interesting...trey has mentioned where to find a cool dagger, i need more daggers.

I never liked trueflames that much, its very hard indeed for my sneaky barbarian mage guy to sneak with the damned sword letting every half guar smuggler know im coming within a 20 feet radius of light, and i like daggers better, plus it was very heavy, and powerful enough in enchantments to amke me afraid of reflections.

As I calmed myself from the after-effects of the duel with Karrod, what I thought of as the rational part of my mind took over. Even though I now possibly possessed two pieces of the sword of Nerevar, it was not really proof of anything. I knew, as Karrod did not, that I had beaten him through trickery. Perhaps his father had spoken some appropriate-sounding words when he passed the Dwemer sword along. But what would be more natural than to add a suitable story to an ancient weapon? Half the swords in Tamriel probably had impressive stories to go with them- and more than half of those stories were romantic nonsense. Just because I now held two fragments of a sword that might have once belonged to Nerevar did not mean that I was his reincarnation. I also had the Dagger of Symmachus- that did not make me Helseth’s father. What I needed to do was put the sword aside and concentrate on stopping Almalexia. Unfortunately, that meant I was going to have to see her again in order to ask about Sotha Sil, the missing member of the Tribunal.

I have mentioned before that I was not fond of the gods. Almalexia in particular irked me with her manipulations and rationalizations and self-serving lies. But what really annoyed me was her single-mindedness. She knew what she wanted and she did not want to hear about anything else. Such was my experience when I went to ask her about Sotha Sil and the fabricants. As before, she floated in the center of the dome of her Temple, her face frozen in statue-like stillness. When she saw me she spoke immediately, her eyes seeming to burn with some fevered imagining,

“You were to forge the blade of Nerevar. Have you succeeded? How I long to see Trueflame burning once again alongside Hopesfire. Return to me when you hold the blade in your hands.”

With that, her eyes turned inward and she would say no more. With great effort, I restrained my desire to punch the bland masks of the Ordinators and left the Temple.

Crazy though she undoubtedly was, Almalexia had said that all the parts of the sword were in Mournhold, and she had been correct so far. From what I could see, only one more piece was still missing. And that was wonderful, except for the fact that it could be anywhere in or under the city. And even though I had covered a fair amount of the buried ruins, a broken sword blade was easy to overlook. On the plus side, the metal was exotic, the sort of thing someone would collect, even if they were unsure of its function or origin. I cast about in my mind, trying to determine who I knew that might be versed in the sort of historic arcana that could provide a clue as to the whereabouts of the missing piece. As I considered the problem, my hand idly brushed the hilt of the Dagger of Symmachus. Thinking of the old Dunmer general inevitably caused me to think of Barenziah, and those thoughts led me to her biographer and friend- Plitinius Mero. Biographer, friend, and…historian. If anyone might know something of the blade of Nerevar, it would be the old Imperial writer. I returned to the Palace courtyard, where he had set up a portable writing desk and was chewing thoughtfully on the end of a quill pen. Upon my approach, his eyes brightened and he threw down the quill and bounded to his feet.

“You are to be congratulated, I hear! To have defeated Karrod is quite a feat of arms, my boy! I imagine the bards are composing songs about it even now. They’ll get it wrong, of course; they always do- sacrificing historical accuracy for a good story and to make a better rhyme….”

When he paused for breath, I jumped in and said,

“Actually, it was history about which I wished to speak with you- rather ancient history, to be honest.”

When he signaled his interest, I drew out the pieces of the sword that might once have been Trueflame and explained that I sought the last one. As I finished, Plitinius’ eyes took on a faraway look and he spoke softly, almost to himself:

“An attempt to reforge the blade of Nerevar. Interesting....”

He paused for a long moment and then came back to himself and added,

“I wish I knew where to tell you to look, but my knowledge of the blade is somewhat limited. Perhaps you'd do better speaking with Torasa Aram, the curator at the Museum of Artifacts. Her knowledge is extensive when it comes to unique items. Let me know what you discover. This could be quite a story.”

