Jerric's Story, A Nord's Adventures in Cyrodiil Options

[Kane]

I giggled when the Leigionairre food her she ought to stay overnight.

That last bit was properly spooky! The tension while she evaded whatever stalked her was palpable!

[Burnt Sierra]

You know, you're really being quite cruel here! You're building the tension up to such an extent, that sections like this do nothing good for your poor readers nervous systems.

I had reached the brightly moonlit center of the stream when the spring peepers ceased their song. Then the insects went silent. My feet stopped involuntarily, causing me to slide sideways downstream.
As I lost my footing a night bird screeched on the far bank. I went to one knee, my startled shriek answering its cry.

The figure stood still and silent. Behind it at a distance, three smaller life forms moved up and down, rising swiftly to a height and then drifting back to the ground.

You've certainly managed to time these updates well, seems like it's turning into the perfect Halloween section. The way you're playing with shadows and colours here as well.

The mountain-clear water looked sickeningly greenish under its light.
The natural moonlight and my Starlight spell combined to cast confusing shadows
A Nord-sized purple glow flared into sight, standing under a tree at the bank's edge.

Very evocative. Now, I'm grabbing wine to settle my poor shredded nerves, and to fortify me for tomorrow.

[Grits]

Previously: Abiene and Toby traveled toward Hackdirt as night fell. They found themselves at the washed-out bridge, having missed both the shortcut and Dar-Ma's turnoff. Four humanoid figures frightened Abiene while she looked for a way across. She and Toby headed back to Fort Carmala at speed. No one followed.

Acadian: Thank you, Acadian! I'm always amazed at how beautiful Cyrodiil is at night. And at how noisy Grits world is at night in the spring.

treydog: Thank you, treydog! It has been interesting to shake Abiene's confidence and see how she handles it. I drafted this chapter in a past November, and I remember creeping myself out with a cold, dark window behind me at a write-in.

SubRosa: She's had one setback after another, but so far hasn't considered quitting. There will be some speculation over who/what she saw, but I'm sure she'll want to get to a friendly campfire first. Thank you, SubRosa!

Kane: She didn't want to hear it, but turns out he was right! Thank you, Kane!

Burnt Sierra: I was delighted when I realized that this chapter would hit over Halloween. We can all take a breath with this section, but pretty soon she'll be back in the woods. Keep that wine handy! Thank you, Burnt!

Everyone: Travel and surgery (it's minor, no worries) will keep me from posting next Tuesday, but I should get the next post up within the week.

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Chapter 21: Underneath, Part Nine

When Fort Carmala's outer gate guards came into view I gracelessly dismounted, my grip on the cantle barely preventing me from crumpling to the ground. I would check Toby for injuries and soothe my abused posterior as soon as I felt safe. Both guards stood in a way that made me want to cower behind them, but I was not on the right side of their shields yet.

"Hail the gate," I called, leading Toby toward their circle of torchlight. "I'm Abiene Metonne, healer from the Chapel of Stendarr in Chorrol."

"State your business," the one on the right said. Her voice told me she was a local. These two had replaced Corporals Guntien and Hertzog. If this outpost kept the same shifts as city guards and healing halls, it was past eleven bells of the evening watch.

For a moment I had to bite my tongue to keep from blurting out my fears. "I was traveling to Hackdirt," I began.

"That's back the way you came," said the second guard. "You're heading in the wrong direction."

'Thank you, Captain Obvious,' is not a reply one should give to an actual military person, nor indeed anyone who is not one's sibling, yet that was what sprang to mind. Instead I said, "Indeed, I was traveling toward Hackdirt when I saw something in the woods. Four somethings. People, I think. They moved in an odd manner. To be frank, they frightened me. I don't know this area, so I came back here."

"Did they attack you?" asked the woman.

"No. They were across the stream. I saw them at the washed-out bridge."

The two guards exchanged a look.

"What?" I said, my skin prickling again. "Do you think they were waiting there? For travelers?" Now I wondered if Dar-Ma had seen the turnoff that I had missed, or if she had also found herself at the bridge. What if she and Blossom had encountered those strange figures while Toby and I were at the farrier?

"Unlikely," the man said. "Not enough folk take that road to make the wait worthwhile. Unless those packs are full of gold, or something."

"And they knew you were coming," the woman added.

"Just trade goods," I said.

