It was a measure of my desperation that I would even consider going to Helseth for help. I had come to Mournhold seeking blood and vengeance, and I had found them in full measure. I had damaged the Dark Brotherhood so severely that it would take them years to recover. Of course, even I was not so naïve as to believe that I had finished them- evil has a way of showing up around power and wealth, rather like a noxious weed in a fertile patch of soil. But I still hoped to exact my vengeance on their employer, the man whose help I must now seek, King Hlaalu Helseth. My actions had fueled the madness and plotting of the goddess Almalexia- as a direct result, at least seven people were dead. I could no longer pretend that my need for revenge was the most important thing- I somehow had to save the people of Mournhold from their deity. As I look at those words, they seem pompous, especially coming from a stable boy turned thief, turned adventurer. Who did I think I was, to even contemplate such a thing? The answer was simple- I was the only one who could or would do anything. When nobles speak of “the people,” they rarely have any real idea of what that means. To them, the term means a great, undifferentiated mass of faces that look up at them in admiration- or down at the ground in fear. But each face hides a cipher, an unknown, someone whose hopes and dreams are meaningless to the aristocracy. For me, it was different. When I thought of the people of Mournhold, I envisioned Sunel Hlas and Marena Gilnith and their new-found love; I saw Ra’Tesh, endlessly polishing the bar at the Winged Guar. In other words, I saw individuals, not a crowd of people who were somehow less important than me. And I had forgotten those individuals when I entangled myself in Almalexia’s schemes. That much I could see clearly, that it was my responsibility to repair the damage. But how I was to achieve the task was a great mystery. As far as I was aware, there were no books that detailed the approved method for killing a god- or even for curing one of insanity, for that matter. Regardless, I must do one or the other. In my obsession with vengeance, I had given Almalexia the Mazed Band, had brought the ash storm to the city, had fanned the flames of the goddess’ feverish imaginings to terrible heights. Vengeance must wait on justice. I could not do otherwise.

Lest anyone think that I was driven purely by noble purpose, let me quickly state my other reason for seeking any assistance I could secure- I was frightened and revolted by Almalexia’s apparent plans for me. With Salas Valor safely dead, she was already casting about for a replacement- and she had fixed upon me. The words that I had thought, but dared not say, escaped in a muttered hiss as I left the Temple:

“Your last inconvenient lover is dead, and you think that I am anxious to take his place- with his blood still warm on my hands? You may not be god, but you are no longer human, either.”

As for the idea that she believed me to be the reincarnation of Nerevar- I considered the source. She was insane, manipulative, and power-hungry. She would do anything to maintain her place as a deity. A little thing like defying Temple doctrine regarding the Nerevarine would not bother her in the least. As for somehow “recognizing” me as her long-dead husband: nonsense. She had obviously heard about the machinations that had gotten me sent to Vvardenfell in the first place. With Fedris Hler running her spy network, I was not surprised that the “goddess” had discovered the Empire’s plans to set me up as the prophesied hero of the Ashlanders. But I would not go the way of Salas Valor- I had never believed in Almalexia’s divinity in the first place. So it was that I found myself turning to my despised enemy for help- turning to someone who had tried repeatedly to have me killed.

When I entered the Throne Room, Helseth seemed to be in a rare good humor, with a ghost of a smile stretching his normally closed countenance. I wondered briefly how he could be happy with an ash storm raging outside, but dismissed the thought as of no consequence in the current circumstances. When he acknowledged my presence, I gathered my wits and said,

“Sire, I have some rather serious information to report regarding Almalexia…”

Although it pained me to refer to him as “sire,” my background in the stable was useful. After all, “sire” was an equine term, as well as a form of address to a monarch- and I certainly considered Helseth to be a particular portion of a horse’s anatomy. And before I could even begin to explain, the king managed to live up to- or rather, down to- my expectations. Interrupting, he waved an airy hand and said,

“Oh yes, the goddess. I have plans for you regarding the goddess, but first you must prove yourself. You see, Trey, I require all those close to me to be powerful, able to defend me from any adversary. Perhaps you have met my personal bodyguard, Karrod? He is a perfect example: the finest fighter I have met in all my travels, and loyal to me to the death. I met him many years ago, a deaf and dumb child wandering the streets of Wayrest. The boy actually had the audacity to try and rob my stepsister, Elysana. I marveled at his courage, and took him into my employ. When a dog has been beaten, it will lick the hand of one who feeds it even the most meager of scraps. Now he is my most loyal of servants, and one of my most deadly. I wish for you to fight my champion.”

What was it with the leaders of Mournhold? First Almalexia and now Helseth- “Fight my champion to prove yourself.” I felt bad enough about the death of Salas Valor, even though I did not like him or his Temple. But Karrod had never done anything to me and I had no desire to fight him. It was perhaps a measure of the strain I was under that I actually spoke the words that first came to my mind:

“Why should I fight this man?”

Helseth’s brows drew together in a fierce scowl and he rasped,

“Because I am the king and I wish it.”

