And you guys thought I had forgot, eh?
I know, I know, it's been almost two months, but I swear, it was the holiday season. Consider this my sabbatical, from which I emerge refreshed and (hopefully) faster.
Why did the Nerevarine go to Akavir? He was looking for something that he couldn't find, good sir. I have a nice story somewhere around here by one Bic that outlines it very nicely, although perhaps not canon.
Much ado about nothing - here you are, the next part
Bones and Ashes
As a submission for the Main Quest
of the Akavir Mod
by Cogidubnus
Bones and Ashes
There are few places that a person would want to avoid more than the Ka Po' Tun City of Bones. Although, the reasons are less than obvious. No thugs or tollmen patrol it's streets, nor, despite the name, do the angry undead. The City of Bones is dangerous because of what is underneath it's streets: the dumping grounds for the Ka Po' Tun dead are a great attractant to carrion eaters, the jackals and crows of Akavir, and though the dead do not walk it's streets, underneath the soil only strange and dark ritual keep the dead from walking the surface. Two Ka Po' Tun live here, the gravekeepers of this City of the Dead, who subsist in that barren place by consuming the jackals that feed on the dead there.
Of course, you know nothing of this as you stare at the strangely grey city, tucked between the mountains. You've traveled for days to get here, and battled creatures and men who smelled of creatures for your troubles. This city looks strangely quiet from your vantage point, but you've traveled a long time, and are in desperate need of a soft bed and a bath. You trek down the mountain path and towards the city, already tasting the fiery Ka Po' cuisine.
As you get close to the city, you notice that there are no men guarding the walls, and that no-one traverses the opened gates. You reach for your sword and run towards the city, thinking bandits, or snakemen had perhaps raided or destroyed the inhabitants. Upon reaching the gate, you stop and slowly remove your hand from the blade. There are no bodies here, no burning houses or any signs of battle. Just, emptiness. Taverns, houses, and shops, all empty and desolate as the mountainside you just came down from. You take a tentative step inside, and look around for some kind of ambush.
Is there anyone who really wanted to attack you anyway? As far as you knew, only the Shopkeeper had known about your visit here...you grimace, and draw your blade. Better safe than sorry, you think to yourself. Whomever had written that letter to you had made it quite clear that you would find the Nerevarine here...
* * *
Along the same path, the two gravekeepers watch the newcomer fumble about a bit in the street before ducking into an alley. They both exchange sideways looks, and begin to follow him. Following the grey-cloaked tiger-men are a group of jackals, who walk behind them quietly and eerily, seemingly aware of what their masters asked of them.
The two watch him for some time. Whatever this stranger was doing in the City, he was not allowed ? none were allowed, not even the King himself. The dead were left at the gate, and they would bring them to the pit, where they would be cleansed for the afterlife. He trespassed on holy ground, and would die. They motioned grey-robed hands at him, and the first growls finally came forth from the dogs. Not in anticipation of meat, for they did not eat that which was alive: they merely enjoyed the addition to the dead. They charged at the stranger, who was now inspecting the sign above a long-abandoned shop, and leapt for his throat.
As you walk through the city, and notice the incredible amount of death-themed symbols throughout the city, you begin to wonder if perhaps coming here was not a good thing at all. You've stopped at a particular shop, with a sign emblazoned ?Death's Joke Book?, when you hear a bloodcurdling growl from behind you. Without thinking or looking you turn and cut, and save yourself from a very bloody death ? your blade had knocked a black dog of some sort to the ground before it had the chance to sever the nerves in your neck. You try and make sense of the situation, and jump back just in time to keep another one from savaging your leg. Your back hits the wall of the shop, and you begin swinging blindly, trying to knock the black shapes back and away from you. ?Jackals? you whisper as your blade cuts the brains out of one. You silently congratulate yourself for deciding to buy an Akaviri blade, and moments later realize that your blade is cutting air. You pause and take the scene in ? at least five or six of the dogs lay dead in front of you, mostly by virtue of the keen edge on your blade. You grimace and step over the bodies. Time to leave town, you think.
As you turn to walk down the street, you gasp as fire suddenly travels up your leg, and knocks you to the ground. Something dark and grey is on top of you, and you almost vomit as the pain in your leg grows worse. He's pulling the knife out, you think, and panicking, you activate the ring on your left finger, the one you bought from the shopkeeper back in the Tsaesci territories. A fireball blooms out from under you, sending you flying upwards, unaffected by the fire but still subject to the force of the ground exploding beneath you. You take a hard landing, and your head hits a rock, knocking you out cold. It's the last thing you see that day.
