[center][h3]A nightmare revisited[/h3]
[sub]A collaboration of [@Peik] & MiddleEarthRoze[/sub][/center]

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[i]"Thank S'rendarr it is summer."[/i] The Khajiit thought to himself as he gazed up towards the tower. Winter could be hard enough in most places, but in Skyrim it became especially treacherous. In such a northernly town like Dawnstar, the snow drifts and potential blizzards would have made his trek up the snowy mountain nigh on impossible. Not to mention the monsters who flourished in the snowy tundra-lands. Still, even in warmer weather the hike towards - and exploration - of the Tower of the Dawn was no small task for the injured Rhasha'Dar.

Still walking along the path slowly, Rhasha shuddered lightly as his fur suddenly stood up on end. A strange experience, but one that had happened before - not in the face of an enemy, but a comrade. 

"Marcel!" The sudden appearance of the Breton man wasn't quite as jarring as their first meeting, perhaps due to the possibility that he could help Rhasha. "We haven't spoken for a while; how have you fared since our battle at Nightgate Inn?" He seemed to recall seeing Marcel almost completely covered in blood, but through the haziness brought on by his own injuries, Rhasha had not had the chance to learn if he was hurt or not.

Whistling to himself as he picked berries by some bushes on the side of the trail, the Breton was quite startled by the sudden exclamation of his name. From his reaction one could guess that midst the vivid, if not untamed greenery of Skyrim’s forests, the last thing Marcel had expected to come face-to-face with was a giant cat... man… who talked. It took the man a moment to shake himself out of his sheltered and homogeneous childhood memories and realize that he wasn’t in his parents’ garden, and that he was not facing down a tiger but just a Khajiit.

''Oh, hello,'' Marcel replied to the familiar fellow, glancing down occasionally at the berries and the thistles he’d gathered in the woven hand basket. ''I’ve been… fine, really, fine. I’ve been just gathering, uh, information,'' he excused. Could he really make anything that would help the investigation with the berries he’d been picking? Better slip out of it. ''And, well, failing. So I just took up something I’m more competent at instead,'' he continued, showing the Khajiit his basket.

''So, what have you been doing,?'' He asked, eager to get on the questioning side.

Rhasha smiled at Marcel's reply - at least the man was being honest. And picking berries had never been a pointless task considering the usefulness of the various fruits. Potions, poisons, salves... or simply just a treat to eat. What with their current situation however, the Khajiit wondered if Marcel would be interested in abandoning this task for a more murder-investigating one.

"This one hasn't done all that much, he must admit. However, some possibly useful information has been dug up." Turning slightly, Rhasha'Dar motioned towards the tower in the distance, still partially obscured by the low-hanging cloud. "The Tower of the Dawn has been abandoned for several years now; This one believed it could make for a hiding place for our elusive murderer. It offers protection, as the townspeople seem too superstitious to approach it; one would also have a decent view of the town from the top, which could be how the murderer picks his victims." Rhasha paused, looking back to Marcel with a shrug. "That is, if this one's hunch is correct. It may just be a crumbling old building, but it's worth a look. Would you care to accompany Rhasha?" 

While Marcel had been enjoying his latest task, it would have been impolite to refuse the Khajiit’s request for the Breton to accompany him. Not only that, but as a recently contracted member of the Company, it could cause even bigger problems down the line. And, truth be told, he felt it rather cruel to leave off and investigate the tower alone. He had heard some unsettling rumors about the place, the kind of rumors that kept a Witch Hunter’s pocket full.

''Ah, of course, of course, I would be glad. It would not be a hospitable thing to let you go there alone now, would it? Plus, I myself have heard some… bad things about the place. Even if it does not keep the one we’re looking for, it may hold worse secrets.'' Marcel said, grabbing the basket off the ground and walking back on the road next to the Khajiit.

''Back in High Rock there are so many half-abandoned castles you would be surprised. And so many of them go unattended and without proper protection, often bad things take hold in them where torches do not shed light,'' Marcel said as he walked. ''I had once visited a castle where a giant slug lived in its storage. Its owner was too poor to hire someone to clear it out, so the man had simply barred all entrances in there. It was a rather interesting creature, and nobody had bothered to slay it back then, since it was able to do no harm. It was only after when a landslide tore down a portion of the storage walls did the slug manage to get out and attack cattle in the fields below. Thankfully a charitable Baron set up a bounty for the beast and a group of men burnt it to death.''

Marcel bobbed his head forward after the end of the story, looking at the Khajiit with a heartfelt, faint smile. ''Interesting story, is it not?''

The expression of Rhasha's face was wonder mixed with a touch of disbelief and revulsion, as Marcel recounted his tale of High Rock's carniverous slug monster. While he liked to believe he was an open-minded fellow, Rhasha always took stories of strange beasts with a pinch of salt - living in the caravans, one always heard fantastical tales of beasts and monsters, both real and very made up. This slug certainly sounded like one of them, but then again, if the Ice Demons could exist, why not a giant slug?

