Rashelle At Solstheim, bloodmoon fanfic Options

[blockhead]

This story contains spoilers for the Bloodmoon Expansion for Morrowind. As it has been some time since that was released I expect that this is no longer concern but I thought I would mention it here anyway.


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Rashelle At Solstheim

by blockhead aka pcc



Chapter 1. Arrival



I think I was the only one on board the boat who was not grumbling. Apparently the Solstheim posting was viewed as a punishment or an exile by the soldiers of the Imperial Legion.

This ship had been chartered by the Legion to send a group of soldiers to Fort Frostmoth in Solstheim. I was the only civilian passenger.

I felt a sense of anticipation, there was something in the air.

For one thing, I was cool, nicely cool. The air had been slowly lowering in temperature over the course of the voyage. It was now cooler than the coolest cave I had ever been in.

For another, I was going to a strange new land. I love to explore. I had heard of Solstheim and its "snow". I had been told what snow was but I frankly felt it too incredible to believe. It sounded more like a crazed skooma dream ... but I wanted to see it.

Over the past half hour or so, the sky had been becoming more overcast. It was now a solid-looking gray.

The air became cooler still, and I felt like I had never felt before. Around me the men were beginning to shiver and complain and don fur cloaks. I had been forewarned so I had a fur from a creature called a "bear" in my pack, but I had no urge to wear it. I was fine ... feeling better than ever.

The air got cooler still, cooler than I ever thought it could get. A gentle cold breeze blew against my face and on my bare arms and it was ... wonderful.

"Brrr, woman, you must have some Nord in you! They like the cold."

This was logical. My tolerance ... no ... my *affinity* for cold made me suspect that my father had been a Nord. Since I was an orphan, I would never know.

I was pacing on the deck, sometimes stopping to stare off towards the horizon, when it happened.

"It" was millions of tiny white particles that floated gently down from the sky. They were the purest white imaginable. They could not be ashes.

I caught some in my hand. they faded away. I caught some more. they ... melted?

"Is ... is this snow?"

"Well of course, haven't you seen snow before?" replied one of the men.

"No."

"Oh. Sera, I am sorry."

"It's OK."

I smiled. So *this* was snow. I was enchanted.

"You won't like it so much when you have to dig out from it in the morning, or when you have to walk through it."

"You've been here before?"

"Yes, I'm returning from a month-long furlough. I've been stationed at Fort Frostmoth for almost a year now."

He fell into a discourse on the problems and dangers of Solstheim. From horkers to snow bears to spriggans to the semi-intelligent rieklings, there were many new dangers and problems for the hapless adventurer.

I sensed he was going to segue into the "protect the helpless female" monolog so I discreetly adjusted the sheath of the claymore that I wore on my back. It clanked against my ebony cuirass. The Breton spell-sword in the armor can take care of herself, sera.

"Erm, yes, well keep your wits about you and don't slip on the ice and you should be OK."

Ahead, a gray and white mass resolved itself: land.

The ship approached and I could make out a stone dock. The ground behind it, covered with short green grass of a sort not found in Vvardenfell, rose up until it met, further back, the mass of a stone Imperial fort.

To either side were ... trees, but of a sort I had never seen before. These must be the "pines" and "fir trees" that I had heard existed in colder climates.

The men were busy calling the role or standing in formation or some other such military thing so I was was the first one off the ship.

"Brrrr, so ... cold." said an Argonian dock worker. I pondered the wisdom of a creature used to the warm swamps working here in Solstheim.

I looked at the fort, then I glanced to the west. The snow covered wilderness beckoned, a lure I could not resist. I ran west: I could explore the fort some other time.

It was not long before a creature attacked me: some things never change, no matter where you go. I identified this one as a wolf. I knew of these from before. They were almost everywhere in the empire but Vvardenfell. It took almost no time to dispatch it.

It wasn't too much longer before I was attacked again, this time by a large bulky brown creature. It walked on four legs but stood up to attack. It growled, had wicked claws and was larger that I was. Still, Chrysamere was up to the task and in short time I had slain it.

There was something familiar about this creature. Then I realized why: its thick fur reminded me of the fur I had in my pack. This brown creature was therefore a "bear".

I continued along, wandering and exploring. I was heading north as well as west now. I reached an area where the ground was covered with snow. The snow in the air began to get thicker: there was more of it. The wind began to pick up, driving the snow into an intense mass of bright white opacity.

