29 Frostfall, 3E426
With votes in hand I returned to Crassius Curio, who seemed mildly surprised that I had pulled it off. But he was ever his patronizing self and even went so far as to pat me on the head. Such a thing manages to anger me nearly as quick as pure aggression so once I'd gotten the belt that symbolizes my station wrapped around my waist I made for the cornerclub. I felt like I had earned a break for keeping my cool as well as I had with House Hlaalu.
While there I saw two rather downcast men toasting drink after drink together. Curious, I purchased my own and sat down beside them and listened as they reminisced about a mutual friend, slurred voices recanting tales of mercenary jobs and drunken exploits. So deep in their cups their toast almost missed and one nearly slipped from his stool, I heard them say in unison, 'May his ghost forgive us for what we had to do.'
"Pardon me, sera, but what happened to the man you both drink to?" I startled them a bit, not having noticed me sit down apparently. Corprus, they both replied so loudly that the rest of the tavern gave us odd glances. They then regaled me with a no-doubt embellished story about how the three of them had taken a job to take out a smuggler's den west of the city. But as soon as they reached the cave they were beset by a gaunt, deformed creature. While they had managed to kill it, it was too late for their companion, on whom the disease was already visibly spreading. In his agony he'd begged his friends to help him, and they did, in the only way they knew how.
The only other time I'd heard of a case of corprus that set in that fast was the Imperial Legion scout on the western coast, contracted directly from the Sixth House base hidden there. I asked what else they might have seen in there and they admitted they hadn't gotten far in, but described rows of candles that shone blood-red and a strange carving of a beetle. It all pointed at House Dagoth, and it was probably the same operation that Orvas Dren had been helping to run. The location they gave was unsettlingly close to Seyda Neen, so I decided my next order of business would be cleaning this place out.
I took my bottle on the road with me, setting out west and following the mercenaries' notes. Soon I could see a shoddy little dock with crates on it and a few empty rowboats. From there it was a simple matter of following the trail of plants trampled into the mud from their footsteps all the way to a little door poking out of the swamp. The odor inside the cave was unmistakable as the foul stench of corprus disease and everything was either crimson or blackness. I was in the right place.
There was little challenge to be had. Infected are too sluggish to be much of a threat to me particularly because I needn't fear being contaminated as I once did. There was some scrambling up rocks to be done, which I can say was quite frustrating in full armor, in order to reach the main shrine. Inside there I ran into the same hunched-over abominations from before, casting horrible spells and curses. But once that struggle was over I turned and saw a row of bells.
Oh, I had seen the bells in other shrines too, but never really had the thought at the time to inspect them. Tapping them produced a familiar tone... it was the same bells I was hearing in my nightmares. In anger I attempted to shatter them, but they are made of something stronger than my blade and all I managed to do was nearly deafen myself. When I closed my eyes in pain from the loud resonance I saw things... all quick flashes, but definable things nonetheless though I cannot identify them... places and people that I didn't recognize but felt very strongly that I should. A woman whose beauty defies words smiled at me lovingly. Then the images were gone, the sound dying down and I opened my eyes again.
In a bit of shock, I left the cleared-out cave and made camp just outside of it. It grows late and though my body is exhausted, my mind will not rest. That always makes sleep excessively difficult.
30 Frostfall, 3E426
A flipped coin has decided between Houses Redoran and Telvanni that Telvanni will be my next project. I can safely say I have no idea how well they will receive me. They're known for their unwillingness to involve themselves in anything of real political weight and don't take religion very seriously either, which simultaneously helps and hurts my chances. Their councilors are ancient, eccentric, and probably dangerous to boot.
So now it's back to picking my way across the desolate, mostly road-less southeastern region of Molag Amur to get to the Telvanni council seat of Sadith Mora. There is simply no adequate shelter to be seen and I fear being caught in an ashstorm while I'm sleeping so I've taken shelter in the arched doorway of a tomb... if things get bad, I can always retreat inside.
31 Frostfall, 3E426
Sadith Mora is the grandest Telvanni settlement I have seen yet. From a few towers a whole city is sprawled out beneath, every building grown right out of the ground and looking like miniature versions of their grand kin. Here I found a decently sized open-air market, a slave market, smiths and clothiers, merchants selling something for every imaginable need. I feel as if I was swindled right away, however, when I was told I needed something called 'Hospitality Papers' to even enter and trade in the city since I was not a member of House Telvanni. It was just a few coins, but it's the principle of such a thing that irks me.
