"Petition to House Tharn, Vol. 68
by Unknown
Pelan: "Looks like we're executing even the prisoners not on the list now ... I've even heard some of them claimed to be Periff. Just ... what are we executing?"
Amicus: "You doubt our faith."
Pelan: "Can you at least tell me what they were jailed for and where they were from?"
Amicus: "No one knows who they were or where they came from. But something we do know ... That their eyes do not see the truth we want them to see. What greater sin could there be in the eyes of the Alessian Order?"
Pelan: "I don't understand. I demand an explanation."
Amicus: "The 'Prisoner's' fate is a grand thing. No one can resist its flow. When they follow the prophecies written in the Books of Stars and Frost, then such a future will surely come true. No matter how much we dance on the gradients, they would simply create a world they want, in each and every moment."
Pelan: "Isn't that precisely this Shezarrine we've been looking for? Why kill them?"
Amicus: "They do not see us. In turn, we refuse to see those who refuse to see us."
Pelan: "They're here to save us! How many times do you think you can repel their help?"
Amicus: "Their 'salvation' would destroy what we've built up through all these years. It would destroy us. That is why we reject them. We don't want that freedom of theirs."
Pelan: "All we've built up so far is a pile of corpses! What value do we truly possess? We should be glad to give up our lives, to pay for all this with our bodies!"
Amicus: "We require no forgiveness. We require no punishment. We've already decided to reach heaven even if we have to drown all of Nirn in a sea of blood and excrement."
Pelan: "Isn't that exactly what hell sounds like?"
Amicus: "No, this is our heaven. We were born with no other choice but to reach it by violence."
Pelan: "I disagree. We still have the word."
Amicus: "The word we have is of our God, and his love is violence itself. Law, morality, all other norms ... nothing but verbal violence. We mortals are the proof of the folly and arrogance of the Gods. And so, we wish to make this right."
Pelan: "But I still think ..."
Amicus: "Give it up, my friend. Our power and authority certainly came from the Gods. But our rule did not ... for all crowns are illuminated by the Stone of Fire.""
Author's Note: for this battle, "Vigilant OST V.S. Mary" thanks for reading!
Cura closed her eyes for a moment to think. She just needed a moment to think! The last thing that she wanted was to kill this poor woman. However, the sentiment appeared to be one-sided at this time. Perhaps this was why it was often called the "Art of Mercy." It was no easy route to take.
She dodged a blast of blood energy, as it were - a red beam travelling from Mary's hand towards her. And then another, and another. Each blast was withstood by Spellbreaker.
Mary raised her hands to the air and called forth several Dark Ones, who all rose up from the waters surrounding Cura. The woman seemed more like a puppet to the dark energies flowing in Coldharbour; empowered by its shadow, enthralled to her own nightmare.
It was a simple fix - Cura cast a Flame Cloak onto herself, which caused both the Dark Ones and Mary the Dark Maiden to panic by the sight of the whirling flames.
Cura struck one of the Dark Ones who was nearest to her in its attempt of escape. Once, she knocked it to the ground she placed a knee on its back and clubbed his head with her mace, killing it.
A swarm of tentacles was spat at Cura from a Dark One across the arena, and the writhing mass clung to her side, picking at and stabbing her. The Vigilant howled in anguish and manually yanked them out of her flesh. She was quick to raise Spellbreaker to block another incoming barrage.
Mary clenched her fist and masses of blood-red tentacles burrowed up from the waters, streaking towards Cura in a horde.
Cura remained on the defensive, holding Spellbreaker. "I don't want... ng! ...to fight you!" she was pushed back by the attacking stream.
Mary fired another blood projectile at her, in the form of writhing tentacles. "Stop trying to deceive me. I know what you Ayleids are about! You've come to capture me. I won't come willingly!"
Cura rolled out of the way of the projectile, but one of the tentacles snagged her right ankle and tripped her. Then one of the previously-fled Dark Ones came hurrying over now that her Flame Cloak vanished, and smacked her head down against the ground.
The force was a stunning shock to Cura, and the creature pressed her face down into the dark waters, holding her there.
Unfortunately for the Dark Ones, Meridia had that foresight; the armour allowed her to breathe underwater. Unaffected by the substance, Cura loosened her grip on her mace and instead reached a hand backwards and touched the fiend's side. With her free hand, she cast Chain Lightning on the beast, and it released her on impact. The lightning trailed onto another and another, as the others returned to fight.
Cura swept her mace back into her hand, feeling it under the water, and spun around with haste to break her captor's left kneecap.
When the Dark One went down, Cura flung herself over it and pushed her mace handle down horizontally to close its mouth before it could spew blood on her.
Dark Kids kept ramming into her, eventually causing her to stumble and fall into the ankle-deep water.
Another mass of eyes blasted her with a dark energy, causing a searing pain to wrack her body.
Cura cast Stoneflesh on herself, and her flesh hardened into gray stone. The enemies bounced off her solid form.
Cura responded to the constant attacks with a Flame Cloak, driving them from her in a hasty escape.
Mary retorted with flames of her own, blasting a wave of fire from her person towards Cura.
Spellbreaker took the hit, but Cura was caused to flip backwards through air and landed back on the ground, on her side.
"Didn't you... hear me?!" Cura shouted over the screeching of the monsters and writhing of the tentacles. "I said I am not here to fight you!"
Mary paused for a moment and hovered in the air above. She looked down at Cura and recognized that she didn't seem to be attacking her back. The scorned woman waved a hand, gesturing for her followers to back away.
"You're not here... to kill me?" Mary questioned. "Then, you're here to take me for a slave, I suppose."
Cura shook her head. "No. No! You have it all wrong! I came down to stop the plague, and to save you!"
"I am well beyond the point of salvation." the Dark Maiden lamented. "Slaying me is perhaps the kindest thing you could do at this point. Do what he was too kind to."
"'He?'" Cura asked.
