So, apparently I'm still alive. Imagine that.
While I could certainly write about my transition from university life to job life (gotta earn those munies for new laptop), the excuses is definitely not what you are looking for. That would be more chapters. Hopefully, now that things have calmed down on my end, we won't have to experience another blackout for six months.
I'm still waiting for those assassins, mind you. My double is getting restless.
coduss - I dunno, Pelinal was a robot who was sent back into the past to alter the future. I think he is just as awesome as Reman.
DiscriminateTheOlea - At last, a purely offensive comment, this story finally become another normal part of a statistic. Just so you know, I do proofread my own work. Sadly, there's only so much I can do when English isn't even my first language, which is the only reason I was looking for a proofreader in the first place. Some mistakes the author simply doesn't notice just because he doesn't know they are mistakes in the first place, that's why the job of a proofreader came to be. At this point I also pretty much don't even search for a new one, I did so back when my update schedule was somewhat decent (not that I see how that would really matter - more time between updates means more time for proofreader to do his own thing), at this point I complain just because I can. Sincerly, Logic's a Bitch.
Guest - No arguing with that, House questlines aren't interesting. It's just... I really do not like it when storyline is completely devoid of realism. You don't just instantly become the key to stopping the bad guy, you need time and boring, gruelling work so that the end result is worth it. One of the reasons I dislike Skyrim - in every single questline you almost right away become "the choosen one" to almost every npc of the faction. We are hired to kill an Emperor? Sure, let's give the task entirely to the newbie simply because a disembodied voice told him so. The reason so many people like the Dark Brotherhood questline in Oblivion is because so far it is the best balance of struggling to prove the worth of main character and telling an epic tale. Outside of this very few canon questlines get it just right. Not even in Morrowind. In the end though I would rather have mostly consistent questline with but a few highlights than anime level of illogical storytelling. To each their own, I guess.
Guest - sigh... I wouldn't be surprised.
GameJunkie7 - Actually, Roth IS overpowered. The strongest warrior of Erabenimsun, tribe well known for great fighters, got squashed even though Ted wasn't playing dirty. With the exception of ash vampires, Dagoth Ur and Tribunal he is the toughest cookie on Vvardenfell. He simply doesn't appear overpowered since Rotheimaak himself isn't confident of his skills and so he rarely solves problems with force alone.
TheSparkleFoxAuthor - It's getting kind of difficult to insert him at this stage - right now he is supposed to hang out around Urshilaku camp and meditate, so that he can pull of a convincing act of a sage when it comes to Thu'um. I think he will be in the next chapter, though.
mk0008 - Unless Azirra will ever happen to stumble upon him, it is unlikely he will make a second appearance - Ted certainly doesn't have any reason to visit him again anytime soon.
Some Guy In An Ambulance - I'm pretty sure at this point Caius already knows about the dragon. Since he is a Blade it isn't exactly strange for him to know they aren't a myth at all. Let's not forget there's actually already one canon dragon in Morrowind and he most certainly knows it. Poor guy probably just didn't want to appear like a madman by talking about dragons over Ald'ruhn.
This is so stupid, thought Azirra as she crossed the gap intentionally left in the walls surrounding Ald'ruhn. She felt the gaze of numerous guards on her back. This is completely stupid.
At this moment none of her associates would recognize her. Better, no one would even be able to tell she was a Khajiit except maybe for her brethren. Her entire body with the exception of the face was shrouded by a dark grey cloak and on the head she was wearing a strange helmet that, she was pretty sure of it, was partially made from some abomination's skull, with two oversized tusks sticking out where the mouth should be. In her right hand rested a long staff, one crude and gnarly enough to be mistaken for a tree branch.
Dunmers once more surprised her by the lack of reaction other than glares of suspicion. If someone dressed like her tried to enter through the gates of Kvatch, they would be immediately chased out on a well founded belief that someone like that is definitely up to no good. The 'I'm going to resurrect all corpses on your cemetery' or 'I wanna open the gate to Oblivion' level of no good. But here, in Ald'ruhn? No problem, we have wretched witches drinking at our bars every few days, come in. Just don't cause trouble or you will regret it.
