The Tale of Sethyas Velas

Chapter five; History Rewritten and History Reborn

A stranger’s voice unites the halls, three houses call him Hortator. Two down and one two go, I mused to myself as I let the sea winds blow through my hair on the Chun-ook. I had paid for passage to Sadrith Mora, as far as I knew, the Mouths, that is the representatives of the reclusive Telvanni Mage-Lords, were the ones to approach with the matters of becoming Hortator. If they would even allow it.

I had reverted back to my traditional Ritual Red Robes and hood of the Morag Tong, along with the black gloves to hide the Moon-And-Star. I didn’t need religious Dunmer attacking me with the Temple calling me an outlaw.

I stepped off the docks late in the evening, and entered the Gateway Inn, taking a musing notice of the two banners. One said ‘welcome’ and the other said ‘danger’. My kind of place.

Standing there in dark blue robes, I was greeted by the Prefect of Hospitatlity.

"I'm Angaredhel, the Prefect of Hospitality here at the Gateway Inn. Shall I tell you about my trade? Or do you need Hospitality Papers? “

“Hospitality Papers?” I asked.

"According to the Collective Articles of the Council of the Great House Telvanni, out-house and outlander guests in Sadrith Mora may not travel in town or speak to or conduct business with citizens, tradesmen, or publicans unless they have Hospitality Papers. This is for the comfort and safety of our guests. As Prefect of Hospitality for Sadrith Mora, I can provide you with these papers for 25 gold. Would you care to purchase these Hospitality Papers?"

"Yes, I'll purchase the papers." I sighed.

"Thank you. And here are your papers. They permit you to travel in town and speak to and conduct business with citizens, tradesmen, and publicans anywhere in Sadrith Mora. Of course, we hope you will stay with us here at the Gateway Inn. Travelers of all professions, factions, and professions are welcomed and made comfortable here."

“As opposed too being a member of the House Telvanni? I asked.”

"We live comfortably. Our wizard-lords keep us secure, and otherwise leave us alone. All we want is to be left in peace to do as we wish. We don't care about politics. We don't care what others think. We just want to be left alone. And our wizard-lords and their mercenaries make sure no one bothers us."

“That’s….charming. But assuming that I needed to speak with the Mage Lords, how would I go about doing that?” I asked him.

"The Council Hall is the big sphere down by the harbor. The Telvanni Mouths -- the representative who speak for the councilors -- are in residence there. That's where you'll find Mage-Mistress Arara Uvulas. She's the Mouth for Master Neloth, the wizard of Tel Naga, Sadrith Mora's wizard tower."


"The Telvanni mage-lords are far too busy and important to attend council meetings. So they have representatives called 'Mouths' who attend to council business for them. Mouths are proteges of their wizards, and expected to step into their shoes when their masters die. Mouths have complete authority to speak for their lords, but they often defer the tough decisions to their masters."

“Including matters regarding the Nerevarine Prophecies?” I asked, his eyes glinting with recognition now.

“Yes, I was at your duel with the Archmaster Venim. Nice display of swordplay there! As for your claims, House Telvanni pays little attention to religious doctrine, or prophecies and other superstitions, for that matter. Call yourself the Nerevarine. We don't care."

“That is actually the nicest thing any Houseman has ever said to me since I began this little misadventure. Thank you.”

Angredhel gave me a professional smile, and waved me off. I took a room for the night, and slept rather well, in spite of the uneasiness that surrounded my thoughts of how to go about ‘uniting’ the House of Telvanni.

I awoke the next morning and hoofed it on over too the Council Hall, greeted by disgruntled Dunmer Maiden Mage. “Oh, what is it now?” she moaned when saw me. “You’re in the Guild, aren’t you? We don’t want your kind around here!”

“Which Guild?” I asked, confused.

“MAGES Guild!” she retorted.

“Oh…I can’t say that I’m not. But it has nothing to do with why I am here”

“Whatever, Guild Mage.” She said pushing the flat of her palm in front of my face, and looking away.

I considered debating the finer points in the main differences between a mage, and a hedge wizard assassin, but I doubted that she would care, I certainly did not. And I entered into the Council Hall of House Telvanni.

I have been inside these mushrooms before, but this was a sight beyond what I could have expected. The very center of the cavernous room had giant bluish crystals that hummed with power, well, not hummed, more like rang, they gave off the constant sound of tiny crystal bells being clinked off in the distance. And suspended on huge daises, stood all the Mouths, looking down on me imposingly.

I pushed my hood back, and walked a bit more into the center of the room, my footsteps echoing off the ceiling. I was uncertain of how to proceed. So I decided the direct approach would work best.

“I am here to petition the Council of House Telvanni, for the Title of Telvanni Hortator!” I said aloud, to which there was a grumbling, followed by laughter. Laughter that continued for several seconds.

Finally, a bald aged Dunmer bade me to approach him.

“Come here, yes. Yes. I know you, I saw your fight against Archmaster Bolvyn Venim, for the title of Hortator of Redoran? I have been expecting you. I am Galos Mathendis.
Mouth of Master Aryon. All the Telvanni councilors must vote to choose a Hortator, and the vote must be unanimous. It's an old tradition, rarely used -- never in my lifetime. A Hortator's duty is to lead a Great House in war, and we haven't had a war in a very long time."

I spoke to the Mer at length of my story, showing him my proofs. He was more receptive then most were.

“That's not a pleasant story. And it means trouble is coming, for all the Great Houses. I'm afraid you'll have to speak directly to Master Aryon on a matter of such importance. His tower, Tel Vos, is north along the coast. You can probably get a ship to Tel Mora, then water walk west to Vos village and Tel Vos. Master Aryon is perhaps the most open-minded of all the Telvanni Mage-Lords, and the one you will find most receptive to your needs.”

“I thank you, Sera Mathendis. Should I speak with the other Mouths as well?”

“Heavens, no! They will just direct you to their Masters as well. We are simply here to keep the formalities from disturbing their pursuit of power.”

”I understand that Tel Naga is here in Sadrith Mora as well, should I speak to Neloth before I go?”

“If you wish, however, I would advise that you speak with Aryon first, and hear what he has to say.”

“He has something to say? You mean he’s been expecting me too?”

“Word has gotten around after your very public claim to the title of Hortator. Go to Tel Vos.” He said rather politely for a Telvanni. This perhaps was the opportunity I was looking for.

As I turned to leave, he stopped me. “Oh, by the way, you can fly, right?”

“With a certain degree of difficultly, yes. Why?”

“Then take this amulet, it has a minor levitation enchantment, you’ll find it useful in dealing with Telvanni towers.” He said handing me the enchanted jewelry, which I took with a nod.

Later in that afternoon, I arrived at the docks of the Tel Mora, the grazelands were a sharp contrast to the ashlands of my own territory, but I found that they were rather pleasant nonetheless.

The small communities of farmers were dominated by the large Mushroom Towers of their lords, and cast a simple water-walking spell and continued across the short distance to Vos, which was all Farmers, defended by House Telvanni guards, all whom didn’t like me, as they greeted me with an “Annoying Outlanders.”

Walking around town, I was greeted by the more friendly Yakin Bael, whom gave me a toothy grin, dust surrounding his wrinkled face. “Greetings outlander! We don’t see to many strangers in town, don’t mind the guards, compliments of Master Aryon.”

“Greetings as well, healer. What can you tell me about this place?”

“Thanks to Master Aryon, now we have a Tribunal priest, Eldrilu Dalen, at the Vos Chapel, and a new tradehouse, the Varo Tradehouse. Burcanius Varo can rent you beds there, and sell food and sundries. And at Tel Vos, Master Aryon has a healer, enchanter, apothecary, and monk who provide services to Telvanni. Master Aryon says we are all his clients, and we can come get services at Tel Vos whenever we want." He said admiringly of Master Aryon.

"Tel Vos, Master Aryon's wizard tower, is to the west. You can't miss it. It's very strange. Tel Mora, Mistress Dratha's wizard tower, lies across the bay on an island to the east. In Vos village, up on the hill, the Vos chapel is in the center of the village, through the gate and courtyard. Hetwoman Maela Kaushad's house is the middle house in the village, on the south. Varo Tradehouse is that big tower you see at the end of the dock."


“Master Aryon is a councilor of House Telvanni, a very important person, very good to us, but a very strange wizard. Turedus Talanian is Lord Aryon's chief of mercenaries."

“I see. So he’s a halfway decent Telvanni Wizard is what you’re saying. I thank you, Healer, I will be off to Tel Vos then….” I said, throwing my hood back on.

Tel Vos was not a far walk at all. And I did see what Yakin Bael meant. Tel Vos was a fort, and a Telvanni Mushroom Tower. More accurately, Tel Vos was a fort that has a mushroom tower growing roots throughout it walls. They weren’t kidding about his willing to try new things. It was impressive to say the least.

Whether this was a trap, subtly manipulated to draw me in, or if it Aryon was a potential ally, I did not know. Either way, I kept the Black Hands Dagger at the ready, neither outcome was surprising to me, and I levitated to one of the towers of the fort. Just where was this Aryon?

Entering the Services Tower, I looked at a pair of Alchemists working on formulas, they gave me a polite indifference, as the Altmer looked up from his work, he commented that I existed, and asked me what my business was there. I replied that I was looking for Aryon, to which he said that it was the main mushroom pod in the very center of the Tower.

Landing on the ledge of the pod, I wasn’t sure that it was proper to just enter, so I knocked on the door, to which a confused Imperial dressed in Dragonscale Armor opened.

“What on…oh…right. Most outlanders cannot fly, come in. What can I do for you?”

”I am here to see Master Aryon. The business is rather private, forgive me.”

“Oh, yes, he said to expect someone that matches your description. Black Hand Tatoo on the face, a Mephala-Kin it would seem. You’re an…..Agent if I’m not mistaken?”

“You’re mistaken, lets leave it at that, where is Aryon?”

He pointed me past a walkway and I entered an equally cozy yet spacious wizards chamber. Seated at his desk, making notations onto a parchment, and looking back and forth into a book, Aryon slowly looked behind him, seeing me, a strange smile slowly crossed his lips.

“Ah yes, I have heard of you outlander, you’re the one who wants to be named Telvanni Hortator.” He said getting up from his seat, straightening out his robes, and then extending a hand.

I took his hand in my black gloved hand, he took a careful notice of it. “Nice Gloves. I remember a contact in the Morag Tong wearing a pair just like them, as a matter of fact, he wore robes just like yours. Am I jumping to conclusions in calling you, an Assassin?”

“Why were you in contact with the Morag Tong?” I asked, diffusing the attention from myself.

“For matters that you may be able to assist me with, uhhh?”

“Sethyas Velas, Serjo Aryon.” I said amiably.

“Good, and please, just call me Aryon, formalities are for the old and unimaginative like Neloth and Dratha. If you insist on being formal, you may call me by my Telvanni Title of ‘Master’ but I’m afraid I wouldn’t like it too much.”

I liked this Wizard a bit more, much like myself in insisting on dealing with people on equal terms, respectful for one whom commanded immense power. Or maybe he was using a charm spell on me, either way, he wanted something from me, and was willing to use tactics to get what he wanted. I respected both.

“Now for the matter of the Hortator, Aryon.”

"Yes, I understand. You are willing to take the responsibility, and I am willing to vote for you as Hortator. I think the other Telvanni councilors will also cooperate, though some might need a little persuading. Master Neloth is ill-tempered, Mistress Dratha doesn't like men, and Mistress Therana is losing her mind. Archmagister Gothren is another problem. He will not refuse you directly, but will delay indefinitely. I recommend that you to kill Archmagister Gothren."

“Ah! So we arrive to what you really want. You want me to kill the Archmagister.”

"He is the current head of House Telvanni. He has held this position for many years. If you need to speak with him, you may find him in Tel Aruhn. If you have never been there, Tel Aruhn is west of Sadrith Mora. I will mark it on your map."

"Archmagister Gothren never directly refuses requests; he just delays indefinitely, never giving an answer. I don't know of any solution, other than killing Gothren. I'll tell you plainly. I stand to gain if Archmagister Gothren dies. I say this so you won't think I'm trying to trick you. My advice is still good. Gothren won't name you Hortator, but he'll never come out and say so. And in House Telvanni it is customary to settle disputes in this manner."

“But I am not Telvanni. I am a Redoran. Therefore it is not my custom.”

“True. But you are the Exalted Master of the Morag Tong. Plus you wish to fulfill the prophecies, do you not?”

My face did not show my confusion and frustration, did everyone know that I was in a secret society? Then again, the public notice from the Temple did state my trade openly.

“Very well, I will give the matter some thought. For now, I have your support?”

“Yes, but there is one more thing I would ask of you.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“I wish for you to convince a reclusive member of the House to join the councilf. His name is Baladas Demnevanni, I believe that he resides in Gnisis.”

“And why would I do all that?”

“Because the politics of the Council would unfortunately leave me in the minority, I would need additional support to enforce my new policies, once Gothren has been disposed of. As is Divayth Fyr has refused all my requests for him to join the council.”

I cracked a smile for the first time. “I know Divayth a bit, and yes, that sounds like him.”