"They could have been moving stolen cattle," the man said.

"I didn't see any cattle. I was using a Detect Life spell."

"Could have been scouting the bridge in advance of moving stolen cattle," the woman said to the man.

The man turned toward her, head tilted. "Could have been skooma smugglers."

"Or akkvit."

"Ah! Akkvit." He nodded in a knowing way.

"Please," I said, "I just need to rest until dawn, then I will continue my journey. I was delayed, you see, this morning my horse threw a shoe. I separated from my companion and came to the farrier here at the fort. Perhaps… Is there any accommodation?"

Their attention snapped back to me. "We don't allow civilians to stay at the fort overnight," the man said. "There's a camp over the hill in that direction. You'll be safe from the daedra, but if you cause any trouble you're in the hands of the camp's leadership. We patrol, but they police."

"I'm no troublemaker," I said, though it seemed certain that they cared less about anything than my intentions. Either I behaved, or I found a shallow grave and the camp gained a horse.

"Could be necromancers," the woman said to the man, turning back to their speculation. "Mages Guild has sent a bunch of those bone pirates into the hedges."

"Or… slavers!" he said. "House Dres renounced the slave trade, I've heard. With no slaves in the markets, the dark elves have to get them somewhere."

The thought of Dar-Ma encountering slavers made me feel sick. I swallowed the new lump in my throat. "Thank you. I'd better find that camp while there's still moonlight."

A well-beaten path brought us there. I cast a small mage light as Toby and I approached the camp's outer ring, more to show my unarmed state than to light our way. Close to forty tents and various soft-sided shelters stood haphazardly in a trampled meadow, lit by scattered watchfires. I halted outside the implied boundary. It wouldn't do to lead a horse thumping past a host of sleeping heads.

A sturdy Orsimer stood up beside one of the fires, sheathed sword in hand. At my wave she started toward me. I kept my hands in sight, hoping she would find no reason to draw steel. She wore a leather jerkin over a roughly made but clean tunic and trousers. Her hair was neatly twisted into perfect rows of little knots tied with red string. As she held her silence, it seemed up to me to speak.

"I'm a healer from Chorrol," I said, looking up at her. "I'm moving on in the morning. I just need to rest." Toby snorted hot breath against my cheek. I ran absent fingers over his nose in reply. "Oh, my name is Abiene."

"Water's in the creek. Picket line there. You can sleep by that fire, or I've a space in a tent for ten gold. No noise, no cooking. There'll be oats in the morning."

Though she surely meant an oat-based porridge would be served in the morning, an image of myself nosing into Toby's feed bag flashed through my mind. I wondered what she wasn't telling me. "How many are already in the tent?"

The Orsimer's upper lip curled off her tusks in what I took to be amusement. "Seven."

I glanced up to see a sky filled with moons and stars, nary a dark cloud in sight. "Thank you, but I'll take that spot by the fire. May I ask your name?"

"What if I said no?" She gave a snort. "Name's Mazoga."

At least I have amused her. "Well met, Mazoga. May we have a quiet night."

My muscles were tired and sore, but I needed to tend to Toby. A spell to fortify my strength eased the process of unpacking and minimized my noise, particularly the potential for grunting. I made a neat arrangement by the fire in the space Mazoga had indicated. Somehow I felt comfortable leaving the packs with her. She had the aggressive cockiness that I associated with ruffians, yet she held a position of responsibility in keeping night watch on the camp. I wondered who had styled her hair.

I checked Toby with a spell while he drank from the creek. As we approached the picket line a lad lifted his head from a pile of blankets that he shared with two sprawling hounds. The hounds remained still, but the lad pointed me to the line's near end. I gave Toby a rubdown while he ate the oats Bongond had packed for him.

My mount's needs taken care of for the night, I walked as short a distance as I deemed absolutely necessary to relieve myself, then washed my hands and face in the stream. I spared no time to retrieve supplies, but simply rubbed a finger over my teeth and resolved not to kiss anyone. The freezing water reminded me of the icepack in the mountains above Chorrol. No doubt my night's wash water had sparkled under the sun as snow earlier today.

Before I left the streamside I debated the early rising trick I had learned from Jerric. Whatever illness this water might bear, I could heal upon the onset of the first symptom. I filled my waterskin and drank deeply of the ice melt, hoping that the morning would not bring regret.

