Rastislav
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Arc 8 Chapter LIII: Pushing Loyalties
🕑 Added 2024-12-21 18:25:57 +0000 UTC(Reyvin's POV)
The four Dunmer look stricken as I pose my question, understandably shaken by having their entire being scrambled by dear old grandfather's bullshit. And yet I still found myself annoyed with how long they were taking to compose themselves "Too embarrassed to answer a simple question?"
The apparent leader jolts awake from his stupor and quickly shakes his head, lowering his gaze in the process "Apologies, your lordship. I do not know what just happened."
'Unsurprising, why would the puppet need to see its strings?' Pointing at him I say "Something within you reacted to my presence, I have my suspicions but you no doubt know more than I."
He shares a quick look with his fellows and offers a hesitant answer "It could only be the Divine Disease, traces of it remain within our bloodlines even if our ancestors were cured upon..." He suddenly stops but as he sees my expression not change one bit he goes on "Upon your own divine ancestor's death."
"Awfully certain of who I am" I mutter, it made sense but it was never a bad idea to get confirmation.
The leader chuckles a bit bitterly "Even without the reaction of the Corprus, your gaze alone tells us enough." Seeing my still raised brow he explains "There was a reason our ancestors did not go through a full cleansing. All those infected" His thin companion sneers "With it gain a lesser version of your lordship's sight."
"Not completely surprising" I shrug "Would be worth the risk considering the bloodline was meant to die with Voryn."
"Voryn?" The thin one mutters, his brows furrowed.
"You'd know him as Dagoth Ur, the name he chose when he decided to play god." I tell him bluntly "Awfully unsurprising that you are made to be unaware of the past."
As soon as I say that their expressions shift into a mix of disbelief, alarm, and even some concealed anger in the case of the evident zealot.
"You" The thin one speaks in a hoarse tone "You go against your sacred ancestor's path?"
I give him a long look, one he tries to meet but quickly finds himself looking away "I am my own Mer, and frankly I have already achieved and will achieve far more than Ur could in his madness."
Oh boy can I practically taste their outrage in the air, they are smart enough not to talk back about it... which just means they focused all of that confusion inwards, and are currently in the process of questioning their lives.
Useful.
Alarmed and confused as the quartet were, they still remained absolutely reverent in my presence. The indoctrination went deep, and it would take a fair bit of reeducation to get the entire remnant I suspect existed properly civilized, if they did join me that is.
Scorch directed his strongest disappointed deadpan stare at me yet.
"Am I to assume your... fellow remnants?" I quirk an eyebrow and ignore the bird's eternal sass "Wish to reaffirm their allegiance?"
They share a look and the leader answers for them "Our fellow tribesmen are currently posing as a hidden Ashlander tribe, the Darhashin." He pauses and looks away "I doubt they would deny you seeing how our own blood reacted."
Rolling my eyes I immediately wave off his unspoken concern "I have no desire to rule mindless puppets and witless zealots, all of you will have the compulsions removed from you, allegiance or not. It is the least I can give you to undo Voryn's apparent fuckup."
They all gape at me like I had just grown a second head, and it is the woman that speaks up first, though not before letting out a ironic chuckle "Most Mer would jump at the opportunity to have a tribe eternally loyal to them, yet here we are, denied."
Ah, finally! Someone not deathly serious! I grin at the sarcastic Mer and shrug "Most Mer cannot rend a city asunder at will." She huffs "And how powerful could your 'tribe' even be? I doubt your numbers are all that high."
Pausing with the obvious bait, I add "Also, introduce yourselves already, I know my presence is stunning but there is no need to be impolite."
Cue winces and sputters for a good twenty seconds before the leader says "I am Dagoth Ulthis" He points at the thin one "Dagoth Vemris" Then at the big one "Dagoth Kralor" And finally the woman "Dagoth Azra."
'Adopted' into the family through sharing Corprus then, not a bad way to create a fanatical collective I suppose.
