Skyrim Day 037 - What's Old is New Again

21 Heartfire, 4E201

Wilderness

~~~

Can no one do anything for themselves in this province? Maybe I am being a bit harsh, but today I have risked my life for very little, visited a place I have already been to, and am now ending the day in a freezing, broken tower with almost nothing to show for my troubles and discomfort. Meanwhile, the reason I am out here is probably settling down to a nice supper at a comfortable table in a heated hall. I must remember to murder Enthir when I next get the chance.

Before leaving the College this morning I dumped the engraved plaque I had taken from Bleak Falls Barrow and asked Tolfdir to take a look at it, maybe show it around a bit, try to figure out just what the thing actually is. The dragon's head on the plaque closely matches the engravings I have been seeing just before ancient, useless words are burned into my head, but I cannot quite make the connection between the two.

I had not planned on staying at the College today and I happened to run into Arniel as he was heading to breakfast, so I asked him if there was anything else he needed for his experiment. I really should have expected that he did. Unfortunately for me, what he needed could only be acquired through Enthir, my rapidly least-favorite individual at the College.

Enthir could provide what Arniel needed...for a price, of course. I was ready to hand over any number of Septims just to avoid another droll task from the slippery Bosmer, but the cost of his assistance was the retrieval of yet another piece of merchandise he parted with too hastily. The job was no more attractive for the fact that the staff had made its way to Fellglow Keep, the place where the late Orthorn had stolen away to with the College's books and where I was sent two weeks ago to undo that little event. 

Apparently more necromancers had moved in and started delicately sourcing magical items for some sort of ritual. Enthir, never one to turn his nose up at profit, sold one of their number a staff that he was now having seller's remorse over. He asked that I travel to the ruined keep and bring back the staff. The survival of his former customers was not a concern. I also strangled him right then and there. I wish I had.

And so it was back into the hills of north Skyrim. I passed by a wrecked horse-and-cart and its former occupants, all of them frozen solid into the ground.

Continuing along the rough-hewn path I came upon a shrine of some sort built up against the mountainside. There were mages examining the shrine's wall, but when I drew closer one of them shouted and started flinging spells at me.

I was very quickly engaged by four mages and spent a lovely time running and jumping all over the place, firing my bow when I could between the giant icicles and fireballs they threw at me. Eventually the last of them fell into the snow clutching an arrow sticking from his chest and I returned to the shrine to see what it was that interested them.

Unaccustomed to finding the things outside, I realized too late that it was another teaching-wall and before I could get away I had a terrific headache and the knowledge of how to spell "ice" in a language no one else is using. Very useful.

Cursing my luck and curiosity I resolved to waste no further time in getting to Fellglow Keep and immediately broke my own promise. Trudging along the road I heard two people arguing and just had to know what it was they were angry about. Their names were Salma and Beem-Ja, a Redguard and Argonian. They were undecided as to whether they should enter the barrow they were camping in front of, but my arrival emboldened the adventurers and they dove inside, calling for me to follow.

The two of them dealt with the spiders and Draugr that infested the barrow and we soon came upon a rather imposing dome of granite. They paid my warnings no heed and rushed up the stairs and inside what I knew to be the tomb of whomever the barrow had been dug for.

The barrow's owner, a hulking seven-foot armored Draugr, was not pleased to have visitors.

In its bony hand the Draugr wielded an Ebony blade, guaranteed to lop off an arm or a leg with a single blow. Against this and his retinue of skeleton archers I had a brave but rather inexperienced Redguard warrior and an Argonian mage above us. Beem-Ja was actually very helpful, killing the skeleton archers with bolts of lightning before turning his magicka against the Draugr Salma and I were dancing around.

The Draugr fell and Salma re-joined Beem-Ja above the little pit we had been fighting in, but they started arguing almost immediately, so I walked back to them to see what the trouble was after their victory.

Their trouble turned out to be the small matter of Beem-Ja announcing he would kill us both and use our blood to enact a ritual designed to siphon the Draugr's power into his own body. I have no idea why these sort of plans are always boastfully declared beforehand. The Argonian had hardly stopped speaking before my battle-ax cleaved his skull in two, greatly startling Salma. Understandable she was very upset and tearfully made an announcement of her own: a retirement from adventuring and a return to her father's home in High Rock. I wished her well and began to walk past the Draugr's ancient throne, when my head exploded.

I had not even noticed the wall of runes this time. A blast of pain and another word: "Fade", spoken and written in the ancient style. Two words in the same day and I could barely see for the pain lancing through my skull. I stumbled out of the barrow and back outside, the sunlight elevating my headache to new, undiscovered heights.

Fortunately the pain diminished somewhat to a dull hammering by the time I found the road again and when a thief jumped out of the bushes demanding my money I irritably asked him to look at the ax on my belt and reconsider his demand. He fled, wisely.

Fellglow Keep had not changed in the two weeks since I had last seen it and I remembered the layout quite well, enabling me to slay the entire group of wayward mages with not a single alarm or shout. Enthir's staff was in a chest stuffed into an alcove at the back of the ruin. When I exited Fellglow it was already night and I decided to investigate the two towers that spanned the river nearby. If they were still abandoned from the last time I visited I would stay there for the night, saving myself an hour's walk in the dark with my head feeling like it was about to split open.

Luck finally showed its hand to me today for the towers were free of inhabitants. I chose the least-frozen bedroll in the least-ruined of the two towers and am not looking forward to a very cold night. Still, I know I will fall asleep eventually and feel all the better for it tomorrow morning, frozen or not. 

Oblivion Day 37 - A Place of My Own

4 Frost Fall, 3E433

Bruma

