Tag Archives: Oblivion

Warning: potential main quest spoilers ahead!

From Garn’s recollections:

Behind Closed Doors

My return to Cloud Ruler Temple was soon met with disappointment as Martin learned of my failure to retrieve the Amulet of Kings. He was utterly shocked, however, when I presented him with the Mysterium Xarxes instead. Martin had made a few veiled allusions to having dabbled in Daedra worship before becoming a priest of Akatosh but his reaction, a combination of intrigue and fear, seem to confirm everything. The intrigue evidently won out as Martin carefully took the tome into possession.

Martin revealed that while I was gone he had studied my copies of the Mythic Dawn Commentaries for more clues on our attackers. He suspected that when Mankar Camoran fled the Mythic Dawn ceremony he returned to the paradise he referred to so much in his writings. Paradise, he suspected, was an actual, physical place, likely in a plane of Oblivion itself. With an artifact as powerful as the Mysterium Xarxes in his possession it was hard to say what Mankar Camoran could have accomplished. Perhaps we could use the Mysterium Xarxes to aid us in stopping the Mythic Dawn? Research would be slow, however, so I left Martin to it and returned to Jauffre for my next mission.

“Well, that was unusually straight forward.”

Jauffre told me of a couple of suspected Mythic Dawn agents who had been spotted numerous times on the road near the temple recently, likely spying on our activities. With the rest of the Blades busy guarding the temple walls or assigned to Martin, he dispatched me to attempt to track these spies down. Captain Steffan added that he had seen them around the runestone near the bottom of the road at around dusk the previous day and suspected I might find them there again.

Setting off down the mountain I found no trace of the spies neither on the road nor near the runestone. My next course of action was to speak to the Bruma city guard to see if they had any suspicions. Captain Burd in the Great Hall couldn’t think of anyone new who had come to the city nor anyone else he could reasonably point a finger towards. He did seem to recall that a Redguard woman named Jearl had just recently come back from a trip, however. Being my only lead, I decided to give Jearl a visit.

“I guess not all spies are masters of concealment.”

I found Jearl’s house, a modest timber home in the Nord inspired style typical of the city, nestled near the city wall in the south side. It seemed that Jearl herself wasn’t at home, however. Deciding that time was of the essence I quickly picked the lock and slipped in. Doing my best to move with utmost stealth I searched through anything that could possibly contain even the smallest hint at some sort of Daedric association. At first it seemed that Jearl’s home was as unassuming on the inside as it was from the outside but with the discovery of a trap door leading to a basement carelessly hidden beneath a rug my investigation took a hard turn.

The basement contained a few very big clues – as if copies of a couple of the volumes of the Mythic Dawn Commentaries weren’t enough I found an extremely revealing letter from Ruma Camoran with details on Jearl’s mission there too. Jearl was to perform reconnaissance on Cloud Ruler Temple in preparation for the cult’s pending attack on Bruma and, ultimately, Martin Septim. This new information was too crucial to wait and I immediately abandoned my attempts to remain undetected and left the house, riding back towards Cloud Ruler Temple.

“Showdown at the Bruma runestone!”

Riding within view of the great runestone outside of the city walls a shadowy figure caught my eye. It was nearing dusk by this point so I drew my horse that direction to see if this could be one of the Mythic Dawn spies. Before even reaching the runestone I saw the figure consumed by a flash of burning orange and red flame and reappear in the Mythic Dawn’s crimson cloaked armor. I’d been spotted. Leaping from my horse and drawing my blade I narrowly dodged a lightning bolt as I swung around to face the cultist. The second Mythic Dawn spy had also joined the fray, both tossing offensive spells at me and taking wild swings with their maces. I had hoped to take these agents alive but their zealous fervor gave me little choice but to defend myself and soon I stood victorious, both cultists laying dead.

Jauffre was pleased with the results in any case, and immediately set off with a small retinue of Blades to warn the Countess of Bruma about the Mythic Dawn’s plans. I spoke to Martin again to see if he’d made any progress with the Mysterium Xarxes. Martin believed that with the power of the Mysterium Xarxes he could indeed open a portal to Camoran’s paradise, but he would need four items to perform the ritual. So far, the only one of these he’d deciphered was the blood of a Daedra lord. It goes without saying that I couldn’t fathom how I could come across such a thing but when Martin suggested that practically all of the legendary Daedric artifacts that had found their way to Tamriel were created with the essence of a Daedric lord, and therefore should suffice, I hatched a plan.

