forged-through-trials

[forged-through-trials]

Mach-Na was, indeed, tapped for gossip... and for patience. So Ruin and I tried a few other places, eventually bringing us to Borba gra-Uzgash's shop. We asked her about any juicy tips. Borba: "Adventurers love to investigate Daedric Shrines, and there just happens to be a shrine to Azura that lies in the Jerall Mountains, far to the north, toward the Skyrim border." Trials: "Oh, we'd heard about that one. I'm still uncertain about investigating that, but Ruin and I are planning a trip up there in the next few days." Borba: "How about the Shrine of Boethia? That one is high in the Valus Mountains Southeast of Cheydinhal. Any plans to investigate there." Trials: "That one I haven't heard of. So, what's the cult that worships there like?" Borba: "I don't know too much about the actual cultists. I can tell you about Boethia, however; the god of deceit, conspiracy, treachery, and sedition." Trials: Sardonically. "He sounds like such a charmer." Borba: "They're also the god of overthrowing the ruling class." Trials: "..." My eyes lit up. "Why didn't you just lead with that?" Well, that certainly piqued my interest. When Ruin and I head out to the Azura Shrine, we might pay the Boethia one a visit, too.

But it was time at last to chat with Burz gro-Khash, head of the local Fighters Guild chapter. To think, I used to whine and moan about doing jobs for this guild, risking my neck for my coin and such. Then I got an honest job and discovered honest work pays crap, and is boring as all heck, to boot. So, here I am, doing the dangerous work again in spite of all my griping. ...not that a plan to stop griping, especially when I see something utterly stupid. Burz: "You here looking for work, meat?" Trials: I furrowed my brow at him. "How dare you! I am not a hunk of beef! You are singling me out for harassment, sir!" Burz: "...pretty sure that everyone in the world is made of meat, meat." Trials: "Oh. Well, as long as you're not just picking on me." Burz: "Ugh, lemmie get you a job and out of my face before you get Fighters Guild HR on my green ass. "We need a weapons shipment delivered to Desolate Mine. That's your job." Trials: "Do I look like a delivery-girl??" Burz: "Yes! I saw you deliver a package a few days ago!" Trials: "Oh... well, very astute of you." Burz: He sighed and rolled his good eye. "Just pick up the weapons and get out of my face, meat!"

It was a long hike north of Cheydinhal before Ruin and I arrived at Desolate Mine. Just outside the entrance, a pair of ornery scorpions blocked the way. Kind of irresponsible of the Fighters Guild operatives to leave these scorpions here. No wonder they had problems receiving deliveries here; remote location and nasty neighbors. Once inside the cave, we found the three FG agents standing around a campfire. It looked like the Redguard woman was in charge here, so I approached her with my clipboard. Trials: "Got a weapons shipment here for a 'Rienna'. Sign and initial." Rienna: She tool my clipboard and checked off all the dotted lines she had to sign. "Great. And you'll be sticking around to back us up, right?" Trials: "Sure, but Burz better be ready to pay extra for not telling me I would be backing you up. "By the way, you know you guys left two scorpions outside guarding the entrance? Doesn't exactly make me feel welcome that I had to wade through that to get in here." Rienna: "You were bringing our weapons. What were we supposed to slay them with? Our good looks?" Trials: "How did you get past them, then?" Rienna: "We told them bad jokes until they turned away in disgust, then snuck past them." Elidor: "How is your wife?" Brag gro-Bharg: "She's in bed with laryngitis." Elidor: "Oh, is that Argonian bastard back in town again?" They stood with their arms out, raising Jazz-Hands. Trials: "Huh... yeah, I can see how that would work." Rienna: She plucked the bow and arrows from the weapons package. "I'll take these. Pass the other two to my cohorts." Trials: "Alright, who wants what?" Elidor: "I long to sink a blade into some goblin flesh." Trials: "Eww, you say that like you should be on some kind watch-list." Brag gro-Bharg: "I'm looking forward to bashing some skulls in." Trials: "...hmm, you sound like you belong on a different watch-list."

I offered the sword to the High-Elf, Elidor, and the hammer to the Orc, Brag gro-Bharg. Now that they were all armed, I spoke to Rienna. Trials: "Alright, what's our game-plan going in?" Rienna: "Well, these goblins have been giving the workers a lot of trouble in the past." Trials: "Is this place important, or can we just skip this job?" Rienna: "Well, the gold from this mine supplies all of Nibenay. Chapel healers need it to have more Magicka." Trials: I rolled my eyes. "By the Hist... okay, here's what we'll do; I'll run in first, and wave my big, legendary sword around, and that should scare the goblins and scatter them, so we don't have to fight a bunch at once. "They'll get over that eventually, so then Ruin, you'll run in and wave your big Daedric sword around, and that should scatter them again. That'll keep the heat off of us, but we'll have to take 'em down quick before they regroup." Ruin: "I appreciate your planning, my friend. Doubly so because it's a plan that doesn't require skooma. What do you think, Rienna?" Rienna: "I crunched the numbers and calculated at least a thirty-three-point-three percent chance of success." Trials: "..." I furrowed my brow. "That's... actually really bad. I prefer plans where I don't have more than half a chance of dying." Ruin: "Again, skooma." Trials: "Oh, hush-up, you!" Rienna: "Trust me, it's better than we usually do." Trials: "Alright, then I--" Brag gro-Bharg: "Time's up! Enough talk! LET'S EFFIN' DO THIS!" Elidor: "HOO-HA!" The two run in ahead. Trials: I blinked several times. "Are they always like this?" Ruin, I, and Rienna gave chase after them, our weapons drawn, ready to back the team up. Goblins came at us as we rushed down into the tunnels, but between the five us, none of them were a match. A flurry of blades, hammers, and arrows, and the goblins were cleaved without much trouble. No, the trouble came when we were near the end of the tunnels, when I spied a trap tripwire strewn across the floor. Trials: "Hold up, lemmie just disarm this--" Brag gro-Bharg: "LET'S EFFIN' DO THIS!" Elidor: "HOO-HA!" The duo rush in, and were immediately buried in a dozen or so falling logs tripped by the tripwire. Brag gro-Bharg: "Aaaaahh! Medic!" Elidor: "I need a rez!" Trials: "Gods dammit...!" Brag gro-Bharg: "'Least I have sweet rolls!"

Aside from that minor mishap, the Desolate Mine job went off without a hitch. The goblins were slain and the mine cleared for work to resume. The working class miner need not fear a hazardous workplace as long as Forged-Through-Trials is on the case! Ruin and I schlepped it back to Cheydinhal and reported back in to Burz gro-Khash. Trials: "Jobs done, boss." Burz: "You got the weapons there, and cleared the mine with no casualties?" Trials: "Aside from some goofs stubbing their toes on some logs, everything went fine." Burz: "Better than I expected from you." Trials: I blinked. "I...!" I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Just take the compliment." Burz: "And the gold!" He offered me a sack of coins for my trouble. "And a promotion! Due to your performance, I name you Journeyman of the Fighters Guild." Trials: "Weren't you just whinging about how I'm only 'good enough'?" Burz: "I do that a lot. I'm a hard-ass; it's my whole personality." Trials: "Jeez, get a hobby." Burz: "Anyway, head over to Chorrol next. The Guild Master, Vilena Donton, has a job for you." Well, Donton will have to wait. I don't plan on going to Chorrol anytime soon. I have some work left in Cheydinhal, and my next stop after that's done will probably be the Imperial City.

[forged-through-trials]

The following day, we hit up Mach-Na again, as she seemed to be a great source of info about Cheydinhal. Irritable, sure, but informative. Mach-Na: "Are you actually going to buy something, today?" Trials: "No, no... we're just curious about what the words is around town." Mach-Na: "Ugh... I need to start charging for gossip! "Well, have you heard of Rythe Lythandas?" Trials: "'Right Left-Hand-Us'?" Mach-Na: "...close enough. "He's possibly the greatest painter in all of Cyrodiil." Trials: "When I get a house, I'll be sure to give him a call." Mach-Na: "...no, not that kind of painter. He does landscapes. "Sadly, he's gone missing. His wife, Tivela, is beside herself with grief." Trials: "I'd ask why the town guard aren't looking for him, but after my last job, I know exactly why they haven't. Chances are Ulrich never thought to fine people for going missing." Mach-Na gave us some directions, so we legged it over toward the Lythandas home. It was decidedly large and posh, as one might expect from a career-artist. The door was unlocked, so Ruin and I let ourselves in, announcing our entrance to the lady of the house. Trials: "Greetings. I'm Forged-Through-Trials, and this is my associate, Ruined-Tail." Ruin: "Greetings, madam." Tivela: "...well, apologies, strangers-who-barged-into-my-home, but may I ask you a favor? "It seems my husband, Rythe, has gone missing, and I just don't know what to do." Ruin: "I... question the reasoning of asking two strangers who waltz into your home uninvited for help in this matter." Trials: "Well, who else is she gonna ask? The town-guard who will fine her for disturbing their nap?" Ruin: "...point taken." Trials: "Anyway, Ms. Tea-f'er-ya Lift-And-Bust--" Tivela: "...close enough." Trials: "--we actually stopped by because we'd heard he was missing. I'm something of a traveling mystery-solver, and happy to put my skills to the case!" Tivela: "I thank you for your kind offer, madam. "Yes, Rythe likes to work in his studio with the door locked, so no one can disturb him. He usually comes out to eat dinner and sleep, but two days ago, he didn't come out at all. When he hadn't left his studio for a whole day, I used to key he gave me for emergencies to open the door... and he was completely gone! "I'm sure he never left that room. So I have no idea where he's gone. Please, help me find Rythe. I love him dearly, and I am so worried!" Trials: "Oooh, a Locked Door Mystery. Never had one of those, before. "But worry not, ma'am. I'm on the case!" Tivela offered me the key to Rythe's studio, bidding that I hurry to find her husband. Accepting the key, I turned toward the studio, unlatching the door and stepping inside.

Huh, so this is where the "magic" happens? Where Rythe does all of his work that has made him famous across Cyrodiil? Seems a little cramped, to me, but those paintings leaning against the wall spoke to his talent and ability. The narrow setting sure didn't hamper him any. I took a little look around. Nothing jumped out at me right away as being any kind of evidence. There were just a bunch of art supplies laying around, and not even so much as a sign of a struggle. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw something. I looked to find that painting sitting on the easel. Ruin was occupied consoling Tivela, so I stepped into the room to investigate, and thought that I had seen the face of that painting ripple as if it were the surface of a pond. I stepped up, and drew even closer still, reaching a hand out to touch the face of that painting, and...

Well, let's a-go! After the strange, white void, my eyes cleared to reveal a foresty meadow. Though something was very... off about this place. From the way the ground felt, to the look of the rocks, the trees, the leaves... leaves? Those aren't even leaves! They're painted on! Where the heck was I? This place was like something out of one of my Akaviri Picture-Books! It was about then that I noticed I was alone. Ruin hadn't followed me in. Maybe he hadn't seen me get sucked into the painting, and was right now wondering what had become of me. I wasn't alone for long, though. As I was still trying to acclimate to the bizarre landscape, a fairly dressed Dark Elf approached me.

Rythe: "Where did you come from? You look real enough. You must be from the outside! Oh, thank goodness someone finally came!" Trials: "Whoa, are you Ripe Lasagna?" Rythe: "...close enough. "While I'm overjoyed to see a friendly face, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you." Trials: "Salmo the Baker is discontinuing his famous Sweet Rolls?" Rythe: "...okay, maybe not that bad. "No, we're stuck here. Sorry to break it to you like that, but if it wasn't for that annoying thief, we wouldn't be in this predicament!" Trials: "IDidn'tDoEet!" Rythe: "What? No, not you! It was a different thief. "I was in my studio, when a Bosmer wearing dark clothing accosted me. Before I could call for help, he knocked me unconscious." Trials: "Very rude of him." Rythe: "How do you think I feel? "When I came to, I found that the door to my studio was still locked, and that the thief had snatched my paintbrush. That's when I saw it." Trials: "You mean the void of white with the hollow star-shape in it?" Rythe: "No, that came later. What I saw was something on the canvas of my painting that I hadn't put there. It looked somewhat like a troll, but it was badly done. Then it hit me!" Trials: "The Bosmer again?" Rythe: "No, it was the realization that the Bosmer must have leapt into the painting, then painted guardians inside to protect himself using the Brush of Truepaint!" Trials: "Whoa, slowdown. What the heck is the 'Brush of Truepaint'?" Rythe: "I knew the secret of my success would be revealed one day. I can tell you all about the Brush, if you like." Rythe regaled me with the tale; in the war of 3E 396, his father was a soldier who was injured when an errant fireball exploded near him, costing him the use of both arms. A painter before being conscripted into the war, it seemed his career was over. But he prayed night and day to the Divine Dibella for some way to express his artistic side once more. And I guess because Dibella is not the goddess of growing new arms, instead she gave him a paintbrush woven from her own hair. The magic of the Brush allows the painter to step inside of a canvas to paint objects to life size. Though 'paint' is not quite accurate, since all the user has to do is think about what they want, and it will appear. The Brush of Truepaint was then passed down to Rythe from his father, and is the source of Rythe's talent and fame. Trials: Deadpan. "Oh. So you're a phony." Rythe: "...I mean, yes, but you shouldn't say it like that." Trials: "Oh well. Truth be told, I've been all Fake It 'Til I Make It since I first arrived in Cyrodiil." Rythe: "...faking it?" Trials: "Oh, yes. I'm an alcoholic ex-slave who gets by mostly by the fact that I'm harder to kill than I look. I honestly can't believe people keep giving me jobs. Or that I keep pulling wins outta my butt." Rythe: His face paled. "Oooohh that doesn't inspire confidence." Trials: "About as much confidence as I have in your art-skills." Rythe: "Right. Any port in a storm, eh? "We need to get the Brush back, which means you're going to have to get past the thief's Painted Trolls. I cannot do it. I am not a warrior." Trials: "What about the thief himself? Anything I need to worry about with him?" Rythe: "Thankfully, that problem solved itself. I heard him scream not long after I arrived. The trolls that the thief painted seemed to have turned on their creator and killed him. He didn't know the Brush had its risks." Trials: "Well, sucks to be him." Rythe: "The creatures now roam loose all over the forest and in the clearing where I was still working. The Brush is on the body of the Bosmer Thief, there. "Here, take these bottles of turpentine. They may help." Trials: "...unless we're making gut-rotting moonshine, I don't see how. But thanks, I guess."

On second thought, everything here is made of paint, right? So maybe this turpentine could be useful after all! I could... pour some on the rocks to melt them... nah, no, what would I do with melted rocks? I guess the best alternative would be to pour this stuff on my weapons to give them a little extra bite against the trolls.

I dipped my arrows in the turpentine, and upon spotting one of the trolls, let the poisoned arrow fly. It worked like a charm, and the Troll went down in one shot. Guess I owe Rythe an apology. The rest of the trolls went down in similar fashion. That turpentine went a long, long way... meaning it would probably make some really powerful moonshine if I can save any.

A hop and skip through the painted forest later, and I'd found the 'clearing' Rythe spoke of. It wasn't so much a 'clearing' as it was a space that looked unfinished. It was quite strange to look at, and even stranger to walk on. The texture of the place was not unlike one might imagine from a canvas. Once the last Troll was downed, I was able to advance onto the corpse of the Wood Elf thief. It only took a little bit of rifling through his pockets to retrieve the Brush. I took a minute to admire it; it looked so much like an ordinary paintbrush, but it apparently was some kind of amazing, enchanted Aedric Artifact. What're the odds that I would run into something like this? Well, now to get it back to Rythe. A short walk through the painted forest later, and I'd returned, Brush in hand, and quickly handed it off to the artist. Rythe: "You have the Brush? Excellent work, my friend." Trials: "Told ya I'd pull a win outta muh butt!" Rythe: "Certainly glad your bottom had at least one last 'win' to give. Now, I will paint the portal back home. Once it appears, you should go through first. Or you might be stuck in here forever." Trials: "Wait, before ya do, can you... paint me a meat-pie?" Rythe: "I can, but it would taste like paint." Trials: "Aww, lame!"

Rythe took the Brush and stepped a few paces away, drawing both the Brush and a pallet... for some reason. He already told me he doesn't actually need to wave the Brush around to make it work. I think he just felt like showing off. Whatever the case, after a few moments of waving the brush at empty air like a showy moppet, a window appeared, floating in the air. It looked like a painting of Rythe's studio. Once done, Rythe stepped to one side, and allowed me to pass first, and I quickly did so. I emerged from the painting back into Rythe's studio, right in front of a very shocked Ruined-Tail. Ruin: "Trials! Where have you been? I turned my back for one minute and you just vanished!" Trials: I grinned with cheek. "What're you talking about, Ruin? I never left this room!" Ruin: "..." He rolled his eyes. "You've got a weird story to tell me, don't you? Or you've been drinking again. Wait, that's it; you snuck off to drink didn't you?" Trials: I pouted. "Ruin! I'd never do that while on the job!"

Before I could explain myself to Ruin, Rythe rushed forward to meet his wife, the happy couple holding a just as happy reunion. Tivela: "Rythe! Oh, my love! You are home safe... I was so afraid." Rythe: "If it wasn't for my friend, here, you'd be right." Tivela: "This is wonderful! Now we won't miss my mother's birthday." Rythe: Deadpan. "Oh... goodie." He tried to force a smile, and turned to me. "Well, my mother-in-law not withstanding, I don't know how to thank you. You have a good heart to help get me back home. I'll never forget what you've done for me." Trials: "Hey, no problemo, my dude." Rythe: "If I may ask one last favor; please keep the Brush's existence a secret. If word gets around that I have it, I'm afraid more than a lone cut-purse will visit me." Trials: "Sure, my lips are sealed. Barring some extreme situation, like, say, if I find myself in a predicament where I desperately need an Aedric Artifact to help save the world, or something." Rythe and I shared a hearty laugh at that quip. Surely, nothing like that could ever possibly happen to little ol' me, after all!

Rythe gave me an apron as a token of his appreciation. Not the flashiest of gifts, but a fine reminder of my contribution to the arts. Also it's enchanted and thus, very valuable, so that's pretty nice! And thus I closed another case. The missing artist has been returned safely to his home and his loving wife, and Cheydinhal is richer for the adventure. I've probably tapped all of the info I can get out of Mach-Na, but I'd say chances are good the Fighters and Mages Guilds might have some work for me. And once those are out of the way, I still have the Thieves Guild job, and the Castle Vault, to hit, before I blow this town and hit the road once more.

[forged-through-trials]

While I felt on-board with whatever Llevana had planned for Ulrich, Ruin insisted that we consider other options. And besides that, I do have other work to look into here in Cheydinhal. Something tells me that were I to follow Llevana’s plans, I’d have to ditch Cheydinhal for a while. Ulrich might have it coming, but I had a bigger picture to look at. So, we tracked Garrus down at the Castle, and hit him up. Word of what had happened preceded us, as Garrus was already briefed. Garrus: “We must put an end to this travesty of justice!” Trials: “How did you already hear about Aldos?” Garrus: “Crooked guardsmen like to boast when they know there’ll be no consequences for their actions.” Trials: I grit my teeth. “Bastards!” Garrus: “Aldos will be mourned. I won’t sit by and watch the innocent being driven to the brink like that! Something must be done, but without bloodshed.” Trials: “You may want to have a word with Llevana, then, because ‘bloodshed’ seems to be exactly what she’s after.” Garrus: “Llevana has always been quick-tempered. You must reconsider her plan. It can only lead to prison for her... and for you. I swear that Ulrich will pay for this. We must handle this carefully and prove to the Count that he needs to be arrested.” Trials: “If you’ve got another plan, I’m all ears. Because I thought we were all out of options.” Garrus: “Ulrich’s been watching me, but that’s good. I can keep him distracted, while you sneak into his quarter and find whatever evidence you can that incriminates him.” Trials: I raised my brows in surprise. “Wow, really? I’m game, but I’d never expect that suggestion from you. It’s not very ‘by the book’.” Garrus: “Exactly. I wouldn’t suggest it if I weren’t desperate, but the fact that it’s less than above board means Ulrich won’t be expecting it. “But, of course, if you’re caught, there won’t be anything I can do to help you.” Trials: I rolled my eyes. “Just gonna ask me to do this, then hang me out to dry, huh? Well, I’ll just have to not get caught!”

On the way out, Ruin and I met the Court Mage; “Ulene Hlervu,” which is just about the hardest name to pronounce I’ve yet encountered. Yes, harder to pronounce than “Falanu Hlaalu.” While I struggled with her name, she introduced herself. Ulene: “Perhaps you’ve been warned off me as a scandalous, blasphemous scoffer and cynic?” Trials: “Oh, so you’re that Oh-Lean-To Hurl-View.” Ulene: “...close enough.“ Trials: “So you’re an Edgy Naytheist?” Ulene: “Oh yes. I despise the gods and those who bow before them.” Trials: “Really? Even Lorkhan?” Ulene: “Yes.” Trials: “Shor?” Ulene: “...yeeeees?” Trials: “Shezarr?” Ulene: “Yes!” Trials: “Sep?” Ulene: She stomped her foot. “Those’re all the same god!” Trials: “You sure know a lot about the gods, nerd!” Ulene: She grumbled. “Look, all I’m trying to say, is, the Nine Divines are a joke. Do they even exist? I’ve never seen any evidence. “Now, the Daedra Lords, worship them and you get effects... bad ones, of course, but clear and measurable effects.” Trials: “Preachin’ to the choir there, sister. I have no idea why anyone would worship those selfish jerks!” Ulene: “And they call me a cynic? You sound like you’ve been burned before, but you should know that not all the Daedra are like that. “The Azura coven in the Jeralls north of Cheydinhal... nice folks. Nothing like the blood-drinking Daedra worshipers everyone raves about.” Trials: “Huh... and you really think it’s worth the time to go meet them?” Ulene: “Little girl, when a Malthiest thinks you’re the jaded one, it’s a good sign that you need to get out there and lighten up a bit. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.” Huh, dunno if this is a good idea or not, but my curiosity is piqued. I may go out and look for this coven, and see what they have to say about their Daedra Lord.

