The Profound Mark, the Elder Scrolls Story

When all Hope is Demolished
Merciful Nevermore.

When all Hope is Demolished


STDAR 4 MINORTEM Capital, 4E250
Knight of Mercy Corellius, duly noted under the digital house,

Auroran Vexed and STDAR Approved
Sapiotemporal Delivery: souljewel count: 0001-34-43-02-XXX



A new animus has apparated. Corellius.
Our plane(t) of STDAR, of the arm, of the eight, of the Aurbis.
The Digitals register the Merciful Knight.
He is accepted into STDAR, everlast his peace.


He follows Precepts one, two, three, four,
as well as the additional twelve, albeit unknowingly.
Ones vote shall have been to claim through Lattice.
Let it be submitted by memospore, read or not by STDAR.




"Tsapoliton!!!" I (Corellius) screamed. I was just, simply, impaled by the masterful tents of the Imperials. Always dropped my left shoulder too low. Should've trained with a shield. Ah well, live by the Precepts, die by the Precepts.


I am a man of the Colovian Empire, I am a Knight of Mercy. I am a man of Skingrad, I am a Knight of Stendarr.


This is my afterlife. For as long as it lasts, as they have informed me, without taking time. This is quite expected, and I shall grow accustomed to time as something flippant. Here in Aetherius. By damn Dagon, I'm dead. With time-outside-time, they call it, I can reflect on the damnable events that led us, me, here. It is much of what I do. They say most who die remain anchored to Mundus for many centuries, it varies. Hopefully not too much so, as I do discorporate ghosts myself. Or I had.

The Marked, old friends, stuff of heroes and prophecy and foolhardy failure. Their spies found absolute proof of vampirism in the residence of the Praefect, in the New Julianos District. She had an illusionary wall they told me! What was most riddling was a logbook of financial transactions, including money sent to Dusk, in Alinor, money sent to the Third Legion (which we believed at the time was vampire-controlled), and to an expedition near Bruma to go to "APSR" and retrieve something.

Taking this proof to the second trial date, Ciri detailed the rules of the <u>Necromantic Ban of 3E431</u>. I believe she said it would sentence any undead to death that was unwilling, or harming others, as well as render null and marked for annihilation any group including or being led by undead. This was around the time of Mannimarco, cursed be his name. After Ninian's bumbling and the witness of the house's testimony, she fled. Almost captured by Ninian and Cal, she simply threw them off and ran. Stendarr's might… your might… brought her will down and she sprinted away fearfully, unintelligibly and animalistic, where Cal could simply hack her down.

Nexius was free. His family safely sent to Cheydinhal. We had won!

Cal would've said, it was until we trusted someone. I wonder what afterlife she has. If she has one, Altmer dislike that sort of thing.

Vel woke us in the night, speaking of the rumors of corruption in the Third Legion, and his proof of this. He believed, he said, that the Third Legate was the mastermind behind all of this. He was our friend, he fought with the foolish Marked in the Arena! Cal was, at that point, believing his every word! I was distrusting… but possibly because of jealousy. I regret this decision to stay behind. I regret much, I see, now as I look back on my time on Nirn.


I am a man of the Empire, I am a Knight. I am a man of the Empire, I am a Knight.


I can see it now. They traveled six hours by the horses who mastered sprinting, black horses of Cheydinhal. They did not question where they were acquired. En route, they planned to split up to meet with each of the groups of Cohorts, approximately one per major city, and more troops from the wilderness and small cities. 

Del went to the western group, with the belief this one was the least likely to be corrupt, and convinced them and gained their total trust. He had them plan to go to the shrine of Bal, the meeting place for Legate Acquius' plan, and have a civilized meeting
with the other groups, to discuss the Vampyrum.

Nexius and Ninian went to the Southern group, possibly the most dangerous, and convinced of their intentions through absolute proof of the Praefect's corruption. Their plan was to meet the other Cohorts and demand with a show of arms, all Vampires be brought forward.

Vel and Cal gained the Northern group's trust through immediately recognizing vampires in the midst of the Centurions. Or they thought they did. Regardless, with the trust they had acquired, Cal planned with the Seventh Tribune that they were to use most of
their battlemages' magicka to muffle the entire two-and-half Cohorts, and surround all other groups at the most opportune moment. Incapacitate them all and discover who is undead.

It brings tears to my eyes on how horrifically it ended.


I am a man, I am a Knight. I am a man, I am a Knight.


The Western group stood on the hill, around the Dagon shrine waiting. Legate Acquius' plan was to gather all his Legion, his trusted friends for many years, and take White-Gold, declaring Martial law as his battlemages detects all undead in the entire city. The Southern group arrived, demanded all Vampires be brought out, and when none stepped forward, they charged. The Third Legion began war with itself, its own brothers.

