Full Summary:
Having the soul of a dragon does little to shrink the ego. So when the Dragonborn offends the Prince of Nightmares, she gets dragged from Tamriel into a world where her titles mean nothing and her worst enemy is the world's most worshipped god.
It was supposed to be simple. Sneak into the Conclave, figure out the terms of the peace and how the clan would be affected by it. Now there's a hole in the sky, a mark on his hand that wants him dead, and a woman who thinks she's a dragon born mortal. And of course the populace thinks that they are Andraste's Vanguard.
These nightmares were starting to become an issue. Shortly after moving into the sanctuary at Dawnstar, the Family began to dream. They started out innocent (poor diction) enough, your standard bad dreams and ill omens. But as the months wore on they became worse until no one could sleep, either through their own night terrors or the screams of those affected. And if there is one thing worse than living with an eternal child, a psychotic jester, a man who puts the "professional" professional murder, and 2 recruits, it is living with these 5 who have 10 hours of sleep between them for the past week.
"Nazir, I swear by the Dread Father, if you touch my alchemy ingredients one more time, you will wish you had died with the rest of our family." Once again Babette and Nazir were bickering over something undoubtedly petty.
"My dear Babette, if you wish me to leave your things alone, quit leaving them laying about our home."
"But they weren't! They were all stored properly by my workbench!"
"Then why did I find samples of deathbell and nightshade in the kitchen?! You and Amarie might enjoy a little spice of death with your morning meal, but I for one would like to avoid an early grave!"
By the Nines those did two bicker worse than an old married couple. Which would be cute, if Babette hadn't been 11 for the past 300 years and Nazir didn't look like he was pushing 50.
"Hehehehehe. Cicero took those, unchild! Cicero was making an oil for the Night Mother! Deathbell and nightshade give her such a lovely shine!" Cicero always took his duties as Keeper seriously, but one of the downsides of being insane was logic didn't always assert itself in his decision making process.
"I don't care if it would bring Her back to life! If you're need something off my alchemy table, ask me first!"
If there was one thing that Amarie hated more than Cicero's annoying voice, it was Babette's when she became upset.
"But the Listener said-"
"ENOUGH!" Dust and a few icicles fell from the ceiling with the force of Amarie's Voice. "Cicero. I said if there was something you need, ASK and we'll see about getting it, not to go and take it. Nazir, if you REALLY wanted to keep living you would do well to remember to not antagonize the person who can make a poison to kill you so slowly you wish she had lit you on fire. And Babette. You're 300 years old. Learn to share. I am going out. If when I get back you lot are STILL bickering I will personally sell your souls to the Ideal Masters for parlor tricks! Are we clear?"
"Yes Listener," three voices chorused back.
"Good. You. New minion. I hereby give you permission to use any of the scrolls in the library to keep these three from fighting. Whether that means silence or something a little more... exotic, I leave to you."
"Yes Listener," the recruit squeaked out, trying desperately to return to the anonymity that had just been threatened by the most powerful person in the room.
Amarie quickly left the sanctuary, trusting her threats to keep them civil for at least a few hours. The walk to the local tavern did little to improve her mood, no thanks to the blizzard that was currently raging. At least Thoring knew how to keep drinks coming. Although that might have something to do with being the leader of the most feared guild of assassins. Perks of the job, she guessed.
"Thoring!" Amarie called out a she strode in, "my associates are driving me insane. I need drink, and a lot of it."
"Wha- oh! Of course! Anything in particular you desire this evening?", Thoring replied. Was that a hint of fear in his voice?
"Alcohol. Lots of alcohol."
"Lots of alcohol coming right up."
He quickly came over to Amarie's table with two bottles of wine and three bottles of mead.
"You said lots of alcohol, " Thoring said in response to Amarie's raised eyebrow.
"So I did. How much do I owe you?"
"Oh its no trouble. It's the least I can do for the savior of Tamriel." Yep, definately fear in his voice
Amarie sighed. "We've been over this Thoring. Despite whatever I've done, or you think I've done, I am still just a customer, and you are still an innkeeper with a business to run. You can't do that if you're giving away product all the time. Here, this should cover it." She pulled a garnet out of her money pouch.
