Morrowind Day 123 - The World On My Shoulders

15 Evening Star

~~~

I woke this morning at Ald'ruhn surrounded by clutter both worthless and valuable intent on delivering some of it to Mournhold in exchange for what is likely a piece of Lord Nerevar's broken blade. But the thought of traveling back to the dismal city ruled by another mad god of the Dunmer was sufficient reason to divert myself to a place only slightly less hated. Solstheim.

The island is a much quieter place since Hircine's little game was thwarted, so perhaps I don't hate it like I used to. Still, I do not think it is going to be warmer any time soon and I still do not enjoy my time there. However, it made for a good distraction today and kept me out of Almalexia's city for one day, so at least it has that going for it.

Still burdened with the artifacts I had hoped to be rid of at Mournhold's museum, I walked from my small Redoran manor to the north coast to see about securing passage aboard S'virr's smuggling vessel. As luck would have it, he was busy loading his ship with crates as I arrived. For a few Septims and an hour of helping his load his ship, I was back on my way to the icy land. The crates were labeled 'Foodstuff', but I am not sure what food I would want to eat that rattled and clanked as those crates did on the way over.

The little colony of Raven Rock has made much progress since I saw it last and everyone there seems fairly pleased to be there. The tradehouse I recommended be built had been completed, but no merchant has yet been found to take up residence.

When I spoke to Falco about any tasks he might have for me, he brightened and suggested that I go to the fort so that I could tell Carnius that the tradehouse is waiting for an occupant. Unsurprisingly, Carnius holds the deeds required for anyone to open a business at the colony and he has been less than helpful in finding a wayward merchant to open up the store. 

By the time I walked back from the fort to the colony it was already well into the early night, but Falco was still pacing fretfully as he always does. There was another problem. The ship that Carnius hired to replace the one that ran aground arrived at Raven Rock yesterday, but the captain refused to unload his goods or load the colony's ore until he received additional payment. Falco refused and the two men had been at an impasse all day today. Naturally Falco thought I could re-arrange this matter to his advantage.

The captain was a very boastful fellow with little to support his arrogance, the kind of man that seem to exclusively inhabit the worst inns and drinking halls of every major city in Cyrodil and never one to be a friend to Khajiit. After speaking to him for a few minutes I knew this was going to be no easy task unless I resulted to murder, which Falco helpfully warned me against prior.

His name was 'Baro Egnatius', a fact delivered with pride enough to propel his ship back home, though I saw nothing to be particularly boastful of. He told me that he would not accept what Elberoth was being paid and demanded more. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but I could not place it. Fortunately, Baro was the gregarious type, as many Imperials are. 

Elberoth was the Bosmer the undead Nord had been making a meal of several days ago. He was the captain of the first ship and according to Baro a "hell of a fighter", but offered little more than that. I decided to ask the only surviving member of Elberoth's unfortunate voyage.

Apronia outright laughed when I described the former captain as a skilled warrior. She said he had been a completely incompetent captain and spent more time describing his likely imaginative combat exploits than sailing the ship effectively. Perhaps he was in the middle of a tale when he ran it aground. According to her, he lasted for about three seconds against the Draugr, enabling her to scoop up his saber and defend herself, which explained the dead Draugr I found in front of her. Impressive, really.

She still had the blade under the considerable volume of her gown, but said she had no skill or use for the thing anymore and gave it to me. I was at a loss as to what I needed it for as well before a rather cruel idea grew within my mind.

Brandishing Elberoth's saber, I sauntered up to Baro and stuck the point of the sword just under his chin, loudly declaring that he was not the only captain to underestimate Shema: Khajiit and renowned scourge of  the coasts of  Vvardenfell. If he did not agree to Falco's demands, then I would have no choice but to run him through and sell his cargo to Falco myself!

Of course I had no intention of killing the man and I felt Falco's stare at my back as he had specifically told me not to kill anyone. But Baro's bravado collapsed like the facade it was and he started stammering that he was only joking, it was all a misunderstanding, and so on, that he would happily unload his cargo right now and load Raven Rock's ore for sale to the mainland. 

Falco had watched the whole exchange and was nearly laughing while thanking me for resolving another tiny crisis for his colony. My reward was a healthy one thousand Septims, making me wonder what Baro's demand was to make it so unreasonable.

I thought my day over then, but Falco had a more pressing matter than uncooperative captains on his hands. He had been reviewing the mine's logs and the numbers were not adding up. Falco suspected theft, specifically a miner named 'Uryn Maren'. I was given the key to the man's house and told to take a look around, but I found nothing that indicated he was stealing. He was obviously not at home and there was not yet an inn to be drinking at, so I assumed Uryn was still working in the mine.

He was, not with shovel or pick, but a canvas sack I watched him stuff rough-hewn chunks of stone embedded with ebony ore into. I waited until he entered a dead-end to confront him and he comically dropped the bag in shock, spilling all the ore he had been furtively hiding away. He readily admitted to stealing the ore before I even had a chance to open my mouth, babbling that Carnius had put him up to it, threatening to kill the man if he did not cooperate. This sounded unbelievable to me, even for Carnius, but Falco revealed that the true suspect the whole time was Carnius, not Uryn. Evidently relations between the two men have been dropping faster than I expected.

Carnius laughed off Uryn's confession as the fictional story of a madman and liar, but I have not the energy to walk back to the colony tonight. I will deliver Carnius's completely useless response to Falco tomorrow. Everything I have done today could have easily been done by far less adventurous individuals, yet it seems people delight in saving these petty problems just for me to solve.

Morrowind Day 121 - Excitement in Mournhold (Finally!)

13 Evening Star

~~~

Events seem to be approaching a rapid conclusion in Mournhold, though it appears that unknown third actor is the one instigating all of today's excitement.

But the morning started in Thirsk, not Mournhold. With not much to do I decided to visit the colony and see if there was anything for me to help with. Other than a band of poorly-equipped raiders, the walk there was surprisingly peaceful.

It seems like a great deal of progress is being made at Raven Rock, with a few houses completed and already lived-in. Falco was as morose and nervous as I have ever seen him, but when he saw me approach he appeared to be somewhat relieved.

He told me that I had arrived at a crossroads of a sort because Carnius had started to directly act against him, attempting to divert the construction of the colony towards an end Falco was not entirely sure of. Whatever Carnius's reasons were, Falco said that Carnius would likely ask me to aid him when I next spoke with him, but urged me to consider supporting him instead.

I knew both men about equally well, which is to say not almost not at all, but something in Carnius's nature made me reluctant to even approach the man about this matter and Falco had been honest with me so far, so I assured him that he could count on my support against Carnius in the future. He laughed and slapped me on the shoulder, then immediately drew his hand away.

To cover up his obvious embarrassment he asked me to talk with the few residents of Raven Rock and ask them whether he should commission the construction of a smithy or a general trader's shop. With only four people to ask, this was a quickly completed task. Apronia in particular was very insistent upon the trader's, voicing her concern that her single dress was falling apart after her own adventure several days ago. The final tally came to three votes for the trader, one for the smithy, making my decision a rather easy one. Falco promised that the construction would start immediately and said he would have a dress for Apronia delivered from the mainland within a day or two. Apparently there may be something between the two of them and I wish them the best of luck if so.

