Tarvala Sul'Morin Journal Entry 7

Mr. Journal,

Time to tell the rest of this tale. I’m sure you have other things to do than listen to me, like gathering dust, making eyes at the spell books across the room, and wondering if that strange inner squirming in your pages was bookworms or not. Good news, it wasn’t. Turns out I smashed a beetle in you without noticing last time. Don’t worry, it was towards the back and only left a bit of a black smudge there. I turned it into a doodle of a beetle in his memory. I named him Ashlander as that is the way all ashlanders end. Smooshed in the pages of history with only a doodle to be remembered by.

So where was I? Ah, had to flip through the last few pages but, I remember now. The “Battle of Bodrums Wall”. Fifty-two ordinators of war against the thronging mobs of escaped khajiiti slaves three-hundred strong, two-hundred of which were former dominion soldiers. Ok, it was technically two-hundred and ninety-four in total and two-hundred and eight were soldiers but that’s a lot to write out and makes for a far less dramatic story, but for the sake of posterity, that’s the true numbers. Also, a few of those civilians were children and elderly. I don’t count women as separate any more than I would for dunmer. If it can hold a sword and has claws and teeth, it is dangerous. After all, I care little if a wild panther trying to kill me is male or female when it’s trying to kill and eat me.

The battlefield looked like this give or take. The fifty-two Ordinators were atop a S shaped path that rose a good twenty or so feet as it wound to us. The great wall at Bodrum separating our lands from the N’wah’s, and the slaves freedom, was at our backs. From our vantage we could see the curve ahead and follow it below us into the distance. We had the highground. On either side of this path was large mushrooms and ancient gnarled tree’s. It was a good position for us, very bad for them. The only reason I believe they even thought they could pass here was that they still had not realized their “leaders” had been broken and thus our entire force was here, not back in Bodrum proper defending.

They expected to swarm over us like locusts. To trample the Three’s chosen and turn the earth red with our blood. Surprise, assholes! Ooops, sorry… thinking of it gets my blood pumping again, that wasn’t very Lady-like.

In the distance we could see them. They had acquired basic weapons, those on the frontline were armed with swords, shields, maces, etcetera, etcetera. Some of which were rusting others looked brand new. Of course a rusty mace can smash your face in just as easily as a polished one. Behind this first line was those with farming implements. Hoes, shovels, scythes, and other farm implements, likely stolen from nearby farms.

“Here they come! We are the final line between them and the Dominion receiving hundreds of new soldiers and snubbing their nose at the Tribunal! This we can not allow to happen! Prepare to fire long range spells on our mark!” I shouted, trying to sound as inspirational as I could. I won’t lie, I was afraid. You have to be. Fear puts you on edge, gives you an edge. I wasn’t just afraid for my life though, I’d happily give that up for another of my brothers or sisters, but for failing them and my mission. I never asked him, but… I think Siyo felt the same. If his speech, which by the way, was way better and more inspirational than mine. He definitely had the silent guardian thing going, and when he spoke, they listened and rallied. Anyway, his speech was a good one and showed the fire burning deep in him.

The slaves… though not slaves at this point, they really were a small army, badly supplied perhaps, but an army, began to run at us. A hissing, snarling, roaring stampede. The lion looking ones apparently can actually roar like their four legged cousins, who knew?

We waited, patiently for them to get in range and Siyo and I spoke as one, “RELEASE!” “FIRE AT WILL!” The blue arcs of lightning and the red glow of fire bloomed on that hill top. It was actually quite beautiful in its own horrible, destructive way. Long shadows pulled back from us and away from the trees, as if darkness itself wanted nothing to do with the battle taking place near it but couldn’t pull away far enough from their earth bound tethers.

The front line exploded. Red mists and clumps of fleshy fur shot into the air. The line behind them ran over their burning and smoldering frontline and the line behind them picked up the weapons of the fallen. I’ll give it to them, they never stopped. There were fully committed. It was freedom or death. There was no in between. At least as this point.

We continued our barrage but it was becoming obvious, by the time they reached us, there would still be three or four times more of them than us. We just didn’t have the numbers to counter theirs. “Siyo! Take down the that mushroom before you, make it fall over the path, I’ll get this tree!” He nodded sharply with out looking, clearly understanding.

I chugged a quick potion of magicka. I have rather deep wells, very deep, I’m told, however nothing is infinite and I didn’t want to start to run dry while doing my new job as lumberjack. The tree was a tall thing, well over a hundred feet high with the roots showing and supporting it well out of the ground at the base. Like those trees you see in swamps and around Morrowind all over. I really should find out what those are called. I just call them “Spider-trees”, because that’s what they remind me of.

Blasting the roots in the direction of the incoming khajiit with concentrated balls of explosive magicka, the roots exploded one by one. The sap inside superheating and adding to the explosive power. Half way through them, it began to topple. The sound was enormous as the roots still clinging to the earth pulled out the back end and the entire thing slammed into the pathway. Unfortunately, it was to slow in falling, most were able to get out of its path, but even then, they had to then climb over and through the massive limbs and trunk giving us that much more time to hit them from afar.

Siyo was far more successful with his mushroom, only having the one stalk or just his skill at cutting mushrooms, I’m not sure, but he easily smashed fifteen between the bell and stalk of the shroom. They both fell in such a way that it was a tangled mess and that little trick easily made it so that we could manage from here. Even though close quarters was inevitable.

From here, it’s a blur once we got hand to hand. I know I took an cut to my calf and Siyo took two daggers in the arms, one of which was still in his forearm at the end when the battle lust faded. I do remember one thing, our only loss actually. Ordinator Timund of House Redoran, he jumped before a thrown spear and heroically saved one of his other brothers. It took him in the armpit and dug into his heart. He was dead before he fell to the ground. Three watch him and his ancestors.

At this point, the remaining forty or so khajiit began to throw down their arms, putting their hands up shouting, “We surrender.” “This one gives up!” “Please, do not kill us!” “We have children!” They hid behind their young like shields. Not all of them, some were protecting them, but all were trying to surrender.

“Surround them! Drop your weapons!” The Ordinators, exhausted and tired, did as ordered as did the khajiit. Our orders were not to take survivors. This was war. War never changes. An enemy allowed to live today, will be your enemy again tomorrow. Siyo nodded to me, understanding this as well as I did without a word exchanged between us. “Kill them. Wipe them out, all of them.”

Fifty-one ordinators in a circle made that center a burning inferno from which nothing but light escaped.

The day was won. The slave revolt suppressed and a story to go and be heard among other slave camps as to what happens to those that raise blade against the Temple. I don’t revel in death, as I’ve seen some Ordinators. That they enjoy the act of killing, of watching a soul leave the body, and the powerful feeling that might come with such acts. I’m not sure if that is better or worse, truly, but to me when it comes to outlanders and n’wah, it is just a job. Like a chore to be done around the house. Yes, it is a bloody and dangerous chore, but most duty is.

Yes, I sleep well enough at night. I do hear the cries now and then in my sleep, but I’ve seen far worse at this point done to my own people. The world can be ugly like that, especially when your job is to look for it, as ours is.

Well, Mr. Journal. That is the story of how I became an Ordinator and my Trial of Mastery. Many things have happened since then as well, plenty of which I’ll tell you here, but not today. I think that’s enough for today.