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]

As to the "dead naked Nords", I assume we refer to the werewolf attack on Fort Frostmoth, from a few chapters ago? I imagined that a work detail would be dispatched to dig a hole far enough away from the fort, dump the unidentified bodies in, and bury them. Had this occurred in Vvardenfell, I suppose they would have been cremated: that seems to be the preferred Dunmer method of "burial".

Right. Next chapter:

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Chapter 16. Spriggans



I ran around through the snow in the vicinity of the colony, keeping mostly to the western area, but did not find Apronia or a werewolf. I found a snow bear. Of course, it attacked me. After dispatching the beast, I searched some more. Eventually, I realized that I would never find her. She was gone.

Defeated, and feeling bad because I had failed in my promise to protect her, I returned to Raven Rock. Falco and several other people were standing by the man's corpse. I explained to them what I had seen and we then pieced together the story.

Apronia had chatted with the man, whose name was Stenar Valeius, for some hours in the bar. They had gone outside for a walk, staying within the colony. This they had done despite the heavy snowfall. A werewolf had run into town, possibly from the west, but there was no way to know that for sure. Said werewolf had killed Stenar, wounded Apronia, ripped some or all of her clothing off, disarmed her and carried her away. None of us had seen the actual attack but we had all heard it.

There was nothing to be done, so I returned to my house for a few more hours of sleep.

When I awoke the next morning, I immediately left the colony: I wanted to search for Apronia again. I knew it was fruitless, as I had no trail to follow, but I stubbornly pressed on.

Southwest of Raven Rock, I found a Dwemer ruin. How much Dwemer activity had there been in Solstheim?

Curious as ever, I drew Chrysamere and entered.

Apronia was sitting in the Dwemer ruin, by the door. Her back was against the wall of the corridor. Her knees were drawn up against her chin and her arms were hugging her legs. She was naked.

"Apronia?" I whispered.

"R-Rashelle," she whispered. I was so glad that she was whispering. She had obviously entered the ruin and had wisely remained by the door. By keeping quiet, none of the Dwemer robots deeper in had noticed her. I hoped she would continue to remain quiet.

"Thank the gods you've found me," she continued to whisper, "I don't think I would have been able to make it to the colony on my own."

I agreed. She would have run into that snow bear that I had slain last night. I knelt beside her and could see that she had been wounded. Claws of some kind has slashed into her side. The wound did not look fatal and it had stopped bleeding, but was certainly nasty. I applied a healing spell and it disappeared.

"Thank you, Rashelle."

I cast a Cure Disease spell, just in case. What little I knew of Lycanthropy indicated that it could be contagious, like a disease.

"How did you get here?" I asked.

She started to weep, though quietly. For this much I was thankful.

"It w-was a werewolf. It attacked Stenar. It killed him and it then carried me off. I tried to resist. My struggles served only to rip my dress and anger it. It ripped away the remainder of my clothing. As soon as we were away from the colony. a spriggan attacked. The werewolf dropped me and fought the spriggan. I ran. I found this old Dwarven ruin and hid here. I figured that if I did not go in any further, I might go undetected. I'd hoped that the metal doors to this place would block my scent and that the snow would cover my trail."

This last took a presence of mind that I would not have expected from Apronia. It was logical and had probably saved her life.

"Was it the werewolf that gave you that injury?"

"Yes, when I resisted."

"Let's get you to the colony."

She wiped her eyes and nodded.

"As before, I'm going to carry you, OK?"

She nodded. I picked her up, holding her so that I had one arm under her legs and one under her shoulders.

I left the ruin and ran. Since I was largely retracing my steps, we did not encounter any creatures on the way back to Raven Rock.

I had expected her to kick up a fuss about being seen naked but she did not. Most likely she was too glad to be returning to the colony, and too glad to be alive, to be concerned about nudity. I spelled open the lock to her house: she did not have her key and I had not thought to search for it earlier.

She climbed into her bed. I drew the blanket over her. The poor girl had had a rough night. Sleep in safe place would do her good.

There was a knock on the door.

"Rashelle! It's me, Falco."

I went to the door and opened it.

"We found her house key in the snow."

He offered me a key and also Apronia's sword.

"Is she OK?"

"Now she is. She was wounded but I healed her. The werewolf met with a spriggan. They fought and Apronia used that opportunity to run away. She spent the night holed up in a Dwemer ruin southwest of here."

"Thank you, Rashelle."

I narrowed my gaze. He was about to tell me that we had another problem.

"After breakfast," I said before he could say another word, "in the bar, OK?"

"OK, Rashelle."