Falco had one final request of me for the day: to go to the Fort and tell Carnius of his decision. He apologized for shouldering me with the task of speaking with such a disagreeable man, but at least I there was a small boat at the colony to ferry people and supplies back to the fort. I swore to never travel on a boat ever again, but I figure one that stays within sight of a shore is acceptable.

Carnius told me he did not care what was built at the colony, told me to go away, and just about threw a bag of coins at my head as I turned to walk out. I would say the money is welcome, but I am rapidly running out of supplies that I need to purchase anyway. Mostly just arrows and the occasional healing elixir, neither of which are expensive.

With the trader's shop under construction I had no more tasks pending on the island, so it was back to Mournhold via my Recall amulet, then teleportation from the Ald'ruhn Mages Guild to Vivec, and humid walk down the road to Ebonheart.

As soon as I walked into the Palace courtyard in Mournhold, a guard ran up to me and exclaimed that the grand Plaza was under attack by "constructs" and that the Royal Guards were summoning every armed citizen to the Plaza grounds. She urged me to make haste towards the plaza, for she feared the guardsmen and High Ordinators stationed there would soon be overwhelmed. Having apparently no choice, I rushed to the city's defense.

My first impression of Mournhold's invaders were of giant insects, one a light grey color and very fast, the other almost black and slower, but much stronger than the first. The nameless guard who sent me to the Plaza was correct in the city's defenders being outnumbered, but the Royal Guard and High Ordinators had little trouble with dispatching twice their number of enemies. I myself accounted for one of the black creatures.

Upon closer inspection it was obvious that the creatures were more mechanical than animal, hence 'constructs'. Whose constructs is a mystery that everyone in the city is very eager to have solved.

A High Ordinator grabbed me and told me that I needed to go to the Temple and inform Fedris of the successful defense of the city. Again, it appears I had no choice in the matter. 

Fedris was already well-informed of the attacks, but was pleased that I had come to see him, for naturally he had a task for me. The constructs had crawled out of a hole that appeared beneath the plaza's Memorial statue, utterly destroying it. Three High Ordinators had ventured into the hole, but none had yet returned. Fedris asked me to descend into the hole and determine what progress the Ordinators had made.

A ladder was helpfully left behind, allowing me to climb down beneath Mournhold with no fear of a broken leg or some other calamity resulting from having to jump down into it. It was easy to walk along the tunnel the constructs had bored out of the earth, but I sped up as I began to hear sounds of battle. I thought the Ordinators had become engaged with more of the mechanicals, but the tunnel ended in the wall of a large room in which Dwemer guardians fought a losing battle against more of Mournhold's invaders. There was no sign of the High Ordinators.

I saw no reason to join in the vicious melee below me, so I ran back to the ladder, noting that the head of Almalexia's statue had fallen the farthest, unreachable now under a torrent of frigid water. Something about it was very disquieting.

Fedris was unnerved that the creatures were not of Dwemer origin, for now there was a third side that no one had any information about. Evidently unsure of his next course of action, he acted like an Imperial soldier and passed the problem upwards, telling me to speak with Almalexia about the ruins I found.

I found her to be somewhat...disturbed, I suppose. She seemed to care little about the attack on Mournhold and much about a cult she had heard about called the 'End of Times'. All of the known cultists were found dead via strong poison and she feared that the cult would spread throughout the city, driving more cultists to their apparent suicide. She provided me the name of the leader, 'Eno Romari' and asked that I bring him to her alive, not dead. She suggested I speak with a young Dunmer named 'Meralyn Othan', whose brother died as a result of being a part of the cult. She was to be found in the Great Bazaar. 

Meralyn was sad and confused as to how her brother got involved with the cult to begin with. She described it as "destructive, heretical, and frightening...", but then told me Eno Romari was usually to be found standing in front of the Winged Guar in Godsreach. I do wonder how dangerous the cult can be if Almalexia felt that having an Ordinator drag the man to jail was overreaching her power. Meralyn stated the man was usually preaching to passer-bys and drunks, hardly sounding like the leader of some murderous cult.

Eno Romari was quite calm and pleasant for an apparently deranged cult leader. He described the 'End of Times' as an organization dedicated to relieving the suffering of those troubled by these times we are living in.

Talking to him for only a few minutes made it obvious why Almalexia was so eager to silence the man, dead cultists or not. Eno unabashedly stated that the cornerstone of  the 'End of Times' was the belief that the Tribunal has lost its power, heralding doom upon the province of Morrowind. Eno called the loss of the Tribunal the 'Passing of the Three', yet Vivec, Almalexia, and presumably Sotha Sil have not been lost. He dismissed that objection, stating that a "new era" was beginning and that the deaths of the cultists were simply individuals who chose to be reborn when the gates of Oblivion open and Daedra assault the land.

He seemed very earnest in his belief of the world's destruction, but I suppose cult leaders would have to be. Eno assured me that the dead simply "went on ahead" to be ready to battle the Daedra once the battle between the world of Men and the plane of Oblivion began. When exactly this was all going to occur, he could not say. Of course. Mindful of the Lady's instructions, I left the man alone and went back to the Temple.

Predictably, Almalexia did not take the insult to her power very well. In fact, the very notion that her power was waning seemed to have set something off inside of her. She fumed in silence for a few moments after my report, then declared that the city needed a lesson in her power and I was assist with this lesson immediately. 

She did not ask, she demanded that I descend into the ruins where I witnessed the battle and find a Dwemer device called the 'Karstangz-Beharn', which she explained could be translated as 'Weather Witch'. If it was still working the device could be use to control the weather over Mournhold, but Almalexia was not interested in sun or rain. She wanted the Ash Storms of the late Dagoth Ur, which her power had kept from crossing the channel between Vvardenfell and the mainland.

The 'Weather Witch' would let me create an Ash Storm over the city, which Almalexia would then drive away, showing the people of the city that she was still a God to be feared and respected. Those were her words. But they do not seem the words of a caring God. Galsa Andrano's concerns increasingly seem well-founded, but I do not have much choice in the matter. I must go beneath the city once again, but at least it is not the sewers this time.

With her parting words she handed me a Dwemer object that she said I would have to use to awaken the machine. How to do this was not explained, but I am confident I can work that out.

Tomorrow though. It has been a very long, very exciting day and I am in no condition to fight off hordes of Dwemer guardians and whatever creatures swarmed into the city today.