In a slightly milder tone, he added,

“I have come to know you a bit, Trey. I believe you can be of some use to me. But the plans I have will require someone of great strength or wit. Perhaps both. The time has come for you to prove this to me. You will return here tomorrow, and you will duel Karrod. If you are able to defeat him, we will discuss my plans for you.”

As far as I could see, this was just another way of trying to have me killed, albeit publicly, instead of through assassination. I had no chance of defeating Karrod in anything approaching a fair fight- and there would be no convenient roofs from which to snipe at him in the Throne Room. I would have to think of something else- soon. Every day that the ash storm raged was another day that Mournhold suffered for Almalexia’s pride- and my foolishness.

Hoo-ray, another chapter! And brilliant at that.

Hail Trey!!

The funny thing with Helseth was that I imagined Sethyas actually admiring him a bit for the use of his intellect to defeat his enemies.

Then when he said that line: "When a dog has been beaten, it will lick the hand of one who feeds it even the most meager of scraps." That created the the difference between Helseth and Sethyas, though both are killers, Sethyas actually respects people.

It was that line that sealed Helseths fate.

Man now I wish I was writing of my experiences in Mournhold.

See what you've done to me Trey? How dare you be so inspirational!!

Hilarious! I laughed out loud reading that part!

Besides that this beginning of chapter 8 really promises we´re going to follow Trey in one of his hardest encounters. The poor boy rreally feels guilty of bringing pain to the people of Mournhold. The description of Trey´s feeling towards those people is written with such tenderness that it made me almost cry.

And quoting the word of another magnificent writer, Blackie





I can´t but fully agree to that!

Oh, boy. This is getting very interesting. (Yes, it can get more interesting than it already was.)

Hmm, a dart filled with a very potent sleeping poison that makes Karrod seem death for a while? (Long enough to get him out of the city and somewhere safe.) Whatever it is, we know that Trey will come up with some form of a plan.

An excellent beginning to chapter 8, Trey. I hope he does figure out a way to deal with Karrod (I certainly know a way ) He's awfully frightening to fight without that assistance.

I wait eagerly for the next update.

My lack of foresight had finally put me into a corner from which I could find no escape. While flight back to Vvardenfell seemed attractive at first glance, that was no longer a safe choice. It was Helseth’s unwanted attention that had brought me to Mournhold- however misguided his original reasons, I had since then given him a great deal more to consider. The death of Salas Valor had marked me as a dangerous person, however little I might have desired such a reputation. Then there was the fact that the king would eventually send someone else to investigate the Dwemer complex beneath the Plaza- if he had not done so already. No one as paranoid as Helseth could ignore the existence of unknown technology beneath his capital city. And that investigator would soon find the Dwemer weather machine and draw some conclusions from it. A bit of checking with the guards in the Plaza would reveal that a certain familiar Breton had gone into the ruins just before the ash storm started. And, for once, Helseth’s suspicions would be justified- the ash storm had been intended as an attack on him. Far worse from my perspective was the fact that I had drawn the eye of Almalexia. Somehow, I did not think that my life would be either long or pleasant if I spent it dodging the Dark Brotherhood AND Fedris Hler’s spies. Besides all of that, there was the ash storm. Would Almalexia ever allow it to stop- or would she “forget?”

My imagined death in the Throne Room was beginning to look more and more like a vision of the future, rather than a simple hallucination. Somehow, I had to prevent that from happening. In a life-and death situation, I always considered three options: run, talk, or fight- and I preferred to consider them in that order. I had already determined that running was of no use, so perhaps talking would help. Karrod himself never said anything, and I did not believe that he would be susceptible to bribery. But there had to be someone in the city that knew about him- and who would talk to me. I did not believe that Tienius Delitian would have any interest in seeing me win the duel; after all, the Guard Captain had no reason to trust me. Therefore, the best choices were Barenziah and Plitinius Mero- they would have spent enough time around the silent Redguard to know something of his habits. What I was looking for was leverage- something more useful to me than, “He blinks just before he attacks.” A careful description of Karrod’s fighting style might have been of use to a master swordsman- unfortunately, I did not believe that Helseth would be willing to wait the 15 or 20 years it would take me to become one. I knew that I would eventually have to fight him- and that he would hit me. What I needed was something that would help me end the fight quickly, before I made an error that would allow him to kill me.

Barenziah’s assessment of my chances was realistic, although not encouraging:

“He is as fierce a warrior as I have ever seen, and completely loyal to my son. You'll often find him at the Winged Guar, enjoying a Cyrodiilic Brandy. It will be difficult for you to defeat this man in combat, Trey. I wish you luck.”

Her expression left no doubt that she believed that trusting to luck would be my only hope. Given my previous experience with the vagaries of luck, I preferred to count on something a bit more reliable. The Queen Mother had nothing else to offer, so I took my leave. I next sought Plitinius, hoping that his writer’s eye for detail might provide some clue. When I asked about the Redguard, he shook his head and said,

“Best fighter I've ever seen, and I've seen the best in Tamriel. Hell with a sword, deadly with his bare hands. Shrugs off most attacks like they were beestings. A good fellow, though. Doesn't speak, but you can tell by looking in his eyes. Can drink most of the Palace Guards under the table, too! Take care with him, Trey.”

