"Well, well," he said as I walked into the Guildhouse. "Look who's back. Larienna Macrina was very pleased with your performance, I have her report here." (Here he waved a sheaf of parchment at me). "It seems as though you acquitted yourself in an exemplary manner Journeyman Vahl, or should I just start calling you Swordsman Vahl?" In addition to the rather sudden promotion, I also received the not inconsiderable sum of five hundred Septims for the task I'd just completed.
"Now you've proven yourself to be reliable," he said, without any trace of shame at expressing his doubts, "I have a further task for you.
"It seems that there's some trouble at the Dissapla Mine, over in the Grazelands. The guards there are busy protecting the Empire's investment so Novor Drethan, the Manager of the mine, has asked for our assistance. I want you to go to the mine and sort out whatever his problem is."
"Where is this Dissapla Mine?" I asked, "The Grazelands covers a large area."
"It's by the ancient Dark Elf fort of Falensarano," he said. "Here, let me mark it on your map. The mine is just a little way northeast of the fortress."
I examined my new annotated map; the fortress was roughly west of a town called Tel Aruhn. And by way of being far too far to travel today. I still had a few aches and pains from my visit to the Dwemer ruins, my axe needed sharpening, and I had a serious dent in my armour that needed repairing. So, not surprisingly, I opted to return to Balmora and take care of all of those things, and a few other things besides.
Ra'Virr seemed oddly eager to get his hands on the tiny Dwemeri coins and the items of tableware I'd picked up and gave me a very good price for them. That money, coupled with the money I got for a couple of weapons I'd picked up in Nchurdamz was more than enough to pay Meldor to sharpen my axe and repair my armour: with enough left over to get a soothing balm from Nelcarya for my aches and pains and buy some provisions from the 'Eight Plates'. After a quick meal, I slipped into a cosy bed and slept the sleep of the newly promoted.
After breaking my fast at the 'Eight Plates', I walked down to the Mages Guildhall and used the Guide service to get to Ald'ruhn. There I purchased a Translocation spell keyed to Sadrith Mora where, upon casting, I quickly found myself in. Shaking off the inevitable effects of the spell, I cast the cantrip that allows me to walk upon water and, running as quickly as I dared, I skimmed across Zafirabel bay.
As the spell started to dissolve, I made landfall on a small islet somewhere in the bay. As I clambered over the quite steep hill in the centre, I espied a ship cast up on the rocks at the western side of the island. Climbing aboard wasn't a problem since the rocks that had sunk the vessel protruded over the handrail. I had a moment's panic as I dropped from the rock - envisioning myself plunging through rotten wood to a watery death below. To my immense relief, the wood held, although it did creak somewhat alarmingly. The captain's cabin yielded nothing; neither did the two holds hold anything of any great value. I did, however, discover a jar of truffles, which I kept: these are a rare and expensive luxury and I was sure I could find someone willing to purchase them from me.
Once more casting the water-walking spell, I ran across the bay - recasting the spell at need as it started to dissolve and drinking deeply of my dwindling stock of Replenish Magicka potions. In this way, I quickly crossed the bay and made landfall on the main body of the island. Checking my location on the map, I turned north and clambered over some very desolate hills before descending into the verdant lushness of the Grazelands. Striking out in a northeasterly direction, it wasn't long before I could make out the bulk of a massive building rising from the hillocks ahead of me.
I circled Falensarano carefully: I had been advised that bandits often used these long abandoned fastnesses as a base of operations. A building that massive could hold a good many bandits, and I wasn't keen on giving them a target upon which to practise their banditry. Fortunately, the Dissapla Mine was only a few minutes walk away from the stronghold and I slipped into the cool, dark interior with a sense of relief. The glittering green light lit my way and told me that I was in a Glass mine. Taking my directions from the miners, I descended deep into the mine to a chamber where I found Novor Drethan.
"Nix-Hounds," the tall, well-dressed Dunmer said. Then, by way of an explanation, he added, "there are three, or possibly four, Nix-Hounds that have gotten into the mine. Unfortunately, I can't spare the guards to deal with them and one of the miners has gone missing. I need you to find Teres Arothan and guide him to safety."
Nix-hounds. I thought to myself as I unslung my axe and got a good grip on the haft, hardly a major problem. Walking softly, but without being too stealthy, I made my way up the short incline and into another set of tunnels. As I moved past a large pool of molten rock, there came an eerie howling noise from up ahead. Oh yeah, Nix-Hounds all right: I'd recognise that noise anywhere. And there, just up ahead, was one of them.
With a loud yell, I rushed out at the Nix-Hound, axe at the ready. What's that expression about fools rushing in? I'd neglected to consider that the chamber might have a second entrance and, as my axe thudded into the startled creature, I caught movement in my peripheral vision. Even as I hauled the axe loose, I was struck by a clawed paw from another of the Nix-Hounds that had rushed into the chamber.
Fortunately, the stupid creatures were so eager to get at me that they were getting in each other's way. Raising my hand, I softly spoke the words of power for a cantrip of fire, slapping the already wounded Nix-Hound with my hand as I completed the incantation. As flames wreathed the designated creature, I spun and swung - a vicious upward slashing motion that neatly parted the head of one Nix-Hound from the rest of it. Without even hesitating, I looped the axe up and over, burying it forcefully into the skull of the third hound.
"igneus manus " I yelled, releasing the axe-shaft and grasping the last hound around the head. Fire bloomed between my hands, and I stepped back sharply to avoid the spell's backwash. As the Nix-Hound collapsed into a twitching heap, I turned back and carefully worked my axe from the skull I'd buried it in: not much caring for the gruesome cracking noises as I withdrew it.
"Teres Arothan!" I yelled, "Can you hear me?"
"Here," came muffled cry from deeper in the cavern. Despite the echoes, I was pretty certain it had come from up ahead - the tunnels that the Nix-Hounds had come from. Following it up a short incline, I came to another chamber. There was a rock-shelf at the end of the chamber, with crude wooden stairs leading up to it. Much more importantly, there was the faint glimmer of light up there. Clambering up the stairs, I found a Dunmer cowering in a small alcove; just about as far back as he could get.
"Teres Arothan?" I asked. Receiving a nod of confirmation, I told him, "I'm here to lead you to safety."
"No, no, no," he gasped fearfully. "Not coming out while those Nix-Hounds are out there."
"It's quite alright," I said, extending a hand, "they're all dead." He took my word for that and clambered out of the hole. Keeping him close beside me, I led him back the way I'd come until we reached the chamber where Novor Drethan waited.
