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With the dawn of a new era before us, it is time that we take stock of where we have been and where we are, in order to better illuminate the way ahead. Written in celebration of the Battle of Hunding Bay, which marked the return of all human kingdoms to the unchallenged rule of the Cyrodilic Emperor, this pamphlet seeks to briefly describe the present provinces of the Empire and the surrounding regions-- their history, people and current condition. We strove to balance timeliness with accuracy and completeness; if we have erred in our zeal to place this valuable guide in the hands of interested citizens everywhere, we beg the kind reader's indulgence.
The Empire stretches across Tamriel, the largest known continent of the World. To the north of Tamriel is Atmora, from whence the Men of the World came. To the west is Yokuda, the lost native land of the Redguards. To the east is Akavir, whose armies invaded Tamriel in the previous era. To the south all is mystery and the whisper of a lost Elven homeland.
Tamriel itself is generally divided into eight major regions: Skyrim, Cyrodiil, High Rock, the Aldmeri Dominion of the Summerset Isles and Valenwood, Hammerfell, Morrowind, and the Elsweyr Confederacy. Some of these, such as Morrowind or Skyrim, have historically been unified into kingdoms; others, such as High Rock or Elsweyr, are looser groupings of many kingdoms, chiefdoms, village confederations, and so forth, united under a dominant race or culture. At its zenith, the Second Empire formally organized these disparate groups into the Imperial Provinces, which were administered by provincial governors, either dispatched directly from Cyrodiil or appointed from the native populations. (Morrowind is a notable exception, having never been conquered by the original Cyrodilic Empire and, thus escaping investment as an Imperial Province.). With the fall of the Cyrodilic Empire, control reverted to the individual rulers of each province, resulting in centuries of chaos, as many of the provinces devolved into independent kingdoms and petty statelets. Now, happily, all of the human kingdoms have been recovered by the Third Empire of Tiber Septim, and once again they all bear the proud title of Imperial Provinces.
The Aldmeri Dominion, the Elsweyr Confederacy, and Morrowind have yet to join the Empire, but are described in this book for the edification of the scholar, the fascination of the common citizen, and the preparation of the soldier. The Third Empire is yet in its youth, and who can predict what new horizons might yet greet the dawn under the Red Diamond Banner?
Some regions escape provincial classification due to the primitive civilization of their beastfolk inhabitants. Collectively, these beastfolk 'states' are known as the Wild Regions, which may or may not be of interest to the Emperor. They are included only for the most intrepid of travelers, and to throw the achievements of Civilization into more brilliant relief by contrast with these benighted corners of Tamriel.
Now, citizen, we entreat you to review our modest survey of the Empire's dominions. If it entertains and edifies, reflect not upon the humble labors of this scribe, but on the gracious benevolence of our beloved Emperor, whose very name is as ambrosia upon our tongues, who in his wisdom has ordained that this survey be created and distributed among the earnest and wise people of Tamriel, that they might better understand the glories and challenges of these Lands and Dominions, and that they might better appreciate the great burdens of rulership he bears in our names with such fortitude.
A note on Elven designations: The Elves as a whole are sometimes referred to as the 'Aldmeri,' or 'the Elder Races.' Their individual pedigrees are likewise referred to by both their human and Aldmeri names; thus, High Elves are the 'Altmer,' Dark Elves the 'Dunmer,' Wood Elves the 'Bosmer,' etc., etc. 'Mer' is also used to denote a single Elf. Words that designate an Elven member of a profession or trade can therefore correctly be said as 'craftsmer,' for example, or 'noblemer.'
A Scholar's Guide to NymphsBy Vondham Barres
I grew up a scholar, an ascetic devoted to knowledge, with eyes that saw beauty in a fascinating passage in a dusty tome, love in the candle that allowed me to study on starless nights, passion in a well-reasoned argument of a long dead issue. I was a student who never graduated and was never expelled.
Though I am not defending myself, I should further define myself. I am not what you would call a prude. In fact, I can speak of subjects in a detached way that would make the most debauched strumpet in Skyhawk blush with discovered modesty. I wrote an essay the House of Dibella as a scholar should, analysing the cult of beauty and physical relations as one might study crop rotation or the digestive system of an orc. The acquaintances of mine who were inclined to wink and giggle I tolerated, but barely.
With all that said, the reader will understand that when I decided to study the language of the nymphs in order to study their character and culture, it was not a decision I made on account of prurience or lust. Scholars have historically neglected the nymph as a subject worthy of research, and this neglect I attribute to prejudice. The sages with whom I have spoken on the subject have eloquently and intelligently formed sentences which, boiled down, can be translated as: "Nymphs look like beautiful, naked women who skip along tra-la-la and like to have indisciminate sex. What could they have to say that would be of any interest?"
So here I was faced with the most daunting of projects -- to study and research a species unstudied is a potentially rewarding challenge. If the subject was unstudied because the scientific community had deemed it beneath interest, a potentially rewarding but decidedly frustrating challenge. If I spent months in serious study of their language and culture and additional time in their company, and discovered nothing more than that the common prejudice is correct, the term "laughing stock" would not do me justice.
So, excited and nervous for reasons unrelated to the notoriously promiscuous behavior of my subjects, I began my studies. I mastered the language, a melodious tongue that sounds like wild elf and faerie but share no vocabulary with them. I studied the lore, and found it to be on the whole, little more than pornography and crude conjecture.
I next had to find a nymph.
From my centralized location in the Imperial City, I found it easy to send word around to several wellknown temples and guilds devoted to study in all the provinces. Not all replies back were serious in nature, but one, from the School of Julianos in Sentinel helped me considerably. To Magister Oitos and his disciples, I here offer my sincere gratitude.
Nymphs are extremely shy creatures, no matter what the more obscene stories will tell you. No one who I've spoken with has had one seek him or her out. Thus to speak with a nymph requires energy and patience.
Out of courtesy for her privacy, I will not here give the location of the little grotto off the coast of Hammerfell where I found the nymph. It took three months of patient waiting, leaving presents where I knew the nymph would be, before the nymph stood still at my approach.
I remember I was carrying a bouquet of purple and white tetias, and she looked at them and then at me, and smiled. The effect of her smile was truly magical, I'm convinced. Her body was, of course, perfect; her face lovely and serene; her hair like silk flame. But until she smiled, she was beautiful in the abstract, a perfect statue by a master. The smile made her approachable and, thus, terrifying.
"For you," I said, attempting my first utterance of Nymph to a real nymph.
Her smile grew into a grin which became a giggle and then a laugh. The reader has doubtless heard of the silver laughter of the elves. The nymph's laugh is earthy and spontaneous, and very ... suggestive.
"And what do you want from me in return, mortal?" she asked.
"I am," There is no, I should say, known word in the Nymph language for scholar, "I am a man who likes to learn things. I want to learn things about you."
And I did.
Nymphs are the wisest, most wonderful creatures in Tamriel. My nymph, her name is Ayalea (a poor phonetic transcription of a word that sounds more like a light wind blowing through a small crack in a hollow chamber) and she knows more about the behavior and varieties of the deep woodland creatures than the greatest wood elf scholar I ever met. She taught me of flowers and ghosts and creatures too fast and timid to have ever been seen by man.
Ayalea taught me how to learn for the very first time. How to open my mind to all of the possibilities of life and how to use that knowledge, not just to hold in my cramped brain like a dragon's horde.
If you ever meet a nymph, speak to her.
* * *
Editor's note: the writer Vondham Barres is no longer a scholar at the Imperial University. He deposited this manuscript and disappeared from the civilized world. His current wherebouts are unknown.
Fools' EbonyBy Frincheps by kakly tatarony
Prologue
The Adventurer, A Dark Elf Rascal
Komon, A Priest of Akatosh
Lheban, Another Priest of Akatosh
Epilogue
Stete, A Priest of Julianos
Raic, Another Priest of Julianos
Shub, A Mage
Shub, A Different Mage of the Same Name
Nephron, A Somewhat Sleazy Merchant
5 Armorers
Ortho
Crunn, Husband of Millie
A Lusty Contessa
Millie, Innkeep and Philosopher
Gurnsey, Bovine Wench
Assorted Wenches and Cads of the Taverns
Soldiers
Dwarves
Giants
Part The Oneth -
Concerning Priests and Nackles As related at length by two Priests of Akatosh to the Adventurer, who at the time was not having an adventure, and had nothing better to do. In which some (probably unwanted) light is shed upon the Priesthood and its members, and upon an old peasant myth of some significance, especially common in High Rock. And in which the mysterious Fools' Ebony appears, that strange material that could bring either drastic cultural change for the many, or just great profit for a few, or death for a bunch, or have no result whatsoever.
Daggerfall and Environs in the Doldrums of the 3rd Era
Early in the month of Frostfall. The Dead Daedra Inn. Enter Prologue
PROLOGUE: Our poor players will try and remember their lines and not trip over our meager set. I beg you, the audience, not to heckle, badger, or throw rotten foodstuffs. You will only make this short play last longer. The Guild of Playwrites, Actors, and Dramatists wish any of you who are sensitive or allergic to rambling dialogue, wooden acting, incomprehensible exposition, or unsatisfying endings that leave one confused and unhappy to exit the theatre immediately. Your gold will, alas, not be refunded. As a saving grace, this series of vignettes contains gratuitous references to all pleasures of the flesh. You may enjoy it. Ah, here comes our hero, the roguish Dark Elf called the Adventurer. It is time for Prologue to trip merrily away.
Exit Prologue
Enter the ADVENTURER
ADVENTURER: What an odd conversation I just heard between those two mages. It is best not to speak of such matters next to privy hedges.
Enter 2 Priests of Akatosh (LHEBAN, KOMON)
LHEBAN: Mind if we join you, fellow? ... Good, need some company ourselves. I am named Lheban, my fellow priest here is Komon. We both serve Akatosh, all in our own ways, of course ...
ADVENTURER: Make yourselves at home, it's not my bench. But I thought that priests ... didn't go to ... er ... places like this, Inns. I mean ... unless on duty?
LHEBAN: Oh, we're not on duty. Got to regenerate our internal vital energies, so we can go on blessing and curing ...
KOMON: We often come here, hike up our robes, kick up our heels, as it were. Fill up with some bottled energy ...
(Komon snickers)
LHEBAN: Looking for those in need of comfort and blessing, of course ...
KOMON: Oh, yes, Oh yes ... like that young girl outside the other evening ...
(Lheban kicks Komon)
KOMON: ... and anyway our High Priest told us to get lost...
LHEBAN: He means told us to get some air. We've been having visions, you see...
KOMON: Yes, sort of weird, really ... and we hadn't even been taking any of that ...
(Lheban kicks Komon)
LHEBAN: Both of us been having the same visions - real odd.
ADVENTURER: Do tell, I'm not going anywhere in a hurry.
LHEBAN: Well, we've both been hearing sort of ... words ... for a start. Like 'Sir Nich' or 'Sain Nack' ...
ADVENTURER: You said 'Nick' or 'Nack'? Just a minute ... let me have a swig from your bottle, Brother ... Ah! That's better - high-class stuff you fellows drink! Yes, I recall - some story or old legend about an elf, name of Nuckle, I think -- from Morrowind?
LHEBAN: You know, maybe you're on to something there -- there is a old legend around these parts, comes from deep in High Rock I think ... hmmmm ... Nackles, that's it!
ADVENTURER: Nackles, eh! Seems that several Dark Elves use that name ... particularly the ... more peculiar ones...
