The Tale of Sethyas Velas

Chapter three; Azura's Portents

Being dead is strange.

You can still feel the pillow underneath your head, likely in your coffin.

And you can feel the dressing on your wound. And the dull ache in your body from a potent poison from a hateful sister, who turns out to be a better assassin then you.

Then again, maybe I wasn’t dead after all. I could turn my body, barely. I could open my eyes, no? Oh well. Probably not much to see anyways.

Can I talk? “---h…hello?” I muttered weakly.

“Shh, get some rest, Sethyas. You’re lucky to be alive.” Said Caius voice.

“What?” I cried surprised. How did Caius find me?

“Nine Toes saw a strange Dunmer in town, looked a lot like you, without the facial tattoo of course. We were going to approach her first. But when we heard that she was actually looking for you, we decided to tail her instead, pardon the pun, Nine-Toes.”

“No problem.” The Lizard man hissed, continuing Caius’ story.

“At first it just seemed that she was looking for you. But I soon realize that she was hunting you. I too am a hunter, and began seeing that she was coming to and from a Daedric Ruin in Vivec, Ald Sotha. She saw you enter from a distance, as did I. She casted a powerful chameleon spell, but I could smell her the entire way into the shrine, where you killed the Imperial Lady.”

“The Night Mother.” I interrupted

“Yes, then after you went to leave, She struck with an incredible speed, with a poisoned blade. That was when I attacked her, and you were so close to death…..”

“And Setsuna?”

“She is dead, Muthsera. I beg your forgiveness.”

The pain filled me with an unfathomable sadness. I cried aloud, and screamed for her. For anything that was left of her to find its way to me.

Nine Toes hung his head in shame and left Caius’ house. Caius himself looked at me with a compassionate face.

“YOU! You swore! You promised that she would be left alive!” I said arising from the bed, my anger overcoming the incredible pain that wracked my body.

I swung at Caius, badly. Missing him easily. He caught me as I stumbled to the ground.

“Get some rest, Apprentice. There is nothing I can do now. If I could change what had happened I would have. But she was too far gone. Never forget that she was the one who stabbed you. She made her choice. One of you had to die. And quite frankly, I glad it wasn’t you.”

I bawled with my face buried in the pillow. I had nothing left. No. I had Ilmeni.
And as much as I hated myself for doing this to Setsuna, I couldn’t walk away.

“You know, Caius.” I said an hour later. “This was really all my fault. She became what she was because of me. Because I lied.”

“Honor her memory; keep her in your heart. You think I’ve never lost someone? I’ve lost so many agents and friends out here, that doesn’t make your loss any less, but as these Dunmer say, ‘Death does not diminish, and the ghost gilds with glory.’ You can let this destroy you, or you can draw strength from it. It really is your choice.” He said quietly.

I slept for what seemed like hours. Old memories of my childhood with her still raging through my mind. Those days were gone now. Forever.

Then an old memory of when I first came to Morrowind came again.

Fear Not, for I am watchful, you….have been chosen.


What was the strange voice? Who watched over me? Why was I forced to let go of anything good in my life?

I still had the unfinished business of the Morag Tong to complete, which would wait until morning.

Three weeks I lay bedridden. The poison coursing its way through my veins was the last thing my beloved sister gave to me. A bittersweet remembrance. And the poison brought with it strange dreams and wicked nightmares, indeed even in the few waking moments I had I would see things that were never there. More then once I would see Setsuna dying, as I stood paralyzed, unable to help her.

A thousand times I relived my greatest fear that had come to pass. At times I prayed that Sheogorath would take me into his realm, and relieve my mind of its self inflicted torture. Self hatred consumed me, and after my recovery, at least physically, I grew quiet and distant, well, moreso than usual, Caius making comments on it occasionally, I answered with silence.

Then when I felt able to, I left one morning, with Caius still asleep, to return to the Grandmaster, and to finish my business with the Morag Tong.

Eno looked as though he saw a ghost when he saw my grim visage staring at him, for the first time, I saw fear in the Mers eyes, more likely surprise.

"Sethyas ...you are alive....thank Azura! I thought that you had perished. no one had seen or heard from you..."

"A friend saved me....both the Night Mother and Setsuna Velas lie dead. The war has been over for some time, Grandmaster. I relinquish these Sanguine Tokens to the Morag Tong...." I said throwing a small sack to him filled with them I had recovered from Ald Sotha.

"Your Sister? Then..."

"She was too far gone. Nothing I could have done...."

"Enough for now, Master. I grieve your loss, but this is a time for rejoicement, we have won. The cost of life has been monumental on both sides, but this is the life we chose as Assassins."

I nodded absent-mindedly; my mind had been so far from my art for the last few weeks....

"For your reward, I present to you a sacred artifact of Mephala's, the Black Hands Dagger, this has been handed down from Grandmaster to Grandmaster for generations." he said handing me a Daedric dagger that hummed with an incredible power, each strike would rob the victim of his very life essence for a short time, transferring it to the wielder.

I then looked up at him at the words 'Grandmaster to Grandmaster' with a questioning look.

"Yes, Sethyas. My time in the Tong is nearing an end. It has come time for me to choose a successor. You have proven your loyalty and skill above all others in the guild. There is no question in my mind that you must now lead the Morag Tong."

I was speechless. This I never expected.

"Eno...I."

"Do you accept my friend?" Eno said; showing me affection for the first time.

"I do...I mean, I will, eventually. Please hear me, Eno. There are things that I must do first. Other commitments I have to fulfill."

"Than I promote you to Exalted Master, let all within the Morag Tong know that when you are ready, you shall take my place. Allow me to present you with your own ceremonial robes and black gloves."

I took the robes that were Identical to his own, which wore well over the Dark Brotherhood armor, making it easier for me to move about in public with it, the gloves did not afford the same protection as the gauntlets, but somehow they filled my character well, and I enthusiastically adopted my new look.

I thanked Eno, and I took my leave to see Ilmeni who was probably worried sick about me.

Setsuna´s death still bore heavily on me, my heart hurt every time I thought of her. But with her gone, I had no connections left to Cyrodiil, no kith or kin that laid claims to my heart, it had been my home for my whole life, but now all I cared about was here on Vvardenfell.

Even now I realize that my anger to Caius was my own anger towards a father I had never known. Caius was not my father, nor did I have any wish for him to act as such. But his self assurance, the sense of purpose that he had filled me with, perhaps all this was what I had been looking for my whole life.

Soon I would find that Vvardenfell had been waiting for me for millennia.

The cold winds of the Balmora morning flapped the folds of my robe as I gazed on the town from the silt strider port.

I knocked upon Caius door as he gave me nod, and an approving look of my new attire.

"Those dark gloves go well with your trade, Sethyas." he commented out of hand.

I stood stoic as ever.

"Well, nice to see your feeling better. Regardless, your ready now, and I have a mission for you. I need you to go to Vivec and speak with some friends of mine and gather up some information, I've written down the details for you, and here's some gold for expenses." he said handing me a small sack.

He did seem to have a twinge of sadness to him, I wondered if he thought that I blamed my sisters death on him, though my attitude did little to perish the thought from his mind, I blamed myself.

Regardless, I set out to Vivec seeking out the first name on his list, Huleeya, a guild mate from the Morag Tong, and an outlander Argonian.

Asking around the Foreign Quarter, I found him looking into a Shein, enduring insults from three drunken Dunmer. Sitting across from me, he recognized my robes. My explaining that I had come from Caius gave him a surprise.

"We cannot speak of this here. Come, let us leave for my friends’ bookstore, it is merely across the way, Jobasha will give us the hospitality we need, unlike here."

As we both got up to leave, My arm was grabbed by the bigoted idiot, and he threatened me in a voice that reeked of Mazte.

"Filthy Lizard lover! You're a traitor to your own kind! Taste my blade!" he yelled waving a steel dagger around.

Pushing him back, my katana sang as I unsheathed it, the motion enraging the other two Dunmer both that ran toward me, there short blades menacingly waved at me.

I pushed Huleeya back, my black leather gloves creaked as I gripped the Daedric Katana harder, and taking a defensive posture, the blade made a whooshing sound as it sliced through the air, and then the flimsy netch leather armor of the doomed Dark Elves, I entered the Zen state of mind that Goren had trained me in, and I entered into a dance of death.

With the gory scene of missing limbs and pools of blood lying before me, I tossed Caius' bag of gold onto the bar, as the publican dropped both his jaw and the bottle of Flin he was holding.

"Sorry for the trouble." I said as Huleeya and I hurriedly exited.

Walking into the bookstore, the smell of old tomes pleased my senses as I thought of the ancient knowledge that was held in the sacred pages, indeed I had become sort of a bibliophile in recent months, thinking back to the inspiration I had received from 'A Game at Dinner' during my writ on Guril Retheran.

"Their deaths sadden me, but I cannot forgive the poverty of spirit and narrowness of mind that assures them of their right to attack me for the sole reason of my race." Huleeya stated, summing up my thoughts exactly, but then again I was a Dunmer, and had my own prejudices even if I chose not to act on them. I found the Argonian peoples to be objective, and highly intelligent and insightful, indeed, they were refreshing to deal with. I still couldn’t bring myself to like bosmers however....

"Now then, these notes will explain to Caius what I know of the Nerevarine Cult, and why the temple persecutes false incarnates. I do not know why the Cult does not shrink from this, and calls them 'failed' incarnates instead, claiming that they are certain proof of Lord Nerevars return."

I thanked him and set out to my next informant. A Khajiit named Addhiranirr, reputed to be a Thieves guild member and lurking around the St. Olm´s Canton. She was expensive to find to say the least. Indeed no one in St. Olm´s even heard of her until I had greased their palms with few drakes.

Looking for her within the Saint Olm´s Sewers, I found a Khajiit female afraid of her own shadow.

"Who are you? Who sent you? Addhiranirr has never heard of Addhiranirr!"

I laughed aloud at her disavowing of herself.

"Fine, I am Addhiranirr, you going to tell the Census and Excise Agent?"

"Who? I'm here for Caius Cosades, kitty! Tell me what you know of the Sixth House."

"Ah, one of Caius' agents are you? Well then. Before I tell you what I know, you must get rid of census and excise agent, he wrongly claims that Addhiranirr owes back taxes, and so here I must hide until he leaves."

I winced at the form of exchange taking place here, Caius, as I've said before has some interesting friends.

An Imperial Taxman tugged on my sleeve as I nonchalantly walked by him.

"Excuse me, Sera. I am looking for a friend of mine; perhaps you've seen her, a Khajiit named Addhiranirr?"

"Addhiranirr? I think I heard a Khajiit referring to herself by that name at the docks as I arrived in Vivec this morning, something about passage to the mainland, if I'm not mistaken."

"She's going to the mainland? Damn that housecat!" He said in a furious tone as he ran off in a hurry.

I chuckled to myself; I was at least willing to help someone stick it to the Empire. And the Khajiit was more then willing to divulge information about the new Sixth House Cult.

"Before, smugglers used to boast loudly of what they did and they're contacts. Now they have a new employer, and they hush up like little kitties filled with sweetmeats. That is all I know. What they smuggle or why, who can say?"

I thanked her for the very little information that she provided me and cast Almsivi Intervention, appearing at the High Fane. I entered the Library of Vivec searching for Mehra Milo, a priestess and librarian whom Caius made special note not to endanger, as she was a particular friend.

My face appeared behind a book that she pulled out of a shelf, and I whispered my reason for being here, she looked around carefully, and pointed for me to meet her at a secluded spot in the back of the library.

"We can't be seen speaking with one another; the Ordinators have been watching me, as I have friends in the Dissident Priests. But I will tell you what I know of the Sixth House Cult." she continued explaining that she had never heard of a cult worshipping the fallen Dagoth Ur, but that it was a former house in the first era. She advised me to pick up a copy of the "Progress of Truth" and deliver it to Caius.

A quick trip to the bookstore later and I was in business. Finding a copy of the ‘Progress of truth’ as Mehra suggested giving a broader perspective upon the dissident priests and their stance on the Temple and its persecution of the Nerevarine Cult.

With notes and information gathered from each informant, I traveled back to Balmora, Caius devouring the information with intense eyes. For nearly an hour I sat down flipping a dagger in my hands, waiting for him to speak.

“All right, I reviewed the notes” Caius said, running a hand through what little hair he had left. “And I believe that we’re going to need an Ashlander informant.” Caius remarked with his eyes flitting about the room deep in thought.

“Hmm, I’ve heard of a wealthy trader in Ald’Ruhn, by the name of Hassour Zainsubani, whom apparently left the tribes to trade with the settled peoples. Take this hundred gold and find him, you’ll likely need to buy him a gift in order to persuade him to talk. But do it, and find out everything you can about Ashlander customs and the Nerevarine Cult from him.”

I took Caius Gold once more, and took the Silt Strider to Ald’Ruhn, it was difficult to find him at first, but I found him staying at the Ald Skar Inn, a leisurely gentleman Dunmer whom read as he sipped his brandy in the candlelight, a sight that filled me with hope that someday this might be me.

