Chapter 13

As I made the slow trek to the Urshilaku camp, I thought about trust. Nothing in my youth had made me believe in the honor or the honesty of others. Mostly, they seemed to be interested in what they could get from you. And, with that philosophy, I had become a thief. But then, I was accepted by House Redoran and made a member of a family. Even though they expected me to perform services for them, they repaid me with loyalty and honor. And then, despite all my worries about their reactions to my role as the Nerevarine, they had continued to support me. The fact was, they trusted me- knew that I shared their code of honor. So much so that they had even sided with me against their Archmaster. And that meant that I should have trusted them to be honorable and fair, as well. Though I didn’t realize it, my musings on trust would be tested much sooner than I had anticipated.

The camp was as I had remembered it- a small cluster of tents in the Ashlands, huddled on the coast of the Sea of Ghosts. These were the people to whom I owed the most, the people whose lives had been made harsh and savage by the constant scheming of the Empire, Dagoth Ur, the Temple, even the Great Houses. If I were to see the path of prophecy to its bitter end, it would be for the Ashlanders that I did so. After greeting the Urshilaku working among the tents, I approached Nibani Maesa’s tent and asked permission to enter. The wise woman smiled to see me, overcoming her usual reserve just a bit. When she asked me, “What news, outlander,” I showed her the tokens of the Great Houses that proved that I had fulfilled the Fourth Prophecy. Then I told her of the attempt by the Temple to lure me to Vivec City, where they no doubt planned to imprison or do away with me. A strange look passed over her face at that, and then she said,

“I have thought long upon the Sixth Trial, Trey. I was blind, but Azura's star has guided me through my dreams. Vivec's high priest, Saryoni, has asked to see you when you are Hortator and Nerevarine. Go to him, and demand to speak with the false god Vivec. Vivec has tried to keep Kagrenac's Tools secret, but you will need these tools when you stand before Dagoth Ur. Get Kagrenac's Tools from Vivec. They are the keys to the riddle of the Sixth and Seventh Trials.”

Completely stunned, I could only stare at her in amazement. How could Nibani, of all people, send me to the very stronghold of our enemies? When I caught my breath, I asked her what Kagrenac’s Tools had to do with anything. She quoted a verse from the Lost Prophecy that I had brought from the Dissident Priests,

“ ‘Star-blessed hand wields thrice-cursed blade.' Gilvas Barelo has told you of Kagrenac's Tools, the enchanted devices the Tribunal use to steal power from Lorkhan's heart. One of these tools is the blade Keening. Your star-blessed hand must wield Keening. If Vivec has this blade, it is your fate to take this blade from him.”

So quickly was my new understanding of trust to be tested- one of my closest advisers counseled me to rely on the honor of one of my greatest opponents. Though my mind rebelled, my heart knew that she was right. If all Azura had wanted was my death, she would have no need to go to so much trouble. Nibani was my guide, appointed to help me find my destiny. I had no choice but to follow her guidance.
Knowing that the ultimate struggle against Dagoth Ur was growing near, I decided to scout the approaches to Red Mountain before I went to Vivec. And, in truth, I was delaying the meeting with Saryoni, for I feared imprisonment and torture above all things. Although I knew that I must go to Vivec, must suffer whatever consequences were to come, still I put it off, with the excuse that I needed to know more about Red Mountain. What I discovered was the presence of evil, but I don’t think it stemmed from Dagoth Ur, at least, not directly. Near the foyada Bani-Dad, I came upon a Velothi dome, which seemed a good place to shelter from the ash-storm which had plagued me almost from the moment I left the Urshilaku. The runes on the entrance marked the ancient dwelling as “Shishi,” a peculiar name that I wish I had never heard. As I emerged into the entry, I nearly stripped over the body of a Dunmer sprawled across the floor. A quick examination revealed her to be a Telvanni servitor, and that she had been cut down by swords. Worse yet, she was unarmed, and the wounds showed that she had been running away from her killer. As I ventured deeper into the dwelling, I found more Telvanni cut down in their tracks. Then in the lower part of the dome, I found the greatest horror of all.

A person dressed in the bonemold armor of House Redoran, my House, stood with bared sword, surveying the carnage and searching the room. When I asked what passed, she turned with a snarl and attacked me. I blocked as best I could, while shouting,

“Cease this madness, Redoran! Do you not recognize one of your own House Fathers?”

My identification of myself as a ranking member of the House only seemed to redouble her fury, and it became clear that I was going to have to do more than block. Since her actions had shown her to be an outlaw, her execution was no more than simple justice. Even so, it went hard for me to be the purveyor of that justice. I heard a voice calling from above, asking,

“Anise? What are you playing at down there? Did you find another Telvanni?”

So there were others involved in this murderous rampage- perhaps they would be more reasonable about explaining their actions. When I reached the top of the stairs, that proved to be a vain hope, as two more Redoran guards set upon me. An icy rage overwhelmed me and I showed those rogues no more pity than they had shown the unarmed Telvanni retainers they had butchered. On the body of the leader, I found a partial explanation, a report that had been written in great haste. The document read,



So, in addition to the crimes of murder and attacking a senior member of his House, this Selas added the venal sin of lying. Only three Redorans had been present, all hale and hearty. And the “five Telvanni sorcerers”? No more than simple unarmed servants, slaughtered when they were trying to escape. Unfortunately, the report was not addressed to anyone, but I vowed that I would find out who had ordered this atrocity. Whether the Telvanni had a legitimate claim to Shishi, I neither knew nor cared. Whatever the case, there was no excuse for this mindless brutality.

Sometimes, trust has to be paid for in blood. Although it horrified me that someone in my House could do such a thing, I was satisfied that I had been the instrument of justice. For good or ill, House Redoran would take care of its own.

good job Trey!!

Well now..what a terrible discovery for our Trey, members of his own house being cold-blooded murders like that, now there must be some kind of explanation here and I´m sure he will find it.

The mystery tightens now....and we all wait eagerly for the continuation.

And as usual this is a wonderfully written story, that has brought many hours of greart reading (I´ve started reading it from start again just for the joy of it!)

So at the end let´s do a "jonajosa" :goodjob:

Great done... :goodjob:

Alas poor Trey, he finally discovers that not all Redoran deeds are noble and not all Telvanni power-obssessed Mage-Lords. Do not think that Great House Telvanni has fogotten the Redoran deeds at Shishi... or that they are forgiven.


Superbly written, as always treydog :goodjob:

After I had rested in Shishi, I continued south to Maar Gan and then used the silt-strider to carry me to Ald’Ruhn, Balmora, and finally, Vivec. I could have used the Mages Guild to instantly send me to my destination, but I wanted a chance to consider what was to come next. Although I had no love for the Ordinators or the Temple, I would prefer not to start a religious war in the middle of Vvardenfell’s largest city. Drawing on my experience as a thief, I knew that if I had to fight my way out, it meant that I had failed. The phrasing of Saryoni’s message added to my confusion. The signature showed that he had dictated the letter, so the contents weren’t precisely “secret.” Still, he had done a great deal of rhetorical tap-dancing to avoid committing himself one way or another regarding taking a position on the prophecies. What it had boiled down to was, “we don’t believe it, but we can’t ignore it, so why don’t you come by for a nice chat?” I was sure that the rack, the hot irons, and the pincers would just be there for the sake of atmosphere. Of course, things didn’t have to go the way the Temple expected. At the first sign of trouble, I would Recall out of there and figure out a different way to approach the Sixth Trial.