Lovely. The two people most likely to know about Karrod had all but told me to be sure and write my will and make my peace with the gods. I wished I could disagree with them, but I had no illusions about my abilities with a blade, especially in comparison to a professional. Although I knew it would not help, what I really wanted was a drink…. A bolt of lightning seemed to flash behind my eyes- and not from a hangover. Both Barenziah and Plitinius had mentioned that Karrod liked to drink at the Winged Guar- and I happened to be on good terms with the bartender. Possibilities presented themselves- assuming that Ra’Tesh would agree to help. Quick as I could, I crossed the Plaza to Godsreach and the inn. Once there, I found a surprise- Ra’Tesh not only knew Karrod, but was rather fond of him. When I inquired, the Khajiit purred,

“Mmmm...the big Redguard. Ra'Tesh serves the brawny man his brandy almost every night. Ra'Tesh hears you are to duel him tomorrow. Ra'Tesh is sorry he will be losing a new customer.”

This might present an obstacle. If the bartender liked Karrod more than he liked me, I doubted that he would be willing to help me even the odds. Still, I could only try, and so I managed a weak laugh and repeated,

“Losing a customer? What do you mean?”

“Why you, of course! Karrod cannot lose...although you look a bit dangerous to Ra'Tesh. Ra'Tesh would not like to see Karrod disfigured in any way! Ra'Tesh would hate to see that! If you promise not to mar Karrod, Ra'Tesh will help you in the duel. What do you say?”

I gave my promise with haste, adding that I had something in mind that would do Karrod no permanent harm and that would keep either of us from killing the other. The bartender looked suspiciously at the powder I offered him and said,

“Ra’Tesh has no wish to poison his customers, especially not Karrod.”

I explained that the powder was not poison, just a compound that would slow the Redguard down a bit, and cause him to tire more rapidly. The Khajiit smoothed his whiskers and replied,

“Very well, friend Trey. Ra’Tesh trusts you in this. Ra'Tesh will put the powder in Karrod’s drink. He will also make sure that Karrod drinks more than usual. He will be very tired when it comes time for the duel.”

With that accomplished, I moved on to the next phase of my plan. Slowing Karrod down would help, but I needed to do more- I needed to win.

An interesting entry today. I always enjoy getting the opportunity to watch Trey's thoughts and strategies unfold.

Hehe, booze can be a useful weapon in this case for Trey. I wonder what else Trey is going to do to achieve victory? Whatever it is, it'll probably be crafty, just like Trey.

Effective strategy using the liquor to help him out, just like Trey to always think well on his feet.

Now Trey shouldn't forget to check his store of potions before battle. I'm sure he has some sort of fortification around that would help him even the balance even more. Redguards can be plain brutal with a sword. Trey should stay on his guard. Good luck.

Very nice idea with the drinking. I liked the line “Ra’Tesh has no wish to poison his customers, especially not Karrod.” for some reason.

I think I know of a way to beat Karrod, at least its the way I used. But I dont want too spoil anything like I did last time.

Suffice to say, there are things in Mournhold that you can throw,......

Doctoring Karrod’s drink was not something I was proud of. The tactic struck me as being painfully close to the sort of thing Helseth might do. It was a lesson that others have learned- if you fight long enough, you begin to resemble your enemy. How easy it is to justify your actions with the excuse, “But I am doing this in the service of good!” (Or “the gods,” or “my king,” or “my people.”) But I had no such philosophical insights at the moment- all I could see was that I must win. If I could do so without killing the Redguard it would go a long way toward soothing my conscience. Slowing Karrod down would help, but so would a better sword. An old saying had it that “a poor workman blames his tools”- perhaps I could turn that maxim on its head. A better blade might make the difference- all the difference between life and death. I envied the last group of would-be Dark Brotherhood assassins for their adamantium weapons- the rare metal made wonderfully sharp swords and daggers. But those had been short blades, a type with which I had never trained, even though they were normally the weapon of choice for a thief or assassin. It was that last which had prejudiced me. I preferred to distinguish my law-breaking as a crime against property, rather than a crime against persons. The last thing I wanted to do during one of my “explorations” was get into a fight. A fight would mean that I had made a mistake and gotten caught. And I did not have the temperament to be an assassin- I did not like taking orders in the first place and I would want to know why a given person “deserved” to die- and who said so. On the other hand, when I did have to fight, I preferred the weight and length of a long blade- especially the length. Those extra inches of steel meant I could stay as far away from my opponent as possible- somewhere in the next county would have been ideal.

All the talk of re-forging Trueflame made me wonder if I might not be able to find someone to make me a better longsword. Bols Indalen had provided me a list of prices for adamantium, ebony, and glass armor- perhaps he could also make weapons- or knew someone who would. During my wandering in Vvardenfell, I had collected a number of bits of raw ebony. I had not really done so with any purpose in mind- the material simply had a pleasant look and weight- plus the fact that it was illegal to possess. Every time I looked at my collection, it was as if I was throwing a metaphorical rock at the Emperor. I would have liked a glass longsword even better, but raw glass was extremely difficult to find. Ebony would have to serve, so I collected the pieces of ore and went to the Craftsmen’s Hall to see about getting them made into a sword.