The fact is that the locals actually loved it when some scum showed up to liven up the place. As it was House Redoran's seat of power, the city was filled with all manners of warriors and combatants. Why did they build a city in an ash covered desert, in a shadow of dreaded Red Mountain? Azirra finally found an answer - it wasn't the presence of a shrine, they just wanted to be challenged. When you started a brawl here, you could bet your arm that half of the district would soon join in. When in some forgotten hamlet in Skyrim you shot a chicken, you should expect a tough fight with some of the villagers and a crapton of guards. As no one owned something as ordinary as chicken in Ald'ruhn, it was impossible to say what would happen if you did the same here, however Azirra had an unsettling thought of Vivec suddenly appearing to smite the criminal so badly the legendary giants of Skyrim would turn green from envy.
By the way, did I mention that pretty soon she was supposed to pick a fight with a regiment of guards?
At this point Azirra reach the top of small stairs leading to a higher area of the city, which had a number of shops and, most noticeable of all, the Skaar. It was the first time she saw it in person from so close. She felt her jaw hit the bottom part of her bony helmet.
If you live in any area of Tamriel that has an access to a body of water, you definitely know of the plague known as the mudcrabs. Those persistent and annoying pests rank as the fourth biggest reason the tourism never become a profitable business, right after the bandits, slaughterfishes and bloated, citizen-unfriendly bureaucracy of the Empire. They are however nothing compared to the legendary Emperor Crabs, which were easily one of the biggest animals of all times. How big they were? Well... how about big enough that its shell served as a separate district of Ald'ruhn?
Yes, that's right. No one knew just why such a massive creature decided to leave the depths of the sea and walk one third of Vvardenfell's length to finally stop in the shadow of Red Mountain. If you believe the storytellers of House Redoran, there was even some sort of epic fight with the huge creature. Now inside its empty shell one could find the main hall of Redoran, several highly successful businesses and manors of all councilors of this House.
All but one.
After the shock of seeing a crab meat lover's wet dream wore off, Azirra turned right, to the more spacious area on the side of the Skaar. It wasn't difficult to find the manor - besides the increased size it also was further away from other buildings and had a shimmering barrier placed on the door. Her eyes wandered over to the group of guards standing nearby. One person stood out amongst them.
You, old man, have a good taste in a weapon of choice, thought the masked agent at the sight of a bizarre 'spear' in the hand of the only man without bonemold armor, who was instead dressed in a set of robes. His weapon could be only called a spear if one believed that placing a soulgem on the tip of a staff was good enough. Still, it looked mystical and fancy. Although Azirra was actually below average (for a Khajiit) when it comes to kleptomania, she still felt a pang of disappointment that she wouldn't be able to get her hands on it.
The agent reached into her robe, pulled out two small vials and downed one of them.
Ugh, it tastes like wax...
Before you ask: no, we won't tell the unfortunate episode that resulted in Azirra becoming fully aware of how wax tastes. Let's just say it involved two fellow beggars, a cellar, a crate full of lettuce and a group of angry guards. Fourth wall or not, I'm not risking bringing Nerevarine's wrath upon myself by bringing up that shameful night.
Azirra took a deep breath. Here we go.
Khajiit casually walked up to the group of guards, which immediately become more alert at her proximity. She stopped several meters away from them.
"Greetings to you, followers of the false gods," started Azirra in her best imitation of female Dunmer's voice. In her opinion it was awful. "Here, have a taste of power of the real ones."
A second vial hit the ground and a cloud of lavender smoke hit everyone nearby. It was lavender in color, not smell - which was like that of a pit of rotting corpses. Even Azirra, with her heavily perfumed helmet, felt like chopping off her nose. When some of the enemies, including the mage, dropped to the ground, she wondered if tossing the fireball at them would be indeed more cruel solution. As soon as the staff with the soulgem left the sorcerer's hand, the magical barrier blocking the entrance to the mansion disappeared.
Azirra crouched slightly as the guards that managed to make a successful save vs spell rushed her.
