Ilsabet's Headcanon (Quest Spoilers; Outline in First Post)

Ilsabet

Author's Note:

So it's been a lil' while, and that's largely because the motherboard on my computer died and it's been a saga and a half dealing with that, so pretty much everything ESO-related has been put on hold. (I did finally get access to my files, so I should be able to get the last High Isle entry posted before too long, but I'm not sure when I'll be able to start Firesong questing. Please try not to be too horribly disappointed by the wait.)

Meanwhile, I realized that in all the hullabaloo surrounding the premature death of my laptop, I completely missed the 7-year anniversary of this thread. I immediately set about rectifying this grievous oversight, and I think the artistic masterpiece I came up with more than makes up for my prior negligence.

So... happy birthday like a month and a half ago, Ilsabet's Headcanon!

Ilsabet

Another victory, another victory celebration. Is it supposed to feel so hollow? All the well-wishers gathered to share in our triumph, all the self-congratulatory speeches and approving nods, as if the fight were actually over and the big bad weren't still out there plotting his diabolical comeback.

I suppose we did save the monarchs, again, and we eliminated one of the Ascendant Order's powerhouses, and Lady Arabelle seems to think the peace conference isn't a completely lost cause. So maybe there is hope to be found amongst the storm-drenched ruins of All Flags Castle. But it's still hard to shake off this mantle of weary dread, knowing this mirthful respite will be all too brief.

We did feel pretty good about ourselves as we assembled with the rescued royals in Lady Arabelle's garden. The trials of Amenos were behind us, and if it weren't for the immediate and incessant royal bickering, I might have proposed launching into our peace talks right there. But Lord Bacaro had his plans, and the Ascendant Order's threat still loomed, and so there was work to be done.

Our first order of business was to see what we could get out of the big all-hands-on-deck Ascendant Order meeting that Irnskar had learned about. That would be a standard affair of using a confiscated summons to weasel our way in, and Lady Arabelle had prepared some Ascendant Order uniforms for the occasion. But there was a complication.

"Only two?" I asked, as Lady Arabelle handed out the disguises.

"Yes, dear. One for you, and one for Jakarn. What more were you expecting on such short notice?"

I looked at Bastian, trying to decide how much of a problem this was going to be. He seemed to be having similar thoughts, but then he put on his reassuring face.

"I'll stay here and guard Lady Arabelle," he said. "We can leave the sneaking around to the professionals."

I nodded, and looked to Jakarn. He grinned back at me. "You heard the man. Let's get in there and show them how it's done."

Inside we found the meeting already in progress. One of these days someone will let me start shooting at speechifying windbags, but we were under orders not to rile up the entire Order all at once. So instead we kept our heads down and listened in while the Magus and Lord went over their plans for using druid magic to blow up All Flags Islet, and then it was time for tiptoeing around the back to try to catch up to them after they'd made their dramatic exit from the assembly.

It was the Magus who caught up with us, but not before we'd poked around his little riverfront sanctum. He was predictably insufferable, thanking us for collecting the monarchs for him and assuring us of the great justice behind the Ascendant Lord's inexorable crusade to supplant the reigning warmongers. I was expecting to have to work a little to wheedle his true identity out of him, but he decided it would make for an amusing guessing game. I might have been annoyed enough to just pull out the name of any old two-bit noble, but there was that brother of Duchess Elea's who had been dabbling in druid magic...

And so it was indeed Count Damard Dufort who graced us with a look at the smarmy face under the helmet. If he was at all concerned about what we might do with that information, it was presumably less compelling than the chance to do a little extra gloating. We were completely helpless to stop him, after all. As if being up on that ledge somehow put him out of arrow range.

He knew exactly what he was doing, though. The next words out of his mouth were about Lady Arabelle - and how his knights were at that moment doling out her punishment down in the dungeons. It was a challenge, and a choice, and Jakarn didn't even hesitate before he took off running into the crypts, even as our enemy smugly strode off toward his waiting ship.

I was left looking after one, and then the other, needing to make a choice of my own. It shouldn't have even been a choice. The Ascendant Magus was a priority target, and even one-on-one I had a decent chance of at least ruining his day a little before he portaled out of my reach. Everything that was sensible said that was the way I should move. But... if Lady Arabelle had been captured, that meant that Bastian...

