User blog:Psychomantis108/Story: Myths of Mundus: Dark Pilgrimage - Chapter 24: The Pilgrim's return

Arlas' eyes slowly opened as she awoke to immediately find herself wrapped toe to chin in a thick bed sheet. It was incredibly warm, even if it did restrict her movements completely.

The Bosmer didn't mind being practically mummified in the warm duvet, she knew that she wouldn't be able to move for some time yet. She simply turned her attention back up to the stone ceiling, sighing heavily as she did so, where on Nirn was she? Why was it so dim and cold on her face? In spite of the dull lighting and the frostie air, Arlas felt quite cozy from the slightly warm glow of the fire place.

Though Arlas was curious as to where she was, the Bosmer didn't seem to be in much of a hurry to leave the safety of her bed, that and she didn't feel like she had the strength to escape the duvet's coils. All that she would be able to do was lie motionless and wait. After waiting for half an hour, Arlas heard a loud clunk and a creak as the door to her room slowly opened and someone entered, carrying a tray, a fact given away by the chinking of the pots as her carer bumped into the door and rocked his tray.

They wandered over to her bed side, the sound of the soles of their shoes clapped and clopped, growing louder until they immediately stopped by her bed side.

The Nord glanced down to the supposedly sleeping Bosmer, looking mildly surprised as she was seemingly staring back at him.

"Oh, good, you're awake." He said, cheerily, turning to face her.

"We were hoping that you would be, the Healer said that the potions should waking up by now."

"Well... Looks like they were right..." Arlas replied, sounding incredibly drowsy still as she could still feel the potion's effects on her.

"Who are you people?" She asked, wearily, her eyes narrowed as she lifted her head and tried to get a better look at her surroundings. She appeared to be in a small room, which was nicely kept but ultimately felt creepy, she couldn't help but get the impression that she was underground as well, due to the cold air.

"Oh, forgive me... This must seem incredibly disorientating for you. I am Father Hermes, Healer of the Chapel in Bruma. You were brought here after you were found by Captain Kaith and his men, you and your friend were inches away from death."

"M-My friend? You mean Bologra?" Arlas asked, feeling like she was being a bit mean spirited not recognising Bologra as her friend as the guy had saved her life, multiple times, she just hadn't really had chance to think about him as such as she hadn't be able to rid herself of the Orc long enough to form and opinion on him over the past week, needless to say this felt like it was happening too fast to keep up with.

"The Orc, with one hand and a short fuse? Yes, he received some rather taxing injuries in the caves but he came back around quite quickly.

In fact, he was the first patient who we had trouble keeping him down, he seemed adamant that he left immediately... Something about an axe or something."

"G-Geoth's axe... We were sent to collect it, it's... Important." Arlas explained, sympathizing with the Nord's confusion.

"Where is he now!?"

"Gone, long gone, he stormed out ranting and raving about the Axe and whatnot, that was the last we saw of him." Hermes replied, with a shrug, he didn’t seem too fussed as it was hard to show any genuine concern, when your patient doesn’t even stop to ‘thank you’ for saving his life before rushing off.

“Did he say where he went?” Arlas asked, seeming incredibly concerned, though she didn’t know why. He could’ve waited for her, couldn’t he? Or did he want to get away? Was that the plan all along? Suddenly she didn’t feel so certain about the whole thing.

“I’m afraid not… I couldn’t get a word out of him, other than what I’ve told you. And… As nice as I’m sure that he is, I didn’t want to get in his way.”

“That’s… Pretty wise.” Arlas sighed, falling onto her back as she looked up to the ceiling, blinking a few times as she thought on it. Maybe Bologra was afraid that they were on a time limit, no one was watching the axe anymore, so anyone could take it. Maybe he wanted to get to it before some adventurers did. Maybe he’d be back soon…

But how long did he need? He could’ve done it in a day, was he in trouble? Or had he decided to return the axe to Lorwel on his own? Though it was disappointing, she honestly would have preferred to be able to wash her hands of this mess, it wasn’t her battle to begin with but considering how much effort she’d put into getting a hold of Geoth’s axe, she was hoping that she could see it through…

The Bosmer just sighed heavily, finding herself being startled by the loud ‘clunk’ of the door opening as metallic boots hastily stepped in.

