Tavern Tales: Skyrim, Volume One (Legend)

[Vereta]

Sunlight spilled through the spaces between the wooden boards of the stable, illuminating particles in the air. It was a warm day at Mill Tavern, at least by Skyrim standards, and Ferrin had decided to get some work done. What he wasn't expecting was the sight that greeted him when he entered the stables. A Khajiit girl was laying in one of the stable's hay piles. A pelt was draped over her and Ferrin could hear her light breathing from where he stood at the entrance. He glanced around the stable, his eyes brushing over the horses as he wondered what he should do.

"Uh... Hey you!" Ferrin called at the Khajiit girl.

Her head shot up and she quickly locked eyes with him.

"You're, uh... Not supposed to be here..." Ferrin trailed off as the Khajiit girl gave off a light chuckle and relaxed her body.

She turned herself so that she was facing him, wincing as she did so. She gave him a toothy grin.

"I suppose I'm not." She said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Ferrin glanced away nervously before returning his gaze onto her. For all he knew this girl could have been dangerous...

"I-"

"Ferrin!" Balow shouted from the tavern door. "Ferrin, what are ye doin' boy? Get to workin'!"

Ferrin glanced behind him at Balow then quickly back to the Khajiit girl who had lost her grin and was now nursing her ribcage.

"You should probably get to work, boy." She said with a faint smile that faded when Balow showed up behind Ferrin.

"What's this?" He said with a semi-surprised expression. "Ferrin, what's this girl doing here?"

Ferrin was about to reply when Balow walked briskly up to the girl before kneeling down to inspect her. Nala felt slightly indignant at Balow's intruding inspection but couldn't find the will to resist. After all, she was sleeping in the man's stable without having paid him a single septim.

"You're hurt." He said simply.

Nala replied with a nod.

"You folk are awfully good at stating the obvious, aren't you?" She said with a grunt of pain as Balow removed her hand from her ribcage to inspect it.

He gave her a dumbfounded look in reply to her comment before letting loose a hearty laugh.

"He he, that we do lass! Ferrin! Help me get the girl into the tavern." He said as he helped her up from the hay pile.

--

"Fool-girl, what in Shor's name were ye doin' walkin' about in this state?" Balow asked Nala.

She winced as Balow carefully wrapped her ribcage with gauze.

"I didn't mean to be if that's what you're asking," Came Nala's snarky reply.

"Watch yeself, girl," Balow warned her. "It was only cute the first time. Ye were also sleepin' in a man's stable without payin' him coin."

Nala sighed and stared at the bear pelt draped on the chair in front of her from where she sat. She realized she was being unfair, rude even. This man, whose name she didn't even know, was treating her wounds when most who were in his position would have thrown her to the wolves. He didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of her bad mood.

"I'm... sorry. I've had a rough night." She said with an apologetic smile.

Balow did not reply and instead continued to wrap her with gauze from behind until he finally finished.

"There," He said as he stood up. "That should do it. Now as for the payment..."

Nala winced at the word 'payment.'

"I'll be taking this," He said as he picked up the tattered bear pelt.

Nala looked at him dumbfounded before she began to protest about how the pelt was worthless but was cut off by Balow.

"With this here pelt ye can stay here in this room until you've healed," He said as he was leaving the room. " M'name is Balow, by the way. You get to bed now, ye hear?"

"Yeah... Oh! I'm Nala!" Nala called out, but Balow was already gone.

Nala sat on the stool in a stupor. She wasn't used to people being kind to her. She was unsure if this was some kind of trick. She was used to people always asking for something, even when they didn't necessarily earn the right to that something. Balow was something else... Something she hadn't happened on often enough.

'growl'

Nala looked down at her stomach as it growled loudly for her attention. She frowned and gingerly stood up from the stool before making her way out of her new room. Perhaps Balow would be kind enough to give a free hot meal to a poor, injured Khajiit, she thought.

Edited May 25, 2012 by Vereta

[charlescrowe]

Raurke groaned, slowly coming to. "Why do I feel like I've been dragged halfway to Els..." He'd barely managed to grind out before a small, familiar humanoid shape crashed into him, causing the Breton to knock his head against the cool planking of the shack's wall.

Jack stared, bewildered. "She didn't kill him... did she?" He'd been trying to get the Wood Elf to talk, or atleast get her to smile when she bolted across the room and tackled the barely conscious man. Said elf was now cuddled next to him, saying something in a low, indiscernable voice.

"Yes, my magpie, I'm fine." Raurke said, kissing Malori. "More importantly, where are we, and how did we get here?" He took in his surroundings; they were in a rather ramshackle dwelling, which by the bloodstains and lingering stenches, may have been used for rather nefarious purposes in the past.

Duncan looked up from the private conversation he'd been having with the other woman, Jayn, if memory served Raurke right. "Ah, You're back among the living, friend!" He smiled wryly, both he and the revenant shared a laugh. "So it would seem." Raurke replied. "Jayn was just telling me of her and your wife's little adventure." Duncan smirked. "And quite a tale it's been. skeletons, giant snakes, and a womanizing pirate!" With the last, Duncan gestured to Jack, who flinched visibly when the word 'wife' was used.

Raurke regarded the Imperial with a scrutinizing eye. "Ah, a man after my own heart. She's beautiful, isn't she?"

After being filled in on the events between being subjected to the langourwine and his awakening, Raurke gathered up his belongings, and stepped outside with Malori for a while.

"What do you think they're doin?" Jack asked, a smile on his face.

"Likely not what you're thinking." Duncan interjected.

"How would you know?" Jayn said, giving the two the evil eye.

"Because the dead don't work that way." Raurke interrupted the discussion, looking much better now. He and Malori reclaimed their places as Raurke explained.

Jack and Jayna looked unnerved, though Duncan reassured them that they were atleast trustworthy.

"So, you're what... vampires?" Jack said, having recovered somewhat.

"Something along those lines, but closer to Druagr and Liches." Malori chimed in. "We vary in ability, weaknesses, and personality from individual to individual. We're wildcards among undead, but one thing is constant..."

"Souls." Raurke took over, holding up a translucent blue soul gem. "We survive on the life energy of others. Mudcrab or Monarch, it doesn't matter. But the first must always be black. For those with stronger moral codes, this causes... problems."

This particular bit of information was news to Duncan. "Problems? like what?"

"The personality... no... the very soul of the revenant splits. One half taking on the 'good' characteristics, and the other embodies the 'evil' side. These two forces compete for control."

"I'm assuming you two are the good sides, then?" Jayn spoke up, a hint of avarice in her voice.

Raurke smiled. "If we were going to kill you, we'd have done it long ago. I've completely subjugated my shadow, so rest assured." Raurke held up the gold medallion pendant around his neck. He smiled as his three companions looked at it questioningly. "A phylactery of sorts. a safegaurd, should our bodies be destroyed. They also serve as a prison for our shadows; the 'evil' side."

"Do they work?" It was Duncan's turn to ask questions. "And what do you mean if your bodies are destroyed?"

"So far, yes, and I wasn't always a Breton. I used to be an Elf, until I took a sword to the chest, that is." Raurke chuckled.

Jack was reminded of a gaurdsman in Windhelm who'd told a similar story one drunken night on the docks.

Edited May 25, 2012 by charlescrowe

[the-manta]

Felix hurled his spell at the first Vigilant, while a whirl of Nord rained blows on the second. The Vigilant took the first bolt with a grunt, but caught the second on his sword like a lightning rod, and sent it hissing to the ground. Felix ducked under the flash of silver, imagining his life with a shield.

Catching his balance quicker than his foe, Felix came back up and roared a spell of stoneflesh as he stepped out of the second swing. Two more lightning bolts hit home before the Vigilant’s sword thudded into Felix’s side. It bounced away with a clang from his enchantment, but took the wind out of the young mage in the form of an expletive. He attempted to cast another lightning bolt, but he slipped and the spell exploded worthlessly in the undergrowth.

Felix rolled clumsily out from under the towering Vigilant and decided on a change of tact as he staggered to his feet. The silver sword flashed twice across his vision, the first time missing him by a hair’s breadth, the second slashing across his chest. Disappointed by his enchantment and leaking like a wineskin, Felix spat his incantation. His gloves became uncomfortably warm for a moment, and within seconds, the Vigilant was alight and howling in pain. Felix hated killing with fire, and as the stench of his victory filled the air, his eyes sought occupation in tracing the course of Nina’s fight.

His companion lay at the roadside, connected to the second Vigilant by the fists. Nina had found her way to the top of the brawl, and was attempting to shake her right fist free from the Vigilant’s steel-clad grasp. Lightning sprang to Felix’s hands, but he could find no line of sight, and the Nord’s comments on magic still rang in his ears.

“Don’t even think about it,†she grunted over her shoulder. “It’s all… under control.â€