Mary refused to elaborate. Rather, she explained her grievances. "In life, all I ever wanted to do was serve the people of Nirn. The Ayleids burned my city to the ground, and I was taken as a..." she closed her eye and clenched her left arm. She turned away from Cura in that moment. "...toy. A toy for their King and his..." the shame that surged in her nearly prevented her from continuing. "...urges. I was the only survivor."
Cura shook her head. "You don't need to revisit that. I can see the memories cause much grief. I promise, Mary. I'm not an Ayleid. I am allied with Meridia, but I have no connection to the Aurorans."
Mary had no response. She turned her back to Cura, and the abominations surrounding them simply watched. "You said you've come to end the Thrassian Plague, and to save me."
"That's correct." Cura admitted gladly. She was trying her best to diffuse the situation.
"Why?"
Cura was stunned by the -word question. "'Why?' Because it's the right thing to do. There is enough suffering in Coldharbour as is."
Mary raised her hands. "Calamity. All there is is calamity. These creatures you see before you were Alessian Priests, and followers of their faith. The very ones who threw me upon a pyre. This is their punishment for that sin. If you truly are of Stendarr as you claimed, you understand the importance of justice!"
The dismay the woman felt was palpable, through the air, through the water, through the disgusting tentacles and bulbous eyes. It was the manifestation of her immense despondency. She was a woman who was searching for hope, and came to the realization that it was nowhere to be found, long ago.
Cura had to find some way to encourage her to move forward. Some way, somehow. Perhaps then, this nightmare will end.
"Were they the specific individuals who did it, or just guilty by association?" Cura asked.
The Dark Maiden seemed to pause as she considered Cura's words. "I... I don't... I don't even know anymore! I don't know!" With a wail of anguish, tentacles came up from the ground surrounding Cura and attempted to grab her as the woman cried aloud.
She was barely in control of herself; let alone these Daedric tendrils.
Cura found herself faced once more by the foes which surrounded the arena. She had little patience for them, and even littler choice in the matter. She created a Rock Wall from the ground beneath her and raised herself up. "Mary! Listen to me! I want to help you! I want to reunite you with your son! Varla!"
The Dark Maiden froze upon hearing that. "M-my son...?"
Cura tossed a Fireball downwards at the Dark Ones trying to climb her Rock Wall to deter them, with great success. They fled immediately once the embers kissed them.
"You lie! He cannot be here in Coldharbour!" Mary shouted at her in disbelief. Her sadness warped into horror as her heart was crushed in her ribcage. She suppressed it quickly and lashed out in anger.
"I'm sorry..." Cura spoke softly. She knew that it was troubling news to hear. But she would tell her of it regardless. Her remaining in the dark about it forever must have weighed her down as well.
"YOU LIE!" Mary wailed as she sent forth another barrage of tentacles, burrowing up from the ground, and surrounded by flame. The underground pit was illuminated with the warm orange glow of flame as they formed walls in the surrounding area. The heat was unbearable. Cura cast a Frost Cloak around herself to allow for the cooler air to push back the heat somewhat.
"I'm not lying to you!" Cura pleaded for reason. With a swift twirl to her right, she pivoted around a stray ball of dark energy fired by one of the abominations in the surrounding area, "He's at Fort Welkynd, above ground. Very tightly Southwest of here! I want to take you to him!"
The Dark Maiden stopped what she was doing and regained a sense of calm once she realized that Cura was serious about what she was saying. The attacks began to calm themselves as the tentacles pulled back. The Dark Ones followed as well. Mary simply stared at the Vigilant from above and touched her collarbone. A myriad of doubts plagued her thoughts, but she wondered: what if it is true? What if...
What if she could see him? What was he like now? Did he even know who she was? Had he been killed as a child?
Her child was only six months old when he was taken from her.
The tentacles screeched and began to slowly recede into the walls, and the eyes began to close. The dark throne of eyes and tentacles began to melt into a black sludge on the ground and spread out several feet. Before Cura's very eyes, Mary began to become enveloped in light and she slowly began to recede to her natural form as the evil was washed away by her own tender heart. The darkness in the room grew lighter and lighter as her heart began to warm again.
"You speak the truth." Mary reached out to Cura, who approached her quickly. The woman's knees were weak and she almost fell forward due to fatigue, but Cura caught her and held her upright.
A paladin would never let a maiden collapse into filthy water. It was one thing she'd been taught from a young age - a maiden, a child, an elder - they should be handled with care. It was, after all, what separated a Paladin from a Sellsword in most cases.
"Of course; I told you why I've come. I'll bring you to Varla, but I have other reasons for being here, too." Cura informed her. "How can I get rid of the plague?"
Mary looked around the Bed of Corruption, and pointed to the water, which seemed to be losing the filth therein. "I... I... I need to share something with you. Once I do, the plague will vanish. Someone must know what happened to me. My peace of mind will cause the plague to disappear, as this nightmare will no longer have its dreamer."
"Of course. Whatever must be done. Show me." Cura requested softly.
Mary raised a shaking hand and touched Cura's face under her hooded helm. She closed her own eyes and gained a calm stillness. Thoughts; memories of ages past were transferred from her mind to Cura's.
"My death was undeserved... I want someone to know that."
A vision of the past: Cura saw, from across a hallway, Mary within the confines of a small holding cell. The air was dry, but frigid. The interiors were dark, gloomy, and miserable. Her cell had no water to drink - just a bucket and some straw, where she lay upon, resting. Her faint sobs filled the air as she held her arms close to her body for warmth. Her face was tucked into the straw and her knees were withdrawn into her chest.
Mary's arms were covered with gangrene cuts and bruises. Her arrest hadn't been a gentle one. How long she'd been in the cell, Cura couldn't say.
One of the poor woman's eyes was cut through, as well. A sentiment that gave Cura some terrible memories. She walked over to the cell to take a closer look, but was startled by the opening of a door to her right.
At the far end of the hall, a figure came walking in. It was what looked like an older man with white hair wearing red and gold robes with a pointed hood. He was evidently an Inquisitor of the Alessian Order.
