"Harvest's End
by Tal Marog Ker
On the exploits and studies of Chimere Graegyn
Chimere, Master Sorcerer, Summoner, and Direnni retainer:
Chimere Graegyn was a retainer of the ambitious Direnni clan. The Direnni derived the bulk of their power from their traffickings with Daedra, a very profitable but risky path to success. Chimere was perhaps the cleverest and most ambitious of the Direnni summoners. He dared to scheme against Lord Dagon, and won. When his trick succeeded, Dagon was cast into Oblivion. However, in the instant of his betrayal, Dagon struck out against the mortal who tricked him. Chimere's pact assured that he would live forever in his home town among the happy voices of his friends and countrymen. Twisting the literal words of Chimere's pact, Dagon scooped up tiny Caecilly Island (a small island off the coast of Glenumbra) and hurled it into the void. All Chimere's friends and countrymen were instantly killed, though the sounds of their voices remained to torment Chimere's memory. Chimere was condemned to live forever, to grow progressively old and crippled with arthritis, and to contemplate the tragic consequences of his defiance of fate and fortune in cheating a Daedra Lord.
Armor of the Saviour's Hide:
Created by the Daedra Lord Malacath, this armor has the marvelous property of turning the blow of an oathbreaker. Chimere tricked Dagon into swearing an oath against the Powers which he had no intention of keeping. The Hide of the Savior turned Dagon's titanic fury long enough for Chimere to deliver his own attack—an incantation invoked upon Dagon's "Protonymic" (i.e., Incantatory True Name). Unfortunately, like many of Malacath's gifts, the armor is a mixed blessing. It also makes its wearer exceptionally vulnerable to magical attacks, so one should only wear it for particular occasions.
Dagon's Protonymic:
Chimere used Dagon's Protonymic in an incantation to invoke a sorcery that would gradually drain all of Dagon's power into the void. Chimere miscalculated, however, not realizing that Dagon's resistance could slow the draining of his power, even if it could not stop it. As a result, Dagon had the time to curse Chimere with a literal fulfillment of the terms of his bargain with Chimere. Rather than let his power drain into the void, Dagon cast it all into his curse. As a result, Caecilly Island was cast into the void, all its citizens were horribly slain, and Chimere was condemned to live forever among the ruins of his greatest ambition.
Rituals of the Hunt:
The Chapel of the Innocent Quarry: Chimere believes that Dagon had Caecilly Island established as the site of the Chapel of the Innocent Quarry to personally mock and torment Chimere. The green crystal structure was created by enchantments, and is the only building on the island erected since it was ripped from Tamriel and loosed in the void.
The Spear:
Supposedly the Spear of Bitter Mercy used in the Great Hunts could not be handled by any mortal or immortal save the ones sanctified to the Hunt and bound by its strictures. However, Chimere has determined that though the Spear's power is great, it is not unlimited, and that certain enchanted items—for instance, the Armor of the Savior's Hide, forged by Malacath—are sufficient to protect a mortal or immortal bearer from its maleficent energies."
"I hath been searching for thee for a while."
Inigo's eyes widened slightly as he took in the knight's words, her voice carrying an eerie calm that seemed to cut through the misty air. He kept his hand on the hilt of his sword, his mind racing with possibilities. "What do you want from me?" he asked, his tone cautious.
The knight stepped closer, her movements as silent as a whisper. "Draw thy sword, Khajiit." She unsheathed her long, sharp Daedric Sword. "If thou art the warrior they herald thee, thou would'st not fear mine confrontation."
Inigo's eyes flashed with determination and a hint of uncertainty. He slowly drew his own sword, its blade shimmering under the sunlight. The two warriors stood facing each other, their weapons raised high. The air was tense with anticipation, and the surrounding mist seemed to swirl and dance around them, adding to the mystical atmosphere.
The knight's gaze remained unwavering, her expression a mask of steely resolve. "Thy reputation precedes thee, Inigo. Proveth to me that thine tales are true."
Inigo's muscles tensed as he gazed upon the dread knight, his mind racing through the possibilities. He knew that his reputation, both as a skilled warrior and a fierce champion, rested on this confrontation. The knight's words hung in the air, her challenge clear and unrelenting.
He took a deep breath, steadying himself. His sword felt heavy in his hand, its weight a familiar and comforting presence. "Then let me oblige, you dark tin can."
The knight's eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a thin, unseen smile underneath her dark helm. "Bold words, Khajiit," she replied, her voice a low, rumbling growl. "But let us see if thy courage matches thy tongue."
Inigo's heart pounded in his chest, but he kept his face impassive, his gaze unwavering. The knight jumped off her horse and began to circle him, her movements fluid and predatory, each step calculated and deliberate.
"Kick her behind back into Oblivion, Inigo! You can do this!" Vilja cheered on her ally, though her voice squeaked with an undertone of worry.
Illia was tempted to conjure an ice storm, but Serana placed a hand over hers, and shook her head silently. It was Inigo's duel to fight, and they would not interfere.
The knight's sword sliced through the air, a blur of steel and shadow. Inigo parried the blow with a deft twist of his wrist, the clash of metal echoing through the misty battlefield. The knight's eyes gleamed with a malevolent yellow light, her face hidden behind the dark visor of her helmet.
Inigo's heart pounded in his chest, but he remained focused, his mind sharp and his reflexes honed by years of combat. He feinted to the side and brought his sword horizontally, aimed for the Knight's side, but the combatant, with years of experience under her own belt, thrust her cape forward, using it to disrupt the flow of battle.
Inigo's sword missed its mark due to the shifting fabric, and the knight quickly counterattacked. Her blade sliced through the air with a deadly precision, aimed at Inigo's exposed flank. Inigo twisted his body at the last second, narrowly avoiding the blow. The knight's sword bit into the ground where he had stood, sending shards of dirt and debris flying into the air.
Inigo took advantage of the momentary distraction to launch a counterattack. His sword flashed in the dim light, aiming for the knight's exposed arm. The Knight, clever and dark, moved further forward, so that his sword would be caught on her right pauldron. She then spun around in an arc and jabbed him in the left shoulder with the pommel of her sword.
Inigo's breath caught as the pommel connected with his shoulder, sending a jolt of pain through his arm. The knight's eyes, though hidden behind the dark visor, seemed to gleam with triumph.
"Thou art strong, I grant thee," she said, her voice low and gravelly. "But strength alone will not save thee."
Inigo gritted his teeth and shook off the pain, his mind racing with strategies and counterattacks.
With a determined grunt, Inigo pushed forward, his movements fluid and deliberate. The knight, her sword now a blur of deadly arcs and slashes, met him with equal ferocity. The battlefield, a tangled web of mist and steel, seemed to pulse with the energy of their confrontation.
The knight's cape fluttered behind her, a dark specter weaving through the mist. Inigo could sense her power, an almost tangible presence that pressed against his will.
With a pivot on her right foot, the Knight clutched her sword in both hands and brought it down with a firm slash, tearing into Inigo's Nordic armour.
The force of the blow sent shockwaves through Inigo's body, the armor buckling under the pressure. For a moment, Inigo felt the cold kiss of metal against his furry skin, but he refused to yield. With a roar of defiance, he pushed back against the knight's onslaught, his sword meeting hers in a clash of steel and sparks. "You will find that, like your ordinary housecat, I too have nine lives!"
The knight's eyes, though obscured, seemed to burn with a fierce determination. Her gaze remained unyielding as she twisted her blade, trying to find an opening. Inigo's deft footwork kept him just out of her reach, each step calculated to keep her at bay.
