promoting me to Trooper, and gave me a fine steel tower shield from the Legion’s armoury. I’d really have preferred a new cuirass, but I certainly wasn’t complaining, especially since I could make a decent amount of gold by selling the old shield. He also gave me my next orders: go back to the eggmine and cure the infected queen of Blight disease so that the mine could be reopened.

I did have slightly more skill in Restoration than other forms of magic, so I thought of learning a Cure Blight spell myself, but I couldn’t find anyone to teach me one. Instead I bought some spell scrolls from the Redoran village steward, making a mental note to ask about spells next time I was back in Ald’ruhn (apart from anything else, I really didn’t want a repeat of yesterday’s ‘adventure’ next time I was out in the wilderness). I went back to the part of the mine where I’d seen the kwama queen, and cast the spell scroll from what I hoped was a safe distance. The angry buzzing subsided a little, so I assumed she’d been cured – no doubt it would be easy for the miners to tell.

Just as I was about to leave the mine, I spotted a narrow passage leading off to the left from the queen’s ‘chamber’. Wondering what was down there, I followed the passage and came across another small wooden door set into the rock. I opened the door a little way so that I could peer through, and gasped in amazement at what I saw.

The inside of this part of the cave looked exactly like Arkngthand, the Dwemer ruin near Fort Moonmoth: sheet-metal flooring, and the walls lined with pipes and those weird glass-tube lamps. On a rusty iron table near the entrance was a heavy-looking book titled Divine Metaphysics, and some plans for what looked like an airship. I carefully opened the book and leafed through the first few pages, but the writing was all in Dwemeris and I couldn’t understand a word of it. A book like this had to be incredibly valuable – if you could find the right buyer.

Further into the cave was a bubbling pool of lava set into the metal floor. As I drew closer the heat became almost unbearable, to the point where I had to take off my cuirass before I could go any further. I edged round the side of the pool, trying to get closer to the strange metal object lying beside it.

The thing was one of the strangest Dwemer devices I had ever seen: a sort of statue, vaguely human-shaped but made entirely out of golden metal. It had a trunk, legs, a ‘head’, and an arm with a huge spiked club welded to the end where its hand ought to be. Lying face-down on the ground with its arms splayed out, it looked for all the world as if it was dead. I felt shivers down my spine just looking at it.

At that moment it occurred to me that I probably wasn’t supposed to be there, and that someone could come in and find me at any minute. I hastily left the cavern, informed one of the miners that the queen was cured, and went back to Darius to tell him the good news.

“Good,” he said briskly. “Take these 100 drakes as a reward. Now just what the devil have you been doing to your uniform, Trooper?”

Startled, I looked down at my torn cuirass. I’d forgotten how it had got ripped when I was attacked in the mine. “Sorry, sir,” I said, embarrassed. “It was the kwama warriors in the eggmine.”

“Hmph. Well, you’re a good soldier; maybe you should have a better one.” He left the room for a couple of minutes and came back with – joy of joys – a Legion steel cuirass. I breathed in deeply as he handed it over to me; ever since I was a child I’d dreamed of wearing one of these. I held it with trembling hands, admiring the fine steelwork and beautiful decorative plating on the front, until the General told me to stop gawping and get back to work.

I was very hungry by now, so I decided to rest and eat before doing any more missions. By the time I left the tradehouse, the villagers had heard about the mine being re-opened, and I found I was a minor local celebrity. Even those who hadn’t heard the news seemed to be looking at me with newfound respect, now that I wore a Legion uniform. If I’d realised the benefits of joining the Legion back in Cyrodiil, I’d have joined long ago.

After dinner I went back to Darius to ask if he had any more orders for me. He told me that the Legion’s tax collector, Ragash gra-Shuzgub, had vanished during a visit to Arvs Drelen, the Velothi tower on the outskirts of town. “Who lives there?” I asked.