I was having trouble seeing. This was what they meant by "snow blind", a situation where daylight and whiteness were as effective as Stygian darkness at blinding one. The blizzard raged on and I stumbled in snow that was already over a foot high, with drifts almost as high as I was. I loved it!

At some point I crossed a small river that was covered with ice. I could walk on this ice, though I fell twice before I got the hang of it. I was amazed: the only ice I had ever seen before this was the stuff created by frost spells. Here was natural ice, strong enough to hold my weight.

Eventually, in a region with far less foliage, I reached the ocean. I was now somewhere on the west coast of Solstheim.

Most of the coastline of Solstheim is littered with impressive standing stones. They are huge and carved and placed, via means unknown, by ancient Nords. This was my first sight of them.

On a rock outcrop, I saw silhouetted the shape of a man. He stood and looked outward, towards the sea. Since the blizzard continued to blow, I found this behavior unusual. I carefully ascended the outcrop, which was slippery with spray and snow.

Now I could see the man clearly. he was a Nord clad all in a dark, almost black, armor that appeared to be made of wolf skins.

He turned to me, unconcerned at a stranger with a big sword and said "The sea, never has there been a maiden so beautiful or so unforgiving."

I raised an eyebrow.

"I am Thormoor Gray-Wave and I have been cursed. Six months ago I was at the rudder of the ship, not far from here. I fell asleep and we crashed against some rocks. Almost all on board were killed.

"A seer who survived the wreck cursed me with eternal wakefulness as punishment. I have not been able to sleep since that day, not a wink, not even a cat nap. I have tried potions, spells, and other things. Nothing worked."

The wind and the waves crashing on the shore were the only sounds.

"If only I could get the seer, Geilir the Mumbling, to rescind this curse."

"Maybe I could help?" I asked.

"Aye, lass, that would be a great thing if you could do it. I've suffered so. Maybe you could talk to him and convince him."

I nodded.

"His cave lies in that direction. It is not terribly far. The entrance is a low snow-covered mound."

He pointed.

"Right. I'm on it."

The blizzard began to taper off into a light snowfall as I traveled. On the way I was attacked by two Nord women. At first I was overconfident, as they were armed only with daggers. When the first dagger bit into my arm I realized that I had underestimated matters. The frost enchantment hurt, even with my affinity to cold, and the blade itself was more damaging than it looked. I also realized that these women were skilled with short blades.

Chrysamere chopped into the first one. She screamed and was down, although not yet dead. I kicked her while swinging my sword at the second one. She dodged but the blade still cut into her.

She came at me and I brushed the dagger aside with Chrysamere.

"Why are you attacking me?" I shouted.

"You will die where you stand!" she said as she raised her dagger and rushed at me.

I ran her through.

The first one must have quaffed a potion because she was up and on the attack again. I kicked her back while I pulled my blade from the second one.

I parried and my swing forced her back.

She came at me again and again. I simply parried and blocked. Maybe she'd calm down and stop.

She didn't.

I finally kicked her hand: her dagger went arcing though the air, quite a ways. She ran for the corpse of her compatriot, obviously intending to employ her dagger.

My booted foot smashed down on the weapon.

She stopped and glared at me.

"Why?" I asked. "Who are you?"

She aimed a kick. I dodged. Since I had to move my feet to do it, she dove for the dagger and snatched it up. She was on the attack again. I guess she just was not going to talk.

I dispatched her. It bothered me, not knowing why these two had wanted to kill me. I didn't think they were bandits.

I healed my arm with a spell and then examined the corpses: they both were wearing fur shirts that were very similar in appearance, as if they were some sort of uniform. Boots and brown pants completed the ensemble. I inspected one of the nasty cold-enchanted daggers. It was a curious construction in that the hilt had no cross-piece and that the blade was not much longer than the hilt. For its size it was rather effective. I stowed one in my pack.

I continued on my way and soon found a snow covered cave. I sheathed my sword and carefully entered.

The inside of cave looked as if it were entirely made from ice. I was astounded. I touched the wall: it was pleasingly cold. It *was* ice. Perhaps Solstheim was so cold that there were layers of ice in the ground as if it were merely another form of rock? Fascinating!

I progressed along the tunnel of ice. It went downhill until it opened into a cave that had some furniture, a few torches stuck into the floor, and one occupant.

He was a Nord man, with long, light brown, hair. He studied me warily. This was fair, as I had just barged into his home uninvited.

