Oblivion Day 45 - End of an Era, Part 2

13 Frost Fall, 3E433

Imperial City

~~~

The ride from Cloud Ruler Temple to the Imperial City is not a long one, but my fatigue and worry over what awaited us made it seem like a lifetime. I rode behind the others at some distance, unwilling to be part of whatever energetic conversation occupied the three of them during the entire trip.

Either by luck, recognition of whom they were looking at, or a desire not to tangle with the escorting Blades, our little party was not bothered by any banditry, hostile creatures, or roving animals. While this was certainly a good thing, I would have welcomed a distraction from my apprehension which served only to make the journey seem to take even longer.

We arrived at the Wawnet Inn just outside of the City as the sun disappeared completely below the horizon and made our way down the huge bridge connecting the City to the mainland. Mindful of the Mythic Dawn assassins that used to ambush me just inside the gates, I insisted on entering the city first to be safe.

This led to an amusing and slightly embarrassing greeting from a city guard who claimed meeting the 'Hero of Kvatch' was a great honor...just as Martin and his escort arrived behind me. Of course the guard did not know who Martin was, but I think recognition of the Amulet of Kings was starting to dawn on him as we walked by.

High Chancellor Ocato was waiting for us inside the Council's meeting hall. Notified earlier by Martin's messenger, Ocato had convened the Council and each member voted to recognize Martin's claim to the throne. He and Martin started to discuss the timing of a coronation ceremony when a guard rushed inside, panicking.

Mehrunes Dagon's cultists, having remained undetected within the Imperial City during the Crisis, had somehow learned of Martin's arrival and sprung their trap. The guardsman exclaimed that Oblivion Gates had opened all over the city and the Guard were already being overwhelmed by Daedra.

High Chancellor Ocato urged the man to take courage in the fact that the Empire had a true Emperor again, but I found his words less than reassuring, having seen what a horde of Daedra could do to a city. Ocato then turned to Martin and asked what his orders were, suggesting that it might be prudent to concentrate the Guard around the Palace.

But Martin disagreed, as did I. Without the Dragonfires alight, there was little we could do except die in the besieged palace. Martin had to be escorted to the Temple of the One and once again I was along for the ride. Ocato ordered what few guards had managed to make it to the council chambers to form up around the Emperor just as cultists burst inside the hall and charged. Two cultists against two guards, a determined would-be Emperor, an Imperial Battlemage, and an anxious Khajiit?

I suppose I should give them credit for determination, if not awareness.

The city was bathed in the red light of Oblivion and we were immediately assaulted outside the Council's chambers as we filed out. No desperate cultists this time, but well-armed Dremora backed up by Daedroth. If this was an example of what was rampaging all over the city then I have little doubt the city would have fallen quite shortly to these forces alone.

The Palace guards laid into our foes with a great deal more skill than the unfortunate guardsmen outside of Bruma had been able to. Despite that the battle seemed to not be going in our favor until a sudden charge by a group from the Watch smashed into the Daedric flank, killing one Daedroth outright as the rest of us struggled against our individual combatants. I accounted for a single Dremora myself and watched Martin and the High Chancellor kill a second Daedroth together. Once our little battle was over one of the late-arriving guardsman saluted out of breath and gasped that he and his men had run the whole way from the Legion barracks to the Palace, all of them being the first and last to escape before the compound was embroiled in its own private war against Oblivion. We could expect no more help, but Martin had more soldiers at his back now than he ever had. Our situation seemed to be improving.

Green Emperor Way was empty of any further enemies, but we were considerably less lucky at the entrance to the Temple district. Just outside the gate separating the two districts lurked three Flame Atronachs, several Dremora, and an Oblivion Gate from which Clannfear were excitedly bounding out of.