She was slightly sceptic when fellow Blade told her of the potion she was given for this mission, but she had to admit the results were astonishing. Never again would she write off the alchemist from Vivec that Gildan bought it from. It was made to drastically increase one's ability to jump and was apparently a better alternative to the Scroll of Hoptoad... or something like that. And hopped she did - just one jump got her out of guards immediate reach and on top of a smithy. She grinned under her helmet, wider than even she thought she could.
While this entire plan was stupid and dangerous, she had to admit the looks on everyone's faces made it worth it. Azirra valued her survival much more than some laugh at others' expense, but in the heart of every Khajiit was that irrational desire to make fools of everyone else, much like ordinary cats. Most of her race simply went with the flow and expressed it in a bit of chaos in their everyday lives, although there were exceptions like Azirra, who instead ignored it until inborn desire for some mayhem exploded on its own. There are many differences between races of Tamriel and not just physical or magical ones.
So please, don't blame Azirra for laughing in an over the top way before throwing a ball of magically conjured poison at the crowd of law officers below, who promptly scattered. At the edge of her vision she noticed the door of the mansion opening by itself only to shut immediately. She struck a dramatic pose while pulling out a scroll at the same time.
"By lord Sheogorath's well trimmed beard, taste the fury of Dementia!" She opened the scroll with the intention of summoning a group of extremely annoying scamps and...
...Uh oh. She hesitated as she saw a line of daedric letters, with the meaning behind them completely eluding her. I knew I forgot about something.
She stood there for a moment with a scroll unrolled and absolutely no idea what to do, when out of nowhere something flew right in front of her face. She stumbled back, while also noticing a brand new hole in the parchment. She dropped the scroll and scowled at the sight of an archer in the street below preparing another arrow.
With an ungodly screech the witch turned tail and jumped away, not ready to face more violent side of the law. She didn't have intentions of picking a real fight in the first place, just causing distraction big enough to let her partner in crime get to the mansion.
Quick, Azirra, think! You need a way to escape the guards! You can't summon scamps to slow them down and teleporting away with Divine Intervention is not an option either since that too requires reading a scroll... She landed on a roof of some tavern in the lower district of the city, but still not far enough to loose sight of the pursuers. I can't outran them even with the potion, the silt strider is out of the question, hiding in Gildan's house would compromise her, uh...
"Eeeek!"
The audible and rather embarrassing conclusion of her inner monologue was caused by the fact that the potion she used had worn off right as she tried to jump from the roof of the Mages Guild to the one of the Fighters Guild, causing her to make a very much average leap that ended with her landing face first, fortunately not with enough strength to give her more than a possible concussion. As she lacked time to take it easy, she stood up immediately and just as fast the vertigo almost made her fall again. She used the door to bring herself back to her feet.
Ugh, at least there are no guards here right now... but not for long. I must, I must... Wait a second. Mages Guild?
An idea struck her.
Everyone is away at Archmage's place.
She opened the door hastily and doubt hit her as soon as she noticed the interior. It involved a certain male Khajiit with a blood covered sword, an even more bloodied Breton on the floor and a small stash of valuables that was right now being picked up by the killer.
"Err..." said Dar'shanji hesitantly. "This one can explain?"
They just stared at each other for a moment, Azirra too shocked to do anything and he hesitant to attack someone that could easily ran away into the street while screaming about the murder.
The clanking of armor that slowly reached them with increasing volume made the decision for the mage and she slowly closed the door behind her, never for a moment taking her eyes off the thief, who looked just about ready to give in to fight-or-flight instinct, something that could doom her no matter what he picked. Dar'shanji was definitely more dangerous than her at such close distance and him running out of the building would alert the guards outside and probably make them check inside.
To her horror he came up with the course of action faster than her and it was one she liked the least.
"Gods damn it, Dar'shanji!" she screamed as the sword cut through the place in which just a second ago was her head. "Stop it, you idiot, it's me!"
It appeared that the other Khajiit fortunately recognized her somewhat muffled voice.
"...Azirra? What are you...?"