KOMON: Yes, I guess that the bad ones are into all that weapons magicka stuff ... very nasty fellows ...
LHEBAN: (to Komon) Komon! This fellow's got pointy ears and red eyes ...
KOMON: Pardon me, friend ... it's sort of dark, and I didn't ... uh ...
ADVENTURER: Oh, that's fine. These are strange times. You know, live and let live -- or die -- as the case may be. Now ... suppose you tell me about this Nackles myth? Here, let me help you with that bottle ... Ah! Thanks.
LHEBAN: Er ... sure, if you want to put it that way ... Here, have another swig! Sure, we've got the time, and I recall it clearly now.
KOMON: Yes, we've a couple hours 'til that little blonde shows up at her lamp...
(Lheban kicks Komon)
LHEBAN: (to Komon) Quiet! Remember, we had to tell the High Priest her address, so she won't be around for a while!
(to all) Very well, here's the story, best as I can recall it. This is a tale the peasants up in High Rock tell their kids to scare them into being good for a while, I guess. They tell it, let me see ... either on Tales and Tallows, or is it Witches' Festival? -- just before the kids are sent out to the barn or pigsty to sleep.
KOMON: Nasty cruel peasants! But then, I'd send them all out to the midden ...
LHEBAN: Really, Komon! Remember, those poor souls need our compassion and blessing, we are their salvation!
KOMON: Now who's in Old High Mucky-Mucks' study?
LHEBAN: Er ... anyway. It goes a bit like this. If the kids have been real good during the year -- filched enough in the market, mucked out the stables every day, not gone playing with goblins, left the sheep alone, and so on. If they have been real good, they've nothing to worry about. But if they haven't been real good then there is this nasty, horrid Dark Elf spirit called Nackles. Doesn't look like your typical Dark Elf -- thinner, taller. Pasty white face, long as your arm. Walks like his knees and elbows bend the wrong way. Snickers like when you drag your fingernails across slate. Wears a tight black suit (not Khajiit, more like a formal suit with buttons) but too tight and small. He visits the bad girls and --
KOMON: Why are you talking about Old High Mucky again, Lheban?
(Komon hiccoughs) (Lheban kicks Komon)
LHEBAN: You really must excuse Komon here: overwork, you know. Too many curings and conversions ... Anyway, Old Nasty Nackles is supposed to wander under our Tamriel, in dirty deep dark dwarven tunnels. Everywhere under the lands, if you can believe that! Rides in a rusty squeaky old mine cart, on old mine tracks ...
ADVENTURER: I saw some of those in Fang Lair once, down in Hammerfell a long long while ago ...
KOMON: (to Lheban) What the Sheogorath was he doing in Fang Lair!?
LHEBAN: (to Komon) Hush! If he's who I think he is, you do not want to know! (to all) Um, yes. Well, Nackles gets pulled all around these deep tunnels by goblins -- not your usual dirty yellow ones, but nasty black things. Anyway, they pull Nackles round and through these dark tunnels, and then, late at night, he stops below each and every bad child's hovel or house or castle - makes no difference. Then he slides up the drainage pipes ...
KOMON: Creeps up cracks ... crawls through holes ...
LHEBAN: Oozes up oubliettes ...
KOMON: Climbs giggling up garderobes ...
LHEBAN: Right into the kid's place! Then, if the kid's only been sort of bad, Nackles will just mess things up in general, so the kid gets blamed. Make greasy dirty marks everywhere (more than usual, anyway), break some things, steal some things, so on and so forth. Maybe take the sugar sweets, leave some lumps of fools' ebony instead ...
ADVENTURER: Fools' Ebony - what's that? Heard mention of that, oh, a few hours ago ... Some Mages ...
LHEBAN: You did now? Interesting ... Very ... Well, lets talk of that in a bit ... just let me finish this Nackles thing. Where was I -- Oh yes ... Now, if the little brat has been real bad -- then all the little brat's toys get taken. The copper dagger, the wooden sword, the little whip, and so on. All the usual favorite kids things.
KOMON: Whips? I like those.
(Komon hiccoughs) (Lheban kicks Komon)
LHEBAN: Now if that little brat has been very, very bad then Nackles grabs the brat. Pops him or her in his dirty great sack. Hauls the sack off down the holes and cracks, down to his rusty old mine cart! And away they go!
KOMON: Hope he leaves some bad little girls behind.
(Lheban kicks Komon)
LHEBAN: Er ... so we can save them, of course, friend ... Well. Sometimes, so I've heard tell, the brat never comes back. No great loss, I guess, peasants just breed another.
KOMON: Know 'bout that, I do, I do ...
(Lheban pinches Komon's nose)
LHEBAN: But, as the story goes round here anyway, often the brat is just put to work, digging out lumps of Fools' Ebony, shoveling dirt, bagging it. Extending the tunnels of the Nackles. After a while, Brat is pushed back up to where it came from. Seems that Brat might think it's spent a year down there, but only a day has passed up top ... Brat comes back real thin and dirty though, covered in black mess ... You know, come to think of it -- on the day past Witches' Festival, I've often seen some little brats, scrawny, real dirty black mess on them, looking terrified, too. Parents drag them into Temples to get blessed and cured, if they have the gold. By the Beard of Sheogorath, the wailing and noise! Enough to drive a priest to ... er ... well, never mind ... that's our problem ...
KOMON: Nah ... it's a problem with our suppliers, I tell you ...
(Lheben throws Komon through a screen)
LHEBAN: Anyway, that's the short of it, this Nackles legend up around here. I recall now, it's widespread all over Tamriel ... and knowing the place, probably more than a grain of truth in the tale, much, much more ...
ADVENTURER: So, I guess some of the ... er, darker Dark Elves sort of identify with this Nackles. Take on the persona, so to say ...
LHEBAN: Yeah, that sort of sums it up, I guess ... though we don't see those types hauling off brats in sacks, now do we?
KOMON: Nah, that's wot we does, girly brats anyway, isn't it not?
(Komon hiccoughs) (Lheban breaks a bottle over Komon's head)
(Komon falls unconscious)
ADVENTURER: Thats a very interesting tale, gentlemen. Say, let me repay you with another bottle -- what's that you're drinking? Ah, thought so - Innkeep! More holy wine for these holy men!
LHEBAN: A blessing on you for that kind gesture, friend.
ADVENTURER: I thank you, I sure could use one or three ... Anyway, this 'Fools' Ebony', I've heard mutters and murmurs about that of late -- mostly eavesdropping ... pardon me ... listening ... to Mages and the like. What's with this stuff? Here, have another swig ... good!
LHEBAN: Well, we're not supposed to tell outsiders ... but then, you seem to know something already. And if you have been hearing Mage gossip ... Why, maybe we can do some business. Profit all round! Well ... for the Akatosh Chantry, of course, and your fee, good Sir.
ADVENTURER: More and more interesting -- tell on, I pray you.
(Komon staggers to feet) (Komon hiccoughs)
KOMON: Time for me to go convert that little lamppost girl ... no, no, no - not last nights one, but the blonde ...
(Exit Komon) (Female squeals from offstage)
LHEBAN: Friend, you'll have to excuse Komon. He's a bit ... you know strange ... Got these ...
ADVENTURER: Oh, that's all right, we've all got our own...
(Exeunt Lheben and the Adventurer) (Enter EPILOGUE)
EPILOGUE: Our apologies for the quality of this drama so far. If those of you still present will wait for a few minutes while our bard plays "Silence Implies Consent," we will change the set for the next act, Part the Twoth. Please don't forget to tip your wench. Do you believe there's such a thing as Fools' Ebony? Maybe we'll find out in Part the Twoth. Or maybe not.
(Flourish) (Exit Epilogue)
End of Part the Oneth, Being Mostly Concerned with The Legend of Nackles.
Part The Twoth -
Bearing Mostly on Fools' Ebony and Temples
Same place, same Inn, A bottle or two later. Enter Prologue, the Adventurer, and Lheben
PROLOGUE: Little has occured so far in our comedic drama. The Adventurer, our Dark Elf rascal, has bought drinks for two priests of Akatosh. All have drunk considerably. One of the priests has rushed off in pursuit of his lamp girl. And, unless I've forgotten something or something happened when I was paying attention to something else, that's a complete synopsis of Part the Oneth. Ah, here come two more priests. Humble Prologue must depart.
(Enter RAIC and STETE)
RAIC: Evening Lheban! Evening stranger. My fellow priest here is Stete, I am Raic. We are honored to serve Julianos.
ADVENTURER: What is this, anyway - Priests night out? And ... I thought that your Temples - Akatosh, Julianos, the rest ... I thought them all cut-throat competitors. In theology and gold, if you will forgive my bluntness. Yet you all seem the best of friends ..? Come to think of it, didn't I have words with Stete earlier, you said you were of the Temple of Stendarr?
RAIC: A common misconception, friend ...
LHEBAN: ... but one that we ... encourage ...
RAIC: Really, we all work together closely, move between the Temples as needs dictate ...
LHEBAN: ... exchange information ...
RAIC: ... share funds ...
STETE: ... swap our sisters ...
(Lheben kicks Stete) (Enter Prologue)
PROLOGUE: Sorry to interrupt the merry slapstick, but I neglected to mention earlier that the Fools' Gold saga -- if that is the word -- contains gratuitous reference to priestly misdeeds and sexual excess. I hope those of you in the audience of peevish, prudish, sullen, frumpy, or grumpy demeanors are not offended. Now then, on with the entertainment.
(Exit Prologue)
LHEBAN: ... and all that ...
RAIC: But it helps in our ... holy work, if we are perceived as separate and, uh, competitive...
LHEBAN: Mind you, there are one or two, er ... religious organizations ... well, sort of ... that we do not have anything to do with ...
RAIC: Nothing at all, nothing at all ... animals, just animals ...
ADVENTURER: Such as ..?
LHEBAN: Weeell -- the Dark Brotherhood for one ... nasty bunch of thugs ... and then there's the Afterdark Society ...
(aside to Raic)
This fellow, seems a decent sort of chap ... seems to know something about Mages and Fools' Ebony ...
RAIC: (aside to Lheban) Really now ... how interesting...
(to all) Hey fellow, have another bottle -- this will bless you throat. My, my, yes indeed it will...
ADVENTURER: Thanks Raic, don't mind a bit ...
LHEBAN: But let me continue -- I was explaining about this Fools' Ebony to you ...
RAIC: Yes, Fools' Ebony ...
LHEBAN: Well. Fools' Ebony now. Well, you know about ordinary Ebony, how it's rare, only some dwarven clans dig it and sell it. And not too many, these days and times ...
STETE: How's that popular song go ..? (singing)
Where have all the Old Dwarves gone, Long time ago ...
(Lheben throws Innkeep at Stete) (Raic breaks chair on Innkeep and Stete) (Innkeep loses consciousness)
LHEBAN: There's a pile of real ebony up in the Wrothgarians somewhere north, I hear tell. You know how that dullish black ebony gets worked over by Mages, by some skilled armorers, made into all kinds of potent weapons, amulets, belts, what have you. All fetch a huge price, when you can find any. And how the best was made long ago, by those old dwarves ...
(Stete rises to his feet) (Lheban kicks Stete back down) (The Adventurer loosens his tunic)
LHEBAN: Oh my! Oh, my apologies, friend, Sir! I see you have -- what's that? An ebony torc? Oh my, and an ebony katana! Oh My! Oh My, My! So, of course, you know all that, sir.
