The letter, dated three days ago, was quite specific. “We have been observing you Sed Telvanni Vahl, and would like to extend to you an invitation to meet us and work with us. If you have an interest, be where you and the murderer fought V’s warriors within a fortnight. We will contact you.” It was signed with an ornate “EH”.

I had Effie-Tai send me back to Ebonheart and, from there; I made my way to Vivec City and the storage area underneath the Arena Canton. The only murderer that I knew I’d had any dealing with was Saprius Entius and V’s Warriors could only refer to the two Ordinators we’d fought in this very chamber. A convenient crate gave me a good view of the main door into the chamber and a thorough search had made sure that there was nobody hiding in one of the adjoining rooms. Swords drawn and across my lap, I sat watching the door ~ waiting for this mysterious EH to make an appearance.

“Do not move,” a voice said, accompanied by the prick of a dagger-point at the back of my neck. “Trust us when I say that we mean you no harm.”

“Trust is a difficult commodity to come by,” I said, somewhat annoyed that this Mer had managed to sneak up behind me unheard. And, come to that, where had he snuck up on me from?

“This is true,” the voice whispered in my ear. “So, here is where you have a choice. In a second or two, my companion is going to cast a spell on you… no, sit still and hear me out,” the voice said as a hand pressed me back down on the crate. “The spell is a simple temporary blinding spell. It will wear off after a while. Once the spell is cast, you can trust us to take you to the place we’ve been instructed to take you, or you can remain here while the spell wears off.

“Rest assured that we will not be leading you into harm if you choose to accompany us. If you choose to remain here, we will never get in touch with you again. Now…”

“Caddug Chodymau,” a different voice said behind me and I gasped involuntarily as darkness obscured my vision.

“So,” the first voice said, “time to make a decision Sed Telvanni Vahl. Will you now, of your own free will, accompany us into peril and darkness or will you remain here?”

The question had a ritualistic feel to it and, on the spur of the moment, I decided to take a chance that these softly spoken Mer were telling the truth. “I will accompany you in darkness into peril,” I replied.

“Very good,” the voice said as a hand took me by the elbow and helped me to stand. “Do not speak, or call out. If you do, we will abandon you. Now, place your hand on my shoulder and we will guide you.” We went forward and I distinctly heard the click of the storage room door as it closed behind us. Then, a short while later, “there are steps here,” the voice said.

I was led out of the Arena Canton and down into a gondola. I couldn’t hear what the Mer said to the gondolier but we were ferried away to another Canton. From the length of the voyage, it could have been anyone of several. I was led up into the canton and then up stairs, down stairs, along corridors and back down ramps before we boarded another gondola.

“Almost there,” the soft voice said after an unknown time wandering Cantons or travelling on gondolas. “Down these stairs here,” the voice said as he guided me down, “along here and kneel. Do you feel that empty space beneath your hands? I’m guiding your hands to the ladder, feel it?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Good, down to the bottom now Sed Telvanni Vahl and wait for us. We will guide you the last little distance.” I clumsily made my way down the ladder and stood in the darkness at the bottom while the two Mer made their way down. I had feared that we were in the sewers beneath one of the Cantons but a surreptitious sniff of the air told me that this wasn’t the case. Hands gripped each elbow, and I was guided along a corridor that took several sharp rightward bends and up another flight of stairs. There was an odd silence to the place and I got the feeling I was being watched by a number of people who were keeping very, very quiet ~ and were extremely skilled at it.

After wending our way through several more corridors and open spaces, I was led up another flight of stairs and through a corridor that echoed oddly, as though it was much larger than it felt. Finally, I was brought to a halt and the softly spoken Mer said, “This is where we leave you Sed Telvanni Vahl. Remember, any peril here is of your own making.”

