The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl: Part 2 Options

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The insistent hammering on my door woke me from a dream. Heavy-lidded, I threw on a robe and went to answer. To my surprise, a youth stood there, proffering a sheet of velum. When I’d rewarded him with a golden coin, I shut the door and looked at the parchment uneasily. I had fancied that my little hidey-hole in Balmora was unknown to most people ~ excepting, of course, the Fighters Guild and Caius Cosades. So, to receive this missive was unsettling.

Any trace of sleepiness fell from my eyes as I examined the note. From Llunela Hleran, it urged me to visit her to discuss my stronghold. I believe the phrase ‘at your convenience’ was used. Throwing on more suitable attire, I forewent breakfast and travelled to Sadrith Mora with as much haste as I could muster.

“Muthsera Vahl,” Llunela said happily as I stepped into the circle of light around her fire. “I trust the day finds you well?” I nodded, wondering how to prompt her to hurry up. I needn’t have bothered. “Your stronghold is begun,” she said, “but I need you to travel to Uvirith’s Grave and speak to the construction boss, an Orc by the name of Gashnak gra-Mughol. She is overseeing the early stages of growth, but I need a progress report.

“Uvirith’s Grave is here,” she said, showing me a large map, “roughly west of Tel Fyr.”

Assuring her that I’d report back as quickly as possible, I made my way up to the docks and spoke the spell that would allow me to walk on water. I made good time, crossing Zafirbel Bay and came, in due course, to the shore of the main island. Large mountains blocked my direct route: as I didn’t wish to run the risk of getting lost, I used the levitation amulet to rise up and over them. Before too long, I found myself flying over a depressing landscape.

Hummocks of ashy-black rock rose up from the sere and lifeless plain below me. A few half-dead trees dotted the landscape while, from several hollows I crossed, steam rose from strangely shaped vents. As I travelled further inland the ground below me grew less hospitable and even more desolate ~ if such a thing was possible. My heart was down in my boots; surely my stronghold wasn’t being built in the trackless wasteland?

My fears were justified for I soon spotted an Orcish female standing atop a hill in the middle of this barrenness. Allowing the spell to fade (just as well, since the amulet was almost out of charge), I drifted towards the ground. Where, I wondered, was my tower? As I tramped up that hill, small puffs of gritty dust rising up with every footfall, I saw a small mass of tangled roots growing around a pair of matched crystals.

“Tower growing well,” the Orcish female said. “Week, perhaps a ten day, soon it be ready for second-stage growth. You tell Hleran I, construction boss, see no problems here.”

I wish I didn’t, I reflected as I constructed the shape of the translocation spell in my mind and stepped through it to Sadrith Mora. Llunela must have sensed my mood when I reported gra-Mughol’s words. She grinned when I explained the reason for my depression.

“See here Muthsera Vahl,” she said, placing her map where I could see it. Pointing to Uvirith’s Grave, she explained it to me. “Any traveller from Suran, Pelagiad, or Molag Mar will have to pass along one of these two routes…” Here she indicated two deep canyons leading north and east. “…And each of them leaves the traveller in this area around Uvirith’s Grave. They will have to pass by your stronghold to travel to the Grazelands or over to territory controlled by us. In other words, you will be controlling this whole area…” She made a sweep around Uvirith’s Grave with her finger, giving me some idea of the area of influence my tower would command. I felt a little better after that, but I was still unhappy at the severity of the location ~ just about everything I needed would have to be brought in.

Llunela just laughed when I mentioned that little fact, saying that I had much to learn about how Great House Telvanni organised things. I took heart from that, although I was a little surprised ~ after all, my fellow Telvanni make a virtue of their isolation and independence. Llunela wouldn’t be drawn on the subject preferring to ‘let it all come as a surprise’ as she put it. Instead, she told me the cautionary tale of Jaron Scorchblot, a very old and powerful Telvanni from the mainland. He had professed to need the isolation his remote stronghold gave him and had declined all contact. Within a year, his tower was so much mulch and he now spent his days wandering from place to place. “In fact,” she finished, “I believe he is currently residing on a rock somewhere out in Zafirbel Bay.”

