The Tale of Sethyas Velas

Chapter three; Azura's Portents

Being dead is strange.

You can still feel the pillow underneath your head, likely in your coffin.

And you can feel the dressing on your wound. And the dull ache in your body from a potent poison from a hateful sister, who turns out to be a better assassin then you.

Then again, maybe I wasn’t dead after all. I could turn my body, barely. I could open my eyes, no? Oh well. Probably not much to see anyways.

Can I talk? “---h…hello?” I muttered weakly.

“Shh, get some rest, Sethyas. You’re lucky to be alive.” Said Caius voice.

“What?” I cried surprised. How did Caius find me?

“Nine Toes saw a strange Dunmer in town, looked a lot like you, without the facial tattoo of course. We were going to approach her first. But when we heard that she was actually looking for you, we decided to tail her instead, pardon the pun, Nine-Toes.”

“No problem.” The Lizard man hissed, continuing Caius’ story.

“At first it just seemed that she was looking for you. But I soon realize that she was hunting you. I too am a hunter, and began seeing that she was coming to and from a Daedric Ruin in Vivec, Ald Sotha. She saw you enter from a distance, as did I. She casted a powerful chameleon spell, but I could smell her the entire way into the shrine, where you killed the Imperial Lady.”

“The Night Mother.” I interrupted

“Yes, then after you went to leave, She struck with an incredible speed, with a poisoned blade. That was when I attacked her, and you were so close to death…..”

“And Setsuna?”

“She is dead, Muthsera. I beg your forgiveness.”

The pain filled me with an unfathomable sadness. I cried aloud, and screamed for her. For anything that was left of her to find its way to me.

Nine Toes hung his head in shame and left Caius’ house. Caius himself looked at me with a compassionate face.

“YOU! You swore! You promised that she would be left alive!” I said arising from the bed, my anger overcoming the incredible pain that wracked my body.

I swung at Caius, badly. Missing him easily. He caught me as I stumbled to the ground.

“Get some rest, Apprentice. There is nothing I can do now. If I could change what had happened I would have. But she was too far gone. Never forget that she was the one who stabbed you. She made her choice. One of you had to die. And quite frankly, I glad it wasn’t you.”

I bawled with my face buried in the pillow. I had nothing left. No. I had Ilmeni.
And as much as I hated myself for doing this to Setsuna, I couldn’t walk away.

“You know, Caius.” I said an hour later. “This was really all my fault. She became what she was because of me. Because I lied.”

“Honor her memory; keep her in your heart. You think I’ve never lost someone? I’ve lost so many agents and friends out here, that doesn’t make your loss any less, but as these Dunmer say, ‘Death does not diminish, and the ghost gilds with glory.’ You can let this destroy you, or you can draw strength from it. It really is your choice.” He said quietly.

I slept for what seemed like hours. Old memories of my childhood with her still raging through my mind. Those days were gone now. Forever.

Then an old memory of when I first came to Morrowind came again.

Fear Not, for I am watchful, you….have been chosen.


What was the strange voice? Who watched over me? Why was I forced to let go of anything good in my life?

I still had the unfinished business of the Morag Tong to complete, which would wait until morning.

Three weeks I lay bedridden. The poison coursing its way through my veins was the last thing my beloved sister gave to me. A bittersweet remembrance. And the poison brought with it strange dreams and wicked nightmares, indeed even in the few waking moments I had I would see things that were never there. More then once I would see Setsuna dying, as I stood paralyzed, unable to help her.

A thousand times I relived my greatest fear that had come to pass. At times I prayed that Sheogorath would take me into his realm, and relieve my mind of its self inflicted torture. Self hatred consumed me, and after my recovery, at least physically, I grew quiet and distant, well, moreso than usual, Caius making comments on it occasionally, I answered with silence.

Then when I felt able to, I left one morning, with Caius still asleep, to return to the Grandmaster, and to finish my business with the Morag Tong.

Eno looked as though he saw a ghost when he saw my grim visage staring at him, for the first time, I saw fear in the Mers eyes, more likely surprise.

"Sethyas ...you are alive....thank Azura! I thought that you had perished. no one had seen or heard from you..."

"A friend saved me....both the Night Mother and Setsuna Velas lie dead. The war has been over for some time, Grandmaster. I relinquish these Sanguine Tokens to the Morag Tong...." I said throwing a small sack to him filled with them I had recovered from Ald Sotha.

"Your Sister? Then..."

"She was too far gone. Nothing I could have done...."

"Enough for now, Master. I grieve your loss, but this is a time for rejoicement, we have won. The cost of life has been monumental on both sides, but this is the life we chose as Assassins."

I nodded absent-mindedly; my mind had been so far from my art for the last few weeks....

"For your reward, I present to you a sacred artifact of Mephala's, the Black Hands Dagger, this has been handed down from Grandmaster to Grandmaster for generations." he said handing me a Daedric dagger that hummed with an incredible power, each strike would rob the victim of his very life essence for a short time, transferring it to the wielder.

I then looked up at him at the words 'Grandmaster to Grandmaster' with a questioning look.

"Yes, Sethyas. My time in the Tong is nearing an end. It has come time for me to choose a successor. You have proven your loyalty and skill above all others in the guild. There is no question in my mind that you must now lead the Morag Tong."

I was speechless. This I never expected.

"Eno...I."

"Do you accept my friend?" Eno said; showing me affection for the first time.

"I do...I mean, I will, eventually. Please hear me, Eno. There are things that I must do first. Other commitments I have to fulfill."

"Than I promote you to Exalted Master, let all within the Morag Tong know that when you are ready, you shall take my place. Allow me to present you with your own ceremonial robes and black gloves."

I took the robes that were Identical to his own, which wore well over the Dark Brotherhood armor, making it easier for me to move about in public with it, the gloves did not afford the same protection as the gauntlets, but somehow they filled my character well, and I enthusiastically adopted my new look.

I thanked Eno, and I took my leave to see Ilmeni who was probably worried sick about me.

Setsuna´s death still bore heavily on me, my heart hurt every time I thought of her. But with her gone, I had no connections left to Cyrodiil, no kith or kin that laid claims to my heart, it had been my home for my whole life, but now all I cared about was here on Vvardenfell.

Even now I realize that my anger to Caius was my own anger towards a father I had never known. Caius was not my father, nor did I have any wish for him to act as such. But his self assurance, the sense of purpose that he had filled me with, perhaps all this was what I had been looking for my whole life.

Soon I would find that Vvardenfell had been waiting for me for millennia.

The cold winds of the Balmora morning flapped the folds of my robe as I gazed on the town from the silt strider port.

I knocked upon Caius door as he gave me nod, and an approving look of my new attire.

"Those dark gloves go well with your trade, Sethyas." he commented out of hand.

I stood stoic as ever.

"Well, nice to see your feeling better. Regardless, your ready now, and I have a mission for you. I need you to go to Vivec and speak with some friends of mine and gather up some information, I've written down the details for you, and here's some gold for expenses." he said handing me a small sack.

He did seem to have a twinge of sadness to him, I wondered if he thought that I blamed my sisters death on him, though my attitude did little to perish the thought from his mind, I blamed myself.

Regardless, I set out to Vivec seeking out the first name on his list, Huleeya, a guild mate from the Morag Tong, and an outlander Argonian.

Asking around the Foreign Quarter, I found him looking into a Shein, enduring insults from three drunken Dunmer. Sitting across from me, he recognized my robes. My explaining that I had come from Caius gave him a surprise.

"We cannot speak of this here. Come, let us leave for my friends’ bookstore, it is merely across the way, Jobasha will give us the hospitality we need, unlike here."

As we both got up to leave, My arm was grabbed by the bigoted idiot, and he threatened me in a voice that reeked of Mazte.

"Filthy Lizard lover! You're a traitor to your own kind! Taste my blade!" he yelled waving a steel dagger around.

Pushing him back, my katana sang as I unsheathed it, the motion enraging the other two Dunmer both that ran toward me, there short blades menacingly waved at me.

I pushed Huleeya back, my black leather gloves creaked as I gripped the Daedric Katana harder, and taking a defensive posture, the blade made a whooshing sound as it sliced through the air, and then the flimsy netch leather armor of the doomed Dark Elves, I entered the Zen state of mind that Goren had trained me in, and I entered into a dance of death.

With the gory scene of missing limbs and pools of blood lying before me, I tossed Caius' bag of gold onto the bar, as the publican dropped both his jaw and the bottle of Flin he was holding.

"Sorry for the trouble." I said as Huleeya and I hurriedly exited.

Walking into the bookstore, the smell of old tomes pleased my senses as I thought of the ancient knowledge that was held in the sacred pages, indeed I had become sort of a bibliophile in recent months, thinking back to the inspiration I had received from 'A Game at Dinner' during my writ on Guril Retheran.

"Their deaths sadden me, but I cannot forgive the poverty of spirit and narrowness of mind that assures them of their right to attack me for the sole reason of my race." Huleeya stated, summing up my thoughts exactly, but then again I was a Dunmer, and had my own prejudices even if I chose not to act on them. I found the Argonian peoples to be objective, and highly intelligent and insightful, indeed, they were refreshing to deal with. I still couldn’t bring myself to like bosmers however....

"Now then, these notes will explain to Caius what I know of the Nerevarine Cult, and why the temple persecutes false incarnates. I do not know why the Cult does not shrink from this, and calls them 'failed' incarnates instead, claiming that they are certain proof of Lord Nerevars return."

I thanked him and set out to my next informant. A Khajiit named Addhiranirr, reputed to be a Thieves guild member and lurking around the St. Olm´s Canton. She was expensive to find to say the least. Indeed no one in St. Olm´s even heard of her until I had greased their palms with few drakes.

Looking for her within the Saint Olm´s Sewers, I found a Khajiit female afraid of her own shadow.

"Who are you? Who sent you? Addhiranirr has never heard of Addhiranirr!"

I laughed aloud at her disavowing of herself.

"Fine, I am Addhiranirr, you going to tell the Census and Excise Agent?"

"Who? I'm here for Caius Cosades, kitty! Tell me what you know of the Sixth House."

"Ah, one of Caius' agents are you? Well then. Before I tell you what I know, you must get rid of census and excise agent, he wrongly claims that Addhiranirr owes back taxes, and so here I must hide until he leaves."

I winced at the form of exchange taking place here, Caius, as I've said before has some interesting friends.

An Imperial Taxman tugged on my sleeve as I nonchalantly walked by him.

"Excuse me, Sera. I am looking for a friend of mine; perhaps you've seen her, a Khajiit named Addhiranirr?"

"Addhiranirr? I think I heard a Khajiit referring to herself by that name at the docks as I arrived in Vivec this morning, something about passage to the mainland, if I'm not mistaken."

"She's going to the mainland? Damn that housecat!" He said in a furious tone as he ran off in a hurry.

I chuckled to myself; I was at least willing to help someone stick it to the Empire. And the Khajiit was more then willing to divulge information about the new Sixth House Cult.

"Before, smugglers used to boast loudly of what they did and they're contacts. Now they have a new employer, and they hush up like little kitties filled with sweetmeats. That is all I know. What they smuggle or why, who can say?"

I thanked her for the very little information that she provided me and cast Almsivi Intervention, appearing at the High Fane. I entered the Library of Vivec searching for Mehra Milo, a priestess and librarian whom Caius made special note not to endanger, as she was a particular friend.

My face appeared behind a book that she pulled out of a shelf, and I whispered my reason for being here, she looked around carefully, and pointed for me to meet her at a secluded spot in the back of the library.

"We can't be seen speaking with one another; the Ordinators have been watching me, as I have friends in the Dissident Priests. But I will tell you what I know of the Sixth House Cult." she continued explaining that she had never heard of a cult worshipping the fallen Dagoth Ur, but that it was a former house in the first era. She advised me to pick up a copy of the "Progress of Truth" and deliver it to Caius.

A quick trip to the bookstore later and I was in business. Finding a copy of the ‘Progress of truth’ as Mehra suggested giving a broader perspective upon the dissident priests and their stance on the Temple and its persecution of the Nerevarine Cult.

With notes and information gathered from each informant, I traveled back to Balmora, Caius devouring the information with intense eyes. For nearly an hour I sat down flipping a dagger in my hands, waiting for him to speak.

“All right, I reviewed the notes” Caius said, running a hand through what little hair he had left. “And I believe that we’re going to need an Ashlander informant.” Caius remarked with his eyes flitting about the room deep in thought.

“Hmm, I’ve heard of a wealthy trader in Ald’Ruhn, by the name of Hassour Zainsubani, whom apparently left the tribes to trade with the settled peoples. Take this hundred gold and find him, you’ll likely need to buy him a gift in order to persuade him to talk. But do it, and find out everything you can about Ashlander customs and the Nerevarine Cult from him.”

I took Caius Gold once more, and took the Silt Strider to Ald’Ruhn, it was difficult to find him at first, but I found him staying at the Ald Skar Inn, a leisurely gentleman Dunmer whom read as he sipped his brandy in the candlelight, a sight that filled me with hope that someday this might be me.

I approached him as politely as I could, and he looked up from his book with impatient eyes, speaking to me with an accent that I had never heard before.

“Excuse me, my friend, but I am at leisure at the moment, and I do not wish to be rude but I do not have the time for conversation.”

“I see, I merely had a question regarding the Ashlanders that I hoped you may answer, forgive my intrusion.”

“A question? Very Well, it would be rude of me not too answer just one. Go ahead.”

“What are their gift giving customs?”

“Ah, an interesting question, Ashlander Gift giving customs is something that is special and shared between friends. The gift must be carefully tailored to suit the receiver, the more personal the gift, the more thought it was shown that went into it. Myself for example, I am a lover of poetry, but no stranger can be expected to know this. Now that I’ve answered your question, would you mind?” he said, hinting that I should take my leave.

I thought over what Hassour had told me, and I smiled. He had clearly yet subtly told m that he wanted a book of poetry, I like subtle, and the publican was willing to tell me that Codus Callonus was a local bookseller and might have what I was looking for.

Perusing his stock, I read and bought ‘Words of the Wind’ a beautifully written poetry book, which I hoped would move Hassour as well.

Approaching the Mer once more, he smiled without looking at me. And I again politely interrupted him.

“Ah, this is a book for me? “Words of the Wind?” Exquisite, simple sentiments simply stated. Yes, you have shown me that you understand the gift giving custom, and I am now inclined to answer any more questions you may have.”

I smiled at him, actually glad to have partaken in his careful game. It was a manipulation to be sure but, done with such gentlemanly grace, I felt that I actually liked him more, rather than the reverse that I shooting for.

I sat with him, and shared a glass of his brandy, as he told me all he knew of the Nerevarine Cult, speaking in poetic verses, he gave me the impression that the Nerevarine was considered more or less a legend, nothing more, amongst the Ashlander Peoples, essentially it was a bedtime story that every child knew, that many, including Hassour did not choose to invest their belief in.

Rather then send me on my way, Hassour refilled my glass, and we continued our conversation about his life as a trader, though long since retired, he wondered as to the whereabouts of his son. Hannat Zainsubani.

“He has proposed to chart the rarely visited underground complexes of Mamea, west of Red Mountain, should you meet him in your travels, chide him, and tell him that his father wishes to know of his son and heir.”

I made a mental note of it, thinking little of it at the time, but I would search for this place at the very least, when my time allowed for it. In the meantime, I wasted no time returning to Balmora, where Caius happily accepted my notes on Ashlander Culture.

“I think its time to let you in on what’s been going on Sethyas.” Caius said pulling out the package I had delivered to him when first I arrived in Vvardenfell.

“This is a decoded version of the letter that accompanied you to me, in it you’ll find that the Emperor himself knew of you, and sent you to me, for the reason that appear to fulfill the Nerevarine Prophecies, it is the reason I have been sending you to all my informants, so that you would learn more of this, at first I thought that we were supposed to create a convincing imposter, but with all that you’ve told me as of late, I don’t know what to think, I’m still skeptical, but….could you truly be[/] the Nerevarine?”

Stunned, I read the package:

Spymaster Caius Cosades
Knight-Errant of the Imperial Order of Blades
Director of Imperial Intelligence in Vvardenfell District, Eastern Provinces

I have the honor to acquaint you with his Majesty's wishes concerning Sethyas Velas, an individual of no rank or consequence.

Sethyas has been released from prison by his Majesty's authority and sent to you with this missive. Sera Velas is to be entered as a Novice in the Imperial Order of the Blades, and is to serve under your absolute authority as you shall see fit, except insofar as his Majesty's particular wishes are concerned.

His Majesty's particular wishes are as follows.

A local superstition holds that an orphan and outcast, a youth born on a certain day to uncertain parents, shall unite all the tribes of the Dunmer, drive out the invaders of Morrowind, and shall reestablish the ancient laws and customs of the Dark Elven nations. This orphan and outcast is called in legend the "Nerevarine," and is supposed to be a reincarnation of the long-dead Dunmer General and First Councilor, Lord Indoril Nerevar.

Sethyas has the appearance of meeting the conditions of this local superstition. Therefore it is his Majesty's desire that he shall, insofar as is possible, satisfy the conditions of this ancient prophecy, and shall become the Nerevarine.

Though this prophecy is indeed only an ancient local superstition, his Majesty has taken counsel on this matter with his most expert informants and confidants, and his Majesty is persuaded that the prophecy is genuine and significant, either in its entirety, or in its several parts, and he earnestly demands you treat this matter with the utmost seriousness.

Certain aspects of this ancient superstition are described at the end of this document, and further materials will be forthcoming by courier at the earliest occasion. It will, of course, be necessary that you acquaint yourself better with the details of this ancient superstition from your local sources. Since this matter intimately concerns Sera Velas, it is expected that you will employ him to gather information on this subject. His Majesty has taken a great personal interest in the legends and prophecies of the Nerevarine, and eagerly awaits reports your reports.

I have the honor to be, Sir, your most Humble and Obedient Servant,

Glabrio Bellienus
Personal Secretary to the Emperor



I could not believe this, some local legend, a bedtime story as it were, that I was to either fulfill in its entirety or pose as much as was possible. I had lost my sister, I had lost my home, and I had been arrested as a bandit, an Assassin, no less. And now I was expected to be a reincarnation?

I laughed, louder and harder than I should have.

“This is a joke, right Caius? You wrote this to make me feel better? Your trying to get my mind off of Setsuna? Thank you, I needed a good laugh. Now then why don’t you tell me what’s really going on? Has all this been an elaborate ploy to punish my crime in Cyrodiil? Was the Orc trader I killed the Emperors Concubine? Well tell his Majesty, I am sorry, but I’m sure that he can find comfort in the scaly arms of an Argonian!” I yelled throwing the parchment on the ground.

Caius merely stood there, arms crossed, silently giving me a gaze that he was deadly serious about the whole matter.

“You think that I’m Nerevar? Skepticism aside, an outlander to this land, an ‘individual of no rank or consequence’ as the letter aptly stated, an Assassin is the glorious first councilor reborn? Or at least I’m supposed to pretend to be?”

“I don’t know what to think, the only thing that is clear is that this is not just some primitive superstition, and we will treat it seriously, just as his Majesty commands.”

I still could not believe any of this. I left his house and made my way to the Eight Plates, and began drinking. Heavily. Renting a room for the night, I experienced another of the waking dream.

In my dreams, a tall figure in a golden mask spoke to me. "Lord Nerevar Indoril, Hai Resdaynia! Long forgotten, forged anew! Three belied you, three betrayed you! One you betrayed was three times true! Lord Voryn Dagoth, Dagoth Ur, steadfast liegeman, faithful friend, bids you come and climb Red Mountain! Beneath Red Mountain, once again, break your bonds, shed cursed skin, and purge the n'wah from Morrowind!"

So it would seem that someone else felt that I was Nerevar. Lord Voryn Dagoth, Dagoth Ur. Was this the person responsible for the sleepers? Was I experiencing what others had been? These were not simple dreams, in spite of what Huleeya had told me.

bids you come climb Red Mountain; shed cursed skin and purge the n’wah from Morrowind!

“Fine, I’ll go to the Urshilaku Camp. With the agreement that, when they tell me that I am not the Nerevarine, you will drop the matter. I walk away from the Blades, and you wait for the next incarnation of Nerevar, just so you can feel just as silly as you must right now, Caius.” I said relenting to the Spymasters wishes.

“Very good, here’s two hundred drakes for you travel expenses, and stop by Fort Moonmoth for essential supplies. There’s a lot of blight diseases up in the northern wastes.”

”Gee, thanks for the concern” I said sarcastically. Caius showed no signs of offense being taken.

I departed for the Urshilaku Camp that very morning, after a long and treacherous walk through what must have been hell, ash storms twice as violent as those I had encountered in my brief stays in Ald’Ruhn forced me to wear the Morag Tong mask, which was indeed excellently crafted for the harsh environment.

I could see why the Ashlanders were proud of themselves for being able to survive in such a desolate environment, though I admit, I was still afraid to approach the Tribesmen that sat outside their yurts, tending to guar hides with chitin daggers.

“Bless and be blessed.” I said approaching an Urshilaku Dunmer Maiden, whom met me with a hostile stare. Truth was, I was uncertain of how to proceed. I was an Assassin, not a trader or diplomat.

“…Umm, perhaps I could offer you a gift? These Kwama eggs are rather fresh.” I said offering the picking from an Egg Mine I had to take shelter in from one of the many storms I encountered on the days long journey here.

She looked at the eggs and then took them with a slight smile.

“Ah, you are kind for an Outlander. And you are not proud, this is good. My name is Shallath-Pirenimus. What brings you out here all this way?”

Now this was the tricky part, do I tell the truth or tell a bold faced lie? My instincts were telling me to go with the latter. But my instincts had also told me to show that I was tough, and had I gone that route……

“I wish to know of the Nerevarine Prophecies.” I stated bluntly.

She immediately gave me a look that was equal parts confusion and offense. “No, No. You are an outlander, and it is not right that we should speak of you with these things. Maybe if you told me what you wished to know, I could help you more….but.”

“I may fulfill the prophecies, and wish to be tested by Nibani Maesa, the Wise Woman.” I blurted out, I don’t know who was more disbelieving of the statement myself or the poor woman whom would likely tell her grandchildren of the day that a crazy Dunmer n’wah came to her dressed in red robes and black gloves claiming to be the Nerevarine. I didn’t believe that I was, I just wanted to show myself and Caius, and voice in my dreams, that I was not.

“I cannot believe what I am hearing! But, you do not speak like a madman, or a fool. You speak with respect, and that is not something to be despised in an outlander, I tell you, go to Zabamunds yurt. He is a Gulakhan and will decide how to deal with you.”

Thanking her I took my leave and walked to his yurt, she laughed good-naturedly as I left. I lifted the fur door to the Gulakhans yurt, he barked at me for moment, but then waved a hand for me to come in.

“You wish to speak to Nibani Maesa? Only Sul-Matuul may permit this thing, and I tell you, he has no love for outlanders. What makes you think that you deserve an Audience with our Great Ashkan?”

There it went again, going with instinct, or going against the grain. I pulled out a small sack of coins.

“I respectfully wish to pay tribute for the right and the honor to speak with Sul-Matuul.” I said in my most humble tone. I was catching on quick that these Ashlanders were a very proud people. A weakness to be exploited perhaps.

“Yes, I think that your gold and your respect speaks well of you Sethyas Velas. Sul-Matuul may be angry with me, but I think I can deal with that. Go to him, and tell him that Zabamund has seen it proper that you may speak.”

I thanked him, and announced my presence outside the Ashkhan’s yurt, a simple barking command, and I entered into the hostile gaze of the lined face and hooded red eyes of a Mer that I found awe-inspiring. He held himself with an incredible stature, and discipline.