"Well done," Drethan said as kindly hands led the still trembling Arothan away. "I can't give you too much by way of a reward, but these might prove valuable to you." He wasn't kidding, I reflected as I walked out of the mine into the soft sunlight. Four shards of raw Glass was a valuable reward. Taking a deep breath, I raised my hands and chanted "Ex hic absum, ut Sadrith Mora".
(Okay, so technically I could have used the spell whilst I was still down the Dissapla Mine. Some people have an unreasonable fear of boats; some have a phobia about Nix-Hounds. I happen to have a problem with teleportation spells. Basically, I don't trust them not to screw up on me - I've heard far too many stories about translocation spells backfiring for me to ever be particularly comfortable using them. As for using relocation spells while I'm underground? Yeah, you can just forget that idea.)
Hrundi was pleased to see me, or gave that impression anyway. Personally, I think he was more pleased that I'd completed the assignment. Whichever it was, he gave me two hundred and fifty Septims, and then asked if I'd be interested in a bounty. When I indicated that I might be, he gave me details.
"Well lassie," he said, "there's this bandit by the name of Rels Tenim who's been making a wee bit of a nuisance of himself up around Vos. Word has it the Mage-Lord up there is pretty fashed by the whole deal an' wants this Tenim's head on a pike. To that end, he's issued a bounty on the chappie. We were lucky enough to get first bite at it - now I'm giving it tae you."
"There's another thing you'll be wanting to take care of," Hrundi said when I'd agreed to take over the bounty. "There's a lassie by the name of Berwen in Tel Mora. Says she got some sort of monster in her shop. Since you'll be up that way, have a look. It's probably nonsense, but there's a hefty bounty she's giving out for anyone who deals with it."
I agreed that I'd look into the situation in Tel Mora on my way to Vos, tomorrow. It was far too late to be travelling today. Fortunately, Hrundi agreed and allowed me to use one of the beds in the Guildhouse overnight.
Hrundi and I broke our fast together before I started out. After that I made my way down to the docks where I circulated amongst the various captains and Bo 'suns until I found a vessel that was headed to a place called Dagon Fel. The ship's mate agreed to drop me off at Tel Mora, for a financial consideration. And so it was, several hours later that I found myself on the dockside at Tel Mora.
The tiny island was dominated by another of those mushroom-tower buildings, with a cluster of smaller 'buildings' around the base. Since everyone on the dock was busy unloading, or loading, the ship I'd just arrived on I decided to see if I could find this Berwen the Trader myself. Not exactly the wisest of decisions. There was this circular growth at the end of the dock and the instant I stepped past that I was surrounded by guards. They wore the traditional armour that I'd seen guards wearing in Balmora - although of a slightly different design: Bonemold I think it is called. They all wore strange helmets upon their heads, purple-coloured things with horns and strange protuberances. Oddly, they all wore long, ankle length skirts similar to the guards I'd seen in Ald'ruhn.
"Where are you going?" one of the guards asked me, an unmistakable tone of menace in her voice. It dawned on me that each and every one of the guards surrounding me was female.
"I am Swordsman Sudhendra Vahl," I said, managing to keep my voice firm. "I am here at the bequest of Berwen the Trader."
The guard directed me to the shop and warned me that she'd be watching me before moving off. Not exactly the friendliest people I've ever encountered, these Telvanni, I thought as I clambered up the ladder to the 'pod' that served Berwen as a shop.
"Oh thank the goddess you're here," the attractive Bosmeri female breathed as I entered the shop. "Wait, you are from the Fighter's Guild, aren't you?" I assured her that I was, and she sighed with relief. "The beast's upstairs - I managed to barricade it behind some crates."
Unslinging my axe from my back, I smiled tightly - if there was just one creature (and there certainly was something upstairs, I could hear it) then it shouldn't be much of a problem. As I climbed the spiral stairs became aware of a smell: like fruit that has started to rot, or butter that's been left in the sunshine too long. As I moved into the upper area, the smell became stronger.
Something in a dark corner moved as I reached the top of the stairs, and then came a heavy clumping sound as light reflected on the creature's eyes from the lone lantern. I don't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't this ruin of a Man that stepped out of the shadows - arms outstretched towards me. Its... no, his skin had gone a greyish colour: not the colour of healthy Dunmeri flesh, but an ashy grey. Huge lesions and sores dotted the almost naked body, where they didn't, the skin looked flaky - as though it needed but an excuse to start peeling off. The face was a ruin, the lips misshapen and slobbering, the hair falling out in patches even as I watched. The nose of the Man seemed to have partially collapsed, as though he'd caught one of those diseases that sailors pick up on shore leave. But it was the eyes that were the worst. I've heard it said that the eyes are the windows of the soul: if that was true, then there was nothing left of it in this creature.
As it clawed for me, I swung the axe in a perfectly flat arc. I was outside the creature's reach, but the extension of the axe-handle put it firmly in mine. There was a horrible, indescribable sound as the creature's neck split - the head parting company from the rest of the torso and hitting the floor with a terrible and final sound. Shaking, I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth. As deformed and corrupt as the creature had been, it still felt uncomfortably like the murder of an innocent.
Adopting a suitably grim face - not a difficult task, let me assure you - I walked downstairs. I was proud of myself, I didn't rush even though I wanted to, nor did I stumble, even though my knees felt like jelly. "I've dealt with the creature for you," I told Berwen.
"Oh thank you," she said, "thank you. You're so much braver than I am, and I'll be sure to tell that nice man from the Fighter's Guild just how good you were."
I didn't comment on the fact that I thought she was pretty brave herself, what with staying in the building with that mouldering hulk upstairs. Instead, I bid her farewell and made my way back down to the docks - wondering, as I did so, why the numerous guards patrolling Tel Mora hadn't dealt with the creature. I was in luck, the first real luck I'd had this day: there was a small skiff at the docks and - for the princely sum of a single Septim - the ship owner agreed to row me across to the village of Vos.
Vos seemed a pleasant enough hamlet, built in a strange style I didn't recognise. There was a fair amount of hustle and bustle as the locals tended to their crops. I managed to collar one of them and ask him about Rels Tenim.
"Well, arrr. You see, he done robbed the local Temple Miss, arrr, that he did," the yokel drawled. "We done give a chasing arter him, but he got hisself up to the Ahemmusa Camp. We don't be goin' there, them Ashlanders ain't none too friendly."
