The funeral was held three days later, atop a grassy hill not far from the Odai Plateau. It seemed as though all of Morrowind had come to mourn and bear witness to her cremation. Duke Dren was there, as were Archmagister Aryon, all the Hlaalu and Redoran councilmen, and every Legion fort commander. There were even some people I did not recognize, presumably having come all the way from the mainland to pay their respects. Lord Vivec himself had come to preside over the proceedings (a fact which surprised even me, seeing how he seldom left his palace). Yet all the company in the world made little difference to me. The love of my life was dead, and I had heard no news with regards to my daughter. No amount of comfort or tears could bring either of them back to me.

In the center of the mass of humanity lay Imsin’s body, surrounded by flowers atop a simple wooden platform. She was clad in full uniform with Hopesfire in hand, lying across her chest. But her face was pale, devoid of the fiery spirit and energy that had seemed to course through her while she lived. She was not as I remembered her at all.

Appropriately, the day was cold, gray, and gloomy. A gentle rain was falling as Vivec approached, carrying a glowing ceremonial torch. He climbed atop the platform and delivered his brief elegy. “Count only the happy hours. A simple lesson, one that I have given before. But one that must not be forgotten when we consider and reflect upon the brief life of Imsin the Dreamer, warrior servant of the Dragon Crown, wife of the Hortator, and mother to his child. Pity that her hours were so few. But what few she had were memorable, and filled with heroics, virtuousness, and most of all love. She now returns to the Dreamsleeve, where kings and queens and peasants sleep and drift; where the cold wombfires purge the soul of memory and forge it anew. So do mortals die, and so are they reborn. It has been so since the foundation of the Mundus, and will be so until its end. You shall never see this woman again. One day, though, the same fate will befall you. Therefore, let us mourn this loss now, and express sorrow openly, that later we may weep no more. The ending of these words is ALMSIVI.”

And with that, Vivec dropped the torch upon the platform. The hungry, flickering flames spread like hot butter over bread, engulfing Imsin’s funeral pyre. The flame burned for hours, as the people there paid their respects, offered words of condolences, and paid homage to their Lord Vivec. In the meantime, I just sat there, staring at the flames, barely acknowledging the presence of the various friends and well-wishers who were there. One by one, they all left, until the fire died out (and only ashes and the still-intact Hopesfire remained), leaving me and Vivec standing alone.

He looked at me. I turned my head away and stared at the ground. For a minute, neither of us spoke a word. Finally, I opened my mouth. “It all seems so cruel, so…unfair. For all my time here, I’ve striven to protect this land from evil. I’ve been constantly struggling against it. And ever since the visions started, I’ve been trying - trying with all my might – to stop it from destroying my life. I have given my best, fighting with every bit of strength that I have to master my destiny and protect the people I care about. But the one thing that meant the most to me…I was powerless to protect.

"My heart, my soul…they are dead and missing. They have been stolen from me…and I cannot even name the thief. Do you know what it is like to feel so powerless, Lord Vivec? To know that you have lost everything…and can do nothing about it?”

“I know the feeling well, Hortator,” he replied. “For five hundred years my power has been slowly draining, and I have watched the country I once ruled over slowly deteriorate and fall to a foe that I, previously omnipotent, could not stop. Then I lost my sister to madness. Believe me, I have witnessed much sorrow over the course of my divine span of existence.”

“Hmm…maybe,” I said, stroking my chin. “But that’s still not enough to answer the other question I have for you. Regardless of how much you may relate to my predicament, you had no reason to come here. It could just as easily have been Archcanon Saryoni or even an Imperial Cult priest delivering that elegy. To be quite frank, I suspect you didn’t come to provide comfort or to mourn my dead wife. So, if you don’t mind me asking, old friend…why are you really here?”

“A fair question. You are as clever and observant as you were in your first incarnation, Lord Nerevar. The truth is, I have come to give you counsel.”

“Counsel? Counsel regarding what?”

“Regarding the path which has been laid at your feet. It has been set before you, and you cannot deny it.”

“NO! I have had ENOUGH of prophecy and fate! I’ve lost enough to them already! They just ruined my life! I’m tired of following rules set for me by some cosmic meddler!”

“Hmm…understandable. However, you’ll soon learn otherwise. What if I were to tell you that I can help you find the one who murdered your wife? And that the help would lead you toward your star-bound fate?”

“Keep talking.”

“Very well. The path you must follow will lead you to investigate a traitor in your midst – someone who has gained your trust as an agent of deceit.”

My brow furrowed in puzzlement. “But who could possibly…?” Suddenly, it dawned on me – the informant who sent me to Shroud Rock in the first place! “But it can’t be…Ri’Darsha?”

Vivec shrugged (a rare fit of expressiveness for him). “If there is no one else more suitable. I have meditated over this for several days and determined that there must be a spy. If it is vengeance you seek, find the Khajit and make him tell you everything he knows.”

I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists. “Believe me…I will.”

Ahh bbq! Wonderful...and I don't mean the fact that Imsin was killed (I use her in my story, but there she's very much alive!), no I mean the way you describe her death and now the funeral.

>Very good work, as Blackie said before "you're a frikkin' poet"

Intriguing. Yet again.

”Nerevar said, ‘I am afraid to become slipshod in my thinking.’
Vivec said, ‘Reach heaven by violence then.’”
- From The Thirty-Six Lessons of Vivec, Sermon Sixteen

Chapter IX

The central market in Sadrith Mora was busy as usual, even as sundown drew near. I watched from a distance as the workers, merchants, and slaves went about their duties. But my gaze was focused on one Khajit in particular – Ri’Darsha. He was doing the usual heavy work that slaves and beastfolk were typically expected to do – lifting and unloading crates and bringing in goods from the docks.

Then, a horn sounded, and all work came to a stop. The slaves finished their tasks, and the shopkeepers packed up their goods. The sun had nearly dipped below the horizon, and the open market was closing.

I watched carefully to see where Ri’Darsha went next. I nearly lost him amid the choked mass of people scattering about. He was headed north, toward Fara’s Hole in the Wall. I pulled the hood of my peasant’s robes over my head and followed him, taking great care to ensure that he did not see me tailing him. I ascended the spiral staircase and slid open the circular door, entering the tavern nearly a minute after he did.

I took a quick look around the room. It was filled with patrons, mostly Dunmer, who were drinking, talking, and making merry (well, they seemed less stoic than usual, at least). Ri’Darsha was sitting at a large table in the corner with a bottle of sujamma in front of him. He appeared to be waiting for someone.

I took a seat at the bar, as close to Ri’Darsha as I could get without getting suspiciously close. I stayed farther away than I might have otherwise, as I had great respect for the Khajit’s powers of observation.

“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked.

“Eh...make it a brandy,” I responded in a low, gruff tone, disguising my voice to avoid recognition.

The bartender handed me my drink. I drank slowly and quietly, waiting patiently and trying to keep a low profile. I attempted to blend in by striking up conversation with some of the more drunken patrons. None of them seemed to have much to say, however, so the conversations tended to be very short ones.

Finally, after nearly an hour of drinking and mingling, I saw four individuals approaching Ri’Darsha’s table out of the corner of my eye – two Dunmer, an Argonian, and an Imperial. They sat down and began talking to each other in hushed voices. I listened intently, but I heard little. I could make out the words “shipment,” “money,” and “boat.”

When their conversation had finished, the four of them left the table. Ri’Darsha sat there for a moment before getting up and leaving the bar. A few seconds later, I got up to follow them.

I looked out at the city streets from the top of the staircase, which the Ring of Azura enabled me to see without torchlight. There I could see four dark figures headed toward the city gate, as a Khajit followed closely behind them. Slowly and stealthily, I took off after them.

The Imperial pushed open the great stone disk that served as the gateway to the Telvanni city, and the rest followed. They were headed toward the docks – there could be no doubt of that. What they were doing there was unclear, but I had a feeling that I would have to move quickly. I crept through the gate just as it was about to swing shut.