And with that, she let her arms go limp. Her opponent’s moment of surprise was all she needed to drive her forehead sharply downwards and into his septum. Felix winced with the crunch.

~~~

“So there’s one main thing I’m not quite getting,†Nina began, cleaning Felix’s new wound by firelight. “Why in Oblivion were we just spontaneously attacked by the Vigilant of Stendarr?â€

“Well…â€

“Is it true then, the trafficking and consorting and daedra and whatnot?â€

“After a fashion…â€

“I don’t like secrets.â€

Felix sighed, and somewhat reluctantly explained:

“Well, yes, I worship a daedric prince, Meridia specifically. I won’t bore you with the details, but let it suffice to say that the daedra offer more meaning than can be found in a chapel, and they aren’t the monsters the priests would have you believe. Well, not all of them anyway…â€

“Not all of them? I want the whole truth here mage.†Nina’s expression brooked no argument. “Don’t make me punch you.â€

“Alright, alright.†The mage held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, wincing as a band of pain flashed across his chest. “It started at the College of Winterhold-†he paused at Nina’s look of disdain “- I was… disillusioned… with the Nine, along with two of my fellow apprentices. It happens a lot with young mages. We wanted something we could see, or feel, or sense somehow, not the promises of a chapel priest. We formed a coven dedicated to Vaermina, the prince of visions and nightmares, and we fulfilled everything you probably think about mages. I can just see us, candlelit in the midden, meddling with a prince like Vaermina…â€

More than a trace of bitterness had crept into his voice, and Nina was somewhat surprised to see the mage so still.

“Anyway,†he continued abruptly, “I had a… dream the other night, and as it turns out I have some unfinished business at the college. What do you say, a secret for a secret?â€

Nina laughed as she delved into her pack.

“Let’s bandage you up.â€

[Xinimator]

“So....?â€

“So what?â€

Felix waved his hands exasperatedly and looked at her, “I told you my secret. So what about you? Why are you heading towards Winterhold?â€

Nina gave him a reluctant grin, “You should get some sleep. You're not going to be any good if you're snoring through a bandit attack.â€

“I-I don't need sleep,†Felix said, shaking his head quickly. Truth be told, he was working hard to keep his eyes open from what little sleep he had been allowed back at the Tavern. The only thing keeping him awake, however, was the uncertainty of would happen if took even a quick nap. Where Vaermina was concerned, he didn't want to find out, “Come on, Nina, tell me....d-don't make me burn you,†he said timidly.

Nina chuckled quietly and raised an eyebrow at him, making him wince visibly, “You know what, Felix? Leave the threatening to me next time. You're no good at it.â€

“Yeah, well.....you're not the one who got sliced up tonight,†he muttered, clutching at his chest at the sudden onslaught of pain as he shifted himself upright, “But seriously.....what can be worse than consorting with daedra?â€

“Mm, I can think of a couple,†she shrugged and sighed when she saw Felix staring at her expectantly, she groaned, “Dammit....you're not going to leave me in peace until I tell you, are you?â€

When he shook his head silently, she glared at him at him before shaking her head, “Of all the....fine, I guess it won't hurt to tell you a little,†she said with a resigned tone and sat down next to him, “Yesterday a courier gave me a letter, who it came from I have no idea, but all the letter said was to come to Windhelm.â€

“No return address?â€

“Take a look for yourself,†she muttered and pulled out a crinkled-up piece of paper from her pocket before handing it to the mage, “Go ahead and do whatever you want with it....it's not much use to me anymore.â€

Felix nodded and unraveled the paper, his eyes traveling over the few words that were scribbled there and frowning, “'Come to Windhelm. Now.' Not very descriptive, are they?â€

“Tell me about it. I mean....I recognize that writing somewhere, but I just can't remember who, and that's the most frustrating part,†she growled, her hands curling into fists, “I can't tell if this is blackmail or....help,†she said the last one quietly and rested her chin on her knees.

The mage let his gaze rest on her for a little bit before looking back to the piece of paper, scrutinizing it carefully, rubbing his fingernail in a few certain spots, “Well....I don't know what to tell you....except this parchment smells a little funny...â€

“Well, I think the courier might have had a bit of fun in Markarth before he came to the tavern,†Nina mumbled, her eyes wandering the landscape aimlessly.

“Not alcohol....musty. Like it's been underground, or near water.â€

“Okay....Felix, I want you to think about this carefully. Where is Windhelm?†Nina said, taking her eyes away from the trees to look at the bard with a small smile.

“Next to a river?â€

She nodded, “And it's cold. So most houses are...?â€

“Underground,†Felix sighed a little in frustration, “Alright alright, so that doesn't help at all, except maybe confirm where it came from. ...I don't suppose the courier said anything about the sender?â€

“An alchemist. Only problem? I know tons of people who are alchemists. Really doesn't help,†Nina said with a small laugh and shrugged, taking the letter back from Felix, “Thanks for trying anyways, Felix. Gods, I just hate it when stuff like this happens.....I wasn't even planning on going back to that place...â€

“Back?â€

“Oh damn, now I have to explain that too, don't I?†she muttered and chuckled, “Yes, I lived in Windhelm for.... fifteen years, give or take. When I left, well.....I didn't exactly leave the greatest impression for them. Put it this way, we're not going to Windhelm until after Winterhold, 'cause I have no idea if they're going to greet me with boulders, arrows, flaming arrows, or the axe. Heck, probably not even in that order.â€

“That's....quite an impression,†Felix looked at her, his eyes wide in surprise, “What did you do to anger them so?â€

“That's not important.â€

“But--â€

“You're not coming with me to Windhelm,†Nina said darkly, “I'll help you with your situation if you want, but I don't want you caught up in my mess. At least with Daedra, not all of them are for gathering heads and sticking them on pikes.â€

“No...they just steal your soul instead...†he said with a small gulp and shook his head, trying to shake off the horrible thoughts that threatened to take over his mind. “But if that's the case, then....why are you answering the letter, if you're hated so much in Windhelm?â€

“Because,†she said simply, “if it's blackmail, I want to kill the bastard who sent it. If it's a cry for help, though, well....†Nina shrugged gently, “I'm not the type of person that refuses straight out. At least not until I know the situation. And I can't very well send a letter back in either of those cases.â€

With nothing else to say, Felix leaned back against the log, watching the fire snapping at the air, its orange, greedy tongues drawing in more fuel for it. The creatures that lived within the woods were starting to settle down, the nocturnal ones beginning to wake up and begin their own hunt for food. It would have been peaceful, if not for the dark thoughts that clouded both of human's minds.

“You sure you don't need to sleep?†Nina asked suddenly.

“I....I couldn't sleep if I wanted to,†he admitted with a small sigh, “I'm fine now, but I'm....I'm actually afraid of what might happen once sleep catches up to me......Vaermina, I don't know what...†his voice trailed away, his face paling under the firelight at the mere thought of the consequences.

“Ooh.....,†she said quietly, seeing the look on his face and realizing the issue, “I forgot about that little bit.â€

He nodded and Nina sat there, her brain hard at work, trying to figure out a way around this particular dilemma. She knew how to keep him awake for a little while, but she didn't know how long it would be before he resolved this issue he had with the prince. And it would only be a matter of times before those techniques became worthless. But on the other hand, she didn't want to subject him to this particular substance, especially for something it wasn't designed to be used as.

Holding back a rather nasty cuss, she rubbed her temple with her fingertips, until she finally made up her mind, “Alright, hold on...†she said muttered before standing up and heading towards Rain. She opened up one of her bags and rummaged around, looking for something specific. Moments later, she pulled out a small vial and gave it a hard look, biting her lip in thought, before heading back towards Felix and hesitantly handing him the bottle, “This stuff....I'm not really supposed to give you this. But I don't want to see you in the hands of the Daedra either. This is very potent, and very addicting even after a few uses, not to mention some....other side effects...†she said quietly, “But it will keep you awake. Only, and I mean only use this as a last resort. Okay?â€

Felix nodded understandingly and took the bottle into his hands, holding it as if it was very fragile, and peering at the clear liquid contents swirling inside. At first glance it looked like water, but it shimmered against the light as if oily, “This is.....unique,†he said inquisitively, “Erm....side effects?†he had to ask, looking at her quizzically.

She merely shook her head, “Let's just say, you don't want to find out. As I said: last resort. But I've seen my fair share of Daedric infliction, and I don't want that on anyone. Especially on someone I can agree with for once,†she said the last part with a small chuckle and smiled, “Glad to see I'm not the only one who thinks the Nine Divines are a sham. Well, except Talos, but he's still a dead guy. Can't really do much besides moan and drool.â€

This made Felix laugh, at least a little until he started coughing from the pain radiating from his chest at the attempt. “Damn, don't you start dieing on me, dude,†Nina snickered and handed him a water pouch to drink, quickly slipping the small vial in Felix's bag, “I didn't stitch you up to have you bleed all over the place again.â€

“Yeah....s-sorry,†he said quietly, still laughing from her last statement and shook his head, “I just wasn't expecting to hear that from you, of all people.â€

“Uh huh, sure....,†she shook her head with a smile, “What is it with you people, thinking I'm an Imperial, hm?â€

“Imperial? I thought you were--†he was suddenly cut off when her hand clamped around his mouth. Surprised, he frowned at her and she made a motion with her free hand to be quiet before removing her hand. She was staring at something off in the distance, her body tense. Felix dared a glance towards the bushes she was looking at, silently wishing he had enough magicka left in him to cast a Life Detect...

She continued looking at the same spot for another minute before growling in frustration, “Damn....could've sworn that was somebody....†she muttered and shook her head before looking at Felix, “Alright, well....since you're not going to sleep, we might as well keep traveling for a bit.â€

“Wait....you're not tired?â€

“Tired? What's that?†she joked and patted his shoulder, “Come on, let's get you up, eh?â€

[ResolveThatChord]

The tail end of the storm snaked across the skies over the coast. To the north, the sea was beginning to calm down, but here on the land the snow was still falling fast and the wind was strong. All was white save the silhouettes of rocks, the lashing trees, and two dark figures striding against the wind and snow.

They struggled on in silence in the howling wind, one stumbling doggedly, the other methodical and resolute, aided by a walking staff. No conversation passed between them, but the stumbling, larger one received a whack from the staff when he showed signs of slowing.

Sand and ice crunched underfoot. They had made it to the sea. The larger of the two straightened his back, his one remaining cat-like ear flicking. The other remained hunched over his staff, raising a clawed hand to shield his eyes from the wind and snow. Unable to see through the weather, he growled a word, hand waving through the air in a dismissive gesture. For a moment, the snow abated, but the wind remained.

The Khajiit shaman Dro'Rasha peered out to sea, fur flattened against his face by the wind. The tips of the hairs on his face were glued together with ochre paint: white runes under his eyes and across the bridge of his nose, a yellow line across his brow, a red line down his forehead. Standing not far away was a black-furred Khajiit of imposing size and build, glaring at the other and taking no pains to hide his hatred. Before the snow returned to shroud the ocean, both caught a glimpse of a dark, broken shape sticking out of the water. Hela's Folly.

Satisfied, Dro'Rasha turned away, gesturing for the other to follow. In Ta'agra, he spoke: “Not far from here now. Come, Kouro.â€

As they journeyed onwards along the coast, the storm passed overhead and the environment became calm. All was deathly still, save for the gentle lap of the ocean against the ice, and the two figures making tracks in the fresh snow. Their journey eventually took them to the mouth of a cave. Dro'Rasha pulled a hatchet from his pack, and handed it to Kouro. “Here, build a fire.â€

“Why?â€

“Because I told you to.†The shaman had nothing more to say on the matter, and walked to inspect the cave opening.

Eventually enough firewood had been gathered to produce a moderate bonfire. Dro-Rasha had ignited the wood pile with a word, and was sitting with his legs crossed, drawing runes in the wet dirt with a twig, wiping them away, and repeating. His eyes were half closed, and he listened to the world, silent save for the whoosh and crackle of the fire, and the semi-regular thud of the hatchet as Kouro chopped at a log near the cave entrance, where the ground was more rocky.

Kouro carried an armful of wood and threw it on the fire.

“More firewood, Kouro. It must be warmer.â€

Kouro glared at the shaman, tightened his grip on the axe, and returned to his labour. “The girl slave was here.†His voice was sullen, interspersed with violent swings of the hatchet.

“Yes. She survived.â€

“And a caravan of north-men.â€

Dro'Rasha nodded, as if to say, “continueâ€.

“Also an alchemist, and the one who attacked us on the road.†The hatchet thudded into the log. He dislodged the blade, and drew back his arm to swing again. “One like the pale one. Is it her we are hunting now?â€

The shaman closed his eyes, and wiped his hand across his calligraphy, erasing it. “We are hunting, but not for her yet. Now we hunt for serpents.â€

Kouro was staring at his new master as he hacked at the log. “No serpents in these northern places.†He tested the weight of the hatchet, gauging the distance to the shaman. Not too far to throw. He brought it down into the wood again.

“They are not of the north, but they are here nonetheless. They cannot abide the winter, so they sleep, but here it is winter always.†His eyes were still closed, his face was raised to the warmth of the fire. His ears were raised, flicking, as if listening for something. His back was to Kouro. “Their blood flows cold, you see...â€

Kouro swung the hatchet into the log for one final time, then raised it again, arching his arm back in preparation for a killing throw. The motion did not break the rhythm of his work.

“... And so they seek the warmth where they may find it.â€

For a fraction of a second, Kouro paused. Then he leaped to one side, just as a colossal black shape stuck. The giant snake collided with the log, breaking in two. Splinters flew, and Kouro rolled into a

ready crouch, hatchet raised above his head. The snake thrashed around to face him, scattering dirt and snow, and coiling into readiness to strike again.

Kouro and the giant snake locked eyes. Both were tense, ready to attack, waiting for the other to blink. The snake stared, it's eyes vacant of intelligence but full of hunger. Kouro stared back without fear.

The shaman laughed. His laugh was like water lapping in a well. He was still sitting by the fire, by some power unnoticed or unheeded by the snake.

Kouro did not move his gaze from the snake's eyes, but he spoke, “One day, charlatan. One day I will kill you.â€

Dro'Rasha was smiling. He returned his gaze to the fire. “Perhaps... perhaps not. Perhaps if you had sought Chim instead of Dominance, you would not be a slave today. It matters not. You must kill this creature and give me it's fang, or you will die; this is what matters to you, now.â€

Kouro snarled. His eyes burned, and in them there was something that made the snake's gaze, for a brief moment, withdraw.

Then within an instant it struck. It's body extended, fangs snapping shut. The hatchet lay buried in it's right temple, and it's eyes stared vacantly as it's body began to thrash, tearing up earth, unguided by a mind.

Kouro paced around it, waiting for death to take it's body.

If the shaman was impressed, he did not show it. “You are a hunter, Black One. This is your nature, as it was your father's, and as it was his father's.â€

Kouro regarded the snake's death throes in silence.

[DarkRider]

When the storms finally broke, the northern passes of Skyrim were blanketed in a new coat of pure white snow, the air was biting cold, but the sun was warm and the motley crew of unlikely companions abandoned their shack and braved the long ride toward the Mill Tavern.

They stopped in Dragon Bridge long enough to sell off the horses they'd acquired for the ride south, divided the coin, and waited for Duncan to reconcile his contract with the Legion Captain there before they resumed their trek on foot, leading Odin and Jack's grullo colored pinto, Galleon, by their reins along the faintly trodden path.