I approached him as politely as I could, and he looked up from his book with impatient eyes, speaking to me with an accent that I had never heard before.

“Excuse me, my friend, but I am at leisure at the moment, and I do not wish to be rude but I do not have the time for conversation.”

“I see, I merely had a question regarding the Ashlanders that I hoped you may answer, forgive my intrusion.”

“A question? Very Well, it would be rude of me not too answer just one. Go ahead.”

“What are their gift giving customs?”

“Ah, an interesting question, Ashlander Gift giving customs is something that is special and shared between friends. The gift must be carefully tailored to suit the receiver, the more personal the gift, the more thought it was shown that went into it. Myself for example, I am a lover of poetry, but no stranger can be expected to know this. Now that I’ve answered your question, would you mind?” he said, hinting that I should take my leave.

I thought over what Hassour had told me, and I smiled. He had clearly yet subtly told m that he wanted a book of poetry, I like subtle, and the publican was willing to tell me that Codus Callonus was a local bookseller and might have what I was looking for.

Perusing his stock, I read and bought ‘Words of the Wind’ a beautifully written poetry book, which I hoped would move Hassour as well.

Approaching the Mer once more, he smiled without looking at me. And I again politely interrupted him.

“Ah, this is a book for me? “Words of the Wind?” Exquisite, simple sentiments simply stated. Yes, you have shown me that you understand the gift giving custom, and I am now inclined to answer any more questions you may have.”

I smiled at him, actually glad to have partaken in his careful game. It was a manipulation to be sure but, done with such gentlemanly grace, I felt that I actually liked him more, rather than the reverse that I shooting for.

I sat with him, and shared a glass of his brandy, as he told me all he knew of the Nerevarine Cult, speaking in poetic verses, he gave me the impression that the Nerevarine was considered more or less a legend, nothing more, amongst the Ashlander Peoples, essentially it was a bedtime story that every child knew, that many, including Hassour did not choose to invest their belief in.

Rather then send me on my way, Hassour refilled my glass, and we continued our conversation about his life as a trader, though long since retired, he wondered as to the whereabouts of his son. Hannat Zainsubani.

“He has proposed to chart the rarely visited underground complexes of Mamea, west of Red Mountain, should you meet him in your travels, chide him, and tell him that his father wishes to know of his son and heir.”

I made a mental note of it, thinking little of it at the time, but I would search for this place at the very least, when my time allowed for it. In the meantime, I wasted no time returning to Balmora, where Caius happily accepted my notes on Ashlander Culture.

“I think its time to let you in on what’s been going on Sethyas.” Caius said pulling out the package I had delivered to him when first I arrived in Vvardenfell.

“This is a decoded version of the letter that accompanied you to me, in it you’ll find that the Emperor himself knew of you, and sent you to me, for the reason that appear to fulfill the Nerevarine Prophecies, it is the reason I have been sending you to all my informants, so that you would learn more of this, at first I thought that we were supposed to create a convincing imposter, but with all that you’ve told me as of late, I don’t know what to think, I’m still skeptical, but….could you truly be[/] the Nerevarine?”

Stunned, I read the package:

Spymaster Caius Cosades
Knight-Errant of the Imperial Order of Blades
Director of Imperial Intelligence in Vvardenfell District, Eastern Provinces

I have the honor to acquaint you with his Majesty's wishes concerning Sethyas Velas, an individual of no rank or consequence.

Sethyas has been released from prison by his Majesty's authority and sent to you with this missive. Sera Velas is to be entered as a Novice in the Imperial Order of the Blades, and is to serve under your absolute authority as you shall see fit, except insofar as his Majesty's particular wishes are concerned.

His Majesty's particular wishes are as follows.

A local superstition holds that an orphan and outcast, a youth born on a certain day to uncertain parents, shall unite all the tribes of the Dunmer, drive out the invaders of Morrowind, and shall reestablish the ancient laws and customs of the Dark Elven nations. This orphan and outcast is called in legend the "Nerevarine," and is supposed to be a reincarnation of the long-dead Dunmer General and First Councilor, Lord Indoril Nerevar.

Sethyas has the appearance of meeting the conditions of this local superstition. Therefore it is his Majesty's desire that he shall, insofar as is possible, satisfy the conditions of this ancient prophecy, and shall become the Nerevarine.

Though this prophecy is indeed only an ancient local superstition, his Majesty has taken counsel on this matter with his most expert informants and confidants, and his Majesty is persuaded that the prophecy is genuine and significant, either in its entirety, or in its several parts, and he earnestly demands you treat this matter with the utmost seriousness.

Certain aspects of this ancient superstition are described at the end of this document, and further materials will be forthcoming by courier at the earliest occasion. It will, of course, be necessary that you acquaint yourself better with the details of this ancient superstition from your local sources. Since this matter intimately concerns Sera Velas, it is expected that you will employ him to gather information on this subject. His Majesty has taken a great personal interest in the legends and prophecies of the Nerevarine, and eagerly awaits reports your reports.

I have the honor to be, Sir, your most Humble and Obedient Servant,

Glabrio Bellienus
Personal Secretary to the Emperor



I could not believe this, some local legend, a bedtime story as it were, that I was to either fulfill in its entirety or pose as much as was possible. I had lost my sister, I had lost my home, and I had been arrested as a bandit, an Assassin, no less. And now I was expected to be a reincarnation?

I laughed, louder and harder than I should have.

“This is a joke, right Caius? You wrote this to make me feel better? Your trying to get my mind off of Setsuna? Thank you, I needed a good laugh. Now then why don’t you tell me what’s really going on? Has all this been an elaborate ploy to punish my crime in Cyrodiil? Was the Orc trader I killed the Emperors Concubine? Well tell his Majesty, I am sorry, but I’m sure that he can find comfort in the scaly arms of an Argonian!” I yelled throwing the parchment on the ground.

Caius merely stood there, arms crossed, silently giving me a gaze that he was deadly serious about the whole matter.

“You think that I’m Nerevar? Skepticism aside, an outlander to this land, an ‘individual of no rank or consequence’ as the letter aptly stated, an Assassin is the glorious first councilor reborn? Or at least I’m supposed to pretend to be?”

“I don’t know what to think, the only thing that is clear is that this is not just some primitive superstition, and we will treat it seriously, just as his Majesty commands.”

I still could not believe any of this. I left his house and made my way to the Eight Plates, and began drinking. Heavily. Renting a room for the night, I experienced another of the waking dream.

In my dreams, a tall figure in a golden mask spoke to me. "Lord Nerevar Indoril, Hai Resdaynia! Long forgotten, forged anew! Three belied you, three betrayed you! One you betrayed was three times true! Lord Voryn Dagoth, Dagoth Ur, steadfast liegeman, faithful friend, bids you come and climb Red Mountain! Beneath Red Mountain, once again, break your bonds, shed cursed skin, and purge the n'wah from Morrowind!"

So it would seem that someone else felt that I was Nerevar. Lord Voryn Dagoth, Dagoth Ur. Was this the person responsible for the sleepers? Was I experiencing what others had been? These were not simple dreams, in spite of what Huleeya had told me.

bids you come climb Red Mountain; shed cursed skin and purge the n’wah from Morrowind!

“Fine, I’ll go to the Urshilaku Camp. With the agreement that, when they tell me that I am not the Nerevarine, you will drop the matter. I walk away from the Blades, and you wait for the next incarnation of Nerevar, just so you can feel just as silly as you must right now, Caius.” I said relenting to the Spymasters wishes.

“Very good, here’s two hundred drakes for you travel expenses, and stop by Fort Moonmoth for essential supplies. There’s a lot of blight diseases up in the northern wastes.”

”Gee, thanks for the concern” I said sarcastically. Caius showed no signs of offense being taken.

I departed for the Urshilaku Camp that very morning, after a long and treacherous walk through what must have been hell, ash storms twice as violent as those I had encountered in my brief stays in Ald’Ruhn forced me to wear the Morag Tong mask, which was indeed excellently crafted for the harsh environment.

I could see why the Ashlanders were proud of themselves for being able to survive in such a desolate environment, though I admit, I was still afraid to approach the Tribesmen that sat outside their yurts, tending to guar hides with chitin daggers.

“Bless and be blessed.” I said approaching an Urshilaku Dunmer Maiden, whom met me with a hostile stare. Truth was, I was uncertain of how to proceed. I was an Assassin, not a trader or diplomat.

“…Umm, perhaps I could offer you a gift? These Kwama eggs are rather fresh.” I said offering the picking from an Egg Mine I had to take shelter in from one of the many storms I encountered on the days long journey here.

She looked at the eggs and then took them with a slight smile.

“Ah, you are kind for an Outlander. And you are not proud, this is good. My name is Shallath-Pirenimus. What brings you out here all this way?”

Now this was the tricky part, do I tell the truth or tell a bold faced lie? My instincts were telling me to go with the latter. But my instincts had also told me to show that I was tough, and had I gone that route……

“I wish to know of the Nerevarine Prophecies.” I stated bluntly.

She immediately gave me a look that was equal parts confusion and offense. “No, No. You are an outlander, and it is not right that we should speak of you with these things. Maybe if you told me what you wished to know, I could help you more….but.”

“I may fulfill the prophecies, and wish to be tested by Nibani Maesa, the Wise Woman.” I blurted out, I don’t know who was more disbelieving of the statement myself or the poor woman whom would likely tell her grandchildren of the day that a crazy Dunmer n’wah came to her dressed in red robes and black gloves claiming to be the Nerevarine. I didn’t believe that I was, I just wanted to show myself and Caius, and voice in my dreams, that I was not.

“I cannot believe what I am hearing! But, you do not speak like a madman, or a fool. You speak with respect, and that is not something to be despised in an outlander, I tell you, go to Zabamunds yurt. He is a Gulakhan and will decide how to deal with you.”

Thanking her I took my leave and walked to his yurt, she laughed good-naturedly as I left. I lifted the fur door to the Gulakhans yurt, he barked at me for moment, but then waved a hand for me to come in.

“You wish to speak to Nibani Maesa? Only Sul-Matuul may permit this thing, and I tell you, he has no love for outlanders. What makes you think that you deserve an Audience with our Great Ashkan?”

There it went again, going with instinct, or going against the grain. I pulled out a small sack of coins.

“I respectfully wish to pay tribute for the right and the honor to speak with Sul-Matuul.” I said in my most humble tone. I was catching on quick that these Ashlanders were a very proud people. A weakness to be exploited perhaps.

“Yes, I think that your gold and your respect speaks well of you Sethyas Velas. Sul-Matuul may be angry with me, but I think I can deal with that. Go to him, and tell him that Zabamund has seen it proper that you may speak.”

I thanked him, and announced my presence outside the Ashkhan’s yurt, a simple barking command, and I entered into the hostile gaze of the lined face and hooded red eyes of a Mer that I found awe-inspiring. He held himself with an incredible stature, and discipline.

“So, Zabamund has seen fit to allow an Outlander to speak to the Ashkan of the Urshilaku, very well, Sethyas Velas. Speak your words.”

I told him of my appearance to fulfill the Nerevarine Prophecies, and my wish to be tested against the signs. He listened carefully, showing no signs of his thoughts or emotions.

“I see. But the only people, who may join the Nerevarine Cult, are members of the tribes. No Outlander may even gaze upon the Wise Woman.” He said with a grim tone.

I started to thank him for his time before he cut me off.

“However, I see merit and honor in you. Should you perform a task that I set before you, I may be willing to adopt you as a Clan friend. But as I said you must prove yourself, you must undergo a harrowing.”

”A harrowing.” I repeated, not liking the sound of the word one bit.

“A harrowing.” He repeated, more stern this time. “Deep within the Urshilaku Burial Caverns, you must seek my Fathers Bone biter Bow. Sul Senipul was a great warrior, and should you return with this, you will have proven your worth to me.”

I raised an eyebrow as he described the location, and the undead guardians of the tomb. Was I willing to go through all this to prove I was not an Incarnate, False, failed, or otherwise?

I still didn’t know what was motivating me to go along with the Ashkhan’s wishes, nonetheless, here I was trudging through the Ashlands searching for the tribes Ancestors resting place. Perhaps it was my desperation to be rid of the Blades, of the Nerevarine Prophecies. To go back to a ‘normal’ life of an Assassin, perhaps lead the Morag Tong.

Finding the door was not difficult at all, nor was dispatching several skeletons at the entrance with my Daedric Katana. I took my time with this one; there was no telling where the bow was, or what else was in here.

Besides, the thought of what loot may be in here, was rather thrilling, not to say that I’m a grave robber, but the idea that I may find some well valued artifact certainly took the edge of the possibility of dying off a bit.

Indeed, at the bottom of a small pool just to my right when I first entered, there was a Dreugh Cuirass, the sheer durability and rarity of these would fetch a couple thousand drakes minimum, well worth the weight.

Pushing forward deeper into the tomb, I found myself in a large chamber with a stone walkway leading up hundreds of feet into the air, the cool air in the dark tomb blowing gently into my face. I considered casting a levitation spell, but my skill in Alteration was not quite advanced enough to guarantee that I could cast the spell, as I needed to reserve my magicka for other things, so I relied instead on my Acrobatics, which was quite advanced.