“Then you’re aware that the rest of the council are little more then decaying zombies, reliving the glory days of the Dunmer?”

"Mistress Dratha is the oldest living Telvanni Councilor and is sustained by the necromantic arts. She dislikes men of all races, though I do not know why”

“Neloth lives in Tel Naga, the tower in Sadrith Mora. He has a short temper, but he will listen to reason if you are persuasive enough. Do not expect him to be polite."

“Mistress Therana has not aged well and becomes more eccentric every year. Her tower is in Tel Branora, which on Azura's Coast far to the southeast."

“All of these councilors are guardung crazy, and they may overturn their votes at a whim. With Baladas’ support I could at least tie them up in appeals and invoke some other crazy outdated telvanni custom.”

I thought it over carefully. I was certainly used to carrying out dirty work for Councilors, the very nature of the Assassin is to kill or manipulate events for political gain. And Aryon was certainly a progressive visionary, a credit to his house.

“Very well then, I will be off to Gnisis then. But I wonder…”

“That is?” he asked.

“What makes you think I’ll succeed where other Morag tong Agents have failed?”

“How did you know that I tried to have Gothren killed, I merely said that I had contacted the Morag Tong?.”

“He’s still alive, isn’t he?”

Aryon laughed. “It would seem that you have some intuition, it serves you well.”

“I suppose, I also got a crash course in politics in House Redoran, I am a Councilman.”

“Statecraft is a learned art…”

“So is assassination.” I said as I exited his chambers.

I did not enjoy entirely traveling the entire distance across the Island to convince some reclusive wizard to join the Telvanni Council for the sake of Hortator, but the time spent sailing from Vos to Khuul left time open to write in these journals and meditate upon the events taking place. Politics and politics, followed by more politics, with the occasional lapse of self indulgence. I hope that uniting the Dunmer isn't worse then leaving things as they were, for I am altering the Status Quo almost single-handedly, granted; with the assistance of key members within the Houses, but I am merging things, peoples, and forces, essentially for personal gain.

No, not for personal gain, for the destruction of Dagoth Ur. If such a thing is indeed possible. Right, next thing you know, I will be dating Almalexia, and raising wild werewolves.

Gnisis is a decent mix of Imperial and Redoran settlers, my oath-kin and the Emperors Lackeys get along well enough it would seem, and my entrance getting off the silt strider was met with the same temporary curiosity that all remote settlements seem to have. I rubbed the side of my face as I looked to the arched doorway of Arvs-Drelen, the reputed home of Baladas Demnevanni, Mage-Lord of House Telvanni. I wondered how it was possible for a House to exist under such remote and tenuous relationships, then again, I imagined that the Telvanni view and approach to life took place in much slower terms then what the rest of us were used to.

I wondered if I lived to become an ancient relic, that I myself wouldn't also develop an extraordinary patience and methodical approach to life, I certainly already had it for my profession. Why not my life? How old was I now? Ah, yes. Thirty two. An Infant when compared to normal Dunmeri and Aldmeri standards, and yet, I had seen so much, and until now, it all meant so little.

I opened the wooden door into the recluse' dwelling, the flickering torchlights made the shadows dance in the largely darkened halls. Sounds of otherworldly things echoed there way down the corridors,and into my pointed ears, with a wary foot, I began the walk deeper inside to the unknown.

The winding curve brought me to a heavily locked door, the very source of the sounds, a a huge growling greeted me almost sending me running back. WIth a hand that trembled slightly, I pick the lock after a few tries, and slid a probe along the edges of the door, unlodging a wired trap. Peeking through the slightly opened door, I saw what was making the growls, nothing less then a full-blown Daedroth. Thats why the Daedric carvings above the door said "Summoning Room." Baladas was a summoner, a man capable of pulling creatures from the realms of Oblivion itself, and forcing it to his will while on the mortal plane.

I unsheathed the Razor slowly, and crept quietly by the creature moving around on its platform. Sidestepping by curved walls, the creature looked directly at me with its semi-intelligent eyes, and my heart leaped. I braced myself for its spellcasting burns, as I had beeen many times exploring the island. But the creature remained placid, and did not attack me, and instead went about its own meandering, for several minutes I took the oppurtunity to view the unique sight of a seemingly domesticated Daedra, as conjuration itself is far beyond any of the basic tricks I know. Save that for a simple spell of a Bound Dagger, which I have never had the need to cast, even then, it takes me quite a few tries before I actually summon a bound deadra.

I continued my quiet ascension to upper level of the dome, and was then greeted with another pecilular sight, a steam centurion from the Dwemer ruins I had been in as well. The construct transformed itself from a large metal ball, into it's full warrior stance, over and over again. Looking at the second curious sight, I was unaware of the prescence walking slowly behind me with a drawn staff.

The swing made a swoosh sound as it traveled through the air, and the sudden movement of the air triggered my well-developed reflexes, and I ducked, followed by a back-flip through the air that had me landing behind a robed Dunmer. The suprise of my speed had him reacting now, as he brought the silver staff back for another blow, only to be met by my hand grabbing the head, and holding it in place.

"Baladas Demnevanni?" I asked quietly.

"Yes. I am he. Now I suggest you leave, before I have my projects that you are so interested in, dispose of you for me."

I looked into the wizened face of ancient wizard, a smiled slighty.

"Well, that would be a bit difficult, seeing as how I am a messenger for your house."

Baladas old red eyes looked me up and down for a moment. "You do not look to be a Telvanni. You sound like an outlander as well. But, you may deliver your message, and then leave me. I do not wish to be disturbed any further, I've had a good two hundred years of quiet, and when these damned Imperials and Redoran moved in, I lost a great deal of that quiet."

"Well. I am not exactly a messenger actually. I come at the Behest of Master Aryon, he wishes that you would join him in the council. It would seem that political matters require additional support to prevent a minority. Aryon seeks to depose Archmagister Gothren, and needs your help in the aftermath."

Baladas gave a small chuckle, and loosened his stance, I released the staff and he set it down beside a bookshelf, and he poured himself a glass a cyrodiilic brandy, then sitting down into his chair. "Tell Aryon, I will do no such thing, I am not interested in politics, and nothing, short of Nerevar himself returning, will convince me otherwise."

Now it was my turn to chuckle.

"Whats so funny?" he inquired, as I took off my glove and showed him the Moon-and-Star and told him my story.

After several minutes of sipping and consideration, Baladas looked up at me, with his eternal sour expression. And brokke down laughing.

"I really need to get out more, all these stories and rumors you tell me of, and I haven't heard a word of it. So the second coming of your Lordship has come, and I stand face to face with him once more."

"You did say, 'nothing, short of Nerevar himself returning'. would convince you otherwise. Have I convinced you, Baladas?"

"Yes. This all should prove quite interesting, as you are well aware, we ancient wizards need projects to keep us going, and this, however temporary it may be, will be a fresh new project."

"The fact that Dagoth Ur stands on the precipice of conquering all of Morrowind does not concern you? Pardon my disagreement, but this is all rather serious matters."

"Indeed they are serious matters, it was serious when the Akavir attempted to conquer Tamriel, which I had my part in helping defend against. It was serious when the House was nearly decimated by the internal struggles that led to the more 'current' policies of keeping to ourselves from ourselves, all this and more were serious matters. Dagoth Ur is merely another list in these serious matters, this does not warrant an overreaction however."

"Well, I wasn't suggesting that you run screaming 'Oh Lord Vivec! We're all going to die!' into the streets of Gnisis, but I must also ask one more thing of you."

"What's that?" he asked.

"Your official vote of me as the Hortator of House Telvanni."

"Yes, I will send a mouth to the Council Hall, and give you my official vote. Though you realize it is just a formality, the Telvanni have no armies as do the Redorans, we merely have retainers, isolated pockets of Mage-Lords and hedge wizards that rarely come into contact with one another, and when they do come into contact, it is usually just to wipe one another out."

"I realize that, but it requires that I be declared Hortator and Nerevarine before the Temple will recognize me as Nerevarine."

"The Temple? Oh Dear, Lamebrains, and Lunatics, a bunch of religious zealots that Worship a divine sorcerer, and according to your story, the Tribunal are the same people as Dagoth Ur. Makes me wonder if the Temple and the Telvanni are so different in that sense. But, should you come into contact with any of them, may I suggest that you remain careful? Even if they are false gods, they have had centuries to refine their skills and spells. Not ones to be taken lightly."

"I take noone lightly, only fool underestimates his foes."

"Wise words. I hope that same wisdom guides you through your quest."

"As do I." I said as I walked away back to Gnisis.

The next step was to either kill or convince Gothren, and to get the remaining votes of the other Telvanni Councilors. I decided to head south next, and arrived in Balmora the next day for a renewal of my sense of purpose over a drinking revelry with Nine-Toes, the Blades Agent, and Hunter. To prevent any further uproar over my suspected association with Imperial Intelligence, I used the ring of Khajiit to remain unseen as I entered into his house.

"Ahhh! Greetings Saer, what is it?" he said re-stringing his steel crossbow, with a lit hackle-lo burning in his makeshift ceramic bowl. "Have you come to discuss the Sixth House? Or the recent wanted posters of you?"

"A bit of both. How was I discovered?"

"Your jailbreak of Mehra Milo. The Temple has long suspected our prescence, and now that we, and by that I mean you, are acting in a more overt fashion, they are attempting to flush us out it would seem. But they have no idea, who 'we' are, so they will put the native Dunmeri mistrust of foreigners on you, Operative."

I helped myself to a glass of flin, which Nine-Toes showed no reaction too, he didn't seem to much care, and after Setsuna, we had developed a tenuous friendship, my tradgedy had taught me the power of forgiveness, and I relied on his Argonian objectiveness at times to see me through emotionally turbulant times.

"Well, my overt actions have me fulfilling ancient prophecies, and seeking to unite the politically fractious Dunmer. What is the Emperors interests in all this? Does he not fear a united peoples? Where does the Legion fall into all this? Do they not know that a reincarnated Nerevar is prophecied to expell the Imperials from Morrowind?"

Nine-Toes blinked as set the string back, aiming the unloaded weapon, and pulling the trigger as the string snapped forward with a deadly sound. "The Nerevarine Prophecies were written centuries before the current empire even existed. The Emperors interest dont seem to lie in compromising his prescence in this province, rather, they seem to lie in eliminating a major threat to the Empire as a whole. Namely, the Lord of the Sixth House, Dagoth Ur."

"And he truly beleives that I can eliminate him? This is a case of me doing the Empires dirty work?"

"Do not think of it in such simple terms, Saer. The Empire has access to the Elder Scrolls, fluidic prophecies of Aedric origin. The Empire knows, at least in part, what the real reason you are here for. Destiny is a strange thing, were you sent? Or did you come? Why would Lord Nerevar be an outlander, to his natal land? The Dunmer are a traditional, conservative culture. Nerevar was a visionary in his time, with the ambition to rule all the Dunmer. Were you a native, perhaps your beleifs would make you too Temple-bound to accept the prophecies. With the perspective of outside looking in, it allows you the benefit of seeing things as they are, not as you would like them to be. As many of the natives do."

I thought about it, my red eyes looking over the patterns of the grain of wood in the tables-top. Nine-Toes looked at me for a moment.

"May I give you another peice of advice, Saer?"

"Please do." I replied.

"Do not think about it too much, to try to understand the gods and their motivations will lead you down the path of madness. Indeed, Sheogorath may well be the embodiment of this consequence, that is, the Mundane attempting to understand the Divine. Focus on what needs to be done, contemplate your place in the order of things, but do not attempt to understand what put you there. Who knows, maybe thats what happened to the Dwarves, they understood the divine, and power of such a perspective eliminated them. Who can say?"

I nodded as I heard the wisdom in these words.

"Oh. I have heard a rumor, that pertains to you by the way."

I raised an eyebrow. "What now? The Temple wants to put me in a big fat fire? I already heard that one."

"No, no. Larrius Varro down at Fort Moonmoth has been quietly sending out the word amongst the Imperial Guilds, that he would like a secret meeting with you. Dont know what he wants to talk about though."

"Larrius Varro? Never heard of him."

"He's the General of the Imperial Legion in the Southwest of Vvardenfell. Could be worth your time."

"I'll check it out." I said wiping my mouth of the last of my flin, and stepping out to the Balmora streets.

I took the scenic route from Balmora to Fort Moonmoth, the short walk did me some good, and my insatiable curiosity had me wondering what on Nirn General Varro wanted, and why he was making it an open secret amongst the Imperial Guilds that he wanted a secret meeting with me. My mind presented me with a hundred possible scenarios, and I decided that the most likely one was that he wanted me too keep the Nerevarine thing under wraps, lest the Dunmer rise in rebellion.

Funny how the truth could be even stranger then the suspected. As my entrance into the fort was met with little more then a few traders trying too see how big my coinpurse was. Rather then approach anyone directly, I walked sround for a bit pretending to peruse various potions and wares, and amongst my walking, I entered into the lower area of the fort. And I saw the green eyes of an Imperial fully dressed in steel Legion armor. Somehow I knew this was Larrius Varro, and his eyes glinted in recognition as well.