* * *
The Warlock smiles as his latest toy lets out a soulrending scream. He'd found this monkey a few days ago, and had been having quite some fun with him since. He was playing a game with him right now, a kind 'keep-away'. He was controlling a knife from the balcony, and sending it to chase the monkey around a kind of obstacle course, and was seeing how long the monkey could 'keep away' from the knife. Of course, it wasn't quite fair, as he'd blinded the monkey's eyes with a wire on the first day, but so far the creature was doing a very good job of getting stabbed. Which was all the Warlock really wanted anyway. He idly tapped his finger and tried to decide on another target...perhaps he'd take the hand this time? He rolled his eyes as the monkey clutched it's ruined face. It wasn't as if he had really needed a nose, anyway...
The Warlock jumps and turns as a golden light flares from behind him, and scowls when he recognizes the Tiger-God...and one of his lackeys or some such. His minion was obviously mind-controlled, his eyes characteristically dead and flat. The Warlock made a grand bow with all of his arms, in a kind of mocking salute to the Dragon-God.
?And what can I do for you today, O mighty one?? He barely contained a laugh. ?Have you forgotten already that six more stand behind me?? He turned and ignored the dragon. ?State your business, before my toy bleeds out. Monkey's are hard to find in these parts.? He twiddled his thumb and the knife jumped to respond, sliding fluidly and silently towards the simians hand, already somewhat slack with it's owners dizziness.
?But of course, hedgemage, wizard of no real importance.? the tiger god said, his golden eyes glowing with a hidden mirth. ?Pompous ass of a snake. I no longer concern myself with your allies.? Tosh Raka grinned as the mage turned with real fear in his eyes, and then laughed, trying to mask his fear. ?You would not dare ? you care too much for your 'power' to risk the wrath of all the Lords!? The mage laughed, a little more sure of himself. ?You're too smart for that. You wouldn't dare kill me.? He said, trying to make himself sure of those words. It was true, the 7 were more powerful than the tiger god, but in that place, right then, Tosh Raka could easily kill him. Previously, he had shown the good sense to let the 7 bicker among themselves. ?Again, I care not about your 'allies', false one. Your end has come, from across the sea.? Tosh Raka nodded to his minion, who drew a glimmering knife of gold from his belt with a golden glove, and used yet another gloved hand to pick up the hammer slung across his back. The Warlock did not recognize these are artifacts, but was taking no chances. He immediate made the gesture for a orb of frost and jumped from the balcony to the arena below.
He did not recognize the artifacts for a good reason ? it could be said they were the first relics made by the tiger-god, and they held a power fueled by his divine nature. The secrets that Nerevar's mind had held were intriguing, but none were so interesting as a pocket that even Nerevar was not aware of, made by yet another divine force. It was a kind of instruction manual, but it was so much more ? it was a veritable schematic for three devices. In this packet of information, memory, and sensation, Tosh Raka had found the warp and weave of three incredible items, designed to take the divinity from a divine source and give it to the wielder. There were errors in the design, of course, as the nature of the divine was inscrutable for mortals, but Tosh Raka had made his own improvements. He had looked for the original tools amongst Nerevar's belongings, but the were not there, probably left across the sea. It was no matter, as Tosh Raka had made his own. These tools of Tosh Raka would be the undoing of the Tsaesci Lords, usurpers of what was rightfully the heirs of the Dragons.
Nerevar himself, however, was strangely necessary to the equation. He had been...altered, by this other divine force, to be able to use the tools, in a way that Tosh Raka could not fathom. He was certain he could discern what exactly had been done to him with enough time, but time he did not have. Nerevar was as fine a tool as he could have asked for anyway ? a better warrior than any he had ever seen, even among his own people. He watched and waited to see how Nerevar would fare against the Lord.
Nerevar's mind was chained, but wonderfully quick, and had all the cunning he had possessed in freedom. He cast his spell of magical immunity, draining him of his magic temporarily but leaving all magic harmless against him for a half-minute, and charged the retreating mage. The spells flung at him slid off harmlessly, and he closed the distance fairly quickly. The Warlock tried to attack him hand-to-hand, and the multiple arms almost threw Nerevar off, but he manged to twist one of the arms in front of the others, keeping them at bay for a moment, and giving him just enough time to slam his hammer into the creature's back. The Warlock screamed as the monkey had just moments before. Lorkhan's Heart had not been alive, but the Warlock was, and the hammer had just made the divine power in him resonate violently, literally shaking his soul, dropping him to his knees. While he was on his knees, it was a simple matter to stab his heart with the knife: as he did so, the scream became otherworldly. His voice took on a resonant, doubled tone, and the glow began to pour from his every orifice. Nerevar stepped back, his work done. The glow traveled to the knife in his hands, and up the glove, making it tinge a strange blue.
It was over very quickly. The glow escaped from the Warlock and into the glove, and the former Lord collapsed into dust, his divine nature stripped and his thousand-year-old, mortal body decomposing almost instantly. Tosh Raka stepped from behind Nerevar and patted his pet affectionately.
?Very well done.? He said before removing the glove from Nerevar's arm, and placing it on his own. The glow subsided, and Tosh Raka's eyes glowed yet more brilliant. He grinned, and put a hand on his servant as they teleported out of the now-empty arena, and back to his palace.