Despite the odds being against us, our little band fared very well, dispatching all the Daedra without a loss to our side. Martin ordered three guards to stand watch outside the Gate and motioned everyone onward into the Temple of the One.

He was ahead of me at the time and I remember very clearly his sudden halt. He turned to me and grabbed my arm as I caught up to him. Confused, I started to ask why he stopped, when I saw fear in his eyes for the first time. Parched from the smoke and the fighting as the rest of us were, he choked out words that I shall remember until the end of my days should those days ever arrive.

"We're too late! Mehrunes Dagon is here!"

The Daedric Prince of Destruction had come to claim Tamriel, or reclaim it according to the late Mankar Cameron. Perhaps the Mythic Dawn leader was right. Martin hurriedly explained that the barrier between Tamriel and Oblivion had to be completely gone for the Daedric Prince to be able to materialize on this Plane, making the Dragonfires just about useless. I cannot say how it occurred, but if there needed to be such a barrier to then one could assume Mankar's story is at least partially true. It is not as if there are barriers against, say, Azura's return. Perhaps Tamriel really is a secluded, walled portion of Mehrunes Dagon's Plane of Oblivion. The Dragonfires could now not be lit to any effect, but Martin seemed to have a plan and he said it still depended on reaching the Temple, so our war-band charged towards the Temple, engaging the Daedra milling about in front of Mehrunes Dagon.

With the Daedra occupied and the giant Prince seemingly unable to see us yet, Martin and I dashed between the two giant feet and into the now-crumbling Temple. Once inside the doors we both crept behind the Temple's pillars, mindful of the giant just outside.

Martin nodded to himself, then smiled at me. He said that he had to do what must be done and that the task of rebuilding Tamriel would fall on other shoulders. With that he clasped both my shoulders and grinned, stating that "the Dragon" awaited. I remember scanning the open ceiling of the Temple, half expecting to see an actual Dragon descending from the sky. Folly, of course, but I do not think a Dragon would have surprised me after everything else I have seen.

I stayed crouched behind my pillar as Martin strode to the center of the Temple, but then the whole side of the building caved in and suddenly Mehrunes Dagon was there, staring down at us.

Now, I do feel that I am a pretty brave Khajiit. Contrary to the common prejudice, I do not think I sneak about everywhere and when time comes to stand and fight I have done my part. No one on Vvardenfell or Solsthiem could say I lack for courage and while in Cyrodiil I have stepped into Oblivion time and time again only to return to Tamriel victorious. To say I have come a long way from my Auxiliary days of road patrol and bear-hunting is not debatable. But when Mehrunes Dagon turned his gaze on me I froze in complete terror. There was nothing against him that I could do. Perhaps Lord Dagoth's "blessing" would have somehow saved me from death, but the sight and sounds of the immortal Mythic Dawn cultists continuously being burnt alive came to mind and I am sure Mehrunes Dagon is a creative torturer.

I managed to turn my gaze away so that I could find Martin and tell him to flee, but he was standing in the middle of the Temple, calmly gazing at the Daedric Prince. He waited until Mehrunes Dagon was looking at him, then removed the Amulet of Kings and cast it upon the ground. Beams of painfully bright light erupted from the shattered amulet, forcing me to shut my eyes. When the light subsided I opened them again to see something I shall never see again for as long as I live.

A dragon composed entirely of fire rose into the sky from where Martin had been standing and roared a challenge at the Daedric Prince of Destruction. The Dragon that Martin spoke of was not the beasts of legend, but Akatosh, first of the Gods and the architect of the sacrificed Amulet of Kings. I am not sure how Martin knew what would happen. Perhaps his past involvement with Daedric magics somehow led to this belief, who can say?

Mehrunes Dagon swung his massive axe at the Dragon, but it seemed to pass harmlessly through its body of fire. Akatosh or Martin, I do not know who was in control then, landed a blow upon the Prince's throat which appeared to weaken him, then struck a raking blow against his chest. I did not think the blows great, but apparently they had more substance to them than just the physical, for bright light started to shine out of the wounded Prince and with a roar, he suddenly vanished in a flash of light.