"No no, this is too much. I can't accept this."
"Well I don't have any coins, and I won't take charity, so how about you take it and we call it even. If it makes you feel better say I bought everyone else drinks."
Thoring stood there deliberating for a minute before finally pocketing the stone. Amarie turned her attention to the drinks in front of her. Five bottles of alcohol might be enough to get her tipsy, but she wasn't sure. Alcohol hadn't really affected her much in a long time. But still, she was desperate for some form of relief from the insanity of the Family. As she was finishing her third bottle, she heard a commotion on the other side of the room. "It's the same dream over and over again. You think that's normal? It's evil I tell you!" Amarie sighed. So much for peace and quiet. The alcohol hasn't helped much, but no surprises there.
"Everyone, please. I'm doing what I can to end these nightmares. In the meantime all I ask is you remain strong and put your trust in Lady Mara," a dark elf said, trying to placate the nervous crowd gathered. Wait, end the nightmares?
"Whats this about ending the nightmares," Amarie asked, walking over to where the group was gathered.
"As I was saying, I'm am working on a solution, but in the meantime keep calm and trust the Divines to guide us through this," the elf sighed, clearly tired of giving the same answer repeatedly.
"The gods rarely interfere in the affairs of mortals, so I doubt they will help now. Fortunately, you have walking divine intervention right here, offering her aid, so what do you need done?"
"Walking divine intervention? Who do you think you are," the priest spat, clearly less than amused at Amarie's description of herself.
"Amarie of House Telvani, slayer of Alduin and Dragonborn extraordinaire, at your service," Amarie replied with a flourish and bow.
That shut him up. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally coming up with a response. "Oh. Well I suppose you might actually be of assistance. I need to return to Nightcrawler Temple. I believe these nightmares are being caused by Vaermina, who used to have a following based there."
"Excellent. I'll be back in about half an hour. I just need to go get my gear from my place."
"Great. That will give me time to prepare and finish placating the rest of the town who wanders in here."
A half hour later a decidedly different Amarie made her back to the tavern. Gone was Amarie, bar patron and generous tipper, dressed in naught but simple traveler's clothes. In her place was Amarie, Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, slayer of Alduin,and knife enthusiast. 4 knives sat at her waist, with an additional 4 hidden in her boots and gauntlets. Combined with her Nightingale armor, divine bow on her back and dragon priest mask, she was the walking image of not to be trifled with.
"Let's go, priest," Amarie bit out, eager to be done with the source of the nightmares.
"I do have a name you know," the priest replied, turning to lead the way.
"I do apologize. I haven't slept well in a long time. What is your name?"
"Erundir, priest of Mara. You said your name was Amarie, correct?"
"Correct. So, what should I expect at this temple?"
"Years ago, the temple was raided by an orc war party seeking revenge... they were being plagued by nightmares just like the people of Dawnstar."
"I take it they were successful?"
"No. Knowing they could never defeat the orcs, the priests of Vaermina released what they call 'The Miasma,' putting everyone to sleep."
"That doesn't sound so bad."
"Oh, it was. The Miasma was created by the priests of Vaermina for their rituals. It's a gas that places the affected in a deep sleep. Because the rituals would last for months or even years, the Miasma was designed to slow down the aging process."
"Still not seeing the issue"
"I'm concerned that when this place is unsealed, the Miasma will dissipate and they'll awaken; both orcs and priests alike. The longer an individual is exposed to the Miasma, the more the mind can become damaged. Those who've been under the effect of it for extended periods of time have been known to lose their minds entirely. In some cases, a few never awoke at all. With those in the temple having been immersed in the Miasma for decades, few, if any, are likely to still be sane."
"So we will likely be facing a tower full of insane bandits and priests. Sounds like fun.", Amarie replied, her bloodthirsty grin hidden behind her mask.
"Well at least one of us will enjoy this," Erundir muttered as they strode into the temple.
While the outside gave the impression of a large fortress, the inside was a single solitary room, dilapidated and clearly unused for many years. Broken benches were strewn about haphazardly, books scattered about throughout. A large carved mural decorated the far wall, depicting a woman with twin snakes holding a ram skull.
