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Trey In Mournhold, Chapter 1 |
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treydog |
Aug 1 2005, 07:24 PM
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Master

Joined: 13-February 05
From: The Smoky Mountains

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Trey in Mournhold
Foreword (a portion) By Quintinius Axibiades, Senior Librarian
The following narrative is copied from a manuscript discovered in the Vvardenfell province of Morrowind. The verifiable events noted in the original indicate that it was written sometime after 3E 427. Of the purported author, little is known. As the manuscript was discovered at Bal Isra, near the outpost town of Ald’ruhn, some credence may be given to the writer’s claim that he was a member of the so-called “Great House” known as Redoran. On the other hand, a great many books and papers were discovered at the same locality, so this piece may simply have been part of a collection. The narrator’s reference to himself as integral to a particular barbarian prophecy is an example of a plot device designed to increase interest in the story. Given the sensational and fantastic nature of some the events described, the writer most probably hoped to turn a profit by writing a popular fiction woven around known personalities and events. As far as can be determined, that hope was not realized, as no other versions of this manuscript are known to be extant.
The writing itself, while literate (barely), is not that of an educated or scholarly individual. It is plain, even crude at times; perhaps the early work of a young scribe with too much imagination and inadequate supervision. As noted previously, the first person perspective and the author’s penchant for claiming to have been present or even directly involved in events of great significance point to an attempt to capitalize on the common masses’ taste for the sensational and the scandalous, particularly when it involves royalty and the gods. The anti-Imperial tone of the piece suggests yet another possibility- that the writer was some type of Dunmeri agitator and that this tale is an attempt at allegory. Ultimately, the identity of the author or authors is of little moment; history has rightly placed this “Trey of High Rock” on the midden heap and gone on to more important matters.
Regarding the events described in the manuscript, it is left to the careful scholar to draw his own conclusions. Our purpose is to preserve all examples of the written word, no matter how doubtful the veracity or merit of a given piece. Those with a serious interest in Imperial history are directed to the official “Histories” for accurate information.
As to the physical properties of the paper, ink, &c ………
Chapter 1
For reasons which will become clear, I hesitated for many years to write the full story of my time in Mournhold. However, I feel that the right of my family to know everything outweighs the risk of premature discovery. Much time has passed since the events I am about to relate, but an enemy can have a long memory and an even longer reach. It is as much to protect my family as to tell the true story that I turn once more to my journals. The tattered, stained pages carry me back to a time when the idea of a family was as distant as the stars, when the idea that I would have any future at all was questionable. You see, someone wanted very much to kill me….
I had been unceremoniously carried off to Vvardenfell; told that, willing or not, I was a member of the Blades; and advised to “get some seasoning before I got myself killed.” With great reluctance and even greater complaining, I proceeded with the business of learning to stay alive on that frontier island. Numerous bandits and native creatures tried to cut short what I intended to be a long and profitable existence. Worse yet, I had managed to annoy the local criminal organization, as well as to draw the unfavorable attention of servants of the mad demigod, Dagoth Ur. To add that last bit of spice to my already overfull plate, someone had set the Dark Brotherhood upon me. Because that last seemed to me to be the province of the Imperial Legion, I went to them to seek assistance, just as any righteous citizen should do. The Empire’s response, in the words of Apelles Matius, Military Governor, could be summarized as,
