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Arc 8 Chapter LI: Vvardenfell
🕑 Added 2024-12-19 20:28:57 +0000 UTC(General POV)
Vayrin Indoril had been having a rather stressful time of it for a few days now, ever since the head of his house got himself strangled to death under a fully valid Honorable Writ of Execution.
And in most cases that would have been that, corrupt and incompetent nobles were removed often enough for everyone to accept it as a fact of life... Except for the fact that the heads of a Great House could only ever be written off by the Grandmaster of the Morag Tong, someone who answered only to the Webweaver herself.
Add to that the fact that the Rootspire was enchanted beyond the capability of mortals to ensure peaceful cooperation under the auspices of the Good Daedra and... well, the reactions of his priestly kin were rather ambivalent to say the least.
This was one of the rare times saying 'The gods willed it!' about someone's death was unironically correct, was something Lord Dagoth commented at a later meeting held within the Redoran palace.
Not that any of the Indoril entertained the thought of striking back at him, as open a secret it was that it was he who petitioned for the writ. Doing so would have been spitting in the face of the Webweaver and thousands of years of tradition, that and not a one of them would survive the attempt.
The bold young lord had developed something of a... reputation in the time Vayrin had spent at his side, a rather expected outcome to most, yes, but the form said reputation took was a rather odd one if the young priest said so himself.
One day, just after the conclave, one of his priestly brothers was found speaking of Sun and Shade, a name he had no source of save for a hunch that had been bothering him ever since he beheld the young elf, and soon the duality of his deeds became widely known, as he would protect the righteous and punish the undeserving with an almost arrogant prejudice.
The bearer of said reputation made no comment on its spread, leaving the people to do as they willed.
As for Vayrin himself? Well, to say that he, the only person among them to have spent more than a few days and scarce short meetings around Lord Dagoth in recent times, was accosted by every single member of his house with enough influence to demand his time would be the understatement of the year.
Each scrambling faction wanted an understanding of the Lord of the Sixth House and apparently he was the poor fool destined to answer inane question after inane question. A part of him felt lucky that he genuinely did not have most of the answers they desired as all of them tried and failed to call his 'bluffs' with their numerous lie scrying heirlooms.
They refused to leave him still, but at least he managed to get a good idea of the developing power struggle, being split into three factions with the main branch wanting to retain influence as Neramir's son promised swift reform and a return to dutiful piety, a branch house decried the main house's failings, and the Almalexian descendant Alandro united the ambitious youth and the disillusioned into a more radical power bloc aimed at proactive reform and with the goal of 'fixing the homeland so that the gods and ancestors may smile upon our work.'
Vayrin doubted the unfortunate child of the false would achieve much but he still wished him luck all the same, their recent battle-born comradery more than enough for the young priest to ignore his prejudices. He had seen far too many leaders attempting to hold onto the status quo only to fall apart the moment trouble came in recent times and change sounded nice to his mind.
That though was the sole thing keeping him from pulling his hair out however, as his superiors in the house just wouldn't stop pestering him! Why had he been unfortunate enough to be born a human he'd have no doubt developed the grey hair of their elders by now.
Which is exactly why the moment Lord Dagoth declared his intent to leave the city on the third day after the conclave, Vayrin immediately volunteered to keep following him. Even the hellhole that Vvardenfell had become sounded better than one more meeting with his demanding kinsmen.
(Reyvin's POV)
The rhythmic rowing of the galley sailors striking the waves with their oars was the only noise currently trying and miserably failing to distract me from the sight before me "And here I thought the mainland was fucked." I scoff.
"I did warn you to expect it." Savos hums next to me, poorly hiding his own distress "It used to be only slightly better than the mainland before the eruption, you know. Kind of impressive how the Ashlanders are still getting by now that it is ten times worse."
"Stubbornness will do that to a Mer." I shrug.
"That or skill and grit." The mildly amused voice of Massour of the Erabenimsun draws our collective gaze as he and his brother approach, their priestly minder electing to stay below deck as he did not take to the water all that well.
