Now I have read it, and I'm disappointed...Trey's journey is almost over. (unless you go into the expansions *hint hint* )
Full Version: The Story of Trey- Chapter 13
cool addition...I still have yet to read it, just wanted to be the first to post
Now I have read it, and I'm disappointed...Trey's journey is almost over. (unless you go into the expansions *hint hint* )
Now I have read it, and I'm disappointed...Trey's journey is almost over. (unless you go into the expansions *hint hint* )
Awesome, can't wait for the next update
Ooho.. Great Trey, guess the very best is still to come, and have to agree with Dantrag - Expansions 
:goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob:
:goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob:
Thank you much trey dog... I never finished the MQ so I finally figured out what (sorta) happend :goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob:
Great new addition. But will the story continue after the MQ is done? Will Trey stay and finish up the rest of the Faction quests? We'll find out soon enough... hopefully.
:goodjob:
:goodjob:
At last I stood before Dagoth Ur, my sword in hand. This was the confrontation that had been fated long before I had ever heard of Vvardenfell, before I had even been born. And in that moment, my certainty deserted me. I knew that he was my enemy; that he was an insane, corrupting influence for all of Morrowind; but I was unsure what to do now that I faced him. Perhaps an Armiger or Ordinator would have attacked on sight, secure in their faith and belief in the Tribunal. But I couldn’t do that. Whether it was my peculiar sense of honor or my poor, stunted conscience, I don’t know- but something prevented me from simply striking without warning. Or perhaps it was the fact that Dagoth Ur had been there at the beginning of the events that led to this moment; that our fates were intertwined. I felt that I should speak to him, if for no other reason than to hear what he had to say about all this. Perilous though the conversation might be, it seemed only right. After all, I had heard Vivec’s story and those told by the Dissident Priests and the Ashlanders. Now I could hear from someone else who had been there. So I cleared my throat and asked,
“What happens now?”
Dagoth Ur turned his impassive mask to regard me and said,
“It began here. It will end here. Have you any parting words? Or would you prefer to skip the speeches, and get to our business? You are the challenger here, after all. So to you goes the courtesy of the first blow.”
I had always preferred trying to talk my way out of trouble- this time was no exception. So I responded,
“Why must they be ‘parting words’? After all, I just got here.”
It was impossible to tell what expression the face behind the mask wore, but his words and tone were regretful.
“Now that you have come to me here, there can be but one result. Many times I have considered offering to share this place with you. I considered offering to accept your oath of service. You might try to buy my trust by giving me Wraithguard, Keening, and Sunder. I thought we might once again be friends... comrades... brothers in arms.”
Then he shook his head and added,
“But I have won this place and power by right of conquest. By right of daring and enterprise. I will not risk it to cunning and deceit. I offer you no deals. If you are my enemy, I cannot trust you. And even if you are not my enemy, I cannot let you live. It will all be decided here. I believe I will prevail. But I cannot be sure, and I am vain enough that, should I fall, I would wish to be remembered in my own words. So, if you have final questions you would ask, ask them now. I have final questions I would ask you, if you would answer.”
That seemed fair; besides, if we were talking, we wouldn’t be trying to kill each other. Therefore I said,
“I will answer your questions, if I can.”
Dagoth Ur squared his shoulders and asked,
“My first question is: Are you really Nerevar reborn?”
That was an interesting question, one that I had pondered quite often. Nothing I had experienced had convinced me that I was, in truth, Nerevar. Considering how many other voices had taken up residence in my head from time to time, the Chimer general had been a remarkably quiet guest, if he was there at all. Because it seemed to me that there had been deceit enough from the beginning of this affair, I would not add more lies to those already told, so I spoke as truthfully as I could,
“I am my own man, beholden to neither gods nor Emperor. I am an adventurer who would decide his own fate.”
That answer seemed to please him, although his response was not terribly comforting,
“You are bold. I honor your independence. You are one to teach the gods their limits. I hope the bards will praise the glory of your death in song.”
He then said,
“My second question is: if you win, what do you plan to do with the power from the Heart? Will you make yourself a god, and establish a thearchy? Or will you complete Akulakhan, and dispute control of Tamriel with the Septims? Or will you share the Heart with your followers, as I have, and breed a new race of divine immortals?”
Here was dangerous ground. I could tell him what he probably expected to hear- that I would make myself into a god, or that I would challenge the Empire. But I still refused to lie, saying instead,
“I have my own, secret plan for the Heart.” That was true, yet did not reveal that my plan was to destroy the malign source of his power. Even better, that answer satisfied him, for he said,
“Well. Perhaps there may be surprises in store for me yet. Or perhaps you obscure your plans on principle. Or perhaps you are an instinctive bluffer. No matter. My final question is: if I had offered to let you join me, would you have surrendered Wraithguard, Sunder, and Keening to me to seal your oath?”
This time, the truth was easy- “No, I would never join you.” Surprisingly, he remained gracious,
“Thank you for your forthright response. And now, if you have any questions, ask them. Otherwise, you are the challenger. I await your first blow.”
Wishing to delay the inevitable and also to find out more, I questioned him regarding his intentions for the Heart, the Dunmer, and Akulakhan. His answers proved not only his madness, but also the necessity of stopping him. He believed that corprus was the “touch of divinity,” and planned to spread it across all of Tamriel. With the transformed Dunmer and the animated giant called Akulakhan, he would carry conquest and disease throughout the world. Hoping to awaken some spark of the person he had once been, I asked him how he could justify the crimes he had committed in his pursuit of power. His answer boiled down to “the ends justify the means”- he was right; therefore whatever happened was not only necessary but just. In that moment I silently thanked whatever power or chance it was that had given me the ability to doubt myself. In Dagoth Ur, I faced the opposite, and his absolute certainty was the most frightening thing about him.
