I sepecially loved the bit with the *child* drawings. Somehow I believe it was a serious warning that Trey failed to understand. Luckily he carries so many potions on him it forms a second layer of armour. (Yes, I read that in an earlier part) Good work.

Right both times . Misinterpreting the warning text and accompanying drawings was probably somewhat "intentional" on Trey's part- "But I want to see the pretty fire! I want to watch things go 'BOOM!'" And I decided to use his knowledge of alchemy against him- he knows a lot, but not about explosives....

I believed that the ash storm had precipitated the suicides, but I had to be certain. Therefore, I hastened to Godsreach, where I found Eno Romari in a transport of ecstasy, crowing that the end of times had come, just as he had prophesied. Gaining his attention, I asked him what he meant and he pointed upward at the falling ash and proclaimed,

“The power of the Tribunal weakens and that of Red Mountain grows. See how Dagoth Ur stretches forth his hand even unto Mournhold! Some of the faithful have already completed the Cleansing, going ahead to strengthen us in the coming battle.”

In a shaking voice, I told the prophet that the ash storm was none of Dagoth Ur’s doing, but my own, at the prompting of Almalexia. I hoped those words might prove to him that what he took as a sign was simply the machinations of the goddess, but he interpreted it differently. He laughed maniacally and intoned,

“The goddess created these storms to teach my group true power? So much the better. They will come to me in droves! This madness is surely another sign of the troubles to come!”

It appeared that no matter what happened, Romari would find a way to twist it to fit his wretched prophecy. If the sun came out, he would probably claim that it was the opening of a gate to Oblivion. Unfortunately, the root of his beliefs was not false- Almalexia had descended into madness, a madness that blinded her to the consequences of her actions. She was consumed with the need to prove that she was still powerful, and would go to any lengths in service of that need. But what excuse did I have? I had been her willing tool in this deceit, and now seven people were dead. I must make amends if I could. There was no way to bring back the seven who were lost, but perhaps I could prevent more from following them. The onset of the ash storms had prompted the suicides- perhaps if they ceased, the cultists would also pause. Without stopping to rest, I returned to Bamz-Amschend and the controls of the weather machine. But my efforts were futile- Almalexia had been true to her word and magically locked the levers in place. The ash storms would continue until I could convince her to let them end.

I wanted to scream, to drink myself into a stupor, to rage against the madness that permeated the city of Mournhold. For one of the few times in my life, I even considered committing murder. It would be easy- so easy to slip a blade between Eno Romari’s ribs and disappear into the swirling ash storm that I had created. But none of those things would stop the storm. And I could not be certain that Romari’s death would slow his followers’ march to destruction. In fact, it might have the opposite effect. What troubled me the most was that there was no time. If I was going to prevent more deaths, I would have to act quickly. The seven who were already dead were beyond my reach- but there must be others who might still be saved. I had to find some way to break through Almalexia’s insanity, to reason with her, to get her to cease her “demonstration of power.” Although hope was gone, strength was gone, I had to return to the Temple, to try to convince the goddess. But that visit was as useless as my attempt to stop the Dwemer machine. When I suggested that the storms had been effective and could now end, the goddess frowned at me and said,
“The Karstangz-Bcharn is creating the weather just as I had hoped. And it will remain this way until I am convinced that these people have learned a lesson.”

No amount of pleading on my part would change her mind, so I desperately sought some other means. Perhaps I could draw her attention outward from herself, back to her worshipers and their needs. She might be willing to exchange a favor for a favor, so I asked,

“Is there any other service I might perform for you?”

A long, uncomfortable silence ensued, as the goddess stared at me unblinking. At last, she gave a pensive sigh, an oddly human reaction from that seemingly emotionless entity. When she spoke, her voice was quieter than usual, as if she wanted only me to hear her words.

“I am well-pleased, good and faithful servant. My people look upon the elements, and see there written a divine testament to my leadership. Did ever any other god display such dominion over the earth and sky?”

