Although I was summoned to see Queen Barenziah, I did not immediately go to her chambers. Instead, I made some preparations. The request for my presence was not formal, after all, and did not specify a day or time. Therefore, after securing my old room at the Winged Guar, I availed myself of a bath and also carefully cleaned my clothing and gear. Those who have followed my story this far may be surprised that I took such care over a meeting with a member of the nobility, a class which I despised. And there may have been some hypocrisy in my actions, considering my generally low opinion of so-called royalty. But it is in that phrase that the reason for my attitude toward Barenziah may be found. In my experience, most nobles were anything but noble. They were greedy, stupid, arrogant, and self-absorbed- and those were their good points. But Barenziah had been a queen in truth, not just as a title. She had been instrumental in exposing and thwarting the plot of Jagar Tharn, who had impersonated Emperor Uriel Septim VII. More than that, she had always been concerned for the welfare of the common people and had done much to ease their suffering. There were additional rumors about her adventurous youth, but confirmation was hard to come by. No one, however, questioned the fact that she was highly skilled in the art of magic and more than able to navigate the dangerous world of court intrigue with grace and wit. She had lived for over 500 years, many of them during a time that all the royal families of Tamriel were at grave risk. All of that being true, I would grant her the respect that her years and her actions had earned.

I also engaged in an additional bit of preparation- a search for knowledge. My reasoning was simple: if I was to meet this great lady, I would need all the information I could find. Therefore, once I had seen to my appearance, I made my way to the bookseller in the Great Bazaar. Sanaso Sarothran happily sold me the full set of the Biography of Barenziah, which was the version of the queen’s story authorized by the Tribunal Temple. When I inquired after The Real Barenziah, she told me that no copies of that work were available in Mournhold and that it was more than her life was worth to even own those books, let alone sell them. The Temple was quite serious about suppressing that particular work, and it was one of the few things about which they and King Helseth were in agreement. While the authorized biography made for interesting reading, it had clearly been heavily edited and probably bore only a passing resemblance to reality. Perhaps if I had sought more diligently for the volumes of The Real Barenziah, things would have turned out differently. But then again, perhaps not. There are some events that must happen, and all the preparation and knowledge in the world cannot change them. As I was about to discover, Barenziah was much more than a character in a story, or a queen, or a noble. She was a force of nature. And now, it was time to meet her. I returned to the Palace and approached the door to the queen’s chambers. Upon my knock, a pleasant voice bade me enter.

When I said that Barenziah was a “force of nature,” I suppose that, for many, the phrase conjures the image of a great storm or an avalanche. But there is another force, a force that works quietly to impose major changes on the world. Think of the slow, constant effect of water on stone. Consider how the water shapes the stone over time. Such was the effect of the former queen of Mournhold. Like all elves, she was long-lived. And she was therefore able to wait patiently, to work her will slowly, achieving results after decades of subtle effort. But I only realized that long after our first meeting. At the time, I was too caught up in her sheer presence to recognize her depth. In appearance, she was typical of the Dunmeri race, with gray skin and red eyes. Her features were pleasant, and the few lines of her face appeared to be those of someone who smiled and laughed often. As befit her station, she was richly dressed and her white hair was elaborately dressed and curled. I thought it interesting that she made no attempt to disguise her great age, but rather displayed its signs prominently. Perhaps only we short-lived humans turn our vanity toward seeking the appearance of perpetual youth, while the eternal elves understand that age and wisdom are more deserving of veneration. And there was wisdom in her eyes, of that there can be no doubt. Again and again, in my memories of Barenziah, I come back to her eyes. She was reputed to be skillful in magic; perhaps she cast a spell upon me in that first moment of meeting. If so, it was of a sort that I have never encountered in all the long years since that day, for, if spell it was, it influences me still. Along with wisdom, her eyes seemed to hold a sense of fun, as if there was still an elven child lurking within and peering out at the clumsy Breton and dancing with laughter. But the laughter was not directed at me, at least not in any mean-spirited way. Instead, it was an invitation to share in the great adventure that was life. Maybe none of those impressions were real; maybe she did ensorcel me. And maybe she made me think of my own magical mother, a woman who I never knew, and yet carried with me always.

I must have spent enough time staring for it to seem rude, for Barenziah’s attendant, a no-nonsense Redguard, finally said,

“Is that how you were taught to greet the Queen? I vow that I could teach you some manners and it is a lesson you’d not forget.”

The queen waved a calming hand and said,

“Peace, Alusannah. He is merely a young man who is not used to court ways and court manners. As well to berate a fish for being uncomfortable upon the land or a bird for disliking the burrow of a badger. We are each of us fit for our own element and more at home therein. So, peace.”

The gracious speech, delivered in an amused tone, brought me back to myself and I bowed low, muttering,

“I beg your pardon, great lady. How may I be of service?”

Overwhelmed by her presence though I was, I would kneel before no one, not even the Emperor himself. In that, at least, I was still my own man. Still smiling, Barenziah gestured me to a chair, where I perched uncomfortably. After studying me closely for a time, she again spoke.

“Greetings, Trey. I’ve wanted to speak with you. I understand that you’ve performed some tasks for Tienius and you’ve done well. I believe that there are other matters you should investigate.”

I should have known by then that even a careful question could be dangerous, but my curiosity over what the queen might want with me overcame my natural caution, so I asked,

”What ‘other matters’ do you think need investigation?”

“Mournhold is a town of two minds. On the one hand, there is the monarchy, led by Helseth, and on the other there is the Temple, and the goddess Almalexia. It is hard to know whom you may trust. While there has been no open hostility between the two, there are always undercurrents that bear watching. I would like you to make yourself known to the Temple. See what you can learn. Speak to Fedris Hler. He is a powerful man in the Temple, a confidant of Almalexia. See if you can get to know him a bit.”

Because the queen had been polite, I responded in kind, rather than stating my feelings about Fedris Hler more bluntly.

“My lady, I have met Fedris Hler and I do not believe he likes me very much.”

That news did not seem to concern Barenziah particularly, as she responded,

“There is more to Hler than one would think. He hides a brilliant mind behind that gruff exterior. It is fairly widely known that he is the leader of the Hands of Almalexia. He will not respond to a charming pair of blue eyes,” she paused to smile at me again, “but he is impressed by plain-speaking. It would be a great service to me if you could discover what concerns occupy Fedris Hler and the goddess.”

I had hoped to avoid further contact with the Temple, but that plan seemed destined to fail. It was clear that the path to Helseth was guarded by his mother. Her words in his ear would determine whether he ever spoke to me or not. Those thoughts reminded me of something else she had mentioned, and I inquired:

“Earlier, you spoke of the difficulty of knowing who to trust. I would value your views on that matter.”

Her expression grew more serious as she pondered my question. At last, she spoke slowly,

“A difficult question, especially in the company of gods and kings. I am always here to answer your questions. My time in the political arena is done, and I will not miss it. I do, however, like to know what is happening to my son, and to his monarchy. I stay interested. You should also take the time to speak with Plitinius Mero, a dear friend of mine. He is knowledgeable on a great many subjects, and is always interesting to speak with. Apart we two, it is up to you to decide who your friends are.”