When the Mill Tavern finally came into view, even those who were looking upon her for the first time felt the outreaching of sanctuary calling them home. Tucked away from the prying eyes of the occasional Legion patrol, her mark missing from any map, the Mill Tavern sheltered all who found their way to her door.

"What a remarkable place for a den of thieves and brigands," Jack mused, "I feel right at ease already."

"Duncan!" a youthful voice greeted cheerily as Ferrin spotted them coming up the road. The stable boy ran to meet them to collect Galleon and Odin from their masters, "Ghost has been here for ages, I turned him out in the high field you were gone so long!"

"Well he's probably good and fat then," Duncan laughed, "he's enjoying it I'm sure, thank you lad."

Duncan introduced his companions to the boy before he hurried off to tend his new charges then lead their sauntering march inside.

When they walked in the door of the tavern they were washed over by the warm spice of meat braising on the spits, the sweet bouquet of hops and honey from the meadery in back, and the lingering swirls of tobacco from the pipe smoke wafting through the air. A traveling minstrel had taken up residence and was playing and singing merrily to himself near the fire. Travelers and residents were scattered around the large main hall, though Duncan saw none of the usual familiar faces among them. There was a young Khajiiti girl sitting at the table nearest the kitchen; a mug was clutched in her hands but she didn’t drink and seemed nervous. A group of merchants, slightly tipped into their mugs, bantered and laughed raucously as they teased the nearest serving wench. A large figure sat in an armchair in a quiet nook by the window, sipping a hot mug and perusing a dusty tome; his hood obscured his features but his size meant he was a Northman, or an Orc, though the latter seldom sought the company of those not their kin. Another Khajiit, this one much darker and male, loomed in a shadowed corner table, taking the occasional drag from a long pipe as his eyes scanned the room. There was no sign of William, Red, Grond, or even Carter; it was a strange homecoming to see so few friends at the hearth.

Balow appeared behind the bar, stopping when he saw them standing in the entryway; his mouth fell agape and he slapped the bar, "Sigur get out here!” he suddenly shouted over his shoulder, “You won't believe who's just come in! You owe me twenty drakes you old skinflint!" his brother in-law appeared from the back and looked at the companions just as dumbly.

"We thought you were dead," he told Duncan when he finally found his voice, fishing twenty drakes from his pocket and passing them to Balow's greedy waiting hand without tearing his bewildered gaze from them.

Duncan approached the counter and sat down on one of the wooden barstools, "We nearly were a few times, but uh, I paid out the year, you lads didn't rent out my room did you?"

They exchanged a glance, "Not to worry he checked out this morning, we'll have your things brought back from the basement," Balow answered with a grin, "Of course there's room for any who need it, but why don't we pour some ale first to celebrate your return...on Sigur!" he added, slapping the twenty drakes down on the bar.

As the ale flowed into cold mugs the minstrel took his cue to begin playing round the room in earnest. Jack bartered with the tavern masters for a room in exchange for some coin and silver baubles he had in his pack. Jayna did the same from her own purse, paying out for a few weeks. She didn’t know how long she would stay, but it seemed for a time she was meant to be in Duncan’s company again. Raurke and Mallory took their leave, quietly slipping unnoticed down the back stairs to the lower corridor of rooms. Duncan drank long from his tankard, before he turned to face the room and leaned back against the bar. It was good to be home.

Jack backhanded him on the bicep, “Fancy a game?” the rogue asked, brandishing a deck of cards.

“Alright,” the Imperial agreed, “but I’ll deal."

"Better let me," Jayn interrupted, snatching the deck from Jack's hand, as they fell around a table with a laugh. The more the minutes passed, the more they were home and the cold dark of the days that had brought them there began to fade into memory.

[charlescrowe]

The Alinoran sunset cast long shadows and stained the gleaming walls of Alinor's capitol building a breathtaking orange. It would have been a beautiful sight, had Dionos not been other-wise occupied; the Skyrim campaign was weighing heavily on his mind, and the news his

subordinate had brought him did nothing to improve his mood. "What!? And all you did was sell him to those mangy Khajiit?" Dionos seethed, a venemous aura building around the Altmer. "Ah, no matter. With any luck, he'll end up in some dark hole somewhere. hopefully within the Dominion." Dionos' furrowed brow relaxed a bit. "How is the Direnni Tower campaign going?"

"Plague and social discord have given Adriane quite a handfull of resources to work with. She's bolstered her numbers with many undead Bretons. Those halfbreeds have proven usefull afterall." The hooded Altmer said, gleefull malice in his voice. "There's a reason why i'm called 'The Master.'"

"Good. You've managed to keep your head for another day, Havan." Dionos said, somewhat placated with the good news. Smiling, Dionos ran a finger across the smooth moonstone of his war axe.

_____________________________________________________

Halligan slammed her fist on the table, flustered and annoyed. "Gods Blood! Edwin was a valuable asset, and a good man. Does he have any next of kin?"

"No Ma'am. His family was at Sentinel..." One of Halligan's retainers answered. The damp tomb went silent as the older members reflected on the Night of Green Fire. Halligan seemed to be the most disheartened; it was her charge who'd failed to act quickly enough.

They'd only found out about Edwin by chance; one of Kematu's men had seen Aramel and Gilgamesh in solitude, gloating over killing the 'traitor and

heathen' and selling a group of adventurers to Khajiiti slavers.

"This Direnni Tower business is troubling as well. Maybe we should wake him and have him deal with that directly; traveling is such a pain for me." Halligan conjured a spectral raven and sent it off with a message.

[DarkRider]

Duncan slept, but for hours it was not the easy sleep of an unburdened man. His mind drifted back in time, replaying the events of the last many days in the wilds of Skyrim. He had killed before, in the name of duty, in the name of revenge, but he had never been want to take an equally unwilling life in the name of sport. His consciousness lingered over the faces of the men he’d been forced to slay until his father’s voice echoed in his memory dispersing the visions of death, “Skyrim is a brutal land, the first land; it will change who you are, Duncan, but only if you let it.” Finally sleep overtook his weary body and mind; he wasn’t changed…not yet.

The next morning the calm center of his being was much restored and Duncan made his way down to the main hall of the Mill Tavern. Several patrons from the night before were draped over their tables, snoring as drool puddled under their cheeks. As he approached the bar, Sigur appeared from the back and set a warm honeyed meade and a creamy bowl of porridge in front of him as if he was expected.

“Nice to have you back Lad,” the older man said quietly off the cuff as he resumed his chores of stocking the pits with fresh wood and wiping out mugs for the evening crowd.

“Quiet morning,” Duncan noted as he tucked into his meal, “where is everyone?”

Sigur shrugged, “Most are still sleeping I reckon, that girl, Jayna she said, she took that fancy crossbow of hers out to the cove an hour ago.”

The Imperial chuckled and shook his head, “Sounds like her,” he mused. His attention was drawn to the door when it opened suddenly. The dark furred Khajiit he had seen the night before stood there holding the door open, their eyes locked for a distinct moment, and then the cat stepped outside, closing the door behind him. Duncan turned back to Sigur.

“What do you know about that Khajiit?”

The barkeep shrugged, “He ent been much for talking, turned up here a couple days after you and the others left. When Carter came back they had some words, but I dunno anything more about that.”

“Gives me an uneasy feeling,” Duncan noted, taking a swig of his meade, “Where’s Balow?”

Sigur thumbed toward the door, “Outside hitching up a wagon, he’s gotta make a supply run to Half-Moon Village, be gone a day or two.”

“Supply run? I thought there was an agreement that Balow and horses do not mix?”

Sigur laughed, “Well yeah…that’s usually true, but I twisted my ankle yesterday in a fox hole out back, I’ll be damned if I can’t brace myself driving a wagon.”

“I could make that run for you Sigur,” Duncan offered as he finished his meal.

“Thank you Lad, but you just got back and all,” the barkeep began.

Balow interrupted as he appeared in the doorway, propping the door open, “Let him take that ride if he wants,” he chipped in his two cents. Only as he came closer could they see how disheveled he was, “I couldn’t even get that nag into the harness!”

“That settles it,” Duncan grinned as Balow passed him the supply list and a satchel of gold coins.

“Go…with my blessing,” the older man chortled happily, slapping Duncan on the shoulder as he retreated behind the bar to the safety of more menial tasks.

Duncan tucked the supply list and money into his belt and headed to his room to collect his gear before starting out for the stable. The wagon was already pulled up in front of the Tavern. Ferrin was trying unsuccessfully to coax Sigur’s old nag back into her stall. A familiar equine face peered over one of the stall doors and nickered at him. Duncan walked up to Ghost and gave him a good pat on his cheek.

“Hey old boy,” he said gently, “You feel up to hauling a wagon?”

“You know this is a nice hideout you boys have found here,” Jayna noted as she approached him from behind, “Ghost in a wagon huh? Who’s going to be your second?”

Duncan shrugged, “Dunno, Sigur’s old lady doesn’t like any of these others.”

Jayna laughed, “Can you blame her? How about Odin? I’ll loan him to you if you take me along.”

The Imperial pretended to mull it over, “Well…alright but I can’t promise I’ll bring you back.”

“Ghost will have a hard time hauling all those supplies back alone,” she replied smugly.

They set to suiting their mounts into the hauling rigs and hooking them up to the wagon. Ghost went in willingly for a carrot but Odin needed some convincing to follow. Once tied in side by side the two heavy geldings waffled and stamped next to one another as if trying to sort out who was in charge; tossing their heads in the heavy rigs. Duncan climbed into the driver’s seat and Jayna hopped up beside him. As Duncan took the reins in hand the dark Khajiit appeared beside him, leading his charcoal colored roan by his reins.

“My name is Rae’Gar,” he introduced himself evenly, his ease with Imperial language was unusual for a Khajiit, especially among those in Skyrim, “the boy says this wagon is going to Half-Moon Village, I would like to ride along with you if you have no objection.”

“Sure thing,” Jayna answered obliviously, “you can tie your horse to the buckboard and ride in back if you like.”

“Thank you,” he replied, “but I’ll ride,” he said as he lead his horse behind the wagon and mounted up.

Jayna swatted Duncan’s bicep, “You alright?”

He nodded, “Yeah...just feels like a storm is brewing,” he raised the reins and dropped them easily onto the horses’ backs and clicked his tongue to push them forward. The two steeds pulled out of step and in two different directions before the harness and the wagon’s momentum forced them into step, the wagon creaking and wobbling as they headed down the uneven path leading away from the tavern.

[the-manta]

The College had dominated the Winterhold skyline since the Great Collapse, the last vestige of the great city that was once capital of all Skyrim. The castlesque construction perched unsteadily on a twisting column of stone, carved out of the cliff face by the Sea of Ghosts, and holding steadfast against the icy gales characteristic of the northern Hold. In the central tower was a wide window bearing the emblem of the College; a silvery eye observing what remained of Winterhold. It observed also the figures of two riders coming to a stop outside of the Frozen Hearth, their mounts snorting steam into the snow-laden air.

“This place must be one of the saddest little towns in all Skyrim,†said Nina as the pair dismounted. “And the whole place reeks of magic.â€

Felix laughed half-heartedly, and turned his eyes from the tavern to the looming college.

“Do you want me to wait here or…?†offered his companion.

Felix briefly considered. He supposed this was something he should do alone, but he had become quite used to the rowdy Nord’s company, and the sinking feeling in his stomach craved companionship.

“Actually, some support might be appreciatedâ€.

Nina merely nodded and called out for a stablehand.

At the bridge, Nina and Felix were met by an Altmer woman of contemptuous aspect. Felix bit his cheek and prayed to Meridia that she wouldn’t prove too abrasive.

“Oh, so you’re back†she drawled, “and you’ve brought a friend.â€

Already the Breton could sense Nina’s hackles rising.

“Yes, which I believe you’ll find is entirely acceptable. I am still a member in good stead,†he replied.

The elf treated each of them to a haughty look. “Mm, yes, I suppose. Wouldn’t have killed the pair of you to dress for the occasion, however.â€

“I’m perfectly dressed for the occasion of knocking you right off this bridge,†was Nina’s scowling response.

The gatekeeper spent only a moment longer on affronted looks, and allowed the pair to pass.

The wind-swept courtyard was quiet. With the winds picking up, most appeared to have taken their work indoors, and those who shared the path with Nina and Felix were hurrying by, heads bowed and hoods raised. Felix could sense that Nina was uneasy. She seemed almost to scowl at the magelights and magicka wells, and the set of her shoulders seemed decidedly defensive.

“That makes two of us,†he thought.

The Hall of Elements was quieter still. Felix remembered the sense of reserve, even reverence, the soaring hall evoked. With the snow beginning to swirl around the stained glass windows, the Hall of Elements felt more and more isolated. A small stone bubble, entirely separate from the mundane concerns of those beyond its boundaries. For a moment Felix could remember his first days at the College, a bewildered apprentice with more hopes than experience.

“Felix Rosaire, back again I see.†The voice was strident and feminine, level and commanding, somehow ideal for the Hall of Elements.

“Yes, Master Wizard,†he replied, turning to face her. “I’m looking…â€

“For your old friends, of course.†Ervine pursed her lips. “You were an ill-fated group it appears; only one now remains. I can have him sent for if you’d like.â€

Felix had barely opened his mouth when great doors creaked open. For a moment, the illusion of isolation was split apart by a strip of light, a gust of cold. And then, with a dull thud, restored. Itius Kvenin had always been the listener, the watcher. Nothing came through the college that his beady eyes did not detect. He was not a tall man, but thin and gaunt in such a way that almost gave the impression of height. A wry smile twisted his creased lips, and Felix was struck by how far he had aged.

“My old friend. You look tired,†he observed. “Please, Master Wizard, let two friends have a moment.â€

When Felix failed to object, Ervine complied, but Felix was somewhat comforted to note that Nina had remained. Kvenin seemed almost not to see her.

“You know why I’ve come, then.†The Breton’s words were not a question.

“But of course…†began the gangly Imperial.

Sparks came to life at Felix’s fingertips as he stepped forward. Nina loosened her dagger in its sheath.

“Really, Felix, what are you going to do? Strike me down in the Hall of Elements? Sweep into Winterhold a storm of vengeance? No, no,†he laughed, “that’s not you at all. It never was. I feel we may have… a few things to discuss. Your bodyguard can come too.â€

Nina shook her dagger a little looser.

"Bodyguard..."

Kvenin’s private chamber was cramped and windowless, with a sickly magelight dancing on row upon row of bottles and jars. In the corner, alchemical apparatus smoked and bubbled, sending oily fumes to decorate the cluttered table and chairs where Nina and Felix sat.

The Nord had spent time in a number of alchemical laboratories, but this one, she reflected, had to be the most dismal, and the strangest. She wasn’t sure she could even read some of Kvenin’s dusty labels, and the smoke made breathing a chore. She refused without ceremony the alchemist’s offer of a glass of wine, and while her companion had accepted, she noticed only Kvenin was drinking.

“What does it all mean?†Felix tentatively cracked the pregnant silence.

His old colleague cleared his throat. “You’ve been dreaming again, correct?â€

Felix nodded.

“And you’re new Prince has not defended you, correct?â€

Felix slowly shook his head.

“And,†the alchemist leant forward, grinning in the magelight, “you’ve found your pendant, correct?â€

Felix withdrew it slowly from his pocket.