I lean onto the nearby wooden railing and quirk an eyebrow "Something you two need?"
"Indeed." Massanor speaks up now, his previously insolent tone replaced with one of grudging respect "We should be reaching Gnisis within the hour, and" He pauses, gives me a worried glance, but quickly steels himself and goes on "We sent a message to the Ashkhans of your coming, and the Urshilaku have requested that we meet them."
"Urshilaku" I mutter the name "The mystics of your collective lot, no?"
He looks like he wants to be offended by what he no doubt considers a generalization but exposure had taught him to keep his mouth shut "Yes." He affirms clippedly "Their Wise Women are known for their sight and ability to commune with the Good Daedra."
I immediately roll my eyes and mutter under my breath "Can't just fucking send me a vision directly, can you?" Rising my voice to actually be heard I go on "I don't mind making a slight detour, some additional information on the lay of the land would be nice."
The taller brother nods and trots away, his younger counterpart staying behind and once more giving me a hesitant look "You truly plan on calming the mountain, don't you?"
My eyebrow raises "Still filled with doubt, are we?"
He shakes his head "After what I've seen you do? No." He looks back to the shore now visible under the constant ash wind "Still seems far fetched though."
"Well in that case" I stand up from the railing and stretch a bit, popping my bones unnecessarily "Merely follow and observe."
He grunts an affirmative and walks off.
Savos looks at him leave and comments "I was always amazed by the Ashlanders, even if they can be..."
"Mildly barbaric?" I ask with amusement.
"I was going to say a bit simplistic" Savos snorts "But sure, barbaric works as well."
Our conversation trails off as Gnisis finally comes into view, the admittedly majestic fiery backdrop of distant Red Mountain still guzzling burning smoke into the skies that then fell down from the central mountain range of the island of Vvardenfell not doing much to conceal just how very... dead the once city looked.
Of the once grand trading dockyard only one pier remained intact, no doubt repaired over and over again at immense cost so that the once city and now mere supply hub could remain functional for the few fleets of ships still willing to brave these waters.
The Captain of the galley that Sindrel graciously lent me shouts out for the rowers to begin slowing down and soon the ship finds itself fully docked, even as the everpresent turbulence of the Inner Sea kept on attempting to topple or damage it.
"You are certain you don't want us to wait for you?" The tall Captain asks, quite scared by the concept but more than willing to do the duty assigned to him.
But I had no reasonable need of his services "I do not know how long we will be spending here and I doubt your crew would appreciate the posting. Do not worry about us and relay my gratitude to your lady."
The elf waits a moment in case I change my mind, offers a deep bow, and returns to discussing trade with the few local Redoran subjects too stubborn to leave.
I return to my group, made up of Anondor, Akulakhan, Savos, Vayrin, and the two Ashlanders, and the moment I approach Massanor speaks up "The Urshilaku Ashkhan left a message for us, he and his kin have set up a camp at Ald Velothi to the northeast, we should be able to reach it within the day if we do not dally."
"Excellent." I clap my hands and begin walking in said direction, before pausing and turning around "Well gentlemen? What are we waiting for?"
---
I will admit that when I stepped onto Vvardenfell I expected to be graced with the incredibly alien sights I once saw within a game but all I got instead was ash, ash, and you guessed it, more ash.
Two centuries of constant volcanic eruption had not done these lands many favors and it was only now beginning to sink in.
When I whipped out my wind cloak and cleared the air, clearing out a large chunk of road and revealing the once unique landscape below, I found the two Ashlanders, who until now looked at me with respect for my marshal prowess, now staring at me with eyes that bordered on teary reverence.
Part of me was a it sad the shorter one would forever keep his previous cheekiness to himself but I suppose it was a worthy sacrifice for some clean air.
A decision that quickly proved itself to be the correct one as I soon stumbled upon a ball shaped chunk of rock glowing with crisscrossed red cracks that practically radiated power. A very familiar power.