The prospect of breaking into a Guard-Captain’s quarters, which were in the guards’ barracks, was not one I was looking forward to. Llevana’s scheme, whatever it was, was looking more and more attractive by the minute. But Garrus seemed sure it would get her into trouble, and the poor woman has been through enough as it was. If I can get back at Ulrich without getting her in hot water, then it’s worth a try as my first resort. When I arrived, it was thankfully between shifts. The guards in the barracks were asleep, and nobody was coming in. It was the perfect time to strike, so I quickly picked the lock, and slipped into Ulrich’s quarters. The place was cozy, with an extravagant bed and some posh furniture. A little cramped for my tastes, I wouldn’t want to hang out here all day, but it was a nice, classy bedroom. A quick search, and upon the dresser, I found a note. It looked like it had been freshly written, so I cracked it open, and gave it a read. The gist; it was a letter by Ulrich, to his cousins, explaining how he had been skimming the fines he’d enforced and funneling the money home and into extravagant projects, like a summer keep. Well, I’d say a signed confession of his misdeeds counts as ‘evidence’. From here, it was just a matter of slipping back out and delivering this to Garrus. Llevana’s probably not going to be too happy that I didn’t go with her plan, but I’d rather have her mad at me than to have her in the dungeon.

On the way out, I heard some noise, and ducked back behind the door, peering out. I’d finished just in time for a shift-change, as new guards were coming in to have their rest, while the one’s already here got dressed and headed out once more. I hid out while the guards swapped off, and waited it out until I was sure the new contingent of guards were asleep, before finally slipping out into the barracks. Once out of Ulrich’s quarters, I thought of just sneaking out of the door, but thought I’d heard something while I was hiding. I think the guards were ribbing each other because one of them was had a ‘cushy job’ as the Vault Guard. As I recalled this, Septim Signs ka-ching’d in my eyes, and I slunk slowly up the stairs to the guards’ beds. This was probably a very, very bad idea, but greed does strange things to a lizard, turning a coward into a reckless fortune-seeker, and once I was up by the guards’ beds, I slipped over toward the one I recognized as the vault guard, and carefully, slowly, slipped my hand into his pocket. It took a bit of rooting around, but I felt three keys in his pocket. A bit more rooting, and I noticed that one felt different from the others. With a deft hand, I plucked the key from his pocket, without rousing his suspicions. He didn’t even so much as twitch in his sleep! Damn, I’m good. I slipped the key into my pocket, as I wasn’t going to pursue the treasure of the vault just yet. I had this case to finish, and I wanted to check out Cheydinhal for a little while longer before having to run from town and lie low for a while.

I picked up Ruin after that, and we returned to the castle, finding Garrus in the main hall. Garrus: “You’re back. Good. Did you find the evidence?” Trials: “Believe it or not, I pulled it off. I snuck into a Guard-Captain’s quarters right under the nose of all of the guards sleeping in the barracks, and found a letter he’d written where he confesses to the crimes.” I passed the letter to Garrus. Garrus: “Excellent!” He paused to read the letter, before continuing. “This letter will spell his undoing when I present it to Count Indarys. Splendid work, splendid work indeed!” Ruin: “Will this evidence really hold up? It was not exactly procured in the ‘by the book’ manner.” Garrus: “While I’m loath to bend the rules, it’s the only way to stop Ulrich from breaking them. That said, I suppose the Count doesn’t need to know who my source is. “Now, I must hasten to the Count and deliver this immediately. Please, meet me back at the Cheydinhal Bridge Inn in about two hours.” Well, our part of the job is done. Nothing else for it but to let Garrus do his part, and hope that the shady Count will do his job.

Like Garrus’ asked, we hoofed it over to the Bridge Inn, and sat around for a while, ordered some drinks, and just stewed until two hours had passed, and Garrus finally arrived with news. Garrus: “After speaking to the Count, and in light of the evidence you recovered, Ulrich has been removed from his post and arrested. In addition; many guards are coming forward with more evidence of his greed, so it’s safe to say he’ll be spending quite a bit of time in the city dungeons.” Trials: “Wow, didn’t take much for his accomplices to throw him under the carriage. Guess that means Ulrich’s the only one taking the fall for his crimes?” Garrus: “Officially, yes. But I’ve also been promoted to the post of Captain, and in my new capacity, I plan on making life hard for every guard who was complicit in Ulrich’s schemes.” Trials: “Cool. Don’t forget who helped you get there. You owe me one.” Garrus: “We do. You helped to bring Ulrich’s hold on Cheydinhal to an end, and without unnecessary bloodshed. As a token of our gratitude, as you did this at the risk of false imprisonment or perhaps your life, we reward you this bounty of gold.” Garrus passed me a large sack of coins, to which I was flustered, eyes wide. Trials: “Wow! I... I'm speechless. A little recognition for my hard work. Stunning!” Garrus: “On behalf of the people of Cheydinhal, I thank you!” Trials: “So is Ulrich already getting acquainted with his new home? I’d love to go and rub it in his face.” Garrus: “Indeed he is. And after what his greed did to Aldos, he deserves to eat some crow. Be my guest!”

One trip back to the castle later, and I took a quick dive into the dungeon. After speaking to the jailor on duty, Ruin and I were down there, and staring down Ulrich from across prison bars. Trials: “How’s the dungeon treatin’ you, Leland?” Ulrich: “Unless you relish the thought of decorating the end of my blade with your blood, I would get out of my sight!” Trials: “...what ‘blade’? You got a stick up your butt?” Ulrich: “Who are you? Why is there some lizard-wench harassing me? I don’t even belong here!” Trials: “Oh, me? I’m the reason you’re stuck here. By the way, tell your cousins I said ‘hi’.” Ulrich: “...you?? You!?” He grabbed at the bars of his cell, rattling them. “You witch! Rabble-rouser! Scavenger! I had a good racket going here and you ruined it! When I get out of here, you’ll pay!” Trials: “If I had a Septim for every time a Guard-Captain I’ve put in prison threatened to break out and take revenge... I’d have two Septims.” Ulrich: “...that’s not that much, really.” Trials: “It’s more than you’ve got, now, ya broke fop.” Ulrich: He rattled his bars further, growling. “I swear, I’ll see you slapped in irons! You’ll rue the day you crossed Ulrich Leland!” Trials: I yawned. “Dude, I’m a courier. I hear threats like that every Tirdas. “But, hey, gotta run. Enjoy the dungeons, loser!” Another case in the bag! It’s a shame I couldn’t do much more for Aldos Othran than avenge him. Also sucks that the guard who actually did it gets off scott-free. I’ll just have to trust that Garrus will keep his word and lean on all of the crooked guards who had a hand in Ulrich’s schemes. For now; I’ll poke around Cheydinhal a bit more to see if there’s anymore work.

[forged-through-trials]

Ruin and I legged back toward the entrance to Kerrach. There was found the Ayleid King, as well as all of the other ghosts I’d helped along this journey. I approached the king, and presented him with the white crystal. Ayleid King: “...You have it... champion... I can feel it... the Heart of Kerrach... give it to me... yes, YES!” Trials: “Why do you talk like that?” Ayleid King: “In... life... I had... a strOOOOOke.” Trials: “...well, sorry about that. Do go on.” Ayleid King: “We... are free... my people... free at last... Dagon’s spawn thrown down... thanks to our champion... our savior...” Trials: “...” I flushed, covering my face in embarrassed humility. Ayleid King: He held the crystal in his hands. “...I feel the Heart pulsing... it calls to me... to us... to all my people... we must go now to our reward...” Ruin: “Your reward?” Ayleid King: “Our reward is... to die the final death... to sleep forever... It has been so long... too long... We wish for peace...” Ruin: “I cannot imagine your torment. But you will have your peace at last.” Ayleid King: “...But you... our champion... your reward is not that... your reward is different...” Trials: “I...” I hesitated for a moment. “I don’t need a reward.” Ayleid King: “...Once... when Kerrach... was green... and the waters... flowed... bright and blue... when birds sang... in the trees... Then I would have given you... jewels... and riches... power... but no longer... now all I have... is the Sigil of Kerrach... symbol of my people... please... take it... it will help you... as it has helped me... these many ages... take it... and remember us...” Trials: “...” Reluctantly, I accepted the ring. Ayleid King: “...And now... champion... there is one... last task... to perform... for Kerrach...” Trials: “...anything. Name it, and I’ll do it.” Ayleid King: “...To watch our joyous death... to watch our passing... and to remember... us... there are no others now... remember us... “...We go now... to our reward... follow us... to the sacred well... and farewell...” The ghosts of Kerrach vanished one by one, fading from this room. When all of them had disappeared, Ruin and I rushed over toward the great well as instructed, as I was eager to offer that last service to these poor ghosts.

We arrived just in time. The formerly enslaved ghosts arranged themselves around the well, and the Ayleid King bathed the Heart of Kerrach crystal into the light-column over the well. The ritual had begun, and the king spoke words, which I didn’t understand, but I presumed that I was hearing the words of the ancient Ayleid language... which raised all kinds of questions about where these ghosts learned to speak Cyrodiilic. As the ritual commenced, and the Ayleid King spoke his long-forgotten words, pillars of light shot out from the statue of El-Ataran, and one by one, the ghosts that I had rescued vanished in brilliant bursts of light, starting at the far left from where I was facing the well, then the one to the furthest right, then the one to the inner right, then the one to the inner left, now leaving only the king himself. He spoke some final words in his ancient tongue, and as he vanished in the final burst of light, I felt that feeling of being squeezed through a tube of ice, and Ruin and I quickly found ourselves outside of Breakneck Lair. It was night, exceedingly late, and we both were tired as hell. Yet, I felt good. Sure, the Ayleids, in life, were bad guys--slavers!--but even they didn’t deserve slavery. After thousands of years under the torment of the Dremora, they’d more than paid the price for their crimes. It was more than time for them to go free, and I was happy to be the one to finally send them to their rest. And I am happy to be the one to carry the memory of Kerrach, as the king had requested. The last living reminder of a forgotten city and people.

Of course, it being nearly 3AM when we got out of there, we had to hike back to town through the dark to get our own rest. The following day, Ruin and I made the rounds to the shops, selling off the loot we’d plundered from Kerrach. That eventually brought us back to Mach-Na’s Books. While browsing her wares and offering my own, I remembered what she’d said the day before, about the local guards shaking her down. I asked if she could elaborate on the situation. Mach-Na: “Ever since Ulrich Leland took over the Captain of the Guard post, this city’s gone downhill. It’s getting almost scary to walk the streets.” Trials: I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Really, a Captain!? I guess we’re going to have to track down two witnesses to the Emperor picking his nose if we wanna oust him.” Ruin: “That’s still bugging you, isn’t it? Well, perhaps because this is not the Imperial City, the laws might be a little more lax this far out east. “But ma’am, go on. How has the situation deteriorated since Leland became Captain?” Mach-Na: “The guards have imposed new, ridiculously heavy fines for every infraction under the sun! They almost seem to make up laws just for charging fines.” Trials: “Really? Like what?” Mach-Na: “It is considered an offense to shower naked. “Stepping on a coin will be punished by a flogging. “Eating a neighbor’s baby is strictly forbidden--” Trials: “I would hope that last one would be illegal!” Mach-Na: “And lastly, it is illegal to die inside the town limits.” Trials: “Good luck collecting on that one.” Mach-Na: “If you can’t pay the fine, they can take your property away or toss you in the castle dungeon. Nothing we can do about it, really. “If you’re interested, go talk to Llevana Nedaren. She seems the most outspoken against Ulrich and his new fines.”

Ruin and I were on the case, and went seeking “Llevana Nedaren” as instructed. We found her near the town graveyard, and I got her attention, and spoke to her. Llevana: “You seem far too nice to be one of Ulrich’s men. What can I do for you?” Trials: “Well, you might say we’re investigating Leland’s administration. What can you tell us about the new fines he’s imposed?” Llevana: “Don’t even get me started! That madman won’t be satisfied until everyone in town is dead broke! Or in jail. I’m sure he’s just lining his pockets with the gold of the good citizens of Cheydinhal. “Take my good friend, ‘Aldos Othran,’ for example. In the last moth, he’s been fined six times! All for being drunk and disorderly.” Ruin: “Umm, was he?” Llevana: “Have you ever gone past a guard barracks? When are the not ‘drunk and disorderly’?? What kind of a stupid fine is that!?” Ruin: “That’s... not really how the law--” Trials: “’Rules for thee, not for me.’ Preachin’ to the choir, there, Sister.” Ruin: “...” He sighed. “Well, what became of your friend?” Llevana: “Well, Aldos couldn’t pay the last two fines, so they seized his home and threw him into the street until he could pay it. Bastards!” Trials: Sardonically. “You know, because being homeless is just so conducive to making money.” Ruin: “Trials, you’re homeless, and you have--” Trial: I immediately covered Ruin’s mouth. “Ruin, please don’t say out loud how much gold I have in a town where the guards are actively shaking people down for money.” Ruin: He brushed my hand aside, turning to Llevana once more. “Is there anyone who can help? The Count, perhaps?” Llevana: “The Count? He could care less about our plight. As long as the roast suckling pig is delivered to his feast-table, he’s as happy as can be. “But now that you mention it, there’s one man who seems to care; ‘Garrus Darelliun,’ second-in-command of the town guard. I hear he isn’t happy with Ulrich. I’m not sure if there’s anything he can do, but you might try speaking to him. He can be found roaming the County Hall of the castle most of the time.”

Thusly tipped off, we made for the castle, whereupon we saw the Count holding court. Garrus was in attendance. I thought briefly of speaking to Count Indarys himself, but after the experience in the Imperial City, and in Skingrad, I knew going to the top wouldn’t get me very far. Instead, we spoke to Garrus as instructed, once we were able to get him alone. Garrus: “What do you want?” Trials: “Hey, we’re kind of new in town, but we’ve been hearing some rumors about guard-corruption, and I was wondering if we could speak to you about it?” Garrus: “It appears you’ve spoken to Llevana, from the sound of it. I know she sounds like a raving madwoman, but she isn’t far from the truth. Ulrich is definitely up to something.” Ruin: “What makes you suspect him?” Garrus: “While Ulrich keeps his quarters locked, I’ve managed to get a glimpse inside once. The things he has in there could never be purchased on a Captain’s salary. At first I thought maybe he was from wealthy stock, but many of the goods have been delivered recently.” Trials: “Agreed, that sounds super sus’. So, why don’t we just skip the ‘two witnesses to Ulrich scratching his butt’ step and go straight to the Count?” Garrus: “I’d love to bring him to task in front of Count Indarys, but I dare not without a solid witness that will speak against him.” Trials: Sardonically. “Oh? Only one witness needed? How novel. “Anyway, Llevana seems ready to scream her head off about Ulrich at any opportunity. How about we get her to testify?” Garrus: “Honestly, she’s never done anything to be fined or get into trouble... yet. The person I’d love to bring in as a witness is Aldos Othran... that is, if we can sober him up for five minutes! “I haven’t approached him myself, as Ulrich has eyes everywhere--” Trials: “It sounds like it’s more than just Ulrich who is in on this. AGAB continues to be my Watch-Words.” Garrus: “...’Assigned Goose at Birth’?” Trials: “...” I shook my head. “No it means...” I thought better of it. “Never mind. I get it, we’re new in town, so Ulrich won’t be watching out for us. We’ll see if we can talk to Aldos for you. Where can we find him?” Garrus: “Aldos is living on the street now that his house has been seized. I begged Ulrich to give him more time, but he wouldn’t! “It shouldn’t be hard to find Aldos. Just follow the smell of stale mead.” Ruin: “That may just lead us back to Trials.” Trials: “Hey! I drink fresh mead!” Garrus: “One last word of warning; beware of Ulrich. I wouldn’t confront him at this time, as he’ll surely have you thrown in jail. And I’m sure I don’t need to tell you the consequences if you choose to strike him down. Even if Ulrich doesn’t do things by the letter of the law, I do.” Trials: “Ya know that sticking to ‘the letter of the law’ is what’s allowing Ulrich to get away with all this, right? And what ‘law’ says; ‘when in doubt, hire some drunk lizard to do ninety-percent of the legwork for you?’“ Garrus: “It’s right here, on page forty-two.” He offered me his guardsman’s handbook. Trials: I look into the book, finding the relevant passage immediately. “Huh... well I’ll be damned.” Garrus: “Why do you think the Empire tolerates adventurers in the first place? I mean, other than because one seems to save the world every few years?”

Once we were back on the street, we noticed this guard standing in front of a house. I assumed that must’ve been Aldos Othran’s former home. With no better leads, I decided to chat up the guard to see if he could point me toward Aldos. Guard: “I’m sorry, no one except the Cheydinhal City Guard are allowed inside this home. Due to outstanding fines owed to the city, Aldos Othran’s property has been seized and is now sealed until further notice.” Trials: “Ho, Class-Traitor. I was wondering if you could pull those jackboots off of the neck society long enough to point me in the direction of the previous owner of this newly stolen property.” Guard: He scowled. “Hey, I don’t need this sass. I’m just doing my job!” Trials: I waved a hand in front of my face with disgust. “Oooph, and which part of your job forbids you from dental hygiene? Just because I know you’ve been huffing your own farts doesn’t mean your breath needs to actually smell like it.” Guard: “Yeah... well...” He attempted a Speech-roll. “You’re... your hair is stupid!” [ Failed. ] Trials: I smirked knowingly. “Uh-huh, yeah, I’m sure your mother was very proud when you flunked out of the Fighters Guild and took this position as a consolation prize. I can’t imagine how stressful it is to guard an empty building all day. I’m sure Ulrich only sends his best for jobs like this! “Now could you please point that guar-butt you call a mouth away from me and tell me where I can find Aldos Othran?” Guard: “...” He scowled all the harder. “I’m going to talk to Ulrich and have him make back-talking a City Guardsman a fineable offense!” Trials: “Sure, hell, I got the coin to pay to dis you all day. How’s it feel to know some drunk lizard makes more in a day than you do in a year? But man-oh-man, imagine carrying a big sword on your hip and being that insecure. Sorry, can’t relate!” Guard: Visibly fuming. “Just... just get out of my face, lizard! Othran is in the alley to the left.” Ruin: “...did you really have to be so rude to him?” Trials: “I didn’t have to be, but I wanted to be, and when nine-times-out-of-ten I wind-up doing these chumps’ job for them, and the tenth-time-out-of-ten I wind-up cleaning up their corruption, I’m going to take every opportunity I can to rub their noses in it.”

By the City Wall, we finally found the Elf himself; Aldos Othran. Aldos: Singing. “Flyyyyyy, flying in the skyyyyy! Cliff-Racer fly soooooo hiiiiiiiigh! Flyyyyy!” Trials: “...ugh, please don’t remind me of those vile creatures. I still have nightmares of them chasing me across Lord Dres’ plantation.” Aldos: Slurred. “...wh-who’re you?” Ruin: He fanned away the air in front of his face and looked disgusted. “...Garrus really wasn’t kidding about the stale mead.” Trials: “Hey, we were wondering if we could talk to you about testifying against Ulrich Leland?” Aldos: “Ha! That stupid s’wit!? Throw me out of my home, will he?” Trials: “Well, uh, we’re working on getting your house back. We just need you to--” Aldos: “I’ll show him a thing or two about messing with an Othran!” Trials: “Okay, fine, just ignore me. I’ll be here when you finish raving.” Aldos: “All I did was fall down, sure. Maybe even vomited on the floor of the tavern. Charge me six times, Ulrich...? Charge me, you fetcher!?” Ruin: “That does sound like it ought to be up to he owner of the tavern to charge you.” Trials: “Six times! What, did they charge you per chunk you blew?” Aldos: “Well, I’m not standin’ for this any more. You, come with me and I’ll show you what the Othrans can do when their backs are to the wall!” Trials: “...I have a bad feeling about this.”

Aldos stormed off after that. Ruin and I gave chase, following him back toward his old home, where he immediately confronted the guard out front of it. Aldos: “This is my house! Get out of the way... move, I say!” Guard: “Sir, this property has been seized by his lordship, the Count of Cheydinhal. Leave immediately.” Trials: “Oh, Aldos, I don’t think this is a good ide--” Aldos: “I said move! Or by my ancestors I’ll put you on the ground with a split lip!” Trials: “Aldos, antagonize the guard, but don’t threaten him!” Ruin: “Actually, don’t antagonize him, either.” Guard: “Sir, I must warn you that threatening a city guardsman is an offense punishable by a fine of no less than 50 gold. Pay, or be jailed!” Trials: “...I don’t think you understand what a ‘warning’ is. Hint; it doesn’t include an ‘or else.’” Aldos: “You s’wit! How dare you! Ulrich be damned! He can take his fine and stuff it up his backside!” Trials: “As much as I appreciate that burn, you’re just diggin’ yourself deeper, Aldos.” Guard: “You’ve been warned. You are now under arrest. Please come with me.” Trials: I stomped my foot. “Look, bootlicker, I’ll pay his fine, just leave the man al--” Aldos: “I’ll go nowhere with you, fetcher! Nowhere!”

Guard: “Sir, I must inform you that dying within the city limits is an offense--” Trials: “You killed him, you bastard!” Guard: “You saw what happened. I had no choice! Aldos attacked first, and I had to defend myself.” Trials: “He came at you with a rusty butter-knife! That thing wouldn’t cut scrib-jelly!” Guard: “If you don’t like it, take it up with Ulrich.” Trials: I narrowed my eyes at him. “You know, one day honest citizens are going to stand up to you crooked guardsmen!” Guard: He gasped, looking panicked. “They are!? Oh no! H-have they set a date?” Trials: I rolled my eyes. “Oh, so you’re a murdering thug and an idiot. Good to know.”

This was a fine mess to find myself in. Our key-witness was dead, and I had to bring the grim news to Llevana. She was Aldos’ best friend, so I’m sure she’d want to know what happened to him. I found her in her home, which was right next to Aldos’ former home. Llevana: Deadpan. “Oh no. They killed him? I can’t believe this.” Trials: “You don’t sound very broken up about it. I thought you were his best friend?” Llevana: “Although there is no change in my patrician facade, I can assure you my heart is breaking. “I’d grown to become fond of him. I wanted to take him into my house, but I was afraid. Now look what’s become of him.” Trials: “Aww, you wanted to be the next ‘Mrs. Othran’.” Llevana: With anger slowly boiling to the surface. “There are no more options left! Ulrich must be dealt with, and actions speak louder than words!” Trials: I blinked in surprise. “Whoa, that escalated quickly!” Llevana: “Dark elves come in two modes; drunk, and angry. And sometimes angry-drunk!” Trials: “Preachin’ to the choir, there, sister.” Llevana: “Now, you must do something for me! Go tell Ulrich that I have some information that incriminates him. Tell him to come alone, or he won’t get it. Then lead him here, and I’ll do the rest.” Ruin: “That seems like a rather obvious trap, madam. Are you certain Ulrich would fall for it?” Trials: “He might. If guardsmen were smart, they wouldn’t need me to solve ninety-nine percent of their problems for them.” Ruin: “Are you actually thinking of going along with this plan?” Trials: “Why not? Ulrich’s a bastard, and with our key-witness dead, what’re the chance’s he’ll ever see justice otherwise?” Ruin: “This does not sound like you, my friend. I think we should consult Garrus first before we make any rash decisions. He may be able to help us through the proper channels.” Trials: I sighed. “Fine, but only as a favor to you, Ruin. We’ll talk to Garrus first, but if he asks me to pull two more witnesses out of my butt, I’m going to punch him in the nose!”