"Excuse me. I am Rashelle. Are you Geilir The Mumbling?"

He chuckled.

"I haven't mumbled since back in school as a lad, yet I have a name for life."

I grinned.

"I am sorry. I come here on behalf of a man who has not been able to sleep for six months."

He frowned and said; "He caused the deaths of everyone on board but myself and my friend."

"He said it was an accident."

"Aye, lass, it was: the fool fell asleep at the helm. We struck rocks and the ship sunk like a stone. I dragged him to the shore, although I almost decided not to. I let him live but I put a curse on him: he will never sleep again."

I remained silent. Sometimes I say more by not saying a thing. I stared.

"They died because of him."

I was mute.

"Look lass, he did a terrible thing."

Silence was my only reply.

"Of course, we all make mistakes," he said, "It's just ... that one was such a big mistake."

I silently reflected on mistakes that I had made in the past.

"How about this, lass? If you can find my friend for me, I'll lift the curse on Thormoor Gray-Wave."

"Your friend?"

"Oddfrid White-Lip. She is my only friend these days. Some draugr attacked us here today and they took her away. My powers as a seer are, sporadic: they do not work on demand, so I did not see the attack ahead of time."

I nodded.

"My visions indicate that the draugr took her to Kolbjorn Barrow. It is to the far south east of here, not far from the Imperial fort. It's a little bit west of the fort, actually"

He must mean Frostmoth.

"What are draugr?"

"They are undead: they are the mummified corpses of Nords that have become animated. They are a black in color, with eyes that glow red: they are hard to see so they can catch you by surprise. They seem to lurk in every barrow in Solstheim. They attack and they kill: they feed upon the living. Beware of them."

I nodded and departed.

I made a long journey back to the fort. I fought many creatures along the way, including one of a type that I had been warned about, a spriggan.

The creature was of a strange appearance. It resembled some weird cross between a woman and ... a tree. Its face was human but the eyes were devoid of any humanity, staring blankly as it used its large claws to slash at me.

Taking a hint from the resemblance to trees, I hit the spriggan with a fireball. It screamed and slashed at me again. While the spell did some damage, it was not enough to kill the creature. I chopped with Chrysamere. The sword connected but the spriggan was tough ... with flesh almost like wood in hardness.

Nothing but to chop and duck and chop some more. Blood like red sap flowed from its wounds. Eventually I killed it.

I paused to take a breather. This creature had been ... annoying.

One does not expect a just-killed creature to return to full health and attack again, yet that is just what the fetcher did. Suddenly there was a flash of light and I was staggering back from a slash of the creature's claws, cursing and dodging a second slash.

I slammed down a potion and fought. I killed it a second time.

It rose from the dead again ... larger this time. I was beginning to come close to panic. Could this thing ever be killed for good?

Finally, I killed it for a third time. This time it stayed dead. I like many things about Solstheim, but spriggans are not one of them.

Upon sighting the Fort, I turned and strode west.

I found a barrow, a Nord tomb. The entrance was a pile of roughly-hewn dark stone blocks with an ornate door. I slowly puzzled through the ancient Nordic runes on the door, whose shape and meaning were unlike modern Tamrielic, and determined that this was the Stormpfund barrow.

This was not the one I was looking for but I entered anyway. The black stone made the interior of the barrow even darker than that of a Vvardenfell tomb.

I met my first draugr and also an animated half rotted undead wolf. Later I found out that these are called "bone wolves".

I fought them.

Afterwards, I found a nice-looking Nordic silver claymore. As I didn't want to lug it all around the island, I left it there. I found some gold and some gems: those I took.

In the back of the barrow was something ... interesting. It looked like ice, but it was harder than ice ... much harder. I could not crack it with Chrysamere. I peered through its translucency and saw a skeleton inside. This strange ice thing was some sort of coffin.

I exited the barrow and continued on my way. The ground sloped up and I ascended a hill. The hill was topped by a circle of standing stones. I saw nothing of interest in the circle so I continued walking west, down the other side of the hill.

I found another barrow. The runes on the door indicated that I had found the Kolbjorn Barrow. There were no people here, save for the undead. I fought through these as I had the ones in the previous barrow.

I did not find the woman. As those draugr had only carried Oddfrid White-Lip off that day, I should have seen her or her recently-killed corpse. Maybe he had envisioned the wrong tomb?

