The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl: The Hunter's Moons Options

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There was a hammering on my door this morn and, feeling a little bleary-eyed after last night’s festivities, I threw on a robe and went to see who was there. Outside stood a tall, fair-haired woman with brilliant blue eyes. She was carrying a huge pail, from which rose an appetising smell. Bobbing a curtsey, she stepped inside and walked to the table in the corner. Fetching a bowl from the shelf, she removed the cover from the pail and ladled a grey coloured gruel into the earthenware bowl. “Will ye be having the salt or the honey wi’ yer porridge?” she asked.

“Honey,” I replied, nonplussed. With a smile, she fetched a small wooden box from her apron and, opening it, she scraped a thick curl of honey from the comb inside and dumped it into the steaming gruel. Taking a spoon, I sat and tentatively tasted the stuff. The smell hadn’t lied ~ despite its unappealing appearance, the ‘porridge’ was very pleasant. A thick mixture of some grain and milk, boiled until it was thick and glutinous.

“I have messages for ye,” the woman said. With my mouth full, I indicated with my spoon that she should speak. “The Shaman wishes ye tae see, at your earliest convenience. An’ Snedbrir the Blacksmith has that you visit him asked.”

“Thank you…” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“Anyanka,” she replied, blushing slightly before beating a hasty retreat. As the door shut behind her, I scraped the bowl clean of the last traces of its contents and sat back with a sigh. Since the blacksmith’s forge was closest to Rigmor’s… my house, I decided to visit there first.

“Bloodskaal,” Snedbrir said, setting down his hammer as I stepped into the workshop at the back of his hut. “I have for you something more fitting than the furs ye’re wearing.”

I noticed my Templar armour sitting on a bench. The blacksmith had hammered out the few dents it had picked up and polished it until it gleamed. This, however, was not what Snedbrir meant. Beside the forge was a form, a simple block of wood carved into the rough likeness of a human figure. Adorning this mannequin was a set of armour. Made of a silvery-coloured metal, the tiny interlocking rings glistened in the light of the forge. Elsewhere, beaten panels of solid metal had been worked into various designs ~ swirls and knots predominantly, but there was a scene on the shield that ~ on closer examination ~ showed a stylised Dunmer battling a wolf-like creature.

“My Gods, it’s beautiful,” I breathed as Snedbrir lifted the ring-mail cuirass from the wooden form and helped me into it. It was quite a bit heavier than the Templar armour, but not so heavy that it would cause me a problem. The shimmering links of chainmail flowed like heavy water as I moved. In addition to the long cuirass, there was a pair of greaves, a pair of boots, gauntlets, pauldrons, and a massive helm. The huge, square shield completed the equipment.

Clad in my Skaal armour ~ shield slung across my back in imitation of the Skaal guards, I stepped outside ~ slipping the short silver-blades that I seemed to have inherited into the sheaths that Snedbrir had affixed to the belt. I wished that I had a reflecting glass but the admiring glances of the guards as I walked passed them told me how good the armour looked. Korst seemed quite impressed as I stepped into his hut, nodding his approval.

“A true warrior o’ the Skaal ye now look,” he said. We sat, and Korst told me that he feared that Tharsten Heart-Fang had met a similar fate to Captain Falx Carius. I got the impression that Korst Wind-Eye knew far more about what was going on that he would, or was willing to, tell me. Worried that pressing for an answer might offend the Shaman; I listened as he detailed what needed to be done.

“Afore he went an’ vanished, Tharsten was tae speak wi’ ye about something that needed tae be done. Did he?” I shook my head and Korst sighed. “So, a ceremony there is that we need tae perform. This ceremony is called the Ristaag. I have my suspicions about the threat we’re facing but the Ristaag will confirm it. There is a wee problem. Afore we can the Ristaag perform, we have need o’ a token o’ the Skaal. ‘Tis a necklace, simple leather wi’ a wolf-fang an’ a bear-claw on it.

“‘T’will take a fierce warrior tae get the Totem from Skaalara,” he continued, “and 'tis you that I’m sure should go. It cannae be coincidence that ye here should arrive just as these strange events start tae happen…”

“If you’re implying…” I said, cutting across what he was saying. “…That I had anything to do with whatever is going on…”

“Whist,” he said, dismissing my interjection with a wave of his hand, “the cause o’ the events? I think not. But the trigger that started these events: aye that ye may be. An’ for that reason, ‘tis you who should fetch the Totem of Fang and Claw from Skaalara.”