The Northern group, once all sides were committed, surrounded, perfectly, all the battlefield, tents structured and spears sharpened. They would have slaughtered the other sides, if not for the battlemages of the other two groups, summoning Frost Atronachs enough to knock aside tents like toys, and one (or possibly Bal) even calling an absolute thunderstorm, sudden lightning arcing down every few seconds. Del seemed to cast a pitch black darkness over eighty percent of the battlefield, and the chaos of it becoming a fearful war against the darkness caused possibly more death, possibly more time to delay.

I can only observe the spore, as the Marked finally gathered at the Dagon shrine, Cal trying to destroy it, Nexius using the Holy Word of Mara to make absolutely afraid all undead within sixty meters.

Not a man fled.


There were no vampires in the Third Legion; The Legate was truthful. 


As their hearts sunk lower than the Dwemer fortresses, they began screaming, but their screams were less than whispers to the carnage and devastation of the display. Molag Bal's eyes glowed freakishly, seemingly smirking. From the Northwest came the pure light banner, larger than the oak trees of the Great Forest, of the Knights of the Dragon. Their leader, Sir Kael, rode forward with pure white sunlight, dripping off his dual scimitars. He took control in many ways, of the Marked at least, and together they formed a semblance of a remedy.

Cal tried to get those closest to form up, and through her commanding skills and proof of lack of Vampirism, she commanded a few tents, and fought to a battlemage. The battlemage sent flare after flare, displacing to a quick meeting of all the battlemages. These are the Cyrodiils, after all; they are the most coordinated fighting force. After all the chaos, they managed to shoot white flares, agreeing finally, and the fighting ceased.

Wailing, crying, moaning. They had murdered their brothers, their family, their leaders. The Mark of the Profound shall <s>IAOSJOFINASDGOUILGSTDAR DENIED, SCROLLS MNEMOLII [NUMINIT].</s> show the way through the end.


I.. am a man, I am a Knight. I am a man, I am a Knight!


-ey returned to White-Gold. Vel came to us and gave us the information that High Chancellor Motierre was to be assassinated by the Vampyum. They could not turn him, for whatever reason. In his hideout, inside the wall, he watched with hawk eyes. Jeweled,
enchanted arrows that could pierce through all magic were notched, and he gave one to Ninian. Sir Kael, Nexius, Del, went to to the guards. Sir Kael used his silver tongue which none knew he possessed, and appealed to the guards' sense of honor, obligation to Hammerfell, reliance on the Knights of the Dragon. One guard's son read fables of the old Knights of the Dragon.

They went to the guards of Motierre, had them raise protection as the speech could not be canceled. The speech would change the Empire. They put up marble walls, magical barriers, barriers, everything. Lord High Chancellor Motierre spoke of the finality of the discussion on the Empire's government. There has been no Emperor for 49 years, and now there will be never be another one. A permenant Republic, he said, seconds before death. As he said this, all Elder Scrolls in the Imperial City disappeared, whether they've left the world or simple the city is unknown. About one in a thousand citizens reported flames, screaming, the sky opening up in yellow lighting shards, but the others only heard some concerned yelling from inside White-Gold. The truth is subjective, the matter simple; all Scrolls have left mortality. Akatosh is displeased. (If the followers of the Eight-plus-One Divines are explaining it).

The strike which pain us most are those which come from those trusted, our allies, our friends.

Vel loosed his arrow, striking Motierre in the heart, a second in his turned temple. It pierced all magic, an artifact. Jumping from the wall with another artifact, his boots which let him land safely, and sprinting away with speed and stamina we could understand
now. He was Vampyrum. His unnatural strength, his agility and fitness despite his age of three-hundred-fifty. Sir Kael does not wear armor and as a Redguard, he is both obstinate and determined. He sprinted after this Dunmer for thirty minutes, and nearing the wall
he tore the boots from Vel, with help from a lightning speed Ninian, using a scroll. They did catch the traitor, and would have killed him, if not for the corruption of the Empire.

Guards came, at the call of an old man being assaulted, and threw each party to the ground. Vel was taken away by a Councilor, most likely a Vampiric one. I could not refuse to aid those I have the power to, as the first Precept. I murdered the commander, and his
hefty gold purse from being paid off hit the ground. Cal stayed with me, and I am thankful neither of us were alone in our final hour. We died to allow the Marked to escape.. their destiny is not mine. 

Their destiny is greatness, mine was not.


I.. was a man, I was a Knight… I was a man, I was a Knight.


Perhaps it is best to let go, after all, my dear friends and allies can not benefit from my assistance. I can not save anymore, I can not heal. The honors I experienced here are beautiful, but it is time to rest. 


They say I have arrived at this belief much, much faster. The Digitals. They cannot be understood.


I was a man, I was a Knight.

Mundus is behind me, Calesse Thilinus a beautiful, commandeering, memory.


I was on Nirn, I protected the weak.

Peace now, they say, dreaming and love everlasting.


I existed, I will always have.

Forever happiness, the Digitals shall record, the kalpa always a memory. 


I, always remembered.

And I was.. someone. Someone good? Was I.. something..?