Martin, the avatar of Akatosh, as I prefer to think of it, landed inside the Temple and looked around. I started to get up from the surprising safety of my pillar, thinking that Martin would simply return to his regular form. But with a cry of triumph, Martin looked to the stars, spread his avatar's wings, and froze forever into stone.

The High Chancellor chose that precise moment to dash inside the ruined Temple, giddily exclaiming that the battle for the Imperial City had been won, the Gates suddenly destroyed, Daedra vanquished, and Mehrunes Dagon gone. He asked where Martin was and I gestured towards the statue of Akatosh. Ocato was quick to understand. He and the soldiers outside had witnessed the short battle, but had not known that Martin's sacrifice had been required to summon Akatosh's strength,

He explained that the Amulet, once shattered, had joined the blood of divine Akatosh with the blood of kings, Martin's, enabling the God to manifest briefly and cast Mehrunes Dagon back to Oblivion, this time forever. The Dragonfires were no longer required, which was just as well for there was now no way to light them. 

Ocato admitted that the Empire was now in trouble without an Emperor, but he seemed relieved that whatever trouble there was going to be would be of the more mundane variety than what he had been dealing with. He then clapped his hands together and declared an end to such a depressing conversation, stating that it was time for celebration and remembrance. He declared me the 'Champion of Cyrodiil', a title that until today I would have felt I deserved, but now my small sacrifices and struggles seem rather paltry. Being the Champion awards me a suit of Imperial Dragon armor which is usually reserved for the Emperor himself and a title from within the 'Order of the Dragon', an Imperial knighthood founded by Tiber Septim I otherwise know little about. Ocato proudly told me I was one of six awarded such a knighthood, but neither the armor or the title brings me joy.

Guards were still stationed by the district gates as usual and one asked me if the battle was really over. I guess for those slugging it out in the streets against the Daedra it was a sudden end to a terrifying struggle. Apparently the Daedra attempted to flee after Mehrunes Dagon was banished, but the Gates collapsed moments after, leaving the invasion force cut off and disorganized. The battle then swung to the favor of the Imperial garrison and the Daedra were mercilessly slaughtered one-by-one. One of the gate watchmen declared that the "statue of the Dragon" was the monument of the city's deliverance. I could not bring myself to tell him the truth.

The adrenaline of the fight had worn off by then and I had not slept in over a day, so what more fitting place to rest in tonight than the Tiber Septim hotel? The proprietor babbled on about the clouds of fire in the sky and the Daedra she was forced to bar her door against, but I heard little of it really. I paid for a bed, grimly amused that she was still charging a fee after such an event.

I admit I do not miss Martin as much as others might expect of me. I am glad and proud to say that he called me a friend, but he and I knew each other for a very brief time and interacted even less. While I was out risking my life to fetch the items and equipment towards his requirements, he studied his books and only at the very end of this disaster became the conduit through which Mankar Cameron's victims were avenged and Mehrunes Dagon eternally barred from Tamriel. Martin's true nature seemed to have existed only for the brief time it was required and I cannot help but wonder how the Empire would have fared under his rule and what awaits it now.

I find myself in the odd position of being suddenly useless. It has only been a month and a half since fate decreed that I escape from my unjust imprisonment, but I rarely had a day of rest since then. Ocato obviously has no use for me other than as something to heap honors upon, I cannot see myself placidly returning to life in the Mages Guild, and there is no longer an Auxiliary Corps to hang about in. I suppose I have time enough to think upon this.

I wanted to make sure I committed everything I could to paper before sleep robbed me of recollection, but I am finished now and who knows what tomorrow will bring?

Oblivion Day 45 - End of an Era, Part 1

13 Frost Fall, 3E433

Imperial City

