Last Scabbard of Akrash Content . For several warm summer days in the year 3E 407 , a young , pretty Dunmer woman in a veil regularly visited one of the master armorers in the city of Tear . The locals decided that she was young and pretty by her figure and her poise , though no one ever saw her face . She and the armorer would retire to the back of his shop , and he would close down his business and dismiss his apprentices for a few hours . Then , at mid - afternoon , she would leave , only to return at precisely the same time the next day . As gossip goes , it was fairly meager stuff , though what the old man was doing with such a well dressed and attractively proportioned woman was the source of several crude jokes . After several weeks , the visits stopped , and life returned to normal in the slums of Tear . It was not until a month or two after the visits had stopped , that in one of the many tavern s in the neighborhood , a young local tailor , having imbibed too much sauce , asked the armorer , “ So whatever happened to your lady friend ? You break her heart ? ” The armorer , well aware of the rumors , simply replied , “ She is a proper young lady of quality . There was nothing between her and the likes of me . ” “ What was she doing at your shop every day for ? ” asked the tavern wench , who had been dying to get the subject open . “ If you must know , ” said the armorer . “ I was teaching her the craft . ” “ You ' re putting us on , ” laughed the tailor . “ No , the young lady had a particular fascination with my particular kind of artistry , ” the armorer said , with a hint of pride before getting lost in the reverie . “ I taught her how to mend swords specifically , from all kinds of nicks and breaks , hairline fissures , cracked pommels , quillons , and grips . When she first started , she had no idea how to secure the grips to the tang of the blade . . . Well , of course she was green to start off with , why wouldn ' t she be ? But she weren ' t afraid to get her hands dirty . I taught her how to patch the little inlaid silver and gold filigree you find on really fine blades , and how to polish it all to a mirror sheen so the sword looks like the gods just pulled it from their celestial anvil . ” The tavern wench and the tailor laughed out loud . No matter what he alleged , the armorer was speaking of the young lady ' s training as another man speaks of a long lost love . More of the locals in the tavern would have listened to the armorer ' s pathetic tale , but more important gossip had taken precedence . There was another murdered slave - trader found in the center of town , gutted from fore to aft . That made six of them total in barely a fortnight . Some called the killer “ The Liberator , ” but that sort of anti - slavery zeal was rare among the common folk . They preferred calling him “ The Lopper , ” as several of the earlier victims had been completely beheaded . Others had been simply perforated , sliced , or gutted , but “ The Lopper ” still kept his original sobriquet . While the enthusiastic hooligans made bets about the condition of the next slave - trader ' s corpse , several dozen of the surviving members of that trade were meeting at the manor house of Serjo Dres Minegaur . Minegaur was a minor houseman of House Dres , but a major member of the slave - trading fraternity . Perhaps his best years were behind him , but his associates still counted on him for wisdom . “ We need to take what we know of this Lopper and search accordingly , ” said Minegaur , seated in front of his opulent hearth . “ We know he has an unreasonable hatred of slavery and slave - traders . We know he is skilled with a blade . We know he has the stealth and finesse to execute our most well - secured brethren in their most secure abodes . It sounds to me to be an adventurer , an Outlander . Surely no citizen of Morrowind would strike at us like this . ” The slave - traders nodded in agreement . An Outlander seemed most likely for their troubles . It was always true . “ Were I fifty years younger , I would take down my blade Akrash from the hearth , ” Minegaur made an expansive gesture to the shimmering weapon . “ And join you in seeking out this terror . Search him out where adventurers meet - - taverns and guildhalls . Then show him a little lopping of my own . ” The slave - traders laughed politely . “ You wouldn ' t let us borrow your blade for the execution , I suppose , would you , Serjo ? ” asked Soron Jeles , a young toadying slaver enthusiastically . “ It would be an excellent use for Akrash , ” sighed Minegaur . “ But I vowed to retire her when I retired . ” Minegaur called for his daughter Peliah to bring the slavers more flin , but they waved the girl away . It was to be a night for hunting the Lopper , not drinking away their troubles . Minegaur heartily approved of their devotion , particular as expensive as the liquor was getting to be . When the last of the slavers had left , the old man kissed his daughter on the head , took one last admiring look at Akrash , and toddled