The tale was, as I said, meant to be a cautionary one and I took careful note of that fact. So, there was some sort of support structure for the Telvanni Mage-Lords that was unknown to the outside world. Thinking back on the location of Shishi, it really shouldn’t have come as any surprise. And no, I’ll not be detailing the whys, how, and wherefores of that infrastructure. There are secrets we’ve kept for thousands of years; I see no reason to tell you everything.

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I had seen Pelagiad when I’d first arrived on Vvardenfell and, for some reason, felt the need to see it again. Perhaps it was curiosity that drove me, or a vague sense of homesickness. So it was that I set off along the road towards the Imperial town. For a change, none of the local fauna seemed interested in making me their next meal, the sun was shining out of a cloudless sky, and there was the delicate scent of green and growing things on the breeze. Of all the things I’ve grown accustomed to during my long tenure on this island, the smell is the one thing that I still find the least pleasant. Oh, not that I mind the flinty, ash smell that permeates virtually everything here; no, it’s the smell of growing things I miss.

Still, I digress. I think I probably heard the woman before I caught sight of her ~ her sobbing was audible before she came into sight. Tall, with red hair and exquisite clothing, she looked the very definition of distress as she stood at the side of the road.

“What ails you?” I asked the Bretonian.

“Have you seen a bandit on your travels?” she asked. I shook my head. “Ah, such a shame,” she said, “for I have been robbed.”

“Was much taken?” I asked, adding, “I might be able to recover your jewels and valuables if you can give me a description of the thief.”

“Jewels and valuables?” she said haughtily. “Baubles I can afford to loose. No, what was stolen was much more valuable.”

Thinking she had been robbed of valuable documents, I pressed her for a description. “A Dark Elf, like yourself,” she said. “Tall, with brown hair and a twinkle in his eye. His face was ruggedly handsome and he was tall and proud.” I listened with growing dismay as she spoke, a soft and dreamlike tone in her voice as she described her assailant. “He took a kiss and stole my heart,” she concluded.

I raised an eyebrow at that. She begged me to seek out this bandit and give him a note and a token of her love, one of her exquisite gloves. While I could see no harm in what she asked, personally I thought her insane. To loose your heart to some bandit on the road seemed to me the very height of foolishness. Especially when you had no idea of where this bandit came from, or to whence he had gone, and only the name ‘Nelos Onmar’.

Putting her note and token away, I continued on down the road ~ occasionally shaking my head at such an absurd idea. I was, I’ll admit, tempted to throw note and glove away and forget this task. So engrossed was I with my internal debate that I almost stepped into the woman who stood blocking my way.

“Traveller,” she said, “a boon if you will.” I looked up to see a priestess of Kynareth, clad in the traditional blue robe of that order. “Please can you bring the Guard from Pelagiad? Some ruffians have taken over the shrine and I cannot deal with them. And I fear my sister’s life ~ she is still inside.”

“Why would anyone attack a shrine?” I asked.

“Two very important religious icons are on display,” she explained. “If they are stolen, it will be a disaster.”

“Perhaps I can help?” I said. “If I’m careful, I might be able to free your sister at the very least. It would be quicker than bringing the guards here.”

“Why would you help Dark Elf?” she asked. “This is an Imperial matter.”

Although it amused me that Ariene mistook me for a native, her words also stung. Rather brusquely I explained that I was an Imperial citizen, recently arrived from the mainland and that, while not a devotee of Kynareth, I worshipped at the shrine of Stendarr. I will admit, however, that I neglected to mention that it had been a good number of years since I’d last stood before the altar and made my devotions. She seemed to reach a decision and gave me the key to the shrine.

As I slipped the massive brass key into the equally massive lock, I wondered what madness had come over me. What had started as a simple walk in the countryside had become a matter of arranging a tryst between a love-struck Breton and a Dunmer bandit who probably didn’t even remember her; and of recovering (or attempting to recover) two sacred artefacts from a besieged shrine. Once again I was prompted to wonder ‘why me?’

