"They caught an intruder" Teinaava says. Uh oh. Wonder if it is who I think it is.

Yep. Sure is (Rayenna). Oh gosh. They fed from her??? Dang. As fIcked up as I think Rayenna is, now I feel bad for her. Then again, who did she think she is, trying to sneak into their hideout that way?

Wow, and she's sticking with her 'traitor' story, trying to frame Lena, after all this. Guess she doesn't remember any of what happened.

Sheesh, this is depressing. But as I said... who did she think she is.



Yikes.

Here

Do you choose justice or mercy?

4th Era, Year Unknown - A dream

Lena was lying on a beach, her chest slashed open, her heart missing. A dragon was standing over her. "Take up arms, newly Arisen," he said. "Come and face me."

Lena sat up with a jerk. Her heart was beating fast, it was still in her chest, with an ugly, rugged scar over it. She looked around. A room with many beds, an inn perhaps. Smells of cooking wafting in through the curtain in the doorway. Salty sea air coming in through a window. Voices downstairs... Familiar voices. Cassardis. She'd simply had a bad dream.

Her head hurt. Was there another party at Pablo's last night? Did she overdo it again with his whiskey? She tried to remember what went on. She remembered being in the Rift, fighting... God? That must have been the whiskey or another dream... That didn't seem possible!

And before that? The Everfall, fighting tough monsters for no reason, collecting wakestones... The world of Gransys all dark, overrun by monsters from the Bitterblack Isle... That didn't feel like a dream. She pressed her hand to her chest, feeling her heartbeat. She had defeated the dragon, got back her heart, but the world crumbled in response... She had to fix it... She didn't know what to do, they'd been trying to find out what happened, but ran out of leads... Scorpio should be there somewhere, getting coffee, perhaps?

She got up and went downstairs. Pablo was there, smiling, pouring her a cup, Benita popped in for breakfast, other villagers were coming and going, fishermen brought in their catch of the morning... But Scorpio wasn't there. She asked Pablo about him. "Haven't seen him, no," Pablo shook his head. "Isn't he with you? I haven't seen you come in, you must have got here during the night... Sorry, cousin, don't know."

She felt a pang of panic in her chest. "No, wait, calm down," she told herself. "He must be here somewhere..."

Lena went outside. The sea was calm and life was back to normal, at least in Cassardis. "A good start to any task is talking with others; let's begin with that." She remembered what every pawn would tell her every time she was about to rush into something without so much as a thought... "Perhaps I should listen to them for once," she told herself. She went around talking to everyone, but it didn't help - no one had seen Scorpio, or any of the other pawns for that matter, although there was talk of the dragon's second coming... "But there's always talk of that, pay it no mind," was the common consensus. Finally, Lena decided to have a look outside the village, to make sure that the world really got back to normal. She went towards the village gate...

...

Rook was being recalled. "There is a new Arisen," he was told. "You know what to do." A portal opened and he stepped through it.

...

"Cassardis?" Rook landed on sandy ground, he looked around, recognising the village. "Gransys again, then. Who is it this time?" There was a guard by the entrance, a few fishermen carrying fish, children playing... "Wolf?" A woman with a bow and daggers was fumbling with the village gate, her dragon leather vest and hydra skin boots contrasting with everyone else's simple summer attire... "Wolf?!" She spun around. "Rook!"

...

"As far as I'm concerned, you are the newly Arisen," Rook was looking her over. "That's what I've been told - there's a newly Arisen, and so it is my duty to guide you until you get your own pawn," he was scratching his head. "This is most strange."

"This riftstone isn't working, and I can't find Scorpio," Lena looked at Rook with worry. "And I am not the Arisen, my heart is still in my chest."

"Once an Arisen, always an Arisen," Rook dismissed her argument. "This riftstone is only peripheral, not guaranteed to work. Let's try the encampment."

...

"Well met, newly Arisen! Can you hear our voice?" Lena received the standard greeting when she touched the riftstone on the encampment. "Pray, prove your valor now!"

"What?! Bloody Legion with their bloody tests!!!" Lena's dagger was about to shatter the riftstone when Rook caught her hand.

"Don't," he restrained her. "Not until you get Scorpio back." Lena sighed and relaxed. "Come on, there should be a monster in need of slaying here somewhere..."

A cyclops slain and goblins scattered, Lena returned to the riftstone. She touched it, and this time she was offered to select a pawn.

"Scorpio," she said.

"Are you sure?" The voice sounded doubtful. "This is your chance to pick someone else!"

"Scorpio."

"Still that one, is it? As you like..." The voice sounded deeply disappointed. Scorpio stepped out of the Rift.

...

"But what is going on?" Lena was looking at Rook and Scorpio in turn. They returned to Cassardis and were sitting in Pablo's inn.

"You are back, cousin, that's what matters most," Pablo was putting more and more food on the table. "And your pawns with you. The dragon can come back anytime, I don't care, for you'll slay him again. I have faith in you, cousin!"

"The dragon was supposed to be gone for fifty years though," Lena squinted at him. "I don't understand." But Pablo just shrugged - he didn't understand it either, and didn't care, besides.

"I would ask aught of you, cousin," Benita rushed in. "I need those flowers... Oh, hello, Rook!" She blushed, just only noticing Rook and Scorpio at the table. "Err... the flowers... you know, the ones you collected before... for the medicine..." She couldn't take her eyes off Rook for some reason.

"Sunbright and moonglow, yes," Lena patted her hand. "I remember."

"Right, I'll see you later then," Benita nodded, still looking at Rook, then turned around and dashed out of the room. Lena looked at Rook, he too was blushing.

"Umm... Is there something we need to know?" Lena said softly.

"Not yet," Rook shook his head, and Lena didn't insist.

...

"So, let's review," Lena was having the hardest time getting her head around what happened, separating dreams from reality. "The Everfall is a portal, a complex series of portals in fact, Ok, I can live with that," she pulled a grape off a bunch and put it on the table. "There are many worlds similar to Gransys, all connected to the Everfall, and you pawns can travel between them. The space in between is known as the Rift." Another grape went down.

"The Rift is then actually the same as the Everfall," Scorpio ate her last grape.

"Mmm... No, not the same," Lena plucked another grape. "The Everfall is a portal to the Rift, how abou that?" She put the grape down.

"All right," Scorpio inclined his head. "We pawns travel between those worlds, but Arisen cannot do that, so you never meet other Arisen." He picked a grape and put it down.

"Except the ones that are in this world already," Lena objected, but didn't remove his grape. "Like the Duke, the Dragonforged, Selene's Arisen, Barroch on the Bitterblack Isle..."

"Yeah, the ones that have given up," Rook nodded. "But not other Arisen who are still chasing the dragon."

"But what happens if, say, Barroch all of a sudden decides to go after the dragon?" Lena raised her eyes to both of them.

"He can't."

"Impossible."

"I disagree," Lena shook her head. "It's unlikely, yes, but not impossible. And obviously you don't know of any such occurrence," she grinned.

"All right, skip that." Rook plucked a grape and ate it. "What about that duel with the Seneschal? You fought him, killed him, became one yourself, then killed yourself. Who is the Seneschal now?" He plucked a grape and held it in the air.

"No clue," Lena shook her head. "No one?"

"The Legion will have put someone there to replace you," Scorpio looked dubiously at both of them. "Because the dragon is back, and if you go through with it all again, you'll be back in the Rift, and there must be another Seneschal there to face you."

"But the Seneschal doesn't do anything," Lena was getting very confused. "What is the point of his existence?"

"To make you stop asking questions, perhaps," Scorpio smirked. "It worked for a while, too."

"Hmm... We are not getting very far with this," Lena looked at the very short string of grapes that they had laid out on the table. "I killed the previous Seneschal upon his own request with his special sword, but if he always had that sword with him, why did he not just kill himself already? Like I killed myself afterwards?"

"Because killing yourself is not easily done, perhaps?" Scorpio took her hand. "You are an assassin, he wasn't."

"I am an assassin, true," Lena nodded, playing with the Arisen's Bond on Scorpio's finger. "But that doesn't explain why I am still alive, and he isn't."

"D'you know, I had the strangest dream..." Scorpio gave her a long look. "When you stabbed yourself... Or may be it wasn't a dream, I am not sure..." He paused for a moment, then continued. "The misty chamber we were in, turned into a portal - the floor vanished an we were falling, you and I, or rather, your dead body and I... Like falling through the Everfall. And I felt as if... Now, this is really weird..." He paused again, and blushed. "I felt as if my body was transforming into yours... I was becoming a girl... Err..."

"Finally, your true nature reveals itself!" Rook erupted with laughter. "I always knew you were..."

"I am no such thing!!" Scorpio looked very angry, but of course he could see it was a joke.

"Bestowal of spirit is what it was," Rook said quietly. "You were supposed to look like your Arisen, but in your case it was more than just a change of hairstyle."

"But bestowal of spirit presumes that the pawn is an empty vessel, ready for the Arisen's spirit to enhabit and to modify," Lena mused. "It might have worked with Selene, but I'd rather say it didn't work, because she still couldn't make any decisions of her own afterwards... Show me your pawn print," Lena said suddenly, turning Scorpio's palm upwards. "Still here." She sounded releaved and disappointed at the same time.

"If it had gone out, you would not have been able to find me in the Rift," Scorpio pointed out. "When you killed yourself, my pawn bond to you was released."

"Which is why the Legion had said I could pick a different pawn," Lena nodded and grinned. "Fat chance!"

"But I still don't understand why you have been resurrected," Rook picked another grape and ate it. "If you were such trouble for the Legion to begin with, why bring you back?"

"They didn't..." Scorpio said slowly. "Wolf was supposed to be dead, or at best her spirit was supposed to live out its life in my transformed body. But I resisted..."

"You execised your will," Rook said softly.

"My pawn bond had been released, but not the Arisen's Bond... Its magic is indeed most powerful."

"Not its magic," Rook shook his head. "It was your own doing. Your will. You brought her back."

They sat silent for a while, taking in the full meaning of it.

"If a pawn who exercises his will, can defy death itself, I wonder what else such a pawn can do?" Rook mused, looking out into the street, watching the locals go about their business, Benita among them. What else indeed.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The events described in this and the previous episode are the actual events in the game - this is the path you have to take to unlock New Game+. It isn't called like that in the game itself, but this is a feature common to many games - the story is restarted from the beginning, but you keep your character, skills and inventory as it was at the end of the previous game. In Dragon's Dogma, a few other things are carried over as well.

Except that the story does not add up. This is the biggest gripe of Dragon's Dogma fans with respect to the story: the ending shows the "bestowal of spirit" happening with your pawn effectively becoming you: he's got your body, your soul and your love interests... err... something is wrong here... Other questions remain, such as who is now the Seneschal since you killed yourself, and why the world of Gransys is once again the same as it was before. In this episode I tried to offer my own explanation in order to link it all together. In my mind, time does not get "rewound" to the beginning, but instead we have the second coming of the dragon.

This is the first time I am playing NG+ because this is the first time I managed to avoid the problem of an incredibly overpowered character in an unleveled world. This time I have mods.

4th Era, Year Unknown - The second coming

The events followed an eerily familiar pattern. Olra stood on the pier in Cassardis at night calling Lena to explore the Bitterblack Isle. A hydra attacked the encampment, but retreated once one of its heads was cut off. Ser Mercedes from a neighbouring duchy was back, leading the men of the Enlistment Core, and once again she insisted on taking the hydra's head to the Duke as a tribute. "He will want to know of this attack," she said. "And the head will serve to convince him that yes, once again it was a hydra." She was young and ambitious, but she was making sense. She blushed recognising Lena, but made no mention of some embarrassing events from the past, even though her attitude was visibly changed.

"The Duke is well, I trust?" Lena asked and Ser Mercedes nodded. So, the curse was lifted, it seemed.

"He'll try to have you killed again," Scorpio said in her ear. This was to be expected, after all, who was to say that Lena wouldn't take the dragon's bargain this time around?

...

Gran Soren had been rebuilt! The citizens were back in their original homes, or at least in new buildings where their original homes had stood. No one seemed to mind, and everyone was praising the Duke for rebuilding their city so quickly. "Overnight, can you imagine?" People were saying, attributing all the glory to the Duke.

"How are things here?" Lena greeted Barnaby, the pawn in charge of the door to the Everfall.

"The Everfall had been quiet after... you know," he shuffled uncomfortably. "It closed again as soon as you jumped in... Then the hole in the city was covered and the buildings restored overnight." Barnaby sounded a bit surprised. "Made me realise that what we... I... do here at the Pawn Guild, is not guard the Everfall itself, but just the door to it. Oh well."

"Do you ever go in at all?" Lena squinted at him.

"Err... we don't normally, no," Barnaby admitted. "We dust the riftstone, at best." He patted the riftstone. "If I might ask aught of you, Arisen..." Lena smiled, she thought she knew what was coming. "We felt tremours again. Would you go and check what is going on?"

"Sure, why not," Lena nodded. "I know what to expect."

...

"The light is back," Lena informed Barnaby when they returned from the Everfall. "We were chased by the tentacles again, it's a gazer, but the gazer itself wasn't there. Nothing you can do about that," she shook her head as Barnaby was about to say that they would redouble their efforts in guarding it. "Now that I've seen it, the gazer won't show up until I kill the dragon again," she assured him. "You'll see."

"So you are going after the dragon, are you?" It was Barnaby's turn to squint. "Why? You still have got your heart, don't you?"

"I do," Lena nodded. "But I have other business I wish to discuss with him," she answered evasively. This time Lena wanted a portal to Tamriel.

...

"The dragon cannot transport you to Tamriel," Scorpio objected when they left the Pawn Guild. "You know that, right?"

"Yes, but he speaks for the Legion."

"I don't think it'll work."

"We'll see."

"Hmm."

"Having the last word does not mean that your will is stronger," Rook observed, shaking his head.

...

"Scarlet!!!" Lena rushed at a girl in the lightest of heavy armours with an impressive cutlass on her hip.

"Excuse me?" The pawn turned around - it wasn't Scarlet.

"Oh, sorry," Lena apologised. "Thought you were someone else."

"That's all right, Arisen," the girl smiled. "If you ever need anything else, do not hesitate to let me know," she winked, walking away.

"We'll find her, give it time," Rook said quietly. "Have you tried searching in the Rift?"

...

"Ser Maximilian will be glad to see you," Scorpio smiled at Lena after she was once again presented with the Wyrm Hunt License. "Especially after what happened with that attempted arrest."

"Erm... How did you know?" Lena squinted at him and blushed a very deep red.

"Someone saw you," he said evasively. "But not to worry, I'm bound to you again, whatever you do," he winked.

What Scorpio was alluding to, was not the day when Lena went to see the Duke and got accused of witchcraft. It was true that Ser Maximilian and his men of the Ducal Guard did not manage to arrest Lena then, but it wasn't for the lack of trying. They chased her to the edge of the Everfall, surrounding her on all sides and cutting off every possibility of escape... except into the Everfall itself. Lena jumped, setting further events in motion.

When she returned to Gran Soren later, the guards in the city had no quarrel with her, but then again, they did not belong to the Ducal Guard either. She wanted to speak to Ser Maximilian though, she felt it was important, but wasn't sure why... Important to herself, perhaps. She fancied the man, yes, but there was more to that than a mere attraction.

One evening Lena went to the castle. Of course as soon as she entered the walled part of the city, she was set upon by the Ducal Guard. Ser Maximilian appeared, but Lena dashed through the lowering castle gate into the castle grounds, and there into the dungeons. The castle was largely devoid of guards, and she was hoping to find a quiet corner to talk. Her gamble paid off - the dungeons were not only unguarded, but following a familiar route through a hole in the wall in one of the cells, she ran out of the city walls altogether.

"What the..?" Ser Maximilian saw the hole in bewilderement, realising that it had been there for a very long time. However, he continued chasing Lena until they stood on large rocks that formed the foundation of Gran Soren, looking out into the sea. The path that used to run along the city wall, had collapsed, and there was no where further to go. "Aha!" He exclaimed. "In the name of the Duke, I hearby arrest..."

"Stop," Lena said softly, shaking her head, and put her finger across Ser Maximilian's lips. "There's no one here."

"My duty does not end with the city walls," Ser Maximilian objected, but didn't continue.

"I know," Lena nodded. "Which is why I wanted to tell you a few things. Come, let's sit down."

They talked for a quite a long time. Lena told Ser Maximilian of the events in the Tainted Mountain Temple, first with Salvation ("Salvation, again!"), then with the dragon. She told him of the dragon's bargain, and he was gobsmacked.

"It is bizarre, completely out of this world," he shook his head. "The Duke's duel with the dragon was such a long time ago... No one alive was even born when it took place. Of course we all assumed that the dragon greatly increased the Duke's longevity..." He shook his head again. "And he did, in a way..."

"Point being, the hole in the middle of Gran Soren is not my fault," she looked at him and smiled. "And I did not curse the Duke, nor do I want his throne."

"I couldn't believe that myself," Ser Maximilian nodded. "But the Duke has been good to us, he has been good for Gransys all these years... and I am sworn to uphold his word."

"I understand," Lena nodded too. "But you also do not stop to use your brain. You understand the tasks of the Wyrm Hunt now, don't you?"

"Designed to capture everyone's attention and try to get you killed in the process," he smirked. "Clear as day. But understandable. Damned politics! That's why I joined the Guard and not the Court..!"

"Against your family's wishes, I hear," Lena thought she read it in his expression. She'd heard some talk, and now it seemed it was true.

"My family..." He smirked. "I am sharing quarters with mere soldiers and fraternising with an assassin... of no noble descent, I presume..." He smiled and took her hand. "It would have been the talk of the entire Guard, if not for the destruction of Gran Soren... That night at the Greatwall Encampment... we weren't exactly discreet." He kissed the palm of her hand.

"Assassin... not in Gransys," Lena shook her head. "How did you..?"

"I saw you fight, didn't I?" He grinned, sliding his hand under her jacket and retrieving a box of poisoned shivs. "You are a dangerous woman."

"To some, more than to others," Lena smiled, removing her weapon belts.

What happened next, made no logical sense, yet it felt right to both of them.

...

"When did you learn of that?" Lena turned to Scorpio, her face still fiery red.

"Soon after it took place," he said. "Someone made it a point to make me aware of your 'outing'."

"Yet you said nothing, and still came when I called for you in the Rift." Lena came close to him, looking into his eyes. "You kept the Arisen's Bond too. Why?"

"This isn't a wedding ring," he raised his hand with the Arisen's Bond on his finger. "This isn't that kind of a bond. I can't explain it... but it holds, I know. Perhaps time will tell. It hasn't matured yet."

Me? As in, me, personally? I'd choose some sort of mercy. Maybe keep the traitor locked up, or somesuch. But it's never really up to me; it's up to the characters in the story. That's the roleplay way!

Uh oh. Night Mother has spoken. Wow, what a punishment. That's actually worse in a way than death. Every time she sleeps, she faces judgement. Bravo, what an outcome!

Here now

True, but you are the one writing the story. Anyway, the Night Mother is not known for her merciful nature.


In some of the conversations between the members of the DB or possibly conversations of others about the DB, it is alluded that exile means facing the Wrath of Sithis every time you sleep. At least this is what I remember. Not just once as it is done for the player, which is ridiculous. So Rayenna gets the standard punishment.

4th Era, Year Unknown - Release

"So it's true, the dragon is back and you are still the Arisen," Ser Maximilian smiled, greeting Lena near the castle grounds. "I've got tasks for you... err... rather similar to last time," he grimaced. "But duty is duty, so here you are." He handed her a list of tasks. "Are you still..."

"...going after the dragon?" Lena finished his sentence. "Oh yes. See you around, Max."

She gave him a quick wave and he blushed.

"Max?" Scorpio grinned.

"'Ser Maximilian' is rather long, don't you think?" Lena grinned back. "It will be easier going this time, now that we know what the tasks are all about."

"Staying alive."

"Precisely."

...

Lena wanted to confront the dragon in order to demand a portal to Tamriel. Demand, ask, beg - whichever, as long as it worked. She intended to grab Scorpio's arm and pull him in with her as well - she wasn't losing him again. She didn't know if it would work, or if Scorpio would object... She ignored all such concerns for the simple fact that she needed that portal first.

"The dragon doesn't go about burning the countryside as soon as he arrives," the old woman at the textiles shop in Cassardis shook her head when Lena said she wanted to force the matter and face the dragon right away. "You won't find him now. He sleeps first, gathers his strength. For how long? Who is to say..."

"So, how will I know when he's ready?" Lena furrowed her brow.

"You'll know," the old woman smiled. "You are the Arisen. He'll tell you, just like last time."

"How do you know all this..?" Lena was perplexed. She never told anyone, not even Scorpio, that the dragon could talk to her inside her head. But the old woman seemed to know it somehow.

"Faith knows," she inclined her head. "All anyone needs to do, is listen closely to their sermons and prophecies. It's all there. And I am an avid church goer," she smiled.

...

Back in Gran Soren, Lena was behaving strangely. She chased people down the street, picked them up, even threw one person off a parapet and into the river... He wasn't seriously hurt, but Lena got promptly arrested anyway.

"Back again?" The jailer grinned, recognising her from her previous stays. "Well, you know the drill: 5000 gold coins will buy you freedom."

"I don't think so," Lena shook her head, turning to the rats for bits of wood and bone to make a lockpick. Once she was out, her belongings would be returned to her - such were the rules.

And once out, she continued behaving badly.

"Don't!" Scorpio stopped her once or twice when she attempted to grab another person. But she pulled out her daggers and took a swing at a citizen, missing him by a long mile, but still earning herself a trip to the dungeons.

"What is wrong?" Scorpio held her by the shoulders when she was out again. "You are not yourself."

"I am," Lena's eyes looked empty. "I just... umm... You just haven't seen this side of me so far."

"What side?" Scorpio squinted. "This isn't the assassin at work, the vampire at feeding or the wolverine on a hunt, not the fury incarnate or the reckless adventurer delving into every cave without thinking... It isn't even the cornered Arisen jumping into the Everfall. What side of you are you talking about? You are no petty thief or town troublemaker."

Lena didn't answer. She slumped her shoulders and walked away, avoiding Scorpio's gaze. She was back in the dungeons by nightfall.

...

"What's gotten into her?" Scorpio was saying to Rook with worry, waiting for Lena at the dungeon exit in the sewers. It was once again locked from the inside. "Why these senseless arrests? She is making a nuisance of herself on purpose. D'you think she is possessed?"

"By what?" Rook smirked. "A rebellious teenage spirit? Don't be silly."

"I don't understand," Scorpio shook his head in desperation.

"I think... hmm... it looks like she is trying to shake you off," he squinted at Scorpio. "To make you dislike her... but why, I am not certain."

It's been several days, but Lena wasn't leaving the dungeons. Scorpio started to worry that she might have gotten herself into some real trouble this time, for she would not have been held that long for a petty offence. He decided to ask around.

"Criminals are held for a few days, then either executed or released," a guard told him. "That's the law. Your girlfriend's offences don't warrant an execution, so unless she keeps re-offending while locked up, she should be out by now."

"She's not my..." Scorpio started, then dropped that argument, deciding to focus on a more important issue. "How can she possibly commit another offence while being locked up in the dungeons?"

"She can insult the jailer," the guard shrugged. "Or pick the lock of her cell, or attempt to escape, or brawl with other prisoners, or... hmm... plenty of ways to get re-arrested."

...

"And that is for requesting a bribe," Lena was kicking the jailer as he was rolling on the floor of the dungeons, offering no resistance at all. "And for hitting me on the head with a rock... for not giving me any food... for stripping me naked while I was knocked out... for..." She paused. "Why aren't you resisting?"

"You're not wearing boots, which is why we strip all incoming prisoners naked and have them wear prison rags," he didn't seem to be in any pain. "And lack of food keeps you weak. I'm not interested in any part of your person, apart from your purse. And you can't hurt me 'cause I'm wearing armour," he grinned. "Oh, and we confiscated your shivs."

"Hey, Jacob! Need any help?" Another guard was looking in through the bars at the top of the stairs. "This one seems angry..."

"Nah, she just got her fine doubled," the jailer suddenly got up and pushed Lena back into her cell, locking it again. "She'll have to eat eventually, and I know she's got money."

