Cura was about to leave when Vigilant Tolan was coming inside the Hall.
"You're leaving without saying goodbye?" The large Nord raised one of his eyebrows. "Is that any way to thank me for years of fun and games?"
"Not yet, Vigilant Tolan." Cura stated. "I had an awful nightmare, and Lydia tells me people are whispering about Daedric Activity."
"Yes, I've heard about it. Apparently something strange is going on at Nightcaller Temple. A Priest of Mara is going to be looking into it." Tolan stated as he walked over to the Hearth to warm himself. "If you want to help him, you could. He was just talking to the Jarl."
Cura nodded. "All right. Thank you, Vigilant Tolan."
Tolan moussed Cura's hair around in a friendly manner. "Do something about these nightmares, aye?"
Lydia maneuvered around the Nord and followed Cura down the snowy hill outside. It was still dark out, and the pair hurried along the dark trail to Dawnstar. Why did nobody mention it to Cura?
Cura could tell the people around her looked tired, and the Keeper was particularly ornery, but she hadn't felt much of a change since she returned. Then again, nightmares were very common for her lately, so perhaps Vaermina's influence felt in place.
Eventually, the pair arrived at Dawnstar, where they saw the couple of elder Legionnaires talking near the border of the town. There were people that could be seen off in the distance, dismantling the Dragon's skeleton and some people seemingly arguing near the docks.
Cura's first move was to speak with Brina Merilis, the retired female Legionnaire, and her Brother-in-arms, Horik. "Hello, Lady Brina." Cura addressed her formally with a salute. "I hear that there's something odd going on here in Dawnstar."
"Damn right something odd is going on here in Dawnstar." Brina snapped."Not a single man or woman in Dawnstar has gotten a good night's rest in days. We keep having the same nightmare, over and over. If people aren't tired, they're angry, and if they aren't angry, they're afraid. It's made keeping order a mess. I hear Mara has sent one of her priests to the inn to try to calm people down, but I don't know how much words will do now."
"He's at the Inn..." Cura muttered. "Okay, thank you. Stendarr be with you." She hurried off, and Lydia quickly headed after her.
Brina and Horik exchanged mildly confused glances, but ultimately decided that it was sensible that Vigilants of Stendarr would want to involve themselves in this. After all, there seemed to be a lot of them in town today.
Cura and Lydia headed inside the Inn where they seemed to have converged in the middle of a conversation between a Dark Elf in orange robes and a yellow hood with an Elven Mace, wearing a very recognizable Amulet of Mara around his neck was consoling the patrons of the Inn.
A female Nord miner was shouting at the Priest. "It's a curse! It has to be! I've got to get out of this town."
Another female Nord miner snapped at her friend, unbelieving of the superstition. "Irgnir, get a hold of yourself. They're just dreams. Please tell her, Erandur."
The priest, Erandur raised both his hands in a calming gesture. "Listen to your friend, Fruki. They are just dreams, my dear. I assure you that it is quite normal."
Irgnir scoffed loudly and dismissively. "It's the same dream over and over again. You think that's normal? It's evil I tell you!"
Fruki crossed her arms in solidarity. "Erandur, she has a point. You keep telling us no harm will follow these dreams, but they must be an omen."
Thoring, the Inn owner called out over the counter. "Give him a chance to speak. He's trying to help us."
Erandur felt like he was losing control of the atmosphere. "Everyone, please. I'm doing what I can to end these nightmares. In the meantime all I ask is you remain strong and put your trust in Lady Mara."
Irgnir stifled up. "I... I will. Thank you..."
The patrons all returned to their tables to drink and eat.
Erandur nodded, and Cura finally approached, seeing as she wasn't about to interrupt anything. "You're the Priest of Mara I've heard about."
"Yes, my daughter. Is there something I can help you with?" Erandur asked softly before he noticed her Amulet of Stendarr. "Ah, I see. You're one of the Vigilants of Stendarr. Good, good. I presume you're here to aid me? The entire town is being plagued by horrible nightmares. They're in serious danger but I'm afraid there's little I can do about it."
"Well... maybe you could find some way to block out the Dreams? Perhaps a Spell that could surround the Town?" Cura mused. "'Dreams themselves are harmless', right?"
Erandur shook his head and spoke in a low voice so as to not stir up a storm. "These dreams are manifestations created by the Daedric Lord Vaermina. She has an awful hunger for our memories. In return, she leaves behind nightmares, not unlike a cough marks a serious illness. I must end her terrible influence over these people before the damage becomes permanent."
Lydia scoffed. "I agree. If Vaermina's influence is allowed to grow, it can only lead to disaster. We've already fought a servant of Molag Bal today. To deal with Vaermina's shenanigans would be a pleasure." She tried her hardest to not roll her eyes, but failed.
"Forgive my Housecarl's biting sarcasm." Cura asked Erandur politely. "She hasn't had a good night's sleep in a long time."
"Already forgiven." Erandur said with a light, hearty laugh.
"What's your plan?" Cura asked the Priest.
"I need to return to the source of the problem, to Nightcaller Temple. Perhaps you'd be willing to assist me in that regard?" Erandur was hoping that she would agree. More hands makes for lighter lifting, after all.
"What do you mean, "return"? You've been there?" Lydia asked him, growing suspicious of the humble Priest.
"I've already said too much. If anyone overhears what we're saying, it could start a panic. I would simply ask that you trust me and help me end Dawnstar's nightmares." Erandur stated plainly. Indeed, rousing panic would only please the Daedric Prince, most likely.
"I trust you. How can I help?" Cura stated with a determined expression in her eyes. This would potentially be her last Vigilant mission in Dawnstar, so Cura was determined to make it count. After this, freedom, at long last.
"Wonderful! My lady Mara will be quite pleased! Nightcaller Temple is only a short walk from Dawnstar. Come, we must hurry." Erandur quickly heade dout the door, passing both Cura and Lydia.
"He seems suspicious." Lydia stated. "I can't quite put my finger on it, but a Nord knows a creep when she sees one, and that Elf is definitely a creep."
"I agree that he seems to know more than he lets on, but I'll wait and see." Cura shrugged. "Just be diligent, Lydia, and don't attack him unless he proves to be a threat."
The two headed outside the Inn and began to follow the Dunmer through the edge of the town and up the pathway Southbound. Though, instead of continuing Southward, where they would have reached the Hall, they turned Eastward up the white hillside.
Erandur began to speak nonchalantly. "I grew up in The Pale. This land was my home for most of my life... and for a Dunmer, that's quite a statement, I assure you." He chuckled.
Cura nodded in agreement, though she had seen Dunmer in these parts before. "It's not... common, for certain."
There were rocks and crags jutting out from the cliffsides nearby, and when Cura and Lydia finally passed around them, they saw a large stone tower aiming high over the mount itself, guarded by a couple of white Frostbite Spiders. Cura cringed. Ugh, more of these things? She was fed up of seeing the large arachnids.