The cool blues of the shrine reflected the light from a very ornately decorated panel that greeted the visitor on entering. Above me, a balcony jutted out from the wall, to my right a small set of stairs descended to a dark wooden door, directly in front of me was the sacristy ~ the place where the prayers were said. Although there was nobody about, I could hear the faint scrape of metal on stone.

The levitation amulet allowed me to reach the balcony, since there seemed to be no other method of getting there. The door, which was the only feature of the area, yielded easily to my touch and I stepped into a small chamber. Three things immediately struck my attention and made me draw my axe. The first was the ebony sphere that was displayed on a lavish golden stand. The glass cover that had protected it lay in shards on the top of the simple stone plinth. The second thing was the woman, clad in black armour, reaching for the sphere. The final thing was the look of pure venom she gave me when I entered. With no word or challenge, she drew a strangely wrought blade and advanced on me purposefully.

She was skilled, I’ll give her that and, not so long ago she would have proved too formidable an opponent for me. However, I’d grown in stature and power since I’d arrived and the Dwemer axe ~ which I’d named ‘Bara Ddeisyf’, or ‘The Last Wish’ ~ was a far more deadly weapon than her simple blade. Heavy gilded Dwemeri metal crashed against her black armour as I sidestepped the thrust, the keen edge of the weapon tearing the iron like cloth.

“Crn spas osim ako mene,” she spat in a language unknown to me as the spells woven into the axe bit home. The ragged edges of the cut I’d made in the armour glowed a dull red as the fire-based enchantment ripped at the flesh underneath. Giving her no chance to recover, I stepped in and swung again and again ~ successive flares of heat blooming at each strike. Warily, I stepped back and hefted the Wish, waiting to see what the stricken woman would do next.

According to the lays sung by the bards, she should have lain down her sword and sued for mercy. If you’ve been adventuring yourself, you’ll know it’s surprising how infrequently things like that happen. With a loud cry, she hurled herself at me with the sword held high overhead. The vindictive blow struck the upraised shaft of my axe and stopped it cold: even as the sound of metal on metal was reverberating around the chamber, I brought down the axe ~ burying the curved blade in the top of her head.

Coolly working the Wish from its resting place, I stepped back and used a handy tapestry to clean the worst of the gore from the blade. Then I turned my attention to the ebon sphere that had been singing to me since I stepped into the room. I was wary about touching it since it was obviously a source of great power but I dare not leave it here in case there were others who would steal it while I searched for the other artefact. Reaching down, I picked the surprisingly heavy object up. There was a strange roaring sound in my ears and I felt a familiar tugging sensation.

I’d had a vision of a similarly sized ivory sphere in a chamber with intricately worked iron doors. Further more, I knew exactly where this chamber lay in relation to my current position. I can, sometimes, sense the presence of enchanted items ~ it’s an ability over which I have no control and is part of my skill at identifying magical items. Never, in all my life, had I felt it so strongly: it was as if a golden thread glimmered before me and showed the way to the second relic. So overpowering was this knowledge that I had little option other than to follow the thread to its end.

Beneath the shrine lay a small complex of rooms. These housed supplies for the shrine and the living quarters of the priestess and her sister. They also currently housed two armoured guards who were somewhat aggressively unhappy at my presence. However, a fey mood had come over me since I’d grasped the ebony sphere and I moved between them as they were acting in slow motion. The construct for the spell ‘Boiling Blood’ rose up in my mind, tier after tier of convoluted Arcana: their sluggish movements guaranteed their rapid demise.

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Goodness...this is amazing.....every blow Sudhendra makes is described in such a vivid way you can almost see it in your mind...well at least I can!

and this young lady kills and run love-errands with the same cool attitude... If I personally was to be translocated to Morrowind (it is possible...just read Alexander´s story... ) then I would very much like to meet Sudhendra and have a nice looong chat with her...