I restrained myself from pointing out the obvious- that Almalexia herself had done nothing to bring about the storm, and that her people were fearful rather than worshipful. But even as those thoughts passed through my mind, she continued,

“Now, with a heavy heart, I must lay a sad burden upon you. I bid you bring the peace of understanding to Salas Valor. You see, one of my most faithful guards, one of my very own Hands of Almalexia, pledged to honor and protect and serve me in all ways, has lost his mind. Salas Valor has abandoned me, and now spews vile and slanderous untruths about me to any who would listen. I pity him, and know he is not responsible for his actions. To view the splendor of a god may drive even the strongest mortal mad. But now he presents a threat to us, and he is very dangerous. I fear you may not be able to spare his life.”

Unsure what reaction she expected, I said nothing, but merely nodded once as a sign that she should go on. That seemed to satisfy her and she explained more about the missing Hand.

“Salas Valor was once my most trusted Hand and faithful servant. But recently his behavior has been erratic. He has been quiet and unresponsive. I am afraid... I may have allowed him to come too close. It is impossible that a mortal and a god might meet on equal ground, but... perhaps he had deluded himself. I regret his lamentable state, and am sorry that I may have been partly responsible for his condition. Now Salas Valor haunts the streets and sewers of Mournhold. His wild, distracted manner frightens the people, but even my Ordinators are afraid to confront so terrible a weaponmaster and war-wizard. I beg you -- seek out Salas Valor. Relieve us of this threat to my beloved people, and bring peace to my sacred city of Mournhold.”

I left the Temple, my head filled with questions that I could not and, perhaps, did not want to- answer. First, how did Almalexia want me to “relieve the threat” posed by Salas Valor? And hard on the heels of that thought, who did the crazed Temple guardian actually threaten, other than the goddess herself? And I could not help but wonder, rather queasily, just how “close” the goddess and her guard had become. Close enough that it apparently drove the missing elf to madness- at least according to Almalexia. And finally, who did she really want to survive this encounter: the renegade Hand- or the Breton who now knew far too much about what she had been doing recently… or perhaps neither one?

It would seem that Trey has been driven to second guess everything now, driven partly by fear and partly by guilt over his own role in current events. I am definitely curious to see how he deals with Salas, especially to see if he can come up with a unique solution that does not further feed his guilt.

Yes, how will he deal with Salas? Her Hands (even insane ones, perhaps especially insane ones) are a lot tougher than Dark Brotherhood assassins, and Trey probably won't be sneaking up on this one, either.

Be interesting to see how Trey attempts to talk him down, first.

Actually, there is a very simple and effective manuever for the more stealthy types, I have played the combat, magic, and stealth specializations in Morrowind, and I found that my level 100 Acrobatics and Marksman allowed me to make mincemeat of Salas Valor from nearby rooftops, that may not be 'honorable', but he fights with a sword that damages and absorbs your strength,....evens out the fight if you keep your distance as far as I am concerned.

Once more Trey, fantastic job.

Well then, for Trey's sake, I hope he can leap onto a rooftop. Somehow I doubt it. But I'm sure Trey will find some way to get the job done; he's very resourceful.

Guilt does make you second guess alot. Well, I can't wait to see how Trey Deals with Valor

Hmm aye.....What dear Soulie just said....My hero Trey just has to deal with things he really doeasn´t like very much..ehh that is knowing Trey, which I dare say I do by now. I´m convinced though thsat he´ll come through it...he just has to, right!

Can´t wait to read the thrilling continuation. Trey is very important to me, I´ve come to know him and I think the world of him....

A short one this time- but it just seemed like a good place to stop.... By the way, I actually did have this written BEFORE Black Hand suggested a way to deal with Salas- guess there are only so many ways for a (relatively) weak, stealthy character to approach this kind of fight.

