This contains spoilers for the Tribunal expansion. I imagine this is no longer a concern since the expansion has been out for so long but I thought it would be prudent to mention it here anyway.

Unlike "Rashelle At Lokken", this one is an in-progress work, actually being written now. As a consequence the updates won't be nearly so often.

This story occurs before the events in "Rashelle At Lokken".

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Rashelle And The Mad God
by blockhead aka pcc

Chapter 1. Dark Brotherhood


I knew it was not going to be a good day. Firstly, it was that time of the month for me and that is never a good time. Secondly, I was rudely awakened by someone who was trying to murder me in my bed.

His glass dagger had just rebounded off of my ebony cuirass. People think I'm nuts when I tell them I sleep in my armor. Situations like this are why I do.

An elbow in his face backed him off a foot or so and gave me time to give him a stiff kick in the usual place. It sent him flying away from the bed but apparently that strange black armor that he wore protected him there because he came right back at me.

I ran him through with Chrysamere. People think I'm nuts because I sleep with a naked claymore. Situations like this are why I do.

I got out of bed and searched the body. No keys. Some gold. No letters or other information. I examined the strange black armor. It was rather nice. I had never seen its like before, very light and flexible, yet tough. The deep blackness of it would certainly help any night-time stealthy activities. It was probably expensive as well.

If it were not for the fact that I don't like my sleep to be interrupted, I would welcome more attacks just for more of this armor.

I removed my boots and I tried the greaves on. They were especially nice. They went well with my Ebony cuirass yet were not hot like most armor is. Of late I had not been wearing any armor save for a cuirass and boots: Vvardenfell was just too hot to wear full armor. I was never cold; only warm or hot. I'm a Breton but there must have been Nord in my ancestry somehow.

I left the greaves on. I put my ebony boots back on. I went to the trap door and poked my head out. It was still dark out but I was too keyed up to go back to sleep.

I closed trap door and got myself ready to go.

Taking the helm and the body, I left my house.

A Hlallu guard approached me immediately. After playing 20 questions he eventually realized that I had been attacked, had lawfully defended myself and was only trying to dispose of the body.

"Couldn't you have waited until you left town before stripping it?"

"It's not every day I get attacked in my own bed. I was not aware there was a protocol involved."

Showing him the helm, I said; "By the way, you wouldn't happen to know who wears armor like this and likes to murder Bretons in their bed, would you?"

He informed me that the helm was that of the Dark Brotherhood. They were assassins. Apparently someone had put a contract out on me. Unlike the Morag Tong, the dark brotherhood would take any contract. They will kill anyone if the drakes were good: legality was not a concern.

He told me that Apelles Matius over in Ebonheart might know more about them. I thanked him and he retreated at speed: as if the dark brotherhood would slay him just for talking to me.

Not a great start to my day. I dumped the body just south of town and then went to the Mages Guild.

"Greetings, Rashelle, what brings you here at this odd hour?", said the Sharn Gra-Muzgob, who was manning the entrance as Greeter this shift.

"Hey Sharn. Nothing much: just a Dark Brotherhood assassin trying to murder me in my sleep."

"That's terrible - you killed him I trust?"

"Yes indeed."

"I trust you disposed of the body?"

"Yes; just now I dragged it south of town."

"Just now you did?"

"Yep."

She turned from me and summoned Galbedir, asking her to cover for her for "a few minutes". Then she scurried outside as fast she could.

Galbedir and I laughed: we both knew she was a necromancer.

I went downstairs and had them teleport me to Vivec. Once there, a cast of Divine intervention teleported me to the Imperial Cult chapel in Ebonheart. From there, it was a short walk to find Apelles Matius.

He initially seemed to doubt me but I showed him the helm and then he remembered that I was the Nerevarine and had some skill in matters pertaining to combat.

He revealed two interesting bits if information. First; the Dark Brotherhood headquarters was somewhere on the mainland, in the city of Mournhold. Secondly, despite the quarantine still in place around Vvardenfell from the Blight, a recently arrived Imperial Mage named Asciene Rane could teleport me there.

He led me to her and, after introductions, explained the situation to her. I thanked him and he left. She then teleported me to Mournhold.

I appeared in a blue room. There were flowers in the room; how did they grow indoors without sunlight? I turned and found myself face to face with an Argonian in expensive robes.

He sniffed and said "fresh game."

he continued. "Greetings, I am Effe Tei. I can teleport you to Ebonheart. You are in the Palace now, in the reception area."

"Thank you, I am Rashelle."

Effe Tei briefly explained the layout of Mournhold. The city was a circle, with the Palace in the center. The remainder of the circle was divided into four sections. The temple was to the south, the plaza Brindisi Dorom to the north. West and East were the Great Bazaar and the Godsreach areas.

Effe informed me that the city was actually built on top of the ruins of the the older city, some of which were accessible underground.

The goddess Amalexia resided in this city, as did the dunmer King Helseth.

In an alarmed tone he asked me; "Are you wearing greaves of the Dark Brotherhood?"

Perhaps wearing the armor of the Dark Brotherhood had been a bad idea.

"These? Oh no; don't be silly! These are padded Capri pants. They are all the rage over on Tel Aruhn. When I wear boots they are more comfortable. When I don't wear boots they let a lot of calf show."

I chatted briefly with a royal guard. His closed helm and closed mannerisms made conversation difficult and brief.

I decided to wander around the castle before going outside. I took the open doorway out of the room and soon found myself with a choice, stairs down or up. Thinking of dungeons, my natural instinct was to choose the down stairwell.

This resulted in my arrival at the Royal Palace basement.

Oddly enough, there were no guards here. I poked through some of the crates and other containers. I was tempted to pinch some salt rice but I refrained.

I found a trap door in the floor. Effe had said something about the Dark Brotherhood in the sewers below the Great Bazaar, not the palace, but I opened the door anyway.

I started to descend the cold slimy rungs of a ladder. I was in a large high hall. Along the center of the hall ran a channel with water in it. The air was moist and the scent wafting along it let me know that these were the sewers.

I paused, gripping the ladder, while my eyes adjusted to the darkness. There were torches here and there and some sort of undefined dim illumination. This area was as large as the Vivec canton sewers but, like everything else in Mournhold, was more ornate than its Vvardenfell counterpart.

A skeleton was running towards the ladder. With one hand I cast a fireball. Most undead are susceptible to fire so that was enough to take care of it.

I descended the rest of the way and stepped away from the latter.

To my right was a dead end. I turned left. The floor was tiled with maroon tiles that formed pretty patterns. Why waste time decorating a sewer?

A rat attacked me. I believe he hurt his teeth on my ebony boots. I simply stared down at him as if to say "who are you kidding?". He sheepishly squeaked and ran away.

Then I saw a skeleton in a hooded robe. That was new. It cast a lightning spell. My birth sign didn't handle it this time. It hurt but I was not in immediate danger so I waited. I wanted to assess the capabilities of this new creature.

The robed skeleton cast another one. And another. How much magicka did this thing have?

I was hurting now. Enough is enough. I quaffed a potion and cast a fireball. The robed skeleton hit me with a health damage spell but this time my birth sign diffused the spell and absorbed the magicka. I promptly used this to cast a larger fireball.

Robes burning, the skeleton collapsed to the ground. Pieces of bone fell into the water.

A memory from my magical studies came to me: I had just fought a lich.

I walked over and examined the lich. It was simply an animated skeleton with a robe, an iron longsword, and an iron shield. The most formidable thing about it had been the large reservoir of magicka.

I resumed walking. The sewer corridor turned to the left and entered a very large room. It was easily larger than a plaza in a Vivec canton, larger than a small village. In the center was a circle of pillars that reached all the way to the ceiling. Inside this was a deeper pool of water. Perhaps this drained into a lower level of sewers.

A goblin ran towards me. I had never encountered a goblin before but I had seen pictures of them in books.

He was a tough critter and he wielded a club that was sturdier than it looked.

As I was finishing him, a durzog attacked me. Again, I had not seen a durzog in Vvardenfell but I knew of them. Goblins often used durzogs as mounts and war beasts. Wherever you encountered one, you tended to also run into the other.

Getting tired of the water, I took an upward ramp out of that large room. This soon led me to a door labeled "Bazaar sewers". How convenient: this is where Effe said the Dark Brotherhood were located.

So I was now in the Bazaar Sewers of Old Mournhold. Ahead of me, the wide and tall passage continued and then curved left. From this came a bonewalker, already hurling Grave Curse spells at me. Another fireball finished him.

To my right was a second passage. I went right.

This passage turned left and down. At the turning was a Khajiit woman. An attempt at conversation yielded only "Ahnia does not know you, so Ahnia has nothing to say to you."

Perhaps the sewers were filled with madmen? I continued on down the passage. The ramp took me back down to the water level. Have I mentioned yet how much I hate water?

There was a ladder going up but I passed it for now. The next section of the passage was smaller and hewn from rock: no pretty tiles here.

I swam, following the passage as it turned left and down. I dove because I thought I saw something there on the bottom. I did: a skeleton who had apparently been slain by an arrow. There was a water breathing potion by the skeleton. The passage was a dead end so, swimming as rapidly as I could as I was running out of breath, I retraced my route.

I returned to the ladder, this time I ascended it.

I found myself on the surface, outdoors, somewhere in Mournhold. The morning sunlight shown on a rich array of blue architecture. Another reminder that I wasn't in Vvardenfell anymore.

While I had urgent business to attend to, regarding the Black brotherhood's misguided attempts to adjust my lifespan, I just could not resist the temptation to wander around here for a bit before returning to the depths.

Vvardenfell is a frontier. This was a city, a major center of government and commerce, and it showed. Everything had a polished and expensive look to it.

I walked around, chatting with people, even the ordinators. Ordinators are never chatty but I try to talk to them anyway. These Ordinators wore a different style of armor from the ones back in Vivec. The helm was the same but not yellow. The color was pastel violet instead. As with everything else in Mournhold, their armor was classier and snazzier than the Vvardenfell version. I was informed that I was in the Great Bazaar.

At some point I found a book store. It was with difficultly that I pulled myself out of there, a few hundred gold poorer.

I heard what sounded like a summoning spell. When one summons an atronach or other daedra, there is a certain characteristic sound. I turned towards the sound and saw two bursts of fog or smoke. The smoke fade away to be replaced by a Dunmer in a robe.

"Greetings, fair citizens of Mournhold. I am the great, renowned, respected, and feared wizard, Ovis Velas! In the coming weeks you shall see more and more of me, as I bring this city to its knees."

This didn't sound very promising. He had the attention of the people around me. I hoped this was some sort of advertisement for a sporting event but I didn't think so. I had a fireball ready and I placed a hand on my head, casually, as if patting my hair into place ... near the hilt of the sheathed sword at my back.

"But for the moment, " he continued, "allow me to demonstrate my power on one of your hapless countrymen."

He looked right at me. Figures. Always pick on the Breton with the black hair and the armor.

"You there! Yes, you, you ugly Breton, Prepare yourself to feel my wrath!"

He hit me with a fireball. I could have dodged it but I didn't want it to hurt anyone in the crowd so I just took it. My birth-sign didn't absorb the spell this time.

Already running towards him, I let fly my own fireball and drew my sword.

He hit me with a cold spell: standard technique: fatigue the target by alternating fire and frost. My birth-sign didn't absorb this spell either but I have always had this unusual Nord-like affinity to cold: the spell was a refreshing cool breeze.

I reached him and swung. He moved partially out of the way but he was not moving very fast so Chrysamere still bit.

He stumbled but still hit me with a nasty shock-bolt. This time my birth-sign absorbed and diffused the spell.

Enough: I stabbed him right through the heart. He had no armor under the robe.

As I kicked the corpse from my sword I mused that any chance of the Dark Brotherhood not being aware of me here on their home turf had just gone to zero.

I cast a healing spell on myself.

The hubbub of the crowd that had formed was cut through by an Ordinator rasping, "Nothing to see here, move along."

I walked away. I had lawfully defended myself so the Ordinators gave me no trouble.

A dunmer who introduced himself as Drathhas Reyes said to me "For all of his talk, you didn't seem to have much trouble dealing with him. Seems strange he was so weak."

He had a point there.

"You know, there is a Velas manor in Godsreach. Perhaps checking it out would shed some needed light on this mystery."

Yeah whatever, but I didn't say that. I nodded and walked on.

Back to the sewers: I now had to find the Dark Brotherhood before they found me. I descended, stepped off the ladder. I killed a rat and passed by the unfriendly Khajiit woman again.




EDIT: went a little too Conan (and not even good original Howard Conan, but Marvel-style Conan) for the next bit so I've taken it out for more editing. Also minor word usage & "flow" edits

A good start to this story blockhead. Right away we get right back into Rashelle's head with her sacarstic remarks. Excellent work.

yesssssssss.....my preciousssssss....*clap* *clap* More stories about Rashelle! She´s so great! Ha, I wish she had met with Trey in those creepy sewers of Mournhold. They would have got very well on together,,....

Nice Blockie....More please??

Hmm, you're sure going fast here. Rashelle's only just arrived and already she's racing at top speed through the sewers. Heh, the DB had better watch out. A Breton is in town, and Chrysamere is not for show!

I really liked the bit with the padded Capri pants.

Wow, quite a long post there huh? Very nice though, I especially like the begining. Poor Rashelle, wait, hold that thought... Should I be saying "Awww, Poor Dark Brotherhood assassin," instead? You do have to feel sorry for the guy after all. Anyway .

This is actually how it happened when I first played Tribunal: arriving and almost immediately stumbling into the palace dungeons.

I hope the pace isn't too fast. I don't mean it to be but I do seem to have a terse style. I also sometimes have trouble judging time in stories because I write so slow and read so fast: it's hard to establish "real time".

I think I originally did the Tribunal main quest and a good chunk of the sidequests in under a week so I don't think of it as a long story. I remember it being only about twice as long to play than the Lokken main quest. This fanfic is not going to be anywere near as long as Treydog's Tribunal story (which I am in the middle of reading now).

So I had some trouble writing this ... essentially not the "nice" Rashelle you may have gotten used to ... but hey, these people are trying to kill her.


--
I turned right at the branching and followed the curve.

After a time the ornate sewer corridor changed to a cave. The cave narrowed and I followed. In a turning I encountered another lich. Their ability to cast spell after spell after spell was beginning to really annoy me. I rushed forward faster than it could back away and just hacked at it until it was no more.

The cave passage opened up into a larger chamber with a lich and two skeletons. I handled them. This passage had two ways out. I chose the left-hand one for several reasons. One, it was an old habit of mine: dungeons with traps are usually designed for right-handed people. People, facing a branching, will unconsciously take the rightmost passage. I've saved a lot of time and gained surprise many a time by turning left. Secondly, the left passage went downward. I somehow felt that the dark brotherhood would locate themselves in the lowest depths of this complex.

It's just too bad the passage had water. With distaste I waded, then swam, along.

Mercifully, the passage rose up out of the water, turning left.

I reached a join with more sewer. Once again I walked on the fancy and pretty tiles of the sewer floor.

Some more rats attacked me. I sliced them and continued.

The passage turned right, then after a time right again.

The passage rose and revealed a lone Dunmer woman. I hailed her and approached with caution. She seemed distraught and not inclined to attack me so as I walked closer I sheathed my sword.

"Beware the Black Dart gang, adventurer. They've robbed me of everything I hold dear."

My only reply was to raise an eyebrow. I find the less I speak, the more other people speak.

"They ambushed my lover and I in the Temple Sewers. Variner held them off while I ran. When I turned to look back, Variner was down."

Presumably Variner was her lover.

She sobbed, "I j-j-just kept running."

She paused and continued. "Now Variner's ghost comes to me at night, begging me to come to him, to rescue him. he says he has a message for me ... but I can't go down there, I just can't!

"I can't face the Black Dart Gang. Variner was a great fighter, but with one dart, he was dead in seconds. They would kill me for sure.

"If you see Variner's ghost, please don't harm him. If you can, listen to him and see if he has a message for me."

I nodded. I'm was not sure how I would identify one ghost from another as they never wear name tags but I felt bad for this woman. If I could find Variner in my travels, I would do as she asked.

I wonder if this Black Dart Gang was in any way related to the Dark Brotherhood. I asked her and she said:

"They dress like beggars, not in armor. Yet they have those darts that must be expensive. I don't know."

I nodded again and took my leave of her.

A door not far from her was inscribed "Old Mournhold Manor District". I took it.

The sewer entered into a cave.

I had only walked a short distance in cavern when two dark brotherhood ran towards me. A slash to the left and to the right and they were both stilled. I advanced and the cave bent to the right then to the left. Two more of the Dark Brotherhood rushed towards me. I broiled one with a fireball and decapitated the other one.

The cave widened. More came at me. They met the same fate as the others. I felt no remorse. They wanted to kill me. They had already tried. When man is is trying to kill you, there is only one way to protect yourself: kill him first.

It had become apparent that the members of the Dark Brotherhood had grown over-used to stealthy sneak attacks; poisoned food or daggers from behind. Direct frontal assault they were not prepared for or used to.

