Skyrim Day 035 - Ghost Women and Metal Men

20 Heartfire, 4E201

Morthal

~~~

Retrieve some books or get distracted twice, dive into two ruins each occupied by a different group of hostile people, and be rewarded by some coin, more fatigue, and a mounting list of things to do the next day? I wound up choosing the latter, of course, but I complain when I am stuck at the College only to complain once I am free to roam. Nevertheless, this day offered some hints towards adjustments I could be making for myself, advice I am always glad to receive.

I thought I would visit Morthal first to get the first of Urag's books, then walk through Dragon Bridge to retrieve the second. The Nightgate inn's lack of comfort, heating, or quiet ensured I was up at two in the morning, not quite ready for the day's journey but unable to fall back asleep anyway. After a quick breakfast and a glare at the bard practicing in the common room at such an early hour I left the village and proceeded down another snowy road.

Under the bright moon I met with the Khajiit caravan, run by Ahkari, which Kharjo is tasked with guarding. Trading had been profitable for them so Ahkari was happy to pay for the assortment of jewelry taken from the assassins and ruins I seem unable to avoid. Kharjo wished me well and we parted ways, again.

The moon settled down for another day's rest and the sun had risen several hours ago when I turned the corner of the cobblestone road just in time to watch a mammoth catch a hunter with its tusks, flinging the woman thirty feet through the air. She hid the ground head-first with a too-familiar crack, her head broken from the impact against the frozen earth.

The mammoth stomped away and stopped next to a dead Giant, its sinewy body stuck full of cheap-looking arrows. The unfortunate huntress evidently killed the master only to fall against the pet...I think. My understanding of Skyrim's unique semi-intelligent herders is not very clear and I do not know what the relationship is between the Giants and their mammoths. All I know is that tangling with either is asking for trouble no one needs.

On the subject of trouble no one needs, I briefly ventured off the road near Dawnstar and came upon a magnificent Dwemer fortress in seemingly excellent condition.

My pride as an adventurer, if such a thing exists, would not let me pass the fortress without stopping for a cursory look around. I hoped to also find the remaining Dwemer cogs for Arniel. This, of course, meant that several bandits met their end, but that is now nearly a daily occurrence. Once I finished stalking the courtyard I proceeded inside and was almost immediately rewarded by battle debris left from a fight between the bandits and the Dwemer constructs. I found the required cogwheels without much trouble and could have left then, but curiosity insisted that I proceed.

Inevitably the bandits were replaced by Falmer as I crept deeper into the fortress, with the Dwemer constructs a constant, noisy companion. Why bandits see Dwemer ruins as great places to camp in I shall never know, for the Falmer are always there first and will likely always kill whomever stays there for longer than a day. One of the Falmer I shot down had a desiccated human heart in his pouch, a grisly trophy from a battle some time ago.

I made it through bandits and Falmer only to find myself facing one of the massive Dwemer battle-men similar to the one I had ran away from in Alftand.

There was no running away from this thing, yet all I had on me was my dagger, a bow, and an Ebony war axe I had won from a Draugr in the ruin where I found my first Nordic 'word'. Now I have never before wielded an axe in battle, but I felt nonetheless that my chances against the giant machine would go up if I wielded something with a reach longer than eight inches.

Unaccustomed to the lack of balance on the axe, my first few swings were probably more dangerous to myself than my opponent. But my next swings were directed into the thing's legs, satisfyingly crushing in the Dwemer plate protecting its joints. It attempted to defend itself, but even with the axe I was far too quick. We danced around for what felt like a long time before I managed to work a plate free of the machine, exposing the levers and gears beneath. Once these were destroyed the thing collapsed and I drove the butt-spike of the axe into its chest, silencing it forever.