As I walked back to the campfires, I lifted my dear friend Dar-Ma and her beloved Blossom in my heart to the Divines. Though I had more faith in the work of my own hands than in the possible intervention from Aetherial realms, the repetition of familiar phrases soothed me. By the time I wrapped my cloak around me and cast the spell I simply called Sleep, my head was ready to meet the satchel I used for a pillow.

No sooner had I closed my eyes than it seemed they were opening again. Dawn was a pale promise at the horizon, and stars still winked from the center of the sky. The cold drink from the night before had done its work. I trotted over to empty my bladder and check on Toby, then sought out the only fire that had a pot over the coals.

The cook was a Khajiiti woman around my own age. The shawl tied around her shoulders showed skillful work made from poor yarn. Her hair was braided and tied in an intricate arrangement. Red string ran through the braids.

"Good morning," she said, a cautious smile angling her whiskers.

"Good morning." I retrieved the coin purse from my waistband. "I'm Abiene. May I purchase some breakfast?"

"Certainly." She stooped to pick up a wooden trencher from a stack near the fire. The scoop of gray porridge hit the plate with a splat then sat in a lump, barely spreading outward. "Five Septims. This one is called Ra'vindra."

"By Mara!" I said before I could stop myself. I was a poor steward of coins, but the price surprised even me.

Ra'vindra's smile broadened when I handed her the thin, thumbnail-sized coin. "Pleasure doing business," she said.

"We shall see." I returned her smile to sweeten the words. With no spoon offered I slid my belt knife from its sheath. Determined not to be the wilting flower that I must appear, I ate a bite neatly from the blade.

The oat porridge had a good texture and there were no off flavors. Unseasoned and unsweetened, it tasted as if it had come from the chapel's kitchen. I decided to start carrying my own little tin of salt.

"Mazoga said you're a healer," Ra'vindra said, her tone and expression as bland as the porridge.

"I am," I said between bites, "but my time is short. Does someone need healing?"

"No," she said. "Khajiit just makes conversation."

As I pictured the steps that would take Toby and me back to the Hackdirt trail, I remembered the oddly menacing figures from the night before. My stomach clenched, but I took another bite anyway.

"Say, Ra'vindra, I saw a strange thing in the woods last night. I wonder if you've heard of anything like it, or maybe seen something like it yourself?"

"Oh? What did Abiene see?"

As I described how the figures had appeared to leap and float, Ra'vindra's ears flattened back.

"Khajiit knows who that was. There is a dark elf who can brew a potion... Damn her eyes! Ra'vindra hoped she had left all that behind."

"What kind of potion? I know some alchemy, but I've never heard of an effect that can accomplish what I saw."

"This one has seen it. In Morrowind." Ra'vindra turned her head to the side and spat, fangs fully visible. "Have a care in your travels, healer Abiene. Many trails weave through these woods, and few Foresters patrol them. A lot of folk have been lost out there. The Legion blames daedra, but this one suspects bandits. Now Ra'vindra knows she is right."

While we talked and I ate, an Imperial woman of middle age emerged from one of the tents. She limped over and passed a small packet to Ra'vindra, then scooped some porridge into the bowl she had brought with her.

Ra'vindra sniffed the packet and nodded at the woman, her warm smile returning.

"Dried apples," said the woman.

"So this one smells," Ra'vindra replied. "Nanny, if you watch the pot while Khajiit is gone, half of the earnings will be yours. And when you see Mazoga, tell her to pack up. We are moving on as soon as this one returns."

"It was nice to meet you, Ra'vindra," I said holding my empty plate out to her.

"Likewise," Ra'vindra said. She pointed at a murky wash bucket and walked away.

I had paid five Septims for my lump of porridge, while Nanny gave only a handful of dried apples for a bowl full! Five Septims should have bought all of the porridge and the pot. I had a moment to satisfy my curiosity.

"How much will you charge for porridge?" I asked Nanny.

The Imperial's eyes went from my boots to my belt to the clasp on my cloak. "Five Septims," she said. "Want some more?"

.

This post has been edited by Grits: Oct 21 2025, 08:18 PM

[Acadian]

Looks like being a damsel in distress did not impress those Fort Carmala guards.

"Could be necromancers," the woman said to the man, turning back to their speculation. "Mages Guild has sent a of bunch of those bone pirates into the hedges."
- - Nice nod to the rule of unintended consequences. . . .