...

Several more days have passed, but Lena was not coming out of the dungeons, not escaping and not getting released. Scorpio was seriously worried. "Something's not right," he kept saying. "That's not like her at all." Finally he decided that desperate times required desperate measures.

"Good morning, Ser Maximilian," he walked up to him when Ser Maximilian had a few moments free. "I know I'm not supposed to... but could I please have a word?" Needless to say, pawns were forbidden from talking to officials.

"Ser Arisen not with you?" Ser Maximilian looked around and squinted. "What's the matter?"

"It's about her," Scorpio didn't know how much time he had before the guards would drag him off, so he decided to be blunt. "She's in the dungeons... and not coming out. The back door is locked and I can't get to her... you know how it is. We're not allowed into the castle."

"And you want me to check on her," Ser Maximilian smirked. "Well, if the Arisen chooses to be a public nuisance, there's nothing I can do..."

"Please."

"Hmm..." Ser Maximilian looked around and lowered his voice. "It's not like her, granted. But I can't just leave my post. I'll go at night. Wait for me by the aqueduct exit outside the city walls... you know it, don't you?"

...

"Is there a problem, Commander?" Ser Jacob the jailer peered at Ser Maximilian through the bars. "We are not with the Ducal Guard."

"And I am not on an inspection," Ser Maximilian smiled at him - he had no jurisdiction in the dungeons. "Rather... err... I wondered if you could see it as a personal favour."

"That depends..." Ser Jacob twisted the strings of his coin purse. "What did you have in mind?"

"I would like to speak to one of your prisoners," Ser Maximilian casually produced a purse from his pocket and held it in his closed hand. "The Arisen," he smiled again. "She is supposed to be doing tasks for the Wyrm Hunt, but instead she is lodging here with you."

"She has several fines outstanding to her name," Ser Jacob leafed through a ledger.

"By all means," Ser Maximilian nodded. "I am not asking for her release. Just to visit her here."

This was enough for Ser Jacob to raise the bars and let Ser Maximilian in, who accidentally dropped the purse he was holding. Ser Jacob busied himself lowering the bars again and making sure no stray objects were left lying on the ground...

"Come with me," Ser Maximilian pushed the door of Lena's cell, realising that it wasn't locked.

"No," she backed off against the wall.

"Now." He stepped towards her, intending to grab her arm and lead her out, but she leapt forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him until he started struggling for breath. "You can thank me later," he grinned. "Let's go."

"No."

By that time Ser Jacob was finished with the bars and started walking down the corridor towards Lena's cell. Ser Maximilian couldn't understand why Lena insisted on staying but felt it was the wrong thing to do, and remembering how she had picked him up and carried him from under the feet of a raging chimera, he now did the same, picking her up and carrying her out of the cell, just before Ser Jacob turned the corner. Their previous chase through the dungeons was still fresh in his memory, and he now silently thanked whoever dug out that hole in the wall... With another cell unlocked with his master key, he dashed to it, still carrying Lena over his shoulder.

"Now, explain." He said decisively, putting her down in one of the dead ends of the barred off section of the sewers. "You could have gotten out any time." But once again, Lena wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, cutting off his words and offering no explanation. As much as he was enjoying it, he knew that something was off. He lifted up his lantern to have a good look at Lena's face. She looked gaunt, her skin turned grey with a tinge of green, her bloodshot eyes had yellowish mucus around them, her lips were cracked, her hair matted and missing in places... "What have you done to yourself?!" He exclaimed in horror.

"It shouldn't take much longer," Lena smiled. "You are too late, Max." She let go of him and dropped to the floor, scattering spiders and snakes, and only smiling when one of them pierced her leg with its fangs.

"What?!" Two swings of his sword cleared the place of vermin, but the lantern was now illuminating Lena's body as well. Her legs and arms covered in poisoned bites - small festering wounds left by repeated visits to the section of the sewers they were in. "How long?"

"A week, ten days perhaps," Lena smiled. "With no food... it won't be long now. The poison isn't strong, but..." She seemed to be getting tired from speaking alone. Even weak poison from spiders and snakes could kill, if repeatedly re-applied.

"But why..?!"

"Scorpio was right," she made another effort to speak. "The dragon will not grant me passage home. My staying here is trouble for all. You can do better than romancing me... Scorpio can do better than being bound to me... This is the only way to truly release him... I am an Arisen no longer, I still got my heart... The Legion cannot force him... He'll have his life back..." She closed her eyes and passed out.

4th Era, Year Unknown - The Arisen's Bond

Commander of the Ducal Guard Ser Maximilian Eizenstern was seen leaving the castle dungeons by the door to the sewers, a limp corpse of a prisoner hanging over his shoulder. A few pairs of eyes squinted but no heads turned, as the people who dwelled there, were long used to various guards disposing of dead prisoners by carrying them out the aqueduct gate and throwing them into the sea. No one recognised the Arisen in that dirty corpse of a female with bloated legs and arms covered in festering warts.

Sir Maximilian pushed the bars of the aqueduct gate and stepped onto the rocks outside, looking out into the sea. The night was dark, with very few stars showing through the clouds, the waves were crushing onto the rocks. "Ideal," he thought, getting a grip on the corpse over his shoulder.

Two men without lanterns stepped out of the darkness. One quickly took off his coat spreading it on the rocky ground, the other started intoning a spell. Ser Maximilian nodded and put the corpse down.

"Poison," he said, and his words were drowned out by the sea. "She is very weak."

"Who did this?" Scorpio clenched his fists, having laid Lena on his coat and checked her pulse.

"She herself," Ser Maximilian shook his head. "I was too late... She stalled me, too," he blushed uncomfortably. "Before I realised what she had done. We must save her."

"She's got a lot of poison in her blood, infection too," Rook shook his head, casting spell after spell. "I can keep her alive for a while but she needs conventional healing. And even then..."

"You must try," Ser Maximilian squeezed Scorpio's wrist. "She said something... I didn't fully understand... She thought the dragon's second coming was her fault somehow, that she brought it onto Gransys... She said the dragon would never grant her passage home, that you were right, and that she had to release your bond... Her thoughts were all of you."

He fell silent. The only light and sound on that desolate rock was from Rook's incantations, and even that was swallowed by the crushing waves and gathering fog.

"Here, take this," Ser Maximilian handed Scorpio a polished ferrystone. "Fournival saw us talking this morning, put two and two together... She's got friends, you know. Take her to Cassardis, I'll forward on your things..."

They sat in silence. Scorpio opened his palm, his pawn print was all but extinguished.

"This is what she meant," he smirked with sadness in his voice. "Release my bond to the Legion. Her death would grant me life, would end my immortality... I would be a pawn no longer."

Rook's healing spells made the droplets of fog sparkle with soft greenish light.

"We should go," he said, putting away his staff. "We'll do all we can," he turned to Ser Maximilian. "Thank you. Letting go is never easy."

"I like her... a lot," Ser Maximilian nodded to Rook, then turned to Scorpio again. "I don't think I could have done much better than romancing her... Her words, those," he hastened to add. "But her bond is to you." He touched the Arisen's Bond on Scorpio's finger and the ring shone with warm golden glow.

They shook hands and Ser Maximilian stepped through the aqueduct gate back into Gran Soren proper. Rook tossed the ferrystone into the air, there was a flash of light and the night swallowed all.

...

Weeks passed, may be months. Lena was lying in bed on the top floor of Pablo's inn in Cassardis, her eyes were closed, her breathing regular, she was asleep. Scorpio was brushing her hair. Benita brought another vile of medicine, Rook was casting another spell. Lena just wouldn't wake up.

The first few days were hectic, with Rook and Scorpio scouring the woods for medicinal herbs and fungi, but at least it gave them something to do. After that all that was left was to wait. "She'll wake up when she's ready," Benita would say every passing day. "We've cleared the toxins, closed the wounds, there's nothing left that would be ailing her body... but her spirit needs healing too."

...

"She did this for me," Scorpio was sitting by her bed, holding her hand, stroking her hair. "But I never wanted to lose her... What's the point of a life if it's not shared?" He twisted the Arisen's Bond on his finger, the ring filled with warmth. "The magic in this ring..."

"The magic in this ring responds to your heart," Rook entered the room and pulled up a chair. "I've read this some place. Doesn't this bond represent what you hold most dear?"

They sat in silence for a while.

"You've been a pawn for too long, my friend," Rook put his hand on Scorpio's shoulder. "I, too. We pawns are condemned to loneliness till the end of times... No bond can last us a lifetime, for our lifetime has no end... And so we avoid all bonds, so as to spare us the pain of separation. Mortals are not like that. And I for one intend to try their way. Do you think she'll like this?" He suddenly produced a golden ring.

"Benita?" Scorpio smiled. "I don't see why not... Except that of course you are a pawn."

Rook left and Scorpio remained seated by Lena's bed, watching her sleep.

...

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered today to celebrate the union of this man and this woman..." The priest gave a broad smile and the congregation cheered. "The first in Gransys, I daresay... But the scriptures do not forbid it!" He beamed with joy at them all. "And thus it is my honour and my privilege to bless this marriage and to pronounce you husband and wife!"

The village chapel erupted with applause, cheer and laughter, flowers were thrown into the air and dancing commenced in the streets.

The top floor of Pablo's inn was quiet, with only some sounds of music coming in through the windows. "Rook and Benita are getting married today," Scorpio was saying to Lena, stroking her cheek as she slept. "I miss you so... Come back to me... This pawn needs his master..." He smirked at the canonical phrase. "No... this man is missing his bond..."

He took her in an embrace and kissed her like he never had done since that one night after they faced the dragon. They had a bond, yes. A bond strong enough to bring her back from the dead, yes. They were close, very close, but except for once, not in that way... Why not? What was he afraid of? A force of habit... he'd been a pawn for too long.

...

The weeks that followed were no different from the weeks that came before, except for the fact that Rook and Benita no longer needed to keep their love under wraps. Rook was a pawn, so what. He was their resident healer, and between his magic and Benita's herbs, no one in Cassardis ailed with anything for long.

Quina came to see Lena most days. "First the dragon steals her heart, and now this," she would shake her head. "Oh cos... I wish I knew what to do." She'd sigh, talk to Scorpio for a while, bring a new herb or flower from time to time to make the room more cheerful. "You don't know when she decides to wake up. We must make sure the room looks nice when that happens," she'd say with a smile. Like most villagers, she accepted the wait like people accepted rainy days, always knowing that the sun would appear again sooner or later.

Rook's wedding gave Scorpio a lot to think about. Pawns did not age, and so inevitably Benita would grow old while Rook would not. Then Benita would die but Rook would go on living... Would he marry again in another land? Was that worth the pain? "That's the pain that I am suffering now, with Wolf's spirit gone from her body," Scorpio realised one day. "Except that this is worse, for our bond is incomplete."

...

Lena was the Seneschal. She dwelled in a chamber covered in mist, looking down onto a world she did not know. She saw a village, a town, a city; it reminded her of Gransys, but Gransys it was not. A dragon descended onto the land, picked an Arisen; Lena knew what would happen next, if that Arisen survived long enough and didn't give up half way - a tall order indeed. Centuries passed, no Arisen challenged her reign. Lena felt empty. Her heart was beating evenly inside her chest, nothing ever causing a stir. She wasn't bored, she felt no pain. She felt nothing at all.

Sometimes a fleeting thought would make her wonder whether something was missing... whether someone should be with her... But then she would look into the mist of her chamber and shake her head. No. This was her cross to bear, and hers alone.

A cross? Or a ring? A tablet? Confusing images would rush through her head sometimes, but vanish before she could capture the meaning.

It was like a dream.

"A ring, definitely a ring," an image appeared long enough for her to see it properly. "A magical ring, too, look how it glows," she smiled to herself. "Was that mine?"

She saw herself flinging the ring into a far corner of a cave, behind some rubble. "If I cannot give it to the one I choose, it is of no use to me," she heard herself say. Her hand touched another person... Who was that? The image vanished - she couldn't recall.

Days replaced nights in the world below, life went on as before. Another dragon descended upon the land, another Arisen was chosen, another link in the endless chain was forged. How far would this Arisen go?

An Arisen entered Lena's chamber. "Greetings," she said. "I have tests for you." "Tests?! Insolence!!", was the Arisen's reply. "Ah, an angry one," Lena thought.

Yet the Arisen failed the test, failed to see that the shadows of friends that Lena had conjured, were just that - shadows. The Arisen went with them. "Ah, that's the end of that cycle," Lena thought, turning away. How many more times would that play out until one Arisen came close enough to remove the ice from her chest, the blade that could grant her oblivion... "The blade is not a blade, it is a piece of ice bracing the heart," she pressed her hand to her chest but felt no pain.

...

Lena was peering into the mist - was that another Arisen? Did she miss a dragon descending onto the world? She couldn't recall, there had been so many. The person approached, raised his hand in a greeting, a pawn print shining bright on his hand. "A pawn, here?" Lena was surprised, her heart skipped a beat. "What was that?" She saw a ring on the pawn's finger glowing with a golden light.

"My bond is incomplete," said the pawn. "We are close, so very close, you and I, yet not close enough. I've always held back, kept that last wall up, that final safe space for myself... But no more. Come what may. I miss you. I want you back." He stood quite close to her now, so close, she could feel the warmth of his body even without touching. She liked his face... but who was he? She could not remember.

He took her hand and put it around his waist. That felt familiar... the scene with flinging away the ring rose before her eyes. But... who was he?

"I never wish to lose you again," he said, taking the ring off his finger and putting it onto hers. "May the bond now be complete." He kissed her, her heart skipped a beat, he pressed his hand to her chest and pulled out the Godsbane blade. He threw it to the ground and it shattered into tiny shards of ice. Lena woke up.

...

"Aye!" Lena sat up with a jerk, a sharp pain in her chest making her cry out.

"Sshhh, I'm here," she heard a familiar voice, felt familiar touch.

"I had such a strange dream..." She put her arms around Scorpio's neck, responding to his kiss.

"It wasn't a dream," he said in her ear. "But no more ice, I promise."

She felt the warmth of a ring around her finger, she saw Scorpio's ring still on his finger too, glowing with a golden light.

"How..?"

"The Arisen's Bond has worked its magic. The rest is up to us."

For me that doesn't matter much. It's all about what my folks want.

Ah, so Lena has also faced the Wrath of Sithis as well. So she knows, by now. Did she know Rayenna was hunting her that whole time?

That's neat. Lena and Lucien are playing in the water. Killing slaughterfish, too.

Here now

In my story (as yet unwritten) Lena and Lucien were both exiled for a long time during that dreadful business with the traitor. Lucien was suspected to be the traitor and Lena was exiled for refusing to purify the Cheydinhal Sanctuary. Of course once they found the real traitor, the exile was lifted. This is what I'm alluding to here. I've got a large mod in the early stages of development that completely revamps the second half of the DB questline from the point of Purification, and this story is one of the possibilities. This also explains why Ungolim is still alive and still the Listener as before.

Lena didn't know it was Rayenna behind the attacks, but she did have her suspicions. It only became certain when they caught Rayenna.

4th Era, Year Unknown - Come what may

Lena had been asleep for several months, immobile in bed. Her body had long recovered from poison and starvation that she had inflicted upon herself; her blood was free of toxins and her skin free of festering warts. Yet when she finally awakened, she found herself barely able to walk - her strength failed her.

"But what do you expect, cousin?" The villagers would tell her. "You've been abed for months! You've got to take your time to rebuild your strength!"

When she was finally strong enough to walk and run along the beach in Cassardis, she insisted on going straight to Gran Soren. But barely out of the village they ran into some goblins and then into some wolves, and if it wasn't for Scorpio attacking everything in sight, Lena would not have survived any of those encounters. Eventually she had to agree that perhaps some basic training was in order.

And thus, half a year or more had passed since the night when Ser Maximilian carried her out of the Gran Soren dungeons hanging over his shoulder like a lifeless corpse.

"Ser Arisen? Wolf?" Ser Maximilian had to look twice, but the slender woman with a bow and daggers was indeed Lena, finally back in Gran Soren. "You gave us a fright," he grinned, squeezing her in a hug - he was no longer worried of rumours. "Ah, let the tongues wag," he shrugged. "I'm just glad you're back. Don't do that again!"

"I won't," Lena grinned. "Not like that..." She broke off. "I am an assassin, remember?" She winked. "Taking lives is my trade. Next time I won't fail."

"Well, if you insist on taking lives, I've got a job for you," Ser Maximilian looked serious. "Salvation is back, and they are making a nuisance of themselves again. Skeletons and things... You remember, I trust?" He looked up and Lena nodded. "It's probably going to be a repeat of the previous affair, but could you go after them again? A good scare would bring the populace under control, even if the chief zealot slips away." He paused. "And if you find sensitive information... Come to my quarters in the barracks at night," he smiled and blushed slightly. "You will be seen, and they will all assume that we... you know. No one believes that you could prefer a pawn." He looked at Scorpio standing a distance away facing in the opposite direction. "But I know better."

"I'll come when I've got something," Lena hugged him and planted a kiss on his lips in full view of the surrounding guards. "Since you don't mind the rumours," she grinned. "We've got to do it right. See you later." She waved and walked away, with Scorpio following.

"Salvation again?" He asked and Lena nodded.

Their next stop was the Pawn Guild. Barnaby greeted them inside.

"Business with the Guild, Ser?" He made a wide gesture at the riftstone. "You are also welcome to hire any pawn walking the streets, as you well know. But I must warn you: pawns have neither will nor emotions, even if it sometimes appears otherwise. There can be no closeness with a pawn. Beware, Ser, lest you get disappointed."

"Err... thanks," Lena muttered, turning around to leave.

"Your pawn serves other Arisen as well," Barnaby added after her.

"He isn't lying about that last bit," Scorpio said somewhat uncomfortably. "I am in service with you, and can therefore be summoned to walk with other Arisen for a time, just like the pawns here."

"And?" Lena had an idea where that was going, and didn't like it.

"And... well... I've had a lot of women," he said with some finality in his voice. "Some not that long ago, either. Best you hear it from me."

"Hmm."

They stood in front of the inn, and Lena decided to postpone that conversation until they had some privacy. They entered and she asked for the key to their room.

"A fellow would think there are plenty of real men in this city," Asalam looked at her, his brow furrowed. "If it's closeness you wanted, several suitors were asking after you. I wouldn't say no myself," he grinned. "There's no need to resort to their kind," he looked at Scorpio and scolded.

"What..?" Lena was perplexed.

"I'm just saying," Asalam smiled pleasantly at Lena. "Pawns are for fighting. A lovely young lady like yourself should look for company among her own kind. We have feelings, they don't!" He added with defiance.

"Err... I'll see if I can find lodgings elsewhere then," Lena said coldly, taking her key. "Lest my choice of company should offend the sensitivities of the gentlemen of my kind."

Lena was fuming. Her private affairs were no one's business! She even forgot about Scorpio's confession for a moment. But just for a moment. However, the short walk to their room was enough to cool her head.

"All right, let's review," she dropped into a chair when they were alone. "Barnaby warns me against closeness to you, while Asalam warns me against intimacy with you, but why? How is it any of their business?"

"You forgive me then?" Scorpio looked up at her.

"For what?" Yes, she did forget about that for a moment. She so wanted to forget it and never remember. "Oh... yes. I don't like it, and I'm very jealous, but I think someone is trying to make me jealous on purpose right now... which is why I choose to ignore it." She sighed. "Our bond still holds, whatever you do. We are bound by bigger things."

"And someone is trying to break that bond," Scorpio nodded, visibly relieved.

"The Legion."

They fell silent. Scorpio got up and poured them drinks.

"You don't believe that rubbish about will and emotions," he handed Lena a glass and she nodded. "But it is true that you can normally never get close to a pawn - we resist that. I have resisted that all this time, that's why I never... except after the dragon..." He sat down and took a sip of his drink. "We forged a bond so early on, you and I, a bond of friendship, we've been so very close... add intimacy to that, and the bond would be complete. You would have gotten close to a pawn," he smiled. "Of course, now you have."

"And someone doesn't like it," Lena mused.

"Consider also, that when there is no bond, intimacy has no meaning either," he smiled thinly. "I never betrayed our bond... but I could have controlled my flesh better."

"By Sanguine!" Lena exclaimed, laughing.

The conversation turned light for a time, then Lena furrowed her brow again.

"So Asalam is working for the Legion," she said grimly.

"They had to be spying on us to know that we... you know."

"Well, it's not like there are no holes or splits in that door," Lena smirked. "Or someone could have simply told Asalam to say those things. He didn't seem to have heard of me and Max," Lena added, blushing a bit. Then a thought struck her. "Say... who told you about me and Max last time? Because, you see, in order to have seen us, they would have had to be flying... or else to have come from the Everfall..."

Scorpio laughed bitterly. "Barnaby. Spared no graphic detail, either. You had a lantern there, he had a perfect view. Apparently, you take off your weapon belts first..." He looked at her and winked. "Or else the fellow is your target."

...

Salvation was animating skeletons at night along the roads around Gran Soren, sometimes even very close to the city walls. Salvation sorcerers would gather in large groups of ten to twenty people and cast spells in unison, reinforcing one another. It wasn't easy to fight them. Many of them would run off too, to return another night. Lena tracked them down to the catacombs again, witnessed another massacre of the undead, but Salvation did not stop.

"This is all small fish," Lena was recounting the events to Ser Maximilian on one of her nighttime visits to his quarters in the castle guard barracks. "Even Lord Julien is small fish. Even Ilysius, that one-eyed chief zealot with his proclamations of the ultimate truth being the dragon... He's just mad."

"But he's the one inciting the people to join the cult, so he's dangerous," Ser Maximilian objected. "If you can remove him, it would help."

"He will just get replaced by another equally mad zealot," Lena shook her head. "I'll try of course, but I don't think I can get close - he uses teleportation."

"All right, what of Lord Julien?" Ser Maximilian squinted. "He is in charge of the Northern fortifications."

"He wants to overthrow the Duke and to rip up the ancient pact between Gransys and the neighbouring duchies that requires them to send help when the dragon strikes."

"What?!" Ser Maximilian exclaimed a little too loudly, but quickly caught himself. "That's treason!"

"Yes, but he isn't going to succeed," Lena smiled. "Or cause anyone any significant harm. Small fish."

"But my duty..." Suddenly Lena jumped off her seat, threw Ser Maximilian off his chair and onto the bed and landed on top of him in a rather suggestive pose. The door creaked - someone was peering in. "What?!" Ser Maximilian raised his head looking at the door - he heard it too. "Can't you see I'm busy?!" He barked at it.

"So sorry Ser Commander," a small voice replied. "Didn't realise you... hehehe... had company... hehehe... Ser..." The door was pulled shut and they heard the sound of small feet running away.

"That damned jester!" Ser Maximilian swore, getting up and walking to the door. "Men!" He half-opened the door, standing in the doorway unclothed from the waist down. Several guards looked up, some stood to attention. "I want no more interruptions!" He barked. "That damnable jester is not to be permitted in! And I don't care that he's got the Duke's leave to come and go wherever he pleases! My orders are from now on to keep him away from my quarters!" His face was red, he looked very angry. "Is that understood?"

"Yes, Ser! As you command, Ser!" There was a shuffle among the guards - no one was keen on making their Commander angry, for whatever reason.

"All right, that'll buy us some privacy," Ser Maximilian turned to Lena, having closed the door. "What did you do with my pants?"

...

It wasn't easy to navigate castle intrigue, but the rumour of an affair between Ser Arisen and Ser Maximilian became more than a rumour after their stunt at the barracks, with the jester alluding to it for the amusement of the court and the guards swearing of having witnessed their Commander "in action". "It is amazing what a little suggestion can do," Lena would grin to herself every time she was at the castle. Their "affair" afforded them a perfect cover to keep exchanging information for the good of Gransys. Ser Maximilian's sworn fealty was to the Duke, but he felt that his true allegiance should be to the people, and in most cases it was one and the same. The Duke had been good for the people, regardless of how he got his throne, he was far better than many of his predecessors, and for Ser Maximilian that was enough.

"If you should kill the dragon again," he said to Lena one evening. "Don't come here to see the Duke, for it will be my duty to try and arrest you, or may be even kill you on the spot," he looked straight at her. "Our affair has a downside - I am no longer seen as an impartial force."