“Baladas Demnevanni, a rogue Telvanni wizard. Came here over twenty years ago and set himself up in Arvs Drelen.” He shook his head. “Be careful around old Baladas, Trooper. He’s been no trouble so far, but I don’t trust him.”

I’d got the impression that Gnisis was Redoran territory, so I wondered why they allowed a Telvanni wizard to live there. Perhaps the Council in Ald’ruhn simply couldn’t face the hassle of trying to have him turfed out.

I went straight over to the old Velothi tower, a round building constructed in a similar style to the Temple. It certainly looked out of place among the Redoran-style buildings of the village. Inside, the place appeared deserted, but a short way along the first corridor I found a door leading to an underground cell. The iron bars on the door and windows allowed the jailer a full view of the tiny room.

A glum-looking female Orc in a Legion uniform sat on a hammock inside the cell. When she saw me, she waved frantically as if she were afraid I wouldn’t notice her there. “Hey! Baladas Demnevanni locked me up in here. Can you get me out?”

I messed around with the lock on the cell door for a minute or two, but soon realised that it was far beyond my lock-picking skills (and even further beyond my Alteration skills). “Wait here for a moment,” I told her, “and I’ll look for a key.”

At the top of a ramp on the other side of the passage was a wooden door. I pressed my ear against it to listen for anyone – or anything – that might be inside, then knocked cautiously. No one answered.

I pushed open the door – it wasn’t locked, surprisingly enough – and found myself in what was clearly a bedroom. Lying on a small bedside table, next to a copy of The Wolf Queen, Book V, was a key which obviously belonged to some sort of door. Surely it couldn’t be that easy?

I took the key and returned to Ragash’s cell to try it in the lock, but I couldn’t make it fit. “Damn,” I announced. “This isn’t the right key. Do you know where Baladas is now?”

She jabbed a finger upwards towards the ceiling. “Up there someplace. I just came to collect taxes as I was told, and he lock me up in this room!”

Poor Ragash; it was clear that she wasn’t particularly bright, even by Orc standards. I could just imagine her stubbornly demanding the taxes from Baladas, not realising that there are times when it’s best just to let these things go. It wouldn’t surprise me if some smartarse in the Legion had deliberately chosen her for the task.

I made my way through the winding corridors of Arvs Drelen, ignoring the interesting noises coming from some of the doors I passed (just what the hell was this wizard keeping as pets?), and finally reached another locked door leading to an upper level. I tried the key again, and this time it actually fit – probably a good thing, as I could see that the door was enchanted with some kind of magical trap to deter intruders.

As the door swung open I heard a deep growl, and found myself facing one of the crocodile-headed Daedra known as a Daedroth. I leapt backwards with a gasp, grabbing my sword, but amazingly enough the thing didn’t seem interested in attacking me. It just paced around the room, growling and waving its arms around in a vaguely threatening manner.

Very, very carefully, I inched my way across the room – staying as far away from the horrible beast as possible – and up the next flight of stairs to the top level of Arvs Drelen. This was a large workroom of some kind, containing several cupboards, bookshelves and tables covered in clutter. There was no one in sight, but in one corner was a large, gold-plated metal sphere that seemed somehow familiar.

I took a few steps towards the strange object, then let out a small screech of fear as it suddenly rolled over – entirely of its own accord – and began to unfold itself. Within seconds it had taken on the shape of that weird metal ‘man’ I had seen in the eggmine, only this one was… alive. I stared at it, paralysed with horror, as it rolled back and forth across the ground with a faint whirring sound. What the bloody hell?

Clockwork, I told myself, trying to stay calm and ignore my frantically-thumping heart. Clockwork and… magic of some kind. Had to be. At least it didn’t seem to be trying to kill me, though it was a full minute before I dared move again for fear of ‘upsetting’ the strange mechanical creature.

Once I’d managed to convince myself that the thing was harmless, I relaxed a little and began to examine the room more closely. It was littered with the tools of the wizard’s trade – full and empty bottles, alembics, bizarre alchemical ingredients, and books. Lots and lots of books.

