Days 101 to 110
Day 101:Sadrith Mora
This morning I reported to Skink-in-trees-shade, the guild steward in Sadrith Mora. I think Ranis might be out of her mind. I cannot picture myself as the Archmage of Vvardenfell. I haven't even started getting used to being a Magician, even though she promoted me yesterday. Now I find myself in the wilderness of the grazelands trying to set up a meeting for Skink; a meeting with a wise woman of the Ashlanders. Knowing what I had to go through to speak to a wise woman I am not sure this is a good idea.
I'm not sure anything is a good idea. Caius has not set up a meeting with the dissident priests, and seems to be having some trouble with his contacts in Vivec City. I spoke to him before I left Balmora. I told him about Ranis' grand plan for me. He laughed, and drily said "Well, that will be a unique cover." I didn't think it was funny.
The Ashland tribes of the grazelands seem to have life much easier than the Urshilaku. The hardy grasses stretch away to the horizon, supporting beasts and insects, hunters and herders. They are no more friendly though, at least the Zainab are not.
Skink suggested that the most likely tribe to accept his request would be the Ahemmusa, but the Zainab were closer so I went to their camp first. The Ashkhan, Kaushad, was not interested in any meeting between his wise woman and what he would only refer to as 'this Argonian'. I have no idea what Skink wants to talk to a wise woman about, so I had no way to answer the Ashkhan's questions. They were rhetorical anyway I am sure. "Will this Argonian make the Telvanni deal with us fairly? Make the Empire give us fair price for our goods? Will this Argonian get us a place on the council? Protect us from blighted creatures and outlaws? I have no time for this Argonian."
So the meeting did not go as well as I had hoped. I did hear an interesting rumor in the camp though. The rumor has it that a mad outlander thinks he is the Nerevarine. I did not correct them. I don't think I am the Nerevarine, I just might become the Nerevarine. And I am not mad. I don't think so anyway.
I sleep beneath the stars tonight. Tomorrow I will continue north in search of the Ahemmusa.
Day 102: Outlaw
I am now a fugitive! Fortunately the Telvanni are known more for fighting amongst themselves than for taking collective action. I should be able to slip back into Sadrith Mora and grease enough palms to take care of the problem. I doubt that I will be welcomed at Tel Vos though.
Tel Vos is the home of Master Aryon, a member of the Telvanni Counsel. His tower is a strange hybrid of Imperial stonework and the huge living plant materials that are characteristic of Telvanni construction. It seemed very strange as I approached across the grazelands, and my curiosity got the best of me. I did not realize until I saw the view from one of the towers that the usual cluster of supporting merchants and services is not connected to the tower itself, but lies some distance to the east.
I was in trouble. The Telvanni have clearly identified me. While a wandering mercenary might have been welcome, a magician of the Mage's Guild was not. I wasn't in the town, such as it is. I was in the main tower, where I clearly did not belong. And I was lost.
It seemed like it would be simple to go back down the winding staircase that had brought me to the top of the tower. Not simple enough though. I went out a door that I thought I had come in and found myself on a stone bridge to another tower instead of the ground. I opened the door to turn back, but the sound of boots on stone greeted me from below. Better to cross the bridge and try the other tower it seemed.
Looking back I could have just levitated down and fled without ever going back inside. I wish I had. When I entered the second tower I came face to face with a skeletal warrior. I drew my sword and the skeleton yanked a silver longsword from a ragged scabbard. As the silver blade sprang free papers scattered down the stair from a box the bony hands had dropped. An outraged voice shouted from below; something about the clumsiness of skeletons. A Telvanni guard, easily identified by his distinctive helm, turned the corner.
I had no way to know that the skeleton on the stair was merely summoned to cart a box for a guard with more magica than muscle. I really had no desire to fight the skeleton, or the guard, or the bonewalker that he rapidly conjured, but there was no way out but to fight it out. Fortunately the narrow stair kept the bizarre trio from getting behind me and I succeeded in cutting them down. As the guard fell in a heap I activated my amulet and blended into the shadows.
Other guards heard the commotion and were circling cautiously up the steps from below, so I went up. All I could do was hope there would be some way out. There was a door, thankfully. I paused, and dispelled the chameleon spell from my amulet. I reasoned that the stairwell had contained the sounds of conflict, but anyone on the other side of the door could not help but wonder at it swinging open. People who arrive cloaked in spells of concealment are seldom greeted as friendly visitors. Better to walk in nonchalantly. If it had led outside I could have reactivated the amulet and levitated away. No such luck.
"Here to see the museum outlander?" came the gruff greeting as I entered. "Yes, it is all dwarf make. You can look, but don't touch."
I was quite fascinated by the various armor pieces, weapons, and other artifacts that lie on various tables in the chamber, as well as a complete steam centurion that glowered from a corner. I also didn't want to look too hurried, as there were numerous heavily armored Telvanni retainers loitering about. But I had to get through before my pursuers burst through the door. I almost made it. A long straight stair descended ahead as the door burst open at the far end of the room. I took the steps three and four at a time.
A dunmer in a complete set of Dwemer armor came to look up the stairs. I shot past just as the cries of 'stop him' rang down from above. I swept across the chamber and crashed through a door. Thankfully I emerged into the sunlight. With quick words I activated my levitation boots and the amulet of shadows as I threw myself over a parapet and floated to safety.
I skirted the town and continued north. I should be very near the Ahemmusa camp. Tonight I am cold, but dare not light a fire. There may well be pursuit.
Day 103: Apprentice wise woman
Skink-in-trees-shade will get to meet a wise woman; almost a wise woman anyway. Hopefully Minabi will be sufficient for whatever it is he needs. Sinnammu, who is the actual wise woman of the Ahemmusa clan does not seem impressed with Minabi, but she is the best I can come up with.
When I arrived in the Ahemmusa camp I was met with more civility than I am accustommed to from Ashlanders. They are definately a more peaceful tribe. Sinnammu is a very highly regarded wise woman, even among the other clans, and she sets a tone of tranquility that is obvious throughout the camp. I think living in the pastoral grazelands instead of on the harsh ash slopes of Red Mountain probably helps as well. I don't know why Skink thought this would be a good place to set up a meeting for him though. Sinnammu is very highly regarded, and meeting with an Argonian mage, even if he is a guild steward, would fall far beneath her.
She was willing to send her apprentice Minabi though. She also doesn't seem too concerned about whether Minabi ever comes back. If she does come back I suspect she had better have gotten a different view of outlanders from her experiences. If I hadn't come along and interrupted her punishment she would still be stuck in the Favel Ancestral Tomb, with no likelihood of ever completing her assigned task.
I found Minabi crying in the tomb. I'm impressed that she actually got there. Following Sinnammu's directions from the camp and her advice I managed to skirt a small encampment that she warned was the home of some disenfranchised clan members who would certainly attack me. Three disillusioned surly Ashlanders she told me to avoid; but her directions led right through the heart of a huge complex of Daedric ruins. Maybe she thinks the ruins are still abandoned. They aren't. It is a thriving metropolis of trouble.
I crept through the ruins cloaked by my amulet, trying to avoid conflict; a failed affort. At least when my spell did not conceal me from a passing Dremora I had time to get my back against a sturdy wall of intricately carved stone. The dremora are Daedric servants. Their spirit gives very little subastance to a physical body, but conjures a full set of Daedric armor to encase the wispy form. My own Daedric blade was a match for this heavy mail, and I was able to dispatch the creature back to the Daedric plane. My own armor suffered greatly from the Dremora's weapon; a longsword. After the battle this mighty Daedric blade was all that remained of the creature. I grabbed it and fled, using a feather spell to support the great weight of it. The ruins are home to a host of Daedric and elemental monsters. I hid the sword in some bushes and made my escape, but it is far too valuable to abandon. I will have to go back for it tomorrow. I fear I may be too much like my adopted father; greed may be the death of me too.
Compared to the effort required to get there Minabi's task at the tomb seemed relatively easy, but she had not been able to get it done. The restless spirit of Kanit Ashurnisammis refused all her efforts to appease him. Perhaps as an ancestor of the tribe the ghost felt compelled to sustain her punishment. In any event, she could not leave the tomb until the spirit was settled, so I settled it. Cajoling and charms had not worked for her, but an enchanted Daedric blade is a great persuader. I hope Kanit is resting comfortably with the rest of the ancestors in the plane of the dead.