"Not now, we must hurry!" The mage looked with panic at the corpse behind the thief. "We can't stay here like that, sooner or later the guards will enter with hope of someone seeing me..." Her breathing got faster. "Even if I manage to change clothes and you somehow hide the body, there will be no way to hide the blood..." Her tail started to twitch erratically, mirroring her mental state. "If I change and we just walk out as if nothing happened, then once the body is found we will be hunted down and..."
Dar'shanji sighed, reached into one of his pockets and pulled out two vials, which he proceeded to shake in front of her face. She blinked.
"Invisibility potions?"
"Invisibility potions. We have only ten seconds, so make it count."
"You owe me one potion, just so we're clear," stated the thief as he collapsed at a table in the back room of Rat in the Pot.
"I wouldn't need to use it in the first place if you weren't killing someone in there when I entered to just remove disguise. It's all on you." Still catching breath after a mad dash from the crime scene to the safety of the Thieves Guild's safehouse, Azirra struggled to take off the boney mask. It definitely was designed for someone whose nose was separated from mouth. "Also, you almost took off my head."
"...Fine, so be it." He slammed his forehead on the table. "Dammit, why did something like that had to happen again? First that noble in Balmora, now this..."
"Sounds like someone is losing his touch," grumbled the woman, still not quite ready to forgive him. "Either that or the guild changed its policies about not killing witnesses."
"It wasn't me, he was the one to first pull out a dagger!"
"...Yes, maybe, but I was talking about ME, you bastard!"
"I said I was sorry!"
"Oh, don't worry, it's not much, really... My life is merely the only truly valuable thing I have, no reason to feel bad." The glare she pierced him with was only marginally less deadly than an actual blade. "You can easily make it up to me, I only need an additional head. In case, you know, some another psycho tries to cut off the one I already have."
"Enough with the sass already!"
"Stop with all the screaming you two," commanded a Bosmer standing next to the stairs. "Just because it's our base it doesn't mean you can scream about our job as much as you want, there's a tavern above us! Now, Dar'shanji, I take it was a failure?"
"...Sort of. I have what you asked for, but some mage spotted me on my way out, even though you said there wouldn't be anyone. Had to kill him, he jumped me with spells and a dagger."
"By Nocturnal, they knew what we were planning to do again? They must have some sort of informant, there's no other option..." The local boss sighed. "Alright, if it was him who started and he cut off the retreat, then I guess I can let you off the hook, but please, don't make it a regular thing. Looks like we won't risk anymore jobs with Mages Guild anytime soon."
"Speaking of the Guild," started Dar'shanji, looking at the agent. "Just what were you doing there dressed like that?"
"It's nothing, just... needed a place to loose guards."
"And... why were they chasing you?"
The first answer he got was another glare.
"It's not really your business... but if you must know, I pranked them."
The Khajiit's brows, usually unnoticeable due to him being entirely covered with fur, reminded the world that yes, they were still there and yes, they could still rise at any strange comment.
"Pranked?"
Azirra looked away, once more happy that the same fur that masked brows could also hide blushing.
"...I dressed up as an Ashlander witch, gave them a stupid speech about false gods and threw a stink-bomb at them."
Dar'shanji blinked once, twice and then finally again dropped on the table, laughing his tail off. Azirra hissed in annoyance, with her face still uncomfortably hot.
"Shut it."
"How was it?" questioned Azirra as soon as the door closed behind Gildan.
"More dangerous, but also faster than what you did from what I heard," stated the older agent. "Just grabbed the item and teleported with a scroll. Had to stay out a bit longer though so that no one would get suspicious. What I wonder about is why you didn't use the scrolls?"
"...I decided that I can do just fine without them, which I did, and that I should save the scrolls for when I really need them." Yep. That's totally what happened. No ma'am, it's definitely not because I forgot I can't read daedric.
"Suit yourself, I did say you can use them however you want." Gildan placed a sack on the table and sat on a stool next to Azirra. "No problems on your end? I only saw the beginning."
"None from the guards themselves, I lost them."
"So something did happen?"