A slightly more alert (and intelligent I thought) guard confirmed the local's story. Rels Tenim had robbed the local Temple and headed off northeast to the Ahemmusa camp. Following the guard's directions, I found the camp easily enough. Standing on a hillside overlooking the collection of temporary looking yurts, I considered my approach. Walking in with axe in hand didn't seem like a very good idea, I'd heard that these Ashlanders could be a bit... touchy about outsiders. With a deep sigh, I holstered my axe and - pausing only to prepare a spell in case I needed it - I entered the camp.
I was expecting savages, what I got instead were a very proud people who, if they deigned to speak to me at all, spoke with an icy politeness that bordered on the frigid. It took several attempts to get one of the Ashlanders to speak to me and I suspect that was only because I spoke the name Rels Tenim. With utter distain, he told me that the bandit had a camp in the Shallit caves. These were to be found on a small island to the northwest of the Ahemmusa camp. I was also told that, if I came to a Dwemer ruin, I would have gone too far and would have to turn back.
Thanking my informant with as much charm as I could muster, I headed off to the shoreline - only a little way from the camp. Licking my lips, I spoke the incantation "rigor unda" and stepped out onto the shimmering surface of the water. I'd used my water-walking spell several times in the past, but never on an ocean. Seeing that it worked just as well on the undulating surface as it did on a flat, still pond, I stepped out with confidence and began moving as quickly as I dared towards a small bunch of islands to the northwest. I had to recast the spell several times before I arrived at an island that was slightly bigger than the others I'd been past. Another thing that set this island out from the others was the partially submerged door nestling between some rocks. The cartouche on the door clearly identified it as 'Shallit Cave'.
This is odd, although there is ample evidence of occupation, there is nobody in the cave. There are a couple of crates, one containing a couple of 'Rising Force' potions, near the front of the cave and a fire pit and bedrolls at the back. Right at the back of the cave is a door, old and scarred, which (according to the cartouche) leads into the Drethan tomb. Perhaps there's a clue to Tenim's whereabouts in there?
You know what they say about the best-laid plans of Scribs and Mer? Well I was just about to get evidence that even the best and most careful plans could go way further astray than you could imagine.
The tomb was as dark as... well, the grave to be honest. There was no lighting except that which came through the open door. It was enough, however, to illuminate the figure of a woman who was bent over a stone plinth, reading a bundle of parchments. She turned her head and smiled at me. Not the 'hello, you're a welcome visitor' type of smile - more the sort of 'I want to suck the marrow from your bones while you're still alive' kind of smile. I suddenly felt woozy, unable to take my eyes from hers, which, I could have sworn, were glowing in the dark. With sinuous grace, the woman pivoted on the spot and started to walk towards me while a part of my mind, the bit not transfixed by her eyes, clamoured for attention.
Her smile widened, at first to humorous bard proportions and then wider still. The light from behind me glistened on a set of wickedly sharp teeth as her nose started to deform. My unoccupied mind was screaming for attention now. What was it trying to tell me?
...VAMPIRE...
With a curse, I tore my gaze from hers and staggered backwards, sliding my sword from its sheath as I did so. The woman hissed and waved her hands whilst muttering some arcane cantrip. There was a flare of purple sparks and she suddenly rushed at me with unbelievable speed. Panic-stricken, I stuck my sword out and let her run onto the end of it. Spitting and hissing like a maddened cat, she threw herself backwards - ripping my sword from my hand. Wrapping her hand around the blade, she calmly slid it from her breast and threw it on the floor. My almost instinctive reaction had brought me just enough time to grab my axe.
I'd like to say that the battle went well for me, and that I defeated my opponent easily. That is what the storytellers would have you believe. Ha, let me tell you that this vampiress was the most difficult opponent I'd ever faced. Let's be honest, it's pretty damn' difficult to kill something that's already dead. Ghosts, mummies, even zombies and Bone-Walkers all attack by instinct and, if you can keep your wits about you, they're not too difficult to deal with. Your average fampir? An unpleasant mixture of ferocity, instinct, and guile: the whole package wrapped in bestial fury and the remnants of the original human intelligence. In short, not the sort of opponent you treat lightly.
A healthy blow caused my ears to sing and I responded with a wild slice that neatly lopped off one of the vampire's hands. She danced backwards, her preternaturally fast reactions allowing her to catch the severed body part before it even hit the ground. Giggling, the vampiress gave me a coy and chilling smile as she pressed the ragged end of her amputated hand against the equally ragged stump of her arm. I groaned as I watched the undead flesh knit itself back together. Most of the spells I knew were useless - the ability to walk on water was pretty unhelpful at this point and I sure as Oblivion wasn't getting close enough to her to use my Firebite spell. That left me with pretty much one option. Taking several large backward steps as she gazed in fascination at her repaired hand, I took a deep breath and chanted "Adeo mihi, mortuus animus".
There was a soft sigh of wind and a tiny, writhing yellow spark appeared. In less than a second it had grown immeasurably and the twisting, writhing knot of light sat at the heart of a whirlwind of glimmering dust particles as the ancestral spirit I'd called forth created a form for itself on the material plane. Then, there stood a kindly faced old Man with a long beard and heavy laughter-lines at the corner of his eyes. The hooded robe he wore was decorated with strange symbols. Despite the fact he was semi-transparent, he radiated a feeling of comfort and warmth: his lips moving soundlessly as his eyes twinkled and shone. Ignoring the phantasmal figure completely, the vampiress hissed and launched herself at me.
The change was sudden and terrible. One second there was this charming and friendly old Man. Then the head whipped around and that gaze fell on the vampiress. Pseudo-flesh sloughed away to reveal a distorted and malformed skull as hands that just as suddenly became skeletal claws reached out. There was a sizzling sound as empyreal flesh came into contact with reanimated flesh and fire flared around the arm of the female vampire. That made her pay attention to the ancestral ghost.
As these two transmundane creatures fought, I took every opportunity afforded me: setting my feet and getting a good grip on the haft of the axe. When I was certain that everything was perfect, I swung. There was a sudden tearing noise, and the vampiress was suddenly shorter by a head. Something seemed to flutter in the darkness, and then the female suddenly dissolved into dust. Panting heavily, I dropped the axe and ferreted about in my pack with some urgency. I could barely hold the slim-necked bottles as I drew them out. First a potion to repair the bruises and cuts the woman had inflicted on me. Then, even as the restorative fire coursed through me, I took a second potion to prevent any infection from setting in. A glimmer of yellow light made me look up, and I was just in time to observe the once more kindly face of one of the ancestors dissolving into yellowish coloured smoke.