I recognized that last as a dismissal, couched in polite terms though it was. Barenziah had given me much to think on. Of great interest to me was the fact that she had plainly stated that she was someone who I could trust. Most of the time, such a vow is a warning that you should check your pockets. But, in this case, I had the feeling that she was speaking the simple truth.

Great start to chapter 6 Trey, I liked the way that you described the character's thoughts about Berenziah and his meeting with her even though he doesn't generally like people that call themselves "noble".

I thought that the ability to meet her in the game was awesome, I'd read books about her in the vanilla MW and I thought it was amazing when I met her. Like meeting with a legend. You portrayed the meeting very well in my opinion and I liked that he wouldn't kneel to anyone...shows self confidence.

This part is as good as ever so please continue soon. I'll be waiting.

Excellent... a new chapter! Marvelous as ever!

The queen had described Mournhold as a city of two minds- and that was also an apt description of my condition as I left her chambers. Perhaps it might be better to say that I felt like a moth caught between two flames. Or, still more in appropriate to my career, like a thief caught between light and darkness. My desire for revenge was a fire that drew me strongly, threatening to burn away my caution, my wisdom, my very life. Meanwhile, my inborn sense for danger warned me that it was time to slip away from the flames, to return to the welcoming shadows and hide myself from the games played by the nobility. To hide would be the sane course, the safe path. How wonderful it would feel to again be obscure and anonymous! But even as those imaginings called to me, vengeance whispered its own seductive words, cloaking them in the guise of an apparent logic that defeated rationality. Vengeance questioned, quite logically, if anonymity were even possible any longer. My deeds had made me known to the powers of Mournhold, to the Temple and the Palace. Would it even be possible to walk away without consequence or query? And vengeance supplied its own answer, vowing that the only safe choice was to see it through to the end, whatever that end might be.

The fact that as astute a political observer as Lady Barenziah was concerned about the Temple was enough to give a novice like me nightmares. When I had previously sensed some sort of “wrongness” in the Temple of Almalexia, I had put it down to my usual indigestion whenever I was faced with wealth and power. And Tienius’ interest in the Temple’s attitude toward his king was logical- Helseth would have a difficult time trying to rule a divided province, especially if the Temple was in open opposition to him. But Barenziah was not the only one who had doubts about the Temple- I reminded myself that Galsa Andrano, the Temple healer, had also been concerned by Almalexia’s demeanor of late. Again I thought to myself that, despite the High Ordinators’ oft-repeated chant of “Mournhold, City of Light, City of Magic,” this city was instead a place of darkness- a darkness that stained the very stones of the streets and the souls of the residents. Even after the cleansing of the Shrine of the Dead, I had still felt that some malign power loomed over the city. What that power might be, I did not know. And even my hatred of Helseth did not blind me to the fact that he was not the source of this foulness. Whatever that malevolent presence was, it was far older and far more powerful than any petty king.

With those cheerful thoughts weighing upon me, I entered the Temple Reception Area and approached Fedris Hler. He treated me with his usual haughty aloofness, which I withstood manfully. When I asked him of any service I might provide, he looked me over carefully, then slowly shook his head, saying,

“Hmmm...I have nothing for you at this time. Speak with Gavas Drin, the Lord Archcanon. He was in consultation with the Lady Almalexia this very morning. Perhaps he has something for you.”

The Archcanon had apparently gotten over his amazement at my previous success- he waved me away irritably with the words,

“Unfortunately, I know of nothing you may do for the Lady now. Speak with Fedris Hler. He usually has errands that must be completed by the lowly. Don't let him tell you he has nothing to be done. I'm sure there's something.”

I firmly reminded myself that, no matter how satisfying, it would be neither wise nor healthy to slap the Archcanon, particularly not inside his own Temple. Muttering a barely civil, “You are too kind,” I marched back to Fedris Hler. Somehow, it seemed to me that Drin’s words had contained the quality of a person urging someone else into a course of folly, as if he were saying,

“Go ahead. Keep poking the bear with that sharp stick. I’m sure he will pay attention to you eventually.”

The last thing I wanted in the world was for Fedris Hler to pay attention to me- if I had been given a choice, he would not even be aware of my existence. There was always something in his cool appraisal that made me feel like a prime ox standing in front of a butcher.

Just because I was annoyed did not mean I had to be foolish- I was careful to phrase my renewed request for work as a message from the Archcanon. Whatever game the two of them were playing, I would act the part of a good little pawn- until I could step smartly off the board. The truth was, I rather hoped that Hler would send me away and that I could tell Barenziah that the Chief Steward was not engaged in any activity that I could discern. And, as usual, my hopes were not to be. When I again presented myself to him, the peculiar light in Fedris Hler’s eyes made me more queasy than usual. He twitched his lips in what might have been a smile and slowly said,

“I spoke with the Lady earlier today, and there may be something that one of your skill will be able to help with. The Lady Almalexia would like you to retrieve a powerful artifact -- Barilzar's Mazed Band. All I know about the artifact is that the goddess wants it returned. You'll find it in the ruins beneath the Temple. Search to the northwest in the sewers. There was a passageway in the Abandoned Crypt that had been blocked off by a cave-in, but Almalexia had the area cleared. As for the item itself, I don't really see why you'd need to know any more about it. If you must inquire, perhaps Gavas Drin can give you more details.”

The fact that Hler had admitted that he, too, had talked with Almalexia only after sending me on a useless errand was not lost on me. If she had ordered her two most powerful minions to see to this task, it was obviously something she wanted badly. And that was enough to send me back to the Archcanon’s office for the second time. Regardless of the inconvenience, I would gather all the information I could before blindly going on another “simple” mission for the Temple. Drin looked a bit startled at my inquiry regarding the artifact, but then nodded his head decisively, as if reaching a conclusion. Regarding the missing object, he said,

“Yes...the Mazed Band. Barilzar himself was a powerful mage...quite powerful, in fact. He created the band sometime in the middle of the Second Era, and soon after disappeared. The purpose of the artifact is unknown to me, Trey. All I know is that the Lady wants it. I can only assume it will allow her to better minister to her people, though I find that hard to imagine.”

While it struck me as odd that Almalexia had not told the head of her order what she planned to do with the ring, I kept my surprise to myself. One advantage of dealing with someone like Gavas Drin was that his sense of his own importance usually caused him to blab everything he knew. If he admitted to not knowing the goddess’ plans, he was almost certainly speaking the truth. Congratulating myself on having accomplished the task for Barenziah without endangering myself, I made my way back to the Palace, humming happily. Whatever Drin and Hler might believe, I had not actually agreed to retrieve the artifact.

My complacency suffered a major blow when I reported to the queen. A worried frown creased her normally clear features and she spoke in a concerned tone,

“I have heard of this thing, Trey, but I know very little about it. I've heard whispers about it, but few details. Some say it is cursed...some say it is not. I can't understand why the goddess would want such a thing. If you want to know more, I would suggest speaking with Torasa Aram at the Museum of Artifacts. She has great knowledge of these things. You might also speak to Plitinius Mero- his research has uncovered a great deal of information about Mournhold in the Second Era. Take care...some things are best left buried.”