Unable to delay any longer, I admitted that I had no more questions, and he again offered me the opportunity to strike first. Yet even as I readied my sword, he proved himself to be a liar and a cheat. He sent forth a spell that instantly damaged my health as well as most of my abilities. As the fiery magical energy blossomed around me, my muscles weakened and my reflexes slowed. Furious at this latest example of his treachery, I thrust straight for his chest, for the place where he would have kept his heart if he had one. Making no attempt to dodge or block, Dagoth Ur countered with a backhanded blow that sent me to my knees. I gathered my wits and slashed furiously at his throat and unprotected chest, feeling the blade bite deep with every blow. A part of me thought, “This is too easy- surely he should be defending himself.” Then, between one sword-thrust and the next, he simply…vanished. I spun through a circle, expecting that he would appear behind me, but the chamber was empty. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed movement and realized that the Dwemer doors to one side of the cavern were now open. As I made my cautious way toward them, a glittering object on the threshold caught my eye. It was a ring, with an inscription that named it the Heart Ring. Highly magical, it would provide the wearer resistance to a number of forms of magical damage, or even dispel malicious magical effects. While it was a fabulous artifact, I had it in mind to use a somewhat more mundane item that I had been saving. Before opening the door, I unwrapped Sunder and Keening, knowing that I would need them ready to hand. So long as Lorkhan’s Heart survived, Dagoth Ur could not be defeated. Reminding myself that I must concentrate on the Heart, I pushed through the door into the chamber where Dagoth Ur waited.
When he saw me, his voice had become cold and sneering as he dropped all pretense of reason.
“What a fool you are! I am a god! How can you kill a god? What a grand and intoxicating innocence. How could you be so naďve? There is no escape. No Recall or Intervention spell will work in this place. Come. Lay down your weapons. It is not too late for my mercy.”
But now I knew the quality of his mercy, knew that it was a sham and a lie. Behind him loomed Akulakhan, the great Dwemer construct that he wished to turn into a god, a vessel to spread disease throughout Tamriel. It was huge beyond imagining, standing a hundred feet tall or more. And I could feel the presence of the Heart, feel the pulsing of its corrupting power. Sunder and Keening began to vibrate in resonance to the call of the Heart. True to his nature, even as he called on me to surrender, Dagoth Ur hurled his damaging spells at me. Through the pain, through the anger, through the fear, I held firm to my purpose- destroy the Heart. I knew I could not fight Dagoth Ur and attack the Heart at the same time, so I would need some help. With that in mind, I had readied the scroll that Dratha had given me so long ago, the scroll that would allow me to summon a Golden Saint to fight for me. While I had no hope that she would prevail, the Daedric creature would at least occupy my enemy while I attended to the Heart. I intoned the words and was gratified to see the creature materialize in front of me. Drawn by the Heart as if it were a lodestone, I rushed to the lip of the fiery pit that contained Akulakhan. Some forty feet below, I could see the Heart, held by a metal framework inside the construct itself. A wooden footbridge stretching from the lower ledge gave access to the Heart. I eyed the drop and said a prayer to any powers that might be listening, then launched myself from the ledge, hoping to land on the bridge.
Though I seemed to be rushing toward the lava at an incredible speed, I still had time to call myself several kinds of a fool on the way down. Then the bridge knocked the wind from my lungs and the thoughts from my head. One thing I hadn’t counted on- the wooden slats of the bridge were suspended by ropes- ropes that had some elasticity to them. The result of my dive was that, when I hit the bridge, I bounced. A desperate grab secured a hold on the edge of a board and I heaved myself back onto the deck. In the time it took to regain my breath, I paused to be grateful that I had never taken to wearing heavy armor- a set of Imperial plate probably would have punched me right through the wood. Nothing important seemed to be broken; better still, the grunts and blows from above meant that my summoning was still occupying Dagoth Ur. Gasping for breath, I limped across to the Heart of Lorkhan. Once there, I did not wait to examine the object that had been the cause of so much suffering. Instead, I grasped Sunder in both hands and smashed it down onto the glittering red stone. When the hammer struck home, Dagoth Ur grunted in pain. But I ignored him as I dropped Sunder and grasped Keening. With the first blow of the sword, Dagoth Ur shouted,
“What are you doing?”
Upon the second, he leaped down to confront me, screaming, “You fool! No!”
Still I ignored him and kept swinging. At the fifth blow, the Heart of Lorkhan crumbled to dust and vanished.
Dagoth Ur flailed at me in a horrified frenzy. Though his blows lacked coordination, they were still powerful. Throwing Keening to the ground, I drew my own ebony blade and began to drive the mad creature back. His spells seemed to have deserted him, and I blocked his clawing swings with my shield. Gone was his laughter, his taunting, his air of invincibility. At every cut of my sword, he seemed to grow smaller, weaker, more pathetic. But I had no mercy, not for him. At last, he took one backward step too many and teetered on the edge of the pit, arms wind-milling for balance. I didn’t push him, but I didn’t reach out to help him either. Silent at last, he fell into the Oblivion of his own creation.