Finding the missing Hand of Almalexia would not be difficult- I had often seen him stalking the streets of Godsreach with a thunderous expression on his face. In fact, he seemed to spend a great deal of time near Eno Romari. If Salas Valor had decided that Almalexia was slipping into madness, his interest in the cultist made a certain amount of sense- the former Temple warrior likely believed at least some of what the End of Times priest was saying about the weakening of the Tribunal. I was even more sure of another thing- I had no chance of defeating such a fearsome warrior in anything approaching a fair fight. Of course, one of the reasons I was still alive was that I had long ago discarded foolish notions of chivalry and fairness when it came to fighting. To me, it was simple- if I had to fight, I would fight to win- always. And so, even as I approached the former Hand, I was making plans. But maybe it would not come to that; maybe I could talk the formidable elf into leaving Mournhold. That hope lasted only as long as it took for Salas Valor to look at me with haunted eyes and grind out the words,

“So. You’re her new dog.”

To this day, I am not certain how he knew I was there at Almalexia’s bidding, but he did. Perhaps he saw some of his own madness and agony reflected in my eyes. Before I could even begin to frame a calming reply, Valor continued,

“She has sent you for me. Now YOU are her favorite. How convenient. Whichever of us dies…she will be well pleased. And if both of us die, so much the better. Well, I am content. Perhaps this is how it was meant to end. I ask the forgiveness of all the gods and spirits—whoever they may be. And you, too, might make your peace with your gods, because at least one of us will not live to see another sunset.”

I was taken aback by how closely his thoughts paralleled my own- at least insofar as divining what Almalexia really wanted to happen. Nevertheless, I remained focused and alert, for I was facing a deadly fighter. Even so the legal niceties had to be observed. Although Salas Valor had challenged me, I could not strike first without being guilty of a crime. Even worse, if I killed one of Almalexia’s Hands “without provocation,” the penalty would be death. Thus, I had to hold my ground as he drew a wicked ebony scimitar and swung with all his might. At the last second, I lifted my shield and deflected the blow slightly. That meant that the shield shattered instead of my arm. Nevertheless, the sword’s enchantments did almost more damage than I could absorb, draining my strength and stamina, while also blasting me with an icy chill. I had steeled myself for the blow and immediately threw away my broken shield as Valor was recovering from his forceful swing. Rather than draw my own sword, I leapt for the overhanging porch roof of the Winged Guar and pulled myself up. The Hand was so surprised that he did not even have a chance to hack at my vulnerable legs. As soon as I was secure, I barked the magical syllables- “bogha tromhad” and a magical bow appeared in my hands. Setting an arrow to the string, I made my first mistake, for I chose one endowed with a fire spell. When the missile struck, a bloom of flame enveloped the raging fighter below, but a similar blast scorched me, as well. He obviously possessed some means of reflecting magical damage onto an attacker. With that knowledge, I switched to normal arrows, which I drew and loosed as fast as I could. Encumbered by his armor and sword, Valor could not duplicate my acrobatic feat- he also knew that I would take his head off if he tried. Oddly, though, he neither sought shelter nor simply retreated; instead, he stood below me, maintaining a constant stream of invective. At last, having absorbed a great many arrows, he removed his helm, and, with a ghastly smile, placed the point of his scimitar to his throat and pitched forward to impale himself upon the blade. Even with so grievous a wound, it took him some time to die. I understood why the Ordinators had been afraid to confront him.

Uh....sorry?

Regardless, another excellent update Trey.

Haha! Nice reaction Black.

And though short, it was a nice update, Trey. Logical fight, and very interesting that the Hand decided to impale himself. But I guess that seems to be the best thing to do when you're being peppered by arrows by someone you can't reach.

I look forward to seeing Almalexia's reaction upon Trey's return.

I always found it odd that enemies would simply stand and absorb arrows from the player. Perhaps it makes more sense in this case, as it seems that Salas had no real desire to avoid death. Interesting that he should choose to impale himself: it screams samurai. Death with honor in the face of certain defeat. Thanks for another intriguing installment.