Once the ghost was dispatched Minabi was more forthcoming about how she had been given this unpleasant task. It explained some of the things Sinnammu had said about her attitude towards outlanders needing to change, though personally I like her attitude A runaway Telvanni slave had fallen into the even worse circumstance of being captured by the clan. Relations with the Telvanni are rocky at best, so returning the slave was not considered. Most of the warriors were in favor of making a rug out of him. Impressed by the slave's tales of the warm sands of his distant homeland, Minabi had helped him escape. Compassion for outlanders is apparently not an important characteristic to look for in a prospective wise woman.
I returned to the camp, giving the ruins a wide berth. Sinnammu was pleased that the spirit was sent to its rest, and also that I was willing to tell her the truth; that I had done it not Minabi. She will arrange appropriate transport to Sadrith Mora for her wayward apprentice.
Day 104: Ruin of the Daedric cult
I can see the attraction of being a follower of the bad Daedra. The leaders of the cult are apparently well rewarded with rare and hugely valuable Daedric weapons. They have security and comforts provided by elemental and Daedric servants. I don't know if it would be worth it though, having to live in the dark, damp tunnels under the ruins like they did. Not a great place to live; definitely not a good place to die.
Talking to the Ahemmusa last night and this morning it was clear that nothing good came from the nearby ruins. The cult there was a source of evil and misery, nothing more. They were willing to give me a hearty breakfast and a pat on the back, but wanted no part in any attack on the cult. Since they expected failure they didn't want to upset their bad neighbors. The assumption was that I would be dead so it didn't matter who was upset with me.
Once again I crept through the jumble of fallen stone. This time I did not avoid the atronachs; elemental energies summoned into humanoid forms. I crept close, struck quickly, and melted back into the shadows before help could arrive, usually grabbing a handful of the residual salts such creatures leave behind when they are dispatched back to the plane from whence they came. Daedric guardians met a similar fate; clannfears; green lizardlike demons who hop about and strike with their razor sharp beaks; and another dremora. I reclaimed the Daedric longsword from its hiding place, and added this dremora's shortsword to make a pile right inside the door to the inner shrine.
A long tunnel coiled down into the darkness. I dared not show a light, so I cast a nighteye spell and pressed onward. The tunnel wound down until it met the groundwater. I levitated through the ruined chambers, pausing on fallen blocks that broke the surface of the stagnant water. The water did not appear to be deep, but I did not want a splash to announce my presence.
The leaders of the cult were gathered in the main shrine, swearing their fealty to a bad Daedra represented by a great idol that towered above the knee deep water. I let my levitation spell expire, opting for a water walking spell which would last longer. Moving freely on the surface gave me an advantage over the heavily armored swordsmen, who were hampered by the water. Swordplay is more about footwork than most people realize, and the slashing style of the wakizashi was perfect for the situation. They were skilled foes, and I would not have wanted to stand toe to toe in a match of chops, thrusts, and parries. The water was deep enough to cover them once they were fallen. As I said, not a good place to die.
I gathered all the heavy Daedric weapons and valuable armor into a bundle, with great expenditure of sweat, and feather spells to lighten the loads. The corpses of the leaders I left on the altar at the great statues feet. Partly that was a warning to any others who might opt to follow the ways of the bad Daedra, but also as an honor. They were skilled opponents who deserved better than to be left in the murky water.
Far too heavily burdened to walk anywhere I cast my recall spell and returned home to Ahnassi. She is becoming accustomed to me popping into existence in the hallway. There was a blanket spread on the floor at the spot of my magical mark. It was perfect for my arrival; wet, wounded, and laden with treasures.
Day 105: Skink's respect
I got up this morning with no desire to face the day. Curled in Ahnassi's arms, her tail wrapped around my legs, I could have just chucked the whole world; Caius and his intrigues about the Nerevarine, the Mage's Guild and our incompetent Archmage, all of it. But I did get up and face another day. Somehow I'm sure Caius, Ranis, the Emperor, the Dark Brotherhood, or some other representative of fate would have found me anyway if I didn't.
I did enjoy a leisurely breakfast with Ahnassi, and Nelos and Maurrie at the Halfway before setting out. When Maurrie heard that I was heading into Telvanni territory she fairly begged me to stop in Tel Aruhn and see her friend Emusette. I agreed to do that, and I'm glad I did. A friendly face in Telvanni territory has taken on tremendous value. Emusette is a very capable mage. She treads a fine line. She is not a retainer of the Telvanni, but is not a member of the guild either. By living in Telvanni territory she does not draw the jealous attentions of the guild, and by not actually joining House Telvanni she avoids the infighting that seems a major part of their efforts. She sells potions and charms, and does training in spellcraft. I learned a little from her, but there was not much she could teach me in my specialty; the school of alteration magics. Perhaps I could find other independent trainers in the Telvanni villages who could teach me more. I may not have the skills to challenge the Archmage, but no one in the guild halls can teach me anything in my field any more either.
I had hoped that Skink-in-trees-shade could, and would, but his specialty is in the school of illusion, like my Blade friend Nine-toes. I suppose that comes more readily to Argonians, and the alteration of the elements is less important to them in their native swamps. They can breath water naturally, and have no interest in walking on it or levitating over it.
Skink definitely would train me if he could. He was extremely pleased with Minabi, who had already arrived by the time I made my way to Sadrith Mora this morning. She seemed very happy in the guild hall. I suspect this visit will have exactly the opposite effect that Sinnammu was looking for. Instead of developing a healthy distrust for Imperial ways Minabi may very well join the guild and never go back. Besides being a very skilled illusionist Skink is extremely charming. It doesn't take long with him to get past the scaly exterior and see that he is a good leader with a good heart.
He has been talking to Ranis. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say listening to Ranis. "There are those who say you could be the Archmage Arvil Bren," he said to me. "Trebonius knows nothing but destruction, which does not serve us well, but it would be wise to remember that he knows it very well indeed. We hear that you are as much warrior as mage though, and could pop the bag of wind with your spear quite handily." As seems to often be the case I had no idea what to say. He gave a low toned hiss that I had learned from Nine-toes was the Argonian equivalent of laughter. "That I must admit I would like to see, but we will keep that to ourselves for now."
"We were talking to Ranis about you to see if you are suitable for another delicate task that we have to get taken care of," he continued, changing the subject abruptly. Argonians always refer to themselves as 'we', and they do shift topics as rapidly as if there were more than one mind working in their reptilian heads. "She said that in many ways you are ideal for the task, but it is clear that we must do some more checking of facts first. One of our members has fled Telvanni territory. Reportedly she has taken up the dark arts of necromancy. If so that reflects badly on the guild and we should have her killed. But this is Telvanni territory, and there are many reasons to flee, and many who may not tell the true reasons after. Ranis says you would be very capable of taking care of this problem, but that we must be sure there is actually a necromancer to be dispatched. Let us make sure Arvil Bren. We will let you know."
So I am in Skink's good graces, and have no new duties to perform. It was the perfect opportunity to take the brief sail to Tel Aruhn and meet Emusette. Her training has given me in an evening what would have taken days of hard practice, and her hospitality is a refreshing break from the Telvanni. I cleared up my misunderstanding in Tel Vos with on officer of the guard before leaving Sadrith Mora, but there is a deep hostility towards the Mage's Guild that I will just have to live with.
Day 106: Pilgrimage progress
Emusette gave me a letter to deliver to Maurrie this morning, congratulating her on her romance with Nelos no doubt. Funny that there was a time that Maurrie thought Emusette and I could make a couple. Ahnassi was happy to see me appear once again in the hall. Very happy when she saw no signs of conflict or combat. She does worry.
With no pressing business for the guild until Skink verifies the necromancy charges in Sadrith Mora, and still no word from Caius, I again considered just spending some time at home. But my father always said that the idle pocket deserves to get picked, so I am again on the road. Finding a master of the school of alteration would serve me well, but even my father's wisdom could not drive me back into Telvanni territory. Instead I returned to the temple in Ald-ruhn.
Tuls Valen was pleased to see me, but did question my devotion. Much to my surprise it has been almost a month since I started the Pilgrimages of the Seven Graces. I completed three; humility, valor, and generosity. Despite seeing that it seems these graces are in short supply with the temple hierarchy the pilgrimages did me good personally, and I am eager to continue. Next is the pilgrimage to the shrine of courtesy, and I set out with a light step bound once again for Vivec City.