"Kind of. It's sorted out now though, so no worries." Khajiit focused on the elephant in the room, a sack containing a dangerous cursed item created by the priests of an evil god. "Can I see it? Just curious."
The other Blade saw no reason to object.
It was an ugly, little thing, a bit bigger than her hand and made from what she guessed to be a red clay, painted gray in a few spots. It slightly resembled a tiny sarcophagus.
"Are you sure this is it? As far as I know, and I should given that I'm a mage," Never mind that is the case only for the last week or so. "...all enchanted items should have a sort of shine to them and that is not the case here."
"Whatever Dagoth does to create corprus beasts hardly counts as ordinary magic. Wizards studying the subject are completely stumped at just how it works. My guess is that it's part sorcery, part divine power. Either way many rules are blurry when he is involved." Gildan packed the idol and stood up. "I should get going. Since the thing somehow attracts those spawns, I better bring it to the expert I found, I don't want them to end up at my house just because of being tardy."
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
"...right, sorry. It slipped my mind. Here you go."
With a smile Azirra accepted a spellbook. It contained a spell that just this morning she was convinced was overrated, but now she knew better - it was after all the same spell that inspired that alchemist from Vivec to make a potion that allowed her to escape the guards.
"Now, I know it's pretty good, but don't get too excited yet. Tinur's Hoptoad isn't as potent as the potion you had earlier," warned her Gildan.
"No prrroblem," answered Azirra, surprising herself at the not so subtle purring. "It will be very useful to me in the future."
After taking a walk in the market district (this time without any disguise) and selling off whatever loot from the slave den of Hinnabi she didn't yet sell back at Balmora, Azirra returned to her rented room at the Rat in the Pot. After closing the door behind her she dumped on the bed the content of her backpack. Now that it was all visible it made her realize it was easily the most she ever owned, even if you forgot about a rather sizable pile of coins.
Not sizeable enough though, she thought grimly.
Azirra wasn't greedy, in fact she would be quite happy as long as she had food, clothes and a roof over her head that wasn't in danger of falling on said head - that alone would be more than she was used to and was a reason why she actually didn't complain all that much about the prison, as it provided all three. What Azirra wanted above anything else was safety. That sadly meant that she had to invest a lot just so she won't put herself at too much risk doing her jobs. So far she didn't have to do much for the Mages Guild and she could decide whether or not she wanted to perform a specific task, but Caius would happily send her to the other end of Vvardenfell if the mission required it.
At this point she had around two thousand and three hundred septims. A single teleportation between two guild halls costed forty septims, including the membership discount. For this much one could sustain themselves almost a week. In other words it should be used regularly only by those with high, stable income and Azirra's income was anything but stable (not to mention a large part of it came from illegally selling loot from that Dwemer ruin). An hour earlier she spoke with the Dunmer owning a silt strider and compared the prices. There was no union for them or anything and that meant it could vary greatly depending on the distance (which was not a problem with teleportation) and how much the Dunmer would hate a Khajiit, which is definitely not the factor one could ignore. Still, it should be generally cheaper than teleporting all over the island, with the exception of the trip to the east coast, as the price for crossing the dangerous wasteland in-between was huge. For those reasons Azirra decided to reach Vivec via silt strider tomorrow - she already made an arrangement and even convinced the caravaner to make a short stop at Caldera - a mining town halfway between Ald'ruhn and Balmora in which very recently a new guild hall was opened. It was mostly to say hi, introduce herself, maybe check what they had in terms of tasks, possibly even find out how they stand politically, so that she would be closer to completing Caius' objective.
There were five guild halls at Vvardenfell - in Vivec, Balmora, Ald'ruhn, Caldera and Sadrith Mora. Ajira was nice enough to fill her in on what to expect.
Azirra already had a pretty solid opinion of the subject of Ranis Athrys leading their chapter in Balmora as well as the Archmage. The first one was a strict, sour woman that experienced too much difficulties in life and was incapable of forgiving anyone that wronged her. Trebonius was... well, a fool at best and brainless idiot at worst, with a side dish of minor case of insanity. She couldn't tell for sure with how short they talked, but Edwinna appeared to be a scholar with no interest in politics, but upset at how things were going in that area. With one competent leader out of three the situation at the Mages Guild didn't look great. She could only hope the other two were better.