Who was I? Who-





(if you don't understand, it was him on Stendarr's plane of Aetherius, passing on into final rest and his life force forever passing)





<Vel and his report to the <u>Pentius Oculatus</u>, although it is simply given to a member of the Vampyrum and burned>


The Ashlanders of old exiled me. Blacklight exiled me. The Red Year. Death of my kind. The last few lost to the world. Lharzae. Her memory paints her as my wife, though I do not possess the ability to remember her, as living I could. Azura might give me the memory, but I would not ask. I could not. I dare not…

I killed her. I speak of this in a sense. She died by my hand. My failure. The Cyrodilic Vampyrum, in Blacklight as Ambassadors. They infected her when I was lax in my protection, my wards, and my love. She lost her life, to unlife.

She took to the life well, to my horror. Serving on the Elder Council for many years, before I attempted her life. Her eyes. It haunts me, it terrified me at night more than Azura's and Mephala's tortures. She looked at me as my dagger tore her heart, the betrayal.

I suppose it did not matter. To Azura she was dead long ago, even her soul. I do not know if this is true but I am not a Mabrigash or a Wise-Woman of Ashigan. She did not die again. Instead she infected me, but in her rage she did not as an equal, as her lover, but as a thrall.


I serve the Vampyrum. I am undeath.






"Ciri, this channel is for life or damnation, this better not be to tell me about the Tang Mo you just saved from years of torture and had tea with."

"Obviously, half-as-clever radish. The Marked. They're free with a simple legal trick any practitioner could do, but they're deathly unmotivated. Hell, Cal died. You said Rizita was stripped of destiny too. We need these Heroes smart, quick, agile. And not forcing our Legions to fight themselves, by Syracuse!"

"They didn't… and your Legions, you know I'm through with New Cyrod."

"Did you expect better? They need to know, without it they're going to repeat such disastrous blunders"

"No, Ciri, they cannot. You know this."

"Give me something, or I have no damn reason to care for you and your underhanded deals. To Coldharbour with your games. If you were on the Elder Council I'd be fighting your every move."

"Fine Seriatus. I'll have Dravis Indoril go to you, bearing a dreaming-ring for the Telvanni's father. A copy of the plans to rebuild Mournhold with the Redoran's money. Proof of Na-Rek's death and the slow routing of his army. Xarxces, they've fought to save Black Marsh, freed all of Morrowind, saved every soul in Cheydinhal. Show them their trail of lights as they look towards the darkness"

"Will you ever stop being enigmatic and eccentric? My uncle wasn't this theatrical, and he worshiped Sheogorath!"

"They need to see that being a hero of the lower-case is not being a light in the darkness surrounding one's self, but being the light for those who do not possess the candle to light the darkness surrounding them. Not.. abandoning those who depend on them… I apologize Ciri, I'll return in a few hours, I wish to see Tamriel from White-Gold. Take heed of my own advice."

"You're a hero Mov, don't fail to see that, at least"
"Moviris ******* Sadras, you know how much magicka potions I have to pay for to commit this spore?? Wadarsho doesn't want to do this. Yet you ignore me in my own nation."
"Go be dramatic. I have stables to clean, to save a good knight from the block."








The Profound Marked

Calesse Thilinus, Deceased.

Nexius Telvanni

Delysaurus Hawking Essendale III

Sir Kael

Ninian Redoran


comment or I'll stop writing these :(

Gage wuz her. honestly Logan, these are really awesome, I enjoy reading them.

The Arena, The Trial
If the world ever was just...

The Arena, The Trial




The Profound Marked

Ninian Redoran

Nexius Telvanni

Delysaurus Essendale Hawking III





<report filed to REDACTED, Evening Star 13th, 4E 250>


I am Vel. Dunmer. Ashlander. Exile.


Peradventure the last Ashlander, the last of the old ways, the last of the Velothi culture. The days of Morrowind are over. So be it. 

I scribe this to inform of why I do what I do. Prophet Veloth taught the Chimer many things. He foretold the coming of GHARTOK PADHOME. He brought us to Resadyn. He taught us honor and life away from the lying, coveting, charlatans of Aldmer.

It was this honor that led me to the Marked. I care not what this mark means. Yet still it begets more danger than many a fiend on old Vvardenfell. Shown as such when the small, blond nord, swinging an axe and bellowing a scream of "freeing the soul of all true power." The girl. In the Tong. She stopped his swing, I stopped his breathing. I would have went on, I had shown, but they desired my company.

And so I joined them. I am sorry.

In the night, a man with a blade from a Daedric Realm went upon Nexius, cutting his face. I do not possess the knowledge of why. Perhaps the nymics, perhaps Dagon simply wishes death upon the Marked. I do not wish this end upon them, but I believe it will come to pass. Such is the fate of all things, decreed as and of Mephala.