I had seen the Museum- had, in fact, watched Salas Valor fall upon his sword just outside the front door of the building not so long ago. But for some reason, I had never ventured inside- which was decidedly odd for someone who considered himself a thief. Of course, Plitinius himself had identified one of the main problems- unique items are not the best choice for a thief who wants to live a long and prosperous life. The risk of obtaining such is usually extremely high, and the reward is only a fraction of the true value. And you are going to always be at the mercy of anyone who knows that you are the one who stole the great and valuable treasure of the Cult of the Three-legged Lizard people or whatever. So, I had not visited the Museum, but now I could remedy that oversight.

The first thing I noticed upon entering the Museum was that they seemed to be long on display space and short on items to display. There was a massive hammer and a worn book, and- well, that was about it. Maybe some more desperate or less introspective thief had already paid them a visit, in which case I really did not want to return to the scene of the crime, even if it hadn’t been my crime. The second thing I saw was a sharp-featured Dunmeri who bore down upon me with all the grace and fierceness of an Imperial warship. She appraised me with a quick eye and apparently decided I was not the sort of patron she wanted on the premises- at least that was how I interpreted her dismissive sniff. Putting on my blandest expression, I introduced myself and explained that I was searching for the remains of Nerevar’s sword. I also mentioned that Plitinius Mero had sent me to the Museum, which revelation seemed to improve the elf’s attitude considerably.

She acknowledged my words and stated that she was Torasa Aram, the curator of the Museum. My story about Trueflame had clearly excited her interest, as she replied,

“The pieces of the Blade of Nerevar here in Mournhold? Now there's something I'd like to get my hands on for the Museum. I can't say that I have seen any that I know of, but I do have one piece from roughly the same time, and it seems to be of Dwemer construction.”

She frowned and continued,

“I don't even have it on display, because I haven't been able to positively identify it yet. It's a shield of Dwemer make, but not traditional in any sense of the word. The pieces of it just don't seem to match, and I've wondered if it isn't some sort of a fake. I suppose I might be able to part with it, but I'll need some compensation.”

The hope that I had felt when she first mentioned a piece of the right vintage was crushed by her description of the artifact. I was seeking a sword, not a shield. Still, it probably would not hurt to look at the blasted thing and it would probably make her feel better. Therefore, I asked if I might examine the piece in question- carefully, of course, and under supervision. She escorted me to a locked storage area and opened the door to reveal the sort of amalgam of odds and ends one might expect in such a place. One table held a heavy Dwemer shield, just as she had described, complete with an odd spike or protrusion of some other metal which seemed to be jammed into the center. And I recognized that peculiar metal- it was the same as the two pieces I had gotten from Almalexia and Karrod.

Very nice conversation with the curator, it makes you wonder why we did it in the game, we don't know if it is or isn't what we were looking for.... yet we still did the stuff for it. Anyways, excellent addition Trey, can't wait for more

Uh oh... looks like Trey's going to have to reforge that blade anyway...

And oh yes, nice chapter... as always. A new installment is an excellent addition to any day.

Ahh yes, at last Trey visited the Museum, one would have thought that it would be the first place he visited, but but.. It seems however he might have found something useful in there anyway. I really can´t wait for the continuation. If this protruded thingy really is the missing piece...well then the problem will arise..How on Nirn will get his hands on it?

Trey will certainly manage..oh aye!

Hehe, I liked what you did with Mero's characterization, very scholarly-like. And I also liked that you actually went to see the piece before getting it, very realistic.

It will be interesting to see what Trey will do to get it.

I believed that the Dwemer shield contained the last missing piece of the sword, but I couldn’t very well start wrenching at the artifact in front of Torasa Aram. She had, however, mentioned that she might be willing to let it go- for “suitable compensation.” The only question now was what she might consider suitable. The rattle of the interminable ash-storm outside reminded me that time was not a luxury I enjoyed and that I would have to forgo the pleasure of a long session of haggling. Therefore I rather bluntly asked,

“What sort of ‘compensation’ do you have in mind? I am not wealthy, but I might be able to donate some gold to the Museum….”

She smiled the contented smile of an angler who knows that the fish has taken the bait and dismissed my offer of gold with a wave.

“Generally, gold will not buy the sort of thing we seek. I would prefer new pieces for the Museum of Artifacts. Unique items, armor and weapons of lore--you know the stuff. If you would be willing to donate a couple to the Museum, I'd be willing to part with the shield.”