On a rock in the center of the barrow lay a skull. Geilir couldn't have meant that this was his friend, could he?

The skull had no dust on it so it could not have been there for more than a few days. I put it in my pack.

My return to Geilir's cave was uneventful, save that the snow had stopped and the sun was shining brightly. The glare of the sun off the snow took some getting used to, but it was all still very beautiful.

"Rashelle, did you find her?"

"It depends ... "

I took the skull from my pack and said, "Is this her?"

His face lit up and he exclaimed, "Oddfrid, my friend!"

He took the skull from my hands. He looked so happy that I could not remain angry for having been sent on such a pointless quest.

"Oh thank you for rescuing her!"

He then spoke to the skull. "Oh Oddfrid, it's so good to be with you again!"

I remained silent.

"Oddfrid sees things," he said to me. "Sometimes she tells me them. She is grateful to you and will tell you of your future."

I nodded. I didn't really know what to think, yet alone what to say.

Geilir held the skull in both hands. He twitched and his eyes rolled up. In a different voice he began to speak.

"The time for the hunt is near. You are both hunter and hunted."

I didn't think he was faking it. It was rather creepy.

Geilir's trembled for a few seconds and then blinked.

"It always gives me the shakes to do that," he said in his normal voice.

I nodded.

"Here Rashelle, she wishes to communicate with you directly."

I raised an eyebrow and took a step back.

"She says it's, ummm, 'girl talk.'"

"Could you put the skull on the ground? I don't want to drop it."

He did so. I crouched down, took a deep breath to prepare myself, and put two hands on the skull, as he had done before.

When I had touched the skull before, to put it in my pack and again to hand it over, there had been no sense of any magic or anything else about it. This time it was different: there was a mental contact and the skull was talking to me, directly in my mind without sound! That Nord was not so crazy after all.

"Rashelle, Thank you for rescuing me and bringing me back to my Geilir. I know this is very strange for you but I really do appreciate it."

"You are welcome ... and yes this is rather unusual."

"As for a more personal glimpse into your far distant future, Rashelle ... there will be true love. Someone ... someone tall ..."

"... dark and handsome?" I interrupted. That was the oldest fortune-teller line in the book. This had gone from strange to ludicrous.

"No ... tall and light ... yes, lightness. They wait for you, though they do not realize it yet. That is all I can say."

I sensed that the conversation was over. I removed my hands from the skull and stood up.

"Can you please lift the curse now?"

"Of course, lass."

"Thank you."

I departed and returned to the coast. I found the outcrop but I did not see Thormoor Gray-Wave standing there. Had he disappeared? Had he fallen off the rock in a sudden onset of sleep?

I scurried up the big rock as fast as I could and discovered that he was still there, but not standing. He was lying there so peacefully, a smile on his tired-looking face. His chest slowly rose and fell as he breathed. The curse had indeed been lifted, perhaps instantaneously and without warning.

I was concerned that he would fall off of the outcrop in his sleep. I was also worried that there might be a creature in Solstheim capable of climbing and then attacking him. I tried to shake him awake but he remained in a deep slumber.

It was nearing the end of the day. For the sake of his safety, I decided to remain there. I ate some food from my pack and watched the sun set.






This post has been edited by blockhead: Jun 11 2007, 11:24 PM

[blockhead]

Chapter 14. Hurt



Korst Wind-Eye led me into the Great Hall. Once inside, he led me to Tharsten Heart-Fang.

"Mighty chieftain; this outlander has completed the Rituals for all six Stones, and with the blessing of the All-Maker!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Most unexpected."

I waited.

"Rashelle the Outlander, I am very impressed. Truly you are not like the other outlanders."

I remained silent.

"You must now prove your wisdom."

Here it comes.

"I want you to investigate a crime."

Just so long as it does not involve pillows.

"Engar Ice-Mane has been accused of stealing wolf furs from Rigmor Halfhand. We Skaal live by hunting. This is a serious crime. If guilty, Engar will be either exiled or sacrificed to the wolves."

"Yuck!" As usual, I had said what was on my mind without thinking. It did not go over well.

"Outlander! The wolves are sacred to us. We hunt them for furs but we honor them. Wolves are one of the most blessed of the All-Maker's creations. They are fast and agile, and they are careful and clever hunters. This is an honorable death!"

"I am sorry. I will try to understand your ways better."