When the Marked ventured into the Grand Arena, I was required. They tell me I saved the life of Cal, Ninian. I do not believe it as so. Their lives continue, perhaps destiny, perhaps luck, but I cannot accept their gratitude. Ninian's aim with her dagger is unholy, astounding, and a skill that should be noted. In case we ever do fight.

After the trial, I told Cal of how I tracked the Legate of the Third Legion. How we have discovered his vampirism. We plan to force his Legion to fight itself, while we kill him. Kill corruption, kill resistance. Save the city, as the idealist would say. I do not trust her. I do not trust Cal. I do not trust the Marked. There are too many rumors and vile secrets in the city of Gilded Towers.


The ending of the words is BETRAYAL.




<Knight of Mercy Corellius' personal log, as required of all Knights of Stendarr and Vigilants of Stendarr, as to assist those who find your corpse if you shall fail in your quest>


On Evening Star 8th, they found me again. In the market of all places! Three times gives us luck, perhaps we shall uncover the mysteries of this city. They spoke of many issues, such as Nexius' family being tried for treason, a disappearing Redguard woman who could be dead, and the Mark itself. We stayed in a beautiful Inn that night and fended off a Daedra worshipper.

On Evening Star 9th, Nexius was imprisoned by the Gold Guard, although we would not know of this for a few days. Del met with the Oculatus, I believe, and he did not seem pleased with it. Cal, Ninian, and I went on a quest to find the missing Redguard woman named Ri Taka. It was a strange mission, as we found her drunk and partying in the Elven Gardens. She was a beggar, therefore her rich jewelry and clothing immediately made us suspicious. Cal noticed the miniscule details of vampire bites on her neck, and a broken potion bottle among the broken beer bottles. Ninian, an alchemist, verified it as Cure Disease. She had given her blood to a vampire for a thousand gold. Cal immediately moved to defend them, which I respect, yet as we later realized, even these benign vampires have dark aspirations.

On Evening Star 10th, the Marked fought in the Arena. Foolishly. They fought fallen Blades, purposeless without the Dragonborn. Pity he died, I heard he despised undead. I gathered information on vampires and learned of a strain of Cyrodillic vampires, who made a deal with Clavicus Vile. They do not look any different than men, except when starving. Silver even has little effect on them. Very grim tidings.

On Evening Star 11th, we finally heard of the trial of Nexius, and his family. Naturally we all went and allied with him, fighting the Praefect Varexia and her court. It was true, Morrowind has been greatuly abused, and both nations prospered greatly, when separate. I attested to Nexius' pure heart and character. I pulled my holy sword and thrust it into the Imperial seal, proclaiming that if a man with as good intentions as Nexius Telvanni is guilty, then I will put up my blade. The Empire would not be worth fighting for, the Daedra will have corrupted the hearts of too many. This was in fact, denied, as treason was treason, regardless of the validity of our statements regarding the mistreatment of Dunmer. Nexius did kidnap Queen Lorelei with the other rebels. The Mark aside. Ciri sent by Moviris, managed to manipulate the corrupt council into a stalemate. Such an unfair trial, Nexius being guilty until proven innocent, was not legal in the Empire, not for a proper citizen. As such, they would have to proclaim to the people that not every citizen gets a fair trial, causing much unrest, or give Nexius temporary freedom and time to build a real argument. I believe it was rather impressive, the way she could use words to save lives rather than a blade.



<Ciri's account>

"No, Movs, I'm busy saving a cat from the gallows" Ciri had already taken two contracts this month, Moviris was asking a lot. How many people could he possibly need saving? Was this even ethical?

"Looks like another innocent will die, as you're the only contact I have left in the Empire. They sort of distaste me now. Hope they get over it, dark clouds arising and all."

Ciri knew Moviris was manipulating her, she had grown accustomed to his games, somewhat. Yet, he was right, few men or mer in The Third Empire care to step in the way of the Elder Council. Even to save a life. "Did they steal a noble's daughter? Assassinate the wrong man? Or does the damned Council simply wish to extend its indomitable arm again, and crush and who would oppose them in their ranks?"

There was a sigh from Moviris, rather distorted too, as even the Telvanni could not relay messages for long, over such distances, without interruptions. "About that. You see, they're good people at heart, and they truly care about the downtrodden, having each been one themselves. I, for one, attest to their devotion to freedom, same as you. Same as Jorviel. "

"Low, Sadras. Salting wounds that have already healed. I did notice you avoided the question, those tricks won't get you far in a true nobleman's court".

"Very well. They may or may not have been forcibly named in a prophecy as the potential destroyers of the world. And then started a cold war in Morrowind, kidnapped the queen, and sent me to Mournhold here to treat for secession" He paused. "They saved a man, helped him start a brewery."

"Dibella's ass, Movs. Throw me in Red Mountain, it'll be quicker."

Despite her reluctance, Moviris knew, of course, that she would help the Marked. Ciri was noble, defending those who could not do so themselves. Ever since Jorviel, and her parents. He admires that in her. Almost wishes he was that dependable. Never could sit still long enough to keep those he loved safe.

