Chapter LVIII -- Divayth Fyr
14 Mid Year (Day 303) early morning
Getting to the Corprusarium meant traveling to Tel Fyr, a Telvanni tower located on an island southeast of Sadirth Mora, far to the east of Balmora. Though such a journey sounds tedious, especially for somebody suffering a disease, all Joan had to do after leisurely planning her trip was (after a frantic search for Fast Eddie) was to start by walking from Balmora's Guild of Fighters to the Guild of Mages (literally next door) and then teleport to the Guild of Mages in Sadirth Mora, hundreds of miles away. There were no boats for hire on this island unfortunately, so she water-walked to the island of Tel Fyr itself, followed by her trusty pack guar. As expected, it took a few days and hours to find Tel Fyr, walking stolidly over water, fighting occasional crabs and cliff racers, and so on. The Telvanni tower she finally located on the forlorn island was not an intimidating structure at all, as Daedric ruins or old Dunmer forts always were. Still, she hesitated entry, planning what to wear, setting up camp with her guar, and so on. The Telvanni tower on the island comprised a collection of podlike structures joined by tubes and elbows. After dallying a bit outside, Joan made her way into the tower, as the low-grade fever within her soul continued to simmer. Because that was the thing about this disease; other than recoloring her skin,it didn't necessarily have much effect upon her physical person (not yet, anyway), its symptoms mostly occurred deeper within. Chances are if she'd delayed this trip for instance, her body would eventually begin aching as well. After X amount of time she'd be deformed and fragile just like Dagoth Gares had become. Toughest part of the final, water-striding portion of the trip was aiming herself somewhat southeast while on land, judging the direction she'd need from shadows on the ground, and then walking off whatever beach she stood upon, passing by numerous inlets and by several smaller islands, looking for a tower with only a vague description from the locals. She became lost at least a couple times, but not frustratingly so.
But Joan by then had become quite the accomplished adventurer. She located Tel Fyr after just two attempts and less than two days, for instance. Compare this to the multiple days needed to locate the tower of Vas several months ago.
First thing she did upon arrival was removed her Imperial Legion armor, replacing it with commoner's clothing. She also left her magical shield behind; chances are she would not need it? This journey should be a peaceful endeavor, in theory, so she hoped. But also, by now she'd become well aware that many Dunmer deep into Vvardenfell were not impressed, sometimes offended, by Imperialistic armor. She also double-checked her belongings, making sure the Dwemer "Coherer", the "gift" for Divayth Fyr which Caius had given her, was transferred from her guar to her rucksack, along with a thousand drakes. These, she'd eventually present to the man who could hopefully then cure Joan from corprus.
"My time is precious so make it quick!" a female Dunmer spellsword wearing bonemold snapped at the crusader, just after entering the tower. Aye, a tower; and a Telvanni tower at that. Its inside walls were intricately carved in many sections, its coloring golden; not the typical mass of organic, lichen-like material most other structures of Azura's Coast had been constructed from, yet its origins also did not seem Dwemer. Paper lanterns hung from the ceiling, making what would otherwise be a virtual cave into a well-illuminated experience.
"I am Joan of Cyrodiil," the crusader began, "sussing to confer with Divayth Fyr, in regards to the disease I now carry," she finished, pointing to her petulantly palored face. Might as well be completely upfront about why she's here.
Despite the gravity of her statement, the spellsword couldn't help but get a bit cheeky. "He's up above in his study. I hope you can fly!" she added with a haughty laugh. "You can't get up there unless you can fly. Or have potions."
Not a problem for Joan of course, who had already acquired the spell of Levitation from Heem-La, the Argonian Spellmaker of Ald'ruhn's Guild of Mages. She might fail to cast this spell a time or two (as it was still a bit advanced for her middling abilities at Alteration), but she also had plenty of potions to quaff for recovering magicka, if so.
Joan walked deeper into the complex, in which other inhabitants echoed the same information as the spellsword. "We get few visitors here," said another highbrow Telvanni, also female, wearing bonemold. "You CAN levitate, can't you...?"
Joan remained patient, her face stoic. "I had that very spell scribed into my book several weeks ago, aye." No eye-rolling or knitted brows, at least externally.
"I'm afraid we aren't set up to accommodate barbarians or peasants," the woman then said, implying the Crusader from Cyrodiil might be some swill-drinking marauder in the habit of cracking bottles upon her skull, or had shown up to Tel Fyr without money. "Go up the ramps to the Hall of Fyr, then walk around. Keep looking upwards until you see a shaft above you. Then levitate. Lord Fyr should be in his study."
Finally! -- These directions, however, surprised Joan Marie.
Keep looking upwards....? What kind of strange place had she wandered into?