She paused for a few moments and then added,

“Still, I think you will have to go ahead. We will just have to see what Almalexia does with the Band.”

My conversation with Plitinius Mero regarding the Mazed Band did nothing to raise my spirits- rather the opposite, in fact. When I mentioned the artifact, he paled and looked around wildly before hissing,

“You should not even speak of that cursed object! I'm sorry, friend Trey...I did not mean to snap at you. I have heard many tales of that ring, and the evil Barilzar who created it. It was to be a means of teleportation for the wizard, but it was much worse than that. That ring was said to open gates to hellish planes, releasing creatures best left in nightmare. I've heard the ring was stripped of its power, and that only a god could use it now and not be destroyed. The thought chills my bones.”

A word of advice to anyone who might have doubts- when people you do not trust offer you a job with only the vaguest details, and when people you respect warn you against it- walk away. Better still- RUN away.

Wow... outstanding post. I'm awed, really.

Truly wonderful.....the start of this chapter promises further excellent reading. It´s like a history-book, and it´s all new to me, I haven´t played Tribunal because of my fear for Mournhold. The description of Barenziah was vivid, I could easily picture her in my head.

This story really is a TES-classic.....

I enjoyed the way you've led Trey into the quest for the Mazed Band. The continued depth of intrigue surrounding Trey's adventures in Mournhold remains one of the best features of this story.

Ah, I like Trey. He thinks about every action and consequence. That's what makes him so strong and what makes this story so intriguing.

One of the few useful traits that I developed early was my tendency to question authority. The only problem with that tendency was that, at the time I was in Mournhold, it was not fully evolved. That is to say, I was perfectly able to question why it was that some king or queen or Temple officer should have power over me. An accident of birth seemed to me a rather shaky basis for running a society. What I did not question sufficiently were the intentions of those in power. I disliked them; I distrusted them; but, ultimately, I did not understand them. So it was with the ring of Barilzar. Almalexia wanted this artifact very badly- for what reason, no one had said. Barenziah, far wiser than I, had asked that fundamental question, but I was too busy feeling ill-used to understand how important it was. Torasa Aram, the head of the Museum of Artifacts, provided another clue, which I again missed. When I asked the Dunmeri woman for information on the ring, she did not react with the revulsion that others had, but instead looked intrigued. Assuming the manner of one lecturing a class, she stated,

“The Mazed Band may actually be no more than a legend, though there is no doubt of Barilzar's existence, or his power. It has been said that the Mazed Band was able to open rifts in time and space...that it could even open the gates of Oblivion. It's been said that it would take one of divine birth to wield the ring. Some speculate that that was how Barilzar himself met his end. Of course, this is all conjecture. No one really knows what happened to the man or the Band. All of that was lost centuries ago.”

Although I had not asked all of the questions I should have, I had noticed one glaring omission in the discussion of this “Mazed Band” - to wit, who (or what) currently possessed the blasted thing. Rumors of a powerful magical artifact act like a lodestone on adventurers, thieves, and …others. It was those others I worried about- because they were not necessarily anything one might call remotely human. If Barilzar’s ring had truly been able to open the sort of “rift” Torasa Aram described, there was no guarantee as to what might have been waiting on the other side. Worse still, there was no guarantee that this hypothetical creature had gone back from whence it came. And if the ring was the focus of some sort of gate, any dislocated beings would likely stay close by. Someone- or something- would try very hard to unlock the secret of using the ring. And that entity would not appreciate my efforts to take it away.

When I reached the too-familiar passages beneath the Temple, it was almost if I had never left. It was still damp, gloomy, and fetid- and the ghosts and skeletons still tried to kill me. Morrowind, with its bandits, carnivorous wildlife, and ash storms was starting to look better all the time. I found the area Fedris Hler had described without much difficulty- the signs of recent efforts at earth-moving and shoring were obvious. It was somewhat surprising to note that some fearful or superstitious sort had marked a sign for “avert evil” on the doorway that had been uncovered. I would have thought that workers for the Temple would have more faith in their goddess. Before I describe what I found on the other side of that door, let me take a moment to talk about rhetoric. Those who were classically trained in the uses and meanings of words had a distinct advantage over those who were not. Fedris Hler had told me specifically that Almalexia had “…had the area cleared” when discussing the Abandoned Crypt. Although I did not know it, his words had a very specific meaning, quite different from what I assumed. Thus it was that I was quite surprised when the first lich appeared and began hurling spells at me. As I dodged and cursed and tried to remember how to conjure a magical bow, I thought back over Fedris Hler’s actual words. He had told me that the passage to the Abandoned Crypt had been cleared- and he had been referring to the debris from the cave-in. In other words, no one had even entered the crypt itself, let alone “cleared” it. That privilege was all mine. I made a mental note to thank the Temple Steward for the honor- assuming I survived it.

Having to deal with a few giant rats was almost a relief- even though they were likely to carry diseases, at least they did not cast spells. The liches that kept appearing around every bend did. My fear and anger were at such a high pitch that I did not even notice that I seemed to be dispatching the liches with relative ease- I had become a far more formidable fighter than I realized. And that fact was about to become vitally important. As I passed between a pair of columns carved in the style of the ancient, lost city that had been buried, I began to see the first evidence that this area had indeed been a crypt (besides the undead wizards, that is). Massive sarcophagi were still largely buried by rubble, but the carvings were again distinct. The Aldmeris was so ornate and ancient that I could not read it- and that probably was just as well. Beyond the burial chamber, the passage ended. As soon as I came into sight, a skeletal figure stepped forward and spoke in a suitably ominous voice.

“You have no place here, child of living flesh. The Mazed Band must not be allowed to leave this tomb. The Band should never have existed at all. That was my folly, and this is my curse. For all eternity, I am doomed to walk in this half life, to keep my creation from destroying the hearts and minds of mortals. Those who would challenge my fate must pay with their lives.”

I could forgive Hler for failing to mention the rats- it was a tomb, after all. And I was even willing to admit that being surprised by the presence of the half-dozen liches was mostly my own fault. However, I really thought it was a bit much that no one had bothered to tell me that Barilzar himself was still- well, not exactly alive- but at least animate.

Ah, another good one. Very good. I liked the play with words about what was cleared and what was not.

I just wonder, why didn't Barilzar just destroy it? Nah, that would ruin the fun of having to fight him to claim the Mazed Band or whatever it is.

A hilarious ending of a truly great addition, written with that Trey-ish sense of humour that I find so utterly appealing...

Do we sense a kind of resent to Nournhold in Trey´s mind now? I think we do! Naturally that cursed city is not Trey´s cup-of-tea!

I am eagerly waiting to see how Trey will handle the animated Barilzar!!!

A typical Trey understatement. Once again Trey's down-to-earth nature reminds of why I like him.

Short one today- I promise to add more shortly.