Morrowind Day 120 - Back to Snowy Lands

12 Evening Star

~~~

It is with more relief than I anticipated that I find myself back on Solstheim today. I may have grumbled about the cold island in the past, but after the sewers of Mournhold I am ready to celebrate any reason to be back outside again.

Carnius, with all of his usual charm, asked me to go back to Raven Rock to inquire about a shipping manifest on a ship scheduled to arrive at the young colony. Carnius suspected that supplies were being skimmed off the top as it were and wanted to compare the ship's manifest against his own.

Falco laughed when I told him I was there to find a ship. He pointed towards the shore and asked where a ship of that size would dock. I had been envisioning something quite small actually, but he said that the ships also carried supplies for the fort and normally unloaded their cargo there. Given the dangers present in Solstheim's wilderness, Falco constantly had trouble finding people willing to carry the cargo from the fort to the colony.

However, he had no knowledge of any expected supply ships and suggested I ask around the growing town to see if anyone had heard or seen anything. One of the construction works, a Dunmer named 'Gamin Girith' said that he had seen navigation lights out on the water two nights ago, but fearing that it was a band of raiders, he did not investigate any closer. He pointed me towards the northwest and away I went.

The weather was terrible, with wind and snow conspiring to keep me from seeing more than a few feet in front of me. The rapid pattering of their paws were the only warning I got before the wolves were upon me, but they were no difficulty.

The unexpected undead Nords were a bit more difficult. Two came charging out of the fog as I approached the northwest shore and I managed to slow one down with an arrow before they got too close and dispatched the other with my spear before the wounded one fully recovered. I have never fought Draugr on the surface before, so I assumed something must have drawn them to the area.. I was correct: the "something" was the wrecked remains of the ship Gamin had seen two days ago, along with half-eaten body of a Bosmer.

A woman's voice called out into the fog from behind the wreck asking if it was safe to come out. I was tempted to point out that she would never receive a negative answer to that question, but I assured her I had killed the undead and that it was okay for her to come out of her hiding place.

The voice belonged to an Imperial named 'Apronia' who had booked passage on the cargo ship the night before it left. She appeared to be unarmed and helpless, but the dead Draugr laying before her suggested otherwise. Whatever the case, she asked that I escort her to Raven Rock, but never once explained why she wanted to be there in the first place, only mentioning that she hoped the people at the colony were "nice and liked to chat". What purpose she will serve there is a mystery to me.

Falco was pleased that at least one person survived the wreck and subsequent Draugr attack, but lamented the loss of the pick axes that were onboard the ship. The wreck was fairly close, so I offered to go back to retrieve his equipment. No Draugr awaited me upon my return and the pick axes were cumbersome, but not difficult to carry. Falco paid me an amazing 500 Septims per axe, three thousand in total. People seem very willing to give me large sums of money lately and I still have very little reason to spend most of it.

Carnius was predictably less pleased and less generous than his counterpart. He was angry at me for the ship having been wrecked and threw a bag of coins at me that I later counted out as three hundred. He told me to go away, for just looking at me reminded him of the money he lost with the wreck of the ship. His personality certainly did not start as very good, but it seems to be getting more difficult to deal with him as the construction of the colony progresses. I would think he would be pleased with the recent successes, but for whatever reason that does not seem to be the case.

The day was still young so I followed the river north, intending to visit Thirsk and see if my position as leader had been usurped yet. On the way there I passed the Sun Stone, still alight with the magic I had awoken in it days ago.

I met a Nord dressed in bearskin armor pacing nervously in front of one of the many burial barrows that dot the island. Seeing me pass by, he waved and shouted for my attention, which piqued my curiosity, for most Nords would have nothing to do with a Khajiit, especially in what could be considered an extension of their home province.

The Nord introduced himself as simply 'Ingmar' and asked if I could keep a secret, as if he had never met a Khajiit before...which now that I think upon it, could certainly have been the case. His request was a strange one: He had been sent to the barrow to slay a Draugr that lay within, but his first attempt sent him scurrying back outside. The task was beyond the man's courage to accomplish, but he felt that returning to the village without proof of the Draugr's slaying was worse than death at the creature's hands. The man was more clever than he was brave, for my arrival inspired him to come up with a plan.

His plan was not a great one: I was to enter the barrow first, draw the Draugr's attention, after which Ingmar would enter the barrow and kill the creature while it was distracted. I am not sure why I agreed. I suppose I did not want the man's death on my conscience.

So I went into the barrow first and engaged the Draugr only with my oft-unused shield. While I was deciding on whether or not to kill the thing myself Ingmar stepped inside and cleaved the monster's skull in two with a blow from behind.

He was extremely pleased to have killed it so quickly and bubbled that if I ever visited the village he would greet me as a brother Nord. As for a reward, he admitted he had nothing, but that anything I found in the barrow was mine to keep. I found ten Septims.

The rest of the walk to the Mead Hall proceeded without incident. The mead I had asked Svenja to order had not arrived yet, so there was little to do there other than rest in the chief's room, which was surprisingly still mine. I am not sure where I shall be at the end of tomorrow, but I do hope I am coming to a close with my business at Mournhold.

Morrowind Day 119 - Liches, Gods, and Ships

11 Evening Star

~~~

I greatly tire of this city and its myriad of problems no one else seems able or willing to fix. Almalexia's guards certainly have the equipment and training to clear out the sewers and King Helseth's Royal Guards have the numbers, but neither will make any move that could weaken them in comparison to the other.

Once again I was to go into the sewers and this time to travel nearly the same path as I did traveling to the shrine. This allowed me a walk largely unhindered by combat until my path diverged, but I would have much rather been exploring someplace new. My formerly trodden path diverged into a rough-hewn passageway where two of the "liches" I encountered at the shrine were waiting.

They are powerful spell-casters, but physical very weak, a single blow of my spear or a few arrows were enough to destroy the force holding their bodies together.

Further inside were more of these "liches", some of which summoned their own skeletal warriors to join in their assault against me. They were weak to arrows, so long as I aimed carefully enough to strike them in the head, but their numbers grew as I proceeded deeper into the ruins, culminating in an encounter with Barilzar himself, who I was certainly not warned about!

I had thought the 'Mazed Band' had simply kept its creator's name throughout the ages, but Barilzar was still "alive" as a lich himself, his raspy voice stating I could not be allowed to leave with the ring, which he regretted making to begin with. Any hope of a peaceful negotiation failed when a group of his lich warriors charged past him at me on his command, forcing me into a fighting retreat as I thinned their numbers by bow-shot.

Despite wielding a two-handed Daedric sword that I could barely lift, the undead mage was no warrior himself and obviously depending on his legion of liches and skeletons to guard the Band. Well-versed in fighting more heavily armed and armored opponents, I simply waited for him to unbalance himself with the un-wieldly weapon, then struck with my spear. It took more than a few strikes, but he fell, released from his own self-imposed penance. The 'Mazed Band' I had fought so hard for was nowhere to be found until I realized it was probably the simple, unmarked ring he had on his skeletal hand.

I returned to the Temple with some trepidation, for the wizard's warning kept repeating itself in my head. Fedris wanted nothing to do with the ring, instructing me to speak with the Archcanon. He in turn denied any responsibility for the ring and announced that I had "earned" the honor of speaking with the Goddess herself.

I was rather unimpressed by the so-called Goddess. She seemed tired and distracted, constantly referred to me as her "obedient servant", and only showed any sort of interest in me after she had Barilzar's ring. Her interest only extended as long as it took to wave one of her hands, announce she had bestowed her favor upon me, and then dismiss me from the room. Considering what I had to fight to  get the ring, I expected a bag of coins at the very least.

My brief encounter with Almalexia has me a bit unsettled. What was so terrible about the nondescript ring that he would willingly transform himself into a lich in an effort to ensure no one would claim it for themselves? No one I have asked seems to really know what it is supposed to do, but several people told me it was considered to be an evil artifact and one best left under the city. Of course, I was told this only after I handed it over to the distracted Goddess. I do have a suspicion that this is not the last I shall see of the mysterious ring.

An Imperial called to me as I exited the Temple and I turned to see a young man jogging towards me with a scroll in his hand. It was a summons from Carnius Magius in Fort Frostmoth to return in order to take care of some unspecified business regarding the colony of Raven Rock. Any reason to leave Mournhold was a welcome one, so I headed back to the Palace and had Effe-Tei send me back to Ebonheart. Once back on Vvardenfell I activated my Recall amulet and popped back into my small home in Ald'ruhn. 