~~~

It is finally over. Mehrunes Dagon has been banished back to Oblivion, the Gates have collapsed across Tamriel, and the 'Oblivion Crisis' has come to an end.

But I am getting ahead of myself.

Following what is now being called the 'Battle of Bruma' Martin retired to Cloud Ruler Temple and I to my home where I rested for several hours. I had no idea what to expect from Cameron's 'Paradise' and was certainly not going to saunter into it right after the 'Battle of Bruma'. I was stopped by several people as I walked out of Bruma, one of them a city guard who told me nearly the entire town had been watching the fight from the walls, the guardsmen preparing to erect barricades in the streets in expectation of fighting Daedra inside the city. He claimed the all of Bruma cheered when I came running out of the Great Gate with the Daedric siege engine shuddering to a halt just behind me, but I do not remember hearing anything of the sort.

When I arrived at Cloud Ruler Temple I was greeted by a very strange sight: the Great Welkynd Stone and the Great Sigil Stone were gently circling each other in front of the Great Hall's fireplace.

Beneath them was writings I can only assume came from the Mysterium Xarxes. Martin assured me that the portal to 'Paradise' could be opened whenever I was ready for it and I think he was just as eager to be finished with everything as I was. We both agreed that the portal was to be opened immediately. Once I was there though, there was no way of coming back, the portal would close behind me. The only way out would be to destroy 'Paradise' itself via Mankar Camoran's death, a task I found myself looking more forward to than I anticipated.

The portal opened just as the Great Gate did, rising straight up from the stone floor of the Great Hall and erupting into a blaze of light. I stepped through it expecting the typical hellish landscape and was not at all prepared for what I saw.

It was not exactly my idea of Paradise, but Mankar's personal realm with its overcast sky, blue ocean, and lush forests looked almost exactly like Cyrodiil...with some important differences.

Almost immediately a voice seemed to descend from the sky. Mankar Camoran himself, finally confronting me after almost a month of constant conflict. I give him points for working a Khajiit-joke into his first sentence (referring to me as a 'cats-paw'), but the rest was just the same self-important drivel I had received from Dagoth Ur so many years ago.

I followed a rough path along the shore while ignoring Mankar and came across an older Redguard woman armed with a club. I prepared to kill the unfortunate-looking lady, but she simply laughed ruefully and told me my fight was with Mankar, not her. 

She described the area for me. Where she and I stood was a forest known as the 'Savage Garden', the path I was on led to Mankar's palace, and beneath our feet was the 'Forbidden Grotto', the only way between the 'Savage Garden' and Mankar Camoran. Only followers wearing something called the 'Bands of the Chosen' could enter the Grotto, but once inside they never return.

Mankar was a man of his word to the Mythic Dawn. He promised them immortality if they died in his service and that is exactly what they received. Killed while in Tamriel, they were reborn in Paradise, nearly naked and armed with a crude club. Daedra roamed the Savage Garden, killing any Mythic Dawn followers they found. Immortal, they would then be reborn, only to be killed again. The irritating voice of Mankar interjected to explain that their suffering was to harden them to rule the 'new' Tamriel Mehrunes Dagon would bring about. I fail to see how getting constantly and painfully slaughtered by Clannfear and Daedroth is helpful in any way, but I am but a Khajiit, not a leader of the Mythic Dawn.

I wished the poor woman luck and continued on in the direction of Mankar's supposed palace. On my way I was accosted by two Clannfear and a Daedroth, the three too stupid perhaps not to see I was not like their other victims. They likely were reborn as well, though I certainly did not stay around long enough to find out.

At a bridge I had a very strange and oddly cordial conversation with a Dremora calling himself (itself?) Kathutet. I learned a little about the workings of the Dremora society, for lack of a better term and that his "clan" had been responsible for destroying Kvatch. My plunge into the plane of Oblivion and the closure of Kvatch's Great Gate won me the dubious honor of Kathutet's clan's respect. Thus respected, he declared that speaking to me brought him no dishonor. He guarded the only path to Mankar and when I warned him that I was willing to go through him to cross the bridge he begrudgingly acknowledged respect for my bravery, but said I had no chance in battle against him.

I had shamed his "clan" by closing the Great Gate outside of Kvatch, so he offered to allow me to perform a service for him instead, which would bring him as much honor as defeating me in battle.

My choice was a simple one. Battle it was!

He mocked me for having the simple mind of an animal (another Khajiit joke...) and told me my body and name would be reduced to nothing by him. Having said his piece, he drew his sword and our battle commenced.

Maybe he just hoped for release from Mankar's realm. Who can know the minds of Daedra? On his body were enchanted armbands I assumed were the 'Bands of the Chosen'. The way to Mankar Camoran was clear, or so I thought.

The mad man continued to berate me for the effort I was expending in order to destroy him as I entered the Grotto. He explained that Tamriel is just a misnamed Daedric realm within Oblivion and that Mehrunes Dagon was merely reclaiming what was originally his, not invading as it appeared. He then veered off into religious babbling that, despite being raised by the Temple, I have little interest in.

I witnessed a very one-sided battle between a Mythic Dawn cultist and some sort of Daedra I have never seen before. It had the lower body of a spider, but the upper body of something similar to a Dremora. The cultist put up a brave fight with his club, but fell to the Daedra nonetheless.

