Fates Ignored (Pt IV)

• Posted by Seeker Marik March 31, 2013 - 770 views

  3 Sun's Dusk, 3E 427

  My life in Sadrith Mora has been a comfortable routine. I am almost sad that I will have to see the cycle end soon.

  Awake at sunrise, breakfast in the Gateway, then a walk down to the Mages Guild at Wolverine Hall. I've gotten to know the mages there much better (Uleni and I will sometimes even share a laugh over the 'Gateway Haunting' I unknowingly helped her start), and can call some of them my friends. I'll spend my morning at the guild with my research. Most of my research at this stage requires letters be delivered back and forth, so if I don't have any sources to cross-check or letters to send out, I'll help Skink-in-Tree's-Shade with some of his work. He always manages to stay up-to-date on current events, and in helping him I have learned a great deal about the art of diplomacy.

  Through him, I get to hear about the events in other guild halls: word of two new Journeyman in the Balmora hall; excited whispers of a new prodigy climbing quickly through the ranks on his own; Edwinna Elbert in Ald'ruhn making new headway into Dwemer research; increasing instances of cultist attacks on outlanders, even in the middle of broad daylight (this one of particular concern to us both); all of it eventually reaches his desk.

  In the early afternoon, I take my leave of the Guild hall and go for a short walk across the bridge, to Dirty Muriel's for lunch. The regular clientele may consist of thieves and liars, but they're outlander thieves and liars. In Sadrith Mora, that makes all the difference. Still, I always make sure I keep an eye on my gold when I'm in there.

  I spend an hour or two at the Cornerclub, where they catch me up on their own brand of news: a new Boss of their little social club (they always snicker after saying the word "club", but I'm still not sure why), worried rumors of something called the Camonna Tong worming its way into the Fighters Guild, and yet more worried talk about strange reports of violent insanity.

  After lunch, I go back to the Mages Guild for lecture. I've started teaching some basic Conjuration to make a little extra money on the side, after realizing that I'd already used up well over half of the funds I'd saved for the trip just living here. I don't often have too many students, but those that attend regularly are some of the brightest Associates and Apprentices I've ever met. Maybe all teachers think that, though.

  I leave Wolverine Hall before sunset, sometimes with company, often without. The main roads of Sadrith Mora are safe enough; even though the guards don't like outlanders, they don't tolerate crimes of any kind. My first weeks here, I would visit the markets before they closed; some of the merchants even let me peruse their wares. Now, though, with all the fear hanging thick in the air I head straight to the Gateway, even if I see some of the shops staying open later and later into the night.

  The Gateway is always crowded now. It's also where I hear some of the best, if unbelievable, tales.

  "I tell you, the Morag Tong has declared war on the Dark Brotherhood!"

  "Declared war? They've always hated each other."

  "No, you n'wah, it's not the Dark Brotherhood they've declared war on, it's the cult of Mehrunes Dagon they're knifing."

  "I hear the Temple's backing them. Cutting one of their Four Corners back down to size or something like that."

  "I heard that the Mages Guild is helping too!"

  I usually sit at a table in the corner, where I can hear everything. If some of the other Guild members are with me, we'll all listen and respin the elaborate yarns we've heard ("A cult in the Legion was planning to assassinate the Emperor, but they got busted up by a bunch of orcs in Gnisis!"). It's almost like being a little child again back in Skyrim, doing chores in my granddad's tavern. It doesn't matter whether the tales told are completely true, only that they're 'true enough'. It looks like some things can cross the span of continents.

  When it grows late, I'll retire to my room in the west turret. There, I'll read over some of my reports again, checking for errors, and then go to sleep.

  In the morning, the cycle repeats itself.

  As for my project: I've read "Ancestors and the Dunmer" cover to cover more times than I care to admit and have, with some help, compiled a list of cross-references. My research has been fairly well-received at the Arcane University, if the letters I am getting back from Master Wizard Caranya are any indication. I've avoided painting with too broad a brush thus far, especially out loud. On paper, and in a few of the private documents I've sent back to Cyrodiil, I feel more confident in calling Dunmer ancestor worship for what it is: culturally-accepted necromancy. As I have written Caranya, this might explain the Tribunal Temple's dislike for the Ashlander tribes, at least in part. The Temple still performs some of the ritual bindings that I believe started with the Velothi exodus, and may even have their origins in older Aldmeri religion, but their faith in their "living gods" has risen to precedence with one glorious exception:

  The Ghostfence.

  Built using the "consecrated" remains of fallen Dunmer warriors, they believe that it holds back the armies of their Devil, the monstrous Dagoth Ur. Plenty of the rumors I've heard involve descriptions of the dread corprus disease, and the twisted abominations it creates; that this magickal ward, powered by the souls of the dead and, the Dunmer believe, the will of their gods, is supposedly the only means of containing this curse is worth noting - especially now, when it so clearly doesn't appear to function correctly at all. I secretly suspect that if I got the chance to really investigate the layers of enchantment such an edifice would require, I will find that their "gods" have nothing to do with it.

  Without getting too technical and launching into a philosophical lecture of Arkay's Blessing and Law, I can say that, privately and silently (lest I draw persecution), I suspect that the Ghostfence is actually the single-greatest extant example of necromantic magic ever created.

  I should be horrified, I know. Arkay instructs us to not profane the spirits of the dead. Julianos Himself commands that we "observe the law". But he also instructs us to "know the truth". I did not build the Ghostfence. It is not the blood, bones and souls of my forefathers that it feeds upon. It is my not faith that preaches such a sacrifice is not only necessary, but noble and right and proper.

  So, quietly, I have expressed my interest in making a trip to see it. Skink-in-Tree's-Shade seemed surprised and confused by the request the first time I brought it up, so I let it slide until it was forgotten, even by me for a time. I turned the focus of my inquiries towards the Ashlanders, those who preserve the ways of the ancient Dunmer. Skink has shared my interest down that line, thankfully. He is fascinated by the cultures of the different tribes, and he and I have both expressed a wistful desire to meet with one of the wise women face-to-face. Albeit, for different reasons.

  Lately again, though, I've rediscovered my desire to investigate the Ghostfence. Instead of expressing it directly, I have instead asked about learning more about the art of enchantment itself. I feel that even if I did make it right up to the foot of the great wall, I wouldn't have the first idea what I was looking at. Skink has taught me a little, but his duties keep him too busy to devote his full attention towards instructing me in the binding of magickal energy to mundane objects. He does know of a few others in the Guild who might be willing and able to give me the focused training I desire; one of them, a Khajiit in Balmorra, finally wrote him back yesterday saying that she would gladly accept the opportunity. She's a Journeyman, like myself. While she confessed in the letter that her real passion is with alchemy, she has no small skill with enchanting and has much she can teach.

  So, tomorrow morning, after saying goodbye to what has almost been like a home to me for the last few months, Iniel will be sending me off to the Balmora Guild Hall, where Ajira the Khajiit will help me learn what I need to know to prove, at least to myself (but hopefully to the Wizards in the Imperial City), that the Dunmer accept and even worship necromancy, and that their Temple has been using it to fuel their own purposes for generations.