With a sudden lunge, Inigo closed the gap, his sword aimed for the knight's midsection. The knight deftly sidestepped, her blade slicing through the air, narrowly missing Inigo's chest.
Inigo's eyes narrowed as he sensed the knight's movements, anticipating her next strike. He feinted to his left, drawing her sword with him, and then, with a swift twist, he brought his blade down in a powerful arc. The knight's sword met his with a resounding clash, the force of the impact reverberating up his arm.
The knight's eyes glinted with challenge. "Hmm. Thou art the one who aided the Dragonborn in the raid upon the Northern Vampires? I find it quite difficult to believe."
"He did." Serana said from the sidelines. "I was there. Though, it wasn't just him. Lucien helped, as did I and the Vigilants."
The knight's gaze flickered momentarily towards Serana, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. Inigo took advantage of the distraction, pressing his attack with renewed vigor. The clash of their blades was like a symphony of steel, each strike echoing through the misty battlefield.
"Thou speakest of battles past," the knight growled, her voice edged with a mixture of contempt and respect. "But the present is where strength is truly tested." She lunged forward and swiped diagonally with her sword, causing Inigo to stumble backwards in a sudden leap. He tripped on his own foot and hit the dirt below.
The Knight pointed her sword at his chin.
Inigo's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat as the knight's blade hovered inches from his face. The cold metal glinted menacingly in the dim light, casting an eerie shadow across his features. He could feel the weight of her gaze, the intensity of her intent, and the gravity of the moment.
But Inigo was no stranger to danger, no stranger to the taste of death. "If I lose to you, I will paint my fur yellow and wear a Shellbug Chitin helmet for the rest of my life."
The knight's eyes widened in surprise, a rare smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Thou dost jest, but the gravity of thy words holds truth." She lowered her sword slightly, her gaze never leaving his face. "Very well, mortal. 'Twould be a shame to miss such a humorous fate. Let us see if thy words are as formidable as thy blade."
With a swift motion, Inigo sprang to his feet, his movements fluid and practiced.
"I can't understand a word she's saying." Vilja whispered to Illia on the side.
Illia nodded in agreement, her eyes scanning the battlefield. "She speaks in an archaic dialect, a relic of ancient times. It's almost beyond our understanding."
"If Inigo wins and the Knight turns out to be friendly, maybe I'll ask Lucien if he has a Dictionary she can borrow." Vilja proposed.
Inigo took a moment to steady himself. He regained his composure, drawing his sword with a sharp, decisive motion. "Let us end this then," he declared, his voice steady and resolute.
The knight raised her sword, her stance fluid and confident. "I hath seen a thousand battles, and a thousand slaughters more. Thy chances of victory are slim."
Inigo's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening around the hilt of his sword. The clash of steel echoed through the air, a symphony of clashing wills. Each swing of his blade was a dance, a fluid exchange of power and strategy.
The knight's eyes sparkled with a dangerous light, her movements as precise as a blade itself. "Thou art no match for me, young one," she declared, her voice carrying an edge of amusement. "thou art like a wolf pup; thou hast fangs and claws, but they are not sharp enough to cut past the fur of one older."
Inigo's eyes blazed with determination as he countered her words with a swift, precise strike. The clash of steel rang out, the knight's blade meeting his with a resounding impact. For a moment, the two combatants stood locked, their swords vibrating with the force of their collision.
"You underestimate me," Inigo retorted, his voice steady and unwavering. "I do not need years to beat you. I only need one thing."
"Oh? And what be this thing thou speakest of?" the Knight inquired as she pushed forward, causing Inigo's knees to buckle.
"An opening." Inigo declared, spitting into her visor. The knight recoiled, her eyes widening in surprise at the unexpected move. Inigo took advantage of the brief moment of distraction, pushing forward with renewed vigor. His sword sliced through the air, aiming for a vulnerable spot in her defenses.
The knight's movements were swift and fluid, leaping backwards in anticipation, but Inigo's resolve was unwavering. "Thou art a bold one," she muttered, her voice tinged with admiration. "Few dare challenge me with such dishonour."
Inigo's eyes locked onto the knight's, his gaze unwavering. "Honour is not measured by the length of one's sword, but by the strength of one's heart, and mine does not want to be torn out of my chest right now." he replied, his voice steady and resolute. The knight's eyes narrowed under the shadow of her helm, her lips curling into a smirk.
"Thou dost speak of heart, yet thy blade wavers." she retorted, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Inigo's eyes flared with determination, the knight's words igniting a fire within him. He focused on the present, on the clash of steel against steel, on the rhythmic dance of combat.
The knight lunged, her blade slicing through the air with deadly precision, forcing Inigo to duck beneath her attack. In the brief moment of exposure, he feinted a strike, aiming low at her midsection, forcing her to shift her stance. The knight's eyes narrowed, her breathing steady and controlled. She parried Inigo's strike with a deft flick of her wrist, her blade ringing with a metallic echo. Inigo's eyes locked onto hers, his movements swift and precise, each strike calculated to test her defenses.
"You are formidable," Inigo acknowledged, his voice steady and unwavering. "But so am I."
The knight's hidden lips curled into a half-smile, her gaze never leaving Inigo's.
The blue Khajiit sprung backwards, landing atop a large stone, and he drew Zephyr. He quickly nocked a Steel Arrow onto its string and loosed it. The arrow soared through the air, its path unwavering as it hurtled towards the knight. She moved with an almost ethereal grace, her body a blur as she sidestepped the projectile. The arrow whistled past her shoulder, embedding itself into the stone wall behind her with a satisfying thud.
The knight's eyes sparkled with amusement and respect. "Thou dost wield a bow with skill, but thy aim is not quite true."
"My aim is always true!" Inigo chuckled as the loose stones in the wall behind her shook from the arrow's impact and collapsed over the Knight. His foe, however, was quick to react, leaping out of the range of the small rockslide before they could hit her. The knight's laughter echoed through the open space, mingling with the distant trickling of the last of the falling stones. Inigo's eyes glinted with a fierce determination as he leapt off the stone he'd perched on, his feet barely touching the ground. He drew his Ebony Sword, its dark surface glinting menacingly in the dim light.
The knight, unfazed by the sudden turn of events, began to conjure an ice spell in her left hand. "Seeing as thou has't no issue in deviating from swordplay, I shall engage thee in kind."
Inigo's eyes narrowed as he watched the knight conjure the ice spell, her movements fluid and controlled. He could see the faint shimmer of frost beginning to form in her palm, and he knew that he had to act swiftly to counter her attack. With a swift and decisive motion, he charged at her, his Ebony Sword slicing through the air, aiming to disrupt her concentration.
The knight's eyes flickered with surprise but she quickly regained her composure. She fired an Ice Spike at his knee, causing him to buckle, and she swung her sword, aiming to decapitate. However, the blade stopped shy of Inigo's neck.
"Damn it." Inigo grunted in fear and frustration. "Why stop? Do it! I dare you!"
The knight paused, her sword hovering mere inches from Inigo's throat. Her eyes searched his, seeking the hidden meaning behind his words. She could see the defiance in his gaze, the challenge in his voice. For a moment, she hesitated, her grip on the hilt of her sword tightening.
Inigo's voice broke the silence, his words dripping with contempt. "You win, okay? Sheesh." He dropped his sword. The knight's gaze hardened, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. She could feel the tension in the air, the unspoken challenge between them. Slowly, she lowered her sword, but her stance remained defensive. "What game art thou playing, mortal?"