off to his bed . No sooner had he done so then Peliah had the blade off the mantle , and was flying with it across the field behind the manor house . She knew Kazagh had been waiting for her for hours in the stables . He sprung out at her from the shadows , and wrapping his strong , furry arms around her , kissed her long and sweet . Holding him as long as she dared to , she finally broke away and handed him the blade . He tested its edge . “ The finest Khajiit i swordsmith couldn ' t hone an edge this keen , ” he said , looking at his beloved with pride . “ And I know I nicked it up good last night . ” “ That you did , ” said Peliah . “ You must have cut through an iron cuirass . ” “ The slavers are taking precautions now , ” he replied . “ What did they say during their meeting ? ” “ They think it ' s an Outlander adventurer , ” she laughed . “ It didn ' t occur to any of them that a Khajiiti slave would possess the skill to commit all these ' loppings . ' ” “ And your father doesn ' t suspect that it ' s his dear Akrash that is striking into the heart of oppression ? ” “ Why would he , when every day he finds it fresh as the day before ? Now I must go before anyone notices I ' m gone . My nurse sometimes comes in to ask me some detail about the wedding , as if I had any choice in the matter at all . ” “ I promise you , ” said Kazagh very seriously . “ You will not be forced into any marriage to cement your family ' s slave - dealing dynasty . The last scabbard Akrash will be sheathed into will be your father ' s heart . And when you are an orphan , you can free the slaves , move to a more enlightened province , and marry who you like . ” “ I wonder who that will be , ” Peliah teased , and raced out of the stables . Just before dawn , Peliah awoke and crept out to the garden , where she found Akrash hidden in the bittergreen vines . The edge was still relatively keen , but there were scratches vertically across the blade ' s surface . Another beheading , she thought , as she took pumice stone and patiently rubbed out the marks , finally polishing it with a solution of salt and vinegar . It was up on the mantle in pristine condition when her father came into the sitting room for his breakfast . When the news came that Kemillith Torom , Peliah ' s husband - to - be , had been found outside of a canton , his head on a spike some feet away , she did not have to pretend to grieve . Her father knew she did not want to marry him . “ It is a shame , ” he said . “ The lad was a good slaver . But there are plenty of other young men who would appreciate an alliance with our family . What about young Soron Jeles ? ” Two days nights later , Soron Jeles was visited by the Lopper . The struggle did not take long , but Soron had had armed himself with one small defense — a needle dipped in the ichor of poisonplant , hidden up his sleeve . After the mortal blow , he collapsed forward and stuck Kazagh in the calf with the pin . By the time he made it back to the Minegaur manorhouse , he was dying . Vision blurring , he climbed up to the eaves of the house to Peliah ' s window and rapped . Peliah did not answer immediately , as she was in a deep , wonderful sleep , dreaming about her future with her Khajiiti lover . He rapped louder , which woke up not only Peliah , but also her father in the next room . “ Kazagh ! ” she cried , opening up the window . The next person in the bedroom was Minegaur himself . As he saw it , this slave , his property , was about to lop off the head of his daughter , his property , with his sword , his property . Suddenly , with the energy of a young man , Minegaur rushed at the dying Khajiit , knocking the sword out of his hand . Before Peliah could stop him , her father had thrust the blade into her lover ' s heart . The excitement over , the old man dropped the sword and turned to the door to call the Guard . As an after thought , it occurred to him to make certain that his daughter hadn ' t been injured and might require a Healer . Minegaur turned to her . For a moment , he felt simply disoriented , feeling the force of the blow , but not the blade itself . Then he saw the blood and then felt the pain . Before he fully realized that his daughter had stabbed him with Akrash , he was dead . The blade , at last , found its scabbard . A week later , after the official investigations , the slave was buried in an unmarked grave in the manor field , and Serjo Dres Minegaur found his resting place in a modest corner of the family ' s opulent mausoleum . A larger crowd of curious onlookers came to view the funeral of the noble slaver whose secret life was as the savage Lopper of his competitors . The audience was respectfully quiet , though there was not a person there not imagining the final moments of the man ' s life . Attacking his own daughter in his madness , luckily defended by the loyal , hapless slave , before turning the blade on himself . Among the viewers was an old armorer who saw for one last time the veiled young lady before she disappeared forever from Tear .