The docks were illuminated by dozens of hanging lanterns, so I kept still in the shadows near the gate and watched them approach a large boat on the right side of the pier, near the Elf-Skerring. The people Ri’Darsha had been following climbed up the ramp and onto the boat. Ri’Darsha seemed to half-sneak, half-walk onto it. Then, I saw two of the four strangers get off the boat and stand still on the pier, as if guarding the boat. Suddenly, it dawned on me…Ri’Darsha was trying to escape under cover of night! I couldn’t let that boat leave the docks!

I walked casually down to where the ship was docked. There was only one narrow entrance onto the boat, so stealth was useless here. The Argonian and Argonian saw me and stood, posturing and crossing their arms in an attempt to look as intimidating as possible.

“What are YOU lookin’ at, Nord?” the Imperial snarled.

I decided it would be best to be as honest as possible. “I’m with the Imperial Legion. I’m the commander of this district, and I’d like to climb aboard your boat and look around a bit.”

“Do you have a warrant?” the Argonian asked, a skeptical expression spread across his face.

“Do I need one?”

“You do around these parts, pal,” sneered the Imperial. “This is our ship, and you’ll be playing by OUR rules.”

“You needn’t worry about my intentions, sirs. I’m not planning on arresting anyone. I’d just like to look around, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t give a damn WHO you are or WHAT you plan on doing. We’re NOT letting you on this ship. Now run along, Nord…or you’ll be FLOATING your way back home.”

Acting swiftly, I pulled out my sword. In a single motion, I sliced straight through the Argonian’s neck and brought the tip to the Imperial’s throat, holding it there. The Argonian lay writhing on his back in pain, grabbing his throat as it bled.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, in a tone that was equal parts mocking and threatening. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch that. I believe you said, ‘Go right ahead, sir – we’ll stay out of your way.’”

“G-go right ahead, sir!” the Imperial stammered. “We’ll stay out of your way!”

“Good…now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He shook his head furiously.

And so, with a grim smile, I walked up the ramp and opened the hatch to get below deck.

I peered below deck to get a good look at what was going on there. Ri’Darsha had his back turned to me, and appeared to be examining the contents of a crate of moon sugar. He didn’t seem to notice the hatch opening, so I crawled inside, crept down the steps and announced myself.

“Am I interrupting something, Ri’Darsha?”

“Gah!” The Khajit jumped in surprise, nearly bumping his head on the ceiling. He turned and bared his claws, his body coiled to strike. Then, he noticed who I was. “Lord Grignr…? What are you doing here?”

“I think you know perfectly well why I’m here, Ri’Darsha.”

“Milord?” Ri’Darsha stared at me with a puzzled expression.

“DON’T you play dumb with me!” I smacked him across the face with my clenched fist, sending him flying across the room. I walked slowly toward him as he backed into the corner. “You betrayed my wife and daughter to the Dark Brotherhood!” WHAM! I kicked him in the stomach.
“You tried to have me KILLED! What I want to know is…who paid you to do it?” I grabbed him by the collar and looked him in the eye as he clawed vainly at me. There are many occasions when being tall and burly can be advantageous. This was one of those times.

“Ri’Darsha does not know what you are talking about! Ri’Darsha did not conspire against you!”

“LIAR!” I screamed, smacking him against the wall and lifting him up by the neck. His squirming and scratching grew more frantic and desperate. “You told me to go to Shroud Rock, where I was AMBUSHED by the Dark Brotherhood. You MUST have been in on the assassination! Now tell me who hired you, and I MIGHT let you live!”

“Sh-Sh-Shroud Rock?” Ri’Darsha croaked. “Ri’Darsha – ack! – has not – gahh! – heard of any – koff! – such place! Much less…told…Master Grignr…to…g-go there…”

“Impossible!” I snapped. “It was in your report…delivered with the Imperial Seal no less! You know as well as me that it can’t be duplicated! Quit this pointless charade and give me the name of your employer!”

Just as I was about to deliver another blow, however, I heard the hatch opening overhead. “Hello?” a voice called down. “Is someone down there?”

I turned to see a Dunmer walking down the steps. He glared at me. “Who the hell are you?” His anger turned to puzzlement as he saw Ri’Darsha. “J’Shavir? What are you doing down here? Snooping through our merchandise?” His look quickly shifted back to a hateful grimace. “You’re a spy, aren’t you? I knew it was too early to trust you…” He called back out above deck. “Balam! We’ve got a couple of spies down here!”

I turned to look at Ri’Darsha. He seemed genuinely worried. Could he have been telling the truth?

A second dark elf came down to get a look at us. He looked at Ri’Darsha and shook his head. “You disappoint me, J’Shavirr. I thought we would make great business partners. It seems I was wrong. You have caused the deaths of two of my closest associates. And now, you and your friend are going to have to die.” As he finished his last sentence, he and his associate drew their swords and began to walk toward us.

I quickly drew Trueflame and began to parry and dodge their attacks as best I could. It was a delicate dance of steel and flesh, and I was the better dancer of the three. I was at a disadvantage, however – I was not wearing my armor, and they had the high ground. Slowly, I was being pushed back toward the wall of the storage hold.

“Ri’Darsha!” I cried, sidestepping one of the Dunmer’s swift thrusts. “Help me!”

“How, sera? Ri’Darsha has no weapon!”

“I don’t know! Find something! Anything!”

I saw Ri’Darsha lunge for one of the crates as I continued to do battle with my twin assailants. They were using a very simple but effective alternating strategy against me – when the one on the left went high, the other went low, and vice versa. Frequently, I was finding that the only way to avoid both was to step backward. And I was running out of room fast.

Finally, I was nearly against the wall. I was starting to get desperate. I was standing on my tiptoes, dance shuffling from side to side, spinning around, and flicking my wrists to move my sword fast enough to connect. This form of swordsmanship left no room for error whatsoever. Sooner or later I was going to get sloppy and a blow would get through. And when I had to jump to avoid a well-placed swipe at the knees, I thought that moment had come. I was off-balance, and my torso was vulnerable to attack. The Dunmer on my left raised his sword in preparation for the killing blow…

…only to suddenly go stiff and drop like a felled oak. A trickle of blood flowed down both sides of his face – he had been shot clean through both temples. Further left, I could see Ri’Darsha standing there, wielding a smuggled dwarven crossbow. The other mer instinctively turned his head to get a look at his fallen comrade. I immediately seized the opportunity to strike and sliced his body cleanly in half.

I turned to Ri’Darsha and put my hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, Ri’Darsha. I apologize for ever doubting you, my friend.”

“Apology accepted, Lord Grignr,” Ri’Darsha replied. “Still, Ri’Darsha wonders what Lord Grignr will do to whichever man, mer, or beast he accuses of betrayal in the future. Ri’Darsha hopes that he is more polite to that person.” His voice conveyed quite a bit of resentment.

“Indeed…I’m really sorry about that, as well. I was trying to beat a confession out of you. I…thought you were trying to escape. Though, in retrospect, if you wanted to do that, you would have done it earlier. I...didn’t know you were doing an investigation. Again...I'm sorry.” I paused. “Who WERE those people, anyway?”

“Smugglers, of course. Ri’Darsha suspected they were quite high-ranking Camonna Tong remnants, and was trying to prove it. Word had spread that Lady Imsin had been murdered, and Ri’Darsha was very sad to hear it. Ri’Darsha’s first thought was of the Camonna Tong. So Ri’Darsha has been looking for smugglers close to Orvas Dren’s inner circle.”

“That makes sense. Unfortunately, we can pretty much rule out the Camonna Tong at this point. And Orvas Dren as well. Dren doesn’t have the resources or the guts to pull it off. His empire is crumbling, and he’s smart enough to know that I would kill him if he tried anything.”

“Ah, so he has nothing to lose, then?”

“True. But Dren is far too much of a narcissist and a coward to trade his own life and comforts for petty revenge. And then there’s the matter of the Imperial Seal. He may be the duke’s brother, but that’s not notable enough of a position to give him authority to use the Seal in his own correspondence. The Seal is a mark of high Imperial authority, and I can’t think of any major government officials who would want me dead, except for maybe…” My voice trailed off as it finally hit me. My eyes went wide as I suddenly realized the truth.

