Can be found randomly in loot containers, and is randomly sold by general goods and books vendors.


So it was that Cyrus the Restless came to a decision, which was ever preordained by his make, and let us not say that he did so easily, for that would be a lie, but still and alas: he was to meet the Ansu-Gurleht in single combat for satisfaction, if only the demon-king might be troubled again to show up. Cyrus had thought of ways to ensure this.

"Bring me maps and histories of the dunmer," he told the learned of his men, "And bring any here that know of the Ansu-Gurleht's aspect beyond local legend."

Borden showed with documents, for he was a reaver long, and had been to Morrowind before and after Armistice. He knew nothing much, however, of the dark elves beyond their ability to fight at raid time. "He's not a Redoran, I can say that," Borden said, scrolling out papered territories and pointing, "He was little armored, and those devils go weighted."

It was Gar that knew most of their dunmer politic, but he could not reveal much that wasn't tangled in old tale. "He may be the one named Vivec, because he mentioned ALMSIVI, which is some kind of god guiser cabal in their belief, with great hold on their nation. This "Vivec" is the only one of that group that frolics about outside their borders so much; one might say he's their public face or something."

Cyrus snorted.

"I'm telling you just what I know, Captain. The Pocketguide says they never come out at all, the ALMSIVI. Better texts link him to the Daedroth Mephala."

"Oh," Borden added, "Them Redorans also speak less distinguished than the dandyman you...well, I would say you fought, but that'd be generous in description. No offense, as always."

"Mephala?" Cyrus said. "Which Lord is that?"

Gar flipped through a book, looking for something to back up what he was already going to say. "The Webspinner in day parlance; otherwise it gets hazy. Ties to the Morag Tong, ties to sordid other cults in the provinces, running gamut from drugs to dibbledark to, hell, fashion trends even. Weird one, this Mephala."

"Weird is relative," Cyrus quoted.

A crowd had gathered; men with rope or hidden eagerness or barely covered discomfort. Their captain was stubborn and famous for it. No matter the disposition, each Carricker needed to be a part. Coyle was among them, about to say something until Hiddleman spoke up.

"Prizewise, what yer talkin past all this raga noise is we get the Nogru Opal back, yeah?"

The men of the Carrick shifted then, eyeing their captain and the dumb marine from Anvil. Coyle took the stead. He said, "Yes, Hiddle. No action Sura decides goes tobr'a way. Settle in and give scandal no glance."

Cyrus took the heed, but his nature couldn't stop his color despite it. "Listen, all of you. Runners were sent inland, and they're coming back with trade. The locals have never seen fireworks, and we stole plenty from Ko. Orichalc's en route in abundance, which will gather drake like even the oldest here have never witnessed. S'rathra's shiny is only going to make us richer, and I aim to get it back from that dunmer princess without a doubt."

Cyrus looked at the men to see the measure of their waver. "Without a doubt, you hear," he said. "Because no power lays me low like that on any ground, foreign or however-you-like. I'm Redguard. He insulted me, and let me live. In plain, don't trouble on my motive and your payday'll come tonight."

He looked to Borden. "Bring me my armor." He turned to Gar. "Find me the worst thing I might say to this Vivec." He turned to Coyle. "Load the cutter. I go within the hour."

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