When he approached the cell door, he trembled lightly as he addressed the accused. "Are you... Are you the one they call Mara?"
As soon as Cura heard his voice, she was almost floored. That nasalness, that smug undertone in every word... It was Inquisitor Pepe!
"How dare you appear in the likeness of our lady Alessia? Are you mocking us?" Pepe threw his fear aside and wore a mask of offense.
Mary slowly sat upright, but had nothing to say for herself - for what could she say that they would not twist against her?
"Good, stay silent. You have no right to speak as it is." Inquisitor Pepe tilted his nose up at her.
Cura attempted to smack him in the back of his head, but it was a mere light breeze from his perspective.
"Why in Oblivion would you interfere with us now? Don't you know what will happen to you tomorrow?" Inquisitor Pepe continued. "I don't know who you are... and I don't care. It's beside the point. Tomorrow, I will burn you at the stake like the witch you are." His lip curled up into a smug grin. "And those kissing your feet today will throw you on the fire tomorrow, at my merest gesture. You know that better than I, even."
Mary remained silent and Inquisitor Pepe held up a Red, Ovular Stone before her face. "Look at this Stone. Can you turn this Stone into bread? Of course not, how could you? "Man shall not live by bread alone." Wasn't that what you said? And as was once the case with Shezarr's creation, the Daedra turned against you in the name of this bread."
Mary had already resigned herself to the fact there was no way out. She didn't know what he was expecting from her: she was only a healer. A woman whose tender heart blinded her to the consequences of her actions. Perhaps if she knew she was going to end up like this, she would have simply resigned herself to motherhood in an undisclosed shack in the forests in the mountains.
No. She had to go out of her way to show the love of Mara to the people who were lost by the Daedra. People began spreading rumours about her, believing her to be the goddess - or an aspect of her. And then the Alessians came, and they were not happy about this.
"How could you not have known that the masses would follow the Daedra in droves?" Pepe asked. "After all, Mundus is full of the starving. And it was them, shouting for bread and salvation, who tore down your Tower. I'm sure you intended to raise a new one. But it's useless. You will never complete even the foundations of the Tower of Fate." The Inquisitor appeared to be enjoying his foray into the 'moral highground' as he saw it. "If only you hadn't tried to build the Tower, you might have eased the suffering of the people. But you did not. And what did the people do? They came to us, the Alessian Order, crying that the ones who promised to steal the Heart of Shezzar lied to them!"
Mary swallowed some of her saliva. She was tempted to snap back at the vain Inquisitor, but fear held her back. The Tower was erected to reach the Aedra; it was to be a place where they could commune with the mortals. She and various other cultists of the Nine worked relentlessly, day and night, to build it. It was to be a symbol of the Aedras' triumph over the Daedric Occupants of the old world. After Umaril came for them all once more, as the Champion of Meridia, Pelinal returned as if from nowhere to take a last stand at the White-Gold Tower, which had been taken back by the Auroran forces. The years preceding it were hellish - the Ayleids that had survived the initial years of Belharza's reign came back with a vengeance, led by the Unfeathered.
Many innocents were lain to waste. Many women and children were murdered and taken for slaves of various kinds. Mary had been one such a slave, and was rescued by Pelinal mere hours before his final destruction at the hands of his foes.
Hope. The world was bereft of hope. Even the noblest of Knights were nothing but masked butchers.
The thought depressed Mary; the hopelessness; the futility. As far as she was concerned, she was already in hell. And Pepe sensed the tenseness in her. Again, he held the Red Stone up to her face.
"If you truly are Mara, then swallow this Stone. Then its fires will fade and this abominable tragedy will end."
She slowly withdrew, knowing that evil dwelled within that rock. She could feel it. Instinct kept her away from it.
"But you will not swallow it. For as soon as you deny its miracles, you also deny the Aedra." Pepe mocked her, drawing the Stone back to himself. "People would rather believe in miracles than in the Aedra. So much so that they create miracles of their own, and soon would even believe an Inquisitor like me."
Mary clenched her hands together, interlocking her bruised fingers on her lap. She lowered her head.
"You did not want to make people slaves to the miracle. Their freedom of faith was more important to you, was it not?" the Inquisitor questioned her motives, and even seemed to relent slightly - expressing pity for the poor woman. "Your love for the people was simply too deep. It would have been better if you hadn't loved them at all. They would not have to go hungry then. But neither your love nor their free will is important. Just this mystery, this Stone. Even if every last living thing has to betray their consciousness, they must submit to this Stone."
Mary turned her face up to look at him with a furious glare. Nothing good was going to come from that damned Stone. She tried to express the concern of it without words, and the awkward shift in the Inquisitor's movements told her that he knew it just as well as she did. What was he afraid of?
"We, the Alessian Order, have done just that. Even though we had to rewrite many of your teachings... We built our Tower on top of miracles, mystery, and authority. We released people from this ''freedom.' This free will that only brought them endless pain." He held his hands up towards the ceiling. "Therefore, we would be willing to tolerate even their sins, out of compassion for the weak... as long as they had our permission to do so. Is this not proof of our love for the people?"
There were so many blatant contradictions in all of it. Cura listened closely to what he was saying, but most of it seemed unhinged to her. The Stone he was obsessed with was obviously connected to Molag Bal - like a Soul Gem of some sort that the fiend used to capture people.
Mary finally had enough of hearing this, as well, and decided to defend her own actions. "But I..."
Immediately, the Inquisitor snapped. Gone was the flippant narrator, and thus awakened the wrathful apostate. "Silence... be quiet, witch. You may be able to fool the masses, but you cannot fool me!" Pepe slammed the palm of his hand against the bars with great, startling aggression, forcing the anger upon himself. For if he were not angered, how could he go through with this?
"We will burn you at the stake tomorrow morning. We will burn you as a witch, a heretic to Saint Alessia. But of course, you probably already know this." Pepe declared as an inflexible fact before turning around and leaving her alone in the cell.