“So, Zabamund has seen fit to allow an Outlander to speak to the Ashkan of the Urshilaku, very well, Sethyas Velas. Speak your words.”

I told him of my appearance to fulfill the Nerevarine Prophecies, and my wish to be tested against the signs. He listened carefully, showing no signs of his thoughts or emotions.

“I see. But the only people, who may join the Nerevarine Cult, are members of the tribes. No Outlander may even gaze upon the Wise Woman.” He said with a grim tone.

I started to thank him for his time before he cut me off.

“However, I see merit and honor in you. Should you perform a task that I set before you, I may be willing to adopt you as a Clan friend. But as I said you must prove yourself, you must undergo a harrowing.”

”A harrowing.” I repeated, not liking the sound of the word one bit.

“A harrowing.” He repeated, more stern this time. “Deep within the Urshilaku Burial Caverns, you must seek my Fathers Bone biter Bow. Sul Senipul was a great warrior, and should you return with this, you will have proven your worth to me.”

I raised an eyebrow as he described the location, and the undead guardians of the tomb. Was I willing to go through all this to prove I was not an Incarnate, False, failed, or otherwise?

I still didn’t know what was motivating me to go along with the Ashkhan’s wishes, nonetheless, here I was trudging through the Ashlands searching for the tribes Ancestors resting place. Perhaps it was my desperation to be rid of the Blades, of the Nerevarine Prophecies. To go back to a ‘normal’ life of an Assassin, perhaps lead the Morag Tong.

Finding the door was not difficult at all, nor was dispatching several skeletons at the entrance with my Daedric Katana. I took my time with this one; there was no telling where the bow was, or what else was in here.

Besides, the thought of what loot may be in here, was rather thrilling, not to say that I’m a grave robber, but the idea that I may find some well valued artifact certainly took the edge of the possibility of dying off a bit.

Indeed, at the bottom of a small pool just to my right when I first entered, there was a Dreugh Cuirass, the sheer durability and rarity of these would fetch a couple thousand drakes minimum, well worth the weight.

Pushing forward deeper into the tomb, I found myself in a large chamber with a stone walkway leading up hundreds of feet into the air, the cool air in the dark tomb blowing gently into my face. I considered casting a levitation spell, but my skill in Alteration was not quite advanced enough to guarantee that I could cast the spell, as I needed to reserve my magicka for other things, so I relied instead on my Acrobatics, which was quite advanced.

Jumping to and from the ledge and the central stone column I recovered several small bits of jewelry that the mummies held onto in death. But one of them held another treasure that was worth more than anything else I had found in the tomb. A Glass Claymore enchanted with the ability to significantly resist magic, with an inscription in the hilt that read ‘Magbane’.

From the highest ledge, I also managed to jump onto the highest wall ‘tomb’. Here, a mummy held a Wizards Staff. Identical to what I had seen Edwinna Elbert, and Ranis Arthys carry in the Mages Guild, I well knew the enchantment. Levitation for a limited time, as well as fortifying ones skill in the unarmored discipline. I grabbed it for the usefulness it would bring in the Tomb. I now glided through the air, reaching another wall tomb, this one guarding a pair of glass greaves.

Glass armor is perhaps the most wondrous of all light armors, comparable to ebony and Daedric in its protection; it is unfortunately not well suited to the Assassins trade, better serving perhaps an Archer, or Rogue, the construction isn’t entirely designed for stealth, including the fact that glass reflects a great deal of light, I would perhaps start a collection of Glass Armor for the sheer joy of owning it, or for when I may have to make use of it, but for the meantime, I would continue to wear the black armor I had found on a Dark Brotherhood Assassin.

In a room marked Fragile Burial, I heard a grave silence woven with low lighting. The drip, drip, of water was disturbed by the sloshing sounds of my boots entering the ankle high waters.

Directly ahead of me, there were two standing stone columns; I was able to leap atop either one, though neither yielded any treasure. A passageway to my left brought me to a another mummy raised high on the stone platform, this one clutching a book, called ‘Feyfolken’ it had several good points on the Enchant Discipline, which I made a mental note of.

The passageway that had been to my right when I had entered, Yielded little treasure, and certainly no bow. But, there was a small key next to the mummy, with the words “Worm Lord’ scratched on it. I almost thought nothing of it as I went to leave, I looked at the portion of the floor that went deeper into the entrance of the cave, under the water, and I found a stone cavern door, scratched with the words, “Worm Lords Tomb The key fit in nicely, and I surfaced into a hidden tomb, with a Nice Ebony Helm, and A Glass Tower Shield, a book called “The Mystery of Princess Talara part 4.”

I also met a large spell-casting skeleton, no doubt the Worm Lord himself. Nonetheless the fell creature could not stand up to my Daedric Katana. I left the Fragile Burial, as I found no Bow of any kind within it.

My next raid brought me to the Kefka Burial, being met with a large number of Skeletons, I kept my distance with my on Bonemold Bow, the silver arrows bringing the bony guardians to a heap. Examining the tomb, I found little of value, and no bow. As I was about to leave, I noticed the gleam of to metallic objects on a small springs ledge, picking them up, I realized that these were Daedric Darts. These were too rare and precious to either use or sell, they would become prized trophies. But still no Bow.

Next burial chamber, named Kakuna, was another slightly flooded chamber, with no bow, but several scrolls and a portcullis hidden behind a waterfall that contained a Devil Cephalopod Helm, and a small chest with several precious gems within it. All the contents of this tomb I also took with me.

Then finally within the Juno Burial, I found a wraith floating about, the bone chilling screams of the tortured spirit, scared even I. Dispatching it with several Silver arrows, I found within its ectoplasmic remains, the Bow of Sul-Senipul. Now I had to return to Sul-Matuul.

Exiting the tomb, I was fortunate enough not to be stuck in the middle of an ash storm. I also realized that I was not about to approach the Ashkan Sul-Matuul with his ancestors treasures. Hitting the Daedric Shrine that the camp was close too, I made short work of the inhabitants, claiming yet another Sanguine Token. Exiting the shrine, and leaving my treasures behind, I walked towards the shore to return to the Ashkan, only to notice a worn cavern door at the very base of the mound that Assurnabitashpi sat upon.

Removing my robes, I applied my Dark mask, casting a simple Night-Eye spell; the near pitch-black cavern illuminated its rocky walls only to my eyes. Clutching the shaft of my bow, the weight felt right in my hands, the arrow that I held seemed to fill some longing in me, proceeding slowly in a half draw, the caverns bluish glowing crystals seemed to make this a focal point of magic energy, that is, this was not a typical smugglers cavern, no. This was a Sorcerers Cavern.

Though I am a member of the Mages guild, my view on mages is that they are a sad lot. Wizards are self centered, alone. Though their iconoclastic tendencies are admirable, I do not view it as a worthy exchange of the world around you. Power serves only to maintain itself, as I have said before. To me, true power comes from skill, and self control.

Even a Mage has little defense against a poisoned silver arrow piercing the heart. As the Breton Woman whom tried to cast a spell at me soon discovered, I sent her servant scamps back to Oblivion with the Black Hands Dagger, there life essence transferred to me.

Examining the cave, I noticed two doors. One was dark, with the sounds of water sloshing behind it. The other had a dim torchlight, with the scratching sounds of a quill being moved across parchment, I took the latter.

A High Elf Female noticed the black clad assassin enter her room. Me, that is, and she leapt from her table where she was writing, and unsheathed a chitin dagger, while casting lightning at me. Both her dagger and spell missed me, though not by much. Knowing the Altmer weakness to magicka, my fingertips glowed with the ‘Five Fingers of Pain’ spell, and I brought my outstretched fingers to her abdomen, the muscles tensed as she breathed in deeply, and her body grew limp within my hands. I set her corpse down gently, as I made my way to her table, to investigate what she had been writing.

According to her notebook, her name was ‘Elante’ and she believed that this Cavern, named Ibar-Dad was the final resting place of Mordrin Hanin, some sort of Nord Noble from the First Era, when Vvardenfell was under the rule of Skyrim.

Using a small key that she had, I opened the second door, and casted water breathing spell, and swam through what seemed to be the underside of a Daedric Shrine, I realized that this was the very foundations of Assurnabitashpi. Rising from the water, I climbed onto a ledge, immediately I was greeted by two Dremora, armed with an Ebony Longsword and a Daedric Dai-Katana, a longer version of my own Daedric Katana.

The two warriors of Oblivion stared me down with a deathly visage, and a hatred that spoke of millennia behind it. Unsheathing my Katana, I ran towards the Daedra as they got into defensive stance, flipping over them, I tried to get a couple of swings on the one with the Dai Katana, easily blocking my moves, the other Dremora swung the ebony longsword, slicing my armor, and the skin underneath easily, I had to switch tactics.

The Black Hands Daggers’ energy hummed in my hand, its hunger was fed with the life force from the two Dremora, as I frantically sliced and thrusted the dagger through the weak points in their armor, the wound in my chest closing up as the Vampiric spell restored me back to full health. Reaching into the remains of the banished Dremoras, I clutched the Daedra’s Heart and held it high, as I yelled.

It was a strange feeling. At once Shamanistic and a release of the cold fear that enveloped me as I faced them, defeating powerful Daedra is not a tale that many can boast of. Though only the Dagger that Eno had given me had saved my life.

Looking about the surroundings, I moved my hands about a smooth cold door, thick and carved of stone, I found a keyhole and moved a pick inside it, though it took some doing, I managed to pick the lock, and moved a probe about the door dislodging some wires that held some trap to further protect the tomb.

Opening the door, a Golden-Skinned Valkyrie swung fiercely at me with a Glass Claymore, the blade striking hard against the cold floor as I barely managed to jump back. Frustrated with the constant attacks, I yelled as I mustered all my magicka, which was considerable for an Atronach Birth sign. The intense spell of ‘Gods Fire’ released itself from my outstretched palms, the searing flames burning away the Golden Saint, perhaps the most powerful of the Daedric Servants.

Spent, I drank a health, magicka, and fatigue restorative. And looked about the tomb, in front of me a Skeleton lay with a Daedric Battle-Axe, and Daedric Shield, and on either side of me lay two chests with eight skulls with Ancient Silver Daggers protruding from there foreheads. The daggers themselves were heavily enchanted with a potent poison spell. Grinning beneath my mask, I wondered if it was my birthday as I grabbed the hilt of one of the daggers and unsheathed it from the skull.

No sooner had I done this, and then a shrieking ghost appeared before me. Another tomb guardian it would seem. More so, the only thing keeping the maddened spirit trapped within the skull was some sort of ritual with the dagger.

Slicing at the creature, the poison did not affect its form, which was logical, how does one poison a ghost? But the arcane properties of the silver dagger did disperse its essence back to Aetherius. Taking mercy upon the remaining spirits, I released them from their earthly prisons by taking the daggers from the remaining seven skulls.

Pulling out a leather belt from underneath my armor, I quickly constructed a multiple sheath chest strap, and I now had eight Poisoned Silver daggers aligned across my chest, I mused at the Dagger collection I had now amassed. I wondered if I would ever have to use them all. Perhaps the best thing to wish for would be too have them, and not need them, though I knew that this would no be the case in my heart of hearts.

Above the Skeleton, I saw a Shield glow with a bluish enchantment, leaping up, I grabbed it off its perch, and I had heard stories of this Shield. Eidolons Ward, the chapel priests spoke of a Breton Knight that had saved a lords daughter and he crafted a powerful shield as thanks. They spoke of its intricate shape and design, there was no mistaking it, and this was it.

However, I am an assassin, no warrior am I, and sadly, I would be unable to make any use of it, however, It would serve well as a trophy of sorts, indeed, I doubt that I would ever be able to find a merchant able to give me even ten percent of its true worth.

Leaving the caverns of Ibar Dad, I passed by the Daedric Shrine, dumping my latest acquisitions into the now growing pile of treasures, and returning to face the Ashkan with his fathers bow.

“Yes, this is indeed my Fathers Bow. You have passed your harrowing, I will now keep my word, and I adopt you as a Clan friend of the tribes of the peoples of the wastes. I will also keep the second promise I made you, you may now speak with Nibani Maesa, and she will test you against the Nerevarine Prophecies, as you have asked of me.”

I nodded thoughtfully at the Ashkhan’s words, but there was something I couldn’t grasp.

“Why have you been so accommodating Sul-Matuul? I know that you have no love for outlanders, why have you shown me such kindness?”

His grim face became darkened, as he carefully thought out his response.

“It is only the Lady Azura whom may decide who the Nerevarine shall be. It would be foolish of me to refuse any who would lay claim to the prophecies. But now that you are a Clan friend, I wish to speak plainly. The Nerevarine comes to drive out all outlanders, so how can an outlander be the Nerevarine? My people, indeed all tribes have lost their lands, their honor, their families to the House Dunmer and the creatures called Imperials from the west. The Nerevarine is the last hope for my people, a hope I shall not let any outlander steal from us, be careful what you do in the name of the Nerevarine, Sethyas Velas. These are serious words, words of life and death.”

I nodded; fully understanding, though I may not fully agree with Sul-Matuuls bigotry, I still understood, indeed felt his perspective. I took my leave, and walked out into the camp, a small group of the Ashlanders dispersing from the entrance, listening in on the conversation.

“Clan friend! I hear rumors, I hear that an outlander comes to lay claim to the Nerevarine Prophecies, these are strange times, honored guest. You are welcome to the hospitality of the tribe. You may sleep in our tents should you need, but please do not touch our possessions.” One of them told me amiably.

I smiled as I walked to a small yurt, with a decorative mat in front. Announcing my desire to enter, a friendly voice bade me enter.

I was greeted by an ancient Dunmer woman, long white hair was carefully braided into a ponytail. Bright red eyes carefully examined me from behind a wrinkled face; she smelled of herbs and alchemy, in another life, she would have made a perfect grandmother for me.

“So. They've told me of you, outlander. Or, shall I say, Clan friend. You are hard-headed. And ignorant. But perhaps it is not your fault. My lord Ashkan says you will ask me about the Nerevarine prophecies. He also says I will test you against the Nerevarine prophecies. I must do as my lord Ashkan says. So ask your questions, and I will test you."

“I wish to know of the Nerevarine Prophecies, I wish for you to disprove any claim I may have to them.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Disprove? You do not believe this to be a serious matter? This is not some game a child plays outlander, if you lay claim to be Nerevar Reborn, you must be willing to follow through with your very life, child.”

“I am. Believe me.” I said looking grimly to the side.

"There are many Nerevarine prophecies, and they suggest many things. Aspect and uncertain parents. The moon-and-star. Sleepers. Seven curses. The curses' bane. The prophecy of the Stranger. The prophecy of the Seven Visions. The lost prophecies."

"Ask me of these things. If you are patient. If you would be wise. Or, if you are impatient to know, just ask: 'Do I pass the test of the Nerevarine prophecies?' Go ahead, outlander. I am the wise woman. Ask your questions. And I will answer."

“Okay tell me of the Aspect and uncertain parents.” I asked, telling her of my birth sign, and orphan childhood.

“If what you say is true, you are indeed born on a certain day of uncertain parents. This is part of the prophecy. But many have the same birthday, and many are not sure of their parents. It is interesting. But it does not make you the Nerevarine."

“As I thought, what of the ‘moon-and-star’ I often hear accompanying tales of this Nerevar?”

"Legend says Indoril Nerevar's family standard bore the moon and star, and Nerevar's armor and weapons bore this sign. Some say he bore a moon-and-star birthmark. Some say he has a magic ring marked with a moon-and-star. Others say he was born under a moon-and-star. In any case, I think the moon-and-star is the mark of the Nerevarine, and you do not have this mark. So you are not the Nerevarine."

“The only marking I have is this black hand tattoo, given to me upon my birth. I have no Idea what it means.”

“This tattoo, it is very common amongst native Dunmer and House Dunmer alike. This tattoo is a sign of fealty and reverence to our great ancestor spirit Mephala. Your family, whomever they may have been, had a genealogy that they linked directly to Mephala, some lay claims to Azura, some Boethiah, there are alternate marks for these as well. However it is so common, it will not give you any clues as to whom you may be related to from Morrowind, I’m afraid.”

I listened intently to her explanation, it was the first time I understood what my facial tattoo meant, and I had lived with it all my years, to the point that I barely noticed it. But I was here for another reason.

“Very well, speak to me of the Seven Curses.”

"It is another Ashlander prophecy of the Nerevarine. It is called "The Seven Curses of the Sharmat." But I do not know it, and I know no one who does. It may be lost. Such things happen. A wise woman dies, or forgets, or a clan is wiped out. Perhaps someone knows, but is keeping it secret. Perhaps it is in one of those many books of your settled peoples. I have heard that the Dissident priests of the Temple may have such books."

The dissident priests, the group that Mehra Milo had links to. This was beginning to come together in the back of my mind.

“And the Curses Bane?”

“I don't know. Which curse's bane? There are so many curses. The seven curses seems likely. But I don't know."

“Ok, and what of the Stranger? Doesn’t that refer to an outlander?”

“This is the best known of the Nerevarine prophecies. We call it 'The Stranger'."

"When earth is sundered, and skies choked black,
And sleepers serve the seven curses,
To the hearth there comes a stranger,
Journeyed far 'neath moon and star.

Though stark-born to sire uncertain
His aspect marks his certain fate.
Wicked stalk him, righteous curse him.
Prophets speak, but all deny.

Many trials make manifest
The stranger's fate, the curses' bane.
Many touchstones try the stranger.
Many fall, but one remains."

Those words, I had seen those words in a dream. A dream from so long ago, when I was sent to Seyda Neen. ‘Many fall, but one remains.’

“What of these Seven Visions?”

“The full title of the prophecy is "Seven Visions of Seven Trials of the Incarnate". Listen, and I will tell you the verses."

"Seven trials
What he puts his hand to that shall be done.
What is left undone, that shall be done.

First trial
On a certain day to uncertain parents
Incarnate moon and star reborn.

Second trial
Neither blight nor age can harm him.
The Curse-of-Flesh before him flies.

Third trial
In caverns dark Azura's eye sees
and makes to shine the moon and star.

Fourth trial
A stranger's voice unites the Houses.
Three Halls call him Hortator.

Fifth trial
A stranger's hand unites the Velothi.
Four Tribes call him Nerevarine.

Sixth trial
He honors blood of the tribe unmourned.
He eats their sin, and is reborn.

Seventh trial
His mercy frees the cursed false gods,
Binds the broken, redeems the mad.

One destiny
He speaks the law for Veloth's people.
He speaks for their land, and names them great."

"What does this prophecy mean? It tells us who the Nerevarine will be, and the trials he must undergo before he fulfills his destiny. Some parts I understand. Some parts I do not. I will answer your questions as best I can. But I cannot pretend to understand it all."


Destiny. Prophecy. Nerevar. These were now grave words in my ears, and I was afraid to hear an answer I somehow knew was coming.

“What does One Destiny mean?”

“Veloth's people are the Dunmer, all Dunmer, Ashlander and Great House. The last time the Velothi were united were with Nerevar at the Battle of Red Mountain. Now Nerevar will come once again and unite the Dunmer. He will restore Morrowind to the Dunmer, and restore the former greatness of the Velothi people."

“Do I pass the test?”

“You are not the Nerevarine.”

I gasped a sigh of relief, it was over. I had heard it from the mouth of the Cult of Nerevars wise-woman. But she continued with words I dreaded to hear.


“You are one who may become the Nerevarine. It is a puzzle, and a hard one. But you have found some of the pieces, and you may find more. Do you choose to be the Nerevarine? Then seek the lost prophecies among the Dissident priests of the Temple. Find the lost prophecies, bring them to me, and I will be your guide. And take these copies of the Stranger and the Seven Visions. Now. I have told you all I know. Go. Think on what I've told you. And do what must be done."

I gripped the papers with my Black Gloved hands shaking, I was confused. I was not Nerevar Reborn, though I may become it? Or I was, but there were other trials, other prophecies to fulfill? And all this boiled down to a choice?

“Do you choose to be the Nerevarine?”

“Well now, this is quite interesting Sethyas. According to these prophecies, and from what Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa say, you really could be the Nerevarine. That’s just incredible, but Ill have to get used to the idea. In the meantime, I have a new assignment for you; do you think you can handle it?”

I considered my response carefully. What reason did I have to continue in the Blades? For some silly Ashlander prophecies? I had lost my sister, my life almost on a number of occasions. What was left for me to have any loyalty to this man who represented the Empire that had never shown us any compassion? Duty? Prophecy? Azura? None of these things stirred me.

"Lord Nerevar Indoril, Hai Resdaynia! Long forgotten, forged anew! Three belied you, three betrayed you! One you betrayed was three times true! Lord Voryn Dagoth, Dagoth Ur, steadfast liegeman, faithful friend, bids you come and climb Red Mountain! Beneath Red Mountain, once again, break your bonds, shed cursed skin, and purge the n'wah from Morrowind!"

I remembered the dreams from Dagoth Ur. Nibani Maesa had said that this was a very strong dream, a very cunning dream. They were black lies, evil sendings of the Sharmat.

I wanted to know more.

That was what drove me. If I had attracted the attention of the Devil, maybe it was time to dance. Who knows, perhaps I was Nerevar after all. Or rather, I above all incarnates had the power to make the choice. If becoming the Nerevarine was a choice indeed.

I gripped the hilt of my Katana, my leather gloves creaking with my squeeze.

“I’m ready for anything.” I said with quiet confidence.

"Hmm. Don't get over-confident. But it so happens that I agree -- you're ready. But just in case I'm going to give you 400 drakes. Before you head out, make sure you outfit yourself with healing potions, new gear, a little training, whatever you think you need most. And remember: if you get in trouble, back off, rest up, and go back fresh. Don't get cocky. I think this will be a tough one. Here's your mission. Fort Buckmoth sent a patrol to Gnaar Mok, hunting smugglers with Sixth House connections. They found a Sixth House base, a Sixth House shrine, and a Sixth House priest named Dagoth Gares. Speak to Champion Raesa Pullia at Fort Buckmoth; she'll tell you about the patrol and the Sixth House base. Your orders: find that Sixth House base, kill Dagoth Gares, and bring me a full report on the Sixth House base."

I smiled at the thought that he had made me go out and become a better assassin to serve the interests of the Emperor further, the exact same reason that I had been jailed in the first place.

I made my way to Ald´Ruhn, taking the guild guide in Balmora, Ranis Arthys gave me an impatient look, wondering where I had been the last few months, I told her that I had pressing business and left without saying anymore.

“I'm Raesa Pullia, Champion of the Legion garrison here at Buckmoth Legion Fort. And you're Sethyas Velas. Caius Cosades sent you, didn't he? Caius says you're the one to handle this Sixth House base near Gnaar Mok."

”Tell me everything.” I nodded.

"Only one trooper returned. He died soon after, horribly disfigured with corprus disease, and out of his wits. In his ravings, he spoke of a cavern on the coast -- he called it "Ilunibi." It's not on our maps; try asking locals in Gnaar Mok. They fought with cultists and disfigured man-beasts -- corprus monsters, I think. They fled the attackers and got lost in the caves. Then they ran into a half-man creature named Dagoth Gares."

"This Dagoth Gares slew the rest of the patrol, but spared the one trooper. He told the trooper he was being spared, so he might tell others that "The Sleeper Awakes," and "The Sixth House has Risen," and "Dagoth Ur is Lord, and I am his Priest," and "All will be One with Him in the Flesh." The trooper awakened outside the caves and returned here. We couldn't recognize him, and he didn't respond to questions... just kept rambling on like a madman until he died."