The council house sat on the edge of the city and once I was done at the marketplace I made my way over there, a guide stopping me as I came inside. She asked my business and I explained that I was coming to House Telvanni in hopes that they would name me Hortator. She chuckled, but when I narrowed my eyes she apologized and said she meant no offense by it. Most Telvanni don't take the whole Nerevarine thing very seriously, calling it 'a bunch of absurd stories', but I was more than welcome to make my case. It didn't bother them either way.
I was led into a bizarre circular room surrounded by elevated platforms, a giant purple crystal humming with energy sitting in the center. On each of these stood a person in fine robes so at first I thought they were the councilors, but the guide explained it to me. Each of these was something called a Mouth, a person that speaks for the Telvanni wizards from their distant towers by means of complicated magicka. I asked my guide if they could see and hear what the Mouth experiences as well, to which she nodded.
I stepped forward, introduced myself and held up my ring-hand, asking that House Telvanni do me the honor of naming me Hortator so that I might make a stand against the Sixth House in the name of all of Vvardenfell's people. There was silence, while the Mouths all stared into the crystal, I assumed them to be receiving instructions. Then they turned to me again. All their stories were basically the same, their masters all wanting to assess me in person. I smiled in relief, I had worried greatly about being able to capture the attention of such aloof, strange people. The guide gave me a directory book much like the one I'd been given for Hlaalu and wished me luck with a smirk on her lips.
There are five in total, and one of them must be visited last, the Archmage Gothren, as his vote will only be given to me once the others are secured. One of the other four, Master Neloth, resides here in Sadith Mora. His tower sits at the center of the ring of other, smaller grown mushroom-houses, and was impossible to miss. Like other Telvanni towers there were no stairs, so I was thankful I'd visited the alchemist earlier for levitation potions.
Not even an hour had passed since I was at the council house but I had to actually remind Master Neloth who I was, and even then I wasn't sure he was paying attention, back turned to me and casting some kind of incantation on a vial of frost salts. "Oh yes," he finally said, "I remember now. I called you up here to tell you to your face." And only then did he finally look me in the eye, and only briefly, "No." He went back to his business without another word.
I pressed, asking him why not. He said the whole process was annoying and unnecessary. If it meant nothing to him he should just give me the title, I tried to argue, but he was done talking, simply gesturing at me now to go. Sighing, I flopped into a chair. I couldn't just leave, not like this. I touched my ring, trying to think, closing my eyes, hoping for the inspiration to come to me, but it just wouldn't. No, that eventually came from Neloth himself.
"Are you still here?" He sneered at me on his way over to a bookshelf, then muttering, "How annoying..." I perked up, a smile coming to my face that he didn't see, absorbed in whatever arcane project he was messing with. Annoying... that was it. I knew what I had to do.
I casually got up, stretched, and started pacing the floor, my armor making quite a racket in the near-silent laboratory. Only a fleeting glance from Neloth then, eyebrow raised. But I had only just begun. For my next target, I spotted a half-drank cup of tea sitting on a small table, still steaming with heat. I strode over and pretended to trip over my own foot, bumping the table hard with my hip and knocking the teacup to the floor where it shattered. He glared, but I played innocent, shrugging as if to say 'oops'. Oh, he was determined to ignore me now, I could hear him writing in his logbook furiously as he continued his experiment.
I saw his alchemy table, and went over to that, picking up and inspecting the ingredients and implements. I heard Neloth growl, and then footsteps, and he came over and snatched a scale out of my hand, slamming it back down in place so hard I'm surprised he didn't break it. "Will you get out of here!?" his voice was raised in irritation.
"Name me Hortator," I smiled. He turned and walked away from me, muttering that I'd have to leave sometime. I nodded. "But I can come back tomorrow," I said cheerily, saw him stop in his tracks, and just kept grinning when he looked at me over his shoulder. "And the day after that..."
Like a child having a tantrum he stormed to his desk, flipped his logbook to an empty page and ripped it out. The wizard took up his quill and wrote something on it furiously, then attempted to throw it at me... it merely fluttered to the floor but I ran over to pick it up nonetheless, reading it over. I tried not to laugh aloud at the words as I made my way out of his study, much to his relief I'm sure, and out the door.
As councilor of House Telvanni, I hereby give my vote for Hortator to the single most irritating person of any race I have ever met, Adarise Salvel. May she choke on it.
Signed, Master Neloth