I took a closer look at one which was lying open on the shelf: The Dragon Break Re-Examined. “The late 3rd era was a period of remarkable religious ferment and creativity,” it began. “The upheavals of the reign of Uriel VII were only the outward signs of the historical forces that would eventually lead to the fall of the Septim Dynasty...”

Hang on, ‘late 3rd Era’? ‘Fall of the Septim Dynasty’? Unless I had been spectacularly misinformed, this was the Third Era, and Uriel Septim VII was still very much in power. As I read on, I suddenly realised what the author was doing: the book was written from the perspective of some imaginary future historian, looking back on the Third Era. How very… curious.

“Ahem,” said a gruff voice behind me.

I whirled round and found myself face-to-face with a genuine Telvanni mage for the first time. By appearances he was an ordinary, rather grumpy-looking middle-aged Dunmer, but at the same time there was something ageless about him that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Remembering what Caius had said about ‘thousand-year-old wizards’, it made me wonder just how old – and powerful – he really was.

“Ah. Excuse me,” I said, slightly embarrassed to have been caught examining his private stuff. “Baladas, er… Demnevanni?”

“Speaking,” he said coldly. “Hurry up.”

I decided not to bother with introductions. “I was sent here by General Darius, sera. You, er, seem to have taken one of our soldiers prisoner.”

Baladas frowned. “She came demanding tribute for the Empire of men. I was here before Gnisis, before the Empire of men; I will be here after Gnisis is gone and after this short-lived Empire has crumbled. The people of Gnisis live only because I tolerate them. Why should I pay tribute?”

Something told me that appealing to this guy’s sense of civic duty probably wasn’t going to work. “I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding,” I said soothingly. “Anyway, surely she’ll have learned her lesson by now?”

“What? So soon?” he said with a snort. “Even the short-lived Orcs need time to reflect on their transgressions.”

Oh dear, this wasn’t going too well. “Please, Ser Baladas,” I said, trying to sound respectful rather than desperate. “Let her go and no one will trouble you again.”

He scowled. “You trouble me now. Do you think I have nothing better to do than listen to such lies? Leave now, or you shall join the Orc in my prison.”

“Okay, okay,” I said, raising my hands. “But before I go, please could I just ask you something? Are you interested in the Dwemer, by any chance?”

As I had expected, he looked a little taken aback by the question. “Yes, I have studied the Dwemer for many centuries. What is your reason for asking me this?”

“I was just wondering if you’d heard of a book called Divine Metaphysics?”

The sour-faced wizard caught his breath, and I immediately saw that I’d struck gold. “You have a copy?” he asked almost hoarsely.

“I don’t, but I know where you can get one,” I said. “But you’ll have to let Ragash go first.”

Baladas hesitated only a second before handing me a key from the pocket of his robe. “Very well, here is the key. Now tell me where to find the book – and if I find you have lied, be sure that I will kill you.”

“Okay. You know the eggmine up on the hill?” He nodded. “Inside there, some of the workers have uncovered a Dwemer ruin. I saw a copy of the book and some kind of airship plans. You’d better get there quickly before someone comes and takes them away.”

He still looked suspicious, but finally nodded. “Very well. Now leave, and take the Orc with you.”

I hurried back downstairs before he could change his mind. A crazed wizard who lived alone with tame Daedroths and strange Dwemer machines was not someone you wanted to mess with.

Poor Ragash nearly cried when I came to free her from her cell. “Thank you so much,” she said when we were finally outside the building. “You help me escape from that crazy guy. I thought I’d never get out again.”

“You okay? He didn’t set his pet Daedroth on you or anything like that?”

She shook her head. “Go tell Darius that I’m okay.”

Darius was happy to hear that I’d got Ragash out safely, and rewarded me with a promotion to Agent and a Legion helmet and gauntlets. If I went on like this, pretty soon I’d have the whole set. “Are you ready for further orders?” he asked me.