"I've heard of corprus disease before, but never seen it. The trooper's flesh was swollen and covered with growths. His bones twisted and lost their shape. He spoke to himself, as if in a dream. We didn't recognize him at first, except for his clothing and armor. The fort chaplain tried spells and potions, but couldn't cure the disease. He died soon after he reached the fort. Didn't realize how fast corprus kills. It sure wasn't pretty. The troops seem shaken. I'm a little worried myself, to tell the truth."

Her tale was not a pleasant one; even I did not like the description of the poor trooper’s death. What was this Corprus disease? Caius had said that it was some form of blight disease, but worse. Now I knew how worse.

Arriving in Gnaar Mok, I was told that a cavern by that name was around the northern end of the island, near Khartag Point. Asking about Khartag Point got me this response: “Yes, that's on the western coast, not far from here. It's a gigantic boulder. Some of the orcs consider it a landmark. Why, I don't know. Some Orc or another jumped off on a dare. It didn't end well."

Shrugging at the description, I made my way to the Cavern Door, entering I only saw a small waterfall, filling a small pool at the bottom of the ledge I stood. Jumping down, I landed making a splash, I unslung my bow, and made my way forward.

The howling currents of air made red candles flicker in the flooded passageways, giving a demonic atmosphere to my incursion. I casted a night-eye spell, it improved my sight, but it didn’t take the chill out of my spine.

When I saw a hobbling distortion of a man walking toward me it only increased it, I shot several of my Silverthorn arrows at him before he finally went down. I had never seen anything stand up to so much poison, and even though I hit him in several vital organs, he barely felt it. A Lame Corprus monster.

I decided that stealth would be the best bet at this point at time, and used the Ring of Khajiit to make myself invisible, and fleeter of foot.

I ran past several Daedra and Undead, until I saw a strange sight. Several Dunmer stood around naked. I approached them concerned for their well-being.

“Are you prisoners of the Sixth House? Do you need help escaping?” I asked.

“We have you in our discerning eye, Sethyas Velas. Go unto your Lord; Dagoth Ur, and kneel before him, make your oath, and enter our service.”

I was taken aback as the Dreamer grinned maniacally at me, and then attacked me with a Chitin Club. I had to dispatch the group; these were people much like myself. Haunted by these dreams, driven mad. Driven to join the Sixth House cult. Why hadn’t it driven me mad?

I proceeded further, no longer afraid, rather, focused. I felt my ego dissolve from my mind, as the walls and the water and lighting became slower in there pace, I was in full battle-readiness. I unsheathed two of my Ancient Silver Daggers, and met face first with several Daedra, and bone lords, in a fury of speed and blood glinting off the edge of my blades, I do not know how many I killed, but I found myself facing a horrible creature at the top of some stairs in a shrine area of the caverns.

It looked like it may have once been a man, but where a face should be a long,…snout? protruded instead, its skin matched the grey ash of the wastes. And in a voice that whistled in a rhythmic high and low, the creature addressed me by name. This was Dagoth Gares, my mark.

“The Sixth House greets you, Lord Nerevar. Or Sethyas Velas, as you call yourself. I am known as Dagoth Gares, priest of Ilunibi Shrine, and minister to Sixth House servants. My Lord, Dagoth Ur, has informed me of your coming. I wish that this time you had come to honor your Lord's friendship, not to betray it."

“Your Lords Friendship?”

"Dagoth Ur is the Awakened Lord of the Sixth House, come to cast down false gods, drive foreigners from the land, and restore the ancient glory of Morrowind. He bids you come to Red Mountain. For the friendship and honor that once you shared, he would grant you counsel and power, if only you would pledge that friendship anew. The path to Red Mountain is long, and filled with danger, but if you are worthy, you will find there wisdom, a firm friend, and all the power you need to set the world aright."

“I thought the Sixth House was exterminated in First Era…”


"The Sixth House was not dead, but only sleeping. Now it wakes from its long dream, and with its Lord, Dagoth Ur, it comes forth to free Morrowind of foreign rulers and divine pretenders. When the land is swept clean of false friends and greedy thieves, the children of Veloth will build anew a garden of plenty in this blighted wasteland."

“Quite the reception for a potential ally, is this not?”

"Forgive the rude welcome, but until you have declared for us, we must treat you as our enemy. The Sleepers and Dreamers are newly come to Lord Dagoth, and not yet blessed with his power. But the Children of His Flesh, they are deep in the heart of his mysteries. Their bodies swell to contain his glory, and to yield the rich sacraments of our Lord's feasts. And we are the least of his servants, for Ash Poets, Ascended Sleepers, and Ash Vampires stand high above us in the Lord's bountiful grace."

“How do you know I am even an enemy? I’ve never even met Dagoth Ur!”

"Lord Dagoth would far rather have you as a friend than as an enemy. But until you submit to him, Sixth House servants will treat you as an enemy, and try to destroy you. If you wish to be our friend, first you must go to Lord Dagoth in his citadel on Red Mountain, and make your submission."

“I submit to no one, fiend! Especially not some creep who invades my dreams!”

"Lord Dagoth gives me these words to say to you, so you may give them thought. 'Once we were friends and brothers, Lord Nerevar, in peace and in war. Yet beneath Red Mountain, you struck me down as I guarded the treasure you bound me by oath to defend. But, remembering our old friendship, I would forgive you, and raise you high in my service.'"

"My Lord Dagoth bids you come to Red Mountain. For the friendship and honor that once you shared, he would grant you counsel and power, if only you would pledge that friendship anew. I am not your Lord Dagoth, yet I, too, would say to you... Do you come with weapons to strike me down? Or would you put away your weapon, and join me in friendship?"

I approached the creature slowly, examining the cavern with my Night-Eye spell, Dagoth Gares stood there, waiting for my answer.

With a quick motion, I stabbed him with both my daggers in his ribs, the poison coursing through him, with an inhuman strength, he pushed me away, collapsing to his knees as the deadly toxin ebbed his life away.

Looking up at me I saw that he had a mouth after all, and it gave a grin that would haunt my nightmares.

“Even as my Master wills, you shall come to him, in his flesh, and of his flesh.” Were his final words as I felt sick suddenly, I fell to my knees as well, pain wracked my body, as I spat up a putrid vomit. Stumbling over to the pool of water just outside the shrine area, I looked at my face; the reflection stared back with dulled red eyes, and brown depressions in it.

It took all my power to stand up, and I casted a restorative spell that renewed attributes, it seemed to work, as the intense nausea left my body, though the marks remained. I pulled out an Almsivi Intervention scroll and teleported back to safety in Balmora, in front of the Temple.

Rushing to Caius’ house, I barged in through the door.

“You see what you’ve done to me Caius? Dagoth Gares is dead, and now, so am I! I hope you’re happy! You’ve killed off two Velas’! But by Azura, I’ll see you in hell!” I yelled as I grabbed his collar, and easily picked him up off the floor, slamming his back against the wall. The same inhuman strength that Dagoth Gares had pushed me back with, I now picked up Caius’ with.

“Put me down Sethyas! Your acting like a Corprus Monster!” he yelled in surprise.

I realized that I had lost my temper for almost no reason, I needed to think. But it was so hard. I set him down and he poured me a glass of Cyrodiilic Brandy, and lit me a hackle-lo leaf. I sat down thanking him.

“With Dagoth Gares dead, the Sixth House shrine is no longer a threat. You've more than earned a promotion to the rank of Traveler. I'm very worried that you have corprus disease. But I have some good news in that department."

"I canvassed my informants for possible treatments, just in case you contracted the disease during your mission. I learned from Fast Eddie that your best chance of getting cured is Divayth Fyr, an ancient Telvanni wizard who runs a Corprusarium for victims of the disease."

"Here. Take this Dwemer artifact and 1000 drakes, and go to Tel Fyr. Divayth Fyr will like the Dwemer artifact. A gift may sweeten his disposition. The gold is for expenses. And here're a couple of Levitation potions. I hear you'll need them in Telvanni towers, because wizards don't use stairs. So get moving, and get that corprus disease cured. Then hurry back. I think I know how to get the lost prophecies Nibani Maesa asked for."

“So you thought I might get Corprus, and you sent me anyways….you’re a class act, Caius.”

“Hey, stop blaming me for everything that goes wrong in your life, Sethyas. You’re an extraordinary individual whether you believe that or not, and extraordinary things are going to happen to you.”

I shook my head. “I’m not Caius. I am an Assassin, not a hero, I am not Nerevar, I am Sethyas Velas. I’ll go first thing in the morning, get cured, but to hell with these prophecies, and to hell with the Blades. You want to kill me, kill me. But I proceed no further in this madness.” I said gulping the booze down and inhaling deeply on the hackle-lo.

As I awoke in the morning, the dark dreams of the horrid blight disease still haunted my mind. I felt,…stronger. The pain was still as intense, but, I found myself able to endure it better then yesterday.

Hiding the markings, I wrapped my forearms in black cloth, put on a common brown robe with a large hood, and finally put on my black gloves, putting the hood as far down my face as it would go.

I walked through the town as though I were a hobbling old man, and no one paid me any attention, I was the stark face of a side of reality that no one wanted to admit existed, they wanted their happy little worlds, and I was happy to oblige them.

I entered the Mages Guild, no one quite knowing who I was, which was just as well, I didn’t need Ajira trying to treat or cure me, or one of the other Mages examining me for ‘research’.

Using an old creaking voice, I used my best Morrowind accent, and asked for passage to Sadrith Mora, the Breton guide kindly helped me onto the platform, as another spasm of pain wracked through my body, I keeled over in pain grabbing my ribs.

There was a flurry of “Oh are you all rights?” and “Let me see what’s wrong with you!”
I merely waved off all there attempts at help and told them that I had a Healer that I saw in Sadrith Mora.

Arriving in the Bay City of the Giant mushrooms, I eagerly walked outside of Wolverine Hall. I had been here at least twice before, and I loved this city, the Telvanni, not so much. But it was wonderful living so close to water, the smell of the ocean around you at all times certainly beat the occasional wafting of rotting vegetation coming up from the Bitter Coast in the evening breeze in Balmora.

I casted a restorative spell and I returned to my senses once more, recovering from the most recent attack. On the beaches of Sadrith Mora I looked the horizon in the southeast, and casted water walking as I began my journey to Divayth Fyr’s Tower, my feet displacing the surface water, but not being swallowed by it.

An hour later, as the sea winds blew my robe around my legs, and pushing back my hood I opened the door to the Telvanni Wizards Mushroom tower, looking around, I was greeted by an attractive Dunmer Maiden.

“Are you here to plunder the dungeon? Do you have Corprus Disease? Did you want to talk to Divayth Fyr?” She barraged me with questions.

“I’m sorry, and you are?”

”Beyte Fyr, wife of Divayth Fyr.”

“His wife? Good then—“

“Yes. Well. Not 'wife' in the 'married' sense. But... you know. 'Paramour.' 'Consort.' Something like that. It's a bit awkward, really. Because... well... he made us, too, so, though we aren't really his daughters or anything, it's LIKE we were his daughters. Because he made us. You see?"

I blinked twice. This was not going to be a straightforward mission.

I sighed aloud as I asked where Divayth Fyr was, and she pointed me to his upper hall.

Looking around, I saw a bed, a bunch of shelves with interesting things on them, but no Divayth.

“Hello? Serjo Fyr? Are you here, Sera?”

“Up here!” A voice called, my eyes following the voice to a hole in the ceiling. Great, I said to myself. I am no wizard, I know a few magic tricks, and I excel in illusion and destruction for their obvious benefits to my trade. But I am no master or even expert Alterationist. I don’t know how to levitate. Even an alchemist could do this, with some coda flower and trama root, or racer plume….none of which I had in my Alchemists pack.

So Acrobatics it was. But that was quite a jump, and I wasn’t sure I could make it, eyeing the distance, and judging where I should grab a hold of the ledge, I jumped. And I could see the ledge, and then Divayth, and then the ceiling, and then the intense pain of your head hitting the ceiling. And then the intense pain of your bottom hitting the bottom floor where you started from.

“Hello? Did some one just go ooof? I could have sworn I saw someone jump up through the floor! Oh well. Must be getting old….” Said Divayth’s Voice drifting in from the top floor.

What had just happened? There was no way I could normally handle a jump like that so well. Then I realized, Acrobatics were governed by strength. Mine had nearly doubled since being infected. What was this Corprus, anyways?

Handling the jump once more. I put in half the effort and easily grabbed the ledge and pulled myself up to the Study. And there stood the Ancient Wizard, we stared at each other for a moment or two, he was impressive, Standing there in a full set of Daedric Armor, a truly beautiful and intricate set, the dark ebony mixed with the Daedric Spirit, dark as the void, and intimidating spikes everywhere.

I pulled out the Dwemer Coherer that Caius had given me, right on top of the,…levitation potions! I winced internally as I realized where I had left them.

Divayth smiled as I approached him with the Dwemer Artifact.

“Say, that’s Interesting piece you have there, what can you tell me about it?” he asked in a slightly sarcastic tone, as though he knew what the next sentence from me would be.

“Um, It’s a Dwemer,…thingy. And it’s for you.” I said handing over the piece.

“A gift? For me? How thoughtful. And shrewd. I suppose you know I am a collector. And that such a gift is bound to please me. I congratulate you on your diplomatic skills. So, why have you tried to butter me up? Come to consult the great Divayth Fyr? You have the divine disease? Want to plunder the dungeon? Or leer at my daughters?"

“What do you mean by the Divine Disease? Is that what you call Corprus?”

"The magical principles of corprus disease are elusive and miraculous, far more subtle and powerful than any conventional sorcery or enchantment. I'm persuaded that it is in some manner the curse or blessing of a god. Perhaps both a curse and a blessing. The victim, of course, cannot appreciate the marvelous nature of corprus. It saps the mind and destroys the body. But to a wizard, it is a profound and glorious mystery, a riddle worth a long lifetime of study."

“I actually have the ‘divine disease’ Sera Fyr. I was told you may have—“

“How interesting. Did you know that corprus makes you immune to disease? Have you ever heard of the prophecies of the Nerevarine? Ashlanders say the Nerevarine will be immune to disease. I've always thought, "Maybe I have the Nerevarine down in my Corprusarium, and I don't even know it." Hah. Hah. The Nerevarine is a fat, disgusting corprus monster, and mad as a marsh rat. Wouldn't that be funny?"

I was going to bring up the cure, but his comment stopped me to make me think. The second trial. The Curse of Flesh before him flies. Why was all this happening? Was this coming true? Was this one of the choices I must make? Be cured of Corprus or die trying? Or walk away and die of the disease, thus severing this latest incarnation?

“I may actually fulfill the Prophecies….” I said half-mindedly, not really wanting to speak the words out loud.

“That's a fascinating story you tell. So. You might be the Nerevarine. Means nothing, of course. Corprus victims have all sorts of delusions. But... let me think..."

"I've got a potion. In theory, it should cure corprus. Doesn't work, though. Probably kill you. Killed all my test subjects. But you've got nothing to lose. Before I give it to you, I want you to look around below in the Corprusarium. Know what's in store if you don't take the potion. And while you're there, I want you to pick up a pair of boots from a victim, calls himself Yagrum Bagarn. My oldest patient. Handy fellow, fixes things for me. Bring the boots back, and then you can have the potion."

I raised an eyebrow, Yagrum Bagarn? I had never heard a name such as that, in any tongue. No matter, prophecy or no, I had a disease to cure, or at least try to. I wasted no time in getting to the Corprusarium.

An Argonian in steel armor approached me, before I entered the caverns beneath Tel Fyr, handing me torch.

“This shall be your only weapon in the Corprusarium, do not attack or kill anyone, the victims here are not to be harmed, no matter how far gone they may be.”

I nodded, willing to abide by the rules.

I entered the place, the torchlight flickering of the walls, I saw Dwemer Chests, and pools of water, and wandering half crazed men and Mer, some only recently gone, others with full blown growths and groans.

Some of the victims simply sat where they were, looking up at me with eyes that had been drained of the intellect they once held. I was afraid to say that I looked into the eyes of little more then animals, there flesh half yellowed from corprus. This is what was held in store for me, if I did not cure or died trying to cure corprus, death was a welcome option compared to what I saw.

Continuing through to what I would call the bowels of the Corprusarium, I ran by some of the more dangerous Lame Corpus’s totally mad, and totally lethal. I however made some good use of the strength that corprus gave me, and simply jumped over them.

Finally, I saw a strange sight; a man of some kind was sitting in a contraption of some kind. His belly was swollen beyond what I would call healthy, and he had the pointed ears of an elf, but a full-blown long beard, the likes of which I had never seen. The torchlight passed over the rest of him, as a voice to my right suddenly snapped me out of it.

“Yes, outlander, you’re staring at the last living dwarf. Give him some measure of peace.”

“Yagrum Bagarn? He is--? I mean--? I thought that--?” I was stunned; truly, this was not a straightforward mission. This was my entire perceptions of the world being thrown to the wind.

“I don’t know what to say, Lord Fyr has sent me for some boots, but that hardly seems important now….”

“"You're here for the Dwemer boots? Tell my gracious Keeper that I have done what I could. Only a Dwemer mage crafter could have done so much. But only idiots could have created these boots. It shames my race that we must be judged by the works of such lack-wit blunderers." Yagrum said finally speaking.

I took the boots, and continued talking with him.

“You are the Last Dwemer? Of your entire race, none live still but you? How is this possible?”


“I do not know for a fact that I am the last. But in my travels thousands of years ago, I never encountered another. And since I have been here, I often ask Lord Fyr, but he says he has never heard a credible rumor of another Dwemer, on Tamriel, or in any Outer Realm."

“What happened to your race? Why did the Dwemer depart from the Mundus?”

“Hmm.... I cannot say what happened. I was not there to observe. I was in an Outer Realm at the time, and when I came back, my people were gone. I left Red Mountain, wandering Tamriel for years, searching our deserted colonies, looking for a survivor or an explanation. Then, a long, long time ago, I returned to Red Mountain, still looking for answers. Instead, I found corprus disease, and I have been here ever since. I have theories, if you are interested."

“Of course.” I nodded, very interested in what he had to say.


“Lord Kagrenac, the foremost arcane philosopher and mage crafter of my era, devised tools to shape mythopoeic forces, intending to transcend the limits of Dwemer mortality. However, in reviewing his formulae, some logicians argued that side effects were unpredictable, and errors might be catastrophic. I think Kagrenac might have succeeded in granting our race eternal life, with unforeseen consequences -- such as wholesale displacement to an Outer Realm. Or he may have erred, and utterly destroyed our race."

“You have Corprus, you mentioned? How is it that your not like the rest of the victims here?”

“Since the disappearance of the Dwarves, I have been alone in this world, trapped in this grim prison. I can scarcely move. And my fellow inmates are scarcely good company. The risk of corprus disease deters most visitors. But if you meet with cultivated minds undaunted by the terrors of the Corprusarium, you might mention your recent interview with the Last Living Dwarf.”


"I owe my life to Lord Fyr. He took me in when I was a mad monster, out of my mind. In time, I emerged from my dementia, and now I am quite lucid most of the time, though my body is still a grotesque and useless prison. And I still have some feeble hope of a cure. Lord Fyr has tried many spells and potions. None have helped me, but neither have they harmed me. If anyone can cure this disease, Lord Fyr can."

“I see.” I said quietly, it was sad, but I did not want this to become me, even If I could recover, even mentally, would I want to? No. It was all or nothing for me.

“Sera Bagarn. I promise you that I shall return to you in the passing days, If I indeed have days to come.” I said taking my leave.

“Well, did you get my boots, no boots, no potion.” Said Divayth as I brought set them down on his table, accidentally knocking off a stone of some kind. Picking it up I realized that it was an Index.

“Oh you can have that bloody thing, serves me no purpose.” Divayth said graciously.

“And now, I'll give you the potion, on the following condition: you must drink it here, before my eyes. It should act immediately, and I need to observe you very carefully. Agreed?"

I didn’t need to think about it.

"Yes, give me the potion."

"Good. Open your mouth, and close your eyes..." he said pulling out a vial of clear bluish liquid, I opened my mouth and tilted my head back, he poured the potion, which was utterly tasteless.

"Good. Now swallow... Goodness... Good grief! Look! Look! It's... WORKING!"

I looked at him strangely, but I realized what he said was true. I touched the side of my face, and felt the depressions fill in with my own skin once more.

"Remarkable. Let me check your skin... your eyes... your tongue.... Amazing. I think it worked. No sign of the disease at all. Of course, you still have corprus disease, just like I planned. But all your symptoms are gone. Marvelous. I'll go try it out on some of the more desperate inmates. But I'll answer any questions you have before you go."

“What do you mean I still have it? I thought you said that you had a cure!” I yelled, tired of being treated like a pawn and test subject.

“I don’t think you understand; remember when I said that it was both a blessing and a curse? The curse is that it drives you mad, and tears apart your body by growing muscle. The blessing is that when you have corprus, your immune to disease, all disease, and I think that in your case, you have kept the muscular growth. Indeed, do you not feel stronger then you were before?”

I realized that yes, I did feel the inhuman strength still with me. I felt fine, even better then before.

“What’s this about disease immunity however?”

“Blight, Common, Corprus, and even Age. Yes Sera Velas, Aging is a disease. The corprus victims you’ve seen, some are a few weeks along, others have been here for the last few centuries or so. And Yagrum Bagarn…..he has been alive for Four Thousand years.”

My jaw dropped, just like that, I had passed from Sethyas Velas, mere mortal, to Sethyas Velas, Immortal?

“What were you expecting? That Akatosh himself would come down from the sky and chant some mystical phrase of the first tongue, and a holy fire would envelop you? No my friend, the reality is much less exciting, and much more brutal. Keep in mind, you can still be killed of course, were I too poke you enough times with a pointy stick, rest assured, you’ll feel it.” Divayth said amiably.

I couldn’t believe this, but there it was. I had Corprus, but I didn’t have Corprus, I was stronger and more enduring then before. I was immune to all disease. Perhaps, this Corprus wasn’t so bad, but perhaps I was just lucky, or even different. Things were starting to whirl in my mind.

What if you are Nerevar? I asked myself.

“Sethyas, thank you for your report. I have some news for you, but first, your being promoted to Operative.” Caius said his mind clearly on other matters.

“I’m being promoted? I thought I told you I’m walking away from the Blades!” I exclaimed.

“I won’t be here to stop you if you do, you see, Rithleen just returned from her latest courier run, I’ve been recalled to the Imperial City. And since your Operative Rank now, that makes you the ranking Blades Agent here in Vvardenfell. That’s right, you’re pretty much what I am now. You’re no fool, and I have full confidence in your abilities to lead us, but pretty much it’s just to preserve your independence, each agent has their own assignment, and they’ll continue to send their reports via courier.”

“Why are you leaving? In the midst of all this?”

“Internal politics. Some concern about my sugar. I thought about refusing the recall. But they have members of my family back in the capital. I'm afraid it may have something to do with the problems with the succession. As the Emperor's health declines, factions are maneuvering for advantage. I may be gone a while -- that's why you're promoted to Operative."

“How do you know I’ll follow through with this?”



“Ultimately, every man will come to face his destiny, it’s a funny thing that happens to you, it’s called ‘growing up’ it makes you responsible. You’re starting to grow up, Sethyas. Continue pursuing the Nerevarine prophecies, as the Emperor commands. First, go to the Hall of Wisdom and Justice, and get Mehra Milo to help you find the lost prophecies. She's being watched; if something has gone wrong, find her private quarters; she'll leave you a message there under the code word 'Amaya.' Then take the lost prophecies to Nibani Maesa. From that point, you'll have to follow her directions, and follow the prophecies. Good luck."