“*proceeds to speak at length about the dark ritual*”

Despite my own study of the arts of conjuration I had steered fairly clear of direct contact with the Daedric princes or their worshipers. Daedric magic was well known to corrupt and besides, Daedra worship had been outlawed in the Empire and I wasn’t eager to find myself in a cell again. Conjuring Daedric creators and items was risky enough. Still, I had always made mental note of my encounters with anything Daedric. One of the first things I had recalled upon listening to Martin’s theories was talk amongst the Anvil Fighter’s Guild about a shrine to the Daedric lord Malacath north of the city. There were widespread rumors that worshipers who made offerings at Daedric shrines were occasionally granted favors by the Daedric princes so perhaps I could find Malacath in a generous mood. I prepared for the long journey back to the Gold Coast.

The conditions around Cyrodiil were worse than I had suspected. Oblivion portals had been opening seemingly randomly throughout the countryside all over the realm, with all manner of Daedra spilling out to raise any sign of civilization they encountered. Many small villages and settlements had been sacked and set ablaze, with those in other areas living in constant fear of a similar fate. Bands of town guards, Imperial Legionnaires, and mercenaries alike banded together to hunt the invaders or, in some case, to defend themselves from being hunted. I could spare little time to help, however, and rode onto Anvil. After a brief rest and a warm meal I located Prince Malacath’s shrine.

“Paying Prince Malacath a visit.”

I found the small shrine nestled in the hills north of Anvil, surprisingly close to the city, actually. Not so surprisingly, the Orcs who attended the shrine were highly suspicious of my motives. Still, after some coaxing one of them suggested an offering of troll fat and soon I was surprised to find that I had successfully summoned the attention of what seemed to be the Daedric lord himself. Not unlike the Orcs who favored him, Malacath was gruff and harsh in tone and wasted little time on pleasantries or small talk. Instead he demanded I do something for him. He wanted to free some Ogres (“his Ogres”) who had been enslaved by a local landowner, Lord Drad. This seemed like a reasonable enough request if it could possibly reward me with an artifact of Daedric origin.

“This guy is probably rethinking his chosen profession about now.”

I found Lord Drad’s estate with ease but when I confronted him about his Ogre slaves he rudely insisted I mind my own business. His wife was a little more sympathetic to the plight of these Ogre slaves and let slip that Drad had them working a small mine on his property. After making my leave I located the mine on the edge of the estate and snuck, unseen, past the door and past the guards. Deeper into the mine I finally located several groups of captive Ogres chained to the walls, smashing stones with their bare fists. A barbaric fate even for brutish Ogres. I slashed off each of Ogre’s shackles as well as the locks on the gates to their cells. The Ogres wasted no time seeking revenge against Lord Drad’s guards, furiously rampaging through the mine. The guards stood little chance. Keeping my distance I followed the Ogres out of the mine and parted ways with them as they continued their rampage onto Lord Drad’s estate.

Back at the shrine Prince Malacath was quite pleased with my success, laughing heartily at the thought of Lord Drad’s fate. He asked me to hold out my arms and soon I found them burdened by the weight of a massive magic warhammer he called Volendrung. Hoping that this would suffice for our ritual I bid the Daedric Prince farewell and prayed to the Nine that he had no knowledge or concern about the Mythic Dawn cult and their plots on Nirn.

Warning: potential main quest spoilers ahead!

From Garn’s recollections:

From Temple to Shrine

I paid a Kvatch refugee handsomely for a horse for Martin to use and we set off North, back towards towards Chorrol. We took to the wilderness, sticking to the base of the Colovian mountains and through the reserve until we reached the Black Road. What we gained in safety from would-be assassins we had traded for possible encounters with the ogres and minotaurs who roamed the highlands. Luckily the journey up to that point was uneventful. Martin and I didn’t even speak much, in fact. He seemed pensive, seemingly often lost deep in thought.

We reached Weynon Priory deep in the night and in our weariness were almost startled off of our mounts when the priory’s stable hand came running towards us screaming. Before either of us could discern what was going on a crimson robed figured shot out from the darkness behind him and cut the man down with a single, powerful downward stroke of his mace. Not expecting to see us, he turned our direction and apprehensively raised his mace above his head. I rode up on the assassin to meet him with a strike down to meet his guard. Martin drew out a large dagger and leapt down from his horse to defend himself as a couple more assassins appeared from the cover of the night. After dispatching our foes Martin followed as I sprinted to the main house of the priory to locate the monks. Finding the building ransacked but no sign of Jauffre we then made haste to the priory chapel.