Inigo straightened up, his movements fluid despite the pain in his knee. "No game." he replied, his voice steady. "Just tired of this dance. We're both tired of this dance. You came here to kill me, and now I lose. But I warn you, if you kill me, nobody will be here to stop the Doom Strider, according to that egghead, Langley."
The Knight paused for a few moments, and her hard expression began to mellow out. She sheathed her sword. "'T'was not my aim to kill thee, Inigo."
Inigo's eyes narrowed, suspicion still evident. "Then what was your aim?" he asked, his voice laced with caution.
The knight stepped back, her posture relaxing slightly. "I sought to test thy resolve, to see if thou truly hadst the mettle to stand against the forces of darkness that threaten our world."
Inigo's expression shifted, understanding dawning. "And what did you find?"
The knight's gaze softened, a hint of respect in her eyes. "I found a man of uncommon strength and unwavering determination and clever cunning. Though thy words may have been laced with defiance, thy actions showed a resolve that few possess."
Inigo's lips curled into a faint smile, the tension in the air beginning to dissipate. "And what of you, knight? What drives you to test the mettle of others in such a manner? It's got to be more than boredom." he crossed his arms, "Though, when I am bored I like to talk to my fleas. Much less harmful to the people around me."
The knight chuckled softly, the sound blending with the distant howls of wolves in the frozen air. "Thou possesseth a sharp wit, Inigo," she said, her tone softer now, less edged. "And as for me, it is a duty, a need to ensure that those who would seek to stand against the forces of Dagon are not swayed by their own fears."
Inigo raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the knight's words. "So you're a guardian of sorts?"
Serana stepped forward, "Who are you, exactly? What's your deal?"
The Knight cleared her throat, "Many folks across Tamriel dub me the Knight of the Void."
Inigo's eyes widened slightly at the mention of the Knight of the Void. He had heard whispers of such figures, but never encountered one in person.
Serana's gaze narrowed, her hand instinctively drifting to the hilt of her dagger. "The Knight of the Void," she repeated, her tone skeptical. "A title that commands both awe and fear."
The Knight of the Void inclined her head slightly, her expression unreadable. "Indeed." Illia looked skeptical, and walked closer to Inigo, locking her fingers in his. "Oblivion." she muttered. "A Knight of Oblivion. Somehow, she wants to help us?"
Vilja nodded, seeing Illia's point. "Yeah, I don't trust her, either."
The Knight of the Void's gaze softened slightly, her eyes flickering with a mixture of determination and sorrow. "Trust is a fragile thing, easily broken," she said. "But I assure thee, my intentions are pure. The forces of Oblivion are relentless and insidious. If they were to gain a substantial foothold in this world, the consequences would be dire."
Inigo studied the Knight's face, trying to discern the truth in her words. However, he remembered that not all of the denizens of Oblivion were evil. For instance, Rynkyus and the Bladebearers helped guard Windhelm against the initial onslaught - they were Dremoras who opposed Mehrunes Dagon. The Companions were Werewolves, and unshaken allies of theirs. And, finally, Serana stood near him; evidence that Vampires were capable of good.
Would it be right for him to condemn the Knight of the Void due to her title?
The Knight of the Void's words hung in the air, a heavy fog that obscured the truth of her intentions. Inigo's mind raced, trying to piece together the fragmented thoughts and memories that swirled within him. He had always been cautious, ever the pragmatist, but there was something about this knight that stirred a part of him he hadn't realized was still there.
Serana's eyes, sharp and perceptive, locked onto the Knight's hidden face. "Why don't you take off the helmet?" she asked.
The Knight flinched. "I would rather not." The Knight's voice carried a note of reluctance, her eyes darting around as if searching for an escape from the tension.
"It would be easier to trust you if we could actually see your face." Vilja pressed. "It's okay if you look like a Hagraven; I won't judge."
The Knight shook her head in protest. "No; I... am not ready to be seen by others. But if thou need'st a reason to trust me, account for the fact I could have beheaded Inigo, but chose not to."
Inigo studied the Knight's words closely, searching for any signs of deception. Her posture was rigid, her hidden gaze behind a mask of stoic determination. He could not shake the feeling that she was hiding something, that there was more to her actions than met the eye.
"I see," Inigo finally replied, his voice calm but tinged with a hint of skepticism. "And yet, you claim to be an ally?"
"I hath my reasons," the Knight of the Void declared. "Mehrunes Dagon and the Daedra hath done me much wrong... too much...wrong." she shuddered underneath her armour. "...for far too long." The Knight's voice wavered slightly, betraying the turmoil beneath her stoic exterior.
Inigo could almost sense the weight of her past, the countless burdens she had borne silently, the scars that had not been visible to the naked eye.
Serana's gaze remained unwavering, her eyes piercing through the shadows. She, too, found a familiarity in the Knight's distress. "So, you seek our help."
"Aye." the Knight of the Void confirmed. "I do." she continued, her voice steadying, regaining its strength.
Inigo's eyes narrowed as he processed her words. "And what makes you think we can help you?"
"The tales I hath heard of thee, Inigo. And of thy companions." the Knight explained. "Thy tribulations and actions hath sent ripples throughout the land of Skyrim. I hath heard the tales of thy excursion into Saarthal, thy stalling of the Eye of Magnus, of thy retribution against Lord Harkon's Court, thy part in the Dragonborn's quest to slay Alduin the World-Eater, thy steadfast alliance with Cura, the Dragonborn. The tales sing of thy courage, and thy resourcefulness, all."
Inigo felt a surge of pride at the list of his accomplishments. It was a reminder to him of how far he'd come from his days as a Skooma-swivelled Bandit.
Serana's eyes flickered with an ancient wisdom, her voice smooth as silk. "But tell us, Knight, what is it you seek from us now?"
The Knight of the Void bowed her head slightly, acknowledging their question. "I seeketh an alliance, a partnership forged by necessity and a shared fate. The Daedra are restless, and I believe they art gathering strength to strike at the very heart of Skyrim. T'will be a siege like no other, and blood shall taint the land, covering like snow."
Inigo's eyes hardened, his mind already spinning with strategies and potential allies. "A siege, you say? It is like what Langley said..."
The Knight of the Void's gaze turned distant, as if she were peering into the depths of her own memories. "I hath knowledge of their plans, gleaned from the whispers of the Daedra themselves. Mehrunes Dagon hath commissioned, long ago, a construct so brutal, so foul, so great-"
"The Doom Strider?" Illia asked, recounting the name that Inigo had spoken of.
The Knight nodded, her expression grim. "Aye, the Doom Strider. It is a monstrosity of Daedric engineering, a creature so fearsome that even the bravest of warriors may falter before it. In that respect, 'tis something akin to a Daedric Numidium."
The Knight of the Void continued, her voice carrying a weight of foreboding. "Mehrunes Dagon hath promised that this construct shall march upon Skyrim, leaving nothing but ruin in its wake. The very thought sends shivers down my spine, for I knoweth that once it is unleashed, the land shall be bathed in the blood of the innocent and the brave. If only I could shew thee the construct, and thou could'st see it for thyselves... t'would haunt thy nightmares."
Inigo's grip tightened around the hilt of his sword, his mind racing with the implications. "Lady Knight, there is somebody I want you to speak to. Come with us to Riften."
The Knight of the Void regarded Inigo with a calculating gaze, her eyes glinting with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. "Riften, thou sayest? A place of shadows and deceit. I shall follow thee, but know that I shall not be easily swayed by the allure of dark alleys and hidden agendas."