I didn’t know what to say, I felt as though I was being abandoned, thrust in the middle of a thing I could barely understand, and then left for dead in the middle of a desert of questions.

“I guess….this is goodbye then,…”I said knowing that there was nothing I could do to stop him. I outstretched my hand, and he firmly grasped mine. He also had something small in his hand. I took it, and examined it, it was a small unassuming ring.

“This is my ring, it might come in handy, its got a nifty little enchantment that fortifies your skill in security and sneak, and it helps you blend into your surroundings, I wont be needing it. You can also use my house while I’m gone, I won’t need most of these things.”

“What if I turn out to be Nerevar, Caius? Shall I send word?”

He frowned, and thought it over.

“If I hear word in the winds of the reincarnation of Nerevar walking Morrowind, once more, I’ll send a message. Otherwise, I doubt that you and I will meet again.”

I nodded knowing the truth of his words, I stayed long enough to see him packs some bags, and leave for the Silt Strider. I sat on the bed for a long time, I thought of myself, my new abilities, and my role in the scheme of things.

It’s a funny thing that happens to you, it’s called ‘growing up’ it makes you responsible. You’re starting to grow up,

This was true. In spite of the massive losses and incredible events that had taken place in these last few months. I persevered. My Sister, dead. My job, a Secret Agent of the Empire I hated. My profession, an Honorable Assassin, in the employ of an Ancient Dunmer Society. If these things weren’t incredible enough, the fact that I was merely Twenty –Five years of age, and already experiencing these things was. Truly I had felt more alive in the last few weeks, then during any other of my days.

Its funny how when you don’t admit to yourself about how what you really want, what you really want still drives you, makes you do things against your will, or at least you think it is, but your really doing exactly what you want, you just need that internal conflict to satisfy your internal critic.

And perhaps against my will, I made my way to Vivec. In the High Fane, I sought out Mehra Milo once more, to take the lost prophecies that she had access to, to take them to Nibani Maesa.

Asking around, the word was mum on Mehra, some folks said that maybe she was in her quarters; others said that they simply hadn’t seen her in a few days.

Stepping before her door, I knocked lightly a few times, an Ordinator taking careful interest in my activities. She had been watched, and now I was drawing attention to myself.

He stood there silently, gazing at me from behind the golden mask. I thought out my next move, and slowly realized that she wasn’t there, I walked off nonchalantly, the Ordinator following close behind me, I began to walk faster down the halls, his pace matched mine, until I finally busted out into a full gait, knocking down a Librarian, papers scattering through the air. The Ordinator yelled for me to stop, leaping over the Librarian.

I ducked to a corner, and found what I had been looking for, the passage to the Hall Underworks, quickly lifting the trap door, I smiled at the Ordinator, as he suddenly stopped and looked at me, descending into the sewers.

He cursed something under his breath and followed suit , I ran along the sewer walkways, as he lit a torch, and ran after, I took advantage of the Shadows, and used the ring of Khajiit to make myself invisible.

He stopped suddenly right in front of me, and cursed to the high heavens and the ancestors that I had gotten away. My heart was beating hard from the merry chase, and sweat aligned my brow, I had one of two options. And being an Assassin, I took the second choice.

As he walked to return to the Hall of Wisdom, I tripped the Guard, and his heavy cuirass brought him crashing to the ground with a loud grunt. I quickly pulled out Mehrunes’ Razor, and brought the tip of the dagger to his throat. He cried out in fear for mercy, but this day, I would not show the Temple any of the Compassion it claimed to have.

I tied some loose bricks to his body, and dumped the corpse, Armor and all, into the sewer ways, likely, this close to the Inner Sea, his body would never be found, as the currents took him to his watery grave.

This time I took the smarter approach and waited a few hours, until after the sun had set, and the middle hours of night shrouded Vivec City in darkness. The medium in which I thrived.


Sneaking up to Mehras Room once more, I picked the lock, making sure that no one was around to witness anything. Upon entering, I did not find any traces of her, save a note:


Amaya,

Sorry I missed you. I had to run some old documents over to the Inquisitor at the Ministry of Truth, and I'm likely to be tied up there for a while. Why don't you meet me there as soon as you can? Then we can leave together as soon as I'm done. And Amaya, don't forget to bring me the two Divine Intervention scrolls you borrowed. Or, if you used them, buy a couple of new ones for me. I think I'm going to need them soon. Janand Maulinie at the Mages Guild in the Foreign Quarter keeps them in stock.

Alvela Saram is the guard at the entrance; just tell her you're looking for me, and she'll let you in.

your faithful friend,
Mehra

So, she was imprisoned in the floating rock, called the Ministry of Truth. And she wanted an Intervention Scroll for a jailbreak, it sounded like fun. Fortunately I still had a Divine Intervention scroll from Caius when he first promoted me to Apprentice.

Within the courtyard of the high fane, neat the Shrine to stop the moon, I snuck in my Dark Brotherhood Armor, looking up at the rock; levitation would be much easier in this case, but nowhere near as fun.

I jumped, perhaps half the distance between me and the lowest bridge built around the rock, with my right hand, I threw a rope with a small hook to the one of the poles, it wrapped around easily, I landed on the ground again, and testing the rope for tautness, began climbing up, praying that my armor would lend me in with the evening.

I realized that if some one was out at this hour, they would likely see my silhouette against the light of Secunda and Masser, climbing this rope to the Vivec Jail. Very risky.

Climbing to the top, I quietly pulled the rope back up, and snuck around the lower proximity, looking at the Ordinator woman looking off into the distance.

Wrapping my arm around her neck, I held her in place and told her to quiet down. I was in no mood to trust Ordinators at the moment.

“You’re the one Mehra told me about? Yes, then please take this key, but do not shed Ordinator blood, some of us are sympathetic to the Dissident priests, but shed Ordinator Blood, and you’ll lose that Sympathy.”

I was tempted to say, ‘too late’, but thought the better of it. Vivec was a big city, who’s to say what happened to my latest victim?

I let her go, while simultaneously casting invisibility. She looked around, wondering if anyone had even been there. I ran to the door and used her key to gain entry.

The moon was a strange place. All carved out, this held the Ministry of truths, likely corrupt Jailors. Sneaking through the shadows in between the regular patrols of the Guards was no problem. And even the lock to the top door, I found to be pathetically simple. They were simply asking for a jailbreak.

Inside the Jail, I surveyed a large campfire, surrounded by prisoners of various races, all being watched over the Guards.

I remain crouched behind the wooden stairs that lead down into the walking area. Then I saw Mehra off in the distance, she was being escorted to a room, which the guard promptly locked behind her. It was lockdown time apparently.

I waited until the guards were back to there stations, and relaxed. I used the ring once more and hurried to her door, Jumping on top of the doors frame, to stay in the shadows, I reached down with my pick and probe, until I heard the clicks of success, and pushed the door open, turning around and standing on the ledge, I jumped off, grabbing the ledge with my hands, and swung forward with my legs, landing in a sneaking crouch, and I back kicked the door closed, careful to stop it from making a slamming sound at the last second by grabbing the handle, less then a second had passed with all that I did. I wasn’t going for an entrance, I just didn’t need to be seen.

And Mehra, lay half naked on a bedroll, she covered herself with the blanket, and whimpered as she saw me, masked and clad in black, with a wicked looking dagger drawn.

“I knew that this day would come. The Temple couldn’t do it themselves, so they hired the Morag Tong! Please make it quick Assassin.” She said crying.

“Well the funny thing is, I am an Assassin, but I’m not here to kill you Mehra.” I said.

The familiarity of my voice brought her back to her senses, as I took off my mask, she saw my smiling face, and she rushed up and embraced me.

“Strange, I had expected Caius, not you. So you’re an Assassin? I suppose that makes sense, after all that suits you perfectly for things such as infiltration. I’m just glad you’re on my side.” She said.

“Do you have the Intervention Scroll?” she asked as I pulled it out and handed it to her.

“Yes, Perfect! If you have one, just use it, and go to the Ebonheart Docks. Look for Blatta Hateria, tell her you want to go fishing. She’ll take care of the rest, meet me at Holamayan. I don’t have the lost prophecies, but I know who does.” She said right before she read the scroll and disappeared into a burst of yellow light.

I didn’t need a scroll as I knew he spell, but I took a few minutes to change into less suspicious clothing. Adorning myself with the Red Robes of the Morag Tong. I casted the spell of Divine Intervention, and made my way to the docks, half-expecting to see Mehra at any second, Instead, I saw the Imperial Woman that Mehra had described.

“Excuse me, I think you know my friend, I’d like to go fishing.”

She smiled slightly as she looked around.

”She just left with Vevrana Aryon. Come on, times wasting, and you don’t want to be seen anywhere near Vivec…” She whispered as I boarded the Ship and she set sail for this mysterious Monastery.

"I'm Vevrana Aryon, a monk of Holamayan. The monastery is here, on this island. Take the stone pathway north from the docks and the path uphill. The entrance is hidden by a magical shield. Wait or rest at the head of the path, and the portal will open at dusk and dawn only, the magical twilight hours sacred to Azura. Mehra Milo has told us of your coming. You can find her in the library with Master Barelo. Later, I can arrange for your return to Vivec whenever you are ready."

I bowed my head to Vevrana, as Blatta took off and gave me a farewell wave. Fortunately the hour was late in the day, and I did not have to wait long for the dome that protected the entrance to the Monastery to open.

I was greeted by an aged monk, whom also bowed his head to me, and I responded in kind.

“Greetings Sethyas Velas, we greet you as our brother, Mehra has told us of how you helped her to escape, and she has run terrible risks staying in the temple like that. You will find her in the Library speaking with Master Barelo.” He gestured with his right hand.

I walked down into the lower areas of the Sanctum, and I did see Mehra sitting and speaking with an aged Dunmer priest, whom rose from his seat, and clasped my hand firmly.

“Thank you. Thank you for what you have done. I know it is too much to ask of a stranger, but I think we can repay your kindness. Mehra says that you seek the ‘lost prophecies’? I think we can help.” He gestured over to a seat at the library’s tables, where a stack of tomes and documents lay ready.

He picked up a few papers, and began looking intently over them, his wrinkled puffy cheeks expanding as he coughed before speaking.

“I have reviewed the Apographa, and have found two passages of particular interest. We've made copies of these passages to give you. Many are familiar with the two Nerevarine prophecies current among the Ashlanders called 'The Stranger' and 'The Seven Vision'. We have two other prophecies, 'The Lost Prophecy' and 'The Seven Curses’ that may offer additional insights into the riddles surrounding the coming of the Incarnate. Perhaps these are the Lost Prophecies that your friend Nibani Maesa told you about." He explained handing me copies of the two prophecies.

We sat in silence for a few moments as I read them, my morbid curiosity forcing me to read that which till now I had dreaded.

From seventh sign of eleventh generation,
Neither Hound nor Guar, nor Seed nor Harrow,
But Dragon-born and far-star-marked,
Outlander Incarnate beneath Red Mountain,
Blessed Guest counters seven curses,
Star-blessed hand wields thrice-cursed blade,
To reap the harvest of the unmourned house.

Notes

Lines 1-3: 'Of ancient family, but not of the four great Ashlander clans. Born under foreign stars and the sign of the Dragon -- the Imperial sign.'

Line 4-5: 'Outlander Incarnate' appears as a formal epithet, stressing the linkage between the words. The Outlander Incarnate is a 'blessed guest', one not born of the tribes but accepted as a guest with rights of hearth and hospitality. Under Red Mountain he will confront and balance against seven curses. See the 'Seven Curses' prophecy; also, Dagoth Ur is served by his seven kin, once great wizard-lords, called 'ash vampires' by the Ashlanders.

Line 6-7: 'Star-blessed' suggests Azura, the Daedra Lord and patron of magic, fate, and prophecy. 'Thrice-cursed blade' may refer to a weapon called Keening, associated in certain legends with the Battle of Red Mountain and Dwemer craft lord Kagrenac. 'Reap the harvest' is a reference to the proverb, "You harvest from the seeds you plant," which means you get what your labors deserve, in both a positive sense of reward and negative sense of punishment. The 'unmourned house' could be either or both of the lost Great Houses of the Dunmer -- House Dwemer and House Dagoth.

I continued on with the The Seven Curses.

through the doors of the unmourned house
where scoffers scoff and schemers scheme
from the halls of the oath-breaking house
rings seven curses of gods blasphemed

first curse, Curse-of-Fire
second curse, Curse-of-Ash
third curse, Curse-of-Flesh
fourth curse, Curse-of-Ghosts
fifth curse, Curse-of-Seed
sixth curse, Curse-of-Despair
seventh curse, Curse-of-Dreams

Notes

Lines 1-3: Ambiguous. May refer to the impiety of the god-mocking House Dwemer, or the treacherous diplomacy of the subtle House Dagoth, or both. House Dagoth, however, was reviled as oath-breakers for their treachery at Red Mountain. It may, however, refer to unspecified broken oaths of peace between Lord Nerevar and Lord Dumac, founders of the Grand Council. Nerevar and Dumac were loyal friends until the disagreements between the Dwemer and the other Great Houses broke out in open conflict.

Line 4: The Dwemer were the mockers and profaners of the divine.

Lines 5-6: The curses of fire and ash would come from Red Mountain where Dagoth Ur rules. These were the earliest reported threats from Red Mountain.

Line 7: Curse of flesh suggest blight diseases, especially corprus. The fire and ash storms preceded the threats of blight and corprus.

Line 8-10: Obscure. May refer to as-yet-unrecognized threats from Dagoth Ur.

Line 11: Recent reports of soul sickness and disturbed dreams come from townsfolk and Ashlanders alike. That the seventh and final curse has begun suggests the threat presented is about to reach a crisis.

Interesting, so Dagoth and Nerevar were in fact liegeman, friends. That explained my dreams, ‘three belied you, three betrayed you, and one you betrayed was three times true’
The three in this case must refer to the Tribunal, Almalexia, Nerevars wife, Vivec, Nerevars Companion, and Sotha Sil, Nerevars apprentice.

Indeed, the ‘Progress of Truth’ speculated that Dagoth Urns power may be derived from the same source as the Tribunals, in that there were not three, but four ‘gods’ Dagoth Ur being the outcast, the black sheep. Driven mad by his betrayal and the power he found at Red Mountain, Dagoth Ur sought revenge, or likely justice.

I looked up at the old monk, a grim look in my eyes.

“I've annotated your copy of 'The Lost Prophecy' with our best efforts at interpretation. But a rough summary might be: 'An outlander -- foreign-born, but welcomed as a guest -- confronts seven curses beneath Red Mountain. His hand, blessed by Azura, uses a cursed blade to bring justice to House Dagoth, or House Dwemer, or both.' The Nerevarine? An outlander? That wouldn't please many Ashlanders, and may explain how the prophecy got lost."

I smiled at the comment, it was a logical assessment.

"Your copy of 'The Seven Curses' bears our guesses at interpreting the verses. In short form: Seven curses come from House Dagoth, or House Dwemer, or both. Fire and ash come from Red Mountain. Flesh is corprus. Ghosts, Seed, and Despair are unclear, but Curse-of-Dreams seems to refer to recent cases of soul sickness and Sleeper attacks in the towns."

“I’ve met a sleeper or two…all this is so, overwhelming. I thought once perhaps I didn’t care for prophecies or Nerevar. But in this light, I begin to realize this is more then just about me, this about everyone…” I mused out loud.

He nodded at my comment and continued his explanations.

“The Heirographa are the collected priestly writings of the Temple. The Apographa are the 'hidden writings' -- secrets known only at the highest levels of priesthood and inquisition. Defying the Temple, we have gathered as much of the Apographa as we can here in Holamayan. One of the chief disputes between the Temple and the Dissident priests is that the Temple hides the truth from its followers."

"A significant part of the Temple hierarchy might be more inclined to accept and tolerate differences of opinion in dogma. But other parts of the Temple, in particular, the Ordinators under Berel Sala, claim that the threat from Red Mountain and Dagoth Ur can only be resisted with a unified, resolute faith. The people are afraid, so they support the hard line. But if we can show ourselves able to confront Dagoth Ur more effectively than the Ordinators, the Temple and the people will support us."

"Our interest in the Nerevarine used to be a matter of principle, a willingness to consider the validity of mystical insights rejected by Temple doctrine. Now, Dagoth Ur grows stronger while the Tribunal grows weaker, and the return of Saint Nerevar, even if only reborn in spirit, may be our best prospect of salvation."

“You really think the Nerevarine Prophecies are true?” I exclaimed

“I unlike my compatriots in the Temple, am at least willing to consider the possibility that they are true, if we seek a savior, and one has been provided, why should we curse it, send it away?”

"The Sixth House is a new threat, and not yet widely recognized as another face of the Devil Dagoth Ur. But it is clearly a sign of a coming crisis, and the Temple may no longer be able to protect Morrowind. In such troubled times, the Dunmer may turn to the ancient pillars of faith, the ancestors and the Daedra, and especially to the prophetic visions granted by Lord Azura. Then they may look to the Nerevarine, Saint Nerevar Reborn, to lead them against the grim armies of Dagoth Ur."

“You understand my meaning? Dagoth Ur is the true enemy, not the Nerevarine. The Dunmer have always been a fractious squabbling people, Nerevar was the last and only person to have truly united us, Ashlander and Houseman alike.”

”Do you think I am the Nerevarine?” I asked quietly, telling him of my brush with Corprus, and what Divayth Fyr had told me of the Nerevarine being immune to disease.

“Only Azura may answer this question, my child. If you are, I understand that it must be a terrible burden to bear. I tell you, most people will expect Nerevar to descend from the sky, laden in golden skin, and with a terrible gaze, and a voice like thunder, destroy the devil Dagoth Ur without a struggle. The reality is always less then the bedtime story. Should your path lead you to the zenith of power, you must not lose yourself; you must not lose your sense of what must be done. That is all the advice I can give you, my son.”

I nodded, understanding his meaning. I spent a few days in the Monastery reading books, spending time with the monks, even joining them in meditation for a while. Though it did little good, as my mind was a torrent of questions.

Soon, I would have to leave, and bring the words of the lost prophecies to Nibani and Sul-Matuul.

I almost wish I hadn’t returned to Nibani. Indeed, after a long journey back to the Ashlands, she had little to say to me, and seemed more suspicious then ever of the outlander claiming to be an incarnate. She was courteous to a clan friend nonetheless.

“Do you bring me news of the lost prophecies?" she asked in a hushed tone.

I nodded, pulling out a sheaf of papers, stopping myself from handing them over, remembering what Hannat Zainsubani told me of the Ashlanders scorn of the written word.

"You have these lost prophecies? You will tell me these things, over and over, until I have them by heart. And then you will tell me what these priests say, what they see in these words. And then, you must leave me. Hunt. Sleep. Train. Feed. Learn the land. I must bring these things into me, and place them before my ancestors, and listen to them, and to the skies and stars of my dreams. And then, when the moons have come and gone, return, and I will give you my judgment."

For three nights, I stayed with Nibani, speaking the words of the prophecies to her, until even I knew them. Then I took my leave, and for three of the moons, I hunted, taking out a few bandit caves near Khuul, and selling the loot locally.

It was a slow torture; it was like watching a pair of dice rolling in slow motion, wondering whether your gamble would bring you fortune or ruin. I didn’t even know which being the Nerevarine was, if I was indeed.

Returning the third night, I brought with me a large pack of supplies from my adventuring for the tribe, hides, Kwama eggs, you name it, and I had it. I still felt a bit guilty about the last time I had been here, and the loot that now brought me great wealth. Strange how I still hated the rich however, I suppose the Nobility is a more accurate term.

Nibani’s Attitude had taken a complete turnabout with me; she now treated me as though I were her own son. She embraced me with open arms, and asked how I had fared. She sat me down, her deep red eyes staring into my own.

“The ancestors and stars have given me clear signs. The lost prophecies leave no doubt -- the Incarnate shall be an outlander. You, blessed by Azura, must lift the seven curses of Dagoth Ur. Prophecy has shown the seven steps of the Nerevarine's path, and I have been chosen as your guide for each step on that path. I will read the signs, and show you the way. It is time for you to walk the path of the Seven Visions, and pass the Seven Trials of the Seven Visions."

"You are born on a certain day to uncertain parents. So you have passed the first trial. My dreams show me that you also fulfill the second trial, that 'neither blight nor age can harm him-The Curse-of-Flesh before him flies'. I have read the signs, but I cannot understand. Can you explain this to me?"

I told her of my nightmarish experience into Ilunibi, and how Dagoth Gares cursed me with Corprus, and how Divayth Fyr, a Telvanni Mage-Lord gave me a cure, and the side benefits of the disease.

"That you have overcome the Curse-of-Flesh is strange enough, but that it should protect you from blight and age is past belief. I don’t know if what you say is true. But the signs of my dreams are clear…”

I picked out a small iron dagger of my satchel, and gripping both the hilt and the blade, I snapped the blade like it was a twig; she stared with unbelieving eyes at my palms, showing no signs of blood.

“Incredible, you have kept the strength of the Corprus Beasts. You have passed the second trial. But the third trial is unfulfilled. The mystery of the third trial is not my secret to share. Go to Sul-Matuul, the guardian of our cult, and he shall tell you of the third trial.”

I thanked her, but I was still uncertain, though becoming more believing. I couldn’t let dreams decide my destiny, or convince me to jump headlong into some suicidal nonsense. No, if I was blessed by Azura, she was going to have to start talking to me directly; I was quickly losing patience in mysticism and prophecies.

I went to speak with Sul-Matuul, as Nibani bade me to, it was refreshing to hear what he had to say, and his approach to the whole situation.

“You wish to know about the Third Trial, and I shall tell you." He said quietly.

“Yes, Lord Ashkan. I feel that it is time to face this thing once and for all.”

"You have entered the path of the Nerevarine. This is a hard thing to believe. But Nibani Maesa has spoken to me at length of this, and I have had time to consider. Therefore I shall keep my own counsel, and set before you my own test. I do not dispute with the wise women, but their ways are not the ways of the warrior. Many before have tried the path of the Nerevarine, but all have failed the warrior's test. You must have strength, courage, and cunning. These things I would test."

I nodded in full agreement, finally, a down to earth approach.

"Nearby lies Kogoruhn, the ancient halls of the forgotten house, House Dagoth. In recent time, creatures of the blight have come to dwell there. I myself went there, with some brave hunters, and came back again, but it was a bad place, and I am not ashamed to say I was afraid, for myself and my men. If you would have from me the secret of the Third Trial, the 'caverns dark' where Azura's eye sees, you will first bring to me three tokens from dark Kogoruhn."

“Is this another harrowing?” I asked.

“No. This is my test to ensure that you are able to face what must lie before you, now stop interrupting!” He barked at me.


"The first token is corprus weeping’s from a corprus beast, to show that you are proof against the disease's corruption. The second token is a cup with the mark of House Dagoth, for I have myself seen such cups there, and will know you have seen with your eyes what I have seen with mine. The third token is the Shadow Shield, which lies on the Tomb of Dagoth Morin, in the lava tunnels deep beneath ruined Kogoruhn. Bring these things to me, and then I will tell you the secret of the Third Test."

Kogoruhn. The name was familiar. I recalled back to the days when I had long began this tirade with the Blades, and Hasphat Antabolis had told me that was once their homestead.

So, it was time to dance with the Devil in his house, it would seem.