I leaned in close to him to whisper. "I hear you've been looking for me, General Varro?"

"Yes, I am Larrius Varrio. I was rather hoping you would drop by. I got a bit of work, if you're interested."

"What type of work?"

"First, I'd like to tell you a little story, and then you might decide to go out and do some things.You might not, that's your affair."

"Shoot."

"Once upon a time, there was a good officer who enforced the laws, because he thought that laws made people happy and safe, but there was a bad magistrate who made people unhappy by accepting bribes to see to it that bad people went free. For a long time the officer wondered what he was going to do about the situation. He couldnt attack the magistrate, because he had powerful friends protecting him, but then the good officer thought to himself, 'wait a minute' what about the bad people bribing the magistrate? They dont have powerful friends, what if the bad people were to be washed away in a bloodbath? Then there wouldnt be any bribes to the magistrate to keep the criminals out of prison! So the good officer said a little prayer to the gods to send him someone to fulfill his oath to stop corruption. That's how the story ends, with a prayer. But then again maybe the story isn't over."

I looked over at his sheaf of documents on his table, and I saw a paper I had not seen for many months now. It was the Census and Excise release Document from Seyda Neen, with the name "Sethyas Velas' and class description "Assassin" on it, with Socius Ergalla's signature on the bottom of it.

"So who are these 'bad people' in your story?" I asked slowly in a low, raspy tone.

"Oh, the bad people are the Camonna Tong, I thought everyone knew that. I know that they are a smith, a pawnbroker, a thief , a savant, and a scout . But I don't know their names, but I bet the Thieves Guild would know, but it's against the Code to tell an Officer like myself anything, but someone like you, I bet they would have no problem telling. I also did find a nice present from the emperor for you, but I don't know where it is right now. Check back with me later, after you have done some things."

So, Larrius Varro wanted me to kill five members of the Cammona Tong in Balmora. Normally I would never consider breaking my oaths to the Morag Tong, But I was in a certain extinuating circumstances, in that, soon after my duel with Venim, back in the Ald'Ruhn seedy tavern, the Rat in the Pot, I recieved a little warning from Aengoth the Jeweler, bless his furry little face.

"I heard it through the Trama Root, that Dren has lost a great deal of money because of you winning, because of that he's looking for a way to eliminate you, if you get my drift. He's no more loyal to you then he is to Dagoth Ur, he just wants to see Morrowind restored to its former glory, while maintaining his 'business'. Keep your head low, and your food fresh."

I needed to send Dren a message, without directly taking him out. While that was perhaps not the most logical choice, my love for Ilmeni still prevented me from taking him out directly. I am not entirely ruthless, though there is no dought in my mind that he would'nt hesitate to use her against me in some dire way, I did not want to kill my loves uncle if I could at least scare him into submission. That is the reason I chose to convince him, instead of eliminating him.

I walked into the South Wall Conerclub once more, though my last encounter had been a while ago, when I came here to make contact with Caius. I ordered a frothing mug of mazte, and let the rich taste of the saltrice beer dull my senses a bit as I tapped Phane Rielle's shoulder.

"Yes?"

"I'm looking for some 'bad people' namely a Savant, a Smith, a Pawnbroker, a Thief, and a Scout. Souund like anyone you know?" I said quietly.

"It rings a bell. What's the information worth to you?" he said wiping a mug clean with a cloth.

I pulled out small sack, and considered the weight carefully in my hands, estimating it at three hundred drakes, then with a black hand, I slid it across the counter to him.

"That much." I said.

"Hmm. This should do it. I assume you're asking about the Cammona Tong?"

I tapped the tip of my nose.

"
Well, the scout would be Vadusa Sathryon. Marasa Aren would be the pawnbroker. The thief would be Madrale Thirith. Sovor Trandrel is the savant. Thanelen Velas would be the smith. Look over in the Council Club, just off the exit stairs of the Silt Strider Port. Though, I'd recomend that you do not talk to them, they dont like outlanders, except under building foundations."

"Thanks for the tip." I said dropping a few more coins on the counter for the Mazte, and exiting the cornerclub.

I walked through the streets of Balmora in the early evening hours, though the low cloud cover had made this evening darker then most, and on my way to the council club, a sudden heavy downpour prompted me to don my hood, and lightning flashed followed by a sudden burst of thunder. I loved thunderstorms. Both for their awe-inspiring power, and their convenient cover of bloodbaths.

I walked in through the front door to the Council Club, and right there in the front entrance, behind a makeshift armorers workstation stood a Dunmer with a red mohawk, and a dark shirt, and grey slacks, a Dwemer War Axe slung to his side.

A Smith.

"Thanelen Velas?" I said quietly, my face hidden by my hood.

"Yeah?" he said as a lightning flash came in through the window.

In the same instant as the thunder clap came, my left hand grabbed his mouth, and my right hand brought the Black Hands Dagger across his throat, the blood being absorbed by the enchantment, and I held him there for a few seconds until his life essence was completley transferred to me, and he simply fell to the ground.

One down, four to go.

I walked down into the bar of the Council Club, and I saw three Dunmer, one male and two female sitting around enjoying their drinks, they were open and laughing amongst themselves, until I entered the foray. After which they immediatley became quiet and hostilely cold. At least they had'nt heard their friends sudden demise.

"We rent some beds, I got some goods for barter, what do you want?" said the Publican at his bar.

"A flin, please." I said quietly.

"Two hundred drakes, outlander." he said coldly.

"Seems awfully steep." I commented.

"You got a problem with it, go somewhere else. We don't like your kind anyways." he said slamming the bottle on the counter.

I pulled out a small sack of drakes and slid it to him. "Sorry, seemed like a nice enough place. I mean you got a great location, its right off the Silt Strider, and I didn't want to walk through the rain any further then I had to."

"Well, I guess you're right, just have your drink and be on your way, okay?" he said uncorking the bottle and pouring me the fine drink into a green glass.

"Why dont you just take your drink on the way out?" said the Dunmer male, in expensive looking clothes.

I looked over my shoulder to him. "Why dont I buy you a drink instead? I can share the latest rumors, as I have been traveling quite extensively."

The Savant took the offer with a selfish delight. "Sure, why not? And while we're at it. You can buy my friends some drinks as well. Vadusa! Marasa! Tell Madrale to come on up! We got ourselves a right generous outlander here...." he said walking over with his tankard.

Several hours and several hundred drakes later, while I had been more then willing to shell out the money to encourage the four Dunmer to drink themselves into a stupor, the Publican finally came over and said that it was time to close.

"Ssssure! Wahtever you shay! (hic)" said Marasa laughing looking into her glass, and sighing that she was out of her shein.

"Oh, by the way. I think that Thanelen was asking for you, barkeep. Said it was important...I think...I forget." I said, pretending to be drunk, even though I was still nursing the same glass of flin that the Publican had poured me, but in the revelry and drinking, noone had noticed, more concerned with thier own drinking.

The publican grumbled something, and walked off to the upstairs, while I suddenly shifted into battle mode. I took off my hood, and in split second I had unsheathed my Daedric Katana, stood up, and with a slash I nearly removed Sovor Trandel's head, the remaining three Dunmer Maidens did'nt quite realize what I had done, as drunk as they were, until my slash was followed by another slash that left Marasa Aren to my right dead.

The Mer Maiden dressed in black stumbled up from her chair, and tried to unsheath her sword, but her fingers slipped on the pommel the adrenaline mixing in with the alcohol. I ended her life with a thrust through the heart. The scout was down, leaving the thief....

A steel dart nearly lodged itself in my brain, but the horrible accuracy of the inebriated Madrale Thirith was my saving grave, and I gave her my own lesson in marksmanship with a silver throwing star that managed to find it's way into her eye. Her death was quick and instant.

The publican came back down, looking as though he had seen a ghost, with a small dagger in his hand, he stopped in his tracks when he saw what I had taken the twenty seconds he was gone to do. He stood frozen in fear, looking at me like I was the messenger of death. I approached him slowly, the tip of my katana stopping mere inches from his throat.

"Yes, look. Look at the death that surrounds you. Look at the doom that I have brought. You will go straight to Orvas Dren after this, you will tell noone else of this, or else I will hunt you down to the ends of Oblivion itself if I have to. You will tell Orvas Dren everything you saw here, the speed with which they were killed. You will then tell him that the Nerevarine knows of his disloyalty, and that if he and the Cammona Tong doesn't straighten up, I will kill him and every member of the Cammona Tong!"
And with that, I muttered a Divine Intervention, and dissapeared right before the Publicans eyes.

“Does our little story finally have an ending?” asked Larrius, his green eyes glinting once more, looking at the minor bloodstains on my robe. Though, they were hardly noticeable as my robes were already the color of blood.”

“Oh yes, the bad people in the story have been washed away in a little bloodbath. None saw me leave the Council Club, or enter the fort. I trust that you will remain discreet?” I said quietly.

“Not only that, I will see to it that any ‘investigation’ does not lead to you. I also found that little present from the Emperor while you were gone.” He said handing me an exquisitely jeweled ring, with a decent chameleon enchantment on it. I admired it’s detail for a few seconds.

“Do you like it? It’s called the ‘Ring of Surroundings’ it’s useful for sneaking about and such, I think it used to belong to a bad person, though they’re all good people now. Not that I think YOU had anything to do with that. And we really don’t have much use for it in the Legion, we’re more straightforward in our methods,…….usually.”

I let out a slight chuckle at his ‘usually’ comment. “Well then, our interests were aligned for a time, but I think its best we’re not seen speaking to each other for a while. Might raise some inconvenient questions. As is, I was on my way to Tel Branora. Nice and far from Balmora.”

”Then I thank you, Assassin. Best of luck.” He said, walking off to his regular duties, and I used the ring to leave in a rather subtle fashion.

Three days later, I stepped onto the ports of Tel Branora, almost as soon as I stepped off the boat, I was ‘greeted’ by a Altmer retainer looking down imposingly on me from his Cephalopod Helm.

“You arrived in Tel Branora at a very bad time, Outlander. Take my advice, get back on your boat, and head back to wherever you came from!” he said in a grated tone.

“Um. I would, except that I have pressing matters with Mistress Therana. I can say no more.”

“Ha! Good Luck! No one gets either in or out of the Tower! Therana’s orders! Now..”

I stopped him with a gesture of my hand. “Why?”

“We’re under siege from a rival Telvanni, Trerayne Dalen. She wishes to depose Therana, and my Mistress won’t allow me to attack her,…then again Therana isn’t exactly lucid lately either, and may not even realize what the Oblivion is going on!” the Altmer said in frustration.

I looked over at the small group huddled around a campfire in the distance, and my expression showed my confusion.

“You call THAT a siege?” I exclaimed. “Why don’t you just override her orders, and kill them off?”

He sighed. “ I would, but I am Theranas Captain of the Guard, and I confess that to do that would likely make the other retainers questioning of her power…Telvanni ‘custom’ as it were…”

“What if I were to take care of this problem for you? Not that you know what I am doing that is…but for the second time this week, it looks like my interests are aligned with another’s in….eliminating a nuisance.”

“HA!! If you could do that, not only would I be grateful, I would pay you handsomely for your services, a 1000 drakes sound like enough?” he asked.

“Well, I usually get paid a bit more then that….but considering the circumstances.” I said unslinging my Bonemold Long Bow and quickly and quietly positioning myself behind vegetation a short distance from the troupe of telvanni challengers.

The familiar sensation of the rising tension of the bowstring matching the tension in the center grip of the bow brought back images of unsuspecting victims in the woods of Cyrodiil. The arrow sped forth on its deadly course, landing through the steel helm of a Bonemold armored Bosmer. His sitting form slumping over caused the rest of them to jump to attention, looking for where the sudden death had come from.

At the center of the newly-formed battlemage battatlion, stood a Dunmer Maiden, in a blue robe and brandishing a Glass Staff. Her keen red eyes spotted me as she shouted and pointed me out, the remaining Bosmeri unslinging their bows, and two with a set of crossbows.

I let out two more arrows, one killing another Bosmer, the other one injuring the other. I used the Ring of Khajiit to make a quick getaway, switching postions, and closed the kill-zone, picking off the three remaining retainers of Trerayne’s.

“Trerayne Dalen. Your…uh,…’seige’ as it were is clearly failed. I’ll give you this one chance to leave, my business with Therana does not leave me any other option, flee or die.” I warned her, unsheathing an Ancient Silver Dagger.

“Then I guess I choose death…” she said casting a frostbolt at me, and then rushing me with her staff.

The bolt made contact with my left shoulder, leaving it numb, but I managed to knock her attack back, with my right forearm, scratching her extended forearm in the process, I took a step back and smiled.

“What’s so funny?” she asked with a hateful look in her eyes.

“Oh you should feel it right about….now.” I said as my eyes followed her corpse slumping to the ground, the potent poison of the dagger finishing its sinister intent.

I was about to walk off when I noticed the glint of a strange metal from one of the Bosmer retainers. Walking toward his fallen corpse, I looked at the source of the glint, it was a Crossbow, but unlike any I had ever seen. I picked it up, and felt that it rather light, comparable to my bow. I had handled and tested steel crossbows before, but there durability and power were not up too my standards of a quick kill.