ADVENTURER: Oh, that's all right, you didn't know. Here, have another bottle ...
LHEBAN: Many thanks, kind Sir. Well, then you know how every adventurer, even snotty kids, all the dungeon-delvers, are always looking for ebony artifacts, weapons, whatnot. But what you may not know, some of the more experienced delvers hunt for raw ebony lodes, piles, dwarven leavings. That stuff, the raw ebony, is far more valuable.
ADVENTURER: The raw unshaped material that provides work ... and power ... for so few? Apparently just loaded with negative magicka?
RAIC: Right, right!
LHEBAN: Yes, right so! Quite so! Well, Fools' Ebony now. Looks just about like the real raw stuff. Runs in veins in the deep rocks. Feels the same, smells almost the same. But the big difference: it's not real ebony. No power at all. If you pick some up, it gets you hands a bit dirty. Softer too, by all accounts. But sort of shiny too. But who can tell all that, deep in some old mine, maybe a ghoul breathing down your neck! So it's just grab and run, I guess, down in those nasty holes. So the fools, the kids, the crazy delvers, are always hauling up a bag, a sack, of Fools' Ebony. And getting laughed at by the merchants, dealers, mages, us ... hence the Fools' part. Stuff just gets thrown into the Bay ...
ADVENTURER: Yeah, that's sort of what I ... er ... heard from some Mages. But I heard something else, too ...
LHEBAN: And just what was that, friend ... if you want to tell us, of course ... Sir.
ADVENTURER: Oh, of course! I think that we can come to ... er ... an arrangement?
LHEBAN and RAIC (Together): Certainly, Oh Yes!
ADVENTURER: So, yeah, so these mages -- Shub and Shub, they are always called Shub, aren't they? -- anyway, these old guys were saying how this Fools' Ebony can burn. Not magically, but like an ordinary piece of wood. But the flame lasts far longer, gives off lots more heat, makes no smoke to speak of, no noise ... very interesting ... Mages were saying as how the alchemists want it, to heat the retorts and flasks ... How the Mages Guild wants it, to make and sell ... er ... fake amulets and the like ... rotten trick that! And especially the Armorers, they want it bad, for their forges, I guess. And the Alchemists, for their alembics ...
LHEBAN: Precisely my information! Now... gets cold up here in the winter, doesn't it? And everyone is cutting down all those trees, making siege engines, boats, all that evil war machinery! All those rich royals and merchants got to heat their great big piles of homes. So their Contessas can run around in next to nothing, instead of furs...
STETE: ... just like my sister ...
(Lheben bites Stete's arm) (Stete shreiks and falls unconscious)
ADVENTURER: All those armorers got to keep their hearths and furnaces running...
LHEBAN: ... All the Mages got to keep their familiars warm ...
RAIC: ... All those royals got to keep the contessas running ...
LHEBAN: ... All those peasants got to keep their animals warm ...
ADVENTURER: And To Sheogorath with the wife and kids, right? Ha! And, I guess, its sort of hard for you Priests to give blessings and cures, when your fingers are all cold and stiff ..? Makes getting corks out a tad hard, to say nothing of opening those little twists of parchment ..?
RAIC: You speak truly, indeed!
LHEBAN: A man of wisdom, indeed! Yes!
ADVENTURER: So, where do we find this Fools' Ebony -- in quantity?
LHEBAN: You put your finger (you have six, I note -- oh, excuse me, Sir) on the crux of the matter. I have heard rumors, just rumors, mind you, that there are huge enormous veins of this stuff, at one place on the surface, far up in the Wrothgarians. Bad, bad place to go. But, if you can get there and back, cartloads of the stuff!
ADVENTURER: Thats just what I overheard from those Mages -- far up there in the Wrothgarians -- orcs, dragonlings, daedra, Sheogorath only knows what ... Those Mages seemed to know the spot, though. Mages wanted someone to ...
RAIC: You didn't ... talk ... to the Mages. I mean, you haven't ...
ADVENTURER: Oh no. They didn't even know I was there...
(aside) Not yet, anyway...
LHEBAN: Good, good - can't trust those Mages, you know ... old fossils would turn their own mothers into sludge-toads, just for a bit of gold! Gold-mad, power-mad, Mad-mad, the whole rotten lot of them! But then they don't have mothers!
RAIC: Excellent. Seems to me, friend -- or, can we call you partner? Yes? Excellent. Seems tome, partner, that my brother priests and you should do some digging and poking around - see if we can get to those veins, those deposits, eh!
ADVENTURER: Yes indeed, partners! But it would cost a fair pile of gold to get up there -- weapons, spells, women, clothing, carts and horses, women, food, potions ... Best go well-prepared, up there.
LHEBAN: No problem, partner. Our Temples have ... certain resources, such that if we were guaranteed ... sole access, sole knowledge of the location, then we could finance someone ... someone with the requisite skills, such as yourself? Just by happenstance, I am Keeper of the Books ... you see the opportunity?
ADVENTURER: Oh yes! Oh yes! Well -- lets split a last bottle, and shake on an agreement?
LHEBAN: Indeed, let us! We first need information -- who knows about the site up there, where it is, how to reach it ... Why don't we meet back here in, say, a week, to the hour. And see what we can learn, meanwhile?
RAIC: We need to find a merchant, too. Someone who can handle it for us ... warehouses, distribution ...
LHEBAN: And keep a shut mouth!
ADVENTURER: I'll make some inquiries about merchants ... got a contact or two ... Trouble is -- well, you know how these things go -- few golds here, few there, before you know it you've bribed half the town, or so it seems. Now, as luck would have it, I don't have much -- got swindled by a wretched Mage, some town south of here, and lost most of my belongings in a shipwreck ...
LHEBAN: Ah Yes! You need some ... seed money as it were.
RAIC: (To Lheban) Let me lift old Stete's purse, he made a lot renting out his sister last week ...
ADVENTURER: Oh yes, more than enough for a start, Gentlemen. Good, good, good ... so we have a deal?
ADVENTURER: Yes! It's agreed. One week!
(Exit Lheban, Raic dragging Stete) (Exit the Adventurer)
(Enter Epilogue)
EPILOGUE: Ah, things are happening now, I doubt it not. Patrons, I request that you recall that this is a work of fiction created by one of the finest writers of the asylum, Frincheps, Archprince of All Sumurset. There is no such thing as Fools' Ebony. Furthermore, Ebony is not mined as the priests have described the process. Grasp that please. If you can still enjoy the play as a rude work of fiction, stay with us for Part the Threeth. If you can't, farewell. And don't forget to tip the wenches.
Part The Threeth -
In The Mages' Guild, One to Three Days Later
(Enter Prologue)
PROLOGUE: We are now at the halfway point of our disjointed epic. If you are just arriving, you have missed little. The Adventurer, our rogue Dark Elf, has joined with a quadripartite (that's a triumvirate plus one) of priests intent on discovering a burning metal called Fools' Ebony and becoming wealthy. The priests have given our hero some gold for bribing merchants, but the only people who know where the Fools' Ebony is are the mages of the Mages' Guild. As the Epilogue pointed out at the end of Part the Twoth, there is no such thing as Fools' Ebony and real Ebony is not mined. Something our playwrite apparently did not research. Well, accept it as high fantasy, if you will. Or whatever. Hark, here comes our hero now. Imagine the miasma (if that's the word I want) of magical elixirs, bubbling cauldrons, hovering balls of sparkling whatnot. And now, the Prologue must depart.
(Enter the Adventurer and SHUB)
ADVENTURER: Ho! Anyone around?
SHUB: Over here, young man, in the corner ...
ADVENTURER: Morning. Do I call you ... Shub ..?
SHUB: Oh yes, Shub is my name, Shub it is ... How on Tamriel did you know?
ADVENTURER: Can we have some ... privacy ... I have a somewhat ... er ... delicate matter to discuss..?
SHUB: No need for privacy here! We Mages do not hide anything!
ADVENTURER: Fools' Ebony?
SHUB: Quick through this door ..! Turn right ... Turn left ... Ah ... just let me throw a privacy spell around us ...
(Loud zap sounds) (Enter SHUB)
Good! Now Sir -- Oh, by the way, meet my fellow Mage, Shub.
SHUB: Mmmm.
SHUB: Now, you mentioned Fools' Ebony ..?
ADVENTURER: Well, I fancy myself a bit of an expert in ebony. Had quite a bit come and go through my hands in my time, I have ...
SHUB: We notice that you have an ebony amulet, and an ebony katana -- Of Lightning, no less! And an ebony belt ... ...mmmm...
ADVENTURER: Hands off the toys, gentlemen, please!
SHUB: Forgive us -- but we so appreciate such fine items ...
SHUB: ... collect them too ...
ADVENTURER: Well, the other day, just by chance of course, I just happened to hear two priests of the Temple of ... er ... Stendarr, I think it was ... They were a bit high in their cups, I think, a bit loud, and never noticed me skulking -- I mean, standing -- there. They were going on about this Fools' Ebony - stuff like the real thing, only no magicka at all. None. But it burns like wood, only longer, hotter, no smoke, nice even heat.
SHUB: Yes ... we have heard similar rumors. Seen a bit of that stuff -- lumps from a sack or two that some crazed delver dragged up, that kind of thing. Right, Shub?
SHUB: Oh - Oh yes, right, that kind of thing ... right ...
(aside) I must remember to keep the secret, whatever it is.
ADVENTURER: Well, these fool priests seemed to talk as if they knew a location for lots, I mean piles, of that stuff -- somewhere up in the Wrothgarians ...
SHUB and SHUB (Together): Where! Who! Did they say? How? When? Where?
SHUB: You didn't let them know you were listening, did you?
ADVENTURER: Of course not! What do you take me for, a priest lover?
SHUB: Calm yourself, my lord ... that's better...just don't go fiddling with that katana so much. Makes us nervous.
SHUB: Yes, nervous, very ...
SHUB: Here, sit down. There. Want some mulled wine? No? Oh well, just have to finish it myself.
SHUB: So they seemed to know the location.
(aside) Hmmmm. This means we have to act fast, quickly, speedily, and with great rapidity.
ADVENTURER: Oh yes! They were talking like they were going to get a load in a few weeks or so ...
SHUB: Oh My! Oh Dear Me! Ohhh...
SHUB: Now then. Seems you know a fair amount about this Fools' Ebony. And you realize the potential -- just think, big warm fires in all our study rooms ...
SHUB and SHUB (Together): ... Selling it to the Palace... selling it to those stupid Alchemists ... the Armorer's Guild would be good for a lot ... ...keep out familiars nice and warm ... ... and our posteriors ..! ... just think how Daedra Seducers love a nice warm fire ... Giving smoldering lumps to the peasants to warm their hovels with - in return for some gold, of course ...
SHUB: ...just think of all that gold...
SHUB: Trouble is, son - we would like to get that stuff by the cartload, bring it down here ...
SHUB: Have some trustworthy merchant ...
SHUB: Put a spell on him!
SHUB: ... Have some merchant act as sort of, middleman, for us ...
ADVENTURER: But ... then why the delay, gentlemen?
SHUB: You seem like an honest fellow. We'll tell you -- mind you, you let out a word of this, and there will be a Fire Daedra in your bed ... but no threats between gentlemen, right!
ADVENTURER: Very well -- I shall be the very soul of discretion.
SHUB: You see, we know where the stuff it, cartloads and cartloads of it. But we can't get there and back ...
SHUB: We are not the outdoorsy types.