The wider cave passage entered into a huge cavern, but near the ceiling. I looked down and saw that the floor was at least 100 feet below where I stood. There were partially covered ruins of several houses ... manors, since this was the manor district.

Many members of the Dark Brotherhood were down there, scurrying about. they looked like ants. They were shouting: I'd been spotted already.

I did something unexpected, satisfying and quite effective: I cast a large fireball downwards. This had the the intended effect of taking out many of them, from a distance, all at once. It also had a surprising side effect: the survivors began to run into each other and stumble. They behaved as if I had blinded them.

I stood, looking down, trying to figure this out. From a passage on my right, at my height, two of them appeared and ran towards me. I hit the near one with a fireball. The one behind him lost his footing, screamed and fell the entire hundred plus feet down.

Since when does a common fireball spell blind people?

Perhaps ... since they spent all of their time underground or making assassinations at night, they were no longer used to bright light?

I jumped the 100 feet or more down, casting slowfall a few seconds before impact.

I was now in their midst and it was the last thing they expected. I cast a light spell, dazzling them again. Swinging Chrysamere in long arcs I got down to business.

Silently, coldly, swiftly, I killed and killed again. No quarter was asked and none given. They used poison blades, they used jinkblades. I dodged, I swung, I occasionally took potions. The longer reach of my claymore kept them away where the shorter reach of their short-blades worked against them.

I hacked, I slashed, I burned. The enchantments on their weapons fueled my magicka and I cast a seemingly unending barrage of fire. I tore though their ranks like a Fury.

The few times when a paralysis spell actually took hold, it didn't last long enough for them to do significant damage. Say what you want about birth-signs, but I am thankful every day that I was born under the Atronach.

I went into neighboring caves. There were more Dark Brotherhood there. With flashes of light and balls of fire I brought the battle to them.

I went into each manor. The slaughter continued. They had tried to kill me. Now they would never be able to.

My blade had become so dull that I had begun to use it as a club. I grabbed an adamantium short sword from a body. I had never seen adamantium before but like any adventurer I had heard about it. I knew of its properties and its rarity and value. Armed with a fresh blade, I continued with the carnage.

In one the the manors I found the clue. The clue was in the form of a man. His armor was Dark Brotherhood, yet had markings on it; some sort of insignia. None of the others had worn anything with that. It seemed logical that this man was the leader of the Dark brotherhood.

I disarmed him. He would be made to talk.

Alas, he had other plans. A bright green mist issued from his mouth He said "tell my liege, I have failed."

He fell and was limp. I kicked him and hissed, "Screw your liege, n'wah! Talk!"

But he was dead.

Damnit.

I searched the body and found a single sheet of parchment. It was a contract for my death. It mentioned me by name: what the oblivion? They were to kill me for a client identified only as "H". I found no other information.

I took a breather and sharpened Chrysamere. I burned the contract.

After placing the helm with the insignia in my pack, I departed from the manor. I was tired but I kept looking for surviving Dark Brotherhood in nearby caves and in other buildings. There were not many left, but I believe I eventually found them all.

I resolved to make some restore fatigue potions at some point in the future: I could have used some.

Wearily I began the trek to the surface. Despite a good sense of direction I got lost. I didn't mind because I found a pair of adamantium boots.

Eventually it occurred to my fatigued mind that I could cast Recall. This took me back to my house in Balmora. I collapsed on my bed and slept like the dead.

Who wouldn't be tired after all that slaughtering? Swinging a claymore like Chyrasmere would most definitely be tiring. I do have to say that burning that contract seems like an odd thing to do. Personally I would hang onto it so that I had evidence to confront someone with it. Of course, when "H" is the only indication of the contract issuer, the proof isn't that solid.

All and all, a good update.

Chapter 2. Goblins



I awoke.

The first order of business was a bath. I grabbed two pails and made several trips to and from the Odai river. I noticed that it was late in the afternoon.

I suppose if I actually lived in my stronghold up in Bal Isra I could have my staff fetch the water and prepare the bath for me, but I had grown used to my place in Balmora. It was well connected since the silt strider and the Mage's Guild were close by. I also liked living by myself.

Back in my house, I cast a few fireballs to quickly heat the water. I grabbed the soap and sank into the tub. This was much a better start to the day then I had had yesterday. My mind remained empty for a time and I just enjoyed the sensation of the hot water as I scrubbed.

Eventually my peaceful mood ended and my mind went back to business. The dark brotherhood had been given that contract to kill me. They were no longer a problem ... but they had been contracted by some other party, a mysterious "H". What was to stop "H" from trying again, using some other means?

I would need to track down this H and somehow get him, or her, to change their mind.

I recalled the dying words of the former leader of the Dark Brotherhood; he had used the term "liege". This implied a monarch, a king. The only king anywhere near these parts was the one ... in Mournhold: king Helseth with an "H".

That was madness. Why the oblivion would some Dunmer king all the way down in Mournhold want to kill me? Could it be related to the fact that I was high ranking member of House Redoran, Hortator and Nerevarine?

It still failed to make sense. House Wars used the Morag tong for assassinations. I could think of no one alive who had a reason to kill me simply for being the Nerevarine.

I got out of the tub. I threw my armor in the tub and then scrubbed that as well.

I sighed as I got dressed. It seemed that I would have to go back to Mournhold to figure out the situation. On the positive side, the red river seemed to have stopped running.

I had depleted my stock of health restoration potions. From the ingredients stored at my house I made several batches.

I stopped at the Mage's Guild and obtained ingredients for Restore Fatigue potions as well as for more Restore Health potions.

I then went over to the South Wall for dinner.

Perhaps the contract had been some work of misdirection, the entire thing an elaborate hoax to turn me against the king. I didn't think that anyone would suicide to preserve a hoax, unless they were entirely insane.

As I ate, I realized an odd thing about my sewer explorations in Mournhold: the goblins. Goblins are only found in certain areas ... usually mountains, away from large settlements ... not in the sewers below a major city. There was definitely something fishy going on in Mournhold,

After dinner I used the Mage's Guild teleport system to go to Sadrith Mora and then later to Caldera for more ingredients. I was looking for, and found, ingredients necessary for chameleon potions. I wanted to make enough so that, if needed, I could "stack" them them and achieve complete invisibility for minutes at time: perfect to sneak past a palace full of guards. This was not yet my definite plan but but I could see that I might have need to.

Upon returning to my house, I made the rest of the potions.

I had only been awake a few hours but I desired to keep a sleep schedule conforming to the actual time so I retired for the night. It was not at all difficult to fall asleep.

The next morning I returned to Mournhold.

I decided to head for the temple. I suppose I could have cast an Almsivi Intervention direct from the castle reception area, but I wanted to walk the actual distance. This was a form of procrastination, and it also allowed me to learn more of the layout of the city.

The Temple area, like everything else in Mournhold, was impressive looking and much more colorful than its counterpart in Vvardenfell.

I strode along the paved walk, admiring the trees and the landscaping.

A Bosmer approached me and introduced himself as Gaener.

"Gay Nor?"

He looked at me strangely and replied; "Gaenor, g-a-e-n-o-r".

He explained that he was down on his luck and could I spare a drake?

Now I tend to not like Bosmer males. I'm not sure if it is their annoying voices or what, but I gave him a drake anyway.

"Say, you look like you've been successful in your adventures. If I could get some starting cash I could get myself established, start a business, you know. Could you spare 100 drakes?"

I gave it to him. I don't know why I did.

"Thanks! You won't regret this."

Why is it that whenever someone says that ... I end up regretting it?

"Say, I could really get a nice business going right away with a thousand."

"Enough, sera. My charity has limits. I know entire communities that would live for a year on what I have already given you. You have over a 100 now; spend it wisely."

I gave him that Look: the one that normally shuts people up and reminds them that they have business elsewhere. My eyes can normally kill a conversation in an instant. They had no effect on the little twerp.

"No! Give me 1000! You can afford it, you cheap fetcher!"

He was shouting. We had the attention of the Ordinators now. I didn't want this to get ugly.

I said "Good day to you, sera," and walked away.

"You haven't seen the last of me, Breton. You will rue the day!"

I smiled. No one says "rue the day" anymore.

As I ascended the steps leading towards the entrance to the temple, I wondered if all the beggars were mad in Mournhold.

I entered the temple. I found myself in a room, blue as the palace had been. They must have used the same contractor.

There were people milling about, including some Ordinators and an older-looking Dunmer woman who was dusting the furniture. My attention was drawn to a Dunmer in robes that failed to conceal the armor underneath. A scar across his face and something about the way his eyes immediately rested on me made me suspect that this was someone who was no stranger to combat. He was not just a priest.

Curiosity made me approach him. Before I could speak he said, "The Nerevarine, here in Mournhold. Interesting."

I raised an eyebrow.

"I am Fedris Hler, steward of the temple here in Mournhold."

I nodded. Effe had mentioned his name but had not described him. He was the mer I wanted to see.

I dug out the Dark brotherhood helm from my pack and offered it to him.

He examined it and raised an eyebrow.

"Interesting insignia on it."

I remembered a rumor that Hler had been an assassin. If this were true, then he knew whose helm that had been.

"Most impressive," he said as he handed it back to me, "and it indicates you could be of service to Our Lady in another, possibly related, problem."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Recently, Goblins have appeared under Mournhold."

I nodded. I had encountered one or two already.

"As you probably are aware, we Dunmer require no kings. We have our own council, and we have the temple, led by our living gods. We have Faith, Law, Justice ... we do not need a play king."

I failed to see the connection but I nodded anyway.

"Helseth knows this and this is devoting some of his efforts to increase and consolidate his power. My sources indicate that the new king has brought the goblins here to function as a private army."

"You have got to be ... " I stopped. That was nuts. A duke or king bringing in a private army was not an unusual thing, but to use goblins was ... madness.

"No Rashelle, I am not. There is a goblin army under our city right now. Helseth is a fool to believe that he can control them for long. They will eventually turn on him and start making raids on the surface."

He paused.

"My sources indicate that there are two goblin war chiefs. They are more intelligent than the goblin troops. If those two were to be eliminated, then the goblin army would dissipate.

"Also there are two Altmer working for Helseth down there. Those traitors are training the goblins how to fight men and mer. Their deaths would also benefit Mournhold."

This was bad. Helseth had gone too far.

"You said 'new king.' What did you mean by that?"

"You didn't know?" he asked in surprise. "Athyn Llethan was the king until recently. He died under suspicious circumstances. Talen Vendas, who was to be the next king, also died soon after. He may have been poisoned. Helseth has a reputation for 'removal' of competition by poison."

I nodded. Even if half of this was hearsay, Helseth was fast becoming a problem: one I might have to deal with at some point. For now, though, I would do as Hler asked.

"One last thing, Rashelle: my sources indicate that the majority of the goblin sightings have been under Godsreach. I expect that there would be the best place to start your investigation."

I nodded and departed.

For a time I simply explored Godsreach. This was a district primarily devoted to housing, but there was also the Museum of artifacts and the Craftsmen's Hall and a tavern called The Winged Guar.

I chatted up anyone I encountered, partially to obtain information and partially just to be friendly.

Ordinators are, in general, humorless and not very sociable. They uphold the law, they believe that they smite violators. They are very earnest, very serious. I have always tried to get along with them, applying my speech-craft skills. My efforts have resulted in the discovery that even a kindly disposed Ordinator is not much for conversation.

It was the same with the Ordinators in Mournhold ... but for one exception: Salas Valor was different. Alone of them he had some personality. I could tell that he was sad about something, and wary, possibly a little afraid. I did not ask him what perturbed him: I knew he would stop talking if I did.

We talked about the weather, about historical points of interest in Mournhold, and even a few rumors. He had also heard about the goblins but had no new information for me.

He even waved goodbye when I took my leave of him. I imagined he may have smiled under his helm.

It was so nice to have finally met a friendly Ordinator. Thus cheered, I located the trapdoor to the sewers below Godsreach. The door was labeled "old Mournhold residential sewers".

I stepped onto the ladder, descended a few rungs, and then closed the door above me.

Oddly enough, no hostile creatures were in the immediate vicinity. I stepped off the ladder and approached a pile of crates. Their contents were nothing of interest so I turned in the other direction. I saw two open doorways that led to the rest of the sewer.

I walked through one of the doorways. The sewer ahead of me was partially filled with a huge rock outcrop. Presumable during the original construction this rock had proved too unyielding for the workers and it had been left as is.

A scrap of paper caught my eye so, curious as ever, I picked it up.

It was a periodical called "The Common Tongue". This issue seemed almost entirely to deal with matters pertaining to the new king Helseth and his supposed propensity for removing obstacles to his power via poison. There was no mention of the Dark Brotherhood.

The large maroon tiled sewer corridor turned right and I followed.

A goblin appeared out of nowhere and attacked me. I slew him rapidly but the noise had alerted others. I saw two run at me. I burned one from a distance with a fireball and then cut the second one down with Chrysamere.

I stood completely still and listened. There were no goblins in the immediate vicinity, but I thought I heard human voices up ahead.

They would wait: heeding my conversation with Ferris Hler, I examined the three goblins. They wore identical bracers, tunics and pauldrons. The bracers had insignias. These goblins wore uniforms. Hler's sources looked to be spot on; an army.

I slipped on a chameleon ring. It was not much of an enchantment but it had the advantage of being constant effect. That plus my skills at sneaking silently would make me close to invisible.

I crept forwards. The sewer branched. To my left it curved into the distance. Ahead I could see a grill and doorways. Past that I saw at least two men or mer. To my right the sewer turned left and reached a dead end.

From the left walked a goblin. He had not seen me: he was wandering ... or patrolling.

I moved back a bit, moving also to the left until I reached the large rock outcrop. I waited, silently. I was patient.

The goblin walked with that characteristic lurching gate, getting closer.

He was not far in front of me now. I was about to spring when he took note of the people ahead of me and rushed to attack them.

These people ahead of me could be potential enemies but I could not let the goblin kill them. I dispatched him with a fireball.

The mer had seen me through a large grille in the wall between us. I slipped off the ring and walked toward them. They did not move from their spot. Since they were not attacking, I walked through the open doorway adjacent to the grille and approached them.

There were three Dunmer and one Breton. I instinctively identified the mer who was the leader. He said "Impressive fireball, mage."

I nodded.

"I am Drathas Nerus. Welcome to my world, where we do things my way."

I raised an eyebrow. He seemed a boasting common thug but for the glass greaves. A would-be bandit would not be able to retain those for long.

The Breton, who stood between the two Dunmer henchmen was wearing only a loincloth and slave bracers.

"Is that a slave?"

"Ha ha, no. Dilborn here became too addicted to gambling. He owes me considerable septims in gambling debts."

The Breton looked pleadingly at me. I sighed. I was going to have to rescue him, wasn't I?

"Hey boss, maybe we should sell him as a slave, since he can't pay", said one of the henchmen through his chiten helm.

"Shut up Alam, I do the thinking, remember?"

"Oh yeah, sorry boss."

I grinned. They were like characters in a bad play.

"What you you smiling at?" said Drathas to me.

"How much?"

"Pardon?"

"How much does he owe?"

He named a large sum. Dilborn had certainly overindulged in the gambling.

"Tell you what. If you took this Breton to the slave markets in Telvanni lands, he'd fetch maybe 1000, no more. I'll give you that now and I'll take him off your hands."

Drathas glared at me.

"You won't get your money back by killing him," I said. "He's obviously unable to pay you. My giving you 1000 now is the only way you'll recoup any of your loss."

"Maybe I'll just take all your money now", he said.

I grinned and waved my hand. Sparks flew from my fingers. I said nothing but my eyes dared him to try.

"It's a deal, muthsera."

Smart boy.

I paid him. He removed the slave bracers and I escorted Dilborn along the short distance to the ladder. He was almost babbling with profuse thanks the whole way. He also kept going on about his friend Thrud, who apparently was not very smart and was waiting for him topside.

Upon reaching the ladder I motioned him to silence and said "no more gambling. I'm not rescuing you if there is a next time. Ensure there will not be a next time."

"y-y-yes, I'm sure I won't ever gamble again. I'll lay you ten to one odds on that!"

"Dilborn, consider this. If you are smarter than Thrud, why is he safe up there and you down here? If I had not come along, you would be dead. Who, then, is the smarter one?"

"Hey, have you got any clothes?"

Enough. I disappeared. You can lead a gaur to water but ...

I crept along the curving sewer passage, once again in a stealthy mode. With the dark brotherhood, my direct combat methods had worked very well. With the combat oriented goblins, the stealthy approach would now be the better approach. I can go both ways: stealth or combat. My years in the thieves guild had given my considerable skill in sneaking around.

The sewer corridor straightened out and then ramped down. I spotted two durzogs. The ideal tactic here would have been to take a bow and nail them with arrows by surprise. Alas, marksman is a skill I've never been able to get the hang of.