I let out a growl and started after Jakarn. We would deal with the Magus soon enough, especially now that we could use his identity against him, but we only had one chance to save our friends.

I caught up to Jakarn as he was debating between a pair of hallways, and then a clash of steel and a woman's ringing taunts spurred us on. If that was the woman it sounded like, and she was still fighting, that meant it wasn't too late.

We rounded a corner, both of us with our weapons drawn. And then there they were, Bastian and Lady Arabelle, back to back taking down the last of their would-be captors.

"Ah, so glad you could join us, dears," Lady Arabelle called, blithe despite being out of breath. "Why, Jakarn, you look positively panicked. What's wrong?"

"What's...? You were - you..." Jakarn sputtered, but before his panic could completely give way to relief, his attention turned to Bastian. "What the hell were you doing out there? You were supposed to be keeping Lady Arabelle safe, and you let these bastards lay their scummy hands on her?"

"Jakarn, that's enough," Lady Arabelle said sternly, and the rogue looked at her uncertainly.

"You'd better believe I was ready to fight to protect Lady Arabelle," Bastian said. "But as soon as I reached for my staff, she ordered me to stand down."

"These fine fellows simply wanted to escort us into their secret base," Lady Arabelle said. "Why make things unpleasant when we could accept their kind offer to bring us closer to the action?"

The truth of the situation sank in, and Jakarn lowered his remaining hackles. "I'm... sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I was just..."

"I understand," Bastian said. "I'm glad to have my partner back safe too."

A moment of something resembling grudging rapport passed between them, and then Jakarn cleared his throat and turned toward me. "So hey, how about that Ascendant Magus? Maybe you should tell Lady Arabelle what we learned."

It turned out that Lady Arabelle had had her own run-in with His Mageness after being "escorted" into the dungeons, which had been about as pleasant as one would expect. She was chagrined that her capture had become a manipulation tactic to keep us from apprehending Count Damard, but at that point all we could do was look ahead to thwarting what we now knew were the Order's plans to attack the royal delegates at All Flags Islet.

I'm going to go ahead and assume that Damard had already sailed his backup ship out of the Navire shipyard before we arrived to ransack the Silver Swan, because otherwise I'd have to be peeved about Lady Arabelle forgetting that salient fact after we rescued Duchess Elea. On the other hand, I can maybe understand being distracted by plans for a boat heist, and stealing a ship with our posse of sailor friends was actually fairly fun.

And then we got to All Flags Islet, and the fun abruptly ended. Castle walls, magic wards, a contingent of bodyguards, none of it made any difference in the end. It always comes down to beating the crap out of a bad guy to make him stop doing bad things, doesn't it? Well and in this case, also using ballistae to blow up ships and feeding druids to their own storm rituals. But after all that big talk about the power of wind and flame and mountain, in the end the Ascendant Magus was no match for three bickering royals and a pair of tired babysitters.

And it's a good thing too, because whatever Lord Bacaro was doing during this whole crisis, it wasn't getting us the backup we thought we needed. Sending letters must be time-consuming work. But maybe that's just me being petty after doing so much of the heavy lifting. Things worked out okay, relatively, so no need for grousing, right?

The monarchs have been on their best behavior during the celebratory shindig, even making public declarations that they'd support the peace talks whenever Lord Bacaro is ready to try again. That sounded good, but we'll see. High King Emeric shared his doubts with me more quietly, and given his greater experience in both politics and war, I'm not surprised that he doesn't quite share the enthusiasm of his younger counterparts. Or maybe he's just less inclined to sugarcoat his skepticism.

Despite the continued posturing and traces of antagonism beneath the veneer of courtesy, though, I can see how our alliance leaders have changed. They may never consider each other friends, but they've gone through a life-or-death battle as allies. Any one of them could have taken advantage of the fracas to turn blade or spell against the others, hoping to be the last monarch standing when the storm clouds eventually cleared. But they didn't. They stood together, fighting with and for each other, for a basic common survival that superseded politics or war. And I think they'll remember how that felt, even when they're back at a negotiation table ruled by stubborn egos.

It won't be long before the party breaks up and our little adventuring troupe goes its separate ways. Jakarn is already antsy to get back to laying low until trouble finds him again. Kaleen and the other captains are going to stick around Gonfalon Bay, guarding the delegates and getting their new ships and crews whipped into shape. And Bastian and I will noodle around doing whatever we feel like until we stumble over something else that needs dealing with.