Nonetheless, Moviris went to the Hortator, as obviously he needs assistance in leading, and Ciri went to the Marked. 




<note sent to The Marked by way of dark elf child, with boots of speed>



Final notes, a collection of new rumors:


Loreaine is a new god, in the Altmer pantheon. 

Tee-Len's missing Redguard friend, later turned out to be willingly missing.

Vampires in Cyrodiil.

Nords after the party?

Mehrunes Razor used by a Dagon agent on Nexius?

AKATOSH EXTREMELY DISPLEASED. He abandoned the Snow Elves as Auri-El, who became the Falmer. He abandoned the Ayleids, who became extinct. He may abandon the Empire next, after all, his chosen line of Emperors has been destroyed.

Battlespire's trans-liminal bridges "upset"

The Apprentice's tomb has been located and is being delved

A weapon called the Broadsword of the Moon Reiver is being searched for, by the Dagon agent.

Knights of Stendarr in town.

Strange dealings between the Third Legate and some governing members of the Empire. Possibly more.

The Azura's Star was sought by Na-Rek for whatever reason, and now it lies broken in the old Tribunal Temple in Mournhold. Probably.


Comment what you think ties all these rumors (or at least the majority) together. Seriously you get xp if you do.

The Third Battle of Cheydinhal
Fighting on the home-front.

The Third Battle of Cheydinhal




The Profound Marked

Nexius Telvanni

Delysaurus Essendale Hawking III



Ninian Redoran






<Imperial Report to Seventh Centurion Davis Avira, Second Cohort, Third Legion>


29th of Sun's Dusk, 4E 250

          Seventh Centurion, Sir,

          My report of the Third Battle of Cheydinhal may perhaps conflict with those of others in our Century. You see, Sir, while various Daedra began operating, my tent was around the river bridge. As my tent collectively attests, the Daedra seemed disoriented and even confused at appearing here. This correlates with many other attacks throughout Cyrodiil, and similar to those in the other northwestern provinces. We saw a unique Daedroth, one possessing arachnid traits, though with seven heads all frothing at the mouth with lava, our Decanus believed it was from The Deadlands, as lava and horrific things tend to come from there. Others might say other planes, but I have no opinion, as I have no input on this matter. What I saw was a Daedra not in control of it's power, who began burning down the river bridge. After we made a tactical withdrawal, we began fighting the multitude of Scamps, and then we saw them. 

         Coming over the barren trees, through the bitter cold, came was appeared to be a black, reflective Silt Strider. My tent faltered and admittedly, we made some mistakes, but our Shadow Immune, my Second Decanus, and I, survived the multitude of scamps, at least a dozen. We marched forward, coming to this new threat of whatever was atop the Strider. We believed it was malevolent. 

          We were wrong.


          From a rope ladder, came a duelist with a Dwemer sword, who charged into the Telvanni manor desperate to find and save someone, an argonian with plated mail, a Breton spellsword, and a Dunmer archer. They searched the manor and then emerged at the perfect time, more exemplary tactics from my Second Decanus, and we surrounded a Clannefear, beating it down and down until the spellsword hacked off a rear leg, and its blood loss forced it's heart to beat no more. My Second Decanus was lying unconscious, therefore our Shadow Legionaire remained to heal his wounds, and those spontaneous heroes and I charged towards the Chapel to Arkay.

          In my old school in Leyawiin, they taught us briefly of the Daedric Princes, mainly their spheres and how to recognize the dealings of each… and to run away from them. A Daedroth is normally in service to Molag Bal, the Prince of (this is variable, depends who you ask) Domination. Bal despises Arkay, the Knights of Stendarr preach that he created the powerful vampires, and their lords, to spite Arkay, who believes all things have their time, and should live, and die. Therefore, his servant, the terrible, terrible Daedroth, was besieging the Chapel towards Arkay. I was prepared to leave such an impossible fight, multiple Legionnaires lied dead, incinerated, at it's feet. Yet in spite of this, these inexplicable heroes charged the damn beast.

          I thought it was the end, when it turned, and let loose a roar that shook us to our very souls. One of this group even turned and ran, understandably, as this roar was coupled with what I can only describe as a torrent of lava, which melted my tower shield, and crippled many of us. I was truthfully ready to run, fight a battle which was not absolutely hopeless, even though you and most of the Century were inside the Chapel. Still, they fought on. The argonian let loose a cry, and charged the beast, and as the spellsword gathered up energy, he let loose a green tinted blast that even knocked the foul thing down. I, with a quick prayer to Stendarr, followed them.

          We were fighting a losing battle, I tried to shield the argonian guerilla knight with my remains of a shield, but he didn't know how to fight to take advantage of this. Fortuitously, a woman, you probably had seen her, came sprinting extremely fast, summoning a bloody Daedric Chestplate and Shortsword, and she knew how to fight. Together, her and I felled the great beast, it's every action negated by our onslaught. It was only after this that I recognized her Dominion armor, but I did not care much, as the war was of our ancestors, and any savior of our town is a ally of mine.