The axe dislodged something in its chest and a bit of digging around revealed a a spherical shell with a red gemstone set inside of it. There were knobs on the outside of the shell that allowed for some sort of adjustment, but I could not figure out what to do with it. Whatever it was it appeared to be the power source for the machine and I guessed it to be valuable to someone, somewhere, so into my pack it went.

A door on the far side of our arena led to an elevator platform which deposited me back on to the surface of Skyrim. It was still day, the weather was clear, and there did not seem to be anything that could prevent me from recovering at least one of the books today. Save, of course, for my curiosity again.

I had only taken a dozen steps along the road when I heard the sound of fighting in the direction of a packed snow path off of the road. Thinking someone might be fighting for their lives against bandits, I drew my bow and tried to be as fast and sneaky as I could at the same time. I need not have worried. By the time I reached the fighting it was already over: a woman was walking away from the bodies of two bandits sprawled on stairs leading into a Nordic burial crypt and while she was surprised to see me, she was not hostile.

She introduced herself as Eisa Blackthorn, former bandit of the White River Gang, a group I had no knowledge of, and a more-recently former member of treasure hunters camping inside of the crypt. Eisa stated that she and another hunter had been marked for death after the disappearance of the boss's sword. She fought her way outside the crypt, but the other hunter had gone further inside, ranting about a lady he had to see there. She invited me to explore the mystery myself, but stated she would have nothing more to do with the entire business. What that she walked down the path to the road and I, having been provided another mystery to solve, stepped over the bodies and entered the crypt.

There was nothing interesting about it, other than that the treasure hunters (bandits) had discovered a forest somehow growing underground. One of them, the other hunter Eisa spoke about, went mad after exploring the area and stole a sword from the group's leader. That was all I found out from listening to the bandits talk among themselves before they died.

I arrived at the forested area just in time to witness the mad hunter attack a ghostly woman who killed him almost instantly.

This forest was dim, cold, and misty, as unpleasant as it was unusual. The ghost resembled a creature I have fought before: a bluish-green semi-transparent woman wearing wraps about her who was able to command wisps to fight alongside her. Whatever these things are, this one also had the ability to create copies of herself as well as wisps. She lacked endurance however and dissipated into nothing after only a few blows from my axe.

The dead hunter was a sparsely clothed Khajiit and he managed to retain his grip on the stolen sword even in death. It was a short blade, no more than a foot and a half and oddly shaped from a dark steel. The weapon fit perfectly on a pedestal just in front of the mad Khajiit, making me wonder if the ghost had not called the Khajiit to steal the blade back to her for some purpose. I had no need of it so I placed it on the pedestal and started towards a staircase carved into the rear of  the cavern.

As I approached I noticed that the stone alongside it was worked and through the mist I realized it was almost exactly as the other stone monuments which taught me the Nordic words. As before certain runes in the stonework began to glow as I drew closer.

A blinding light, a crippling pain in my head, and suddenly I knew the runes for 'flesh of ice', a phrase utterly mystifying without context. Now nursing a terrific headache I stumbled up the stairs and into a clear Skyrim night.

There was no place to stay between the crypt and Morthal, so it was early in the morning when I finally arrived at the dismal place, my head pounding and my feet slightly less so.

The room was the standard ten Septims per night and I settled in to write this just after midnight. One of the volumes Urag wanted is just north of Morthal, so I am confident I will be recovering at least one of them, if not both, tomorrow. Then it is back to the College again. 

Oblivion Day 35 - A Fool's Last Stand

2 Frost Fall, 3E433

Cheydinhal