I advanced cautiously and slew the smaller spiders the creature sent at me and engaged the Daedra in melee combat. It had a disgusting tactic of spitting at me, the saliva hissing into my armor with an acidic reek. I managed to keep the battle short enough that I was not reduced to rags like the immortal cultists. My armor was greatly damaged, something that would have adverse effects later on.

The Grotto got progressively worse the further inside I went. Why no one came out after being given the Bands started to become quite clear: the Grotto was not a reward, but a punishment. Cages containing cultists were dropped into open lava pits, leaving them screaming in unending agony. Particularly cruel was that there was no way to save them. Each cage was one of a pair, the lever controlling them always dropped one into the lava while the other was raised. I could find no key to release the cultists and had no choice but to pass them by, their desperate pleas gradually quieting behind me as I moved further into the Grotto.

A clothed Altmer was pacing back and forth in a room of his own and when he noticed my presence he ran up to me, very excited. He introduced himself as Eldamil and he was a very interesting character indeed. Eldamil was one of the original conspirators who planned the Emperor's assassination and he was the cultist responsible for the opening of the Great Gate of Kvatch which destroyed the whole city and left hundreds dead. But he would not gloat of such accomplishments. Instead he eagerly asked why I was in the Grotto and just about bounced up and down when I told him I was in Paradise to kill Mankar.

Paradise had been good for him, though not in the way promised. As the opener of Kvatch's Great Gate, he was among the first of the Mythic Dawn allowed in after the Daedra had torched the city. While looking for survivors he and a few other cultists chanced upon three townspeople sheltering in a shop. The three immediately rushed Eldamil, killing him before his comrades struck them down. As the one who (unknown to him) nearly killed the Emperor's last heir, he was according the dubious privilege of residing in Paradise.

As I said, Paradise had been good for Eldamil, for he grew disenchanted with his constant torment at the claws of the Daedra and began to feel remorseful for evil he had committed while in Tamriel. Such weakness was abhorrent to Mankar and he placed Eldamil in the Grotto, forced to torture his fellow cultists in some sort of effort to make him less remorseful, I suppose.

Eldamil revealed the secrets of the 'Bands of the Chosen': they could not be removed by the wearer and you could not leave the Grotto from either end while wearing them. Anyone else, however, could remove them for you. Such was the offer he made to me in exchange for taking him along to see the fall of Mankar and the release of, as he put it, "poor, deluded followers".

His plan was not a great one: I was to pretend to be a prisoner under his care and step inside one of the lava cages. Once the Dremora who oversaw the Grotto came to check on Eldamil, he would partially lower my cage and raise it back up once the Dremora left. He would then remove the Bands and accompany me to the end of Paradise. I had no choice but to agree.

I never want to see lava ever again.

Eldamil was true to his word and lifted the cage back up once his conversation with the Dremora ended. Fortunately the cage opposing mine was empty, sparing me the guilt of watching someone get dropped into utter agony. Eldamil removed my bands and led me through the Grotto until we entered a room with a very angry Spider-thing and a Clannfear. Our battle began!

And ended rather quickly, along with Eldamil, though probably temporarily just as with the Daedra. Unfortunately our two foes, plus my guilt-ridden ally, had fallen into the lava upon their brief death. I do hope the man did not awaken in the lava, but I do not know how such a system works here in Paradise. Whatever the case, his only hope, as well as mine, was to kill Mankar and destroy Paradise for good. I continued alone.

Just past those foes were two more, a Daedroth and another Spider, both of which I fought my way through, though not without damage. Just beyond them was a door, mercifully letting me out into Paradise...and rain, as always. In front of me stood what could only have been Mankar's "palace", on the stairs two Mythic Dawn cultists. Mindful of Eldamil, I approached them slowly, but the pair were actually the children of Mankar Camoran and two people whom I had met before, though I did not realize it until the daughter acidly pointed it out.

The woman was Ruma Camoran, the Altmer who demanded I kill the Argonian as part of my initiation when I pretended to be interested in joining so that I could steal the Mysterium Xarxes. I killed her along with the other cultists after my refusal marked me for death, though I had not known she and Mankar were related in any way.

Her brother, Raven Camoran, was less known to me. He was the one who spoke with Baurus in the sewers of the Imperial City, a meeting I interrupted when I assaulted two cultists Raven had secreted in an alcove above them. Baurus had killed Raven. but he managed to blame me just the same.