I also caught a glimpse of light amidst the dust of my former foe. Reaching down to examine it, I found a powerfully enchanted ring. Made of silver, in the form of a Bretonian Knot, it bore the inscription "MARARA" on it. Pocketing the object, I decided that enough was enough - at least for today. Closing the crypt door and wedging the blade of my axe under it, I settled down to rest.
Sometimes you get a lucky break, and that was what I got as I was leaving Shallit. There, on the bare rock between the pool and the crates was a line of damp footprints. They led away from the crates and suddenly stopped. Looking up, I saw what I had missed previously - a ledge up near the top of the cave that was almost perfectly hidden by some overhanging rocks. Now I knew why there had been so many Rising Force potions in the crate.
Taking a potion, I eyed the thin purplish liquid inside the flask uneasily. With a soft sigh, I pulled out the cork and drank deeply of the oddly smelling fluid. Tentatively at first, then with more confidence, I started to walk upwards through thin air. It felt oddly like walking on marshy ground - soft underfoot and giving the impression that you're going to meet a catastrophic problem at any moment but still managing to support you. I did find, however, that looking down was not a very good thing to do. So, eyes resolutely forward and wobbling slightly, I air-walked my way up to the stony ledge.
Sticking to the shadows, I carefully peered around an outcropping rock. There, a little way in front of me, stood a roughly dressed Dunmer - his back to me. I had no idea how many ruffians were in this cave along with Rels Tenim but I was pretty sure they'd all take exception to my being there. And, even if I managed to sneak past them all somehow and find Tenim? I was fairly confident that the alarm would be raised and I'd have to fight them all on the way out. So, divide and conquer seemed my only option.
I had a small dagger with me - a replacement I'd purchased for the one lost at Nchurdamz. Keeping to the shadows as much as I was able and keeping as quiet as I could (and silently blessing the bandits for leaving this tunnel unlit), I crept up behind the Mer and clamped my hand across his mouth. I wouldn't have been able to keep him quiet for long but then again, I didn't have to. I brought my dagger up under his chin - hard. He stiffened, then convulsed against me as the sharp business end of the blade punched into his brain. Sagging a little under his now dead weight, I carefully lowered him to the floor and moved deeper into the hidden recesses of the cavern.
Luck had been with me so far, and it was staying with me as I approached a sharp curve in the tunnel. From just around the bend, I heard the soft scrape of leather on stone. Freezing on the spot, I waited to see if I could hear anything else. Yes, there - the padding of feet on stone moving away from me. I'm not very proficient with a bow and have certainly had no formal training: that didn't stop me from unhooking the wooden shortbow I had been carrying and knocking a steel arrow onto the string. With exaggerated caution, I moved to the edge of the curve and peered down the adjoining passageway. Some thirty paces away stood a female Dunmer clad in leather. As I watched, she started to turn...
Ducking back into cover, I held my breath as I pulled back on the bowstring - bringing it to tension as I counted the footsteps that approached. At ten, I drew the string back further so that the ends of the bow started to take up the pressure. At twenty, I pulled the bowstring fully taut. At twenty-five, I spun out of the corner and let fly the arrow. Straight and true it flew - punching into the woman's eye in a welter of blood. Soundlessly, she fell to the floor. I wish the same could have been said of the sword she carried.
"Vad var s� pass?" I heard a guttural Nordic voice say as the metallic clatter echoed through the enclosed space. I knew then that my luck had just run out. I had just enough time to prepare myself by drawing my axe and calling a spell to mind before the heavy-set Man rushed into sight. The fight was brutal and messy: his greater strength and reach made him a dangerous opponent for me; I did have the advantage of speed however. We traded blows back and forth until I managed to get in a lucky hit. The Man grunted in surprise, looking down to where his intestines were hanging out of his stomach. He gasped something I didn't understand and sagged against the wall. I wasn't taking any chances at this point and ran my dagger across his throat - there was no way I was leaving a potentially dangerous, albeit badly injured, opponent behind me.
(Some of you might be a little confused by my apparent bloodthirsty behaviour in light of my reaction to the poor Man at Tel Mora. That monstrosity hadn't asked to be the shambling and mindless hulk he became. Tenim and his cohorts had deliberately chosen this life, knowing that they would have to kill to get their booty. That, plus the fact that they'd do their damned best to put me in a grave before I did for them.)
There were a couple more opponents to deal with before I was satisfied that I had cleared the cavern of occupants. I'd picked up several bruises and cuts - the worst being a long gash down my left arm. Searching through various chests, barrels and containers I found a nice haul of precious stones, some of the rarer alchemical ingredients and some nice weapons. Much more importantly to me, at this moment in time anyway, was the restorative potion I found. Gratefully, I drank the pungent liquid and then sat moaning as the stuff did its job. I even managed to drift off to sleep for a moment or two.
I can't put my finger on it, but I seemed to feel much better after my little nap - almost as though there was more to me than there used to be, if that makes any sense at all. It's a feeling I've come to know well: that feeling of being better than I used to be. At the time I just shrugged it off as an effect of the healing potion and thought no more about it. Making sure I'd taken everything I wanted from Shallit, I cast the spell that would return me to Sadrith Mora.
"I'd like to deposit a thousand Septims into my account," I told the stern-faced woman in the Sadrith Mora branch of the Bank of Vvardenfell. She carefully counted the coins and swept them off the counter.
"Your statement of account," she said. When I handed it over, she cast some spell over it that rewrote the figures and made them reflect my recent deposit. With that done, I made my way back into Wolverine Hall and sold off most of the ingredients filling my pack for almost six hundred Septims. Most of them went to the Altmer in the Mages Guildhall, but I also sold some to a talkative monk named Scelian Plebo in the Imperial shrine. Then it was time to speak to Hrundi.
"Lassie, you came back!" he said happily as I walked in the door. "I heard tell o' that beast in Tel Mora. Yon Berwen was right pleased wi' ye." I'd noticed that his accent got broader the happier he was - if he ever got too happy nobody would be able to understand him. Still, it was nice that he was glad to see me: that's not a feeling I was accustomed too. "I have here the money she sent for ye, less our commission o' course.
"And you took care o' Rels Tenim too from all accounts, so I'll be owin' you this sum too." With that Hrundi carefully counted out seven hundred Septims and slid them across the table to me.