Inigo nodded, his resolve hardening. "I told a friend of mine to go to the temple there. We will speak to him. He is a learned man who sees visions of the future. Maybe you can share some of your knowledge with him?"
Vilja crossed her arms, "I don't know what good that'll do. Maybe she can cut Langley's annoying tongue out, I guess."
The group abandoned the notion of going to Winterhold for the meantime, and chose to head to Riften. The damp smell of moss and lake water hit them as they passed through the military barricades.
The Imperials, Thalmor, and Stormcloaks all glanced at the Knight of the Void with a mix of awe, suspicion, and trepidation, though seeing her in the presence of Inigo and his allies made her appear more amicable, so they kept to themselves. The cobblestone streets of Riften gleamed with an eerie, almost ethereal light as the sun struggled to penetrate the dense fog that enveloped the city. Inigo, Serana, Illia, and Vilja navigated the streets, the Knight of the Void's presence drawing glances and whispers from the inhabitants. The Knight walked with a regal stride, her armor reflecting the dim light, casting intricate shadows upon the stone pathways.
"Riften." The word hung in the air, heavy with the weight of countless secrets and whispered lies. Inigo's eyes scanned the narrow alleys and bustling marketplace, searching for any sign of his friend. The city's atmosphere was thick with the smell of salted fish and the distant murmur of the river.
Serana's gaze was sharp, her eyes reflecting the flickering torchlight as she surveyed the surroundings. "This place is always bad news. We're all on the same page here, but keep your eye out for thieves."
Vilja nodded, "Indeed! I once walked through these streets alone, and some jerk bumped into me and I found my entire coin purse gone! The scummiest of the scum hang out in here!"
"I like it here!" Inigo declared enthusiastically.
The Knight of the Void raised an eyebrow, her gaze softening slightly as she regarded Inigo. "Thou dost have a peculiar fondness for this place, Inigo."
Inigo smiled, a rare sight that seemed to light up the gloomy atmosphere. "Riften may be a city of shadows, but it's also a place of opportunity and growth. My friend Langley should be here somewhere."
Vilja scoffed, "Opportunity? Ha! Opportunity to go broke, you mean."
Inigo walked under the balconies of the houses leading up to the Temple. Two Rift guards, clad in their purple-sashed armour, nodded to him when they saw him. "Ah, if it isn't the Jarl's favourite cat. How's the day find ya, Inigo?"
Inigo chuckled, his voice tinged with amusement. "You know me, always ready for whatever comes my way."
The guards froze when they saw the Knight of the Void behind him. "Er, I see. Well, you watch yourselves, eh?" Inigo led the group up the Temple stairs, and opened the front doors. The heavy oak doors groaned as they swung open, revealing the grand hall of the Temple. The air was filled with the soft glow of candlelight, casting gentle shadows on the polished stone floor. The scent of incense lingered, creating an atmosphere of peace and reverence. The central altar, draped in rich, crimson cloth, held the golden statue of Mara, her arms outstretched in a gesture of welcome and blessing.
Inigo looked around for a sign of Langley, but the stubborn oaf was nowhere to be found. "He's been here... I can smell traces of him." He walked over to one of the pews where Langley's scent was the strongest, in the back row. He definitely was here. Now all Inigo had to do was ask Maramal if he knew where he went.
The Knight of the Void stared at the Statue of Mara, and she lightly shuddered. "A temple of Mara... For long have I avoided this place. Perhaps thou knew I needed to come here..." The Knight of the Void's voice carried a trace of wistfulness, her gaze fixed on the golden statue of Mara. The air seemed to hum with a subtle energy, a resonance that seemed to echo her words. Inigo followed her gaze, his curiosity piqued by her enigmatic statement.
Illia took a seat on one of the back pews, and took a glance at Inigo. She wondered if perhaps one day she would return to the Temple for a new reason.
Vilja took a seat respectfully, as did Serana, who frequented this place since having been to Riften.
The Knight of the Void lowered her head and walked up the aisle, and began to pray. "Mother Mara, does thou hear me? Does thou remember me? Look upon me, Mother. Remember the daughter you spoke to so often, so long ago. Remember thine sybil's face." She stopped before the altar and raised her hands in supplication as she genuflected on one knee. "Please... let me know I reach thee."
The Knight appeared to be waiting for a response of some kind, but received nothing in return. Disheartened, she spoke again. "Perhaps I was never meant to. Was the light thee shined from the jaws of Oblivion meant to lead the damned to her demise?" she slowly raised herself back up, and turned away from the statue, morose. With a sigh, she relented. "Be well, Lady Mara. I apologize for calling thee mother."
The silence that filled the grand hall of the Temple was almost palpable. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the stone walls, creating a surreal atmosphere. Inigo remained standing near the entrance, observing the Knight of the Void with a mixture of confusion and concern. He didn't know her as a person, and yet, still knew well enough to understand that her words were more than just mere prayers. They were a plea for guidance, a search for solace in a time of turmoil.
He wondered what this all meant.
As the Knight of the Void turned away from the altar, her eyes seemed to reflect the dim light, revealing a depth of sorrow that was almost unbearable. Inigo felt an urge to approach her, to offer some form of comfort, but he hesitated. He had no idea what words could possibly mend the cracks in her soul.
Serana, however, moved with a quiet grace, her presence both calming and powerful. She stepped forward, her gaze meeting the Knight's. Serana's eyes locked onto the Knight of the Void, a silent communication passing between them. Her movements were fluid, a dancer's grace, and her presence seemed to ease the tension in the room. Inigo watched, entranced, as Serana spoke softly, her voice carrying an ancient wisdom that resonated with the very air.
"You're not alone. I know exactly how you feel." Serana began, her words echoing in the hollow chamber. The Knight of the Void's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of hope igniting within their depths. Serana's words, though gentle, carried a weight that seemed to press down on the Knight's shoulders, offering a rare solace.
Serana continued, her voice unwavering. "The burden you carry is not unique. There are those who have walked this path before you, and there will be those who follow. It's not the end of the world."
"What couldst thou possibly know of me?" the Knight said plainly. "Thou hast not walked in my boots."
"My family turned their backs on Mara and sided with Molag Bal, a long time ago." Serana explained, "But... she accepted me back. Whatever it is you did or didn't do... don't beat yourself up over it."
The Knight of the Void's breath caught, her gaze fixed on Serana. For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of Serana's words settling heavily on the chamber. The Knight's knuckles turned white as she gripped the edges of her cloak, the material whispering softly in the silence.
Serana moved closer, her eyes locking onto the Knight's, her voice soft but insistent. "Look, why don't we get to know you a bit better? Take off the helmet."
The Knight of the Void hesitated, her gaze flickering to the mask that concealed her face. The air seemed to vibrate with her uncertainty. Serana's eyes held a depth of understanding and empathy that made the Knight's hesitation all the more pronounced.
"I... I don't know," the Knight murmured, her voice barely audible. The helmet's dark interior cast shadows on her face, making it impossible to read her expressions.
Inigo stepped forward, his eyes reflecting curiosity and concern. "We will gladly accept you into our group. You are a formidable warrior. But we would like to know who you are."
"Yes; after all, you seem to know so much about us." Vilja crossed her arms.
The Knight of the Void's hand trembled slightly as she reached for the clasp of her helmet. The silence in the room was thick, almost tangible, as the anticipation hung in the air. Slowly, she lifted the helmet off, revealing a face etched with scars and lines of hardship. Her hair was short, and white. Her eyes, though tired, held a glimmer of hope. And curiously, her right eye was natural and brown, while her left eye glowed yellow, bearing resemblance to the eyes of a Vampire.