[forged-through-trials]

I checked my map to see where Rythor had marked Bloodvein Mine. Turns out the place was quite out of the way, on the other side of the Niben from Bravil. Getting there meant traversing the Red Ring Road until it connected to the Yellow Road, and then heading way south. We still had pressing business near Cheydinhal way, so I opted to put a pin in that job and head north to the City of Arkay instead. It was a long hike, but still early morning by the time we arrived. Just in time for the shops to open up for the day. I hit a few of them to trade in the treasures plundered from bandits along the road up here, and making those rounds eventually brought us to Mach-Na’s Books. The owner, Mach-Na, lit up upon seeing me. Mach-Na: “Books. I sell books. Go ahead. Look. Buy some.” Trials: I waved on the way in. “Huh, are you in charge, here? The guard who pointed me toward this place said it was owned by ‘a surly old man.’“ Mach-Na: “Yeah, the uncultured swine in this town are still getting used to the real me.” Trials: “...” My eyes lit up with realization. “Oooooohh.” Mach-Na: “So, gonna buy some books, or do you just feel like loitering and gawking all day?” Trials: I rolled my eyes. “Pushy, pushy. Jeez, I’m only here to browse.” Mach-Na: “This ain’t a library, little girl. Either do business or move along.” Trials: Grumbling. “Well, they sure got the ‘surly’ part right. Anyway, if it’s business you’re lookin’ for, I’ve got a pitch to make to ya. “I represent a ‘Thalonias of Weye’. He’s looking for a Book-Supplier for his shop.” Mach-Na: “Huh... now that is a promising proposal. Tell Thalonias ‘I’m in.’ I just need a little seed-money to cover the first shipment.” Trials: “Oh, here we go!” I rolled my eyes again. Mach-Na: “Hey, I’ve got the guards shaking me down and I’ve got... uh, certain ‘expenses’ that I need to cover.” Trials: I grit my teeth. “Is there any town in this Hist-Forsaken province where the guards aren’t shaking people down for gold? “Ruin, we’ve got another job; remind me to look into local guard corruption when we get back from Kerrach.” Ruin: “I’ll add it to the ever-growing list.” I payed Mach-Na the seed money. So, now we have two of the three suppliers Thalonias needed for his new shop. We just need to find a clothier willing to work with the Breton, and we’ll be all set. That action was done, so now it was time to retire. Rather than head out immediately, I decided that me and Ruin could use a quick break to rest, read some books, clean and repair our gear, all that kind of stuff. I mean, sure, there’re a lot of enslaved ghosts in Kerrach who have been waiting patiently for me to return, but I’m no good to them if I’m exhausted and my gear is broken, right?

I awoke from my nap to the sounds of commotion. I woke Ruin immediately, remembering what a heavy sleeper he could be. He darted up immediately and raced for the stairs, just as someone dressed in beggars rags, and holding a blunt and rusted dagger, raced up the stairs and rounded the corner, into the room. Ruin and some of my Fighters Guild coworkers tried to fend him off, but the bum was single minded in his approach at me. I drew Light of Dawn immediately and engaged him, and with no armor and such a puny weapon, he was felled in one hit. Trials: “Why are bums trying to murder me, now?” Ruin: “He’s not just any ordinary bum. Look.” Trials: I inspected the bum, my eyes narrowing. “That skeezy horseshoe mustache is familiar.” I picked his pocket, and found a note within. It was a brief, and bitter record, revealing that the dead bum was Audens Avidius. He got out of prison using some kind of secret passage in the IC’s dungeon, there apparently for the use of the Royal Family. Huh, I’ll file that info away for later. It might come in hand if I ever find myself a “guest” in the Imperial City’s dungeon. Ruin and I had to help our Fighters Guild brothers in disposing of the body. For a guy who’s spent a week being starved in the Imperial Watch’s dungeon, he was heavier than Hans Black-Nail’s reading material! Hauling him out of the guild hall was quite the chore.

Once the body had been dealt with, Ruin and I were free to concluded our rest, and then we returned, at last, to Breakneck Lair. Once we fought our way passed the goblins that infested the cave, we dug our way down, back into Kerrach. Once back in the Ayleid ruins, we’d found that the Dremora had rebuilt their forces. It meant fighting our way through the hordes once again, but Ruin and I were both stronger, faster, and smarter than we were the first time we’d dived down here, and with skill and patience, we snuck and struck, picking off the Dremora as we worked our way back toward the heart of Kerrach. Our first stop was back into Kerrach Ageasal. Sure, we’d defeated that big, bad Dremora Lieutenant who guarded the Waters of Anu, but we’d never resolved the situation with that Ghost-Wizard. As much as he made me want to punch him, he didn’t deserve to remain in bondage. So back into the Ageasal we went, searching the place from top to bottom. It was in the gardens that we found the scroll the Ghost-Wizard had spoken of. I inspected the scroll for a while, but couldn’t make heads or tails of it... save for that one symbol that looked like a little hand giving a thumbs up. That let me know that everything was cool! With scroll in hand, we returned to the entrance of the Ageasal, and presented it to the Ghost-Wizard. Ghost-Wizard: “You have it! You have the scroll! Give it to me, and we will save Kerrach!” Trials: “...liiiiiittle late for that, but, um, here.” I passed him the scroll. Ghost-Wizard: He accepted the scroll, and immediately his demeanor changed. “...OH ANU WHAT HAVE I DONE!? “I... see now... it was me, wasn’t it? It was I who used this scroll to summon the Dremora, destroyed Kerrach.” Trials: “That’s right, pal. You are the Tomato!” Ghost-Wizard: “What... what have I done? What have I done!? I must flee! Must escape!” He ran from the room, rushing out the door. Trials: “Huh. Ya know, it’s not ‘punching him,’ but I’ll take it!” I grinned.

That done, Ruin and I returned to the lava pools of Kerrach. Silly as it may sound, I never did return the Waters of Anu to their resting place in the fountain. It’s just been sitting in my pack this whole time. So now it was time to finally hoist the lid off of this well, and upend the bottle into it. The water seemed to flow for minutes on end. The bottle was only only about the size of my fist, and yet the water flowed on and on from it as I held it over the well. It flowed like the tears of an Akiveeb on Prom Night, and finally, after minutes upon minutes of holding this vial over the well, the well was filled, the water shimmering, as a pillar of light shown out from the water, above the well. Though my expertise with magic was considerably lacking, I had a sense that this conduit of light led somewhere. But that would have to wait; I’d returned the Waters of Anu to their resting place, but I still needed to retrieve the Pommel-Stone for the statue of El-Ataran. My thief “treasure-hunter” instincts told me I would find it through the door that was across from Kerrach Ageasal.

The door in question was marked as “Kerrach Buroseli.” Through the door, we trekked down some stairs, and we came upon a balcony overlooking a lava pool. Left from the pool were some tunnels, and the left most pathway, there, led to a large room. A chain stretched from ceiling into a pool of lava, and I could hear screams of agony coming from the within the pool. Ruin and I quickly dispatched the few Dremora who guarded the room, and after a quick look around, I found a large button on the wall. Well, I had no idea what it did... but having no idea what I’m doing never stopped me before! So I hit the button. A large cage rose out of the lava pit, containing one of the Ghosts of Kerrach. Well, that explains the screams of agony... wait, no it doesn’t! This just raises further questions! How do you hold a ghost in a cage!? Another press of the button opened the cage, allowing the caged ghost to walk free. He approached, and spoke to me. Caged Ghost: “I am... free? Free from the eternal burning.” Trials: “As long as you stay away from the Psychotic Chili Peppers, yes!” Caged Ghost: “You have rescued me... but you are one of the slave-races...” Trials: I smiled with faked mirth. “Heeeeeey! Call me that again and I’m gonna shove you back into that cage!” Ruin: “Trials, please be nice to him. He is just confused.” Caged Ghost: “Where are the soldiers? Are they retaking the Buroseli? You must go help them!” Trials: “The soldiers are kind of long-gone, my man. So, uh, what even is this place?” Caged Ghost: “The ‘Buroseli’ is our prison. Twisted, now. By the Dremora? Or us? I cannot remember. It has been so long... “The inmates wander the halls... all the defenses gone wild... all run by that Dremora fiend in the spire. He has taken the Pommel-Stone from the Sword of El-Ataran... twisted the justice that once ruled here...” Trials: “The Pommel-Stone? That’s what we’re looking for.” Ruin: “We will recover the Pommel-Stone and vanquish the fiend. You just get yourself to safety. Your king awaits you outside.” The Caged Ghost fled after that, leaving Ruin and I with a hint to where we needed to go next. We needed to find the Dremora who held the Pommel-Stone, and recover it.

Looping around, Ruin and I had to skip across pools of lava before coming upon a long, narrow hallway. We ducked traps and other patrolling Dremora, before coming upon a door labeled as “The Rending Spire.” This seemed to be the spire the Caged Ghost spoke of, meaning we may find the Pommel-Stone within. The door exited onto a raised, cross-shaped platform overlooking some pits. The four pits in each corner of the room definitely didn’t look like places I wanted to hang out in; filled with skeletons and blood. Falling blade traps separated the center of the platform, and in that center was... some weird, spiked, circular platform that I’m guessing was some kind of lift. The Dremora who guarded the lift were dealt with thanks to a few well-placed arrows. Afterward, Ruin and I boarded the lift, and ascended. Gotta say, when the Master Torturer--the Dremora in charge of this spire--came into view, I kind of wish I could have seen us from his perspective. I must’ve looked so badass slowly rising into view, Light of Dawn drawn, ready to fight this dork. The Master Torturer was a cut above the other Dremora, so he didn’t go down as easily as his fodder-troops. We clashed swords, and he was good about dividing his attention between Ruin and myself, using his gauntlet to deflect Ruin’s blows while crossing his axe against my sword. He was quite strong, enough so that he could deflect my blows while wielding that axe masterfully. He, however, didn’t count on the enchantments in our weapons. Even as he deflected and blocked blows, he was burned by fires hot enough to purge vampires, and chilled by frost that even a Nord would struggle to resist. Eventually the flames burned his hands so badly, and the frost slowed him so terribly, that he just couldn’t deflect a blow I aimed right for the mouthpiece of his helmet, sliding Light of Dawn right through his face. I could hear him gurgle, as ichor foamed up around the holes in his helmet, and he dangled and danced on my blade like a puppet with cut-strings, before I gave a firm yank, and pulled the sword from his face. He flopped to the floor, his Vestige banished, his physical form abandoned. Once the Master Torturer was down, I was able to approach the glowing stone in one corer of the room. A dark glowing ball I guessed to be the Pommel-Stone, and so I slipped it into my pack. That was done, and now it was just a matter of returning the way we came, through all of the traps and other pitfalls, back into lava island around Kerrach’s well. I could see the statue of El-Ataran on a balcony above the well. It was out of reach for the moment, leaving little other options other than to explore the pillar of light above the well.

We were teleported from the well, through a portal into the spire behind the statue of El-Ataran. Teleportation sure felt weird; like I was being squeezed through a tube made of ice! We emerged into this place, this “Spire of Shattered Hopes”; a tower that chillingly mixed the Ayleid with the Daedric. It was a long, hard trek ahead, froth with danger, as we sniped down foes and progressed. Through the first set of doors Ruin and I found, we entered the “Garden of Desolation” whereupon we found another Alyeid ghost, this one being assaulted by Clannfears. Well those raptor/triceratops mofos couldn’t stand up to a flurry of arrows, and thus the ghost was saved from his torment. Tormented Ghost: “I thank you for my rescue, friend.” Trials: “See, now, why can’t more of you ghosts call me ‘friend’. That’s considerably a better nickname than the... alternative I’ve been called up ‘til now.” Tormented Ghost: “I’ve been endlessly devoured by those clannfears for... a very long time, just say.” Ruin: “Sounds horrible.” Trials: “It is. I’ve tried eating ectoplasm before; tastes like toe-jam.” Ruin: “...is there anything you haven’t tried to eat?” Trials: “I’ve never had Dwemer Mushroom Casserole before.” Ruin: “...that stuff is four-thousand years old!” Trials: “Yeah, but I still wanna know what it tastes like.” Ruin: “It tastes like it’s four-thousand years old!” While we argued, the Tormented Ghost ran off, hopefully to rejoin his king and fellows. That left us to explore further, and so we moved to the left, past a few traps, up a ramp toward the next level of the Spire of Shattered Hope. We were met with minimal resistance, and advanced into the “Corridors of Twilight.” It was in a corner of those corridors that I found a final ghost. This one cowered in a corner, wailing and whining. Cowering Ghost: “I can’t see! The darkness, it blinds me! Light, I need light! Help me!” I tilted my head at the Cowering Ghost curiously, before snapping my fingers. A moment of digging through my pack later, I presented him with a Potion of Light. He took the potion from me, and immediately drank it. How a ghost is able to drink a potion is baffling to me, but he did, and immediately he began to glow, lighting up that dark corner of the room. Cowering Ghost: “I... I can see! But where am I? What is this place? Where is everyone? How... how long have I been here? I must go and see!” He left, fleeing from the tower. Trials: “Huh. Well, at least he didn’t call me a ‘slave’. Puts a step ahead of the Ghost-Wizard.”

Ruin and I continued our assent, through the “Halls of Deep Night” and finally, out onto the balcony that overlooked the well, holding the statue of El-Ataran. After Ruin and I dealt with a few Clannfears, I investigated the area. Doors labeled as “Throne of Destruction” seemed to be the path forward, but they were blocked by magical barriers. That just left the statue. I pulled the glowing, black stone out of my pack, and moved in toward the statue, slapping it into place on the hilt of the statue’s sword. Immediately the sword began to glow and pulsate with the energies of the Pommel-Stone, and as I turned back around, the glowing barrier that blocked the way to the Throne of Destruction flickered and died, allowing entry.

Dremora 01: “Sir, some of the our Kyn are concerned. We’re suffering heavy casualties.” Asharkalz: “Heavy casualties? How strong are the enemies’ numbers?” Dremora 01: “That’s the thing, sir. It’s just two Argonians.” Asharkalz: “Two Argonians? They should prove no obstacle to me. Assure the Kyn that I will deal with the intruders personally.” Dremora 01: “Yes, sir, but there is another issue. The way these two invaders have curb-stomped our forces have... made some of our Kyn concerned for Lord Dagon’s plans for the future.” Asharkalz: “Concerned?” He laughed loudly. “For what? These two lizards are clearly just unusual. As I said, nothing that I cannot handle. It’s not like we will invade their homeland of Black Marsh in the next few months, only to be thoroughly and embarrassingly beaten, or anything.” Dremora 01: He joined in the laughter. “Heh, you’re right, sir. Could you imagine it? We, defeated by a bunch of lizards? Like, they could overwhelm us. Next, the Kyn will fear that they will capture so much Daedric Equipment from us that they will become a Super-Power among the mortals and invade their neighbors. Ha!” I had no idea what they could have been talking about. But boy-oh-boy, is that Asharkalz’s throne ever extra! This guy is just “Try-Hard” incarnate. Why does he even bother carrying a sword when he has so much edge?

My slights and jeers caught his attention, as he got off his Throne of Compensation and came right at me. Ruin ran interference, dealing with the other Dremora in the throne room, taking on odds of something like five on one, while I One-V-One’d Asharkalz. We clashed swords, and while Light of Dawn burned him, his own sword’s enchantment burned me back. The heat was blistering, and my hands shook as our swords clashed, and magic fire coursed over me and he whenever our blades met. Rather than parry his blows, I opted to dodge them, weaving and ducking his swings, while bringing my sword against his armor. The blade struck resounding clatters, as I chipped away at his armor with hit after hit. He burned with magical fire with each blow, the injuries slowly building up with each strike, as I weaved and dodged the swings of his blade and probed his armor for chinks. I finally found my opening when I ducked a swing of his blade, getting behind him, before spinning on the spot and swinging hard. I caught him at last on the back of his unprotected neck, clipping him hard enough to sever his neck. Ichor gushed from the wound as he crumbled like a rag doll, and I plunged my sword into his back to finish him off. Ruin had finished up his battles as well, having dealt with the remaining Dremora. I looted Asharkalz, and upon him found the Heart of Kerrach--a strange, glowing, white crystal. That was the last thing the Ayleid King said I needed to free his people. Retrieving the Heart, and some nice loot along with it, it was now time to return to the Ayleid King, and see if our efforts pay off.

[forged-through-trials]

I had a package to deliver back in Skingrad, so I paid it one last visit before continuing further East. On the way back, guess who we ran into? M’aiq The Liar: “M’aiq wishes he had a stick made out of fishies to give to you. Sadly, he does not.” Trials: Realization dawned. “Like, I see what you’re saying. The ‘fishy-sticks’ are symbolic of the violence inherent in the system. It grinds down the worker just like the meat of delicious fish is ground down into an inedible stick.” M’aiq The Liar: “...” Trials: “And like a school of fishes rising from the deeps, we need to unite and rise up against the ruling class! Before they crush us into indigestible bricks of processed foodstuffs.” M’aiq The Liar: He was visibly confused. “...lady, I’m just a meme-guy!” Trials: “No, no, you’re right, it’s time for the revolution to begin! We’ll cast down the false-leaders of the empire, as I certainly didn’t vote for them! Dismantle White Gold Tower brick by brick! And when they asked who inspired this uprising, I’ll be sure to tell them it was ‘M’aiq The Liar’.” M’aiq The Liar: “Please don--” Trials: “And when they cut your head off and put your it on a pike, I will be there to salute you, sir, for your sacrif--” I look up to realize I’m speaking to a vaguely M’aiq-shaped dust cloud, as the real M’aiq had already raced down the road. Trials: “...huh. Poor guy. Couldn’t handle the burden of leading the revolution.” [ M’aiq Count: 6 ]

After a while of hiking, we spotted the dig-site in the distance. A few tents, surrounded by trees, on a small island just inside of the river that feeds Niben Bay. Ruin and I drew in closer, and inspected the site. Up close the place was a marvel to behold; the huge trilobite fossil in particular was quite eye-catching. Surely it’s... thousands of years old? Uh, how old is our world? Like, I don’t have the most extensive history background, but the First era was only about three-thousand years long, and the Second Era was only about nine-hundred, and now we’re in the Third Era, and we’re only up to the year 433... I don’t know for sure how long the Dawn and Merithic Eras were, but if the pattern holds true, they were only a few thousand years long at most. Is that even enough time for something to turn into a fossil? Besides the huge “fossil”, the other sight of note was this... cocoon in a tent, dripping some very pungent slime. The smell was enough to make one gag, and I really wondered how the Archie-Guild assistants could stand to be around it. Whatever this stuff is, the guildies seemed to be collecting it. I wonder whatever for? Well, now that we’re here, step one was to speak to the Assistants and see what they had to say.

Assistant Azim: “Don’t you just love field work? The fresh open air... the camping under the starry sky...?” Trials: “The burning smell of whatever that slime is corroding your nose.” Assistant Azim: “Now if you ask me, there’re two reasons why Tumyr is out in the sticks--” Trials: “Is one of them; ‘He’s ducking Teav’s flirtatious advances’?” Assistant Azim: “...okay, three reasons. “But also, because he is a congenital practical joker. One who happens to like pranking his boss, Rythor. Tumyr’s got something against stuffy desk-work, so he used a soul gem on Rythor’s library, which somehow got them to talk in their authors’ voices. He claimed that he’d intended to use it as a tool so that they could provide a sort of commentary to the texts, but what they actually did was to moan constantly about anything that had bothered them in life. Bad backs, pet hates, personal insults, anything.” Trials: “Huh. I wonder what would happen if someone used a soul gem on my Tumble-Scroll?” Assistant Azim: “I think it would start complaining about the glacial pace you’ve been posting at, lately.” Trials: I pouted. “Hey, I get busy sometimes!” Assistant Azim: “And the other reason is that Tumyr is a Khajiit, and he just loves big, green open space.” Trials: I frowned at him. “Hey, that sounds like Profiling. Would you just go and assume that because I’m Argonian I like walking in the rain?” Ruin: “...Trials, you do like walking the rain.” Trials: “...okay, but he shouldn’t go assuming it! “But, hey, you seem to know all the gossip, so what’s the story with your founder, Solan? You all seem to speak about him with such reverence, but I haven’t heard much in the way of details.” Assistant Azim: “You want me to tell you about Solan? Okay, but I don’t know any more than the rest of us about our great founder and pioneer. “Solan originally came from Hammerfell, where his family had been embroiled in the war of Betonys--” Trials: “Zzzzzz...!” Muttering in my sleep. “M-metal gear... grumble-grunt...” Ruin: “Uh, try to go easy on the politics. It puts her to sleep.” Assistant Azim: “...” He sighed slapped me to wake me up. Trials: My face still stinging. “L-Liquid!” Assistant Azim: He rolled his eyes before continuing. “Solan regards people as the keepers of sacred knowledge, and felt that everyone held some special part of Tamriels history in their souls. Trials: “I think my soul holds all of Cyrodiil’s memes!” Assistant Azim: “As such, he was a fanatical humanist, whose sense of charity and reverence of the people earned him the nickname of ‘Solan the Baptist’.” Trials: “...what the heck is a ‘baptist’?” Assistant Azim: “They dunk your head under water while saying prayers and blessings to the divines.” Trials: “I see! Well, next time I’ll be sure to threaten to ‘baptize’ Sova when she gets sassy.” Assistant Azim: “I don’t think she would appreciate that.” Trials: “I’ll just throw in some ancient Alyeid gods and she could call it ‘research’.”

The other assistant on duty here was “Assistant Quovi.” I spoke to her next, as she dusted grit and minerals off of the trilobite fossil. She didn’t have much to say, save to gossip about her superiors at the Archeology Guild. Did you know that Aster Cei is married to a Khajiit? Not one of the Southern city-dwellers, either, but a well-connected and hot-tempered lass from one of the nomadic tribes. Sova, meanwhile, was Born with a Silver Spoon in her mouth, as her snooty attitude might have suggested. Hailing from Skywatch in the Summnerset isles, she enraptured the court there from an early age. She saw the digs over here in Cyrodiil as beneath her, and took time to adjust to it. And she’s not too keen on Nords, Orcs, or... hired goons. Trials: “Hired Goons?” Assistant Quovi: “Don’t pay her too much mind. I hear that Rythor actually prefers the personal touch you only get with Hired Goons.” “Anyway, Sova’s not so bad. Once you get used to bowing to her every morning.”