“Divine beat down in progress.”

Under the dull moonlit glow of the chapel’s great stained glass windows we found Jauffre looking much more like the grandmaster of the Blades than a humble monk as he fended off two more of the crimson robed attackers. These men looked strangely familiar to me but I had no time to ponder this as Jauffre, having already put his sword away and briefly greeted Martin, immediately turned his attention to the Amulet of the Kings which he believed was surely the target of this attack. After a quick search it was confirmed, the Amulet of the Kings was gone.

Jauffre wasted no time. He told us that this situation was clearly escalating and Martin’s safety was now our top priority. The Blades had a secret stronghold built into the Jerall Mountains for such occasions. This fortress, greatly defendable and well stocked with supplies and arms, would become he and Martin’s home for the time being. Quickly gathering the barest essential supplies for the journey we set off northeast towards Bruma.

“At the gates of Cloud Ruler Temple.”

At the end of a long, winding path deep in the frigid mountains of Northern Cyrodiil sat Cloud Ruler Temple. From below on the snow covered path leading to its perch the fortress appeared to be of a simple, single-minded construction, with great featureless grey-stone blocks stacked to form a massive wall, though a more careful eye could spot the expert craftsmanship in its subtle curves. The thick iron reinforced gates swung open as Jauffre approached and uttered some secret password or another. Reaching the main courtyard which sat at the top of the small compound we were greeted by more Blades than I had ever guessed existed. Jauffre quickly assembled his key members for an update on the situation and, most importantly, to introduce Martin. Martin gave a quick, informal speech but the dedicated members of the Blades enthusiastically greeted him as their new emperor all the same.

Martin Septim, they’d call him from then on. It dawned on me that what I was witnessing was truly a historic event, one that would be spoken, sang, and written about for untold years to come. That was, of course, if we could indeed protect Martin from whatever forces these were that conspired to destroy the empire. Jauffre snapped me out of my musings and thanked me for my service. His demeanor was cold and focused. He went on to tell me that they needed as much help as possible with the numerous tasks that lay ahead and officially invited me to join the Order of the Blades. As I was duty bound to see this matter through, I accepted.

“Finally someone with confidence in my abilities…”

The next morning a small feast was held in the stronghold’s main hall in which Jauffre, Martin, and several of the senior Blades debated how to move forward. Our next move, we had all agreed, was obvious: regardless of who was orchestrating this attack we needed to get Amulet of the Kings back into our possession so that Martin could perform the traditional ritual of lighting the Dragonfires to be officially coronated as the new Emperor of Cyrodiil. This may also, it was believed, prevent the creation of portals like the ones that were used in the invasion of Kvatch.

My first mission as an official member of the Blades was to meet up with Baurus in the Imperial City. The only other surviving witness to the assassination, Baurus had been heavily involved in working with the Blades on their investigation into the identity of the Emperor’s assassins and had apparently come up with somewhat of a lead. Jauffre wanted me to assist him in any way he needed. At first I was apprehensive about seeing Baurus again after I had disappeared with the Amulet of the Kings for so very long, but he evidently had never sought to have me tracked down or cast any blame my way. In any case, I set off back to the Imperial City.

“Heading back down to the lowlands and the Imperial City.”

At first I thought that my apprehension might have been justified. I met the senior Knight of the Order of the Blades looking rather less formal and battle-ready than the last time I saw him. Garbed in plain clothes and drinking an ale at the Luther Broad’s Boarding House in the Elven Gardens District, Baurus greeted me very coldly. Instead of making conversation he insisted I wait for him to get up, wait for him to be followed, and then follow behind them. True enough, as Baurus walked into the darkened storage room at the back of the inn the Breton man who follow him conjured the same crimson attire I was starting to become all too familiar with and attacked Baurus while his back was still turned. Ready for him, Baurus spun around and parried his attacks as I drew my own sword and ran to assist him. The attacker was quickly dispatched.

Much to my relief Baurus’s mood shifted and he greeted me heartily. Searching the body of his would-be assassin we discovered something I hadn’t seen on any of the other crimson robed attackers prior: an unusual book called Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes. The writings mostly seemed to be praising the worship of Daedric prince Mehrunes Dagon. Baurus told me that he had been working to orchestrate the attempt on his life that I just helped foiled for quite sometime and was confident that it would lead to the identities of the conspirators. This book seemed key. His knowledge on Daedra worship was limited, however, and he suggested I visit Tar-Meena, an expert on Daedric cults at the Arcane University.