"Anyway, Engar denies the charges. He has already told me that if he is declared guilty, he chooses the wolves over the exile."

I did not understand why he would choose so, but I nodded.

"Learn what you can, gather the information, and make a wise judgment. The people of the Skaal will now consent to talk to you."

Again, I nodded.

Once outside, Korst Wind-Eye pointed to the Ice-Mane hut and to where Rigmor Halfhand lived. He then said "I must leave you now. I must not influence your judgment."

"I understand."

He walked away, most likely to return to his own hut.

Deciding to speak to the accuser first, I went to the hut of Rigmor Halfhand and knocked on the door. It was answered by a Nord man in furs. His beard did not match the color of his blond hair: most odd.

"I have been sent by the chieftain to investigate the theft of the furs. May I speak to you?"

"Come in, lass."

The most remarkable thing I noticed upon entering his hut were the shelves, packed with books. Where had he gotten so many books out here in Solstheim?

He saw the direction of my gaze and said; "I trade with outlanders. I go to Thirsk, sometimes to the fort, and trade furs for books."

"Most impressive," I said. I wondered if my bear fur, which I had ended up using for sleeping rather than wearing, came from this man?

"I was told that Engar Ice-Mane stole some of your wolf furs?"

"Yes, he did. He has always been a valuable member of the Skaal ... but, he is not a caring man. He leaves his lovely wife for weeks at a time while on the hunt. He probably stole my furs because he wasn't able to provide enough for his family. Such a sad story.

"I can't understand why he would do such a thing. We of the Skaal give to each according to need. If Ice-Mane had asked for more furs, they would have been provided. But, instead, he stole them from my home. It is difficult to explain. I feel sorry for his lovely wife, who will be left all alone."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Risi Ice-Main is a beautiful woman, deserving of better than her husband. If I were her mate, she would lead a much better life."

A wariness came over me, a suspicion.

I asked him a few more questions and almost did not pay attention to the answers. I bid him good day and departed.

I went to the Ice-Mane hut.

Risi Ice-Main was dressed in furs like many of the Skaal, but was barefoot. Even at home she wore a Nordic silver mace. She had shoulder length brown hair.

"I have been asked by the chieftain to investigate a crime that your husband has been accused of."

"An outlander? Well, I guess you are certainly going to be impartial!"

I smiled.

"Engar is a man of honor, so he would not steal any furs. We want for nothing, so he has not even a need to steal! I cannot imagine what would drive Rigmor to make such an accusation. Perhaps he is jealous of my husband, and these charges are meant to disgrace him."

"Muthsera ... why would he be jealous?"

"Rigmor is a man of learning. He may even have more books than the shaman. He is intelligent, but is not well liked by most of us. He had been a good friend to me until this accusation. We had spent ... some time together."

Her face hardened.

"But now he has decided to ruin my family."

"The chieftain told me that your husband has chosen to be sacrificed to the wolves rather than be exiled."

"This is true. The Spirit must live on. I understand the concept. Still, I cannot bear the thought of my husband being eaten by the Caenlorn. It is too much!"

"Caenlorn?"

"The Caenlorn are sacred wolves, blessed by our shaman. They are powerful with the Spirit, and by consuming the flesh of the warrior, that Spirit lives on in another life. It is considered an honorable way to die."

I nodded.

"Exile is a horrible fate, but I would rather see my husband exiled than dead. He does not see it that way, though."

"Is exile so bad?" I asked.

"To be exiled is to live without the Skaal family. None of the Skaal will speak to an exile. They will not aid him, even if encountered far from the Skaal village. Such a man no longer exists. One who has been exiled wanders aimlessly through this life without the Spirit to guide them. It is said that they are outside the Oneness of the land."

I'd managed to do so for my entire life, but I did not voice this thought. I still did not understand why exile from the Skaal was so awful. I only knew that the Skaal were raised to believe that it was so.

"Where is your husband?"

"Outside. Though accused of this crime, he is allowed to roam freely, save that if he leaves the village, he cannot come back."

It made sense, if one accepted the premise that exile was bad.

She described him. I thanked her and went outside.

I soon found a man that matched her description. He was wearing wolf armor, almost all black. There was a longsword at his side. From seeing only the grip and hilt, I guessed it to be a Nordic silver blade. Such blades are a form of silver that has been somehow hardened. While not approaching the toughness of Ebony, they are still effective blades.