Jumping to and from the ledge and the central stone column I recovered several small bits of jewelry that the mummies held onto in death. But one of them held another treasure that was worth more than anything else I had found in the tomb. A Glass Claymore enchanted with the ability to significantly resist magic, with an inscription in the hilt that read ‘Magbane’.

From the highest ledge, I also managed to jump onto the highest wall ‘tomb’. Here, a mummy held a Wizards Staff. Identical to what I had seen Edwinna Elbert, and Ranis Arthys carry in the Mages Guild, I well knew the enchantment. Levitation for a limited time, as well as fortifying ones skill in the unarmored discipline. I grabbed it for the usefulness it would bring in the Tomb. I now glided through the air, reaching another wall tomb, this one guarding a pair of glass greaves.

Glass armor is perhaps the most wondrous of all light armors, comparable to ebony and Daedric in its protection; it is unfortunately not well suited to the Assassins trade, better serving perhaps an Archer, or Rogue, the construction isn’t entirely designed for stealth, including the fact that glass reflects a great deal of light, I would perhaps start a collection of Glass Armor for the sheer joy of owning it, or for when I may have to make use of it, but for the meantime, I would continue to wear the black armor I had found on a Dark Brotherhood Assassin.

In a room marked Fragile Burial, I heard a grave silence woven with low lighting. The drip, drip, of water was disturbed by the sloshing sounds of my boots entering the ankle high waters.

Directly ahead of me, there were two standing stone columns; I was able to leap atop either one, though neither yielded any treasure. A passageway to my left brought me to a another mummy raised high on the stone platform, this one clutching a book, called ‘Feyfolken’ it had several good points on the Enchant Discipline, which I made a mental note of.

The passageway that had been to my right when I had entered, Yielded little treasure, and certainly no bow. But, there was a small key next to the mummy, with the words “Worm Lord’ scratched on it. I almost thought nothing of it as I went to leave, I looked at the portion of the floor that went deeper into the entrance of the cave, under the water, and I found a stone cavern door, scratched with the words, “Worm Lords Tomb The key fit in nicely, and I surfaced into a hidden tomb, with a Nice Ebony Helm, and A Glass Tower Shield, a book called “The Mystery of Princess Talara part 4.”

I also met a large spell-casting skeleton, no doubt the Worm Lord himself. Nonetheless the fell creature could not stand up to my Daedric Katana. I left the Fragile Burial, as I found no Bow of any kind within it.

My next raid brought me to the Kefka Burial, being met with a large number of Skeletons, I kept my distance with my on Bonemold Bow, the silver arrows bringing the bony guardians to a heap. Examining the tomb, I found little of value, and no bow. As I was about to leave, I noticed the gleam of to metallic objects on a small springs ledge, picking them up, I realized that these were Daedric Darts. These were too rare and precious to either use or sell, they would become prized trophies. But still no Bow.

Next burial chamber, named Kakuna, was another slightly flooded chamber, with no bow, but several scrolls and a portcullis hidden behind a waterfall that contained a Devil Cephalopod Helm, and a small chest with several precious gems within it. All the contents of this tomb I also took with me.

Then finally within the Juno Burial, I found a wraith floating about, the bone chilling screams of the tortured spirit, scared even I. Dispatching it with several Silver arrows, I found within its ectoplasmic remains, the Bow of Sul-Senipul. Now I had to return to Sul-Matuul.

Exiting the tomb, I was fortunate enough not to be stuck in the middle of an ash storm. I also realized that I was not about to approach the Ashkan Sul-Matuul with his ancestors treasures. Hitting the Daedric Shrine that the camp was close too, I made short work of the inhabitants, claiming yet another Sanguine Token. Exiting the shrine, and leaving my treasures behind, I walked towards the shore to return to the Ashkan, only to notice a worn cavern door at the very base of the mound that Assurnabitashpi sat upon.

Removing my robes, I applied my Dark mask, casting a simple Night-Eye spell; the near pitch-black cavern illuminated its rocky walls only to my eyes. Clutching the shaft of my bow, the weight felt right in my hands, the arrow that I held seemed to fill some longing in me, proceeding slowly in a half draw, the caverns bluish glowing crystals seemed to make this a focal point of magic energy, that is, this was not a typical smugglers cavern, no. This was a Sorcerers Cavern.

Though I am a member of the Mages guild, my view on mages is that they are a sad lot. Wizards are self centered, alone. Though their iconoclastic tendencies are admirable, I do not view it as a worthy exchange of the world around you. Power serves only to maintain itself, as I have said before. To me, true power comes from skill, and self control.

Even a Mage has little defense against a poisoned silver arrow piercing the heart. As the Breton Woman whom tried to cast a spell at me soon discovered, I sent her servant scamps back to Oblivion with the Black Hands Dagger, there life essence transferred to me.

Examining the cave, I noticed two doors. One was dark, with the sounds of water sloshing behind it. The other had a dim torchlight, with the scratching sounds of a quill being moved across parchment, I took the latter.

A High Elf Female noticed the black clad assassin enter her room. Me, that is, and she leapt from her table where she was writing, and unsheathed a chitin dagger, while casting lightning at me. Both her dagger and spell missed me, though not by much. Knowing the Altmer weakness to magicka, my fingertips glowed with the ‘Five Fingers of Pain’ spell, and I brought my outstretched fingers to her abdomen, the muscles tensed as she breathed in deeply, and her body grew limp within my hands. I set her corpse down gently, as I made my way to her table, to investigate what she had been writing.

According to her notebook, her name was ‘Elante’ and she believed that this Cavern, named Ibar-Dad was the final resting place of Mordrin Hanin, some sort of Nord Noble from the First Era, when Vvardenfell was under the rule of Skyrim.

Using a small key that she had, I opened the second door, and casted water breathing spell, and swam through what seemed to be the underside of a Daedric Shrine, I realized that this was the very foundations of Assurnabitashpi. Rising from the water, I climbed onto a ledge, immediately I was greeted by two Dremora, armed with an Ebony Longsword and a Daedric Dai-Katana, a longer version of my own Daedric Katana.

The two warriors of Oblivion stared me down with a deathly visage, and a hatred that spoke of millennia behind it. Unsheathing my Katana, I ran towards the Daedra as they got into defensive stance, flipping over them, I tried to get a couple of swings on the one with the Dai Katana, easily blocking my moves, the other Dremora swung the ebony longsword, slicing my armor, and the skin underneath easily, I had to switch tactics.

The Black Hands Daggers’ energy hummed in my hand, its hunger was fed with the life force from the two Dremora, as I frantically sliced and thrusted the dagger through the weak points in their armor, the wound in my chest closing up as the Vampiric spell restored me back to full health. Reaching into the remains of the banished Dremoras, I clutched the Daedra’s Heart and held it high, as I yelled.

It was a strange feeling. At once Shamanistic and a release of the cold fear that enveloped me as I faced them, defeating powerful Daedra is not a tale that many can boast of. Though only the Dagger that Eno had given me had saved my life.

Looking about the surroundings, I moved my hands about a smooth cold door, thick and carved of stone, I found a keyhole and moved a pick inside it, though it took some doing, I managed to pick the lock, and moved a probe about the door dislodging some wires that held some trap to further protect the tomb.

Opening the door, a Golden-Skinned Valkyrie swung fiercely at me with a Glass Claymore, the blade striking hard against the cold floor as I barely managed to jump back. Frustrated with the constant attacks, I yelled as I mustered all my magicka, which was considerable for an Atronach Birth sign. The intense spell of ‘Gods Fire’ released itself from my outstretched palms, the searing flames burning away the Golden Saint, perhaps the most powerful of the Daedric Servants.

Spent, I drank a health, magicka, and fatigue restorative. And looked about the tomb, in front of me a Skeleton lay with a Daedric Battle-Axe, and Daedric Shield, and on either side of me lay two chests with eight skulls with Ancient Silver Daggers protruding from there foreheads. The daggers themselves were heavily enchanted with a potent poison spell. Grinning beneath my mask, I wondered if it was my birthday as I grabbed the hilt of one of the daggers and unsheathed it from the skull.

No sooner had I done this, and then a shrieking ghost appeared before me. Another tomb guardian it would seem. More so, the only thing keeping the maddened spirit trapped within the skull was some sort of ritual with the dagger.

Slicing at the creature, the poison did not affect its form, which was logical, how does one poison a ghost? But the arcane properties of the silver dagger did disperse its essence back to Aetherius. Taking mercy upon the remaining spirits, I released them from their earthly prisons by taking the daggers from the remaining seven skulls.

Pulling out a leather belt from underneath my armor, I quickly constructed a multiple sheath chest strap, and I now had eight Poisoned Silver daggers aligned across my chest, I mused at the Dagger collection I had now amassed. I wondered if I would ever have to use them all. Perhaps the best thing to wish for would be too have them, and not need them, though I knew that this would no be the case in my heart of hearts.

Above the Skeleton, I saw a Shield glow with a bluish enchantment, leaping up, I grabbed it off its perch, and I had heard stories of this Shield. Eidolons Ward, the chapel priests spoke of a Breton Knight that had saved a lords daughter and he crafted a powerful shield as thanks. They spoke of its intricate shape and design, there was no mistaking it, and this was it.

However, I am an assassin, no warrior am I, and sadly, I would be unable to make any use of it, however, It would serve well as a trophy of sorts, indeed, I doubt that I would ever be able to find a merchant able to give me even ten percent of its true worth.

Leaving the caverns of Ibar Dad, I passed by the Daedric Shrine, dumping my latest acquisitions into the now growing pile of treasures, and returning to face the Ashkan with his fathers bow.

“Yes, this is indeed my Fathers Bow. You have passed your harrowing, I will now keep my word, and I adopt you as a Clan friend of the tribes of the peoples of the wastes. I will also keep the second promise I made you, you may now speak with Nibani Maesa, and she will test you against the Nerevarine Prophecies, as you have asked of me.”

I nodded thoughtfully at the Ashkhan’s words, but there was something I couldn’t grasp.

“Why have you been so accommodating Sul-Matuul? I know that you have no love for outlanders, why have you shown me such kindness?”

His grim face became darkened, as he carefully thought out his response.

“It is only the Lady Azura whom may decide who the Nerevarine shall be. It would be foolish of me to refuse any who would lay claim to the prophecies. But now that you are a Clan friend, I wish to speak plainly. The Nerevarine comes to drive out all outlanders, so how can an outlander be the Nerevarine? My people, indeed all tribes have lost their lands, their honor, their families to the House Dunmer and the creatures called Imperials from the west. The Nerevarine is the last hope for my people, a hope I shall not let any outlander steal from us, be careful what you do in the name of the Nerevarine, Sethyas Velas. These are serious words, words of life and death.”

I nodded; fully understanding, though I may not fully agree with Sul-Matuuls bigotry, I still understood, indeed felt his perspective. I took my leave, and walked out into the camp, a small group of the Ashlanders dispersing from the entrance, listening in on the conversation.

“Clan friend! I hear rumors, I hear that an outlander comes to lay claim to the Nerevarine Prophecies, these are strange times, honored guest. You are welcome to the hospitality of the tribe. You may sleep in our tents should you need, but please do not touch our possessions.” One of them told me amiably.

I smiled as I walked to a small yurt, with a decorative mat in front. Announcing my desire to enter, a friendly voice bade me enter.

I was greeted by an ancient Dunmer woman, long white hair was carefully braided into a ponytail. Bright red eyes carefully examined me from behind a wrinkled face; she smelled of herbs and alchemy, in another life, she would have made a perfect grandmother for me.

“So. They've told me of you, outlander. Or, shall I say, Clan friend. You are hard-headed. And ignorant. But perhaps it is not your fault. My lord Ashkan says you will ask me about the Nerevarine prophecies. He also says I will test you against the Nerevarine prophecies. I must do as my lord Ashkan says. So ask your questions, and I will test you."

“I wish to know of the Nerevarine Prophecies, I wish for you to disprove any claim I may have to them.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Disprove? You do not believe this to be a serious matter? This is not some game a child plays outlander, if you lay claim to be Nerevar Reborn, you must be willing to follow through with your very life, child.”

“I am. Believe me.” I said looking grimly to the side.

"There are many Nerevarine prophecies, and they suggest many things. Aspect and uncertain parents. The moon-and-star. Sleepers. Seven curses. The curses' bane. The prophecy of the Stranger. The prophecy of the Seven Visions. The lost prophecies."

"Ask me of these things. If you are patient. If you would be wise. Or, if you are impatient to know, just ask: 'Do I pass the test of the Nerevarine prophecies?' Go ahead, outlander. I am the wise woman. Ask your questions. And I will answer."

“Okay tell me of the Aspect and uncertain parents.” I asked, telling her of my birth sign, and orphan childhood.

“If what you say is true, you are indeed born on a certain day of uncertain parents. This is part of the prophecy. But many have the same birthday, and many are not sure of their parents. It is interesting. But it does not make you the Nerevarine."