The figure that approached me was akin to the liches I had battled earlier, and yet different. Although he was wrapped in tattered black robes, Barilzar seemed more …substantial than his minions. My reluctant but necessary study of the various forms of undead came to the fore and I realized that the former wizard had become what was known as a “lich lord.” That knowledge did nothing to cheer me- it wasn’t as if I was collecting stamps for my “Monster-Spotter’s Guide.” Simply put, a lich lord was a more ancient, powerful, and malevolent undead spirit of a wizard. Barilzar immediately sought to demonstrate his power by casting a curse at me. As I felt the eldritch tingle of the hostile magic, I recognized that the spell was designed to do two things: to blind me and also to increase the effects of gravity upon me to the point that I could not move. My innate resistance to magicka prevented the first effect from succeeding, but not the second. Although I could see, I was rooted to the place where I stood until the spell dissipated. That was an acceptable outcome- I had no desire to move any closer to the skeletal wizard at the end of the tunnel. Instead, I conjured my magical bow and began using up my supply of enchanted arrows at a rapid rate. It became apparent that Barilzar himself was also resistant to some magic- nevertheless, the barbed points still seemed to damage his- substance, for lack of a better word.

True to his wizardly nature, the revenant attacked with spells, some few of which damaged my health considerably. His actions seemed slow to me, however, though I could not say whether that was due to his long period of unquiet slumber or something else. Whatever the reason, the pauses between his blasts of magicka had two effects- they allowed me time to use restorative potions and for the effects of the burden spell to weaken. Although I was capable of moving from my place, I gave no indication, but kept up a steady rain of arrows. I could tell that my missiles were effective, for even though he did not bleed, Barilzar flinched at every impact. At last, either because he had exhausted his magicka or because the arrows had goaded him beyond bearing, the lich lord drew a massive Daedric claymore and charged me. The physical attack took me by surprise- most wizards would never have possessed such a weapon, let alone learned how to wield it. Through great luck, his first swing was largely deflected by my magical bow, but I was still thrown against the wall of the cavern by its force. As I braced myself for the fatal blow, I realized that the burden spell had completely dissipated- I could move normally again. Quicker than the thought came to me, I sprang up and to the side, avoiding a stroke that would have cut me in two. As Barilzar struggled to raise the blade for another attack, I dispelled my magical bow and drew my own sword. The weight of his claymore was such that I was able to flick three or four thrusts into his torso before he had the weapon back into attack position. That is the main drawback of a claymore- while its great weight allows one to deliver thunderous blows, the recovery time is also substantial. Added to that was the fact that Barilzar still seemed somehow slow to me, as if he were moving underwater. As he turned ponderously and swung at me again, I was easily able to dodge to the side and send another flurry of thrusts to the place where his heart should have been. Whatever I struck was vital, for the lich lord fell to his knees and then, with a wail, to his face. Whatever had bound his substance together disappeared and all that was left was a pile of dust, the claymore, and a ring.

Well described fight with Bralizar there man, I particularly liked Trey's descriptions and thoughts about the lich at first glance. Keep up the good work man and add more soon.

I agree with Kiln: that was an excellent fight. I am curious though - will we learn more about why Barilzar seemed to be so slow?

Urf-- had not meant to create a mystery here- it was actually more a transference of my own reaction. I really expected a more difficult fight, was ready to die a few times before I "got it right." But Barilzar only managed the one swing with the claymore before Trey finished him.... thus Trey's speculations/pondering about the lich lord's dormancy or lack of muscle or the weight of the sword.

I know that you don't usually comment on comments, so thanks for making an exception here. It has been a long time since I've fought Barilzar myself, so I don't really remember how he seemed to me. Perhaps it was a good thing for Trey that the fight was easier than he anticipated; the continued existence of Barilzar was enough of a shock for one day.

The fight was definitely interesting. I just hope that Trey wondered about the slowness of Barilzar after the fight. Pondering questions during a fight usually distracts you.

The ring appeared to be nothing more than an expensive piece of jewelry- elaborately carved, to be sure, but in no wise special. It had a deep red stone of a sort I had never before encountered, but even with my natural sensitivity, I could detect no hint of magic. If this was indeed the Mazed Band, perhaps it could no longer operate now that its creator was dead. Perhaps the dangers and the power had all come from Barilzar himself, and the ring was nothing but a ring. Still, that did not reconcile with the words of the lich lord himself, nor did it explain why Almalexia wanted the Band so badly. Unraveling this mystery would require wiser heads than mine and I decided to seek counsel from people I respected before turning the enigmatic artifact over to the Temple.

My quest for advice was doomed to failure- neither Barenziah nor Plitinius Mero showed any inclination to discuss the matter with me. In fact, Plitinius was frankly doubtful that I was even in possession of the Mazed Band. After I had poured out my story and shown him the ring, the writer looked at me with some amusement and said,

“Let me be sure that I understand clearly. You say you actually met Barilzar himself and that he was a lich lord? And this was after you had defeated another six- or was it seven- liches? And you retrieved this nondescript ring from Barilzar’s corpse, a ring which you believe to be the Mazed Band? And now the goddess Almalexia herself wishes to see the ring. And you want my advice?”

With a chuckle, Mero concluded,

“Well, my boy, I would say you should polish up your armor and have a nice chat with the goddess. Please, don’t let me detain you.”

Now that I am older, I can understand how fantastic my story must have seemed and that a number of factors combined to prevent me from being believed. First, there was the legendary nature of the Mazed Band, contrasted with the reality of the ring I possessed, which appeared to be nothing special. Then there was my own relative youth and my apparently easy victor over so feared an opponent as Barilzar. It is easy to be philosophical now, but at the time, I was terribly frustrated and even a bit hurt at being so casually dismissed. I could not escape the feeling that I was being told by condescending elders,

“That’s nice, dear. Now run along and play.”

Given the disinterest of the people I trusted, I had no choice but to return to those who I did not. Nothing was left but to speak to Fedris Hler.

When I recounted my experiences to the Temple Steward, his reaction surprised me. I was prepared for sneering contempt or even outright disbelief, but Hler’s response was something quite different. As I finished, his normally hooded eyes opened wide in surprise and possibly…fear? He waved away the ring and said,

“You got the Mazed Band? Interesting.... I won't be the one to take it. Speak with the priest, Drin. He'll know what should be done.”

The Archcanon’s reaction and orders surprised me even more than those of the Temple Steward. He looked at the ring with interest and then said,

“You've been able to retrieve the Mazed Band? Amazing...Almalexia will want to hear about this immediately. You are to speak with her directly. I hope you realize what an honor you're receiving, Trey.”

I stammered, “Speak directly? To Almalexia? Me?” The last word was, I am ashamed to admit, more of a squeak.

Gavas Drin replied impatiently,

“Yes, the Lady requests your presence at once. It is best not to keep her waiting. You will find her in the High Chapel.”

As always, the answers I received seemed to lead to more questions, questions without solutions. In this case, what I wondered was how I had gotten into this mess and, more important, how I would get out of it.

lol - Another good update Trey Looking forward to see how the meeting between Trey and Almalexia goes

Seems that Trey in Mournhold is nearing its end now...Trey has just passed the tenth quest out of the seventeen in the Mournhold MQ...not so many left now.