Neither of them realised at the time just how many more years this was to be going on. Salvation, as any cult, could not be fully rooted out, treason was never far away, but people grew used to the monsters, and all in all, life continued, the dragon stayed silent and Lena wasn't sure what to do next.

...

"Perhaps I should just give up?" She looked at Scorpio as they were walking through the woods without any particular purpose. "Settle down in Cassardis, live out my life? Would you stay with me?"

"Of course I'd stay with you!" He pulled her close. "But would you give up your home? Your friends back in your world? The other piece of your soul?"

"The other piece of my soul..." Lena felt a sharp pain in her heart. "I don't... I can't even... How did you know?" She stopped, facing him.

"I can feel it," he smiled. "We have a bond. You have another bond, it is just as important, or more... It was there first, anyway. Without it, you are incomplete."

"But you... still let me get close..."

"You see why we avoid bonds," Scorpio smirked. "Arisen die or move on, we remain. Those pawns that had gone mad in the Everfall or on the Bitterblack Isle, they had allowed their Arisen get too close, then could not survive the loss of that bond. But you mortals are different," he paused, then resumed walking. "You form multiple bonds in your lives, bonds that are often cut short by the death of the other person, you grieve for a time, then go on living."

"Some people can't, just like those pawns," Lena objected. "We aren't that different at all."

"I could not stand the pain of separation when your spirit was gone from your body," he said in a hoarse voice. "The pain was worst because I had never let you get close... I don't know if that was what was driving those pawns, but for myself I knew I had to get you back and let you in, no more walls, let the bond be complete. Then... come what may."

They stood by the witch's cottage, the old home of Selene and her Arisen, now empty.

"You should not give up your other bond. You should look for a way home. Pursue the dragon. Jump into the Everfall. Explore the Bitterblack Isle. Whatever it takes."

"I won't go without you." Lena put her arms around Scorpio and pressed her cheek to his chest, listening to his heartbeat. "The other bond... He..." Another pang of sharp pain went through her heart. "He is my Speaker... my master in our order... I could never..." She swallowed back tears. "I would not dare."

"You are my master," Scorpio said softly, taking her in an embrace. "It doesn't matter. But the time has to be right. It took me that long, perhaps you just need more time." He kissed away her tears. "I'm with you... before and after... come what may."



22 Sun’s Dawn, 4E203, Shivering Isles

"And then you vanished!" Lena poked Scorpio in the chest. "What kind of a promise was that? You said you'd stay with me come what may!"

"I said: before and after," he smiled. "How many years did we spend looking for a way to get you back here? Quite a few. That was 'before' - before you could get home. And now I'm back with you again - this is 'after', after you made it back. It took me a while to find you, sorry about that," he grinned.

"So you always knew you'd have to vanish to get me home?" Lena stopped, facing him.

"No, I didn't, if I had known it earlier, I'd have done it earlier," Scorpio shook his head. "We couldn't find a way out, remember?"

"Face the dragon, hear his bargain - he was ready to send me home, but I had to give you up. No deal. Find a dragon in the Everfall, hear the same bargain. No. The same with the dragon on the Bitterblack Isle. No again. The Seneschal - no deal. The Legion really wanted to keep you," she sighed.

"And they have," Scorpio raised his hand, his pawn mark clearly visible. "But you died to them when you jumped off that cliff, and so they can no longer recall me."

"But what about when I really die?" Lena pressed her hand to Scorpio's, a thin band of gold glowing around her finger, touching his own Arisen's Bond. "Will you get your life back then?"

"My life? I've got it back already," he smiled. "The print doesn't bother me, and immortality has its perks... Our bond has started as a bond of friendship, it is a bond of friendship once again. True intimacy once shared, never goes away - I think your husband knows that."

"He does," Lena smiled and kissed him like before. "For the old time's sake."

They walked the roads of the Shivering Isles waiting for Dylan to be reborn. Dylan - another of Lena's bonds, her Mazken friend who fell in the battle of the second Greymarch.

"You were right about us making multiple bonds," Lena was thinking of several people who were close to her. "But every bond is different, and not every bond is equally strong or equally deep. Dylan, for example..."

"Dylan is your dear friend, it is plain to see," Scorpio interrupted her before she could say something stupid. "A playmate, too. Am I right? But you mean to him more than he means to you."

"You are probably right," Lena sighed and blushed. "I am ashamed of myself..."

"Don't be. Such is life," he shrugged. "I had to give you up in part as well - what did I say: come what may. The bond still holds."

"And Hauk..." Lena caressed her heavily pregnant belly. "The child is his, I can feel it. He is my best friend, and we are very close... But we each have another bond that means more... Oh gods... I made such a mess of my life..." She rolled her eyes. "But I wouldn't change a thing." She held Scorpio's hand as they walked, and the glow of their combined Arisen's Bonds illuminated the path before them.

"And there's another," Scorpio smiled. "Of a different kind."

"Sanguine," Lena nodded. "The lover I can never refuse... How do you know all this?" She squinted at him.

"I have a piece of your soul," Scorpio said simply. "Quite literally. I am and always will be your pawn."

They came to a campsite with a breathtaking view of the foggy hills of Dementia. They cleaned off the blood and the dirt of whatever took place there before, and settled down for the night. As Scorpio started unpacking food and drink for their supper, he asked, quite casually: "What happened in Albion? Tell me about it, Dumpling," he grinned.

"Ha!" Lena laughed. "That is a crazy story! I grew so fat on all the pies, they started calling me Dumpling! I lost weight after a while," she added with an embarrassed smile. "I was married... five times... six perhaps? Wasn't supposed to, you understand, just didn't care... It was wild..." She laughed. "Westcliff, Bloodstone... Liqueur, blood, sex, all to excess... Like being back in New Sheoth with Sanguine at the helm," she smirked. "But scary too. And brutal at times. And they had him - Sanguine - can you imagine? They captured a Daedric Prince! They were sapping his magic... He may be a drunk, but he's still a Prince, and he's got powers like any other. But he was drained, subdued..." She fell silent, looking grim.

"You saved him," Scorpio offered.

"I was saving a mage whose help we needed to stop a disaster," she nodded. "A mage of remarkable power. Of course when I saw who the mage was, I knew just how much danger that world was in. I got him out of that prison and he could have left, but he didn't. He stayed and played the part of the mage in our party. Incredible. He wasn't even drunk at times..." She smiled at the memory, then furrowed her brow. "I had to make a terrible choice in the end... Take the least bad of three awful options... Without Sanguine, I would have never returned."

Nice. You really are building something here. I make a stories through the use of quests and dialog, but you are making an entire world.



I see.

This episode is a fairly faithful recount of Fable 2, as seen through the eyes of Lena Wolf.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


23 Sun's Dawn, 4E203 - Albion

"It was another portal," Lena started telling the story of Albion to Scorpio, the fog of Dementia floating low over the ground. "We weren't partying at the time, Sanguine had been gone for a while and calm had returned, serenity even. I touched something... the New Sheoth palace is a dangerous place. The next thing I knew I was falling from a tall tower..."

"Splat," Scorpio grinned.

"Yeah, you weren't there to catch me," Lena grinned back at him. "I must have lost consciousness, because I woke up some time later in a wagon in a gypsy camp. A blind woman greeted me, said I had a destiny to fulfil..." Lena shook her head. "The dog was nice though."

"Dog?"

"Apparently I had a dog. And I fell from that tower some fifteen years previously. Seriously? And the dog was still alive? He didn't even look old..." She rubbed her chin.

"Magic."

"But you see how I was not inclined to believe anything she'd say?" Lena looked up at Scorpio, her head resting in his lap. "Still, I had to figure out where I was and how to get back, so I listened to her explanations. Also, she could talk in my head..." Lena shuddered.

"Like a certain dragon."

"Like a number of Daedric Princes, too! What is it with everyone wanting to be inside my head?!" Lena frowned, then continued. "Anyway, it seemed that the reason I fell out of that tower was that someone named Lord Lucien Fairfax decided to take over the world, to which end he needed to destroy four individuals with extraordinary abilities, of whom I was apparently one. So he shot me and my older sister, she died but I fell out of his tower. And survived. Which proved conclusively that I was the actual person with those extraordinary abilities, because only such a person could have survived that fall... Does that make any sense to you?" She looked up at him from below, but Scorpio only smiled.

"Yes," he nodded. "I always knew you were different."

That wasn't the answer Lena was hoping for, so she continued.

"Well, the first order of the day was to find the 'Hero of Strength' and to recruit her. She was a particularly muscular young monk belonging to the most pacifist religion you could imagine... And I had to recruit her to fight a great evil! Ha!" Lena scoffed. "And pigs can fly."

"But you succeeded," Scorpio brushed some stray hair out of Lena's face. "How?"

"By provocation of vengeance," Lena blushed. "Not nice. Their temple got attacked while she and I were away fetching some holy water, and when we got back, we could just witness her adoptive father being murdered. I had the feeling it was a setup... It left such a bad taste in my mouth that I was ready to say a few things to the blind gypsy woman and just leave her fight this Lord Lucien Fairfax on her own."

"Leave and go where?" Scorpio squeezed Lena's hand - he guessed what was coming.

"Exactly," Lena frowned. "I swallowed my principles and stayed in the hope of finding a way back once that Lord What's-His-Name was defeated. The gypsy woman was the key, and she would not have let me leave until she got what she wanted."

"I see where liqueur and sex comes in," Scorpio nodded.

"Well... There was a lot of smaller stuff going on as well, you understand," Lena smiled to that. "Not all bad, not at all. The people there were generally easy going, quite a few oddballs among them... Quite fun, in fact. Bowerstone was a solid middle-class city with proper solid middle-class people in it... Most of them... Err... Some of them..." Lena grinned. "Anyway. The next task was to find the 'Hero of Skill' who was a dashing fellow with particular mastery of guns. You've been there - you know what guns are, right?" She looked up at Scorpio again and he nodded. "Right. Nasty loud things, glad we don't have them here," she grimaced. "But effective for ranged combat, although give me a good bow, and I'll get the job done quicker, quieter and without fuss."

"And that fellow was in Bloodstone," Scorpio prompted her.

"Yes. You remember the town?" She grinned. "Unbelievable. Was there anyone there who was not a prostitute? I doubt it. And the fellow I was after, was the self-appointed mayor!" She snorted.

"So you indulged yourself," Scorpio grinned too.

"Well, it isn't often that you walk into a town where the entire population is 'open to experimentation' and tells you so, is it? I had my fun. But it wasn't going to get me that fellow's help, oh no, he wanted some real favours. He actually wanted my soul."

"Wow."

"Yeah." Lena paused. "Turns out, he sold his, or leased it at least, and the time for repayment was near, so he sent me in his stead. The deal was to keep paying them souls for his continued luxurious life."

"But you survived," Scorpio squeezed Lena's hand again - he did know her very well.

"Yes," she nodded, looking grim. "I sacrificed an innocent soul."

"Innocence is life's greatest illusion..."

"I know, Brother!" Lena cried and sat up, her eyes hard on Scorpio's. "It wasn't the same! We take lives, yes, but there's always a reason. It takes a lot of money and determination to contact the Dark Brotherhood. People don't do it on a whim! And even if not all of the lives that we take actually deserve it... it still isn't the same! The soul I sacrificed had been specifically picked for her innocence. That was the point. Besides, they took her soul, not just her life."

She turned away, looking into the distance. They were sitting on the deck of a raised campsite platform, the fire had died down, but the embers were still giving off enough heat to keep the chill of the night at bay. Scorpio moved closer to Lena and put his arms around her until she relaxed, pressing her back against his chest.

"When I first realised you were an assassin..." he said into her ear. "Remember? At the Union Inn in Gran Soren. We'd had a hard time fighting harpies and wolves that day, bandits too, our wounds were deep, you filled a bath tub with ice, stripped and submerged... Then made me do the same. 'Modesty is a luxury we cannot afford,' you said... Then offered to release me if your occupation went against my morals." He kissed her softly. "No one talks to a pawn like that. You saw a person in me, not a pawn. Yet I still saw an assassin..."

"But you refused to be released," Lena ran her fingers through his hair.

"That was one cold bath," he smirked. "You were challenging every established order. Of course I had to stay. Sometimes you have to do what you have to do. What would have happened if you chose to spare that innocent soul?"

"They would have taken my soul instead," Lena said softly. "Even Sithis would not have been able to get me back."

They sat quietly for a while, in a close embrace, memories of many difficult choices running through their minds. "Your husband will have to forgive me," Scorpio breathed in her ear, his kisses getting hot.

...

The sky in the East was turning golden with sunrise when Scorpio threw some fresh logs onto the embers awakening the fire. He brewed coffee and handed Lena a cup. "Another campsite, another morning," he smiled. "Shall we stay here today? The best part of your story is still to come, I feel."

Lena wrapped her hands around the warm cup and let her memories flood in.

"The mage, or the 'Hero of Will', was the most difficult member of the party to recruit. He had been kidnapped and imprisoned by the very Lord Lucien Fairfax that we were supposed to fight. The reason for it was that Lord Lucien was building a huge tower just off the coast of Albion, the design came from some old texts and was important in itself. The top of the tower would have a special contraption to focus magical energies, and with that he would control the world. Destroy it first, most likely, then control what's left over," Lena smirked. "That was the disaster that had to be prevented, and to do that we had to halt the construction of that tower. Problem was, Lord Lucien already got himself a source of magical energy that he wanted to harness - Sanguine. Or rather, to start with, we just knew it was this incredibly powerful mage, the 'Hero of Will'. He was being held in the very tower they were building, and in order to get to him, I had to join thousands of people working there - I had to become a slave. It was clear to us that it was nothing but slavery, but the people actually thought they were getting a pretty good job with generous wages... Trouble was, no one ever returned from that job, and no one knew what was going on inside. There was even a competition or a test you had to do in order to be accepted, can you imagine?" Lena shook her head.

"Make something hard to get and everyone will immediately want it," Scorpio nodded. "Clever."

"So when I inquired about getting a job on that tower, I was told that all positions had been filled and unless I could prove that I was truly capable, they could not be bothered... I had to become a gladiator, and if I survived and became the Grand Champion, then perhaps Lord Lucien would consider me suitable to work on the construction of his tower!"

"Ah, the 'blood to excess' part," Scorpio squinted. "Isn't it? I didn't think you were referring to regular adventuring."

"Yes, it was pretty brutal. Not only did I have to survive, but I had to be artistic in my slaughter!" Lena scoffed. "The opponents were mostly beasts, but there were a few groups of bandits as well - 'mercenaries' they called them. Well, they never got their wages." Lena sipped her coffee. "And the worst part - you had to do it all from start to finish without rest or pause. It was a series of arenas, there'd be a weapons trader here and there in between, but otherwise you were supposed to keep going. Ten or fifteen fights, several rounds each... Boethia would have approved. Not many people came out at the other end. Your rank was determined by your score - how fast, artistic and entertaining your performance had been! I had to try several times before I became the Grand Champion, that is beat the previous high score."

"Several times going through ten or fifteen arenas with several rounds each?" Scorpio couldn't quite believe it.

"Yes," Lena nodded. "Blood to excess it was."

Lena sipped her coffee for a few minutes before continuing.

"But that was still nothing compared to what came next. I went to see about the job at the tower and was reluctantly accepted. I was to board a ferry along with some twenty other new recruits which would take us to the tower. Suddenly the gypsy woman appeared and told me to make sure I had all my affairs wrapped up before going, as I might be away for a long time. How long? She would not say, but insisted that absolutely all affairs had to be wrapped up, that I should visit each of my spouses and each of my lovers and say good-bye to them all... That didn't sound encouraging, I must admit."

"How long?" Scorpio froze with a pot of coffee in his hand.

"Eleven years."

He shook his head without a word and refilled their cups.

"All prisoners... err... workers were fitted with collars that cut magicka flow and could administer shocks as punishment. The overseers controlled the collars, and punishment was administered freely and without limitations due to minor ailments like death. The overseers themselves wore such collars too, controlled by their overseers, and so on. In order for me to be able to move around the tower and try to find the mage, I had to move up the ranks... Which meant administering a lot of punishment, both on the orders of my superiors and on my own initiative. The initiative was necessary to increase rank. If I had been told in advance what was expected of me, I would have stuffed that gypsy woman onto the ferry in my stead and found the tallest tower in the land to jump out of... As it was however, stuck on Lord Lucien's construction site, the choice was to move up the ranks and hope to find a way out, or take punishment for breathing and perish. No one ever left that tower alive, did I mention that?"

Lena fell silent, coffee getting cold in her cup. Scorpio moved close to her and put his arm around her shoulders.

"This is far worse than even the Bitterblack Isle," he said softly. "If you don't want to continue the story, then don't."

"And miss all the good bits?" Lena smiled through the tears. "Let's just skip the rest of my time on that tower. Suffices to say, that I eventually advanced far enough in rank to have access to the secure cells where Sanguine was held. Of course I didn't know at the time it was Sanguine, I was just looking for a mage. I would recognise him by his markings - bright coloured marks on dark skin, lesions left by excessive use of magic, I was told. What I saw was a dremora with scorched red markings on his dark skin, dull red eyes and broken off horns."

"Dremoras don't quite look like that, I thought..." Scorpio tried to recall what a dremora would look like - they were very rare on the Shivering Isles.

"Of course not!" Lena exclaimed. "He was drained... He wore another collar that was draining his magic and transmitting it to some contraption... He is a Prince! He has vast reserves of it, he regenerates all the time... But it looked like they were sapping more than he could regenerate. In a word, as long as that collar was on, he wasn't going anywhere, even if he could withstand the pain they would punish him with. And the same went for me."

Lena paused, looking into the distance.

"I found the keys to the collars... Don't ask what I had to do for it..."

Scorpio didn't ask. Lena was squeezing the hilt of her Sufferthorn and her hand was bleeding where the nails dug into the flesh. After a while she continued.

"Once our collars were off, every single guard aimed to kill us. The first few that we killed, provided us with weapons, for neither of us was in any condition to cast spells... It was a long and protracted battle. We wore clumsy suits that made stealth impossible, we had to stand and fight every time. Eventually Sanguine regained enough magicka to teleport us out of there... Didn't I say he was a Prince?" Lena smiled at Scorpio's surprise. "He opened a portal and we stepped through it... but alas, it didn't take us very far - we stood on the shore opposite that tower. But then the gypsy woman appeared, and this was the one time when I was glad to see her! She opened another portal and whisked us away..."

"And let me guess - your dog was still alive," Scorpio smiled.

"Yep," Lena nodded. "The longest living dog in Albion..."

"What happened to all your spouses and lovers from before? Was any of them still waiting for you?"

"No," Lena shook her head. "That could have been my own fault however - they've had enough time to learn about one another and to file for divorce," she smirked. "And I couldn't care less."

The sun was almost in zenith, and most of the fog had cleared away. Soft greens and browns of the landscape before them looked almost idyllic, if it weren't for the warped roots of the mushroom trees and long streaks of tar hanging off the branches. Yet they found the view peaceful and comforting.

"The gypsy woman wanted us to go after Lord Lucien as quickly as possible, but I simply refused. If she thought it fair to lock me away in that tower for eleven years, she could now wait for me until I regained my strength. Until Sanguine regained his strength, too, for his wounds were far greater. I still don't know if she never understood who he really was, or whether she just kept it to herself. At that point or soon after Sanguine could have left, but he didn't."

"So you took your time to recover," Scorpio added some logs to the fire and started a fresh pot of coffee.

"Yeah..." Lena was musing. "I'd never seen Sanguine like that... We found a farm in a quiet village and simply spent our days not doing much of anything... No liqueur, no blood, no excess. The Prince of Debauchery was the most laid back person you could imagine."

"Perhaps you've had enough of excess for a while."

"Perhaps..." Lena nodded. "But then of course we got interrupted. Lord Lucien got quite annoyed with us for removing his source of magicka - Sanguine - and he tried to recapture him on several occasions. Lots of fighting followed, lots of hostile magic... But we never saw our evil Lord face to face, he always sent his Commandants to do the actual fighting. I wondered why."

"Did his name bother you?" Scorpio asked suddenly.

"It did at first," Lena admitted. "But it's just a name. I came to realise pretty quickly that it was an entirely different person. And then, when we finally faced him... Well, he stood there, an old scholar, a man grieving deeply the death of his wife and daughter. He drove himself to insanity... He was no threat to us in a fight, it was the tower that was the source of the danger. Our 'Hero of Skill', the man with a gun, shot him dead."

"That's a rather anticlimactic ending to such a gruelling tale!" Scorpio exclaimed in surprise.

"Yes, it was," Lena nodded. "With Lord Lucien's death, the tower he was building magically collapsed... I find it extremely suspicious myself, you know. And then I had to choose the future for that world."

"The three terrible choices."

"Choose love, and all those I loved would live, but everyone who died while building the tower would remain dead - that's thousands of people. Choose sacrifice and all that I loved would die, but the people would be resurrected. Choose money, and I'd just get rich, with everyone dead. The worst choice of all," Lena smirked.

"When you say 'everyone you loved', whom do you mean exactly?" Scorpio froze again.

"I don't know," Lena shook her head. "Was that just about the people in that world or did it mean everywhere? I wasn't of that world, and neither was Sanguine, I took one look at him..." She sighed. "And stabbed myself through the heart."

"Again."

"Again," Lena's voice sounded hollow. "I took the fourth option. There is always another way."

The afternoon entered its golden hour and the rays of the setting sun were turning the fog of Dementia into a golden mist.

"I woke up on a peaceful island, it was late afternoon or early evening, like now. Waves were gently rolling onto the sandy beach, fire was crackling, a faint coffee aroma was floating in the air. Sanguine was lying next to me, massaging my heart. 'Don't do that again,' he said. 'I am not a healer.' But he was."

Lena's doing one of Umbacano's latter quests, I see. Still never finished those quests. But that's a good reason to eventually go back to OB, right? I do remember there was some mishmash going on with the Collector quest, too. Some decisions to be made. Looks like Lena decided to take from the Collector. 🏆

Do Lucien and Hauk know about each other, in the sense that they both share the affections of the story's protagonist? I kinda sense not, eh? Wonder what would happen if...



See, doesn't seem as though they're knowledgeable. Or maybe one knows, but doesn't really care.



Ha! My Joan of Arkay does this exact same trip! Except she never seems to have enough money for an entire month's supplies! Usually, a few days' rations are more like it.

Whoa, she just took down Umbra!

Here now

This was the first time I did that quest as well. I think I went to Malada before, but never all the way to the end... At least I don't recall. No, I would have remembered. It was really really really really really really hard! Did I mention it was hard? Those undead were just unbeatable... Yeah, the Royal Guard. Of course we got them in the end, but at what cost!


I am not going to say anything to that, you'll see. Life doesn't come with all the answers written up at the back of the book either. They know, as you've seen here, and yet there isn't any jealousy going on... Perhaps they don't care, or perhaps they care too much? Or may be... Well, you'll see. Lena is very much in the dark about it, and so should be the reader!

Glad you're enjoying it so far.

4th Era, Years of Confusion

As Lena kept being pulled into portals that led her into other worlds, time progression in her life was getting more and more confusing. The years she lived seemed to run in parallel to the years passing on Nirn, which was one of the reasons she stayed away. Although many people she knew were sufficiently long-lived to breach the gap, seeing them suddenly aged half a lifetime when only a few years had passed in her own life, was more than unnerving. "Stay away from Nirn" had been Lena's solution, even though it smacked severely of the tactic of large prairie birds that she'd read about in a book - apparently, when danger was approaching, they'd bury their heads in the soil, although not being able to see the danger hardly made it go away...

For the benefit of the readers however, we shall try to establish a timeline relative to the passage of time on Nirn.

With the conclusion of the Oblivion Crisis, the 4th Era had begun. During this time Lena was a vampire, and trouble was brewing in the Dark Brotherhood - there were rumours of a traitor, with the events around the Purification of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary soon to be set in motion. This would take a few years, ending with the memorable night in Bravil that was an intensely private affair for Lena and Lucien, and unless either of them decides to share it, we won't by prying. After that night, Lena disappeared to the Shivering Isles where the Greymarch was slowly gathering strength. The exact dates of these events are unknown.

