Skyrim Day 064 - The Reluctant Dragon

19 Frostfall, 4E201

Fort Dawnguard

~~~

I got as good a sleep at Dawnstar as my late arrival earlier this morning allowed me, but when I visited Silus the man appeared to have not slept at all.

Worry mixed with fatigue marked his face and he lifted the flagon containing his breakfast up in salute when entered, after announcing myself of course. He sighed and took a swig of whatever he was drinking, then laughed ruefully about what a failure he had been. I pointed out that it would have been a greater failure to succumb to Mehrune Dagon's murderous wishes, though privately I wondered how he would have killed me. He brightened up a bit at this and some of his former enthusiasm came back, inviting me to gaze upon the pieces he magically locked away.

I was not any more impressed seeing the pieces together than I did when they were apart. Curiously, the pommel stone was missing from the display, but I did not bring that up. I tested the display case and found it to be securely fastened with no obvious mechanism for a lockpick, so I suspect the case will remain sealed so long as Silus continues to maintain the enchantment.

That anyone interested in the Razor would be just as interested in eliminating him was a point I felt was a mercy to not inform him of. His life is no doubt measured in weeks from today, but it is difficult for me to feel sympathy for a admirer of the Mythic Dawn.

Pending for quite some time now is my report to Isran, the leader of the Dawnguard. My delivery of Serana to his vampire family was likely not going to be good news to him, but I do not recall having much choice in the matter. Being in Dawnstar meant quite a journey ahead of me if I was to arrive at Fort Dawnguard before nightfall.

Naturally this meant I would suffer no end to obstacles along the road.

The first was an Orsimer on the road just outside of the city, well-armed with mace and a sour wit as most of her kind are. I was making no attempt to hide myself, yet she intentionally changed her path to walk right up to me, stopping less than a foot away, a grave mistake.

She sneered and demanded that a "milk-drinker" such as myself should make way for our betters (presumably her) and told me to cry home to my mother while I did so. Such arrogance always deserves to be paid back twice over, after all, I have not seen her fighting any Dragons. 

One uses the advantages given to her. She was standing close enough to me that I could smell the ale on her breath, which was close enough for me to suddenly sink my ebony dagger into her side. She sprang back, drawing her mace and shield from behind her back as she did so. It was smoothly done and she was obviously an accomplished warrior, but a little consideration on the road is always appreciated. Skilled though she might have been, the handicap of already bleeding to death was a bit much to overcome. I was able to slide behind her as I dodged an overhead swing and thrust my blade just under the arm, killing her instantly. Fortunately my dagger was unharmed.

Some minutes down the road later a ragged-looking man jumped out of the bushes and demanded my money. Then he actually took a look at his quarry: a blood-spattered armed Khajiit. He slunk back into the bushes, though I was careful to ensure he was not following me.

Amusingly I had an identical account on a small bridge much further down the road just outside of Windhelm. This time it was an Argonian dressed in the leathers of the Imperial Legion. He demanded my money or my life, but I pointed out trying to acquire either from me would end with his body floating in the frigid waters below. He took the hint and I watched him run down the road to the city, but to both of our surprise a Sabre Cat leaped out of the trees and right on to the unfortunate thief. He was dead before I reached him. The Sabre Cat joined him soon after.

Windhelm is an imposing-looking city and the most heavily fortified in Skyrim. It is little wonder Ulfric Stormcloak feels secure in his rebellion, but I suspect a determined effort would bring the city underneath Imperial rule. It is one thing to have great walls, it is another to garrison them, and I have never seen more than a handful of guardsmen in any of the cities I have so far visited.

The stinking springs between Windhelm and Morthal were unavoidable, but I will certainly take a rotten scent if it comes with heat rather than the cold which infects most of Skyrim. I, however, was not the only creature with a preference for Skyrim's rare warmth.

I heard its roaring before I saw it, but not long before. Though it sounded far away it suddenly swept between the rocks, roaring its challenge and scattering the hardy goats that called the springs home. I expected the Dragon to make directly for me as his brethren usually do, but this one flew over me and towards a nearby giant's encampment, blasting the mammoths as it went by.

