I like Haa-Rei’s observations like wishing for a Hist so he could see the ruin in its glory days. Or his realization that the door opening easily meant it was likely occupied.

Ahhh. . . skulking through a dark and spooky dungeon with a bow and hefty dose of fear. Buffy knows that feeling well. Well enough to realize that this kind of success -


- generally foretells that the troll dung is about to hit the fan blade trap.


Hopefully, his arrows can take down this other bandit before . . . hey, where’s Jotnar when you need him?

Acadian - Yep. "This is going well" is right up there with "It can't get any worse" and "It'll be fine" on the list of things adventurers should never say.


Previously - Our Argonian friend made good progress through the Ayleid ruin of Atatar, but things don't always go as planned...

Chapter 17

I fired as soon as the bandit came into view. I watched my arrow sail through the air, and I watched my arrow bounce harmlessly off her breastplate and skitter away into the darkness.

“Ha! There you are!” She proclaimed, raising a long, curved sword over her head.

In response I drew my own, less curved, Dwarven sword and swore loudly. For the second time in my adventure, I scolded myself for not purchasing a shield. If I tried to parry her weapon I’d be likely to lose a limb anyway.

The speed with which she could move her blade would have been impressive if I wasn’t on the receiving end. I was only just managing to avoid her attacks.

If this keeps up, I’m going to lose something important.

I took a few steps back to give myself some space, and raised my hand to summon Thiazzi. The spell…failed?

“Nice try, mage. Your spells won’t work in here!” The bandit sounded ecstatic as she explained my predicament, and reinforced her point with a wicked feint and jab at my head and left arm.

Being unable to use magic was a terrifying feeling. What was happening?

Pain shot through my arm, she’d managed to nick me just above the elbow. It wasn’t serious, but it hurt like Oblivion. Before I could even cry out, a voice called out from behind me.

“DOWN!” it boomed, and I did as I was told – dropping to the ground like a sack of sweetrolls. A claymore sliced through the air where my head had been moments earlier. The cavalry had arrived.

Now the bandit was on the defensive, as Jötnar launched several heavy attacks in quick succession. His movements were almost impossibly elegant for someone with such heavy armour – a testament to years of training and no small amount of natural talent.

I crawled out of the way and dug into my pack for a bit of cloth to patch up my wound. By the time I was done, the fight was over. The bandit’s armour was scarred and battered, and a dark pool was forming where she lay.

“Can’t beat good Nordic steel,” Jötnar grinned, and offered his hand to help me up. “You alright?”

“Yes, thanks. Argonians heal quickly.” I stretched out my arm experimentally, and winced at the pain. Not quickly enough.

“Looks like you won’t be able to use your bow. I’ll stick close for the rest of the way.” He began to move out immediately. There would be no discussion.

We soon exited onto a long bridge. The room below had various vents on the floor, no doubt for poisonous gases, and was currently inhabited by a large number of skeevers. The bridge itself was no more desirable. Several large blades were dropping onto the bridge every few seconds, before being raised back up by a hidden device. There was no way around, so we’d have to time it right and go through. There was something else though.

“Hold on. Something doesn’t feel right…” I scanned the room for the source of my discomfort.

“You sure it’s not just the blades, or the rats?” Jötnar’s face was all screwed up as he tried to peer through the gloomy surroundings.

“Maybe it’s jus- oh, here we are.” I crouched to get a closer look, and my companion did likewise.

A section of the bridge ahead looked different from the rest. The stones were a slightly different colour, except for those in the middle.

“The stones on the sides are probably loose, so if you deviate from the path the whole thing will collapse. We just need to stick to the darker coloured stone.” I explained, quite proud of myself for figuring it out.

“Well that’s super, but I can’t tell one stone from the other. It’s dark as a troll’s armpit in here and I can’t see like you can.” He waved a meaty hand in front of his face to emphasise his point.

“Oh. Well how about…this.” I looked around and spotted one of the blade traps, which had been discarded on the side of the bridge. It was almost exactly the same length and width as the central stone path. Jötnar heaved it over to the correct area, and I watched from the sidelines.

Once in place, he scratched a Nordic rune onto it to get Sjöfn and Olorin’s attention. Then we ever so slowly made our way across the rest of the bridge.

As it turns out, the blade traps were incredibly easy to navigate. Most likely acting as a distraction for the ‘collapsing bridge’ trick. Jötnar simply waited until the blade dropped and held it down so we could both climb over. The dark red stains on the blades indicated that other people had been…less fortunate. A lever on the far side put a stop to any further risk of dismemberment.

We also encountered two more bandits, though both were lightly armed and dispatched quickly. Jötnar held back a bit as I quietly inspected the next room.

The room itself was quite small. There was a raised platform in the middle, and the bandits had furnished the whole thing with rugs, wall hangings, and chairs. Dozens of candles gave off a warm glow, but the cold Ayleid stone was still quite prominent. Most bizarre however, was that fact that the room was completely deserted. I waited for a few moments to be sure before calling Jötnar in.

“Hm. Cosy. Nobody home?” He leaned on his sword as he looked around, scanning the room for anything valuable or dangerous. Or both.

“I was expecting their leader to be here. If he’s not, then that would explain why there were so few guards out there.” The bandit’s we’d encountered were most likely a skeleton crew of sorts, to make sure nobody moved in while their comrades were out…on business.

“Well let’s find this stone and get going before anyone comes back.”

After a few minutes of searching, and after I’d used up all but one of my lockpicks on a fancy looking chest, we found what looked to be an Ayleid stone. It was covered in strange markings, and let off a blueish glow.

“That’s the one!” Announced Olorin, who had just arrived. Sjöfn followed close behind, with a look of boredom that could only be the result of a lengthy Ayleid history lesson.

I handed the Altmer the stone, and after he’d inspected it, we headed to the exit.

Our quest had been successful, though this was just the beginning.

I like the way you've used the fact that Azani's only there if you're doing that quest to suit your story. Did you move the ruin's only welkynd to the chest, or is the stone something else?

Gosh, I really do enjoy your writing style. The TES-friendly analogies such as ‘dropped like a bag of sweetrolls’ or ‘darker than a troll’s armpit’ are a delight. And I really like Haa-Rei’s droll and understated sense of humor that liberally spices his storytelling.

Magic won’t work down there – Haa-Rei’s not exaggerating in calling that a terrifying revelation. Such a relief that Jötnar came to the rescue. But, hmmmm, what could be the cause of this curse on magic?

ghastley - We may yet meet Azani in the future, but I haven't quite decided yet As for the stone - all will be revealed...

Acadian - Such praise! Thank you Yep, magical interference is definitely a scary thought, but a big Nord is a good substitute for a Storm Atronach



Previously - The timely intervention of his friend saved Haa Rei from a sticky situation, and after carefully making their way through Atatar they found what they were looking for...


Chapter 18


“So…what is it?” Jötnar asked.

The four of us were huddled around a small table in the common room of The Drunken Dragon Inn. The inn was located alarmingly close to Atatar, and the building itself was a small and simple affair of stone and thatch. The common room was small and dimly lit, with a low ceiling. As one might expect from an inn in the middle of nowhere, there were very few guests. Aside from my companions and I there was only the innkeeper – A cheerful, broad-faced man named Andreas Draconis who referred to everyone as ‘pal’ – and an Imperial Guardsman, taking a break from patrolling the wilds.

“Well, it’s all very exciting,” Olorin answered, “this is an Ayleid device which we scholars call a ‘map stone’.” If he was expecting an excited reaction, he’d be disappointed.

Jötnar was leaning closely towards the faintly glowing stone, which had been placed in the middle of the table, while Sjöfn was gently cleaning the wound on my arm, ignoring my insistence that Argonians heal quicker than humans so we don’t need any treatment. I was sitting on an incredibly uncomfortable wooden bench, but it was the only seat near the window and the morning sunlight was shining warmly on my scales.

“What’s a map stone do?” asked Jötnar again, prodding the faintly glowing stone experimentally.

“A map stone,” began Olorin, snatching the gem away from the Nord, “acts as a map. With the right know-how it should reveal the location of more Ayleid relics!”

“That sounds handy.” I said, wincing slightly as Sjöfn applied some sort of (unnecessary) herb mixture to my arm.

“Yes indeed! Indeed!” Olorin nodded happily, his long grey beard dusting the wooden table.

“How does it work?” asked Sjöfn, applying a small bandage on top of the herbs and smiling to herself at a job well done.

“Magic.” Replied Olorin mysteriously, and began fiddling with the stone.

It turned out that the stone wasn’t a single solid object, but was actually made up of three separate pieces which could be rotated like a child’s puzzle cube. After several frustrating minutes the final piece clicked into place and the stone stopped glowing. At the same moment I felt a rush of energy prickle along my spines.

“What was that?” I almost choked on my tea.

“Ayleid nonsense.” Olorin waved a hand as if he was physically dismissing it. “It dampens magic, to help prevent people from stealing it. That’s how you know it’s important.”

Well that explained a lot. If Ayleid nonsense could stop me from using magic, I’d have to be extra careful in the future. Or just avoid Ayleid ruins. Perhaps both.

We spent the rest of the day relaxing at the Inn. Olorin was muttering various spells at the stone in the hopes of fully activating it, with little (absolutely no) success. Apparently the gentleman who had hired us to retrieve it was something of an expert though, and Olorin was sure he’d be able to figure it out.

The next day, under clear blue skies, we headed back to the Imperial City. As expected, my arm had healed perfectly, and I was going to need it.

Ahh, safe and sound for the moment at the Inn of the Drunken Dragon. Interesting banter about the mysterious map stone that seems capable of cursing Haa-Rei’s magic. Nice ‘Argonian’ touches again, including our lizard’s preference for the window so the sun could warm his scales and that Sjöfn’s healing ministrations were unnecessary.

I enjoyed Jötnar’s journal very much! I love his observations of Haa-Rei and his thought that he wished he could have seen them take down the big orc. Maybe he’ll get to cut someone completely in half soon.

That was a fun trip through Atatar. I love how Olorin is fiddling with the relic before turning it in. The whole exchange around the table with Sjöfn tending Haa-Rei’s wound was delightful. How wonderful to catch up with Haa-Rei sitting with the sun on his scales.

Acadian - The Drunken Dragon is one of those places that I always forget about since it's in such an odd location. It was nice to visit it while I was writing.

Grits - Yep, Jötnar is 100% Nord (for better worse) Glad you enjoyed it.





Previously - After Atatar, our group of adventurers took a quick break at a nearby inn while Olorin explained what it was that they'd found. Now they return to the Imperial City to finish the task...

Chapter 19



It was all quiet in the Imperial City. The taverns had long since closed their doors and the only people still awake were Imperial Guards on patrol, the occasional stray cat, and me. The night air was thick with fog, and the street lamps did little good to light the way. Thankfully my destination was the White-Gold Tower itself, which is about as difficult to miss as a…well, as a really big white tower.