He seemed to be heading in that direction from his remarks- so I wrote a better ending for him. Although I generally think of the priests and Hands as reprehensible, or at least wilfully ignorant (at least the ones devoted to Almalexia)- he had the courage to break away from her once he saw what she really was. In a way, Valor is akin to Umbra- ready for death, yet unwilling to die in a "dishonorable" way.

Oh my gosh...For me this was new and unexperienced...I don´t know if I´ll send poor Serene over there, she might be better off wher she is. Besides..she can always talk to Trey about it.

As always a most intriguing and interesting update....So even if I´ll soon be in US I´ll ceertainly try to get hold of a darn comp somewheree just to catch up with my favourite author(s)

Very nice job Trey, and an interesting end for Salas.

When I dropped down from the roof to examine Salas Valor’s body, I found a mystery, but one that I believed I understood. Besides his ornate Hand of Almalexia armor and scimitar, he had been in possession of a dozen deadly missiles. He could have thrown the barbed darts at me at any time, yet he had chosen death instead. Even before I touched them, I could see that the darts were imbued with powerful enchantments. When I ventured to “taste” the magicka on them, I knew without a doubt that they had been bespelled by Almalexia herself. I surmised that although Valor could not bring himself to throw them away, he could not bear to use them, either. It was the same internal conflict that had caused him to leave Almalexia, but kept him in her city. Given that emotional state it was no wonder that he had sought the peace that comes with an honorable death in combat. Although his arms and armor were mine by right of victory, I left them upon his body. Thief though I was, there were some things I would not take. In part, it was because he deserved at least that much honor. But even more was the fact that I had no wish to possess anything that was so deeply tainted with the aura of Almalexia. I had a feeling that none of Mournhold’s scavengers would be foolish enough to despoil the corpse, either. And even if they did take his gear, what merchant would buy it? Not even Ten-Tongues would dare.

I was actually rather interested in seeing Almalexia’s reaction to my survival. Though I doubted her divinity as well as her sanity, she was probably shrewd enough to have calculated my chances of surviving an “honorable” battle with her former guard. I expected her to be surprised and perhaps a bit saddened, not that I was terribly concerned for her “delicate feelings.” Although her face was as unreadable as ever, her words seemed fitting- at least at first:

“Salas Valor is dead? The pain is almost more than I can bear...”

But her “pain” must have been fairly fleeting, as she had the unbelievable bad taste to add,

“…but you have served me faithfully, and it is in my mind to grant you a divine blessing. Would you like skin as tough as iron? Would you like my protection against paralyzing terror? Or would you wish to always bask in the warm comfort of my reflected glory? Quick, now! Choose! You must not keep your Deity waiting!”

Again, her mortality was showing- if she had been a true deity, she would have known how little I desired any “gift” she could provide. I once more felt that strange resonance with poor, mad Salas, who had embraced death rather than use one of Almalexia’s poisoned gifts. Knowing that I walked on the edge of a precipice, I politely refused, saying,

“Nothing at this time, thank you.”

She gave me a penetrating gaze and spoke softly,

“Perhaps you think yourself too proud to accept the gifts of your Mistress? Very well. It shall be as you wish.”

Her gaze seemed to turn inward for a moment, as if she was conversing with a voice that only she could hear. The silence stretched and then she gave me a strange look and seemed to be attempting to smile coyly, almost as if she was….flirting? Just when I believed things could not become more bizarre, Almalexia managed to surprised me. Speaking quietly, she announced,

“And now it is time we talked of greater things. I have watched you since your arrival in Vvardenfell, and you have become a strong and faithful servant to me. None but the Nerevarine could have succeeded as you have. How long I have waited for this! My Nerevar, returned to me at last! I have watched from my Temple as others have made the claim and I have seen them fall. I believe now that you are the one who was prophesied. I believe you now to be the Nerevarine. Though I have watched others come and go, my belief is that you are the child of prophecy. The time has come for you to reclaim your station. Together we can unite Morrowind once again, free from the Imperial yoke.”