As I turned to gather up Sunder and Keening, a tremor shook the cavern, and several rocks rained down. Apparently the destruction of the Heart had caused greater repercussions than I had realized. Bruised and battered, I raced across the swaying bridge, dodging falling stones. When I reached the other side, I turned to watch as Akulakhan began to tremble and crack. Slowly, majestically, pieces of the giant construct began to shatter and fall into the molten rock below. When the last piece had settled, I took a long look at Kagrenac’s Tools, the instruments that had tempted mortals to become gods. Although I believed the Heart was destroyed, I could not be sure. But I could put the Tools out of reach. One by one, I dropped Sunder, Keening, and Wraithguard into the pit. The churning lava reached up to embrace each one, then with a flare of brimstone and magicka, they were gone. I stared into the heart of the fire for a very long time, wondering if my soul would ever again feel clean. It is no small thing to kill a god, even a mad one. It is a burden that no mortal man should have to bear. But then, I wasn’t a mortal man any longer. I would have forever to live with the memories of my deeds. Step by step, I climbed back up out of the cavern, at last entering the room where I had first confronted Dagoth Ur. When I reached the passage leading back into the citadel, a figure materialized in front of me. In the shape of a woman, wearing a gown as blue as the sky, Azura held out her arms in welcome. She told me that I was free of the burden of prophecy, that the blight was ended, but that the people of Morrowind still faced other dangers, other enemies. As she began to fade, she intoned,
“Accept this gift from the hands of the gods.”
Where she had stood, a ring appeared, floating several feet above the ground. Taking the ring, I threaded it onto the same chain as the Emperor’s “little gift.” Together, they would serve as a constant reminder that gifts from the powerful always come with a price- usually one that you cannot afford to pay.
“What happens now?”
Dagoth Ur turned his impassive mask to regard me and said,
“It began here. It will end here. Have you any parting words? Or would you prefer to skip the speeches, and get to our business? You are the challenger here, after all. So to you goes the courtesy of the first blow.”
I had always preferred trying to talk my way out of trouble- this time was no exception. So I responded,
“Why must they be ‘parting words’? After all, I just got here.”
It was impossible to tell what expression the face behind the mask wore, but his words and tone were regretful.
“Now that you have come to me here, there can be but one result. Many times I have considered offering to share this place with you. I considered offering to accept your oath of service. You might try to buy my trust by giving me Wraithguard, Keening, and Sunder. I thought we might once again be friends... comrades... brothers in arms.”
Then he shook his head and added,
“But I have won this place and power by right of conquest. By right of daring and enterprise. I will not risk it to cunning and deceit. I offer you no deals. If you are my enemy, I cannot trust you. And even if you are not my enemy, I cannot let you live. It will all be decided here. I believe I will prevail. But I cannot be sure, and I am vain enough that, should I fall, I would wish to be remembered in my own words. So, if you have final questions you would ask, ask them now. I have final questions I would ask you, if you would answer.”
That seemed fair; besides, if we were talking, we wouldn’t be trying to kill each other. Therefore I said,
“I will answer your questions, if I can.”
Dagoth Ur squared his shoulders and asked,
“My first question is: Are you really Nerevar reborn?”
That was an interesting question, one that I had pondered quite often. Nothing I had experienced had convinced me that I was, in truth, Nerevar. Considering how many other voices had taken up residence in my head from time to time, the Chimer general had been a remarkably quiet guest, if he was there at all. Because it seemed to me that there had been deceit enough from the beginning of this affair, I would not add more lies to those already told, so I spoke as truthfully as I could,
“I am my own man, beholden to neither gods nor Emperor. I am an adventurer who would decide his own fate.”
That answer seemed to please him, although his response was not terribly comforting,
“You are bold. I honor your independence. You are one to teach the gods their limits. I hope the bards will praise the glory of your death in song.”
He then said,
“My second question is: if you win, what do you plan to do with the power from the Heart? Will you make yourself a god, and establish a thearchy? Or will you complete Akulakhan, and dispute control of Tamriel with the Septims? Or will you share the Heart with your followers, as I have, and breed a new race of divine immortals?”
Here was dangerous ground. I could tell him what he probably expected to hear- that I would make myself into a god, or that I would challenge the Empire. But I still refused to lie, saying instead,
“I have my own, secret plan for the Heart.” That was true, yet did not reveal that my plan was to destroy the malign source of his power. Even better, that answer satisfied him, for he said,
“Well. Perhaps there may be surprises in store for me yet. Or perhaps you obscure your plans on principle. Or perhaps you are an instinctive bluffer. No matter. My final question is: if I had offered to let you join me, would you have surrendered Wraithguard, Sunder, and Keening to me to seal your oath?”
This time, the truth was easy- “No, I would never join you.” Surprisingly, he remained gracious,
“Thank you for your forthright response. And now, if you have any questions, ask them. Otherwise, you are the challenger. I await your first blow.”
Wishing to delay the inevitable and also to find out more, I questioned him regarding his intentions for the Heart, the Dunmer, and Akulakhan. His answers proved not only his madness, but also the necessity of stopping him. He believed that corprus was the “touch of divinity,” and planned to spread it across all of Tamriel. With the transformed Dunmer and the animated giant called Akulakhan, he would carry conquest and disease throughout the world. Hoping to awaken some spark of the person he had once been, I asked him how he could justify the crimes he had committed in his pursuit of power. His answer boiled down to “the ends justify the means”- he was right; therefore whatever happened was not only necessary but just. In that moment I silently thanked whatever power or chance it was that had given me the ability to doubt myself. In Dagoth Ur, I faced the opposite, and his absolute certainty was the most frightening thing about him.