Folms Mirel, the leader of their Caldera branch, sounded more like a hardworking manager rather than mystical wizard. His guild hall wasn't truly operational just yet - while some mages there offered training and trade goods, there's little in terms of tasks except for some big project Mirel is working on. More than that, from what she was told there were some problems with preparing the building itself, although she would have to check herself what it was all about, as Ajira wasn't sure either. Overall it seemed like that branch isn't very important just yet (some even say it's obsolete, as it is between two much bigger guild halls, those in Ald'ruhn and Balmora), nor would they cause much trouble, as they themselves still aren't very organized. Azirra was the most worried about the other remaining chapter, the one in Sadrith Mora - it worked after all in the very heart of Telvanni seat of power on Vvardenfell. Furthermore, its leader was an Argonian. It was as if someone intentionally tried to make the House hostile just by forcing them to cooperate with a member of a race they most despised. Was there truly no one else for that spot? It's not that she believed Skink-in-Tree's-Shade to be incompetent - she just found it hard to believe Telvanni wouldn't antagonize anyone in that position who wasn't an elf. Fortunately it was a worry for another day and for another Azirra. One that wasn't sleepy.
The next two days were a bit slow, with hardly anything being done - with teleportation she could jump from city to city instantly and quickly complete her objectives, but that was no longer the case. Traveling via siltstrider was... an interesting experience. Let's end it at that. It wasn't exactly bad, however sitting on top of a massive flea wasn't Azirra's favourite way of traveling. It was time consuming too - it took half a day just to get to Vivec. Granted, she did make a stop at Caldera, but still.
Speaking of Caldera - much like with Pelagiad, for a moment she felt as if she was back in Cyrodill. There was not a single thing about the small town that would suggest it was in the land of the Dunmer. The place wasn't anything special - beyond the inn and a few small shops the only place of any interest to her was the guild hall. Apparently it was supposed to be a place where Guild's researchers could study in peace, away from the problems of big cities. Now the location made more sense.
At the first look everything inside looked neat and tidy... And yet, as she climbed upstairs to find this Folms Mirel, there was some not quite formed thought, that there was something weird about all of this.
Only after a few sentences exchanged with Folms it become clear - some serious mistakes took place when the hall was still at the phase of plans. In this particular instance the Archmage made a particularly spectacular miscalculation, one that made Azirra realize that her former evaluation of Trebonius didn't really reflect his idiocy.
That moron didn't tell the architect that mages were meant to live at the hall, much like at any other hall despite it's different purpose. There was no sleeping area.
"It's not so bad," claimed Mirel. "After I finally managed to get a meeting with Trebonius, he had no choice but to accept the blame and fund our sleeping arrangements at the inn. Still, that only made our Morrowind branch even more of a joke in other provinces."
Mirel was very similar to Edwinna Elbert in terms of goals - above anything else he wanted the results in his research and he couldn't care less about the politics of the Guild. Their fields of study were completely different, however - while Edwinna focused on Dwemers, Mirel studied his ancestors, giving a lot of attention in particular to the ancient strongholds scattered across the island.
According to him in mostly forgotten times, when there were no proper cities on Vvardenfell, the Chimer, the direct ancestors to the Dunmer people, were instead living in large fortresses, which were all connected via teleportation network. Said network was miraculously still active, even though the strongholds were long abandoned by the Houses and some of them now held very questionable residents. In each stronghold stood two runic propylons, which allowed to move to two other strongholds, as a result creating a path that allowed travel to each of them, with the exception of long lost Kogoruhn.
In order to use said network one needed propylon indices, which served as keys. If one had right index, they could use a propylon leading to said stronghold. The system wasn't very effective as a result - one needed almost all indices just to travel without worry of getting stuck before reaching the right stronghold. Their desolation and dangers also didn't make it a very trusty method of transport. As a result the network was hardly used by anyone, as very few people possessed any index, not to mention several of them.