Mazoga! Made even better by the introduction of her friend, Ra'vindra. We only hear a smidge of her demise at the hands of Mogen and his gang later from Sir Mazoga.

Looks like porridge in this camp is priced by one’s outward appearance of the ability to pay. Despite the lighter coin purse, Abiene is now rested, has an empty bladder, full belly and some daylight to support continuing her journey.


Edit: Oh, safe travels and a speedy recovery!

This post has been edited by Acadian: Oct 22 2025, 12:03 PM

[treydog]

I want to quote the entire "Who's on First?" routine by the guards... so just take that as a given.... Could just feel Abiene resisting the urge to roll her eyes as she tries to decide what is worse - shadows in the darkness or Clueless Joe & Josephine of the Legion....

And an auspicious meeting with the future Sir Mazoga! Along with the closely calculated "the oatmeal costs what we think a person is able to pay."

Excellent as always.

[SubRosa]

While the gate guards do not seem to be too useful, at least they are not outright scoffing at Abiene either. Smugglers, rustlers, bone pirates (love that one btw.) are indeed sensible assumptions for someone who has not read HP Lovecraft.

I do wonder what Akkvit is though?

Mazoga! Abiene will be able to tell people that she knew her back before she was a famous knight.

I envy Abiene for her sleep spell.

Dawn was a pale promise at the horizon
This was a wonderful turn of phrase.

Meeting Ra'vindra however, is a morose gift, burdened with foreknowledge as we are of her fate.

[Burnt Sierra]

"Five Septims? Five? What is this world coming to? Back in my day, five Septims would have bought a full suit of armour, a bottle of Cyrodiilic Brandy - Vintage I might add, none of this new unaged rubbish - to go along with a hearty meal, a new pair of shoes AND a down payment on a house! But, what should I expect, this generation just doesn't realise how easy they have it. When I was younger we didn't ride about on horses, we had to walk everywhere, hot or cold, snowing or raining, but now they just get on a horse, pull up their hood - a HOOD I tell you, we didn't have the luxury of hoods - and..."

(TM - Every grumpy old person in Tamrielic history)

But this part jumped out at me:

As I described how the figures had appeared to leap and float, Ra'vindra's ears flattened back.

"Khajiit knows who that was. There is a dark elf who can brew a potion... Damn her eyes! Ra'vindra hoped she had left all that behind."

The Legion blames daedra, but this one suspects bandits. Now Ra'vindra knows she is right."

What kind of Bandit is capable of that? Seems like Abiene is getting herself mixed up with some very dangerous people indeed, and she still has to meetup with Dar-Ma - assuming she manages to get to Hackdirt, it seems like everything possible is going wrong and the Universe is screaming "don't go there!"

But, of course, it's great fun for us happy readers

[Grits]

Previously: Abiene and Toby spent the night safely at the civilian camp outside Fort Carmala, watched over by the orc Mazoga. In the morning Abiene bought porridge from Ra'vindra, who believed she knew who Abiene had seen at the washed-out bridge. They were a particular group of bandits that included an alchemist from Morrowind.

Acadian: A long time ago I thought I could work the entire Mages Guild questline into this story. I hoped you would be happy to see Mazoga before she became a knight! And of course her best friend Ra'vindra. I adore Buffy's Sir Mazoga and her consort Sir Agronak, Champions of Cyrodiil, so I had a smile on my face when she popped up at the camp. Thank you, Acadian!

treydog: Gate guards always strike me as funny for some reason. Probably because in the game they give the most random comments and rumors. Also they have a lot of empty hours to fill between bouts of guard action, so they surely must tell each other stories. Thank you, treydog!

SubRosa: Akkvit is Winterhold whiskey, illegal in Cyrodiil. It's made up for Jerric's world. Lildereth found broken bottles in Hrotanda Vale, leading her to believe that Valdi's mother and gang were Akkvit smugglers. I would also like to have a Sleep spell! I was glad to give Ra'vindra a life before Mazoga's knightly oath, but it was of course bittersweet. Maybe I'll get an idea for a Mazoga and Ra'vindra best pals story. Thank you, Rosa!

Burnt Sierra: I had some fun looking up magical effects from Morrowind. I don't know if it's possible to make a potion with both Jump and Slow Fall, but it seems like it should be! Abiene has had lots of adventure on this trip but little forward progress. Will she proceed cautiously or run twice as fast back into the woods? Thank you, Burnt!

