The Ansus had called him and Aster had obeyed. He’d met them at a crossroads where he’d camped for the night, in old yoku.

***** ***** *****

He was travelling his ancestral homeland walking the paths of his grandfather’s grandfather’s grandfathers (and so on, all the way back to the first era and backwards but the bloodlines get trickier there.) There was three of them, as there always is, (bar their followers which numbered into the hundreds, well someone has to carry their sword collections) and they spoke to him, with one voice formed of their three, in the language of old Yokuda. He knew the noises from his grandmother on his father’s side so he understood them easily enough, even if the tripled voice made his head ache.


“We know you, fellow raga, and your name, Aster,” the three sword-danced in front of him as they spoke, a blur of steel and flesh intertwined and flowing like a liquid. “We have a use for you.” Here the dance changed, slow but deadly as the dancers twisted and flowed past each other as water would over rock or stone their swords sticking seemingly at every moment in time, filling the air with a resonance of strikes and possi-strikes.


“What would you ask of me Master Anseis? I am neither a proved Sword-Singer nor a duellist of any renown.” The dance shifted again and the collective of three made one became three ones. The ansus had chosen the dance of oh-don’t-be-so-stupid, but Aster knew naught of the old dances so remained ignorant of their meaning.


“We have a need of you. You will travel to the land of the Thief Gods and tell us what you find there.”


“Morrowind? Why?” This was the cue for another dance, oh-gods-spare-us-from-more-imbecilic-questions, ignorance is bliss.


“There is a stirring, a future echo of things that may be or have a want to be.” The movements came to a stop and the stillness was palpable. “But we would not send our eyes blind, we have prepared three gifts for you.” Three of the Ansei’s retinue stepped forward with three packages wrapped in bright silks.


The first, the younger, took a moth-silk wrapped parcel from the nearest companion. As it was unwrapped the three spoke in unison, “A memory stone, containing our gathered knowledge of Morrowind and its peoples and our predictions.”


The second, the daughter of neither, did the same as the first, unwrapping another memory stone. “Techniques we prepared for you, suited to your style.”


The third, the elder, took longer for his legs had aged with him, even the Sword-Singers cannot avoid the perils of the flesh forever. He unveiled a sword of dull grey metal. For the first time Aster heard one of the three speak with their own voice, “A sword. Forged from steel mixed with the dirt and ash of Yokuda,” here the Elder broke off into a series of laments for their ruined homeland but they are too numerous and saddening to be displayed here even if written in short for the elder, most of all, felt the loss of Yokuda deeply “it will serve you well.”


With that the Ansei and their followers began to depart (which took the rest of the night, the Ansei’s hundred followers walked in single file through the crossroads, as is the custom in old Yokuda) leaving Aster with his weapon, two stones and a feeling of deep confusion. “Morrowind then,” he said, when they had finally passed through.

***** ***** *****

Aster chartered a ship to take him to High Rock, it seemed all of the broken islands, the floating pockets of Yokuda, had heard of his meeting with the Sword-Singers and the captain offered to take him for free. They had to stop at many of the various islands that lay between Yokuda and Tamriel, the sun-charred Lieth and Lotte the so called sisters of the sea, the desolate Prienne close to Thras (a ghost island, affected by the foul magicks that floated across the waters from the Sload in Thras itself), then on to Herne before a long push over to Daggerfall city.


All the while Aster practice-duelled with the ship hands (his honor kept him from duelling them for anything more than practice) he refused to use the sword the Ansu had given him, it was too precious to be used for anything other than defending his or anyone else’s life. Despite his resistance to its use he would still follow the motions with it, practicing his stands and poses.


When they came to port in Daggerfall Aster pressed a small pouch of gold into the hands of the captain and departed the Glorious-Falcon-who-completed-the-Mluo-run-in-a-number-of-fractions-of-seconds (Yoku names aren’t always particularly elegant or easy to speak in the Tamriellic style).


He didn’t even explore Daggerfall he walked along the docks looking for a ship that would carry him up the Iliac Bay as far as possible, he found a small fishing ship named The Chrysamere whose captain would carry him up as far as Dragonstar.

***** ***** *****

He was crossing Skyrim when Nirn shook.

***** ***** *****

The destruction began a few leagues away from the Morrowind coast, broken timber and ruined houses littered the land. Waterlogged bodies bloated and pale skinned (even the Dunmer ones) lay in puddles of wet mud. For every Yoku body Aster found he spoke the long remembered passages of Tu’whacca over them reminding the god to guide them safely into the afterlife.

***** ***** *****

Despite these delays he made it to the stricken coast of Morrowind. It was dead, no ships no buildings, nothing.


He stood at the water’s edge wondering how he would cross the vast inner sea. To get a better picture he entered his Ansu-Asai through the Think-on-it-awhile position (cross your legs and think of breathing until the breath becomes you. Then picture a circle, look at it again, a circle within a circle, spinning counteractively, but smaller, then another until the circles form a tower of circles spinning so that the motion can no longer be perceived. From here enter the tower, all becomes clear and still like deep water.) Before he could enter the tower he was disturbed.


