Kvaasik - Tower of the Black Worm
1 - The Rise of Thras
2 - The Cold Front
3 - Change in Wardrobe
4 - The Unsinkable City
5 - An Unlikely Patron
6 - The Purring Liar
7 - The Dismantling Dilemma
8 - The Shade in Sunlight
9 - Varen's Folly
10 - The Soul Siphon
11 - The Astral Escapade
12 - His Master's Student
13 - The Graveyard in the Closet
14 - The Blue Ambush
15 - The Red Redemption
16 - The Liar's End
17 - The Field Work
18 - The Trouble With Taproot
19 - Lessons from Coldharbour
20 - Tower of the Black Worm
I performed the meld again, this time with total confidence. The Staff of Worms will act as a conduit between the planemeld rods, keeping the body of the subject intact almost indefinitely. Speaking of, I chose carefully who my subject shall be; one who is weak physically or magically will not do, because I intend to use this body for the foreseeable future (which is quite a long time in Sload terms). Alliances are also important to consider; a known Stormcloak or Imperial Legionnaire would constantly be attacked by the other party. A Nord would be best, as it is the most common race in Skyrim, and are prominent on either side of this civil war, and therefore could be of neither allegiance.
However, seeing that most of my Nord subjects were known soldiers before I abducted them, I must settle for Arevyn, the alchemist. I brought his corpse along for these precise circumstances, as it was remarkably well-preserved due to the lengths to which Arevyn had altered his body chemistry, and could prove the most able body in terms of magical skills. I drank down another dose of nirnroot solution, the Staff of Worms fixed into the planemeld apparatus. A second later, I opened my eyes at the position of Arevyn’s corpse, opposite me. The experiment was a complete success, as expected. With no further quarries in Meridia’s accursed temple, I strode out for Dawnstar, and for the Temple of Dawn.
Arevyn’s body did not fare as well against the cold as a Nord’s would, but it served its purpose. I carried the Staff of Worms across my back, but, seeing that it was an important resource in the coming Conquest, I disguised its appearance as an old wooden cane to avert the attention of bandits. I carefully disassembled the planemeld apparatus into small parts and scattered them into several pockets in the robe I am wearing as it, too, shall be necessary.
When I arrived in Dawnstar, I immediately felt a difference than when I was last here. The atmosphere was different here, deprived of the same magic I had sensed when I first teleported to Skyrim. Though, it was not entirely gone, it had simply changed. I remembered that the citizens of Dawnstar were having trouble with nightmares before I left, and asked one of the nearby guards if the nightmares had disappeared.
“The nightmares have gone, alright. That priest of Mara solved it…though, I never did see him leave the city. Strange.”
A priest of Mara? No, that did not fit well. He could not have eliminated such powerful magic—not alone. I walked closer to the Tower of Dawn, up the hill of pristine white, and felt the energy more precisely, as if the haze of faint magic became as sharp and crisp an image as a dagger’s point. Entering the Tower, I saw the aftermath of the priest of Mara, his vile shrine and abhorrent candles. I should have to destroy them later.
A wall stood in my way, a likeness of the Daedric Prince of dreams, Vaermina. This tower appears to have once been a temple to Vaermina, but has since been abandoned. I knew the likeness was only a barrier spell, however; if just a small amount of magic is applied, the wall becomes incorporeal, allowing me to walk through it. I do just so, and the shrine becomes a wall of translucent violet, allowing me to strut through it. I descend down staircases and corridors, discovering corpses wearing the armor of brigands, or magenta robes of Vaermina cultists. The priest of Mara—and his accomplice—must have been through here at least a month ago, as the bodies’ state of decomposition is advanced. This will make them less useful servants, though not useless, as we can certainly salvage spare parts from them.
I reach a large center hall, stairs leading to a pedestal. Something immensely powerful used to be here, as a magical imprint remains from where it once stood. Two more dead bodies—a Dunmer and a Nord—lie here; their robes tell me they were the high priests of Vaermina, before the priest of Mara and his friend came through. I noticed that there was another figure here, a Dunmer in the orange and yellow robes of a priest; he must have been killed when he clashed with the cultists, but the friend of his was nowhere to be seen.
However, the past is useless to me; the present is when I can make real change. I set down the polwygle candle on the raised pedestal, recognizing its purpose in this exact instance. A flame jumps from my fingertips to the candle and smoke immediately rises from the off-white wax. It does not envelop me as it did last time, however, as the candle will not be teleporting me anywhere.
The smoke drifts into the air and forms a ring, a perfect circle of wispy gray, and quite suddenly came alight with electric purple. Reality seemed to warp around this portal as something—no, someone—stepped through.
In slow syllables, S’Gast congratulated me on the success of my experiment, and began to unfold the next steps of the plan before me. The first step: I reassembled the planemeld rods with the Staff between them, using its astonishing magic to amplify the power of the apparatus. More Sload stepped through the portal, a small legion to aid in our takeover of Tamriel. The planemeld apparatus will allow them to hide in plain sight, completely undetectable. S’Gast most likely already shared my memories of Skyrim with them, meaning that there is no possibility of discovery.
S’Gast spoke to me again, practicing the language of the land-dwellers. “Continue…with your mission. Gather information…power. Then return. We will begin.” S’Gast paused, and placed his hand on my head. An image immediately entered by mind, of a necklace as dark as ebony with a jade pendant. The skull insignia on the pendant was iconic, and I had no trouble identifying it as Mannimarco’s amulet. He wore this long ago, enchanted with the most powerful magic, to raise armies of undead.
“Find it. In the city of Nords, cloaked in storm, where one of our kind waits and stalks.” With this vague wisdom, S’Gast pulled away and began to speak to the other Sload in low whispers.
I exited the Tower of Dawn, though, considering the change about to sweep over this realm like tide, it deserves a new name. Mannimarco’s gifts from the past shall help us find our rightful rule, so I shall name this monument in his honor: The Tower of the Black Worm. It will be our capital in the coming days, but first, I have a mission to complete.
The city of Nords, which is ‘cloaked in storm’ according to S’Gast, must be the home of the Stormcloaks. I have heard that this city is called Windhelm, and it is somewhere southeast of Dawnstar. But ‘one of our kind’ is too vague to guess; could it mean another Sload, or perhaps a worshipper of Mannimarco? Either way, he may be a useful resource to us, dead or alive.
Thinking over my achievements, I could not help but smirk. One day soon, we will rule over all of Nirn, and its inhabitants will praise us and worship us like the superior beings we are.
Posted Oct 12, 2015, 12:00 AM UTC