Finally it was time to enter the big tent, and speak to the Khajiit himself. Gotta say, for someone who loves the great outdoors, his tent sure has a lot of hard-to-transport amenities. I understand that books on paleontology might be important for his work, but the mental image of him carefully arranging his bookshelf every time they make a new camp amused me. Tumyr: “Hello? And who might you be?” Trials: “Hey, I’m ‘Forged-Through-Trials,’ and he’s ‘Ruined-Tail.’ We’re new hires.” Ruin: “A pleasure.” Tumyr: “Really? So nice to meet you. I’m ‘Tumry,’ resident paleontologist.” Trials: “Anyway, we swung by because Teav needs a vial of your famous Dissolving Agent.” Tumyr: “Ah, poor timing, I’m afraid. I’ve run dry of the stuff, for the moment. Used it all to dig out that Ampryx out there.” Trials: “Oh, you mean, the trilobite?” Tumyr: “Yes. It’s a new species I just discovered, so I get to name it. I’ve dubbed it ‘Ampyx Adapsys’.” Trials: “Fascinating stuff, really, but--” Tumyr: “Slithering along the coastline, filter feeding on sand, their chitin exoskeleton and long spines helped protect them from ambush predators.” Trials: I rolled my eyes. “Listen, Tumyr The Science-Guy, we’re here about the Dissolving Agent. If you’re all out, where or when can we get more?” Tumyr: “Oh, making more? That’s easily done, so long as you’ve got the sliiiiiiiime.” Trials: I made a face at him. “Eww, I don’t like how you said ‘slime’. You make it sound vaguely carnal.” Ruin: He visibly paled. “...well, there’s a mental imagine I’m going to be trying to flush for the rest of the day.” Trials: “You and me both, bruh.” Tumyr: He pouted. “I’m just talking about the stuff that leaks from the cocoon I have outside. It’s the active ingredient in my Dissolving Agent. You just mix it with five Green Stain Cup Caps and you have one vial of the agent.” Trials: “...what a coincidence! I happen have five Green Stain Cup Caps right here.” I passed him the Cup Caps. “It’s almost like... there is someone outside of the Aubris who has experienced all of this before and is guiding my actions, or something.”

Tumyr: He blinked in confusion. “...what... is she looking at?” Ruin: He simply shrugged. Tumry: “...” He shook his head, and passed the finished Dissolving Agent to Ruin. “I think I’d better trust this to you.”

Fast forward past a short hike back toward the Archie-Guild castle, and Ruin and I were back and speaking to Teav. Ruin passed him the Dissolving Agent, which delighted Teav, who assured us that after some careful preparation, he could begin to carefully remove the contamination and corrosion obscuring the Metallic Shard’s Inner Matrix to further study the artifact. Teav: “I’ve also got some good news for you. Rythor, our Headmaster, has returned from his expedition. I’ve already put in a good word for you.” Trials: “Aww, thanks! I appreciate your doing that for me.” Teav: “You deserve it. Weird as you are sometimes, you do get the job done. Rythor has told me he’d like to meet you in person. You can find him in the Library.”

A hop, skip and jump later, and we’d found the Library. As you might imagine for the library owned by a bunch of nerds, the place was huge, and filled wall to wall with books... and a giant dragon skull. Gotta say, it’s an effective conversation-starter. Which, given the story Assistant Azim told me about Tumyr’s prank, getting a conversation started isn’t the problem. It’s getting the books to shut up! Book Written by Pelagius III: “And I’ll go into people’s houses at night and wreck up the place!” Dragon Skull: “Well, he’s lost my vote.” Rythor: Obviously irate. “Shut up, both of you! I’m going to kill Tumyr the next time I see him.” He finally noticed Ruin and I, and offered a wave, his demeanor changing immediately. “Greetings. You must be the new recruit I’ve heard so much about.” Trials: “IDidn’tDoEet! Except for the cool stuff. That I did the hell out of!” Rhythor: “...” He straightened his robes anxiously. “Well, I’ve mostly heard only the cool stuff. “I’m ‘Kal Rythor,’ Archeology Guild Headmaster. Teav tells me you’ve done a fine job clearing out that Spire. Given the decent job you did there, and our clear, dire need for some muscle, I’m making you the guild’s official ‘Enforcer.’ You’re now a permanent member, responsible for clearing any hurdles we may run into.” Trials: “Huh. ‘Enforcer’? Makes me sound like a bouncers, or like one of those Made Mer from the Camonna Tong. You’re not gonna send me to go make offers people can’t refuse, are ya?” Rythor: “...” He smiled knowingly. “Funny you should mention that...” Ruin: He frowned thoughtfully. “Oh, here we go.” Rythor: “On the expedition I just returned from, we’d found another Spire, similar to the one you just cleared. There’s more than just one!” Trials: “Well, need me to go in and clear that one out, too?” Rythor: “Not unless you’re into lawn-care. The problem there isn’t monsters, it’s that it’s overgrown with nearly impenetrable vines. There is, however, a nearby mine that burrows deep into the same mountain. “This is where you come in. I need you to speak with the Mine Foreman down there, help him see the virtue of our cause, and convince him to dig a tunnel into the Antechamber.” Trials: “...I feel like cutting through vines would be a lot easier than tunneling through solid rock.” Rythor: “You’d think that, but Cyrodiilic vines are so tough it takes a literal act of god to move them. “Now, go convince those minders to dig that tunnel for us.” Trials: “And what if they refuse?” Rythor: “Then convince your fist to make friends with their noses until they agree.” Trials: Flabbergasted. “...wow! Is that really necessary? I mean, they’re not Sova.” Rythor: “If it comes to it. Meanwhile, I’m going to lead an excavation effort at the Spire you’ve just cleared. “Godspeed, my Enforcer.”

[forged-through-trials]

The Zarov case was closed, but I couldn’t help picking at that wound just a little bit. Ruin and I hoofed it back to Fort Carmala for one last look. Sure enough, Lucy was gone. I guess the Baron came to collect her while he was rushing about, hiding and destroying evidence. At this point I’m surprised he didn’t leave some graffiti on Fort Carmala to mock me. Probably the words ‘Dear Forged-Through-Trials’ preceding a picture of a butt!

Well, nothing to do now, but to put that all behind me, and focus on my other cases. Still in the Skingrad area, the closet job still pending was the Spire Gig for the Archeology Guild. Well, now I was a little bit stronger, a little bit smarter, and a lot bit ready to dive in and do that job. We came upon the Spire, spying it from the distance. It loomed on he horizon, a structure as grand as the guild’s excitement would suggest. From there, we looked about the grounds, finding two Archie-Guild Assistants patrolling the grounds about the spire. I conversed with them a bit, but it was mostly just small talk. Did you know that Verus once scaled White-Gold Tower to write a paper about Alyeid towers? No word on how sober or drunk he was at the time. Or that Teav used to dive for precious gems? He’d always tell Tumyr, the Khajiit, that of all the gems he used to collect, “he likes the cats-eyes most of all.” Which... to me, sounds like Teav was clumsily trying to flirt with Tumyr. Oh yes, I ship that! And Norlene was, apparently, once a target of the Dark Brotherhood. Can’t imagine why; she’s the nicest member of the guild I’d met. Rythor, current Guild-Master, somehow talked the assassin into going after their client instead of Norlene. He must be a very smooth operator to pull that off. Huh. Can’t imagine I’d ever end up having any dealings with the Dark Brotherhood. Nope, I’d much rather keep a wide berth o’ them. The Assistants didn’t have much to tell me about the dig-site, so all I knew going in was what Teav and the others had said; the dig-site connected into a cave system, and they believed the caves could lead them into an otherwise inaccessible antechamber, but the caves crawled with animals and monsters. Our job; clear out those animals and monsters, and clear the way for the Guildies to investigate the site.

We entered the spire at last. The first antechamber was an eye-watering flash of florescent blues and grays. Glowing runes were scrawled all over pillars, and a dais in the antechamber held a large chest. It was empty; I presume the Archie-Guildies already looted it, so Ruin and I continued deeper into the ruins. As Teav had described, caves splintered off from the main antechamber, deeper underground. They were winding, and filled with animals and monsters, mostly ogres. It’s... strange how quickly ogres went from something that could break my nose, to something that wouldn’t even break a sweat. I guess part of that is having Ruin at my side. They seem to have real trouble dealing with two targets. It took a few hours of exploring, but eventually we found a way into the second antechamber, confirming Teav’s theory that it did indeed exist. I knew it right away, because it was a large, open space, speckled with florescent blue, much like the first antechamber. It was similarly dotted with the strange, blue light-columns, and another large chest on a dais. I checked the chest, and while the loot was surely valuable, it was nothing I hadn’t seen before. I assume the Guild would not mind if I pocketed these, because they were nothing unique. Surely nothing that suggested the unique civilization these spires belonged to.

In a niche to one corner of the dais, I found something more interesting; a large “Metallic Shard.” It glowed the same florescent blue as much of the decorations in this Spire, and to my Treasure-Hunting eye, it looked to me like something the Archie-Guild would be interested in. So I nicked it, and stuffed it into my pack. With that, the Spire was cleared of monsters, and I had something to present to Teav, so I declared the job ‘done’, and Ruin and I retreated. Once we’d found our way out, we legged it back to the Archaeology Guild’s castle, and presented our findings to Teav.

Teav: “You’re back. I was starting to think I’d not see you again.” Trials: “Yeah, we got into a bunch of other business. Hope you didn’t hire someone else while we were gone.” Teav: “Sova would have had my tail on a platter if I’d hired another adventurer. “So, were you able to clear the ruin?” Trials: “Indeedy! It should be safe for your people to move in, now.” “We also found this--” Ruin struggled to hoist the Metallic Shard out of my pack, his legs wobbling and cracking under the weight of it as he slammed it down upon Teav’s desk with a loud crash. Teav: “...by the gods, a giant rock!” Trials: “...” I frowned, and crossed my arms. “Yeah, we were hoping you could tell us more about it than that.” Teav: “I just can’t believe what I’m seeing. It’s a giant rock! It’s a rock, and it’s giant! A giant rock!” Trials: “...I can’t tell if you’re patronizing me, or if you’re about to reveal the secret origins of the Cyrodiil Collectable Card Game.” Teav: “...do you have ‘Ocato’?” Trials: I blinked shyly. “...noooooo!” Teav: “Well, as for more about the stone you procured; it seems to be encrusted in meteorite. You can tell quite easily due to the density, the fusion-crust, and the high concentrations of iron. The inner matrix, however, has got me very intrigued. Can you see it here?” He pointed at the glowing spot on the Metallic Shard. Trials: “...by the gods, a glowing rock!” Teav: He fumed. “Okay, now you’re patronizing me!” Trials: I grinned at him, sheepishly. “Sorry, couldn’t resist. “Okay, what can you tell us about Enter the Matrix?” Teav: “Boring and pretentious as all hell! “But as for the Inner Matrix; not much, at the moment. It’s encrusted with grime and fusion-crust. If we could clean it off, we’d get a better look. “My friend and colleague, Tumyr, makes a dissolving agent that he uses in his own work with fossils. It will also de-grease a carriage axle in one minute, and goes great on fries, assuming your stomach doesn’t disintegrate upon ingesting it.” Trials: “Eh, I’ve eaten worse.” Ruin: “She has. I’ve seen her survive chugging enough Skooma to make the Nerevarine blush.” Teav: “...” He took a step back, his face pale. “Regardless, I would like you to see Tumyr, and return with some of his Dissolving Agent. It should eat away at the outer matrix and give us access to the treasures within.” Trials: “Rodger!” I offered a friendly salute. “Oh, and if you ever need a wingman talking to him, let me know. I’d be happy to help!” Teav: His face turned red. “...please don’t. I don’t want it to get weird.” Ruin: “She’s involved now. It’s already weird.”

Teav rewarded me with a key to one of the display cases in the Castle Hall. Display Case C, to be precise. I decided to check out the item in question, and found it to be a large Dwemer Cog. Huh. I appreciate the sentiment, and it looks valuable, but I’m pretty sure dealing in Dwemer Artifacts is banned by Imperial Law, so I wouldn’t have anyone to sell it to. Not anyone reputable, and somehow it feels wrong to nick such an artifact just to pawn it for gold, especially to some shady dealer. For now, I left it in the Guild Hall.

[forged-through-trials]

The Imperial City was pretty quiet after that. With the guard-corruption squashed, and the grave-robbing halted, the city settled into something approaching peaceful. Which left nothing for me to really do besides hang out in my room at the Merchant’s Inn, and just drink the days away. Ruin insisted we get out from time to time. Yes, we did end up trying out the Tiber Septim Hotel for a dinner together. Ow, my poor coin-purse. Food was pretty tight, though.

Finally a whole week had passed. Seven days of me nearly going stir-crazy in my room, like I was on lock-down with the Peryite Flu. It was at last time to head back to the Arcane University to check on Boderi Farano and her progress. Boderi: “Some--” She teleported into the room, and stepped off the pad. “--BODY once asked “Me to translate books real fast “They had to get more evidence for their case “I said ‘yep, gimmie a week’ “’I’ll have all the answers that you seek’ “Now you can get back to the chase!” Trials: “...” Deadpan. “If you don’t stop singing, I will punch you.” Boderi: She frowned and reeled back a pace. “By Azura, you’re a grumpy one.” Ruin: “I assume you’ve made progress with the books we gave you?” Boderi: “Well, good news and bad news on that front. The bad news is that we can’t give them back to you. They contain forbidden knowledge comparable to necromancy and as such, we can’t let them out of the Arcane University. “The good news, however, is that we’ve copied an excerpt of the journal with all the important entries related to your case.” Ruin: “Was there anything in the other books related to our case?” Boderi: “Indeed there was. The Spell and Alchemy book contained various shamanic spells, most we’d already seen ogres use, but there were a few surprises to be had. “The other one was a gross cookbook, with recipes involving human meat and goblin brains.” Trials: “Eww.” Boderi: “All these books form the proof that the person you know as ‘Lord Baldor Varian’ is, in fact, an ogre who consumed the real Lord Varian’s flesh to take his form, and his brain to absorb his memories.” Trials: “Ugh, startin’ to wish I’d skipped breakfast, today.” Boderi: “Along with the journal entries, I’ve included an official letter bearing the seals of the Mages Guild and Arcane University to the authorities of Skingrad. It should be sufficient to have the guards arrest Lord Varian.” Trials: “Nice! Here’s hopin’ we don’t need two witnesses to the sun shining out of a dog’s arse to get the Skingrad City Guard to get their butts in gear.” Ruin: “You’re really not going to let that go, are you?” Trials: “It’s just so infuriatingly dumb!”

I took a look at the notes Boderi provided. They were exactly what Boderi described; excerpts from an ogre’s journal, and an official-sounding letter for the Skingrad City Watch. The journal described the slow progression of the ogre mage. How he’d discovered the recipe to steal memories from cooking and eating the brains of his victims, and similarly learned the recipe for stealing the form of a victim from consuming their flesh. A gross, grim tome, as the ogre mage progressed from experimenting on rats and imps, to goblins, and finally to people. It was when the mage started hitting people that he vastly increased his knowledge and ingenuity. After a few victims, he was able to perfect the recipes through experimentation, growing his intellect and increasing the duration of the effects. Eventually, he schemed to enter the “human city,” presumably Skingrad, to have a steady supply of human flesh. By luck, he happened to capture the real Baldor Varian, and proceeded to kill, cook, and eat him, obtaining his form and memories. He then proceeded to take Baldor’s place as a nobleman of Skingrad, and one by one, consume Baldor’s servants. Eventually, he had to travel to another province to finalized his arranged marriage with Lucy, and take her back to Skingrad. That’s where the abuse began, just as Lucy described, and it seemed that the ogre’s need to keep up appearances was the only thing that saved Lucy from being eaten. Shortly after getting her back to Skingrad, Lucy fell ill. This is likely where Baron von Zarov got involved. The fake Baldor called Doctor Helsong, again, trying to keep up appearances, but Lucy ‘died’ of her illness shortly there after. The fake Baldor then left the cave to his brother--I guess that was the ogre Ruin and I found in Grayrock Cave--and that was the end of the journal. With these in hand, it was time to return to Skingrad. While this isn’t quite bringing Baron von Zarov to justice, this is the next best thing. The Ogre-Varian needed to be stopped before he killed again.

It took a few hours, but we hiked it quickly from the Arcane University directly to Skingrad. Once there, I found the nearest guard, and presented them with the Arcane University’s writ. Trials: “I have proof that Lord Varian--” Private Janora: “Stop right there, criminal scum! I mean, citizen! If it concerns the nobility, this is way above my pay-grade. Captain Dion is the one you want to see about this.” Trials: “Why can’t you just take the writ to him? Do I look like a courier to you?” Private Janora: “Yes! I’ve seen you delivering packages around town.” Trials: Deadpan. “...well, very astute of you.” So our next stop was to seek out Captain Dion. We found him near the chapel. Trials: “Ho, Captain. Remember me?” Captain Dion: “Yes, I do; you riled up the town-eccentric into a murderous frenzy until I had to put him down.” Trials: I tugged at my collar awkwardly. “Ooph, yeah, those were crazy times... two months ago... “Anyway, today I come to you with proof that Lord Baldor Varian is an impostor!” I passed him the writ from the Arcane University, and he took a few moments to read it. Captain Dion: “These are serious charges. Your evidence is in order, but concerning a noble of Skingrad, I cannot act without approval of the Count. I’ll need you to go to the castle and seek his confirmation right away.” Trials: I rolled my eyes. “Oh for Hist’s Sake, am I just going to get bounced around all day? Next, I’ll go to see the Count and he’ll be like; ‘Oh, sorry, I can’t help you. Go run your tail back to the Imperial City and get word from the Emperor.’ “And then I do it, and the Emperor will say: ‘Sorry, can’t help you. Instead, I’m going to refer you to Talos.’ “And then I meet Tiber-gods-damned-Septim, and even he tells me; ‘I’ll help, but first, you gotta get permission from my friend, Todd’.” Captain Dion: “...who the hell is ‘Todd’?” Well, there was nothing else for it. Ruin and I schlepped it over to Skingrad Castle, and spoke with the steward, Mercator Hosidus. Hey, I wonder if he knows Mercator Saccus from A Fighting Chance in the Imperial City? Mercator Hosidus: “The Count will not see you now. Not now, not ever. He sees no one. I’m Mercator Hosidus, his steward. I believe that’s all you need to know.” Trials: “...” I rolled my eyes. “Tell him a ‘No Soliciting’ sign would be both cheaper, and just as effective. “Anyway, we have evidence that Lord Baldor Varian is an impostor. So tell the Count to get his shoes on and get down here to see it.” Mercator Hosidus: “These are serious charges. May I see your evidence?” Trials: I presented him with the Arcane University’s writ. “Right here! Signed and sealed by the Council of Mages.” Mercator Hosidus: He examined the writ, and gave a solemn nod. “Ah, excellent work. Accusing a Lord of Skingrad without any backup evidence would have led you nowhere. Thanks for taking the precautions of making this all official. The Count will be pleased that you handled this like you did.” Trials: Deadpan. “...gee, thanks. How fortunate for me that I did ninety-percent of the work for you.” Mercator Hosidus: “Stow the sass, lizard. I’ll talk to the Count as soon as possible, and I expect there’ll be an arrest tomorrow morning. You’re welcome to watch it but you mustn’t intervene. This is a matter for the guards.” Trials: I shrugged and rolled my eyes. “Are you sure? Wouldn’t you rather I finish up that last ten percent for you?” Mercator Hosidus: He grit his teeth and sneered. “Look, I don’t need your cheek. I’m already busy ghost-writing the Count’s book where he teaches children to count bats. I’ve got to figure out a way to transliterate his ‘Ah. Ah. Ah. Ah.’ laugh by this afternoon!” Trials: “He’s writing a children’s book? Aww, that’s sweet of him. Does he need anyone to write the forward for it?” Mercator Hosidus: “Nah, it’s already presented by the letter ‘þ’.” Trials: Confused. “...the hell is that?? The bastard-child of a ‘b’ and ‘p’? Mercator Hosidus: “I think it looks like a pregnant ‘I’.”

Oh goodie, more waiting! Well, we had a few hours to kill before Hosidus had everything in order and we could arrest Varian, so I hit the shops. It was in “Hammer And Tongs” that I spoke with Agnete The Pickled. Agnete: “I’m PICKLED AGNETE!” Trials: “...” I burst into laughter, huffing and wheezing. “...by the gods, funny stuff!” Ruin: “...I don’t get it.” Trials: “But Ruin, she’s Agnete the Pickled! It’s the funniest name I’ve ever heard!” Ruin: “I still don’t get it.” Agnete: “Welcome to Hammer and Tongs. What can I do ya for?” Trials: “Browsing, mostly. Oh, also, before I forget, I’m representing a ‘Thalonias, late of Balmora,’ currently residing in Weye. He’s looking for someone to supply his shop, and I’d like to ask if you’d be willing to cut a deal?” Agnete: “This sounds like a very good deal -- I could expand all over Cyrodiil like this! I’d just need a little capital to cover the first shipment. Say, two-hundred and fifty Septims.” Trials: “Ow, that’s like a whole dinner at the Tiber Septim Hotel!” I groaned and slumped. “Fiiiiine! But only because you made me laugh with that ‘Pickled Agnete’ bit. I sure hope Thalonias appreciates the sacrifices I’m making for him.”

With that done, Ruin and I retired to the Fighters Guild to rest up for the following morning. We rose with the sun, and eagerly raced down the street to Baldor’s estate, spying a battle-mage accompanying two members of the Skingrad City Watch. The battle-mage approached Ruin and I, and spoke to us. Albeci Calleius: “So, you’re the one who gathered the evidence, is this right? Well, this is a job for the local city guards now, so you stay out of the way, alright?” Trials: “Sure I can’t just pop in and finish what I’d started? I’ve been on this case for a month.” Albeci Calleius: “Commendable, but I can’t allow that. Only city guards and legion soldiers are authorized to make arrests.” He directed his men to move in, and the two guards slipped into the manor. I could hear shouting from within the building, then crashing, as the obvious noises of struggle could be heard coming from within the manor. A guard exited after a moment, and spoke up to the battle-mage in command. Skingrad Guard: “Sir, he’s changed into an ogre, and he’s using magic! I don’t think we can handle this on our own.” Albeci Calleius: He gave a firm nod to his subordinate, then turned to Ruin and I. “It seems we have the final piece of evidence to back up your accusations. My men need assistance. I’d better go in so my magic can support them. Unless...” Trials: “...” I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Oh, here we go.” Albeci Calleius: “Do you still want to help?” Trials: I shrugged. “Last ten percent it is, then!” Albeci Calleius: “Alright, in you go! I had wanted to take this imposter alive, but it seems that is no longer an option.” Ruin: “We’ll try to leave him as intact as possible.” Trials: “Oooh, someone is confident today!”