The two did not attack, instead arrogantly escorting me inside while telling me how joyful it was going to be to see their father strike me down over and over again. But I knew two things they were likely not aware of: one, their father loved to hear himself speak and two, I was very tired of hearing it.

Mankar started just as grandly as I thought he would, referring to me as the 'Champion of Old Tamriel'. If he had anything else to say after that I did not give him the chance to say it. With a leap upon the stairs in front of him I drove my blade into his guts, twisted it, and yanked it out, throwing him clear off the platform. His childrens' roars of rage were short-lived, for they were not warriors.

After they died I removed the Amulet of Kings from Mankar's corpse and started to walk out of the palace, assuming that the portal that brought me here would now have opened with the Amulet in my possession. Instead the palace started to collapse and I ran for the exit...and almost into Martin.

Without Mankar or perhaps the Amulet, Paradise had nothing to keep it going and must have been destroyed, perhaps delivering the Mythic Dawn to the release they had all come to desire.

I handed him the Amulet of Kings and without hesitating he placed it over his head, just as any piece of jewelry might be worn. Only one last action remained before he would truly be the Emperor. While anxiously awaiting my return he had dispatched a messenger to the Imperial City so that the Chancellor would know to expect him. Martin insisted on deferring to the Elder Council's authority in confirming his coronation and with that he and three Blades turned and walked out of the Great Hall, Martin turning his head to implore me to hurry up.

And so to the Imperial City we rode and what awaited us there none of us could have expected...