He had tried to kill me once before. I thought I had rectified any ill will he had towards me. I had bent over backwards to placate the monarchy…to ensure that I was never bothered again. And now, for reasons unknown, King Helseth had taken my family from me.

There was no question in my mind as to what the right course of action was. I had to go to Mournhold to find out why my family had been murdered...and to kill the man responsible. Even if he WAS the king.

Another post machine??!!

Well, not tonight. I've got a Philosophy paper to finish. I'd think "twist machine" is more like it.

Seriously, though, I've noticed a pattern where I pull off all these end-of-update reveals. It's purely intentional, but I find it somewhat amusing. Just take a look at the story so far:

"Mephala..."
(end chapter)
"The Dark Brotherhood..."
(end chapter)
"Helseth..."
(end chapter)
"METAL GEAR..."



I keed, I keed. I do enjoy being so cruel to you readers out there, though. Hopefully, it piques your interest...makes you squirm a bit.

That game has way too many cut scenes, I swear.

It's sad to see Imsin die, but hopefully vengeance will be had!

The next morning, I left the Gateway Inn behind and prepared to leave. But before I did, I decided to bid farewell to Ri’Darsha. I approached him in the bustling, haphazard streets of Sadrith Mora. He was wheeling a cart of fruit down the street. I caught up with him and began to walk abreast with him.

“Good day, friend,” I said to him.

“Good day, stranger,” he replied in a nonchalant tone as he checked over his shoulder for eavesdroppers. He leaned in close and lowered his voice. “What is it that you wish to talk to Ri’Darsha about?”

“I just wanted to say goodbye…and also to thank you for all you’ve done for me. I just thought that, since this may be the last time we ever see each other, I would show my appreciation in case I don’t make it back.”

“You mustn’t speak that way, milord. You are quite capable of surviving greater peril than this. Ri’Darsha has great confidence that you shall return. And if you were to kill the king, there would surely be many who would be willing to accept you as their leader instead.”

“Maybe…do you really think I could do it?”

“You are Nerevarine, hero of Morrowind. For you, all things are possible.”

“I wish that were true, my friend,” I said. “But sadly, it is not. I cannot undo the past. I cannot get back that which I have lost.” We both remained silent for a moment. “I want to ask you a question, Ri’Darsha…a very personal one.”

“Ri’Darsha is listening.”

“Why did you agree to work for me in the first place?”

“You set Ri’Darsha free. He owes you no less than his service.”

“No…you don’t owe me anything. You never did. I would have freed you whether you were useful to me or not. You could have gone anywhere, done anything, after I freed you. You could have become a miner, a thief, or a paid laborer. You could even have returned to your ancestral homeland of Elswyr. And yet you chose to work for me, when all I did was ask. I did not force you to accept.”

“None of those jobs interest Ri’Darsha. Nor do they pay as well.”

“True…but a life of crime might. I am not the only one with money and power who would be interested in your services. You could have just as easily have taken my money and disappeared without a trace. My grief is such that I might not have noticed or cared. And yet, when my entire world – all that I’ve fought for, all that I’ve cared about – seems to be crumbling around me…the pieces slipping through my fingertips…you remain ever faithful to me. Though I have nothing left to defend…nothing left to fight for. Why are you so loyal? What reason do you have to serve as well as you do?”

Ri’Darsha’s eyes glanced sadly downward toward the ground. “Ri’Darsha has nowhere else to go, milord. Ri’Darsha is alone. When the slavers came to Elswyr, they took his family from him and scattered across the Morrowind province. He does not expect he will see them ever again. Ri’Darsha had almost lost hope…until you came and freed him from his prison. And there, as you stood in front of him, Ri’Darsha saw his future.” He briefly set down the cart and scratched his head. “It is strange…Ri’Darsha feels as though he was destined to follow the Nerevarine. It was a feeling that Ri’Darsha was meant for greatness of some kind…he has felt it all his life. And for some reason – though Ri’Darsha does not know why or how – he knew it led through you. It probably sounds so foolish…”

“No…” I said, stroking my chin in deep thought. “Not at all. In fact…I know exactly what you mean.” I looked Ri’Darsha in the eye. “You are being pushed, pulled…compelled by an invisible and irresistible force. There is a deep and powerful urge within you that compels you to continue…as though you are being pulled forward by your own viscera. It feeds your curiosity, making you anxious to know more. You don’t know what it is, but you will do anything to find out – to know what you were meant for.”

Ri’Darsha nodded in amazement. “Yes, yes…that is what it feels like…”

“Well…it’s good to know I’m not alone. We are kindred spirits, you and I. We have this impulse that drives us to make choices we might not otherwise make. Now, we can choose not to act on it. Some people spend their entire lives ignoring the call. They run from danger and hide from mystery. But it is not in our nature to refuse such a challenge. Instead, we want to face it. We demand to know. It’s why you agreed to work for me. It’s why I’m about to confront a king in his own palace. I know now that you will be loyal to me until the end…and that there is more at stake for me than revenge. I’m glad I talked to you, Ri’Darsha.”

“As am I, milord.”

“Farewell, my friend.”

“Goodbye, Master Grignr.”

I slipped on my signet ring and vanished without a trace.

Very interesting update. It seems that Ri'Darsha and Grignr have come to a greater understanding of each other. I hope this isn't the last we see of Ri'Darsha; I was just starting to really like him.

Yeah, bbq! Excellent updates I have read with great pleasure. You really are getting better and better.

I made my way through the euphoric throng of Ashlanders and toward the ashkhan’s yurt. Raising my hand, I motioned for the crowd to be silent. Then, I rapped gently upon the outer wall to ask permission to enter his abode.

“Come in,” I heard a voice call out from inside. I ducked beneath the low-hanging door and entered.

Sul-Matuul was sitting in his chair with his back facing the door. Neither of us said anything. We savored the glorious silence for a moment before the khan turned and faced me.

"You have passed the Third Trial. Before you lies the Fourth Trial, and the Fifth Trial. I have spoken with Nibani Maesa, and I know these Trials. You wish to be called Urshilaku Nerevarine. But first, would you hear the counsel of Sul-Matuul?"

I shook my head – not in refusal, but in amazement. “I spoke to her…to Peakstar. I spoke with all of them – the spirits of those who came before me and failed. They all seemed to say the same thing. That I am to unite the people of Veloth under one banner. That I am to be their war leader, not only on the battlefield, but in their hearts as well. That it is I, above all others, who is fit and destined to do this. I am a soldier, but…I’m only one man. I am not a demigod. To do this, I am going to have to be not just a warrior, but a diplomat as well. I have no idea of how to even begin going about this task. The weight of an entire nation rests on my shoulders. Of course I will hear your council. I need it now more than ever.”

"Good,” he said. “First, I would give you warning. When you are called 'Nerevarine,' the word must spread, and many must hear. Your enemies will hear, and come seeking your blood. And such friends as you may have among the Great Houses, those who heed the words of the Temple, they may forget their love for you. If you have business with the People of the Houses and Temple, you may wish to conduct that business first, before you are named 'Nerevarine.'”

“My business with them can be considered finished. Let them despise me if they wish. Whatever it is I must do, I intend to see it through. I will continue to push forward until none are left who deny me. All I ask is that you tell me where to push, and how…and I will be the leader you need.”

Chapter X

It had been three days since my confrontation with Ri’Darsha. I had taken that time to prepare my approach to the castle. I had gathered a small group of the best soldiers under my command. I had conspired with officials to keep it under wraps. But I could not do it through mere force of arms alone. I needed a sorcerer’s help.

So I decided to go to an old friend for help: Divayth Fyr. If anyone knew a way I could get an edge over the king, it was him. And so I made the long and arduous journey across the waters of Zafirbel Bay and up the great mushroom tower Tel Fyr. I floated up through the central shaft and landed gently on the top floor.

I entered quietly. He was sitting at his desk, poring over a piece of parchment that appeared to be several centuries old.

“Good day to you, Lord Fyr,” I said. “May I have a word with you?”

Divayth sighed. “More interruptions…who is it this time?” He looked up from his work, his eyes glaring with an obsessive passion that clashed with his weathered face. “Oh…it’s you again. I’m sorry, but I’m rather busy right now. Whatever you want, it’ll have to wait for some other time.”