Unable to delay any longer, I admitted that I had no more questions, and he again offered me the opportunity to strike first. Yet even as I readied my sword, he proved himself to be a liar and a cheat. He sent forth a spell that instantly damaged my health as well as most of my abilities. As the fiery magical energy blossomed around me, my muscles weakened and my reflexes slowed. Furious at this latest example of his treachery, I thrust straight for his chest, for the place where he would have kept his heart if he had one. Making no attempt to dodge or block, Dagoth Ur countered with a backhanded blow that sent me to my knees. I gathered my wits and slashed furiously at his throat and unprotected chest, feeling the blade bite deep with every blow. A part of me thought, “This is too easy- surely he should be defending himself.” Then, between one sword-thrust and the next, he simply…vanished. I spun through a circle, expecting that he would appear behind me, but the chamber was empty. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed movement and realized that the Dwemer doors to one side of the cavern were now open. As I made my cautious way toward them, a glittering object on the threshold caught my eye. It was a ring, with an inscription that named it the Heart Ring. Highly magical, it would provide the wearer resistance to a number of forms of magical damage, or even dispel malicious magical effects. While it was a fabulous artifact, I had it in mind to use a somewhat more mundane item that I had been saving. Before opening the door, I unwrapped Sunder and Keening, knowing that I would need them ready to hand. So long as Lorkhan’s Heart survived, Dagoth Ur could not be defeated. Reminding myself that I must concentrate on the Heart, I pushed through the door into the chamber where Dagoth Ur waited.
When he saw me, his voice had become cold and sneering as he dropped all pretense of reason.
“What a fool you are! I am a god! How can you kill a god? What a grand and intoxicating innocence. How could you be so naďve? There is no escape. No Recall or Intervention spell will work in this place. Come. Lay down your weapons. It is not too late for my mercy.”
But now I knew the quality of his mercy, knew that it was a sham and a lie. Behind him loomed Akulakhan, the great Dwemer construct that he wished to turn into a god, a vessel to spread disease throughout Tamriel. It was huge beyond imagining, standing a hundred feet tall or more. And I could feel the presence of the Heart, feel the pulsing of its corrupting power. Sunder and Keening began to vibrate in resonance to the call of the Heart. True to his nature, even as he called on me to surrender, Dagoth Ur hurled his damaging spells at me. Through the pain, through the anger, through the fear, I held firm to my purpose- destroy the Heart. I knew I could not fight Dagoth Ur and attack the Heart at the same time, so I would need some help. With that in mind, I had readied the scroll that Dratha had given me so long ago, the scroll that would allow me to summon a Golden Saint to fight for me. While I had no hope that she would prevail, the Daedric creature would at least occupy my enemy while I attended to the Heart. I intoned the words and was gratified to see the creature materialize in front of me. Drawn by the Heart as if it were a lodestone, I rushed to the lip of the fiery pit that contained Akulakhan. Some forty feet below, I could see the Heart, held by a metal framework inside the construct itself. A wooden footbridge stretching from the lower ledge gave access to the Heart. I eyed the drop and said a prayer to any powers that might be listening, then launched myself from the ledge, hoping to land on the bridge.
Though I seemed to be rushing toward the lava at an incredible speed, I still had time to call myself several kinds of a fool on the way down. Then the bridge knocked the wind from my lungs and the thoughts from my head. One thing I hadn’t counted on- the wooden slats of the bridge were suspended by ropes- ropes that had some elasticity to them. The result of my dive was that, when I hit the bridge, I bounced. A desperate grab secured a hold on the edge of a board and I heaved myself back onto the deck. In the time it took to regain my breath, I paused to be grateful that I had never taken to wearing heavy armor- a set of Imperial plate probably would have punched me right through the wood. Nothing important seemed to be broken; better still, the grunts and blows from above meant that my summoning was still occupying Dagoth Ur. Gasping for breath, I limped across to the Heart of Lorkhan. Once there, I did not wait to examine the object that had been the cause of so much suffering. Instead, I grasped Sunder in both hands and smashed it down onto the glittering red stone. When the hammer struck home, Dagoth Ur grunted in pain. But I ignored him as I dropped Sunder and grasped Keening. With the first blow of the sword, Dagoth Ur shouted,
“What are you doing?”
Upon the second, he leaped down to confront me, screaming, “You fool! No!”
Still I ignored him and kept swinging. At the fifth blow, the Heart of Lorkhan crumbled to dust and vanished.
Dagoth Ur flailed at me in a horrified frenzy. Though his blows lacked coordination, they were still powerful. Throwing Keening to the ground, I drew my own ebony blade and began to drive the mad creature back. His spells seemed to have deserted him, and I blocked his clawing swings with my shield. Gone was his laughter, his taunting, his air of invincibility. At every cut of my sword, he seemed to grow smaller, weaker, more pathetic. But I had no mercy, not for him. At last, he took one backward step too many and teetered on the edge of the pit, arms wind-milling for balance. I didn’t push him, but I didn’t reach out to help him either. Silent at last, he fell into the Oblivion of his own creation.