Please can we have some pictures????? :drool:

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Some pictures? I think I have a couple more you might not have seen

[img]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v636/OverrideB1/AscendedRobe.jpg[/img]

and

[img]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v636/OverrideB1/VahlDaedric1.jpg[/img]

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The cowering woman locked in the cell was Coryn, the sister of Ariene. She told me that there was one more robber in the shrine and that I would find her behind the iron doors at one end of the complex. She also warned me that the woman was a skilled warrior. Taking the proffered key, I walked to the massive doors. How, I wondered as I slipped the key into the lock, had this other woman managed to get inside if Coryn had the key?

Such thoughts were fleeting, the sound of the heavy doors grating back on their hinges had obviously alerted the female inside and it was only reflex that saved me from becoming shorter by a head. With strength I didn’t know I possessed, I shoved the armour-clad woman back a few steps and drew myself up to my full height. “Surrender or die,” I offered as I hefted my axe.

“Die then,” I advised as the woman screamed at me in the same language as the one upstairs and threw herself at me. Unlike the previous warrior-thief, this woman was more skilled and less impetuous. However, her vulnerability to the spells woven into my axe was no less pronounced. She was, however, still at a disadvantage, for that odd fey mood was still upon me. Her movements seemed slightly slower than they should have been, and I was easily able to dodge or block her blows. My first retaliatory blow surprised even me. There was a sonorous chiming sound as the blade struck her cuirass. A startled look crossed her face as the force of my blow drove her backwards helplessly.

Within moments, or so it seemed to me, I had struck another massive blow ~ sending her crashing against the door, while I had deftly deflected her strikes. The strange feeling that had come over me when I’d picked up the ebon sphere was growing stronger and I felt more and more… disconnected somehow ~ almost as though my actions were being guided and other eyes looked through mine. Almost without thought, I struck her down again, this time hearing something crack unpleasantly in her chest.

“Think you are winner,” she panted, blood flecks appearing on her lips as she spoke. “I am thinking not. My Lord Zumars your head will have for this.”

“Who is Lord Zumars?” The question seemed to be coming from a distance, and it was a moment before I realised it was me speaking. She snarled at me and raised her hand to her mouth and bit down on whatever was concealed there. Instantly, she went into convulsions and, before I’d taken the two steps necessary to cover the distance between us, she flopped back lifelessly.

Whatever force was driving me now spun me around and made me walk to the delicately carved podium at the end of the chamber. There, glowing with a soft inner light, was another sphere ~ this one pearl-white. As my fingers touched it, the strange mood I’d been in fell away, vanishing like a shadow at midday. I should have felt weary after such a prolonged series of fights but I felt light as a feather and oddly rejuvenated. Picking up the second sphere, I carried them carefully outside.

Coryn and Ariene were waiting for me, and the priestess soon took possession of the globes intending, she said, to return them to the mainland immediately. Coryn was slightly less distracted and thanked me repeatedly for recovering the relics.

“I have a present for you,” she said, motioning me to the side of the terrace. There stood a wooden crate. “I trust it will serve you better than it has served me,” Coryn said softly. “Please tell us where to have it delivered.” Once more thanking her, although I didn’t know just then what a princely gift she was making, I gave her the address in Labour Town.

I followed the main road further until I came to the turning for Pelagiad. The town itself was pleasant enough, and the people friendly. However, it was an odd thing. I’d set off this morning filled with the desire to see a town of the sort I used to live in but, now I was here, it seemed faintly alien and strange.

The ‘Halfway Inn’ served a nice enough meal and I ate heartily, musing as I did on the strange sensation of being driven that I’d felt earlier. While I put it down to Kynareth acting through me, I decided I really didn’t like it. After all, wasn’t I captain of my own fate?

Fate, or whatever Power it is that controls it, certainly has an odd sense of humour. I had just gone up to the bar to get another glass of Sujamma when I heard the proprietor address a customer, saying “I’d suspect Nelos Onmar of stealing the bowl if it wasn’t for the fact he rarely leaves Pelagiad.”

“Excuse me,” I asked him as he served me my drink, “do you know Nelos Onmar? And what’s this about a stolen bowl?”