The cross country trek is becoming familiar, though I try to follow at least a slightly different path each time. Today I left Ald-ruhn on a trail headed due east, straight towards Red Mountain. This branched a couple times, then the main path appears to have fallen into disuse. I quickly saw why. It runs straight through the ghostfence. Beyond the shimmering magical barricade I could see that the path is nearly obliterated from the constant swirl of the ashstorms that cloak the crater region.
I followed the ghostfence to the south and picked up another path, then dropped into the Foyada Mamaca. By the time I found a way up the opposite side the afternoon was waning, and I was considering another night out of doors with no enthusiasm. Then I saw the towers in the distance. The mountaintop ruins of Arkngthand loomed against the westering sun. Skirting lava pools and slicing cliff racers with my wakizashi I hurried onward, the shelter afforded by the ruins too opportune to surrender. Once the sun set and the twilight thickened the cliff racers came out in force. Gliding out of the near darkness they could attack with great effect, but my armor is sturdy and I was seldom injured; never so badly that the healing energies of the lifetaker blade could not keep up.
I reached the ruins and found the entry crank in the dark. Initially I planned to take over the empty quarters of Creto, the boss of Orvas Dren's expedition of looters who I battled for the Dwemer cube. My plan changed when I saw signs of recent traffic at the entrance. I am holed up in the main entry chamber, on top of a tower where I should be safe from discovery. In the morning I will investigate before I continue on to Vivec.
Day 107: Return to Arkngthand
I am actually surprised at myself. Edwinna has sent me to numerous Dwemer ruins. I've explored some that I just stumbled across. None of them compare to the magnificence of Arkngthand, but somehow I just never made the time to return until now.
I spent the morning listening and watching. There was a large expedition here, and they were cautious. From bits and pieces I put together that for many of them this was their second time in Arkngthand. They were here with Creto's team the first time. They had fled in the wake of his death.
Speculation seemed the favorite topic of conversation. Some contended that Creto was a victim of an Imperial Legion raid, citing the artifacts which had disappeared as evidence of a very human force. Others believed that the spirits of the Dwemer had reclaimed their relics. A great locked door deep in the labyrinth led to passages as yet unexplored, and could provide a home to any number of spirits and mechanisms. Some from the first expedition scoffed at that; asking how a line of clanking centurions could have gotten past them through the lower tunnels; a valid question.
There was a Cyrodiil woman in charge. She was one of the veterans from the former expedition. She expressed no opinion on the various theories, letting the speculation go as long as it didn't interfere with the work. Her only input came when one of the workers suggested that the Thieve's Guild could have been responsible. She paused to listen. The theorist continued, noting that the guild was in a gang war with the Cammona Tong, and the sponsor of the expedition, Orvas Dren, was connected with the Tong. That's where she cut in. "It would be wise not to speak of our patron's connections. If you are wrong and he takes offense you will be out of a job. If you are right and he takes offense that would likely be worse, wouldn't it?" Chastened, the worker went quietly about his work. He couldn't know that he was half right. Creto was indeed a casualty of a gang war; my private war with the Cammona Tong. I should have let him know before he died.
When I set out on this pilgrimage I opted to carry a spear. They are handy as a walking stick between battles. The spear I chose I call my Dwemer Icepick. I enchanted it with a frost spell to do extra damage to my foes. Strange that I should happen to return here with it. I found it here in the first place. Orvas Dren will have no veterans if he mounts a third expedition. This time I left no survivors. I don't know of anyone who can tell the make of the spear from the wounds it leaves, but if anyone can today will surely enhance the legend of Arkngthand. Another expedition to Arkngthand ended in disaster, with a litter of corpses done in by a Dwemer spear.
If Dren does send another group, they will find nothing of any great value. Once all the looters were slain I opened the door to the depths and explored every passage. I didn't find all that much, but what I found I took. Nothing from Arkngthand will contribute to the cause of the Cammona Tong.
Day 108: Assignment from the Archmage
I am now so deeply entangled in the politics of the Mage's Guild that I wonder if it can ever be unraveled. I have an assignment from Archmage Trebonius himself. I should have just stayed at a cornerclub instead of the guild hall. Vivec is huge, there must be a dozen places I could have rented a bed.
I made the trek down from Pelagiad this morning. I definitely did enough walking to meet the intent of the pilgrimage. The recall spell from Arkngthand to Pelagiad didn't really shorten the journey very much, and I only did it because I was loaded down with Dwemer relics. I guess most pilgrims don't get to sleep in their own beds at night, but once again I have to tell myself that other pilgrims might have taken the pilgrimages from the temple in Vivec City, which would reduce them to a mere walk outside; three of them anyway. The shrine of courtesy is the last of the seven grace shrines that is in Vivec City. I think for the last three I will be happy to be starting from Ald-ruhn.
When I arrived this afternoon I went to the temple to prepare myself for the visit to the shrine. Getting here was just the first part of the journey. Actually reaching this shrine will be more challenging than the previous three. The shrine is located in the center of what is called the 'puzzle canal'; a maze of canals beneath the palace. Just finding the center may take some extensive wandering, and rumor has it that the canals are home to Daedric monsters who guard the approaches to the shrine. I'm not too sure about that part though. The guiding text; 'The Pilgrim's Path' mentions that there is a Dremora at the shrine itself, and I am hoping that Dremora is the source of the rumors.
The Dremora is eternally bound to the shrine, and is named Krazzt. I am looking forward to meeting him. Without joining a Daedra cult opportunities to speak face to face with such a Daedric servant are rare indeed. Krazzt is there to reenact Vivec's encounter with the bad Daedra Mehunes Dagon. The shrine of courtesy commemorates that encounter, in which Vivec gave the Daedra a silver longsword rather than fight an unarmed foe. Even among enemies there is honor, and Krazzt represents the Daedra in honoring the shrine. What he does with the longswords I can't guess.
Following my studies I continued my preparations; addressing an obvious need. Krazzt will do his part, but clearly I will need to provide a silver longsword. Had I known I would have recovered one from the skeletal guardians of the Urshilaku burial caverns, or from some other tomb that I have visited. Tombs full of skeletal guardians are not in short supply in Vvardenfell. Of course neither are armorers and I could probably just buy a sword that would serve the purpose, but the familiar abandoned tombs beneath the foreign quarter appealed to me. Not only did I claim the silver longsword that I need, I charged three soul gems with the powerful life forces of bonelords. I was very pleased with the source I chose for the sword; if only I had done as well choosing a bed for the night.
I arrived at the guild hall too late for dinner, and even though the locals are not as chilly in their reception as they have been in the past there was still no interest in helping me scrounge a meal..Then Trebonius started in on me.
"On another mission for Ranis?" he asked. "I'm sure she was pleased to have her spy, especially since you found him here."
"Ranis is very watchful of the Telvanni," I countered. "Being a Dunmer herself she knows their ways and doesn't trust them. I've been over in Telvanni territory myself lately, and there is no doubt they hate the guild. They made that clear at every turn."
"Telvanni territory; running errands for Skink no doubt. Seems you do a lot of favors for everyone Arvil; everyone but me. For me, you investigate my advisors." The tension in the room was getting thicker with every word, and Skink's comment about Trebonius' command of destruction magic came unbidden to my mind. I was fixing a sandwich. Had my spear been ready in my hands I'd have felt more at ease.
"Is there anything you need done Trebonius? I could look for a Dunmer mage to replace Tiram Gadar for you." I said it with all the courtesy I could muster, thanking the living gods of the tribunal for my afternoon's studies. Veins popped out in Trebonius' neck, and one pulsed across his forehead. I noticed that the rest of the headquarters staff were listening, some holding their breath.
His voice dropped to an icy tone. "Thank you," he replied, the courtesy just as forced as my own had been. "That would be beneath a magician who has shot up through the ranks as rapidly as you. I have a task more appropriate for your rank. We need to know what happened to the Dwarves. Find out."
Just like that one of the greatest mysteries in the entire history of the Empire became my problem to solve.
Day 109: Vivec's glorious water
I am sleeping again in the guild hall. Not that I feel terribly welcome, but I didn't want to give the staff the impression that Trebonius had succeeded in sending me packing. When I walked in he challenged me immediately. "Found the Dwarves yet?"
"No," I replied evenly.
"Then what are you doing back here? They aren't here." he challenged.
"This seems as good a place to look for answers as any Trebonius. Plenty of very knowledgeable mage's about that may be able to give me a clue. You for instance. Where would you start?" I know Trebonius is no researcher. He is a battlemage, not a scholar.