“Two new names to add to our shitlist…”

Luckily Tar-Meena was immediately familiar with the Commentaries although had only read the first two of four total volumes. She loaned me the second volume to reference and went on to explain that the Mythic Dawn was a Daedric cult dedicated to worshiping Mehrunes Dagon and that these books were written by their founder Mankar Camoran. Little else beyond the contents of these books was known about them as like most Daedric cults they tended to keep to themselves. It all made perfect sense though – of all the Daedric lords Mehrunes Dagon’s ambitions of conquering Tamriel were well storied.

Tar-Meena suggested I attempt to track down the other two volumes of the Mythic Dawn Commentaries for more clues. Luckily the capital was the perfect place to start my search and I set out to the various book sellers in the Market District. Soon I found one with a rare copy of volume three though it had already been reserved. Coincidentally the buyer was arriving that very day to pick it up so I waited to confront him. At first the man refused my offers to buy the book and was even suspiciously defensive about the Mythic Dawn, but when I told him about their suspected role in the plot to assassinate the Emperor his tone changed entirely. Not only did he give me volume three, he also told me that he had arranged to meet a member of the group to acquire the final volume later that day.

The final book was the last step in being recruited into the cult, it seemed, and this collector was willing to risk catching the Mythic Dawn’s eye just to acquire it. Instead, I would go in his place. I soon met back up with Baurus to give him an update on the mission. Baurus was enthusiastic to help and told me that he had learned the sewers and other tunnels beneath the capital well while working to investigate the assassination, offering to take me to the arranged meeting point himself.

“Well, I guess this is how meetings in sewers usually go…”

Mid-morning the next day Baurus lead me to an access tunnel in a small back alley in the Market District and we began to make our way through the intricate network of dark and musty tunnels buried below city. At the designated meeting place I took cover in the shadows as Baurus sat at a small table waiting for the cultist sponsor to arrive. Unfortunately the Mythic Dawn’s awareness of Baurus’s investigation was deeper and more widespread than he had ever suspected and the cultist recognized him almost immediately, calling out three more Mythic Dawn members from another chamber to join him. I sprang into action as Baurus drew his sword. Soon all four of the cultists lay dead. Baurus expressed some disappointment at not getting a chance to potentially infiltrate the ranks of the group but Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes Book Four was in our possession regardless.

“Who else has a raging clue?”

With Tar-Meena’s expert assistance Baurus and I puzzled over the collected four volumes searching for clues, and soon uncovered what seemed like a cryptic message guiding us to a spot in the cemeteries of Green Emperor Way at a particular time of day. Once Baurus and I had found the spot we waited patiently for something to happen. Eventually the dawn’s light hit a particular tomb just so as to highlight an engraving of a map of the province with a mark on a specific area. With my old landmark maps for reference we concluded that the marked area was Lake Arrius, north of Cheydinhal.

Satisfied that we had identified those responsible for the assassination and that his mission was complete, Baurus returned to Cloud Ruler Temple to update Jauffre and to re-take his place amongst the Blades. I, on the other hand, met up with one of my brothers from the Knights of the Nine at the only place I had marked on my maps that seemed like a likely candidate for a cult to hide out. I had labeled it simply as “Lake Arrius Caverns” – I didn’t recall these caverns being particularly noteworthy but then again Daedra worshipers often made a habit of hiding themselves quite well.

I was surprised to find myself stepping into a large chamber in the cavern to be greeted by a crimson robed Dunmer casually sitting by a boarded up section of the cave wall writing in some sort of a journal by the light of a brazier placed near by. Assuming that I was simply a late arrival for a gathering presumably already started, he asked that I hand over my possessions and don an initiate’s robe to gain entry into the shrine. A perfect opportunity seemed to have presented itself to us! I started to to comply but when Sir Geimund caught up to me wearing such similar garb to me the cultist must have correctly surmised that they were being infiltrated and ran to sound the alarm. I hurled a powerful flame spell at his back, knocking him down before he could alert too many others. Geimund and I drew our swords, raised our shields, and prepared to infiltrate the Mythic Dawn’s hideout the hard way.

“Spying on Mankar Camoran as he prepares a sacrifice.”