This, of course, angered the mammoths and their giant keeper, who immediately turned on the culprit: me. The mammoths lumbered towards me, the giant started to shamble over, and the Dragon continued to roar and assault everything with its icy breath.

It was a very strange situation. The Giant and his mammoths gave the Dragon no notice as they unrelentingly tried to surround me and squash me flat. I was trying not to be flattened while also keeping an eye on the Dragon lest it also focus on me, but it crashed down on top of the Giant, crushing it as it finally turned on me.

My ebony blade served me well, scoring deep slashes on the beast's face and discouraging it from attacking me further...which is not what I actually wanted. Seeking less capable prey, it leaped back into the air and flew towards another Giant's encampment.

I rushed over, but not quickly enough to prevent the death of another Giant, crushed as well. Evidently enraged, one of the Giant's mammoths bellowed and rushed the Dragon. To my astonishment the mammoth swung a tush at the Dragon's head and actually caught it underneath the jaw. The Dragon reared back, blood gushing from the wound, and I thought the mammoth would certainly be killed.

The tusk must have pierced it's skull or spine, for the Dragon collapsed in a heap before the mammoth, who, having accomplished something no other mammoth has likely ever done before or will again, became immediately disinterested and wandered off to pick at some brush. The corpse burst into flames and the Dragon's soul, or whatever it actually is, streamed into my face as it always does.

What will become of the two groups of mammoths bereft of their masters?

The Dragon had come from the wall of words on a plateau known as 'Bonestrewn Crest'. It sat amid the springs and played host to a headache-inducing wall of ancient words and a handful of skeletons last I visited it. The place was still strewn with bones, mostly mammoth, but there were no skeletons climbing out of the earth this time. New to the little area was a stout-looking chest the Dragon must have claimed for its own.

My luck has been on quite a streak recently. The chest contained only two items: a pair of rusty iron gauntlets...and a two-handed ebony greatsword, a very valuable and rare arm! Though useless martially to me, I strapped it to my back anyway. It will make a fine decoration at one of my homes next time I visit.

Leaving the Crest I came upon a wrecked wagon and, curiously, the bodies of three Khajiit. The caravans do not use wagons nor horses. Their goods were more domestic than adventurous, carpets, cookware, things of that nature. Were they hoping to reside in Skyrim or just make a little money?

My destination this morning was Fort Dawnguard, but I stopped at Riften to deliver Ingun Black-Briar's alchemy ingredients. For the delivery of her nirnroot, nightshade, and deathbell she paid fifteen-hundred Septims, far more than the plants were worth. As I turned to leave she remarked that she felt I was owed more than "meaningless" coin and gave me a key to her private supply chest at 'Elgrim's Elixers' where she has been taking lessons. Personally, I preferred the meaningless coin.

It was well into the night when I finally stood before the largely unguarded battlements of Fort Dawnguard. A small battle was raging at the gate when I arrived between the small band of vigilantes and a group of Vampires, but it was over before I could take part.

As I predicted Isran was not at all happy to hear that I reunited a powerful Vampire clan with their long-sleeping daughter, the latter of which claimed to be carrying a genuine Elder Scroll on her back. He started to get angry that I apparently did nothing to stop them, but I pointed out that one Khajiit against a hall full of vampires would not have ended well for the Khajiit.

The delivery of Serana to her family, coupled with the attack against the Dawnguard, opened Isran's eyes to how precarious his situation was. Now he decided he needed more help, well after that should have been obvious. Was he summoning a band of soldiers? No, he had just two names to give me.

The first was 'Sorine Jurard', a Breton with an interest in the Dwemer. He could only tell me she was somewhere in the Reach, likely exploring a ruin as we were speaking. I would have to delve into the ruins myself until I found her, an unpleasant task I am not looking forward to.

The second name was 'Gunmar', a Nord whose specialty lay with the taming of beasts, trolls in particular, if such a thing is to be believed. Isran had no hint as to his whereabouts and helpfully suggested I start looking in Skyrim.

At least I am saving myself a few Septims tonight, as I have been given a small bunk inside the fortress. Whatever I do tomorrow will undoubtedly mean heading west, as I cannot possibly go any further east without leaving the province entirely and I doubt anyone in Morrowind remembers that a Khajiit was declared Nerevarine so long ago.

Morrowind Day 64 - Hortator of House Redoran

17 Frost Fall

