Days 111 to 120
Day 111: The long road to Gnissis
This morning I awoke refreshed and wanted to get right back on the path of my pilgrimage. I kissed Ahnassi good-bye and set out once again. The guards and townspeople of Pelagiad have become accustomed to seeing me in the mornings, shrouded in the early mists. I crossed to the north side of the street, stopped, and disappeared in the swirling lavender haze of a teleportation spell, only to reappear in the courtyard of the temple in Balmora.
I grabbed a quick bite to eat at the guild hall before having the guild guide transport me back to Ald-ruhn. I had traversed almost half the length of Vvardenfell and was ready to walk the remaining distance to Gnissis. Then I heard the wind. The guild hall in Ald-ruhn is built of great scaly plates taken from the shells of huge insects like the silt striders. The plates were creaking and groaning as the powerful wind tried to pry its way inside. I didn't need to look to know the ashstorm still raged outside. I consulted my maps.
I am on a pilgrimage to the shrine of justice. Clearly it would not be appropriate to short change the experience. Caldera is at least as far from Gnissis as Ald-ruhn, so it seemed fair enough to walk from there. I returned to the guild guide and transported to the newest guild hall, located in Caldera. Being in the thick of establishing themselves in the local scene the guild members there do not play a big part in the politics of the guild as a whole, but I made sure to greet everyone warmly as I passed through. It never hurts to have friends.
Although Caldera is far enough into the west gash to be free of the ashstorms there was still a haze of dust that cast a grey shadow over the town. I don't think anyone can say for sure if the ghostfence is weakening or if Dagoth Ur is gathering his strength, but there is no question that the blight is spreading. I headed west hoping to break free of the ominous murkiness. It gave way eventually. I didn't get an easy walk of it; the shrine will have justice. The haze of dust blended seamlessly into the usual overcast of the Bitter Coast. I slogged most of the day through the pouring rain. I even continued my trek into the darkness, using my nighteye spell when the ground did not offer smooth easy purchase. I was almost here, and making camp in the downpour did not seem worth the effort.
Despite the late hour of my arrival I have been made welcome in the temple by the priestess, Mehra Drora. Tomorrow I shall study and meditate for a while, then complete my pilgrimage at the shrine.
Day 112: Hospitality of a Telvanni
Mehra Drora was a great help to me in my study of Vivec's Ash Mask and completing the shrine of justice pilgrimage, but her information about Gnissis' other residents may prove even more helpful. The story of the mask is another astonishing tale of Vivec's heroism in the war with Dagoth Ur. The mask itself is a dull bluish grey; as one would expect. It looks very solid for being made of ash, but I was not allowed to touch it. The mask is guarded around the clock by an Ordinator.
The mask was formed when the magic of Dagoth Ur swept over Vivec and a band of his followers who were camped for the night. A layer of smothering ash covered them, hardening into shells on the corpses. Vivec himself was not killed, but awoke imprisoned in this ash casing. As he wept for his lost followers the power of his tears weakened the ash and he was able to free himself, tearing the mask from his face intact to become the prize relic of the Gnissis temple. According to the legend he then restored his followers to life and continued the war on Dagoth Ur. Not to question temple doctrine, but I find it odd that no mention is made of any names or subsequent deeds of any of these followers.
When I completed my studies and left a cure disease potion at the shrine I set out to meet a distinguished citizen of Gnissis. He would not likely appreciate the 'citizen of Gnissis' part, but he is certainly distinguished, and knows it well. The politics of Gnissis are complicated. Due to the sacred sites the temple maintains jurisdiction, but it is technically in Redoran territory. The Imperial Legion has built a fortress here as a result. Whether their intent is to keep the peace or take advantage of the discord in their own land grabbing way is a matter of some conjecture. Adding to the swirl of questions is Baladas Demnevanni, a rogue Telvanni wizard who has taken over the ancient Velothi tower of Arvs-Drelen, located on the edge of town.
Baladas adds to the swirl of questions, and provides no answers. He lives as a recluse, having necessities delivered by local merchants who leave the goods in an antechamber just inside the door. He appears to have no retainers or kin. Some of the merchants report that the tower is cleaned and maintained by a crew of skeletal servants. All report that the aged wizard wants only to be left alone. A Telvanni so far outside of Telvanni territory was too good an opportunity to pass up though, and I am glad I seized it when I had the chance.
I entered the tower warily, but openly; announcing my presence as one would expect from a guest, invited or not. I ignored the passage to the depths below the tower. Whatever isolation Baladas was living in, I was sure it would not be in the dungeons. The lower level of the tower offered a guest room; obviously seldom if ever used, but well maintained. Across the hall is a room that appears to be some sort of treasury. I took a brief look, then slammed and locked the door before the skeletal guards could reach me. No doubt Baladas could summon more, but dispatching them would not likely invite hospitality.
I climbed the ramp to the next level of the tower to find my way blocked by a securely locked door that challenged my spell of opening. I met the challenge of the door and cautiously passed through. Standing on a summoning platform in the center of the room was a horrible creature. I learned later that using my opening spell on the door had freed the monster from its bonds, alerting it to the task it had been summoned for; turning away any visitors. The daedroth is a towering humanoid form topped with a monstrous reptilian head, with a long snout lined with sharp gnashing teeth. While physically intimidating the creature's most powerful weapons are magical, as I found out immediately.
With a wave of its scaly hand the creature cast a powerful spell, and despite my frantic dodge I was inundated in green venom. The daedroth taps such a reserve of magica that it does not bother with targeted spells. As I fled the room I could see that it had painted a vast area with glowing poison. I gulped restoratives and poison cures as I crashed down the curving ramp. Behind me I could hear the snapping of the mighty jaws.
I reached the bottom of the ramp and the poisonous spell completely dissipated. I spun to face the horror charging down upon me. To my surprise the beast skidded to a halt and unleashed another powerful explosion of magica, bathing the corridor in snapping electrical discharges. My trusted spear became a lightning rod in my hands and I was forced to abandon it as shocks ran over my skin like a swarm of angry bees. The restoratives still coursing through me reduced the damage, and I hoped the effects of the powerful brew would outlast the spell. I cast my most powerful shielding spell and called upon the innate abilities of my Breton heritage to protect me as the monster leapt in with sharp grasping talons and snapping maw.
The Dwemer metal bracer on my left forearm was proof against the sharp teeth and crushing power of the creature's jaws, but it rolled with such sudden violence that my arm was pulled from its socket. Without the magical protections I had in effect it would probably have been torn completely off. I howled with agony, but managed to slash the creature's belly with the wakizashi. The sharpness of the daedric blade separated the scaly hide and glowing gore gushed forth. The jaws relaxed momentarily and I pulled free. The enchantment of my sword struck and the daedroth's own life force flowed into me, binding my separated shoulder.
The monster was handicapped; holding its entrails in with one great clawed hand. Then in a coursing flash of restorative magic the huge gash was healed. I struck again with the lifetaker, leaving a minor wound. The creature resisted the spell of the blade and raked me with its claws as I spun away. Then we crashed together a final time.
Once the snapping electrical charges had dissipated I had unlimbered my steel shield, and in the final exchange I managed to smash it sideways into the widespread jaws. The steel flexed under the pressure, but held for the brief moment needed for the wakizashi to slash across the throat. I released the grips and let the shield fall with the daedroth into a splashing shower of its glowing blood. The lifetaker drained the last of the beast's ebbing life forces into my own flagging reserves.
From above, on the ramp, came a sardonic voice. "Impressive outlander," was all he said, then Baladas turned and headed back to his study in the uppermost reaches of the tower. From the top of the ramp he shouted back down. "Clearly you won't be dissuaded. There is a guest room. Rest, and clean off that gore. I will see you tomorrow."