My heart sank once more. My reasons for not wanting to rob the Museum were even more to the point when it came to obtaining the kind of items Torasa was talking about. Assuming you could determine the location of a legendary weapon or piece of armor, chances were good that someone or something was guarding it and would not willingly part with it, no matter how noble your cause. And I simply did not have time to go all across Tamriel, sticking my nose into tombs and barrows, where I would no doubt find lots of undead, spider-webs, and corroded metal that might once have been valuable. Still, I had acquired a few odd pieces that I might be able to palm off… ah- donate to the Museum. Like many thieves, I had an encyclopedic knowledge of every coin, gem, and other bit of plunder I had amassed- and usually a good memory of from whence it had come. After mentally riffling through my catalog of loot, I thought of one possibility- the peculiar sword I had received from Sunel Hlas. Not wishing to appear too eager, I slowly said,

“Well, I might have one thing. It’s a two-handed sword with a regular edge on one side and saw-toothed on the other. It has some rather powerful and peculiar enchantments….”

Torasa stopped me with a firm nod and said,

“Oh yes! The Bipolar Blade. Legend has it that a nobleman sank his fortune into creating a blade of supreme power. Two smiths on opposite ends of Tamriel created each half of the blade, unaware of the other, with the hope that no one man, save the owner of the blade, would know its true power. Unfortunately, the smiths were not given enough instruction, and created halves with enchantments that completely negated each other. Do you wish to part with it, Trey? It is just the sort of item we are seeking.”

When I allowed that I would be willing to consider donating the sword, Torasa beamed at me and said,

“Wonderful! Do you have it with you? I would like to examine it before making a final decision.”

When I admitted that the sword was, in fact, wrapped up in some old sacks and hidden under a bed in the Winged Guar, the Dunmer was scandalized.

“Oh dear! That is no way to treat a precious artifact! Please, I must insist that you bring it to me at once. Who knows what might happen to it? It could be stolen or lost again. Don’t just stand there like a lout- go, go!”

I did not have the heart to tell her that I actually had rather hoped the peculiar sword would be stolen- it gave me chills just to handle the blasted thing. But, if it was safe in the Museum, it would not be able to insinuate itself into my mind and I would not have to feel guilty about spurning Sunel’s gift.

As I passed through the bar of the Winged Guar, Ra’Tesh gave me a friendly wave and called,

“One has heard you defeated Karrod, but he was not too badly damaged. This is a good thing.”

That was a relief- there were few people in Mournhold upon whom I could depend, and Ra’Tesh was one of them. I acknowledged his greeting with a promise to tell him all about it and went to my room to retrieve the odd sword. Interestingly, when I actually returned with the Bipolar Blade, Torasa’s earlier enthusiasm seemed to have waned somewhat. She handled the sword as if it was a dead rodent she had discovered in her dresser and rather stiffly said,

“Yes, well. It will take up a place in our collection. Likely a place towards the back. Thank you, Trey, I’m sure.”

Although her cool response to my generosity gave me no great hope, I nevertheless asked,

“Now, about that Dwemer shield…?”

Torasa shook her head with an air of finality.

“While I appreciate your- erm- kindness in donating the Bipolar Blade, we are really looking for something with more, well- presence, is the word, I suppose. Something like the Lord’s Mail or Chrysamere, with a bl-, um storied history.”

I did not even try to argue- did not try to tell her that I thought all I was likely to do in a search for one of those things was to add my bones to the “storied” history of the artifact in question. The situation was becoming desperate and I might have to consider desperate measures. As I contemplated the chances of a successful theft of the shield (not good, given the interest I had just shown in the artifact), I felt something digging into my ribs and reached down to shift the irritating object. My hand closed on the hilt of a dagger and I had a sudden inspiration. Quick as a thought, I unsheathed the blade, which glittered with its own inner magic as well as the reflected light from the windows. As Torasa Aram’s eyes widened in surprise, I hesitated for only an instant, then acted on the impulse that had moved me. There was no other way.