This one however did. I loaded a bolt from the Bosmers bolt quiver, and tested the power on his Cuirass. Not that I enjoyed target-practicing on corpses, mind you. But again, extenuating circumstances. I gave a cry of admiration as the bolt pierced the cuirass almost to the tail of the bolt. This was a weapon worthy of an Assassin.

I walked back to the port where the Atlmer paced around, and gave him a knowing nod.

“It is done? Excellent work! Here. A thousand drakes, as I promised. And for what it’s worth, I will tell Mistress Therana of your work here. Just tell her Mollimo of Cloudrest sent you.” He said handing me a decent sized sack of gold.

“Say, while I got you here. You ever seen anything like this before? One of the retainers had it on him.” I said showing him the crossbow, that was of a dull orange color.

“Yes, that’s a rare weapon you’re holding. It’s an authentic Dwemer Crossbow, all modern crossbows are a cheap imitation of its quality, 4000 years old, and that weapon is still unsurpassed. You have to re-string it of course, but I would hold on to it if I were you, seems like you to keep your distance from your enemies, could come in handy….”

“Anywhere around here that sells silver bolts? I prefer not to have suprises..”

“Yes, the smith here in Tel Branora does as a matter of fact. Good Day to you outlander.” Mollimo said walking off to his patrols.

I exchanged my arrows and bow for a large quiver of bolts, and got some practice in with my new weapon, the mechanics were something to get used too, but I found that with practice, I could reload the crossbow, almost as fast as I could nock an arrow to full draw for maximum pentration. It would take something extraordinary to convince me to exchange my weapon, and this Dwemer design was certainly that.

With my newfound weapon slung to my back, I made my way to Therana’s Chambers with the Mouth of Master Aryons gift, the Levitation Amulet, and finally found out what all the fuss was about with her.

“What are you here for? Are you here to feed the spiders?" the ancient Mistress-Mage asked me, I looked over at her nude Khajiit Slave in confusion, and he shrugged his furry shoulders.

“Um. Mistress Therana?” I asked her.

“Eh? Oh Yes, yes. Therana. What is it?”

“Umm. I would like to ask you for your vote as Telvanni Hortator your Ladyship.” I said mustering the most polite tone I could.

She didn’t seem to understand the question…”"It's a steel box, of course. You keep things like bittergreen roots in it, keeps 'em fresh, with a little netch blood. Or is that a hormador? Yes. Or spiders. In the box. Spider eggs. Keeps 'em fresh. With netch blood. You wouldn't have any with you, eh? Spider eggs? Nice fresh ones? So, go ahead. Show me the hordador. Hormador? You got it with you? Always happy to get some fresh spider eggs. Or spiders? When I was a MUCH younger, we grew our own spiders..."

Not wishing to offend her, I listened politely for a moment.

"...In hormadors. Big ones. Needed 'em big, for the spiders. What? Spiders? You listening? Spiders. That's what I said. Big ones. So you need a big hortator. Ours was steel, with silver plating. Kier-jo used to polish it. Cute little kitty. Had it since it was a bitty kitty. Gone now, of course. Dropped dead. They get old, and you have to get new ones. Never quite as good as the old ones, of course, but what can you do. Oh! There you are, Sethyas! What was your name again? Are you listening to me?"

Realizing that this was going nowhere quickly, and that Therana was utterly insane, I used an old trick that used to make my Sister giggle when we were smaller.

“Hey! You wanna see me take my finger off? Watch this!” I said giving the illusion of taking off my index finger which was actually my thumb.

Therana squealed like a little girl in delight.

“Oooh! How’d you do that??!!”

“Tell you what. Make me a Hortator, and Ill show you it again!” I said speaking to her like an adult might making a child excited about a trip to a relatives house.

“Oh! You want to BE a Hortator? Go right ahead! I don’t mind. Now show me how you do that thing!!”she said clapping her hands in delight.

I showed her the ‘trick’ to which she then tried to do on herself, unsuccessfully. As I walked away, wondering whether I got her vote or not, I saw her pick up a Daedric Dagger off a table exclaiming “Ill make the finger come off!”
I heard a scream of pain as I floated down the chamber to leave Tel Branora, I stifled my laughter until I had reached the boat. Next Stop, Sadrith Mora, and the infamously belligerent Neloth.

These Telvanni certainly were not boring.

On the trip to the Telvanni Council Seat, I remembered my Master telling me a story about a deal he had made once, with a Mark Writ, whom proved to be a worthy adversary.

”So this Argonian was asked to kill a Traitor, we gave him explicit instructions to poison him. But it turns out he took him out with a viper-bolt instead. When he tells me of his…deviation from the plan, I nearly killed him then and there.”

“Why didn’t you?” I asked.

“The n’wah pulled out the damn crossbow on ME….besides, I am Morag Tong. I gave my word that we would let him live, if he fulfilled our end of the bargain.”

I wondered who that Argonian was as I lingered in the sun on the deck of the ship, thinking about my new crossbow, and if it would serve me as well.

I arrived in Sadrith Mora soon thereafter, still chuckling to myself over the insanity of Therana, and now came to call upon Neloth. The shaft leading up to his chambers were longer then most, and I actually had to cast the amulets enchantment twice.

Floating to the top, I saw the expression that I doubt had changed in hundreds of years, Neloths ill-tempered expression.

“Master Neloth?” I asked quietly.

“Whatever you want, the answer is no!” he yelled at me.

‘Okay’ I said to myself. ‘So far this is going quite well.’

“Your Lordshi—OW!” I said as he threw a bottle at my head, I rubbed the sore spot looking up at him with angered and confused eyes.

“I just said, NO! Now get out of my Tower!” he snapped again.

I sighed. “Neloth. Please accept this Daedric Dagger as a token of my respect.” I said handing him one of my many shortblades.

“Ah! Now this is more like it! Someone who knows how to get something out of me. All right you can leave now!” he said admiring the sinister design of the Dagger.

“Um. Neloth will you vote for me as Hortator of House Telvanni? I said quickly.

He gave me another irritable glance. “Hortator? War leader of House Telvanni? Is that necessary? Why doesn't anyone tell me about these things? So. Do you want the job? Are you qualified? Good. Then go ahead. I don't care. Be the Hortator. Now go away." He yelled picking up a broom and running towards me with it.

I jumped down the shaft, and laughed, he reminded me of the Vitner back in Cyrodill who used to chase Setsuna and I out of his crops for stealing grapes, he of course would tell the Chapel Monks, and we paid for it later, but it was still fun. Crotchety old geezer.

So that left Dratha, and Gothren. The Archmagister was likely to be the harder one, I decided to try to gather the vote from Dratha first, as perhaps if I had the rest of the Council’s support, Gothren would listen to reason. Then again, the higher ranked Telvanni you were, the crazier you were, it seemed.

Three hours after outrunning the cranky conjurer, I arrived on the Docks of Tel Mora. Now I would have to convince a man-hating Mage-Lord to support me as her Houses’ war leader. This was turning out to be quite the experience.

Levitating to the top of her tower, I did notice a,….peculiarity. All of her retainer were women. Not that I was complaining. A lot of them were Bosmer women. Oh that’s right, I never did clarify, I dislike Bosmer MEN. Then women on the other hand are actually quite…enticing. But I was not here to violate my loves trust, I was here to attempt a potentially suicidal act.

“What is this Man doing here? Is IT lost?” came the Councilors shrill voice as she laid a disdainful eye on me.

“Mistress Dratha? May I have a moment?” I asked with my head lowered.

“Oh, B’vek! IT IS A MAN!! AE CHIM –“ she started with a powerful spell that would likely destroy the very top of her tower, this was no time to be egotistical.

“pleasedontkillme!pleasedontkillme!pleasedontkillme!” I pleaded throwing my self at her feet. Instead of the burns of a spell, her laughter echoed down on me instead.

“Oh, that's so pathetic. Look at the poor bunny. Oh, I suppose now we must be merciful, and at least listen to it." She said chuckling.

I proceeded with my story, and she smiled, and nodded taking in every word with an agreeable demeanor, which I preferred over being blown to smithereens.


“Hmm. Well. I'm glad we listened. And glad you persisted. So there's something to those old prophecies after all. I shouldn't wonder. Pig-headed Battlemages don't pay attention to Lady Azura's portents as they should. And you are the foretold Nerevarine? Well, then. You shall be our Hortator. You have my vote. And my blessing. And this scroll. It will come in handy where you're going." She said handing me a scroll of summon golden saint, I had used one previously in my near-fatal encounter with the Ienith brothers, Drens personal assassins.

“But before you leave, Sethyas. I have one more question.”

“Anything, Mistress.” I said gratefully.

“Do you remember me at all? I knew you in your previous life. We stood together at the Battle of Red Mountain, I was a mere retainer at the time. But, I knew you to be a great leader then, and, I can the same thing in you now.”

“You were Chimer once? No, Mistress. I don’t, I’m sorry. I’m not sure I would want to remember.”

“Yes. I was there before the ‘Gods’ of the Tribunal, and I saw my family turn to the Dunmer, I am one of perhaps a few dozen Dunmer whom may boast such a feat. But it does not matter, we were not close, I was merely a ‘soldier’ as it were.” She said hiding something in those words. I wonder what she really knew.

The last Councilor stood before me. Archmagister Gothren. Lets see what he had to say, I told myself.

In the streets of the smaller Telvanni Ciy of Tel Aruhn, I made my path to the final Councilor and Archmagister, Gothren. I closed my robes closer around me, the cold winds of the Zariferbal bay blew onto me, as the dying sun cast its reflections upon the water.

The amulet, now quite low on its reserves of magicka, gave me one of its last charges. I didn’t want to take out Gothren if it weren’t absolutely necessary, and was hoping that it was possible to reason with the Mer.

“*sigh* What do you want?” The youngish (for an Ancient Dunmer Wizard) Telvanni Archmagister asked me, looking over me with deep red eyes. His power was evident by the two Dremora Guards he had permanently summoned. They regarded me with an alien malevolence

“Archmagister Gothren. I would speak with you in the important matter of Telvanni Hortator.”

”Yes, yes. I know what a Hortator is.” He replied impatiently.

I told him my story, and then asked to be confirmed as Hortator.

“No. Wait. Let me think.... Yes. I understand perfectly. Your story makes sense. Your proofs are persuasive.... But a decision on such a remarkable matter is a grave responsibility, and not to be taken in haste. I will need some time to reflect and consider, and to confer with the other Telvanni counselors. Leave me." He said with a sudden change in tone. It was as Aryon had said. Regardless, I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, and I left to the Plot and Plaster to rent a room for the evening.

“We have no rooms Outlander.” The publican said, and I looked around the empty halls.

”Care to clarify that? You have no rooms, for ME, you mean?” I said crossly. “I am quite tired and wish no trouble, I have traveled quite a bit today…”

“You haven’t traveled far enough.” He said coldly.

“Are you threatening me?” I said fingering my hilt.

“Lord Dagoth awakens, and he and all his host shall spill forth and spoil the land. You have betrayed his mercy false one. Your flesh will feed us!” he ranted.

Just what I needed. A Sleeper. And the Publican of the Plot and Plaster at that.

“’Lord’ Dagoth’s days are numbered, and I would suggest that you tell him that, if you can.” I said exiting the Tavern, and casting a Divine Intervention. It looked like I was waiting in Dirty Muriels.

A few days later I returned to Tel Aruhn, and petitioned the Archmagister once more.

“Yes, I am still taking the matter of your appointment as Telvanni Hortator under consideration."

“And, is there any change?” I asked, my patience wearing thin.

“Very well. I have heard your story. And you are not one of us, so I suppose I'll have to explain. Or you'll just keep annoying me. I have no intention of naming you Hortator of House Telvanni. It is not in Telvanni interests to name an unknown and unreliable outlander and outsider to such an important position. My opinion will not change. If you persist in bothering me, you will regret it. This discussion is over." He said signaling his Daedra Guards to intimidate me out.

“I see then, sorry to waste your time, Serjo.” I said with a forced smile, and I walked away.

Then I loaded my Dwemer crossbow with my back to Gothren, quickly spinning around I held it out with one hand and I fired the bolt towards his heart, and while the bolt was still in the air, I unsheathed my Daedric katana and let out a battle cry, ignoring his Dremora, and aiming straight for his heart.

The bolt lodged itself into his center chest, to which he grunted, and yelped in shock and surprise as I came almost as quick as the bolt had, with an overhand chop at the ready. But the Archmagister was quick too, and when the blades deadly edge was mere inches from his head, he had casted some powerful spell on me that left me paralyzed and drained my willpower.

The only thing I could do was grunt as the Daderic Maces of the Dremora bashed into my arms and ribcage, breaking a few ribs in the process. The Daedra hit hard, especially when you can’t move. Finally the effects of the spell wore off, and Gothren was busy trying to remove his bolt, and I rolled onto my back the pressure on my broken bones giving me an excruciating but sobering pain.

Using my acrobatics skill, I jumped with great difficulty onto one of the Mushroom Pods tall ledges, and drank down one of the most powerful restoratives I had. Healing with magicka is still a painful process, as the ribs were forced back into place, and mended themselves, and the bruises slowly faded from under my Dark Brotherhood Armor.