"The tower on that hill is our destination. People around here call it the Tower of the Dawn. I'm not familiar with the tower's history, but it was deserted for quite a long time before Nightcaller Temple was established inside."Erandur gave hte pair a bit of a history tour of hte structure itself, from a safe distance. Cura listened intently. The tower itself intrigued her. Erandur continued when he noticed that he had her attentopn. "When the temple was active the priests would rarely be seen in Dawnstar. They preferred to live a solitary existence. The temple's been abandoned for decades now. Ironic isn't it... a ruin within a ruin? There's a small shrine to Mara I established inside the tower's entry hall. I was hoping to seek spiritual guidance from Her. Perhaps my prayers were answered and your reason for stumbling across Dawnstar is more than a mere coincidence."
"Actually, I've lived here my entire life," Cura corrected his assessment. "but I was going to head Southeast the coming morning. Perhaps Mara, or Stendarr, planted the idea of investigation in me before hand."
"Or maybe both. Mara and Stendarr's children often find themselves at each other's sides in times like these, as Love and Mercy tend to run hand in hand." Erandur assessed further. He then gestured for the Vigilant to accompany him. "Follow me, it's this way. It feels good to finally have a chance to help these people. Helplessly watching them suffer's been difficult."
Cura nodded in agreement. "Let me handle those Spiders first, all right?"
Erandur waved a hand. "Certainly. Deal with them as you must."
Cura hurried ahead and took in a breath, "YOL TOOR!"
She wasn't playing around.
A torrent of fire blasted from her throat and engulfed the Spiders as they stood in the line of fire. The Shout made short work of the arachnids, and left Erandur with his mouth hung open in surprise. Lydia gave a fist pump in the air. "Yes!" Witnessing the Thu'um always left the Nord with a feeling of excitement.
"A Breton with the power of the Voice?" Erandur noted. "Impressive. Damn impressive."
"Er... thank you." Cura blushed.
"Have you studied with the Greybeards?" Erandur asked. "A little unusual, for a Vigilant of Stendarr, I must admit."
"Actually, I'm abou-" Cura was almost about to reveal where she was parting to, when Lydia elbowed her in the ribs, reminding her that this elf was a suspicious character at best, and malicious at worst. "...yes, well... let's get going."
Cura walked ahead to the door of the Temple, where Erandur halted her. "Wait! Before we go in, I think it important that you should know this." He cautioned.
"Know what?" Cura took her hand off the door handle.
"Years ago, this temple was raided by an orc war party seeking revenge... they were being plagued by nightmares just like the people of Dawnstar." Erandur explained.
"Were they successful?" Cura wanted to know. If this place was home to hostile Orcs, she would have to go back to the Vigil and get reinforcements. The Orsimer were a fearsome foe, especially in large groups.
"No. Knowing they could never defeat the orcs, the priests of Vaermina released what they call "The Miasma," putting everyone to sleep." Erandur coiled the tale.
"Ah, all right." Cura felt relieved. "Why is it dangerous if they're asleep?"
"I'm concerned that when this place is unsealed, the Miasma will dissipate and they'll awaken; both orcs and priests alike." Erandur shivered at the thought. Cura nodded in agreement. It could be concerning. Though, she was the Dragonborn, as she had to persistently remind herself. The Orcs should be fearing her, not the other way around. It'd be best to not drag the others into this danger unawares.
What does the Miasma do?
"The Miasma was created by the priests of Vaermina for their rituals. It's a gas that places the affected in a deep sleep. Because the rituals would last for months or even years, the Miasma was designed to slow down the aging process."
"Is the gas dangerous?" Cura inquired of Erandur.
"Sadly, yes. The longer an individual is exposed to the Miasma, the more the mind can become damaged. Those who've been under the effect of it for extended periods of time have been known to lose their minds entirely. In some cases, a few never awoke at all." Erandur spoke with reticence in his voice.
A few never awoke at all. Something about that statement rubbed Cura the wrong way. It seemed like a near-admission of culpability, or at the very minimum, observational involvement. Or, he could be speaking in an objective Scientific sense.
"My Thane, I think we should consider backup." Lydia informed her. "I can run to the Hall and get a few of the Vigilants. We may need their help."
"Lydia, if I can't do this alone, I can't do anything alone." Cura was displeased. "The three of us can handle this."
"If you say so, my Thane." Lydia clicked her tongue. It seemed like a bad idea. Especially since this Priest of Mara was suspect. For all they knew, he could be at the head of this epidemic. He could be trying to lure in sacrifices to Vaermina, and the pair of them would make for the perfect sacrifices, as they were foolish enough to follow him. The Amulet of Mara could be counterfeit, even. After all, getting one was as easy as buying it from the Radiant Raiment in Solitude. Or, even worse still, he could have murdered a Priest of Mara and stolen his habit and Amulet.
"We're ready, Erandur." Cura told him with confidence, and the Dunmer opened the door.
"Ladies first." Erandur spoke in a gentle manner. Cura gave him a gratuitous nod as she headed in first, shield raised. She was getting better at dungeon-dwelling. She would suffer no unwanted surprises.
Within, the entry vestibule, carved in solid stone, lead directly into the main entry hall, where Erandur had placed a shrine of Mara on the left-hand wall. The room was purified; Cura could feel it. The tranquility matched that of the Hall of the Vigilant, blessed by the Shrine of Stendarr under Keeper Carcette's constant prayer.
So he truly was a Priest of Mara. She responded to his prayers. This small indicator gave Cura much comfort, though Lydia still was unconvinced.
There were pews broken down and tossed to the sides in the entrance hall, and Cura had to carefully maneuver around them not to trip. This was most likely a result of the Orcish invaders. Malacath clearly had no established rules against attacking the followers of other Daedra, it seemed.
Perhaps that was the difference between the Aedra and Daedra, in the end. The Aedra were orderly, and placed rules to keep their followers from attacking one another, while the Daedra were chaotic and only loved to witness such.
Perhaps Meridia fell somewhere in the middle. The Magna-Ge, It was all beginning to make sense.
Erandur walked over to what appeared to be a large tapestry depicting the Daedric Prince Vaermina; a woman's face between two serpents looking in two separate directions, seemingly coming from her shoulders. At her breast was a strange, horned object, which Cura drew attention to. "Wow, what a macabre image. She has the head of a demon on her breast?"
"That is no head of a demon," Erandur corrected her. "it is the Skull of Corruption. Vaermina's instrument of torment on Nirn."
Lydia felt a shiver rise up her spine. "Wonderful. I'm going back to the Hall to get the others, my Thane. For our own good." She left Cura's side and headed towards the front door.
"Lydia!" Cura called after her, but was ignored entirely. "hold on, Erandur." She gestured towards the Dark Elf, who turned his attention to the magickal tapestry.
Cura rushed outside and grabbed Lydia by the shoulder. "Lydia, no!"
"My Thane, you can't be serious! He intends to sacrifice us." Lydia grit her teeth. "I'll not have my soul travel in a Daedric Realm for all eternity! Not because you want to prove you're a Big Girl now!"
Cura felt a little insulted. "Well, fine, then you don't have to!" She turned to the door. "Wait outside, then. But no going to the Vigil! Stand guard."
"M-my Thane-are you sure about this?" Lydia asked anxiously. "It feels like bad news, all around."