Hehe, neat ending to this update Trey. Again I love the characterization you created for Torasa. I look forward to seeing what Trey does with the "blade".

aye, as will I. Love it Trey. keep up the good work.

noooooooooo dont give the dagger, keep the dagger, daggers are you friends, go find some other item, dont sell the dagger sell a claymore or something huge and wihtout the elegeance of a dagger. Go get crysamere, or go fight umbra for his sword, join the imp cult and get the ice blade. i liek daggers please trey, the ash storm can wait.......ok if you must.......give the dagger but only if you steal it back ok......

Judgin from treys character up to this point i bet i know what he'll do with trueflame when he finish tribunal, but im not telling

O_o....now what? Ehhh what´s he gonna do? kill her? threaten her? or what? I know Trey very well by now since I´ve followed him all the way from the stables in High Rock, but I must admit this thing I do not know!

So now 'I´ll be siiting here..put, to wait for the continuation!

Gonna try with the Dagger of Symmachus aye or maybe not? Interesting - keep up the good work Trey, I'll be waiting

Oh, trading? That might work, seeing as how that dagger belonged to a king. Then again, it is not made by an Aedra or a Daedra so it might not be all that good.

And Wraithguard, please don't even try to suggest that Trey should go find Chrysamere and then give it to that museum. A certain Chrysamere fanboy here would never even dream of parting with it. It is like a part of my soul.

And as a final note, what's up with this super-unique museum? Really, it is no surprise that they have nothing to display. Then again, it seems that every simple adventurer trips over unique stuff all over the place. Maybe the museum owner just needs to get outside more. After the Ash storm is gone.

I'm a little concerned about this spur-of-the-moment idea that occurred to Trey while in possession of the Bipolar Blade. It would seem that nothing good could come from this, but I sincerely hope that I am wrong. Trey has always been so conscientious about where, when, and whom he kills, and I hope that even this blade cannot overcome his great strength of character.

Should I say that his impulse was to donate the Dagger, and that Torasa Aram's reaction was seeing the legendary Dagger of Symmachus' in Trey's hand?

Oh, wait, I just did.....

ok,um...........how about the spear of bitter mercy then....does anyone use spears
HANDS ANYONE

just dont donate the dagger......PPPPPPLLLLLLLEEEEEEAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSEEEEEEEEEE

or longswords(wait the bipolar blade was a longsword) ok dont donate katanas,specifacally,or hammers, or any sort of marksman weapon.....or armor.......especially heavy armor...............................hell i dont even know what the dagger does...........................................please steal the dagger back please.

what about the ring of surrondings??? i think the timeline fits with the two storylines, and trey doesnt really care for it, right trey.....trey???......................................theres another ring at the dren plantation in that tower shack if you need it, trey doesnt like orval dren anyways right...........i mean he has slaves and he is a hlaalu and he is cammona thats three strikes against him in treys redoran/thieves/abolitonist nature book
dren wont miss it.

You guys are too smart for me.... Mrs. Treydog said at that time I read the ending that no one would believe Trey would attack Torasa. That's what I get for writing a consistent character.

When I reversed the weapon so that Torasa could see the insignia on the hilt, her eyes widened even further. Astonished, she gasped,

“The ceremonial dagger of General Symmachus? How did you come to possess this? What a local treasure! If you're willing to part with it, I can offer you 10,000 gold for it.”

The gold sounded wonderful, and at another time, I would have accepted it with pleasure. But my need was one that no amount of money would fill, so I simply shook my head and looked pointedly at the dusty Dwemer shield. With some regret, I passed over the dagger and Torasa Aram nodded. As she lovingly examined the artifact of General Symmachus, she spoke dreamily:

“You've been quite a friend to the Museum, Trey. I'll give you the shield. I'm classifying it as a Dwemer Battle Shield. As I said, I'm not sure what to make of it. The spike attached to the front of the shield seems to be loose, but a competent smith can probably take care of that for you. Good luck to you, and if you're able to recreate the Blade of Nerevar, I'd love to see the finished product.”

With no further word, she seemed to dismiss me from her thinking, bustling off to find a suitable place for her new acquisition. And that was fine with me, for I had plans of my own. I knew just the smith who I wanted to examine the shield with its mysterious “spike.” Of course, considering what had happened to the ebony sword I had acquired from him the last time we met, I was not sure what sort of reception to expect.