Everyone: It took a little longer to bounce back than I thought, but here we are! Next week I plan to resume Tuesday posting. Ha! Let's see what happens.

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Chapter 21: Underneath, Part Ten

It took little time to get Toby tacked and packed, though I could have used some help balancing his load. What manner of giant-kin had decided to train this long-legged specimen to a pack saddle? We stepped out under a clear dawn, Toby's head up and ears forward, both of us eager for the road.

Today I did not let my Detect Life spell lapse, though I imagined that any predators we might meet would be of the four-legged variety. No doubt Ra'vindra's bandits were asleep in their lair, wherever that might be, and not inclined to look for travelers so early in the morning.

What had they been doing out in the woods last night? Surely they were as surprised to see me as I was to see them. If they dwelt nearby and had been returning with their spoils, they might not have been inclined to chase one person and a horse through the trees in the dark. Or perhaps they were traveling and had not heard that the bridge had been washed away. Given ten more minutes, Toby and I would have met them on their side of the creek.

I mentally shook myself. That had not happened, and today was a different day.

By mid-morning I spotted three blaze marks on a tree. I decided not to take Corporal Guntien's shortcut, but rather look for the trail that Dar-Ma and Blossom would have taken. At the worst I would miss the turnoff again and risk meeting Ra'vindra's bandits in daylight. At best I would find myself embracing Dar-Ma before nightfall having made my last mistake yesterday. She must be worried by now.

Once I saw the trail that Seed-Neeus described, I understood how I had missed it in the dark. I guided Toby off the road and across a meadow to reach it. Someone, certainly Dar-Ma, had broken a branch on either side and bent them to draw attention to the trail head.

Less than a half-day's ride from a Legion outpost I felt we had entered the wilderness. Trees formed a tunnel over our heads, casting us into cool twilight. The trail twisted and wound, preventing me from seeing very far ahead. As we dropped further in elevation I heard the creek. If I had followed Seed-Neeus's directions correctly, we were upstream from where the bridge had washed out. When we finally reached the place where the creek widened, Toby splashed across and back into the woods without so much as an ear flick.

I gave his shoulder a firm pat. "A lot of bother to get across this water, but we made it. Well done, Toby."

The trail followed the creek for a time. Here the undergrowth formed a wall on either side of us. Mist drifted in tendrils like the hair of a drowned crone. Whatever we might meet here we would have to confront on the trail or turn around and flee rather than slipping away into the woods. Had Dar-Ma been frightened yesterday when she came this way? I shivered even under my cloak.

Toby carried me along at an easy pace of his choosing. As we moved up out of the valley, the trail-side thickets gave way to sparse brush. Eventually we reached open woodland. Though we had left the creek behind, mist formed a ceiling as if we rode under a thin cloud. At ground level it was barely visible. The only sound that accompanied our travel was the muffled thud of Toby's hooves. I wondered what had become of yesterday's raucous birds.

The sharp tang of freshly split timber cut through the smells of leaf mold and damp wood. I slowed Toby to his brisk walk so that I might take in our surroundings. I was no forester, but even I knew these were pine trees. We began to pass stumps on the left side of the trail. Branch piles and sawdust told of a logging operation. Deep grooves had been pressed into the trail's surface. Rainwater still stood in some of them, while others had turned to mud. I realized they were drag marks from felled trees. Toby stepped carefully, his feet rarely splashing into the water-filled trenches.

Ahead I saw light between the trees, and soon we reached the clearing that produced it. We walked for nearly a minute before I halted Toby, my stomach in a knot. Foundations of stacked stone stood all around us, choked by vines, brush, and even small trees. Only fragments of blackened walls rose above them. We had reached Hackdirt, and now stood in the ruins of the town that had been destroyed thirty years ago by our own Imperial Legion. Toby blew and shifted his feet. My skin crawled even in the welcome sunshine.

As we moved further into the village the scent of fresh cut pine tickled my nose again. Several foundations had been cleared of their ruined walls. One housed a platform saw, and stacks of lumber lay nearby in various stages of finishing. However the saws were still and unattended. The town was utterly silent, as quiet as the lifeless woods.