“What events?” I asked. The Shaman sat, lost in thought for a moment, and then responded to my question.

“Some ~ the disappearance o’ Tharsten an’ your Captain Carius, the sudden appearance o’ so many werewolves, the flames on the open ice ~ ye ken already. Some, such as the unquiet dead, ye dinnae know anything about. There are others that I will nae discuss wi’ ye at this time. Others have not yet come to pass and, askin' the One’s favour, willnae.”

“Unquiet dead?” I asked.

“There have reports been,” he said, “o’ the walking dead near tae Telos Rin. I’m no convinced that these have anything tae do wi’ the Blood…” he stopped suddenly. “Anything tae do wi’ the problems we’re facing,” he concluded. “Ye may want tae look into it. Telos Rin is down by the coast, speak tae the caretaker if ye’ve a mind tae investigate.”

Finding Telos Rin wasn’t difficult, I just headed over the edge off the hill and down towards the shoreline. The caretaker was a thin Nord named Fjolfr Brown-Eyes. He seemed to think that there are catacombs below the tombs but he knew very little about the recent disturbances: in fact, he asked me to report back to him if I discovered anything about them. With Fjolfr’s blessing, I entered the dark Barrow that housed the tombs of the Skaal.

The Barrow was quite small, just four chambers branching off from the main entrance. In one of the chambers, I discovered a Dragon-Slayer blade ~ a heavy, two-handed sword of the sort favoured by the legendary warrior Kilgarn. Despite its unwieldy size, I took this ancient blade ~ even if I cannot use it, it will make an excellent addition to my growing collection of artefacts. In one of the side-tombs I discovered a hidden door that led down into the catacombs below the Barrow.

A short, snowy passageway hacked into the ice led down to another set of chambers. The grey stone walls stretched away in front of me, broken on the left by a passageway. Deciding to head down the short passageway, I quickly found myself in a central burial chamber. The mouldering corpse that had been chained to the pillar of stone directly opposite the entrance to the crypt gave me pause for thought ~ as did the note affixed to its grinning head:

CODE

Be Warned:

All who seek their fortunes amongst the remains of the dead shall find only remorse.  I will no longer stand by and let my family's remains be pawed over by mere thieves.  Leave this place, and remove nothing, lest fate deal with you as it has those who've come before you.

Above all else - do not approach the resting places of these honored warriors.  

You have been warned.



Melos Rin

Son of Felos "Bear Kin"

6th Year Necromancer

Well, you might as well wave a sword at a Nordic warrior as put something like that on a note in a crypt. Any self-respecting thief, rogue, or adventurer is going to be compelled to examine the contents of the tomb after a warning like that. I was no exception. The fluttering banner identified the scattered bones in the first niche as Felos Bear-Kin. Arrayed by the shelf were some fur-covered armour (from the bear’s head helm I guess that this was bearskin), a large, double-headed Nordic axe, and a small stone chest. This stone box yielded up five ten-Septim pieces.

Since nothing untoward had happened when I’d taken the coins, I moved around the chamber to the second niche. The rotting banner identified these bones as having been one Kelos Keen-Eye. Now this was more like it: there was a demon-bound longbow, three pieces of armour, and a chest containing ten five-Septim pieces. Touching the box seemed to trigger some form of summoning spell, there was a clatter of bone behind me and I turned to face three skeletal warriors armed with axes.

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Weary from my vigil against the reoccurrence of the dream, I left the Valbrandr Barrow after breaking my fast and continued north through he snow-shrouded woods. The crisp morning air was just what I needed after a night like last night and I soon found myself feeling far cheerier. So it was, in this fairly good frame of mind that I came upon a most bizarre sight.

There, nestled amidst the trees, was a small cabin that was festooned with brightly coloured lanterns. As I approached, I saw a small, huddled body in the snow ~ a Suthay-Raht whose body stank with the distinctive acidic smell of Moon Sugar. Clutched in one paw was a sheet of paper; scrawled on this were the same verses I’d read in Thirsk.