“Hermes?” The Man asked, stepping in and revealing his yellow Bruma guardsman uniform, however, his was a different design to the other guards and he was seemingly wearing different materials, making his uniform seem a lot more formal and slender, his pauldrons were also made of steel instead of Iron.

“When you get a minute, could you look at Daner? The stupid arse picked at last week’s cut on his hand and made it bleed again.”

This prompted Hermes to sigh, knowing fully well that Daner was going to kick up one hell of a fuss as he healed his hand shut, like a lot of Nords, he was quite distrustful of magic, even magic that kept him alive.

“I’ll get to it in a bit, our guest has just woken up and I want to ensure her comfort before leaving her to fend for herself.”

“What, she’s up already?” The Captain asked, stepping inside and peering over the mountain of duvet she was buried under. Arlas was originally shocked by the Nord’s face suddenly appearing above her but she quickly frowned, growing defensive against his intrusive nature.

“Well, good morning little lady.” He said, rather cheerfully, obnoxiously so, as if he was aware of how awkward this was for the both of them but just didn’t care.

“How are we this morning?”

“Well, I feel like shit…” Arlas replied, honestly, her complaint came out as a slight grumble as she felt incredibly awkward.

“Ha, considering that you were stabbed in the heart, I consider it good that you can feel anything at all.” Hermes laughed, turning over to the Captain, folding his arms and giving him a smirk.

“I believe that you owe me five septims, Frost-Heart.”

“Oh, crap… I thought you’d forgotten!” The Captain snapped, begrudgingly reaching for his belt and drawing a small coin purse, he quickly tossed it to the Priest, who snatched it out of the air and pocketed it, much to Arlas’ amazement and disgust.

“W-Woah, you two had a bet going as to whether or not I would die in the night!?” The Acolyte snapped, though she was incredibly weak and unable to shout, she still managed to speak in a tone that made them feel uneasy.

“Erm… Well… Not exactly.” Frost-Heart began, glancing off to his left.

“You were in a bad way when they brought you in but Hermes said he’d have you out of bed by week’s end. I called bullshit and bet him five gold that he wouldn’t and now I’m gonna go thirsty tonight.”

“Oh, good, that makes me feel so much better…” Arlas sighed, falling lax as she stared back up at the ceiling, still feeling a slight stinging sensation in her chest.

“Don’t worry about the Captain, his idea of a winning horse has three legs and an ear missing.” Hermes smirked, getting an indignant ‘hey!’ in response.

“Hey, I had it on good authority that that horse had a chance, nobody told me that it only had three legs.”

“Of course, it wasn’t like the name ‘tripod’ was a clear giveaway.”

“Well, it could’ve been referring to something else…” Frost-Heart corrected him, giving him a knowing smirk, only to get a disapproving frown in response.

“How’d you know where we were?” Arlas asked, hoping to divert the conversation back to important things, rather than the Captain’s poor gambling skills. This got a look from the two of them as they turned to face eachother, not knowing who would be the best person to tell her. Hermes was on better terms with Arlas but being Guard Captain meant that breaking this kind of news came with the territory, in the end they stopped and agreed to tell her together, giving eachother a silent nod before turning their attention back to her.

“We found a Khajiit on the road, he was… badly hurt. One of the Ravagers attacked him, almost killed him there and then but we got there first, shot him down with a dozen silver arrows.”

“Khajiit!? You mean, Nair!? Is he okay!?”

The Captain didn’t have the words to answer that question, so he fell silent.

“He… Lasted for a minute or two but there wasn’t much that anyone could do for him, he told us about Crusader’s Rest, about you and your friend and… passed on.”