Joan complimented the woman, earning a respectable reply. She followed instructions. Walked up a ramp and turned a corner, and through the door to the Hall of Fyr. Once inside the hall she began looking ... upwards. Feeling a bit silly while doing so. Fortunately, she didn't need to explore very far; the very first chamber she entered had a very obvious 'tube' which ascended into what looked to be a higher section.
"Right."
Joan raised her arms and focused her mind for a few moments. It'd been several days since she'd previously cast this spell. Levitation is a demanding bit of magic for her; about half the time she'd tried it in the past, the spell fizzled. But now she got it right, first time. Purple essences surrounded her being as she gestured her hands. Two seconds later she was floating upward.
"He's in his study," yet another woman wearing bonemold directed once Joan emerged at the top. "But he's busy," she added with a scowl. "He's always busy." This madam seemed annoyed by the newcomer's arrival, yet she also seemed surprised. Probably not every day that a pale-faced Breton shows up in here, ballooning her way to the top!
"May the rest of thy morning evanesce into a glorious day," Joan graced the short-tempered woman with complimentary words she did not entirely deserve.
"I'll take that as a compliment," Short Temper smiled.
After an entire year of speaking inspirational quips and tidbits to the various citizens and natives she'd encountered, Joan Marie had become quite effective with words. Her abilities to persuade and please and even entertain others had become nearly bard-like at times, despite her shyness.
Joan stumbled around the upper tower without finding the so-called study, fearing she might need to fly even higher into an attic. Meanwhile, the air up here was humid and stuffy, causing her some shortness of breath. Fortunately, she found Divayth Fyr soon afterward. The man wore some of the most exquisite armor Joan had ever seen; obviously a very important Dunmer.
"Quickly outlander, I haven't much time!" Fyr greeted impatiently. As though his demand to assist others with dreadful diseases had risen to monumental echelons as of late. The sorcerer's den he commanded contained expensive-looking tomes, and was decorated with rare items upon its shelves, but nobody else was here!
"I have come from afar to offer you this," Joan said, handing over the rarity, the Dwemer "Coherer" given to her by Caius.
Right away, Cosades's idea of a gift appeared to be a mixed decision. Divayth coveted the treasure with immediate intensity, stating he'd add it to his 'collection' right away. - Yet he was also suspicious of Joan's intent. "So, why have you tried to butter me up?" he questioned grandly. "Come to consult the great Divayth Fyr? Have you the divine disease? Want to plunder my dungeon? Or leer at my daughters?"
Ever the pious individual, Joan insisted she's not here to pick his brain, invade his dungeon, or (gasp!) leer at his kin. "As can be seen, I am infected with corprus."
Is this really not so obvious? - All across Vvardenfell folks had been instructing her to
"stay away from me"! as her affliction could plainly be seen. Nobody wanted to catch
"whatever you have". Yet here was finally a man who could supposedly provide a cure, and he did not seem so concerned about her "divine disease".
"Did you know corprus makes you immune to disease?" the sorcerer inquired.
In true Vvardefellian fashion, he then began rambling about the prophecies of the Nerevarine, and how the Ashlanders seem awed that
their supposed prophet was said to be unable to catch diseases. "Maybe I even have the Nerevarine in my Corprusarium, and don't even know it!" he speculated, half-joking.
But Joan was not amused. She began explaining her plight as if talking to a dunce. Still though, were the words Divayth spoke actually true? Was she really, currently, immune to all diseases due to the one which currently plagues her?
"So. You might be the Nerevarine...."
"I am NOT!" Joan could not help but interrupt. For now she worried that due to what seemed to be an upcoming segue, the sorcerer might decide not to help her with a cure; he suddenly seemed so infatuated with her sickness. But then he revealed that there was a potion which might help.
"I want you to look around in the Corprusarium below," he suggested, causing Joan some consternation. "Do you know what's in store if you don't take the potion....?"
"But I have every intention of quaffing it! 'Tis why I have sojourned all this way...!"Divayth nodded. But (of course) no one ever helps another in these sorts of tales unless they've received something first, correct? - A lost treasure, a service of some sort, a request to kill a jealous opponent, and so on. In this case, Divayth requested Joan go into the Corprusarium below, then retrieve a pair of boots from a "victim" named Yagrum Bagarn. "My oldest patient," the sorcerer explained. "Handy fellow, fixes things for me. Bring the boots to Divayth, and a potion shall be granted."
Joan of Arkay cannot help but literally flee the man's sanctuary once his quest has been given, floating back down the way she came. Thankfully she'd gotten here now rather than later. Because those who waited too long would eventually become heavily deformed.... like Dagoth Gares.
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Dwemer Coherer Divayth FyrNotes: Hopefully the 2 inset pictures won't stretch this page on different browsers. Let me know.
2). It's not mentioned, but Joan got into a fight with the short-tempered woman after she got offended by her.This caused things to go wildly astray until I resolved things with a trip to UESP.

Some NPCs in this game can be so darn rude!!!