In some ten or twenty years that followed, Lena found a cure for vampirism and defeated Jyggalag, thus ending the Greymarch. She became the sitting ruler of the Shivering Isles, Lord Sheogorath, while the Prince was away undergoing the transition from Jyggalag back to Sheogorath. It should be noted that time passes differently on the Shivering Isles, so this period didn't feel to her like twenty years - it felt a lot shorter.

After the Greymarch Dylan joined Lena in her explorations of the Shivering Isles and became a trusted friend. At some point he took her to the Mazken Wellspring that restored Lena's appearance ruined by the cure of vampirism - after the Wellspring visit she no longer looked like an old woman but instead looked like her youthful self, never to age again.

The next hundred years or so were mostly spent in other realms, with the most notable and lengthy stays being Gransys and Albion, in that order. In Gransys Lena met Scorpio, but then lost him again with her return to Tamriel. Albion came some time after, taking another twenty years of her life and forging her bond with Sanguine. How much time had passed on Nirn in the meantime, is unknown, but that was the period when Lucien almost lost hope of seeing Lena ever again appearing in his fort, so it must have been a very long time.

Some time around 4E160 Prince Sheogorath returned to the Shivering Isles and Lena returned to Nirn. She found her property confiscated and her house in Bravil repossessed, for the feeble reason that she had missed the Imperial Census more than a few times and was suspected to be dead. She found the news extremely distressing, boarded a ship bound "elsewhere" and left Tamriel with the intention to never return. The ship was bound for the Northern Realms, yet another world where Lena would spend some time. She met Geralt there, learned that he was her brother, but when the war in that world turned it upside down, she decided to sail back to Tamriel. Another bond forged and left behind, it seemed.

While Lena was away in the Northern Realms, Tamriel was fighting a war of its own - the Great War with the Aldmeri Dominion raged between 4E171 and 4E175. Iver and Hauk Serck-Hanssen were just twenty years of age when it began, twin brothers and Imperial battlemages. They were drafted to fight the war, Iver on the front lines and Hauk with the Special Forces division to act behind enemy lines. Being a Nord, he was sent to Skyrim where he spent most of the war. He met a woman there whose husband had run off a month after the wedding, yet she gave birth to a son in due course. It was impossible to say whether the boy's father was her runaway husband or indeed Hauk, but Hauk was the one who kept coming back to her and the boy when his Legion duties permitted. She died some twenty years later.

Hauk and Lucien met for the first time during the Great War as well. The Aldmeri Dominion considered it a merciful thing to do to employ an assassin to quickly end the lives of their agents who got captured by the Imperials, and Lucien was sent out with just such a contract. Sending a Speaker to kill a weak and defenceless prisoner was a wise choice - it wasn't the prisoner who presented a challenge, but his inquisitor, and Hauk, or Animal as he was known in the Legion, had made a name for himself by then.

That meeting followed by several others, until towards the end of the war the Empire had need of its best and most loyal citizens to infiltrate the Aldmeri Dominion itself, and Hauk and Lucien found themselves on a ship to the Summerset Isle on a mission that forged their bond for the rest of their lives.

Around the year 4E195 Lena was finally back in Tamriel. Her house was still not her own, but with her status restored from "dead" to "living" in the Imperial Archives, she could breathe easy. Meeting Geralt in the Northern Realms and learning that she had a brother, brought back what memories of her childhood she still possessed. She did not remember her mother who died when Lena was just four years old, and she never knew her father, although it seemed that the bond between her mother and father had been strong. Lena's adoptive grandmother knew who they were, the bond had been real, and there was a reason why her father was staying away. But it wasn't the time to reveal those details yet. Lena's grandmother died when Lena was just sixteen, and all that she knew was that some day, when the time was right, she had to go to Skyrim for answers. So, her father was a Nord... but beyond that, she knew nothing.

Lena decided that that "some day" had come and went to Skyrim. She didn't have any particular purpose there, and it wasn't her first visit either, but she had a peculiar feeling about it. One thing led to another, and Lena discovered that she was Dragonborn. She also discovered that Geralt arrived in Skyrim after too much turmoil in his own life back in the Northern Realms. With her head spinning, Lena returned to Cyrodiil.

These chronicles start at about that point. Lena met Hauk soon upon her return, and they quickly became close friends, spending much time adventuring around Cyrodiil. Lucien appeared in Lena's life again, as her Speaker and oldest friend, and later.... Well. It would be a futile attempt to try and summarise in a few words the tribulations of the soul, so we won't even try.

...

Back in the years before the Great War, Lena and Sanguine were lying on the warm sand of one of Sanguine's islands upon their return from Albion. Sanguine was massaging Lena's heart that she had pierced with her dagger some moments before, ending her stay in that world. Once again, death seemed the only way out, and Sanguine was not about to accept that.

"Don't do that again, I am not a healer," he said when Lena opened her eyes. "Your heart is working again, but only just. You mortals are too fragile for such adventures."

"How..?" Lena looked around, realising where they were.

"Teleport," Sanguine shrugged. "I wasn't going to try anything there, with all of them watching," he grinned. "My powers work best in my Realm, anyway."

"So you could have teleported out of there any time," Lena gave him a long look.

"Any time after you got me out of that prison," Sanguine nodded. "That damned collar... it was sapping away all I had."

"Then why did you stay?"

"Couldn't leave you behind," Sanguine shrugged again.

"You are not making sense," Lena shook her head. "Obviously, you could have taken me with you. So, why stay?"

"Well..." Sanguine coughed uncomfortably. "They were having a bit of a bother with that tower there, it seemed they could use some help from someone like me..."

...

Some time later Lena was fit enough to leave. As much as she treasured her time with Sanguine, she wanted to get back to the Shivering Isles, perhaps even visit Nirn again. Sanguine would never be far away, however.

"What do you see in mortals, My Lord?" A dremora from Sanguine's clan asked cautiously. "Their lives are fleeting."

"They are," Sanguine nodded. "But they fill them with passion, with strife, with love and care, jealousy and murder... Well, some of them. The boring ones don't interest me either."

"Hmm... And this mortal, that just left... She killed a lot of our kind in her time, yet you make love to her now. Why, My Lord?"

"They served Mehrunes Dagon!" Sanguine exclaimed and spit. "She deserves all the loving for killing that lot!"

"As you say, My Lord," the dremora said with a bow, not wishing to push his luck. Sanguine was known for his bouts of temper.

"If I may serve, My Lord," a female dremora approached, baring her breasts. "We will be here when that mortal is dead, why concern yourself with passing matters? What is your desire, My Lord?" She looked at him longingly, removing the rest of her clothing.

"I should banish you all to Oblivion for an epoch or two!" Sanguine exploded in anger. "My desire! You know nothing of that!"

"That was the wrong thing to say, sister," the male dremora pulled the female out of Sanguine's reach. "He isn't in the mood."

"He's never in the mood for us, what's all this stupid obsession with mortals?!"

...

Sanguine's temper vanished as quickly as it flared. He opened another bottle of Cyrodilic brandy, downing half of it in one swig. Mortals... mortals had to take their lives a day at a time and try to stay alive. They had no escape to Oblivion when the going got tough, they had no return when it overwhelmed them. They had the drive to make every moment count. "Not like this lot," Sanguine squinted at a group of dremoras a distance away. "They have no idea what life or love actually means..."

He snapped his fingers and teleported away to another island. The island of Everrest was quiet and empty, apart from the birds and the fish, the butterflies and the crickets. Sanguine entered a cave that was a burial crypt. Yes, mortal lives were fleeting, but he treasured every memory of the time spent with his lovers, past and present. Strong women, all of them, determined, wilful, driven and passionate, now lying at rest in this cave. Many more were buried in family crypts with their mortal ancestors, but those that felt they belonged no where, had a place on the Everrest. "They live in my memory," Sanguine smirked at the dremora's remark. "Dremora females have such lovely bodies and remarkably empty souls... Lorkhan really laughed at us with that. What a creation! No, give me the lesser bodies of mortals, for their spirit compensates amply."

Out of the cave, Sanguine sat by the water watching the sunset. The sun was always setting in his Realm, it was that magical time of day between the afternoon and evening. Why let it slip away when you can hold it still forever? It was his Realm, he was the Lord.

"What would Lena be doing now?" He wondered. "Return to the Shivering Isles, Sheogorath isn't back yet, so it's more of the same looking after the people business for her. Sheogorath really hit the jackpot this time... Why did we have to condemn him to this stupid cycle? Isn't order just another form of madness?" Sanguine shook his head, his thoughts returning to Lena. "She will return to Nirn, of course," he thought. "To the man she loves yet doesn't dare to love... She will go to his fort when he's not there, she will feel his spirit and imagine the rest... Talking about a sacrifice..." He shook his head again. "But why? Because they are not ready yet. Because love is not about holding, it's about setting free... Something that those dremoras will never understand." He sat quietly for a while, sipping his brandy. When the bottle was empty, he opened another. Brandy didn't have much of an effect on a Daedric Prince. "She will fall asleep in his bed... He will return, finding her there. He won't touch her, apart from perhaps a light kiss without waking her up. She is back. He will be patient until such time when she is ready to touch him with her eyes open."

How did he know all this? Sanguine knew mortals, and much of it was simply what he deduced. Some of it was what he gleaned from Lena's mind. He tried not to pry, but when she lay dead in his arms, he used the one power he knew would bring her back - the power of possession. He gave some of his life to her, he could see the world through her eyes, he knew what she was feeling and saw the feelings she denied to herself. He saw her memories, he understood what Lucien meant to her and she to him. "One day," he thought. "One day they'll face it. But not yet." Time proved him right, of course.

What a nice summary of Lena's many travels! Thanks! I chuckled over Sanguine's observations of dremora women vs mortal women.

Sure, that's fine. But yeah, as I intuited, it seems at least one of them knows. But it's a different universe than Earth is. Sure, some folks are able to sustain open relationships here on Earth, but they're few and far between. Maybe the social norms are different in Tamriel.

So now it is Sun's Height 9, Year 202. They are in Culotte. Full of rotten-smelling zombies. 👺 Yicch. Great pictures in this chapter. Hauk is making seared slaughterfish without a pan!

Oh wow, they're actually travelling with Umbacano. Didn't know he eventually comes along; I never got that far into the quest (yet).

Whoa, so Umbacano plays a trick! Gets some minions to try to defeat us, eh? Why am I not surprised? -- Thing is, all of this is spoilers for me but I don't mind. I kinda thought this is how his quests end up. And in a way teh spoielrs are good. This means Joan'll really have to prepare for this battle.

Here now

That depends on the choices you make earlier in that quest. This is how it played out for Lena, it may be different for Joan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A note for the readers: I am taking a bit of a break from the story at the moment because I'm busy modding again. The story will logically continue with Lucien Lachance going to Mournhold in order to try to prevent a war of assassins between the Dark Brotherhood and Morag Tong. To do this however, he needs his game fixed up. In the story he is already in Morrowind - we've seen him rescue Hauk from that fateful Nebula Manor with the ominous Club Dagoth. So Lucien is travelling South at the moment. We shall pick up the story from there in a week or so, I think.

Ah, was wondering where you went. I am up to 11 Sun's Height, 4E202 - Cheydinhal home. Lena's eating a cheese sandwhich, yumm. Just had one myself for lunch yesterday.,

I just read Traven is still alive and just banned summoning, and it's Year 202! This is intriguing. So Traven wants all battlemages to officially transfer to the Legion, Or else, it seems. Yeah, because he's a control freak.

They just met Delphine. The Blades need her help, which LW is not keen on. But Delphine's trump card: Help us and then you can learn about your father. Cripes. Wonder what that's all about. Lena + Hauk are about to head to Olav's.

I need to start writing the next 'prima. Sometimes it helps to read others' stories first; gets me in the mood, especially if I'm not actively gaming! 🧑‍🚒

I am here

Yes, well, Traven is alive in my game, the Mages Guild thing is just only going on here now. How did it happen? Who knows. But that's what we're at. I never completed it before, so it all fits.

Lena's father... yeah, she doesn't know anything about him, he's a mystery. So of course she's got to know, got to find out. You'll see. And Delphine is being her charming self, as usual.

Yeah, I'm still off modding. It's been a bit of a hectic time at work as well, so not feeling like starting a brand new game to play Tribunal DLC with Lucien. Rather make house mods and clean up stuff instead! Digital dollhouses, as my hubby calls them. So a bit of a break in writing.

Digital dollhouses, that's very true. It's like playing dolls, but on a much larger scale!

Wolf Asgarsen. So this was her father? 🐺 She doesn't seem convinced. I love the way each scroll and letter gets opened, one at a time. It's like, sort of dramatic.





And then in the next sentence it says Jeanne can levitate. Which is true, right? There are occasionally NPCs in the game which levitate. There are rare but they are there. This is due to glitches of course, but still.


http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?s=&...st&p=337824

Well, the name is certainly suggestive. Father's first name being Wolf, that name given as the last name to the child... May be. But it's pretty flimsy as evidence goes! It is a fairly common Nord name, after all. She'll need more proof, something more definitive.

Jeanne levitating... Well, I was referring to the Levitation magic from Morrowind, of course. Just because you forbid something, it does not seize to exist. But with it forbidden, Jeanne is not likely to let anyone know that she masters that particular art.

Right, Wolf is a common Nord name. Similar to "Jones" or "Smith" in English-speaking countries. Or "Gonzales" / "Gomez" / "Fernandes" to Spaniards. Still, I feel like Lena's on the right track.

As I understand, the addition of walled towns meant that we wouldn't be able to just float into civilized areas anymore, and the Levitation Decree (whatever it's called) was Beth's in-game way to explain this. I do like to pretend there's evidence that not everyone follows this doctrine during TES: IV though (NPCs floating / flying occasionally over the years due to glitches), and Jeanne being part of a rumor that she's ignoring this decree confirms this is so. At least, in a pretend sort of way.

Now. 15 Sun's Height. Lena's riding a paint horse. I've always liked the paint, even though they are the slowest (assuming that's not Blossom). Paints are easiest to navigate into rough territory, avoiding boulders and trees and such. Enemies who try to follow a paint into rough territory are going to have a tough time, assuming we can get them stuck behind obstacles which a paint to easily avoid/jump over. Black horses, with their higher speeds, are best for the open road / fields.

Hey, it's the Shrine of the Mudcrab! Hermaeus Mora, that is. 🦀

Oh nice. Lena allows Caranya to keep this amulet, away from Traven. Yeah, because the default Arch Mage isn't really all too trustworthy, in my opinion. And from Your perspective (as the player behind Lena) it's also remarkable that you aren't always choosing to go for the path which guarantees some combat. I am the same way. That could've been a pwnfest, adrenaline rushes and so on. The story is what's more important, though. The story is what Lena wants, after all, whether you see yourself as your character (as mirocu does, for instance) or not.

Drunken Dragon Inn's such a great place to find! As stated, there's a lair nearby to plunder, as well. If I recall, there's also a merchant in the inn to do business, but maybe that's just my mind... playing tricks on me.

http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?s=&...st&p=337902

I was rather thinking of it as a first name, and Lena's last name derived from her father's first name (or rather taken over in this case). It is a common Germanic tradition.


Paint horses are Nord horses - heavy duty farming and general work horses. Strong and hardy, if not very fast. I find speeds in Oblivion rather too high anyway, and like you say, a slower horse is easier to steer.


I am Lena Wolf. And I am not... still can't get that daedroth summon to work myself!

23-28 Sun's Dawn, 4E203 - Vampires

"But why, brother?" Lucien stood over the corpse of a Dark Brotherhood assassin who had attacked him in his sleep. Granted, The Eight Plates in Balmora was not a high security establishment, but still, Lucien had not expected an attempt on his life. A futile attempt, too, for the dead assassin didn't present much of a challenge. Lucien sighed and went back to bed - it was only three in the morning.

The owner of the inn didn't know anything about the attack, she shrugged it off and said that she would have the body removed, and would Lucien like to book another night? She assured him that he would not find a finer inn in all Morrowind... But somehow Lucien wasn't convinced. However, he still had business in Balmora and since there were no other inns in town... he booked another night.

The following night another assassin attacked him. This was getting repetitive, and Lucien decided to make some inquiries.

...

"Good morning, Master," Lucien entered Caius Cosades' house and closed the door behind him. Caius was awake, but not out of bed. "Please don't get up." He handed him his spoon and candle.

"What brings you here, Speaker?" Caius sat up once the burned sugar brought his vision into focus.

"I am here to prevent bloodshed, but it seems that someone objects. I've been attacked in my sleep twice already, by our own assassins, no less. Can you tell me anything of use on the matter?"

"I know of your mission," Caius nodded. "I hear the local chapter of your organisation is having a hard time winning contracts from Morag Tong, which is not surprising," he smirked. "Of course the locals prefer their own guild. Why set up shop in Morrowind at all?" He looked at Lucien with a question in his eyes. If Lucien wanted information from the Spy Master, the Spy Master wanted some information in return.

"Well, we didn't set up shop here, as you say..." Lucien rubbed his chin. "We do not actually have any official branches in Morrowind."

"The two assassins you killed seem to suggest otherwise," Caius smirked, looking at Lucien expectantly. That wasn't enough information to make him share his.

"If there is a rogue group, I'll have to find them, but I didn't expect any and have no contracts on anyone in particular," Lucien said, but Caius still kept silent. "Well... there was a rumour of someone seeing our armour in Mournhold... I was on my way there, in fact."

"Ah." Caius smiled. "You will want to speak with Apelles Matius at the Legion there. Don't expect much, but it will hopefully get the ball rolling. Mention my name if he refuses to talk." Caius stretched for a small bottle on his bedside table. "If you find anything of importance for the Empire, I would appreciate a hint," he smiled.

"Of course," Lucien inclined his head. "As always."

...

Morrowind didn't have horses, and Lucien took one look at a guar without a saddle that he was offered for transportation, and shook his head. Silt striders made him dizzy, and teleportation with the Mages Guild made his skin crawl. Was he the only person in the Empire to bemoan the lack of horses in Morrowind? Probably not. And so he decided to walk.

It would take him a day or two to reach Vivec on foot, what with the usual rats and mating kaguti along the way, so he prepared for a long journey. He would then stop at the Willow Cottage near Vivec before continueing. He hoped no assassins would interrupt his sleep, but he didn't count on it.

...

The assassin that came for him to the Willow Cottage, was clearly more experienced than the previous ones. What's more, he struck while remaining completely invisible. When Lucien finally struck him down and the Chameleon spell fizzled out, he saw that the assassin was a vampire.

"At least this brother is not gone forever," Lucien thought moving him into the storage room of the cottage. "He can lie here until he rises again." He looked into the vampire's features - the vampire had been famished. "Might take a while in your condition," he shook his head. Morrowind was extremely intolerant to vampires. He checked his own wounds - they were serious but not life-threatening; he would need to spend another day there and hope that no one would come for him the following night. He tried to guess whether he had caught Porphyric Hemophilia, but didn't think so. It would not be his first spell of vampirism, but without the purgeblood salts of Deepscorn Hollow, it might become more than a mere nuisance. So far he managed to get each spell cured before he had to feed - he never drank mortal blood, and so his vampirism never became recessive. He was still a true mortal, and he aimed to keep it that way. "Perhaps best stop by a shrine in Vivec, just in case," he thought and hoped that Dunmer saints would not turn away an assassin as most of the Nine did. There were no shrines of Dibella in Morrowind. "We had no purgeblood salts when Lena got infected," he thought of her wondering where she was at that moment. "She stood no chance."

...

Lena was clinging to Roach's neck trying not to fall off - her wounds were deep and the loss of blood made her dizzy. She hoped Roach knew where she was going, and she did. Roach stopped by the water, Lena slid out of the saddle and reached for a trapdoor in the grass, opening it with her key. She nearly fell into the space below, not daring to let go of the ladder. Deepscorn Hollow.

"Mistress..!" She heard hurried footsteps approaching, someone supporting her, she let go of the ladder and blacked out.

...

Cold fever was rushing through Lena's veins, if there is such a thing as cold fever. This cold was burning. It was reaching into the tips of her fingers and engulfing every joint. It made her flesh tingle. Then it subsided, leaving a feeling of calm behind. Calm and cold. Lena slept without any dreams or movement.

...

Lena woke up in the bedroom of Deepscorn Hollow. Someone had brought her there, laid her on the bed after she had collapsed by the entrance. Fenris, of course.

Fenris was sitting in the corner of the room reading a book, or rather waiting for Lena to wake up. When she opened her eyes, he walked over to her bed.

"Forgive me, Mistress, I could not stop your bleeding," he said softly. "Your wounds were too deep."

"But I am not dead..?" Lena sat up, stretched out her hands to look at them. They were pale, with a slight blueish tint, her nails bone white. "Ah." She nodded. "How..?"

Fenris rolled up his sleeve, revealing a fresh cut over his vein. "I just brought it up to your lips, you fed instinctively. I didn't dare to give you mortal blood - if your vampirism had receded, you would not have survived."

"Of course," Lena smiled at him. "Thank you." The hand on the Dark Brotherhood tapestry caught her eye. "This target fought back. He was a mage, a necromancer. Summoned a lich that summoned a wraith, the three of them were hurling frost curses at me... The lich had a sword too! The wraith also!" She shook her head at the many bandages that Fenris applied to her wounds. "I only survived because my vampirism flared..." She shook her head again. This time she came too close to failing her contract. "Vampirism does come handy in my profession... That mage is dead, of course," she added with a smirk.

...

Feeding on Fenris's blood - the blood of a vampire - meant that Lena's vampirism progressed from a recessive form to full, and feeding on mortal blood would no longer drive it in remission, but only strengthen its hold. She now had to take a cure - the purgeblood salts in the basement pool of Deepscorn Hollow should do the trick. But not straight away - switching between different forms of vampirism was taxing for the body, and Lena was not likely to survive it in her present state. On the other hand, the longer she remained a full vampire, the greater was the risk of passing the infection to the child she was carrying, and she wanted to avoid that at all costs. A balance had to be found.

The stress of these worries made her black out again.

...

"Do not fight it! It is the only way," a booming voice spoke from the darkness. "I can grant it to you now - embrace my gift and rise as a Pure-Blood, your wounds healed, your pain extinguished!"

Lena was floating above the bed, an unseen force supporting her from below. She felt light, she felt steady, her cold veins were now carrying strength and agility, spreading it through her body, down to her toes and fingertips. She felt twenty again - not two hundred and twenty, but twenty, like back then. The cold not only washed away the pain, but also painful memories of the past two hundred years. She was young again. Young forever.

The unseen force turned her upright - she was levitating. She was no longer in Deepscorn Hollow. A strangely familiar city spread before her.

"Welcome to my Realm!" The voice sounded closer. "This should be your home. For one like yourself, I'll find a palace or a castle to live in. You will have a clan of your own, you will be the Queen."

"The Wolf Clan with a Wolf Queen, how ironic," Lena smirked. "Well, I don't like necromancers either, but that's taking it a bit far, don't you think?"

She was now flying over the city, with its houses, shops and cathedrals eerily quiet. It was daytime, yet there was no sun, a blueish light like in ancient Ayleid ruins filled the air.

"Why me?" Lena tried to control her movements, but couldn't. "Plenty of vampires in Cyrodiil, why do you want me?"

"Because you keep defying him, of course!" A new, mocking voice spoke in her head. "He can't have it, oh no! Not our Prince of Domination!"

"Silence!!" Molag Bal's rage sounded over Sheogorath's cackle. "Get out of my Realm!!"

"I am not in your Realm," Sheogorath cackled again. "I am in this mortal's head. You may lay claim on her blood, but her mind belongs to me!"

"Quiet!!" Lena screamed, and the force holding her in the air vanished. She landed on the pavement of the Hollow City, the seriousness of her situation suddenly becoming obvious. She was in Coldharbour, whether she wanted it or not. Could she keep resisting Molag Bal even here, in his own Realm?

"Mistress!" A passer-by bowed to her in respect.

"See, they know you already!" Molag Bal's triumphant voice sounded again. "You are home, Wolf."

...