“As I thought, what of the ‘moon-and-star’ I often hear accompanying tales of this Nerevar?”

"Legend says Indoril Nerevar's family standard bore the moon and star, and Nerevar's armor and weapons bore this sign. Some say he bore a moon-and-star birthmark. Some say he has a magic ring marked with a moon-and-star. Others say he was born under a moon-and-star. In any case, I think the moon-and-star is the mark of the Nerevarine, and you do not have this mark. So you are not the Nerevarine."

“The only marking I have is this black hand tattoo, given to me upon my birth. I have no Idea what it means.”

“This tattoo, it is very common amongst native Dunmer and House Dunmer alike. This tattoo is a sign of fealty and reverence to our great ancestor spirit Mephala. Your family, whomever they may have been, had a genealogy that they linked directly to Mephala, some lay claims to Azura, some Boethiah, there are alternate marks for these as well. However it is so common, it will not give you any clues as to whom you may be related to from Morrowind, I’m afraid.”

I listened intently to her explanation, it was the first time I understood what my facial tattoo meant, and I had lived with it all my years, to the point that I barely noticed it. But I was here for another reason.

“Very well, speak to me of the Seven Curses.”

"It is another Ashlander prophecy of the Nerevarine. It is called "The Seven Curses of the Sharmat." But I do not know it, and I know no one who does. It may be lost. Such things happen. A wise woman dies, or forgets, or a clan is wiped out. Perhaps someone knows, but is keeping it secret. Perhaps it is in one of those many books of your settled peoples. I have heard that the Dissident priests of the Temple may have such books."

The dissident priests, the group that Mehra Milo had links to. This was beginning to come together in the back of my mind.

“And the Curses Bane?”

“I don't know. Which curse's bane? There are so many curses. The seven curses seems likely. But I don't know."

“Ok, and what of the Stranger? Doesn’t that refer to an outlander?”

“This is the best known of the Nerevarine prophecies. We call it 'The Stranger'."

"When earth is sundered, and skies choked black,
And sleepers serve the seven curses,
To the hearth there comes a stranger,
Journeyed far 'neath moon and star.

Though stark-born to sire uncertain
His aspect marks his certain fate.
Wicked stalk him, righteous curse him.
Prophets speak, but all deny.

Many trials make manifest
The stranger's fate, the curses' bane.
Many touchstones try the stranger.
Many fall, but one remains."

Those words, I had seen those words in a dream. A dream from so long ago, when I was sent to Seyda Neen. ‘Many fall, but one remains.’

“What of these Seven Visions?”

“The full title of the prophecy is "Seven Visions of Seven Trials of the Incarnate". Listen, and I will tell you the verses."

"Seven trials
What he puts his hand to that shall be done.
What is left undone, that shall be done.

First trial
On a certain day to uncertain parents
Incarnate moon and star reborn.

Second trial
Neither blight nor age can harm him.
The Curse-of-Flesh before him flies.

Third trial
In caverns dark Azura's eye sees
and makes to shine the moon and star.

Fourth trial
A stranger's voice unites the Houses.
Three Halls call him Hortator.

Fifth trial
A stranger's hand unites the Velothi.
Four Tribes call him Nerevarine.

Sixth trial
He honors blood of the tribe unmourned.
He eats their sin, and is reborn.

Seventh trial
His mercy frees the cursed false gods,
Binds the broken, redeems the mad.

One destiny
He speaks the law for Veloth's people.
He speaks for their land, and names them great."

"What does this prophecy mean? It tells us who the Nerevarine will be, and the trials he must undergo before he fulfills his destiny. Some parts I understand. Some parts I do not. I will answer your questions as best I can. But I cannot pretend to understand it all."


Destiny. Prophecy. Nerevar. These were now grave words in my ears, and I was afraid to hear an answer I somehow knew was coming.

“What does One Destiny mean?”

“Veloth's people are the Dunmer, all Dunmer, Ashlander and Great House. The last time the Velothi were united were with Nerevar at the Battle of Red Mountain. Now Nerevar will come once again and unite the Dunmer. He will restore Morrowind to the Dunmer, and restore the former greatness of the Velothi people."

“Do I pass the test?”

“You are not the Nerevarine.”

I gasped a sigh of relief, it was over. I had heard it from the mouth of the Cult of Nerevars wise-woman. But she continued with words I dreaded to hear.


“You are one who may become the Nerevarine. It is a puzzle, and a hard one. But you have found some of the pieces, and you may find more. Do you choose to be the Nerevarine? Then seek the lost prophecies among the Dissident priests of the Temple. Find the lost prophecies, bring them to me, and I will be your guide. And take these copies of the Stranger and the Seven Visions. Now. I have told you all I know. Go. Think on what I've told you. And do what must be done."

I gripped the papers with my Black Gloved hands shaking, I was confused. I was not Nerevar Reborn, though I may become it? Or I was, but there were other trials, other prophecies to fulfill? And all this boiled down to a choice?

“Do you choose to be the Nerevarine?”

“Well now, this is quite interesting Sethyas. According to these prophecies, and from what Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa say, you really could be the Nerevarine. That’s just incredible, but Ill have to get used to the idea. In the meantime, I have a new assignment for you; do you think you can handle it?”

I considered my response carefully. What reason did I have to continue in the Blades? For some silly Ashlander prophecies? I had lost my sister, my life almost on a number of occasions. What was left for me to have any loyalty to this man who represented the Empire that had never shown us any compassion? Duty? Prophecy? Azura? None of these things stirred me.

"Lord Nerevar Indoril, Hai Resdaynia! Long forgotten, forged anew! Three belied you, three betrayed you! One you betrayed was three times true! Lord Voryn Dagoth, Dagoth Ur, steadfast liegeman, faithful friend, bids you come and climb Red Mountain! Beneath Red Mountain, once again, break your bonds, shed cursed skin, and purge the n'wah from Morrowind!"

I remembered the dreams from Dagoth Ur. Nibani Maesa had said that this was a very strong dream, a very cunning dream. They were black lies, evil sendings of the Sharmat.

I wanted to know more.

That was what drove me. If I had attracted the attention of the Devil, maybe it was time to dance. Who knows, perhaps I was Nerevar after all. Or rather, I above all incarnates had the power to make the choice. If becoming the Nerevarine was a choice indeed.

I gripped the hilt of my Katana, my leather gloves creaking with my squeeze.

“I’m ready for anything.” I said with quiet confidence.

"Hmm. Don't get over-confident. But it so happens that I agree -- you're ready. But just in case I'm going to give you 400 drakes. Before you head out, make sure you outfit yourself with healing potions, new gear, a little training, whatever you think you need most. And remember: if you get in trouble, back off, rest up, and go back fresh. Don't get cocky. I think this will be a tough one. Here's your mission. Fort Buckmoth sent a patrol to Gnaar Mok, hunting smugglers with Sixth House connections. They found a Sixth House base, a Sixth House shrine, and a Sixth House priest named Dagoth Gares. Speak to Champion Raesa Pullia at Fort Buckmoth; she'll tell you about the patrol and the Sixth House base. Your orders: find that Sixth House base, kill Dagoth Gares, and bring me a full report on the Sixth House base."

I smiled at the thought that he had made me go out and become a better assassin to serve the interests of the Emperor further, the exact same reason that I had been jailed in the first place.

I made my way to Ald´Ruhn, taking the guild guide in Balmora, Ranis Arthys gave me an impatient look, wondering where I had been the last few months, I told her that I had pressing business and left without saying anymore.

“I'm Raesa Pullia, Champion of the Legion garrison here at Buckmoth Legion Fort. And you're Sethyas Velas. Caius Cosades sent you, didn't he? Caius says you're the one to handle this Sixth House base near Gnaar Mok."

”Tell me everything.” I nodded.

"Only one trooper returned. He died soon after, horribly disfigured with corprus disease, and out of his wits. In his ravings, he spoke of a cavern on the coast -- he called it "Ilunibi." It's not on our maps; try asking locals in Gnaar Mok. They fought with cultists and disfigured man-beasts -- corprus monsters, I think. They fled the attackers and got lost in the caves. Then they ran into a half-man creature named Dagoth Gares."

"This Dagoth Gares slew the rest of the patrol, but spared the one trooper. He told the trooper he was being spared, so he might tell others that "The Sleeper Awakes," and "The Sixth House has Risen," and "Dagoth Ur is Lord, and I am his Priest," and "All will be One with Him in the Flesh." The trooper awakened outside the caves and returned here. We couldn't recognize him, and he didn't respond to questions... just kept rambling on like a madman until he died."

"I've heard of corprus disease before, but never seen it. The trooper's flesh was swollen and covered with growths. His bones twisted and lost their shape. He spoke to himself, as if in a dream. We didn't recognize him at first, except for his clothing and armor. The fort chaplain tried spells and potions, but couldn't cure the disease. He died soon after he reached the fort. Didn't realize how fast corprus kills. It sure wasn't pretty. The troops seem shaken. I'm a little worried myself, to tell the truth."

Her tale was not a pleasant one; even I did not like the description of the poor trooper’s death. What was this Corprus disease? Caius had said that it was some form of blight disease, but worse. Now I knew how worse.

Arriving in Gnaar Mok, I was told that a cavern by that name was around the northern end of the island, near Khartag Point. Asking about Khartag Point got me this response: “Yes, that's on the western coast, not far from here. It's a gigantic boulder. Some of the orcs consider it a landmark. Why, I don't know. Some Orc or another jumped off on a dare. It didn't end well."

Shrugging at the description, I made my way to the Cavern Door, entering I only saw a small waterfall, filling a small pool at the bottom of the ledge I stood. Jumping down, I landed making a splash, I unslung my bow, and made my way forward.

The howling currents of air made red candles flicker in the flooded passageways, giving a demonic atmosphere to my incursion. I casted a night-eye spell, it improved my sight, but it didn’t take the chill out of my spine.

When I saw a hobbling distortion of a man walking toward me it only increased it, I shot several of my Silverthorn arrows at him before he finally went down. I had never seen anything stand up to so much poison, and even though I hit him in several vital organs, he barely felt it. A Lame Corprus monster.

I decided that stealth would be the best bet at this point at time, and used the Ring of Khajiit to make myself invisible, and fleeter of foot.

I ran past several Daedra and Undead, until I saw a strange sight. Several Dunmer stood around naked. I approached them concerned for their well-being.

“Are you prisoners of the Sixth House? Do you need help escaping?” I asked.

“We have you in our discerning eye, Sethyas Velas. Go unto your Lord; Dagoth Ur, and kneel before him, make your oath, and enter our service.”

I was taken aback as the Dreamer grinned maniacally at me, and then attacked me with a Chitin Club. I had to dispatch the group; these were people much like myself. Haunted by these dreams, driven mad. Driven to join the Sixth House cult. Why hadn’t it driven me mad?

I proceeded further, no longer afraid, rather, focused. I felt my ego dissolve from my mind, as the walls and the water and lighting became slower in there pace, I was in full battle-readiness. I unsheathed two of my Ancient Silver Daggers, and met face first with several Daedra, and bone lords, in a fury of speed and blood glinting off the edge of my blades, I do not know how many I killed, but I found myself facing a horrible creature at the top of some stairs in a shrine area of the caverns.

It looked like it may have once been a man, but where a face should be a long,…snout? protruded instead, its skin matched the grey ash of the wastes. And in a voice that whistled in a rhythmic high and low, the creature addressed me by name. This was Dagoth Gares, my mark.

“The Sixth House greets you, Lord Nerevar. Or Sethyas Velas, as you call yourself. I am known as Dagoth Gares, priest of Ilunibi Shrine, and minister to Sixth House servants. My Lord, Dagoth Ur, has informed me of your coming. I wish that this time you had come to honor your Lord's friendship, not to betray it."

“Your Lords Friendship?”

"Dagoth Ur is the Awakened Lord of the Sixth House, come to cast down false gods, drive foreigners from the land, and restore the ancient glory of Morrowind. He bids you come to Red Mountain. For the friendship and honor that once you shared, he would grant you counsel and power, if only you would pledge that friendship anew. The path to Red Mountain is long, and filled with danger, but if you are worthy, you will find there wisdom, a firm friend, and all the power you need to set the world aright."

“I thought the Sixth House was exterminated in First Era…”


"The Sixth House was not dead, but only sleeping. Now it wakes from its long dream, and with its Lord, Dagoth Ur, it comes forth to free Morrowind of foreign rulers and divine pretenders. When the land is swept clean of false friends and greedy thieves, the children of Veloth will build anew a garden of plenty in this blighted wasteland."

“Quite the reception for a potential ally, is this not?”

"Forgive the rude welcome, but until you have declared for us, we must treat you as our enemy. The Sleepers and Dreamers are newly come to Lord Dagoth, and not yet blessed with his power. But the Children of His Flesh, they are deep in the heart of his mysteries. Their bodies swell to contain his glory, and to yield the rich sacraments of our Lord's feasts. And we are the least of his servants, for Ash Poets, Ascended Sleepers, and Ash Vampires stand high above us in the Lord's bountiful grace."