His hair was long and a dark brown in color. On his face were some of those blue markings that Nords sometimes paint. Originally they were worn only into battle but it seems that over time it has become another form of fashion, worn all of the time. Or perhaps maybe he wore the paint as a reaction to his current situation.

"Excuse me, are you Engar Ice-Mane?"

"Yes lass, I am he."

"I have been sent to investigate the theft of Rigmor's furs."

"I know what I am accused of," said Engar, "and I know that it is a lie! I have no need for the furs of Rigmor Halfhand. I am a Skaal warrior. My honor and the honor of the Skaal are my life. But I will bear this injustice as any warrior should ... with dignity."

Spoken like a member of House Redoran ... my House. My gut feeling was that this man was actually innocent. I was sure that the chieftain would need more than that before accepting any judgment.

"I understand that you have already chosen to be sacrificed to the wolves."

"If a warrior must be executed, it is the preferred way to die. The wolves will cycle the Spirit, that I may live again in a different form. However, I do not deserve this."

I bid him good day and walked aimlessly around the village. I spoke to a few randomly chosen people. As the chieftain had said, they were now all willing to talk to me: word had gotten around quickly.

All who I spoke to said that Engar was a valiant warrior, not a thief. Many found it impossible to imagine that he would be capable of such a crime. Some were of the opinion that Rigmor had been spending too much time at the Ice-Mane's hut whenever Engar was away. This last added to my growing suspicion.

Though the Korst Wind-Eye had wanted to avoid speaking to me of this matter, I needed his insight. He was a perceptive man and he might have noticed something that the others had missed. I knocked on his door.

"Lass," he said as he opened the door, "I do not want to influence your judgment."

"Fine. Don't. Just answer my questions."

He smiled. "OK then."

"Tell me of Rigmor."

"Rigmor has never been a warrior, but he has distinguished himself many times as a clever, clever man. He is a bit rash, and I fear his sharp wit and quick temper may have prevented him from ever finding a mate among the Skaal. Still, he has been a valuable member of the community. Over time, if he gains wisdom, he could become a shaman."

"And Engar?"

"Lass, I should not speak, but I feel that he did not do this. He is an honorable man. He would have asked for the wolf furs had he needed them. I feel bad for his wife, Risi. She will be heart-broken if he is found to be guilty. You should speak to her. She knows him well."

"I already have."

I thanked him and departed. I needed evidence. I had a conclusion but no solid way of making a final judgment. A man's life was in my hands: I did not want to be mistaken.

I returned to the Ice-Mane hut and talked to Risi again. I walked around the hut as I talked. I needed something, some bit of a clue; something to tell me what was really going on. It was just too bad that there was no way to get her to leave the hut. I had to keep up my end of the conversation so that she did not realize that I was searching.

Something was peeking out from under the pillow on the bed. Not exactly the most clever of hiding places, really. Quick as thought, I snatched it. It was a piece of paper, with writing on it.

Risi started to say something and I put my hand out and said "Silence!"

Her hand touched the handle of her mace. My eyes warned her not to use it.

I read the note aloud.

"Dearest Risi. Why will you not see me? You know how I feel, and I know you feel the same about me. Please, simply consent to speak to me. Just a word, a moment with you, would ease my soul. If I cannot be with you, I will have to resort to something drastic.

"Please, consider your feelings. Your husband is a lout, away for weeks at a time, with no consideration for your needs. I have always been there for you, and I always will be. We should be together, dear Risi."

Risi was silent. The note was not signed.

"This is from Rigmor, isn't it?"

She nodded.

"W-we had an affair," she stammered. "His words can be like honey. I broke it off. He could not accept that. It may be the reason he has brought these accusations against my husband."

"You think?"

Her face reddened.

I left.

My next stop was Rigmor's hut.

"You had an affair with Risi," I said in my usual unsubtle fashion.

"Nonsense."

"There is a note that you wrote to her. I have read it."

He swore and then said: "I only wanted the woman! Why did that fool have to choose the wolves? He could have simply left, and she and I could have been together forever!"

I waited.

"It has all gone wrong."

I remained silent. He sighed.

"You know my crime, and I know you must tell Heart-Fang. Let us go to him now, and I will accept my fate."

"After you."

We walked to the great hall. Rigmor said nothing. I said nothing. He did not try to escape.

We entered the Great Hall and approached Heart-Fang.

Rigmor spoke: "Chieftain: I falsely accused Engar Ice-Main of the theft. He is innocent."