Day 113: The coming war
I spent the day like a Telvanni wizard; isolated in a high tower. Baladas seems eccentric to me and to the local folk in Gnissis, but among the Telvanni his reclusive lifestyle is the norm. Getting past his summoned daedroth earned me a brief audience. A promise to share unique knowledge is the only thing that gained me an ally.
Like all Telvanni, Baladas is opposed to the dissemination of magical knowledge and products to the common public. In Morrowind the long lives of the Dunmer give almost everyone the opportunity to pick up a few spells, but the Telvanni wizards have devoted themselves to centuries of study and they guard their secrets jealously. The assimilation of Morrowind into the empire brought the Mage's Guild, with its more commercial view of magica. There is a basic difference of view between the Telvanni and the guild that may be impossible to reconcile.
I had hoped that I could find among the Telvanni a master of alteration magic who would teach me. Baladas conceded that there might be such masters, but the animosity of the Telvanni towards the guild would be an insurmountable obstacle. Even in their remote towers the Telvanni counselors are aware of my rise within the ranks of the guild. Soon I can expect to be banned from Telvanni territory.
Baladas himself would not have anything to do with such a ban, obviously, since he has abandoned Telvanni territory himself. The Telvanni, perhaps better than anyone, see the coming war with Dagoth Ur. The Telvanni council is looking at it as an opportunity to increase their own autonomy as the temple will be sorely pressed and the empire will face a revolt from a force completely outside their understanding. Baladas thinks the council is underestimating Dagoth Ur. He also suspects that with the external pressure holding them together reduced the Telvanni will fall into active battles among themselves. The bonds of honor that hold House Redoran together, in his opinion, offer the best defense against the forces of Red Mountain.
We did not forge such a bond of honor; more a bond of necessity. Rather than strike in defense against Dagoth Ur, the Telvanni's first blow in the war will be the destruction of the Mage's Guild. Baladas deems that unwise, but with Trebonius offending the Telvanni at every turn while weakening the guild's defensive position it is almost unavoidable. It is unavoidable without replacing Trebonius. Baladas gave me access to his library, and in a day of study I have gained enough insight to merit promotion to warlock rank. Baladas may not approve of the guild, but he deems it necessary for the coming war and would have it led by his ally; or perhaps led by his puppet. He has helped me, but he bears careful watching.
Another aspect of our newfound alliance is that Baladas, in his long life, has garnered some knowledge of Aldmeris. I will be returning to Gnissis with the translation of Hanging Gardens and the books in ancient Dwemer that I have collected. Perhaps with his help I can solve the riddle of the dwarves.
Day 114: Warlock
I am writing early, for tonight the guild hall will be celebrating my promotion. Edwinna has declared me a warlock. Many of my friends from the hall in Balmora have already arrived. With Ajira providing the beverages I am sure I will not be able to write later.
I may be the next Archmage of Vvardenfell. That remains to be seen. For now though I am just a wandering mage. Today I wandered a long way, and my feet hurt. Like any day on the roads of Morrowind danger was ready at hand. As I approached Ald-ruhn with the sun settling behind me in the west I found an opportunity to stand for safety and security. Perhaps the Ashlander couple that I met will speak well of me when they return to their clan.
I met Falanu Indaren first. She was standing atop a small hill peering into the desolate ashlands around her. I turned slightly from my path and approached. She was scraped a bit, and her clothes dirty and torn. I thought briefly of putting an arrow through her; fearing that she could be maddened with the corprus disease. She shouted, and I did not act on the thought.
"Outlander! I need your help! My husband is lost!" she cried.
I trudged up the gritty ash slope to get whatever details I could. I don't know what it is about the Dunmer. They generally use 'outlander' as the next best thing to a curse, but it doesn't even register on them that calling me outlander and then asking for help is a contradiction. As my father would say; 'strange ways aren't strange to strange folk. Never be surprised.' Whatever she wanted to call me there was no way I would refuse aid to a distressed traveler.
Falanu and her husband Drerel had been headed into town to trade for basic necessities when they were attacked by a pack of nix hounds. It occurred to me that someone who didn't have the weapons skills of spells to deal with nix hounds ought not be standing on a hill top in the Ashlands. I turned a wary eye to the skies and scanned for cliff racers. Falanu had fallen down, and the only thing she could think to do was be still, hoping the hound pack would think her dead. Her husband had run, leading the hounds away from her. She thought he had headed west.
I led her down the hill and settled her in a thicket of trama vine, then set off to the west looking for tracks. The recent ash storm had left a clean slate, and the scene of the attack was fairly easy to find. To the west was a sandy ridge crowned with a spine of rock pinnacles. As I climbed the slope I thought that among those pinnacles would be where I would seek shelter if I were being swarmed by nix hounds. Sure enough, between two close set rock faces I found the battered Dunmer. He had driven off the hounds once he got his back to the stone, but was too battered to risk being caught in the open.
Drerel was thrilled to hear that his wife was alive, and for the most part unharmed. He was also very happy when I cast a healing spell that eased his own wounds. I led him to the thicket and was warmed by the reunion of the happy couple. Most of their trade goods had been scattered and lost in the frantic activity so I did not expect any reward, but they did give me a book to add to my collection.
That collection of books is filling my room here in the guild hall, but the real prizes I will take with me when I leave. I spoke briefly with Tuls Valen at the temple, and my next pilgrimage will take me to Koal Cave, which is near Gnissis. I will deliver my Dwemer books to Baladas and we will see what he can decipher from them.
Day 115: Return to Gnissis
I should have taken some sort of transport yesterday. I knew that the next pilgrimage would be taking me right back to Gnissis. After yesterday's long walk my desire to do the pilgrimage correctly and walk to the Koal Cave was nonexistent. Last night's blowout party at the Mage's Guild didn't help either. It was well past noon before I cleared the bitter burn of sujamma from the back of my throat. I should know better than to get on the receiving end of Ajira's brewing skills. She is a sweetheart though. I may just have a soft heart for Khajiiti women, but she was my first mentor in the guild and has always stood by me and helped me out. Right now being no exception. She has heard recently about a powerful artifact; the Staff of Magnus, and has passed the rumor on to me. Sometime soon I will need to journey to Mount Kand and recover this valuable relic.
For today though I trudged back to Gnissis. Baladas welcomed me back. I was half afraid that he would have disappeared back up into his tower and left another guardian to insure his privacy. I don't think I was up to battling another daedroth today. Fortunately I didn't have to. Getting his hands on the book, Hanging Gardens, was far too much of an attraction to him. He is convinced that with that for a key he will be able to translate the other Dwemer books, which he says are called The Egg of Time and Divine Metaphysics. It seems we may soon have an answer to one of history's greatest riddles. What became of the Dwemer? I suspect Trebonius will not be pleased when the assignment he handed me as a dead end makes me famous throughout the guild.
While I was excited to be bringing the books I did not forget the purpose of my travels today, that being the pilgrimage. I did what Tuls Valen calls 'walking meditation', dwelling on the goal and lessons of the pilgrimage to Koal Cave. Koal Cave is the site of another of Vivec's legendary encounters, this time with 'Ruddy Man', the father of the Dreugh. No one knows how Ruddy Man came to be. He may have been a human or elf that underwent some transformation; through curse or his own miscalculation, or perhaps even by intent. In any event the fearsome aquatic dreugh trace their origins back to him.
When the ancient Dunmer followed Veloth to Vvardenfell, the dreugh were established in the surrounding waters, though nowhere near as plentiful as they are now. How the Ruddy Man would still be alive in Vivec's time is a question that I will not be asking in the temple, but apparently Vivec defeated the Ruddy Man in his stronghold at Koal Cave. Then he spared his vanquished foe. Vivec claimed for the Velothi, who by then were known as the Dunmer, the right to use the tough hides of the dreugh to make armors. How the dreugh may feel about their progenitor bartering away their hides is another question best left unasked.