“You’ll have noticed,†the Imperial continued, taking it from him, “that there is not much of a coven here now. Vedrin and Edla left like you, Taleez was expelled, Maregoth died. That only leaves me, and Lecelle. I suppose two founding members out of three isn’t bad.†He handed the pendant back, and grinned wolfishly as Nina’s eyes flicked over him. She looked ready to pipe up, but decided to leave Felix to it.

“Mirabelle Ervine told us you were the only one left.â€

“The only one left here. I have remained and gained much from Vaermina’s insights.†He waved a hand over his laboratory. “Lecelle has chosen a different path, one that has taken him away from here.â€

Felix rubbed his temples. Nina’s potion was beginning to wear off, and several days with about as many hours of real sleep were beginning to catch up on him.

“Enough of this. Why have I been dreaming? What is Lecelle doing?â€

“Redundancy is an unbecoming trait in your line of questioning.â€

The alchemist’s self-assurance was maddening.

“I cannot tell you why you have been dreaming, or rather, I will not. What I will tell you is what you must do now.â€

In one motion, Nina drew her dagger, and seized Kvenin by his collar.

“I’ve had just about enough of your games, pal. Perhaps you’d better just give my friend here what he wants, and I won’t have to get arrested.â€

For a moment, surprise lit the alchemist’s stained eyes, but the infuriating grin returned as they flicked between the knife and Nina’s face.

“Please, Miss Alamain, you’re embarrassing yourselfâ€.

His gloved hand took hold of Nina’s and gently removed it from his collar, revelling in her unease. This was not a woman used to making unsuccessful threats, nor one happy to find daedra cultists in possession of her personal information.

“Let’s try and resolve this without bloodshed,†he said. “In any case, my old friend will soon find I am a piece of the puzzle he cannot do without.â€

Nina reluctantly resumed her seat, and gave Felix a stare that said ‘let’s get this over with’.

“Lecelle has taken his work to a cave, due east of here, at the water’s edge. It will not prove hard to find; Lecelle wants no further delays. Now, if you’ll both excuse me, I have much work to attend to…â€

Before either of the pair could object, Kvenin had rose from his chair and swept from the room, leaving Felix feeling disturbed, confused and impotent. There was a moment’s silence before Nina exhaled loudly.

“We could smash a few things if it would make you feel betterâ€.

[WillieSea]

Somewhere in the wilds of Skyrim…

Small flakes of snow slowly drifted down out of the overcast sky as William sat motionless, half way up a tree. He closely watched the game trail in the snow a short distance below him. As he waited, his mind wandered again to thoughts of the Tavern where he had met some interesting people.

It wasn’t that he liked being alone, he had spent the last several years being alone. But something stirred inside of him, and almost primal need for companionship. He had not realized that he missed it so much until he had been with them for a while. He thought he did not need friends, that he did not need anyone but himself, after he had left his home as a teen, to find his place in the world.

He sighed, creating a cloud of moisture in the frigid air. He hated to admit it, but it had been good to be with others. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the squeaky sound of snow compacting a short distance away, a slow and purposeful pace as it walked through the snow and along the trail.

Moving carefully himself, Will pulled the arrow back and sighted down the shaft as the Elk came around a bend in the trail, past a giant pine tree. It raised its head and sniffed at the air. A grunt escaped its lips and its eyes bulged as it turned to run, giving Will sight of its flanks. The arrow cut swiftly through the cold air and found its mark in the heart of the giant beast. Its legs dug at the ground in its attempt to escape before the head and body crashed down to the ground, dead.

The legs kicked a few more times as the warm blood melted into the now stained snow. Will closed his eyes and thanked whatever god was listening for the bounty, carefully put his bow away and climbed down the tree. He whistled three sharp tones into the cold air as he pulled his skinning knife out and advanced on the downed Elk.

The antlers, hide and meat would fetch a good price, plus he would have a good meat dinner tonight. He happily set about dressing the Elk as Night trotted out of the trees and nuzzled him on the back of the head. Will reached up and scratched her neck and then pulled a carrot out of a saddlebag, offering it to her. Night snorted at the scent of blood in the air and then greedily accepted the carrot with a nicker of approval.

It wasn’t long before Will had the best parts of the Elk strapped to Night and they were heading back towards the main road. Behind them the remains of the cooling Elk slowly attracted the carrion eaters. Nothing would be wasted in this wilderness.

[Xinimator]

“Would've been easier to just knock her off the bridge...â€

“Then I would have to be explaining to the whole counsel why I let a Nord run around the college and kill someone,†Felix growled at her and hoisted his bag over his shoulder more comfortably, “You know, when I said let's go smash some stuff, I didn't mean people's faces.â€

“She insulted me!†Nina said, rubbing her hand gingerly from the punch, “Called me a mindless barbarian, that stupid little knife-ear....â€

“Well, weren't you?†the Breton asked, smiling a little as she scowled at him; the effect was only lessened by the fact the snow was starting to fall heavily upon the group and cloud their vision, “You did threaten to throw her off the bridge as your first impression.â€

“She's a mage, I'm sure she knows how to fly,†she mumbled and shrugged.

“Yes, I'm sure she could have....three hundred years ago, when it was still legal,†he rolled his eyes.

“Oi, just like that waterwalking deal....too many people were drowning walking on the ocean, the morons. Ya know, I say let nature deal them out. If they don't want to take a ship, that's their own damn problem, but don't make the rest of us suffer for it. Nothing like a few floating bodies to set an example for the others.â€

“'The rest of us'?†Felix asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“You know who I'm talking about,†she shook her head quickly and glared at him.

“Uh huh.....well, same problem with flying. At least so the counsel claimed.â€

“Didn't they also ban necromancy?â€

“Mages Guild did that, not us. Speaking of mages....why the sudden fascination in magic, Nina?†he asked and laughed at the look on her face.

“How about trying to distract you from the fact I hurt your little elf friend?†Nina replied. It was Felix's turn to glare at her, “I had a very good excuse for doing what I did!â€

“She insulted you....with words. How does that justify getting half of her face broken into?!â€

“She's an Altmer, she really doesn't need an excuse.â€

Felix sighed exasperatedly, “By the gods, Nina......you know, not all high elves are part of the Thalmor.â€

“Well sorry if I nearly got killed by knife-ears a million times in a row,†she yelled, a tone in her voice that suggested that they were done with that particular conversation or else she was going to make it stop, “But if the mages banned waterwalking, then why didn't they do the same thing for waterbreathing? I mean, that's the same damn thing. The spell wears off and, oh look, you're stuck in a ship on the bottom of the lake. Really, I don't think somebody thought this through very well when they proposed it.â€

“And here I thought you hated magic,†Felix said with a chuckle.

“You know, you don't always have to be a mage to know what common sense is, and that was just not common sense on their part. Just like that cave entrance,†she said, pointing her finger at distant figures through the heavy snow. Strange blue light shined across the snow and towering glaciers that surrounded the entrance, certainly not the likes of which Nina had ever seen before, “Doesn't that just yell 'rob me!'?†she asked and grinned.

“Kvenin did say that Lecelle wanted no further delays...†Felix replied quietly.

“When he said that, I didn't think this Lecelle guy would be literally yelling 'come on in! It's nice and comfortable! Free food and ale for everybody!',†she joked animatedly, her hands beckoning to invisible people to come towards her before finally groaning, “Oh, I can tell this is going to be a very nasty trap...â€

Felix was more than inclined to agree with her, even have a fleeting thought of abandoning the whole mission. But feeling the presence of the small skull-carved stone in his pocket, he set his shoulder straight and said with an air of resolve, “Nevertheless, we need to face Lecelle.....or rather, I have to face him,†he added quietly and looked at Nina, “If, um, this is too--â€

“Felix, I have nothing better to do than to go to a slum-city and deal with an army of drunken soldiers,†Nina interrupted, holding a hand up to silence him before smirking, “So how about we just go in there, kick Lecelle's butt, and come out with you being daedra-free, hm?â€

“Not sure if it'll be that simple,†he said honestly, “This is daedra princes we are talking about here. Vaermina, of all the gods.â€

“Fine, then just kicking Lecelle's poor, doomed rump. I ain't coming out of that place without giving that guy some bit of Oblivion to remember me by. I'll even make Vaermina look tame, if you want me to.â€

Felix laughed and patted Nina on the shoulder, “As long as you leave some for me.â€

Nina erred and shrugged before finally relenting. Just as the sky was darkening in approach to the coming night, they made it to the entrance of the cave. The sounds of the ocean could be heard right next to them and while Nina scowled at the sources of light, floating balls of unnaturally bright light, she said nothing as they ducked under the frozen rock out of the snowstorm. The two took a small break as Felix warmed up his hands, giving Nina time to scout ahead for any signs of enemies or traps. But instead, “....Yo, Felix?â€

“What?â€

“Okay, I may just be an idiot and just not recognize this, but....did the Dwarves use white rock for their structures?â€

“White rock?†Felix blinked a little in surprise, “No, the Dwemer used natural stone and dwarven metal. There's really no white rock around Skyrim. I could be mistaken, but that was what I last heard.â€

“Well then, who'd the dumb idiot to be using white rocks?†she yelled, which made Felix frown and rush over to Nina's position, driven by curiosity and a bit of sheer annoyance that she couldn't come over herself.

But that annoyance was soon forgotten as he laid his eyes upon the clean, white block that protruded from the cave's walls; nothing carved onto the stone, and not a shred of metal to be found, “....could be Chimer, but I never heard of any of them coming this far north, and they were more fond of mazes than straight-shot tunnels...†he commented as he looked further down the cavern, where more of the mysterious architecture could be seen.

“Well, whoever was the architect didn't think ahead far enough...it's a miracle this tunnel hasn't collapsed yet,†Nina mumbled and kicked the rock with her boot, “Alright, rule number one on this expedition: don't blow anything up. Unless in an emergency. Even then, don't blow anything up. I don't know if this place even has a back door after this, and I don't want to know when we're trapped.â€

“I'll try...†he said and suddenly groaned, leaning into the wall next to him as he clutched at his head. His head felt like it was being split apart into several pieces, “Argh!â€

“What?†Nina said quickly, snapping her head around to look at Felix. Seeing him about to collapse, she rushed over and quickly brought him down onto the smooth ground, mumbling a few vulgar words under her breath as she placed the back of her hand on his head and noticing he was feverish, “Dammit....I said last resort, you know.â€

The Breton shook his head and slammed his head into the wall, in hopes of diverting some of the pain; unfortunately, he ended up seeing double for a moment as the pain worsened and had to resist the urge to throw up all over Nina, “I know, but....well, it was. The last resort, I mean. But I think it's wearing off....â€

“Feels like nails be pounded against your head?â€

“Worse.â€

“Of course it is,†Nina said and sighed, “That would be the side effects from the potion. After the headache, you'll get a fever, start shaking a little....well, apparently a lot in your case, then get a little hyper, maybe a little bloodletting, then you get a major crash. After that, should be no problems, hopefully....â€

“Er....b-bloodletting?â€

“You start coughing up blood.â€

Felix blinked at her and gave her a wary look, “Erm....i-is this safe?â€

“If it was safe, I would have given it to you without complaining. Of course it's not safe!â€

“And....you still gave me this?â€

“Kept you awake, didn't it?â€

“Well yes, but it's wearing off now!â€

“Yeah, you'll be sleeping all the way home, most like.â€

“Sleeping? T-that's not good thing, Nina,†Felix said, a hint of fear in his voice, “I can't sleep, you know that.â€

“Yeah yeah, I know....daedra,†she said and waved her hand to silence him, “I know that. You got a couple of days before that crash kicks in. So, how about we stop yammering about ethical stuff and go smash this Lecelle person's head quickly, hm? Cause you're starting to get feverish.â€

He nodded; apparently even that little shake he made was too much as he suddenly groaned and clutched at his head, “By the gods....Nina, you drink this stuff? Why?†he asked, looking at her with worry.

She regarded him silently for several moments before shaking her head, “The headache won't last long. Couple of minutes and you should be able to start walking again. Just mind your aim when your hands start shaking, aye?â€

Felix noticed she had dodged the question and opened his mouth to ask it again, only for Nina to interrupt, “Felix, please...it's been a long few days, I'm already getting sick of all this magic here, and you've been asking me very personal questions of the late,†she gave a sort of a sad half-smile, “Let's just go kill some rogue wizards and forget about my stinkin' life, okay? It's really not that interesting.â€

“I beg to differ.....†Felix muttered and shook his head softly, “I-I think the headache's getting better?â€

“Oi, take your time,†she said quietly, “I'd hate to have to face all those zombies by myself, you know.â€

“Zombies?â€

“That's what it's smelling like at the moment. Wonderful necromancers are, aren't they?â€

Or daedra, Felix mused to himself and slowly managed to work his way up on the wall, his head pounding from the exertion, but thankfully without feeling like he was going to black out, “Okay, I think I'm....I think I'm okay. We should....get going....â€

“Ugh....You people never listen, and yet you wonder why I prefer solitary confinement...†Nina couldn't help but mutter and stayed next to Felix, helping him down the steep slope into the strange new ruins, “So whenever you feel up to it, how about telling me a little bit about Lecelle?â€

[DarkRider]

The road to Half-Moon Village was a long one, but the Bartaps had a long standing relationship with the traders there and had made the trip many times over the years, so Duncan would see the job through as promised despite the temptation to fill his supply list at local farms and villages. The first leg of their trip was uneventful, by dusk the fire lights of Rorikstead were guiding them in to shelter for the night. Duncan pulled the wagon up behind the Frostfruit Inn where he and Jayna set to unhitching the horses for the night. The Imperial watched their dark furred companion out of the corner of his eye. Rae’Gar had been quiet the whole ride, following them at a comfortable distance, occasionally riding ahead to rout some scavenging wolf or grazing herd from their path. When they’d stopped to water the horses or break for lunch Rae’Gar had followed their lead without joining them. All the while though, Duncan could feel the cat’s icy blue eyes tracking his every move, it was like being hunted in the wilds.

“If you keep that up he’s sure to notice,” Jayna said, interrupting his thoughts.

“Let him,” Duncan retorted with a frown, “if he’s going to track my every move, the least I can do is return the favor.”

Jayna waited to reply until Rae’Gar had finished turning out his horse and had left the yard for the shelter of the inn, “Listen Greyer, I’ve known a few Khajiiti in Skyrim and this one is…different. He doesn’t shy his eyes when spoken to, doesn’t hunch his shoulders,” Duncan shook his head to dismiss her and she took his arm, “This one doesn’t tilt, you get it?”

“I get it, I do,” he answered sincerely as he pulled loose from her grip, “but I don’t tilt either not to this cat or any other.”

“He doesn’t even sound like a Khajiit,” Jayn pressed her argument, “he sounds far too Imperial for my liking. He wears the armor of a penitus for Stendarr’s sake, and last I checked you were still a deserter.”

Duncan paused, “So, you think that’s what he wants?” after a moment’s consideration he shook his head, “no, no he’s no penitus. That armor’s been refit, it wasn’t made for him, and he’s gone to some lengths to destroy their brand. It has to be something else.”

“Whatever it is I wish he’d get on with it,” Jayn sighed.

Duncan laughed shortly, “Same here. Come on, dinner is on me,” he said, leading the way into the inn where they could shelter for the night.

[ResolveThatChord]