"Hm... yes, interesting. This is one is glad all it managed to harm was animals." Rhasha replied somewhat haltingly, his mind drifting back to what Marcel had said previously. "While this one is certain you have a trove of interesting stories and their creatures, Rhasha would like to hear more of what you know of this tower. The innkeeper was glad to drop the subject, so Rhasha could not find out as much information as he would have preferred. Something to do with a plague of nightmares, but that is it." Marcel seemed like the kind of person who would know the dark histories of old forts and castles, even in a land foreign to him.

''Ah, well, I’m glad you like the story,'' Marcel replied, smiling intently. ''I’ve got plenty like it, so our trek should be rather entertaining. But, back to topic, you want to know of the tower and nightmares, hmm…'' Marcel rubbed his bearded chin with his free hand as he gathered his thoughts together. Eventually, he found a place to start, and began speaking.

''You see, I’ve been told by an acquaintance that this place was once frequented by Daedric Cultists. Now, some of them are not all that bad and in fact one of them inducted me as an honorary member a few years ago, but what matters is which Prince they are worshipping, and also how. Now, I think this place was a gathering ground for cultists of Vaermina… I think, I think remember my acquaintance mentioning that, I am not sure, but since you speak of nightmares, I guess it must be true,'' Marcel said with a somewhat solemn tone. 

''Just hope that we’re right and it doesn’t have anything to do with Molag Bal. Trust me on that matter,'' Marcel said in a more reassuring tone. 

When it came to Daedric Princes, Rhasha'Dar was hardly an expert. He'd met with plenty of people who had their fair share of stories about Daedra, and of course he had read books telling tales of their actions - usually to the detriment of any poor mortal in their vicinity. As for their particular domains, again, Rhasha wasn't very well-versed, though knew about a handful of them. Mehrunes Dagon was something to do with destruction (The Oblivion Crisis two centuries ago made sure he remembered that), Hircine was linked with hunting and Werewolves, and Vaermina clearly was to do with dreams and nightmares. He wasn't entirely sure what Molag Bal was the Daedric Prince of, but clearly, it wasn't anything good.

"We Khajiit worship some Daedric Princes. That is not how we see them of course, but as Khajiiti deities. There is also some crossover with the Nine Divines.  Alkosh and S'rendarr to us would be Akatosh and Stendarr to you. Then we have Azurah, Sheggorath, Hircine, Sangiin and Namiira - you can no doubt guess who their counterparts are amongst the Daedric Princes." As he rattled off the names of the various Gods of his people, his mind once again drifted to Azurah. He still felt guilty at leaving behind his pendant, but after some contemplation, realised it was more the sentimental value of it that he missed, rather than the token of his Goddess. It had been a gift from his parents, and every member in his family had one. With it now gone, Rhasha felt apart from his family... this particular chain of thought was not helping in his deliberations on whether to go back home or not.

"Is there a particular deity that you worship, Marcel?" Rhasha asked quickly, not wanting to get mired down in his homesick thoughts once again. The tower was growing closer (And with no wild animals to contend with as of yet, much to his relief), so distracting thoughts could prove far too dangerous at this point. "This one confesses that he does not know much of High Rock, and whether the Breton people follow their own pantheon."

"It’s not abnormal that your race would worship Daedra – it’s not like all of the Daedra are horrible,’’ Marcel replied. ‘’I mean, the Dunmer worship Daedra almost exclusively, and they’re not all that bad, even though some stuff they worship is plain weird. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course, I mean, I have Dunmer friends too." He paused for a moment before deciding to move on, not wanting to bog himself down further into incomplete and awkward explanations.

"As for Bretony, the religious lore is somewhat of a mishmash of Altmer and Imperial deities. My family’s line of work was finance and trade, so they kept an Altar for Zenithar in the house, and offered milk and honey to it weekly, and idols of Julianos were common in our rooms. As for I, it would not be wrong if I said that I’m not a fervent worshipper to one particular deity. I have seen miracles from almost all Gods, really, so I do not think that worshipping one and one exclusively makes much sense."

He took a breath in a pause before continuing. He did not want to force his lungs, after all, talking while moving uphill could consume one’s supply of air quickly. 

"Say, many amongst us Hunters of High Rock worship Daedra alongside Aedra. Meridia is a common deity to call upon, and I have invoked her name with great success myself, while some more unscrupulous and active Hunters claim their bounties in name of Hircine, for it brings them much strength and resolve. Taking things too far in either case, however, is an easy way to bring ruin in my opinion. Some amongst us have the exclusive duty of putting down those Hunters whose prayers to Hircine got addled with blood and were answered all too directly, and they pray to Arkay, for example. It is not easy work. To be honest, you never know whom you have to ask help from.''

Marcel put on a smile. ''Best if you never anger any one of them unless you have to, really,'' he said, chuckling.