As it turned out, I need not have worried- Yagak was actually happy to see me. He clapped me on the shoulder with a work-roughened hand, nearly knocking me off my feet. Then he boomed,

“So, Trey! I made a lot of money from you! Everyone who saw that sword wants to commission something- glass, ebony, adamantium, even steel and silver. And giving it to Karrod- that was a stroke of genius! I just wish I had placed a wager on you- the odds were really something. But who could have predicted that you would win? Now, what can I do for you?”

I produced the Dwemer shield and explained my suspicion about the “spike” protruding from the center. Yagak turned the artifact over in his hands and wiggled the mismatched piece thoughtfully. He then laid it on the forge and reached for a pair of tongs, saying,

“Hmmm...an odd construction to be sure. Let me see.... As I thought. These two pieces aren't supposed to be attached. Looks like a regular Dwemer shield with this other piece attached. Hope you didn't pay too much for that shield, friend. It's nothing special as far as I can see. The other piece is interesting, though. Dwemer in origin, but unlike anything I've seen before.”

As he spoke, he grasped the odd bit of metal with the tongs and wrenched it free. He handed me the two separate pieces of Dwemer craft and turned back to his work. As he did so, I rummaged through my gear and pulled out the two pieces- supposedly from Nerevar’s blade- that I had been given by Almalexia and Karrod. Sure enough, the odd bit from the shield was the final piece. A strange sort of madness overtook me then, and I felt as if I was floating free of my body. Great forces were clearly at work here, forces that were too much even for one as stubborn as I to withstand.

I tapped Yagak on the shoulder to get his attention and he turned to me with an exasperated grunt.

“You know, I do have work to do…. I mean, I like you all right for a pink-skinned squishy, but….”

Before he could complete the thought, I indicated the fragments and asked,

“These are supposed to be the pieces of Nerevar’s blade. Could you make them into a sword again?”

He rubbed his chin and studied the fractured metal, then said,

“I can make any blade you want. Don't care whose it was to start with, or who this Nerevar is. Give me the pieces, and I'll put it together better than it was before. To work with that kind of material, I'll work for free. You've got some interesting pieces there. I can work with this. Make the best blade you've ever seen...not that I figure you'd know a daikatana from a butter knife. Come back in two days' time, and I'll have your blade. Now leave me alone.”

With that, he took the parts of the blade and laid them in the forge. Still wrapped in that dream-like state, I wandered out of the Craftsmen’s Hall.

The next two days passed in that dreamy haze- I remember only bits and pieces. I spent a fair amount of time at the Winged Guar, eating but avoiding strong drink; other times, Karrod tutored me in the finer points of swordsmanship. I was grateful for the lessons- even in my distracted condition, I seemed to sense a dark cloud on the horizon. Though I felt powerless to control my destination, I would at least have something to say about what happened when I got there. And then the morning dawned on the third day and I went once more to see an Orc about a sword.

Somehow, the work on Trueflame seemed to have caused Yagak to revert to his Orcish roots- maybe it was singing the Orc song that did it. In any event, he grunted at me and poked the hilt of the blade into my mid-section, saying,

“I made your blade for you. Damn good work, too! Now leave me alone. Here's your blade. And before you ask, I don't know why it doesn't burn. I'm a smith, not an enchanter. You want Dwemer enchantments on this thing, talk to a Dwemer.”

The completed sword was as odd as I had expected- a broad, curved blade, rather like what a pirate cutlass might be when it grew up, flanked by pointed guards that could trap an opponent’s blade. Visually, it seemed as if it would be awkward to wield, yet it fit well in my hand and was wonderfully balanced. Despite its size, it could easily be used with one hand- which I appreciated, as I preferred to have a shield in my off hand. Regardless of whose blade it had been or anything that Almalexia might say, I felt no great affinity to the sword; no new voices sounded in my head when I handled it- it was simply an antique weapon.

