"What? Do you know who you're talking to, you whelp? I am Clarentavious, the Emperor's chief artificer, and the only battlemage left alive in this Powers-forsaken wasteland."
Clarentavious Valisious is an elderly male wizard located in the Weir Gate. He greets you joyously, which is soon followed by apprehension, as he realizes that you have not brought allies. At this point, he declares the situation hopeless, and requests that the last of the anchors be loosened. If you return with Lord Methats' Steel Pauldron, however, he will grant aid by bestowing the Staff of the Typos Sophia.
What? Do you know who you're talking to, you whelp? I am Clarentavious, the Emperor's chief artificer, and the only battlemage left alive in this Powers-forsaken wasteland.
Player Response
Result
Forgive my -- curiosity -- but -- by what coincidence do you alone remain unharmed?
I persuaded them I was Taken and BOUND to them, ensorceled, ONE of them. But I'm not, I'm not...and now you're HERE! And safety, sweet escape, and an END to the nightmare, and the darkness -- erm, but -- where are the legions, to cleanse this realm of its infestation?
Player Response
Result
Legions? Well. Well. Uh. I ehr um. Well. No legions. Just. Well. You see? I'm all there is. Here. At the present.
Kaid? They wanted Kaid, they sought him here but it's just me, just old Clarentavious, in the dark. But. Where are the LEGIONS to rid this place of its infestation?
Player Response
Result
The legions will be here quite soon. Certainly. They sent me on ahead, of course, to, well, scout out things. A bit.
Trenelle? They wanted Trenelle, they sought her here but it's just me, just old Clarentavious, in the dark. But. Where are the LEGIONS, to rid this place of its infestation?
Player Response
Result
The legions will be here quite soon. Certainly. They sent me on ahead, of course, to, well, scout out things. A bit.
No legions? Just you? And what use are you? USEless! USEless! All is lost! The Weir Gate is barred, and the Star Galley; that can only bear us deeper into the darkness and the madness. Well. That's the end, then. Here. The password to my chambers is "boustrophedon." It's on a piece of parchment somewhere around here. Take the password, and go to my chambers. Sever the last anchor, and we shall be done. You will reach them through a Mystic Conveyor, if you can get past Methats, that is.
Player Response
Result
EEE-Easy, friend. What's all this about a star galley? A stove for cooking stars?
I'm not that far off in the weeds, young whippersnapper! You've got no legions, and none are coming. The Weir Gate is barred, and the Star Galley, that can only bear us deeper into the darkness and the madness. Well. That's the end, then. Here. The password to my chambers is "boustrophedon." It's on a piece of parchment somewhere around here. Take the password, and go to my chambers. Sever the last anchor, and we shall be done. You will reach them through a Mystic Conveyor, if you can get past Methats, that is.
Player Response
Result
Erm -- exactly what is implied by the significant phrase -- we shall be DONE?
You come strolling through here, you don't have a legion, and you know jack-all! Nothing! Go to my chambers. All your questions will be answered there. Then you'll taste of utter despair. Now begone, and let me make my peace with my ancestors.
Player Response
Result
Right. I'm off to your chambers straight away, where all will be made clear. I'm sure. Perhaps I'll check back later to share your utter despair.
Are you DEAF as well as WITLESS? Let me try very small words. Use. The. Password. Use. The. Teleporter. Go to my chambers. Go to my chambers. Go. To. My. Chambers. ALL YOUR QUESTIONS WILL BE ANSWERED THERE. Now GO!
So now you see. They are too strong, and the Star Galley just delivers us among more powerful foes. As for the cogs? Gone. Lost. Scattered into the hands of the Enemy. It matters not. Make your peace with the Great Powers, and sever the final anchor. Hope is lost. All that remains is an honorable death.
Player Response
Result
Ahah! You little conceive with whom you speak. For I have just recently been awarded SECOND PLACE in the Imperial Martial Arts competition.
Look. What if I did Methats for you? Knocked him into Oblivion, or the Thirteen Hells, or wherever Daedra go when you smack their spirits right out of time and space?
You're priceless! So naive! Yes. Cast Methats from the world, and I'll give you the Typos Sophia! Absolutely. Why not? While you're about it, bring me his right pauldron, where he wears his seal, as proof of your deed. Might as well grab the seals of the Thirteen Patrons and the Eight Powers while you're at it. Hah-hah-ha! Hah-hah-hah!
Player Response
Result
That's better. Cheer up. No need to be gloomy. I'll be right back with the dingus. Goodbye.
By the Powers! You amaze me! Very well. Take the Typos Sophia. Much good may it do you in the Colleges. But you shall see. Yes, you'll see soon enough. These creatures you see here are but pups compared with their masters. As you dangle for eternity in some daedric pit of horrors, you'll wish you'd taken my advice and died gloriously with me in the ruins of Battlespire.
Player Response
Result
Look, old man. Hide here in closet if you must, but don't kill yourself and don't set Battlespire drifting off to ends of time. SOMEone has to stick around here and report to the legions. So tighten up. I'll see you later.
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