We rushed into the manor, and spied “Baldor” on the second floor. He came rushing down the stairs at us, but I came prepared. I’d been carrying Poisons of Silence to deal with Vampire Mages, and thought this an opportune time to pour one out over Light of Dawn. That took care of his spell-casting, and from there, the ogre only had his fists to rely on against us. The last time I fought an ogre head on, I was pummeled to a pulp and barely survived, and all I had to show for that instance was a few broken ribs and a basket of bread! This time, I was stronger, faster, and smarter than before. I dodged those huge, meaty fists like a pro, and moved in, even as the Ogre leaped up, looking to axe-handle slam me from above. I pointed Light of Dawn up, and the ogre came down onto the blade, his own weight forcing the blade through his tough hide, impaling him on the sword. The ogre roared, flailing those huge limbs, as I quickly drew Light of Dawn out of his gut, and with a quick slash, took out his throat, finally putting an end to the false Balor once and for all. Once we’d dealt with the ogre, Ruin and I exited, and met with Albeci Calleius once more. Albeci Calleius: “I take it you were victorious, then? A pity we couldn’t arrest the ogre mage, but you did what you had to do.” Ruin: “Congratulations, Trials. You can finally close the book on this case.” Trials: I paused, contemplatively. “Well... almost... not quite...” Albeci Calleius: “Well, my part is done, here. The castle steward may offer you a reward for your part. You should come up there and see them when you’re able to.”

We retreated back over to Castle Skingrad, but the whole walk there, I had this nagging feeling in the back of my mind. Sure, we’d stop the Fake Baldor, but Baron von Zarov was still at large. Once we arrived back at Castle Skingrad, we were met by Steward Hosidus. Mercator Hosidus: “Word of your deeds have proceeded you. Congratulations! It is my great honor to give you this reward for all your efforts in this dramatic case.” He passed me a large purse of gold coins. “It is especially the way you handled the situation that you are to be commended for. You went to great lengths to gather evidence to prove the case, and stopped a monster from preying upon the people of Skingrad. For that, you have the gratitude of the whole city.” Trials: I sighed, unable to appreciate the gratitude. “Well, thank you, but... but this case isn’t quite ‘closed’ yet. There’s another wrinkle to iron out.” Mercator Hosidus: “Oh? And what ‘wrinkle’ is that?” Trials: “It’s about Baron von Zarov. I have reason to believe that is a vampire.” Mercator Hosidus: He gave pause for a moment, then broke into laughter. “Ah hah hah! That’s funny! Lord Varian is an ogre, and Baron von Zarov is a vampire? I guess the other lords are werewolves and the ladies are liches! Ah hah hah hah hah!” Trials: I grit my teeth, wilting under his mocking laughter. “But it’s true! I’ve been working this case for a month, ever since the body of Lucy Varian disappeared! He’s a vampire!” Mercator Hosidus: “This isn’t funny anymore, kiddo. I know you’ve done a service to the city, but I can’t just act on your word alone. Especially not after we were duped by the last ‘Vampire Hunter’ to come waltzing into town. You’ll need proof.” Trials: I flailed my arms in frustration. “Then let me get the proof you need. You know I can do it. I just need the key to Zarov’s manor.” Mercator Hosidus: “Fine.” He took a moment to search through his keychain, before producing the key to Zarov’s manor. “Here’s the key. You’re free to enter the Baron’s house for the time being. You mustn’t steal anything, but only take the poof of his culpability. And report to me directly.” Trials: I offered him a salute. “Righto. I’ll be back in two shakes of my tail!” We rushed back into town. You know, Gentle Reader, it is such a shame that the Fake Baldor took the evidence I’d found the last time I broke into lawfully entered the Baron’s manor. Who knows what the ogre likely did with them? But there’s bound to be more evidence to be found at Zarov’s manor. Ruin and I entered, and began the search. I immediately rushed to the second floor, where I tugged upon the candelabra... only to find it wouldn’t budge. I tried again, and again, but the damn thing was stuck fast. Trials: “Th-the secret door won’t open!” Ruin: “It seems it is no longer possible to prove there was a secret entrance from the Baron’s house into the sewers.” Trials: “Nnngh!” I fumed, but calmed myself and wiped the sweat from my brow. “It’s okay. We can still salvage this situation. We just need to get into the city sewers.” Ruin: “What about that skull on the shelf? Is that not evidence?” Trials: “Nah, that’s only proof that he shares a crap-sense of interior decoration with most of Cyrodiil.” Ruin: “If grave-robbing carries the death-penalty, why is it legal to just display a skull on one’s bookshelf?” Trials: “Because Cyrodiil is a clown-province full of lazy guards and nonsense-laws.”

We rushed back through town, heading to the south tip, where an old abandoned house lie. A month ago, when I scrambled, screaming and damp with sweat--and other fluids--from the city sewers, I popped up in this run down hovel, so I knew there was an entrance back into the sewers from here. We just needed to get in, and get down there. We were down there once more, and the stench of those sewers was a familiar, if unwelcome, hit. The odor was enough to sting the eyes and nose, and I groaned as I struggled through the sewers, pacing ever forward. Eventually, I led Ruin through the sewers. With a combination of memory, and the knowledge that the Baron’s home was vaguely north of the abandoned house, I found the tunnel that led under the Baron’s manor, and we strode forward. I crossed the bridge over the pit, and found the wrack that once contained the Baron’s bottles of spare blood. ...and was currently empty. Dammit! I turned back toward the pit, and climbed down into it... only to find it, too was empty. Unlike the vampires of Fort Carmala, the Baron didn’t believe in leaving rotting corpses lying around as decoration. Trials: “Dammit! The evidence is gone!” Ruin: “Zarov was one step ahead of us.” Trials: I grit my teeth, and shook. “It’s... it’s okay! We can still salvage this!” Ruin: “...how?” Trials: “I... Miaren Girendas! Over at Magh-Gra’s Tack and Supplies. She could at least confirm that the Baron left here with Lucy Varian.”

We rushed out of the sewers, and darted as quickly as we could over toward Magh-Gra’s, whereupon we found the Dark Elf in the corner of the shop, tending to her duties. Miaren: “Good day to you. Can I help with something?” She sniffed the air around us, and then covered her nose. “Ugh, perhaps by pointing you to the nearest bath?” Trials: “Yeah, sorry, we just got out of the sewers. Anyway, we need to talk about Baron von Zarov.” Miaren: “...what? What is it you’re saying?” Trials: “...” I grew increasingly irate. “Baron. Von. Zarov!” Miaren: “Never heard that name before. Who is he? Your master? Does he have an order in our shop?” Trials: “...” The hope audibly drained out of my voice. “You... really don’t remember, do you?” Miaren: “Sorry, remember what?” Trials: Defeated. “You don’t remember at all.” Miaren: “Let me check for his name in our ledgers. I’m sure that if we have an impending order it will be in the books.” Trials: Defeated. “It won’t.” Miaren: “Oh really?” Trials: Defeated. “Do you... not remember me, at all?” Miaren: “Not at all. Should I? When did we meet?” Trials: Defeated. “...never mind.” Ruin and I stepped out of the shop, and I hung my head, dejected. Ruin: “All of the evidence has vanished. The Baron must’ve known you were onto him and cleared everything. Even Miaren very memories!” Trials: I slammed a fist into the near wall. “It’s... we can still salvage this! I just need to find a way to time-travel back to two-months ago and--” Ruin: “My friend, let it go. The Baron outwitted us, this time.” Trials: Defeated. “Ugh... you’re right.” We carried back over to Skingrad Castle to report in. Hosidus was about as helpful as you might imagine; with no proof, he could not take action against Zarov, so we were effectively stonewalled. The Baron won this one, it seems. Well, at least I nicked his rare wine bottles!

[forged-through-trials]

Everything was in place to take down Audens Avidius. All that was left was to wait out until the morning, while keeping a look out to make sure nothing happened to Lorunk and Ruslan. That out of the way, it was time to rest and wait until morning.

On the trip back to the Market District, we passed through the Arboretum, and who should we run into on the way, but Thoronir; our mark for the scheming price-gougers Society of Concerned Merchants’ job. Well, I’m not exactly happy with Jensine right now, given the stunt she pulled, but hey, I figure it’s still worth looking into his operation. Trials: “Ho, you’re ‘Thoronir’, right? I hear you’re cleaning up right now. Might I ask about your inventory?” Thoronir: “What about my inventory?” Trials: “Where’s it come from?” Thoronir: “Well, that would be a trade secret. I can’t divulge how I pass the great savings on to you, now can I? “Just like a baker not revealing his best recipes, or a clothier guarding his best designs, or a butcher not revealing where he gets his meat from--” Trials: “I’m not sure about that last one. I feel like I’d be more comfortable knowing where my meat comes from.” Thoronir: “Suffice to say, my sources are quite reliable and low cost. That way, you walk out with a full coinpurse.” Trials: “...you’re a really happy businessman.” Thoronir: “Why shouldn’t I be happy? I’m making a killing. And it’s the kind of ‘killing’ where I don’t have to eat anyone.” Trials: “...wat?” Thoronir: “IDidn’tSayNuffin’.” Thoronir rushed off after that, vanishing into the dark of the night. But I gave chase, sneaking after him. He made for the Market District, and I followed him through, tailing him carefully.

It was close to midnight as Thoronir approached a garden somewhere behind Rindir’s Staffs and Edgar’s Discount Spells, and I followed after, hiding against a corner, as a blond Nord approached, and spoke with him. I leaned in as close as I could, and listened in. Thoronir: “That you, Agarmir?” Agarmir: “Shhhh! Not so loud. How many times have I told you that?” Thoronir: “Sorry, I am not used to this kind of meeting. It always makes me nervous.” Agarmir: “Well, just shut up and listen to me. The next shipment will be sooner than I expected. Just have the money ready.” Thoronir: “Same assortment of things? I mean, I have enough clothing for now.” Agarmir: “You take what I get! I get notice at the last second, and I have to jump on it. No time to be picky about it.” Thoronir: “Well, that Society is putting more pressure on me. So maybe we better cut back for now.” Agarmir: “You cut back now, and I’m going to take my business elsewhere. Or maybe pay a visit to that Jensine and tell her about your little scheme.” Thoronir: “Fine, you made your point. Contact me when you have the items, and we’ll meet again.” Agarmir: “Don’t worry, it will be very soon. Now get outta here.” Jeez, that was about the rudest transaction I’ve ever heard that didn’t involve me. We have some literal back-alley deals going on. Something shady is definitely going on here, or else why would Thoronir need to meet his contact in the middle oft he night? Agarmir was our next lead. As the source of Thoronir’s ultra-cheap wares, he’s the one to tail to discover what the nature of this shady business is. We gave chase after him, and followed him over toward the Talos Plaza District. There, he entered a house, presumably, his. Now, breaking into a place while the owner was there is a pretty dangerous move, so I gave him an hour to, hopefully, go to bed... only to find that he’d barred the door. Who the hell barricades their door when they’re at home? Is he expecting a zombie horde or something? So that was a bust. As long as Agarmir was home, there was no getting into his house. Out of options for the moment, Ruin and I retreated back to the Market District, renting our familiar room at the Merchant’s Inn and turning in for the night. The morning came, and it was time to check on Lorunk and Ruslan. Ruin and I rushed on over to the Temple District, and met up with the pair once they’d exited their houses. I explained my intentions to escort them, and followed to duo over into the Elven Gardens District, where they sought out Captain Hayn.

Ruslan: “We’d like to report a crime. Watch Captain Avidius stole all of our money while we were shopping in Jensine’s Merchandise.” Lorunk: “That’s right!” Itius Hayn: “I see. These are very serious charges. I’ll need you both to provide two witnesses to the crime.” Ruslan: “...but we are the witnesses.” Itius Hayn: “You can’t expect me to just take your word for it. If I did, something might actually get done in this city!” Trials: I leaped out from a corner and screamed. “Just do your job, jackass!” Itius Hayn: “Ugh, great. Internal Affairs will be on me like kitty-litter on a Khajiit. I’ll be filing paperwork for a week after this, but, fine!” Our two witnesses rushed home after that, but I tailed Hayn for the moment. I really wanted to see the moment when Avidius got what was coming to him.

Back in the Market District, that is exactly what went down. Itius Hayn: “Audens Avidius, you are under arrest for extortion and petty theft. Surrender peacefully and keep what little dignity you have left.” Avidius: “I’m surprised, Ititus. I didn’t think even you would stoop to arresting a fellow Captain.” Itius Hayn: “Only those who break the law.” Avidius: “Damn, and I would’ve gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for those meddling lizards!” Trials: “Have fun in the dungeons, jerk-face!” Avidius: Increasingly unhinged. “Someday, I’ll get out, and when I do, you’ll pay! You’ll both pay!” Trials: I crossed my arms and smirked knowingly. “Take him away, boys.” Itius Hayn: “Hey! I give the orders here!” He turned to two generic guards. “Bake him away, toys.” Generic Guards: “...huh, what?” Itius Hayn: He flushed awkwardly. “...just do what the lizard says.”

It was late afternoon by then, so, feeling good about a day’s work well done, Ruin and I swaggered back on toward the Talos Plaza District, where we tried Agarmir’s door again. Success! This time it was unbarred. We gave a quick look around to make sure the coast was clear, and then broke in. Ruin: “Where did you learn to pick locks and break-and-enter this way?” Trials: “Ruin, Ruin, buddy, we’re not ‘breaking-and-entering’. We’re... investigating.” Ruin: “Without a warrant or probable cause?” Trials: I rolled my eyes at him. “Well, you can feel free to hang out here and find me two witnesses. I’ll just be in here, doing my job.” Ruin: “You know what? You’re right, that system is stupidly obtuse.” In, we went, and I zeroed in on the basement right away. I figured, it was more likely he was keeping shady stuff down there, than it was likely he was keeping stuff in his bedroom. Down in the basement, the place looked a sight; blood stains, clothes strewn about, and piles and piles of a mysterious powder, as well as muddied shoes and shovels all over the place. On a corner table lined with candles, I found a book labeled as “Macabre Manifest.” ...really strange name for a book. Points for the alliteration, but that’s pretty on-the-nose considering that I presume Agarmir is looking to hide his dirty-dealings.

The contents of the book confirmed what the title implied. Again, not sure why Agarmir wanted to advertise this. Was he worried he might forget what his business was all about? And indeed, the contents of the book revealed the ghoulish details of Agarmir’s business. If the big header at the beginning of the book that read “Recently Deceased” was anything to go by, it seemed the stock he was selling to Thoronir was obtain via grave-robbing! Huh, if he’s stealing from the dead, maybe he is worried about zombie hordes coming to exact their revenge after all. Ruin: He snorted, gritting his teeth. “Grave-robbing? How repulsive!” Trials: “...Ruin, we nick stuff off of dead people all the time.” Ruin: “There’s a vast difference between slaying a bandit in combat, looting the spoils, and robbing from the honored-dead.” Trials: “Really? Because the only difference I see is that robbing the ‘honored-dead’ means you’re messing with people who had money and/or connections.” Ruin: “I think it’s a bit more complicated than just that.” Trials: “I don’t think it is.” Ruin: “Well... we’ve been hired to prove Thoronir’s stock was ill-gotten, and even if this system doesn’t make a lot of sense, by their clown-shoes logic, Thoronir’s stock is indeed ill-gotten. We have what we need to get paid.” Trials: “...hmm, true enough, BUT, I don’t feel good about selling Thoronir up the river like that.” Ruin: “Why?” Trials: “Because Jensine’s a bint and I don’t like her face. “Besides, I have a hunch that Thoronir doesn’t know what’s going on. Let’s confront him and see how he reacts to this evidence.”

We jogged back over toward the Market District, burst into the Copious Coinpurse, and slammed the book down on Thoronir’s desk. Trials: “Hey, chief. We pinched this from Agarmir. It’s proof that the stock he’s been selling you is obtained via grave-robbing.” Thoronir: “Oh! A little ghoulish... but I do buy things from adventurers who take things from fallen enemies all the time!” Trials: I shrugged and rolled my eyes. “That’s what I said!” Ruin: He sighed and shook his head. “Sir, whether or not it makes sense, it is the law here in Cyrodiil, and is a capital offense here.” Trials: “...Ruin, why does grave-robbing carry the death-penalty, but necrophilia is only a five-hundred gold fine? I feel like that’s backwards!” Ruin: “...” He paled visibly. “How do you know that?” Trials: “I know a very strange Dark Elf over in Skingrad.” Ruin: “...” He sighed and groaned. “This place is weird.” Thoronir: He paled a little. “Well, if it’s so disreputable that I could get into serious hot-water for it, then you’ll have to put a stop to it at once. I’ll fully cooperate with your investigation, of course, provided you put in a good word for me.” Trials: I gave a friendly salute. “Absolutely. Now, can you tell us what Agarmir might be doing right now?” Thoronir: “He mentioned having ‘something important to do’ today. You don’t think he would dig up another... oh no, he wouldn’t. But I guess he has been! Oh my, what have I gotten myself into??” Trials: “Calm down. We’ll get him. We just need to know where to look.” Thoronir: “Well, assuming he’s still in the city, you’ll want to try Green Emperor Way. It’s the largest graveyard inside the city walls and the likeliest place for him to... uh... ‘do business’.” Trials: “...grave-robbing right under the Emperor’s nose? By the Nine, that sounds really dumb! How has it taken this long for anyone to figure out what he does??” Thoronir: “His beard emits pheromones. It’s the only logical answer.”

Ruin and I raced over to Green Emperor Way, and as we ran the circuit, looking for signs of Agarmir, we noticed the door to the “Trentius Family Mausoleum” was left ajar. Well, if Agarmir was going to roll out the red carpet for me, I was going to take it. We rushed in, and immediately found the Nord himself, and an armored accomplice, within. Agarmir: “I had a feeling you’d catch on sooner or later.” Trials: “We’ve literally never spoken before.” Ruin: “Maybe he also prepared this speech in advance?” Agarmir: “Oh, shut up, both of you! The door locked behind you as you entered, and I’m going to murder you both and chuck you into this unmarked grave.” Trials: “But, it is marked. It says ‘Trentius Family’ on it.” Ruin: “Do you think that, after he buries us alive, he’s going to dig us up and rob our things?” Trials: “See, if he were smart, he’d kill us first, then take our stuff, so that way it’s actually legal.” Agarmir: Increasingly Irate. “Are you two even paying attention?? I’m threatening to murder you!” Trials: “...since we’re in a mausoleum, is it still legal to loot him and his friend when we defeat them? Or would that be grave-robbing?” Ruin: “I do not know. Cyrodiil’s legal code makes no sense to me.” Trials: “Well, as long as there aren’t two witnesses, I think we’ll get off with a warning.” Agarmir: Grinding his teeth. “Stop ignoring me!” Trials: “Wanna go eat at the Feedbag after we’re done here?” Ruin: “You always choose the cheapest places. Why can’t we eat at the Tiber Septim Hotel?” Trials: I offered Ruin the Stink-Eye. “Well, well, lookit Mister Moneybags over here! Do I look like I’m made of Septims?” Ruin: “All I’m saying is; we’re going to be paid for this job, and we’ll only be in the city for a few more days. Let’s try somewhere new.” Agarmir: Deadpan. “You both are horse’s asses.” Trials: “Okay, okay, we’ll compromise and hit up Luther Broad’s Boarding House, deal?” Ruin: “Deal.” The fight was on... and over rather quickly. Turns out, when you show up to a sword-fight wearing your working clothes, you tend not to last very long. His backup lasted a little longer, but with two-on-one odds, we took him down quickly, too. Then, legal or not, I pinched their stuff, and left them for the guards to find and clean up. On the way out, I picked up the soil-stained shovel Agarmir had been using to dig up the Trentius Family plot. Given the... strained legality of all of this, the more evidence I had to prove Agarmir’s guilt, the better. We reported in to Thoronir once we were done, and presented him with Agarmir’ shovel as proof of his defeat. Thoronir: “Then we can at last rest. I feared had he somehow bested you, I’d be next. It’s fortunate that your skills exceeded his. “I’ve come to some decisions. I intend to donate all of the money I have made, as well as what is left of the stolen items, to the temple.” Trials: “That might square you with Arkay, but otherwise, you’re just lucky the guards in this town are super-duper lazy.” Thoronir: “I also want you to know that I had a long discussion with Jensine, and I have decided to join the Society.” Trials: “Bottom text.” Thoronir: “...” He rolled his eyes. “No, I mean, Jensine’s Society for Concerned Merchants.” Trials: I frowned and scowled at him. “Oh, so you’re selling out, huh?” Thoronir: “That’s capitalism, baby. The biggest sellout always wins! “But I realize you risked your life to give me a chance, and Thoronir never forgets things like that. Please, accept this ring... and store credit.” Trials: “...friggin’ smart-alleck.”

Hoping to get some kind of real payment out of this, we made for Jensine’s to offer my final report. Trials: “And that’s the whole story.” Jensine: “Oh yes, Thoronir spoke with me while you were out. He explained his intentions to donate to the local temple, and to join our Society, and fix prices with us buy and sell at a ‘fair’ price. “In return, the Society has decided not to press charges. His name will be absconded from the records of this crime.” Trials: “...” I set my hands on my hips. “Lady, you wouldn’t press charges against Audens Avidius, but you considered pressing them against Thoronir?” Jensine: “That was different. The first one was out of spite! While the second one--” Trials: “--Would have also been out of spite.” Jensine: “...” She scowled. “Just, shut up and take your gold!”

[forged-through-trials]

While waiting on Boderi Farano, we now had to wait on Roland Jenseric to get back to town. Waiting while we waited, so we can wait while we wait. With nothing but time to past, I thought I might just hit the bottle... but Ruin had other plans.