The news hit Arlas like a ton of bricks as she felt herself being hollowed, her limbs went weak as she felt herself feeling a dozen emotions at once, resulting in her breathing going deeper and a little more rapid as she fought back a flow of tears as she felt a wave of emotional and physical pain for her friend.

Hermes fell silent and looked back to the Captain, giving him a respectful nod, to indicate that they should probably be left alone. The Captain nodded respectfully and backed away, slowly turning back towards the door as he stepped out of it, returning to his station. Arlas wished that she could move but the cut on her chest prevented her from doing so, she was forced to lie in one position, motionless, on her back as she stared up at the blurring ceiling as the tears slowly slid down her face. The morning began like any other Imperial City morning, the son rose high in the east, turning the sky a fiery pink as night transitioned to day. Many merchants had already started their day, setting up their counters and making sure that their stock was checked and organised as the first shoppers began to rear their heads out of their front door.

As the first shoppers made their way through Talos Plaza, they found themselves coming face to face with a frightfully unexpected sight. Walking with a high pithed squeak in his wake as he dragged the war axe behind him, Bologra Blackbeard slowly stomped through the courtyard, moving slowly towards the Imperial Palace district.

He hadn’t washed since his encounter with Ymir and Vallina and thus he had a great deal of dried blood clinging to his chest. Not that he gave a damn how he looked… or smelled… he had a job to do, he had to get this stupid axe back to the White Gold Tower.

As he got half way there, a crowd had gathered around him, all of them seemed horrified at the ghastly sight of him, a number of overdramatic screams could be heard from the back ranks and the sound of muttering was almost deafening.

The Crowd was forced to disperse, however, as it was soon drowned out by the clatter of hurried grieves as the Imperial Guardsmen rushed on over towards the Orc, longswords drawn and ready for anything.

“Halt Orc!” One of the Guardsmen demanded, a senior officer, brandishing a warhamer.

“State your business in the Imperial City!”

Bologra came to a halt, his bayonetted hand hung loosely by his side, slowly swaying as he hung his head, panting as the three days of travelling, without a break or anything to eat caught up to him.

“Sir… Orb…” He panted, struggling to even speak at this point, due to the sheer exhaustion of his journey, dragging this axe, that was the size of a teenager along behind him.

“Sir… Who? Y-You mean Councillor Aube?” The Guard Captain grumbled, stroking the grey stubble on his chin.

“Bloody Hell, what has that boy gotten himself involved with now?” He uttered, shifting his gaze upwards towards their Orsimer guest.

Bologra’s head snapped up as he took a tighter hold of the Axe, fixing his eyes on the surrounding guardsmen with a look of intense rage.

“I’ve got his axe!” He announced, throwing it into the air, where it flew for a brief second before falling to the ground with a loud clattering sound, making he more dramatic members of his audience gasp in shock as he did so, a number of guardsmen even jumped back but managed to stay their hands, however, the Guard Captain didn’t even flinch.

“Huh… Never figured the councillor to be an axe man, looked more like a Quill weaver to me.” The Captain mocked, observing the axe from afar as he tried to figure out where it and its Orsimer wielder even came from. The axe looked ebony to him, though an older design, circa third era, maybe. He only knew, because there were a few old weapons in the armoury that resembled it.

“Tell me, what use does Councillor Soir Aube have for an old war axe?” The Captain asked, folding his arms and looking at Bologra quizzically, raising an eyebrow in the process.

“Dammit, couldn’t he have just told you idiots that I was coming? Look, it’s an enchanted axe, that is needed to stop an ancient daedra, who’s trapped inside a statue, from killing everyone inside the White Gold Tower!”

The Guard Captain gave Bologra a blank stare as if he had just spoken in gibberish, he honestly had no idea what to say or do in response to this as in his forty year career as a guardsman, he’d never heard anything quite so… insane in his life.

“Just ask your boy, Orb, he’ll tell you!” Bologra added, suddenly getting the impression that they found his story a little difficult to believe. The Captain fell silent and hung his head, sighing heavily, this Orc had been civil, for the most part and he knew Councillor Aube by name, if he was just a mere barbarian, it would be difficult for him to use such a ruse.