"Ah....er...good thinking Arvil," he stammered. "You are right. The staff here is top notch. I am Archmage of Vvardenfell though and if I had time to sort out your little question I'd have done so, not given it to you." He turned on his heel and stalked into his chambers. Courtesy. The timing of this pilgrimage could not have been better. I am giving Trebonius nothing to charge me with, but gaining the respect of the headquarters mages in leaps and bounds. All without even beginning to think about the disappearance of the Dwemer.
All I thought about today was finding my way through the puzzle canal. The maze of passages is certainly confusing. They all look pretty much the same; arched stone tunnels with canals flowing down the center. Fortunately the rumor of Daedric servants guarding the place did turn out to be exaggeration, unless rats are serving the Daedra. There were plenty of rats.
The real puzzle came when I did find the center of the maze. At the heart of the puzzle canal is a great pool. I don't know if it is the source for the canals or if they feed into it somehow, but there is a lot of water; the water of Vivec's glory according to the inscription on a monument in the center. The monument stands on a platform rising above the waters of the great chamber. Stairs lead up to the platform on three sides. The fourth side faces a great opening in the outer wall, which is blocked by a field of pulsing energies that reminded me of the ghostfence. I levitated across, but could find no way through. The only clue was inscribed on the obelisk on the platform: "Breathe the waters of his glory and the way is made clear".
I sat on the top step and looked at the water. Waters of his glory? I had to assume this pool was the water, but when I fell into the pool upon entering the chamber I had cast my water breathing spell to walk to the stairs. I had already 'breathed the water' and no path had become clear. My previous pilgrimages played through my mind. Humility, daring, generosity; could they help me here? I walked into the water unprotected by spells and took a deep breath. I was sure that I was drowning, but I wasn't. I suppose since I've obviously never drowned I have no way of knowing if it would really be like that or not. In any event I did not drown.
When I emerged from the water the barrier was cleared from the opening in the wall, and a bridge extended across from the platform. I marveled at the show of power. The bridge was not some wispy construct, but seemed to be solid stone. To create that much stone out of thin air in an instant; I shuddered at the thought. Looking back, I have no way to be sure, but it seems more feasible to think the bridge was there all along, veiled by illusion.
I entered the protected chamber and climbed another massive staircase. At the top of the stairs I met Krazzt. The Dremora was courteous, as could only be expected I suppose. "Is that sword for me?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied, as I handed it over. "Without it would you be unarmed?"
"Such is my fate," he said. "Some come here who are not honorable, and they dispatch me to the realm of Daedra; but I return. Some feel the need to battle me after giving me a sword, as Vivic battled Mehunes Dagon. Some of those win. Some of those lose. No matter; I end up back here. All that you need to do to complete the pilgrimage and receive the blessing is read the inscription there." He pointed to a shrine that stood near the back wall of his chamber.
I read. Once again the powerful magic of the Tribunal Temple impressed me. A water breathing spell, combined with a spell to give free movement in water fell upon me. I turned to Krazzt. "If this lasts as long as the other blessings I could swim to the mainland."
"Perhaps you should. The power beneath Red Mountain stirs. The dremora have respect for the tribunal, particularly Vivec, and I am here in representation of that, but the Daedra have not forgotten the ashy taste of defeat. War is coming outlander. Swim home while you can.
I shook hands with the Daedric wisp contained in the mighty armor. He did not remove his gauntlet, obviously.
I didn't swim to the mainland. I did swim around the bay surrounding Vivec City for the rest of the day. The freedom of movement was amazing, my armor felt buoyant, and I could swim as easily as walk. The trail of slaughterfish left in my wake was a testament to the difference powerful magic can make. As the surface of the water overhead darkened I crawled ashore near the docks and crossed the bridge into the foreign quarter canton.
Day 110: Getting nowhere fast
I like sleeping at home. It doesn't seem to get these pilgrimages done though. Once again I have spent the day afoot, only to arrive home long after midnight; boneweary and further from my destination than I have been since I woke up this morning.
Last night I took the opportunity to check with all the mage's in the guild hall regarding the disappearance of the Dwemer. No one really knows anything, but there were some good theories. That was not the only benefit of the conversations. As Ranis predicted, the staff here would welcome anyone who could supplant Trebonius. Not that I openly forwarded the idea that I could; but their contempt for the pompous Archmage could not have been hidden if they had tried. For the most part they did not bother trying. Most of them openly said that since I don't have to report back to Vivec City any time soon I should just ignore the assignment. Over breakfast I again left Trebonius twisting in the political wind.
"I see you have opted for a free meal rather than getting an early start on your mission," he grumbled as he entered the dining hall.
"Ah, but I have been working on it Trebonius," I replied silkily. "Although most would think looking for the lost dwarves to be a fool's errand I am certainly willing to pursue it for you. I've spoken to everyone here already, and unless you have thought of something to add I'll be headed for Ald-ruhn next. Edwinna is quite a scholaron the subject as I'm sure you are aware. Oddly enough I recently acquired a book that may serve as a translation key for the Dwemer language. I may actually be closer to uncovering the secret than it appears; since I must admit it looks like I'm doing nothing but enjoying my breakfast." Obviously, the expression 'fool's errand' would normally refer to the fool on the errand in question, but from the smirks around the table it was clear another meaning had crossed at least most of the agile minds present. From the purple blotches on Trebonius' neck it was clear he got it as well; but roasting a magician at the breakfast table for something he might have meant would be a pretty far leap. Before he could gather himself to continue the baiting I rose from my seat. "I must away to Ald-ruhn. Pleasure all." I walked quickly down the hall to the guild guide platform.
For all my posturing I really have no idea how I'm going to resolve the question of the Dwemer. I have two large tomes written in Dwemer, and the book 'Hanging Garden' which is apparently translated to old Eldmeris. This is an improvement, but slight. No one at all can read Dwemer. No one I know can read Eldmeris.
Anyway, I wasn't actually planning to solve the riddle today. I was planning on continuing the pilgrimages of the seven graces. I checked in with Tuls Valen at the temple in Ald-ruhn and headed for Gnissis to view the ash mask of Vivec at the shrine of justice. I had not gone far to the west of the city when the rising wind shifted to my back, blowing from Red Mountain. It is an ill wind that blows down those ashy slopes.
By mid afternoon I was swallowed in blowing ash and gave up all hope of making a direct run to Gnissis. Mostly I just wanted to reach the West Gash, where the grasses would limit the dust somewhat, or at least keep it from thickening. When the grasslands came underfoot the storm did indeed ease somewhat, allowing me to recognize some landmarks of my previous travels. I knew the West Gash has plenty of caves, caverns and mines. I hoped to find one unoccupied that I could shelter in. My fate does not run to ease however, it runs more to fortune in a literal sense.
The thugs and brigands who occupied the cave I took shelter in were not very well organized. Perhaps they thought their numbers and reputation would keep any travelers away. Unfortunately I knew neither. Had they been reasonable I would have paid them some sum of gold for the shelter of their cave, but of course their door guards attacked me on sight. They had no system for backing up those worthies, and I cast a spell of silence over the area to avoid any alarms while I dispatched them.
The cave amounted to a long tunnel, swelling every so often into a chamber. The occupants of each chamber seemed almost independent of the others in the band, and without a concerted rush none were a match for the Daedric Lifetaker that I am becoming fairly adept at wielding. In each cavern there were bedrolls and chests and crates of loot, but little of great value. Some of the thugs, particularly the door guards, were thoroughly armored with quality steel and even more valuable bonemold, but I was not willing to gather more than I could comfortably carry. I wasn't willing until I reached the deepest cavern and met what I assume was the leader of the ragtag band. Over the long life of a Dunmer warrior many things can happen, and the leader of a poorly organized mob of cut-throats today may have been something far different during his earlier days. I'm sure that was true of this man. His armor is too finely crafted.
The plates are inlaid with the volcanic stone called ebony. Raw ebony sells for twenty gold pieces to the pound on the black market. In its raw form it is considered property of the Empire, which controls all mining, so the black market is the only source, other than Imperial armorers. Whether this Dunmer had received the armor from the Empire for some previous service I have no way of knowing. Whoever the armorer was they possessed great skill. Without even considering the workmanship the armor is valuable, the craftsmanship involved makes it nearly priceless.
Priceless, and far too heavy to carry all the way to Gnissis. The cave would serve as shelter, but at the dictates of my greed for the armor I had to teleport home. Ahnassi's eyes again flew wide at the sight of yet another treasure for my collection. This ebony armor is undoubtedly worth more than the house and all of its contents. My collection of Daedric weapons excluded of course.