As I turned to gather up Sunder and Keening, a tremor shook the cavern, and several rocks rained down. Apparently the destruction of the Heart had caused greater repercussions than I had realized. Bruised and battered, I raced across the swaying bridge, dodging falling stones. When I reached the other side, I turned to watch as Akulakhan began to tremble and crack. Slowly, majestically, pieces of the giant construct began to shatter and fall into the molten rock below. When the last piece had settled, I took a long look at Kagrenac’s Tools, the instruments that had tempted mortals to become gods. Although I believed the Heart was destroyed, I could not be sure. But I could put the Tools out of reach. One by one, I dropped Sunder, Keening, and Wraithguard into the pit. The churning lava reached up to embrace each one, then with a flare of brimstone and magicka, they were gone. I stared into the heart of the fire for a very long time, wondering if my soul would ever again feel clean. It is no small thing to kill a god, even a mad one. It is a burden that no mortal man should have to bear. But then, I wasn’t a mortal man any longer. I would have forever to live with the memories of my deeds. Step by step, I climbed back up out of the cavern, at last entering the room where I had first confronted Dagoth Ur. When I reached the passage leading back into the citadel, a figure materialized in front of me. In the shape of a woman, wearing a gown as blue as the sky, Azura held out her arms in welcome. She told me that I was free of the burden of prophecy, that the blight was ended, but that the people of Morrowind still faced other dangers, other enemies. As she began to fade, she intoned,
“Accept this gift from the hands of the gods.”
Where she had stood, a ring appeared, floating several feet above the ground. Taking the ring, I threaded it onto the same chain as the Emperor’s “little gift.” Together, they would serve as a constant reminder that gifts from the powerful always come with a price- usually one that you cannot afford to pay.
You and your extreamly long winded paragraphs. I need a nap after each update.
Trey finally has saved morrowind from the evil god(or demigod?) Dagoth Ur. Wonderfully written. Takes me back to when I first finished it... I think i'll go buy the game again and play it.
:goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob:
Trey finally has saved morrowind from the evil god(or demigod?) Dagoth Ur. Wonderfully written. Takes me back to when I first finished it... I think i'll go buy the game again and play it.
:goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob:
Thank you for a really detailed, wellwritten final battle with Dagoth Ur. I immensely enjoy the many thoughts that go through Trey's head that you let the reader in on.
Trey in the story seems so very humble with doubts and insecurity, but he fights against all odds and on behalf of others, even though he's not sure about his own power and ability to succeed.
The fight was described so well that I could picture it in my mind's eye and after reading all the chapters of the story so far I've come to admire Trey's personality, his loyalty, his quality of doubting himself and not being arrogantly selfassured as Dagoth Ur. In short: Trey seems human with strengths and weaknesses, and that is really a big achievement and one of the things that you do extremely well.
Also, there has been a lot of humour in some of the other chapters, which have made me smile or laugh.
It would be great, if you continued the story, but no pressure.
Trey in the story seems so very humble with doubts and insecurity, but he fights against all odds and on behalf of others, even though he's not sure about his own power and ability to succeed.
The fight was described so well that I could picture it in my mind's eye and after reading all the chapters of the story so far I've come to admire Trey's personality, his loyalty, his quality of doubting himself and not being arrogantly selfassured as Dagoth Ur. In short: Trey seems human with strengths and weaknesses, and that is really a big achievement and one of the things that you do extremely well.
Also, there has been a lot of humour in some of the other chapters, which have made me smile or laugh.
It would be great, if you continued the story, but no pressure.
Cool, Trey finally polished of DU. You gonna do the expansions now, or is this the end of Trey's adventures?
Amazing.
I'm a far-gone bookworm, and honestly this is one of the most well written pieces I have ever read. I really don't know what else to say, I'm speechless lol.
I'm a far-gone bookworm, and honestly this is one of the most well written pieces I have ever read. I really don't know what else to say, I'm speechless lol.
*looks up at treydog with a cute, pouty face*
It's not over is it? please tell me you are doing the expansnions *sniff* *tear*
Great addition :goodjob: though I will be disappointed if this is the end.
It's not over is it? please tell me you are doing the expansnions *sniff* *tear*
Great addition :goodjob: though I will be disappointed if this is the end.
[quote=LoneWolf] is this the end of Trey's adventures?[/quote]
Now let´s hope that this is not the end.....Trey´s story has been and still is my ultimate inspiration, there would have been no Serene if it hadn´t been for Trey.....
I´ve read this last two updates over and over, trying to recall when I actually played this scenario.....so I also feel the urge to play it again...
Maybe we should make a petition in order to really convince treydog that we all love his story sio much so we can´t stand it being finito?
:goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob:
Now let´s hope that this is not the end.....Trey´s story has been and still is my ultimate inspiration, there would have been no Serene if it hadn´t been for Trey.....
I´ve read this last two updates over and over, trying to recall when I actually played this scenario.....so I also feel the urge to play it again...
Maybe we should make a petition in order to really convince treydog that we all love his story sio much so we can´t stand it being finito?
:goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob: :goodjob:
Epilogue
At last, it was over. The blight and the ash storms were ended, the people no longer had to suffer troubling dreams, and Morrowind was free of Dagoth Ur. I too was free, free to consider all that I had done and all that had been done to me. Azura had her revenge on the Tribunes, who had been forced to admit their use of the Heart to make themselves into gods. She had strengthened the old ways of the Dunmeri- ancestor worship and even worship of the “good” Daedra- while saving the people of Morrowind. For myself, I walked slowly along the dusty trails, oblivious to the cheerful gratitude of those who recognized me. I wanted only to reach Bal Isra, my stronghold. When at last I found myself in my private quarters, I carefully laid aside my sword and armor, vowing that I would never use them again. Next, I tried to lose myself in my books or in alchemy, but the visions of the past would give me no peace. The multitude of those I had slain thronged the shadows and clamored for my attention. The only way I could find to silence them was to take a drink- and another, and another…. The next several weeks went by in a haze of drunkenness and violent rages. Somewhere during that time, perhaps more than once, Athyn Sarethi came to see me. I have a feeling that I was unforgivably rude to him; fortunately, I don’t actually recall.