[Soundtrack: “On Top of The World.”] He dressed down, yet still wore his hood. I guess he was self-continuous about his head-spines. But he offered me his hand, and I hesitated a moment, before taking it. He spun me around into his embrace, and we to began to dance. I’m a clumsy sort, for sure, but Ruin led, and he led beautifully. I don’t know where he could have learned to dance like that, but it left me feeling so light. I worried that I stepped all over his feet while we danced, but he didn’t seem to mind. Even if there was no music, we danced and danced, and I was held closely in Ruin’s arms. A man had never held me like that before, and my face burned hot, and I laughed and giggled in spite of myself. I don’t think I’d ever had so much fun before. My life in Morrowind was all humiliation and shoveling guar-poop. My life in Cyrodiil, up to this point, had been a fight for survival. Taking dangerous jobs where I’d risk my hide for my coin, most of which ended up going toward training so I could turn around and risk my hide again. I hadn’t even realized it, but I’d never taken the time to just have fun before this. I thought drinking myself to sleep was ‘fun’, but... no. No, this is what ‘fun’ really is. What it’s supposed to be; doing something enjoyable, and sharing that experience with someone I like. And what better time to celebrate? I’d just overcome one of my greatest foes, conquered my fears, and solved one of the cases that had been burning a hole into my ledger. And a large part of that credit belongs to Ruin, always there to drag me out of a bad situation, to watch my back, and to offer me his confidence. Even now, when I was prepared to just drink myself into a nap to recover, just so I could rush off to the next case without another thought, he was there to remind me that it was okay to relax, cut loose, and have some fun! We wiled away a few hours like that, and I can only imagine what poor Velus Hosidius must have thought we were doing in one of his rooms. I hope he realizes that we were just dancing, and not... doing something else.

I figured we’d given Roland enough time to leg it back from his cabin, so Ruin and I skipped on over to Seridur’s old pad to see what he and the Order had gotten up to. We found him in the basement, along with Grey-Throat, and Roland was eager to speak to us. Roland: “It’s so good to see you again. I’ve spent a good deal of time speaking with Gilen and Grey-Throat. They agreed that the Order should live on. “Not only that, but we’d voted, four to one, to induct you as an honorary member.” Trials: “...four to one? But there’s only three of you!” Roland: “My socks were also inducted into the Order, and the right one voted against you, but we overruled him.” Trials: I narrowed my eyes. “Tell that sock it’s made a powerful enemy, this day.” Roland: “As a member and, let’s face it, our only real field agent, we’d be willing to pay you a bounty for any vampires you slay. We’re all too fat and old to do what you do, but we do have money.” Trials: “Oh, cool. Hear that, Light of Dawn? We can actually get paid to slay vampires!” [Light of Dawn liked that.]

Feeling good after joining a new club and making some new friends, I went poking around the Temple District, and slipped into the The All-Saints Inn. Still hadn’t had my celebratory drinks, yet, after all. It was in there that I noticed this orc; “Luronk gro-Glurzog.” He was in a corner, asking for handouts. Seemed strange, as he was well-dressed for a beggar, so I chatted him up to ask what was going on. Luronk: “Hey, stranger, can you spare a few coins? I’ve just been shaken down by that bastard watchman, and he took my last septim.” Trials: “That sucks. What’d you do?” Luronk: “Nuffin’! Literally, nuffin’. I was just out shopping with my friend, Ruslan, over at Jensine’s, when he accused us of stealing. We turned out our pockets to prove we were innocent, but he didn’t care. We had to pay the ‘fine’ or he was going to march us off to jail.” Trials: “So why didn’t Jensine back you up?” Luronk: “He’s been shaking down most of the shopkeepers for ‘protection money’ for a while now. They’re all too afraid of him to do anything.” Trials: “Well, any excuse to stick it to a corrupt guard is a worthwhile endeavor to me. I’ll look into things and see what I can do.” I know I ought to just be taking it easy, but I just can’t help myself. I like to keep busy. Besides, if I weren’t working, I’d be drinking, and is that really better? So I took the case, and our first stop was to head back to the Market District. Jensine was our only real lead on the matter, so talking to her seemed a likely first step.

She took some buttering to open up, but once done, she gave us a name. Jensine: “It’s all that bastard, ‘Audens Avidius.’ He’s in here every month taking my wares without paying for them. What can I do? he’s a captain of the Imperial Watch. Only another Watch Captain can arrest him.” Trials: “That sounds like a system that is rife for abuse.” Jensine: “By the way, since you’re being such a Good Samaritan, mind listening to me about another problem we’re having?” Trials: “...well, long as I’m here, listening is free.” Jensine: “You see, I’m the chairperson for the Society for Concerned Merchants. We formed this group a while back to keep a nice, fair, economic balance in town.” Trials: “This sounds very anti-consumer.” Jensine: She frowned. “Hey, we work hard to maintain our shops. So what if the clerk who runs a store decides to charge a little more, for meat, and milk, from 3E 3-8-4?” Trials: “Oh by the Nine, no more rhyming, please!” Jensine: “Anyway, our little price-fixing scheme was working fine until Thoronir opened up his shop. Selling all sorts of merchandise, he undercuts prices like you wouldn’t believe. People who buy tend to want to spend their money there. That leaves none for us. It’s getting so bad a few of us may have to close up shop.” Trials: I rolled my eyes at her. “Lady, that’s called ‘capitalism’. It sucks for ninety-nine percent of everyone. Wear a helmet!” Jensine: “Look, we’re convinced that Thoronir is up to no good--” Trials: “Really? ‘Cause it sounds to me like you’ve just got a case of sour grapes that he’s beatin’ ya at your own game. Not my fault you can’t handle actual competition.” Jensine: “...” She growled and grumbled. “We’re willing to pay you if you’ll investigate Thoronir on our behalf.” Trials: I set my hands on my hips, and offered her the stink-eye. “With what? Store credit? Because between getting taken to the cleaners by Thoronir and getting shaken down by the guards, it sounds an awful lot like your ‘Society’ is flat broke. “I’ll look into it in the off chance that something shady is going on, but I expect actual gold if I find something, capiche? I don’t exactly feel inclined to offer charity to scheming, organized price-gougers.”

Honestly, the job for the ‘Society of Concerned Merchants’ was a low priority to me. I’d much rather focus on the Watch Corruption case. But Jensine was about as useful as a Water-Breathing Potion to an Argonian on that front, so with no other leads, I decided, heck, why not just ask a guard? This fine gentleman here, “Warder Gnaeus,” seemed a likely place to start, so I hit him up for info. He was... less than enthused to help, or even listen. Warder Gnaeus: “If you’ve got a complaint, tell it to the Watch Captain. I’ve got better things to do than listen to you whine.” Trials: “Gee, between this and the Waterfront taxes, I can’t believe I used to wonder why you guys had such a bad reputation.” Warder Gnaeus: “What’s that, lizard? I do believe I hear you asking for a beating.” Trials: “...” I backed up slowly. “Okay, let’s dial the hostility down a notch. We’re at an ‘eleven’ and I think we need to be at a ‘two’. “Let’s try; ‘can you point me to a Watch Captain, kind sir?’“ Warder Gnaeus: “Go see Hieronymus Lex. He’s a pompous fool, just like you. He might listen to your complaint.”

We found Lex--where else?--in the Waterfront District. Near the Bloated Float, at that. Lex: “Unless you have word on the Gray Fox, my time is limited.” Trials: “You’ve really got a one-track mine, don’tcha? Any chance you can turn that Ten Septim haircut toward dealing with a corrupt Watch-Captain?” Lex: He snorted. “I don’t have time for this, now. I’ve got poor people to harass! Take this problem to Itius Hayn. He’s also a Captain of the Imperial Watch.” Trials: I rolled my eyes at him. “Well, AGAB continues to hold true, I see. Guess we’ll see if Itius Hayn breaks the streak or not.”

Back in the city proper, I found “Ititus Hayn” in the eatery called “The Feed Bag.” I hit him up for a talk. Itius: “‘Itius Hayn,’ Guard Captain. You don’t want to know me. Stay on the right side of the law, and we can stay perfect strangers.” Trials: “Pretty icy intro. You must be great at parties.” Itius: “I’m a cop-first and a friend-second. Now what’s your beef, stranger?” Trials: “I’ve been doing some asking around, and I’ve heard some disturbing stories about a corrupt Watch-Captain by the name of ‘Audens Avidius.’ We need you to look into it.” Itius: His brow furrowed in surprise. “These are very serious charges. If you can get two witnesses to testify against Avidius, I’ll arrest him. Otherwise, I can’t help you.” Trials: “Huh, why ‘two’ specifically? Seems kind of arbitrary, like it’s specifically designed to keep Guard Captains unaccountable.” Itius: “I don’t make the rules, I just use them to avoid doing my job.” Trials: “...so far, you’re not breaking the AGAB streak.”

Funny thing, that, I turned around and happened to find Jensine having her dinner at the Feed Bag, so I hit her up to see if she would testify against Audens Avidius. Jensine: She smiled knowingly. “Let’s see, what did you call me, earlier? A ‘scheming, organized price-gouger’?” Trials: “...” I grinned pathetically. “I... uh... I meant that in the nicest way!” Jensine: She immediately threw her drink in my face, slamming the cup back down on the table. “Go soak your head in goblin-piss, lizard!” Trials: I dripped with cheap ale. “I’ll take that as a ‘no’.”

Well, getting Jensine to cooperate was a bust, but I managed to track down Lorunk at his home, as well as the friend he’d mentioned earlier, “Ruslan.” The two of them were similarly hesitant to participate, but fortunately, I knew both were short on cash and desperate, so a little palm-greasing was all it took to get them in on the matter. Once they both agreed, I told them to find Itius Hayn first thing in the morning, and that I’d be in touch just in case they got into trouble. Just call me the Forged-Through-Trials Witness Protection Program, as I wasn’t about to let anything happen to those two.

[forged-through-trials]

With that business in the Market District finished, Ruin and I legged it over toward the Arcane University. The place was considerably ornate, and it felt like there was a charge in the air the instant I stepped through the door. The classrooms and facilities were off-limits to visitors, but I could go into the Entrance/Reception Lobby. Once inside there, I asked around about Boderi Farano, and thankfully Raminus Polus here was nice enough to offer to fetch her.

She arrived in two shakes of a guar’s tail, and I explained the situation and what I needed from her, offering her the three books I’d pinched from Grayrock Cave. Boderi: “Yes, I recognize this language. It’s definitely Ogrish. It is fairly rare to find so much written in this language. The Ogres are not very clever, and most don’t bother learning to write and read. “This one, however, was quite the prolific author. The words start coming and they don’t stop coming. Quill in the ink and he hit the page, runnin’.” Trials: “Yes, but what are the books about?” Boderi: “A cooking book, recipes for fun “A book of spells for a mage-y one “So much to do, so much to see “Book number three is a di-ar-y!” Trials: “...by the Nine, you’re friends with Reman Broder, from Skingrad, aren’t you?” Ruin: “Okay, we know what the books are, but we need more details. Can you translate the books in their entirety?” Boderi: “You both will know in about a week. “Can’t go faster, that is just my peak.“ Trials: “A week??” Boderi: “Hey now, it’s the best that, I can doooo!” “So now, get a move on, go and shoooo!” Trials: “...why are you singing??” Boderi: “It helps me get in the spaaaace “To translate Ogrish script, like an aaace!” Trials: “This song makes me feel like I’ve been concussed.”

With a week to kill and nothing better to do, I decided we could look into my other outstanding Vampire Case. According to my journal, Roland had mentioned that Seridur frequented the First Edition bookshop, so that seemed a likely place to go, and follow up on what became of him. Phintias was in when we arrived, so I chatted him up about the High Elf. Phintias: “Seridur? He comes in from time-to-time. Usually it’s when he’s out shopping. He always comes in with a large amount of travel food in his bag. That Seridur, he’s always like; ‘Yes, I have food in here. Which I eat. With my mouth. That totally doesn’t have fangs in it or anything.’ He’s such a kidder.” Trials: “...riiiiiiight. Uh, have you seen him lately?” Phintias: “Hmm... can’t sa--wait, yes, I think I’ve overhead him once mention Memorial Cave to another patron of mine.” Trials: “What and where is that?” Phintias: “It’s outside of the Imperial City. I heard it’s a place where many of the heroes from past wars are buried. “I just assumed Seridur had a relative that died and is buried there. Not many people go out of there anymore, as the route is dangerous. “I looked it up once in an old atlas I had in stock. Here, let me mark it on your map.” Trials: “Huh. Can’t imagine why he’d go there.” Ruin: “Perhaps he has a Vampire Social Club there?”

According to the map-marker Phintias provided for me, Memorial Cave was on the mainland side of Lake Rumare. So Ruin and I just had to find a bridge to cross back over, and then it was just a matter of following the shore until we found it. Ruin: “This cave smells of vampires. It could be very dangerous. How do you wish to proceed, my friend?” Without a word, I produced several familiar potion bottles. Ruin: It dawned on him, and he grit his teeth, his brow furrowed. “You’re... really going to do it again?” Trials: “It worked so well, last time.” Ruin: “It nearly killed you, last time.” Trials: “But it didn’t kill me. It only made me wish I were dead. And that’s something I can live with, if only because it means I will live.” Ruin: Groaned and shook his head. “Ugh, well I can see I can’t talk you out of this. Just... please, do not die, my friend. I would miss you terribly.”

I drunk three hits of Skooma once more. Don’t try this cool thing at home, kiddies! Again, I had to rely on Ruin to fill me in on what happened while I was flying high on that liquid Moon-Sugar. Trials: “aaaaaaAAAH!” I rushed through the cave, slaying vampires with mighty blows. Every swing of my sword felled another one, as the walls were painted red with the blood of the abominations. Trials: “With these MAGIC WORDS, the King of Rape added another: 'CHIM,' which is the secret syllable of ROYALTY! “Vivec HAD what he needed from the Daedroth and so married him that DAY. In the hour that Bal had his head, the King of Rape asked for PROOF of love!” Vampires: “What is she even screaming about!?” Ruin: “She... appears to be reciting one of the Thirty-Six Lessons of Vivec.” Trials: “ And DESERVED our praise you do, for we are one! Ere you ASCENDED and the Eight became Nine, you walked among us, great TALOS, not as god, but as man!” Ruin: “...okay now I’m completely lost, too.” Trials: “...and ATE his neck-veins while SCREAMING praise to Reman, a NAME that no one knew yet!” Vampires: “...is it too late to surrender?” Ruin: “It was too late the moment the Skooma touched her lips.” The Skooma wore off shortly there after. I woke with a positively pounding headache, and proceeded to puke this morning’s meat pie into the ankle-deep pool of vampire blood filling the room. Trials: I whimpered. “...why do I keep doing that??” Ruin: He snarled. “Yes, why?? I keep telling you that it’s a bad idea, and you keep not listening to me. Do you really not care how you frighten and upset me when you do such reckless things?” Trials: “...” I blinked, then furrowed my brow, frowning. “Gee, Ruin, I don’t know what to say. I... okay, if it upsets you that much, I’ll cut back on the Skooma. We’ll just try and find other ways to deal with vampires from here on out.” Ruin: He sighed, crossed his arms, nodding sagely. “I would appreciate that. I’d prefer our friendship to be a long one.” Trials: “For sure, Ruin. I’m sure nothing will happen to separate us.” We searched through the recently slain vampires, but we didn’t find Seridur among them. But there was a deeper section of cave we’d yet to explore.

And indeed, in that last stretch of cave, we found the vampire himself! Seridur: “Do you really think that I’m surprised to see you here? I let you find me... and by the way, you’re about a month late!” Trials: “Yeah, I got held up. I know I took my time; I wanted to be properly prepared to face a vampire.” Seridur: “Fool! You really think a mere mortal lizard can adequately prepare for me?” Ruin: “...there’s about a dozen dead vampires in the other cavern who would attest that, yes, she is prepared.” Seridur: “I...” He visibly paled. “Oh... so that’s what all that noise was about.” Trials: “Dude, you hired my specifically because you knew I had a reputation. What did you think was going to happen?” Seridur: “I... I knew hiring you was a mistake, but I had to keep up appearances! The damned ‘Order’ insisted we get you into the picture. I think after I’m done with you, Gilen and Grey-Throat will have to be dealt with.” Ruin: “He’s pretty confident for a dead man.” Seridur: He arched his brow at us. “You... two aren’t scared, are you?” Trials: “Oh, if I were sober I might be petrified, but I’m still a little buzzed on Skooma at the moment. Right now, you look like a big scrib-jelly sandwich in clown-shoes.” Ruin: “And I just watch her slay a dozen of your brethren, wielding a legendary vampire-slaying sword and flying high on drugs. I don’t think you alone will be any more difficult for us to deal with.” Seridur: “...oh. Shit.” [Light of Dawn liked that.]

Seridur pulled out a wicked-looking mace, but never got a chance to use it. As he was readying himself, I rushed in, and ran him through, slamming my sword through his gut before he even knew what hit him. Seridur gurgled and hissed, his fangs flashing in the dark, before he fell slump on my sword. Even as I made to kick him off of the blade, I could feel Light of Dawn strum intensely, vibrating in my hands so wildly I had to fight to keep a hold of it. The sword seemed to... to drink Seridur’s blood, and as it did, the gunk that Volmyr and his goons had smeared all over it started to burn away, and I could feel Light of Dawn’s power beginning to awaken. The sword’s glow shone more intensely, and I could make out the sun-decals stamped into the metal. LoD wasn’t quite ‘there’ yet, but I can feel that it had gotten one step closer to being the legendary Blade of Vampire’s Bane it once was.

With Seridur finally vanquished, there was nothing left to do here but to collect the loot. Among them, I found this parchment, labeled as “Reanimate, Part 1″. It appeared to be a spell, or part of one, at least. The spell was incomplete, and not particularly useful to me in this state, but I still collected it. I can stuff it in the Luggage for now, and maybe in time I’ll stumble on the other part or parts.

Now loaded down with treasure, Ruin and I hoofed it over toward Roland Jenseric’s cabin to give him the good news. I knocked on the door, and the man himself came out to greet us. Roland: "Where have you been?? It’s been a month! I’ve resorted to sucking condensation off of the rafters to quench my thirst!” Trials: “...there’s a literal farm directly across from the cabin. If you were thirsty I think you could have just eaten the watermelons.” Roland: “...okay, yes, but counter-argument; eww, watermelon.” Trials: “...” I groaned and rubbed my temple. “Anyway, we took care of Seridur.” Roland: “He’s dead? Thank goodness! I feared I’d never be able to leave here, or worse, that he would come for me!” Trials: “If you were afraid he’d come for you, why did you answer the door without hesitation?” Roland: “I figured, if you were Seridur, you wouldn’t have bothered with knocking, and would’ve just knocked the door down.” Trials: “Huh. Fair point. So, what’re you going to do, now?” Roland: “I’ve had a lot of time to think about that while stuck in here, talking to my socks to keep my mind occupied. The right-sock is convinced the Peryite Flu is a hoax the empire cooked up to seize more power.” Trials: “They’re a theocratic dictatorship! Why would they need to--wait. Why am I arguing with a sock?” Roland: “Anyway, the ironic thing is, I think the Order of the Virtuous Blood should continue its work.” Trials: “What ‘work’? You mean the ‘work’ of hiring me to do all of its work while Grey-Throat stuffs his face with sweetrolls?” Roland: “...yes. “Anyway, give me time to make arrangements, and meet me in Seridur’s basement. Also, I call dibs on Seridur’s flat.” Trials: “Wow. I’d say ‘the body’s not even cold, yet,’ but as a vampire, I’m pretty sure he was always room-temperature.”

[forged-through-trials]

Just when I was feeling good about finally overcoming my vampire troubles, I stumbled upon the answers to the case of the missing dead wife... and those answers knocked me for a loop. Rather than investigate Grayrock Cave right away, Ruin and I took a few days off. I’m sure, Gentle Reader, you might think that foolhardy, but you’ve never had to fight vampires before. It’s not something one normally does... but on Skooma, it is. Skooma; not even once!

I just needed some time to recover and detox, so I was laid up in bed for a few days before Ruin and I could hit the road again. But once we did, we made a beeline straight from Skingrad to Grayrock Cave. Boy, oh boy do I have to thank Kud-Ei for the Illusion lessons. They’ve just really improved my dungeon diving experience, and likely made cave-diving trips a lot more visually interesting for you, Gentle Reader. The cave was large, and sprawling, with at least two visible levels. Sheer ledges over looked a steep drop into a small valley, and the place was sparsely populated, mostly by animals.

...and skeletons. Lots and lots of skeletons. Oh, boy, is that a lot of rattled bones. What the heck was going on in here? As Ruin and I searched, we came upon a tunnel, behind a chest... which opened up into an area that glowed with red ambient light, lined with pikes decorated with skulls. Well, if they’re gonna roll out the ‘welcome mat’ for me, guess I oughtta come on in and check things out, eh?

Amid bonfires on opposite sides of cavern, we were jumped by an ogre. To think that not too long ago, getting jumped by an ogre would be a pretty big deal... but now, I was Forged-Through-Trials; Vampire Hunter. And I had a big friend with a big sword able to help me out. We two made fast work of the ogre, and were free now to explore the rest of this cavern. Near where the ogre was standing was a shelf, and upon it was some Suspicious looking meat. Gentle Reader, you know me; under normal circumstances, I find free meat, I’d be stuffing that stuff into my pack without a second thought. But to find meat in a dank cave, especially meat that looks this sketchy? Yeah... I ain’t touchin’ that stuff with a ten-foot pole. On the opposite side of the cavern, there sat a simple potion lab. Sharp-looking bottles littered the table and the shelf behind it, along with a globe with an unusually large rendition of Tamriel on it. Kind of a crap-globe, because I couldn’t find Akivir, Yokudan, or Atmora on it. It only had one huge Tamriel on it. A strange book sat on the table, with a few more up on the shelf. I tried to give it a once over, but the stuff was written in some kind of chicken-scratch that I couldn’t read. Hoping that this wasn’t some child’s imaginary scribbling--or worse, that the Skooma had brained my damage--I held onto the assumption that the writing was, in fact, a discernible language, and plucked up the book, and two more off of the shelf, stuffing them into my pack. What we found in there only raised more questions. So Baldor Varian was seen going in and out of this place frequently, but what ever for? And how would he get past the ogre who guarded it? Perhaps I’ll learn those answers when and if I can find someone to translate these books?