"And I, in the embarrassing case you were unaware of it, am Dagoth Reyvin." I grin and offer a theatrical bow, near knocking poor Vemrin on his ass with the gesture "The rest of my current followers will introduce themselves later if you do end up following me, now my question?"
Ulthis looks like he wants to ask something but holds back "The current tribe is around one and a half thousand strong the last time we checked, all of the adults at least competent in combat and a good number of us in magic as well."
"A good number considering the locale" I nod along "I am guessing you base yourselves in Kogoruhn?"
"Indeed." He nods and once more hesitates "My lord-"
Remaining silent, I wait for him to ask the question.
But he keeps staring off, long enough for Azra to clap him on the shoulder while rolling her eyes "He wants to ask if you already remade the house, poor boy is afraid we got replaced without knowing."
She sounds like she is joking but there is a tension in her voice most would not notice.
"Real uninformed, are we?" I raise an eyebrow.
"Not much news reaches us this deep into Vvardenfell" Kralor speaks up for the first time, quickly adding a respectful "My lord." At the end.
Well now that is just sad "I have indeed remade the house in Skyrim" I answer simply "You and yours are of course welcomed to join me but do not expect me to abandon my city for a ruined fortress."
Vemris stills and mouths 'City?'
Ulthis nods, trying to hide his defeated expression "As is to be expected of course. I doubt our leader would say no but the decision still lies with him in the end." He pauses "As for us four, we would be honored to accompany you in whatever you wish to accomplish on Vvardenfell and beyond."
His three companions do not hesitate in making their agreement known, for all the snark and cruel revelation I slammed them with, their faith would make it almost impossible to stop them from metaphorically (this time) throwing themselves at my feet.
"Excellent." I clap my hands and grin "Do follow along then, we may as well continue this chat of ours away from the constant winds."
---
We spent the rest of the day 'catching up' as it were, with them explaining to me the structure of their tribe, it was pretty much a dictatorship with a minorly influential council, and how they managed to survive so deep into the hellhole that was Vvardenfell.
Short answer? The absolute mad bastards stole every single kwama colony they could get their grubby little hands on and made it look like they died because of the foul air, pretty much securing their food supply for the next half a dozen centuries if nothing went wrong.
Admittedly a cunt move but when it came to feeding one's family I'd have probably done something even more heinous if I was in their position. True hunger was not a feeling I would ever be able to forget...
Not that one ever should.
Onto less grim thoughts, once Anondor was goaded into removing his helmet by Azra, he was immediately blasted with question after question, he tried answering them patiently at first but after twenty minutes of brutal childish thoughtlessness, even his patience was beginning to fray.
The thought of Anondor of all people smacking people into shutting the hell up amused me to no end but alas, I was a merciful liege, and soon informed them of just what and who the Falmer was, which led into me talking about restoring the race and undoing the crimes of the Dwemer.
An act that merely served to reaffirm the quartet's belief in my divinity.
Unwilling to bear that awkwardness I kept the tale going, inevitably ending up at the founding of Silruhn Fell and my growing dominion.
"So..." Kralor begins "How big is this city of light exactly?"
"The army I raised from it is four thousand strong." I answered with a deservedly smug grin.
It did not take a genius to realize just how ridiculous that statement was. The fighters of a city were usually a tiny fraction of the population and even with my own admittedly skewed ratio of just around a sixth, yes the benefits were that good, it was still a frightening number.
Which naturally meant that I had more professional soldiers in my employ than they had people in their whole tribe. It was quite sad watching the realization enter their eyes. As did determination apparently, the four of them did not need to share a word before collectively deciding they would prove themselves worthy of serving me.
It was almost endearing honestly, if I were to equate them to lost puppies barking up their long lost owner's legs that is...
'Fuck that was dark.'
Good thing I didn't mention the militia course all citizens went through for a small cut in taxes, that would just be cruel at this point.
-
Some two hours later we were rejoined by the two Erabenimsun, Savos, and Vayrin, and oh boy was there some glaring from the Ashlanders once the four introduced themselves fully and openly. The two would have probably started shit for the perceived 'betrayal' of their tribe had I not stared them down into submission.