One day, as I lay on my bed, suffering from a terrible hangover, there came a persistent knocking upon the door.
“Unless you’ve brought more brandy, go away,” I shouted, and immediately regretted it as my head seemed to split into several pieces. The knocking continued and I roused myself enough to throw an empty bottle at the door. My satisfaction at the breakage was tempered by a repeat of the feeling that my head was trying to explode. However, it also seemed to have the desired result, as the knocking ceased. I thought I could hear someone giving orders, but the room had begun spinning in a nausea-inducing way, so I collapsed back onto the pillows. Just as the spinning began to slow, the doors to the room (there suddenly seemed to be three or four of them where there had only been one before) were flung open, and through each door marched several identical women wearing Redoran colors and bearing buckets. “Oh, goody,” I mumbled, “A parade.” The bucket-bearing apparitions stepped over the broken furniture and advanced upon the bed. Without a word, they upended the buckets, dousing me with icy-cold water. As I spluttered and choked, the figures blended into just one tall, dark-haired woman, holding an empty bucket and looking at me carefully. I lurched upright and roared,
“Who the Oblivion are you?” Again, shouting was a bad idea, and I clutched my head as lightning seemed to flash behind my eyes.
My visitor seemed as unimpressed by my shouting as she was by my appearance. She simply waited until I more or less collapsed back onto the bed, then said in an amused voice,
“If you are ready to behave civilly, I can cure your affliction. If not, I have a number of other buckets at my disposal.”
She raised one eyebrow and waited for my response. A cure for the twenty or so tiny Dwemer smiths who had taken up residence in my head seemed a reasonable trade for a few minutes’ conversation. Besides, the sooner she said whatever it was she had to say, the sooner she would leave. Then I could get back to some serious drinking. Rather than risk speaking again, I gave a short nod. With that encouragement, she placed a cool hand on either side of my head and spoke some words which I couldn’t understand. A flash of burning cold seemed to enter my temples and exit through the soles of my feet, and then I was sober and clear-eyed for the first time in weeks. My mouth still tasted as if I had tried to swallow half the Ashlands, but at least I could think. My visitor had turned away and begun straightening the room while I took a moment to pull myself together. I observed her out of the corner of my eye as I stood and splashed more cold water on my face. She was of unmistakable Imperial heritage, a tall woman, dark-haired and dark-eyed. As she moved around the room, stopping to admire my glass armor, I realized that there was something familiar about her. Then it came to me and I said,
“You! It was you I saw in the Ashlander camps and Ald’ruhn! Who are you?”
She turned, made a mocking curtsey and said, “Since you ask so politely, how can I refuse to answer? I am Serene, formerly of Cyrodiil, now head of House Redoran. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Trey.”
She then explained that she, too, had been sent to Vvardenfell as an agent of the Emperor- and of Azura. One of her tasks had been to smooth the path for and watch over a certain stubborn Breton ex-prisoner. But the fulfillment of prophecy required that I make my choices freely, without direct aid from any outside source. So it was that Serene had gone before me, preparing the way, speaking for me, building a relationship with the Ashlanders so that they would be willing to accept an outlander as Nerevarine. But that was all in the past; today she wished to speak of the future and my place in it.
“House Redoran needs you; Morrowind needs you. So don’t you think it’s time you stopped feeling sorry for yourself?”
I snarled my answer, “I am done carrying a sword for anyone ever again. You will have to find another to do your killing for you.”
Serene shook her head sadly. “I know how the deaths have weighed on you, Trey. I am a healer myself; I respect your desire to never fight again. But please listen. Although Dagoth Ur is gone, the land still needs to be healed. That is the task that lies before me. If you would agree to help, it will be much easier. No doubt you have encountered those people who call themselves ‘Sleepers?’ Now that Dagoth Ur no longer reaches into their dreams, they wander the land, unable to free themselves completely of his influence. As the Nerevarine, you alone can help them make that final step back to sanity. Won’t you please help?”
What could I do except agree? Each Sleeper I saved would be part payment for a life I had taken. To finally have a chance to give life back to people appealed to me strongly, so I agreed to go back out into the world. Serene thanked me for my promise, then wrinkled her nose prettily.
“There is one other thing. I am to be married in a few days, and you would be an honored guest. If it isn’t too much to ask, would you please take a bath before you come to my wedding?”
Postscript
Now, many years later, I look back over the pages that I have written and remember, too, the things not written. And as I wonder if it was all worth it, the door opens and she is there, her hair unbound and a lamp in her hand. She smiles fondly at me and says,
“Are you nearly finished? It’s late and the children are already in bed.”
That smile is all the answer I will ever need.
[i]Here Ends the Story of Trey
At last, it was over. The blight and the ash storms were ended, the people no longer had to suffer troubling dreams, and Morrowind was free of Dagoth Ur. I too was free, free to consider all that I had done and all that had been done to me. Azura had her revenge on the Tribunes, who had been forced to admit their use of the Heart to make themselves into gods. She had strengthened the old ways of the Dunmeri- ancestor worship and even worship of the “good” Daedra- while saving the people of Morrowind. For myself, I walked slowly along the dusty trails, oblivious to the cheerful gratitude of those who recognized me. I wanted only to reach Bal Isra, my stronghold. When at last I found myself in my private quarters, I carefully laid aside my sword and armor, vowing that I would never use them again. Next, I tried to lose myself in my books or in alchemy, but the visions of the past would give me no peace. The multitude of those I had slain thronged the shadows and clamored for my attention. The only way I could find to silence them was to take a drink- and another, and another…. The next several weeks went by in a haze of drunkenness and violent rages. Somewhere during that time, perhaps more than once, Athyn Sarethi came to see me. I have a feeling that I was unforgivably rude to him; fortunately, I don’t actually recall.