Finally, the rest of Yagaks’ words registered- the ones about the sword not “burning.” And that recalled Almalexia’s admonition that she wished to see Trueflame and Hopesfire “burning together once more.” Without even going to the Temple, I knew that the goddess would not be satisfied with the sword as it was- she would insist on seeing Trueflame burning. And that apparently meant finding a Dwemer enchanter. Of course the Dwemer had mysteriously vanished thousands of years ago, but that hardly seemed an insurmountable obstacle after everything else I had gone through. I was a bit annoyed at Yagak though. After all, he had been going on about how much money I had made for him and now he was grumping and grunting and generally being a pain. In my irritation, I blurted out,

“Find a Dwemer enchanter? And just how do you propose I do that? By singing an Orc song, perhaps?”

It is never a good idea to antagonize an Orc, especially not an Orc who has a large hammer in his hand, which hammer he uses to shape resistant metals day in and day out. Yagak turned very slowly to face me, and his eyes burned hot as the forge fires where he worked. He drew back the hammer and brought it down upon the anvil with a crash that shook the building. Then he started to laugh.

“You need to lighten up, Trey. You keep going the way you are and you’ll die of apoplexy before you make 40. I know, I know. The Dwemer are all dead. But look...I've heard rumors of a powerful Dwemer mystic, Radac Stungnthumz, that lived in Bamz-Amschend. He's long gone, but maybe some of his writings still exist. If you can find any of them, I'll see what I can do for you.”

Excellent rendition of the donation of the dagger, I figured that would happen . Now Trey is forced to travel back to a place he wasn't particularly fond of wandering in, hopefully the situation goes a bit better this time.

Trey will need to be more careful with explosives this time around...

Trey's action with the dagger didn't surprise me, the Orc's action with the hammer did. Really, you managed to make me think Trey was going to receive a headache. Congratulations!

Bah, who needs explosives? Oversized fireballs work just fine.

Ahhhh another magnificent update!
My quote for the day:


I so like Trey´s wonderful sense of humor, his cool ways of dealing with whatever comes in his way.....A great inspiration to all us writers and those who haven´t started writing yet!

Yagak’s suggestion that I look for the answer in Radac’s books actually made sense- especially because I had carried every Dwemer text I could find back from Bamz-Amschend. It would be a rare pleasure to find the answer I sought between the covers of a book instead of in a musty ruin filled with creatures that wanted to harm me. With a lightness that had long been absent from my step, I returned to my basement hideaway and pored over all the Dwemer technical manuals I had so carefully hoarded. Besides the book on explosives, I found information on cogs, on pipes, and on general machine maintenance. What I did not find was any mention of weapons or alchemy. Even though I believed I had thoroughly explored Radac’s Forge, perhaps I had missed something. After all, it was a dark and eerie place, and my mission had been to find out about the fabricants. A quick foray in search of the missing book or books should be no problem at all…. Right. The Legion has a famous saying to the effect that, “When the patrol seems to be going exceptionally well, it means you have walked into an ambush.”

Because I expected my return to the Dwemer ruin to be relatively simple, I did not make my usual extensive preparations. I armed myself with the sketches I had made of the passages so that I could go directly to the forge, and also carried the reforged blade with me because I was afraid to leave it lying around. Once I had climbed down the ladder from the Plaza, I was greeted with the assorted clanks, groans, and hisses that inhabited every Dwemer ruin I had ever entered. It seemed normal and natural for Bamz-Amschend, so I did not consider what other sounds all that mechanical racket might conceal. The large entry hall was still empty, save for the bodies of the fabricants and the smashed metal of their opponents. Thus, I made no attempt at stealth or concealment as I opened the door that would take me into the area where the forge rested. The Dwemer dart that thumped into my shield was therefore a very great surprise. I had wondered what mysterious purpose was behind the great Dwemer engines that still ran long after their builders had disappeared. It appeared that at least one answer was to build and repair the guardian machines that patrolled the ruins. I discovered to my chagrin that hallways I had believed safe were once again haunted by mindless constructs which found my living presence objectionable. Without giving a detailed description of every skirmish, suffice it to say I was able to thoroughly test the qualities of my new Dwemer sword before I finally reached the forge. And what I found there was an even greater shock than had been the resurrected centurions.