This morning I reported to Skink-in-trees-shade, the guild steward in Sadrith Mora. I think Ranis might be out of her mind. I cannot picture myself as the Archmage of Vvardenfell. I haven't even started getting used to being a Magician, even though she promoted me yesterday. Now I find myself in the wilderness of the grazelands trying to set up a meeting for Skink; a meeting with a wise woman of the Ashlanders. Knowing what I had to go through to speak to a wise woman I am not sure this is a good idea.
I'm not sure anything is a good idea. Caius has not set up a meeting with the dissident priests, and seems to be having some trouble with his contacts in Vivec City. I spoke to him before I left Balmora. I told him about Ranis' grand plan for me. He laughed, and drily said "Well, that will be a unique cover." I didn't think it was funny.
The Ashland tribes of the grazelands seem to have life much easier than the Urshilaku. The hardy grasses stretch away to the horizon, supporting beasts and insects, hunters and herders. They are no more friendly though, at least the Zainab are not.
Skink suggested that the most likely tribe to accept his request would be the Ahemmusa, but the Zainab were closer so I went to their camp first. The Ashkhan, Kaushad, was not interested in any meeting between his wise woman and what he would only refer to as 'this Argonian'. I have no idea what Skink wants to talk to a wise woman about, so I had no way to answer the Ashkhan's questions. They were rhetorical anyway I am sure. "Will this Argonian make the Telvanni deal with us fairly? Make the Empire give us fair price for our goods? Will this Argonian get us a place on the council? Protect us from blighted creatures and outlaws? I have no time for this Argonian."
So the meeting did not go as well as I had hoped. I did hear an interesting rumor in the camp though. The rumor has it that a mad outlander thinks he is the Nerevarine. I did not correct them. I don't think I am the Nerevarine, I just might become the Nerevarine. And I am not mad. I don't think so anyway.
I sleep beneath the stars tonight. Tomorrow I will continue north in search of the Ahemmusa.
Day 102: Outlaw
I am now a fugitive! Fortunately the Telvanni are known more for fighting amongst themselves than for taking collective action. I should be able to slip back into Sadrith Mora and grease enough palms to take care of the problem. I doubt that I will be welcomed at Tel Vos though.
Tel Vos is the home of Master Aryon, a member of the Telvanni Counsel. His tower is a strange hybrid of Imperial stonework and the huge living plant materials that are characteristic of Telvanni construction. It seemed very strange as I approached across the grazelands, and my curiosity got the best of me. I did not realize until I saw the view from one of the towers that the usual cluster of supporting merchants and services is not connected to the tower itself, but lies some distance to the east.
I was in trouble. The Telvanni have clearly identified me. While a wandering mercenary might have been welcome, a magician of the Mage's Guild was not. I wasn't in the town, such as it is. I was in the main tower, where I clearly did not belong. And I was lost.
It seemed like it would be simple to go back down the winding staircase that had brought me to the top of the tower. Not simple enough though. I went out a door that I thought I had come in and found myself on a stone bridge to another tower instead of the ground. I opened the door to turn back, but the sound of boots on stone greeted me from below. Better to cross the bridge and try the other tower it seemed.
Looking back I could have just levitated down and fled without ever going back inside. I wish I had. When I entered the second tower I came face to face with a skeletal warrior. I drew my sword and the skeleton yanked a silver longsword from a ragged scabbard. As the silver blade sprang free papers scattered down the stair from a box the bony hands had dropped. An outraged voice shouted from below; something about the clumsiness of skeletons. A Telvanni guard, easily identified by his distinctive helm, turned the corner.
I had no way to know that the skeleton on the stair was merely summoned to cart a box for a guard with more magica than muscle. I really had no desire to fight the skeleton, or the guard, or the bonewalker that he rapidly conjured, but there was no way out but to fight it out. Fortunately the narrow stair kept the bizarre trio from getting behind me and I succeeded in cutting them down. As the guard fell in a heap I activated my amulet and blended into the shadows.
Other guards heard the commotion and were circling cautiously up the steps from below, so I went up. All I could do was hope there would be some way out. There was a door, thankfully. I paused, and dispelled the chameleon spell from my amulet. I reasoned that the stairwell had contained the sounds of conflict, but anyone on the other side of the door could not help but wonder at it swinging open. People who arrive cloaked in spells of concealment are seldom greeted as friendly visitors. Better to walk in nonchalantly. If it had led outside I could have reactivated the amulet and levitated away. No such luck.
"Here to see the museum outlander?" came the gruff greeting as I entered. "Yes, it is all dwarf make. You can look, but don't touch."
I was quite fascinated by the various armor pieces, weapons, and other artifacts that lie on various tables in the chamber, as well as a complete steam centurion that glowered from a corner. I also didn't want to look too hurried, as there were numerous heavily armored Telvanni retainers loitering about. But I had to get through before my pursuers burst through the door. I almost made it. A long straight stair descended ahead as the door burst open at the far end of the room. I took the steps three and four at a time.
A dunmer in a complete set of Dwemer armor came to look up the stairs. I shot past just as the cries of 'stop him' rang down from above. I swept across the chamber and crashed through a door. Thankfully I emerged into the sunlight. With quick words I activated my levitation boots and the amulet of shadows as I threw myself over a parapet and floated to safety.
I skirted the town and continued north. I should be very near the Ahemmusa camp. Tonight I am cold, but dare not light a fire. There may well be pursuit.
Day 103: Apprentice wise woman
Skink-in-trees-shade will get to meet a wise woman; almost a wise woman anyway. Hopefully Minabi will be sufficient for whatever it is he needs. Sinnammu, who is the actual wise woman of the Ahemmusa clan does not seem impressed with Minabi, but she is the best I can come up with.
When I arrived in the Ahemmusa camp I was met with more civility than I am accustommed to from Ashlanders. They are definately a more peaceful tribe. Sinnammu is a very highly regarded wise woman, even among the other clans, and she sets a tone of tranquility that is obvious throughout the camp. I think living in the pastoral grazelands instead of on the harsh ash slopes of Red Mountain probably helps as well. I don't know why Skink thought this would be a good place to set up a meeting for him though. Sinnammu is very highly regarded, and meeting with an Argonian mage, even if he is a guild steward, would fall far beneath her.
She was willing to send her apprentice Minabi though. She also doesn't seem too concerned about whether Minabi ever comes back. If she does come back I suspect she had better have gotten a different view of outlanders from her experiences. If I hadn't come along and interrupted her punishment she would still be stuck in the Favel Ancestral Tomb, with no likelihood of ever completing her assigned task.
I found Minabi crying in the tomb. I'm impressed that she actually got there. Following Sinnammu's directions from the camp and her advice I managed to skirt a small encampment that she warned was the home of some disenfranchised clan members who would certainly attack me. Three disillusioned surly Ashlanders she told me to avoid; but her directions led right through the heart of a huge complex of Daedric ruins. Maybe she thinks the ruins are still abandoned. They aren't. It is a thriving metropolis of trouble.
I crept through the ruins cloaked by my amulet, trying to avoid conflict; a failed affort. At least when my spell did not conceal me from a passing Dremora I had time to get my back against a sturdy wall of intricately carved stone. The dremora are Daedric servants. Their spirit gives very little subastance to a physical body, but conjures a full set of Daedric armor to encase the wispy form. My own Daedric blade was a match for this heavy mail, and I was able to dispatch the creature back to the Daedric plane. My own armor suffered greatly from the Dremora's weapon; a longsword. After the battle this mighty Daedric blade was all that remained of the creature. I grabbed it and fled, using a feather spell to support the great weight of it. The ruins are home to a host of Daedric and elemental monsters. I hid the sword in some bushes and made my escape, but it is far too valuable to abandon. I will have to go back for it tomorrow. I fear I may be too much like my adopted father; greed may be the death of me too.
Compared to the effort required to get there Minabi's task at the tomb seemed relatively easy, but she had not been able to get it done. The restless spirit of Kanit Ashurnisammis refused all her efforts to appease him. Perhaps as an ancestor of the tribe the ghost felt compelled to sustain her punishment. In any event, she could not leave the tomb until the spirit was settled, so I settled it. Cajoling and charms had not worked for her, but an enchanted Daedric blade is a great persuader. I hope Kanit is resting comfortably with the rest of the ancestors in the plane of the dead.