I prepared myself for an assault upon the ruins of the former Sixth House. Funny, every time I thought that it was time to ‘dance with the devil’ something strange happened. Last time it had been Corprus. Now I wondered what would happen this time.

Regardless, I had a test to pass, and a point to prove. That point being that the members of the Sixth House, would not stand before my fury. I was to act almost totally alone against an army that seemed to be gathering en masse to reclaim Vvardenfell. It would be the path of generalization and a sign of low thinking to assume that the Sixth House was simply evil.

No, the Sixth House was a group with its own set of customs, beliefs and goals. Albeit, different than what others had come to accept as ‘normal’, but there was a lot to admire about Dagoth Ur’s followers. The followers came to him through suffering corprus and falling mad to his dreams. So the followers were submissive, and physically strong off the bat. My willpower, it would seem, was too strong for the Sharmat to get me running through the town in the middle of the night, naked and screaming, to the most local Sixth House Base.

Rather, I ran through the Ashlands, silent and fully armored, to both pass Sul-Matuul’s test, and take out a major stronghold of my enemy. Fear is the path of the foolish. There is a saying amongst the Dark Brotherhood. ‘Nothing is True, Everything is Permitted.’ Essentially meaning, that laws and social stigma and taboos were illusory, and that all actions that we yearn to actually do, is possible.

Such a credo, would not last long amongst my more disciplined brothers in the Morag Tong. We survived through self-control, though the belief that we did have in common with the Dark Brotherhood, was that fear was the mind-killer, it could imprison you, blind you, and hold you back. There was no use for fear in this battle, but I tell you, it took all my strength to hold it back.

Kogoruhn is a place of nightmares, ancient bones of what was once a great structure reached far into the sky, tended to slightly by a few raised stones. Centuries of Ash storms littered the courtyard with piles and small hills of the grey dirt, but it made scaling the walls a simple matter. The naked Dunmer staring at the sky was not.

“Fire, pincers, claws, wheels. What slave knows what the lover feels?” he said as I approached.

“Are you going to make me kill you too? You can’t take your mind back from him, can you?” I asked silently.

He looked at the Black-Clad Assassin standing before him as though I weren’t even there, his eyes seeing other things.

“Dagoth Ur is Lord! Why have you denied him Sethyas Velas? For all will come before his as flesh, or they will be blown upon the wind as dust!” he yelled, and grabbed a handful of ash and blew it at me.

“Great, another nutcase.” I said pulling out an Ancient Silver Dagger, and ended his life with a merciful thrust to the midsection, the poison ending him in mere seconds.

Looking about the courtyard, I unslung my bow, and proceeded into the Dome of Pollock’s Eve, figuring I would take this room by room. Who knew how long this would take? I could end up being here for days, assuming I survived at all.

I beheld once more the nightmarish red glow of candles, and an odd stacking of furniture in the dome. Walking around, and occasionally kneeling in what seemed to be prayer, another Ash Ghoul, this one addressing itself as Dagoth Girer.

“You have betrayed Lord Dagoth, taste his vengeance. Had you not slain Dagoth Gares, our fallen brother, I might spare you.” Its high-pitched whistling voice said as he prepared a spell.

I found it strange that the Sixth House Agents were willing to speak to me, but nonetheless, I fired the poisoned Silverthorn Arrows at the beast, dodging the sparks of shock magicka that he fired at me. Eventually he fell, succumbing to the potent poison that coursed through his veins.

Looking around, I found upon a table, a Cup that was unique and unmistakable as a House Dagoth cup. It was evil-looking, with a red basin inside its black exterior. It was also appealing to me somehow. I could sense no curse or enchantment upon it, and carefully wrapped it in a cloth, and placed it within my satchel.

Exiting, the dome I returned to my search. The Shadow Shield was deep under the Stronghold, and I still had to get Corprus Weeping’s in order to prove my immunity to Corprus Disease. Entering the Temple of Fey , a small shrine it would appear, and a Corprus Stalker stumbled his way toward me. I unsheathed Mehrunes Razor, and resheathed it in the Stalkers chest and abdomen several times. After the beast succumbed to the razors poison, I took a bit of the secretions off of its back; it was repulsive, but necessary.

Then something I had never seen before greeted me from the dais in a similar voice to an Ash Ghoul. It was physically more robust then an ash ghoul, and it stared at me with four huge black eyes, and from it huge head, there were four tentacle protrusions, and to top it off it seemed to be wearing a robe of some sort. This was a creature of nightmare. I had seen some hellish things within the Sixth House. But this was beginning to take the cake.

“Greeting Sethyas Velas. I am Dagoth Uvil. You are the Star-blessed hero? Or the Daedra’s Pawn? Only one way to find out. If you have the courage.”

Again with the talking it seemed, but he did raise an interesting point.

“The Daedra’s Pawn you call me, Dagoth. What is your meaning?”

“Have you asked yourself, WHY are you doing Azura’s bidding? Are you in the habit of trusting Daedra Lords? Have you forgotten what scheming, treacherous fiends the Daedra are? Come on, hero. Why are you still talking? Are you afraid?”

I walked to him slowly, his mouth tendrils swaying a bit. Behind him I saw a row of bells, and a large hammer. I thought about his point. Then I grabbed the hammer, and swung down on his large skull, how many swings I took, I don’t know. I only recall a flurry of rage and screaming. Hardly an Assassin’s way of dispatching his marks. But this creature brought out a fear and loathing in me that I took out upon him, until its corpse disappeared in a flash of light, and only a skull remained.

I breathed heavily, looking about the shrine. The brick torch-pits lighting the room, I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. But I proceeded to a larger section of the stronghold, which had scratching on the door that spelled out, “The Hall of Phisto” in some ancient Aldmeris.

The long brick hallways were filled with torches, and more of the ghouls and ascended sleepers. Using the hammer, I took out a newfound rage upon the Sixth House denizens, putting my corprus-augmented strength and endurance to good use.


I continued to descend into the stronghold, entering into a section called the ‘Hall of Maki’. Within the halls, I found a strange glyph or symbol arranged on the floor in gold coins. Looking at it some more, I remembered the strange symbol that the dreamer prophet in Vivec had been making from twigs. This was that same arrangement. It must have been some sort of symbol of the Sixth House.

Finally, I found the door to a sewer system, but the lock was far too complex for me to pick. There had to be a key around somewhere, so in search, I casted a ‘detect key’ spell and the mythic energy led me to another room in the huge stronghold. The Vault of Aerode.

Once more, I was in a combat situation with Flame Atronachs, and Corprus Stalkers, the huge bridge I fought on made balance and precision essential to survival. Throwing down the Bell Hammer, the Daedric Katana sang as I unsheathed it, the dark blade darkened even more with corprus entrails.

Finally, I made my way to a small room where yet another Ascended Sleeper, this one name Dagoth Ulen, mocked me, and continued his attempts to make me doubt myself.

“Look! It’s Azura’s Fool! Look at You! Not a real thing at all, just a pathetic puppet of prophecy. And you think you can trust the Daedra lords? Mortals are but simple sport to the Daedra Lords. They pull the strings, and you poor fools leap and dance. Why do you serve them? Why do you fall for their honeyed lies? For ages you’ve yielded to their temptations, their false promises. How soon you forget their treachery, their deceits.”

“ I am here for a different reason. Besides. If she is my ally against you. Then so be it.” I replied.

“Ah, she ‘s sucked you in with pretty prophecies. Promised you power, did she? Promised you justice, did she? And when did a Daedra Lord ever fulfill such a promise? Such a faulty memory you have.”

In the time he took with talking with me, I managed to sneak in close to him, and pulled out a poisoned dagger, and brought it crashing down into his skull.

“And you talk too much.” I said as he writhed and twisted in agony before he died in the same manner as the prior Dagoth.

I pulled the key to the Nabith Waterway from around his neck, and added his Sixth House Amulet, to my growing collection.

Using my ring this time, I entered the Nabith Sewers unseen, and approached a door that was carved into the wall and rock underground. Stepping inside, the red glow of lava, and the smell of sulfur protruded my senses. It was strangely bright in here, but I realized that it was due to the lightness of the walls and glow of the lava bouncing off of it. I moved around, checking passageways, and once more, I saw something new.

Perhaps it had once been a Dunmer, or even a Dwemer. It stood over eight feet tall, had a humans body and face even. I would not describe it as grotesque or nightmarish even. And the reason I say either a Dunmer or a Dwemer, was the red eyes, and long beard that I had seen on Yagrum Bagarn. He had the pointed ears of Elven races, though his skin was the ash grey of the Sixth House Servants I had encountered thus far.

I approached it, and removed my mask. It spoke and introduced itself, its voice was transcendental and deep, like his voice came from a rumbling within the cavern walls around us.

“Hello, Nerevar. I am Dagoth Uthol. He said you would come to us. And he was right. Have you come to submit? Or come to die?"

“Dagoth Ur, I assume to be your meaning. Have you all been waiting for me? Wondering If I will join the Sixth House?”

“Lord Dagoth says you will join us or die. I thought you might just leave us alone, and go about your own affairs. But Lord Dagoth says it is not your way, to leave a thing well enough alone. Perhaps. I cannot remember you at all. But I do my Lord's bidding. I have always done his bidding. So go to him and submit. You will be given power and place. And, perhaps, peace and forgiveness. Do as you like." He said in a sad and tired tone, if there was a tone to the creature’s voice that is. He said that he did not remember me, and he seemed content in the fact that I was Nerevar Reborn, even if I was not.

“And if I don’t want to join?” I asked Uthol.

“He said you might come to fight, it does not matter one way or the other.”

“And if I do?” I said seeing how much information I could get out of him, I being a staunch believer in that there is no knowledge that is not power.

“Keep going. These passages lead under the Ghostfence and into the crater of Red Mountain. Then enter the Mount of Dagoth Ur, and find Lord Dagoth. Make your submission, and perhaps you may join us. Ha. If you survive such a journey, we'd be glad to have you join us."

I thought about what I had been told, I looked at the cavern door behind him, and I could hear the faint roar of an Ash storm behind it. Was I a mere pawn to Azura? Undoubtedly I was. Even if I was ‘blessed’, what stake did she have in this? What Daedra Prince truly loves a people?

But I chose to face the Enemy here and now, and fingering a Grand Soul Gem that I had plundered in one of the bandit caves while waiting for Nibani to dream.

I casted a soul trap spell upon the Ancient Ash Vampire. The being knew that was a hostile move, and I aimed to steal his soul.

The battle was joined, and I did not have stealth to my advantage. But I had my Black Hands Dagger, and I had my agility. Striking the creature several times, he threw punches and spells at me, every time a blow landed upon me. My health was restored by his own. Finally, he showed signs of slowing down. And he collapsed in a heap as the ding energies of his soul were now mine.

I fingered the Gem, and gave a macabre smile. There truly was no rest for the wicked. Besides, I would not risk Dagoth Ur resurrecting one of his lieutenants, I had heard of tales about how they were killed over and over, only to return in time. That would not be occurring with Uthol.

Finally set about my goal of the final token for Sul-Matuul, I saw an enchanted Dwemer Shield within a series of small offering shrines, it had the ability to render its wearer invisible, and restore fatigue for a short time. In other words, the perfect device for fleeing.

I claimed the shield and hurried through the caverns and passages of Kogoruhn, and ran at my full speed back to the Urshilaku Camp to present my tokens to Sul-Matuul.

I returned under the light of the twin moons, weary and hungry. The tribe was eager to hear of my tales within Kogoruhn, what had transpired, and whether I was successful, or had merely fled. I would say nothing until I had eaten and slept. I voraciously snacked down upon bread and scuttle, whetting my appetite. Then fell into a deep sleep in Nibani’s yurt, her gentle hands stroking my hair, and she hummed some Ashlander song quietly.

Hours passed, and my mind reeled with images of the Nightmarish Sixth House Base, red candles lit the faces of Ascended Sleepers and Ash Ghouls. Corprus Monsters howled in pain within my mind. I shook it off as I arose to the new morning’s sun.

Nibani was quiet and she did not ask me of what had happened, she merely paid mind only to her alchemy, and I exited, walking to the Ashkhan’s yurt.

I carefully placed the Shield, the Cup, and the Corprus Weeping’s before Sul-Matuul on the ground, and I knelt looking up at him, as he paced back and forth, carefully examining the tokens.

He stopped in mid-stride, and broke into a smile.

"I am impressed. These three tokens you have brought me. You may keep them. You have passed the Warrior's Test. And I will give you the secret of the Third Trial.”

I nodded. Eager to face the final test of whether I was the Nerevarine or not, the questions and the waiting were taking its toll on my psyche.

'In caverns dark Azura's eye sees/and makes to shine the moon and star.' This is the Third Vision. And you must go to the Cavern of the Incarnate, a place sacred to Azura, and look for the moon and star. The secret of the Cavern of the Incarnate is set in a riddle:

the eye of the needle lies in the teeth of the wind
the mouth of the cave lies in the skin of the pearl
the dream is the door and the star is the key"

"This riddle is Wisdom's Test. Take counsel of the wisdom of the tribes, and you shall find the way. Seek the Cavern of the Incarnate. Gain the moon and star, and bring it to Nibani Maesa. Take with you my blessing, and the blessing of our tribe, Malipu-Ataman's Belt."

I took from him the belt, and thought over the riddle he had presented. It meant nothing to me, but he did say to take counsel in the wisdom of the tribes. Wisdom also knows when you need help, and the willingness to ask for it.

I approached Tussurradad, a scout of the Urshilaku, and asked him if he had any insights to share.

"This token of our tribe, Malipu-Ataman's Belt, is proof of Sul-Matuul's blessing. Let me think.... Perhaps you mean the Needle? It is a tall rock column in the Valley of the Wind. I have slept beneath it once or twice. The Valley of the Wind is a valley on the northeast slopes of Red Mountain. The entrance to the valley is marked by Airan's Teeth, two tall rock spires."

And as for this ‘teeth of the wind…... Hmm. I know no place of that name. But there is a place called 'Airan's Teeth' in the Valley of the Wind. These two rocks spires mark the entrance to the Valley of the Wind, and they bear the name of the seer, Airan, one blessed by Azura."

“Airan's Teeth are two stone spikes at the mouth of Valley of the Wind. The Valley of the Wind runs south from the sea in the northeast of Vvardenfell, east of Dwemer Bthuand, east of Daedric Zergonipal. We stay away from the valley; the winds howl, and the spirits are always awake. Dareleth Ancestral Tomb is in this valley. It is foolish to disturb the spirits in their resting place."

It thanked him for the directions, and pulled out my map, attempting to divine a location. The northeast slopes of Red Mountain? I wasn’t about to head into the Devils lair. Then I realized what he meant was outside the Ghostfence. I had never been to Ghostgate, but had seen the mystical energies the made the barrier from Ald’Ruhn.

I set upon my journey, taking many supplies, and carrying as many food and weapons that I could carry. For many days I trudged through the Ashlands eastward, braving attacking animals and ash storms. Sleep only came once in a while, and I began to doubt the veracity of the whole journey.

It started to become a joke, a wretched assassin, being sent to this backwater Island to be punished by the Emperor. The illusion of freedom being dangerously dangled a few inches from my face at every turn. But always with sense of duty, of responsibility, and most seductive of all, curiosity, ever driving me forward.

I passed Bthuand, and Zergonipal, maintaining a distance from them as I did not wish to be sidetracked with random adventuring. I was a pilgrim on a search for answers, and that remained my only clear objective.

And finally, after hours of searching, I came across a path that led upwards hidden within the valley of the wind as described by Tussurradad. I climbed the winding path, and indeed, at the ending of this path, there lay a large stone carved door, with moon and star carvings and inscriptions. A door anointed with symbols sacred to Azura. I truly believed this to be the Cavern of the Incarnate.

I put my hand to the door, and a voice called out.

The door is locked, and will not open. The star is the key.

So, another door that was set to open and close based on Azura’s Star, just like Holamayan. Since it was the middle of the night, I had a few hours to wait until dawn. I sat there and thought, and thought. And thought some more. Should I just walk away? If becoming the Nerevarine was a choice, I could still choose to not become it, just take my treasures and riches and retire to some remote province. Perhaps Daggerfall, and live the rest of my days in leisure.

Then I recalled the Corprus. Short of violent death, I would not see the end of my days anytime soon. I recalled the Sixth House, and there nightmarish legions of diseased followers.

As much as I had lost, as much as the ones I loved were taken away from me, I couldn’t let others suffer the fate of Dagoth Ur. If I was the last hope, then that meant I was all that stood between Dagoth Ur and all of Tamriel. Retiring into leisure was merely awaiting certain death at the Hands of Dagoth’s Legions.

No. I would face the Devil. If I was a failed incarnate. So be it.

As if on cue, the dawn hour arose, and in the distance Azura’s Star arose. I placed my hand on the door once more. And a voice called once again.

In the Dawn Hour under Azura’s Star, the Door is opened.

I entered a dank dark cave, and slowly walked too the only source of light I could see, other then the mushrooms growing within the caves. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw a ring suspended in midair.

Then I casted a night-eye spell and I saw it. I took a step back in surprise. A massive statue of Azura knelt towering over me. Carved from the very rock of the cave. Within her hands, the ring bore a moon and star insignia.

The Moon and Star. One-Clan-Under-Moon-and-Star.


"Legend says Indoril Nerevar's family standard bore the moon and star, and Nerevar's armor and weapons bore this sign. Some say he bore a moon-and-star birthmark. Some say he has a magic ring marked with a moon-and-star. Others say he was born under a moon-and-star. In any case, I think the moon-and-star is the mark of the Nerevarine, and you do not have this mark. So you are not the Nerevarine." Nibani’s words echoed in my mind.

And I had heard the other tales of this ring from the Telvanni, they said he went to a Dwemer Mage-Crafter, and that the ring gave its wearer power of persuasion, and indisputable proof of Identity, as anyone but Nerevar who wore the ring, was instantly killed.

About the cave were mummies, others who had come to claim the title of Nerevarine, and failed. They were not Nerevar, so when they tried, they passed on. And this was likely to be my fate, another failed incarnate whose remains rotted away in some hidden cave, led by some silly superstitions and dreams to this bauble.

I sighed and stared at the ring for a long time. The Third Trial. But, do I choose to be the Nerevarine? Do I stake my very life to find out?

I answered yes aloud to no one. I would not live my life in fear, even though that fear desperately clutched at my hand as I reached out for the ring, every second, every heartbeat stretching out into an eternity. I fought against my doubt, my fears, against every rational thought in my head that told me to run away as fast as I could, and finally in a burst of madness, thank Sheogorath, I reached out and grabbed the ring!

My eyes were shut closed tight. I felt…..nothing.

I opened my eyes slowly, and looked around. I was still here. I felt my chest and heart. I was still alive. I was confused. Then I remembered, any who WORE the ring were instantly killed.

Well, I had been this stupid so far, I told my self as I slipped off my black glove, and quickly slipped on the Moon and Star. The feeling was electric, and I felt myself leave my body, and the walls around me expanded infinitely. So, I was dying, and this is what it felt like.

Wait, no. I wasn’t dying, I was having a vision. Images of Morrowind began to flood my Minds Eye, and Azura’s voice filled my ears.


” Nerevar Reborn, Incarnate:
Your first three trials are finished.
Now, two new trials lie before you.
Seek the Ashlander Ashkhan’s, and the Great House Councils.
Four tribes must name you Nerevarine.
Three houses must name you Hortator.
My servant Nibani Maesa shall be your guide.
And when you are Hortator and Nerevarine,
when you've stood before the False God
and freed the heart from its prison,
heal my people and restore Morrowind.
Do this for me and with my blessing."

I awoke I know not how much longer, I arose in the cavern, the transcendental experience making my head a bit woozy, and around me stood the translucent spirits of failed incarnates.

“I’m in way over my head.” I said staring at the Ghosts of the Ancestors.

The dim cavern was now lighted with the otherworldly emanations of the spirits. They beheld me with calm and patient countenances, waiting for me to speak. I was dumbstruck, and in awe. And I stammered as I spoke first with a Middle-aged looking Dunmer Woman.

"Welcome, Incarnate, Moon-and-Star Reborn, Hortator, Nerevarine, Mourner of the Tribe Unmourned, Redeemer of the False Gods. I am Peakstar. I was not the one. But I wait and hope. Ask, and I shall answer, if wisdom guides me." She spoke in a voice that sounded like wind blowing in passively from another realm.

“YOU are Peakstar? I have heard much of you; no one believed that you were dead. But to think, that you came this far…only to find death.” I trailed off thinking of the disbelieving thieves’ guild members, the rumors, the Temple, and the Urshilaku Tribesman who spoke of an orphan that washed onto the shore.

“These things that you call me, these words. You place too much faith in me, Great Spirit.” I said to her, she looked at my hand, and lifted it with hers.

“You bear the Moon-and-Star, the ring of Nerevar. None may deny; you ARE Nerevar Reborn, the prophesied Incarnate. The Temple will know you as an enemy. Ordinators will mark you for death, and the Tribunal Faithful of the Great Houses will hate and fear you. The doubters of the Tribes will test your strength and doubt your honor. You will be known. You must prepare, and be ready." She warned me ominously.

“Can you help me? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Azura spoke to me in an obscure vision, but she does not help the one she claims to bless!” I spoke in a heathen tone. Peakstars tone became at once chastising and forgiving, as she had the wisdom of years of contemplation.

“I will answer when I can, and with what I know. But the visions of Azura are often obscure, for two reasons. One, because the future cannot be known, and choices may always be made. Two, because truth is not clear or simple. Azura's riddles warn us to think long and hard. They force us to search carefully for truth and meaning, and not to rely only on impulse and force.” She explained to me.

I thought about her explanations. They were true, I was no puppet. Azura would show the path, but I was the one who must walk it. I must be strong enough in mind and body.

“Then tell me what I must do. Where do I go from here? How do I proceed?”

“Dunmer of the Ashlands and Dunmer of the Houses have traditions of a War Leader set over all the tribes in times of need. First, your task is to prove to them their need. Then you must prove that you should be their war leader -- the Nerevarine, for Ashlanders; the Hortator, for the Great Houses."

"To show them their need, you must tell them about the Tribunal, how they have adopted the profane tools of the Dwarves, how they have betrayed and misled their people -- and give them proofs. You must tell them about Dagoth Ur, and the Sixth House, about their powers and plans, and how the Tribunal no longer has power to contain them."

“You must go before the Councilors of the Great Houses and satisfy them, for only the Councils of the Great Houses can name you 'Hortator.' I do not know the settled people of the Great Houses, and can offer you no counsel."

"You must go before the Ashkans of the Wastes People and satisfy them, for only the Ashkans of the Four Tribes can name you 'Nerevarine.' Speak first with Sul-Matuul of the Urshilaku, and with Wise Woman Nibani Maesa, for of all the Ashlanders, they are wisest in the lore of the Incarnate, and you have already shown Sul-Matuul proof of your worth."

I choked aloud at her instructions. “I am no General! I am no leader of Men and Mer! I can barely help myself; much less lead an Army! What you state is madness! This surely must be a plot of Sheogorath!” I spat out.

She shook her head. “These things you are not. These things you must become. To prove to them your fitness as War Leader to the Dunmer people, you must demonstrate your might in battle, your honor in speech, and your wisdom in leadership."

I shook my head. The responsibility was grim. Too grim perhaps. If the Moon-and-Star hadn’t killed me, then the Dunmer people surely would, when an outlander claiming to be their greatest General reborn, tried to unite them under his banner.

“There is not more I would ask of you patient Spirit.” I said tears welling in my eyes. Then I looked into her sad eyes, and I realized there was one more question.