Morrowind Day 45 - The Archer's Lonesome Death

29 Hearthfire
~~~

I had another dream last night, though this one was a great deal less...physical, I guess I could say. In it, I stood alone on a hill somewhere in Vvardenfell, overlooking a green plain with farms and foraging creatures dotting the landscape. As I surveyed the landscape, a voice spoke up behind me, but I did not turn around. 

"Three lied to you", the voice said, "Three betrayed you, but the one you betrayed was three times true! Lord Voryn Dagoth, Dagoth Ur, steadfast liege-man  faithful friend, bids you come below to Red Mountain once again, shed your flesh and be born again to purge Morrowind of the n'wah!"

At least he is not being subtle any longer. I woke up after the talking stopped and never once turned around or spoke in the dream. I would be tempted to ask if the faceless monsters and shambling mountains of misshapen flesh are his plans for the future of Morrowind and the Dunmer. I suspect my friend and Dagoth Ur share the belief that I may be able to become the Nerevarine. I do not harbor such a delusion for myself.

Folm's latest request will put me close to Maar Gan, on the opposite side of the hills, as well as fairly close to the last known location of Hassour's son. I had hoped to take care of both tasks, but fetching the Propylon stone took up my entire day as I battled Daedra and cultists to fetch a piece of rock.

The day was nicer than most, which in Vvardenfell generally means dull, hazy weather. The walk from Ald'ruhn was uneventful save for the few shots I took at Nix-Hounds with my bow. The shrine of Maelkashishi was said to sit right against the foyoda, so I carefully kept on top of the hills until I spotted the shrine, then slid down the hillside so that I could make a cautious approach. For the most part the shrine was guarded by simple Scamps whom posed no threat, but I also encountered a Daedra I had not seen before.

I am at a loss to describe the creature other than being ash-colored, with long, thin limbs with very long, almost skeletal, fingers. The creature attacked first with spells that chipped away at my spear and cracked my armor before closing the distance to strike at me with its arms. Fortunately, the damage to my equipment was mostly cosmetic and the creature barely had an animal's cunning for battle. A group of them casting their spells could leave a person's armaments severely weakened and their chances of survival quite slim. Had I encountered this Daedra while I was still hefting my simple iron spear and chainmail tunic, I am sure I would have been killed.

After some time of searching about, I was forced to conclude Folm's outlander, Huunen, had not been killed outside of the shrine, which meant going inside. While the treasure is almost always worth the effort, I have faced some of my most difficult opponents inside of the ruined shrines and treasure does nothing good for a dead Khajiit.

 The obvious entrance into the shrine led to a Daedric altar with four cultists wandering about. My invisibility-paralysis trick worked on three of them, but the final cultist, an Orc, resisted the paralysis and spun around to attack me. However, she seemed unsteady and in comparison to most Orcs, barely put up a fight. One of the cultists had an Imperial silver cuirass, perhaps a former officer of the Legion or the killer of one.

The loot was pretty disappointing: some scrolls, a charged soul gem, a few gemstones, and no sign of the Propylon stone. I could see that the statue of Sheogorath rose above the ceiling and into the floor above me, but I had no levitation potions or scrolls to get myself up there. I left the shrine and hiked up the hill it was set against and my scout instinct paid off: The tower of the Daedric shrine was part of the center fixture for the statue and had a separate entrance. I had to jump from the hillside on to the tower, suffering nothing worse than a few scrapes.

The tower entrance opened into the hillside itself and I found myself on a platform several stories high, with more platforms above and below me. I could not see what was above me, but one of the winged female Daedra I encountered in Berandas was pacing around on the lower platform. While shooting her with silvered arrows I discovered that despite the wings, they cannot fly and she fell after five shots.

While I had no ability to levitate, I did have a Slowfall spell. I had never used it before and the sensation of slowly drifting towards the ground while my mind was insisting I should be plummeting to my death was interesting. Similar to levitation, I was able to guide my descent and landed on a small platform high enough that I would be safe from enemies on the ground and low enough that I could jump down without a second spell.

This proved to be wise, as I could spot another one of the equipment-damaging Daedra sulking nearby which had not noticed my arrival. Being on the platform meant I was an easy target for its spells, so I hopped down on the side opposite the creature and used a scroll of Invisibility I had taken from the shrine. The scroll allowed me to sneak up behind the foul-smelling creature and run it through with my spear.

Beyond the creature lurked another one of the winged female Daedra, but she needed a lot of room to maneuver about and the ruins served to keep her contained and clumsy. I took advantage of this with my nimble sword and shield, striking before she could move to bring her barbed tail against me. 

She had been guarding a chest containing a few pearls and emeralds, plus two weak potions of levitation. The ground floor of the cave exited in to the very top of the shrine, where I was attacked by an Imperial, who managed to suffer a "fall" into the shrine below during our brief struggle. I assumed the Propylon stone, if it was here at all, would be on his body, but I decided to leave the way I came in, just in case I had missed anything while drifting down from the entrance.

This choice saved me a great deal of frustration. I reached the ledge I had entered by and was just about to walk out when I noticed two Daedric arrows stuck into a pillar.

The arrows were not stuck straight in, but at a steep angle as if someone had fired them from above. I drank the second levitation potion after collecting the two arrows in the pillar, plus another lying on the ground nearby. I floated up to the only platform above the entrance way and found what must be Huunen's final resting place.

Completely clean and dry, the skeleton was slumped against the cavern wall looking as though it had been there for centuries. At the skeletal feel was two potent levitation potions, eight more Daedric arrows, and a chest containing nothing of notice.

The Propylon stone was near his corpse, but of more importantly, so was an incredibly rare Daedric-enchanted glass longbow. Unlike the spear, the bow is definitely not too heavy a burden for the benefit and I carefully slid it away from Huunen. Hopefully I will have better luck than its previous owner.

But it does raise questions. The man was seen alive fairly recently and had not only a powerful Daedric bow, but a sheaf of very rare Daedric arrows. He had levitation potions enough to get him up to and down from the platform and he was in no danger where he was. Yet despite his precautions and equipment, he was killed. My only guess is that one of the Daedra managed to poison him and he fled to the platform in desperation. But that makes little sense either, for the exit to go outside was closer at any point within the cavern than where I found him. And why shoot the arrows into the rock? Only Huunen knows, but Vvardenfell has turned him into yet another mystery.

Unlike Huunen, I had a Divine Intervention scroll and popped into Gnisis well after the evening had begun. The quickest way to a Mages Guild was Silt Strider and I suffered the trip so that I could be one step closer to finishing my business with Folms that much faster. The Strider stopped at Ald'ruhn some time after midnight and I stumbled into the Mages Guild and collapsed into the nearest bunk.

It is only from habit that I have the energy to write this before sleep claims me, though I have had worse days than this, but certainly none as bad as Huunen had.