When I explained my need to Bols Indalen, he pointed to the Orc who was working at the forge.

“Yagak gro-Gluk is the best weapon smith around. He can make anything you want- for a price.”

I turned to the Orc craftsman, who acknowledged me with a surly grunt. Although he had probably heard my conversation with Bols, I had to go through the whole thing again. When I finished, he barked a laugh and shook his head,

“So- what do you think, puny Breton? Take lumps of ore, throw them in the fire, bang them with a hammer a couple of times, and ‘hey, presto’- it’s a sword?”
Again he gave a scornful laugh and continued,

“Good sword takes many days. Heat the ore, hammer, fold into a blade, cool the blade and let it rest. Heat again. Hammer some more. Fold some more. Cool again. And so on. Also, have to sing Orc song while making the blade so as to not leave out any steps. Orc song takes a long time to sing. You fight big Redguard tomorrow, right? Yagak can’t make good sword in one day. Stupid Breton.”

With that, he turned back to his work.

At that moment, I nearly gave in to despair. Even with a hangover, even slowed by my alchemical compound, even if he was feeling generous- Karrod would still kill me. Or else I would be condemned to living on the run for however long I had left until Almalexia or Helseth caught up with me. I stared at the purple lumps of ore in my hands, seeking answers in their depths. Salas Valor’s decision to fall on his own sword began to make a great deal of sense- at least he had chosen the time and manner of his death. Something of my thoughts must have showed on my face, for Yagak turned back with a more or less sympathetic look and said,

“Hey, wait a minute. I’m not really that grumpy- it’s just an act I put on to keep from being pestered all the time. Let me see that ebony you brought.”

As he examined the ore, I could not help but notice that his speech and grammar had improved remarkably. After several moments of careful study, he looked up at me and said,

“These are some fine specimens. I can make a good blade out of them. But- it will still take many days.”

As my heart sank, he turned to a wooden chest and pulled out a cloth-wrapped object and continued,

“However, I just happen to have a finished ebony longsword here that the customer never picked up. Probably got eaten by a daedroth…. Anyway, here’s the deal- I’ll trade you this blade for your ebony ore plus 10000 septims.”

It was an attractive offer- or would have been if I had the cash. Normally, such a sword would cost over 20000, so the Orc was giving me a fifty percent discount. What it meant was that he was willing to haggle- and I would be more than happy to accommodate him. Without even bothering to uncover the blade, I gave the bundle a contemptuous flick and snorted,

“Oh, that’s generous! Here I went into dark places under the ground, fought smugglers and undead and the gods know what else for that ebony, and now you will be so kind as to take it off my hands for a blade the customer rejected- AND 10000 drakes. How about this- I keep my ebony, give you 3000, and don’t tell anybody where I got the sword so you won’t be embarrassed?”

Yagak puffed up at my insults about his workmanship, but I could tell from the gleam in his eye that he was actually enjoying it. Bols Indalen quietly brought a couple of stools and some mugs of matze- he could tell this was going to take a while. And so it did. At last, after we had traded mortal insults, each threatened to leave, apologized, blustered, and cajoled, I had an inspiration.

“Yagak,” I said, “you look like a sporting ma-, um, Orc. So how about a wager? You give me the sword to use tomorrow against Karrod. If he kills me, you get all of my possessions. But if I win, I get to keep the sword. I will go ahead and give you the ebony ore right now, no strings attached. You can’t lose. If I die, you get the sword back. If I win, you will be the weapon smith who forged the blade that defeated Karrod.”

Yagak let go a laugh that sounded like rocks rattling down a mine shaft. He grabbed my hand and pumped it fiercely, saying,

“I like your style! It’s a deal!”

Then he turned and took the cloth covering from the sword. All this time, I had been negotiating over something that I had not even seen. And it was just as well- for the sword was the sort of thing that dreams are made of. Looking into the black blade was like staring into the depths of a starless night sky- it seemed to go on forever. The light actually appeared to bend as it passed the edge. The hilt and cross-guard were worked from adamantium, but seemed to flow directly from the blade itself. There was no engraving or adornment, save for a single piece of polished ebony in the pommel. It was the finest example of the sword-maker’s art I had ever seen. Almost unwillingly, I reached out to grasp the hilt and raise the sword to a guard position. As I had known it would be, the weapon was quite heavy. But the balance was so perfect that I almost did not feel the weight. For the first time, I thought that there might be a chance that I would live past the following day.

Drooool.

I love the description of that sword, makes me want one.

Oh hey, first comment!

Heres hoping that Karrod is slow enough for Trey to slap around with the flat of that sword.

I whole-heartenly agree about that description of that sword. For a second there though, I thought Trey was going to attempt to forge Trueflame in a day. Ohwell, this ebony sword seems almost equally as impressive.