"I've another wee job for you, if you're at all interested," he said. "I'll be sorry to say it's not as exciting as the last two jobs. We hae a contract with the Imperial Legion to supply the soldiers at some o' the mines here on Vvardenfell. I've a load of Sujamma here needs to be delivered to the Dunirai Mines.
"Here, let me show you on your map," he said. I spread the map on the table and he leaned over and stabbed a finger into an area of nothingness on the map. "It's right here lassie," he said, "southeast o' the Ghostgate an' roughly between Foyada Esannudan and the Foyada Ashur-Dan."
Well, I did want to get to know the island that was my home - although tramping into the middle of nowhere to deliver the twenty bottles of booze I was now carrying hadn't figured in my plans for doing so. Besides, how dangerous could it be?
Once more Hrundi let me bed down for the night in the Guildhouse and I slept the sleep of the truly ignorant.
made my way upstairs to the Mages Guildhall - where I purchased a levitation spell - before using the Guild-Guide service to send me on my way to Ald'ruhn. I'd been impressed by the effects of the Rising Force potion I'd used in Shallit, and could see how levitating could come in very, very useful. I was aware, however, that I wouldn't always have a potion to hand: hence the spell. I'd also found that the Void-Walk spells were much less stressful than the Guild-Guide service. That's why I tracked down Delas Mrania and purchased the necessary incantation to deliver me to Ald'ruhn whenever I needed to be there.
There was a trader, one of those that you often find wandering around the Empire, outside and I asked him for directions to the Dunirai Mines. It turned out to be quite a trek from Ald'ruhn, far further than Hrundi had intimated. The journey east past Fort Buckmoth and down into the Foyada Mamaea was uneventful, as was the crossing of the vast jumbled plain of ash and rock. It struck me, for the first time, as I crossed that wasteland that something fairly cataclysmic had happened here in the past. If there had been a volcanic explosion, then it must have been absolutely massive to cause this sort of desolation. Still, philosophising aside, it took me quite a while to make my way to the area indicated on the map. Fortunately, apart from the occasional run in with the local fauna - much of which seemed intent on making me their next meal - I found the Dunirai caverns with no problem.
The delivery was simple, and I soon found myself back outside the caverns with a substantially lighter pack. I suppose I could have Void-Walked back to Ald'ruhn or Sadrith Mora but the day was pleasant and I wasn't really in any rush. So I set off in the general direction of Balmora at no particularly great speed. I'd been travelling for a couple of hours when I came across something quite unusual. There, on a large rock, was a chalked arrow pointing northwards. Intrigued, I headed off in that direction.
There were several more of these chalked arrows - some on rocks and some on the floor. Then they suddenly petered out. I headed off in the direction indicated by the last arrow and soon found myself in a narrow canyon that split into several smaller defiles. More by luck than judgement, I turned a corner and came face to face with a young Dunmer.
"Erm, you're not one of those Ashlander types are you?" he asked nervously. Smiling, I shook my head - amused that he'd mistake me for one of the natives. "Then perhaps I could ask you to help me? You see, I was exploring and, and... well, I got lost, and my chalk broke, and I think I've been going 'round in circles for the last hour or two. If you can guide me back to Balmora, I'm sure my uncle will be most appreciative."
The lodestone wouldn't work in the canyons - I guess there must have been some more nearby. I do, however, have a fairly good memory for directions and I was able to lead the young man - Mannabu Dren - back the way I'd come and out into the wastelands. Checking our location and my map, I saw we weren't that far from a place called Caldera. As we travelled towards the town, we chatted. It turns out that Mannabu Dren fancies himself as a bit of an explorer and had set out to look for the source of the River Odai. He was a pleasant enough companion, although a little on the chatty side for me. So, it was something of a relief when I spotted the thatched roofs of the guard-towers of Caldera.
It had been my intention to lead him from Caldera to Balmora since the road is well travelled, well signposted, and relatively safe. However, when I saw the "all-seeing-eye" emblem of the Mages Guild outside an unassuming building, I had a change of plan. Leading him inside, I paid for the two of us to be transported - via Guild Guide - to Balmora.
"What have you gotten yourself into this time?" a Mage in a heavily embroidered robe said as Mannabu Dren stepped out of the small room where the Guide operates in Balmora. "Off exploring again, I have no doubt. Well, you'd better get yourself off to the Eight Plates and see if they'll prepare a meal for you."
As the young man headed off, the Mage turned to me and said, "My name is Marayen Dren, and I thank you for rescuing my idiot nephew. Every time he comes here from the mainland, he gets this urge to explore. And every time he goes off to explore, he gets himself lost. Last time we had half the House Guards out scouring the Foyada Mamaea for him. Two and a half days later, he comes in by silt-strider from Gnisis. How he got himself all up there is beyond me.
"Anyway, I am truly grateful that you rescued him. My sister would never let me hear the end of it if something happened to him. Here, I will teach you a spell as a reward. I have three potent spells I know: I can teach you the spell 'Blink', a quick and dirty invisibility spell; 'Fastfall', which is short duration levitation spell you can cast on a target; or I can teach you "Boiling Blood', which is a very powerful fire-based touch spell.
"An excellent choice," he said when I asked him to teach me 'Boiling Blood'. "It's terribly crude but effective. It's saved my life more than once." We sat and Marayen Dren showed me how to weave the necessary construct for the spell. Once we had finished, I thanked him again and made my way to the house I'd taken over. It was a little early, so I made a few notes and packed away the ingredients I'd not managed to sell yet before settling down in bed for a good night's sleep. Does the phrase 'the lull before the storm' ring bells? It certainly should have with me.
Sadrith Mora was my destination this morning; I needed to tell Hrundi that I'd delivered the Sujamma safely. My first attempt at the Void-Walk spell failed but I managed to cast it correctly the second time and appeared down by the Gateway Inn. Quite cheerfully, I headed up to Wolverine Hall, climbed the stairs and made my way to the Fighters Guildhall.
"Here ye go lassie," Hrundi said, dropping the last of the fifty ten-Septim pieces into the pile in front of me, "five hundred Septims, the standard courier's fee 'round these parts. An' I'm thinking that ye be due a promotion.
"Aye," he said, noticing my surprised expression. "Dinnae look so surprised Protector Vahl. You're getting yourself quite the reputation lassie. There's some in the Guild as wouldn't be handing out promotions if ye'd just saved their own selves from certain death. I'm no one o' them. I give ye a job, I know the job's gonna get done, nae fashin' about it at all. Yer a bonnie lass Sudhendra, and I've got another one o' them sweet jobs for ye."