“I’m afraid it can’t,” I said, reaching into my pack. “I have brought you a gift.” I pulled a copious number of Dwemer books and schematics out of my bag and set them on his desk. “I thought you might find these interesting.”

The old wizard looked over the ancient texts I had given them, briefly perusing their content. “Fascinating…these texts appear to date to the time of Kagrenac himself! Thank you very much for giving me these. I cannot refuse such a generous houseguest. Now, what have you come to talk with me about?”

“Do you know of any practical way to teleport large numbers of people all at once? Say…a couple hundred or so?”

“Hmm…might I ask why you would need to do such a thing, or would I regret asking?”

“Let’s just say that it’s some fairly personal business and leave it at that.”

“Very well. In any case, I don’t think it’s possible. Unless you had some sort of powerful artifact that had that ability to begin with, but I really don’t know of any with that kind of power.”

“Wait…I think I have something that might work, with a bit of tweaking.” I fumbled around in my pockets. “Ah…here it is! Barilzar’s Mazed Band! It’s an odd little artifact that I encountered during the…incident in Mournhold.”

“I’ve heard of it,” Lord Fyr replied. “Might I have a look at it?”

“Yes, certainly.” I handed it to him.

Divayth brought the ring up to his face to get a closer look at it. “Hmm…yes…a very interesting enchantment indeed. I can sense much darkness inside it…like the work of some unnatural force or revenant. Fitting, seeing as how that’s exactly what it is. As for the effects themselves, though…I’m not sure if they can be strengthened at all, I’m afraid.”

“Almalexia seemed to be able to do it.”

“Almalexia? What are you talking about?”

I told him the story of what had happened in Mournhold – the attack of the fabricants, her descent into madness, and the death of Sotha Sil. He just sat there, nodding all the while. And once I had finished, he still remained silent, quietly mulling over what I had just said.

At last, the wizard spoke. “Quite a fantastic tale, Lord Grignr. Rather difficult to believe, actually. But I believe it. And what’s more, I think I have the solution to your problem. I believe Almalexia must have used some of the remnants of her divine essence to imbue the Mazed Band with this power. Once she was killed, the essence and power of the artifact waned. My guess is that if we restore the ring’s connection to the divine, we can regain the power that it lost. If we obtain a substance of a divine nature – say, the blood of a Daedra Lord – it might be possible to recreate that bond, if only for a short while.”

“And how exactly are we going to go about doing that?” I asked.

“Leave that to me. You needn’t worry about it – I have everything I need right here.” He gestured toward an oddly-shaped Daedric axe resting on one of his shelves. It looked for all the world like a sharp-winged bat at the end of a rod. “Meet me here tomorrow. I shall have the Band ready for you then.”

“Thank you, Lord Fyr. You are a good friend.”

And so, I left his central chambers with a great sense of anticipation. My plan was slowly beginning to crystallize. Soon, my loyal troops would be materializing by the hundreds outside the King’s doorstep. Tomorrow I would have justice. Tomorrow, I would take my vengeance.

Awesome. Divayth Fyr plays the Mad Scientist role quite well.

I've got to say I'm glad to be back here on the forums, and one of the main reasons is this story. Keep up the good work, bbq: I really want to see how a showdown with Helseth would work out.

Thanks. I'm just glad my story is entertaining people - especially good writers like you and Blackie (who, along with the guy who wrote this story, inspired me to start this). Rest assured that you'll see the rest of it very soon. I may even get an update in tonight, if I find the time.

Down the streets of Mournhold we marched – down the white marble steps of the Temple and through the courtyard as hundreds of astonished onlookers looked on. It was a terrible and awe-inspiring display – three hundred soldiers marching beneath the banner of the Moon and Star, appearing as if out of nowhere. And behind them, the most terrifying sight of all – a horde of verminous fabricants, each moving in unison, row by row. A few citizens cheered. Most were dead silent. The Ordinators seemed indifferent. They all knew why I had come. And I had not come to negotiate.

We halted briefly before the gate to the palace courtyard. Four men – two to my right and two to my left, broke rank and moved to open the massive bronze doors.

“Hundreds of men…” I heard a familiar voice remark quietly behind me. “…simply walking right up to the King’s front doorstep. Not much for subtlety, are you, sera?”

Almost in spite of myself, I grinned. “Might I remind you, Doren, that you volunteered to lead this column?”

“Yes, I remember. And I am ready to stand and die in your service, before the enemy and before the executioner. And there isn’t a man here who doesn’t feel the same way.”

“I know, Tedril. I know. Let’s hope this plan works.”

Once the gates had been opened, we poured in and lined up in front of the palace, maintaining formation – shieldsmen in front, archers behind, with the mindless fabricants lined up to barricade the gates, their metallic bodies pressed together like a gleaming silvery mass beneath the midday sun.

Helseth’s guards were too few to stop us. We had come without warning – they had no time to prepare. But I knew they weren’t going to let us in if we asked politely. A few of the guards ran back inside, presumably to warn the king about the army standing right outside his palace. The handful of archers on the ramparts drew their bows and notched their arrows, but held their fire, as if expecting that I would not have the courage to fire first. Their naiveté would prove to be their undoing. I raised my hand to signal the archers to ready themselves.

This was it. I was about to break the law – commit treason against the crown, against the Empire. I hesitated only briefly. “Shoot to wound, if possible,” I said, my voice barely loud enough for my men to hear me. Then, I dropped my hand to my side. “FIRE!”

A hail of arrows flew toward their targets – both on the ground and on the balcony. They fired back, and a few of their arrows found their targets. But they were dropping like flies – this was a rout. I imagined that that would change once we got inside unless we moved quickly.

“Center column, FORWARD!” I cried. “Left and right flank, surround the castle! Block all exits! Move, move, move!”

I charged at the head of the column toward the entrance while the other columns moved abreast with us. A lone, disparate guard took up his sword in desperation, aiming for me. I cut him down with a single strike.

Helseth’s guards didn’t even have the time to barricade the front entrance. The way we walked in, it was almost like we had been invited.

“Alright, men, you know the drill. Most of you will be clearing out the palace and causing as much havoc as you can. You’ll do your damndest to make sure there is neither an escape nor an organized counterattack. All except Doren’s platoon. You will come with me. Understood?”

The men all nodded in unison.

“Good. Let’s move out then.”

We split up, and I began to make my way up the stairs.

Bold, if risky. He has certainly already condemned Helseth in his mind, and many innocent guards along with him. I do hope he doesn't come to regret the choice he has made here today.

Well, he'd hardly be able to get what he wanted otherwise. The king's surrounded by guards, after all. He wouldn't give him any straight answers if he weren't forced to. That being said, this is ballsy at best and foolhardy at worst. And Grignr certainly knows it. Crap, I've said too much, I think. I should let the story do the talking.

Very dramatic, but full of vitality. It lives! Keep up the good things.

I'm reading as fast as I can, while still taking the time to savor the excellence.... This story has just been placed on my "Must Read" list.

I especially like the fact that you work within the framework of Morrowind, but deal with the "and what happened then" aftermath.

A joy to read.

Awesome update bbp. Only a nord would try and march an army by teleport. Only a nord.

Of course, if Ulf was doing this he'd probably butcher the entire garrison and then get overexcited and battleaxe Helseth anyway.

Me likey even more....being a "nord" myself I do enjoy reading about them.

Ehhh....More please?

Three dozen men ascended the staircase behind me, marching three by three. To our left, I could hear frantic movement and attempts at preparation from behind the door to the Royal Guard’s quarters. Fortunately, I had prepared for this situation. I focused my mind upon the door lock and used one of the few spells I knew to engage the lock mechanism. It was a fairly feeble enchantment, but it would keep them busy for long enough to get the job done.

I signaled my men to keep moving. The entrance to the throne room was in sight when suddenly, the door opened. Out of it poured about dozen Royal Guards wielding ebony scimitars. Strangely, neither their captain nor their former champion was with them. This was a ploy to stall for time.

Sadly, these guards would have to die. I pulled out my Daedric longbow and strung my arrow. The bare handful of archers I had brought with me followed suit, letting forth a volley upon the advancing enemies. Sometimes, archers could be useful even in close quarters. This was one of those occasions.