One day, as I lay on my bed, suffering from a terrible hangover, there came a persistent knocking upon the door.
“Unless you’ve brought more brandy, go away,” I shouted, and immediately regretted it as my head seemed to split into several pieces. The knocking continued and I roused myself enough to throw an empty bottle at the door. My satisfaction at the breakage was tempered by a repeat of the feeling that my head was trying to explode. However, it also seemed to have the desired result, as the knocking ceased. I thought I could hear someone giving orders, but the room had begun spinning in a nausea-inducing way, so I collapsed back onto the pillows. Just as the spinning began to slow, the doors to the room (there suddenly seemed to be three or four of them where there had only been one before) were flung open, and through each door marched several identical women wearing Redoran colors and bearing buckets. “Oh, goody,” I mumbled, “A parade.” The bucket-bearing apparitions stepped over the broken furniture and advanced upon the bed. Without a word, they upended the buckets, dousing me with icy-cold water. As I spluttered and choked, the figures blended into just one tall, dark-haired woman, holding an empty bucket and looking at me carefully. I lurched upright and roared,
“Who the Oblivion are you?” Again, shouting was a bad idea, and I clutched my head as lightning seemed to flash behind my eyes.
My visitor seemed as unimpressed by my shouting as she was by my appearance. She simply waited until I more or less collapsed back onto the bed, then said in an amused voice,
“If you are ready to behave civilly, I can cure your affliction. If not, I have a number of other buckets at my disposal.”
She raised one eyebrow and waited for my response. A cure for the twenty or so tiny Dwemer smiths who had taken up residence in my head seemed a reasonable trade for a few minutes’ conversation. Besides, the sooner she said whatever it was she had to say, the sooner she would leave. Then I could get back to some serious drinking. Rather than risk speaking again, I gave a short nod. With that encouragement, she placed a cool hand on either side of my head and spoke some words which I couldn’t understand. A flash of burning cold seemed to enter my temples and exit through the soles of my feet, and then I was sober and clear-eyed for the first time in weeks. My mouth still tasted as if I had tried to swallow half the Ashlands, but at least I could think. My visitor had turned away and begun straightening the room while I took a moment to pull myself together. I observed her out of the corner of my eye as I stood and splashed more cold water on my face. She was of unmistakable Imperial heritage, a tall woman, dark-haired and dark-eyed. As she moved around the room, stopping to admire my glass armor, I realized that there was something familiar about her. Then it came to me and I said,
“You! It was you I saw in the Ashlander camps and Ald’ruhn! Who are you?”
She turned, made a mocking curtsey and said, “Since you ask so politely, how can I refuse to answer? I am Serene, formerly of Cyrodiil, now head of House Redoran. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Trey.”
She then explained that she, too, had been sent to Vvardenfell as an agent of the Emperor- and of Azura. One of her tasks had been to smooth the path for and watch over a certain stubborn Breton ex-prisoner. But the fulfillment of prophecy required that I make my choices freely, without direct aid from any outside source. So it was that Serene had gone before me, preparing the way, speaking for me, building a relationship with the Ashlanders so that they would be willing to accept an outlander as Nerevarine. But that was all in the past; today she wished to speak of the future and my place in it.
“House Redoran needs you; Morrowind needs you. So don’t you think it’s time you stopped feeling sorry for yourself?”
I snarled my answer, “I am done carrying a sword for anyone ever again. You will have to find another to do your killing for you.”
Serene shook her head sadly. “I know how the deaths have weighed on you, Trey. I am a healer myself; I respect your desire to never fight again. But please listen. Although Dagoth Ur is gone, the land still needs to be healed. That is the task that lies before me. If you would agree to help, it will be much easier. No doubt you have encountered those people who call themselves ‘Sleepers?’ Now that Dagoth Ur no longer reaches into their dreams, they wander the land, unable to free themselves completely of his influence. As the Nerevarine, you alone can help them make that final step back to sanity. Won’t you please help?”
What could I do except agree? Each Sleeper I saved would be part payment for a life I had taken. To finally have a chance to give life back to people appealed to me strongly, so I agreed to go back out into the world. Serene thanked me for my promise, then wrinkled her nose prettily.
“There is one other thing. I am to be married in a few days, and you would be an honored guest. If it isn’t too much to ask, would you please take a bath before you come to my wedding?”
Postscript
Now, many years later, I look back over the pages that I have written and remember, too, the things not written. And as I wonder if it was all worth it, the door opens and she is there, her hair unbound and a lamp in her hand. She smiles fondly at me and says,
“Are you nearly finished? It’s late and the children are already in bed.”
That smile is all the answer I will ever need.
[i]Here Ends the Story of Trey
Normally, I try not to say too much "outside the story;" I hope it will speak for itself. But, with this being the final installment, I feel the need to add just a bit.
First: Is this the end of Trey's adventures? No. I have drafted the opening for the next piece. It may be a while before I begin posting; I want to get enough material "in the book" to be able to update regularly.