I liked Trey's reaction to being told to speak with Almalexia directly, he seemed as excited as I was when I first got the chance to meet her. Anyways I'm looking forward to the meeting as well and the rest of the story obviously.

Continue soon.

Ah well.....two awesome updates since I was around last! As usual I found a qoute which I loved!

I promise I´ll really get around to do the Mournhold quests after reading this story to its end....Oh dear it will end??? NOes! I never want the stories of Trey to end.....never!!!! Ya hear me sweet treydog??????

We got Bloodmoon and a couple of mods don't we?

Oh aye! Quite right there Fuzz.....let´s hope our Trey will continue his marvellous adventures for a loooooong time to come!

Even today, I do not have the words to express how reluctant I was to meet Almalexia. My attitude regarding the gods was straightforward- I tended to ignore them in the profound hope that they would extend the same consideration to me. The disdain I felt for the nobility paled in comparison to my feelings about the so-called “Nine Divines.” As for the Tribunal of Morrowind, my usual antipathy was flavored with a large dose of skepticism. It was hard to find much written about the origins of the three beings who formed the “new” pantheon of Morrowind, and most of that material came direct from the Temple itself. Nevertheless, all sources agreed that the three “beings” who became the Tribunal had begun their existence as mortals. And my own short and brutal life had taught me one certainty- every mortal creature eventually dies. Any discussion of how Almalexia, Sotha Sil, and Vivec had managed to become gods got vague very quickly. In fact, it seemed to consist largely of the “it-was-a-miracle-now-stop-asking-inconvenient-questions” variety. To put it a different way, what I doubted was Almalexia’s divinity, not her power. And I knew enough of the arbitrary nature of the gods to fear a mortal with god-like powers even more. Nothing good could come from attracting the attention of the gods- as far as I was concerned, escaping their notice was the secret to a long and happy life. The gods were not like watchmen or kings- you couldn’t fool them by changing your name, or combing your hair differently, or moving to another town. Despite Plitnius’ advice, I did not polish my armor or put on a better set of robes before my audience with Almalexia. After all, she wanted to see me, not the other way ‘round. Fine then- let her see me as I was. If she wanted to turn me into a newt, it wouldn’t matter to me that I was the best-dressed newt in Mournhold.

The doors to the High Chapel, which had always been magically locked before (what can I say, I was a thief- I always checked closed doors out of habit, rather like a cat does) now opened at my touch. The Chapel was dimly lit and sparsely furnished, with a high dome supported by slender columns. The floor was an intricate mosaic of green and yellow tiles forming a pattern that attracted the eye. In the center of the chamber stood a golden figure, which I took to be a statue, until I realized that it was floating above the floor. This was the goddess Almalexia, surrounded by her elite guards, known as “Hands.” Except for her hair, which was a fiery red, everything about the goddess was gold- her skin, even her eyes. I knew that the Dunmer had once been the Chimer, a race of gold-skinned elves- but I had never expected to see living evidence. I was somewhat taken aback by the tattoos on her arms, legs, and torso; but then I recalled that she had been a warrior before ascending to her present status. Her face was too strong to be called beautiful; in fact, it had an alien quality, missing some essential bit of that which makes us human. After a long, uncomfortable time of staring at each other, she bade me approach. Although I suspected I was taking a risk, I decided that I would not kneel. If she wanted my help, I would listen; if she wanted my worship, she was going to be disappointed.

Her first question surprised me- rather than asking about the Mazed Band or Barilzar, she inquired whether I had found any information about a group called the “End of Times Cult.” Confused, I replied:

“Cult, my lady? I was not aware of any such group.”

Her answer failed to enlighten me further, as she simply stated,

“They will not continue to exist in my city.”

It was odd- the words were without conviction or emotion, as if she had left those aspects of humanity behind her, as well. Seeking to bring the conversation back to more familiar ground, I carefully extracted Barilzar’s Ring from a pocket and held it before me. Unsure whether I should approach closer or not, I remained in place and said,

“I believe this may be the Mazed Band. Gavas Drin told me that you required it….?”

Moving languidly, Almalexia lifted the ring from my outstretched palm and examined it minutely. Again, neither her voice nor her expression revealed any hint of emotion. At last, she raised her eyes to my face and said,

“An interesting item, is it not? It seems ordinary enough, but it is much more. The ring is cold now, but the embers of its power still burn hot within. I will use my magic to reawaken this power.”

That would have been enough for most people and should have been enough for me, but I was never able to restrain my curiosity (or my mouth). Perhaps it was because Barenziah had planted the question in my mind or perhaps it was because I was nettled that the goddess seemed so unaffected after all I had gone through- in any event, I inquired,

“And what do you hope to do with the ring?”

At last, a hint of something appeared on Almalexia’s face, there and gone so quickly that I could not interpret it. When she spoke, her voice was again cool and composed:

“Do not concern yourself too deeply in these matters, friend Trey. I will use the ring as I do everything...to serve the Temple and all of Morrowind. You have been a pleasant surprise to meet. I have seen something in you that I have not seen in a very long time. I bestow the blessing of My Light upon you. May it serve you well. We will speak again soon.”

Before I quite knew what she was about, the goddess placed her right hand on my head and spoke some few words that I could neither understand nor recall. A blast of icy cold passed through me and then I was released. As I staggered out of the Chapel, taking a silent inventory of my anatomy, I understood that she had gifted me with the ability to cast a spell that would restore all of my attributes. Although such a spell would be useful, I could not help but wonder if I had paid too high a price for it. My worry was profound, for I was certain of one thing- when I looked at Almalexia, I looked upon the face of madness.

Yet again, a strong post by Trey. You really brought out the character of Almalexia. Really enjoyed the newt remarks as well.

To bask in the (less than) glorious presence of a "god" seems like quite an experience for Trey. I am encouraged by his concern over Almalexia and her state of mind. Such caution will serve him well in the days to come.

So, he's not too happy with meeting a 'god'. Good for him, caution makes you live longer.

It seemed that I had reached the end of my options- Helseth refused to come out of hiding; Almalexia was likely insane and certainly unnerving; and none of the people I trusted seemed to have any advice for me. Perhaps the best thing would be to get a good meal, followed by sleep in a comfortable bed- those were both things I had often dreamt of when they seemed as unattainable as the stars. As I reached the Winged Guar, a familiar phrase came to my ears and I turned to see a white-robed Dunmer priest. He was exhorting passersby to “prepare for the End of Times,” which was the phrase that had caught my attention. The goddess had made some mention of an End of Times Cult during our conversation- now I had found one of its priests. Usually it is a bad idea to engage street preachers in conversation- you generally end up feeling as if your head will explode from trying to follow their rambling denunciations of everything from tooth powder to dramatic actors. But I felt that anyone who had drawn the negative attention of the Tribunal Temple was worth listening to- he might actually know something of use. The priest said his name was Eno Romari and that he had once been a part of the Temple. Through his study of ancient texts and an awareness of current events, he had determined that the days of the Tribunal gods were waning, and that all the people of Morrowind needed to prepare for the change that was coming. Curious, I asked him to describe his beliefs. With a smile, he replied,

“Our beliefs are very simple, dear friend. The blessed Tribunal, though once filled with glory, are no longer the gods they once were. As with the tides and Tamriel's moons, all cosmic powers will wax and wane. But, when gods die, it creates ripples throughout the lands. The passing of the Three will be a prelude to the end of this era, and the beginning of the next. The followers of the End of Times are making ourselves ready for this to happen.”