Tomorrow I will complete the trek to the Koal Cave, and reenact the climactic battle. I suspect the dreugh who choose to inhabit this historic location will be no ordinary dreugh.
Day 116: Koal Cave
I could have completed the pilgrimage to Koal Cave satisfactorily by just leaving an offering at the shrine. The shrine is right inside the entrance; the shrine of valor. Perhaps that is why I couldn't just walk away from the cave. I had to enter the watery depths of the dreugh.
The entry cavern, where the shrine stands, was not intimidating. In only a few spots too deep to wade and with the stone overhead only occasionally dipping to the water there was no call for magic. A few slaughterfish were easily dispatched. The close confines of the cave helped contain their darting attacks, making them easier targets than their open water cousins. Beyond the entry cavern things went downhill; quite literally. The cavern plunged into the depths, becoming completely submerged.
The opportunity to practice my alteration magic seemed ideal. I cast my water breathing spell and plod onward. My heavy ebony boots gave me good purchase, allowing me to continue as if the grotto were just another Vvardenfell cave. The one thing I did not consider was that the confined space that had given me the advantage over the slaughterfish was taking on a new dimension. Standing firmly on the bottom in my heavy boots I was limited to two dimensions. The slaughterfish had three. So did the dreugh.
I wandered blithely along, picking pearls out of huge kallops that dotted the bottom stones. At a crossing of passages I cast my spell of buoyancy and floated up to take the turning to the right, again settling to the bottom as the spell wore off. The passage led into an open cavern, with tall strands of bright green sea plants swaying gently. Darting through the fronds a school of slaughterfish converged on me.
I was hampered by the water. The Akiviri style of the wakizashi calls for quick slashing movements, which were impossible to perform. Short jabbing movements, more appropriate for a shortsword or other piercing blade encountered less resistance, but the grip of the wakizashi made them awkward and inaccurate. Fortunately the slaughterfish does not have much resistance to magica, and even a glancing blow from the lifetaker blade would drain their life force and heal my injuries. I felt lucky to be in good shape as numerous dead slaughterfish rose slowly towards the stone roof. I gathered pearls and valuable equipment lost by previous adventurers. Some had probably been abandoned in desperate attempts to reach air. Bones attested to the frequent failures. A shortsword gleamed with enchantment from among the litter, and I claimed it gratefully.
Armed with the shortsword, whose enchantment froze the slaughterfish that it struck into grotesque ice sculptures, I continued my explorations. I began to wonder if there were actually dreugh in the cave, and if I could find them before my dwindling reserve of magica called for me to return to the surface. Maintaining the water breathing spell and the need for buoyancy to climb the vertical turnings of the cave were a slow but continuous drain.
I was close to turning back for fear of running out of magica when a huge dreugh erupted out of a thick tangle of weed. In a swirl of powerful tentacles it struck, crashing me into the stone wall of the cave. I jabbed frantically with the icy blade of the shortsword. The dreugh warlord was far more resistant than a slaughterfish, but with repeated strikes the enchantment took effect. The dreugh landed a crushing blow with its great claw and spun away with one tentacle frozen into immobility.
To say the dreugh was staggered would misrepresent it. The base of three tentacles gives the creature of the deep a fluid grace. With one of the three frozen that grace was gone, and the three dimensional environment gave room for lurching movements that could not be covered by what staggering brings to mind. I quickly pushed the cap from a healing potion, covering the neck with my thumb until I could bring the flask to my lips and suck the restorative contents into my mouth. By the time the waters had thawed the dreugh's injury my own were healing rapidly and the battle was rejoined.
With newfound respect for my icy blade the dreugh was far more cautious. It struck in wild rushes, accelerating to great speed and raking with its claws as it passed. My shield caught water like a sail in a strong wind, but by continuous slow efforts I kept it ready between us, and fended off the violent charges. I struck my own blows on the passing form as best I could. Eventually the powerful warlord settled to the bottom, overwhelmed by numerous wounds. Like Vivec in the legend I let the creature live. Leaving the cave I took great satisfaction in having added the extra flourish to the pilgrimage to the shrine of valor.
Day 117: The seventh grace
I rode back to Ald-ruhn on the silt strider this morning. This pilgrimage thing is a whole lot of walking and I was tired. I took the opportunity to read about the seventh and final pilgrimage of the seven graces, so when I saw Tuls Valen at the temple I felt like I was ready to go, and he agreed. A good thing as it turns out. I may not have time for Pilgrimages for a while.
When I left the temple I stopped in at the Mage's Guild hall. Since my arrival on the silt strider would be easily observed I wanted to give anyone who might be watching for me an obvious place to look. I expected the Dark Brotherhood to be looking for me. As it turns out someone else was. There was a message for me at the hall from Gildan.
Gildan is a Cyrodiil who lives in Ald-ruhn. If she lived in Balmora she would certainly have a problem with Ranis since she is not a guild member, but Edwinna is a little lax about recruiting members. As long as she isn't casting spells for hire or offering training Edwinna won't make any demands of Gildan. I think Gildan might be connected with the local thieve's guild in Ald-ruhn for cover, but her primary loyalty is to the Blades. I knew that a message to see her would most likely be a summons from Caius. It was.
Gildan and I discussed the situation at length. My cover in the Mage's Guild is a sword that cuts both ways. My high rank is starting to draw attention to my movements, especially when the guild guides are involved. Getting a message from Gildan and suddenly transporting to Balmora would bring undue attention to her, as well as raising questions about me. We agreed that departing as expected on the pilgrimage to Ghostgate then continuing on to Balmora on foot would be the best way to proceed. I will see Caius tomorrow.
Tonight I am again a guest in the Redoran hostel in the tower of dusk at Ghostgate. I have meditated in the temple and prepared myself for the offering at the shrine of pride, which lies right inside the great gates. The shrine of pride commemorates those who have served the temple in containing Dagoth Ur and his minions. In the morning I will complete the pilgrimage.
Day 118: Open war with the Sixth House
Tonight I am a guest of the Imperial Legion. Buckmoth Fortress is just south of Ald-ruhn. I've passed it many times, but never had occasion to stop here. Until now.
I woke this morning and slipped quickly into the crater region of Red Mountain to complete the pilgrimage. The shrine blessed me with a powerful defensive shell of magica which lasted most of the day. If I ever have to return to the crater I will definitely stop at the shrine for this blessing as the crater is fraught with perils. Today the magical shielding enhancing my armor was wasted on the innumerable cliff racers of the Foyada Mamaca.
I reached Balmora in the early afternoon, slipping into town over the eastern ridge cloaked in the powerful chameleon spell of my amulet. Caius' house is set directly against the hillside, allowing me to leap onto his roof. At the signal pounded from above Caius affects the darting glances of the skooma addict and opens his door to survey the street, as if in the depths of a paranoid delusion. I glided undetected through the open door as he paced furiously, peering around the corners of his home. With a last backward glance Caius came back inside and closed it to complete the act. Seeing the powerful leader of the Blades emerge from the pretense of the aged sugar-tooth is always a welcome shock. His cover is perfect.
My own cover, Caius declared, is laughable. "Arvil," he said, "when you arrived here I told you to establish a trade of some sort. I meant some way to explain your presence in Vvardenfell as you went about your business that would keep people from wondering. When people wonder what you are up to they pay attention to you and a spy doesn't want attention. You, on the other hand, have become the center of attention everywhere you have gone. No one thinks you are a spy, but moving about with any subtlety seems completely beyond you."
I sat on the edge of the bed, since Caius' spare room offered no other seat. I really could not think of anything to say.