The arrows struck their targets, easily penetrating the Royal Guardsmen’s armor. At least half of this token force had already been taken out. Now they were outnumbered six-to-one. The few that remained did not even pause for a moment. They charged head-on into certain death. Two of them seemed to be making a beeline for me.

It was their only option – the only other choice was to be mowed down by arrows. They chose to sacrifice themselves and take out as many of us as they could. It’s what I would have done. I raised my shield and prepared to face them with a mixture of admiration and regret in my heart. Such magnificent valor…

They came straight at me at full speed, paying no heed to their flank or defense. They knew they would be dead in seconds, so they went straight for the killing blow, attempting to take me out and end the threat. One tried for the head, while the other made a lunging downward blow in the direction of my midsection.

CLANG! My shield connected with the first blow. The other hit its target, but was ill-delivered and was absorbed by my heavy armor. Soldiers to my left and right quickly stepped forward and stabbed them in the back. The rest were finished off fairly quickly.

As soon as the battle was over, I made my way to the main chamber door. I tried to turn the handle, but to no avail. The door was locked. As I fumbled around in my pack, I turned to Doren, who was quickly looking over the men that had been wounded.

“How are we on casualties?” I asked him.

“Pretty light. One dead, three walking wounded. More than I’d want, but not enough to slow us down.”

“Good. If they can walk, they can walk alongside us. Here, give them these.” I pulled out three vials and tossed them to Doren.

I then pressed my finger to the keyhole. The blessings of the stars surged through my hand and into the lock mechanism. It opened with a soft click. Once again, the Tower gave me aid when I needed it.

I threw open the door and entered, while my men came pouring in behind me. At least sixteen guards waited inside, standing firmly with swords drawn, determined not to give up an inch of ground. At their head stood two formidable opponents indeed – their captain, Tienius Delitian, wielding a formidable enchanted dai-katana, and their champion, Karrod, standing as large and intimidating as always. No question about it – Helseth had left his best to try to fight us off. Victory was far from guaranteed.

I called back to the rear guard in the room behind me. “Send for reinforcements!”

The guards advanced in a line in an effort to encircle us and neutralize our numbers. We had them outnumbered, but only just. Not everyone could fit into the encirclement, and there was no room for archers. Delitian was walking directly toward me, staring intensely, his nostrils flared.

“This ends HERE!” he snarled.

“Well, there’s something we BOTH can agree on!” I shot back.

Delitian growled and let loose a mighty swing of his massive sword…

Bravo. An exciting update.

Delitian's sword slashed into the soldier next to me, cutting clean through his bonemold armor…and the rest of him as well, losing not a bit of momentum as it did so. Fortunately, I was ready with my shield, leaning toward the blade to absorb the bruising heavy blow. The sound rose far above even the furious clashes of metal against metal that filled the room. It was rivaled only by the fast and desperate duel of Doren and Karrod to my right.

I lunged forward and made my counterattack while Delitian’s blade was still pinned down by my side. But the captain gracefully hopped back and out of the way…mostly. Trueflame scratched through the armor in his gauntlet and damaged his wrist. Small but intense embers engulfed his entire right hand. He released his grip with that hand and howled in pain.

But then, before I could capitalize, he gripped his hand around the hilt once more, his face showing more determination than ever. There was a look of madness in his eyes as he shifted to attack once more. He was operating on pure adrenaline now. Though blood now soaked the hilt of his sword, he continued to come out swinging.

I prepared to block his strike once again, crouching low to better be able to resist the impact. Almost immediately, however, I began to regret it. The captain was angling his strike – it was coming in too high. Instinctively, I recoiled, backing off as much as I could in the instant before the impending impact. The attack missed my jugular by mere fractions of a hairlength.

Suddenly, Tienius lost control of his sword. The blood from his wounded hand had made the hilt slippery and difficult to hold. It slipped from out of his hands and went flying off into the crowd of soldiers. The hilt struck Doren in the small of his back, causing him to stumble…right into Karrod’s protruding sword. I watched as my lieutenant and trusted friend dropped to his knees, his eyes filled with agony, shock, and horror…and then onto his stomach, right beside the massive dai-katana that had brought about his downfall.

“TEDRIL!” I cried. “NOOOOOOO!”

Furious, I swept my blade in an aggressive arc, slicing off the captain’s head and making a motion toward Karrod’s torso. The King’s Champion, however, was prepared. He held fast with his sword and parried my attack. Though I continued my aggressive and forward strikes, he would invariably block and counter with his own.

We continued to trade blows in this fashion for well over half a minute – an eternity in swordfighting. It seemed this duel between us would last longer than our previous one if one of us didn’t act soon.

I remembered what Imsin had taught me, back during my earliest lessons from the master-at-arms. It was a lesson I had heard before, but she taught it so well that it stuck with me through all my travels – like all my memories of her. ”A mighty warrior uses his own strength to overcome the adversary. A wise one uses his adversary’s strength and through it creates weakness.”

Another strike was incoming – aimed for my upper body this time. But rather than deflect it directly, I took a quick step sideways, ducking slightly, with my shield perpendicular to my chest. Almost like a dancer I got myself out of the chief target, as I moved my shield behind the blade, pushing it farther and faster in the direction of the blow.

Karrod stumbled – his stance was now unbalanced; his right flank exposed. I pounced at the opportunity, running him all the way through. He collapsed into a massive, wheezing heap, blood pouring from the wound. The rest of the battle was not going well for the king’s guards, either – to my left and to my right, my men had gained the upper hand. The battle would be over in less than a minute. But the King was nowhere to be found.

I looked down at the fallen Redguard. He was wounded and bleeding heavily, but still alive and conscious – a testament to his great strength. I thought, briefly, about striking him down - killing him in retribution for what had happened to one of the only true friends I had left; one who had fought beside me so many times. Or better yet, leaving him to bleed to death and suffer for what he had done. It would be so easy to do it now...

I knew, though, that it was not the wise nor the morally right course of action. This was a man who could tell me where the King was hiding. And I knew I wouldn't be able to torture it out of him, as tempting as it seemed. However little I knew of him, I knew that he was loyal and honor-bound. He reminded me, in many ways, of Doren - as well as Captain Carius, Percius Mercius and a host of other good and brave fighting men I had befriended. And Imsin...she, too was such a soldier. Too many such men had already died today. I could not let it happen. For in his eyes I saw his soul. And in his soul I saw my own.

I knew the extent to which Karrod would adhere to his promises. But I also knew that he honored those men he respected. And he seemed to respect me. I had to talk to him.

“Karrod,” I said to him. “I know that you do not speak. But you’ve spoken to me. I know you are a good and loyal soldier. I will save your life if you tell me but one more thing – where your King has gone. You can even keep your sword.”

“How…how do you know…that I won’t just – koff! – turn right around and…kill as many of your men as I can?” he croaked.

“Because…” I said, staring deeply into the man’s eyes, “…you’re going to promise me that you won’t. Do you promise, Karrod?”

“You…are an honorable man, Lord Grignr,” he said quietly. “And so am I. I promise…and I will…keep my…w-w…word…” His eyes began to become glazed and unfocused.

I knelt beside him and held out my enchanted shield. “Quickly, grab this! Do it now!”

Karrod clutched desperately to the side of the Ward.

“Focus…!”

He shut his eyes and furrowed his brow. Slowly, the blood flow subsided, and the coughing stopped. He opened his eyes and looked at me.

I gave a silent prayer of thanks to whichever gods were listening. I then proceeded to question him. “Now...there must be a switch somewhere around here that opens an escape route. Where is it?"

“On the bottom side of the throne, below the cushions.”

“Really…” I commented. “How prosaic.”

“It gets the job done…well, it used to, anyway.”

It was a joke, of sorts. I didn't laugh. Neither did he.

“Well...I have...business I need to attend to now. Farewell, my friend.”

“Good bye,” said Karrod. “And…thank you.”

I kept walking, ducking under the throne to flip the switch. But as I did, I couldn't help but think of Tedril Doren - of all the people who had died to help secure my vendetta, and I wondered...was it all worth it?