“Except, what did you learn of Dagoth Ur? Can you share any insights? Things perhaps I did not learn?”

She considered the question, and gave me her final speech.

"Kagrenac, high priest of the Dwemer, forged enchanted artifacts to steal the power of the gods. Nerevar fought the Dwemer to prevent this blasphemy. But Dagoth Ur took these tools to make himself a god. And the Tribunal took these tools to make themselves gods. Though the Tribunal sought to do good with their power, they are tainted by the same corrupt desires that move Dagoth Ur."

"The Tribunal and Dagoth Ur have the unnatural abilities and life spans of gods. But they gained these things by actions that mock the gods and misuse divine power. They were ambitious and unwise, and the consequences of these ungodly acts threaten all that lives in Morrowind."

"Pity Dagoth Ur and the Sixth House. All they do, all they are is foul and evil, but they began in brightness and honor, and the cause of their fall was their loyal service to you, Lord Nerevar. You told Lord Dagoth to guard the profane tools beneath Red Mountain, and thus he was tempted. He did your bidding when he tried to keep these tools from the Tribunal, and so he hates you, who betrayed him, and the Tribunal, who mocked his honor, attacked him, and stole the profane tools for their own use."

I broke down into tears. This was overwhelming. I came not only to unite the Dunmer under my banner, defeat the Sixth House, that I supposedly once shared love with, if I was Nerevar. I was to kill an old friend, a friend that offered to forgive me, and share power, even after all these millennia. The three betrayers, Vivec, Almalexia, and Sotha Sil, were the cornerstone of faith of these people, and I came to call them False Gods, betrayers of the people they claimed to love, and perhaps they did. It was not a black and white situation. If anything, Almsivi, and Dagoth Ur were two sides of the same coin, and unfortunately, when you flip a coin, you may choose only one side. Even if that coin fell on its edge.

I was choosing the edge.

I doubted that any of what Peakstar spoke of would come to pass. But it didn’t mean that I could not try. And now, with a responsibility that weighed as much as Morrowind thrust upon my shoulders, I spoke with the other failed incarnates; they spoke to me of their pasts, and gave me their blessings.

I trudged through the Ashlands, the days and nights blending into a singular haze, I recall very little of my trek back to the Urshilaku Camp, except for one thing that remained strangely omnipresent throughout my experiences here in Vvardenfell.

The strange feeling that I had been here before. I had never set foot upon Vvardenfell or in Morrowind prior to that prison ship trip. I had lived as a poor beggar and bandit that practiced the trade of Assassin in Cyrodiil. My experiences with other Dunmer had been few and far between. And the ones that were natives of Morrowind, looked upon me and my Sister with disdain, as though we were not of the same race. And yet, I felt an intrinsic fellowship with the land. I had just never been able to put my finger on it before this third trial.

From the distance, the tribesman spotted me on the horizon walking back to the camp. Yells became audible, and the children rushed toward me. Men and women gathered in the center, a crowd growing. Even Sul-Matuul stood outside of his yurts door, no expression betrayed his stoic countenance. As I walked forward with the children laughing and running alongside me, a quiet hush grew over the crowd, anticipation growing as they wondered whether this traveler had walked away from the ring, a man they fully expected to die as another failed incarnate.

I stood on a small hill overlooking the expectant gazes of the Urshilaku Camp.

I pumped my fist into the air, the Moon-and-Star visible for all to see. And Cheers erupted.

“SETHYAS VELAS!!! NEREVARINE!!!”

I entered into the throng of cheering Ashlanders, my eyes fixed intently only on Sul-Matuul. He returned my gaze and turned into his yurt, to which I followed him.

Inside, we stood silent for several seconds, merely looking upon one another in a new light. Finally he broke the silence.

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

“Of course, Great Ashkan. I need your words, now more then ever.”

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

I thought long and hard. I was not a member of the Temple, nor would I join an organization of black lies. Not now, not after what I had learned. I was not a Member of any house, nor did I see or feel the need for it. If I was to unite the houses, the fact that I was an Outlander was bad enough, dragging in interhouse politics might unnecessarily complicate matters. Besides, I was of the Morag Tong, I profited off of my neutrality.

“Wise words, but I do not see their need just yet. Let us proceed.”

“Very well. You wish to be called 'Nerevarine.' I know you, and am disposed to do so. But first we must speak of need and duty. Before I name you 'Nerevarine,' you must understand why a war leader is needed, so you may tell others. And before I name you 'Nerevarine,' I must see that you know your duty. Only when we have spoken of these things shall you be called Nerevarine."

I nodded, fully understanding his meaning. Nerevarine was a need and a duty, not a ceremonial title, not a fancy magic ring. No. Nerevar was the first and only Man ever to unite the fractious Dunmer, a monumental task in and of itself, he also managed to keep peace between the Chimer and Dwemer for years. He was as much a Diplomat as he was a Warrior.

“Know the words of the prophecies. The curse of Dagoth Ur and the Sixth House threatens our land. The False Gods lie, and offer false hope of protection. You bear the Moon-and-Star of Nerevar. Azura's hand is upon you. These are the proofs you must show to all people as Urshilaku Nerevarine."

"From the unmourned house have come forth the seven curses. The Sixth House is a great evil, and a great danger to all people. This is the need. You have seen this need. You have fought the Sixth House. You have known the curse of corprus. You have harrowed Kogoruhn, and seen the darkness that lies within. When you tell your story, others may be shown the proofs."

"You have learned the lies of the Tribunal and the false hope they offer of protection from Dagoth Ur. We have heard the priest's own words of the Apographa, and we know them to be true. We have heard the words of the Dissident Priests, and we know them to be true. The False Gods have broken their promises, and have taken up the tools of the Enemy. This is a great evil, and a great danger."

He grasped my hand with his and brought it upwards, much as Peakstar had.

"You wear the Moon-and-Star of Nerevar. The legend of Moon-and-Star is known to all lore masters. No man but Nerevar may wear that ring and live. This is a true sign. This is a miracle, a blessing of Azura, and no man may deny it." He stated strongly, looking into my eyes with a grave seriousness.

"You shall be Nerevarine of all the tribes, and Hortator of all the Great Houses. You shall eat the sin of the unmourned house, and free the false gods. You must defeat the Sixth House, and Dagoth Ur. You must free the Tribunal from their curse. This is the burden of prophecy. This shall be your duty as Urshilaku Nerevarine."

He took me outside, and the crowd had not dispersed, rather they had stayed outside trying to listen in on our conversation, Sul-Matuul and I walked to the center of the crowd, and he motioned for silence as the Tribesman formed a circle around us.

“Before my hearth and kin, and before the People of the Wastes, I name you Urshilaku Nerevarine, War Leader of the Urshilaku, and Protector of the People. In token of this, I give you the Teeth, which shall be a sign to all Dunmer, that you are the Nerevarine, and that the Urshilaku shall follow you, in all things, even unto death, until the Enemy is defeated, or until you are dead, or until you give this back into my hand."

He said aloud as he removed the Ceremonial Amulet from his neck and placed it around mine, I felt an overwhelming feeling of pride in that moment. I felt more then ever like I was Nerevar, this would always be the moment that I remember as the first step I took toward becoming the Nerevarine.

Doubt was replaced with certainty, fear replaced with hope. In the darkest hour of the Dunmer people, MY people, their greatest General had returned to save them, or at least die trying.


I looked over the throngs of the cheering Urshilaku. Memories of what had been paled in comparison to the horrors that were here now. Now is what was important, not Then. And Now, I had to act.

Sul-Matuul and I retired to his yurt, and he pulled out a couple of bottles of Flin. Strange for an Ashlander.

“I have saved these for many years. Perhaps it was a foolish thought at the time, but I thought maybe, before these old bones slept in the earth, Nerevar would come, and I would sit down and drink with him,….or her.” He wistfully thought of Peakstar, I could tell. A woman he no doubt raised as his own daughter. He had likely sent her to her death in the Cavern of the Incarnate. She may have been the very reason that he had sent me to Kogoruhn, he could not bear the pain of losing another to his sworn duty to Azura.

We spoke of the cave for a bit, he showed no signs of his emotions, but listened intently.
As we moved on to more pressing matters, he spoke to me of the Fourth and Fifth Trials.

"The Fourth Trial is to join the three Great Houses of Vvardenfell under one Hortator. You must be named Hortator in turn by House Redoran, House Hlaalu, and House Telvanni. I know little of the ways of the Great Houses. But first I would try the Redoran, for they are warriors, hard-willed, but straightforward. Then I'd try the Hlaalu, for though they are weak and spoiled, they are cunning and crafty. Save the Telvanni for last. Anyone who is not afraid of a 2000-year-old wizard is a fool."

"The khans of the Great Houses are called 'councilors.' The khans of House Hlaalu meet in a place on a river far away. They call the place 'Balmora' -- 'stone wood' in our speech. You must find these councilors and persuade them to name you Hortator. I can tell you nothing about these people. You must go there and learn for yourself."

"The khans of House Redoran meet in a great crab shell in a place called Ald'ruhn. The khans of House Telvanni meet in a very strange place, I'm told. They call it 'Sadrith Mora,' which means 'forest of the mushrooms' in our tongue. I have heard the Telvanni live in giant mushrooms. I'm sure it is a very bad place. But you must go and find their councilors and persuade them to name you Hortator."

He continued, describing something he knew more of, the Fifth Trial, and Uniting the Ashlanders.

"The Fifth Trial is to join the four tribes of the Ashlanders under the Nerevarine. They must put aside pride and tribal squabbles and together face the blighted hosts of Dagoth Ur. The Urshilaku shall name you Nerevarine, but you must concern yourself with the other tribes: the meek Ahemmusa, the wily Zainab, and the war-loving Erabenimsun. They may not be so quick in naming the Nerevarine as the Urshilaku."

"The meek Ahemmusa of the Grazelands are weak in arms, and in a terrible way, driven from their best grazing grounds, and beset by monsters in Ahemmusa camp in the distant northeast. The wise woman of the Ahemmusa, Sinnamu Mirpal, is also their Ashkan. If you can help them with strength of arms, they should welcome you with open arms."

“The wily Zainab of the Grazelands are proud, arrogant, and greedy, and none more than their Ashkan Kaushad. But they are likable rogues, strong and self-assured. Show them you are strong and proud. Satisfy their greed and pride. The Ashlanders of Zainab camp are clever and cunning, and you, too, must be clever and cunning to outwit them."

“The war-loving Erabenimsun of Molag Mar are bad people, badly led. The Ashlanders of Erabenimsun camp are greedy and cruel, and have no respect for Ashlander custom. Ashkan Ulath-Pal is ruthless and arrogant, and he surrounds himself with Gulakhans like himself. Blood will be spilled; let it not be yours. There is one Gulakhan of their tribe, Han-Ammu, who might be shaped as a new Ashkan. He is a weak reed, but his Wise Woman, Manirai, is strong and resourceful. Seek her counsel."

As we continued, he finally told me to leave and be alone with his thoughts, but that I should seek the wisdom of Nibani Maesa, as she may have words that would be of more use to me then an Old Warriors.


Entering her yurt, she had been waiting to speak with me for hours.

“Oh, Child! Or shall I say, Nerevar?” she beamed with a delight.

“I will leave soon Nibani, I may not live to see this through. If these are my last words, let them be words of love, all my life, I have been an outcast, compassion meant next to nothing. And yet, when I came to the Tribe you were at least willing to listen, and I can’t tell you what it really—“ I choked, tears welling in my eyes.

Nibani embraced me, hushing me, and wiped the tears from my eyes.

“Now, now, It wont do to have the Nerevarine bawling like a little child. You must go before the great houses and the tribes, and show them that the time to fight back has come, and as one people. Sleep now, and tomorrow, the sun shall shine on your path.”

I fell into a deep slumber, and thankfully no dreams darkened my sleep.

Journeys beneath the sun and moons served me well to think and reflect. Likely I could have taken a silt strider back to Balmora, but I needed time to consider how the events had changed me, and how I was to change the world around me.

For a week’s time I walked through the Ashlands and the West Gash, passing even Ald’ruhn. The Ashkan had suggested I deal with them first, but I felt that the Hlaalu, being more friendly to the Empire, might at least consider an outlander Hortator.

“I am Nileno Dorvayn. I keep business going here in Balmora while the Hlaalu Councilors are away. Which is most of the time."

I nodded to the Dunmer Woman, curious of there Houses stance, I asked for a little information.

"House Hlaalu has always been loyal to the Emperor. We welcome Imperial law and the legions, and the trade they bring. We still respect the old Dunmer ways, the ancestors, the Temple, and the noble houses. But times change, and we change with the times. We can live in harmony with the other races. And share in the prosperity of the Empire."

"To join House Hlaalu, one must be swift and agile. We value the refined arts of speech and barter. House Hlaalu places exceptional value on property and its protection, and thus the knowledge of security is essential. Although our House avoids violence whenever possible, a Hlaalu must know how to use light armor, short blades, and ranged weapons to provide for the House's security."

"The Hlaalu councilors have conferred upon me the great honor of interviewing those who wish to become members of our illustrious house. Do you want to join House Hlaalu?"

“What do you stand for?” I asked

"The rules of House Hlaalu are simple. You must never interfere with the business of House Hlaalu. Or if you do, be sure you are not caught. If you're never caught stealing from a member of attacking a member, you'll be fine. If you are expelled, you will have to make amends which can be expensive. Are you still interested?"

That was a little too slimy even for an Assassin such as me.

“I don’t think our interests meet in certain areas, areas like honor and common decency.”

Despite the insult she gave me a slimy, knowing grin

"You could do very well in House Hlaalu. If you change your mind, let me know."

“Perhaps, but, in the meantime, I need to speak with the Councilors.”

“You should consult the recent edition of the Yellow Book of Great House Hlaalu. It lists the current Hlaalu councilors and their residences. I can tell you a little more for a little consideration…..” she said looking off to one side rubbing the tips of her fingers together.

Fine if what she wanted was a bribe, at least she was being forward with it, sort of. I pulled out a small sack of coins and handed it over to her.

“Ah yes, just what I wanted! The one you should speak with is Crassus Curio. His manor is in the Hlaalu Plaza in Vivec. Of the Hlaalu Councilors, he is the one most likely to listen to your requests, whatever they may be."

To Vivec it was. This time I did take the Silt Strider, and to the Hlaalu Compound I ran, before a hand tugged on my black shirt.

“Exalted Master! Where have you been?! The Grandmaster has been looking for you for days! You must speak with him right away!” Whispered a plainclothes Dunmer man whom I didn’t recognize.

“You approach me in public like this? Have you no respect for our ways?” I seethed under my breath.

The Morag Tong Agent lowered his head in shame. “Forgive me, but it’s an urgent matter. Follow me.”

I shook my head. “I am here for another reason, I will speak with Eno—The Grandmaster after I have completed my business. Go and tell him, he may be able to see me within the hour.”

He nodded and took off for the Arena Canton, and I continued on into the Plaza. Knocking upon the door, a Heavily armed and armored Dunmer greeted me with a cold stare.

“Yeah?”

“I am here to see Councilor Curio.”

”Ya gotta appointment?”

“Not Exactly.”

“Then hava nice day.”

I considered grabbing the Mers throat, but an effeminate voice called from the background saving his life.

“Stop being rude to our guests! Show in the Dunmer!”

"Yes, I'm Crassius Curio, but you can call me Uncle Crassius." Said the heavyset middle-aged Imperial, smoking a hackle-lo leaf.

“An honor to make your acquaintance Councilor, I have a most urgent need to speak with you. I do not know how to even ask such a thing…”

”I said call me Uncle Crassius. Um..” he said extending a limp hand.

“Sethyas Velas.”

“Sera Velas! You have the grip of a Corprus Beast!” he exclaimed excitedly.

I was beginning to get very nervous around the Hlaalu Noble. And I began to ask him of the Hortator.

He stopped and paused, his hackle lo between his fingers. “Oh.” He said disappointedly.

“A Hortator is a Great House war leader. It's an ancient tradition, seldom invoked in modern times."

"As far as I recall, every one of Hlaalu's councilors must vote to choose a Hortator, and the vote must be unanimous. There must be some situation requiring a war leader, of course, and a worthy candidate who can perform a Hortator's duty."

"A Hortator is chosen by consensus. Everyone has to agree. A single 'no' is a veto. First a Great House has to choose a Hortator. Then that Hortator has to go persuade the other Great Houses to agree to name him Hortator of their houses, too. A very difficult system. No Great House wants to give the honor to a member of another Great House. But luckily, it's mostly honorary, and doesn't cost a House anything. So it might not be that bad, after all."

"A Hortator is a champion who leads by inspiration. He challenges opposing heroes in single combat. He goes on long, desperate quests. He goes alone into the citadels of the enemy. He confronts the dangers no one else in the House is strong enough... or courageous enough... to face." He said with a fanciful gaze to the air.

I began to tell him my story. Excluding parts of the Blades and the Morag Tong, I showed him the Moon-and-Star. I told him of the Three Trials, of Azura’s Visions, of the Nerevarine Prophecies. All to which he listened intently.

“You want to be Hortator? A pity. Orvas Dren does NOT want you to be Hortator. And very few councilors would be willing to risk Ser Dren's disapproval. But your eloquent passion, your exquisite vulnerability moves me to risk all, and defy Orvas Dren. Yes, sweetie, I will name you Hortator. But I have something to ask of you..."

“Yes?”

”Will you give me,…a kiss?”

Dear Reader, please do not judge me too harshly. I did what I did for the good of Morrowind.

"How tender and thoughtful! You've made me the happiest fellow in Vivec. And now, pumpkin, it's time for YOUR gift... And I have just what you want. In my formal capacity as Councilor of House Hlaalu, I give you my vote for the title of Hortator. Perhaps I can also give you a little suggestion?"

“Umm…please?”

"I am sure you can persuade Dram Bero to support you as Hortator... if you can find him. Orvas Dren has Nevena Ules and Velanda Omani in his pocket. You might want to make a little trip to the Dren Plantation before talking to them. And then there's Yngling Half-Troll."

"I am sure he will support you if you can find him and state your case. Alas, Dram Bero is very secretive and no one seems to know where he lives. Ask around Vivec, dumpling, perhaps someone can tell you."

"Yngling Half-Troll is a foreigner like me, but he simply doesn't understand the Dunmer like I do. If you were to dispose of him, the other councilors would not be upset. If you kill any of the rest of us, of course, it is a different story. He lives in Yngling Manor in the St. Olm´s Canton."


"But your largest challenge, will be Orvas Dren. He is the head of the Camonna Tong and lives in a plantation in the Ascadian Isles. You may be able to bribe him or trick him. He despises the Empire, and I have heard rumors that he has made some kind of deal with the Sixth House."

I blinked. Dren? Don’t tell me…..

“Well, I thank you for your vote Councilor, I really must be going.” I said as I ran as fast as I could out of the Manor, afraid of any further….well, just afraid.

I caught my breath outside of the Hlaalu Canton, and decided to take a Gondola to the Arena, rather then walk. I had managed to convince at least one Councilor to vote for me as a Hortator of at least one house. But Crassius Curio seemed to be; a strange one to put it politely. I didn’t know what to make of him, or his advice. Regardless, I had to speak with Ilmeni soon, and Eno had also summoned me, I was being tugged in many directions.

“Sethyas! I had thought you were dead! It is good to see you. However, business, not the pleasure calls you too me today. There has been a high-profile Writ issued against Ranes and Navil Ienith, two Camonna Tong Assassins, Orvas Dren’s men. Not only has the Duke himself commissioned the writ, he has personally requested…you.” The Grandmaster told me.

I was stunned, I had never met the Duke. I thought of Ilmeni. Had she spoken to her Father of me? She knew I was in the Morag Tong. But little else about me. It was dangerous for her to assume that she could divulge such information openly.

But this was an opportunity unlike any I could have expected, the Writ gave me supreme and total legal authority to enter the Dren Plantation, but the Morag Tong edicts prevented me from openly killing anyone but the Ienith Brothers. Unless it was self-defense.

“I shall accept the Writ, Grandmaster. However, I will not lie, this matter also involves personal business, and I cannot promise that the two shall not interfere with the other.”

Eno gave me a look of extreme annoyance, to hear this from his right-hand Mer and successor to the Morag Tong was not pleasing in the least.

“You will explain this business to me now, Velas. Were you anyone else, I would kill you where you stand. The Morag exists to this day because of our laws, and because of our ability to separate of affairs from the affairs of Mephala…” he growled.

For an hour I told him of the Nerevarine Prophecies, of the Three Trials, and of the Fourth. I told him of what Crassius Curio had told me, I told him of the lies of the Temple, and I showed him the Moon-and-Star.

Eno showed no expression, merely taking it all in. Thinking to himself for several minutes before looking up at me.

“Your story. It is….incredible…..the Ashlander Legends, the Return of Nerevar…all true. And to think, you, outlander Assassin, returned to face the Sixth House, and destroy Dagoth Ur. I-I am not sure what to say, or even if I should believe you. But I do Sethyas, I have always seen something in you. Nerevar is an Assassin? Surely, Azura and Mephala have both blessed you! Nerevar Reborn is within the Exalted ranks of the Morag Tong?” Eno stammered.

“Yes, you may pursue your title of the Hortator of House Hlaalu with Orvas Dren. Should he deny you, make sure his death is Honorable. Only in extreme circumstances may the laws of the Tong be lifted, and these are extreme circumstances, Nerevar.” Eno acknowledged, grasping my shoulder and looking reverently into my eyes. Rarely did my Master show emotion, but these were rare times.

In my apartment in Saint Delyn, I repaired my weapons and armor. Putting on my Morag Tong Robes, and Black Gloves, I wore the Dark Brotherhood Armor beneath the Wine-Red garb to allay suspicions that I was going there to perform an assassination. Regardless, I had one last person to speak to. The one I should have spoken to right away, Ilmeni Dren, the woman that I love.

Her eyes were delighted to see me, and her embrace brought the sweet smell of stone flower petals to my nostrils. Somehow between kisses I told her of my return to Vivec, and then she finally sat down and listened to all that had transpired. And I asked her of her father’s writ.

“Yes, I spoke to him of you, he is not pleased that his daughter would see someone of low birth, and an outlander. But I have always been rebellious to him, and he thinks that this is just another phase.”

”Did you tell him I was in the Tong?”

“No. But it’s not unlikely that he has the resources to find out what your background is, after all, he IS the Duke.,”

“He personally requested me in the performing of a writ. I’m going to your Uncle’s Farm to kill two of his men, Ilmeni. Is your Father trying to have me killed?”

She took the writ, and recognized the names, her eyes growing wide with fear and disbelief.

“No. Not with these two. If he requested you, then it’s because he wants THEM dead. I don’t know what my Father uncovered, but you must have impressed him…” she said looking up at me, handing me back the writ.

“It may also come to pass that Orvas Dren may die this night as well, Ilmeni. There is another need I have in going there.”

She looked exasperated, if there was one thing I constantly did with her was hide the truth, kept secrets that were unbelievable. And then spilled them forth like a tidal wave upon her mind. It was a lot to ask of her, and her reaction was understandable.

“That’s it! I’ve had it with you! First you’re an Assassin! Then you’re Nerevar Reborn? And your going to kill a family member in the name of becoming a War Leader? GET OUT OF HERE!!!” she screamed.
I was prepared to take innocent life. But not prepared to deal with a Woman enraged.

“But,. I” I said weakly.

“Just, get out…..” she said quietly, her mental and emotion tolerances for my constant changing worn thin.

I walked away, not knowing what to say, I was not sure what had just happened. But there was work to do. And I made my way north to the southern shored of Lake Amaya, to the Dren Plantation.