He looked at me blankly, so I added ten Septims to the change on the bar and slid the money back towards him. He started to clean the bar with a cloth, making the money vanish in the process. “I heard, from the Ygfa the healer in the fort, that Piernette Beluelle has had a silver bowl stolen right from inside her farmhouse. As for Nelos, you’ll find him over there.”

“I might be, pretty lady,” the richly clad Dunmer said when I asked if he was Nelos Onmar. “It very much depends on who it is doing the asking, and why.”

I explained my presence to him, presenting him with the note and the glove the Breton had given me. He looked totally taken aback and sat down rather heavily. I sat opposite him and looked at him in some amusement as he stared into his ale. Then, like a dog emerging from a lake, he shook himself all over and stood up. “I have been a fool,” he said, bowing slightly in my direction. “I overlooked the greatest treasure of all.” Resolutely, he walked from the Inn as I sat there completely bemused. It was much later that I learned that they’d run off together and set up on the mainland together, in one of those little towns that dot the border.

Ygfa turned out to be one of the most profitable people I’d encountered in a long while. After she’d confirmed that the silver bowl I had back in Balmora was the one stolen from Piernette Beluelle and giving me directions on how to find her farm, we spoke for a good while. What we spoke of were the diseases of the island ~ many of them, she told me, unique to Vvardenfell. She told me the symptoms of the diseases and how to recognise them and also showed me how to mix up a potion that would cure both common diseases and the much worse Blights that I might be exposed to. The process wasn’t complicated, nor the ingredients particularly difficult to acquire and I resolved that I would at least dabble in this alchemy lark until I was good enough to make curative potions for myself.

Returning to Balmora, I found an Orc sitting outside my house. He had been given some coin to deliver a large crate to me. I gave him a few more to deposit the box inside and stood looking at it for a while. When it failed to do anything unpleasant, I levered it open.

“Sweet Stendarr’s mercy,” I gasped as I took out the pieces of armour. There was no mistaking the design or colour ~ they were the dark, sky-blue of the Order of the Air, edged in the traditional silver design of Kynareth’s ministry. In addition to the full suit of armour was a blue robe with the device of Kynareth on the front.

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WoW....what a great description of Sudhendra´s adventures in this shrine....Really an enjoyable reading!

ehum..where is Labour Town? Is it a mod or have I just not seen it when travelling around?

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[quote=minque]ehum..where is Labour Town? Is it a mod or have I just not seen it when travelling around?[/quote]

Labour Town is the south side of Balmora, across the Odai where the South Wall Corner Club and Caius Cosades live. That phrase pops up in the NOLORE dialogue for Balmora when you are in Balmora. The Commercial District is the bit north of the river, where the Guilds are. High Town is where all the manor houses are.

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I set out this morning for the Ascadian Isles, using the Mages Guild service to get me to Vivec City. The directions Ygfa had given me yestere were excellent and it wasn’t too long before I arrived at the farm of Piernette Beluelle. To say that she was delighted to receive the bowl back would be an understatement: and she also seemed very surprised that I’d brought such a valuable object back.

“Let me tell you a few secrets,” she said. And so, for the next hour, I sat and listened as she told me how to get the best deals out of traders and merchants. What she told me might not have unlocked the secrets of the universe, but it was extremely valuable and would make sure that any future sales or purchases were more advantageous to me than the trader.

I left the farmhouse and breathed deeply of the morning air. I liked the Ascadian isles ~ the greenery, the fresh air, the cries of distress…

I’d been walking for quite a while, drinking in the surroundings and luxuriating in the warm sunshine when I heard a small voice yell, “Is there anyone there? Can somebody, please, help me?” It was the voice of someone who’s been yelling a while and doesn’t expect a reply.

I trotted in the direction of the voice, coming at last to a small wooded glen. “Oh thank Vivec,” the voice sighed, “Can you help me?”

I looked around, but couldn’t see who was speaking. “No,” the voice said, “I’m up here.”

Perched precariously in the fork of a tree and almost hidden by the leaves, was a shivering Dunmer. When I asked him what he was doing up there, he fetched a long sigh and said, “Thoronor and I were making a pilgrimage to Kummu, you know, the shrine there? Anyway,” he continued as I shook my head, “I heard some Kagouti nearby and came to have a look. Turns out the blasted things were in rut and they chased me. I finally hid up here until they went away. And up here I’m staying until those beasts are very, very far away.”