Well, why not? “Yes, sir!” I said, throwing caution to the winds.

“Well, I suspect there is something going on with some of my troopers. Informants have told me of a conspiracy brewing involving the Talos Cult.”

“Talos Cult, sir?” I was confused. It’s more common to worship the Nine as a group, of course, but there are cults devoted to individual Gods and Goddesses all over the Empire. “Are they dangerous?”

He shook his head. “They are a group that reveres Tiber Septim. It’s not the group as a whole that concerns me, but rumours of a conspiracy within the membership. Talk to your fellow soldiers and see if you can find out more.”

I obediently set off for the barracks, though I couldn’t imagine what kind of conspiracy a bunch of Talos-worshippers could be involved in. The few I’d met before had been almost fanatically devoted to the Empire, as you’d expect from people who worship a former Emperor. Unless they’d gone crazy and decided we need to exterminate all Dunmer or Argonians or something… actually, yeah, I could kind of see Talos-worshippers doing that.

I didn’t have much experience with infiltrating religious cults, but I guessed it wasn’t a good idea to just barge in and start asking leading questions. Instead I joined the other Legionnaires as they ate their evening meal, sloshed around a good deal of ale, and ended up recounting my daring rescue of Ragash gra-Shuzgub from the fiendish wizard Baladas. (I’ll admit that my account may not have been 100% factually accurate.)

“…so I said to him, ‘Listen, you Telvanni b*stard. Let her go right now or I’ll shove this longsword up where the sun don’t shine!’” There was a general roar of laughter and approval, and one of the soldiers handed me another drink. I just hoped I could get out of Gnisis before this version of the story got back to Baladas.

“So,” I said casually to the guy sitting next to me, once the conversation had moved on. “You guys worship Talos, right? I heard something about a cult.”

The soldier, an Orc, looked a bit uncomfortable. “Look, I’m not really into it, OK?”

“No?” I said, acting disappointed. “You can’t tell me how to join, then?”

He sighed. “Talk to Oritius Maro. That’s all I’m saying.”

The next morning I tracked down Oritius Maro, one of the few other Imperials in the Gnisis branch of the Legion, and asked about the cult. Immediately his face lit up. “Yes, we are those who worship the true following of the Legions. Protecting the Glory of Tiber Septim, Talos, the Dragonborn.”

“I’ve always admired Tiber Septim,” I told him. “Truly the greatest Emperor of all time.” (Actually I’ve always preferred Alessia, but he didn’t need to know that.)

Maro looked pleased. “I heard about you and the wizard, sister. Perhaps you could be of some use to us. Do you have interest in becoming a member of the Talos Cult?”

I nodded, and he handed me a key. “This will unlock the door to the shrine downstairs. Look in the storeroom for the door. While you’re there, speak with Arius Rulician, and he’ll tell you more.”

Well, that was surprisingly easy. I went to the storeroom and found the door he was talking about – actually a trapdoor down into a small basement area. There was nothing much there apart from a shrine to Talos, guarded by a single Imperial soldier who was presumably Arius Rulician.

“Ah, so you’ve spoken to Oritius?” he said when I introduced myself. “We are always interested in meeting those who sympathise with our cause. Feel free to look around and hear of our plans.”

He left the room before I had a chance to ask what those ‘plans’ might be – I got the impression that he thought I already knew. Anyway, I didn’t know what he was doing or how long he’d be gone for, but the opportunity was too good to pass up.

The only things I could see on the shrine were a sword, a collection plate, and a small wooden strongbox with a heavy lock. A quick examination of the lock showed that it was actually a fairly simple one, and it took only seconds for me to spring it with one of my picks. The only thing inside was a brief note written by Oritius Maro:

There are rumours that Uriel will be visiting Vvardenfell in person. If so, we must act sooner than anticipated. We must watch his actions carefully and strike if the opportunity presents itself. We must also recruit more and swear them to the oath: That we shall die to put a strong man back on the throne of Tamriel.