The Dren Plantation. Headquarters to the largest criminal syndicate within Morrowind borders. Walls the size of three men aligned every corner of the farm. Indeed it was more of a military stronghold then a plantation. Heavily armored and armed guards patrolled every corner of the farm.

From a perched position next too a pillar, dressed in my Dark Brotherhood Armor, in the early hours of the evening I took in guard movements, slaves working in the Saltrice fields, even noting small boats coming and going through a dock in Lake Amaya. It was an impressive operation, to say the least. No wonder the Thieves Guild was up to its neck in a turf war.

However, I still needed to speak to Orvas Dren, and kill his two main men. No easy task, however, should I manage to,….eliminate him, it might be enough of a message to let any other councilors know who they were dealing with, I am no bully, and rarely would I ever resort to intimidation, but this was not the time for petty squabbling, it was time to unite the houses.

I jumped off the wall, and landed silently into the grassy plains of the farm, I crept through the path of shadows that was lent to me by several plants and shacks, constantly monitoring the guard’s patrols. Creeping into the Villa that was kept watch over by a red-haired Dunmer wearing Dwemer Armor, I cracked open the door and moved to a hidden position inside.

A pair of ebony boots made a loud thumping sound, as yet another Dunmer guard patrolled the hallways of Dren’s Villa. He swung around a Daedric Shield with a Daedric Katana sheathed to his belt. He wore no shirt or torso armor at all, as if to say “I’m tougher then you and I know it.’ I was inclined to believe him, as I doubt that I would survive had I gone toe-to-toe with him in combat.

But that is the nice thing about being an Assassin, you rarely fight, you kill. You look for weaknesses in your prey, and you exploit them to there full advantage. My advantage was that the Mer was arrogant in his skill with a shield and sword, to the point where his most vulnerable kill spots were completely exposed. Even an amateur assassin couldn’t botch this one up.

At his next interval, as he walked past me, not noticing me approaching behind him, my silent feet effortlessly glided over the stone floor, and in a variation of a chokehold, I quickly wrapped my left arm around his face, the crook of my elbow clamping down over his mouth, meanwhile my right hand had Mehrunes Razor, and I quickly brought the tip of the dagger to the base of his skull, where the head meets the neck, severing the spinal cord, bringing instant paralysis to his body, death following seconds later.

I quietly lay his body down, and I slipped my fingers down his face, closing his eyes, the look of surprise still molded into his features. I then began to search his body, while his weapons and armor were certainly worth a fortune, I was not here to steal from the dead, and rather I took a key that he had to make for quicker access to the rest of the Villa.

I took careful examination of my surroundings, and concluded that the Ienith brothers were more likely down in the basement then in the upper floors of the estate. Coming to a door, I was glad I had grabbed the key, as I doubt that I could have picked this lock in short enough time to not make the inevitable clicking noises that accompany the security art.

My face winced as the key disarmed a trap with an audible click, and I looked down an empty hallway, and skulked to another heavily locked door, unlocking this one again, I slowly looked in, and standing with his back to me a Mer in dark clothing said out loud:
“Welcome, we’ve been expecting you.”

My hand instinctively went to my Katana’s hilt, as I felt a dagger thrust its way through my armor into my flesh, followed by a force that I had cast many times before. Every limb of my body grew rigid, I was unable to move, and a damn Jinkblade had me paralyzed, following the deep raspy voice of a Dunmer mocking me in my ear:

”Die like a Dog!”

They took turns stabbing me for what seemed like an eternity, but what was only a few seconds. I fell to the ground mortally wounded, and they stood over me staring with malevolent eyes as my life and blood flowed away.

They began to laugh as I feebly reached underneath my cuirass for a scroll that I had found and kept for a last resort from one of my many ventures into the bandit caves that honeycombed Vvardenfell.

One of the brothers kicked the scroll out of my hand, and straddled me to finish the job, his dagger coming dangerously close to my neck, I looked over at the scroll, and saw that it had unrolled with the effort of the kick, and as the dagger began to plunge its way into my flesh once more, I meekly and weakly read the incantation, the words barely forming in my mouth, coming out as nothing more than air being forced out of my lips.

Then the scroll disappeared in a flash of yellow magicka, the two Assassins not taking any notice, continuing to look down at what they assumed to be my dead form. Suddenly, a metallic sound of unknown origin came from behind them, and their eyes grew wide with fear as they beheld the terrible beauty of the gilded Daedra.

The Glass Halberd of the Golden Saint came crashing down into the skull of one of the brothers, the furious Valkyrie lifted his body into the air, as the other Dunmer struck at her with his Jinkblade, the enchantment bounced harmlessly off of her and now held the Assassin in place.

She seemed to take a particular delight in throwing the other body across the room, and taking apart the unlucky paralysis victim limb by limb, a pile of bloody stumps lying where he once stood.

And just as suddenly, she disappeared in a flash of yellow light, her venture into Mundus gratefully over.

I rested for a few minutes, expecting Dren to come in at any minute and finish the job. I thought of Ilmeni, and how I would have changed everything from the beginning, and would have told her the truth, and how I would have told Setsuna the truth, hopefully saving her life, but now, maybe I would see her soon enough. It was easy to lie down and die.

No.

Not now, someday, but not now.

I pulled out a restorative, and drank greedily, the liquid flowing through my body with a ravishing delight, pain subsided, and deep wounds from the Ienith brothers’ daggers closed up. I was still woozy, but I could stand up.

I wondered as to why no one else had seemed to have been alerted, but I realized that the stone floor between the brother’s rooms and the upper floor was thick, and in spite of everything, only a few minutes had passed. I took careful note of the room, stripping the Ieniths’ of their daggers, and began going through the closets and chests, looking for something, maybe something that could incriminate Orvas Dren.

After coming across nearly ten thousand in gold drakes, which I was more then willing to add to my coffers for my coming challenges, I found a note that made me smile in triumph.

Ranes and Navil,

You have served me well over the years. My brother has been trying to stop our business. We've lost over half our shipments recently. The Duke may be my brother, but if he keeps interfering I am afraid he must be killed. I will be next in line and can consolidate my power before the Redorans even come up with a candidate. I am telling you this so that you know the risks you may be taking. If you are unwilling, I will accept your word of honor not to speak of our business. If you stay, I will reward you.

~D

I walked to the upper levels of the Villa, and dressed in a full set of Orcish Armor, practicing with an Ebony Spear on a training dummy, stood the infamous Orvas Dren.

He removed the helm to reveal a surprisingly thoughtful looking face, he grabbed a cloth and wiped the sweat from his face as he took in my apparel, sans the mask.

He lit up a Hackle-Lo to revive his fatigue from his spear play, and then gave me the predatory look of the lands top crime boss.

“I assume you have a good reason to risk a very slow and painful demise to approach me without proper invitation, outlander?”

“Yes. I want to be Hortator of House Hlaalu, and I hear that will not happen without your approval.” I stated bluntly.

He choked on the smoke in laughter.

“Well, you’ve earned at least a few more minutes of life for your humor, now tell me the real reason you’re here.”

I showed him the Moon-and-Star, and told him my name and story. Unlike many, he actually believed me. He believed me very easily.

“So…Dagoth Ur was right. You have returned, Nerevar. So you want to be Hortator of House Hlaalu. And you've come to me. You show unusual wisdom for an outlander. But what's the title of Hortator worth to you? What will you do with the title?”

I had to think carefully, he was testing me. Though I did not doubt my ability to kill him, it would have been an easy path. He was the leader of the Camonna Tong, and had quite a bit more influence and power than most, if he could be manipulated into my corner, he would prove to be an invaluable ally. Though many would love to see him dead, there was a reason he was still alive, it would be easy to call him evil, I too was once a bandit, after all.

“I will lead the Dunmeri forces first against Dagoth Ur, and then, I will drive the Empire from Morrowind. It will be war and cleansing not seen since the Battle of Red Mountain, whom then could deny that Nerevar has returned?” I stated in my most sincere tone.

His eyes glinted with delight.

"I have long believed it was a mistake to turn from the old gods. Perhaps Azura is with you after all. And perhaps not. I will tell you that I've spoken with Dagoth Ur. He promised me the same thing. That he will drive the foreigners from our lands. But I am not one to ignore opportunity, nor am I one to be troubled by rubbing two sides of a coin. If you are a Dunmer of your word, I am your ally. I will tell Velanda Omani and Nevena Ules to support you as Hortator of House Hlaalu."

And that was that. The Camonna Tong, which really controlled House Hlaalu was on my side, at least for the time being, it was an alliance of convenience at best, and held together by tenuous threads that could easily snapped by the slightest move that went wrong. I wasn’t sure exactly what I had gotten myself into, but I knew I had to tread carefully, at the very least; this would give me some insights into the Tong that could show some vital weak points later on. Besides, Dren was about to discover that I had just executed three of his men, including his personal bodyguard. I had to quickly bring together the other votes of the Councilors to ensure that Orvas Dren’s influence wouldn’t be quickly taken away.

Suran was a quick walk to the east, and from the distance I could see two Dunmer thugs exiting Ules Manor. Dren was the efficient type, I’ll give him that.

Knocking on the door, a very frightened looking Dunmer Maiden wearing exquisite clothing opened the door, rather than her servants whom sat around a guard tending to a bloody nose.

“Greetings, I am here to speak with Mistress Ules.”

“Whom calls upon her?”

“Sethyas Velas.”

"Oh. Oh. Yes. Yes, Ser Sethyas Velas. The Hortator thing, right? They said, if I knew what was good for me, I would do as you asked. So. You want to be a Hortator? I make you a Hortator. I vote for you. That's all I have to do, right? Once all the councilors agree, make sure you see Crassius Curio."

That was easy. And so was my visit to Omani Manor on Elmas Island, east of Vivec.

“Yes. Of course. You wished to be named Hortator of House Hlaalu? No sooner said than done. You will, of course, need to receive confirmation from the other Hlaalu councilors. But I have every confidence in your ability to persuade them. Once all the councilors agree, speak with Crassius Curio again. He will give you the Belt of the Hortator." Velanda said with a fearful tone.

So that left two challenges, Dram Bero, and Yngling Half-Troll. Thankfully, I was close enough to Vivec to seek out Dram Bero first, as he was rumored to be….reclusive.

“Dram Bero? I think I’ve seen him in the Saint Olm´s Plaza before.” Said a passerby in the Foreign Quarter.

I thanked the man, and took off for the Canton, searching the plaza for anything that may lead me to him, but too no avail. The Councilor had covered his tracks well; Dram Bero did not want to be found, pure and simple.

In frustration, I retired to the Flowers of Gold Corner club, and sipped a Flin, as I thought whether I should forge a document with his name confirming me as Hortator. The look on my face must have prompted the Publican to ask me what was wrong.

“Nothing really…just having trouble trying to find a friend.” I said with a dry smile.

“Well, I see lots of people, maybe they passed by here? What does the person look like?”

“I have no idea, I’m looking for Dram Bero.”

“Ser Bero? No one knows where he lives….but…” she said her voice trailing off. I knew a bribe opportunity when I saw one, and slipped a small sack of coins across the counter too her.

She made the sack disappear behind the bar, and examined the contents, with a small smile she looked at me. “This may mean nothing. But there’s a Manor in the Plaza of Saint Olm´s that is rumored to be haunted, thing is, the rumors started around the same time that Dram Bero was seen around Vivec. Way I see it; it would be the perfect place to lay low if you know what I mean.”

I gulped down the rest of my drink, and thanked her as I ran off too the Canton once more. Finding the ‘Haunted’ Manor was easy enough as I approached a dilapidated entrance, the door was unlocked, and the inside was dark and the furniture covered in dirt, soot, and spider webs. At the same time, an unlocked door into such a sight seemed designed to fabricate an assumption that no one lived here. Normally when a place was on the market, the entrance was tightly locked, moreso then usual as thieves and bandits knew that no one was home. It bore further investigation.

And the investigation led me to a heavily locked door in the second floor of the Manor. This was all the evidence I needed that at the very least, someone or something was in here, picking the lock was tricky, but I managed, and I entered into a lavish floor, with candles, rugs, furniture, and all the amenities that one might expect of a Noble.

Suddenly, a shirtless Nord blindsided me with a tackle, and we both fell to the ground in a struggle of dominance, however, my strength was augmented by my brush with corprus disease, and it ended with me holding his arm with a painful lock.

“Dram Bero!” I called out. “I’m not here to harm you Serjo! Please come and speak with me as a Noble should greet his guests!”

There was a few more seconds of silence and the Nord whimpering in pain.

“If I really wanted to kill you, you’d be dead by now.” I added. The air seemed to change in a moment of consideration, and then an elegantly dressed Dunmer Man came out and saw me holding his bodyguard, and then spoke.

“Well, I take precautions to ensure that I am not found easily... I see I will have to take more precautions. But what can I do for you?" he said with a hint of amusement to his tone.

I let the guard go, and he scampered off holding his arm.

“I assume you’ve heard the name ‘Sethyas Velas’ recently Serjo?” I asked Dram.

“I have. You’re the one who wishes to be named ‘Hortator’. You’re also the one whom claims to be Nerevar Reborn. Whether this is true or not, remains to be seen. I also may assume you’ve come seeking my vote?”

“I have.”

“You have found me, and that means you are resourceful. Yes, I will vote for you as Hortator. But my vote alone means nothing. Yngling is a fool. You may bribe him or kill him. Preferably kill him.”

“That remains to be seen, but why are you all so aligned against Yngling? Even Crassius has….mentioned the alternative.”

Dram’s face took on a look of annoyance. “I won’t lie when I say that Hlaalu are a bunch of greedy fetchers, but we’re merchants, we bring a sense of elegance, a touch of class. Yngling is neither of these things. There are rumors that he even has scammed the Temple. THE TEMPLE! I may be a bit of an Imperial, but even I believe in leaving some things as sacred.”

I appreciated his honesty, though I wondered why he didn’t just take out a writ, or challenge him. Perhaps they did not even consider him worth the gold or sweat.

My business completed, I left the Haunted Manor, and walked on over to Yngling’s Manor, knocking on the door, an Orc female guard greeted me and brought me before the final Councilor.

Yngling was a loudmouth, brutish Nord of a man, he literally reeked of Barbarian, and looked as though someone had plucked him right out of Skyrim, and put him in some Fine garments without giving him a shave or a decent bath.

“What’s your story? And keep it short, I gotta be in Balmora by tomorrow afternoon, ya know, Council Business. Things that are ACTUALLY important.” He sneered at me.

I could feel the slime from his words oozing down my spine. Dram Bero had been right, this man had no elegance or class.

I told him of my story, and asked to be confirmed as Hortator.

“That’s a touching Story, but unless you got 2000 drakes, you won’t get my vote.” He said after thinking for a moment.

I could easily have paid the Nord. But the alternative was looking more appealing by the minute

“The title isn’t worth that much to me, I am sorry to have wasted your time Serjo Half-Troll” I said walking away.

He grunted hostilely and slammed his office door behind me. Yes, the alternative was looking very appealing.

I gotta be in Balmora by tomorrow afternoon, Council Business.

I ran the whole night to Balmora, arriving in the early morning hours. I staked out the entrance to the Council Hall doors. If Half-Troll was coming, he would walk through here. I looked around at various rooftops, none were right for the job.

Then I looked at the Guard Tower, it towered over every manor and shop in Balmora, affording a decent view of the whole town, it was perfect on so many levels.

I picked the lock to the entrance, and sneaked my way past some off-duty Hlaalu guards, sitting around drinking after their shift; I walked up the curving stairs and quietly ascended to the trap door leading to the roof.

I looked around, and could se the tops of the roofs of the Council, the Manors below, and no one seemed to see me. I did some mental calculations, and I realized that the sun would be directly behind me by the afternoon, meaning if anyone looked up at the tower, they would be blinded by the sun.

My Trap was set, and for hours I waited looking at every passerby, waiting for Yngling. Patience is perhaps the greatest asset to an Assassin. And finally, around five o’clock, I saw the Nord walking up the stairs surrounded by his guards. He was unmistakable with his loud bellowing laugh, and rolling gait.

I pulled out my Bonemold Long Bow, and slid out a poisoned tip silver arrow. The nock of the arrow fit in the string without quarrel, my left hand gripped the bow tighter as my right hand pulled the arrow back as far as it could go for maximum penetration. The shaft of the bow creaked as the potential energy built up, my perception of time slowed, and each footstep of Yngling’s took longer.

Finally, when my aim was perfect, the tip of the arrow and Yngling’s heart were as one, and my fingers loosened their hold on the tail of the arrow, and a sharp whistle filled the air, followed by a deathly silence.

Yngling Half-Troll collapsed on the stairs leading up to the courtyard before the Hlaalu Council Manor, a black shaft of a silver arrow was visible from his chest, and his gaze was lifted to the skies that had claimed his life, his expression damning the unknown force that had taken the only thing he ever cared about, his own life.

An alarm was raised, and both Yngling’s guards, and the Hlaalu guards began to run frantically looking for the unseen assailant, the local rooftops of the manors and the shops were searched for an archer, but to no avail. Any gazes that were affixed to the top of the two guard towers were shunned in the burning brilliance of the setting afternoon sun.

I used the Ring of Khajiit to become invisible, and jumped off the side of the building, and I landed with a loud grunt on the top of Dorisa Darvels Bookshop. I jumped off again in to a side alley, and adorned myself with a common brown robe, and unstrung my bow, and hid it underneath the folds of my robe, I put my hood on over my head, and walked out into the running citizens, blending in as a commoner, and calmly began to walk to the cities exit before there was a lockdown, and I was soon walking the road back to Vivec.


Later in that evening, I was treated as royalty in Curio Manor.

“I hear that Councilor Half-Troll was assassinated this afternoon in Balmora Sera Velas….not that YOU would know anything about that.” Said Crassius Curio smiling.

I smiled back, despite my uneasiness about the man. “Not at all, incidentally you may wish to take this Bow as a keepsake…not that I’ve done anything with it mind you….”

Crassius grinned. "How tender and thoughtful! You've made me the happiest fellow in Vivec. And now, pumpkin, it's time for YOUR gift... And I have just what you want. In my formal capacity as Councilor of House Hlaalu, I give you my vote for the title of Hortator. And since all the councilors agree, here's the Belt of the Hortator. Just snug it around that supple little waist, and don't forget Uncle Crassius, your lonely admirer."
He said as he put a ceremonial belt around my waist, feeling my abs a little too close for comfort…..

“Well…I guess that’s One House Down, and two to go…can you give me any advice on dealings with the other houses? Whom should I talk to first?”

He thought for a moment.

"With House Redoran, you should talk with Athyn Sarethi first. He's always been fair with me. You can find him under the crab shell in Ald'ruhn. The Telvanni…oh dear, the Telvanni…Master Aryon in Tel Vos is the one most open to new ideas. He may give you some advice."

I thanked the Councilor, and left the Manor, considering my next move.

I figured I would deal with the Warrior House Next, the Redoran were at least honorable, or at least were reputed to be. Wherever there are people, there are politics. Besides, Nibani Maesa had warned me from her dreams to beware the one whom had power and would hold it by any means necessary.

I walked through the domed beige houses and ash-laden streets of Ald´ruhn, taking in the peculiar beauty of the trama shrubs blending in with the Ashlands. Much like Balmora, there were merchants haggling with commoners, and guards making sure that no crime was taking place, at least not of the visible variety.

The Giant Crab Shell of The Manor District was the dominating feature of the city however, and it beckoned me to enter and take the next step on my path, I obliged the call.

Sarethi Manor was haunted with a sadness that I could not fathom. Even just knocking on the door, I could sense that the echoes sounded into an abyss of longing. A Dunmer Woman answered the door, faint lines of aging fit in with a sad expression as she greeted me.

“Good Day. How can I help you?”

”I am here to call upon Serjo Athyn Sarethi, I have business that he may help me with.”

She looked perplexed. “Are you here about Varvur?”

“Varvur? No Madame. It’s a matter perhaps best left between me and Serjo Sarethi, I mean no offense, only that it is a bit sensitive.”

She became annoyed. “My husband has no time for such trivialities! Be gone with you, you little whelp!”

I was shocked as she slammed the door in my face, and knitted my brows in thought. He evidently wasn’t seeing any one. I started to walk away, and then heard the door click open once more.

“Muthsera, please forgive her outburst! Please, come inside.” Called out an aged Dunmer in a dark red robe. His face too, was lined with aging; his long hair in an elegant style had shocks of grey through it. I walked back, and extended a hand, and introduced myself.

“I am Athyn Sarethi, please come into my home. My wife is under tremendous pressure at the moment Sera Velas, I ask that you extend her your pardons.”

“Of course. This is likely not the right time to ask of you what I have come to ask however. If there is a better time that I may return to you and seek your counsel?”

Athyn shrugged with a gentle manner that pervaded every motion and manner. He exuded an honorable man with a reverence for others and life that I envied.

“To be honest, now is as good a time as any. I don’t think that mood will change much around here anytime soon; say what you have come to say.” He said with a calm tone.

I sighed. This wasn’t getting any easier, and now I had to trouble this poor Mer with my own problems, I had little other choice then to ask him help me unite his House under my banner as Nerevarine against the Sixth House. So I carefully told him of my past, and my adventures so far in Vvardenfell, of the cave of the incarnate, and the Moon-and-Star.

He sat and carefully took everything in, examining my ring, and nodding to himself.

“You have told me a remarkable story, it has a ring of truth to it. You may have been deceived, but I believe you. House Hlaalu supporting you also speaks well of your abilities, but there is an obstacle with House Redoran, Sethyas. His name is Bolvyn Venim, the Archmaster will never allow you to become Hortator, and he will never allow the armies of House Redoran under the command of an outlander. I’m sorry that you’ve come all this way only to be stopped in your tracks. I admire your selflessness in this matter, you have experienced great losses since you have come here, and yet you persist against Dagoth Ur. You show unusual character for one so young.”

“There is no way? B-But….what if Venim could be convinced? Surely he could see the need?”

”Try if you do not believe me, your story contradicts the teachings of the Temple, and most Redorans would kill you if they did not consider it dishonorable. You’ve entered a difficult place; even I am having difficulty separating what I know, with what I feel. You realize how it sounds that an outlander has come to claim that he is our greatest hero reborn?”

”Painfully so, it is why I did not wish to disturb you.”

“Yes, I realized that….there may be an alternative.”

“I’m listening.” I said with an open tone.

“It would involve you joining House Redoran. But this is no simple matter, Sethyas, you will become part of the house, starting at the bottom rung, performing menial tasks, you will not be allowed to join any other house. You will be bound for life, for you will become of our blood. You will be bound by our laws and honor, but all this you must do before House Redoran would even consider making you Hortator, you must show that you can be relied upon, you must earn the trust of the other councilors, and mine as well.”

I thought about it. It was a huge, life-altering step.

“I need time to think about it.”

”Yes, you do. This is not an idle decision Sethyas, I would not accept a thoughtless ‘yes’ in any case.”

“There is one other thing you should know, Serjo Sarethi.”

“That is?” he said his wizened face perking up.

“This is not information I part with readily, and I must bound you upon your honor not to reveal this to anyone.”

“Very well. I swear upon my house and my family name, that I shall never in any circumstance reveal what you are about to tell me.” Athyn said with absolute sincerity.

“I am a Member of the Morag Tong. As a matter of fact, I am an Exalted Master, successor to the Grandmaster. I am an Assassin by trade, and I have taken lives for Mephala before, I have even killed Redorans, I have killed for profit, for glory, and for revenge.” I said showing him a signet ring of the Tong.