Mary clenched the bars and slid down to her knees and cried harsh tears of resignation. Her fate was sealed. She would never see her child again. She would never see the sun set again. She would never see the Tower again. She would never see the gods again.
Cura wanted to unlock the door and free her, but it was impossible. Her hand merely passed through them like a spirit. Perhaps, it was because that was exactly what she was.
From the black shadows came the malicious face of Molag Bal. He approached the cell door, walking through Cura, and looked down at Mary in the cell with an expression of pity. It was highly uncharacteristic of him.
"For you to come to such an end, Mara. Regrettable." the Daedra remarked to himself and then the world around them faded to black.
Cura's eyes were opened. When the present time faded back into her sight, she looked at Mary, who clung to her for support. "That wretch!" the Vigilant exclaimed. "He cast the Gods away for a Stone. Not even for Akatosh and Shezzar... but a Stone. The Red Stone."
"The One and Shezzar were their original faith, but something changed. And quickly. But they maintained the front." Mary explained. "Everyone thought they believed in Akatosh... but it was all a lie."
"Did you know about that?" Cura asked her.
Mary nodded. "I did. I didn't know the depths of their corruption, but a tree that bears rotten fruit surely is rotten itself."
Cura kicked the floor with the toe of her boot angrily, splashing some of the water. "Bastards! That was why they killed you! You really were a threat to them! Not just to their doctrines, but to their image."
The thought of it caused Cura to evolve in her opinion regarding that Order. She found them obnoxious before; wicked, even; but hearing this now made her despise them. She walked with Mary leaning on her towards the chute. "I don't know much about the First Era, I'll be honest with you. I know as much as I see; and what I've seen has told me it was an abhorrent time."
"You... you're from the future?" the gentle maiden asked her.
Cura nodded. She stepped over some rubble and gently maneuvered the feeble woman over it with her. "Yes. I come from the Fourth Era. I'm the Dragonborn - the one who defeated Alduin and the Dragons. But... I don't think you'd know much about that."
Mary shook her head. "No. The only thing I'm familiar with is the term "Dragonborn." Are you like Saint Alessia in that regard?"
Cura pondered her answer carefully. "I suppose so. It's not something I asked for; I was simply born with a Dragon Soul from Akatosh. Part of his own blood flowed through my veins. And then I was slain, and my Dragon Soul is wandering Coldharbour. I must retrieve it."
"You mentioned that you followed Stendarr."
"Oh, yes. I was raised by Vigilants of Stendarr - they're the militant branch of the Temple, based in Cyrodiil. But I don't just follow him; I have a relationship with Mara, Arkay, Kynareth, Akatosh of course, and even the Daedric Prince Meridia." Cura confessed. "Meridia has a common goal with Stendarr's followers; to expunge the Undead from the world."
"How could you serve her, knowing who she once sponsored?" Mary asked with disgust as they reached the chute at last. "Do the... 'Vigilants' not consider you an idolater?"
In truth, it was a thought that disturbed Cura, the more she thought about it. She looked down at Dawnbreaker on her hip with a little bit of uncertainty. She had faith that Meridia was going to see her through this, but she began to question why. Why did the Daedric Prince take such an interest in her?
Cura silently ushered Mary through the chute and reentered the small room where Sir Amiel, Sabrina, Sir Casimir and Atima were having a conversation.
"Sir Caius was down here earlier as well, but he vanished without a word when I came. I remained with the child here." Sir Casimir confessed to his former leader. "I will be leaving here soon. Perhaps with me gone, he will decide to return."
"Still trying to evade us, I suppose." Sir Amiel clicked his tongue with annoyance. "Such a shame that he must be this way. We would be a great force if we would only join forces once more. Sir Juncan dwells in the Waterfront District. We could always gather him into the fold and seek out the others. It would only be proper that the Knights of the Nine back the Dragonborn in her pursuits."
Sir Casimir stood up and dusted off his cape. "I don't think so. That was a lifetime long passed. The Divines have abandoned us, and such, we should abandon the dream."
"You did that long ago; and sullied your honour." Sir Amiel reminded him.
Sir Casimir snorted aggressively and headed towards the hatch on the east side of the room and passed through it.
"I guess you hit a sore spot." Sabrina almost laughed.
Atima had become a small Khajiit once again, with golden fur. She wore a ragged pink tunic, and a pink ribbon behind her left ear. Her bright blue eyes scoped her pawlike hands. "Wow! Atima looks like Atima again!"
"Ah, look who's back!" Sabrina stood up from before the bonfire as Cura and Mary entered the small room. "I guess it went well."
Sir Amiel stood up as well, from his seat near the crates. "I take it this is her, then? Is the plague gone?"
Atima dropped her little doll and ran over to the weary woman. "Miss Mary! Atima is happy to see you again!" the little Khajiit ran over to her and wrapped her little arms around her legs.
"Atima... you're well. I'm glad." Mary gently caressed the cat girl's head. "When Cura reminded me of what I'd lost... I... something changed. Thinking about my child again... my heart beat again. I wanted the plague to be over, and it left."
Sabrina hurried over to Mary and began to examine her. "Hello, Mary. Do you know who I am?"
"Sabrina, the Healer from a faraway land, I believe?" Mary asked as the plague doctor began to examine her complexion and her physical form for plague signs.
"Yes. That's me. The one who gave ya air." Sabrina spoke through her birdlike mask as she looked at the flesh on her legs and down to her bare feet. "Hm. No black spots, so that's good. I don't know how it's just... gone. How in all the hells does that work? A disease ravaged this place for years, and now it's gone, just like that? That isn't how it works."
Atima laughed. "Maybe it works because it was Cura who did it!" she pointed humorously at the aptly-named Paladin and Cura merely rolled her eyes and chuckled in response.
Sabrina finished examining Mary and then took to Cura. "Wow... you're the picture of health! ...At least as far as a dead person goes."