          I did not see them much the rest of the rebuilding process, but I heard that they had left, two days since the battle. I do not agree with those in the Seventh Century that this group should be reported to the Pentius Oculatus (even though it is likely they already know and have a profile on them, they are spies), as even though there was seeming a Dominion soldier in their group, to Cheydinhal, they are heroes.

          That is all, sir.


          Long live The Empire!


                    -Respectfully, Rykus Darfora, Imperial Private, Seventh Century, Third Legion







<acquired by Del at Harm's Folly as The Profound Marked venture towards the Imperial City, from a Pentius Oculatus secure stash of recent reports and findings, which are used to spread word to all agents, undercover or sleeping, he checked after hearing how Nexius' family has been arrested on the charges of treason and plotting against the Elder Council, which has become another focus of the party>

The Dinner Party
Or rather, "Shit goes sideways."

The Dinner Party


Moviris' Gift List



The group known as the Marked.

Nexius Telvanni

Delysaurius Essendale Hawking III



Ninian Redoran



<Message left upon a beautiful, soft-brown leafed Darosa tree, with curving branches of darker brown, healthy leaves.>

31st of Frostfall, 4E 250


Now Firian,

I didn't know Ninian would be under the table. That was unexpected. Much of it was, pulled the Ethos Blade after all. I digress; the plan.

After  Jancella had me buy a Guar for her, she rode off to the Telvanni, had forgotten she was trained with them. I asked those Marked boys what their plan was, and after much deliberation, they came up with nothing. So I went to a party at the Olde Moor Estate. Obviously this was to speak to Lorelei before the Marked got to her, probably frightening her. She was always rather timid back in north High Rock, in our trading days, as you'd remember.

Digression again! First Centurion Varn Aquius escorted them in, late, but the rest of us happened to fail to notice. I'm a hit at parties, kept everyone's attention and their smiles bright. They seemed preoccupied and didn't speak much, but Lorelei and I kept the table talking.

Other nobles there:
Vix Carengar – Argonian with some rather ill-fitting clothes, decorative Malachite gloves and boots, and a badge for the status of Warden. Black Marsh Emissary. If he was a spy, he was a bad one. He was adorable though, you'd have laughed. Ah that laugh.
Casimir Soro – Total manipulator, he was boisterous and brutish. Commanded the East Empire Company in Morrowind. He was rather good at commercial pursuits, but not fit to lead the trade.
Sulla Darn – Spy, total spy. Pegged him the second I greeted him. The aware eyes and the laugh slightly too loud. He was a kid too, shame.
Daia Vanos - Ah. Daia. Thank Azura's ass she doesnt recognize me. That spear would've been in my face instead. She's changed, l'veh. 

We talked of Ninian quite a bit. (rather gauche that she was under the table..)
Del brought up the (remains of, in my opinion) Third Empire, before the meal was cleared away, a gold bowl and an Ancestor Pyramid brought in, I didn't eat of course, just appeared to. Learnt that in High Rock with both of you, and that fetcher of a king.  I'll just quote her on this, she said it sufficiently ominously. 

"Now, Ninian, I'm sure you'll appreciate this… as a native I mean. (Referring to Ninian being with the Morag Tong, and loving poison) You see, I communed with my grandfather, Helseth here. He showed me how to make a poison just right for my purposes, rather tasteful. and its antidote. No spell can stop it, only the antidote in that bowl of Sujamma. Quite the death, from what I'm told. Eager to see it."
Changed. Like I said..

Vix softly interjected with his soft, yet gravelly voice "Have you poisoned someone at this table, sera?"

"Very good, Vix! Though it would be easier to tell you who I have not poisoned. I have not poisoned any who are truly loyal to me, not coming here under false names, plotting a religious uprising, or selling secrets. I have not poisoned anyone who is not spying for the house of Telvanni, the house of Redoran, the house of Indoril, the house of Dres."
Everyone was stunned, not a single word between them all. Strange of them, actually. Did they know as well?
She poisoned the cups and cutlery, she claimed, not the food. Even I was poisoned. Most were frozen in fear, Vix was just shaking. Guards were now around the perimeter of the wall. Even Nexius, the only one who could be considered loyal, was scared. Could he trust Lorelei to not make a mistake, rather, to care if she did?
"The poison acts quickly" she spoke melodically as she checked a Telvanni Time-Teller (I do love those things, would collect them) "One minute now, these are the last words you'll hear, if disloyal to me: Take the antidote and live."

Apparently they're all completely fine with dying after gorging themselves, the distant kids. With seconds to spare, Sulla Darn, the Cheydinhal spy, leapt up and drank with his hands, panting and screaming 'she-witch' at Lorelei. She won, the poison hidden instead in the bowl which served as judge, jury, and a terribly grotesque executioner, was somewhat of a masterpiece. If you like that sort of thing. I believe its messy and needlessly destructive. 

