Morrowind is the property of Bethesda Softworks. That is all. – D
It was cold and damp and dark. The smell of ozone lingered in the air, masking a darker, sweet, metallic odour. Winterbell watched some red stars pulse in the darkness, wondering vaguely where she was. She felt a nagging sense of disquiet, but was tired, and didn't want to think about it.
Winterbell blinked, and suddenly the stars swam into focus, revealing themselves to be the dying embers of a fire. With a start, Winterbell remembered where she was and sat up quickly. She then wished she hadn't. The pressure behind her eyes made her head ache fiercely, and her body was protesting under the burden of wounds, old and new, healed my magic.
Winterbell staggered to her feet and kicked the embers back into some semblance of a blaze. In the flickering light Winterbell surveyed the destruction she had wrought.
The necromancers' cave was now a slaughterhouse. Magicka does some interesting things to flesh and bone as it destroys them, but Winterbell did not feel she needed to examine the phenomenon any more closely. If fact, she felt rather sickened by the whole thing, not least her remembered glee in destruction at the battle's height.
Winterbell collected all the intact valuables that she could carry. As she vacated the cave, she propped the door open with a stone, so the nix and alits could take care of disposing of the corpses.
Weighed down with guilt, Winterbell did not feel she could return to civilization. Instead she started walking, numbly, in no particular direction. The sky began to darken prematurely; Winterbell paid it no mind, her energy concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.
It was mid afternoon when Winterbell began to notice the swirls and eddies of ash. Looking up, she saw that the eastern sky was the colour of a bruise, and she decided to seek shelter. The wind had whipped itself up into a series of violent gusts that nearly knocked the old mage off her feet by the time Winterbell spotted the door. Like one returning to their true hearth and home Winterbell pushed on the tomb entrance gratefully.
Inside was the usual assortment of undead and minor daedra, Winterbell had no trouble dealing with them, and, when the last had been vanquished, she sank down gratefully beside an urn.
Winterbell looked at the urn, and made herself more comfortable against the cool rock wall. Within the tomb there was silence, a total sanctuary from the ranging gale outside. Winterbell pulled out some corkbulb, and began to gnaw on it.
"So, why are you on the floor then?" she asked the urn conversationally. "Did you fall off? Or weren't you important enough for a stand? I don't suppose it matters much to you anymore."
Winterbell pulled out a spare robe from her bag and wrapped it around herself like a blanket, "I don't think it would bother me much. In fact, I don't think I'd mind if I wasn't even cremated. A curled up little skeleton wouldn't be such a bad end, really."
"I have to consider what I really want. Everything I thought I wanted all sort of happened, and don't get me wrong, I'm grateful. I just never thought I'd enjoy it so much. Killing people; mages. I proved that I was better than all of them. They weren't quite the people I wanted to prove it to; maybe someday I'll go back and kill them. I don't know what I want anymore, I've got here...now what do I do?"
Winterbell rambled sleepily for quite some time, about the battle with the necromancers, about her past, about her magic, and about a damp little town that she was beginning to regard as her home.
"And the point is, if they are, we are, friends, what do I owe them? Nothing, that's what, I didn't ask for friends. Then again, I should owe them something...made it all happen, they did. Except for Athrys, she's a bitch. Someday she'll get it, you know...not from me, at least...well, maybe not...I'm so tired. Maybe I'll sleep...Father..."
When Winterbell awoke the next morning, she did not speak to the urn again. She didn't loot the tomb either. Instead she took an emerald from her pouch, and placed it on the urn with something akin to reverence.
A scroll later and she was in the temple courtyard across from the bustling slave market of Molag Mar. Winterbell eyed off some of the goods with repugnance. Like a majority of mages, she held that summoned creatures were far more useful than the scrawny beasts on sale.
Winterbell's first priority, now that she was here, was to leave as soon as possible. A short voyage over relatively calm seas later found Winterbell back in Vivec. Winterbell had never been outside the Foreign Quarter, and she spent a few hours wandering the city, resolutely ignoring the numerous street vendors.
Remembering her duties she spent some time browsing Jobasha's Rare Books, and dutifully stole a tome from a high elf in the Vivec Mage's Guild for Edwinna. Winterbell also met Trebonius.
Archmage Trebonius was a giant of a man, he looked very impressive in his fine robes, but Winterbell could not for the life of her work out how exactly he had become Archmage. Part of the problem was that he didn't seem terribly clear on it himself. In fact, he wasn't terribly clear on anything. Rather than the outright insanity of Therena, Trebonius's madness was hidden, merely lurking around the edges of his speech.
His staff seemed to tolerate his eccentricities, for the most part. Winterbell listened with amusement to their accounts of the various tasks that they had been set. Winterbell decided that, at the top at least, there was very little difference between the Guild and the Telvanni; high-level magic seemed to warp all minds alike.
Winterbell asked the peculiar mage if there were any duties that she might do, more out of curiosity rather than any genuine desire to be helpful. He told her to solve the mystery of the disappearance of the Dwarves. He had no idea how Winterbell should go about this, but seemed confident that she'd pop out to the nearest ruin and solve the problem in no time.
Winterbell told the other mages of her quest with a roll of her eyes, but as she lined up for the Guild Guide back to Balmora she couldn't help but go over all that she knew about the Dwemer. She was soon standing surrounded by all her bags and packs, her nose buried in Antecedents of Dwemer Law and the light of purpose burning in her eyes.