“Glanhau,” a voice said from in front of me. The darkness lifted and I found myself standing in a small chamber with a cupboard, a table, and a bed. It was, however, the slightly built Mer standing in front of me that commanded my attention. Several inches shorter than me, the slender Mer sported the odd, tied-back hairstyle that I had come to associate with Ordinators and soldiers. He was clad in a robe of deep red, decorated with bronze coloured thread. A scar crossed his left eye but seemed to have done no damage. The only other thing I noticed before he spoke was the black leather glove on his left hand.

“Greetings Sed Telvanni Vahl,” the Dunmer said, inclining his head respectfully. “I trust that your journey here wasn’t too onerous. Please, forgive us the theatrics, but we do maintain a very high degree of secrecy here. Oh, and my name is Eno Hlaalu.”

“A pleasure to meet you Muthsera Hlaalu,” I replied, dropping my hand to the hilts of Claw and Fang as the Hlaalu name registered with me. The Mer smiled, not seeming to notice my aggressive stance. “Why have you brought me here?” I asked.

“To kill you,” Eno said, dropping a hand onto the hilt of the curved blade on the table beside him. My hands closed on the hilts of my sword and the Skaal blades hissed silkily from their scabbards. There was a sudden and stunning impact and, when I recovered moments later, Eno Hlaalu was standing facing me, Claw and Fang held in his hands. “Slow and unnecessarily showy,” he said, looking at the blades. “Nice swords,” he added, “Skaal, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” I replied warily as he placed the swords on the table beside him. I had already shaken the emergency dart from its place in my robe and the heavy Dwemer weapon now lay concealed in my palm. Whipping my hand up, I launched the dart at Eno ~ who calmly plucked it out of the air as though it had been hung there on a piece of string in front of him.

“Not fast enough,” he admonished, “and the throw was clumsy, albeit accurate enough. Now, perhaps we can forgo the embarrassing moment when you reach for your axe only to discover I have already misappropriated it?” He gestured to the bed, moving slightly so that I could see the Last Wish resting on the cover.

“Boot dagger?” I suggested.

“Ahhh, we missed that one,” he said with a laugh. “Such an old fashioned hiding place that few would think to check there. The people responsible will be… reminded and encouraged to do better. Please,” he added, “have a seat and we will talk.”

Warily, I sat on the seat on one side of the table as he sat opposite me. He poured two goblets of wine and grinned at me as he pushed one towards me. I reached over and grabbed the other goblet, and then stopped. “The age old dilemma,” he said, “is the one I pushed towards you poisoned or, anticipating the fact that you’d reach for the other goblet, did I, in fact, poison that one? Or, perhaps,” he said, taking a mouthful of wine from each goblet and filling them back up, “neither are poisoned.”

“Or perhaps,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes as I sipped the red wine appreciatively, “I have already taken the antidote and both goblets are poisoned?

"In fact,” he said, struggling to suppress a smirk as I spluttered a mouthful of red wine everywhere, “neither goblet is poisoned. Getting you here simply to administer poison is rather baroque, don’t you think?”

“So why did you get me here,” I asked, pushing the wine aside, “and who are you?”

“We are the Night-Mother’s Children, the Adepts of Mephala,” he said, “more commonly known as The Morag Tong.” While I sat there, gawping at him in total shock, Eno Hlaalu continued, “as to the reason we’ve requested this meeting… Well, that is rather easy to answer. We have been watching you for a while now and are impressed with what we’ve seen. Although crude and clumsy in technique, you show a certain flair for combat that we would like to help you… evolve. Therefore, in accordance with our ancient customs, we extend an invitation to you: join us.”

Wohoo....I'm the first one to answer this time...

I love to see Sudhendra join the Moran Tong, they are one hell of a cool faction, with nice quests.

Great start to the new chapter, and your return is as always most welcome, keep it up dear.

Millions of Jona's to you.

While I know this fanfic has been going for a while, I am new to it. I certainly wish I wasnt however since I was completely enthralled with that chapter. I certainly cant wait to read some more.

Well, that was a very imaginative and appropriate introduction to the secrecy of the Morag Tong. I was impressed with Eno's abilities, as I suspect was Sudhendra. Given her Telvanni devotion to the pursuit of power, I would be shocked if she didn't accept without hesitation.