When I nodded attentively, he warmed to his subject, seemingly happy to have at last found a receptive audience.

“We realize that the end of the era will bring many changes. We believe that the gates of Oblivion will open, and the multitude of daedra will roam this world freely. Some might tell you that this is a good thing, that we are descended from the daedra and it will be a return to the natural order of things. I know differently, though. The coming age will be a time of great horror. The Daedra Princes are not our ancestors. Nor are they our allies. They will wash over the land, destroying all that man and mer have built over these thousands of years. The only protection from this scourge will be our true ancestors that have gone before us and watch over us even now. Many of our followers choose to participate in the Cleansing, to prepare the way for the rest of us. It is a sacrifice to be sure, but it is for the greater good.”

Something about the tone with which he said “the Cleansing” caught my attention, so I inquired about that ritual. Growing serious, Romari explained,

“It is a glorious ritual, friend Breton. Our followers cleanse themselves of all of their troubles, all of their burdens here on this earth. They send themselves ahead to the ancestors, spreading our word, making ready for when we shall all join them in our fight against the daedric hordes.”

That sounded suspiciously like a very wordy way of saying that these people were committing ritual suicide. That was as much as I really needed to know about these “End of Times” folk, so I bade the priest good day and continued into the tavern. Still, Eno Romari’s words had given me much to think about. I was not sure if I believed his doomsday predictions- either generally or specifically. He could just be an unbalanced individual whose exposure to the rigors of the Temple had pushed him completely over the edge. Still, his contention that the Tribunal gods were weakening fit with my own speculations. I had no knowledge of Sotha Sil or Vivec, but I could well believe that Almalexia was falling into madness and possibly mortality. On the other hand, I doubted that the Temple was going to fail in the next few hours, and I could hear a meal, a bath, and a bed calling out to me. Right now, those were the three gods I was willing to worship.

For a wonder, my sleep was untroubled and dreamless. However, that blessing was more than offset by the nightmare that greeted me upon awakening. I was roused by the sound of running feet and shouted questions. The attempts on my life over the last few months had honed my senses and reflexes to the point that I was out of the bed, sword in hand, before I even came fully awake. I began to make out some words, repeated over and over, apparently in response to questions- “attack…fight… Plaza.” Without waiting to consider my actions, I donned my armor and ran outside. From the southeast, the direction of the Plaza Brindisi Dorom, I could hear the sounds of fighting. My first thought was that Helseth and Almalexia had finally come to open battle and I wondered what had precipitated it. Entering the Plaza, I discovered that the Royal Guards and Ordinators were indeed fighting, but as allies against a common foe. From the shadows of the gate I was able to watch the swirl of combat and make out some details. First, the…creatures…battling the guards were completely unfamiliar to me. They seemed to be some unnatural combination of flesh and machinery. I had encountered Dwemer constructs in the ruins of Arknghthand, and these were similar and yet different. There were at least two types: a large, quadrupedal sort that rather resembled a cross between a small dragon and a large scorpion, and a more slender, bipedal creature that looked like a mechanical version of an agile guar or alit. Whatever they were and wherever they had come from, I could not simply stand by while men and elves fought against them. Always before, I had fought alone. Now the sight of others fighting against nightmare creatures brought on a sort of battle madness and I wondered if Hloggar had been correct when he said that the blood of Skyrim flowed in my veins.

Whatever the reason, I still fought as I always had, quietly and with an eye toward staying alive. Given the chaotic nature of the fight, I also reasoned that it would need to be sword work- firing arrows into such a swirling mass might be unwise. There was too great a chance that I would hit a guard or an Ordinator. It was not that I would mind hitting one of them so much as I did not wish to deal with the questions that would be sure to follow. Moving around the fringes of the battle, I did my part. Wherever I saw man or elf beset by two or more of the creatures, I darted in from the side or rear. Whatever the creatures were, a cut to the back of the leg brought them down and a thrust to the neck stopped their movement. If I make it sound easy, I do a disservice to all who fought there. Whoever or whatever it was that had merged living tissue and machinery had done a frightfully good job- the creatures were as strong as the largest Dwemer constructs, but much more clever. They were also remarkably fast, as I discovered when one of the bipeds whipped its head around and nearly took my arm off. I was saved only by quick shield work and an Ordinator, who disappeared back into the melee before I could call my thanks. And then, as quickly as it had begun, the fight was over. A profound silence fell upon the Plaza, broken only by calls for aid and the hisses and squeals as the last of the creatures were dispatched. It was somewhat amusing to watch the Royal Guards and the Ordinators rather stiffly acknowledging one another before retreating to their usual posts. Even though they had fought side-by-side, saving one another’s lives, there was too much between the Temple and the king for them to become friends so easily.

After taking a healing potion, I surveyed the scene. The statue that had graced the center of the Plaza was smashed and the bodies of the creatures leaked peculiar fluids onto the stones. Curious, I approached and collected samples for later study. As a student of alchemy, I was always interested in the possible properties of new substances. The liquids were quite heavy and felt oily, with an odd sheen. As I worked, one of the Royal Guards approached and gruffly thanked me for my help. Then he asked me to let Tienius Delitian know what had passed. A few minutes later, an Ordinator made the same request, excepting that he wanted me to go straight to Fedris Hler with a report. Now that the crisis was over, things were back to normal, with the king and goddess at each other’s throats. Just another perfect day in Mournhold.

Trey is indeed turning into quite the hero. Not only does he show both wisdom and patience in learning about the end of times cult, but he also shows great bravery in his fight in the plaza. It was good to see that he didn't just let the guards deal with the creatures, but risked his own neck to help defend a city he almost hates. Well, perhaps more accurately, a city whose leaders he despises. It would seem his feelings for the common man show a little more practicality and protective concern.

The question now is who is Trey going to report to? He obviously isn't very fond of either company... I am all ready eager to find out!

The Royal Guards wanted me to speak only to their captain and the Ordinators wanted me to speak only to the Temple Steward. I, as usual, had a different idea. I had already been working with both factions- not so much playing them against one another as refusing myself to be the pawn of either. Therefore, I would follow my usual practice of reporting to both Tienius Delitian and Fedris Hler. If either wanted to make an issue of it, I could always tell them to find another errand boy. When I entered the throne room, eyes swiveled to follow my progress and conversations ceased. My clothing was stained with the ichor of the creatures from the Plaza, and it was clear that I had been involved in the fighting. Delitian maintained his usual calm demeanor as I informed him that the city had been attacked by strange beasts, but they had been beaten back. He responded with a laconic,

“I have heard about the attack on the city and I’ve dispatched guards to take care of it. Thank you for your report. You can help in another way. I’d like you to investigate the disturbance.”