When I reached the High Fane, I immediately recognized my contact, Danso Indules. She was pacing about with the nervous energy of a cat in a dog kennel. My sudden appearance did nothing for her frayed nerves. She paled and looked around as if expecting to be struck by lightning just for standing near me. Gesturing urgently, she retreated into the shadowed passageway that ran through the High Fane and hissed,

“The archcanon is in his private quarters, and he very much wishes to speak with you, but I am to warn you... avoid confrontations with the Ordinators at all costs. The archcanon has spoken with the High Fane Ordinators, but if you are a wanted criminal, they may try to arrest you. If the blood of faithful servants of the Temple is spilled, it will make a reconciliation all that much more difficult.”

That was ironic, insisting that I come to Vivec, the base of the Ordinators’ power, and then warning me to avoid them. And on top of that, Saryoni had to know about the public notice that Berel Sala was circulating. If the archcanon was so concerned with secrecy and avoiding confrontations, why hadn’t he suggested a meeting at some out-of-the-way Temple? Just like his letter, this was a sign of a man who wanted to sit on the fence. He had to see me for himself, particularly if he really had read the Apographa, but he wanted to be able to whistle up a company of Ordinators if the conversation took a turn he didn’t like. He was a typical politician, trying to have things both ways, without making a decision. I decided to have mercy on Danso Indules before she died of nervous exhaustion, and asked her about the best way to reach Saryoni’s quarters. She rattled off a couple of different possible paths and then positively scurried away from me, casting fearful looks all about.

A Potion of Shadow got me past the Ordinator at the door to the High Fane, and a bit of creative sneaking carried me down the corridors to the outer door of the Archcanon’s quarters. Unable to resist a little enjoyment at the Temple’s expense, I renewed the Shadow effect and knocked loudly on the door, then stepped to one side. As soon as the door was flung open, I slipped inside, stifling a chuckle as the Temple bureaucrat peered up and down the corridor. Finally, he muttered a most un-priestly phrase and slammed the door. While he was thus occupied, I had made my way to the inner door, which I quickly saw was locked. With the room’s two occupants so close by, I didn’t want to risk trying to twiddle the lock with one of my picks or take the chance that they would sense the release of energy from an unlocking spell. Of course, my Shadow potion was going to wear off soon, so I had to do something…. The ruse I had used to get into the outer office suggested a possibility, so I imbibed a potion that gave me the power of Telekinesis. That allowed me to manipulate the door on the other side of the room, swinging it open without touching it. This time, both the Temple functionaries stormed over to see what was going on, and I quickly spelled open the inner door and slipped inside.

With a word, I dispelled the Shadow effect and made a mocking bow to Tholer Saryoni, adding,

“I believe you had requested my presence over a small matter concerning the source of the Tribunal’s power?”

My lack of respectful obeisance and my choice of an opening topic caused the already pinched lines of the Archcanon’s face to deepen still further. Perhaps I should have been more respectful, but I knew that this man had the power and the knowledge to have mitigated the worst excesses of the Ordinators- and had done nothing. If he expected me to throw myself on the Temple’s “mercy” he was in for a very long wait. Seeing that I was going to be stubborn, Saryoni heaved a great sigh and began, first with an attempt to justify his untenable position,

“The Temple must protect the people from false doctrines. And your association with Imperial intelligence makes your motivations and integrity suspect. But you have been chosen Hortator and Nerevarine by the Dunmer people. And we have reached a crisis with Dagoth Ur. We can no longer defend the people against the awakened Sixth House. You and your prophecies may represent our last hope. Perhaps it is time the Temple changed its doctrine regarding the Nerevarine. Lord Vivec wishes to meet with you.”

That was rather like a man whose leg was being gnawed off deciding it was time to “change his doctrine regarding wolves,” but it was at least a start. And I would believe in that change when I saw it; nothing in the Temple’s history made me feel much like trusting their sincerity. But I was here for one reason only- the “god” Vivec had something I needed. If things went well, he would give it to me voluntarily. If not- it might be time to test the “immortality” of the Tribunal. And that might be good practice before I faced Dagoth Ur, who had also gained his corrupt power from the Heart of Lorkhan. Of course, I did not mention any of those thoughts to Saryoni, but simply indicated my willingness to meet Vivec. Relieved, he straightened and removed some keys from his desk.

“Good. Here are two keys: one to the private back entrance to my quarters, the other to a locked entrance to Lord Vivec's palace. I regret that, at present, the Ordinators are not completely under my control, so, for now, I'll ask you to avoid confrontations with them. Lord Vivec is expecting you. His Lordship is remarkably patient, but perhaps it would be better not to keep him waiting.”

I did not bother to tell the priest that Vivec’s patience or lack thereof was of little concern to me.

You always know how to present your work trey. Good as ever.

:goodjob:

I qoute Jona

[quote=jonajosa]You always know how to present your work trey. Good as ever.[/quote]

and I add, nice and fun way of getting past all of the people and into the archcanon's room

Ah trey.....you amuse me as ever with your way of describing the events, I particularly enjoyed the following :

[quote]. Perhaps it is time the Temple changed its doctrine regarding the Nerevarine. Lord Vivec wishes to meet with you.”

That was rather like a man whose leg was being gnawed off deciding it was time to “change his doctrine regarding wolves,[/quote]

It gave me a great big laugh....


*note to self: tell LoneWolf to read this*


Finally I´ll do a jonajosa: :goodjob:

Lol i already read it, i found that line quite amusing
Great qork Treydog

I should probably just keep up with this continually because I'm always having to catch up.

Now that I have caught up...AWESOME!!!!!! :goodjob:

When preparing to meet a god, even a being who is only notionally a god, the proper demeanor is important. That demeanor may be considered to include attitude, as well as attire. Given that my fashion sense was hopeless, I didn’t worry too much about the attire- my armor and sword would have to do. That left attitude, something with which I was superbly endowed. I was angry, disrespectful, disdainful, and rebellious. In other words, in the perfect frame of mind to meet “Lord” Vivec. Or so I thought.

When I entered the actual Temple, my assumptions about Vivec were radically revised. From the mannerisms of the Ordinators and high Temple functionaries, I had imagined that Vivec would surround himself with luxury and comfort. What I discovered was a nearly empty dome, lit by a few lamps, and containing no furniture beyond a reading stand. If the lack of creature comforts was surprising, Vivec himself was even more so. He floated in mid-air above a small central platform, clad only in pauldrons, a loin-cloth, a bracer on his right arm and a torque on his left bicep. But even more peculiar was his physical appearance. He had the pointed ears, large eyes, and elongated face of all Mer- but his skin was unique. The right side of his body was the golden hue attributed to the Velothi of ancient times and the left was the ash-gray of the present-day Dunmer. I must admit that I spent several seconds simply gawking at him, wondering what sort of being would choose to appear so, and how it had been accomplished. He endured my scrutiny silently, simply watching me with the eyes of a poet- eyes that appeared even more haunted than my own. At last I shook off my bemusement and said,

“I believe you requested my presence?”

In a surprisingly low voice, he responded,

“I expected you. We have business, you and I.”

“Business? What business might I have with a ‘god’?” (The resentment bubbling inside me had not been completely disarmed by Vivec’s appearance or mild manner.)

“When I was young like you, I was very impatient. So I will keep our business short. Then, later, there may be time for other things. First, I propose to remove my curse upon the Nerevarine, end the persecution of the Dissident Priests, and proclaim to all Morrowind that Trey is the Incarnate and Nerevarine, the prophesied savior of Morrowind, and the last hope to withstand the menace of Dagoth Ur and the Sixth House. These things I will do, whether you wish or not.”

When I did not reply, he smiled briefly, and continued,

“Next, I propose to surrender to you the power and responsibility of defeating Dagoth Ur. You may choose to refuse; I will not compel you. You will receive the power as a gift, in the form of an artifact called 'Wraithguard." You may accept the gift, then do with it as you will. You will receive the responsibility as an oath. You may give your oath, then keep it or break it as you like. First, will you accept Wraithguard as a gift?”