Oh goody, its back! Looks like I have a lot of catching up to do on a few stories. Welcome back mate!

Ahhh good times are here, frequent Sudhendra-updates! yay! mplantinga expressed in his wonderful way what I felt when reading this!

What more can I add that´s not already been said?

Yay for more Sudhendra!

“Join a bunch of murderers for hire?” I spluttered.

Eno winced, a bleak look crossing his face for a moment. “That,” he said forcefully, “is a common misconception. While it is true that we… remove people from the realms of the living and get paid for doing so, we are not a bunch of thuggish killers. I fear that your exposure to the scum of the so-called Dark Brotherhood has tainted your perceptions.

“We are the arbiters of inter-House conflict,” he continued calmly. “Where there is conflict between the Great Houses that may, or may not, lead to House War: that is the place you will find us. When Great House Redoran has a complaint against Great House Hlaalu, for Redoran to actively engage the person, or persons, responsible runs the risk of causing an escalation of the conflict. We are simply neutral: we are engaged to resolve such problems without the risk of triggering a House War.”

“I’m head of Great House Telvanni,” I said sharply. “Just how neutral will people believe I am?”

“I, myself, am a House Brother in Great House Hlaalu,” Eno responded. “Very few in the House are aware of what I also do. Those that do know remain extremely quiet; knowing as they do that the Morag Tong has served them faithfully in the past ~ even though it has been headed by Telvanni or Redoran.”

I sat and thought about what Eno had told me, about the neutrality of the Morag Tong and how they work to prevent disputes escalating to the point of open combat between the Houses. Eno also explained Grey and Black Writs and the way that these work. He also heaped a great deal of invective on the Dark Brotherhood. Finally, I asked the question that had been weighing on my mind since Eno’s offer, “What happens if I say that I don’t want to join you?”

“Then my associates will blind you again and lead you from this place,” Eno said, “and the invitation will never be repeated. However, should you agree, you will be given a Black Writ to fulfil. Then my associates will blind you again and lead you from this place. On completion of the Writ, you will return to the place you were taken to and we will guide you back here.”

“I will accept your invitation,” I said, after having given the matter some thought. Something told me that this was a unique offer and that to turn it down would be counter-productive. Besides, I couldn’t turn down the chance to learn more of this most mysterious organisation. True to his word, Eno explained the functions of a Writ to me before I was once more magically blinded and led from the hidden headquarters. After an extremely circuitous journey, I was left on my own and, as the spell cleared, I could see that I was back in the storage room under the Arena Canton.

The roll of parchment, with its black wax seal, revealed a name and a location amidst the fancy language: Feruren Oran at the Elven Nations Cornerclub. The Elven Nations is on the plaza in the Hlaalu Canton and getting there was not a difficult task. The Cornerclub was bustling when I entered and a few discrete questions of the inn-keeper soon revealed what I needed to know. Squaring my shoulders, I descended the ramp into the lower area of the Cornerclub and picked out my target.

Feruren was a youngish-looking Mer with a shock of coppery coloured hair. He was talking to another Mer but that wasn’t of any interest to me. Eno had given me very clear instructions as to how I was to proceed and I had the feeling that I was under observation. Taking a moment to settle myself, I spoke the words Eno had taught me, “Feruren Oran, in the name of the Night-Mother, I bring you death.”

He span to face me, his eyes widening as the blood drained from his face. The black-hilted dagger that Eno had given me slid into my hand and, as he started to draw his sword, I plunged it deep into his chest. There was absolute pandemonium as the Mer coughed up blood and collapsed to the floor ~ several patrons started to draw their swords but stood down as the import of the ornate dagger sank in. Feeling slightly queasy, I wheeled around and strode up the ramp.

“That’s her,” the proprietor shrilled to the three Ordinators, pointing at me as I stepped into the upper levels of the Elven Nations, “That’s the killer.” Eno had also told me how to deal with this situation and, as the three Ordinators approached with maces drawn, I unrolled the parchment and extended it towards them. One took the scroll from me and read it.