The spymaster continued. "The Mage's Guild has no idea that you are a spy. Sharn keeps an eye on things for me there. She says there is a pretty widespread desire to see you become the Archmage, and those who don't want that predominantly want you killed. The current Archmage, for example."
I shrugged. He was right. My cover in the Mage's Guild has turned into a beacon. "By the way," he said, "the Telvanni want you deported." My mouth opened and closed, but I still had nothing to say. "Meanwhile, your private war with the Cammona Tong has slowly filtered into almost common knowledge in Balmora. The Hlaalu don't want you deported, but only because Orvas Dren doesn't want you to get away."
"Caius," I said, "I really didn't mean for all this to happen. Things just seem to...get out of hand."
He shook his head, partly in disgust, partly in amusement. "I know," he said. "I used to have this plan about a fake Nerevarine. The Temple, by the way, is awash in two rumors. The Ashlanders are abuzz that there is a mad outlander claiming to be the Nerevarine so the Ordinators are looking into that. Then Tuls Valen in Ald-ruhn has been talking about you, the outlander pilgrim who follows Vivec's path without any resorting to silt strider or easing of the burdens in any way. There's talk of promoting you in the temple ranks, but some say you are rising too fast for an outlander. If, make that inevitably when, they determine that both of these rumors revolve around the same person the temple is liable to explode."
"You said I should join the temple Caius. It wasn't my idea."
"Join it, not take it over! Can you do anything halfway? Nevermind. You can't. I know that even though you probably don't." He rolled his eyes and leaned against the edge of his desk. "Forget it Arvil, you just are what you are. At least amongst all your exploits no one would guess you have time to be in the Blades. I have a mission for you."
He drew out a scroll of paper. "This is a dispatch report from Raesa Pullia at Buckmoth Fort. My contacts in the Imperial Legion acquired a copy." He unrolled the parchment and referred to it intermittently. "The legion has started looking into the activities of the Sixth House Cult, and they sent a scouting party to investigate a base, rumored to be on the coast somewhere. The scouting party was wiped out to the last man, and that last man staggered into Buckmoth distorted beyond recognition with corprus disease. She thinks the garrison at Buckmoth needs additional support before they take any further action. That support is not coming any time soon; not the way she expects anyway. Despite your high profile you can still present yourself as a mercenary. Find out all you can from her, then find out all you can about this base...then destroy it."
I told him about the bases I had discovered in the northern ashlands, and at Mamaca.
"Well, the Sixth House already considers you an enemy then, so nothing new there. Try not to get recruited into the legion while you're about this. With your misguided ideas of being inconspicuous you'd probably end up a general."
I cast a teleportation spell and appeared in the courtyard of the Balmora temple. Teleportation is a terrific thing for an agent, since it leaves no tracks. I could just as easily have been coming from anywhere as from Caius' nearby house. Before anyone could recognize me I hurried to the guild house and teleported to Ald-ruhn, then quickly used another spell, arriving at the entry to the Imperial Shrine here at Buckmoth Fort.
I don't know if I qualify as a mercenary. Raesa Pullia was happy enough to accept the services of a high ranking mage, but had little to offer as payment. I do have Imperial authority to march into any known or suspected Sixth House stronghold and investigate, with no repercussions should violence ensue and rights of salvage for any treasures or goods found to be held by enemies of the empire.
They also provided a bed, which I am about to gladly use. Tomorrow may be a long day.
Day 119: A long day indeed
When I went to bed last night I expected a long day of searching for the Sixth House base. I have had a long day. Mostly I spent it with Caius' voice echoing in my head, saying "don't end up recruited into the Legions." I did spend the day among soldiers, who did accept me as one of their own, at least temporarily.
The recent loss of the scouting party, and the harrowing death of their one comrade who made it back to the fort, has cast a pall over the garrison here. They have assigned patrols in the surrounding ashlands, and occasionally make a showing in Ald-ruhn. Today they didn't do any of those things.
I awoke once again to the sound of howling winds. The soldiers stirred uneasily. Everyone knows the ashstorms blow down from Red Mountain, and Red Mountain is the source of the blight. Their recent direct experience with the corprus disease has left a raw wound. Their fellow soldier, Barlad Falown, died a horrible death, raving and shrieking and clawing at his own flesh, which grew back as fast as he could tear chunks loose with his gnarled hands. I heard the story at least ten times today. As much as they want to forget it, a soldier's way is to just keep telling the tale until they grow numb.
I learned some tricks about smithing, and repaired my weapons. The smiths of the fort are very talented, but most of the soldiers at some point broke out stone and leather and sharpened their blades themselves. Warriors. If they aren't using their weapons they are tending to them. Or playing games to pass the time while sheltering in their fort with an ashstorm howling outside. I lost a small fortune. I did not know there were so many ways to gamble; pitching gold coins to see who could land closest to a wall, drawing racer plume quills from a tube, looking for the long quill that takes the pot, rolling the knucklebones of a kagouti and betting on which side will face up when they come to rest.
Even with all the entertainments the day dragged. Near evening the wind began to slacken, and tomorrow everyone expects to return to their duties. For me that will be a long walk to Gnaar Mok, and the search for the Sixth House base called Ilinubi.
Day 120: Incurable
I have caught the corprus disease. I have caught the corprus disease. I reached the Sixth House base. I found Dagoth Gares. I killed him. With his dying breath he cursed me with the corprus disease. I have caught the corprus disease, and there is no cure.
I am sitting on a stone altar deep in Ilinubi cavern. There doesn't seem to be much point in going anywhere. I have the corprus disease. Before we battled Dagoth Gares called me Nerevar. He said if I go to Red Mountain and submit to Dagoth Ur that I will be welcomed as a friend by the Sixth House. He said that the Sixth House, House Dagoth, was not destroyed, only sleeping. He delivered a message from Dagoth Ur. Then he cursed me with corprus disease. I have corprus disease.
My mind will deteriorate until I am raving, my body will grow wild lumps of flesh whenever I am injured, and in my madness I will cause my own injuries; tearing my own flesh to eat. My own flesh; Dagoth Gares says the sleepers call it the divine food when they eat their own flesh. Dagoth Gares; he gave me the corprus disease. I am cursed.
The Temple considers the 'divine disease' a sign of evil. They will destroy me given the chance. People will shun me. I cannot go home. I have the corprus disease. I will die a raving mad hulking beast.
It is a disease of the mind. I will lose my skills. The mage's guild will not allow me in their halls. I will never be the Archmage of Vvardenfell. I will not even be a mage. I will be a grotesque beast built on the frame of a man. The frame of a man who is dying. Actually, the frame of a man already dead; dead of the incurable corprus disease. I could just lie here on the cool stones of the altar to die. The Sixth House has broken and fled this place. Ilinubi could be my tomb.
Wait. Dagoth Gares called me Nerevar. The Nerevarine prophecies spoke of corprus. What did they say? I must remember. "The curse of flesh before him flees" It is the second trial of the seven visions. "Curse of flesh" must be the corprus. Nibani thought it was, but it must be. She didn't know what it meant, but it must mean that I get cured of the disease. If I am the Nerevarine I must get cured. Maybe if I find the Nerevarine he cures me to show that he is the Nerevarine. Nibani said that I had a part to play, but I wasn't necessarily the Nerevarine.
I could go to Red Mountain and present myself to Dagoth Ur. Dagoth Gares said that Dagoth Ur wants me as an ally. More likely a slave. But he cursed me with the corprus. And he called me Nerevar; not someone for Nerevar to heal; Nerevar.
I must make note of all that Dagoth Gares said before he died. My mind may grow weak before I am cured. I am Nerevar. I must be cured. To think otherwise is too horrible to contemplate. I must be cured.