Such a straightforward offer was not something I had experienced very often since coming to Vvardenfell. Vivec was offering me a way out from the Temple’s persecution, but balancing it with the responsibility of defeating Dagoth Ur. Oh, and he was going to give me a “gift.” That was the one part of his offer that rang false; after all, I had already had experience of the sorts of “gifts” the gods tended to give mortal men. They were almost always very expensive gifts, both in terms of their monetary value and what they cost the person foolish enough to accept them. Still, I was committed to defeating Dagoth Ur in any event, and Nibani had told me that I must go through Vivec to achieve that goal. Therefore, I said, in a slightly less surly tone,

“Very well. I accept your conditions and your gift.”

Again, Vivec surprised me with his directness-

“Not very sensible. But very good. I was hoping for someone who would have no hesitations about making such an oath. You will now have a brief, momentary sensation of time passing. Don't be alarmed. You are being taken out of time in order to avoid the unpleasant experience of learning how to use Wraithguard. It will be over before...”

A darkness came over me, and I felt as if I were floating in a vast emptiness without a sense of weight or direction.

“ ...you know it. Now. I will notify the Temple that you are our champion. There shall be no more persecution of the Dissident Priests, and I hope both sides shall swiftly be reconciled. We have time for questions, if you like. Or you may leave, as you wish. But I think there are at least two things you ought to know before you leave: how to use Wraithguard, and how to defeat Dagoth Ur.”

Though I was disoriented, I was still willing to listen to any advice Vivec could give me. After all, he was the only being on Vvardenfell who had firsthand knowledge of Dagoth Ur. Whether I trusted him or not was beside the point- I HAD to have his knowledge.

“How do you advise me to defeat Dagoth Ur?”

“To defeat Dagoth Ur, go to Red Mountain to recover the artifact hammer Sunder from Gate Citadel Vemynal, then recover the artifact blade Keening from Gate Citadel Odrosal. Then proceed with Wraithguard, Sunder, and Keening to the citadel of Dagoth Ur. Within the citadel, find the Heart of Lorkhan. Use the three artifacts to sever Dagoth Ur's connection to the Heart, and he will be destroyed, and the Blight ended on Morrowind. To do this, strike the Heart with the artifact hammer Sunder once, then strike the Heart more than once with the artifact blade Keening. You must wear Wraithguard, because you cannot handle either Sunder or Keening unless you are wearing Wraithguard. That is the short, simple explanation. Here is the long, detailed explanation, written down for your convenience. Read it, study it, commit it to memory.”

As I absorbed this, I considered what else I might ask. I will not repeat all that passed between us, but Vivec continued to be surprisingly candid. In the course of the conversation, he noted that he had made available certain documents from his personal library. Inveterate bibliophile that I was, I eagerly asked to see the library. Along with the plan for defeating Dagoth Ur and an estimate of Dagoth Ur’s intentions, he mentioned some material regarding the Battle of Red Mountain and the events that led to the creation of the Tribunal.

“I have made available two conflicting accounts of the events of Red Mountain, my own true account, and another false account common among the Ashlanders and preserved in the Apographa. I don't care whether you believe my account or not. I leave it up to you to judge which is true.”

It has been my experience that whenever someone says they don’t care what you believe, that they actually care a great deal. However, I cannot say that I was ever completely able to read Vivec’s moods or meaning. Having met him, he was as much a mystery as ever. With much to consider and much to study, I rather distractedly took my leave and wandered out of the Temple.

wow.......amazing this was, I fully understand Trey´s reactions here when meeting Vivec....Now then this is really a wonderful description of the whole thing. So I really don´t know what to say other than....


:goodjob:

still great

Exactly Dantrag.

:goodjob:

Great work Treydog

great Trey

Upon leaving the Temple of Vivec, I experienced a genuine miracle- an Ordinator actually spoke to me in a civil fashion. He hailed me as the champion of Morrowind and expressed hope that the orthodox Temple and the Dissident Priests would soon be reconciled. In that, at least, Vivec had been truthful. As to the rest, only time and events would tell. I wanted to look over the material he had given me, but not here. I could not forget the “public notice” that Berel Sala had sent around, naming me an outlaw and otherwise dangerous character. All it would take was one overzealous guard or citizen with a crossbow and no one’s plans would matter any longer. Moving purposefully, but without running, I reached the Mage Guild and was teleported to Ald’ruhn. I still maintained a room in the Mage Guild there, and also felt most at home in the Redoran Council town. Then too, that was as close to the Urshilaku camp as the Mage’s Guild could send me. Once I was settled behind a closed and locked door, I laid out all of the items Vivec had given me. There was the bracer called “Wraithguard,” as well as a number of documents. True to my nature, I turned first to the written material. The summary regarding Dagoth Ur’s probable intentions and plans was frightening, largely because it appeared to be an honest assessment, without the usual Temple rationalizing and justification. It spoke directly about the Tribunal’s dependence on the Heart of Lorkhan for their power and of their loss of two of Kagrenac’s Tools, Sunder and Keening. The Temple believed that Dagoth Ur’s ultimate goal was to build and animate a mechanical god, imbued with the power of the Heart, and known as Akulakhan or Second Numidium. He and his ash vampire kin, or “heartwights,” would then become the head and high priests of a theocracy built around the “new god.”

There was a great deal more, but what it came down to was this: Dagoth Ur was powerful, immortal, and insane. The only way to render him vulnerable was to sever his link to the Heart. And, just for fun, he tended to never leave the Heart chamber and had had years to prepare for an attack. Having learned enough from that to realize that the future did not look very promising, I decided to turn to the past. The two accounts of the Battle of Red Mountain were quite similar, although Vivec’s “history” contained a great deal of self-justification and rationalizations about why the Tribunal used the power of the Heart. The other glaring difference was that Vivec’s story completely omitted any mention of Nerevar’s death, to the point of never even stating that he had died. He just disappeared from the tale at a certain crucial juncture. The Ashlander account explicitly stated that Almalexia, Sotha Sil, and Vivec poisoned Nerevar in order to carry out their intention of making themselves into gods. The purported method of the poisoning also offered an explanation of Azura’s involvement- the deed was done under the guise of preparing for a ritual to summon the goddess herself. I did not find it hard to make a judgment between the two stories, given the known facts. Fact- the Tribunes became “gods.” Fact- Vivec acknowledged that their power came from the Heart and Kagrenac’s Tools. Fact- Nerevar opposed the use of the Heart. Fact- Nerevar died under Red Mountain. Although my grasp of logic might have been questionable, I could only reach one conclusion that fit the facts. But, for now, that conclusion was beside the point. Whatever the Tribunal might have done in the past, Dagoth Ur was a danger of the present. And in truth, I felt no great kinship to Nerevar, even if I was supposed to be his reincarnation. Everything I had experienced caused me to rather doubt the whole “Incarnate” business, to believe that it was all a manipulation by Azura. If she wanted me to avenge Nerevar’s murder, she was going to be disappointed. I would fight Dagoth Ur, because the people of Morrowind and Tamriel needed me, and because I had been marked to do the job. But I would not be a hired sword, not even for a goddess.