The voices in Lena's head went quiet, both Princes left her be, it seemed. She walked the streets of the Hollow City, and wherever she looked, buildings, gardens and monuments appeared just as she pictured them in her mind moments ago. "This is how Sheogorath must be building his Realm," she thought. Something Haskill had said the very first time they met in answer to her question why the Realm was the way it was: "Because my Lord wills it so." She could never alter the Shivering Isles that way - she may have been Sheogorath's Champion, but he didn't resign his Realm to her. But Molag Bal? He was gifting her that city, it seemed. Tempting... oh so very tempting...

Lena entered a cathedral. It looked just like one of the grand cathedrals in Cyrodiil, but the stained glass windows did not depict the Nine. They did not depict anything in particular, coloured bits of glass formed random patterns. Altars stood under the windows, but what blessings did they grant? Lost in thought, she peered into the stained glass again, looking for Arkay by force of habit... and for a very brief moment, his image appeared, then vanished just as quickly. Lena dashed to the altar beneath it, touching it lightly and feeling the warmth of the stone that she did not expect. "Save me..!" Her prayer to the God of Life and Death was brief but intense.

Pain engulfed her and she collapsed onto the stone floor.

...

"Mistress!" Fenris was pressing his arm to Lena's lips, and Lena fed instinctively. Her wounds were oozing dark undead blood - her blood. The bandages that Fenris had placed over them previously, were soaked through. "I had no choice..." He kept dipping a cloth into some infusion and pressing it to her wounds. Eventually Lena let go of his arm, and he quickly set about changing the bandages, applying more and more infusion to the wounds until the bleeding stopped. "You won't be able to feed on mortal blood until your wounds close," he said with a sigh. "I am sorry."

"What happened?" Lena tried to make sense of what seemed like an impossible memory.

"You... died," Fenris stumbled. "I had to bring you back. I am sorry if..." he broke off.

Her child. The room was filled with the aroma of nightshade extract - a substance of life and death that allowed to pass from one realm to the next and back... But what would it do to her child..?

Lena never welcomed a kick into the liver more than at that moment. Her child lived.

"Thank you, Arkay!" She whispered.

1 First Seed, 4E203 - The Dark Brotherhood

"You are either soft in the head or suicidal," Apelles Matius looked at Lucien in disbelief. "The Dark Brotherhood, ideed! What would they want with you? I'm sure they have real targets to pursue. Besides, if they were really after you, you wouldn't be standing here telling me about it," he smirked at his own witticism. "Who are you, anyway?" He squinted, suddenly realising that the Imperial standing before him seemed different from most Imperials who dwelled in Morrowind. He didn't look lost.

"I am just a concerned citizen, really," Lucien smiled amicably. "I have recently arrived from Cyrodiil, and I don't intend to stay - it's a business trip, you see. So I was rather surprised by the attacks." He smiled again, indicating that he was still hoping for a more comprehensive reply.

"Surprised, yes, if they were indeed the Dark Brotherhood, as you claim," Apelles Matius still didn't give in. "Camona Tong more likely, or just some local rogue aiming to rob you. Nothing to do with me, the Legion or the Empire!" He puffed his cheeks looking offended. "What proof do you have?"

"Well..." Lucien cleared his throat in hesitation. "Caius didn't think I'd need any, so I didn't bother with it..." He looked timidly at the Legion officer before him, who now resembled a pufferfish ready to blow rather than an enraged bull from a moment ago. "I was hoping to get to the bottom of it, for his benefit as well as my own."

"The Spy Master..?" Apelles Matius was taken aback. "You working for him..?" He shook his head in disbelief and took a step back. "I don't want to cross the path of the Spy Master or to have anything to do with intelligence," he said stiffly. "Go to Mournhold. They are there. Investigate if you must. I have no clue what they want with you. There's a mage here who can teleport you. Don't come back." Six short sentences, six steps backwards, a sharp turn on his heels and a march in the opposite direction was all Lucien was going to get that day.

"Nothing to do with intelligence indeed," he smirked to himself. "What a cliche."

...

Lucien was in Ebonheart and needed to go to Mournhold. His original plan was to travel overland, but he had admittedly forgotten about the lack of horses in Morrowind - it would be too far to walk on foot and too hard to avoid bandits and wild animals, since he could not outrun them as well as Shadowmere could. The prospect of such a journey looked tedious, and so he chose teleportation, even if it did make his skin crawl.

Arriving in Mournhold, he found himself dizzier than usual. Not that he was used to teleportation at all, but somehow he imagined arriving more in one piece. "Of course I'm still in one piece," he told himself. "My arms and legs didn't get switched either... It only seems that way." He looked around, noting the lavish surroundings and many doors. "The Royal Palace?" That realisation didn't help.

"The gardens are that way," an Argonian hissed at him. "Go find a bench," he squinted. "Dilettantes!"

...

The best way to get your bearings in a new city is to talk to everyone, and Lucien set out to do just that. And yet, he was not your usual adventurer who would get involved in saving damsels beset by rats and such. Even an apparent goblin army under the city did not stir his curiosity. Some people started to wonder just what was he looking for in their city of splendour.

What Lucien was looking for, was of course the Dark Brotherhood. And it didn't take long to find them either - one of the first people he spoke to, told him that there was a group of Dark Brotherhood assassins in the sewers under the Grand Bazaar. "Another cliche," Lucien thought. "Could have come up with that myself, really." He would go there in time and confront them, but first he wanted to see what they would do, now that he was in the city. "If they have a contract on my life, they should keep coming for me," he reasoned. "Or else they are imposters, like that Skyrim group." And so he took up rooms at The Winged Guar and prepared to wait.

...

Several days have passed during which time Lucien explored the entire above-ground part of the city, even including the Royal Palace, as far as a tourist like himself would be permitted. He bought several maps, correcting each of them with the things that he discovered, and marking entrances into the sewers. He memorised the looks of the areas near each exit, so that should he emerge from underground in a hurry, he would instantly know where he was. He even made friends with the Argonian mage in the lobby of the Royal Palace where he arrived - that seemed to be the only way out of that enlightened place.

And yet not one assassin came for him in all that time. This surprised and annoyed Lucien - annoyed because it was unprofessional, indicating that the group in the sewers was a group of rogues, not having anything to do with the discipline of the real Brotherhood. "I wonder what keeps them back," he mused. "Is it the abundance of guards or the proximity of the Royal Palace? And why would they be afraid of either? It never stopped any of us..."

The lack of attempts on his life also made him wonder why someone wanted him dead in the first place. Oh, he could think of any number of reasons why people would want him dead, but this wasn't any of those vendettas. What's more, there was no Morag Tong branch in Mournhold, at least not one he knew of or could locate, and he found that strange, too. Things just didn't add up. The so-called Dark Brotherhood was attacking a Dark Brotherhood Speaker, but only in areas that also had a Morag Tong presence... How strange.

...

After several days walking around, Lucien got bored. The city was squeaky clean, with more ordinators than citizens in the streets. Wide empty avenues and unnaturally quiet "Grand Bazaar" were getting on his nerves. Oh, the city was far from empty - there were plenty of customers at The Winged Guar, the only inn in town. It all felt strange, somehow...

"But what do you expect?" An alchemist at the Bazaar raised an eyebrow and squinted at a passing ordinator. "With all the guards, no one feels at ease. There's life at the Royal Palace, but you have to be associated with the Royal family to live there, of course. There's also apparently life at the Temple, but there... I don't know what you have to do to be admitted. Almalexia thinks herself a goddess..." The young alchemist said quickly, then clapped her hand over her mouth. "Almalexia is our beloved goddess," she proclaimed confidently after a short pause.

"But..." Lucien quickly looked over his shoulder - the guard was out of earshot. "Wasn't Almalexia killed just before the Oblivion Crisis?" He asked softly.

The alchemist nodded and repeated: "Almalexia is our beloved goddess." Then after a pause she added in a barely audible whisper: "And her ghost as well."

This was intriguing and Lucien went to the Temple.

"The Goddess does not admit just anyone," the guard looked at him with disdain. "Have you been invited? No. That says it, really."

Of course there would be ways to get invited, Lucien was sure of it. But whether Almalexia was a ghost or a lich, he really didn't care, and it made no difference to him. The Tribunal clearly held sway over Morrowind, he noticed it on Vvardenfell too, and they've done it for centuries. They would have no reason to send assassins after him.

"It is curious however that this city houses both a goddess and a king," he thought walking towards the Royal Palace. "Perhaps the King wishes for more power. Kings are often like that."

...

"King Helseth doesn't see just anyone," a guard stopped Lucien from entering the Throne Room. "Have you been invited for an audience? No. So try one of the doors leading out."

Here again, there would definitely be ways to get invited. And again, Lucien didn't care for it. There was nothing else left but to go and confront the "Dark Brotherhood" assassins in the sewers.

...

"There you are!!!" Someone shouted and attacked Lucien on sight. Several other attackers joined in, all clad in dark, smooth leather armour. Their faces were covered as well, they looked identical.

"Well no, you are not quintuplets," Lucien thought, twisting and turning, parrying and lunging. "You don't all have the same skills or weapons either." When the floor was littered with bodies, Lucien had a chance to examine them closely. They wore what looked like Dark Brotherhood armour and wielded an assortment of generic weapons. He found the assassins in the sewers. "Right, now let's find your leader."

Although Lucien had won that fight, he did not come off unscathed. His wounds would require treatment, but he wanted to finish his investigation then and there rather than leave and come back to another fight. He decided to proceed with caution from then on and cloaked in chameleon.

He noted several dozens more assassins along the way, and wondered whether the leader was one of them, indistinguishable from the rest. "Probably not," he thought, smirking at his own attire which was different from the armour worn by his subordinates. Finally he noticed a Dunmer without a face mask and wearing some other kind of armour. "Looks expensive," Lucien thought. "This must be the leader." The Dunmer seemed to be bored - he paced the room without purpose, picking a book here, a scroll there, reading a bit, tossing it aside, taking a sip from his hip flask, pacing some more... And so when he was distracted with another book, Lucien slipped a poisoned apple into the Dunmer's pocket. All he had to do now, was wait.

...

Sitting with his legs crossed behind some crates, Lucien had a chance to look around. The guard who told him about the whereabouts of the assassins, did mention that they occupied "The Old Manor". Lucien didn't pay much attention to the description at first, but now, looking at the carvings on the walls and smoothly worked ceilings, he realised that these halls must have been built for a rich family - this was indeed a manor. Or rather, a ruin of an ancient manor. "Much like the Dwemer ruins in Skyrim," he thought. The atmosphere was somehow similar too; there were no automatons, but the doors and possibly parts of the walls were metal - he could tell from the echos. It was an altogether eery place, and poorly illuminated. Assassins in identical suits of armour were pacing the corridors, and Lucien counted over twenty. "This is a very large group," he thought, keeping an eye on their leader who still hadn't tasted the apple. "This is far larger than any Sanctuary. We would never keep a cell as large as that. This is more of an army."

Suddenly a dull thump in the room occupied by their leader interrupted his observations. One bite of the apple was all it took. The assassins noticed their leader's demise, they were running around in panic looking for the intruder, but Lucien kept quiet behind the crates, even though his legs were going numb from crouching for so long. He needed the place to be quiet so that he could go through the dead man's pockets.

Eventually the assassins calmed down and walked away, returning to their conversations about the wonders of the Imperial City and the local mudcrabs and goblins, and Lucien slipped into their leader's room and quickly checked his pockets. One scroll stood out from the rest, and it was a contract on his life. "Well, as good as," he noted, for the scroll was requesting the death of "that black-haired Imperial wearing a black robe with belts over it and some strange bracers". "Yep, that'd be me," he grinned, pocketing it, cloaking in chameleon and quietly leaving The Old Manor. It wasn't the right time to study the scroll; his room at The Winged Guar would be a much more comfortable place for that.

Me too (in regards to horse speeds being ridiculously high.... but also slow sometimes). And that's not even getting into the speeds bipedal beings can achieve....

Anyway, where was I?



That'd be so awesome if you could. Just imagine. I wouldn't want to summon anything, but damn... having the ability to go invisible at will would be pretty sweet! That's what I'd want.



I have this idea to add Requirements to all the Cyrodiilic guilds, which means if we haven't got the necessary skills/Attributes this leads to an alternate dialog being said by the guild our guy or gal's trying to join. "Sorry, but we feel you do not meet our current standards, please return after X..." (X being 'you have gained more worldly knowledge / have studied to the point of gaining insights... etc.'). But it's one of those ambitious ideas I've never gotten around to doing. Probably some other mods (like OOO) do this sort of thing as well.

Then again, that's a Morrowind idea. The guilds and houses of MW do this sort of thing because of all the conflicts in that game. In Cyrodiil / 3rd Era, they seem to be taking anyone in, especially because they need all the help they can get as the Crisis unfolds.

Anyway, where the heck was I? Lena's just spoken to Traven. "He doesn't have many mages left who'll do anything for him" she says. Ha ha ha ha that's very true.

Uh oh, Lucien is here. *Love scene*

Alright, this is really neat. You've outlined a timeline for the events of your gameworld, that's really lovely. Oh wow. "In 3E413 Lena's mother Lillian Delacour had a son. As she was a Dark Brotherhood assassin, and her son's father was a high placed citizen of the Empire, their relationship was clandestine and they decided to send the boy away to the Northern Realms to be raised as a witcher of the School of the Wolf. He later became known as Geralt of Rivia,"

So Geralt is Lena's brother? Am I reading that right?

Lena joined the Mages Guild and sounds like she did the Main Quest as well. Dark Brotherhood, too.

Hauk and Lucien knew each other before Lena met Hauk, I see. Lena is also Dragonborn. 🐉 Geralt eventually became involved with Lena at some point. Again, are they bro & sis, or did I read that wrong?

http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?s=&...st&p=338017

That timeline changed slightly by now, but only slightly. You will come across another chronology later on.

Yes, Geralt is Lena's brother. But they didn't grow up together as you see here. In fact, they only met and discovered that they were siblings when Lena went to the Northern Realms. She stayed there for a year or so, then returned to Cyrodiil. Geralt followed some years later, arriving in Skyrim. I won't tell any more because the next few episodes from your bookmark are going to pick up that story.

3 First Seed, 4E203 - H

Back at The Winged Guar, Lucien locked the door of his room, barred it for good measure, poured himself a glass of very expensive Imperial Tamika West Weald, and set about examining his wounds and his findings.

"Back at home this bottle would have cost me... what? 4 septims? 8 perhaps? Not 87 like in good old Morrowind..." he smirked, but wasn't willing to drink the local brew. He hoped that several suits of Dark Brotherhood armour and half a dozen fancy looking swords that he picked up along the way, would help with the wine fund.

He twisted to remove the swords stuck into his belt, and a sharp pain under the ribs reminded him to reconsider his priorities. The inn didn't have a bath, which meant he would have to make do with bandages and restoration magic. He finished offloading the gear, took off his robe and examined the damage.

"I'll live, most likely," he concluded. "But there is internal bleeding." With his limited means that meant magic, then back to mainland in search of "professional" treatments. "Caius would know where to find what I need," he decided. "He's been in a few fights himself, and lived..."

With this understatement of an era, he took a closer look at the Dark Brotherhood armour in his possession.

"Good workmanship, smooth leather, but not quite our style," he concluded. "This is not our armour."

Next, he turned to the scroll that he retrieved from the leader of the assassins.

"This is a most peculiar document..." he read through it. "And what was it that the Dunmer murmoured with his dying breath..?" Lucien strained to remember. "Tell my leige that I have failed... What a strange request to make of the one you were trying to kill. And who is this 'H'?"

The Bearer of this document, under special dispensation of the Night Mother, who has entered in a contract in perpetuity with H, is given special dispensation to execute a certain ex-prisoner recently residing on the island of Vvardenfell. In accordance with all laws and traditions, the afore-mentioned personage will be executed in the name of H in the most expedient manner possible. All services of the Dark Brotherhood are at the disposal of the Bearer of this binding and non-disputable document.

The word "ex-prisoner" was crossed out, and a note in a different handwriting was added underneath:

That dark-haired Imperial wearing a black robe with belts over it and some strange bracers.

"Well, the contract is now here, with me. And it does say that the bearer of the document is to get all support, etc." Lucien smirked. "But perhaps I shouldn't test my luck with the assassins again. Who are they, I wonder? And what's with the goblins? No goblins I know can afford that kind of weapons or show that kind of discipline..."

Mulling these things over and sipping his wine, he finally fell asleep. No assassin came for him that night.

...

Lucien's wounds were too serious to be ignored, and he prescribed himself bedrest and regular trips to the Royal Palace and the Temple for healing - both provided healing services, so the more the merrier. He only needed to get patched up sufficiently to make the trip back to Balmora, where, he was sure, Caius would help him.

At the Royal Palace he overheard a conversation between guards. They were talking about the King, and they referred to him as "H". King Hlaalu Helseth. Could he be the mysterious "H" in the Dark Brotherhood contract? That document had nothing to do with the Night Mother, Lucien was sure of that, at least not with the real Night Mother - he'd heard there was some woman in Ald Sotha claiming to be the "Morrowind Night Mother", or the head of the Dark Brotherhood in Morrowind. "More fairy tales," Lucien dismissed it. Oh, he had no doubt that there was a woman calling herself the Night Mother and all that. It's just she wasn't the real one.

"If 'H' is really King Helseth... That would explain the army of assassins in The Old Manor which just happens to be directly under the Royal Palace," Lucien was turning over the scroll. "That would also explain where the money for all their quality armour and weapons come from," he agreed with himself. "But why? What is the King planning? Or perhaps he decided that assassins were more reliable than goblins?" He smirked. "A goblin army! The whole city is talking about it already." The din in the inn behind his door was getting louder as the evening advanced. "But why want to kill me?" He returned to the scroll. "And who is this 'ex-prisoner' that they wanted to kill originally?" He paused in thought. "No..! Well, it would fit... Things are worse than I had expected."

The following morning he left for Balmora, sincerely hoping that all the teleportation and silt strider travel would not cause his inner organs to find their way to the outside through his reopened wounds.

6 First Seed, 4E203 - The enemy of my enemy must be my friend

"This is most worrying," Caius shook his head reading the scroll that Lucien handed him. "Yes, the 'ex-prisoner' must be who you think it is, but he didn't report any attacks, so I suppose he either got lucky, or they started a bit late and switched to you very quickly. It isn't about your renegade member - Rayenna, was it?" He shot a glance at Lucien who nodded. "No, this is much, much bigger..." He focussed on the scroll again. "I'm sure 'H' is King Helseth. He's been trying to increase his influence for ages... At this point it seems that any disturbance in Morrowind would be in his interest, including a war of assassins..."

"Which he would of course quell and restore universal peace," Lucien smirked.

"Quite." Caius passed the scroll back to Lucien. "Hauk will need to be told, since he's the 'ex-prisoner', even though the danger for him has passed. But he can then go back to Eno and report, and that will complete your mission."

"Where is he?" Lucien winced involuntarily realising that going in search of Hauk would mean a lot of travelling, and his half-healed wounds were still bothering him. However, he needed to speak to Hauk himself. "I shall also need to wait until he'll have spoken to Eno Hlaalu," he pointed out.

Caius did not object. "Actually, he is in Balmora," he winked and handed Lucien a note with a name of a healer, and Lucien knew that it would be more than just common Restoration magic.

...

"Nice place you have here," Lucien was sitting on the roof terrace of Hauk's house in Balmora, and Hauk had seen him from a good distance away. "Hello."

"Come in," Hauk motioned Lucien to follow and unlocked the door, grateful that his friend did not take the liberty of breaking in and waiting for him inside. "I have a bath in the basement," Hauk said in passing, noticing Lucien wince as he turned. "And did Caius..?"

"Yes," Lucien nodded. "The healer. But that's not why I came to see you." The seriousness in his voice stopped Hauk in his tracks. "King Helseth is trying to trigger a war of assassins," Lucien said without a preamble. "You tell Eno that. He's got an army of so-called 'Dark Brotherhood' assassins in the ruins under his palace in Mournhold. They may not be Dark Brotherhood, but they are well armed, well armoured and well trained. This would be very bloody. Tell Eno not to fall for the provocation."

"So this has nothing to do with Rayenna, then?" Hauk wanted to be sure.

"Nothing," Lucien nodded. "There is a woman in Ald Sotha that calls herself the Night Mother of Morrowind, and it was apparently she who entered into a contract with the King. I don't know what her role really is, but she sounds like a recruitment agent. Eno may want to take care of her."

"Very well." Hauk was making mental notes. Then, realising that Lucien was finished with his message, he delivered one of his own. "Your father sends his regards."

Lucien froze for a moment, then relaxed, looking puzzled, if anything. He did not need to pretend with Hauk. "I am glad he is well," he finally said. "Anything else?"

"The Salvel ancestral tomb is inside the Ghost Fence," Hauk said matter-of-factly. "He didn't think it was time yet, but he did ask me to tell you about it. That would be the place to meet." He watched Lucien's face, then added: "Some day."

Lucien nodded. They sat in silence for a while.

"What's next with Rayenna though?" Hauk got up and started putting food and drink on the table. The topic of Rayenna was less of a strain for both of them.

"Well, she's still a danger, and you never know what Mephala has in store for her," Lucien shrugged. "We still need to find her, but it is more of a personal issue now."

"Can I kill her now?" Hauk asked impatiently. "Since she has nothing to do with the threat of the war of assassins?"

"Please do," Lucien smiled.

...

"Where are you staying?" Hauk was watching Lucien wince again and again. "That wound has reopened."

"The Eight Plates I suppose," Lucien shrugged.

Hauk shook his head. "Wait here."

He got up and left the house.

...

"Optio," a Dunmer greeted Hauk in a spacious hall dimly lit with red oil lamps. Hauk could have sworn that the Dunmer paled.

"I need to see your Master," Hauk smiled.

...

"Optio," Ethasi Rilvayn repeated the greeting when Hauk walked into her room. "We have received instructions from the Grandmaster. What assistance may I offer you?"

"A friend of mine requires secure accommodation while he is recovering from a wound with internal bleeding," he beamed at Ethasi. "His father is a Brother with your order."

"But?" Ethasi sensed trouble.

"He is a Dark Brotherhood Speaker."

"And you believe that accommodation at a Morag Tong Guildhall would qualify as 'secure' for one like himself?" Her laughter was viciously sharp. "Pray, bring him in."

"I am serious," Hauk insisted. "He is in Morrowind on a mission vital to both your organisations. Should he be harmed, you will have more than the wrath of your Grandmaster to contend with. I have to travel to Vivec as soon as possible, and I have to be sure of his safety."

The seriousness of Hauk's tone, his reputation and track record of the last 30 years, and the orders from the Grandmaster to offer him every assistance, all weighed on Ethasi. As uncomfortable as she was with allowing a member of the Dark Brotherhood to set foot in their Guildhall, she felt she could not refuse.

"Very well, on your head be it," she hissed through her teeth. "But only for as long as absolutely necessary!" She glared at Hauk. "He leaves as soon as he can ride! We'll even get him a horse!" She glared again, as if she was offering to procure a tame daedroth. "And he'll need to clear the room he'll be staying in!" She added with an afterthought. "It's a very secure room, and we will even remove the corpse for his convenience afterwards," she smiled. "What is his name?"

"Lucien Lachance," Hauk beamed at her. "And thank you." He turned to leave.

"What?!" Ethasi paled, her rage nearly boiling over. "He!! Never!!"

"Is there a problem?" Hauk turned around to face her again. "Or do I need to ask Eno to post a bodyguard for Azarath's son?"

Ethasi was torn. She did not want to disobey the orders of their Grandmaster Eno Hlaalu, for that would not only mean her removal from the post of Master but possibly removal from Nirn as well. She also did not want to cross Azarath Salvel, a Morag Tong Brother with a long standing reputation... But to allow Lucien Lachance into her Guildhall... Lucien Lachance, the very assassin who cost her many a member and several targets... a man she considered her archenemy... a son of Azarath Salvel? No! Impossible! But what if it was true nonetheless? And his mission... She'd heard rumours of another war of assassins being stirred up, she knew that both Morag Tong and the Dark Brotherhood would try to avoid it... Then, what if... What if this wretched Imperial Speaker was in fact involved in that very mission and got wounded in the process? In which case it would be her duty to offer him every assistance... By the ancestors! How was she to know what to do?!