I cast a very small and feeble fireball spell at one durzog. It was dim and quiet enough that the second durzog did not notice it. The first durzog flew into a rage and ran towards me. The noise of our combat alerted the second durzog but I finished him before the second durzog reached me. One at a time is so much easier.

Staying close to the wall, I silently descended the ramp. Now the center channel had water in it.

The sewer curved again, to the right as before. I followed.

I reached another branching and a durzog somehow spotted or scented me and attacked. I chopped an outstretched foreleg and then ran to the side. The durzog fell and rolled. I swung and Chrysamere tore into his side. I chopped again and the durzog was dead.

The branch ahead of me was actually another dead end. The left branching led down until it was completely underwater. I took a few breaths and dived.

I had begun to see stars when I finally reached the surface. I tread water, gasping for a moment. Fortunately nothing dangerous was nearby.

I followed the ramp up out of the water. The sewer branched. A feeling made me go right instead of my usual left. There was another branching: to the right a ramp up and ahead another cavernous sewer room. I stealthily advanced into this room.

I recognized the corpses: I had been here before. These were the sewers under the palace.

I returned to the upward-sloping ramp and followed that.

I saw three goblins. A fireball toasted one of them. This alerted the other two who ran to the offensive.

One was as I had seen before, including the uniform. The other one was larger, different, and he cast fireballs at me. I just took it and charged ahead: a momentary break from my stealthy approach. After slaying them I examined the larger one. He had a ring of fireballs. That explained the spells. While the intelligence of goblins is not known, it has been assumed that they are not as smart as humans. Had he used a scroll instead of a ring then that meant he was able to read. Goblins smart enough to read would have worried me.

This one was an officer of some kind. He wore no tunic but instead a loincloth and a harness: straps around his torso with insignias. He had bracers like the lesser goblins and larger pauldrons: one was iron and one had been made from a skull. He wore on his clawed feet something that resembled boots but the heel and toe had been opened. Such a design might work for a Khajiit or an Argonian. He had horns. Were the officers a different sub-species? I dubbed this one the "bruiser" because he was a ball of muscle.

My inspection was interrupted by a durzog. I took care of him and then continue on my way.

I quietly slipped though a door labeled "Old Mournhold West Sewers".

And so it went on. I began to notice the patterns in the movements of the goblin patrols and this allowed me to sneak past more of them without having to engage in combat.

The sewers were certainly extensive. They seemed larger than the city above them.

After a time I began to see other types of goblin soldiers: higher ranks. This indicated that I was nearing my goal: the goblin army headquarters.

A door with the legend "Battlefield" scratched on it led to more sewers that eventually became caves. I entered an absolutely gargantuan cavern. It was so huge that it almost appeared as if I were outdoors.

If this were indeed a battlefield that used to be on the surface, what had caused such a thickness of stone to grow over it? Perhaps, the question to ask was: what had caused it to sink into the ground so deeply?

I used spells to take out the two or three goblins there. I had expected more to be stationed here for some reason.

There was a building, partially covered with rock, with a raised square platform on top. I cast a levitation spell and flew up to inspect the platform. I saw nothing of interest. There were no doors to enter the building itself.

I almost did not notice the door partway up the wall of the cavern. It was atop a stone formation that looked like a ramp. I floated over to it.

This door was labeled "city gate". Once again I marveled that this had at one time been the surface. The levitation spell timed out and I opened the door.

This eventually led me to the ruins of the old armory.

Some say that it is difficult to sneak up on and kill creatures one at a time with a big claymore but I did that several times here, as some sections were too narrow for me to creep past undetected. Of course, as always, where there are goblins, there are durzogs. I dealt with those as well.

I found some adamantium veins but could not carry that much: the ore is heavier then the finished armor.

A combination of sneaking and combat led me to a door labeled "Tears of Amun-Shae". I wondered who that was.

It was here that I found the two goblin war chiefs. They were bigger and even uglier than the other goblins. They were also much tougher. Fortunately, for me, they were not together in the same section of cave. I did not have to fight them both at once. As it was, I did need to use potions.

My mission was largely accomplished but I wanted to find the Altmer trainers so I continued.

My explorations led to the residential ruins, an area very reminiscent of the manor district. The two altmer were in an old manor building there called "Teran Hall east".

They didn't want to talk. After a dialog involving blades it was determined that they would never train again. I searched for incriminating papers, something to tie them to Helseth, but did not find anything.

Mission fully accomplished, I cast Almsivi Intervention and was teleported to a spot just outside the Mournhold Temple.

Fedris Hler was very pleased and mentioned that Gavas Drin, the temple patriarch, might have additional missions of service to "our lady".

It had been a long day: I would talk to Gavas but not today.

Whew, that was a lot to read! It was still written very well though, plenty of Rashelle's sarcasm and dry humour that I do love so much. Keep it up!

Long, and absolutely worth it! Good job.

Sorry it has been soooo long. This one fought me.


Chapter 3. Shrine



They say that curiosity will enable you to learn things, that curiosity is the mark of a discerning and intelligent man or mer. I sometimes think that curiosity is nothing but a source of trouble. Certainly that was the case that morning.

After being teleported to the palace, I decided to walk around and explore the city some more. After that I would see Gavas Drin.

My wandering feet took me to the Godsreach area. I was admiring the blue architecture when I remembered the events of the other day in the Great Bazaar, when that strange would-be mage had appeared and attacked me. What was his name ... Ovis Velas. Yes, that was it. Someone had told me that there was a Velas manor here in Godsreach.

I located the manor in short time and knocked on the door. There was no answer. I waited a bit longer. Either no one was home or the Dunmer I had slain was the only resident. I discreetly tried the door. It was locked.

Stretching my arms, I rotated slowly in place ... looking all around without appearing to. Having ascertained that no one was paying any attention to me, I slipped a lock pick from my pack and quietly unlocked the door.

I entered Velas manor and found myself in a large blue room that covered all of the first floor.

The room was richly furnished and there was at least one bookcase filled with interesting-looking books. I saw a table with a nice set of alchemy equipment.

At the table stood the Dunmer I thought I had killed the other day.

"Salutations, Rashelle. So nice of you to join me in my humble abode. I was all prepared to offer you a nice drink or a bite to eat before we got down to business, but you are late in coming and I don't appreciate being kept waiting, so business it shall be. I can sense you've already made the acquaintance of my unfortunate brother."

"O-Ovis?" I said in astonishment.

"My brother: we always did look very much alike. I am Gavis Velas."

Oh. This was the brother of the mer I had slain.

He continued: "Yes, Ovis always did like to take credit for my exploits. Too bad that this time, in trying to become my doppleganger, it would appear he went too far."

The calm detached tone with which Gavis talked of his brothers death was unsettling.

"I understand your position, Rashelle -- you have to defend yourself. But I also must ask you to understand mine -- I have to avenge my brother. Thus, a duel is called for, and there is no time like the present. Prepare yourself, Rashelle. Thy doom is imminent, and I have other matters to attend to."

With a flick of the wrist, he summoned two golden saints and an ogrim titan.

Instinctively I cast a fireball. Then I drew Chrysamere. He must have had a Reflect spell because the fireball came right back at me.

Ignoring the pain, I darted past the golden saints and leaped aside from the ogrim's large fist. When dealing with this sort of situation, it is best to go direct to the summoner, and not deal with his summonings.

As I swung Chrysamere, Velas zapped me with an electrical spell. This time, my birth-sign absorbed it.

He dodged my swing, I continued the swing so that my blade sliced into the nearer golden saint. The second saint swung her sword but as luck would have it, the ogrim dealt me a blow that sent me flying before the second saint's swing could connect.

I slammed into a bookcase just as another fireball hit me. This time it did damage. Flaming books flew everywhere as I quickly quaffed a healing potion.

This wasn't working out so well.

I got up just as the two saints reached me. Velas was so far back that I knew I would have to fight his summonings after all.

I batted a sword aside with Chrysamere and cut into one of the saints. I shook as a sword bounced off my cuirass. I dodged under another swing and This time I finished one of the saints.

This was a mixed blessing, as the two saints had been effectively blocking the ogrim titan. With a rapidity that is always unexpected from something that size, he backhanded me and I was again in flight. I crashed against the stairwell that led to the second floor.

Just to keep things interesting, I was hit with a poison spell.

As I ran up the stairs I sucked down another healing potion.

I turned in time to see the ogrim place an oversized foot on the first step. I hit him with a frost spell, then a fireball. He howled.

What was nice was that he was blocking Velas and the remaining golden saint from running up the stairs. Somehow Velas cast a large frost ball spell past the ogrim. My birth-sign did not absorb it but the cold was soothing.

I ran down and swung Chryamere, lopping off one of the ogrim's arms. I darted back up as he swung with the remaining one. I hit him with a fireball and then closed again: this time I thrust my sword deep into the bulk of the ogrim, finally dispatching him.

I ducked a swing from the golden saint while freeing my blade from the corpse. By the time she swung again, Chrysamere was free and I parried.

Another poison spell bloomed around me: oh yeah, I had forgotten about Velas.

With two quick chops I finished the golden saint.

As no summonings were forthcoming I took a quick second to down another Restore Heath potion.

I cast a frost ball at Velas. This one did not Reflect.

I charged. He cast another poison spell at me. My birth-sign absorbed it.

He wore no armor but could duck and weave with the best of them. Now he had drawn a glass jinkblade. As with the dark brotherhood, my skill and the longer reach of my claymore kept the jinkblade from ever touching me. I swung and his head went flying across the room. I dodged the blood shooting from his neck as his body fell.

I drank another healing potion and sat down to take a breather.

After a minute or so I stood up explored the house. I found a good amount of gems and useful alchemy ingredients. Velas himself had a ring of poison-bloom. His robe was enchanted to reflect fire spells.

I fear my curiosity will be the death of me one day.



I strode through the Temple, looking for the Archcanon's office. I saw a nervous looking priest. He paced back and forth in the corridor fretfully.

"Sera, are you well?" I asked him. "Can I assist?"

"Ah, he-h-hello," he stuttered, "n-no: everything is fine."

Sure ... and I can sell you some prime real estate in Ebonheart real cheap.

I nodded and moved on.

Gavas Drin's appearance was more what one expected from a priest. He had no bulges indicative of armor, nor the scar or the bearing of Hler.

"I'm Rashelle. Fedris Hler said I might be of assistance to you?"

"Yes Rashelle," said Drin. "I have heard about what you have done for us so far and Almalexia is pleased. I do have something else you could do to be of service if you are willing."

I nodded.

"Underground, deep beneath the temple, is an old shrine. It dates from the time before the Temple, when we Dunmer practiced only ancestor worship. The shrine is a source of magical power. Long abandoned, its power has not faded but has instead gone ... sour. A powerful form of undead called the profane lich has infested the shrine.

"While temple doctrine disavows ancestor worship, the Lady believes that it has its place and that the power to be gained from that shrine is great.

"I would like you to go down there are clean out all of the profane liches. I also need you to escort one of our priests down there so that he can perform the necessary procedure on the shrine. You must protect him at all costs. Only he can perform this cleansing"

I nodded and said, "I can do that right now. Where is he?"

"He was here a second ago," he said in a slightly annoyed tone.

He darted past me to the door and called down the corridor "Urvel!"

Drin stepped back and that nervous looking priest scurried into the room.

"Rashelle, this is Urvel Dulni. He is the Mer you are to escort. He must be protected."

"Urvel, this is Rashelle. She's going to escort you down there. Do as she says."

"Stay here" I told the trembling priest. "I will clear the way first and then come fetch you."

He nodded. He looked relieved.

It didn't take long to find the shrine. As per Gavas Drin's directions, I reached it via the west sewers and then the old temple gardens. Once again I marveled at how what used to be on the surface was now so deep underground.

I cleared out many creatures on the way but it was nothing that I had not already encountered in the past few days under Mournhold.

At last I reached the area of the abandoned shrine. I could not see the shrine itself yet, but there was a disquieting magical presence. Drin had used the term "soured" and that described the feeling exactly. This was an ancient and powerful magic that had gone evil. The air was sticky with it.

The presence of profane liches in this part of the caverns further indicated that this was the place.

The profane liches had even worse spells than the regular ones. They just threw spell after spell at me. My attempts to cast Silence on them didn't work. Once again the atronach birth sign was of great help.

I darted to one side to avoid a fireball and cast one of my own.

I rolled and sucked down a healing potion just as another fireball from a second profane hit me.

A third noticed me and also began to cast.

I gulped another healing potion, cast a spell for fire resistance, and then rushed the first profane. He back-peddled but I reached him anyway and lashed out with Chrysamere. My sword bounced: these Profane were made of tougher bone or something. I swung a few more times, knocking chips of bone away, until finally the profane fell apart.

While this was occurring, I was the object of fireball target practice on on the part of Profanes Two and Three. It was time to change that.

A cast a fireball at Number Two and then rushed Number Three. As I neared him, I dived down to the ground and swept my blade across, into his legs. It did not kill him but it knocked him over, which stopped him casting any spells for a few precious seconds. I spun around and a well-aimed kick sent him flying. He bounced off of the wall and landed in a heap. I hit him a large fireball and he disintegrated.

Meanwhile, the remaining profane had stopped spell-casting and was now running towards me, axe raised and ready to swing.

I scorched him with a fireball and then charged. He swung and I parried. With a loud clang, the axe shattered. I swung and the skull was cleaved. The profane lich fell apart.

I followed the cave a bit further. I found and destroyed some more profane. I also found an altar. The soured magic emanations here were so strong that my teeth vibrated: there was an audible hum. It felt unclean and somehow wrong. It was time to go back and fetch Trembling Boy.

I cast Almsivi intervention and entered the temple. He was at the Archcanon's office where I had left him.

"Ready to go?"

"Y-y-y-yes, that is, errr, if you t-t-think it's safe?"

"Come."

We descended into the temple sewers and then made our way to the caverns where the shrine was located. Again I wondered why Drin had chosen him, of all people, to perform this task. He looked like he could not even handle a rat, let alone anything really dangerous.

Once at the altar, he knew what to do. He cast a spell: I could not tell what it was. The altar glowed and Urvel began to ... sing. There were words that I could recognize: it sounded nothing like any spell I'd heard a temple priest use.

The altar continued to glow, the air was different. The vibration in my teeth got worse, then lessened. He continued to sing, varying the pitch up and down. It was as if he were ... tuning the altar.

For a moment the quality of my vision changed. Everything seemed to blur, then get brighter. The blurring went away and suddenly everything was dim and blue. He lowered the pitch and everything turned red. I looked at my hands. they were red as well.

He stopped singing and lifted his hands away. The glow in the alter faded away. and I could see as before. I felt a cool breeze. The air no longer had that sticky evil feeling to it. I could still feel the magic in the place but it was different now, not sour. There was silence.

He turned to me and said, "It is done. We can go now."

It was the first time he had not stuttered.

"Good."

I raised my hands to cast an Almsivi Intervention spell but something in his eyes made me pause.

"You do know the Almsivi Intervention spell, don't you?"

He shook his head.

I rolled my eyes and said "Sera, you are a priest in the Temple. You know spells sufficient to "cleanse" a shrine. I can't believe you never learned such a basic and useful spell as that one!"

"I, uhhhh, n-never learned."

"Feh! C'mon."

I lead him up to the temple without incident. Gavas Drin thanked me for escorting the priest and gave me a Blessed Spear: I'm sure it would look wonderful in my house in the pile with all of the other unique enchanted things.

"I am ready for more tasks." I said.

"I have nothing for you right now; perhaps Fedris Hler might."

I nodded and left.

"Yes Rashelle," responded Fedris. "The lady appreciates your efforts and has a special assignment for you."

I nodded.

"Deep underground, below the temple, is an abandoned crypt. Within this crypt lies an ancient artifact called the Mazed Band. I know that it is a ring but I have no other information about it.

"The location of the Mazed Band is known: it is in an abandoned crypt beneath the temple. Recently a tunnel to this crypt was discovered and cleared out. The tunnel lies in the northern part of the Old Mournhold Temple Sewers"

"Not much do go on," I observed. "Are you sure you can't find out more about it?"

"I'm sorry Rashelle, that is all I have been told. Perhaps Archcanon Drin would know more. You should ask him."

I turned to go back to Drins office.

"Rashelle?"

"yes?"

"You almost forgot your spear."

"Oh, how silly of me."

Darn: I'd have to ditch it some other way.

I went back to Drin's office and he had only a small amount of information.

"Ages ago, a powerful sorcerer named Barilzar created the Mazed Band. The legends are unclear as to exactly what the Band did, but apparently it was powerful. It may have been capable of summoning creatures from another realm. There may also have been a teleportation enchantment upon it.

"Like many mages, Barilzar desired power and eternal life. He may have turned himself into a lich just so he could live forever. I imagine if he is still around he's evil, and very powerful. Still, since you handled those profane liches, this should not be an insurmountable problem."

Says the mer who is not actually going down there himself. Still, he had a point; after Dagoth Ur and those Profane liches, what's another undead immortal?

"Almalexia would like to use the ring's power for the benefit of her people. I have no further information."