I closed the door and then locked it. I returned to Apronia. She had already fallen asleep. I placed the sheathed sword and her house key on the bedside table. To leave the now-locked house, I cast Recall. I then walked into the Raven Rock bar and ordered breakfast. Falco was already there, so I sat down next to him.

I noticed that he had a mug in his hand. It smelled strange, yet familiar: it made me think of Thirsk.

"What are you drinking?"

"Mead. We got a shipment of it. I've never tried it before and I was curious, so I'm having some. It's not great but it is not bad. Want a sip?"

"No thanks. I don't drink this early in the morning."

He took a sip and then spoke: "Rashelle, the next phase of expansion involves expanding Raven Rock to the east: we're going to build ten or so new houses."

I nodded.

"For some reason, there seem to be a lot of spriggans just east of the colony. Unel Lloran, who is in charge of the construction, refuses to go out there until they've been dealt with. The men and I have slain them but somehow, the next day, more show up. It's rather strange."

It was.

"I'd like you to ascertain what is drawing them and to deal with it."

I nodded. I was all for preserving nature, but that did not extend to the spriggans. Anything I did to get rid of them was a good thing.

"I'm on it."

"Thank you, Rashelle."

The man behind the bar signaled to me: my breakfast was ready. I saw that Unel was in the bar, so I carried my food over to his table.

"Unel, I am going to deal with your spriggan problem. Can you tell me about it?"

"Oh, good! Please sit."

I sat and tore into my breakfast as he related what had occurred.

"Those damn spriggans keep coming back. We kill them three times: the next day they are back. I'm not going out there, nor am I sending my men out there, until I know that they are gone for good."

"Fair enough. Do you have any ideas why spriggans are so attached to that area?"

"I'm not sure, but I have noticed a cluster of trees in that area. Since spriggans look like trees, I thought that maybe cutting those trees down would get rid of the fetchers."

I nodded. That made sense.

"The problem is, we can't cut those trees. They're unusually tough."

Strange. I munched and pondered. I would have to get rid of those trees in order to remove the spriggan menace. Since those trees could not be chopped down, they would have to be removed by some other means. Maybe I could attack them through their roots, but the thought of that much digging made me cringe.

Then I remembered the mine. Perhaps, by chance, the miners had already dug through to the roots from below. It was worth investigating.

"Unel. I've had an idea. I will investigate and get back to you, OK?"

"I'll be here."

In the mine tunnels, I wandered. There had been considerable expansion below the ground. For a time, I simply explored and updated my mental map.

I found and entered the buried barrow that had been mentioned by Falco days ago. I approached the stalhrim coffin. I ran a hand along its icy coolness and smiled.

From my pack I drew the strange axe given to me by Graring. The axe looked so fragile. I gently tapped the coffin. There was the faintest of ringing tones and many small hairline cracks appeared in stalhrim. Fascinating.

I tapped again, a little harder, and the ringing tone sounded again.

I paused and changed my grip on the axe. I wanted to break this stalhrim but I did not want to break the delicate-looking axe. Gingerly, yet with greater force, I again struck.

An icy ringing tone rang though the air, loudly. The stalhrim coffin shattered, scattering pieces of stalhrim on the floor around me.

I sank down to the floor and picked up one of the fragments. At last, I was holding a piece of stalhrim in my hands. The piece I held was the size of my fist. It was surprisingly heavy, much heavier than regular ice. It felt cool to the touch, like real ice. I pressed both hands against it yet it somehow remained cold. I pressed it against my cheek and enjoyed the coolness.

"Rashelle?"

Startled, I whirled around. Some of the miners were standing in the opening to the tomb. They looked at me strangely. I lowered the stalhrim from my face.

"We heard a strange ringing sound and came to investigate. Are you OK?"

"I, I ... broke the stalhrim."

I held the piece, which was still in my hand, up.

"Most impressive. That nasty stuff wouldn't break for anything."

It wasn't nasty, but I did not voice this thought. I placed the piece in my pack: it was getting crowded in there so I did not pick up a second piece.

"I'll be back later to gather the rest of the pieces," I said as I rose to a standing position.

"Understood, Rashelle. We're busy tunneling in another direction so there is no rush."

Good to know.

"By the way," I said, "have any of you encountered any tree roots during your digging?"

"We have ... and we could not dig through them nor cut them."

That sounded about right: it matched Unel's description of uncuttable trees.

"Could you point me that way?"

"Certainly, Rashelle."

I moment or two later and I was in a dead end tunnel, standing by a pool of water. From the ceiling descended roots. They were large and they reached down into the water. There was something about them I did not like, but I could not put a finger on it. I half expected them to writhe into motion and attack me, but they remained still.