In County Chorrol many communities laid their villages out in squares. Hackdirt had been built around a central circle. Twenty-odd structures stood in an outer ring with eleven fronting the village green. Laundry hung on a line outside one house, but nearly every one had dirt piled as high as my head where there should be kitchen gardens. I saw several plots of tilled earth, but no late winter crops or spring green poking up from the rows. If Marta or Ruby were inside one of these cottages, they made no move to attract my attention.

In the middle of the village stood a well, stone built and wider in diameter than most. A peaked roof sheltered it, but the structure held no pulley system.

I dismounted and led Toby onto the weedy village green. Though tempted to shout a halloo, the strangeness of the situation stopped me. Dar-Ma was here somewhere in this silent town. If no one came forward, I would simply have to start knocking on doors.

The first place to look was the inn where Dar-Ma and I had planned to spend last night. Moslin's Inn loomed above its humble neighbors, a three-story building with front-facing gables. Though it conformed to the region's sense of architecture, something about it gave me an uneasy feeling. Perhaps it was the absence of inviting touches. Where other inns such as the Wobbly Goblet near Weynon Village offered a covered entry, foundation plantings, window boxes, and a clear indication of where one's horse might be housed, this building stood stark on its stone ground level, staring into the town center with blind eyes.

With Toby secured to the hitching post, I looked around for a watering trough. Finding only a bucket, I carried it to the center of the circle to investigate the well. Its wooden cover was bolted and locked with a padlock. As I turned away the ground rumbled, almost below my ability to sense it. My feet wanted to run, but I took a slow turn around the well, hoping that Dar-Ma, Ruby, or Marta would see me.

Toby snorted and tossed his head as I walked back toward him. I gave him a pat on my way past to the back of the inn. There I found a privy and a water pump, ill-advisedly close to one another. The pump handle was stiff and slick with algae. Annoyed, I fortified my strength with a spell and forced it. Despite my misgivings, the water ran cold and clear.

I hadn't seen an obvious stable arrangement, and no one had come forward for my horse. Holding the bucket for Toby to drink, I decided to leave his packs in place and check inside. There was no sign of Blossom, which meant that Dar-Ma could be out somewhere. She may have left instructions for me regarding Toby's packs.

The hair on my arms rose up as I paused at the inn's uncovered stoop. The urge to whirl around and stare wildly in search of hidden observers nearly overwhelmed me, but I controlled myself and pushed open the door.

[ghastley]

I remember the Wobbly Goblet, from before it became the Lucky Mudcrab. Not many inns got that level of detail.

You captured the strange emptiness of the village nicely, and the odd nature of the well. And Dar-Ma is nowhere to be seen.

[SubRosa]

All of yesterday's trials and travails on the road becomes a simple trip this morning. What a difference a day can make.

The nearly tunnel like forest and layer of mist Abiene passed through on the way gives one a sensation of traveling from one world to another. Which is a classic of both horror and fantasy/adventure stories. Our protagonist goes from the ordinary boring world like Tattoine or the Shire, and travels to an exotic world of wonder and danger, like Mos Eisley or Mordor where the normal rules of quiet life no longer apply.

Nice call out to the Wobbly Goblet!

Hackdirt certainly appears to be less than inviting. Less than anything in fact. It looks like the town is deserted. I wonder where everyone could have gone to? *Looks down at the ominously rumbling earth below*...

[treydog]

Abiene has to be thinking - "I finally made it to Hackdirt! Yay? Is there an echo here?"

Wonderful descriptive writing which builds the creepiness factor, even without the zipping of string music or ominous organ chords...

And so many questions, such as "Who locks a well?" and "Why are there no crops?" and most of all "Where IS everyone - most especially Dar Ma?"

But Abiene is no wilting violet, even if perhaps sometimes she should be.

Most effectively spine-chilling.

[Acadian]

Great to have you back, and here’s hoping your recovery progresses smoothly!

*

Tacked, packed and under full detect life, Abiene and her long-legged companion set out.

Aside from nervousness about the road behind and ahead of her, the trip went smoothly. Spooky channeling by the misty forest around them notwithstanding.

You’re doing a wonderful job building mystery and suspense. And clues! A well with no pulley system that seems oversized and is padlocked. Large piles of dirt – suggestive of digging. Rumbling beneath. All hinting that what Abiene seeks may be underground.

Moslin’s Inn certainly appears much less inviting than mALX’s wonderfully Wobbly Goblet!