Taking a few moments to rein in my anger, I next turned to Wraithguard. It was a lovely piece of the armorer’s art, crafted from Dwemer metal and inscribed over its entire surface. My innate ability to sense enchantment was hardly necessary to determine that the bracer was also imbued with powerful protective magic. Although the individual protections were not particularly strong, the sheer number of them, and the fact that they did not require “recharging” showed that this was an artifact of extreme value. I could well believe that it had been crafted by Kagrenac himself. More important was the fact that Wraithguard was essential if I was to survive handling the other two Tools. And Sunder and Keening were essential to the plan to defeat Dagoth Ur. Unfortunately, the Tribunal, in their own mad quest to sustain their power, had managed to lose those artifacts in the citadels of Red Mountain. One thing I wondered about a great deal. The plans for defeating Dagoth Ur described what would happen to him when I severed his link to the Heart. However, there was no discussion of what might happen to me. Nor was there any mention made of the effects on the Tribunal. Vivec had admitted that they were growing weaker because they had been unable to renew their own links to the Heart. If I succeeded against all reason, and Dagoth Ur no longer stood in their way, what might the Tribunal do? Would they not yield to the temptation to use the tools again? Would they not go so far as to murder the “savior of Tamriel,” making up a suitable story about his “heroic sacrifice?” After all, they had done as much before when they had made themselves immortal.

As I had known they would, all of the paths I might follow led me to Red Mountain, that smoking ruin of a peak in the middle of the blighted lands. Before I went there, though, I would speak to Nibani Maesa again. She had been my guide throughout this journey into madness; perhaps her wisdom would show me a way out the other side.

congrats trey on agian giving us all a great story to read!

awesome

Coooooooooooooool :goodjob:

It saddens me to read this, for it soon is coming to a close.. Regaurdless Trey awsome work

That's some powerful writing right there treydog. Excellent stuff :goodjob:

[quote=Channler]It saddens me to read this, for it soon is coming to a close.. Regaurdless Trey awsome work[/quote]

I have a feeling that Trey has somthing in store for us when his story is done. By the way the story could never end if he didn't want it to. A advanced writer like Trey would be able to easily come up with more stuff to add.

- Murder mysteries
- In depth thief quests
- Commana Tong
- Guard quests
- Sailor quests
- Politics
- Smuggler
- Imperial Navy
- Imperial Army(not legion)
- A long part of his story could consist of the Imperials finally deciding to make Morrowind a part of the empire.

Tons of stuff

I know treydog has been reluctant to read The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl at the moment because it's dealing with things he's not done. So, there is the possibility we'll see Trey involved in Tribunal or wandering the wastes of Solstheim...

Very Cool trey, i like your portrayal of Vivec. :goodjob:

[quote=OverrideB1]I know treydog has been reluctant to read The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl at the moment because it's dealing with things he's not done. So, there is the possibility we'll see Trey involved in Tribunal or wandering the wastes of Solstheim...[/quote]

Indeed....

The Urshilaku camp, for all its lonely desolation, was a welcome refuge for me. I trusted the Ashlanders as I did few others. The harshness of their existence had abraded away much of the pretense that more “civilized” people put on with their clothing. Even in House Redoran, I had discovered factions and people of questionable honor. But that was a problem for another day, perhaps a problem for the new Archmaster to sort out when she had time. My purpose was to meet Nibani and tell her of my meeting with Vivec. The wise-woman was pleased to see me, but explained that she had no more advice to offer. Regretfully, she said,

“Although I find it difficult to say, you must now follow the plan of the false god, Vivec. Recover Sunder and Keening so that you may put an end to Dagoth Ur’s madness. Seek information about the devil Dagoth Ur and his creatures at the fortress of Ghostgate. There are many there who have fought the Blight and have knowledge of the land inside the Ghostfence. They will know best how to combat the evil creatures of Red Mountain. I will pray that the ancestors guide your steps and strengthen your arm.”

So I departed from the Urshilaku, wondering if I would ever again see these people who had made me one of their own. The priests and buoyant armigers of the Ghostgate had little information to give me, and none that was new. Since the resurgence of Dagoth Ur’s strength, they had been unable to go far inside the Ghostfence. They told me of the citadels that ringed the crater of Red Mountain, each one now named for the ash vampire whose stronghold it was. The smith suggested that there might be hidden passages that would allow me to move safely and unseen into the heart of the mountain.

Those words reminded me that I had, in fact, discovered such a passage, but it was in a place that I feared to even think upon. When I had gone into Kogoruhn, where I had met and defeated Dagoth Uthol in combat, I had found a tunnel that ran under the Ghostfence and into Red Mountain. But now I knew that I had not truly killed the ash vampire, only caused him to become dormant for a time. Still, although the very thought of that stronghold turned tomb paralyzed me with fear, I forced myself to consider it. Dagoth Ur and his minions were prepared for an assault from the Ghostgate; they had withstood many such over the years. That path would leave me exposed to all the dangers of the blighted creatures, the choking ash storms, and worse. Crawling across that barren landscape, I would be like a bug on a plate. But Kogoruhn…. When I had fled from that dark place, I had promised myself that I would never return. So I weighed one fear against another- the known fear of the haunted halls of the former House Dagoth stronghold versus the unknown dangers that stalked Red Mountain. Neither choice was good- each path held terrors that could daunt the stoutest warrior. In the end, my fear of dying in a dark place, far under the ground, was greater, and I decided to enter the Ghostgate.

Almost the instant I stepped through the second portcullis, an ash slave began hurling magic at me. If this was any indication, it was going to be a long journey to the citadels of Odrosal and Vemynal. Determined to prevail, I cut down the foul creature and struggled up a steep gully. My feet slipped back two feet for every three forward and ash swirled and blew into my eyes and nose. The air was beyond foul, with smells of brimstone and worse. The sky was an eerie red color, a color that I had only seen before in the dreams that had troubled me during the voyage to Vvardenfell. But this time, there was no comforting voice, no Jiub to awaken me and assure me that all would be well. Broken trees stood out against the bloody sky, looking like nothing so much as fangs trying to rend the very heavens. Still I slogged on, defeating a second ash slave and innumerable cliff racers. Seeking a moment to rest, I ducked into a cavern whose runes indicated it was the Yassu Mine. Whatever valuable ore may have been mined there, the place appeared to be mainly a haven for nix hounds. I dispatched some half-dozen of the scaly green creatures before I decided that this was not much of a sanctuary. Although I appreciated the lack of blowing ash, I knew I couldn’t stay, so I plunged back out into the storm, working my slow way toward Odrosal.

When I was within a few hundred steps of the citadel, I was simultaneously attacked by four cliff racers, a lame corprus, and an ash slave. It is said that the work of a master swordsman resembles a dance. That may be true- I’ve never watched a master work. My own technique more closely resembled a man furiously swatting a flight of disturbed hornets. As I finished the last of the racers and stood, chest heaving from the exertion, I could hear the shrill calls of still more of the flying pests. This simply was not going to work. Even if I had the stamina (or the potions) to stand up to the constant attacks, my sword and armor would be turned to scrap before I ever reached the citadel and the ash vampire that dwelled within. No doubt Keening was heavily protected- Dagoth Ur would know what a treasure it was. Disgustedly, I cast Almsivi Intervention, which took me to the Temple in Ald’ruhn. After spending the rest of the day repairing my equipment, I made my way to the Mage Guild, hoping to get a good night’s sleep. That was a vain hope, as my mind was consumed with thoughts of where I must go the following day- Kogoruhn.

Wow, love the discription of the slopes of Red Mountain.

So....evil..

Nice...
I wonder if Trey will meet the ash vampire a second time?
Maybe treydog will change the ending of the storyline a little bit, and change something like Dagoth Ur's answer or whatnot...

Excellent work treydog.

oh, yeah....the door from koguruhn to red mountain...

I remembered

Great work as always, Treydog

[quote]Even in House Redoran, I had discovered factions and people of questionable honor. But that was a problem for another day, perhaps a problem for the new Archmaster to sort out when she had time[/quote]

That might be a good thing yes......especially when Trey has his hands full at the moment recovering the great artifacts....