The journey from Atatar to the Imperial City had allowed me plenty of time to write a report for The Blades, mentioning the clearing of bandits at Fort Homestead and the gathering of Argonians in Lleyawiin. It wasn’t as detailed as I’d have liked, and other agents would have written a dozen similar reports already, but you can never have too much information.

My thoughts on the value and/or over-saturation of information came to an abrupt stop when I entered the Imperial Palace District. The feathery spines on my head had begun to tingle – indicating that there was danger nearby. It wasn’t a very specific warning, but I knew enough to heed it and looked around carefully.

The district was made up of two tiers. The lower tier was completely full of graves. The gravestones loomed through the fog and the darkness, as if the spirits themselves were wandering through the grounds. The second tier was a raised walkway which formed a circle around the White-Gold Tower, and it was here that I carefully began to move forward.

As I approached the palace steps, I saw the reason for the earlier warning. An Imperial Palace Guard lay on the ground. His silvery white armour, inlaid with red dragons and gold studs, still gleamed in the moonlight. A vicious looking dagger was hilt-deep in his ribs. The blood pooling around his torso was still warm to the touch, indicating that the attack was recent. I looked around, but even my sharp eyes couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

A shout went up from inside the palace and I immediately drew my bow. Then, heaving on the heavy oak doors, I went to see what was happening.

It was chaos. The bodies of several guardsman lay scattered about the immediate area, and alongside them were other corpses which were dressed in hooded red robes. I nocked an arrow and crept further along the corridor, stepping over more and more bodies as I went. Then, I found them.

A group of Blades warriors were holding the door to the council chambers against a group of attackers in strange black armour. It looked similar to the armour worn by Dremora, warriors of the Daedra, but these attackers were clearly human and I watched as one was cut down by a katana. The black armour hissed and vanished in a puff of sulphurous smoke, leaving behind a red-robed corpse.

I personally dealt with another two, and when the second fell with an arrow in his back, the fighting was done. I stepped out of the shadows and the Blades all levelled their swords at me.

“Talos.” Said one, clearly the leader.

“Plaza.” I replied. A password used by the Blades in emergencies, which this definitely seemed to be.

The Blades visibly relaxed, and most turned and marched towards a set of stairs which lead higher into the tower. The muffled sounds of fighting could be heard from above.

Of the few that remained, the man I identified as their leader stepped forward to greet me. I retrieved my identification badge from my pocket and he nodded in satisfaction.

“Knight-Captain Arturius Guiniverius.” He introduced himself loudly, saluting as he did so.

“Agent Haa-Rei.” I said quietly, though I still saluted. We were more or less the same rank, even though he was part of the warriors and I was a spy. If anyone could tell me what was happening, it was him.

“The palace is under attack from an unknown force. We are currently in the process of assessing the damage and clearing the area.” Almost as if he’d read my mind, he continued. “The Emperor is safe.”

I nodded. I didn’t need to ask about the Emperor’s sons.

“If you want to help, go to the Prison District.” He said quietly. This was as close as he could get to giving me an order, so I nodded and took my leave.

I’ve never been sure why I joined the Blades. They all seem very loyal to the Emperor, but at that moment I wasn’t sure if I cared all that much. I’d never met the man, and I doubt I could even recognise him. The death of his sons still made me sad though, and I also felt concerned for the man himself. For why, I do not know, but I was making my way to the Prison District. What would the assassins hope to find there?

I stopped to assist an Imperial Guard in the Market District, who was doing a good job of attracting every assassin in the area to him. The assassins were shamefully under-trained and under-equipped. Their conjured armour was little more than an illusion, and offered about the same level of protection as their red robes. Their weapons were slightly better, but they too were conjured with a weak conjuration spell and consisted entirely of daggers. My Dwemer sword had a much longer reach and the attackers soon fell.

The guardsman sat himself down on a nearby crate and nodded his thanks while he tried to catch his breath. I nodded back and made haste through the Market and onwards towards the prison. How many of these assassins are there? Where in Oblivion are they coming from?

At last the prison loomed ahead of me. Some guardsmen had barricaded the bridge and let me pass only after I’d shown them my badge. The bodies of several assassins lay a few feet away, feathered liberally with arrows.

The Prison seemed to be all quiet, and the spines on my head had stopped tingling. Nevertheless I readied my bow and crept down the stairs.

Time to see what they’re after.

First time I've seen the action outside the prison at this point in the story, and it all comes on us as unexpectedly as it did to Haa-Rei. Nice touch.

"Where in Oblivion are they coming from?" especially as they're hard to find again in the game. Small numbers in scattered caves, or one or two sleepers at a time (who don't wear the robes). Didn't anyone spot all the red-robed folks flooding into town?

A couple of nits: there's a where that should be a were at the beginning and the lower tier became a tear.

Your description of the foggy city late at night was ominously appropriate and well-done.

I love how Haa-Rei’s tingly head spines give him a sixth sense about impending danger.

What a clever introduction and perspective to familiar events relating to the Blades’ worst night of the Third Era.

ghastley - Yeah I've always found it worrying that an army of assassins managed to wander into the heart of Imperial power without anyone noticing. I decided the Blades would be a bit more...competent in Haa-Rei's tale.

Acadian - I'm glad you liked the fog. I hadn't decided on the weather until I booted the game up for reference and the weather rolled in. As for the head spines, I've spent many a long hour watching Haa-Rei wandering Tamriel, and Argonian physiology is already so interesting I thought I'd add a touch more.




Previously - While walking the streets of the Imperial City, Haa-Rei was alerted to an attack on the Emperor's family. Ever the hero, out Argonian Agent leaped into action...


Chapter 20

The main building of the Imperial Prison looked like a miniature version of the White-Gold Tower. Perhaps a quarter of the size, with thick walls around the base that made it look positively impenetrable. Several red-robed corpses had already been hoisted up onto the walls for all to see.

“I’m not sure if I should be impressed by how quick these gaolers work…” I mumbled to myself.

Knight-Captain what’s-his-name’s directions were almost so vague as to be meaningless, and there didn’t seem to be any immediate danger in this part of the prison. My only choice was to head inside, but not before I grabbed a set of keys from a nearby table. It’s amazing what you can find just lying around.

The prison didn’t cover much ground on the surface, but below ground the areas where the prisoners were located covered a very large space. The largest section was just below ground, and the well-lit and ventilated cells held criminals ranging from small-time thieves and drunkards to those involved in assault, fraud, or lollygagging. The guards had locked this area down for now and responded to my questions with blank stares until one of them helpfully pointed in a general ‘downwards’ direction.

The lower area of the prison was much smaller – perhaps half a dozen cells. The smell was the first thing that hit me. There was no ventilation or plumbing down here, and the only source of light came from a small grate in the wall of the nearest cell. This area of the prison was reserved for the worst criminals – murderers, rapists, traitors. The guards seemed content to leave these prisoners alone.

My attention was drawn to the cell with the grate, the only unoccupied cell. At first glance it was completely ordinary. The stone walls were suitably cold and cheerless, the floor was covered in rushes which looked as if they’d never been replaced, and a set of rusted chains hung from the low ceiling to complete that ‘you’re going to die in here’ look that no prison cell should be without. The only thing that was missing was…a wall.
A large section of the wall had opened, like a door. I opened the cell with the keys I previously…acquired…and went to investigate. The wall/door led to a short tunnel, beyond which I could see the pale white stones of an Ayleid ruin.

“The plot thickens…” I continued my personal commentary as I carefully moved through the tunnel.

I wasn’t all that surprised to find Ayleid stonework under the city, and the idea that there was a secret escape tunnel was more exciting than anything else. My excitement was short-lived however, as I entered the first room.

The room itself was rather small. A large pillar stood in the centre and was flanked by stairs on either side. A wooden door at the far side of the room was the only non-Ayleid piece of architecture. What got my attention, however, was the blood. The stairs were slick with it, and the walls were likewise spattered with viscera. A heap of red-robed corpses lay at the bottom of the stairs, and another corpse lay to one side.

A Blade. Her silver armour was chipped and scarred, and a large wound on her throat dyed her upper torso red. The markings on her shoulder indicated she was a Knight-Captain. Her sword was nowhere to be found, and I assumed that her comrades would have taken it with them. From her fair, slim face I guessed she was a Breton, but I wasn’t sure what Bretons did with their dead so I dragged her back up the stairs as carefully as I could and laid her in a more dignified position. Unable to do anything else, I moved on.

The door was locked, and none of the prison keys would open it. Thankfully some rats had burrowed through a large section of wall off to the right, and someone had killed them before moving off in that direction. I readied my bow before following in their footsteps.

Whoever had killed the rats had had a very interesting time. An entire tunnel system, some Ayleid, some…not, lay beyond the wall. The corpses of giant rats and (what I assumed to be) goblins, were scattered here and there. I also stepped in some bits of foul smelling flesh which could only have come from some sort of undead, but the creature itself was nowhere to be seen as I paused to clean my boot on a bit of rubble.

I was thankful that the person I was following had been so thorough, as it allowed me to think in peace as I walked. The Blades warriors are the elite bodyguard of the Septim family. The only reason one would be in a place like this…

I was so busy thinking that I almost missed the drop. The tunnel I’d been following ended abruptly in a drop of about six feet which led back into the Ayleid ruins - another room full of red-robed corpses (and I was relieved to see that they were the only corpses in here). I quickened my pace as I carried on through the tunnels and rooms, seeing more and more red-robes as I went.

As I exited into the largest room, I saw another silver corpse. The open room branched off in two directions, a gate to the right and a tunnel straight ahead. There was a shocking number of red-robed bodies arrayed in a semi-circle around the tunnel entrance, and it was here that the Blade also lay. Even with his armour on you could tell that he was muscular, and his face was frozen in a gruff expression of defiance. The body had been laid out with care, and he looked rather noble despite the nicks and rents in his armour. Just like the first body, this fellow’s sword was nowhere to be seen.

Then a voice called out from the dark tunnel and I drew my bow, an arrow nocked and ready.

“Talos.”

“Plaza.”

Well then. Time to get some answers.

Don't think I have forgotten about this Argonian's account Hamzick. I'm still around, and I'm still reading and you are doing a great job on it.

This ‘Main Quest Tutorial’ coverage displays a wonderfully creative imagination, while still being told in Haa-Rei’s delightfully interesting and dry style. Great job!

I loved how Haa-Rei noted the upper cells were for lollygaggers and the lower cells for murderers and such.

Very neat seeing this familiar sequence from kind of an ‘aftermath’ perspective. The cell, captain, rats, zombie and poor old Gilroy. Sounds like Haa-Rei is about to meet Baurus.