SHUB: Far safer here in town.
SHUB: Much warmer too.
SHUB: Think of all the supplies we would have to take.
SHUB: All those nasty things out there.
SHUB: Did you know that seducers won't come to us in the wilderness?
SHUB: We'd have to hire guards, to keep those awful priests away.
SHUB: And the strain of dealing with all those coarse types ... the Merchants.
SHUB: The Armorers.
SHUB: The Royals.
ADVENTURER: Mmm. I think I comprehend. You want some -- experienced explorer-hero type, someone used to the wilderness - to go get it for you, set up a supply line, so on ..?
SHUB: Exactly. And find us a nice, useable merchant. Someone we can control.
SHUB: With a big, big warehouse, delivery service, that kind of thing ...
ADVENTURER: Well, gentlemen. Let me volunteer my services! I have always admired you Mage gentlemen -- so clever, so sharp. No fooling you in anything, is there?
SHUB: No, no fooling us ...
(Enter Prologue)
PROLOGUE: This, ladies and gentlemen, is irony.
(Exit Prologue)
ADVENTURER: Tell you what, I can probably arrange a suitable merchant or you. Take some gold though -- those thieves know the value of a gold piece! As luck would have it, my last gold was swindled off me by a thieving priest, in some little town south of here. And I lost a lot of good stuff in a shipwreck just before that ...
SHUB: Well ... since you have agreed to help us ... we can spare some gold from the treasury, can't we, Shub?
SHUB: Oh! Oh yes, lots there ... always make more ...
ADVENTURER: Now, I do need to know roughly where this site is, got to pick the right breed of horse, calculate my supplies to the last drop, figure out what weapons I might need ... supplies, like food, little things like that ... diameter of the cart wheels in square yurts ... ambush points for the priests, in case they try to get up there ... mmmmm ...
SHUB: Tell you what - here is 500 gold. Go get things started.
SHUB: Yes ... we can always make some more.
SHUB: (aside, to Shub) Shut up!
(Shub fires a spell at Shub that burns him to a cinder and then reconstitutes him)
(to all) Excuse us ... where was I ... Oh ... get a merchant, guards, carts, whatever you think it will take. Come back if you need more.
SHUB: But what about those priests?
ADVENTURER: I've an idea or two there. Let me get friendly with them - maybe hire a couple of good lamppost girls, lay in a few cases of holy wine ... I'll have them eating out of my hand in no time. And if you show me where this Fools' Ebony is ... why, I can misdirect them, send them straight into an trolls' den or something.
SHUB: You're the expert! Here, let me show you on a map ... and I don't need to mention Fire Daedras, do I?
ADVENTURER: So ... seems to be ... hmmmm ... only thirty days there, this time of year. Maybe forty back, with the loads. Let me study this a bit more ...
SHUB: Can't take it with you, of course ... don't want this getting out now ...
ADVENTURER: Oh no. That's fine. Look, let me have a bit more gold. Going to need some heavy-duty carts. See here, this section ... cut by all these washes ... hmmmm ... the flummox there will be something terrible ... Oh, and these ruins, full of ghosts, I bet ... hmmmm ... and this pass, just full of willies too ...
SHUB: If you say so ... My, seems that we picked the right man, right, Shub!
SHUB: Oh yes, indeed.
ADVENTURER: So -- why don't I make arrangements, get back to you in ... er ... say a week? Say -- sure that you don't want to come with me. After all, there's nothing like the wilderness life. Waking up with the sun, shaking off the frost. Catching an orc for breakfast - ever have orc guts fried over stinkwood? Oh, that's a treat! Checking each stream for dead giant spiders - or live ones! Imp jerky for lunch! Scanning the ridges for dragonlings! Standing guard against Ice Daedra in a blinding snowstorm! Oh, what a life!
SHUB and SHUB (Together): No, no ... we, we better stay here at the Guild. Got our duties after all ... someones got to mind the store ... someones got to get the word out to selected customers ... No, thank you kind Sir, it does sound such a lovely life, but I think we best be here ... yes, indeed ...
ADVENTURER: A pity, gentlemen. Well, I'll be about it then. And don't worry if you see me with those priests -- got to mislead and misdirect them, haven't I!
SHUB: One week, then!
(Exeunt Shub, the Adventurer, and Shub) (Enter Epilogue)
EPILOGUE: Shub and Shub, ladies and gentlemen. Implausibly retarded mages, yes, but perhaps there's something more to them than this act suggests. Do you think so, maybe? Well, if you are not in the theater for Part the Fourth, you won't know for certain, will you? Don't forget to tip your wenches and think on that while we change the set.
Part The Fourth -
Mercantile Dealings, The Armorers Involve Themselves. After some general discussion and verbal dancing around, finally the topic of Fools' Ebony is explored ...
Somewhere near the market, in the back of a store called "Nephron's General Mercantile".
The day after.
(Enter Prologue, the Adventurer, and NEPHRON)
PROLOGUE: Whilst the actors playing the Adventurer and the merchant Nephron dramatically move their mouths to pantomime a conversation, it is on poor Prologue's shoulders to update the audience on the play's actions in its first three acts. The Adventurer, a rogue of a Dark Elf, has been hired two different groups -- four inebriated priests and two greedy mages -- to delay the other group, and find the lost cache of Fools' Ebony in the Wrothgarian Mountains. Now, picture this clownishly decorated set as the back room at a prosperous merchant's shop. And before the Adventurer and Nephron develop lockjaw, Prologue will leave you thus.
ADVENTURER: So you see, friend Nephron, just what an opportunity we have here. We have this new commodity, for which you agree there will be a huge demand.
NEPHRON: Especially from the Royals -- once one of them has something new, they all want it, of course.
ADVENTURER: And do not forget the Armorers for their forges, and the Alchemists for their retorts and whatnots...
NEPHRON: You seem to have the Mages lined up nicely, got their location, memorized the access map, and so on - you know, we merchants have had a suspicion for quite some time that those old twits had some deep dark secret of interest to us... Now, the priests - the School of Julianos we already work well with, hand and glove, you might say. But of course we shall cut them out of the major profits -- maybe let them distribute some to their flocks? And their Temples make good, how can I say? -- storehouses? But the Akatosh Chantry is a problem, always running off and doing things on their own initiative, no cooperation, just crazy people ... we really need to do something about them, to ... er ... ensure their cooperation ...
ADVENTURER: I have a suggestion that might help ... you recall how old Komon left and apparently dragged off some little blonde lamppost girl ... just suppose, that just by chance, in his state of ... befuddlement ... he dragged off someone important by mistake..? Might be a lot of trouble for the Chantry, if word got out?
NEPHRON: Hmmm. Indeed ... there's this silly little blonde Royal who's all excited by the 'real life' down in these parts of town. Disguises herself (or so she thinks), comes on down here and plays at being poor. Stupid little twit ... Komon is still in hiding with his blonde, right?
ADVENTURER: Yes, in that 'retreat' the Priests have, down near the waterfront.
NEPHRON: Oh yes, I know that place - often sell them some 'spiritual powders' and so on ... Good ... you see, just imagine what would happen if Komon, by mistake, had grabbed this slumming little Contessa ... Akatosh Chantry would have no end of trouble from the palace if something nasty happened to her ... and then we could move in, offer to 'help' the Chantry during their hard times ... Hmmm. Yes! Leave it to me, I shall contact a few of my ... er ... business associates, as it were ... make some arrangements.
ADVENTURER: And I'll keep up chatting with the priests, get them to support our little business venture?
NEPHRON: Right! And I should introduce you to some of the more senior members of our Brotherhood ... excuse me, Guild. Let me contact you in a few days, when everything is all set. You are here every evening?
ADVENTURER: Yes, not particularly safe outside after dark these days.
NEPHRON: I see. We shall have to arrange some ... protection for you. Well, in a few days, then.
(Exit Nephron, inconspicuously) (Enter FIVE ARMORERS)
(Armorers and the Adventurer fight) (The Adventurer falls)
(The Armorers tie the Adventurer up and then wake him up)
ARMORER 1: OK, fellow. Lets not spriggen-foot around! We know about this Fools' Ebony thing. And about the Mages who apparently discovered the location. And we have been watching you dance around with the Priests, the Mages, the Merchants. Just about everyone with two feet!
ARMORER 2: And how you are really working with Nephron.
ARMORER 3: And how you are double-crossing the Priests and Mages ...
ARMORER 2: You and Nephron are really doing a good job on the Akatosh Chantry, we must admit.
ARMORER 1: But now, we want that Fool's Ebony supply. We need it to increase our production, our quality -- and our prices. We can work with Nephron and his gang, we need warehouses and distribution anyway.
ARMORER 4: We could torture it out of you ...
ARMORER 3: We could let the Priests know about your plans -- they would throw you to the Afterdark Society in a flash!
ARMORER 5: We could let the Mages know -- they would send you to Oblivion for a very, very long time!
ARMORER 1: But we would rather you 'joined' our Guild. We cannot afford to leave Daggerfall for some hairy wilderness trip. Too much demand these days, for our services.
ARMORER 2: But we can send a group of our apprentices along to keep you company.
ARMORER 4: Our apprentices usually test all our products ... and will be just itching to test out there.
ADVENTURER: Gentlemen, gentlemen! Please - I really was going to give the whole deal to you, once I had gotten gold from everyone else.
(Armorer 5 slaps the Adventurer with a hot poker)
Ohhh ... well, I thought of it...
ARMORER 5: Sure! And I'm a Nymph!
ADVENTURER: Yes, Yes, Yes, you are very persuasive. I would welcome an ... er ... escort and guard of such tough gentlemen. Be very handy out there.
ARMORER 1: Good. Thought you would see it our way! Some of our other members are presently having a little ... chat with Nephron. We can handle him. And from now on, two of our bigger apprentices will always be close at hand. Protection, of course - this town can be quite dangerous at night ...
ARMORER 3: So continue with your arrangements, work with Nephron. You can always leave word about your departure date with any weapons shop. And about any problems you may have ...
ADVENTURER: Certainly, gentlemen. Yes, you are indeed very persuasive. I shall keep you up to date. And, er...thanks for the protection.
(Enter ORTHO, the very large apprentice) (The Adventurer is untied) (Exeunt Five Armorers)
ADVENTURER: Hello, who are you?
ORTHO: Me am Ortho!
ADVENTURER: My ... protection?
ORTHO: Me am Ortho!
ADVENTURER: You look very familiar to me for some reason. Have you every been to Morrowind?
ORTHO: Me am Ortho!
ADVENTURER: Fine then. (aside) My old man used to say the very worst thing that can happen to a fellow is an evening spent in the company of an earnest politician. This, I think, is a close second.
(Exeunt the Adventurer and Ortho) (Enter Epilogue)
EPILOGUE: Our play has six parts, and we've just finished the fourth. It's interesting I think that the Lusty Contessa has not made an appearance yet. You don't suppose our playwrite forgot he put her in the Dramatis Personae, do you? Well, you'll only know if you come back for The Fools' Ebony, Part the Fiveth. And if your neighbor decides not to return, don't tell him what happened. We actors have to make a living too, you know. Don't forget to tip your wenches while we change the scene.
Part The Fiveth -
Back With The Priests, Final Plans, and a Killing or Two is Reported...
Nearer the middle of the Month of Frostfall, The Inn of the Pink Nymph.