This morning I awoke refreshed and wanted to get right back on the path of my pilgrimage. I kissed Ahnassi good-bye and set out once again. The guards and townspeople of Pelagiad have become accustomed to seeing me in the mornings, shrouded in the early mists. I crossed to the north side of the street, stopped, and disappeared in the swirling lavender haze of a teleportation spell, only to reappear in the courtyard of the temple in Balmora.
I grabbed a quick bite to eat at the guild hall before having the guild guide transport me back to Ald-ruhn. I had traversed almost half the length of Vvardenfell and was ready to walk the remaining distance to Gnissis. Then I heard the wind. The guild hall in Ald-ruhn is built of great scaly plates taken from the shells of huge insects like the silt striders. The plates were creaking and groaning as the powerful wind tried to pry its way inside. I didn't need to look to know the ashstorm still raged outside. I consulted my maps.
I am on a pilgrimage to the shrine of justice. Clearly it would not be appropriate to short change the experience. Caldera is at least as far from Gnissis as Ald-ruhn, so it seemed fair enough to walk from there. I returned to the guild guide and transported to the newest guild hall, located in Caldera. Being in the thick of establishing themselves in the local scene the guild members there do not play a big part in the politics of the guild as a whole, but I made sure to greet everyone warmly as I passed through. It never hurts to have friends.
Although Caldera is far enough into the west gash to be free of the ashstorms there was still a haze of dust that cast a grey shadow over the town. I don't think anyone can say for sure if the ghostfence is weakening or if Dagoth Ur is gathering his strength, but there is no question that the blight is spreading. I headed west hoping to break free of the ominous murkiness. It gave way eventually. I didn't get an easy walk of it; the shrine will have justice. The haze of dust blended seamlessly into the usual overcast of the Bitter Coast. I slogged most of the day through the pouring rain. I even continued my trek into the darkness, using my nighteye spell when the ground did not offer smooth easy purchase. I was almost here, and making camp in the downpour did not seem worth the effort.
Despite the late hour of my arrival I have been made welcome in the temple by the priestess, Mehra Drora. Tomorrow I shall study and meditate for a while, then complete my pilgrimage at the shrine.
Day 112: Hospitality of a Telvanni
Mehra Drora was a great help to me in my study of Vivec's Ash Mask and completing the shrine of justice pilgrimage, but her information about Gnissis' other residents may prove even more helpful. The story of the mask is another astonishing tale of Vivec's heroism in the war with Dagoth Ur. The mask itself is a dull bluish grey; as one would expect. It looks very solid for being made of ash, but I was not allowed to touch it. The mask is guarded around the clock by an Ordinator.
The mask was formed when the magic of Dagoth Ur swept over Vivec and a band of his followers who were camped for the night. A layer of smothering ash covered them, hardening into shells on the corpses. Vivec himself was not killed, but awoke imprisoned in this ash casing. As he wept for his lost followers the power of his tears weakened the ash and he was able to free himself, tearing the mask from his face intact to become the prize relic of the Gnissis temple. According to the legend he then restored his followers to life and continued the war on Dagoth Ur. Not to question temple doctrine, but I find it odd that no mention is made of any names or subsequent deeds of any of these followers.
When I completed my studies and left a cure disease potion at the shrine I set out to meet a distinguished citizen of Gnissis. He would not likely appreciate the 'citizen of Gnissis' part, but he is certainly distinguished, and knows it well. The politics of Gnissis are complicated. Due to the sacred sites the temple maintains jurisdiction, but it is technically in Redoran territory. The Imperial Legion has built a fortress here as a result. Whether their intent is to keep the peace or take advantage of the discord in their own land grabbing way is a matter of some conjecture. Adding to the swirl of questions is Baladas Demnevanni, a rogue Telvanni wizard who has taken over the ancient Velothi tower of Arvs-Drelen, located on the edge of town.
Baladas adds to the swirl of questions, and provides no answers. He lives as a recluse, having necessities delivered by local merchants who leave the goods in an antechamber just inside the door. He appears to have no retainers or kin. Some of the merchants report that the tower is cleaned and maintained by a crew of skeletal servants. All report that the aged wizard wants only to be left alone. A Telvanni so far outside of Telvanni territory was too good an opportunity to pass up though, and I am glad I seized it when I had the chance.
I entered the tower warily, but openly; announcing my presence as one would expect from a guest, invited or not. I ignored the passage to the depths below the tower. Whatever isolation Baladas was living in, I was sure it would not be in the dungeons. The lower level of the tower offered a guest room; obviously seldom if ever used, but well maintained. Across the hall is a room that appears to be some sort of treasury. I took a brief look, then slammed and locked the door before the skeletal guards could reach me. No doubt Baladas could summon more, but dispatching them would not likely invite hospitality.
I climbed the ramp to the next level of the tower to find my way blocked by a securely locked door that challenged my spell of opening. I met the challenge of the door and cautiously passed through. Standing on a summoning platform in the center of the room was a horrible creature. I learned later that using my opening spell on the door had freed the monster from its bonds, alerting it to the task it had been summoned for; turning away any visitors. The daedroth is a towering humanoid form topped with a monstrous reptilian head, with a long snout lined with sharp gnashing teeth. While physically intimidating the creature's most powerful weapons are magical, as I found out immediately.
With a wave of its scaly hand the creature cast a powerful spell, and despite my frantic dodge I was inundated in green venom. The daedroth taps such a reserve of magica that it does not bother with targeted spells. As I fled the room I could see that it had painted a vast area with glowing poison. I gulped restoratives and poison cures as I crashed down the curving ramp. Behind me I could hear the snapping of the mighty jaws.
I reached the bottom of the ramp and the poisonous spell completely dissipated. I spun to face the horror charging down upon me. To my surprise the beast skidded to a halt and unleashed another powerful explosion of magica, bathing the corridor in snapping electrical discharges. My trusted spear became a lightning rod in my hands and I was forced to abandon it as shocks ran over my skin like a swarm of angry bees. The restoratives still coursing through me reduced the damage, and I hoped the effects of the powerful brew would outlast the spell. I cast my most powerful shielding spell and called upon the innate abilities of my Breton heritage to protect me as the monster leapt in with sharp grasping talons and snapping maw.
The Dwemer metal bracer on my left forearm was proof against the sharp teeth and crushing power of the creature's jaws, but it rolled with such sudden violence that my arm was pulled from its socket. Without the magical protections I had in effect it would probably have been torn completely off. I howled with agony, but managed to slash the creature's belly with the wakizashi. The sharpness of the daedric blade separated the scaly hide and glowing gore gushed forth. The jaws relaxed momentarily and I pulled free. The enchantment of my sword struck and the daedroth's own life force flowed into me, binding my separated shoulder.
The monster was handicapped; holding its entrails in with one great clawed hand. Then in a coursing flash of restorative magic the huge gash was healed. I struck again with the lifetaker, leaving a minor wound. The creature resisted the spell of the blade and raked me with its claws as I spun away. Then we crashed together a final time.
Once the snapping electrical charges had dissipated I had unlimbered my steel shield, and in the final exchange I managed to smash it sideways into the widespread jaws. The steel flexed under the pressure, but held for the brief moment needed for the wakizashi to slash across the throat. I released the grips and let the shield fall with the daedroth into a splashing shower of its glowing blood. The lifetaker drained the last of the beast's ebbing life forces into my own flagging reserves.
From above, on the ramp, came a sardonic voice. "Impressive outlander," was all he said, then Baladas turned and headed back to his study in the uppermost reaches of the tower. From the top of the ramp he shouted back down. "Clearly you won't be dissuaded. There is a guest room. Rest, and clean off that gore. I will see you tomorrow."