Nit? Not quite sure what you meant by where you have ‘gaolers’ here:
“I’m not sure if I should be impressed by how quick these gaolers work…” I mumbled to myself.’

It's always fun to see familiar scenes from a different person's viewpoint, and following the party (and prisoner) works well here.

I assume, like Acadian, that it isn't the Emperor's voice? (Although I find gaolers is a perfectly cromulent word).

DE - Good to know you're still around, and even better to hear that you're enjoying it.

Acadian - Thanks! And apologies for the terminology. Gaolers, meaning 'jailers', is a deliciously archaic word that you'll often find in medieval-themed literature.

ghastley - I'm glad the perspective works. I'm trying to work Haa-Rei into the story without it being his story...if that makes sense.



Previously - Haa-Rei made his way through the ruins under the Imperial City, following an unknown group of people. Finally, he's caught up with them...

Chapter 21

A figure emerged out of the gloom, silver armour spattered with blood. A Blade. The two extra swords on his belt indicated that he was the companion of the others I’d seen. He removed his helm, revealing his youthful Redguard face.

"I am Baurus, knight of the Blades. Who are you? Why are you down here?” He placed his helm under one arm, while his other hand gripped the handle of his sword, still sheathed. His face was coated with blood and grime, except for two clean tracks leading from his eyes to his chin. He’d been crying.

“I’m Haa-Rei. Agent. I was sent here to help, but…” I lowered my bow. If he was the last of the guards, then he would have died before abandoning the Emperor. That he was alive was a bad sign.

Baurus lowered his head and stepped to the side, revealing the small room behind him and the body therein.

“The Emperor…is dead.”

I took a few steps forward and bowed my head. I wasn’t ever sure what I thought of the Emperor, but here he lay. He looked old, but strong, dressed in purple robes which looked as expensive as one would expect. Baurus had lain the body in a peaceful pose, with a sword in his hand.

“I’m sorry.” I said after a while. I understood the concept of human emotion enough to know that this sort of thing was often quite difficult for them. For the young Blade this would be even more so.

“So am I,” Baurus said quietly. “but we still have work to do.” By ‘we’ I assumed he meant me, and I turned to face him.

“What would you have me do?” I asked. Truthfully I was a higher rank, and thus should give him orders, but considering the situation (and my dislike for telling people what to do) I thought it best to let him take the lead.

“I have sent a…courier…to Jauffre at Weynon Priory with news of tonight’s events and a high value package. I’d like you to head there and confirm the delivery. It’s important.” Weynon Priory was the home of the Blades’ Grandmaster, Jauffre, but I knew nothing about him. This would be an interesting trip.

“I’ll head there at once. What was the package?”

The young Blade was silent for a while, clearly deciding whether I was trustworthy enough. Finally he spoke:

“The Amulet of Kings. The Emperor trusted the pri- courier with it before he died.”

I stood aghast for a moment. I certainly wasn’t expecting him to say that. Baurus spoke again to snap me out of my momentary lapse of concentration.

“I’ll stay here until help arrives. Take this path through the sewers.” He motioned to an opening in the wall behind him, and I took that as my cue to leave.

The ruins properly gave way to sewers here, but the courier I was following had dealt with any dangers. Several dead rats, two dead goblins, and a mudcrab.

I finally emerged into the cool morning air, and promptly slipped over on a patch of wet grass, landing with a thud in a sitting position. I remained there for a few minutes while I tried to absorb all that had happened.

The Emperor and all of his sons were dead. Of course this was bad news for them, but it was also bad news for the entire civilised world. Unless the Elder Council were a lot more competent than everyone said they were, there would be utter chaos within a matter of days. If a group of assassins can make it into the heart of the Imperial City, then the Empire might not be as strong as they appear, and foreign powers will be certain to take note of this.

What worried me most however was the Amulet of Kings. Without it, there would be no way to relight the dragon fires that keep Oblivion at bay. The Daedra would not hesitate to exploit this opportunity. The spines on my head tingled with uneasiness.

I clambered to my feet to get my bearings. The Imperial City rose up behind me, which meant that the body of water at my feet was Lake Rumare. An Ayleid ruin sat on a small island ahead. If I was reading my map correctly then I was near the prison, facing in a north-easterly direction.

I set off in the direction I hoped to be West, but stopped again when I saw movement ahead. Dropping to a crouch, I crept forward and took cover behind a large boulder. A mudcrab splashed around in the shallow water to my right, a chilly breeze whistled through the trees. Then I saw her. It was Sjöfn.

I quickly debated the pros and cons of talking to her, but the mudcrab decided for me when he skittered over and attempted to chop off my foot with his large claws. His shell made a satisfying crunch as I drove my sword through it.

“Haa-Rei?” Sjöfn appeared in front of me, obviously confused at my sudden and dramatic appearance.

“Oh, hello.” I said with as much surprise as I could muster. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

“Scouting.” She pointed to the ruin across the water. “You?”

“Me? I’m…” think, Haa-Rei, think “…going to Chorrol for my Mages Guild recommendation.”

If the Nord knew I was lying (which she clearly did) she was too polite to pry. Instead she turned and set off in the opposite direction of the ruin, calling over her shoulder as she went:

“I’ll join you, if you don’t mind. I hear Chorrol is gorgeous this time of year.”

I opened and closed my mouth a few times before giving up on talking. At least I’ll have someone to talk to on the way, I suppose.

"The Emperor and all of his sons were dead. Of course this was bad news for them"

Very reminiscent of "1066 and All That" - have you read it?

I love how Baurus almost said prisoner instead of courier. That makes for a nice anchor to the game’s events under the prison. Poor Baurus.

Ahah! Looks like Haa-Rei has a traveling companion to Chorrol. It’ll be interesting to see how he handles both Sjöfn and Jauffre once they get there.


Nit - ‘I set of in the direction I hoped to be West, ...’ - Off vs of?

It’s always heart-wrenching to meet Baurus on what was probably the worst day of his life, at least his life so far. That was a beautifully done scene. I had to smile at Baurus’s “courier.” The choices they had to make under that prison would be hard to explain in calm daylight.

“Oh, hello.” I said with as much surprise as I could muster.

Smooth! I’m delighted that Sjöfn is going to Chorrol with Haa Rei!

ghastley - I haven't, but I looked it up and it sounds like my cup of tea.

Acadian - I haven't quite decided what's going to happen in Chorrol yet. We'll have to wait and see. Having a feisty redheaded Nord around can only spell trouble fun times.

Grits - Yeah, when you look at the events of the sewers from an outside perspective, the whole thing sounds crazy. I wasn't sure whether Sjöfn would be joining us, then it just sort of happened. Haa-Rei is also delighted.




Previously - Haa-Rei met Baurus, a young Blade, and learned that the Emperor had been assassinated. Baurus then sent Haa-Rei on a quest to Weynon Priory, to meet the mysterious Grandmaster Jauffre...

Chapter 22

The island which the Imperial City sits on is quite large. It’s even larger when you have to traverse it on a cold, damp morning after a night of fighting. My original plan was to follow the outer walls of the city until I reached the stables and the bridge. Fortunately I had Sjöfn with me.

Her plan was to head more or less straight to Chorrol, as the crow flies. We followed the northern edge of the Imperial Isle until we came to a wooden bridge, which looked highly unofficial (no Imperial guards or flags in sight) but no doubt shaved an hour or two off my journey. We paused for a moment once we’d crossed the bridge. My legs wobbled slightly with fatigue.

“When was the last time you ate? Or slept?” Sjöfn asked.

“Oh, y’know…I’m fine.” I lied. In truth I was cold, tired, and hungry.

“All the same, I think we should have some breakfast.”

We sat on a low, crumbling wall which overlooked the lake. The rising sun behind us caused the water to shimmer like liquid gold. The main bridge could be seen in the distance, and I was thankful that we didn’t have to walk the extra distance. I added the newly discovered (unofficial) bridge to my map while Sjöfn prepared breakfast.

It was a simple meal of bacon, tomatoes, and mushrooms, but it tasted fantastic. I’ve never been much of a breakfast lizard (as it requires one to wake up before noon), but this particular meal is one of my fondest memories. Sjöfn and I ate in a comfortable silence, and as the sun began to warm my scales I could feel the strength returning to my tired limbs.

After breakfast, we set off again. After a small detour around an old fort, we headed in the direction of Chorrol. If Jötnar and Olorin had been with us we would have had to follow the main road, but with just the two of us we could easily move through the forest.

The Great Forest (for that is what it is called) certainly lives up to its name. The southern edge of the forest borders Skingrad, whilst the northern edge borders Bruma. It is home to a vast array of plants and animals, and I loved it.

By noon the forest had well and truly woken up. Birds sang to each other as they whizzed through the branches, rabbits darted between the bushes in their hunt for food, and every so often a great brown bear could be seen in the distance, no doubt searching for berries (which were more than plentiful). It was pleasantly warm, even though the trees shielded us from the sun with their vast branches.

“Kyn’s breath, this place is wonderful.” Sjöfn was positively beaming, one hand holding the wooden amulet around her neck.

“You worship Kyn?” My question was more of a conversation starter than an actual inquiry.

“Aye. All hunters do. Though most people outside of Skyrim call her ‘Kynareth’.” She emphasised ‘most people’ and turned to me, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

“I spent some time on Solstheim a little while ago. Picked up some bits and pieces of Nord beliefs from the locals.” I explained.

“Solstheim? Now that is a place with traditional Nord beliefs.” She paused before continuing, evidently unsure about asking the next question. “Were you there with the Legion?”

After a brief pause I decided that it would be best to tell the truth:

“I…yes. How did you guess?”

“I didn’t. Jötnar did. He said you use a sword like a Legionnaire.” She explained further before I could ask. “He’s in the Legion too. He’s on leave at the moment though.”

I was shocked. Partially because my secret was out purely based on my combat technique, but mainly because Jötnar was in the Imperial Legion too. The thought of him trying to squeeze his huge arms into a Legion uniform almost made me laugh out loud.

“Is this trip to Chorrol Legion business too?” Sjöfn asked.

“Sort of. I can’t really talk about it.” I immediately wanted to apologise for sounding so rude, but Sjöfn didn’t seem to mind.

“A secret mission? Well that is exciting.” She laughed, then continued “Sorry for prying. I hope you don’t think I was being rude. Just curious.”

“It’s fine, I enjoy talking to you.” She smiled at that, and we continued our journey in silence.

It was late afternoon when we finally emerged from the forest. Our route had saved us several hours of travel, and the walls of Chorrol rose up in front of us. We’d climbed a hill to get here, and when I turned around we were high enough to see over the entire forest, to the Imperial City in the distance. Already the events of the previous evening felt like they’d occurred a week ago.

“I’ll head into town and see about finding an inn. You go and do…whatever it is you’re here to do, and then come find me.” Sjöfn winked and set off before I could either agree or protest.