Well, I could hardly leave him up in the tree until he rotted, could I? So, telling him that I’d see what I could do, I headed in the direction he indicated he’d come from. Sure enough, there was a pride of Kagouti in the next valley and they took an instant dislike to my presence. Now Kagouti are big and fierce but slow and boy, are they dumb. So dumb, in fact, that they just stood there and let me cast a couple of fireballs at them before they made any move to attack. By that time the air was filled with the smell of cooking meat and the few survivors didn’t put up too much of a challenge.

Once I’d convinced him that the beasts were not going to be a problem, Edras Oril clambered down from the tree and sheepishly followed me back to the crossroads where he’d left his Bosmeri friend.

“Edras! What have you been doing,” the little Bosmer clucked, rushing over to his friend and brushing leaves and detritus from the Elf’s clothing. “Just look at the state of you.” The Dunmer gave me a slow, challenging look as his friend prattled on ~ as if daring me to comment. “Where are my manners?” the diminutive Wood Elf said, rushing over to me. “Thank you for saving Edras ma’am. Please, we are but poor pilgrims and have little to offer but perhaps this trinket would be some recompense?”

Thanking them, I continued on my way, eventually coming back to Balmora.

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Still unsure of what I should do next, I decided that I could head on up to Caldera and explore. I’d passed through, briefly, a few days ago. It had looked a typical Imperial town and, to be honest, I was trying to resolve my ambivalent feelings about that. On the one hand, I’d been brought up in (and had visited many) a town just like Pelagiad and Caldera. They were a known quantity, a familiar thing in a very unfamiliar place. You’d think, then, that the sight of them would make me… warm and fuzzy. However, the more frequently I visited them, the more I detested their bland sameness and longed for the strange and beautiful local architecture.

So musing, I passed the stark beauty of the Akatosh Shrine that stood beside the road, its gold and black banners fluttering in the breeze. Even though I was still in the region known as West Gash, the scenery around me was taking on more and more of the aspects of the Molag Amur. Not too distant, over the rolling hills, rose a massive line of sharp-backed mountains while the road I was on wandered around the base of a vast dark peak. As the straw-topped watch towers of Caldera came into view, my thoughts once more turned to the ancient cataclysm that must have ravaged this land.

I knew, now, that there was a vast volcanic region in the centre of the island and that this volcano had last exploded thousands of years ago. Even now, the echoes of that event surrounded me as I stood in the main square of Caldera ~ it must have raised up the mountains that surrounded the town, mountains that the slow passage of time had worn down to their current majestic peaks. Shaking myself out of my reverie, I started to explore the town.

Not that there was much to explore. Like all Imperial towns it boasted an Inn, a few shops and an Imperial garrison. The one in Caldera was particularly magnificent and obviously served as a home for someone of importance as well as the local guards. Of which there seemed to be a fair number.

“Ebony,” one of the locals explained. “That’s why there’s so many guards here. The main centre of Ebony mining is just up the road away, and there’s always someone who fancies his chances at pocketing a chunk or two. Strictly illegal, of course, and woe betide you if a guard catches you without a licence and a pocket full of the black stuff.” I knew of Ebony ~ who didn’t ~ but only as worked armour or weapons carried by the richest of the rich. I’d even seen some, once, a suit of black armour worn by an Inquisitor who rode through the village. The local went on to explain that the previous Imperial Governor of Caldera had been removed and sent far away because of irregularities in his ledgers. Ghorak Manor, his residence, had stood empty ever since. The new Governor lived in the imposing structure on the hill.

I went to look at Ghorak Manor, but it was shuttered and locked. One the door fluttered a notice that baldly stated the Manse was for sale and that anyone interested should speak to Daran Atard. I laughed, drawing the occasional odd look from the passers-by. The ‘offers around fifty thousand’ line at the bottom of the note amused me no end: who would ever accumulate that much money?