"I... am Gabrielle Clement," she introduced herself, her voice still carrying the weight of her past. "forgive my hideous visage. I assure you, a modicum of humanity remains within me, though buried deep it is."
"Well, do not worry, Gabrielle!"Inigo attempted to downplay the situation, recognizing that it was probably a source of anxiety for the somber knightess. "You are not the first Breton friend I have who has scars on her face and has been trapped in a Daedric Realm."
Gabrielle's lips curled into a faint, almost wistful smile, the corners of her mouth twitching as she regarded Inigo. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on her face, making the scars appear more pronounced, yet also adding a layer of mystery to her appearance. She shifted slightly, her gaze sweeping across the room, taking in the familiar yet comforting presence of her new companions.
"Thank thee, Inigo," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of gratitude.
"So, what's your deal?" Vilja asked, "You accost us in the middle of the forest, pick a fight with Inigo, and all seemingly out of nowhere, and you just love to be vague about everything. I can't be the only one who's a little annoyed, here."
Gabrielle's eyes flickered, the yellow glow in her left eye dimming momentarily as she considered Vilja's words. She raised a hand, palm upwards, as if to ward off any further questions. "Forgive me, my young friend," she began, her voice carrying a melodic lilt. "I am but a traveler, lost in the trials of time and space. My path hath been one of horror, and I seek only to prevent Dagon from damning the rest of this world."
Illia stood up from the pew and asked her, "You said something about a Sybil before. What did you mean?"
"Ghosts and belief of a past life. Nothing to squander thoughts of." Gabrielle tried to quell the questioning then and there. Gabrielle's words hung in the air, her tone imbued with an ancient, almost otherworldly wisdom. The room seemed to grow quieter, as if the very fabric of reality was absorbing her words, leaving only a faint echo of her presence. Her eyes, once a striking yellow, now appeared more subdued, a mixture of sorrow and resolve. "Thou doesn't need to know."
Inigo, ever the pragmatist, leaned forward, his expression a blend of curiosity and skepticism. "But maybe it will get it off 'thine's chest?" "I - sigh... Perhaps it will... I will tell thee my story however long I can bare it." the Knight put her helmet back on again, and sat down to recount her tale. "I was born in a small village located in High Rock. For the majority of my younger childhood, I lived amongst my family. A mother, a father, five brothers, three sisters, and another sibling on the way."
"Shor's Bones! What realm of Oblivion was that?" Vilja exclaimed.
"We did not come from much, and yet we had riches in eachother." the Knight continued, ignoring Vilja's remark. "However, in my sixth year I began to hear a voice. I did not know where she came from, nor her motives. But she aided me with advice. Taught me kindness and compassion. Never did I tell another of her, yet two years later she would be discovered. Priests came to my homestead and told me what I was hearing was the voice of Mara herself. I was a sybil of the Lady."
"So they took you away from your family?" Serana asked.
"Indeed... I left my family and... went to live in a temple. For the first two years, I studied the will of Mara, not just from the priests, but from her as well." Gabrielle recounted. "And soon after, I was asked to be trained in the ranks of the Maran Knights."
The dimly lit temple's air seemed to grow even more oppressive as Gabrielle continued her tale. The flickering candlelight danced on her armor, casting shadows that seemed to move with the weight of her words.
"Wait, Mara has a Knightly order?" Vilja asked, confused. "Like the Vigil of Stendarr, I assume?"
"The Maran Knights are a subsect of the temple of Mara. We held the value of upholding our mother's will by all means necessary." Gabrielle explained.
"Wait, did you kill people in the name of Mara?" Inigo's eyes widened. And to think, Mara was upset at him for punching Grelod.
Gabrielle's expression softened, her gaze shifting to the ground. "I did not. Though the Knights wished for me to join their ranks, the temple feared a sybil being subjected to blood." She laced her fingers together. "Instead, I was to take a different approach. Spread the word of Mara. Stop conflicts in her stead. All without a drop of blood from my saber."
"And if you failed?" Illia asked.
"If I could not sway the parties, then I failed my duties. I would leave the wake of the battle and watch my failures make others perish. I had my first mission and first taste of failure by my fourteenth year. The next years were filled with many more. Yet I continued for it was the will of my lady." The Knightess's tone wavered. She knew, even then, that the odds were stacked against her, and yet saw persistence as the only way forward.
The temple's air grew heavier, and the shadows seemed to press in, as if trying to suffocate the conversation. The flickering candlelight cast eerie glances around the room, creating an almost surreal atmosphere.
Inigo's eyes narrowed, his mind racing. "And I am going to guess you did not get that armour from the Maran Knights." he gestured towards the Daedric set she sported.
"I will get to that, as it is." Gabrielle continued, feeling the dam broken, giving way to the flood of memories. "For years I continued to fulfill the will of Mara. But it wouldn't last forever. I believe I was eighteen when I broke her trust. It was to merely end a conflict between two lovers." she crossed her arms over her chest and moved her gaze away from the shrine. "One was filled with so much hate against the other for the sake of their kin. And as I heard their tales of absolute anguish, I too shared their anger."
"Oh, I think I know where this is going." Vilja took a bite of her sweetroll, captivated by the tale.
"I never did wish harm upon a soul until that day. What he did..." Gabrielle enunciated each word with blooming frustration.
"Do you regret what you did against whatever that was?" Inigo asked, understanding the gist of it, but not wanting the details.
"I regret many things. But despite how everything went wrong from that point forward, I don't regret that one choice." Gabrielle's voice was laced with a quiet resolve, her eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight as if it were a beacon of her own inner rage.
Inigo asked, "Is that why you were trying to talk to the statue before?"
"I had tried many times after. I left the temple, and set out on my own to reconnect with her. But it never came." The silence that followed was thick and oppressive, like a storm cloud ready to unleash its fury.
Vilja, ever the observer, finished her sweetroll and leaned back in her chair, her eyes reflecting the candlelight. "So, you've been trying to reconnect with Mara, but it's been..."
"Ages." Gabrielle exhaled. She began to play with her fingers over her lap, methodically. "During my retreat I headed for Caecilly island. I hoped the joy and quaintness of the nearby village would help me, but... but little did I know that the Daedric Prince, Mehrunes Dagon, had plans for its populace." She spat the Prince's name out with venom.
"Ah, I see." Inigo leaned backwards. Dagon did something horrible to the people there, and that was why she wanted vengeance.
"What happened?" Serana asked. She knew, of course, that the answer was likely horrific.
"Because of a deal struck with the prince, the island, along with all its villagers, along with me, were sucked into Oblivion." Gabrielle shuddered as she recounted the past.
Illia clenched her jaw, her keen perception unveiling the ominous aspects of the story. "A seer of Mara trapped in Oblivion? That couldn't have been good..." She was acutely aware of the disdain that Daedra-inclined individuals, including her family, held for the Divines and their adherents. They were devotees of Hircine, who might be considered one of the more benign princes, barring his beasts. It was difficult for her to fathom the level of hostility that the inhabitants of Mehrunes Dagon's Deadlands, the realm of the Daedric Prince of Destruction, would harbor towards a devout worshipper of the Goddess of Love.
"Like being a city guard stuck in the dungeons with prisoners." Inigo winced with sympathy.
The Knight's voice came in broken breaths. "When I came to it was too late for them. Dagon had killed them all. He struck a deal with his summoner, and this deal led to the villagers' demise. But I was not part of such a deal, but an outsider who got caught in the fray. Dagon was joyous of this..."