“Insolent Wretch!” Gothren screamed. “You will never leave this tower alive! I will kill you, and bring you back as a Bonewalker and force you to lick my toes clean everyday!!”

“Funny.” I said loading another bolt. “I was just about to tell you the same thing.” I took careful aim, as he cast a levitation spell, and fired a Shock Bolt at me.

I fired the bolt, and his attack met in midair, the bolt being disintegrated by his shockbolt. Better it then me. I reloaded and fired again, he narrowly dodged the attack, though it did land in his thigh this time, and he grunted in pain.

I jumped off the ledge, landing on Gothren in mid-air, my black gloved hand bringing an ancient silver dagger slamming down into his neck. The poison coursing through his system, and he was dead before he landed on the floor. There was a small problem though.

Normally, when conjured, Daedra disappear when the summoner dies, that’s just how powerful Gothren really was. The Dremora Guards rushed me to avenge their former master, Maces at the strike position, Bound Shields at the guard positon.

“Ahhh! Forget this!” I yelled as I cast Divine Intervention once more. I was in no mood to prove some meaningless swordsman prowess; I had eliminated the man who made himself my target to achieve my higher goal, my job here was done.

A day later, after I had rested and finished healing from my near fatal encounter with the Archmagister, I arrived once more in Tel Vos. Aryons beaming smile told me that he had already received some good news.

“We meet once more, good Sethyas. It would seem that you are our Hortator, as you have officially gathered up all the votes of the surviving councilors. I hear that Therana had a minor self-inflicted injury however, ranting something about how could an outlander be more powerful in magics then she,….and something about spiders too.”

I showed him my simple trick, and he bellowed in laughter. “That would do it. But you have now done something that hasn’t been done in centuries. You have managed to unite all the Houses under a single War Leader. I wish you luck Hortator, I may even pray for you.”

“Well, I hope that you lead your House well,…Archmagister. Your little ploy to overthrow Gothren has succeeded it would seem.” I mused.

“Yes, well. With Baladas’ support,…and strangely enough Mistress Dratha’s as well.”

”Well, she’s more reasonable then she seems, it’s been…..well, quite frankly, all you damn Telvanni are Guardung Crazy, but I appreciate your assistance in these matters Aryon.”

“As do I, Assassin, as do I.”

Tel Vos was rather close to the Ahemmusa Camp. But, I had long spent my time and recent experience with the House Dunmer. I had learned and manipulated their ways to achieve my own ends, I even became a ‘Councilman’, but that is not me. I am far too used to the shadows and backstage intrigue, to act as an overt policy decider.

Instead, I returned to Urshilaku Camp, to my guide in these Prophecies of the Nerevarine, Nibani Maesa. In the middle of an ashstorm, I returned to her yurt, after many months of uniting the houses to my cause.

“Clanfriend! It has been many cycles of the moons! We have heard much of your deeds! Is the fourth trial finished? Are the Houses as one?” Nibani said clasping the sides of my face with her hands.

“They are.” I smiled grateful to be in her presence once more, she had become as a grandmother to me, and I would die to protect her, and my adopted tribe.

“Have you been well, child? Has the unification taken its toll on you? When we last spoke, you were capable of tears. Now. I sense that you are much more confident in your role in things, and colder as well. I pray that light I once saw in your eyes returns.” She said, correctly seeing that the events of the Fourth Trial required all my ruthlessness. Politics is no place for emotion and compassion, especially amongst those who have little to none.

“The light is dimmed, but not extinguished, Nibani. But I hope that I may spend some time with the tribe, that I may re-accustom myself to its ways once more. For now, I need rest. I will speak to you of all these things in the morning.” I said laying myself down to an extra bedroll in her yurt.

In the morning we ate together, and I told her of all things that I had done. Hlaalu, and their subtle ways, so like my own. Redoran, and their politics that required my membership and subtle ways, and the Guardung Crazy Telvanni. She had a good laugh over my encounter with Mistress Therana, and had a dark look to her face over Orvas Dren and his neice, my love, Ilmeni Dren.

“While I would never counsel you to needlessly take the life of another, child. If you value the love and life of Ilmeni, you must be willing to make a sacrifice for her. Even if it is her Uncle, tread carefully Sethyas….” She warned me.

In the noon sun, on the clear Ashland fields, I then joined Ashkhan Sul-Matuul in a hunt, and we both carefully stalked and killed a kagouti, his chitin shortbow wounding the animal in the side of the leg, my Dwemer Crossbow nearly splitting its skull, instantly killing the creature.

He gave my weapon a mixed look of annoyance and admiration.

”What is this thing?” he asked, taking the weapon as I offered it for examination.
“It is Dwemer-make. An ancient, and yet nearly unsurpassed weapon. It has served me well in the meantime, an asset to my trade.”

He handed it back with a chuckle. “However you wish, Clanfriend. But I wonder, how many days will pass until you are ready to leave us?”

“The Fifth Trial? I am unsure, the ways of the House Dunmer are so different, even from one another. How can I begin to grasp the ways of tribes not of the Urshilaku?”

He thought in mind a moment. “Perhaps you require some advice then? Will you, once more, hear the counsel of your humble Ashkhan?”

”Always.” I said nodding.

He began, as a Grandfather may tell his grandchild an old story.

“The Fifth Trial is: 'A stranger's hand unites the Velothi/Four Tribes call him Nerevarine.' The Four Tribes are the four tribes of Vvardenfell, the Urshilaku, the Ahemmusa, the Zainab, and the Erabenimsun.”

"You must go to Ahemmusa camp. I have heard the Ahemmusa are in a pitiful way, and that they do not have an ashkhan. In this case, the wise woman may be acting as the chief of the tribe, and perhaps she can speak for the tribe to name you Ahemmusa Nerevarine."

"You must go to Erabenimsun camp. The ashkhan of the Erabenimsun, Ulath-Pal, is a strong chief, but violent and cruel. He and his gulakhans are known as killers, and attack unarmed victims and betray the rules of hospitality. It is a difficult problem. Only the ashkhan can name you Nerevarine. But this ashkhan may not be willing, and even if he were, he is a bad chief, dishonorable, and not to be trusted. I do not know what you should do. Speak to the tribe's wise woman. Perhaps she will give you counsel."

“You must go to Zainab camp. The ashkhan of the Zainab, Kaushad, is a strong and popular chief, but he is known to be vain and hard-headed. To persuade him to name you Zainab Nerevarine, you must be strong, yes, but you must also be clever, to please him and earn his favor."

“It sounds as though the Ahemmusa would like a visit from me first. Would they require anything beyond my proofs, do you think?”

“Any wise khan would ask a favor of an accomplished warrior in return for the declaration of Tribe Nerevarine. Be prepared for such a request.” He nodded.

“And I am an Accomplished Warrior?” I laughed.

”You defeated the Khan of the Redorans, did you not? I think that feat speaks in and of itself. Indeed, from what Nibani tells me, you defeated him in cunning and in battle. I believe now, more then ever, that you are the prophesied one.” He said taking a chitin dagger to his kill, skinning the kagouti.

“And all this isn’t overwhelming to you?” I asked

“Is it too you?” he replied looking up from his work.

“I suppose, I mean, prophecies and reborn generals…I remember nothing from my previous life. I have only the tales that the Tribes speak, and the conflicting account of the Telvanni…I still don’t know whether House Dagoth was at the Battle of Red Mountain to help or fought against Nerevar, and yet Dagoth Ur readily calls me his old friend, and claimed that I struck him down.”

“What happened before any of us could remember is not what is important, but it is important that we do not let it happen again.” Sul-Matuul spoke rolling up the hide, and walking back towards the camp.

“But come, let us return, and we shall feast to your safe return, Nerevar! Then tomorrow, you shall seek out the other tribes and become declared Nerevarine!” he said cheerfully.

The pleasant exchange of the terrain from Ashland into Grazeland heightened my mood, but the responsibilities of the duties I had assumed in the name of the Nerevarine, were never far from my mind. Even now, with the Ahemmusa Camp in the horizon, I did not forsee any easy task before me.

The first wandering tribe member I saw looked upon me as though she knew me intimately, though I had never seen her before. She wore blue robes, and had a feathered headdress prominently displayed above her wizened face.

“Stranger! You are the one I have seen in my dreams and visions!” she exclaimed.

I blinked. “Excuse me? Um…you are?”

“I am Urshamusa Rapli, I am a Wise Woman. Would you hear my message, stranger?”

Knowing well that the Wise Women did have abilities far beyond the scope that others held, I did listen, what this had to do with the title of Nerevarine of the Ahemmusa, I did not know.

“There is a White Guar that you find where the path forks, where the rocks grow from the ground like a hand, the White Guar is your guide, you must follow it too the providence of my tribe.”

I blinked. Twice. “You want me to look for a ‘White’ Guar, and follow it? Right. Where is this ‘White’ Guar?” I asked, trying to hide the disbelief in my voice, more leaning towards the thought that this woman was insane, rather then clairvoyant.

“Where the rocks grow from the path in the shape of a hand.” She said matter-of-factly.

“Right! How silly of me! Ill…just be off..to look for a ‘white guar’ where the rocks look like a hand.” I said walking towards the Ashkhans yurt.

“Stranger! Please! I know my words to be strange! But I speak the truth, my visions have never failed me!” she said with an urging tone in her voice.

I looked at the expression in her eyes, she was desperate. She was telling the truth. If she believed it to be true, who was I to say..had one told me that I would be where I was now, I would have laughed and said that Sheogorath surely had their mind.

I felt the first inkling of pity in months, and I took her request, and headed out west from the camp,…..to look for a white guar. I’m such a tool.

My search did not take long, indeed, the fact that I actually SAW a cropping of rocks in the fork of the path I walked, that resembled an up stretched hand left me dumbstruck. It was followed by an equally astounding sight. At first I did not make anything out, but I saw the slightest wiggle from behind the rocks, followed by a rumbling that sounded an awful lot like a Guar.

Inspecting the other side, I found a pair of eyes of a ….White Guar, staring at me. It immediately began to walk westward. For a third time, I was left dumbstruck. Dreams and Visions indeed. As an amateur alchemist, the study of animals was part of the discipline, and I knew that Albino’s, that is animals born without large amounts of pigmentation, were extremely rare. And one that started walking as soon as I saw it, and occasionally stopping to look behind it to make sure I was following it, was even rarer. What can I say? I followed.

Finally, the creature stopped over a corpse that had been in the field for many years, I rubbed the Guars head, and it rumbled affectionately. I looked to the skeletal remains, and began to dig it a grave. At the very least, this forgotten person would have a resting place. Among my transferring of the bones to its bed, I found an enchanted amulet. Normally, I would have buried it with the previous owner, but somehow I felt compelled to take it with me. I knew that this thing was why I had come.

As I finished the burial with a cropping of rocks, in the shape of a hand, I fingered the Amulet, and said a few prayers.

“I beg your forgiveness for taking your possession. But somehow, I think that you led me too this. I will fulfill your wishes, rest now. Azura bless thee.”

A half hour later, I returned to the Wise Woman, Urshamusa, and she looked upon the Amulet carefully. Tears welling up in her eyes.

“Yes, stranger…I recognize this, it was Ashamanu’s, a powerful healer of our tribe many years ago, it was said that she would give of her life again and again so that others may live. This is a miracle and a blessing! This amulet can cure the blight of the devil! I will use it to heal my tribe,…but, I never asked you, who are you, stranger?”

I looked to the ground in uncertainty.

“I am Sethyas Velas, Sera. I come in the name of the Nerevarine.”

She gasped at the, perhaps, mixed blessing that had come to her.

“Do you come to claim the name of Nerevarine? Then you want to speak to the wise woman, Sinnammu Mirpal. But first, you must show respect, and speak to one of our gulakhans. You will find them in their yurts. They will speak with you." She said nodding with bewilderment.

I entered into the Yurt of one of the Gulakhans, a mid-aged Mer whom showed me the hospitality of the tribe, sort of.

“Who are you? What do you want?” He said not lifting his eyes from his meal.

“I am Sethyas Velas. What do you know of the Nerevarine Prohpecies?”

"We have heard of these prophecies. We have heard of an outlander who comes to claim the name of Nerevarine. What good are these prophecies? Where is this hero who comes to save us? Our herds, our people, our lands die, and no one will help us. Who is this Nerevarine?" he said with a pained tone in his voice.

“He stands before you now.”

He peered at me for a moment, looking over my robes and weapons.

“Do you come to claim the name of Nerevarine? I hope you come to do the deeds of the Nerevarine. We need the deeds, not the name. You must speak to the wise woman, Sinnammu Mirpal. We are a poor, sad tribe, without an ashkhan, and led by a wise woman. And we are its gulakhans. We say this with shame, for we are as weak and helpless as children. Go to her, outlander. Tell her you will do the deeds of a hero, and save the Ahemmusa. Maybe then you will have earned the name 'Nerevarine.'"

I felt a mixed reaction of pity and anger. I was to get a helpless tribe to back me up in the fight against Dagoth Ur? These people could not help themselves, much less me. But, I suppose that is why I was here. The Nerevarine returns to fulfill his promises to the tribes.