"Tell me more," I said, not unflattered by his comments.
"There's this scholarly type, name o' Sondaale out of Shimmerene," he said.
"An Altmer," I commented, raising an eyebrow.
"Aye," was his comment, along with a wry smile. "The usual sort o' thing, you know. Anyways, she's doin' some thesis on the auld Resdayni forts, full o' the usual hot air I'll be bound. So, this Sondaale is lookin' for someone to give her a wee helpin' hand over at Telasero - minding her back so to speak. I thought of you straight away, seein' as how Larienna Macrina gave ye such a glowin' report.
"She's agreed to meet you at the fort," Hrundi said, spreading my map on the table between us. I'd agreed to do the job almost immediately - I was intrigued by the forts having seen a couple of them and this was the perfect excuse to go inside and have a look around. "Now, here's Suran, an' here be Molag Mar. Telasero is pretty much exactly half-way between the two.
"Now, most o' these forts are home to an unsavoury bunch - bandits and cutthroats mostly. However, the Legion cleared this place out less than a month ago an', as far as we know, the bandits have nae returned there yet. Still, I'll be expectin' ye back in very much one piece so you be mindin' your back in there - ye hear?"
Assuring Hrundi that I'd take great care of myself, and of Sondaale, I went downstairs and had the Guild-guide transport me over to Balmora. From there I caught the silt-strider over to Suran. Checking my map, I saw that I'd have to head south out of the town, and then cut east along the coast towards Molag Mar. It looked to be a fair step, and I wasn't likely to arrive much before the Twelfth Hour - and possibly even a bit later. As I walked out of Suran, I was surprised to see a small 'mining claim' nestled in a natural alcove in the rocks lining the steeply downward path. There was a Nord working the claim but I knew that it was available to anyone who had the right tools.
Just a little further down the path was a chalked arrow, pointing up a fairly steep bit of hillside. I'd had some luck following the last set of arrows so I decided to follow this one too. There were several more arrows - fortunately leading in the general direction I wanted to go - directing me over some fairly strenuous terrain. At the end of them was a massive hunk of rock. Puzzled, I made my way around it until, lying in a hollow betwixt the rock and the cliff-face, I espied a cloth sack. Opening it revealed a pair of perfectly matched Emeralds, an ensorcelled ring, a small bottle of crimson fluid, and a hundred Septims. Tucking these into my pack, I whistled my way down the hillside to the shoreline and made my way more or less eastwards.
I was a little out in my estimation, it was closer to the Fourteenth Hour when I arrived at the imposing bulk of the Dunmeri fortress: I'd been detained by several attacks from a species of flying creature indigenous to these parts - a Cliff-Racer. There may be more annoying creatures than these flapping brown vermin with their sharp beaks and spiked, horny tails - if so I've yet to encounter them. It took a little while before I realised it was my whistling that was attracting them - their natural belligerence and stupidity prompted the constant diving and swooping attacks.
So, this was a, what had Hrundi called it? Oh yes, a Resdayni Fortress. The massive bulk of the building rose up from the ash-strewn plain in a series of stepped ledges, with massive reinforcing buttresses protruding from the building's sides. As far as I could tell, the steep stairs were the only way onto the flat area on top of the fort. A tall 'keep' rode up from the middle of this stone 'plateau'; dark, deeply recessed windows glared balefully from all sides of the tower. Attacking a place like this would be insane - this flat killing field would be strewn with bodies if archers who were even semi-competent defended the fort. What a well-trained Mage could do here didn't bear thinking about.
There did, however, seem to be a complete lack of anyone waiting here for me. Over in one corner were a pack and a small fire, but there was no sign of Sondaale. As I scanned the artificial plateau, I caught a glint of light from the corner of my eye: over by the door. With a prescient sinking feeling in my stomach, I tugged out the dagger pinning the note to the weathered door.
CODE Esteemed Fighter, I have waited here for you but decided to enter this fort without you. It seems safe enough and I expect no surprises or problems. You may leave or stay and join me for luncheon, as you will. Sondaale.
Bugger. That meant that this note had been written before the Noon Hour (probably well before since the scholar would have expected to spend a couple of hours exploring the fort) and it was now - according to the Dwemer timepiece - almost halfway to the Fifteenth Hour. With a sigh, and a not so polite comment about the foolishness of scholastic types, I dropped my pack and rummaged through it for things I needed and could easily carry. A couple of curative potions and a couple of restorative potions went into the makeshift sling I slung from my shoulder; I took my bow and checked my quiver was full of arrows, and checked that my trusty axe was sharp. I hoped that Sondaale had simply lost track of time while exploring the ruined fortress but, somehow, I doubted that.
I almost gagged as the door opened under my tentative push and a rush of fetid air came out. Hot, sickly, and carrying a faint scent that was familiar - although odour might be a better word than scent. Keeping as close to the wall as I could, I sidled into the building. Red, fitful candlelight flickered at the end of a gently sloping passageway. That wasn't good - anyone entering would be illuminated clearly as they passed in front of the candles and down the ramps I could just make out descending to the floor level below.
THUNK
I back-peddled quickly as a short steel throwing knife clattered onto the floor - having bounced off the wall far too close to my head for comfort. Peering forward and risking another thrown knife (which whipped past my ear with a whirring noise in due course) I took a quick glance into the huge central chamber. Almost directly opposite me, I could see a pair of figures standing on a platform protruding from the wall. One of the figures threw another knife, missing me by a country mile. Hmmm, the candles over there made them excellent targets - backlighting them as they did.
I think I've mentioned before that I'm not brilliant with a bow. If not, I'd like to emphasis the point here by saying that I am not a good archer. So it was a question of who was the more surprised by my first shot. Knocking an arrow, I drew back the bowstring and stepped forward - swinging the arrow-point onto target, releasing, and stepping back all in one smooth, fluid motion. There was a meaty thump, closely followed by a gasp, a metallic clatter and another, much louder, meaty thud.
Risking another quick glance, I saw that the duo of knife-throwers on the platform had become a single knife-thrower. Needless to say, I was unable to repeat my initial shot but did pepper the figure with arrows until one finally hit something vital. There was a splash of red and a gurgling scream as he clutched himself and collapsed onto the platform. Emboldened, I slung my bow over my shoulder and hefted my axe before descending into the gloom below.