I pondered my mental map, matching up surface features with my current underground location. After some thought, I realized that I was outside of the town, to the east. This corresponded to the described surface location of that particular cluster of trees.

A cast of a Recall spell returned me to the surface. I then walked to the east and was almost immediately set upon by two spriggans. I fought them, as usual, and pressed on. A third and fourth spriggan attacked me. it was as if they were guarding something. These I dispatched as I had the first two.

I reached a group of trees. They looked the same as any other trees ... yet I discerned a sense of ... evil. I hissed. I wanted very much to destroy these trees. Without thought, Chrysamere was out and I chopped. My sword rebounded from the trunk. My claymore lashed out again with equal lack of results. I stepped forward, leaned close and examined the trunk. I could see only the faintest of scratches on the bark. A sensation of menace radiated from the tree and I backed away.

I cast a fireball. It Reflected and I burned: somehow the tree had bounced my spell back at me. I quickly sucked down a healing potion.

While I could sense no obvious magic, it was clear that there was something unnatural about these trees.

Still, I mused as I backed away, a tree was a tree: I could not burn them nor chop them ... but I could poison them. The trees did not actually need to be removed: they only needed to be dead. From my alchemical knowledge, I knew that a paste formed from bittergreen petals would kill almost any tree. I would rub it on the roots and, within days, this evil grove would become a harmless mass of kindling.

Two more spriggans attacked me. I dispatched them and cast Almsivi Intervention. This spell teleported me to the nearest Dunmer temple ... which happened to be the one in Gnisis.

After taking a moment to adjust to the warmer temperature, I entered the temple. I found a priest who sold bittergreen petals, so I was soon able to cast Recall and return to Raven Rock.

I went down into the mine, then to the roots. I took my mortar and pestle from my pack and mashed some of the petals into a paste.

"Die, fetchers," I hissed as I applied it to one of the roots. I moved to another root and repeated the procedure.

I ran out of paste and made some more. I applied it to every root. I suppose it would have been easier to simply dump it in the water, but I did not want to kill all of the foliage in the area, just this particular cluster of trees.

Fortunately, bittergreen petals are not harmful to people. Several beneficial potions had petals amongst their ingredients.

I recalled to the surface. I entered the bar and, true to his word, Unel was still there.

"Unel, I found the roots for the trees that those spriggans seem to like. I've poisoned them. In a short time the trees will die. You will only have to kill the spriggans once more after that. You will then be able to resume construction."

"That is a great relief. Thank you, Rashelle."

I went outside and found Falco. When I reported the news to him, he handed me 20 coins. Each was a 100-septim piece. I raised an eyebrow.

"That was a major problem. You've solved it. Also, I have promoted you again. This also covers the difference in pay scale."

"Oh. Thank you."

"You deserve it."

From my pack I drew forth the chunk of stalhrim.

Falco's eyes widened.

"I met with Graring. I can extract stalhrim now. This is from the mine."

"Rashelle, that is terrific. What did Graring tell you?"

"He said something about forging it as if it were a metal. He did not go into further detail but I get the feeling that the three of them can make armor and weapons from it."

"Fascinating. This must be what Carnius is looking for."

"An Imperial woman came to Graring, looking for stalhrim. She referred to it as 'ice-nine'. She was going to torture them for the information, but I killed her. I suspect that she was working for Carnius."

"Good job, Rashelle. Take any stalhrim you find to them."

I nodded.

"By your leave, I will teleport out."

He nodded. I slipped on the Mazed Band and invoked its enchantment: I had it teleport me to Vivec.

In the temple library, I researched stalhrim. I was surprised to find mention of it in more than one book. This was a pleasant surprise, as I had expected it to be as obscure a subject as the Fryse Hags had been. Stalhrim was described as another form of ice. Water, ice and steam were considered different forms or 'phases' of the same substance. There was a theory that water had more than just those normal three phases. By application of heat or cold, pressure and magic, additional phases could be achieved. These phases had been assigned arbitrary numbers. Some had been achieved by Telvanni researchers but were unstable; exploding or melting or transforming to ordinary ice after a mere fraction of a second. Theory indicated that the ninth phase was the magical stable phase where water would be solid, as ice, but would not melt at high temperatures. This explained the Imperial woman's use of the term "ice-nine" when referring to stalhrim. "Ice-nine" and stalhrim were different terms for the same thing.

I bid leave of my ordinator friend and Recalled.

Now back at Raven Rock, I approached Falco.

"I have two requests to ask of you."

"Go ahead."

"Could you have the remaining stalhrim from the mine taken to my house, please?"