Day 113: The coming war
I spent the day like a Telvanni wizard; isolated in a high tower. Baladas seems eccentric to me and to the local folk in Gnissis, but among the Telvanni his reclusive lifestyle is the norm. Getting past his summoned daedroth earned me a brief audience. A promise to share unique knowledge is the only thing that gained me an ally.
Like all Telvanni, Baladas is opposed to the dissemination of magical knowledge and products to the common public. In Morrowind the long lives of the Dunmer give almost everyone the opportunity to pick up a few spells, but the Telvanni wizards have devoted themselves to centuries of study and they guard their secrets jealously. The assimilation of Morrowind into the empire brought the Mage's Guild, with its more commercial view of magica. There is a basic difference of view between the Telvanni and the guild that may be impossible to reconcile.
I had hoped that I could find among the Telvanni a master of alteration magic who would teach me. Baladas conceded that there might be such masters, but the animosity of the Telvanni towards the guild would be an insurmountable obstacle. Even in their remote towers the Telvanni counselors are aware of my rise within the ranks of the guild. Soon I can expect to be banned from Telvanni territory.
Baladas himself would not have anything to do with such a ban, obviously, since he has abandoned Telvanni territory himself. The Telvanni, perhaps better than anyone, see the coming war with Dagoth Ur. The Telvanni council is looking at it as an opportunity to increase their own autonomy as the temple will be sorely pressed and the empire will face a revolt from a force completely outside their understanding. Baladas thinks the council is underestimating Dagoth Ur. He also suspects that with the external pressure holding them together reduced the Telvanni will fall into active battles among themselves. The bonds of honor that hold House Redoran together, in his opinion, offer the best defense against the forces of Red Mountain.
We did not forge such a bond of honor; more a bond of necessity. Rather than strike in defense against Dagoth Ur, the Telvanni's first blow in the war will be the destruction of the Mage's Guild. Baladas deems that unwise, but with Trebonius offending the Telvanni at every turn while weakening the guild's defensive position it is almost unavoidable. It is unavoidable without replacing Trebonius. Baladas gave me access to his library, and in a day of study I have gained enough insight to merit promotion to warlock rank. Baladas may not approve of the guild, but he deems it necessary for the coming war and would have it led by his ally; or perhaps led by his puppet. He has helped me, but he bears careful watching.
Another aspect of our newfound alliance is that Baladas, in his long life, has garnered some knowledge of Aldmeris. I will be returning to Gnissis with the translation of Hanging Gardens and the books in ancient Dwemer that I have collected. Perhaps with his help I can solve the riddle of the dwarves.
Day 114: Warlock
I am writing early, for tonight the guild hall will be celebrating my promotion. Edwinna has declared me a warlock. Many of my friends from the hall in Balmora have already arrived. With Ajira providing the beverages I am sure I will not be able to write later.
I may be the next Archmage of Vvardenfell. That remains to be seen. For now though I am just a wandering mage. Today I wandered a long way, and my feet hurt. Like any day on the roads of Morrowind danger was ready at hand. As I approached Ald-ruhn with the sun settling behind me in the west I found an opportunity to stand for safety and security. Perhaps the Ashlander couple that I met will speak well of me when they return to their clan.
I met Falanu Indaren first. She was standing atop a small hill peering into the desolate ashlands around her. I turned slightly from my path and approached. She was scraped a bit, and her clothes dirty and torn. I thought briefly of putting an arrow through her; fearing that she could be maddened with the corprus disease. She shouted, and I did not act on the thought.
"Outlander! I need your help! My husband is lost!" she cried.
I trudged up the gritty ash slope to get whatever details I could. I don't know what it is about the Dunmer. They generally use 'outlander' as the next best thing to a curse, but it doesn't even register on them that calling me outlander and then asking for help is a contradiction. As my father would say; 'strange ways aren't strange to strange folk. Never be surprised.' Whatever she wanted to call me there was no way I would refuse aid to a distressed traveler.
Falanu and her husband Drerel had been headed into town to trade for basic necessities when they were attacked by a pack of nix hounds. It occurred to me that someone who didn't have the weapons skills of spells to deal with nix hounds ought not be standing on a hill top in the Ashlands. I turned a wary eye to the skies and scanned for cliff racers. Falanu had fallen down, and the only thing she could think to do was be still, hoping the hound pack would think her dead. Her husband had run, leading the hounds away from her. She thought he had headed west.
I led her down the hill and settled her in a thicket of trama vine, then set off to the west looking for tracks. The recent ash storm had left a clean slate, and the scene of the attack was fairly easy to find. To the west was a sandy ridge crowned with a spine of rock pinnacles. As I climbed the slope I thought that among those pinnacles would be where I would seek shelter if I were being swarmed by nix hounds. Sure enough, between two close set rock faces I found the battered Dunmer. He had driven off the hounds once he got his back to the stone, but was too battered to risk being caught in the open.
Drerel was thrilled to hear that his wife was alive, and for the most part unharmed. He was also very happy when I cast a healing spell that eased his own wounds. I led him to the thicket and was warmed by the reunion of the happy couple. Most of their trade goods had been scattered and lost in the frantic activity so I did not expect any reward, but they did give me a book to add to my collection.
That collection of books is filling my room here in the guild hall, but the real prizes I will take with me when I leave. I spoke briefly with Tuls Valen at the temple, and my next pilgrimage will take me to Koal Cave, which is near Gnissis. I will deliver my Dwemer books to Baladas and we will see what he can decipher from them.
Day 115: Return to Gnissis
I should have taken some sort of transport yesterday. I knew that the next pilgrimage would be taking me right back to Gnissis. After yesterday's long walk my desire to do the pilgrimage correctly and walk to the Koal Cave was nonexistent. Last night's blowout party at the Mage's Guild didn't help either. It was well past noon before I cleared the bitter burn of sujamma from the back of my throat. I should know better than to get on the receiving end of Ajira's brewing skills. She is a sweetheart though. I may just have a soft heart for Khajiiti women, but she was my first mentor in the guild and has always stood by me and helped me out. Right now being no exception. She has heard recently about a powerful artifact; the Staff of Magnus, and has passed the rumor on to me. Sometime soon I will need to journey to Mount Kand and recover this valuable relic.
For today though I trudged back to Gnissis. Baladas welcomed me back. I was half afraid that he would have disappeared back up into his tower and left another guardian to insure his privacy. I don't think I was up to battling another daedroth today. Fortunately I didn't have to. Getting his hands on the book, Hanging Gardens, was far too much of an attraction to him. He is convinced that with that for a key he will be able to translate the other Dwemer books, which he says are called The Egg of Time and Divine Metaphysics. It seems we may soon have an answer to one of history's greatest riddles. What became of the Dwemer? I suspect Trebonius will not be pleased when the assignment he handed me as a dead end makes me famous throughout the guild.
While I was excited to be bringing the books I did not forget the purpose of my travels today, that being the pilgrimage. I did what Tuls Valen calls 'walking meditation', dwelling on the goal and lessons of the pilgrimage to Koal Cave. Koal Cave is the site of another of Vivec's legendary encounters, this time with 'Ruddy Man', the father of the Dreugh. No one knows how Ruddy Man came to be. He may have been a human or elf that underwent some transformation; through curse or his own miscalculation, or perhaps even by intent. In any event the fearsome aquatic dreugh trace their origins back to him.
When the ancient Dunmer followed Veloth to Vvardenfell, the dreugh were established in the surrounding waters, though nowhere near as plentiful as they are now. How the Ruddy Man would still be alive in Vivec's time is a question that I will not be asking in the temple, but apparently Vivec defeated the Ruddy Man in his stronghold at Koal Cave. Then he spared his vanquished foe. Vivec claimed for the Velothi, who by then were known as the Dunmer, the right to use the tough hides of the dreugh to make armors. How the dreugh may feel about their progenitor bartering away their hides is another question best left unasked.