(Enter Prologue, the Adventurer, Ortho, Nephron, the Five Armorers, and Prologue)
PROLOGUE: Our roguish Dark Elf, the Adventurer has plummeted before our stunned eyes, from the king of the spider web of intrigue to a pathetic, crawling lump of Argonian excrement. In the quest for Fools' Ebony, that substance that all would kill for, the Adventurer attempted to play Mage against Priest with the help of the merchant Nephron. Alas, that is to say, alackaday, the five armorers have trapped Nephron and the Adventurer and taken over their scheme. The hulking Ortho now watches the Adventurer's every move. But I get the feeling -- to be honest, don't you? -- that beneath the Adventurer's defeated quivering jelly lurks a jungle cat of such cunning and resource to shatter all his enemies when the time is right. Of course, I could be wrong. Ah, I see one of the priests of Akatosh who believes himself a friend of the Adventurer. I, Prologue must away.
(Exit Prologue) (Enter Lheban, a Priest of Akatosh.)
LHEBAN: Evening there, mind if I join you?
ADVENTURER: Well ... since you already have - no. And where is our esteemed brother Komon this chill evening?
LHEBAN: You mean you haven't heard -- Oh, I guess you have been busy with the ... preparations?
ADVENTURER: Right, right, very busy...
LHEBAN: Then let me tell you -- Oh, what a bad business. What trouble ... Oh Dear ... Well ... you doubtless recall that poor Komon had this ... er ... problem -- overwork of course!
ADVENTURER: Oh yes -- you fellows do work exceeding hard, seems to me.
LHEBAN: Well ... recall how Komon left, somewhat erratically as it were, and ... er ... made off with that young blondie under the lamppost outside? Well -- in his ... er ... state of confusion - he grabbed the wrong blondie - Oh My, indeed the wrong one ...
ADVENTURER: They all look pretty much the same to me, but of course, I do not look too hard!
LHEBAN: Oh My! Well, to cut a short tale to the bone, old Komon grabbed a Contessa, who had thought to 'disguise herself.' Oh Dear!
ADVENTURER: Well -- did she get away? Did they catch Komon? What happened?
LHEBAN: Well, old Komon, tipsy as he was, was quick as spit in a gale. Eluded all pursuit, took the lady to a small private ... retreat house that we have. Oh Dear Me! Well, the City Guards, Palace guards, half a dozen Royals, all caught up with Komon 3 days later. One day too late for the poor Contessa -- I hear that they had a hard time locating all the ... er ... bits and pieces. Komon was there, passed out cold. And another body, some common blond lamppost girl. And by now he is cold -- permanently, most likely at the bottom of the Bay.
ADVENTURER: Oh well. Serves the Contessa right, coming down to this area. But I suppose that there are repercussions?
(Enter two more Priests, Raic and Stete of Julianos, and four armed City Guards.)
RAIC: Evening, Lheban. Evening, Adventurer. And --
ORTHO: Me am Ortho.
RAIC: Yesss. Charmed. And Lheban, you indeed have my sympathies ... if there is anything we can do to help -- our Temple of Julianos, that is ..? But really, you should have kept Komon on a tighter leash - or preferably a noose!
ADVENTURER: Hello Raic. And hello to you, Stete - how's your sister?
STETE: Oh, she's great.
(Raic sets Stete on fire, but it goes out)
LHEBAN: Yes, I know I know. Oh the repercussions! Do you know that the Priests of Akatosh to Daggerfall Castle, Wayrest Palace and just about everywhere else have all been thrown out? That the Royal tax exemption for the Chantry has been revoked? That the Akatosh Chantry has just received a 'past due taxes' bill? Oh My!
ADVENTURER: Well ... I suppose that we could help somewhat, maybe? Maybe a small loan from Julianos for that tax bill? With, say, a Temple as security? Oh -- are not the taxes based on the number of the Priests of Akatosh? So, maybe ... the School of Julianos could take over a ... significant number? Reduce your tax bill? You realize that this is not the best time for this -- just as we need a lot of funds for that expedition that I am arranging for you.
LHEBAN: Oh, I am so sorry about Komon! But, yes, maybe if good brother Raic could -- I hate to say this -- take over a greater share of the financial burden ..? In return, of course, for ... er ... considerations ..?
RAIC: Hmm. Like a good number of 'permanently' loaned priests? A long look at your books? At your cellar? Your name-lists? A Temple as security on our loan? And, of course, a bigger cut in the proceeds of this ... expedition? Names of your ... er ... suppliers ..?
LHEBAN: Oh. I foresaw something like this, talked a bit about it with old Mucky-Muck - livid, he was. But, as I am a Senior Brother, he finally authorized me to 'take care of it.' Those weren't his exact words, mind you, which were quite a bit ...longer, more explicit ... but the gist, at least.
ADVENTURER: Of course, Lheban. If -- and note I say 'if' -- if we are successful, why then you can easily get back into good graces at the Palace. Merely sell them the goods, as a good low rate! With first refusal on any shipment you have? What's one Contessa to them, anyway?
LHEBAN: Yes, yes! That could work! Worth a try. But how? Royals will not talk to anyone from the Akatosh Chantry now.
ADVENTURER: Leave that to me, I can make ... approaches to certain ones. Yes, I can probably persuade them to let up on the Chantry, in return for... future favors ...
LHEBAN: Oh, Oh how can I thank you?
ADVENTURER: Well, I need a fair amount of gold to finish setting up my little trip. Maybe 10,000? Special horses, reinforced carts, cartiers, guards ... the list goes on and on. And the cost of keeping our little trip quiet is really quite high.
LHEBAN: Well, yes, we can afford it, I guess -- you do have the map now, don't you? I know we can afford 8,000 gold. Given the potential profits ...
ADVENTURER: Rest easy! - it's all here in my cloak -- show you in a bit. I've also managed to ... hire some good young hefty fellows, like old Ortho here, to manage the carts, dig and load, act as guards, and so on ...
LHEBAN: Good, good - I can relax a bit. Oh my, the fellows back at the Chantry will be so relieved. We really owe you, the Brotherhood does -- Oh, I mean the Akatosh Chantry, of course!
STETE: Brotherhood ..? What about our sisterhood, eh?
(Raic grapples Stete, allowing Lheban to hit Stete with a large mallet)
ADVENTURER: Well, Raic, what about you and the School? How much are you good for, the extra 2000? And maybe some more - always lots of last minute expenses on a trip like this, you know.
RAIC: Well now. Since we seem to getting a whole extra sect of Priests, and ... other considerations ... Certainly!
ADVENTURER: Well, gentlemen -- Oh, and Stete -- here it is!
(The Adventurer pulls out a map, gives it to Raic)
Oh, by the Arms of Zenithar, did I ever have to work hard for this! Those cagey Mages! But, in the end, just greedy old fools! ... Oh, just in case you or your, er, Head Priest, hasn't seen the goods -- here's a sample. Play with it.
(The Adventurer hands Raic a small leather bag)
RAIC: Thank you, thank you. I must admit, I had some ... well, some doubts. You know - dealing with a stranger, so on ... No more. Partner!
ADVENTURER: Good, good!
(Stete hiccoughs)
STETE: Say, you fellows ever hear this one -- what's a Priest keep under his robe? Haha -- His sister! Haheheha!
(The Adventurer, Lheban, and Raic beat Stete into unconsciousness)
RAIC: You know, I fear that we really have to do something about young Stete here ... his sister thing ... ugh!
ADVENTURER: Yes, he could be another Komon -- just what don't need!
LHEBAN: Hmmmm. This sister of his -- does she really -- exist?
RAIC: Oh yes. My. Oh yes. We know her well - I mean, we have often seen her ...
LHEBAN: I think, Brother, that she should be made to see the errors of her ways. So she is no longer an influence on Stete ...
RAIC: Yes, most certainly ... Hmmm ...
LHEBAN: A somewhat Dibelytical theological point -- Oh, please excuse the technical discussion here - Raic, if we are to make her see the errors -- well, how shall I put it -- we first have to know just what the ... ways ... are, correct?
RAIC: Indeed, an astute observation! Hmmm ... so you are suggesting that ... in a nut, we should first determine her ... ways, so as to be able to then show her the ... er ... errors?
LHEBAN: Precisely! Mind you, a difficult, ardous, tiring project, I fear. One that will take all our ... will and energy.
RAIC: Hmmm, true. But challenging, eh? Take all our time - but then, we shall have some time, while friend the Adventurer here is off hauling and carting.
LHEBAN: And ... I personally, would feel far safer if we were ... in retreat maybe. Studying the ways ..?
ADVENTURER: Yeah -- be a good idea for you two to, maybe, disappear? For a while, of course. Cut down on the chances of a ... rival faction catching on? Or catching you?
RAIC: Very well! Lheban, why don't you and I take his sister off with us on a ... theological retreat, as it were? Study the ways in details, and so on ...
LHEBAN: We could go to that unused little Temple, up on that shoulder of Edward's Mountain ... out of the way, quiet ...
RAIC: Door has locks ...
LHEBAN: Thick walls ...
RAIC: A big cellar ...
LHEBAN: Good! It's settled then. A theological retreat! Oh goody!
RAIC: Of course, once we know the ... er ... ways in detail, we can of course tell old High Mucky-Muck, and let him take care of the ... er ... showing of the errors ..? Yes, that would improve his mood quite a bit ...
LHEBAN: Then it's agreed. Let's start, say, day after tomorrow?
RAIC: Yes! Adventurer, why don't I meet you at, oh, that horrid ugly statue of ... what on Tamriel is it? - a harpy and a gargoyle? Called something silly like 'Vendigao and Her Lover' or some such? Up in the north west corner of the town. Oh, and can I keep the map?
ADVENTURER: Sure, keep it, I have a copy. And you will pass me a small bag, there at that nasty statue?
RAIC: Have it all ready for you -- say, ten o'clock sharp? Oh, Lheban, another thought about young Stete here. He really needs some ... seasoning in the field, one might say ...?
LHEBAN: Hmmm. Good point ... I know! The priest who handles field assignments is coming by tomorrow. We could arrange an ... educational ...assignment for Stete?
RAIC: Very good! But where ... hmmm ... Winter's coming soon now. There's a vacancy up in Solitude, far north Skyrim, I believe. Night collections at street corners, or some such. Very Good! Come on, Lheban. We have accounts to work on. Good night to you then, Adventurer. Ten tomorrow morning! (Lheban, Raic rise to leave, picking up Stete)
Lheban and Raic (Together): ... have to arrange some supplies ... ... leather, rope ... holy wine .... ... lots of that pink powder ... I prefer the green, myself ...
(Exeunt Lheban, Raic dragging Stete, and City Guard)
NEPHRON: Well?
ADVENTURER: Excellent. Went just as I said it would. Got 5000 gold from them. And, thanks to your work with that Contessa ... we have the screws on the Chantry. And the School of Julianos is going to be ... otherwise engaged ... on a theological retreat. More like a Sanguine retreat!
NEPHRON: And those Mages Shub and Shub seem to have disappeared ...
ADVENTURER: So we are set?
NEPHRON: Yes, you can come by my warehouse tomorrow afternoon. Have the heavy carts waiting.
ORTHO: And Ortho ...
NEPHRON: Oh yes, must not forget you fellows. How kind of you to ... volunteer your services ...
ADVENTURER: Tomorrow, then!