Once the ghost was dispatched Minabi was more forthcoming about how she had been given this unpleasant task. It explained some of the things Sinnammu had said about her attitude towards outlanders needing to change, though personally I like her attitude A runaway Telvanni slave had fallen into the even worse circumstance of being captured by the clan. Relations with the Telvanni are rocky at best, so returning the slave was not considered. Most of the warriors were in favor of making a rug out of him. Impressed by the slave's tales of the warm sands of his distant homeland, Minabi had helped him escape. Compassion for outlanders is apparently not an important characteristic to look for in a prospective wise woman.
I returned to the camp, giving the ruins a wide berth. Sinnammu was pleased that the spirit was sent to its rest, and also that I was willing to tell her the truth; that I had done it not Minabi. She will arrange appropriate transport to Sadrith Mora for her wayward apprentice.
Day 104: Ruin of the Daedric cult
I can see the attraction of being a follower of the bad Daedra. The leaders of the cult are apparently well rewarded with rare and hugely valuable Daedric weapons. They have security and comforts provided by elemental and Daedric servants. I don't know if it would be worth it though, having to live in the dark, damp tunnels under the ruins like they did. Not a great place to live; definitely not a good place to die.
Talking to the Ahemmusa last night and this morning it was clear that nothing good came from the nearby ruins. The cult there was a source of evil and misery, nothing more. They were willing to give me a hearty breakfast and a pat on the back, but wanted no part in any attack on the cult. Since they expected failure they didn't want to upset their bad neighbors. The assumption was that I would be dead so it didn't matter who was upset with me.
Once again I crept through the jumble of fallen stone. This time I did not avoid the atronachs; elemental energies summoned into humanoid forms. I crept close, struck quickly, and melted back into the shadows before help could arrive, usually grabbing a handful of the residual salts such creatures leave behind when they are dispatched back to the plane from whence they came. Daedric guardians met a similar fate; clannfears; green lizardlike demons who hop about and strike with their razor sharp beaks; and another dremora. I reclaimed the Daedric longsword from its hiding place, and added this dremora's shortsword to make a pile right inside the door to the inner shrine.
A long tunnel coiled down into the darkness. I dared not show a light, so I cast a nighteye spell and pressed onward. The tunnel wound down until it met the groundwater. I levitated through the ruined chambers, pausing on fallen blocks that broke the surface of the stagnant water. The water did not appear to be deep, but I did not want a splash to announce my presence.
The leaders of the cult were gathered in the main shrine, swearing their fealty to a bad Daedra represented by a great idol that towered above the knee deep water. I let my levitation spell expire, opting for a water walking spell which would last longer. Moving freely on the surface gave me an advantage over the heavily armored swordsmen, who were hampered by the water. Swordplay is more about footwork than most people realize, and the slashing style of the wakizashi was perfect for the situation. They were skilled foes, and I would not have wanted to stand toe to toe in a match of chops, thrusts, and parries. The water was deep enough to cover them once they were fallen. As I said, not a good place to die.
I gathered all the heavy Daedric weapons and valuable armor into a bundle, with great expenditure of sweat, and feather spells to lighten the loads. The corpses of the leaders I left on the altar at the great statues feet. Partly that was a warning to any others who might opt to follow the ways of the bad Daedra, but also as an honor. They were skilled opponents who deserved better than to be left in the murky water.
Far too heavily burdened to walk anywhere I cast my recall spell and returned home to Ahnassi. She is becoming accustomed to me popping into existence in the hallway. There was a blanket spread on the floor at the spot of my magical mark. It was perfect for my arrival; wet, wounded, and laden with treasures.
Day 105: Skink's respect
I got up this morning with no desire to face the day. Curled in Ahnassi's arms, her tail wrapped around my legs, I could have just chucked the whole world; Caius and his intrigues about the Nerevarine, the Mage's Guild and our incompetent Archmage, all of it. But I did get up and face another day. Somehow I'm sure Caius, Ranis, the Emperor, the Dark Brotherhood, or some other representative of fate would have found me anyway if I didn't.
I did enjoy a leisurely breakfast with Ahnassi, and Nelos and Maurrie at the Halfway before setting out. When Maurrie heard that I was heading into Telvanni territory she fairly begged me to stop in Tel Aruhn and see her friend Emusette. I agreed to do that, and I'm glad I did. A friendly face in Telvanni territory has taken on tremendous value. Emusette is a very capable mage. She treads a fine line. She is not a retainer of the Telvanni, but is not a member of the guild either. By living in Telvanni territory she does not draw the jealous attentions of the guild, and by not actually joining House Telvanni she avoids the infighting that seems a major part of their efforts. She sells potions and charms, and does training in spellcraft. I learned a little from her, but there was not much she could teach me in my specialty; the school of alteration magics. Perhaps I could find other independent trainers in the Telvanni villages who could teach me more. I may not have the skills to challenge the Archmage, but no one in the guild halls can teach me anything in my field any more either.
I had hoped that Skink-in-trees-shade could, and would, but his specialty is in the school of illusion, like my Blade friend Nine-toes. I suppose that comes more readily to Argonians, and the alteration of the elements is less important to them in their native swamps. They can breath water naturally, and have no interest in walking on it or levitating over it.
Skink definitely would train me if he could. He was extremely pleased with Minabi, who had already arrived by the time I made my way to Sadrith Mora this morning. She seemed very happy in the guild hall. I suspect this visit will have exactly the opposite effect that Sinnammu was looking for. Instead of developing a healthy distrust for Imperial ways Minabi may very well join the guild and never go back. Besides being a very skilled illusionist Skink is extremely charming. It doesn't take long with him to get past the scaly exterior and see that he is a good leader with a good heart.
He has been talking to Ranis. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say listening to Ranis. "There are those who say you could be the Archmage Arvil Bren," he said to me. "Trebonius knows nothing but destruction, which does not serve us well, but it would be wise to remember that he knows it very well indeed. We hear that you are as much warrior as mage though, and could pop the bag of wind with your spear quite handily." As seems to often be the case I had no idea what to say. He gave a low toned hiss that I had learned from Nine-toes was the Argonian equivalent of laughter. "That I must admit I would like to see, but we will keep that to ourselves for now."
"We were talking to Ranis about you to see if you are suitable for another delicate task that we have to get taken care of," he continued, changing the subject abruptly. Argonians always refer to themselves as 'we', and they do shift topics as rapidly as if there were more than one mind working in their reptilian heads. "She said that in many ways you are ideal for the task, but it is clear that we must do some more checking of facts first. One of our members has fled Telvanni territory. Reportedly she has taken up the dark arts of necromancy. If so that reflects badly on the guild and we should have her killed. But this is Telvanni territory, and there are many reasons to flee, and many who may not tell the true reasons after. Ranis says you would be very capable of taking care of this problem, but that we must be sure there is actually a necromancer to be dispatched. Let us make sure Arvil Bren. We will let you know."
So I am in Skink's good graces, and have no new duties to perform. It was the perfect opportunity to take the brief sail to Tel Aruhn and meet Emusette. Her training has given me in an evening what would have taken days of hard practice, and her hospitality is a refreshing break from the Telvanni. I cleared up my misunderstanding in Tel Vos with on officer of the guard before leaving Sadrith Mora, but there is a deep hostility towards the Mage's Guild that I will just have to live with.
Day 106: Pilgrimage progress
Emusette gave me a letter to deliver to Maurrie this morning, congratulating her on her romance with Nelos no doubt. Funny that there was a time that Maurrie thought Emusette and I could make a couple. Ahnassi was happy to see me appear once again in the hall. Very happy when she saw no signs of conflict or combat. She does worry.
With no pressing business for the guild until Skink verifies the necromancy charges in Sadrith Mora, and still no word from Caius, I again considered just spending some time at home. But my father always said that the idle pocket deserves to get picked, so I am again on the road. Finding a master of the school of alteration would serve me well, but even my father's wisdom could not drive me back into Telvanni territory. Instead I returned to the temple in Ald-ruhn.
Tuls Valen was pleased to see me, but did question my devotion. Much to my surprise it has been almost a month since I started the Pilgrimages of the Seven Graces. I completed three; humility, valor, and generosity. Despite seeing that it seems these graces are in short supply with the temple hierarchy the pilgrimages did me good personally, and I am eager to continue. Next is the pilgrimage to the shrine of courtesy, and I set out with a light step bound once again for Vivec City.
The cross country trek is becoming familiar, though I try to follow at least a slightly different path each time. Today I left Ald-ruhn on a trail headed due east, straight towards Red Mountain. This branched a couple times, then the main path appears to have fallen into disuse. I quickly saw why. It runs straight through the ghostfence. Beyond the shimmering magical barricade I could see that the path is nearly obliterated from the constant swirl of the ashstorms that cloak the crater region.