"Erandur may have a shady past, but I think I can trust him." Cura informed her. "He's very close to Mara. I can feel it. His devotion to her is true. Her power embraces him."
"By Shor, I hope you're right." Lydia sneered as she turned around and walked back inside.
"Now you want to come with?" Cura scoffed.
"Yes, fine. It's clear that you can't make any good decisions on your own, my Thane." Lydia mocked. "You need me here to keep you out of trouble, as per usual."
Cura was irritated by her insubordinate attitude, but she would allow it. After all, Lydia wanted what was best for her. Though sometimes, it's not about what's best for her, but what's best for the people of Dawnstar.
Ending the Dragon menace would not mean much if everyone here died before then.
Cura and Lydia rejoined Erandur. "We're ready."
"Give me just a moment, and I'll have this open." Erandur stated as he blasted the barrier with flaming Holy Magic, donned to him by Mara, Goddess of Love.
The dark barrier began to dissolve under the pressure from the fire.
"Perfect. Mara be praised!" Erandur exclaimed as he ran ahead.
Cura and Lydia followed behind, weapons at the ready to meet whatever oddity awaited them.
As they headed down the stone halls, Lydia spoke. "Who is the Daedric Lord Vaermina exactly?"
Erandur began to hesitantly explain as he led the way through.
"Vaermina resides in a strange realm known as Quagmire... a nightmarish land where reality shifts upon itself in seemingly impossible ways. From her citadel at the center, she reaches forth to collect our memories, leaving nothing in return apart from visions of horror and despair."
He really seemed knowledgeable on the subject. "What does she do with the memories?" Lydia shakily asked, perturbed by the notion.
"Who can say? Perhaps she collects them for display like works of art in a nonsensical art gallery. Whatever the case may be, her intentions are far from benevolent." Erandur spoke through gritted teeth as he turned the corner and walked through a cobweb. He began to dust the silk off his face in irritation.
They reached a large open area where what seemed like cage bars connected the ceiling to the floor along the center hole of the main hall. The floor spiralled downwards, where at the very bottom floor, through the bars, Cura could make out a black, staff-like object with a demonic horned skull atop it emitting a red aura.
"Now I can show you the source of the nightmares. Over here." Erandur walked to a better angle and pointed Lydia to it.
"Behold the Skull of Corruption, the source of Dawnstar's woes. We must reach the inner sanctum and destroy it. Come, there's no time to lose." He ran ahead, and was immediately blocked by an entryway vestibule that was sealed off with dark magic.
"Damn it! The priests must have activated this barrier when the Miasma was released."
Erandur cursed.
"Looks difficult to breach." Cura mused.
"Impossible actually." Erandur bemoaned before a thought entered his mind. "Hmm, I wonder... There may be a way to bypass the barrier, but I must check their library and confirm it can be done."
"You seem to know an awful lot about this place." Cura raised an eyebrow, and Lydia readied her sword for potential combat.
"I suppose there's no point in concealing the truth any longer. My knowledge of this temple comes from personal experience. I was a priest of Vaermina." Erandur confessed.
Cura simply nodded. She figured as much.
Lydia exclaimed."You liar! Scoundrel!"
"And what would you have me say? Sorry for following the misguided teachings of a mad Divine? Sorry for stealing memories from children?" Erandur bit back. He revealed his hand: he was a coward and a runaway at heart. "Do you realize when the Orcs attacked, I was only concerned with myself? I fled… and left my brothers and sisters behind to die." His voice trailed away with the sting of sorrow and regret.
"Don't worry; I won't accost you." Cura assured him as a Vigilant of Stendarr. "The past is the past."
"I've spent the last few decades living in regret and seeking redemption from Mara. And by Her Benevolence, I will right my wrongs." Erandur promised.
"And I will do all I can to help you." Cura also promised. "Now... How can the Skull be affecting Dawnstar? Nobody is here operating it." She noted all of the slumbering bodies of Cultists in purple robes and Orcs alike.
"Lore holds that the Skull of Corruption holds a constant hunger for the memories of others. The Skull has been out of touch for so long, I fear it's gained the ability to reach out on its own and try to feed. What it does with these memories is just conjecture and an argument for scholars and historians to this very day." Erandur mused as he watched the wretched thing rippling the air with its dark aura.
"I still have my key to the library. Whenever you're ready, let's move on." Erandur held up a rusted old key ring with a triangular, black key.
Cura glared at Lydia, giving her one last chance to back out, but the Housecarl simply motioned ahead, to keep going forward. Cura took the hint. "All right. I'm ready."
"This way... the library isn't far." Erandur opened the door to their right, and they stepped over the sleeping Cultists.
Just then, unexpectedly, Cura was grabbed by her ankle and pulled to the floor.
They were waking up!
"What... are you... doing... in our Temple?!" The Vaermina Cultist shouted at Cura, who quickly kicked him in the face and scrambled away.
Quickly, the Orcs too began to pull themselves off the floor.
"Don't allow them to swarm!" Lydia exclaimed as she immediately stabbed one through his collarbone.
Erandur too began to fight; carefully maintaining his distance from the angry Orcs while bombarding them with fire.
Cura planted her mace in one of the attacker's faces, killing him when a bolt of lightning struck her in the back, causing her to fall forwards, off balance. The Breton caught herself mid-fall and activated her Dragonskin ability, taking in the next hostile spells from Cultists who were some distance away.
"For crying out loud, she's a Breton!" one of the warlocks exclaimed. "Our Magic's a joke to her!"
"Even a Breton's gotta fold sometime!" his partner exclaimed as he began to fire charged streams of lighting at Cura, who walked through it as if it were a gentle stream of water.
Since the pair were Dunmer, Cura knew her fire could do nothing to harm them. Instead, she opted to use something that she rarely focused on.
After all, she can't disappoint them in their assessment of her Manmeri status. Cura raised a hand, electing to use one of her innate spells, a primer for all Bretons, according to Keeper Carcette when she was young, and with a purple glow, she conjured up what appeared to be a ghostly purple wolf. "Attack them." She commanded.
"A familiar!" One of the cultists exclaimed seconds before the wolf spirit ran to him and tore into his right leg.
"Alsiub!" his ally exclaimed, turning his attack towards the wolf to try and get it away from his friend.
Cura rushed forward and smashed the distracted cultist over the head, decapitating him, and then spun around, breaking the other's neck with a well-placed shield smash.
Erandur made short work of the Orcs with Lydia's aid. Her sword damaged their scalded flesh.
"That was hairy..." Erandur exclaimed. "are you both all right?"
Cura nodded. "Yes."
Lydia nodded, as well. "Well... about as well as can be expected."
"I don't like that they're waking up." Erandur admitted. "I bet the Skull can sense our purpose here."
Cura began to look around, noticing the dilapidated bookshelves and utter wreckage in the library.
"Barring any more interruptions, perhaps we can locate the information I need." Erandur sighed as he laid his mace back on his hip.
"What am I looking for?" Cura asked him as she continued to survey the wreckage from her vantage point.
"We're looking for a book of alchemical recipes called "The Dreamstride." The tome bears the likeness of Vaermina on the cover. It should be here somewhere. If you check around the shelves around the balcony, I'll check around the lower level." Erandur assured her.
