It seemed the red-furred khajiit miscalcuated - the translucent cyan portal cut an ethereal hole in the cosmos intead of cuttting an abortoreal swath in a tree. They fell in a heap in the mud near an unrecognizable landmark. He got up, wiped the mud from his armor and saw, not a house, but a castle that looked more like a cathedral.
Hasir snarled in frustration and looked over his shoulder, casting a death glare at Nanaki.
"Nanaki, you idiot! This isn't where the portal was supposed to leave us. You didn't misjudge the direction, did you?"
Nanaki approached the Argonian and beheld the cathedral; immediately, his stomach dropped like a firebomb.
"It seems we... went back in time or, at least, it appears that way. I wonder if this a trick of Sheogoraths to throw us off the scent. He must be working with Molag Bal."
Hasir eyed him and scoffed.
"Him and Bal work together? Good one. Now tell my the one about the friendly dragon.
Nanaki cast a sidelong glance at Hasir at smirked.
"You mean like the one right next to me?"
Hasir ignored this as he and Inigo moved past the insolent red-furred khajiit and entered the castle. Hasir poked his head out of the massive brown door and asked Nanaki if he would be joining sometime this century, before they all turn to dust. The red-furred sheepishly apologized and hurried up to catch up with the group.
Once inside, Hasir and his companions marveled at the amount of detail on the exquisitely designed limestone walls and ceiling depicting fox-like beings driving out some daedra with spear, bow and arrow and ice magic.
"I don't think I've ever seen such beautiful carving in my life. I wonder who made these." He said to Inigo.
The khajiit, who was matching him step for step, merely shrugged.
"I've no idea, my friend. Look at the inscription here." He said, pointing to a pillar. "It's in some ancient language, I can't discern it."
Nanaki appeared behind them, making Inigo's fur stand on end.
"I am learned in not only the art of communing with spirits, but also with long, forgotten languages. Let's see here. It says 'This cathedral was constructed by the Lilmothiit, banished from Lilmoth by that which swirls black and blue. Since that event, the Lilmothiit is as present as a whisper on the wind, only one has survived'."
Both Inigo and Hasir looked at each other; each having nary a clue what the crypic clue meant. When they thought the translation was lost, a booming voice echoed from further inside the cathedral.
"I believe I can help with that."
Hasir, Inigo and Nanaki turned and stared in awe at a grey wolf-like Lilmothiit dressed in brown and gold robes embroidered with blue beads and other various symbols.
"Who might you be who can read such obscure language?"
The Lilmothiit bowed his head in doubt.
"My name is Quetzalcoatl. I am the last of the Lilmothiit, or was until the black and blue clouds came and the dread line took my village, my people and, ultimately, my life." He said, sorrowfully.
Hasir raised a spikey eyebrow. He had no idea, well he obviously had some idea why the Lilmothiit were driven from their home.
"Was? Your people hail from Lilmoth, or they did before my people set up camp there. Why did you leave? Does this have something to do with Molag Bal?"
Quetzalcoatl shivered slightly as if he could feel the cold air of Coldharbor upon him.
"Do not speak to me of the monster. Yes, it has all to do with him." He gestured to the windows dotting the Cathedral. "As you can no doubt see, my people fought valiantly against the daedra but, ultimately, lost. Their machines were too great against our spears and bows. One of us remains, however. Her name is meadow. She resides in a watermill not too far from the ruins you now stand in."
Again, Hasir and Inigo stared at each other. Perhaps Molag Bal drove the Lilmothiit insane and they created illusions.
"We aren't standing in ruins." Hasir said with a nervous laugh. "This is real. I mean, I can see a intact cathedral, not ruins."
Hasir blinked and he finally saw it, the once whole cathedral a pale imitation of what it once was. Pillars of ruined rock, bits of pillar with incomplete carvings on them spreading its skeletal arms to the sky. Hasir looked all about him for the cathedral but found only destruction. In fact, what one seemed to be green through the portal they had conjured back in Morrowind was now devoid of life. Dull grye land scattered with the bones of deceased animals far as the eye could see.
The Argonian hissed in indignation, not knowing whether to accept this grim reality or long for the illusion.