We fought our way through the twisting tunnels and chambers of the caverns until reaching a massive room and what appeared to be some sort of a ritual taking place. A robed figure was making a rather zealous speech under a massive statue of Mehrunes Dagon to a couple of dozen Mythic Dawn listening intently. We’d only just got settled in to listen and observe when a patrolling cultist spotted us on our perch above the ceremony and attacked. Mankar Camoran quickly disappeared into a glowing orange portal as the remaining cultists rushed to join the attack. A vicious battle ensued, with Sir Geimund and I finding ourselves quickly cornered. Still, most of these cultists were still only initiates and were neither skilled fighters nor gifted magic users and the Knights of the Nine had overcome much more difficult enemies.

“Mythic Dawn massacre.”

When the dust settled I found no sign of the Amulet of Kings but what they had left behind was shocking: high upon the altar lay the Mysterium Xarxes itself. Tar-Meena had explained that the Mythic Dawn Commentaries series of books we had been using to track down the cult was somewhat of a re-translation of an ancient artifact of great, evil power called the Mysterium Xarxes. A tome written by Mehrunes Dagon himself. Tar-Meena suggested that it was unlikely that Mankar Camoran had ever really possessed the artifact and that instead his commentaries were based on legends and popular myth about the Daedric prince but there it was, in front of us.

We carefully gathered up the artifact and made a hasty exit from the cavern, not knowing how useful this find would be to our cause, but knowing it had to be of some great significance.

Warning: potential main quest spoilers ahead!

From Garn’s recollections:

Kvatch

After informing my most trusted knights that I was embarking on a new, crucial, and for now, totally secret quest, I packed my saddlebags in preparation for potentially spending a very long time living back out on the land and rode out of the West Weald and north towards Chorrol. Sticking mostly to the roads the journey was uneventful and Chorrol seemed more or less exactly as I had last left it. Weynon Priory resembled the Knight’s own compound save for its far less remote location, sitting just outside the city walls and along a main road. A monk that was tending the gardens greeted me and directed me to the main house of the priory. I entered and found Brother Jauffre sitting at his desk scratching on some parchment.

“Weynon Priory, at long last…”

Jauffre seemed unfamiliar with my garb or my name and, probably mistaking me of some young knight-errant looking for his next quest, was all business when it came to addressing me. I most definitely captured his full attention when I told him that Baurus had sent me to him and that I knew he was in fact the Grandmaster of the Order of the Blades and not just a simple monk of the Order of Talos. His demeanor changed even more dramatically when I revealed the Amulet of the Kings to him – he demanded to know more about how I acquired the relic and what I knew of the Emperor’s assassination. Having carried the burden of my tale for so long it was a relief to finally tell someone what I knew. Carefully listening to my story, Jauffre seemed to let his guard down and believe that I was indeed there to help rather than to further sully the reputation of the empire with blackmail or extortion.

“Err, okay? You really don’t believe me do you?”

Feeling fairly confident that I could trust him, I let lose the last, scandalous detail of that infamous day: the Emperor’s mention of an heir to the throne. Jauffre seemed less phased than I had expected with this news. He told me that he in fact knew of the potential for such an heir to exist, as he had seen to an illegitimate child when he was much younger and assigned as one of the Emperor’s personal bodyguards. As he explained it seemed to dawn on him how important that detail was given the political state of the empire and, it seemed, rumors concerning this would-be heir’s last location, Kvatch. That boy, now a man, was known to the Blades to be a priest in the Chapel of Akatosh there.

The Blades had been largely de-activated in the wake of the assassination, with those few remaining active members mostly working on investigating the assassination and occasionally detailed to guarding members of the Elder Council. It would take some time for Jauffre to rally them. He asked me, upon my honor as a knight, to journey to Kvatch and escort the heir, Martin, back with me to the safety of the priory while drawing as little attention us as possible. It had to be done.

“Hm, your city is slightly less impressive than I remembered.”

I had been hearing rumors regarding the city of Kvatch for quite a long time. At first there were tales of attacks in the city, some said bandits had been openly challenging the city guard while others reported demons patrolling the alleyways at night. Regardless, it was enough to cause many of the citizens to eventually flee and with that the rumors shifted to a plague outbreak within the city walls. In any case I had almost totally avoided the city since escaping my cell. When I started up the road to its main gate I was shocked to find it lined by a tents in some sort of a makeshift refugee camp. The tattered population of the camp spoke in incoherent ramblings about Daedra attacking and burning their homes but mostly overwhelmingly referred me to Savlian Matius, the guard who was heading up the defense of the city.

Upon riding hastily further up the road I could see that their ramblings were more sensible than first believed – great plums of smoke flowed up from behind the crumbling city walls and some sort of massive, pulsating portal stood menacingly directly in front of the city gates. A small contingent of city guard barricaded themselves with bow and sword at the ready directly in front of me. Bodies, rubble, and fire littered the small field in between.