“The Dark Brotherhood, eh? That’s too bad. You should probably do something to solve that problem. And don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
Although that was no more than I had expected from the Legion, it nevertheless enraged me to the point that I decided to do just the opposite. Rather than investigate the Dark Brotherhood, I decided to ignore them, to go on about my business as if nothing had happened. That might have worked if my business had not involved annoying all those various groups I mentioned earlier. In fact, I did more than just annoy the Camonna Tong; I destroyed their outpost in Balmora. The carnage there did not satisfy me, though, and I vowed to dedicate my remaining days to hunting down every member I could find of the criminal enterprise. Before I could put that plan into effect, fate intervened in the form of a Khajiit slave named Rabinna. That unfortunate creature was being used to smuggle the illegal drug, moon-sugar, by the expedient of having her swallow the packets. When she reached the buyer, he would murder her to retrieve the drugs. Her “owner” mistook me for the escort who was to take the slave to her bloody fate. Desiring to hurt the Camonna Tong in any way possible, I did nothing to correct that misperception. However, as soon as I had discovered the truth, I took Rabinna to the Argonian Mission in Ebonheart, a place where she assured me she would be safe. When I left the mission, I wandered the Imperial port, wondering what I should do next. The smell of the sea air and damp stone awoke in me a deep melancholy, perhaps accentuated by the release of the rage that had possessed me for several days. If I was not going to engage in a suicidal vendetta against the Camonna Tong, it might be wise to absent myself from Vvardenfell for a time. No one had any hold on me for the moment, but where could I go? My wandering steps had brought me to the doors of the Grand Council Chamber and I remembered a name- Asciene Rane. She was the mage who could get me to the mainland, to Morrowind’s capital. Due to the Blight, all ships from Vvardenfell were under quarantine; no one from the island was allowed onto the mainland. But if Asciene could get me to Mournhold, I might be able to find my way out…and go anywhere that my feet could carry me.
Having made things too hot for myself in Vvardenfell, a trip to the city of Mournhold suddenly seemed to be just the thing. Somehow, the idea of poking my nose into the Dark Brotherhood’s business conjured visions of frying pans and fires, but one risky venture seemed as good as another. Before I went to Asciene, I reviewed what little I knew of the Dark Brotherhood. It wasn’t terribly comforting, but did give me some ideas. Unlike the Morag Tong, the Brotherhood worked strictly for money. Since they accepted some portion of their fee up front and the rest upon completion, they would keep trying until they succeeded- or until they were …discouraged. I also reminded myself that they were hired killers, which meant someone had done the hiring. And that individual was someone I very much wanted to meet. Thus it was that two of my primary motivations- vengeance and escape- came together.
Asciene was more than a little curious about my reasons for desiring transport to Mournhold; in fact, she was rather suspicious. Rather than attempt to weave a convincing lie, I told the truth- I had been targeted by assassins. At the mention of the Dark Brotherhood, her impassive expression slipped and genuine concern showed in her eyes. Warning me that the Dark Brotherhood was not to be taken lightly, she agreed to transport me to Mournhold whenever I was ready. In addition, she gave me a note for Effe-Tei, the mage who could return me to Ebonheart. Thus it was, that I arrived in Mournhold, armed with nothing more than a sword and a thirst for answers.
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The dreams down here aren't broken, nah, they're walkin' with a limp...
The best-dressed newt in Mournhold.
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Replies(60 - 76)
Lucidarius |
Aug 28 2005, 09:59 PM
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Evoker
Joined: 11-June 05
From: East of the sun, west of the moon

