Chapter XI
"You know, I pity one such as you," called out a voice from the surrounding darkness.
"You left these lands which you claimed to be your home and spent your time in Cyrodiil of all places, whilst the very Imperials you lived amongst were sending their armies East, to take what is ours, what is Dunmer," The man continued. Jiub writhed in his seat, but to no surprise found himself tied down once more.
The voice with no face leaned in closer, towards the torch behind where Jiub was sat, so that he became illuminated by light. As expected by his rant, he was a Dunmer. Red eyes looked into Jiub from a round face, before a hand clad in glass gauntlets grasped out at him, grabbing him by the throat.
"The one thing I hate more than an Imperial," He said, clenching hard, "Is a traitorous Dunmer." With this he slowly released his grip and shuffled back into the shadows.
"First the Imperials take me prisoner... then the crew makes me their play-thing, and now you take me from them by force," Jiub spoke out, staring into darkness.
"...I would love to know why," he asked firmly.
The man chuckled and a burst of flame shot out of the darkness, quietly lighting the room before darting left and right, igniting two more torch's mounted in sconces on the wall.
"Jiub: the wrong Dunmer in the wrong place. How has it come to be that the scrolls chose you?" the man said.
"But no matter, your destiny will be for naught, once I convince you to work for me." Jiub almost cracked a smile,
"I have no interest in working for you, Telvanni," he said defiantly.
The man grimaced, almost impressed,
"Ah, what gave it away? My age? The artefacts I possess? Nevertheless, I don't intend to offer you a choice in this matter, some magic can be very persuasive, and once I break your will, my magic will make you serve me," He growled, moving inwards once more, both hands raised. Jiub struggled with all his strength to break free, as blue light engulfed him and he felt his mind begin to slip away.
The Telvanni roared as the energy flowed from his fingertips,
"Jiub, the one of prophecy. Destined to fulfil a role and aid in ending a blight. I see a much higher use for you in aiding me," came his words, snarling from his tongue.
"The Cliff Racers of these lands, the vermin which shriek and haunt our towns and trade routes. For now they spread the blight disease from the Red Mountain, tainted by Dagoth Ur's corpus. But his schemes will not last, for the prophecies are coming to a head, and you, Jiub, shall be on my side to tame them. The Cliff Racers shall serve me, Frathen Drothan of the Telvanni. With them at my side, the Imperials, the true blight on Morrowind, shall be defeated, and I shall remain."
Jiub was at a loss for words, but could not speak even if he wanted to, for the magic that wrapped around him was inside his head. It was telling him to do one thing then another, swirling mystical voices, hundreds of them, chanting in near unison. As the babble became clearer and more focused, as the light intensified, one message stood out: submit to your new master.