If only my mercantile skills were as this good as Trey displayed in this update...

Hmm, I love good swords. I'm also jealous of his Mercantile. Now let's see what Karrod can do.

I really enjoyed your "negotiations" with the weapon smith, and your awe-filled description of the ebony blade. You almost made me believe that the sword itself could defeat Karrod. I'm looking forward to seeing what Trey can accomplish with it.

Oh aye.....but not only the sword is wonderfully described.....the whole series of events are ! I read these installments with pleasure, and we know Trey´s gonna make it huh?

Amazing negotiations with the orc displayed in this story and the somewhat mocking personality of Trey is always a good thing to see, shows that his success hasn't really gone to his head. I love the description, such great detail yet the story remains interesting and flows very well from scene to scene.

I'm sure that by now you already know what I think of your work so I'll save your eyes the stress of having to read more comments and just state that you should continue soon, even though I'm sure Trey won't have a problem in the fight with Karrod, I still want to see it.

HI I i just joined the forums yesterday mainly to read the fan fiction , anyways the reason im postings is becuase something doesn't tie in. Treydog, on your first story about treys adventures leading up to the final battle with dagoth ur, in the later chapters trey was looking for a good sword (ie daedric or ebony longsword) and he settled on a daedric katana with frost enchantment if i remember correctly, but he wouldve settled for ebony. but in this story, trey gets a ebony longsword from the orc guy. My point is that since the mournhold events took place before trey was looking for a good sword back in vvanderfell( he hasnt even went into kogoruhn yet) coudn't he concievably used said mournhold ebony longsword for his enchanting purposes instead of raiding a daedric ruin and mugging the golden saint he claimed the D. katana from, (since trey probably would have done everything he could not to go into a daedric ruin and mugging a golden saint for a sword, being a respectable thief and all)

Anyways it may be a good idea to give the orc guy back the sword after the fight with the redguard guy( assuming trey survives, redguards are very hard to beat, just ask my redguard character, i never had to reload becuase of death and my redguard is slower then a blighted mudcrab).

p.s. anyone know where i can find the rest of sinder velvins parodies

Weapon eater, tiny fracture growing bigger when the blades clash, taken by the guards for illegal posession (Yeah, the last one is a joke). There are plenty of reasons why Trey would lose this sword.

No worries- I am aware of the fact that this is Trey's second (or first) "quest for a better blade." I have already planned for why he will not have it when he returns to Vvardenfell. (And why he doesn't get Yagak to make him another one.) All will be revealed in time.

Very nice job Trey, I loved the negotiations with Yagak. Brilliant way of saying it would take a while . I love it, please continue Trey.

A short one today- just enough to whet your appetites (I hope).

With those preliminary preparations done, the most important task left was also the most difficult- I needed to relax. I knew I would not be able to rest in a room at the Winged Guar, not with Karrod just a few feet away. I had heard of professional duelists who could take a meal together quite companionably before going out and trying their best to kill one another- that struck me as most unnatural. Therefore, I retreated to my hidden corner of the Palace basement and my alchemy apparatus. Helseth had rather broadly set the conditions of the duel as “whatever magic or martial means you can command.” And for me, that meant a careful selection of potions to compensate for Karrod’s greater skill, strength, and endurance. Despite my misgivings, the formal nature of this fight did have some advantages. Unlike a chance meeting in a cave somewhere, I could dispense with most of the paraphernalia I usually dragged along. Scrolls, books, repair hammers, and sheaves of extra arrows were all useful for an extended exploration in the wilderness, but then so were ropes, backpacks, and a few changes of undergarments. I did not really think the big Redguard would wait politely while I pounded out a dent in my shield or brewed up a little something to heal my wounds. Therefore, the question was- what did I need on hand before the fight started? Healing potions were a given, as were draughts to restore fatigue. It would also help if I could manage something to boost my strength and speed.

As I weighed out ingredients, I thought long and hard about creating potions to fortify health. There was no question of their effectiveness- the problem was that they were a two-edged sword. A person who dosed himself heavily could sustain tremendous injuries and feel just fine- until the potions wore off and he dropped dead. There was always a price to be paid for any alchemical enhancement. Finally, I decided to mix up a few with a promise to be judicious in their use. Of course, the other thing I had to be careful of was taking too many different potions at once. The interactions could be—unpredictable. Poisoning myself was only one danger. There was also the possibility of more peculiar side-effects- for example seeing a dancing purple guar- who would doubtless sing about how wonderful it would be to get along with one another. That was the sort of thing that could send the calmest person into a murderous rage. Fury and killing frenzies were fine at the proper time and place, but I could not afford impaired judgment against Karrod.