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Pursuasion was a good way to solve the dilemma and free Dilborn. I remember getting into a fight resulting in poor Dilborn ending up dead.
I agree with Kiln regarding the book. You're a master in evoking those images in the reader's mind with little details like Trey keeping the book.
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Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied, And vice sometime's by action dignified. Shakespeare: Romeo and Juliet II, 3
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Wolfie |
Aug 29 2005, 10:43 AM
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Mage

Joined: 14-March 05
From: Dublin, Ireland

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Hehe, i just paid the guy the trifling sum of 3000 septims and went about my business  Grat update Treydog This post has been edited by LoneWolf: Aug 29 2005, 10:43 AM
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 D�anaim smaoineamh, d� bhr� sin, t�im ann - Descartes Only the dead have seen the end of war ~ Plato Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed. - G.K. Chesterton EnsamVarg
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treydog |
Aug 31 2005, 01:07 AM
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Master

Joined: 13-February 05
From: The Smoky Mountains

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So now I was stuck in Mournhold, with no money nor any prospects for earning any. I briefly considered recovering my thousand drakes from Drathas, but dismissed the idea. While I might succeed in such an endeavor, chances were that the repercussions would affect Dilborn and Thrud, and that was a result I did not desire. After all, Drathas was probably just one part of a larger criminal enterprise. Now that Dilborn was safe, though, I could investigate the sewers further. Perhaps I could find out what the goblins had been doing down there; perhaps I could find some merchandise lying around loose, just waiting for an enterprising individual to pick it up and sell it. Even though the problem of the goblins had nothing to do with me, it was a puzzle. And I didn’t like to leave unsolved puzzles- they have a way of making your life miserable. At any rate, it seemed that this section of the sewers should be fairly safe now, with the exception of Drathas and his crew, who I intended to leave strictly alone.
Note to self- never assume anything is safe.
Postscript to note- never assume anything at all.
Because I believed that all of the actively hostile creatures had been removed, I did not take even the most fundamental precautions, such as casting Beggars Nose. Thus, the first clue I had that anything was amiss was the sound of several quite large “somethings” splashing through the waters of the sewers and coming closer. Startled, I turned to see what was causing the noise and beheld a nightmare creature. The beast was a sickly green color, ran on four legs, and sported a massively-armored head equipped with four sharp, slightly curved tusks. In the gloom beneath the streets, I could only estimate the size, but it appeared to be some 15 to 18 feet long from snout to tail-tip. And it did not seem friendly. At last, the efficient little botanical/zoological portion of my brain combined all of the sensory input, compared it to the catalog of known or described creatures and presented a conclusion- Durzog. Also known as a “sludgepuppy,” the Durzog was used by the goblins as a sort of huge war-dog. The beasts were quite loyal, excellent trackers, and extremely hard to kill. They were also said to be somewhat smarter than the goblins who handled them. Just as the “Pocket Guide to the Creatures of Nirn” portion of my mind started to list the alchemical properties of Durzog flesh and speculate on the possibility of creating armor from Durzog scales, a different portion, the one devoted to keeping me alive, interrupted with some pungent advice. That advice took the form of: “Run, you idiot!”
Suiting action to thought, I darted back through one of the arches and began to frantically look for a defensible position. I knew that levitation would probably be an effective defense again, but I wanted something more. A pile of collapsed masonry and stone columns gave me an idea- I wanted the Durzog to be able to see me, to think it could get to me, and I wanted to be safe if the levitation wore off unexpectedly. A potion took me to the top of the pile and a muttered “bogha tromhad” conjured the longbow I needed. In an instant, the Durzog had rounded the corner, where it met with an arrow in the soft flesh at the base of its head. The resultant roars were nearly deafening, but the goading of the arrow ensured that the creature would not lose interest and get out of range. It required several more carefully placed shots before the beast finally collapsed. In the meantime, its hunting roars had alerted a couple of friends, which fortunately met a similar fate. It occurred to me that I was soon going to need more and perhaps better arrows if I intended to spend much time in Mournhold. The Dark Brotherhood armor and enchanted silver long sword that had served me well enough in Vvardenfell were barely adequate. Stealth and marksmanship were going to have to serve me- I could not win hand-to-hand battles with the creatures I was seeing here.
Before entrusting myself to the walkways of the sewers again, I cast Beggars Nose to make sure there weren’t anymore four- (or six- or eight-) legged surprises waiting for me. The spell revealed nothing of interest and my explorations confirmed that impression. As for the goblins and their pets, all I found were a few indications that they had been there- but nothing that pointed to any sort of camp or bivouac. If not for the unmistakable evidence of the bodies scattered around and the new scars on my leg, they might never have been here. The signs did seem to originate from one area, a flooded passage that apparently went into some other section of Old Mournhold. I stared at it for a long time, my desire to solve the mystery warring with my distaste at the idea of submerging myself in that noisome pool. At last I turned away, firmly reminding myself that my business was not with the goblins. Little did I know that I would soon be swimming in even darker waters, both literally and figuratively.
Here Ends Chapter 1
With a tip of the biorraid to OverrideB1- you're right, spells are better with words.
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The dreams down here aren't broken, nah, they're walkin' with a limp...
The best-dressed newt in Mournhold.
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McBadgere |
Aug 31 2013, 08:08 AM
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Councilor

Joined: 21-October 11

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QUOTE(treydog @ Aug 7 2005, 07:54 PM) 
An excellent day!!...I remember it well!!...Nah, that's a lie...I've no idea what I was doing... Anyways... This is what I meant when I said I was going from the start...And then I find that even this isn't the start...  ... Hey-ho... Loved that first part...On this above second piece next... *Adjusts backpack*...Reet...On with the long haul...  ... Nice one!!... QUOTE(That man Kiln @ Aug 7 2005 @ sometimeorother) Very nice to see an update Trey. You have a very definative writing style.*Applause* What? Waitaminute!!!... Damn...I'm not original with the applauding?...  ...Oh...  ... *Applauds heartily anyways*...  ... This post has been edited by McBadgere: Aug 31 2013, 08:10 AM
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treydog |
Aug 31 2013, 12:34 PM
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Master