~~~

With four Gates to close today, I skipped on a lot of sleep and left the Imperial Bridge Inn at one in the morning. My record until today was two Gates in one day, but I felt confident that four was possible if my equipment lasted.

It has been long since a single Gate is worth much of a mention and like the House Dagoth strongholds of years ago, familiarity bred contempt and I can only see the Oblivion Gates as one might see a particularly loathsome, but not difficult, chore. My early start meant that I was able to clear all four Gates along the road to Cheydinhal by nightfall and reached the city by moonlight anticipating a pleasant rest. But a fifth Gate awaited me there, this one with a story.

The Gate was Cheydinhal's own and Cheydinhal's own had gone into the Gate in an attempt to close it. The son of Count Andel Indarys ventured into the Gate alongside his personal warriors known as the 'Knights of the Thorn'. The city guard had set up a barricade around the Gate while they waited for the Count's son, Farwil, and his Knights to return. But they had entered the Gate days ago and nothing, neither man nor Daedra, had come back out. The guardsmen were content to stay outside and ensure no Daedra attacked the city, but it was up to someone else to close the Gate and find the Count's son. 

Naturally this task fell upon me.

I spoke with one of the guards before entering the Gate. His opinion of the so-called Knights was not high, for they spent most of their time at the Inn drinking and telling each other increasingly outlandish stories of their exploits as the drink took hold. Actual work such as patrolling the city or the surrounding wilderness fell to the city guard alone. The guard suspected that Farwil and his men died days ago in Oblivion, but I promised to do my best to get them out should I find anyone alive.

My first steps into Oblivion did not lend any encouragement.

The Knight had fallen just inside the Gate, his woefully inadequate steel armor rent by claw marks, probably Clannfear. Further ahead I came upon two more bodies, both freshly killed, more of Farwil's Knights of the Thorn. The complete lack of Daedra corpses did not bode well for the Knights I had yet to find.

Interestingly, the Gate had led me to an area of Oblivion that I have never been in before. This area was dominated by a massive keep built atop a lake of lava. It was an impressive sight.

Farwil was considerably less impressive. Upon seeing me he immediately demanded to know what took me so long and bragged that he and his knights struck against the forces of Oblivion like lightning. He failed to mention the dead he had left behind him on his noble quest and insisted that I follow him onward into the Oblivion keep. He claimed to have personally killed over twenty Daedra, but the lack of even a single Daedra corpse on my way to him made that claim more than a little suspect.

With him was a slightly more level-headed Knight who introduced himself as Bremman Senyan. He was not too proud to admit that he was afraid, but he gamely had stuck with Farwil up until my meeting with them and continued to follow the headstrong youth until the end of this tragic tale. He deserved a better end than what he got.

The only way into the keep was via a stone bridge spanning lava field between the hillside we were on and the keep's entrance. Three Dremora were milling about, guarding the keep and the body of a dead Knight of the Thorn held testament to the battle I was about to face.

I tried to get Farwil and Bremman to wait while I cleared the bridge, but Farwil would have none of that. Wounded though he and his friend was, with a shout of "Huzzah!" he charged down the bridge with his last living Knight following in his wake. I myself was barely able to engage the Dremora before him, but I managed to draw their attention before they noticed Farwil, allowing him and Bremman to strike from behind. The bridge guards were vanquished in short order, which only served to further fuel Farwil's lust for battle.

We fought through our way up the keep, Farwil constantly getting in my way and Bremman always trying to reign his young lord in. Still, the two of them managed to hold their own right up until we reached the Sigil Stone's chamber. Sighting three Flame Atronachs, Farwil, wounded as he was already, charged...and fell to three fireballs he never attempted to dodge.

Bremman wisely stayed behind me as I dispatched the Atronachs and he handed me Farwil's signet ring to bring back to the Count after the battle was over.

After closing the Gate I spoke with the guardsmen again who told me that the Count was requesting my audience personally, no doubt to hear news of his son. Bremman and I parted ways and I headed towards the castle, he alone to the Knights' lodge.

The Count was oddly cheerful for a man who had just lost his son to the forces of Oblivion. He commented that he was sure I tried my best to save him and that he was sure that I had fought at his side before his end. He awarded me a sack of coins for closing the Gate and asked that I keep Farwil's ring as a memoir of his son's fateful battle against the forces of Oblivion. What else could I do but agree?

