THOSE CRAZY CULT PEOPLE
It held two satchels. They were very tightly packed, designed to not be opened, but rather keep whatever was inside of them well-contained. I had never seen anything like them before, and decided to keep them for further study. |
Since I could go no further, I decided to turn back to the original chamber, and see what was in the north chamber. |
In one storeroom, I found a number of Dwemer cogs, and one small container. The container also used a powerful lock and boobytrap. Using the Ring of Keys and a telekinesis spell, I managed to open the box, finding another satchel in it. Keeping all three of them, I decided it was time to head back to the surface. |
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"Excuse me." I said, "I'm investigating this Eno Romari. What can you tell me about him?" "A lunatic, Eldorf Dragonmeal." she replied. "You'll often find him outside the Winged Guar, spouting his nonsense to passerby, and to the drunks stumbling out of the tavern." "What can you tell me about this cult of his?" I asked. "They are a suicide cult, plain and simple." she replied. "Their beliefs are destructive, heretical, and frightening to me. I don't know how my brother ever got involved with them! I'm beginning to see them all over the city, but you'll most often find them in Godsreach, outside the Winged Guar." "Well, what sort of things does he talk about?" I asked. |
"That sounds odd." I said. "What do they clean?" She shook her head. "It is a ritual suicide, Eldorf." she replied. "My brother was no fool, but he was a trusting person, always looking for someone or something to believe in. He thought he had found that in the End of Times." "And he had been found dead, I am told." I continued. "Yes," she replied. "My brother was found dead no long ago. I think it was poison, probably given to him by Eno Romari, and those sick End of Times lunatics." I thanked her for the information and headed back to Godsreach for the night. This Eno Romari sounded like a strange one. I would have to have a chat with him, as Almalexia had hinted. |
When I got up the next morning, I headed back out to the Winged Guar, and sure enough there he was, shouting something to the guard patrolling the walkway nearby. |
"Our beliefs are simple, dear friend." he spouted. "The blessed Tribunal, though once filled with glory, are no longer the gods they once were. As with the tides and Tamriel's moons, all cosmic powers will wax and wane. But when gods die, it creates ripples throughout the lands. The passing of the Three will be a prelude to the end of this era, and the beginning of the next. The followers of the End of Times are making ourselves ready for this to happen." "What do you mean by making yourselves ready?" I asked, trying to learn more about this strange cult. "We realize that the end of the era will bring many changes." he replied. "We believe that the gates of Oblivion will open, and the multitude of daedra will roam this world freely. Some might tell you that this is a good thing, that we are descended from the daedra, and it will be a return to the natural order of things. I know differently, though. the coming age will be a time of great horror." "You don't say." I replied, faining interest. Pumping him for information was easier than filling a waterskin from a waterfall. |
"The Daedra Princes are not our ancestors." he continued. "Nor are they our allies. They will wash over the land, destroying all that man and mer have built over these thousands of years. The only protection from this scourge will be our true ancestors that have gone before us and watch over us If I understood him correctly, his followers were dying to become the very ancestors that would do battle with these creatures from the realm of Oblivion. And yes, it was a bad pun. "We are a peaceful group," he continued, "dedicated to relieving the suffering all are feeling in these troubled times. I teach my followers the way to enlightenment, through understanding of what is happening in our world, and what is to come in the next. All of my people know the importance of preparedness for the coming troubles, and many are willing to make great sacrifice for our cause." "And this cleansing you spoke of earlier?" I asked. He smiled. "It is a glorious ritual, my friend." he said. "Our followers cleanse themselves of all of their troubles, all of their burdens here on this earth. They send themselves ahead to the ancestors, spreading our word, making ready for when we shall all join them in our fight against the daedric hordes." "Ok." I said, holding my hand up, "Thank you for your advice. I'll take it under consideration." He gave me a look of a salesman that thought he had a fish on the hook, the big one that got away. There was no way I'd become someone's ancestor ghost - not for a long, long time, anyway. |
Since I had been the one to destroy the Tribunal's source of god-like powers at Red Mountain, I could understand that the Tribunal was losing their powers, but honestly: The Gates of Oblivion opening up? Really! This guy was certifiable. |
I told her about the cult, about how they felt that with the Heart of Lorkhan destroyed, that the Tribunal was losing their powers, and were on the wane. Being the living goddesses she was, naturally she accepted the information with quiet dignity and grace. |
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I had no idea of how I was going to pull this one off. I had a very strong desire to use the return scroll, head back to Solstheim Castle, and forget this mess. Still, I wanted to see this device for myself. Also, doing this task just might put and end to this End of Times cult. I headed back down the ladder to the Dwemer base I had just investigated and cleaned out. |
I checked and re-checked the rooms I had been in earlier, looking for a door that I might have missed, a chamber with a hidden entrance in it, but there was no such thing to be found. I finally made my way back to the dead-end I had stopped at before. |
Looking through the crack, I could see a door behind the rocks. That had to be the way to the object I needed to activate. But how to get through these rocks? |
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COMING UP: HOW TO GET THROUGH A ROCKSLIDE