"What just happened? Could this truly be Molag Bal's doing?" Inigo gulped for fear of the pontentiality of the grim outcome. "Oh well, Well, you can't drink water and expect it to be mead." He said, sighing. "The best we can hope for now is that meadow is still alive, pray she isn't an illusion." He said, darkly
He and the companions walked due north of the cathedral until they came to a water mill surrounded by various animals: bears, deer and rabbits. Inigo moved toward the mill hopefully, but Hasir held him back, shaking his head.
"Inigo, stop! We've no idea whether this is an illusion or not. Remember the cathedral."
The blue and red khajiit admired the unblemished nature as they ascended the wooden steps while listening to the water creeping over the red water wheel, painting the rocks below with blue. Inigo rapped his knuckles on the brown door. I was answered by a female Vulpine creature of such beauty that, for the feintest of seconds, he considered cheating on Ma'kara's memory.
The feminine fox outfitted in a slightly less wore pair of robes than her deceased father wore, looked at the three travelers quizzically.
"Hello, may I help you?" She asked
Hasir cleared his throat and introduced himself along with his companions.
"I am Hasir, this is Inigo and that is Nanaki." He said, gesturing to his comrades. "The reason we're here is because, well, we saw you're father." He said, tail hanging limply. "But enough doom and gloom. Ther eal reason we came here is because... this may sound odd, but do you know the whereabouts of a young Altmer woman named Ceralyne?"
Meadow considered this for a moment then shook her head.
"I haven't seen her, sorry about that."
The Argonian's tail took refuge between his legs like a snake hiding betwixt two trees.
"Oh." He said, eyes downcast. "Well, do you know where she was last?"
Again, the young Lilmothiit shook her head, further depressing the Argonian.
"I've no idea...erm, she may be in..." She paused and thought on this. Her voice came back like a roaring wave. "Someone did tell me that your high elf friend is imprisoned in limbo, stuck between this reality and the cold, unforgiving world of Coldharbour. I think the one who is responsible is Sheogorath."
Hasir wore an expression on his face as if he drank foul smelling water.
"Sheogorath? I thought he was on our side. Why would he betray us to Stonefire?"" He asked, outraged.
In response, Meadow sighed. She knew the general idea but not the specifics of Molag Bal's purpose so relied on educational guesses to fill in the gaps.
"I don't know. I do know, however, that Sheogorath does not take sides. He plays his own game. If he happens to drag a daedra into his game, that is a happy accident. As for why he is 'working' with Molag Bal. I have no idea. Perhaps Bal hypnotizeed, brainwashed or is controlling Sheogorath is some other manner. Maybe Someone else is assuming console of Sheogorath who is working for Molag Bal? Maybe someone who he saw fit to replaced the Doomstrider with? Who can say? All that remains to be seen. Now come in and bring you friends in with you, He has spy situated everywhere on Tamriel."
As the Argonian and two khajiit entered the cozy cabin, their eyes swept the room, taking in the wood stove burning in the corner, the bear rug sprawled across the floor near the door and a large wooden fireplace situated adjacent to the door as well as a wooden chair and carved wooden couch across from the fireplace. They looked skyward and marvelled at the molding seperating house from roof, depicting various wild animals.
Hasir's hand instinctively flew to his weapon when he hear unsolicited footstep coming from a shadowy corner of the cabin. A khajiit weearing a deep purple robe with blue symbols stepped from the shadows.
"Hasir, how... unpleasant to see you again. I heard everything. The last surviving member of a doomed race told you where to find your beloved Altmer did she? What a shame. If I were in her shoes, I would've left my prey guessing. It is also so satisfying to watch prey squirm before the predator has dinner. Don't you think?"
Inigo and Nanaki, looked on, clueless as Hasir narrowed his eyes, tail thrashing about like a beached whale.
"Khamara, nice to see you again." He said though gritted teeth. "Let me guess, you are the one Molag Bal replaced the doomstrider with? His new shadow? What have you done to Meadow's race? What have you done with Ceralyne? Did you create the illusion of the cathedral?"
As Khamara walked towards the Argonian, her face broke out into an evil sneer.
"You poor deluded lizard." She said mockingly. "You don't get it, do you? He has elevated past even that of the highest soul shriven and that isn't saying much." She said, laughing darkly.