You know what, I think I'm going to choose to be in a good mood and enjoy the rest of what this Breton paradise has to offer. That'll show all the crummy nonsense that wants to make me cranky. I wonder how hard it'll be to figure out that card game...

Ilsabet

Bastian is currently off pouting since I beat him at cards again. Someone should tell him that spamming the Orgnum patron isn't cheating. And I mean I am the Tribute Champion of Tamriel, so he shouldn't expect to have an easy time of it when he challenges me to a rematch.

I'm not going to tell him "it's just a game," though. Not after seeing how much Tribute means to those I've been fighting alongside, even if this battlefield is just a fancy placemat on a bar table and the artillery is a motley assortment of playing cards.

We all have something we'd like to escape from, don't we. We'd love an easy way out of our troubles, something to take our minds off the nonsense for a while. Hell, isn't that half the reason I threw myself into learning this silly game? But sometimes those diversions become troubles of their own, exerting a hold over us that we may not even want to escape from.

I can't know exactly what made Sorinne think that using skooma was a good idea. Everybody knows how addictive it is, and how it messes you up once the initial highs aren't enough anymore. But her life on the streets of Elsweyr was marked by enough lows to make those highs seem awfully appealing by comparison. And when someone you care for, who only wants the best for you and will always be there for you, offers to share comfort in the form of a sweet release, what could be more seductive?

Of course, we both see how blatantly manipulative and self-serving Raenobi is now. But it's also easy to see why her brand of manipulation is so effective. Sorinne was vulnerable, and needed a supportive friend to help her get through those dark times. Raenobi gave her just enough to mask what she was taking, like the sweetness of sugar camouflaging a life-leeching poison. We're all just fortunate that Sorinne was able to find her way out before she completely lost herself, and it's a credit to her resilience that she resisted the allure of just one more taste.

Brahgas, meanwhile, got a little too into the thrill of competition. And when I say "a little," I mean he's extremely lucky he's not chained up on some Dres plantation right now. There's confidence, and then there's cockiness, and then there's being so sure of yourself that you're willing to bet everything you have on your next match. And then betting a little more to make up the difference when things don't go your way. And then a little more, and a little more, and even if you know you should stop you're not so sure you can, and the avalanche keeps on rolling until it's your literal life on the line.

Would Brahgas have been fine if he'd just kept winning? Maybe. But scoring big early on is a good way to convince yourself of your own invincibility, and then it all comes crashing down as soon as you inevitably meet someone with more skill or experience or moxie. Or hell, sometimes all it takes is a crappy run of tavern cards and there goes your match. Or sometimes your opponent is just really good at spamming Orgnum. And however it happens, once the winnings dry up and the debt hole starts expanding, you're stuck playing catch-up and it's all too easy to find yourself at the mercy of some unscrupulous Dark Elves. (Okay it's not always Dark Elves. But it does make you wonder how much of the slave trade banks on addicts as easy targets.)

It might be easy to judge people who have fallen prey to addiction, and it might even impart a satisfying sense of superiority to those of us who haven't, as if we would never be so dumb/foolish/needy as to make those obvious mistakes. But self-righteous judgmentalism doesn't help anyone. Kindness helps people. Having a place where they can feel safe helps people. Supportive friends who enforce boundaries and accessible resources for information and counsel help people, like Razhamad giving Brahgas a job while he's on his Tribute break or Sorinne learning about addiction from scholars and priests.

I don't know if I have anything that qualifies as an addiction. Running into danger with little or no regard for my own safety, maybe? But whether I can identify with them or not, I can support my friends and encourage them to find healthy ways to deal with those cravings that they just can't seem to resist on their own. And even when I'm not here hanging around the gaming hall every day, it'll be good to know that Sorinne and Brahgas will have Razhamad looking after them like the chapter dad he is.

Speaking of friends and being supportive, maybe I'll find Bastian and see if he wants to go do some antiquity-hunting as a conciliatory gesture. I don't need to rub it in too much that I'm the bestest Tribute player in Tamriel. At least until the next rematch.