Burn this note.

Oritius

I blinked a few times, overcome with a sudden sense of being stuck in a bad novel. If I’d read that correctly, Oritius was talking about assassinating Uriel VII and replacing him with a ‘stronger’ Emperor. Surely this kind of thing didn’t actually happen, in this day and age?

I read the letter through once more to be sure I hadn’t misread it, but there was no mistaking the phrase ‘put a strong man back on the throne of Tamriel’. They were planning to kill the Emperor. I felt my hands shake slightly as I realised what I’d got myself mixed up in. Okay, so they’d probably overestimated the chances of Uriel making a state visit to Darkest Vvardenfell, but still – this was treason.

Unfortunately, Arius chose that moment to come back and see me holding the note. If I’d thought more quickly I might have been able to save the situation – “Right on, brother, death to the Emperor!” – but I was just too shocked. He spotted the open box, saw the expression on my face, and immediately drew his sword.

The fight that followed was short and brutal. There wasn’t much space to move around, or even swing a sword properly, so all we could do was hack at each other while desperately trying to defend with our shields. Arius was fighting for his life – he knew what was likely to happen if anyone else found out about this – so there wasn’t much chance of him surrendering. It was pure luck that I managed to get in the first blow, and that it managed to penetrate the chainmail armour he was wearing.

To make matters worse, Oritius Maro was the first person to greet me as I hauled myself out of the trapdoor. He saw the blood on my sword and cuirass, and let out a roar of fury as he realised what had happened. Another brief and violent struggle followed, and again it was mostly my superior armour that saved the day – boy was I glad Darius had given me that steel cuirass.

By this time several other Legionnaires had come running to see what was going on. There were gasps of horror at the sight of Maro’s body, and I realised I had to get out of here now. “Murder! Treason! Conspiracy!” I shrieked, and then bolted for the door before anyone could react, leaving them staring after me in bemusement. I was already at the door of the tradehouse by the time I heard sounds of pursuit.

Back in Darius’ office, I showed him the now rather bloodstained note and did my best to give him a coherent account of what had happened. “A conspiracy against the Emperor?” he exclaimed in disbelief. “Thank the Divines you found this evidence. And that you managed to bring justice to the traitors.” He shook his head. “It saddens me that this could happen to men under my command.”

“Did you have any idea this was going on, sir?”

Again he shook his head. “We all swore to serve the Emperor, no matter what happens. Well, you’ve earned my gratitude, Agent. For this I believe you deserve promotion to the rank of Champion.”

I was astonished, hardly knowing whether to feel gratified or uncomfortable. Champion was quite a high rank, certainly not one you’d expect to reach after only two days in the Legion. I could only hope my fellow soldiers wouldn’t resent me for being promoted over their heads like that.

Darius gave me two fine Imperial steel pauldrons to complete the set, and after cleaning and polishing my armour, I finally stood resplendent in my full Legion uniform. I held out my shield in front of me to admire my reflection, and felt a stab of pride. Who would have thought that less than a month ago I’d been languishing in a prison cell? I couldn’t wait to see the look on Caius Cosades’ face when he heard about this.

Since Darius didn’t have any more tasks for a Legion Champion, I decided to leave Gnisis the following morning, and set out to visit the Shrine of Valour in the Koal Cave. It wasn’t far from the village, but it took me quite a long time to find the entrance, tucked away between some rocks by the waterside. The book told me that “only experienced and capable adventurers should attempt to re-enact the epic battle with the dreugh in the cave”, so I decided to give that a miss. If I ever felt an uncontrollable urge to fight a dreugh, I could always come back later on.

I took the next morning’s silt strider back to Ald’ruhn, arriving late in the evening. The streets were still filled with people, and once again I noticed the difference in their attitude now that I wore a Legion uniform. It was particularly obvious with the Redoran guards I passed – where once they’d just have ignored me, or looked at me with mild suspicion, they now nodded to me with grudging respect as I walked by. Why the heck did I wait so long to join the Legion?