~~~

I woke at 6am at the Erabenimsun Camp, but decided staying for breakfast would not be a good idea, for obvious reasons. An Almsivi Intervention scroll dropped me off at Molag Mar, from which I walked to Telasero fortress to use the Propylon chamber to teleport me to Caldera.

From there I teleported to the Ald'ruhn Mages Guild and stopped at my house briefly to deposit a few valuables that I simply could not leave behind, such as a Daedric club I had won off of a Dremora. Useless to me as a weapon, but a potent symbol of my prowess, should it ever come into question.

While taking a rare moment to rest, I pondered who in House Redoran would be able to point me in the right direction towards being named Redoran Hortator. I had prevented the assassination of council-member Athyn Sarethi, so I figured he would be most willing to answer my questions.

He was very helpful, providing not only his thoughts on being named the Redoran Hortator, but also of Hlaalu and Telvanni, pointing me towards Crassius Curio in Vivec and Orvas Dren for House Hlaalu and Master Aryon of Tel Vos for House Telvanni.

For House Redoran, he promised to recommend that I be named Redoran Hortator if only I would rescue his imprisoned son from Redoran Archmaster Bolvyn Venim. Apparently Bolvyn has claimed that the Athyn's son, Varvur Sarethi, has delivered to him a dishonorable slight and claimed 'private justice', whatever that is. Athyn is not fooled however, for he knows that Bolvyn has kidnapped his son to curtail his influence over the council, of which Bolvyn's has been wavering as of late. If I can return his son to him Athyn will work on the other council members on my behalf, smoothing the path in front of me as it were. He cautioned me to avoid violence within Venim Manor or the other council members would never support me. There is always a catch.

I had expected that the manor would be under tight security, but petitioners are common to all of the councilmen and access to the manors and their persons are pretty open. The extensiveness of the manor was certainly unexpected though for I gave no thought to the idea that the Dunmer would dig under Under-Skar and Venim Manor was large enough to almost be a small town on its own.

Unfortunately for Bolvyn this lack of security seems to have made his guards a little less than diligent, for I found a note stating where Varvur was, with the key sitting right on top of it! I did not have enough time to snatch the key before the guard came back, so I pretended to be lost and headed back the way I came. As soon as I was out of sight I used my Invisibility spell and sneaked back to the key, timing my pace to arrive there when the guard's routine patrol placed her as far away as possible. I quickly swapped the key with one I had forgotten to throw away and hurried to the tapestry the note had said the door laid behind.

Finding the man proved hazardous enough, but I thought that getting him out would be even more so. This was not the case, for the 'private justice' that Bolvyn had claimed against Varvur meant that he could not afford to harm him in any way, lest he bring the wrath of the Council upon him. With that protecting us, we were able to simply walk out of the manor without any opposition from the guards. Fortunately, we left soon enough to avoid meeting Bolvyn, an awkwardness I was glad to dodge.

Athyn was true to his word. With his son returned, he not only agreed to sponsor me for Redoran Hortator, but also told me that he had some House tasks that I could help him with, if I wanted to advance further within the House. I passed on that for now, becoming Hortator is certainly time-consuming enough!

He did not believe that the other council members would disagree with him in choosing me, but that Bolvyn would never accept a Khajiit as Hortator. Athyn's suggestion was to secure the nomination from the entire council, then challenge Bolvyn to a formal duel. With the rest of the council in my favor, he would likely see the duel as a way to remove me. 

