"Talk. Tell me everything you know about Clavicus, his plans, his cults. Leave nothing out, because if you do and I find out, I'm going to remove a tooth for everyone you miss... If you run out of teeth, I'll start with your fingers, then your limbs, then, if there's more after that? Well, I'll have to get creative." Michael warns, the orc opposite him trembling with fear at the prospect.
"I-I'm... I was part of the largest cult in Cyrodil, it was them who gave me the Golden Stand, the statue that influenced my guest's minds. I don't know who's their leader, but it has people from farmers and fishers to nobles and the affluent... T-they only got bigger when the Moon Sickness appeared, saying it was the will of our-, their Lord..."
...
"Where's their headquarters?" Michael probes, wondering if he should just kill everyone involved and be done with it.
"I-I don't know... They would send me a letter and set up a meeting in some random place. L-Last time was a crypt on the outskirts of Chorrol... But the time before that was held privately in an inn in Kvatch..."
"How many people turned up at these 'events'?" Michael inquires.
"A-almost everyone... We wear masks inside to prevent our identities from being discovered..." the Orc hurriedly says.
"And, how does no one in the Empire not notice the mass gathering of supposedly important individuals for seemingly no reason?"
"I-... I don't know..."
...
So, no names, no location... "Does the cult have a name?"
Keo shakes his head, "N-no..."
No name...
How the fuck was he going to find the rest of Clavicus Vile's artifacts in good time?... He might need immortality to complete his search... If he hadn't already got it? Which was another matter entirely.
He'd destroyed Keo's gambling house so there was no chance to get an 'invitation' to one of the cult meets...
"Do you know anyone at all in the cult? I don't care if they're a bigger or the emperor, just anyone." Michael asks.
...
Keo slowly nods, "Itori, a Breton minstrel who owns a drinking hall not far from my property... Former property..."
"And, do you think he'll receive a letter anytime soon...?"
...
"Yes. Within a few months, I think." Keo admits.
Michael nods and begins standing up but pauses, "Good... Ah, last thing. Do you know anything about the other artifacts of Clavicus Vile? Anything at all?"
...
"T-there was a rumour. The leader of the cult possesses an artifact... Just a rumour though..." the orc grips the bars of his cell tighter, "C-can I go now?... I've answered your questions!"
Michael shakes his head, "Not until I can confirm everything you've said. Until then, sit tight." he says before leaving and going to the other cell on this floor.
"Hello Barbas, ready for another session?" he asks the caged dog, causing it to whimper in terror.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"A-Arch-Mage! Savos! We need to do something! We can't let this happen!"
*CRRRRrrrrrrrrrrr!*
Savos gives a solemn sigh, "Forgive me old friend, but there is little that can be done now..."
*KCCCRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrr!*
The College rumbles once more and the two men just look at the cracks forming along the floor and walls... They'd already evacuated everyone, including Urag who'd gotten a bunch of Apprentices to help him carry out the entirety of the Arcanum.
"But the history... The undiscovered mysteries... Everything will be lost... What of the Augur? Should we allow him to be buried under a mile of rubble!?"
Savos shakes his head, "As I have told you time and again, the Augur is not the student you remember. It, is simply a sentient font of magic that is linked with the world, it will not die or disappear with the College's collapse... We will be able to unearth it in time..."
*CRRRrrrrrrrrr!*
"Focus your efforts on the reconstruction of the College... Let us make it bigger and better, possibly with the help of our Eredar friends' Gemcrafting."
...
"If that's what you think, Arch-Mage, then I suppose I can only listen and obey." Tolfdir reluctantly says before following the Arch-Mage out of the College. They step off of the bridge just as a large *CRAACK!* rings out, a large stone falling into the ocean and causing the College to slump and begin to slide.
*SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!*
*CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSHHHHH!!!*
The entire city of Winterhold had gathered to observe the 'Second Great Collapse', most being thankful that the destruction only extended to the College, with zero loss of life.
"Are you okay, Arch-Mage?" Saya asks at his side, the Dunmer looking incredibly weary.
Savos doesn't blink as he watches the collapse of the once-great College he both studied in and looked after... "No, Apprentice... I am the Arch-Mage to stand present as the great and ancient institution he was supposed to safeguard fell into the sea, my name will be remembered for this tragic loss of culture and history, never to be forgotten."
"So, what, you think you should be in there as it breaks? Like a Captain going down with his ship? Don't be stupid! If anything will be remembered, it'll be the Thalmor firing god damn siege weapons at it!" Saya exclaims, breaking Savos from his stupor.
...
"I suppose... But that doesn't remove any loss of responsibility from my being. I was supposed to protect this place. Now look at it." he quietly gestures to the pile of rubble at the bottom of the cliff.
Saya shrugs, "I never liked the College anyway, too cramped, too cold... At least now we can make somewhere comfortable to actually study... How's that sound? First Arch-Mage of the Reformed College of Winterhold? Founder? I don't know."
"Hmm... Let us not choose a name so quickly..." Savos says, not wanting Saya's bad naming sense to ruin whatever new reputation he might recover from this travesty.