Winterbell arrived back in Balmora around lunchtime. Ranis was pleased to see her, and was impressed when she reported the death of Manwe. Winterbell was given some restore magica potions and a promotion as a reward. Ranis smiled rather maliciously and told Winterbell to hang around if she wanted any more duties. Winterbell talked vaguely about duties from other mages, not wishing to receive another of Ranis's assignments just yet.
Winterbell had lunch with Estirdalin among her latest haul of ingredients and other goods. Winterbell gazed at her piles of books, scrolls, potions, clothes and soul gems rather guiltily.
"I am taking up rather a lot of space, aren't I?"
"Oh, don't worry about it, we hardly ever use this area anyway. It's meant for traveling wizards, and you're the only one we've had for a while."
"But it does look rather untidy. Not professional, if you see what I mean."
"Perhaps." Estirdalin conceded.
"Where do you live?" Winterbell asked curiously. Estirdalin looked surprised,
"Me? I have a room at the Southwall. It's not the classiest, but it's clean and cheap."
"Ajira's the only one who stays here full time right?"
"Yes. Sharn lives in a townhouse with her cousin across the river, and Ranis has a house somewhere. We think she's hidden it magically, because no one's ever seen it."
"Paranoid much?"
Estirdalin giggled, "Just a bit, I think. I gather she has a fair few enemies. Where was I? Oh yes, Galbedir lives with her husband, he's a smith you know, and Masaline has an apartment in Vivec."
"Vivec?"
"Apparently she inherited it and doesn't want to give it up. She commutes back each night. Marayan stays at the Eight Plates, he can afford it, I guess."
"Hmm...I really should move out. But I don't want to spend that much gold."
"Well, there's no rush. You know you're welcome to stay here as long as you like."
Winterbell spent the afternoon selling her goods and getting her weapons fixed. She was pleasantly surprised to learn that Dorisa Darvel had copies of Chronicles and Nchunak's Fire and Faith. Winterbell decided to catch up on her reading before handing the books over.
It was early evening when Winterbell's potion making was interrupted by a rather subdued Dunmer. Marayan apologized for annoying her previously, and seemed about to launch into an explanation. He visibly restrained himself however, and changed the subject,
"I hear your thinking of moving out of the Guildhall."
"Is it possible to sneeze in this place without everyone knowing about it?"
"No." Marayan grinned. "Anyway, I do have a reason for interrupting your work. If you want to rent a house cheaply, talk to Nileno at the Hlaalu Council Manor. She owns a string of properties on the other side of the river. Tell her I sent you and you'll get a good deal."
"How good a deal?"
"If you offer her enough right off, she'll give you the deed. Except that it returns to her upon your death, of course."
"Of course." Winterbell echoed. Suddenly her eyes narrowed in suspicion, "If they're so good, why don't you live in one?"
"Because I can afford not to. Besides," he smiled sheepishly, "I don't like cooking and cleaning."
"Hrumph!" Sharn wandered past, her arms full of racer plumes, "Typical male!" She snorted.
Winterbell laughed. Marayan watched her, a strange smile on his face. Suddenly he bent down and said in her ear,
"So you can laugh after all. I was beginning to wonder."
Winterbell started, and swatted him away with an mock-glare, "Go away! I'm trying to work here!"
"I'm going, I'm going. Just be careful, you're starting to sound like Sharn."
"And just what is wrong with that?" the alchemist in question folded her arms with a steely glare. Marayan backed away from the Orc,
"Nothing, nothing. This 'typical male' might go home before he's torn apart by irate females."
"Yeah, shove off!" Estirdalin called lightheartedly. She wandered over to Winterbell, "Are you sure you want to move out? Look at what you'll miss out on."
"But think of all the privacy I'll gain."
"There is that."
Nileno was very businesslike. She ran Winterbell quickly through a short list of available properties. Houses next to the river cost more, as did those with more than one floor. Winterbell noticed one was a lot cheaper than the others.
"What's wrong with that one?"
"There is nothing wrong with it. I'm just having some trouble selling it because of the previous owner."
"Who was he?"
"No one is quite sure. We believe he was an assassin. We do know that he got on the wrong side of the Morang Tong."
"How?"
"They killed him. Poison. And now everyone is waiting for his vengeful assassin-ghost to show up. Superstitious nonsense. We even had the temple bless the place."
Winterbell grinned. "Even if his ghost did show up, I don't think it would bother me for long. How much?"
"Per week? 15 gold. If you want to buy it it will be 1400 gold. The deed-"
"Goes back to you when I die, I know."
"Or if you leave the island."
"I'll pay the 1400"
"It's a pleasure doing business with you. Now if you just sign here...and here..."
Winterbell wandered back the the Guildhall, the deed and the key to her new house safely stowed in her waterproof bag.
"How did it go?" Masaline asked.
"I got the place."
"Well done! Are you going to decorate it?"
"What? No! I have better things to do with my money."
"I decorated my place. Shades of green and brown. I'm still looking for matching curtains though."
"Right." Winterbell's eyes were beginning to glaze over. She was rescued by Ajira and Estirdalin, who asked her about her new place.
"Ooh. It's the place where that assassin was killed. I wonder if it's cursed?" Masaline seemed entirely too thrilled at the idea. Estirdalin rolled her eyes,
"If it's cursed we'll just un-curse it. Who wants to live in a cursed house?"
"I just thought...it might be fun."
Estirdalin asked why it might be fun. Winterbell didn't hear the explanation, instead talking to Ajira about setting up ingredient storage.
"Hey! Did it work out?" Marayan called, noticing the discussion. Winterbell smiled,
"It worked out well. Thank you."
Marayan bowed formally, "It was my pleasure."