(Exeunt omnes) (Last person to leave looks just like a Royal in disguise ...) (Enter Epilogue)
EPILOGUE: Well, we only have one part left to this play and I've run out counting the number of loose strings. Either Part the Sixth is going to be eight hours long, or we're going to leave some parts unsolved. I for one hope that they don't chose to drop the character of the Wanton Contessa. For Jephre's sake, she's been on the Dramatis Personae since Part the Oneth. Ah, well. Nobody leave your seat. Your gold will not be refunded. Any gold you can spare to tip your friendly wenches will be greatly appreciated. We just have a quick costume change and a set to put together and we'll be back. In the meanwhile, enjoy our bard's rendition of the Nordic classic "Alas, The Fleeting Years Glide By."
Part the Sixth
Daggerfall and Environs in the Doldrums of the 3rd Era
Scene 1: In The Adventurer's suite at the Dead Daedra Inn.
Enter Prologue, the Adventurer, and Ortho. Ortho climbs into bed.
PROLOGUE: Thank you for allowing us the time to change the meager set, while our bard sang that old favorite, "Hail and Farewell." Now then, imagine, if you will, the luxuriant and langorous suite of that Dark Elven rogue, the Adventurer, at the Dead Daedra Inn. The time is shortly after the last scene, which if you've forgotten, ended with our hero and his partner-in-crime, Nephron, making some arrangements to swindle from the mages, priests, and armorers. All are interested in getting their hands on a lode of Fools' Ebony, a miraculous burning mineral, and the priests and mages each consider the Adventurer their ally. The Armorers know better and have assigned one of their apprentices, Ortho, to watch the Adventurer's movements. Now, as Ortho slumbers, the Adventurer has his first moment of peace in days. I should mention that in the interest of common decency, this scene has been abbreviated from the original by order of the Guild of Playwrites, Actors, and Dramatists. It now contains little material of relevance. A full copy may be obtained from the playwrite after the show for a mere 50 g.p. copying fee. Now is the time for poor Prologue to shuffle away.
(Exit Prologue) (The Adventurer begins to get undressed)
(Tap-tap at the door. Adventurer jumps, startled) (Snore from Ortho)
ADVENTURER: Who's there? I'm coming!
(Opens door - carefully) (Enter CONTESSA)
ADVENTURER: Er, well ... er ... Come In! Please.
(The Adventuer steps back, tripping over his trousers around his ankles ...)
CONTESSA: So sorry to surprise you, but I thought that we might find something in common ... Oh! You poor man, you have a wound! Here, let me fix that bandage ... it looks very fresh.
(Fixing bandage, properly this time)
ADVENTURER: Well, I ... just opened it up again. Evening exercises, calisthenics, so on...
CONTESSA: How did you get this cut - if you do not mind me asking?
ADVENTURER: No, not at all. I was ... in a fight, earlier. These three crazy people jumped me.
CONTESSA: Really? This cloth looks like part of a Mage's robe.
ADVENTURER: Well, yes, two of them were Mages.
CONTESSA: Oh My! You must have been very good, to defeat them.
ADVENTURER: Oh, ah, well, I've been in one or two fights. Not to be rude, but who are you?
CONTESSA: Oh, I am so sorry, I quite forgot the proper introductions. I am the Contessa Aveet Videspreed -- call me Ave. From the Court at Daggerfall.
ADVENTURER (aside): By Oblivion, what now?
CONTESSA: Here, help me off with this robe, these inn rooms are always ... so hot. And let me check that bandage again, poor man. Ooh, you are wearing an ebony belt of stamina, and bracers of strength. Ooh, a bracelet of endurance. This is my lucky night.
ADVENTURER (aside): Help.
CONTESSA: Here, let me help you off with that old shirt - got to check you for any more cuts - they can go bad so easily, you know.
ADVENTURER (aside): Well, its not the Armorers this time. Maybe my luck has turned.
CONTESSA: Well, everything seems all right...very all right, in fact...
ADVENTURER: Er...well, Ave - tell me about ... er ... yourself.
CONTESSA: If you want - just for a bit -
ADVENTURER: Here, have some wine ...
Enter Prologue
PROLOGUE: Here our worthy playwrite's speech has been heavily edited by the Guild of Playwrites, Actors, and Dramatists. I will endeavor to fill in those removed passages. I should first mention that the Contessa is not meant to be a relative of any noble currently in Castle Daggerfall. The Contessa Aveet regales the Adventurer with tales of the peculiar and hearty members of her royal family. She has many brothers and sisters. They are all very -- close.
CONTESSA: I think I must have been a bastard. I was the only one with red hair, and an affinity for magicka. Everyone else tried to hide this skill of mine. I remember one spanking very well ...
PROLOGUE: The Contessa relates further differences between her siblings.
CONTESSA: While my sisters were learning to curtsey in ten different modes, and my brothers were learning flower-arranging, I used to sneak off into the woods or town. I soon learnt how to get what I wanted, from just about anyone. Just for example, there was this merchant who had three sons ...
PROLOGUE: The Contessa goes into detail about her training.
CONTESSA: I became quite good at the school of illusion. You never noticed me, downstairs, did you?. I also learned how to use some weapons. Let me tell you how I learned hand-to-hand ...
PROLOGUE: The Contessa relates an amusing anecdote, and then continues.
CONTESSA: And on bad days, I used to dig in my father's library. He had a marvelous collection of old texts. I was fascinated by Old Dwarvish, managed to learn it quite well, I think. Of course, no one has seen or spoken to one in years and years. So its probably perfectly useless knowledge. But I've always had an interest in collecting new knowledge. At the Mages Guild, they taught me an old High Elven tradition. You spread this potion all over your body...
PROLOGUE: The Contessa relates her current state of boredom.
CONTESSA: The life up at the Palace bores me so. My sisters ...
PROLOGUE: The Contessa's sisters are entertaining some visitors.
CONTESSA: And my brothers are now studying Advanced Floral Theory, so I come down here, do a little ... er ... business. I keep all my relations supplied with their favorite vices -- so I can blackmail the whole rotten lot.
ADVENTURER: But isn't it dangerous, down here? Did I not hear that some young Contessa got killed, recently?
CONTESSA: That little twit was my cousin, and as far as I'm concerned, she got what she deserved. She thought she could just borrow a maids dress, muss up her hair, and pass for commoner. She was spotted the first minute she left the Palace gates. Now, I use illusion, craft, guile -- and I carry weaponry. By the way, that was a neat scheme you and Neph cooked up.
ADVENTURER: Well, lets change the subject, can we? ... Just what do you carry? I can't see anything ... like a weapon, I mean ...
CONTESSA: Here, let me show you ...
ADVENTURER: Oh my, those are nice ... knives...
CONTESSA: And there're more ...
ADVENTURER: Oh yes...
CONTESSA: But we don't need these silly nasty weapons now, do we?
ADVENTURER: My, my -- now those are what I call weapons ... Oh yes ... heavy duty, high class ones too, my ...
CONTESSA: I think its time that we put that ebony to the test ... to say nothing of your Mages Staff ...
PROLOGUE: At this point, extensive material has been removed. However, please remember that any scholar who truly wishes to peruse this material can obtain a copy for only 50 g.p. - hand-drawn illustrations are of course extra. The Contessa, after a bit of fun, volunteers to be a part of the Adventurer's party to find the fools' ebony lode. I know, I know. It didn't make much sense in the original draft either, if you want to know the truth.
(Exit Prologue)
ADVENTURER: Sure you want to go out there in the wilds?
CONTESSA: Oh, yes. I am so bored here. Well, not right here and now, but generally. And I can really be of assistance. I'm pretty good with woods survival, knife work, hand-to-hand ... and it gets cold out there at night, even for big ebony-wearing men like you ...
ADVENTURER: All right, then. Do you know where and why we are going?
CONTESSA: Oh, of course. It's all over Daggerfall. Everyone is watching and waiting to see what happens. There is even a lottery or two running ...
ADVENTURER: On what ..?
CONTESSA: Oh, your life.
ADVENTURER: Oh dear Oh dear! Oh my!
CONTESSA: Look, don't worry -- I know all about the double-dealings with mages, priests, merchants, those crude armorers. And I intend that we come out on top. I love being on top. With the goods and the profits. I'll have yet another vice to sell to my stupid relatives in their boring palaces.
ADVENTURER: But won't it be us two against hordes?
CONTESSA: Oh no. Most everyone is waiting here in town to see what and who comes back. And I will have a surprise arranged for our 'escorts' - Ortho included. Out in the wilderness, they can be dealt with easily.
(Ortho snores)
ADVENTURER: Tell me more.
CONTESSA: Certainly. But first ... lets see how many uses you have left in that ebony. Mmm, your Mages' Staff is in good shape ...
(Enter Prologue)
PROLOGUE: Exactly. Sorry to interrupt again, but we're going to have to stop this scene right here. After a frenzied night comes the placid dawn, tripping onto the sky like a budding rose. And then another day doth dawn, and then another. Ten dawns and ten frenzied nights pass as our wily Adventurer, the wanton Contessa, the clever and naughty Nephron, the loutish Ortho, and an assemblage of randy armorers and backsliding maidens take to the road. Imagine now that we are in the wildy wilderness of High Rock near the Wrothgarian Mountains.
Scene 2
(Enter Nephron and assorted lads and lasses) (Exit Prologue)
CONTESSA: I do so love a bucolic frolic.
ADVENTURER: It's getting pretty wild now. I guess the dangerous part is coming up tomorrow...?
CONTESSA: Yes, one last stop tonight, at that old inn up here -- Minnie's Inn.
ADVENTURER: Minnie's Inn? Oh, those two old scholars who gave it all up, came to run the inn out here. they must get all of two customers a year.
CONTESSA: I think they like the solitude. It gives them time to study. They know a lot about old Dwarvish stuff - get them started on that, they will wear you ears out.
ADVENTURER: Er ... when does your surprise happen? I should probably know.
CONTESSA: Don't fret, dear. At the Inn tonight. Just sit back and enjoy the show.
(Enter Prologue)
PROLOGUE: Time passes, the carts roll, things happen in the backs of the carts. And there are strange furtive movements unnoticed by all, on the high ridges around. When next we see our players, they are at Minnie's Inn, home of Minnie and Crunn, the philosopher- innkeeps. Imagine, if you will, the rather dusty dining room of Minnie's Inn.
(Enter MINNIE, CRUNN, and GURNSEY) (Exit Prologue) (Gurnsey goes to Orthos' table with more ale for him. She sits down suddenly. She stares into Orthos' eyes, Ortho stares into hers. Mouths drop open.)
MINNIE: ... er ... Crunn ...
CRUNN: ... yes ... Minnie ...
MINNIE: ... I was thinking ...
CRUNN: ... yes, you were thinking, Minnie ...
MINNIE: ... er .... thinking ...
CRUNN: ... yes ...so was I ....
MINNIE: ... can't remember now ...
CRUNN: ... yes, Minnie ... Minnie ...
MINNIE: ... Yes ..?
CRUNN: ... Shut up ...
GURNSEY and ORTHO (Together): Moo ... oooh ... moo.
ADVENTURER: Moo?
CONTESSA: See, Adventurer, Ortho's fixed.
ADVENTURER: Is he?
CONTESSA: You just watch.
ADVENTURER: And what about the other armorers?
CONTESSA: Any minute now.
(Ortho and serving girl arise, approach Adventurers' table. The floor shakes.)
ORTHO: This Gurnsey. Ortho love Gurnsey, oooh.
GURNSEY: Gurnsey love Ortho ... moo ...
ORTHO: We go get marry, we is.
ADVENTURER: Well, congratulations! And that was a fine long speech, Ortho!