"Okay. Lydia, you take the other side of the room. I'll take to this side." Cura instructed, pointing to the south of the room for Lydia, across the shelves.
"I'm on it." Lydia stated as she turned around. "I don't think we'll have much luck, but I'll try." She headed in the ordered direction and walked around a couple of corpses.
Erandur clicked his tongue. "This library used to be filled with arcane volumes. Now look at it; almost everything's been burned. I hope the tome we need is still intact."
"I hope so, too..." Cura muttered as she pushed over a toppled shelf to pass up the stairs.
Lydia frustratedly began to rummage through piles of books that were destroyed beyond salvation, eventually coming up short.
Erandur disappointedly skimmed through the wasted knowledge on the shelves.
Cura noticed something strange on a pillar at the other side of the walkway; it was a purple book with a design on the cover reminiscent of the barrier that kept them out at the entrance to the Tower itself.
"Found it!" Cura alerted the others as she picked up her pace and leapt over the gap on the higher level. She almost lost her footing and came close to falling off, but managed to maneuver herself into a forward roll instead, and crashed into the column. She quickly grabbed the troublesome time and jumped down, a little winded.
She quickly passed it to Erandur for closer examination.
He nodded and quickly began to skim through the text.
"The Dreamstride"
The Mysterious Alchemists of Vaermina
For over a thousand years, the Priests of Vaermina have been masters of the art of alchemy. The complexity and potency of their mixtures are nothing short of legendary. These alchemical treasures are so highly sought-after, that a single draught showing up on the black market can command sums in the tens of thousands of septims.
Of the numerous potions that have surface to date, Vaermina's Torpor is perhaps the most impressive. A single sip of this viscous liquid places the imbiber in a state known as "The Dreamstride." This condition allows the subject to experience the dreams of another as if they were actually there. The subject becomes an integral part of the dream, behaving as if they belong. To any other entities in this dream state, the subject will be mistaken for the dreamer; the subject will even find his mannerisms, speech patterns and knowledge expanded appropriately.
To an observer, after the subject has imbibed the potion, they will appear to vanish. As the subject traverses distances within the dream, they will also traverse distances in the actual world. When the Torpor's effect has expire, the subject will fade back into reality in the exact location projected within the Dreamstride. Some Dreamstriders have transported their subjects a few feet, and some have appeared thousands of miles from their origin in a matter of minutes.
It's to be noted that the Dreamstride is highly dangerous and presents the subject with numerous pitfalls. In certain dreams, subjects have been exposed to life-threatening scenarios such as sicknesses, violence and even death. In most cases, the subject simply fades back to our world without harm, but in some instances, the subject never reappeared and was assumed to have expired or the subject reappeared deceased. It's also quite possible that the subject could reappear in a precarious or hazardous location in reality, even though that location appeared safe within the Dreamstride.
Vaermina's Torpor is as mysterious and elusive as the priests that created it. It's unknown whether this unique transport mechanism is a result of the Torpor itself or simply the odd machinations of Vaermina, but the potential for using the Dreamstride to penetrate seemingly impassible obstacles certainly outweighs its mysterious nature."
Erandur quickly closed the book before Cura and Lydia could look at the contents within. "Mara be praised! There is a way past the barrier to the inner sanctum. It involves a recipe for a liquid known as Vaermina's Torpor."
"Is that some type of potion?'' Cura raised an eyebrow. She was unsure if she should be learning about these things, but it was important given the circumstances.
"Yes. The Torpor grants an ability the priests of Vaermina called "The Dreamstride"; using dreams to travel distances in the real world."
Erandur explained.
"That's impossible." Lydia interjected quickly.
"I assure you, the Dreamstride is well known in Vaerminian Lore." Erandur informed her.
"That's amazing!" Cura stated. "To be able to dream through reality? Wow..." Now she was beginning to understand the allure and seduction of the Daedra. This was how they pulled people in.
"Quite amazing, yes. Alchemy and the blessings of a Divine distilled down into a ingestible liquid." Erandur admitted. "Sadly, I have yet to see it function in person."
"Does this mean that I'm going to be your test subject, then?" Cura wondered if that was the implication.
"As a sworn priest of Mara, the elixir won't work for me. The Torpor will only work for Priests of Vaermina, or the unaffiliated." Erandur explained.
"And I am a Vigilant of Stendarr." Cura explained. "It will deny me, too, most likely."
The pair looked at Lydia, who spoke out. "Sounds dangerous. How can you be certain?"
"I will not lie to you, there is some risk involved. The last time the Torpor was imbibed could have been decades ago." Erandur clicked his tongue.
Cura looked to Lydia. "You're not connected to a Divine."
Lydia's eyes widened. "Forget it! It could kill me!"
Erandur feared this reaction. They came all this way; there was no going back now. "No, all my research points in the opposite direction. This is the exact liquid the priests would drink. The only question in my mind is whether you will be granted The Dreamstride. Otherwise, the worst that could happen is a bad aftertaste. I swear upon Lady Mara that I would never let any harm befall you."
"Forget it! This isn't what I signed up for!" Lydia shouted. "Keeping Cura alive is one thing, but-but this... I won't do it!"
"Lydia, please... you're the only one who could." Cura pleaded. "I'm not going to denounce Stendarr to do this. I could never!"
"I could probably lose my mind in this!" Lydia exclaimed. "Dying in combat is one thing; that's how a Nord reaches Sovngarde. But this... this is an unworthy death. What would this 'Dreamstride' even feel like?"
"You'll be viewing the memory of another through your own eyes and with your own body. Those around you will perceive you as normal and you will find the words you utter may not be your own. Thanks to all of these odd principles, there is quite a lot of debate as to whether this is really a dream or just the machinations of Vaermina." Erandur explained. "You won't die; you'll just retrace the steps of the person you dream as."
Lydia looked to Cura, who was all but looking at her with puppy eyes. Then she relented and turned back to Erandur. "So... it's just like living someone else's life-but as a dream?"
"Yes." Erandur nodded. "More or less. I suppose."
Lydia sighed and placed two fingers on her forehead, massaging her brow. "I can't believe I'm actually doing this..." After clearing her throat, she asked. "Do you know where we can find the Torpor?"
"I believe there is a laboratory in the east wing. If we proceed there, we should be able to locate a sample." Erandur recalled.
"All right, let's do it." Lydia walked ahead slowly and muttered to herself. "Bastard..."
"Thank you, Lydia." Cura said, hoping to ease her Housecarl in this situation. The trio headed through a passageway, and entered into a small vestibular room with barrels, alchemical ingredients, an Alchemy table, and a small wharf. More of Vaermina's devotees had awoken already and blasted Lydia with lightning. Cura rushed ahead and bashed one with her mace, driving his head into the floor while Lydia caught herself.
The Nord's heart was racing with both fury and electricity. As more devotees entered the area, as well as Orc invaders, alarmed by the sounds of violence and ready to participate themselves, Lydia clenched her sword.
"HYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" The Nord gave off her race's violent and explosive War Cry, which caused the Dark Elves to back away in horror, and proceed to run for their lives. Erandur fell backward and gripped his chest, having been startled by it as well. Cura stared blankly as Lydia began to slaughter cowering Orc and Cultist alike.
Cura wondered if the Nords' War Cry was what remained of the peoples' knowledge of the Thu'im, from centuries of unuse.
It was both amusing and fascinating to watch; a large 6-foot tall Orc man running for his life from a Nord woman with a sword in hand. It would have been pathetic if the Nords weren't known for their ferocity. A true match for an Orc, really.
Cura ran behind Lydia and cast a healing spell on her to keep her alive, as well as attacking some of the cultists who came at her, daggers raised.
Erandur aided by bursting flame on the ones who tried to attack them from behind.
When the slaughter finished, the room fell silent. Lydia caught her breath. "Shall we move on, my Thane?"
Cura nodded. "Yes... we have an important task at hand."
"Now that they've been dealt with, we need to find the Torpor." Erandur said.
"How will we know what it looks like?" Cura inquired.
"It should be in a small bottle, very similar to a potion. I'll begin searching up here." Erandur stood at the entryway and gestured to the balcony next to the door. "You can search below there." He pointed to the stone steps leading down to a lower level.
The next area they entered was the laboratory, where Vaermina's Torpor was supposedly stored.
Evidently, there were small shelves with several healing potions, which Cura eagerly pocketed, as well as ingredients like Troll's Fat, Blisterwort, Ice Wraith teeth, vampire dust, Glow dust, Jazbay Grapes, and others.
"The Torpor has to be around here somewhere..." Erandur mused as he began to search.
Lydia headed to the shelf in the corner of the laboratory, where a strange, red bottle sat. Under the bottle, the word 'Torpor' was inscribed. "Here it is." Lydia humphed as she walked it over to Erandur. "This had better not kill me, or I just might come back from the dead and kill you."
Erandur shrugged off her petty threat and continued on. "I'm relieved you discovered a bottle intact; this place looks as though it was ransacked by the Orcs." Indeed; the shelves lay barely intact, with some levels broken in twain.
"So... I've taken us this far, but you need to guide us the rest of the way. Drink." Erandur commanded.
Lydia was taken aback, dumbfounded. "Here? Now?"
"Dawnstar's fate rests in that tiny bottle. The longer we wait, the more damage Vaermina could be doing to those poor people. I understand your hesitation, but I promise you that it works." Erandur reiterated.
"I hope you know what you're doing." Lydia hesitantly opened the bottle, popping the cork.
"Just... please be careful, Lydia." Cura asked her kindly. "We'll be waiting for you."
Lydia nodded dismissively. "How will I know when to awaken?"
"I will watch over you as you slumber to ensure your safety. If I deduce anything is amiss, I will use my arts to bring you back. Otherwise, I am uncertain what will end your Dreamstride. Perhaps when Vaermina's curious appetite has been filled."
Erandur explained.
This offered no comfort at all. But Lydia reluctantly imbibed the violet-coloured fluid. Quickly, she dropped to the ground.
"Lydia!" Cura exclaimed, alarmed.
"Don't fear, my daughter; this is part of the Dreamstride." Erandur consoled the terrified Breton.
Suddenly, Lydia began to phase out of their plane.
"Where am I...?" Lydia asked as the world blurred around her. It truly began to feel like a dream.
She was in the tower, with no sign of Cura or Erandur to be found.
"I hope this is normal... I'll kill that Elf." Lydia grumbled in her head. Suddenly, two other elves in purple robes materialized in front of her, and she realized that the Skull of Corruption was on the altar behind her. Though, she could not move on her own volition to smash it.
She identified the two other crusts as Thirsk and Beren. How she knew that, she had no idea.
Thorek was anxious and shook where he stood. "The orcs have breached the inner sanctum, Brother Veren."
Veren scratched his chin, trying to come up with a plan. "We must hold. We can't allow the Skull to fall into their hands."
Thorek shook his head. It was impossible. "But... no more than a handful of us remain, brother."
Veren sighed. "Then we have no choice. The Miasma must be released."
Thorek neat jumped at the notion. "The Miasma? But, brother..."
Veren dismissed him quickly. "We have no alternative. It's the will of Vaermina. And what about you, Brother Casimir? Are you prepared to serve the will of Vaermina?"
Lydia spoke involuntarily. "I've made my peace. I'm ready."
Veren nodded. "Then it's decided. Brother Casimir, you must activate the barrier and release the Miasma. Let nothing stop you. Brother Thorek, we must remain here and guard this Skull with our lives if necessary."
Thorek gathered his gall. "Agreed. To the death."
Veren too, was ready, and stood prepared to guard the Daedric Skull. "Then let it be done. Farewell, my brothers!"
Immediately, Lydia's feet carried her through the Hall and past a warzone where Orcs challenged the Cultists. She found herself maneuvering through blasts of lightning, tight nooks and crannies, and through falling rubble.
She heard various shouts and wrathful clashing f steel and the unmistakable sound of tearing flesh and breaking bone surrounded by the wails of fear and turmoil. Lydia felt horror that she knew wasn't her own; it was Casimir's. Whoever this 'Casimir' was. She had yet to see Erandur in the tower. Maybe the coward already fled the scene?
Lydia really did not trust him. Whatever was waiting for her at the end of this Dreamstride, she would find some way to survive it. Vaermina would not own her,
"Once you have reached the end, you will be able to take the soul gem on the nearby wall that is maintaining the barrier, thus removing the barrier and allowing us access to the rest of the ruin." Erandur's voice ran in her mind. How was he doing this?
Lydia's body continued to move involuntarily, and she came upon the small vestibule near the top of the tower, where indeed a soul gem was perched on the nearby wall to her left, feeding its power to the violet barrier that obstructed them. She then headed to the inside of the vestibule, and pulled a chain, causing a loud hissing noise to resound from the inner sanctum as a purple mist began to engulf the area, descending upon cultist and orc alike, making them fall to slumber.
Lydia felt a shockwave fly through her mind and was immediately pulled out of the experience in a rush of powerful energy, and landed on her knees. The world was no longer covered in a fog, but there she stood, inside of the vestibule, beneath the pull chain. No longer in the Alchemy lab, but instead exactly where the Dream ended. She scrambled quickly to find the soul gem, and realized it was just behind her.
Lydia quickly pulled the gem out of its stand, and quickly the barrier dissolved.
After releasing the Miasma by pulling a large ring on a chain on the wall just to the left of the barrier, Lydia took a moment to finally collect her bearings. She was in another person's mind, and they were guiding her for after the process. The Nord had so many questions to pose.
In that moment, Erandur came running with Cura in tow. "It... it worked. Mara be praised! You vanished after drinking the Torpor and materialized on the other side. I have never seen anything quite like it." Erandur shuddered.
"What was it like in there?" Cura wondered excitedly.
"It was remarkable... As if I were really there." Lydia was still a bit dazed, but amazed as well. Still, she did not like being used for such a potentially dangerous task with no rewards. Cura laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "And you, Elf... I heard your voice."