A phantasmal shape stood in the center of the room, staring abstractedly at the giant, half-completed warrior machine that occupied one corner. Although the figure acknowledged my presence with a brief glance, it made no move to attack. I studied the ghostly presence and realized that it closely resembled the figures depicted in the panels scattered through the ruin. The ears and eyes were definitely elven, but the thick, stiff beard and long robes were unlike anything worn by the elves I knew. Just as I realized that I was looking upon the ghost of a long-dead Dwemer, the specter turned a piercing glare in my direction and grumbled,

“What’re you doing down here? Leave an old spirit to his haunts.”

The fact that he spoke at all was not nearly so surprising as the fact that I could understand him. He spoke in Aldmeris, with some odd inflections, but still quite recognizable. Since he did not seem overtly hostile, I decided that the truth would serve my needs and said,

“I seek the writings of the Dwemer mystic, Radac. I wish to find a way to cause this sword to burn again.”

The specter gave a dusty laugh and replied,

“You want to talk to a Dwemer mystic? Ha! Look, I'm no mystic. Wasn't when I was alive, either. I'm a soldier, kid, plain and simple. Sure, I made weapons for my troops. No secret there. I'm no mystic, though. But you say you want to add fire to that blade?”

This then, was the spirit of Radac himself. Considering that this forge would have held great meaning for him when he lived, that made sense. Gathering my wits, I eagerly repeated my desire to see the blade enchanted with fire. With a shrug, the ghost responded,

“Well, if that's all you want to do...! You don't need a mystic, whelp. I can take care of that for you. We'll need some Pyroil Tar, though. Used to have some around here...but that was a long time ago. You can find it in the lower caves of Norenen-dur, in the Citadel of Myn Dhrur. It's an old ruin far beneath Bamz-Amschend. I swear, no one is happy with a simple blade that cleaves bone...always need the special effects.”

Unsure if I had heard correctly, I queried,

“Myn Dhrur…?”

Radac gestured impatiently and said,

“Deep, deep caves. An old Daedric ruin. Fool Dunmer...worshipping those beasts. I say kill 'em all! Used to be a good spot for all sorts of resources, though. Of course, that was when there were any of us left who needed them! You can find the place through a cave-in at the Passage of the Walker. Take care down there, youngster. No telling what you may run into. You might discover a new way to die. That'd be something, at least. You should be able to find some Pyroil Tar, though. Bring that back to me.”

As it happened, during my search for the Weather Witch, I had already explored the Daedric ruin and been attacked by a fairly powerful Dremora. Among its effects was an ancient bottle containing a peculiar sticky substance that I could not identify. As I did with anything alchemical, I had kept the bottle in the hope that I might be able to divine its properties eventually. Of course, circumstances had prevented that closer study, but the bottle was still taking up space in my pack. After a few minutes of digging, I found it and held it out hesitantly. Radac rubbed his ghostly hands together and chortled,

“Ah...that's the stuff.”

He then took the Pyroil Tar and the sword from me and carefully coated the blade, saying,

“Here, I'll do this. There. There's your sword. Not a bad looking blade, actually. Good luck to you, youngster. Now leave this old dwarf alone. Go!”

As he handed the sword back to me, I could see that it burned with a bright yellow fire. Even though I had completed my task, I was curious about the strange tar and ventured to ask how it had been produced. Apparently, Radac did not have much patience for questions, or perhaps he did not know the answer and was embarrassed to admit it. Whatever the reason, he scowled at me and shouted,

“I've used the tar on the blade, you moron! What do they teach you kids nowadays??? See if you can follow these instructions: Turn around. Place left foot forward. Place right foot forward. Now repeat these steps until you're out of my damn sight!”

With that he floated off to another part of the ruin, leaving me alone in the forge.

So now Trueflame burned again, thanks to Radac’s Dwemer alchemy. And that was all well and good except for one thing- how did I get it to stop burning? Because of the blade’s peculiar shape, I did not have a scabbard that would fit it, and anyway, I wondered if it wouldn’t simply burn through a traditional leather and wood sheath. For the same reason, I didn’t particularly want to just shove the blasted sword in my trousers. This was the sort of thing the adventure stories always conveniently left out. Pursuing Radac to ask for advice did not strike me as likely to be terribly productive, so I would just have to think of something else. On the plus side, I was in a Dwemer forge, which was full of odd bits and pieces of Dwemer metal. After an hour or so, I had put together a makeshift construction from a couple of flat pieces of metal wrapped with strips of leather. It was ugly and also as heavy as Nirn, but it should have good insulating properties- I hoped. I carefully strapped the thing on my back, with the hilt of the sword sticking up over my left shoulder. I had no intention of going into a fight thus encumbered- if I tried to draw the bloody sword from that position I would probably cut off my own fool head. Of course, I wasn’t sure that it would be any great loss if I did. Especially because the next step was to go visit the insane goddess Almalexia and give her the good news that Trueflame had been made anew. I had a gloomy feeling that her response would not bode well for my peace of mind …or my prospects for a long and happy life.