I nodded. This information, spotty as it was, would have to do.

Phew, quite a nice novel you got going there. A good idea for you, try writing in smaller segments, then check them as they are completed, this way you make less mistakes. Otherwise, keep it up!

P.S. Loved the attempt to ditch the spear, write more like that please.

Sweet. Rashelle is quite fast, don't you think?

I liked the cleansing scene, very interesting. And the ditching attempt was neat as Zelda already said. Though personally, I would probably drag it around with me till the end of Tribunal and then dump it in Tel Uvirith. Silly, yes but I just can't ever bring myself to dropping items of value. Even mundane enchanted items go into my collection.

The problem with writing in smaller scenes is that my writing style involves a lot of revision. Often something I add at the end will make it necessary for me to change something in the beginning. Because of this, I have to get the entire chapter/segment/whatever finished before it can be posted. Usually I don't even know what the title the chapter is until it has been entirely written.

The spear is a needed bit of humor. I've written a few out-of-order bits ahead[1] and this story is getting darker and bleaker. Rashelle has less funny lines. I'm trying to get more funny bits in somehow.

It's been a while since I actually played the Tribunal main quest: I had to start it again three or four days ago so I could get things straight for this story ... and I'd forgotten how it gets. It's not the fun-filled family frolic that Lokken was.

--
[1] the very end has already been written ... it's just that all of those little bits in between now and the end that need to be done.

Well of course she's fast, she's the Nereverine after all.

Glad you like the cleansing scene. They way they had it in the game was too boring and quick after all of that buildup. I had add some interest.

In-game, Rashelle never ditches anything. In her Balmora house she's got high-capacity containers just packed with crap.

Shorter chapter today (Hey zelda_zealot )

--
Chapter 4. Mazed Band


Once again through the temple basement, once again in the temple sewers. I almost knew the rats by name now. I mused that maybe I should just live down here to shorten the trip times.

Wandering along the sewers and through the caves that used to be the surface, fighting liches and skeletons and the odd goblin or three, I eventually found an area new to me. It was a pile of rubble next to a narrow cave. I saw a broken miner's pick. This had to be the recently cleared tunnel that Hler had mentioned.

Although the tunnel was cleared, the crypts beyond it were not. There was nothing unusual at first, merely more of the usual undead and some rats. I suppose one should not say "merely" when referring to liches. Those things are rather annoying for their ability to just hammer one with spell after spell.

One stretch of cave turned and entered into a section of what looked like sewer, with its maroon floor tiles. This was a dead end so that it formed a room. In this room stood something new to me. It was a skeleton, yet it wore more and different clothes than skeletons normally wear. It seemed to be wearing ... a crown? There were thin strands of grey hair somehow attached to its skull. It was also a bit shorter than me. Had this been a Bosmer when it was alive?

"What are you doing here?" it asked in a sepulchral voice.

"I'm here to recover the Mazed Band for Almalexia."

It ... he ... laughed dryly and said "Do you know who I am?"

"Fargoth's aunt, Clargoth?" Oh Rashelle, you must stop this habit of talking without thinking first!

"No. I am Barilzar, the one who made the Mazed band untold centuries ago. I cannot let its power slip into the wrong hands. I turned myself into a lich so that I could protect it. Leave now, mortal, while you still can."

I waited.

"Well, go on then, lest you feel my wrath."

I waited.

"I really don't want to kill you."

"Must you?"

"Well, not if you leave. I'm serious now. I have to protect this ring so that no one can misuse it. It's important, you know."

"I see. Well, could I borrow it?"

"Hmm, well you look the trustworthy type ... but you serve this Almy, Alley ... Almee ..."

"Almalexia. She is one of the Tribunal."

"Hmm, not sure I know them; new I guess. Then again, down here with only other undead for company, one doesn't get that much news."

"Doesn't it get boring, you know, sitting here in this cave for centuries with no one to talk to?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, it does ... but it is necessary. I have to protect this ring."

"So you keep saying."

Was this thing was going to talk me to death?

"Say," I remarked, "How do I know that you are really Barilzar?"

"But I am!"

"Riddle me this, sera: if you are really him, you would know about the disappearance of the Dwemer, wouldn't you?"

"Errr, since when did they disappear?"

"About a thousand years ago."

"Oh, then that was after I became a lich. Too recent; sorry."

I had been an adventurer for some time. I had managed to handle that pesky matter of Dagoth Ur and come out alive and ahead. Over time I had built up instincts ... senses. Sometimes I would just have a feeling and without hesitation I would act on it. Every time it happened it saved my life.

This time was no exception. The thought was the deed and I half fell, half dove, to the right.

I heard a crackling sound and a ball of electrical damage magic swirled by me and splashed into the wall behind Barilzar.

I sprang to my feet, to see a second Barilzar. This one was larger, the height of an Altmer. The little one had been a distraction to set me up for the real one.

I cast a large fireball. It reflected. Through a red haze of pain I quaffed a restore health potion.

As I dodged another spell I ran for the little guy and clove him in two. Now I would be able to focus on the big guy without distractions. Too bad about the Dwemer, though: I would still like to know what happened to them.

I cast a Reflect spell, took a second potion, and charged the real Barilzar. The restore health potions that I make last around half a minute. Therefore it is sometimes a good idea to take one ahead of time, then one can just take the damage for the next half minute and know that it will be healed.

I waded through two fireballs before I reached him. He backed away but he was much slower than I was. Chrysamere slashed into him.

He actually turned and ran: undead usually never have the initiative to do that. This made it easy for me: a fireball and then a second fireball and he became a small pile of pieces of scorched bone.

I searched though this pile and found only the blackened clothing, the crown, an iron dagger and a ring. The ring was unadorned: it was simply a band of tarnished metal. I could feel no enchantments on it at all. That didn't seem right, but I took the ring anyway. I also took the crown and the dagger.

I then searched little Barilzar. There was no ring there, no weapon, nor anything but the clothing & crown. I took this crown as well, just in case. I would hate to have to make a second trip because I had overlooked something.

I searched the room but found no other items.

I shrugged, cast Almsivi Intervention, and was back on the surface. I entered the Temple and found Fedris.

I showed him the ring and the two crowns.

He raised an eyebrow.

I shrugged.

He looked towards the door in the back of the reception area. It was the large one that wouldn't open when I had surreptitiously tried it the other day.

I looked questioningly at him.

He nodded.

I raised an eyebrow.

He nodded again.

I walked over to the door. I gave it a tug. This time it opened, smoothly and silently. I entered and found myself in a large round chamber. It was dimly lit but I could see that it was also blue. There were four doors in the walls, including the one I had entered. Most of the floor was covered by a raised dais.

And there she was.

She hovered in the center of the room. She was suffused with a golden glow. This radiated out and lit the five figures who stood around her. They had to be the Hands I had heard about: like ordinators but with powers bestowed on them directly by Almalexia. It was said that they were the most powerful mortal warriors in Tamriel.

She wore a long loincloth which went down past her knees, a metal bra and a pair of unusual asymmetrical pauldrons. Her skin was the golden hue of the Altmer and was covered with ... tattoos? In her bright flaming red hair was a tiara. Her eyes were golden and she was barefoot.

"Come and bath in the light of my glory," she said in the smooth low voice of a Dunmer woman.

I approached. Without thought I sank to my knees.

"I believe you have something for me?" she said.

Mutely I held out the dull ring. She plucked it from my hands: I felt a little shock when her fingers brushed my palm.

"Yes, this is it. It appears to be a simple ring with no enchantments on it, yet rest assured that I can restore its hidden power."

My voice returned to me.

"What are you going to do with it?"

"I don't think you really need to be concerned with that. I will use it for the benefit of my people; that is all you need to know."

I nodded. that was enough for me. In the events that resulted in my becoming the Nerevarine I had come to appreciate Vivec's motivations. I would never know what had actually happened to Nerevar for sure but I did not think that Vivec had murdered him. Vivec's earnest sincerity had made an impression on me. He had made mistakes but he had really wanted to help his people. He wanted to protect and save Morrowind. He had tried his best; he had good intentions.

I had done well by Vivec, therefore ... how could I not trust Almalexia? Though they had been false gods, and were now mortal, I trusted the Tribunal.

"You have served me well. I may have other tasks for you at later time."

It was a dismissal. I nodded and left.

As I exited the temple, I mulled upon the original reason that I had come to Mournhold: the attempt on my life. While evidence pointed to Helseth, it was not solid evidence. I had been thinking of killing Helseth ... but to kill him if he were not the culprit would be wrong. I would have to find out more.

I had no good idea on how to do this but I did know that I would have to start at the palace.

Good idea with Fargoth there! Easily the best part of the story so far.

yay...I like it Blockie!....jeez. I sit here on a comp in the lobby of my hotel....just had to read along you see...oh I like Rashelle she´s a woman of my kind! Honestly she is!

I laughed my head off when I read the conversation with fake Barilzar. That was simply awesome.
,,It's the big evil artefact of doom. I must protect it from those who want to steal it."
,,Can I borrow it for an undetermined time?"
,,Well um...sure, why not?"

Thank you all for the kind words.

Minque, I hope your trip goes well. I'm highly honored[1] that you even checked the story while in a hotel lobby[2].

Some good news on this story: I'm in the groove ... finally. The installments should be happening at a faster rate. The questions that were holding the story back have been answered. I now have certain plot things resolved and have decided which sidequests and subplots will be dropped.[3]

And yes, it's still going to be dark and bleak, but hey, that's the way the Tribunal main quest is supposed to go. I'm not fighting it anymore, I'm running with it: sometimes the problem is the solution.


--
[1] - I'm not worthy!
[2] - clear cookies and passwords when you are done!
[3] - hint for game fanfic authors: cheat/walkthrough sites are really handy!

Rashelle blushes and says "aww shucks". She scuffs one booted foot with the other.

I cant believe I wrote this in such a short time! The story is almost writing itself now.

Edit: complete with it's own continuity errors - woops ... fixed

--
Chapter 5. Assassination Plot



I entered the throne room. My black hair and eyes, well-known sword and my particular combination of armor identified me as Rashelle the Nerevarine; no one tried to bar my entry.

Of course there were many guards in the throne room. Any attempt on my part to attack Helseth would not have been successful. As stated before, that was not my intent. My intent was to figure out what was actually going on.

The room fell silent save for the sound of my ebony boots on the floor. A guard darted in front of me and stopped me with a gesture.

"At ease, guard. We would give an audience to the Nerevarine. Permit her to approach us."

The guard stepped aside. I nodded to him and approached Helseth. I remained standing. He stood up.

He was a Dunmer, clad in rich robes. A crown was upon his head. He had a neatly trimmed goatee. His ears had been ... truncated: they were no longer pointed Mer ears but were now shaped like Man ears. Gold had been embedded in the flesh where the points used to be.

"Sire, why are your ears like that?"

That's me, all the court manners of an ogrim. One day this business of saying exactly what is on my mind without thinking first will get me into trouble. This time I got lucky: he laughed.

"It is a show of unity with the Empire, with the non-Elven races."

I nodded. Strange but it made sense in a twisted way, I guess.

I then noticed a look in his eye. I had seen that look before. Most men, even in these modern times, really do not approve of strong active women. They would rather we stayed in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant, while the men had all the fun. Many men will come to respect and appreciate strong women over time, but they essentially relate to us as if we were other men.

A small fraction of men, however, get weak in the knees when they encounter women who can swing a sword, wield an axe, smash with a war-hammer, be aggressive and cast spells. They get gooey eyed: they absolutely become enchanted with us.

Helseth was this latter type. Too bad for him; I was not at all interested in him in that way. Still, it would help negotiations.

From my pack I pulled out the insigniad Dark Brotherhood helm. I showed it to him.

He looked at it and his eyes widened. He had noticed the insignia.

"Why?" I asked softly.

"Some of our advisors had incorrectly indicated that you might have designs on our Throne. It was seen as necessary to prevent this. We can see now that this was a mistake on our part. You will not be troubled by this sort of thing again."

He seemed almost embarrassed. I gave him credit for not denying it.

I would never want to rule. Uneasy lies the one that sits the throne. Helseth could never go explore a Daedric shrine for fun. He could never simply wander in a market place. He would never be able to get away and watch the sun rise while seated on the roof of Scar in Ald'ruhn. He would always live in fear of assassination. He could never have even one moment alone. To be a monarch was to be a prisoner. That kind of life was not for me.

I felt sorry for him.

I believed him.

He handed the helm back to me. I placed it in my pack.

"We are concerned with a possible plot on our royal person and would like you to assist in this matter."

I nodded.

"Excellent. We would like you to meet with one of our agents. You are to use a code phrase. Speak to him of his uncle's farm. He is an Orc named Bakh gro-Sham and you will find him in the Winged Guar in Godsreach. Return to us with whatever information he gives you."

I nodded and departed.

Soon I was in the Winged Guar. I wondered if I should get a room here instead of teleporting back and forth to Vvardenfell every day.

Since there was only one Orc in the place it was easy to ascertain who I had to talk to.

I introduced myself and asked about his uncles farm.

He rolled his eyes.

"I yi yi! Enough with the dumb code phrases. Our boss is so paranoid: he drives me nuts, scurrying about after false rumors. He sees intrigues everywhere. He's a great guy but he really needs to switch to a weaker tea."

I snorted and giggled.

"However, Rashelle, this time he may be right: there is a plot. It is not directed at him though, no. It is a planned attempt on the queen-mother's life."

I raised an eyebrow.

"You didn't know that she is here in Mournhold?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"He sent you to test me, didn't he?"

I remained silent.

"OK. Look, Rashelle, it's like this: King Helseth's mother, the retired queen Barenziah, has recently moved back to Mournhold. She is an elegant, sophisticated and kind woman."

"Oh."

"I was not able to get any specific information. I do not know who is behind it or why they would want to kill her."

"Thank you, Bakh gro-Sham."

He nodded and I returned to the palace.

"This agrees with what information we have received from our other agents", said Helseth after my brief report.

Did he always refer to himself in the plural?

"Rashelle, if our regular guards were stationed in the Queen's chamber, it would alert the assassins. We do not desire that. We would like you to stand guard tomorrow night. That is when the assassins will attack, according to our other sources."

"I will do this."

"Excellent."

"You may wish to speak to her. She is in her chambers now and we believe she would like to meet the Nerevarine."

I nodded. He gave me directions and I went.

Like all Dunmer, she was taller than I am. I had met many rulers and authority figures but few had the poise and bearing that queen Barenziah had. I wished she were still ruling.

She offered me tea. We talked for a time.

"My son sees conspiracies everywhere. While a measure of paranoia is required for a king, I do hope that in time he will learn to tone it down to a reasonable level. He's a bit rash as well: he needs to work on that."

I nodded. The less I speak, the more other people speak and I found her very interesting to listen to.

"Have you met Plitinius Mero? He is here in Mournhold now. He wrote an unauthorized biography of me and was in some trouble from the Empire for it. I protected him from this and he has remained loyal to me ever since. He is truly an intelligent and educated man and he is a wealth of information on many subjects. You will find that he is one of the few trustworthy people around here."

She was essentially telling me to trust no one but her and this writer friend of hers. I'm sure everyone in the Court of Helseth would say similar things: "trust no one but me." Despite that, I found myself liking her. Perhaps she made me think of the mother I never had.

Still, "like" did not automatically mean trust.

That night I lodged at the Winged Guar.

I had all of the next day to myself. I started the day off by sleeping late. After that I was provided with a tub of hot water. It was nice not to have to make trips to and from the river. Some may wonder that, while I dislike water, I enjoy baths. The fact is that I dislike large water that one can drown in. A tub of water was another matter: it was small water. It was controlled.

I explored the city for a time. In Godsreach I saw my friend Salas Valor. He was grumbling to himself. That was odd behavior for an ordinator.

"Salas, are you OK?"

He growled for a second and then stopped.

"Oh, hello Rashelle. I am well, thanks for asking."

And I can sell you a bridge in the Azura's Coast region.

I had a bag of candied comberries that I had bought in the Great Bazaar: I offered it to him and he removed his helm and took one.

"Thank you Rashelle. So how are you today?"

"I am fine. I had a good night's sleep and yesterday I got to meet Almalexia."

"Her!" he said angrily and stormed off.

I made a mental note to myself to avoid speaking of Almalexia to Salas. That was very puzzling. It was rude of him to walk away like but I was too concerned to be offended: he was moody but he was still my friend.

Looking up, I could see that the sun had not yet reached its zenith. I had a lot of time to kill before my job tonight.

I recalled that distraught woman I had met in the sewers the other day: it was time for me to deal with the Black Dart Gang.

I found the ghost of Variner in a dead end of the Temple Sewers that I had overlooked before. I could distinguish him from other ghosts by the fact that he did not attack. I approached him cautiously and he began to speak. He identified himself as Variner and related his story to me.

I told him of my intention to deal with the matter. He cautioned me about the darts.

"One dart does a lot of damage, instantly. You look rather tough so two darts would be needed to kill you."