I walked to the Wise Woman, Sinammu Mirpal’s yurt, and we greeted each other amiably enough. But that was for show perhaps, and she asked me bluntly:

"I have heard of an outlander who seeks to fulfill the Nerevarine prophecies, and to be named Nerevarine. Are you that outlander?"

“I am.” I nodded. "I want the Ahemmusa to name me Nerevarine."

"I will examine your proofs, and you will tell me your story. And if I am satisfied, according to custom, and with reference to the prophecies, I will name you Ahemmusa Nerevarine. But there will be a price. The Ahemmusa need a safe place, and you will provide that safe place."

“Where might that be? I have not yet faced Dagoth Ur.”

"In seasons past, when threatened, the Ahemmusa could take shelter in the ruins of Ald Daedroth. But now the priestess Hlireni Indavel has come and restored the Daedric shrine, and worshippers of Sheogorath dwell there, protected by terrible sorceries and summonings. First, you will go to Ald Daedroth and make it safe for the Ahemmusa. Then you will return, and I will accompany you there, and if Ald Daedroth is a safe place for my people, then I will name you Nerevarine."

”Okay, what would you have me do?”

“You are the hero. You decide what must be done. We are not traders, to haggle over the meaning of 'safe.' We are not a warlike people. We are not strong with warriors and witch-wizards. Make Ald Daedroth safe for us. Then, when I accompany you to Ald Daedroth, then you and I will judge whether it is safe."

“I see. Where is Ald Deadroth?”

"The Ald Daedroth Daedric site is a shrine to Sheogorath, the Mad Lord. The surface ruins are on an island a great distance north as the racer flies."

“A Daedric site? I have had some experience with those in the past. Not terribly inviting inhabitants…..”I commented, and she told me what she knew of them.

"When the Velothi first came to Morrowind, they worshipped our most terrible ancestors, the Daedra Lords. Legends say the Daedra Lords themselves built these great shrines, because mortals could not build anything grand enough to suit them. When the Tribunal claimed to have tamed the Daedra Lords, they forbid the worship of the Bad Daedra, Malacath, Mehrunes Dagon, Molag Bal, and Sheogorath."

"For thousands of years, the Temple kept these ancient shrines closed, but in recent years, as Dagoth Ur grew stronger and the Temple weaker, there were fewer and fewer priest-soldiers, and they were all sent to Ghostgate. Now the Temple can't keep the witches and warlocks of the Daedra cults from bringing the old shrines back to life."

“And Ald Daedroth’s inhabitants are servants to Sheogorath?” I asked.

"For those who serve Sheogorath, the Mad Lord, there is no good or evil, right or wrong, true or false, real or unreal. For them, there is only what they want, and what they see. With such carelessness, only the very strong and very lucky cultists survive, while the weak provide sport and amusement for the others. And the Spawn of Sheogorath are never twice the same, and each more terrible than the next. It is an evil cult, and dangerous."

“So what do you know of Hlireni Indavel?”

"All I know is that she is a Dunmer, and she and her followers have defied the Temple's ban against the worship of the Four Corners of the House of Troubles, the four Daedra Lords, Mehrunes Dagon, Molag Bal, Malacath, and Sheogorath. Since so many Ordinators are busy fighting the hosts of Dagoth Ur at Ghostgate, many of the abandoned Daedric sites are once again inhabited."

"The Ordinators, the priest-soldiers of the Temple, have the duty of keeping worshippers from restoring the old Daedric sites scattered throughout the wastelands and along the rocky coasts and islands of Vvardenfell. Now these Ordinators are busy elsewhere, and the old Daedric sites are coming back to life. Some traders reported a ship carrying a few Ordinators has sailed from Molag Maar for Ald Daedroth, but my timid scouts won't dare approach the island."

“Leaving an assault to me….” I said.

“You are the Hero, you claim to be Nerevar. This is my price.” She stated.

“I am Nerevar, but I am no Hero.” I said leaving her yurt.

And indeed as she said, Ald Daedroth was quite the distance north from the Camp, and I heard the sounds of battle as I water-walked towards the shores of the imposing shrine.

The ebony mace of a blue-robed ordinator cracked against the Bonemold Armor of an Orc Warrior, followed by the summoning of a Bonewalker that tore the screaming Orc apart, unbeknownst to me, a Dunmer lady walked up beside me, watching the fight as well.

“I don't know you, do I? Are you here for the dance? Or are you here with the gold-hats?" she asked as I flinched.

“Dance? What do you mean, ‘dance’?”

"Don't you know what's going on? Go down and talk to Hlireni Indavel in the big room with the statue. There's free drinks, too. And watch out for the gold-hats. They play rough." She said grabbing her Dwarven Spear and rushing the Ordinator, only to meet the same fate as the Orc before her.

“Who are you, Outlander? And why are you here?” Said the Ordinator, menacingly waving his blood-soaked mace in my face.

“My business here is private, Priest-Soldier. Leave me be, and I will return the favor.

“I don’t think it’s that simple…explain why you have come here, or meet the same fate as the Worshippers.”

”I’m here to loot the shrine, all right? I just didn’t expect to see the freaking temple here to defend it!” I said thinking up a lie quick.

He considered me for a moment, and then hung his mace in his belt. “Ah, you’re an Adventurer then….I should have realized. Very well, tell you what. You go ahead and look for treasure all you like, as a matter of fact, maybe you’d like to help us out with cleansing the shrine…get some blade practice in. Heh, you’d like that wouldn’t you outlander?” the Ordinator said walking off.

With his back turned, my Katana unsheathed, and found its way through his heart.”

“Yes, I would, Temple Scum. Sorry, wrong place at the wrong time, and I cannot allow you to live, you would threaten that which I need done.” I said as his corpse slumped to the floor. Perhaps Sinammu had more then one Idea of what safe was, there was only one to me. People can change their minds; betray others to suit their own interests. Dead People do not. It was that simple, and that cold to me.

I continued throughout the shrine, slaughtering Ordinator and Worshipper alike. Finding that the shrine was actually dedicated to the entire Four Corners of the Temple, and in a wing dedicated to Mehrunes Dagon, I found two more of the Sanguine Tokens, dedicated to the followers of Mephala, Eno would be pleased.

And finally, in the lowest levels of Ald Daedroth, with blood dripping from my dark blade, I approached two worshippers drinking sujamma around a Scamp. What was in store I will remember for the rest of my days.

“Meow.”

“Meow?”

“Meow.”

“Right. Who are you?”

“Are you blind? Ra’Gruzgob’s a Khajiit! How’s my tail look?”

“Looks fine Ra’Gruzgob.” I said laughing.

“Hey! Ra’Gruzgob likes you! Maybe he tells you a little secret!”

“Whats that, Kitty?”

“Gimme some Moon Sugar, and I’ll tell you!” he said like a little child. He was actually an orc, but try telling that to a follower of Sheogorath.

Spotting some of the sugar on a ledge next to him, I handed him the small amount.

“Sugar! Look under my pillow! I left a present for the Sugar Fairy!” he said licking the Moon Sugar.

At that time the Dunmer Maiden that was sitting next to the Orc/Khajiit gave me sensual smile.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? Do you have your invitation? Are you a Player of the Game? Or one of the Game Pieces? Or a humble Spectator?"

"Were you summoned? Or do you come of your own free will? It hardly matters... the party is open to all. But make sure you pay your respects to the host. And grab a drink from Lustidrike, over in the corner. Then feel free to mingle with the other guests, to join the dancing, chancing throng. I believe the ones in the gold masks are party crashers, but all are welcome to the Mad God's Masque and Bellicose Ball."

“Oh,…I’m a player of the game, all right…” I said with a dark tone, the pity that I had felt for the Ahemmusa had left me long ago…

"Well, well, well. Do you have a game you want to play? Tell me..."

“I call it…leave or die…or just die.” I said as I brought the Katana down in a deathstroke, Ra’Gruzgob clapped his hands in delight as Hlireni’s head fell at his sitting form.

I looked at the Scamp, and the Orc, and decided that they were of no threat to the Ahemmusa. To be honest, even Sinammu Mirpal could have taken on the Sugar-deteriorated Orc and won. While my actions here at Ald Daedroth were not honorable, indeed, they were downright reprehensible; the Ahemussa deserved a safe place. And I hoped that I created that with my slaughter.

I made a quick prayer to Mephala for the murder that once more came to the site of Ald Daedroth, and I returned to the Ahemussa Camp.

“So, Sethyas Velas, have you made a safe place for the Ahemmusa? Is Ald Daedroth prepared for my arrival?”

”Everyone is dead, I think that’s about as safe as I can make it.” I said with a cold tone.

She blinked twice. Her tribe’s gentle ways were a sharp contrast to my cold-bloodedness.

“I…don’t know what to say. The Ordinators?”

“I said that everyone was dead. I have no love for the temple any more then I do for those whom worship Sheogorath.”

“Then I shall accompany you to the Shrine. When there, if I have arrived safely, I will declare you Nerevarine of the Ahemmusa.” She said quietly, and we left, walking in silence to the shrine, over the water.

As we walked up the shores, she made quiet prayers to Azura for those I had slain, including the Ordinators whom persecuted her people, and finally she looked upon the face of the Statue of Sheogorath.

“You have made this place safe for the Ahemmusa. And so I name you Ahemmusa Nerevarine, War Leader of the Ahemmusa, and Protector of the People. I also give you the Madstone of the Ahemmusa, which shall be a sign to all Dunmer, that you are the Nerevarine, and that the Ahemmusa shall follow you, in all things, even unto death, until the Enemy is defeated, or until you are dead. Now, I can stay only briefly. Soon I must return to Ahemmusa camp and make preparations to relocate here."

"You give us new hope. You have saved the Ahemmusa, and perhaps you shall fulfill the Nerevarine prophecies." She said with a timber of hope in her voice, though the act required bloodshed, she appreciated what it was I had done for her.

“So strange, that you recovered the Amulet of Ashamanu, and helped my people, and yet are capable of this as well. What are you, Nerevar? A Killer? A Hero? A bit of both?”

“In this life, Sinammu. I am an Assassin.” I said.

I left the Ahemmusa after some time, as to assist them in there preparations for their Exodus to Ald Daedroth. Perhaps it was my aversion to others thinking well of me, but I was quiet and aloof to them. Though they were a gentle tribe and the whispers of ‘hero’ and ‘savior’ made me feel good in some small way, I did not see my actions here as what they whispered.

“You go next to the Zainab Camp? Kaushad is a wise Chief, a strong leader. But also a very proud man, do nothing to offend him or his image to his people, but I am confident that you shall soon be the Nerevarine of the Zainab.” Sinammu Mirpal, the Wise Woman counseled me.

“May I say one more thing, Nerevarine?” she said in a quiet tone, to which I nodded.

“I have seen that your words are few, and a dark cloud surrounds you. You do not wish to be the Nerevarine? Your destiny burdens you?”

“In many ways, yes. The Dunmer, they whisper amongst themselves that the only time they were ever truly united, was under Nerevar. And yet, the Temple tells them that I am a heretic, something to be feared and destroyed. Duty requires that I continue with what I am doing, but when all others hate you for it…..”

“Why go on? Yes, I understand the feeling. It was not easy when we lost our Ashkhan, as the duty of leading the tribe fell upon me. I am a Wise Women, well versed in the ways of prophecy and mysticsm, but leading the farmers and herders? Along with the blight that eats away at my people and lands? Who can stand up to such an invincible foe? What can a frail woman do in such a situation? And yet…you came. You who conquered Kogoruhn, you who bear the ring of Nerevar, and live to tell the tale. You don’t accept that you bring with you the most powerful weapon of all.”

I looked at her quizzically.

“Hope. He speaks the law for Veloth's people. He speaks for their land, and names them great." ” she said placing a hand on my chest. “Go now. They wait for you…”

I left southward for the Zainab Camp, walking slowly through the Grazelands, remembering Ashkhan Sul-Matuul’s words from so long ago….”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.”

Arriving near the camp, a Dunmer Ashlander Woman peered closely at me, standing up from her kneeling over a bowl of Shalk Resin. She then waved me to approach her.

"Come closer. Let me see you. Yes. I think it is you. The one they talk about. The outlander who claims he fulfills the Nerevarine prophecies. You should talk to Ashkhan Kaushad."
“The word spreads that quickly, huh?” I said laughing.

"We heard rumors. Some outlander says he is the Nerevarine. So you are that outlander? What do you say to that, eh?"

I showed her the Moon-And-Star and told her that I was indeed that outlander.


"Hmm. Is that all true? That is a very interesting ring. It is part of the story of Nerevar, the ring Moon-and-Star, that none may wear but Nerevar himself. You should talk to Ashkhan Kaushad. The ashkhan is very curious about this outlander who claims to be the Nerevarine. He is the mightiest champion and greatest ashkhan of all the Ashlander tribes. A very great man. You should talk to him. He is a very curious man, always speaking with traders and travelers about the news of the world. Go ahead. Our great chief does not stand on ceremony. You may enter his yurt, if you are clean and courteous."