He seemed taken aback for a second, but he smiled slowly.

“The fact that you are a member of one our most traditional societies is actually a benefit to your story, this shows that you understand our ways, and that you have honor. Quite a bit if you are the next Grandmaster as you say, do not worry Ser Velas, this will not hinder you in the House, should you join, in any way. If anything it will help you. Do not fret for the lives of the Redoran you may have taken, writs are sacred and honorable.”

I nodded, and retired to the Rat in the Pot for the evening, I needed to sleep on everything that he had told me.

I awoke.

Light streamed in through my cramped quarters window, and I longed to be in Vivec, lying in Ilmeni’s arms. It seemed that destiny had a harsher reality in store for me. No matter what I did, I was always alone.

Setsuna, dead. Caius, gone. Ilmeni, I didn’t know if we were still together.

I sat for a long time thinking on all the events that had preceded this morning, and now I was faced with yet another decision, join House Redoran or fail in the prophecy of the Nerevarine.

I wondered whether or not I should even have cared, having this duty thrust upon me because I didn’t die when I wore this cursed ring? Was Azura merely seeking revenge, or did she genuinely care for the Dunmer People. As the Dagoths had mocked me in Kogoruhn had said: “Do you even know why you’re doing Azura’s bidding? Are you in the habit of trusting Daedra Lords? Have you forgotten what scheming fiends the Daedra are?”

I opened up a book that Serjo Sarethi had given me to learn of House Redoran and their ways to help me decide if joining would be the right thing.

The True Noble's Code; by Serjo Athyn Sarethi

The honorable warriors of the Great House Redoran are the hereditary defenders of the Morrowind. To be a noble of House Redoran is more than being a great warrior. One must follow the triune virtues of duty, gravity, and piety.

A Redoran's duty is first to the Tribunal Temple, second to the Great House Redoran, and third to one's family and clan. In the Battle of Red Mountain, warriors of House Redoran died bravely for their duty to the Tribunal. By defending House Redoran from the schemes of Telvanni wizards and the lies of untrustworthy Hlaalu, the true noble shows duty to House Redoran. Following the Temple's guidelines of mercy and generosity show duty to one's family and clan.

A Redoran noble must know the virtue of gravity. It is not the Redoran way to laugh at serious matters, for it shows disrespect. It is not the Redoran way to spread rumors, for they fester and breed dissention.

A Redoran must show piety to the Aedra and Daedra, our creators and ancestors. For without the divine, we would not have the chance to serve. And without divine law, we would not know right from wrong. And without giving thanks for these things, we would forget out place and our purpose.

Great House Redoran praises all the skills of war. Not because we believe war is good or honorable in its own right, but because this knowledge is necessary to perform one's duty. House Redoran's warriors fight with a long blade and a shield or with a spear. A noble of House Redoran must also learn to use a bow and must be athletic enough for the long marches to battle. A Redoran wears heavy or medium armor depending on rank and strategy. A noble of House Redoran is expected to know how to repair and maintain his own armor.

Those who are born to House Redoran have been taught their skill and virtues by kin and clan. Those who seek to enter House Redoran as retainers must satisfy an examiner in the Redoran Council Hall that their skills are suitable for service to House Redoran.

Whether born to the blood of House Redoran, or adopted into service of House Redoran by oath, those who seek to advance in the ranks of House Redoran must demonstrate their virtues by service and obedience. And only when one has mastered all the skills and virtues can one truly call himself a noble of the Great House Redoran.

It was heavy stuff, I could certainly use a long blade, I had plenty of practice with my Daedric Katana, and I had been running all over this Island for months now, so I wasn’t scared of their athletics requirement, and when it came to shooting a bow, I could probably teach them a thing or two.

Armor was another story. I relied on light armor to keep swift and agile, and not be weighed down by a tin suit. If the need came up, I would learn medium armor.

I thought of their ways of duty, gravity and piety, about their first duty being to the Temple. I could not and would not submit myself to the false gods. But Athyn knew that, and more importantly, knew why.

As for not laughing at serious matters, I was trying to unite the Dunmer against the Sixth House and eventually face Dagoth Ur himself, and I wasn’t laughing.

I breathed in deeply.

I exhaled.

I would do it.

I would join Great House Redoran, even though our ways were somewhat split; I would join the clan, and hopefully lead them against the armies of Dagoth Ur.

I bathed and put on the best clothing I could find, a vested Red Imperial style shirt, and a pair of black slacks, I adorned my back with my bow and arrows, and wrapped on my sword belt and sheathed my Daedric Katana to my hip, if I was going to join a warrior house, I would at least look the part.

I knocked on Serjo Sarethi´s door once more, and within a minute I was inside, with him looking me over.
“I sense you have reached your decision, but I warn you once more. It is for life.”

“I may not yet draw breath before this years end, it matters only that I do what needs to be done. I shall join House Redoran, and with your help Serjo, I shall lead the armies of the Dunmer against Dagoth Ur.”

He smiled slightly as he nodded in approval. “Spoken like a true Redoran, I see potential in you, Sethyas. I pray that my eyes do not deceive me.”

“As do I, Serjo, as do I. How shall we begin this?”

“Firstly, before you are a member of House Redoran, and bound to our laws, I would ask you a small favor in exchange for my sponsorship.”

I thought the statement strange, as Athyn did not seem the type of man to ask something selfish in even the slightest terms, not that I was unwilling, however, but as he made his request, I realized that his request was not selfish in the least; he was simply being a loving father.

“Rescue my son, Varvur Sarethi from Venim Manor.”

“Varvur? That was the name your wife….”

”Yes, you understand now why we are so…..please. You are an Assassin, and sneaking in should not be a problem for you, I don’t wish for you too take the lives of any of my kinsman, but should you be forced to, then since you are not a member of the house, you will not be dishonored, though I dishonor myself by asking this of you….but I can’t lose another child, I won’t.”

“You show no dishonor, Serjo. But why is he there?”

“The Archmaster claims that he murdered Bralen Carvaren, though I don’t believe my son is capable of such an act. But unless I am able to talk to him, I will be unable to see what he knows, and use the information to prove that he is innocent.”

I nodded. It was a reasonable request at the very least. Perhaps it was more of a ploy on Bolvyn Venim´s part to control Athyn Sarethi. In any event, I had a Noble’s son to rescue.

I thought I hated Nobles? Perhaps Serjo Sarethi was the exception to the rule.

Through the catwalks that lined through the massive interior of the crab shell I walked, silently I approached the front door to Venim Manor, in spite of the massive amount of guards that patrolled the area; I managed to slip inside unnoticed.

Ducking on the side banister of a massive set of stairs, I looked around the large ceilings of the manor, and realized that this was the largest house I had ever been in. Now I remember why I hated Nobles. They assume that their money assures that they are of divine stature. Athyn wasn’t like that, he was truly noble.

I took notice of the patrols of Dwemer Armored guards, and with silent, sure footsteps walked my way to the Right Wing of the manor.

A Dunmer Woman walked back and forth in front of a tapestry, holding a spear at the constant ready; she was a soldier type it seemed, and very intent on protecting some unseen presence. Likely Varvur.

I wasn’t about to start killing Redorans left and right, but I had to rescue him, which left a simple choice, I would knock her out. Which was rather easy as I got her in a surprise chokehold and she gasped for air before collapsing on the ground.

I looked around and wondered where I would start looking. But that was the whole point wasn’t it? Too not see anything. I walked over to the Tapestry that was hung strangely out of place, and moved it aside.

Indeed, a heavily locked door was hidden by the large cloth, I made quick and easy work of the lock, and the dim light entered into the dark room.

Lying on the floor was a half-dead looking Dunmer youth, no older then I, even with his dark skin he looked pale and dark circles surrounded his pale red eyes. He had no basic amenities, save a bowl of water, and a bucket.

“Please,…no more.” He said faintly.

Anger twinged inside me, it took all my self-control not to leave Varvur and hunt down Bolvyn Venim and make him suffer as Athyn’s Son obviously had.

“Your father sent me to rescue you, Varvur. Can you stand up?”

“My Father?...Water,…please, I need water.” He gasped out.

I picked up his bowl and brought it to his lips, he drank but only barely. I pulled out a small vial of my own restorative.

“Drink this. It’ll help more.”

He drank it slowly, and in seconds he had completely changed.

“Ahhh! Thank you! You don’t know what it’s been like…the beatings. the starvation..”

“That’s horrible, but first we need to get you out of here, take this ring.” I said handing him the ring of Khajiiti.

“This will make you invisible if you channel the energies, just stay low and follow me, don’t knock over anything and move when I move, and got it?”

He nodded enthusiastically as he put the ring on and examined it, he then suddenly disappeared before my eyes.

“What? I can’t see my hands!”

“And don’t talk either! From this point on, total silence! Lets go.”

We skulked throughout the rest of the manor, I periodically used hand signals to indicate when we should stop and move, also looking back and putting my hand out to make sure that he was there, to which he would grasp my hand to let me know that he was there.

Finally after several heart-pounding minutes, we exited the manor, and wasted no time in making it to Sarethi Manor.

As we both walked in through the door, Athyn Wife; Varvur´s Mother, broke down in tears and ran to her son embracing him in a flurry of sobs and kisses. Athyn maintained his distance, but even he could not hide a single tear that ran down his cheek, and he smiled with a pure joy.

I stood back, letting the family reunited comfort themselves. Finally, Athyn stood up and approached me.

“Thank you, Sethyas. You have earned my trust, I will sponsor you in House Redoran.”

“I thank you as well Serjo. But do not give your trust so easily, Varvur was a weak point with you that others perhaps used against you, for all you know I used it too. I tell you this so that you do not suspect that I am trying to use you, when I join House Redoran, for a time, we shall not speak. No one must suspect that we are allied, until the time is right. Besides, if this is to be my house for life, I wish to earn my own place, not have it handed to me.”

Athyn smiled a smile that beamed with pride. “Spoken like a true Assassin, and spoken like a true Redoran.”

“So you wish to join Great House Redoran?” Spoke Neminda, a well-dressed Redguard girl in the Council Hall two days later. It was a bit strange to see her, as there were almost no outlanders in House Redoran, they may have been honorable, but they were also xenophobic as hell.

“Let’s say I’m interested, and leave it at that. What does the process involve?”

“Firstly, there is the requirement on my part that I explain to you that when you join us, you will be unable to join any other house. Do you still wish to join House Redoran?”

“Yes. Please continue.”

“Very well, next is an examination of your abilities, to determine whether your skills would serve us. Follow me please.”

I followed her back into the massive council hall area, and she led me too the practice room, there were several targets lined up and a Dunmer clad in chitin armor handled a steel saber.

“I thought Redorans preferred Medium and Heavy Armors.” I asked the mer.

“We prefer that you know how to use them for battle. You can wear pretty much whatever you’d like mostly though, I’m the master-at-arms and you’ll spar with me to see if you can put that sword of yours to good use.” He said unsheathing his saber. He was to the point, I liked that.

I unsheathed my Katana, and we bowed to each other as we started the match. He tried a fancy sweep to my legs that I blocked with ease. He then held his saber at a ready to prepare for my attack.

I brought the edge of the Katana’s blade to base of his sword, the Daedric metal eating through his sword, and most of his blade flew across the room, narrowly avoiding Neminda, whom nervously stepped out of the way, as the point of the blade imbedded itself in the wall. I then brought the point of the Katana down the middle of his cuirass, not touching any flesh. The front of the Chitin armor split open seamlessly, leaving his shirt exposed.

Both Neminda and he stood in stunned silence.

“All right it looks like your just fine with a long blade!” The Dunmer laughed out.

“Now let’s see how you do with your bow.” He said pointing to the targets lined up.

I pulled out my bow, and fired a series of rapid fire shots; four out of five were bull’s-eyes, one landing slightly off center. I continued on with three other targets, the results pretty much the same.

“And you know how to use a bow….” The Dunmer said in a silence that told me he wasn’t even close to my skill. Not that I was trying to showboat, I just wanted to make sure there weren’t any concerns as to my abilities, I had to kill a lot of creatures to get that good. Mostly Cliff Racers which I loathed.

“All right, that’s enough for now. Your skills will be quite an asset to House Redoran. Your oath ceremony will be in a few days time. But for the most part, welcome to House Redoran; Hireling Sethyas Velas.” Said Neminda.

“And as a matter of fact, if you’d like to get started I have a matter that has come to my attention recently, if your willing to go, I will let it serve as your athletics test as well.”

“What can I do for the House?” I asked.

“There is a Guar Herder somewhat west of Ald’ruhn, her name is Drulene Falen, apparently she’s been having some trouble with mud crabs attacking her herd, are you willing to investigate?”

“Mud crabs.” I repeated, Athyn sure wasn’t kidding about performing menial tasks.

“Sure, I’ll go check it out. Expect my return in a few hours time.” I said taking my leave.

I ran through the West Gash, and within an hour I found a small herd of guar being tended too by a Dunmer Woman, I petted the head of a friendly guar as Drulene asked me who I was.

“Neminda sent me, something about mud crabs?” I told her, the Guar rumbling affectionately.

“Oh thank the Tribunal! Yes, they normally don’t attack animals, but once they get a taste of flesh they become hunters and need to be taken down. They attacked one of my Guar and took off with him to the southwest.”

“All right, I’ll see what I can’t do.” I said running off to the southwest, following a small trail in the mud of what looked like a wide object being dragged by something that left small pokes as footprints.

The trail led me too the bitter coast, not far from Gnaar Mok, and I saw the largely eaten corpse of a Guar being feasted on by a pair of Mud crabs. I took the opportunity to study the eating habits for a few minutes, as part of my trade includes alchemy, which transfers over into the study of both plants and animals.

Unslinging my bow, I quickly and easily dispatched both the mud crabs, and harvested there meat and shells for Drulene Falen. Hopefully she could find some exchange in these for her lost guar.

“Ah you’ve returned, and you have some crab meat?” she asked, as I handed the food to her.

“Well, I don’t eat crab meat much, but I’m sure I can whip something up with this, can I offer you some hackle-lo?” she offered as a reward.

“No thanks, I got a sack here.” I said showing her my rolled leaves.

“Ah, you’re definitely a settled Dunmer then, we herders and hunters chew it, we don’t smoke it like City dwellers. How’d that come about anyway?”

“I think it had to do with the alchemical process, the calcinator part would burn away impurities, but some alchemist noticed that the smoke still held the restore fatigue properties inherit in the leaf. Then once it caught on, I guess it became more popular in taverns and inns, beats trying to swallow your Flin with a mouth full of the leaf.”

“Oh I see, well, I thank you for your help. But I don’t suppose that as long as you’re here you could assist me with another problem?”

“What’s that?”

”Bandits have also been seen in the area, and they stole some guar from me as well. I haven’t had the chance to send the report to Ald’Ruhn yet, and I realized that they would probably just end up sending someone, probably you, again.”

“Bandits.” I repeated. Now this was something more worthy of my attention.

“I last saw them somewhere south of here.” She said as I ran off.

I approached an Ancestral Tomb, with two Guars tied to a tree outside of it. This was the place. I entered the tomb, and realized it had been converted into a hideout, and I realized it further when a Breton and a Bosmer both attacked me, fortunately for me they had only a chitin dagger and a steel tanto. Suffice to say, they went down rather easily.

I untied the Guars, and returned once more to Drulene with the rest of her herd.

“Thank you, Sethyas Velas. You’ve done all I could ask of you and more. Please accept this hackle-lo as its all I can spare.”

I graciously accepted her reward, and returned to Ald’Ruhn forthwith.

“So you took care of the Crabs, as well as some bandits? You have done better then I expected. And all in two hours time…not bad for an athletics test. Yes, you will do quite well in House Redoran, Sethyas. But I also have another urgent request of you…one of our villages, Ald Velothi, is in need of a shipment of cure disease potions, and are you willing to act as a courier?”

Inwardly I slumped, so many things to do in the name of the Nerevarine.

Outwardly I accepted the large satchel of potions, and began to trip northward, passing through Gnisis, and following the trails north, and at nightfall I arrived to the Ald Velothi outpost. A grateful Theldyn Virith took the heavy load from me, and bade to rest for the evening in the outpost.

I fell into a deep slumber after the days excursions; my brush with corprus had apparently given me increased endurance as well, as I don’t think I would have been able to handle even half the amount of running that I had experienced this day.

I awoke early that next morning full of energy and pep, and for a change, in a good mood, I could never deny the power of honest hard work, for a change I actually felt as though I had accomplished something.

“Good Morning, Hireling.” Theldyn greeted me.

“As long as you are here in Ald Velothi, do you suppose you can assist me in a matter of minor importance?”

“Sure.”

”Well, I would handle it myself, but I am too old for such a hunt, I want you to kill Old Blue Fin, he and I go way back, but lately he’s been annoying the old dreughers around here.” Theldyn described him with a strange affection.

“Old Blue Fin, eh? All right. I could use a swim anyway.” I said heading out to the shore.

I submerged myself, and was almost immediately attacked by several slaughterfish, though their bites were annoying, they were nothing beyond what a normal fisherman or more hardy dreugher couldn’t handle.

Than I saw him, he was larger then the other slaughterfish, his body was covered in scars from years of spear thrusts. I could almost sense Theldyns connection to the creature, and I decided to give him a keepsake and I casted a soul trap on the creature.

His jaws bit into my forearm, and blood clouded out into the water as he thrashed his body around, I slid out my Daedric Dagger, and brought the point into his gills, the thrashing subsided, and the salt water stung my wound.

I exited the water, and drank a restorative, not that the wound was serious in any way, but it was perhaps best not to splatter blood all over the place. I went to the outpost after I dried off, and put on my clothes, and presented the soul gem to Theldyn.
“It is done? I will miss him, things will return to quiet around here. But I thank you for your gift. It will give me something to remember him by.”

“Now as a Retainer, before you can advance any further within house Redoran, that is an Oathman, you must join me in your Oath Ceremony. From this sacred ritual you will forevermore be one with the house. You shall be family, blood, and kin. What you have done before will not matter, as you will no longer be that person. You shall become Redoran Sethyas Velas.” Neminda told me in a somber tone.

“Let us proceed.” I said.

We went to the Tribunal Temple in Ald’Ruhn, accompanying me was Serjo Sarethi himself, whom wisely showed no knowledge of me, and Lloros Sarano, the House Redoran Tribunal priest.

Dressing in the Ritual red robes of the Dunmer, I kneeled before the shrine pit in the Temple, red candles lit around the ancestor shrine, and Lloros began my recitations.

“Do you swear fealty to the teachings of the Temple, to the honor of House Redoran, and bind yourself to the Ancestors of House Redoran?”

“I do.”

“Do you swear to uphold the Honor of your House, in all things, up to your last breath?”

“I do.”

“Speak now the words of power.”

”CHIM GHARTOK PADHOME GHARTOK PADHOME ALTADOON DUNMERI!”

“Arise, Redoran Sethyas Velas, Oathman of House Redoran.” Spoke aloud Athyn Sarethi.

I arose and gazed into his face. He beamed with pride, though I felt uncertain if I was making the right choice. But I would do what I must.

Neminda and Athyn both took my hands, and escorted me out into the streets of Ald’Ruhn. It was always a cheerful event when one took the oaths and Redoran counted a new member amongst its hearth and kin. I was now a part of it.

In the Council Hall, Neminda and I spoke once more.

“Now that you are an Oathman, I feel that you should have duty that reflects your stance within the House. Alvis Teri has stolen a sacred artifact of the House, even now he walks around Balmora wearing a Founder’s Helm openly, and I want you to get it back. But there is a catch, to simply kill him outright would be dishonorable, indeed that is something that I would expect of the godless Hlaalu. You must not sink to there level, uphold our honor or else the artifact means nothing.”

I understood her meaning. Indeed, I could have just simply snuck into his house in the middle of the night and slit his throat, an easy path, perhaps the way of an Assassin, but not a Redoran. But I was both, and sometimes the two could work together.

Asking around Balmora I learned he was drinking in the Eight Plates, I entered to confront him, sitting directly across from him.

“Great, just what I need, another stinking Redoran.”

“Then you know what I’m here for. Just give me the helm.”

“I’m not scared of you Momma’s boy! You gonna just kill me? Go for it! I don’t care! Hah! I’ll be a hero in House Hlaalu for centuries! You’ll just prove that the Redoran have no honor!”

“Perhaps, but how hard do you think it would be to take out a writ on you?”

“Not hard. Heck, I’ve even been suspecting it!”

“Now look at this Ring, look carefully at the Signet.”

”That’s….that’s a Morag Tong Seal…where’d you get it?”

”By my oath and service to Mephala. Now, you may not fear death, but I happen to have a few hundred drakes, and there’s a Guild Hall right here in town. And I would have no problem immediately executing the writ, which gives me complete and total authority to take your life honorably,…..in any manner I see fit. You don’t fear death, but do you fear dying?”

He gulped as he took off the Helm throwing it at me, and ran out of the bar. His false bravado falling before my bluff-calling.

I returned to the Council within the day, bringing the Founders Helm to Neminda, only to hear her screaming at me.

“Forget the helm! Quickly! Get to Sarethi Manor! There’s been an attack!” she screamed in fear at me. I noticed that she was tending to a wounded guard, one of Athyn Sarethi´s guards.

I left the helm, and ran at top speed to the Manor, the door was left open, and as I entered, I feared the worst as I saw two more guards’ dead, lying in pools of their own blood.

And in a corner, Athyn fended off two Morag Tong Assassins with a Steel Short blade, holding his own, as an accomplished warrior.

I put three poisoned throwing knives in the spaces between my fingers, and brought my hand to the side of my head. My fist opened as I brought my hand down in a powerful arc, the blades flew through the air, and landed in the back of one of the Assassins. He moaned in pain as the poison acted swiftly.

The other, with a Black Hand face tattoo just like mine, and white hair in a single knot turned around to face me, but became stunned.

“Master? Why?”

”What you are doing is Honorable, but I act in defense of my kinsman as a Redoran, not as Mephala’s Servant. I am honor bound to kill you, just as you are to kill him.” I said pointing to Athyn, whom did not waste the opportunity to sheathe his blade into the Assassins back.

“Well, I guess what you told me was true, Oathman….or is it Master?” Athyn said with an adrenaline pumped tone.

“It is both.”

“I guess I see now where your loyalties truly lie. But I wonder…what if the Writ had been assigned to you? Would I be the one lying dead now?”

“Yes, Serjo. Just as I have taken the Oaths of House Redoran, I have also taken the Oaths of the Morag Tong. I told you, I have taken the lives of Redorans before. But I am more curious as to whom ordered the writ.”

”This is the fourth time that the Tong has attacked me. My guess is that after you rescued Varvur, Venim requested another writ. We have been somewhat at odds you see.”

“Yes, I do see. Is there a schism within the House I don’t know of?”

”You guessed right, all this is just symptoms of the,…debate between Venim and I. He is a strong leader, and has done great things for House Redoran. How can I explain the hold he has over the hearts of the Redoran people? He brought us back from certain defeat. He moved the council here to Vvardenfell and took our share of the frontier lands. He is a natural leader, born to rule. One only wishes he was just and fair as well as strong."

“Then all this is an attempt to wrest control from Venim, and confer it to the Councilors?”

“No….it is much more complicated then that. But the time to speak of it will be a later date. Report back to Neminda, I need time to clean things up here, and prepare for our next move.”

“Very well Serjo.”

“But I can tell you this, you’ve more then earned a promotion to Kinsman, the rank is virtually the same as Oathman anyway, but Venim is forcing my hand, and the time to strike back is nearing. Prepare yourself Sethyas, a storm is brewing.”

On to the next chapter