Hauk was watching Ethasi's face waiting for her to make the right decision.

"He won't abuse your hospitality," he said softly. "His wife in Cyrodiil is in the final month of pregnancy, he will be eager to leave as soon as he possibly can." Ethasi's face softened at this but she was still hesitating. "And of course Eno will hear of your incredible gesture of good will."

"Oh all right," she finally gave in. "Have him come in. I guarantee his safety," she sighed.

A Dunmer outside the door took his ear from the keyhole and sighed a sigh of relief.

...

Of course Lucien could not believe his ears when Hauk told him that he'd arranged lodgings for him at the Morag Tong Guildhall.

"I don't think that nixhound meat and kwama eggs agree with your constitution," he looked at Hauk in bewilderment. "Have you gone mad? They'll slit my throat at the first opportunity!"

"They won't, but you will need to slit a few throats to clear the room you'll be staying in," Hauk was serious. "They will protect you, assist with healing and even get you a horse to take you home. Alive," he added, just to be sure. "Your father's name carries weight in this organisation," he grinned.

Lucien shook his head but agreed after some consideration. If Hauk thought it would be safe, he had nothing to worry about.

...

Lucien's stay with Morag Tong in Balmora was indeed safe and largely uneventful. The fact that he had to kill another Morag Tong member locked in the room they reserved for him was a bit peculiar, but Lucien chose not to worry about it. The infusions that they gave him were effective, if also mildly sedative, and it didn't take long before Lucien was ready to leave.

"Ride to the Shadow Pass," a Dunmer handed the reins of a Bay horse to Lucien. "You'll need to cross the mountains into Cyrodiil through a cavernous passage, you can't take a horse through there anyway," he continued his instructions. "Let the horse go, she'll make her way home," he patted her. "You'll come out not far from Malada. There you're on your own." He watched Lucien mount the horse and check his map. "Good luck, brother," he added softly.

21 First Seed, 4E203 - Concessions and bonds

Lucien was riding hard, even his Shadowmere was getting tired. His mission in Morrowind completed, he was eager to return home. He hoped he wasn't too late - Lena's term was quickly approaching. "Another week or two may be, but then she's really due," he was thinking. He had been the first to notice when Lena conceived, even before she realised it herself - his training with the Temple of Dibella in his youth had taught him to read the signs. He loathed having to leave her on her own in her final month of pregnancy, but if a war of assassins had broken out, it would have been far worse. "She'd gone to the Shivering Isles," he was thinking and shaking his head. "That was supposed to be a safe place away from Mephala... Instead she walked right into the second Greymarch... Let's hope her friends there kept her away from the worst of the fighting." He smirked to that thought - he didn't believe it himself.

Finally the towers of Cheydinhal appeared in the distance. By force of habit, Lucien directed Shadowmere to take the path to the East of the city - to Fort Farragut, but then changed his mind, there would be time for that later. Shadowmere was just a horse, after all, so... "And why not," he thought and rode to the stables. "You like carrots, don't you," he patted the horse as he dismounted. "I think they've got carrots. You'll like it here, you'll see." Shadowmere snorted, looked around at the other horses in the paddock and firmly turned her backside to them.

"Do not worry about a thing, Muthsera," the stable hand smiled at Lucien. "It is an honour." Yes, people knew who he was. He entered the city and the guards at the gate straightened up, if not actually saluted him.

"Good to see you," Garrus greeted him jovially when they passed each other in the street. "No, not yet," he shook his head at Lucien's questioning glance. "She's got a friend with her - a very old friend, by the looks of things. They just got here a few days ago, I haven't met him yet."

"Him?" Lucien frowned slightly.

"Well... You know she doesn't trust women," Garrus shrugged. Lucien knew that of course, and the affair with Rayenna was still raw on his mind, so there was another proof why women were not to be trusted, at least from Lena's point of view. He would just have to come to terms with the fact that in the two hundred years that passed between the night in Bravil and the night in the Dawnstar Sanctuary, Lena had formed a few other bonds... as did he. "Or rather," he thought, "my bonds were formed before we met, but she was still so young... And I wasn't with her, I chose my freedom then. Well, and now she's got bonds that I must honour." He sighed and resolved not to jump to conclusions until he met Lena's friend.

...

"It's happening!" Lena was crying out in pain as her belly started to cramp. "Arrgghh! I don't think I can walk!"

She and Scorpio were having lunch in Lena's house in Cheydinhal. Scorpio had insisted on accompanying Lena when she finally left the Shivering Isles - the road was long and he wasn't letting her travel alone. He could protect her from wolves, bandits and zombies alike, but he had no clue what to do if her baby was really coming.

"Err... Come lie on the bed!" That was the one thing he could think of. "What is supposed to happen now?"

"I don't know!" Lena cried. "It's my first child! Arrgghh!!"

"You need help," he decided. "But not healing... this isn't a wound... err..." He was frantically trying to think what he could do, but didn't dare to use any magic in case it harmed to baby somehow. By Arkay, he wasn't a healer!

"That's it - chapel!" Lena managed to say between cramps. "They've got healers... get one."

The Chapel of Arkay was just across the street from Lena's house, so Scorpio didn't feel too bad about leaving Lena alone - it wouldn't be for long.

...

Lucien pushed the door finding it unlocked. This was Lena's house to start with, and now it was their family home.

"Wolf?" He cried running up the stairs, fearing the worst. But instead he found his wife on the bed clutching her belly in cramps. "Already?!" He ran up to her, checking her over. "I am not a healer, but I think it's a false alarm," he tried to soothe her. "I'll fetch one..."

"Where is she?" Worried voices coming from downstairs broke off his sentence. "Upstairs? Did you prepare hot water? Towels? No? Men! You've got to learn if you're going to be a father!"

"I'm not the..."

"Oh." A Khajiit stopped dead at the top of the stairs as soon as she saw Lucien bending over Lena. "That's... We are too late." Her voice fell.

"No, that's her husband, I think," Scorpio stood right behind the Khajiit on the stairs and now gently pushed her up. "Didn't you know? Well, no matter. She's pregnant and needs your help!"

The Khajiit caught herself, nodded and firmly walked over to Lena's bed, although her ears being flat against her head, were betraying fear and confusion. Lucien got up, smiled and took a step back. "False alarm, I think," he said in a quiet voice. "Just the first cramps."

After a short examination and a mild healing spell, the Khajiit confirmed his conclusion.

"Not yet," she nodded. "This will pass, dear," she was stroking Lena's belly and the cramps were calming down. "You'll have many more cramps like that before the kit is ready to be born. But it isn't far off! A week, may be two..."

Lucien accompanied the healer downstairs.

"Can we count on you when the time comes?" He asked in a low voice. "You have nothing to fear, of course. And our gold is as good as anyone else's, I trust?"

"Of course," the Khajiit was much more relaxed now. "I'm new here, don't know that many people yet, but I've heard of you... well... I recognised your robe," she sighed. "The Primate objects when your wife comes to offer her prayers to Arkay... But I've seen Arkay bestow his blessing, and the Primate can do nothing but stare. We'll help, of course. Do you want me to have a look at that wound? Seems serious, you're still bleeding." She pointed at a wet spot on Lucien's robes, it was slowly spreading.

"Damn, it opened again," Lucien pressed his hand against it, blood coloured his fingers red. "No, thanks, I'll handle it. I've had a lot of practice," he smiled.

The healer left. Lena was coming down the stairs, her cramps calmed, Scorpio was some distance behind her. She hugged Lucien, and after a few moments' greeting, she pulled away.

"Bath, now," she pushed the basement door where they had the tub. "You are bleeding."

"I've got to go see Ocheeva first," Lucien shook his head. "This is just a..."

"This is not just a flesh wound," Lena interrupted him. "You're pale, you lost a lot of blood. Tell me what to say to Ocheeva, give me what needs to be delivered, I'll go."

They stood in the basement and Lena opened the tap to fill the bath. The door to the Sanctuary passage was behind her, and she fumbled for a key. Lucien smiled and pulled some scrolls from his robe, edges brown with dried blood.

"Who is your friend?" He asked softly. "We didn't have time for introductions."

"Scorpio," Lena smiled. "Did I tell you about him? I must have done. He is my..." She stopped herself, 'pawn' would have sounded meaningless and quite rude. "My companion from Gransys. From a long time ago... Before Albion even. Scorpio is the one man besides you, with whom I have a bond. Those marriages in Albion that the priests had dug up, they meant nothing. The bond to Scorpio..." She lowered her eyes and blushed. What a mess! And how to explain it?

"So, he is the one to watch, then," Lucien spoke in a low voice too. "Nothing like your other friends."

"And yet if it weren't for him, I would not have been here, in Cyrodiil," Lena looked in Lucien's eyes. "He insisted I shouldn't give up my first bond, as he put it. And it was before we got together, my Speaker, this was before I ever dared... except that one night in Bravil... My Speaker would ever just be my Brother, I told myself, I was ready to stay in Gransys with him, but no, if it weren't for him..." She lowered her eyes again, this was confusing and she wasn't doing such a good job of explaining... Would she have to choose now? She knew whom she would choose, but losing Scorpio again would be so painful.

Lucien was watching her and remembering those few occasions when he saw the same confusion in Lena, the same struggle between her respect for him as her Speaker and her passion for him as a man. "I let the respect win on most occasions, allowed myself to pull away," he thought. "Yet I should have known... That night in Bravil... I took what she offered, but didn't follow up until so much later... Yes, I was busy... What a stupid excuse!" Ocheeva's face rose before his eyes. "That girl loves you," she said when he hinted at what had happened. "She'll disappear because she's afraid of what she's done, she'll deny to herself it ever happened. But she did it on purpose, and you accepted her gift. If you lose sight of her now, it will be a long time before she comes back." Ocheeva was right, a "long time" turned out to be two hundred years. Lucien chose to wait, he wasn't ready for her then, perhaps. Well, then he had to accept her now, accept the other bond that she made while he was staying away.

He took her in an embrace and kissed her.

"I have no say in that," he said in her ear. "It is your bond to keep. It's not one just for fun, either. My bond to you still holds."

They must have stood there for a long time, holding each other in an embrace, memories rushing through their minds. Then Lucien's hand slipped off Lena's shoulder, she caught him and pulled him up to a chair. His wound made him black out.

...

Lucien opened his eyes. The room around him seemed familiar. He was cold. Slowly things came into focus. He was lying in a bath tub filled with ice in their house in Cheydinhal. He heard voices.

"Stubborn, as usual," a female Argonian was trying to whisper but it kept coming out as a hiss. "I hear he rode his horse nearly to death as well," she shook her head. "That wound should have been treated days ago."

"I didn't want to stay there an extra week with Wolf in her condition," he said. "I'll recover." He tried to get out of the bath but slid back into it, his strength failing him.

"You will let us handle it, Speaker," Ocheeva came into view. "Your burial chamber isn't ready yet. You have a child on the way. Do as you're told, and you might live to see it being born." She gave him a look sharper than her Sufferthorn and bared her many pointed teeth. "You are to stay in that bath until all your wounds close, and I for one still see pink oozing from somewhere." She pointed at a few droplets of fresh blood slowly dissolving in cold water.

"Yes, Sister," Lucien smiled and closed his eyes. Everyone except Ocheeva left the basement. Ocheeva pulled up a chair, moved a few bits of ice around trying to see which wound was still bleeding, then shuddered from the cold. Lucien opened his eyes again, watching her worried face. "I won't die just yet," he said. "But you were so right back then... let her slip away and she won't be back for a long time... Why did I allow that? We could have found her if we tried."

"You weren't ready, Lucien," she shook her head. "The time has to be right. She wasn't ready either. Too young. A vampire. She had to find her feet, first."

"Vicente is a vampire, so what?"

"Vicente is three hundred years old, not barely seventeen as she was then."

To an outsider, it may have sounded as an argument that didn't make much sense, but for Lucien and Ocheeva it was a conversation that touched upon many memories and evoked many visions, as is the way with very old friends.

11 Rain's Hand, 4E203 - Derric Lachance

Derric Lachance was born under The Lord on 29 First Seed, 4E203. He had his mother's blond hair and his father's dark brown eyes.

"What race do you want to register?" asked an Imperial Archives clerk when they were filing the documents. "You can choose either of your races, or any of your parents'. So that would be..." He went through a thick ledger on his desk. "Breton or Imperial. Neither of you have a father registered, but I can add their race to your records if you know it." He looked at them with a question.

"Nord," said Lena.

"Dunmer," said Lucien.

The clerk scribbled in the ledger. "And for your son?" He looked at them with a blank expression. They figured he'd seen it all.

"Nord," said Lucien, taking Lena's hand. She turned to him in surprise. "Derric takes after your father, it's plain to see," he smiled. "He casts his Woad when he's frightened."

"He can change his registered race before his 16th birthday," the clerk looked up at them. "If he wants to, or in case he grows up to be more like a Khajiit or something." The clerk smirked at his own joke, but Lucien's cold gaze made him choke on it instead. "It's not always easy to tell the race in a newborn," he said apologetically.

...

"A Nord..." Lena thought on their way back to Cheydinhal. "Geralt will be pleased," she pictured her brother teaching young Derric to fight monsters. He was going to grow up a fighter, a battlemage perhaps, or a spellsword - what else could he be with his lineage and with the people that surrounded him. She wondered if he was Dragonborn... she hoped not.

10 Second Seed, 4E203 - The Volkihar

After Derric was born, Lena became restless. Her pregnancy became difficult towards the end, her labour was long and draining. Her vampirism flared up from all the blood that she'd lost, and she couldn't even hold her newborn son until vampirism was brought back under control. Vicente had to empty his blood chest for her, and Borba delivered all she had, and they regretted not having a thrall in the vicinity. Bottled blood alone wasn't as effective. But the worst of all was Molag Bal.

"As a pure-blood, you can have all the children you want and not suffer the discomforts a pregnancy brings," he spoke in her head. "Bottled blood is a perversion!"

"Get out," Lena kept repeating, trying to stay calm, but it was weighing on her. She needed a better solution.

With Derric safely delivered into the care of a wet nurse, and with Lucien changing his schedule to stay in Cheydinhal for the foreseeable future, Lena had the opportunity to deal with Molag Bal.

"Go on, we'll be fine, I won't leave town," he stroked her cheek. "Molag Bal has been getting on your nerves more than usual, I can tell. But Derric doesn't have vampirism, so it isn't as transmittable as he would have you believe. You have a plan, I take it?" His gaze was probing.

"I'll go to Skyrim," Lena nodded. "The Volkihar are an ancient clan, yet they don't answer to him. I need to know how they did it."

"But the Volkihar are pure-bloods!" exclaimed Lucien. "They aren't going to help you."

"They are, for a price," Lena smiled. "They are rumoured to be ruthless. They are not all pure-bloods, just the head of their House and his wife, I think. He's a Lord to himself and they do what they please - these are no common vampires. I even heard they owned an Elder Scroll."

"If that's the case, then this is how they did it," Lucien nodded. "But there isn't an Elder Scroll for every vampire who wants to overthrow Molag Bal," he winked. "Even though you know your way into the Imperial Library."

Lena smiled, running her tongue over her teeth - her fangs had finally retracted, her vampirism was in remission and under control. But if she were to go see the Volkihar, she would have to trigger it again. She frowned, but her mouth was set in resolve.

"I'll take Fenris with me," she made up her mind, and Lucien knew that it was pointless to argue. "He could use an outing."

"Well... all right," Lucien sighed. "I suppose it's for the best. I'll... never mind," his face darkened.

"Don't" Lena hugged him. "Fenris will just have to keep it to himself. I've had enough Dark Elves to last me to Sithis and back."

"That's my only hope," he smiled. "Tell him - next time the punishment will be real."

...

"Mistress!" Fenris kneeled before Lena as she entered the Leyawiin Sanctuary. "I did not expect you to be back."

"Hello, Fenris. How have you been?" She looked him over, lifting him up by the shoulders. "Lucien wasn't too harsh, was he?"

"He was too lenient," Fenris blushed. "I have no lasting damage. I expected to be dead."

"Well, you will be, or worse, if he has to do it again," Lena looked stern. "So don't let it come to that."

"But it was you who..." Fenris started, then cut himself off and kneeled before her again. "Yes, Mistress."

"Oh Fenris..." Lena lifted him up again. "I meant, don't make me dominate you because I won't. And then what choice will I have?"

Fenris looked her in the eye, quite unusual for a slave.

"Why have you come for me?"

"We are going to Skyrim," she touched his arm.

"Skyrim? What's in Skyrim?"

"The Volkihar."

"The..?" The look of awe on Fenris' face was mixed with fear. "Why?" He gasped.

"They freed themselves from Molag Bal, I need to know how they did it. I need them to do it for me, if that's what it takes. Molag Bal has got to go." She looked resolved.

"They will want a sacrifice, a contribution, something," Fenris' face fell. "I am ready."

"No!" She cut him off. "Not you. We'll find another. I expect they'll want several anyway."

Should a slave believe his master's assurances that he wouldn't be used as a bargaining chip? Generally, no, and Fenris kept his doubts, especially since some of the recent events turned out rather awkward. But he wasn't going to refuse a trip with his Mistress, whatever the consequences.

"When are we leaving and will you be wanting..?" He turned to practical matters.

"Your blood?" Lena smiled. "I will, but not right away. It's a long trip, better pack light. We'll get what we need along the way. We'll be travelling during the day, so..."

"Understood," Fenris nodded.

...

The trip to the shores of the Ghost sea in Skyrim was long and tedious. They travelled during the day, with Lena doing all the talking and Fenris pulling down his hood, since he could not feed every day. Skyrim didn't have enough places where one could feed safely, which drove a lot of local vampires out into the open. They attacked alone and in groups, even along main thoroughfares - Skyrim was too big for the Legion to patrol every road sufficiently to keep it safe. Wild beasts, vampires and werewolves were in abundance.

"Another vampire slain," Fenris turned over a corpse with his boot. "That's an ancient one, too. She will rise again, of course."

"You should have used a silver weapon," Lena pointed out. "Daedric is all well and good, but it doesn't have quite the same effect."

"I am not a vampire hunter," Fenris seemed to take offence at that. "I only want to get them out of the way, not burn them to ashes."

Lena smiled at that. "Yes, I know. And I wasn't using a silver sword either. Come on, the Nightgate Inn is up ahead, you'll be able to feed there, I'm sure."

"You want me to... feed at the inn?" Fenris sounded very surprised. "That'd be a bit too obvious, won't it?"

"Normally, yes," Lena agreed. "But I know the innkeeper. You'll see."

...

"Welcome to the Nightgate Inn! Come on in - the fire is hot, we've got rooms and food, what will it be?" The innkeeper greeted two new visitors entering the inn. The man stayed back, but the woman approached the counter, removing her hood.

"Hello," she smiled, and the innkeeper's face lit up with recognition. "We'd like a room, please, and some dinner. And my companion will need a fortifying beverage later on."

The innkeeper peered to look at Lena's companion, who was not removing his hood.

"Do I know him?" He squinted at Lena.

"No, he's never been to these parts before. And he won't be staying, we are on our way North."

"Well, only because it's you who's asking," the innkeeper looked at her with some doubt. "Don't make it into a habit, we don't want that kind of reputation."

"Don't worry," Lena tried to sound reassuring. "We are discreet. And I won't say anything up North either."

"Oh," his face fell and he pushed a key towards Lena. "The last door in the basement. Keep it to yourselves."

...

"The innkeeper knows you," Fenris stated the obvious, ladling himself another helping of the excellent stew. "He did want to see my face, though."

"He never forgets a face, and he likes to know his clientele," Lena smiled. "We'll wait until everyone has gone to bed, then go to the basement."

...

"The last door, he said," Lena was trying to make out which door could be called "last" in a maze that was the basement of the Nightgate Inn. Most doors were barricaded by crates and barrels and didn't seem to be in use. "Oh, must be this one," she said at the end of a corridor. "I don't know what we'll find inside, be ready." Fenris readied his blade.

The lock clicked. They stepped into the darkness. The heavy door slammed shut behind them.

A multitude of burning red eyes accompanied by angry growl quickly surrounded them from all sides. Wolves. Vampire wolves. The sound of sniffing followed, and by the time Lena cast a night eye spell, the wolves split up into two groups, one around Fenris, another around herself. Fenris didn't need to cast any spells, vampires could see in the dark naturally.

"Who is it?" A voice came from further in.

"Wolf and Fenris," Lena replied. "Fenris needs feeding, but I'm the one with the key."

The wolves surrounding Fenris relaxed, sitting down at his feet. The wolves around Lena kept on alert, but didn't show aggression.

"Fenris can come through," the voice replied. "But you, mortal..." A woman stepped out of the shadows into Lena's field of vision. "A bit scrawny, but beggars cannot be choosers." She ran her fingers along Lena's neck.

"Oh, you are mistaken," Lena smiled. "Been feeding regularly, have you?" Here was another vampire whose overfeeding resulted in a loss of her senses. One of the wolves gathered around Lena, turned to the woman and growled.

"Shut it!" She scowled at it. The wolf bared his fangs even more, with another wolf joining him. "What the..!"

"I told you not to feed twice a day, it makes you blind," another voice was approaching. "Watch the wolves at least, if you've lost your own senses!" A white-haired Dunmer came forward. "That isn't a common mortal."

"Don't talk rubbish!" The woman lit up a torch and held it to Lena's face. "Her eyes are amber, her teeth are human, her skin has a pink tone - a juicy young Breton, if I ever saw one!"

Lena smiled and the Dunmer laughed derisively. "It's in remission! Her vampirism! And I wager she's older than you! Drink her blood, and we'll have a pile of ash to clean up."

The woman shuddered, thrust the torch at the Dunmer and walked off briskly.

"She's an idiot," the Dunmer jerked his head at the vanishing sound of the woman's footsteps. "Wolf, did you say? Lena Wolf? Welcome."

...

"Going North, are you?" The white-haired Dunmer gave Lena a weary look when they were all sitting comfortably by the fire. "The Volkihar are not exactly welcoming. What do you want of them?"

Lena was going to say that it was none of his business, but it would have been a rude response to the coven's hospitality. She decided to be direct, since they obviously heard of her - not many people ever managed to get things together for the Witch's Potion, and every one of them was known to the vampires throughout Cyrodiil and Skyrim, and possibly beyond.

"I want them to help me free myself from Molag Bal," she replied.

"Molag Bal bothers you?" The Dunmer squinted. The Prince didn't follow every vampire, contrary to what mortals believed.

"Yes," Lena nodded. "And I need him out of my head and out of my life. The Volkihar know how to do it."

"That they do," the Dunmer said slowly. "They will want payment. What are you prepared to sacrifice?"

"It depends what they ask for," Lena gave him a direct look. "I won't do it for just any price. There is always another way."

They sat in silence for a while, the Dunmer running his eyes up and down Lena's figure.

"It's true then what they say about you - that you would stand up even to Sithis," he smirked. "Are you that strong?"

"No, I am not," Lena shook her head. "But I've been around the block a few times."

"Of that I have no doubt," the Dunmer murmured mostly to himself.

20 Second Seed, 4E203 - An audience with a Vampire Lord

"You asked for an audience," Lord Volkihar sat before Lena. "We've heard of you. Why have you come?"

"Your clan freed itself from Molag Bal," Lena started respectfully. "I humbly request assistance with the same task for myself." She bowed her head.

"Is that all?" Lord Volkihar laughed out loud, and several members of his court seconded his laugh. "Just a small matter then." He looked Lena over. She had drunk Fenris' blood two days previously, and now her vampirism was at full force. Fenris knelt two steps behind her. "What are you offering in return?" Lord Volkihar looked at Fenris, and Fenris cringed.

"You know what I have to offer," Lena looked straight at Lord Volkihar now. "What is your price?"

"Your slave."

"No."

"No?" Lord Volkihar raised an eyebrow, looking amused. "But he's just a slave... A common vampire, from what I can see. You can get another anywhere in Morrowind."

"So can you," Lena pointed out. "What is your real price?"

Lord Volkihar smiled, and murmurs ran through the hall, with the thralls peering to look at Fenris, still kneeling two steps behind Lena.