"How I envy you. I can only imagine the excitement of seeing history through the eyes of another! Sadly, I am resigned to just reading of its wonders through my research of the Skull." Erandur shrugged. "You heard my voice because you were inside my memory; I am Brother Casimir. I instructed you on what to do once you came back to reality, and it all worked out quite well."
"Are you mad? I could have died!" Lydia snapped at him.
"I thought I was clear regarding the dangers that awaited you within the Dreamstride. However, this hardly matters any longer as you appear to have exited unscathed." Erandur was growing tired of Lydia's brashness.
"You-" Lydia grit her teeth. "you're a coward! I'm sure you could have done it yourself, but you put me in it instead because you were too afraid of the Dreamstride. Afraid to possibly face Vaermina again? Huh?"
"I figured after experiencing it, you would understand, literally walking a mile in my shoes." Erandur sneered. "But I suppose you're more shallow than I thought."
Cura cut in, attempting to keep the peace. She pushed the pair apart. "We can discuss it later. We need to proceed."
"Indeed. My reverence for Vaermina's machinations should not take precedence over our mission. My apologies. The inner sanctum lies ahead. We must reach the Skull and put an end to Dawnstar's troubles. Lead on, my friend." Erandur stated, gesturing forward. Cura obliged, but Lydia still did not trust him, especially after hearing him state that he revered Vaermina's machinations.
The group followed through the now-open path and continued downwards through the tower. They came upon the dormitories, where it appears the greatest damage was done; the bodies were rotten to the core down there; dead before the miasma even reached most of them, from the Orc invaders who now turned their sights on the group.
"FUS!" Cura knocked them off-kilter, rocking the lot of them like a ship in a storm.
She then proceeded, with Erandur and Lydia, to lay waste on the invaders.
Cura's confidence was used against her, however, when she misplaced her shield and was slashed on the side by a war axe, causing her to fall backwards, open to more attacks from the enemy, who Lydia immediately stepped between.
Lydia shoved her sword through the Orc's face, and Cura rushed forward and clubbed the oncoming one who was about to impale Erandur with his greatsword. When the carnage finally ended, Erandur began to look at the dead Cultists around him. A sad sense of nostalgia fell upon the Dark Elf.
"They were my family, once..." he spoke sadly. "Perhaps they weren't the best of people, but they deserved better than this."
"I'm sorry..." Cura sympathized as she healed their wounds with a spell. The young Breton could not understand how terrible he must have felt in this moment, his family taken from him by their mortal enemies, left here to rot. She tried to comfort the morose elf, but Mara had already worked on it. "I wish there was something we could do..."
"It is well, my daughter." Erandur spoke formally. "Once this is over, I will give them a proper burial. They deserve at least that." The Dark Elf appreciated her kindness in this dark time. He could see why she was partial to Stendarr, but he felt that Mara might be more suited to the Breton.
Lydia waited impatiently near the doorway, and Cura went to meet her there. Erandur noticed and quickly hurried onwards, remembering why he was there. After some walking through the dilapidated halls, they eventually reached the open chamber again, where they saw it. The Skull of Corruption. It was even more hideous up close, and its dark aura was powerful and grueling to the soul.
"Th-that's it..." Lydia shivered, pointing at the Skull. "We have to destroy it!" She readied her weapon.
"Don't be silly! A sword can't destroy a Daedric Artifact!" Cura exclaimed at Lydia. "Only the power of the Aedra can do it!"
"Couldn't you pray to Stendarr and have him smite it or something?" Lydia rambled ignorantly.
"No... only the Keepers of the Vigil have the authority to do so." Cura explained. "And I really don't want to bring that thing into the Hall of the Vigilant for Keeper Carcette to deal with."
"Then we'll see if this 'Priest of Mara' is at all worth his salt." Lydia sneered as she gestured towards Erandur, who did not take kindly to her remarks.
"Don't worry; the Keeper will never have to see it." He reassured Cura. "It's not leaving this sanctum. I aim to destroy it right here, right now."
"You're not destroying anything, traitor!" A voice called out from behind the shrine. The two elves from the Dreamstride came running out with their Ebony daggers drawn, both giving a dark glare to Erandur, in particular.
Erandur processed it for a moment when a flurry of emotions hit him. "Wait... Veren... Thorek... you're alive!"
Veren sneered angrily. "No thanks to you, Casimir."
Erandur shook his head. "I no longer use that name. I'm Erandur, Priest of Mara."
Cura looked at Erandur for a brief second as she stood by his side. She could see that he was dreading this encounter. Small beads of sweat ran down his gray cheeks.
Veren corrected him. "You're a traitor. You left us to die and then ran before the Miasma took you."
Erandur, once Casimir, decided to confess his sin before them all. "No. I... I was scared. I wasn't ready to sleep."
Veren scoffed, and Thorek shook his head disapprovingly. "Enough of your lies! I can't allow you to destroy the Skull, Priest of Mara."
Erandur sighed. Why did it have to come to this? "Then you leave me no choice!" He held up his Elven Mace, ready for combat.
Cura held up her shield and planted her feet on the ground. She then pushed herself forward and shield-bashed Thorek, who was about to attack Erandur. When he recoiled, the fool attempted to blast the Breton with lightning; a sensation she was growing accustomed to in this place. Cura simply walked through it and hit him across the face with her blunt weapon, knocking him to the ground.
"THOREK!" Veren exclaimed, drawing Erandur's eye towards his fallen friend. This distraction was what Veren needed, and according to plan, he stuck his dagger in Erandur's chest, causing an audible and pained gasp to escape him.
Lydia surprised Veren, as he had not noticed her presence, and the Nord rushed forward, sword driven through his chest, and she pinned him against the wall in a violent charge. Veren wailed in that moment, and began to throttle against the wall to try and escape, but there was no escape to be had.
"May you... all... rot... in... Oblivion..." Veren spat as his life slowly seeped away, down Lydia's sword. She yanked it out of the wall and out of the body of Veren.
Erandur managed to hold on long enough for Cura to heal his lethal wound; though he was unsure if he wanted to be healed at this point when he looked down at his friends, both joined the ranks of the deceased. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he managed to shut them out. "I... knew Veren and Thorek. They were my friends. Is this punishment for my past? Is it Mara's will to torment me so?" Despair settled in, and Cura pulled the Priest in for a gentle embrace as the sorrow overtook him.
"Mara would never torment you, Erandur..." Cura tried her best to comfort him. "Love is what she pours out to the world. What happened here today... was an absence of of love. Your old friends were trying to kill us."
"And had they succeeded, Dawnstar's fate would be sealed. You have a unique way of looking at things, my friend." Erandur slowly stood up and placed a gentle hand on Cura's arm as she slowly released him from her embrace. The young Breton nodded in response.
"It's time. The Skull must be destroyed. If you'll stand back, I'll perform the ritual granted to me by Lady Mara." Erandur shook the dust off his robe and adjusted the Amulet of Mara around his neck. He walked past Thorek's corpse and slowly approached the Skull of Corruption.