Cura brought Mary over to the bench so that she could sit for a while, but she wanted to be further away from the bonfire. Cura apologized for her insensitivity, but the maiden took no offense to a kind gesture. She sat closer to the wall, and Atima joined her for the time being warming her with her soft fur.
Sir Amiel turned to Cura and gestured towards the weary woman. "What are we to do with her, Dragonborn? Surely she and the child cannot go with us. It is far too perilous."
Cura agreed. "Sir Amiel, I am going to bring Mary to her son. To Varla. I want you to bring Atima to the Mathmalatu Priory. It's the only safe place I can think of. And it's got a better atmosphere than... this." She gestured to their immediate damp, gloomy surroundings.
Sabrina was dumbstruck. "You're gonna bring her to Varla? Are you sure you know what you're doing? He's..." Cura gestured to Mary's presence, and Sabrina pondered whether or not she should blacken his image for her now. "...Yeah. You know."
"What will you do now, Sabrina? There's always room in my party for one more, if you want to escape Coldharbour." Cura promised.
"Boy, you're really adamant about that, aren't you." Sabrina was mildly amused by Cura's confidence. Though, given what Cura had just gone into and come out of, was it really her place to question her? She tapped her mask's chin a couple of times. "Well, I don't have anything better to do... so I suppose i could accompany you a while longer. Plague's magically gone now, so I'd just be sittin' around my Apothecary for no good reason. Hey, if you want me, you've got me, Cura." She extended a hand for a shake, and Cura took it.
"Welcome to the team, Sabrina." Cura expressed her pleasure. "I can't promise that the path ahead will be an easy one, but walking it will yield its own rewards. I'm certain of it!"
Cura walked up to Mary and Atima, and addressed them both with the intended plans. She asked Sir Amiel to help Mary walk and she would keep an eye open on travel. The Knight did as he was bid, and they left through the same hatch that Sir Casimir had left from. It led them to the upper floors, where they were greeted again by the wide chasm Cura had nearly perished in. The awful smell was gone with the plague, and all that remained was the smell of stagnant water. It was an ugly, moldy smell, but much better than what was present before.
After maneuvering over the boardwalk and through the labyrinthine wooden partitions, they passed a door and returned back into the slums. A light drop had them brought to the flooded housing area, where Atima made sure to stick close to Cura as she walked with a Candlelight hung over her head for the sake of safety as they walked over the rugged bridges and through bone chimes.
Eventually, they returned to the beginning area of the slums. When Mary saw the deceased, she felt a sense of guilt. They were Soul-Shriven, true, but her plague had reached them. Her misery harmed all of those people.
Could there be a way to make amends for this? She was unsure. Perhaps, in Coldharbour, amends did not matter.
Sabrina and Sir Amiel thought the same way, before. In a world without hope, the idea of it was absurd. Though now, they were beginning to see the opposite: perhaps Cura was right. Being in Coldharbour meant that any act of goodness; no matter how small; was valued sevenfold.
Once they reached the surface, Cura took in the stale air, which was better than the rot she'd dealt with over the last five or so hours. "AHHH!" she exhaled aloud.
Savos Aren and Mirabelle Ervine were alerted by her sound and dropped the barrier they were upholding outside the entrance.
"I take it all went well down below?" Savos asked before seeing the newcomers: Mary and Atima. "Ah; a Nedic woman and a Khajiit child. Interesting! Not what I was expecting to emerge, I will admit."
Mirabelle agreed with his point. "Indeed. It was strange enough to see a Knight of Stendarr walk out of there. Anyway, looking at the lot of you, I can see that the plague has been vanquished. Good work."
"Yeah - what a relief it is to be able to breathe again!" Sabrina reached for her mask and loosened it. When she removed the hood, hat and mask to reveal her face to the world, she took in a deep breath of air for the first time in ages.
She was indeed a Redguard - youthful, with light brown skin and medium-length hair as white as snow. Her eyes were a bright pink colour. A bright smile stretched on her face and she closed her eyes as she faced the black hole in the sky. "A lovely day today, it is. The air's disgustin' up here, anyway - but I still think I'd rather breathe it in than nothin'."
"Careful; now you're sounding like that nutty Sir Cadwell." Sir Amiel said with a playful tease. He'd seemed to have lightened up a lot from the sunken face Cura first met near the Priory. Seeing him exploring his sense of humour brought a smile to Cura's face, as well.
Sabrina chuckled at the Knight. "Do ya feel it, Sir Amiel? Somethin'... somethin' is different. I'm not sure what it is... but I feel... lighter. Absolved."
Sir Amiel smiled to his new friend. "I do, Sabrina. I think it might be... hope. Hope that things can change for the better."
Sabrina pondered on his words. "Hope." She turned to look at Cura, clad in the white and gold robed armour of Meridia. The Dragonborn, come to their world in their hour of desperate need, to save humanity from their threats in this new era. The very picture of the Half-Elf was that of a Holy Figure one would see in a painting: the light illuminating the shadows - the candle in the darkness. The way Cura stood, before the orange-lit cliffs of Coldharbour, was very picturesque.
"Where did you say you were from, Cura?" Sabrina had to ask.
"Skyrim. The Pale." Cura happily recalled the image of her home.
"I see. So you have some of that Atmoran frost in your veins, eh?" Sabrina asked her to clarify.
Cura smiled upon hearing the playful imagery. "Yes; yes I do. I am Half-Nord."
"And Half-Ayleid?" Sabrina asked.
Cura shook her head. "Half-Altmer. Not Ayleid. They were way before my time."
Mirabelle brought them back on track. "All right - now that you've finished your business here, you can return to Varla and deliver the news of your success to him. Be careful, though. There is no guarantee that you can trust him."
Savos Aren was inclined to agree, as well. "And keep in mind his station - and what he's done to get there. Nobody rises so high in this realm by being kind. Never forget that. Keep your weapons and spells ready, should anything sour."