"Your reputation precedes you, daughter of the Wolf," Lord Volkihar was serious now. "Hircine's blood, Akatosh's blood - or is it Alduin's? Who knows. And vampirism... that one was an accident, as I understand it." Lena nodded. "Quite." He walked around her. "Do you transform at will?" He looked Lena in the eye with his sharp penetrating gaze.

"Not at will," Lena admitted. "I need undead blood to transform."

"Ah," Lord Volkihar nodded, shooting a glance at Fenris. "Your slave. Of course." He walked back to his throne, sitting down again. "You can keep your slave, we have plenty of our own." He snapped his fingers, and people started bringing food and drink to the long tables in the hall. "Stay with us a while, your slave will be safe here, worry not. We have matters to discuss." He gestured Lena to take a seat at the table. A thrall came up to Fenris, and after a nod from Lena, Fenris went with him. Lena joined the Volkihar at dinner.

...

"But since your vampirism is recessive," Lena's neighbour at the table was looking at her with curiosity. "What happens when you feed?"

"It depends how long I've been hungry for," Lena smiled at him. "But usually it goes into remission, and I become mortal again."

"Oh Gods!" The neighbour exclaimed in terror. "And lose everything?"

"Well, I lose vampiric powers, yes," Lena smiled again. "Until the next time it's triggered."

"You never really become mortal though," another courtier joined in. "I mean, we couldn't drink your blood, we'd burn to a crisp."

"Indeed, I would not recommend it," Lena turned to him. "But you would sense me and avoid such a mistake."

"That's unless you overfeed," the first courtier turned to the second. "How many times do we have to tell you - there are ex-vampires among the cattle, and they are not as rare as you might think, drink their blood and you're gone! And we have ashes to clean up."

The conversation turned to the different ways of curing vampirism, from the Witch's Potion, to Purifying Salts, Black Gem rituals, and even praying to Molag Bal - but the mention of the Prince's name quickly hushed the voices.

"Do not speak his name in this House!" Lord Volkihar's booming voice carried over the hall. "Not unless you have business with him, which you don't!" He looked at the guilty courtier who seemed to burn up under his gaze. The evening continued.

...

After dinner Lena was shown to the guest quarters which were just as lavishly furnished as the rest of the castle.

"Where is Fenris?" She asked the servant, but seeing a look of incomprehension, she added: "Where is my slave?"

"Oh, he is down below, with the other slaves, Mistress," the servant bowed. "Do you wish him by your side?" She grinned, revealing her fangs.

"Yes, I prefer him to stay with me," Lena answered, watching a glimpse of a mischievous smile cross the servant's face.

"Of course, Mistress, he will be brought up." She turned to go, but Lena stopped her with another question.

"Tell me," the servant spun around to face Lena again. "What are the house rules? Fenris will need food and feeding."

"No worries there, we have plenty of thralls," the servant smiled. "Lord Volkihar ordered to keep your slave well fed on both accounts, so he just needs to come down to the basement whenever he needs it. We want for nothing here," she added proudly, and after Lena nodded, she left.

Lord Volkihar did not specify how long he wanted Lena to stay among them. It could be a while. She would have to feed, putting her vampirism in remission, but being among so many vampires was bound to trigger it again, keeping her switching from one state to another. No, that won't do.

"Mistress, you sent for him," a thrall pushed Fenris into the room. Fenris' hands were cuffed.

"Excuse me, what were your orders exactly?" The ice in Lena's voice made the thrall go pale.

"My apologies, Mistress, won't happen again," he murmured, quickly removing Fenris' cuffs and disappearing into the depth of the castle.

"Mistress," Fenris knelt before her.

Lena looked up and down the corridor, then closed the door.

"They promised not to harm you," she said, lifting Fenris up by the shoulders. "I thought it would be better if you stayed here with me." Fenris shot her a glance of gratitude. "I don't know how long we'll be staying here, it could be a while. I should bring my vampirism out again, then we'll stop by Morthal on the way back."

"I am at your disposal." He lay down on the bed, exposing his neck.

...

"You have a vampiric thrall," one of the courtiers looked at Lena with envy at breakfast. "I saw fresh bite marks on his neck."

"Yes, is it so unusual?" Lena smiled at him, knowing full well just how unusual it was. A murmur went around the table in the hall as Lord Volkihar entered the room.

"Excellent," he commented, looking at Lena. "We can begin after breakfast."

"Begin what?" Lena looked up.

"Your contribution," he smiled. "If you agree to my terms, that is."

...

"What we really want from you, is blood," Lord Volkihar took Lena to a room that looked like a laboratory. "Your bloodlines will add to our own, but we don't want to go through the tedious business of a nine months pregnancy," he cringed. "We have better ways."

An array of large glass cylinders filled with clear liquid was suddenly lit up by magical light. Flesh sacks were suspended in the liquid.

"My future children," Lord Volkihar gestured at the cylinders. "Since we are immortal, we do not wish for a lot of new additions, and none of my wives are willing to go through pregnancy anyway," he smiled. "You've endured it," Lena nodded. "So you know how tedious it is. We let the glass do the work instead." He snapped his fingers and another array of magical lights was ignited. "You will need to fill these viles with your blood," he gestured at the table. "Then we will help you."

"This will drain me completely," said Lena looking at the size of the viles. "I won't survive it. Death is not the solution I had in mind."

"No, and I don't propose that," Lord Volkihar smiled at her. "We shall give you replacement blood - some of our own."

They were standing in the middle of the laboratory looking at each other. Both their glances were hard and unbending.

"What effect will it have on me long term?" Lena asked.

"You will gain some of our powers," Lord Volkihar answered, without taking his eyes off her, watching her reaction. "You will be able to transform at will. You will glide through the ice. You will freeze the blood of others with your sheer presence - although I think you can do this already," he chuckled. "You will be a pure-blood vampire."

"If I wanted that, I could have just taken up Molag Bal on his offer," Lena smirked. "No deal."

"Oh, he offered you that, did he?" Lord Volkihar raised an eyebrow in genuine surprise, here was something he hadn't anticipated. "And this is why you want to free yourself from him?" Lena nodded. "Forgive me, I misjudged you." He went around the table taking a seat behind it and gesturing Lena to a chair. "This changes everything. You are also Molag Bal's chosen. Well, well."

He looked through some scrolls before him, consulted some books, then spoke again.

"We will still want some of your blood, but not quite as much. We will give you some of our own, and you will retain your personality and not become a pure-blood, but I cannot promise that your vampirism will remain recessive. If you wanted any of our powers, you will have to learn them while you are here. Or come back later and give us more blood. We cannot free you from Molag Bal if you are his chosen, only you yourself can do it, but we can help you with that. Do you accept?" He looked at Lena across the table. This was his final offer.

"I do," she said and bowed.

...

The following few weeks were draining, quite literally. The Volkihar wanted a lot of blood, although not quite so much as to cause Lena permanent harm. She would not receive any of their blood to substitute her losses until they were quite finished - the bloodlines had to be kept clean. Fenris was eating and feeding for two, and Lena fed on him. Finally, the debt was paid.

"Take a few days to rest, then we'll start the training," Lord Volkihar told Lena, looking over the filled viles in the laboratory. "Your contribution is invaluable to us, make no mistake. You are now one of us," he smiled. "You will always be welcome here, but remember that additional training will require additional payment."

"Indeed," Lena smiled. "Let's not allow family to get in the way of business."

...

With the blood from the Volkihar Lena could finally block out Molag Bal. It was as simple as that - she had to say no. But now Molag Bal had to listen, because she carried some of his blood. She wasn't a pure-blood vampire, but she was no common vampire either. She could transform at will.

"You learn very quickly," her instructor was impressed. "It takes months to master this even for the best of us, and we start as children. How do you do that?"

"I don't know," Lena shrugged her shoulders. "I just do."

"Hircine's blood," an older woman walked in. "That's why the Lord wanted her blood. She's a werewolf."

"I don't think I am..." Lena started, but the younger woman put a finger to her lips. It was best not to argue. Werewolf. Wonderful. Geralt's orange eyes rose up in her memories. "The Hunt is on," he had said. Indeed.

Whoa, Lena's after skooma???? Nooo!!!!

Okay phew. Not for her. For someone in the SI. Is Wolf Sanctuary just the Cheydinhal Sancturary, renamed?

Wow, Skyrim Observatory. Cool-looking mod. Ah, she's going to Pale Pass. 🏔



Ha ha I know the feeling! Sometimes it gets tedious, right? Some fights are invigorating... energizing, the adrenaline rush is what I crave! Other fights... it's like "meh". C'mon, you really want to go for me NOW? Totally get it. Going invisible is sometimes the best solution.

Whoa, she's paralyzed! Cripes. Molag Bal is speaking to her. She seems to be viewing some scene from the past between a past Speaker and this Lillian Delacour.

http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?s=&...st&p=338088

1 Midyear, 4E203 - Morthal

Midyear 203 of the 4th Era greeted Lena with warm weather as soon as she and Fenris left Castle Volkihar and crossed the water to Dawnstar. Oh, the ground still had a light dusting of snow, but the air felt warm and the sun was shining with all its Northern might. Yet Lena was cold. Not only had she been a vampire for a month or so, she had also given much of her blood, and Volkihar's replacement blood wasn't exactly hot. But all these sacrifices were worth it: she could finally block out Molag Bal from her mind.

By the time she and Fenris reached the shore, the sun indeed rose and started burning them relentlessly. They needed shelter immediately, and to Lena's surprise, the local inn had no objections to a couple of vampires renting a room.

"Keep to yourselves and we'll have no problems," the innkeeper looked sternly at them. "We judge people by their behaviour, not by the colour of their eyes," she added proudly, serving them food as well. Their gold was evidently as good as anyone else's.

"Do you know if Felion still lives in Morthal?" Lena decided to ask.

"The mage?" The innkeeper squinted. "Aye, that he does," she nodded. "Not a bad sort he is, mind you, tries to help folks, never harms anyone, and I don't care what other people might say!" She added with a challenge. Then, realising that no one was challenging her, she softened her tone again. "He's been having a bit of a problem there though. Not just him, mind, there's been a bit of a problem going on there recently. Some of it got solved, I hear - a new fellow, white hair, good with swords, from far away, strange accent, but a Nord by the looks of him," she recited the rumour. "Not that I've seen him... but people talk. Gerrit or Geralt or Gert or something's his name. You'll run into him, I wager." She put down a pot of stew she was holding and brought some more bread.

"Oh?" Lena raised an eyebrow, wanting to hear more. Last time she saw Geralt, he mentioned that he was looking to buy a house on the moors. Well, it seemed he made his way to Morthal after all. "What else do people say about this new fellow?" She smiled encouragingly.

"Well..." The innkeeper looked over her shoulder for some reason, but as the inn was otherwise empty, she sat down at the table with Lena and Fenris, lowering her voice. "They say he's a werewolf," she said and her eyes widened. "He's got eyes like an Orc or an Argonian - orange, with a vertical pupil," she looked from Lena to Fenris and back to Lena. "Weird, like."

"Do werewolves have eyes with a vertical pupil, then?" Lena looked pensive. "Hmm... not the ones I've ever met..."

"You..! What..?" The innkeeper was taken aback.

"I wasn't always a vampire," Lena smiled. "Done a fair amount of adventuring myself. Vampirism is just a disease, nothing more. Which is why I need Felion to get it under control again."

"Oh," the innkeeper relaxed and smiled too. "I thought you looked a decent sort," she nodded to her own sound judgement of Lena's character. "Well, I don't know about that new fellow, really. Like I said, never met him myself. And people do talk..." She blushed, embarrassed for having repeated the rumours. "So werewolves have round pupils, you say?" She squinted at Lena. "And red eyes? No? Orange eyes? Blue? Don't matter... So he ain't a werewolf then. Good," she was muttering to herself, having slipped into the local colloquial tongue. "We're used to vampires, you see," she looked up at Lena, shifting back to correct Cyrodilic again, "what with the Volkihar castle just there and plenty of vampires on the moors. We have an understanding. But werewolves are not the same, not native to these parts, like."

"Have there been a lot of sightings of werewolves, then?" Lena asked with a slight worry. Could Hircine's Great Hunt be already on?

"There've been some," the innkeeper nodded. "Not at full moons either, which is odd," she mused. "But no one really knows..." She looked into the distance, thinking of something. "My cousin lives down South, she says there are packs of them roaming the Jeralls," she shot Lena a glance. "The Legion keeps them out of Cyrodiil, but there ain't enough Legion soldies to cover all of Skyrim..." She sighed. "Something's up, I can feel it." She added with certainty and got up. "Anyway, stay a few days, you look pale," she brought some more wine and cheese to the table. "We've heard what you've been through." Lena raised her eyes in genuine surprise, and the innkeeper smiled. "People do talk, didn't I say?"

...

A few days later, just after sunset, Lena and Fenris set off towards Morthal. It was a fair distance away and they wanted to avoid getting sunburn. Lena wasn't sufficiently familiar with the area to know of any suitable caves to spend the day in. They decided to travel along the shore to avoid meeting anyone, friend or foe, and they were certain they could handle any spiders or chaurusses inhabiting the moors.

Lena thought they must have passed Morthal already, as it wasn't right on the shore, when she saw lights ahead, then a tower - a house was overlooking the sea.

"Better come inside, the moors are not safe this time of night," a voice said in her ear, making her jump. "I heard you approach for a mile at least," Geralt grinned. They hugged in a greeting, then he pulled away to have a good look at her face. "So, it was you then. Folk were talking about someone having gone to Castle Volkihar and staying there a long time. You look famished," he shook his head.

"We haven't fed for five days," Lena nodded. "Didn't want to bother the folk in Dawnstar, and bottled blood only goes a short way. And I am more than a full vampire now," she sighed.

Geralt shot a glance at Fenris, nodding to him.

"Is that your... umm... companion from the Leyawiin place?" He asked, looking him over more thoroughly.

"Yes, Fenris," Lena turned, gesturing Fenris to come close. "Fenris, this is Geralt, my brother. He is a witcher."

Fenris approached with caution.

"I've never met a witcher before, but I heard you undergo mutations as children," he spoke gingerly. "You have a most unusual scent... if you forgive my impertinence."

"I most likely do," Geralt smiled. "And zombie dung will be the bulk of it - I haven't had a chance to bathe properly after... well, I'll tell you later," he looked at Lena with some urgency. "There will be plenty of time for talk and bathing, but you two need to get inside because the dawn is upon us."

He started walking towards the house motioning them to follow. The sun was rising.

Once inside, Geralt put some food on the table and Lena and Fenris gratefully sat down, tired after their long trek.

"There is a place where you can feed as much as you want," Geralt was looking at them as they ate - at this stage, food only offered a marginal sustenance. "But it comes with some fighting."

"And when does it not," Lena smirked. "You're not suggesting we go to Morthal, I hope?"

"No, I am not," Geralt shook his head. "There are a lot of vampires on these moors, but you knew that, I guess. They keep their own cattle. But recently also some necromancers moved in. I beat them back already a while ago - which is how I got this house - and the moors are a lot safer now, but those damnable zombies are still appearing regularly, and so I know the necromancers are not completely gone. Just had to clear out a horde of their walking corpses again, hence the smell. So as far as I am concerned, the necromancers are cattle. Feed as much as you like. But to get to one of their lairs, we'll have to beat back some zombies."

"Whenever you are ready," Fenris checked his dagger.

"After sunset," Geralt nodded. "And you'll want a better weapon, a silver sword is best, just don't cut yourself. Pick one," he jerked his head towards a weapon rack. "Well, there are steel swords there too," he added, noticing Fenris' hesitation.

...

Their expedition to the nearest necromancer layer the following night was successful. Lena also made it a point to demonstrate to the necromancers that she and Fenris were not with the local vampires - she wanted to do everything she could to avoid another large conflict of the undead on the moors. To prove her point, she dropped her clothes, causing everyone to momentarily freeze, then she let them watch her skin transform from pale pink to leathery grey. She didn't quite have bat wings like Lord Volkihar, but her whole appearance was unmistakable, and didn't fail to impress.

"W-we want no t-trouble with Clan V-volkihar," one of the necromancers stuttered. "W-we l-leave you to it," he turned and decidedly ran into the depth of the lair. The others pushed two lower ranking members of their group towards Lena and Fenris and took off after their leader. Dinner was served.

...

The following evening, after a long bath in Geralt's bathhouse and a good rest, Lena, Geralt and Fenris went to Morthal to see Felion about putting Lena's vampirism into remission. Drinking mortal blood no longer worked since she drank Fenris' undead blood when they first approached the Volkihar. She now required a "proper" cure, and although nothing would really cure her vampirism, she hoped a remission could still be achieved. And so they knocked on Felion's door.

"Geralt!" He opened the door with a smile, seeing his friend. "And... friends?"

"My sister and her companion," Geralt nodded. "We need a favour."

Felion was very accommodating. Curing vampirism was something he'd done many times, and in fact he chose Morthal as his place of residence because he could help so many people in those parts - vampirism was rampant on the moors. He didn't know if his rituals always had a life-long effect, but he knew that they worked no worse than the infamous Witch's Potion.

"My method is much easier, cheaper and altogether more accessible to anyone who wants it," he was saying with some pride. "And the results are just as good. I am confident we should be able to put your vampirism into remission." He nodded to himself, but somehow his sentence didn't sound complete.

"But?" Lena prompted him. "I feel a 'but' coming."

"But..." Felion coughed. "There is a problem. The grotto where I perform the ritual... it's got a healing spring, so it's got to be there... well... but it's got an infestation of some kind and needs to be cleared before it can be used." He looked apologetic. "I am sorry. The problem is fairly recent, and I suspect it was caused by that zombie plague you've cleared," he turned to Geralt. "But these pests are quite different, although also probably undead... never seen anything like it."

"Well, why didn't you say so earlier!" Geralt sighed with relief. "I am a witcher, you know. Clearing monsters is what I do!" He laughed.

"Glad you take it in good spirits," Felion smiled. "They do seem quite dangerous, and numerous. I bet there's a broodmother of some sort there, and..."

"...and I'll need to get her in order to truly exterminate them," Geralt nodded. "Yeah, I know the drill. Where is this grotto?"

...

The "holiday in Morthal", as Lena was referring to these few weeks later, was relaxing after all. Geralt would not accept any help clearing the grotto, and he seemed no worse for wear when he came out, apart from the smell. "A bunch of drowners that the sirens dragged in," was his verdict. "Not a brood, more of a wild party," he smirked. "Closed down now."

The spring cleared up within a few days afterwards, and Lena delivered two black soul gems to Felion for the ritual - the necromancers were all too willing to share some of theirs. Finally Lena's vampirism receded and she stepped out into the Northern sunshine for the first time in several months.

"Time to go home," she suddenly longed for everyone back in Cyrodiil.

"Did you achieve what you wanted when you set off to see the Volkihar?" Geralt gave her a long look. "You paid dearly for that."

"I have," Lena nodded. "Molag Bal is no longer in my head," she smiled. "Or rather, he probably still is, but dares not to speak up unless I let him. It's good enough," she said firmly, also adding another "Stay out of my head!" thought directed at Molag Bal. "There was something Lord Volkihar said though," she looked into Geralt's orange eyes. "Hircine's blood. He said I had Hircine's blood. You have Hircine's blood. Was that from our father? But you are not a werewolf! I am not a werewolf! Are we?" Her voice faultered.

"Not a common werewolf, no," Geralt answered in a low voice. "We don't howl to the moons, the transformation is not being forced upon us. But Hircine's blood... yeah, it's rising in me now. The Hunt is on, and I am being summonned. I'll travel to Solstheim after you leave."

"But I don't feel it..." Lena was unsure. "Why you but not me?"

"Why are you Dragonborn but I am not?" Geralt answered with a question.

"Take care of yourself," Lena hugged him.

Felion was watching them from the doorstep of his house. He knew more than he let on, he knew all about Lena's visit to the Volkihar, but he chose to ask her to tell him what she would, not wishing to appear impolite. He knew of Geralt's condition as well, Geralt wasn't a common werewolf, but he wasn't quite human either. Felion did not believe for a moment that Hircine's blood caused his mutations. "Hircine's blood is probably why he survived the witcher trials," he reckoned. "He is a Prime, that's plain to see." He watched them say their goodbyes as Lena and Fenris headed South, to Cyrodiil. "What a remarkable family." Felion shook his head, wondering what other adventures life had in store for them, and feeling certain that boredom was not on the list.

Felion mentions monsters both dangerous and numerous with a suspected brood-mother of some sort and Geralt is raring to go. Great stuff.

"So as far as I am concerned, the necromancers are cattle. Feed as much as you like."
- - I like Geralt's way of thinking.

2 Midyear, 4E203 - Babysitting

Lucien was walking towards the Chapel in Cheydinhal holding little Derric in his arms. Most people stopped to watch, even though his trip was very short - their house was just across the street. He paused at the door getting a hand free to push it, when someone opened it for him.

"Thanks," Lucien nodded to the stranger, meeting his smiling and curious eyes.

Inside the chapel the scene repeated itself. Everyone stared. Lucien looked around for a priest - he came here with a purpose.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" Primate Garrana looked down at Lucien sternly, making it a point not to add "my son".

"I am looking for a healer," Lucien answered pleasantly, pretending not to notice the hostility. "You have one, don't you?"

"Of course we do!" The Primate barked at him. "In the Chapel Hall, down the stairs, the door straight ahead. Not the doors behind you," she added, her brow furrowed.

"Why would I want to go to the Undercroft?" Lucien kept smiling, but his eyes were icy. The Primate backed off, and he went down the steps to the Chapel Hall.

Ohtesse was setting the table for dinner. She looked up when Lucien opened the door, and noticing the baby in his arms, ran up to him and pulled him into a side room.

"Is everything all right? We don't normally get visits from assassins... err... men with babies," she said with a worried look on her face.

"Well, it is probably not serious, but I wasn't sure," Lucien put Derric on the bed, and Derric immediately started crying. "He is hot, I think he might be ill. Lena is out of town, and I am not a healer."

"No, let me see," Ohtesse switched to her professional stance. "Oh, just a seasonal fever, nothing to worry about." She cast some healing magic at the child and he calmed down. "This will keep him calm for a bit, but you'll need these... twice a day." She set some vials in front of Lucien. "For a few days. And keep him warm."

"Thanks," Lucien took the vials replacing them with payment. "I trust you accept payment from assassins?" He smiled at her.

"Oh... forgive me," Ohtesse turned away but Lucien noticed her blushing. "We..." She sighed. "Your wife comes in often enough, and we know why... We know who she's praying for. The Primate is irate about it, but can't throw her out - Arkay accepts her prayers and grants her his blessing, we can see that. She... the Primate, I mean... she wants us to turn you people away, but she can't because Arkay accepts your wife... She even took it to the Council in the Imperial City! 'No, if Arkay accepts her, so do we,' she was told. But shhh... I didn't tell you this..." She looked over her shoulder to make sure they weren't overheard.

"That's amusing," Lucien smiled at her. "About your Primate. Perhaps I should have a word with her..." He stopped, noticing Ohtesse's worried expression. "As a former disciple of Dibella, I mean."

"Oh of course!" She gasped, realising the connection. "You are the..." She clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a giggle. "Of Anvil! Of course!"

"Yes..." Lucien watched Ohtesse laugh which made her look a lot younger. Two hundred years younger, in fact. High Elves had such long lives... She was already a Priestess when he was just a youngster, a novice of Dibella... "You switched to healing, I see."

"I got old..." She sighed. "Not ready to die yet, but no longer fit for the services of Dibella. Arkay suits me better these days."

"I see you as beautiful as ever," Lucien objected and Ohtesse blushed again. "Why do you bury yourself here? I've never seen you around town."

"No... I don't venture out much any more, Luce..." She was lost in thought, then blushed deeply realising she just used his pet name.

"It's all right," he smiled, cradling Derric in his arms and preparing to leave. "Now that you remembered me... Call if you need help, I've learned a few tricks since then."

He bowed his head respectfully and left.

"Well, would you look at that..." Ohtesse stood transfixed looking at the door as it shut behind him. "Sweet Luce... Lucien Lachance, Master Assassin, one and the same..." She mused, lost in memories. "He's right, I should get out more... why have I never made the connection? The solution seems to have been right here all this time..."