"Cheery," remarked Amarie, taking in the room. "I assume there is more to this temple than just this room?"
"Beyond that wall is what remains of Vaermina's temple," Erundir replied, gesturing to the mural wall. "I had attempted to establish a shrine to Lady Mara here, hoping to limit Vaermina's influence. The presence of that mural shows how effective that was. Now if you'll just give me a moment, i can break the seal and we can continue on our way to the source of the nightmares."
"By all means," Amarie said, waving her hand, eager to be done with this so she could catch up on her missing week of sleep.
A quick prayer and a spell later, there was a door shaped hole in the mural, with stairs heading down into to the temple. "Let's go," Erundir staid, already walking down the stairs. At the end of the stairwell was a balcony, overlooking the main chamber two or three levels below them. At its center before a large statue was a ram-skull staff, radiating magika.
"Behold, the Skull of Corruption and the source of Dawnstar's nightmares," Erundir said, gesturing to the staff. "The priests of Vaermina would use the Skull in rituals and offer up nightmares for their Lord. I suspect that with its lack of use in these past decades its influence has spread, seeking out nightmares to feed on, resulting in the current situation we are here to resolve."
"So we destroy that thing and I'll finally be able to get some sleep?" Amarie asked, voice eager.
"I suspect so, yes. Keep in mind though that nothing is ever certain when dealing with Daedric Lords. For all we know it could make the problem worse. But destroying it is the only option before us, short of moving the whole town."
"Then let's go," said Amarie, turning to head down the stairs and further into the temple. At the end of the next landing they found their way blocked by a wall of magic.
"Great, a decades old ward. Why is nothing ever simple?" Amarie bit out, quickly losing what little patience she had left.
"Wouldn't it be incredibly weak then, if its decades old?" Erundir asked, coming up behind her.
"One would think so, but no, quite the opposite in fact. Had this been made in the previous Era you may have been right, but the near the beginning of the 4th era a mage developed a permanent ward that grew stronger with age. Of course the catch was you needed a soul gem to anchor it to. It was actually a little ingenious the way they work. Any latent magic in the area gets absorbed by the gem and used to power the barrier, and any magic that is used to try to tear it down in fact strengthens it." Amarie explained, sitting on the floor and sifting through her bag for something.
"So how do we get past it. Can we?"
"Ironically, by strengthening it. If you put too much magic into it in too short amount of time, the soul gem powering it overloads and explodes, taking the barrier with it. The issue being it takes roughly six times the amount of magic powering the barrier to overload it. And if the priests who ran this temple are as paranoid as they seem, they used a grand soul gem." Amarie stood up, having pulled six grand soul gems from her bag. "Unless you have an easier way that doesn't involve using obscene amounts of magic and risking magika burn?" Amarie asked, looking at Erundir hopefully.
"Perhaps, I have heard the priests of Vaermina would perform a ritual called the Dreamstride, which could transport the person great distances in the blink of an eye, with little consideration for barriers between the two points. But I am unsure on the specifics. There should be a library near by which would have details on the ritual."
"How do you know so much about this place? And the practices of the cult? General knowledge of each would be explainable, but you know exactly where the library is, rituals the priests here took part in, when this place fell. In short you know too much for a simple priest of Mara. So talk." Amarie demanded, suspicious of how well Erundir knew this place.
"I suppose keeping it a secret is pointless by now. I was once a priest in this temple, but when the orcs attacked, instead of staying a sleeping with the Miasma, I ran, fearing to go into a sleep where sanity wasn't guaranteed upon waking." Erundir explained, looking slightly ashamed of himself.
Amarie considered him for a moment. "I understand. I wouldn't want to risk a fifty year nap to wake up insane. Let's see what this Dreamstride entails. I really don't want to risk getting magika burn from six grand soul gems at once."
As they walked into the library, Erundir tripped, knocking over an old candle stand.
"Who goes there?! The invaders are still here!"
"Down with Vaermina!"
Amarie rolled her eyes. "Nice work. Stay there while I take care of these people," she said, drawing two of her daggers. She ripped through priest and orc alike, glad to have something to finally take her frustrations out on. It was over far too soon for her.