Tomorrow I will complete the trek to the Koal Cave, and reenact the climactic battle. I suspect the dreugh who choose to inhabit this historic location will be no ordinary dreugh.
Day 116: Koal Cave
I could have completed the pilgrimage to Koal Cave satisfactorily by just leaving an offering at the shrine. The shrine is right inside the entrance; the shrine of valor. Perhaps that is why I couldn't just walk away from the cave. I had to enter the watery depths of the dreugh.
The entry cavern, where the shrine stands, was not intimidating. In only a few spots too deep to wade and with the stone overhead only occasionally dipping to the water there was no call for magic. A few slaughterfish were easily dispatched. The close confines of the cave helped contain their darting attacks, making them easier targets than their open water cousins. Beyond the entry cavern things went downhill; quite literally. The cavern plunged into the depths, becoming completely submerged.
The opportunity to practice my alteration magic seemed ideal. I cast my water breathing spell and plod onward. My heavy ebony boots gave me good purchase, allowing me to continue as if the grotto were just another Vvardenfell cave. The one thing I did not consider was that the confined space that had given me the advantage over the slaughterfish was taking on a new dimension. Standing firmly on the bottom in my heavy boots I was limited to two dimensions. The slaughterfish had three. So did the dreugh.
I wandered blithely along, picking pearls out of huge kallops that dotted the bottom stones. At a crossing of passages I cast my spell of buoyancy and floated up to take the turning to the right, again settling to the bottom as the spell wore off. The passage led into an open cavern, with tall strands of bright green sea plants swaying gently. Darting through the fronds a school of slaughterfish converged on me.
I was hampered by the water. The Akiviri style of the wakizashi calls for quick slashing movements, which were impossible to perform. Short jabbing movements, more appropriate for a shortsword or other piercing blade encountered less resistance, but the grip of the wakizashi made them awkward and inaccurate. Fortunately the slaughterfish does not have much resistance to magica, and even a glancing blow from the lifetaker blade would drain their life force and heal my injuries. I felt lucky to be in good shape as numerous dead slaughterfish rose slowly towards the stone roof. I gathered pearls and valuable equipment lost by previous adventurers. Some had probably been abandoned in desperate attempts to reach air. Bones attested to the frequent failures. A shortsword gleamed with enchantment from among the litter, and I claimed it gratefully.
Armed with the shortsword, whose enchantment froze the slaughterfish that it struck into grotesque ice sculptures, I continued my explorations. I began to wonder if there were actually dreugh in the cave, and if I could find them before my dwindling reserve of magica called for me to return to the surface. Maintaining the water breathing spell and the need for buoyancy to climb the vertical turnings of the cave were a slow but continuous drain.
I was close to turning back for fear of running out of magica when a huge dreugh erupted out of a thick tangle of weed. In a swirl of powerful tentacles it struck, crashing me into the stone wall of the cave. I jabbed frantically with the icy blade of the shortsword. The dreugh warlord was far more resistant than a slaughterfish, but with repeated strikes the enchantment took effect. The dreugh landed a crushing blow with its great claw and spun away with one tentacle frozen into immobility.
To say the dreugh was staggered would misrepresent it. The base of three tentacles gives the creature of the deep a fluid grace. With one of the three frozen that grace was gone, and the three dimensional environment gave room for lurching movements that could not be covered by what staggering brings to mind. I quickly pushed the cap from a healing potion, covering the neck with my thumb until I could bring the flask to my lips and suck the restorative contents into my mouth. By the time the waters had thawed the dreugh's injury my own were healing rapidly and the battle was rejoined.
With newfound respect for my icy blade the dreugh was far more cautious. It struck in wild rushes, accelerating to great speed and raking with its claws as it passed. My shield caught water like a sail in a strong wind, but by continuous slow efforts I kept it ready between us, and fended off the violent charges. I struck my own blows on the passing form as best I could. Eventually the powerful warlord settled to the bottom, overwhelmed by numerous wounds. Like Vivec in the legend I let the creature live. Leaving the cave I took great satisfaction in having added the extra flourish to the pilgrimage to the shrine of valor.
Day 117: The seventh grace
I rode back to Ald-ruhn on the silt strider this morning. This pilgrimage thing is a whole lot of walking and I was tired. I took the opportunity to read about the seventh and final pilgrimage of the seven graces, so when I saw Tuls Valen at the temple I felt like I was ready to go, and he agreed. A good thing as it turns out. I may not have time for Pilgrimages for a while.
When I left the temple I stopped in at the Mage's Guild hall. Since my arrival on the silt strider would be easily observed I wanted to give anyone who might be watching for me an obvious place to look. I expected the Dark Brotherhood to be looking for me. As it turns out someone else was. There was a message for me at the hall from Gildan.
Gildan is a Cyrodiil who lives in Ald-ruhn. If she lived in Balmora she would certainly have a problem with Ranis since she is not a guild member, but Edwinna is a little lax about recruiting members. As long as she isn't casting spells for hire or offering training Edwinna won't make any demands of Gildan. I think Gildan might be connected with the local thieve's guild in Ald-ruhn for cover, but her primary loyalty is to the Blades. I knew that a message to see her would most likely be a summons from Caius. It was.
Gildan and I discussed the situation at length. My cover in the Mage's Guild is a sword that cuts both ways. My high rank is starting to draw attention to my movements, especially when the guild guides are involved. Getting a message from Gildan and suddenly transporting to Balmora would bring undue attention to her, as well as raising questions about me. We agreed that departing as expected on the pilgrimage to Ghostgate then continuing on to Balmora on foot would be the best way to proceed. I will see Caius tomorrow.
Tonight I am again a guest in the Redoran hostel in the tower of dusk at Ghostgate. I have meditated in the temple and prepared myself for the offering at the shrine of pride, which lies right inside the great gates. The shrine of pride commemorates those who have served the temple in containing Dagoth Ur and his minions. In the morning I will complete the pilgrimage.
Day 118: Open war with the Sixth House
Tonight I am a guest of the Imperial Legion. Buckmoth Fortress is just south of Ald-ruhn. I've passed it many times, but never had occasion to stop here. Until now.
I woke this morning and slipped quickly into the crater region of Red Mountain to complete the pilgrimage. The shrine blessed me with a powerful defensive shell of magica which lasted most of the day. If I ever have to return to the crater I will definitely stop at the shrine for this blessing as the crater is fraught with perils. Today the magical shielding enhancing my armor was wasted on the innumerable cliff racers of the Foyada Mamaca.
I reached Balmora in the early afternoon, slipping into town over the eastern ridge cloaked in the powerful chameleon spell of my amulet. Caius' house is set directly against the hillside, allowing me to leap onto his roof. At the signal pounded from above Caius affects the darting glances of the skooma addict and opens his door to survey the street, as if in the depths of a paranoid delusion. I glided undetected through the open door as he paced furiously, peering around the corners of his home. With a last backward glance Caius came back inside and closed it to complete the act. Seeing the powerful leader of the Blades emerge from the pretense of the aged sugar-tooth is always a welcome shock. His cover is perfect.
My own cover, Caius declared, is laughable. "Arvil," he said, "when you arrived here I told you to establish a trade of some sort. I meant some way to explain your presence in Vvardenfell as you went about your business that would keep people from wondering. When people wonder what you are up to they pay attention to you and a spy doesn't want attention. You, on the other hand, have become the center of attention everywhere you have gone. No one thinks you are a spy, but moving about with any subtlety seems completely beyond you."
I sat on the edge of the bed, since Caius' spare room offered no other seat. I really could not think of anything to say.
