Kvaasik - The Revelation

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
21 - A Wolf Among Sheep
22 - The Revelation

Calixto and I left Windhelm shortly after our duel. He had explained to me his goal, resurrecting his sister via flesh magic, and his means, using parts from the women of Windhelm to assemble a new body for his sister. Despite his making no progress, his attempts were rather impressive, able to successfully analyze the parts he needs from ancient Aldmeri texts written in a language that few mortals can understand, as well as recovering an infamous artifact of Mannimarco. Of course, he lacked the knowledge and experience Malkoran had, which contributed to his failure.

Night began to fall, and Calixto grew tired. We were forced to stop, as even I had not recovered fully from my battle with the mage. I kept the Necromancer Amulet literally close to my chest, worn over my neck. I would never let such a powerful artifact be stolen.

I stood in a dark room, the tiles beneath me as black as ebony and the ceiling (if there was one) cloaked in shadow. I was here for a reason; attacking someone? No, I was defending myself. I noticed now the dead bodies of daedra and other creatures that I had killed scattered about the floor, a hazy luminescent mist hanging lazily over them. Suddenly, another enemy appeared, a daedroth with a battleaxe. I should have been able to take him out with a fireball, but the only magic I could cast was a single lick of flame. The daedroth was unimpeded and swung a battleaxe in my direction. I escaped his blade with clumsy movements, and reached my hand out to touch his neck, the only unarmored part of his body. When my hand touched his flesh, a terrible tremor ricocheted through him and he clattered to the misted floor.

“Is this all, Molag Bal?” My voice was not my own. It was old, and tired, but it was familiar. “Your daedric grunts cannot defeat me; the King of Worms shall never surrender to you!” The King of Worms! This was Mannimarco; somehow, I had managed to see through his eyes, feel his strain as he battles against Molag Bal’s relentless assaults. How or why he is in Oblivion does not matter; his strength is failing. I need to help him, as a faithful servant of the God of Worms.

I awoke quite suddenly. I rarely ever have dreams, but this was too realistic, more of a memory than a dream. The cause of it was clear. I held the Necromancer Amulet in my palm, feeling the sleek edges of the necklace Mannimarco had worn long ago. A fragment of his soul must have been tethered to this trinket after pushing the laws of life and death so many times, allowing me to project my consciousness through his senses by wearing the amulet.

The objective of our mission must change to fit these new circumstances. Holding reign over Tamriel will be our goal in the long run, but as servants to Mannimarco, saving him must be our priority.

A few hours later, as the sun began to peek over the dim horizon and leak its orange light into the sky, Calixto awoke. He needs to brace himself for my Sload brothers before we enter the Tower of the Black Worm. I made a risky decision, but a decision that must be made. “Calixto. There is something I must share with you.”