He he! Ha ho!
To the workshop he will go!
My Uncle's candy is so sweet!
It's such a yummy winter's treat!
When the sugar is warmed by the pale hearth’s light
The happiness spreads throughout the night!
He he! Ha ho!
To the workshop he will go!
Uncle Sweetshare is coming near
To spread his candy and his cheer!
It's better than trinkets, games or toys
So say all the little girls and boys!
He he! Ha ho!
To the workshop he will go!
Candy, candy -- he makes so much!
Uncle Sweetshare has a magic touch!
So it's back to the workshop in the snow!
With lovely lanterns all aglow!

Inside the hut I found a grossly fat Bosmeri, a ridiculous white Colovian fur hat perched on his head. With a glower at the grinning figure, I asked, “Are you the buffoon that’s going around giving everyone Moon Sugar?”

"My candy treats are tasty, they are! And filled with special sugar and love!" he exclaimed, performing a mad shuffle. "They bring happiness! Happiness to everyone on Solstheim! That's what I do, you see! I give out my special sugary treats and spread happiness throughout the land! It's difficult work, but oh so very rewarding! M'nashi certainly thought so. Ahh, M'nashi, the dear lad...."

“M’nashi?” I asked, “You mean the dead Khajiiti outside?”

"M'nashi was my assistant! He helped me make my candy! He so loved his sugar, M'nashi did," the grotesque little Bosmer said in a singsong voice. "Loved it a little too much, I'm afraid! He died, you see. His… ah… sweet tooth got the better of him. I buried him, just outside. We had a lovely little ceremony. The Horkers came and sang for him, they did! He he he! Ha ha ha ha ha!"

“Now listen up short-stuff,” I went on, poking a finger into his ample girth, “this has just got to stop. You can’t go around poisoning people with Moon Sugar. Severia Gratius has…”

"Oh, that Severia Gratius is so grumpy!" the Bosmer said, pulling a rueful face. "Maybe I should visit her next! Because that's what I do. I visit the sad and miserable and spread all the happiness I can! It is the way of Uncle Sweetshare, you see! Now that Jeleen, there's a sad, sad boy. His true love has disappeared, don't you know. Very sad, very sad." The Bosmer smiled a sudden and utterly crazed smile, adding. “That’s why I sang to him! He needed something extra, something special! Sugar and a song! It cures all!"

“You’re completely insane, aren’t you?” I said, unable to suppress a grin at the thought of this little twerp singing to the very stern Severia Gratius.

"He he he he he!" 'Uncle Sweetshare' giggled, clutching his wobbling stomach. "Mad? Mad, you call me? Oh no, Dark Elf, it is you who are mad! For how can anyone who doesn't recognize true happiness ever be considered sane? Oh why oh why can't you people just be happy? Well, let's get to it then! He he he, ha ha!"

With that, the still giggling Bosmeri scooped up a handful of fine white powder and threw it right in my face. With a cry that was half outrage and part pain, I lashed out at the spot the rotund Bosmeri had been standing. Of course, my fist contacted with nothing but air.

With a resounding ‘CLANG’ that set my ears a-ringing, something heavy and metallic bounced off the back of my helm. Staggering forwards, I rubbed frantically at my streaming eyes, cursing and coughing as, damn’ near blinded, I lurched around the hut. It was fortunate that the burning powder had gone in my eyes ~ the agonising pain made them flow copiously with tears and this was rapidly washing my eyes clean.

Everything was still very blurred, but I could just make out the brown-robed shape lining up another blow with the heavy iron pot he was toting. With a scream that echoed around the hut, I yanked the twin blades from their scabbards and slashed out with them. My scream was echoed by another as the blurry figure in front of me was suddenly covered in red. With evil hissing sounds, the blades whipped through the air in a complex pattern, the slight tugging as their razor-sharp edges made contact all I needed to press forwards.

When there were no more sounds, I reeled to the nearest wall and trailed my bloodied hand along it until I reached the door, yanking it open; I rushed outside and scooped up a handful of snow. Ohhh sweet Azura that felt so good. When the stinging and burning sensations had gone, I wiped my face and stepped back into the hut.

Stepping around the leaking corpse, I quickly examined the contents of the hut before taking the Colovian helm and tucking it into my pack. If I was in the Moon Sugar trade, I could have made a vast fortune from the crystals that were piled everywhere. A small, portable mortar and pestle caught my eye ~ other than the helm, it was the only thing I took from the hut.