I raised an eyebrow in frank disbelief.

"Rashelle, you must believe me! These darts have heinous enchantments on them. Some of them have equally strong and fast-acting poisons. One hit for a normal person, two hits for you, and ... bam! you're dead!"

Variner told me what armor and weapons he had when he was killed. He related to me his skills and abilities. I was finally convinced. I would have to be careful.

He gave me directions and explained that there was a lever near a torch in a certain location. The lever was used for sewer maintenance: pulling it would flood the entire eastern part of the sewers without affecting the central part. This would kill the Black Dart Gang easily.

It was a long twisty walk, essentially north and east, from Variner to the door I wanted. Someone had scratched "temple sewers west" on it. This confirmed Variner's directions. Chameleon ring on and moving silently, I slowly eased the door open. I sneaked through the doorway.

Since one dart could take someone out almost instantly, I might not have time to take a healing potion. I needed to be very stealthy ... more so than I had been when dealing with the goblins. Focus Rashelle: move slowly, do not rush.

No one was nearby. I quietly closed the door behind me.

The sewer corridor rose up ahead of me and then turned right. Keeping to the left side, I followed it.

I was not going to use the lever. What if innocents were here? I was not the only adventurer wandering the sewers.

I recalled one such that I had seen the other day: a woman with short blond hair, Breton with a hint of Bosmer about her, wearing next to nothing. A metal hoop a hand-span or so in diameter had hung at her side. She had been armed with two odd-looking daggers. She had talked to herself constantly; pausing as if listening to an invisible companion. Obviously she was quite mad. A wave of sadness came over me as I remembered her. What had driven her to that state?

There were some strange people down in the sewers, but I did not want to kill them by mistake.

I reached the turn and examined some crates that where there. I found nothing of interest, just some plates and some clothing. The clothing made me think of Dilborn and I smiled.

At a maddeningly time-consuming pace, I continued to creep along the sewer. After a time it ramped down and then turned left and then left again.

I sneakily traversed a great deal of sewer and there were no goblins, no undead, not even any rats. Someone was keeping this area clean of creatures.

The sewer corridor curved to the right and I followed.

It turned to the left and then split. I looked to the left and saw two Dunmer. I didn't see any weapons on them but something as small as a dart I would not be able to make out in this light at this distance.

Were they Black Dart Gang, or innocents? I did not want to mistakenly kill a simple fellow adventurer.

"Hey there," I called out, "Are you the ..."

With alarming speed, two darts flew inches away from my head.

Right. That answered my question.

I cast a large fireball and darted back the way I came. I ran, weaving sideways in a deliberately random fashion so as to make it more difficult for their projectiles to hit me.

The only sounds were the clattering of darts to either side and my footsteps.

I was drawing ahead: good. I stopped to summon two atronaches and then dove to one side, behind a rock outcrop I had passed earlier.

I knew short work would be made of my atronaches but they would serve as a distraction: now the two gang members would not know exactly where I was.

I crouched behind the rock and began to drink Restore Health potions.

My flame atronach lasted a few seconds longer than the frost atronach. The two Dunmer approached.

At this point I had just consumed twelve potions and I expected that this would be enough to counteract even Black Darts. I leaped from behind the rock and charged.

Both Dunmer threw darts and as I swung my sword I could feel the poison's action. As my sword cut through the first Mer I could feel that my potions were counteracting the poison nicely.

The remaining Mer tried to jab a dart in my face. I kicked him away. He managed to throw one dart before I dispatched him. This one had a powerful fire enchantment on it, which my birth-sign dealt with.

I could still feel the poison working and I knew that the effect of my potions was about to wear off, so I cast a spell to cure poison.

A search of the bodies yielded a rather spiffy new collection of very deadly darts.

I suppose I had a feral grin as I examined some of the nastier darts. The rest of the gang were going to have a taste of their own medicine.

As stealthy as before, I resumed my explorations. I again reached the branching and I turned left.

This transitioned to a narrow cavern. I continued along this and it bent to the right. I spotted a Dunmer before he spotted me. Since I had already ascertained that this was Black Dart territory, I was able to silently take him down without hesitation.

I increased my dart collection and followed the cave passage. This entered a cave occupied by another Dunmer.

Using only one dart, I killed him. I found more darts on the body.

It took me a while to explore the whole area but there were no other occupants aside from those four Dunmer. I had gotten rid of the Black Dark Gang.

When I returned to Variner, he thought otherwise.

"There is one more. I can sense him. I think he is in the Temple Sewers East."

I opened the door to the Eastern area of the Temple sewers. The fifth member of the Black dart gang was only a few paces behind that door. He threw one dart and then another. Both bounced off my cuirass and I hit him with a fireball. A third dart hit me in the shoulder. Through an intense wave of agony, I cast another fireball. The fetcher had put both poison and an enchantment on this dart. My birth-sign had diffused the enchantment, but the poison was burning in my veins. I fell to the floor.

I slammed down a healing potion and then another one. My vision was dimming. I tossed back a third potion and a fourth.

That had been far too close.

Only then did I think to look around me. Fortunately my fireball had finished my attacker.

I headed for the Bazaar sewers.

Upon reaching Narisa Adus I told her what had occurred.

"They're... dead?" she gasped in disbelief. "You killed them? You killed the Black Dart Gang? It's... a miracle. Here. Please. Take this. Variner gave it to me -- it belonged to his family. I'm sure they all would want you to have it. You have my thanks, and the thanks of Variner's family, and his spirit, and all the victims of the Black Dart Gang."

I nodded and thanked her. I didn't want another ring but it would crush her if I refused it. It had an enchantment on it: one could use it to make oneself slightly more charming for a short time.

When I reached the surface I could see that it was sunset.

I had dinner at the Winged Guar and then went to the palace.

"... and keep this door bolted," I cautioned Barenziah.

"I will, Rashelle. Good night."

I blew out the candle and stood in the darkness. After a time, my eyes adjusted. Light leaking under the two doors allowed me to navigate the room. I moved to the corner I had chosen before.

I was now stationed partially behind a wall screen. This wall screen was close to the door that led to Barenziah's bedroom. The door on the opposite side of the room led to the rest of the castle. Assassins would have to enter though that door.

I slipped on my chameleon ring and waited. I was patient; I was focused.

After some time the far door opened. Three figures entered. They were dressed in dark brotherhood armor. Hadn't I gotten rid of them?

"That's the door there, then," one muttered.

"let's just get this over with, OK?"

I would think that real Dark Brotherhood would be silent during a job. These men had the voices of Imperials. Every dark brotherhood assassin that I had slain had been a Dunmer ... mostly male, some female, but all Dunmer.

I darted out and slew one with Chrysamere. The other two put up more of a fight. I dodged a jinkblade and turned to parry another. I continued my turn so that I spun around. Thus enabled me to kick one of them. He flew across the room.

A jinkblade cut into my arm. My birth-sign absorbed the paralyze spell and I ran my attacker through with Chrysamere.

I had not yet extracted the blade when the other assassin recovered from his flight. He sprang at me. I used the body of his late associate to block the attack.

I spun around and I kicked him in the chest.

Chrysamere finally free, I dispatched him.

I waited silently: I was listening to see if there were any more.

Nothing happened.

My arm was now really hurting. I took a healing potion. I cast Night eye and searched the bodies. There were no papers or signet rings or any other identification: just three dead Imperial men in Dark Brotherhood armor.

Just to be on the safe side, I stayed the rest of the night. There were no further attacks.

Hmm, you got me interested in those assassins now. The way you described them, they sound like some small thugs who've been picked from the streets and dressed up in DB armour.


And I can totally agree with [3]. I don't have any expansion yet I'm still writing Bloodmoon, sort of. Things like the UESP rock!

Yeah: in the game the assassins are Dunmer males but the three that attack B's room are Imperials. This is never really explained in the game.

By now you can probably pick up both expansions (or just get the GOTY version) almost for nothing. If only for the tile sets and other modding resources, you should get them. Also, with bloodmoon installed you can then play Lokken!

Very nice addition, even if you misspelled Almalexia twice.

About the assassins: Since the Dark Brotherhood is not a purely Dunmer guild, it is possible that the assassins that tried to kill Barenziah do belong to the Dark Brotherhood. And the ones in the sewers were probably all Dunmer because this is Morrowind, their home. And since you Rashelle already killed the ones beneath Mournhold, the new ones were likely sent from another province.

Just my two cents, keep up the good work!

Oops. Thank you. Found and fixed. Her name is the hardest one to type out of all of these twisty Morrowind names.

Ahhh! i like the way you depict Helseth! You let him speak in second person...that is sooo royal! Also I found a quote that I fell for..



So Rashelle-ish!

I have decided..I´ll write a Tribunal-sequel ...that is..I´ll use the charachters but not necessarily all the plots!

He does it in the game so I had to Plus it gives Rashelle something to remark upon. And it is fun to write his dialog.

Your idea is cool. Since it would take place after the events in the game you could make it a less bleak story and you could still use some of the funnier side-quests ... oh but please please finish Serene's story first. I need to know what happens.

p.s. - I have no story update today: maybe tomorrow. Today I got inspired and worked on chapter 8 ... but the problem is, I need to write chapters 6 and 7 still - doh!

Chapter 6. Attack



After breakfasting with Barenziah, I reported the events of the night to Helseth.

"We are thankful for this service you have performed for us and the Queen Mother."

I began to wish that the king would heed his Orc agent's advice on the weaker tea.

"We would like you to further prove your mettle by dueling our champion, Karrod."

He gestured to a Redguard man in a set of Royal Guard Armor that lacked only a helm.

"Pardon?" I said to him.

"Rashelle, in a days time we wish you prove your strength and abilities by fighting Karrod, our champion."

I looked to the Redguard again. He remained expressionless and silent.

"Karrod does not speak. I met him when he was a child. He was trying to steal from me," explained Helseth. "The audacity of this mute child impressed me and I took him in and had him trained. Karrod is now a master of all melee weapons. He is the most loyal of my servants."

I see. It seemed to me that this test was pointless, as little things like removing that pesky Dagoth Ur should have established my credentials.

"This isn't to the death, is it?"

I didn't want to kill anyone.

"No," he said, mistaking my apprehension for eagerness, "it is until one of you yields."

I nodded. Good.

"Sire, why wait? I am ready now."

He raised an eyebrow. I flexed a bicep.

He looked towards Karrod. I did also.

Karrod shrugged.

"Very well then. We permit this to happen now. Remember. this is until one of you yields: It is not to the death. You may use any melee weapon and any spells."

Helseth stepped away from the throne. The guards all stepped back to the perimeter of the room. Karrod and I had the center of the room to ourselves.

I drew Chrysamere. He drew a rather strange-looking sword. The blade was was curved, yet not like a scimitar, and wide. The blade was spiky. The luster of the metal was unusual. It reminded me of Dwemer metal, save that it was not golden in hue.

He swung, I parried and the battle was on. We fought back and forth across the center of the room for some time, neither one of us getting through the other's guard. Helseth's statements had not been empty boasting: Karrod was good.

I darted in and hammered his cuirass with Chrysamere. Lesser armor would have split at the impact. I parried a swing and tried it again.

He parried and punched me with his other hand, right in the jaw. Stupid Rashelle: it's a one-handed blade so his other hand is free.

I kicked and his sword went spinning away. It narrowly missed a guard.

Instead of running for his weapon, he charged at me. I swung. He ducked under my swing and pulled one of my legs. As I fell I gave him a stiff kick with the other leg and he flew away from me. I slammed to the floor but was up again before he came back at me.

Chrysamere bounced off of his cuirass again and I followed that with a kick to the side of his head. This was risky on my part because it could have killed him. I did try to somewhat "pull" my kick, though.

He was down. I stomped a boot down on his cuirass and, shifting my grip from the hilt to the blade, placed the point of Chrysamere a fraction of an inch from his eye.

"Slap your hand on the floor if you yield."

He did so.

I lifted my blade and darted away. I wanted some distance in case he was going to be dishonorable about it.

He sat up and said; "I yield, friend Rashelle. I honor the terms of the duel."

I thought he didn't speak. I looked to Helseth and raised an eyebrow.

Helseth looked shocked.

I sheathed Chrysamere. I walked over to Karrod, who was grinning.

"Rashelle, that was amazing! No one has even beaten me before."

I held out a potion and said: "Karrod, please drink this healing potion."

He took it from my hand but hesitated.

"Karrod. I will not poison you: we are surrounded by witnesses. I kicked you in the head with an ebony boot and the effects of a blow to the head sometimes go unnoticed until later: please take the potion now."

He did.

One of the guards handed him his sword.

Karrod then held the sword out to me, hilt first.

"Rashelle, my father passed this sword on to me just as his father before him had. He said that someday, someone will come who will be the rightful owner of this blade. He ..." Karrod grinned and then continued, "... she will be the only one to beat me in a fair fight."

I was moved. I took the sword.

"Thank you Karrod."

I paused. I was not going to give up Chrysamere.

"I am sorry Karrod, but I have nothing to give you."

He smiled an even bigger smile.

"Friend Rashelle, do not fret. You have given me a glorious fight. You have fulfilled the prophecy of my family: my vow of public silence is lifted. This is a great day, thanks to you."

I extended my hand and helped him stand up. By "public silence" I assume he meant that in private circumstances he still spoke. Presumably he talked only to Helseth: I can imagine Helseth's joy back when he first discovered a servant who would only speak to him.

"We are impressed with your ability to best our champion," declared Helseth. "We may have other tasks for you at some later time."

I nodded and exited the throne room.

Having determined that Helseth was no longer trying to kill me, and having established suitable good will, realized that I no longer had a pressing reason to stay in Mournhold.

I wanted to study Karrod's blade but walking around with a drawn sword in the city is generally frowned upon. I left it wedged between my pack and the sheathed Chrysamere. It would have to wait until I arrived at my room in the Winged Guar. Once there, I also to intended to get some sleep: I had been up all night, after all

I walked through the Plaza Brindisi Dorom, idly studying the statue in the center as I headed in the direction of the door that led to Godsreach. The statue depicted a battle between Almalexia and a daedra prince but I could not recall which one.

I entered Godsreach and strolled along the general direction of the Winged Guar. The blue architecture was certainly pretty, but I was missing the drab yet familiar scenery of Vvardenfell.

I ran into Salas. He was in better humor today. Our conversation turned to his past and it turned out he had originally come from Vvardenfell. He had spent some time in Balmora before deciding the join the temple.

He was relating an amusing story about Ranis Athrys in the Mages Guild when I heard a commotion in the distance.

At first I could not tell were the sound was coming from. I could see nothing unusual in Godsreach itself.

From the door to the Plaza ran a naked Nord yelling something about "creatures" emerging from the ground.

Normally I would not believe anything a running naked Nord says but I could now tell that the noises were coming from that direction: it sounded like combat.

I ran to investigate.

Two more people emerged from the door before I reached it. I ran through and beheld an astounding sight.

The Plaza was under attack by creatures of a sort that I had never seen before. There were two types. The first type was long and thin and white. It seemed to be partially mechanical. It had a tail that was constructed of metal segments and its limbs looked mechanical as well. Its body did not look mechanical, however. The head was extended on a long thin neck. Its snout was topped by a large spike that it used with great effect as a weapon. It had spikes along its back.

The second type was thicker and heavier-looking. It was a dark dull maroon in color and it scuttled along like a crab. It had a spiked tail that it used as a weapon: lashing out with deceptive quickness to do great damage. I suppose it was more like a scorpion than a crab.

The royal guards and ordinators were fighting together against the creatures. I saw at least one dead guard already. It looked like the civilians had already all fled the plaza.

The statue in the middle now lay in several pieces. As I watched, another creature emerged from it: they were coming from underground, through a hole where the statue had been.

I drew Chrysamere and ran to join the fray. I did not know entirely what was going on but I could see that the creatures were hostile.

A royal guard was being set upon by two of the thinner type. Chrysamere bit into one of them before it realized I was there. Now that I was closer I could see metal rods that were part of the creature: they moved as it moved. I was reminded of Dwemer constructs, although these were not the usual golden metallic finish.

It swung to attack me and the guard used this opportunity to chop its long sinuous neck. Perfectly ordinary blood gushed from its neck as it fell.

The second creature clubbed the guard with its head. I slashed into its side. It gave a strange cry and turned towards me. The guard slashed its other side. The creature fell. I thrust through where I guessed its heart was located. The creature twitched once and was still.

I pulled my blade from the body. The guard and I nodded to each other and ran to help the other combatants.

An ordinator was being attacked by one of the heavier type. He tried to swing but the tail whipped forward with alarming speed and with a crack of breaking armor he went flying. I hit the creature with a fireball. The creature recoiled as if in pain but I saw no great effect from the fireball. I tried a frostball. The creature shook it off and scurried towards me.

One of the thinner creatures attacked from my side. I dodged it and Chrysamere struck. Through the corner of my eye I could see more creatures issuing forth from the hole where the statue had been.

An ordinator and a royal guard tore into the thin creature attacking me. The heavy creature reached me just about then: they were not as fast as the light ones. The average man or mer could outrun them.