I looked around and saw some buildings peering out of the trees to the south, which I took to be Weynon Priory, and headed in that direction.

I wasn’t sure what I thought the home of the Blades’ Grandmaster would look like, but this small collection of buildings certainly wasn’t what I had in mind. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like a monastery (which is the point, I know). I assumed the central building housed living quarters, while the small cottages looked to be the homes of the farmers which were out in the fields. The only other buildings were a small stables and a small chapel. The population seemed to consist primarily of sheep, who eyed me suspiciously as I headed toward the main building.

It wasn’t very large, about the size of your average Imperial townhouse, but it still dwarfed the hovels around it. The large wooden doors featured a heavy iron door-knocker, and the sound seemed to echo through the whole building when I knocked.

Time to meet my boss.

Sjöfn is definitely a keeper! She can cook, likes Kyne/Kynareth and makes nice conversation. Haa-Rei merely needs to ensure she can make tea and he is good to go!

How neat that Haa-Rei’s Legion affiliation could be detected by his sword fighting technique.

I loved the rich detail you provided as they traversed the Great Forest – birds, trees, bunnies. . . .

Sjöfn really is cool – how she smoothly goes on to seek an inn, leaving him to his ‘secret mission’.

Looking forward to our Argonian’s meeting with Jauffre.

I’ve never been much of a breakfast lizard (as it requires one to wake up before noon),

Is this because he's an Argonian, or does he consider himself a student?

Still if he persuades Sjöfn to keep him warm, maybe he'll find it easier to get out of bed, ... or not.

Acadian - You're forgetting Sjöfn's greatest asset...she's a bowgirl! Everyone loves bowgirls.

ghastley - The former, though I think we all love a good lie-in.




Previously - Haa-Rei and Sjöfn made their way toward Chorrol, and while his companion went to find an inn, Haa-Rei went to find Jauffre...

Chapter 23

A small panel on the door was opened, and I could see a pair of eyes peering out at me.

“Yes?” They asked.

“I’m here to see…Jauffre.” I hesitated briefly, unsure who else was aware of Jauffre’s true identity. Blowing his cover was not likely to end well for me.

The panel closed and the doors swung open. A black-robed monk, who was the owner of the aforementioned eyes, ushered me inside.

“Upstairs, on the right.”

The monastery, for that is what it was, seemed smaller on the inside than the outer structure would suggest. I was in a large seating area, a set of stairs in front of me branched off to the left and right. Several monks were busy reading and writing in various corners of the room, and they ignored me as I made my way upstairs.

Jauffre’s office was very plain. A pile of desks and chairs occupied one side, while the man himself sat at a desk in the corner. The wall behind me as I entered was a shelf, with a range of stone mugs and plates on display. A door in the corner had been disguised as a cabinet (There was no base on it, like a real cabinet would have), which explained why the building looked smaller. Just how many secret nooks and crannies does this building have?

I approached Jauffre’s desk and stood to attention, my Legion training briefly resurfacing.

“Agent Haa-Rei. Baurus sent me to confirm the delivery of a package. Sir.” I spoke as loudly as I dared. I was suddenly very conscious of eavesdroppers, and internally decided that I’d read too many adventure novels.

“I was hoping he’d come himself, but I suppose you’ll do. You don’t have to whisper either, we’re safe enough in my own home.” He didn’t look up from whatever it was that he was writing, and his voice sounded neither friendly nor unfriendly.

He was old. At least as old as the Emperor, but with a great deal less hair (As is the fashion with the modern monk). He wore an old brown robe, which looked as if it was being held together by ink stains and crumbs. The best way to disguise yourself as a monk is apparently to just become a monk.

“Yes sir.” I was unsure what to say. Do I just leave now? Do I ask for more orders?

“I have a new task for you. The courier you followed here has been sent on a mission of critical importance to the city of Kvatch. You are to follow, and make sure they are successful.” Again, he didn’t look up, but I nodded anyway. “Dismissed.”

As I made my way across the room and down the stairs, I could feel eyes watching me. I didn’t realise I’d been holding my breath until I got outside and released a large sigh.

So that was my boss? He certainly wasn’t what I’d expected. I’d met a high ranking member of the Blades before – a man by the name of Caius Cosades in Morrowind. He had been undercover as a skooma addict while he held together the eastern spy network for the Empire. Jauffre was different, perhaps because he was a warrior rather than a spy, but he had an aura of strength and authority about him. He had also given me a mission, and with that in mind I made my way towards Chorrol to find Sjöfn and plan my journey to Kvatch.


Of the eight major towns in Cyrodiil, Chorrol is my favourite. From the surrounding forests to the town itself, everything is utterly beautiful. This was my first visit, and it certainly wouldn’t be my last.

I paused for a moment when I entered the southern gates and looked around. To my right was the path leading to the castle – its sturdy walls manned by guards in dark blue, bearing the tree of Chorrol on their chests and shields. Ahead of me was a statue of a fallen warrior, in the embrace of a woman - both of whom made an excellent perch for a group of sparrows. The town stretched further in that direction, under the gaze of the mountains. To my left was another street that led to the chapel. The tavern also sat on this street, so I headed that way.

The Oak and Crosier, for that was the taverns name, seemed to be the most popular destination in Chorrol. Fortunately the building was enormous, and looked as though it could accommodate everyone in town with room to spare. As I entered the building I was enveloped in a blanket of warmth. The air was filled with the sound of laughter and conversation, and the scent of wine and wood smoke. News of the Emperor's death was yet to reach the town. I spied Sjöfn sitting in the corner and went to join her.

She was writing in a journal as I approached, a glass of wine resting in one hand while the other held a quill. It wasn’t until I sat down that she became aware of my presence. The look of surprise on her face was almost immediately washed away by a bright smile. Before I could speak she made her announcement:

“We’ve been given a quest!”

Oh dear.

An interesting and brief meeting with the standoffish (sitoffish?) Jauffre as Haa-Rei picks up his next assignment.

Your description of Chorrol was wonderful, from the sparrows on the statue to the smell of wine and smoke in the tavern. And telling Sjöfn about his plans to visit Kvatch is pre-empted, for it seems his traveling partner has found a quest of her own!

We've been given a quest, hopefully it will still be we when the reward is given.

But then, Haa-Rei's been given a quest, which is just duty.

I love how Haa-Rei spotted the secret room door right away. His impression of Jauffre made me grin, from the blunt He was old to the mention of Jauffre’s aura of strength and authority.

What a lovely introduction to the warm and wonderful city of Chorrol just before news of the crisis reaches it. Uh oh, Sjöfn of the bright smile has a quest for them? Dour Jauffre’s job may have to wait!

Acadian - Yep, isn't that just the way of things? You start one quest, then end up finding a dozen more on the way

ghastley - That's a good point. The drawback of working with others is that they always want you to share the loot!

Grits - Yeah I'm sure Jauffre won't mind that we thought a cute Nord's request was more important than his. Besides, it's not like Kvatch is going anywhere, right?



EVERYONE - I couldn't find a good place to stop, so this chapter ended up being twice as long as usual. What sort of length is good for you guys as readers? I'm conscious of things being either too wordy or too brief so all suggestions are welcome.


Previously - After a brief meeting with the grumpy grandmaster, Haa-Rei returned to Chorrol where Sjöfn informed him that she'd found them a quest...

Chapter 24


We set out from Chorrol the next morning, heading south. My Nord companion was practically bouncing with excitement as we moved through the forest.

“So let’s go over it again,” I began, “We’ve been asked to find and rescue a girl, from a village that nobody seems to have heard of.” I was feeling anxious that we had so little to go on.

“Right. The girl is called Dar-Ma, an Argonian. The village is called Hackdirt. Oh, and the girl has a horse with her. Called Blossom.” The lack of information didn’t seem to bother Sjöfn, and I was worried that her seemingly blind optimism would get us into trouble.

Hackdirt lay a few miles South of Chorrol. Our plan was to find this girl, and then go our separate ways – Sjöfn to Chorrol and myself to Kvatch. I was glad that my companion would be heading back, as I had a very distinct bad feeling about the whole situation.

“I think this is it.” Sjöfn whispered excitedly. We’d arrived.

Hackdirt, as the name suggests, is a rather unpleasant place. Years before our arrival, the Imperial Legion had razed it to the ground after the residents had turned to Daedra worship and human sacrifice. As Sjöfn and I walked through the village, it was barely evident that people still lived there. Of the dozen or so buildings, only 5 had been repaired or rebuilt. The spines on my head tingled to warn me of danger.

“I have a bad feeling about this…” I warned Sjöfn, resting my hand on the pommel of my sword.

“Don’t worry, I’ll look after you.” Sjöfn said with a wink and a giggle, and set off to talk to a scruffy looking resident who’d just emerged from the village store.

I caught up in time to hear him grumble something about ‘outsiders’ before he stormed off.

“Helpful?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

“Rude,” she replied, still smiling, “let’s look around a bit. We’ll split up to cover more ground.”

I didn’t like the sound of splitting up, but I could see the sense in it. I nodded and headed toward the inn, but stopped when I heard a noise. It sounded like…a horse?

The horse in question was standing in the shell of a burnt cottage. Fully tacked and ready for a trek through the forest.

“No food or water in here, and you’re all dressed up to go out. You must be Blossom.” The mare snorted again as I patted her neck. Now all I needed was to find the girl and get going. Perhaps it won’t be so difficult after all.

“You.” A whispered voice called from behind, but I’d heard them approach and managed to avoid jumping out of my skin.

“Me?” I turned to see a man standing a few feet away.

He was an Imperial, with a round face and short grey hair. His outfit seemed to have once been some leather pants and a linen shirt, but he’d patched it up with so many other bits and pieces that it looked more like a patchwork quilt. The most startling thing about him was his eyes, they were enormous.

“Sssh, we can’t talk here or they’ll get suspicious. The girl is in danger. Get your friend and meet me at my house, on the other side of town. Quickly.” He looked around nervously as he spoke, and left before I could answer.

I turned to look at Blossom, but she had little to say about the situation so I left her where she was and went to find Sjöfn. As I emerged into the village square, Sjöfn was exiting the chapel. She hurried over, and I told her about our invitation to the strange gentleman’s house.

“If you thought that was weird, look at this.” She ushered me out of sight and produced a large book from her pack. “I…found it in the chapel.”

The tome, called the Bible of the Deep Ones, was written entirely in a form of Daedric that I hadn’t seen before. Apparently the town’s Daedric history wasn’t history at all.

“Daedric. We should hurry.” I had nothing against Daedra worship, but in this case I had severe doubts that these folks were anything like the harmless Daedra worshippers you find at wilderness shrines. I lead the way to the meeting place, a small cottage just outside of town.