Inigo reached a compassionate hand and placed it on her left shoulder. "What happened to you, there?"
"I had now found myself within the Deadlands - the realm of Dagon. Where many souls lost there become toys for the other Dremora, Dagon would not pass up an opportunity to play with a sybil of Mara." Gabriell began to tremble as the horrors struck her.
The memories of Oblivion's twisted realms still seared into Gabrielle's mind like hot coals. She swallowed hard, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "He killed me every day... One moment I would wake upon a breaking wheel and he would shatter my bones. Another time I'd be set off in his hunting grounds and I was forced to play the part of his prey."
As she recounted these horrors, Illia, Vilja, Serana, and Inigo recoiled with horror at the mere thought of it. Serana, in particular, clenched her own arms, expecting it to only get worse, as she knew full well the way Daedra looked upon mortals as mere playthings.
Gabrielle turned up to the statue of Mara, "Every night I prayed to Mara to let the next time he gutted me be the last... but it never came. I never heard of her... And so I had to look to the only will I could count on; mine."
The air was heavy with the scent of aged incense and the soft murmur of Gabrielle's words. Inigo, sitting beside her, felt the weight of her story settle upon him, a heavy burden he wished he could lift from her shoulders.
Serana stepped forward, her eyes filled with empathy and a touch of presence was a calming force amidst the tension, yet her gaze held a deep understanding of the horrors Gabrielle had endured. "Your strength is admirable, Gabrielle," Serana said softly. "It takes immense courage to face such suffering and still hold onto hope for so long."
Gabrielle nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Hope." she repeated it as if it were a dirty word.
"So, you gave up on Mara." Vilja said, scratching the back of her neck.
"SHE GAVE UP ON ME!" Gabrielle shouted reflexively, causing Vilja to jump. Gabrielle's outburst hung in the air like a storm cloud, dark and foreboding. The room fell silent, the only sound the distant echo of her words. Inigo placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch a gentle reminder of the support that still remained.
Serana stepped closer, her eyes never leaving Gabrielle's face. "Gabrielle," she began, her voice soft and soothing, "Mara's grace is not always immediate."
"I did whatever it took to survive." Gabrielle said firmly, though her tone was laced with disgust. "The men I slaughtered, the souls of the innocent I flayed... All amused the prince and left me unharmed from his torture. Perhaps he simply took glee in my mental toil." She looked down at her hands, seeing blood where there was none. "This was my will for the next many centuries."
Vilja, usually brimming with her characteristic sarcasm, remained quiet, her eyes fixed on Gabrielle with a rare display of empathy. "How did you escape? I didn't see you come through the portal in the caverns, there."
"Not here... not now. Let me see thy map." Gabrielle requested.
Inigo pulled out a parchment, its edges frayed and its surface etched with various symbols and markings. He unfolded it, revealing a crude map of the surrounding area. The path to the Daedric realm was clearly marked, a winding line that snaked through the mountains and into the heart of darkness.
Gabrielle studied the map intently, her fingers tracing the lines with a practiced hand. Her finger fell somewhere in the Rift, close to one of the Dragon Burial Mounds that Delphine's map had shown that Cura noted down long ago.
"There, it was there." Gabrielle's finger paused on the parchment, her eyes narrowing as she examined the spot. "This is where I escaped," she murmured, almost to herself. "two hundred years ago." she sighed, "But I must ask: why is is scribbled over on thy map, Inigo?"
Inigo responded, "Because Mehrunes Dagon stampeded through most of that area. It is not the same as it once was."
"I see." Gabrielle sighed, "it was through that gate she whispered to me. Her words unshackled my bonds, and I fought my way to that gate. And when I passed through I saw the skies of Nirn again. Rain dripped upon my flesh and I felt whole." She held her hand infront of her chest tightly. "But my chest would burst, and crimson covered my armour. An arrow sticking up from my heart. The guards who stood watch were all too eager to protect their homes from the Daedra and they saw me as one..." "By the gods, Gabrielle..." Vilja shuddered.
"I'm not sure how I stand here today. I awoke from the burning ashes of the imps and dremora." Gabrielle recounted further. "To this day I wonder, is it Mara's doing, or Dagon's? Or has another come to toil and play with my soul?"
After a moment of pause, she insisted upon what she said before. "I heard her in Oblivion. She called to me, yet now, I hear nothing! Why? What will must she have to play with my life like a doll? I do not know... I wanted answers, but she gave me none." She examined the decorative tears dripping from the statue's eyes. "Perhaps I must come to terms with it. My god truly has abandoned me." The flickering candlelight cast shadows upon the walls of the temple, dancing in rhythm with the whispers of the past. The golden Mara statue, adorned with intricate carvings, seemed to gaze upon Gabrielle with an enigmatic silence. Her words hung in the air, heavy with sorrow and confusion.
Inigo, standing beside her, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Gabrielle, you have faced trials beyond mortal comprehension."
"Thou art the only souls who hath heard my tale. I wish to give thee thanks for lending thy ear." Gabrielle's eyes met Inigo's, searching for solace. "Inigo, dost thou think Mara truly watches over us, or has she turned her back? Not just on me, but on Nirn."
Inigo's expression was one of deep contemplation. "I believe that Mara, like all deities, is complex. She guides us, yet also allows us to forge our own paths. Sometimes, the silence is more profound than the words spoken. But I know for a fact that she has not abandoned Nirn. She promised that she was watching over Cura in Coldharbour, and us here."
"Promised? Then... thou hast spoken with her?" Gabrielle's eyes widened with disbelief.
Inigo nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Yes, I have. Here in this temple, actually."
Maramal's voice came in from the room over. He looked at the Daedric Knight with a hint of apprehension, but also of understanding. "In moments of clarity, when the veil between our worlds is thin, we can communicate with her. She is ever-present, though her presence may not always be felt."
Dinya Balu emerged behind him, a parchment in her hands. Inigo figured that they must still be trying to figure out how to incorporate the existence of Varla into their teachings. Perhaps she was intending to send the news out to Cyrodiil.
Gabrielle turned to Inigo once again, "Wait. Thou said she was watching over Cura in Oblivion."
Inigo sighed, "Part of the goddess is trapped in Oblivion. She was there since the First Era. Killed by the Alessian Order, apparently. A bunch of salty ketchup-robed losers from what I have heard."
Gabrielle's eyes widened, a mixture of shock and sorrow crossing her face. "Killed by the Alessian Order? But that is... unthinkable. How could they have done such a thing?"
Inigo nodded solemnly. "I do not know all the horrible details. Maybe that can be something you, Cura and Varla can talk about when they arrive. It could go well with a nice tankard of strong Sujamma."
Inigo's words hung heavy in the silence, the gravity of the revelation settling over Gabrielle like a shroud. Her eyes, once bright with curiosity, now dimmed with sorrow and disbelief. "Lady Mara..." she looked up to the statue again. "So, thee, as well... thy fate has too entwined with the Daedra. I can scarce imagine... and all this time..."
Maramal, standing at the edge of the room, cleared his throat, breaking the spell of silence.
"Gabrielle, there is much we do not understand about the workings of the gods and the Daedra," Maramal said, his voice soft yet resolute. "But what we do know is that their paths often intersect in ways both profound and tragic."
Dinya Balu stepped forward, her eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight. "It is a reminder that even in the darkest corners of Oblivion, there are threads of hope and connection that bind us all together."