Once back in Skingrad, we legged it over to the Mages Guild, where we had the ‘pleasure’ of speaking to Adrienne Berene again. I found her... carrying a riding crop and calling for Erthor. Trials: “...” I groaned and shook my head. “Hey! Uh, sorry to interrupt... whatever it is you’re doing. And please, don’t explain, but I found some books written in a strange script, and I need them identified and translated.” Adrienne: She gave a jump, and quickly hid the riding crop behind her back. “...sure. On one condition; you didn’t see anything, just now.” Trials: “Oh, trust me, I will be trying to unsee everything related to you for the next week!” I passed her the three books I’d pinched. Adrienne: She inspected the books, and gave a thoughtful nod. “Ah, these appear to be written in Ogrish.” Trials: “...wow, ogres have a written language? I wonder what they write about.” Adrienne: “Mostly, they write about onions. But these books look considerably more complex, and I only know about three phrases in Ogrish; ‘this is my swamp,’ ‘it’s all ogre now,’ and ‘Malacath is love, Malacath is life’.” Trials: “...huh, not the most articulate of species, are they? Well, know anybody who might know a bit more Ogrish and could translate these books for me?” Adrienne: “I can think of several people, but your best chance would be Boderi Farano, at the Arcane University, in the Imperial City.” Trials: “Thanks! ...oh, and go easy on Erthor. He bruises like grape.” Adrienne: She blinked, and narrowed her eyes. “How do you kno--that cheating little son of a--” She drew her riding crop again and resumed searching for the Wood Elf. Trials: “...” I sighed and shook my head. “Time to repress another memory.”

So we had our lead; Ruin and I would be heading back to the Imperial City. By now, the heat from that Mages Staff job has probably died down, so it’s safe to return to the IC. But before we departed Skingrad, its Chronicles book mentioned a trainer of the bow, so I sought out the man, “Reman Broder.” Finding him near his home, I chatted him up about some training. Trials: “Hey, I know it’s late, but I’ve heard you’re ex-Legion and know a thing about how to use a bow. Think you could teach me?” Reman: “No, this is perfect. If you can hit something at night, you can hit it in the light.” Trials: “Huh, I never thought of it that way.” Reman: “If you don’t think of it that way, you’ll never think of it that day.” Trials: “...what’re you doing?” Reman: “I’m just practicing my poetry. I’m retired. What? There’s no hurry.” Trials: “...” I rolled my eyes at him. “Can we cut the rhymes and shoot some bows?” Reman: “Rhymes and bows have much in common, so saith this ex-lawman. “There’s a rhythm to each. That’s not easy to teach. “If you hope to hit the broadside of a barrow, you must master a cadence with your bow and arrows.” Trials: “...” [Speechcraft skill increased.] “...I’m not paying for that!” Reman: “That one’s for free. Now get down on one knee, take aim, and shoot an arrow or three, with me.” We practiced into the night, and after a few lessons, Reman congratulated me on my progress. I’d apparently learned all he could offer, so he offered me a recommendation. Reman: “I can teach you no more. And while it might be a chore, “Seek a Wood Elf in the wilds, a master of the bow she’s styled. “’Alawen’ was her name, and in the forest east of Anvil, she hunts game. “From you, a master of the bow she’ll make, assuming you’ve got the Drakes.” Trials: “...great, now do it in Haiku!” Reman: “...” He sighed. “Alawen, master, “East of Anvil, South, Kvatch “She’ll teach you, for gold.”

The following morning, Ruin and I ‘borrowed’ a horse, and made for the Imperial City. Ruin: “...you own a horse?” Trials: “Not exactly... but I know the guy who owns this horse.” Ruin: “I see. And they will be alright with you taking their horse to the Imperial City?” Trials: “Trust me. We’ll never hear any complaints about it.” All technically true. I know most of the major players in Skingrad, so I ‘know’ the person who owns this horse. And ‘we’ll never hear them complain’... because he’s never going to find out it was me! With my pack loaded down with loot, we rode to the Imperial City. If I was going to schlep it all the way there, I was going to make some Septims off of this trip.

First real stop, after arriving, was A Fighting Chance. Even though I have the Light of Dawn, now, I still wanted one of those replica sword from Mercator. If anything else, Ruin could use it. It still cost quite the pretty Drake, but I managed to acquire one of those marvelous swords, and... well... this replica is actually slightly sharper than Light of Dawn. Hmm... [Light of Dawn seethed with jealousy.] Nah, nah, I’ll be sticking with LoD for now, hehe. But this beauty will look fabulous on my mantle... too bad I don’t have a house! After that, I turned around to Rohssan to sell off a little more loot, and take a few lessons in Smithing. I don’t plan on becoming a professional smith or anything, but if I can keep my gear in tip-top shape, well that would just be one more thing that could help keep me alive, now wouldn’t it? Rohssan: “Well, what’re you hoping to learn about Smithing?” Trials: “How to swing a hammer without breaking my thumbs.“ Rohssan: “You... just tuck your thumb in before you swing.” Trials: Revelation. “Of course!” [Armorer skill increased.] Rohssan: “...that’ll be thee-hundred gold.” Trials: “...by the Nine!” Well, that lesson apparently pushed me into the category of ‘Expert’... which makes me fear for the poor Journeyman Smiths. But now that I’m at this level, I’d need to seek out a Master to get any better. So Rohssan referred me to a local Master; “Gin-Wulm.” With recommendation in hand, I sought out Gin-Wulm, and found him in the Market square. He was... less than enthused with my request. Gin-Wulm: He groaned, and crossed his arms. “Ugh... fine, if you care so much about learning the art of Smithing, then you should be able to pass a simple quiz.” Trials: “Uh... sure. Lay it on me!” Gin-Wulm: “Alright. What does the name ‘Hazadir’ mean to you?” Trials: “...” I blinked. “...dammit, a quiz I haven’t studied for. This is just like that dream, only I’m not in my underwear.” Gin-Wulm: “...uuuuuuhh.”

Trials: “...” I yelped and covered myself as best I could. “AHH!?”

Retreating from the Market square, I... first found my clothes. Then, I decided to hit up the First Edition bookstore. While I ran from the square, Gin-Wulm had mentioned a book, “The Armorer’s Challenge” as a hint to the answer to his riddle. The gist of the story is; during the reign of Empress Katariah, she proposed that an ex-slave, ‘Hazadir,’ design armor and weapons for troops going into Black Marsh. He was to compete with Sirollus Saccus, the greatest smith in the Imperial City at the time, for the contract. Long story short; Hazadir won the competition, by knowing the environment of Black Marsh well, and designing simple, cheap, effective armor made for the climate and conditions. Huh, and here I thought studying for this quiz would be boring? It was actually kind of fun learning about an Argonian, a former slave at that, who won a competition through wit and wisdom. Now, armed with both pants and answers, I returned to Gin-Wulm to answer his quiz. Gun-Wulm: “Ah, I see you remembered your clothes this time. So, can you now answer my question?” Trials: “Sure can! ‘Hazadir’ was the winner of the Armorer’s Challenge.” Gun-Wulm: “So, you do know a thing or two... Hazadir was my father’s brother’s nephew’s cousin’s former roommate.” Trials: “...what’s that make us?” Gun-Wulm: “Absolutely nothing!” Trials: “Alright, now will you teach me what you know about Smithing?” Gun-Wulm: “Alright... do you know about tucking your thumbs in?” Trials: “...I’m not paying for this.”

[forged-through-trials]

With the Light of Dawn in my hands, I decided it was time to put the legend of this blade to the test. Ruin insisted on accompanying me this time, and I agreed that the extra muscle would be very necessary given what I’d planned to do. Of course, testing this sword meant finding some vampires. On that matter, I wasn’t sure where to start. There’s Fort Carmala, but that was quite out of our way... plus, I still have nightmares about the place. Nornalhorst was also out; the place crawled, and the vamps in there looked like they could body an ogre. Besides, if I were to die in there, Light of Dawn would just fall back into Volmyr’s hands. At least if I die somewhere else, there’s a chance the sword could be recovered. Well, Skingrad is basically the city of vampires, so maybe searching around there was a good place to start? And indeed, Ruin and I went to scout the countryside about Skingrad, looking for signs of vampires.

Jackpot! This ruin, “Vlastarus” looked like a likely place to case. Ruin and I prepped as best we could, then dove into the place, sneaking until we at last found evidence of vampires.

We were attacked almost immediately, and I stood and drew the Light of Dawn. The sight of the sword gave the vampire pause, as if she recognized the sword and its legendary reputation for slaying her kin. But she drew on me anyway, and moved in. She hissed, her fangs bared while she came at me. I defended myself, and Ruin drew up behind her. Taking attacks from both sides, her attention torn between the two of us. Of course, like most vampires, she was tankie, shrugging off otherwise mortal blows, but every cut from the Light of Dawn seemed to slow and hinder the vile creature all the more. Finally, I found a chink in her armor, and caught her in the mid section, slicing her open. That blow seemed the mortal one, I could sense it through the sword. It vibrated, and I could sense some of the sword’s blood-lust being sated as the vampire howled and fell over, blood pooling under her. The sword wanted more, I could feel it. It hungered to slay more vampires. Ruin gasped, impressed, and I similarly could hardly believe it. After weeks of fearing these creatures, weeks of shame at my inadequacy, weeks of cases being left open and unresolved, I’d done it! I’d felled a vampire! And made Cyrodiil a slightly safer place in the process. Well, that was just step one. There were more vampires to fell in these ruins, and Ruin, Light of Dawn, and I, would see to it that the place was cleared. We found a few more, and they didn’t go down easy, but between the three of us, we prevailed, felling each of the vampires in turn, and claiming the spoils from this place.

Speaking of “spoils,” among them was a strange vintage of spirits. The faded label upon the bottles read: “Shadowbanish Wine.” It looked sweet and aged to perfection, definitely something I’d want to horde in the Luggage for a while, so I pinched it, and with the treasures of this place collected, Ruin and I retreated to Skingrad to rest up and patch our wounds. After a day of resting, and thinking on what to do next, I made up my mind. With the Light of Dawn in my hands, I felt like I I was ready. It was time to return to Fort Carmala.

Ruin: “I would like to begin by voicing my concerns that this is a bad idea.” Trials: “Ruin, you’re my pal, and I love ya, but you think all of my ideas are bad.” Ruin: “It’s because you’ve had consistently bad ideas. And I do not see how this breaks the streak.” Trials: “I’ve got an ace up my sleeve, this time!” I produced twelve large potion bottles. “Skooma!” Ruin: “...” He groaned and shook his head. “Few situations are improved by taking drugs. Least of all, life-or-death struggles against vampires.” Trials: “Trust me on this one. Back in Vvardenfel, I’ve seen Skooma-addicts burst through solid stone walls while shouting: ‘OH YEAH!’ If they can do that on this stuff, I should be able to swing my sword a little harder on it.” Ruin: “Or you could tear your muscles in twain swinging harder than your body can keep up with. It could cause permanent damage, give you a heart-attack, or force you into a coma!” Trials: “Yeah, yeah, I’ve read all of the after-school scrolls, too. But that all sounds like something for Future-Trials to deal with. Present-Trials here is going to go slay her some vampires!” Ruin: “...” He groaned again, shrugging. “I will, as always, accompany you. And when you pass out after a bad Skooma trip, I will be there to drag you back out of the Fort and to the nearest healer.”

First, though, this courier will not be deterred from her appointed rounds. I had a delivery to make, bringing a package to Adrienne Berene at the Skingrad Mages Guild. Trials: “So, what’d ya order?” Adrienne: “A tracking scroll for Erthor. I’ll not misplace him again.” Trials: “...lady, not to pry, but unless you two are dating and he’s fully consented to you being his dommy-mommy, this sounds super sketchy.” Adrienne: “Look, when I want judgement from a drunk lizard, I’ll buy Druja a few pints and stop spanking her long enough to let her catch her breath.” Trials: “...Skingrad is weird.”

But once that was done, Ruin and I crossed the Great Forest. Within hours, I’d returned to Fort Carmala, the place of my previous defeat, and hopefully, the place of my soon-to-be greatest triumph! Huh... the vampires never cleaned up that dead adventurer. Poor guy, I think the vamps are using him as decoration. I sure hope that doesn’t happen to me if I don’t make it.

Once deep into the heart of this place, Ruin and I stumbled onto a nest of at least six vampires. It seemed as opportune a time as any, so I broke out the Skooma... and proceeded to chug three of them. Ruin had to fill me on what happened afterward. I don’t really remember what happened once the Skooma was down. I think chugging three at a time as a first-time Skooma-Sucker wasn’t the brightest of plans... ...I’m not entirely sure, but I think I could walk through walls. All I remember for sure was Ruin standing over me once the high had worn off. As he helped me up, I noticed that we were surrounded by dead vampires. Trials: “...what the hell happened??” Ruin: “You downed the Skooma as you had planned, then tore through the vampires like a woman-possessed. It was amazing, and frightening. I can’t believe you took three pots at once. Have you ever even taken the stuff before?” Trials: “Let’s assume ‘no’.” Ruin: “From nothing to three pots at once? You’re lucky the your heart didn’t explode.“ He crossed his arms, his snout flared. “You were reckless beyond measure.” He chided, his expression softening. “But, admittedly, this would make a very humorous headline in the Black Horse Courier. ‘Local Argonian Literally Two Tweaked To Die.’“ In my Skooma-induced madness, I’d seemingly cleared the entire Fort. So, for now, it was just a matter of searching the place and collecting the loot. I doubt Zarov was among the vampires I slew; it had been so long since I’d started that case, chances were he was long gone by now. But maybe as we collected the treasure, we might find some clue where he’d w--

--huh. I missed one. And she’s not attacking. Ruin’s hackles were raised, but I approached more cautiously, sword drawn as I spoke to the woman in red. Lucy: She was visibly frightened. “Please don’t kill me!” Trials: “Whoa. It’s... strange, being on the other side of that.” Ruin: He pointed his sword at her. “Start Talking, Vampire!” Lucy: “What do you want me to tell you? I’ll tell you everything!” Trials: “...well, let’s start with ‘who are you?’“ Lucy: “I’m Lady Lucy Varian. I was rescued from my demented husband by my savior, Baron von Zarov.” Trials: “...come again?” Lucy: “My husband is a monster! I don’t know what kind of monster, but I know he is one. Only the Baron could help me. I swear, he saved me from Baldor.” Trials: “Saved you?? Lucy, you’re a vampire!” Lucy: “I know I’m a vampire, but it was the only way to be safe from Baldor. You see, I had to be dead for him to let me go.” Ruin and I traded confused glances, before he turned to Lucy and spoke up. Ruin: “We do not understand you. Why were you so desperate to get away from him?” Lucy: “I was married to him only a few weeks, and each night I was locked up in some cage he made for me. We never even consummated our wedding... for which I’m actually glad. But, see, he is not human! No human would treat a newly-wed bride that way!“ Ruin: “There had to have been another way. Did you not try to tell someone? To call for help?” Trials: “Yeah, like Elizabetha, or Doctor Helsong.” Lucy: “I couldn’t involve anyone else. He would have killed them. We had another servant before, and I made the mistake of talking to him. I don’t know how Baldor knew I did, but soon after, the servant disappeared.” Trials: “But... but to turn into a vampire...” Lucy: “It is better to live as a creature of the night, than as a weak, sequestrated wife.” [Light of Dawn hated that.] Lucy: “Is... something wrong with your sword?” Trials: “No, no, it just has a hate-boner for vampires. Speaking of, where is the Baron, now?” Lucy: “I don’t know. He left me here with these vampires to teach me how to be one of them.” Trials: “Yeah, I kind of killed all of your trainers. My bad.” Lucy: “The Baron left for another province. He’d said he had some other matters to take care of and that he’ll be back for me soon.” Ruin: “So he just abandoned you here?” Lucy: “No, I don’t think so. The Baron is a kind and faithful friend. He saved me while he could have let me rot with my husband. It was he who devised the whole plan to make me look dead. He only wanted to protect me. I... I think he might be in love with me. Though he never actually said anything about it. He is shy and respectful like that.” Trials: I rolled my eyes. “Huh. So he prefers to bite than to kiss?” Lucy: “If you want proof of my husband’s misbehavior, you should explore Grayrock Cave. Elizabetha once told me that he has been seen near there quite often by travelers.” We let Lucy be, much to Light of Dawn’s chagrin, and retreated. The plot thickens! Just as we’d finally solved the case of the theft of Lady Lucy’s corpse, a new twist and wrinkle develops, and I have a new side of this case to investigate. Apparently, Lord Baldor Varian was abusing his wife, ‘silenced’ a servant, and maybe up to other horrible deeds! Are there any nobles in Skingrad who don’t have something shady going on?

[forged-through-trials]

Once we arrived in Anvil, I just had to jaunt over to the Gold Horse Courier offices there to deliver the package, and pick up a new one, this time taking us back toward Skingrad. That business done, we hit up the Fighters Guild, and, thankfully, found Rhano in front of the training dummy. We chatted, and I inquired about training in the blade from him. Rhano: “Training, huh? Do you know how to use that thing?” He asked, pointing at my sword. Trials: “Sure I do. The pointy end goes in the other guy!” Rhano: “...” He sighed and buried his face in his hand. “This is going to take a lot of work.” Well, it was indeed a lot of work. but after hours of training, I’d improved quite a bit. Enough so that Rhano was eager to see me move on to better teachers. Rhano: “If the rumors are true, Alix Lencolia is passing through Cyrodiil.” Trials: “Who d’at?” Rhano: “Oh, you might not know him now, but he’ll be truly famous one day. A master of the blade! Word is already spreading of his skill, as even I’ve heard of him out here in Anvil. “I think someone saw him at Faregyl Inn not too long ago. You should look for him there.” Trials: “Oh, I think I’ve been there. A Khajiit there lost her potatoes. I found them, and she gave me bread and kisses.” Rhano: “...” He rolled his eyes. “Well, don’t expect Lencolia to kiss you.” Trials: “Ah, but you didn’t say anything about bread. So there’s still the possibility of a sandwich out of this.”

Ruin and I rested for a day after all of that intense training, then decided to go earn some cash. Ruin knew of another likely dungeon to hit, near to the town of Sutch, so we went looking for it, entered, and began to clear it out. It was a mostly uneventful dungeon dive. We defeated some Conjurers, and met a “Knight of Kynareth.” She didn’t have much to say, and seemed more interested in the undead of the dungeon, so we left her to her work while Ruin and I went about our own. Nothing too extravagant came out of that dive, but it was good experience, and a good chance to try out the skills I’d gained training with Rhano. For while these Conjurers plumbed Oblivion, seeking Daedra, I had studied the blade!

We rested a day, then hit the road again, and after a few hours, we were back in Skingrad. From there, it was just a short trip down to the Ranger’s Guild to deliver Moorswind’s package. No idea what he’d ordered; bow? arrows? More hoods? But with that job done, I picked up a delivery to Bravil, and we departed... then I recalled that book once more; “ An Expanded Excerpt from Vampires of Tamriel, Vol. II.” The book mentioned something about the diary of Threnodir Melainis being found somewhere East of Skingrad. Well, here we were, East of Skingrad. Ruin: “Do you not think we have enough on our plate? What about the delivery?” Trials: “Come on, Ruin. You wanted to see more of Cydoriil. Well, you can’t get the full experience just traveling the roads. I say we go cross country... and if we happen to stumble onto Nornalhorst while we’re enjoying nature... well, nothing says we can’t take a little peek, right?” Ruin: He grumbled with worry. “If we do find Nornalhorst, I would recommend... well, I would strongly recommend not going inside.” Well, Gentle Reader, guess what happened?

...we found Nornalhorst. Ruin again cautioned against us going in, so I told him he could wait outside. He liked that idea even less, but I explained the method to my madness; I’m a Sneak, and a good one. I’d actually be safer going in alone, and keeping a low profile. Ruin could stay out here, and if I get into trouble, rush in and hit my attackers from behind. I went in.... and oh boy was I suddenly having second thoughts about this. This place crawls with vampires, and I’m an exceptionally squishy lizard who is so far 0 for 2 when it comes to trying to fight these guys. Which, of course, is why I’m not fighting. Instead, I sneaked, quiet as a whisper, less than a shadow, slipping past a dozen vampires and deeper into the ruins, and trying to resist the urge to cry and go screaming back out into the countryside.

Oh... ah, a tricky trap. Great. All the more reason that I can’t be detected. The timing on this trap is complex, and if I don’t get it right, I’ll be bifurcated! I’d rather not have to try and think about how to dodge these blades while being chased by a dozen vampires, nor would I like to end up as half the woman I used to be.

After timing the blades and slipping through, I made it deeper into the crypt. Within the depths, I found a large room, with an altar in the middle. There was a vampire in very ornate armor near a casket, and I’m going to guess that’s Lord Volmyr, the vampire who captured the sword. And that, on the altar? Could it be? Yes! Yes it is! It’s the sword itself, the Light of Dawn! When no one was looking I pinched the sword. How I managed to shove a huge sword into my pack without any of the half-dozen vampires in the room noticing... heck if I know! I mean, you’d think vampirism would come with the heightened senses of an apex predator, maybe some night-vision at least, but nope, not a one of them spotted a huge, two-handed sword vanishing off of the altar. Somehow, I did it! I was now the proud owner of the Light of Dawn! Once in my hand, the sword responded to my grasp. I felt strange sensations, as if the sword was relieved to be taken from the altar... followed by an... “anger”? The sword was angry, and thirsty for vengeance!

...and no wonder the sword was P.O.’d. These vampires had covered it in some kind of nasty gunk. And I suspect that gunk is doing something to the sword; I can sense an enchantment within the blade, but the sword seems weak and unpowered despite that. It’s got a wicked edge on it, though. Sharper than anything else I’ve come across by a country mile. Definitely worth hanging onto, even if the gunk on it kind of smells funny.

I retreated from Nornalhorst, collected Ruin, and returned to the... relative safety of Bravil. There, we had to deliver that package... and guess who the recipient was? Trials: “Got more reading material for ya.” Hans Black-Nail: “Good. Good! Hail Dagon!” Trials: I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, ‘Stale Layman,’ ‘Shawn is baking’ and ‘Meet the Bluejay.’” Hans Black-Nail: “...” He frowned at me. “What, am I a joke to you? You’ll be singing a different tune, soon enough.” Trials: I shrugged at him. “Whatever! Just pay me so I can be on my way.” Hans Black-Nail: “Fine, but when the revolution comes, you will not be spared!” With that finally done, Ruin and I decided to rest in Bravil for a day before heading out again, taking the time to mull over what we should do next.

[forged-through-trials]

Before we left Cheydinhal, I decided to invest in some training here. Back when we first arrived, and I delivered a package for Ohtesse, she mentioned her work as a trainer of Restoration. My skills at magic are considerably lacking, but if I can mend wounds a little better, well that would be just splendid. Especially considering how often I get injured. Straightening my snout and realigning bones with magic is a heck of a lot more convenient than cracking them back into place the hard way. So I dumped the cash on a few lessons. Ohtese: “Looking to learn more about our lord, Arkay, my child?” Trials: “Actually I’m looking to learn how to avoid meeting him for a little while longer.” Ohtesse: “Aha. So you seek training in Restoration? Well, tell me what you know about the art already?” Trials: “Well, I know that if people poke me with sword enough I’ll stop moving, and would like to increase the threshold of what ‘enough’ is.” Ohtesse: “That... sure is a motivation.”