More important: A great many people deserve my thanks for all of their help and faithful readership. Quite a few of them are here at W4O. Specifically, a heartfelt thank-you to Alexander and Stargelman for hosting the story and for providing a place where all of us can share story ideas. Their work and kindness can never be repaid.
If I start naming individuals, I will leave out someone important, and since you are ALL important, I don't want to do that. So- thank you to everyone who read, everyone who wrote, everyone who decided that they had a story to tell. It is a joy and a privilege to get to spend time (not as much as I would like) with such a talented group of people. Funny, I don't remember turning the "blurry" font on- must be a sign that it is time to close. :paperbag2:
First: Is this the end of Trey's adventures? No. I have drafted the opening for the next piece. It may be a while before I begin posting; I want to get enough material "in the book" to be able to update regularly.
More important: A great many people deserve my thanks for all of their help and faithful readership. Quite a few of them are here at W4O. Specifically, a heartfelt thank-you to Alexander and Stargelman for hosting the story and for providing a place where all of us can share story ideas. Their work and kindness can never be repaid.
If I start naming individuals, I will leave out someone important, and since you are ALL important, I don't want to do that. So- thank you to everyone who read, everyone who wrote, everyone who decided that they had a story to tell. It is a joy and a privilege to get to spend time (not as much as I would like) with such a talented group of people. Funny, I don't remember turning the "blurry" font on- must be a sign that it is time to close. :paperbag2:
Whoa, cool coneection.
*goes to catch up on the 600000 updates he's missed on Serene....*
Glad to hear that it isn't actually over.
Farewell the original story of Trey... :goodjob:
*goes to catch up on the 600000 updates he's missed on Serene....*
Glad to hear that it isn't actually over.
Farewell the original story of Trey... :goodjob:
[quote=treydog]Normally, I try not to say too much "outside the story;" I hope it will speak for itself. But, with this being the final installment, I feel the need to add just a bit.
First: Is this the end of Trey's adventures? No. I have drafted the opening for the next piece. It may be a while before I begin posting; I want to get enough material "in the book" to be able to update regularly.
More important: A great many people deserve my thanks for all of their help and faithful readership. Quite a few of them are here at W4O. Specifically, a heartfelt thank-you to Alexander and Stargelman for hosting the story and for providing a place where all of us can share story ideas. Their work and kindness can never be repaid.
If I start naming individuals, I will leave out someone important, and since you are ALL important, I don't want to do that. So- thank you to everyone who read, everyone who wrote, everyone who decided that they had a story to tell. It is a joy and a privilege to get to spend time (not as much as I would like) with such a talented group of people. Funny, I don't remember turning the "blurry" font on- must be a sign that it is time to close. :paperbag2:[/quote]
After reading that... :crying2: I have to... go to... do... someclothwashing.
First: Is this the end of Trey's adventures? No. I have drafted the opening for the next piece. It may be a while before I begin posting; I want to get enough material "in the book" to be able to update regularly.
More important: A great many people deserve my thanks for all of their help and faithful readership. Quite a few of them are here at W4O. Specifically, a heartfelt thank-you to Alexander and Stargelman for hosting the story and for providing a place where all of us can share story ideas. Their work and kindness can never be repaid.
If I start naming individuals, I will leave out someone important, and since you are ALL important, I don't want to do that. So- thank you to everyone who read, everyone who wrote, everyone who decided that they had a story to tell. It is a joy and a privilege to get to spend time (not as much as I would like) with such a talented group of people. Funny, I don't remember turning the "blurry" font on- must be a sign that it is time to close. :paperbag2:[/quote]
After reading that... :crying2: I have to... go to... do... someclothwashing.
No story is truely complete without a drunken rage in it somewhere
Awesome story treydog, I can't wait for the next part(s).
Awesome story treydog, I can't wait for the next part(s).
Great as always Treydog! :goodjob:
wow great job Trey, Great job indead. it is good to hear that you aren't stopping there and continuing on in other ways.
That was awsome.. I don't know what else to say...
That was a good "end" to a long and entertaining read. Really nice to see both you and mingue including each other's main characters in your stories.
I'll be looking forward to the next installment about Trey.
I'll be looking forward to the next installment about Trey.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again: awesome, simply awesome.
I knew, from comments you'd made on the ES forum that you were undertaking the Tribunal and BloodMoon quests and am delighted to hear that you are consigning them to paper for the next installment. I wait, with baited breath, for the next thrilling installment of [echo]TREY's ADVENTURES IN VVARDENFELL[/echo]
I knew, from comments you'd made on the ES forum that you were undertaking the Tribunal and BloodMoon quests and am delighted to hear that you are consigning them to paper for the next installment. I wait, with baited breath, for the next thrilling installment of [echo]TREY's ADVENTURES IN VVARDENFELL[/echo]
Great story Trey you have a great writing style and I especially liked how well described all the fight scenes were.
I just finished chapter 9 so im almost caught up 
.
So far, very nice. Laced with humor and wit throughout the beginning, and as Trey transfroms from a scoundrel (an honorable one at that) to a more knightly individual, the story as well takes on a more serious tone.
The best fanfic I have ever read so far. (Granted I havn't read very many, so no offense to any writers that may read this post.)
.So far, very nice. Laced with humor and wit throughout the beginning, and as Trey transfroms from a scoundrel (an honorable one at that) to a more knightly individual, the story as well takes on a more serious tone.
The best fanfic I have ever read so far. (Granted I havn't read very many, so no offense to any writers that may read this post.)
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