“Morag Tong,” he said simply, lowering his mace and returning it to the loops on his belt. His compatriots followed suit, and one of them turned and spoke two short words to the proprietor as I walked out of the Cornerclub and made my way down to the lower levels. The walk from the Hlaalu Canton to Arena isn’t particularly long and, before too much time had elapsed, I was back in the storage area underneath the Canton.

Nor was I alone, two dark-robed figures stepped from the shadows as I entered and the taller of the two spoke, “welcome back Adept, Grandmaster Hlaalu has instructed us to show you the secret ways into our headquarters.” With that, the Mer guided me into one of the side rooms and lifted the lid off a large, empty crate. I blinked, and then grinned as the base of the crate was raised to reveal a short set of ladders down into a dark tunnel.

“You mean you led me half way around Vivec City and brought me back here?” I laughed. Eno grinned and nodded. Then he gestured for me to sit and sat opposite me.

“If I may,” he said, extending his hand. I realised he wanted the Writ back and handed it over. “Thank you,” he said, putting the Writ to one side. “Now, the fee on that Writ was two hundred and fifty Septims…” Eno slid the coins across the desk to me “…since Feruren Oran was more of a minor nuisance than a major threat.”

“What was his crime?” I asked.

“That is the one thing we do not ask,” Eno said with asperity. “It is the task of the people in our Guild Halls to assess potential clients and create the Writs. We simply… act upon them. Now, as to your performance in the execution of the Writ: as I said earlier, sloppy and clumsy but showing great potential. We have several people here who can train you in various skills: infiltration, archery, poisons, short-bladed weapons, swords, daggers, and traps, that sort of thing. We also have a very strict dress code, while your armour is most impressive; it hardly fits the image we seek to project. Speak to Rogdul gro-Bularz; he will see that you are properly outfitted. Then you should report back to me Associate Vahl.”

The Orc provided me with a wine-red robe, the edges of which were decorated with bronze filigree. The robe seemed oddly heavy and, on closer examination, actually had armoured plates sewn into the upper body front and back. I was also given a single black leather glove, a copy of ‘The Black Hand’, a small pouch containing a number of empty phials, and a leather folder containing a dozen of the silver-bladed, black-handled daggers. The Orc also showed me the supply room ~ a bewildering array of weapons, darts, and methods of dealing death.

“So, Associate Vahl,” Eno said when I returned to his chamber, “I have two tasks for you. The first is a Black Writ to be served on Odaishah Yasalmibaal. He may be well known to the guards of your House for it is for Great House Telvanni that the Writ is issued. All I can tell you is that he is a renegade Ashlander and bandit with a camp somewhere near Tel Aruhn.

“The second is a Grey Writ, to be issued in the name of Toris Salen of Great House Redoran. He maintains a manor here in Vivec City, in the Redoran Canton. The charges against him are written on the Writ; make sure he understands the gravity of his situation. Go forth and bring honour to Mephala.”

The gondolier ferried me over to the Redoran Canton and there, in the plaza, I quickly found Salen Manor. I decided that, since my business here was honourable (at least by local standards) that there was no need to make a scene. My knocking was answered by a House Retainer who, once he realised what I was, allowed me in with a great deal of haste. Toris was richly dressed and seemed to have no shortage of luxuries, which explained the message I was about to deliver.

“Who are you,” Toris snapped angrily as I stepped into his parlour, “and what are you doing here?”

He gasped as I slammed him against the wall, his hand reaching for the sword hung at his waist. Not giving him a chance to draw, I said, “Toris Salen, be advised that you are under threat of death for the act of embezzling funds from Great House Redoran. The Adepts of Mephala give you this warning: return the funds you stole or face execution at the hands of the Night-Mother’s Children. The Black Writ is written, in ten days it will become active. You have until the 20th day of Morning Star to make amends.