What Marcel said made sense to Rhasha, in that serving one God alone was a bit odd. Perhaps not so much as with certain Daedra's, in which two different Princes hated one another - but for any other instance, it would seem to make more sense to worship as many as possible. What better way to increase your chances of divine intervention than worshipping dozens of different Gods?

"This one has never been particularly vocal in his faith - Azurah once held a warm place in Rhasha's heart, but recent events have changed this. As for other Gods..." At this, Rhasha paused. His family had never been the most religious, so beyond the almost automatic worship of Azurah, he felt no pull to any God, be they Aedra or Daedra. However, Rhasha had learnt to avoid certain ones. "Other Gods he feels no hate or love for, except perhaps Hircine. His creatures, the Werewolves, are foul enough to make one avoid his worship. One of the beasts attacked Rhasha's caravan many years ago. He escaped with just wounds, but many friends were lost to it." To this day, Rhasha still felt regret over not being able to fight better, or faster, to save the other Khajiit. He had been much younger back then, and without the experience he had today - but the harrowing experience was just as permanent in his mind as the scars on his body were.

Marcel’s expression took a turn for the gloomier upon hearing the Khajiit’s words. While he was not the most faithful person himself, Marcel still believed that faith was a surefire way of finding hope or resolve in situations where there would be none otherwise, amongst other things. The Khajiit’s words expressed his crestfallen demeanor well. He wanted to comfort the fellow and try to help him make his peace with those up above, but, never having been an eloquent speaker or a smart thinker, he could not find the words to try and pull the Khajiit from the pit of disappointment that he seemed to be in. 

‘’I’m sorry to hear that,’’ he murmured, eyes pointing down. ‘’But do try to keep your head up. Faith or not, it’s a comfort to have something to help you stand.’’

"Hmm." Was Rhasha's response, sounding somewhat absent-minded as his mind wandered. Faith was a curious thing, and the Khajiit pondered that maybe it shouldn't have a place in his life if it had never done anything good for him. Would the comfort of Azurah ever return? He supposed only time would tell.

At this point, the pair had finally finished their trek up the hill. It would seem the approaching warmth of summer had driven the frost trolls and ice wraiths away from the slowly thawing Dawnstar, and so their journey had been a thankfully safe one. The outside of the tower didn't look particularly cosy, but then, if one was looking for a hiding place while they killed people, cosiness was hardly going to be a driving factor in choosing a place. Gripping the rusted handle of the doors, the partially rotted wood loosened from it's frame and opened after a few hard pushes, and Marcel and Rhasha entered at last.

Amidst the rubble strewn around the stone floor, Rhasha was surprised to see what was clearly an attempt of a make-shift chapel; wooden pews, and a modest podium facing them on a stone pedestal. Books were thrown around here and there, most of them severely water damaged due to the holes in the roof; braziers lined the room, though it was clear that none of them had been lit in a very long time. In short, it didn't look as though anyone had lived or even been here in a few years. Rhasha felt crestfallen for only a moment before realising that this was only the opening into the fort... where were the rest of the doors?

Eyes scanning the room, Rhasha's gaze finally landed on a huge carving behind the podium. He didn't recognise the insignia upon it, but that wasn't what caught his attention; at first glance, it looked to be glass - translucent. Because of how dark the room was, it was easy to miss at first, but he could make out outlines behind the carving, ones that didn't match the room he and Marcel stood in. Pausing as he draped his heavy winter cloak over a pew, he approached the carving cautiously, staring at it only for a moment before pressing a hand against it. 

"Hah! Look at this - some kind of illusion magic. There's nothing here at all." As his hand passed through the carving, an incredulous laugh left his mouth, simply because he hadn't seen magic like this before. The opening before them wasn't covered at all - or maybe it was, and even more complicated magic was at work - but the carving had no substance to it whatsoever. They could pass through quite safely to the other side... though he could only hope that whatever magic this was kept working until they exited out the other way. Rhasha had a feeling that this was the only entrance in and out of the Tower of the Dawn. "Shall we begin our investigation?" He asked as he turned to smile at Marcel, a curious glint in his eye. An entrance like this one was bound to have some surprises behind it.

Marcel smiled back in courtesy while nodding rather dismissively, not wishing to put any more clouds over the mood with further pessimistic pondering. The spell, while not very complicated to prepare, was not very common either, and its presence did not bode well to Marcel. This was not something a simple assassin would know.
 
As they got closer, the illusory wall in front of them seemed somewhat perturbed by Marcel’s presence and began rippling like torn fabric facing a stream of wind. While this allowed him to see somewhat further within, he was nonetheless unsure whether if any more complicated magic lay behind this seemingly simple yet uncommon trick. 
 
[i]"After you,"[/i] Marcel thought to say, but then decided to spare the Khajiit any possible horrors lurking behind the façade. 
 
"Let me do the honors." Marcel said with unexpected confidence, and for once he did not wait for an answer. After unsheathing his silver sword, he plunged through. Rhasha followed through behind him without hesitation, spear ready and waiting for whatever lay before them.