“How do you know I am even an enemy? I’ve never even met Dagoth Ur!”

"Lord Dagoth would far rather have you as a friend than as an enemy. But until you submit to him, Sixth House servants will treat you as an enemy, and try to destroy you. If you wish to be our friend, first you must go to Lord Dagoth in his citadel on Red Mountain, and make your submission."

“I submit to no one, fiend! Especially not some creep who invades my dreams!”

"Lord Dagoth gives me these words to say to you, so you may give them thought. 'Once we were friends and brothers, Lord Nerevar, in peace and in war. Yet beneath Red Mountain, you struck me down as I guarded the treasure you bound me by oath to defend. But, remembering our old friendship, I would forgive you, and raise you high in my service.'"

"My Lord Dagoth bids you come to Red Mountain. For the friendship and honor that once you shared, he would grant you counsel and power, if only you would pledge that friendship anew. I am not your Lord Dagoth, yet I, too, would say to you... Do you come with weapons to strike me down? Or would you put away your weapon, and join me in friendship?"

I approached the creature slowly, examining the cavern with my Night-Eye spell, Dagoth Gares stood there, waiting for my answer.

With a quick motion, I stabbed him with both my daggers in his ribs, the poison coursing through him, with an inhuman strength, he pushed me away, collapsing to his knees as the deadly toxin ebbed his life away.

Looking up at me I saw that he had a mouth after all, and it gave a grin that would haunt my nightmares.

“Even as my Master wills, you shall come to him, in his flesh, and of his flesh.” Were his final words as I felt sick suddenly, I fell to my knees as well, pain wracked my body, as I spat up a putrid vomit. Stumbling over to the pool of water just outside the shrine area, I looked at my face; the reflection stared back with dulled red eyes, and brown depressions in it.

It took all my power to stand up, and I casted a restorative spell that renewed attributes, it seemed to work, as the intense nausea left my body, though the marks remained. I pulled out an Almsivi Intervention scroll and teleported back to safety in Balmora, in front of the Temple.

Rushing to Caius’ house, I barged in through the door.

“You see what you’ve done to me Caius? Dagoth Gares is dead, and now, so am I! I hope you’re happy! You’ve killed off two Velas’! But by Azura, I’ll see you in hell!” I yelled as I grabbed his collar, and easily picked him up off the floor, slamming his back against the wall. The same inhuman strength that Dagoth Gares had pushed me back with, I now picked up Caius’ with.

“Put me down Sethyas! Your acting like a Corprus Monster!” he yelled in surprise.

I realized that I had lost my temper for almost no reason, I needed to think. But it was so hard. I set him down and he poured me a glass of Cyrodiilic Brandy, and lit me a hackle-lo leaf. I sat down thanking him.

“With Dagoth Gares dead, the Sixth House shrine is no longer a threat. You've more than earned a promotion to the rank of Traveler. I'm very worried that you have corprus disease. But I have some good news in that department."

"I canvassed my informants for possible treatments, just in case you contracted the disease during your mission. I learned from Fast Eddie that your best chance of getting cured is Divayth Fyr, an ancient Telvanni wizard who runs a Corprusarium for victims of the disease."

"Here. Take this Dwemer artifact and 1000 drakes, and go to Tel Fyr. Divayth Fyr will like the Dwemer artifact. A gift may sweeten his disposition. The gold is for expenses. And here're a couple of Levitation potions. I hear you'll need them in Telvanni towers, because wizards don't use stairs. So get moving, and get that corprus disease cured. Then hurry back. I think I know how to get the lost prophecies Nibani Maesa asked for."

“So you thought I might get Corprus, and you sent me anyways….you’re a class act, Caius.”

“Hey, stop blaming me for everything that goes wrong in your life, Sethyas. You’re an extraordinary individual whether you believe that or not, and extraordinary things are going to happen to you.”

I shook my head. “I’m not Caius. I am an Assassin, not a hero, I am not Nerevar, I am Sethyas Velas. I’ll go first thing in the morning, get cured, but to hell with these prophecies, and to hell with the Blades. You want to kill me, kill me. But I proceed no further in this madness.” I said gulping the booze down and inhaling deeply on the hackle-lo.

As I awoke in the morning, the dark dreams of the horrid blight disease still haunted my mind. I felt,…stronger. The pain was still as intense, but, I found myself able to endure it better then yesterday.

Hiding the markings, I wrapped my forearms in black cloth, put on a common brown robe with a large hood, and finally put on my black gloves, putting the hood as far down my face as it would go.

I walked through the town as though I were a hobbling old man, and no one paid me any attention, I was the stark face of a side of reality that no one wanted to admit existed, they wanted their happy little worlds, and I was happy to oblige them.

I entered the Mages Guild, no one quite knowing who I was, which was just as well, I didn’t need Ajira trying to treat or cure me, or one of the other Mages examining me for ‘research’.

Using an old creaking voice, I used my best Morrowind accent, and asked for passage to Sadrith Mora, the Breton guide kindly helped me onto the platform, as another spasm of pain wracked through my body, I keeled over in pain grabbing my ribs.

There was a flurry of “Oh are you all rights?” and “Let me see what’s wrong with you!”
I merely waved off all there attempts at help and told them that I had a Healer that I saw in Sadrith Mora.

Arriving in the Bay City of the Giant mushrooms, I eagerly walked outside of Wolverine Hall. I had been here at least twice before, and I loved this city, the Telvanni, not so much. But it was wonderful living so close to water, the smell of the ocean around you at all times certainly beat the occasional wafting of rotting vegetation coming up from the Bitter Coast in the evening breeze in Balmora.

I casted a restorative spell and I returned to my senses once more, recovering from the most recent attack. On the beaches of Sadrith Mora I looked the horizon in the southeast, and casted water walking as I began my journey to Divayth Fyr’s Tower, my feet displacing the surface water, but not being swallowed by it.

An hour later, as the sea winds blew my robe around my legs, and pushing back my hood I opened the door to the Telvanni Wizards Mushroom tower, looking around, I was greeted by an attractive Dunmer Maiden.

“Are you here to plunder the dungeon? Do you have Corprus Disease? Did you want to talk to Divayth Fyr?” She barraged me with questions.

“I’m sorry, and you are?”

”Beyte Fyr, wife of Divayth Fyr.”

“His wife? Good then—“

“Yes. Well. Not 'wife' in the 'married' sense. But... you know. 'Paramour.' 'Consort.' Something like that. It's a bit awkward, really. Because... well... he made us, too, so, though we aren't really his daughters or anything, it's LIKE we were his daughters. Because he made us. You see?"

I blinked twice. This was not going to be a straightforward mission.

I sighed aloud as I asked where Divayth Fyr was, and she pointed me to his upper hall.

Looking around, I saw a bed, a bunch of shelves with interesting things on them, but no Divayth.

“Hello? Serjo Fyr? Are you here, Sera?”

“Up here!” A voice called, my eyes following the voice to a hole in the ceiling. Great, I said to myself. I am no wizard, I know a few magic tricks, and I excel in illusion and destruction for their obvious benefits to my trade. But I am no master or even expert Alterationist. I don’t know how to levitate. Even an alchemist could do this, with some coda flower and trama root, or racer plume….none of which I had in my Alchemists pack.

So Acrobatics it was. But that was quite a jump, and I wasn’t sure I could make it, eyeing the distance, and judging where I should grab a hold of the ledge, I jumped. And I could see the ledge, and then Divayth, and then the ceiling, and then the intense pain of your head hitting the ceiling. And then the intense pain of your bottom hitting the bottom floor where you started from.

“Hello? Did some one just go ooof? I could have sworn I saw someone jump up through the floor! Oh well. Must be getting old….” Said Divayth’s Voice drifting in from the top floor.

What had just happened? There was no way I could normally handle a jump like that so well. Then I realized, Acrobatics were governed by strength. Mine had nearly doubled since being infected. What was this Corprus, anyways?

Handling the jump once more. I put in half the effort and easily grabbed the ledge and pulled myself up to the Study. And there stood the Ancient Wizard, we stared at each other for a moment or two, he was impressive, Standing there in a full set of Daedric Armor, a truly beautiful and intricate set, the dark ebony mixed with the Daedric Spirit, dark as the void, and intimidating spikes everywhere.

I pulled out the Dwemer Coherer that Caius had given me, right on top of the,…levitation potions! I winced internally as I realized where I had left them.

Divayth smiled as I approached him with the Dwemer Artifact.

“Say, that’s Interesting piece you have there, what can you tell me about it?” he asked in a slightly sarcastic tone, as though he knew what the next sentence from me would be.

“Um, It’s a Dwemer,…thingy. And it’s for you.” I said handing over the piece.

“A gift? For me? How thoughtful. And shrewd. I suppose you know I am a collector. And that such a gift is bound to please me. I congratulate you on your diplomatic skills. So, why have you tried to butter me up? Come to consult the great Divayth Fyr? You have the divine disease? Want to plunder the dungeon? Or leer at my daughters?"

“What do you mean by the Divine Disease? Is that what you call Corprus?”

"The magical principles of corprus disease are elusive and miraculous, far more subtle and powerful than any conventional sorcery or enchantment. I'm persuaded that it is in some manner the curse or blessing of a god. Perhaps both a curse and a blessing. The victim, of course, cannot appreciate the marvelous nature of corprus. It saps the mind and destroys the body. But to a wizard, it is a profound and glorious mystery, a riddle worth a long lifetime of study."

“I actually have the ‘divine disease’ Sera Fyr. I was told you may have—“

“How interesting. Did you know that corprus makes you immune to disease? Have you ever heard of the prophecies of the Nerevarine? Ashlanders say the Nerevarine will be immune to disease. I've always thought, "Maybe I have the Nerevarine down in my Corprusarium, and I don't even know it." Hah. Hah. The Nerevarine is a fat, disgusting corprus monster, and mad as a marsh rat. Wouldn't that be funny?"

I was going to bring up the cure, but his comment stopped me to make me think. The second trial. The Curse of Flesh before him flies. Why was all this happening? Was this coming true? Was this one of the choices I must make? Be cured of Corprus or die trying? Or walk away and die of the disease, thus severing this latest incarnation?

“I may actually fulfill the Prophecies….” I said half-mindedly, not really wanting to speak the words out loud.

“That's a fascinating story you tell. So. You might be the Nerevarine. Means nothing, of course. Corprus victims have all sorts of delusions. But... let me think..."

"I've got a potion. In theory, it should cure corprus. Doesn't work, though. Probably kill you. Killed all my test subjects. But you've got nothing to lose. Before I give it to you, I want you to look around below in the Corprusarium. Know what's in store if you don't take the potion. And while you're there, I want you to pick up a pair of boots from a victim, calls himself Yagrum Bagarn. My oldest patient. Handy fellow, fixes things for me. Bring the boots back, and then you can have the potion."

I raised an eyebrow, Yagrum Bagarn? I had never heard a name such as that, in any tongue. No matter, prophecy or no, I had a disease to cure, or at least try to. I wasted no time in getting to the Corprusarium.

An Argonian in steel armor approached me, before I entered the caverns beneath Tel Fyr, handing me torch.

“This shall be your only weapon in the Corprusarium, do not attack or kill anyone, the victims here are not to be harmed, no matter how far gone they may be.”

I nodded, willing to abide by the rules.

I entered the place, the torchlight flickering of the walls, I saw Dwemer Chests, and pools of water, and wandering half crazed men and Mer, some only recently gone, others with full blown growths and groans.

Some of the victims simply sat where they were, looking up at me with eyes that had been drained of the intellect they once held. I was afraid to say that I looked into the eyes of little more then animals, there flesh half yellowed from corprus. This is what was held in store for me, if I did not cure or died trying to cure corprus, death was a welcome option compared to what I saw.

Continuing through to what I would call the bowels of the Corprusarium, I ran by some of the more dangerous Lame Corpus’s totally mad, and totally lethal. I however made some good use of the strength that corprus gave me, and simply jumped over them.

Finally, I saw a strange sight; a man of some kind was sitting in a contraption of some kind. His belly was swollen beyond what I would call healthy, and he had the pointed ears of an elf, but a full-blown long beard, the likes of which I had never seen. The torchlight passed over the rest of him, as a voice to my right suddenly snapped me out of it.

“Yes, outlander, you’re staring at the last living dwarf. Give him some measure of peace.”

“Yagrum Bagarn? He is--? I mean--? I thought that--?” I was stunned; truly, this was not a straightforward mission. This was my entire perceptions of the world being thrown to the wind.

“I don’t know what to say, Lord Fyr has sent me for some boots, but that hardly seems important now….”

“"You're here for the Dwemer boots? Tell my gracious Keeper that I have done what I could. Only a Dwemer mage crafter could have done so much. But only idiots could have created these boots. It shames my race that we must be judged by the works of such lack-wit blunderers." Yagrum said finally speaking.

I took the boots, and continued talking with him.

“You are the Last Dwemer? Of your entire race, none live still but you? How is this possible?”