“Alright, I’ll take you to see Councillor Aube… But any funny business…” “Oh yeah, I’m sure you’ll make me real sorry…” Bologra grumbled, shaking his head with a smirk as he stepped forward, towards the tower, the Guard Captain looked back to his men and sighed heavily, shaking his head before following the Orsimer through. Bologra lead the guardsmen towards the White-Gold tower, making no attempt to deviate his course along the way. Needless to say, the unorthodox group got a few people to turn their heads, some even repeated the original reception that he got when he entered the city but all in all the Orc went unchallenged.

After walking for twenty minutes or so, they finally reached the Green Emperor way, unlike before Bologra had no intentions of stopping and continued to march on, immediately making his ascent as he went up the stairs. The Palace Guards tried to stop the Orc from entering but were quickly told to stand down by the Captain, who just wanted this over with. It was a good thing that he intervened as Bologra would have picked them up and thrown them to one side, if they stood in his way.

Bologra stepped inside, hitting the door as hard as he could with his forearm as he marched into the corridor, outside of the Elder Council chambers, again, the council wasn’t in session and so the chamber was empty.

“Where’s Orb?” Bologra asked, seeming quite indifferent about the whole thing as the Guard Captain joined him by his side, giving him a shrug.

“I am unsure, he’s probably getting ready or attending to some of his other duties.” The Guard Captain speculated, gently scratching what little hair he had left, still clinging to the back of his head.

“Still snoozin’ you mean…” Bologra grunted, fully turning his attention towards him.

“Fine, gimme my axe and I’ll deal with this myself.” He snapped, snatching the battle axe out of the clueless guardsman’s hand, holding it just below its head.

“Y-You can’t be serious, I’m not going to let you loose around this castle Orc, Daedra or no Daedra, in fact, there being a Daedra here is more of a reason not to let you go!”

“Oh, so now you believe me!?” The Orc growled, for him it was a case of too little too late, he wasn’t waiting on some poncy councillor to get out of bed, have a cup of coffee and to get his ass down here to stand there umming and erring.

“Calm yourself, I can send some of my men upstairs to retrieve him, we’ll have this whole situation taken care of within…”

“Within what? An hour? Screw that, I know exactly what needs to be done.”

“What ‘needs to be done’ is you calming down, I will not have you raising your voice in the Elder Council chambers or intimidating my guards!” The Captain snapped, taking a step closer to Bologra, aware of the fact that he was twice his size and dangerous but uncaring towards this fact.

“Oh, that so old man? Do you say that to every friggin’ mouse that comes by as well?”

“Yeah, there are a lot of mice, in the dungeon, where you’re going to end up if you don’t stop making a spectacle of yourself!”

“Gentlemen, please!” A voice called, a voice that echoed throughout the chamber, like the kind of voice that was meant for this chamber. Both the Guard Captain and Bologra looked over their shoulders, looking quite shocked at the sudden appearance of the man.

The Man appeared before them in dark blue ceremonial robes, adorned in a number of patterns. He was incredibly well dressed and he stood confidently before them, arms folded, giving them a stern look. Beside him stood a familiar face, Soir Aube stood by his side, looking incredibly sheepish.

“Y-Your majesty… F-Forgive me.” The Captain bumbled, falling down to his knee and bowing his head as the other members of the guard did the same.

“Pautius, it isn’t necessary… I was actually just wondering what the commotion was, it looked like it was getting very heated.”

Bologra looked somewhat surprised at the Emperor’s demeanour, he’d heard quite a bit about him over the years, learning that he was apparently a bit dim and had a very strange sense of humour. At one point his own advisor turned against him, out of fear that he’d run the empire into the ground. Ever since the Advisor’s arrest, things had been going into decline, many think that the man is just a mere figurehead and that his advisors are starting to run the show from behind the scenes.