Thirsk loomed through the snow, and I trudged up the slope and through the fortifications, into the welcoming warmth of the Meadhall. I had, during my trip up the eastern side of Solstheim, seen no trace of Marisa and I began to fear the worst for the missionary. She’s either lost in some ice-cavern somewhere between here and Fort Frostmoth or she’d become lunch for some of the local fauna. Either way, finding her is going to be quite a task.

Thormoor was standing by the fire, quaffing mead and, wiping dark beard, he came over to speak with me. “I’ll tell ye of Gyldenhul Barrow,” he said. “Its’ the location of a lost pirate treasure and I’m gifting it to you. Here is the key, let me show you where it is on your map…”

I was, let us say, a little sceptical about this treasure; after all, I’d already found the pirate treasure that Captain Carius had mentioned. The chances of a second pirate treasure on the island seemed to be fairly remote, especially given the vast riches that Thormoor had described. This scepticism continued right up to the moment I unlocked the door to Gyldenhul Barrow and stepped inside.

The treasure I took from that crypt were exceptional: in addition to the piles of glittering, scintillating precious stones I also found a Glass sword with a fire-enchantment on it; a heavily gold-inlaid Ebony sword; a Glass helm; and a mound of coin. Coinage of the realm, vast heaps of it, covering almost every surface. I have some fairly wild dreams, but the nine thousand Septims were riches that almost exceeded them. Staggering under the weight, I returned to the Skaal village.

I packed up the things I wished to take back to Vvardenfell with me, Gods above and below, I hadn’t realised I’d gathered so much whilst I was here.

After paying my final respects to Korst Wind-Eye (and paying a quick visit to Ingmar ~ who gave me a powerfully enchanted belt in return for my assistance yestere) I used my last Divine Intervention scroll to move myself down to Frostmoth. There I spoke to Severia Gratius about the late Bosmer who’d fancied himself as ‘Uncle Sweetshare’ and gave her the Colovian fur-helm. I was well rewarded for my actions ~ Severia gave me an enchanted short-sword and fifteen hundred Septims to add to my already bulging purse. She also told me that Carnius Magius, who has something to do with the East Empire Company, wanted to see me. He maintains an office above the Imperial Shrine.

Which suited me fine, I had to speak to Jeleen and tell him that I’d found no trace of Marisa since she’d left Thirsk several days ago. He was disappointed that I was unwilling to expend more time looking for her but I did tell him that I’d asked both the people at Thirsk and the Skaal to keep an eye open for her.

Which left Carnius Magius. The representative of the EEC smiled at me as I entered his office and said, “I understand you have some sort of comprehension of those savages up north. That could be quite beneficial to the EEC so I’ve decided to offer you a position with us.”

“Which is a shame,” I replied, having taken an immediate disliking to Magius. “Since I have no interest in working for the EEC. And I’d advise you to keep a civil tongue in your mouth when you speak of the Skaal ~ they’re liable to remove it if they hear you call them savages.”

“Huh,” he said with an expressive shrug. “Why should I care what some Dark Elf thinks a bunch of savages will do? After all, how would they hear what I said about them?”

“Some of us,” I commented as I swung open the office door, “have a special understanding of the Skaal and might, inadvertently, mention what you said.” Leaving him spluttering ~ I’m sure that nobody had ever dared speak to the fat, oily, Imperial slug like that in his entire life ~ I slammed the door and made my way down to the docks. I had one last task I wanted to perform and, for that, I needed to book passage back to Khuul.

As instructed, the ship’s Captain woke me when we were roughly halfway between Fort Frostmoth and Khuul. With wide, uncomprehending eyes, he watched as I tipped a tiny silver ring over the side and watched as it sank into the murky oceanic depths. Having disposed of Hircine’s Ring, I returned to my cabin and whiled away the rest of the voyage. Once back in Khuul, I wasted little time in translocating to Tel Vahl and dumping my pack ~ leaving the contents for Raissu Asserbas to sort out.

Here ends this chapter of the Tale of Sudhendra Vahl

This post has been edited by OverrideB1: Aug 9 2005, 04:47 PM