The Ashlanders were incredible sticklers for tradition and for a 'tribe' to be based on lies hit them quite hard. They did not try anything though, as in the end even traditionalists and zealots learned to shut their mouths before true power.
Vayrin was completely silent, not having much to comment, while Savos just shrugged the whole thing off and said it was to be expected. Vvardenfell is a rather large place after all.
-
The following morning, we once more met up with the leadership of the Urshilaku, and were sent of with a small feast, or at least what the Ashlanders considered a feast anyway.
I am not saying kwama and sujaama were a bad combination per se but without my gift it would have literally been the only thing they offered. At this point I was growing genuinely sympathetic to their efforts and aspirations.
We made gestures of friendship, held a short spar where I pretended to struggle before handily bodying the poor Mer, and left with a final promise to meet once more in Aldruhn once my 'pilgrimage' was complete.
Our wandering dozen left the tribe with great fanfare and soon we were back to the wasteland that was modern day Vvardenfell.
The Unmourned, I wasn't calling them Dagoth in my mind, that would be far too confusing, were at first concerned by our lack of ash-storm worthy clothing but soon found that travelling with yours truly meant travelling in style as the ash parted before me like a certain sea did before a lesser man.
Their expressions when they realized I could keep the ash at bay permanently were quite the treat, I have to say.
And it was thus that we made our way north. Our destination? The great temple of Assurnabitashpi, dedicated to Mehrunes Dagon.
A fucking mouthful is what it was.
---
The land around the ancient Velothi temple was jagged and sharp, looking more like a sea of spikes instead of a simple rocky outcropping it was meant to be. The few round towers still standing against the storms of ash barely visible in the distance, even to eyes far beyond the normal.
The whole thing somehow looked both angular and angle-less at the same time, it was trippy.
"How very devious." Savos comments as we pass the massive spikes by "One wrong step and the unfortunate pilgrim gets impaled, given just enough time to realize their agony before their bodies give out."
'Dagon does represent the dangers of the land, so the decor made sense at least.' I shrug "Seeking Mehrunes out without being prepared is just asking to get stabbed."
"Is it not only fools and the desperate that seek the House of Troubles?" Dagoth Vemris posits, his rough black robes bound tightly to his limbs so as to not drag him with the wind "No Mer of character seeks the false gods, especially not those universally known to be malicious."
Vayrin, clad in far greater robes yet about twenty times less comfortable, gives the thin Mer a scathing look "Even your lord does not insult the Good Daedra, what makes you think you have that right?"
Before the two could descend into yet another verbal spar (people got really bored when travelling, go figure!) I raise a hand "Vayrin, you will find that speaking for me is not your right" The priest winces and bows his head "And Vemris, as delightful as your dedication is, insulting beings of power, gods or not, is just asking to draw their gaze."
He tilts his head "Of course, my lord" His left lip twitches upwards "One should not poke a sleeping troll after all."
"I guess that is the best I am getting out of you" I scoff with amusement.
Soon we find ourselves walking up crumbling stone stairs and are met with doors widely open, revealing a scene of ordered chaos within. The rooms were not organized in any particular order, and the reliefs and statues carried distinct signs of all eras in history and some from even beyond that.
Though one universal aspect of it all was the oddly... upbeat feeling in the air.
"Huh." I mutter, and the moment my voice rings out the atmosphere in the chamber, one bearing a massive empty throne, shifts, revealing a projection of Mehrunes Dagon himself.
The destructive Daedra stared at me with approving eyes, his slightly changed form looking less warlike than usual as he rested his head on one of his many hands, another rested upon the throne while the remaining two leaned on a pair of weapons.
The first was the usual axe, the same one he tried whacking me with now that I think on it, while the other looked like a warhammer. And while it could definitely smack someone's head off, the ornate hammer only looked like it was made for war and was in truth a builder's tool.
How... oddly fulfilling to know I did that.
"We meet once again." Mehrunes' voice rings out "Little Aedra."