“I do not know for a fact that I am the last. But in my travels thousands of years ago, I never encountered another. And since I have been here, I often ask Lord Fyr, but he says he has never heard a credible rumor of another Dwemer, on Tamriel, or in any Outer Realm."

“What happened to your race? Why did the Dwemer depart from the Mundus?”

“Hmm.... I cannot say what happened. I was not there to observe. I was in an Outer Realm at the time, and when I came back, my people were gone. I left Red Mountain, wandering Tamriel for years, searching our deserted colonies, looking for a survivor or an explanation. Then, a long, long time ago, I returned to Red Mountain, still looking for answers. Instead, I found corprus disease, and I have been here ever since. I have theories, if you are interested."

“Of course.” I nodded, very interested in what he had to say.


“Lord Kagrenac, the foremost arcane philosopher and mage crafter of my era, devised tools to shape mythopoeic forces, intending to transcend the limits of Dwemer mortality. However, in reviewing his formulae, some logicians argued that side effects were unpredictable, and errors might be catastrophic. I think Kagrenac might have succeeded in granting our race eternal life, with unforeseen consequences -- such as wholesale displacement to an Outer Realm. Or he may have erred, and utterly destroyed our race."

“You have Corprus, you mentioned? How is it that your not like the rest of the victims here?”

“Since the disappearance of the Dwarves, I have been alone in this world, trapped in this grim prison. I can scarcely move. And my fellow inmates are scarcely good company. The risk of corprus disease deters most visitors. But if you meet with cultivated minds undaunted by the terrors of the Corprusarium, you might mention your recent interview with the Last Living Dwarf.”


"I owe my life to Lord Fyr. He took me in when I was a mad monster, out of my mind. In time, I emerged from my dementia, and now I am quite lucid most of the time, though my body is still a grotesque and useless prison. And I still have some feeble hope of a cure. Lord Fyr has tried many spells and potions. None have helped me, but neither have they harmed me. If anyone can cure this disease, Lord Fyr can."

“I see.” I said quietly, it was sad, but I did not want this to become me, even If I could recover, even mentally, would I want to? No. It was all or nothing for me.

“Sera Bagarn. I promise you that I shall return to you in the passing days, If I indeed have days to come.” I said taking my leave.

“Well, did you get my boots, no boots, no potion.” Said Divayth as I brought set them down on his table, accidentally knocking off a stone of some kind. Picking it up I realized that it was an Index.

“Oh you can have that bloody thing, serves me no purpose.” Divayth said graciously.

“And now, I'll give you the potion, on the following condition: you must drink it here, before my eyes. It should act immediately, and I need to observe you very carefully. Agreed?"

I didn’t need to think about it.

"Yes, give me the potion."

"Good. Open your mouth, and close your eyes..." he said pulling out a vial of clear bluish liquid, I opened my mouth and tilted my head back, he poured the potion, which was utterly tasteless.

"Good. Now swallow... Goodness... Good grief! Look! Look! It's... WORKING!"

I looked at him strangely, but I realized what he said was true. I touched the side of my face, and felt the depressions fill in with my own skin once more.

"Remarkable. Let me check your skin... your eyes... your tongue.... Amazing. I think it worked. No sign of the disease at all. Of course, you still have corprus disease, just like I planned. But all your symptoms are gone. Marvelous. I'll go try it out on some of the more desperate inmates. But I'll answer any questions you have before you go."

“What do you mean I still have it? I thought you said that you had a cure!” I yelled, tired of being treated like a pawn and test subject.

“I don’t think you understand; remember when I said that it was both a blessing and a curse? The curse is that it drives you mad, and tears apart your body by growing muscle. The blessing is that when you have corprus, your immune to disease, all disease, and I think that in your case, you have kept the muscular growth. Indeed, do you not feel stronger then you were before?”

I realized that yes, I did feel the inhuman strength still with me. I felt fine, even better then before.

“What’s this about disease immunity however?”

“Blight, Common, Corprus, and even Age. Yes Sera Velas, Aging is a disease. The corprus victims you’ve seen, some are a few weeks along, others have been here for the last few centuries or so. And Yagrum Bagarn…..he has been alive for Four Thousand years.”

My jaw dropped, just like that, I had passed from Sethyas Velas, mere mortal, to Sethyas Velas, Immortal?

“What were you expecting? That Akatosh himself would come down from the sky and chant some mystical phrase of the first tongue, and a holy fire would envelop you? No my friend, the reality is much less exciting, and much more brutal. Keep in mind, you can still be killed of course, were I too poke you enough times with a pointy stick, rest assured, you’ll feel it.” Divayth said amiably.

I couldn’t believe this, but there it was. I had Corprus, but I didn’t have Corprus, I was stronger and more enduring then before. I was immune to all disease. Perhaps, this Corprus wasn’t so bad, but perhaps I was just lucky, or even different. Things were starting to whirl in my mind.

What if you are Nerevar? I asked myself.

“Sethyas, thank you for your report. I have some news for you, but first, your being promoted to Operative.” Caius said his mind clearly on other matters.

“I’m being promoted? I thought I told you I’m walking away from the Blades!” I exclaimed.

“I won’t be here to stop you if you do, you see, Rithleen just returned from her latest courier run, I’ve been recalled to the Imperial City. And since your Operative Rank now, that makes you the ranking Blades Agent here in Vvardenfell. That’s right, you’re pretty much what I am now. You’re no fool, and I have full confidence in your abilities to lead us, but pretty much it’s just to preserve your independence, each agent has their own assignment, and they’ll continue to send their reports via courier.”

“Why are you leaving? In the midst of all this?”

“Internal politics. Some concern about my sugar. I thought about refusing the recall. But they have members of my family back in the capital. I'm afraid it may have something to do with the problems with the succession. As the Emperor's health declines, factions are maneuvering for advantage. I may be gone a while -- that's why you're promoted to Operative."

“How do you know I’ll follow through with this?”



“Ultimately, every man will come to face his destiny, it’s a funny thing that happens to you, it’s called ‘growing up’ it makes you responsible. You’re starting to grow up, Sethyas. Continue pursuing the Nerevarine prophecies, as the Emperor commands. First, go to the Hall of Wisdom and Justice, and get Mehra Milo to help you find the lost prophecies. She's being watched; if something has gone wrong, find her private quarters; she'll leave you a message there under the code word 'Amaya.' Then take the lost prophecies to Nibani Maesa. From that point, you'll have to follow her directions, and follow the prophecies. Good luck."

I didn’t know what to say, I felt as though I was being abandoned, thrust in the middle of a thing I could barely understand, and then left for dead in the middle of a desert of questions.

“I guess….this is goodbye then,…”I said knowing that there was nothing I could do to stop him. I outstretched my hand, and he firmly grasped mine. He also had something small in his hand. I took it, and examined it, it was a small unassuming ring.

“This is my ring, it might come in handy, its got a nifty little enchantment that fortifies your skill in security and sneak, and it helps you blend into your surroundings, I wont be needing it. You can also use my house while I’m gone, I won’t need most of these things.”

“What if I turn out to be Nerevar, Caius? Shall I send word?”

He frowned, and thought it over.

“If I hear word in the winds of the reincarnation of Nerevar walking Morrowind, once more, I’ll send a message. Otherwise, I doubt that you and I will meet again.”

I nodded knowing the truth of his words, I stayed long enough to see him packs some bags, and leave for the Silt Strider. I sat on the bed for a long time, I thought of myself, my new abilities, and my role in the scheme of things.

It’s a funny thing that happens to you, it’s called ‘growing up’ it makes you responsible. You’re starting to grow up,

This was true. In spite of the massive losses and incredible events that had taken place in these last few months. I persevered. My Sister, dead. My job, a Secret Agent of the Empire I hated. My profession, an Honorable Assassin, in the employ of an Ancient Dunmer Society. If these things weren’t incredible enough, the fact that I was merely Twenty –Five years of age, and already experiencing these things was. Truly I had felt more alive in the last few weeks, then during any other of my days.

Its funny how when you don’t admit to yourself about how what you really want, what you really want still drives you, makes you do things against your will, or at least you think it is, but your really doing exactly what you want, you just need that internal conflict to satisfy your internal critic.

And perhaps against my will, I made my way to Vivec. In the High Fane, I sought out Mehra Milo once more, to take the lost prophecies that she had access to, to take them to Nibani Maesa.

Asking around, the word was mum on Mehra, some folks said that maybe she was in her quarters; others said that they simply hadn’t seen her in a few days.

Stepping before her door, I knocked lightly a few times, an Ordinator taking careful interest in my activities. She had been watched, and now I was drawing attention to myself.

He stood there silently, gazing at me from behind the golden mask. I thought out my next move, and slowly realized that she wasn’t there, I walked off nonchalantly, the Ordinator following close behind me, I began to walk faster down the halls, his pace matched mine, until I finally busted out into a full gait, knocking down a Librarian, papers scattering through the air. The Ordinator yelled for me to stop, leaping over the Librarian.

I ducked to a corner, and found what I had been looking for, the passage to the Hall Underworks, quickly lifting the trap door, I smiled at the Ordinator, as he suddenly stopped and looked at me, descending into the sewers.

He cursed something under his breath and followed suit , I ran along the sewer walkways, as he lit a torch, and ran after, I took advantage of the Shadows, and used the ring of Khajiit to make myself invisible.

He stopped suddenly right in front of me, and cursed to the high heavens and the ancestors that I had gotten away. My heart was beating hard from the merry chase, and sweat aligned my brow, I had one of two options. And being an Assassin, I took the second choice.

As he walked to return to the Hall of Wisdom, I tripped the Guard, and his heavy cuirass brought him crashing to the ground with a loud grunt. I quickly pulled out Mehrunes’ Razor, and brought the tip of the dagger to his throat. He cried out in fear for mercy, but this day, I would not show the Temple any of the Compassion it claimed to have.

I tied some loose bricks to his body, and dumped the corpse, Armor and all, into the sewer ways, likely, this close to the Inner Sea, his body would never be found, as the currents took him to his watery grave.

This time I took the smarter approach and waited a few hours, until after the sun had set, and the middle hours of night shrouded Vivec City in darkness. The medium in which I thrived.


Sneaking up to Mehras Room once more, I picked the lock, making sure that no one was around to witness anything. Upon entering, I did not find any traces of her, save a note:


Amaya,

Sorry I missed you. I had to run some old documents over to the Inquisitor at the Ministry of Truth, and I'm likely to be tied up there for a while. Why don't you meet me there as soon as you can? Then we can leave together as soon as I'm done. And Amaya, don't forget to bring me the two Divine Intervention scrolls you borrowed. Or, if you used them, buy a couple of new ones for me. I think I'm going to need them soon. Janand Maulinie at the Mages Guild in the Foreign Quarter keeps them in stock.

Alvela Saram is the guard at the entrance; just tell her you're looking for me, and she'll let you in.

your faithful friend,
Mehra

So, she was imprisoned in the floating rock, called the Ministry of Truth. And she wanted an Intervention Scroll for a jailbreak, it sounded like fun. Fortunately I still had a Divine Intervention scroll from Caius when he first promoted me to Apprentice.

Within the courtyard of the high fane, neat the Shrine to stop the moon, I snuck in my Dark Brotherhood Armor, looking up at the rock; levitation would be much easier in this case, but nowhere near as fun.

I jumped, perhaps half the distance between me and the lowest bridge built around the rock, with my right hand, I threw a rope with a small hook to the one of the poles, it wrapped around easily, I landed on the ground again, and testing the rope for tautness, began climbing up, praying that my armor would lend me in with the evening.

I realized that if some one was out at this hour, they would likely see my silhouette against the light of Secunda and Masser, climbing this rope to the Vivec Jail. Very risky.

Climbing to the top, I quietly pulled the rope back up, and snuck around the lower proximity, looking at the Ordinator woman looking off into the distance.

Wrapping my arm around her neck, I held her in place and told her to quiet down. I was in no mood to trust Ordinators at the moment.

“You’re the one Mehra told me about? Yes, then please take this key, but do not shed Ordinator blood, some of us are sympathetic to the Dissident priests, but shed Ordinator Blood, and you’ll lose that Sympathy.”

I was tempted to say, ‘too late’, but thought the better of it. Vivec was a big city, who’s to say what happened to my latest victim?

I let her go, while simultaneously casting invisibility. She looked around, wondering if anyone had even been there. I ran to the door and used her key to gain entry.

The moon was a strange place. All carved out, this held the Ministry of truths, likely corrupt Jailors. Sneaking through the shadows in between the regular patrols of the Guards was no problem. And even the lock to the top door, I found to be pathetically simple. They were simply asking for a jailbreak.

Inside the Jail, I surveyed a large campfire, surrounded by prisoners of various races, all being watched over the Guards.

I remain crouched behind the wooden stairs that lead down into the walking area. Then I saw Mehra off in the distance, she was being escorted to a room, which the guard promptly locked behind her. It was lockdown time apparently.