ORTHO: We go raise piggies.
GURNSEY: Grows animals too, farmers be we.
(Exit Ortho and Gurnsey)
ADVENTURER: Extraordinary. Ave, I think that you must have been up here before.
CONTESSA: Oh yes. I often come up here to get away from the Palace and talk dwarves with Minnie and Crunn.
ADVENTURER: You mean that these two ancient ... er, Scholar-InnKeeps can actually talk and about dwarves?
(All but Adventurer, Contessa, Minnie, and Crunn fall asleep in their meat pies.)
CONTESSA: Oh yes, you must just be very patient. But look over at our other escorts ...
ADVENTURER: By the Lady!
CONTESSA: Minnie was an Alchemist before she met Crunn, and knows a lot of old forgotten Dwarvish potions.
ADVENTURER: But what do we do with the bodies?
CONTESSA: Wait ...
(Enter MAJOR)
CONTESSA: Adventurer, meet Major Bloodnok, head of my own ...private little bodyguard. He's been with me since I was a mere girl. Served me very well, haven't you, Major?
MAJOR: We give our all, milady.
ADVENTURER: Pleased to meet you, Major.
CONTESSA: How are my other men?
ADVENTURER: (aside) Other men?
(Enter Other Men in Khajiit suits)
MAJOR: All present and accounted for, milady. Had a spot of bother with what looked like a party of Merchants following you. But they are out of the picture now, down a ravine. Only one thing.
CONTESSA: Yes?
MAJOR: Me and my men, we've been noticing sort of furtive movements, up on cliffs, on ridges -- always just out of the corners of ou
Rude Song In the spring of the year
Doth propriety disappear
In the courts and the ports
Of the Bay.
Drinking new beer,
Everybody feels queer
And the Earls and the churls
Go astray.
The bee and the bird
Don't have to tell us a word.
Our bodies for naughties
Are prime.
If you haven't heard,
You can let yourself be lured
For the youth, for things uncouth,
It is time.
Oh, it's lovely to sit in a field, harvested into rows
It's lovelier still to do the same not wearing any clothes.
People of the Bay bless
The flowered court of Wayrest
For showing us the gentle way of sin
The bonny Dark Elf queen
Likes to see and to be seen
With cobblers, thieves,
And tavernkeeps,
And slaves, and fish-er-men.
In the court of Lainlyn,
Right upon the mainland
With sex, the whole place is in a whirl.
The Baroness likes to play
With men who come her way,
While the Baron likes the little boys and girls.
Oh, it's lovely to give your lady a kiss upon her nose
It's lovelier still to do the same not wearing any clothes.
In Daggerfall, they hold a ball
And all of society indulges in a variety
Of scandal, they can handle --
A lot.
The Captain of the Guard
Has to search very hard
For a bean that the Queen Has in her pants.
And the Court Sorceress
Will grant you a wish
To cause the King to fling
About his lance.
Oh, it's lovely to give your love a single perfect rose
It's lovelier still to do the same not wearing any clothes.
Oh, it's lovely to abandon all your cares and fears and woes
It's lovelier still to do the same not wearing any clothes.
Yes sir, it's lovely not wear any clothes!
Withershinsby Yaqut Tawashi
"All right," said Kazagha. "Why don't you want to talk?"
Zaki put down his mug of mead and just stared at his wife for a few seconds. Finally, grudgingly: "Because everything I have a conversation, darling, it flows in alphabetical order. Just like I told you. I think the only way to stop it is not to talk at all."
"Couldn't you just be imagining this?" said Kazagha patiently. "It wouldn't be the first time you had an insane paranoid delusion. Remember when you thought the royal battlemage of Black Marsh was hiding behind every tree with a rape kit, intent on making you -- a middle-aged, fat, balding tailor -- into his personal sex slave? You don't need to be ashamed, but it's Sheogorath's way to make us all a little crazy sometimes. If you go to the healer--"
"Damn it, Kazagha!" snarled Zaki and stomped out, slamming the door behind him. He nearly collided with Siyasat, his neighbor.
"Excuse me," she said to Zaki's back. He clamped his hands over his ears as he stormed down the street, turning the corner to his tailor shop. His first customer was waiting out front, smiling widely. Zaki tried to keep his temper under control and took out his keys, returning the customer's smile.
"Fine day," said the young man.
"Gods!" hollered Zaki, sending the young man flying with a well-placed punch, and dashing away.
As much as he hated to admit that Kazagha was right, it was evidently time, once again, for one of the healer's herbal cocktails. Tarsu's temple to health, mental and physical, was several streets north, an impressive obelisk. Halqa, the chief herbalist, met him before he came in the hall.
"How are you today, Sa'Zaki Saf?"
"I need to make an appointment with Tarsu," said Zaki in his calmest voice.
"Just one moment, let me see how his schedule looks." Halqa said, looking over a scroll. "Is this an emergency?"
"Kind of," said Zaki, and slapped his head. Why couldn't he say yes, or absolutely, or sure?
"Let's see," said Halqa, frowning. "The best I can do is next Middas. Would that work for you?"
"Middas!" cried Zaki. "I'll be a complete psychotic by Middas. Isn't there anything earlier?"
He knew what the answer would be before she said it. There was no alternative. In a way, he had forced the response. If only he had kept the conversation going until "Y."
"No," said Halqa. "I'm sorry. Do you want me to make the appointment--?"
Zaki walked away, gritting his teeth. He wandered the streets, his head down to avoid all conversations, until he looked up and discovered that he had walked all the way to the wharf. A sweet breeze was blowing along the water and he took several deep breaths until he felt almost normal. When his temper cooled, he could think again. What if this alphabetical conversation wasn't a delusion at all? What if what he felt wasn't paranoia, but acute awareness? He knew it was the classic dilemma: am I crazy or is there really something weird going on?
Across the road was a shop called ParaDocks, featuring a display of herbs, crystals, and vapors trapped in orbs . The sign in the window read "Mystical Consultation sunrise to noon." It was worth a shot, though Zaki was dubious. The only people who generally came down the wharf for healing were stupid adventurers who didn't know any better.
Incense burned in copious billows of pink and gold, obscuring and then revealing the clutter within. Jijjic death masks glowered down from the walls, smoking censors hung by chains from the ceiling, and the floor was a maze of bookshelves. At a wellworn table in the back a small man wearing a headress was tabulating a young lady's purchases.
"Okay," said the man. "Your total comes to fifty-seven gold pieces. I threw in the restorative scale conditioner for free. Just remember, the candle should be lit only after you invoke Goroflox The Unholy, and mandrake root does best in partial shade."
The customer gave a quick, shy smile to Zaki and left the store.
"Please help me," said Zaki. "Every conversation I hear or get involved in seems to be arranged alphabetically. I don't know if I'm going insane or if there are some kind of bizarre forces at work. To be honest with you, I'm normally a skeptic when it comes to your type of business, but I'm at the end of my rope. Can you do anything to make this madness end?"
"Quite a common problem, actually," said the man, patting Zaki on the arm. "When you get to the end of the alphabet, do conversations then go to reverse alphabetical order or start at the beginning of the alphabet?"
"Reverse alphabetical order," said Zaki, and then corrected himself. "Damn it! I mean, it starts from the beginning, all over again. I'm in agony. Can you call on the spirits and tell me, am I insane?"
"Sauriki," said the man with a reassuring smile. "I don't have to. You're quite sane."
"Thank you," said Zaki, frowning. "By the way, my name's Zaki, not Sauriki."
"Unusually close, eh?" said the man, patting Zaki on the back. "My name's Octoplasm. Follow me, please. I think I have just what you need."
Octoplasm lead Zaki down the narrow corridor behind the desk. The two men pushed past dusty cabinets filled with strange creatures in liquids, past heaps of neolithic stones, past stack after stack of moldering leather-bound books, into the dank heart of the store. There he picked up a small, squat cylindrical drum and a book, and handed them to Zaki.
"'Vampirism, Daedric Possession, and Withershin Therapy,'" said Zaki, squinting his eyes to read the book in the gloom. "What in Oblivion does this have to do with me? I'm not a vampire, look at this tan. And what's Withershin Therapy, and how much will it cost me?"
"Withershins, from the Old Cyrodilic withersynes, which means backwards," said Octoplasm in a serious tone. "It's the art of reversing the direction of things in order to gain access to the spirit world, and break curses, cure vampirism, and trigger all manners of apotropaic healing. You know the story about the guy who was told that slaughterfish live in hot water, so he said, 'Well, let's boil them in cold water'?"
"Xenophus," said Zaki instinctively, his brother having taken a rather esoteric upper level course in Cyrodilic philosophy as an elective in at the Imperial College thirty-one years before, and immediately wishing he hadn't. "And what do you do with the cylindrical thingy?"
Octoplasm lit a candle and held the object over it so Zaki could see more clearly. All along the cylinder were narrow slits and when Zaki peered within them, he saw a succession of old black and white drawings of a naked man leaping over boxes, one frame after the next.
"You spin it like so," said Octoplasm, slowly whirling the device clockwise so the man within leapt over the boxes over and over again. "It's called a zoetrope. Pretty neat, eh? Now, you take it and start spinning it counterclockwise, and while you're doing it, read this incantation I've marked in the book."
Zaki took the zoetrope and began spinning it counterclockwise over the candle, so the little naked man within seemed to bound backwards over the boxes. It took a little coordination and concentration to keep whirling at a steady pace, but gradually the man's awkward and jerky backjumps became more and more fluid until Zaki could no longer see the individual frames flipping. It looked just like a little humanoid hamster on an endless reverse treadmill. While he continued to spin the zoetrope with one hand, Zaki took the book in the other and read the underlined passage.
"Zoetrope counter-spin, counter-spin, counter-spin / Pull my life from the rut that it's in / I invoke the Goddesses Boethiah, Kynareth, and Drisis / To invert my potentially metaphysical crisis / My old life may have been rather pointless and plain / But I dislike the prospect of going insane / Make the pattern reverse by this withershin / Zoetrope, counter-spin, counter-spin, counter-spin."
As he chanted the spell, Zaki noticed that the little naked man in the zoetrope began to look more like himself. The moustache vanished, and the hairline receded. The man's waistline expanded, and the buttocks sagged to the shape and texture of half-inflated balloons. Scales approximating his own Argonian pattern appeared. The man began to trip as he bounded backwards over the boxes, taking bigger breaths and sweating. By the time Zaki reached the end of the incantation, his twin was clutching his chest and tumbling end-over-end over the boxes in a free-fall.
Octoplasm took the zoetrope and the book from Zaki's hands. Nothing seemed to have changed. No thunder had rumbled. No winged serpents had sprung out of Zaki's head. No fiery explosions. But Zaki felt that something was different. Good different. Normal.
At the counter, when Zaki pulled out his sachel of gold pieces, Octoplasm merely shook his head: "Are treatment radical such of effects term long the what sure be can't we, naturally. Charge no."
Feeling the first real relief he had felt in days, Zaki walked backwards out of the shop and down the road to his shop.
(c) 2002 bethsda soft inc
By the time she was sixteen, Minevah Iolos had been an unwelcome guest in every shop and manor in Balmora. Sometimes, she would take everything of value within; other times, it was enough to experience the pure pleasure of finding a way past the locks and traps. In either situation, she would leave a pair of dice in a prominent location as her calling card to let the owners know who had burgled them. The mysterious ghost became known to the locals as Chance.
A typical conversation in Balmora at this time:
"My dear, whatever happened to that marvelous necklace of yours?"