Good update, different than your usual writing but its good all the same. I will say I have two small gripes though.

During the fight it says that Doren became unbalanced and fell onto Karrod's sword...then the character cries out the wrong name...at least thats how I understood it.

Also, after losing such a close friend the end of this update seems too lighthearted, almost playful actually so I just found it a bit odd. Just my two cents mate, other than that it was written well and flowed smooth all throughout my guess is that you edited this quite a bit to get it how you liked it and missed a few minor details along the way. Am I right?

Well, actually, Tedril is Doren's first name. So there was actually no error there.

And I think that ultimately, I wanted to show that Grignr is still, at this point, capable of some degree of compassion and respect - if only for a very few people. He wants to believe that things like law and honor still exist, at least in some places. Also, I just couldn't bring myself to kill off big, mute, lovable Karrod. Perhaps it's a character flaw on my part.

I took a look at your criticism, though, and I realized that I didn't really provide a reason why Grignr would keep Karrod alive. Apparently, I just felt it was a natural progression of how someone like Grignr would view that sort of soldier. In any case, I decided to edit the update to include that missing explanation in as non-intrusive a way as possible, and convey some self-doubt as well.

Not to worry, there'll be plenty of anger and righteous fury in the next update (whenever that comes - with my schedule, it could be tomorrow, or it could be three weeks from now).

Well I wasn't trying to annoy you mate, just thought I'd leave some feedback to tell you I like it. I don't know how I missed that guy's first name though...

*Goes to re-read*

I know you weren't trying to knock me. I like constructive feedback, even if it has some criticism in it. Hell, your comments actually helped me out in this case. I realized the segment wasn't as complete as it should have been. And in all fairness, Doren's first name was only mentioned a couple times in the first and second chapter.

NOTE: Big update here. I've chosen to split it into two parts for easier reading.


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


I walked, past the throne and over the bloody pile of corpses that were chaotically strewn across the floor, over to a section of stone that had pushed away from the wall. There I stood, for a split second that felt like an eternity, wondering if I ought to proceed. Of the thirty-six men I had brought with me to the throne room, thirteen were now dead. How many more would it be?

In the past, I would have looked to Doren, or even to Imsin for advice. But there was no one now. Any strength I had ever derived from them was gone. And this made me angrier than ever. I was motivated now only by anguish and rage.

I signaled for half my remaining men to follow me as I ducked beneath the entrance. It was a tight corridor, wide enough to accommodate only one man at a time, leading to a dimly torchlit staircase. Oddly, the passageway was bereft of even a single guard to slow us down. We must have caught the King so far off guard that he didn’t have any additional guards to spare from his escorts. We moved single-file, as quickly as possible. We could not let the King escape.

A short jaunt down the narrow staircase revealed…a dead end, except for a wooden hatch on the floor. It seemed the King was headed for the sewers – just as I suspected. Fortunately, I had prepared a surprise for him.

About forty-five seconds of work was enough to take care of the lock, and descend through the hatch. One by one we crawled through, and into yet another passage below. This one was even narrower than the last – so much so that I did not walk down it so much as I shuffled sideways. The collective breath of my men and I heated up the narrow space. I could hear footsteps interrupted by the clanging of swords from outside the hallway. This passageway was literally located inside the walls!

The shufflespace quickly gave way to yet another staircase; this one far longer than the previous one. The steps here were angled, clear-cut, uniform – unworn by the eroding influence of time. They were clearly much younger than the rest of the castle. Helseth must have ordered this escape route himself. In near-darkness, we descended. Well-cut stone gave way to smooth, worn rock. The air began to take on that familiar dank, stale feeling. We were entering the sewers.

A magical illusory stone wall was all that stood between us and the sewers. I quickly discovered its secret and passed straight through it.

And there, standing not fifteen feet in front of me, was King Helseth, crouching in terror before a host of fabricants, who stood in line in front of him, lined side by side, blocking his path. The entire host of bodyguards he had brought with him had been killed, presumably in an effort to break though their ranks.

“Ah…Your Majesty,” I said, mock-bowing to the wretched monarch. “A pleasure to see you.”

“Likewise,” the King replied sarcastically.

I turned back to my men. “Leave us,” I ordered. “Go back to the chamber.”

The men stared at each other for a moment, and then, slowly and reluctantly, turned back to ascend the staircase. Now it was just him and me.

“Well, why don’t we do a bit of catching up? Discuss your motivations…your ambitions…the incredibly short amount of time left in your life. Or better yet…let’s talk about my family, shall we? You know it’s been such a very long time since we’ve spoken…Your Majesty.”

“Not nearly long enough…Lord Nerevar,” he snarled.

“Really? Pity. You’d think we’d be on such good terms, given all the things I’ve done for you. The errands I’ve run, rivals and dissenters I’ve helped you put down…and I asked for nothing in return. Oh, wait. That’s not entirely true. I DID ask you to LEAVE ME ALONE!”

As I said this, I unsheathed my sword. “And you’d THINK that a sensible person such as yourself would realize the importance of KEEPING that promise! What I want to know is…WHY DIDN’T YOU!? WHY did my wife have to die? WHY must you toy with people’s lives? And most importantly, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY DAUGHTER!?”

Helseth glared at me, his eyes conveying an icy fury. “I do not know where your daughter is, nor do I care. I have nothing to say to you, s'wit. I will not answer the inquiries of one who betrays his country. You threaten my throne. You sow discord among the people of Morrowind. You would bring civil war to the doorstep of every citizen loyal to your usurpation.”

“If I sought your throne, Helseth, I would have brought seven thousand men, not three hundred,” I growled. “I seek vengeance – no, more than that. I seek justice upon a king who treats his subjects as expendable assets. And if I have to bring about your death to get it, then I gladly welcome it.”

The king’s nostrils flared – his blood now seemed to be literally boiling, his face twisted in a mixture of anger and thinly masked fear. “Back down, you rash, imprudent fool! For the sake of your worthless life, if nothing else! You are committing treason! Your thoughts, your actions, and your very breath defile the law!”

“To HELL with the law!”

I brought the full fury of Trueflame down upon him. But he was prepared with a sword of his own. Our blades clashed together and the battle began as the thoughtless fabricants looked on.

The King was a better swordsman than I expected. Not as good as I was, but he knew how to use his longsword. More importantly, he did not tire. I knew this would be the case – as long as he wore his signet ring, he was all but unbeatable. I would have to find a way to remove that ring.

Unfortunately, I could not seem to get a good attack in on his wrist. His hand just could not keep still. His wrist seemed to always be at an appropriate angle, bent inward or thrust outward in such a way that it could not be reached. It seemed I would never get a good shot at it…unless I tried something desperate.

(continued from Pt. I on last page)

I had an idea. It was an incredibly risky one – one that could kill me if I didn’t do it exactly right. But I knew there was no other option. The king’s hand would stay still for only one thing – its target.

I eased back, keeping my blade solely on the defensive while the king struck forward. I moved backwards with each stroke, backing myself closer to a corner. Helseth now controlled the pace of this duel…or at least that’s what I wanted him to think.

I shifted subtly inside my armor, creating more separation between the greaves and the cuirass – a weak spot for him to exploit. It wasn’t much – just a few inches of unprotected flesh. But it would be enough for an observant mer such as Helseth. And then, I held my blade still.

The end of Helseth’s blade found its way through the newly created gap and buried itself in my midsection. I gasped in pain, doing my best to overcome the shock. I focused, concentrating through the mental haze on his wrist. Then, through sheer determination and willpower, I lopped off his hand with one fell stroke.

The king screamed in horrified agony. Clutching his stump, he fell to his knees. I did likewise, holding my stomach and gasping for air. With my last reserves of strength, I pulled the royal’s sword from my abdomen, his bloody hand still attached. It clattered to the damp stone floor.

Then, with my vision fading, I focused as hard as I could upon Eleidon’s Ward. It began to work quickly – in mere moments, my viscera had receded back to their proper places, and my wound had sealed itself. Slowly, I brought one knee to my chest, then pushed off the ground and stood to face the nearly prostrated king.

“And now, Your Majesty...” I said with a determined grimace, “…you shall die!”