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"So let me get this straight, woman... You want to confirm that I'm Dragonborn by having me kill a dragon that might not even be there." Surtr asks Delphine as they walk out of Riverwood towards Kynesgrove.
The blonde Breton nods, "Yes, what's so strange about that? I am confident that Alduin will act as he has been, following the path the Dragonstone set, and reviving its kin from the dragon burial."
Surtr shakes his head, "No, I don't give a shit about the dragon burial, I can believe that... What I cannot believe is you still thinking I am some, fraud! A liar! Most of Whiterun knows what I did! The guards saw me do it! I can use the Thu'um better than a man with twenty years of learning!"
Delphine sniffs at him, "Whether or not your arrogance is well-founded, we'll find out."
"And if I'm not the Dragonborn? You know we will both be killed if it turns out I am lying." he growls.
...
"That is a risk I'll have to take." she admits.
"And the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller? Who are you to impede the Dragonborn's education of the Thu'um? Is what you provide better than anything the Greybeards know? Or are you the one letting your arrogance rule your thinking?" he grouses.
"I'm one of the last Blades, Surtr, we follow the Dragonborn and give our lives to serve. I NEED to know whether or not I am following the right person... And don't speak of those old mountain hermits to me, would they know anything about the dragon burials? The prophecy? Or are they too busy meditating, high on their own self-importance!?"
Surtr grips her shoulder, actually causing her to grunt from the strength of it, "You can call yourself a 'Blade' all you want, but to me, you're just a sad tavern wench with a sex-dungeon. Think I'd be happy to have weak and useless lackeys like you? While you disrupt my training with the Greybeards you strong-arm me into traipsing across Skyirm for what, a test? To deal with a dragon I might not even be ready for!?" he lets her go and walks ahead, "I barely survived my last encounter, and that was with most of Whiterun, the Companions, and two Hammerfell Blade-Masters."
Surtr shakes his head with an almost humour expression on his face, "And what do I get this time? Minimal training with the Thu'um, and some decrepit slave of the Emperor. I have half the mind to head back to High Hrothgar and leave you to your doom."
"And let Kynegrove burn?" Delphine asks, mildly panicking at the chance of Surtr simply leaving.
"You mean, let it burn without me inside it? Yes."
"I... We wouldn't be alone in this. I contacted Kjeld and Ulfric's General, Galmar Stone-Fist. We should have a large force of Stormcloaks supporting us... They think they'll have the support of the Dragonborn."
...
Surtr grits his teeth as he turns to her, "I will go, but if you use my name again without my permission. I will hurl you off of the top of the Throat. Do you understand, wench?"
Delphine nods, "I do..."
"Good, because I won't repeat myself. Mark my words."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Surtr and Delphine reach Kynesgrove a couple days later, the former's patience with the Blade even less than before due to her incessant chatter during the journey. Yes, he hated the Thalmor as much as the next Nord, but using his feelings to try and garner his trust in such an obvious and artificial manner made him want to crack her head on the nearest stone.
The woman's sense of entitlement and arrogance didn't make sense to him. She was one of the last members of a group of dragon hunters that was extinguished by the Thalmor... Which, when you thought about it, didn't make sense... If they were supposedly strong enough to take on dragons, the Knife-ears wouldn't pose any threat to them... Perhaps they just followed the Emperor around and carried his luggage?
"Over there, they're waiting for us." Delphine says, pointing to the hastily constructed ugly-looking watch tower that'd been built on the outskirts of Kynesgrove.
"You mean, they're waiting for me." Surtr can't help but retort as he marches ahead. "You know what will happen to you should you be wrong about this, wench?"
Delphine frowns at the nickname that'd been thrust upon her, "Yes... But I am sure I know what's going on. The Dragonstone said it all."
"And how would an ancient tablet know when a dragon is going to be resurrected... I'm just looking forward to seeing you thrown in a cell."
"Halt! Who goes there!" A Stormcloak soldier exclaims as the duo approaches.
"Surtr of Stonehills, Dragonborn."
"Delphine of Riverwood."
"Ah, Galmar is waiting for you in the Braidwood inn!"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Aha! Surtr you big bastard! About time you showed your face!" a voice exclaims as the duo enter the inn.
"Ralof?" Surtr asks, spotting the grinning Nord, "I'm surprised you're still alive, to be honest." he remarks.
"Ah? What do you mean? I'm as spry as any man!"
"You might be, but I know only one who'd run into dragon fire to save a fellow prisoner..." Surtr smirks, giving Ralof a spartan handshake. "Maybe you just haven't gotten the chance to try again?"
Ralof chuckles, "Probably! I've taken some arrows to the chest, but dragon fire? Think the scars I get will be impressive?"
"Impressively burnt. I'm sure you remember those blackened bodies in Helgen..."
"Aye, looking like the rations Windhelm gives us." Ralof laughs before escorting Surtr further into the inn to where Galmar is, ignoring Delphine entirely.
"Ah, it's you lad... Dragonborn, huh? How's it feel? Any different to the rest of us 'peasants'?" Galmar asks as they approach, putting down his mug of ale.
Hope you bois liked the chap, if I missed anything please let me know. Thanks!
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