I waited until the guards were back to there stations, and relaxed. I used the ring once more and hurried to her door, Jumping on top of the doors frame, to stay in the shadows, I reached down with my pick and probe, until I heard the clicks of success, and pushed the door open, turning around and standing on the ledge, I jumped off, grabbing the ledge with my hands, and swung forward with my legs, landing in a sneaking crouch, and I back kicked the door closed, careful to stop it from making a slamming sound at the last second by grabbing the handle, less then a second had passed with all that I did. I wasn’t going for an entrance, I just didn’t need to be seen.

And Mehra, lay half naked on a bedroll, she covered herself with the blanket, and whimpered as she saw me, masked and clad in black, with a wicked looking dagger drawn.

“I knew that this day would come. The Temple couldn’t do it themselves, so they hired the Morag Tong! Please make it quick Assassin.” She said crying.

“Well the funny thing is, I am an Assassin, but I’m not here to kill you Mehra.” I said.

The familiarity of my voice brought her back to her senses, as I took off my mask, she saw my smiling face, and she rushed up and embraced me.

“Strange, I had expected Caius, not you. So you’re an Assassin? I suppose that makes sense, after all that suits you perfectly for things such as infiltration. I’m just glad you’re on my side.” She said.

“Do you have the Intervention Scroll?” she asked as I pulled it out and handed it to her.

“Yes, Perfect! If you have one, just use it, and go to the Ebonheart Docks. Look for Blatta Hateria, tell her you want to go fishing. She’ll take care of the rest, meet me at Holamayan. I don’t have the lost prophecies, but I know who does.” She said right before she read the scroll and disappeared into a burst of yellow light.

I didn’t need a scroll as I knew he spell, but I took a few minutes to change into less suspicious clothing. Adorning myself with the Red Robes of the Morag Tong. I casted the spell of Divine Intervention, and made my way to the docks, half-expecting to see Mehra at any second, Instead, I saw the Imperial Woman that Mehra had described.

“Excuse me, I think you know my friend, I’d like to go fishing.”

She smiled slightly as she looked around.

”She just left with Vevrana Aryon. Come on, times wasting, and you don’t want to be seen anywhere near Vivec…” She whispered as I boarded the Ship and she set sail for this mysterious Monastery.

"I'm Vevrana Aryon, a monk of Holamayan. The monastery is here, on this island. Take the stone pathway north from the docks and the path uphill. The entrance is hidden by a magical shield. Wait or rest at the head of the path, and the portal will open at dusk and dawn only, the magical twilight hours sacred to Azura. Mehra Milo has told us of your coming. You can find her in the library with Master Barelo. Later, I can arrange for your return to Vivec whenever you are ready."

I bowed my head to Vevrana, as Blatta took off and gave me a farewell wave. Fortunately the hour was late in the day, and I did not have to wait long for the dome that protected the entrance to the Monastery to open.

I was greeted by an aged monk, whom also bowed his head to me, and I responded in kind.

“Greetings Sethyas Velas, we greet you as our brother, Mehra has told us of how you helped her to escape, and she has run terrible risks staying in the temple like that. You will find her in the Library speaking with Master Barelo.” He gestured with his right hand.

I walked down into the lower areas of the Sanctum, and I did see Mehra sitting and speaking with an aged Dunmer priest, whom rose from his seat, and clasped my hand firmly.

“Thank you. Thank you for what you have done. I know it is too much to ask of a stranger, but I think we can repay your kindness. Mehra says that you seek the ‘lost prophecies’? I think we can help.” He gestured over to a seat at the library’s tables, where a stack of tomes and documents lay ready.

He picked up a few papers, and began looking intently over them, his wrinkled puffy cheeks expanding as he coughed before speaking.

“I have reviewed the Apographa, and have found two passages of particular interest. We've made copies of these passages to give you. Many are familiar with the two Nerevarine prophecies current among the Ashlanders called 'The Stranger' and 'The Seven Vision'. We have two other prophecies, 'The Lost Prophecy' and 'The Seven Curses’ that may offer additional insights into the riddles surrounding the coming of the Incarnate. Perhaps these are the Lost Prophecies that your friend Nibani Maesa told you about." He explained handing me copies of the two prophecies.

We sat in silence for a few moments as I read them, my morbid curiosity forcing me to read that which till now I had dreaded.

From seventh sign of eleventh generation,
Neither Hound nor Guar, nor Seed nor Harrow,
But Dragon-born and far-star-marked,
Outlander Incarnate beneath Red Mountain,
Blessed Guest counters seven curses,
Star-blessed hand wields thrice-cursed blade,
To reap the harvest of the unmourned house.

Notes

Lines 1-3: 'Of ancient family, but not of the four great Ashlander clans. Born under foreign stars and the sign of the Dragon -- the Imperial sign.'

Line 4-5: 'Outlander Incarnate' appears as a formal epithet, stressing the linkage between the words. The Outlander Incarnate is a 'blessed guest', one not born of the tribes but accepted as a guest with rights of hearth and hospitality. Under Red Mountain he will confront and balance against seven curses. See the 'Seven Curses' prophecy; also, Dagoth Ur is served by his seven kin, once great wizard-lords, called 'ash vampires' by the Ashlanders.

Line 6-7: 'Star-blessed' suggests Azura, the Daedra Lord and patron of magic, fate, and prophecy. 'Thrice-cursed blade' may refer to a weapon called Keening, associated in certain legends with the Battle of Red Mountain and Dwemer craft lord Kagrenac. 'Reap the harvest' is a reference to the proverb, "You harvest from the seeds you plant," which means you get what your labors deserve, in both a positive sense of reward and negative sense of punishment. The 'unmourned house' could be either or both of the lost Great Houses of the Dunmer -- House Dwemer and House Dagoth.

I continued on with the The Seven Curses.

through the doors of the unmourned house
where scoffers scoff and schemers scheme
from the halls of the oath-breaking house
rings seven curses of gods blasphemed

first curse, Curse-of-Fire
second curse, Curse-of-Ash
third curse, Curse-of-Flesh
fourth curse, Curse-of-Ghosts
fifth curse, Curse-of-Seed
sixth curse, Curse-of-Despair
seventh curse, Curse-of-Dreams

Notes

Lines 1-3: Ambiguous. May refer to the impiety of the god-mocking House Dwemer, or the treacherous diplomacy of the subtle House Dagoth, or both. House Dagoth, however, was reviled as oath-breakers for their treachery at Red Mountain. It may, however, refer to unspecified broken oaths of peace between Lord Nerevar and Lord Dumac, founders of the Grand Council. Nerevar and Dumac were loyal friends until the disagreements between the Dwemer and the other Great Houses broke out in open conflict.

Line 4: The Dwemer were the mockers and profaners of the divine.

Lines 5-6: The curses of fire and ash would come from Red Mountain where Dagoth Ur rules. These were the earliest reported threats from Red Mountain.

Line 7: Curse of flesh suggest blight diseases, especially corprus. The fire and ash storms preceded the threats of blight and corprus.

Line 8-10: Obscure. May refer to as-yet-unrecognized threats from Dagoth Ur.

Line 11: Recent reports of soul sickness and disturbed dreams come from townsfolk and Ashlanders alike. That the seventh and final curse has begun suggests the threat presented is about to reach a crisis.

Interesting, so Dagoth and Nerevar were in fact liegeman, friends. That explained my dreams, ‘three belied you, three betrayed you, and one you betrayed was three times true’
The three in this case must refer to the Tribunal, Almalexia, Nerevars wife, Vivec, Nerevars Companion, and Sotha Sil, Nerevars apprentice.

Indeed, the ‘Progress of Truth’ speculated that Dagoth Urns power may be derived from the same source as the Tribunals, in that there were not three, but four ‘gods’ Dagoth Ur being the outcast, the black sheep. Driven mad by his betrayal and the power he found at Red Mountain, Dagoth Ur sought revenge, or likely justice.

I looked up at the old monk, a grim look in my eyes.

“I've annotated your copy of 'The Lost Prophecy' with our best efforts at interpretation. But a rough summary might be: 'An outlander -- foreign-born, but welcomed as a guest -- confronts seven curses beneath Red Mountain. His hand, blessed by Azura, uses a cursed blade to bring justice to House Dagoth, or House Dwemer, or both.' The Nerevarine? An outlander? That wouldn't please many Ashlanders, and may explain how the prophecy got lost."

I smiled at the comment, it was a logical assessment.

"Your copy of 'The Seven Curses' bears our guesses at interpreting the verses. In short form: Seven curses come from House Dagoth, or House Dwemer, or both. Fire and ash come from Red Mountain. Flesh is corprus. Ghosts, Seed, and Despair are unclear, but Curse-of-Dreams seems to refer to recent cases of soul sickness and Sleeper attacks in the towns."

“I’ve met a sleeper or two…all this is so, overwhelming. I thought once perhaps I didn’t care for prophecies or Nerevar. But in this light, I begin to realize this is more then just about me, this about everyone…” I mused out loud.

He nodded at my comment and continued his explanations.

“The Heirographa are the collected priestly writings of the Temple. The Apographa are the 'hidden writings' -- secrets known only at the highest levels of priesthood and inquisition. Defying the Temple, we have gathered as much of the Apographa as we can here in Holamayan. One of the chief disputes between the Temple and the Dissident priests is that the Temple hides the truth from its followers."

"A significant part of the Temple hierarchy might be more inclined to accept and tolerate differences of opinion in dogma. But other parts of the Temple, in particular, the Ordinators under Berel Sala, claim that the threat from Red Mountain and Dagoth Ur can only be resisted with a unified, resolute faith. The people are afraid, so they support the hard line. But if we can show ourselves able to confront Dagoth Ur more effectively than the Ordinators, the Temple and the people will support us."

"Our interest in the Nerevarine used to be a matter of principle, a willingness to consider the validity of mystical insights rejected by Temple doctrine. Now, Dagoth Ur grows stronger while the Tribunal grows weaker, and the return of Saint Nerevar, even if only reborn in spirit, may be our best prospect of salvation."

“You really think the Nerevarine Prophecies are true?” I exclaimed

“I unlike my compatriots in the Temple, am at least willing to consider the possibility that they are true, if we seek a savior, and one has been provided, why should we curse it, send it away?”

"The Sixth House is a new threat, and not yet widely recognized as another face of the Devil Dagoth Ur. But it is clearly a sign of a coming crisis, and the Temple may no longer be able to protect Morrowind. In such troubled times, the Dunmer may turn to the ancient pillars of faith, the ancestors and the Daedra, and especially to the prophetic visions granted by Lord Azura. Then they may look to the Nerevarine, Saint Nerevar Reborn, to lead them against the grim armies of Dagoth Ur."

“You understand my meaning? Dagoth Ur is the true enemy, not the Nerevarine. The Dunmer have always been a fractious squabbling people, Nerevar was the last and only person to have truly united us, Ashlander and Houseman alike.”

”Do you think I am the Nerevarine?” I asked quietly, telling him of my brush with Corprus, and what Divayth Fyr had told me of the Nerevarine being immune to disease.

“Only Azura may answer this question, my child. If you are, I understand that it must be a terrible burden to bear. I tell you, most people will expect Nerevar to descend from the sky, laden in golden skin, and with a terrible gaze, and a voice like thunder, destroy the devil Dagoth Ur without a struggle. The reality is always less then the bedtime story. Should your path lead you to the zenith of power, you must not lose yourself; you must not lose your sense of what must be done. That is all the advice I can give you, my son.”

I nodded, understanding his meaning. I spent a few days in the Monastery reading books, spending time with the monks, even joining them in meditation for a while. Though it did little good, as my mind was a torrent of questions.

Soon, I would have to leave, and bring the words of the lost prophecies to Nibani and Sul-Matuul.

I almost wish I hadn’t returned to Nibani. Indeed, after a long journey back to the Ashlands, she had little to say to me, and seemed more suspicious then ever of the outlander claiming to be an incarnate. She was courteous to a clan friend nonetheless.

“Do you bring me news of the lost prophecies?" she asked in a hushed tone.

I nodded, pulling out a sheaf of papers, stopping myself from handing them over, remembering what Hannat Zainsubani told me of the Ashlanders scorn of the written word.

"You have these lost prophecies? You will tell me these things, over and over, until I have them by heart. And then you will tell me what these priests say, what they see in these words. And then, you must leave me. Hunt. Sleep. Train. Feed. Learn the land. I must bring these things into me, and place them before my ancestors, and listen to them, and to the skies and stars of my dreams. And then, when the moons have come and gone, return, and I will give you my judgment."

For three nights, I stayed with Nibani, speaking the words of the prophecies to her, until even I knew them. Then I took my leave, and for three of the moons, I hunted, taking out a few bandit caves near Khuul, and selling the loot locally.

It was a slow torture; it was like watching a pair of dice rolling in slow motion, wondering whether your gamble would bring you fortune or ruin. I didn’t even know which being the Nerevarine was, if I was indeed.

Returning the third night, I brought with me a large pack of supplies from my adventuring for the tribe, hides, Kwama eggs, you name it, and I had it. I still felt a bit guilty about the last time I had been here, and the loot that now brought me great wealth. Strange how I still hated the rich however, I suppose the Nobility is a more accurate term.