Then that inexplicable mark. Of the two guards left in the room, one seemed to be suspicious and listening to rumors. Upon seeing the Mark of the Profound on Nexius, he charged! He was just a boy, not even in the Legion, I believe. Unless they let in boys now. Cue the disaster worse than Esbern at Falinesti. And Esbern burned down the forest. (This could have also been just an excuse to attack, planned by Lorelei?? Their weapons were, in fact, already brandished. Weer was making thinly-veiled threats.

Shortly, we had a tent or two of professional Imperial Legionaires ready to charge in the Dining Hub, a Breton Assassin named Ferrus Brutush, and a Knight of Stendarr or two messing things up. The queen was out due to Del's scroll spell, but we could not be between a worse Rock and Wereboar. The battlemage was shredding those who went outside, and I even was surrounded by three of them.

Cal, Del, Weer, Daia, injured direly. Cal and Del were barely standing, one had their stomach split open. Glad Nex' has some Resto', or those guts would've been the new dinner. Maybe for you. Teasing.

The Assassin died and Weer, seconds from death, managed to step on a Distortion Rune of mine. (Remember Wadarsha? Those old days.) Meaning I had to reveal my aptitude for spells to them, first misstep. My letter to a Shellfolk who Cal loved hopefully built some trust, and finally Ninian's gift came and saved us… Her Silt Strider, Genesis. 


They always freaked you out, Firi, but b'vek theyre unparelleled as mounts. 


Genesis is ebony-plated.




1st/2nd of Sun's Dusk, 4E 250


After 'Terrible Mess, the first,' came something worse. Much worse.


If you've forgotten the Seditioner's Amulet, the Dragonborn's soul is inside it.

And it's Boethiah's artifact.

A terrible, terrible hideout picked by Del, the s'wit, allowed the worshippers to get such a drop on us that we had barely seconds to ready ourselves before being shunted to Attribution's Share for Gauntlet Day.

Nexius, realizing before all of us what was happening, threw the white hot amulet to the ground and repeated pounded it with his Elder Scroll. I used old Ethos on the Amulet, not even it could penetrate the barrier. He rose and erupted with fury towards Ninian, vociferating all the woes which have been brought on by her missteps. "I SHOULD DAMN YOU TO THE VOID FOR ALL YOU'VE DONE, THANK AKATOSH MY NIECE IS NOT HERE TO WITNESS THIS OR THERE WOULD BE NOT A FRAGMENT OF YOUR ENERGY LEFT ON THIS DIMENSION OF REALITY"

As my mentor used to say: "Beware the anger of a patient man." He didn't come up with the saying but he claimed to.

And Oblivion, hope no one touches Nexius' niece.


It sort of went like this:

A deep very slightly female voice echoed into our souls, deathly purple light slowly enveloping the whole burial chambers. "This mortal must be inconceivable unintelligent. I imprint that Amulet, fool! It belongs to my sweet Snake Mount (another name for Attribution's Share). You will now perish in our exultant arena, in a glorious conflict for a god's favor… and the title of Boethiah's Champion!" 

The morpholiphic anchor, formed as and of the amulet, allowed our souls, our essences, our consciousnesses, and our equipment to be transferred. The world morphed like the rippling surface of water, and suddenly a violent crash of lightning blinded us. Our eyes adjusted to a new landscape. 


An Oblivion plane.


Active storm clouds, with at least three lightning flashes a second, and a larch volcano. The second was made to resemble Red Mountain, and outshine it (typical Daedra). It was continuously erupting infinitely hot lava. It displayed two forced battling for supremacy, and notice. Boethiah's World-Which-Is-Her.

An arena formed of rickety bridges and a cooled flowing lava floor was ready for us. Two damnable Dremora, and a dozen of the worshippers that brought us here. The latter always die first on Gauntlet day, I'm assuming.

The spindly, crouching, fifteen foot tall skeleton with a tail as long as he is tall was in an alcove far, far above. Cackling as its lungs and stomach undulated, they were visible, it shrieked "Skkkiiiiiiiirmish for my Prince's fffickle favvvvor, mortals! You have but fifteen seconds.." This was Hunger, a powerful servant of Boethiah.

The Imprint of Boethiah was around his back leg, the Amulet's Imprint. Cal, the only conjurer, figured it out and stripped all armor to climb her way to the top, bridge after bridge. Meanwhile, we all were fighting, one versus one, sometimes more, at a time. T'was rather confusing to explain without diagrams and I doubt those would transfer to Hircine's Grounds. If that is where you are. And not destroyed.

Back to the story. I had to fight a bloody, ferocious, demonic Dremora. I had to use something of yours, with the one trick you'd always loved and hated. Needed to save Lorelei, as she was next in the grouping for none but I, or Morrowind would never find any peace. If that is the right goal, like I'd know.