Once upon a time, he loved this thing. He admired Vaermina, so long ago. In those days, it was all he knew. He was raised in this very temple, and submitted to the will of his superiors, and performed vile actions against people, and experiments involving this Daedric artifact. When he found Mara in his pit of despair, he became resolute in atoning for his sins. It was all culminating in this very moment.
His fingers twitched. Eranndur was not a perfect man, but he had faith in Mara. Mara could overcome his failings and offer him redemption, as she promised her all those years ago when he studied in Bravil.
With incense set up around the Daedric Artifact, outside of its barrier, Erandur went down on his knees and clasped his hands together around the Amulet in prayer after doing a religious gesture with his right hand. "I call upon you, Lady Mara! The Skull hungers. It yearns for memories and leaves nightmares in its wake. Grant me the power to break through this barrier and to send the Skull to the depths of Oblivion!"
A golden light slowly began to illuminate Erandur, and he got back up on two legs. He outstretched his arms to the red barrier and the golden light began to arc from his fingertips and surround the barrier. It began to glitch and cease against the power of the kind Mara.
Cura was captivated; the Aedra did have some influence still, over their world! It was an amazing spectacle to see, and Cura was praying to Stendarr in that moment, as well, for aid.
That was when a dark, serpentine voice whispered into the air. "He's deceiving you. When the ritual's complete, the Skull will be free and then Erandur will turn on you. Quickly! Kill him now. Kill him and claim the Skull for your own! Vaermina commands you!"
"Be silent, Daedra!" Cura shouted back to the hissing voice. "I'm praying to Stendarr, not you!" She rebuked.
Lydia, however, ran towards Erandur, sword at the ready. "I knew it!" She exclaimed.
Cura's jaw dropped, and quickly she ran forward and tackled Lydia to the ground before she could interrupt the ritual.
"My Thane?!" Lydia shouted in surprise.
"It's a lie, Lydia! Don't listen to Vaermina!" Cura demanded.
"If his own Goddess would rat him out to us, I think there's truth to it!" Lydia sneered. "Let me go before I throw you off!"
"Not until the ritual is finished!" Cura exclaimed. "Of course Varermina would want us to stop him! She wants her demonic conduit functioning and stealing parts of the minds of people for the rest of time! Don't listen to her!"
Lydia shoved Cura backwards. "I'm sorry, my Thane, but I think you're wrong with this one! He will turn it against us! I don't trust him one bit."
"He is using Mara's power, Lydia! Just look!" Cura shouted as she hurried to her feet. She pointed to the golden light that fought the barrier. "Can't you see it?"
Lydia turned to look, and shook her head. "It's a trick!"
"Lydia..." Cura shook her head. "don't do this."
"He's been dishonest with us already!" Lydia shouted. "He's going to betray us and Soul Trap us in the Skull, or something! I can't let that happen to you! Nor to myself!" She ran forward in attempt to stab Erandur, but Cura reacted quicker.
"FUS!" Her Shout sent Lydia flying across the room, but with a softer impact.
The barrier was broken, and Erandur approached the Skull.
"Why would you attack me?!" Lydia snapped at Cura. "He has the-" A deep-seeded fear caused Lydia to stifle herself when the image of Erandur with the Skull of Corruption in his hands reached her.
"And now..." Erandur held the staff high into the air, and Lydia ran towards him to attack him then and there.
Then, with one prayer, Erandur dissolved the Skull of Corruption into black smoke enshrouded in the light of Mara.
Cura was joyful. "Yes!"
Erandur destroyed the Skull, just as he'd promised he would do. Lydia felt like a fool.
The Dark Elf watched the black smoke dissipate into the open air, and the tension all around moved into a gentle calmness and serenity was returned once again to the Pale.
Erandur fell to one knee and began to heave, trying to catch his breath. The experience had exhausted him. Cura laid a gentle hand on his back and helped him return to a standing position. "Forgive me if I don't appear relieved... this temple has taken its toll on me."
"Absolutely." Cura nodded. "But know that we've done a lot of good here; the people will have their restful nights back, and trust me, it will help everyone in the Pale to have their beauty sleep again." She was thinking of the Keeper, who was particularly moody these days. Sleep deprivation will do that to a person; Human, Elf, or anything in-between.
Lydia approached Erandur, reticent. "I'm not sure what to say to you, honestly." She shrugged. "I suppose I've misjudged you. I'm sorry." She extended a hand forward, for a shake, and Erandur took it.
"It's all right. I don't blame you, my daughter." Erandur stated. "You had cause to be suspicious, and my dodging the truth at every turn didn't help, either."
"No, it didn't." Lydia spoke flatly as their hands released. "But I am glad to see that you're a man-er-an Elf of your word."
Erandur smiked lightly. "And I'm about to offer my wotd again." As the three of them walked back to the entrance of the temple, past the false barrier of Vaermina, into the entry area with the destroyed benches and the Maran Shrine. "I'd constructed a meager shrine to Mara in the antechamber where we entered. My intention was to spend the rest of my years here, burying the past and praying for forgiveness. But instead, I wish to offer my services to you. If you ever wish to journey with me, I'll be here."
"Thank you, Erandur." Cura accepted his offer. "For now, though, I must go alone for my task. But if I ever find myself in need of another partner, and I'm in the Pale, I will come here, to Nightcaller Temple, looking for you."
She took his hand into both of her own. "Here's a parting gift."
When Cura released his hand, she left behind some Blisterwort and Wheat; ingredients for Healing Potions. Erandur smirked lightly. Cute.
Cura bid him farewell as she exited the Temple, and Lydia gave a courtly nod on her way out into the cold snow.
The pair walked past the dead Frostbite Spiders and into the light, gentle snowfall. Cura turned around to look at Nightcaller Temple once more. "And that is that. Dawnstar is free from Daedric influence."
"I guess the Vigil is going to have to move elsewhere, right?" Lydia scoffed in a joking manner.
"No... there's still the matter of the Shrine to Mehrunes Dagon atop the mountain... but when that issue comes, I'm sure the Keeper can handle it." Cura stated. "They'll be fine without me."
"They didn't seem to be doing that well when first I entered the Hall." Lydia called back to the past, before joining the Companions, when the Hall was only a meager roadside Inn, essentially.
"I've contributed enough." Cura shrugged. "They'll be fine."
Lydia nodded silently as the pair headed down the stone road. "My Thane, I'd like to apologize for back at the tower."
"About what?" Cura asked.
"When I shoved you aside and nearly ruined the ritual." Lydia sighed, a little ashamed.
"Oh, that? I've already forgiven you. Don't worry about it." Cura reassured her with a light smile. "What's important is that we've saved Dawnstar. Let's focus on that instead."
Lydia resigned herself to the Dragonborn's jovial mood this once. "All right. I can do that."
Cura pushed her by the shoulder in a playful manner and the pair laughed heartily as they continued on the path to the Hall, where Cura would speak of their exploits in the wee hours of the morning.
Cura had her first peaceful night's sleep in ages. Perhaps Vaermina had been attacking her across Skyrim, ifor months. Perhaps living in Dawnstar had given her prolonged exposure to the Skull of Corruption for perhaps years, unknowingly.
The Breton was all set, ready to embark on the journey at the start of her page in the book of Destiny, so to speak. She adjusted her cowl and her surcape, and fastened her mace onto her belt.