I dodged the tail and slashed at the head. My sword connected but the creature was not significantly effected. The creature tried to strike me with a large foreleg. I dodged and slammed my blade into its head again.

That tail knocked me back. Stupid, Rashelle: keep an eye on that!

I rolled out of the way as the tail struck again. Pivoting one knee I managed to get another slash in. I cut one its forelegs off and dodged its tail again. I stood up and chopped down: successfully beheading the creature.

The heavy ones were definitely the tougher of the two types.

The combat continued. Eventually I noticed that there didn't seem to be any more coming up from the hole. In a short time we dispatched the remainder of them. The attack seemed to be over.

I gave potions to the wounded and then I examined a few of the creatures.

As I inspected the corpse of one of the white creatures, I noticed an object in one of its wounds: I reach in and extracted a vial. It had been embedded in the flesh. It looked exactly like an alchemy vial. I opened it and sniffed. It seemed to be an ordinary fortify speed potion. Why was it embedded in the flesh of a half machine creature?

I found another body and cut into it in the same area as in the previous one. There was a potion in this one as well. How very odd.

In the corpse of one of the creatures of the heavier type I also found a vial: this one was a simple yet powerful fortify strength potion.

Were the creatures supposed to dig into their own flesh to take a potion? It made no sense at all.

I stood up and placed the potions in my pack. I was about to go take a look into that hole but an ordinator asked me to go inform Fedris at the temple. That was a higher priority than poking around a hole so I cast Almsivi intervention.

I entered the Temple reception area and found Fedris. I told him what had occurred.

"Thank you Rashelle. A runner has already given me this news but I appreciate your effort. While you are here, there may be task you can for you could do for the Lady."

I nodded.

"From your description, and that of the runner, it seems these creatures are partially mechanical. I am wondering if they are some as yet undiscovered type of Dwemer construct.

"I would like you to descend into the hole in the plaza and and see where these creatures came from. Why did they come now, and not at any time during the the construction of the city or the centuries after?"

That was a really good question.

I nodded and was on my way.

Just caught up. I had a lot a material to go through I must. That's certainly not a bad thing though. You must be pretty quick to write these things when they're so big yet so frequent. I envy that because like three pages for me take like 3 hours (though I'm also working at the same time so that might affect that).

Anyways, lots of cool and interesting stuff has been happening. I like all of Rashelle's smartass remarks and all that. She definitely has a personality all to her own; which is immediately identifiable. I also must comment that Rashelle must have a room just filled with Restore Health Potions just because she seems to drink those suckers down as if they were water with all the danger she gets herself in.

Keep it up, I should be posting more frequently once more. You didn't lose this fan!

Thanks. Normally I don't write this fast. I gained a skill point or something.


In-game, when I open the inventory screen for her, she's got like 200+ homemade Restore Health potions. Wherever she goes, she is constantly on the lookout for marshmerrow, saltrice, corkbulb, corprus weepings and other Restore Health ingredients. Recall in chapter Two she brewed up several batches. However, since she did use even more than usual, in the next chapter I'll have her make more.

As for her personality and dialog: sometimes she surprises me and writes herself!


Thank you! Coolness!

Chapter 7. Ashes



I returned to the Plaza. Things seemed to have settled down to some new state of normalcy. Ordinators and Royal Guards warily avoided each other as they patrolled. People had returned to the plaza, probably out of curiosity.

An ordinator informed me that no one had gone down the hole even though someone had produced a ladder.

I ascended the base of the statue and looked down. The hole appeared entirely black in contrast to the sunlight.

I cast Night Eye and then put a foot on the ladder. I then descended.

The ladder terminated in a sort of rock bridge in a small cave. The floor of the cave was still deeper and was obscured by running water. Presumably the water supply for the fountain in the Plaza was now leaking down, possibly forming a new underground river. Faint lighting was provided by some luminous mushrooms.

The rock bridge that I was standing on led to a passage in the north wall. I put on my chameleon ring and carefully followed the passage.

It turned to the right and downwards.

After a time it opened up into emptiness.

Actually it was a rather large room but my first impression was that of infinity. The actual floor of the room was a long way down: I was standing in a hole in the wall that must have been excavated by the creatures.

Large pillars supported the ceiling and one or two of them had collapsed in such as way as to provide a means of ascent from the floor to the passage.

Speaking of creatures, I saw some down below. They were fighting with ... "regular" Dwemer constructs, the type 1 and type 2 animalcules as well as the bipedal steam centurions.

Some of these centurions were larger than the others ... perhaps they were some advanced type not found in the Dwemer ruins up in Vvardenfell?

The fact that the Dwemer robots were fighting the creatures suggested to me that they were not of Dwemer origin. Also, as Fedris had said, the Dwemer ruins had been here for centuries and no Dwemer machinery had ever come up before.

So if these were not Dwemer creatures, whose were they?

It looked like the Dwemer robots were winning: yay for the Dwemer. Of course, I was also viewed as an intruder. This fact was brought home to me as a projectile whizzed by my ear.

I ducked back into the passage for a moment. I then slowly crawled back. I edged my head carefully past the hole and saw what I had not noticed before: some of what I thought were regular "type 2" sphere centurions were actually of a new type that I had not seen before: their spheres opened up in a different way and, more importantly, they were capable of shooting some sort of Dwemer darts. I dubbed this new type the "centurion archer".

I sneaked back a few feet and found a dart. This was the one that had missed me just before. I picked it up and examined it. It was actually a bit large to be thought of as a dart: it was more a throwing dagger. There were no enchantments nor poison on it. It had that characteristic golden metal look of all Dwemer manufacture.

I touched the edge lightly and immediately blood emerged from my finger: the dart was wickedly sharp. I could see that hits from just a few of these would easily cut someone apart.

I had ascertained that the creatures that had attacked the Plaza were not of the Dwemer.

I retraced my route to the cave with the ladder and then ascended to the Plaza. The ordinators and royal guards cheered as I emerged. This last almost made me want to dart back into the hole: it was most unexpected.

"It's a Dwemer ruin," I said. "There were some more of these ... things ..."

I pointed to one of the corpses that still littered the Plaza before continuing, "... down there but they have been cut down by the various centurions. Apparently they are not Dwemer."

I returned to the temple and presented Fedris with this news.

"Most interesting. Unless they attack again I guess we will never know what it was all about."

I nodded.

"In the mean time, the Lady wishes to speak to you."

I nodded and headed for Almalexia's chamber.

She was as she had been before. Maybe these former gods/goddesses were able to live without sleep?

"Rashelle, I am concerned about the End Of Times cult."

"Pardon?"

"They are a cult who are at odds with the temple."

Like the Dissident Priests had been? This time I had the sense to remain silent.

"There have been several suicides around Mournhold. My agents indicate that they may have been members of this new cult. They apparently recruit people and then somehow convince them to kill themselves. I must protect my people, Rashelle. This danger must be stopped."

I nodded.

"Rashelle: find Eno Romari and stop him. Do not kill him. If you kill him, he will be seen as a martyr and his cult will grow. I do not want that."

I nodded and went on my way.

I did not think that there was a great urgency to this mission so I returned to my room at the Winged Gaur to catch up on some needed sleep.

When I awoke I realized that recent events had drained my stock of Restore Health potions: it was time to make more. As I had not yet found a vender in Mournhold who carried the necessary ingredients in bulk, I returned to Vvardenfell.

Only when I had made several batches and stowed them in my pack did I return to Mournhold.

I returned to Mournhold and began my investigation into the matter of the End Of Times cult. I spoke with several people and eventually the picture began to emerge. The suicides were part of a new death cult, as Almalexia had said. The leader (and only surviving member?) of this cult was indeed Eno Romari. He was a Dunmer and was often found in the Godsreach area, preaching to the gullible.

There are always the gullible. A madman is nothing without fools to follow him.

Salas had heard of Eno.

"Yeah, I've seen him here in Godsreach. He's a tall Dunmer in a white robe that could use a cleaning. I don't want to get involved in that, Rashelle: he could be right for all we know. He's not breaking the law so do not pester me about this again!"

I frowned.

"I'm sorry Rashelle, it's just ... argh, no ... I cannot speak of that."

I wished I could help. Something was bothering him and had been for some time. If he didn't find a way to deal with it soon, he'd go nuts.

I bid him good day and continued my search.

Ironically enough, Eno was standing just outside of the Winged Gaur. His robe indeed could use a cleaning. He was preaching to a Bosmer and a Dunmer woman. I strode toward them.

The Bosmer said "Guar patties" and turned away.

The Dunmer woman also turned away, rolling her eyes. I could not help but grin.

"Are you Eno Romari?" I said.

"Yes, my child, have you come to hear the truth."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Nerevarine, certainly someone such as yourself who has experienced the practical side of religion would be more open minded."

I nodded.

"The daedra are not our ancestors. They do not seek to protect us. Man and Mer are their playthings. The Tribunal are weakening and can no longer protect us. Sotha Sil had made no public appearance in centuries. Almalexia and Vivec also have become more reclusive. Their powers have faded."

I had to concede that Eno had things spot-on so far. With the Heart gone, the Tribunal were mortal. I had never trusted the daedra, save for Azura. They were strange creatures, different from mortals in motivation and thought.

"The time is coming soon when the daedra will break through the barrier and descend into Nirn to ravage the land."

I recalled reading of a pact between Sotha Sil and the Daedra Princes ... but that had been a long time ago. Perhaps with the loss of the Heart's power, that pact was no longer binding .

"Members participate in the The Cleansing. They go ahead to join our ancestors. They will serve to protect us in the coming battle with the daedra."

I began to realize what he meant. The Dunmer had always practiced ancestor worship. They believed that the spirits of departed family members still watched over them. Having raided many a tomb I had encountered enough of them to believe this.

What Eno was advocating was that they bring on more ancestor spirits before the daedra made their move. It had a certain logic to it, but it involved suicide and it would not work.

"You are telling people to kill themselves to fight the daedra."

He looked away.

"You have no way of knowing if that will work. You Dunmer have centuries of ancestors lurking about. They don't have much power compared to daedra, Eno: I've fought enough of them to know this. Your idea will not work!"

"You do not know what you are talking about." he retorted.

"Eno, look at me. You know who I am. You know of some of the things I have experienced. I have spoken with the dead. I have fought daedra. Have you?"

"Well ... "

"Let me ask you this: have you been contacted by anyone who has gone through this Cleansing of yours."

"Well, I uh ..."

He stopped. I waited. Eventually I realized he was not going to say anything.

"Eno. The answer to that question is 'yes' or 'no'. Have any of the people you sent to die come back and talked to you?"

He was silent. He would not answer me.

"The answer is 'no', isn't it? You talked those people into killing themselves for no reason, didn't you?"

He nodded, then looked down at the ground.

"Eno you must stop preaching of the end of times."

"I will."

Something in the tone of his voice gave me a suspicion that he was planning to do something very stupid.

"Eno?"

"Yes?"

"Do not kill yourself."

"I must atone."

Yes, I had guessed correctly.

"If you do that, you will become a martyr. More will kill themselves in your name. It could go on for years. How many more will die? You cannot take back the deaths you have caused but you can prevent further deaths, and to do this you must remain alive."

Sadly, he nodded.

Good.

I returned to Almalexia.

"I have spoken to Eno Romari. He now knows the error of his ways and has stopped preaching. And, Almalexia; he sincerely regrets the deaths. He really will not be a problem again."

"This is very good news. You have handled the matter discretely and with mercy."

I beamed.

"Rashelle, tell me more though of his false beliefs."

"His former beliefs were that the daedra were going to enter Nirn and wreak destruction. He was concerned that the Tribunal were weakening. He wrongly thought that ... "

"ENOUGH!"

Her anger was terrible to witness. Her eyes glowed. You would never know from merely looking at her that she was no longer a goddess.

"They would dare...? So, the Tribunal has lost its power, has it? These fools would dare question Almalexia's power, here in her city! I will give them a lesson in power, Rashelle, and you will be my agent."

In her hand materialized a Dwemer coherer. It looked unlike others I had seen in that it had a glow deep in its center. I had heard from some savants the theory that coherors were some sort of power source for ancient Dwemer machinery, a source in addition to the steam power that most "surviving" Dwemer devices used.

Where had she obtained a "charged" Dwemer coherer?

"Recently discovered records indicate that there is a weather machine in Bamz-Amschend, the Dwemer city beneath the Plaza. You will take this coherer and use it to activate the machine. You will then call ash storms down on Mournhold. I do not know how to do this so you will gave to figure it out. The people will then know that I have commanded the ash storms and will realize the full strength of my power."

I hesitated.

"Take the coherer. In these troubled times, faith is all that sustains the people. They must not doubt the Tribunal now. All that we have built up over the last thousand years will be for nothing. This show of power is necessary. It must be done."

I took the coherer.

"Thank you Rashelle. Return to me when Mournhold has ash storms."

I nodded and departed.

I descended once again into the ruins below the Plaza, which I now knew was named "Bamz-Amschend."

This time I dispatched the centurion archers with some of the darts I had obtained from the Black Dart gang. I then levitated down and fought the remaining robots with my usual methods.

I discovered that the larger, more advanced, steam centurions were somehow enchanted with the Reflect spell. I learned rapidly not to cast spells at them. I decided to call them "advanced centurions".

From the centurion archers I extracted a nice collection of those dagger-like Dwemer darts. My skill with bows is absolutely horrid but whatever I throw goes where I intend it to. I was sure they would prove useful in the future.

I walked through a long series of twisty areas. The architecture here was so different from the other ruins I was used to, back in Vvardenfell. This seemed strange to me. After a time I thought about how different the architecture was in the various places back home: compare Redoran to Telvanni and one will find nothing in common. The Dwemer must have had different regional architectural styles, just as we do today.

I saw small piles of ash here and there. Often they were accompanied by weapons or pieces of armor. Some of them were on benches ... where people would normally sit. Had there been an epidemic of spontaneous combustion at this facility?

I found myself walking in an area where the corridor sort of swelled up to a larger size. There were large things in the ceiling, each comprised of four outstretched fins or wings. These things were spinning.

I saw some tables: they had the usual miscellaneous Dwemer bric-a-brac on them. On the benches were more ash piles. I dispatched the centurion sphere here and moved on.

The corridor returned to normal size and continued to wind its way along. At one point it ramped down into a section with ankle-high water. I surprised a centurion archer here and killed it quickly.

This entered into another wide section of corridor. There was a waterfall running down one of the walls. It issued from a break near the ceiling. I wonder where this water was coming from; a leak the fountain in the Plaza or from some other source?

There were more of the 4-bladed rotating things in the ceiling and there was also a steam centurion. I smashed the centurion and continued.

At the end of the corridor was a door. I opened it and waded through.

I was in an absolutely huge dome. The dome had no proper floor save for a platform that ran around its entire perimeter. This is what I was standing on. Looking down and past the perimeter I could see water. It was too dark to see in the water but perhaps the room was actually a sphere.

In the center was a platform and on it was either a building or some kind of machinery. From the platform radiated pipes or beams that connected it to the perimeter. From above, it would look like a gargantuan wagon wheel.

The water flowing past at my feet made it difficult for me to close the door behind me: I was fighting the current.

The tinkling of a Dwemer dart striking the wall not far from me brought my attention to more immediate matters. I threw some darts from my collection and I saw the centurion archer fall from the beam into the water.

I heard the metallic stomping sound of an advanced steam centurion; a few darts and he was stilled.

I looked up and saw that there were actually stalactites hanging from the ceiling.

I carefully walked along one of the beams to the center platform. The building or machine centered on this platform was surrounded by four large upright spikes or towers. Somehow the area was lit by a directionless yellow glow.

I walked around the center machine and saw a break in the pattern: there was not a beam connected to that side of the platform. In its place jutted a short square platform on which were three levers and another small ash pile.

Somehow I knew this was the weather machine.

I pulled on one of the levers and nothing happened.

There was a coherer partially stuck into the side of the center "building". It seemed obvious what I had to do now: I removed it and in its place put the charged coherer.

I heard a faint whining sound and my feet felt a vibration in the metal floor as machinery that had lain dormant for a thousand years became active.

People nowadays have nothing good to say about the Dwemer, but I wonder what they had really been like. I would have liked to have seen them as they were in their heyday, with the strange machinery, their "airships", "walkers" and whatever other miracles they had that are now lost to time.

I tugged one of the levers.

There was a deep creaking sound and a section of the dome wall that my platform faced began to change. It had had a picture of some sort but I had not paid attention to it. Now that picture slid to the side and disappeared, to be replaced by a series of pictures. Eventually it stopped at another picture.

How odd. I tugged another lever, the pictures moved sideways the other way. the movement stopped and a third picture was there.

With the distance of the wall and the darkness of the room I could not make out what it was supposed to depict.

I cast a Light spell and this allowed me to see that it was a depiction of ... rain.

It was becoming clearer to me now: the combination of the three levers selected the weather type and the huge wall-picture indicated what weather had been chosen.