Nexius actually didn't die, or even fare badly. Less than a month ago he would've been repulsed at the sight of a sword, let alone combat. S'nir, although having not talked at all since before meeting the Altmer, climbed onto wooden bridges and was picking off every target that became available to hit. Sheared off a Boethiah worshippers leg.

Many, many died, Del even became a physical being inside of one of our Secession leaders, terrible mistake. Thankfully it was only our consciousness and souls there, their bodies are alive… but I'm watching them. Ninian also died, to Nymaril, who appeared for this Gauntlet Day. Cal managed, slightly heroically and self-sacrificing, to destroy the Imprint, and the ties to Boethiah on the Amulet (the quasi-bridge, or the Object-Without-World). Cal isn't as purely focused and selfish. Think she's got a soft heart, like Daia.


Don't tell them I said that.


We were shunted back, falling quickly into utter void, the world vibrating before falling into nothing. Before we slammed, rather unceremoniously, into the dirt and void salt crypt. Face-first for most of them. 


Those who lived were physically and mentally unchanged, although very hardened and possibly scarred from the experience. These included:
Daia (she took care of herself… against a Dremora)

Every last other person awoke screaming, panting. The way I understood their frantic explanation was that their world was a muted sepia, all sounds distant as if their head was filled with cotton, and then forced underwater. Their souls were taken, given to Boethiah. Del could fix the colors with a quick illusion, but the flashes of horrors (strongest in Ninian) were present every time they closed there eyes. Del also seemed the most affected, never dealt with Daedra before.

I watched them flinch every time they blinked. Poor sods.




3rd Sun's Dusk


Good news, after a day of recovery, the rebel cell reconvened and we decided we would acquire the signatures of every house and the Queen, then send emissaries to White-Gold. However distasteful we find this Empire, we need them to end this peacefully. Dravis Indoril, a man of Dres, and a Telvanni man commencing the Ritual of Motion, will go as a diplomatic party there within days, to discuss the true compromise to be made. Additionally, we forced the Queen to sign a document denying the Vigilants from Morrowind.

Last notes, small sects of those favoring the Empire's direct control, or the Tribunal's, have been forming cults in some cities. Unknown what this will become, but insofar they appear benevolent. 
The Marked are staying in the temple they helped save, and intend to for almost a month, letting Nexius heal their more grievous wounds. Been a tiring week. There is some talk of naming them saints. Most believe this rather ludicrous. Beautiful temple though, shrine to Azura. Their personal plans are more conflicted than a debate between Sotha Sil, Kagrenac, and Julianos. I'd give the Company to see that.

Known issues that could become their focus:
The Dragonborn, his soul, the Seditioner's Amulet. Although purified from Boethiah, her imprint destroyed, his soul is not freed. They do not allow me the amulet. This might not end the greatest.
Arcane University might have knowledge on the reclaiming of the group's souls
Cult of the Ancestor Moth might know more about the mark, and the truth behind the rumors attesting to the Mark begetting the end.
The Mane was reported dead, with much wailing and clipping of fur throughout Senchal, Torval, and more. Khajiiti things.
A hundred damned Vaermina cultists in the No-Quin-Al, but I doubt they wish to go up against Daedra again.
Daedra have not ceased occasionally apparating randomly throughout Skyrim, Morrowind (though we are more equipped to deal with them), Cyrodiil, Black Marsh. Conflicted reports of this happening, and not happening in the slightest, in Alinor. Eleswyr unknown, but The last three and a half provinces seem perfectly safe. Research required, damned if its more to do with the old destinies.
The Dominion slow-sieging Hammerfell, they seem to only be attacking the Forebears. Old animosity.
Na-Rek and his undead army in Black Marsh. Although events are already set in place for that.
There is no High-King of Skyrim.
There is no Emperor of White-Gold, in the Heartlands. Although this might not be a bad thing, factions have argued that the Alessian, Reman, Septim Emperors were there for the good of the people. The Amulet of Kings and the Dragonfires were rules by Akatosh. An Emperor is not required. Does Akatosh care of his people still? Will he abandon them like Auri-El had his Falmer? The predecessor and their Ayleids? It is true that the Akatosh-worshipping priests are slightly more reclusive. Speculations only, of course.
Also, the Akaviri on the Telvanni Isles. Presumed they came here to see the Dragonborn, another reason he could've been waiting to fight for White-Gold. Might be trouble.

We drafted up a treaty, but there are bound to be changes, by the Reclamation church, and the Elder Council. Hopefully better days incoming for Morrowind, although I know not if that would help the people. I promised myself I would do the same for your homeland as well, l'veh. I suppose I have time. I am in my prime. I wish you a Hunt worthy of recognition, trophies to adorn a beautiful Graht-Asp home, like the one we had. 



                                                 - Moviris Sadras, mer of many 





Comment your characters opinion on what is TPM's foremost goal, using the list above or any others.

Ninian believes that the party needs to find more about the mark, but at this time she doesn't care about anything because she found gnesis and is happier than she has been her whole life.


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