Chapter 466: Stros M'kai

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"We have been expecting you, Jon Dare." Said Priestess Aranea, Prophet of Azura.

"Long time no see, Aranea. You sure look skinny, Azura must have been sending you on too many errands lately. How are things, woman?" Jon bypassed formalities, held Aranea by the shoulders and hugged her.

She felt strange and uncomfortable but when Jon let her go, she was already out of breath.

"Sorry, a bit excited to see you. Is there any update on my Labour? A new riddle? A mystery? Or you finally are going bo point me to a spot where smash some skulls." Jon asked.

Behind him, the other three crawled out of the carriage and Mirren started throwing up. Jon looked back and nodded.

"They seem to be sky-sick. Three days of flying are hard indeed. Do you have any mint, Aranea?"

She sighed and massaged her temples remembering how mind consuming it is to deal with Jon.

"The situation is more complicated than it should be. Lady Azura has directed me here with a set of tasks for you, Jon Dare." Aranea said.

"Okay okay. I'm all ears."

"Escort me to Saintsport. The Prophetess of Boethiah is waiting for us over there." She said.

"... Excuse me." Isha stood up supporting herself on her spear after being dizzy from Xikil's terrible landing.

"Rest now, Isha." Jon gave her a hand.

"No." She refused and walked to Aranea, "You, tell me what you know. What is going on with Zain and why is he acting like that?"

It was the first time she met someone connected to the Daedra after she found out her brother was alive. This was her first chance to inquire about what's going on.

"The Maiden of Bitter Mercy… so it is you." Aranea glanced at the spear Isha had and made a grim face, "Thanks to the investigation conducted by Jon Dare, we found out that your brother is also Labouring for Clavicus Vile as soon as you did. Right now, we don't know how much he is involved with the Worm Cult or what is their goal. The only one who knows more than us is the Prophetess of Boethiah currently in Saintsport. She was doing a Divination for a year about this case."

Aranea seemed serious about what she said. The party of four understood that they are jumping right in the middle of action after that unsettling flight.

"I understand." Jon said.

He looked at the sky and narrowed his eyes. The horizon was abnormally bleak.

"Aranea, what do you know?" He asked.

She stood beside him looking at the murky sky.

"It all started five days ago…"

Five days ago on the 3rd of Rain's Hand (April), Aranea was teleported by Azura's power to Hammerfell. It was a normal day until the sky started to darken abnormally and fear struck the hearts of people.

Not knowing why or how, the undead sightings started to increase dramatically to the point where some villages were raided by Undead and Necromancers. Those who know history recalled the event when the sky darkened in gloom just like that and dated it to the years of the Redguard Resistance led by the Hero Cyrus against Tiber Septim. This was the Soul Snare spell. A spell that can take the souls of any dead and trap it by the caster's wish.

On the same day, the Order of Arkay and the Citadel of Ebonarm sent out their fighting priests and Battlelords to defend the lands from the threat of Necromancers. All the cities and towns closed their doors and fortified their walls.

The raids increased by each day and the situation became serious. Some tried to track the source of the Soul Snare spell to Stros M'kai, some parts in the Alik'r Desert, near Sentinel and some other places but no one managed to survive these errands.

Even the Empire moved the Seventh Legion under the command of a General to secure the borders.

Yesterday, most of the connection means between major cities were cut as the Soul Snare matrix hindered many Magics that rely on mental connection such as Conjuration, Telepathy and Teleportation.

In short, the situation is dire.

"... Right now, we cooperated with some factions to fend off the Necromancers from some places but the bigger picture is not looking good."

"I see." Jon nodded, "I am not certain what goal does Zain have but he is serving both the Worm Cult and Clavicus Vile. Isha, I am sorry but we have a bigger hurdle than we anticipated."

"It's okay. I am just going to help… but when my brother shows up, leave him to me." She said.

"Are you sure?" Mirren asked.

"We will support you." Miranda insisted.

"Just leave him to me. I must confirm something." She said.

"It's alright. We will only watch your back." Jon patted her shoulder and sighed.

He then looked at his companions and a sense of guilt overtook him. They were all Labourers and did a lot to rid themselves of the Daedra's dominance but now they are dragged back to his Labours.

"Guys, this is my Labour. I am sorry to drag you into this so if you can just find a place to rest, I'll go sort things out, I am really…"

"We're doing this too." Mirren spoke out.

"Yes. We have already decided to help you out before we even leave Morrowind." Miranda said.

Isha looked at Jon and sighed.

"And I can't simply walk out of this one." She said.

Jon looked solemn and nodded as he looked away.

"Now that I think about it, whatever I am dragging you in now is nothing compared to what is going to happen a year from now." Jon said and smiled.

"Fuck off, man!" Mirren didn't feel good about the way Jon smiled.

Now as his mood improved, Jon turned to Aranea.

"What is the plan?" He asked.

"I don't need a vision from Lady Azura to tell you. Break the Soul Snare and Stop Zain somehow." She said.

"Sounds simple but I was asking about what should we do now?"

