Ug, I haven't had much time to write with the start of term. I sort of ended this chapter with a ton of loose ends, but those will get wrapped up in the next chapter.

Okay, last chapter I meant to type "conceded" instead of "conceited". Problem solved, since I doubt a mask could have emotion enough to be arrogant.

Also, yes, a ton of bad Karma for Isa. It makes sense though, since joining a cult based on treachery, bloodshed and vengeance wouldn't appear to entail positive results.

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A Dunmer man was walking along the road from Balmora to Seyda Neen that evening. He donned a red beard and hair, shoulder-length and tied back with a band. He carried a netch whip in one hand and sported nothing more than something like a loincloth around his waist. At his side was a sack containing various alchemical ingredients and a mortar and pestle. By mere looks one could tell that this man was athletic, but he didn't have the size to denote his skill.

In actuality, he was an ex-member of the Comanna Tong. That very morning he had been expelled from the organization for failing to complete a job. His loyalties from then on were questioned, but having been a powerful member in the past he was saved from execution. Instead, he was stripped of nearly all of his possessions and then excommunicated. Other than being an assassin he also worked as a healer within the guild. He was called to Seyda Neen to cure someone holed up in Arrile's Tradehouse before their disease spread. Also, he had a chest with exquisite clothing and Dark Brotherhood armor buried under the swamp muck outside of town.

The silt-strider came into view as the man approached town. Instead of taking the road into town, he veered right and headed toward a large tree growing in the center of an algae-ridden, stagnant pool. The man tossed the mushrooms growing near the trunk of the tree aside and plunged his hands into the soft mud below the water. After some digging around his fingers scraped wood. A look of "Eureka!" spread on the mans face and he shoveled the mud faster, finally getting a decent grip on the handles of the chest. With little effort, the man carried the chest into town and stopped along the shore of the tradehouse. He washed himself and his armor before changing.

Sighing, he picked up his sack and headed into the tradehouse. The guards in town had been eyeing the man oddly due to his armor, so he thought getting a set of robes to cover himself would be a wise choice in the future.

"I'm glad a healer has finally showed up." Arrille said handing the man the red robes he had selected, "That woman upstairs is scaring off all of my business. But, I couldn't just chase her out on the streets. She's a pauper and has nowhere else to go."

"Well, hopefully I'll be able to cure whatever is ailing her." the man said.

His voice was pleasant and flowed like a diplomat's. Maybe he also worked as an orator within the guild, maybe he didn't. No one could really say they knew this redheaded stranger, and those that did know him certainly weren't talking, "What exactly does she have?"

"Ash-chancre." Arrille said nervously looking on his arms for signs of sores, "I swear, if I catch it from that woman I'll have her head. Do I look feverish?" Arrille asked the Dunmer, who just shook his head and made his way upstairs.

He entered the small room and nearly tripped over the bed. A small amount of light was coming into the room from a single grimy window and a candle on the bedside table. The man looked to the head of the bed and saw a forehead poking out from the covers. He reached out and pulled the covers back to find an olive-skinned Elf lying under them. A thin layer of sweat covered her brow and small sores were beginning to form on her face and shoulders. She opened her eyes at the sudden draft and nearly leapt back at the appearance of the stranger in her room.

"Who are you?!" she asked.

"You may call me Balabhas. I came here to cure you of your blight." The Dunmer said turning his face away.

Isa eyed the man with confusion, but then looked down at her naked torso. She gave a slight laugh, "It's okay, I'm not offended if you happen to ogle."

Balabhas instead turned his head toward his mortar and pestle as he measured out ash salts and scrib jelly.

"So," he began meekly, "How did you happen to get ash-chancre?"

"I was exploring a Sixth House base." Isa said. It wasn't entirely a lie, and it wouldn't reveal herself either.

"So, you're a bit of an adventurer then, um..."

"Isa."

"Right, Isa. Arrille said you came in looking like a pauper. Where is all of your armor, or your weapons?" Balabhas asked while transporting half of the paste to a loaned calcinator.

"I'm a mage." Isa lied. She didn't like how this man asked so many questions.

"Is that so? What type of mage?" he asked throwing willow anther and powdered emerald into the calcinator with the paste.

"I'm a monk."

"That's a highly unlikely profession for someone that likes to go risking their lives on a regular basis." Balabhas said with a wry smile while mixing shalk resin with the paste that remained in the mortar and pestle.

Isa looked thoughtfully at Balabhas as he worked. While pensive, she was also a bit indignant. Who was he, a complete stranger, to confront her, while sick, and have the audacity to be so bold? But then again, there was something about him that made her indignity a mere triviality. He seemed kind, polite, well-rounded... Oh no! Isa shook her head at her inane string of thoughts and decided to stare ahead of her.

"Why did you go into that Sixth House base anyway?" Balabhas asked, pulling both of them out of an uncomfortable silence that had lasted for a couple of minutes.

