Three Days After a guard is found dead in solitude.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(do note that only Kai would be able to see or hear Mephala's aspect here.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Meanwhile, Lifa still travels the dreamworld, taking the role of the assassin Argonian.

 

This section is narrated. Written by the assassin during the time of the Argonian invasion.

 

 

Three days after I sabotaged the lighthouse I saw an Argonian swim underwater to the island with the ruined fort. This was all the conformation I needed to infiltrate and sabotage any functioning weapon storage or manufacture. What stood before me on the island was a Dwarven ruin of Resdayn craft.

 

 

 

The defenses were specters and automatons, as is usual in this sort of ruin. Both die quickly with well placed strikes in vulnerable places that I will explain in coming chapters fully.

 

 

 

What was different in this ruin is it seemed to still seemed to have a fully functioning automated forge. I have anticipated this and ran into them before. I have even committed murder in them before. First heat distribution units need to be sabotaged. I did this using some of the stored weapons in several rooms.

 

 

 

 

As I continued deeper into the ruin some of the stone had collapsed into the vastness of the ruin opening my eyes to yet deeper chasms underneath. As one of these chasms opened up the lighting began to look much more deliberate. Like it was placed there not by the Dwemer when the ruin was built, but more recently. My target is Likely close.

 

 

 

 

In one of the next rooms three pressurized oil barrels lay before me. They are used to create blasts of heat. They can be sabotaged but have a fail-safe that after seven minutes they release the pressure and seal themselves. The release of pressure can force them to cease operation, however if the rise in pressure is caused by a fire. This also creates a massive burst of fire in the room they are in after the seven minutes are up.

 

 

I choose the messy option, this time.

 

 

 

My target, a Dunmer man clad in Dwarven armor. Carries a large sword with both hands, also of Dwarven make. Fighting a man in heavy armor with nothing but a dagger seems like a fools errand, but this is not the case. The bulk of heavy armor is not for the feint of heart, and even the most skilled fighters tire quickly. Not to mention wearing a full helmet obscures the vision. This makes it harder to land hits without expending more energy to attack wildly. It is a game of chance at that point, and a skilled combatant like myself takes full advantage by using strikes on joints to dent and bend metal to make movement even harder.

 

 

 

 

 

It is a short time before my target succumbs to this same strategy that I have used countless time on those hiding within a metal tomb. This was the first time I heard him speak. He said something to the tune of, “I hope I at least I knew someone would eventually come for me, I just hope I put up a good fight.” At this remark I commended him as a warrior of class, and showed him the honorable writ of execution.

 

 

 

 

 

 

As he looked at it, he spoke a phrase that I cannot pronounce and I will not try and spell it. I thought it was a prayer, to whatever false god he believed.

 

 

What happened next was astonishing. He began moving in unimaginable ways that defied nature. In this moment he had his sword at my body and I did the unthinkable. I dropped my dagger and yielded. Satisfied with my yield, the man took off his helmet and the words he spoke to me are what is etched in my mind screaming even louder than the words of Mephala.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Behold, chronomancy, the manipulation of time. It took me a lifetime to learn even that small incantation. Now as a warrior, I will let you choose your death.”

 

 

I told him I wanted to die on the bank of the ocean among the kreshweed, which I love. He agreed to this request and I walked as he followed me out of the steam tunnels where we made battle. But I knew something he did not know.

 

 

 

The seven minutes were almost up. As I passed the threshold the room erupted in fire until the only thing left was an empty husk where the most interesting person I had ever killed once was.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I spent the next seven years trying to learn anything I could about the incantation he spoke to no avail. The war soon ended and I was never called to kill again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So kind of a double entry, but I didn't want to be trashy and double post. Also The conflagration theme is true in both stories here.

 

Sorry if parts of the story got confusing, if there is something I didn't explain well enough fell free to ask.