Helseth looked up at me, still holding his stump, his glowing red eyes filled with terror. “Please, no…please…d-don’t kill me! Y-you’re making a mistake! You’ll start a civil war! I’ll do anything, just don’t-“

I kicked . “You think I haven’t thought ahead!? You think I’m some kind of idiot!? I don’t care a damn for your throne! I’m going to turn myself in, in exchange for my men going off without charges. And then I suspect they’ll hang me for this. And if that’s the case, so be it.”

Helseth stared at me, incredulously. “You mean, you weren’t after the throne?”

“Of course not,” I snapped. “What would I want with the Throne of Morrowind?"

“But...I had reliable information that -“

“From whom? The same source you relied on the first time you tried to kill me?”

“This was different. He had witnesses, testimony, evidence.”

I raised one eyebrow. “Evidence?”

“Pages of it.”

“And who was your informant? Tell me, and I might ease your suffering.”

“No,” he said. “That I shall never tell.” His terrified face turned sterner and more determined.

I paused for a moment. “It’s your man in the Census and Excise Office, isn’t it? Sellus Gravius?”

The monarch’s eyes widened. “Gravius…how did you –“

“I didn’t. I guessed. Who else could have known I was coming to Morrowind? But your confession was quite helpful. Thank you for your cooperation.” I raised my sword, preparing to deliver the killing blow.

“Wait!” Helseth cried. “There’s something you should know about Gravius!”

I ceased the upward motion of my blade. “What? This had better be worth my time.”

“When I got the report…the information was good, but...” His voice trailed out.

“Spit it out, s'wit!”

“It didn't seem like Sellus had wrote it at all.”

“How so?”

"It was in his handwriting, but…there were so many words on there that I’d never seen him use before. Words it made no sense for him to use.”

“Like what?”

“He was talking about your Khajit informant, and he used this word – ‘Nemer.’”

“Nemer?” I had heard the word before. But there was only one person in the world I knew who had ever said it to me in person.

“Yes…I’ve never heard an Imperial use that word before. It’s almost…”

“…as if someone else were writing it?”

“Yes…” he said, nodding weakly. “I almost believe it now."

“Yes…” I said, stroking my chin in deep thought. “For some reason, I think I do, too.” I knew I had no reason to think he wasn’t lying, but there was something nagging inside me – a part of me that knew it to be true. It wanted me to continue searching.

I brought my sword back down to my side. “Well…today is your lucky day, Your Majesty. I think I’ll let you live. On two conditions.”

“Of course!” he choked. "Name them!"

“First, you let me finish whatever further investigation I might conduct on this matter. Second, you pardon all the men who took up arms against you.”

The king hesitated, visibly uneasy with the terms I had presented him with. Then, sighing deeply, he replied, “Very well." Weakly, he reached toward my shield.

“No,” I said, and turned to walk away.

“WAIT!” the king screamed. “Where are you going!? You said you’d spare my life!”

“And so I have,” I replied, and kept walking.

” Boethiah and Azura are the principles of the universal plot, which is begetting, which is creation, and Mephala makes of it an art form.
For by the sword I mean the first night.
For by the word I mean the dead.
There will be a splendor in your name when it is said to be true.
Six are the guardians of Veloth, three before and they are born again, and they will test you until you have the proper tendencies of the hero.
There is a world that is sleeping and you must guard against it.
For by the sword I mean the dual nature.
For by the word I mean animal life.
For by the sword I mean preceded by a sigh.
For by the word I mean preceded by a wolf.”
- From The Thirty-Six Lessons of Vivec, Sermon Six

Chapter XI

I stepped off of the silt strider into the pouring rain, my head shielded by the hood of my peasant’s robe. Dusk was approaching, but the sun was not visible. The heavy rain and darkness suited me well. I did not wish my business to be noticed.

“Twenty-three drakes, f’lah,” the driver said, not recognizing me. I handed him the fare. “You’d better get inside quick,” he said.

"I intend to," I replied.

I trudged down the damp, muddy hill that led into town. The thick swamp air swirled around, chilling, yet light and gentle somehow; carrying with it the pungent smell of moss, salt water, and rotted wood. Leaning into the wind, I crossed over the bridge into the town itself.

There was not a soul outside on the streets, save for a single guardsman who seemed to be standing outside the tradehouse. The street lanterns flickered in the wind and rain, providing wavering, sputtering glimpses of the few plain Imperial buildings that stood at the center of town.

It all seemed so familiar...and yet so strange. So inviting, and yet so harsh. So beautiful, and yet so horrifying. The sights, the smell, the sound of the swamp. I was now back where it all started; where I first stepped off the prison boat and set about my long journey…a journey that had led me right back here. It had started here. Now it may end here.

I walked farther down the lonely main street of the little town. The rain seemed to be getting worse. The mud in some places was reduced to an ankle-deep mire. The lights grew even dimmer, and the night more hostile. The once pleasant air began to grow solid, heavy, and dark. I began to question my decision not to come in armor. Whatever closure I sought here, I would find it in the worst way possible. I should have come more prepared.

I tried to convince myself that I was being paranoid. I had nearly killed the King of Morrowind – I needed to keep a low profile, and marching in wearing full armor and wielding a legendary sword was not the way to do it. And I had come only to speak with Sellus Gravius, whom I suspected to be innocent and cooperative. This was not the time for a show of force.

But I had hidden Trueflame beneath my robes. Clearly I did not have full confidence in a diplomatic approach.

Cautiously, I approached the entrance to the Census and Excise Office. My fingertips touched the iron handle and – BOOM!

A deafening crash seemed to come from out of nowhere. Startled, I jumped back from the door. It took me a few moments to realize that what I had heard had been merely thunder.

I felt fear - a fear as deep as the one I felt when I entered Dagoth Ur's antechamber. I dreaded what I would find behind that door. Some part of me – a part that had lain dormant for a long time – wanted to do something I had never done since my earliest days on Vvardenfell. It wanted me to turn back.

I swallowed deeply and resolved to bury that feeling. Whatever fate lay ahead of me, I had to know. I had come too far and lost too much to give up now. I needed closure – I owed it to myself, to my wife, and to everything and everyone that I had ever cherished. With great trepidation, I brought my hand to the door, opened it, and stepped inside.

There I was greeted by the sight of two dead bodies.

To the left, propped up against a bookshelf in the far corner, lay Sellus Gravius, with his throat slit and his sword still in its scabbard. There was no sign of a struggle – no overturned tables, no trail of blood across the floor. He was killed before he had the chance to fight.

In the center of the room was the body of Orvas Dren. His entrails lay beside him. In his dead hands he was still clutching an ornate Daedric dagger, which he held facing inward. In his mouth was a scroll, protected by a small brass sleeve.

The fireplace was still burning. These two had not been dead for more than an hour.

I felt a numbness inside me as I bent over to pick up the scroll from the dead kingpin’s mouth. I slipped it out of the sleeve, cracked the seal, and began to read.



Grandmaster –

It is for no selfish purpose that I have returned to you. For I come in the name of the Holy Matron (Praised be Her Sacred Name), whose Black Hand now guides me in all things.

For I was powerless, stripped of all I had valued, with no means of retaliation. And She granted me vengeance.

I was without hope; surrounded on all sides by obstacles and those who would deny me. And She showed me how to circumvent them.

It was on my sixty-first day in exile that She revealed herself to me. For eight weeks, I had prayed that I might obtain revenge for being shipped “voluntarily” to this thrice-forsaken wasteland. And She granted my wish – on three conditions:

First, that you would live. Second, that I would die. And finally, that I would serve Her will above all others.

This I agreed to, so boundless was my hatred of you.

I did all that was instructed of me. She showed me the herbs with which I could drug your spies working in the mines that they might sleep long and do little when awake. Her soundless Voice commanded me as I intimidated and blackmailed the chef, who placed them in their food.

She sent me visions of the beleaguered priest in the Imperial Fortress, who hated you as I did. She covered us in Her dark shroud as we raided the commander’s office and stole his Imperial letter mark, keeping us hidden from the watchful eye of the Captain.