As promised, I returned the Divine Shield of Lightning. I had little use for it, and it fetched a tidy sum that made up for all of the cash I blew on Restoration training. With that jangling in my pockets, we were ready to hit the shops one last time before we headed out.

I picked up some new threads. Whatcha think? I think as far as street clothes go, they look pretty nice, if a little wrinkly. I suppose it looks better than my old street clothes, and I’ll probably hang on and wear it for a bit until I decide I might want something better. I also picked up that backpack, and unloaded all of the loot from that dungeon dive. So we’re rolling a little lighter and a little richer, now. That business concluded, and further business on hold, we departed from Cheydinhal, heading back West.

There were a few scrapes and adventures along the way, but the important part came up when Ruin and I arrived in Weye. There, we hooked up with Elahai and Thalonias. The two looked like they were in high spirits, both of course, happy to be reunited, and offered me their gratitude. Elahai offered his thanks in the form of... a “Filed Shinbone.” Trials: Confused. “...why... thank... you?” Elahai: “It’s enchanted.” Trials: I arched my brows at him. “...you couldn’t enchant a key, or a piece of paper, or something?” Elahai: “When locked up in a cage by goblins, you work with what you have. It was either a shin bone or an enchanted pile of rat-droppings.” Trials: “...ya know what? I’ve handled enough poop in my life, so you made the right call!” Thalonias gratitude was expressed through a valuable necklace that buffed my Luck. Though, I’m already pretty lucky as is, given what I’ve managed to survive so far. Maybe not the most useful item, but valuable, and it’s the thought that counts, right? After that, Thalonias talked to me about setting up shop here in Weye, and going into business together. Never really thought about starting a business before, but Thalonias was ever-convincing. Thalonias: “I’d like you to go around to the various merchants of Cyrodiil, and see if you can cut a deal to have them send items for me to sell.” Trials: “Okay, what’s in it for me?” Thalonias: “You get to spend your own money helping me get my shop off of the ground!” Trials: “...this doesn’t sound very enticing so far.” Thalonias: “Well, when I get my shop running, I can gladly pay you back... with discounts and store credit!” Trials: “Store credit?? ...you’ve got beer and gum, right?” Thalonias: “I can have beer and gum, if you want!” Trials: “...cool! I’m in!”

After that, it was a hop, skip, and a jump away to Skingrad, where I finally picked up that weak “Elixir of Exploration” from Sinderion. Old guy was actually kind of concerned about me, asking where I’d been. This Elixir had been finished for a few weeks now and it was just gathering dust without me coming to pick it up. Sinderion: “Where’ve you been?” Trials: “Just... busy, ya know?” Sinderion: “Oh? Have you been looking for more Nirnroot?” Trials: Sardonic. “...sure, guy. I’ve been turning the province upside down looking for them.” Sinderion: “Well, don’t be a stranger. I don’t get out much... and I just appreciate your company. Most people just laugh at my life’s work, but you were the first one to take it seriously.” Trials: “...” I frowned, touching a hand to my cheek. “Wow... I-I didn’t know that. I mean, Falanu said everyone hates you, but she’s weird and creepy so I didn’t take her seriously.” Sinderion: “Why do you think I live in a literal basement? “It would mean so much to me if I could perfect the formula for the Elixir of Exploration. It would make all my work with Nirnroot worthwhile, and I’ll no longer be the laughing stock of the TES fandom the Alchemy Symposium.” Trials: “...Jeez. Well, you sure know how to make a gal feel appreciated. Look, buddy, all I can say is; I’ll continue to look for Nirnroot, but no promises.” Sinderion: “Good to hear. I’ll need twenty samples for the next magnitude of the elixir, so get out there and go searching!” Ruin and I then picked up a package to deliver to Anvil, before continuing on our way down the road.

It was while on the road, that we noticed the crossroads between Skingrad, Anvil, and Kvatch, and I realized I’d not been to Kvatch at all. So I convinced Ruin that we should take a detour and go visit the place. Ah, Kvatch, the City of the Wolf. From her cobblestone streets, to the soaring spires of the Chapel of Akatosh, to her friendly people. The place was a sight to behold. And look, I got to meet a local hero from back in Morrowind. Saint Jiub, the man who single-handedly drove the Cliffracers from Vvardenfel. A hero, a living legend, and I got to meet him and shake his hand! I whiled away hours admiring the city and hearing Saint Jiub’s stories, and when it got dark, Ruin and I retired to Kvatch’s Fighter’s guild, memories of the grand and beautiful city lulling me to sleep. Surely Kvatch is the jewel of Cyrodiil, and nothing bad will ever happen to it again. No sir, the Cameron Usurper may have sacked this town in the early Third Era, but now that she’s back on her feet she’ll continue to be a beautiful tourist destination for Eras to come.

We saw a certain Khajiit once we’d hit the road again, but he didn’t have time to speak to us, instead just rushing by, back up the road toward Skingrad. [ M’aiq Count: 5 ]

Then as it drew close to noon, we stopped at the Brina Cross Inn, popping in to check on Christophe Marane. Even though it had been a while, he still remembered my part in clearing up that mess with that Rogue Mage that was killing his business. It was while we chatted up that he mentioned his side gig as a trainer in Blunt. Well, I mainly use swords and bows, but knowing how to bonk someone with a mace and send them to Feisty Jail might also be a useful skill. Christophe: “Okay, what do you already know about using Axes, Maces, and Hammers?” Trials: “...well, I know axes aren’t supposed to be blunt. If you’re using a blunt axe, you need to take that thing into the shop and get it sharpened, ASAP.” Christophe: “No, see, the action of using an axe is more akin to using a mace or a hammer than a sword, so the principles of fighting with one fall under the school of ‘blunt’.” Trials: “I’m pretty sure your goal with both an axe and a sword is to cut the other guy with ‘em.” Christophe: “And that is why you’re a novice at using Blunt Weapons. You don’t know the first thing about them.” Trials: “...I think you’re just makin’ this stuff up.” Christophe: “Look, do you wanna bonk good or not?” Trials: “...you’re just lucky that I really need to turn my pipe-cleaner arms into sick-pythons.” Christophe: “Tell me about it. Do you even lift, bruh?” After hours of training, we were finished, I was a little better at lifting axes, maces, and hammers, and ready to continue on to Anvil.

[forged-through-trials]

We entered the door, and delved into a small hallway, with three glowing archways in three alcoves. Standing before these niches was another ghost, this one resembling a wizard. We spoke to him, to get his take on the matters. Ghostly Wizard: “You there! Slave! Why haven’t you brought me the ritual scroll?” Trials: “...” I flared my snout at him. “Excuse me??” Ghostly Wizard: “I need it to fight the dremora! ...or was it to summon the dremora? ...summon the Aylieds? I... do not remember... “Anyway, it is somewhere in the Agreasel. Bring it to me, quickly!” Trials: I narrowed my eyes at him. “No, no, go back. What did you just call me?” Ghostly Wizard: “And a word of caution, slave--” Trials: “I will punch you!” Ruin: “Trials, you cannot punch a ghost.” Trials: “I will find a way!” Ghostly Wizard: “--The portals are... unstable... for some reason. They do not work as expected. You may not always appear where you think. And have a care for that dremora who stole the Waters of Anu. He’s in here somewhere. Probably need those to restore the Sacred Well. Put them back in.”

Once I suppressed the urge to introduce this ghost’s nose to my fist, I processed the task he’d given us. We had a strange dungeon to explore, and explore it we will. It took me a while to figure this out, but the place is a bit like a maze. The glowing archways could take me and Ruin around to the different rooms in this place, but only one could actually advance us to the next area. The rest would send us back to the beginning of the maze.

Ruin and I began to explore... and were stopped short by the dremora forces right away. Every inch we advanced was hard-won, as dozens of dremora stood between us and our advance. It didn’t really help matters that we fell afoul of the traps in this place. Firstly, there were the broken archways, booting up back to the beginning of the maze. Then, there was the Dark Welkyn stone, which fired the gods-damn lightning of Julianos at me. I think I’m still smoking from being hit by it. And then there was the inconspicuous red circle, in the room with the white fire coming out of braziers. Sure, it looked like a decorative bit, much like the red markings on the floor I’d seen throughout the Agreasel. Then I stepped on it, and a Storm Atronach appeared from thin air! The thing packed a wallop, able to send me reeling with but a blow, and it’s shock spells hurt almost as much as that cursed Dark Welkyn stone. Ruin could tank those hits a little more easily than I could, so he ran interference while I sniped it from afar. Granted, a huge golem made of electrified stones could take a plinking with arrows like a champ, and Ruin was forced to retreat before it was downed. Thus led to me poking my head out to shoot, followed by ducking back behind a pillar to dodge the lightning. A few more shots finally downed the Daedra, much to my relief.

So something I’d been glossing over; I learned to summon a Golden Saint a while ago. She’s been an asset, saving my leathery hide on more than a few occasions. Well, while enlisting her help in this dungeon, a thought occurred to me. Trials: “...hey, uh, may I ask you something?” Golden Saint: Curt. “Speak quickly, mortal!” Trials: “Yeah, sorry, I really should have asked this sooner; what do I call you?” Golden Saint: She gave pause, and blinked at me, confused. “...what?” Trials: “Your name? We’ve worked together for a little while, now, but I never got your name.” Golden Saint: “...’Lilitham.’“ Trials: “Huh. Sounds pretty.” Lilitham: She flushed visibly. “Th-thank you... mortal.” Trials: “Call me ‘Trials’.” Lilitham: “...very well, ‘Trials’.”

After making my way through this maze, I found... this strange room. Large stones covered in runes stood before me, with plates in front of each one. Starting at the northen-most stone, and going clockwise, they were listed as; the “Tree Stone,” the “Waves Stone,” the “Flame Stone,” the “Mountain Stone,” and the “Sword Stone.” A stone plate in the middle gave me a rough idea what to do. The stones needed to be activated in a particular order, and that order had to include the Tree Stone as the first, and the Mountain Stone as the third in sequence. The center tablet also mentioned that any sequence where the Tree Stone was first, and the Mountain Stone was second, would likely be very, very bad. So I was sure to avoid any such combination. That still left me to try and figure out the sequence, but while I looked for clues, I noticed five Soul Gems of increasing quality on a shelf in one corner of the room, laid out around a glowing, white flame. I compared them to the standing stones, and thought that they, perhaps, lined up. Indeed, if we assume the Tree Stone, which we know is first in sequence, was the Petty gem, then it lines up with the Mountain being the Common gem, the third in quality. So assuming that was my ‘key’ to this puzzle, I activated the stones in sequence, and... jackpot! Well, about as ‘jackpot’ as a huge, glowing, red portal can be. My, oh, my but that seems quite ominous. However we’d come this far, so we might as well dive in the rest of the way. Turns out, Ruin couldn’t follow. The portal only admitted me. So it was up to me  to scale the spiral staircase overlooking an abyss of nothingness, to the top of this tower, and face whatever lies there. Yay.

What lay at the top? A dremora calling himself the “Storm Magus.” Well, that name alone sounded like bad news, and I’d had enough of being hit with Shock spells today. Thankfully, I had a counter for him. From one of the lesser dremora throughout the dungeon, I’d looted a staff that could cast Silence. That stopped most of his spell-casting, cold, and while he was so disabled, I called on Lilitham, as well as another Dremora from a scroll. The two of them worked the Storm Magus down, while I ran interference and kept him Silenced. Lilitham got him good in the side, and I’d thought the fight was won, only for the Magus to chug a potion and return to the fight immediately. Curses. Only I’m supposed to avoid dying by chugging potions like a chump! My two stalwart Daedra continued to whittle down the Storm Magus while I kept him quiet and non-spell-casty. But he just kept chugging potions every time he was dealt a mortal blow. It was a race to see who would run out of resources first; his potions versus the charge in my staff. Both were running low, and sweat beaded my brow as I could feel the staff losing power. Once it ran out, he’d have access to his magic again, and I’d be screwed! Finally, Lilitham slammed him with a sucker-punch, knocking the Magus off of his feet. Then she plunged her sword into his gut. I waited with baited breath as he reached into his pocket, but I could see by the look on his face that he found nothing within. He was finally out of potions. He slumped back with a groan, vanquished at last... and just as my staff ran out of charge. What a dramatic finish!

Now that he was down, I pinched what was left on him, and began to search the top of this tower for any decent loot. Among them, I found this strange, magical shield, with “Divine Shield of Lightning” inscribed on it. I recalled, now, that it was mentioned among the stolen items on the notice board in town. So, turning it in back there was sure to offer a nice, sizable reward for my efforts.

Also among the treasures, I’d found the Waters of Anu. I now had what I needed to restore the Sacred Well. I had not, however, found the Ritual Scroll that boorish Ghost-Wizard had requested. I’d have to find it later. Right now, however, I’m both overloaded with treasure, and feeling quite overwhelmed. I only just barely managed to defeat that Storm Magus, and that was after fighting my way through hordes of Dremora, and barely surviving traps that nearly killed me on their own. I feel ill-prepared for all of this, and I need something, anything more that could give me the edge. The treasure we’d plundered from this dive can more than pay for a little trip. So, it’s time; we’re putting the Cheydinhal Business on hold, and returning to Anvil in order to seek the tutelage of a Sword Master. The Chronicles of Anvil book I found while there said “Rhano” at the Fighters Guild trained in the blade, so I will travel there, and return to this story, when I’m a master of swords.

[forged-through-trials]

By the time the loot was sorted and stowed, we had just enough time to hit the shops before they closed. In “Borba’s Goods And Stores” I found the proprietor, “Borba gra-Uzgash”, and chatted her up while browsing her wares. Borba: “We’ve got everything the adventurer needs. I, myself, used to be an adventurer like you.” Trials: “...and then you took an arrow to the knee?” Borba: “Nope. Got busted for tax-evasion. It’s actually really hard to keep proper records as an adventurer. So I opened this shop, instead. Much easier to keep track of what I earn and what I owe.” Trials: “...oh, darn, I’m supposed to be keep track my earnings?” Borba: “Oh, yes, the Empire always gets theirs, eventually. “Listen, if you need some quick cash and don’t mind risky adventurer business, I got some hot tips on some likely spots to case.” Trials: “Oooohh! Lay it on me, lady.” Borba: “Just let me see your map.” I passed her my map, and she set some markers upon it. “Here we have ‘Rickety Mine’, out east along the Blue Road. ‘Kemen’ is an old Ayleid Ruin in the same direction. Quickwater Cave, to the North, is another option. I cleared it out, but I haven’t been there in years. It might have new tenants.” Trials: “Hey, thanks for the tips. Do I owe ya anything?” Borba: “Nah, just make sure that if you make any coin from those dives, spend it here. Otherwise, stay safe!” Ruin and I didn’t head back out right away. Instead, we retired to the Fighters Guild to get some sleep, and then embarked the following day, early in the morning.

Quickwater Cave wasn’t anything special. Just some animals, a few imps, and an Ogre. Ruin and I took care of them pretty quickly. The spoils were mostly the valuable animal/monster parts, though there were a few chests here and there to loot.

The day was still young, and we’d only just gotten started, so Ruin and I trekked East, looking for Rickety Mine and/or Kemen to fill our loot-quota. On the way, we were waylaid by goblins--which sounds really familiar all of a sudden. The Goblins were, themselves, a test of our skills and might, but we downed them quickly enough. All they’d succeeded in doing was to draw our attention to their lair, “Breakneck Lair.” I thought about what I knew of goblins, and what came to mind was the story of Thalonias, the Breton we met back in Weye. It struck me that the circumstances Ruin and I found ourselves in mirrored Thalonias’ tale of his caravan being ambushed... which made me realized, we must have found the lair of he goblins who’d waylaid him. We entered, and began clearing the place. Perhaps I should be more sympathetic to goblins, given their status of being considered vermin here in Cyrodiil. My own kind were little more than property back in Morrowind, so I know how much it sucks to be seen as beneath ‘civilized’ people. But as far as I’m concerned, these particular goblins are no better than bandits. They prey on the innocent, attacking anyone who nears their lair. As Ruin suggested, like bandits we should show them no quarter.

As we cleared, we spied a cage, with an Argonian in robes within. Wait... didn’t Thalonias mention something about that? The Argonian indeed introduced himself himself as “Elahai.” Amazing! He somehow survived, even as the goblins’ prisoner. Thalonias will surely be happy to hear his old friend made it after all. I pinched the key off of one of the Goblins we’d felled, so we were able to release Elahai. He thanked us, and departed quickly, eager to see his friend again. But ever dutiful, he asked me to find the shipping manifest and get it back to Thalonias, so he could assess what merchandise had survived the goblins.

That, I found in a nearby crate. Great, we have everything we need, so next time we’re in Weye, we can speak to Thalonias and get rewarded for this work.

Ruin and I continued to clear the lair, when at the bottom of the caves, we found... the goblins being commanded be a Daedra! A Dremora, in fine, heavy robes no less, was somehow the chieftain of these goblins. He commanded them fiercely, sending goblin berserkers after Ruin and I. Of course, we just dispatched them as they came at us, and quickly did in the Dremora, felling him with a few arrows. On the Dremora, I found a strange glowing orb, similar to the Sigil Stones I found with the Conjurers in Belda. Further, past the Dremora and his goblin guards, we found a door. It looked not unlike the doors that led into Aylied ruins. It was locked at first, but as I drew closer, the orb I’d plucked off of the Dremora began to glow, and I held it up to the door. The door hummed and strummed in time with the orb, and then clicked, opening before us.

Whoa! What in the heck did I just stumble on? A pond of lava, Ayleid constructions, and tons of Dremora. Ruin and I sniped our way through the Dremora hordes as we explored deeper into these ruins, crossing the small lake of fire, navigating twists and turns, while fighting our way through Daedra hordes one after another. And may I confess a guilty secret? After Mephala played me like a lute, it felt kind of good to lay these Daedra low. At least some Daedra will go screaming back to Oblivion knowing not to mess with Forged-Through-Trials!

Finally, we entered a room, rounded a corner, and found... a strange, translucent person in what looked like Elven Armor, dueling a group of Dremora. I helped, of course, sniping the Dremora from the shadows. Sure, I don’t know this guy from Talos, but he had beef with the Dremora who have been trying to kill me, and as they say, the enemy of my enemy sounds like a pretty cool dude in my book.

He approached me once the Dremora were down, confirming all suspicions that he was, in fact, a ghost, and not just a guy in a costume. Ayleid Ghost: “You... can... can it be? ...Are you the one... the one we have waited for? ...We have waited so long... so long...” Trials: “The one you’ve waited for?” Ruin: “You are... taking a face-to-face meeting with a ghost surprisingly well.” Trials: “Yeah, my old master used to summon his Ancestral Spirit to freak out his slaves and keep us in line. After a while, you get desensitized to the prescience of a ghost... however, expect me to scream like a hatchling with night-terrors the next time I sleep. Plug your ears, tonight.” Ruin: He grumbled. “Oh boy...” Ayleid Ghost: “...Can you save us... all of us... from the evil we have wrought? ...We have waited so long... we grow weak... you must be the one... you must be! “...Who are you? By what deeds can we know you?” Trials: “’Forged-Through-Trials.’ I’ve done many great works! Well, okay, a few, anyway. Some of them blow up in my face, but I have a decent track-record, all things considered.” Ayleid Ghost: “...you must be enough, then.” Trials: I rolled my eyes. “Oh, yes, sure, any port in a storm, is that your attitude? “What’re you even talking about? ‘Enough’ for what?” Ayleid Ghost: “Forgive me, mortal. I... wander. I have been here... so long... ever-guarding. “...I was once king of this place... Kerrach... once the greatest of all Ayleid Cities... but now we are dead... in our ignorance... in our pride... dead, and slaves in death... All but I. “...Does our name live among the Ayleids still? Do any still know of our pride, our folly?” Ruin: “Apologies to bear such ill tidings, but the Ayleids died out long ago.” Alyeid Ghost: “...Alas for their fate... but better than what befell Kerrach... attend me... I shall tell you... tell you of Kerrach...” “...Mighty was our city... and many were our enemies... and ever did they come. Though our armies stood strong... and many of our foes bent the knee... more always came... “...And so we sought for allies... none mortal... none of our kind... but beyond the veil... Oblivion... We’d sought to bind the servants of Dagon to us... mighty magics we’d worked... a great portal opened... and then... in a moment, a twinkling... our great works... utterly undone. “Dead... in our ignorance... in our pride... we’d sought to bind beings greater than us... and in death, it is we who are bound... “Only I am left... and you... save us, champion... you must... give us peace once more...” With that, he gave me my task; to kill the “Valkynaz Sharkalz”--whatever that means. A name? A title? It’s all Nedic to me. But this person will have a gem on them, the “Heart of Kerrach,” which I’ll need to bring back to the Ghost here. In addition, I’ll need to restore their Sacred Well, and restore the statue of “El-Ataran,” both necessary to give the Ghost the juice necessary to undo the curse binding his people. I considered this request... the Ayleids were not nice people, from what I knew. They were, themselves, slavers. And the people of Kerrach seemed the worst of the lot. Even other Ayleids feared and hated them. But now, they were the slaves. And... I just can’t abide that. Isn’t a few thousands years in bondage penance enough for their crimes? I have the chance to free them, and I promise, right here, that I’ll never leave a slave oppressed if I can help it! So, I took the case! After all of that talking, I was admittedly quite nackered. Thankfully, there was a bedroll within the room, so Ruin and I were able to tuck in and get some rest before we continued our dive into the depths of this place. I slept fine, but I imagine all of the screaming from night-terrors about my old master’s Ancestral Ghost probably kept Ruin up.

A toppled pillar gave Ruin and I access to a walkway, which led to this scenic vista. The area was large and wide open, but that just made it all the easier to snipe the Dremora down from a distance. There were a lot of them, however, so sniping them down one by one took quite a while. Thankfully the lava lit this place up like an Evening Star tree, easily letting me spot my foes and clip them down. Once the road ahead of us was clear, we descended into the solid paths between the lava flows. In the center was an Ayleid Well, and I assume it was the Sacred Well the Ghost told me about. There were doors to the left and right, and ever sinestral, I chose the left-hand path. Next time I write, we will learn what lies beyond that door.