Neminda raised her eyebrows when I entered the Council hall in my new get-up. “Well, don’t you look smart,” she said approvingly. “You must have been busy since I last saw you.”

“I’ll say,” I said. “Let’s see, I… fought off a bandit attack, rescued a pilgrim from some Ashlanders, solved a murder case, helped a guy who’d had his pants stolen – ”

“His pants?”

“Yes. It’s a long story,” I told her. “Anyway, where was I? Ah yes… freed a kidnapped tax collector, nearly died of a fever, and cured the Gnisis eggmine’s queen of blight disease. Oh, and foiled a plot to kill the Emperor.”

Neminda’s mouth was hanging open. “You’re not serious.”

“I am too,” I said.

“A plot. To kill. The Emperor?” she repeated, with obvious skepticism.

“That’s right. Why do you think I’m Champion of Fort Darius now?” I showed her the band on my arm indicating my rank.

Neminda stared at it for several seconds, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing, then finally pulled herself together. “Well, then, I guess it’s probably time to talk about your advancement in House Redoran.”

We went off to one of the practice rooms, where I demonstrated my combat skills to Neminda by sparring with her for a while. She was good, but I managed to hold my own pretty well. “Not bad,” she said at last. “You’re as good as me – maybe better. Perform a few more tasks for the House and you should rise through the ranks pretty quickly.”

She promoted me to Oathman of House Redoran, and reminded me that I’d need a sponsor once I reached the next rank. In the meantime, she gave me a book called The Red Book of 3E 426, containing the names and residences of all the Redoran councillors.

I opened the book and read the first name on the page: “Archmaster Lord Bolvyn Venim, by Grace of Almsivi, Chief Councilor of Redoran Council, Vvardenfell District, Lord Ald’ruhn of Bolvyn Manor, Manor District, Ald’ruhn, District of Vvardenfell, Province of Morrowind.” Bloody hell, that was a lot of titles. I hoped I wouldn’t have to run through them all every time I spoke to him.

It was still fairly early in the evening, so I decided to try out one of the local taverns. I’d already drunk several times at a place called the Ald Skar Inn, which was nice enough, but thought I’d try somewhere different for a change. After returning to the Fighters’ Guild to change out of my uniform, I set out to look for a tavern, and finally ended up in a place called The Rat In The Pot.

The moment I entered the tavern, I could tell that it wasn’t exactly the most upmarket place in the city. In fact, judging by the surprisingly high number of non-Dunmer in the place, I suspected it was probably the local Thieves’ Guild hangout. Still, the owner – a Breton named Lirielle Stoine – was friendly enough, and eager to pass on the latest Ald’ruhn gossip.

“Did you hear Bolvyn Venim killed another outlander in a duel?” she asked me. “Terrible, isn’t it?”

Hang on, I’d just seen that name in the Red Book. “Bolvyn Venim? The Redoran Archmaster?”

“That’s right,” said Narile Sadoro, one of the other patrons. “The man was an officer in the House Guard, but Venim insulted his ancestors at a meal, so of course he had to demand satisfaction.”

“He… did?”

Lirielle nodded sadly. “And of course he had no chance against Venim. So it was murder, really.”

“You’re an outlander, yes?” Narile asked me. “Then take warning – be very careful in your dealings with Venim. Or better yet, stay away from him.”

Oh, wonderful. I leave one House because their leader is a lecherous pervert, only to find that the head of my new House is a rabid xenophobe. Well, if he thought that little trick was going to work on me, he was going to be disappointed. I didn’t even know who my ancestors were, so he could insult them all he liked as far as I was concerned.

“Talking of Venim,” Lirielle said confidentially, “I heard that he’s been having an aff-”

She broke off suddenly, and I followed her gaze to the young Dunmer man who had just entered the tavern. By the look of him he was a few years younger than me, probably no more than twenty. He was simply dressed, and wore his hair in that weird spiked row that seemed to be the fashion among Dunmer youth, but I could spot a rich kid posing as a commoner at fifty paces. Probably a son of one of the Redoran nobles under Skar – that would explain why Lirielle had shut up so quickly.