Rimat was soaked. She was cold, alone and hungry. They had passed the imperial border patrol three days ago, and now as the sun set a storm rolled in from the north that made you want to be anywhere in Tamriel other than some gods-awful forest in the south of Skyrim.

Maenam had sent her to find food while he stayed in the warm, dry cave they had stumbled across. She had no idea which plants here were edible, and could barely see through the dark and the rain. Really she knew she had no chance of finding anything, but she was still hungry enough to try.

She stumbled on blindly, pushing through damp foliage. With each step her shoes sunk to ankle depth in a layer of rotting leaves and mud.

Lightning flashed. With the sudden illumination Rimat saw the silhouette of an animal; some big, shaggy thing with antlers. A moose or something. As her eyes readjusted to the dark, she found she could still barely make out where it was. Thunder boomed, following the lightning loudly and aggressively. The animal seemed unperturbed, merely flicking it's ear and not lifting it's head from whatever on the ground was occupying it's attention.

This seemed like the best chance at dinner she was going to get. She didn't have a bow, just a cheap hunter's knife. She wouldn't know how to begin going about killing an animal of that size with it. She'd have to use magic.

She didn't want to. She could sense that she was down to the last dregs of her magical reserves, and who knew how long it would be before any came back to her? She'd be ready to qualify this situation as an emergency, but by all accounts “emergency†was business as usual in Skyrim.

Another flash of lightning let her survey her surroundings. She was making too much noise in this muck. If she got much closer the beast would probably hear her and bolt. There was a great fallen tree jutting out over a dip in the ground, pointing right at the animal. She could get onto that and crawl closer in relative silence.

She stood still, and then when the thunder came, she moved quickly, scrambling to the trunk and climbing onto it. Perhaps she was being overcautious; after all she could barely hear herself think over the sound of the rain and wind. The moose was probably no better off. She straddled the trunk and shuffled forward toward her prey, blessing her own foresight to wear a decent pair of trousers under her robe. Progress was slow and slippery. Lightning frequently lit the forest, and the thunder was deafening. The animal didn't seem to care. “I like this moose,†Rimat muttered. “Moose doesn't give a damn.â€

Soon she was close enough to see it clearly. By this point she was at the end of the trunk. Cautiously, she slowly stood. She took a deep breath.

Perhaps her prey had finally detected her movement, or maybe something else had caught it's attention. To Rimat it looked like it had just suddenly remembered something important, because it raised it's head, standing very still and staring into the middle distance.

Rimat realised she didn't want to kill it. Most of the meat she ate, when she could afford meat, came from the hawker's food-carts. You generally didn't want to ask where it came from before that. Delicious, of course, but.... dubious. In any case, this big, dumb animal probably didn't deserve to die. Look at it- cocking it's head like it's trying to do a hard maths problem.

On the other hand, this country had offered her no mercy at all since she crossed the border. Wouldn't it be great to just let loose some fireballs and give it some payback... Also, she was hungry, cold, and somewhere nearby there was a warm, dry cave with an insufferable Altmer where she'd rather be. “Sorry, big guy.†she muttered.

And with that her arm whipped out to point at the animal's head. Lightning lit the forest again, brighter than ever, this time arcing blindingly from her index finger. Rimat felt the hairs on her arms and neck rising, felt the flow of magic shifting and burning. She was filled momentarily with exhilaration. Gods, it felt good to cast.

And then emptiness. A sinking feeling, and loss- it was gone. All gone. That was the last of her magicka. From birth, she had been stunted; she could not regenerate it naturally, nor alchemically. She could only absorb it from spells, and then only rarely. And since Skyrim so far seemed only to hold trees, mud, xenophobic farmers, and vaguely adorably elk, it seemed that it would be a long time before she would cast a spell again.

Coming down was always hard. She stood in the rain with her shoulders slumped as she waited for her eyes to readjust to the dark.

After a moment, she could see that off in the distance a tree had ignited and split. Even now there was a cracking noise, and it collapsed with a crash. The moose didn't bother to look up.

She had missed. Or maybe it had looked down again as she had fired, or... Damn it. Damn it, Damn it-

A slight shift of her weight, and suddenly her shoe lost it's grip on the trunk. Her leg slipped outward, and she fell, first banging her shin on the trunk, then crashing down and sinking into the rotting leaves and mud.

At least it was soft and deep enough to safely catch her fall. And slimy. And surprisingly warm. She closed her eyes. Maybe she'd lie there for a bit...

She shrieked as something wet and warm brushed her face. She scrambled backwards, there was something huge standing over her...

The moose licked her face again. Oh.

It's tongue was kind of coarse. Tentatively she reached up and stroked it's muzzle. “So, now we're friends then? You bastard?†She sat up.

“Let me tell you something. You're still alive and not dinner because I'm cursed. They call it the curse of ash, and that it stains my skin grey, but it's more than that. It means everything I try will blow up in my face, everything goes to ash.â€

She'd like to think the moose was listening, but really it seemed more interested in sniffing and biting at her shawl.

“And the moment you think things can only get better, you can-â€

The moose abruptly lost interest, stepping back from her an trotting off, sneezing and shaking it's head.

“Yeah, good point. Better hoof it.†She got up and brushed herself off, picked a leaf out of her hair, and got her bearings. Then she headed off, back in the direction that seemed most familiar.

[charlescrowe]

The frigid northern waters of Skyrim would have stolen Malori's breath, had she needed any, as she washed up in the river behind the Tavern. How long had it been since she had been able to enjoy a real bath with hot water and perfumes? Raurke was a short distance away, on the opposite shore doing the same, and Malori caught him more than once sneaking glances at her with a smile. She knew she should be embarrassed, but he knew her more intimately than should be possible for mortals. There was a sudden fluttering of wings, and a sinking feeling tugged at her gut as she caught sight of a great spectral raven roosted on a nearby limb. Raurke hurriedly pulled on his trousers and flitted over to the raven.

Raurke glanced over the first page of the message the raven carried and set it aflame with a wave of his hand, then read the second with a stern look.

Raven,

Our Highrock contacts have informed us of Thalmor activity at Direnni Tower. More details, as well as a shipment supplies and expenses will arrive in 3 weeks time in Solitude. Travel there by way of Dragon Bridge to dispose of Thalmor operatives located near the village. Our own operative they killed was a good man. If needed, a room in the Winking Skeever has been reserved for you under the name ‘Derek Lexington’, which will remain your code name for this operation.

Regards,

Jackdaw.

Raurke sighed and set this page aflame as well. “It looks like we’ll be travelling again… Highrock… not a bad exchange in climate I suppose, though society’s going to be a lot stuffier than here.†By now, Malori had dressed and made her own way over to the raven and was now petting it gently with a smile. The pair dismissed the raven and went back into the Tavern to pack and see about their rooms with Balow.

As they reached the end of the Tavern's road, they happened upon Manan trying to fix a wagon he'd managed to procure somewhere. "Ho, Raurke! Some assistance for an old man, per chance?" Manan shouted as the Revenants neared. "I seem to have gotten a raw deal on this cart. Bloody wheel's come off, and I'm not strong enough to fix it." The sly old merchant smiled.

"Aye, I guess it wouldn't hurt. Malori, the wheel please, love." Raurke grunted out as he lifted the cart. "Been working that silver tongue of yours again, yeah? I can't imagine this is all from the cats." Malori slipped the wheel back on the axle and drove home the cotter pins to hold it in place.

Manan chuckled. "No, managed to haggle this stuff away from one of the captains docked in Dawnstar. You two traveling then? I'd avoid going to Solitude dressed like that. Brotherhood's been seen skulking about lately, and the Thieves guild's on the rise as well. Gaurds'll likely give you no end of trouble in that armor." Manan grinned, then went to his cart. "Ah, I've got some good clothing that'll make you look like everyday travellers. For a price, of course."

[Vereta]

Nala was appalled by her current direction in life. After Balow had patched her up and a good night's sleep she figured she'd pack what little she had and left. Then the oddest thought struck her. What if she stayed here at the tavern a little longer? Nala had laughed at that idea. She had realized her flighty nature after her unceremonious removal from Riften forced her to travel. When she first left Riften, Nala travelled from place to place without an actual destination in mind and without fully realizing that she was doing so, as though she were in a trance. She could never find it in herself to settle down and start anew without having the slightest idea as to why she couldn't. She had long come into terms with this though and had decided she didn't particularly mind travelling all across Skyrim. This was why the idea of staying at this tavern for even a day longer felt so alien to her. Yet here she was, sitting crossed legged in the middle of the room Balow had graciously bestowed upon her. She had decided to stay a while longer, but what that meant was unknown to her.

As Nala tugged thoughtfully at a strand of hair the door to her room crashed open and in came Balow.

"Mornin' lass! It's time fer you to..." He started with a grin before he gave Nala a confused look. "Why're ye sittin' in the middle of the floor...?"

Nala grinned sheepishly at Balow as she clambered off the floor and onto her feet.

"It's... a habit of mine," She answered.

"Right, I'll be waiting fer you so make yerself ready. We have things to discuss," Balow told her before leaving the room.

Nala frowned. Despite how kind Balow had been to her since she had met him, Nala couldn't help but feel a little suspicious as to what he may have wanted. She almost felt guilty for feeling suspicious. Almost. Who knows, perhaps she was overreacting.

--

When Nala came into the tavern's main room she spotted a bowl of porridge sitting at the bar. Other than her, no one else seemed to be in the room so she decided to help herself. Heck, for all she knew Balow had set it out for her.

"Don't mind if I- Ow!" She cried out, cradling her hand.

She glared at Balow who seemed to have appeared out of thin air. In his hand he held the offending spoon that he had smacked her hand with and had a mischievous look about him.

"A few things need be said before ye eat, lass," He said with a grin. "If ye want to eat then ye will need to work for it."

"Was the spoon thing even necessary?" She said as she grabbed the broom Balow offered her.

Balow simply laughed and instructed her on what needed to be done around the tavern.

[ResolveThatChord]

The cave was marginally warmer, but a lot drier. It was a relatively well-kept living space, for a cave at least; some furniture had been left by the previous inhabitants. It was dark, though, and Rimat hit her head on the low opening as she entered.

Maenam was seated at a rickety wooden table, writing something in a scroll. He was still wearing his black coat. A mage-light hovered about his head, his face was cast in shadow by his hood. He noticed Rimat enter, and quickly finished writing, then sealed the scroll. Finally he turned to look at her, and looked affronted on seeing her covered in mud and leaves.

“What happened? Are you alright?†He had the typical hollow cheeks and triangular jaw of a high elf. He looked to be quite young for one with his kind of authority, but maybe he was a necromancer. Rimat guessed he was around thirty. He kept his blonde hair long, at the moment it was spilling around his neck and out of his hood.

“Fine, why?†She rubbed her forehead.

“You're covered in detritus. Here, the fire's gone down. You should get warm. There's kindling and a few more dry pieces over in the corner.†He turned back to his table, and began writing on a new sheet of parchment.

Rimat fetched the firewood and knelt down by the remaining embers. She scraped the coals closer together with her grey fingers, and began to rebuild the fire.

“No luck then?†Maenam didn't look up from his work.

“Nope.†Rimat blew on the fire a few times to get it going. “It's nasty out there. Could barely see a thing. Locals were unpleasant. Wouldn't give me the time of day. There was some game, tried to kill a moose but it got away.â€

“Deer. I don't believe there are any moose in Skyrim. I should have spoken with the Nords. Perhaps there'll be another settlement on our path tomorrow.â€

Rimat rolled her eyes and exhaled loudly. “Don't you get it? This is Skyrim. You're an Altmer. Everyone here hates you. You're Thalmor, so everyone double-hates you. No-one's going to bend over backwards for you here. We're more likely to get a public stoning than a free lunch.†She swore under her breath as the fire began to die. “S'wit.â€

“I beg your pardon?â€

“Not you, the fire. Wood's too wet.â€

Maenam turned to look at her. “Well, aren't you a Synod mage?†He regarded her thoughtfully. Rimat ignored him, and kept blowing on the fire. “You didn't encounter any danger out there?â€

She shook her head, only half listening.

He seemed to make up his mind about something. “When I set out on this mission from Aldmeris, I was accompanied by three elite Thalmor soldiers. You would be hard pressed to find finer soldiers anywhere in Tamriel.â€

Rimat personally couldn't give a damn about Maenam's mission, and felt that the less she knew about it the better. But he was her boss, for now, so she kept her trap shut and kept trying to get the fire going. Hopefully she'd be dry enough soon to get some sleep.

Maenam was unconcerned by her indifference. “They were good mer. Disciplined. Not the kind prone to mistakes, and not the kind to be out-foiled by any calibre of assassin. Each of them died before I was through Cyrodiil. Each in separate accidents. Innocent tragedies, on their own. Together, certainly not a coincidence. Are you listening? Do you understand what this means?â€

“Yeah. It means that you had to come and pluck me out of my comfortable life to carry all your junk for you halfway across Tamriel.â€

Maenam's eyes narrowed. “It means your life may be in danger. Listen: my enemy has a subtle but terrible power. It seems he cannot attack me directly, but he is prepared to hinder me by murdering those around me. You must be cautious. Unless-†He abruptly stopped, looking thoughtful.

“Well?â€

“Unless he thinks keeping you alive will hinder me more.â€

Suddenly the firewood burst into flame. The fire roared and crackled merrily.

Maenam smiled thinly. “Ah, well done.â€

Rimat wasn't fooled. “How did you do that?â€

Maenam raised is eyebrows, as if to say “Do what?â€

“You cast without gesture or incantation.â€

Maenam nodded. “So you're not a complete novice then. I don't know what the Synod expected to gain by sending you with me, but I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. There are no treasures or state secrets on this mission. I'm merely eliminating a conspirator and enemy of the territories.†He stood. “However, if you've been sent to undermine me, you can expect- what?â€

Rimat was laughing silently. She wiped a tear from her eye. “You think I'm a spy? Ah dear... I don't think you quite get the Synod. They're required by law to assist you, but the don't like you. You wanted a horse to travel with, but horses are valuable. So they sent me instead. That's all.â€

Maenam seemed by surprised by this. He was about to say something when Rimat continued:

“And I'm not a Synod mage. I'm a porter. As soon as we get to Solitude, I'm gone. I don't want to be here.â€

“I see.†Maenam sat down again, and steepled his fingers. “My apologies. Perhaps I've been absorbed in politics too long. And-†He chuckled “Perhaps I give the Synod too much credit. Though I thought I gave them little enough. I suppose this explains a lot. Your attitude for example; I didn't know you were sent against your will.â€

“No, I'm just like that. You'll find it endearing eventually.â€

Maenam smiled, this time genuinely. “Is that so? Well, we can expect the journey to be more comfortable once we gain contact with imperial forces. If we run into rebels though, well, they won't be much of a problem, but I hope you'll trust me to “do the talking†then?â€

“Don't forget that killing magicians is a favourite Nord pastime. Daresay they're good at it.â€

“...I'll keep that in mind. Are you dry yet? Then you should get some sleep. I need to finish this spell if we're going to travel safely. The storm should pass before dawn. We'll get an early start.†He turned back to his parchment.