~~~

Today I decided to pursue the Countess's Madstone rather than the Amulet of Kings. This would seem somewhat counter-productive against the difficulties I have been facing as of late, but with Bruma likely being the next target of Mehrunes Dagon's violent attentions I feel that improving my place there is a worthwhile goal.

The Countess made it sound like the Madstone was hidden in a place rather far away, but following the Akaviri messenger's diary provided me a ride to a cave system no more than twenty minutes from the city. I had only to go to a rock formation known as the 'Dragonclaw Rock', turn west until I came upon a statue of a King long since passed, then north until the cavern's ornate carved door.

I was unpleasantly surprised to find that a tribe of Ogres had taken up residence in the cave and the pass beyond it. An Ogre would likely squash any Auxiliary flat, unless she was quick on her feet and experienced in fighting Ogrims, albeit years ago. I have to say fighting the brutes made me long for my spear of times gone by, but spears have since been removed from the Imperial Legion's list of arms and thus are nearly impossible to find in Cyrodiil. I had to do what I could with my short Elven blade and I did it well, carving through half a dozen Ogres on my way through the cave and into the Pale Pass.

While busy with my bloody business I came across a skeleton whose bony hand was still clutching a packet the cold had preserved. I recognized the writing as Akavir, though of course I could not read it. I took it anyway, hoping to later sell it to a collector interesting in antiquity. Just ahead of the corpse was a door leading to the secluded Pale Pass...and more Ogres.

A bow would have been handy, but I had sold my own off some time ago and was forced to close in and engage the Ogres with my short blade, a dicey proposition at best. I eventually stood victorious and battered within the ruined fort hidden in the Pale Pass after dispatching nearly a dozen Ogres.

For some nefarious reason the fort's ancient garrison still patrolled the halls, the skeletons of the ancient Akavir soldiers wielding rusted shields and swords resembling katanas. Their advanced age did little to help their endurance and what remained of their bodies were soon reduced to splinters.

Deeper inside waited the fort's commander, long dead but still bound to the place by an unshakable sense of duty.

Somehow he mistook a Khajiit for a fellow Akavir and asked if I had brought news from his homeland. Risking a guess, I handed him the leather packet I found on the skeleton and waited to see if I was to do battle with the confused spirit. But when he read the papers his semi-transparent visage broke into a smile and he congratulated me on completing my mission. With that, he declared that he could now rest and then simply disappeared altogether. I suppose stranger things have happened.

I had yet to find the Madstone, but the fort's guardians had been put to rest along with their commander and I passed several piles of bones and equipment as I made my way further into the fortress. The Madstone was on a pedestal in a crumbling room, with nothing to indicate why it was in the Pale Pass to begin with. Perhaps an heirloom of the fort's commander?

The Countess was very excited to receive the Madstone, describing it as even more beautiful than she imagined it would be. To me it appeared to be a large piece of jade inserted into a gold amulet, but she was enamored with the amulet and gave me a rather worthless ring as a reward. She also mentioned that he had a house she was willing to adventurous people such as myself and after some negotiation we settled on a price of ten thousand Septims. The house was unfurnished, but I was informed that a local merchant would have everything I need at reasonable prices.

My new home is in an excellent location, at least for me: right next to the main gate. It was as sparsely furnished as I was warned, with only a simple table, one chair, and a bed.

A quick trip to the local outfitter, a few hours carrying furniture, and I had something approaching a comfortable home.