Gods, Bologra hoped that that was the case…

Patuius rose to his feet, straightening his back as he stood up straight before them. If he knew that he was running into the Emperor today, he would’ve given his armour a good polishing, ordered his men to do the same, it doesn’t matter if he’s planning on turning you into a lizard, you still need to look your best for the Emperor.

“Hey Orb…” Bologra began, ignoring the old fart in front of him as he wanted ‘Orb’ to help him banish Lorwel and everything else was trivial at best.

“I found your axe.”

“So you have…” Soir uttered, taking a step forward and examining it, with a keen eye.

“It looks even more impressive in person… I so wish that we could have some time to study it, if the Emperor’s life wasn’t at risk…”

“I wouldn’t be here and you wouldn’t be paying me…” The Orc replied, shorty, getting Aube’s attention.

“I apologise, yes… We can get to work right now, i-is Arlas with you?”

“Nah, she got hurt at the Pilgrim’s Cave place, that Altmer bitch stabbed her in the heart. She’s sleeping it off, Healer said she’d be up in a week or so…” Bologra listed, assuming that Soir would know anything about what he was talking about.

“Right, so we ready to get moving?” “My friend, we are right behind you.” The Imperial Councillor said, with an encouraging smile. Bologra stepped into the basement, ducking his head under the low beam as he did so. It felt so strange that he was last here five days ago as it felt so much longer, it felt more like a weeks ago, due to the long, sleepless nights on the road.

As he stepped inside, he could feel the Daedra’s energy slowly radiating from the statue, probing his soul. The Orsimer seemed to ignore the sensation as he wouldn’t have to stand it for long if he just got this over with. With that attitude in mind, he approached the petrified figure of Jorane Lorwel, standing before him with his most prized possession.

Soir Aube, the Emperor, Patuius and his guards all stood patiently behind him, though Patius quickly decided that this wasn’t the place for the Emperor and began to usher him out of the chamber, so that he wouldn’t be exposed to the Daedra’s corruption.

“Huh… You not going to, Orb?” Bologra asked, glancing back over his shoulder to see that the Imperial was getting comfortable, rather than running away with his tail between his legs, like one would expect.

“Not exactly, no. The Emperor being susceptible to mind control is a dangerous prospect but nobody would notice or care if it happened to me.” He shrugged, slowly growing a smirk across his lips.

“That and my mind is stronger than the Emperor’s.”

“Heh… And here I thought that those lips were for kissing his ass.”

“Only when he’s here, now go on; let’s get this over with before that Daedra does any more damage.”

Bologra nodded in agreement, knowing that he couldn’t have said it better himself, he turned back to Lorwel’s statue and approached it, readying the axe in his right hand.

“Ah… My Pilgrims return, what joyous news!” He began, seeming delighted at the sight of Bologra or moreso the axe in his possession.

“Nah, just the one pilgrim, Arlas couldn’t make it… And we lost a man…”

“Minor sacrifices for a greater cause; place the axe in my hand!”

“Woah, if it wasn’t for Arlas your stupid axe wouldn’t be here! Now what about my hand?”

''“Your hand? Oh, yes, yes, I can restore it, once I am revived. Just give it to me!”''

Bologra couldn’t help but smirk, he felt like he was holding a chicken leg above a whining dog, jumping up on its hind legs and slobbering at his feet, it felt somewhat good.

“What, did you forget our deal? You are planning on keeping to it, right?”

“Surrender.

The.

Axe!” 

Every word hit everyone in the room like a heavy door, knocking the wind out of the soldiers and causing them to fall back, coughing heavily as they got a taste of Jorwell’s power, even Aube was on his hands and knees, coughing heavily.

Bologra, however, just stood before him, defiantly, glaring at the failed god with a look of venom, the likes of which he’d never given anyone else before.

“What did you just say to me?” He whispered, sounding like he was on the verge of using the axe in his hand, which he very much was.

“Do you want to be re-united with your hand or not!?”

“I’m not sure, are you even gonna give it me or are you just gonna kill me?” Bologra asked, again, sounding like a bull, ready to charge.