Here Ends Chapter 8

Heh, that Dwemer was so funny! I also loved your problem with sheathing the sword. Hmm, reminds me of what I had planned to do with Forgeheart. Yup, swords with elemental Magicka can be one pain in the behind to store.

Though I also have to admit that the solution to the burning as surprisingly mundane. Won't the tar burn up or something?

The tar is magically everlasting... duh. I can't wait for Chapter 9... but it'll be the last one!

Nice conclusion to chapter 8 Trey. It was a wonderful read. I almost have the feeling chapter 9 might be the last one, as there isn't much left to do. But I guess we'll see...

A worthy ending of an amazing chapter....and what does it do to you? Ah yes it makes you want MORE!!!!

Let´s wait impatiently for the continuation.....oh my.....I want to learn more .....oh yes I do

It is good to see that Trey's pack-rat habits have come in handy and saved him another trip into the Daedric ruins. I particularly enjoyed the character you gave to Radac; I found him quite amusing even though I'm sure he intended no such amusement. I guess after you've been dead for a thousand years you're allowed to be a bit grumpy.

Pah!!...Using the shifting of this thread up to the top as an excuse to praise Chapter 7?!! Foolish man, you go to prisonnn!!...

Fair dues, the ash storm is a bit of a shocker...Espescially having ambled around the blighted Solstheim...I can imagine it was a bit hideous to play through an actual storm of it...

Alamaxeia...Or...Something close to that which my brain refuses to hold on to...Is proper nuts!...So this is how he becomes the Nerevar then?...Oh, right...Fair enough... ...I so want to read the Morrowind plot on Wikipedia, but it's far more fun to go through it all here... ...

This doesn't sound like it's Trey's wife though somehow... ...

Proper excellent story...Loving it hugely...In a retroactive stylee...*Pulls some eighties-esque shapes*...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

Hmm. Well- and remember it has been a LOONG time since I wrote it- and I have slept since then.... If I recall, Trey's attitude toward Alma is (and continues to be) that she is nuttier than a pecan orchard- as well as manipulative. So- regardless of whether she says or even believes him to be Nerevar reborn- Trey mostly chalks that up to her dementia.

Except for occasionally feeling like there is someone else living inside his head- and all the prophecies- and etc.

As to his eventual acceptance of himself as Nerevarine, even with Trueflame- it takes a while longer- and is in the "main story."

And no, Alma is definitely NOT his wife. (Shudders).

Oh- and one more word about Trueflame. Besides the whole "burning all the time problem," the blade itself is in the shape of a scimitar (more or less) with a couple of guards that curve in the opposite direction. Which is why Trey complained about finding a way to sheathe it.

Anyhow- many thanks for reading and remarking upon this one. Your comments have caused me to go back and look at some of the parts again- which has been rather pleasant.

Fair dues...Just got to the bit at the end of the duel with the Redguard and Trey's got the two pieces of Trueflame...

Absolutely loved the duel, the character of Karrod, and Trey's not-quite-sporting-but-I'll-forgive-him levelling of the playingfield...

Proper amazing writing...I'm glad of two things...First, that I decided to finally embark on one of the epics... ...And second, that you're enjoying going back to it also...

Excellent stuff!!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

OOooh!!...Ooooh!!...Almost at the end of this chapter...But time's pressing and all that...Totally shocked that I'd gotten so far through this in the fairly recent-ish past...*Sniff*...Because, of course I remember everything that passed before...Yes...

*Sigh*...

Hey-ho...

Absolutely loved these few updates...Brilliant stuff...Very much looking forward to how the rest pans out...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

Oh...This...



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