“You may run, many do. You may fight, some so choose,” I said in conclusion, “if you run, there is nowhere in the Grey Maybe that we will not find you. If you fight, you will lose, as do all those who defy the Adepts of Mephala. Ten days Toris Salen.” He squeaked as I drew the dagger from my waistband and drove it into the wooden frame of the door near his head ~ neatly pinning the Grey Writ in place.

“I should kill you where you stand,” Toris Salen said in a voice that betrayed his nervousness.

“Do so,” I said with a calmness I certainly didn’t feel, “for you know the penalty for that.” Indeed he did, for he went deathly pale at the threat. Not that it was a threat, Eno had explained. During the execution of a Black Writ, if the client (to use the Morag Tong’s wonderful phrase) manages to kill the Adept then there is no comeback on him ~ the Writ simply gets passed to another assassin. However, the issuance of a Grey Writ is a different matter. Kill an Adept delivering a Grey Writ and you face immediate retaliation directed at you, your family, friends, and ~ sometimes ~ people you know well enough to greet in the street.

My next stop was Tel Aruhn where the House Guards were only too eager to tell me about Odaishah Yasalmibaal. “A renegade Ashlander,” they said, echoing Eno Hlaalu. “We were trading with the Zainab until he appeared on the scene, now our merchants are attacked and robbed. We’ve tried to track him down Arch-Magister but haven’t located his camp.”

“If retribution cannot come to the bandit,” I said, “then the bandit should come to his own retribution. Prepare me a merchant’s pack and a Guar; have them ready within the hour. Tell anyone who asks that a merchant is travelling to the Zainab camp bearing a load of expensive trade goods. Do not, under any circumstances, let it be known that it is me who is going to be posing as a merchant.”

The guards were most efficient, they smuggled me into the Tradehouse where Ferele Athram had a travelling merchant’s pack for me, along with one of his pack-Guars. Donning a hooded robe and pulling a cloth across my face in the manner of the Ashlanders, I checked my equipment before setting off to the docks. The ship’s master helped me load the skittish Guar aboard the skiff that was going to ferry me across the bay to the Island, in slightly less than an hour we were under way.

My assumption was that Yasalmibaal had an informant in Tel Aruhn and that they were using some form of scrying magic to keep in contact with each other. My hope was that a fully laden merchant would prove an irresistible target for the Ashlander bandit. As I loaded the Guar, cursing its ancestry in colourful terms, I hoped that I was correct. Having finally loaded and prepared my pack, I looped the Guar’s reins around my left hand and set off. We hadn’t been travelling for more than half-an-hour when there was a whooping sound and a well-armoured figure bounded down the side of the hill.

“Your goods or your life,” the figure said in a heavy Ashlander accent.

“My goods you may gladly have,” I replied, the heavy Dwemeri dart slipping from the strap around my wrist and falling into my palm. “But it is your life that is at stake here Odaishah Yasalmibaal.”

“How did you…” he began. Before he could complete the sentence, the Dwemeri dart was in flight. The cunningly designed weapon slammed into his leather armour, the cutting edges slicing through the tough material with ease. As the shock-spell exploded in a cloud of chaotic fury around the Ashlander, I drew the Black-Hand dagger from my belt. Straddling the supine form, I drove the dagger deep into his chest.

My return to Tel Vahl was somewhat muted. I had so much to consider that I barely knew where to begin.

Hehe, sweet
Now Sudhendra's a kick*** assassin lol

Sweet!! Sudhendra's an assasin!!! I can;t wait until the next update.

Impressive. Sudhendra continues to demonstrate both her great powers of thought and exceptional combat skills. I'm really looking forward to watching her as she continues in the Morag Tong; I'm especially anxious to see her learn more fo the "assassin's" skills.

I reported back to Eno Hlaalu this morning, telling him of the execution of Yasalmibaal and the serving of the Writ on Toris Salen. I had no proof to back my claim about the Ashlander but Eno accepted my word. As he counted out the six hundred Septims (one hundred for the Grey Writ and five hundred for the Writ on Yasalmibaal) I understood why. Any assassin foolish enough to claim bringing honour to Mephala for something he hadn’t done… Well, I think you can guess how short their life expectancy would be after that.