Inside, the cottage was as plain and scruffy as its owner, who was warming himself by the small fireplace. Aside from the fireplace, there was a bed, some empty shelves, and a cupboard. The man ushered us inside and bolted the door behind us.

“You came. Good. We don't have much time,” He paused for a second and glanced nervously out of the window, “You have to believe me, I didn't know what they were planning. They want to bring back the Deep Ones. I thought I did, too, but ... she's so innocent. They've got her down in the caverns. They're going to sacrifice her, you understand? You've got to save her! Here, take this key. It'll open any of the trapdoors down to the caves. Every house in town has one. The one in Moslin's Inn is your best bet. Nearest where she's being held.” He spoke so quickly that I had to wait a moment to take it all in.

“Easy there. Who are ‘they’? What’s a Deep One?” Sjöfn asked, her voice visibly soothing the man.

“I don't know much. Never seen them myself. Our grandfathers first found them, I think, digging in the mines. They helped us. Made us rich. But there was a terrible price. Blood -- and worse.” He paused for breath before continuing, “I was only a boy when the soldiers came. We hid, vowed revenge. But the Deep Ones never came back. Etira found some old books. Learned the runes, how to speak to them again. But they want blood, she says, or they'll not help us.”

“We should hurry to the inn then.” Sjöfn suggested.

“Wait. You said every house has a trapdoor. Does that include this one?” I asked. The man nodded dumbly. “If we go to the inn we’re likely to be spotted. I’d rather get in and out without anyone seeing us.” I had my doubts that the townsfolk would just let us wander in and out of their secret caverns with their sacrifice.

Sjöfn nodded and the man opened a trapdoor in the corner for us. He stopped to warn us before we went in:

“Those of us who've changed the most, we call The Brethren. Live down in the caves, to be nearer the Deep Ones. They don't like the sunlight much. Dangerous, too. You'll want to avoid them if you can help it.”

“Thank you.” I nodded, then climbed down the ladder and into the cavern.

It was dark. With no torches or signs of life at all. It was a wonder anyone could actually live down here, but in hindsight it was the perfect place for a murderous Daedric cult. The smell was the worst part though. An indescribable mix of rotten meat, men, and mud. I readied my bow, and Sjöfn followed my lead, but not until she’d tied a square of cloth around her nose and mouth to block out the smell.

We moved through the caverns as slowly as we could, ever alert for the mysterious ‘Brethren’ that we’d been warned about. When we encountered the first one I barely recognised it as a human at all.

He was wearing nothing but a pair of old breeches. His pale skin was covered in filth and blood, his back was crooked from years of walking through low tunnels. His hair fell in a greasy mess around his shoulders, covering his face. A crude wooden club hung at his waist. We froze when we saw him, but even at this distance I could smell him, and apparently he could smell us.

He stopped rooting around in a pile of filth at his feet, and turned toward us with mace drawn. He brought a hand to his face to move some hair out of the way, revealing a pair of impossibly large eyes. He was utterly grotesque, and he was coming right at us.

I was the quickest, and loosed an arrow which struck him square in the chest. Sjöfn’s arrow lodged itself in his shoulder a second later. The creature stumbled and went down, landing heavily on the stone floor. I moved forward cautiously and prodded him with my bow, but he was dead.

“By the Hist. That must be one of The Brethren. How did…he…see us from so far away?”

“Let’s just find Dar-Ma and get out of here.” Sjöfn wasn’t smiling anymore.

We met three more Brethren in the tunnels, and left each of them lying in the dirt with two arrows for company. The cavern system was enormous, with half a dozen tunnels branching off in every direction. We were moving towards what we hoped was the inn on the surface, and eventually found the right path, and Dar-Ma.

She was sitting in the corner of a large metal cage. The floor of her cell was liberally scattered with bones, and a few bits of straw that might have once made a rather comfortable bed. She was wearing a cream coloured dress, with a brown bodice and matching shoes. The dress was stained with mud and torn in several places. She looked up as we approached, but said nothing. She was young, younger than me, with bright eyes and bright scales. She spoke to us in a hurried whisper as Sjöfn started picking the lock on her cell.

“You’re here to rescue me?” She asked in a surprisingly un-Argonian accent.

“Yes. I’m with the Legion, and she’s with…your mother.” I hoped it would reassure her, but a noise from one of the tunnels drew my attention. Two of the Brethren. “Get her out of here. I should be able to deal with these two.” I didn’t need to look at Sjöfn to know she’d agree.

As the first Brethren fell to my arrow, the cage door clicked and swung open. Dar-Ma and Sjöfn hurried towards a ladder which would lead to the surface.

The second Brethren had closed the distance, and I dropped my bow to draw my sword. Even though he was using a heavy wooden club, the man-creatures attacks were brutally quick. All I could do was parry and dodge, looking for an opening to attack. He began shouting incoherently and drew back for a large swing, and I followed suit, swinging my sword in a large arc toward his chest. Our weapons met halfway, and the wooden club exploded in a shower of rotten splinters. My sword kept going, slicing the unarmoured torso from shoulder to hip. He fell to the ground like a sack of grain, and shuddered once before moving no more. I picked up my discarded bow and hurried to the ladder, the sound of bare feet shuffling toward me through the caves.

I emerged in the inn, which was deserted. The door stood open and I could see Sjöfn and Dar-Ma, now mounted on Blossom, standing outside. I quickly joined them, and turned back to see a Brethren pop his head out of the trapdoor. Even that brief glimpse of sunlight was enough to send him reeling back into the caves. We were safe.

“Well. That was more excitement than I thought it’d be. I’m glad I brought you along.” Sjöfn’s smile had returned, but I could tell she was still a little shaken from our jaunt through the caves. It occurred to me then that she’d always had Jötnar and Olorin with her, and part of me wanted to accompany her back to Chorrol. The other part of me realised that she was a talented huntress and I had nothing to worry about, so I gave her a quest of my own.

“Take this,” I began scribbling a note down on a piece of parchment, “to the captain of the guard in Chorrol, along with that book you found. They need to know what happened.” I signed my name and rank at the bottom of the note, and handed it over.

“You’re always thinking, aren’t you?” Sjöfn scanned the note and tucked it into her pack. “Have a safe trip.”

After thanking me again, Dar-Ma coaxed Blossom into setting off back to Chorrol, and Sjöfn followed closely after waving goodbye.

I turned and made my way out of Hackdirt, only stopping once I could no longer see it behind me and smell it on the wind.

“Right then,” I said to myself, “Onwards to Kvatch.”

’My Nord companion was practically bouncing with excitement as we moved through the forest.’ - - Ah yes, a Nordic woman bouncing through the forest is a sight to behold!

Woot! The ‘Rescue Dar-Ma’ quest!

Nice touch that you did not overlook the sense of smell as our intrepid duo entered the caves.

Well done to both Haa-Rei and Sjöfn. So nice that Dar-Ma and Blossom are safely headed home.

So it seems Haa-Rei will be continuing on alone to Kvatch then?

*

Since you asked about episode length. . . . This is just the opinion of one humble reader/writer. I like episodes that range between 1200 – 1600 words. Much under 800 words risks leaving the reader perhaps unsatisfied. Flirting with ~2000+ words invites skimming and risks readers not giving full attention/justice to what you do write. My opinions are based upon posting one episode per week. Writers who post more frequently probably want shorter episodes (<1000 words), and those who post less often than once a week might consider just slightly longer episodes (closer to 2000 words).

I do know exactly what you mean about the challenge of breaking your story into the right-sized pieces. The only time I ever really ran into problems with that is when the first part of an episode might leave the reader with an undesired impression that is clarified only by continuing. I wrestled with one such episode in Buffy’s story where Savlian seemed to decline the very clear opportunity to kiss Buffy. To break the story there would have led to unwanted speculation regarding his motivation. Only by continuing into what became an episode of about 2100 words did it become clear all in one sitting why he did so.

Another tip is having plenty ahead written up before beginning to post. That way you can consider shuffling ‘scenes’ around as you juggle them into episodes.

In your case here, it seems this episode could have been cleanly broken very near the middle, closing the first part with “Thank you.” I nodded, then climbed down the ladder and into the cavern.’

Let me reiterate that my ramblings about episode length are just that. Based on experience of plenty of fanfic reading and posting, yes, but simply an opinion. I hope you will consider my thoughts but, ultimately, it is more important that you write for you and what feels right to you and your character.

hazmick, the times I have trouble with lengthy reading is when a story has mostly 2,000+ word updates posted more often than weekly. Then I have to skim just to keep up. Your story has been a great pace for me, so a longer than usual post is not a problem. I tend to wait to read Haa-Rei’s story until I have time to enjoy and think about it without interruptions, so I’m usually late with replies. I hope that doesn’t seem like disinterest – it’s quite the opposite! I’m interested enough to want to give my best attention. I think Acadian’s advice is right on the mark.


“Yes. I’m with the Legion, and she’s with…your mother.”

Gosh, I loved this line.

I enjoyed the delightful Haa-Rei thoughts throughout his Hackdirt adventure. Lovely to see both Dar-Ma and Blossom on their way back to safety, accompanied by the bouncy and buoyant Sjöfn!

Acadian - Your ramblings are always welcome I think you're definitely right about 2000 being too much, it would become a bit of a chore if I had to try and keep that up every week. 1000-ish it is, then.

Grits - I'm glad the regular pace suits you. We'll stick with that.

Heh, as soon as I wrote that line I was reminded of high school, when teachers would use "I'll phone your mother" as the ultimate threat of punishment. Depending on the mother in question, it varies in effectiveness.



Previously - Haa-Rei and Sjöfn completed a daring rescue in the shady town of Hackdirt, and Haa-Rei set out alone for the city of Kvatch...

Chapter 25


The continent of Cyrodiil is roughly broken up into 10 regions, such as The Great Forest, The Gold Coast, and The Nibenay Basin. After leaving Hackdirt I headed South-West, into the region known as The Imperial Reserve.

The Imperial Reserve stretches from the Jerall Mountains in the North, to Kvatch in the South, and is quite the opposite of the neighbouring forest land. The Reserve has very few trees, with scrubland and open plains making up the vast majority of the landscape. To the untrained eye it may appear rather bleak, but amongst the hardy shrubs and withered heath there is an abundance of wildlife.

Rabbit burrows crisscross in a huge underground network, while herds of deer eat their way back and forth across the surface. Wolves stalk the fringes of the forest, while lions creep across the plains. Now, I was there too.

It was a warm day in the forest, but a refreshing breeze blew in from the west as I moved further into the reserve. I took a deep breath, tasting the scents on the air. I could smell deer and rabbit, and another scent which I couldn’t quite put my claw on despite it being quite familiar.

My plan was to head in a straight line towards Kvatch, and I calculated that I’d only need to make camp once or twice along the way. Plans don’t always go as we want them to however, and this was certainly to be the case.