As always this story gets right into me, the reasoning of Trey whem considering about his alternatives.....

Thanks treydog for giving this amazing story to us.. :goodjob:

Sleep did not seem likely to come that night, so I spent the time making restorative potions and checking my equipment. I also mixed one other special concoction, after which I was able to get some rest. In the morning, I had the guild guide send me to Caldera, where I asked Folms Mirel to set the master propylon index for Falasmaryon, the stronghold closest to Kogoruhn. If I had to go there, I was going to do so as quickly as possible. The forsaken House Dagoth stronghold was as I remembered, two-thirds buried in drifted ash, with an aura of decay and malevolence that was palpable. Before entering the Hall of Phisto, I checked my gear and made sure my sword was loose in the scabbard. Then I took out the special mixture I had created the night before and painted my face, as I had done before entering Ilunibi. Then I had made three stripes- for past, present, and future. On this day, I made only one, a vertical stripe in the center of my forehead. One stripe, because there was only one path- forward, to victory or death. With a deep breath, I shed my fear and left it outside the door as I plunged once more into the darkness of Kogoruhn.

Although a few Sixth House creatures still made Kogoruhn their home, it seemed that my previous harrowing had been effective. I reached the Nabith Waterway and the passage to Charma’s Breath with little difficulty. That foul lair was also largely empty- if Dagoth Uthol was coming back, he had not yet done so. The exit leading to the slopes of Red Mountain was as I remembered it, opening quite close to the citadel called Vemynal, where Sunder was supposed to be kept. The Dwemer ruin was clearly quite extensive, even with all of the drifted ash and the passage of years masking large sections. It was also infested with powerful Sixth House creatures- I encountered an Ascended Sleeper as well as an Ash Ghoul within the first couple of rooms. Relying on stealth and my enchanted ebony sword, I was able to add the amulets of Dagoth Nilor and Dagoth Garel to my collection. As I slipped deeper into Vemynal, I left lying Dwemer weapons and artifacts that would have thrilled me not so long ago. The only artifact I wanted was the hammer Sunder. Still, I did take possession of a pair of beautifully made alchemist’s tools, a calcinator and alembic that were obviously of grandmaster quality. It seemed to me that, if I should survive this, it would be nice to have the proper equipment to pursue a worthwhile hobby. It’s a good idea to have a fallback career in case the hero business doesn’t work out. Silent as a shadow, I slew everything in my path, still not finding the hammer. At last, I reached a door with runes that identified it as the entry to the “Hall of Torque.” The name seemed strange to me, and I wondered what a “torque” was. Perhaps some type of poultry the Dwemer had raised for food, I supposed. Whatever its original purpose, it was now the home of more Sixth House creatures, and I thinned the ranks of Dagoth Ur’s minions still further.

Confident in their strength and their proximity to the source of their power, they had no idea that a wolf had slipped in amongst the sheep. They were prepared for an attack by all the forces of the Temple and the Great Houses, marching up from the Ghostgate in rank and file. Their only warning that I was there was when a sword, blacker than the shadows from whence it came, harvested their lives. In this, I was without pity or remorse. While I suffered for every human life I had taken, these creatures had long since given up their humanity, and I felt no more regret than I would for killing venomous spiders. An odd encounter occurred in the perimeter corridor around the central room- I saw a large skeletal warrior, bearing a silver axe and a tower shield that gleamed with magicka. Sensing my presence in that arcane way the undead use to detect the living, the warrior raised its axe and screamed a challenge. The struggle that followed lasted far longer than I had wanted; I also cringed at the noise as weapons rang upon shields. If the resident ash vampire of Vemynal had been unaware of my presence before now, surely this was as good as sending up a flare. Fighting animated skeletons with a sword is always difficult, as they are largely unaffected by the thrusting attacks that succeed against fleshly opponents. Instead, I had to rely on looping overhand blows and wide swings from the side, which exposed me to return blows from the axe. Fortunately, my armor and speed proved decisive, and a well-aimed swing separated the skull of my enemy from his neck vertebrae. After making sure the previously animated assemblage of bones was truly finished, I examined the remains. The axe was inscribed as belonging to one “Beldoh the Undying,” apparently a name based on misplaced optimism.

Having removed all of the obstacles, I was able to find the steps leading down to a Dwemer door formed in two pieces. Hoping to see what was on the other side without exposing myself to an attack, I stepped behind the left side and opened the right. The room that was revealed was a large Sixth House shrine, with banners, candles, and cloying incense- none of which concealed the awful stench of decaying flesh. More important, I saw the peculiar figure of an ash vampire, who had apparently not spotted me yet. From the lore passed on by the armigers, I felt certain that this was the opponent I sought; it was unlikely that there would be more than one of the “heartwights” in this citadel. Remembering the difficulty I had experienced defeating Dagoth Uthol, I extracting from my quiver a handful of ebony arrows I had discovered elsewhere in the citadel. Although they were exceedingly rare, I could not think of a better way to expend them. Huddling in the shadow of the entry, I muttered the phrase that conjured a Daedric longbow to my hands, stepped into the open, and fired arrow after arrow at the ash vampire. Apparently, whatever Dagoth Vemyn’s powers may have been, keen sight was not one of them. As the arrows pierced him, he proceeded to scuttle back and forth inside the shrine, seemingly unable to locate the threat. That suited me perfectly, and I soon laid the creature low. Perhaps it was not honorable, or epic, or heroic- but it was effective, and that was all that mattered to me. If I could have contrived to roll a boulder down a mountain to crush him, I would have done so. After waiting to make sure the ash vampire was truly dormant, I slipped into the room and took from the corpse Sunder, as well as a magical pendant with an inscription that indicated it was known as the Amulet of Heart-Heal. That name reminded me of the Belt of Heartfire, which I had removed from Dagoth Uthol. Perhaps these artifacts provided the ash vampires’ link to the Heart of Lorkhan. If so, that might explain why Uthol had been unable to return. Regardless, I had recovered one of Kagrenac’s Tools and defeated another of Dagoth Ur’s closest kin. Although I was pleased with my success, I knew that it would only get harder. I still must find Keening and then enter the Heart Chamber itself. Surely Dagoth Ur would sense the approach of someone bearing all of the Tools, even if he had no idea of my true purpose.

Great Trey... Keep it coming! :goodjob:

Excellent....just.....excellent. :goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob:

Awesome as always

Great Trey...just awesome, my myy now we´re getting closer to the final countdown.....

hmm 5 jonajosa´s? well it´s not sufficient but still

:goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob:

I love this story. Trey, you make familiar things seem new and interesting.

(notice that most of us have beat the MQ, and still enjoy your story immensely[sp?] you're truly an amazing writer!)

Acquiring Sunder brought me closer to my goal, but also presented me with a problem I had not anticipated. My experience with the legendary sword, Fury, had acquainted me with the “personality” that powerful magical artifacts possess. That personality is based in part upon the creator of the object, and in part on the purpose for which it was created. But the press of events had caused me to forget that until I picked up the hammer that had been fashioned by Kagrenac. Sunder was inextricably linked to the Heart of Lorkhan, for it had been made to tap into the Heart’s power. As I grasped its haft, the great hammer invaded my mind and soul with an overwhelming hunger to be used. Even when I dropped it and muffled it in cloth, I could hear it whispering in my mind. The “voice” of Sunder was akin in cadence and timbre to that of the only Dwemer I had ever met, Yagrum Bagarn. It was deep, persuasive, commanding.