"My dear, it was taken by Chance."
The only time when Chance disliked her hobby was when she miscalculated, and she came upon an owner or a guard. So far, she had never been caught, or even seen, but dozens of times she had uncomfortably close encounters. There came a day when she felt it was time to expand her reach. She considered going to Vivec or Gnisis, but one night at the Eight Plates, she heard a tale of the Heran Ancestral Tomb, an ancient tomb filled with traps and possessing hundreds of years of the Heran family treasures.
The idea of breaking the spell of the Heran Tomb and gaining the fortune within appealed to Chance, but facing the guardians was outside of her experience. While she was considering her options, she saw Ulstyr Moresby sitting at a table nearby, by himself as usual. He was huge brute of a Breton who had a reputation as a gentle eccentric, a great warrior who had gone mad and paid more attention to the voices in his head than to the world around him.
If she must have a partner in this enterprise, Chance decided, this man would be perfect. He would not demand or understand the concept of getting an equal share of the booty. If worse came to worse, he would not be missed if the inhabitants of the Heran Tomb were too much for him. Or if Chance found his company tiresome and elected to leave him behind.
"Ulstyr, I don't think we've ever met, but my name is Minevah," she said, approaching the table. "I'm fancying a trip to the Heran Ancestral Tomb. If you think you could handle the monsters, I could take care of unlocking doors and popping traps. What do you think?"
The Breton took a moment to reply, as if considering the counsel of the voices in his head. Finally he nodded his head in the affirmative, mumbling, "Yes, yes, yes, prop a rock, hot steel. Chitin. Walls beyond doors. Fifty-three. Two months and back."
"Splendid," said Chance, not the least put off by his rambling. "We'll leave early tomorrow."
.
When Chance met Ulstyr the next morning, he was wearing chitin armor and had armed himself with an unusual blade that glowed faintly of enchantment. As they began their trek, she tried to engage him in conversation, but his responses were so nonsensical that she quickly abandoned the attempts. A sudden rainstorm swelled over the plain, dousing them, but as she was wearing no armor and Ulstyr was wearing slick chitin, their progress was not impeded.
Into the dark recesses of the Heran Tomb, they delved. Her instincts had been correct -- they made very good partners.
She recognized the ancient snap-wire traps, deadfalls, and brittle backs before they were triggered, and cracked all manners of lock: simple tumbler, combination, twisted hasp, double catch, varieties from antiquity with no modern names, rusted heaps that would have been dangerous to open even if one possessed the actual key.
Ulstyr for his part slew scores of bizarre fiends, the likes of which Chance, a city girl, had never seen before. His enchanted blade's spell of fire was particularly effective against the Frost Atronachs. He even saved her when she lost her footing and nearly plummeted into a shadowy crack in the floor.
"Not to hurt thyself," he said, his face showing genuine concern. "There are walls beyond doors and fifty-three. Drain ring. Two months and back. Prop a rock. Come, Mother Chance."
Chance had not been listening to much of Ulstyr's babbling, but when he said "Chance," she was startled. She had introduced herself to him as Minevah. Could it be that the peasants were right, and that when mad men spoke, they were talking to the daedra prince Sheogorath who gave them advice and information beyond their ken? Or was it rather, more sensibly, that Ulstyr was merely repeating what he heard tell of in Balmora where in recent years "Chance" had become synonymous with lockpicking?
As the two continued on, Chance thought of Ulstyr's mumblings. He had said "chitin" when they met as if it had just occurred to him, and the chitin armor that he wore had proven useful. Likewise, "hot steel." What could "walls beyond doors" mean? Or "two months and back"? What numbered "fifty-three"?
The notion that Ulstyr possessed secret knowledge about her and the tomb they were in began to unnerve Chance. She made up her mind then to abandon her companion once the treasure had been found. He had cut through the living and undead guardians of the dungeon: if she merely left by the path they had entered, she would be safe without a defender.
One phrase he said made perfect sense to her: "drain ring." At one of the manors in Balmora, she had picked up a ring purely because she thought it was pretty. It was not until later that she discovered that it could be used to sap other people's vitality. Could Ulstyr be aware of this? Would he be taken by surprise if she used it on him?
She formulated her plan on how best to desert the Breton as they continued down the hall. Abruptly the passage ended with a large metal door, secured by a golden lock. Using her pick, Chance snapped away the two tumblers and bolt, and swung the door open. The treasure of the Heran Tomb was within.
Chance quietly slipped her glove off her hand, exposing the ring as she stepped into the room. There were fifty-three bags of gold within. As she turned, the door closed between her and the Breton. On her side, it did not resemble a door anymore, but a wall. Walls beyond doors.
For many days, Chance screamed and screamed, as she tried to find a way out of the room. For some days after that, she listened dully to the laughter of Sheogorath within her own head. Two months later, when Ulstyr returned, she was dead. He used a rock to prop open the door and remove the gold.
(c) bethesda soft 2002
The Ransom of Zarek
Ancient Tales of the Dwemer, Part IBy Marobar Sul
Jalemmil stood in her garden and read the letter her servant had brought to her. The bouquet of joss roses in her hand fell to the ground. For a moment it was as if all birds had ceased to sing and a cloud had passed over the sky. Her carefully cultivated and structured haven seemed to flood over with darkness.
"We have thy son," it read. "We will be in touch with thee shortly with our ransom demands."
Zarek had never made it as far as Akgun after all. One of the brigands on the road, Orcs probably, or accursed Dunmer, must have seen his well-appointed carriage, and taken him hostage. Jalemmil clutched at a post for support, wondering if her boy had been hurt. He was but a student, not the sort to fight against well-armed men, but had they beaten him? It was more than a mother's heart could bear to imagine.
"Don't tell me they sent the ransom note so quickly," called a family voice, and a familiar face appeared through the hedge. It was Zarek. Jalemmil hurried to embrace her boy, tears running down her face.
"What happened?" she cried. "I thought thou had been kidnapped."
"I was," said Zarek. "Three huge soaring Nords attacked by carriage on the Frimvorn Pass. Brothers, as I learned, named Mathais, Ulin, and Koorg. Thou should have seen these men, mother. Each one of them would have had trouble fitting through the front door, I can tell thee."
"I thought about waiting for that, but I knew they'd send off a ransom note and I know how thou does worry. So I remembered what my mentor at Akgun always said about remaining calm, observing thy surroundings, and looking for thy opponent's weakness," Zarek grinned. "It took a while, though, because these fellows were truly monsters. And then, when I listened to them, bragging to one another, I realized that vanity was their weakness."
"What did thou do?"
"They had me chained at their camp in the woods not far from Cael, on a high knoll over-looking a wide river. I heard one of them, Koorg, telling the others that it would take the better part of an hour to swim across the river and back. They were nodding in agreement, when I spoke up.
"'I could swim that river and back in thirty minutes,' I said.
"'Impossible,' said Koorg. 'I can swim faster than a little whelp like thee.'
"So it was agreed that we would dive off the cliff, swim to the center island, and return. As we went to our respective rocks, Koorg took it upon himself to lecture me about all the fine points of swimming. The importance of synchronized movements of the arms and legs for maximum speed. How essential it was to breathe after only third or fourth stroke, not too often to slow thyself down, but not too often to lose one's air. I nodded and agreed to all his fine points. Then we dove off the cliffs. I made it to the island and back in a little over an hour, but Koorg never returned. He had dashed his brains at the rocks at the base of the cliff. I had noticed the telltale undulations of underwater rocks, and had taken the diving rock on the right."
"But thou returned?" asked Jalemmil, astounded. "Was that not then when thou escaped?"
"It was too risky to escape then," said Zarek. "They could have easily caught me again, and I wasn't keen to be blamed for Koorg's disappearance. I said I did not know what happened to him, and after some searching, they decided he had forgotten about the race and had swum ashore to hunt for food. They could not see how I could have had anything to do with his disappearance, as fully visible as I was throughout my swim. The two brothers began making camp along the rocky cliff-edge, picking an ideal location so that I would not be able to escape.
"One of the brothers, Mathais, began commenting on the quality of the soil and the gradual incline of the rock that circled around the bay below. Ideal, he said, for a foot race. I expressed my ignorance of the sport, and he was keen to give me details of the proper technique for running a race. He made absurd faces, showing how one must breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth; how to bend one's knees to the proper angle on the rise; the importance of sure foot placement. Most important, he explained, was that the runner keep an aggressive but not too strenuous pace if one intends to win. It is fine to run in second place through the race, he said, provided one has the willpower and strength to pull out in the end.
"I was an enthusiastic student, and Mathais decided that we ought to run a quick race around the edge of the bay before night fell. Ulin told us to bring back some firewood when we came back. We began at once down the path, skirting the cliff below. I followed his advice about breath, gait, and foot placement, but I ran with all my power right from the start. Despite his much longer legs, I was a few paces ahead as we wound the first corner.
"With his eyes on my back, Mathais did not see the gape in the rock that I jumped over. He plummeted over the cliff before he had a chance to cry out. I spent a few minutes gathering some twigs before I returned to Ulin at camp."
"Now thou were just showing off," frowned Jalemmil. "Surely that would have been a good time to escape."
"Thou might think so," agreed Zarek. "But thou had to see the topography -- a few large trees, and then nothing but shrubs. Ulin would have noticed my absence and caught up with me in no time, and I would have had a hard time explaining Mathais's absence. However, the brief forage around the area allowed me to observe some of the trees close up, and I could formulate my final plan.
"When I got back to camp with a few twigs, I told Ulin that Mathais was slow coming along, dragging a large dead tree behind him. Ulin scoffed at his brother's strength, saying it would take him time to pull up a live tree by the roots and drop it on the bonfire. I expressed reasonable doubt.
"'I'll show thee,' he said, ripping up a ten foot tall specimen effortlessly.
"'But that's scarcely a sapling,' I objected. 'I thought thou could rip up a tree.' His eyes followed mine to a magnificent, heavy-looking one at the edge of the clearing. Ulin grabbed it and began to shake it with a tremendous force to loosen its roots from the dirt. With that, he loosened the hive from the uppermost branches, dropping it down onto his head.
"That was when I made my escape, mother," said Zarek, in conclusion, showing a little schoolboy pride. "While Mathais and Koorg were at the base of the cliff, and Ulin was flailing about, engulfed by a swarm."
I was reluctant to publish the works of Marobar Sul, but when the University of Gwylim Press asked me to edit this edition, I decided to use this as an opportunity to set the record straight once and for all.
Scholars do not agree on the exact date of Marobar Sul's work, but it is generally agreed that they were written by the playwright "Gor Felim," famous for popular comedies and romances during the Interregnum between the fall of the First Cyrodilic Empire and the rise of Tiber Septim. The current theory holds that Felim heard a few genuine Dwemer tales and adapted them to the stage in order to make money, along with rewritten versions of many of his own plays.
Gor Felim created the persona of "Marobar Sul" who could translate the Dwemer language in order to add some sort of validity to the work and make it even more valuable to the gullible. Note that while "Marobar Sul" and his works became the subject of heated controversy, there are no reliable records of anyone actually meeting "Marobar Sul," nor was there anyone of that name employed by the Mages Guild, the School of Julianos, or any other intellectual institution.
In any case, the Dwemer in most of the tales of "Marobar Sul" bear little resemblance to the fearsome, unfathomable race that frightened even the Dunmer, Nords, and Redguards into submission and built ruins that even now have yet to be understood.
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