“There’s that smell again…” I muttered to myself. The familiar scent hit me whenever the wind blew, and I found myself following it before long.

After half an hour or so, I found the source. It was fire. Not a campfire, but rather a solid, vertical wall of fire about twice my height and several times my width. A ring of floating black rock seemed to be holding it together.

A small creature stalked around it. For those in the know, this was a Scamp. For those who don’t know…it’s hard to describe such an odd looking creature. Roughly the size and shape of a young human, but with brown fur, claws, and the face of a particularly ugly cat. They also throw fireballs, so I wasted no time in taking it down, my arrow punching deep into the creature’s frail body.

The rest of the scamp’s comrades, already deceased, were strewn around the area alongside the bodies of several lions. From the looks of things the fire wall had appeared right in the middle of this pride. Regardless, seeing the scamps made me realise what the scent was. Daedra.

I’d smelled it before, in the Daedric ruins of Morrowind, and many times whilst summoning my own Daedric allies. It was so out of place here that I hadn’t recognised it earlier.

“One mystery solved, but one more opens. What on Nirn is this thing?” I asked myself, now standing in front of the fire wall. The flames weren’t very hot, but the land was scorched and blackened in a large circled around me. There was a roaring sound emanating from it, but it was as if the sound was in my head rather than being heard. I needed help.

These days I am considered to be something of an expert in Daedric matters, but back then, on that day in the reserve, I was a complete novice. When wanting to learn more of Daedra, who better to ask but another Daedra? With that in mind, I summoned Eithne the Flame Atronach.

She appeared between myself and the fire wall, and for a moment I could barely see her, so camouflaged was she against the fiery backdrop. As always she floated several inches above the ground, so as not to burn anything more than was necessary. Not that it mattered here.

“Master.” She greeted me. Her sing-song voice cutting through the fire’s roar.

“Hello Eithne. I was wondering if you knew what this was.” I gestured at the wall. She turned in a flowing somersault motion and tilted her head, examining the fiery surface.

“I’m not sure what the Cyrodiilic word for it is. Perhaps…gate?”

“A gate? To where?” I asked in surprise. As far as I could see, this solid wall of fire looked nothing like a gate, but I trusted my friend’s word.

“Oblivion, of course.” She replied in a tone that suggested I was stupid to even ask, and did another somersault.

“Of course. What’s it doing here though?” Now I was curious. I’d never heard of Oblivion gates, let alone those that just popped up in the countryside willy nilly, and I wasn’t sure if I was all too pleased with the idea of it.

“I’m not sure. Technically it shouldn’t be allowed, unless…I don’t suppose you’ve lost an Emperor recently?” She turned back to face me, and tilted her head again in curiosity.

“As a matter of fact, yes. He was killed very recently, but I don’t see what- oh, the dragonfires!”

The dragonfires were, as the name suggests, fires from a dragon. Specifically, they were said to be created from the blood of Akatosh, the dragon god. They were also said to protect Nirn from Daedric incursion, and had been alight for…well, a very long time, thanks to the Amulet of Kings being in the possession of the Emperors of Cyrodiil. Without the Emperor and the amulet, the dragonfires would not be relit, and Daedra would be free to mooch about Nirn as and when they please.

“Yes. It would seem that Nirn is being invaded.” Eithne said again. Her silky voice was completely at odds with her words, which made it sound as if a demon invasion was of little importance.

“If a gate can be opened, I suppose one could close it. Right?” I asked, prodding the stone base of the gate with my foot.

“Of course…you’re going to try it, aren’t you?” She asked. If atronachs had eyebrows, one of hers would have been raised in my direction.

“Well, it’s bad manners to leave a door open.” I checked my gear to make sure everything was in order, and gestured towards the gate. “After you, my lady.”

Eithne sighed, and entered the gate, her slim body vanishing into the surface of the fire like a pebble through water. After another look around, in case this was to be my last sight of Nirn, I followed her.

Onward, to Oblivion.

Clearly not Kvatch's gate, as Someone Else™ is dealing with that one.

It makes sense that Haa-Rei is able to talk to Eithne, or else how would he know her name? And I like his logic about closing a gate that someone carelessly left open, in this case after the scamps get out.

I love the time you lavished upon the flora and fauna during Haa-Rei’s trek west, as forest yielded to plains. Rabbits, deer, wolves, lions and the smell of. . . Daedra.

Eithne stole the show here! How clever of Haa-Rei to think of asking his own Daedra about the fiery scamp-emitting anomaly that he encountered. And the personality, presence and movement you gave to Eithne was wonderful as she gracefully answered his questions.

Onward to Oblivion indeed!

The pace in this story is good. You succeed where I fail: word count. I put too much description in my chapters and in the end they go by unnoticed due to the strain it takes just to get by haha. The pacing here is great, the description good as well, balanced, and the character is going through familiar adventures that somehow feel fresh and new.



As I mentioned, the descriptions are great. What makes Cyrodiil such a wonderful locale aside from the obvious flora and atmosphere would be the fauna. The wildlife is just abundant, and game never scarce for foresters and hunters; for nature lovers, the butterflies are a sight to behold. You detailed this wonderfully in your last chapter.


Haa-Rei met a known figure, and receives his quest to deliver the amulet to Jaufree. Ah, and a Nord ally! They make wonderful traveling companions. The travel to Hackdirt was ominious, and what'd you expect from a cult-like community of paranoid weirdos.



Woah! See, that's why I found those barbarians easy to dispatch in Oblivion. No armor, no training . . . they can overwhelm if in numbers but one on one they're no challenge. In the end he proved victorious.

Haa-Rei's quest takes him to an Oblivion gate and beyond. I guess the smell of Daedra might prove to be overwhelming now that he's through the infernal gate.

Oh my . . . for an Argonian he might feel just how bad the lack of sun, fresh water and life Dagon's realm is. Best to go in, clean through and get out!

I absolutely adored Haa-Rei’s description of the Imperial Reserve. That’s a favorite area of mine.

“Well, it’s bad manners to leave a door open.”

I just love Haa-Rei’s attitude! Eithne is delightful. I enjoyed her graceful mannerisms.

ghastley- Yep, I wanted Haa-Rei to explore a gate, but I didn't want him to get too involved with main quest stuff. Kvatch soon though.

Acadian - When I think of Flame Atronachs, I picture the Skyrim variant. They way they move is just perfect for a fire elemental.

Darkness Eternal - Word count is always tricky to balance. My English language and literature teachers in school and college spent years telling me to go into more detail, but not to ramble. I'm just glad you're enjoying it!

Grits - It's a lovely area, but it's so far away from...anywhere...that it often gets overlooked. As for Eithne, being a fire elemental doesn't mean one can't also be an elegant lady.



Previously - Haa-Rei continued his journey towards Kvatch, but the appearance of an Oblivion Gate has interrupted his plans. Now he journeys to Oblivion itself, with Eithne the flame atronach as his guide...

Chapter 26

“So this is Oblivion?” I asked as I looked around, my body tingling with energy from the gate behind me.

We’d emerged on a hill overlooking a completely alien landscape. The sky was the colour of blood, with dark clouds sending forks of red lightning to and fro. The ground was dry, cracked, and scorched, with vast rivers of lava being the closest thing to liquid I could see.

Despite this though, the land was anything but dead. Strange grasses and vines clung to life wherever they could, and terrifying daedric creatures wandered around below. Several dark structures could be seen dotting the landscape, and I assumed that the more powerful Daedra and dremora lived there.

“This is the Deadlands. Realm of Mehrunes Dagon, Lord of Destruction, Change, Revolution, Energy, and Ambition.” Eithne explained in her usual songlike voice. I was glad of her company.

“How do we close the gate?” I asked, hoping that we could get back to Cyrodiil, no, Nirn, as soon as possible.

“Each gate is powered by an item called a sigil stone. If we find the stone and remove it from its bindings, the gate should close and you’ll hopefully be transported back to Nirn.”

“Wait. Should? Hopefully? You don’t sound very sure.”

“I’m not. I’ve never seen a mortal attempt it, so it’s just a theory.” Her use of the word ‘mortal’ always made me uneasy, and her blunt honesty wasn't filling me with much hope.

“I see. I assume this stone will be in a prominent, defensible position. Like that tower over there.” I pointed to the structure in question – A tall, dark tower which was decorated with dozens of large spikes. A perfect home for a daedric relic.

“That is a safe assumption.” Eithne began leading the way.

I stood for a moment longer before setting off. I’m not ashamed to admit that I was completely and utterly terrified, to the point where my legs could barely move. Having Eithne with me made me feel a lot better though, and as she twisted and danced through the air my legs began to move and we made our way slowly towards the tower.

We were making good progress, managing to avoid the various creatures which patrolled the wastes, when we came to a river of lava. The molten rock hissed and bubbled as it flowed slowly by, and gave off so much heat that I thought I’d faint at any moment. To cross this river I’d have to leap across several large rocks which spanned its width.

I was half way across when the scamp appeared on the far bank. In the haze of heat and sulphurous fumes I could barely see or think straight, and could only watch dumbly as the creature’s fireball whistled towards me.

Fortunately, I was not alone, and Eithne nonchalantly intercepted the projectile, catching it as one would a ball. Scamps can of course resist fire almost as well as a flame atronach, so even if Eithne favoured violence (which as I’ve mentioned, she does not) it would be a firefight without end. All she could do was act as a floating shield as I numbly jumped between rocks, landing on the other side with sword drawn.

Scamps may resist fire, but their bodies are fragile and a dwarven longsword will make quick work of them. Nevertheless, I was now tired, dizzy, and lightly singed in several places, and we were far from finished with our task.

We resumed our journey and once again managed to avoid the residents of Oblivion until we reached the tower. I knew there’d be no avoiding the creatures within, and readied my bow while Eithne heaved open the heavy doors with a strength that didn’t match her delicate appearance.

The inside of the tower was cooler than the wasteland outside, but only just. Despite being made from what appeared to be heavy black stone and metal, the tower seemed to have poor insulation. I took a deep breath of the hot, dense air, and crept further in. Eithne followed behind me, so as not to give away our position.

The source of heat in the tower was in the next room. The room itself was perfectly round, with what looked like the base of a fountain in the centre. Out of this base rose a pillar of white light, which gave off not only heat, but a shrill screaming sound which seemed to drown out everything else. A dremora stood before the fountain, and I wasted no time in loosing an arrow at him.

It struck him in the back, and he turned quickly with sword drawn. I fired again, hitting him square in the chest. This time he went down, or rather, backwards. He staggered back and tripped on the edge of the central structure, falling into the abyss from which the light pillar rose.

Eithne confirmed that the room was clear, and we moved on. The tower, unsurprisingly, had a great many stairs. We walked up and up and up until my muscles ached and my legs wobbled. Along the way we avoided and disarmed dozens of traps. Traps with fire, traps with spikes, traps with fiery spikes. There also seemed to be an endless number of scamps, who were easily dealt with but managed to drain my energy considerably.