To my surprise, I was able to sleep peacefully on a pile of old sacks in the storage area. The scent of grain reminded me of a time in my past that was not necessarily happier, but that had certainly been less complicated. Perhaps it was that which allowed me to rest or perhaps it was because I had done all that I could to prepare. Though I knew that my life was poised on the edge of a blade, I saw no purpose to be served by pacing and fretting. If I dreamed, I do not recall it- I was roused to wakefulness by the tramp of feet and the ritual calls of the changing guards. It was the morning of what might very well be the last day of my life and I was at peace with myself. My fate rested in my own hands, safe from the machinations of kings or deities.

well.... good luck with Korrod. I liked the memory part, and the deciding what to bring part.... and the potions part.... yeah i think i liked this addition. Please, i can't wait for more.

Ah..intelligent as usual. Trey prepares for the fight with utmost precision, right kinda stuff to bring, no dead-meat...hmmm yeah I´m so convinced that he´ll make it..as usual

Waiting eagerly for more!

Oh let´s give out the old famous:

S.G.M

A nice update. Trey's preparations remind me of some of my own when in Mournhold. I spent a lot of time brewing potions in the basement.

Nice update Trey. This is a perfect example of the calm before the storm. That storm being Karrod!!

I'm sure this duel will be quite interesting to say the least.

Am I the only one who got the "Barney" Joke?

Great Update Trey, and yes, that would send most of us into a furious rage!

I try not to acknowledge the presence of purple dinosaur-like creatures... life is complicated enough without flying into a furious rage. But I noticed.

Anyway... I'm looking forward to the next installment. Of course.

huzzah, another epic battle yay, please hurry trey


lol i think im gonna make a pluggi to add in a dancing purple guar now.

Trey certainly has changed during his time in Mournhold. To be able to calmly prepare for his potentially imminent death is something Trey the thief couldn't have done. I was intrigued by the discussion of potion side effects; it added a nice dose of realism and intrigue. I'm looking forward to seeing how the fight turns out.

Kinda short one here but still quite well done. I like the descriptions of the thoughts Trey is having before battle and the way he'll have to prepare differently than if he were fighting in a cave or in the wilderness. I also liked the mention of potions reacting with eachother and the explanation of the dangers of a fortify health potion as well.

Keep up the good work Trey. I'll be waiting for the next bit.

Still enveloped in that peculiar calm, I gathered the items I had selected the previous night. As I carefully tightened the straps on my armor, I looked regretfully at my quivers of arrows, knowing that they would be of no use to me today. Even if I could have managed a bow in the confines of the Throne Room, I would not. I understood that this was a different sort of fight, one in which style was almost as important as winning. The duel was a “command performance” – my chance to prove my worth to the king. Actually, that was a pretense- this was simply Helseth’s latest ploy to have me killed. I had to not only thwart that scheme, but also do it in a convincing fashion. It was simple- I had to not get killed and make it look easy. When I entered the Throne Room, the king bestowed upon me the look of a cat contemplating an oblivious rodent. Gesturing expansively, he intoned,

“Ahhh...you have come to meet Karrod in battle. Good for you. Karrod is looking a bit under the weather today, but no matter. Perhaps you've heard that Karrod has never been defeated in battle? It's true. Amazing, don't you think? Regardless, this will be a fair fight. You may both use whatever weapons are at your disposal. I wish you both luck. None are to interfere, and you will begin on my command.”

I paid no attention to Helseth’s taunting blather, but focused entirely upon Karrod. If anything, the Redguard warrior looked even larger than I remembered and his blood-shot eyes did nothing to lessen the menace that seemed to surround him like a cloak. Still watching my soon-to-be opponent, I gave a curt nod to acknowledge Helseth’s recitation of the rules. He mercifully ceased his bleating and signaled the other guards, who withdrew to the perimeter of the room, leaving a cleared space in the center. And now it was just Karrod and me. I experienced a brief spate of mixed feelings- on the one hand, I respected the Redguard for his fighting prowess; but on the other hand, I had nothing but contempt for the elf he served. Nevertheless, it was the man himself who mattered, and so I raised my beautifully-worked ebony blade in salute to him. For it was not about kings or plots or intrigue anymore; it was about two men facing each other with swords in their hands- something Helseth would never understand. I still did not want to be there, did not want to fight Karrod, did not want to kill or be killed- and yet, I knew to the very core of my being that this was where I must be. My doubts, my fears, my complaints- I took them all and sealed them away. The place was here and the time was now.

Karrod returned my salute and I got my first good look at his sword. It was clearly of great antiquity and also of Dwemer make. The blade was oddly shaped, as if it had been shattered long ago and reshaped by a competent but unimaginative smith. Still, the edge looked sharp enough to shave ice, and I knew that Dwemer metal was durable and could sustain serious abuse without losing its strength. For long seconds, neither Karrod nor I moved. Then he brought his blade down into a guard position and took a careful step to the right. I mirrored his move, turning to keep my shield toward his blade. The only sounds were the hoarse breathing of the guards and the scuff of our boots on the marble floor. And then, in an explosion of movement, the Redguard charged me. Where before there had been stillness and slow movement, now there was a spinning, leaping demon, a blood-red blur intent on spilling my blood upon the white floor. Almost as frightening as his speed was the utter silence with which he conducted his attack, broken only by an occasional grunt of effort. Thrusts and slashes too numerous to count reached for my head, my legs, my torso, then back again toward my head. I had no time to counter-attack, but could only retreat, using both sword and shield to defend against the deadly flurry. Even though I was successful in blocking the blows, the power behind them nearly numbed my arms to the shoulder. It was hardly credible that a human being could hit so hard and so fast. I knew that I would have to fight back quickly, before my shield shattered from the constant assault.