"Thank you. I will keep that in mind." Cura said as she led the way. About halfway there, Sir Amiel and Sabrina went their separate ways from Cura to bring Atima to the Priory safely. They were set to rejoin Cura at the Northeastern region later.
Savos and Mirabelle accompanied Cura and Mary to Fort Welkynd, where they had to fight off a few Sand Scorpions with well-aimed spells.
"I'm nervous, I must admit. From what I've been hearing, I... I am not sure what to expect." Mary admitted to Cura as they walked through the rugh dirt. Coming upon the Fort, Cura pointed to the statue of her and her wolf. "That's you, isn't it? The woman with the wolf?"
Mary found it in herself to limp over to the sculpture, faced adjacent to the large fort. She was surprised by the sight of it, and took in the details, from the hooded robe to the partial blindfold, to the stout wolf by her side. "Yes... yes, it is. And that wolf - it's Korn! The wolf gifted to me by Pelinal to guide me so long ago!"
Cura let the words slowly register. That was right: Pelinal was in the First Era. Mary was from the First Era, as well. Many of the people here were from the First Era. By that metric, she really began to feel like she stuck out like a sore thumb. At least, however, the gods were eternal.
As Mary touched the sculpture of the wolf, something strange began to happen: the wolf began to glow with a white light and the stone began to tremble and crack. Savos Aren quickly pulled her and Cura back and Mirabelle held up a ward in case of an explosion.
The stones burst off of it, and when the light faded, a noble white wolf emerged from the rubble. The people surrounding it could not believe their eyes.
Cura laughed to herself, recalling her fearful response to the dog statues next to Varla some distance away, near the Waterfront District. As it turned out, her suspicions were correct, but of the wrong statue.
"Korn? Korn! Is that really you?" Mary called out to the mystic canine, which, once she came to her senses, barked at her charge and began to pant happily. Mary immediately dropped to her knees and pulled the wolf into an embrace.
Korn placed her paws on her shoulders and leaned her head against hers. The canine's tail wagged joyously in that short time period.
"A wolf was sealed away in stone next to a statue? Odd, but not quite surprising, I must say." Mirabelle remarked as she looked at the statue of the maiden.
Korn licked Mary's face, and she wept tears of joy, being reunited with her old friend. "Where were you when the Alessians came?" she asked her companion.
The wolf squeaked sadly, and turned her head towards the statue, as if to explain the situation that left her abandoned. With the touch of her charge, she was freed of the petrification which bound her eternally.
"So they petrified your wolf." Savos Aren mused. "A dangerous form of Alteration magicks were used. That was no mere petrification spell. I'm not certain, but I think it goes without saying that
"Korn is not simply a wolf; she is an Aedric Wolf. Pelinal was accompanied by her when he rescued me. She was sent by Mara to guide and protect me." Mary explained as she gently caressed the tufts of fur on the wolf's face.
Cura was surprised and awestruck. "Wow..." so then, the Nords were justified in calling Mara the "She-Wolf" or the "Wolf Mother."
Mirabelle looked up at the Fort. "I suppose the Wolf may come in handy once inside. I can't promise you peace therein."
Savos reassured Cura when he noticed her concerned expression. "We can't accompany you inside, but we will keep a watchful eye out here. You can be sure of that."
Korn was ready to follow Mary and Cura inside. The wolf was elated to be able to move around again, and capitalized on it.
Inside the Fort, Mary was greeted with the ghastly sights therein of the dead Alessians. Though, she felt no pity for them; they brought it upon themselves... and everyone else.
Cura led her and Korn to the lift and pulled the lever. It was the lazy way up, but Cura thought it the better option opposed to exposing her to the carnage in the hallways. As they rode the lift upwards, Mary had a question to ask her.
"What will you do when you go to the East, Cura?"
Cura was self-assured. "I'm going to disrupt the barrier tower. I will reach Molag Bal, and kill him."
"I understand." the meek woman responded. "After all the evil he's wrought upon our world I can scarcely blame you."
Eventually, the lift came to a stop, and the doors opened. The staircase leading up to Varla's hall was a mere ten feet away. Cura was partly excited to tell him the news, and partly anxious to see how he was going to react. She crossed her fingers and led the way forward.
Cura entered Varla's Hall with Mary at her side. The woman was uncertain about her son, but was eager to meet him again. She clasped her hands together in front of her abdomen and took a deep breath.
Varla sat upon his throne with his two decrepit hounds at either side of him. He noticed Cura's approach first and grunted. He did not seem happy to see her. "You've returned in one piece. Have you stopped the plague?"
Cura nodded. "I have. It's over. Your domain is safe again."
Varla was silent. He tapped his fingers against the armrests of his throne. He pondered what his next course of action would be, until the newcomer caught his attention. He fixed his gaze on the woman behind her. "And who is this?"
Cura smiled and moved aside for Mary to pass with Korn at her side. Her footsteps were light and shaken, from millennia of disuse. As soon as the two of them looked at one another, even from a distance, he knew.
"Mother..."
Varla's voice softened upon seeing her. He had never gotten to know her, but the statues depicting the Healer of Mara resembled her greatly. And her wolf companion as well. He loosed his tight grip on the armrests of his chair and relaxed himself.
"Varla. It's me! It's me, my son!" Mary called to him as she walked forward with her arms outstretched. A serene smile awakened in her as she crossed the threshold of the room. Korn followed beside her diligently.
Varla stood up from his throne and removed his helmet, revealing his face to her. For a second, Mary paused as his features began to sink in. "You... you look just like him."
She should have expected it to be so, but it was no less shocking to her.
Varla's hounds began to growl at her, sensing the change in atmosphere. Their sudden hostility caused the poor woman to flinch and back away. She stood independently of Cura now, and her knees were still weak from centuries of disuse.
"Hey! Umar! Maril! Enough!" Varla barked at his hounds and the two of them settled down.
"Umar... Maril..." Mary repeated their names and a great deal of shame wove itself around her. "Then... you know. You know what happened. Who your father was."
"I do." Varla admitted.