Rimat pulled her straw mattress closer to the fire. She thought to herself that Maenam's reaction to the news that she was a commoner was unusual. Most nobles (and with his annunciation, there was no way he wasn't a noble) certainly wouldn't respond with an apology. Or, as in this case, a sentence with “my apologies†in it. At least he seemed a lot friendlier now.

------------------------------------------

The road along the Karth river was better maintained than many in Skyrim, and the rickety wooden cart trundled along without much protest. There wasn't much room inside, but Manan had rearranged the junk he apparently meant to sell and somehow Raurke and Malori were able to squeeze in together comfortably, looking out the open back of the cart at the road behind them.

Manan was driving, gruffly singing what sounded like a hymn, but with dirty lyrics. Malori would snort with suppressed laughter occasionally, avoiding Raurke's gaze in embarrassment. Raurke considered idly how much blasphemy he'd put up with for a comfortable free ride.

The song ended. Manan leaned around to talk. “So, I see you reunited with your wife. Did Duncan make it okay?â€

“Aye, he's well. We met up with Jayn and Malori shortly after he left you.â€

“What, Jayn, the girl? She's alive? And free? And who's Malori?†He saw their expressions. “Right, right, sorry, terrible with names. Well, that's great news. And that reminds me. There's a tin box somewhere around your left ear, should be some bandages too.â€

Raurke noticed then that Manan's wrist was bound with bandages.

“This is for the slave-mark?â€

“S'right. There's a little spoon in the tin; don't use more than half of that unless you want a nasty rash.â€

“Can't you just change the runes like you did for yours?â€

“Could, but it's a bad idea. I'm still under a spell now; just a different one. I can't change it to just go away. I don't know how much you know about magic, but there's always a price for these things, and spells have a way of exacting the cost.â€

Raurke screwed the lid open, wrinkling his nose at the smell. “Nasty. What about you? You stayed behind for something, did you find it?â€

Manan nodded, sitting forward in the driver's seat again. “Aye, I found a little. Staying in Solitude long?â€

Raurke waved his hand. “A while, maybe a short while. We'll see.â€

Manan raised his eyebrows at the vague answer, but let it slide. “This is just me making assumptions about folks who wear black armour everywhere, but you wouldn't happen to be qualified for the kind of job that requires... infiltration?â€

Raurke chuckled. “You might say it comes naturally to me. You have a job for me?â€

“Oh yes.†Manan smiled, his eyes on the road. “Lucky thing I ran into you.â€

Raurke shifted to get more comfortable. “Anyway, Duncan made back to the Tavern fine. He's doing some legwork for the proprietor now, I think he's had enough adventures for the moment.â€

“Well, he's certainly earned some respite. I'm sure he's enjoying it.â€

[ResolveThatChord]

The morning was chilly, but the sun shone brightly and the rugged forest was almost pretty in this light. Maenam ploughed ahead despite the absence of a path, insistent that he had the right direction. Rimat as usual was carrying everything; A heavy pack was strapped to her back containing their sleeping gear and the bag of Maenam's effects, which he had made clear, without saying anything outright, was none of her business and she wasn't to look.

“Ah hah. I've found the path.†Maenam said from up ahead. Rimat thought it was about time and she was sick of sinking into the soft forest floor under all the weight she was carrying, but she didn't voice any of this.

Sure enough the path was there. It looked like a wide animal track, but it was hard and solid enough to give her some respite. A great tree had fallen over it, and Maenam stood on top of the trunk. He offered his hand to help her up. She ignored it, and got a good grip on the trunk with both hands, pulling herself up and over.

“Did I say something to offend?â€

Rimat had been thinking about something else, and took a moment to realise what he was talking about. “Don't worry about it. I'm just jealous of your hair.â€

“Your pardon? My hair?â€

“Yeah. Doesn't get in your way, long and sleek and silky... Any girl would want hair just like yours.â€

Maenam chuckled in a confused sort of way. “Are you... making fun of me?â€

“Oh, not at all! Gods' truth. I bet all the court ladies go green with envy whenever you walk by.â€

The harsh growling bark of a wolf sounded, over a rise in the land not far ahead. Rimat froze, and Maenam slowed his pace. “Stay close to me.â€

As they crested the hill they saw a pack of wolves harassing a lone man. Wolves? Rimat had seen wolves in Cyrodiil; people there didn't seem to consider them to be much of a problem, unless you were travelling alone far from town in the dead of night.

These were an entirely different breed of beast. Their coats were long, shaggy and matted. And they were huge. Rimat wondered why everything otherwise normal was somehow bigger and nastier in Skyrim . Maenam continued along the path toward the man, and Rimat stuck close to him.

The man was in poor shape; his shirt was ripped and he was bleeding. He was barely fending the wolves off. They were running about, encircling him. How many were there? She couldn't keep count. One would close in and get close to distract him while another attacked him from behind. He was wise to their game but still couldn't completely defend himself, and his wound was clearly slowing him down. As they approached he stumbled and fell on his back. Immediately the biggest of the wolves leaped onto him; he raised his arm to defend himself. The wolf bit down on his arm and shook it's head violently.

Maenam walked towards this scene, Rimat close in tow, as if he we on a hike, relaxed and making no movement to suggest that he was ready to defend himself. The circling wolves noticed him and began growling, stalking around to encircle them as well. Only now did Rimat notice that Maenam was completely unarmed.

“Uhh... Maenam?†She felt panic rising. This guy was a wizard, right? Why wasn't he doing anything? Some fireballs would definitely put her at ease right about now. “Maenam, I'm not comfortable with this at all!â€

Maenam turned to look at her. Perhaps his intention was to reassure her, but this apparent lapse in resolve invited the wolves to close in, fencing them closer to the struggling man. Rimat yelped, jumping closer to him, and he returned his attention ahead.

The big wolf was tearing at the wounded man. As Maenam came close it noticed him, and something strange happened.

It let go and backed away, not taking it's eyes off them. It's head was lowered and it's tail was between it's legs, and it looked for all the world like a bad dog that had been caught doing something it knows it shouldn't. The rest of the wolves were still growling at them, but they were certainly keeping their distance.

Maenam hunkered own before the wounded man. Rimat could see he was a Nord, bald-headed, badly shaved and dressed in the clothes of a commoner. “Here, let me help you.â€

The Nord's eyes had lit up with hope when he saw them, but his face clouded as he recognised Maenam's black coat. He spat. “Hands off, knife-eared bastard.â€

Maenam didn't move for a moment, then, “Suit yourself.†He stood.

Rimat looked about uncertainly. The wolves were slowly backing away, and that big one was nowhere to be seen. If Maenam left, would they attack this man again? Would he even survive with those wounds? His right arm was badly torn up, and he was bleeding a lot from somewhere on his upper body.

“Rimat.†Maenam was already on his way, gesturing impatiently.

The stranger looked up at her imploringly. “Please, kind elf-maid... I need helpâ€

Elf-maid? She felt a small part of her pity shrivel away. Nonetheless, she knelt by him and inspected his wound. How do you treat something like this without magic? Why had she never bothered to learn...

The man supplied a suggestion, “Here, you can use your scarf to bind the wound.â€

She nodded. Sure, right. She ripped his shirt off and tried ripping that into bandages instead. Instead of strips she ended up with some irregular torn pieces, but they would probably do.

He smiled. “Now don't you think you're being a little forward, miss?â€

“Shut up right now if you want to live.†She set about binding his wounds, and checked his temperature for fever, or something. That's what you're supposed to do, isn't it? As her hand touched his forehead, a warm light suddenly enveloped him. Golden sparks danced about his wounds, and rapidly, they began to heal.

She looked up at Maenam. He was standing, poker-faced, with his hands behind his back. The man looked down at his body in wonder.

“Are we done?†Maenam waited for a moment, then turned and continued down the path.

Rimat looked about, noticing that the wolves were gone. She scrambled to her feet to set off after Maenam. The man stood, steadying himself on her, then held her by her shoulders. “Thank you. Ye've saved my life. You're too good a sort for the likes of him.†He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder at Maenam. “Here, take my pack, it's good food. Growed it m'self. What's your name, miss?â€

Rimat accepted his pack, peeking inside. “Food? Great, I'm starving. And you can call me Knife-ears.†He looked confused. “Yeah that's what my friends call me.†She walked off after Maenam, hoisting her burden more comfortably on her back.

“Tomato?†Rimat tossed one to the Thalmor.

“He had food? Finally.â€

“Mmhmm.†Her mouth was already full of carrot. She swallowed. “So what was that act all about? Seems pretty pointless to me. If you're gonna heal him, just do it. Who cares what he thinks?â€

Maenam shrugged. “It seems that he preferred dying to getting help from me. You can hardly blame me for that. Also Nords believe they have to die in battle to go to their afterlife. But you seemed like you were going to be all day trying to patch him up. This way he got what he wanted, and we're still making good time. Call it an... honest deception.â€

“Honest deception? Ha.†Rimat rummaged around in the pack, pulling out more vegetables and potatoes to see what she could cook for dinner when they made camp. She noticed there was something else there, something solid at the bottom of the pack. What was it? She angled the pack up to get a closer look.

And suddenly Maenam pushed her violently away, knocking the pack out of her hands. She fell to the ground, her heavy backpack making her land awkwardly. The food scattered.

She struggled into a sitting position, trying to get her bearings. Maenam was standing between her and the farmer's pack. The object was on the ground not far from it, and he was glaring at it furiously. Rimat could see it better now in the sunlight. It looked like a piece of raw ivory. She got to her feet and moved closer to Maenam to get a better look.

She could see spidery writing carved into the object, which was shaped like a tusk. Most of it was too small for her to read, but a few lines stood out. It looked like a spell of some kind; it was daedric writing. Meht. Ayem. Ekem. Neht. The writing curved around the horn away from view. The line below she recognised immediately: Roht, Iya, Meht, Ayem, Tayem. RIMAT. She felt a cold weight in her stomach. There were other names than hers and Maenam's. Were these the names of the others, the soldiers who had died?

“What is it?â€

Maenam didn't answer for a moment. He seemed to be thinking hard. “Let us get away from here.†He started off down the track at a brisk pace, keeping well away from the object.

Rimat began following, looked torn for a moment, then turned back and gathered up some of the fallen food, carefully steering clear of the object. “Waste not,†she muttered to herself.

The night was quiet. As they camped she was glad of her frugality. Dinner was vegetables in broth, and although the food was about as common as you can get, Maenam accepted it without so much as wrinkling his nose. They were seated cross legged around a fire. Their camp was exposed to the sky, but it was next to a boulder outcrop which shielded them from any wind.

Maenam drank the last of the broth from his bowl, then placed it on the ground. He finally spoke, softly, “I don't understand his power. My spell was ineffective.†This was the first time he had spoken since the incident with the object. A minute of silence passed, and then he pulled the backpack over to him, pulling out the scroll he had written the other night. Breaking the seal, he read his work, frowning, then tossed it on the fire. “You very nearly died. Do you understand? If you had touched that, you surely would have died.â€

Rimat didn't respond for a while. There was something hypnotic about a good open fire. But she pondered what had happened. “The Nord, he was an agent of your enemy?â€

Maenam shook his head. “No. No, a cursed object, etched with our names, by some quirk of fate, came to us. A baffling coincidence. But I am certain, had we passed him by, that we would have encountered it some other way. And I think we will encounter it again.â€

“How? What was it?â€

“I don't know.†Did he sound... scared? “I don't know how it happens. But... Suppose, if my enemy could... Perceive, and understand the courses of fate. Perhaps with that knowledge, he could manipulate events in this way. I have been to many places and seen many things, and many have claimed the power of prophesy...â€

Rimat shuffled closer, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don't forget that you have some tricks of your own. And his power can't be all that great. You've made it this far.â€

The contact seemed to disturb him. He didn't move, but he said, “Feed the fire, it's getting cold.â€

She moved away, and grabbed a piece of wood from the firewood pile. She threw it on the flames. “Well I've read a lot, and I can say that fate business is nonsense.â€

Maenam looked at her, his eyebrows raised. “All of it? But your goddess made several prophecies which were fulfilled.â€

“Excuse me? My goddess? Daedra. I do not worship Azura. I've done the research- every single thing she predicted came true because she made it so.â€

Maenam frowned. “Is that right?â€

“There are a lot of fanciful legends. No historical basis. But something doesn't make sense to me: Why is your enemy attacking me? It was me that ended up with the curse thing, not you. You said he couldn't hurt you directly?â€

“Well, there is this.†He reached around his neck, pulling an amulet out from under his shirt. It was a beaten gold piece, like a little torc tied to a neck-string with complex knots. “This alone has proven effective. It is not the magic of Alinor, and it is strange to me.â€

They were silent for a while. He rolled the amulet around his palm. She reached over and placed another log on the fire.

Maenam stared into the fire. “You should have this.†He pushed his hood back, and pulled the string over his head.

“Wait, don't take it off-â€

“No. Put it on.†he offered it to her. Hesitantly she accepted it, and tied it around her neck. She sensed no trace of enchantment in it. “The time for caution is over. I must test his power if I wish to face him and live. To do this I need to expose myself for now. †He breathed deeply. “And you will be safer. But I will need that back when the time comes.â€

“When we get to Solitude, you mean.â€

“What?†He looked confused for a moment. “Oh yes, of course. When we get to Solitude.†An ambiguous silence followed, then, “I'll make sure you're provided with all you'll need to get out of Skyrim and back home safely. And comfortably.â€

Rimat nodded. “I should think so! Can you write an insistent letter to the Synod to take me back? And give me a pay rise?â€

He smiled. “I think I could do that.â€

[DarkRider]

Hammeth began plucking the strings of his worn lute fondly, the haunting tune filled the Frostfruit inn just as the last rays of light darkened in the frosted windows and night descended on the barren vale around their settlement. Dalai put the lid back on her cooking pot and took up a tray with pitchers of ale and mead before sashaying out into the great room where their patrons were settling in for the night and tucking into the inn’s generous bounty of succulent foods.

“Mother land has grown cold, beneath a darkened sky.

And in Skyrim’s deep holds we pray for morning’s light.

Mother weeping for her child, old ones walking in the moor,

Brother’s blood on brother’s blade…

In a wretched civil war.”

She drew the song from the empty part of her heart that still mourned her brother’s death in Windhelm where he fell fighting at Ulfric’s side. She walked through the dining room, filling tankards, and brushing a caring hand over the shoulders of her patrons with alluring tenderness as she sang to heal old wounds.

“We sing…

We pray…

Let tomorrow be the day

when Stendarr smiles upon this land

And brings the battles to an end“

Rae’Gar watched the scene unfolding from a quiet shadowed corner of the inn’s common room. His elbows at rest on the table’s edge he leaned forward over the warm tankard of mead he held clutched in both hands. The worn, dented, metal was soon warmed by the mead within, and it spread to his hands in turn. Slowly, feeling began to ebb back into his finger tips, soothing away the ache of a long ride against biting winds.