My counter would have to be careful as well as quick. The usual diversionary tactics, such as a loud shout or a pretended slip, would probably not work and might even get me in deeper trouble. And then it seemed that an alien presence entered my body, as if it were putting on a coat. I seemed to be merely a spectator as my right index finger straightened and pointed at Karrod. Words of ancient magic issued from my lips and a small fireball flashed toward the Redguard’s face. However, a cat-quick strike of his blade jarred my hand and the fiery orb whizzed past his ear, to spray harmlessly against the wall. Although the fireball missed, its near passage did cause Karrod to blink, giving me just enough time to beat aside his sword with my shield and score a gash along his ribs. The wound was not deep, but bled profusely and seemed to drain some of the warrior’s determination with it. Perhaps it had been so long since he had sustained a wound that he had forgotten how to ignore the pain. Or perhaps the long night drinking brandy was beginning to show an effect. Whatever the reason, Karrod’s quick movements slowed a bit, and mine seemed to speed up. I worked a dangerous strategy- darting in to send a probing stab or slash and then hastily backing out of reach. Though wounded and slowed, he was still as deadly as an avalanche, and I took my life in my hands every time I came within his reach. I learned the truth of that when a sudden thrust got past my guard and gashed my left thigh. I gulped the healing potion I held in my shield hand before the wound could sap my strength.

The fact that Karrod was unable to follow up what should have been a decisive hit told me all I needed to know and I pressed my own attack with renewed energy. The opening sequence was reversed, as I now forced the Redguard back with blow after blow and he went completely on the defensive. Even so, his skill was so great that I could not end the fight with a single thrust. Instead, I had to nick his arms and legs as he guarded his torso and head. At last, a deeper wound went into his leg and he fell to one knee. Dropping his blade, he gasped,

“Hold! I am beaten! You are the greater warrior, Trey”

Even greater than my surprise that I had survived was the revelation that Karrod was not mute, after all. I nearly dropped my own sword in surprise. In the background, I heard a rumble of astonished voices and Helseth babbling something, but my attention was still upon Karrod. His face was a study, as he looked both stunned and…. Hopeful? There was something odd here, something that I did not fully understand. Something more had just occurred than a duel. In that moment, a bond sprang up between Karrod and I, a feeling that it was destiny that had brought us together, rather than Helseth. Regardless of what he might have believed, the king was just as much a pawn as I. I knelt to put an arm around Karrod’s shoulders and pressed a couple of my healing potions upon him. In truth, he hardly seemed to need them- his wounds appeared almost to heal as I watched. I glanced down at his oddly-formed blade and had a sudden inspiration. Grasping my own sword, I reversed it and presented it to the Redguard fighter. Such a formidable warrior deserved a blade in keeping with his abilities- besides, even though it had probably saved my life, I felt a bit guilty about having Ra’Tesh get him drunk the night before. And so I put the hilt of the ebony blade in his hand and said,

“This blade served me well and I see that yours is damaged. Take this sword as a sign of my respect for you.”

He looked at the sword with wonder and then set it aside. Taking up his own weapon he told me,

“When I was a child, my father gave me this weapon. He told me that as long as I had it, none would defeat me in battle...until the rightful owner came to claim it from me. I know now that you are the one of whom he spoke. I give it to you freely. May it serve you as well as it has served me.”

And as I grasped the hilt of the ancient Dwemer weapon, I thought I heard a voice in my head saying, “Done!”

Wow.

I don't know what to say, except this: I was considering ceasing writing, until I read this. With this update Trey, you have re-inspired me, and reminded me why I started my fan fiction to begin with.

Your simplicity in woven elegantly with complexity into a wonderful tapestry that I can only hope to one day reflect in my works.

Hail, editor-in-chief!

yessss.......another great quote to my collection of Trey-quotes!
I´m so happy for him to have managed Karrod the way he did.....must admit I was a bit worried though! Now I feel like writing again after reading this inspiring update, just hope there will be time for it in the nearest future.

Anyway.....way to go Trey!

Wow. Now that was something. A spectacular chapter.

Fantastic. That's all I have to say.


Hmm, I wonder if that ancient Dwemer sword is actually Nerevar's. I mean, Nerevar was good friends with the Dwemer king. I wouldn't be surprised if he had a Dwemer sword as a gift of friendship. With Trey being the Nerevarine, this would be some neat symbolism, him wielding Nerevar's blade.

Amazing duel, Trey. I could tell the amount of time you put into writing this update, as it is flawless.