I followed the ghostfence to the south and picked up another path, then dropped into the Foyada Mamaca. By the time I found a way up the opposite side the afternoon was waning, and I was considering another night out of doors with no enthusiasm. Then I saw the towers in the distance. The mountaintop ruins of Arkngthand loomed against the westering sun. Skirting lava pools and slicing cliff racers with my wakizashi I hurried onward, the shelter afforded by the ruins too opportune to surrender. Once the sun set and the twilight thickened the cliff racers came out in force. Gliding out of the near darkness they could attack with great effect, but my armor is sturdy and I was seldom injured; never so badly that the healing energies of the lifetaker blade could not keep up.
I reached the ruins and found the entry crank in the dark. Initially I planned to take over the empty quarters of Creto, the boss of Orvas Dren's expedition of looters who I battled for the Dwemer cube. My plan changed when I saw signs of recent traffic at the entrance. I am holed up in the main entry chamber, on top of a tower where I should be safe from discovery. In the morning I will investigate before I continue on to Vivec.
Day 107: Return to Arkngthand
I am actually surprised at myself. Edwinna has sent me to numerous Dwemer ruins. I've explored some that I just stumbled across. None of them compare to the magnificence of Arkngthand, but somehow I just never made the time to return until now.
I spent the morning listening and watching. There was a large expedition here, and they were cautious. From bits and pieces I put together that for many of them this was their second time in Arkngthand. They were here with Creto's team the first time. They had fled in the wake of his death.
Speculation seemed the favorite topic of conversation. Some contended that Creto was a victim of an Imperial Legion raid, citing the artifacts which had disappeared as evidence of a very human force. Others believed that the spirits of the Dwemer had reclaimed their relics. A great locked door deep in the labyrinth led to passages as yet unexplored, and could provide a home to any number of spirits and mechanisms. Some from the first expedition scoffed at that; asking how a line of clanking centurions could have gotten past them through the lower tunnels; a valid question.
There was a Cyrodiil woman in charge. She was one of the veterans from the former expedition. She expressed no opinion on the various theories, letting the speculation go as long as it didn't interfere with the work. Her only input came when one of the workers suggested that the Thieve's Guild could have been responsible. She paused to listen. The theorist continued, noting that the guild was in a gang war with the Cammona Tong, and the sponsor of the expedition, Orvas Dren, was connected with the Tong. That's where she cut in. "It would be wise not to speak of our patron's connections. If you are wrong and he takes offense you will be out of a job. If you are right and he takes offense that would likely be worse, wouldn't it?" Chastened, the worker went quietly about his work. He couldn't know that he was half right. Creto was indeed a casualty of a gang war; my private war with the Cammona Tong. I should have let him know before he died.
When I set out on this pilgrimage I opted to carry a spear. They are handy as a walking stick between battles. The spear I chose I call my Dwemer Icepick. I enchanted it with a frost spell to do extra damage to my foes. Strange that I should happen to return here with it. I found it here in the first place. Orvas Dren will have no veterans if he mounts a third expedition. This time I left no survivors. I don't know of anyone who can tell the make of the spear from the wounds it leaves, but if anyone can today will surely enhance the legend of Arkngthand. Another expedition to Arkngthand ended in disaster, with a litter of corpses done in by a Dwemer spear.
If Dren does send another group, they will find nothing of any great value. Once all the looters were slain I opened the door to the depths and explored every passage. I didn't find all that much, but what I found I took. Nothing from Arkngthand will contribute to the cause of the Cammona Tong.
Day 108: Assignment from the Archmage
I am now so deeply entangled in the politics of the Mage's Guild that I wonder if it can ever be unraveled. I have an assignment from Archmage Trebonius himself. I should have just stayed at a cornerclub instead of the guild hall. Vivec is huge, there must be a dozen places I could have rented a bed.
I made the trek down from Pelagiad this morning. I definitely did enough walking to meet the intent of the pilgrimage. The recall spell from Arkngthand to Pelagiad didn't really shorten the journey very much, and I only did it because I was loaded down with Dwemer relics. I guess most pilgrims don't get to sleep in their own beds at night, but once again I have to tell myself that other pilgrims might have taken the pilgrimages from the temple in Vivec City, which would reduce them to a mere walk outside; three of them anyway. The shrine of courtesy is the last of the seven grace shrines that is in Vivec City. I think for the last three I will be happy to be starting from Ald-ruhn.
When I arrived this afternoon I went to the temple to prepare myself for the visit to the shrine. Getting here was just the first part of the journey. Actually reaching this shrine will be more challenging than the previous three. The shrine is located in the center of what is called the 'puzzle canal'; a maze of canals beneath the palace. Just finding the center may take some extensive wandering, and rumor has it that the canals are home to Daedric monsters who guard the approaches to the shrine. I'm not too sure about that part though. The guiding text; 'The Pilgrim's Path' mentions that there is a Dremora at the shrine itself, and I am hoping that Dremora is the source of the rumors.
The Dremora is eternally bound to the shrine, and is named Krazzt. I am looking forward to meeting him. Without joining a Daedra cult opportunities to speak face to face with such a Daedric servant are rare indeed. Krazzt is there to reenact Vivec's encounter with the bad Daedra Mehunes Dagon. The shrine of courtesy commemorates that encounter, in which Vivec gave the Daedra a silver longsword rather than fight an unarmed foe. Even among enemies there is honor, and Krazzt represents the Daedra in honoring the shrine. What he does with the longswords I can't guess.
Following my studies I continued my preparations; addressing an obvious need. Krazzt will do his part, but clearly I will need to provide a silver longsword. Had I known I would have recovered one from the skeletal guardians of the Urshilaku burial caverns, or from some other tomb that I have visited. Tombs full of skeletal guardians are not in short supply in Vvardenfell. Of course neither are armorers and I could probably just buy a sword that would serve the purpose, but the familiar abandoned tombs beneath the foreign quarter appealed to me. Not only did I claim the silver longsword that I need, I charged three soul gems with the powerful life forces of bonelords. I was very pleased with the source I chose for the sword; if only I had done as well choosing a bed for the night.
I arrived at the guild hall too late for dinner, and even though the locals are not as chilly in their reception as they have been in the past there was still no interest in helping me scrounge a meal..Then Trebonius started in on me.
"On another mission for Ranis?" he asked. "I'm sure she was pleased to have her spy, especially since you found him here."
"Ranis is very watchful of the Telvanni," I countered. "Being a Dunmer herself she knows their ways and doesn't trust them. I've been over in Telvanni territory myself lately, and there is no doubt they hate the guild. They made that clear at every turn."
"Telvanni territory; running errands for Skink no doubt. Seems you do a lot of favors for everyone Arvil; everyone but me. For me, you investigate my advisors." The tension in the room was getting thicker with every word, and Skink's comment about Trebonius' command of destruction magic came unbidden to my mind. I was fixing a sandwich. Had my spear been ready in my hands I'd have felt more at ease.
"Is there anything you need done Trebonius? I could look for a Dunmer mage to replace Tiram Gadar for you." I said it with all the courtesy I could muster, thanking the living gods of the tribunal for my afternoon's studies. Veins popped out in Trebonius' neck, and one pulsed across his forehead. I noticed that the rest of the headquarters staff were listening, some holding their breath.
His voice dropped to an icy tone. "Thank you," he replied, the courtesy just as forced as my own had been. "That would be beneath a magician who has shot up through the ranks as rapidly as you. I have a task more appropriate for your rank. We need to know what happened to the Dwarves. Find out."
Just like that one of the greatest mysteries in the entire history of the Empire became my problem to solve.
Day 109: Vivec's glorious water
I am sleeping again in the guild hall. Not that I feel terribly welcome, but I didn't want to give the staff the impression that Trebonius had succeeded in sending me packing. When I walked in he challenged me immediately. "Found the Dwarves yet?"
"No," I replied evenly.
"Then what are you doing back here? They aren't here." he challenged.
"This seems as good a place to look for answers as any Trebonius. Plenty of very knowledgeable mage's about that may be able to give me a clue. You for instance. Where would you start?" I know Trebonius is no researcher. He is a battlemage, not a scholar.