"Right… I am heading to Saintsport Village nearby. The vision led me here to meet you but we need to start from somewhere. Escort me to Saintsport, rest for a few hours, meet Boethiah's Prophetess then see how she directs us." Aranea said and turned around for her mule that was tied nearby.

"Oh, by the way." She stopped and looked for Jon, "The road to Saintsport is filled with undead and Necromancers. Prepare to fight."

Jon and the others looked at each other and nodded.

"A team fight. What's the formation?" Mirren asked.

"Jon will handle the numbers as usual." Isha said.

"No problem. You will be the rearguard." Jon said.

"Indeed."

"My brother will kill the strong enemies and I will scout." Miranda finished the formation.

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"I feel good about this." Jon said and checked his options through the staff. "I can barely summon anything from Oblivion but Necromancy is running wild."

He waved his staff in a cool way and the void started distorting everywhere.

Almost a 100 Wrathmen appeared and gathered around Jon. He wasn't using [Wrath] early on to not attract bad attention.

"You will use Necromancy?"

"And Dark Magic. I have learned a lot of bad-guy-spells from the tomes I looted in the Ghost World."

"Looking forward to it."

***

The gloomy sky over Hammerfell didn't spare even a lonely island such as Stros M'kai. This darkness brought about fear and undead in every part of the island.

Small villages around the island were wiped from existence. Armies would loot and raid but the undead only kill and kill and kill. Dead children, dead women, dead elderly and dead men were all gathered in piles for the Necromancers to practice on.

The Worm Cult has officially started a full-on attack at Hammerfell.

In a tiny agricultural village on the road to Saintsport, a Cult Officer gathered some Acolytes in the center of the village to see how their practice is going.

"Listen, you mutts. To reach a good position in the cult you need to control not only many undead but also good ones. Worm Zombies are good but you need to master the formula to create them out of dead bodies and control as much as you can." The Officer said.

The Acolytes around him nodded.

"Good. As an officer, I can control up to 25 undead perfectly. If I put more effort, I can even reach 40."

"Wow!"

"40?"

"Amazing!"

The Acolytes were taken aback by their boastful superior.

"Now now, no need to be shocked. Others can do better. The important thing is to practice. See these bodies? Extract the Skeletons, make Worm Zombies or Flesh Atronachs for all I care about, the important thing is to control as much as you can. Now get to work!" He said.

The Acolytes were excited to make good undead out of these corpses of villagers. They can have nice lives once they reach the rank of their Officer in charge. The best of those Acolytes can control up to 10 Undead after all.

Seeing the Acolytes work hard, the officer retreated to a house he is stationed in. It has been years since he joined the cult but a lot of times has passed and he still wasn't allowed to summon a single Undead from the realms of Lord Mannimarco. He always heard and dreamt about having one of those custom-made undead but he never got the qualifications to command one and was left to train those mediocre acolytes.

Things were miserable but he had a firm belief that maybe… just maybe… one day, a good Acolyte will rise among his group and help him get some rewards and benefits to boost his standing in the Cult. And lo and behold, this moment was right in front of him.

It was a certain undead roaming the village they were in. This Undead was as what he can describe as a product of quality.

Finally, he got his hands on a talent.

"Wait! Stop! Who did this? Who made that undead?" He ran out of the house shouting as soon as he spotted that undead.

It had some air to it, looking all warrior-like, wearing old armor and holding a big axe. Its bones glowed in violet hue but that wasn't anything to bother with right now. The one who made such a powerful undead a genius without any doubts.

"Which one of you made this?" The officer asked his Acolytes who looked clueless.

"We never saw such an undead before so we thought it is yours, Sir." An Acolyte replied.

"What? No, it is not mine." The Officer denied and turned to the Undead behind him.

"What are you?" He looked closer then started to check the undead in front of him.

But something happened.

In one move, the undead moved its Axe and beheaded the man.

Silence!

Utter silence took over the Acolytes as soon as they looked behind that undead.

There was a large number from the same type of undead marching to the village from the south. More from the west, some from the east. The Acolytes were terrified as they looked to the north only to see one man in full Ebony armor.

He walked towards them alone.

"Good day. I was wondering if I can have some directions to Saintsport Village." He spoke.

Hearing the man, the shivering acolytes only pointed to the northeast.

"Oh! Thank you for your kindness aaaand… sorry about your friend." The man said and turned to walk away but then he paused and turned to them again.

"Almost forgot, you are cult scum. I have to kill you." He said raising up his staff.

"Sorry."

His staff descended on the ground sending a magic wave beneath their feet. By the next second, spikes of bone rose up from the ground.

[Boneyard].

Most of the Acolytes forfeited their lives to this spell. Those who survived started running around.

"Nope. You're not leaving."

Jon swung his staff to the side with a death scythe emerging from it harvesting the lives of every Acolyte on the range of five meters.

[Grim Scythe].

Two Acolytes remained, one fell on his ass wetting himself and the other ran towards Jon with a knife.

Jon simply cast a spell that shot out a skull towards the attacking acolyte and killed him on the spot.

[Bone Spirit].

The last acolyte was crying and begging for his life but Jon felt annoyed by him.

"Don't worry, you will talk and you will die. I don't play with my prey."

Jon said taking out [Lust].

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