Eithne, on the other hand, seemed quite at home. She danced through the hot air and fire like a fish through water, twirling and laughing as we moved further up the dark tower.

My heart sank even further once we reached the top. A large dremora waited for us. Covered in thick plate armour, leaning on an impossibly large greatsword of wicked black and red metal. A large spherical stone hovered behind him, seemingly being supported from below by the screaming pillar of light. The sigil stone.

“Mortal fool! You are in my domain, and will pay for your trespass!” The dremora roared. His voice sounded like fire and thunder and clashing steel all at once.

I readied my bow and loosed an arrow in one fluid motion, only to watch it bounce harmlessly off his cuirass. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

I drew my sword and moved to engage him, but he was faster than he looked. His sword carved a mighty arc through the air, and sent my blade spinning from my hand, across the room, and into the depths of the tower. A large boot kicked me in the chest, and I tumbled backwards. The dremora resumed his stance, confident in his strength.

“You can’t beat him, Haa-Rei.” Eithne’s voice cut through the hot air like a blade. I was momentarily stunned – she’d never called me by my name before. “Go for the stone. I’ll distract him.”

The usually elegant Eithne suddenly changed. Her feet firmly planted on the floor, her fiery body glowed white with heat. The dremora saw the danger and readied his sword as the flame atronach collided with him, sending a shower of sparks whizzing through the air. I took my chance and dashed across the room towards my objective.

I grabbed the stone and wrenched it from the fiery anchor which held it in place. Almost immediately the dremora let out an ear splitting howl. The air grew hotter, searing my scales and filling my vision with white light. Then, everything was gone.

A wonderfully portrayed introduction to the inside of an Oblivion gate for Haa-Rei.

Once again, Eithne steals the show here. I’m glad you are ‘modeling’ her after the SkyFlameAtronachs as Bethesda really did a superb job packing so much presence and personality into them. And, of course, she’s right at home in Dagon’s burning deadlands.

So we arrive in Oblivion-specifically-the realm of Dagon: the Deadlands.

We’d emerged on a hill overlooking a completely alien landscape. The sky was the colour of blood, with dark clouds sending forks of red lightning to and fro. The ground was dry, cracked, and scorched, with vast rivers of lava being the closest thing to liquid I could see.

Well, If there's a bright center to the universe, he's on the realm that it's farthest from

Not the best place to go for sightseeing. The denizens aren't welcoming either. Scamps dot the hellish plane and resist fire but cannot endure the kiss of a dwarven blade. Sword fodder, these. Quite the daring action as he and Eithne moved through the tower. I guess flame-wars would go on endlessly with Eithne around. A clever way to make us sympathize with the demonized creatures the mortals call Daedra. I like Eithne already!

Swordless, and seemingly knocked unconscious . . . we are left with a hanger, wondering what has become of our Argonian. My bets is he is taken prisoner by the clan-like warriors. Hmm.

If Haa-Rei has my kind of luck, he's just grabbed a Sigil Stone that confers Waterbreathing.

His bow being unable to affect Dremora armor is a dangerous precedent to set yourself. You'll need a good reason for his next encounter to work differently. But you've planned for that, haven't you?

Acadian - I wasn't originally planning to have Eithne accompany us to Oblivion, but I quite enjoy writing about her. Glad to see she's made an impact.

Darkness Eternal- Yeah I wouldn't personally want to visit the Deadlands, but I can see why the scamps like it so much.

ghastley - Not to worry, the bow problem is all in hand. Or rather it will be soon(ish).




Previously - Haa-Rei and Eithne journeyed to the Deadlands - realm of Mehrunes Dagon. After several heated encounters our Argonian managed to get his claws on the sigil stone and was enveloped by white light...

Chapter 27


The mysteries of Oblivion have always been vast and unknowable to mortals, but the Oblivion Crisis (as this period of time would later be known) gave us an incredible amount of knowledge. We now know, for example, that a sigil stone can be used as a power focus for many different conjuration rituals. We also know that sigil stones will trigger a transplanar teleportation when they are unceremoniously yanked from their anchor points that hold open Oblivion gates. In simpler terms – when I grabbed the stone it caused the Oblivion gate to close, and I was spat back out into Nirn.

I landed with a heavy thud on the scorched ground around the gate. For a moment I simply lay there feeling rather dazed, staring up at the clear night sky. Stars twinkled overhead, and the twin moons glowed brightly as if to welcome me back. After a second or two I remembered how to breathe, and began gulping huge mouthfuls of clean air and coughing up the sulphurous fumes of Oblivion.

I was mostly uninjured, but for a few scratches and sore scales. My armour was in a sorry state, with scorch marks covering almost every part of it. My quiver had suffered a heavy singing and most of the arrows were ruined, though mercifully my bow was intact. The greatest loss however was my sword, which was nowhere to be found.

On the other hand, or rather in my sword hand, I had gained something else though. The sigil stone.

It was perfectly spherical and made of some sort of glass material. Within its depths I could see shifting and swirling patterns of red and black. The surface of the stone, which at first appeared smooth, also seemed to shift slightly to match these patterns. It was one of the most captivatingly beautiful objects I’d ever seen, and it struck me as odd that something so pretty could be found in such a harsh landscape.

It also seemed to hum with energy, and as I moved it from one hand to the other, the palm of my gauntlet disintegrated into a pile of ash. Prolonged contact with the stone had simply burned through the leather, and I was thankful that I hadn’t picked it up with bare hands. On closer inspection I realised that it was no longer giving off any heat, so I concluded that it was the initial contact that had done the damage. With that in mind I carefully wrapped up the stone in a piece of tough cloth and stowed it in my pack.

I turned to ask Eithne more about the stone when I suddenly realised that she wasn’t there. I shakily climbed to my feet and looked around, but my flame atronach companion was nowhere to be seen. I tried casting the conjuration spell, but it simply fizzled out. Daedra can’t die, they simply dematerialize back into the waters of Oblivion until you call for them again. So why can’t I call her? Where is she? Could she be trapped in there? I looked at the smouldering pile of rocks that used to be the Oblivion gate, and my heart felt heavy.

My body, however, felt tired, and the night air had grown chilly. I left the gate behind and wandered in what I hoped was a south-westerly direction. I stopped once I found a suitably large boulder, and set about gathering wood for a fire.

It took longer than expected thanks to the landscape of the Imperial Reserve, but I soon had a small campfire and enough wood to keep it going until morning. After several more minutes of rooting about in my pack, I heaved out my bedroll and lay it between the fire and the boulder. It was hardly an armchair in front of the fireplace, but it was as cosy as one could be in such a situation. I munched on some dried strips of beef and couldn’t help but smile to myself. This is the life.

I awoke the next morning feeling rather groggy, and the thick fog that had descended on the landscape did nothing to warm me up. The cool mist on my scales was rather refreshing though, so I woke up the slumbering campfire and warmed myself as best as I could before gathering my things and setting off.

If my calculations were correct then I would be arriving in Kvatch in about 2 days. Unfortunately I hadn’t foreseen my trip to Oblivion or the dense fog that had now slowed me down to a yawning crawl. For 3 days I wandered through the mist, unable to see more than 20 feet in any direction. The occasional sounds of a passing deer or snapping twig seemed to echo through the air, but just when I was getting rather fed up with it all, the fog cleared.

I was standing atop a rather large rock, catching my breath, when a strong breeze blew in from the south and pushed the fog away. Ahead of me I could see the city of Kvatch, and it was burning.

Great plumes of smoke formed puffy grey pillars reaching up into the low clouds, as if the city was holding up the sky. Even at this distance I could see that many buildings had been destroyed. The wind blew again, carrying with it the scent of burning wood, bodies…and Oblivion.

The spines on my head were tingling as I clambered down from the rock and set off at a run towards the city, almost slipping over on the damp grass.

“Here we go again.” I sighed.

It took me a while to remember that Oblivion and Skyrim are almost diametrically opposite when it comes to conjuration spells, and that the inability to cast a spell means the previous use hasn't ended yet. So that would mean that Eithne's still around, somewhere.

I'm still expecting that stone to give him Waterbreathing, but after all the references to how his equipment is scorched to the point of uselessness, it could be Frost Resistance.

Aww, I hope Eithne finds Haa-Rei. . . or the other way around maybe.

Nice description of the sigil stone - they are fascinating objects for sure.

Oh noes! Not another gate! After what he's just been through, it speaks much of Haa-Rei's character that he runs toward the Kvatch gate instead of away from it.

Haa-Rei's Fiery Friend is gone? Most unfortunate.



This says much about Sigil Stones. Have you read Liminal Bridges? Explains quite a bit on the nature of a Sigil Stone.

How relieved he must have been to return from Oblivion to breath the fresh, clear air of Cyrodiil. Being another dimension - another realm- I imagine even the air is different in temperature and heaviness. At least he's whole, with no arrows, no sword but a bow. I suppose he'll need to acquire some arrows.

Through a peaceful night, a cold morning and some heavy forecast of fog, our Argonian at last reaches town that is burned to the grown by Oblivion's wrathful citizens. Back to dealing with Daedra again . . .

I long for a reunion with Eithne.

ghastley - all will be revealed, eventually.

Acadian - You know how those gates are - close one and another seems to pop right up again.

Darkness Eternal - I have indeed, and it will serve as source material for future sigil stone shenanigans. I love the overly complex language that it uses - very 'mage-y'




Previously - Haa-Rei emerged from the gate in one, slightly charred, piece. After losing several days to bad weather he has finally arrived in Kvatch, only to see it burning...

Chapter 28


My haste to leap into action proved completely unnecessary. I scrambled up the hill to Kvatch, only to find that the city had been saved mere hours before my arrival. Of course I was glad that the city was no longer being besieged by the demonic forces of Oblivion, but I was also a little bit annoyed that I’d ran all this way for nothing. Any selfish feelings I had were soon dismissed, as I learned more of the situation.

A refugee camp had been established on a large, open space about halfway up the path to the city. Several people were busy with sewing, mixing herbs, cooking, and whatever else they could do to keep busy. Others simply stared off into the distance or wept quietly to themselves. For such a large city, there were very few people here.

I handed all of my food to a Nord woman who was busy chopping vegetables to go into a large cooking pot. After thanking me, she began to explain what had happened.

An Oblivion gate had opened in front of the city several nights previous and Daedra had swarmed through Kvatch, killing and burning everything in sight (apart from the chapel, which was seemingly impervious to direct assault). The guardsmen had the good sense to just rescue whoever they could and leave the city, where they regrouped and set up defensive lines in order to protect the civilians. A passing adventurer, who matched the description of the person I was here to find, ventured into the Oblivion gate and closed it. Once the gate was closed, the adventurer and the guardsmen charged into the city (meeting up with some civilians who had weathered the attack in the chapel) and defeated the remaining Daedra. The adventurer (already being referred to as the ‘Hero of Kvatch’) departed shortly thereafter in the company of a priest. They were last seen heading along the road to Skingrad.