His ear twitched when the front door of the inn opened wide, allowing a crisp night wind to momentarily sweep the room before it closed again behind his traveling companions. The woman Jayna was something of an oddity. Her style of dress and company were common enough but there was something noble about her manner and speech; he suspected she had either been trained to serve a high born lady or was one herself in her past. Either way made no difference to him beyond a passing exclusion; the Imperial they called Duncan was the one who interested him. He let his interest be known, stalking his prey, inviting him to enter the game, and yet the chase eluded him. Duncan Greyhame had been branded a coward, a deserter, traitor of the Empire, and a criminal, but there was little about this man that would fit that description. His eyes locked with Duncan’s and he motioned to the table with a tilt of his hands, inviting them to join him in the overcrowded room. The Imperial nodded his acceptance of the offer and the pair headed to the bar to acquire food and lodgings before returning to join him.

Jayna set a heavy plate of shepherd’s pie on the table and served herself a bowlful into one of the wooden bowls that accompanied the tray, she pushed the tray to the center, “If you’re hungry, please take part,” she offered the Khajiit, as Duncan served himself.

Rae’Gar tipped his head in a slight bow, “I think I will…thank you,” he replied, taking the offered serving spoon from Duncan and filling his own bowl in turn.

As they began eating Jayna finally ventured the question that had been on her mind throughout their trip, “So, do you plan on just killing Duncan or taking him back alive?” she tossed out casually

“A master of subterfuge you are,” the Imperial muttered in disbelief.

Rae’Gar stared at her silently for only the briefest flicker of a moment before he shrugged, “I imagine it doesn’t matter to the Empire one way or the other, the end is the same,” he answered evenly, his gaze shifting to Duncan.

“Then what are you waiting for?” he asked quietly, “you’ve had plenty of opportunity.”

“A man’s name can end up on an Imperial order for a number of reasons, and guilt is not always one of them in my experience,” Rae’Gar explained, “perhaps I wanted to see for myself the sort of man you are.”

“And?”

“I haven’t decided,” Again the cat shrugged plainly, “you’re a skilled fighter to be certain, you kill with ease when necessity demands it, but there is compassion in you too; mercy. That was…unexpected.”

Duncan’s jaw was taut; he was unaware of the tension growing in his own muscles, poised to react. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Rae’Gar’s unreadable gaze and then his memory flickered to life. In a moment he was transported back to the haze of the gathering; the smoky night air, warm and cold at the same time, the smell of burning wood, and the taste of blood in his mouth. He raised a clenched fist and drove it down into his opponent’s face, releasing his hold on the man’s collar as he felt motionless on the snow. He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth to wipe away his blood and his eyes drifted out to the crowd. There through the smoke, he saw a dark cat, with piercing green eyes walking just in his field of vision. For a moment their eyes locked and Duncan snapped back to the Inn.

“You were there,” he said suddenly, “at the gathering. You were there watching us fight to win our freedom. I saw you in the crowds. You…you’ve been following us since? You just watched…and Raurke and I damn near froze to death out there!”

He was on his feet in anger and without hesitation Rae-Gar was ready to engage, the whole room began to fall silent and the voices of the bards drifted away as all waited to see what would happen. Jayna stood up between them placing a hand on each man’s chest.

“Boys boys easy, there’s plenty of me to go around,” she said loudly enough for the spectators to hear, then more quietly as the noise in the room resumed, “if you two want to kill each other that’s one thing but in case you haven’t noticed there’s half a dozen guards from Whiterun over at the bar and I don’t think either of you wants that kind of attention?”

Both men slowly resumed their seats; Rae’Gar stretched his neck in an impulsive act of relaxation before taking a swig from his tankard, “I never saw you leave the circle…for what it’s worth, I tracked you later,” he lowered the empty cup to the table, “which was no easy task in that snowfall as you well know.”

Duncan passed him a warm bottle of mead, continuing the polite dance of breaking bread and sharing a table, yet unable to discern if this man was friend or foe, “You watched me fight, you obviously saw something of interest since you tracked us through that snow and you must have been watching us long enough to find your way to the Tavern ahead of us, but to what end Rae’Gar?”

The cat was silent for a few moments before he finally leaned over the table, “My interest in you has little to do with your Legion warrants at all,” he said quietly, “I was at that gathering to recruit a companion, finding you there was a work of chance, and though you’re not Khajiiti, I think you are the one meant to accompany me.”

Duncan’s interest piqued, “Accompany you where?”

[DarkRider]

White sunlight spilled trough the valley from the horizon as the glowing giant made its first appearance for the day. A creeping fog moved over the ground, as if being driven away from its nightly reign by the encroaching of dawn. Duncan’s breath formed as mist as he grunted and strained against Ghost’s broad chest, trying to push the heavy gelding back into the wagon struts.

“Back up Ghost,” he barked, “come on boy,” he swatted at Ghost’s knees with the gloves in his hand, “you overgrown child, come on! Ghost, move your ruddy feet!” The gelding responded by stamping his feet in the mud, but making not even a slight budge to back up.

“You might find it easier to push the wagon forward,” Rae’Gar commented coolly as he swung his saddle onto his mount.

“Clever,” Duncan growled, “how about giving me a hand?”

Rae’Gar shrugged, came over alongside Duncan, and put his shoulder against the horse’s chest. Ghost didn’t resist their joint effort long. Uncertain of this stranger, he took a step back, and once his brain was moving the right direction, he backed up easily into the harness position.

Duncan exhaled as he clipped the harness into place then offered the Khajiit a hand, “Thanks for that.”

Though he said nothing, Rae’Gar shook his hand before returning to his own preparations. Duncan looked down at his hand, as if trying to divine some understanding from that moment of contact, but there was nothing. The Khajiit had remained tight lipped about the companionship he had alluded to the night before; whatever it was, he hadn’t decided to let them in on the details just yet. At least they knew he wasn’t out to carve a reputation from Duncan’s Legion bounties.

Before the rising sun had even touched the roof of the Frostfruit Inn, they were underway toward Half-Moon Village. The road was quiet most of the day, they only passed one other who appeared to be a highwayman waiting at the roadside to ambush passing travelers; he wisely decided to avert his eyes and leave them to pass in peace. Though their wagon was empty, the supplies on their return trip would be more tempting.

It was late afternoon when the trio finally had cause to break from their course and it wasn’t a bandit’s blade that caused the horses to hold in their tracks and huff the air nervously. As the wagon rumbled rhythmically over the cobbled road winding through the mountains, an eerie and mournful lowing echoed through the trees in the distance, sending shivers down their collective spins. It was an unearthly sound that reverberated around a primordial place in their minds; like an ancient and forgotten warning they had to obey. They strained, listening to the stillness around them; no bird sang, no insect chirped, the pass was absolutely silent in an unnatural way.

Suddenly the sound came again, it was weak, but still it gave them pause. Duncan’s jaw clenched as he jumped down from the wagon.

“Stay with the wagon...just in case we need to move,” he said in response to Jayn’s questioning expression, “I want to take a look from that rock, see what’s on the other end of this,” he said pointing to one of the residual boulders cropping out of the earth on the far side of the tree line. She nodded, taking the reins in hand and waited; her crossbow at rest against her thigh in the buckboard.

Rae’Gar joined him as he passed through the trees and the two men climbed the outcropping together, lying flat at the top. On the other side the rocks sloped down slightly before they opened into a deep valley. Surrounded by trees, the heavy Skyrim grasses covered most of the valley floor, protected from the snows that moved through the mountains. Near the center of the basin they could see a small spring, the mouth of a runoff that lead away, feeding into other distant vales. It might have been a peaceful scene if not for the hulking figure lying beside the spring. They could barely believe their eyes, until another low crying from the beast snapped them to their senses. It was a dragon. The creature’s skin was an iridescent blue, with hues shading to green along its belly. It was hard to see from the distance, but one wing was clearly tattered, its ribs jutted out under the skin, the dragon was wounded, and dying. It would be a long slow death, its mournful howls begging for another of its kind to come and finish it off.

Rae’Gar watched as Duncan’s expressions cycled through his thoughts, “A wounded beast can be more dangerous than a healthy one,” he offered.

Duncan drew his blade and started to shimmy over the out cropping and down into the pass to the vale, “Its suffering.”

“Perhaps better that it suffers than us,” the Khajiit replied warily, though drawing his own blade, he followed Duncan’s lead.

[DarkRider]

The two men made their way down toward the valley basin, moving cautiously through a labyrinth of rocky outcroppings. It was more closed in from this angle than it had appeared from their overlook point and neither could see their mark. Despite the blind approach, they could hear the dragon’s labored breaths growing louder and more foreboding ahead with each step and knew their moment would come soon.

Too soon, the outcropping opened wide in front of them as the beast’s heavy tail swung just over their heads and crashed to the frozen earth, crunching like a tree falling to its doom. They exchanged a look that mutually questioned their sanity as they moved around behind the dragon’s massive form. There were arrows protruding from its thick hide, blood staining many of its iridescent scales, its flesh appeared pulled taut over its bones, drawn thin from hunger and thirst. The dragon’s right wing hung in bloodied tatters between the thin framing bones; it appeared to have been ravaged by an animal, but it was a crippling wound.

Duncan drew one of his blades silently, “I need to get behind the skull, see if you can draw its attention.”

The Khajiit nodded and moved around the edge of the basin away from the dragon, trying to get around to its field of view. Duncan waited, crouched behind the shrubbery at the base of a nearby tree to wait for his opening. It was an unfortunate business. Killing a dragon bent on attack was one thing, but finding one in this manner, and putting it out of its misery left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Once around the dragon’s hind end and closer to the start Rae’Gar crouched and crept into the thick grasses to conceal his form. Palming a handful of small stones, he began tossing them into the water near the dragon’s head. At the sudden movement and sound, the beast raised a weary, but curious head to investigate the ripples and splashing that had spontaneously begun to disrupt the spring pool; scanning for fish perhaps. Duncan crept forward from his hiding place, but the timing was off, the dragon was quickly losing interest in the stones; turning to rest its head back down with a groan. Rae’Gar tossed one of the stones toward the Imperial to warn him back; arcing too wide, the stone rustled when it scattered the brush. The dragon’s head raised and swung to look toward the rustling, Duncan disappeared back behind a tree and Rae’Gar leapt out of hiding, his boots making a significantly louder splash at the spring’s edge. He found himself in a blink staring down the beast’s long, toothy, snout.

Duncan moved back out of hiding and motioned for Rae’Gar to hold on, taking steps toward a quick kill. The dragon rumbled as if to growl, but the sound that came forth was more akin to a groan. Its blue-green eyes were fixed on him and Rae’Gar held his arms wide to appear as menacing, or at least as interesting as he could without looking too much like a sweet cake. The dragon’s eyes stayed locked on his, piercing him with an endless depth. It didn’t even move as Duncan dashed up the dragon’s elbow to its neck.

“I knew you would come,” an ethereal voice echoed through Rae’Gar’s mind, a silent thunder that caused him to grasp his skull reflexively. His thoughts were scattered as the dragon spoke to him in a chorus of familiar voices traveling through his mind in waves of memory and dreamlike sleeps.

He was almost entranced, but shook his head as he watched Duncan, now behind the dragon’s head, raising his blade to strike, “Don’t kill her!” the scream was ripped from him.

Duncan paused, startled, to look at him curiously and in that window the dragon raised her head and shook it like a dog shaking water from its ears, forcing Duncan to drop his blade just to grab onto her head frills to catch himself. Despite his valiant efforts to hold on, her persistent shake soon dropped him to the ground with a thud. Duncan scrambled away from her, grabbing his sword, and turned to face Rae’Gar once he’d cleared her strike zone.

“What is wrong with you?!” the Imperial asked, shrugging his arms in exasperation.

“Remember that quest I said we were called to?” Rae’Gar replied as he slowly lowered himself to one knee, “this is it.”

Duncan was still confused, “What? To kill a half dead dragon?”

Rae’Gar shook his head firmly, “No, to save her. This is no ordinary dragon…she is an avatar.”

[charlescrowe]

The sun felt unusually warm (for Skyrim.) on Raurke's skin as he dozed. Manan's dry lagh and the subdued giggle of Malori brought him back to wakefullness as they pulled into Dragonbridge. "What say we stop for a bite?" Raurke chimed, hopping off the wagon to walk briskly beside it. Manan smirked, then rubbed his stomach in agreement. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt. Might give you a good chance to disguise yourselves as normal folk."

The trio pulled off the road onto a small lot to unhitch the horses, leading them to the stable, then Malori and Raurke changed into more casual clothes behind the wagon. Before Raurke came back around, he willed a light illusion around himself to make him less memorable; he didn't want to leave his targets recognizing him to chance. Leaving all but thier coin purses and a dagger or two with the wagon, they headed up to the tavern.

______________________________________

The Four Shields Inn was a cozy place, inviting for the most part, save for a surly female Altmer dressed in Thalmor garb with her hood down. Were she not a psychotic zealot, Raurke might have found himself attracted, if only fleetingly. The other patrons; a smattering of nords punctuated by the odd Imperial or Redgaurd, were cahtting amicably in pairs

and threesomes. Raurke and his group quietly took a free table near a corner and were promptly approached by a serving maid.

Having placed their orders, Manan, Malori, and Raurke waited, conversing lightly. "You ok, lad?" Manan whispered. "You've been staring at that woman pretty intently." Raurke blinked and turned his attention to Manan. "I don't know if you've noticed, but that's one of the folks who sold us." "Aye, so she is." Manan quickly took a second look. "We'd better eat and get out sharpish." "You, maybe. I've got business with her." Raurke whispered, palming a steel dagger quietly. "Finish eating, and we'll meet you just outside Solitude."

________________________

Fed, Raurke and Malori made their goodbyes with Manan, grabbing their swords and leaving the rest of their gear with the old man. They'd decided to rent a room and watch Aramel to see if her partner was around, but by the first watch of the evening it was apparent that Gilgamesh had likely gone to the Thalmor headquarters in Solitude.

There was something strange about the couple in the corner, Aramel thought, though she pushed the notion away after the Bosmer woman giggled lustily. She'd pay her bill, then head on to Solitude after Gilgamesh. Casually, Aramel got up, palmed a few coins into the hand of the lowly Nord barkeep's hand and walked out. Half an hour outside of Dragonbridge, Aramel's senses heightened as she heard a twig snap, then she was tackled and dragged into the woods by some beastly thing.

As she came to, Aramel struggled for breath; someone was sitting on her chest. "Where's the other one?" a gravelly, distorted voice echoed through the night. "The other what?" Aramel groaned, her vision clearing to reveal the Bosmer from the inn sitting on her chest and the Breton standing behind her. "Your partner. The wizard." the Breton barked. "He's in Solitude, filthy human." Aramel spat, wrenching an arm free from between her side and the Bosmer's thigh to send a lightning bolt at the Breton's face.

Raurke fell backward, howling in pain and clutching his right eye; black blood seeping between his fingers. Malori brought her fist down on the Altmer's face, stunning her, then got up to help Raurke to his feet. Senses dulled by pain, Raurke drew his saber and parried Aramel's mace clumsily; she'd recovered faster than he'd thought. Raurke bit back his pain and took a slice at his prey, the thin blade of his saber batted away easily by the heavy elven mace.