''“Ignorant fool, the axe is the key! With it I can unlock my hidden potential and be free of this retched form! Your hand can be restored, your comrades can be resurrected, you can command power beyond your wildest fantasies.''

All that is required is that you offer the axe to me.”

Bologra glanced down to the axe, seeming somewhat disinterested in it at this point, prompting him to take a tighter grip on it.

“You want it?” He asked, his tone dripping with bitterness as he began to lift it.

“Well here!”

With an almighty roar, Bologra swung the axe around and drove it down, slicing it through Lorwel’s stone hand, causing it to fall to the ground and shatter as Jorane’s malfested screams echoed throughout the chamber.

''“S-Stop! I command you! This disobedience can only lead to your downfall, cease this infernal rebellion at once!”''

This didn’t seem to appease Bologra, oddly enough, again, he gave an almighty roar as he swung Geoth’s axe horizontally, a great deal of effort, using only one hand but it was totally worth it as the swing shattered Lorwel’s stone head, sending tiny rock fragments flying across the room.

With his stone avatar seriously damaged, Lorwel’s body began to crack, with several minor and large crunch sounds, a red light began to pour out of his body, growing more and more intense until it filled the room. Soir Aube and his guards shielded themselves as the intensity of the light grew to solar levels before ending in an explosive finale as the Daedra’s statue shattered into a thousand rock fragments.

Within the blink of an eye it was over, Lorwel’s avatar had been completely destroyed and the entity inside was seemingly destroyed along with it. Bologra stood on the spot, panting heavily as he kept a tight grip of his axe, finally dropping it down to the ground as he rested his arm.

After a few seconds he shifted his head back up, keeping a murderous glare on the statue’s remains.

“Do not give orders to me!” He snapped, clutching his now free hand as he watched the last of the rocks roll away. No lesser Daedra was a match for him, no trinkets were worth his pride and he’d rather cast his own hand off than pledge it to the surface of a pretentious lesser Daedra.

Justice had been dealt, the Empire was now safe and most importantly, Bologra had bagged himself a Daedric Prince, shame that he couldn’t keep his stone head as a trophy.

“It is done…” Aube uttered, taking a step closer towards the rubble as his guards cautiously followed from behind, the Imperial knelt down to check the rock’s composition.

“It’s a shame that we couldn’t salvage the statue but so long as the Emperor is safe, it’s a worthy sacrifice.”

“Yeah, well it was an ugly statue anyway… You should get one of me, holding his ugly head up on my bayonet, that’d look great on your round table.” The Orsimer suggested, still sounding quite enraged from his encounter with the Daedra.

“Ha, you have good taste in statues, I’ll give you that.” Aube chuckled, rising to his feet with a fragment of the avatar still in his hand, which he continued to examine.

“What is it?” Bologra asked, mildly interested in what relevance the rocks had at this point.

“Hmm? Oh, it’s… still warm, there’s still some energy inside of it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah… I can feel it, pulsating in my hand…” Aube noted, pocketing the rock and giving the statue another look over.

“I should pass it onto the Mage’s Guild for further study.”

Aube turned to face Bologra fully at this point, ready to address his actions, though brass, they saved the White-Gold tower and possibly the Empire from Lorwel’s influence. He felt that was worthy of recognition and a reward.

“I believe that congratulations are in order, however, though I’d rather congratulate you both… Will Arlas be able to join us?”

Bologra shrugged, he didn’t ask but he assumed that she would, assumedly she would arrive in a few days, probably infuriated that Bologra ditched her.

“I think so, soon as she’s up on her feet, I imagine that she’d want to get down here and see if I screwed it up or not.”

Aube simply chuckled in response, wondering if those words truly reflected Arlas’ opinion on the Orc, though he somehow doubted it. He was rash, aggressive at times and took few things seriously but he was not incompetent.

“If she has such concerns, I am sure that they are unfounded…” He assured him, slowly turning him away from the collapsed statue as he lead him away.

“Come, I think that we’re all in need of a drink…

I certainly am.”