Irgola the pawnbroker was my next stop, for I remembered that Folms Mirel had told me he had one of the Propylon Indexes the mage needed. My guess is that Folms had attempted to purchase the item before since Irgola wouldn’t budge on the price.

“Five ‘undred,” he said adamantly, “take it or leave it.” With a long-suffering sigh, I counted out the coins as he reached under the counter and fetched out a large steel box. He rummaged inside and finally set something down on the counter in front of me. I blinked, I’d just spent about a third of my money on an unremarkable sliver of stone ~ dull grey and about the size of my thumb. I picked it up; noticing as I did that the flattened top of the sliver bore an inset circle of golden coloured metal. The other thing I noticed was that the object was magically inert ~ not even a flicker of song from it.

There were cold stares all around as I entered the Caldera Guildhouse, the mages eyeing me warily as I made my way upstairs. Mirel, at least, seemed pleased to see me and quickly relieved me of the tiny stone and replaced it with a leather pouch containing five hundred Septims.

“While you’ve been gone,” he said, “I’ve been doing some research. And I think I’ve found out where there is another Propylon Index. It seems that a pilgrim gave the stone to the temple in Vivec City. They, not knowing what it was, or what to do with it, sent it to the temple at Saint Olms. My guess is that they had no clearer idea what it was so they put it in storage. Find it for me, and I’ll pay you another five hundred Drakes.”

“Can you tell me,” I asked, “why I seem to be so unpopular with the Mages Guild all of a sudden?”

“Hmpf,” he muttered. “I would have thought the reason was self-evident… Telvanni.”

So that was what the ‘problem’ was. I was a magic-user that they didn’t control. Well, too bad for them. I made my contempt for their problems clear by swiping a complete alchemy set from an upstairs storeroom before leaving. I doubted that they’d miss it, given the disarray that the room was in: besides, I thought my need was greater than theirs.

Having grown bored with the delights of Caldera I headed north, following the weathered signs for a place called Hla Oad. The lushness of West Gash soon gave way to the different lushness of the Bitter Coast. There were insects buzzing everywhere and strange twisted fungi sprouted from the bases and trunks of the gnarled trees. The road, now heading downwards at a steep angle went past an ancient burial site, which the cartouche identified as the Norvayn Ancestral Tomb. Vast strands of ancient creepers overhung the door, whose rotting timbers sprouted more of those unpleasant looking fungal growths. Shivering slightly despite the heat, I carried on my way.

As the road wound it way around deep and rank-smelling pools, I soon found myself walking past the bulk of another of those ancient forts. According to my map, it was the fortress of Hlormaren but, after my experiences in Telasero, I was in no mood to venture inside and explore. So it was, by this circuitous route that I returned to Balmora and my welcoming bed.

[b]Here Ends the Second Part of the Tale of Sudhendra Vahl

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A great ending of this chapter......now we eagerly awaite the thrilling continuation....... :lickinglips:

[Lucidarius]

I was informed that Master Aryon was in his chambers atop the mushroom-tower. I’d Void-Walked to Tel Vos after breaking my fast earlier at the ‘Razor’s Hole’ in Balmora. There appeared to be no easy way to reach the chambers, other than clambering to the top of one of the towers and hoping there was a hatch or doorway that led outside. Carefully mustering the shape in my mind, I spoke the words “aer amo calx” and walked upwards towards the tower, the emptiness beneath my feet supporting my weight.

<snip>

I was in a fairly black mood as I translocated to Ald’ruhn and boarded the silt-strider to Gnisis. This just wasn’t fair it wasn’t fair at all. How was I supposed to persuade a snooty, stuck up, and powerful Telvanni mage to do something he, presumably, didn’t want to do? And then a glimmer of a plan came to me. It was a long shot, but it just might work.

Dear moderators,

This above text part is missing on the main page of the Fan Fiction, too. (There's another part missing in chapter one, I wrote a post in the appropriate thread.)

I only discovered it now, because I've started reading this excellent story from the main page's assembled chapters and not in these forums.

Sincerely,
Lucidarius