Pieces of the Past

In which I relate my experience of trying to get the pieces of the Mehrunes Razor, because hey, why not -- nobody else is posting anything. (Spoilers abound. I'm laying the whole quest open here, so if you haven't done it, don't read this.)

My last week of playing has been one of various trials and tribulations for my Orc Badass(TM), Kharnus Kor. I initially envisioned him to be a straight-up heroic sort of character; but as everyone knows by now, it's pretty close to impossible for anybody to be totally squeaky-clean in Skyrim... least of all an Orsimer.

The character of Kor has thus evolved into a now-hardened Imperial warrior (level 33), proud of his heritage and his duty, and acknowledging that as the latest Dragonborn he must rid Skyrim of the dragon threat. But within that seemingly straightforward personality lies turmoil. In his quest to become powerful enough to handle saving the world he finds himself drawn ever deeper into what Star Wars fans know all too well: the Dark Side of the Force.

Orcs have a strike against them to begin with, being followers of a Daedric prince (Malacath) who demands nothing else but unflinching determination and ruthlessness from his subjects. (See the quest [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] for details.) This was the first Daedric quest I did with this character, and I decided that this would be the turning point for the worse since the end of that quest involved deception on the part of the weak and cowardly.

I had always been attempting to justify each successfully more evil action Kor took in his drive for the power to counter Alduin. I would only use the werewolf power against Stormcloak rebels and Thalmor invaders, he said, and stayed true to his word... but he could not deny the joy of ripping a camp full of bandits to bloody shreds. Attaining more power, and yet more power, became its own reward, despite the self-deceit of it all being for the good of Tamriel.

So it was at that little Dawnstar museum, where Silius Vesuvius told Kor about the Mehrunes Razor, that Kor took yet another step down the staircase to darkness.

---

I had a problem with Dead Crone Rock, but it wasn't about getting there.

Despite its notoriety as a difficult to reach location, installing the mod [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] made it fairly easy to locate the route to Hag Rock Redoubt. With my lovely wife/follower Aela the Huntress as backup, I charged on up the various stone staircases swatting Forsworn defenders aside (and nabbing a pretty sweet Ebony Axe in the process) until we got to the door to Dead Crone at the top.

I was pretty full of myself at this point. After nearly maxing out both the Heavy Armor and One-Handed constellations to become a dual-wielding sprint-charging critical-striking Lawnmower of Death -- and a couple of three-word shouts to back it up -- I figure there was nothing I couldn't handle at this point, even with next to no defense against higher level mages. So when we entered Dead Crone, I walked right up to the first wooden door, and opened that sucker right u--

You all know the scene in Back to the Future, where the Libyan terrorist stitches poor Doc Brown full of automatic weapon fire? That's exactly what happened to me the moment I opened that door: a Forsworn mage immediately nailed me with a fullisade of ice spikes, turning old Kharnus Kor into a frozen pincushion almost instantly.

Oh, I thought. Another one of these.

I died no less than six times trying to beat that guy in close quarters, by far the most difficult enemy in the entire quest. Even the bosses, both here and at Cracked Tusk Keep, were Milquetoasts compared to this extremely pissed-off Forsworn mage. I eventually turned to Whirlwind Spirit to close the very lethal gap between us, after which I used up all my healing and stamina potions hacking him down to size.

I #$%&ing hate mages.

---

Eventually I met Sithius Vesuvius at the Shrine to Mehrunes Dagon. I had handed the pieces to him in his museum hours before, but even after he'd paid 3,000 gold for them, I had already made up my mind: I wanted that dagger. Even if it only had a one-in-a-hundred chance to insta-kill anything -- including an Ancient Dragon -- that was still nonzero. I had to have that weapon.

Sithius wasn't able to activate the shrine, so he had me try. One wonders whether this guy had his head screwed on straight to begin with -- if a closet Mythic Dawn cultist couldn't talk to his ethereal leader, then what chance is some Orc in spiky armor going to have? But, lo and behold, Mr. Dagon woke right up, and immediately demanded that I kill Sithius if I wanted the Razor repaired.

Well. Talk about golden opportunities.

This, however, was the first time I'd been given the choice to outright murder a person to obtain something. There wasn't really any way to justify what I was about to do, I know -- if I was going to have a blade that could be invincible, if I was going to have power that terrifying, then its price should be high. Being a reader of history, I knew full well the implications of wielding a weapon created by the entity who had tried to conquer all of Tamriel 200 years ago. But I could control such an evil, and make it do my bidding rather than that of Oblivion.

At least, I thought I still could. But there I was, approaching Sithius with my weapons at the ready, as he backed away in surprise. "This doesn't have to happen," he was babbling. "Give me the pieces and I'll store them in my museum. I'll pay you handsomely, and nobody has to die."

I stopped, staring at him, saying nothing.

The stress was too much for poor Sithius. He cracked, lunging at me with a spell cooking in his hands, yelling "Fine! I won't go down without a fight!"

---

I stepped solemnly away from Sithius, who lay still in death.

Approaching the altar of Mehrunes Dagon, I spoke to the Daedric Prince of Destruction, telling him Sithius was dead. In response, the pieces of the Razor floated above the altar, then became one.

As I claimed the coveted dagger, purchased with blood, knowing I had trodden the well-worn path away from righteousness, Dagon gave me a parting gift as a "final test", with an evil cackle: two Dremora Kynreeves. They charged.

I equipped my customary fire-enchanted Blades Sword in my left hand. Almost as an afterthought, in my right hand, I took up the Mehrunes' Razor.

As the first Dremora closed within range, I performed a quick power attack.



The Dremora immediately dropped dead on the ground like a wet sack of mudcrab chitins, victim of the Razor's instant kill. A one-in-a-hundred shot.

So.

This is what power is.

Nicely written, Minus!

I tried to stay as clean as possible in this game, but the Daedric Quests and artifacts are just so...tempting to carry out. Its like most of them bring out that inner dark side, that need for more power. Its actually kinda scary when you think about it

Yeah. Just imagine needing to beat someone to death with a rusty mace, just for him to be resurrected for you to do that again. In all honesty, that's a terrible way to go and I wouldn't wish that on anyone. Well, I guess my character would...

Chysonallite wrote:Yeah. Just imagine needing to beat someone to death with a rusty mace, just for him to be resurrected for you to do that again. In all honesty, that's a terrible way to go and I wouldn't wish that on anyone. Well, I guess my character would...

I just picked up that quest last night. I'm still trying to figure out how my character is going to handle that one...