“Risky position that, I’ve seen Raga lose their way trying to enter.” Aster snapped his eyes open and his hand to his nameless blade. “Careful No Shira I meant no offence, I’m sure an Ansei such as yourself could stand to see the tower. I find it quite invigorating myself.” The speaker, an Imperial by the looks of him and an old one at that, stepped closer to Aster. He wore a faded suit of armor, as Aster looked closer he thought he could make out a red sigil of some kind, it was almost diamond shaped.


“Who are you?”


“Straight in with a big question, I like that,” he tapped the red diamond over his heart as he spoke, “Legionnaire of old, a man of the Red Legions.” Aster remembered something he’d been told long ago, ‘Always ask the right questions and no more.’


“Very well then, what can I call you man of the Red Legions of old?”


“Closer but not quite” replied the Imperial, as if he had heard Aster’s memory echo too. “You can call me whatever you like, Sir would suit quite well or Master if you prefer, I knew a thief who called me that once, mysterious man, if you would call him that, and he didn’t get any clearer once you got to know him.”


“If I ask your name will you tell me?”


“How very clever and perhaps the right question, the answer is twofold, both yes and no, I would tell you a name, but how would you know the truth of it?” the man rested his hand on the hilt of his blade awkwardly, it was a claymore and strapped to his back. “A name is as meaningless as the clothes a man wears, it can be an armor, or it can be loose and free. But I’ll indulge you, you’re a swordsman and Raga to boot, I’ve always had the utmost respect for your kind. You can call me Wulf.”


“Pleased to meet you Wulf, I’m Aster,” he said offering a hand.


“I know,” Wulf took the hand.


“So are you trying to get to Vvardenfell too?”


“In a manner of speaking, I’m about to depart for the island, there is no try.” Aster looked around he could see no boat or ship.


“How are you proposing to do that?”


“Aboard the Tiber’s Glory of course.” Aster looked again and saw the ship swaying gently in the water not far from them attached to a rickety looking dock.


“Has that always been there?”


“No I sailed it here yesterday. Open your eyes more Raga.” The memory sat uneasily with Aster but then again the ship had been here when he arrived, at least he though it had (this sort of thing often leaves a strange sensation of tampering, it can’t be helped or circumnavigated, the mages of the Order Under the Dragon, Section 81 Dreamsleeve and Munderial research department had tried it once and the resulting mess took years to clean up.) “and we’re about to leave, if you want to come with us then you’d better get aboard.” Despite the off-ness of the non-memory Aster crossed the dock and climbed onto the Tiber’s Glory.


“We’ll drop you as close to Balmora as possible, or whatever stands there now.” Aster realized his stupidity.


“I haven’t asked, what happened here?”


“An echo of things to come, the land fell and changed and from that changing Dagoth Ur spewed forth new land.”

***** ***** *****

Aster made use of the free time during his journey he touched the memory stones given to him by the Ansei and learnt from their thoughts-made-stone. In time he learnt the purpose of his journey as well but that knowledge was hidden below layers of other knowings.

***** ***** *****

According to the stars they landed in Balmora, or thereabouts allowing for the shift of the stars and the land beneath them (for the land of Tamriel does shift slightly over time, just ask the Mer of the Merithic who walked to Vvardenfell and back, though none of those now remain.) “Here’s where we part ways Yoku, you don’t need me from here on, you know where you’re going don’t you.”


“Vivec, or what remains of it.”


“And why?”


“To be the eyes of the Ansei and to tell them what I find there.”


“Very good. Like the Sword Saints I have a gift for you, you have all you will need for the rest of the journey. Take food and a water skin from our stores and be on your way.” Aster did so quickly and came back with a pack filled with food and water. “And lastly my lucky coin, served me well through my service and now it looks like it’ll help you too. A little extra luck is always helpful.”


“How will I leave Vvardenfell without you?” Wulf just chuckled and guided Aster off the ship.


“Goodbye Raga, may the gods watch over you. All of them.” Wulf chuckled again and left Aster alone on the shore. Aster turned to wave the ship off but it was already gone and the memory fading equally quickly.

***** ***** *****

Aster saw nothing of any of any living being in Balmora or the surrounding lands. Even the memory stones of the Ansei were of little use, the land had been changed beyond recognition. The only thing he had to guide him were the stars, he did his best to follow the coast around to the south-east.


He kept moving, hard as it was, towards Vivec.

***** ***** *****

It took a week of trekking over the scorched ground of Vvardenfell to reach what Aster assumed was the remains of Vivec. Instead of the beautiful city he saw in the memory stones of the Ansei he found a ruined crater, still burning at its edges and filled with boiling fetid water. Vitriolic smoke hung in the air, stinging his lungs and bringing his eyes to tears.

“It makes me weep too friend,” said a smooth voice from behind him. Startled Aster drew his sword and stepped into a familiar position. Blade shoulder height across the body 36 degrees from the horizon and right arm curled behind his back. “Ashia’s Overwhelming Defence a good choice, you’re certainly strong enough but how do you know you’re quicker than me?” Said the voice again, still unseen. Aster frantically checked around him for its source. He stepped now using the form of Snake on hot sands twisting as he moved to show little weakness. “You have nothing to fear from me Raga.”

“Then show yourself and be done with this trickery”

“If you insist, gaze upon me and know”, came the voice again, still seemingly from nowhere followed by a blinding flash and the appearance of a hooded Dunmer.

“Oh”, said Aster and the record has no more.

He lives