I chuckled inside, these Zainab were very ‘oh, is that so?’ about the whole matter of the Nerevarine. And the praise they lavished upon their Ashkhan, well, I did not agree with them. Sul-Matuul was by far one of the greatest Ashkhan and men I knew, if it came down to a challenge, I would be more than willing to act as a Champion of the Urshilaku….

Nonetheless, I entered into the Ashkhan’s Yurt, and kneeled before the Mer.

“So. You are Sethyas Velas. The outlander who claims to fulfill the Nerevarine prophecies. You are welcome to our hospitality, outlander. But you must tell us... how can an outlander be the Nerevarine?"

‘Is my Great Ashkhan aware of the prophecies?” I asked humbly.

"Yes. We know of the prophecies. We know there are many prophecies, all of them mysterious and obscure. Our wise woman, Sonummu Zabamat, has told her chief all about these prophecies, and given her interpretations. 'A certain day to uncertain parents.' 'The Curse-of-Flesh before him flies.' 'In caverns dark Azura's eye sees, and makes to shine the moon and star.' Standard prophet-talk. Voices and verses. Very interesting. But... true? Who can tell."

“I have united all the houses, and now come to the tribes, to unite them in the battle against Dagoth Ur.’

"We have heard the rumors. We know you to be the outlander who claims to fulfill the Nerevarine prophecies. But teach us, Sethyas... how could an outlander be the Nerevarine?"

I told him my story, showed my proofs, and asked to be named the Nerevarine.
"Ho, ho! Excuse me. Do not think me rude. But seriously. Do you believe this story yourself? I mean no offense, but you must admit, you are an outlander, and completely ignorant of our ways. How could you ever be our war leader? What sensible ashkhan would ever choose you to lead the tribes? Ho, ho."

I stood up, with a deathly serious look in my eyes. The Ashkhan gulped, knowing that he had perhaps offended me.

“Then set me a task to prove my worth, I am no stranger to harrowing.”

Kaushad rubbed the front of his shirt, his swagger returning to him.

"Very well. A vampire named Calvario has taken refuge in nearby Nerano Ancestral Tomb. If you are as worthy as you say you are, it should be a small matter for you to dispose of this vampire. There. You have your task. Now perhaps you would leave me in peace for a bit?"

“In a moment, Ashkhan. Speak to me a bit more of this….Vampire? I thought there were no Vampires in Vvardenfell! And you know his name…’


"Calvario was an Adventurer whom poked his nose where he shouldn’tve and now he’s a Vampire. A young one, but quite dangerous, of course. As I'm sure an adventurer of your wide experience would know. Probably driven out of his lair by older, more powerful vampires. I would never offer advice to someone of your reputation. But perhaps a visit to the potionmakers and enchanters of Tel Vos and Tel Mora might be in order. I don't use them myself, but they say potions and scrolls can be quite handy in a tight spot."

"Vampires are monsters that feed on humanoid blood. Once they were human like you and me, but they get the blood disease from another vampire, and they become vampires themselves. That's why they still exist. Everyone hates them, yet no one wants to come near one. But doesn't prophecy say the Nerevarine has nothing to fear from disease? So you have nothing to worry about, I'm sure."

“That seems to be true, so far. I haven’t come down with anything lately…” I pondered. “Regardless, where will I find the Nerano Tomb?”

"Nerano Ancestral Tomb is to the north. But you are a stranger, and may get lost. Listen. Go west from our camp until you reach the mountains, then turn north and follow the mountains, keeping them on your left. When you pass the ruins of Nchuleft, keep your eyes to the east, looking for an entrance flanked by two trees on the western slope of a hill in the center of the Grazelands. That will be Nerano Ancestral Tomb."

I left him, and gave him his measure of peace as I proceeded directly to the Tomb following the instructions he had given me, arriving to the two trees that marked the entrance, and I proceeded in quietly.

Walking around slowly, the outside areas of the Tomb were littered with bodies, the Vampires recent feedings? No…these bodies had no bite marks, no signs of blood being drained. They were perhaps adventurers much like me, but there was a strange note that one had on their person along with a key that had “Indaren” inscribed into it.

Moris,

You boys better clear out. Our position was given away and we were raided by that honoured user Goris. He sent a small band of the dead to Dralas and wiped out all but Luven. He was able to make it back here to Nelas to warn us. We are clearing out and heading for a new location. I suggest you and your boys get out of there as soon as possible. We have a snitch in our organisation. You let me find out who it is and I'll feed their flesh to the crabs. It seems as though he knows all of our raiding routes. It's just a matter of time before Goris sends them damned and dead your way. I'll never turn those goods over to that necro. What's fair is fair and he had to pay up. You know where I'm coming from. I'm sending Ursine to deliver this message to you. She will deliver a key so you can gain entry into the rendezvous point. See you soon and good luck brother.

Bakarak

So, they were grave robbers that were betrayed by a necromancer named ‘Goris’, a sad fate, but…I had seen an Indaren Ancestral Tomb north of here, right at the foot of the Daedric Shrine of Zergonipal while questing for the Third Trial. As a matter of fact, it was quite close to here….but the Vampire came first.

Proceeding in deeper, I slowly creaked open a door into the burial room, and beheld my first Vampire. He dressed as a gentleman would, in expensive clothing, with the hair and mannerisms to match. But, the face had a gaunt pallor that matched the pupil-less eyes that beheld me. His fangs popped out as a faint hiss escaped from the bowels of his lips.

He was hungry, and I was the main course it would seem. And he seemed to simply disappear from where he stood and reappeared in front of me, and we both fell back as his fangs sunk deeply into my neck. I was stunned not from the fact that Calvario was feeding on me, but rather that I had never seen anything move with such speed. Even to one whom is used to quick movements like I.

As I finally returned to my senses, and realized that the creature was grunting and biting on me with a voracious glee, I decided to use a Vampiric trick of my own, and the Black Hands Dagger found its way into his ribs, and with a shriek of pain, the creature jumped with that mesmerizing speed off of me, and stood against the wall.

The voice came out as a horrible distortion of what was once a man. “What did you do to me?” As he saw the wound on my neck closing, and I felt the life return once more to my body.

“All’s fair in love and war, Vampire. You wanted to drink my lifeblood, I’m merely returning the favor.” I replied as he collapsed back into death once more. I made a quick potion to cure common disease with some muck and willow anther I had handy, even though I was immune to disease, I wanted to be sure that I wouldn’t end up like this creature.

I took the Vampire Dust off the remains as proof to Kaushad of my completion of his task, and then set off to the north before I returned to the camp to investigate this necromancer betraying grave robbers business.

Perhaps half an hour later, I arrived to the opened entrance of the Indaren Ancestral Tomb, and slowly creeped my way inside, seeing if there was a necromancer attacking or raiding the tomb.

Instead I found a sight very similar to the one I had just seen, a large group of grave robbers laid slain covered in scratches and magicka burns. I examined there remains for another clue as to what was going on here.

And at the dead hand of one I found yet another scroll.

Brother,

I fear by the time you get this writing, I will have been accepted into the hands of death. I am glad you are not here for the onslaught. We are outnumbered, five undead to a man. I don't know how they got in! We swept the halls of this house of the dead, then we locked up. We were alone. Just myself, Pegasai, Jonis, and Luven. As soon as we saw the first wave, it appeared from behind! I have no idea how they were able to surprise us. It's as if they were appearing out of nowhere. Summoned to this position somehow. We fought long and hard, until we could barely hold our weapons up anymore. Jonis was the first one to get cut down. Brother, our longtime friend Jonis, died in front of me in the most horrible way. But do know, he died with the honor of a fighting man. This battle will not be won. Pegasai urged me deeper into the tomb. I saw not Luven, but heard his dying scream come from somewhere within the tomb. I am taking refuge in this main burial chamber. I am here with our due payment from Goris. He will not get it from my living hands. I will hold up until Pegasai comes for me, or until those cursed bonewalkers come to finish me off.

We committed ourselves to aiding Goris in a task, putting our butts on the line, and he promised payment. I'll be damned if he is going to take it back! Brother, if you make it here and find nothing more than my corpse, I hope you can make some sense out of my final letter to you. Avenge your Brother, and your trusting colleagues so that our souls may lay in peace. Goris can be found in a tomb in Tel Mora. We loot and hideout in the occasional tomb, but that sick fool lives in a tomb with his deader companions. Without his knowledge, I forged a key that fits his tomb entry. Use it to gain entry to his lair. Goris should not, and cannot, get the last action. He betrayed us and used us. Avenge my Brother. Avenge!

Live long and may you always be in good health,
Tyronius

And on his person, this man the note named as Tyronius, was another key with the word ‘Venim’ inscribed into it. Venim? Archmaster Venim? No, it was simply coincidence, there were many Dunmer that had that name on Vvardenfell. So this was a key for the Venim Ancestral Tomb. Where had I seen that before?

The answer left me dumbstruck. The tomb was just north of the Zainab Camp! I had passed it right as that Dunmer Woman beckoned me to come closer to her. Strange, I didn’t expect him to be so close. But…would I be willing to take on the cause of avenging grave robbers? I was not so different from these thieves, and I had no love for Necromancers, indeed, the writ for Tirer Belvayn was against a Necromancer.

Running back to the Camp, I entered the tomb only to find a door so well locked that it would have taken me hours to pick it, even with high-quality picks. I slid in the key that was on Tyronius, and the tumblers moved easily. Twisting the knob, the door opened into the shadowy rooms of the Tomb.

Deeper inside, after using the key on three more equally well locked doors, I could hear the voice of a Dunmer and an Imperial toasting over a great success. Slipping unseen into their room inside the main burial chamber.

“Your betrayal has served me well, and now the Bow is mine once more. Excellent work, Luven.” Said the Dunmer, clinking his glass.

“A pleasure to help the winning side, Maggot King.” Luven laughed.

Luven. That was the member of the raiding party that supposedly ‘died’ in the Indaren Tomb according to Tyronius’ note. Not so apparently.,..

I loaded the Dwemer Crossbow, and aimed carefully at the Imperials head.

“Tyronius says hi.” I said as his head snapped to me in surprise, followed by a silver bolt lodging itself into his eye socket.

The Dunmer however, like any competent Necromancer, went about a summoning spell. I hit him in the side of the head with the empty crossbow, blood pouring down the side of his face, and then the gleam of Mehrunes’ Razor surfaced from my robes, the blade sheathing itself into his neck.

It was done. The Grave Robbers were avenged, and the Necromancer would not threaten the Zainab any longer. My work was done, and I began to leave.

But something stopped me. The shadows themselves seemed to hum with an otherwordly presence, not spirits or ghosts, just,….something. I looked carefully around the tomb, and remembered the Goris had said something about a ‘Bow’ being back in his possession, something that was worth killing all these people for….

There it was, lying on a makeshift desk, a Bow unlike anything I had ever seen, so beautifully crafted that I doubted its authenticity, but the smooth silver lengths and the gold trimmed shaft left little doubt.

This was the Bow of Shadows. I lifted the piece of art off, and the power this artifact possessed sang into my soul it seemed, for at will, the Bow can render its user invisible, and grant fleetness of foot, a favorite of Assassins for centuries, the Bow had claimed lives innumerable from afar and unseen. It seemed that the Bow had a soul or mind, and it seemed to examine me, as I examined it, and we both grew satisfied with each other as I drew the string back to test the pull and strength. This bow even surpassed my Dwemer Crossbow.

Another weapon to my arsenal, I returned to Ashkhan Kaushad.

"Well. So you killed the vampire Calvario? Ahem. Well. I will be happy to acknowledge you as Zainab Nerevarine. But... it is customary for one seeking an honor from the Ashkhan to offer the Ashkhan a generous gift as a mark of respect. Because you are an outlander, and do not know our customs, I will do you the great favor of naming the gift I wish to receive -- a high-born Telvanni bride -- a pretty one, plump, with big hips to bring me many sons."

I began to protest, but stammered at his request, I’m to be a match-maker now? This was getting ridiculous, but the old fool continued on, oblivious that he had basically asked a scrib to get a kagouti and dreugh to mate.

"Where will you find a high-born Telvanni bride? That is simple. You should visit high-born Telvanni lords and inform them that Ashkhan Kaushad of the Lordly Zainab would do them the honor of making their daughter his bride. Surely many Telvanni lords would be honored to receive such an offer. Consider carefully the many daughters offered and choose for me the finest. Take counsel with my wise woman, Sonummu Zabamat. She knows my mind well in such matters."

I stood there for several seconds fuming inside, and staring up at his bamboo wind chimes.

“Right.” I said as I stormed outside of his Yurt.

I fumed walking through the Grazelands back north, I was in no mood for stealth, and I made short work of many scaly and annoying grazeland creatures with my new Bow, venting my frustration with each twang of the powerful artifact.

I was going to see Master Aryon, if anyone could at least point me in the right direction for a Telvanni Bride it would be him, though even I knew that the idea was laughable….very laughable as I would soon find out.

“What brings the Telvanni Hortator here?” Aryon said cordially.

“I need a Telvanni Bride…” I said directly.

He raised an eyebrow. “For yourself? I’m afraid I don’t understand completely….”