There was no way around the long way to the coast, but I was pleased that there were no Blight storms raging above me, even when I was right against Red Mountain itself. I can only hope things will remain as peaceful as this, at least on Vvardenfell.

It was late afternoon when I reached Khuul and well into the night by the time we docked at Fort Frostmoth. I saw no reason to travel the frozen land in near-darkness, so I am staying at the fort until tomorrow. It is nice to be away from Mournhold, even if the alternative is Solstheim.

Morrowind Day 115 - To Mournhold!

7 Evening Star

~~~

I woke this morning at Thirsk at complete loss as to how I was going to spend the day. The only thing I possibly had to do was some menial task related to Raven Rock's construction, so I walked down along the river towards the fort. Surprisingly, there was a message waiting for me there from Arvs Raram, the Master-at-Arms at my Redoran manor. The message was short and urged me to visit as soon as I could, for something important had come up.

The 'something important' was an Ebony dart that one of the ladies of the manor found embedded in the door of the manor-house. My largely Dunmer garrison all suspected that it was a sign that an elite cadre of assassins, the Dark Brotherhood, had a contract on my life. Arvs urged me to speak with a guard to see if the Imperials have had any luck in tracking this elusive group down.

One of the Redoran guards at Ald'ruhn recollected that she had heard an Imperial in Ebonheart named Apellus Matius was working, unsuccessfully, to eliminate the Dark Brotherhood groups in Morrowind. Being my only lead, I was forced to follow it. I returned to the manor to pick up some supplies and walked back to Ald'ruhn so that I could be sent to the Mages Guild in Vivec, then suffered a long, warm, and humid walk down the coast to Ebonheart. 

Apellus assured me that the Dark Brotherhood does not actively operate on Vvardenfell, but that he suspects they operate out of the capital city of Morrowind province, Mournhold. Travel to and from the city was stopped due to the Blight coming from Red Mountain and even with Dagoth Ur gone the city remains shut, except by magical means. Apellus directed me to Asciene Rane about securing a way onto the mainland.

I was expecting something like the rooms of the Mages Guilds, but Asciene sent me to a small room in the Palace with only one other occupant who was, surprisingly, an Argonian named 'Effe-Tei'. Unsurprisingly he was able to send me back to Ebonheart, but I wanted to explore the city first.

Effe-Tei warned me to be careful about who I talked to and what I said. The previous king had recently died and the present king, Helseth, was rather suspected of having a hand in the death. Confusing the matter, Almalexia leads her own Temple guards, the 'Hands of Almalexia', which is causing friction between the two houses of government as they battle for influence. He offered to send me back to Ebonheart, but his warning did not deter me from wanting to explore the city.

I met a man outside the palace willing to serve as a hired blade for 250 Septims, but I was, and remain, confident that I can handle any threat here on the mainland. Continuing to wander, I walked through the gate leading out of the walled palace section of Mournhold and into a large plaza.

With no clue where to go, I simply picked another gate at random and ended up in Mournhold's marketplace and in front of a small portable stage. There were shops behind the stage and I moved around it to inspect the displayed merchandise of an armorer, but a Dunmer behind the stage called out to me as I passed by.

The man was the leader of the little acting troupe and one of his actors seemed to be missing. Bizarrely, he claimed I looked just like his missing actor, which was an obvious lie. Nevertheless, I was asked to play the vacant role and agreed, guessing that I had a few days to study whatever play they were performing. I actually only had two minutes to memorize my lines from a play called "The Horror of Castle Xyr"

I managed to memorize my lines from the first three pages of the play before everyone started rushing to their places to begin the show. I was sure I was about to make a fool of myself, but the play did not last even up to the amount of lines I was ready for. As I was waiting for my next line, a Dunmer in the audience suddenly jumped up on stage with a Daedric sword and attacked me!

He was not a particularly skilled assassin and I dealt with him quickly. The play was obviously ruined, so I returned to the man who conned me into taking the part. He introduced himself as 'Meryn' and admitted that he knew that an assassin was waiting for his lead actor, the man I replaced, to appear on stage. Meryn's actor had recently been caught in an indecent situation with the daughter of a Telvanni, which makes my situation even more ridiculous, unless the assassin thought the daughter had a taste for female Khajiit. Anyway, Meryn paid me two thousand Septims for saving his actor's life and wished me well. A very strange situation, but I am certainly growing used to 'strange'.

A local guard suggested I search the sewers for the Dark Brotherhood if I had a death wish, but as unbelievable as it may sound I felt confident enough about my chances against a group of assassins. Assuming there would be a large number of them, I stopped at a tradehouse in the marketplace and purchased several dozen steel-tipped arrows and a simple long bow.

As soon as I stepped back outside I was being yelled at by a Dunmer, evidently a magic-user of some sort. He was yelling loud enough for the entire marketplace to hear him and announced himself as "Ovis Velas, the great, renowned, respected, and feared wizard". Rather foolishly he declared his ambition to "bring the city to its knees" and then stated he would demonstrate his power immediately on one of Mournhold's own. Of course, he then turned directly towards me, called me an "ugly Khajiit" and attacked. The attack lasted all of about three seconds. Two to pull the spear from the sheath on my back and one to drive it into his chest. The great wizard Ovis Velas was quickly the late, great wizard.

There was a key on the man's body and a thankful bystander helpfully pointed out that there was a manor owned by Mournhold's Velas family in a residential area of the city called 'Godsreach'. I felt my assault against the Dark Brotherhood would go better without another Velas family member flinging magic at my back, so I put off my exploration of the sewers to deal with this unexpected threat.

The key opened the front door to the manor a guard in Godsreach pointed out to me, but inside there was only one Dunmer. Much like his brother, this one started to loudly address me before I could even open my mouth. He made quite the incredulous claim: Ovis Velas was his very unskilled brother who was only trying to pretend to be him, Gavis Velas, for some reason or another. Gavis said he understood my situation in having to defend myself and politely asked that I understand his in avenging the death of his foolish brother...right before he summoned two giant Ogrims into the room.

With no room to maneuver I was sure to be crushed into paste by the hulking Daedra if I played defensively. Instead, I recklessly tried a repeat of my attack on his unfortunate brother, charging straight at him with no regards to the massive scaled hands grasping for me on either side. Flat feet must run in the Velas family, for he was entirely too slow to dodge out of my way or perhaps could not due to the bulk of his summoned minions. The pointed tip of Hircine's oddly shaped spear caught him in the chest and I bore him to the floor, withdrawing only to drive it into his throat. The melee could not have lasted more than six seconds.

As he died his summoned help disappeared in puffs of acrid smoke, including two behind me that I never even knew had been there. Had I not attacked him immediately I would have surely been torn to pieces. He had nothing interesting on him, so I locked the door to the manor behind me as I left. Eventually someone will find the body, but I will probably be long gone from this place by then.

My foray into the sewers should have been more interesting than it was. I met a Khajiit near the marketplace's trapdoor, but she refused to speak with me. Probably Thieves Guild. The other was a Dunmer woman who asked that I keep an eye out for the ghost of her dead husband who had been murdered by a gang operating out of the sewers.

Save for those two the only other inhabitants of the sewers were a few irresponsible summonings, mostly skeletons, and the Dark Brotherhood itself. The latter proved to be something of a disappointment. I was expecting a highly-dangerous assault against a den of experienced assassins and what I found was a small collection of poorly armed individuals occupying two decrepit buildings living more like beggars than elite killers.  

There was at least two dozen Brotherhood members living under the sewers, but most of them were only armed with daggers and short swords. The assassin at the play was better armed than this rabble. The approach to their little compound was long and open from where I had come from, letting me pick off the ones outside with arrows while giving those inside the buildings no warning of my approach. Inside the smaller building were eight assassins, all of them armed with silvered stabbing swords and none of them a match for me and Hircine's spear.

The larger building held fewer assassins, but one of them proved to be a difficult opponent and the source of a valuable piece of information. He had a small scroll in his pocket that specifically named me as a contracted target of the Dark Brotherhood, on the request (and presumably payment) of someone only referred to as "H". Very mysterious and I am not sure I even know anyone whose name begins with an H. Mournhold's new king, King Helseth, comes to mind, but there is no reason why he should want me dead. 

By then it was well into the evening and I had no idea where an inn was, so I distastefully re-entered the Velas manor and am spending the night in the former master's bedroom. I have certainly slept in worse places, but I do not think I will want to be staying here tomorrow.

Morrowind Day 114 - Under Hircine's Eyes

6 Evening Star