Folms Mirel intended to bring back the network and make it an additional service performed by the Guild - as the strongholds were spread out across the island and often standing in distant places, they could serve as a wonderful shortcut for many travelers seeking less common destinations. He was certain that with all ten indices he could create a master index of sorts that would allow to travel to any stronghold, while the propylons themselves would be redirected to lead back to the guild hall, creating a system that wouldn't fail if just a single propylon was damaged and that would allow to bypass more unfriendly strongholds.
The number of objectives for Azirra to achieve in Vivec increased after their talk - apparently some mage noticed an index at the temple in St. Olms Plaza, but at the time didn't know what it was. Folms promised that if it was an index they didn't acquire just yet (as he already had a few people searching for them) and she were to deliver it to him, he would pay five hundred septims - a truly mind boggling payment if the task was as easy as it sounded. Not to mention that every person that delivered even one such object would receive a master index once the project was completed, thus allowing the usage of network without any fees.
And so, as Azirra finally arrived to the city of Vivec, she decided to head to St. Olms as soon as she acquired the book for Edwinna. As she expected, the Twin Lamps bookseller had what she wanted, although she couldn't help but wince at the price - since the book was of a kind that would attract only an expert in the subject, it's value was way bigger than that of common spell tomes.
What kind of crazy imperial funds does Elbert even have? Back in Kvatch this much money would be enough to keep me warm and fed through an entire winter!
Once she failed to barter with Jobasha for a discount ("Jobasha already included the discount! Do you want this one to go hungry, friend Azirra?"), she quickly found her way to the St. Olms canton, the plaza on the very top to be exact. After a short talk with an old priest (she made sure to pick one with the wrinkles that suggested he was actually capable of smiling) she discovered, to her disappointment, that someone else already took the index. Not a mage, though - just a fellow priest curious about the stone. One whose description sounded very familiar. For now it was pretty safe to assume that Remond Viralas, the oddly enthusiastic Dunmer she met twice before, had the index and probably didn't know its value. That was the good news.
The bad news was that according to a much less helpful priest at the library young acolyte recently went missing and it was already two days since anyone has seen him.
There was an even worse second bad news - he was last seen entering the sewers. Azirra silently said goodbye to her sense of smell.
Some people believe that a person is never truly dead until the effects of all its actions and presence fade into obscurity for those who are currently living. That line of thinking, however, is simply difficult to accept. Just ask Numinex, whose head is hanging over the throne room in Whiterun, and he will tell you just how not alive he feels. Oh wait, no, he won't. Because he is dead.
Anyway, if we will decide to accept that line of thinking for a moment, then you could say that a certain human-turned-dragon was about to gain eternal life, for he would be remembered by a truly unkillable being. Of course, that would happen for the price of losing his actual life, but hey, immortality in a song about the battle to death is a damn good ending according to most Nords.
In this particular song, however, Rotheimaak would unfortunately have a not very prestigious position of a hunted prey.
Then again, concluded his musings the hunter, those hunted by me always gain prestige just because I deemed them worthy of my involvement. The creatures, so far remaining hidden in the shadows, emerged at the call of their master. Even if sometimes, like in this case, their worth comes not from their actions, but from circumstances. The only dragon who shares the blood of both aedra and daedra...
There's only so far a pray can run before the hounds catch it. You came and left too quickly back then for me to act, but this time my hounds are ready. Such were the thoughts of Hircine, the daedric prince of the hunt, as he reached out to his servants in the wilds of Solstheim. He wanted to have that unique trophy... or at least that's what he kept telling himself.
Truth is, he just wanted his pets to kill Sheogorath's beast, much like the Mad God's killed his own in that poorly made bet that no one with more than just one working brain cell would mention anymore in the presence of Hircine.
Stupid bird...
It's a bit shorter this time, didn't find a really good spot to cut it later on. Also, if you have any good ideas for dragon troll to entertain himself in the middle of a wasteland, say so - lately I find myself at a loss what to do with Rotheimaak's half of the story until he meets with Azirra once more (excluding this little plot bunny above, which might not even kick in very soon). Until next time.