"Ah....er...good thinking Arvil," he stammered. "You are right. The staff here is top notch. I am Archmage of Vvardenfell though and if I had time to sort out your little question I'd have done so, not given it to you." He turned on his heel and stalked into his chambers. Courtesy. The timing of this pilgrimage could not have been better. I am giving Trebonius nothing to charge me with, but gaining the respect of the headquarters mages in leaps and bounds. All without even beginning to think about the disappearance of the Dwemer.
All I thought about today was finding my way through the puzzle canal. The maze of passages is certainly confusing. They all look pretty much the same; arched stone tunnels with canals flowing down the center. Fortunately the rumor of Daedric servants guarding the place did turn out to be exaggeration, unless rats are serving the Daedra. There were plenty of rats.
The real puzzle came when I did find the center of the maze. At the heart of the puzzle canal is a great pool. I don't know if it is the source for the canals or if they feed into it somehow, but there is a lot of water; the water of Vivec's glory according to the inscription on a monument in the center. The monument stands on a platform rising above the waters of the great chamber. Stairs lead up to the platform on three sides. The fourth side faces a great opening in the outer wall, which is blocked by a field of pulsing energies that reminded me of the ghostfence. I levitated across, but could find no way through. The only clue was inscribed on the obelisk on the platform: "Breathe the waters of his glory and the way is made clear".
I sat on the top step and looked at the water. Waters of his glory? I had to assume this pool was the water, but when I fell into the pool upon entering the chamber I had cast my water breathing spell to walk to the stairs. I had already 'breathed the water' and no path had become clear. My previous pilgrimages played through my mind. Humility, daring, generosity; could they help me here? I walked into the water unprotected by spells and took a deep breath. I was sure that I was drowning, but I wasn't. I suppose since I've obviously never drowned I have no way of knowing if it would really be like that or not. In any event I did not drown.
When I emerged from the water the barrier was cleared from the opening in the wall, and a bridge extended across from the platform. I marveled at the show of power. The bridge was not some wispy construct, but seemed to be solid stone. To create that much stone out of thin air in an instant; I shuddered at the thought. Looking back, I have no way to be sure, but it seems more feasible to think the bridge was there all along, veiled by illusion.
I entered the protected chamber and climbed another massive staircase. At the top of the stairs I met Krazzt. The Dremora was courteous, as could only be expected I suppose. "Is that sword for me?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied, as I handed it over. "Without it would you be unarmed?"
"Such is my fate," he said. "Some come here who are not honorable, and they dispatch me to the realm of Daedra; but I return. Some feel the need to battle me after giving me a sword, as Vivic battled Mehunes Dagon. Some of those win. Some of those lose. No matter; I end up back here. All that you need to do to complete the pilgrimage and receive the blessing is read the inscription there." He pointed to a shrine that stood near the back wall of his chamber.
I read. Once again the powerful magic of the Tribunal Temple impressed me. A water breathing spell, combined with a spell to give free movement in water fell upon me. I turned to Krazzt. "If this lasts as long as the other blessings I could swim to the mainland."
"Perhaps you should. The power beneath Red Mountain stirs. The dremora have respect for the tribunal, particularly Vivec, and I am here in representation of that, but the Daedra have not forgotten the ashy taste of defeat. War is coming outlander. Swim home while you can.
I shook hands with the Daedric wisp contained in the mighty armor. He did not remove his gauntlet, obviously.
I didn't swim to the mainland. I did swim around the bay surrounding Vivec City for the rest of the day. The freedom of movement was amazing, my armor felt buoyant, and I could swim as easily as walk. The trail of slaughterfish left in my wake was a testament to the difference powerful magic can make. As the surface of the water overhead darkened I crawled ashore near the docks and crossed the bridge into the foreign quarter canton.
Day 110: Getting nowhere fast
I like sleeping at home. It doesn't seem to get these pilgrimages done though. Once again I have spent the day afoot, only to arrive home long after midnight; boneweary and further from my destination than I have been since I woke up this morning.
Last night I took the opportunity to check with all the mage's in the guild hall regarding the disappearance of the Dwemer. No one really knows anything, but there were some good theories. That was not the only benefit of the conversations. As Ranis predicted, the staff here would welcome anyone who could supplant Trebonius. Not that I openly forwarded the idea that I could; but their contempt for the pompous Archmage could not have been hidden if they had tried. For the most part they did not bother trying. Most of them openly said that since I don't have to report back to Vivec City any time soon I should just ignore the assignment. Over breakfast I again left Trebonius twisting in the political wind.
"I see you have opted for a free meal rather than getting an early start on your mission," he grumbled as he entered the dining hall.
"Ah, but I have been working on it Trebonius," I replied silkily. "Although most would think looking for the lost dwarves to be a fool's errand I am certainly willing to pursue it for you. I've spoken to everyone here already, and unless you have thought of something to add I'll be headed for Ald-ruhn next. Edwinna is quite a scholaron the subject as I'm sure you are aware. Oddly enough I recently acquired a book that may serve as a translation key for the Dwemer language. I may actually be closer to uncovering the secret than it appears; since I must admit it looks like I'm doing nothing but enjoying my breakfast." Obviously, the expression 'fool's errand' would normally refer to the fool on the errand in question, but from the smirks around the table it was clear another meaning had crossed at least most of the agile minds present. From the purple blotches on Trebonius' neck it was clear he got it as well; but roasting a magician at the breakfast table for something he might have meant would be a pretty far leap. Before he could gather himself to continue the baiting I rose from my seat. "I must away to Ald-ruhn. Pleasure all." I walked quickly down the hall to the guild guide platform.
For all my posturing I really have no idea how I'm going to resolve the question of the Dwemer. I have two large tomes written in Dwemer, and the book 'Hanging Garden' which is apparently translated to old Eldmeris. This is an improvement, but slight. No one at all can read Dwemer. No one I know can read Eldmeris.
Anyway, I wasn't actually planning to solve the riddle today. I was planning on continuing the pilgrimages of the seven graces. I checked in with Tuls Valen at the temple in Ald-ruhn and headed for Gnissis to view the ash mask of Vivec at the shrine of justice. I had not gone far to the west of the city when the rising wind shifted to my back, blowing from Red Mountain. It is an ill wind that blows down those ashy slopes.
By mid afternoon I was swallowed in blowing ash and gave up all hope of making a direct run to Gnissis. Mostly I just wanted to reach the West Gash, where the grasses would limit the dust somewhat, or at least keep it from thickening. When the grasslands came underfoot the storm did indeed ease somewhat, allowing me to recognize some landmarks of my previous travels. I knew the West Gash has plenty of caves, caverns and mines. I hoped to find one unoccupied that I could shelter in. My fate does not run to ease however, it runs more to fortune in a literal sense.
The thugs and brigands who occupied the cave I took shelter in were not very well organized. Perhaps they thought their numbers and reputation would keep any travelers away. Unfortunately I knew neither. Had they been reasonable I would have paid them some sum of gold for the shelter of their cave, but of course their door guards attacked me on sight. They had no system for backing up those worthies, and I cast a spell of silence over the area to avoid any alarms while I dispatched them.
The cave amounted to a long tunnel, swelling every so often into a chamber. The occupants of each chamber seemed almost independent of the others in the band, and without a concerted rush none were a match for the Daedric Lifetaker that I am becoming fairly adept at wielding. In each cavern there were bedrolls and chests and crates of loot, but little of great value. Some of the thugs, particularly the door guards, were thoroughly armored with quality steel and even more valuable bonemold, but I was not willing to gather more than I could comfortably carry. I wasn't willing until I reached the deepest cavern and met what I assume was the leader of the ragtag band. Over the long life of a Dunmer warrior many things can happen, and the leader of a poorly organized mob of cut-throats today may have been something far different during his earlier days. I'm sure that was true of this man. His armor is too finely crafted.
The plates are inlaid with the volcanic stone called ebony. Raw ebony sells for twenty gold pieces to the pound on the black market. In its raw form it is considered property of the Empire, which controls all mining, so the black market is the only source, other than Imperial armorers. Whether this Dunmer had received the armor from the Empire for some previous service I have no way of knowing. Whoever the armorer was they possessed great skill. Without even considering the workmanship the armor is valuable, the craftsmanship involved makes it nearly priceless.
Priceless, and far too heavy to carry all the way to Gnissis. The cave would serve as shelter, but at the dictates of my greed for the armor I had to teleport home. Ahnassi's eyes again flew wide at the sight of yet another treasure for my collection. This ebony armor is undoubtedly worth more than the house and all of its contents. My collection of Daedric weapons excluded of course.
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