~~~

It is a mark of how strange my life has become that today's events do not register as anything but 'slightly unusual'. I suppose I expected it after learning of the Giant's kidnapping, but being woken up by a group of werewolves clutching each of your limbs is quite a startling experience.

It was also a short one, for there was a sudden flash of  red light and I instantly found myself standing in what looked like one of Vvardenfell's Daedric shrines. Still disorientated, I spent a few moments looking around before realizing that I was not alone.

My education on the Daedric Lords is rather spotty, but the man who stood before the only door in the room I instantly recognized as Hircine himself. The Prince appeared before me with the spotted skin of a fawn and wearing only a loincloth, foot wraps, and the large skull of an unfortunate deer. As I approached he summoned a short halberd into his hands, which he idly twirled about as he explained the rules of the Game I had come to anticipate being a part of.

The rules were simple: Behind the door was a series of arenas that the Lord had already sent the other "champions", Captain Carius, Tharsten Heart-Fang, and the Giant Karstaag, through. These arenas were staffed by Hircine's favorite werewolves and I had no doubt they were going to be dangerous opponents, especially given my complete lack of preparation for Hircine's Hunt.

As he disappeared to some deeper part of the place, he warned me that only one of "his" champions would survive the Hunt, implying that I would need to kill the others to proceed. I was dismayed at the thought of having to kill Captain Carius, but curiously felt no such regret for Tharsten, which would prove to be rather observant, as I was to find out.

The Imperial Captain was waiting just inside the first arena and was very happy to see me. He was the first to be summoned to Hircine's arena and fought the werewolves prowling about until he was wounded and forced to fortify a small corner of a wall with rubble while he awaited a friendly face. He offered to join me in fighting our way through Hircine's minions, but the man was obviously pained and I did not think he would survive whatever lay ahead of us.

He agreed to remain in his corner while I worked my way through the werewolf-infested maze. The maze was small, but that worked against me, making it difficult to isolate each werewolf I came across. Several times I would launch an arrow at an unsuspecting enemy, only to have three of them come charging at me, alarmed at the arrow strike on their brethren. I would surely have been overwhelmed had it not been for my silvered spear.

I came across a worn chest towards the center of the circular maze and retrieved a glowing medallion from it. This had the unpleasant effect of turning all of the werewolf ice statues I had been walking by into real werewolves and making my battle back to the Captain just as harrowing as the battle from.

Together the Captain and I worked our way to the center of the maze where we came upon a shimmering gate that only I, the holder of the medallion, could pass through. He said he would guard the gate as I proceeded further into Hircine's arena and that he was sure he could find his own way out. He warned me against both Karstaag and Tharsten, the latter of whose motives he was suspicious of. 

Beyond the gate was another arena, very similar to the one the Captain was still occupying. The Skaal chieftain was apparently waiting for me just inside the gate. He seemed glad to see me as well, but spoke more of Karstaag's lead over him than our cooperation or survival. Nevertheless, the man was stronger than the Captain and unharmed, so I agreed to fight with him to the next gate. Either he would fall to the werewolves or be weakened, for his speech made me certain he would turn on me soon.

Suspicious though he was, Tharsten proved to be a strong warrior and killed four werewolves to my six. But when we found a chest similar to the one from the previous room, he pushed me aside and ran ahead, grabbing the key with a triumphant shout. Curiously, he turned to face me and bragged that the honor of defeating Hircine would fall upon him and revealed that he was in possession of something he called "Hircine's Ring", which had been passed along his family's generations.

With this ring on his finger he felt that the glory of Hircine's Hunt was his birthright and refused any argument against this belief. Eventually he tired of my attempts to persuade him to cooperate and stated that my death during the Hunt would be honored by the Skaal for ten generations. Having said that, he twisted a silver ring on his finger and suddenly became a werewolf!

I was very surprised, but Tharsten gave me little time to think upon this new development. He was in front of me with one leap and a furious melee ensured. My first reaction was the one that probably saved my life: lacking the distance between us to bring my spear to bear, I carelessly shoved my weight against him in an effort to put some space between us. Amazingly this worked and put him off balance for a few moments, which is all I needed.

Standing between two narrow stones, my flanks were secure and he could not get past me. His only option was to strike head-on against the silvered point of my spear. After slaying over a dozen werewolves in Hircine's game, Tharsten proved to be not much of a challenge after all. Perhaps if he had elected to fight me in his human form he would have stood a better chance.

The ring disappeared with a small popping noise, but the key to the next gate remained, so I moved further into the arena, alone.

The next room was not a maze, but a wide open arena in which Karstaag was prowling about. Before today I had never seen a Giant of any kind and I hope to never need to battle with one again. Karstaag was a large, white-furred, horned creature standing at least twice my height, if not more. He moved surprisingly quick for his size, his hands were large enough to envelop and crush me, and his arms likely strong enough to throw me across the room or dash me against the frozen walls.

This match did not seem weighted in my favor.

Our combat turned into a dangerous game of catch: me dashing behind pillars and pieces of rubble to fire arrows and he lumbering after me, throwing the rubble aside and collapsing the pillars. Eventually the trail of blood he was leaving in his wake grew thicker from the increasing number of arrows jutting from his body and he gradually slowed down. When he paused for a moment I rushed forwards with my spear and drove it into his neck with all my strength.

He simply stared down at me and sighed before falling forwards towards me, dead. I barely had enough time to dive out of his way and none at all to retrieve my weapon. The spear shattered with a sharp crack as Karstaag fell upon it and I was left with my bow and short sword, my Daedric spear still at Thirsk.

There was a gate at the far end of the room, but Hircine himself stood before it. I readied myself for what I feared would be a very short battle, but he only asked me a question: What is the hunter's greatest strength: speed, strength, or guile? 

My first instinct was speed, for my own had saved me more times than I could count, but the Daedric Prince would not ask a question merely for his curiosity, so I thought about it a bit. Speed may be my advantage in a fight, but it was guile which ultimately brought down Dagoth Ur, so I decided that would be my answer. 

I had already fought two rooms full of werewolves and one Frost Giant, but I now had to face Hircine and minus my favored weapon at that. I gave him my answer and the battle was on. 