Lydia came down the stairs. "You're awake!" She rushed back up the stairs. "She's awake!" She addressed the others.
Cura walked up the stairs behind Lydia, a little confused, and a mite intrigued. As she reached the top of the stairs, Vigilant Tolan awaited her. He pulled Cura into a gentle embrace, to which she reciprocated.
"I can't believe you're leaving the nest." the large Nord was surprised by the overall set of circumstances, and was beginning to feel very sentimental. "It feels like it was just yesterday you were dropped on our doorstep... and now you're the Dragonborn. I never would have thought."
"I'll come and visit, don't worry." Cura scoffed lightly. "I'm not abandoning the Vigil-I'm just going my own way for a while."
"Indeed, but it is still a change we'll have to get used to, not seeing your bright, cheerful face around here as much." Brother Adalvald stated from the other side of the room as he approached with some bottles of Ale, meant for celebration.
Cura looked around and noticed that there was a small buffet with her favourite Apple Dumplings, some Sweetrolls, and some Jazbay Crostatas laid out. Some Vigilants were eating them vigorously.
"Is... it a Feast Day?" Cura asked, a little confused.
"No. It's your Celebration, Cura." Keeper Carcette stated as she entered from her room. "A celebration of your embarking on your quest. A celebration commemorating all that you've done for us. I know it's not much, but..."
Cura walked over and embraced the Keeper, tears of affection budding in the corners of her eyes. "Thank you... it's perfect." The Keeper really had no idea how much this small gesture meant to Cura.
The Keeper smiled for once. "It's not perfect yet. Come with me." She slowly detached from Cura and led her to the stables, where she gestured towards Joile, her gray and white-spotted horse. "You know Joile, yes?"
"Your steed." Cura stated as they approached the equine.
"Your steed now. For your Journey." Keeper Carcette stated as she pet the Horse's snout. "You won't find a finer Stallion in all of Tamriel."
"If you don't mind me asking, Keeper, why did you name him 'Joile'?" Cura asked in amusement.
"'Joile' was the name of a King of High Rock." Moric Sidrey interjected as he came up the Hill. "Specifically, a ruler of Daggerfall during the early-to-mid First Era. He led Daggerfall's forces against the First Orsinium for twenty-three years, though some scholars think it was for twenty-six. He also was at the head of a failed invasion of Hammerfell during the Battle of Bangkorai Pass, which was where he would be buried." Moric spoke as though he were reading from a History book.
"Huh." Cura decided to note that down. "Interesting."
Moric nodded. "I've a gift for you, as well." He stated as he handed Cura an object that was wrapped. "I had the Molag Bal Cultists' Elven Daggers melted down and smithed with Quicksilver to make this for you." He seemed excited to see her reaction. "Go on, open it!"
Cura was excited, and she tore the wrapping asunder, revealing a glistening, golden Elven Mace underneath. She held it up in t he air to catch the sunlight, and its intricate carvings were beautiful and evermore elegant the longer she looked. The hooked ridges at the head would make good for piercing armour, to be sure.
Keeper Carcette stared at the new mace, and immediately recalled the vision she'd had all those years ago of the Valiant Dragonborn wielding an Elven Mace. The Keeper felt sad nostalgia sweep over her, but she closed her eyes and smiled with resignation. The time has finally come.
"Isn't it amazing?" Cura asked, showing it to Carcette. The young Breton hadn't thought of the vision she was informed of at this moment; it was simply novelty for her.
"It is..." The Keeper said as she began to wipe tears from her eyes. If only they had more time. If only she could have been kinder to Cura all these years past. If only she hadn't constantly tried to obstruct her in every way.
"Keeper?" Cura became a little concerned. and rested a hand on her shoulder when she noticed the tearing up, but usually stoic older Breton.
"Looks like rain." Moric scoffed lightheartedly.
"Shut up, Sidrey." Keeper Carcette said as she looked away. "That's... that's not..."
It dawned on Cura, at last. This must be what parents often went through when their children would move out, so she'd heard. The Vigilant smiled. "Don't worry, Keeper. I will come back to visit, of course. I'll still accept missives and letters."
"I know you will. You always would." The Keeper wiped the corners of her eyes as her tears began to sting in the cold air.
She quickly scrambled to stop herself from crying as the others came outside, as well. Vigilant Tolan and Brother Adalvald went outside to see Cura off.
"Best of luck out there, Cura." Vigilant Tolan said. "Always remember; sometimes if a fight isn't worth it, you can run. You're not a full Nord. Don't let the pride take your life; this Province needs you alive."
Brother Adalvald nodded in agreement as he approached to give her one final embrace. "Take care of yourself, and always keep Stendarr in your heart. You'll never be led astray." He handed her a few Healing and Magicka Potions, as well as an extra Apple Dumpling that he managed to sneak out of the Hall before the others could devour it.
Lydia came outside as well, and Cura flagged her. "Er-Lydia, a moment?"
"Yes, my Thane?" Lydia approached, awaiting instruction.
"I'm going alone to High Hrothgar." Cura informed her. "But I need you to do something important for me."
"No, my Thane. I can't allow that." Lydia protested. "Going alone would be dangerous."
"Yes!" Keeper Carcette interjected. "The world out there is-" and then she realized that she was treating Cura like a helpless child, as she had in the past. "...er...it would be smarter to go with Lydia. At least until you reach High Rothger, or whatever it's called." She was not a native speaker of the Nordic language, clearly.
"High Hrothgar." Vigilant Tolan corrected her.
"Yes, High Rothger. That's what I said." Keeper Carcette raised an eyebrow and then turned back to Cura, pleadingly. "This isn't an order from me; it's just practical advice."
"I suppose you're right." Cura shrugged.
"What did you want me to do, my Thane?" Lydia asked her, on behalf of all listening.
"The Glenmoril Witch's head." Cura stated. "I need someone to bring it to Jorrvaskr, for Kodlak Whitemane."
Keeper Carcette immediately understood what she meant. "Very well. Moric, you can be the one to deliver it."
Moric was surprised in the moment, but accepted it. "All right." He walked over to Cura, who slowly handed him a wrapped parcel. He did not even want to look inside to see it. "I'll have this there by the Midday."
After all, they did have horses now, thanks to Cura.
A moment of silence passed. This was it. A sad feeling filled Cura. She was hesitating, now that the moment has finally come, and she began to tear up as well. It was an emotional moment for all involved. She hopped atop Joile, and gave the horse a gentle pat on the side of his neck, and Lydia climbed on top behind her. Cura pulled the reins lightly, and the horse slowly began to walk.
Cura turned around to see Keeper Carcette, Moric Sidrey, Vigilant Tolan, and Brother Adalvald, as well as some of the other members of the Vigil waving to her. The young Breton waved back to all of them, bidding them a tearful farewell for the time being. She lightly kicked the horse, and Joile began to gallop down the hill, leaving the Hall behind and the people slowly fading off into the distance.
Cura kept her head down, and she choked down a few sobs as she rode the winds.
Lydia pointed South East to her, and that was where they would go.
To High Hrothgar.