It is now early in the morning of 3 Frost Fall and I am turning in to bed for a short nap. I wish to be on the road this afternoon towards Bruma to deliver my Daedric artifact to Martin and be one step closer to ending this business with Oblivion.

Morrowind Day 35 - Training Day, Part Two

19 Hearthfire
~~~

Today was much like the last: no fighting, no stress, just training and relaxation. I had worked on my physical combat abilities with Rithleen yesterday, but I consider myself far more skilled in meele than in magic, so I dedicated today to the Mages Guild, trying to work my meager skill into something with more utility for my life in Morrowind.

Ajira was more than happy to take my money in exchange for an lesson in alchemy; she was kind enough to charge me less than the standard rate, though she did not mention it. Her nose seems to be constantly searching for monetary opportunities, a task which takes her business far outside the Mages Guild at times. Despite this, she is a very effective Alchemist and the expensive alchemy equipment on her desk is well-used and cared for. She admitted that my arrival, an "active adventurer" as she put it, has done a lot her projects both inside and outside the Guild.

She did not volunteer details of what these projects were, but from what she did say I gather that a lot of the alchemy ingredients she purchases from me gets shipped out of Morrowind to parts unknown by parties also unknown, a business which she greatly profits from. It does make me wonder why she remains in the Mages Guild and the Balmora branch in particular, though it is likely Ranis and Ajira share an arrangement, one that sees a little profit in Ranis's pockets as well.

Such is the way of life in Morrrowind. Coming from the heart of the Empire tends to instill a certain rigidity of morals, even when you exist at the edge of discipline, as the Auxiliaries probably still do and I know my own set of morals have become more malleable lately. After all, I did agree to Ranis's request last night, but I plan on doing whatever I can in an effort to not have to kill the persons of interest.

Pleasant though it was, I did not spend much time on my Alchemy training. It is a useful skill, but not one I have had to rely on. Due to the wide differences in geography and fauna, it has been of more use putting a few extra Septims in my pocket than brewing useful potions. One ingredient for a potion may only be found in the northern parts of Morrowind, while the second may be on the other side of the island in the south. The alchemist shopkeepers alleviate the search for common ingredients, but it almost seems a waste of effort when they are also selling the potion you were trying to make in the first place. A true student of the art would never pass on the opportunity to practice her craft, but for me survival takes priority over pride.

After Ajira's chattiness, Marayn's no-nonsense instruction proved a relief. He admitted himself to being more skilled in Destruction and Mysticism schools, but still knew far more than I in the use of Alteration spells. I spent more time than I expected I would with him and when we had finished I was far more confident that my Alteration spells would succeed when I needed them.

Estirdalin was my final teacher, the two of us practicing Illusionary magic together. In contrast with Ajira and Marayn, I was nearly Estirdalin's equal with Illusion magics and the opportunity to practice alongside someone of similar skill was worth the cost and I feel we both improved notably

I left the Mages Guild after dinner and walked across the river to Balmora's south end to visit a friend of mine. A Dunmer stopped me on the bridge, another messenger from Dagoth Ur, or so he claimed. At least they are all sticking to the script and let me walk without any issue. By morning the man will likely not even remember being out here, much to his chagrin.

My friend asked me to do a favor for him: visit a few people in Vivec and ask them for information on the Nerevarine and the Sixth House, a cult my friend believes is connected to the Nerevarine prophecy somehow. He gave me the names of three associates of his and a purse of Septims for my expenses...not that I needed them. He also mentioned I might consider joining House Redoran, but I have a lot on my plate right now, as the Imperials say.

I returned to the Mages Guild, taking a different bridge across the river and bought some healing scrolls from Galbedir. The hunt for the next Propylon stone is going to take me into the east, an area dominated by the Telvanni and I am not sure what services I can expect in that region. I bought everything healing-related that Galbedir had, just in case.

My other tasks are more mundane, though the list is long. Tomorrow I leave Balmora and likely will not be back for some time.