I do not know what difference my answer would have made, but I Hircine fought me as he appeared before me: vaguely man-shaped, with a deer skull helmet (or head, I suppose), and a short pike. Armed only with my Daedric bow and a silvered short sword I picked up from somewhere, I quickly ran away and sought some obstacle to hide behind so that I could safely fire arrows at my opponent.

I cannot say how long our battle lasted. It was one of my most difficult battles, if not the most difficult, that I have ever fought. My encounter with Dagoth Ur is the closest comparison, but I went into that fight well-equipped and rested. I entered this one exhausted from the struggles I had already had, my rest had been interrupted by Hircine's kidnapping, and I lacked the weapon I was most familiar with.

Fighting an enemy armed with a spear when you only have a short blade is a poor idea, but I had always been the one with the spear in that pairing up until today. I was forced to commit to hit-and-run attacks with my bow, but fortunately I had also brought with me to Solstheim three very rare Daedric arrows, all of which I employed against Hircine after exhausting my silvered arrows, none of which seemed to cause him any worry.

Two missed, but the third struck him in the left eyehole of his helm, rending a horrible scream from him that echoed about our frozen chamber. It seemed more in rage than pain, but he dropped his spear in an effort to remove the arrow and I quickly dashed towards him and forced my silvered blade into the right eyehole, admittedly wincing as I did so. I would never perform such a cruel strike against a mortal foe, but I felt a Daedric Prince who delighted in murdering hapless Nords and kidnapping Khajiit could be made to suffer a bit.

Even this was not enough to kill him, but being stabbed five times with his own spear was enough to end Hircine's mortal visitation.

The glowing medallion on his body opened the gate leading out and away from his arena and when I stepped outside I found I was completely surrounded by a wall of ice. I started to walk towards it, intent on seeing if the wall could be scaled, but I took no more than two steps before a bright flash blinded me and a thundering explosion slammed into my chest.

When I could see and breathe again the wall had collapsed in front of me and the underground arena behind me had fallen in on itself. The voice of Hircine sounded in my head, a congratulations on my victory and a promise of his that the Hunt would return again one day. Be that as it may, I hope I am not around to take part in it again.

I was in an area of Solstheim I had not visited before, but the shore was at my back, so I had to be on the western half of the island. After I found the northern shore I knew almost exactly where I had been and confidently and tiredly walked back to the Skaal's village.

Korst somehow knew what had happened before I said anything. He recognized Hircine's spear and told me that it was an extremely rare honor that any mortal should be carrying it, but I was too tired to feel honored, I guess. He asked after the late chieftain and I had not the heart to tell him about Tharsten's betrayal...though I suppose a Skaal might not see what he did as such. Either way, I told Korst that Tharsten fell while bravely fighting a horde of Hircine's best hunters and the shaman was satisfied with that answer. 

I rested in the village for an hour, repairing my equipment as best I could, but I was concerned that Captain Falx had not escaped the collapse and set off along the river, passing by Thirsk on my way south. The weather steadily cleared as I got closer to the southern shore and by the time I reached the coast the sun was bright and the skies were clear, cheering me considerably.

The Imperial Captain had survived his part of the Hunt as well. The troops of Fort Frostmoth were happy to have him back and repairs were finally beginning to the wrecked fort. I was directed to the Captain's chambers where he was recovering and he greeted me with a very surprising hug, something Khajiit certainly are not accustomed to, even among ourselves.

He seemed a bit embarrassed by his show of gratitude and covered it by suggesting I see Carnius Magius about some trouble the East Empire Company was having at the mine. I wished him health and went to speak to the shifty Company man. As expected, he knew nothing, but demanded that I go to site of the new town, Raven Rock, and see what the problem was.

Construction had been proceeding while I was away saving Solstheim from the ravages of Hircine's werewolves. Nothing was completed yet, but several buildings were well on their way.

After this morning's fight the problem at Raven Rock was laughable: a drunk Skaal was brawling with any workers that tried to do any work. A rather exasperated Falco asked me to deal with the Nord, but without killing the man. He and the workers had taken to calling the man 'Hroldar the Strange' and I easily spotted the furious looking Hroldar pacing in front of a half-completed building. He shouted at me, stating that the construction would incur the wrath of Nature and he was the guardian of Solstheim, or something like that.

I had little patience to deal with such foolery and grabbed the man by the throat with one hand while I sent my right crashing into his chin. I think I nearly broke my hand, but the man stumbled backwards and cried out that he had (already) enough. He accepted my demands to leave Raven Rock and thus ended a very short and strange episode of the day.

Falco has some very deep pockets, for he gave me a thousand Septims just for punching a Nord, though I suppose keeping his schedule is worth any amount to him. He asked me to let Carnius know that the construction was resuming.

Contrary to Falco, Carnius was actually disappointed that I did not kill the man, stating that the "natives" need to learn to respect Imperial steel. Quite a bold statement for a man living inside a wrecked fortress following a raid an Imperial garrison could not prevent. He had no further tasks for me today, so I decided to take my rest at Thirsk.

It has been a very long day and I evidently have accomplished a task approaching equality with striking down Dagoth Ur, but it does not feel much like that. Against the mad God I had allies, a plan, and a long road towards my eventual confrontation and victory. Here my foe was unknown until only a few hours before meeting him, I had no allies for most of it, and the conclusion of the Bloodmoon Prophecy ended before I barely knew it had begun.

I just feel confused and tired, but Hircine's spear is mine now for whatever good or evil it may bring me. It is enchanted, though I do not know with what. The future, as it always has been, is cloudy and I do not know what it holds for me. I hope I will be able to dedicate some relatively peaceful days towards the construction of Raven Rock, then perhaps I shall return to Vvardenfell for good.