Ilsabet

I had a really weird dream last night. I was in Cyrodiil, but not the Gold Coast or Blackwood or any other part of Cyrodiil I've ever been to. It was closer to the Imperial City, right in the heart of the Three Banners War.

When I showed up I was welcomed into the ranks of the great Daggerfall Covenant, and I learned how to shoot ballistae and trebuchets and dump oil off of balconies. And then they sent me out into the field to siege castles and face the Covenant's foes, and I had no real idea where I was going so I just kind of looked around and tried to follow people who knew what they were doing.

There was a lot of chaos after that. Big battles to capture or defend keeps, skirmishes with Pact and Dominion troops, attempts to sneak around with varying success. And lots and lots of horse riding. I feel like I died a bunch of times, but each time I just went right back out there and kept fighting. I'm not sure if we ever got any closer to claiming the Ruby Throne for High King Emeric and putting an end to the war, but somehow each successful keep battle felt satisfying, even if the bad guys eventually took it right back.

It was actually kind of refreshing just being another soldier amongst the throng, with no special treatment or real expectations other than trying my best to contribute. Reminds me a bit of my first day in the Dominion after saving the world the first time, just being a nobody that no one would pay any mind to.

Over time I did rise through the ranks, and then came the craziest part of all: The Covenant made a mad push to encircle the Imperial City, and once we had succeeded, they decided to put me on the Ruby Throne. Empress Ilsabet has a certain ring to it, but that was probably the part that clued me in that it was a dream, and I woke up not too long afterward.

Hmm, now that I think about it, maybe that's the real answer to the Three Banners War. Just put me in charge and I'll tell everyone to stop fighting and go home. I'll have to propose that if the official peace talks fall through.

On the other hand, though, I'm not so sure I want to be in charge. My adventures in dream-Cyrodiil were exciting and all, but once they were done I was left with the sensation of being very, very tired. So maybe I'll let other people handle the vying for control of Cyrodiil and stick with what I do best.

Margravigne

Absolutely love this. Found it a couple of days ago after replaying the main quest, read right through until I finished at 8am. Great writing style and character insights, I'm really looking forward to further installments. Now if they'd only stop taunting our poor characters and bring him back....

Ilsabet

Margravigne wrote: »

Absolutely love this. Found it a couple of days ago after replaying the main quest, read right through until I finished at 8am. Great writing style and character insights, I'm really looking forward to further installments. Now if they'd only stop taunting our poor characters and bring him back....

Now that's dedication. Glad you found it so compelling. And yes we need more than teasers from our boy. (Although I wouldn't say no to more teasers at this point...)

Ilsabet

Fiiiiine I suppose I can get back to work. No vacation can last forever, and something something Maormer and something something druids and fine Dhulef I'll go see what this Sir Stefan has to say about defending Galen from all these jerks trying to ruin everything for everybody. I'm sure it'll be no big deal and we can take care of business without harshing my mellow at all.

I promise I'm not getting bitter and jaded again already. It's true that I was settling quite comfortably into carefree island life, but it was only a matter of time before duty called again and frankly I was starting to wonder what was taking so long. There were those side adventures where I met Dhulef the pirate mage and Druid Laurel the... druid, but those seemed like diversions into druid history and druid circle squabbles that other people could follow up on once the dust and sand had settled.

And then Laurel sent word that she could use a guide for a trip to Glenumbra, and the call of duty started coming more clearly into focus. That squabble back at Earthen Root Enclave wasn't just an isolated spat, and the formerly-reclusive Firesong druids are serious about taking whatever they want from their fellow circles and even the wyrd of High Rock by any ruthless means necessary. And since that seems like bad news for pretty much everyone else, it's going to be our job to stop them.

And so here we are on sometimes-sunny Galen, which seems thus far to be an amalgam of the wilds of Amenos and the civilization of Gonfalon Bay. I haven't ventured too far into the less hospitable areas I've heard about, so that's something to look forward to. Assuming those shifty druids and the rampaging Maormer pirates don't get us first.

I may have gotten a little sidetracked after getting my assignment from Dhulef. I was nosing around Vastyr, getting the lay of the land as is my habit, and as soon as I walked into the tavern I heard a familiar cat's voice wishing he could be more boring. And so Bastian got to meet Razum-dar, and we got to help him settle some old Eye of the Queen business. Raz is lucky it's been long enough that reminding me of Senalana didn't stir up too much angst. But it still felt good to give him a bit of the business about that trick he pulled on me back then.