The chieftain remained silent.

"I-I did it because I wanted Risi. I had hoped to have Engar exiled so I could be with her."

"Swine."

He looked down at the floor.

The chieftain turned to me and said; "Did you force him to say this?"

Wordlessly, I took the note from my pack and handed it to him.

He read it, and said, "Rigmor, this is your handwriting. You are guilty."

Rigmor nodded.

"Rashelle," said the chieftain, "you have successfully discovered the truth. An innocent man has been saved and the real criminal has been revealed."

I said nothing.

"This cannot go unpunished. You must choose the sentence for Rigmor, exile or the wolves?"

"Engar got to choose. Rigmor does not get to?"

"No Rashelle, he does not! You will choose!"

Oh.

I could ask for time to consult with members of the Skaal, but I already knew what the consensus would be: the Skaal all believed that being eaten by wolves was the lesser punishment.

Rigmor's eyes met mine. At times like this I wished that I could read minds ... but I think I knew what he wanted.

"Rigmor is to die an honorable warrior's death. He is to be sacrificed to the Caenlorn."

"So be it," said the chieftain. "It is better than he deserves."

I said nothing.

"You must witness the sentence being carried out, Rashelle. If you would judge us, you must also see the results of your judgment."

Though I did not like this, there was a grim sort of logic to it. I nodded.

The chieftain led us outside and then to an empty circular paddock. Korst Wind-Eye was already there: he was standing by the gate, which was open. His Seer ability had brought him here early, I guessed.

Rigmor entered the paddock. A crowd was forming.

"My fellow Skaal, the outlander Rashelle has determined that Engar Ice-Main is innocent."

There was a cheer.

"She has also determined that the accusation was falsely made by Rigmor Halfhand for his own purposes."

There was a grumbling.

"Rigmor is to be sacrificed to the wolves."

Korst closed the gate.

The chieftain nodded to the shaman. Korst cast a spell and three wolves appeared in the pen. Rigmor held his ground bravely. He screamed in pain as they tore into his flesh. It hurt to watch. I was sickened, but I held to my promise and I did not look away. They killed him and they fed on him. The conjured wolves then disappeared.

"Justice has been carried out. The will of the All-Maker has been done," proclaimed the chieftain.

To me, he said: "Rashelle, I will have another test for you at a later time."

I had to leave: I had to get out of there. I wanted to run.

"Rashelle, I would invite you to dinner at the Great Hall, but I sense that you would rather leave. This is fine. Come back when you are ready."

I fled. I couldn't take it any more.

I tend to like Nords, usually. I generally get along with them rather well, but ... at times ... they have moments of utter savagery ... flashes of bizarre and entirely strange thought processes. I knew what Rigmor had wanted this death, but still I was horrified.

South across the ice and snow I ran. Ironically, a pack of wolves set upon me. I fought them with fire and with my claymore and then continued to run.

After a few more minutes I stopped. I had run in almost a state of panic from the Skaal village. There been no thought in my mind but to simply get away. Now I was away. I took a few breaths and my rationality returned to me. My head was clearer: it was time for me to decide what to do next.

The sky was beginning to darken, twilight was approaching. I could Recall to Raven Rock: just one cast and I would be there, amongst civilized people, but I hesitated. I could also use an Intervention spell to instantly teleport to the fort, but I had no business there, no new progress to report.

I then realized why I had been running due south the entire time: unconsciously I had been heading for Thirsk. I wanted to be with friendly people. I did not want to be amongst people who thought it was great to be eaten alive by wolves. I needed comfort. Perhaps I would even try mead: I needed a drink ... or something.

The spot where I was standing was familiar: I had probably traveled this way at least once on the way from Thirsk to the Skaal village. Also familiar was the skull. It was resting in the snow, where I had placed it the the other day ... during my first journey to the Skaal village. I felt sad for the skull. Whoever they had been in life, they had intended that their bones would remain in that barrow: they had certianly not expected that the Imperials would come in and disturb the tomb. I was sure that they would not have wanted some Breton to leave their skull on the ground. I brushed the snow off the skull and placed it in my pack: I would find a better resting place for it.

At a slower pace, I continued my way south, towards Thirsk.

When I reached sight of the mead hall, I could see that there were people outside. Some held torches. Some were not standing. In the light of the torches, I could see blood on the snow. Something bad had happened. I started running.