Morrowind Day 113 - Nobody Home

5 Evening Star

~~~

This morning I was ready to assault a castle filled with small, hostile enemies so that I could talk to a "Frost Giant" to find out why hundreds of animals were washing up dead on the shore. It was going to be one of my stranger days, but as usual my expectations did not match the reality of what the day held for me.

The castle called 'Karstaag' was not exactly what I expected. Told it was a Frost Giant's adobe, I envisioned a castle built of giant blocks of ice and snow. Instead I got a single giant block of ice that the Giant must have carved a home out of. I had also expected a teeming mass of Rieklings garrisoning the castle, but found only two of them outside, each upon its tusked steed.

The advantage was theirs on the flat terrain surrounding the castle and I had no inclination to stand and fight two of them at the same time. Following Korst's advice I fled to the coast and sought the secret underwater entrance. It was easy to find and the swim was fortunately a short one. I surfaced at the end of a long corridor guarded by a single Riekling, but when he saw me he held up his hands and proclaimed that he was not an enemy.

The little creature called himself 'Krish' and he was in a bit of trouble himself. The Giant, also named 'Karstaag', had disappeared a few days ago under circumstances similar to that of Captain Carius and Chief Tharsten: a sudden attack by werewolves and the equally sudden absence of the local leader...though how the werewolves would abduct a Giant is certainly something to ponder.

With the castle's master gone, Krish attempted to overthrow what few loyal Rieklings remained, but his hired Grahl creatures turned on him and his party before they made it into the castle. Krish was the only survivor and could neither sneak his way past the Grahl, nor swim out the way I came in. His only asset was that he possessed an enchantment granted by Karstaag that allowed him to magically unlock the sealed door into the castle's main Hall. His suggestion was to speak with the Riekling that had temporarily taken charge, one named 'Dulk'.

A deal was struck: I would slay the Grahl and he would let me into the castle so that I could speak to the supposed leader of the loyal Riekling garrison. There were eight of the monstrous creatures lumbering about the icy corridors, but they were slow and the corridors long and straight. Each of the eight took upwards of twenty-five arrows each to weaken enough to dispatch with my spear, but eventually they all lay dead and I retrieved the Riekling rebel.

He was true to his word and led me to a staircase of ice leading upwards that I otherwise would have probably missed finding. The stairs led to a very large banquet hall with a massive table that could have comfortably seated forty Rieklings. Four of them attacked us without any attempt at figuring out why a Khajiit and a Riekling were together to begin with and they had no chance, even with Krish running away before the fight began.

Dulk proved to be a great deal smarter than his four ex-comrades and immediately asked why I was standing in front of him with the "evil", as he called him, Krish. I told him I did not care either way about the troubles of the castle, only that I had come to discuss the mystery of the dead horkers with the master of the castle, the Giant Karstaag.

The dutiful Riekling confirmed Krish's story: a few days ago a pack of werewolves assaulted the castle and somehow abducted the Frost Giant during the turmoil. Dulk remained confident that his master would be returning shortly and intended to remain at the castle doing what he could until that occurred. At that point the two Rieklings started arguing about who should be the new master of the castle and I decided it was time for me to go.

With the confirmation and method of Karstaag's disappearance Korst finally felt ready to divulge what the 'Bloodmoon Prophecy' actually was. This prophecy dictates that a "demon god" will walk upon the land of Solstheim accompanied by his "Hounds", no doubt the werewolves. This god, known in the prophecy as "The Hunter" is preceded by three nights, each with a different portent of his coming.

The first sign is "Fire From the Eye of Glass", which would be the magical fire burning atop the lake just beyond the village. The second sign is the "Tide of Woe" as seen by all of the dead animals washing up on the shore. The third sign is the reddening of the moon, but it being overcast all day and night, this is not something that is yet provable.

Korst was rightfully worried and gifted me a sword he said would be a great help against the coming trouble. Its a sword I can neither lift nor use and as such is completely worthless to me, as many of the Skaal's gifts have been. Clearly they do not have much business with Khajiit.

The next step of this strange event is something Korst called "The Hunter's Game". This game is simple enough: the Hunter's Hounds capture strong warriors and make them run a violent gauntlet, with the victor facing the Hunter himself and likely a quick death. Korst could not tell me if the Hunter had claimed all the participants he wanted, nor who the next would be.

Given my life's luck I will not be surprised to find that I am on the Hunter's list. Time will tell.

Morrowind Day 112 - As They Close In

4 Evening Star

~~~

I have completed the latest of Korst's requests, but have only more questions and mysteries than I started with. There is certainly something happening on Solstheim that is invisible to me and I feel that the recent events are being directed by someone or something. A reckoning with this person is closing in day by day as the events are becoming increasingly violent and overt.

The retrieval of the Skaal's totem of 'Claw and Fang' was my first goal today. Korst needed it in order to begin a ritual which he hoped would strengthen the Skaal against the as yet unknown threat looming before all of us. He told me that the totem was in an ancestral tomb of the Skaal, creatively named the 'Tomb of Skaalara'. He assured me that wards placed upon it would keep the tomb free of anything hostile, but I was skeptical of that claim, rightly so as it would turn out.

The tomb was very easy to find, in fact I must have walked by it the other day while I was exploring the small island with the locked door. Recently trampled snow at the entrance warned me to expect something so the attack right inside the entrance came as little surprise.

It fell quickly and I cautiously proceeded further into the tomb, it seeming to be now unguarded. The totem was easy to find, but as I was making my way back out a collection of howls from just ahead of me set my fur on end.

Waiting for me to reach the deepest part of the tomb before springing their trap from the entrance had been surprisingly clever, but their cleverness did not extend to figuring out how best to employ their greater numbers. Instead of encircling me as I would have thought, they simply came at me in ones and twos, the yet-to-be-fought content to watch the demise of their brethren.

Korst was unnerved to hear that the sacred home of the Skaal's ancestors had been assaulted, but assured me that the completion of the ritual for which the totem was necessary, the 'Ristaag', would strengthen the Skaal against this new threat. He also taught me how to summon the Skaal's guardian wolf spirits, but I think what we are up against is beyond the capability of a wolf. Perhaps I shall set one against a Nix-Hound some day.

The 'Ristaag' ceremony was immediately scheduled to start once the moon had risen. I was to meet a much respected hunter named 'Rolf Long-Tooth' who would guide me and two others during the ritual. It was still early in the morning though and I did not have a whole lot to do until nightfall. I still had Louis's coveted amulet and now time enough to go back to Ald'ruhn to deliver it.

Louis was overjoyed to receive the amulet at long last and dropped a very heavy sack of Septims in my hands that I later counted out to 1,500, a hefty sum. Whatever he plans on doing with it must be very important indeed.

I stocked up on supplies before starting back out on the long walk to Khuul, making a point to buy as many arrows as were available. The fort on Solstheim does not stock many and the Skaal expect each hunter to craft his own, so restocking my own supply is, as always, a great challenge on the island.

It was deep into the night when I arrived back on Solstheim and I hurried to meet Rolf Long-Tooth waiting by the lake. I kept my encountered with the wildlife to a minimum by maintaining my water walking spell and traveling atop the small river that fed from Lake Fjalding and found the hunter and two other Skaal, a man called 'Sattir the Bold' and a woman named Grerid Axe-Wife, an hour later.

They were eager to begin and explained that the ritual was fairly simple: Korst had used the amulet I retrieved for him to summon a large bear spirit for the four of us to stalk. Once the beast was slain, we were to return its ethereal heart back to Korst who would offer it to the Skaal's 'All-Maker' for protection against the werewolves.

Things started to go wrong as soon as we began. Despite having just suffered a large attack on their village the Skaal decided to spread out in order to find the bear quicker. I stayed with Rolf, but we had not gone far when a man's scream sounded to the right of us. Rolf sent me to investigate and I did not have to go far to discover Sattir's clawed and mutilated body, the obvious work of werewolves.

Unknown to us, we hunters had been the 'hunted' all along, the werewolves laying in wait to ambush us and disrupt the ritual, for whatever good that may have done. Rolf was more concerned that the ritual would be disrupted than he was with the hunter's death and urged me to follow so that we might quickly find the spirit bear. We had not gone far before another scream startled us, this one from Grerid. Once again Rolf sent me to discover what had happened and I found the woman's body torn to pieces, death no doubt having come mercifully quick. Aware that my guide was unprotected, I hurried back just in time to intercept a group of werewolves loping towards him.

He immediately rushed to my aid and accounted for the defeat of one werewolf to my two. Rolf was determined to finish the ritual, no matter what, and urged me to follow him deeper into the forest after the bear spirit we were to fight.

After the murder of our two companions and the battle against the murderers the spirit bear felt like something of a letdown. To be fair, it was the biggest bear I have ever seen, but it was still just a bear. We slew it with no difficulty and Rolf granted me the dubious honor of carrying the thing's bloody heart back to the village.

For receiving the heart Korst taught me another summoning spell, this one to summon a bear to fight alongside me. I certainly hope a bear would be stronger than a wolf, but the time and effort spent casting the spell in battle would probably be better spent stabbing my enemy.