"So what are we looking for?" She asked as she wiped her blades on the nearest priest.
"We're looking for a book called The Dreamstride. It should be somewhere in the room here. It should have a picture similar to the mural we saw on its cover."
"Like this one," Amarie asked, holding up a book.
"That was fast. Here let me see it," Erundir requested, holding his hand out.
Amarie handed to book over, leaving Erundir to read it while she looked for other books to add to her collection. Finding a few that piqued her interest, she stuck them in her pack, planning on reading them at a later time when she wasn't in a temple full of insane and psychotic sleeping people.
"Ah ha!" Erundir exlaimed, having apparently found what he was looking for. "The Dreamstride can indeed be used to get past the barrier, but I am unable to participate. The Dreamstride begins by drinking a potion known as Vaermina's Torpor, but it only works for Her priests, or the unaffiliated. As a sworn Priest of Mara, it won't work for me. You would need to use the Dreamstride to get past the barrier and deactivate it from the other side."
Amarie's eyes narrowed. "So to be perfectly clear, if you have sworn allegiance to someone other than Vaermina, the Dreamstride won't work."
"That is correct. Will-" Erundir was cut off as a string of profanity burst forth from Amarie.
"Bastard son of a two septim whore! Nothing is ever simple is it!" She shouted, kicking at some debris on the ground before storming back towards the barrier, pulling out the soul gems she had grabbed earlier. "Do you even know how much this is going to hurt! Fucking Nocturnal and fucking Vaermina and fucking Skull and fucking bastard Princes"
Erundir ran to catch up, concerned about his companion's sudden outburst, but unwilling to interrupt her for fear of that anger being turned toward him. He found Amarie standing before the barrier, the six grand soul gems floating around her. Suddenly a line of fmagic was formed between her and each of the soul gems. As the soul gems began to glow brighter she began to make gestures with her hands before pointing at the barrier. A large bolt of magic struck the barrier, shattering it before a smaller bolt of magic was sent back at Amarie, striking her straight in the chest, as she cried out in pain, before dropping to her knees.
Erundir ran up to her, looking for wounds or some other way he could help. "What was that," he asked, having never seen something like it before.
"Magika burn. Or magika backlash if you prefer. If you put more energy than is required to break a spell the excess is returned to the caster, and it almost always hurts like a bitch. Now if you'll excuse me, there are people down there who are in desperate need of more holes in their bodies."
Erundir blinked at the empty spot Amarie had just occupied. He hadn't seen the telltale flash of magic for invisibility, or seen her run off. Then he heard the screaming begin from down the stairs. He ran down the stairs, intending to help Amarie and possibly save her life. Instead what he found was the sight of a slaughter. Broken bodies were strewn throughout the room. A priest here with her head facing the wrong way, an orc there with his detached arm jammed into his stomach. The sight made Erundir loose whatever food had been in his stomach. He continued into the temple, eyes upward to avoid seeing any more of Amarie's handiwork. Not that it helped much, there was plenty of blood splatter on the ceiling . He finally reached the main chamber to find Amarie leaning against the wall eyes closed and covered in blood, but otherwise unharmed.
"Was it really necessary to be that brutal?" Erundir asked shocked at the utter disregard for life the woman before him appeared to be displaying.
"Probably not, but between the lack of sleep making me cranky and the backlash pissing me off, somebody was going to get hurt. They just happened to be at hand." Amarie replied with a shrug. "Shall we? The sooner that Skull is destroyed the sooner we can leave this place and you can never see me or my bloody work again."
"Yes, lets." Erundir replied, moving before the Skull and beginning his ritual.
Amarie heard a whisper, "He's deceiving you. When the ritual's complete, the Skull will be free and then Erandur will turn on you."
Amarie snorted. "Let him try. It will be his funeral."
"Quickly! Kill him now. Kill him and claim the Skull for your own! Vaermina commands you!" The voice demanded.
"Well Vaermina, I command you to go clean dragon teeth!"
In that moment several things happened at once. Vaermina began to pour some of Her power into the Skull. Erundir's ritual came to an end. And the the room exploded in a shower of purple, black, and green.