My dreams guided everything I wrote. From the false charges, to the documents, to the name and location of that filthy beast you call a spy…all of it, divinely inspired. The Webspinner sent me these dreams, and then made me to put them to parchment in a hand that was not my own. The false report was shipped across the Inner Sea to the Mourning Hold, where the paranoid King was none the wiser. And from there, he did the rest. Then, because of your anger, he led you here to me.

While I know for certain that you believe every word I have said (for I know that She has spoken to you as well), I do not think you truly understand. Do not make the mistake of thinking this to be merely retaliation for the dissolution of a business. I once thought that way. But I now see the error of my ways. Her love and grace have caused me to see the light.

Every action I have taken, every agony I have arranged for you, has been another thread of the Webspinner. I have played my part in her Great Game. Only one task remains for me: to inform you of yours.

As you know, your presence in Morrowind has become a destabilizing factor. With your recent assassination attempt on the King, the threat of civil war grows for every minute you are alive and on this island. If you stay, you and thousands of my countrymen will die.

Normally, this would please my Prince greatly, but She does not wish to see Morrowind in chaos just yet. The time for that will come soon enough. She has a far more important task for you – one that She has instructed me to write down in the following words:

“In the East, the armies of the Dragon Emperor march and conquer all they encounter. Soon, he shall finish his conquest and turn his greedy eyes westward. If you value your people and wish him to be stopped, heed My words.

“Long ago, in Nerevar’s first lifetime, he visited the shores of Akavir. There he and his companions gained notoriety among the Tsaesci, and admiration among the Ka’Po’Tun. The tiger-men granted him sanctuary among their cities in exchange for some of the knowledge he stole from the snake people. It is from a Ka’Po’Tun port that Nerevar and his Tribunal left, under a promise that he one day would return.

“History mutated into legend, and then, into prophecy. It is now said by some that Lord Nerevar shall return to defeat the Tsaesci once and for all. This prophecy is now known only to those who preserve tradition, be it in their hearts or in their minds.

“Use the prophecy and your status as Nerevarine to your advantage, mortal. Gain the trust of the Dragon Emperor and then kill him. Topple the empire he has built. This alone shall please Me. Seek the historian living in the land once known as Ionith. He shall assist you. Do not fail, mortal.”

These are the words of the Webspinner. You have heard Her voice. You have seen Her in motion. You know now what you must do. It would be unwise not to heed Her call.

My duties are complete. I now march boldly into death. By now, the men shadowing me know I have left the island. It would only be a matter of time before they trace this plot back to me. I will not allow you or any of your hirelings the satisfaction of killing me. My time is finished. My role has been played. The thread has been cut.

All Glory to the Dark Matron!

~D



I stood in front of the dying fireplace for a long time, contemplating the words of Orvas Dren.

I did not want to leave. Mephala's story was insane, and no doubt full of falsehoods. If I left for Akavir I would risk death for myself and everyone who came with me. But staying would be even worse. And Helseth’s enemies would no doubt make a martyr of me if I were to commit suicide or turn myself in.

I sighed. There was but one course of action left for me.

I threw the crumpled scroll into the fire and watched it burn.

Epilogue

I am leaving here – defeated, perhaps, for now…though I do not feel as though I have lost. The mortal life I once knew is gone…then again, it was never meant to last in the first place. My wife now waits for me in the halls of Sovngarde. And as for Svetja…I can always hope. Life in Morrowind will continue, with or without my presence. Things will happen as they are meant to.

But do not mistake my acceptance for fatalism. I am not a slave to events, nor to prophecy, nor to the machinations of the et’Ada. My destiny is mine and mine alone to accept or reject as I so choose. I could have refused to leave and stayed to face the fate that awaited me. I could just as easily have never delivered the package to Caius. I could have died – or even killed myself if I wanted. Or I could have killed Helseth where he stood and seized his crown for myself.

I certainly had enough supporters. After all, I was a reincarnated war hero who ruled over Resdaynia in a previous life. I was loved and respected. I commanded thousands of soldiers, and wielded significant political power. Three hundred men proved that they valued their loyalty to me above that to their country.

Most of them valued their lives as well, though. As promised, Helseth allowed them clemency – provided they got on their knees and begged for it. Some refused. The Redoran soldiers, to a man, chose exile instead, following me literally to the edge of Nirn.

And we will likely remain there for a very long time – years, in fact. Some might not return at all. And I suspect that the Webspinner may have set these events in motion that I may die far from home.

But I do not intend to die there. And I feel that her deception carries more than a modicum of truth to it (as all the best lies do). I will see this mission through to the end. And when I am finished, I will sail back across the eastern ocean, back to my homeland, to set right what has gone wrong. I shall topple the Spider King and watch over my people once more.

Morrowind will have changed. How or to what extent I cannot say, but it will change while I am gone. And I fear even more than death the possibility that something terrible shall happen while I am away; that the Black Hand of Mephala has snatched away my people’s greatest protector. In fact, I am becoming increasingly certain every day that calamity will strike Veloth ere I make landfall once again upon her eastern shores. But I do not despair. Change and catastrophe are inevitable – a constant throughout the Mundus. I will have no control over what my country will be like when I get back. But I take comfort in having affected how it will be when I leave it.

But what, exactly, have I left behind? Change – a House restructured, a demon defeated, a new peace established. But also ruin; the detritus and crumbling leftovers of my time here – a people’s faith falling apart at the foundations, the last shreds of my vain hope for a normal existence…and my own legend. The Legend will remain and take root in the collective imagination of Veloth. There it will grow until its vines strangle the last memory of my humanity. That which made me human, that which made me vulnerable, will be lost to time. I shall cease to be a Man and become the Archetype, an amalgamation of stories told around campfires. I leave my homeland a stately bird. I shall return a murder of ravens.

And that is why I also leave behind these memoirs – an account of my last days here, that all may know that I, too, was once human. I was not always a storybook hero. I have dreamed, bled, suffered, and loved. Read it. Learn it. And above all, remember it. I am Grignr Star-Mane, Hero of Red Mountain, Protector of Morrowind. I am mortal, like you. Do not forget me.

THUS ENDS THE SAGA OF THE INTERIM

Bravo! Remarkable. These last two entries are fabulous! The note from Dren, Star-Mane's Epilogue... bloody brilliant!

I do agree with canis here! Wonderful story really! You did a great job BBQ.....maybe you will consider pleasing us with more examples of your talent??

Well, there is this one idea that I have. It's really, really ambitious - possibly the most ambitious story I have ever seriously thought about writing. The structure is a bit like 2920, at least conceptually. I'm not going to promise anything yet (or give anything away about the storyline) - it's probably going to take a big time commitment. For a while I was considering making it an RP, but I had already decided on the characters and direction I wanted, and didn't want to sacrifice anything. Again, not promising anything there. If I can't do it right, I won't be doing it at all.

In the meantime, I've got an idea for a one-shot story - something much more lighthearted. I hope to have that up soon.

An intriguing ending to an interesting story. I'm glad to see that he triumphed (sort of) in the end, and that he chose to spare Helseth's life when he realized that Helseth had also been played. Thanks for sharing this story with us.

A story is worth nothing if there is no audience to tell it to. Thanks for reading.

GEEZ! Writing my planned follow-up to this is going to be even tougher than I imagined. I was hoping the Lore sub-forum at the Bethesda boards might help, but those guys are master obscurantists. It might take a while.

I think I am very slowly getting the hang of things, though. I'm learning a couple things I didn't know or understand before. Just a couple, mind you. It's slow going, but I think I'll manage. Hopefully, I'll be finished before TES V comes out.

I'm posting this HERE because I don't know where else to put it.

Ah, I love the Lore Forum. I'm not terribly active in it anymore (nor am I especially active on the Bethsoft forum in general, nowadays, save for the ESF Artistry thread) but I do lurk around there still, on occasion.

Taking that next step up in writing is difficult. I've got nowhere on my most ambitious project of late, though I think I've managed to talk it up enough now to raise expectations for it... wait... dammit!

Yeah, reading the discussions in the Lore Forum is a lot like looking at your own nose. You can kinda sorta vaguely see it, and you know there's a nose there. It's just obscured in your peripheral vision. And if you stare at it too long, you'll go cross-eyed.