I’d found a large boulder to sit on while I went over all of this information, and let out a long sigh. I hadn’t considered the effects of the Oblivion gate that I’d closed, being so far away from anywhere, but this attack on Kvatch was utterly catastrophic.

I thought of sleepy Chorrol, and of Deeh back in Leyawiin. What would happen if they were attacked? Would the guards be as heroic as those in Kvatch? Would a passing adventurer happen to be nearby to close the gate? Then there was the timing – if the Nord had been correct, the gate had opened on the night of the Emperor’s death. Finally, what was the significance of the priest? Was he the package that Jauffre had sent for? Was any of this linked, or was it all a series of terrible coincidences?

“E-excuse me sir.” A small voice pulled me away from my thoughts. It belonged to a blonde haired woman, a Breton, wearing the torn and charred remains of a green dress. A young girl, who I judged to be her daughter due to the striking resemblance, clung to her hand. They were looking up at me with wide eyes, and I clambered down from my rock before replying.

“Yes?” I asked, slightly confused that she’d called me ‘sir’.

“Would you happen to be an adventurer? I-I saw you give your food to the others so I was hoping you would help me with something too. You’d be p-paid of course…” She was clearly nervous, and spoke so fast that I could barely keep up, but trailed off at the end. She looked exhausted.
“What is it that you need help with, exactly?”

“Well I- that is, my daughter and I, were on our way to Anvil when…this happened…so I was hoping to find someone to travel the last s-stage of the journey with. Hopefully someone that would be able to keep us safe from any D-Daedra that may be roaming around…” Her eyes wandered from my armour to my bow, as if she was making sure that I was properly equipped.

My first thought was to reject the proposal. I was here on Blades business, and my target had a head start of several hours in the direction of Skingrad. On top of that, I had no sword – a sellsword with no sword is quite frankly an embarrassment to the profession. Just as I was about to decline, the child spoke.

“If you help us, I’ll share my sweets with you,” She said, and revealed a crumpled paper bag containing some slightly melted candy. “but not all of them. The rest is for Ali.” She had such a strong voice that I momentarily forgot which of us was the child and which was the brave mercenary.
“Who’s Ali?” I asked after I’d regained my composure.

“Oh, that’s Ailinwe. My wife. She’s waiting for us in Anvil.” The woman explained, patting her child on the head. The youngsters input seemed to calm the woman.

Well that was that then. What sort of Argonian would I be if I stood between a woman and her wife, and more importantly between myself and some sweets. Sword or no sword, I would do it.

“Ok then, I’ll get you to Anvil. We’ll set off whenever you’re ready.”

I’d assumed they would take a while to gather their things, maybe have some food and rest before leaving, but after disappearing into a tent for a few seconds they emerged with a small pack and told me they were ready to go.

And so, I set off toward Anvil while the Hero of Kvatch moved in the opposite direction. Even so, I felt as if I was doing the right thing.

Of course Haa-Rei needs to go to Anvil. He needs a new sword, and he shouldn't take one from the Kvatch Camp.

But didn't his mother tell him not to accept sweets from strangers?

Aww, Haa-Rei has a good heart. Besides, sounds like Martin is in pretty capable hands.

I loved Haa-Rei’s vision of the Deadlands! Too bad about his sword. Uh oh, and Eithne is out of reach.

Whew, what a relief that someone took care of that Kvatch Gate. It speaks highly of Haa-Rei that he was heading in that direction, but I’m glad he didn’t get dragged straight back to Oblivion! Haa-Rei’s interaction with the Breton and her daughter was thoroughly charming. Perhaps Anvil will hold a sword for Haa-Rei. At the least there will be sweets along the way!

ghastley - Anvils are often the best place to find swords, so who knows what we'll find there.

Acadian - A good heart and a sweet tooth

Grits - Yep, I think one Oblivion Gate is enough for Haa-Rei at the moment.




Previously - Haa-Rei arrived at Kvatch to learn that the city had been attacked by Daedra. Thanks to the valiant efforts of the city guard, many people were saved. Two such people have hired Haa-Rei to accompany them to Anvil...

Chapter 29


“Haa-Rei?” A small voice spoke up beside me.

“Yes, Marie?” I replied, turning to address the child.

We’d been walking for almost an hour, and aside from introducing themselves my companions had been silent. Ordinarily I would have been more than happy to walk in peace, but the young girl (who was called Marie) had been staring at me for the entire journey so far. Her mother, Lynette, was focused purely on the road ahead – keen to see Anvil, and her wife.

“Can I ride on your shoulders?” Asked Marie. Apparently she’d been deciding whether or not I would be a comfortable seat.

“Marie, you can’t jus-“ Her mother began, but stopped when I raised my hand to show I didn't mind.

“Well, I don’t suppose you can see much of anything from down here,” I said, crouching down so I was at Marie’s eye level. “climb aboard.”

“Thanks!” huffed the child as she clambered up onto my shoulders. Her mother smiled and also thanked me. I was just happy to be able to pick up the pace now that it was just us two adults on foot.

It wasn’t long before I found my head turning of its own accord, or rather of Marie’s accord. Her tiny hands were using my horns as one would use reins, steering me this way and that every time she saw something of interest. Things of interest primarily included flowers, insects, and various leaves which I was asked to identify. The child found this entire experience to be utterly hilarious, and giggled throughout my informative talk on the leaves of coastal Cyrodiil. Her mother also laughed, and for the first time she seemed to smile properly, without her usual hint of sadness.

“Have you ever been to Anvil?” Marie asked, tapping me on the head with her new favourite leaf.

“I have not. Why do you ask?”

“We’re going to be living there, so I wondered what it was like.”

“Well, I hear it’s always nice and warm. Lots of people from all over Tamriel visit the port for trade and travel.” I tried to think of things that she might find interesting about a city, but this was the first time I’d ever spent time with a human child and I was at a loss for ideas.

“Is there a beach?”

“I expect so. It’s right next to the sea, after all.”

“I don’t like the sea…but I like the beach.” Truth be told I didn’t like either, but I kept quiet as my passenger began to chatter happily about the pros and cons of the seaside.

Any initial worries I might have had about this journey were all but forgotten. The weather was warm, and there was no sign at all of any Daedra in the area. The guards of Kvatch had done a good job to keep anything from getting past their line.

The only issue arose when we arrived at an inn towards the end of the day. A large sign hung on the door which proclaimed that no more rooms were available, likely full of refugees and other travelers. If I had been alone I could have made the journey to Anvil at night, but I didn’t want to risk it with my two companions.

Marie had fallen asleep, still on my shoulders, so I asked Lynette what she wanted to do.

“Do you think we could make it to Anvil now?” She asked, though she likely knew what my answer would be. Her thoughts had been entirely focused on being reunited with her wife, and being so close must be frustrating to say the least.

“Personally I think it would be a bad idea to continue tonight. Marie is already asleep, so we should set up camp for the night.” I tried my best to be firm but fair, and Lynette nodded in agreement.

I found a suitable spot just off the road, sheltered by a small group of trees. After Lynette removed my sleeping passenger, she fished some blankets from her pack and wrapped Marie in one, and herself in the other. By this time I’d got a modest fire going, though the evening air was warm enough without it.

I almost regretted giving my food to the Kvatch refugees, as I had nothing to give Lynette. I’d eaten only a day ago, and as such didn’t need anything myself. Humans need to eat several times a day of course.

Fortunately I still had my bow, and it wasn’t long before the Breton woman was deftly plucking a partridge. It was mesmerising to watch as she prepared and cooked the bird with the skill and speed of a professional.

“I used to work in the kitchens of a Lord’s house in High Rock.” She explained. “That’s where I met Ailinwe.”

“How come you and Marie are travelling alone?” I asked, trying to distract her from the momentary gloom that appeared on her face at the mention of her wife’s name.

“Ailinwe traveled ahead. We’ve bought a house in Anvil and she wanted to make sure it was all in order by the time we get there.”

“Well you shouldn’t be waiting much longer. If we set off at first light we should make it by noon.”

“Thank you…and thank you for being so kind to Marie. She can be very…forward.”

“No problem. She’s a fine young lady, though I’m not sure how effective my lesson on leaves was.” To illustrate my point about how interesting leaves were, I produced my tea equipment from my pack and got to work. “If you’d care for some tea, I have a delicious blend that I brought from Morrowind. It’s called ‘Ash Tea’, though it has a very minimal ash content.”

I began a thorough talk on the foods of Morrowind and their high ash content (which Dunmer seem to have a thing for) while Lynette ate and drank her fill. A sleepy Marie joined us to eat her own share, then went almost immediately back to sleep. Her mother soon followed her example, and I was left to stand guard.

I took the opportunity to read a fascinating book about Oblivion Gates, which used lots of complicated mage words. I was still unable to summon Eithne, but now I had some ideas about possible solutions to the problem.

These ideas would have to wait, as we set off for Anvil shortly after dawn. Marie sleepily resumed her position atop my shoulders, still partially wrapped in a blanket which gave the impression that she was wearing a cape.

“Are we nearly there?” Lady Marie asked.

“Almost.” I replied.

Before I forget, let me mention your screenshot for Rains Hand. Beautiful, intriguing and eerie. What are we looking at there?


‘Her tiny hands were using my horns as one would use reins, steering me this way and that every time she saw something of interest.’
Gosh there is so much goodness here! You delicately remind us of Haa-Rie’s Argonianness while Marie captures everyone’s heart! Indeed, what a fabulous job you’ve done with her.

’Humans need to eat several times a day of course.’
As ever, I love it when Haa-Rei speaks Argonian to us,

Oh, I hope I detected the foreshadowing of Eithne’s return.

Always a delight to travel along with Haa-Rei.

Thank you. That would be Haa-Rei (In full Tree-Minder regalia) kneeling before a Hist tree (decorated with an Argonian totem) and an Argonian nest. One of the two Argonian eggs there is empty, having hatched.

There are large communal Hatching Pools, but one can also find these smaller nests tucked away in the wilderness. The bright red Hist fruit is always a sign of nearby nests.

Haa-Rei’s manner with Marie was just as charming as the young human herself. As ever I love the remarks that show men and mer as different from Argonians rather than the usual Argonians are the different ones.

I’m a little nervous about Lynette and Ailinwe’s new Anvil house.

Very confusing, too




This alone tells volumes of the forces at work here.

Hmm, late behind Kvatch's salvation it seems. It is a breath of fresh air that this is not the Champion, but perhaps a champion in his own right. Someone did his work for him.

Marie and his interaction was fun.