Things had gotten worse while I was at Ald'ruhn earler in the day. The village's hunters reported that hundreds of the tusked, crawling things the Skaal call 'horkers' are dead with no obvious cause. Their bodies are unmarked, but dead horkers have been washing up on the north shore all day. Ever resourceful, the hunters are slaughtering the fresh corpses and seem content for the tusks and meat, but Korst is concerned that all the recent events are contained within the 'Bloodmoon' prophecy he had mentioned a few days ago.

Rather than explain what this prophecy was, Korst asked me to travel to an isolated castle of ice named 'Karstaag' in which an ice giant, or so he says, resides within. The little blue goblins I have been fighting live in the castle with this giant and Korst wants me to pay a visit in order to determine if the horkers' deaths are due to some work of either the giant or the goblins, or 'Rieklings' as he calls them.

It will be my first assault upon a castle in my life and I can say I am not looking forward to it. Those goblins are fierce fighters by themselves, I do not relish the thought of an entire castle filled with them. Not only that, but I should probably visit Frostmoth to see how the construction of the mining town is doing. The completion of that will ease my burdens here considerably.

Morrowind Day 111 - Kerra, Mead Hall Chieftain

3 Evening Star

~~~

What a day! It started with combat against something that was clearly not a werewolf and ended in my very own Nord mead Hall. I like to think the gains I have made today balance out the drudgery of visiting the Skaal's stones.

My day began two hours after it last ended, the very short nap plus the chaotic events of yesterday lending me more energy than I would have had otherwise. Barred from the Skaal village, it seemed a good idea to eliminate this 'Udyrfrykte' which I had assumed was a werewolf.

It's lair was extremely, and foolishly, close to the Hall itself. I anticipated a long trek and received a ten second walk to the lake where its formerly frozen-shut lair awaited me. It was a very small lair and I could certainly understand why a creature trapped inside of it for any length of time would finally exit quite angrily.

I heard and smelled the creature before I saw it. The unmistakable sounds of bones breaking and the tearing of flesh filled the tiny corridor I was cautiously walking along. When I turned the only corner, I was faced not with a werewolf, but a giant man-like monster with shreds of flesh hanging from its mouth and a gore-stained leg clutched in its hand. I have faced many a foul beast so far, but this thing had the strongest aura of animal rage and violence that I have ever encountered.

Several arrows jutted from its body, no doubt from the former warriors of the drinking Hall. If they were causing the beast any pain it did not show it, balancing itself on two legs and an arm as it loped towards me, swinging the unfortunate Nord's leg in its free hand. If the arrows jutting out of its back gave it any concern, it did not show it. 

I, however, got a much luckier shot than the Nords had. My first arrow went straight into its eye, stopping its charge immediately and my second slammed into its throat, sending it sprawling. I gave it no chance for recovery and leaped upon it immediately, repeatedly stabbing it in the neck with my spear. The beast's thrashings ensured that I was covered in foul-smelling blood, but it was dead. Aware that I needed to bring back proof of my victory (other than a coating of blood), I carved its heart out of its chest, partly for a trophy and partly to ensure it stayed dead.

The rest of the cave was littered with the remains of warriors not as lucky as I. The 'Udyrfrykte' slept on a nest of frozen grasses and skulls and incomplete skeletons, with their weapons and armor nearby, were in every corner.

The Hall was closed for repairs when I returned and I spoke with a Breton bookseller outside who was working on his latest edition of 'Thirsk, A History'. I wonder how much a book like that would really be in demand, but it must keep the man fed somehow. 

Svenja was overjoyed to have the monster's heart dropped into her hands. She declared that the heart would sit on the pedestal of Thirsk and that I had but one more task, as always, to complete before I could be named Chieftain of the Hall.

She asked that I go to 'Hrothmund's Bane' across the stream to the west. By coincidence this was also the place the Ald'ruhn mage, Louis Beauchamp, had said his amulet was to be found in. For her I needed only to touch a large battle-axe that lay within the cavern to receive Hrothmund's blessing. Rare are the opportunities to solve two problems at once, so I readily agreed to Svenja's request.

The cavern was the same one I visited several days ago when it asked me a question before allowing me in. Louis had told me the correct answer was 'Ondjage', so I was permitted entrance today. It was not much larger than the lair of the Udyrfrykte and the giant axe sat embedded in a chunk of rock in the middle of the main chamber.

Following Svenja's instructions I grasped the handle of the axe and proclaimed my intention to become Chieftain of Thirsk. As soon as I finished speaking, the axe glowed and I suddenly had a minor Shield blessing, though I could not determine how strong. I took it to be a sign of Hrothmund's approval and grabbed Louis's amulet, which was right by the axe, as I turned to leave.

I still needed to visit the Fort to see about purchasing a disease cure for the affliction the werewolves put upon me, but it was on my way back to the Hall that I had the strangest stroke of luck. A nearly naked Nord came charging over a small hill at me, screaming and waving a two-handed axe. An arrow sent him tumbling down the hill, dead, and on his body was a flask of disease curative. It smelled okay, so I drank it and instantly the constant itching that has plagued me since the fight disappeared and with it, I hoped, had the disease.

The Hall was open when I returned and Svenja was inside waiting for me, along with two Nords I never met before. They were eager to uphold the sacred rites of Thirsk, both being quite drunk already. Svenja explained that she could run the day-to-day tasks of Thirsk, but it was up to me to direct the clan. I could send my two drunk hunters out into Solstheim to hunt for pelts, I could order mead from Skyrim, and I could also collect whatever profits the Hall made from the sale of that mead.

As we did not have any mead and I strongly doubted the prowess of my huntsmen I asked Svenja to order mead. What happens to it after that is her responsibility. She directed me to my quarters and mentioned that the three of them pooled some of their money to give me a gift, which was waiting in my room. 

The gift was not the snow bear head I had been expecting, but an equally useless Nordic longsword. I stowed it under the bed and went to the guest rooms. The Imperial Cultist prisoner was gone, I suppose she escaped after the  battle in the Hall and the Breton author was in my former room. He presented me with a revised copy of 'Thirsk, A History', which detailed the reigns of all of the mead Hall chieftains. I flipped through it, noting that many had very short rules. It may be best to step down before a Nord wonders why a Khajiit is sitting on the Hall's throne.

I had to see if my disease had really been cured by the wayward Nord's potion, so I walked along the coastline from Thirsk towards the village and took some time to explore a small island that sat just off the beach. I found a locked door, but could see no way of opening it. A mystery for a later time perhaps.

Korst Wind-Eye was able to confirm that the disease of lycanthropy was no longer within me, to my great relief. He named me 'Blood-Skaal', which means I am now a friend of the tribe and fully welcome among them. I was granted a home, my second one of the day, but it was the late Rigmor Half-hand's home and not one I felt comfortable using.

Naturally the shaman had yet another task for me: to complete the Skaal ceremony of 'Ristaag', some sort of cleansing ritual. However, he first needed me to retrieve a magical Skaal totem that is required for the ritual.  This totem of 'Claw and Fang' was in a tomb to the southeast of the village, but I was much too tired to attempt this tonight.

Instead I walked back to Thirsk, past the drunken celebrating Nords and up the stairs to my "quarters", which was really a bigger version of the meager accommodations I was accustomed to at this place. The bed is much better than a pile of furs though and I suppose I will be either traveling back to the Fort tomorrow or taking on the Korst's latest task.

Never any free time and always too much to do.