I pulled and pushed the levers in random combinations. I tried to imagine what it would be like on the surface, with weather changing rapidly between wild extremes.

In a short time I stumbled into the combination for ash storms.

I cast Almsivi Intervention and was teleported to the surface, near the entrance to the Temple.

The wind howled and the air was thick with ashes.

Another involved update; lots of stuff happening. I especially liked how Rashelle dealth with Eno. It almost seemed like she was scolding a child for acting foolish, which I thought was pretty neat.

I also like all these little meetings with Salas. It's stuff like this that'll make a certain event in the future that much more interesting as now I curious on how the relationship built between Salas and Rashelle will effect this coming event.

Also, where's Gaenor!? You'd think he'd be back by now, pissed off and ready to throw down!

P.S - I got a kick outta this line:

Bloody great stuff. (Without the blood, that is.)

Heh, I see that Rashelle's potion love isn't merely a literary thing. 200+ homemade potions, now that's what I call dedication. They do come in handy though. Me, I never bothered with alchemy and always stuck to spells, something I regretted during some particularry nasty situations. I guess it's a side-effect of my character build. Battlemage, heavily leaning towards the battle part.


I wonder if Rashelle is beginning to start doubting Almalexia's intentions. I mean, it is quite obvious that she is in denial.
,,My powers have brought the ashstorms upon you!" Umm, ashstorms are a Dagoth Ur thing. By that extension, I'm also a bit surprised that a Dwemer machine would be able to call up ashstorms. (Or maybe it is cheating. Make a really big forge, burn a lot of things, then use fans to blow the resulting ash into the air. Presto, one ashstorm. Similar with the rain. There was a lot of water around, and some piping. By that extension, the ashstorm could actually be a simple forge-cleaning mechanism. Wow, my theory is going odd. )

Glad you picked up on that. I thought I was being too subtle. It's difficult to write a character who is in denial ... or perhaps just unclear. In the previous (Lokken) story, Rashelle was always sure and always arrived at the correct conclusion ... not this time.

To the best of my shaky lore knowledge, ash storms in Vvardenfell are a natural part of the Ashlands and I think also the Molag Mar region. Blight Storms were created by Dagoth Ur.

Your weather machine theory there sounds like a possible addition for your Agent fanfic.

@ metal mallet:

Both questions answered in the next chapter ... coming up.

Chapter 8. The End Of Valor



I continued to marvel at the ash storms. Surely such a miracle would indeed convince people of the power of Almalexia and of the Tribunal.

I turned, intending to walk to the temple entrance, when a Bosmer in a full set of ebony armor approached me and blocked my way.

"Ha, Rashelle! I have made some money and have been successful in my adventures. Now I will make you pay for messing with me."

From his voice, I recognized him as that obnoxious little scrib, Gaenor. He drew his sword. It was an ebony longsword: from that and his armor it was apparent that fortune had indeed been kind to him in a mere few days.

I tapped Chrysamere's sheath and said, "Mine is bigger than yours. Your move, little mer."

He came at me. He swung. Quick as thought, I whipped out Chrysamere and parried.

With a vicious chop I tried to decapitate him, helm or no helm. That is what I had planned but a pebble or some ash shifted under my foot: my sword bounced off of one of his pauldrons.

I parried his swing and Chrysamere was knocked out of my hands. What were the odds of that?

The I realized was happening. The fetcher had some sort of Fortify Luck spell; a powerful one.

Crap.

He laughed and said; "You should run now."

Normally that would be a good idea but with that freakish luck on his side it I was not so sure. I rushed him instead. He had luck on his side but I had surprise on mine. I knocked him flat on his back and I had one hand around his sword-hand.

With the other hand I hit him with a frost spell. It reflected back at me: more of his luck. Fortunately I have an affinity to cold so all I got out of it was a cool breeze. I cast the same spell again. Again it reflected. He was strong for a little guy and that sword kept getting too close to me. I shook icicles from my head and cast the same spell again and this time it worked. He screamed.

He tried to dislodge me by rolling. I used the inertia to continue the roll, smashing his sword-hand on the paving stones. It didn't break his wrist (he was too lucky for that) but it did cause him to release his sword. It didn't fly very far so I ran and scooped it up.

Feeling an almost berserker-like wave of anger, I returned to the offensive, chopping and slashing at him with short rapid strokes. Because of his luck most of them didn't do any damage but they kept him off-balance.

He slipped but as the lucky fetcher fell he accidently kicked me and sent me flying back.

As luck would have it, what he had slipped on was Chrysamere and now he had it in his hands. Not good.

I summoned a frost atronach. Luck could only take one so far; now he had two to fight. The atronach and I simultaneously hit him with frost bolts.

Again we both cast.

Somehow Gaenor's luck didn't seem to hold up so well against simultaneous casts of the same spell from two different sources.

I stepped back a few paces as I cast. He could now reach neither me nor my atronach. He smashed through the ice that had formed around him. Being lucky, he seemed undamaged by the frost, but it had kept him immobile and on the defensive long enough for my atronach to run out of magicka.

I hit Gaenor with another frost bolt and then I ran.

He tried to come after me but the atronach had other ideas. I stopped and watched. He was lucky; only one in six of the blows the atronach dealt him got through, but that was enough. He was dead.

I looked around. No bystanders had been hurt: good. I retrieved Chrysamere and also took Gaenor's sword. I found an enchanted amulet but it shattered when I touched it: the cold had been too much for it.

I headed for the temple to bring Almalexia the good news.

She was pleased to hear it.

"Rashelle, you have done very well. Your efforts have been of great help to the Tribunal."

She paused and then said; "I trust that the details of this matter will remain a secret for the good of my people."

I nodded.

"As a reward, I will grant you a power. Would you like the strength of an Ogrim, skin resistant to damage, or resistance to paralysis?"

Interesting choices.

"Be quick, Rashelle!" she shouted.

"Resistance to paralysis," I said, startled.

She gestured and I felt magic work within me.

"Rashelle, I have another task for you. One of my most faithful guards, one of my very own Hands of Almalexia, pledged to honor and protect and serve me in all ways, has lost his mind.

"Salas Valor was once my most trusted Hand and faithful servant. But recently his behavior has been erratic. He has been quiet and unresponsive. I am afraid ... I may have allowed him to come too close. It is impossible that a mortal and a god might meet on equal ground, but ... perhaps he had deluded himself. I regret his lamentable state, and am sorry that I may have been partly responsible for his condition.

"I had hoped that distancing him would help. I had him demoted to High Ordinator and gave him duties in Godsreach. This has not helped. He is unstable. I pity him, and know he is not responsible for his actions. To view the splendor of a god may drive even the strongest mortal mad."

That explained why he had always avoided talking about her.

"Rashelle, find my missing Hand. He presents a threat to the people, and he is very dangerous. I fear you may not be able to spare his life."

I nodded and I was on my way. I left the Temple and through the ash storm I walked.

I did not plan to kill Salas. I would come up with some sort of plan where I would somehow get him quietly out of town. I would then tell Almalexia that he had been killed. I had used this method to get around the straightforward assassins duties that Ranis Athrys at the Balmora Mages Guild used to give me. A blood-thirsty woman, that one.

I paused to ask one of the ordinators about the "missing Hand".

"Someone wearing the Armor of the Hands of Almalexia has been walking around Godsreach muttering to himself and acting strangely. Is that who you are looking for? Look out, I wouldn't want to tangle with one of Almalexia's personal guards in a bad mood."

I nodded, thanked him and continued on my way. I had not really needed to ask about Salas: I spoke to him every day. I was procrastinating.

I arrived at Godsreach and soon I saw him.

"Salas, I need to talk to you"

"So she sent you, didn't she?"

How did he know?

"She used me for her pleasures, cast me aside for the next one. Now I am no longer necessary"

Now I understood. He must mean Almalexia. She had mentioned something about bringing Salas in "too close". She must have taken Salas as a lover when he was a Hand.

"Salas, don't worry. I can get you out of town. You'll be safe. Then I'll tell her I killed you. It will be OK."

"No!" he screamed, "you won't get me."

He drew his scimitar.

"Salas, please no, I want to help you!"

He attacked. I dodged his first swing.

"Salas, don't do this. I can save you!"

He swung again. I ducked and rolled and came up with Chrysamere in my hand.

He stopped.

"Please, Salas," I shouted. "I can help you. I don't intend to kill you. I can take you to Ebonheart. She won't be able to reach you there. It will be OK."

He swung. I parried.

I realized I now had no choice. He was going to try to kill me and nothing I could do would change this: I could die or I could kill him.

The battle went on for some time.

I won.

I knelt by the body. I came as close to crying as I had in my entire life. I never cry: at a young age I had learned of the essential uselessness of such activity. I grimly wiped Chrysamere on a clean cloth that I had in my pack: I could not bring myself to wipe the blade on Salas's clothing.

One of the ordinators approached me.

"Nerevarine, we'll take it from here." he said in a slightly gentler voice than usual.

"He was my friend."

"He was mad. It had to be done."

I glared at him for a moment and almost said "then why didn't you do it?" but then I remembered that as a former Hand, Salas could have easily taken on any five High Ordinators.

I looked away and said, "There should have been another way."

Casting flame from my hands I burned the cloth to ashes. They joined the ash storm.

"There is nothing you can do here," the ordinator said, not unkindly.

He gently put a hand on my shoulder and said: "You should go."

He was right. I stood up.

I had killed many people in my life. They had been evil. Many had tried to kill me. Some had served the sixth house, or had been predators intent on my death or the death of innocents. Some of them had been assassins and some had been murderous bullies. The world was a better place without them.

This time it had been different. While I had acted in self defense, I just could not help but feel that I had killed a friend because Almalexia had tired of him.

Ah, at last she understands Almalexia. I truly wished she had been able to find another way; he seemed like a good man. Thanks for giving us such an emotional connection to Salas.

My sentiments too. Great work blockhead!

Blockie!!! I'm away for a couple of days and what do I find? Three updates ! You post like a ravishing maniac!! Lovely updates they are anyway...Rash is a strong woman, yet able to show feeliings, I like that! Hmm I was hoping she would have managed to solve the thing with Salas in a nicer way! She deserves some love or at least some soft feelings . A relationship with someone mmmmm, that would be good for her, so her heart doesn't turn into stone...

Great story Blockie....great story

I like how you built up Sasal through the conversations he had with Rashelle. It makes his end that more gripping.

Aww shucks.


I also like that.


That was my exact feeling when I first played this part of the Tribunal main quest. In the game, there is no way to save him. This upset me at the time and still bothers me now.


Yes she is more than deserving. She does eventually find love, but not in this story.


Thank you.

Chapter 9. Pieces Of The Blade




I did not want to return to Almalexia. However, I am honorable: when I promise to do something, I do it. An implicit component of this task was that I would inform her of its completion.

With a heavy heart, I entered Almalexia's chamber. I looked up at her and said; "He's dead."

"Rashelle, it saddens me greatly to hear this ... but you you did what was necessary. He was mad. He would have hurt innocent people. To view the splendor of a god may drive even the strongest mortal mad."

I looked down at the floor.

"But you are not just a mortal," she said, "You are the Nerevarine, reborn."

I looked up at her questioningly.

"Nerevar, do you remember you were once my ... husband?"

She reached out and stroked my cheek. I froze in astonishment.

"Mmmmm, I think I prefer you as a woman."

She brushed a finger along my jawline and then withdrew her hand.

"Nerevar reborn, you are to rule at my side. Together again, we shall rule Morrowind and lead our people. We shall free Morrowind from the Imperial yoke. First you must recover your blade. Recall the two magical ever-burning swords Trueflame and Hopesfire, created for us by the Dwemer smith Dumac? Hopesfire I still have in my possession. Trueflame was lost at Red mountain but I sense that the pieces of it are now here in Mournhold. Seek them out and re-forge the blade. Then you shall ascend to my side."

She held out a piece of metal. Mutely, I took it.

"That is one piece of the blade that has come into my possession. Seek the others. Find a craftsman here in Mournhold to forge the pieces of the blade. Come back to me when Trueflame is whole and burns again."

Numbly, I nodded. I turned and staggered away.

I stumbled into the temple reception area. From a great distance I heard Fedris Hler say "Rashelle, are you all right?".

I saw the floor leap at me and I knew no more.



I woke in another blue room. The Dunmer woman leaning over me informed me that I was in the temple infirmary.

"Sera, you collapsed after leaving Almalexia's chamber."

Oh yeah.

I had had enough. I wasn't going to be the next Salas Valor. Things had gotten out of control. It was too much for me. I wanted it all to go away. I sat up groggily.

Nothing was keeping me in Mournhold, so I would return to Vvardenfell. The Dwemer coherer would eventually run out and the ash storms would stop. The mortal Almalexia could rot in her temple all by herself for all I cared.

"Clear the way!" shouted a voice.

I turned my head to see two temple acolytes bearing a litter with an older Dunmar on it. He was making choking noises and his eyes were rolling. The veins stood out in his neck.

The woman who had been attending to me turned and ran towards the choking Mer. She cast a spell just as he became silent. A growing horror stole over me as I watched them try to revive him. He was dead.

"What happened?" I asked ... but I already knew,

"It's the ash storms. People are not used to them here like they are in Vvardenfell. He suffocated."

That was a horrible way to die.

I had caused this to happen when I had activated the weather machine.

I could not leave now. I had to stop the ash storms. I stood up. I was wobbly, but it would have to do.

"Sera, you are suffering from exhaustion! You must rest."

"Not going to happen," I said as I fetched a Restore Fatigue potion from my pack.

I gulped it down.

"I've got urgent things to do." I said. "You have no idea. I cannot stay."

"I can tell you have been burning the candle at both ends. your body needs rest."

"It's burn or be snuffed out," I said as I replaced the sheathed Chrysamere on my back.

"You adventurers are all alike."

I put on my pack, wedged Karrod's blade in place, and left.



"Rashelle," said Almalexia sternly, "you cannot already have the blade in this short time. Why are you here?"

"A mer in the temple infirmary has just died from the ash storm. The storms are killing people. We have to stop the weather machine."

"No Rashelle. The people need to understand the consequences of doubting my powers. The ash storms will remain."

"Almalexia, please. You would kill your own people?"

"Rashelle," she hissed loudly, "Do not question me! I am a goddess. Do not come back until you have found and re-forged Trueflame."

"Who cares about some stupid Dwemer flamey sword," I shouted, "You're killing people!"

I was caught completely by surprise when her hand lashed out.

I picked myself off of the floor, wiping blood from my lip, utterly astounded. Hitting me was the last thing I had expected her to do.

"Do not come back until you have Trueflame."

I left.



Through the swirling ashes I made my way to the Plaza. Once again I entered the Dwemer city of Bamz-Amschend. I retraced my previous route through the twisty corridors, occasionally fighting whatever animunculi I had missed the last time through.

I heard the sound of water: I was nearing my destination. This farce would end now: I was going to turn off the weather machine and smash the coherer. The ash storms would stop.

The corridor turned and descended. Once again I was in the ankle deep water ... though it was a few inches deeper now.

I stopped.

A glowing wall of light blocked the corridor. It resembled the Ghostfence as it had been before the death of Dagoth Ur. I stepped up to it and put a hand out. I could not push my hand through. I stepped back, drew Chrysamere, and took a swing. Silently the sword rebounded from the wall.

This was Almalexia's doing. She had somehow blocked access to the weather machine. The ash storms would not be stopped.

"You ... S'WIT!"

I turned away and began to walk.

I entered the wider section of corridor with the tables and the benches. I sat down to collect my thoughts. I would now have to do this her way. I would have to somehow find the pieces of a Dwemer flaming sword that had been lost a thousand years ago.

From my pack I took the one piece which Almalexia had given me. I set it on the table and looked at it for a time. It had the quality of Dwemer metal, yet was not golden colored. Then I reached back and pulled Karrod's blade from where I had wedged it.

I put it next to the piece from Almalexia. They were of the same metal. Did I imagine a spark fly between them?

I hadn't asked for a miracle, yet I had just received one: I had two pieces of the blade.

I stowed the two pieces and cast Almsivi intervention.

The other day I had bought some armor repair tools from the two smiths in the Craftsman's Hall in Godsreach. Through the ash storms I walked there.

The Dunmer, Bols Indalen, was going on about some custom armor or something. Yagak Gro-gluk's eyes lit up when he saw Karrod's blade so I focused my attention on him.

"I need to have an old Dwemer blade remade. These are two of the pieces. Can you do that?"

"Let me see."

I handed him the pieces. He examined them, turning them this way and that.

"Hmmm."

I waited. He turned each piece over again.

"I can do this, but I can tell that this is not all of it. You may not need all of the original pieces, but you need more than what you have here."

He handed them back to me.

"Yagak, I have heard that there are more pieces somewhere in Mournhold right now. Do you know how I could go about finding them?"

"Well, there is always the Museum Of Artifacts here in Godsreach. I expect they would be knowledgeable about old Dwemer weaponry and they might even have a piece from this sword."