And with that I finally had a place of my own. The location will likely prove very useful in the times ahead. Tomorrow I will undertake the acquisition of Tiber Septim's ancient armor and be one step closer to recovering the Amulet of Kings.

Morrowind Day 37 - Intrigue at the Library

21 Hearthfire
~~~

I do not think I will ever get used to the sight of the rock Baar Dau hovering over the Temple canton of Vivec. Ringed by construction, it is obvious that the Tribunal Temple considers it safe enough to live within, but I'm uneasy when I can see it and profoundly nervous when I am under it, as I was this morning.

My third contact was a priestess in service to the Temple, Mehra Milo, and my written orders cautioned me to not ask anyone in the Temple for her, as her cooperation with the Imperial throne was unknown within her organization. Fortunately, she worked in the Library, which is open to the public, and I had no issues with finding her.

Identifying myself, she played every part the spy: beckoning me to follow, she led me to a small room in the rear of the library so that we could talk privately. In what was by then a familiar introduction, she apologized for not knowing much about the Sixth House, but did have many notes on the cult of the Nerevarine. According to her, the Temple does not dispute Lord Nerevar's status as a saint and hero of the Dunmer, but does take exception to the belief of Lord Nerevar's reincarnation, which is in conflict with the Temple's worship of the Tribunal as gods. A splinter faction calling themselves the the Dissident Priests preaches against the Temple's dogma and in favor of something very similar to the traditional Ashland beliefs.

The Dissident Priests' founding document is a book titled 'Progress of Truth', possession of which is outlawed by the Temple. She recommended I secure a copy somehow and deliver it to my friend along with the bundle of notes I have collected, which she added to. Reminded of the caution I was urged by my friend when speaking with Mehra, I asked her about him and she had only praise for the man. I suppose it takes all types or he has yet to warm up to anyone else. She admitted to reading a copy of the 'Progress of Truth' some time ago and said that friends of hers whom she suspects also read the book have been disappearing. She believes the Ordinators are responsible and said that if anything ever happened to her, she would leave a message with the code word 'amaya'. She asked that I convey the increasing vulnerability of her position to our friend and I agreed, though I am not sure what he can do.

Finding the book seemed like a daunting task. The Temple has at least one copy, or did, for Mehra and her friends to have read it, but she could offer me no help in figuring out where such a thing would be kept. With my luck it would be in the floating rock. I dismissed any chance of finding the Temple's copy and did the next best thing: I asked a smuggler.

That's not entirely correct, but Jobasha has to be doing some sort of business on the side to be able to afford the rent on his store, which I'm sure is very high. A book store does not seem to me a very lucrative enterprise, but serves well as a front for any number of other businesses whose goods can be concealed within hollowed tomes.

My hunch proved correct, though getting the book from him took some doing. Smugglers and the people who associate with them are instinctively a suspicious lot and Jobasha was no exception. It took five hundred Septims before he was willing to look into his inventory of "special" books which he kept in a locked closet. He had the book and charged me an additional two hundred Septims for it, but I was glad to be rid of the weight of all that coin.

For all the violence and secrecy surrounding the book, I expected more than what it really is: a thick pamphlet from the Dissident Priests detailing their grievances against the Temple. The entire affair probably deserves to be treated more seriously than I am, but that is my friend's job and not mine. My part in this, for now, was over. I teleported back to the Balmora Mages Guild, sold a few gemstones to Ajira and delivered the book and notes to my friend. He thanked me, gave me two hundred Septims and suggested I wander around a bit more, do some more jobs, then come back. Again he suggested I join House Redoran, but I have enough to do right now without taking on more tasks.

It was the middle of the afternoon when I found myself with free time and Ranis's task of collecting the guild "dues" seemed the easiest accomplished. The tardy mage was last seen in a small cavern named Punabi set along the shore of Lake Nabia, which empties via Nabia River into the greater sea. The Dunmer fortress Marandus is strategically built along the lake's shore opposite Punabi and is a tempting target for a quick peek, though I suppose that can wait until I have the Propylon Stone for it.

I had not left myself enough time to reach Punabi before nightfall and came across another smuggler den on the side of the road. At this point it is a waste of time and ink to describe the battle with the three hapless criminals and it will have to suffice with the assurance that they died and I had survived another battle. As usual they did not have much of value: a few scrolls worth keeping and a chunk of raw ebony. 

I am spending the night in their cleanest cot, another violent stop alongside the side of the road in Morrowind. The frequency at which I am killing others is starting to become quite depressing.