“Wield me and I will give you power beyond your dreams. Use me and I will make you a god. With me you can best the Daedra princes and the foolish Tribunal. You can have your revenge- all that you desire.”

On and on went the litany of persuasion and command. No wonder Dagoth Ur had fallen to its seduction- no wonder the Tribunal had been convinced to betray Nerevar and the people of Morrowind. Each of them had already tasted power and acclaim and privilege. Most of all, each of them had already sampled the sweet nectar of devotion that attaches to all great leaders. How easy it must have been to convince them that it was their destiny, their responsibility, their duty, to become gods. And me? I, too, was tempted by that vision. What a wonderful irony- a honoured user stable-hand become a god! The Emperor, the Tribunal, even Azura- all would fear me. And what then…? Whether it was the spirit of Nerevar, the influence of Azura, or just my own stubborn Breton nature I do not know. But I knew who I was and I wanted no part of being a god. I wanted only to be done with this; to be left alone; to be Trey, a person of no particular importance. So I wrapped Sunder more securely in a spare cloak and growled my response to its whispering,

“Shut up, lest I cast you into the fires from which you were forged.”


The threat had no effect on Sunder’s promises, but it made me feel better as I contemplated another foray into the ash and heat that covered Red Mountain. I saw now that my previous attempt to reach Odrosal had been thwarted because I had used the path that Dagoth Ur expected. He had made sure that the route from the Ghostgate was heavily patrolled. But now, I would be coming from the opposite direction, using a path that was perhaps forgotten. It was time that I began to think like a thief instead of a warrior- stealth would serve me far better than strength. If my enemies could not see me, they could not stop me from reaching Odrosal. Also, Levitation would allow me to bypass the normal trails, which were no doubt closely watched. The ash storms that blanketed Red Mountain would help to conceal me, as well. Although the distance from Vemynal to Odrosal was not great, the terrain was terribly rugged. Even with Levitation to avoid the ridges and Shadow to hide from the beasts, it was a long, nerve-wracking journey. During the trip, I saw everything from cliff-racers to an Ascended Sleeper; Dagoth Ur was clearly intent on protecting the approaches to his stronghold. Fortunately, few of those guardians saw me, and I was able to reach the door to the Odrosal citadel in relatively good condition. When my feet touched the ground again, I could feel the heat even through my boots. It was as if Red Mountain itself sought to resist me. Shaking off that momentary fancy, I entered the citadel where Keening was supposed to be hidden, prepared to fight all manner of Sixth House creatures.

Unlike Vemynal, however, Odrosal seemed strangely empty. Beyond the eerie mechanical clanking of unknown Dwemer machines mindlessly spinning out their unfathomable purpose, it was also remarkably quiet. As I eased deeper into the ruin, I began to find the corpses of Sixth House dreamers scattered about. Although I was not sorry to see these enemies dead, I wondered how it might affect my mission. Was there some dissension in the Sixth House? Had some powerful warrior or sorcerer arrived before me, seeking Keening for some other purpose? The Golden Saint which attacked from the shadows of one central chamber was uncommunicative, like all of her kind. However, the presence of such a powerful summoning added to my worry. In fact, I was so preoccupied with who else might be stalking those corridors and for what purpose that I blundered through a door without paying adequate attention. It was thus that Dagoth Odros, ash vampire, had the chance to speak to me. The fact that he did so, rather than attacking immediately, so caught me by surprise that I listened to what he had to say:

“Well, Trey. Have you come to serve? Or to challenge my station? Or to try to win Keening?”

Although the sight of him filled me with dread and loathing, it seemed rude even to me to respond to his greeting with an attack, so I asked him to explain what he meant by his questions. As to the opportunity to serve the Sixth House, he told me,

“Many mortals serve their gods. Few are so fortunate to be invited to share their divine power with them. Lord Dagoth makes you a generous offer, Trey. Join him, and you can share the divine, eternal power of Lorkhan's heart. So far, all your struggles, your battling, your destructiveness... all these things might be understood as improving your bargaining position. Come now, we hold you no bitterness. You cannot truly harm us. We can afford to forgive.”

That sounded too much like the wolf inviting the hare to come over for dinner- no doubt the wolf would even offer to provide the wine. Also, I had seen what became of those who “served” House Dagoth- the corprus beasts, the Ascended Sleepers, misshapen monsters every one. More to the point, I had no desire to serve any man or god, so I bluntly declined. Dagoth Odros did not seem put off by my refusal- he simply said,

“You think to climb higher in Brother Dagoth's eyes by defeating me? Well, then, you might rise at that. None of us Heartwights can die. The power of the Heart will bring us all back in time. But, yes, you might win Lord Dagoth's favor by defeating his lieutenants. No hard feelings, Trey. I lose, I lose my rank. You lose, you lose all. You're playing for high stakes, Trey. Are you sure you want to play? Surely, there is no dishonor for a mortal to serve a god?”

Again, that seductive offer of power through service, this time with a not-so-subtle threat. It seemed to me that Dagoth Odros would only threaten if he feared, despite his assertion that he and his kind could not be killed. It certainly suited his purpose to claim immortality- it was an easy way to avoid a fight. Too, he had no inkling that my true purpose was to sever his link to the Heart, which link was the source of his eternal life. And that knowledge was an advantage I did not intend to give away.

So I asked, “Is there not some other way? Might I not have the use of Keening for a short time?”

I had no real hope that Dagoth Odros would agree, but I wanted to gauge his reaction. With a dusty laugh, the ash vampire replied,

“It is well hidden. Trey. Even if I should fall, you'll never find it. But if you choose to serve, perhaps Lord Dagoth might even consent to grant you the use of it. Surely, by coming so far, you have drawn his discerning eye, and earned his favor. Be reasonable, Trey. Why risk blood and life for that which might be won by words and service?”

Even though I had never intended to heed them, just listening to Dagoth Odros’ honeyed words had been a mistake, as I was about to discover.

awesome, as always. :goodjob:

Good post! I liked the idea of Sunder talking to you.

Wow... damn this was good Trey, I really enjoy your story.. keep posting! :goodjob:

I have finally read your story - so far.

It is really amazing how much work and talent you have put into the story. I especially like the humour, the constant observation of Trey's thoughts and beliefs and thereby the chance to follow his reasoning regarding his decisions. The aforementioned all portray your character in a vivid way that make the reader feel "included".

I look very much forward to reading the next chapters.

I just discovered I haven´t commented on this part of your story...now then you know how much I like it so that´s no news....

I particularly enjoy Trey´s ability of thinking carefully about every step, considering the options and what consequences will appear when choosing between them...

Ahh let´s hope he´ll be ok now....facing the great evil


May i offer you some jonajosas? :goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob:

I had anticipated treachery from Dagoth Odros; I had simply not been vigilant enough. The first indication I received was when the Flame Atronach struck me from behind. As soon as I turned to deal with that threat, the ash vampire raked his claws down my back. I was fortunately able to dispatch the atronach quickly, which allowed me to get my shield into play against Odros. For a time, defending was the most I could do, as the ash vampire’s tough hide turned even my ebony sword. It quickly became apparent to me that trying to fight him this way would lead to my defeat. His claws shredded my armor and my flesh, while I seemed able to do only small damage in return. He was stronger, but I was faster, and I used that speed to my advantage. Dodging around and between the pillars in the room gave me time to imbibe a healing potion and to summon a Daedric longbow. My plan was to keep out of reach, all the while piercing him with arrows. I hoped that the magicka imparted by the bow as well as my ability to target more carefully would prove effective. That tactic confused Odros; again it seemed that the creatures of the Sixth House were more prepared for direct attacks, such as those launched by the Temple or the Great Houses. I, on the other hand, had only one goal in mind- winning. Whether my victory would be considered tainted in the eyes of some puffed-up knight meant nothing to me- let some other fool “die nobly;” I intended to live. So it was that I found myself racing through Odrosal, stopping long enough to loose a couple of arrows, only to run again. Odros’ silent, mindless pursuit was almost more frightening than the roaring charge of an Ogrim; it was alien, another sign of a mind that was no longer human. Whatever consciousness controlled the ash vampire, it was not that of the Chimer he had once been. When at last he fell, I was able to take from the corpse his Sixth House amulet, as well as the Amulet of Heart Fire. However, what he did not have was the sword, Keening.