Aramel smiled in the darkness and swung her mace again, breaking the Breton's saber as he tried to parry again. As she pulled back for a third swing, her vision faded and a searing pain entered her back. The gleaming silver blade of a scimitar jutted through her chest, then retreated as she slumped to the ground, a bloody lifeless shell.

__________________________________

Daylight found Raurke and Malori in the stable of a farm just south of Solitude. Raurke, having discarded his ruined saber, held the blade of one of Malori's scimitars to his face. He grimaced, finding himself short one eye; though it had already regenerated and scarred over, he knew he'd never be able to see out of it again. Malori giggled darkly. "You've been saying a change of appearance was needed anyway, my Raven."

[the-manta]

Felix cleared his throat painfully as he and Nina entered the waterside cave

"Lecelle was a brilliant mage. Is a brilliant mage," he added to Nina's distaste. "But more than that, he was a brilliant... He was brilliant. The, uhh, 'cult type' you might say. His words were honey potion to all of us, his mind could shape and control ideas that were hazy impossibilities to ordinary men. He was a born leader, that much is certain."

Nina's face was flat with irritation.

"I hate mages," she muttered."No offence". She brightened as she went on: "but, none of that makes him any harder to kill. That... is what we're doing, isn't it?"

"Oh I have little doubt that's where this leads," the mage replied grimly, "but I doubt even less that it will be more complicated than that."

"Tsk. When is it?"

Neither spoke for some time, walking instead in a pregnant silence as the rough stone tunnel gradually adopted the unmistakeable traits of intelligent artifice.

"Stinks of elf," Nina finally commented as they passed under a soaring arch of the otherworldly white stone. "And rotting meat," she added, wrinkling her delicate nose.

Felix nodded, gazing up at the elven architecture that seemed to grow out of the natural stone around them.

"Falmer maybe? It doesn't match any drawings, looks more Ayleid..." Felix surprised himself with brighter, 'Felix' thoughts. He shrugged, and the motion turned into a metallic-tasting cough that shook his shoulders and made his stomach ache. Nina made to grab him but he waved a hand as the coughing subsided.

"I'm fine, let's keep going" he assured his friend, dragging the back of his hand slowly across his mouth.

She held her look of concern a moment longer before turning her head. "Well I'm not so worried about the elf..." she glanced around nervously, "as much as the rotting meat. I've yet to meet a trogolodyte wizard with no zombies handy..."

***

[Xinimator]

“Helloooooo! Walking dead! We're here! Fresh brains ripe for picking. Well, maybe not mine....mine might be little rotten....his is fresh!â€

Nina's voice echoed through the hallways, the darkness giving no hint of life in these chambers. The only objects that projected what little light it offered were these mysterious blue stones protruding out of the white walls. Otherwise, it was eerily quiet.

Nina shook her head, “Oh, I hate it when they hesitate. Nothing good ever comes out of that.â€

“I don't think you help when you announce our presence though,†Felix mumbled, painfully holding his chest with his arms.

“I'd just rather kill the zombies as quickly as I can and get back to helping you deal with your pal,†Nina said with a shrug and turned to him, “Is that too much to ask?â€

“If I didn't know any better, I would've thought you love to be around dead people,†Felix teased.

“Ha ha.....no,†Nina growled, and turned her attention back to the hallway, “You know, if you want a ride back home while you're asleep, I'd be nice. I could just leave you in Windhelm with a bunch of hobos. They would love the company. And the clothes,†she said and smirked.

“If you don't want to be here Nina, then why stay?†Felix looked at her with a small smile of his own, “To me, you sound like you'd rather be as far away from me.â€

“Maybe I'm hoping I'd get myself killed here,†Nina shrugged, her face turned away from Felix as she muttered, “Gods know I can't kill myself any faster.â€

Felix gave her a strange look, but she didn't see it. And he didn't say anything beyond that point, which was a relief to her. A part of her was actually hoping she'd die here. She had no desire to go to Windhelm at all. She'd rather keep the past in the past, but.....the prospect of turning into a zombie like the other poor souls....

She kicked a rock out of the way in frustration. Why must the gods torment her so? Couldn't they just leave her in peace?

“Interesting....â€

“What's interesting?â€

“These stones.....almost straight out of the drawings....†Felix muttered, staring at the blue stones in fascination.

“Glad to see you happy, I guess....†Nina mumbled. There was a soft cracking below her feet and Nina frowned, her ears strained trying to determine the source of the noise, “What was---?â€

Before she could say anything more, the floor suddenly gave out under her and she was left sliding and tumbling into a newly formed darkness. Felix was yelling something at her, but the Nord's mind didn't pay much attention to it. She was too concerned of what would meet her at the eventual end of this pit. She winced and braced herself for impact.

Where she expected dirt or rock, however, she instead was enveloped in a thick, viscous fluid, the sudden cold, slimy feeling almost causing her to inhale the muck. She struggled for a few moments before her feet and hands finally met the rocky floor. She pushed herself up, surprised by how thick the liquid actually was, before surfacing and finally able to take a needed breath.

“Gods' blood!†she gasped and coughed. The liquid left a foul taste in her mouth and she tried to spit it back out with no avail.

“Nina!†a voice finally registered with her and Nina tried to look up....only to find she had closed her eyes to keep the muck out. She tried to wipe it away with her hands to no avail, “Felix! You alright?â€

“Yeah, I'm fine,†Felix said, “I didn't get caught in the collapse.â€

“Well, ain't you just the luckiest little....,†Nina groaned, finally able to open her eyes into the penetrating darkness, “Damn elves. Oh, they can build the Imperial City just fine, but they can't build a frickin' hall worth a swine's back.â€

This made Felix chuckle a little, “Hold on, I'll try to get you out,†he said before he started coughing violently.

“Forget it!†Nina yelled back, “Just.....do you have any rope?â€

Felix finished coughing and tried to hold in the last bit before shaking his head, “You had the rope.â€

“....Damn,†the Nord muttered; she wasn't going to even try to look for it, not in this stuff, “How about some torches?â€

“I can shine some light down there,†the Breton said and he got up quickly, which only brought another violent fit of coughing.

“Woah woah woah, we are not playing that game!†she yelled and growled, “Just.....keep an eye out while I try to....get out of this....†she grumbled and started wading her way to a wall.

“It's just light, Nina; it's not like a giant fireball,†Felix said and shook his head painfully, though giving a hint of a smile.

“Look, I can get out of here, alright? Just lemme...†she said and started gripping at jagged rocks. She felt she had a good grip at first, but when she tried to hoist herself up, the oily substance on her hands caused her to slip and fall right back into the goop.

“....Felix.....make yourself useful and keep an eye out for dead guys, would ya?†Nina finally groaned, “This may take a while.â€

“I can put some light down there.â€

“I'd rather you didn't.â€

“Well I think--â€

“Felix, I don't want to be down here when the corpses start falling.†Nina yelled at him and shook her head in frustration, “Just....gimme a couple of minutes, alright? Please?â€

[DarkRider]

Duncan couldn't help but stare at him for a moment, completely dumbfounded, "An avatar? You don't mean as in an 'Avatar of Akatosh' do you?" he couldn’t keep the disbelief from his voice, "rubbish," he muttered, "Rae'Gar, it's not a real thing, it's just a story."

The Khajiit looked at him grimly, his maw flexing over his teeth in a sort of feline expression that was unclear in its meaning, "You don't believe that Martin destroyed the Temple of One when he took the god's form."

Duncan clicked his tongue, "Dagon destroyed the Temple, that bit about the dragon is just a tale people tell, you know, a myth? Like the one my nan always told about the great golden beast who used to flap about Kvatch county saving the poor and helpless; just makes children and peasants feel good to believe such things."

Before Rae'Gar could loose the argument building on his tongue the dragon form lying between them became engulfed in a shimmering mist that snaked around its mass until every single scale was concealed. Then the mist grew smaller and, as if drawn into a vortex, collapsed in on itself. The dragon was no more; in the wake of the ethereal cloud, a woman with the palest skin and almost ebony dark auburn hair, lay on the ground in its place. Completely nude, her back and sides bore the same vicious wounds she had acquired in dragon form, though lessened through her transformation.

The Khajiit unclipped the crimson cloak from his cuirass and hastily covered her to protect her modesty. She sat up and drew the cloak around herself as she offered him a small, pained, but grateful smile, "I was beginning to fear you would not find me in time, dark one," she said in a soft voice, accented from a distant land neither could place.

Duncan, suddenly aware his mouth was held agape in wonder, shook his head back to its senses as he sheathed his blade, "I'm not sure I believe what I just saw," he said slowly as he approached the woman, "my apologies if I offended you, my lady."

"I have taken no offense, Duncan of the Greyhame," she said gently, turning her sea green eyes toward him, "do not trouble your heart, I am delivered to your care," then the light left her eyes as she collapsed back onto the mossy ground in a heap.

Both men knelt over her, but it was Rae'Gar who lifted her into his arms as they stood, "The village we travel to, is there a healer?"

Duncan nodded, “There is,” as he began to lead the way out of the valley and back to the wagon, "and we've not much further to go, come on."

They found the wagon waiting on the road where they'd left it, Jayn offering a quizzical look as they settled the strange woman in the back atop a pile of empty flour sacks. Rae'Gar climbed in beside her and Duncan tied the Khajiit's horse to the wagon before hastily climbing up beside Jayn in the driver’s seat. Baffled by their urgency, the young woman craned her neck and scanned the rocky crags they had appeared from.

Duncan took the reins in hand, "What are you looking for?"

"The angry troll you two must have just robbed of his maiden."

"She's dying, Jayn," he said grimly, the smirk fading from her face as Duncan snapped the reins and the horses lurched the wagon forward into motion, "we have to reach the healer at Half-Moon village."

Jayn nodded with understanding, slipping her crossbow onto her back she climbed over the seat and into the back of the wagon, "I need your horse," she said as she passed Rae'Gar and leapt from the wagon onto Arcanum's broad back. She was almost thrown to the ground by his momentum, but managed to dig her fingers into the leather and pull herself into the saddle. She pulled the reins loose and kicked him forward around the wagon, "I'll tell them you're coming!" she called as they easily outpaced the bulky wagon and disappeared down the cobbled roadway.

==============

When the wagon finally rolled to a stop in Half-Moon, Jayna was waiting at the stables, and from there led them on foot to a rambled shack on the edge of town, half buried in the hillside and overgrown with plant life. The inside bore the same overgrown motif, wild plants growing unfettered from many aged and cracking vases, urns, and odd makeshift pots.

“Bring her in here,” a stern old woman commanded them, opening a wall of hanging beads to reveal a small room adjacent to the first. Inside the men had to stoop their heads to clear the ceiling. Rae’Gar laid the avatar on the small hay lined mattress as directed and stood back to let the healer ply her trade. The old woman’s lined and knotted hands passed over the avatar’s body as she murmured to herself a sort of inventory of the injuries and the actions needed, then quickly began to produce poultices and potions, applying them to the young woman’s wounds at a dizzying pace. When she finished, she laid a cloth bathed in cool water and lavender across the avatar’s forehead, then covered her with the furs gathered at the bottom of the bed.

“Will she live?” Duncan asked.

The healer shook her head uncertainly, “She is not long for this world by design, and one foot is in the spirit always. But she may yet recover. I have saved the flesh; the rest is up to her. Go now, I will send word when she has decided.”

[the-manta]

Felix turned from the ragged chasm with a huffing sigh of exasperation.

“So stubborn…†he muttered under his breath.

She had a point though; he had never made this much noise in a ruin and not been beset by anything. Stifling a cough, he cast a sickly candlelight with one hand, and a shielding spell with the other, sending a metallic ring echoing down the passageway.

“What are you doing up there?†came Nina’s suspicious whisper.

“Looking after us!†The mage hissed back.

As his attention flicked back to the gaping corridor, he caught the distinct sense of something wrong, a faint vibration in the air perhaps.

“Lady of Infinite Energies, Prince of…†the prayer cut short in his throat and for a moment it bounced around in his head. How foolish the words sounded.

Felix had little time to think on the matter. With a faint scratch of stone on stone, a smooth block of wall slid away, and the long-awaited dead arrived. One by one, they shuffled out of the hidden passage, dragging their feet so their tarnished boots scraped against the floor. Felix shuddered at the sight of their drawn, decaying faces, all fixed into grimaces of horror, and flame sprang to life in his hands.

“Nina… How’s the climbing coming?â€

“Not… Bah, dammit… too well. Are the dinner guests arriving?†The faintest trace of fear shone through her humour.

The zombies were drawing closer, and Felix spared only a “Yep†before he released a fireball. The remains of a stocky warrior lit up like tinder and dropped a battle axe with a resounding clang. Felix sprung forwards as the dead staggered back, trying to give himself as much retreating space as possible. The action was poorly calculated, and he found himself beneath the blades of half a dozen zombies. With a cough, he staggered and fell, knocking the wind out of his lungs, and his executioners raised their weapons. He remembered the night beneath Mount Kilkreath, the sight of a blinding light, its warmth on his skin…

As the rusted blades fell towards him he roared an incantation. A burst of fire and light sprang from his hands and the beasts fell back, their papery skin burned away and their weapons forgotten. One rusty sword clattered to the ground beside his face, and for what felt like hours Felix watched it blur as it bounced off the stone.

Before the blade had settled he was on his feet, and the dead had closed ranks. He ducked an axe, punched its owner in the bare midriff and set two of its companions alight.

“Sorry!†He called out as a flaming zombie tumbled down the chasm.

His spellfire tossed the zombies back one by one or two by two, and the passageway rang with clattering iron, but there were too many, and the hall was too narrow. The Breton took a step back and gasped as his foot found nothing. He swung his robed arms like some ridiculous bird as he struggled to catch his balance, finally grabbing hold of a convenient axe-haft. The zombie sounded almost surprised as Felix pulled himself towards it and yanked on its weapon.

“Sorry!†He yelled again as the creature overcompensated and stumbled past him, into Nina’s abyss.

He thrust the battle axe clumsily forwards, pushing the beasts out of his breathing room with many a grunt and wheeze. As he tried to pull back the ancient weapon for a swing, he remembered he was a mage, almost falling again with the weight of it. Indiscriminate flames were all the Breton could think of as the zombies bore down once again, and the smell of their sinewy flesh crackling away made him wretch. Out of the fire loomed the screaming face of what had once been a man, blade raised high, and Felix had no time react before it came crashing down into his shoulder.

His howl of pain mixed with an echoing ring as his shield absorbed most of the impact, and he thrust forward bodily, bruising his chest in the pattern of a breastplate. The shove was just about sufficient, and the zombie stumbled drunkenly into its companions as Felix tried to recover. It was no good. He couldn’t even tell how many there were – they filled his vision and most of his attention. A flick of the head showed him that the other direction was scarcely more appealing. The gaping hole in the floor stretched for some distance, and only beyond that could he see a clear path. Nothing for it then.

Two last fireballs erupted among the dead and Felix spun around. His soft boots pounded the stone for only seconds before he jumped, his bruises screaming protest and his robes trailing like moth wings.

“Sorryyyy!†He cried as he began to fall, the edge of the chasm still a foot away from his fingertips.