Svenja was by the entrance to the mead hall. She was not standing.

"Svenja!" I shouted. Had she been killed?

I reached her and crouched next to her. I poured healing magic into her. She was curled up almost in a ball. She was crying and from the look of her face, had been for some time.

I looked up at the people near me. They all looked uncertain as to what to do.

Svenja continued to weep. I had healed her with my spells but there was a hurt inside that I could not cure.

"What happened?" I demanded.

"We were attacked," said one of the men. "A great beast came from the lake. It was horrible. It killed half of us and it destroyed the inside of the hall. We tried to fight it but we were like insects to it. It threw Svenja like a rag-doll. It killed the chieftain and dragged his corpse off, back to the lake."

I sat down, next to her, on the ground. It was more comfortable.

"What of Svenja?"

"I do not know. We carried her out of the building with the other wounded and she's been like this ever since. She has never been this way before. She is among the toughest of us."

"I will go and slay this creature. What is it?"

"it's an Udyrfrykte. It is a savage ape-like creature with glowing green eyes. It is incredibly strong and fast."

With a surprising speed, Svenja uncurled herself and put put her arms around my waist. "DON'T GO." she screamed.

"Svenja, I have to kill this creature. It will only come again if I do not."

Her grip tightened and I was glad I was wearing a cuirass as I would have had trouble breathing, otherwise. "Please don't go, don't go! Don't leave meeee!"

She wailed louder than before. My friend hurt: I would not leave her.

"OK, Svenja. I will not go after the creature right now."

She continued to sob, though not as loudly.

"I need to heal the other wounded. Let go."

She did not.

"Some of your people are wounded. They might die. Let me heal them. I will be right back. I promise."

She shook her head and sobbed.

"I promise!"

She released her grip.

I attended to the wounded. using potions and spells depending on the severity of their injuries.

"Are you going to rebuild?" I asked one of the men.

"Aye lass, but Svenja is the one who would normally coordinate something like this."

"I see. She effectively ran the place, didn't she?"

"Yes."

"OK. Look: I'm appointing you in charge of taking care of everyone. You can't all live here, so those with homes elsewhere can maybe put up a Thirskian or whatever you all yourselves for the night. Then you get someone to gather firewood and keep a fire or two going for the people who will still be sleeping here, since they will have to sleep outside."

"Aye, less."

The chieftain was dead, and Svenja was not in any condition to lead ... so, for now, the people of Thirsk were following my orders.

"Hey," said a loud voice that I can only describe as ... buzzing. I turned to see an unexpected sight: a Breton man. Aside from Marisa and myself, he was the first non-Nord I had seen in Thirsk. Despite this, I took an instant dislike to him.

"Is she all right?" he continued in that overly loud voice. He pointed to Svenja.

Of course, everything is fine. Thirsk gets attacked every day. Svenja always cries. No, she's not all right, you clueless fetcher.

I actually suppressed my sarcastic remark and instead I simply gave him my Look. He scurried away. Stupid s'wit.

I returned to Svenja. "I am back. Sleep now: I'll be watching over you."

From my pack I took my sleeping fur and put it on her.

Eventually my friend's sobbing faded away and, curled up on the snow beside the entrance to Thirsk, she fell asleep. I remained awake and watched over her.

At some point during the night, she woke up and in a strange small voice said: "I gotta go."

I helped her up and led her away from the hall. I stood guard. She did not say anything else. When she was done, I led her back. I tried to lead her to one of the fires, where it was warmer, but she tugged on my hand and silently walked to her spot by the mead hall entrance. I tried to speak to her but she was mute. Her eyes stared into a distant infinity that was not of this world. The attack had shocked her badly. I hoped that this was not a permanent state. She curled up and went back to sleep again: maybe more sleep would help. I covered her with the fur again. The night was cold, even for me, but I endured it and stayed with her.

The rest of that long night passed without incident. Through it, I remained awake: I would catch up on my sleep some other time. I worried about what had happened to my friend. Would she ever recover her wits?

Dawn and dusk are the two times of Azura, so when the sky began to lighten, I silently prayed to Azura. I prayed for Svenja. Normally I am not a religious person, but Azura was real and I knew her.

Svenja's eyes opened.

"Good morning, sunshine," I said.

"Rashelle," she said in her normal voice, "thank you."

Svenja was back.

This post has been edited by blockhead: Jul 25 2007, 01:57 AM