When I asked what precisely he wanted me to investigate, the captain gave one of his brief smiles and replied,

“Obviously, we can't allow these attacks to continue, but we need to know more about the source. It seems the attacks originated from some Dwemer ruins that have been buried deep beneath Mournhold. The Memorial statue has been destroyed, and we've cleared a passage below. My reports tell me that the creatures that attacked were at least partially mechanical, so perhaps they were of Dwemer origin. I want you to explore these ruins, find out where these creatures have come from, and report back to me.”

Taking my leave of Delitian, I stepped out the door and used my amulet of Almsivi Intervention to go directly to the Temple. Despite the speed of my arrival, word of my activities had traveled still faster and Fedris Hler was not totally happy with me. His first words were a mild reprimand:

“I understand you have already spoken to Tienius Delitian about the attack on the city. He is correct in having you investigate, but you should bring any information to me. This is a Temple city and it is a Temple matter. We will deal with it. Let me repeat- do just as Delitian suggested: investigate the ruins of the Dwemer city that have opened in the Plaza Brindisi Dorom. When you have learned anything about these creatures, these fabricants, return to me and report your findings. The Temple will deal with this.”

As I left the Temple, two seemingly unrelated events came into focus in my mind- Almalexia’s desire for the Mazed Band, a ring which was supposed to be able to summon creatures from other worlds; and, a mere 24 hours later, an attack on Mournhold by creatures no one had ever seen before. Was it just coincidence, or something more? And if the goddess was behind the attack, what was her motive? Or had it been an accident, a slip as she learned to control the ring? While I might not find answers to those questions, I would soon learn more about what lay beneath the Plaza- in that at least, Hler and Delitian were agreed. One other seemingly insignificant detail that stayed in my mind- even while he claimed ignorance of the creatures’ origins, Fedris Hler had given them a name- “fabricants.” If he had never heard of them before, how did he know what they were called? Some days, I felt as if I was simply a giant question mark and that answers were scarcer than diamonds- and more precious.

Since I did not know what I might find below the Plaza, I replenished my supply of arrows and made sure that I had plenty of restorative potions. Regretfully, I set aside the fabricant ichor for later study- there was not enough time for a careful analysis of its properties. When I reached the Plaza, the bodies of the creatures had been removed and a crude wooden ladder had been lowered into the gaping hole below the broken statue. While those preparations had been made, no one seemed terribly anxious to descend into the depths- they apparently hoped that some other fool- ah, brave adventurer- would take on that task. As I reached the top of the ladder and glanced around at the gathered Ordinators and Royal Guards, some of them made encouraging gestures, but they all stood well back from the opening and kept a tight grip on their weapons. Somehow, I could not avoid the feeling that I was being dangled above the waters of a dark lake as a way of seeing if anything was biting. Like- say, giant carnivorous frogs.

A brilliant line that quite adequately sums up the dangers of Mournhold. I'm looking forward to seeing what Trey does when he realizes the source of the fabricants. It seems he already realized the Temple knows more than it is letting on, since Fedris did give the abominations a name.

An awesome Trey-quote:



Our hero continues his adventures in Mournhold.....which immediately make me think of this quote:



For me this is all unexplored areas.....so exciting....

Wonderfully described as usual.

Oh and I´m sorry to not have commented more than once on the last three additions, won´t happen again!

This is interesting. I doubt they're Dwemer. From what I've seen, Dwemer prefer 100% mechanical thingies.

Now let's see how Trey can get through this without getting eaten or something.

Hehe, Trey is really starting to get tired of not getting answers to all those questions he has. Can't wait to see how this pans out

In a way, I was anxious to see the supposed Dwemer ruin beneath the city. Perhaps there would be some clues as to who the mysterious, mechanically-inclined elves had been. There might also be great dangers-it seemed that many of Mournhold’s current problems were a result of the decision to rebuild on top of the ruins of the destroyed city. Recalling my recent fight with Barilzar, I could not help but consider that while burying your problems may seem like a good solution, sometimes they refuse to stay dead. Those thoughts occupied me as I made the long descent to the area beneath the Plaza. The ladder reached a small chamber that was filled with rushing water and the broken remains of the statue above. A tunnel opened to the north, and I heard the clash of metal, as well as the crackle of magical lightning from that direction. As I crept down the passage, it was clear that it had been hastily clawed out of the surrounding rock and soil, looking rather as if something had been burrowing to the surface. As I rounded a bend, I glimpsed finished walls decorated in the Dwemer style beyond the tunnel mouth and realized that I was high up on one side of a huge room in the ancient Dwemer ruin. The architecture and decoration of the place intrigued me, but I had no time to study it, for there was a fight taking place before my eyes. Crouching against the wall, I watched in fascination as more of the “fabricants” clashed with Dwemer constructs. The fight was over in minutes, with the Dwemer guardians holding the field. It was not an easy victory, though, as attested by the piles of metal and puddles of leaking fluids scattered around the chamber. Although my assigned task was complete, I watched for a while longer, for the Dwemer constructs were unfamiliar to me. I cannot describe exactly how they were different than what I had seen before, except to say that they seemed more…advanced. They were certainly more deadly, and I had seen one variety apparently making use of some form of magic. As nothing else seemed about to happen, I gladly returned to the fresh air and sunlight of the Plaza.

While the sky was clear, my thoughts were less so. I now had a choice- should I report to Delitian or to Fedris Hler? In a way, it seemed hardly to matter- each of them appeared to know what the other did almost instantly. Any naïve notions I might have had that I was the only spy working for one or the other of the powers in this city had been dispelled long ago. It was rather like the old riddle about fighting a dragon- would you rather approach the head or the tail? Of course, the answer was, “Flip a coin. Because it doesn’t matter; you’ll be just as dead either way.” In the spirit of fair play, I decided to talk to the Temple first this time. More to the point, I had a feeling that they, or at least their goddess, knew more about this business than they were saying. When I spoke to Hler, he accidentally confirmed what I suspected- at least he did if you had a nasty, suspicious mind.

“You say these new creatures were fighting with the Dwemer creatures? This is very disturbing. Only someone with great power could control these fabricant creatures. Almalexia will be interested to hear this news. I'm sure she'll have some insight into it.”

Yes, indeed. Someone with great power. Perhaps, for example, someone who now possessed Barilzar’s Mazed Band? My suspicion was now so strong that I feared it must be obvious to anyone who looked, especially to Almalexia. In my audience with the goddess, I had gotten the feeling that she could see right through my skin and into my soul. However, Hler had given me just enough room to interpret his words. He had not explicitly told me to report to the goddess- he had merely implied it. That was enough of a gap for me to wriggle through, and I did, heading immediately for the Palace. I did not really believe that Delitian could or would protect me- but I doubted that Almalexia was yet willing to risk the open confrontation it would precipitate if she sent her minions to take me from the Palace by force. And besides, I still had to make my second report.