A search of the now empty citadel at last revealed a trapdoor in the ceiling of one chamber; I clambered up the ladder and turned the latch. I have always hated those ceiling doors; I fear that someone with a hammer is waiting for me to poke my head through like a curious and not-too-bright ground squirrel. Fortunately, no one was playing “whack-a-Breton” in Odrosal that day, and I was able to hoist myself into the tower without incident. Whatever its original purpose, the room was now an elaborate Sixth House shrine, complete with ash statues and a sacrificial pit. And in the center of that pit stood a short-sword, point down, glowing with unmistakable magicka. Even before I touched it, I heard it set up a counter-point to Sunder’s incessant murmuring. Every instinct I possessed warned me that this must be a trap; that it could not be so easy as just grasping the sword. But my will was no match for the pull of the sword as I was dragged closer. As I grasped the hilt, I realized that no other trap was needed- Keening itself was the trap. And I had fallen into it and was irrevocably lost.

If the hammer’s assault on my brain had been intense, the combined power of Sunder and Keening was unbearable. Their voices set up a resonance that drove every other thought from my head, leaving only the compulsion to wield them, to go to the Heart chamber and become a creature of the Heart of Lorkhan. I fell to my knees, unable to resist the potential that was in my possession. When it seemed as if I had no choice but to succumb, a different voice broke through the chorus of Kagrenac’s profane Tools. This voice also had power, but of a different sort. Without words, it was as pure as the morning sun on a spring day, as clean as the moon reflected from the surface of the sea. It did not promise, did not command, did not threaten. Instead, it simply…was. And it created a still, calm space where I too, could exist in peace. This was a display of true power, of strength without end, a promise that tomorrow would always come, if only I believed. With a vigor I had not felt in many months, I regained my feet. Sunder and Keening still murmured in the back of my mind, but it was nothing, a mere whisper, transient and with no power to move or change me. I wrapped the sword with the hammer and prepared myself for what was to come.

Mind and will once again my own, I paused in the silence of Odrosal to review the plans Vivec had developed for fighting Dagoth Ur and gaining access to the Heart. One idea was to weaken the defenses of the Sixth House by attacking the citadels and the seven ash vampire kin of Dagoth Ur. Even though they apparently could not be killed, they could be dispelled for a time and would be unable to assist in the defense of the Heart. Of the seven, I had already removed three- Uthol, Vemyn, and Odros. If I followed the plan, I should go to the citadel called Tureynulal next. But I questioned the value of that slow nibbling around the edges. The three ash vampires I had bested had either possessed the Tools or else stood directly in my path- confronting them had been necessary. Now that I controlled all of Kagrenac’s Tools, it was time to strike. The longer I delayed, the more time Dagoth Ur would have to prepare. If this had been a battle of great armies, a campaign of attrition to weaken the Sixth House might have made sense, but I was a lone man. Every time I fought, I risked serious injury or death, not to mention the loss of the Tools. While my death might be only a temporary setback for Azura or Vivec, it would be rather more permanent for me. No, my stealthy spirit told me that this called for a lightning stroke out of the darkness, not a slow wearing away. Dagoth Ur was probably off balance right now, still trying to decide what the disappearances of Vemyn and Odros meant. As a former general, he would expect an opponent to consolidate his gains and take some time to plan. Better to attack before the insidious blandishments of Sunder and Keening weakened my resolve. If I appeared suddenly, bearing Kagrenac’s Tools, Dagoth Ur would probably believe that I had come to challenge him. That was how his mind would work- I had defeated his lieutenants; now I was ready to attempt to wrest control of the Heart from him. If he continued to believe that, if I could keep him from divining my true purpose- then I might succeed.

cool update, and i'm gonna post an update of my own now too

cool addition Trey!

I don't remember reading and of it before but I have now. That is some awesome writing. "Wishes he could write like that". Keep it up and will be now looking for updates.

Oh an update! now we´re closing in rapidly....

[quote=treydog] Fortunately, no one was playing “whack-a-Breton” in Odrosal that day,[/quote]

now this made me laugh out loud...sheer joy!

[quote=minque]Oh an update! now we´re closing in rapidly....

[quote=treydog] Fortunately, no one was playing “whack-a-Breton” in Odrosal that day,[/quote]

now this made me laugh out loud...sheer joy![/quote]

Same here, I can see it now... "Step right up! Dont be shy! Come and whack...A...BRETON!" :rofl: Great as always Treydog. :goodjob:

My map indicated that the main Dwemer facility, the place where Dagoth Ur was to be found, was to the northwest of Odrosal, in the very crater of Red Mountain. A potion of levitation allowed me to negotiate the vertical slope, even though I was less than happy to have to go closer to the blood-red sky. As I crested the ridge, I beheld the most extensive Dwemer ruin I had ever seen. Somewhere within that collection of towers and halls was Dagoth Ur. And the Heart of Lorkhan. This was the place where it had begun, where Kagrenac had forged the tools that caused the disappearance of the Dwemer, where Dagoth Ur and the Tribunes had used those same tools to make themselves immortal. It was here that Nerevar had been murdered, but I felt no compulsion for revenge. Whatever the prophecies and portents said, I was not the reincarnation of that long-dead Chimer general. I was simply a man, a man who had been manipulated and used beyond all endurance, until I found myself with no other choice but to go on. The heat that radiated from the crater was equal to the incandescent rage that fueled me. Perhaps this was my destiny, but I saw too many indications of Azura’s meddling to believe in such a fairy tale. But that didn’t matter. None of the “whys” or “hows” mattered anymore. All that mattered was that I was here, now, bearing Kagrenac’s Tools and my sword. My promise had been given to Sul-Matuul, to Nibani, to Athyn, to all the people of Morrowind. So I embraced the heat of the molten rock that reflected the fury that burned at my core, and I floated over the fiery pit to the doorway that would take me on my final journey to victory or death.

But once I reached the door itself, I was momentarily puzzled- the two great, curved sheets of metal that formed the entry were closed, and there seemed to be no lever or other mechanism to cause them to part. Then I remembered the first Dwemer ruin I had ever entered, seemingly a lifetime ago- Arknghthand, near Balmora. There, access had been gained by turning a crank on a vertical post near the entry; perhaps the same method was used here. A brief search allowed me to locate the crank and the leaves of the door opened with a hiss of steam and a rumble of metal on metal. As I made my way into the first hallway, a voice sounded inside my head. It was impossibly deep and powerful, filled with promise and command. It was the voice of Dagoth Ur.

“Come, Nerevar. Friend or traitor, come. Come and look upon the Heart. And Akulakhan. And bring Wraithguard. I have need of it.”

So the would-be god who had spent the last several years trying to kill me was suddenly conciliatory, now that I had showed up on his doorstep. I trusted that friendliness no more than I would the smile of an alit, but his need for Wraithguard was certainly sincere. He had controlled the other Tools since the Tribunes had been careless enough to lose them, but Wraithguard was necessary for him to complete his mad scheme to animate the metal god he called Akulakhan. So Dagoth Ur pretended to “welcome” me and bade me hasten to his side like a good little servant? I would come to him, bearing Wraithguard, but I had a surprise for him, as well, something sharp and pointed.