And now it's back to actual work. I hope Sir Stefan and Lord Bacaro haven't fallen asleep waiting for their backup to arrive. Oh right, Lord Bacaro has apparently also made his way to Galen, offering the Society of the Steadfast's relief to those who have been affected by the island's various conflicts. I wonder how happy he'll be to see me ride in on my high horse. (Or... Dwemer spider. Either way.) Any help is good help when you're just trying to help, right?

Ilsabet

I've been trying to decide how much I can get away with leveraging the slight confusion I sense when I introduce myself and people hear my last name. I sometimes go ahead and clarify that "no it's MEnard, not MORnard," but then I start to wonder if people would treat me differently if they thought I was some kind of noble. I toyed with that idea on High Isle too, but over there the Mornard name seems to be less well-regarded after their demotion a few years back when the patriarch of the time made the mistake of supporting Ranser's uprising. Here on Galen, though, or at least in Vastyr, the Mornards are squarely in charge.

Of course, even if I hadn't developed a habit of pronouncing my surname very precisely, anyone who knows anything would immediately peg me as "not from around here" and therefore clearly not a Systres noble. And then I might get in trouble for impersonating a Systres noble to get free drinks or something, and nobody needs that kind of hassle.

Distinctly not being a Mornard does have its advantages, though. Like when the scion of House Mornard is taken hostage and his captor demands that House Mornard stay completely out of their nefarious druid business, and all Count Mornard can do is tell his soldiers to stand down and hope that Archdruid Orlaith doesn't come up with another reason to kill Stefan. But Bastian and I are not of House Mornard, and we will do whatever the hell we want, thank you kindly.

Okay so I might not proclaim as much to Orlaith's face, but that's why we do things stealthily. And pulling off a stealthy rescue mission is significantly easier when you have a very angry Maormer stomping around screaming for the presiding sealord's head. So thanks for that, very angry Maormer.

I'm still not quite sure what to make of Captain Siravaen. She's on our side, inasmuch as she's no friend to the Dreadsails or the Firesong. But she's also a loyal agent of King Orgnum, and presumably that means she thinks his goal of taking over Summerset and/or sinking it into the sea would be just peachy. Maybe it's a good thing all of this is not going down in Altmer lands.

And now, with Sir Stefan, Druid Niraya, and the Eldertide's sacred seed safely in our possession, it's back to Vastyr to see how the imminent Dreadsail siege is going. So here's hoping that the rogue Sea Elf captain will actually keep her word, and the sacred seeds will actually be safe within Vastyr's stone walls, and we can get back there in time to make a difference without everything going to hell.

Ilsabet

Yes, Lord Bacaro, how could this have possibly happened? How could you be the only survivor after the most vulnerable and the most important people in Vastyr were herded into the cathedral at your insistence? How could the second-most-fortified structure in this city have crumbled in an instant, leaving only you to step out unscathed?

Am I being unreasonable? Is this the old paranoia flaring up again? Or am I just pissy that once again things have spiraled way out of control even after all of our planning and preparation, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it?

How many sieges has Vastyr withstood? At least one really big one, according to some book I read, when the Maormer invaders turned the sea itself against the city's walls. And yet here's one little ragtag pirate armada bolstered by druid magic and the whole town is overrun in the blink of an eye. At least we can be comforted knowing it would have been even worse if we hadn't gone to the trouble of enlisting our own druid allies.

And yet, even if the city stands and the Sea Elves have been repelled, so much has been lost, and the damn Firesong have exactly what they wanted despite all of our successes thus far keeping it out of their hands.

Could I have kept those seeds safe? Really, should I just be the one to do everything? Or would it have been just as easy for Orlaith to knock me over the head or put me in some kind of magical bindings and pluck her prize right out of my pockets?

Gragh. I'm mad at Sea Elves, and mad at druids, and mad for Sir Stefan and everybody who had to watch someone they cared about die today. It's all so wasteful. And now I guess we get to see what the Firesong always intended to do with those seeds, and what kind of fancy doodads they'll sprout into for the next Druid King. Unless, I suppose, there's any chance we can protect Frii and keep them from falling into those blighters' hands too. And so... better luck this time.