"I was going in search of the Robe of St. Roris." Isa said. She had never heard of the robe, but somehow the knowledge of it appeared in her head, "It's got healing powers you know."

"Yes, I've heard. Where is this base at?" Balabhas asked catching the vapors from the calcinator in a peach glass flask.

"It's southeast of here on a tiny island. There's a wooden door facing away from Seyda Neen, you can't miss it."

"I see... Well, I may have to check that out sometime." Balabhas said, and by "sometime" he meant when he was done concocting her potions.

Balabhas finished filling the flask and transported the paste to a small jar, "Drink this and apply this on the sores. You should be better by morning." He said pointing out the designated jars, smiling, as he left the room.

Completely ignoring Arrilles' cries of "Is she better?" Balabhas left the tradehouse and the small city. A small cave southeast of town... The knowledge of the Robe of St. Roris would have been a delightfully wonderful bit of information for any explorer, but Balabhas had other plans for it. If the famed robe could really restore life then he would use it to strike down those that expelled him from the Comanna Tong. The wounds their flimsy daggers and spells caused would be nothing after tapping into the magic of the robe. All within means of course.

Sure enough, the smallest island in the miniscule archipelago housed a wooden cavern door. Not knowing what to expect, Balabhas pulled the whip from his robes and uncoiled it. Instead of slowly inching his way into the cavern he flung the door open with a loud crack and strode into the cavern. He soon realized that with or without his commotion the Dreamer guarding the entrance would have noticed him.

It took little effort to acquire the spiked club from the Dreamer's hands. With a swipe of the club the scantily clothed Dunmer fell to the ground unconscious. Deciding that it would be a better idea to tackle this cavern prepared, Balabhas tried to open the wooden door from which he entered, but found that he was trapped.

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As soon as Balabhas left Arrille's Tradehouse the tattoo began to sizzle and pop. Dagoth Gilvoth had been monitoring the conversation between the Isa and Balabhas, and apparently Dagoth Ur was not pleased with Isa's thoughts. The job at Suran was placed in the hands of another, "more capable" member of the cult while Isa was told to report directly to Red Mountain. After downing the potion and applying some of the paste Isa clothed herself and jaunted to the silt-strider.

By the time Isa made it to Balmora night had fallen. With some apprehension, she passed Moonmoth and made her way north along the Foyada. Several cliff racers and other wildlife attacked her along the way, and had it not been dark she wouldn't have been so nervous. To top things off a violent ash storm had begun to thrash the craggy mountains near the Old Dwemer Bridge, making travel slow.

Of course, the piddling little ash storm she had walked through was nothing compared to the ferocity of Red Mountain. Isa had forgotten how horrible the winds were as she departed Citadel Dagoth few days earlier after her new agenda appeared. She had to squint as the crimson ash gathered in her hair and eyes. One premium was all of the Lesser Daedra and ash creatures wouldn't attack her now that she was in Ur's inner circle. On the other hand, the corprus monsters and other irritating beasts couldn't comprehend her artificial power.

Finally, after a difficult climb up the face of Red Mountain with only the help of Herreslakter (Isa had named her scimitar that shortly after the Gnisis incident) and small handholds Isa was finally staring down into the bubbling crater. She kept tightly to the scalding Dwemer constructs as she walked over to the entrance, stopping puzzled at the blocked door. The semi-sphere began to open with a slight scraping sound; and before she missed her chance Isa opened the round doors with a loud hiss.

The memories of her first visit to these ruins came flooding back to Isa with the smells. The same heavy, slightly rotting odor hung heavy in the air with the acrid haze of sulfur and dust. She made her way through the fairly small, yet complex ruin until she came upon Dagoth Gilvoth standing in the same unkempt room from before.

"Lord Dagoth wishes to speak with you directly." Gilvoth said, his face stolid.

Arching an eyebrow, Isa walked through the round doors, which closed behind her with yet another hiss. Small red candles were lit at the doorway and a bluish-white glow was coming from ahead of her. As she walked down the small incline Dagoth Ur slowly came into view. Isa stopped some yards away from him and stood waiting for him to speak.

"You have shown weakness within the past few hours." Ur boomed, his face impassive.

Isa pondered for a moment, and then remembered Balabhas.

"If you continue to cleave to those that do not believe, then how can you expect to adequately spread my gospel?" Ur continued, "As you can see, emotional displays will not be tolerated within the Order."

"I understand that, Lord, but I still haven't adapted to recent events. I can assure you that I will not fraternize with Balabhas from this day forward."

"As a mortal I know that you can not assure anything. You are far from perfect. I currently have the man trapped in Assemanu, and that is where you will go. I will need to Robe of St. Roris for our plans, and if the man survives my kin, then I'll consider letting you keep him as a pet."