I had to hold myself back as my instincts roared at me to swallow the heartstone as quickly as I was able. Ignoring abundant evidence to the opposite, I was more than capable of practicing basic self control, so I handed the sinfully tempting rock to Akulakhan focused my mind on the road ahead.
There were plans in the making for those rocks, and I would not lose them to a dead god's hunger.
And so it was that we marched in silence, leaving behind a trail of cleared land that was already slowly being reclaimed by the ash storms, and ten hours passed. Just as I was about to summon my Orb™ to kill time, we came upon a series of sudden jagged outcroppings of stone, nestled within which stood a warded camp, a spot of normalcy in the sea of apathy that was the rest of the great island.
Huh, I did not know boredom made me feel poetic.
The lookouts, understandably lax in their duties, took a moment to notice a massive ball of normal approaching their camp but soon an alarm was raised and a group of some fifty warriors had formed up within the protected edge of their camp.
They all visibly relaxed as they realized it was Dunmer that approached and not whatever else they thought threatened their lives.
We strode through the wards and an ancient looking Dunmer woman took one look at the two Erabenimsun tribesmen to know our purpose here. The Wise Woman strode forward with purpose, ignoring both her tribesmen and my own companions to meet my eyes with a pair that held more insight than one usually found in a priest.
"So your coming was no falsity." She speaks in a tone I found slightly difficult to identify as part wistful and part assured "How odd it is to look now upon the descendant of the one Nerevar himself sought o end, and hope he too shall bring salvation." She lets out a long tired sigh "The gods will do as they will, it is up to Mer to follow, as it has always been."
"Met Nerevar himself, have you?" I quirk an eyebrow, this woman was sending all kinds of signals my way and even if not truly threatening in any way, I still found myself cautious around her.
"The Chosen Hortator is as he has been, free to keep his comings and goings to himself." The cheeky little shit answers without a single shift of expression "What he is not, is dutybound by the Three to do their bidding and bring succor to his people once more."
"Yes, yes" I wave her off "Needless self reassurances are fun and all, but is there a rest stop between here and whatever Azura told you to tell me?"
Finally her demeanor cracks for a split second and her lip twitches into a tiny frown before she rights it back up "Your family's sight is yet renowned in the legends, even if it has been misused for so long." She states "However you do not see all."
Rolling my oh so venerable eyes I drawl "Do enlighten me then, you old crone."
She sniffs in disapproval "Very well." The air around her shifts "Hear pilgrim the Tribunal's sacred word: Seek you the house of the heart, and the source of our greatest woe, to pierce the veil set by the eternal foe. Bar the way does the House of Troubles, their spite, their rage, and their maddened grumbles. Ask their aid, assuage their troubles, or turn their homes into righteous crumbles. Four keys shall open the way, and bring to the land a bright new day.
All the elves surrounding me, up to and including Savos, were completely silent as the words were spoken. Azura may have been willing to skip the song and dance within my own vision but it would seem she was not quite so willing to remove her air of mystery before her usual worshipers.
Not that I cared since the task/instruction was rather obvious but I still did find it a bit funny.
"Say, Wise Woman." I speak up, my tone still completely relaxed.
Her eyes flicker with power that was not her own before returning to normal "Yes?"
I give her a smug ass grin "What is the closest troubled shrine?"
Her look immediately sours but she does answer "Assurnabitashpi, aligned to the destroyer."
"Excellent." I clap my hands and turn to my companions, only to find, to my annoyance, that all of them looked exhausted as all hell. Sighing I turn back to the crone "Your tribe wouldn't be against providing a bit of hospitality, would it?"
Her annoyed expression changes into one of odd familiarity "All who seek succor in these troubled times will be given aid, I just hope you do not abuse it."
Rolling my eyes I snap my fingers, summoning a crate full of preserved foodstuffs.
Her eyes widen and she offers me a genuine smile "I believe the Ashkhan will want to meet you now."
Nodding along, I begin following her, only to notice a peculiar elf out of the corner of my eye. I had never met him but he felt oddly... familiar.
How very curious.