“An Oblivion Gate you say?!”

At first, as if by reaction alone, Savlian warned me off, telling me to return the encampment. It was only after a double-take, noting my armor and weapons, that he began to explain the scene before us. Apparently the citizens had been reporting more and more random sightings of Dremora, evidently scouting the city, sometimes leading to confrontations with citizens and city watch. Months of these events steadily escalated, culminating in great gateways to Oblivion opening up and legions of Daedra pouring into the city indiscriminately killing and burning. Savlian was confused about how Daedra were able to invade our realm in such a way, and even more confused about why they could be targeting Kvatch in particular. I had my suspicions as likely did Jauffre.

“Taking in this *incredibly rare* sight.”

Savlian knew of the priest, Martin, and believed that he was last sighted still alive inside the city. Unfortunately there was no easy way into the city while this great portal sat active in our way. He told me that he had seen other such gates close during the initial attack so he believed this one could be closed somehow too and had sent a small contingent of his men in earlier to investigate. Much to his disbelief without a second thought I volunteered to join them in this mission and set off towards the portal, sword in hand.

“Beautiful place!”

Immediately upon stepping through the portal I found myself in a desolate land of fire and smoke, unlike anything I had ever seen before in all of Cyrodiil. Besides the strange plants and the blood red sky, this world was filled with massive cliffs of great shattered boulders and impassable seas of flame. Barely perceivable, nestled amongst the chaos, were traces of crude roads, bridges, gates, and other signs of civilization. I spotted the most impressive of these structures, a massive tower jetting up on the horizon, and made reaching it my goal. Along the way I was attacked at various times by patrolling Dremora soliders along with other Daedric creatures but given that the Daedra clearly weren’t anticipating an incursion of their own they never came at me in numbers that made them difficult to defeat.

“Odd being on the receiving end of a Dremora attack for once.”

Arriving at the base of tower and entering I found fierce resistance from the Dremora who manned this place. With the power of my crusader’s artifacts I was able to cut through my foes and climb my way up the tower all the same. In one of the tower’s chambers I found Menien Goneld, evidently one of the Kvatch guardsmen Savlian had sent in earlier, being tortured for a Dremora warrior’s depraved amusement. After a brief confrontation Menien told me that the Dremora I just killed was in fact the “Sigil Keeper” of the tower and with his keys I could access the Sigil Stone at the top of the structure which he believed was what powered the portal. Setting the man free I continued on my way.

“On my way up to the Sigil Stone.”

Breaching the fortified Sigil Keep at the top of the tower and slaying its occupants I took the risk of betting on Menien and his men’s hard earned information and reached into the powerful energy beam that shot through the great tower, pulling out the Sigil Stone. After a brief moment of violent quaking which threatened to shake apart the entire structure I found myself, with the blink of an eye, back outside of the main gate of Kvatch – the Oblivion portal was gone! Savlian and his men rushed to welcome me back will all manner of questions about what lay on the other side of the portal and the fate of their fellow guardsmen. I was relieved but my task was not yet close to completion.

“Charging into Kvatch!”

I told Savlian that we had no time to rest – that I must get into the city and find Martin. Savlian needed no convincing as he was eager to get back into the city himself and soon we were all charging into the city’s ruined plaza, summarily dispatching anything of Daedric origin we spotted. Hard fights, all, but with minimal casualties we pushed our way through the burning streets and into the chapel. It seemed that the chapel had served as some sort of a gathering point for refugees and we were greeted by a few more Kvatch guards and dozens of survivors that had holed up there. After escorting them to the relative safety of the camp beyond the city walls, we pushed our way all the way to the castle, and while we saved many more lives and dispatched many more Daedra, we were too late for Ormellius Goldwine, the Count of Kvatch. Savlian and his men had much work to do to finish securing the remnants of the city. I left them to it.

“So apparently all of these NPCs just think I’m full of shit?”

Back with the refugees I identified Martin and pulled him to the side where our conversation could not be easily overheard. Exhausted from the previous fights I made no effort to mince words and told him exactly why I was there. Martin was, of course, incredibly confused but, given what he knew of his own mysterious past, he somehow didn’t seem to dismiss the notion of being Uriel Septim VII’s heir outright. Instead, having little left for him in Kvatch, he agreed to journey with me back to Weynon Priory to at least hear Jauffre out. One of the guards who had fought alongside me found Martin a horse and soon we were on our way back to Chorrol.