"We serve Arkay here, not Dibella," a stern voice brought her out of her reverie. Primate Garrana entered the room. "What did he want?"

"Healing for his son," Ohtesse answered coldly.

"We don't want his sort here, you know that," the Primate continued. "Arkay does not approve of murder. Or of frivolous love making."

"What?!" Ohtesse turned to her, her cheeks red with anger.

"Oh please!" The Primate's voice was mocking. "Did you just find out who he was? A Dibellan turned assassin? Or did too much pleasure fog up your brain?"

There was a noise in the main room - someone was calling for a healer.

"I have work to do." Ohtesse brushed past the Primate, almost pushing her aside. Yes, she should get out more. She wasn't dead yet.

7 Midyear, 4E203 - Ohtesse's favour

Ohtesse was looking over her shoulder as she pushed the door of the Chapel of Arkay in Cheydinhal. It wasn't forbidden for the disciples of Arkay to leave the Chapel, of course, but Ohtesse wasn't on very good terms with the Primate. "We serve Arkay here, not Dibella" and "You are a healer now, not a Priestess" were the Primate's two favourite phrases, and frankly Ohtesse had had enough. She was an ageing Altmer, and so much older than Primate Garrana who was an Imperial... which is why Ohtesse usually just ignored these comments. She used to be a Priestess of Dibella, she used to train novices, teach them the ways of beauty and pleasure... But she got old and felt that she was no longer doing Dibella a service in that capacity. A healer's position with the Chapel of Arkay in Cheydinhal became available, and Ohtesse took it believing that she could now do more good with her healing than with her devotions to Dibella. And Arkay was waiting for her at the end of the line anyway, so why not make his acquaintance a little earlier.

What Ohtesse didn't count on was the animosity of the Primate towards Dibella and Dibellans. "Aren't we subjects of the Nine though? All of them?" Ohtesse asked once.

"You are naive if you think that," was the Primate's haughty response. "Arkay is miles above Dibella." And that put Ohtesse in her place right at the bottom of the clerical hierarchy, at least in the Primate's eyes.

This was some forty years ago - a long time in a life of an Imperial, but a short stretch for an Altmer. Yet much had happened in that time. The Great War had brought a lot of work for the servants of Arkay, both attending to the dead and to the living - Ohtesse treated more wounds than diseases in those years. Yet despite her best efforts, many soldiers didn't make it - they were brought in too late, their wounds were too severe. She treated so many elves... including the Aldmeri. Arkay took them all in, and it was not befitting for the Chapel to turn away the enemy.

Primate Garrana never liked Ohtesse. First, Ohtesse was an elf - an Altmer, not of the Aldmeri Dominion but of the Empire of Tamriel, but many people saw no difference. But even more than her elven origin, the Primate resented Ohtesse's prior devotion to Dibella - devotion that she never gave up. "We serve the Nine," she would object. It was true, and the Primate could not dismiss Ohtesse, not that she didn't try.

Then one day an Aldmeri agent was brought in with deep wounds, and Ohtesse saw immediately that he would not survive. She lifted his pain as she normally did in such situations - she did not believe in unnecessary suffering. He stayed with them for a few days, his last remaining days on Nirn.

"You are different from the others," he said to Ohtesse after one of the healing sessions. "You do not resent me."

"No," she smiled at him. "We treat all that need treatment. We do not turn away the Aldmeri, for we are all children of the Nine."

"Of the Eight, but yes," he corrected her with a smile. "Talos is like Vivec - not an Aedra."

"No..." Ohtesse paused, watching him and noting that he didn't say "a false god". "You've given it some thought, haven't you... Well, I do not normally pray to Talos, so I don't mind one way or the other."

"This is a Chapel of Arkay, is it not?" The Aldmeri looked at her intently. "But you are a Priestess of Dibella."

"I was," Ohtesse corrected him. "I am a healer here now."

"You don't stop being her Priestess any more than you can stop being an elf," the Aldmeri smirked. "Who do you pray to in your time of need, Healer?"

Their eyes met and they sat there in silence for a while, for they both knew the answer.

...

The Abandoned House across the street was boarded up, but that was only cosmetic. Ohtesse had discovered it a long time ago - she would sometimes go there to cool off after yet another stingy remark from the Primate. The house wasn't lived in, but it wasn't all that abandoned either - Ohtesse would often notice traces of someone having been there. There was even a bed and a few other bits of furniture, and the drawers kept unusual leather armour, daggers and soul gems. And of course there was the Black Door in the basement.

The Chapel of Arkay was overflowing with wounded after yet another big battle, and beds were in short supply. "Come with me," Ohtesse offered her shoulder to the Aldmeri agent who was now too weak to walk on his own. "I'll take you to a quieter place."

"I don't have long," he nodded. "Thank you."

She took him to the Abandoned House across the street, and no one paid any attention to them - this was just another wounded being helped by a healer. Which way were they going? No one noticed in the tumult. No one except the Primate.

The next few days were very busy, but even in the busiest of times the healers had to rest, or they would have no magicka for healing - everyone knew that. And with the Chapel overflowing, the healers would normally retire to the Mages Guild or to a friend's house, so again no one noticed that Ohtesse was spending time in the Abandoned House.

"You are no longer a Priestess of Dibella!" The Primate spat at her one morning as she entered the Chapel ready to start healing. "And we do not provide those services! You are a disgrace for sleeping with him!"

Ohtesse turned pale but bit her lip and didn't answer. It was her private affair, none of the Primate's business.

...

The Aldmeri agent died a few days later. He received the rites of Arkay together with the other soldiers who also died on that day. He was interred in the Undercroft in a "communal grave". Ohtesse stopped leaving the Chapel.

...

"You are a disgrace, you must get rid of that!" The Primate spat at her again, pointing at her pregnant belly. "That spawn of the enemy!"

...

A year later the War was over, and Ohtesse returned to the Chapel of Arkay to resume her services as a healer. The Legion no longer needed field healers, and the Council insisted that the Primate should accept Ohtesse back at the Chapel. "She is a gifted healer, a devote of the Divines, and you have no reason to refuse," she was told. Fuming, the Primate had to submit. "Oh, and no more talk about Dibella versus Arkay kind of nonsense!" The Councillor looked at the Primate sternly. "We serve the Nine... err... the Eight... regardless, we serve both Arkay and Dibella. Get over it!"

...

Ohtesse's child was an Aldmeri. The boy's colouration gave him away even at an early age, and Ohtesse had to admit that he would not be safe in Cyrodiil for a long time to come. He was born in a tent by a battlefield, surrounded by moans of the wounded and prayers for the dead.

"He is a child of Arkay," the Priest told her, having assisted with the birth. "The God of Life and Death will watch over your child. What do you wish to call him?"

"Sauron," she smiled at the Priest holding her baby. "Sauron Ohtaari Arawe Aldmeri."

"Of Shimmerene?" The Priest raised an eyebrow, an Altmer himself. He passed the baby to Ohtesse and took out a scroll writing a birth certificate.

"No, that was his father," Ohtesse smiled, cradling the child, recognising his father's features in him. It wasn't true that all babies looked the same. "Sauron was born here... So what shall we say? Of Applewatch?" She winked, casting around for the nearest landmark.

"Of Rielle," the Priest offered.

...

Back in the Summer of 4E203 Ohtesse had had enough of the Primate's remarks regarding her past Priesthood of Dibella and "other sins", so she was now once again pushing the door of the Abandoned House in Cheydinhal - abandoned no longer, but known as the Wolf Sanctuary, or more recently the Lachances' House.

"Hello!" She cried out in the entrance hall, barely recognising it. She never came here after Lena took over the house and fixed it up. "Anybody home?"

"Up here!" She heard Lucien reply, then saw his face appearing at the top of the stairs. "Ohtesse. Welcome." He gestured her in, offering refreshments. "I am at your service."

"I..." Ohtesse blushed, not sure where to begin. "It's about my son. I want to find him... It isn't exactly in your line of work, I know..."

"And you are not performing the Sacrament either," Lucien nodded. "This has nothing to do with the Brotherhood, does it?"

"Not that I know of," Ohtesse agreed. "But he's a grown man now. Young for an elf of course, but adult."

"Where should I begin?" Lucien was taking it in, making mental notes.

"Falkreath. But he's not there - I already spoke to Runil, their Priest of Arkay. He thought Sauron was taken North... It wouldn't have been an orphanage - he would have stayed with the Chapels, at least while he was still a child." She paused, looking around uneasily. "He looks Aldmeri," she added.

"I see," Lucien nodded. "What should I say to him when I find him?"

"You seem certain..." Ohtesse looked at him with doubt in her eyes. "I don't even know if he lives!"

"Assume that he does. What shall I say to him?" Lucien insisted.

"Tell him of his father - Sarulian Arawe Aldmeri of Shimmerene. He fell in the Great War and is buried here. Our time in this world was short... And I could not keep the child... not then," she sighed. "But this is why I returned here, this is why I choose to ignore the Primate and her remarks. Sarulian is here, and so am I."

"It will take time," Lucien looked at her, having made up his mind how to proceed. "It will not go through the Brotherhood. And Skyrim is big. How much of a secret is it?"

"It isn't really a secret," Ohtesse smiled at him. "People know I had a son with an Aldmeri agent - the Primate made sure to spread the news!" The contempt in her voice was unmistakable. "But I don't want you to do anything about that - not yet, anyway."

"The Night Mother will hear your prayer if that time comes," Lucien smiled. "We don't do 'jobs on the side' despite people believing otherwise. Do not worry. But still, I think we should step lightly regarding your son - we do not know who he is or what he does."

They talked a while longer, with Ohtesse telling Lucien of the past events and everything she could think of that could be helpful. Finally, she rose to leave.

"Thank you, Luce," she smiled at him, stroking his cheek like that of a child. "You haven't changed a bit."

He kissed her hand, seeing a Priestess of Dibella before him and feeling sixteen again...

It is neat she summons Dessos the Dremora to watch over her sleeping. That'd be so much better than a guard dog which barks every time a delivery man shows up, or a raccoon scrambles through the trash.

She also uses that shout against the locked safe, nice. What is inside? -- Ooh, sounds disappointing. Her father feels bad for "failing" his children. Well, at least she knows the truth, now.

Wow, Lucien now has Poryporic Hemophilia. Hey, he made it this far without contracting that disease! Some characters don't make it through one dungeon without getting sick. -- Yeah, I don't think he can just "go to chapeL" to get cured. Seems the man's Infamy must be through the sky by now.

Sounds like Lachance cannot be helped. Maybe he can try asking one of the Daedra, but they might want something vile in return.

http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?s=&...st&p=338224

Yeah, he cannot just get a standard blessing, that's for sure. But you can always pray to one of the gods individually, and they don't all judge mortals in the same way. He got help from an unexpected corner after all, leaving Lena wondering.

She kills Corvus Umbranox, and then rammages through his contracts. Wow, I'm surprised that guy was still around after 200+ years! Cool, she's going to Sundercliff Watch. macole was just there with his Field Hippies. That's a fun place to explore, for those of us who love to delve DEEP.



That's the most polite psychic guard! Apparently Lena's not immediately branded as CRIMINAL SCUM!!

-- Anvil Bay Expansion looks really lovely.

Next she goes to Kvatch, and you've got something called Kvatch Finished. Never heard of that one. I seem to be the only one of us who hasn't used Kvatch Rebuilt (I've got Kvatch Rising). Anyway, I love the part when you describe her flashbacks. Even after all she's seen and done, that particular burning town still gives her the chills.



Nice. And despite her protest, they've given her The Wolf Residence, not even knowing if she'd ever return. Sigh. Why can't real-life be so rewarding?

Yah, that is bizarre, about the Dragon Armor being in this mod-added home. Okay, one more chapter. She's exploring the town, speaking to residents, and so on.

Really enjoy how you've just written up a couple chapters with nothing much going on. No bloodshed, etc. I think this is important for any RPG to not just be about pwn4g3 and buffing stats. It's so relaxing! 🤓

Kvatch Finished: it's a mod I found, someone took Kvatch Rebuilt and tried to fill in Kvatch as it was before the invasion. It isn't finished at all despite the name, but gives you another look at things, I guess.


Well, that's because I put it there. Because I built the house. And the mod that I was actually playing. It is partly based on Kvatch Finished and partly on Kvatch Roses of Success - another unfinished Kvatch mod. My version is also unfinished (there seems to be a pattern there). It was my very first serious mod and I botched it up so badly, it will take a long time to fix it up, now that I know a bit better what I'm doing. One day I'll return to it, it did have a neat story.

Glad you're enjoying peace as well as war.

A note to the readers. I have not given up on this story, in fact I still have so many adventures in my head! But I've been very busy building release 3 of TWMP Skyrim Alive, and besides the lovely creative side it also came to possess a rather boring technical side. Separating Northern provinces from one another, swapping out creatures that might be in breach of copyright, extending Tamriel Resource Pack - these are all very necessary tasks but alas! - they do not stimulate story writing.

As a consequence this story is taking a break. It will continue with Geralt going to Solstheim, just like he told Lena. He feels the call of Hircine and has to join the Great Hunt of the 4th Era - this will be based on the Bloodmoon DLC of Morrowind, played in Morroblivion. This is Geralt's story - he came to Tamriel looking for his roots, and so far he and Lena only found one letter from their father addressed to them, and no further traces. Yet it seems various people know more... And now, with his blood boiling, he has no choice but to heed Hircine's call and see where it leads him.

Stay tuned. It may take a few weeks, but Geralt is due to take central stage next.

Sure, but who put it there in imagination? Somebody in the gameworld must've known Lena would show up to claim this house after all.


Yes, and now it's time for more. Whoops, where's my bookmark?

That is really bizarre, the whole doubles thing going on in Kvatch. You mention something about an unfinished worldspace, while macole mentions Valenwood. I tried to explore Valenwood myself, was really psyched to do so. It's a mess to explore, though. CTD after CTD (while my mainland Cyrodiil rarely crashes) rips and tears in the terrain, and so on. I began trying to fix some of this, but as you've noted it's a lot of work. How far did you get with Kvatch "Finished"?

Whoa, the chapel full of ghosts is really cool. This is crazy. Martin is mad at Lena for starting the Oblivion Crisis! Come on, now! Don't be so daft, fellow.

Mehrunes Maze: never heard of that one, but it's made by David Brasher, one of my favorite authors/world-builders. Have you explored any of his work? Be forewarned: he's got a habit of making UBER enemies sometimes. Ridiculously overpowered with hitpoints! I would actually go through his mods beforehand in the CS, just to nerf some of those enemies. Because it's just not fun after a while, if every enemy is a boss.

But he's very good sometimes with making unique and fun dungeons to explore.

Are there twin ghosts, or just that one instance?

http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?s=&...st&p=338435

I had no issues at all with Valenwood. But of course that's because I explored TWMP Valenwood Improved rather that the original. It seems that Haldar fixed a lot of issues with it when he converted it for TWMP. It's exactly the same mod... minus the bugs.

"Kvatch Finished" is not my mod. It is an actual mod - here. My mod (code name "Kvatch Duplicated") is not finished. It is a combination of "Kvatch Finished" and "Kvatch Roses of Success". It was my first serious mod and I made every mistake you could imagine, so that in the end my game was crashing every 30 seconds or so. And I gave up! But by now I understand what I've done wrong, I intend to go back to it, fix it and finish it up. Because, yeah, the story is kinda cool...


I could not stand him when I played the Main Quest. Now he's getting it!


I like his stuff as well! I have explored some of it in game, and quite a bit of it in the CS. I used a lot of it in Skyrim and also in some other mods, like here in Kvatch.


Ghosts were not duplicated, only people. The cathedral is quite ordinary in the other Kvatch.

7 Sun's Dawn, 4E195 - The Butcher of Blaviken

The Butcher of Blaviken opened one eye and looked at the man holding the heavy tapestry of his tent open.

"King Foltest requires your presence, Sire," the man said without much conviction on the word "Sire". He looked at the red-haired woman on the luxurious bed in this tent fit for royalty, then dropped the tapestry, turning to leave. "The witch got what she wanted," he smirked to himself.

Geralt sat up in bed, he was having one of those dreams again when the man woke him up. An uprisal of humans against non-humans, and he, a witcher that should have stayed out of politics, just couldn't see elves, dwarves and halflinks being slaughtered. Not that they didn't put up a fight - one dwarf can easily take on three humans, size notwithstanding. But there were far more than three humans for each non-human in that mob in Blaviken. And so, hearing shouts "Mutant!" once again, Geralt joined the fight. He later learned with  surprise that "the Butcher of Blaviken" was what people took to calling him after that. Everyone, human and non-human.

He couldn't remember how the fight ended. He didn't see piles of corpses sliced in two with his razor sharp meteoric steel sword. The screams faded. The lights dimmed. He felt a sharp pain in his chest, saw a long wooden handle protruding from it - a pitchfork? Then - nothing.

That was half a year ago. Not only could Geralt not remember the fight, he could not remember almost anything that happened before that day either. What he knew of himself today, was what his friends and enemies chose to tell him. He was having strange dreams like the one he just woke from, he guessed they were flashes from his memory, but they were too vague to make anything out.

The red-haired woman turned languidly on the bed, waking up too. Her perfect body was craving attention, and Geralt paused his glance on her for longer than he had wanted. She smiled, confident of her charm.

"The king has summoned us," Geralt ripped his gaze from Triss' body. "Well, me," he corrected himself. "You can go back to sleep."

"I'm awake now," Triss smirked, letting the covers completely slide off and stretching her hand to lightly caress Geralt's many scars. "Foltest can wait." Her voice was expectant.

"Not today." Geralt got up and started getting dressed.

Triss was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful women he ever met. Red-haired and green-eyed, with perfect feminine curves, there was nothing that Geralt didn't like. Except when the dreams came. The dream made it all feel wrong somehow, and Geralt's desire for the redhead in his bed suddenly dwindled. He couldn't put his finger on it. If only he could remember!

...

"This is the day of the big assault, and with you as my bodyguard, nothing can go wrong!" The king asserted confidently seeing Geralt approach.

"Witchers don't mix in politics," Geralt reminded him. "I should not be here at all."

King Foltest smirked at that. How could Geralt not be there! It was he who saved King Foltest from an attempted assassination, and from that moment on, Geralt became attached to King Foltest's court. What better bodyguard than a witcher! Especially one whose memory had been wiped and who, therefore, could be made to believe anything the King wanted.

"When this is over, I am leaving," Geralt said in no uncertain terms. "It is not my place to be at any king's court. I should be out there fighting monsters."

"Well, if you must," the king conceded with a sigh. He knew he could not hold Geralt forever. "And with you I'll loose my Court Sorceress as well."

"You think she'll come with me?" Geralt's eyes lit up as he thought of Triss.

"Of course she will!" The king laughed. "The woman is infatuated with you, can't you see?"

...

The battle that followed was bloody as battles go, with Geralt having to do most of the butchery. Why him? He was no soldier. But he was able, and that was enough. Strangely, a dragon appeared in the end, and there indeed Geralt's skills came into their own, even though a single witcher, no matter how skilled, is no match for a full-grown dragon. Witchers don't fight dragons, in fact. And dragons rarely bother with people either. But this one attacked, probably woken up by the noise of the battle, or something equally mundane. Geralt fought it, trying to annoy the giant creture and make it fly away, not having any illusions about killing it. He wedged his silver sword in the dragon's mouth. That did the trick! The dragon roared, spit fire and took off, all with the annoying silver toothpick in his mouth.

"Let's not wait for it to return!" Someone urged the king to seek shelter.

Again, Geralt had to do most of the work clearing a route - the king wanted to find his children, his illegitimate children that he fathered with the local baroness. The children were the reason for the assault, as the king wanted to legitimise them and take them away to live with him, while the baroness... well, let's just say she wasn't keen on either losing her children or becoming the official king's consort (marriage wasn't offered). Hence the stand-off and the battle.

They found the children in one of the towers of the baroness' castle that they had been trying to storm. They looked frightened, which wasn't surprising.

"You must wipe away your tears and look danger in the face," the king cuddled his young son. "You will be king one day."

"The children are safe with me," a voice came from a corner. A blind monk gently nudged the king's daughter towards her father.

"But you are blind!" The king protested, taking his daughter in his embrace as well.

Geralt looked out of the window - the noise outside was getting stronger, the battle was far from over.

Then... swift movement out of the corner of his eye... He turned, leapt...

It was too late. King Foltest lay dead in a pool of blood with his throat slit, while the blind monk was leaping out of the window, having thrown off his monk's robes revealing well-fitting leather armour underneath. A witcher's armour. Only a witcher could have mastered a jump from such a height as well.

The next moment the guards ran in, attracted by the screams of the king's daughter, rightly horrified seeing her father being murdered right in front of her.

Geralt was arrested for murder.

...

"So, do you expect me to believe it?!" Vernon Roche slammed the table with his fist. He had been interrogating Geralt for a few hours already, examining and cross-examining every word. Geralt was tired, hungry and "well-seasoned" with many new scars and festering wounds. Temerian Special Forces did not joke.

"Believe what you like," Geralt shrugged. "I might be the first witcher to be executed rather than die battling a monster, but I've had enough."

Vernon snapped his fingers, the door opened and a very attractive female operative came in with food and drink. She put it on the table, smiled engagingly, caught Vernon's nod and left.

"I didn't know you had women in your outfit," Geralt smiled at his old friend. "I never met her."

"Ves is a jewel that we like to keep under wraps," Vernon smiled back. Whatever Geralt might or might not have done, an old friendship forged on the battlefield wasn't easily quashed, even if Geralt didn't remember it. Vernon did, and Geralt felt it. "Ves has been with us for a long time already," Vernon looked towards the door. "She is the only woman, and what a woman..." he sighed. "It's almost too easy, works every time. If you ever see her without her clothes, it will be while she's slitting your throat."

Both men stared at the door for a while.

"Anyway, duty calls - I've got paperwork to do, all your stories need writing up," Vernon grimaced. "Help yourself to the food and drink," he smirked as Geralt rattled the chains firmly cuffing his hands behind his back. "The road ahead is long and perilous, and you're on your own," Vernon added in a whisper, dropped a small key onto the table, got up and left.

...

"Geralt, this way!" Geralt heard Triss' voice from one of the boats on the river. Someone somehow had a boat ready and waiting. How long did it take him to unlock his cuffs, gulp down the food and drink, overcome the many guards in the castle dungeons, all armed with nothing but his bloody fists? It felt like hours, it probably was hours. Geralt was exhausted.

"This way, come on!" Triss' voice was urging him on. "We've got to cast off while it's still dark!"

Geralt shook his head to clear his vision somewhat, then picked his way among the crates and barrels littering the pier, trying not to fall.

"Finally! What took you so long? I was starting to wonder!" Triss helped him into the boat, someone whistled, the ropes where cut and the sails caught the wind.

"I was busy," Geralt retorted, feeling annoyed rather than grateful. "How did you know?" He looked at Triss with suspicion.

"She didn't," Vernon approached, handing Geralt a mug of beer. "You are still the kingslayer, make no mistake," he added grimly. "And your girlfriend here was about to be burned at the stake for treason for good measure."

"But..?" Geralt looked up at him, momentarily switching his attention from the sausages brought by Ves.

"But I believed you," Vernon sighed. "My trust in you is not enough to clear your name though, especially given our history," he shook his head. "You still don't remember, do you? Never mind, others do. But that's not why I believed you - I would have executed you myself if I thought you killed King Foltest. Instead, I and my Special Forces are on the run assisting a fugitive, all in the hope to find the real kingslayer." He smirked again and looked away.

They were sailing East, towards the pink horizon, but all Geralt could think of was sleep. He was spent and not ready for any new beginnings.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is the prologue of Witcher 2, seen through my eyes, the eyes of "my" Geralt. A fair warning: my Geralt is "all wrong". I haven't read the books, I haven't seen the movies, I only played the video games - Witcher 2 and 3. The games allow you to make choices which are not necessarily what the original author would have chosen. There are many among the hard core fans who say that the games "break" Geralt - make him "all wrong". Such as Geralt that you will meet in this story.

Nice, glad to see you are continuing IALW. I'll catch up to a back episode later this week.