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talldarkandroguesome · 2 years ago

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16th of Midyear, Fredas

This journey continues to be one of loss and failure. I am trying to hold onto every scrap of good news that I can, but I do not know how many more I can take in such close succession.

We fought out way through Euraxia’s soldiers. It was how we found the cavern entrance to the adeptorium. Just follow the moving things that glint in the sunlight like signal mirrors.

They must truly have no shame and no fear of discovery to be so bold and obvious. Luckily, they were spread out to keep guard and between Nettle and my ability to sneak up on them and the Houseguard to take out the others, it was not a particularly long process to make it up and into the cavern system.

And each time we rounded another of the beautiful caverns, teeming with desert plants taking refuge from the heat, we could find the proper passageway by simply heading where there were more guards.

As we went deeper we found the beautiful ancient achitecture. The grand statues of Khajiit heroes and legends of eras past.

We found also some of the innocent members of the adeptorium. None still alive. We were simply one step behind the attack. We were always too late.

Eventually, however, we did manage to run into one who was very much alive. Zamarak, an adept of the Desert Winds, who was trying to seal the passage into the holiest chambers and protect the Grand Adept, keeper of the lore and secrets of the Adeptorium.

We explained quickly why we had come and he immediately asked for our help. It was not a second too late, for the door began to come down.

Zamarak managed to catch hold of it and we all scrambled through as quickly as possible before he could hold it no longer. I tried hold it for him to get through and barely made any difference in keeping it aloft. It must have weighed a tonne or more.

It slammed down before he could do more than pull himself out of the way of it crushing him.

He told us to rush ahead and protect the Grand Adept, we hurried into the large chamber, partially floored from what must have been an underground stream. We hurried towards the door into the chamber Zamarak had described as the Grand Adepts, but we were blocked.

A made in Euraxia’s colors stood in front of the door and launched waves of electricity towards the water and bolt of lightning towards the armor of our guards. She told us that we had failed, she had the Grand Adepts secrets, pulled from her before she had killed her.

But wasting your attention in a battle is a risky move. Luckily the guards were agile enough to get out of the water and out of the way of the mage’s attacks. Nettle and I teleported around her and carved a couple of deep blows, slowing her down. And it was not long before she was to her knees. She spat her curses as Nettle drove a sword into her neck.

And then we watched, as the mage, her spirit horrified, was pulled from her body and away, her ghost screaming, begging for mercy.

Then we sat in stunned silence for a moment. There was nothing to protect. We were too late. And the mage had seemed to get what was coming to her.

When we were finally able to go through the door, the result was no less shocking. The body of the Grand Adept lay cold upon the center of the chamber floor. He hair was soaked in her own blood, pooling on the brightly colored carpet.

I thought of the Clanmother. Of the secrets of a place and a people that were only fully known by one person until they were able to pass them on. Not in books, for that knowledge was too important to be so accessible, but by word and route memorization alone. That library of knowledge, all snuffed out like a candle before the boot of a tyrant.

Nearby, the spirit of the mage who had killed her was being bound in spiritual chains before our eyes. I glared at her as she struggled and begged for help. It felt like divine justice before our eyes.

I approached her and asked what had led her to such a state. She said it was Zumog Phoom, the Orsimer who had Sir Cadwell’s floating, reanimated head. That he had lied to say he was putting a blessing of protection upon them, but that it was a spell to claim her soul instead. She pleaded for me to break the curse.

There was a part of me that wished so bad to bask in her misfortune. You commit acts of cruelty, they are bound to come back and bite you in the ankle. And yet, I could not give Zumog Phoom any praise for his work. Necromancy is a disgusting practice! Forcing the dead back without their permission to do your bidding. It was revolting. And yet, I thought this mage deserved some suffering in her death.

Still, I told her that I would try and help her if she told us what her goal in coming here and gaining the Grand Adept’s secrets were. And she had no hesitation in telling us that she had gotten the location of the Betrayer’s dismembered body. Even though it was a difficult task to bring down the Grand Adept.

As soon as the secret was from her lips, fetching Zumog Phoom appeared in one of his bloody projections, gloated that he was able to learn of the Betrayer’s body’s location and that soon Riverhold would fall and his undead champion restored to whole.

And then he was gone. Another failure. One that we then had to watch unfold before Zamarak. He was devastated as he ran to his mistress’ side and coddled, tears already falling down his face. But none of his promises of helping her would restore her to life. And once he came to see that he blamed himself. For being too slow. For failing.

I felt that keenly myself and I would have gone to him if we had not just met immediately before this tragedy unfolded.

After a couple minutes, he stood up and pulled himself together and asked what had happened. I explained it in as gentle terms as I could and gave the hand motions S’Fair had taught me to mimic tail gestures of sympathy. He took it well, for given value of well, considering how crushing it all must have been.

He opened up more after that and he agreed that the other adepts, few in number though they might be, would join our cause to avenge the death of their mistress as soon as the proper rites performed.

We were led out to where the other adepts had regrouped and were tending to the wounded and dying. The corpses of others were laid out in reverence for rites. They gave us suspicious looks, but let us go and I wished them luck.

Then we headed out of the Adeptorium and back into the baking heat of the night. I immediately missed the coolness of the protected space, but there was no way to go back inside and ask a favor from those who had lost so much.

And so we made camp a little ways away. Someplace hidden from aerial view of dragons, protected from nocturnal beasts.

And since then we have been hurrying northward, towards Riverhold. We draw close. By midday we should arrive.

I only hope that, this time, we are not too late.

#ESO #TES #RP #Dunmer #Elder Scrolls Online #The Elder Scrolls

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