Joined: 13-February 05
From: The Smoky Mountains

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Oh... umm... Yes. Mostly because I wanted to do more writing, and also to answer someone's question "Where did Trey's wife come from?" (NOT looking at you, minque- nope)- I wrote the middle of the story after the other one was finished. IF you want to inflict yourself with that first effort, it can be found HERE, along with some quite good work by some others. As ever- thank you so much for reading.
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The dreams down here aren't broken, nah, they're walkin' with a limp...
The best-dressed newt in Mournhold.
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McBadgere |
Sep 1 2013, 06:39 AM
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Councilor

Joined: 21-October 11

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I will, indeed inflict myself with that at some point...But, as a wise man is fond of saying, I've started so I'll finish... Most likely I'll go through BOTM first though...  ... A couple of things I noticed as I was going through this though... Firstly, it's all so long ago!!...  ...2005-2007?!!... I hadn't realised how long ago BOTM had started!...Blimey, I'm so far behind...  ... Secondly, while Seth and Blackie are so obviously their own men...Whether it's just a consequence of third-person narratives, but the two stories are so similar in style it's spooky!... This first Trey chapter does definitely feel completely different to the Athlain chapters I've been reading from when I joined...Yes, passage of time/evolution of the writer etc...But just in general feel, it's more like Black Hand's Memoirs... I know my own brief foray into Third-Person with J'Zirlo's Journal thing didn't feel like this...  ...But hey, that's just me... Oh, and how long before you dropped the man of mystery routine?...You're so quiet on some of these early ones...  ...It's nice that you thank your readers, it's a nice thing to do, polite and all...  ...So what changed? and when?... Although, one thing that's not changed...Absolute brilliance...I've never played Morrowind...And given how brilliantly you write these quests out...I will never need to... I think Kiln (again) asked you about writing something original for Trey to do...Did that ever happen or did you just leave that for Athlain and his charging about after Daedric Lords?...  ... Fair dues, I'll just nip back in time and applaud you some back then as well...You well deserved it!... Nice one!!... *Applauds heartily*...
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Black Hand |
Sep 1 2013, 07:42 PM
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Master

Joined: 26-December 05
From: Where the sun shines everyday in hell.

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QUOTE(McBadgere @ Aug 31 2013, 10:39 PM)  Secondly, while Seth and Blackie are so obviously their own men...Whether it's just a consequence of third-person narratives, but the two stories are so similar in style it's spooky!...
This first Trey chapter does definitely feel completely different to the Athlain chapters I've been reading from when I joined...Yes, passage of time/evolution of the writer etc...But just in general feel, it's more like Black Hand's Memoirs... The Man was my mentor and inspiration. QUOTE Oh, and how long before you dropped the man of mystery routine?...You're so quiet on some of these early ones...  ...It's nice that you thank your readers, it's a nice thing to do, polite and all...  ...So what changed? and when?... Treydog is humble and modest to a fault. So much so, he would not even admit that he is modest and humble. We both share a complex with compliments: Whether deserved or not, we don't know how to respond and never truly think that we are deserving of them. Keep the 'Whhat?! Pish-tosh! You guys are great!" reaction saved, it's something that also drives us to improve and perfect our styles, and to not 'rest on our laurels' as it were. What changed was that I beleive someone told him or he realized that the whole 'quiet' thing may have across the wrong way, when no offense was intended. I beleive he said: "I consider it spamming my own thread." But, those compliments are appreciated all the same, believe it or not. The best way to see it is as a beautiful sunset that moves you, though you may tell it it is so it cannot respond to you, and it simply is. This post has been edited by Black Hand: Sep 1 2013, 07:42 PM
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ArtemisNoir |
Mar 11 2023, 08:00 PM
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Evoker
Joined: 28-January 15

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Thanks for the heads up that this is stand-alone, I couldn't precisely remember. Reading this again, I'm left with the same impressions I was before. That forward has to be one of the most self-deprecating introductions I have ever read! (and it does nothing to dissuade the reader from knowing it will be a grand read; indeed, it just furthers anticipation)  I love your descriptions of Mournhold, its sewers, and the way you slowly build intrigue, while providing a perfect balance of plot and levity.
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