According to the Redoran Red Book of 3E 426, the council is composed of the Redoran Archmaster, Lord Bolvyn Venim, Master Lord Miner Arobar, Master Lord Hlaren Ramoran, Mistress Lady Brara Morvayn, Master Lord Athyn Sarethi, and Master Lord Garisa Llethri. Lots of 'Lords' and 'Masters' in that list, but with the exception of Bolvyn, each accepted me as Redoran Hortator, largely on Athyn's urgings. The Lady Brara was a bit different: she recognize the Moon-and-Star ring and stated she would have accepted me as Hortator on that alone.

While stumbling through the very large Redoran Council apartments, I walked into a room and was immediately accosted by a Dunmer woman who told me that I must be the Khajiit she had heard about and that she was cleared to build me a small dwelling, courtesy of House Redoran, if I brought her a construction permit from a Duke Dren in Ebonheart, plus five thousand Septims for construction costs. This is the first I have heard about me being able to build anything at all on Vvardenfell and I will keep it in mind if I ever find myself in Ebonheart with some free time.

With the rest of the council naming me Redoran Hortator, I visited the Redoran Archmaster in his manor. He never let me spoke, sneering that I had 'beguiled' and 'deceived' (somehow) the rest of the council, but that he would stop my "foolish ambition" within the Arena at Vivec, essentially challenging me to a duel instead. I accepted, of course.

I left the manor and stopped at my own home. The Archmaster had been clad in full ebony armor when I met him, but had no weapons on him. Unsure of what I was to face, I re-equipped myself with my Daedric weaponry, including four Daedric arrows, and teleported to the Vivec Mages Guild.

I have no expectations of anyone else ever reading this journal, so I can say without any arrogance that I was not apprehensive about my duel. I have fought battles against the demonic creatures of the Sixth House alone underneath mountains while flanked by choking lava. One Dunmer lord, well-armored and armed as he may be (he wielded a Daedric dai-katana, a real rarity!) simply failed to produce any worry.

We met at opposite ends of the large Arena, but he brought only his sword, leaving me free to fire four of the powerful Daedric arrows at him. Two missed, but my third shot impacted his breastplate with a ear-splitting *crack*, momentarily pausing his charge as he gazed down with (presumably) amazement at the jagged gash in his armor. The arrow had been powerful enough to crack open a seam on his breastplate and while I did try to fire my last arrow into the gap in his armor, I completely missed.

The rest of the combat was he and I continually circling each other, watching and waiting for the other to slip. I confess entirely to take several painful hits from the two-handed sword and I only managed to hit him once...but it was once enough. I drove the spear through the gap, the spear's edges screeching against his armor and yanked it out once I felt the spear tip strike the back of his breastplate. He collapsed to his knees, blood flowing out of his mouth as he looked up at me in disbelief. With a gurgle, the Archmaster of House Redoran fell flat on his face, dead.

I took his sword, but left him with his armor and the three Daedric arrows I recovered. 

I made my way back to Athyn, who formally named me Redoran Hortator and gave me a ring to prove my status. He also gave me a sealed package that he said came from a contact high within the Temple's organization. He also gave me a public notice declaring that I was an Imperial spy and an enemy of the Temple. He warned that the Ordinators would mark me for either arrest or death and to avoid Vivec for quite some time. 

The sealed package is from the Temple's High Archcanon. Should I succeed in being named both Nerevarine and Hortator of all three Houses, the package instructs me to speak with the High Fane in Vivec, Danso Indules, to facilitate a meeting between myself and essentially the Tribunal Temple to discuss how best to collaborate against the Sixth House.

By that time it was late in the evening and I took the rare opportunity to retire to my own home for the night. The Daedric Dai-katana rests alongside the bow and spear now and I've gratefully shouldered the far lighter bonemold bow and chitin spear I have grown used to.