Nibani’s Attitude had taken a complete turnabout with me; she now treated me as though I were her own son. She embraced me with open arms, and asked how I had fared. She sat me down, her deep red eyes staring into my own.

“The ancestors and stars have given me clear signs. The lost prophecies leave no doubt -- the Incarnate shall be an outlander. You, blessed by Azura, must lift the seven curses of Dagoth Ur. Prophecy has shown the seven steps of the Nerevarine's path, and I have been chosen as your guide for each step on that path. I will read the signs, and show you the way. It is time for you to walk the path of the Seven Visions, and pass the Seven Trials of the Seven Visions."

"You are born on a certain day to uncertain parents. So you have passed the first trial. My dreams show me that you also fulfill the second trial, that 'neither blight nor age can harm him-The Curse-of-Flesh before him flies'. I have read the signs, but I cannot understand. Can you explain this to me?"

I told her of my nightmarish experience into Ilunibi, and how Dagoth Gares cursed me with Corprus, and how Divayth Fyr, a Telvanni Mage-Lord gave me a cure, and the side benefits of the disease.

"That you have overcome the Curse-of-Flesh is strange enough, but that it should protect you from blight and age is past belief. I don’t know if what you say is true. But the signs of my dreams are clear…”

I picked out a small iron dagger of my satchel, and gripping both the hilt and the blade, I snapped the blade like it was a twig; she stared with unbelieving eyes at my palms, showing no signs of blood.

“Incredible, you have kept the strength of the Corprus Beasts. You have passed the second trial. But the third trial is unfulfilled. The mystery of the third trial is not my secret to share. Go to Sul-Matuul, the guardian of our cult, and he shall tell you of the third trial.”

I thanked her, but I was still uncertain, though becoming more believing. I couldn’t let dreams decide my destiny, or convince me to jump headlong into some suicidal nonsense. No, if I was blessed by Azura, she was going to have to start talking to me directly; I was quickly losing patience in mysticism and prophecies.

I went to speak with Sul-Matuul, as Nibani bade me to, it was refreshing to hear what he had to say, and his approach to the whole situation.

“You wish to know about the Third Trial, and I shall tell you." He said quietly.

“Yes, Lord Ashkan. I feel that it is time to face this thing once and for all.”

"You have entered the path of the Nerevarine. This is a hard thing to believe. But Nibani Maesa has spoken to me at length of this, and I have had time to consider. Therefore I shall keep my own counsel, and set before you my own test. I do not dispute with the wise women, but their ways are not the ways of the warrior. Many before have tried the path of the Nerevarine, but all have failed the warrior's test. You must have strength, courage, and cunning. These things I would test."

I nodded in full agreement, finally, a down to earth approach.

"Nearby lies Kogoruhn, the ancient halls of the forgotten house, House Dagoth. In recent time, creatures of the blight have come to dwell there. I myself went there, with some brave hunters, and came back again, but it was a bad place, and I am not ashamed to say I was afraid, for myself and my men. If you would have from me the secret of the Third Trial, the 'caverns dark' where Azura's eye sees, you will first bring to me three tokens from dark Kogoruhn."

“Is this another harrowing?” I asked.

“No. This is my test to ensure that you are able to face what must lie before you, now stop interrupting!” He barked at me.


"The first token is corprus weeping’s from a corprus beast, to show that you are proof against the disease's corruption. The second token is a cup with the mark of House Dagoth, for I have myself seen such cups there, and will know you have seen with your eyes what I have seen with mine. The third token is the Shadow Shield, which lies on the Tomb of Dagoth Morin, in the lava tunnels deep beneath ruined Kogoruhn. Bring these things to me, and then I will tell you the secret of the Third Test."

Kogoruhn. The name was familiar. I recalled back to the days when I had long began this tirade with the Blades, and Hasphat Antabolis had told me that was once their homestead.

So, it was time to dance with the Devil in his house, it would seem.

I prepared myself for an assault upon the ruins of the former Sixth House. Funny, every time I thought that it was time to ‘dance with the devil’ something strange happened. Last time it had been Corprus. Now I wondered what would happen this time.

Regardless, I had a test to pass, and a point to prove. That point being that the members of the Sixth House, would not stand before my fury. I was to act almost totally alone against an army that seemed to be gathering en masse to reclaim Vvardenfell. It would be the path of generalization and a sign of low thinking to assume that the Sixth House was simply evil.

No, the Sixth House was a group with its own set of customs, beliefs and goals. Albeit, different than what others had come to accept as ‘normal’, but there was a lot to admire about Dagoth Ur’s followers. The followers came to him through suffering corprus and falling mad to his dreams. So the followers were submissive, and physically strong off the bat. My willpower, it would seem, was too strong for the Sharmat to get me running through the town in the middle of the night, naked and screaming, to the most local Sixth House Base.

Rather, I ran through the Ashlands, silent and fully armored, to both pass Sul-Matuul’s test, and take out a major stronghold of my enemy. Fear is the path of the foolish. There is a saying amongst the Dark Brotherhood. ‘Nothing is True, Everything is Permitted.’ Essentially meaning, that laws and social stigma and taboos were illusory, and that all actions that we yearn to actually do, is possible.

Such a credo, would not last long amongst my more disciplined brothers in the Morag Tong. We survived through self-control, though the belief that we did have in common with the Dark Brotherhood, was that fear was the mind-killer, it could imprison you, blind you, and hold you back. There was no use for fear in this battle, but I tell you, it took all my strength to hold it back.

Kogoruhn is a place of nightmares, ancient bones of what was once a great structure reached far into the sky, tended to slightly by a few raised stones. Centuries of Ash storms littered the courtyard with piles and small hills of the grey dirt, but it made scaling the walls a simple matter. The naked Dunmer staring at the sky was not.

“Fire, pincers, claws, wheels. What slave knows what the lover feels?” he said as I approached.

“Are you going to make me kill you too? You can’t take your mind back from him, can you?” I asked silently.

He looked at the Black-Clad Assassin standing before him as though I weren’t even there, his eyes seeing other things.

“Dagoth Ur is Lord! Why have you denied him Sethyas Velas? For all will come before his as flesh, or they will be blown upon the wind as dust!” he yelled, and grabbed a handful of ash and blew it at me.

“Great, another nutcase.” I said pulling out an Ancient Silver Dagger, and ended his life with a merciful thrust to the midsection, the poison ending him in mere seconds.

Looking about the courtyard, I unslung my bow, and proceeded into the Dome of Pollock’s Eve, figuring I would take this room by room. Who knew how long this would take? I could end up being here for days, assuming I survived at all.

I beheld once more the nightmarish red glow of candles, and an odd stacking of furniture in the dome. Walking around, and occasionally kneeling in what seemed to be prayer, another Ash Ghoul, this one addressing itself as Dagoth Girer.

“You have betrayed Lord Dagoth, taste his vengeance. Had you not slain Dagoth Gares, our fallen brother, I might spare you.” Its high-pitched whistling voice said as he prepared a spell.

I found it strange that the Sixth House Agents were willing to speak to me, but nonetheless, I fired the poisoned Silverthorn Arrows at the beast, dodging the sparks of shock magicka that he fired at me. Eventually he fell, succumbing to the potent poison that coursed through his veins.

Looking around, I found upon a table, a Cup that was unique and unmistakable as a House Dagoth cup. It was evil-looking, with a red basin inside its black exterior. It was also appealing to me somehow. I could sense no curse or enchantment upon it, and carefully wrapped it in a cloth, and placed it within my satchel.

Exiting, the dome I returned to my search. The Shadow Shield was deep under the Stronghold, and I still had to get Corprus Weeping’s in order to prove my immunity to Corprus Disease. Entering the Temple of Fey , a small shrine it would appear, and a Corprus Stalker stumbled his way toward me. I unsheathed Mehrunes Razor, and resheathed it in the Stalkers chest and abdomen several times. After the beast succumbed to the razors poison, I took a bit of the secretions off of its back; it was repulsive, but necessary.

Then something I had never seen before greeted me from the dais in a similar voice to an Ash Ghoul. It was physically more robust then an ash ghoul, and it stared at me with four huge black eyes, and from it huge head, there were four tentacle protrusions, and to top it off it seemed to be wearing a robe of some sort. This was a creature of nightmare. I had seen some hellish things within the Sixth House. But this was beginning to take the cake.

“Greeting Sethyas Velas. I am Dagoth Uvil. You are the Star-blessed hero? Or the Daedra’s Pawn? Only one way to find out. If you have the courage.”

Again with the talking it seemed, but he did raise an interesting point.

“The Daedra’s Pawn you call me, Dagoth. What is your meaning?”

“Have you asked yourself, WHY are you doing Azura’s bidding? Are you in the habit of trusting Daedra Lords? Have you forgotten what scheming, treacherous fiends the Daedra are? Come on, hero. Why are you still talking? Are you afraid?”

I walked to him slowly, his mouth tendrils swaying a bit. Behind him I saw a row of bells, and a large hammer. I thought about his point. Then I grabbed the hammer, and swung down on his large skull, how many swings I took, I don’t know. I only recall a flurry of rage and screaming. Hardly an Assassin’s way of dispatching his marks. But this creature brought out a fear and loathing in me that I took out upon him, until its corpse disappeared in a flash of light, and only a skull remained.

I breathed heavily, looking about the shrine. The brick torch-pits lighting the room, I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. But I proceeded to a larger section of the stronghold, which had scratching on the door that spelled out, “The Hall of Phisto” in some ancient Aldmeris.

The long brick hallways were filled with torches, and more of the ghouls and ascended sleepers. Using the hammer, I took out a newfound rage upon the Sixth House denizens, putting my corprus-augmented strength and endurance to good use.


I continued to descend into the stronghold, entering into a section called the ‘Hall of Maki’. Within the halls, I found a strange glyph or symbol arranged on the floor in gold coins. Looking at it some more, I remembered the strange symbol that the dreamer prophet in Vivec had been making from twigs. This was that same arrangement. It must have been some sort of symbol of the Sixth House.

Finally, I found the door to a sewer system, but the lock was far too complex for me to pick. There had to be a key around somewhere, so in search, I casted a ‘detect key’ spell and the mythic energy led me to another room in the huge stronghold. The Vault of Aerode.

Once more, I was in a combat situation with Flame Atronachs, and Corprus Stalkers, the huge bridge I fought on made balance and precision essential to survival. Throwing down the Bell Hammer, the Daedric Katana sang as I unsheathed it, the dark blade darkened even more with corprus entrails.

Finally, I made my way to a small room where yet another Ascended Sleeper, this one name Dagoth Ulen, mocked me, and continued his attempts to make me doubt myself.

“Look! It’s Azura’s Fool! Look at You! Not a real thing at all, just a pathetic puppet of prophecy. And you think you can trust the Daedra lords? Mortals are but simple sport to the Daedra Lords. They pull the strings, and you poor fools leap and dance. Why do you serve them? Why do you fall for their honeyed lies? For ages you’ve yielded to their temptations, their false promises. How soon you forget their treachery, their deceits.”

“ I am here for a different reason. Besides. If she is my ally against you. Then so be it.” I replied.

“Ah, she ‘s sucked you in with pretty prophecies. Promised you power, did she? Promised you justice, did she? And when did a Daedra Lord ever fulfill such a promise? Such a faulty memory you have.”

In the time he took with talking with me, I managed to sneak in close to him, and pulled out a poisoned dagger, and brought it crashing down into his skull.

“And you talk too much.” I said as he writhed and twisted in agony before he died in the same manner as the prior Dagoth.

I pulled the key to the Nabith Waterway from around his neck, and added his Sixth House Amulet, to my growing collection.

Using my ring this time, I entered the Nabith Sewers unseen, and approached a door that was carved into the wall and rock underground. Stepping inside, the red glow of lava, and the smell of sulfur protruded my senses. It was strangely bright in here, but I realized that it was due to the lightness of the walls and glow of the lava bouncing off of it. I moved around, checking passageways, and once more, I saw something new.

Perhaps it had once been a Dunmer, or even a Dwemer. It stood over eight feet tall, had a humans body and face even. I would not describe it as grotesque or nightmarish even. And the reason I say either a Dunmer or a Dwemer, was the red eyes, and long beard that I had seen on Yagrum Bagarn. He had the pointed ears of Elven races, though his skin was the ash grey of the Sixth House Servants I had encountered thus far.

I approached it, and removed my mask. It spoke and introduced itself, its voice was transcendental and deep, like his voice came from a rumbling within the cavern walls around us.

“Hello, Nerevar. I am Dagoth Uthol. He said you would come to us. And he was right. Have you come to submit? Or come to die?"

“Dagoth Ur, I assume to be your meaning. Have you all been waiting for me? Wondering If I will join the Sixth House?”

“Lord Dagoth says you will join us or die. I thought you might just leave us alone, and go about your own affairs. But Lord Dagoth says it is not your way, to leave a thing well enough alone. Perhaps. I cannot remember you at all. But I do my Lord's bidding. I have always done his bidding. So go to him and submit. You will be given power and place. And, perhaps, peace and forgiveness. Do as you like." He