“I have here a Writ you may find interesting,” the Grandmaster said. “It is issued in the names of Ethal Seloth and Indroso Vendu.”

“Vendu?” I said. “That’s a Telvanni name isn’t it?”

“Which is why you’ll find them in the Temporary Housing in the Telvanni Canton,” he said. “Do you accept this task, Adept?”

“Then go and bring honour to Mephala,” he said when I told him that I accepted the Writ. I paid a short visit to Ulmesi Baryon who gave me some assistance in the matter of toxins. Then, with well-coated daggers, I made my way over to the Telvanni Canton and up into the plaza. My plan to enter the Temporary Housing and make the announcement of the Writ was spoiled by the loud gasp of “Morag Tong” that accompanied my entrance.

It really was no contest. Two of the occupants ~ the only females ~ turned and started to cast spells the instant the gasp went up. The black-handled dagger slammed into the chest of the nearest caster, the virulent toxin taking effect almost immediately. The second dagger intersected the fireball that the other target was hurling at me. Thus it was that, while I scrambled to extinguish the flames that were charring the edge of my robe, Ethal Seloth lay screaming as she tried to remove a white-hot dagger from her shoulder.

Once she had been despatched, I turned to the rest of the room. There was a moment’s silence before people started chatting like nothing had happened. I stepped outside and there were no guards, no Ordinators, nothing. I was quite puzzled, even after Grandmaster Eno explained that, quite often, there is nobody who wishes to report the Morag Tong for their actions.

The execution of the Writ on Seloth and Vendu earned me two rewards. The first was a payment of a thousand Septims; the second was a promotion to the rank of Blind Thrall.

“I have another Grey Writ for you to execute,” the Grandmaster said, handing me the scroll. “This one is on Guril Retheran for his unwelcome advances towards our client’s daughter. The details are, as always, on the Writ. Our most current information is that Guril Retheran can be found at the Flowers of Gold Cornerclub in the Redoran Canton.

“I also have a Black Writ,” he added. “However this one will require more than a little finesse. The client is Galasa Uvayn and she’s in the Hlaalu treasury. I need not tell you that the location is well guarded ~ not only by Ordinators but also by House Guards from Hlaalu. The House Guards are likely to respond very aggressively to the honourable death of our client so stealth, discretion, and guile will be needed to close this Writ. Feel free to speak to any of the others within the guildhall for assistance in this matter.”

That sounded like excellent advice and I spoke to several of the experts there, the most interesting being Minibi Selkin-Adda. It was he who showed me the benefit of a range of illusion spells designed to disguise the appearance of an Adept for a short length of time. He also had quite an impressive array of very official-looking documentation (all forged of course). With Minibi’s help, I chose a very austere-looking middle-aged Imperial woman with short-cropped hair as my disguise, along with a set of forged documents and clothing to match.

“Imperial Revenue Service,” I snapped to the House Guard that stood at attention just inside the Hlaalu Treasury’s door. I showed him my papers, making sure that he got a good look at the official seal and the rank of Inquisitor of Audits. Minibi had been very, very clear on this point: “Let ‘em see your paperwork, don’t just flash it at them,” had been his advice. It certainly seemed to work, the guard was almost falling over himself to be helpful. “Where will I find Galasa Uvayn?”

“She’s in the Records Office,” the guard said, eagerly adding, “I can escort you down there if you wish ma’am.”

“And have you take me by the long route while one of your cronies rushes to tell her I’m here no doubt,” I snapped, enjoying the role I was playing. Leaving the quivering guard where he was, I swept regally through the antechamber and down the stairs to the Records Office. There was one woman working there, and she was distinctly unhappy to see me.

“Are you Galasa Uvayn?” I asked, ignoring her aggrieved inquiry as to who I was and what I was doing there. When she admitted that she was, I quickly slammed the concealed knife into her chest, clamping a hand over her mouth to stifle her cries as the poison on the blade did its quick and lethal work. Returning the way I came, I presented the Writ to the startled House Guard before stepping outside.