Cura's eyes widened. Umar, Maril. Umaril? As in, Umaril the Unfeathered?"
Varla had said that his father was one of Meridia's Champions. But Umaril the Unfeathered, sworn enemy of Pelinal Whitestrake himself?
Mary sighed with a deep sense of sorrow. She held a fisted palm to her forehead. "I'm sorry, Varla. I truly am. I wasn't there for you growing up... they took you away from me and burned me at the stake! I... I was worried about what they were going to do to you..."
Varla sighed. "It's done. There is no use in having regrets about it now. Belharza raised me to slaughter the Elves... to make the child of Umaril into a second Pelinal. We carved a bloody path across the land in search of the heart of Shezzar."
Mary did not like the sound of that. She closed her eyes and turned from her son. She held herself in her own arms.
Varla continued, "We never found it. It was a fake, of course. After the slaughter at Malada I gave up my station as the Emperor's Elf-hunter and moved to an estate on the East coast. Then I discovered a new hobby."
"Please, gods. No..." whispered Mary, who feared the worst. She covered her face when thoughts of his potential depravity crept into her mind. Korn sensed her plight and pressed against her.
"I enjoyed the thrill of the Hunt. Humanity is nothing but a cesspit of hatred and lies. Bal the Bard was right." Varla continued and gestured towards his hounds. "Better left fed to the dogs."
Umar and Maril both joined him on either side and he patted both of their fleshless, rotten heads.
"Wouldn't you agree?" Varla asked. A cold stare shone upon his mother and onto Cura.
"No." Mary shook her head. "Men and Mer have much in common, Varla. We aren't that different. Neither of us deserve to be slaughtered like prey animals."
"Our similarities are precisely why both deserve death. If one side is garbage, one would expect better of the other. But if neither is better, then both fail." Varla explained. "Molag Bal has the right of it. Your Aedra lied to you, mother. Tell me; what good did your kindness do? It landed you in Umaril's grasp; a mere plaything for his perverse desires, forcing you into hours of anguish, bearing a child of perverse blood. It led you to the Alessian Prison Tower, where you were executed, and then ultimately to here, in Coldharbour."
Hearing these words broke her heart. Mary couldn't even bear the sight of him. "I shouldn't have gone with you..." she expressed her sadness and disappointment to Cura. "I... I should have stayed in the Bed of Corruption."
Korn, the white wolf, walked in between mother and son, creating a blockade, and Varla's hounds growled at it.
Varla was a tad more forthcoming this time around. "You're here now, mother. Are you saying you would rather spend time in a Plague-infected pit than with your own son?"
Cura quickly intervened, not liking where this conversation was going. "Maybe she just needs a little more time to get to know you. She has been alone for millennia, after all."
Varla ignored her words. "I asked you a question, Mother. Would you rather dwell in that filth than in my Fort with me?"
The question was direct, and very harsh. Varla was not fooling around.
"Varla..." Mary hesitated.
"Answer my question!" the Man-Hunter roared at her, his voice filling the room like a thundercloud, reverberating off the walls and ceiling.
Mary shrunk nervously. She was disgusted and greatly troubled by what she was seeing before her. "Cura is right. I do not know you. All I see is a violent madman. Just like... Umaril..." she wept as she spoke the truth.
Was there any way, any possible way in all the cosmos, that their fates could have been avoided? That they could have had a reasonably normal life on Nirn?
Varla paused for a few moments as the silence of the room spoke for him. He knew fully well that he was a cruel and ruthless warrior, and he didn't expect her to understand what he'd done, or why he'd done it. He walked back to his throne and sat upon it, and donned his helmet once more, prying it off the armrest. "Fine. I'll admit that I do have much more in common with my father, but I suppose that's for the best. It's what allowed me to thrive in our disgusting world... and in this one."
Cura was unimpressed with his attitude, but she had another matter to broach entirely now. "Okay, so... you said that if I cleansed the Plague, you would open the eastern border for me."
"I believe I said I would raise the portcullis and allow you to go east." Varla reminded her with a hint of smugness in his voice.
"Fine. Yes." Cura relented, not willing to argue over semantics.
"Have you been to the northeastern border?" Varla asked rhetorically. "Evidently not, because if you had, you'd know that I lied to you. There is no portcullis there." he said it with such venom and poise that Cura felt like an idiot in mere seconds.
Cura's memory was cast with doubt. No... he had to be playing with her! "You -"
"The plague should have killed you." Varla sounded annoyed when he said it. "I didn't expect to see you again, in all honesty."
"You rotten bastard!" Cura shouted at him furiously. He made her go through all that, and for nothing?
"You've been paying attention, I hope? That's exactly what I am." Varla responded dryly.
Mary was angry at this cruel jest, and spoke up on Cura's behalf. "She went through a great deal of trouble at your behest. If you promised to help her, you should!"
"She seeks to destroy Molag Bal. If there is even a one percent chance that it could happen, I will never allow it!" Varla waved a hand to the side dismissively. "Cura, you'd best get used to the Waterfront District, because that is all you will ever see, forever."
Cura immediately protested. "I never should have trusted you."
Varla laughed aloud and his voice echoed through the chamber and through the halls. "BAHAHAHA! Now you finally understand where you are! To trust is to be foolish." He reached his finger underneath the end of the armrest as Cura walked past Mary and Korn and approached the forum. He watched each footstep she took with anticipation.
"I tried to do things the right way. If I didn't bring your mother here, I would have torn you apart and gone my own way!" Cura regretted her decisions retrospectively, because she essentially succeeded only in trapping herself in a moral corner.
"You are weak." Varla shook his head. "Farewell, Cura. I suppose the only bit of gratitude I have is for bringing my Mother to me. You really didn't have to be so charitable."
Before Cura could react, he flipped a switch under the throne armrest, and the floor in front of the forum turned downwards beneath her feet, causing her to plummet into the dark abyss below. Korn reacted quickly, pushing Mary backwards.