The spymaster continued. "The Mage's Guild has no idea that you are a spy. Sharn keeps an eye on things for me there. She says there is a pretty widespread desire to see you become the Archmage, and those who don't want that predominantly want you killed. The current Archmage, for example."
I shrugged. He was right. My cover in the Mage's Guild has turned into a beacon. "By the way," he said, "the Telvanni want you deported." My mouth opened and closed, but I still had nothing to say. "Meanwhile, your private war with the Cammona Tong has slowly filtered into almost common knowledge in Balmora. The Hlaalu don't want you deported, but only because Orvas Dren doesn't want you to get away."
"Caius," I said, "I really didn't mean for all this to happen. Things just seem to...get out of hand."
He shook his head, partly in disgust, partly in amusement. "I know," he said. "I used to have this plan about a fake Nerevarine. The Temple, by the way, is awash in two rumors. The Ashlanders are abuzz that there is a mad outlander claiming to be the Nerevarine so the Ordinators are looking into that. Then Tuls Valen in Ald-ruhn has been talking about you, the outlander pilgrim who follows Vivec's path without any resorting to silt strider or easing of the burdens in any way. There's talk of promoting you in the temple ranks, but some say you are rising too fast for an outlander. If, make that inevitably when, they determine that both of these rumors revolve around the same person the temple is liable to explode."
"You said I should join the temple Caius. It wasn't my idea."
"Join it, not take it over! Can you do anything halfway? Nevermind. You can't. I know that even though you probably don't." He rolled his eyes and leaned against the edge of his desk. "Forget it Arvil, you just are what you are. At least amongst all your exploits no one would guess you have time to be in the Blades. I have a mission for you."
He drew out a scroll of paper. "This is a dispatch report from Raesa Pullia at Buckmoth Fort. My contacts in the Imperial Legion acquired a copy." He unrolled the parchment and referred to it intermittently. "The legion has started looking into the activities of the Sixth House Cult, and they sent a scouting party to investigate a base, rumored to be on the coast somewhere. The scouting party was wiped out to the last man, and that last man staggered into Buckmoth distorted beyond recognition with corprus disease. She thinks the garrison at Buckmoth needs additional support before they take any further action. That support is not coming any time soon; not the way she expects anyway. Despite your high profile you can still present yourself as a mercenary. Find out all you can from her, then find out all you can about this base...then destroy it."
I told him about the bases I had discovered in the northern ashlands, and at Mamaca.
"Well, the Sixth House already considers you an enemy then, so nothing new there. Try not to get recruited into the legion while you're about this. With your misguided ideas of being inconspicuous you'd probably end up a general."
I cast a teleportation spell and appeared in the courtyard of the Balmora temple. Teleportation is a terrific thing for an agent, since it leaves no tracks. I could just as easily have been coming from anywhere as from Caius' nearby house. Before anyone could recognize me I hurried to the guild house and teleported to Ald-ruhn, then quickly used another spell, arriving at the entry to the Imperial Shrine here at Buckmoth Fort.
I don't know if I qualify as a mercenary. Raesa Pullia was happy enough to accept the services of a high ranking mage, but had little to offer as payment. I do have Imperial authority to march into any known or suspected Sixth House stronghold and investigate, with no repercussions should violence ensue and rights of salvage for any treasures or goods found to be held by enemies of the empire.
They also provided a bed, which I am about to gladly use. Tomorrow may be a long day.
Day 119: A long day indeed
When I went to bed last night I expected a long day of searching for the Sixth House base. I have had a long day. Mostly I spent it with Caius' voice echoing in my head, saying "don't end up recruited into the Legions." I did spend the day among soldiers, who did accept me as one of their own, at least temporarily.
The recent loss of the scouting party, and the harrowing death of their one comrade who made it back to the fort, has cast a pall over the garrison here. They have assigned patrols in the surrounding ashlands, and occasionally make a showing in Ald-ruhn. Today they didn't do any of those things.
I awoke once again to the sound of howling winds. The soldiers stirred uneasily. Everyone knows the ashstorms blow down from Red Mountain, and Red Mountain is the source of the blight. Their recent direct experience with the corprus disease has left a raw wound. Their fellow soldier, Barlad Falown, died a horrible death, raving and shrieking and clawing at his own flesh, which grew back as fast as he could tear chunks loose with his gnarled hands. I heard the story at least ten times today. As much as they want to forget it, a soldier's way is to just keep telling the tale until they grow numb.
I learned some tricks about smithing, and repaired my weapons. The smiths of the fort are very talented, but most of the soldiers at some point broke out stone and leather and sharpened their blades themselves. Warriors. If they aren't using their weapons they are tending to them. Or playing games to pass the time while sheltering in their fort with an ashstorm howling outside. I lost a small fortune. I did not know there were so many ways to gamble; pitching gold coins to see who could land closest to a wall, drawing racer plume quills from a tube, looking for the long quill that takes the pot, rolling the knucklebones of a kagouti and betting on which side will face up when they come to rest.
Even with all the entertainments the day dragged. Near evening the wind began to slacken, and tomorrow everyone expects to return to their duties. For me that will be a long walk to Gnaar Mok, and the search for the Sixth House base called Ilinubi.
Day 120: Incurable
I have caught the corprus disease. I have caught the corprus disease. I reached the Sixth House base. I found Dagoth Gares. I killed him. With his dying breath he cursed me with the corprus disease. I have caught the corprus disease, and there is no cure.
I am sitting on a stone altar deep in Ilinubi cavern. There doesn't seem to be much point in going anywhere. I have the corprus disease. Before we battled Dagoth Gares called me Nerevar. He said if I go to Red Mountain and submit to Dagoth Ur that I will be welcomed as a friend by the Sixth House. He said that the Sixth House, House Dagoth, was not destroyed, only sleeping. He delivered a message from Dagoth Ur. Then he cursed me with corprus disease. I have corprus disease.
My mind will deteriorate until I am raving, my body will grow wild lumps of flesh whenever I am injured, and in my madness I will cause my own injuries; tearing my own flesh to eat. My own flesh; Dagoth Gares says the sleepers call it the divine food when they eat their own flesh. Dagoth Gares; he gave me the corprus disease. I am cursed.
The Temple considers the 'divine disease' a sign of evil. They will destroy me given the chance. People will shun me. I cannot go home. I have the corprus disease. I will die a raving mad hulking beast.
It is a disease of the mind. I will lose my skills. The mage's guild will not allow me in their halls. I will never be the Archmage of Vvardenfell. I will not even be a mage. I will be a grotesque beast built on the frame of a man. The frame of a man who is dying. Actually, the frame of a man already dead; dead of the incurable corprus disease. I could just lie here on the cool stones of the altar to die. The Sixth House has broken and fled this place. Ilinubi could be my tomb.
Wait. Dagoth Gares called me Nerevar. The Nerevarine prophecies spoke of corprus. What did they say? I must remember. "The curse of flesh before him flees" It is the second trial of the seven visions. "Curse of flesh" must be the corprus. Nibani thought it was, but it must be. She didn't know what it meant, but it must mean that I get cured of the disease. If I am the Nerevarine I must get cured. Maybe if I find the Nerevarine he cures me to show that he is the Nerevarine. Nibani said that I had a part to play, but I wasn't necessarily the Nerevarine.
I could go to Red Mountain and present myself to Dagoth Ur. Dagoth Gares said that Dagoth Ur wants me as an ally. More likely a slave. But he cursed me with the corprus. And he called me Nerevar; not someone for Nerevar to heal; Nerevar.
I must make note of all that Dagoth Gares said before he died. My mind may grow weak before I am cured. I am Nerevar. I must be cured. To think otherwise is too horrible to contemplate. I must be cured.
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