Guril Retheran was a bitter disappointment, a snivelling wretch of a Mer who started blubbering that he was sorry the instant I spoke the opening words of the Grey Writ: ”Guril Retheran, be advised that you are under threat of death for the act…”

Eno was pleased with the work I’d done so far, even going so far as to promote me to the rank of Thrall after paying me the eleven hundred Septims for the execution of the Writs. “I have a special duty I would like you to perform Adept,” he said. “The accursed Dark Brotherhood has been operating here in Morrowind Province. We believe that an Enchanter named Miun-Gei knows how to contact the Dark Brotherhood. We wish to ensure that they restrict their activities to the rest of the Empire and leave us be. Get us the name of that contact so that we may… request that they leave.”

Sudhendra certainly seems to be getting quite good at using throwing weapons; it's quite a change from the former charge in with twin-blades swinging. It was definitely good to see her learn some new magic tricks; I will continue to look forward to seeing what else she can learn from these highly trained assassins.

Wow... i love this story... I agree with mplant she IS getting better at throwing things. (poor husband is she gets married, if she throws cups at him it's going to be direct hits!)

“Your foolishness, no time,” the Argonian Enchanter hissed when I asked him about his knowledge of the Dark Brotherhood. “Ruination, despair, foolish Man-Human Marcel Maurard, Breton. Customers steal ruination.” By dint of some careful questioning, I established the fact that a Breton by the name of Marcel Maurard was selling enchanted items outside Miun-Gei’s shop and ruining the Argonian’s trade. And, since the Breton isn’t doing anything illegal, there is nothing that Miun-Gei can do about it.

“Perhaps I can be of some assistance,” I said. “Let me see what I can do.” If I could get rid of this Marcel Maurard, Miun-Gei would be beholden to me and I could get hold of the name of his contact without having to resort to threats or violence.

“A fellow has to make a living,” the Breton declared in a rich, rolling and pompous voice, “especially when he’s between jobs.”

“Between jobs?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said expansively. “Surely you’ve heard of me dear lady? Marcel Maurard, the act-tor!”

“Marcel Maurard, the unemployed actor,” I said snidely.

“Not unemployed,” he said, “never unemployed. I am… simply between roles. Good productions are so hard to find at the moment. There I was, basking in the glory in the Mournhold Player’s production of The Horror of Castle Xyr when the leading role goes and gets himself assassinated. Well, needless to say, the play closed down shortly there after. Now, one must make ends meet as best one can.”

“If you could find a part in a play,” I suggested, “you’d leave here?”

“Like a shot my dear, like a shot,” he responded.

It took some doing, but I finally found an answer to my prayers that didn’t involve me taking out a Writ on the irritating Breton. It turns out that there is a Hlaalu nobleman by the name of Crassius Curio who has a play written and is planning to put it on the stage. I was puzzled by the odd smiles that accompanied every mention of the nobleman’s name but thought nothing of it. A short gondola ride delivered me to the Hlaalu Canton and I quite easily found Curio Manor.

“Pumpkin, sweetcakes,” the rotund and oddly greasy-looking Hlaalu noble boomed effulgently, “what brings a beauty like you to the humble abode of poor little Crassius Curio?”

‘Humble’ wasn’t the word I would have used to describe the large and sumptuously decorated manor building. And ‘little’ only counted if you measured Crassius Curio from the ground to the top of his balding head. If you went by circumference, Curio was in a class of his own. “Serjo Curio,” I said, “I understand…”

“Sweetie, sugar,” he boomed, “Serjo Curio makes me feel so very, very old. Please call me ‘Uncle’ Crassius.”

“I understand,” I said, ignoring the last comment, “that you are a patron of the arts and that you intend to put on a play?”

“That’s true my dearest one,” he replied, beaming happily. “I have the last scene or two to write and then, then it will be performed for my avid fans. Here,” he added, handing me a manuscript, “I will allow you the privilege of an advance reading.”