Apparently the ash zombie lurking in the stairwell hadn’t gotten the message that I was an honored guest, for it attacked me as I rounded the corner. The mindless creature’s club was no match for my ebony sword, but the attack was a reminder that I needed to be stealthy. Therefore, I opened the door at the foot of the stairs with great caution, which had no effect on the voice that again echoed in my head.

“Come to the Heart Chamber. I wait for you there, where we last met, countless ages ago.”

Disregarding the compulsion of Dagoth Ur’s voice, I made a careful search of the room, finding only the body of a dead adventurer. His light staff had guided him to nothing more than a lonely death in a dark and horrible place. He must have been incredibly brave, or foolish, or desperate to have come here- perhaps all three. The citadel Dagoth Ur was no place for the sane or the living. My sanity or lack of it was open to question- my life I would do my best to keep. Several ascended sleepers, including one whose amulet named him Dagoth Vaner, tried their best to assist me into the next world, but I stubbornly resisted their attempts and pressed on. Almost as though he was following my progress, Dagoth Ur spoke again,

“Come to me through fire and war. I welcome you.”

An ash ghoul named Dagoth Ienas welcomed me in a more physical fashion; I fear my response to his attempt to embrace me was rather rude. Still, when I left him, he made no complaint, so perhaps he was satisfied. And as I stalked through those haunted corridors, that smooth, taunting voice continued its promises:

“Welcome, Moon-and-Star. I have prepared a place for you.”

“Come. Bring Wraithguard to the Heart Chamber. Together let us free the cursed false gods.”

He certainly knew how to tempt me, knew that I held no love for the Tribunal. But it did not necessarily follow that I must therefore love and trust him, either. I had seen his handiwork, the ash ghouls and ascended sleepers that had once been human. How I longed to find the owner of that voice and silence it forever. So I pressed onward, fighting the ascended sleepers that swarmed thick as flies around a corpse, making my way deeper into the dark recesses of the citadel.

Because I did not know where to find the Heart Chamber, I had to search every room and hall, open every door. Even when I found another of those ladder and trapdoor arrangements, with markings that named it the Inner Tower, I had to find out what lay on the other side. This time my fear of the trapdoors was justified; Dagoth Irvyn was waiting for me. Fortunately, like most of the ascended sleepers, he preferred to begin with a magical attack instead of a physical one. Although the magical fire that washed over me hurt, it was not fatal. Better still, the pause as he prepared his next blast of magicka gave me an opportunity to leap and roll into the room. As soon as I had stopped, I jumped up and drew my sword. Dagoth Iryvn conjured a cloud of green mist around me, a poisonous vapor that set my nerves on fire. Pausing only long enough to swallow an antidote, I closed with the monster. As he began another spell, I punched him off balance with my shield, and followed with several sword-thrusts to the body. Though he was mortally wounded, he managed to buffet me with his flipper-like hands and also to lash me with his tentacles. Although I normally preferred to strike at a distance, I reveled in this close-quarters fight. Here I had a tangible target for my anger and resentment. Even more, I felt no remorse at exterminating one of Dagoth Ur’s minions, one who had no doubt willingly given himself over to corprus. In the end, the satisfaction of collecting another Sixth House amulet was the most I got from the fight- the chamber was otherwise empty, save for the corpse of a buoyant armiger. On the back of his shield was etched the name, Voruse Bethrimo, and beside the body was an elaborately engraved staff, which glowed with magicka. I deciphered the script and determined that this was the fabled Crozier of St. Llothis, a Temple artifact of great antiquity. Perhaps Voruse had trusted that the power of the staff and his own courage would lead him to victory over Dagoth Ur. Unfortunately, courage was not enough, and he had paid the price for the Tribunal’s deceit. How many others had Vivec sent to their deaths with the false belief that they could stop the Sixth House? Nevertheless, I vowed that, if I lived, I would report where Voruse had fallen, and that he had died with honor. It was the least I could do for a brave man who had carried on the fight against impossible odds.

Back in the Inner Facility, I found steps leading downward, and Dagoth Ur spoke yet again:

“Welcome, Nerevar. Together we shall speak for the Law and the Land, and drive the mongrel dogs of the Empire from Morrowind.”

That attempt at persuasion fell even flatter than the others. After all, what was I but a “mongrel dog of the Empire,” with my Breton mother and Cyrodiilic father? Dagoth Ur was going to be quite surprised when finally we met face-to-face. Entering the Lower Facility, I was confronted by an ash ghoul, who struck with fire and claws. As I struggled with him, I thought I glimpsed a figure in a distant corridor, someone who did not attempt to join the fight, but simply watched. But when Dagoth Muthes fell before my blade, whoever or whatever I had seen was gone, so I moved forward. I could sense that I was getting closer; it almost seemed that I could feel the pulsing of the Heart beneath my feet. In my eagerness to end this madness, I was not as cautious as I should have been, and walked right into an ambush by Dagoth Gilvoth, one of the remaining ash vampires. He had been the lurking presence I had glimpsed earlier; patient as a spider he had waited in the shadows for me to blunder into his reach. Fortunately, he preferred to hurl magical attacks at me rather than to close to striking distance. As blast after blast of eldritch lightning and fire burst around me, I conjured a longbow and proceeded to trade him arrows for spells. So powerful was the summoned bow that the impacts of the arrows staggered him, causing many of his spells to dissipate harmlessly. At last, an arrow guided more by fortune than by design transfixed his neck, and he fell to the floor and did not rise again. Besides a Sixth House amulet, he carried something called the “Blood Ring,” which I surmised was his link to the Heart. As I picked up the ring, Dagoth Ur’s mocking voice shivered the air,

“Is this how you honor the Sixth House and the tribe unmourned? Come to me openly, and not by stealth.”

As to that, I could not think of a better way to “honor” the traitorous, corrupt, and utterly foul Sixth House than to collect their amulets and their heads. And I didn’t think that the trail of dead creatures I had left in my wake could be construed as “stealthy.” In an obscure way, that made me feel better, for it meant that Dagoth Ur was not really watching me. No doubt he sensed that I was inside the citadel and coming closer, but his sense was imprecise. He was simply throwing out these taunts to try to goad me into a mistake. As I promised myself that I would be careful, I came upon yet another dead adventurer. Judging by his netch leather armor and tools, he must have been a thief. He was also carrying one the cursed ash statues that had been used against House Redoran. I wondered if he had taken it from within the citadel or if its vile influence had drawn him here with promises of treasure beyond imagining. He must have been a master thief to have penetrated so far into the citadel, but it had been all for nothing- just a lonely end in a terrible place. Perhaps that was all an “adventure” really was- the desire for wealth or acclaim, interspersed with moments of terror and punctuated by death.

One wall of the final chamber had been breached by some means I could not imagine and a wooden door was hung crookedly in the opening. My instincts screamed a warning that I was close and Kagrenac’s Tools redoubled their whispering. With a convulsive effort, I pushed open the door. And there in a cavern deep under Red Mountain, a place of smoke and flame, I finally beheld my enemy. He was the gold-masked figure from the dreams that had troubled me when I first set foot on this path. Despite the mask, I could see how his long communion with the Heart had changed him. Him skin was the ashen color of the Dunmer, yet it seemed somehow dull. His hands had become deformed, turned into claws like those of his ash vampire kin. Overall, there was something almost reptilian about the tall figure before me- as if a lizard had grown to monstrous size and learned to walk on its hind legs. When he saw me, the great demon threw back his masked head and laughed, saying:

“Welcome, Moon-and-Star, to this place where destiny is made.”