The red-tiled ramp led downwards to the main floor of the fort, which was also covered in the same small red tiles. Off to one side I could see a door, at the back of the chamber was a hole smashed into the fort: from the debris, it looked very much like it had been made from outside the building. Despite the shadows, I could see something moving down there. Pausing only to recover my arrow from the eye-socket of the fallen knife-thrower, I walked towards the gaping hole. The grey rock behind the thick walls had a strange, melted look to it but that wasn't my primary concern right at this moment.
The shambling, half-humanoid figure directly in front of me was. The skin, where it wasn't a flaky grey colour, was livid red and looked rubbed raw. One arm and leg were swollen and disfigured, covered in weeping yellow growths. The same pus-filled growths dotted the more normal looking arm and leg too. The face was something I'll never forget: brilliant blue eyes stared out of a bloated ruin of a face. The nose was partially rotted and a huge growth bulged over the right eye. The mouth was a lipless maw in which a few rotting teeth stood like decaying tombstones. This, then, was a Corprus Beast - the final stages of the disease that had driven that pour soul in Berwen's shop to madness.
This wreck of a Mer (or Man, it was impossible to tell) lurched towards me, strands of something best left unidentifiable hanging from it talon-like nails and insane fury in it's eyes. With a silent prayer to whatever Gods might be listening, I braced myself as it made it's slow, tortured way towards me - swinging hard with the axe as it came close. There was a squishing noise as the curved blade buried itself in the side of the creature's head. Wrenching it free, I swung again and again in a fury of disgust and fear. Finally, long after any normal creature would have fallen under such a fusillade of blows, it gave a soft sigh and collapsed, twitched, then lay still. Fighting down an urge to scream, I stepped away carefully circling the thing until I could peer further down the tunnel.
Other than the soft "gloop-gloop" of the molten rock that filled the small defile at the end of the short tunnel, nothing moved down there. Once more circling the rotting mound on the rock floor, I returned to Telasero and moved towards the door. Pushing it open carefully, axe at the ready, I stepped into a vaulted corridor. Ahead of me lay another door while, off to my right, a ramp led upwards. The floor was covered with the same small red tiles that were in the main chamber while the walls were made of some dark material, the blocks fused together in some unknown manner. And over it all hung an invisible miasma, a sense of something being very much off-kilter.
The ramp proved to only lead to the platform where the two knife-throwers had lain in wait. The short hallway and the ramp were covered in slivers of wood - evidence of my poor archery. I returned to the lower level and ventured deeper into the eerie stillness. Several empty chambers and corridors confronted me as I worked my way towards the heart of the fort and the door that now stood in front of me. From behind it I could hear a faint humming noise. Tentatively, I pushed it open and took in the scene that confronted me.
Two huge stone troughs stood in the room, one at each side. There were two doors on each side of the room and, between the massive support columns; I could see a chamber at the extreme end of the room. Chairs and tables had been dragged and piled along the walls. What caught my attention however, were the strange buzzing noise that seemed to emanate from one of the troughs and the bizarre 'altar' I could just make out in the end chamber.
Well, that's the buzzing noise explained - although I rather wish it hadn't been. One of the two stone troughs was filled with odds and ends, stuff that had been discarded: clothing, a small sum of money, a couple of books, and that sort of thing. It was the other trough the buzzing sounds came from - and that was because it was filled with huge chunks of semi-rancid meat. Some of the pieces had a certain shape that, if looked at in the right way, reminded me of... no, I'd really rather not think about what they reminded me of.
Having wiped my mouth and spat out the foul taste, I moved shakily to the altar. There was a large disk at the base of it, at the cardinal points of this circle were more of those red candles. From the centre of the disk rose a three-sided obelisk, each face of which was filled with small niches. In some of these niches were small and grotesque statuettes; there were five in total. A large, round 'font' dominated one of the cardinal points. Like the trough, it too was filled with the same disturbingly shaped hunks of rancid meat. Having seen more than enough, I returned to the main chamber and started examining the chambers off to each side.
"You en-war," the completely naked Dunmer screamed at me as I opened the door. "Time to die defiler." With that, he rushed at me brandishing a heavy looking club. It was obvious he was completely insane. What else would you call it when an unarmoured man armed with the single simplest weapon there is goes up against an armoured opponent whose carrying an axe? I tried to talk him out of attacking me - I didn't really fancy hacking away at a naked and damn' near unarmed man but he was having none of it. Frothing at the mouth (literally), he got close to me and started swinging the club wildly. All the while he was swinging, he was spitting out strange phrases - "The dreamer shall awaken" and "That which was destroyed, rises anew" are the only two that I specifically recall. After that it got a little brutal and messy.
Two of the other chambers contained similarly deranged Dunmer, all naked and armed with clubs or their bare hands. I was trying, very hard, not to draw any parallel between five of these crazy Dunmer and the five statues on the altar. The synchronicity between the two was a little hard to ignore though. The biggest danger in the fourth chamber was a couple of large and hungry looking rats - although the little black and red statuette tucked up one corner gave me a nasty turn.
"Are you Sondaale?" I asked the frightened Altmer that was crouching on the table. She nodded and asked me to get her out of the fort. I was only too happy to oblige. "Stay close Sondaale, we're going to be going at speed."
True to my word, I sprinted through the darkened corridors while Sondaale, carrying a lantern, scurried along behind me. It was a blessed relief when we raced up the ramp and out into the fresh air without let or hindrance. Clasping my knees, I gasped for breath as Sondaale collapsed to her knees and panted heavily. When we'd recovered sufficiently to speak, Sondaale told me she was heading to Molag Mar. From there she intended to go to Ebonheart, thence to Wayrest where, according to her, she intended to stay for a very, very long time. Without another word, she collected her belongings and headed off westwards towards Molag Mar.
Musing that Wayrest was just about as far away from Morrowind Province as it was possible to get, I examined my shoulder. One of the clubs had caught me awkwardly, and I had quite a nasty cut. The darkening skin around the cut suggested that there was going to be one Oblivion of a bruise there too. Wearily, I spoke the incantation "Ex hic absum, ut Balmora." When things had stopped spinning, I found myself in the market square of Balmora. I made my way back to the house in Labour Town and, after drinking a couple of restorative potions, fell gratefully into bed.
The morning was bright and clear as I stepped out of Dura gra-Bol's house and made my way to the 'Eight Plates'. It had become my habit, when in Balmora, to break my fast there. After a brief chat with the patron, I cast a Void-Walk spell and travelled to Sadrith Mora.