The manuscript, entitled The Lusty Argonian Maid was… different. I’ve seen many a play where double entendre has been elevated to an art form. It’s rare to come across a play that relies so heavily on the single entendre. “Tell me what you think sweetie-pie,” he said, “be brutal, Uncle Crassius can take it.”

“It’s… certainly interesting, refreshingly different,” I managed to say without bursting out laughing. “I’m sure it will move the audience,” I carefully added, avoiding stating my opinion that it would move them to shower the stage with rotting vegetables.

“So glad you liked it pumpkin,” he beamed, “I’ll make sure you get front row tickets to the very first performance.”

“In fact,” I spluttered, “I may be able to help you there. There is an actor here in Vivec City who might be interested in performing.” I left Uncle Crassius in the middle of his excited and oddly phrased thanks. Once I was safely outside, I leaned against the wall of Curio Manor and laughed until I thought my sides would split. Even now, certain phrases of that play stick with me and will set me to giggling. “Cleaning, eh? I have something for you. Here, polish my spear” - indeed.

Miun-Gei was, needless to say, delighted to find that Marcel Maurard had left for the Hlaalu Canton at speed and was more than willing to provide me with the name of his contact. A name I relayed back to Grandmaster Hlaalu before returning to Tel Vahl for the night.

An impressive description of Uncle Crassius. I imagine that Sudhendra now understands all the interesting looks she recieved from people upon mentioning him. He certainly is one of the more colorful characters in the game.

Does anyone know whatever happened to OverrideB1? This is a good story and I would loved to have seen it finished.

Lost interest perhaps? Sucks, I know. This guy really inspired me too. I started my story around the same time as this one.

If I remember correctly, Override had said that real life had always been a factor in the frequency of updates released. But perhaps that only for the original lapse in material. For all I know it's likely a combination of both a busy real life and a loss of interest that keeps this great story from continuing. It's a pity, but maybe we'll get spoiled with the return of Override.

I too hold sentiments to this story simply because it was the first one I actually read (though originally I started reading it right in the middle, well after Sudhendra's experience on Solsthiem. Strange, but that's how I discovered this wonderful place.

Ahh...good ! So thanks to sweet Override we now have the pleasure of having you around Mallie! That´s neat! We are grateful.....and hope that Override will return one day!

If only I could give credit to someone for bringing me here..... I just found the link from Elderscrolls.com. And one thing led to another....... I did, however, get inspired by certain (contemporary) writers here.

Override was the reason that I came to this site. When he stopped posting on the official forums, he let me know that he was posting the story here. Since I was a rabid fan of this story, I just had to come. And, of course, I'm glad that I did, because I've been able to enjoy so many other stories as a result.

Sadly I don't think we'll ever see the completion of this story. If I remember correctly he became very disillusioned with Bethesda with the release of Oblivion. Can't remember the name of the site he posts on (RPG something or other) it's one of the sites that the TES forums wouldn't allow any mention of, due to the overwhelmingly negative feedback.

Maybe one day though, I'd love to see it finished. Fingers crossed.

ISD-IES: sounds like you did the same internet detective-work that I did. I found OverrideB1. He is alive and active elsewhere ... and does not answer PMs. I'll never know how the story ends. I'll never know if she ever outgrew her ruthless Telvanni ways. I'll never know how she wastes Dagoth Ur. And I'll never know if she ever finds romance.

Poop.

His story was one of the motivating forces to get me to finally start writing.

"Very disillusioned" is an understatement if ever I heard one. He hates it, and frankly I can see why. We all expected a hell of more from this game and when we realized it didn't deliver a fraction of what it was supposed to (some sooner, some later) we got pretty mad. I think he's still mad about it, and I guess maybe in his case and that of others that sort of rubs off on whatever else is associated with the TES "franchise", as they call it these days.

So I don't recommend holding your breath.

Awwwww, just when I came here because of Sed Vahl, and now its gone I wonder if it is possible for another author to try to pick the story up....