"And... Varla, thou said. Who is Varla? Is he a follower of Mara, as well?" Gabrielle's curiosity was piqued.
"That is a whole other can of worms," Inigo said, "but that is enough for now. How do you feel, now that you got all of that off your chest? We are not so bad to talk to, are we?" He looked towards Illia, Vilja, and Serana and back at Gabrielle.
Gabrielle's expression softened, her eyes moistening as she considered the words of her new acquaintances. The burden she had carried for so long seemed to lighten, ever so slightly, as she found solace in their understanding and empathy.
"I thank thee," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "It is a relief to speak of this, to share it with those who can listen without judgment. I had thought myself alone in my sorrow."
Dinya Balu stepped forward, her presence a comforting beacon. It was evident that she and Maramal had overheard the story. "Gabrielle, you are never alone in your sorrow," she said, her voice steady and reassuring. "and know that Lady Mara will speak to you again, in her own time. She never abandons those who seek her."
"I hope all is not lost." Gabrielle admitted. "At any rate, now thou knowest that my desire to defeat Mehrunes Dagon comes from a place deep within me. I do not wish to see Skyrim become as the denizens of Caecilly Island had. To become... as I... had."
Inigo's gaze softened as he listened to Gabrielle's words. "You have our support, Gabrielle. We are all bound by our resolve to stop Mehrunes Dagon. His influence spreads like a dark diarrhea stain across Skyrim, and we cannot allow it to consume everything we hold dear. That would stink horribly."
Vilja snorted and began to chuckle, as did Illia. Dinya and Maramal were not impressed at his choice of humour in their Temple, but they did not scold him for it.
Serana, with her regal demeanor and ethereal grace, stepped forward. "Gabrielle, your story resonates deeply with me. My own dealings with the Daedra were awful, but... not what you described. They were awful in a different way, and with Molag Bal..."
"Say no more, thou poor dear." Gabrielle intoned the meaning simply by hearing his name and seeing what Serana was. Seeing how the topic made the Vampiress uncomfortable, she spared her the need to explain. "The Daedric princes view us all as mere playthings for their own twisted amusement."
Inigo nodded, his eyes reflecting a mixture of determination and empathy.
Inigo stepped forward, his voice unwavering. "We must not let their cruel whims dictate our actions. We must be the masters of our own destiny and the protectors of our lands. It is in the face of such darkness that we find our strength."
Serana, her eyes softening with a rare show of vulnerability, placed a hand on Inigo's shoulder. "You are right, Inigo."
"And if I had the strength, I would bend all of Mehrunes Dagon's arms back and make him give himself the king of all wedgies!" Inigo said humorously.
Gabrielle's eyes widened at Inigo's unexpected outburst, but a faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Thou dost have a way of lifting spirits, Inigo. But we must not forget the gravity of our situation."
Serana's gaze turned serious once more. "Yeah, so - you wanted that Langley fellow, right? Where is he?" she asked Maramal.
"Langley? Langley... Langley..." Maramal appeared to be testing the name.
"The complaining bald man with the long beard." Dinya reminded him. "Remember? He said Inigo gave him a Pamphlet to our temple?"
"Ah, yes. He went to drown himself in Mead, I believe." Maramal said, shaking his head disappointingly. "I told him it was a sinful thing, but he said it was preferable to listening to our positivity all day."
"So, the Bee & Barb." Vilja stated rhetorically.
"The Black-Briar meadery, actually." Maramal corrected her.
Vilja's eyes sparkled with determination. "Then to the Meadery we go. We cannot let Langley's foolishness cloud his judgment forever."
Serana nodded in agreement. "And if he has indeed drowned himself in mead, we'll ensure that his spirits are lifted by our presence."
"If he is dead, you promise me that you are not raising him as a thrall, Serana." Inigo said with a stern gaze.
Serana rolled her eyes. "Ugh, that's not what I meant."
Serana's eyes twinkled with amusement. "I promise you, Inigo, I have no intention of raising Langley as a thrall. His spirit is too restless for that."
Vilja clapped her hands together, her excitement palpable. "Then let us go."
The small group of companions made their way through the streets of Riften and they entered the Meadery. It did not take them long to locate Langley lying unconscious between two vats of mead. As the group approached Langley's slumped form, a faint buzz of activity greeted them. The Black-Briar Meadery, with its rustic wooden decor and dimly lit corridors, was alive with the murmur of patrons indulging in the sweet drink. The air was thick with the aroma of aged mead, a pungent blend of fermented honey and spices that made the stomach growl in anticipation.
Inigo knelt in front of Langley, and Vilja came up close.
"Is he dead?" Vilja asked gingerly.
"No; he is just passed out drunk." Inigo chuckled. He gently shook Langley's shoulder, his touch firm yet careful. "Langley, wake up. It's us." His voice was calm but firm, cutting through the haze of the meadery's atmosphere.
Langley groaned, slowly opening his eyes. His gaze was unfocused at first, but as the fog of intoxication lifted, he recognized his companions. A faint smile formed on his lips, despite the remnants of his earlier despair.
"Ah, you're here." His vision came into focus, and he saw first Inigo, then Vilja, then Illia, then Serana, and Gabrielle behind them. He gasped. "Behind you, Inigo! A weirdly-armoured Dremora!"
Gabrielle stepped forward, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. "A Dremora, you say? Where is it, Langley?" Her voice was sharp, tinged with an ancient authority.
Langley struggled to sit up, his head spinning. "You! You are the Dremora!" he blurted out with frustration.
The patrons of the Black-Briar Meadery turned their heads, their curiosity piqued by the commotion. The atmosphere in the room shifted, a palpable tension filling the air. Inigo stood up, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of the Dremora.
"Stay calm, Langley," Inigo instructed, his voice steady. "Gabrielle is no Dremora. That is just her armour. And it has no red on it. See?"
Langley, still in a stupour, raised a hand to point at the Knight of the Void. "No... no red. But grey and silver... black. Black like night... night like... day...? Day! Yes, day. Something during the day. What, though?"
Illia whispered to Inigo. "Wow, he's really sloshed."
Inigo nodded, his expression a mix of amusement and concern. "Indeed, Langley. Let's get you back to your quarters and have a drink of water. You've had quite enough for one night."
Langley nodded, still disoriented but cooperative. With Inigo's support, he managed to stand up, his legs wobbly but determined. The group made their way through the meadery, navigating past patrons who watched their progress with curiosity and concern. They entered the Bee & Barb and lay Langley on the bed upstairs in the west room. "Easy does it, Langley." Inigo stated.
"I hear colours. Is that normal?" Langley asked.
Inigo sighed softly, his eyes scanning Langley's face with concern. "No, it's not normal, but you've had quite a lot to drink. Perhaps you should rest and we'll talk more about it in the morning."
Langley nodded, his head lolling slightly. "Colours... like memories, but not memories. And Dremora... a face, a voice, so familiar. But who is it? Who are you?"
Inigo leaned back, his eyes never leaving Langley's face. The room was filled with the faint scent of old wood and the occasional murmur of the inn's patrons below. "Langley, you need to rest," he urged gently. "We can figure this out tomorrow, when you're sober and clear-headed."
Langley's eyes were bloodshot. "No... no; I see it! I see everything! A Dremora... two! No, ten! A portal... red, brimming light. Shooting up into the sky! I see a... a light, and darkness. No; between light and darkness! I see eyes. A pair of eyes. Eyes, and tentacles. I see... I see it... the Amulet. The Amulet lost to time. I see it... the... diamond. I see its brilliance!"