As I made my way up from the slave-market, I was stopped by a larger than normal Argonian. He said he was a pilgrim and, when I asked what his pilgrimage was, he replied that he was seeking a saviour for his people. This Argonian even went as far as to state that I might be the saviour he was looking for but, if so, I had a grand destiny to fulfil. That cheered me immensely and kept me chuckling all the way to Wolverine Hall. The only destiny I have is to earn a sizeable sum of money and settle down somewhere comfortable and safe.
Hrundi was pleased to see me and, after expressing his utter lack of surprise at Sondaale's irresponsible behaviour, he paid me five hundred Septims for escorting her and, as he put it, 'keeping her skinny Altmer asse safe'. "Now," he said after I'd scooped the money into my purse, "I've got another wee job lassie, but it's nae one ye're goin' tae like."
I knew immediately that it wasn't - Hrundi's accent had become broader than normal, and that was always a sign that he was under some stress. I indicated that he should continue telling me about the job he had. "It's a bounty," he said, "on a Wood Elf name a' Engaer. Yon haunless bugger is a mercenary frae Master Neloth if ye please. An' we've been given a bounty on him."
"Why is that a problem," I asked. "I mean, I don't like bounty work very much, but it's a necessary job."
"Ach weel," he responded despondently. "See you, this Engaer is a mercenary frae Master Neloth right? Master Neloth as in Telvanni Master Neloth - ye ken, them long-lived buggers that let us wee folk live here under sufferance? Now, hae d'ye think he's goin' tae feel about us when we whack one a' his mercenaries? In three words Sudhendra: blod rasende over!"
"Very angry?" I hazarded.
He grinned and said, "Close enough lassie, close enough."
"Well," I suggested, "why don't we just ignore the bounty?"
"An' let the problem go away? Would nae be that simple lass," he responded. "See, the bounty has been put on Engaer by Arch-Magister Gothren: the head o' the whole House. An' guess what he's going tae be if we dinnae complete the bounty?"
"Three words?" I said cheekily. He laughed aloud at that and nodded.
"Aye. Damned if we do an' damned if we dinnae."
"I'll need some supplies," I said. "A good sharp dagger, a couple of chameleon potions, and some poison." I listed when Hrundi asked me what I needed.
"I cannae help you with the potions or poison lass," he said, "but the dagger? Here, take this." With that he handed me a viciously sharp dagger of a design I'd never seen before, made of a very lightweight, dull grey metal. "Adamantium," he explained when I raised an eyebrow at him. "Very light and takes a wicked sharp edge. As for yer potions? Try old Plebo downstairs. Get yerself a couple o' levitation potions too, from what I hear Engaer is up on the top-level o' the tower. Now, for poisons, I suggest you try..."
"...Dirty Muriel's" I finished for him. He nodded and smiled. I scooped up the dagger and went to make my purchases. I had no trouble getting the requisite potions from the apothecary in the chapel and, after a little haggling; I managed to lay my hands on a small vial of Brown Spider Poison from a shady character in the local hostelry. While not as... immediate as I would have liked, it was virulent enough stuff to stop the heart of a Wood Elf fairly quickly.
My plan had the elegance of simplicity, and it went like clockwork. Almost like clockwork. Downing a levitation potion, I walked air to the top of the tower and touched down on a sort of balcony affair at the top. There was only the once entrance from here - a round wooden door that led into the upper reaches of Tel Naga. Walking up to the door, I swung it open with one hand whilst draining the phial of chameleon potion with the other. Stepping inside, I yelled "Engaer!" at the top of my voice. One of the figures in the chamber to my right spun around and looked for whoever had called him.
Sticking to the shadows (and there were plenty of those in this gloomy place), I raced around behind him and drove the envenomed dagger into the middle of his back. See, elegant and simple? As the Bosmer started to froth at the mouth and convulse, I headed back the way I'd come. Only to have my chameleon potion wear off just at the same moment a large and heavily armoured guard stepped into the doorway. Oh, how the Gods do enjoy their little japes.
"Assassin," he rumbled threateningly.
"No," I said quickly. "Fighters Guild."
"Ahh," this human mountain said slowly. "You must be here after the bounty on Engaer then? Right." And, with that, this walking crag simply turned around and strode off. Even more surprisingly, the room's other two occupants - both of whom had started to draw their weapons - simply sheathed them and turned away as though nothing had happened. I was, to put it mildly, completely taken aback.
"What the frell happened in there?" I asked Hrundi.
He just shrugged and shook his head as he counted out my one thousand Septims bounty money. "Strange people these Telvanni," he said, "with some very odd attitudes to things. I really can't explain it - sometimes they react like you'd expect them to: other times they do something completely inexplicable. Like that.
"Well," he said ruefully, "looks like you've cleaned me out a' work lass. I've got nothing except a wild Kwama-Egg hunt left."
"A what?" I asked, visions of someone wandering through egg-mines picking up eggs going through my mind.
"There's this old tale," Hrundi said, "of a Kwama Queen that lays golden eggs. This queen supposedly lays one gold egg once every hundred years. 'Tis said that the Pudai Mine was found by a lucky young man eight hundred years ago who took some golden eggs and made himself a fortune from them. Now we have a very wealthy Telvanni collector from Necrom who's looking for the seven eggs that the queen has laid since then.
"The problem is, the whole thing is a fairy tale, the sort of thing mothers tell their bairns o' a night."
I laughed and told Hrundi that, should I ever stumble across this lost egg-mine, I'd be sure to bring him back seven golden eggs. We then spoke a little about the situation within the guild. He confirmed that the guild was riddled with Camonna Tong sympathisers, including the Guild-Masters at Balmora and Vivec City. He urged me to be very careful whom I dealt with. Assuring him that I would be, I went to Dirty Muriel's for a libation and a think.
I'd left Balmora because of the Camonna Tong problems there, I reflected as I sipped a glass of Sujamma. So, I wasn't too anxious to run straight to Vivec City and get involved in the subterfuges there. That only left Percius Mercius in Ald'ruhn - and I had a pretty good idea that he'd want me to be out there fighting the Camonna Tong influence in the guild. And that, at the moment, was quite beyond me. Despite my recent improved skills with an axe and my fledgling attempts at magic, I was still woefully under skilled: and likely to be serious outclassed if I went against some of the higher ranking members of the Fighter's Guild. As I sat wondering where, exactly, that left me, I overheard a conversation.
(c)2005 OverrideB1
On to Chapter 2