But what really struck me about the man was how deeply, deeply unhappy he looked. I don’t think he even noticed me sitting there; he just went straight up to Lirielle and said something in a low voice. She handed him a tankard, and he gulped down the entire thing within seconds, then ordered another and sat down with his back to everyone else in the room.

I sipped my own drink and stared at the miserable figure hunched over the table, wondering what was up with the poor guy. A short while later, a couple of Redoran guards came in and took a seat at a nearby table. I struck up another conversation with Lirielle, and one of the guards came over to order a drink, so neither of us really noticed when the Dunmer man left the room for a few minutes. On his return he sat down, took a few sips of his drink, and then suddenly slumped forward across the table.

“My goodness,” said Lirielle. “He hasn’t had that much to drink.” Her face paled slightly. “I hope he hasn’t – ”

I hurried to the young man’s side and checked his pulse, which was strong, then tried to wake him by gently shaking his shoulder. He murmured something, but didn’t wake up. “I think he’s just asleep,” I announced. “Probably had a few drinks before coming in here – ”

One of the guards practically shoved me aside. “Do not concern yourself with this, outlander. We will take him home.” Well, sheesh, I thought. I was just trying to help.

The rest of us watched as the guards lifted the man from his seat and half-dragged, half-carried him out of the tavern. Once they were gone, Lirielle nudged me. “That’s young Varvur, Lord Sarethi’s son,” she told me. “People are saying he murdered Bralen Carvaren, but I don’t believe it. They were the best of friends.”

Goodness. No wonder he’d looked a bit upset.

Narile nodded. “They used to come in here often to drink and meet women, as young men do. We pretended not to know who they were, of course, but it was an open secret.” She shook her head. “But Varvur Sarethi is a nice boy. It’s all very sad.”

I wondered if the young man I’d just seen really was a murderer. He didn’t look like one, but… well, according to the law, I was a murderer. Combine a short temper with a weapon and an excess of alcohol, and it’s all too easy to make a life-destroying mistake.

[mALX]

WOOOOOOOOOOOT !!!!! It's Varvur !!!!!!!!!!!!

[Helena]

Even more screenshots:

Bad hair day
Resplendent in full Legion armour
And this one's just for fun...

[treydog]

…a Legion steel cuirass. I breathed in deeply as he handed it over to me; ever since I was a child I’d dreamed of wearing one of these. I held it with trembling hands, admiring the fine steelwork and beautiful decorative plating on the front, until the General told me to stop gawping and get back to work.

One of my characters shares Ada’s feelings. His father on the other hand…

I’d got the impression that Gnisis was Redoran territory, so I wondered why they allowed a Telvanni wizard to live there.

Another one of the never-explained mysteries of Morrowind. Maybe Maiq has an answer.

A crazed wizard who lived alone with tame Daedroths and strange Dwemer machines was not someone you wanted to mess with.

See, Ada did learn something in school!

Unless they’d gone crazy and decided we need to exterminate all Dunmer or Argonians or something… actually, yeah, I could kind of see Talos-worshippers doing that.

Hee.

The book told me that “only experienced and capable adventurers should attempt to re-enact the epic battle with the dreugh in the cave”, so I decided to give that a miss. If I ever felt an uncontrollable urge to fight a dreugh, I could always come back later on.

Don’t you hate it when that happens? Or when you have this sudden desire to go poke a dragon in the snout with a sharp stick?

And I echo our own mALX- Varvur makes his first, if less-than-impressive, appearance.

Loved the pictures- esp. the bad hair one.

[mALX]

Even more screenshots:

Bad hair day
Resplendent in full Legion armour
And this one's just for fun...

My favorite is "Just for fun" - she looks like she is thinking about Varvur !!!! WOO HOO !!!!