I nodded.

"Plitinius Mero the writer may know something. He's usually at the palace."

I remembered that Barenziah had mentioned him.

Since the Museum was closer, I went there.

I entered. The place seemed rather sparse for a museum. Perhaps the artifacts were away to be cleaned. There was a Dunmer woman standing not far from the door. Her eyes lit up and she said "Ooooo, is that Chrysamere?"

"Such a pleasure to meet you," I said. "What was your name again?"

"Oh, yes, err, pardon me sera. I lost my manners in the excitement."

Her eyes rested on a spot a few inches to the side of my head, where Chrysamere's hilt was. She licked her lips. I put a hand on my sword ... protectively.

"I am Torasa Aram, curator. Welcome to the Mournhold Museum Of Artifacts."

That was more like it.

"I'm Rashelle."

I showed the two pieces to her.

"These are two pieces from the ancient Dwemer sword Trueflame. I am looking for the rest of it. Might you have knowledge of this?"

She took one of them and examined it. She turned it over and over in her hands ... was she caressing it?

"Mmmmmm: such an interesting metal."

"Indeed," I said impatiently, "Have you seen its like?"

"It would make such a beautiful sword, it would ... so very beautiful."

"That is my attention, sera," I said as I gently but firmly retrieved the piece from her hands, "but I need to find the remaining pieces in order to accomplish that. Can you help me?"

"Well, I err," she paused to clear her throat. "That is, I may have something in the storeroom with this particular metal. Please wait here."

I nodded and she hurried away.

As I waited I idly wandered around the room. I nodded to the ordinators there. The contents of my Balmora house would probably make Torasa's head spin.

She returned bearing a Dwemer shield.

I raised an eyebrow.

"Sera, it is not just a regular shield: note the spike here."

She was right. From the center of the shield jutted a spike which could be used both to turn incoming blades and as an offensive weapon in its own right. While the shield was the usual golden Dwemer metal, the spike had the Dwemer yet silverly appearance of the two pieces already in my possession.

"I cannot give this to you," she said.

I drew Gaenor's ebony longsword, which I had been wearing sheathed at my side.

The ordinators drew their scimitars.

I held the sword by the blade, holding the hilt towards Torasa. The ordinators sheathed their weapons.

"I can trade you this ebony longsword for it."

She shook her head, "while that is a fine blade ... yes indeed ... very fine ... it is not a unique Artifact. It would be of no use in our collection."

I sighed and sheathed it.

"Sera, what will you accept for that shield?"

"I think if you were to donate two unique items to the museum, I could perhaps part with it."

She recited a list of several famous artifacts that the museum desired. Chrysamere was included in that list, naturally.

"I shall be back, sera. By your leave I will teleport out."

"Oh yes, go ahead. I'll be here."

I Recalled to my house in Balmora. Musing that it was a good thing that I was a bit of a pack rat, I found two of the artifacts that she had mentioned. I wanted to stop further deaths from the ash storms so, had push come to shove, I would have donated Chrysamere. I was glad that I did not have to.

Upon my return to the Museum I presented her with the Boots Of Blinding Speed and the Spellbreaker Shield.

She cooed.

"Thank you Rashelle, these are indeed artifacts of interest."

"May I have the shield now, please?"

"Oh certainly, here it is."

She gave me the shield.

"Thank you, sera."



I returned to the Craftsman's hall. I handed the three pieces to Yagak.

"Yes, Rashelle, I think this this all of it. I can re-forge the blade now. It will be as good as new, if not better."

"thank you sera."

"It should take a week."

"Yagak, it is vitally important that this blade be re-forged as soon as possible. Lives are depending on it."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I ... I cannot explain. But is vital. You have to believe me. I will give you this ebony sword now as payment and I can get more gold later if you want it. I can assist you as you work to make things go faster. I'll even work the bellows and go and bring you food. Tell me what to do."

He agreed. We worked like madmen, he from the thrill of the challenge and me from desperation. I have a vague memory of Bols turning to an Imperial man and saying "why can't you work like that?"

Bols closed the shop and left for the day but the Orc and I continued.

Thirty hours later we had Trueflame repaired.

"Truly a blade worthy of Dumac himself," said the Orc as he grinned. "There is no flame, Rashelle. The secret of that was lost with the Dwemer. I cannot do any more than this."

I thanked him. I hoped Almalexia would accept the blade in its non-flaming state.

"You are strong for a little Breton but you need to get some sleep," Yagak said.

I rubbed my eyes and said softly, "I can't."

I was very tired and I was covered with soot and sweat from working with the smith and I'm sure I smelled foul but I did not waste time: I cast Almsivi Intervention and walked into the Temple. I went directly to Almalexia's chamber.

"Yes Rashelle, that is the blade, almost as it was. You have done well, so far."

Uh oh.

"The sword is nearly restored to its former glory: you need only to add the fire to make Trueflame complete."

Damnit.

"Almalexia," I said as calmly as I could, "How can I get the flame back when the secret has been lost since the disappearance of the Dwemer?"

"You will find a way, Nerevarine."

"Could you ... could you please stop the ash storms while I look into this?"

She raised her hand. I expected her to hit me again. She instead began to caress my cheek again. I guess the soot did not bother her.

"Soon, Neverar," she breathed, "... but not yet. I am punishing my people for their lapse of faith. It is for their own good."

I thought about killing her. With five Hands there, I could not. Also, there was no guarantee that the magical barrier to the weather machine would not still remain after her death.

"Now go: make Trueflame burn again, and then come back and ascend to my side."

I nodded, turned and stepped out to the Temple reception area.

"I keep this temple clean sera. Mind you keep it that way." said that woman who I always saw cleaning there. I believe she was called Granny Varis. I silenced her with my gaze.

Rashelle's frustration is purely evident now. Almalexia has started to get to her. I also enjoyed how the death of that eldery Dunmer caused Rashelle to stick around rather then run away. Made her realise she had to stop this.

I just have one comment, which I probably should've mentioned earlier. Were the Dwemer Explosive Charges ever used? Because aren't they necessary to gain access to the weather machine and the oil which turns up later? Just curious. It's a minor detail but nitpickers (which I guess is me this time ) might pick up on that stuff.

Keep up the excellent work though, blockhead!

"started to get to her" - lol. you are the master of understatement

I had to add that in. In the game, you have your character stay because you want to do all of the quests. In a story, that is not a plausible motivation.


short answer: I meant to do that. In my story, there are no blocked passages. I dropped that part.

long answer: In the game, the satchel charges serve the following functions:

• Dude, look, I can script!
• Hey, let's blow stuff up!
• animated eye candy
• Hey, let's add puzzles to the game, yeah, that's the ticket.

When I played Tribunal the first time I said to myself: "There is no way someone raised in the Morrowind Universe is going to be able to ever figure out what a 'satchel charge' is and how to use it correctly. You've got to be a 19th - 21st century Terran. They will blow themselves up if they actually stumble onto how to use it." It just struck me as a glaring and unnecessary continuity flaw in the game itself.

I certainly did not want to carry a flaw over into my story. The sachel charge adds nothing to the plot: it simply adds a half hour of play-time. In Rashelle's universe, the passages were never blocked.

Hmm, a Dwemer might know. What with steam engines and all, gunpowder isn't that much of a stretch. But the Dwemer are gone so yeah, it won't work. Alchemists might know but if they did, there definitely would be exploding potions available on the market.

And Rashelle has realized that not all of the Tribunal can be trusted. I'll eagerly read this to its conclusions. Keep swinging that sword and keep drinking those potions.

Yea, I understand your reasoning behind excluding the satchel charges. You're off the hook.

Chapter 10. Fire



"Perhaps you should ask a Dwemer." said Plitinius Mero.

I was in the Palace Reception Area with Plitinius, who was in here because the ash storms made the courtyard an uncomfortable place to linger.

"Hah ha. Very funny. It is to laugh," I said bitterly.

My conversation with this man had not been going well. He was rather full of himself and clearly disapproved of me. I was fast losing my patience.

"Look you Imperial fetcher," I shouted, "One person already has died from these ash storms and I need to stop them and the only way to stop them is to get this stupid sword flaming again!"

"Rashelle, I fail to see the connection. Are you well? You look like you have gone too long without sleep."

He sniffed and took a step back. The unspoken statement was that I smelled and was mad. The first part was certainly true.

"Now Rashelle," he said as if to a child, "I was serious about finding a Dwemer. There are Dwemer ghosts in the ruins. Perhaps you could talk to one?"

"They always attack. You should know that if you really know as much as Barenziah claims you do."

"Hmmpf!" he said, "They only attack because you have a threatening presence. You must sheath your weapon and stop being so aggressive."

It was a stupid idea, coming from a fetcher who had never seen a dungeon, but I could think of nothing better.

"Thank you," I said without sincerity.

I made my way to the plaza and then once again down into Bamz-Amschend.

There were sometimes ghosts of the Dwemer in these ruins. Maybe I could do as Plitinius said find one who would not attack and who would also just happen to speak Tamrielic.

And Maybe I could flap my arms and fly ... although ... I *could* levitate, which I supposed ruined the analogy.

A more practical plan would be to maybe find some Dwemer books that would explain how to imbue a sword with constant flame again. Of course, I'd have to get a book that contained only pictures.

Maybe that wasn't so practical after all.

I was clutching at straws and I knew it. Anyone with common sense would have just left Mournhold. There was no way to undo the damage I had done and there was no way I could stop the ash storms.

The ash storms had been blowing for some days now. By now people had adapted, either by learning the breathing patterns necessary, or by simply wearing a veil. At this point I expected no further deaths, so stopping the ash storms was no longer an urgent matter. I could leave. I could not bring back the dead.

Maybe I was just too stubborn for my own good. The sword would have flame!

As I wondered through the ruins of Bamz-Amschend I kept an eye out for any books.

I found one that seemed to deal with the maintenance of ... pipes? As I could only look at the pictures, it was not very informative. I sighed and replaced it on the table where I had found it.

I found another book on a shelf. I opened it ... to be faced with pages of solid text. There were no diagrams at all. I had no idea what the book was even about. No one could read Dwemeri ... save for one person who lived under Tel Fyr. I took the book.

Some more searching found another book. From the pictures it appeared to deal with ... fire safety. I shrugged and took that as well. I was looking for fire, after all, sort of.

I knew that these books would be useless. It would be better if I could just find a Dwemer.

I rounded a corner and saw ... the ghost of a Dwemer. Making no attempt to be stealthy, I strode towards him: my sword remained sheathed.

"Who disturbs Radac?"

"Me."

"I see."

He pointed and continued; "Go back to the surface. You go that way."

"That's very kind of you to give me directions, but I am not yet ready to do that. I am looking for a Dwemer savant."

The ghost laughed.

"I'm no savant, just Radac the smith."

Perfect!

"I have an old Dwemer sword and I need to make it have flames on the blade."

"So engrave some on?"

"No, no: I mean actual flames that come from the blade, all the time."

"Oh, a creffinol."

"Pardon?"

"It's a word that doesn't translate into Tamrielic: pay no heed. Let me see the sword."

I reached back and pulled out Trueflame. I held it out to the ghost, hilt first. Surprisingly enough, he was able to grab it. I was rewarded with the unnerving sight of a half transparent ghost holding a solid opaque object.

"Yes, I can tell it has just been re-forged ... nice job: whoever did it should have been a Dwemer. Anyway, all I need to do is apply some pyroil tar on it and you will have an ever-flaming blade."

"Please tell me that there is some on the shelf behind you."

He laughed. "Nope. The only thing there is some old lubricating oil which by now has probably gone bad."

"Feh."

He handed the sword back to me.

"There may be some bottles of it deep in the old ruins under the city"

Further ruins below these ruins? How strange.

"Some foolish Dwemer actually worshiped the Daedra. Idiots. Should have wiped them all out when we had a chance. But no, the council said we have to give them freedom of expression. They said we had to have religious tolerance. Bah!"

"And the point is?"

"Those Daedra worshipers were the sort who liked to put silly effects like flame on their weapons. Down there in the Daedric caves of Norenen-Dir you would most likely still find some pyroil tar."

He explained what the bottles would most likely look like and also described the smell and appearance of the tar itself. I nodded, thanked him, and was on my way.

A ruin below a ruin, what a marvel. Perhaps there were more under it? Maybe the world was nothing but old cities on top of older cities in turn over still older cities... all the way down?

I shook my head: focus, Rashelle. I needed to stop the ash storms to somewhat atone: idle woolgathering would not help

I reached further areas to Bamz-Amschend that I had not previously explored. I fought the various Dwemer animunculi there and continued. I found no pyroil tar but did not expect to.

Eventually I found what I was looking for: a downward leading cave passage. This lead to a system of caverns with Daedric constructions in them. I fought many Daedra and a small number of undead.

At one point I entered into a huge cave. Like the Old Mournhold Battlefield, it was so large it almost seemed as if I were outdoors. I looked down at the many Daedric towers, all lit up with many braziers and candles like a city of lights, and I was awed by its alien beauty.

This awe lasted ten seconds and then the first lightning bolt from a storm atronach flew past me.

Sighing, I got down to business.

There were several large caves like this, each with much Daedric construction, each fascinating and beautiful in its own way, each filled with the usual dangers.

Down this deep, the water was clean. I availed myself of this discovery to to wash the worst of the soot and the stink off. The water was so nice and cold.

I was levitating down though a vertical series of caves. I was enchanted by the spectacle of a series of waterfalls that cascaded in steps down from one cave into the next. It was there that I finally found a bottle of pyroil tar.

It had been difficult to enter this section of cave: without levitation it would have been impossible. This would therefore be a safe spot to rest, provided one did not toss and turn. So, precariously curled up on a narrow ledge near one of the waterfalls, I dropped into a deep and much-needed sleep.



I made my way back to Radac the Dwemer ghost.

"Oh, you again. Do you have the pyroil tar?"

I crouched down and put the bottle on the floor: I was afraid if I handed it to him one of us would drop it and I did not want to make a second trip.

He picked it up and gestured brusquely to me. I handed him Trueflame.

He moved quickly and did something that I could not clearly see and ... the sword burned. Fire ran along the entire length of the blade.

He handed it to me.

"Wow."

"There you go, a silly fiery blade. Bah: a simple straight edge of good plain metal is all you need."

"Thank you."

"Go on then."

A thought occurred to me.

"Sera, what happened to the Dwemer?"

"Go on, leave. Put one foot down then the other. Repeat. Leave!"

I sighed and cast Almsivi Intervention.

I had no sheath for the blade and I did not want the flame to burn my pack to I had to walk with the sword in my hand.

In the Temple Reception area, two ordinators interposed themselves in front of me.

"Please let me pass. I have no sheath for this sword and I cannot hold it by the blade. Almalexia wants this weapon."

Fedris gestured. they stepped aside.

"Thank you."

Once again, I entered Almalexia's chamber.

"The blade burns again," she said. "It is as it was a thousand years ago. Nerevarine, you have done well. let me see."

I nodded and she took the sword from my hand.

She motioned for me to step back. I did so and then she took a few swings in the air with the blade. Trails of fire were formed by each swing. It was rather impressive, actually.

"Now about the ash storms ... "

"Rashelle, as much as I would like to, it is not yet time to stop them. I will stop them soon, though. I promise this."

I nodded. What else could I do?

"In fact, there is only one task left for you to do, and then I will stop the ash storms and you will be at my side, as it was before."

I waited.

"My old friend Sotha Sill has gone mad. Too long has he been in retreat in his clockwork city."

This sounded familiar ... she had said almost the same thing about Salas ... yet the germ of an idea was in my head. Maybe this was a way for me to fix matters.

I knew that Sotha Sil was the third member of the Tribunal. He was the third "living" god. Unlike Almalexia and Vivec, he had an interest in clockwork machinery. Vivec once told me that Sotha alone of the Tribunal probably did not even notice when the Heart was destroyed because he relied so little upon his acquired godlike powers. He relied instead on a thousand years of invention and construction of ... machinery.

"The creatures that attacked the Plaza were his creations," continued Almalexia. "Why he sent them to attack I do not know."

I waited.

"He reshapes his world to his own liking and lurks amongst his machine-things. I would like you to go to the clockwork city and try to speak with my old friend. If he is indeed mad, you must slay him to protect the people."

She handed the sword back to me. The Hands seemed closer to me than they had been before.

"This sword will enable you to kill a weakened god such as Sotha Sil."

I nodded. My brain was whirring with a plan. I did not believe for a second that Sotha Sil was mad. I did not believe that he was behind the attack on the Plaza. I would seek Sotha Sil indeed, but not for the reason that Almalexia wanted, no sera. He would help me stop the ash storms, and he would help me with Almalexia.

Oh, my own foreknowledge makes this update so interesting. I'm glad to see that Rashelle is easily seeing through Almalexia's plan. I eagerly can't wait to see how she reacts to the Clockwork City.

Onward!

Plans against plans. Ah, I love such conflicting goals in stories. One plans to oppose the plans of the other, the other adapts his/her plans in return and the cycle continues.