I told him the story behind my reason for being there.

"Hmm. Well. No one can say you are too conventional. No. On careful reflection, I believe that a marriage of a Telvanni noble to an Ashlander ashkhan is impossible for all known definitions of possible. [Chuckle.] Sorry. Didn't mean to... [Chuckle.] Well.... You must admit, it does sound a rather silly idea, doesn't it?" he said breaking down into hysterics.

“Fine, fine, I get it..no Telvanni Bride for me!” I said half amused and half annoyed leaving his tower pod.

The other councilors had similar if not dangerous responses.

Dratha: “Thank you. I don't think I realized that, after a long life like mine, I might ever hear something as stupid and offensive as that. If I had, I would have prepared more carefully -- perhaps by burning you to a crisp before you could speak. I believe you will leave now."

Neloth: “That is completely stupid. Remarkably stupid. You must shut up more often."

Therana: “That's lovely, dear, but I don't think so. I have so much to do around here. Besides, I'm already married. I'm fairly sure. Avos. Or Aven. I think. Little fellow. He's around here somewhere. Some sort of magic thing. Quite funny, actually. Did I tell you? About how easy it is to get those caretellian coordinates mixed up? Oh, dear... really quite a laugh. Quite funny. Yes, indeed. Ehr.... What were we talking about?"

I sighed as I returned finally to the Zainab Tribe, prepared to report on my failure, before I remembered that Ashkhan Kaushad wanted me to speak to the Wise Woman, Sonummu Zabamat. I warily entered her tent, hoping that she would at least break the news too Kaushad.

"Kaushad wants a Telvanni bride, eh? No high-born Telvanni would wed an Ashlander…”

“I know….trust me…I know.”


“But I have a plan.” She said raising her finger into the air. “Go to my friend, Savile Imayn, slavemistress of the Festival Slave Market in Tel Aruhn, and tell her you need a pretty Dunmer slave to pose as a Telvanni lady. Then Savile Imayn will tell you what clothes to buy, and will dress her like a high-born Telvanni. Then escort the pretty slave to Zainab camp and present her to Ashkhan Kaushad as a high-born Telvanni bride. He won't know the difference."

“You want me to ‘buy’ a slave? That’s like asking a Telvanni to marry an Ashlander!!” I exclaimed.

“This is no time for your Outlandish principles, if you wish to be declared Nerevarine, I feel that this is the only way. Keep in mind, that she will not be treated as a Slave, rather, she will be treated as the Wife of our Ashkhan, from ‘rags to riches’ as the Traders say, it sounds like a good deal to whomever she may be, to me.” She reasoned.

I thought it over, and at the very least, one more slave freed from what I felt was a barbaric tradition into a better life was worth a shot.

“Fine, we’ll play it your way, Wise Woman.” I said leaving for the former Stronghold of Gothren.

“Welcome, to the Festival Slave Market, the finest slaves in Vvardenfell! I'm Savile Imayn, and I know we have the slave for you. Are you looking for standard household slaves, or are you looking for something special?"

“Something special..” I said as I told her the story so far.

"You need a slave to pose as a high-born Telvanni lady? Sweet Alma, that Sonummu Zabamat and her cunning plans.... I do have the slave you want, Falura Llervu, a pretty Dunmer girl. But first you must get an exquisite shirt, an exquisite skirt, and exquisite shoes, to dress her in. Go get these exquisite clothes and bring them to me, and then we will discuss a price for her."

“Where?” I asked

"Where can you get exquisite clothes? Tel Mora, Elegnan the Clothier -- she has some VERY nice things. See these clothes I'm wearing? Exquisite shirt? Exquisite skirt? Exquisite shoes? I bought them at her shop. Maybe you should try her. When you have the exquisite clothes, we can talk about the 'something special' you are looking for." She said modeling her clothes for me with an intricate black and gold weavings.
After a quick shopping trip to Tel Mora, and being forced to deal with a Telvanni Bosmer, I returned with the clothes to the Slavemistress.

"Good. These clothes are perfect. Hold onto them. You'll give them to her when you've bought her. But I need a little more time to coach Falura Llervu to play the part of a high-born Telvanni lady. I know just the thing we need! Go get a bottle of Telvanni Bug musk perfume! Try Bildren Areleth the Apothecary here in Tel Aruhn or Jolda the Apothecary in Tel Mora. That will make Falura Llervu completely irresistible! Go! Hurry!" she said shooing me away, with me returning moments later with the Perfume.

"You have the Telvanni Bug Musk? Excellent. No, don't give it to me. You'll give it to her when you have bought her. Now. Let me tell you my price. For this superb specimen, skillfully coached to play her part in your little scheme, I am pleased to accept from you the modest sum of 1200 drakes. And I only offer you this special price out of my friendship for Sonummu Zabamat."

“Ill pay you 600 drakes.”I said knowing well my skill in the Mercantile trade had increased substantially since my many months of adventuring and bartering in Vvardenfell.

"Sweet Alma. I hope I don't encounter another trader as sharp as you, or I'll end up paying YOU for my goods. But I'll accept your offer, and thank you for your custom. Now, here's the key to her cage. I've removed her slave bracers. When you're ready, you should speak to Falura Llervu, give her the presents -- the exquisite clothes and Telvanni Bug Musk -- and explain to her that she is to follow you back to Zainab camp to meet her future husband, Ashkhan Kaushad."

I took the key from her and opened the slave pod cage, I felt compassion for the prisoners of the Dunmer more then any other, and a Dunmer slave at that…though, she was quite attractive.

She faced down at the ground, waiting for me to speak, years of servitude had taken the pride from this girl, leaving what seemed to be an empty shell of a Dunmer.

“Falura Llervu?” I asked gently.

"Yes, sera. Falura Llervu of Velothis Haven, daughter of Andrano Llervu, lord of Tel Llervu, pleased to make your acquaintance. See? Savile Imayn has taught me well. I shall BE a high-born Telvanni lady, and no one will know the difference. Just like a lady."

“Yes. You are a lady. Never let anyone take that from you…but I must ask, how do YOU feel about all this. You are free now. I will not force or compel you to come with me. Prophecies be damned.”

"I admit, I am a little anxious about marrying an Ashlander, even an Ashlander chief, but anything is better than being a slave, and I am very tough and smart, and determined to make the best of my chances. But Savile Imayn said you wanted to give me something. Some presents...."

I handed her the change of clothing and the Telvanni Bug Musk, to which her Red Eyes opened in delight. She would never have dreamed of owning anything like this.

"Oh, sera! These clothes! They are divine! Such a perfume! Only the very rich can afford this! I shall do everything I can to please you and my new master... that is, my gracious lord and husband-to-be. Come! I am so excited, I cannot wait! Let us travel together to Zainab camp and meet this Zainab lord."

I shrugged, realizing that maybe this is what she wanted. Either way, she could choose to do what she wished with her freedom, maybe marrying Kaushad wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

“But, Sera…what did you mean by…’prophecies’ if I may ask?” she said after she had returned from changing into her new clothes, and we made our way to the port.

I gave her a cautious glance for a moment, considering it for a moment as I paid our fare and we departed for Tel Vos.

“I am the Nerevarine, Falura. But call me Sethyas.”

"You are the Nerevarine? But... you are an outlander. How can that be? Such wonders in the world. Before, I was a slave; now I am a companion of the Nerevarine and the bride of a Zainab chief." She exclaimed, the rest of the voyage and walk back was filled with her asking me questions into my adventures, filled with oohs and aahs, she particularly liked my story about my duel with Venim, and how it brought Ilmeni and I back together.

“So you two are star-crossed lovers? Fated to meet, and threatened even now by her own family, and the Devil himself beckons you to his Mount? Truly, you lead an exciting life!!” she said dreamily.

“Well, I don’t know if its all that, but, yes, you could call it ‘exciting’ which has more then one meaning…” I said as we approached the Zainab Camp, and true to his word, a Wedding Celebration was well prepared, and a cheer uproared as I arrived with Falura, music began playing on Guarskin drums and flutes, Women had Kreshweed flowers in their hair and the men had woven necklaces from wickwheat, one of which was placed around my neck, and the women placed flowers of all kinds into Falura’s hair.

With a loud grunt, the Ashkhan Kaushad had brought the festivities to a momentary pause, and with his wizened face he viewed her from a distance, until his lips curled up into a smile, and the music began once more, and the Tribe cheered.

Falura leaned in and whispered to me as Kaushad walked towards us: "He is very distinguished-looking, isn't he? A bit severe, perhaps, but the lines on his face, there, show that he likes to smile. Oh, sera. I think I will be very happy!” she squealed with delight.

Kaushad approached us, taking the hands of the beaming girl, and looking deeply into her eyes, but speaking to me.

“This is my new bride? I am very pleased with your gift, Sethyas Velas... though she is not so generous in the hips as I would like. I promise to make her a happy bride, and to do her honor as a high-born Telvanni lady. And, as I have said, I will now name you Zainab Nerevarine, War Leader of the Zainab, and Protector of the People. I must also give you the Zainab Thong, an enchanted heirloom of the tribe, which shall be a sign to all Dunmer that the Zainab have named you Nerevarine."

She raised an eyebrow with the ‘hips’ remark but knew that Kaushad was being playful, and returned the crack, through speaking to me.

"Thank you, sera. I am very pleased with Ashkhan Kaushad. He is good-looking, clever, and rich, although a bit full of himself, like all men. Thank you for being my matchmaker and benefactor, and I hope you will return to visit when I have brought many fine sons and daughters to Ashkhan Kaushad."

“I shall bring my own sons and daughters to play with them, should the Gods see fit.” I said, the music loosening my normally tight-controlled demeanor, and I joined in the drinking and revelry of the celebration and witnessed the ceremony, hours after, while I was smoking a hackle-lo to myself sitting just outside the camp, Kaushad came over stumbling to me, both of us quite drunk.

“Outlander! Do not think me such a fool. Of course I realize you have tricked me. I do not mind. In fact, I think you are very clever to hoodwink the chief of the Zainab, and I think that maybe a clever Nerevarine is not such a bad thing at all. Besides, now I am MUCH happier with this fine young woman than I would have been with a stuck-up Telvanni lady. And here is a little gift. From me. Perhaps when you wear it, you will think of Falura Llervu and me." He said handing me an Exquisite Shirt, much like the one I had bought for Falura.

“Thhhanks! Hey, you’re a good guy, Kaushad! Ya know that? I thought you were..” I slurred out.

“We should stop talking before I pass out! Besides, I have a bride to make happy, if you know what I mean Outlander! Ah-hee-hee-hee!” He said stumbling off to his yurt.

I looked off into the dark night and listened to the sounds of the insects singing to the stars, and thought to myself. “Not a bad day, all in all.”

I then turned over to heave out my guts, and passed out in the wickwheat fields.

The sensation of a rough guars tongue licking my face woke me up in the early morning hours, and the stench of its breath brought me to my feet.

“Morning to you to.” I mumbled out as I struggled to keep to my feet. Only to see Sonummu standing next to the Guar, petting its huge head.

“Wise Woman….were you watching me sleep?” I said half-awake.

“You, and the fields, wondering if the fires of Red Mountain will burn it away, or whether you will quench them.”

“I see…you have some more Counsel for me then, I take it?”

“Hah. You do not need my counsel, Nerevarine. But I will give you the words of my dream. 'When the Nerevarine goes to Red Mountain to face Dagoth Ur, he carries the hearts of his kin with him.' Whose hearts? Whose kin? Who knows? Who knows who speaks in my dreams?"

And through the smoky ashes of the dark lands of Molag Amur, ravaged nearly every step of the way by the beasts of land and air, my path led me far south of the Zainab Tribe, to the Camp of the Erabenimsun Tribe. Once before, while hunting Sarayn Sadus I had limited dealings with them. However, I was masked at the time, and I doubt that any goodwill still lasted between me and them. Still, the prophecies demanded I be declared Nerevarine by all the Houses and all the Tribes, and they remained the final faction between me and the completion of the Fifth Trial.

Remembering and heeding the advice of the wise Sul-Matuul, I did not make contact with any of the tribesman directly, and certainly did not do anything to respond to their insults and spitting at me. Though none dare to approach me, as I had my quiver of arrows with my bow quite visible, and my Katana at my side at the ready.

They were, as Sul-Matuul had said, quite despising of Outlanders. Rather, I made my way to the Wise Woman’s yurt directly. I drew my hood back, and we stared at each other for several seconds.

“Greetings, Outlander, I am Manarai, Wise Woman to the Erabenimsun Tribe. You’ll find no welcome here I’m afraid. No, don’t take offense, I simply mean that the War-Loving members of the tribe will give you none, I am of the peace-Loving Erabenimsun I will give you what little I can.”

“I thank you, Manarai. Tell me. Have you heard the rumors of the Outlander lately claiming to be the Nerevarine?”

“I have. Are you that Outlander?”

I removed my glove, and showed her the Moon-and-Star. “I am. The Erabenimsun tribe remains the final hurdle to the completion of my task, the fifth trial is almost complete, the Hortator is here, the time of the Nerevarine is nigh. What say you?”

"You wish to be named Erabenim