"Certainly."

I gave him my house key.

"How are you going to get back into your house if I have your key?"

I smiled. There was no need to discuss my lock picking skills so I said nothing.

He raised an eyebrow.

"I'll be able to get in."

"Err, OK," he said, "What was the other thing?"

"I have to leave for a time. I cannot stay in Raven Rock tonight. I know that we've got a werewolf problem here, but I need to find the source, the cause, of this problem. I must return to the Skaal."

"I agree," he replied, "It is the only real solution."

I was surprised. I had been concerned that the two attacks would cause Falco to want me to stay and guard Raven Rock that night.

"By your leave?"

He nodded.

I cast Divine Intervention and was teleported to the fort. I stopped in at the General Quarters and briefly spoke with Gaea and Severia. There had been no further werewolf attacks and Carius was still missing.

Through the north archway I departed from the fort. Remembering that the Fryse Hags tended to hunt people emerging from the fort, I was wary. A few bears, a berserker and a snow wolf later, a realization occurred to me: I had not seen any Fryse Hags in over a day.

I stopped and sat down on a log. Why had I not run into any of them? What had changed? A feeling of disquiet came over me. No ... maybe it was coincidence. I would run into a Hag in the next five minutes and all would be normal again. I shook my head, as if to shake the worry away, and resumed my northward travel.

Soon, I reached a familiar place: the Valbrandr barrow. I remembered the skull in my pack. This tomb seemed like a good place for it, so I entered. A draugr attacked me: this reminded me of the last time I had been here, with Ingmar. New undead had made their way into the tomb since then. After slaying the draugr, I went deeper into the tomb, fighting some bone wolves, skeletons and another draugr.

From my pack I took the skull. I found a spot in a corner that somehow seemed ... right. I placed the skull there.

"I hope this is a good place for you, skull. I'm sorry that your original burial place was disturbed."

It was silly and pointless to concern myself with an ordinary skull, but I felt better for having done so.

My northward trek resumed. I fought many attackers, including rieklings, spriggans and berserkers. When I arrived at Thirsk, I still had not encountered a single Hag.

The people there were glad to see me. Svenja took me inside to show me the progress that had been made. Work had gone well on the repair of the support pillars and I could see that the stairs to the upper level had already been replaced. I stayed only long enough to have a quick lunch.

I felt sad as I bid my leave: Thirsk had become a happier place for me and I wanted to linger there longer, but I had to continue on my way to the Skaal.

Northwards I trekked. There had been no snow so far that day: this disappointed me. A patrol of mounted rieklings saw me and attacked. I fought through them. I did not usually search the corpses of rieklings, but this time I had the urge to do so. I was surprised to find that two of the bodies had been carrying coins. Where would they go to spend them? I picked up one of the riekling blades and took a few test swings in the air with it. For them it was a long blade. For a person, it might make a decent short bladed weapon.

I left the riekling blade there. I had Chrysamere, my silver dagger, and also a Fryse Hag dagger in my pack: there was no need to carry additional clutter.

It was late in the afternoon when I reached the Skaal village. I was greeted warmly by several people: what a change since my first visit.

I stopped in to see Korst, the shaman.

"Ah, Rashelle: good to see you again. How have you been?"

"I am fine. Has anything unusual happened here?"

"Like what?"

"Like a werewolf attack."

"No, thank the All-Maker."

"I still hope that somehow the Skaal can help me ascertain the cause of that attack on the fort. Since then, there have been two werewolf attacks at Raven Rock."

He frowned. "This is bad. One wonders if they will attack here next."

"There was also an attack at Thirsk, but not by werewolves. Still, I wonder if it was somehow connected."

"What manner of creatures attacked them?"

"Just one creature: a big ugly man-eater called an 'Udyrfrykte'. That was a nasty business."

"You slew it?"

I nodded.

"Impressive. They are tough; and they are rare, they are."

"They?"

"You didn't think there was only one did you? If you fought a bear, would you think it was the only one? What of a wolf?"

I frowned.

"Rashelle, have you spoken to the chieftain since you've arrived?"

"No."

"Well," he said as he smiled, "I'm flattered that you came to see me first, but you should go speak to him. Until you have completed all of the Tests, you should always see him directly upon arrival at the village."

"Oh. I am sorry."

"No worries. He probably won't mind. He is a fair chieftain, a good man ... and has been for quite a while."

I sensed a loaded topic. I was silent and expressionless.

"He is older than he looks. Sometimes I ... no ... it is not proper that we speak of this."

I remained silent. I hoped that he would continue.

"Go. Go see him."

I left.