Mary cried out her name, "CURA!" as the Holy Warrior descended into the shadows. She watched in horror as the floor seamlessly rolled back into its natural form. A hidden trap door for any to be tossed into the darkness. She looked up to her son with disgust. "How could you do such a thing? She was nothing but kind to you!"
"She was. See where it got her?" Varla pointed out coldly.
The holy woman shook her head with disdain for his evil nature. "You're not my son. You're... you're just a monster."
The words stung Varla, evidently, because his hounds roared furiously at her and began their charge. Korn reacted quickly, leaping in front of her owner and locked with Umar, biting into its flesh.
Varla immediately got up from his seat to protect his beloved hound, kicking Korn in the head. Mary quickly attempted to flee to the lift, but her weak legs gave out and she fell to the floor in front of the doors.
Maril raced past Korn and Umar to attack her, but Varla grabbed him quickly by the back leg. "NO! MARIL! NO!" He pulled the hound back and tossed him away from his mother. Something deep inside him possessed him to do that. He quickly stood between the undead dog and his mother and spread his arms wide protectively. "Stay away from her!"
Maril whimpered and slowly walked back over towards the throne with his tail between his legs. Umar continued to wrestle with Korn in the middle of the throne room before throttling the white wolf with his jaws clamped down on her back. Blood began to drip from the wound inflicted, and when Korn tore away from the monstrous dog, she began to limp nearer to the wall.
Varla reprimanded his hounds, and chastised them for their sudden revolt. The hounds left the room shamefully, leaving him alone with his mother and her wolf companion.
The poor woman trembled, expecting the worst, when she saw Korn collapse to the floor. "No- no! Gods, no!"
Varla walked over to the white wolf and examined the bloody bite wound on the wolf's neck. "Umar is a force to be reckoned with. Sorry about that."
To Mary's surprise, he picked the wolf up and brought it to her, and laid it on the floor. "Mother, you're a Healer, right? Heal her wound. I'll handle the other two."
His entire personality seemed to shift: it was jarring. One minute ago, he was a cruel, ruthless despot: and now, he seemed far more caring. Still, she would not argue it: she remembered where her "Buts" had gotten her in the past. She simply touched Korn's face. "Yes..."
Varla nodded and headed outside of the room to find and discipline his violent hounds.
She watched him leave the room and then returned to Korn, who was breathing heavily. "My old friend, we've only just been reunited. I won't lose you again. Never again." She felt a warmth grow within herself and a golden light manifested from her hands and surrounded Korn. She looked at the floor where Cura had fallen, and even though it felt futile, she still found it within herself to pray. "Mara, please, if you hear me... Mother, protect her."
Under the trap door was a steep fall, leading to a wide moat below ground, where old ruins surrounded the area. When Cura had landed in the water, she'd lost consciousness and drifted through the water and washed up on the underground riverbank leading up to it.
It was a small mercy, but a welcome one, all things considered.
Betrayed, used, and worn out, Cura slowly stirred awake in this underground space, next to a pile of skeletons: previous people who'd fallen, she could only presume. When she touched her left hip, something disturbed her.
Dawnbreaker was missing!
It must have fallen off pf her during her plunge. She frantically began to search around, and voluntarily dove under the murky water to see if she could find its glow under the mud. After about seventeen minutes of relentless rummaging, she concluded that it hadn't landed in the moat. She clasped her hands together in prayer. "Lady Meridia, Dawnbreaker has become separated from me. Please guide me back to your sword."
A voice came to her from beyond: "My sword rests upon the cliffs above - it will not be an easy task to retrieve it, but you must."
Cura looked around the ceiling, where she saw an upper level. A bright light illuminated from above, drawing her eye to a specific place. "Thank you." As she began to climb the stones, she could feel it in her heart again: why was Meridia helping her? Why did she help Umaril in the past?
Sensing these questions in Cura's heart, the goddess spoke again. "You do not like the fact that Umaril the Unfeathered was my champion in ages long past. Why should that concern you, Cura?"
"Because of what he stood for, and the evils he committed." Cura responded to the Daedric Prince as she clutched the stones in her hand and measured her footing.
"What Umaril did in his pastime was not my concern." Meridia admitted. "Just as I tolerate your Vigil of Stendarr and your befriending of that vampire, because you are my champion. You see me, where others look away."
Cura fell silent. So Meridia helped the Ayleids because the Ayleids sought her out.
"But what if I were a mass murderer?" Cura asked. "Would you still patron my cause?"
"Reality is a game, mortal. Learn to play, or resign yourself to becoming one of the pieces that is meant to be sacrificed." Meridia chastised her sternly. The goddess did not take well to being questioned.
"So we're all just toys to you, too." Cura's voice broke sadly as she pulled herself up onto one of the ledges. She could see Dawnbreaker's faint glow in the darkness. "Meridia, I thought you were different from the others."
The silence constricted her. For a second, Cura grew anxious that perhaps she'd said the wrong thing. That perhaps she'd scorned the Daedric Prince who was helping her.
Relief came when Meridia spoke to her again. "I am different from the others. As you know, I was one of the Magna-Ge. I became a Daedric Prince, yes, but I do care for the mortal world. How can my light reach the world when nobody will champion my cause? My influence grew upon Nirn, thanks to your efforts." She materialized there on the cliff above Cura, and extended her hand. Cura took her hand and Meridia pulled her up to the ledge, and walked to the place beside Dawnbreaker. "You were my only hope of revival on Nirn, Cura. Your contribution to my cause is not one I take lightly." she touched Cura on the shoulder as the Half-Elf drew Dawnbreaker from the stone. "You are very valuable to me. Just as your ancestors were."
When she'd heard that, Cura furrowed her brows. "My ancestors? What do you-" she turned around to question the goddess' implications, but Meridia vanished again before the question had sunk in.
She stood there, shining in the darkness for a few minutes as great uncertainty overcame her. With a quick observation of her surroundings, Cura looked to the river and elected to travel that way.
What else was waiting for her to discover in this realm?