Wonderful work, Trey!

ohhhhh the sword was traded.....i see.....I got another question .....nevermind.....


i like karrod, silent, like me, all I ever talk about is the latest rumors

Thanks for another wonderful installment. I particularly enjoyed the weapon exchange after the duel; it felt very appropriate and was somehow just satisfying to read. I was intrigued by your description of the "bond" formed between Trey and Karrod; I would love to see that develop into a deep and beneficial friendship. Even defeated, Karrod could teach Trey a lot, and it would seem like Trey could use a good friend while navigating the minefield that is Mournhold politics.

Even as Karrod and I were exchanging weapons, Helseth was waving his hands and shrilly proclaiming:

“Enough! I have seen you fight my champion, though I find it hard to imagine how you have succeeded. I did not believe anyone could beat Karrod, but you have shown me otherwise. And he speaks! There are depths to you, Trey, that I will fathom in time.”

A range of expressions crossed the king’s face as he spoke- confusion, calculation, and possibly even fear. As I had intended, my gift of the ebony blade to Karrod had surprised Helseth and confused him. Still, I would have to be careful- the king tended to have a short way with things that confused him, especially if they appeared to be threatening. It was, in fact, a measure of his befuddlement that he had publicly admitted that he expected me to lose, to die at Karrod’s hands. So I was satisfied to make the king wonder- about me and about the allegiance of his champion. When I got a little older, I would realize that it is unwise to tease the animals- particularly those with sharp teeth and claws. But for the moment, I simply drew myself up and faced the king. He regained his composure and spoke in a louder tone, so that all present could hear.

“I'm impressed, Trey. No one has ever defeated Karrod in battle, and I certainly didn't expect you to be the first. You continue to surprise me. You have proven your worth to me, as well as your loyalty. Take this as a token of my faith in our friendship. It was my father's ceremonial dagger, and I place it now in your possession. Do not disgrace his memory, Trey.”

I could not help but think that this presentation of the Dagger of Symmachus was an attempt to save face and to overshadow my exchange with Karrod. Still, even I was not so foolish as to offer a direct, public insult by refusing the gift, so I accepted the blade and listened attentively as Helseth continued, saying,

“ Now, let us discuss my plans for you. As I'm certain you know, Mournhold is one of the seats of power for the Tribunal. The goddess Almalexia resides here in her Temple, surrounded by her High Ordinators. I have no great love for Almalexia, her Ordinators, or the Tribunal of which she is a part. In light of recent events, I believe it is time to gather more information about them. You assisted ably in defending the city during the attack on the Plaza Brindisi Dorom and provided useful information regarding the creatures involved. However, there is more to be learned.”

He paused to ensure that I was listening, then lowered his voice as if concerned about unseen listeners.

“I believe that the only person who might shed more light on this situation is Almalexia herself. All indications are that these creatures must be the constructs of Sotha Sil, and only Almalexia is likely to have information about him. I wish for you to speak to her, learn what she knows about the creatures, and report to me. There is no reason for the goddess to suspect that you and I may be allied. Use this to your advantage. Do not approach me again until you have learned all that you can.”
At last, I had what I needed- a royal sanction to investigate the Temple and the goddess. Still, it would not do to seem too eager, so I schooled my features to stillness and responded with a short nod before taking my leave.

Once I was safely ensconced in my basement hideaway, I examined the two weapons I had acquired- the dagger from Helseth and the strange Dwemer blade that Karrod had received from his father. I tried hard to forget the words Karrod had spoken about the “rightful owner” and even harder to ignore the voice that had chimed in my head when I grasped the hilt of the sword. But what I could not ignore was the fact that Karrod’s weapon fit together perfectly with the piece of Nerevar’s blade Almalexia had given me. I held in my hands two parts of shattered Trueflame.

It's getting a bit hot underneath Helseth's feet, isn't it? I liked the little scene. Slowly, the king is revealing a few cracks in his armour.

As for Trueflame, I wouldn't want to use it myself. If it was up to me, I would either leave it at Nerevar's grave (wherever that is.) or I would reforge it and then leave it at his grave. Sounds like the right thing to do.

O-o....facing Almalexia now he shall.....hmmm....personally I wouldn´t trust that deceitful king, but who knows...

Anyway I shall eagerly wait for the intriguing continuation....though I´m not sure I´d play Tribunal after following this amazing story....really creepy it is!

Excellent update--it's well worth the wait.

Two pieces of the blade... it's like he was destined to forge it or something... but would Trey use it? I'm not sure a self-described thief would like a big, slow, flaming blade--it's just... out of character.

Consistantly good work as always, Trey. Love the exchange between Trey and Helseth.

It'll be interesting to see Trey's thought process to buildinig Trueflame.

With this most recent update it becomes even clearer that Trey needs all the friends he can get. I can't help but think that Helseth's assignment to Trey carries with it all the risks of the previous ones, although perhaps in a less obvious way. After all, spying on a mentally unstable demi-goddess wouldn't be on any list of risk-free activities. I do hope that he has learned enough about politics to tread very carefully.

Wonderful. That pretty much sums it up Trey. But do please keep it up!

Very nice Trey, I loved Trey's thoughts about the blade, well i liked the whole thing for that matter.... anyways, keep up the good work, can't wait to see Trey's meeting with Almalexia.