Inigo's eyes widened, his mind racing to process Langley's frenzied words. "Langley, you need to calm down. What you're describing sounds like something from an old legend. The Amulet you speak of is a myth, a relic from the days of the First Era. It's said to be hidden away, beyond the reach of mortal hands."
Langley's eyes, though unfocused, glinted with an intense, almost manic light. "IT IS COMING TO NIRN!"
Inigo's breath hitched as he sat up straighter, his grip tightening on the armrest of the chair. "Langley, you're not making any sense. Calm yourself, friend!"
Langley's laughter was a hollow, echoing sound that seemed to reverberate through the small room. "You don't understand, Inigo. I've seen it." he began to try and articulate. "The Dragon... the Diamond... the fiends... the holy beings... the Gray skies... the Red Skies... the Doom Strider... the Light, oh, the blinding light! TAMRIEEEEL!"
Inigo turned to Vilja. "We need to get him some water, quickly."
Vilja nodded, her eyes wide with concern. She rose from her seat and rushed to the small kitchenette in the corner of the room, fetching a flask of cool water. Returning, she knelt beside Langley, gently pressing the flask to his lips. "Drink, Langley. Drink and try to calm down."
Langley's hands trembled as he grasped the flask, his eyes flickering between Inigo and Vilja.
The cool liquid trickled down his throat, momentarily steadying his ragged breath. His gaze softened, the manic light dimming to a flicker. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I... I feel so lost."
Inigo placed a reassuring hand on Langley's shoulder. "You're safe now, Langley. Whatever visions you're experiencing, they're just that—visions. You're in the Bee & Barb, in Skyrim."
"Tosh! I saw Aetherius, Inigo!" Langley barked at him. "I saw Aetherius, and... and I saw Akatosh!"
Inigo's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of recognition crossing his features. "Aetherius, Akatosh... That is interesting. And you were also shouting about a Diamond."
Langley's eyes grew wide again, the mania returning to his gaze. "I did, Inigo! I saw them! I saw them with my own eyes! And... and I saw a figure in white and gold, holding the Diamond."
Inigo's grip on Langley's shoulder tightened slightly, his expression one of intense focus. "Langley, you must try to stay calm. We need to understand what you're seeing."
Vilja, still holding the flask, nodded in agreement. "Inigo, do you think it could be related to the Doom Strider? Maybe Langley has seen something through some sort of vision or prophecy."
Inigo's eyes scanned the room, searching for any clues.
"The Dragon shall blind the eyes of the Destroyer..." Langley said, and then fell into his bed, unconscious. The room fell into a tense silence, the only sound the soft hum of the Bee & Barb's rustic atmosphere. Inigo's eyes remained fixed on Langley's still form, his mind racing with possibilities. Vilja, still clutching the flask, sat back on her heels, her brow furrowed in concern.
Inigo gently shook Langley's shoulder, trying to rouse him. "Langley, wake up. We need to talk about what you saw."
"No, Inigo; let him sleep. Poor fellow is exhausted drunk." Vilja grabbed his arm. Inigo's eyes locked onto Vilja's, a silent understanding passing between them. He nodded reluctantly, releasing Langley's shoulder. The man lay still, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath. The room remained hushed, the rustic atmosphere of the Bee & Barb enveloping them like a comforting blanket.
As they sat there, Inigo's mind wandered to the cryptic words Langley had spoken.
Inigo and Vilja descended the stairs, and rejoined Illia, Gabrielle, and Serana.
"What on Nirn was that about?" Serana asked, her countenance quite perturbed.
Inigo's eyes reflected the flickering candlelight as he recounted Langley's words. "He spoke of a prophecy. The Dragon shall blind the eyes of the Destroyer."
Gabrielle, her voice soft yet imbued with an ancient wisdom, spoke next. "The Dragon, thou sayest? And the Destroyer? These are terms steeped in the lore of both old and new. Without hesitation, I can tell thee it speaks of Akatosh, the Dragon, and Mehrunes Dagon, the Destroyer."
"But blind his eyes?" Illia asked, "That's a strange phrasing. What does it mean, that Akatosh is going to gouge his eyes? Shine bright light?"
"He was just drunk." Vilja chuckled. "It probably didn't mean a thing."
"Langley has the ability to see the future and its many possibilities." Inigo reminded her. "I do not think it was the alcohol, but a real vision of his, tempered by the alcohol."
The room was filled with an air of contemplation, the weight of Langley's words hanging heavily in the atmosphere. Inigo's gaze shifted to Serana, who stood with her arms crossed, her eyes narrowing in thought. "This prophecy, it could be a warning or a call to action. We need to understand it better."
Gabrielle nodded in agreement, her voice imbued with an ancient authority. "Indeed, we must seek the counsel of the wise and the learned. I cannot imagine that Akatosh would merely descend from the skies and blind Dagon."
"Well, Paarthurnax attacked him before..." Inigo recounted. "When we fought in Eastmarch, Paarthurnax led a small group of Dragons and they attacked mean lobster man."
Gabrielle's eyes widened at Inigo's words, a hint of surprise crossing her features. "Paarthurnax, thou sayest? The younger brother of the World-Eater himself? If thou say it is true that he has clashed with Mehrunes Dagon, then I shall believe thee, but the nature of this prophecy remains unclear."
Illia leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. "What if this is more than just a vision? What if it's a sign of something bigger happening in the world?"
Inigo sighed, "Whatever it is, I am glad Lucien found the Aetherium forge. Maybe their Dwemer legion can be put to good use."
As the conversation continued, the atmosphere in the room grew increasingly tense. The flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows on the walls, amplifying the sense of foreboding. Serana, ever the stoic one, remained silent, her gaze fixed on the floor, deep in thought.
Vilja, who had been quietly observing the exchange, finally spoke up, her voice tinged with a hint of sarcasm. "Great, another prophecy. Because we didn't have enough of those already. So, what's the plan? Do we seek out Paarthurnax again, or perhaps some other wise old dragon to get their take on things?"
Inigo's eyes narrowed as he considered Vilja's words. "I wish I had the answer for you, Vilja."
"Thou said thou wert headed for Winterhold, did thee not?" Gabrielle inquired. "Perhaps thou can enlist the aid of the wisened mages with their mighty artifacts?"
"Well... the mightiest artifact we have from Winterhold is the Staff of Magnus." Inigo gestured towards the staff Illia was carrying on her back. Gabrielle gasped, "The Staff of Magnus... 'tis the stuff of legends. Did thou use this to defeat the Eye of Magnus?"
"Cura did. And she didn't defeat the Eye, but she broke Ancano's hold over it." Serana explained as she recounted that brutal battle. "The Psijic Order took the Eye from Winterhold."
"Hmm... I suppose the tales those Bards are singing are a tad exaggerated, then, aren't they?" Gabrielle remarked, now that she learned their side of the story.
"Hey, I will not complain. Anything that makes me look better, I insist they keep it that way." Inigo said with a lighthearted chuckle. His remark was met with a chorus of chuckles, the tension in the room dissipating slightly.
"We have more pressing matters," Inigo continued, his tone turning serious once again. "Let us go to Winterhold and make sure all is well there."
Illia nodded, "I can't wait, personally. I've never set foot in there before, despite me being a mage. Ironic, isn't it?"
Inigo chuckled, "It really is ironic. Me, who knows beans about magic, was let in to study because I am friends with the Dragonborn. Life really is a gas."
With a new ally in their group, and another day lived with promise, the air was thick with anticipation as the group set out to Fast Travel for Winterhold.