When I entered the Throne Room, there was a heightened tension in the air; all the guards seemed to be standing straight rather than assuming their usual bored slouch. And then I realized that a person I had never seen before stood at the center of the dais, talking to Tienius Delitian. He was tall, with the gray skin and red eyes of the Dunmer. And he was wearing a purple robe with a scarlet panel embroidered in gold with the royal lions of Wayrest and stylized dragons of the Empire. Last of all, atop his head was a crown. My breath quickened- Helseth had come into the open.

Here at last was the man I had compromised my very soul to meet. His appearance was actually a bit disappointing- I had always thought that evil would have far more… presence. What I saw was a youngish man of Dunmer descent, handsome in a rather emaciated way. His eyes spoke of a dark intelligence and seemed to burn with some inner light. That was perhaps the only indication of the ambition and arrogance which had set him on his murderous path to the throne. And now he was within my reach. Because I was in the Throne Room, I had been forced to wear my robe and set my shield aside. But I still wore my Dark Brotherhood armor and my sword was belted to my waist beneath the robe. The garment hindered my sword arm, so my draw was not as smooth as I would have liked. Still, the time it cost me was equaled by the startled paralysis of the Imperial guards. I could think of no battle cry or words that could do justice to the way I felt about Helseth, so I made no sound as I launched myself toward him, sword-point foremost.

The fierce rush of joy I felt as I saw the fear in his eyes was snuffed when a massive form like a mountain of red steel intercepted my lunge. It was Karrod, the huge Redguard who never spoke. With an almost casual flick of his shield, he deflected my blade, causing it to strike sparks from the marble floor. He did not move to attack me, but simply held his shield again at the ready. Others had begun moving, though, overcoming their surprise. As I gathered myself to try again, a wall of armored figures interposed itself between me and the king. Worse still, I could sense more guards moving in behind me. With a despairing wail, I launched myself at the red-armored barricade, hoping to somehow cut my way through to the king, to at least make him bleed a little in payment for my suffering. Before I could reach him, I felt a blow strike my right side. My armor turned the edge of the blade, but the force still drove the breath out of me. Then the strikes became too many to count- I felt blades piercing my back and my sides. My lungs began to fill and I went to my knees, coughing. The sword fell from my hand, too heavy to lift. Careful steps circled in from my left and I raised my eyes enough to see Tienius Delitian staring down at me. His face was grim and he held his sword at shoulder height. In a deep voice, he intoned,

“You are brave, but still a fool and a traitor. For treason, there is only one penalty. For your bravery, I will make it quick.”

The last thing I saw as the captain’s sword began its arc toward my neck was the hated face of Helseth. His lips moved and I wondered what abominable lie they were shaping now. Oddly enough, he seemed to be saying, “Mother.”

Here Ends Chapter 6

Ahhhhh!!! You are too cruel Trey! This has been the most gripping cliffie I have ever read! I need more!

This chapter has been quite inspiring, the Mournhold plot is reaching it's near climax, I can't wait for the bad stuff to go down.

I'll be dying until your next post.

Great work!

NOOOOO!!!! Dragon Skin and Almsivi Intervention. There's still a way out. Don't give up!

Ahem, this is one hell of a cliffhanger indeed. And I knew that these Fabricant thingies weren't Dwemer. Good job.

NOOOOOOO!
ALthough it was a tad foolish to just blithely attack him with so many guards about the place...

AAAAAARRRGGHHH.....pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease don´t let Trey die....uhh,,he can´t because the story continues later! phew!

Oh please don´t let us wait too long for an update!

Sorry for not commenting more Trey but I've been pretty busy lately. Anyways I see an update here and I come to read that Trey is wounded after attempting to assassinate the king? Amazing...I really can't wait to see how the next chapter continues.

No worries Kiln- you might want to look at the Chapter 7 thread to see how things turn out....

Oh man I didn't notice that you'd already posted part of chapter 7. I gotta check out what happens.

Read your original story a few months before Oblivon came out, just joined the forum yesterday.

Great job with this addition! I look forward to reading more.

Oi!!...Queen or not...My burrow is lovely ta... ...

Fair dues...Still loving this...

And something else I keep forgetting to mention...

I'm still stunned by how, now and again, the readers just drop off...And there seems to be, like, one reply...

Yeeees...I'm biased and obviously there's a reason I'm going through your story...But even without the chumradeship, this story is brilliant...Fantastically written...Trey's character is just so funny in his reaction to everything and everyone...And obviously a Capable Adventurer™...

And while this still happens now with the stories I enjoy...Jack Cloudy's two, Phon's Niamh and Saquira's stories spring instantly to mind...It still stuns me that stories this good can be overlooked...I just don't understand it...

I really must go look at the other stories that were here from around 2006, they must have been amazing for people to be ignoring this one... ...

BTW...I absolutely loved the whole meeting with Barenziah...That was awesome...And then the whole thing with the ring and Almalexia was brilliantly done...

I love the idea of the Tribunal, I must read more about them...But from the first bit with the unnerving golden bint, I really need to start playing games on the PC... ...

Loving it still...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...


PS...You realise that the main reason for replying is so that the bit I'm on goes to the top of the page, don't you?... ...

I may have been still trying to read The Wheel of Time when I wrote that line... and thus had badgers on the brain. That sound... painful.

And- yes- there are some quite professional stories out there in the "older stuff."

I would ALSO strongly recommend searching out Rumpleteasza's "The King and I" on the Interwebz. You will be very happy you did so.

Realized I failed to answer an earlier question about a "Morrowindian" part of the story.

Beggar's Nose is the in-game name of a "minor power (spell)" available to those born under the sign of The Tower. The other power that comes with it is "Tower Key," which is a once-a-day unlock spell.

Beggar's Nose can be cast as long as one has the mana to power it and shows: enchantments (anything magical- weapons, potions, items), creatures (hostile or otherwise) but NOT "people," and keys- all within a... 60 foot?... radius.

So- for Trey- that was a no-brainer birth-sign.

200 foot radius. For a full minute.

In a Vanilla Morrowind Setting, the spell is one of the most powerful in terms of cost-to-power ratio, and the one that is most useful in a long-term sense, as no other spell; custom or otherwise, can meet it's economy or effectiveness in determining the extended environment to the PC.

Dungeons, especially crypts or tombs, the icons that appear on the character's mini-map are also present in Inventory Mode which pauses the game. This can allow the character to 'plan' out their next moves in relation to the detection.

I've retconned my own character birthsign several times, and included this once. It was when I recalled that Trey shared it that I changed it to: "The Serpent" as the similarities in our styles and characters were far too many to simply ignore this.

But, yeah. Beggar's Nose kicks butt! If you're playing a mage character however, in Vanilla Morrowind you'll need one of the Mage Signs. I'll usually go with Atronach as you get the most bang for your buck and Mana doesn't regenerate naturally in Vanilla, and you get a 50% Spell Absorbtion without the weakness to magicka from 'The Apprentice'.