Apparently mistaking my stunned silence for rapt interest, she warmed to her theme-

“For years, the Chimer and the Dwemer had been at war. The Dwemer spurned the Daedra that the Chimer worshipped, instead placing their faith in their metal creations. It was only when the Nords invaded Resdayn that the two nations were able to join as one, under the leadership of our Nerevar and the Dwarf-King Dumac. In time, the two generals became blood friends, and on the day that Nerevar and I were wed, Dumac presented us with twin blades, Hopesfire and Trueflame. Each was a magnificent blade, the pinnacle of Dwemer craftsmanship. They burned with an unearthly fire, and the sight of them struck fear into our enemies. My blade has been kept safe, but not so Trueflame, the Blade of Nerevar. It was lost at the battle of Red Mountain.”

She sighed and shook her head sadly, as if watching events and people that had been dust for many centuries. Then she resumed her story.

“The Blade of Nerevar. In the battle beneath Red Mountain, Trueflame was shattered, the flame extinguished, and in the confusion, the pieces lost. It is time for you, Nerevarine, to remake the blade and take your place by my side once again. I have only one part of the blade, which I now give to you. Through my magic, I have been able to determine that the other pieces are nearby. Find the other two pieces and forge the blade anew. Only you may accomplish this, Nerevarine. Look to those in the city that you know and trust for guidance. Find those who would have use for items such as this. Prove your mettle to me, Nerevarine, and soon we will stand together once again!”

With her final words, she ceremoniously presented me with a curved piece of metal, clearly a fragment of a blade. Not knowing what else to do, I took the thing and fled. My horror and disgust nearly choked me. It had been bad enough when Almalexia was using me as her hired help- now she wanted me to become her “husband.” This nonsense had to stop and stop soon, or else I was going to blurt out what I really thought of the “goddess.” Worse than that, the ash storm continued unabated and she seemed not to care. I had to take a stand against Almalexia, but I could not stand alone. There was only one person in all of Mournhold who might have a chance in such a monumental confrontation. I had no choice- I had to take my knowledge and my suspicions to Helseth.

Here Ends Chapter 7

Aww, what, Trey doesn't want to be an insane "goddess's" husband? Great end to chapter 7 Trey, I can't wait for more.

It must be bad if she's driven Trey to Helseth...

I dunno. I might be flirtive back when my story reaches this point, but thats not for a loooong time.

Excellent work Trey, my dog!

Another excellent conclusion to an excellent chapter which is part of an excellent fan fic. Phew, that was a mouthful!

I wouldn't dare wish to be the husband of Almalexia, but I would still forge the blade. Trueflame is quite an amazing sword...

An amazing end to the 7th chapter. The part that I found most shocking was Trey's decision to seek Helseth's help. His entire time in Mournhold has been overshadowed by the powerplays between the throne and the temple, and both have tried to kill him too many times. I hope he knows what he is doing.

SNIP
[quote name='mplantinga' date='Oct 10 2006, 05:33 PM' post='88756']
I hope he knows what he is doing.
/quote]

That would be a first....

Well, he does usually manage to make things work out. On top of that, it begins to be clear that Helseth is probably the more sane of the two great powers in Mournhold. I realize that doesn't say very much....

Uhhhh......so that´s what she wants? Hah.....old Lexie surely is one of a kind! But who knows, maybe the two of them could be "the couple of their time!"

No no....that fate isn´t what I´d wish for my favourite hero, let´s hope he´ll get out of it ok! Anyway a grande final to chapter 7, and since I´ve noticed chapter 8 is up and running I´ll immediately continue reading!

A great hug to treydog!

Fair dues...That's quite the epic spell...And yet another demonstration of Bethesda taking spells away for no real discernible reason...

Soooo, in 200 years we lose all the open locks, carry weight etc?...And the entire of the Mysticism tree?...Go forth... ...

Anyways, end of chapter 6!! Cliffie!!...Beginning of chapter 7!! Waking up in the shower with Bobby Ewing!!...

Well, not quite...But that did give me a hell of a shocker, I tell ya... ...

Brilliant stuff...

Love it!!...