All of a sudden, Hasir felt an impenetrable wall of solid air close about him like the inescapable coils of some unseeen giant snake. He struggle while he was hoisted into the air, making him look like a grotesque reptilian puppet.
Hasir struggled against the invisible bonds as Khamara spread similar fire that he saw the Doomstrider use across the ground forming a glowing purple pentagram, candles glowing purple against the brown wood panelking of the cabin. Hasir gasped as the flames of the candles suddenly turned black as night. He glanced up as he saw the khajiit melting in the candle flames - he tought she was melting, it could've been a trick of the light.
Despite what the Argonian thought, she was indeed melting; flesh and fur hanging off of her body like moss on a tree. He now saw here as she really was; a grotesque bluish-purple tailless, anorexic draugr with purple flames burning as bright as the pentagram's candles in their sunken sockets. Hasir screamed; a sound that never left him.
The hideous creature, formerly a feline femme fatale, flung him against the wall and superimposed the star-like shape around his reptilian form.
"Oh, look. A reptilian mobile. Nice to see life from the perspective of the fly on the wall rather than the one with the swatter, isn't it?"
The seemingly flame retardent Argonian struggled against the bonds made from the same bright purple as the flames suffocated his wrists like a sailor dying of thirst.
"I knew you weren't to be trusted. Are you intent on sending more souls to Molag Bal or are you too busy licking Ancano's boots to do that? Hsss."
Khamara gestured with her hand and drew the pentagram closer so Hasir could see the puprle flame eyes properly.
"Foolish lizard." She said with a manevolent sneer. Molag Bal molded me from his clay. He formed me into a messenger of death, such that the deluded housecat, 'the doomstrider,' couldn't have achieved. Molag Bal saw the cat's usefulness come to an end. Ancano, on the other claw, well that's a different kettle of fish altogether... you see, he has now idea he's working for lord Bal. I put a spell on him that in completely undetectable and, likewise, unliftable."
Hasir hissed as he struggled like a floudering flish against a taut fisherman's net.
"What about the Silver brotherhood? Blackmarsh? The hist trees? What is your role in that?"
Khamara, rather the thing that wore her fur suit, smirked.
"That, my dear Argonian, I will not dignify with an answer. Only Molag Bal, I and a few others know of the plan. As you are neither, I will not waste my time or energy to explain it to a soul shriven such as yourself." She said, sneering, as she powered up her soul fire spell."
Seeing the deep bluishpurple flame in her skeletal hand, Hasir recognized it and gasped.
"That.. you didn't." He said, eyes narrowed and fangs clenched. "You used the same spell to imprison the Doomstrider and steal his energy, didn't you?" He hissed.
The draugr advanced until she was an inch away from the Argonian's snout.
"Veery perseptive, lizard." She said, smiling - at least, Hasir thought it was a smile. "Yes, I trapped him and the other gods of fate in a undisclosed location that I doubt you will know."
Hasir's eyes went wide as dinner plates as, in his mind's eye, he visualized a building with a cracked brown door.
"The Halls of Torment? Why there? All of Coldharbor and you chose there? why?"
Again, the dragur ginned as she laughed at the Argonian's niavite.
"How stupid are you? Not there, that daedra has been beaten to death already. No, I sent them to wander aimlessly in The Moonless Walk after I had Molag Bal judge their souls as unworthy."
Hasir gasped and asked whether they would be turned into more werewolf-vampire hybrids for Molag Bal's army. The draugr shook it's head and further berated the Argonian.
"Sadly, no. That would be poetic justice. Imagine, the gods of fate turned into twisted creatures that defy explanation and are twisted versions of that which has no fate." She searched in Hasir's pocket and found a book. Her eyes lit up as she opened it. "What have we here? What the... it's blank. WHat good is that? Oh well, I suppose this is a fitting vessel for you. Farewell. Enjoy your ship sailing on the seas of uncertain darkness."
Hasir could feel a strong wind ripping the bonds and pulling him like a doomed sailor to the depths of the sea. Hasir fought againt it hard as he could, but, unltimately knew it to be a fruitless endeavor. Resigned to his fate, he spiraled downward into the blank beige-colored pages and drifted off in unconscious. Before he went under completely, he could see a bluish black light at the end of a long unlit tunnel.
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